The weather outside was cold and dreary, but frankly, she wouldn't have it any other way. If the sun was happily smiling down on the one place that caused her so much pain, she would have felt betrayed by Earth itself.
It was July 26th, the third anniversary of the day that tore away her beloved. It was the day that had broken her heart, never to be repaired.
'I'm sorry love, but I have to go. They need me out there. The chances of us winning aren't nearly as good without me. I know their secrets. I love you. Take care of our baby!'
He was gone. She had held onto his hand as long as she could, eyes pleading with him to stay and full of tears. Painfully, their hands had separated. It felt like the world was going in slow motion as he looked into her eyes before departing. It was one look, but it said a thousand words. Her beloved ran off into the red sunrise, looking more brave and handsome than ever he had before, as a black raven flew overhead. He was accepting what Fate laid before him.
'No! Don't leave me!' she yelled after him. The sky glowing red seemed like a sign to her, a sign she didn't like.
"Come, Michael. We're going to visit Daddy today. Remember when we did last year? Wake up, baby," the mother said, gently shaking her son awake. Her words finally sunk in to the sleeping six year-old boy, and he sat up, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes with his small fists.
"We get to visit Daddy again?" he asked, obviously getting somewhat excited at the prospect.
"Yes, love. Now hurry and get ready," she replied.
It had finally ended. The world was once again at its best. After a large explosion, which literally shook the whole earth, the Dark Lord was gone, forever. No longer would he terrorize innocent people. No longer would people shake in fear at the mere mention of his name, even in broad daylight. Witches and wizards universally were now free once again. Freedom like this always came with a price, however. The price could only be paid by sacrifice; great sacrifice inspired by great love. In the end, sacrificial love was what kept the world together and running as smoothly as humanly possible.
"My love! Where are you, my love?" she called, knowing he would answer to this name, however silly it sounded. She was too worried to care. "Where are you? Come back to me! Please!" Her cries were in vain. The beautiful lady was still not reunited with her handsome prince. Isn't this the part of the story where he rescues her from misery? Isn't this where he sweeps her off her feet, shares a life-changing kiss with her, and they live happily ever after?
She was running through the stained battlefield, looking for him amongst the dead, alive, and wounded when she saw him. He was lying on his back, leg twisted underneath him in a way it shouldn't, evidently fairly painful, and blood pouring from somewhere inside his robes. He looked oddly angelic considering the circumstances, with face surrounded by a halo of gold and his pure white uniform stained scarlet.
"Are we there yet, Mum?" the little blonde asked impatiently. His feet were quite tired considering how far he had walked from the castle already.
"Not much further, baby," she said sympathetically. "Do you want me to carry you the rest of the way?" The boy nodded his head and spread his arms for his mother to pick him up. Michael was a rather small child. He was exactly like his father in this aspect, who, until third or fourth year of Hogwarts, was rather scrawny. Considering Michael's size, it was easy for his mother to pack him around everywhere. She picked him up and he wrapped his arms around her neck and legs around her waist, head resting in the crook of her neck.
As the caring mother walked towards her goal, her mind wandered back to bittersweet memories again.
She ran to him, falling on the ground next to her angel, her savior, holding onto the front of his robes as if her life depended on it.
"Oh, my love, are you okay? What happened? Please talk to me, love! Please!' she pleaded desperately. To her relief, the eyes of her angel fluttered open slightly, and he forced a weak smile. Tears were flooding down her face now, not once even pausing in their flow.
"Hey," he said, visibly straining to keep himself conscious.
"Hey," she replied, just as quietly, forcing what she hoped was a comforting smile. "What happened? Are you all right?" The lovely lady looked terribly worried.
"I got hit… by my own father… Got me with the ol' ripper curse." He said this as if it was nothing worse than the cheering charm. However, the beautiful woman knew of the curse's effects, and she didn't like them.
"Oh, God, someone help me."
"Hey, Mommy?" her thoughtful little boy asked, demanding attention once again from his mother, pulling her out of her daydreaming.
"Yes, baby?"
"Will I be a hero like Daddy some day?" a tiny voice asked, initiating horrible thoughts from his mother. 'Oh my word... If my baby dies... I could never handle that. The only thing that kept me going was Michael, the only child of my one and only love. The only living memory I have.'
Yet she would be encouraging to her son nonetheless. "Yes, Michael. I think you will be a hero someday, even if it's not the same kind as Daddy. I think almost everyone is a hero in their own special way, even when they don't do stuff that seems amazingly brave like Daddy. Like take the Minister of Magic for example. Most people don't label him as a hero, but he helps people all the time, doesn't he?" The boy seemed to ponder what his mother told him for a minute, before asking more questions.
"How are you a hero, Mum?" he asked. She took a moment to ponder this before she answered.
"I suppose in a couple ways. When I was still in school, I helped your godfather, Harry, in all sorts of adventures. And as soon as I was old enough, I joined the Order of the Phoenix, to help overcome Lord Voldemort. That took all sorts of bravery, you know? But I think that what made me most like a hero was when your father died. I loved your father very much, Michael. My life felt incomplete without him. He left me with you to take care of, and everything in our home. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Live without him, I mean." After she was done talking, the child sat there quietly, thinking about what she said.
"Mum," he said after a while. "How come it was so hard to live without Daddy?"
"Hm…. Well think of it this way, your father took care of me. When I was sad, he cheered me up. When I was having a problem, he always helped me, no matter how trivial or complicated it was. His impersonations made me laugh more than anything else in the world. He was like my other half in a way. I can't really explain what it's like until you're in the same position yourself. Let's see… if I were to die today, how do you think that would make you feel?"
He thought about it for a moment and said, "Really sad."
"Can you imagine moving somewhere else, and having someone else take care of you? Or having to take care of yourself a lot of the time?"
"Yeah…. I wouldn't like that very much. Mummy, please don't die."
"I won't, baby. I won't," she replied.
"No! No, baby. It's too late. Just stay with me, until… until…" he broke off, not wanting to finish his sentence.
"NO! No, love, you'll be all right. Everything's going to be okay. I'm going to go get some help and we'll get you healed up and everything will be fine again," she said. Not wanting to even think about him dying.
"No, baby, I'm afraid it can't be that way. Just stay here and talk to me, please," he begged.
His wife bit her lip and seemed to ponder her decision before replying, "Okay, okay I'll stay with you, if that's what you want." He smiled and offered his thanks quietly. "Whatever you want, love," she had replied, stroking his hair.
"Will you promise me one thing?" he asked, getting a tad bit more serious.
"Yes, anything, what is it?"
"Promise me… promise me that when I'm… gone… that you'll take care of our son. Take care of Michael, love."
"Okay. I'll take care of him always. I promise."
"I promised I'd always take care of you, son. And I will," his mother comforted, also remembering her promise to the boy's father.
"Thank you, Mum, for always taking care of me. And for cutting off the crust of my peanut butter and jelly, and reading me bed time stories. I love you," the little voice said. He had no idea how much it meant to his mother when he said that. She was so touched that he loved her that much; that everything she did for her son didn't go unappreciated, even though he was but only six years old.
"I love you too, Michael," she replied. "I love you too."
"What makes me a hero, Mum?" he asked after a moment or two of silence.
"You, my boy, are very brave. You know how? Well for one, you overcame your fear of the dark, didn't you? And when you found that boggart, you handled it splendidly. You knew exactly what it was and came to get me straight away. That was very brave. And you know what else? You keep your dear old mother sane. Merlin knows how hard a task that is. You are quite the little hero. My little hero."
"Thank you," he said, now breathing hard. "Thank you for― for everything. You made everything in my life… everything in my life worth it. I wouldn't change any of it, just so I could… so I could be with you. I'm sorry I have to… have to leave so soon. I wish I could stay… stay longer… and watch our son grow up…."
"You sure are lucky, Mum, to have so many heroes," Michael speculated.
Hermione smiled and said, "Too right you are. Look, love. We're here." She set the boy down and he turned around to see a grand memorial. There was a wall with a fair few amount of names on it. It had the names of people who died in the final battle; people who sacrificed their lives. They gave the greatest sacrifice of all.
There were flowers by many of the names. But what made the memorial so grand was the statue. It was a purely golden statue of a Phoenix taking flight. It had to be at least ten feet tall with a twenty foot wingspan. The mere sight of it was mesmerizing. The detail was extremely intricate, right down to the last feather. But the best part about the Phoenix was the hope it gave. It gave hope to people in even the direst of circumstances. The Phoenix was like a golden light, shining to a people in a world full of darkness. When Hermione looked at it, it gave her hope that one day she might see her love again, and that maybe, just maybe, he didn't die in vain.
"My will… it's in the binding of your favorite book, the book that brought us together. Remember that?" His eyes dazed off at the memory. He had a reminiscent smile on his face before zoning in again and remembering his task. "I left everything to you. It's all yours, love; the manor, the money, everything. When Michael is old enough, you can give it to him and he'll take care of you. There's enough money that neither of you will have to work until he graduates from Hogwarts."
"Okay. Okay, I can take care of everything."
"A lot of the money is invested in various places. My will should tell you where you can find everything you need. And my lawyer…his name is Jeremy Nemier. You can trust him. He'll help you take care of everything." Hermione took in everything he said, as if she were lost in a desert and his words were sweet and pure water.
"All right, my love. I can handle it. I promise to take care of Michael. Always," she said, offering as much comfort to her dying husband as she could manage.
"I'm sorry I can't help you raise, Michael," he said, hurt showing in his eyes at the very thought. "Will you… will you tell him… tell him something for me?"
"Yes, what do you want me to tell him?"
"Tell him… tell him that I love him so much… And tell him that one day, we'll see each other again…. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes. I'll tell him."
"Thank you," he said, "for everything. You made… everything in my life worth it… I wouldn't… change any of it… just so I could be with you…. I'm so sorry I have to leave so soon. But I want you to know… I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much, my 'Mione. Words cannot even… cannot even express the depth of my love for you. I'll love you forever. Don't ever forget. Will you… will you kiss me… one last time? For memory's sake." She could do naught but grant his wish. She leaned down and locked lips with her love for one last time. The kiss was very gentle, sweet, and passionate. It was as if they were both trying to pour all their love for each other out into this one last kiss.
Hermione walked over to the top of the hill, the spot where she last saw him. She laid down exactly where she had before, almost exactly three years ago, and began to sob. Hermione missed her husband. She needed him. She needed him more than cake needs icing, more than soup needs crackers, more than flowers need rain and sunlight. Her life was miserable without him. It was true that the only thing that made her wake up in the morning was Michael, and her promise to take care of him. Yet she did not go a day without thinking about her dead husband. She did not go a lonely night without shedding a few tears for him.
All of a sudden she felt a small hand on her back. Michael had come to comfort her. This made her cry even more. Oh how she loved her son.
"Mum, are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm fine, Hun'," she said, sitting up and setting him in her lap, hugging him.
"You miss him, don't you?" he inquired.
"Yes, I miss him lots."
"Me too," Michael said. There was a pause before either one spoke again.
"Michael, before he left, he told me to tell you something very important. Do you think you're ready to know what it is now?"
Naturally, an inquisitive six year old mind would never pass up the opportunity to gain new knowledge, especially if it were about his father, whom he barely remembers. "Yes, I think I'm ready."
"Your father told me to tell you that he loves you, Michael, very much so. I'm sure he would do anything for you. No, I know he'd do anything for you. In fact, he even sacrificed himself so you could be safe and live a normal life. If that's not what love is, I don't know what is."
"I wish I could meet him," he said. "He sounds like a really good guy, huh?"
"He was."
"I… I always knew you were… a damn good… kisser," he said, trying to be amusing.
"Never as good as you," she replied with a slight smile on her face. "You got hit with ol' ripper and you still kiss amazing." He tried to smile in thanks but it didn't last long as extreme pain shot through his body. His breathing became more shallow and laborious. "Listen, I have to tell you something. I love you so much, my love. I shall miss you terribly after you leave. Please, don't forget me when you're gone."
"I'll never forget you," he whispered. "Take care of Michael for me. Tell my mother that I love her. And tell Harry… tell him that I said congratulations and good luck with Ginny." Hermione nodded in reply. "We'll meet again, love. You, Michael, and I will be reunited soon. I promise. I love you, Hermione Malfoy..." He said these last words, squeezed her hand one last time, and closed his eyes.
"No! Come back to me, my love! Please come back! I need you! Come back! Come back!" She yelled in vain, now sobbing into his still chest. "Please come back, Draco. I love you."