OneShot.

Itallics=Memory.

Bold=Song Lyrics.

Thinking Of You

Helping a girl through King Cross station, having to swerve her through rows and rows of people and their belongings, a redheaded man frowned unpleasantly; a muttered, "damn bloody Muggles. They're everywhere, aren't they?"

It was September first—and for those who had the ability to produce magic—that meant a race to one place in particular. It was where the elder accompanied those of age to Platform nine and three-quarters; where the Hogwarts Express steamed in its tracks behind the magical barrier that separated two different worlds, waiting to take them all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Hurry, daddy!" The girl exclaimed desperately at her father, trying to speed him through the crowds faster. "Al's going to be so upset with me," she added as she could already see her cousin with his dark-hair even more untamed and anxious green eyes in her mind.

The man snorted, still upset about the clear ruckus of people left and right. "Calm down, Rose," he told her in passing, his head turning to look behind his shoulder. "Hermione, any luck with Hugo yet?"

Behind the hectic redheaded man and his daughter, a brunette with soft curls bouncing around her shoulders and soft golden-brown eyes nodded at the man, at her husband Ron Weasley. "He's alright," she responded, those warm eyes of her casting down to peer at her eight year-old son that was holding onto her hand. "Isn't that right, darling?" She added, smiling at him reassuringly.

Frowning at his mother, Hugo Weasley did not approve of his mother's lighthearted comment. He was upset—in the midst of throwing a tantrum, actually. It was no fair, according to him, that Rose was going to Hogwarts before him. Sure, she was the eldest and all, but where did that leave him? Alone until Christmas rolled around and he got to hear his sister go on and on about how much fun she was having, that's where.

And with his brown eyes scowling in irritation, Hugo watched as his father steered his sister in between platforms nine and ten. "Break into a run, Rosie," he said to her knowingly, squeezing her shoulder as he took a step back. "Go!"

In went Rose Weasley through the brick barrier between two worlds; trolley and all.

Scowling even more, Hugo muttered a selfish, "she should have crashed," and let his mother drag him towards the barrier with that small smile still on her face.

"There they are, mum!" And as Ron, Hermione and their son passed into the platform, Rose jumped on her feet; pointing a finger towards a small family huddled a few feet from them.

Squinting his eyes a little to see through the fog, Ron began chuckling. "Ginny looks irritated," he commented, "I wonder what Harry did now."

Looking at each other for a moment, the redheaded siblings rolled their eyes. "James," they said at once together, both knowing too well that the look on their Aunt Ginny's face could only be caused by her eldest child.

"Oi!" And from the short distance, Albus Severus Potter caught sight of his relatives. "There you are! I thought Uncle Ron locked you away, Rose. I was freaking out," he told her, relief crossing his emerald eyes.

As she pushed her trolley towards the Potter family, Rose leered playfully at her father. "Yeah, you know he tried."

"With Hugo's help!" Ron added defensively, frowning at the annoyed expressions being tossed at him. "He didn't want her to go as much as I did!"

Shaking her head, Hermione Weasley looked over to a dark-haired man. "Sorry we're late, Harry," she said apologetically to her best friend. "There was a bit of a problem before leaving home."

"Don't worry, 'Mione," Harry Potter assured, "we ran into a problem ourselves. James almost caused a car-crash on our way here and Ginny was on the verge of killing him."

Attached to Harry's arm, a little redheaded girl that looked like a ghost from the past—except for the eyes, of course—said, "so it was the usual, you know."

Making the adults laugh, Ron especially loud at his sister's even more annoyed look, Hermione rolled her eyes and turned from them. A tiny smile wanted to tug onto the corner of her lips as she saw the excited faces of the new students, the smug and all-knowing ones of the older ones, and the nostalgic looks of the parents. (Some, of course, with twinkles of excitement in their eyes at the thought of a year without their children.)

And as she looked at the crowd of people, Hermione spotted a little girl making her way to the entrance of the train. She had white-blonde hair that flowed around her back, that glowed like a white light from the rays of sun that touched her head. And suddenly, there was a pang of searing hurt soaring through her chest; memories flooding it.

She was thinking of him.

Comparisons are easily done

Once you've had a taste of perfection

Like an apple hanging from a tree

I picked the ripest one, I still got the seed

"There you are."

With the sun beaming through the blue skies, making its rays peek out through puffy clouds to wave hello with sensations of blissful warmth, a tall boy with a pale, pointed face approached a girl who was sitting on a secluded hill on the grounds of Hogwarts.

"I've been looking for you," he spoke again, launching himself forward and knocking the girl down on her back as she hadn't turned. "You should've told me you were here," he adjusted himself on top of her, smirking as his eyes dug their way into hers.

For a silent second, as she watched a little mesmerized at the way he glowed, at the way her heart automatically went into overload when he was near, and the way that tingles ran through her body when his touched hers, the girl smiled gently. "I was just thinking," she murmured.

"You do enough of that, Granger," with a teasingly annoyed tone, Draco Malfoy poked the girl's stomach. "At the rate you overwork your poor brain, I won't be surprised if it malfunctions on you."

The girl rolled her brown eyes. "Yeah, like that'll happen," she huffed at him, but her gaze hardened. "Are you here to tease me, Malfoy? Because if you are, you can walk yourself back from wherever it is that you came from."

"Of course I'm not," the boy frowned, but quickly wiped it away. "I just simply heard from that old hag McGonagall that her favorite Fifth Year witch had a free period—"

"Well, I am the Brightest Witch of the Age,"

"—and I thought to myself, what kind of Slytherin would I be if I allowed the Gryffindor Princess to enjoy that free period?" Draco finished, ignoring the girl's smug interruption.

Hermione snorted, but said, "not a very good one, I assume?"

"Exactly," Malfoy nodded, his fingertips rushing to trace smooth lines on her right cheek.

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't stop herself from leaning into his touch; from letting that overwhelming sensation that his skin gave to hers to penetrate her pores. "So, that's the story for today, is it?" She mumbled softly, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the rays of the sun and his fingertips on her face.

"I found you in the library, annoyed you until you left for the grounds, and then hexed me when I decided to follow you," Draco said automatically.

The brunette smirked, opening her eyes with feigned gratitude. "My turn to be the one who hexes, I see."

"Only the best for you, Granger," was all the Slytherin replied in a faded whisper before leaning down and capturing her lips into a loving kiss.

Snaking one of her hands into his hair while the other gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down to her, pulling him close so she could feel him tightly against her, she let herself be lost in that fumble of lips and tongues. The moments weren't always as long as they wanted—because no one was allowed to know that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger met on the lonely grounds of Hogwarts to express their love—but they made them count.

They melted into one another time and time again, ignoring the fact that it wasn't right, but as long as the warm and pure feeling was there, nothing mattered.

You said move on, where do I go?

I guess second best is all I will know

Watching the figure of a pacing blonde, Hermione crossed her arms in irritation; losing her patience. "Malfoy," she called in a hiss to her boyfriend, "what is it? You've been going at it none stop, what's the matter?"

Pacing once, pacing twice, pacing thrice, Draco Malfoy finally turned to the girl; his own face twisted of that of anger. "I saw you, Granger," he snapped at her, his fists clenching.

"You saw me?" Hermione asked, raising a brow and looking at him like he'd lost his galleons. "And what, may I ask, does that mean?"

With a rage that was definitely about to consume him all, he could feel, Malfoy took a single, furious step towards the brunette. His silver eyes went directly into her brown ones like daggers drenched in poison. "I saw you shedding tears for that filthy Blood-Traitor weasel," he spat. "I saw you crying your eyes out because he now happens to have an interest in that Brown girl. Everyone in Slytherin's talking about how the Mudblood is entirely heartbroken because the Weasel ditched her—that's what I mean!"

At first reaction, Hermione felt herself wanting to spit and throw him many crude gestures and remarks, but instead she settled on rolling her eyes. "I wasn't crying for Ronald, Malfoy," she huffed at him, clearly annoyed. "Honestly, is that what's going around in the castle? That I fancy my best friend?" She snorted and laughed in puffs. "I thought you at least were smarter than to believe—"

"Don't laugh at me, Granger!" Draco snarled as he took the last remaining steps towards her. "What is it, then? What's the reason that you've been crying your eyes out since Sixth Year started!"

Jumping off the desk that she was sitting on inside the empty Potions classroom, Hermione met his fury with hers. "You!" She swatted him on the chest. "You're the reason! You've been acting completely off since term started, Malfoy! I don't know what's wrong with you, but it's driving me mad!"

At her sudden, uncontrolled shouts that were making her face burn red, Draco's expression of anger phased into something else that was no longer ignited by fire. She couldn't tell exactly what it was as she eyed him carefully because he was working his expression to mask that falter.

"...It's complicated," he muttered to her now, fists still clenching. But as soon as he was going to continue that, he paused for a moment, driving himself into a silence as his eyes ranged from various emotions. And once he let her see a flicker of misery, he composed himself and said, "...I've been thinking about us lately, Granger, and I...I think that maybe it's best—"

"No!" She snapped at him, interjecting before he could finish. "No, Malfoy. You are not doing this to me." She knew exactly where this was going and she was not about to accept it. She was not going to let him do this to her, not after an entire year of being together in the shadows.

Again, a look of complete misery flickered in his silver eyes. This time, however, instead of pushing it away on the spot, he let it linger for a few seconds. There was something inside of him, something breaking, but he had to let it go. "I'm no good for you," he whispered to her, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of this. "You need to get away from me, Granger. It's for the best and...and..."

"I don't care," she retorted back at him as she took advantage of his pause. "I don't need perfection, Malfoy, I just need you."

He took a step back from her—he wanted to believe her, he wanted to crumble on the floor and let her words soothe him, but he couldn't. "Bloody hell, Granger!" He pulled his infuriated card out to deal. "I'm—no—good—for—you!" And as he shouted every word with hopes for her to understand it entirely, he pulled the sleeve of his right arm back to expose his flesh.

And there, tainting the once smooth, pale, and firm skin of his arm was a horrible sign that sent automatic shivers down her spine.

"It's over now," he said darkly, his Death Eater mark radiating out silent and invisible signals. "There's no more you and I, Granger."

Cause when I'm with him I'm thinking of you

Thinking of you, what you would do

If you were the one who was spending the night

Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes

The moon was poking out from a cover of midnight-blue, pouring white light into a giant window of the Hospital Wing. And there, on a chair that somehow became a part of her as she lost count of how many hours she'd been sitting on it, Hermione blinked away from the moon and the stars as something stirred on the bed she sat beside.

She sighed a little, wondering how on earth could this have happened. There he was, her best friend, on his recovering bed as he was poisoned by something that he drank. And though she was worried, she knew that the only reason why she was there, keeping watch was because of Harry's idiotic comment about Lavender Brown sneaking her way in here to steal Ron at night to cure him on her own.

"Her...mione..." There he went again, Ron, stirring in his sleep and mumbling her name like he'd been doing for the previous hour. "Her...mione..."

She frowned instantly as her name kept slipping from his lips. There had been a point, maybe back some two years where she knew she would have been smiling like a fool of what this meant, but nowadays that wasn't the case. She was smart enough to know that he liked her just as much as she had fancied him, but things were different.

And with the way he murmured her name, sounding so apologetic, she knew that she had given both Ron and Harry the impression that his relationship with Lavender was a torture to her; a torture that he needed to be sorry for. But, honestly, Ron's relationship was the last thing on her mind—she was in love, but not with him.

However, as she stared at Ron Weasley, his red hair murky and his forehead sweaty, his lips passing her name in unconsciousness, Hermione knew that she was looking at the rest of her life and that broke her heart. It was like recent events were all connected to lead her back to him, back to the road that she had cheated when she took the wrong direction to a pool of silver.

"Madam Pomfrey—"

You're like an Indian summer in the middle of winter

Like a hard candy with a surprise center

How do I get better once I've had the best?

You said there's tons of fish in the water, so the waters I will test

Sitting rigid on that chair inside the Hospital Wing, Hermione's heart fluttered from its broken pieces when a smooth voice of her dreams and nightmares crawled into the room.

Taking a breath that didn't want to circle down to her lungs, she pulled on her Gryffindor courage to say, "She's not here," to the student standing feet away. "Peeves finally injured Filch and she's tending to him at his headquarters."

Back tensed, looking exactly like she was, like he couldn't breathe, Draco Malfoy composed himself into a blank state. "Oh," was all he mumbled, giving her a nod after clearing his throat.

"Was there anything you needed?" Hermione asked desperately as she tried keeping him settled on that floor for a few more seconds. It had been months since she last had him in her presence, one that didn't include lessons where he intended to blend with the walls and ignored her completely.

Malfoy shook his head, about to turn on his heels when, "Her...mione..." was whimpered from the redhead on the hospital bed.

"...Guess it's not just rumors," Draco said to Hermione, his eyes narrowed at his redheaded enemy stir and stir.

"He's just mumbling," Hermione told him at once. "There's no truth to any of those rumors, alright, Malfoy?"

Malfoy inhaled and blinked those silver eyes towards the witch, a resignation in his eyes. "It's not easy for me to say this, Granger," his voice was low and strained, "but stay close to him."

"How can you say that?" Sending her chair flying back, ignoring Ron's stirring and his mumblings, Hermione looked in between rage and the point of a meltdown. "How can you even insinuate for a second that Ron—"

"You'll move on from me, Granger," the Slytherin interrupted her, his tone now gentle and his eyes equally the same. And even through what he was telling her, there was a giant pool of heartbreak and intense misery swimming in the silver of his eyes. "It's for the best, anyway. There's nothing I can give you," he gripped his right arm automatically, "...not anymore."

At his whispers, her tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I'm in love with you, Malfoy. Not him. Never him." More tears, more tears, more tears. "I need you.."

"...I'll always need you, Granger," he allowed himself to say, knowing that he meant every word. "I'll need you now and forever, but—"

"There isn't any buts, Malfoy," she snapped at him. "It's me and you. What else could possibly matter?"

Blood, the Dark Lord, Death Eaters, his parents, her friends, his mission, her safety, their deaths—the list could go on forever, he knew, but she would be too stubborn to accept them. She would let her brain get in the way, come up with impossible, heroic solutions to all of them and he couldn't waste time listening to them.

"...Stay close to him, Granger," he repeated once more, eyes glancing at his nemesis laying in his hospital bed. "It kills me, Hermione," he blinked back at her, silver now glistening, "but he'll give you everything that I cannot... But before I let him take you...you need to promise me something."

More and more pieces of her heart exploded into darkness. "...What?" she breathed, never-ending misery engulfing her bones now.

And before he left, before he turned on his heels, no longer withstanding those brown eyes spill tears, Draco left her alone with Ron Weasley after saying, "survive."

She dropped onto her chair, a giant mess of tears and ripples of the pain her heart and soul were giving. He really did want her to move on, to be with Ron, to stay with him forever, and to let him go in the path he'd chosen for himself.

"Her...mione..."

She reached for one of Ron's palms, clutching it as she suffered for the Slytherin Prince.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth,

He pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself

"We've finally made it, haven't we?" With his eyes gazing happily into a pair of brown ones, Ron leaned against a corridor wall outside the destroyed Great Hall; smiling at the brunette in front of him. "Nothing will ever harm us now."

Though the concept of peace seemed so unbelievable, so out of reach and impossible, Hermione nodded with as much reassurance as she could muster. The war had scarred them forever, in so many ways that were impossible to forget, impossible to erase, but she wanted to believe. She wanted to assure him, assure herself that peace could be achievable now that nothing stood in their way and the Golden Trio wasn't needed to save the world anymore.

"We made it," she said to him.

Reaching for her, Ron took her hands into his; squeezing them. "We'll get our lives back on track now, Hermione," he stared at her, attempting to reassure and replenish the strength they'd lost along the way. "I won't ever let anything hurt you now. Not ever again, alright? I...I promised myself that when that demented bint..."

He trailed off, not bearing to say it, but she understood. "I'm fine now, Ron," she squeezed his hands back. "Bellatrix Lestrange is dead, she can't hurt me. Voldermort is gone, we're safe."

"...I need you with me, 'Mione," Ron whispered to her, reeling her into him. "And now..we can really be together." As he said this, as he wanted her to feel like now the rest of their lives were in the clear, he leaned towards her and took her lips to kiss them urgently.

She wanted to pull away, she wanted to tell him that they couldn't be together, she wanted to tell him her heart was somewhere else, but she stood there; kissing him back. She moved her lips barely, letting him guide her as she kept her eyes half open. And through the small gap her eyelids left open, she saw him.

He was standing there, a mere useless inches away, just staring back at her. His parents were behind him, both looking defeated and exhausted, but in a strange relief for the termination of their imprisonment. They were free now.

He noticed her looking at him and he twisted his face into the way she loved it—into a radiant smile that didn't match the aching of his eyes for watching her kiss someone else. He smiled, Draco Malfoy smiled the only way he did for Hermione Granger, in that way that showed that he loved her, that she was everything to him, that she was the reason for his shreds of happiness—but he'd lost her now.

Pulling away, Hermione's vision was blocked with a different smile. "We should get to the others now," Ron told her. "I expect they'll need us to recount events, you know. Give them names and all that rubbish. Malfoy's top name in my—"

"It's not his fault," Hermione snapped, pulling away from the redhead's hold. "I know you blame him because Bellatrix tortured me, Ron, but it's not his fault."

Ron frowned. "But he watched, Hermione. He watched when—"

"He had no other option," she told him sternly, despite the wince and the heartbreak she felt inside when she remembered his tortured gaze, his hysterical eyes filled with devastated tears, and his mouth letting out silent, murderous cries. "Besides, he didn't give us away when he could've, remember? That's a good sign, isn't it? He was just a misguided boy, Ron."

Ron grunted, rolling his eyes at her and her need to believe the best in people. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it? We're never going to see that git again." He pulled her away, leading her back towards the others and away from Draco Malfoy and their love.

You're the best, and yes, I do regret how I could let myself let you go

Now the lesson's learned

I touched it, I was burned, I think you should know

'Cause when I'm with him I'm thinking of you

Thinking of you, what you would do

If you were the one who was spending the night

Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes

Guests were whispering, muttering endless, "she looks beautiful," and "so wonderful," and "this was always meant to be," as she kept her eyes firmly on the Minister before her.

"Look at my Ronald's face," and then there went Mrs. Weasley, no doubt a teary gaze on her face. "He looks so dashing! This is the happiest moment of his life!"

One, two, breathe, breathe, Hermione was trying to focus on the Minister but the voices made it impossible.

"Well, he looked just as happy when he was snogging Lavender Brown his Sixth Year. You should've seen him, so disgusting, he was," George snickered somewhere in the background. And not a moment after, a SMACK was heard that no doubt was given by Molly Weasley.

One, two, breathe, breathe, Hermione repeated in her head.

"—Ronald Bilius Weasley, are you willing to join your soul, to bond your life with Hermione Granger for as long as you shall live?" Kingsley directed his words filled with law to the redheaded man before him.

Giving her fingers a gentle press, Hermione could feel Ron nod. "Yes," he said loud and clear, "I do."

Mrs. Weasley's tears rung throughout the rows of guests.

"I knew he would!" From the background as well, somewhere on Harry's lap, little Teddy Lupin cheered loudly.

She loved that boy to death, she wanted to turn and smile at him and at the adorableness that he was, but she couldn't. She was determined to keep her eyes focused on Kingsley, to remind herself why she was there, and that she was not allowed to run.

"Hermione Jean Granger," but now her time was up, "are you willing to join your soul, to bond your life with Ron Weasley for as long as you shall live?"

One, two, breathe, breathe, and a flash of a memory that made her organs twist with extreme ache. She breathed once more, trying her hardest not to throw up. "Yes," she found her courage, "I do," she said the expected answer.

With his hands raised in the air, the Minister said, "I declare you bonded forever!" A spell was cast over Ron and Hermione's heads; a golden light taking over them. "You may kiss your bride."

Grabbing Hermione by the chin, Ron threw her a very happy smile as he pulled her into a tender kiss. "Wife," he whispered over her lips before turning her towards the crowd.

And at the instant that her masked eyes found the guests—all the Weasleys, her parents, and friends—they all dissolved into a blur of cheers and claps.

"It's your turn next, mate!" Ron shouted happily at Harry as he beamed up at his best friends; Ginny and Teddy right beside him.

"Zey 'ill be 'appy like we are, Bill," Hermione heard Fleur, her now relative, tell her husband with cheerfulness. "Zen our leetle baby 'ill 'ave a couzin!" The beautiful veela said, rubbing her pregnant stomach.

She was being tossed around now. She could feel herself being moved from person to person, enduring hug after hug after congratulation after congratulation. She felt ill and horrible—like she was about to combust in their arms, in all their embraces. But as she was handed to someone else, not aware of who had and was now holding onto her, she immediately felt a tingle run about her spine as the smell of cold mint reached her nose.

"...He's a total idiot, but he'll always be better for you," there was a whisper in her ear and Hermione looked up with a pounding heart. Grey eyes, silver like the moon on a beautiful night penetrated her, staring so adoringly as hands fingered her wedding dress. "You look beautiful, love."

She wanted to die, she wanted to die. Her chest exploded into something powerful, her heart thumping with an emotion that was too powerful to be explained or contained. "Draco—" But before she could say anything else, soft lips pressed onto her forehead and she was ripped away from the memories of silver.

Now in the arms of Percy Weasley, she was wrapped with, "Welcome to the family, Hermione!"

Oh, won't you walk through and bust in the door and take me away?

Oh, no more mistakes, 'cause in your eyes I'd like to stay

"—Oi! Look who it is." Pulled away from a series of memories of her past by her redheaded husband—for seventeen years now—she was nudged and gestured forward.

And with a clear distaste and glare on his face, Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What are you on about—" She stopped herself as she saw what he was frowning at.

It was him, it was him, it was him. Just a few meaningless feet away—it was him.

"Draco Malfoy," Harry mused aloud from his place next to his two best friends. "Well, it's certainly been a while since I've seen him."

Ron snorted, rolling his eyes. "Looks a bit like his daddy, doesn't he? That slimy git."

Instantly upset, Hermione glared at the redheaded man. "Nothing like him looks like his father, Ronald," she snapped as she tried to contain her anger, hurt, and rush of happiness. "He looks like Draco Malfoy, if you ask me."

Again, Ron snorted.

"Who is he, mummy?" Rose asked with curiosity at all the attention the blonde man was getting. "Is he an old friend?"

"Erm...Sure," Harry replied to his niece as her mother was deadly silent, "you can say that."

Gesturing forward once more, Ron said, "so that must be little Scorpius, eh?"

All at once, the Weasley and Potter family looked at the little boy who was now walking towards their old classmate; the boy an exact replica to the young, annoyingly smug Draco Malfoy they remembered from their years at Hogwarts. The boy arrived towards his father and immediately clutched onto the man's arm, laughing with glee as a woman shook his head at the boy; smiling too.

They looked like the picture-perfect pureblooded family, Hermione wanted to hurl at the sight.

And at that moment she was filled with disgust and anger, it was wiped away from her chest as the blonde wizard ahead turned. And for the first time in almost two decades, silver found brown.

All at once, so many emotions soared through her; all of them cutting her scars open that smelled like him.

It was over, wasn't it? But how did she explain that to her heart, to those scars that always wanted to reopen and flood her with memories that she tried to suppress? How is it that after years, after her marriage with Ron, her two children, her time spent as a Weasley, and Malfoy's own family and past that she did not forget him? How was it possible that she was completely in love with him?

Into that stare they were sharing, she put it all there. Every feeling, good and bad, and she hoped that he would see it. She hoped that still remembered, that he still knew how to read her.

From the distance, those grey eyes softened and gleamed with something. He nodded a courteous nod at her direction—he remembered, he felt the same.

"Don't go about being friends with the Malfoy boy, Rosie—" Ripped away from those eyes that reflected her emotions, Hermione saw Ron warning their daughter. "Make sure you beat him at every test, alright. Thank God you inherited your mother's brain."

"But, dad—"

"I'm serious, Rosie. Granddad Arthur will never forgive you if you befriend a Pureblood," Ron added with a laugh.

Trying to mask herself, Hermione laughed too. "Stop it, Ron. She's allowed to be friends with whoever she wishes."

"You say that now," Ron told her as he laced his fingers through hers, pulling her away like he did many years ago from Draco Malfoy, "but you wouldn't want Malfoy and his wife over for tea if Rose does befriend their son."

And as they watched Rose go, watched her head towards the train, something inside Hermione dropped that was mixed with the nostalgia of her daughter departing. "I suppose you're right," she mumbled, not bearing the idea.

"Of course I am," Ron laughed, bending down and kissing her hair. "Now, Hugo," he turned to his son, "let's take you to Diagon Ally, yeah? Mum and I will buy you a new book to cheer you up."

"I thought Uncle Harry was going too?"

"They'll meet us there," Ron said, "they're getting Lily a new broom to cheer her up too. My, you two sure turned out to be spoiled brats, you know?"

Hugo scowled, looking offended, but his father just pointed a finger to the barrier that would make them go back to the Muggle world.

Looking over her shoulder for one final look, Hermione could see Rose and Al from the distance, Scorpius Malfoy right behind him. She watched as Rose took an accidental step back, stumbling almost but the Malfoy boy caught her; steadying her. Something was said among them that made the blonde boy smile and Rose to blush.

Her eyes moved away from them and back to where the boy's parents were still standing. He was watching the same thing as Hermione had been, and sensing her gaze like a magnet trying to reel him in, he turned once more and smiled. Oh, that same old smile that was hers and his, forever and always.

"Come, 'Mione," tugging her hand, Hermione was met with Ron's loving smile.

And in through the barrier they went, leaving Draco Malfoy behind with the memories and thoughts of Hermione Granger's greatest love; and the reminder that she would always think of him for as long as she shall live.