The cold of the night settled in and Hermione tightened the scarf around her neck. It had been many years since she had visited this place, many years since she had thought of him.
Rabastan Lestrange. He was a Death Eater, a Pureblood, a murderer, and her first love. They had met during one of her assignments in the war and had carried on seeing each other once it was over. The last time they had seen each other before the final battle an understanding had passed between them; they would fight against each other in battle if they had to, and they would carry in if one of them lost.
It ended with his imprisonment, and then his release once he had testified under veritaserum that he had been placed under the imperious curse. By then it was too late for them. Hermione had moved on and was married with kids, and seemed happy with her life. Rabastan could not, and would not ruin it for her.
When the Daily Prophet had reported his death, Hermione had burst into tears and spent the day crying in bed over her lost love.
"Is everything okay Hermione?" Ron asked when he got home.
"I'm fine, Ron." She lied.
She didn't go to the funeral; not many people did. It would have been speculated for weeks, months, even years as to why the poster girl for the light, a married witch, would attend the funeral of an ex-Death Eater she never knew. If she had then she would have had to tell Ron the truth. She would have had to confess that her son, the one he helped raised, was a Death Eater's. She would have been banished from the family and she could not bear the thought of it.
She had, however, slipped out to visit his grave shortly after. A dark stone marked where his head lay and read,
Rabastan Lestrange 23rd June 1955-19th November 2005
Your home is where your heart is
That was all that was left of her love. Hermione knelt next to the plot and whispered how sorry she was, how she should have waited for him, and how she should have told him he had a son.
As she got up she said, "I gave you my heart, and I never got it back. It was yours then, and it will be yours forever. I love you, remember that."
She dried her tears and walked away, vowing not to dwell on the life she could have had. Now though, Ron had also left her, and she was free to tell the truth. And she did. First she told her son, and then the rest of her family. She owed them that much, and then she went to him.
Standing in front of his grave, with its crumbling epitaph, Hermione told him that she had finally told the truth about them. About their love and about how she wished she had followed her heart and gave up her marriage to be with him when she could.