Title: Happily Ever Afterlife
Music: Jessica Simpson - I Wanna Love You Forever
Relationship: Hermione/Cedric
Summary: Death isn't what she thought it would be... But it has an incredible promise if she's willing to take a chance.
Happily Ever Afterlife
by: atruwriter
She always imagined that when she died, the people who met her there would more than likely be those lost in earlier battles that led to the war. Her mind would conjure the images of Remus and Tonks and Dumbledore, too. And they'd calm her with their reassuring smiles and open arms. They'd assure her that Harry and Ron and all the others she treasured so would be fine. That right then, seconds after her demise, they had conquered and she was free to die without guilt.
She'd heard it said many times that death was a new journey but she'd been certain that, logically, her body and mind and magic would die and she would simply dissipate over the years. Her earthly shell would bow down against life's natural chain and she'd rot in the ground in some overpriced box. Somewhere, in the recesses of her thoughts, she had hoped there was a heaven. That if a world like that of wizards and witches and unimaginable magic could exist, then why not a heavenly afterlife?
But as her soul escaped her body, it did not rise above her, lingering in the air to look down on the bloody mess of the battlefield. Nor did it fly up into the stars and explode into its own cosmic sign. She didn't float into the clouds where Gods sat watching over them or bask in the wisdom and love of an almighty Lord.
Instead, she was whisked away through her memories. The first time she met Harry and Ron, when she spotted Crookshanks and he mewled at her rather acceptingly, when her parents kissed her goodbye and hello, her first crush, her first skinned-knee, her last kiss, her last smile, her most momentous and disastrous occasions, until quite suddenly, as if it had all happened in but a blink of an eye, it was she stood there, surrounded by empty blackness.
There were footsteps, or what she thought must be footsteps. Coming closer now. And for some absurd moment she wondered if this was her maker, come to tell her that it was all done and over and she would simply be. No breathing or reading or eating or laughing. Just be; an unused, unknown organism with no purpose at all.
But then, the figure became clearer and she squinted her eyes as she was now beginning to believe that death had not come knocking but she had in fact, simply bumped her head.
"Diggory?" she muttered in muted shock.
He smiled, the curve of his lips seeming rather unfit for their surroundings.
"Even in death you can't call me by my first name?" he queried.
Her brow furrowed. "So I am dead then?"
"That would be what that green light was," he drawled.
She pursed her lips, unamused.
He let out a light chuckle and while she hated to admit it, the thick rumble that exited his chest with such vigor actually made her feel a little lightheaded. Years ago, back when they were both alive, she'd harbored a very tiny fancy for the former Hufflepuff. He wasn't her usual type, although until this moment she hadn't realized she'd even had a type. He was much... er, prettier than those she'd previously liked. With his always-flushed cheeks and his crooked grin. Those brown eyes with flecks of gold that reminded her of the Hufflepuff colors. And... Well, as she'd said, it wasn't the time to be thinking of this. Should there even be emotion now that she was dead?
"So what now then?" she asked, planting her hands on her hips.
"Always to the point, aren't you Granger?"
She quirked a brow and waited impatiently.
He continued to grin at her, making her nervous. "What do you think happens now?"
She sighed. "Is this a guessing game? I figured death would be much more peaceful."
His brows rose slightly. "You find me aggravating then?"
"Not aggravating, exactly. But..." She huffed. "Oh do just hurry it up. Shouldn't you be reassuring me or something?"
He chuckled. "So you know how death works despite my being far more dead than you've been?"
"I don't believe being dead longer than me should really be something you boast over," she replied primly.
"Well if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had to wait around here for three years."
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me? I had absolutely no hand in your death." Her eyes narrowed. "And I'll thank you never to accuse me of something so horrid again. If I had my wand on me..."
He shook his head. "You misunderstand completely."
"I... I what?" She frowned. "I don't think there was really any other way to interpret your blatant accusation that I forced you into death somehow!"
He smiled that irritatingly sweet smile of his. "I'm here because I've been waiting for you..."
"W-waiting for me?" She looked down, confused now. She hated that feeling with a passion. "But why? We hardly knew each other and I'd think there was someone far more equipped for the job... I could list a few off the top of my head right now and-"
His chuckle interrupted her and she once more felt as if she'd been left out of something much larger.
"All right, I give in... What?"
He stared at her a moment. "What do you think happens when you die, Granger?"
Her brow wrinkled. "Exactly what kind of timeline are we following here? Because I don't think you want to hear about the decomposition process..."
His laughter was really beginning to irritate her. "Where do you think you go?" he clarified.
She looked around her with a sour expression on her face. "Quite obviously, I believe I'm asking you that question..."
He grinned once more and she wasn't sure why, but she felt torn between smiling back and wanting to slap that silly smile right off his face.
"Did you know that in some cultures they believe that when a person dies they move on to the next plain of existence? So there's a good possibility that you lived far back when witches and wizards had first evolved." He smirked slightly. "Perhaps you're the original Rowena Ravenclaw... I wouldn't put it past you."
She felt a blush bloom on her cheeks but cleared her throat and nodded for him to continue.
"In any case, it's time for you to start your next journey..."
Her brows narrowed. "Why tell me then? Why not just send me off?"
"Each journey is different. Each person heading there is going to experience something they haven't in the past. But it's not forced upon them. You have a choice... You can either take this new life and live it from the beginning or you can see what else the afterlife offers. You can see if there really is a God. Or if, in fact, there's more than one."
Biting her lip, she looked around. "And how do I know which to pick?"
He nodded, smiling as if she'd just asked the right question. "You can either go blindly forward, walk through this darkness until you find whatever it is you're looking for... Or..." He quirked a brow. "Or you can see everything that your next life is meant to be made of right now. In just a split second, you'll see everything. From childhood to death, love and loss, friends and companions... And if you choose that path, then you go on to be born again, in a world you won't know, where these memories are gone entirely..."
He stared at her searchingly. "There'll be no Harry or Ron or any of that if you leave... And when they pass on, they'll have that same choice. They can go on to the next life or they can decide that this was their last, that they need no other..."
She swallowed, this really did seem quite larger than she ever expected. "And I can see this life now... But I don't necessarily have to live it?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Of course," he assured. He lifted a hand to her. "You can see it all and then... choose."
The expression on his face, it was so... She couldn't explain it. It was as if he needed her to see this life; as if saying no now would ruin something for him. His eyes were so intense and she swore, for just a moment, the gold in his eyes burned brightly. He wasn't smiling now; he was only waiting with bated breath to see her next move.
Her hand twitched at her side. If she saw her next life would it make it harder to say no? A world without Ron and Harry felt... wrong. But then, they'd have this choice too wouldn't they? And she'd done her duty until her dying day. She had no reason to walk this darkness, searching for something that might not be there. She was only going to look, there was no harm in that...
Reaching out, she took his hand. She felt a shiver run down her spine; his fingers were so warm.
A bright light shone in her eyes and she blinked rapidly, wanting to lift her hand and shield herself. And then... there was crying; screaming wails, really. And a Muggle doctor was staring at her as he seemed to lift her high above his head.
"It's a girl!" he exclaimed.
There was a flurry of movement all around and she was being bathed and fretted over by nurses before all of a sudden, she was being handed over to a woman. She was pale and weary and there were tears falling from her blue eyes as she gazed down at Hermione with that same look she saw pass her mother's face each time she returned for Hols from Hogwarts.
"She's beautiful... Absolutely stunning. Look at her, Henry. Just... Just look at her."
A man came forward there, looking down at her with red-rimmed eyes. He righted his crooked glasses and sniffled before nodding. "Yeah... She'll be a heartbreaker, all right."
The woman giggled, shaking her head back and forth. "What will we name her?"
"You said you wanted to name her after your mother, dear..." His nose wrinkled with distaste but he tried to hide it.
"No," the woman disagreed. "No, I think she deserves a name all her own."
"How about..."
Suddenly, they were gone and for a reason she couldn't explain, Hermione felt her heart tug and she wanted to be back with them. She swore she felt that woman's arms around her, cuddling her like her mother had when she was just a little girl. She missed the warmth, the embracing safety in those arms.
"Come lay down, dear!"
"Oh but it's snowing," Hermione heard herself say, even felt her lips move. And from where she stood, she swore she could see the down-like snowflakes fluttering to the ground with haste.
"I can see that. But you have to get ready. You haven't even changed out of your pj's!"
"But they're so warm, mummy. And I don't like that dress. It's pink!"
"You loved pink last week."
"Well I don't now!" she replied, frowning. "Pink is for girls."
"Honey, you are a girl."
"Well I don't wanna be!" Stomping her foot, she hurried over and hopped under the covers, pulling them over her head. "I wish I was a boy, just like daddy, and I'd wear pants every day! And you know what?" She didn't wait for a reply. "They'd never be pink!"
Her mother sighed, shaking her head.
Hermione's face burrowed against her pillow with rebellion. She felt as though she'd never turn her attention to pink again except to show just how much she hated it by pretending to vomit!
Once more, she felt it all drift away and she was suddenly standing next to a bus stop, holding a backpack at her feet and tugging on her dress, wishing it was much longer... and a t-shirt and pants. She frowned down at herself. Today was her first day of grade three, so why did she have to dress up? She'd be in the same class with the same kids and the same teacher... So what was the big deal? She rolled her eyes to herself, wishing the day was over and she could be at home, digging holes in the backyard with her best pal ever, her dog Roland. And then she'd take all that dirt and she mix it with water and make it into a big, giant, huge chocolate cake and she'd feet it to her sister Jean because Jean was the baby of the family and she always did what she told her to do.
Just as she was about to laugh over how much Jean would pretend to like it, she heard a sudden noise and turned abruptly.
There was a young boy kneeling on the ground, trying to pick up all of his stuff after it fell out of his hands. There were books and pencils and nice, newly-sharpened pencil crayons all over the place. He tossed his gym shorts over his shoulder with a sigh and tried to stuff all of his pencil crayons back in the torn box.
Scuffing the pavement with her shoe, she walked over to help, kneeling down and grabbing up all the papers that had fallen out. With precise shuffling, she got them all back into order and closed the yellow binder around them. He sure liked yellow, she noticed. His shirt was a bright yellow and so were his sneakers.
After everything was put back together, he stood up wobbily and flicked his head, getting his sandy brown hair out of his eyes. "Thanks," he said, smiling crookedly.
She nodded, suddenly feeling a weird tightness in her stomach. He didn't look like the other boys in her class. He had pink cheeks like he'd just been running all over the playground and brown eyes that had his favorite color in them, more yellow. And he smiled differently too.
"Yeah..." she replied, shaking her head. She handed over his things and then took a step back, turning toward the bus stop pole. "Are you new?" she asked.
He nodded, still smiling funny at her. "Yeah... We just moved here."
"Oh..." She tugged at her dress uncomfortably. "You'll like it. The school's really fun and the teacher's nice."
He held his things tight to his chest and looked at her from the corner of his eyes.
Uncomfortably, she shifted back and forth on her feet. With a sigh, she asked, "What?"
His cheeks seemed to get pinker then. "I... Um..." He turned away, spotted the bus coming around the corner and then looked at her again. "You're really pretty... in that dress, I mean." He turned away again and she was so stunned, she nearly didn't get in the bus when it pulled up.
Maybe pink wasn't so bad.
As she stepped on the first stair of the bus, it faded away.
She sighed, glaring down at her younger sister. "You're not doing it right. You have to put the clips in just so or they'll look messy." Huffing, she directed her sister Jean to sit down on the stool. "Here, let me do it."
She grumbled to herself as she carefully did Jean's hair so it would look nice for her first day of first grade.
"D'you think they'll like me?" Jean wondered, tugging on her shirt.
"Of course they will. And if they don't, then they're just silly little dum-dum's. Isn't that right?"
Giggling, Jean nodded her head, covering her smiling mouth with her hands.
"Oh look! Now you've ruined your hair. I'll have to do it again!"
Jean simply kicked her legs back and forth. "Can I be as smart as you?"
She looked down at her little sister with a lifted brow. "You can be smarter. But you have to read lots and lots and you have to listen to everything the teacher says and you can't wear pink."
"Why not?"
"Because pink makes boys notice you and you don't want that. If you're smart, you don't need boys. You have your brain. Besides... boys are silly!" She made a face and then smiled as Jean giggled once more.
"But your friends with a boy... And he's not silly, is he? I think he's very pretty and I like him."
She rolled her eyes. "He's not pretty; he's a boy."
"But he has pretty pink cheeks and he has nice eyes too!"
Frowning, she shook her head. "He's just a boy. And friend or not, he's silly like all the rest."
"I don't think so," Jean said, shaking her head. "I think one day you'll think he's pretty just like me."
"I won't!" she declared hotly.
Jean only smiled.
Suddenly, she wasn't so young and she wasn't with her sister.
She was tapping her pencil on her desk. She'd already finished the test and she felt very sure that after checking it three times, she was in fact going to get an A. At least she'd better; she spent her entire weekend studying and ignoring calls from her friends. She loved History but she also loved spending time with Holly and Rachel.
"Psst..."
She lifted her head, eyes narrowed.
"Psst..."
She turned left and then right before suddenly feeling a tap on her shoulder. Turning in her seat a little, she looked back to see a boy grinning at her. "What'd you get for number seven?"
Rolling her eyes, she replied, "I won't help you cheat."
He chuckled under his breath. "I was done twenty minutes ago... I just want to know if you did as good as me."
Her jaw fell open.
He only laughed again.
Glaring at him, she turned back in her seat.
Five seconds later, he had the audacity to tap her shoulder again.
Turning back around, she hissed, "If you don't stop, we'll both get detention!"
He didn't look the least bit upset. "If it's the only way I'm going to get you to spend any time with me, my grades can suffer a little."
She felt a blush reminiscent of many times before fuse her cheeks. "If you get me stuck in detention, I swear-"
"Is there a problem here?" the teacher said rather loudly.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
She just knew he was grinning.
When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the middle of what looked like a high school prom. There were bright colorful lights all over and the gym was all trussed up. A live band was playing in the background and there was a stage set up to the side for couples to get their pictures taken. She could feel the corsage on her wrist and her eyes fell to the long butter-yellow gown she was wearing. Her chest tightened; she felt like a princess. She wondered how unusual it would look if she suddenly started twirling around.
A hand on the small of her back was the only thing to stop her from trying. She looked up to see a familiar crooked smile staring back at her.
"Are we going to dance or do I have to drag you out there?"
She frowned. "My feet hurt already."
"So take your heels off."
"But that will make you too tall for me," she muttered, shaking her head.
He laughed lightly. "I can try shrinking or I can lift you up..."
Her eyes widened. "You wouldn't!"
His eyes glittered with amusement. "Shrink or lift you?"
"Either," she deadpanned.
Shaking his head, he took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. His arm slid around her waist, holding her tight against him and she found her cheek rested against his chest quite comfortably. She could hear his heart over the music and she found its rhythm much more intoxicating. Her eyes fell to half mass as they swayed back and forth and made a tiny circle. She felt his chin on the top of her head and if she were at all girly, she might've told him to stop so he didn't mess up her hair. But he could probably render her bald in that moment and she wouldn't care so long as they just kept dancing.
"Hey!" she heard and opened her eyes to see a grinning red-head staring back at her. "Have you seen Lucas? He said he was going to get me something to eat..." She pouted at her. "He's so weird though, he probably ran off to some fast-food joint for me."
"I'm sure he's here somewhere, Rach..." She frowned then. "You're still hungry? We went out for dinner beforehand..."
Rachel sighed. "Fish and chips didn't fill me up at all..."
"Could've fooled me... You ate half of mine, too."
Rachel simply rolled her eyes. "Hey, there's Holly, maybe she's seen him." She grinned suddenly. "Did you see her with Greg? He's had a crush on her for ages!"
She smiled, watching her friend rush off toward the raven-haired girl dressed in a dark green cocktail dress.
Left alone with him once more, she felt her heartbeat race slightly. What was the matter with her? They were just friends... So what if he'd grown up to be incredibly handsome? Never losing that smile of his or those naturally flushed cheeks. So what if he made butterflies dance in her stomach or her palms sweaty just with a laugh? They were just... friends. And that was good. Great. Fine. It was how it was supposed to be.
He drew back from her just slightly and she found herself lifting her head to see what he was doing. He grinned down at her with that infectious smile of his. "You know, soon we'll be on completely different campuses... You'll be at Cambridge and I'll be at Oxford and... We'll probably only see each other over holidays but..."
"You sound like you're trying to break up with me," she told him, smiling slightly. "Which must be hard since we're not going out."
"Right, yeah, I... I know that, I just..." He nodded, clearing his throat and giving her a small smile. "It'll just be different... Not seeing you every day."
She smiled. "Well we can always write and talk on the phone and... And like you said, we'll have the hols." She chuckled. "I'm sure Jean will like that you come by and visit. She still hasn't stopped fancying you."
He smiled. "I'm very fanciable."
She rolled her eyes. "So I've heard."
"You never know... You might just miss me when you're off getting your high education."
"Hm, maybe." Sighing, she leaned back in and pressed her cheek to his chest again. She knew she'd miss him. She almost felt like she did already.
He squeezed her, his hands running up and down her back soothingly. Her eyes fell closed; he was so warm.
Upon opening them, she was staring at a handsome young man with a warm and very non-crooked smile. "I can't believe I'm meeting your parents."
She returned his smile with a little more hesitance. "Me either..."
"Do you think they'll like me?" he wondered, fiddling with his tie.
"Of course." Reaching up, she swatted his hands away and took his tie from him, undoing it entirely before retying properly.
He grinned thankfully. "Good. I... I really want them to."
"Don't be so nervous, Vince. They'll love you." She wasn't lying; she just knew they'd love him. He was nice and smart and proper. And no doubt her sister would notice he was very handsome and affectionate toward her.
"All right... Well, we should go in before they start to wonder."
Nodding, she took a deep breath and then lifted her hand to knock on the door. It opened mere seconds afterwards and she was greeted by her father's face. Before pulling her into a bear hug, he righted his glasses like always and then drew her in tight. "Oh, you've grown... You used to be so small... I remember when I could throw you over my shoulder like you were nothing."
"Dad..." she sighed affectionately, stepping back. She smiled up at him and then remembering the man behind her, she turned suddenly. "Right, dad, this is Vince, Vince, this is Henry, my dad."
Hands were shook and pleasantries were exchanged, with her dad giving her a sly wink as he closed the door behind them. Rolling her eyes, she shrugged her jacket off and went to look for her mum and sister. She could smell the freshly baked Christmas cookies from where she stood and her mouth watered with the simple memory. As she stepped into the living room, she was assaulted with greetings from cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents. Smiling at them all, she moved to say hello to her mother, who had already risen from her seat on the couch and was hurrying toward her. It was as she was hugging her mum that she spotted a familiar face. Chin perched on her mum's shoulder, she noticed him sitting right next to the fire. He had a present next to him and Jean was on the floor, legs crossed beneath her as she smiled up at him adoringly.
Drawing away, her mum cupped her face affectionately. "Look at you, I feel like it's been years."
She smiled. "I talked to you on the phone yesterday and I was here back in October..."
"Still, it's been months..." She fretted over her lovingly, wrapping an arm around her and bringing her further into the living room. But before she could sit, she spotted her dad returning to the room with Vince and she bypassed the sofa to return to his side.
"Why don't you introduce him to everyone, dear?" her father suggested before moving to stand next to his wife.
"Thanks. Well, Vince, this is... everyone." She smiled uncomfortably. "Everyone, this is Vince. My boyfriend."
There was a sudden roar in chatter and everybody was turning around in their seats to get a good look at him. He smiled charmingly and started talking to whoever it was had gained his attention. She looked over to her mum for a reaction only to find she looked quite confused and was turning to stare at him next to the fireplace. He gave her a half-smile and shook his head.
Confused, she wanted to ask what was going on, but then, it was all gone.
"Who was that bloke? Staring at you half the night..." Vince lifted a thick brow wonderingly.
"You'll have to be more specific," she replied, half-smiling.
"Tall, lanky, spent most of his time trying to run off from your little sister... Ring any bells?"
With a stiff smile, she shrugged. "He's a friend. One I've known since primary school."
"He stared at you a lot..."
Furrowing her brow, she looked over at him. "So?"
"He stared at you like... like I stare at you." His eyes bore into hers searchingly.
Letting out a strangled laugh, she shook her head. "Don't be silly. He's... You were just seeing things. We're close, that's all."
"How close?"
With a roll of her eyes, she replied, "If you're implying what I think you are, this holiday is going to be a lot shorter for you."
"I'm not... Implying what you think I am, I mean. I just..." His hands reached out, stroking her side affectionately. "Just checkin' out the competition, love."
She smiled back at him, wondering if he could see the strain at the corner of her lips. "No competition to speak of, Vince."
With a wink, he sat back away from her and turned on the telly, searching for something sports-oriented to watch. Distracted, he patted the seat next to him for her to take.
There was a moment of hesitance but before she could think it over, she was somewhere else.
"So... How's Vince?"
Turning around, she found herself standing in the living room of her home once more. But the Christmas decorations were now gone and instead she saw a Happy Birthday banner strung across the wall over the unlit fireplace. His crooked smile was dim and the party hat he was supposed to wearing on his head had been pushed back, now only hanging off him by the thin elastic string.
"He's fine," she replied, lifting a shoulder. Vince was back in Cambridge, studying and working. He was sorry he couldn't make it out for her birthday, but there really was so much to do. "What are you doing here? I figured you'd be busy with exams at Oxford..."
"I was." He shrugged. "Some things are more important."
She felt her stomach clench and unexpected tears prick her eyes that she blinked away hastily. "That's sweet of you, I... I don't know what to say."
He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth. "I made captain..." He grinned. "For my first year, I really didn't think I'd do anything but sit on the bench. But coach says my love of football rivals even his own, so..."
"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, beaming.
"Yeah... Yeah, it is..." He cleared his throat before lifting a hand from his pocket. "I've missed you," he admitted rather abruptly. "A lot, actually. And... And I know that this is completely out of place for me to say, but... I hope you miss me too. Because some days I think... All those years ago, when I saw you in that pink dress and... and we were waiting for the bus... I think I fell for you and I never quite stopped..."
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "We... We were only eight..."
He half-grinned, nodding. "I know..." He looked up at her, his brow knotted. "And I know how insane it sounds, but... I've known you since you were that little girl who hated pink and... And I know you've changed but some part of you hasn't and I love both parts. I... I wanted to tell you, a long time ago. But then there was college and then Vince and... And I just started to worry that there might never be a right time, so... So here I am and... And I'm confessing love in the worst possible way... Because I'm rambling and you have a boyfriend and you're only here for your birthday, so..." He ran a hand through his hair with distress.
She didn't know what to say. In secondary school, sometimes, she had wondered and hoped and then convinced herself that it was ridiculous. But then, she was in college and... Well, nobody quite had his grin or his way with flustering her. Nobody brushed her hair out of her eyes like he did or make her stomach tighten just my laughing. And she... She really had missed him. So very much. But... he was right. Maybe now wasn't the time and...
And he kissed her.
It seemed he didn't want the moment to quite end at that awkward declaration because his lips were on hers. Smooth and soft and warm they collided with her own so... perfectly. She was certain that for a second, she saw stars. They were there, floating just out of reach, stuck behind her eyelids like shards of glittering glass. And then his lips parted and so did hers, taking in a deep breath before his mouth covered hers once more and his tongue slipped past, tangling and stroking her own. One of his hands rose, buried in her hair, while the other gripped her hip almost desperately. And suddenly, she was that little girl in the pink dress and she was the college girl in the yellow sweater and she was kissing him. Him, who tasted so sweet and warm and like nothing she'd ever tasted before. Better than homemade cookies and an A on an exam. Better than one of her mum's hugs or her dad's reassuring voice. Better than everything she'd ever known or seen or felt.
And then they were parting and their lips were a scant breath apart, the air between them warm against her wet lips. Her eyes opened, stared into his own, and it seemed as though all those gold flecks had taken over and his eyes were nothing but rich with love.
Her lashes fell for just a second, brushing her cheeks, and when they lifted she was staring at him again. Except now he was wearing a tux and she was in a white gown and they were holding hands in front of a priest. And she didn't have to wonder or question; there was no fear or worry. Because this was him and her and this was how it was meant to be.
I love you she mouthed.
And he gave her that crooked grin of hers.
"You may now kiss the bride."
She felt her breath stutter, as if this was the first kiss she'd ever had and somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew it was going to be the best. That from here on in, there would be nothing better than his lips against hers.
"Mum! I wanted that cookie!" a shout invaded her ears. Another scene, another moment, years later.
"But this cookie is better," she told him, passing it to him.
"Is not! You're only saying that because I got the good one!"
She sighed. "Don't tease your brother."
"Is she right? Mum? I wanted that cookie! Why do I always get the bad one?"
"No cookie's bad, son. Especially made by your mum."
"Don't let grandmum hear you say that, daddy!" their daughter stage-whispered.
A lop-sided grin appeared. "I'll try my best. Now... who wants to play their old dad in a game of football?"
"I do!"
"Me too!"
"All right, you two against me then... Last one to the backyard has to take out the garbage tonight!"
Laughing, the three of them fled her kitchen and she was left staring out the window, watching them wrestle with each other for the ball. Shaking her head, she smiled to herself. She really couldn't ask for a better family.
She could hear music. Soft and melodic, it seemed to wrap her up and match her heartbeat thump for thump. And her feet were moving, here or there, around and around. Her hand was held tight by another's, one she knew just by the warmth of the fingers threaded with hers. She felt his lips brush her temple and for a moment, she felt like a young woman, fresh and lively. But somehow she knew that when she brought her face back from its comfortable station against his chest, she'd see an older man staring back at her, and in his golden-brown eyes, the reflection of a much older her would stare back.
"Do you think if we're sly about it, we might be able to dance right out of here?" he wondered, voice low against her ear.
She slapped his shoulder admonishingly but grinned anyway. "We can't just skip out. It's our duty to be here."
"They left already and so did our new son-in-law's parents, so why do we have to stick around?" Drawing back, he stared down at her skeptically. "You aren't planning to clean up afterwards, are you? Because we hired people specifically for that."
Pursing her lips, she turned her eyes to the side. "Yes but they never get everything put away properly and I just want to be sure..."
His warm laughter made her stomach squirm and she let out a sigh of both frustration at his amusement and content all the same. "Just one more song and then we'll leave..."
"No dishes or properly arranged table settings you want to deal with?" he teased.
"Shut it or you'll sleep on the couch."
With a lopsided grin, he pulled her back in tight against him. "Two songs and we'll go..."
She sighed, smiling happily.
In the blink of an eye, the wedding and all that it entailed was gone.
"Grandmummy?"
She turned to look down at him, swiping a lock of graying hair from her face. When had she gotten so old? How many years had passed now?
"I told Peter I wanted the last cookie, but he took it anyway..." She stuck her lower lip out for effect.
With a sigh, she shook her head. "There's more in the cupboard, dear. Ask your grandfather to get them down for you."
"Oh but he's playing with daddy outside. He says that he'll let daddy have two points for every goal compared to his one. But I think grampy will still win."
She smiled warmly. "Of course he will, dear. He just likes to let your dad think he might... Nobody else will play him anymore."
"Daddy says one of these days grampy will be so old, he'll just have to win... That or he'll throw in his cleats forever and ever!"
"Did he now?" She smiled. "Well, maybe you should follow after your mum in good sportsmanship, hm?"
Her granddaughter giggled, climbing up to sit next to her on the armchair. "Grandmum, is it true you and grampy have been together a hundred million years?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"A hundred-million and one," she replied dramatically.
"Really?" she squealed.
Laughing, she shook her head. "Do I really look that old?"
"You don't look a day over twenty, love," she heard and looked up just as her husband bent down to kiss her cheek.
She pursed her lips. "You lie but I love you anyway."
He grinned, tossing the ball in the air. "Our son-in-law nearly beat me today."
She lifted a brow. "Mm, doubling his points probably helped."
He simply shrugged. "He was happy enough with it. I let him get a few goals in and he didn't complain."
"You tease the poor man." She shook her head. "He'll never win and we both know it."
"I know it, too!" their granddaughter exclaimed, smiling.
They chuckled.
There was a pain in her chest, she blinked suddenly and when it dissipated she found herself in a hospital bed. "Where am I?"
The man sitting next to her jolted at her voice. He stared at her worriedly. "You're fine." He stood up, stroking her white hair from her forehead. He gave her a soft smile, one that she could see was filled with restrained sadness. "Did you know they have pink blankets here?"
She wrinkled her noise.
He laughed but she could hear the hitch in it. He stared down at her with searching brown eyes, stroking her temple lovingly with his thumb. "Do you remember anything?"
"Just a pain... in my chest."
"You had a stroke..." He shook his head, clenching his eyes closed for a moment. "Nearly gave me one of my own..."
Reaching up, she touched his hand with hers. "I'm fine."
He nodded. "You will be." Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to hers. "I won't lose you."
"No... You won't."
She felt his tears fall to her cheeks just as her own escaped her eyes.
"Are you awake?"
The hospital was gone and she felt certain the stroke was months, maybe even years, past. Their bedroom was dark with night and she rolled over in his arms to better see him. "I never saw the point in that question," she replied, fingers finding the button on his pajama shirt and playing with it absently.
He grinned crookedly at her.
"You look younger in this light," she murmured.
He chuckled. "You can't see me... You don't have your glasses."
"That could be it too," she admitted.
"How young do I look?"
She rolled her eyes. "Young enough."
His hand stroked her shoulder. "You still look like the girl I fell in love with."
"I was eight then," she replied smiling.
"All right, you look like the girl who fell in love with me."
She was quiet for a moment before saying, "I was eight then too."
He smiled. "So you did like me then? What was it? The yellow sneakers or the yellow shirt?"
She laughed. "Your eyes, actually."
"Really?" he wondered softly.
Staring up at him in the darkness, she really did see a much younger man. Perhaps not eight, but definitely a younger him. "I've always loved your eyes, you know that."
"Mm, but I thought it was just one of my many attractive traits."
Shaking her head, she smiled as she burrowed her face against his chest. "Young as you may look, you're still old."
"You're not getting any younger either."
She nodded against him before querying, "How much time do you think we have?"
"Who says death means we've run out of time?" She felt the rumble of his voice through his chest. "It's just the next journey... Another adventure."
"Can I spend it with you?" She looked up at him hopefully.
Stroking her cheek, he replied, "I don't want to spend it with anyone else."
She smiled. "Then it's settled then."
He grinned. "It is."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
There was light; bright and consuming and suddenly, darkness.
Hermione blinked rapidly, drawing in air as if she hadn't breathed in ages. She looked around, brow furrowed, only to find herself standing next to... To him. But not. It was Cedric... Cedric Diggory. And all the same, it was the him from this new journey. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. The memories, an entire lifetime's worth...
"That's why you stayed... It's why you waited for me, wasn't it?" She looked up at him. "You saw the same life."
"Not exactly... My life was through my eyes and so... I saw you, wanted you, but knew I couldn't have you. So I waited and then I blurted it out... But I was there for a lot of your life..."
She stared up at him. "You were the best part of my life."
He smiled and just that crooked look to it made her want to kiss him.
"There was no magic," she murmured rather obtusely. "None at all."
"None that the next us would know of..." He shook his head. "You aren't a witch in the coming life."
She frowned. Magic seemed like such a huge part of her. But then... This other her was different, wasn't she?
"So you made your choice then... All those years ago..." She looked up at him. "You decided a life with me was better than whatever lay out there?" Her eyes glanced at the black around them.
She felt his thumb stroke her knuckles. "That life is not without its ups and downs but... The me that lives there... He loves you..." His brows rose. "He loves you in a way I could never truly imagine until I felt it... Until I saw and knew what he did..." He swallowed tightly. "And I'm prepared to be him and to love you... Just as, if not more, passionately."
Hermione Granger, for the first time in all her years, felt as though she could cry and laugh and truly embrace a real matter of the heart. "And I you," she replied.
He grinned, lopsided and crooked and just as warm as ever. And then he tugged her hand, drawing her closer, and as he bent toward her and their lips met, a bright white light surrounded them.
"It's a girl!" the doctor announced.
And a screaming, wailing, Helena Grant entered the Muggle world with no recollection of magic or anything related to it. She would live a regular life, with love and loss, parents who adored her, a sister who admired her, a boy who would become her best friend and most incomparable love. And one day, when death met her once more, she would have yet another choice. But this time, Helena had finally found that true and honest life she'd been looking for.
She had not, like her former self, died young, but instead had lived a long and very fulfilling life. And when the opportunity arose from the darkness, asking her if she'd like to see another lifetime, she declined very simply. Instead, she waited patiently for her husband to appear, having lived out his life the same. And when he too appeared in the strange black abyss, he took one look at her, smiled, and their choice was made. They would not chance to see what another journey might give them, for their lives had been an experience that could not be outdone.
And with that, the many facets of the woman were finally laid to rest. Lives past, her loves and her losses, the many ways she came to die and the uncountable adventures she had part in, were now behind her. Hermione Granger and whoever she might've been before, settled into a calm sense of passing on. Her history had come to its end and she was able to step into the dark surroundings with her husband's hand held tight in her own, to search for what their happily ever afterlife would be like. What awaited them, neither knew, but they would face it together.