Time had Gotten Away from Her, Again.


I own nothing, A/N: JKR gave us an epilogue that was way sketchy. So here we go. 4 yrs post-epilogue.


When Hermione Granger entered her office at the ministry, the owl was already perched on the back of her red dragonhide chair. The confident woman stood there, paralyzed by the fear that gripped her gut as she noticed the St. Mungos band around the leg of the messenger. She had stared defiant into the faces of death eaters, had lured a werewolf away from those she loved, had stood with the Order and proved herself worthy—all these things she had done while still a child. Now as a grown woman, she was terrified of a messenger. That little band meant loss.

Turning her head away from the spectre of death, the brightest witch of her age sank beneath the weight of what was certainly written on the scroll attached to the bird's leg. Time had gotten away from her again: time to say those things that make us all vulnerable, time to be redeemed, time to be forgiven.

The large owl spread its wings and with one beat glided over to land on the sobbing woman's knee, a talon digging in forced her to look up. Gasping at the sudden pain, Hermione took the small piece of parchment from the owl's leg and watched it fly from the room before steeling herself to read what it contained.


Mi,

She doesn't have much time—I don't know if I can do this without you. Please come.

She asked for you this morning.

G.


Not gone yet. There was still time.

They're my family.

I can do this.

Hermione rubbed the sore spot on her knee and brandishing her wand, sent her patronus down to the creche asking for someone to get Angus ready to go again. It was time for Hermione to be a Gryffindor and face the only mother she had left.

She asked for me.

Tears filled the woman's eyes as she moved quickly to her secretary's desk. "Honore', I have a family emergency. I'll be at...St Mungo's. If anyone needs me, pass it over to Gabrielle or Anwar. I'll check in later." Hermione looked into her office, gaze settling on the red chair, Charlie's chair. She closed the door quietly, running her fingers over the name on the plaque affixed there.

Hermione Granger

Department of International Relations

Director


Clutching her small son, Angus, to her chest almost as a shield against what was to come, Hermione apparated into the lobby of St Mungo's. Instantly, she was overcome by the anxiety that she had associated with this place since the war.

Breathe. Ginny needs you. For Merlin's sake, don't fail them again.

"Mummy, down" protested 18 month old Angus, struggling in her arms. He was so stubborn, just like his father.

Why do those words echo in my mind?

It would have been nice to have her husband here to lean on, but his presence would have produced mixed reactions from those she would be seeing in short order. Better that he was still in the States organizing their new Quidditch league. She'd owl him later.

"Angus, let's go find Uncle George."

"Forge? candy?"

"Alright, just this once." She couldn't help but smile as the black haired toddler wriggled with delight. He loved George, and the fact that he had called the tall red-headed twin Forge from his first utterances had formed a special bond between the two.


"May I help you?" The officious medi-witch asked.

"Yes, I'm looking for Molly Weasley."

"Sorry, only family are allowed, Mrs Wood." So the medi-witch knew who she was. Fine.

"I'm sure you misunderstand, my two oldest children are her grandchildren, that makes me family. Forever." Her stern tone of voice was challenging.

A voice from behind her made Hermione cringe,

"Ms Granger is a part of that family, always was."

Draco Malfoy.

Damned if she would have to deal with him forever, at least that's the way it was beginning to look. The attachment between his son Scorpius--what a git to saddle the boy with that moniker--and her Rose seemed genuine. Despite all the effort by the Potter boys, Ron, Hugo and in fact Draco himself, the two may even end up together. She had done her best to prevent a Romeo and Juliet style tragedy from occurring and had found a co-conspirator in Mrs Malfoy, the charming Russian ex-patriot.

"Draco."

"Granger."

"Still acting like a child?"

"No, but I find it difficult to keep up with the changes in your surname."

"Leave it. I have to go see them now." Hermione stared down the hallway that would take her to Molly Weasley's room.

"I'm sorry, truly, I am. If you need anything, come by my offices."

"Keeping office hours, now?"

"Not really, but they need my money so they let me hang around and look busy. Plus, it keeps me out of Svetlana's hair." Draco Malfoy chuckled lightly.

Self-depreciating humor? Will wonders never cease.

"Do you want me to walk with you?" Draco asked, sincere concern in his drawling voice.

"No, thank-you, I'll be alright." But he could hear the uncertainty.

As they went their separate ways, the tall blond man turned, "Hermione? You deserved better than Weasley. I hope Wood knows what he has."

She couldn't respond for a moment. "No, Draco, he deserved better than I gave."


One step following another. That is how I will make it through this day. No lists today, Miss Granger. No grand plans.


Arriving at the terminal ward, Hermione scanned the waiting room. Overcome for a moment with love for the faces she watched from the doorway, still unobserved. Upon a small sofa sat the eternally lovely Fleur, almost unchanged since Hermione had first seen her walking into the great hall in preparation for the Tri-Wizard cup. Her pale hair and perfect skin, her amazingly capable hands stroking the hair back from the forehead of the man she had devoted her life to. Bill, his once handsome face was scarred but a strong and clever mind would be evident when he opened the eyes that were currently closed in a brief respite from the day's trauma. On Fleur's other side sat her 10 yr old son Anton. Snuggled into his mother's side, the boy was a perfect mix of his parents. Hearts would break when he came of age.

Hermione looked around for Fleur and Bill's oldest child, finding her in a far corner leaning into the arms of her husband Teddy. She looked about to pop any day. Hermione suspected that Molly might have been hanging on in the hopes of seeing her first great-grandchild. Teddy looked subdued, his mercurial hair and features were stilled in a version of himself that was so much like his father that it brought tears to her eyes remembering the man.

I wonder if he carries chocolate in his pockets.


Yes, this is my family. Not by my birth, but certainly in my heart.


At almost the same instant when Ginny emerged from a room across from the doorway where Hermione stood, George appeared in the hall behind her. She was aware of Ginny because Hermione could see her. George? The squeal of Angus was the indicator there.

"Forge! Mummy, down! Forge!" Angus was struggling with all his little boy might. Fortunately, Hermione turned to see that George was carrying a tray of coffees and the certain headlong rush of Angus would have been disastrous. Pulling her wand, Hermione stabilized the coffees and "unleashed the hounds" as it were. The smile that broke out across George's face as the small boy launched himself into the arms of the tall redheaded man was a joy to observe.

"Oi, Gus, how are you. Taking care of Mummy while your da's away?"

The small boy shook his head so hard that his head of black curls bobbed about him.

"Aw'right then, ya little blighter." George smiled at Hermione over his god son's head and mouthed candy, a quirk to his eyebrow.

Hermione just nodded.

"It's in one of my pockets." George said conspiratorially as Angus squealed and began going through his favorite playmate's pockets looking for sweets.

Hermione was drawn from the scene by a hand on her shoulder. She placed her own hand over Ginny's and gave her a small squeeze. The sensation of being watched was pervasive and so the young woman collected the coffees and turned to face the waiting room.

She hadn't noticed Arthur sitting in the corner closest to what must be Molly's room. He looked aged, defeated and sagged under the weight of his sorrow. Hermione hadn't seen him so torn apart since they'd buried Fred; it was heart-rending. She saw a little light flicker in his eyes as he raised them-- tired and red-rimmed--to meet hers. Carefully setting the tray of coffees down on a table, the younger woman walked to her ex-father-in-law and sunk down beside him. He grasped her hand, as she turned her head into his shoulder to cry.

"I'm glad you came. She wanted to see you. We should all be here, that includes you, Hermione." Arthur spoke softly, his eyes fixed on some point in space.

Hermione raised her eyes to Ginny, a question unspoken but clearly etched on her face. How long has he been like this? Ginny just shook her head gently, a look of fearful acceptance on her familiar freckled face. He won't last long, once she's gone. Hermione turned quickly to appraise the man's face and body language, he was dying as surely as if he had the same rampant cancer that was taking his wife away from him.

It's too much. I can't do this. I thought I could, but I have to get out of here.

Hermione stood and made to run from the feelings that threatened to overwhelm herAdrenalin rushed through her veins, a full blown panic attack was well on its way. She felt helpless. She hadn't had a panic attack in 3 years, not since the last time she'd been here.

Out into the corridor, then down the passage 'til I can apperate.

"Mummy! Da didn't say you'd be here."

Rosie's pretty face was streaked with tears already as she rushed into her mother's arms. Hermione stroked her tall teen daughter's red hair and whispered calming words as another set of arms snaked around her shoulders. Being held by these two children that she'd borne banished the anxiety and fear that had seemed inescapable moments before.

"Mum? Have you seen her?" Hugo asked.

"Not yet. I just got here. How long are you able to stay? I need to see Molly, but I've missed both of you so." Looking around for George and her youngest, Hermione said. "Angus is here, somewhere."

"And Oliver?" The cold tone in Hugo's voice was chilling.

"No. He's in the states, not due back for another week." Hermione looked at her son regretting that his relationship with his step-father had been so tainted by Ron.

Looking around the shoulder of her oldest child, Hermione locked eyes with him.

"Ron." Her voice was soft, timid.

"Hermione." There was no give to either his voice or his features, he didn't want her there. Rosie pulled back from her mother and quirked an eyebrow in near perfect imitation of the older witch. Hermione sighed and mouthed at her daughter. Let it go. She hadn't been in the same room with her ex-husband since he had dropped the divorce papers on her desk nearly 3 years ago. It was still too soon.

Never would be too soon... for him.

Behind her ex-husband stood the third of their "golden trio".

Harry.

He had been abandoned by he and Ginny's three children as they rushed to their mother's side. But he was loathe to step around Ron to greet Hermione. Instead, he favored her with a smile and the look on his face told her that he was glad to see her, even if Ron was not.

"Hermione, would you like to come in with me?" Ginny asked, refusing to make eye contact with her brother.

"Alright." Hermione gave each of her two older children a squeeze and even went so far as to press a kiss to Hugo's handsome freckled face. "I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere, please."

Hermione stepped away from the comfort of her children and gave her nephews, Al and James, each a smile. But stilled to give Lily a hug and a kiss on her cheek.

So much like Ginny.

Like the sisters they were meant to be, Ginny linked her arm with Hermione's and walked with her to a door. A small card was fitted into a sleeve beside the doorframe.

Weasley, Molly


A/N okay, so I'm killing Molly, Ron and Hermione are soooo over , but she's remarried to Oliver (love fascist quidditch captains) (Angus is such a terrific Scottish name) and what's up with Charlie's chair...stay tuned.

I'm compliant all the way through DH. So there. This is post-epilogue.