DISCLAIMER: I own nothing... sniff sniff... it's all JK Rowlings and Joshua Kadisen's... Am I the only one jealous?
Lady Jane …
By R.D. Wind
The war ended three years after their graduation from Hogwart's. At twenty years old, two wizards and one witch had their fill of the world to which they belonged. The deep seeded pain and resentment of what they had been forced to see and do had taken its toll on the saviors of the Wizarding World. Harry Potter did not defeat the darkest wizard in memory alone; it had been a team effort. But that victory came at a cost greater than any could have imagined. The research into the ancient texts to find the correct spells that would vanquish Voldemort cost the three what had brought them together in the first place: their hearts. The pain and deeds seen and done were overwhelming for the friends who, after the final defeat of the Dark Lord, found themselves moving on with their now separate lives to different nations of the world. Yes, the three friends who united under an attack of a Mountain Troll when they were just eleven years old, were unable to come to grips with the final war, and after ten years of friendship, love, and trust, separated and went their own way.
Harry James Potter, desperate to escape the limelight, moved to Spain. It was his attempt to find solace in teaching primary school in a small town. He loved the language and the people. He was accepted as one of their own and protected from the outside world. He never married; unable to forget the woman he had left behind. His best friend Hermione Granger had loved him and Ron. She had told them both that. He didn't mind. He loved them both as well; however, because she could never have chosen between them and as such, left rather than be forced to. He had refused news of the wizarding world for fifty nine years, then an owl brought news that made him return to the world he had long since stopped dreaming about. Arthur Weasley had died at St. Mungo's and the funeral would be the next day. At the age of eighty, Harry knew he must pay respects to the only father he had ever known. He left immediately to return to the world he had left behind so very long ago.
Ronald Bilious Weasley had also left England after the defeat of Voldemort. Putting away the memories of what should have been with Hermione and Harry, he was accepted by Gringott's as a charm breaker in the South American Jungle; becoming a world renowned an authority on the Aztec Wizards and ancient languages. At the age of eighty, was finally at a point he could retire. This decision made on the heels of the news of his father's death, felt like the right thing, the first right thing he had done in a very long time. He returned to see England after almost sixty years away.
The two old friends met at the funeral and found that no time had passed for the team. The days following, they decided to move into a retirement home and get to know one another again. They spoke often of Hermione but did not try to contact her. She had left and it had been her choice to go. They would respect her privacy.
Hermione Jane Granger left for America at the same time her two best friends had left England. Unable to decide between them, she left. Not knowing that when she had, that she was pregnant with both of their children. She moved to a small apartment near Greenwich Village, securing a position with the main branch of the New York Library. When the fraternal twins came, she took her standard six weeks off of work, while securing a reliable witch to act as a nanny while she worked. Harry Bilious Weasley and Ronald James Potter were the images of their fathers.
Two years after the birth of her sons, she had yet to notify either men of their existence. It was that same year when she heard a drawling voice that could belong to none other than Draco Malfoy asking where a book on Ancient Greece could be found. Looking up from her desk into the silver eyes, she smiled when he gasped. He never called her Hermione, preferring to call her Lady Jane. He wanted to leave the war hatred behind, as she did, preferring to call him Drake.
From that day on, he returned everyday to take her to lunch and walk her home. He became a surrogate father who relished in spending time with her sons. He never asked for specifics, rather he decided to let the past go and concentrate on the future. One year after that simple book request, he asked the three of them to help him create a real family. The only one he would ever know. The ceremony was simple as was their life together.
The two never had a child together; instead, he gave his undivided attention to rearing the boys in the country with horses and air on a small ranch in upstate New York. It was a retreat to them all. It was also where, after fifty-six years of marriage, she found she could not face without him anymore. He had died after falling from a horse during a competition. Her sons took her to England to retire. She was a bit surprised to find that they had left her in a home for retired witches and wizards on the outside of Surrey.
She puttered about, usually found with a large book she had requested either from the London or Hogwart's Libraries. She had been there almost three weeks when she recognized the laughter between old friends as they played a game of pool in the game room. Unable to resist the lure of the voices, she found her book closed and her feet moving across the floor to the doorway, ready to convince herself that she was finally losing her mind with grief. She gasped when she saw the reddish-grey haired man laughing at the man with unruly salt and peppered hair and a scar. Unable to stop herself, she said "Ron?" He turned to see who had called him, but she turned quickly and left before he could see her. He walked to the hallway and saw her bushy long grey and brown hair, walking away. Calling out to her, he asked her name. Her answer without stopping to look over her shoulder was "Jane…" as she picked up her book and returned to her room.
It was dinner several days later when she saw them again. She walked past the table where they sat talking. She was startled when the man with salt and pepper hair and a scar he caught her hand as she passed and…
He tells her, "I want to paint you naked on a big brass bed
with bright orange poppies all around your head."
And she says, "Crazy old man, I'm not young anymore."
"That's all right," he whispers, "I've never painted before.
"Do you love me Lady Jane, Lady Jane?
Do you love me Lady Jane, Lady Jane?
You got me talkin' to the moon, you got me walkin' in the rain.
Do you love me, do you love me Lady Jane?"
Blushing, she rolled her eyes, pulled her arm from his grasp and walked away. That night, she had her tray delivered to her room to eat alone and look at pictures of them before the war, when they were happy. Knowing that the two men that had left her at this home were the sons of the two men she loved as much as she ever had Drake.
The next day, she could be found in her familiar couch reading the end of a particularly interesting story about the end of the Great War, scoffing about its inaccuracies about the heroes' emotional involvement. The book had claimed that she was in love with Neville Longbottom and was never interested in Ron Weasley. The truth was that she did not care for Neville as anything other than a friend. Her heart lay, as it always had, with Harry and Ron. She loved them both, seeking the end to the war so the three of them could be together and as she would find out later, rear their children together. None realizing that they would be split within months of their joining. They had both told her that they loved her. She had declared her love for them both. There was no denying it then. There was little denying it now.
She was brought out of her memories by the graying, red-headed man with shocking blue eyes as he knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his telling her,
"I want to read your tea leaves by candle light.
On a fat red velvet sofa, I want to be with you all night.
I want to tickle your feet with a peacock plume."
And she says, "Can you talk a little softer, there are people in the room."
"Do you love me Lady Jane, Lady Jane?
Do you love me Lady Jane, Lady Jane?
You got me talkin' to the moon, you got me walkin' in the rain.
Do you love me, do you love me Lady Jane?"
She stood between her best childhood friends and tried to explain.
And Jane says, "My children brought me here and promised me they'd call.
You know kids forget that's just the way of it all."
The blue eyes met the green ones, finding a spark that had not existed in just fewer than sixty years, as they both looked into the brown eyes of the woman they had both loved and lost. Harry found his voice first,
And he says, "Well, that makes us both footloose and fancy free,
so Jane do you want to come see the Painted Desert with me?
"Do you love me Lady Jane, Lady Jane?
Do you love me Lady Jane, Lady Jane?
You got me talkin' to the moon, you got me walkin' in the rain.
Do you love me, do you love me Lady Jane?"
She looked from one to the other as they asked her over and over, 'Do you love me Lady Jane?' nodded and found herself wrapped in the safest embrace she had ever known.
The three moved out of the retirement home a few weeks later, into a small one bedroom house on the edge of Ottery St. Catchpaw. At eighty years old, they were not considered retirement age anyway. It was time to live again and meet their children and live the life that they had chosen not to do so long ago.
Six months later found four men and one woman in Arizona watching the most beautiful sunset any could ever remember.