A/N: One shot as I was waiting for a train.
Warning: Might be OOC.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione cursed as she stared woefully at the quickly fading train. She wiped the sweat on her brow as she slowly limped to a seat at the station. Heaving, she glanced around her and smiled wearily at the stairs where Ron was still running down.
"So, we missed the train," he panted and wheezed when he finally reached her side. He dropped into the seat beside her and exhaled loudly. "How did you survive so many years on this? We could have just porkeyed..."
Hermione looked at her fiance from the corners of her eyes and sniffed. They had gone through this plenty of times. There was absolutely no way she was going to introduce him formally to her family through the wizardry ways. Her family might be comfortable but Hermione wanted Ron to be immersed in the muggle ways. Did he really think he could apparate whenever he liked when he was having bonding sessions with her father?
"You know what, we'll just wait for the next train," Ron conceded as he rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes, "I just want to make a good impression on them..."
"I know, I know," Hermione sighed as she held Ron's hand. They had met again after five years post war and had dated on and off for the next three years before he finally proposed to her. It did not take her long to accept him. They were not getting younger and their parents had not so subtly hinted on desiring grandchildren. Hermione figured who else but Ron would want to marry her? If not for her friendship ties with him, she doubted he would want to marry an ambitious woman. Which man would? Even her colleagues at the ministry were not exceptionally receptive to the gossips that she would succeed Kingsley Shacklebolt as the next Minister of Magic.
Hermione sighed. Circumstances as they were, she could not ask for a better suitor. If she was honest, Ron was just... convenient and was that not a sad thought? She, who used to be known as one of the brightest witches of her time, was now entering a marriage of convenience when she, once upon a time, could have any wizard. She could already imagine the papers weaving stories of them and for once, they might not be wrong.
Hermione shook her head. There was no need to ponder about the negative press, when she should be happy. She breathed deeply and allowed her eyes to wonder aimlessly at the station. She was not looking specifically at anyone as her gaze shifted easily from one person to the next until a bespectacled face from the platform across from her caught her attention.
"Impossible..." she breathed as she stared at the familiar face. Immediately, she shut her eyes and slapped her cheeks lightly. It had to be a trick of the light or simply her imagination. He could not be alive. She knew for certain that she saw him die. Professor Flitwick had killed him.
Breathing deeply as if to gather her courage, she slowly reopened her eyes. The vision she had hoped to will away was still there. He was real. Her blood thundered in her ears as her eyes stared wildly at him. He was still the same black-haired and grey-eyed majesty. The usual casual jacket and pants that she remembered were replaced by an expensive suit, and instead of his deadly wand in his hand, it was a briefcase in one hand and a luggage in another. He would have blended very well with the crowd if not for his baggage.
Almost as if he had noticed her incessant staring, he turned his head. Hermione sucked a breath as he took off his glasses and stared at the eyes that were once darkly elusive. Her lips trembled as she watched him frown. In her life before the war, she had hardly ever seen him frown, and if he was truly him, was he as surprised as she was? Was he as curious and delighted as she was?
Suddenly, almost violently, he turned his head away and the connection that Hermione felt severed. A strange feeling bubbled in her as she hung her head. She would not cry over a false man. Of course, it could not be him. How could it possibly be him? If it were truly him, he would not have looked at her like a stranger, and the corners of his lips would have curled just a little.
It had taken her a long time to acknowledge that his actions were more than what they were. It was just her luck that she had not recognized them and his genius when he was still alive. It still haunted her that she could have stopped him if she had tried harder. Hermione sniffed. The last time she ever talked to him, she had been vicious and hateful without learning the truth. She had blamed him thoroughly for the disappearance of her parents - when he had simply hidden them away and left her a letter about their whereabouts - and he, the enigma, had smiled so softly that his dimples surfaced.
A soft sob threatened to burst, and Hermione pursed her lips. Perhaps, the reason she wanted him to recognize her was so she could finally get what she needed for the longest time - a closure, a time to tell him she was wrong and for him to tell her what she truly was to him. The thought that she had simply been someone he owed his life to, or worse, a toy for him had crushed her. She had trusted him, convinced herself that she was utterly in love with him until he betrayed it all and willingly stood on the opposite side of the war. He had chosen to be her enemy and stood against everything she championed.
Hermione choked back a sob as she wiped the tears that had trailed her face. Fate, as he had told her, was cruel for intertwining their paths and she believed him - it had to be for bringing this... stranger to her just when a new wind had begun blowing her sails.
Indeed, he is just a stranger. She would never learn if he were who he was or simply a clone. She had confessed her affections to him then, but he had simply shaken his head. He had told her that looks were not so unique and that one day, she would meet someone like him and she would never be able to tell the difference. How was he able to foresee so far into the future? Was this another of his mysterious talents? How strange that eight years after his death, she was still wondering more about him than any other man.
Hermione released a shuddering gasp as the familiar sound of the train echoed in the distance. She looked up at the apathetic face and tried her hardest to smile despite the tears. Let this be the last time that their destinies would cross. She poured all of her heart into the trembling smile and hoped it reached him.
As the trains pulled to the station, Hermione's view of him was completely blocked by the trains. She followed Ron into the train, leaned her head against the back of her seat and closed her eyes. She allowed her tears to stream unabashedly.
"Hermione, care to tell what's up?"
Hermione shook her head as she turned to look at the opposite train from her window. He was not there. Smiling gently, she turned away to look at Ron. "Nothing," she lied gently as she shook her head, "just nervousness."
Goodbye.
As the trains pulled away from each other, the two souls that had met in the most unexpected situation and had evolved together were finally separated. They could go on with their lives peacefully but the memories of their time will never be erased.
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