Epilogue
February 4, 1999
Hermione Granger stared straight ahead, her eyes focused and unblinking. The courtroom was still and silent in a rare moment of anticipation.
The Carrows' verdict was about to be read.
The details of it hardly mattered. Their advocate – an older woman named Lisandrea Tuffs – was appointed by the Wizengamot, as was the law when one was neither hired by the client nor volunteered to take the case pro bono. Tuffs put up a good fight, but it was all for show. The Carrows' crimes were indefensible, and when she turned away from the Wizengamot and let her eyes pass over the attendees, Hermione could see the truth. She was doing her job just well enough to negate any appeals the Carrows might make for a mistrial.
The Chief Warlock began to speak, and Draco laced his fingers through her own.
He had hardly left her side for two weeks. After Hermione had banished her demons, Draco ventured into the vault and augmented the Estate's wards. Harry and Ron arrived mere minutes later and began setting their trap for the Carrows. Hermione did not stay long enough to see it work and, after hearing Ron's description of the events, was glad to have missed it. She had had her share of excitement for the day.
After having their wounds tended at St. Mungo's, she and Draco were escorted to the Ministry and debriefed by Robards. The sun had set long before they were allowed to leave. Draco escorted her home and, as he stood outside her door, bidding her goodnight, she knew she didn't want him to leave.
But she had hesitated for too long. He left, and she felt his absence like a chill she could not shake. Early the next morning, she invited him for breakfast. He accepted.
They soon fell into a routine. Draco moved back to the empty desk beside her at work, and went home with her at the end of each day for dinner, wine, and whatever might follow. They toured Malfoy Manor's frost-covered gardens, met Narcissa for dinner, joined Harry and Ginny for lunch, and set up a double-date with Ron and Pansy.
For the first time in years, Hermione felt like an active participant in her own life, ready to resume an existence she had nearly dismissed as broken beyond repair. She had a future again, and she was excited for what it held.
She returned Draco's tender smile, blushing and looking away when his gaze became too meaningful to bear.
Her eyes settled on the obscenity etched into her skin and traced over its form. The letters were jagged and uneven, but more than clear enough to read. She would never be entirely comfortable with its existence, but it was no longer something she needed to hide. Her scars did not define her; they helped create her, and she was proud of who she was. She was more than the slur across her skin.
Hermione raised her eyes and was not surprised to find Draco still staring at her. She squeezed his hand.
They were both more than their scars.
The End