CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The caged bird sings of freedom
EPILOGUE
A cold wind howled across a deserted patch of land, covered in a thick blanket of the first snow of the winter. There was very little change in the seemingly desolate scenery, save for a small cemetery and a witch in black robes trucking her way across the area through the snow. Her curly brown hair had been pulled up into a haphazard ponytail and several stray strands blew wildly around her face as the winds raced through the air. She gripped the hood of her robes as it blew backwards off of her head, pulling it down farther over her face. Careful steps hinted that she might have been to this place more than once. She reached the rusted, snow covered wrought iron gate that hung crookedly on its hinges and pulled it open, the rusted metal screeched quietly. The witch milled up and down and in between rows and rows of head stones, pausing occasionally here and there to wipe the snow of the tops of the rounded grave markers and smiled down sadly at the names on them and the dates.
Some dates told her that the occupants were very young.
Others were very old.
After a little while of her aimless meandering between the rows, she finally came upon three fairly new head stones, their white marble barely marred by years of exposure to the elements like some of the others were, the names stood out clearly in black and from left to right the first two read:
Lucius Malfoy
January 8th, 1945 – February 16th, 1998
Narcissa Malfoy
August 26th, 1955 – February 16th, 1998
Finally, she came to the third and final headstone and kneeled down in front of it. Pushing her hood back, Hermione Granger pulled out a rolled up bit of parchment that had been tied with a purple ribbon. Her once bright brown eyes were distant with sorry as she gazed at the head stone before her. Reaching forward, she traced the words with a gloved finger and wiped away a stray tear that made its way down her face. Rocking back on the ball of her feet, she sat there in silence for a little while, just staring at the head stone, unable to do or say anything. Finally, she sighed sadly and rolled open the piece of parchment and began to read to the tombstone what she had written, her voice was slightly distant and reminiscent, carried by the wind that whipped around her,
"Dear Draco,
A lot has happened to me and in the wizarding world since your death. I have spent the last four months writing this letter to you with intentions to come visit your grave. I know that I haven't even come back since the end of the war, but for some reason I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I suppose you're wondering why I came and gave you a quick burial then left. I wanted to stay and just sleep on your grave forever, but Ron and Harry unfortunately wouldn't let me do it. I'm sure you were standing there with me when we burned down your house as well –I know I could feel you, and I know that you were slightly disapproving of it, but really what would the point of keeping it up have been? The entry way had been trashed and your house elves it seemed had vacated and left for masters that were alive. It was just an empty shell of the memories I made in there with you, and a painful reminder of what once was and could have been. Yes, I agree, Ron did seem to have a bit too much fun in the burning of the manor, but I can assure you that I did it with the heaviest heart I have ever had.
If I could even explain how much it hurt the first couple months to even think of you, I would. But I can't exactly find the words to describe the hollow feeling that yawned in my stomach and heart like a hungry dragon, eating up everything that was once a happy feeling. Your death was my personal dementor and it seemed that even the defeat of Voldemort a few short weeks after your death wasn't enough to completely brighten my spirits. Yes, I am most certainly glad that he is gone and no longer terrorizing the wizarding world, but I feel that things would have been better with you there. Hah, I laughed even writing that, and I know that you would laugh at me too; you'd be telling me that I was so silly to even be bothered by such a trivial emotion.
To be honest, I wanted to sulk for the rest of my life; I wanted to shut out the world and everyone that was trying to help me cope. And for a while, it seemed like I wasn't going to even snap out of it. That is, until I discovered I was pregnant. Believe me, I was just as shocked as you would have been –but in a way I used the surprise to give myself an excuse to believe that you weren't entirely gone. Yes, I was eighteen and probably too young to care for a child –but I figured if I could defeat dark wizards and liberate the oppressed wizarding world, I could probably raise a child on my own. Granted, Ron had other ideas. At first, he was less than pleased that I was pregnant with your child (we're married now, just so you know), but I think in the end he realized just how happy the prospect of having just a piece of you still left in my life made me and pretty much let it be.
In case you're wondering, I found my parents in Australia and restored their memories and filled them in on everything that had happened again. It felt so good to finally have two people in my life that I knew would accept me for what I was, and always had and would never stop loving me regardless of how I felt. My parents were a little surprised by the news of the coming baby, but came to terms with it a little more quickly than Ron and Harry had, which I was thankful for. I don't think I could have taken another lecture about being safe and how I had been foolish. Honestly, I just don't think that Harry and Ron still understand why I felt the way about you that I did, but I figure in time they will.
Our little girl was born in October 17, 1998.
You know how some parents want a boy or a girl? I honestly didn't give a shit if I gave birth to a troll, I'd still love it because she was something that we made –accidentally albeit, but I believe she was given to me as a coping mechanism. I figured I'd keep the Malfoy tradition of naming their children after constellations and named her Lyris. Her full name is Lyris Andromeda Granger – I didn't dare make her last name 'Weasely' or 'Malfoy' because for some reason I figured you'd come out of your grave and throw things at me if I did.
Your daughter is eight years old now and I must admit, she looks a lot more like you than she does me, what with the pretty long blond hair that hardly has a curl in sight, and sometimes when she's mad at me over minor things and is staring me down, I can swear I can see your eyes glaring at me through hers. Yes, she knows that you're her dad. In three years she'll be starting at Hogwarts, and let me tell you –she is extremely excited to attend.
And I'm certain that you're probably extremely concerned that I'm raising our daughter in a Weasely household, but I assure you that Ron loves her just as much as he does our other kids. To be honest, I think that to this day he's still extremely guilty for what he did. And now that I think about it, I'm not exactly mad at him anymore. I understand that he didn't mean to do it and it'd simply been the moment,"
Hermione stopped for a moment to shift the position she'd been crouching in and rested her screaming thighs by sitting cross-legged on the ground, hardly paying attention to the fact that the cold had numbed all of her extremities and her nose was a bright cherry red. Rustling the parchment a little, she looked back and found where she'd left off and cleared her throat and spoke now with a little more dignity in her voice,
"He's even apologized a few times for what he did. Though, there are some days where I get inexplicably mad at him, mostly when I spend too much time thinking about you. Deep down, of course, I accept now that it was an accident. Some days, though, I just wish that I had more time with you. Often times, I go back and read over the books that you'd given me to read through in the first few weeks of my imprisonment. I've come to find that my favorite work is a poem called I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou. I first read that poem one afternoon in my room-prison, and I'd first not exactly understood what the poem meant, that or I wasn't exactly focused on it. But every time I go back and read it, I find myself agreeing more and more with what she wrote about. She spoke of how those who are free and carless think of little more than their day-to-day tasks, while someone who is imprisoned and trapped can think of nothing more than their inevitable freedom. I also know that you were trapped as well (and I know you'd disagree to that as well, but you were!), you were a prisoner to your family and your conscience. All you wanted was to be free of the oppression, you wanted to be your own person, and you had been given the chance to finally develop and you collapsed inward on yourself. Yet, it pains me to think about it because I could see that I was getting through to you and you were slowly coming around and coming to terms with what had happened and who you were.
Thanks to you, I know why the caged bird sings; the caged bird sings of freedom.
Love,
Hermione.
P.S. This is the only time I've given myself to come visit you, and I feel now that I've tied up loose ends –but there's no need for me to continually drag you down in your afterlife (wherever you are) with constant, boring and useless updates from me. I hope that you heard me, and I just want you to know that no matter what and regardless of who I'm married to, I still love you."
With that, she stood up and brushed the snow off of her knees and looked down sadly at the grave. Taking a deep breath she let go of the long piece of parchment and watched as it was taken and dragged away by the winter wind. Pulling her cloak around her tightly, she blinked away the tears that threatened to fall once more and quickly disapparated with a quiet 'pop!'. To anyone that had not seen her come or go would never know that she was there, like how the rest of the world would hardly know of the happiness she'd been given and all the things she'd learned about life and love from someone whom she'd once considered to be a great enemy.
War does funny things to people, and Hermione Granger had not been exempt from such torment.
A/N: I would like to start off by saying that all the characters in this fan fiction are obviously not mine, they belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. The story's title and chapter titles were taken directly from Maya Angelou's poem I know why the caged bird sings. Next, I would like to thank everyone who took the time to review this story, so thank you to the following people: harrys-girl-4-life, irockursocksoff, zelda4ever, 8869fanread, Lyenuv, Very Halogen, , Saunwolfgirl (I hope that you have decided to start reading the Harry Potter books, as they're a fantastic series!), whitestripes123 (you truly took the time to at least comment on every chapter that came out, and I could always count on you to have something good to say, and you certainly put a smile on my face!), EmoPrincess21, NinjaClairnetGirlBianca, and aringle42 (you've always had nice things to say too, and I am so sorry that Draco was driving you up the wall, haha; but it was kind of how I imagined him, but as you can see, even though he died, he kinda wizened up in the end, right? It's the thought that counts? ...RIGHT? Lol, you were also a joy to get reviews from, thank you so much for your time!). Seriously, I can't thank you guys enough. I might not have 500+ reviews, but you guys sure do make me feel loved! THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH FOR READING THROUGH ALL OF THIS, I HONESTLY DON'T THINK I WOULD HAVE FINISHED THIS STORY IF I DIDN'T HAVE PEOPLE TO LOOK FORWARD TO COMMENTING ON EACH CHAPTER OR EVEN TO SEE PEOPLE FAVORITING MY STORY OR ADDING IT TO THEIR WATCH LIST, HNNGGGHH. Not to mention I obsessively watch the amount of hits my stories get...SO THAT'S ALWAYS EXCITING. Oh, and I guess I should thank my friend Maraiah (aka Courvoisier), whose screen name I have NOT FIGURED OUT HOW TO PRONOUNCE OMG, for dealing with me flailing and complaining about writing and for letting me ramble off ideas to her...and while she hasn't gone through and reviewed every chapter like she said she was going to, I still love her. I have to...we're married...on facebook. AND I SUPPOSE WHILE I'M HERE I'LL TELL YOU TO CHECK OUT HER BITCHIN' NEW STORY MONTHS, it's a Dramione fanfic, broskis. And I pretty much taught her how to write, so if you wanna good read while I work on my next story (which is already in the works, LOLOLOL), CHECK HER OUT. Again, I can't thank you all enough. LOTS OF LOVE TO YOU GUYS. LOTS. OF. LOVE.