This is not the song that I use in this story, so feel free to listen to that ("Magic Works" from GOF), but I have a recommended listening for you while you read this: "Waking Up" by OneRepublic. If you don't want to hear the whole thing, skip ahead to 3:15 when you see "Hermione was the last one." It's very specific, but that song is literally how I came up with the ending.

28 September 2083—Song (HarrietB, tomgirl1219, banzi)

Neither Ron nor Hermione ever felt that they had "a song" that was special just to them as a couple. While each of them felt things deeply, and they had their moments, certainly, they were not overly sentimental or romantic as a couple. They loved each other, and they showed that love in any simple way they could. That was more than enough for them, for almost eighty years of their relationship.

Late one night, the same day that they had all laid Harry to rest beside Ginny, Hermione sat alone in hers and Ron's bedroom. Rose, Scorpius, Hugo, and Amanda were downstairs with her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but Hermione didn't have the energy to mourn her best friends with anyone except herself. She had told them she was going to bed, kissed them all goodnight, and gone up by herself.

Hermione now sat in Molly's old rocking chair by the window, legs crossed and chin resting on her hand, and she began to hum to herself as she watched the rain drip down the windowpane. She had forgotten the words to the song a long, long time ago. Ron might have had a recording of it at one time—it was long gone, she had no idea where it could be. She smiled to herself. Ron had once told her she wouldn't be old until she started forgetting where he kept things safe, and then they were all doomed, because they'd never get into their bank vault again.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, feeling tears form. It had been a hard day, not that she hadn't become accustomed to saying goodbye to the people she loved, at her age. And to be honest, she hadn't imagined that Harry and Ginny would allow something as simple as death to separate them for long. She leaned back in her chair and relaxed, allowing her mind to wander as she hummed the song a little more loudly.

A flash of memory returned to her. The first time she had heard the song…she and Ron had danced to this song at—whose? One of the brothers—Bill's wedding. That's right. That's right, Ron had tried to twirl her and somehow had ended up on the floor. He had blushed scarlet, but she had helped him up, and they finished the dance. Dear Bill and Fleur, both long gone, but so very much in love, right to the end. Goodness, that dance had been before Hermione had even known she loved Ron.

You know you've waited long enough.

And then their lives had been interrupted—they had to wait, once again. That time of the Second War…it almost felt like another life. Before she'd ever been a mother, or a wife, or had a gray hair to speak of.

Another flash. She'd been wrong—the very first time Hermione had heard this song was when she was only fifteen years old, dancing at the Yule Ball with that wonderfully sweet, if rather gruff boy from Durmstrang. Viktor, wasn't it? Yes, Viktor Krum. She wondered what had become of him, and hoped that his life had been as happy as hers.

Believe that magic works.

Yes, magic had worked for her then. How else would a plain little girl like her have found a boy like Viktor? It was just like Cinderella.

Then, Hermione realized with a jolt, the song had also played at their wedding. That was right. She remembered thinking that it was perfect, for it said everything that she and Ron felt for one another.

Don't let this magic die.

More memories returned to Hermione. She'd never noticed how often she thought of this song, every day she saw the people she loved and cared about. She had never noticed that in the fever of the Great Battle, she'd been playing it in her head. It was the rhythm of everything she did that night, and when she finally—finally—kissed Ron, it hit its crescendo.

Don't be afraid of being hurt.

Hermione gave a soft cry of mingled understanding, happiness, and unbearable sorrow, clasping one hand over her mouth as fresh tears poured down her cheeks.

She remembered a too-bright morning, just a few years ago—though it could have been a thousand—lacing her hand into Ron's one final time, and feeling his wonderful warmth that had protected her for so long, leave her forever.

Dance your final dance.
This is your final chance to hold the one you love.

Hermione was the last one. Her beloved brothers and sisters were all gone, interspersed throughout the years. Then came Ron's goodbye. Then Ginny. And then Harry.

Hermione's eyes opened again, and she watched the rain slide down the window, wiping her face gently. Gazing at the glass was like seeing it from very far away, fuzzily—she didn't remember removing her spectacles. She rubbed her eyes and suddenly looked down at her hands in surprise. They weren't the same age-spotted, careworn, rather thin and shaky hands she had become used to seeing.

They were restored, slender and lovely. Her wedding ring was comfortably snug around her finger. Hermione felt more tears fill her eyes, when suddenly two wide, gentle hands covered hers. She looked up into Ron's wonderful, youthful face, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Hermione!" Ginny cried from behind Ron, waving wildly at her. She can see again, thought Hermione. Oh, thank goodness. Ginny was beautiful, seventeen years old again, and she hung from a beaming, wonderfully handsome Harry's arms. It was then that Hermione realized that she was no longer in her dark little bedroom, and she too was years younger, her hair long, brown, and tangled as ever, her eyes clear. She gazed around. They—they were all on the lawn at Hogwarts.

The castle stood pristine and beautiful in the light of the early afternoon sun, its windows sparkling like diamonds. There was a great white tent standing on the bank of the lake, where dozens of people laughed and sang and danced together. That same old song was playing softly, and Hermione smiled. She looked back at Ron, and he nodded encouragingly at her. Hermione stood, feeling steadier and stronger than she had in many years, and took a deep breath of the fresh spring breeze that rolled across the lake.

Hermione locked fingers with Ron and looked over at all the people who seemed to have gathered to welcome her. There were Neville and Hannah, and their sweet daughter, Cat, with her small son. They looked overjoyed to see Cat again. Ernie and Susan lay in the grass with Colin Creevey.

Fred, darling Fred, stood with Molly and Arthur, and all of his brothers and sisters-in-law. Hermione's parents were arm-in-arm beside Molly and Arthur. Harry's parents, unmistakable, even though Hermione had never met them, laughed with Sirius, Remus, and Tonks all gathered around them.

An unscarred Alastor Moody stood near Albus Dumbledore, who had his arms around his beloved, beautiful sister and his handsome, laughing brother. Minerva, who was younger than Hermione had ever seen her, was sitting in the grass near them with her beloved Caradoc at long, long last.

Hermione smiled and looked at Ron, still holding his hands.

"I've missed you," she said softly.

Ron kissed her forehead. "It's been one hell of a wait for me, too. You were reading something, right? Just had to finish the chapter." He shook his head in mock annoyance, then pulled her closer into his arms.

Hermione laughed, and they kissed deeply, as if for the first time. The song played on.

You must be brave, don't let this moment slip away
Believe that magic works. Don't be afraid of being hurt.
No, don't let this magic die. The answer's there,

Just look in her eyes.

Song by Jason Buckle. The story's a mingling of prompts and suggestions from HarrietB, tomgirl1219, and banzi. Thank you.