A/N: So I realized yesterday that I first started this fic on April 11, 2017 (at the time of writing this chapter, that would be three years ago). And I might be a few days late, but I find it poetic that I'm finishing it around the same time.

At the time, I was just finishing my first year of university. Since then, I've made a bunch of new friends, joined a D&D group, got a boyfriend, and a whole ton of other things I didn't have before I started. And with the global situation being what it is currently (it's April 13, 2020, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic), things are exceptionally different from how they were before. That's a lot to put into perspective.

I'll be honest, I wasn't sure I would ever finish this fic. It started as a pet project mostly, something to do that would allow me relax from school. Then school got tougher, I lost motivation, and I sort of put it by the wayside. Even with how the world is right now, I'm glad that I can finally finish this at least (then return to focusing on my exams). I'm not sure what I'll work on next – my Evan Rosier/OC story is on the list probably, though I might re-write the whole thing until I'm satisfied. Who knows? My writing style has, I hope, improved since I first started so returning to it might be a huge hurdle.

Thanks so much for sticking with this story! And in the meantime, stay safe everyone! Things will get better.

Epilogue: Five Years Later

The sky was blocked by dark grey clouds, threatening rain. A cold chill was present in the air around them, piercing through their coats. The barren, moss-covered manor loomed over them, casting a shadow that encompassed the entirety of the grounds. The windows were dark and clouded with dust. The gardens had withered and weeds had sprung up without proper care – not to say that there had been much of a garden to begin with (his father wasn't one for flowers or greenhouses; when his mother died, what was left of the garden died too).

Theodore clutched her hand in his own; he should probably apologize for the loss of feeling in her fingers that she was no doubt suffering, but he couldn't quite say the words. His throat was dry and a sense of dread filled him as he stared at the oppressive sight before them. But then she squeezed his hand. The feeling dissipated when she smiled at him. He smiled back.

Silently, he thanked her.

Without her there, he would have likely bolted, would have likely avoided ever returning to this place (she keeps him grounded, has kept him grounded for years, even when they weren't together, even when they had been no more than acquaintances, even when they had been on opposing sides during the war).

It's been approximately five years since he last saw this place; Hermione hadn't pushed for him to visit before he was ready, and for that, he was thankful. Even so, it dogged him everywhere he went, tugging at the part of his subconscious that wanted closure to the early years of his life.

And now.

And now, he finally mustered up the courage to close that chapter, to put the finishing touches on that book, and to put that book back on the shelf where it belonged.

He won't forget it, but he will move past it.

He likely wouldn't have been able to do it without her.

Despite everything, she stood by his side. Through the good days and the bad, she never left, always a shoulder for him to lean on whenever he needed one (even though, at the time, they were just friends, she was always there, unfaltering; it made him love her even more). Daphne and the others, they did what they could, but the war had broken them all in some way, and even before, they never hugged, never comforted (it was a sign of weakness, and as the pureblood elite, they must never show weakness, that's what his father always said).

With Hermione, he could be weak. Truly, utterly weak. And she still cared for him, still helped him.

One year after graduating from Hogwarts, Hermione finally admitted that she was ready to move on from Ron, who despite how they fell out, was still one of her closest friends. Elated and confused, Theodore admitted that he wasn't sure what to do. Hermione, and he thanks whatever being brought her into his life, smiled and suggested a date.

They had been dating ever since.

It was only within the past year that they started living together in an apartment Theodore bought just after he graduated. They found it easy, moving around each other and taking life day by day. It was like she had always been a permanent fixture from the beginning – her books on the kitchen counter, her clothes folded in the drawers, her toothbrush next to his own in the bathroom (and her bloody cat, which he tripped over more times than he could count; Crookshanks, despite this, seemed to have a fond tolerance of him).

The place was close enough to the muggle entrance of the Ministry, where she worked, but far enough that Theodore could walk two to three blocks without encountering someone with a grudge against the Death Eaters or their children – despite it having been five years since Voldemort (and was Hermione ever so proud that he could finally say the name, not that he didn't still fear it) was defeated, people remained ever vigilant.

In addition, their fireplace had a direct connection to Hogwarts, where Theodore managed to get a job at as the new assistant librarian. Headmistress McGonagall had been somewhat reluctant about having the son of a known (and deceased) Death Eater working amongst children, but acquiesced after receiving positive accounts about him from Hermione, Harry Potter (to Theodore's surprise, as he can easily recount the number of times they had spoken on one hand), and the librarian, Madam Pince (a glowing account, or so he had been told; Theodore never got over the fact that the woman was there watching the burning wreckage that was his pining for Hermione and bless her soul, she never brought it up).

Despite all the good, there were plenty of things that made life difficult for the two of them.

Because of the war, the people of wizarding Britain remained cautious about those who had been followers or were relatives of followers to the deceased dark lord. Theodore couldn't go around without people staring or watching him with suspicion – it certainly made getting potion ingredients, books, and other magical items difficult. As a result, he spent most of his time at Hogwarts, hidden amongst the shelves of the library and sorting books; whenever Hermione had free time, she would join him, but those moments were few and far in between with how busy her work kept her (he kept telling her that she should take a break, but she wouldn't listen. He might need to get Potter and Weasley involved).

While at Hogwarts, some of the students avoided him if they saw him in the halls or in the library, whispering to their friends about the Death Eater's son. Others were curious – it wasn't uncommon for some to approach him, asking if the rumors were true. Then there were the scant few who stopped him in the halls and talked with him (or rather to him) enthusiastically for hours at a time, much to his confusion – Hermione thought they liked him. Even years after rebuilding some semblance of confidence in himself, Theodore still doubted, still wondered what he was worth, whether he was even worth anything at all; the students' varying reactions to his employment played with these feelings further, messing with him as he tried to discern the truth.

Even more damning was how the public reacted when Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's best friend and war heroine, began dating the son of a Death Eater (and not just any Death Eater, but the son of Theodore Nott Sr., said to have been one of Voldemort's most vicious followers, and was rumored to have been a member of his inner circle). Newspaper articles, gossip magazines, and other such rags had given their perspective on the couple: was it willing? Was it the work of the Imperious? Or was the brains of the Golden Trio going dark? It resulted in Theodore trying (on more than one occasion) to break up with Hermione, if only so that her reputation wouldn't be tarnished by her association with him.

She wouldn't have any of his excuses.

He's glad that she hadn't listened to him.

As they entered the decaying Nott family manor hand-in-hand, Theodore reached into the pocket of his coat, fingers brushing the small velvet box within, and he concluded that today would be the day. But not in this drafty old place – the scenery left much to be desired.

They planned on going out for dinner that night – he would ask her then.

…

THE END

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