It would be nice to say that Malfoy and I had found Harry, Anna, and Michael. It would also be very nice to say that we are now back at our home and that everyone is safe and happy, including myself.
It would also be nice to say that I am now alive and that I believe Harry and I created our third child last night.
Now, which of these statements are true?
...
Ah, yes, the first one. You all are rather brilliant, you know. In any case, Malfoy and I managed to find them. They were locked in a cell at the bottom of the castle. Which, I must admit, was a shame since we looked up instead. You can never be too sure what the Dark Lord is going to do, so we thought we might be on top of things by doing it that way. What's important is that we found them. Draco and I used our amazing, ghostly powers to destroy Voldemort's minions. I can't say that we killed the Big-Cheese himself, but I CAN say that he'll think twice about messing with MY family.
The second statement could almost be true. Harry, Michael, and Anna are home and safe. They're happy too. Harry's still not quite sure who or what intervened to save his children's lives and his own.
I'm still not alive, which sort of puts a dart in my happiness. But, I am ecstatic that the loves of my life and death are alive.
I still sit out on the porch, as I'm doing right now, contemplating death. Myrtle, of course, had a point: Death is really sucky. To put it bluntly of course.
Draco materializes next to the my grave. He is reading the inscription. He shakes his head, dematerializing. He appears beside me two seconds later.
"Nice headstone," he comments dryly.
"Harry picked it out," I mumble.
He opens his mouth to say something, pausing, then presses on. "Granger, er, Hermione, you deserve better than this."
I look up into his eyes, no longer shallow but deep, full of pain and experience. The choke back tears. "Thank you," I say.
It's not fair for one man to have caused all this pain, this hurt. The fear that he instilled in us. The grief he caused with his cruel way of thought. How was this supposed to improve the world? Where did all this hate in his black heart come from? Was he never loved? I don't know the man that he was when he was a man, but his own existence mut have been unspeakably dreadful for him to feel the need to cause the pain and anguish that plagued the world when he was at the height of power.
I wipe the tears from my ghostly face with transparent fingers. Draco, for once in his life, shows respect and leaves me be. He is no where in sight.
The screen door behind me swings open. It's Harry; I can hear his worn leather shoes that I bought him for his birthday so many years ago. He could never part with them, he told the headstone by the tree.
"Hermione," he breathes.
I wish he wouldn't do this, saying my name like that. There is so much passion and longing in it that I can't remain in the room with him. It breaks my heart and mind.
"Hermione," he says, louder this time, as though calling for me.
My eyes well up once more. I can't stay here with him. I walk towards him to get to the door. The look on his face stops me before I can make it halfway.
His face is red and moist; He's crying. I stand there dumbstruck, staring at him.
"Hermione," he says with finality. "It's you."
My eyebrows rise up my hairline.
He takes a step closer. And another. And another, until he wraps his arms around me and I feel his heavy mortal-frame against my transparent, wispy form. I feel heat radiating from him. His heart pounds with a tremendous force in his chest. Blood circulates around and around in his body. He feels things. He feels me.
And, somehow, I can feel him too.
His hands caress my back. It sends shivers up my spine. A very feeling not felt in years. Love is rushing towards me every time he touches me. I feel his love entering and circulating within my body. I feel alive.
His lips find mine, at last, and I am in seventh-heaven.
I don't need know how he can see me or touch me. How he knows I'm here. I don't need to know what happens next. I am in the arms of my husband, my lover, my best friend.
And that is all I need know.
*********************************************
It would also be nice to say that I am now alive and that I believe Harry and I created our third child last night.
Now, which of these statements are true?
...
Ah, yes, the first one. You all are rather brilliant, you know. In any case, Malfoy and I managed to find them. They were locked in a cell at the bottom of the castle. Which, I must admit, was a shame since we looked up instead. You can never be too sure what the Dark Lord is going to do, so we thought we might be on top of things by doing it that way. What's important is that we found them. Draco and I used our amazing, ghostly powers to destroy Voldemort's minions. I can't say that we killed the Big-Cheese himself, but I CAN say that he'll think twice about messing with MY family.
The second statement could almost be true. Harry, Michael, and Anna are home and safe. They're happy too. Harry's still not quite sure who or what intervened to save his children's lives and his own.
I'm still not alive, which sort of puts a dart in my happiness. But, I am ecstatic that the loves of my life and death are alive.
I still sit out on the porch, as I'm doing right now, contemplating death. Myrtle, of course, had a point: Death is really sucky. To put it bluntly of course.
Draco materializes next to the my grave. He is reading the inscription. He shakes his head, dematerializing. He appears beside me two seconds later.
"Nice headstone," he comments dryly.
"Harry picked it out," I mumble.
He opens his mouth to say something, pausing, then presses on. "Granger, er, Hermione, you deserve better than this."
I look up into his eyes, no longer shallow but deep, full of pain and experience. The choke back tears. "Thank you," I say.
It's not fair for one man to have caused all this pain, this hurt. The fear that he instilled in us. The grief he caused with his cruel way of thought. How was this supposed to improve the world? Where did all this hate in his black heart come from? Was he never loved? I don't know the man that he was when he was a man, but his own existence mut have been unspeakably dreadful for him to feel the need to cause the pain and anguish that plagued the world when he was at the height of power.
I wipe the tears from my ghostly face with transparent fingers. Draco, for once in his life, shows respect and leaves me be. He is no where in sight.
The screen door behind me swings open. It's Harry; I can hear his worn leather shoes that I bought him for his birthday so many years ago. He could never part with them, he told the headstone by the tree.
"Hermione," he breathes.
I wish he wouldn't do this, saying my name like that. There is so much passion and longing in it that I can't remain in the room with him. It breaks my heart and mind.
"Hermione," he says, louder this time, as though calling for me.
My eyes well up once more. I can't stay here with him. I walk towards him to get to the door. The look on his face stops me before I can make it halfway.
His face is red and moist; He's crying. I stand there dumbstruck, staring at him.
"Hermione," he says with finality. "It's you."
My eyebrows rise up my hairline.
He takes a step closer. And another. And another, until he wraps his arms around me and I feel his heavy mortal-frame against my transparent, wispy form. I feel heat radiating from him. His heart pounds with a tremendous force in his chest. Blood circulates around and around in his body. He feels things. He feels me.
And, somehow, I can feel him too.
His hands caress my back. It sends shivers up my spine. A very feeling not felt in years. Love is rushing towards me every time he touches me. I feel his love entering and circulating within my body. I feel alive.
His lips find mine, at last, and I am in seventh-heaven.
I don't need know how he can see me or touch me. How he knows I'm here. I don't need to know what happens next. I am in the arms of my husband, my lover, my best friend.
And that is all I need know.
*********************************************