Chapter 19: present day, two hours later
Thankful for the cover of darkness, Hermione cautiously stepped from the shadows to advance quickly and quietly to her destination. "Lumos," she muttered and her wand emitted a faint blue light. A cool mist had begun to fall from the sky, but she ignored it as she focused on the stones around her. "He must be here," she told herself as she scanned them frantically. "Bones, Bulstrode, Finnegan, Thomas," she read as she swept her gaze between the rows. And then she stopped. "Weasley," she whispered before crouching to her knees. "Ronald Weasley. Our son and our friend. We will never forget your courage," she read as she teared up.
"Oh, Ron," she sighed with the wind. "Can you ever forgive me?" She wrapped her arms around her to ward off a shiver. "It was my fault you were in the Manor tunnels that night. If I had been stronger, I would have gone alone. If I had been smarter, I would have taken another Auror. Oh, Ron," she said once more. "I never gave you what you deserved. I was never what you believed me to be. I wasn't pure. And I wasn't giving. I was selfish and needy. And I should have been better to you. All those years ago, when I lost myself to…" she broke to wipe at her tears. "You were so good after all of it…picking up the slack in our friendship when Harry died. And you helped me back from the dark place where I tried to hide. I did love you, Ron," she told his headstone firmly. "I would have made a life with you and given you a family one day. It's just…" she stopped as she hung her head in shame. "You knew, didn't you?" she asked the emptiness as if Ron could hear her. "All along, you knew I still had feelings… hope… that he might…and yet, you still wanted to be with me." She reached out her hand to touch Ron's name, engraved in a beautiful script. "I didn't deserve your love, Ron. You were too good for me. And still you loved me anyway." She looked around her then at the dying flowers scattered about his grave. "And look where it got you…where I got you." Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to stop the emotion welling up inside of her. "I'm so sorry, Ron," she cried as dropped her head to her chest, covering her eyes with her hands. "So eternally sorry that it couldn't have been different…that I couldn't have been what you wanted…what you deserved. I'd do anything to give you back your life and happiness…true happiness…even if it meant dying in your place."
"I think he knows that, 'Mione," a deep voice sounded behind her.
With a started cry, Hermione rose and whirled, wand already drawn and pointed at the stranger she faced. "Who are you?" she demanded. "How do you know me?"
"Don't be alarmed," he said gently, trying to soothe the fear from the beautiful woman he knew as a girl. "I won't hurt you."
"Who are you?" she asked again, this time in a softer voice. Although she didn't recognize his face, something about him seemed so familiar…somehow comforting.
Slowly, so as not to startle the anguished woman into doing something foolish, the man raised his right hand in front of him, palm to his face and fingers spread. "Finite Incantatem," he whispered. And with a flick of his wrist, his glamour disappeared.
"Dear God," Hermione gasped as she tried to wrap her mind around what she was seeing. "But how? I don't…" she fumbled as she lowered her wand and shook her head to clear it of this optical illusion. But when the man didn't change again or disappear, she broke into a huge smile and threw herself into his warm embrace. "Harry!"
/-/-/-/
Draco approached the aged figure lying in the oversized iron bed among many pillows and quilts. Even close to death, the man maintained an aura of strength, of wisdom, and of love. For the thousandth time, Draco wondered what his life would have been like if this man had been his father. What choices might he have made? What opportunities might he have been afforded? What friends might he have found and kept close? What love…? Draco dismissed the thought of Hermione from his mind. She was gone. He had failed his headmaster, his friend. And even if someone else could find her again, even if she returned, she would never again see or speak to him. He had lost her forever.
"Draco?" the quiet voice of Albus Dumbledore reached his ears. "Did you find her? Did you speak with Hermione?"
Draco nodded but made no effort to explain. He was ashamed.
"Ah, I see," the wise wizard replied to Draco's gesture. "She didn't believe you then?"
"No, sir," Draco confessed.
"Did you not take the chance to explain, Draco?" the wizard peered over his spectacles at the defeated man in front of him. "Did she not listen?"
"I tried, sir," he began. "She was so angry with me. Just as I knew she would be. I told her I had come at your behest. But she wouldn't believe that you could trust me after... Instead of listening to me, we argued." He turned from Dumbledore then to hide his embarrassment. "She won."
Dumbledore hid a small chuckle behind his covers.
"I told her about my betrayal of her during our sixth year. I explained what Voldemort did to me. But it didn't matter. She couldn't forgive me."
"So you didn't tell her about the last fifteen years, I'm assuming."
Draco shook his head again. "The only information she wanted from me was about the deaths of Ron and Harry." Draco swiped absently at a tear, not noticing the uncomfortable look that passed over Dumbledore's face. "So I told her the truth – what little I knew of parts of it. It was the least I could do for her."
"And still she refused to trust you with my request she return?" Dumbledore felt so sorry for the man he had grown close to over recent years.
Draco colored slightly. "I didn't actually get around to telling her you needed her, sir." Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "But it's worse," Draco admitted before hanging his head. Dumbledore waited patiently for Draco to get up the courage to speak once more. "I ran her off," he whispered, desperately wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore asked.
Draco leveled his gaze upon his mentor to face the music. "I said that I ran her off. I frightened her. I upset her. I confused her. And now she's gone." He shifted his weight from foot to foot before admitting total defeat. "She's gone and it's all my fault…and I have no idea where she is to be found. I'm sorry."
"Never fear, Draco," Dumbledore calmly replied. "I have a feeling your visit may have stirred too many feelings and questions within our dear Hermione to keep her away for long." He smiled at Draco then. "In fact, I shouldn't be surprised if she sought me out herself to get to the bottom of things! Lemon drop?" he asked as he gestured to the chair next to his bed.
"No thank you," Draco replied before settling in for what promised to be a long debriefing.
/-/-/-/
"It's so good to see you again, 'Mione," Harry said as he returned her enthusiastic hug. "Merlin, I have missed you." Together they stood, still against the night, content to reclaim a peace they had so long ago lost. "Not that I thought we'd meet here of all places," he chuckled as he looked about them. "I was actually expecting to see you back at Hogwarts a little later this evening. But here will do. Ron would be glad to know we were all together again for a little while." Hermione pulled abruptly away at his words to look into his face. Her eyes were so full of confusion, pain, and questions that Harry, himself, was thrown into temporary confusion. "Didn't you get Dumbledore's summons?" he asked her quietly.
"Wait," her brow furrowed even deeper. "What?"
"Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore sent him as his emissary with a message for you today. You are needed at Hogwarts." Harry watched as Hermione struggled with the new information. "I just figured you were on your way there."
"You mean Dumbledore really did send Malfoy to me?" Hermione asked in astonishment. At Harry's nod, Hermione turned her back in anger on Harry and stomped to the nearest bench where she sat and promptly covered her face with her hands and moaned. "This can't be real," she said to herself. "Harry isn't here. Harry is dead. There are a million good reasons why I would think I was seeing Harry. Malfoy's visit took me surprise. I haven't eaten all day. I just got done crying for hours over some silly photos. I'm having to run again. I'm overwhelmed at being this close to Ron's grave." Hermione sighed and removed her hands from her face, but kept her eyes closed. "Alright," she continued to herself. "Relax. When you open your eyes, Harry will be gone and you can say goodbye to Ron and then get on with your life."
At that, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes to see Harry standing patiently in front of her. "That does it!" she yelled at the man in front of her. "Either I am completely mental or you are truly here."
"It's really me, Hermione," Harry said as he crouched down in front of her. "You're not mental." He smirked then. "Although in school I used to think that was true from time to time."
"In that case," she narrowed her eyes and adopted her best Mrs. Weasley tone, "Harry James Potter," she admonished him, "you had better explain to me right this minute why you aren't dead, where you have been all of these years, why you never tried to contact me, and why you seem to have nothing better to do at this moment than try to convince me that Draco Malfoy is anything but a deceptive, foul, sneaky, lying, manipulative, loathsome son-of-a…"
"'Mione!" Harry stopped her ranting before gently cupping her face with his hands. "I know you have a million questions. But I don't think I'm the right person to supply you with all of the answers."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry silenced her with a look.
"Do you trust me?" he asked her before smiling the impish smile she remembered from his boyhood.
"You know I do, Harry," she replied, her smile mirroring his own.
"Then come with me," he said. "To Hogwarts." He stood then and extended his hand. "I know that Dumbledore is very anxious to see you."
/-/-/-/
After listening at great length to what had transpired with Hermione, Dumbledore had begun to nod. Begging Draco's pardon for feeling the need to rest, the elder wizard asked Draco to make himself comfortable in the adjoining sitting room. Draco had readily agreed. For some reason he felt better knowing that he was near, just in case he was immediately needed. And so, thirty minutes later, Draco found himself sipping tea as he gazed morosely into the fire in front of him. He was brooding over Hermione again…and too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear the outer door to Dumbledore's bedroom open.
"Albus?" Hermione softly called before fully entering the room. Carefully, she stepped across the threshold to see her former headmaster, paler and more frail than she had ever seen him, tucked into his bed with the covers drawn up nearly to his chin. Silently she crossed to the chair next to his bed and removed her cloak. Pulling the chair closer to the bed, she sat down before gently reaching out to touch his hand. "Albus?" she asked again. And he opened his eyes.
"Hermione," he whispered gladly, the old twinkle back in his eyes. "I knew you would come," he affirmed before covering her hand with his other.
Muffled voices from the bedroom had Draco up from his chair in a flash. Albus hadn't mentioned visitors. Draco knew all danger was passed, but old fears were slow to fade away. And so he drew his wand as he slowly approached the doorway. The site before him had him catching his breath. Hermione, looking like an angel in the low candlelight, smiled as she chatted quietly with the man they had all grown to love and respect. He felt a tug at his heart as he watched her but held his need to move closer to her in check. Just then, the outer door opened once more to allow entrance to a fourth party. And before Draco had a chance to think, he found himself face to face with someone he thought dead for years.
"Hello, Malfoy," Harry said cautiously. "It's been a long time."
"Potter?" Draco asked in astonishment as Hermione whirled from her position to face the men behind her. "How?" was all the thought he could give to forming a sentence.
"Draco?" she asked, not believing he should really be here. What was going on?
The room crackled with silent electricity until a small clearing of the throat turned everyone's focus back to Dumbledore. "Well," he said in an amused voice. "Now that we have all been reacquainted, perhaps it's high time I did a little explaining."