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It seemed that I couldn't move from where Verloren was laying, his body still, eyes finally closed forever. Distantly, I felt the tears coursing down my cheeks, and I wondered at why I was crying; as the tears washed away the blood as they fell to my hands, I wondered where he was now – in his deepest hell, or in some middle ground, waiting to be taken to the next life?
Finally, I stood and dried my bitter tears. The Shrakil had all, for some reason, disappeared when Verloren had died, sweeping away so that I was left quite alone in the park. I threw on Mad-Eye's invisibility cloak once more and walked away, my feet automatically taking me toward my own flat. As they pounded on the ground, I reflected that I did have one last battle to fight. I shook my head wearily. It would have to wait for a little while, until I'd finally had a shower and gotten clean clothes. I smiled at the thought, even though I was so sad. A shower would be unbelievably nice.
I slipped into my flat, immediately yanked off the reeking, ripped clothes that I had suffered in for the past week, and stepped into the shower, savouring in the feel of the nearly scalding water tracing patterns through all the dirt, grime, and blood on my skin. I grabbed a sponge, poured a liberal amount of soap on it, and fell to scrubbing myself clean. It was worse than going to the beach and getting sand in places you didn't even know were there. The dirt wasn't just skin-deep; it penetrated as deep as my heart, and I knew that although some of it would come away with time, it wouldn't all leave. It couldn't.
Next I grabbed a shampoo bottle and upended it, scrubbing my hair with a ferocity that surprised even me. Soon the shower was dripping in the suds from my hair, and I rinsed it, then upended the conditioner bottle, working it through my tangled hair, washing away all the elements that had been sticking to it for days now. Nothing had ever felt better than that shower.
Just as I stepped out and began to wrestle a comb through my hair, there came a knock on my door. "Come in," I called, cinching a robe around me and then continuing to drag the comb through the tangled knots.
For a moment, I looked up into the mirror, and there I saw Draco Malfoy waiting for me, smiling a little. Sighing, and knowing what was coming next, I picked up my one and only brush, walked out of the bathroom, and sat down on the couch next to him. Gently, he touched my shoulders and turned me away from him; he cut my hair, just as he'd done before, snipping away the hopeless ends with his wand, and then, carefully, he dried it with the steam emitting from his wand, which felt almost better than the shower I'd just taken.
"It's over, then?" he asked as he worked the brush through my hair.
I was silent for a second, and then I said, "Yes. It's over." I sighed heavily, and one of his hands rested on my shoulder, massaging it absentmindedly as the other untangled my hair. "Verloren himself decided to make it a personal duel between the two of us a few hours ago, and I didn't have much choice except to fight; I'd been running for over six days, and I was tired. I guess you could say I killed him, but I think he died of something else." I fell quiet for a second, then said, "He could have healed those wounds that I caused, easily."
"He died of a broken heart," Draco suggested, his hand squeezing my shoulder a little tighter.
"He fell in love with Lily," I said softly, "not with me."
I could hear his new smile in his voice when next he spoke. "Ah, eternal doom is upon the man who falls in love with Hermione Granger impersonating a loyal servant."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Look at how far we've come since first year," I said softly. "It was sworn that Slytherin and Gryffindor would remain enemies forever, but look at us. We're friends now, aren't we?"
He was silent for a while, and I thought, fearfully, that maybe he wouldn't reply. "Yes," he said, finally, then turned me to look at him. His grey eyes looked into mine, and he was still smiling. "We're friends. But are we more?"
So here it was. One more battle, one more time. I took a deep breath and, slowly, shook my head.
I saw his smile fall, saw his eyes fill with that sense of betrayal… "No, Draco," I said quickly, as he made to get up, and I pulled him back down, my hand staying on his arm to prevent any further attempts. "I am not the one for you, alright? I am not. There is someone for you out there somewhere, but I am not the one you're looking for."
He stared, hard, into my eyes, and what I saw in his made him different from Verloren: understanding. He nodded then, slowly. "I do love you, Draco," I said, very quietly. "But as a friend, nothing more."
Finally, he smiled, weakly, but with determination flaring in his eyes again, and inwardly I smiled, too, knowing that now, he would be all right. "I knew that the Weasel would always best me in the end."
I had to laugh at his insightfulness. "There was something to all that constant rowing, you know? Something worthwhile."
He nodded, and we both stood. I stepped forward and he infolded me in a strong embrace; I hugged him back, resting my forehead against his chest, the memories taking off through my mind, and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling when a particular one came across it.
"What?" he asked, his arms still enfolded around me.
"Just remembering how great you were as the amazing bouncing ferret," I laughed softly, and then looked up at him. "But I like you like this so much more. You're finally human."
He shook his head, smiling slightly, and kissed my forehead, letting me go. "Looks like we're going to have a lot to tell the Order when we get there."
"Ah, well," I said, sighing. "I'd prefer talking to running. Let me get changed, and we can leave together."
He nodded and settled on the couch to wait, looking toward the door and wondering what lay beyond it for him. According to Hermione, somewhere out there was a woman who would love him, and she was waiting. From his new perspective on life, he could hardly wait to find her.
We stepped into 12 Grimmauld Place together; Draco squeezed my shoulder and then called, "Weasel, guess what I found!" as loud as he could, waking up Sirius's mother and sending her shrieking about halfbreeds and scum and blood traitors. I couldn't help but laugh. Ron raced into the foyer to discover what was going on, and when he saw me, his eyes lit up, and he stopped there, staring.
Without waiting, without planning, without even trying, I ran toward him and threw myself into his arms, hugging him hard as his arms enfolded me in a tight embrace; I lifted my head and then, suddenly, our lips met, and for a moment, everything around us was still, and it was only us that existed as he kissed me back, his hands sliding down my back and stroking my hair, then coming up to cup my face…
When finally we broke apart, my eyes met his and we both smiled. I sensed that people had stopped short behind Ron, in awe of what was happening in front of them, but it could wait; everything could wait. For now, everything was right again. He grinned down at me and said, with no pretence, "I love you, Hermione."
I smiled up at him, tears filling my eyes, and I managed to say, "I love you too, Ron," and then he was kissing me again, deeply, gently bending my body back, and the entire world blurred with only the two of us seen in crystal-clear perspective, each of us only able to see the other, at least for the moment. As everything around me blurred except for his face, I knew that everything was going to be all right. We had each other, and that was all we needed.