Epilogue
Not so long ago, I would have been disgusted by my current lot in life. But much has changed in these past few years, least of all my own attitudes.
We left England without a backward glance. I couldn't have done it without him, and I'd like to think the same was true for him, if for completely different reasons.
I am far from completely sane even still, long years after the events by the Shrieking Shack. I will very probably always find myself shrinking from certain touches, even from him, my closest and dearest ally. But he doesn't press me when he senses my recoil. In return, I grant him the same privelage.
He was correct in his original assessment: we are never safe, not completely. We have yet to remain more than six months in the same place. One of us catches a glimpse of something out of the corner of an eye, something familiar from our other life, and we are forced to flee. Luckily, the world is a very large place, full of hidden nooks and crannies.
We are in some backwater in Asia now, our appearances and speech charmed to blend seamlessly in with the local. Of course, no matter how much we try to blend, real locals usually know we aren't from around there. Still, the charms are sufficient for most purposes, and such creative work has always come naturally to me.
I am reading a newspaper in a cafe now, my companion beside me sipping tea. One hand brushes mine, resting over the swell of my belly as he flips through a heavily dog-earred travel guide.
It is not a choice either one of us would have made, had we the concious choice. But resources were extremely slim for several months, and, as they say, here we are. Despite my own (and his, for that matter) more rational moments, we shall not give this last hope up, and I have begun to dream of a brighter future. Late at night when he thinks I am asleep, he whispers to the nascent life within me, telling tales of a world that no longer exists.
We haven't decided whre we will go next, but must make the decision soon, today if possible. Yesterday, I thought I saw a platinum blonde head amongst the sea of black. It was most likely no more than my hormones playing out my darkest fears, but we did not get this far or live this long by taking chances. Personally, I hope our next stop has running water.
I wonder what my mother would think of me now if she were still alive. I'd like to think that she'd be proud of what I've become in spite of my past. I sometimes imagine that she's somewhere up there, smiling down on me and nodding in tacit approval.
As for my dearest friends, I barely can admit that I am happy that they are no longer here. I'm not sure our friendship would have survived this upheaval. I am certain, however, that they could not have lived the way Snape and I have these last years. It wasn't in Harry or Ron to hide, even at the expense of their own lives.
He tried to tell me once, about my erstwhile lover's ultimate demise. I didn't let him finish the tale. I want Ron to remain in my mind as he was the last time I saw him, smiling at me from the doorway with promises of strawberries and christmas pudding.
But that is all in the past now, and I force it behind me where it belongs. I have a different life to live, one that I am reasonably content with, one utterly removed from those tranquil days in Scotland.
But I'd like to think we've found our own tranquility.