~*~ Epilogue ~*~
"You don't have to come."
Hermione twisted to look over her shoulder at Draco. He paused, expression inscrutable as he brushed platinum bangs out of his face. "I won't if you don't want me to. I know this is…"
She swallowed, turning back to survey the array of marble headstones spread before them. Autumn had dusted the ground with fiery leaves that crackled under their feet and made the tombstones seem to float above a rich sea of flame. The jagged cut of the Alps jutted into the cloudy sky beyond, the foamy mass nearly the same tone as Draco's eyes. The sight filled her with a foreign nostalgia, borne of the memories that often soaked through.
It had taken years. Years that saw joy fracture the nebulous sorrow those memories held. Years that saw her become a wife and then a mother. Years to wrestle with the volatile truths that were not her own to bear. Years to decide to search for and find this graveyard. Years to prepare for this moment.
"I want you with me."
Her husband nodded, his fingers lacing easily with hers, the movement as natural as breathing. "Whatever you need from me."
"Thank you," she murmured as she took one step and then another. The leaves rustled as they walked, the only sound beyond the building drum of her heart against her chest.
She let her feet lead them—a sense she could not explain, an echo of a connection that had not been her own, guiding the way. The weathered stone lay beneath a yew tree, dirt and grime coating the marble so thickly it appeared an extension of the earth below. Hermione dropped to her knees, Draco's hand slipping to rest firmly upon the curve of her shoulder. With a shaking hand she reached out, her bare fingers brushing across the caked soil, tentative at first and then with more certainty until the coating fell away and the etched marble beneath was revealed. Her breath was uneven, her pulse an erratic tattoo as she traced the letters.
Tom Marvolo Riddle
She had imagined this moment a thousand times by now. Had planned every word she would say and yet, now her throat was closed and her lungs buried under a pressure that did not come from the thin air above the mountainside. She closed her eyes, letting all that had come before wash over her.
In the months after the foreign memories had been forced upon them, she had retreated, taking a leave of absence from the Department of Mysteries, refusing to see anyone but Draco. Harry had sat on the floor outside her flat day after day, simply talking to her through the sealed door. She'd listened to every word, but had been unable to form a single syllable in response.
It was as if the trauma the other girl had endured was now her own, etched into her marrow with blood and tears. Hermione had felt every loss the girl had endured, every torment and every deception so keenly she ached, the mental anguish manifesting in physical pain. It had been too much to process, too much to compartmentalize away even if it had not been her own.
Draco hadn't left her side. Had effectively moved in with her in that tiny one bedroom flat, dropping his work without a second thought. They'd cried more nights than not, the pain a visceral thing that ate away at them even in the oblivion of slumber.
It had felt like an abyss with no escape, an end to the life she'd barely lived. But Draco hadn't allowed her to wallow forever. He'd opened the door to Harry and forced Hermione into her best friend's arms. He'd told their story in faltering words until Harry knew what had nearly come to pass, until he was crying alongside them. Then Draco had dragged her to the Ministry, guided her through the paperwork to terminate her leave of absence and deposited her on the appropriate lift with Luna in tow.
She'd slowly begun to move through the motions, at first simply to do something, and then because her cases were interesting. The dreams had started coming less frequently, the foreign torments more memory than harsh reality until one day she woke and felt like Hermione Granger, Ravenclaw, Hogwarts Head Girl and most valuable member of the Department of Mysteries instead of a ravaged war veteran manipulated into a marriage with a boy who made her soul sing and shrivel in equal measure.
Hermione had started living again, going out with coworkers and friends, smiling so much her cheeks hurt, but Draco hadn't moved out. They were united now, inseparable by even the depths of time and space.
One late afternoon as snow fell in heavy blankets over the London streets Harry had commented, "So you and Draco are for real, aren't you?"
She'd shifted in her chair to face him, her feet dangling over one of the voluptuous arms. "You heard the story."
"Well, yeah," he'd replied, lips twisting in the shadow of a wince. She hadn't begrudged him the reaction; the story wasn't pretty. "But just because those things happened in some alternate time stream doesn't mean that you'd feel the same way about him. I mean you're not attached to Tom Riddle anymore."
She'd swallowed heavily, not quite able to meet Harry's luminous emerald eyes. The disturbing truth was that she wasn't unattached to Tom Riddle either. While the pain the other girl had felt, the shadow of love that had laid the foundation for the bond between her and the boy who had broken them both, were not her own, she could feel the echo of the emotions in her soul. Draco had kept the time turner he'd found in his pocket; she'd kept her wedding ring.
"That life is more than just a memory to us."
Harry had blinked, concern distorting his gentle features. "I thought you were moving on."
Hermione's smile had been bittersweet. "I am, Harry. I know this is my life and that none of that happened to me. None of that pain is mine to bear, but that doesn't mean it isn't a part of me. That doesn't mean I'm not in love with Draco."
"In love?" Harry had parroted, eyes wide.
She'd laughed, the sound gentle and full of unfettered joy. "Not all of it was terrible. What she found with Draco, it's something both of us still feel. We might not have felt this way without those memories, but neither of us is changing our mind."
He'd scrubbed a hand through his wild hair, especially unkempt since he'd just come from Quidditch practice. "I didn't realize it was so serious."
"We've been living together for nearly six months, Harry."
"I know," he'd sighed. "I know. It's just after Astoria died, I wasn't sure Draco was going to make it. Her death really did a number on him and he refused to share the pain with any of us. I'm lucky I got him to talk to me, to come out of his shell. I just don't want to see him moving on too quickly, especially with you. You two were never all that close."
Hermione hadn't known whether to be offended or amused by his protective attitude toward Draco. "Astoria died years ago, Harry. And I'm not taking advantage of him. We went through something together. Not just what happened in the memories, but also in dealing with them. There's a connection we share that is deeper than anything I ever imagined. We understand each other so well; we're closer than I thought it possible for two people to be. So you're going to have to deal with us."
He'd cracked a crooked smile, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, Hermione. I just worry about him. About both of you."
She'd let out an amused huff and turned back to the book in her hands. "I appreciate that, Mr. Potter, but we are both adults and can manage just fine."
They'd moved into a bigger flat the next spring and then into a small country estate in the fall. By the Ministry Yule Ball, there was a very impressive ring on her finger and a wedding to plan.
Hermione had worn green to the occasion—a severe aversion to red dresses permanently etched into her psyche. Draco had been resplendent in well-tailored dress robes, his hair shorn to just beneath his chin, giving him a roguish edge she'd always found irresistible. His eyes had gleamed pure silver as they'd rounded the dance floor together, the steps of the waltz coming as easily to them now as they had in shared memory.
The sense of déjà vu had become extreme when Dumbledore had halted them, gesturing for both to follow him to the edge of the grand ballroom. Her breath had caught unsteadily in her throat, but Draco's assuring grip on her waist had kept most of the rising anxiety at bay.
Dumbledore's eyes had sparkled over his half-moon glasses as he'd stared at each of them in turn. "I hear congratulations are in order."
"Yes, Professor," she'd replied, unease still fluttering beneath her skin. "Thank you."
"I sincerely hope these nuptials are more successful than you last."
Hermione had blanched while Draco went rigid at her side. His voice had been pure ice, an echo of the boy she'd never known, when he'd spoken. "Excuse me, Professor?"
"So you do remember," Dumbledore had murmured, gaze flittering between them. "You must understand, I lived those months at Hogwarts all those years ago. I had begun to suspect that perhaps you had not. In all the years you were in school, neither of you showed any sign of knowing what had come to pass in 1943 and 1944."
Hermione hadn't known what to say. Hadn't felt the truth of the memories so sharply in months. Her voice had been a breathless whisper as she'd sputtered, "It was real?"
"Very real. For a long time, I wondered what had become of Tom and both of you. It was only much later, in one of my visits with Gellert in the later days of his incarceration, that he told me the whole story. Or at least as much of it as he knew. Even he didn't know exactly how Tom had died, only that he'd found the boy's body in his study as the two of you disappeared with a Time Turner about your necks. It was rather unsettling the day you both arrived at Hogwarts and I realized just how far back you'd traveled." There hadn't been any judgment in his tone, but the revelation had shaken her. For the entire time she'd attended Hogwarts, her Headmaster had known exactly what she—or at least a version of her—had done.
"You knew and you didn't warn us?" Draco had looked one incorrect word away from total fury.
"Time is a tricky thing, Mr. Malfoy, and I had no idea what any interference on my part would yield. As uncouth as it may be to admit, I preferred the world without Tom Riddle in it and I was not about to do anything to undo the changes you had wrought. I felt silence the best option." His glasses had slipped further down his nose as he'd stared Draco down. "I imagine you are now aware of the complexity of the choices we make."
Hermione had felt the zing of betrayal as she'd heard those words, but also the cold clarity of understanding. He'd made a decision for the greater good. Just as he always had, no matter what dimension they lived within.
"The Draco Malfoy you knew in the past was a better man than you ever knew." It had seemed important that Dumbledore understand he did not know every detail of their lives. "I know you thought him the worst, but he wasn't. He'd been put in an impossible situation and made a choice, a complex choice."
Draco had sucked in a breath beside her, but hadn't interceded. Dumbledore's weighty gaze had settled on her a long moment before shifting to Draco. "I suppose in that, I do owe you an apology, Mr. Malfoy. The truth became clear when I leaned from Gellert of your role in Hermione's escape from Tom Riddle and his subsequent demise."
"No offense, Professor, but I'm not him. The expiration date on that apology has long passed." He'd gathered Hermione to his side and bestowed a cool scowl upon their former headmaster. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dance to finish with my fiancé."
"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore had demurred before adding, "I trust you won't be sharing the true depths of this… adventure with anyone. The Ministry has strict laws in regards to the alteration of time and both of you are guilty of a slew of infractions that would likely land you in Azkaban for life."
Draco's fingers had dug into her hip as he'd growled, "Thank you, Professor, I believe you have done enough."
"I am only looking out for you, Mr. Malfoy."
"I think by now we have proved we are more than capable of looking out for ourselves, Professor. Now please, let us go. Let this go," Hermione had implored before letting Draco turn her away. They'd spent the rest of the night dancing and trying to come to terms with just how real the foreign memories had been. It still hadn't been their lives, but it had been their world.
Time had run away from them as the years passed, their lives in the present eating away the painful shadows of the past until the bitter memories felt as stale as any others, simply a piece of a life that had not been her own. They did not forget, but they did not bend under the force of impossible truths anymore. They lived, they loved, they welcomed new life.
It was watching Aurelia—some things deserved to be remembered, not forgotten—run through their vast garden, picking flowers and dancing with imaginary fairy princesses, that Hermione had realized she was ready. The ring had sat in a box buried in the bottom of her wardrobe, untouched, but not entirely forgotten for nearly a decade. But now it was time; time to find him and let it all go. For her daughter, for her husband and most of all for herself.
Her hand flattened against the stone, her body pitching forward until her forehead met the chilled marble. Draco's hand tightened against her shoulder as he dropped to kneel beside her.
"Hello, Tom."
There was a pulse of warmth against her skin, there and gone so quickly it could have been a product of her imagination. The leaves shifted, a sudden breeze catapulting them into the air. Hermione shivered, but didn't waver.
"I don't know if you can hear me. I imagine maybe you can, wherever you are. I don't know what happens when we die, Tom, but I know you didn't stay. You would have haunted me until I flung myself off the nearest cliff." She sighed, fingers tracing his name again. "Or maybe you wouldn't have. I can't understand what happened at the end. I didn't live it; I didn't make any of those decisions. I wasn't there, not really. But I do know my life wouldn't have been possible without you. In a really twisted way, you actually gave me the chance to have a better life. To be free, just like you wanted."
Her free hand rose to clasp Draco's, his answering sigh the strength she needed to continue. She reached into her pocket, the golden wedding band heavy in her palm. She set it gently atop the stone, the metal luminous against the time-ravaged marble. "This should be with you. It certainly isn't mine. I'm not her. I know that beyond a doubt now. But you helped make me possible, so I wanted acknowledge that. You were terrible to her, to so many people, but you did let her go and I'll remember that."
Hermione shifted, brushing a kiss across the pale stone before murmuring, "this where we end, Tom Riddle."
There was no answering pulse of warmth, no sign that her words had affected anything but the air itself. Hermione let out a shuddering breath then pushed to her feet. Draco's strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her away from the grave, away from the haunting memories of another girl, another life. No pull lingered as they walked away, no sense that she could find the marker without reading a single name again.
He waited to speak until they'd stepped outside the grounds. "How does it feel?"
"Like her fight is over. Finally."
He brushed a soft kiss across her temple before dipping his head to claim her lips with his own. Hermione melted into him, surrendering to the familiar comfort of his caress. They stood, wrapped up together until her chilled lips tingled with his heat. Draco smiled down at her, his eyes warm, the storms chased away long ago.
"I love you Hermione Granger Malfoy."
"I know," she smirked and pressed another heated kiss against his lips. "Come on, we have a daughter to feed."
Sighing, he held out a hand. "Indeed, we do."
Notes: I don't even know what to say here. I don't want it to be the end. I'm also so very pleased with how this story has been received. It is on its way to becoming my most viewed (if not most Kudos'ed) story on AO3. So thank you, amazing readers, for taking a chance on me and this story. I write the ideas I just can't get out of my head, but it makes it so much sweeter when you guys love them too.
I don't have anything specific planned for the future, but as I've said in the comments, I have a couple ideas floating around in my head. I know I definitely want to write more Tom Riddle. He has such unexplored depths and I would like to plumb them all. As for Draco and Hermione, they are my home fandom, so I imagine I'll never truly be done writing stories about them. We'll see. Only time will tell.