Epilogue
)O(
Hermione sat up in bed and looked blearily at the man lying beside her. She'd gone to sleep early, utterly exhausted, and Ron had to make his own way to bed. She noticed that he'd fallen asleep in his clothes again, not bothering to shower or put on some pyjamas. She bet that he'd also forgotten to brush his teeth. With a shudder instilled by parents long dead, Hermione thought about the bacteria that must, even now, be breaking down her husband's teeth. Sighing, she got up and hobbled over to the fire to ask Mimsy, their house-elf, to prepare breakfast. Over the years Hermione had managed to create more freedom for house-elves, so they didn't have to come when called and could hold more regular working hours. Mimsy was properly employed, she thought proudly, and very happy with her work too. Every Sunday at 2 o'clock in the afternoon Hermione sat down with her house-elf at the kitchen table and they knitted together. Mimsy was working on a hat, specially designed to accommodate her long ears.
Now that she was ninety-seven, Hermione looked back on parts of her life and smiled. She'd managed to achieve everything she wanted to do when she was seventeen. House-elves had more rights, Voldemort was so dead that all that remained of him these days was in history books, the Ministry of Magic was totally re-ordered, and she still had Ron. He'd been with her every step of the way on a difficult journey, but what she remembered most was that time shortly after the war when they talked about life. Smiling, she recalled her passionate arguments about how there was so little time and she didn't want to waste a second of it. What a naïve girl she'd been! She knew that you had all your life to do what you wanted to do, but what really mattered was how much you enjoyed yourself. In her youth, Hermione had had plenty of experiences that gave her joy, but now she felt too tired to do anything. There must be a capacity to the fullness of life. She'd lived hers well, so all she had to do now was to wait to die. In the meantime however, Hermione could still do a little something for someone else. After all, who was to say when life was supposed to end?
Even magic can't cure the inevitable. When her time came, she would go. She only hoped that Ron would not accompany her this time, as he'd done countless others. He still had some life left in him.
She could see her place in the river and it was coming closer...closer...closer… Soon, the water would welcome her back and take her out to sea.
Who knew what lay beyond the sea?
)O(
Fin