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Hermione Granger had lived a life of excitement and wonder.
As a child, she had flourished in a warm and loving home with her family in Hampstead, and whilst she struggled to connect with those her age, the next stage of her life came hurtling towards her as she joined Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Hermione had a few years of relative joy and friendship, if you don’t count the ominous presence of the dark lord, and then fought in the Second Wizarding War against him.
All this by the age of 17.
Present Day 2062 - Muggle London
“Mum… he’s out there again.”
“You need to stop obsessing about that man, Imogen.”
“But he’s here every day! I swear he can see us.”
Rose Granger-Weasley let out a tired breath as she placed a pot of Earl Grey on a tea tray. “Of course he can. Because the Fidelius Charm is possibly the most powerful piece of protection magic in our world, but this old numpty can see directly into the window and watch Imogen Patil obsess over him.”
“Oh, hush. I liked it when you spent less time with Nani. You’re starting to be as cheeky as she is.”
“Ha! We haven’t even touched the surface, darling!” Imogen rolled her eyes as her mother floated the tea tray and joked at her expense. Her mother had reached the point in her life where she felt roasting her teenage daughter would be more fun than kindness, love or the usual parenting gimmicks.
Imogen made her way along the corridor, her eyes watching the older man sitting across the street.
In recent days, she had begun to see him almost daily. Seated on a bench in the park across from her grandparents' home, the man sat reading a worn notebook that seemed to bulge with age. Why would he sit there reading the same notebook every day? Why didn’t he write in it? Was it a story? Perhaps it was stuck with pictures or drawings from his grandchildren?
Imogen’s mind wandered as she idly made her way to the last bedroom along the passage.
Gently pushing the door, she paused as she watched her mother place a kiss on the forehead of her gran. At the sound of her sniff, two brown eyes darted towards the door, “Oh my darling girl… come here.”
Hermione Granger-Weasley beckoned her granddaughter towards her with outstretched arms. Imogen rested her head on her grandmother’s shoulder, taking a deep breath of the vanilla scent that always seemed to surround her. It reminded her of hours spent reading on her lap as Hermione stroked her hair whilst she argued for the rights of the Mer-people and guided Wizarding Britain to embrace a more accepting world.
Rose ran her hand across Imogen’s hair and stepped out of the room. Truthfully, there was only so much her heart could take.
It was time for Imogen and the world at large to say goodbye to Hermione Granger-Weasley.
And she wasn’t ready. She would never be ready.
Imogen wiped at the tears threatening to fall down her face as she released her grandmother from her embrace. She stared at the face of the woman who had built fairy gardens with her and taught her how to make Apple Crumble without magic and felt her heart break open at the smile on Hermione’s face.
Hermione smiled at her granddaughter as she fought to keep the sleep at bay.
She was more tired now than she had ever been during the wars. She had always known that her life had been too extraordinary for it to last. Wizarding folk, Muggleborns too, lived a long life, but Hermione knew that her time would come sooner. She had wanted too much out of this life, and there had to be balance in the universe.
The Healers said it was a curse. It should have taken away her mind, her energy and her drive. But she fought it, perhaps she’d fought it too hard. Her marriage to Ronald had crumbled in the shadow of her ambition; he couldn’t understand why she would not stop. Her time was limited, and there was still so much work to do, an entire world to make better.
“There’s a man out by the park. I swear he’s been coming here every day since you got back from Mungo’s. Its so odd, all he ever does is read from this ratty old notebook.”
Hermione closed her eyes as she lay her head against her pillow, and a slight tremble made its way across her face. She reached across her duvet and clasped Imogen’s warm hand as she slowly opened her eyes, “You know, I often dream about a face I’ve longed to see. And in this world of magic, all my mind could conjure was the edges of his face. But now I’m starting to see him more clearly.”
Imogen clutched the chilled hand of her grandmother, “I could call grandad! He’s been wanting to see-”
“The man I dream of isn’t Ronald, darling girl.”
“But he’s the one you dream of, right? You’ve always regretted the divorce.”
Trying to rise from her bed, Hermione felt Imogen’s unobtrusive assist as she lay her back against her headboard, “My life would have been easier, but no, it's not Ronald.”
“Ooh, a mystery man! I don’t think you’ve ever told me about him.” Imogen kicked off her sneakers and slid under the covers next to Hermione, eager to find out more about the life she had lived.
“We’d known each other for as long as Harry and I had, but it took a long time for us to find our rhythm. But when we did, it was a symphony. He’d loved me in ways I never thought I could be. He saw me. And I’ve never stopped loving him.”
“So how did you end up marrying granddad instead of him?”
“After the war, I was lonely. I struggled in a world that was thriving… when we reconnected, I finally remembered who I was and who I needed myself to be. Sometimes, we make choices to protect our heart and it seems right at the time. It wasn’t our turn this time around. But in the next life, I’ll be waiting for him. I know he’s waiting for me.”
Flashback - March 2007
“Say something, Granger.” Draco Malfoy’s chest tightened as he watched Hermione’s body still. “Please.”
“I’m not entirely sure what you’re asking me to do. It seems as if your mind is made up.”
“I have to save her, Hermione! I can’t have another life on my conscience.”
Hermione took a sharp, painful breath and rose from the settee and walked towards him, her hand reaching to cup his cheek as tears slid down her face. Watching her cry filled Draco with desolation, “I should have told you sooner about the blood magic. It's only 3 years, and we’ll have the rest of our lives together.” Each word he spoke brought their lips closer together. Draco traced the path of her tears with his finger before tenderly kissing her lips.
Flashback - June 2007
Rapid knocking at the door pulled Hermione from her melancholy. She placed a kiss on Crookshanks’ head, steeling herself as she made her way to the door. Crookshanks let out an agonised sound, “I know Crooks… ”
“What is this? Is this how you say ‘goodbye’?” The notebook flailed in his hands, water dripping off the tips of his hair.
“I needed time to collect my thoughts, and you needed to know. I love you, Draco. Shared more of myself with you than anyone else, and you didn’t choose me. And I need more than that. I needed to be yours.”
“But you are, Granger! Hermione, please.” His grey eyes that she so loved brimmed with tears he could no longer control.
“I love the man you’ve become, Draco Malfoy. You’re going to be an exceptional Healer one day.”
Present Day - June 2062
Hermione Granger had lived a life of excitement, wonder and heartache.
She had flourished in her role as the Minister for Magic and led Wizarding Britain to an age of tolerance and peace.
Three months after she was laid to rest, Imogen noticed an old, battered notebook had been placed at her grave.
Perhaps, it was finally their time.