I don't own Harry Potter.
Originally written in 2007.
Hermione stirred from the dark void of sleep, to find herself in a bright, white room. Groaning, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and turned her head, seeing a young man with messy black hair and bright green eyes.
"Good morning sunshine," Harry said, taking her hand and kissing the knuckle. "You've been out for a while." Hermione groaned tiredly as she shifted position on her bed.
"How's the baby?" Hermione asked. "Is the baby okay?" Harry flashed her his signature lopsided grin as he held her hand in his.
"The baby's just fine," he said, leaning over until he was over her, and gently pressing his lips to her own. For a moment, Hermione felt like she was in heaven.
Hermione stirred from her dream, and instinctively reached over to the other half of the bed, only to find empty space. Realization quickly crept up to her, along with no small amount of heartache as she remembered why there was no one with her. Mixed with her melancholy emotions, she also felt confusion about her dream. For weeks now, she had been dreaming about the day she had woken up after giving birth to her and Harry's first child. Struggling to pull herself out of bed, Hermione bathed and dressed herself with the assistance of Skippy, Winky's grandchild and the Potter family butler.
Taking her cane in her hand, Hermione walked down the empty hallways of Potter Manor, the walls lined with countless memories. With a sad smile, she looked at the moving images of her with Harry during their school days, on their holidays to exotic locations, and of their family as they grew up.
She stopped at a photo of a woman with curly black hair in a flowing white dress, standing before a handsome brunette groom. She remembered her eldest daughter's wedding like it was yesterday, as well as the happiness that she had felt then.
Hermione walked into the kitchen and prepared a simple meal of tea and toast when the fireplace glowed green and a young woman fell out, grumbling under her breath. Jolene Potter-Smith was Harry and Hermione's eldest great-granddaughter, and she seemed to have inherited Harry's adeptness at Floo travel.
"So, you drew the short straw today?" Hermione asked teasingly. With her multitude of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, she always seemed to have someone over at her house to watch over her.
"Yup," Jolene said, dusting the soot off of her clothes. "I still think Jim altered them while we weren't looking." Hermione laughed as she poured herself and Jolene a cup of tea. "How are you feeling, Grandmama?" she asked as they sat down at the table.
"I'm doing fine, Jolene, really," Hermione said, waving the question off. "I swear, even three generations down the line, and the Potter 'saving-people-thing' is still going strong." Hermione blew on her tea and took a sip before setting it back down. "So, what's the juicy new gossip in the family tree today?" For the rest of the day, like many days lately, Hermione simply sat and talked, rarely stopping other than to eat, drink or use the loo. She would talk to her children and their children and their children about everything: her life before Hogwarts, her adventures with Harry, and the love that they had shared together as a married couple. Hermione and Jolene talked until the clock on the wall rung eight 'o clock.
"I've got to go; long day ahead of me tomorrow," Jolene said, kissing Hermione on the cheek. "Are you sure that you don't need anything?" Hermione chuckled as she shook her head.
"I've told you and your parents and your aunts and uncles, I'll be fine. You go home and get your beauty sleep, child. Merlin knows I need my own beauty sleep." Jolene bit her lip nervously, but reluctantly nodded her head before throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and disappearing. Hermione sighed as she called for Skippy to help her up the stairs and into her bedroom. After changing into her nightgown, Hermione crawled under the covers and slipped into the land of dreams.
Hermione stirred as she woke up in a white room, like she had so many times before. But unlike the hospital robe that St. Mungo's issued to its patients, she wore a long white sundress. Sitting by her side was the love of her life, Harry Potter.
"Good morning, sunshine," Harry said as he kissed her hand, like so many times before. Hermione smiled as she squeezed his hand.
"How's the baby?" Hermione asks out of habit.
"The baby's fine, love," Harry said, leaning over to kiss her like he had done so many times before. But unlike before, this time, the dream did not end with the kiss. "I've been waiting for a long time, Hermione, and now it's time. It's time for you to come home." Barely able to contain the joy threatening to burst within her, Hermione sat up on her bed and held out her hand to him.
"I'm ready," she said. "Take me home, Harry." Smiling, Harry stood up and took Hermione's hand, gently pulling her to her feet. Hand in hand, they walked together into a light in the distance that steadily grew brighter. As they walked on, Hermione held her soul mate's hand as she closed her eyes, allowing the light's warmth to envelope her.
Two weeks later, a relatively small service was held for her. Only family and close friends were allowed to attend, despite the attempts of reporters, as well as the wizarding world in general. The Potter clan knew that having half of England attending her funeral was not something Hermione would have wanted.
One by one, they said their goodbyes, laying a rose at the feet of the coffin, until a small mound had been built. After saying final prayers, they lowered the casket containing both husband and wife into the ground, and poured the loose earth over it, sealing from the world.
One by one, they left. None of them wanted to, but they all had their lives to live, and they all knew that Hermione would not have wanted them to mourn, so they left with a final glance at the new headstone marking the grave.
HARRY JAMES POTTER
1980 – 2036
HERMIONE JANE GRANGER POTTER
1980 – 2110
FRIENDS, PARENTS, LOVERS, HEROES
MAY THEY FIND PEACE IN THE NEXT GREAT JOURNEY
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