Epilogue: Eyes the Colour of the Sky
The door into Hogwarts loomed almost menacingly when she reached the courtyard, looking like a gaping hole waiting to take her back into normality, and she found she didn’t want normalcy. She sighed, letting the tears flow and fall to the ground when the loss of Legolas ate away at her. She knew from the beginning it could not last forever, and the trouble with wanting something is the fear of losing it or never getting it.
These thoughts cause weakness.
Hermione looked up when Dumbledore appeared before her, handing her a handkerchief. ‘A fearsome strength of unknown depth and a girl toyed with by fate…’ he whispered regrettably.
She tried to repress the flow of tears. ‘I thought I would be able to let him go without ever doubting myself, but I… it hurts so much,’ she whispered, blowing her nose.
Dumbledore smiled dourly. ‘We have all loved and lost in this war, Hermione, but you are strong yet,’ he told her, tenderly lifting her chin, and she couldn’t help smiling at him miserably.
There are no choices. Nothing, but a straight line, and the illusion comes afterwards when she would ask “why me?” and “what if?“. When she looked back, she would see branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or forked lightning. If she did something different, it would not be her, and it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions.
The days after blurred around the edges, and she did not pay attention to much of what was going on. When she looked around the Gryffindor Common Room, she knew things would never be the same, and her eyes found the door leading to Legolas’ room, causing tears to form in her eyes.
She felt someone wrap their arms around her, and just from the scent of his cologne, she could tell it was Draco. ‘It was you, Hermione. You were his reason to live,’ he whispered into her ear, and she looked at him in bewilderment.
He smiled radiantly at her before he looked eloquently at the door to Legolas’ room, and Hermione frowned when he nudged her towards the door. Mystified, she walked to the door, taking a deep breath before turning the handle, and it swung open on squeaky hinges. Hermione stood in astonishment, staring at a figure who was sitting on the bed, and he looked at her, his face etched with apprehension, and she fainted.
He stood from the bed, making his way to her side, kneeling down and stroking her hair until she opened her eyes. ‘Legolas?’ She whispered, and he smiled down at her. When prayers turn into promises, not even fate can stand in the way.
‘I am here,’ he whispered, leaning down and kissing her softly.
‘But how?’ she questioned in bafflement.
He helped her stand. ‘They granted me a mortal life, but I am not sure how or why,’ he answered with a shrug.
‘You mean… you’re mortal?’ Hermione gasped, taking in the changes to his appearance. His ears were no longer pointy, and his eyes had darkened, but other than this, he was the same, and still had the otherworldly beauty to him.
‘I guess my wish was powerful enough to be heard. I wanted to be with you,’ Legolas said quietly, taking her hands in his.
‘I… I can’t believe you’re here. Am I imagining this?’ she probed, pinching her arm.
Legolas chuckled. ‘No, you are not dreaming. I am here,’ he told her, resting his head against hers.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
Legolas looked at her in misunderstanding. ‘What for?’ he questioned.
‘I didn’t even say goodbye,’ she told him.
Legolas smiled. ‘Hermione, it does not matter now. All that matters is we are here, and we can move on with life,’ he replied, leaning down and kissing her gently. ‘I love you,’ he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes.
Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I love you, too,’ she returned softly, pulling him into another, longer kiss.
What was a mere flower at first, through a chain of events, developed into a dream. The dream shared by all is also the bond tying the forgotten past to the present…
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