Epilogue
Note: If you aren't one for bittersweet endings and just want a plain, sweet and simple Dramione ending, skip this and proceed to the alternative ending.
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"I will not wait to love as best as I can. We thought we were young and that there would be time to love well sometime in the future. This is a terrible way to think. It is no way to live, to wait to love."
- Dave Eggers
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Hermione was late. And not the five minutes kind of late, but the twenty-two minutes precisely kind of late. She might have tried to blame Ronald if it weren't for the owl arriving at five this morning calling him in. In compensation, she put the blame to Crookshanks (she did after all trip over him and then spill his breakfast everywhere) before she realised that was absurd. She had slept in, something she did not do often aside from third year. Then she had forgotten where her favourite maroon blouse was; then found her best pair of stockings had somehow gained a tear in the twelve hours she'd hung them in her closet; then she opened the fridge to find Ron had drunk all the milk with a little apologetic note stuck to one of the shelves. The note might have once brought on a grin, but today it had her crumpling the pink piece of paper.
And so now she was running through the halls, apologising profusely as she bumped and nudged people. She even thought she made a man spill coffee over himself from the cry of pain she heard behind her, but she could do little more than yell a second sorry over her shoulder. She felt her bun bop up and down vigorously, knew that pieces of hair were coming out, tried to keep strands from sticking to her mouth, but her hands were full of files and books from her old office (which she, naturally, dropped, and in response she would, naturally, swear).
It was her first day at the Ministry of Magic, and needless to say leaving a path of destruction was not how she pictured making first impressions.
The Promotion of Elfish Welfare was left in Alexis' hands now. Hermione had not lost her passion for elves, but there comes a time in everyone's life when they know, just know without an explanation like how someone knows it would be impossible to stand on a cloud without really understanding the scientific evidence, that they have done all they can, and that it is time to move on. Nothing lasts forever. Her old boss Mr. Jennings had even left, Derek Armstrong was definitely not returning and neither were other employees Hermione had befriended. What made things even stranger was Bun Woman had retired, replaced by some clueless blonde Hermione had been told. But that was life, wasn't it? People leave and new ones replace them.
Little Zane was now over a year old, and Hermione having had the honour of being his godmother was also lucky enough have heard his first word. If it was even deemed a word. Blaise was sure he had tried to say 'Slytherin' while looking through old Hogwarts photographs one afternoon. Pansy smirked triumphantly and high-fived Blaise, declaring, "My baby is destined for great things!" then directing at Hermione, "You'd better tell Potter's kid to watch out." Ginny was six months pregnant and getting more and more violent by the day. Every time Hermione and Ron saw them they always left with Ron red-faced and cursing his sister. It they had been explosive before, it was nothing to now. Even Harry was jumpy, but he was still happier than she'd seen him in a long time.
With most Death Eaters locked up things were almost, dare she think it, boring. There were still bad wizards out there and supporters of Voldemort's views, obviously. That would take decades to change, but things were where they should be. Life was finally working out, except for the fact that she was terribly late.
When the last elevator she would need to take opened, she burst through. It was a lot more crowded than the others she'd taken, however, and her shoulder shoved into some tall woman's as they both made to exit and then she was pushed into the big man on her other side. She tried to keep walking even as she felt herself still stumbling from the trip, and the result had her banging roughly into another person.
Hermione shrieked as books thudded to the floor and hundreds of papers flew up in the air, and for a few seconds that was all she could see, papers and papers and more papers, and then she felt an arm wrap itself around her waist to steady her.
"I'm really sorry," she said without glancing up. She dropped to her knees and gathered her books back into a pile quickly, hands fluttering clumsily over the mess. She let a flow of curses stream past her mouth, quiet enough that she didn't think anyone would hear. But the person she'd hit hadn't left like she'd thought, and he made an amused sound as he crouched down to help.
"So this is what happens when I leave you in Weasley's hands. Swearing becomes a second language."
She was not a fourteen-year-old girl anymore, hated clichés, but that didn't stem the jolt her heart gave when she looked up. "Draco," she said quietly.
He was wearing black plants and a light blue dress shirt pushed past his forearms. His hair was just as soft looking as always, and the blue from his shirt seemed to have his eyes appear bluer, and surely it was her imagination, but he looked wiser. Smarter. Better. Different. His lips twitched into a smirk. "Granger." He was the only person in the world who still called her that. Who would always call her that. And she liked it more than she probably should have. She cleared her throat and continued stacking her books while he gathered up papers.
"So why are you, uh, here?" she asked as he passed them to her.
"I got brought in by a bunch of Aurors who caught me assaulting a pygmy puff." At the look she gave him, he smirked wider. "Calm down. I work here."
Hermione, having only just stood, thought she might fall down again. "Are you kidding?"
"No. This is my second week. I actually think I'm doing okay, no more fetching coffee or any of that bullshit, and I've also restrained myself from punching some of the pompous arseholes working here – what?"
She realised she had been staring, long and hard, his words six months ago ringing through her head; we're not supposed to never see each other again because there will always be a reason for you being in my life and me in yours. "Nothing," she responded as casually as she could. She didn't know how to feel about this. "Alexis didn't mention anything to me." That was stupid reasoning. She didn't know because she made a point of asking Alexis not to mention Draco because it hurt. That was the simple truth. Anything reminding her of Draco brought up too many feelings, of regret, anger, longing, an absence only he could fill. And she'd thought she was doing okay at forgetting; no longer thinking of him every time she saw an apple, or read the pick-up lines section in the newspaper, or when that soap opera come on they always muted to make fun of. But then Alexis announced her and Draco's engagement, and Hermione thought one of life's hardest tasks is to smile and be happy for someone while each laugh and smile sliced directly to the heart.
"Alexis mentioned to me that you'd left," Draco said. "I know you don't do anything for the fun of it, so why?"
"I've been considering it for a while and I've done everything I can for house elves." She tried to shrug with her books weighing her down. "Time for a change."
"So what's next on your list of things to conquer?" She didn't answer instantly, and watched his gaze go from the parchments in her hands, to her blouse and skirt. "Here?"
"Perhaps," she said, feeling defensive of herself.
"What department?"
"This one. Law Enforcement."
"You do realise our offices are either directly next or across from each other?"
She shifted her books in her arms uncomfortably, and Draco wordlessly reached out and took half of the weight for her. Ironic, because when they first ran, literally ran, into each other, he hadn't even bent down to help her pick up what she was holding.
After a pause, he cockily slid closer to her and asked in a low voice, "How do you feel about a little extracurricular activity at the workplace, hm? Sex on a desk, it even has a nice flow."
She rolled her eyes, though could not hide her amusement. "You're engaged and I'm married."
Draco shrugged. "Doesn't stop most people." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Why Law Enforcement? Should I remember correctly, you said you'd never work for the Ministry."
"There's still the issues of dragon's being mistreated under Gringotts which I feel shouldn't – why are you looking at me like that?"
"You and your lost causes, Granger. First Spew –"
"– it's not Spew, it's S.P –"
"– then Potter and Weasley's intelligence, that chicken of Hagrid's, me, bloody dragons. I even think you had a phase involving goblins and wizardry rivalry for a few weeks there."
She looked at him sedately for a moment. "You're wrong, you know."
"About what? I'm serious, you were dead set on making friends with goblins for a good fortnight –"
"You were never a lost cause, Draco."
Something crossed his face. She was too slow to interpret it, was far too used to Ron and his clear display of emotion by now to understand Draco's anymore. But then a gentle smile lifted his lips, the rare and sincere kind that reached his eyes. She took in the unexpected sight greedily, smiling back before she could help herself, and this was when she grasped that she will never really get over Draco. It would not matter if seven or thirty years passed, if she forgot the blue flecks in his eyes or the creases in his forehead. Whatever she did, no matter how hard she tried to forget, she would always be brought back to this.
"Did you want to get a coffee later?" he asked abruptly, voice steady but eyes uncertain. "I'll even be generous enough to pay."
"Oh, um, Draco..." She shifted. "I don't think that's –"
"Right." He nodded. "Yeah. I thought you'd say that."
"It's not that I don't want to, but it's better –"
"This way," he finished for her. "Brief hellos in the halls and leave it at that. I understand."
She did not think he did understand, but reached out and took her books anyway. "I should go."
"I guess I'll see you around."
"Definitely." But even as she said it, her chest twisted and ached.
"Granger?"
She glanced back. "Yeah?"
He hesitated for a long time, eyes drifting over her, and when he finally spoke it was quiet. "We fought and frustrated each other to no bounds, but we..." He breathed deeply, shoulders rising, and when he continued his words were an exhale of air. "We made a pretty good team... didn't we?"
Hermione didn't reply at first, so taken aback by the unguarded way in which he spoke, the magnitude of emotion. "Yeah," she said gently. "We did."
He lingered for a second, maybe waiting for something, then nodded to himself. Smiled but it was dull. And then he turned away from her.
She lingered for a second, then turned the opposite direction. Started walking, each step feeling heavier and heavier, heart hammering against her chest because she knew what she wanted to do, knew what she was fighting. But she couldn't, could not, let herself do this. It wasn't ethical; it would make everything so much harder. What would Harry think? More importantly, what would Ron think? She loved them; this was the right thing to do. Was better and safer for everyone. Hermione Granger did not make foolish decisions, but her brain was whirling with the feelings pulsing through her, so powerful thinking was an effort, and were so strong and demanding and becoming increasingly louder. And she could not help but acknowledge that this felt like the biggest mistake of her life, to let him go a second time.
She stopped. Looked back. Draco was halfway down the spiral stairs.
Ron. Ron. Ron.
Looked ahead. Her office was mere metres away.
Draco. Draco. Draco.
She couldn't think, could hear seconds ticking.
Ron. Draco. Ron. Draco.
And then she was dropping her books and papers, rushing to the stairs before she had made a conscious decision.
He was at the bottom now, and she hurried down clumsily, clumsily enough to have her slamming into his back. He turned, her hands gripping his familiar shoulders. When their eyes connected everything switched off except for one thought.
Draco.
"I've, um, changed my mind," she said a little breathlessly. "I will take you up on that offer."
His silver eyes bored into hers, and he pulled her in closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her as though she might slip away, his lips pressing into her hair. "That's my girl."
"As friends, Draco. We're just friends," she said, but even to her she could hear the lie.
"But of course, Granger," he agreed in that infuriatingly patronising way of his as he pulled away by an inch, mouth barely brushing hers as he spoke. "We've never been anything more than just friends."
Later, Hermione walked back to her new office, forgetting that she had ever been late, or that she was supposed to be in a bad mood, or that her hair was still a mess. She forgot everything except for Draco Malfoy, the boy she loathed and the man she loved. Because real life sometimes worked out like that. Because nobody ever falls in love at an ideal time. It doesn't happen during some extraordinary moment like when you kiss for the first time under fireworks or when he pronounces his undying love to the world. It happens quietly and accidentally, during a moment that holds no real significance; sleeping side by side and your breathing falls into rhythm with theirs; when they're talking passionately about a favourite book with a lopsided smile; rubbing their back while they vomit; seeing that state between awake and sleep when they've first woken up, hair in angles you didn't know was possible; listening as they explode with vulnerability and express insecurities, eyes red and nose running. Those moments, the total and raw honestly shared, are when a person falls in love. Slowly, and then all at once. And maybe it was not meant to last, and maybe this decision would hurt a lot later, and maybe the entire thing would explode. But it was a risk she was willing to take, because nothing could stop the gentle smile curving her lips.
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Draco's last sentence is so ironically true cause like they've officially never been more than friends but that never stopped them from loving the crap out of each other. Anyway, I'm freaking out and feel like I have just signed my soul away oh my god IT'S OVER. Let me just say that this entire book/story/fic is longer than each of the Harry Potter books except for the fifth one, which only has 38,000 words more. You guys basically just read the Order of the Phoenix again.
About this ending: I know, I know. You're all probably like WHAT WHY NO HOW COULD SHE WHAT NO. Personally, I'm happy with this ending. I had it planned like this from the beginning and I know it'll anger and disappoint some but I wrote this for me because this was how I wanted it to turn out. I'm a sucker for realistic romances bc I sympathise with them the most. But I also care about you guys so hence the alternative ending. Pretty much the interpretation from this ending is, no, she doesn't go off with Draco and cheat on Ron. Hermione is not that person. But yes, she still loves him and he loves her. So obviously it's a very hard and heartbreaking road ahead but both are willing to go through that because, when you take away the romantic feelings, Draco and Hermione still genuinely cared and loved each other in that best friend way. And they would rather get that friendship back than never speak again.
Also, just because it's labelled 'alternative ending' doesn't make it any less real. I know most of you will rather stick with that ending than this one and that's perfectly okay!
Thank yous: I want to thank you all so much because if you're reading this now it either means you've skipped to the end or you've really read this far. The first is more likely, and it's just really amazing and so flattering that you've persisted this far, and I swear I get some of the most kindest comments you're all perfect and I am virtually hugging you all individually, unless you have space issues, and if that is the case then I will graciously bow to you from a respectful distance ;)
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