This story is about love, but not about romance. This is about what a person will do to ensure the people he loves will remain safe. This is the story about sacrificing everything to receive nothing. This story is about the search for something more, but mostly this is a story about walking the line between sin and grace. Twenty Years ago, Harry Potter dissapeared after his final showdown with Voldemort. To save her broken heart Hermione Marries Ron, but what happens when True Love returns? This most definately will end H/Hr, sometimes the journey is worth the strife...
From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/2284/
A/N: First I do not own any of the original HP characters and any character that does not come from the books comes from the depths of my insanity. I hope you enjoy. I have this up at DARK Arts but have had horrible writers block, I am hoping that posting this here will give me new reviews and more inspiration…
Close to Grace
This story is about love, but not about romance. This is about what a person will do to ensure the people he loves will remain safe. This is the story about sacrificing everything to receive nothing. This story is about the search for something more, but mostly this is a story about walking the line between sin and grace.
Prologue :
“S'io credessi che mia risposta fosse apersona che mai tornasse al mondo, questa fiamme staria senza piu' scosse. Ma per cio' che giammai di questo fondo senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.”
“If I believed my answer were being given to someone who could ever return to the world, this flame (his voice) would shake no more. But since no one has ever returned alive from this depth, if what I hear is true, I will answer you without fear or disgrace.” Dante's Inferno
July 30th, 2020
My Dearest~
If anyone had told me how life would end up I never would have believed them. Oh sure, I have everything I always wanted, a great career, a great family, and a loving and caring husband. But I want for everything. I climb into bed every night next to my husband and best friend, and every night I'm unfaithful in my dreams. It's not as if I don't love him, because I do. Only it's different.
It's been 22 years since that day you left me. Was I a fool, thinking my love would ensure your return? Maybe I was. For once the brilliant Hermione Granger was clueless. I believed you when you said we were going to have a future together,that we'd tell him and live happily ever after. But happily ever after is only for fairy tales, and it's not as if we live in a Magic Kingdom.
We should never have let anything happen between us. You were practically my brother, practically being the key word. You didn't want it to go so far as it did, I see that now. You knew as if you had some sort of sixth sense about your fate. Maybe I'd never have dated him in the first place if you'd gotten over your fear in the first place. But hindsight is truly 20/20.
Ron's good to me, don't get me wrong. He's a great father to our kids. He always plays with them and they never have said an ill word against him. He tries to love me, but every once and awhile when we go out I see the look on his face. It's in his eyes; the sorrow he feels when he realizes what we have isn't true love, only caring and companionship masquerading as love. Ron deserved better than to get trapped by love, not in love. God he deserves better.
It's no as if he's ignorant to what happened between us. I've heard him on several occasions. He was talking to his mum the first time I learned that he knew. It was right after I'd given birth to our son on your birthday. He thought I was asleep…
“She loved him Mum.”
“Loved who?”
“Harry. She had an affair with him before he left.”
“Ron,”
“I know mum. It's in times gone by. It's just I wonder if I did the right thing.”
We named our son James after your family's sacrifice. He's graduating this year as Head Boy. Our daughter is 13 and she is more like her father. And now she's starting to ask questions about love. And I don't know what to tell her. Do I tell her that love is what Daddy and I have? Or do I tell her about true love?
I could tell her everything about true love. I could tell her how my insides froze when you brushed your lips upon mine that first time. Every time I looked into your eyes, I saw a reflection of myself within your heart. How I could read your entire face in a single glance. I could tell her of the flowers you gave me, the white roses that I loved and Ron scorned. He thought it was cute, so long as they were never red. But you knew, I hated red roses, hated them for their repetitiveness.
The last time I saw you something bothered me about your appearance. Something was amiss. But I never realized what it was. Now I know. It was the lack of a smile in your eyes. You seemed withdrawn. We talked, and you gave me the ring you said belonged to your Mum. A diamond with two green emeralds surrounding it, James said it reminded him of Lily's eyes, your eyes. I've worn it over 22 years. It reminds me of the good and bad simultaneously.
I miss your smile. The way it would light up even during the most dangerous of times. I bet you smiled when you died. I think about your death often. Were you satisfied, your destiny finally fulfilled? Maybe it's just easier for me to think this, instead of a pain stricken face.
Even worse are the nights when I can't sleep. I hear you whispering my name, your mangled body lying under the ruble at the Ministry. And for one selfish moment you ask why. Why was it you? Where was I? I try to explain, but you never hear me. You never see me and then you're gone. Than I'm alone in a room filled with white roses. Analytically I know that it's my guilt talking and not you. But God how I hope you died peacefully.
God, how I love you Harry. Even to this day with everything I have, I still would give it back just to have you. I kiss Ron and close my eyes. For just a second, the time it took for me to fall in love with you, I see your face painted upon my eyelids. And I feel that if sure will could bring you back, I'd have accomplished it at least 1,000 times. But that doesn't happen instead you rush through my memories. I see you on the Hogwarts express, taped glasses and all. I can smell the scent you picked up when we flew through Quidditch fields and twilight sunsets. All this until your eyes are burned into my eyes, so that when I open them I expect bright emeralds and see warm sapphires instead. Just as equal, yet not quit right.
Tomorrow you would have turned 40. Your Birthday is a holiday now. I chuckle, because I know you'd hate the idea. Just like you'd hate the idea that Ron and I go up to Godric's Hallow at least once a year on your Birthday, though sometimes more. We bring a single white rose for you, a lily for James and lilacs for Lily. Others bring flowers throughout the year, and I feel sad. Sad that they will never know you the way I did. And every year I cry. I got seven glorious years with you and I came to learn what love truly is. And Harry, you were true love, even if for a moment. I have to go now, the kids and Ron are waiting, we are going to celebrate James' birthday.
With all my heart and devotion
Hermione Granger Weasly
Chapter 1: Truth
“I can tell by your eyes that you've probably been crying forever
and the stars in the sky don't mean nothing to you they're a mirror.
I don't wanna talk about it, how you broke my heart, if I stay here just a little bit longer, if I stay here, won't you listen to my heart…” I Don't Wanna Talk About It, the Indigo Girls
February 14, 2021
Hermione Granger Weasly sat at her desk in the small cottage she owned outside Hogsmeade. Her husband was away at work. That was a relief in itself. She hated it when he was underfoot for the day. She was never at peace. Her daughter and son were both at Hogwarts and wouldn't be down until the next Hogsmeade weekend. The wrought iron picture frame was cold in her hand. She looked deep into her daughter's face, seeing nothing of herself in it. Rebecca had bright flaming hair and a face covered in freckles. She was on the Gryffindor house team by her second year and was making a “bloody brilliant chaser” in the words of her father. The only thing that betrayed her was the hazel of her eyes. She didn't have her father's blue or her mother's brown, just a mix. But that was it, as far as Hermione was concerned when it came to her daughter's resemblance to herself. Her son, however, resembled his mother. His dark brown eyes and wavy brown hair, as well as his grades and attitude were that of his mother. Not to say that her daughter wasn't smart, but all the same James was smarter. He currently took his job as Head Boy as one of utmost importance. He could have taken anyone out on this special occasion, but he would rather make sure the school was in order. Hermione smiled thinking of her oh, so Ravenclaw son. Ron had been shocked when the hat had sorted James into Ravenclaw, but Hermione knew better. The only reason she had wanted in Gryffindor was she was sure that was where Harry Potter would end up. The Sorting Hat had tried hard to place her in Ravenclaw, and she just as stubborn as that old hat had wanted Gryffindor. She had been elated, but now looking back on her life she wondered what would have happened if she had made the other choice. After all, it is our choices that make us who we are, and Hermione would have been completely different if it weren't for Harry Potter.
And that was the reason for her mood on this “festive” holiday. Again she was stuck in the past. Her husband didn't know what vexed Hermione when no one was around. She set down the picture frame with a sigh and walked over to the cloak rack. Picking up her winter cloak, a thick wool that Mrs. Weasly had knitted her, she left the house.
Once she reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade she apparated to Godric's Hallow. The small town slept under a blanket of creamy white. Though the weather was mild, the snow stayed. It crunched under her feet as she walked, to the place she walked everyday, whether in her mind, or in real life.
Harry Potter sat in his relaxing room. The soft breeze played across his face as he penned his letter. They told him that he wouldn't be allowed to remember certain things, such as why he was going back. But Lily had assured him that he would remember Hermione. That alone was enough for him. And so he wrote, his soul and feelings on parchment. When he was finished he folded it and put it in his pocket before taking the bitter potion that had been given to him, in order to carry out his task…
She sat in the small park and watched as people went by. Little did they know that beyond the bare lilac bushes lay Harry Potter's grave. There was an official memorial in the town middle, but that was for all the victims of Voldemort's wrath. Harry's grave had been hidden to avoid any problems. Hermione had wanted a place for Harry to have peace. His entire life had been spent running toward what would ultimately lead to his death. At least in death he could be happy. She kept an eye on his grave, one of the few that could see it, she read the quote on his grave. Over and over it played on the recess of her mind: “Love is the beauty of the soul and because of your beauty I have found love, and because of your love I have found my soul.” The words were something Harry had written her once, though no one knew it, while waiting for her in a small café in Hogsmeade. Hermione had gone with Ron instead and sealed her fate. She was lost in thought when she noticed a tall man lurking about the grave. She got up to see who it could be. After all only certain people were aware of the grave.
Then the man's knees buckled under him and Hermione rushed over to him. She knelt down to him and flipped him over to see if he was still breathing, and for a moment she was afraid she was going through a memory. The dark black hair was tousled over a familiarly pale face. And above his right eye was a scarlet scar. Hemrione gasped. She checked for a breath and found that this man, this apparition, whatever he was, had one. She brushed the hair out of the man's face and felt the heat radiating from his scar. And than, his eyes opened, green sapphires were the first shock she received, until the man whispered, “Hermione?” Before passing out once more…
Hermione would never know what got her back home with this stranger, but it was a strength and calmness that she had forgotten she possessed. She had levitated the mystery man to the couch and then had flooed her husband. Now she sat in her kitchen, while her husband and his co-Aurors checked to verify what she already knew was true. Harry Potter was alive.
Among the aurors was Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. Hermione looked up as he walked into the room. She had never seen the man before her look so happy yet so scared at the same time. And if she could look into his soul she would know why.
Sirius hadn't made it through Azkaban without learning a thing or two about human nature. He learned how to read people a long time ago, and Ron was about as easy to read as a first grade primer. Sirius could see the look on Ron's face when it was determined that the man on the couch was indeed Harry. A look of relief was the first thing that he noticed, but this was quickly replaced with fear and jealousy. Sure Sirius could read those things, but why they were there he did not know.
He knew that Harry always carried a flame for Hermione, but he figured that Hermione had either turned him down, or he had never said anything to her. But that was the least of his worries. He was more worried about why and how Harry had come back. The day of Harry's departure had been one of utter grief to Sirius. He had lost two Potters already, but to lose the final Potter was more than he could bare. It took many years for Sirius to resume a normal life, the only way he could do that was by telling himself that they were all in a better place. He silently shook the thoughts out of his head like cobwebs falling to the floor.
“Sirius, is that him? Is it really him?” Hermione asked with a timid voice. The past few hours had been tough on her. Guilt, grief, and happiness all mingled with in her heart. What would happen to them? Ron knew her secret, but would Harry want anything? And her kids, gods, why was her life so difficult?
Sirius pulled a chair up to the table where Hermione sat. Peering deep into her eyes he saw the scared, determined girl he met while in the Shrieking Shack.
“Yeah,” Sirius cleared his throat. “It's him. I'm going to be going home to try and figure out what happened. I'll see you later?” Hermione nodded and than made a move to get up, but Sirius stayed her with a hand.
“Hermione, before you go in you should know we don't know quite how to deal with this situation.” He paused. “Just be careful.”
Hermione got up, “Thank you Sirius, I'm sure you know what this means to me.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Hermione walked through the narrow hallway that connected the cozy kitchen to her front parlor. As she walked in, she noticed things as she had never seen them before. There was a small crack running up the taupe colored walls. She noted the family pictures, all marking the passage of time, which hung loosely upon the wall. Her eyes focused on her wedding picture, she was smiling, but she knew the ache in her heart that day, the need for something more than what she had that day; and than she saw his emerald eyes looking expectantly up at her. She was equally aware of Ron's eyes watching her intently from the corner. The moment stood in time as the other aurors excused themselves.
Finally it was the three of them. Hermione couldn't help it she rushed Harry in a hug. He felt so real. She felt her hands reaching all over. His back, his shoulders, his silky hair; all of it was him. She took his face within her hands, “It's you. Oh gods, it's really you.” Ron had moved closer to them and Hermione backed away from Harry.
Ron hugged Harry back, “It's good to see you mate.”
“It's good to see you too.” Harry said. Hermione let out a small gasp, to hear his voice again. “Both of you.” He added with a nod toward Hermione. They all moved in together each taking the others hand, until they were whole again.
”So where have you been mate?” Ron asked Harry.
“I don't know. I don't remember.” Harry answered with a sad voice.
Sirius Black sat at the table in his living room. Strewn across the small oak coffee table were books and journals. The rest of his house betrayed the life of a confirmed bachelor. He never remarried, although he had been cleared years ago, before Harry even went on his final battle, he could never quite shake the bad guy persona. However, that did not make him unhappy. He had a happy life he had his friend, Remus Lupin, and he reveled in watching Hermione and Ron raise their family. Perhaps it was a little voyeurism, but he knew it was what Harry would have wanted.
Sirius sat back onto his couch after taking a sip of his coffee and began reading his journal on ancient lands and prophecies. It wouldn't be long before people wanted answers, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be there when people found out.
Harry had fallen asleep after a few minutes of talking to Ron and Hermione. Whatever he had been through had taken its toll on him, though the Medi-wizards said he would be fine. Hermione was relieved to hear that Harry's reappearance was to remain top secret. Ron sat in the kitchen watching his wife as she cooked a simple vegetable soup.
“Today was supposed to be special,” he whispered.
“It is special Ron.”
“I meant- well I think you know what I meant. I had dinner planned and everything.” He paused and than quickly added, “Don't get me wrong, heavens know I am glad he's back after all, it is not like this sort of thing happens everyday.”
“I know Ron.” Hermione sighed, thoughts of a time gone by and many untimely deaths ran through her mind. ”Believe me I understand.” She said as she added the chopped carrots to the soup.
“I'm going to Sirius's house. I'm going to help him with his research. The sooner we know what happened, the sooner Harry can begin his life.” Ron finally said after a long moment of silence. He got up and kissed Hermione on the cheek before apparating out of the house.
Hermione let out a sigh; it had been hard to keep her feelings to herself while he was about. At this moment all she wanted to do was watch Harry, just to be sure that he would never disappear. She turned the soup down to boil and walked back into the parlor where Harry slept. He looked so young with his glasses off, though this was something that everyone in the Gryffindor common room had noted when they were at Hogwarts. But he had aged, wherever he was, his hair was beginning to grey above his left temple, and small laugh lines surrounded his eyes. This ruled out any possibility that he had been trapped in some sort of time warp, if so he wouldn't have aged. Hermione bent over him and covered him with a blanket. As she sat down, he opened his eyes and Hermione smiled.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
To that Harry smiled, and took Hermione's hand in his own. He looked at the ring on it which marked her marriage to Ron. It was a small heart shaped diamond surrounded by a circle of rubies. Hermione secretly thought Ron had bought one like this to compete with the one she wore from Harry.
“He picked out a good ring for you.” His smile was bitter sweet. “But we both always had your best interest at heart.” She could feel her eyes welling with tears. He was so considerate, even after everything.
“Harry-“
“So tell me about your family. The boy and girl in the picture over there- are they your kids?” Hermione nodded, biting her lip.
“In the boy it's obvious, but he wasn't blessed with your eyes like the girl was. What are their names?”
“Rebecca and James” Hermione saw Harry look up slightly at what she had just said, an unasked question in his eyes.
“Yes, we named him after your dad. It was Ron's idea actually.” She said. Harry sat up and made room for Hermione on the couch and motioned that she sit with him. He held her in his arms.
“Harry, do you think we could just sit for awhile, and not talk? I just want to feel that you are here.”
“Alright love, it's fine with me.” Harry said, brushing her hair away from his chin.
A/N: This pace of this novella will be as quick as possible. This story as stated above is not about the frill, but about emotion. I was prompted to write a sequel to the letter on the HMS Pumpkin Pie and the idea stuck.
Close to Grace
This story is about love, but not about romance. This is about what a person will do to ensure the people he loves will remain safe. This is the story about sacrificing everything to receive nothing. This story is about the search for something more, but mostly this is a story about walking the line between sin and grace.
Chapter 2: Believe
“Where Romeo never dies, and Juliet - she never cries
when you think its all over, I'll look with a smile
cuz Romeo never dies, Romeo never dies”
Where Romeo Never Dies Written By Peter Vale and Billie Myers
Ron Weasly felt the air nip at the edges of his cloak. He knew this day would come, the day of reckoning when he would have to atone for his sins. He had once been the best friend to two of the most wonderful people in the world. Both of whom he called his best friend, until he betrayed them both. It wasn't like his intentions were bad, in fact it was all obvious what was happening, and really it was just history repeating itself. At least that was what Sirius had told him…
“Listen, you remember that night in the Shrieking Shack don't you Ron? I felt guilty because I did what I had to do.”
“Of course, but-“Ron felt more uncomfortable with every moment. Sirius had never looked as-, well words couldn't describe how he looked.
“Ron, it's simple really, the Potters are the heirs to the Magiviertal. They have powers that we can only dream to receive. If and when, Harry chooses to sacrifice himself, he will be transported to Magiviertal, no questions asked.”
“But what about Hermione and Harry, shouldn't they know?”
“That's the problem, if Harry knows the sacrifice is useless to save the world. Only through complete ignorance can the dreieck power be used to kill the Dark Lord. James is there because he died in a duel with Voldemort; and Lily is there because she, though not a Potter, sacrificed herself to protect her son and be with her husband. There was no guarantee she would be allowed in Magiviertal, but I have heard tale she is there.”
“Sirius this sounds like one big myth! You are asking me to stay out of the battle with my best friend, break his heart, and hope that he saves the world because of an action prophecy?”
“Ron, all I am asking you to do is believe. If you could have saved Ginny, would you have?”
Ron felt as if a thousand bludgers had hit him in the kidneys. The grief inflicted upon his family after Ginny had been murdered was horrible. The boys had gone out, for a game of Quidditch and his mum and dad were away in London. Really it was no ones fault, but Ron knew he shouldn't have left her alone. She was murdered by the Dark Lord, and his Mark flew over the roof of the Burrow for what seemed like centuries. Ron closed his eyes to the tears threatening to come.
“Of course I would. But this is different.”
“How? Listen, I am asking you to think about it, nothing more, and nothing less.”
Ron had done what Sirius had asked, and the more he thought about it, the more he could justify it. After all, Harry's fate was guaranteed, where as Ginny's was not. Ron would never know what became of his little sister. And as much as he loved Harry and Hermione, he could never understand their relationship. Either they were lying about how close they truly were, or they truly were the most ignorant people in the world. And then the moment came; the one that cemented Ron's decision. Late one evening, after serving a detention with Snape, he found Harry kissing Hermione in the corner of the common room. They didn't even notice that Ron had opened the portrait. Ron felt his heart was breaking slowly. He loved Hermione, and somehow he always thought they would end up together. And so, he gambled in a game of manipulation and eventually Harry left to go on his noble quest. Ron had trouble convincing Hermione it was okay and all for the best. When news came of Harry's death, Ron had consoled Hermione (and himself) by convincing her it was his destiny and Harry knew it before he left. But that in itself had been an odyssey.
But Hermione never knew about Magiviertal or his secret plans with Sirius Black. Now it was time for Ron to talk to Sirius, before the secrets broke out. Harry had to go back, if only so Ron could save his marriage.
Harry ate quietly, unsurprisingly words were hard to find. Hermione told Harry about her job, she was the chief editor for Quills in Action Publishing Company. A job she absolutely loved. She could work at home and still learn all she wanted to. Hermione watched Harry watch her. She saw his eyes holding a melancholy she felt in her heart.
“Harry, we have to talk about this you know.”
“Talk about what?” He asked, tearing a piece of bread apart.
“About this,” she said, motioning with her hand, at the room. “I know you are upset, you forget, I can read you like any of my books. But I don't know why, and I'm not sure you trust me enough to say.”
Harry looked around; he hadn't lied when he said he didn't remember where he had been. But he also knew why he had left. He had left so she could have all this. He had left to fulfill his destiny. So why was he back? Had it all been a dream? No, he remembered her letters, letters left at his grave in Godric's Hallow. His grave. That was a sobering thought. He thought that he had died, he remembered what it felt like. Yet he was living and breathing right across from Hermione.
“I don't know Hermione. I mean this is all a bit surreal. Here I sit across from you, and yet I remember dying. I remember the day I left you. And you sit there as if nothing has happened. And I completely understand that as well. I can only imagine what its like for me to just appear out of thin air into your life again. It's what you wished for in your letters-“ Hermione cut him off, shocked by what he had just said.
“You got my letters? How is that, I mean, they were at your grave.”
“I don't know. I just remember them.” Harry shrugged.
“Harry, than you must know, that I love you still.”
“That's what I was afraid of.”
“Sirius, what is going on here? I want answers why is my best friend alive?” Red was quickly streaming into Ron Weasly's face, shading it the color of his flaming hair. Sirius picked up his bottle of Willow Wanderer's Scotch and poured into his cup. His eyes were those of a man who had already had his fill of scotch for the day.
“Back off Ron, one might assume you were unhappy about your friend's return.” Sirius said bitterly. Ron checked himself, and continued.
“Sirius, you know that I am as pleased as anyone to have Harry back. But you must realize his return does present some problems.”
“Like keeping him out of her pants?” Ron pulled out his wand but found himself facing the opposite end of a Sirius' wand before he could even raise his own. “Hah, I knew it. You are jealous of your best friend and always have been!”
”I didn't come here to be on the receiving end of your insults Sirius. I just want answers.”
“Answers that I have already said I do not have at the moment. Just because I knew the prophecy does not mean that I could predict the outcome.” Sirius said, slowly putting his wand back into his holster, and taking a long sip of his drink. Then he cleared his throat and spoke.
“Now listen to me. I don't know why Harry is back. The prophecy was clear that he was to sacrifice himself and gain passage into the Magiviertal. Past that no one knows, the other half was never found.” Sirius paused, running his hands through his hair. “However this may wreck the way things are now, I cannot say that I am unhappy in seeing him.”
Deep within the recess between space and time, in the misty spaces of the Magiviertal a man within shadows waits for his assistant. “Milord, I have come with information concerning the Potter.”
“Speak Cassandra, and please make it quick. The fates are determined to torment me with a headache today.”
“He has arrived on earth. The Gatekeeper is not too pleased with his arrival. And the Messenger is unsure of the repercussions of this task.”
“Cassandra, please tell me something I did not know. This was all to be expected.” He said losing his patience.
“The Potter has forgotten this place. It will be some time before he will remember what he must do.”
“Yes, well his eagerness to take the mission did cause a few problems. If he had waited than he would not have this amnesia, however The Potter and the rest of the Eternal Guild do seem to be a mettlesome group.”
Cassandra stood watching him with her olive shaped eyes. She could feel the Master's eyes wandering over her body as he often did.
“You may leave now Cassandra.” He said and watched as she flounced out of the room, her tight brown curls bouncing with every step.
Cassandra knew the Master liked her. Odds are she shouldn't have been chosen to come to the Magiviertal, but he had chosen her out of all the other recruits…
January 21, 2000
“Honestly, I can't believe that he did that Irene. I mean, I know I should have read the text, but seriously, to pick on me like that was absurd. Yeah I'll talk to you later,- mhhmm. Okay- Yeah- Bye.” Cassandra folded her handy and put it into her purse and got out her flat keys. Finally finding them, while balancing a coffee and her purse in the other hand, she made her way into the flat. Setting her coffee on the table she switched on the light to see a man sitting in the corner.
“Wh- Who are you?” She faltered. If only she hadn't gotten off the phone with Irene so quickly.
“Good evening Cassandra. I am here on behalf of the Guilds of the Magiviertal. My name is the Master. First off I mean you no harm. Do you believe in Magic?”
It took some time for him to convince her that magic was real. She was a skeptic, her logic that had helped her achieve a complicated math major did not like to believe in abstract concepts such as magic. Magic was for the fairy tales and Disney stories.
“Okay, I believe, but what does this have to do with me, I am a Moggle as you said.” She said with a voice that did not seem her own.
“You are a muggle, though more special than all that- Let me put it this way, you are gifted. If you were not you would not see me at all. At the dawn of civilization the gods gave man the chance to control more than the simple things of the universe. They gave men the chance to control magi, the source of magic. They soon learned that few could handle the full power. In fact it was only four families to be precise. The four families vowed to take it upon themselves to see how much power was given to the others. A hierarchy of sorts was created. The lowest of all humans were those who could not perform any magic. Next are the Sadinoha, that is what you are my dear Cassandra. Sadinoha are sensitive to magic. However, they can not perform any kind of magic including: spells and potions. After the Sadinoha come Squibs, who cannot perform spells but can, after some work, perform potions and some simple spells. Next: regular wizards, who can perform spells, potions, divination, herbology, and various other forms of magic. The ones I mentioned before are all well known branches of magic except for the Sadinoha, for they are not mentioned to the wizarding world. This is also true of the following. The Gatekeepers were given special powers by the families of Magiviertal to guard the gates and allow passage into the Magiviertal. Then there are the families themselves, who are known by the names: Eternal, Phoenix, Trilhall, and Samson Guilds. The members of the Guilds can channel magi into magic in ways that few even dream about. Basically the Magiviertal is the spring source of magic. However, the Sadinoha are needed in the Magiviertal because they, combined with this spring source are excellent diviners. And you Cassandra are next.”
Cassandra never knew why she agreed or even what her job would entail, but she enjoyed the romanticism of it all.
So she had learned. She left her life in England behind, letting her family think she had died was difficult, however something told her it was the right thing to do. And she had seen the good. The other Sadinoha and herself had divined the end of the Dark Lord's terror and had been successful in convincing the Messenger and Gatekeeper to approve of the Potter's decision. For 18 years peace was known in the Magiviertal. The members of the Guild were happier than ever. But all that would change.
“What do you mean, `that's what I was afraid of `?” Hermione asked, anger rising to her cheeks. She felt like the ground was falling out from under her.
“Hermione, I died 20 years ago! 20 YEARS! I loved you, but like you said, I knew I could not commit. And now, more then ever, I feel even less able to commit. I don't know what happened to me.” Harry's eyes had fallen to the ground in embarrassment. But Hermione could not understand why, surely there was more.
“Harry, I don't care about that, you are here and you are real. What more could I ask for?”
“What about your family Mione? What about them? You used to know what I would have given to be with my family. What about your children?”
His words hung in the air. She loved Harry, no question about that. In fact she had once loved him enough to consider breaking Ron's heart, though, as she had thought often, it might have been better for everyone involved if she had done it 20 years ago. Now it wasn't just her life and his, but that of her children.
“I don't know right now, OKAY? I just know how I feel right now.”
“And believe me, Dear heart, I love you; unfortunately I know you won't forget that.” Harry got up and walked around the room, looking at the pictures that were displayed in her parlor. She had once taken great pride in the photographs of her family. She had been so proud to have children, to think that they were formed from her own flesh. She had documented their lives. James' first step, and Rebecca's first birthday, all the special moments lined the walls. And sprinkled between the photos were photos of her and Ron; and, though painful, Harry. Her son was almost the same age as Harry was the last time she had seen him.
“Your right, naturally, I need to think of my children.” She said brushing stray tears from her eyes. “I need to get some fresh air, “she said, frantically reaching for her coat. “I'll be back later, if Ron comes back while I'm gone, just tell him that I needed air. Fresh air!” She said as she slammed the door shut behind her.
Hermione let herself wander in the cool air that bit her cheeks. She knew Harry was being logical, which did not help the situation any more then her refusal to see to reason. She loved him. And she loved her family. And Harry had been right, she should do whatever it takes to keep her family in place. But Harry was right, she could never forget if even in a thousand years how it felt to be loved by him. She knew she was a glutton for pain, which she honestly did not need to deal with again. Her love for him had almost killed her many a time. Until finally, that devotion consumed her.
Sitting down at the fountain at the edge of town, she looked up at the stars. So many of them, always there, always reliable…
“A penny for your thoughts?” Harry asked brushing his lips upon her fingers that were entwined in his hands.
“I love you.” She said, sighing into his shoulder. She could feel him go rigid at the words. She knew what his problem was, he was worried. The Dark Lord had been remarkably silent in the last few weeks. Tensions were rising and Harry was becoming more anxious about his future.
She turned to look at him, and he looked straight into her eyes.
“You know, I might not always be here. But, these stars always will. And like these stars I will always love you.”
Harry fell into a restless sleep. Images of Hermione's tear stained face mingled with that of Lord Voldemort's sneer. He was walking through mist toward a gate, Sirius was there and he unlocked the gate for him. And his mother and father were there to meet him. And it was wonderful. He remembered the love he felt surrounded by, and the power he had. But he did not have the power to stop Hermione. He was trapped in his own private prison, one that he chose, watching his love move on. Except she never moved on, year after year, he watched her go to his grave, and leave behind a single white rose and a letter. A brown haired angel would bring him the letters and they would make him cry with regret. He had wanted to be with his father and with his mother, to finally know what it felt like to know their love. But he had sacrificed her love.
“Hey, what are you doing out here love?” Hermione started and looked up to find Ron standing over her.
“I was just thinking.”
“May I ask what you were thinking?” He asked sitting down next to her.
“Nothing much, just about how lucky we are, and,” she paused. “How lucky Harry was.” She paused, turning away. “Did you and Sirius find any answers?”
“No”
“Tomorrow I will go and help. I know you mean well, but you aren't the most patient. Maybe you can do something with Harry.”
“Yeah, maybe. I think Sirius wants to spend time with him tomorrow; do you want to go out? Just the two of us?”
“Sounds great,” she said, turning back to Ron and kissing him on the cheek.
“Can I walk you home, my dear?”
“Sure.” Hermione took Ron's proffered hand and they walked toward their home, both secretly unsure of what was to come.