And Ever After (Harry Potter)
Her smart, high heeled shoes click loudly on the flagstone walkway that cuts across the courtyard of Hogwarts. It has been ten years since the war, and the woman walking across the courtyard has finally found something worth being scared about, again.
Class reunions.
Hermione runs her hand agitatedly through her still too frizzy brown hair as she finds a quiet, out of the way bench to flop gracelessly down on. She rummages in her sensible brown purse (a well disguised ‘bag of holding’) and fishes out a crumpled packet of Benson and Hedge’s finest. Her fingers tremble, a little, as she pulls out a cigarette and lights it with some well practiced wordless magic. She inhales, deeply, smiling darkly as she imagines her parents faces if they knew she had taken up this filthy, teeth-staining habit.
You know what their expression would be?
“Nothing.” A voice says, behind her.
Hermione jumps, her wand already drawn and at the interloper’s throat. A smilingly, wide-eyed woman waves at her, supremely unconcerned.
“Oh. Hullo, Luna.” Hermione replies, pocketing her wand. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that...you could get hurt.”
‘Like Ronald?’ Luna doesn’t say as she sits down on the grass next to the bench. She doesn’t have to say anything, really. They both know that Ron’s death is just one of the many tragedies hanging over this benighted event like the thick, choking smoke from a cracked rememberall...oh, that’s right. Neville’s dead, too.
Funny how such things slip one’s mind.
Hermione frowns. Luna is talking.
“...didn’t expect you to show up.” She catches.
Hermione laughs, a short, sharp and bitter sound. “Didn’t you?”
Luna shakes her head, her long, dishwater dull blonde hair catching the light for a moment as it swishes along the grass, suddenly transfigured like so much straw turning to gold.
“No, no. I knew you were coming. No one else expected you, though.”
“You mean no one wanted me.” Hermione replies, snorting. She brushes back her hair, revealing a jagged scar across her cheek, a feature that mars an otherwise quite aesthetically appealing face.
Luna blinks.
“I mean, let’s face it. No one wants to have me around, reminding them of all the things that they don’t have the balls to do.” Or do have the heart not to do, Hermione thinks, bitterly. Her job as an auror was a thankless one. No one wanted to be reminded, after the war, that evil could still exist in their Potter-saved world. When the war ended, Hermione turned into a woman possessed.
No ex-death eaters remained unpunished. No foul deed went unchecked. And no one, either friend or foe, was above the law. Not even Ron.
It was a great feeling, this possession, this utter assertion that you were wholly, utterly right.
A great feeling, possession, but not one that breeds any sort of warmth...
And everyone at the reunion knew that. Her old classmates, her old teachers, Harry and, hell, even her kids, whom she had dragged along and, as per the usual, promptly forgotten-
Luna waves aside both Hermione’s thoughts and the rising smoke from her cigarette with one careless gesture. The dreamy girl’s eyes sparkle as she looks up at the embittered woman. It is Hermione’s turn to blink and she blurts, despite herself:
“You look a lot prettier than I remember, Luna.”
Luna smiles and stands; holding out her hand. “You just weren’t looking, before.”
Hermione, bemused, takes the proffered hand and stands, as well. “Well, there was a war on, you know.”
Luna nods, leading Hermione across the courtyard, but blessedly away from the Great Hall and the thrice-cursed class reunion it housed. “There isn’t anymore.” Luna replies, as flippant as ever.
“Where are we going, then?” Hermione asks, curious. She isn’t entirely sure what’s possessed her to follow Luna, of all people. For all she knows, she could end up being dragged into the forest to look for crumple horned snorcracks...or whatever the hell they were called.
“Away from here.”
And they do.
They walk out the gates, into Hogsmeade and then out of the village, as well. The walk down to the train station and catch the first train out, where to, Hermione doesn’t even think to ask.
She begins to fall asleep on the train and, as she drifts away, she feels Luna’s chapped lips on hers and hears Luna’s soft, distant words against the shell of her ear. “I will possess you, now.”
And with those words, strangely more assurance than threat, Hermione drifts off.
And the train goes on, into eternity.
Class reunions.
Hermione runs her hand agitatedly through her still too frizzy brown hair as she finds a quiet, out of the way bench to flop gracelessly down on. She rummages in her sensible brown purse (a well disguised ‘bag of holding’) and fishes out a crumpled packet of Benson and Hedge’s finest. Her fingers tremble, a little, as she pulls out a cigarette and lights it with some well practiced wordless magic. She inhales, deeply, smiling darkly as she imagines her parents faces if they knew she had taken up this filthy, teeth-staining habit.
You know what their expression would be?
“Nothing.” A voice says, behind her.
Hermione jumps, her wand already drawn and at the interloper’s throat. A smilingly, wide-eyed woman waves at her, supremely unconcerned.
“Oh. Hullo, Luna.” Hermione replies, pocketing her wand. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that...you could get hurt.”
‘Like Ronald?’ Luna doesn’t say as she sits down on the grass next to the bench. She doesn’t have to say anything, really. They both know that Ron’s death is just one of the many tragedies hanging over this benighted event like the thick, choking smoke from a cracked rememberall...oh, that’s right. Neville’s dead, too.
Funny how such things slip one’s mind.
Hermione frowns. Luna is talking.
“...didn’t expect you to show up.” She catches.
Hermione laughs, a short, sharp and bitter sound. “Didn’t you?”
Luna shakes her head, her long, dishwater dull blonde hair catching the light for a moment as it swishes along the grass, suddenly transfigured like so much straw turning to gold.
“No, no. I knew you were coming. No one else expected you, though.”
“You mean no one wanted me.” Hermione replies, snorting. She brushes back her hair, revealing a jagged scar across her cheek, a feature that mars an otherwise quite aesthetically appealing face.
Luna blinks.
“I mean, let’s face it. No one wants to have me around, reminding them of all the things that they don’t have the balls to do.” Or do have the heart not to do, Hermione thinks, bitterly. Her job as an auror was a thankless one. No one wanted to be reminded, after the war, that evil could still exist in their Potter-saved world. When the war ended, Hermione turned into a woman possessed.
No ex-death eaters remained unpunished. No foul deed went unchecked. And no one, either friend or foe, was above the law. Not even Ron.
It was a great feeling, this possession, this utter assertion that you were wholly, utterly right.
A great feeling, possession, but not one that breeds any sort of warmth...
And everyone at the reunion knew that. Her old classmates, her old teachers, Harry and, hell, even her kids, whom she had dragged along and, as per the usual, promptly forgotten-
Luna waves aside both Hermione’s thoughts and the rising smoke from her cigarette with one careless gesture. The dreamy girl’s eyes sparkle as she looks up at the embittered woman. It is Hermione’s turn to blink and she blurts, despite herself:
“You look a lot prettier than I remember, Luna.”
Luna smiles and stands; holding out her hand. “You just weren’t looking, before.”
Hermione, bemused, takes the proffered hand and stands, as well. “Well, there was a war on, you know.”
Luna nods, leading Hermione across the courtyard, but blessedly away from the Great Hall and the thrice-cursed class reunion it housed. “There isn’t anymore.” Luna replies, as flippant as ever.
“Where are we going, then?” Hermione asks, curious. She isn’t entirely sure what’s possessed her to follow Luna, of all people. For all she knows, she could end up being dragged into the forest to look for crumple horned snorcracks...or whatever the hell they were called.
“Away from here.”
And they do.
They walk out the gates, into Hogsmeade and then out of the village, as well. The walk down to the train station and catch the first train out, where to, Hermione doesn’t even think to ask.
She begins to fall asleep on the train and, as she drifts away, she feels Luna’s chapped lips on hers and hears Luna’s soft, distant words against the shell of her ear. “I will possess you, now.”
And with those words, strangely more assurance than threat, Hermione drifts off.
And the train goes on, into eternity.