Chap 9 - Rememberance

Hermione loved Sunday mornings. It was the only day of the week that she could relax. The rest of the week she was in the office: organising, attending meetings, sitting through paperwork...Yeah, Sunday mornings were the best.
Hermione spent her Sunday morning in the lounge...slash library. She kept all her historical diaries and books in this room. This was her sanctary where her passion for history was kept alive. Since before she attended Hogwarts, history was her favourite subject, one of her ultimate passions. Twelve years later, she was still sitting through the past in this room, trying to find out the real truth, especially about the magical world. Her husband was very helpful in this area. Ronald Weasley had been born and raised in the magical world but even though Hermione knew more about Magical history than Ron, he still helped with the stories that he heard when he was still in his mother's household.
Hermione had a mug of tea clasped between her hands as she scoured the shelves for something to read this morning. She stopped suddenly, smiling fondly. She withdrew an old, tattered and dusty book and made her way to her comfortable wicker chair. Setting her mug of tea on a table beside her, she gently blew off the dust that settled on the book over the years. In dull gold lettering, Hermione could make out the title of this old book - Hogwarts: A History. Her smile broadened as she remembered all her years at Hogwarts. How she missed them so. All her adventures with Ron and Harry...her classes...She stroked the book fondly with one hand. But her other hand was twirling a ring around one of her fingers.
Hermione was never the one for rings. She only wore two rings: Her engagement and wedding ring that she received from Ron. The other ring, however, was a heavy-set silver ring that was on her right hand. A serpent was etched beautifully onto it, bearing the crest of someone that was neither from Ron or Hermione's family. Hermione had convinced Ron that it was a dragon, else he would suspect...
Hermione was in the Great Hall, tending to the wounded. It was just after the war. Many casualties had cursed wounds and jinxes that still needed to be broken. They all gathered in the Great Hall of Hogwarts to be healed. Hermione Granger was now fervently filing through a thick book on her lap, a small cauldron was mounted above a small blue flame in front of her and a small bag of ingredients lay beside her. Taking the book off her lap, she tended to her patient. Hermione put a wet cloth to his forehead, speaking softly to him. His face was ashen, but dirty. A large cut was slashed across his cheek and his white blonde hair was a mess. Hermione did her best to smooth it out.
She would not forgive herself if he didn't make it.
Silently wishing that the potion would hurry up, she took another wet cloth and dabbed the slash on his cheek gently, careful not to cause too much pain to wake him up. She thought of how her world would change if she lost this young man...No! She was with Ron now. She had loved Ron for at least a year, even if it was secretly. She couldn't change back so drastically...
She gasped as she smelt the familiar fumes from her potion, signalling that it was ready to serve...

"Ah, Drakie," Pansy moaned as she slipped into the bed next to him. Draco Malfoy took off his glasses and set the book down on his lap. "Why don't you take break, love," she continued in a soft voice. Draco sighed. It was a Sunday night, the end of the day that was meant for rest. Instead, Draco had made himself busy preparing for a case for the afternoon the next day. Draco Malfoy was a lawyer, in aid to help Magical beings from being prosecuted. Even if his fees were expensive, paying for his two holiday homes in Taihiti and Seychelles, he was a very good lawyer, one of the best.
His marriage to Pansy Parkinson, however, had pleased his parents immensely. Draco had known that Pansy had loved him during their time at Hogwarts and he even considered her for a future partner after...
Draco shook his head slightly and pinched he bridge of his nose gently. He'd prefer not to think about it.
He put his book on the bedside table after inserting a bookmark, and folded up his glasses neatly on top of it. He also picked up a ring from the table that was glinting in the candlelight. He slipped in on his right middle finger before snuffing out the candle and settling down in bed.
Pansy voiced her happiness with a quiet moan, and laid her dark head on his bare chest, her hands placed neatly beside her head. Draco lay on his back, shadows from the curtained window dancing on his paleskin. He kept on twisting the ring on his finger. It was copper red, manupilated it into a bold lion. It was not of his family's insigna, but from whom it came, he had not spoken to in twelve years...
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, was probably the most welcoming sight yet. He wished at that moment that he could wake up to such a sight each and every day.
"Oh my goodness!" The wonderful sight of Draco's eyes cried, bringing a faint smile to his face. "I never expected it to be working this soon! I can't believe it actually worked! It's been three years since I last made it, I can't even remember what level I got for it. No doubt Professor Snape gave me something way below my standard - "
"'mione," Draco murmured softly, stopping Hermione's babbling.
"Oh my goodness," Hermione repeated softly, cupping his pale face with her hands, her big brown eyes boring into his cold ones. "How are you feeling?" she asked in hushed tones.
Only then did Draco feel the sting on his cheek, the incredible pain that he felt in his back and on his right knee. "I'm feeling great," he lied softly, his smile widening slightly. For a moment, they looked in each other's eyes...Hermione broke it, her cheeks turning a light pink. She turned her attention to a brown satchel, rummaging in it to keep herself from getting into another awkward situation.
Draco sat up, wincing once or twice and bent forward to relieve his back a little, trying not to let Hermione show his weakness. Looking around him he asked Hermione, "Where are we? This looks vaguely familiar."
"We're in the Great Hall, Draco," Hermione said tartly, pulling out a few herbs and a beaker. She began mashing the herbs with a stick. "We're using it as a hospital wing to treat casualties."
"So it's all over then," Draco whispered so that no one could hear. Straightening his back, he winced once or twice and made an absent noise of pain. Hermione looked up sharply before her eyes became soft and going back to her task.
Draco looked around him again, noticing the rejoicing ones, relieved that the war was over. He also saw the ones that cried over immobilised bodies. He saw the Weasley famly huddled around an unmoving body. Most of them bore grim expressions, or tears. If the body was alive or dead, Draco did not know: his face was being turned aside by a firm yet familiar hand. Hermione was taking a flat stick and was smearing some of her herbal paste onto Draco's cheek. He grimaced, struggling to keep his emotions under control: Draco and Hermione were close, so very close. He could smell the perfume under the blood and grime on her skin. He felt her breath on his face as she patted the gauze ino place and secured it with some plaster. Each touch on his face stirred up memories that took place in a dimmly lit, empty classroom...
She drew her hand away. Draco resisted the urge to grab it. He looked into her eyes again, very serious. He knew that nothing would ever happen ever again between them, so he had to make sure that she wouldn't forget about him.
"Here," Draco whispered gently. He took off a ring from his right forefinger and placed it in her hand, closing her fingers around it. "Take at as a reminder. Of us."
Hermione's eyes widened, filling with tears as she looked down at the ring: it was silver, thick and heavy, ingrained with a serpent. Then she, too, took off a ring on her finger: a red copper one with a lion in its main form and placed it in Draco's hand. She rested her head on his shoulder, finding the familiar crook between his neck and his thin but comfortable shoulder.
"Never forget me," he said softly.
"I promise," she whispered back.