**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling, nothing to me.
*** Well, here we go, the last chapter of Their Room. *Sniffles* Can you
believe that it's been a whole year since I started this thing?
This is awfully short, I know. But it was originally meant to be an
epilogue. But epilogues just sound so final, don't they? And since there
might be a sequel (MIGHT, not making any guarantees) I thought it best to
just have this be a chapter. There are more notes at the bottom.
Hermione sat up with a start and rolled off her bed quickly, a stack
of books that she had pushed to the foot of her bed the night before
tumbled to the ground. The noise made her stop; she hadn't overslept, she
wasn't late for exams, she was home and Hogwarts had finished giving exams
almost two weeks ago.
With a frustrated groan, Hermione collapsed back onto the bed. She
had been waking up like this every day since her parents had collected her
from Hogwarts. Hermione just couldn't convince herself that she didn't
need to get up so early to make it to breakfast in the dining hall or to
rush off to the library for a few more desperate minutes of study.
She was still adjusting to being home for the summer. Even though
school was officially finished, Hermione still felt that she should be
there completing her exams or taking her OWLs.
She had hated leaving, but her parents had been adamant when they had
finally arrived at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had then brought up from Hogsmeade
where they had taken the train from London.
One look at her mother's determined face had left no hope for argument when
the Grangers had swooped into the hospital wing. Her mother had glared at
Hermione as if blaming her for getting into trouble and then had broken
down into tears. Hermione wasn't use to seeing her mother so emotionally
distraught. Both of her parents lived calm, sedate lives in London
suburbia. The most exciting thing to have ever happened to either of them
was Hermione's being a witch and they had accepted that with open arms.
Neither of the Grangers were known for emotional outbursts, but there was
Hermione's mother, hysterically clutching her only child and asking in a
very shaky voice, just what had she been thinking?
There was a light sound against Hermione's bedroom door and she sat
up again. Crookshanks butted his way into the room, a slice of fat bacon
clamped tightly in his jaws. He jumped lightly onto the bed and dropped
the bacon onto Hermione's pillow while he paused to straighten down a
rosette of his orange hair that was sticking up before he returned his
attention back to his meal.
"Breakfast already Crookshanks?" Hermione purred and ruffled her
cat's fur, nonplussed about the bacon grease staining her blue pillowcase.
The cat made no reply and Hermione slid off her bed once again and
pulled a sweater over her head. She always thought that her father liked
to keep the house a bit too cold, even in the summer. She headed down the
stairs deeply in thought.
She hadn't gotten to see much of Harry and Ron before leaving
Hogwarts. Her parents had wanted to take her home right away; her friends
had only just managed to catch them in the Entrance Hall on their way out.
She hadn't seen Draco since he had left the hospital wing only moments
before her parents had arrived. Not that Hermione had expected him to meet
her parents. She had a hard time picturing Draco politely nodding while
her father explained the mechanics of proper dental surgery, but she had
felt terribly abandoned when he had given her hand a squeeze and then
disappeared behind the white linen curtain. He had seemed almost afraid to
touch her, afraid that she might break. Hermione had almost grabbed his
retreating arm and pulled him back down onto the bed with her to show him
just how far from fragile she really was. But in the few moments where
such a bold act might have been accomplished, Hermione's sense propriety
had reared its head. And Draco had left with things feeling horribly
Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs and passed the large parlor
on the right and headed towards the kitchen where the aroma of breakfast
was already slinking down the hallway to greet her. Not surprisingly, the
Granger's household was as neat and efficient as their daughter. Breakfast
was put out at seven sharp every morning except for Saturday when her
parents would go together for a late morning stroll, thus postponing
breakfast until ten. It had been this way for as long as Hermione could
remember and the schedule was refreshing after half a year away at Hogwarts
where her eating plans depended on her study schedule and the wishes of
Harry and Ron.
"Good morning dear," her parents chorused together as she appeared in
"Good morning Mom, Dad." Hermione replied.
The Grangers were sitting at the kitchen table reading newspapers.
They had long ago discovered that their marriage was a much happier one
when they each got their own copy of the morning's paper rather than try to
patiently wait for the other to finish it. Two identical headlines faced
Hermione from either side of the table. She filled her plate with a
helping of eggs and a few strips of bacon, but she wasn't feeling very
She had already talked to Harry and Ron after arriving home. In
fact, a letter had been waiting for her before she had even gotten there.
Her father had carried her, despite protestations that she wasn't that
hurt, up the stairs to her room and there, waiting impatiently was little
Pig. The letter that the excited owl had brought contained only a few
lines from her friends. But they were heartwarming nonetheless. Harry and
Ron had promised to give her every gory detail of their exams and had added
that studying wouldn't be the same without her color-coded notes. The
letter had brought a smile to her face, as did all the others that had
followed it over the past couple of weeks.
But she hadn't heard from Draco.
But oh, she had heard of Draco. She still got the Daily Prophet
delivered every morning and for several days after her departure, the death
of Lucius Malfoy had made the front cover every day. Her mother hadn't
wanted Hermione to read it, exclaiming that she had been through enough
over that man as it was, but Hermione had insisted.
Headmaster Dumbledore was good to his word for neither Hermione or
Draco was ever mentioned in the paper. At first his death was listed as
unknown. The papers said that he had been congregating with a few friends
for a business meeting in Hogsmeade. God forbid that there be a mention of
death eaters. Eventually the authorities had deemed his death an accident
caused by a rare malfunction in his wand. Hermione had figured that any
malfunction that may have been discovered in Lucius Malfoy's wand had been
added after his demise.
The funeral had been held a few days after she had left school.
Lucius was buried in the family mausoleum that sheltered its ancient dead
on the edge of the Malfoy grounds. The Daily Prophet had reported that it
was one of the most well attended funerals of the decade, second only to
that of Betty Betchel, beloved socialite and founder of Witch Weekly.
Hermione had spent more time that she would admit watching the wizard photo
of Draco and his mother as they sat somberly greeting people that was in
the Prophet the day after the funeral. But the picture Draco had never
looked up from his dismal duty.
After the sensational funeral where Cornelius Fudge himself gave the
eulogy, readers began to lose interest in his death. The Daily Prophet
pushed back articles about his life and unfortunate passing deeper into the
paper; the second page, then the fourth, and so on until one morning,
Hermione could find no mention of him at all.
She pushed the eggs around her plate with a fork, making little
yellow piles. It just wouldn't do to dwell on it, on any of it. She
should spend her time more productively, studying for the OWLs makeup that
she would be taking in another week. Hermione Granger did not pine.
A flutter of wings through the window didn't even make her parents
look up from their papers as the Daily Prophet owl glided towards the
table. But before it could land, another owl, dark gray and large, bowled
past it importantly. It landed in front of Hermione and snapped its beak
at the other owl as if it were intruding. It turned its attention back to
Hermione as the Daily Prophet owl hung back respectively. The gray owl
held out its leg pompously and waited for Hermione to remove the letter
that hung there.
A smile of realization dawned on Hermione's face, she knew of only
one person who would have such an egotistical owl. "Draco," she breathed
as she pulled the letter loose.
"Draco?" Her mother asked glancing at her over the top of the paper.
"I don't remember a Draco," Her father added from the other side of
the table, a trace of vague interest in his voice.
"He's my." Hermione paused because she didn't think that there was a
proper term for just what Draco was. "He's my friend, from school." She
Hermione's mother folded her paper and sent her daughter a
questioning look. But Hermione wasn't going to stay for the quiz. She
grabbed a piece of toasted raisin bread off of a plate before bolting up
the stairs. Her parents exchanged a look and a knowing smile before
returning to their papers.
The letter was written on crisp white parchment, an embossed shield
portraying a fire-breathing dragon marked one corner. Hermione looked
unseeing at the strict print that Draco used. She had been unsure if she
would see it again, but here it was.
I meant to write earlier but things have been busy here at the Manor
as you can imagine. Can you believe all the fuss that everyone has been
going to over his death? And the turn out at the funeral was far more than
I had expected. Although I wouldn't be surprised if half of our concerned
visitors were there to make sure the old bastard was really dead rather
than pay their last respects.
Mother is fine. Everything that Pansy had said was a lie. You were
right. She's better than fine as it turns out. It would seem that she has
become rather friendly with her Quidditch coach over at the club. Friendly
might not be a strong enough term for it, let's just say that my mother has
been participating in some very un-widow like activities. She is taking
Lucius' death very well, so well in fact that if we had stuck him in the
ground, I think she would be dancing on his grave every night. Or perhaps,
even more seedy things with that coach of hers, but I'd rather not dwell on
The lawyers have been hell. No one expected the money and estate to
be transferred to me at such a young age. But I'm hardly complaining.
I've always enjoyed being disgustingly wealthy, and now it's all in my
name. Lucius never trusted my mother with money, so it's not terribly
surprising that almost all of the fortune went to me.
Exams went well. Potions especially, it was hilarious, that nit
Longbottom spilled his potion and melted off half of Snape's robe. Of
course, you probably don't find that funny at all, do you? I can just
picture you telling me not to laugh at Longbottom. I suppose that he can't
really help being an idiot.
I was thinking that perhaps, when you're feeling up to it, that you
might like to come and see the Manor. Stay a day or two if you're willing.
I know what you must be thinking, how can I possibly ask you to come visit
a place known for various inequities and many dark, dastardly plots. But
just think how much fun it would be to have Lucius spinning in his grave.
Just think about it. I have all of our work here. Dumbledore sent
it day after I got home. He's either very smart, or much more crazy than I
had believed. Actually, it's probably a combination of the two. But if
Dumbledore still approves of us working together, how can you not? He is
your hero, after Potter, anyway. Just think about it.
Hermione closed the letter and leaned back in her chair at the desk.
A smile was splayed across her face and she felt better than she had in
days. But going to the Manor? She didn't know if she was up for that.
Wouldn't the pureblood walls rise up and crush her for her temerity?
There was a gentle knock on her door and her mother peered in at her.
"Hermione, this came for you after you left the table." In her hands was
a wrapped package.
Hermione frowned slightly as she took the parcel from her mother, not
knowing why someone would be sending her something. Her mother walked back
out, giving Hermione some privacy.
She pulled the paper off carefully, keeping the wrapped package at
arms length. She knew enough of the wizard world to not trust things at
face value. But as the paper disappeared, she recognized the dark green
leather binding to be a book. Excitedly Hermione pulled off the rest of
the paper and stared at her own name imprinted across the front of it.
Trimmed with crimson and written in gold letters was the title A
Translation and then under that was Volume I of the Gregorius O'Leary
Journals by Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.
She stared down at it in disbelief. With shaking hands she carefully
opened the book and began to rapidly flip through the pages. They were
hand printed; Draco's again, and only filled half the book. The rest was
left open and blank. On the very first page he had written her a message.
"It's only a rough draft of course. We are supposed to be keeping
our discoveries a bit of a secret. But Dumbledore thinks that in a year or
two, we could actually publish. I started working on it as soon as you
left school. I think that it has come out very well."
There was more, just a few more words. Hermione couldn't be sure but
she thought that he had added them on later after much consideration. The
slant to his letters seemed different than the rest of note. Hermione
decided that she would ask him when she got to the Manor, because she had
suddenly decided that she was going. How could she not after all? For at
the end of his message were three brilliant little words.
"I miss you."
There were a few things that I wanted to address that some people
mentioned in reviews. Just a few that I feel deserve an explanation.
As for all the people that complained about my grammar and spelling
(some of you not nearly as politely as you should have). I always stated
that grammar was not a skill that I possess. I think much faster than I
can type, so thus things get muddled and words get misplaced and commas
just disappear. I try very hard to rectify this problem, but I'm only
human. I do have a beta reader, who is only human. And I do use a spell
check, made by Microsoft, darn thing won't even recognize Zen as a word.
So please, people, find something more monumental to be upset over. :-)
A few people asked about the title of the last chapter, He Mele No
Lilo, this is actually the title of a song from the Lilo and Stitch
soundtrack. I couldn't think of a title.the song was playing on winamp..
You get the idea.
Jadrien thought that the love/hate thing between Draco and Hermione
got a little tedious. But I disagree. I love them like that! They'll
never truly get along; who wants a relationship where you're always sweet
and kind? That would get so boring. I see Draco and Hermione as two very
proud people with different ideals; they are going to clash, often.
Things are left somewhat unresolved between them because is any
relationship really resolved? Things just keep going on and on and we
muddle through the best we can.
Another reason why things aren't that resolved is because you have
two people fighting against their emotions. Neither of them wants to fall
in love, especially not with each other. That's why Draco is sweet one
minute and then a complete ass the next; he doesn't know how to act.
A few people have been confused by the together/not togetherness of
them. Let me state, they have NEVER in this fic, been together. That is a
very large step, which I don't think either of are up to taking just yet.
Maybe in the sequel! ;-)
And I just want to say thank you to everyone that has reviewed me! You
guys really made this a wonderful experience. I can't even begin to thank
A special thanks to Vegeta, my beta reader, for putting up with me, and to
Kenzie as well, she always defended me!