You stare at yourself in the mirror, and with a sigh you turn out the lights. You walk to the living room and you plop yourself on the living room couch. You sit there, watching the clock, waiting for the man you love to walk in the door with your beautiful baby. You get excited. 'My husband is coming home,' you sing tonelessly. It sounds like your cat yowling and you laugh. Your laugh sounds like bells, and you play your husband's horribly ridiculous laugh in your mind. And you laugh louder at the noise you love. You think of all the times when you saw his face in Hogwarts and for six years you loved him with all your heart. And then he magically ended up loving you too. And you too kissed and you two loved. And you wish that he would come home so you could shower him with kisses because for some reason you miss him more than usual today. You wait longer, and you become frustrated. You call your sister in law Ginny and you moan to her how your husband hasn't come home yet. She's oddly quiet, not something she's known for. And when you call her out on it, she sniffles and begins to sob. She hands the phone to her husband, your best friend, and he tells you that Ginny's pregnant with her third child. You squeal with glee and grin, 'Does he know?!'
Harry is silent for a second, and then he replies in a soothing voice, 'I believe he does.'
And you're happy, and you laugh in joy. Your friend's laughs are only little peeps next to your own laugh. You don't realize something is wrong. You barely have a care in the world.
And after a time of your laughing, you send your love to the kids and you can almost see Harry frowning into the phone, 'You have a nice day 'Mione.'
You feel ecstatic, you forget that your husband is taking longer than he usually did. You just think that he's stuck in a meeting. You decide to grab a book and snuggle up next to the fireplace like you used to at Hogwarts.
After a time your ears hear a key being jiggled in the lock and you jump up, your elated that your husband's home. He opens the door and whispers, 'Hermione?'
But that's not the man you remember marrying. That's not your husband. But he's holding Rose, and a boy with white blonde hair is holding his hand.
That's not Ron. You scream. Why is Malfoy in your home? Why does his hand bare the identical twin of your ring? He puts Rose down and hugs you, 'No no no. It's okay Hermione. It's okay.'
You whisper, 'Malfoy, where's Ron?'
His grey eyes darken, 'Hermione...'
And you remember. Ron's been gone for ten years. Today is anniversary of his death. And as your new husband holds you, you imagine it's Ron. And when Draco (you must remember you call him that,) your husband, kisses you you think of Ron's kiss that night when you both confessed your love to each other.
Today is the anniversary of Ron's death, this day, every year, you wait for him to come home, but he never comes.
You are greeted by your new husband every year, and you think that he will magically turn into Ron. Don't you see Hermione? Ron's gone. He's gone forever.
You are left with this day, you are left with your daughter who bares everything that your husband looked like, and a son that bares all the traits of your new husband. You are left, shaken.
You don't love Draco Malfoy.
You love a man who is gone.