“I think,” Hermione whispered after several moments of trying to control the growing agitated state of her emotions, “I think that’s why Harry always seems to deny me almost nothing. Oh, I know he treasures me as one of his dearest friends, but he always does his best to see that I want for nothing or that I’m never lonely. He was the one that insisted I be godmother to Lily and the twins.” She stopped briefly, taking several deep, shuddering breaths. “I… I think Harry hopes to make up for losing you, in some small way. He’d known how I’d grown to feel about you, Severus. He didn’t understand it, but he was surprisingly mature about it. But after he’d married Ginny and Lily had come along, Harry truly began to comprehend just what I had lost when you… Well, I think he still blames himself for it.”

Hermione glanced upwards. The sky was still cloudy, but there didn’t appear to be any storm clouds nearby. She felt rather relieved at that, but winced at the growing cramp in her leg. She quickly shifted and straightened out the pained limb. Sighing with relief as the aching began to fade, she glanced down at one of her hands and took note of the grass stains that had appeared. Paying it no more mind, Hermione returned her attention to the marker before her.

“Would you believe,” she asked, “That it was Harry who approached Vanessa Brownwood after she’d shown so much reluctance in taking me on as a Potions Apprentice? I’ve still no idea what Harry said to her, as neither of them would talk, even now. Still, whatever it was, he convinced her. I can still remember how excited I was. To train under the Potions Mistress who had instructed you at one time made me feel better than I had in months.”

Hermione laughed slightly. “Of course, I think Vanessa tried to make me feel absolutely wretched in the first few months, trying to scare me off. But at most, it was just an annoyance. After all, I’d endured your Potions classes for nearly seven years, not to mention being your apprentice for two of those. I think I was rather prepared for any of her little tricks.”

She paused, allowing herself a tiny, but genuine, smile. “Vanessa told me, just roughly a year and a half after I’d joined her, that I had enough experience and knowledge to, as she said, ‘to prevent anyone from blowing themselves to Merlin while the rest of us are trying to get some real work accomplished.’ Such a high compliment coming from her, and in such a short amount of time.”

Hermione absently rubbed the bracelet on her left wrist, her eyes drifting away from the marker. The small bauble had been given to her upon her receiving her certificate of authenticity as a Potions Mistress, a congratulatory gift from Albus and Minerva. It was not overly gaudy, as both had known of her dislike of anything ornate or flashy. It was just a simple silver chain with charms in the shapes of a cauldron, a ladle, a few potion ingredients, and a potion book. She wore it only on special occasions, most especially not when she was working.

“I later asked Vanessa why she gave me the certificate after so little time had passed. After all, it often takes at least two and a half to three years to obtain it. It all seemed rather unusual. At first, she just scowled and said that she could easily withdraw it and have me slave away for several more years. But after a moment, she told me… you had already trained me to almost the fullest extent of my abilities. She had only smoothed out the few remaining rough edges. That I was truly your Apprentice, not hers. Not really. Not in the way it truly mattered.”

Her eyes came back to rest on the marker at that time. Softly, she said, “I have worked at the Ministry ever since then. It hasn’t been as bad as it might have been. With Fudge gone and Amelia Bones in place, things are absolutely shipshape over there. Still, I won’t be there much longer. Albus has offered me the position of Potions Mistress at Hogwarts, starting in the Fall Term next year. According to him, the position of Potions Professor is beginning to go the way of the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. The children need a firm hand down in those dungeons.” Hermione hesitated at that point, unsure whether to continue or not.

As though she had a choice. She’d come this far; it made no sense to stop now, when she had almost finished.

“I met someone at the anniversary celebration last week,” she mentioned quietly. “Blaise Zabini. We ended up chatting for hours, mostly out of the need to be in the presence of someone who was not plastered or shouting at a plastered significant other. Ever since the War ended, he’d entered into curse breaking. He’s ended up working in China, Africa, even in Italy, helping officials retrieve that which the witches and wizards of old had seen fit to preserve in their day. He… he asked me to join him over tea and cake this weekend and I accepted, although, I think it was mostly due to the punch. Fred and George had seen fit to spike it again.”

Hermione licked her lips nervously. “You always said, Severus, that if anyone in your House could be trusted, then it was him. And the sight of him doesn’t make me feel nauseated, like Nott or Crabbe or… Malfoy. Blaise is rather interesting, really.” She smiled wryly. “And besides, I don’t think I’m capable of seeing anyone other than a Slytherin in that manner. You spoiled me, Severus, and now the men from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff just aren’t enough. Would you believe it? The insufferable Gryffindor Know-It-All has a liking for Slytherins. Neither can Ron, believe you me.”

Silence again descended on the area. She had calmed down from her earlier outbursts, as well as from the emotional ride she had been taken on when the memories had threatened to submerge her. As she carefully pushed herself to her feet, she marveled that it would be the first time she would depart from the area with dry eyes.

Taking one last look at the marker, she said faintly, “Life has gone on, Severus. All that the Dark Lord sought to destroy now thrives. Children can now enjoy their childhoods and have the carefree lifestyle people like you and me were denied. Those that fought and lived are carrying on as well, as I told you. But none of us have forgotten those who are no longer with us. We won’t forget Tonks, or Mad-Eye Moody, or any of the others. And we will not forget you. Ever.”

Gently, she brushed her hand over the top of the marker. “I don’t know if this little meeting with Blaise will come to anything. If it does, then that would be nice, I suppose. And if it doesn’t, well, then his friendship will certainly suffice. But still, a part of me died with you, along with all the possible futures you and I had with one another. And now I must go and make a future without you nearby, sneering and criticizing as I had come to count on you to do. But… perhaps, just perhaps, you are still here. Somehow.”

Straightening, she wrapped her cloak around her more tightly. “I will be going now, Severus, but I shall return next year, perhaps with much more to tell you. It is rather nice to come here and not be so completely and utterly overcome by my own emotions. It is rather refreshing to just… talk, and not worry about being judged. At least, not in a way that I can perceive on this level of reality…

She trailed off, shaking her head. “There I go,” she muttered as she turned to go. “Going off on some obscure point and babbling. Incessant prattling indeed.”

Hermione left the cemetery dry-eyed, a small, humorous smile on her face. The wind still blew through the trees, but no longer did it have the harsh, bitter quality she had felt on her journey to the cemetery. It was more light, almost soothing and comfortable. She made her way past the caretaker’s cabin, which appeared to be deserted at that point, and on down the path.

It was the first time she’d ever left the place with a smile on her face. Or the sun beginning to peek through the thick, fluffy clouds.