A Song for Lonely Hill

Epilogue---

Ten years later…

Hermione was shifting pots and pans on the stove, while simultaneously directing eggs around the sizeable kitchen with her wand. It was hectic, as it always was on April the fifth. Hectic, though not unpleasant. She hummed a tune that sounded vaguely like Weasley is Our King to herself while flipping a pancake.

As it hit the pan, her eyes fell on two framed awards side by side placed gingerly above the stove. Both Order of Merlins, first class, both very different times in her life.

The first, Hermione had despised until only a year or so ago. One each had been presented to her and Harry and Ron (It hung at the ministry in honor of him, though Hermione was more than a bit sure that Harry had stolen it.) for their services in the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort. She had never felt she deserved it, never wanted credit for something she had only aided in and not accomplished on her own. It had felt cheap, taking credit for something Harry had done.

But on the other hand, Hermione had always really felt it had been given to her out of pity anyway, and not with any real recognition of achievement. The award had been stowed unceremoniously in a taped box in the back of a closet until Seamus had discovered it and asked her what was inside. Before she could stop him, he had opened it with a gasp of shock that it had been hidden away like this, and insisted that it be displayed for all to see and admire. Hermione couldn't bring herself to say no to him.

That was a year ago. Not long after, she had been presented with her second Order of Merlin: For the wide contribution and improvements in the fields of magical potions and muggle medicine. Notably, the long-awaited, and often slaved-over, invention of The Wolfsbane Potion: Solution the second.

Using a special combination of muggle remedies and similar ingredients from the original Wolfsbane Potion, Hermione had finally accomplished a goal that had been brewing in her mind ever since she had met Remus Lupin at 13 years old. Werewolves, if her potion were to work, could now avoid transformation altogether and live their lives as normally as any other. This all in her tiny flat in London, with gold she had scrounged from every odd job she could find in order to buy the proper tools and materials.

Her heart leaping with what she was sure was success, she had practically zoomed over to Lupin and Tonks' place. (They lived mercifully nearby.)

After what seemed hours of convincing and suspicious words, Lupin had at last thrown caution to the wind, tipped his head back and downed three gulps of it, according to Hermione's instructions. They had waited anxiously for the next night, which was the full moon, Hermione too nervous to return home.

And when the sun had at long last disappeared behind the trees, nothing at all happened. No transformation, no pain, no insanity, no nothing. Lupin, Tonks and Hermione had sat in silence for a long while, digesting what this would mean to the world.

One trip to St. Mungo's later, Hermione Granger's name was once again a sensation. Not only had werewolves been relieved the pain and humiliation of transformation, they had been relieved of the years of stereotype. Literally overnight, the world's hatred and stereotypes of werewolves had evaporated.

She hadn't asked for money, but by Merlin was it given to her. She earned enough to open her own experimental potion development company, with a whole team of employers and scientists at her command. This only led to further breakthroughs. Hermione was at last changing the world, one potion at a time.

Nine months ago Hermione had been presented her Order of Merlin, First Class. Hers. On her own.

Hermione smiled at each award, trying not to burn the pancakes. Now she didn't mind the first one so much anymore.

Her cooking complete, she dumped it all onto three plates on the table, careful to decorate Seamus' with a smiley face. It was his birthday, and she loved treating him.

"Seamus! Jessica! Breakfast!" she shouted up the stairs of her glorious three floor house that she and her husband had bought together. Her call was answered instantly, as she heard two pairs of feet zooming down the stairs all too quickly to be entirely safe.

They both sat down at the table, but not before Hermione had scooped up her five-year-old daughter to give her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Put her down, sweetie, we're starving!" said Seamus in a mock-annoyed voice.

Hermione did so and they began their meal, Seamus reading the paper in his routine fashion. But instead of eating, Hermione played with the gorgeous wedding band on her finger, reminiscing about the happiest day of her life: The day she had married Seamus Finnegan.

He let her love him the way she had never loved anyone. Fully and completely, with her whole heart. She simply couldn't believe that she was so lucky that he would fall in love with her as well.

They had met when Harry had called Hermione to tell her that he had run into an old friend. This was two years after she had broken up with Draco. She and Seamus had hit it off right away, falling in love and getting married just two years later. Six years had passed since that glorious day, and she was thirty-four years young. Hermione still couldn't believe it had actually happened, despite the myriad of pictures that adorned their house, proving it.

Seamus' voice interrupted her day dreams-

"Hey, Hermione, remember Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?"

Her heart jumped a bit, but she replied calmly, "Yes, of course."

"He got married last week! To Daphne Greengrass, that Slytherin girl, remember? Haven't thought of him in years."

She snatched the paper from him, determined to look at this for herself. She felt a bit sick.

Hermione had never told him of her brief romance with Draco Malfoy. What was there to be said? Only Harry and Ginny really knew. And they had never told anyone. Not that Hermione was embarrassed, she just never wanted to think about it. She and Draco had not spoken for years.

"Hermione, are you okay?" asked Seamus, concerned.

"Yes. Well… Actually, I feel a little sick. Do you mind if a lie down a bit?"

"Of course, not go ahead."

She practically ran to their bedroom, her mind stretching to wrap around this unexpected information.

Hermione collapsed onto the bed. The sickness had passed, as had the initial shock of hearing his name for the first time in years. Her eyes took in the shot of the happy couple being pelted with rice at the altar. Draco's face was bright with a light she had never seen there before. He was glowing, as was his new wife. Daphne looked simply beautiful. They both looked simply beautiful.

Hermione waited for the tears to come. She waited for the sadness that was sure to envelop her any second.

Nothing.

In fact, she felt another emotion growing inside her. Something quite different. Was it… Happiness? Was she feeling happy?

Yes. Of course she was. She was feeling happy for someone she had come to think of as a friend. He had finally found someone who understood him, who respected him and who didn't expect great changes of character like she had.

Hermione's face split into a grin, and an uncontrollable desire coursed through her to call and congratulate them.

After all, it was because of him that Hermione had found purpose and success in her life. It was because of him that she was proud of who she was and what she had done on her own.

And it was also because of him that she had learned to let loved ones go. Draco had taught her lessons that she would have never been able to learn herself. Instead of every day regretting the loss that was her best friend Ron, she every day appreciated the good he had done and his profound achievements that had changed so many lives.

Of course, she still missed him. But she had at last accepted that he was gone.

Because of Draco. She owed her life to him.

As if some sort of unholy recklessness had seized her, Hermione threw down floopowder and stuck her head into the fire, shouting, "Malfoy Manor!"

Because she'd be damned if she didn't find a way to congratulate him.

A/N:

Erm… -cough- Yeah, that took a while. What was it, like two months? Three months? I'm so very sorry, and I hope that you haven't completely forgotten about this story. I had some major writer's block, and even thought I knew what I was going to say, I couldn't find a way to say it. But better later than never.

Anyway, the Author's Notes of the 22nd chapter are my final thoughts, but I still have to thank everyone…

Credits-

For the title, a beautiful instrumental song by The Egad Star.

For story inspiration, a song called 'The Shape I Found You In", by Girlyman. (I urge everyone to have a listen. It's amazing!)

Thank Yous-

Hermionestargazer: For your encouragement to continue and your always insightful praise.

Anna: For your enthusiasm, dedication to reading the story, and for always urging me to keep going!

Superelle: For being there since the beginning, and for continuing to review thoughtfully almost every chapter.

Pegasusbabi: For bugging me to continue and being very nice about it when I take long breaks.

Oh snap its brie: For your constant enthusiasm and caring about the characters.

Tigerlilystar: For being always engaged and understanding the choices I've made in the story.

Gwinna: For your elegant comments that made me want to write faster!

Dracoisthesexiestmanalive: For following the characters through to the end, despite the unsatisfying conclusion.

EVERYONE: For reading, reviewing and showing your support in whatever way you did. I truly appreciated every single hit and comment, as they urged me that continuing was not only for my own enjoyment, but for others' as well.

Oh yeah, and I own nothing that J.K. Rowling owns. I just enjoy playing in her sandbox.