Lament

Sleep well, my Love
Sleep while the night sky weaves her spell
Sleep without pain
Sleep though I yearn to have you near me

Hermione tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear absently. It was habit, done a million times over the years without conscious thought. She felt more than heard her daughter come and sit beside her on the ground.

“Mum, don’t you think you’ve been out here long enough? It’s almost dark and getting cold.”

Hermione patted Rose’s hand absently. “It’s fine, darling. I’ll come back soon, I promise. I only want to sit here for a little longer.”

Rose bit her lip in worry for her mother.

“Just a bit longer. I’ll be there before dark.”

The younger woman sighed in defeat. She knew she wasn’t going to get her mother to budge from sitting on the grave until Hermione was damn good and ready to move.

“All right, Mum. Well, just come back to the house soon,” Rose said, leaning down and kissing her on top of the head.

“I will,” Hermione said absently. She felt her daughter leave and leaned forward to press her forehead against the cold marble of the headstone. She pulled the bundle from her pocket and gently put it on top of the stone. The wind picked up and the air was filled with the scent of rosemary and thyme from the little bundle tied in gold ribbons.

The flames of all you were
Have vanished in the ground
Sweet scented rosemary is scattered all around

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to you,” she said, tears filling her eyes again. “I didn’t expect you to be gone so soon. No one ever dreamed you'd be killed by a muggle thief. We were supposed to grow old together. Thirty eight is not old. You should still be here. You should be walking our daughter down the aisle at her wedding even if you didn’t approve of who she was marrying . . .” She stopped speaking because she couldn’t manage another word through the tears.

“Hermione!”

She turned upon hearing her name called in a rather forceful tone. She blinked back tears and watched Lucius Malfoy coming toward her, picking his way through the gravestones. The wind blew back his still long, still blond hair. The years had been very kind to him and he looked years younger than the almost sixty she knew him to be.

He stopped at her side, looking exasperated with her.

“Really, Hermione, you must come in now. You’re worrying Rose out of her mind. She should be enjoying her engagement party. Not being afraid for her mother’s mental health.”

Hermione sighed heavily. She hated it when Lucius was right. Lately, he was more often than not. He had been amazingly good to her and to Rose over the past few months. The years had changed him drastically and he was no longer the cold man he had once been. He did, however, still have a snide, caustic sense of humor and one of the most wicked tempers when pushed Hermione had ever seen. He was also completely manipulative when it came to getting his way. She didn’t think anything would change that.

He dropped to his knees and arranged himself more comfortably to sit beside her. “I do have some experience in this,” he said, nodding at the headstone.

Hermione nodded. That was true. Narcissa had died shortly after the war. Lucius had never remarried and still saw to it there were fresh flowers on her grave every few days.

“Does it ever stop hurting?” she asked, looking at his profile in the fading light.

“No. But the pain does . . . fade with time,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Come. We’ll miss Scorpius and Rose opening their engagement gifts.”

Hermione nodded and put her hand into his, allowing him to help her to her feet. She looked sadly at the tombstone in front of her. Thinking of how this whole day should have been completely different. Ron should have been there arguing and complaining about how bad it was that his only baby girl was marrying a bloody git of a Malfoy. It felt as though someone was trying to tear her heart out of her chest.

I love you now as I'll never love again
The rocks beneath my feet
Have sunken deep
Earth to earth
My love my own shall be

“It just . . . seems so . . . so unfair,” she said, tears starting to creep down her cheeks again.

“Life is rarely fair,” he said, gathering her against him and letting her cry.

***Author’s Notes***

The song used in this story is Gypsy Lament by Inkkubus Sukkubus. This one just hit me out of the blue. No idea why.