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Narcissa fell in love slowly, very slowly, and then all at once. She realised it after Hermione had taken her home in her muggle car for the first time. At first, she had been adamant never to set foot in it, even though Hermione had proposed numerous times before to take her home when they worked late at the ministry, saying apparition when tired was not safe. She wouldn't have needed to apparate if the Manor was still connected to the Ministry, Narcissa had replied, over and over. But of course, the Malfoys lost that privilege after the war. Lucius had died, Draco and his mother only got community service, thanks to Harry. Narcissa had spent her year of probation working as a secretary for Hermione's office, of all places. Tentative trust came after a while, and even a sort of friendship. They had both learned from each other.
Narcissa had feared the muggleborn would never want to contact her again after this interlude, so she finally said yes, wanting to delay the inevitable goodbyes.
Hermione had tapes she played while driving. It was only when one of the songs came on that it hit Narcissa. It had been a year since the final battle. She was not a Malfoy anymore.
Oh, please, don't drop me home
Because it's not my home, it's their home
Hermione contacted her again, of course. She had been struggling with her feelings for a while, feeling drawn to the older woman, but conflicted about it. However, Narcissa eased those worries. Contrary to any logic, it felt easy between them, light. They could talk for hours, and airy laughter filled the air between their bodies. After countless coffees, lunches, and library outings shared, Hermione finally asked Narcissa if she could pick her up one Friday night and take her to dinner. She had been too scared to use the word ‘date’, but Narcissa knew. And as the same song played from the same tape, they both knew. This was love.
Take me out tonight
Take me anywhere, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care
Narcissa had asked Hermione once if she was sure she didn't want kids of her own. Narcissa could not get pregnant again, and Hermione was too focused on her career at first to think of taking time off for a pregnancy and nursing.
Hermione had explained IVF in the muggle world, but it was only for straight couples having troubles with fertility. Narcissa said the magical world was still centuries backwards and same sex couples usually remained childless.
Hermione was uneasy about bringing a child into the world growing up seeing what she saw.
After a couple years, they started to foster magical orphans instead. No more than 2 at a time, they wanted to give them the attention they deserved. Most of them were muggleborns. Some of them still had parents, but were removed from their family due to social issues that the uncontrolled magic did not help. There had been a few happy reunions. Some were kids orphaned by the war, especially at the beginning.
They loved them all, and proudly displayed pictures scattered over their house.
Hermione made significant changes in wizarding laws, gaining political power. Narcissa had helped her temper her passion into more calculated moves. She was now the head of the Wizengamot and had turned down multiple times the offer to run for Minister.
Narcissa went into medical research. After their IVF conversation, something had settled deep in her. She wanted to know more about ideas the muggles had and how they could be implemented and perfected with magic. Hermione helped her understand the intricacies of muggle technology with help from her parents as well. They would visit every couple months and talk about medical advances around a cup of tea. Until they didn't. Hermione grieved her parents by telling stories about her childhood Narcissa had already heard, but she listened, comforted, and helped Hermione find solace in the fact that they all made it through the war and she was able to find her way back to them. Time healed the wounds.
They both had fulfilling careers, but also always promised to make time for the kids, and each other. When Hermione grew tired of politics, they retired, and wrote books together instead. First about both their life’s work, and how instead of fearing muggles, drawing inspiration from them had been a breakthrough for the magical community. The fact that a former Sacred 28 and a war hero muggleborn wrote it together, and actually worked together, and even lived together would be taught in History of Magic a few decades after their time. Then they delved into their other interests, writing books about Arithmancy, Potions, Transfiguration amongst other subjects. And though appreciated among specialists, none of them had as much success as the 1st one. They didn't care. Their house was filled with love and children's laughter and they still danced to their song after their dates.
Where there's music and there's people
And they're young and alive
George was the first of their generation to go. Hermione was surprised he had managed to live a relatively happy life without his brother. Ron had helped, taking his place at the shop, but it never was quite the same. Angelina, the kids, Ron, Ginny, were all heartbroken. She and Harry helped them through it.
Ron didn't last long after that. His younger kid had become a father himself a few years before, and Ron had lived the life Hermione could never have given him, with the house full of redheads, and the stay at home wife, while he went on his adventures as an Auror first, as a sales representative for his brother then. It was hard, the trio becoming a duo now. Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Luna had partied hard in his honour, drinking like they hadn't done in a long time. In the fresh hours of the morning, it was Narcissa who came to take Hermione home and hold her as she cried to sleep.
Narcissa lasted long. Longer than all the witches of her generation. She used to joke that it was being with Hermione that made her soul younger. But one day, she became more and more tired, and they both knew the time was near.
They spent quiet days doing the things they loved in the calm of their house, filled with loving memories. And quiet nights whispering tales they knew by heart and words of love.
Sometimes, just before falling asleep, they played the song that they would slow dance to when coming home after their weekly dates. Narcissa always sang quietly to the words while letting her hand run over Hermione's arm.
To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.
One day, though, Narcissa didn't wake up. Hermione barely managed to send a patronus to Draco before breaking, letting her sorrow take over her whole body. Malfoy found her still in their bed, his mother in her arms, tears striking her face, jaw clenched in a silent pain that spoke more than loud sobs ever could.
He called Harry to take care of Hermione, while he took care of his mother. It was already all planned. His mother had left him clear instructions. She didn't want to be in either the Black or Malfoy vault, even though she knew her son wanted her with him there. He accepted it.
Hermione cried tears she didn't know she still had when Draco told her where the ceremony would be. He had been coming to lunch with his family every Sunday, sometimes staying late as his kids played with theirs. But they never talked about that in front of her. Narcissa couldn't bear the look of pain on her lover's face when they talked about the end. She brushed off Hermione's attempt, saying she would be happy just to stay forever at her side, and it made Hermione content enough to not push. She felt the same. Narcissa knew, or guessed, anyhow, and the double grave she had purchased a few months before her death was the perfect place. It was that small cemetery overlooking the sea in that quaint little town Hermione and her would take the kids on holidays. It felt peaceful. And Hermione allowed the peace to calm her pain. Surrounded by Draco and Harry, she said her last goodbye to her wife.
Most of the kids, now all grown up, had come, and seeing them all here for them, for her , appeased her heart a little more.
But the pain came back. She was nothing but stubborn though, and had promised Narcissa to go on, so she did. She went about the house doing menial tasks, taking care of Narcissa's plants, reading a lot, but not writing anymore. She visited the cemetery and left flowers and refilled a jar with little blue fireballs. She isolated a tad, sometimes allowing herself to bask in memories that made her smile, then cry herself to sleep in an empty bed. Harry and Ginny came by often. They still had a lot of energy and she didn't know how that man was so resilient after what he went through as a boy. She felt tired herself. A sheltered childhood, then a dramatic youth, and finally a fulfilling adult life had exhausted her out.
One day, she put all her affairs in order once more, just in case, as she had done every week since Narcissa left. Later that night, she smiled at the pictures in their room, settled on the bed, and charmed the tape player to play their song on repeat until she fell asleep. For the last time.
Harry found her the next morning. She had texted him the day before that she needed his help to repair something in the house, being vague. She was in bed, a peaceful expression on her face. She held a picture of Narcissa in her hands and one of her blue fireballs was in a jar on the bedside table.
The song was still playing.
There is a light and it never goes out.