The Edge of Nowhere

Epilogue

The idea for this Epilogue came from an old black and white film, The Ghost and Mrs Muir with Rex Harrison. Worth a watch on a rainy day.

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'When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats'

Hermione smiled as her fingers traced over the page that held the verse.

"Mum, you haven't eaten a bite of breakfast, not even the toast this time....Mother?"

Hermione sat in her room, their room, rocking the hours away staring out at the wild Atlantic sea. A lone book, The Works of W.B. Yeats, her constant companion now. It was his favourite. He would read to her from it sometimes, here in their rocking chairs.

Her daughter, or one of them anyway, pulled the blanket up over her mother's lap and draped her shawl around her shoulders.

"you'll catch your death sitting in front of these bloody windows all day. I don't know why you and Da kept this house. You have all the money in the world and could have lived anywhere...Mother? You simply must eat to keep up your strength. I'll leave the tea. At least drink that, Mum. I'll make your favourite for lunch, fish stew...Mother?"

Jean shook her head in frustration and carried the tray out the door muttering, mostly to herself. Fish stew wasn't Hermione's favourite but she always said it was because it was the first meal she had with Severus.

"She's right, you know. You must eat, my dear."

Hermione smiled when she heard his voice again.

"Good morning, my love. I'm not hungry."

Severus leant against the wall by the window directly in front of her.

"Good morning to you. Jeannie is trying."

Hermione huffed,

"Yes, she can be. Treats me like a child half the time."

Severus folded his arms. An amused smirk spread across his face.

"You know that's not what I meant. She's doing her best to care for you. Stephen's busy with the business and Daphne...well, Daphne is Daphne. How you allowed her to become so spoiled is beyond me."

Hermione huffed,

"How I allowed it? Why Severus Snape, Daphne had you wrapped around her little finger from day one. She always got her way when Daddy was around."

Severus smiled whimsically, looking off into the distance.

"Yes, so like her mother."

"Arsehole."

Stephen Granger St George was their first born. At Hogwarts he had been sorted into Gryffindor. He now sat as president and CEO of St George Enterprises, one of the largest homeopathic and organic health supplement providers in the world, both magical and muggle.

Jeanne Minerva was their second child and first daughter, intelligent, prudent and sensible. A true Ravenclaw. She had been an Arithmancy professor at Hogwarts until her recent retirement. Her own daughter succeeding her in the position.

Daphne Gael, their youngest, had insisted on attending Beauxbatons and the sorting arrow did not hesitate to burst into the blue and grays of Ombrelune house, well-known for the traits of cunning, curiosity and ambition. Daphne was a socialite and jet-setter with the beauty of her mother and the resourcefulness of her father. She traveled the world attending film premiers, parties, the opera and the theatre. All of her husbands, especially this third one, were exceedingly rich.

Severus and Hermione also had nine grandchildren, one of which was Head of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic in London. Another was one of the leading Potions Masters in the wizarding world and oversaw the magical brewing at St George. The rest were just as successful. There were, so far, eight great grandchildren. 

Hermione lamented,

"Our children have children who have children. All with their own lives. I have no more purpose...I'm of no use."

Severus pushed himself off the wall and stood with hands on hips, glaring down at his wife.

"There is not a day in your life when you have ever been...of no use. People have depended on you since you were a child. As an adult the entire wizarding world put their faith in you."

He softened his tone,

"... None more than I."

Hermione gave in to a deep sigh,

"I'm tired, Severus, and I miss you."

"I'm here every day, Hermione. I have been since I passed seven years ago. I do step out while you sleep of course."

"Where do you go....when I sleep?"

"Oh, here and there. Minerva, Poppy and Hooch rope me in as a fourth in their daily poker games sometimes. Mother enjoys a game of Mahjong now and then. Albus loves to frequent the races. Usually having a laugh flying alongside the horses. The other day, demonstrating his disregard, he closed his eyes and shouted, 'Look Severus, I can do this with me eyes closed!' The silly fool veered off course, upset a cart of manure and a whole barn full of animals were sent scurrying for the hills. Merlin, that was one angry farmer."

Hermione's laugh had grown meek of late, no longer the robust laugh he remembered. They had married, had children, grown old together. He was as in love with her even in death as when she had knocked on his door all those years ago. Her hair was white now and her face lined with Time. To him she would always be beautiful.

"You don't let anyone else see you. Your hair black again and those majestic cheekbones, smooth without line one. Sometimes I wonder if I'm dreaming all day or you're really here."

"I'm really here, my darling. I just don't care for anyone else to see me but you. I don't want to be one of those Hogwarts ghost types, floating about the place answering insipid questions."

She chuckled,

"No, I can't see you as a castle haunting spectre."

He came to sit in what was once his rocking chair, next to her. He took the book from her lap, opening it at the place marked by a red ribbon. Of late, it had become her favourite. They smiled at one another. He began to recite,

"When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And love your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you.
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars."

Hermione's voice was weak and melancholy.

"I'm one hundred and thirty, Severus. I'm tired...and I want to hold your hand again. I'm ready."

Severus smiled at his wife, closed the book, stood and stretched out his hand.

"Milady."

The sea breeze blew in through the windows as the sun moved higher into the sky. Hermione closed her eyes for the last time.

Reaching out she took his hand. They walked out over their beloved wild Atlantic and into the clouds...together...forever.

The End