Vacivitas

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

It's something that Hermione's always prided herself on having the ability to take. She knows when she's done wrong, and she's perfectly fine making changes to her behavior when necessary. She has no reservations when she needs to apologize to someone. The logic behind accountability is a comfort for her. Knowing that she has no emotional burdens because she's put in the work is a facet of her personality that she personally loves.

But accountability this time is going to be very difficult because now, she's going to have to hold herself accountable for the life she's crafted for herself with Draco Malfoy.

Neville Longbottom.

Ginny Weasley.

Ron Weasley.

"Harry?" Hermione's hushed, cracked whisper sounds foreign to her own ears.

Harry pushes his familiar black glasses up the length of his nose and grins, white teeth almost blinding her as he does so. He's a tad shorter than Hermione and he looks as muscular as she recalls Viktor Krum being. It's shocking, but not as shocking as it is to see him alive.

"The one and only."

Hermione screams. She shrieks, her voice echoing in the Manor as she throws herself at him, her heart breaking and mending itself at the same time. His arms come around her waist and ribcage as hers wrap around his neck. Their cheeks press together as he sweeps her around in a circle. He smells just like she remembers—like treacle tart. All lemon and syrup, comfort and home.

"Let me get a good look at you all," Hermione says through tears. She knows she's sobbing like a bloody fool, but she doesn't think she's ever felt more incandescently happy than at this very moment. She turns away from Harry, looking into the equally emotional faces of the people she loves most. "I can't believe this. I can't—how are you—I don't even—"

"You always did talk too much, Hermione," Ginny laughs, and then she pulls Hermione into a fierce hug. Both girls' shoulders shake from the force of their weeping. "It's so good to see you."

"Good? Are you kidding me?" Hermione cups her cheek in her hand. Ginny looks just as pretty as she was when she last saw her, minus the dirt and blood and grime from battle. Her fiery red hair is loose around her shoulders, and there's a glittering pearl hairclip pulling her fringe back on the side. "This is the best Christmas gift I could have ever received."

Hermione lets go of Ginny and practically leaps into Neville's arms. He's as tall as Draco, with markedly more muscle, so he doesn't stumble as he catches her.

"Hiya, Hermione!" he says chipperly. He looks so much older and defined than when they were seventeen, but he's grown into it beautifully. His hair is as messy as Harry's. "Reckon you've probably had better Christmas presents than little ole me."

"I reckon I certainly haven't." She hugs him around the waist, her head pressing into his chest. He may be as tall as Draco, but his hugs definitely don't feel the same.

Somehow, Ron's hug comes last. And it's...quite the hug. Hermione's too ecstatic to see him to make a big deal of it. He's almost as tall as Draco, if not the exact same height. Thin and toned, without the gangliness that she remembers him having fallen victim to. His hair is so long on top that he has to scrape it back with his fingers just to get a second's worth of clear eyesight. His smile is the same, goofy and lopsided.

Hermione looks up at him, the last memories she has of him flickering past her mind's eyes. The kiss they'd shared so long ago, with water dripping from their bodies and the thrill of another destroyed Horcrux under their belts. It had been everything to her back then.