We Are the Lucky Ones

We Are the Lucky Ones

Inwitari

She watched as he knelt, a rose to his luxurious lips.

"It was a Monday, when my lover told me,
'Never pay the reaper with love only.' "

Monday. The last battle. Hogwarts was in disarray. Students ran, screaming, fighting, cursing in all directions. The grounds were filled with the stench of death. Across the ashen-strewn battlefield, through the magical fires that had sprouted in spite of the rain, she picked out his face, screwed up in concentration. His mouth hurling curses, his pink cheeks glowing, his hair sticking to his forehead. His bravery astounded her, even now. He begged her not to risk anything for him; his love was not worth it.

"What could I say to you, except, 'I love you' and 'I'd give my life for yours.' "

She'd told him that the night before the battle. She could sense it was coming. She had always been exceptional at divination.

"I know we are: we are the lucky ones.
I know we are: we are the lucky ones.
I know we are: we are the lucky ones, dear."

So many died that day, never knowing exactly how they felt about each other. She could have laughed at the absurdity of it, had it not been so sad. Ron was afraid to tell Hermione how he felt, but not to die. For him, there was nothing more frightening than being rejected by the one he loved. He never told Hermione that he loved her, but she believed that Hermione knew. Hermione had to know when she looked into Ron's eyes as he died, as she held him in her arms. Even then, in his dying moments, he didn't have the courage to speak the three words that she longed to hear. They would never spend the years together she knew they deserved, but Hermione lived on and took with her priceless memories that would last forever.

She looked down at the young man with the rose.

She surveyed as a faultless tear fell from the faultless cheek of her faultless best friend.

"The first time we made love, I, I wasn't sober, and you told me you loved me over and over.

How could I ever love another, when I miss you every day?"

She observed as a flawless tear fell from the flawless cheek of her flawless lover.

"Remember the time we made love in the roses and you took my picture in all sorts of poses?

How could I ever get over you, when I'd give my life for yours?"

She gazed as a perfect tear fell from the perfect grey eyes of her perfect soul mate.

"I know we are: we are the lucky ones.
I know we are: we are the lucky ones.
I know we are: we are the lucky ones.
I know we are: we are the lucky ones, dear."

The short time they had together was marred with war, secrecy, death and despair. They watched as friends and families fell, and remained each other's rock. Each helped the other through the pain. When he put his arms around her and stroked her hair in the way that only he could, her fears melted away... She knew there was no other person she could have wanted or felt so... complete with. When they kissed... it was indescribable. She believed she would burst from the love that welled up in her chest every time she thought of him. The way he looked at her was unmistakeable. They were hopelessly in love.

"My dear, it's time to say, I thank God for you.
I thank God for you in each and every single way.

And, I know, I know, I know, I know..."

"I'm sorry." The young man murmured to the headstone, removing a ring from his wedding finger and placing it on the ground at the base of the headstone, next to the single red rose. "I will always love you."

He turned to face Hermione, who had returned from Ron's grave. He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. Hermione gave a diminutive, distracted half smile as she acknowledged the kiss and began staring at the headstone.

United in their grief, but she could sense the purity and intensity of their love. She knew, and she did not begrudge it or feel betrayed. It warmed her heart to see him happy. This was what she had died for.

"It's time to let you know, time to let you know,
Time to let you know, Time to sit here and say:"

She wanted to see him live. Something she had been unable to do. She longed for him to have everything he wanted. Smiling down at the couple, she knew he did have everything he wanted. Or at least everything he could possibly have. There would always be a part of his heart that belonged to her; and a part of Hermione's heart that belonged to Ron. But... she was grateful for the time they had, the time that so many others had been denied, and she appreciated that she lived on in his incandescent memory.

"I know we are, We are the Lucky Ones.
I know we are, We are the Lucky Ones.
I know we are, We are the Lucky Ones.
I know we are, We are the Lucky Ones, dear.
We are the Lucky Ones, dear..."

The couple turned to leave, hand in hand. The rays of the setting sun illuminated the writing on the headstone as ethereal tears fell from the clouded heavens.

Ginny Malfoy,

Beloved daughter, sister and wife.

1987-2005

The epitome of a hero.