Scattered

Epilogue

The sun was still bright and high in the sky as they crossed the field, the warm summer winds tossing Hermione's hair about like the golden-brown sheaves of hay that filled Hamish's field. Ron put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head as they walked.

"We should have started back earlier, or Apparated," he said. "You're tired."

She shook her head, smiling up at him. "No, I'm not. And you know Auntie Susannah hates it when someone cuts a visit short."

He rolled his eyes, having experienced the sharp end of Auntie Susannah's tongue before.

"Besides, I like visiting with her."

"I know."

They walked on in companionable silence, cresting the low-sloping hill so that the castle appeared below them, still some ways off.

In the two months since Voldemort's death, little had changed on the island, especially after Ginny and Harry had gone. Tonks made a full recovery from her injuries and George continued to improve, though in truth not as much or as quickly as any of them had hoped. Percy and Penny continued to make their way together as all first-time parents do, with wonder and awe and love, as well as with exhaustion. And despite Charlie's teasing disdain for tradition, Molly had found an ally in Joanna and a better-late-than never official Weasley wedding had been held.

Harry and Ginny came back to the island for the wedding. The house Harry had commissioned in Hogsmeade was nearly complete; he brought pictures for them all to see, and it was certainly quite impressive. "I figure it'll help attract attention," he'd said with a smile.

In truth, their real work was slow going. Harry's predictions had been correct. There was little Lucius Malfoy could do to him, publicly. Malfoy's influence, however, still ranged far and wide, and the wizarding population was still cowed from Voldemort's brutal rule. Harry remained focused, however, and was sure that a change would come.

Hermione sighed. She wished they could have had more time together at the wedding, but the visit had ended all too soon and Harry and Ginny had gone back to the mainland. Sometimes she wondered if they would ever all be together again.

As for the rest of the islanders, they had all opted to stay, except for Susan Bones; she'd chosen instead to go to Italy, where her mother's family had relatives. The rest of the ex-Hogwarts students who had come to Liath Cuan had no desire to leave, and the McFustys had made it clear that the island was now their home. A few nights ago, in fact, Hamish had announced that more McFusty families would be joining them soon.

"You all right, love?" Ron asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Of course," she replied. After a moment she added, "Minerva came to talk to me yesterday. She wants me to help her with a spell for finding Muggle-borns."

He frowned. "I thought we... well, I hate to put it like this, 'Mione, but I thought we pretty well knew where all of the remaining Muggle-born witches and wizards were. Here, on this island."

"The Muggle-borns who haven't been born yet. In Britain," she clarified.

"Oh."

"There will be more, obviously. And when those children are born and they start showing signs of magic... Minerva's worried about what will happen to them."

Ron nodded, understanding. "What Lucius might do."

"Exactly. We need to find them first."

"That sounds like a lot of work," he said.

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "Not really. Minerva knows a lot about the spell already; they used a variation of it at Hogwarts, after all. She just needs an assistant, and I want to learn. Don't worry."

Ron stopped and turned to face her, resting his hands on her shoulders. He looked troubled and somewhat anxious.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Can I ask you something?"

She nodded.

"And you won't get angry?"

"That depends on... no, I won't get angry," she amended. "Go on."

He looked at her for a moment and then asked, quietly, "Do you feel like you're missing out on things, because of... us?"

She laughed, puzzled. "Missing out on things? Like what, dating other boys? Ron, I thought I made it clear when I married you that you were the only one I'd ever want."

"I know that," he said. "I really do. I didn't mean other... and I didn't mean us, exactly, I meant us now. Do you feel like you're missing out on... I don't know, doing other things with your life... because we got married so young?"

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "Do you?"

"No," he replied vehemently. "Are you kidding? Sometimes I feel like it's the only thing I ever did right in my life. But that's me, I'm not the one with the gigantic-sized brain. You could be doing anything. I mean, forget about Malfoy and all that, it's a pretty big world. You could have gone anywhere."

"Trying to get rid of me?" she teased. He sighed, exasperated, and she took pity on him. "Oh, Ron. You could have done anything and gone anywhere too. I'm exactly where I want to be. Aren't you?"

"Yes," he answered. "I feel as if... I have everything I want, right here with you. I need to know that you feel the same way, and that you don't regret any of it."

She tugged his head down and kissed him softly. "Silly man," she whispered. "I thought we'd talked about all this already. This is what I want, and what you want. Sooner or later doesn't matter. We're going to be fine, Ron, don't worry. I promise."

He pressed his lips against her forehead. "Do you think it was before the Ministry battle, or after?" he asked.

She laughed. "Well... after was very nice," she said, smiling into his chest. "But the night before... that was impressive."

"Four times," he said with a grin. "Four rather amazing times, if I do say so myself."

"Surely something was bound to result from that kind of performance."

His hands left her waist and wandered down to rest on her still-flat stomach. She looked up at him, her hands pressed over his.

"Ron, I wanted to ask...I was hoping, if it's a boy..." she said.

He kissed her, and whispered against her lips, "...we'll name him Neville."

the end

BIBLIOGRAPHY

The poem "Do not stand at my grave and weep" is by Mary Frye.

Lyrics from Auld Lang Syne are attributed to Robert Burns, first published in 1796.

Background information on the traditions and history of Hogmanay is from Wikipedia, and from http://www.rampantscotland.com/know/blknow12.htm

Liath Cuan is not real, but the Hebrides are (and who's to say there couldn't be an Unplottable Island there...). Information on the Hebrides, some used here in this story, can be found at http://www.visithebrides.com.

The McFustys, on the other hand, are real, at least in canon: they're mentioned in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, as the caretakers of the Hebridean Black dragons: "The wizard clan McFusty, who have dwelled in the Hebrides for centuries, have traditionally taken responsibility for the management of their native dragons." (p. 12)

A FINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE

I began writing this story a year and nine months ago, and I had something big in mind -- but it took several chapters before I'd completely envisioned the whole plot. I knew I wanted to write a sort of "end of the world" story, something that told about what might happen to our characters if they lost the war, instead of winning it as we know they will in the books. I had a plan, and some things ended up just as I'd meant them too. A few things changed, but more just grew out of circumstance.

Leaving Harry out of the first three-quarters of the story was intentional, because I wanted to see how their relationship -- their relationship as people, and as friends, not just in a romantic sense -- would develop without him there to complete the trio. Harry's absence changes their dynamic, not for the better or for the worse, necessarily, but it does change things.

Bill's role in this story was unintentional, in a way; I picked him because he was sort of interesting, but, as of OotP, sort of an unknown. As it turns out, if I'd picked Charlie I would have been able to incorporate even more canon into this fic, but at the same time, it was Bill, the eldest, that I needed -- not Charlie, the adventurer. As it stands, I think that Scattered is remarkably close to canon, for something I started before HBP came out. I'd already written Dumbledore's death; only the manner of it changed. Barring that, the only other misfit is Bill, as here he is not involved with Fleur Delacour, nor has he been mauled by a werewolf. But that's it.

On the other hand, writing about Neville was very intentional. I so adore his character. I think he's one of the nicest, most noble-hearted characters in JKR's world, and I think she pointed that out to us in the very first book, when Dumbledore talks of the courage it took for him to stand up to his friends. I loved his development in OotP and wanted more in HBP. I can't wait to see where he goes in DH, but... I worry, too. Because sometimes, in a story, it's the most noble character who sacrifices everything, for the sake of everyone else.

Lastly, I wanted to mention that there is no sequel for Scattered planned. It was always my intention to leave Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny and everyone else in this story exactly where they are. To me, that's essential to the spirit of the story. Maybe Harry will finally finish his quest; maybe the wizarding world will open their eyes and stand up to Lucius Malfoy's subtle tyranny. Maybe Liath Cuan will no longer need to be hidden. Maybe... or maybe none of those things will happen and life will go on in a different direction. Maybe Hermione will found a new school on the island, and maybe Bill will find others doing the same, elsewhere in the world. Maybe the wizarding world will change into something entirely different as a result. There's no way I can say for sure. The possibilities are endless, and that's what I wanted to end with.

THANKS...

A lot of people encouraged me hugely throughout the writing of this story. I owe a great deal to my friends Sallie and Jay and Rose and Deia. I am also incredibly grateful to everyone who took the time to review -- your comments meant the world to me. I can't say that enough. And to anyone who didn't, and just read and enjoyed, that means a lot, too.

This is longer than the average Oscar speech already, and I can hear the orchestra playing me off. :) But I don't care, because writing this story has been an experience I will probably never repeat. But really, when it comes down to it, I just wanted to say, as always -- thank you for reading.