My Soul Mate

~ EpilOgue ~

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I am not angry with you, I am surprised.

The innocent questions make me worried.

Earlier to live, I had never thought that

I will have to take pain.

If I smile, I'll have to pay for smiling.

If I smile, I feel it's a debt on my lips.

Life your sorrows, have taught me

New relationships.

Whatever I get, I get in the sunshine,

No coolness of the shades.

Those beautiful days...

Who knows when were they lost?

Where are they now?

No point in hiding tears anymore.

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Ten years later...

The weak winter sunrays poured in slanting blocks around seven in the morning through the open windows of one of the magnificent bedrooms in the Malfoy Manor. A chilly breeze blew outside as it snowed heavily - yet the snow didn't enter the room. Muggles couldn't have understood it but wizards knew that the room must have been charmed to keep out the snow. And the room was magically made warm too, even without a fire.

Outside the manor, a gorgeous garden spread around for acres (that were covered with snow). The garden was generally beautiful but it had been only a year since change had come; ever since that year, the garden was in its height of beauty with every kind of flower of every color adorned all around. Wizards must have thought that it exquisite charm must have been brought about by mystical means too. But it was not.

The inside of the Malfoy Manor had changed over the years too. It no longer looked a majestic mansion of gloom and darkness. Instead, it was the center of aesthetic splendor in all of Wiltshire. The interior decoration had changed of course, and to any other person, that would be the reason of the change. But the people living inside it knew better.

The Malfoy Manor had changed since a year ago too, ever since Hermione had come there. Along with her, she had brought a sort of blithe spirit which was virginal to the place. She was the core of the house and was Draco's most prized possession. And with the gaiety of Christmas holidays, she looked merrier than ever.

And as usual, Hermione, twenty-six, was seen stepping out of the dazzling mirrored dressing room and into the sunlit bedroom, in an exorbitant robe of silver, her hair piled carefully on her head and a light shade of rouge on her delicate features. Her right hand was ringed in an equally exorbitant crystalline jewel of diamond. A simple, egg shaped and compound-sided emerald pendant hung five or six inches from the base of her throat, suspended in a tender platinum chain. Apart from these, she had an air of elegance and peace about her.

She looked like a perfectly pleasant woman.

And in the bedroom, Draco Malfoy was tying his black tie under the collar of his black shirt. Many things had changed over those ten years, but Draco's favorite color was still black and when on business, he mostly wore black. It wasn't as though it didn't suit him - he looked extremely virile in his aristocratic manners of dressing, and behaving also. Over the years, Draco Malfoy's appearance had changed too. His features were sharper, older and more mature. He had sort of masculine strength in the air about him, unlike Hermione's softness. He turned his platinum blonde head at the sounds of Hermione's footsteps. His bluish-grey eyes met her amber ones and he smiled fondly.

"So, you're ready?" he asked in deep, masculine voice.

Hermione nodded as she walked towards him kissed him briefly on the lips. But after a second she had pulled back, Draco pulled her to him again and kissed her far more vigorously than she had. His fervor left both of them breathless after a few minutes. Draco put his arms around her narrow waist and stroked her sides slowly.

"Be back before ten o' clock, Hermione," said Draco. "Portbury will be waiting for us in Milan."

"Sure," said Hermione, her tone becoming slightly dejected.

Draco knew very well what had changed her mood but he didn't say anything. Christmas was a week away and like each of the past nine years, he was taking Hermione away from Britain. He took her anywhere she would be away from the Weasleys and Harry Potter, who was still in coma in St. Mungo's in London. Hermione wasn't that close as she had been with the Weasleys and Sirius she was ten years ago, but nevertheless, she gave them gifts each Christmas herself. As a ritual, one week before, Hermione would see the Weasleys, Harry in St. Mungo's and Sirius in the Ministry of Magic, give them the gifts and then go abroad with Draco, Narcissa and her parents. Hermione missed those days she had spent with Harry and Ron in Hogwarts, but over the passage of time, many things had changed. And she had no control over the changing circumstances.

"Come back to the manor before ten o' clock," said Draco for the umpteenth time in days, toying with a curl of Hermione's reddish brown hair. "You and Mother then come to my office. We'll go together to Milan. Hopefully, Portbury will have everything arranged for our arrival. When are your parents coming?"

Hermione's mood brightened. "They'll come straight on Christmas."

"All right. Anyway, be quick. When are you going, by the way?"

"An hour later, I guess."

"Fine. Let's go down to breakfast."

After breakfast with Narcissa and Draco, the Malfoy chauffeur drove Hermione into London. The car stopped outside a large, old-fashioned, redbrick department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. The windows consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew. Hermione (with a huge bag) walked up to one of them and said through the glass, "I am here to see Harry Potter."

A particular dummy nodded and beckoned her with its jointed finger to come inside. Hermione stepped in and vanished.

She entered a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, who Hermione knew had come for treatment for various diseases and accidents. Some witches and wizards, in lime green robes, were walking about hastily, taking notes on clipboards. All them greeted Hermione with a merry, "Good Morning!" All their robes had an emblem on them - a wand and a bone, crossed.

They were the Healers of St. Mungo's.

But not Hermione's colleagues. Hermione was qualified as a Healer, but she didn't work in St. Mungo's. She handled the most delicate and demanding situations, which weren't too frequent.

The wall opposite to Hermione was labeled Enquiries and had numerous posters. One of them said: A CLEAN CAULDRON KEEPS POTIONS FROM BECOMING POISONS. Another one said: ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DON'TS UNLESS APPROVED BY A QUALIFIED HEALER. There was also a large portrait of a witch with long, silver ringlets, which was labeled:

Dilys Derwent

St. Mungo's Healer 1722-1741

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 1741-1768

There was large notice in front of the wall along with a desk and a lady receptionist.

ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS ..................................... Ground floor

Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.

CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES ........................... First Floor

Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.

MAGICAL BUGS ................................................ Second Floor

Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox, vanishing sickness,

scrofungulus, etc.

POTION AND PLANT POISONING ........................ Third floor

Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc

SPELL DAMAGE ................................................ Fourth Floor

Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly applied charms, etc.

VISITORS' TEAROOM / HOSPITAL SHOP ............... Fifth Floor

IF YOU ARE UNSURE WHERE TO GO, INCAPABLE OF NORMAL SPEECH OR UNABLE TO REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE, OUR WELCOME WITCH WILL BE PLEASED TO HELP.

Hermione didn't need to go to any of these places since she knew perfectly well where she had to go and therefore, didn't trouble the receptionist. She straightaway made her way for the sixth floor straightaway, which was completely for private use of people who kept their own patients there. Harry Potter was there.

Hermione stood on the staircase, which like the one Dumbledore's office had, took her through each floor. There were many people with her, some getting off and some climbing in. Hermione got off when she reached the sixth floor. There were many wards there, which held mentally impaired people mostly. Sirius had Harry in a closed ward on the end of the left-hand side. Hermione walked straight into it.

That place hadn't changed at all.

In the small ward was Harry, still in coma. His limbs were still uselessly attached to his body. His round spectacles were still on the bedside table, now very dusty. The curtains were closed and the ward was not very well lit. Harry still looked like an exhausted angel pushed into hell.

Harry Potter ... angel ... savior of the world ... uselessly lying on a bed at the age of twenty-six.

On the bedside table were many unopened gifts. Some of them said From Hermione. Three of them, which Hermione had kept there last year and on Harry's birthday that year, said From Hermione Malfoy.

Hermione kept her gift next to the ninth one. It also said From Hermione Malfoy.

Hermione sat down next to Harry and stared at his thin face for a long time. His forehead still had the same scar and an identical one was found on the base of his throat. Hermione remembered how it had come to be there. She remembered everything. Right from the first time she had met Harry on the Hogwarts Express to seeing him being admitted into the hospital ten years ago. She remembered him flying on his broomstick and becoming the Gryffindor Seeker. She remembered having seen his radiant face after he had saved Ginny from the Basilisk. She remembered flying with him on Buckbeak the hippogriff. She remembered seeing him yell at Fudge when Voldemort had returned. She remembered flying with him to the Ministry on Thestrals. She remembered confessing the truth about his deceitful scheme in the Prefects' quarters. She remembered fighting Voldemort. She remembered his face when he had first fainted before being engulfed in the darkness forever.

No not forever, she forced herself to think, to be optimistic. He'll come to life again. He'll open the gifts I've been giving him for his birthday and Christmas. He'll get married someday and have kids and become a Seeker.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Happy Christmas, Harry." she said in a choked voice.

"Happy Christmas, Harry ... Happy Christmas, I tell you ... hey, Harry, I'm wishing you a happy Christmas, don't you hear me ... oh, are you asleep? Then get up now ... I'll splash water on your face ... there you go ... why don't you wake up? C'mon now ... I'll make loud noises..."

THUD, THUD, THUD ... THUD, THUD, THUD ... TAP, TAP, TAP. TAP, TAP, TAP!

Harry woke up with a start. Cold sweat drenched his face and black pyjamas. Dull sunlight came into the room through the mullioned windows of the dormitory for the sixth year Gryffindor boys. Harry stared into the depths of the scarlet color of the curtains of the four poster bed, wondering...

It was a dream ... a terrible one. Harry had seen Hermione being kidnapped by none other than his archenemy Draco Malfoy. As if it wasn't bad enough, he saw them both wedding and bedding later on! And of course, himself in a depressing ward somewhere ... but the worst part of it was Hermione was in love with Malfoy! Draco Malfoy!

And Hagrid! Dear, Malfoy had killed him... Harry suddenly remembered that Voldemort had died too. Wow, he thought. But his mood was further worsened when Harry also remembered that Ginny had died and the Weasleys, for some inexplicable reason had cut off with him. I much better off with the Weasleys with me and Voldemort alive, he thought as he pulled the red curtains and got out of his bed, than with Voldemort dead and me in coma! Along with Hermione married to Malfoy and Ginny and Hagrid dead.

Though I wouldn't say no to a dead Lucius Malfoy, he further thought as he stepped in shower.

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Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, down in the dungeons had a bad morning too. He fought with Pansy Parkinson, burnt Millicent Bulstrode's homework and had a run in with Theodore Nott. He was rather preoccupied than usual.

Obviously he was, because during the weekend, he had paid his dying father a visit in Azkaban and his father had got him straight into a hole - he now how to get some blasted book. What was that, Draco tried to recollect, yes, Manumission from Servitude.