I hope our story has a happier ending

how I hope they shine

The day after Christmas, Hermione's nervous as she approaches Sirius after breakfast.

"Could I—" she bites her lip nervously. "Er, would you mind if I used the stone for a few minutes?"

Sirius holds it out automatically, expression curious, but not going to push if she doesn't want to disclose who she intends to speak to.

She's reminded of her conversation with Molly, the day of Fleur's wedding—the older woman relaying how desperately she'd wanted her kids to grow up in a better world.

Nothing has ever resonated with her so strongly—she can feel it, deep in her bones, the hope, the need for her baby to have a better life than the one she's withstood, a better world around them than the one she's known.

(She needs more for them than darkness and pain and fighting—her baby deserves so much more.)

She takes the stone into her room, locking the door behind her.

Crookshanks pads over, nuzzling against her hand as he senses her anxiety; he's been more protective and clingy than ever now that she's pregnant, and in moments like these it makes her feel so much less alone.

Tense, she turns it three times in her hand, forcing herself to take deep breaths as she waits—

And then the other woman is there, looking exactly as she had the day prior; her gaze is gentle as she smiles at Hermione with a knowing look.

"Hermione Granger. I have looked forward to speaking with you for a very, very long time."

"Lily Evans." Hermione makes a face. "Er, Potter I suppose—sorry, Sirius just always calls you that, and—"

"I know." Pushing a faded red lock over her shoulder, Lily rolls her eyes. "God, do I know. He's family, but he really does drive me crazy, even from the afterlife."

Her eyes are the same as Harry's, and yet—when they meet Hermione's own it's an entirely different feeling.

(Somehow, she just knows the other witch understands her—knows her feelings in a bone-deep way that no one else could possibly fathom.)

"I was wondering if you'd reach out."

"I'm sorry if this is weird, I just—it feels like I know you, somehow. And no one..." she wipes at her face, where tears are beginning to slide down her cheeks. "I love them, but they don't understand. I feel so very alone."

"I get it. Christ, do I get it." A bitter laugh escapes Lily, eyes gentle as she meets Hermione's gaze. "It's terrifying enough, being muggleborn in a world that doesn't seem to want you to exist no matter how desperately you try to prove you belong. And now on top of your usual fears, and having to deal with the target on your back, all you can think about is how scared you are that something will happen to your child because of you. That no matter what you do, you won't be able to protect them from this world you know firsthand is brutal and painful."

"Yes, exactly! I—how can I possibly think about anything else? For a single moment? And how—how can I bring a child into the world in the middle of a war? How will I ever be able to keep them safe? And what if—what if we don't win this war?"

Lily nods, grimacing. "It's the most awful feeling I've ever known." She reaches for Hermione's hand, squeezing it between her own. "The only thing worse is being gone—on the other side, screaming for your baby to run but no one can hear you. When their safety is so completely out of your control. But Hermione, love—you're not dead yet. You're still there; you can't let it eat you now. You can't let this feeling win while there's still something you can do. It shouldn't be—god, it's not your burden to bear—but the war is in your hands. You have to keep fighting."