Goodbye, Little Hermione

On an ordinary day.

Hermione pretended to be angry because Caesar had forgotten their anniversary, but when he conjured a bouquet of Starlight Roses that would never wilt, she couldn't help bursting into laughter through her tears.

Late at night in the kitchen, they shared a bowl of steaming cream of mushroom soup. Outside the window, fine snow fell softly, and all was silent.

When work-related stress kept her tossing and turning, he told her outlandish "bedtime stories" about another world until her breathing gradually grew steady and deep.

Together, they tried planting magical plants and ordinary roses in the garden. When they failed, they teased each other; when they succeeded, they raised their glasses in celebration.

One evening, after another failed attempt at planting, their hands and the hems of their robes were covered in dirt. Hermione looked at the flower bed in disarray, then suddenly laughed.

She turned and brought out an old Long-Eared Rabbit Doll from the house. Its fabric was coarse, one ear had been sewn on crooked, yet it had been kept in remarkably good condition.

"Do you remember it?" She pressed the button on the rabbit's belly. A faint recording crackled to life, complete with static—the background music from a shooting game at an amusement park.

Caesar gazed at the rabbit, his eyes as soft as the evening light. "I thought you'd thrown it away ages ago."

"How could I possibly throw it away?" She gently placed the rabbit in his arms. "You won it for me. You got caught in the rain that day, droplets sparkling in your hair like tiny diamonds. You said, 'The rest of the day is yours,' and then gave me an entire afternoon—an afternoon I'd never forget."

He pulled her close along with the rabbit and murmured, "I'll never forget that afternoon either."

Night fell late, and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

In her sleep, Hermione unconsciously brushed a hand over her chest.

Caesar watched her quietly, his fingertips gently tracing her brow and eyes, as if he wanted to engrave her face deep into his soul.

Later, at a warm and lively gathering.

Perhaps it was a holiday, or someone's birthday. The living room was crowded with people, and laughter, conversation, and music mingled together.

Hermione was surrounded by friends. Her slightly flushed cheeks were touched with a faint blush, and her smile was bright and carefree.

Caesar stood a little way off, holding two foaming Butterbeers. His gaze never left her, his eyes filled with a tenderness he hadn't even noticed in himself.

Then she crossed the room, came over to him, and took one of the drinks, gently clinking it against his. A clear "clink" rang out, and foam cheerfully spilled over the rim.

"This reminds me of when we first met," she said with a smile. "You handed me a Butterbeer and called it a welcome gift."

"You looked so wary back then," he recalled. "Like a little animal ready to run away at any moment."

"Because I had no idea," she moved closer, her voice as soft as a whisper, "that the stranger who suddenly appeared in my life would become the most important 'absolute' of my entire life."

Amid their friends' laughter and teasing, they kissed once more.

The kiss held the malty fragrance of Butterbeer, the sweetness of memories, the warmth of the years, and all the love they'd never put into words but had long since etched into their bones.

The gathering went on late into the night. After the guests had gradually departed, a slightly tipsy Hermione leaned gently against Caesar's shoulder.

"I had such a good time today," she mumbled.

"I..." Caesar's voice suddenly grew strained.

Hermione froze for a moment, then buried her face in the crook of his neck and said softly, "Sometimes, I'm so afraid this is all just a dream."

Caesar didn't answer. He only held her tighter.

Because he knew that what she feared was about to become reality.

[3, 2, 1...]

[Exit complete.]

The final glimmer of simulated light vanished into nothingness.

Caesar's consciousness returned to the system's pure-white settlement space. The noise and warmth from a moment ago were replaced by absolute silence.

There was no wind from the Black Lake, no fire in the hearth, no sweet scent of Butterbeer, and none of her warmth or laughter.

Only the settlement list floated before him, gleaming with cold light, along with a new prompt:

[Congratulations, Host, on completing the Destroy Hogwarts mission. Rewards: Legendary Magic Talent, Animagus.]

[Removing the three initial talents: Reform to Evil, Genius Scholar, Ancient Magic of Love.]

[The Host carried the talent "Reform to Evil" in this simulation. You may retain the emotional memories of this simulation with one character, affecting that same character in the real world.]

[Would you like to load "Simulated Memory and Emotion" for Hermione? Yes/No]

Caesar floated silently in the pure-white expanse, his dark eyes fixed on the "Yes" option.

Time had no meaning here.

He saw her tearful smile when he proposed.

He saw the light in her eyes at their wedding, brighter than the stars.

He saw her warmth against his back by the lake.

He saw them sharing that bowl of mushroom soup in the dead of night.

He saw her crossing the room at the gathering to come to him.

He also saw the days long past—

The rain in London, the double-decker bus, the London Eye slowly rising, the necklace in her palm, her silhouette turning away at dusk, and her words: "This is the best birthday gift I've had in ten years."

All the images overlapped and intertwined, finally converging on the simple choice before him.

After a long while, he pulled one corner of his mouth upward, ever so slightly and slowly. It was a smile without warmth, an expression too complicated to read.

He raised his hand, his fingertip hovering above "Yes," trembling faintly.

"Forget me. Get some rest..." he murmured. His voice faded into the whiteness without a single echo.

But in the end, he pressed "No."

Then he smiled, with a tenderness that was almost cruel.

"Goodbye, little Hermione."

He spoke to the empty white void as if she could still hear him.

"That rainy afternoon, that rabbit, that necklace... and everything that came after were all too beautiful.

"So beautiful that I can't bear to let them become a painful part of your memories.

"Just remember me as I was at the beginning—the stranger who arrived in the rain and left at dusk.

"At least then, in the years to come, you won't be tormented again and again by this illusory memory.

"In this simulated world, you'll remember the promise of the necklace and the warmth of that afternoon, and then...

"After I die, you'll slowly forget me.

"The power of time will carry away all feelings.

"Go on with your life. Become the person you want to be.

"But this time, I'm sorry. I'm afraid... I can't take you home."

His figure began to turn transparent. The system's notification sounded again:

[Memory and emotion sealed.]

[Simulation record archived.]

Just before he vanished completely, Caesar took one last look at the emptiness.

Something in his eyes shattered, then quietly reassembled, settling at last into a fathomless calm.

"Goodbye, my absolute."