(A/N: FINAL CHAPTER! One last thanks to all of you who reviewed!)

"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."

– T. S. Eliot

Dear Diary,

It’s been a long time since I’ve updated you. It all seems so long ago now, but I can still remember. So where was I? Yes, I know.

Adding insult to injury, I was commanded to stay away from Harry until he was fully healed. Not that I was angry anymore; rather, I was impatient. After all I’d been through, I deserved happiness, and that was what I was going to get.

I managed to patch things up with my brother and most of my family. My mother and I aren’t on speaking terms yet. She still feels betrayed, I think. Oh well. I guess everything can’t be perfect. I did get invited to Hermione and Ron’s wedding, however. It’s in February. The baby’s due in September. They are very happy.

I am too. Harry and I live far away from everyone, especially the wizarding world. It’s a large, white house in the country. No one is around for tens of miles. I also put up an Anti-Apparation Shield with a five mile perimeter to discourage any visitors.

That doesn’t stop Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, though. I like Black well enough now, I suppose. He’s very funny and easy going now the war is over. He and Lupin come over frequently. Moody, Arabella, Fletcher, and the twins have been known to show up from time to time. Ron and Hermione visit Harry often as well. I survive their visits. I’m uncomfortable the whole time.

The only time I really feel whole and safe is around Harry. I’ve pretty much shut myself off from everything but him, and he’s done the same with me. People don’t react to us well, saving the world from Tom and all. We were tired of the looks, tired of the questions, the whispers. We just want to stare into each other’s eyes.

I feel fortunate, I guess. Fortunate and happy.

He asked me if I wanted to get married. I didn’t, still don’t. What’s the point? It’s in our souls. I feel marriage is a thing people use to get closer to someone. Harry and I already have that closeness. I think it hurts him though, knowing we will never marry. He wants to. He wants children as well. I can’t have children. Well, I can, but I won’t. Children are something I don’t know how to deal with. How can I have a child when I don’t know what it’s like to be a child myself?

Besides, they’d turn out all dysfunctional and unhappy. They wouldn’t fit in with Harry and me. I need him, not an army of him.

My family life was never...satisfactory. I would never put another person through that ever. To be literally next to hated by my closest family...I’d rather not think about that now. I don’t see them much anymore. They forgave me. I’d forgiven them long ago. I didn’t deserve them, though. They didn’t deserve me either, come to think of it. I put them through too much and I did too much to fit in any more. Oh well.

I don’t like thinking too far ahead. I don’t know what will happen to Harry and me; I don’t know what the future has in store for us. You see, I lost most of my powers. I suppose I drained all of them into the sword, and all of the sword’s power drained into Tom, killing him.

But I did get something, something very precious to me.

As it turns out, I hadn’t lost my soul, though it had been taken from me. My body and psyche just couldn’t handle all the power inside me. My soul was the power of the rings, the power of the sword; for the longest time, my body couldn’t deal with it. So when I died, it was put in the keeping of Reonet, the Timeless One. She came to me in my dreams not two hours after the defeat of Tom and returned it. I’m mortal now; my soul is mortal.

My dreams of dying peacefully with Tom dead are fulfilled. I didn’t realize I would pick up my soul mate on the way.

I suppose that’s the way things go. Do something for Fate, and Fate will do something for you. Fate is funny like that.

Around a year after the defeat of Tom, Cephiet and Cetia came with a large group of elves, representatives of each of the divisions. They gifted us with elfin magic and entertainment and presents, showing goodwill to their savior. After all, Harry had killed the last of the Shadowmakers, and Dumbledore had given Harry his gift. As it turns out, Harry doesn’t have the right gift to be a Shadowmaker, and it just disappeared.

I think that is why Dumbledore died. The abilities of a Shadowmaker reside in the soul. Dumbledore gave up part of his soul and, as forfeit, his life. He died that spring. On the equinox, as Fate would have it. Funny how he and I were polar opposites yet I still mourned his death. It was tragic and brave, every bit the Gryffindoric hero.

To die with the cause finished must have been his greatest dream. And by the time he died, it really was over. Moody took the Death Eaters he found in the rainforest and systematically killed all of them. No pity. No trial. No remorse. Just justice. It was his call. He did do one thing, though; he let Peter Pettigrew live. Peter Pettigrew still lives in a dark cell in Azkaban, all his secrets revealed (freeing Black) and his mind broken. I actually think he might occupy the same cell Brigid did. She killed herself right after Malfoy’s death became public. Moody handed her the knife to do it. It was humane of him.

On reflection, the first year was the hardest. To be so blindly thrown into hate and betrayal, to be the only Weasley ever put in Slytherin was hardly healthy. But in the end, it is what saved Harry and me. Never underestimate the power of love. The best thing in the world, the only thing that gives true happiness and wholeness, is to love and be loved in return.

I think this will be my last entry. I just needed the closure.

– Ginny Weasley Potter

“I’m here, Mum,” the violet eyed girl said, closing her book and looking to her mother.

Her mother smiled down on her. “You’ve got to get ready, Capella, dear. Back to school tomorrow. Hogwarts doesn’t get any easier your seventh year.” Then getting a look at her daughter’s reading material, she added, “Are you reading that book again? You’ve read it a thousand times already.”

Capella clutched the book to her chest. “Yes,” she said defensively. “It’s wonderful! I’ll go to bed as soon as I read the last page, Mum.”

Her mother looked at her suspiciously then sighed. “All right. One more page. Good night, sweetie pie.”

“Good night, Mum,” Capella replied, eyes returning greedily to the text.

She’d got it, or rather inherited it, when she was born. From an uncle, she was told. Very distant, she had figured, and very rich. There were a lot of beautiful clothes in it, a wand that didn’t work for her, and loads of other stuff. Notes too advanced for her in Arithmancy and Transfiguration, too. There were also beautiful and detailed sketches. She’d found a collection of sketches called the Seven Maidens; they were seven beautiful women, exotic and powerful, all of them. There were other sketches she was told were of her uncle’s sister’s son, so one of her cousins or something like that. It just showed up one day with the load of wonderful stuff.

She’d pondered the coincidence many, many times. It was clear from the book (she thought it was a diary of someone who dated or married her “cousin” Draco because he was mentioned many, many times) that the person had gone through a lot, a great adventure.

That was why she wanted to meet the person at any costs. It was odd they never said their own name. But that was when something magical had happened. A new passage had appeared out of nowhere earlier that day, and a name was signed. Ginny Weasley...Potter.

It sounded familiar, Potter. Then she remembered many mentions of a Harry, and putting the pieces together, she figured it must be Harry Potter. The hero Harry Potter. Not much was known about him now. An author, some woman with the last name Granger-Weasley, wrote some unauthorized autobiography about him and his life. Nearly everyone was forced to read it for History. On accident, Binns had assigned it twice to her year.

He’d gone to Hogwarts and defeated Voldemort and all that; everyone knew the story. But whoever the author of this diary was knew more than Capella had ever heard about Harry Potter and everything that really went on at Hogwarts.

She desperately wanted to find this person; she was sure her headmaster, Professor Snape, would help her. True, he didn’t like Gryffindors, but no one was perfect. She could always ask Professor Lupin, the deputy headmaster; he liked her.

Turning off her lamp, she went to sleep, dreaming dreams about who this person could be and what she was like.

“Ready, Capella?” Aries asked her.

Capella looked at her brother and nodded. As she would ever be. She couldn’t believe she found her. The Ginny Weasley...Potter. Finally she would meet the woman who...gods, she’d done a lot.

Snape had been the one who told her in the end. The most powerful witch he’d ever met was what he’d said. There was just so much; Capella couldn’t even begin to describe all the woman had contributed to the world. She had to meet her; she had to. So Snape gave her the coordinates to Ginny’s house in the country to “return her book.”

Now she was literally seconds away from Apparating to Ginny’s home, and the anticipation was killing her.

“Do you want me to come, Ell?” Aries asked, grasping her hand.

She looked into his eyes and shook her head. “No. I think this is something I need to do for myself.”

He only nodded and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you at your house, okay?”

Capella nodded and palmed the shrunken trunk of things in her pocket. She’d decided to return everything to Ginny, all of her things. After some research and clarification from Snape, Capella had discovered the answer to the mystery.

Ginny Weasley was the prophetical woman who helped save the world from Voldemort. But before she’d died at Voldemort’s hands and come back, she’d been a Slytherin and not very...human. She was like a superhuman who could do just about everything and exerted a lot of energy and power. Draco Malfoy, Capella’s cousin of a sort, had taken a liking to her, and they had been lovers while at Hogwarts. During the spring holiday she spent with him, both of them were killed by Voldemort, though only she was given the right to live again. But she’d left things at the Malfoys’ house, namely the trunk of things and her diary.

Now Capella was going to return all of it, even the diary. She gripped the diary to her chest and concentrated on the coordinates, Apparating right onto the lawn of Ginny’s home.

Opening her eyes, she found herself in the middle of a deserted moor, a tree in the distance and the sun low in the sky. “Apparation Shield,” she muttered. “Fine. I’ll walk then.” Sighing, she set off north with the help of her wand.

It was a long walk; apparently Ginny wasn’t fond of visitors. Capella wouldn’t be either, if she’d gone through half the things Ginny had.

She looked over the rising sun to see a cottage in the distance. That could only be Ginny and Harry’s home. Butterflies soared in her stomach as she looked at the cottage. Increasing her speed, she made for the house, anxious and slightly nervous.

As she approached, she saw the house more clearly. It was white with a white picket fence and huge rosebushes in the front. It was slightly Victorian in style, though it had a porch winding around the whole house, it seemed. A person knelt in the bushes, her back towards Capella.

It had to be Ginny; she knew it. Taking several deep breaths, she straightened her pale blonde hair and smoothed out her skirt and shirt. More nervous than she’d ever been in her life, Capella walked up to the white gates of the fence and waited.

The woman’s back was to her, red hair flowing down gracefully under a broad rimmed hat. She was wearing Muggle shorts and a white shirt, tennis shoes and gardening gloves. She stopped suddenly, cocking her head, and then stood.

Capella was sure this was the most beautiful woman in the world. She’d been told a fair few times herself that she was beautiful, and not just by her parents. Modeling companies were obsessed with her eyes; deep, royal purple and mysterious, they said.

But this woman was the single most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She wasn’t short, but not tall, and her build was gracefully curvy, mature and very desirable. She had glorious red hair and the most wonderful coppery-metallic-gold color eyes. She was magnificent and had a certain presence that reminded Capella she was practically a goddess in her own right.

“Yes?” the woman said, walking elegantly to Capella.

“I’m – I’m Capella – Capella Arcturus,” she said quickly, stumbling over her words. This wasn’t going as planned. “I – I’ve got something of yours...it was...I was –”

“Purple eyes,” Ginny said simply. “Hmm, come in.”

Capella’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but she followed Ginny up the porch and into the cool, airy house. It was beautiful and wide inside, clear and pure. It reminded Capella of peace and home. She liked it. “I – I – as I said, I’ve got something of yours, Miss Weasley,” Capella began.

“Please sit, Capella,” Ginny said, motioning toward the table. Awkwardly, she did, putting the book on the table and pulling out the downsized trunk. Ginny handed Capella a cup of tea, then sat across from her and looked her in the eye. Capella found it hard to stare into Ginny’s metallic eyes, but also hard to turn away. “My diary.” Ginny gestured with her cup, nodding at it slightly. “I’ve looked a long time for that, Capella.”

“Yes,” Capella said quietly. “I didn’t know...”

Ginny smiled, making her possibly even more beautiful. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’ve just missed it. Tell me, how did you come across it? The last I knew it was in the house of Lucius Malfoy, collecting dust in Draco’s room.”

Capella launched herself into the tale of how she’d found it, how it had come to her, and how she had figured out who it belonged to and how to get there. She told her story to Ginny, who listened attentively and patiently, never interrupting.

“So you see,” Capella finished, “I never knew. The whole time, I thought it was a story. I never put two and two together.”

Ginny took a sip of her tea and set it down. “Well, Capella,” she said in a smooth voice, “that is an interesting tale. I’m very thankful you’ve returned this diary to me. It is very important for more than a few reasons. But I have to know: have you been told yet?”

“Told?” Capella asked. “Told what?”

Ginny looked at Capella intently, then got up, left, and returned not three moments later with a great book with silver lined folios. She licked her fingers and placed her hand over the tome, flipping through the age-tanned pages. They flew by and stopped abruptly on one page.

“Here it is,” Ginny said, sitting down across the table again from Capella. “These are my prophecies, by the way. I randomly spew them out from time to time. Aftereffects of the original prophecy – you understand? Right, here it is: And near to the end, a child shall be born, her name with the heavens and her eyes with them too. Ethereal torrents and confusion herald her eighteenth year, and The Resolution will come, true resolution. Unto the earth, she will come, The Messiah of the Universe, and she will deliver the final time.

“An interesting text, no? I’m sure it’s you. Your eyes are what gave it away. ‘Her name with the heavens and her eyes with them too.’ It is painfully obvious. Purple is the color of ethereal magic, and Capella is a star. You are the signal of the end. Most of the world is sure it has already ended. A few others and I know this isn’t true. If you are truly the Messiah, then Tom – that’s Voldemort – is really dead, and we are actually free from him and his evil forever. You can’t tell me you’ve never heard this before?”

Capella stood, stunned. That couldn’t be...could it? How many people have purple eyes, Ell? her subconscious asked. Ginny is telling you this. She was a prophet, still is. You have to believe her.

“I – I can’t be a person in a prophecy. I mean, I’m just Capella, nothing special. Just Capella,” she said. Even to her ears, she sounded pleading.

Ginny took a sip of tea and frowned. “Well, there is one way to tell. You’re a Gryffindor, no? Come with me; the Rowans will be able to tell.”

She stood, and Capella followed half-heartedly, looking at the living room as she left through the back door. “Where are you taking me?”

Ginny took a deep breath and sighed. “Home. You know how to Apparate, right?”

“Yes,” Capella answered.

“Good. We’re...oh, I’ll just take you,” Ginny said, holding out her ivory hand. Capella noticed there was a scar on her palm. Ginny was crucified there, she realized. Slowly, Capella took Ginny’s hand, and she was gone.

The sucking feeling subsided, and Capella opened her eyes. It was cool and clean, dim under the pale trees. Wind rustled under the branches. Rowans, she thought. They’re beautiful. They’re what my wand is made of. Thirteen inches, Rowan Wood, stardust core. I can feel it vibrating here. There is something powerful near.

Ginny took another deep breath and let go of Capella’s hand, tilting her head to catch the breeze. Her hat flew off. “Can you feel it, Capella?” she asked. “I’d almost forgotten.”

“Yes,” Capella answered. There was an odd stirring in her soul, something old and powerful. She could feel it deep down, hiding under layers and layers of dreams and thoughts. “I can feel them.”

“Good,” Ginny said, looking at her now. “Follow me, Capella.” Reluctantly, she did. Ginny must have noticed this for she laughed a little. “It only gets better from here!”

Numbly, Capella nodded and followed Ginny into the pale trees. The leaves rustled again as she stepped inside a curious ring. A clearing with five trees was in the center, four around one. It was the tallest of all the trees, the proudest, too. It twinkled and shimmered with some strange light.

“The Holy Circle of Rowans,” Ginny stated. She laid a hand on one of the trees in the outermost ring. “This is a young grove, probably just under one hundred years. It was planted by a group of elves Alastor Moody, my mentor, helped when he was young. A lot of care and power is in this grove. It’s the only one in Britain.”

“Elves?” Capella asked distantly. It was the center tree which had her attention now. It was calling to her. That light...

“Elves,” Ginny continued. “But what I want you to do is touch that center tree, the Tree of Ether. That will tell me what I need to know.”

Capella looked from Ginny to the tree. This was the greatest gift she had ever been given. Just to look at the tree...the Tree of Ether...even if she wasn’t this Messiah of the Universe, if she got to commune with that tree for just a few seconds...

“Virgin From Light,” a clear, female voice said, effectively breaking the spell on Capella. “What are you doing here?”

Turning, Capella saw a lone woman approaching. Her hair was blonde, so blonde it hurt, almost like Capella’s. The woman’s eyes were blue, deep blue and ancient, as though she had seen and done much. But she was so young...well, young wasn’t the word. Perhaps ageless was the word Capella was looking for.

“Cetia,” Ginny said warmly. “It’s Ginny. I’m not the Virgin any more.” The two women embraced, kissing each other on the cheek before backing away.

“Ginny, then,” the woman replied. “I never expected to see you again. The last time I saw Harry Green Shield was a year ago when he came back to the island for a day. He brought news about you, but I wished you were there.”

“I’ve been taking my well deserved vacation. It’s permanent, I fear,” Ginny replied. “But you I’ve not seen in...well, it must be sixteen years. You haven’t aged a day.”

“I haven’t aged a day since I was 175 years old, Ginny,” the blonde woman said. “Who is she? The Messiah? She feels like Eovale did.”

“I don’t know,” Ginny stated, motioning Capella over. “Her name is Capella Arcturus, an American witch. Her father’s mother was a Malfoy, so she’s a bit of a Brit, too.”

“Nice to meet you, Capella Dragon’s Daughter,” the blue eyed woman said in her flowing voice. “I’m Cetia Enorian, a sea-elf of the clan Duladain. Welcome to our forest.”

“I – thank you, Cetia,” Capella replied.

Cetia opened her mouth then closed it, smiling. “Go ahead. Let’s see if you are the Messiah.”

Capella nodded and walked numbly to the trees. The center one, something told her. Touch the center one. Passing by the ring of four middle trees, Capella stood in front of the mighty Rowan. The hum came back, and she closed her eyes, feeling the age and energy of the tree. In her mind, it was a great purple cloud, old, cosmic power. Breathing in the sweet smell, she reached out a hand into the purple mists.

The earth seemed to sigh as she did so. Something broke; Capella could hear it. Then a musical voice filled her head, and she saw light.

“Messiah,” it whispered, neither male nor female. “Messiah, answer me now. Is it the end?”

“The end of what?” she asked.

“The Dark One. Can you feel the darkness?”

Not clearly understanding what she was asked, Capella stayed silent. Darkness? She couldn’t see it. She didn’t feel anything particularly malevolent. “No,” she answered, surprising herself. “I feel only order.”

The music ended abruptly, and Capella wondered if she did something wrong. She opened her eyes and saw she was facing the Tree of Ether again, standing in the forest, though now it was dusk and the moon was out. Frowning, she backed away from the tree.

“So it ends,” Ginny said quietly. “You were the Messiah, Capella. You’ve ended it.”

There was a grim smile on Cetia’s face when Capella turned to her. She must have misread her because she said, “Well done, Capella Dragon’s Daughter. It is over now. We can return to peace. The Future is free.”

Ginny and Cetia shared a secretive glance before three people emerged from the trees. One was tall and dark, with black hair and brilliant green eyes. He was well built and had a commanding air. A sword was at his hip and a smile on his face. The other two could only be elves, tall and blonde, blue eyed and lithe, though one more than the other. The wirier of the two had a bow strapped across his chest and a set expression on his face. He gazed into her eyes, and something odd entered Capella’s conscious. She knew him...didn’t she? She’d seen him in dreams...or were they memories? With a second look at her, he turned to Cetia and Ginny.

“Virgin From Light,” the slighter one said. “Welcome. It has been long indeed since I’ve seen you.”

Ginny smiled, and Capella watched as the stockier of the elves made his way to Cetia’s side. She figured they were married or something. The dark haired man smiled at Ginny, and Ginny smiled back. That has to be Harry Potter, Capella thought.

“Capella,” Ginny said to her. “This is Cephiet Enorian, the leader of the sea-elves and Cetia’s brother. Antaries is Cetia’s husband, and that is Harry Potter. You may not know the elves, but I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

Capella blushed a bit, brushing back her blonde hair as the blue gaze of the elves studied her. Harry merely smiled and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Capella.” She shook his hand and smiled when he winked at her. “So how did you convince Ginny to come out of the house? I’ve been trying for years; she just won’t budge.”

“That’s enough, Potter,” Ginny said imperiously. “I’ll have you know she is The Messiah, and you owe her a great deal of thanks for her assistance. She freed the Future, setting it away from Tom and his evil forever.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Well, it seems I do owe you some thanks, Capella.”

Capella blushed again and bit her lip nervously. The tall elf was looking at her oddly again, had been for some time. She felt as though her soul were being examined, not her features. “It wasn’t anything, really...”

“Oh,” Cetia said. “It was, though. And we must thank you properly for it. You will celebrate with us. You as well, Ginny, and Harry Green Shield.”

“We would love to, wouldn’t we, Capella?” Ginny urged.

Capella licked her lips. “Yes...I suppose...”

Ceita smiled. “Good. Camp is this way. Follow me, please.”

Ginny gave Capella a reassuring look and beckoned her on to the woods. Falling in step behind Ginny and Harry, she looked about her. She wasn’t sure how it had become night; it had been noon not too long ago. Perhaps she was in that alternate world longer than she thought.

Soon, however, she felt the piercing gaze of the elf Cephiet on the back of her head. She could have sworn she’d seen him before. Perhaps that was why he was looking at her oddly; he remembered her from somewhere.

But soon she saw a fire, a large one with a group of elves crowded about, most of them talking loudly, laughing, and a few singing. It was a happy group of about thirty elves, most with hair like hers and bright blue eyes. They were the most beautiful people she’d ever seen.

“Come,” Cetia said to her. “Come sit with Ginny, Harry, and me, Capella Dragon’s Daughter.”

Capella nodded and followed the elfin woman to a spot around the fire. The elves grew quiet as she approached, openly staring at her. Nervously Capella licked her lips, taking a seat between Cetia and Ginny. Looking at Ginny and Harry, she had to smile at their happiness.

“My brothers and sisters,” Cetia began. The elves hushed. “I come bearing good tidings. The last word has been said; The Messiah of the Universe is among us. Capella Dragon’s Daughter has made the decision, and it is this: We are free! Free, my brothers, from Voldemort Morning Star and all his evil! A grand celebration will be thrown, but for now, we rejoice together.”

A great cheer echoed off the trees, and Capella could feel the trees respond, leaves twinkling under the full moon. She watched the joyful elves, wishing she could be as happy. It was hard for her to appreciate what she had done; she barely knew herself. But by the way these elves were reacting, it was very important to them. Capella smiled, accepting the food offered to her and nodding when she was introduced to people. Ginny and Harry engaged her in conversation, but she pulled away.

She was by nature a private person, preferring to read and write than go to parties like her classmates. She’d never had a serious boyfriend, only one in fourth year to whom she’d barely paid attention. She’d always figured she’d sign up as an Auror or something when she got out of school; she was a gifted duelist, excelling in DADA, Transfiguration, and Charms. She’d won awards at amateur dueling meets in America and Britain both. But now she didn’t know what she wanted to do. She was lost and alone.

Sighing, she looked into the fire; bright embers stared back at her. Propping her head with her hand, she looked around. She figured she wouldn’t be missed if she took a bit of a walk, so she got up and headed into the forest. She really wanted to see those trees again, the ones which spoke to her. She’d never felt that way before, never experienced it. She understood them, if that made any sense, and she could tell their moods. She desperately wanted to be able to talk back to them, too.

A chilly breeze picked up, and she cursed her choice of Muggle t-shirt and skirt. She’d give anything for her robes. But as soon as she drew near the trees, away from the light of the fire, she felt unexpectedly warmed. Soft music filled her ears, and she brushed her fingertips over the pale trees, glowing in the moonlight. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep as she approached the Holy Circle of Rowans, waiting outside them.

They whispered of age and power, ancient secrets and long forgotten stories. They were young themselves but had been given knowledge beyond their time. She sighed and faced the moon. The Rowans fed off the moon’s light; she could sense them absorbing the ethereal energy.

“You hear them, don’t you?” a soft, masculine voice said from behind her.

Capella jumped and turned around quickly. It was an elf, the one who had been looking at her before, Cetia’s brother, Cephiet. His bow leaned against a nearby tree, and his face was set in a calm, passive expression. There was some emotion Capella didn’t recognize playing about his eyes which made her hum with energy. The breeze picked up, and a dark cloud crossed the moon, shading them but not bringing a complete darkness.

“Yes,” Capella answered. Then averting her eyes, she added, “I’m sorry; I’ll leave.”

But as she walked past him, she felt light fingers on her arm, and she looked up. “You don’t have to...the Circle is for everyone.”

Startled by the softness in his voice, Capella drew a breath. He must have interpreted it as fear for he withdrew his hand and looked at her apologetically. Turning to the trees, he changed the subject. “I’ve been listening to their music since I was a small boy, when I made my first docking. They were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. I would have stayed on land for them, but my life turned me to the sea, Ulannii.”

“Do you miss them?” she asked cautiously.

“Very much so. I can’t imagine a world without them. They are one reason why my people are rejoicing. Voldemort Morning Star wanted to chop them all down; they posed too much of a threat to him. You’ve freed us eternally from his dominion over us and the forests. Thank you.”

Capella found herself blushing. “I...you’re welcome. I don’t know how much I did, but I’m happy to help.”

He looked at her in silence, blue eyes burning holes in her violet, but never did Capella feel uncomfortable. The moon broke free of the clouds, and Capella inhaled at the sight of Cephiet’s skin glowing under the pale light. He looked like a god or a king, some powerful being from beyond.

“Your eyes,” he said softly. “They remind me of a person I once met in my dreams. Her name was Eovale Sindela, a sea-elf in legend. Stories tell of her being very powerful, but lonely. One day, her sadness overtook her, and Ulannii retrieved her from land, carrying her away on his currents to the sea where she would be forever happy. But in the sea, she could never see the moon, her mother, and in missing it, her soul became lost, half living in the ocean and half in the moon. Her love for both aspects of her nature caused the tides – the moon pulled her soul in the sea to it; then the sea pulled back.”

“How sad,” Capella said.

“Your eyes, they are like hers. Deep and violet like no worldly color. Your hair, too, wavy as the sea and pale as the moon. And your skin,” he said softly, his hand raising to her face and tracing her jaw tenderly. His eyes shone in the soft light, sparkling with emotion. “She had porcelain skin.”

“What happened to her?” Capella asked. Her stomach was filling with butterflies, and she was so nervous she could barely stand. She had barely met him, and yet she felt as though she’d known him for centuries. His long fingers skimmed lightly over her lips and then brushed away a stray hair from her forehead. She licked her lips nervously and stared blindly into his eyes.

“No one knows. Some say her spirit still travels from the sea to the moon, forever lost in her grief. Some say she disappeared, leaving the moon and sea to fight over her memory. I think she’s standing here in front of me. Gods, but you look like her!” he said with a chuckle and a smile. As he exhaled, Capella noticed the hitch in his breath, and she bit her bottom lip. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Capella Dragon’s Daughter.”

Capella didn’t know what to say. A complete stranger had practically told her he was in love with her, and she...she was all right with it. It felt right, if that made any sense at all. She felt like she’d known him her whole life. His eyes bored into hers, and he moved closer, eyes searching hers self-consciously.

She tilted her head, felt a light, velvety brush on her lips and shivered. Just that one contact made lightning shoot from her lips to her toes and back. Her eyes flickered open as Cephiet pulled back. She couldn’t read his eyes, but she could tell he was nervous. Closing her eyes, she felt his lips meet hers again, a little more solidly than the first time. Electric shots flowed through her as lithe fingers found the base of her back and his palm flattened on her skin.

The warm, silky brush of his tongue played on her lips, and she was brought into a deeper, more passionate kiss. Cephiet’s warm body moved against hers, and her knees liquefied. His tongue danced lightly with hers, and she felt herself being dipped slightly. Slowly, she wound her hands around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as his other hand came to rest on her hip.

That was when he pulled back. Capella’s eyes fluttered open in slight protest to see his face slightly flushed and almost embarrassed. For some reason, she wasn’t embarrassed in the least. In fact, she felt right. Something had clicked, and she wasn’t sure what. She leaned her head on Cephiet’s chest, liking how her head fit on his shoulder.

Cephiet’s body tensed. He’d never done this before, she realized. He probably didn’t even know what was going on until it happened. She sighed, not wanting the moment to end.

“I was wondering when this was going to happen,” Cetia said to Ginny as they watched the two people through the trees.

Ginny nodded. “She will be good for him, I think.”

“Well, she better,” Cetia scoffed. “It’s been in his future to marry a human. Our own oracle wrote it when he was young. At first, he was horrified, wanting to break the hold future had over him. But he began having dreams of purple-eyed women and knew she was what he was looking for. He never had any other lovers, and he never despaired. I have to say he’s been very patient.”

Looking again at the two people embracing, Ginny smiled. It was about time someone she knew had a life go right. It filled her with hope for the younger generation. Who knew what the future told? She sure didn’t.

Ginny felt Harry’s arms circle her waist. Smiling, Cetia left her with him.

“Spying, Ginny?” he asked. “How terribly Slytherin of you.”

Ginny smiled and kissed Harry on the cheek. “Do you want to get married?”

He looked at her oddly.

“I think I deserve a little happiness. I mean, it is truly over now. There’s nothing more I can worry about, just you and me.”

Harry smiled and said, “I thought you’d never ask.”