A/N – several people have reviewed saying something about Draco's shield and how it's going to save him. Perhaps I wasn't clear enough, but remember that when Lucius was able to cast a body bind on Draco, he realized his shield had actually given out. So nope, IF he lives, that won't be the reason. Just something to consider as you read...

Chapter 45: The Last Confrontation

Ginny felt herself flung back from the force of the blasts, coming to land painfully on her tailbone. The world around her was a myriad of red and black billowing clouds, and the whole ground seemed to groan in protest. The noise was tremendous.

It took her several seconds to recover, blinking dust and spots of color from her eyes rapidly. Blaise and Luna had already resumed their position crouched behind the cover of the fountain, both peering out at the scene before them. Dragging herself up next to Blaise, she gasped at the picture that met her eyes.

It was already almost too chaotic to make out what was going on, but the general state of things could still be discerned. All around what once served as the perimeter of the camp lay the bodies of Death Eaters, limp and lifeless as so many sacks of potatoes. The Death Eaters lucky enough not to be caught in the initial explosions looked stunned, many still scrambling upright after the wards had gone off. More than a few were tripping clumsily over their fallen comrades. Through the entire confusing ordeal, the Order members out in the open did not hesitate. As one, they marched forward, right into the masses of their enemy.

For what seemed like a very long time, Ginny could only stare transfixed, everything feeling incredibly surreal. For the first time, the full extent of reality hit her with as much force as any rogue Bludger, and she wondered just what in the hell she was doing here. Why hadn't she listened to Draco? This was war...not just some scrimmage or a school-sponsored duel, but an actual, full out battle. People were dying out there, their screams echoing around in her brain. The unpleasant smell of already-spilled blood wafted up to her, turning her stomach and making her dizzy. This was no place for a teenage girl, not by a long-shot.

"Get ready, Ginny!" Blaise said right against her ear, but still he had to raise his voice to be heard over the din. "Almost time!"

She nodded distractedly, doing her best to push her second-guessing to the back of her mind. Forcing herself to focus on what was happening, she saw that the wedge-like formation had worked as planned. The Death Eaters had unwittingly accommodated to the members of the Order of the Phoenix, moving around to either side of the meager opposing force. Soon they would be almost completely cut in half, and then those like Ginny would rush out.

Blaise tensed beside her, drawing his legs under him and leaning forward like a spring coiling up in anticipation of release. She followed suit, feeling the smooth surface of her wand slip a little in her sweaty, white-knuckled grip.

"Just a little more!" Blaise announced, having to shout now as the battle began in earnest, hollered spells, curses, and screams punctuating the air. His dark eyes were locked unblinkingly on the terrifying picture before him. Rather than follow his gaze, Ginny chose to watch him—she wanted to see those horrors no more than necessary.

"Now!" he yelled, pausing only a second to cast Draco's shield before his legs propelled him forward instantly, a hex already soaring from the tip of his extended wand.

Ginny only hesitated a moment before casting her own spell and following, feeling all of her doubts banished in the face of an extraordinary adrenaline rush. Funny, she mused somewhat cynically, how being surrounded by death makes you feel that much more alive.

Then there was no more time for thoughts because she was face to face with a masked Death Eater who easily towered over her small frame. She skidded to a halt with a scream and reflexively cast the curse she knew best—the bag-bogey hex. He failed to block her attack, and while he was flailing about in a way that might have been comical under different circumstances, Ginny swiftly stunned him.

Panting, she searched almost frantically through the pandemonium for Blaise, heeding Draco's order to keep him in sight. Finally spotting the dark man fighting back-to-back with Luna, she weaved through the combatants, stunning the unprepared as she went. Then another foe appeared in her path, blocking her progress, and she was forced to stop and duel again.

This pattern continued for what felt like an eternity. After awhile, she lost count of all those she had faced...and of how many times Draco's shield had been the only thing that saved her. She recast the thing every free chance she got, even if she had only just renewed it a few moments before—she would not be caught undefended.

Time became something vague, impossible to judge or track, a concept that no longer held any sort of meaning or sway over her. There was just one moment and the next—one enemy down, another to take his place. An inexhaustible source of opposition. The pace set by both sides allowed for no respite, and her only way of marking the minutes was by the ache of her protesting muscles and scratchiness of her throat, hoarse from calling out spell after spell.

One more opponent hit the ground, and for what felt like the first time since she rushed out of hiding, no masked figure immediately took the fallen man's place. Feeling a little dazed as if just emerging from a dream, she looked around in an effort to judge which side was winning. Everything was such mayhem, though, that it was impossible to tell.

She realized with some measure of panic that she had no idea where Blaise was. Draco had told her never to lose him, but she had, and it made her feel suddenly very vulnerable. Almost frantically she scanned through the fighting, doing her best to ignore the less than pleasant sights to meet her eyes. A head of trademark black, unruly hair drew her eye, filling her with momentary elation, but as she looked more closely it became apparent that it was not Blaise at all, but Harry.

Her heart jumped in her chest as she watched him struggle, but before she could really figure out what was going on, another body moved into her line of vision and shot a spell off at her.

The curse slammed home right above her heart, knocking the air from her lungs, but doing nothing more thanks to Draco's shield. The other half of Draco's spell should have stunned the man, but Ginny had never gotten quite good enough to elicit that particular effect; he did, however, grow sluggish enough for her to stun him herself. She stepped over his torso the second he collapsed to the ground, joining countless others who had met the similar, non-lethal fate she had been doling out all battle. It had occurred to her that she should perhaps use something a bit more permanent, but the thoughts of that made her cringe.

Free of confrontation for the time being, Ginny stood on her tip-toes once more to locate Harry. This time she found him quickly, and his situation was not difficult to puzzle out—he was finally facing Voldemort. The Order members—Ron, Hermione, Lupin, even Dumbledore to name just a few—were all doing an admirable job of keeping other Death Eaters from interfering...but unfortunately, the Death Eaters were doing just as well at keeping the Order members from giving aid to Harry. The opposing sides formed a sort of ring around the combatants, who seemed quite oblivious to all of it.

Clearly, the two had been dueling for some time. Harry's face was glistening with sweat, dirt smeared across his forehead, and one lens on his glasses cracked right down the middle. She could see a vivid gash along his cheek, and he seemed to move with a slight limp. Ginny was relieved to find that Voldemort seemed to be in no better condition, his chest rising and falling rapidly and painful looking wheals rising on his skin as a result of some curse or another.

Ginny flinched when Voldemort fired a spell at Harry almost faster than she could follow, and it crashed into Harry so hard that he actually fell backwards. Though she felt sympathy and fear for Harry, a sense of triumph rose in her as well—surely Voldemort would now be stunned and this could be ended; that was how Draco's shield worked, after all.

To her shock, though, the snake-like thing that was without a doubt the Dark Lord did not even falter. His actions were not even sluggish, as her own opponents had become. What was wrong? She might not have perfected the shield, but Harry had mastered it as well as Draco! Something had gone wrong.

Voldemort was advancing on the still prone Harry now, and terror for her long-time friend clutched her chest painfully. She remembered Draco's order to stay as far away from Harry as possible, and for just an instant she wrestled with her morals and Draco's wishes.

Cursing under her breath, she went into a mad sprint towards Harry. A few challengers broke away from the general clutter, but she just dodged around them, kicking out the legs of one when she couldn't manage to squirm around him. Her lungs were burning with effort and her already sore muscles felt cramped and burning, but she surged forward anyway.

She had lost sight of the duel now, the scene blocked out by flashes of lights from spells and the ever moving people still fighting on, seemingly oblivious in her path. Finally, though, she managed to break free of the worst of it, and she was provided a clear view of what was going on. The ring of both Order members and Death Eaters that surrounded the two seemed to have tightened, and Harry was on the ground, one hand clamped tightly over his leg. Voldemort stood over him; Ginny was close enough now to hear the man's empty laughter, cruel and chilling as his red eyes gleamed in triumph.

She didn't think, just reacted. Her tired legs churned forward, smacking loudly against the hard-packed dirt beneath her, and before the protective circle of humans around them could stop her, she had slid past them. Lord Voldemort, You-Know-Who himself, stood only feet away from her now. It probably should have paralyzed her with fear, should have made her mind go blank with the sheer horror of the situation she found herself in, and for a second it even did. Then from the corner of her eye she saw Harry, struggling to right himself, and her mind and body were freed.

"Bastard!" she shrieked, taking aim and firing the almost ridiculously simple stunner she had used so often thus far.

Ginny had hoped to distract him long enough for Harry to recover, even at the cost of her own life, but Voldemort hardly looked in her direction as he effortlessly repelled her spell, laughing in gleeful delight at her weak attempt. Almost in the same wand motion he had used to defend himself, he cast a full body-bind on Harry. Ginny's heart sank at the sight...if Voldemort could cast a successful body-bind, that meant Harry's shield had finally given in, and now immobile, he was virtually defenseless.

"Come to join the fun, little girl?" Voldemort jeered softly, eyes flaring in amusement. He turned back to Harry. "She's a pretty one. Is she your girlfriend, Harry? Your lover? She looks very like your mother. The eyes are different, but that hair...just like Lily's...very beautiful. Is she here to die for you like Lily did, Harry? Did yet another young woman come to sacrifice herself for your sake?"

Harry, thoroughly caught in the body-bind, could only glare, the purest loathing making his eyes seem to glow.

Voldemort's thin lips curved into a smirk. "Ah, it would seem young Harry cannot answer me just now, so I will ask you, girl—are you here to die for him?"

Ginny's teeth were clenched so tightly it hurt, little spasms of sharp pain shooting through her jaw and up to her temple. Finally, she hissed, "If I have to, yes."

Voldemort's already grotesque features twisted into an even uglier sneer, a bark of laughter escaping him. "And a spirit to match Lily's as well! If I didn't know better, I would think you were her daughter. Who are you, little girl?"

Rather than answer, Ginny cried out the curse she never imagined in her craziest fantasies that she would use—Ginny screamed the Killing Curse. For one crazy moment, she even thought that it would work, that against all odds, she would defeat the most powerful Wizard of all time.

At the last possible moment, Voldemort jumped clear of the green jet of light with a hiss, eyes no longer showing amusement. In the next instant, Ginny's wand was torn from her slippery fingers, and she felt what could only be the Cruciatus ripping apart her joints, burrowing with barbed edges through her very bones. Everything disappeared, and all that remained was the unbearable agony, her scream so loud it was making her own throat and head hurt even more, but she was helpless to do anything else.

Then she came back to earth, knees and hands braced against the unforgiving ground and gulping in great bouts of air mingled with dust that scratched her throat and burned her lungs. Her stomach twisted over on itself as it occurred to her that her shield had either run out or was simply too weak to protect her against the likes of Voldemort. Either way, it was useless, and hope was gone—by all accounts and clichés, she thought, the sky should have darkened further at this point; she was dismayed to find that instead, the clouds opened just enough to let a ray of sun peak through, bathing the field softly. She shook her head at the irony before her focus was drawn back to the present by Voldemort's voice, laced with cold fury.

"That wasn't nice, little girl," he hissed softly, voice low and dangerous. "Now play time is over." He threw a look to Harry. "You didn't get to enjoy the picture your mother made when she sacrificed herself, Harry, but you're a lucky man—this pretty little thing is so close it will almost be the same. Enjoy."

Then everything seemed to happen at once. Lifting her head, determined to face her death proudly rather than bent over and panting, Ginny caught a slight movement from Harry—just a jerk of his arm, but enough to tell her he was fighting the body-bind. It gave her a surge of hope, a promise that her death would not be in vain. Then Voldemort was lifting his wand, and the curse rolled clearly off of his tongue, and the beam of light, sickly green and impossibly bright to her eyes, was headed straight for her.

Just in the instant when it should have hit, though, a shadow fell over her. She realized a second later it was a body, a person who had thrown himself in front of the curse intended for her. It collided with that person in mid-air, knocking him back against her and tumbling them both to the ground. Her savior's soft, slightly mussed ebony hair and olive skin immediately told her his identity—Blaise.

Before she could even register worry for her friend, and before Voldemort could recover from his astonishment at Blaise's interception, Harry's arm, stiff and awkward looking, rose enough for him to aim his wand and bellow, "Avada Kedavra!"

Time seemed to slow down—the infamous green light stretched forth from Harry's trembling wand, and Voldemort, still slightly muddled from his failure in killing Ginny, turned a fraction too slowly to avoid it crashing right into his back. His feet lifted off the ground for a second with the force of it, and his body arched at an unnatural angle before he collapsed limp and broken to the ground.

A breathless heartbeat passed, not a person daring to move or make a sound, and then every masked and robed Death Eater in sight clutched at their forearms, many of them crying out in pain.

Some fell to their knees, bent over double with their arms cradled against their chest; others simply curled their hands into fists, looking around wildly for the source of their pain. Eventually, though, they all figured out what had happened, and with shrieks of outrage from many or moans of defeat from others, every last one apparated away with ear-splitting, resounding cracks that echoed across the battle-ravaged land long after their departure.

The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating, eerie. Ginny blinked, eyes caught prisoner by the sight of Voldemort's thin shape, crumpled and unmoving only feet away from where she lay trapped under Blaise's heavy bulk. That very bulk was what prompted her into action, the need for air greater than her shock. She wiggled out from underneath her friend, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. If Blaise was dead, and because of her no less...

"Oh God, oh God, oh God. Please be alive, please," she whispered over and over, turning him so he lay on his back. If he had just cast his shield before the curse hit, she knew, there was a chance he had survived. If not...

She put her ear over his mouth. For several tense, heart-fluttering seconds, there was nothing, and she felt a well of anguish open up in her like nothing she had ever known. Then, very faintly but undeniably there, a whisper of moist air brushed against her ear. Choking out a sob of relief, she checked for his pulse too, finding it weak but steady.

"Oh, thank God, Blaise, you stupid git," she murmured, hugging him as tightly as she dared so as not to cut off his already poor breathing.

A cry from behind Ginny broke the lingering silence over the Ministry grounds, and moments later Luna Lovegood rushed forward, delicate fingers tracing Blaise's slack face.

"He's alright," Ginny assured her hastily, squeezing her quivering shoulder. "He'll be unconscious for a few hours, and when he wakes up he'll hurt like the devil...but he'll be alive and well."

Luna only bobbed her head wordlessly, relief plain on her face. Then, with no further ado, she laid down flat on the ground next to her fiancé, one arm securely around his waist and her head resting on his shoulder, humming some soft tune under her breath. Ginny spared the picture a smile and a small shake of her head before turning to Harry who was also still on the ground, flanked by a crouching Ron and Hermione.

She hurried over and dropped to her knees beside them. "Are you alright?"

As she spoke, Dumbledore stepped up behind Harry, the rest of the Order forming a loose circle around them.

"I'm fine," Harry said, voice sounding oddly cracked. "Just...my leg. I think it's broken."

"You're bleeding too." Hermione pointed to the cut along his cheek, hazel eyes all business and frizzy hair more wild than Ginny had ever seen it before. "And you're glasses..."

She healed his cheek with a quick spell, gently cleaning away the dried blood with a piece of cloth torn from her robe. His glasses were fixed next with a simple Reparo. "You might want someone else to fix your leg," she admitted grudgingly in a soft voice. "I'm not that good yet...I wouldn't want to pull a Lockhart on you." They both smiled weakly.

Apparently taking this as his cue, a Wizard Ginny only vaguely recognized from meetings at Grimmauld Place broke away from the crowd and knelt down next to Harry. "I work at St. Mungo's, Mr. Potter. I've fixed hundreds of broken limbs," he announced. "Just relax."

Harry nodded, tightly gripping Ron and Hermione's hands. "Okay."

The man murmured a spell, tapping his wand to Harry's leg.

Harry winced a little, his hold visibly increasing on his best friends' hands, and then his features went smooth. "Thanks," he breathed quietly.

The man nodded and moved back again.

Dumbledore laid his hand on Harry's shoulder, eyes twinkling and even leaking a few tears. "You've done it, my boy," he whispered, voice so full of emotion that Ginny couldn't hold back her own tears. "You've won."

A greet cheer went up then, sounding loud and strong from every person there, accompanied by thundering applause and ear-piercing whistles. Harry's eyes watered as he gazed at the thing that was once the Dark Lord, a smile on his face. He blinked rapidly several times. "No," he said, shaking his head, "we won. All of us, together—we beat the bastard."

This inspired another cheer, louder than the first, and Ginny noticed that the hint of sunshine from earlier had grown, casting the land in a warm, soft glow. She smiled lightly—now that was more like it.

"God," Harry was saying, "I was really beginning to wonder, though. That shield blocked, but the damned stunning part didn't work! I was relying on that." He turned to Ginny, face mournful. "Then you came, and oh God Ginny...I was so scared..."

She took his hand, feeling him squeeze her fingers, and smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, Harry. I'm fine. And so is Blaise...he just got knocked out like I did." She frowned a little. "Odd, though, about the stunner not working..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I had never considered this before, but...well, there is a...precedent for that sort of thing. Between two people who have a certain...bond, offensive spells often are far less effective. Usually it's only seen between family members, but you and Tom do—did— have a certain bond, Harry."

Harry shook his head in wonder. "Really wish I had known that before. I got off balance when it didn't go as Malfoy and I planned."

"Oh my God!" Ginny suddenly cried, fear gripping her so quickly and completely she could have sworn her heart stopped for a second. "Draco! Did you say that...that spell weakening thing happens between family!"

Harry's eyes widened as he understood her outburst, and Dumbledore's brow creased in worry. "Well...yes, but Ms. Weasley—"

Ginny didn't wait to hear the "but." She literally jumped over Harry, dashing forward so fast and recklessly she nearly knocked over several Order members in her path. Guilt almost as strong as the overwhelming panic squeezing her gut washed through her—Luna had come running for Blaise right away, but in all the excitement of the aftermath, she had completely forgotten about Draco.

Tears of both shame and unadulterated terror streamed down her cheeks as she fairly flew into the Ministry building, her ragged and choked breathing creating an odd cadence with the slam of her feet on tiled floor. Oh, Merlin, she thought frantically. If it didn't work because Lucius is his father, and it threw him off as much as it did Harry...only with no one there to help him... She couldn't finish the thought.

Doors, windows, and small offices all blurred past, and Ginny could not remember the trek through the Ministry of Magic ever having lasted so long. Finally, though, after what seemed a lifetime, she recognized a widening of the corridors that meant the end was approaching. Then she had reached it, the back entrance, only to find it deserted...except for one platinum-haired man, standing with one arm braced against the wall.

She sprinted to him without pause, crashing into him with her arms thrown around his neck, unmindful to possible injury. He let out a surprised grunt and fell back against the wall completely.

"Ow," he muttered.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," she sobbed into his shoulder, ignoring him. "Are you okay? Oh God, I'm so sorry—"

"I'm fine." She felt his arms circle her waist, his face drop into her hair. "Why are you sorry?"

"I should have c-come sooner! I...I should have come the s-second he d-died, I-I," she hiccupped, choking on her tears and simple emotion.

He pulled away just a little then, tilting her head back with a hand at the base of her skull. She opened her mouth for another apology, but all that came out was a strangled gasp as he crushed his lips to hers. Now as the guilt began to fade, pure joy that he was alive, that they were both alive, swept through her, and she ran her hands all over him, checking wordlessly for injury with her fingertips on his skin.

When they finally came up for air, he wrapped her tightly in his arms and whispered, "Did you say someone died?

She smiled, feeling for perhaps the hundredth time today as her eyes welled up. "Yes. Harry killed Voldemort, Draco. ...You're free."

He stared at her a long moment, then broke into a rare smile, wide and bright. Without uttering a word he kissed her again, pulling her hips flush with his, and Ginny could swear she felt his exhilaration flow directly into her. When the embrace broke, she couldn't help but tilt back her head and laugh—laugh because it was all over, laugh because they were together...laugh for the sheer sake of laughing.

Still smiling, he stroked the small of her back and said, "When we get out of here, we are going to find a bed, and I am not letting you out of it for a very, very long time."

She grinned. "Promise?"

He nodded solemnly. "Swear." He breathed out a sigh that seemed to carry with it all of his remaining anxiety. "It's hard to believe he's really gone...I guess that does explain it though."

"Explain what?"

He lifted up his head, gazing at some point past her. "My father was...talking, but all of a sudden him and all his men started practically screaming, and they just apparated away. Must have been when Voldemort died."

She nodded slowly, watching him carefully. His face was too impassive, his voice too bland—there was something more he wasn't telling her. "Yeah, the Death Eaters all did that on our end, too." She hesitated, then reached up a hand to gently smooth back some of his unkempt hair. "You're sure you're alright? Nothing else happened? You look the worse for wear."

He smiled wryly. "Thank you ever so much for that."

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. You look like you've been through hell."

He shrugged—again, too nonchalantly for there really to be nothing more. "Well, my fa...Lucius did figure out a way to hurt me despite the shield. He did something to the Malfoy crest on my arm, and the shield couldn't stop it. Probably the same thing that happened to their Marks when Voldemort died. I'm okay, though."

She eyed him suspiciously, but when he simply stared back she sighed, knowing she would get nothing more from him. "What about the stunner? From your shield, I mean. It didn't work for Harry..."

Draco looked surprised. "I didn't even think of that. But no, it didn't work." He frowned, seeming thoroughly bewildered.

Ginny moved towards the exit, waving for him to follow. "Come on, let's get back to the others. I'll explain on the way."

She was surprised and more than a little pleased when he stepped forward and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was such a simple gesture, but as they turned and made their way back through the Ministry and he kept holding on, it meant everything.

Everyone who had fought now walked up the long path leading into Hogwarts (anyone unable to walk, like Blaise, carried on stretchers), ready to tell those gathered within the good news. Draco watched Ginny as she talked animatedly with her brother, her hair blowing free in the wind. He knew that she knew more had happened to him today than he let on, but she also knew him well enough to let it go, for which he was grateful.

Maybe he would tell her one day how close he came to dying at his own father's hands, how if Potter had waited just one more moment to cast the Killing Curse, Lucius would have had the time to finish his own Avada Kedavra instead of just getting out the "Avada" half...maybe one day. But not this one. He wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it just yet himself, and even if he was, he didn't want Ginny to have to deal with that knowledge...at least not right now.

She hung back to allow him to catch up, apparently whatever conversation she had been having with the Weasel King finished. "You're not still sore over what I did, are you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I told you not to go near Potter. If not for Blaise, you would have died. You realize that, don't you?" He had spoken with Dumbledore and Potter earlier, comparing reports more or less, and Draco had learned then of the role Ginny had played. He had stubbornly ignored her ever since.

She sighed. "I did what had to be done, Draco. It's in the past, and I'm alive and well; so's Blaise." She smiled lightly, taking his hands. "Come on, Draco, be mad at me tomorrow. I want to enjoy today."

He wanted to stay angry at her, he really did, but try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to—he had come far too close to losing her today, both through his own death and hers. There was also the matter of his pre-certain-death revelations of marriage to consider. As he brought an arm around her waist, basking in the warmth of her pleased smile, he wondered when he would tell her all that he had discovered about his hidden desires, so secret not even he had been able to see them. Now wasn't the right time...but soon, perhaps.

"Are you going to help Harry round up the rest of the Death Eaters?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.

He was silent a moment, pondering the question. "Probably. I won't be able to really rest until I know that they're all dealt with, I don't think. Leaderless or no, they'll still be a nuisance, I'm sure."

She nodded. "Right, I'm going with you then."

He groaned. "Ginny..."

"Don't even try it, Draco Malfoy," she said stubbornly. "If you're going, so am I."

He shook his head. "We'll see." But they both knew she would.

Hogwarts drew nearer now, the great entryway doors within shouting distance. Draco raised his eyebrows as a girl suddenly tore out of the castle like the very devil was on her heels. She pelted across the grounds, eating up the distance in a way that he would have claimed impossible were he not witnessing it with his own eyes.

"Who is that?"

Ginny was leaning forward a little, squinting, and then her eyebrows suddenly rose as well when she recognized the girl. "She's in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class...Sarah Dannahey, I think. A Ravenclaw...reminds me of a less bossy version of Hermione."

"Well what the bloody hell is she doing?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno."

As the girl got closer, it was clear she was heading towards one person in particular. She suddenly cried out, "Harry!" and threw herself at the man directly after. Draco's eyebrows rose a little higher at the girl's behavior, then shot into his hairline when Potter started snogging the girl like she was the very oxygen he breathed. Ginny was laughing like mad at his side, clutching at her ribs.

"And what is so bloody funny, Weasley?"

She wiped her eyes, still shaking with lingering laughter. "I can't believe it!" she gasped. "Blaise was right! He was around Harry for about two minutes and guessed that he'd fallen for a student, and he was right."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I can't watch this—it's sickening."

"Oh come on, it's sweet."

"You say everything even remotely romantic is sweet."

She grinned. "I can't help that I'm a romantic person, can I?" Her grin turned into a slow, seductive sort of smile that made his breath catch in his throat. She trailed her fingers over his chest and down his abdomen, fingering his belt teasingly. "Does that bother you?" she asked in a breathy whisper, eyes dark and playful.

Oh yes, he would definitely be telling her about those marriage revelations very soon.

A/N - Well, I had planned to write an epilogue, but all the loose ends seem to be tied up quite nicely and writing more would be like beating a dead horse, SO I think I'm actually going to just leave it at this.

To all those who read, who ever reviewed, but especially to those who reviewed almost every chapter—thank you so so much for all the encouragement. I have read each and every review I have ever received ever, and I appreciate each and every one. I can't tell you how grateful I am.

If you'd like to read more by me, you can check out my newest novel-length D/G entitled Not Quite Fate. Or you can visit my profile page and browse through my one-shots. Thanks!