Hey guys! First of all, I wanted to thank all of you so much for the incredible reception you gave this story. I know it's practically cliché to say it was overwhelming, but when you've given up on a set of characters for eight months and then pick them back up again cold turkey, it's nice to find that you still have the same connection with them that got you to do this in the first place. You all have helped me rediscover my love for these characters, so I thought I'd give you guys a brief, fluffy epilogue to cap things off. Thanks again, I couldn't have asked for a better response.

She's on the couch. The remote is on the nightstand, a daunting 39 inches away. Clearly, there's only one thing to be done.

"Accio," she breathes, raising her forefinger in the proper direction, "accio remote."

The remote doesn't move.

"Accio," she tries again, "accio! Accio accio accio accio!"

Chloe arrives somewhere between the third and fifth accio.

"Accio! Accio please?"

Chloe gives a quick laugh.

"You're trying to use a summoning charm on the remote again aren't you?"


"And you're failing again aren't you?"

"Well I hardly see the need to rub it in."

Chloe smiles as she grabs the remote, plopping down next to Beca on the couch.

"Silly Beca," she laughs before placing a soft kiss on her cheek, "everyone knows that you can't wandlessly perform a summing charm. That's not even O.W.L level magic."

"Well I did barely manage to pass my exams. Those N.E.W.T.S were particularly nasty."

"Well no wonder you you weren't offered a position at the ministry. We're lucky one of us studied or else we'd be stuck living on your Diagon Alley paycheck."

"I'll have you know that Borgin and Borkes' commission-based pay scale is competitive with any private firm in the Wizarding World."

"Oh clearly, those plaid robes just scream high society."

"Well we can't all be pure-blood princesses like you now can we Mrs. Mitchell-Beale? Some of us have to make to make tough financial decisions."

"Let the record show that you're the one who played the race card. Even if I am technically muggle born, I still love my grungy little Hogwarts dropout. Plaid robes and all."

A quick peck on the cheek.


"You see my doubts here, right?"

"I do, I just choose to ignore them. We've been putting this off for years. I'm not letting one bad experience with one bad person turn you off of this forever."

"If we're being technical it was two bad experiences. Or three, really."

"Yea but I don't care about two of those. I just need you to go one-for-eight here. Besides, you're not doing this for the subject, you're doing it for the direct object. I think you've got a pretty good one the second time around."

She thinks this is why she loves her. Beca has a way of living her life in absolutes, in black and white. Something is good, or something is bad. Chloe shatters those walls into a pool of rainbows. She lets Beca live her life without judgement, to immerse herself between the lines rather than picking a side to plant herself on. She helps her find the joy in anything and everything.

"Well, I guess if you're 100% sure," Beca doubts.

"Trust me, I am."

"Ok, then let's do it."

"Yay!" She beams, "I'll even make the popcorn! Let The Prisoner of Azkaban begin!"

Beautiful. Amazing. A masterpiece. These are the words Beca uses to describe Chloe as she loses herself in the story. Oh, and the movie's not half bad either.

"So what'd you think?"

"I really liked it."

"I knew you would. I just knew it."

Their silence is comfortable, well-used negative space. It's broken by curiosity.

"So what do you think your Patronus would be?" Chloe asks.

"What would yours be?"

"That's a good question," she wonders, "I think it would be a fox."

"And why is that?" Beca asks, almost rhetorically. She's had this figured out for years.

"It just suits me. Sure it's red, and sure I'm obviously just as cunning, but I don't know, it's just the animal I picture myself as."

"I couldn't agree more."

"So what would yours be?"

"A fox," Beca smiles, "my Patronus is a fox."