Author's Preface: ... And here, ladies and gentlemen, we now come to a (hopefully) sufficient textual closure for our rather abruptly-ended story. (And YES, I know and admit it - I am most certainly guilty of having a despoiled motivation for finishing the full tale properly, (that is) with an ever-inspired catalyst canonizing along the face to its full catalog... I'm so sorry; that's all I can really say :/.)


Chapter 22 The Finality for All Things

EPILOGUE

Draco awoke startled. He'd had another terrible dream. Yes, he still did suffer from these sorts of night terrors, and much too frequently at that. He indeed dreamed of the war all the time, nonstop even, ever since it had ended, just about a full year or so ago now, with Harry triumphing over Voldemort with the Draught of Destruction. After, they had each sped up the game and finished school early, everyone minus Ginny of course, being a whole year behind them and all. None of them ever had to worry about working again, as they'd each gotten so much money from the Ministry of Magic for all the special services they did. In sadder news, however, Dumbledore had passed away a few short months after the war's conclusion. Not one person ever had truly realized how much Dumbledore had aged, which easily must've been the reason it came as a pure shock to all. (Or so at least Draco, half-baffled, guessed.)

Shortly thereafter as well, Hermione and Draco went on to buy a nice little house in London. Harry, who was now ecstatic to be engaged to Cho, came over for visits all the time. Ginny was meanwhile still finishing up her last year at Hogwarts respectively, anxious as ever to leave. Though Voldemort was gone, many Death Eaters still roamed the streets free. Sometimes the Ministry would run to Harry or Draco or Hermione desperate for help, but only if they were lucky would they actually get it. The Ministry of Magic had still much, MUCH humbling to do before the trio's behalf after all. The very made-public obstacles caused by its workers and leaders had countless times imposed great damage on their pursuit to end Voldemort's treachery, and that was not easily forgotten.

As for the rest of the masses spectating unsympathetically at their shoulders, the wizarding world seemed to have particular difficulty with the whole recovery process. Although well-known the fact of Harry's ultimate vanquishing of "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" indeed was, the wizarding people's minds seemed irreversibly embedded with the ever-haunting image of the Dark Lord and his unspeakable treacheries. A year passed and there still lingered firm the eating aura of graveness and worry polluting the air. Every second of every day surely could (and would!) be the one when all the danger, all the murderous wipeout and mass destruction, somehow returned - regardless whether that even made sense in light of Voldemort's for-a-year-now-deceased state. If nothing else, it was at very least no secret to all that the Ministry of Magic even now still struggled to attain custody of top, now rogue Death Eaters who at least currently remained to roam free.

Boy oh boy. Merlin's beard had so much changed over the last couple of years for Draco! He generally supposed it was for the better, though. Thinking pleasant thoughts like this in his retrospective reverie, Draco Malfoy, but a young man with nothing short the whole world and all of its opportunities at his oyster, smiled to himself before drifting into an unusually serene, deep-seated (and hopefully dreamless) sleep. Only time could tell what would happen with this special Slytherin boy, the infamously hated and loved Draco Malfoy, whose hopeless soul was but forsaken to the misguidedness of a half-emptied, yet half-fulled heart...


Author's Final Endnote: I really wish I could have finished this, but I know I really can't, and I don't think I will get a chance very soon at all. So much his going on in my life lately. But I couldn't leave it just hanging, so I wrote this. I'm sorry.