To say the Great Hall was destroyed was an understatement: it was a bloody carnage. Everything was torn down, windows shattered, rubble, plaster of marble, and bricks piled like mountains in the small, open space. Yet, what Draco found most haunting, what plagued him more than the stench of dirt and blood when he walked into the grand room, were the bodies. They rested where the House tables should be, most of them no longer living while a petrifying few received medical care. 

Draco slowed his march further into the Great Hall when he saw a huddled group of familiar redheads sobbing over the body of one of the Weasley twins. He watched Granger walk over to them, her crying soon mixing in with the family's, and he felt his chest ache. He hardly was friendly with the fallen twin, but he knew how brave he had been — how brave they all had been. 

Then he saw the bodies of Nymphadora and her husband pressed together, eyes no longer seeing.

Draco could not identify what it was that crash and broke in his chest, just that it hurt. It hurt so bloody much he could hardly breathe. There was Nymphadora, Tonks, Dora, his cousin, with her face sliced, skin purple and green and pale, wounds of battle, wounds of a fighter, and her pink hair faded into a mousy brown. He didn't know much about her, only what he had gathered in his Body Swamp with Granger, but he knew her death was a loss to the world. She had been bubbly and fierce, loyal and caring....She had been his family.

When he realized this, that this dead woman was his blood, Draco stumbled back only to be caught by a friend. Blaise had been sitting with his girlfriend, trying to go undetected by all the Death Eater Haters in the vicinity while he comforted Parvati for her loss. Her gaze had been lost on the sea of bodies littered across the floor, pain and grief heavy on her tan features. 

The two friends sat together, not bothered by the wounds they had collected during the battle (well, the damage Granger had allowed his body to gain after she ran rampant with it), and they contemplated how wrong they had been. The aftermath of this ghastly war, all the fallen people around them, were the consequences of those Draco and Blaise had once believed in, those they once supported and now detested. 

Then they left the crumbled Great Hall for the courtyards. The Dark Lord led his Death Eaters and Hagrid carried a body in his meaty arms.

'Harry Potter is dead!'

Screams pierced the grey skies and his blood ran cold as he recognized Granger's sobs. In that moment, as every loyal supporter of Boy Wonder shrieked their denial, Draco felt hope inside of him die. He felt like all of his chances of redeeming himself died along with Potter.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to be with Granger? How was he supposed to fight beside her if the battle had already ceased? What would become of them now, of her?

'Draco.'

He had been startled out of his pondering mind. He had looked up to find the piercing blue eyes of his mother looking at him, her voice calling him to join her. He knew he'd always been a proper git to the world, but he did have a heart and he'd used most of it to love his mother. Seeing her, he couldn't have helped the feeling of absolute longing for her, of nostalgia. He had missed her.

Without taking a minute to contemplate on what to do next, Draco let his feet move and drag him over back to the Dark Side. He heard a choked sob coming from Potter's loyal admirers, and he'd known who it had belonged to, but he didn't take the liberty to look back. He just wanted his mother.

His mother held onto his hand, squeezing his fingers with so much might he wondered where the hell she had gotten all that strength from. He squeezed back,too, when the voice of Longbottom entered his eardrums and things once again became hectic.

Potter had jumped out of the arms of Hagrid, like the proper Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die, and Draco hadn't known what possessed him to act. He had glanced at his mother, at his father even, but he also knew that he wanted someone on the Light Side. When Potter had given indication that he was alive and there was still a chance for Draco to get back to a certain Gryffindor Bookworm, he made the quick choice to toss his wand to his childhood nemesis and run to the girl he loved.

The war had raged on again....

"Brought you some things." Malfoy was swept away from the memories of the final battle that had taken place not three hours ago as Granger entered through the beaten and worn door of a destroyed classroom.

He didn't say anything to her as a response, he just watched her reach him and kneel beside his seat on the bench. She set a few bottles she was juggling on the floor next to her tucked legs, her hands reaching for his and turning them over on his lap so they were facing up. She grabbed the smallest bottle and pulled out the dropper, squeezing out three little drops to both of his hands. Not being quite done with her work, she turned back to his hands and rubbed the Essence of Dittany into his torn skin and its scrapes, gently pressing and massaging with her fingertips.

Draco watched her fragile-looking hands for a moment, observing that they, too, had their own share of cuts and gashes. But she didn't care, did she? She forgot completely about her wounds and grabbed another bottle.

She rolled the sleeves of his torn shirt, exposing gashes running along his arms he hadn't known were there. She grabbed the new bottle, pouring some of its contents onto her fingertips again to run them on his skin. She massaged the thick and yellow Murtlap Essence, the stinging of his wounds already soothing by her ministrations.

Lifting herself a few inches higher, Granger stretched her fingertips to his face. Gently, like she had already been treating his cuts, she dabbed the Murtlap Essence on various spots on his face. They were so caressing, her fingers, and her face looked fully concentrated, showing that she was making sure she did every precise dab with care.

Taking in a deep inhale, his mind rushing with the memories of a few hours ago, he grabbed her outstretched arms, halting her healing him.

Her eyes widened a little, confusion pooling into her brown eyes as Draco narrowed his grey ones at her. 

"I didn't leave you," he muttered, not sure why it came out so low and intense. "Before Potter...I just wanted to see my mother, Granger."

Hermione tugged her arms away from Malfoy, watching as his silver gaze turned hurt and slightly angered. "Don't explain yourself to me," she told him. "I would've done the same thing."

She turned away from him, taking the last bottle she had brought in with her.

"You're not upset?"

"I was scared, yes," she replied sincerely, looking back up at him. "I thought the worst, Malfoy, I can't pretend otherwise, but then I thought about my own parents. If they had been on the opposite end of where I was, I would cross it without a look back. I can't judge you for that." She then smiled at him softly, leaning back up to him. "Besides...you gave Harry your wand. You helped the outcome of this war, Malfoy."

He made a displeased face. "He better still have it. It was a loan, not a bloody gift."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she took off the stopper of the potion vial. "A brat as always," she mumbled, lifting the potion to him. "Take this."

At the herb and iron smell that came off of it, he asked, "What is it?"

"It's erm...a Blood-Replenishing Potion I made a few weeks ago." She was suddenly cautious, her walls of protection going up immediately as she remembered the fight she had with Malfoy what seemed like ages ago now. They had fought over this particular potion because he didn't want to have anything in his possession that had her 'dirty' blood in it.

Noticing her worry, it was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. He yanked the vial from her, swinging back the nasty-tasting potion and swallowing it completely with nothing but a grimace. "Honestly, Granger," he scoffed, "I tell you that I love you, and you still think that your blood status is a—"

The rest was rudely cut off when Hermione launched herself forward, knocking him flat on his back. And if she was so rudely devouring his mouth with her own, who the hell was he to stop her? He didn't have any manners of his own, mind you; that's why he gripped her waist like she was a lifeline and held on tightly and selfishly.

There was still this insane amount of passion, of need, of utter longing as she shoved her fingers into his hair, tugging at his roots, and he pulled her body flush against his to feel her heat. Neither knew why what they felt was so intense, but it wasn't something either of them cared to figure out. Whatever it was, however consuming it was, it was fucking delicious and addicting.

Not liking the fact that she seemed to be the one in control, with her being on him and all, Draco gripped her tight and raised himself up on his feet. She clung onto him, but he heard her give out a groan of protest. Seeing as he never really was one to let a Gryffindor get away with ordering him around, even if he had let her do just that some rare times, he placed her back onto the surface of a desk.

Feeling like a right lucky git that the desk was sturdy, even after most of the classroom had been destroyed, he removed his arms from around her and used his hands to caress her now. While she was still tugging at the roots of his hair, surprising him by the intensity she was doing it with, he let one of his hands slip inside her torn shirt while the other went to the back of her neck. He felt the flesh of her flat abdomen contract, excitement passing through her and slapping against him full speed as she didn't protest his daring move.

His fingertips had traced patterns on her stomach, but after a few seconds he went up. He had forbidden himself to look or feel Granger's body when he'd been posing as her, seeing as it was the most courteous thing to do, but at the moment he reached her breasts, he really wished he would have. They were glorious.

Moving her lips from his mouth, taking the moment to gasp as he knead, she placed them on his neck. Right as she sunk her teeth into the tender flesh of his throat, while he let out a growl and knead some more, there was a loud clearing of the throat, making them halt, eyes wide open.

"You've just won a war, but you are still hormonal teenagers." Narrowing blue eyes at the two students tangled around each other, Aphrodite Venus crossed her arms over her chest. "The only strong side-effect of the curse, so I really can't blame you."

Hermione shoved Malfoy away from her, sitting upright instantly. She didn't bother to flush in embarrassment as she frowned at the woman. "Curse?"

"It's more of an enchantment, really," Ms. Venus waved it off casually. "Be thankful that's the only strong side-effect. Before I perfected it, both of the participants were especially hairy. It would take almost a month until they stopped looking like half-turned beasts."

Swinging her legs off of the desk, making sure she didn't kick Malfoy, who had to take a seat on the bench to cover his lap, Hermione glared. "You cursed us? You made us switch bodies? Are you insane?"

"Watch your tone, Miss Granger," the elderly and refined witch told the girl. "And, yes, I did choose you two for the Body-Switch enchantment."

Knowing that she should've been more respectful, Hermione couldn't bring herself to be so. Maybe she had been stuck as Malfoy for too long. "Do you know the danger you put us in?" she shouted. "Do you even realize how many times Malfoy and I were close to death because of this? You sent me to a house full of Death Eaters and you had him running around as a Muggle-born!"

"You were perfectly safe," Ms. Venus responded, completely collected. "Professor Snape was watching you, Miss Granger. He was under strict orders not to let anything happen to you. And as for Mister Malfoy, well...Mister Potter was aware of your situation a few days before today."

"Potter knew?" Malfoy made himself known now. "And he didn't curse me to my death?" He scoffed, frowning now. "I suppose we're even then."

Hermione threw Draco a disapproving glare before turning back to Aphrodite. "Why would Snape help? He betrayed the Order! Surely he wanted me—" She stopped herself, her brain working fast. "But that doesn't make sense," she mumbled. "He killed Dumbledore. Why would he bother?"

"There's a lot of things you aren't aware of yet, Miss Granger," the woman spoke once more, halting the girl before her brilliant head decided to come up with a hypothesis. "I'm sure Mister Potter will explain everything to you when the moment is right. But for now, you should only know two things. One, I was brought here from Greece at Dumbledore's request last year. He knew he was going to die, and he wanted a favor from an old friend."

Hermione raised her brow again, confused.

"Are you aware of the Greek Gods and Goddesses, Miss Granger?"

 "Aphrodite, Goddess of Love—wait, you're telling me you're a Greek Goddess? That all that muggle mythology is true?"

"Surely you can't be so closed-minded, Miss Granger. There's more to the world than what you see and what's printed as true on books."

Malfoy let out a mocking chuckle, not being able to contain himself. He coughed to hide it, but Hermione still swatted him on the chest.

Aphrodite shook her head; that was evidence enough of the type of relationship that awaited both students with each other. 

"Dumbledore hoped several people would get a second chance through all of this. He believed all dark barriers could be broken down, and that love was the powerful tool to do so. It was a risky choice selecting you two, but I saw potential. It could've been deadly, that was very clear as day seeing how much you two infuriated one another. However, I've always believed there is a fine line between hate and love.

"And that's the final thing you should know—the love that came from this. There will be obstacles to come, both of you are smart enough to figure that out, but I promise you that after walking in each others shoes, a link like that is unbreakable. So the question for you to ponder over now is this: are you willing to fight another battle to keep one another?"

Hermione and Draco turned to each other instantly as the woman turned on her heels to leave. As both once-enemies pondered her last words, Aphrodite Venus already knew the answer and the outcome.

Fate was sealed.

X

A few hours had passed since the battle, since Harry Potter, the glorious Savior of the World, beat and destroyed Lord Voldemort for the last time and definitely for good. People begun to gather their dead, moving the bodies to decent locations until someone decided it was time to face the evidence of their loss rather than their memory. People huddled together in the destroyed Great Hall, all wanting to be one with their fellow comrades and friends, grateful for the breaths they were taking.

They survived the war.

It was only a matter of time before someone decided to take the initiative to start making choices again, especially since there no longer was a Headmaster at Hogwarts or an honorable Minister of Magic. It was evident to all of them that no one really knew how to go about this, the hours after the greatest war came to its conclusive end, and no one wanted to be the one to turn and ask Harry Potter to make the choices now. He had gone through enough —everyone had gone through enough; so they waited.

"When do you think they'll come for us?" Theodore Nott flashed his eyes in the direction of a friend. "I was thinking about running, but then I figured they'd catch me...and I really don't need to add that to my record, do I?"

Sitting on a barely manageable bench, Blaise didn't look up to face his housemate immediately. There was a girl with her head on his lap, resting gently, eyes closed and oblivious to anything else. He kept stroking her thick, black hair, smoothing out the knots and moving the strands away from her face. She was all scratched up, that beautiful and silky dark skin of her face marked with dried blood, wounds, and forming scars that would need the help of magic to go away.

Running his fingertips carefully on her cheek for another second, Zabini finally turned to look at his fellow Slytherin. "You'll be alright," he said, not particularly reassuring. "You don't have the dark mark, Nott. They won't come after you."

Narrowing his eyes at his friend, slowly moving from glaring at his hold on the witch on his lap, Nott turned them to his covered arm. "You have the dark mark," he stated grudgingly, "but you've never touched a soul. You've never tortured anyone, never hexed someone who was tied up or defenseless. They said you were weak, Zabini, and it was a wonder to everyone how you managed to pass under the Dark Lord's radar. But you did; you were never forced to attack."

Blaise narrowed his eyes. Yes, he never was forced to play target practice with the people held prisoners in Malfoy Manor,  and yes, he was weak and incapable to mutilate someone on a lone order, but that had cost him his mother. They had murdered his mother for his incompetence, for his lack of Death Eater morale. He had paid the price.

"You may have the dark mark, Zabini," Nott continued, straightening up on the pile of rubble he was sitting on, "but I've done things to land me in Azkaban without one."

"Both of you will be going to Azkaban."Carefully approaching the corner where two of her housemates sat, Daphne Greengrass appeared with a very tired expression that was equally as blotched and bruised. "All of the people we know will be going to Azkaban, actually."

"Cheers, Greengrass. Way to boost—"

"But the thing is, only a few of you will come out," Daphne finished her thought, cutting across Nott and his frowning blue eyes. "We really didn't have a choice, did we? People think those of us raised as fully breed purebloods had a chance to choose what side we wanted to be in, but that wasn't the case. We only knew what we were taught, family duty and all. Nothing more."

Shifting the weight on one leg to another, especially since they were still hurting with the tingles of hexes thrown at her, Daphne only paused for a moment before continuing. "If my mother hadn't been killed like a common animal, my views and place in all of this wouldn't have changed and I would've been in the same spot as all of you. And even though we know good from bad, we're still kids—you're still kids. Neither of you had it easy, and you did what you needed to do. Now what's going to keep you out of Azkaban for good is making the adequate choice from this moment onward. Use the fact that you were forced into all of this, but stay on the right path to survive because everything's about to change."

Zabini and Nott glanced at one another for a quick second, before even acknowledging the girl before them with a proper response. They had avoided her from the start of Seventh Year, even most of Sixth Year as well, though both for different reasons. The Greengrass family, among all the purebloods, were cast away and labeled as Blood Traitors and the children of the other families were forced and encouraged to keep their distance from the two girls. No one in Slytherin paid any attention to them, except for only a few loyal girls who had stuck by Astoria Greengrass' side, but none had remained loyal to Daphne.

Nott had been great friends with her once. He had been a charming boy with great jokes to tell and have intense study sessions with whenever they'd been paired to do work together. They had known each other since they were children, and though he could always be a crude git when he wanted, he was still her friend and treated her as such. Then when word had gotten out that the Greengrass family had fallen from the Dark Lord's graces, he treated her like a part of the background and avoided her at all costs.

Things with Blaise and Daphne had been different than with the others who she had called friends. Though they had officially met at the start of Third Year, Zabini had a way to charm and crawl his way into a girl's heart. He was reserved, funny at times, polite, handsome, and tender when he wanted to be, and Daphne had gotten her view of that. They started dating at the end of Fourth Year, proceeding onto a very bubbly summer romance, and then to a more serious relationship during Fifth Year. Then it had all changed; Daphne's mother was dead and she withdrew from everyone, the same way they were withdrawing from her. Though they had never said those three intimate words to one another, their affection came to a pause and Zabini was forced to step away from her and she was all but inclined to let him.

Although Daphne could be a foul bitch when she wanted, behavior and attitude that had been learned and modeled after by Pansy Parkinson and other Slytherin girls, she had a secret heart of gold buried in a block of ice. And though they had rejected her like the way they rejected everyone else they deemed unworthy, Daphne had always kept true to one fact: Slytherins watch out for their own.

"So, how's Astoria?" Nott was the first to speak, clearing his throat from the silence. "I saw her get hexed by Yaxley when she tried helping Finnegan earlier."

Daphne was about to answer, but her was momentarily halted when Nott rose from his seat and walked to her, taking her arm in a soft grip. Obviously aware that she was in pain by just standing, he sat her down on his pile of rubble like a gentleman.

"She's with them," she replied after she crushed her surprise. "With Finnegan and Padma Patil, actually. Seems like those D.A. members stick by your side when you help them out in battle."

"Were you sticking by Dean Thomas before coming here, Greengrass?" Nott asked, smirking at her suddenly pink cheeks.

"Not really your concern, is it?"

"Just curious to know when you became friends with him, that's all," Theo added. "Or maybe he's undercover, waiting to throw you into Azkaban along with us."

"He fancies her—" Before Daphne could retaliate and the odd moment of an attempt of rekindled friendship could be ruined, the girl on Blaise's lap stirred and her brown eyes came to life. "I don't really know how it happened, not that he would tell me anyway, but I know he does. For a while we all suspected he was being all mopey for Luna, but no...it was for her. You're the reason why his heart is broken, Greengrass."

Daphne turned to Parvati, brows furrowed. "I'm not going to tell you anything, Patil, so mind as well get that curious look off your face."

Parvati grinned as she pulled herself out of Blaise's lap to adjust herself next to him on the worn bench. "I'm not telling you to, I'm just gossiping," she said. "As such, I think you should know he thinks you won't consider him good enough. I don't know exactly what's the story behind you two, but one thing's certain, Greengrass...He's more than you deserve."

Putting a hand on the Parvati's knee, gently rubbing the skin that was exposed from her ripped tights, Blaise smiled calmly at her.

"Oh, for Salazar's sake," Theo groaned, looking thoroughly disgusted and upset. "Do you fancy Thomas, Daphne? What is with Slytherins turning into Gryffindor lovers? First, Zabini and Patil, now you and Thomas? Next thing you know, Astoria will be dating Finnegan and Malfoy will marry the Bookworm!"

Before anything else could be said, Nott turned on his heels and marched away.. He hadn't a clue what was going on with his housemates, or with anything at this point, really, but he needed to find a distraction. So as he walked away, leaving Blaise in the awkward current-girlfriend-talks-to-the-old-girlfriend scenario, he decided to go look for Pansy. Maybe she would finally let go of her rubbish behavior and she'd be willing to go snog in some random broomstick closet.

Having watched Nott storm away, there was a pair of bright, shining eyes that noticed him shove by a few people; two of them being Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

Malfoy stood tall and poised, a guarded look to his silver eyes, and Hermione walked along with him, pressed to his side, gravitating toward him, her eyes swimming with worry but determination.

Harry Potter put on a dim smile as he pulled away from the small group of Weasleys and friends gathered around him, heading for his friend as he came to a rapid observation.

"You're back," was the first thing he said when he was close enough to her, a smile tugging at his lips. Without waiting for a response, he did something very Hermione-like; he launched himself forward and pulled her into the tightest embrace he had yet to give in his lifetime.

Letting out a breath she had been containing when she saw Harry make his way to her, Hermione squeezed him back. He smelled awful, like sweat, dust and blood, but she found that he felt like warmth and affection. He was a part of her; her brother, if not by blood then definitely my soul and heart.

She sniffled a little, not being able to contain the nostalgia and the other sentiments she felt. She missed him greatly since the first day she'd been caught in Malfoy's body; now he was right there. Before, she hadn't any clue when she was going to be able to walk in her own shoes again, she had been desperate to help him with the hunt for the last Horcruxes, to be there for him, to tell him everything was going to be alright—but she had never gotten the chance. And when she heard You-Know-Who scream with great pleasure that Harry was dead, she felt like a piece of her had gone with him. It was torture to know she'd never gotten the chance to say a proper goodbye.

Malfoy frowned at the very intimate way the two Gryffindors embraced one another, just as he was about to yank the jumped up Bookworm away from the Boy Wonder, the latter did it for him.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry whispered.

"What for?" she asked immediately after, furrowing her brows.

Harry glanced over at his childhood nemesis, narrowing his eyes at him with a bit of a frown, too.  "Well, you know..."

"That wasn't your fault," Hermione replied in a serious tone. "Malfoy and I would've never been caught in that situation if we hadn't hated each other. Apparently our immense dislike for one another was perfect for Dumbledore's final glory plan of redemption and second chances."

Harry deepened his frown, he hadn't missed the past-tense in which she regarded her very comfortable hate toward the bouncing ferret. As silence seemed like it was going to grip them he said, "Ron knows. I told him."

Boy-Who-Lived had somehow summoned the missing piece of the Golden Trio the moment he mentioned his name. Weasley approached slowly, hands inside his torn pockets, and a bubble of different emotions flashing in his red-rimmed eyes. He was equally as bruised and tattered like everyone else, dried blood all over his clothing and some slices on his visible skin, but he hadn't looked in complete pain as he stopped before his friends and his enemy.

Hermione stood rigid, swallowing a knot in her throat. She had missed him too. She had missed Ron as desperately as the way she had Harry. "Ron...I, erm..."

"Don't," he interrupted her, shaking his head at the already-forming apology. "Harry told me what happened. I was a second away from cursing Malfoy to his death," a snort was heard in the background that did not belong to any of the Golden Trio, but they all ignored it, "but then I remembered you were there, outside of the Hospital Wing, posing as Malfoy, and...you were going mad with wanting to see him..."

There was a pause, Ron and Hermione looked deeply at each other as Harry and Malfoy felt the awkward tension immediately. Malfoy found himself contracting his fist, trying to ignore the anger and the twitching of his fingers to reach for his Bookworm and tug her away from the lingering eyes of the Weasel. Harry, on the other hand, looked like he was about to get hit in the face with a beater's bat.

"Tell me it's not because I left, 'Mione," Ron whispered. "Tell me what you and I...what we felt...Tell me I didn't ruin that when I left you and Harry. Tell me you didn't grow disappointed in me and that's why you stopped...why you..."

Hermione inhaled, but she held the air inside her mouth for a few seconds. She didn't know how to reply to Ron. She didn't know how to tell him when she had stopped feeling something for him, when he had gone back from being the tingles of butterflies in her stomach to her annoying best friend. Maybe it had been when he'd left; after she had practically begged for him to come back but he disapparated anyway. Maybe it was then, but maybe she had stopped feeling at all after the torture Bellatrix Lestrange gave her.

Maybe Malfoy had woken up a side to her that she'd hidden due to the pressures of war.

She exhaled. "I don't care about that anymore, Ronald," she said. "What I feel for Malfoy, that's—"

"How do you know he won't hurt you?" Ron interrupted, his freckled complexion showing his anger and confusion. "How do you know you'll be happy with him, Hermione?"

"Listen, Weasley, you—"

Putting a calming palm on Malfoy's arm, holding him back, Hermione looked at her two best friends without any confusion, questioning, or worry. This was it. 

"I don't," she said to them. "I don't know if he'll hurt me or not, or if I'll end up hurting him, really. I don't know what the future has planned for us, but all I really do know is I want to find out. And I want him right there next to me."

Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione was not through yet. "I don't expect you two to befriend Malfoy, but I expect you to offer the same support I've given you all these years. And if you can't find it in yourselves to do that for me, well..."

"We'll be right there with you, 'Mione," Harry was the one to answer, a tired smile on his face flashing at her before it was flashed at his other best friend. "Won't we, Ron?"

Ron frowned, and just as he'd turned to look at Hermione, having to find a way to suck up his pride and just let her go, just let her be with that worthless blonde fucker he detested, he caught sight of a few people entering the Great Hall.

"Someone's looking for you," he said, pointing a finger at the grand doors.

Hermione and Draco turned; the people were Mister and Mrs. Malfoy, accompanied by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Augusta Longbottom. They talked in hushed whispers, but Kingsley and Mrs. Longbottom looked thoroughly serious as the two Malfoys remained cold and silent.

About to walk away as soon as he saw Shacklebolt say one last thing to his parents before leading Longbottom's grandmother away, Malfoy turned back and frowned at the lack of movement Hermione had given. "Come," he said to her, extending his hand out to her.

"I don't think—"

"Oh, shut it, then," Draco hissed at her, grabbing one of her hands and leading her away. If she had faced her fears, confronting Potter and the Weasel, then he could face his own. Just because he had stood in silence as she had her touchy moment with her friends did not mean he didn't know the great effort and sacrifice she was making by doing so. Just because he was an insensitive person did not mean that he did not appreciate the gesture she was making for them — for him.

He had already chosen a side that did not include her without knowing it the moment he had gone for his mother when the Dark Lord had claimed his alleged victory, and he had felt the immense and dire need to go back to her the moment he had. He didn't have a clue how Granger snuck her way so deep into him, but he didn't want to let her go. He didn't want to have to choose a side again, and definitely not one where she was not included.

Blinking blue eyes found the coming figures of two teenagers without missing their clasped hands. "Draco," Narcissa Malfoy called.

"Mother," Draco politely answered, looking at his mother for a quick moment before turning to the rigid man next to her.

His parents stared at him with cautioned, cold eyes. They stood tall, proud, and almighty; just the way they were used to posing in front of crowds. Though their usual expensive robes were ripped, their smooth and clean skin dirty and slightly wounded, and their usually silky blonde hair knotted, they still radiated aloofness and poise.

They were both confused, staring at the intertwined fingers the two teenagers had with disdain, with a little skepticism, and maybe with what appeared to be anger.

Narcissa zeroed her vision at her son, and any comment she'd been ready to say were halted when she noticed the clear dry patches of Murtlap Essence on his face covering his wounds and healing them. She blinked down, scanning him, and she saw the same yellowish paste on various locations on her son's skin. As she inspected him, she noticed the healthier glow he was giving underneath all that dirt and dried blood. The last time she saw him he had looked like death..

Moving her cold eyes from her precious son, Mrs. Malfoy glanced at the girl next to him. She still bore the same wounds she had when Narcissa saw her running after her son, fighting courageously against those she called enemies and threats. Her hands were still sliced, her face was still collecting blood in several spots, and her lip was still busted. She was bruised and looked completely exhausted, but she had put herself on hold for Draco. The girl had healed her son before even doing it for herself or anyone else.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Assuming the first person either of his parents would talk to would be him, Draco was wrong when his father directed his question at Hermione. "Do you even know what you are getting yourself into, Miss Granger? Because I honestly believe you don't."

Hermione swallowed her nervousness and pulled out her Gryffindor-card. "I honestly believe you don't know me, Mister Malfoy," she tried to keep her manners, but she was sure she sounded as insulting as she intended to be. "I've never made a wrong choice in my life, and this is definitely not one of them."

"That's a child's answer," Lucius Malfoy sneered, narrowing his piercing silver eyes at her. "You do know what awaits, don't you? He'll be taken into the Ministry's custody. He'll be incarcerated. Trials await, Miss Granger; legal disputes until it is proven that my son was forced into all of this. Rejection and hatred also wait for him once this little break ends. Your...situation has yet to see the real world, Miss Granger. So, yes, you are making the wrong choice."

"My relationship with her has already seen reality, Father," Draco spoke, cutting across anything Hermione could conjure up in that brilliant head of hers. "You don't know what she and I've been through, what we have experienced together and apart. We've seen the opposing sides of the war, we've seen the consequences of our actions and...I want to be with her."

Mister Malfoy still looked calmly enraged. "Will she keep you in the long run, Draco?"

Hermione felt more dislike for the man. "I don't need anyone's approval to be with him, and definitely not yours, Mister Malfoy, or any of the others in your circle. Regardless of what you think, I am staying with him. I will be there through the trials and his defense. I will keep him out of Azkaban."

As Hermione took a breath, pausing as her cheeks lit up with a frustrated flush, Draco decided to speak one more time. She had done her share of standing up to those she loved; it was his turn.

"I don't need your approval," he said in a low voice. "I've lost a lot because of you two, because of all this bloody mess, and...and Granger won't be one of them." He stared at his father determinedly, not intimidated or stirred one bit by the frown creasing his forehead. "I'm not an idiot. I know things won't be easy, we did just end a war where I was on the wrong end of, but I care for her. I won't let her go."

Lucius tightened his lips into a line. There were some things he needed to clear up with his son, but he knew this wasn't the place or time for it. He was a cold man, yes, but his family was the most important thing to him. It always had been. He knew where an apology was do, where he needed to ask for forgiveness, and not just from Draco, but his wife as well. He had done things because he thought it was in his family's best interest, because that's what was taught to him, what went back generations before him.

"I fought my way to get to you, Draco," the man said to his son. "Your mother and I wanted to get to you to make sure you were alive, to protect you. I may have implicated the family in all of this, the worst mistake of my life, but I would do it all over again if I needed to save you."

"You didn't protect Mother and I," Draco replied in the same grave tone. "You put her in danger and you allowed for them to punish me for your mistakes." He stopped for a moment, clearing his throat from all showing emotions. "I did things that I had no control over that put my life at risk and others' as well. That's not protecting."

"And you think being with a Mud—Muggle-Born is going to change all of that? Do you honestly believe you'll accomplish anything?"

"This isn't about accomplishing anything," Draco snarled. "It's about me loving her. If that doesn't fucking change anything, I don't know what will. She's the only good thing I've had throughout all this war. And she's the only thing to make me want to change."

Lucius scoffed loudly. "Love, Draco? You don't know anything about being in love!"

 "Enough," Narcissa hissed at them. She caught their immediate attention with her shrill tone. "Draco," she turned to her child, "you can't expect us to be accepting of this immediately. How you and Miss Granger came to be an item is still a mystery, and you owe us that explanation. That being said, remember your background and remember ours. Accepting her won't be easy—" Her son frowned at her and she added, "but perhaps not impossible."

With that directed to her son, she turned to her husband. "And you, Lucius, don't have a right to stop him from anything. We've done enough to our son; refusing to support him won't be another thing added to the list. We fought for him today, remember that." She gave the man her most lethal look. "Though it's not what we had planned for him from the moment he was born, him being with someone who makes him happy is. I fought to get to my son, vowing if he was safe from harm I'd make it right. As should you, Lucius. We owe him that much."

And finally, Mrs. Malfoy turned to face Hermione. "You care about him," she said, remembering the simple act of healing the girl had done on her son's wounds before her own. "I don't know to what lengths, Miss Granger, but I'm sure we're going to find out, aren't we?"

Holding the woman's stare with a firm one of hers, Hermione nodded solemnly at her.

Squeezing her hand, Draco inclined his head at his parents casually, and then proceeded to lead Hermione away from them. "So, what now?"

"Oh, I see Blaise. We should talk to him," Hermione responded as she squinted through the crowd in the Great Hall and spotted Zabini with Parvati not too far off. "I've been itching to tell him I was in your body all this time."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I meant once I'm free from Azkaban and all that rubbish, what do you want to do?"

"Go to Australia," she said immediately, peering up from her lashes at him. "My parents are there."

He nodded once, smiling slightly.

"And you?"

"I've got a family tree to amend," he said. "Dora had a son. I bet the kid could use a cousin or something."

Stopping immediately on her tracks, a few steps away from Zabini and Parvati, Hermione let a complete overwhelming look take up residence on her face. Her big, brown eyes filled with warmth, affection, love, and amazement. Tears prickled her eyes, for the death of Tonks and Remus, but also because the intention that slipped out of Draco's mouth was sincere, new, and selfless.

He was changing, wasn't he?

From a distance, Ron Weasley stared at the two with arms crossed and many emotions passing through him. As he did so, he was slightly distracted as he felt someone stand next to him. An aura of complete disbelief and irritation bouncing out from that person nudged him, making him turn. To his annoyance, he found himself in the company of a Slytherin.

"This can't be bloody happening," Pansy groaned, looking outraged at Draco and Hermione ahead. "Oh, for Salazar's sake! It's the Bookworm! What's so fascinating about her?"

Ron glared, but felt a twinge of amusement at Parkinson's clear anger. "Come off it, Parkinson. It's not like you and Ferret Boy were together."

"And you and the Beaver were?" she retaliated. "Whatever...It's not like they'll last, right?"

Ron sighed, uncrossing his arms. "Yeah. I doubt they will."

Pansy shook her head in more disbelief, but tried not to let her wounded pride be seen. Even though she said that, she knew she was completely wrong. If there was one certainly good thing about the Malfoys, it was their unquestionable love and loyalty to those they called their own. And much to Pansy's disdain, Draco had claimed Granger as his.

Letting silence link him and the witch, Ron glanced back at Malfoy and Hermione the moment their lips met. Malfoy had his hands on Hermione's waist, pulling her to him, and she had her arms wrapped around his neck with the same possessiveness he'd been claiming her with. As quickly as he'd seen that, both of them pulled away from one another. Though Ron couldn't necessarily hear what Malfoy said from the distance he was in, he saw him mouth three little words with a powerful meaning he doubted Malfoy had ever felt before.

Draco Malfoy loved Hermione Granger. And by the pink flush on her cheeks, the glitter in her brown eyes, Ron knew she loved him too. Although he agreed with Parkinson out of spite, jealousy, and a bit of sadness, Ron knew that when given the chance to love Hermione, no one ever stopped. She stayed in you forever.

"Hey, Weasley," poking the Gryffindor with a sharp nail, Pansy brought him back to the now. "Seeing as we both are terribly humiliated by this current, unholy event, do you fancy a walk? I know a fabulous broomstick closest we can express our rage in without appearing pathetic to the crowd."

She extended a hand to him, and though his first instinct was to slap it away and tell her to piss off, Ron surprised himself by actually taking it.

Pansy smirked. "Just this once, Weasley."

Ron rolled his eyes again, but let her lead him out of the Great Hall. Neither noticed Draco and Hermione kissing once more, or Parvati's giant expression of excitement and surprise, or Zabini's knowing, but annoyed smirk.

People might not think the Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Golden Girl could last in a relationship, but both were always up for proving people wrong and accepting challenges. After all, if they managed to find love during war, they wouldn't hesitate to battle it out against the world to keep it. This was only just the beginning, but they will all get to see their love and need for one another leave a trail behind them like a wildfire gone haywire and consuming everything in its path.

fin.

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[AN] Here we are, my lovely, beautiful people! The end of this story. I cannot thank you enough for sticking to the end with me and enduring my long updates. You all are truly wonderful.