A/N: I do not own the Harry Potter series; that honor belongs to J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made from this story, nor do I intend any copyright infringement by posting this story. Also, a special thanks to poetintraining576 for taking the time to correct my atrocious grammar, spelling, and rewriting parts of the story that were in dire need of rewriting. Having said that, enjoy my story, Forever After.

Four months. Four long months of mourning, and healing, and forgetting, and still every time Harry Potter came to the Burrow to visit his friend Ron Weasley, a cold heaviness pressed upon him. The death of Ron's brother, Fred, marked the cold absence in the house, and Harry felt himself shiver, though the day was warm, and the oven was on nearby. Glancing at his other good friend Hermione Granger who stood beside him, he could see that she felt the aching coldness too.

Harry could only imagine it would be worse at Hogwarts—death and loss marked every tower, every corridor, every face of every student and teacher. But, despite his fears, today he returned with Ron, Hermione, and his girlfriend (and Ron's younger sister), Ginny to complete their final year of Wizarding education. With a sigh, Harry checked his watch then watched silently as Mrs. Weasley straightened Ron's collar, pausing at a nasty scar on his neck from the Battle at Hogwarts. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione wince slightly.

"Ron, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, as she began smoothing and dusting off his robes, "if it's too much, just send and owl and we'll bring you home. The same goes for Ginny."

The ears of Harry's best mate turned pink. "Mum, we'll be fine. We're just going back to Hogwarts."

Mrs. Weasley frowned, pursing her lips as though she didn't agree. "Even so… I want letters from all of you to know you're safe. You too, Harry dear… and you as well, Hermione." She smiled at them a second before faltering, and she dashed into the other room. Harry could hear gentle sobs from the other room but pretended not to notice.

Harry sighed, checking his watch. "Right, well, I suppose we better apparate to Kings' Cross Station soon. It's about ten thirty. Where's Ginny, Ron?"

The red-head shrugged. "Dunno. She was packing last I knew. Mum doesn't want her to go—doesn't want any of us to go, really, after what happened to… but she doesn't really have any say, does she, mate?" Ron laughed humorlessly.

Nodding absently, Harry checked his watch again. "I'm going to go find Ginny. I don't want us to miss the train and have a repeat of our second year."

Ron and Hermione both nodded listlessly as he left the kitchen.

Walking up the old creaky stairs of the Burrow, Harry finally reached Ginny's room. The door was open, but he rapped on the side of the door frame, just in case. At the sound of his knocking, a beautiful, young, auburn-haired woman leapt from her bed.

"I forgot you said you'd be here," she breathed, as she wrapped him in a tight embrace. Harry returned the gesture, standing with her there for a long moment before letting go. Looking at his girlfriend's face, he could tell she'd been crying—red-rimmed eyes and dusty streaks down her cheeks marred her usually flawless complexion.

"Oh, Gin," he said, reaching to touch the dried tear-tracks, momentarily forgetting about their deadline, "what is it this time?"

Ginny looked at him and immediately tears began leaking out. Harry groaned inwardly; she never used to be this sensitive to anything. With a sigh, he wrapped her in another hug as she sobbed, trying to tell him what was wrong. Not that he caught much with her sniffling into his robes, but as he checked his watch again, they didn't really have time to discuss it thoroughly at the moment…

"Gin," Harry said suddenly, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking at her. "I really do want you to tell me all about this, but if we don't leave for Kings' Cross Station now, we're going to miss the train to Hogwarts."

Miraculously, her tears stopped almost immediately. Glaring at him crossly, she said, "You haven't listened to a single word, I've said, have you?"

Lie, or appear insensitive? Neither was an ideal choice. "Erm… would you look at that, we really should be going… I'll help you with your trunk if you want…"

Ginny simply rolled her eyes and threw up her hands, but she grabbed her trunk and followed him down the stairs, fuming, apparating by herself in a flash. The Golden Trio followed soon after, trying to keep up with the angry red-head on the busy Kings' Cross platforms. With another inward groan, Harry knew he'd have to pay for his evasion once they'd gotten on the Hogwarts Express. Sweet Merlin, help him.

HP*HP*HP

Meanwhile, on the train, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood sat next to each other—alone in a compartment. Luna stared at a Quibbler, holding it upside-down, and Neville gazed without interest at his Charms book. He promised himself he would read ahead, like Hermione always did, but Charms held little appeal for him. Well, Neville thought with a groan, it held less appeal than the girl who sat next to him did.

Neville couldn't remember when he'd first met her—had it really only been three years ago with Dumbledore's Army? He felt he'd known her a lifetime. Admittedly, they hadn't spent much time together until last school year when they received joint detentions from the Carrows, but he'd always been fascinated by her.

"Luna, why are you reading upside-down?" he asked, scooting closer to look at the article. He paused, confused. "This isn't even in English."

The Ravenclaw stared at him dreamily. "It keeps the Wrackspurts away, reading like this. And the article's in gibberish with an English dialect. It's rather simple to read."

"Could you show me?"

Luna looked up from the article again. "Show you what?" She looked truly confused.

"Could you show me how to read gibberish?" Neville asked. He felt the back of his neck heating up. Maybe this was a stupid idea.

"Certainly…see this is how you—"

But, at that very moment, the compartment doors slid open to reveal a flushed Ron and Hermione.

"Ron, I was not flirting with that man in Diagon Alley! I wish you wouldn't say such idiotic things…really! When you left last year, I cried for weeks!"

"Well, if you hadn't sided with Harry over me, I wouldn't have left! Besides, you got over it, remember?"

Hermione was shaking her head, tears now flowing down her cheeks. "You're such a prat, Ron Weasley," she spat. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we're dating."

"OH," he shouted, "YOU DO, DO YOU? Well, sometimes I wonder why I'm dating such a bossy know-it-all!"

"Fine," she sniffed, putting her nose in the air. "If that's really how you feel…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you said it first…"

But the compartment door clicked shut behind her, leaving a very embarrassed Ron with an annoyed Neville and an unperturbed Luna.

HP*HP*HP

Further down the corridor, Harry and Ginny were having a very different kind of argument. Ginny was crying, screaming, shouting, and wailing, and Harry found himself counting to ten and biting the inside of his cheek. She just needed to vent. She was still upset about Fred. He was an understanding boyfriend. He would…

"How can you just sit there and not scream at me? Don't you care at all?" Ginny screeched, her face blotchy. Harry winced at the pitch of her voice and took a deep breath.

"Gin, I know you're still upset about Fred's death, but you've really got to try to move on. It's not healthy for you to have all this rage.

"And another thing," he said, standing up, his voice becoming very sharp, "I care about you a whole lot, otherwise I would have screamed back at you a long time ago, but I know that won't help anything.

"Gin, I want to help you, but you've got to stop using anger as a way to prevent me from helping you deal with the grief that you have, okay?"

Ginny just nodded at him, and he wrapped her in a tight hug. "It just hurts, so much… I cared about him so much… and George isn't the same… and… and…" She broke down completely in Harry's arms, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing, until she fell asleep.

Just as Harry saw her eyelids flutter closed, he heard the compartment door open and saw Hermione standing in the entrance. "May I come in?" she asked timidly.

Gesturing to the empty space, Harry nodded, and Hermione shut the door behind her.

"It seems like even with Voldemort gone, we've got an eventful year ahead of us," Hermione said with a weak chuckle. "First Ron and I get into a fight, and then Ginny goes off on you."

Harry looked at her crossly, but sighed. "We all have a lot of healing to do," he murmured, looking out the window at the grey clouds. "All of us."

HP*HP*HP

But perhaps nobody had more healing to do than Draco Malfoy.

After the war, he and his family had faced severe losses; many of their treasured heirlooms—including hundreds of books—had been confiscated since they involved Dark Magic, and his father faced six months in Azkaban for his crimes with two years house arrest after that.

He and his mother had gotten off lightly, the Wizengamot informed him. Since Draco and Narcissa both played instrumental roles in the defeat of the Dark Lord and neither one of them had done anything in particular to help his forces, Draco received a slap on the wrist with instructions to attend Hogwarts for another year of schooling—since his seventh year was haywire and no one took their N.E.W.T.s anyway—while his mother had to take care of the manor and his father's investments while he was imprisoned. Draco knew how fortunate he was that the Wizengamot had shown mercy…just like Potter had last year.

A rapping on the window distracted Draco's musings about Potter's noble behavior in rescuing him from what would have been a painful and dishonorable death. At first glance, it looked like an owl, but he realized it was a beautiful golden eagle with unusually bright blue eyes. Cracking the window open, he let the bird in. He shut the window carefully, so no rain would leak through, and turned to look at the bird. To his surprise though, a petite young woman with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes sat across from him.

"I presume you're an Animagus?" he drawled. Truth be told, he was impressed. From what he heard, even Granger hadn't been able to figure out the complicated Transfiguration that becoming an Animagus required.

"Clever bloke," the girl replied coolly. "Nothing gets by you, does it? Do you really think an eagle would tap on a window? They're not as intelligent as owls you know."

Draco frowned at the girl. She acted like a pure-blood, and a Slytherin no less… she had no disregard for the rules, and she had a superiority complex that rivaled his own, yet he had never seen her at Hogwarts. But, then again, he tended not to associate with anyone outside his own House, and if she was a few years younger, well, he wouldn't have paid her much mind. Wouldn't he have remembered seeing such a smirk and eyebrow raise, though?

"What, cat caught your tongue?" she asked. "Or should I ask if the eagle caught it between its talons?"

Narrowing his eyes at her, Draco replied coldly, "I didn't think your statement required a reply, you bloody bird."

She smiled. "That, I do have to admit, is clever. Now that we've both insulted each other, you might as well tell me your name."

"Are you pure-blood?" he asked, pretending to examine his fingernails.

The girl leaned in, the smirk on her face growing. "Why?" she asked innocently. "Will you refuse to tell me your name unless I'm a wealthy pure-blood? That seems rather petty, don't you think?"

Draco ignored her question. "So, you're an Animagus. Why didn't you catch the train at Kings' Cross like the rest of us?"

Raising an eyebrow in amusement she said, "Well, I can fly. I intended to fly the whole way to Hogwarts, but since it started raining"—she gestured outside—"I thought it would be…prudent to find the train and ride the rest of the way there so that I wouldn't look like a drowned rat once I reached the castle."

"And your bags?"

"Merlin's beard, you ask a lot of questions for not even telling me your name," she commented with an eye roll. "But yes, my bags are already at Hogwarts. Father asked Tipsy to take care of them so that I could fly there if I wanted."

Draco smirked. "So you are a pure-blood. You have a house-elf."

The girl gave him a wry smile. "Yes, I am a pure-blooded witch, and I imagine you're also a pure-blood… but unlike me, you are a pure-blood supremacist, upon which I fail to look favorably."

A pause crept into their conversation. "What's your surname?"

With an indignant sigh, she crossed her legs. Draco noticed that the blue silk of her dress rode up to the middle of her thighs. Though he loathed admitting it, she had good legs. "Honestly, is that all you care about? You'd rather know my surname than my first name? Or why you've never seen me around Hogwarts before? Or perhaps how I've been faring now that the war has ended?"

"You know," he said dryly, "you're being awfully rude, barging into my compartment and insulting me."

Her eyes flashed. "I'm being rude? Oh, that's rich. First of all, you let me into your compartment, and second of all, I'm keeping an open mind to the person sitting in front of me without regard to his lineage. That's more than I can say of you."

Damn, this girl was annoying. "Well," he said, irritably, "if I'm being so rude, perhaps you should find a different compartment with which to grace your presence. I wouldn't be at all opposed."

Turning her face sharply toward the door, nose lifted into the air, she exited the compartment and slammed the door shut. Draco could hear her loud and angry footsteps echo down the corridor, and though a smirk crossed his face, he felt rather lonely. It wasn't like Blaise or Nott or even Goyle had returned for this year… from what he heard Blaise and Nott were receiving their final instruction from their parents, and Goyle was probably in Azkaban or rotting in his own stupidity somewhere in Britain. Frankly, Draco didn't give a damn. But this girl, she cared about people—even Draco could see that, and oddly, he felt a desire to go find her and ask her to join him for the rest of the ride. He almost swallowed his pride to find her and apologize, but instead, he spent the rest of the train ride staring at the sky as it darkened.

There are some things that a Malfoy simply does not do.