Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the song 'Last Kiss'. All lyrics belong to Taylor Swift, and the following are tiny excerpts from parts of the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, which have been included in this writing for my own convenience: "Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry."(Page 114, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows), "Stop." (Page 729, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows), "NO!" (Page 730, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows).

A/N: This. Took. Me. For – ev – er to write. Not because of writer's block, but because this song is approximately . . . Five, maybe five and a half minutes long. I don't remember. But there's a ton of lyrics. I believe this is the longest Fanfiction I've written so far. The Best Gift is You might be longer, I'm not sure . . . If you haven't heard the song before, I encourage you to listen to it at least once. Even if you don't really like Taylor Swift. It's a nice song. So, this kind of a medley of scenes from the Harry Potter series. Or rather, scenes that weren't written. These aren't chronological, by the way. Anyway, Thanks to: Peanutbuttercup526, my unofficial beta (and my best friend. Look her up and read stuff of hers, it's good, Siriusly). And all you cool people that reviewed – you motivated me to write something else! Thanks so much, please leave a review!
*Amaryllis*

Last Kiss

By Taylor Swift

I still remember that look on your face
Lit through the darkness at 1:58.
The words that you whispered for just us to know,
You told me you loved me, so why did you go away, away.

"Ron! Ron!"
Hermione yelled, chasing after him. She tore into the cold, wet woods, untouched yet by the sun for another few hours. It was still raining. Hermione caught sight of him, near the border of their campsite.
"Ron! Wait. Don't go." She sniffled, tears racing down her cheeks, leaving cold tracks before they froze on the ground below.
"You can't – " Ron turned around, angry and sad.
"Oh? And why not? You chose, Hermione. Me. Or Harry." He repeated. Ron took a step back and turned away again.
"You chose him. I'm leaving." Hermione's breath hitched. She grabbed his arm and made him face her.
"No, Ron you can't, you don't understand, I – " He turned away and shook her loose.
"I can Hermione, and I am." Hermione sat down with a thud on the cold, hard ground. It was saturated with rain. There was a tense stillness as the rain had a lull.
"It's always been you." They whispered simultaneously, almost too quiet to be heard. Ron stiffened. Hermione's breathing stopped again. Then, without another word, Ron stepped outside the camp's boundaries and Disapparated. Hermione let out a cry, and a torrent of tears soon followed.
"Ron," she whispered into the dark. The rains started again, soaking Hermione through her sweater. She shifted her position on the ground, letting her mind wander.

I do recall now the smell of the rain.
Fresh on the pavement, I ran off the plane.
That July 9th, the beat of your heart,
It jumps through your shirt, I can still feel your arms.

Hermione sniffled and another sparkling tear slid down her pale, exhausted face. Once she'd made up her mind about helping Harry, Hermione had followed her parents to the airport, and then to Australia, to make sure they arrived safely. After she was positive they'd be all right, without a witch . . . and without her, she'd Disapparated directly to Ottery St. Catchpole. She had walked down the rain-dampened road, thinking about anything and everything. She could've Apparated straight to Ron's, but she didn't know what security measures they'd taken yet, what with Harry arriving soon and all the Voldemort madness. Where would she, Ron, and Harry find the Horcruxes, anyway?
Hermione had soon arrived at The Burrow. Ron was waiting outside. She'd owled him, telling him what she had to do to protect her parents and when she'd arrive at The Burrow. Hermione was right on time. Seven o'clock. Punctual as usual.
Seeing that Ron was waiting for her that night, tears had soon escaped her eyes. Startled, Ron looked at her as she had walked up to the front door. Awkwardly, he had given her a hug. It was both a greeting and a condolence.

But now I'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes.
All that I know is I don't know
How to be something you miss.

Hermione stood up and walked back to the tent on wobbly, cramped legs as the rain started up again. She shivered from the sudden temperature difference as she entered. She sniffled again, and entered the tent.
She vaguely remembered talking to Harry when she entered, then sitting down and crying for what seemed like forever after that.
She couldn't fall asleep. Hermione opened up her beaded bag. Ron hadn't taken anything with him when he left. She whispered a few words, and then pulled out Ron's maroon sweater, crying again. She put in her lap and curled herself up on the chair, head resting on the arm. Hot tears slid down her still slightly cool cheeks as she closed her eyes.
Hermione cried herself to sleep that night.

Never thought we'd have a last kiss.
Never imagined we'd end like this.
Your name, forever the name on my lips.

After Dumbledore's funeral, Ginny went up stairs, to her dormitory. She paced a bit. Then, deciding that wasn't working, sat down on the floor next to her bed, her back against the wall. She let out a sigh, tilting her head up to stare at the ceiling.
Whoa. She couldn't believe Dumbledore was gone. Such a wonderful, intelligent, brilliant man.
She sighed again. Ginny knew this was going to happen. She knew Harry had to do what he needed to carry on the previous Headmaster's work. To keep her safe.
It showed he cared. And she appreciated that, truly. But the little girl, the little star-struck Ginny of first year that was buried inside her, had hoped it wouldn't happen this way. Had hoped they wouldn't end.
It had always been Harry, for her. As a young ten-year-old, - and the years after that—everyone had always told her that it was because he was famous, because he was so good that she had such a large crush on him. But she knew, especially now, that it wasn't.
And Ginny was going to have Harry back after this war.

Even if she had to drag him from Voldemort's clutches herself.

I do remember the swing in your step.
The life of the party, you're showing off again
And I roll my eyes and then you pull me in.
I'm not much for dancing but for you I did.

Lily stood on the outskirts of the dance floor. She was waiting for James; he'd said that he'd dance a waltz with her, even though she knew he hated it. He just loved his fiancée that much.
Lily sighed dreamily, swaying in time with the music. Alice and Frank's wedding reception really was wonderful. So beautiful, with streamers and those wizarding balloons. She never could remember the names of those sorts of things in the wizarding world. She supposed it was good James knew all about those sorts of things. Lily couldn't wait for her own wedding, just over a month from now.
Sighing anxiously, she looked around for her fiancé. The waltz was next. Lily smiled when she saw what was occupying her him.
James was surrounded by a bunch of little kids, their ages ranging from three to thirteen. He was showing magic tricks with his wand, lighting it and then twirling it, and sending sparks while he spun it in the air. The youngest ones squealed when sparks fell near them, the older kids stared in wonder, hoping they could do tricks like that one day.
Lily stifled a laugh. James always had to show off. It was part of his personality. He just didn't do it in an arrogant way. James made eye contact with her and grinned, walking over. Giving an elegant bow, he took her hand and led her to the dance floor.
Already, James was off beat. Lily smiled up at him, and gave a tiny laugh at the disgruntled look he wore.
"Well," he muttered, "I found something I'm not good at. No amount of magic can fix this." Lily laughed again, and James tossed her a small glare.
She was happy.
She was in love.

Because I loved your handshake, meeting my father.
I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets.
How you'd kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something.
There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions.

It was Christmas Eve. And he was nervous. Not excited-nervous, but scared-nervous.
James loved Christmas. Really. But this year it was extra special.
This Christmas was so extraordinary because James Potter and Lily Evans were finally dating. Finally. It was actually quite hard to believe. Yes, he hoped the day would come when he got to spend the Christmas holidays with Lily, while dating, before he was forty years old. But he hadn't actually believed it would happen. His own Christmas miracle, he supposed.
Anyway, James was afraid. Very, very afraid. And the reason James Potter was so afraid was because this year, he'd be meeting Lily's father. He knew how it'd go, too. James new the routine. He also knew what he'd say if a boy such as himself wanted to go out with his own daughter.
And what James would say to a boy such as himself scared him the most. But he knew the answers. Every single one.
"Are you going to hurt my daughter?" No, he would not hurt Lily.
"You will not take advantage of my L'il Lils?" No, he would not take advantage of her.
"And what do you plan on doing once you leave wizarding school?" He planned on being an Auror once he left Hogwarts.
"So James. Tell me about yourself." To this, James would try for a little humor by answering: "Ah, I think I'd rather have Lily do that for me." Hopefully it'd all work out.

Lily took James by the hand. Hers was small and dainty in his, slightly cool in his warm palm.
"C'mon," She said, "It's time to Apparate to my parents'."
He took a deep breath as Lily turned on the spot.

The young couple arrived and started up the frozen driveway. It was freezing. James stuck his hands into the pockets of the odd Muggle jeans he was wearing. Of course, he'd worn them tons of times before – there were no limits to the disguise a Marauder would don – but that did not mean they were even remotely comfortable. They stopped on the front porch.
"Y'know, James, you'll do just fine. Dad will like you, you know Mum adores you, you've met her at the train station tons of times - " She was rambling. James smiled. He was glad he wasn't the only one nervous. He cut off her nervous chatter with a kiss.
"What was that for?" Lily asked indignantly. He winked at her.
"For luck." He replied, and raised his hand to the doorknocker.
Mr. Evans answered. "L'il Lils! " he gave her a hug as Mrs. Evans walked over to greet their youngest daughter.
"It's so good to see you." He whispered.
"I missed you, too, Dad." Lily replied. Her dad released her so she could hug her mother, and turned to James, hand outstretched.
"Robert Evans." He said, allowing a small smile. James shook his hand, saying
"James. James Potter."

And I'll go sit on the floor wearing your clothes.
All that I know is I don't know
How to be something you miss.

Ginny sat in the same spot she had several months ago, when Dumbledore had been buried. Except now, she was in her own room. She put her head in her hands and let out an exasperated sigh.
She didn't know what to get Harry for his birthday. It had to be special; he was turning seventeen. But he was also going to leave. Finish the final task Dumbledore had given him. It had to be something that would be memorable, but special enough for seventeen, something Harry could take with him . . .
Suddenly, an idea began to form in Ginny's head. She knew exactly what she'd give Harry for his birthday.

Never thought we'd have a last kiss.
Never imagined we'd end like this.
Your name, forever the name on my lips, ohh.

"Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry."
Well. That kiss hadn't gone as planned.
Ginny knew Harry said something to her after that, but she wasn't paying much attention by then. She sighed. (She seemed to do that a lot lately, actually.) She hoped Harry would be safe. With Voldemort, Death Eaters, and most of Slytherin House chasing after him, Ginny couldn't be one hundred percent sure that he'd end up back here, safe and sound.
"Oh, Harry." She'd say that name until the day she died if she knew it'd bring Harry back safe.
But she knew it wouldn't. It wasn't magic, after all.
It'd be a miracle.
Ginny closed her eyes as a single tear escaped down her cheek.

So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep.
And I'll feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe.
And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are.
Hope it's nice where you are.

Ginny took out her photo album from the past year. The year she and Harry started dating.
Look, there they were at Christmas. They weren't together yet, then. There was one photo taken in the spring, near the lake. When they were talking about the Quidditch final.
After a couple more pages of pictures, Ginny shut the book and looked out her window. She'd have to ask Remus how Harry, Ron, and Hermione were. She knew he'd gone to visit recently . . . she hoped they were safe. Making progress in the mission Dumbledore left them. Ginny hoped they weren't hungry, cold, sleeping only goodness-knows-where . . . But they'd been planning this a long time, they'd be fine. She'd be going back to Hogwarts soon, there had to be a way she could help with whatever they were doing . . .

And I hope the sun shines and it's a beautiful day.
And something reminds you - you wish you had stayed.
We can plan for a change in weather and town.
I never planned on you changing your mind.

Ron was sitting on the beach at Shell Cottage. The sun was shining. It was a perfectly lovely day, really.
Except it wasn't.
Ron watched the waves on the water. Bet Hermione would like them. It was almost magical, how constant they were. The waves. Coming in along the shore and then leaving again. And then they'd come back, and start the routine over again.
That's what he needed to do. Go back to Harry and Hermione. Start over; give them some help with the quest. Like he was supposed to. He shouldn't have run out on them like that. Dumbledore gave them all a job to do, and Ron was going to do it. He hadn't had any right to yell at Hermione and Harry, either. That Horcrux screwed up his head, it messed with feelings that he didn't even fell most of the time. Like jealousy.
Sure, there'd been moments, growing up with brilliant brothers and being the best friend of the Chosen One. But it's not as if his brothers and Harry could help being brilliant, could they? It's not like they wanted all that attention. Well, maybe Fred and George. And Percy. But not Harry.
And Hermione? Well, he couldn't very well expect her to wait for him when he didn't confess his feelings, could he? As far as Harry and Hermione romantically . . . Well, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he got to it. And as far as he and Hermione romantically . . . It was worth a shot, wasn't it? After all, she'd gone for Viktor; Ron had to be at least up to that standard, right?
Well. He was going back. Straightaway.

So I'll go, sit on the floor wearing your clothes.
All that I know is I don't know.
How to be something you miss.

Ginny was at home, sitting in front of the living room fireplace. She hoped Neville and the others that got stay at Hogwarts were all right. She hoped Harry was, too. And Ron, and Hermione.
She felt something suddenly grow hot, and hurriedly scrambled inside her robes for her fake Galleon.
Harry was at Hogwarts!

I never thought we'd have a last kiss.
Never imagined we'd end like this.

Your name, forever the name on my lips.
Just like our last kiss, forever the name on my lips.
Forever the name on my lips, just like our last.

Hermione was fighting Death Eaters with a couple of other Hogwarts students. She hoped Ron was safe, wherever he was fighting at the moment. Occasionally Hermione could spare one eye to look around the room while another student fired a spell. Ron was never far off. She smiled, but it soon faded. Was she and Ron's first kiss going to be their last?

Suddenly the fighting stopped. Voldemort's cold, piercing voice filled the air as he spoke a single command:
"Stop."
"NO!"
That would have been Professor McGonagall. Ginny closed her eyes. This wasn't happening. This was not happening. This was not real.
"Harry! No, Harry!" Ginny screamed. He couldn't be . . . Dead, could he?
A few chaotic minutes later, Ginny was watching as Harry pulled of his Cloak.
Hope returned. Harry Potter was alive. He'd cheated death. Again.

A/N Part 2: I thought about ending with something Lily/James before they died, but it was too sad and I couldn't do it. :/ How was it? The scenes weren't too confusing, were they? They all take place in the seventh book, if that helps. I hope it was good . . . or fantastic . . . But I guess it's a matter of preference. Regardless if it was good, bad, horrible, magnificent, purple, or polka-dotted, let me know what you think, please. Also, feel free to read other stories of mine or some of the ones I have on my favorites list on my profile. Thanks!
*Amaryllis*