ALMOST FINISHED! Their final year at Hogwarts *sigh* There will be an epilogue to follow this chapter, but here it is, their last school year, and the question on all our minds...will Sybil realize what we already know in her heart to be true? ;o) ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT! :oP

Thanks to everyone who has kept with this story; thanks to everyone for their kind reviews and encouragement, and I do hope you enjoy this (*whispers* I think you will!)

Chapter Seven

1918

"It's…it's over?"

Sybil stared back at her cousin with wide, disbelieving eyes, as Isobel stood before her and nodded her head in happiness, tears streaming down her face as she dabbed at her eyes.

"Yes…" she tearfully murmured. "It truly, truly is over; the War has come to an end at last!"

Without warning, her cousin enfolded her in a tight embrace, and Sybil stood there, her arms hanging limply from her sides, just too shocked to say anything.

It's over…

It was so strange to comprehend; her third year at Hogwarts had just begun when England had declared War with Germany. And yet the Daily Prophet didn't report on any of it for over a year after that, and only when it became hard to ignore that there were wizards joining and volunteering to join the nation's muggle armies, despite the Minister of Magic's firm warning that they shouldn't.

It's over…

It was surreal. So much had happened. Not only had a bulk of her time at Hogwarts taken place while the War was raging, but despite the Minister's warning and her father's opinion that they (being the wizarding world) should have nothing to do with the muggle's "desire to obliterate one another", that hadn't stopped the War from touching the people she cared about.

Tom Bellasis was dead. And dear Matthew had been badly injured earlier that summer. There was fear that not even the most potent magical potion could cure his paralysis, though her cousin Isobel continued to try. Both of her sisters were doing their part to help, volunteering their time and strength to serve convalescing soldiers (both muggle and magical), and naturally, Matthew's injury had brought both him and Mary closer. Mary was like Florence Nightingale, always by his side, ready to help him in whatever way she could. If anyone still doubted that they were in love, then the only explanation could be that they were blind. And of course, Sybil herself had looked for ways to help and serve, even though she was still a student. And thanks to her cousin and Dr. Clarkson, she had found a way, by serving as a nurse at the school…and then, thanks to Tom's encouragement, by doing what she could on school holidays and weekends in Hogsmeade, where she and her cousin established a small, but much needed "clinic" of sorts, for the residents there.

So much had happened. So many things had changed. And while she knew this was wonderful news, that this horrible, bloody war had finally come to an end…Sybil couldn't help but tremble with anxiety as another realization dawned on her.

The War was over…and in a few months, so would her time at Hogwarts; she would be expected to leave all of this—everything she had done—behind, and resume her role as Lady Sybil Crawley once more.

It was a selfish thought, she knew, and she did feel a little ashamed for it, but she couldn't help herself. She loved being a nurse. She didn't to stop being a nurse, just because the War was over. But girls like her, aristocratic, pureblood witches on the cusp of going to London for her formal debut when the school year was over, and to sit and wait until a proper husband was found for her…that was the future that was waiting. Never mind all the lessons she had learned while a student, never mind all the skills she had acquired; good heavens, what was the point of her O.W.L.'s? Or her upcoming N.E.W.T.'s? None of it mattered, clearly, if she were simply destined to become some wealthy wizard's wife.

"…You don't have to go back to that life if you don't want to."

Sybil's eyes widened and she looked at her cousin. "What did you say?"

Her cousin Isobel looked a little confused. "I simply said that the War has finally come to an end."

But Sybil frowned and shook her head. "No…no, you said something else…didn't you?"

Isobel's own brow furrowed as her confusion deepened. "I didn't my dear, I promise. Why, what did you think I said?"

"I asked you last year to bet on me…but now I'm asking you to bet on you…"

Tom.

His words filled her heart; they had been for quite some time.

When he had told her that he believed she loved him, she was honestly taken aback by his words. She didn't confirm anything…but at the same time, she didn't deny it either.

"Don't be ridiculous!" she had sputtered, but she couldn't look him in the eye when she spoke. And like the coward she was, she ran from him then, back into the infirmary, back to her waiting patients to refill their mugs—oh blast him for saying that!

He hadn't lingered. And she didn't go and seek him out when she was finished with her duties. Several days passed and neither of them spoke to one another. Tom seemed to take his cue from her; if she looked elsewhere, then so did he. If she sat with others from their house, like Anna, then he would sit with John and so forth. One of them would study in the library, while the other kept to the common room. They carried on like this for almost a week—and it was maddening.

And Sybil knew she had no one to blame but herself. But good heavens, Tom could be frightfully full of himself! Just because she enjoyed his company and liked him and called him her best friend meant that she was in love with him?

Well doesn't it?

Sybil told that part of her heart to be silent.

If you didn't care, then you wouldn't—

She left the infirmary in a huff, and walked the grounds of the school for a moment, eventually wandering out to the Quidditch pitch. Her feet seemed to know where to find him, and they hadn't been wrong. There he stood, like the good Hufflepuff captain that he was, checking all the equipment, tinkering with the brooms to make sure they were in tip-top shape…

He had his back to her…his strong, broad back—good heavens, he was quite muscular for a boy of sixteen—she shook her head and tried to focus on the man—BOY, that was there, wanting to end this silly silent war they had been keeping, but…not exactly sure how to begin doing that (because simply saying "sorry" didn't quite seem to be enough).

"I wish I knew how to play Quidditch…"

He froze, his hands pausing from their work, and he lifted his head and slowly turned around to face her. "I could teach you, if you like…?"

Sybil swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed in his presence. It was quite cool outside, and yet she felt rather warm. She also took notice that he had removed his outer robe, and had rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing a great deal of his forearms. Her eyes were rather transfixed on them, but his question brought her back, and she felt intense heat color her face. "No…no, that's your territory," she murmured, forcing a smile, despite the blush.

He sighed and shook his head. "It doesn't have to be…not anymore. I always thought you would make a fine seeker."

Sybil blushed again and bit her bottom lip, not quite sure how to respond. He always seemed to have a knack for that; seeing her doing and accomplishing things when others doubted, including herself.

Tom sighed then, drawing her attention back to him, and she watched him move to the equipment trunk. "Thought you were avoiding me?" he asked, his back to her.

"Of course not!" She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Oh foolish girl, YES YOU HAVE BEEN! "…Perhaps a little," she confessed, looking away and feeling rather ashamed of her cowardice.

He didn't say anything, nor did he give her any sort of strange look. But he did look back at her, his eyes looking soft, tender, caring…but also sad as well. Perhaps even…sympathetic? He closed the trunk then, satisfied with whatever task he had been performing, and Sybil knew that if she didn't say something—anything, at this point, they would fall back into this terrible awkwardness, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"The truth is…"

Tom paused and looked back at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

Sybil swallowed and opened her mouth to speak again, though a moment passed before the words came out.

"The truth is…" she began again. "I…I want to do some of the things you suggested."

He lifted an eyebrow at this, however she saw a bit of a cheeky grin starting to spread at the corner of his mouth. "What I suggested?"

Don't be daft, even if it's on purpose, she thought, scowling at him slightly. "Yes; I…I think you're right, there is a need in places beyond Hogwarts for a nurse, and while I haven't had the chance to yet, I would very much like to speak with both Dr. Clarkson and Cousin Isobel about seeing what can be done. Perhaps something in Hogsmeade first, use my time when students are allowed to go to the village as an opportunity to help people there—"

"I think that sounds like a fine idea."

She paused and looked at him; was he being serious? He was smiling, but…but it was a teasing smile, or even a cheeky one like she was used to from him.

No, he looked very sincere. And very proud.

Proud of her.

"I mean, I'm not going to stop my volunteering here at school—and it is more than just serving hot beverages," she muttered, though there was a teasing air to her voice, one that she could tell he recognized.

He sighed wearily. "So what you're saying is that you still won't be able to try out and become Hufflepuff's all-star seeker?"

"Oh for heaven's sake," Sybil groaned, rolling her eyes, though she couldn't help but laugh. Tom was grinning too, and he folded his arms and leaned back against the equipment trunk, the simple gesture causing the muscles in his forearms to ripple slightly.

"Sybil?"

She blushed, realizing then that she had been staring, and her eyes immediately snapped back up to his face. "I…" she swallowed and took a deep breath. It was the closest thing to an answer that she could give him, and it wasn't much…but she hoped for the time being, it would be enough. "What I'm trying to say is…I…I just can't think about it all until the war is over…"

About it all.

She closed her eyes and groaned as soon as the words had left her mouth. Oh how stupid that sounded. And cowardly! No wonder the Hat didn't sort her into Gryffindor.

She heard Tom sigh, and she bit her lip as she slowly looked at him through her lashes. "Fair enough," he murmured, unfolding his arms and starting to turn away from her again.

Oh how defeatist that sounded. And how she hated herself for causing it!

"It won't be long now!" she found herself crying out. "Surely it won't be…just…just…"

Just what?

"Will you wait?"

She had no right to ask him that, especially since she hadn't given him any indication or confirmation about what she might feel—

"I'd wait forever."

Sybil gasped and she stared back at him, her eyes locked with his, his own blue, brilliant, and filled with…with…

Is that what Love looks like?

"I…I'm not asking for forever…" she found herself whispering, but Tom only smiled back at her, his expression so tender, Sybil swore her heart was swelling and melting at the look.

"Even so," he murmured, turning and picking up the trunk, gritting his teeth slightly as he hauled it up onto his shoulders, before looking at her again, and giving her that wonderful, handsome, crooked smile of his, "…I'd still wait."

And he did. That had been a year ago, and he was still waiting (ever the patient Hufflepuff). But things did get better between the both of them. There were still some awkward moments here and there, but for the most part, their friendship seemed to have become stronger than ever.

But he was still waiting. And she had promised to give him an answer when the War was over. And now it was.

What would my family say? Papa never supported our friendship, though he doesn't even know Tom; he has no right to judge him. But…he has never forbidden me from being his friend, either. Though it's one thing to be friends and quite another to be…more.

Edith liked Tom, and Mary at the very least tolerated him. And Matthew liked him, of course, and Cousin Isobel had gotten to know him while he helped with whatever odd jobs needed helping at their little make-shift clinic in Hogsmeade. Perhaps with time her parents and grandmother would come around? But…but even if they didn't…would that stop her?

"…You don't have to go back to that life if you don't want to."

She didn't. She didn't want her fate to simply be marriage to some titled, pureblood wizard like Larry Grey. She didn't want her entire magical education to be for nothing. She didn't want to give up nursing! In fact, as Tom had suggested, she was interested in attending a training college somewhere, even a muggle school! But yes, getting proper training, becoming a proper nurse, running a clinic of her own, that would be open to both the magical and muggle world! And she didn't want to give up her politics; equality and fairness for women, the poor, and house elves still had a long struggle ahead of itself. And Tom understood her interests, he always had! He supported discussion; he encouraged it, especially when nobody else was willing to listen.

Oh gracious, this wasn't a question about whether or not she loved him—OF COURSE SHE LOVED HIM! How could she not? He was her equal in every way. He was her best friend! And even if she lost favor with her family for her choices, from what she wanted to do with her life after Hogwarts, to who she wanted to spend her life with…

"If they want to give me up, that's their affair; I'm perfectly happy to carry on being friends with everyone! But I will not give him up!"

"Sybil?"

She gasped, realizing that she had spoken her thoughts out loud and in front of her cousin.

"What were you saying, my dear?"

Sybil opened her mouth to reply, though no sound came out…save one word.

"Tom…"

Isobel frowned. "Tom? Oh, your friend, Tom? Branson? Is something the matter with him?"

"Yes—no, I mean, no, nothing is the matter, at least…at least I don't think…" Her poor cousin looked even more confused, and Sybil knew she was rambling. So she did the only thing she could think of. "I must go."

"Oh! Sybil? Sybil!"

But she ignored her cousin and simply turned and ran from the infirmary, moving as quickly as her legs allowed, to…to…where? Where would he be?

She went to the Hufflepuff common room, but he wasn't there, nor was he in their library nook. She ran out to the Quidditch pitch, but Ravenclaw was practicing. So really, that only left one place she could think of…

"Tom?" she called out, her voice soft, but eager as she poked her head through the Owlery door. "Tom, are you here?"

"Sybil?"

A sigh of relief escaped her lungs as she heard his voice. She scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder, and quickly found him, standing off the side, feeding Neptune some scraps from their lunch earlier.

He wiped his hands and got a good look at her, no doubt taking notice to how flush her face was from the running she had been doing. Yet he smiled, and looked as if he were admiring her, before murmuring, "you look very fine," before adding after that, "don't you have a shift in the hospital wing? Won't they worry?"

Sybil blushed but shook her head. "They're all so pleased they won't care where I am."

Tom chuckled at this. "I doubt that, but…I did hear the good news, about the War finally ending. I'm pleased."

Sybil nodded her head. Yes, though she knew there were struggles still ahead, especially for her beloved Tom and his beloved homeland.

"What will you do?" she found herself asking while stepping closer. "When this year is over, and we've completed our N.E.W.T.'s? Will you go back to Ireland?"

Tom sighed and nodded his head. "Aye, I imagine so. And…while I'm not entirely sure, I'll most likely work with my brother and cousins who own and run a garage; I like flying on brooms, but I also like working and tinkering with engines," he confessed.

Sybil couldn't help but smile at this. "Well, you do have lovely hands—OH!" she gasped, her own hand flying to her mouth as she realized what she had just said.

Tom had heard it too, and lifted his eyebrows at her words, though he couldn't help but put on that cocky smile of his. "So…you think my hands are 'lovely'?"

Oh good heavens, he was going tease her mercilessly for that one. "W-w-what about writing? And politics?"

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Writing?"

"Of course! I mean, you're very good; always getting high marks for your essays. And you're especially good at writing and presenting a persuasive argument. Why…as mad as it might sound to you, I do think you'd make a wonderful Minister of Magic someday."

He burst out laughing then, and Sybil couldn't necessarily blame him, though she did mean it. He would make a very good Minister of Magic, and help bridge the gap between the wizarding world, and the muggle one he grew up in.

"I mean it, Tom! I do hope you go into politics, it's a fine ambition!"

He chuckled. "Ambition or dream? Besides, I told you, when I go back to Dublin—"

"You also told me," she interrupted, "that I should bet on you…and I am. I'm betting on you, Tom."

He was silent for a moment, not exactly sure what to say or how to respond. In fact, he lowered his eyes then, as if embarrassed, but Sybil didn't hesitate to lift her hand and cup his cheek, a gesture that clearly took him by surprise, as he froze at her touch, before lifting his eyes back to hers again, their gazes locked with each other.

"It's time to move forward," she whispered, her hand never lowering.

He swallowed. "Move…move forward?"

She nodded her head. "Tom…I'm so sorry that I made you wait. But…but I'm finally ready and sure to stand before you and say…"

He was holding his breath. And she couldn't help but smile.

"That I'm ready to travel, and you're my ticket," she whispered. "To get away from the life my family has intended for me, to—"

"With me?"

He was clearly flabbergasted.

"No, with Godric Gryffindor."

He blinked several seconds, and Sybil couldn't help but burst out laughing, and felt her heart lift even higher as she heard his laugh join hers.

"I…I'm sorry, I just…I've waited so long—"

"I know," Sybil interrupted, and crossed those final steps until she was practically pressed against him. "I know I made you wait, and I'm so sorry for that, but…but I am sure, Tom; I am, and…" she licked her lips, especially as she noticed the way his eyes were falling to hers. "I love you," she whispered at last.

A sound bubbled up from his throat, a sound that, to her ears, was one of pure joy, mixed with a little relief. He started to lean towards her, but hesitated, just for a moment, as if making sure this wasn't a fluke of his imagination, that she truly was there, standing before him, telling him in a manner of speaking, that she was ready to burn every bridge if he simply fetched her the matches.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes you can kiss—"

She never finished her sentence, because the next thing she felt were his lips, warm and soft, pressed against her own.

Sybil couldn't help but moan in delight at the touch and feel of his mouth on hers, and her arms didn't hesitate to move and weave around his neck and shoulders. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt his own arms, strong and sure, weave around her body, drawing her closer, holding her as if she were the most beautiful, precious thing in the world…which she felt, because in his kiss, she could feel and taste his love for her, and she only hoped and prayed that he could feel and taste hers for him.

It was a first kiss for the both of them. They weren't experts, and when they tried to open their mouths and let their tongues move and meet, it was a little sloppy, that could not be denied. But it was no less wonderful. And Sybil giggled as he chuckled, before their lips parted, just a breath away, allowing them to look into each other's eyes and again, see the love they felt for one another reflected there.

"God knows it's enough that I can kiss you," he whispered, his hands now tenderly holding her face between his palms.

"Then kiss me again," she practically pleaded.

He grinned and leaned forward to do just that.

And it was perfect. Because it was with him.