Hey guys I'm really sorry that this chapter took so long, I was having a lot of trouble making it convincing and then a whole bunch of stuff came up to the point where I was getting home after 11 pm every night for almost two weeks.

BUT this is the final chapter, and I've decided that the end of this would make it possible for a sequel (which would take place during sixth year). So tell me what you think of this and if you think I should write a follow-up, because I don't have the whole plot worked out just yet, only the ending.

Thanks for reading!

Draco was frantic. Where had she gone? By this time most of the panic-stricken spectators were filing anxiously out of the stadium, so Draco scanned the crowd hopefully for Hermione. He ran back up onto the stands to get a better view of the mob forming at the exit. But as the rest of the place emptied, he finally found her. She was on the ground, seemingly unconscious, and there was a steady trickle of blood from the side of her brow down her face. She was ghostly pale.

Draco lifted her gently and sat, Hermione resting in his arms, rocking her back and forth. It seemed days before her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him.

They were now almost completely alone, as there were only a few teachers who stayed back to make sure nothing was going on at the Quidditch pitch, and they were not paying attention to the couple lying in the grass by the monstrous hedgerows.

Night had already fallen, but Draco felt like the sky had grown much darker than it had been only 20 minutes earlier.

"What's happened, Draco?" Hermione continued to stare at him as he held her. He could feel himself start to tremble, and wondered whether or not he should lie to her. She's the cleverest girl in the year, and she's Potter's best friend, she's bound to find out the truth somehow.

"Potter came back first," he started, not exactly wanting to recount what he had just seen and heard. "He was screaming that the D-Dark Lord was...was back. And he was grabbing hold of Diggory's body. Hermione, Diggory's dead. And I think Potter's right about him being alive again."

He had expected Hermione to be scared, and perhaps even cry. He had expected her to be anything but calm. And yet, he watched her, amazed, as she closed her eyes and nodded her head once. Then she tried to stand up.

Draco grasped her hand firmly as she swayed on the spot, and when she embraced him it was all he could do not to kiss her. He musn't be her friend anymore. He musn't be her anything.

"Hermione," he began, wanting to explain everything to her, but she shook her head.

"You," she said, "are the only son of the Malfoy family, known Death Eaters, and you will be expected to remain loyal to You-Know-Who." She spoke softly even though they were alone. "I am the muggle-born best friend of Harry Potter, and anyone with half a brain knows I will remain loyal to him."

Draco half-smiled at her immediate comprehension of what must be done.

"Therefore," she continued, "we are not anything but enemies. We always have been, and we always will be." She smiled. It was not one of her winning smiles that she wears when her friends make her laugh, nor the bashful smile she wears when she answers difficult questions correctly in class. This smile was sad and sweet, and left no doubt in Draco's mind that she hoped they would both survive the rest of the Dark Lord's reign, even if they were on opposing sides.

With that final smile she turned on her heel to leave, but Draco caught her hand and pulled her against him. She opened her mouth to protest, but Draco merely laughed.

"We're alone, remember?" he said, and he kissed her. He put all of his energy into that kiss, all of his passions, his emotions, in hopes that she would know it was not really over between them.

And when he finally let her go, he watched her walk back up to the Quidditch pitch, wondering if the Dark Lord was worth the sacrifice.