a/n: Support for this story continues to amaze me. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, your thoughts were hilarious, exhilarating and at some times downright prophetic. Enjoy this one, the one you've all been waiting for.

Chapter 28

There were a lot of things Ron imagined doing with his life. He imagined training to become an auror, marrying Daphne and having a couple of kids. Definitely no more than three because he knew all too well the kinds of trouble seven kids could get up to when under the same roof. On his more honest days he wasn't all that sure he knew how his parents had coped.

He imagined playing Quidditch on weekends and teaching his kids all sorts of jokes and tricks that the twins had once taught him. He could picture that first day of school when he would be standing on the platform waving goodbye as his eldest child prepared for their first days at Hogwarts, for the beginning of the rest of their lives.

That was how he pictured his future when he sat down and really had a think on it. That was the good future, the one he was fighting for. The one where Voldemort was gone and all his children had to worry about was whether or not he'd yell at them when he inevitably tripped over the broomstick they'd carelessly left lying across the back mat. He'd imagined dinners with Harry and his family and raising their kids together.

He'd also imagined another future, one where Voldemort was still gone but where things were darker and a little harder. He imagined a future where Harry died and he lost Daphne, he imagined how hard it would be to carry on knowing that although they had succeeded in killing Voldemort the price had simply been too high.

That future was one he often thought about on the bad days. The days when he woke from sleep to find Daphne thrashing and screaming, frantic limbs tangled in sheets. That was the future he imagined when they lost another member of the ADADA or someone else came home with bad news.

He'd never truly let himself believe that would be the future he would live. He'd never imagined that future would come about because of one selfless act by his best friend.

Daphne slammed a curse into the back of a witch, sending the Death Eater tumbling face first onto the grass, arms and legs twitching as her body tried to process a spell it had no way of combating. She sent another spell directly into the face of the Death Eater crouched beside the witch while Ron gripped the sword of Gryffindor tightly in his hands, using the flat of the blade to bounce curses and spells back on their originator.

Finding Nagini had been hard, the large snake had the advantage of speed and being so low to the ground that she could hide within the grass and the fallen bodies of Death Eaters and students alike. In the end, Daphne had been forced to try a summoning charm that had lasted just long enough the raise the heavy snake high enough above the grass that squinting round the grounds quickly, Ron had been able to spot the snake.

Nagini had been circling lazily around Voldemort, clamping her razor sharp fangs onto the legs of anyone she saw fit until Daphne's spell had disrupted her fun. Getting to her had been just as difficult as finding her. It was like there was an impenetrable wall of Death Eaters around Voldemort and another loose ring of people fighting hard to kill each other. Nagini was somehow in the middle, close enough to hear her masters hissing commands but far enough away that her prey didn't work for her master.

Daphne dove between two Death Eaters, springing up behind them and grabbing them by the heads. She slammed their heads together in a manner that under different circumstances would have made Ron laugh. Instead he just ran them through with the sword. He dodged a blow, rolled and caught another spell on the flat of the blade. Something hot slapped his wrist but though it was uncomfortable he didn't slacken his grip.

Daphne darted right to avoid a fist and spun to deliver a killing blow to her left. The Death Eater went down in a spray of blood and screams and Ron stumbled over the fallen body as he lunged forward to strike at a Veela who was aiming a fireball at Daphne's back. The blade dug into her arm rather than severing it but it served its purpose. The fireball vanished and Daphne spun to fire a killing curse at the creature before she could attempt to enthral Ron with her magical wiles.

They did not have time for him to go all woolly over some creature in the middle of a battle.

Duck. Stab. Stumble. Jerk. Lunge. Stab again. Slip, jerk left, lunge again. Stab. Slash. Ron was lost to the movement, each a necessary step to take him that much closer to his goal. Three steps ahead Daphne was dancing her own battlefield number, never moving far enough from him that anyone could comfortably get between them, never getting too close that Ron was unable to effectively use the hulking great sword.

And then, finally, there was Nagini, lunging up at them as though she could somehow sink her teeth into the sword he held before him. Daphne was far quicker, her spell catching the snake under the chin and driving the snake backward as she struggled to use her powerful muscles to slither back toward her prey. Daphne slammed her boot down on Nagini's body just below her jaw and glanced up and back at Ron. Ron raised the sword slightly, preparing to stab Nagini when two things happened: Daphne screamed and something heavy fell against his back, driving him forward.

Even as his body fell, pushed down under the weight of whatever had fallen against him, Ron was focused enough to drive the sword forward through Nagini's writhing body and the ground beneath. A black stain spread from the wound up and down the length of Nagini's body and she wriggled twice more before her jaws gaped wide and a thick grey smoke drifted from her mouth.

The instant Nagini stopped moving Daphne lurched away from the snake toward Ron and the weight that was pushing him to his knees. He wriggled out from under it, shucking his shoulders until the heavy thing slid sideways. It was only the look on Daphne's face that told him something was very wrong.

Slowly, Ron turned his head to the side to see what had fallen on him and his eyes met the open unseeing stare of his best friend. Ron's mind went completely blank. He couldn't process what he was seeing; it didn't make any sense. And then a sound like Ron had never heard before – and hoped never to hear again – filled the air and brought the battle to a standstill. It filled his ears and his very soul with a heavy feeling of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm his senses. If he had not already been on his knees he felt certain that sound would have had him falling.

Across the grounds a huge fireball engulfed Ally and all of those standing within thirty feet of her. Ron knew, in that distant part of his mind that must still have been functioning and processing what was happening around him, that he was witnessing something similar to what Harry had gone through at St Mungo's. Probably worse.

Then Voldemort began to laugh and reality snapped back into place. Ron knew what he had to do. Without looking at the fallen body of his friend he staggered to his feet, letting go of his grip on the sword he drew his wand and charged toward Voldemort. Daphne was barely a step behind him.

His first spell slammed into Voldemort's frail body with no effect. The skin-and-bones appearance of the old man was deceptive. Though he must have been at least seventy, the spells and experiments he'd undergone gave him the strength and vigour of someone half his age. He parried and dodged the majority of the spells Ron and Daphne sent his way with ease, sometimes not even bothering, allowing the spells to land harmlessly against his body as though he knew they couldn't possibly cause him harm.

Around them screams of terror and the sounds of fleeing footsteps filled the night air. Ron didn't waste time looking around, he could guess what was happening. Ally was taking her revenge and anyone smart enough was getting the hell out of her way. All he and Daphne had to do was keep Voldemort occupied, keep him from running or realising that all of his horcruxes were gone and then Ally could come and finish him off.

Stephanie slammed into the ground beside Ron, rolling to her feet and spinning, firing spell after spell as she got to her feet, refusing to give Voldemort the chance to hit back. Her spells were ferocious, she was putting more power into her spells than Ron had ever seen before and yet she didn't seem to be tiring. Later, when he had the time to think about it, he would realise just how proud he was that this girl he had hand picked, had gone toe to toe with Voldemort and stood her ground.

Dean appeared suddenly behind Voldemort, his face covered in blood and dirt with grass in his hair. His spells joined Ron, Daphne and Stephanie's as he too struggled to get through Voldemort's masterful shields. The most they achieved was a flinch, a slight stumble. One of Dean's spells combined with Daphne's actually cut open Voldemort's cheek, sending blood flooding down onto his robes but it didn't slow him down.

Then Neville was there, Hannah Abbott by his side, their spells joining the four already striking Voldemort. They surrounded him, forcing him to stay where he was, refusing to give ground even as they struggled to avoid or block their own spells deflected or Voldemort's powerful ones.

One such spell shot through Ron's shield, tearing the spell down as though it were little more than tissue paper. Whatever spell it was slammed into Ron's chest dispersing across the spelled dragon hide of his jacket, until the only affect it had was to make him stumble back slightly.

Voldemort spun, spell leaping from his wand with ferocity and tearing through Hannah's shield as simply as his previous one had torn through Ron's. She wasn't wearing protective dragon hide, though. She staggered back, clutching at her stomach as tears filled her eyes. Voldemort was still moving, his next spell caught Neville in the face and he went down. Ron knew he would never get up; tears threatened to blind him but he blinked them back. Gritting his teeth he continue his onslaught, catching it only from the corner of his eye as Hannah finally fell, one last spell firing from her wand to land on the back of Voldemort's knee.

Stephanie was the next to fall. Voldemort's spell slammed into her with such force she went flying backward. Even over the sounds of the battle Ron heard her scream as she landed and the harsh words of agony that served as reassurance that followed.

'Mother fucker!'

She was alive but she wouldn't be walking for a while, she was out of this fight. That was all of the attention Ron could spare for his fallen friend because in the next instant something wrapped around Daphne's lower legs and she went down. Tumbling backward over the fallen body of a Death Eater. She made no sound when she hit the ground but Ron knew she was alive. He felt sure he would have known it if she was dead. He'd certainly felt something when she'd become trapped in that terrifying cycle of life and death.

Ron was on his own now, just a lanky Gryffindor sixth year standing tall against the strongest and most feared dark wizard of all time. Which was in no way a comforting thought. He dodged, ducked and spun to avoid what spells he could, shield as strong as he could make it. It had occurred to him early on that Voldemort was toying with him, there was nothing stopping the Dark Lord from simply hitting him with the killing curse and ending things once and for all.

He hadn't though; he'd chosen instead to toy with them all just as Ron and the others had been trying to distract him. Something gave way beneath his feet and Ron began to fall. He managed to catch himself, sharp pain screaming through his wrist as he did. Voldemort leaned over him; mouth curving in what Ron guessed was supposed to be smug satisfaction.

Ron shot him in the face with a powerful bludgeoning hex that sent the man reeling backward. Ron slumped to the ground as Voldemort whipped his wand up, this, he knew, would be the end for him. In the instant before Voldemort's mouth moved to form the words of the killing curse Ron considered closing his eyes.

A flash of flames appeared in front of him and for one second Ron thought Ally had finally finished with Voldemort's army. But the form in front of him, the one with a hand gripped tightly around Voldemort's neck, was not Ally. It was Harry.

And Ron allowed consciousness to slip away, darkness washing out Harry's words.

'Its over, Tom,' Harry said calmly. 'This ends now.'

Voldemort tried to snarl, tried to speak around the tight grip on his neck that was lifting him from the ground so his toes just brushed the grass. He started to raise his wand but Harry was so tired of the fight, of all of the pain and violence that this ignorant, power hungry old man had wrought over the entire magical and muggle community.

'No,' Harry said firmly and twisted his hand.

The sound of Voldemort's neck breaking went unheard beneath the other sounds of battle. The way his body crumpled now that his brain was no longer capable of sending proper signals was quiet an almost anticlimactic.

The satisfaction of the act was further reaching.

Ally appeared at his side, flames tempered now that her mate was back by her side. She was naked and her hair was smoking slightly but she didn't seem to care. Her hand slipped into Harry's and together they looked down at the broken form of the man who had destroyed Harry's life as a child and who had tried again and again since then.

Someone approached them, slipping a cloak around Ally's shoulder before coming to stand just as silently over the fallen Voldemort. It was McGonagall. Slowly and surely, quiet spread across the grounds and up toward the castle. Gradually the news spread that Voldemort was dead.

There wasn't a cheer; there wasn't excitement over the news. There was just a heavy, tired sigh as finally they were allowed to rest.

Tom Riddle, the man who had so despised his own nature, instead creating for himself a name and identity that marked him as the powerful descendent of Slytherin he wanted to be, was finally dead.

Peace.