Instead of hating me for not updating in over a year, be sad that this is the last chapter (but mostly glad because it's the last chapter so no more bad updating OOF)

I think you will love it. I love you all. Longer, sadder author's note at the end.

"All that year, he'd been running from death, had been making every decision in order to avoid such an end. Funny, that he found his safety and salvation in death's comforting arms."

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a foggy shroud, encasing everything, but simultaneously encompassing nothing (because, after all, there was nothing in the first place).

Misty nothingness, a floating sensation—floating on something that felt like a mixture of water and air, respectively too light yet heavy to be considered either one separately.

But this nothing brought with it nothing—no thing. No sensation, at least no palpable ones to the mind. Zero feelings. Zero awareness.

No pain.

But somehow, Draco's eyes opened. They acknowledged this nothing: the misty shroud encompassing his nothing, the floating sensation that owned his mind, but mostly the lack of pain. He felt nothing.

Sitting up, for now he realized he had been lying on his back, he grappled with reality, trying so desperately to understand everything that unraveled, how his own small life had unraveled to become this thing he was now a part of, this weird little coincidence that his drugged out mind didn't seem to want to comprehend.

He was sitting, with his elbows resting on his knees. Looking down at his body, he saw himself clad in pitch black pants, a button down identically colored, vibrantly dark against his neon pale skin. He was aware of his limbs but had to actually feel them beneath his fingertips before he was certain they existed.

Everything was foggy and clear (as impossible as it sounded), as if a filter had overlaid his vision and cleansed his surroundings of all imperfections. Everything was foggy, yet clear.

He was dead.

Draco swallowed, a shaky breath rising in his chest. Funny, how he felt trepidation within his bones yet an eerie calm settling amongst every nerve ending in his body and each neuron in his brain.

The boy looked up to finally observe his surroundings, blinking as he was met with only the same mist. It lacked temperature, just a presence that seemed bent on concealing everything from him.

But the longer he sat and stared and waited, the more the adamant shroud seemed to surrender, surely realizing that the boy had an eternity to waste. As the fog backed off warily, Draco was slowly able to view his surroundings, blinking away the last few wisps to recognize exactly where it was that he sat.

He sat on the shore of the Black Lake, only it wasn't quite black anymore. Though the mist was gone, the misty white color remained, tainting anything and everything it touched (except his clothes, it would seem). The lake was foggy, the sky was foggy, the trees beside him and the grass beneath him and surely the castle behind him—though he did not turn to check—were all foggy white. All foggy yet clear.

Just like the man who sat but five feet from Draco, dressed in light grey robes, a smile perched below his half-moon spectacles.

Draco's face could do anything but match the man's cheery disposition. Anger flared deep within him, white knuckles popping even more against his hands as they clenched into fists.

But the headmaster just chuckled before Draco could get a syllable in. "I can't say I expected any other reaction from you as a hello, Draco."

"How could you?" the boy managed through his gritted teeth, eyes screwed up in fury and pain both, betrayal. "Dumbledore, you horrid man, how…how dare you have…have let me do that?"

The man sat with that typical and trite twinkle in his eyes, the one so expected of him. "Mr. Malfoy, I apologize, but I must say I am confused. Please explain?"

This incited a scowl and more red fire behind those hurt white eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. How could you have let me take your hand? How could you have let me do that?"

"Ahh." Draco was still convinced the sound of realization was fake, and so he snorted. "That is what you are speaking of. Well, Draco, my boy, I must tell you the odds of this happening were immensely small, improbable. You should have been able to survive and live a much longer life; truly, it is a shame that it was cut this short again—"

"You must be joking," the boy scoffed.

"Pardon?"

Draco's eyes flicked to the other man's. "Professor, I'm not talking about me dying again."

"Whatever do you mean?"

He is playing dumb still.

"Sir, I…I mean, how could you have let me take your hand when you knew someone else would die?"

The headmaster peered at him over his glasses. "You knew, too."

Draco rubbed at his face in frustration. "Well, yes, but I mean"—he groaned—"why would you give me that option? When you knew those were the consequences?"

Dumbledore's head tilted slightly. "Well—and not to answer a question with a question, but why did you take my hand when you knew that was the consequence?"

The boy would have scowled again and refused to answer had it not been for the sincere inquiry in Dumbledore's eyes, the nonjudgmental expression of curiosity on his face.

He swallowed. "I dunno. I was afraid, I suppose."

An eyebrow raised above one of the old man's patient eyes. "And?"

"The bloody hell you mean, 'and'?"

He smiled. "Draco, what else?"

The sixteen-year-old frowned. Why else had he chosen this?

"I was afraid," he started slowly, eyes on the ground, brow furrowed, "because I didn't want that to just be it. I didn't want that to be the way I went out. I was afraid of dying primarily, but…if I had to go, I was afraid of going so miserably and uselessly. Serving the wrong side, not having done anything worthwhile to either one. A failure in every depiction."

Draco looked at Dumbledore. "But not just to others. To myself, as well. There were so many things I had yet to do, dreams I had yet to fulfill. My life hadn't been lived yet. And…the prospect of it just being over, just like that…it was terrifying. So, I suppose anything was worth it in that moment, no matter what the consequence was."

The dead headmaster nodded. "And? Did it stay worth it?"

Draco swallowed. "At first, yes. Even though I lost my best friends, I didn't care. I mean, after being given a second chance and seeing the true condition of my life, I realized after I lost them that losing them wasn't actually losing much. Eventually I found I was genuinely better off without them. And losing them and getting the second chance and all was worth it for the most part after that. Even though I was alone for a good amount of it…."

A twinkle in the man's eyes. "But."

"But then.…" Draco swallowed down the lump in his throat as it arose. "Then I encountered that insufferable prat." He chuckled, his heart—as unbeating as it must have been—clenching in his chest at the thought of her, the words an endearment despite their apparent insult.

"And at first it didn't matter because I still hated her, and she still hated me. It never even crossed my mind that it could be her. If it had, I'm sure I would have welcomed the prospect.

"But then things changed, and she started to soften me. And I started to think. I started to wonder, and I started to consider and convince. The holidays happened, and a thought grew in my mind. Maybe it was her….But no no, I didn't focus on that, because all I could think of was her and her smile and her eyes and her skin and the lightness of her laugh and the way her mouth curved up when she smiled at me."

It was as if he was alone, talking to himself.

"And she began to scratch away at my exterior. Started to show me all of those things that I had been missing before, all the things I hadn't even known I was missing. I mean, I knew when I was going to die the first time that I had been missing something, and some things I knew were missing, but there were some I couldn't quite put my finger on."

He stared straight ahead at the lake, eyes glossing over, arms on his legs. "I suppose she is why it wasn't worth it anymore. When I realized she was showing me everything I was missing, when I realized it was because of her that I loved this life, but when I realized…."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "When you realized it was her."

Draco nodded. "I kept pushing the thought to the back of my head, tried convincing myself that I was wrong, that I had to be wrong. There was someone else, or I would make it someone else. But the fact of the matter was it couldn't have been. It was going to be her."

He swallowed. "And…when I realized that…I also realized that without her, I'd be missing the reason I was okay with existing. She was what was missing before.

"But I couldn't let her die because then I would be taking from her what she gave to me. She gave me what I was missing. And she deserved it, too. She deserved that thing that made life worth living, you know? I realized that in taking your hand, I was taking what she should have had and calling it my own. Not just life, but that happiness, that missing thing. It should have been hers. And yes, she showed it to me and gave it to me, but she never knew I was actually stealing it."

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "That realization was what made it not worth it."

"Yeah." Draco took a deep breath. "Death, obviously, was the main thing, but that was only a side effect of me stealing everything from her. Without her ever suspecting.

"I had fooled myself, along with her. I was not just stealing her life but her right to happiness and choice and all the missing things in life and…."

Dumbledore smiled. "And love."

The young Slytherin blinked away his distraught tears. He did not respond to the two words, just sat beside the Black Lake, allowing a thick blanket of silence to settle over them. He stifled sniffles and swallows, just stared in adamancy.

Eventually he sighed. "You know my answer, then. Is that all you came here for? To make me feel even worse about it all?"

The twinkle. "My boy, you think me heartless? Truly I tell you, this whole thing was meant for your benefit. Not the events that played out, but the idea. I had no clue of what would come, nor who it would be, in the beginning, at least. I have only ever wished for your happiness and success. That is why I tried to help you in the first place. Believe me, Draco: I am very sorry. Of all the misunderstood people, you were perhaps the most. You deserved much better."

His words did, in fact, help. But as Draco Malfoy, all he could afford was a half-smile and a sideways glance. "Thank you."

Dumbledore began to stand. "However, to answer your question, no."

Draco looked up at him in confusion. "No what?"

"No, talking to you was not my only reason for being here."

Curious, Draco followed him to his feet. "Well, what else then?"

"I thought," the man started, a small grin playing across his knowing face, "that you might want to talk to someone. I am confident it is not one-sided."

Draco's confusion turned suddenly to shock and his eyes grew as the man before him gave a clever little smile. "I'll leave you, then. Good-bye, Mr. Malfoy."

And with one last wink from behind those half-moon spectacles, the headmaster was gone.

Draco swallowed, every nerve in his body suddenly on high alert as anxiety and apprehension coursed through his veins. His heart raced, and the boy could feel the beat of his blood in the tips of his fingers, the tips of his ears, the gum of his teeth. Suddenly this seemed possibly not smart….

"Draco."

But then he heard his name on her tongue, those delicate syllables playing out like melodious notes on the fairest harp, like twittering birds on a lovely spring morning. The lightest cloud and most beautiful sky, a shroud of mist but with ease and care and goodness.

The boy turned to the sound of his name and saw her standing there, not twenty feet from him. She was clad in the brightest white dress imaginable, long and flowy, a ray of snowy sunshine, pillowy and soft and comforting. Her skin was perfection, eyes bright even so far away, though protected clearly, and those lips were as enticing as ever.

Hermione.

Oh, how he ached in seeing her! All the pain he had ever experienced came crashing down in that moment, and he swallowed to hold down the wail of culpability yet relief yet agony yet love that threatened to erupt. She was dead, yet she was here, in front of him, as radiant—arguably more so—than ever. The most beautiful sight his eyes had ever seen. And all he wanted to do was call out to her, to say her name, to hold her.

But his lips did not work, nor did his legs twitch a muscle to move in her direction, for all he could see in that moment was her bleeding and twitching body, splayed upon his lap, crying and pleading and losing strength with every passing moment. Her dying eyes, her struggling breaths and struggling words and struggling thoughts. Every minute, a battle. Every second, a stab.

Her sacrifice so he could live.

And then his own decision, mere hours later. His own body. Blood. Open eyes, staring ahead in death.

The magnitude of their final actions hung heavily in the air like a wet pillowcase full of cement. Neither of them keen to break it.

Finally, he did. "Why did you do it?" he whispered, eyes on the ground.

Her head tilted, looking directly at him. "Why did you let Death Eaters into the castle?"

The Slytherin swallowed. "I…you wouldn't understand it, but…I was trying to protect you. I thought it would save you from death. It seemed like the only option left, but…." His eyes met hers. "I suppose I failed you."

Hermione sniffed slightly. "That, Draco Malfoy, is the exact answer I give you to your question."

He exhaled out a breath, eyes falling back to the ground as sadness engulfed him. "Hermione, I…I'm so sorry. For everything. For everything I put you through. For the torment, for this year, for subjecting you to knowing me, for falling for you and ruining everything, for…for your death….I'm so sorry."

She was silent for a moment before she spoke with a soft but still slightly tense voice. "Draco, stop. You can't beat yourself up over this."

"I sure as hell can," he said, laughing slightly, though it was without humor. "This is all my fault, can't you see? You should still be alive! You would be, was it not for me!"

"You…you can't think like that, Draco."

"But it's true, Hermione. Everything that happened to you…it's all my fault."

"Draco." The soft but stern tone prompted his eyes to look to hers. "I made my own choice. And I stick to it. It was worth it."

Worth it…

He swallowed. "Hermione, if only you knew. It shouldn't have had to be worth it in the first place! You shouldn't have wanted to! You shouldn't have ever had to face that decision! You shouldn't…shouldn't have…shouldn't have ever…."

Her face was concerned, albeit perhaps still a bit masked. "Ever what?"

"Ever known me!" he forced out loudly, tears threatening his cheeks again. "Ever been friends with me! Ever wanted more, or ever even talked to me without hatred in the first place. This is all wrong, all so so wrong. I did this to you, and-and I knew I was but by the time I realized it and wanted to stop it, it was too late."

Oh, how he had ruined everything! If only he hadn't let the Death Eaters into the castle, had just gone to Dumbledore like she had said, then maybe….

He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut hard as a tear leaked from one and ran down his face. The pain in his chest was worse than ever before; the guilt and agony were inconceivable, incomprehensible, inexpressible; how could one imagine that sort of overwhelming pain?

A faint breath fluttered out through his parted lips, and a small gasp from Hermione met his ears.

"Draco…" she started quietly, fear and concern evident. "Draco, I…."

"I did this to you," he managed. "Hermione, you don't understand, I…."

"Draco, look at me."

He did so with apprehension.

She smiled at him, a small expression, tears similar to his swimming in her eyes. "Draco, love, you didn't do this to me. You have to believe that."

"How can I when I know I did, though?"

She took a moment to just look at him, eyes full with so many emotions that it was clear she was battling for which one should be dominant. Neither of them moved as they waited for her to speak, just stood beside the foggy shroud and the white lake and the still pale grass, though the students both felt as if a wind was sweeping against their bodies and minds alike.

She let out a breath slowly. "Draco, I…yes, if you hadn't let the Death Eaters into the castle, we wouldn't be here. Yes, if you hadn't been wounded, we wouldn't be here. Yes, if you hadn't almost died, we wouldn't be here. And if you hadn't done the same thing to yourself, we wouldn't be here. I will give you that.

"But just like in life"—she chuckled slightly—"you are focusing too much on 'I'. On you."

His eyes drew in every detail of her as she continued. "If I hadn't found you in the astronomy tower, we wouldn't be here. If I had just come up some other solution, we wouldn't be here. If I hadn't saved you, we wouldn't be here. And if I hadn't had such an effect on you that you thought you couldn't live without me…." Her eyes grew sad. "You wouldn't be here. You know, I am in anguish because of that.

"But I know, truly, that that was not my fault. That was your decision. And likewise, you have to know everything I've done was my decision. You never made me do a single thing."

She gave a small smile. "And what is it with us right now? As if everything is and was so bad? I died for you. For you. There's a reason, you know."

The question in his eyes was apparent, so she expanded. "You're blaming yourself for all these things you think you did to me. You want to know what you really did to me?"

He wasn't sure.

She smiled. "If you hadn't shown me who you really are, we wouldn't be here. If you hadn't made me laugh, made me smile, we wouldn't be here. If you hadn't been the best friend, best shoulder I never knew I needed, we wouldn't be here. If you hadn't been amazing. Hadn't shown me how to let loose. Hadn't made me work for something other than school. Hadn't made me rethink all of my predispositions."

She took a step closer—still some nineteen feet away—head tilted. "You want to know what you did to me? You aggravated me! You infuriated me! God, you're too much to deal with! All of this because you are everything! Everything I didn't know you were, everything I thought you couldn't be, and with every revelation I had about you, I became more frustrated yet excited because you—you!—were the one to show me. Draco Malfoy, of all people, showed me everything I never knew I was missing. And it was you. It was all you."

She laughed, a real Hermione Granger laugh. "I hate it when I'm wrong. You know that, obviously. I never thought I could be wrong about someone I'd hated so long, someone who'd despised me with equal fervor. I never thought I could coexist with you. I never thought I could come to care for you so much, so so much."

Draco swallowed hard, blinking away the emotions that stabbed at his eyes. "Hermione, I…I still did all of this to you. It's because of me that you're dead."

She sighed, but with a smile, taking some two or three steps more. "Draco, you were willing to die for me. Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I was willing to do the same thing? Which is why I did it? Have you ever considered that maybe what you feel for me, I feel exactly the same for you?"

Draco's eyes shut, brows furrowing. "No, I…that doesn't change the fact that—"

"Draco," Hermione breathed, taking a few steps further. "My gift to you was my life. I couldn't bear for you to die. Just the thought drove me mad. I was willing to do anything to keep that from happening to you. Anything."

Something clicked in Draco's mind, and his tear-filled eyes snapped to hers. For months, the prospect of the girl in front of him dying had driven him up the wall, reverted him to basically tearing his hair from their roots. He had sworn to do all he could to keep her safe, even if it meant his own death.

He had never thought that maybe, she'd had the same thoughts.

"Don't you see?" Hermione whispered, less than ten feet from him, still moving slowly. "I couldn't care less how it came about, whose fault was whose; I just wanted you to be safe. I would do anything. Anything."

Draco couldn't meet her eyes. "But it was my fault. Don't you see that? If it weren't for me, you would still be alive."

"But you wouldn't be." Her footstep made no noise. "Then where would I be? Wracked with guilt that I couldn't save you, that I wasn't enough. I would be without you."

They stood but two feet away, and finally Draco looked to her. She was so beautiful, smiling softly and with so many emotions brimming in her eyes. That windswept hair floating calmly, those lips parted ever so slightly. Her brown orbs looked up at him with sincerity, with a need for him to understand.

"Draco, you didn't kill me. You saved me."

His eyes broke. "How?"

Hermione smiled. "Because you did more than give me a life worth living. You showed me a person worth dying for."

She took another step forward, only a foot between them. "You want to know what you did to me? You made me love you. And that is the most wonderful thing in this entire world."

Draco swallowed, a tear running down his cheek. She was right there, so close, right in front of him, yet it didn't feel real. This couldn't be; it was…too easy, too perfect.

But then she reached out. And gently took his hand.

His heart stopped at the feeling of her hand in his again, and their eyes connected, his radiating shock and hers love.

"Draco," she whispered, nodding her head. "This is real."

This is real.

He laughed out a syllable, sharp and quick, as every muscle and nerve in his body released the tension. This…this was real.

Happiness burst in his chest, and his eyes cried out those tears he had been withholding as he embraced Hermione tightly, swinging her around and around, cherishing the feeling of her body—her body!—against his and the sound of her laugh in his ears and her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly to her body as he clung to hers. They spun together, a melodious whir of pitch black with neon white, so different yet so perfect, so good. So right.

Draco set her down, his arms still around her, and hardly waited a moment more to kiss those lips which he had long thought were gone forever. It was explosive, the feeling of relief and love and overwhelming peace that greeted them at the action. He sighed into her mouth, pure joy coursing through his veins, for she was here and he was here and they were both just here. Together. After everything that had happened. Finally.

Ironic, isn't it? In some far-off corner of Draco's mind, he realized the absolute absurdity of it all, yet the beauty of such harmony. All that year, he'd been running from death, had been making every decision in order to avoid such an end. Funny, that he found his safety and salvation in death's comforting arms. Ironic, how the thing he'd been running from for what felt like forever was what gave him the ending he wanted, the ending he needed.

They broke apart, and Draco stared into Hermione's eyes, his hands cupping her face, thumbs rubbing at her cheeks. His eyes delved into hers, and he prayed with all he was that they could convey every single emotion he felt.

"I love you," he breathed out, chest rising and falling with desperation, so frantic he was that she knew.

She just smiled up at him, her own hand finding his and rubbing it reassuringly. "I know, Draco. I know. I knew before I died, too. I'm so, so sorry that I caused you that pain. I just knew I had to let you know before I died that I loved you. I'm sorry I couldn't hold on a little bit longer for you. I'll never hurt you again."

He grinned. "And I, you."

She giggled quietly, and Draco was reminded of every little thing—no matter how small or seemingly insignificant—that made him fall in love with her. "I do mean it, though," she said, almost mischievously.

"What?"

"I would die for you again. And again. Aaaand again, and again."

He smirked. "Oh, is that so?"

She laughed, nodding. "Yes. If I were to do it all again, I wouldn't change a thing. I would die for you in a split second."

Draco smirked, bringing her lips to his again, relishing in the fact that he would get to do this for the rest of eternity, would get to hold her and love her for the rest of time. "About that," he managed between kisses. "I have some explaining to do…."

And there it it. Fin.

4444 words. Now THAT'S how you end a story!

Looking back on this story, I gotta say my personal favorite chapters were 25, 34, 35, 38, 41, and basically just 43-50. I want to say my FAV fav was probably…either 35, 38, or 45. Anything icky or with good dialogue hehehe

Guys, just. WOW. This story has been such a ride. Almost three years after the original publication date, it's finally over. Hey, no more getting mad at me for not updating in a year! Because no more chapters! Yayyy…..?

I just want to say I am truly sorry for being so shite at updating. When I started this story I was a 9th grader. Now I'm a 12th grader and a semester off from graduating. Wow. That's insane. This story has been part of my high school experience and I'm so grateful you guys have put up with my awful updating patterns.

But mostly I'm grateful you read in the first place. I love you all so much! Thank you for making me love this story and writing in general more than I thought I could!

I would love to know your overall thoughts on the story—all 50 long chapters of it—now that it is over! Shoot me a review! What was/were your personal favorite chapter/s? That stuff is always interesting for me to find out.

Again, thank you so much. Your reviews and the fact that you read this +160,000-word fic mean more to me than you could ever know. I love you all.

(Now to finish the aspens screech which needs 51 more chapters oh my god)

Signing off, love you lots!