A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait with this, but here it is! The last chapter! Just an epilogue now, which is nearly done so shouldn't be long!

Ch. 24 - Some Other Beginning's End

Closing time / Time for you to go out go out into the world / Closing time / Turn the lights up over every boy and every girl... /...Closing time / You don't have to go home but you can't stay here / I know who I want to take me home. / I know who I want to take me home / I know who I want to take me home / Take me home / Closing time / Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

Closing Time, Semisonic.

Hermione wasn't sure if she'd heard correctly. "You – what – pardon?"

Malfoy swallowed. "I said I'm in love," he said quietly. A calmness seemed to have descended on him since he'd first uttered the inexplicable words, like the sea quieting after a tumultuous hurricane. She stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. "With you," he added. "In case there was any confusion."

He reached out and took the vase from her hands. She easily relinquished it and realised that, in her surprise, her grip on the ceramic had loosened. He placed it gently down on the table and shuffled his feet about again. She could tell he was thinking carefully about what to say next.

"What Theo told you was true. About there being something unique about the Malfoy love. And it doesn't just apply to romantic love, but to family, to friendship too. When my parents first told me about it, though, it was to warn me. They said that the love that runs in the Malfoy blood can be all-encompassing, wild...even dangerous. That I needed to be careful who I allowed to become close to me, because loving – especially loving the wrong person – can make one reckless and vulnerable.

"So I was cautious – wary even – of allowing myself to love someone. I didn't know – I still don't – if I can have any control over it, or if it will control me, and that's scary because I've been told all my life that control is everything. And what if I loved the wrong person? And love can be abused and used, of course. That's what he did. In that way, he proved my parents right.

"I didn't have any choice in loving my family. Those bonds were already formed before I even knew what love was. But apart from that, I always tried to keep it confined. That's why I'm often so crass, so awful really – to keep people at a distance. Like I was during our first task. With that task, with this whole therapy thing, I was in danger of opening up, making myself vulnerable, becoming close to people."

His lips quirked up into a sad smile. He reached out and twirled one of her stray curls around his fingers, gazing at it with something like wonder.

"But now I know what I'm losing by rejecting love, by trying to squash it away. It's what he did. He only knew hatred and jealousy and bitterness, but why – why would you ever turn away from something that makes you feel like this? That – that lightens your insides so much you think you're going to float away? That gives you hope and – and makes you warm – I've felt cold for so long, Hermione." He frowned, as if dissatisfied with his description. "And strength. Loving you makes me feel stronger. I still feel scared sometimes, but now I'm scared of losing it – you. Of not being close enough, rather than being too close."

Hermione's mind was reeling with all that Malfoy was saying. There was still so much she was learning about him. But every new thing, every pocket of information and new perspective, didn't seem entirely new. It all made sense somehow, seemed to fit with what she already knew of Malfoy, especially with what she had learnt in the last year.

His words had opened something up inside her. Had allowed her to think again about how the man standing in front of her was so different to the boy who had ridiculed her in her earlier years. She thought of his tender kisses, the way he looked at her as if she were something rare and precious, his bitter anger at how she had hurt herself, the odd, jovial way he had taught her dancing. Above all, she thought of the pain of all he'd had to go through. How, in fact, it had never been her he'd hated, but himself, and the twisted situation he'd found himself in that he'd never asked for. She thought of the feelings he roused in her, how he made her feel warm, and light and strong too.

And a realisation struck her. It struck her with the force of a stunning spell, but felt completely right at the same time.

"Malfoy," she finally spoke. "I – I –"

"It's fine. You don't have to feel the same way," he said hurriedly. "I remember you telling me how you didn't want anyone to know about us –"

"What? No, I –"

"And I can understand that – with everything I did to you, everything I was –"

"Malfoy –"

"I just felt I had to tell you – I know nothing can come of it – that it will have to end –"

"Draco!". He quietened, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Draco," she said again, more slowly and quietly, allowing herself to revel in the feel of the hard consonants and soft vowels of his first name. "Firstly, what on earth are you going on about when you said I didn't want anyone else to know about us?"

He scowled. "That time in the Divination room – after you – we – read my letter, you said that you didn't want anyone to know."

"No I didn't –"

"Yes – yes, you said something like, 'And no one can know'."

Hermione searched her mind, trying to remember. "No...no...I was asking you. I'd assumed you didn't want anyone knowing, so I was asking you if that's what you wanted, not telling you!"

His scowl deepened. "Oh," he looked uncomfortable. Sheepish, even. "So – so you would have been okay with people knowing?"

She shrugged. "I think that, at the time, I was finding it hard to care what anyone thought of anything much at all. I thought you wouldn't have wanted anyone knowing because – well – I thought you still considered me a dirty, sullied mudblood."

He looked pained, and rapidly shook his head as if shaking away her words. "No. Never. Don't say that." He cupped her jaw in his hand, drew her to him and kissed her fiercely. "Don't ever think that again. I thought you wouldn't have wanted anyone knowing you were with a rotten, sullied ex-Death Eater."

"Well, they would be wrong. Ex-Death Eater you may be but you're not sullied, or rotten. Like I said on the Astronomy Tower, I know you're much more than that. And – and," she took a deep breath, preparing to say the words she'd tried to speak minutes before, "And I think I love you too."

His eyes grew wide. "What?"

A smile tugged at her lips. "I said, I think I love you too."

He grinned widely. "You think you love me. I'll take that. I'll definitely take that." He forcefully backed her into the kitchen table and they melted together in another deep kiss. After he finally pulled away, he looked down at her with another frown. "So you really won't mind people knowing? Your friends will hate it. Because they hate me. Still think of me as a ex-Death eater bully."

Hermione found herself speaking in her characteristic, no-nonsense, optimistic tone for the first time in ages, as she said, "Well they'll have to learn, like I did, that they're wrong, won't they?"

Telling Luna was the easiest.

"Oh, I wondered when you were going to tell me!" she exclaimed happily as soon as Hermione informed her of the news.

"You mean you already knew? How?" Hermione wondered if their secret had somehow gotten out. Who else knew? How much did they know?

"Oh, yes. It's obvious by the way you look at each other. And by the amore fugits."

"The what?"

"The amore fugits. They're tiny flying creatures, invisible to the naked eye, but when many of them congregate in the same place, they create a blue shimmer in the air. They're drawn to the space that exists between two people in close proximity that are attracted to each other. And there's always been a blue shimmer between you and Draco when you're standing close to each other. Only those who are really looking can see it though, of course."

In hindsight, it was obvious to Hermione that Luna was going to be the most accepting of her friends. Maybe Hemrione had known that deep down. Maybe that's why she had told her first.

Next, she approached Ginny.

"What the actual fuck?" were Ginny' first words, unfiltered and candid, when Hermione told her.

She went on to remind Ginny of Ginny's impressions of Zabini just a year before, and how the therapy project had turned them on their head, causing cracks that had split apart wide enough to shatter her preconceptions.

"Hmm, fair enough. But I'm not fucking Blaise," Ginny reorted.

So Hermione explained, as much as she could, about all that Draco had said and done, how he had changed, until Ginny's expression became less defiant, the fire in her eyes abating to a dull glimmer.

"Okay. Okay, I'll try and get my head around it," Ginny finally conceded, to Hermione's relief. She gave Hermione a small smile. "You're going to have to fill me in on all the details…"

Harry's reaction wasn't angry or combative as Hermione had been expecting, but rather one of confusion and bewilderment.

"I don't get it," he stated simply.

So Hermione tried to explain again, tried to help Harry see how the Draco they'd both known together was different to the one she now knew.

Harry looked at her thoughtfully, listening with uncharacteristic patience.

Finally, he spoke. "You know...it's weird, I keep thinking about Snape when you're talking... Lupin once told me about my mother…he said she was able to see the good in anyone even when they couldn't see it in themselves. Maybe you're a bit like that, only it's when no one else can see it either."

"Maybe," she said quietly.

"I'm just – are you sure? Are you sure he's not going to hurt you? That he's – that he's got good intentions?" He frowned, looking a little tortured. "I just don't understand how you can trust him…"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then you need to trust my judgement here too."

The lines of his face softened. He smiled. "Okay. But let me know – talk to me if he – if things get difficult, yeah?"

Hermione considered floo'ing Ron, but decided that she would owl him first instead, to give the news a chance to sink in before she talked to him.

Four days after she'd sent the letter, Harry approached her in the library, waving a letter in his hand.

"Ron's written to me. He's demanded I carry out a Revelio charm on you," he said reluctantly. "Thinks you might be under the power of a powerful love potion, or worse - Imperio'ed or something."

Hermione smiled. "I've arranged to speak to him this evening."

Later that night, in the common room, the fire Hermione had lit morphed and contorted until Ron's face appeared.

"Hey, Hermione," he said pleasantly. She was surprised. She had expected him to be more irate, to maybe immediately burst into an anti-Malfoy tirade. Over the last year, the hostility between Slytherin and Gryffindor houses had weakened, and bonds of friendship, and more, were starting to form in its place, but Ron had not been around to experience any of that.

"Hi," she replied.

"So, I read your letter about three times. Couldn't decide whether it was a joke, a fake, or whether you're just totally off your rocker."

Hermione couldn't help but grin. "None of the above." she replied. "It's all true, and a swear I am not enchanted or Imperio'ed in any way."

Ron's face twisted into a sneer. "It's just – Malfoy. I just don't get it." He echoed Harry's words.

"Neither do I, if I'm completely honest. But it – it seems to have happened. And it seems to be working for me – for us – so far. Honestly, I – I'm happy when I'm with him, and he genuinely cares for me."

"Draco Malfoy. We're talking about the same person, right?"

So, for what felt like the millionth time, she explained about the person that Draco Malfoy now was that so few people had managed to see. This time, her speech was punctuated by questions from Ron, sharp and interrogative questions, which Hermione did her best to answer, reminding herself that it all came from a place of caring.

"Well," Ron said when Hermione was finally finished. "I think you could do better. Much better. He just better not hurt you. You'll tell me – us, Harry and me – if anything happens? Right?"

"Of course, but I really don't think I'll have to."

Ron nodded shortly – an acknowledgement, a concession of sorts, Hermione understood with relief. There was a pause, whilst Ron reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck in a way he always did when he felt awkward and apprehensive. "I've got something to tell you too."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I – um – I'm seeing someone too."

Hermione's heart jumped with excitement and curiosity. "Oh?"

"Yeah. A big part of our training is learning about the Muggle world. Particularly Muggle law enforcement, and national and international security. Dad's loving it – keeps asking about MI5. So they buddy purebloods up with a Muggle-born each, as a kind of mentor scheme. And my mentor, he's taken me to Muggle pubs and stuff. And...I met a girl one night. She's – she's really nice. It's – er – going well. She doesn't know anything about the magical world though. I'm currently applying to the DMLE to get permission to be able to tell her."

Hermione knew that that process was notoriously rigorous. "Oh. It must be serious between you then."

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm hoping we get granted permission by July – I want to bring her to your graduation ceremony, you see."

"Oh, it would be lovely to meet her."

"Yeah. Yeah, cool."

They talked on into the night, about the upcoming Easter holiday, Hermione's studies and Ron's training, about Hogwarts gossip. And, strangely, it felt like old times. But different. And that was maybe how it should be.

Yet again, the healers recommended that Hermione stay with her parents over the Easter holidays. Even though she wasn't sure how much more she could take of their blank faces and puzzled expressions, she could not give up hope. The love she had for her parents drew her back to them, hope still tugging at her heart that maybe this would be the time when the memories buried deep in their minds would resurface.

Draco had offered to come and stay with her, but the Grangers had refused to have a couple lodging with them, so he went back to the Manor, intent on owling her everyday.

It was only a day into the holidays when something strange happened. Hermione was helping her mother put the washing on the line, when Mrs Granger suddenly froze still, staring at a bed sheet that was billowing in the breeze, her hand clutched to her heart, her eyes flitting between the sheet and Hermione.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I just had the strangest image – like deja vu. Of us, hanging out the linen, but you – you were younger and playing amongst the sheets."

Hermione's heart soared. She had used to do that all the time when her mum put out the washing, used to pretend that the sheets were her own special tent – a royal tent on a battlefield maybe, and she would gallivant in and out of the hanging sheets, brandishing a stick as a sword, keeping the enemy away.

"Oh, how funny. Is there anything else you remem – you imagined?" Hermione asked eagerly.

Her mother was gazing into the middle distance. She shook her head slowly. "Just that – only – no, no, it's nothing…" and she wandered back into the house.

There weren't as many of the odd looks and stifled whispers as there'd been before. Hermione wasn't sure if that was because they were more used to her, but she couldn't help hoping that it was maybe because she felt more familiar to them in an uncanny, unconscious way.

The Grangers also seemed much more keen to spend more time with their lodger than before. They invited her to eat with them, to cook with them, to go for walks over the weekends.

Then, a few days after the sheet episode, Hermione was helping her father tidy up the attic. He was going through some old boxes, and in one discovered a pile of children's books: Charlotte's Web, Alice in Wonderland, The Secret Garden... Hermione hadn't been able to part with them when she'd originally erased all trace of herself from her childhood home, and had since forgotten she'd hidden the books here.

Her father frowned down at them in confusion. "I don't know why we have these. Must have been storing them for Helen's little niece."

He sifted through the content, talking about them as he went. "Oh, I really liked this one when I was a boy, Wind and the Willows and here – here's one of your favorites – Beatrix Potter. You used to love the illustrations in this – d'you remember that old stuffed toy of Peter Rabbit you had? You never wanted to part with it –" Her father halted, staring at her, dazed and perplexed.

Hermione realised she'd been holding her breath. "Yes?" she asked, wishing he father would go on, hoping against hope that his memories had not dissolved already.

"I'm sorry – I don't know – I'm not sure what that was about, you must have told me before about liking Beatrix Potter…"

And, like her mother, he shook his head and carried on sorting through the books.

But the incidents kept happening. Whilst out in the garden one day, her mother remembered that lilies were Hermione's favourite flower. When they had roast lamb for dinner one evening, her father deliberately didn't serve her parsnips. "I know you hate those," he said, despite the fact Hermione had never told him that since they'd returned from Australia.

Each time, Hermione would cajole, would prod, to try and tease out their memories, but the healers had warned her that if she were too pushy, it could be too alarming, too much of a shock, and possibly cause their minds to bury the memories once again.

But the incidents continued to happen with more frequency, multiple times a day. Then, towards the end of the holidays, Hermione and her father were returning home after a walk over the Chiltern hills. As they entered into the house through the back door and into the kitchen, Hermione found herself laughing at a joke her father had made, laughing hard and brightly, and causing her mother to turn around at their entrance. In the light-hearted ease of the moment, Hermione lost her grasp on her inhibition and could not stop herself from saying, "No, dad, take your wellies off here! Mum will have a fit if you walk mud into the kitchen!"

Both her parents froze, their mouths agape, staring at her. She desperately tried to think of an explanation, of excuses, and waited for the parents' confusion and wariness. But it didn't come. Instead, the mug of tea that her mother had been holding slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor. She looked faint, white, and grasped onto the edge of the kitchen table before sinking into a chair, her gaze fixed on Hermione all the while. She reached a hand out towards her.

"My daughter," she whispered in wonderment, her arm shaking. "Come here."

Hermione saw it then, in her mother's eyes – the light of recognition.

She walked tentatively towards her mother as she heard her father breathe out a "My God" behind her. She glanced quickly back at him, and saw the shine in his eyes too – he remembered as well.

Hope soared in her heart. A myriad of emotions bubbled to the service and manifested in the warm sting of tears in her eyes. She took her mother's hand as her father stood by her side.

"It's just all come back. Like a wave," her mother said in wonderment. "It's all come back. But why – what happened?"

So all through that evening, over numerous cups of tea, and a risotto she helped her father make, Hermione told her parents of how and the why she had come to Obliviate their memories over a year and a half before, and all that has happened to her since. It was an edited version, of course. She spared them the pain of knowing the real danger, the suffering, that she'd been through.

"Oh. And there's something else I need to tell you!" she said, as they sat in their living room, snuggled under a blanket that covered her and her mother's knees. Her parents looked at her in interest. "I have a boyfriend now… and I'd really like you to meet him."

The healers were very interested in why her parents' memories had resurfaced so quickly. They questioned Hermione on what, if anything, had been different over the most recent time she had spent with them. And after numerous questions, hypothesising and theorising, Hermione reflected, "Well, I suppose I was different. I – I've been more my old self, more alive, for the first time since the war ended. Before that, I was a bit like a shell of who I was."

"Well, that must be it then," the healers had surmised. "Before, they must not have recognised you because you were too far removed from who you used to be, from the daughter they'd known. It's like your parents knew all along, even if it was just an unconscious type of knowing. Knew you weren't quite yourself, and they certainly knew when you'd come back."

And so Hermione returned to Hogwarts, enveloped in the comfort of her parents' restored memories, and of Draco's warm touch as he held her hand when they walked through the halls.

The girls in the Gryffindor dorm got ready quietly on the morning of the second of May. The atmosphere in their dorm was delicate and fragile.

"That looks lovely," Parvati commented on Hermione's dress at one point.

"Thanks."

Then, a little while later, "Do you think this flower in my hair's too much?" This from Parvati again, who was now grasping a bunch of lavender in her hand.

"No...it's subtle...it looks good Par," Ginny reassured.

"It goes really well with your sari too," Hermione added, to Parvati's appreciative smile.

Hermione knew how important this kind of talk was to Parvati. And this morning, above all mornings, she and Ginny were making a special effort to try to say the words that Lavender would have said if she'd been there.

Because today was the anniversary of the Battle. A year exactly since Harry had turned Tom Riddle's body to ash. A year since so many others had fallen.

Remembrance Day.

The ceremony was taking place in the grounds, and the Gryffindors made their way there together. As they came to the Entrance Hall, the group stopped wordlessly. Just a moment later, a group of Slytherins – Draco, Pansy, Nott and Zabini – came into the Entrance Hall after them. They halted as they saw the group of Gryffindors looking silently at a spot on the stone floor, underneath the stairway.

The spot where Lavender's body had landed. After it had fallen through the air like a rag doll and where it was savaged by Greyback.

Parvati walked forwards and placed a bunch of lavender down on the flagstones, attempting to prop them up by the wall.

The flowers leaned awkwardly and a little pathetically against the stone. Parvati, with silent tears already spilling from her eyes, reached out her wand and attempted to conjure a glass vase, but her arm was shaking and her casting was clumsy. The glass immediately turned to sand, which collapsed in a heap on the flagstone.

But then Nott and Draco silently stepped forward, one of them conjuring a vase, the other a purple ribbon that tied itself around the glass as the lavender was levitated in to it. Although it made for a much more dignified tribute, it was still somewhat dwarfed by the vast stone walls of the Entrance Hall, and still looked rather pitiful as a result.

"Here! Someone help me with this!"

Hermione turned and saw Zabini trying to half-push, half-carry a side table from the other side of the Hall towards them. Of course – he still couldn't use a wand. Hermione immediately understood his intent, and so did the others it seemed because someone hurried to help him – Seamus – and together they carried the table over to the spot by the flowers. Zabini lifted the vase and placed it gently on the table.

Seamus nodded at Zabini in acknowledgement. "Thanks mate."

"There. That's much better." Ginny said with a quiet satisfaction, as the group stared at the lavender that burst out of the pretty vase on the table.

Pansy cocked her head to the side. "Hmm...something's still missing," she said. She raised her wand at the table and a dark purple cloth appeared on it, embroidered with a silver border.

Parvati swiped a tear from her cheek. "That's pretty. Thank you," she said.

Hermione felt a warm hand grasp hers and realised that Draco had come to stand by her side.

"You okay?" he asked her quietly. "You going to be alright today?"

Hermione smiled up at him. "Yes. Yes, I really think I will be."

Since their return to school after the Easter holidays, Hermione's friends had gradually got used to the idea of a Draco-Hermione couple. But she could still tell that Harry and Ginny in particular had not entirely warmed to the idea. She knew this was borne out of a concern for her, that they still didn't quite trust Draco and his intentions.

Hermione wasn't sure if there was anything more she could really do about the situation, until one night when she was walking by the Lake with Harry, Ginny and Luna when a shout echoed down the hillside towards them. "Granger! Hermione!"

They all stopped and turned to see Draco hurrying towards them, his wand brandished in his hand, and Pansy, Nott and Zabini running in his wake. To Hermione's surprise, Draco had an uncharacteristic grin on his face, and an energetic bounce to his stride.

"Granger!" he exclaimed again when he reached her. He quickly nodded at the others in acknowledgement. "Look at this!"

She couldn't help but give him a broad smile. It was so rare to see him like this – unguarded and uninhibited, letting his feelings show without any filter. "What?"

Nott moved towards Luna, greeting her with a kiss on the lips, as Zabini pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, an amused smile on his face.

Draco took a deep breath, raised his wand towards the Lake, and cried out, "Expecto Patronum!"

Bright light burst from his wand's tip and ballooned out into a vast sphere of ethereal white, a much larger light than he'd been able to conjure before. Then, to Hermione's astonishment, the white light morphed into a long, lithe creature that started to bound – well, to swim – around them.

"Oh!" Luna said lightly. "It's an otter!"

"Is that what it is?" Draco said, keeping his wand outstretched and gaze fixed on the ethereal creature, still concentrating hard on the charm. "I wasn't sure. I've only managed to conjure it a few times."

Hermione remembered that Draco had never seen what form her corporeal Patronus took. She glanced quickly at her friends. Harry was looking at the ethereal creature in slight bewilderment, Luna with a quiet calm, and Ginny had a knowing smile on her face.

"No, it's not, it's – well, it's –" Hermione garbled.

"It's definitely an otter," Ginny said, grinning amusedly.

Draco glanced at them uncertainly, whilst still concentrating on maintaining his Patronus charm, which he was doing impressively well. "I feel like I'm missing something. Is there something particularly meaningful about an otter Patronus or something?"

There was an awkward silence.

"I think there is a particular meaning in your case, Draco, yes." Luna's lilting voice finally broke the silence, but she was looking pointedly at Hermione, her gaze still and penetrating.

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. She hadn't tried conjuring a Patronus since the fourth task. As far as she knew, the form of her Patronus might have changed.

She sighed resignedly, pulled out her wand and pointed it towards the glassy surface of the Lake, which was now reflecting the reds and golds of the setting sun. She forcefully brought to mind the time she'd opened her O.W.L. results, and a particular time on the Hogwarts Express, laughing with Harry and Ron, when she'd experienced for the first time the powerful, comforting bonds of true friendship.

And she felt the joy, the happiness of those moments firing the blood in her veins, making her heart leap, in a way she hadn't felt the last time she'd practised the charm.

"Expecto Patronum!" she cried out.

White light burst from her wand, wide and steady. She thought of her mother's smile and father's laugh, both of their expressions warm with recognition and affection as they'd all reminisced about a holiday they'd had in France. The white light expanded. She thought of Draco, his touch and kiss, his voice when he told her he loved her... The white light whirled and shimmered, and suddenly there was its form: an otter, much like Draco's, which started to dance and swim across the air.

She allowed herself a momentary grin, exhilarated by the fact that she had once again managed to conjure this thing: joy made visible, made it into a white light that gleamed and glowed, something that seemed intangible but was strong enough to protect from the wretchedness of sorrows that could break a person over and over again.

"Well. They both look like otters to me," Blaise remarked dryly.

Hermione saw Draco's mouth open in astonishment as he stared at their Patronuses, which were now cavorting around each other, bounding and leaping, as if in some kind of dance. The light that both charms made was mesmerising in the fading twilight.

"Oh, how pretty!" Luna exclaimed.

"What does it mean?" Draco asked, his arm shaking slightly. "They're the same. What does it mean?"

"Well it means you're both –" Luna started, but Hermione interrupted her. Who knew what wild theories Luna had of this little-understood phenomenon?

"No one really knows. No one really knows what it means – it's rare and poorly researched."

"But it definitely means something," Harry said quietly.

Draco snapped his head towards Harry, before turning to her and finally lowering his wand, causing his otter to fade away into the dusk. Hermione did the same. They stood looking at each other. His face still had a look of wonderment on it, a hint of hope and happiness he rarely let anyone see.

"Well. That was all very lovely." Ginny finally broke the silence. "But I'm getting hungry and don't want to stand and stare at you two standing and staring at each other all evening. Want to head to dinner?"

"Count me in," Pansy retorted

Ginny turned and started walking up the hillside. Pansy, Luna, Nott and Blaise followed in her wake.

"They always have apple crumble on Fridays, and that's one of my favourites!" Luna said brightly as the group walked away.

"You say that about every pudding we have, Luna." Ginny replied.

"Luna doesn't believe in true superlatives..." Hermione heard Nott say affectionately, before their voices started to fade away.

Harry was still standing, his eyes flitting thoughtfully between Hermione and Draco. "Are you coming, then?" he asked.

Hermione noticed, with a burst of happiness, that it was an invitation to both of them.

"Yes," she replied, stepping forward and taking Draco's hand.

And so they quickly caught up with the others and, amongst laughter and the light of the setting sun, the group walked up the hillside together.

A/N: Huge thanks to Frumpologist and scullymurphy for being amazingly encouraging alphabetas.

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