Author's Note: Welcome back! We have now reached the final stage of this story and after this chapter, will have 2 more to go – one of which will likely be a relatively short epilogue chapter. I just want to thank you all again for taking this journey with me; I'm still blown away by all the positive reactions I've gotten on this story. You are amazing!

A special thank you to Lillylarlar (I LOVE your ship name for Sophie and Draco haha), Ghostwriter71 (your praise is too much really!), Vemaria (I'm super happy you enjoyed it and think my OC is realistic and that I captured the existing characters well), and Lissi 45829 (I'm sorry, I noticed in the previous chapter's AN your name fell away due to how FF handles strings of numbers. But I'm so happy your enjoy this story! I feel so called out by your expectations haha, but hope not to disappoint anyone ;)).

Enjoy this chapter!

May 2, 1997
Bath

As requested, Narcissa deposited her on the steps in front of her home in Bath, the street thankfully devoid of people in the falling darkness. There she had remained for several long minutes, long after the witch had Disapparated with another crack, as she considered what lay behind the door. Despite her insistence on going home right away, everything in her – her very heartbeat – told her she wasn't ready to face her parents.

Ready or not, the door opened all too soon on its own, her mother's arms pulling her inside and into a fierce hug. A whisper against her ear told her that they had seen her standing in front of the door through the living room window, and how happy they were to find she was well. Before she had time to respond, she was pulled further into the house, into the living room, into the warm, familiar couch. Her father was there too, getting up from his seat immediately at her entrance and pulling her into another tight embrace.

As his head rested on hers, and he reiterated sentiments of relief and love, Sophie unexpectedly found a sob bubbling up in her throat. Her father pulled back at the sound, surprise on his face at seeing his normally so emotionally stable daughter reduced to tears.

'What's wrong, love?' Tilly asked, putting down the mug of tea she had gotten from the kitchen to squat down in front of her. 'Is the news… not good?'

Sophie shook her head, forcing herself to speak to explain herself even though her voice was broken, 'We won.'

That statement caused her mother to clasp her hands, another show of relief, of love – bringing on another wave of tears.

Her mother's face, swimming in front of her, displayed her confusion, 'Did something happen? Did… did something happen to Draco?'

'Draco's fine.'

'His mother?'

'She's fine. They're all…' she sniffed, 'Fine.' With reluctance, she pulled her hands free from her mother's safe hold, using their backs to wipe the tears from her eyes. Then, taking a deep breath, she sat up and away from her father's hand on her back. Even so, the reluctance she felt at pulling away from their loving touches was no greater than the shame she felt at having accepted them for so long. 'There's something I need to tell you.'

-xxx-

A long silence followed her explanation. It had been more difficult this time to explain how she had come to this world, for the sole reason that with Emma there had been a part of her that knew her friend would not have regarded her differently. She had gotten to know Sophie only after she had appeared in this world, and so the story was only just that: a story. Interesting, unbelievable, or fantastic, but a story regardless.

But her mother had given birth to old Sophie, Andrew and Tilly had lived with old Sophie for eight years. They had raised her. Loved her. And by appearing here as she had, she had taken that away from them.

'So you're not… you aren't…' Her father gazed unseeingly at the black screen of the telly, visibly struggling for words. 'You are not the girl who was born to us?'

Sophie shook her head, trying not to feel the pain of his statement. She knew that she should have expected this, had even expected it, but it was different knowing and actually feeling this sense of utter disconnection from the people she considered her parents for many years now.

Her mother stood at last, putting a hand through her pepper-and-salt hair. 'I should go to bed, I'm sorry.'

Her father turned to her, giving her a sympathetic smile though she noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. 'Don't take it to heart, Soph. Your m… Tilly needs time to process this – we both do. We will talk more in the morning, okay?' And with those words, he too rose and went upstairs.

May 3, 1997
Bath

The next day was a Saturday, Sophie didn't have school yet, Andrew didn't have work. However, Tilly did go to church. Sophie tried not to read too much into her mother's revival of faith, but she couldn't help but feel that it was related to her revelation the previous night.

She pushed away the resulting emptiness as she picked up the phone, dialling the by-now familiar number of Emma's temporary address. For once, the phone was answered immediately.

'Sophie, it's so good to hear you!'

'Likewise, Emma,' she smiled despite herself. 'It feels like forever since we last spoke.'

Emma hummed, 'Since you're calling, I'm assuming you have heard the good news?'

Sophie thought for a moment about telling her friend that she had more than heard, but figured she could fill her in on the details later. 'I did. How is your family? Are they all alright?'

'All unharmed,' Emma confirmed. 'We actually received an owl from Collin this morning, saying there was a battle at the castle yesterday but that he and Dennis are both well.' She snorted, 'The idiot, he complained not having been able to take any photos of Harry Potter defeating You-Know-Who. Can you believe that?'

'Somehow it doesn't sound too odd, coming from Collin.'

'I guess not,' she chuckled. 'Well, I got to go. We are going back home today, but we should meet up. Soon!'

'Soon,' Sophie agreed.

'Alright, talk to you later. Bye!'

Sophie spent another moment with the phone against her ear, not quite ready to continue with her own life. However, when her father came out of the kitchen, holding a mug of what she assumed to be coffee in one hand and his reading glasses in the other, she was forced to give up the lifeline.

'How was Emma?'

'She's fine; her parents and brothers were well.'

'That's… good.' He stood in the door opening for a moment, uncertainly glancing between the back door and her. He sighed, 'I was actually just going to sit outside – it's such a lovely day – won't you join me? Maybe we can have another of our chess matches?'

Equally uncertain, Sophie considered the less-than-enthusiastic offer, then nodded. She got out the chess board from under the coffee table, and followed him outside.

Her father had been right; it was a nice day. The air was still cool, but the sun shone with an intensity that chased away any chill from the back garden. A light breeze played with the leaves on some of the bushes. Still, as she sat down on the cast iron chair across from her father, she couldn't help but feel cold.

They spent the first half of the game in silence, broken only every once in a while by her father with a thoughtful hum or a whisper to himself. All the while, Sophie sat tensed, waiting for the inevitable moment that the caricature of normalcy would be broken.

It came at last, when her father cleared one of her white bishops from the board. On any other day, she would have easily avoided the sloppy loss, but she couldn't deny that her head just wasn't in the game.

He put the chess piece next to the board, in the growing pile of white pieces, but didn't immediately release his hold. Instead, he turned the bishop in his fingers for a moment, then looked up at Sophie with a pain in his eyes that caught her off guard. 'Sophie, you must understand that what you told us yesterday… well, you dropped quite a bomb on us. Knowing that there is an entire magical world that I knew nothing about is one thing; hearing that your daughter is actually an eighteen year-old girl who came from an entirely different universe is something else.'

Sophie bowed her head, closing her eyes to keep her father from seeing the tears in her eyes. He shouldn't feel guilty for speaking the truth. Really, hadn't she known this was coming all along – ever since she first came to this world? She took over their daughter's body, their daughter's life. She pretended to be their child and caused them all kinds of trouble. Could she really fault them for asking her to leave?

'What I want to say is that… you may not have been born to us or been with us all these years. But you are our daughter, and we love you as such.'

A loud clatter followed his words, as Sophie sprang up from her seat and threw herself in her father's arms with a loud sob. Chess pieces lay scattered on the table and on the tiles below, but neither father nor daughter noticed.

May 17, 1997
Bath

Despite her father's assurances, Sophie found that something had changed between them, something that was not touchable but still seemed to penetrate the air every time her parents and she were in the same room. Where before there had been unconditional trust and an instinctual understanding, everything now was difficult and confusing. Even though it was clear all of them tried their best to move on, it sometimes felt like they were speaking in a different language.

As it was, Sophie was almost relieved when Monday came and school started again – even if that meant having to give an elaborate and disgustingly detailed description of the stomach flu that had kept her bed-ridden to Sanaya and Veronica. From thereon, it was almost too easy to lose herself in the mundane activities and concerns of ordinary life. However, to keep herself from thinking about the magical world turned out to be more difficult.

In particular, as the days progressed, she found herself thinking of Draco – and begrudgingly, she admitted to herself that she missed his company. It was only to be expected of course, after being cooped up at headquarters for so long, but it nevertheless annoyed her how natural it now seemed to want to talk to him.

At the same time, she tried not to be too disappointed by his apparent lack of reciprocation. Two weeks passed and despite having seemed unwilling to see her go, Draco didn't write. Not even a short note to tell her he'd gotten back to headquarters safely. Nothing. Again, she was quite good in practically distracting herself from that fact, but turning her mind away from it was more difficult.

As such, when the weekend arrived, it arrived with mixed feelings on the side of Sophie that made her decide early on that she would spend it catching up on any reading and assignments that she had missed, and getting ahead on anything upcoming. It was Saturday morning, Sophie had just filled up her mug of coffee in the kitchen, and was ready to do just that when the doorbell rang. She watched her parents through the kitchen window in the garden, then sighed, putting down her mug and making for the front door. She had resigned herself to a tedious conversation with one of the neighbours looking for her mother – or perhaps an equally tedious conversation with one of her father's co-workers – when she opened the door to reveal a familiar pink-haired woman.

For the first five seconds or so, Sophie did not respond at all, simply staring at Nymphadora Tonks as if she was a ghost – and by all rights, she should be. Then, she threw herself around the witch, who patted her on the back awkwardly until she at last pulled back.

Misreading the question in her eyes, Tonks explained, 'I'm here to take down the wards as you requested. I would have come sooner but last week's been pretty hectic.'

Sophie nodded in understanding, slowly regaining control of her mental faculties and having the good sense to step aside to let the witch in. Only as she did so did she spot the boy who stood a little behind her, dressed like her in casual muggle clothes, a bag slung over his shoulder and his hands stuffed into his pockets. As Tonks moved inside and left the two friends to greet, he stepped up to her and demonstratively dropped her bag at Sophie's feet.

'Thanks,' Sophie said, dryly, before picking up the bag and leading him into the hallway. Tonks had already gone into the living room where she noticed that her parents had now also moved – her mother looking a bit pinched as she watched the witch at work, her father with some degree of interest.

Sophie watched her too for a moment then, realising there was little to be done for her, she turned to Draco, trying to sound nonchalant as she asked, 'So why are you here? I'm sure Tonks could have carried my bag if needed.'

He looked at her for a moment with that distinctive expression that suggested she had asked a stupid question. 'You promised me you would lend me a CD.'

It took a good few seconds before she remembered, then she sighed. 'Right, "Imagine". Come on then, I don't assume we'll be missed here anyway.'

They trudged up the stairs in silence and as she pushed open the door to her room, Sophie was secretly glad that she had gathered her dirty laundry that morning and brought it downstairs. She dropped the bag against her desk, then moved further into the room to hunt down the promised CD. When she at last emerged victorious from digging through one of her drawers, she found Draco had hardly moved from his position by the door, looking terribly out of place even in his Muggle clothes.

She moved over to him, holding out the CD to him in a silent offer.

He didn't immediately accept it, instead looking down at the flat plastic cover just long enough that she wondered if it was possible he had somehow forgotten about his own request. Then he took it from her hands, looking at it for just a moment before fixing his gaze back on hers, and saying in the most factual voice, 'You are a right idiot.'

'I'm what now?' She asked, confused and offended.

'You must know that of course Potter would tell everyone all about what happened in the forest. Well, he also happened to mentioned that you were there – and what you did. Ergo, you are an idiot.'

She ignored him, realising that there was no question there and therefore, no need for her to answer. She knew that what she had done was daring, even a little mental, but it was what had needed to be done. She crossed her arms, 'Why were you there anyway? Didn't you go to the Manor?'

'I did. And then I came to the castle.'

'Why?'

'Do you remember the conversation we had with Dumbledore after we first came to the headquarters?'

Sophie thought for a moment, a vague memory coming to her mind's eye of the headmaster, a cup of tea, and her raging nerves and beating heart. She remembered how she had been so sure that he would call her out – and had because of that missed all else. 'Pretend that I don't.'

He sighed, 'Dumbledore had my mother and I promise that when the time came, we would fight for the good side. In the end, it was a good thing I did – I should have known you would do something completely mental.'

A short silence followed his words, and Sophie reached for something to fill it. 'So how have things been since then?'

'Well… the Ministry has been reinstated, they made Shacklebolt Minister – can't say I really like him but I guess he's better than some of the other options. The prisoners from the Manor are still at the headquarters recovering their health, although I dare say the Goblin is being a right arse about it all.'

These were things she knew, but there was one thing nagging at her mind. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but couldn't help but ask anyway with bated breath, 'And the dead?'

'Well, there are plenty, of course – on both sides. Some parents, I believe Longbottom's grandmother too, one of the teachers. But as to those you might know… Alastor Moody died, as did Mundungus Fletcher – in trying to flee, if you can believe it,' he snorted. 'I'm not sure if you remember him, but Dobby, our old House-Elf, died as well. He was released from my family's employment in my second year at Hogwarts and spent time working at Hogwarts ever since. He led a charge of some of the House-Elves and apparently, got trapped under some of the rubble.'

'What about Fred Weasley?'

He looked confused, but didn't ask. 'Still alive – though either he or his brother did get struck with a rather nasty curse. I don't believe he is in any mortal danger, but he should be out of it for a while.'

'Lupin?'

'Alive.'

She was silent for a moment, then 'Severus Snape?'

'Alive.'

She nodded, satisfied and with a weight lifted from her shoulders. 'And what about you? How have you been?'

Draco shrugged, 'Can't complain, I suppose. My mother and I have moved out of headquarters almost immediately after the battle, and are renting a townhouse in wizarding London while the Manor is being cleared of any trace of Voldemort.

'Lucius was captured and has been taken to Azkaban to await trial,' he added after a short hesitation. Then, before she could decide on how to respond to this news, 'How have you been?'

'Same old same old, I guess. I resumed my old life, with school, my parents, friends…'

'And your boyfriend?'

Unexpectedly, that drew a laugh from her. Perhaps it was the sheer awkwardness that filled the room – perhaps she was just surprised that he remembered. 'Ryan? That ended ages ago! As it turned out – or rather, as I knew all along – he really wasn't my type.'

Draco pulled up a white eyebrow at this, 'I didn't know you had a type. And what would be your type, do tell.'

'I don't know… I guess just someone who is intelligent, someone who I can have meaningful conversations with, but who is also funny and shares my interests… It wouldn't hurt if he was good-looking too.'

Draco looked smug and even before he opened his mouth, she knew that whatever he was about to say was going to make her want to slap him around the head. 'Well I wasn't aware you had fallen for me that hard, and that without even trying.'

She snorted, 'And you think that describes you? Conceited and arrogant would better fit you.'

'Well nowhere in your description did it say such a person could not fit both.'

She tried to glare at him, but found that it only came half-heartedly. The truth was that although she had never allowed herself to think of him in such terms, Draco did fit her description of a boyfriend quite well. If she didn't know that he would go on to marry Astoria Greengrass, she might even consider it. But she did know and therefore, she responded in an attempted airy tone, 'Well if you ever come across such a person, do give him my phone number.' And with those words, she moved past him and towards the stairs.