Welcome to the final chapter/epilogue of this story. I am sorry I haven't updated it in the weekly schedule like the others, but the holidays are always a bit of a black hole for me. But I want to express the immense gratitude I feel for each and every review and favourite and bookmark.

Endless thanks to niffizzle - she taught me so much! If you haven't already, check out her stories (they're so much better than everything I could ever write, and I am not making myself small with that statement).

It was with a very firm thud that Draco slapped their parchments on Snape's desk. Normally, Hermione would frown upon this treatment of assigned homework, but this time, she stood next to Draco and barely suppressed a grin.

"We found a solution." Malfoy smiled triumphantly. "Take a look at it."

Indeed, Professor Snape unfolded the first roll. Hermione's, as she recognised from the narrow space between the lines, even against the light.

"What do these blacked out parts mean? They seem to become more frequent the further the essay progresses," Snape inquired.

Hermione was only too happy to explain. "Oh, the black bars? They occur when the content refers to occurences of a nature that is considered private. An updated Filter Charm of my own design, if I can proudly say so."

Snape, judging by his increasingly raised eyebrows, understood alright. He unscrolled the rest of Hermione's essay, eyes widening in something akin to shock as he saw how practically the entire text was blacked out. "Your research was pretty intensive, I gather."

"It's not so much the research. It's the joy of experimenting with the magic given to us," Draco commented, his voice such a perfect drawl that Hermione felt her own magic prickling in excitement.

"Well, it's time to continue our lesson, don't you think?" Hermione threw in, tugging at Draco's hand.

"Obviously."

The sound Snape made was something between a grumpy cat and a scandalised old lady.

Hermione pulled Draco into the potions cabinet where he pressed her against the nearest shelf. Her lips captured his, and he kissed her back as feverently. A few moments into their snogging, someone knocked against the — this time, warded — door.

"Oi, there are other students in need of… Something!"

"Get lost, Ron!"

"Tell Pansy to use the broom closet for 'something' because this place is too crowded already!" Draco added, his forehead resting comfortably against Hermione's breastbone.

"Where was I?" he asked, raising his head again, and his eyes relit the fire within Hermione's core.

An entirely different kind of pull.

She used her own body to change their positions so that it was now him that was pinned against the shelf.

Draco groaned, submitting himself to her as she nipped the sensitive skin at the side of his neck. "You were following my lead."

He grinded his hips against her in response so she could feel his reaction. "Just as you are following mine."

From then on, a verbal response was impossible to her. Not that it was needed.

Of course, Hermione and Draco still pushed against each other.

Forward. Against each other. To the best and to the worst.

But they always returned to the pull. To synchronicity in the chaos. To draw power from the conflict.

A conflict that was a discourse and not a fight.