A/N: Hey, everyone! First of all, THE OUT ALL NIGHT FOR ICECREAM THING WAS A BLAST! WE GOT A TICKET FOR PARKING FOR EIGHT HOURS IN A ONE HOUR PARKING ZONE! WE'RE SO SCREWED! LIFE IS GREAT! MY BEST FRIEND IS AWESOME! I LOVE SEATTLE, WASHINGTON, EVEN THOUGH I RARELY GO THERE AND I ALMOST DIED GETTING ICECREAM AND "BOY SCOUTING" T-SHIRTS! Secondly, I decided that, since I received so many favorable reviews (I'd like to give a special thanks to Lyth Taeraneth and Anaita for remaining loyal and supportive of this fic since day one... and for giving me lots of feedback and inspiration. Also, thank you, corey, simply because I've never really been called "adorable" before), I'll get this posted much sooner than the previous chapter (it did seem to take forever, didn't it? I got smacked with a serious case of writer's block. I'm serious. I think my muse got chained to down or something. Anyway, here's chapter twenty three, which happens to be the SECOND TO THE LAST CHAPTER OF THIS FIC. But DON'T WORRY, because it will be continued through a series of one-shots. And they'll all involve special events/holidays. The first one-shot will be titled "Get Dressed Before You Kill Ron," and it will involve "the gang" getting drunk on New Year's Eve.

Disclaimer: The lyrics to "Turn It Up" belong exclusively to The Alan Parsons Project.

Sidenote: If you've never heard Jimmy Eat World's "Sweetness," I suggest you somehow manage to do so. It's a great song to dance to. By the way, Puddle Of Mudd's "She Hates Me" is also a great song, but you can't sing it in the presence of three year olds at ten o'clock at night. (especially when they're with their mothers. What I want to know is why women would let their three year old girl stay up that late). My best friend and I found this out on our icecream night. Oh, and I haven't been able to get Unwritten Law's "Save Me" out of my head, and my best friend and I danced to Chevelle's "The Clincher" at a club in Seattle on that icecream night. And right now I'm saving up my spare cash to get Muse's "Absolution" (I love their newest single, "Hysteria"). I'll bet you can tell by now that I really don't like music, particularly rock.

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Chapter Twenty Three

"Take a photograph; it'll be the last

Not a dollar or a crowd could ever keep me here

I don't have a past, I just have a chance"

"Rain," Breaking Benjamin

Draco sighed in relief as he left the classroom, happy to be finished with the very last final he would ever have to take. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. Harry was still sitting in front of his cauldron, his eyebrows scrunched together in a combination of concentration and irritation; concentration because his tongue was sticking out slightly, and irritation because he kept sending murderous glances in Snape's direction.

Draco smirked and leaned against the doorway, folding his arms against his chest. After a few more minutes, Harry added the final ingredient of the potion, and Snape let him leave, albeit grudgingly. One would have thought that Snape would have been grateful to send Harry as far away from Hogwarts as possible, not consider giving him the failing marks that would keep him around for another year or so.

Straightening, Draco waited for Harry to approach him. When Harrystopped athis side, Draco reached out and traced Harry's eyebrows with his index finger. "You were looking a little tense, love," he murmured teasingly, his lips tilting up in a small smile when Harry shivered.

"One professor I will not regret leaving behind is him," Harry stated bitterly, jerking his head toward Snape, who was currently sneering at Ron's attempt to brew the potion that the sour professor had chosen for the final exam. "Git."

"Just think," Draco said, slowly looping his arm around Harry's waist. "It was our last exam."

And then Harry smiled, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah," he said. "And might I just say that it's about bloody time, too."

Draco laughed softly. "Want to go celebrate?"

"Celebrate?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised. Draco nodded, reaching out to cup Harry's... er... jeans. "Oh," Harry said, gulping and looking around. "You mean celebrate." He grasped Draco's wrist and began to lead him to the Slytherin common room at a brisk pace.

"What's your hurry?" Draco asked, eyeing the view that Harry made from behind appreciatively.

"Got to work off some of that tension," Harry muttered.

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"Harry?" Draco asked softly, stroking Harry's jaw with his index finger.

"Hm?" Harry said, his eyes still closed.

"Um... what are we going to do after school's over?"

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. "I thought we established what we were going to do."

"Well, yeah, I know we're not going to leave each other or anything like that," Draco said uncomfortably, sitting up as well. "What I mean is... where are we going to live? Are you going to get a job? You know, stuff like that."

"Oh. I haven't really thought about that, to tell you the truth," Harry replied honestly. "I've been more or less fixated on the thought of you and me staying together or saying goodbye."

Draco pulled Harry closer to him and kissed his temple. "Thanks," he said. "Me, too, actually. And that's why the thought is bothering me now."

Harry laughed. "You always going to brood this much after sex?"

Draco let a half-smile creep across his features before he was serious again. "Seriously, Harry. We have to make plans."

"Make plans. That makes everything sound so... definite." Harry leaned back against the headboard of Draco's bed. "Okay, I take it we're not going to be returning to Malfoy Manor...?" Draco shook his head decisively. "Good," Harry said. "I don't think I'd really feel comfortable living with a man who has blatantly expressed his desire to kill me. Repeatedly." He closed his eyes and frowned slightly. "And I was sort of hoping to live in a place that's... quiet. You know, to avoid reporters and stuff?"

"I just want to get away from people, period," Draco said. "Quiet is nice."

"You're not going to turn into a hermit, are you?" Harry asked.

"To be a hermit, you have to be completely alone," Draco said. "I'll have you with me. But don't worry. I just don't want to put up with everyone suspecting me of being a spy for Voldemort or something. You know, condemning me for the crimes I haven't committed yet?"

"Yeah. It sucks being popular, doesn't it?"

"I'm not popular," Draco protested.

"Draco, your father is a well known Death Eater, your family has pretty much always been notorious, and you're not exactly one to stand in the background or hide in a corner when you're in public places."

"Which also means all of the press and recognition I do happen to get tells everyone that I'm a bad person. My name sort of happens to pop up after front page bold lettering that says something along the lines of 'Massacre in the Ministry,' or 'Dark Lord Rises Again and is Out for Blood.' Of course, they never say I was actually part of the massacre. They just say my father was, and that automatically makes me a murderer."

Harry stroked Draco's hair soothingly. "So we'll live somewhere that's less... crowded."

"Harry, we're never going to completely escape the press or anything like that," Draco warned.

"I know. I'm pretty much used to it now, though." Harry shrugged. "The only time I get really bothered is when I get absolutely swarmed. I'm hoping to avoid that by living somewhere that's not quite so... cityish."

"What, like the country?" Draco asked, grinning at the thought.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of the suburbs. You know, where I can step outside and breathe in fresh air instead of a bunch of smog, but I can still talk to the neighbors without having to walk a few miles."

"Suburbs it is, then," Draco agreed, repressing another smile.

"Yeah. Um... Draco...?" Harry trailed off, picking at the bedspread.

"Hm?" Draco leaned forward a bit in order to see Harry's expression better.

"About... about people knowing us and stuff..." Harry finally looked up at Draco. "I was thinking we should get out of England."

Draco's eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Only, that is, if you want to. I mean..."

Draco kissed Harry softly. "It's fine. So, what are we talking about? Ireland? Scotland? Spain?"

"How about the United States?" Harry suggested abruptly.

Draco just stared at Harry for awhile. "Er... don't take this the wrong way or anything because I'm not rejecting the idea, but... why?"

Harry exhaled. "Well... people won't really know us as well there, you know? Plus, it'll be a new experience. You want to start your life over, and so do I. What better way than to go somewhere that we haven't been before? It would really be a fresh start." He began to speak a bit faster. "Also, Ron is going there because he wants to stay with Willow, and she wants to go to college in Los Angeles. And Hermione and Dean are going with them because Hermione doesn't want to be anywhere near England after whatever is going to happen with Voldemort is over and done with. And Seamus is considering making the trip, too, because Dean's his best friend, and..."

Draco kissed Harry again, shutting him up. "Okay. We'll go to... America." Oddly enough, the idea of traveling overseas to a new life appealed to Draco. It really was a fresh start. "So, right after school's over?"

Harry stiffened. "Actually, no. You know how I said that Hermione doesn't want to be around here after this whole thing with Voldemort is over?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah. After everything is said and done with, we'll go." He regarded Harry for a second. "Are you going to get a job?"

"Er... um... I'm not entirely sure," Harry replied. "I was thinking about... well..."

"Auror?" Draco said tonelessly.

"...No," Harry said after a moment's hesitation. "I was considering trying to be a caterer or something."

Draco grinned. "You can cook? You're terrible at brewing potions."

"Potions are a completely different matter," Harry protested. "They are! Potions don't taste good, and there's no Snape to breathe down your neck and bark at you if you try to experiment a little when you're cooking."

Draco laughed. "So, caterer, then. I don't have to work, do I?"

"Not if you don't want to. I mean, it's not like you have to or anything."

"Yeah, but what if I want to?"

"Then work," Harry said simply.

"Well, see, that's the thing. I have absolutely no idea what I can do."

"Well, you've got talents. And you're not going to get into that prostitution thing, let me tell you," Harry joked. "But seriously, what do you like to do?"

"What do I like to do?" Draco asked, a little surprised. "Um... I'm going to have to think about all of that for awhile."

Harry grinned. "It's an adjustment."

"I'll say." Draco pressed his forehead against Harry's. "I'm going to be with you."

"Yeah." Harry nuzzled Draco. "Looking forward to it?"

"Hell, yes."

"We're going to fight like harpies," Harry warned.

"No kidding." Draco kissed the tip of Harry's nose. "Let's just not kill each other, okay?"

"Deal."

"And if we have to resort to killing other people, and if it just happens to be Weasley that I choose to unleash my anger on, then so be it."

"Draco..."

"I know, I know. I was just kidding." A few seconds, then, "But what if accidents were to happen...?"

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A/N: THIS ISN'T THE END OF THE CHAPTER! I just wanted to let you know that I'm skipping ahead three years to when Harry, Draco, Ron, Willow, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus are all twenty years old. To fill you in: all of wizarding Europe knows about Harry and Draco's relationship and they have to go through hell to avoid the press (Harry and Draco, that is. Not everyone else), Ron and Willow are still together, as are Hermione and Dean, and Seamus is still an irrepressibleflirt. Voldemort and his Death Eaters have been stamped out, but Dumbledore died in the process. I'm sorry. It's just the way things go (plus, I'm sort of angry with Dumbledore right now for being a chicken and not telling Harry about the stupid Prophecy and stuff. Okay, just let me grumble for a few seconds now...). Plus, Pansy and Millicent moved over there right after the war was finished for the same reasons that Draco wants to leave Europe (undeserved bad reputations), that way Draco will have friends there, too. Anyway, "the gang" is now preparing to leave for America, which is where my series of one-shots will be taking place.

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"Yeah, I think we're going to need Willow and Hermione," Ron said, eyeing the uneven piles of junk that had been stacked up in the three cars they would be driving to the airport; they couldn't legally Apparate from country to country until they were twenty-one, so they had to catch a plane to get overseas.

Harry was also staring at the precariously arranged piles. "Because there's no way those are not going to come crashing down around us."

"What's going to come crashing down around us?" Seamus asked, approaching the group of perplexed young men. The Irishman had managed to avoid doing any real work because he had mysteriously twisted his ankle a few seconds before everyone was about to set everything up. And now, just as mysteriously, his ankle seemed perfectly healed as he leaped across the last patch of Hermione's front lawn and landed on the driveway between Harry and Dean.

"The boxes," Draco said, frowning. "Remind me why we don't just magick them to stay put?"

"Because we're in a muggle neighborhood," Ron hissed. "And keep your voice down when you talk about stuff like that!"

"Why?" Draco asked. "It's who I am. Harry, your best friend doesn't want me to express myself."

Harry held up his hands defensively, backing away. "Oh, no, you two are not dragging me into the middle of another one of your insane fights." When Ron and Draco scowled at each other, Harry gulped and looked up and down the stretch of road for the Grangers' car, praying Willow and Hermione would come back soon.

"What the bloody hell is taking them so long?" Dean muttered. Apparently, Harry wasn't the only one who was a little nervous.

"Oh, come on," Seamus whispered, studying Ron and Draco intently. "You can so tell that they don't really hate each other." Dean and Harry just looked at Seamus as if he were crazy, and Draco and Ron both shouted an indignant "hey!" at the same time.

"Of course I hate Weasley. He's disgusting," Draco declared, eyeing Ron with contempt, "and poor."

"At least I have friends, you conceited jackass," Ron growled, clenching his fists.

"Yeah, well, they're stupid," Draco spat.

"You just called your boyfriend stupid," Seamus pointed out.

"Well, that wouldn't really make things any different," Harry said, raising an eyebrow at Draco. "He says stuff like that all the time." Then he frowned. "Guess I really am stupid, then, since I let him insult me so much."

"Oh, and like you don't give as good as you get," Draco snorted. "It's a good thing we can never have kids or they'd be permanently scarred, listening to some of the things you say."

"You're never going to adopt kids?" Seamus asked, looking back and forth between Harry and Draco several times before sighing. "Good. Don't think I could handle 'em. They'd be way too hyper and cause trouble, jumping all over people and stuff." Everyone just stared at Seamus, eyebrows raised. "What?" he asked, confused.

A few minutes later, Hermione and Willow pulled up into the driveway. "Okay, we've got snacks," Hermione said, shoving a grocery bag full of junk food into Dean's arms. "You happy now?"

"Yeah. Thanks, hon," Dean said, kissing Hermione's cheek.

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling. "Just be happy that I like you," she said, smacking his arm lightly. "For some reason." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

"Ugh. Heteros," Draco complained, mock-gagging.

"Effin' disgusting," Seamus agreed, coughing and beating his chest. Harry sighed, shaking his head, and pried the grocery bag from between Hermione and Dean, then walked over to the nearest car, distributing an evenamount of snacks to each vehicle.

"What's with the leaning towers of chaos?" Willow asked, indicating the piles inside the cars.

"We were trying to get everything ready," Harry replied. He waved the now empty grocery bag at Hermione. "Where do you want me to put this?" he asked. Hermione merely pointed at a recycle bin near the front porch, not breaking her lip lock with Dean.

"Well, we move an inch and everything will come falling down on our heads," Willow stated. "We've got to restack everything. And we've only got an hour before we absolutely have to be on our way to the airport."

"Don't see why we can't just Apparate," Draco said, opening a car door to begin unloading the many suitcases that were crowding the seats.

"Because it's illegal," Hermione replied, finally pulling away from Dean.

"So?" Draco retorted. Hermione just stuck her tongue out at him and set to work getting everything out of the cars.

"How are we going to get all of this crap overseas, anyway?" Draco went on, fixated on the idea of using more magical means to travel.

"The cargo hold," Willow said, grunting as she set a particularly heavy trunk on the ground. "What do you have in here, anyway?" she asked, frowning at Draco.

"You don't want to know, baby," Draco said, winking.

Willow looked at Harry, who shook his head. "You really don't," Harry said. "Now, Will, tell us exactly how we're going to systematically set up all of this junk so it doesn't kill us while we're driving to the airport."

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"What the hell is wrong with your radio, Weasley?" Draco groaned, still attempting to find a decent station. "Oh, wait, I just answered my question," he deadpanned. "It's your car."

Ron swatted at Draco's head, missing, of course. "Back off, you git," he snapped. "My car's just fine."

"So, why're we losin' Will and Hermione, then?" Draco retorted, resuming his search for "actual music."

"Because you won't quit bloody distracting me!" Ron barked. "Sit down, damnit!"

Draco was about to protest when Harry's hand clamped onto his shoulder and yanked him back onto the back seat. "Be quiet," Harry hissed. "I'd like to actually make it to America, you know?"

Draco crossed his arms and sulked in his seat, grumbling under his breath. Harry just smirked.

Draco noticed Harry's expression and scowled. "Don't think I'm doing this just because you told me to," he said. "I just don't want the Weasel to get us killed on the way to the airport."

"I know," Harry said, looking out the window at the rapidly passing scenery.

"Seriously. I'm my own man," Draco insisted. He glared murderously at the back of Ron's head when the redhead snorted loudly. He didn't say anything though, not wanting to drive Harry insane by fighting yet again. Everyone was already nervous enough about the prospect of going somewhere completely new and starting all over again. Also, they were finally past the harder part of their post war jitters. Draco was still slightly amazed that they'd all made it through the ordeal alive. That is, everyone that had planned to make the journey to the United States before the final battle took place. But Draco had still spent months making sure Harry ate, slept, showered, and so on afterward, because Harry had felt extremely guilty about the deaths of many of the witches and wizards who had fought alongside him, including Dumbledore. Draco couldn't really say he was altogether sad about the old headmaster's death. But he had hated seeing Harry depressed, and that was enough to make him truly miserable as well. Whatever. They were on their way to a new life, and they were leaving the bulk of the drama here in Europe.

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After roughly a half an hour of alternating static and bland, toneless talk shows, Harry finally leaned forward over the passenger's seat and turned the dial to the radio back and forth, searching for a station that actually played music. After several gospel and two country stations, Harry finally hit one that was about halfway through playing Jimmy Eat World's "Sweetness."

"Damnit!" Draco yelled, smacking the seat with his fist. "You see, Weasley? If you had just shut up and let me search for a damned station..."

"Shut up and listen to the rest of the song, Draco," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Remind me to bring plenty of Ibuprofen with me on car trips, plane rides, and so on from here on out."

"Got a headache, love?" Draco asked.

"No. I've got a migraine." Harry leaned let his head fall back on the seat behind him. "And there is a difference."

Draco grinned and reached out to wrap his arm around Harry, drawing him closer so that Harry's head rested on his shoulder. "Look what you did to Harry, Weasley," he said, his grin widening when Harry merely slumped in resignation.

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Draco, Harry, and Ron were far more relaxed about twenty minutes later after singing along at the top of their lungs to Collective Soul's "Counting The Days," and Puddle Of Mudd's "She Hates Me." Ron and Draco were even talking amicably about Quidditch, which always seemed to be a safe topic for them... unless they started discussing actual teams. Then things got a little... intense. But they were avoiding the topic of which Quidditch team was really the best while they were in the car. Partly because they were apprehensive about going to America, and partly because Harry probably would have hexed them.

"Hey, Hermione's pulling over," Harry said.

"Wonder why," Ron muttered, following suit. "You don't think something happened to the car, do you?" He pulled up behind Hermione, and a few seconds later, Dean parked behind Ron's car. "What's going on?" Ron asked, sticking his head out the window as Willow got out of the car and walked toward them.

"Hermione wants to know if you have the animal cookies," Willow said, giggling.

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed, muttering, "Bloody women."

Harry smacked Draco's head sharply. "Yeah. Here," he said, handing Willow the box of cookies.

"Now, let's get moving before we end up stuck in major traffic," Ron said impatiently.

"See you at the airport," Willow said, kissing Ron's forehead before getting back into Hermione's car. A few seconds later, Hermione started the engine again and returned to the road.

"It's about bloody time," Draco complained. "If we keep going on like this, we're not going to make it."

"Shut up," Harry and Ron said simultaneously. Draco groaned in frustration and leaned forward, changing the radio station again. He was about to skip past a particular station when Harry reached out and stopped him. "I like this song," he explained, sitting back down.

Draco nodded and sat down next to Harry, listening to the song. "Sounds like something from the eighties," he commented after a few seconds.

"Shut up," Ron and Harry repeated.

"What, you like it, too?" Draco asked Ron. Ron literally growled and clutched the steering wheel tightly, gnashing his teeth. Draco was about to continue to annoy Ron, but refrained from saying anything else when Harry started singing along.

"It's no good believing in somebody else if you can't believe in yourself

You give them the reason to take all the power and the wealth

It's no good, you trying to sit on the fence and hope that the trouble will pass

'Cause sitting on fences can make you a pain in the ass"

"Does it pick up eventually?" Draco asked, even though he found he was liking the song. Harry merely continued to sing along, and now Ron joined in as well, his voice slightly off key, providing a somewhat flat harmony.

"There's no conversation when nobody speaks; nothing gets done in the end

There's no confrontation when fantasy makes you its friend

So much in justice, too many lies; we don't have to look very far

And nothing will change if we leave things the way that they are"

Draco looked out through the window, straining his neck to see over a stack of suitcases. The song, oddly enough, was perfect for how he felt; they were all starting over, making changes, choosing to move on and live their lives the way they wanted to. Sure, they were all nervous, but they were excited, too. They were going to live after years of being repressed by the threat of war, and they were going to enjoy it. And Draco was going to be with Harry, and they were going to make each other blissfully miserable. Draco, knowing the words well enough now to sing along, opened his mouth and joined in loudly.

"If there's something you've found to believe in, then the message must get through

So don't just sit in silence when you know what to do"

Ron performed percussion on the steering wheel while the three of them bellowed the chorus, singing "Turn it up, make it louder" over and over again.

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Draco would be extremely happy if he never had to go through the ritual of getting on a damned plane ever again. They'd left for the airport hours before the flight was supposed to take off, but they'd still only had a few minutes to spare. And Ron had slowed everyone down even more by forgetting to take a collection of wizard money out of his pocket. Needless to say, the Muggles had been a bit curious about the unusual currency.

But now Draco and Harry were sitting together on the plane, and it was night, and the sky was dark, and rainclouds blocked the view below. Harry was asleep, leaning back in his seat, but Draco just couldn't seem to drift off. And this was extremely annoying because he was tired. Very tired. But something at the back of his mind was nagging at him, making sleep impossible. He tilted his head to the side, studying Harry's sleeping form intently.

Draco finally had Harry all to himself. Sure, they hadn't stopped seeing each other after school, but they'd been frequently separated because of the war. But now there was no Voldemort, no annoying family, no stupid "destiny" to get in the way, so they'd be together because it was all they really knew. Draco, Harry, and the rest of Harry's friends... they weren't going to just have fun and start over. They were really, for the first time, going to live their lives the way they saw fit.

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A/N: So there's the end of chapter twenty three, and if you didn't get it by now, it was pretty much in Draco's perspective. I didn't go into immense detail because, like I've said for a little while now, there's going to be a drawn out epilogue. Okay, there's one more chapter (I know I said this one would be the last one, but I sort of did what I always do and made a mistake. My nickname isn't "Whoops!" for nothing. Actually, I have two nicknames. The other name I go by... that is, besides my real name... is Snickerdoodle, simply because I like to cook. A lot. A lot as in, I really like to cook, and I do so often. Erhem.) which I'll post as soon as I can. Thank you, to those of you who reviewed frequently, for your effort! I generally give up on a story if I get bad or very few reviews because I feel it's not worth it. Hey, could you do me a favor and read my Angel/Spike fics? Just click on my author's name (er... that's Prose, in case you didn't know...) and check out all of my other stories. That is, if you want to. I just need the support.