...Big Breath... I present to you, the last chapter followed by the epilogue. This has been awesome. I thank each and every person who has read this and all the reviewers who have said some of the nicest things to me.

This story turned out to be quite a lot longer than I originally thought it would be. I guess things are longer on paper.

I had planned on giving individual thanks to my wonderful reviewers, but looking back on all the people... good God. I only hope that me posting not one but TWO more "chapters" of the story will make up for that. I also hope no body kills me for ending this story the way it ends. ...foreshadowing...

And now I'm in tears damnit. Read and reply.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, just the plot.

Chapter Nineteen

It is said that once you have reached the edge of death, you become delirious. Your life flashes before your eyes and visions that aren't there can be seen. Some say that the thing of which your heart most desires hovers above you, kind of like a sneak peak to what heaven may be. Thus, when Draco heard her voice and saw her face, he figured it was just his mind giving him what people had said. But when he felt her touch, he knew he was still alive. And for the first time… he was grateful.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She say bent over him, thinking of plausible ideas. She had no wand, no potions, no means to help him. So she did what she could think of… she talked.

"Draco," she whispered softly, running her fingers through his now blood matted hair. "Draco, please talk to me," she whispered again. His eyes finally came into focus as he looked at her.

"Sa… sa…" his breathing was failing him. His heart was beating slower and slower. Taking a relaxing, deep, breath, he calmed himself down and tried to form words.

"Said… no…" he heaved. Hermione smiled sweetly and grabbed his hand. He gave a little squeeze that caused her eyes to tear up.

"You did it," she said, her breaths becoming shorter and her words more laborious. "I'm so proud of you." Draco smiled. He was in pain. It was heart wrenching to watch.

"Love… you…" he sighed. A tear streamed down Hermione's face. She cupped his hand in her face and kisses his palm.

"Please don't die…" she sobbed into his hand.

Isn't it rich?

Aren't we a pair?

Me here at last on the ground,

And you in mid-air?

Send in the clowns.

The slow tune drilled her brain. Funny how it first came to her that dreadful night he had shunned her to the fullest. He had left her then, and he was leaving her now. It seemed to make sense to her, a horrible sense she wished she didn't get to relive.

Isn't it bliss?

Don't you approve?

One always tearing around,

And one who can't move…

But where are the clowns?

Send in the clowns.

He looked so pitiful. Hermione could feel him slipping away. She could feel the coldness seeping into his body, invading him and pressuring the heat out. More tears were unleashed.

"No!" she wailed. "I won't let you… you promised! You fucking promised!" Draco tried so hard not to cry. It would deplete him of the last bit of energy he had. So words cried out for him. His words were the tears that leaked from his eyes.

"So… sorry…" he breathed in sharply. His eyes suddenly flashed in panic. "Coming!" he hissed. Hermione looked at him frantically. She didn't understand.

Footsteps.

Voices.

She could hear them through the dungeon door. Who ever it was, he must have been only about half way down the corridor outside. The footsteps were lazy and calm, like he was in no hurry to go anywhere. She gasped. No one knew she was there. If they saw her they would kill her.

"Draco, we have to move," she said urgently. Draco just stared at her, still smiling. He gently shook his head no. Hermione scrambled around, trying to get a good grip of him. She struggled to move his body. He was nothing more than dead weight by now. "Draco, please help me," she bit out. "I can't… move you…" She spoke with tears with each tug. The agony of defeat ridiculed her again and again as she couldn't lift his body and inch.

Send in the clowns…

Draco couldn't feel any of the pain anymore. His body had gone numb, so her trials and errors at moving him had no effect on his pain spectrum. He sighed.

"Stop," he said softly. Hermione collapsed next to him in a full on weep fest. She laid herself next to his body and buried herself in his broken torso.

The voices were getting closer, the footsteps louder.

Draco was going to die. She was going to die.

She was going to die.

Hermione stopped crying.

She was going to die.

It clicked. Gaining back her breath, she looked up at Draco. He was still smiling.

He would be keeping his promise after all…

They must have only been about ten feet away. Hermione lifted herself up to be laying at Draco's level. She trailed her fingers delicately down his face, making a mental map of every feature on his face, minus the deformalities.

"I love you Draco Malfoy," she whispered in his ear and kissed the side of his face. Draco's eyes fluttered, letting lose one tear; no more, no less. His eyes closed permanently as he drifted off to a never waking slumber. Yet before he went, Hermione heard the tiniest of whispers escape his lips.

"I love you Hermione Granger."

He was gone.

Hermione's eyes stayed focused on his peaceful face. There was no pain, no suffering. The usual stress wrinkles that could be found on his forehead were erased. He looked like he was sleeping and dreaming the most wonderful dream in his life. But he wasn't alive…

The door to the dungeon clicked before opening.

Silence… and then…

Chaos…

Shouts of interrogations were thrown around the room. The two men scurried about yelling at each other. One pulled out his wand. He said something. Hermione noticed none of it. A slow smile spread across her lips as a poem lingered through her head.

It was a poem she had read many times before. It was a poem she had been reading when Draco had found her. It wasn't a happy poem, in fact it was so depressing Hermione had usually cut herself after reading it. So why was she thinking about it? Well, she wasn't thinking over the whole poem, just the last four lines.

"Good-bye," she whispered silently to no one in particular. The one it was meant for was laying next to her dead.

"Avada Kedavra!"

And she was gone…

Mary Palmer don't you cry

You have no tears to shed.

Mary Palmer now you're free!

You can't feel when you're dead…