Help had arrived. Charlie had gone for Pansy as soon at it was safe. She had already cleared Hogsmeade and was working on Diagon Alley. She was needed there, but Molly rounded up as many volunteers as she could and took them all to Riddle Manor, allowing her son to stay with his fiancé.

Together, Draco and Ginevra brought order back to the battle field. They pulled together the relatively unwounded. She began to cast enough charms on those beyond her care to keep them alive until they could be transported to the hospital, giving orders to those with enough skill to cure the relatively minor wounds while he orchestrated efforts to move those she designated to St. Mungo's. As soon as Molly had seen her daughter and sons were well enough to handle the situation she breathed a sigh of relief and went to the hospital to help organize the incoming casualties and notify families of the living and the lost.

Siren was finally free from searching for more survivors and moved to help Ginevra with triage. Draco had set up an efficient enough system that he was able to stand back and observe, only stepping in here and there. Mostly, though, he was watching Ginevra. She still looked so weak but no matter how much he wanted to, whether she would let him or not, he knew he couldn't take her away from what she was doing. She was needed.

Before anyone knew what was happening Pansy had arrived with Charlie and they were ushering Draco and Ginevra to the hospital for their own treatment.

They had once had fifty members. After the final battle, the Order of the Phoenix had less than half of that. Some had wondered at the shear number of death eaters, but most just shook their head sadly and mumbled something about fearing as much.

Even after proper treatment and everything the best at St. Mungo's could do, Ginevra would walk with a limp for the rest of her life and had a limited range of motion with her left arm. It seemed that some tendons had been torn beyond repair in her hip and shoulder. Draco had a scar running the length of his left bicep, running from his shoulder in the front to just above his elbow on the back. Theodore was blind in one eye. Charlie lost half of an ear. Snape's knee was entirely destroyed and would never bend again. No one would ever mistake the twins again. Fred had a scar running down one cheek and George had one deep into his right hand, forcing him to learn how to write with his left. Siren had what appeared to be a large X on her cheek.

More than one veteran had lost a limb and three had endured comas of various lengths. Not one who had fought in the battle escaped without some type of scar to remind them of that day. Harry's scar had been extended to cross his left eye. Ron had a scar running up his right calf. Hermione had one on her left side, just under her ribs.

Someone had been kind enough to arrange for Draco and Ginevra to share a room. Neither one of them felt the fatigue of battle yet and wanted to receive full reports from every corner as they came in. At last, when they had a full picture of everything that had happened and managed to figure out what had gone wrong, Theodore and Charlie managed to convince them both to take sleeping draughts, having slept already themselves.

The ministry had been kind enough to issue an edict that no press would be allowed near any of the veterans until they, the ministry, had received a full report from the surviving members of the triad. Moreover, they had mercifully agreed to wait until Draco and Ginevra were ready to report rather than demand that they do so immediately.

When Draco awoke, Ginevra was still soundly asleep. He watched her breath evenly and peacefully. When she opened her eyes and looked over at him sleepily he smiled. "It's over." His voice was barely a whisper. She returned his smile and sat up tentatively.

She tried to stretch but found her left arm would barely raise above her head and she could not move it behind her body from the shoulder at all. She shrugged at the curiosity and Draco laughed. She hopped off her bed and he sat up. She was only wearing a thin night gown and all he had on was a pair of white pajama pants.

Limping over to him she looked at his arm. Tracing his scar with her fingers she looked up at him. "Does it hurt?"

His looked down into her eyes. "No. Does your hip? Or your shoulder?"

She shook her head. He smiled slightly again and started to lean down.

Theodore knocked and entered without waiting for a reply. "Well I did knock." He chuckled at Draco's frustrated expression.

Draco growled. "I assume the press is congregating downtairs?"

Theodore rose an eyebrow at the question and Ginevra's eyes widened. When Theodore nodded Ginevra spoke. "I'm getting dressed…"

"No, you are not." Draco jumped off his bed, grabbed a robe and wrapped it around her, scooped her up in his arms, and headed out the door, not caring that he was still shirtless. "I have tried to do this three times and have been interrupted three times. I have waited long enough."

"You know, I can walk," but she wrapped her arms around his neck, in contrast to her statement. "And I'm not sure I understand the whole press thing."

He smirked evilly. "You cannot walk fast enough, no offense," she grinned, "and as for the press, well, if I can't have a private moment with you without interruption I will have a public moment with you." She laughed.

When he got to the doors of the front lobby he called, "Oi! Longbottom, open the doors!" Neville ran to do as he was told with a very confused expression on his face. He looked back at Theodore who was almost doubled over with silent laughter, having walked behind Draco the whole way down, but somehow managed to shake his head.

There, in the lobby of the hospital, before all the press of the wizarding world, Draco set Ginevra before him, held her face in one hand and her side with the other, and kissed her deeply. For the rest of his life Draco cherished the picture that appeared on the front page of the Daily Prophet the next morning.