A/N: Chapter Fifty-Six! Last one.

[UPDATE]: Check out my YouTube channel for the official RS:P trailer!

The morning after, I met with Shen for breakfast and purchased some pain reliever potion to help with his hangover. I also managed to convince him to return to London with me later in the day, in order to visit Nott's final resting place and also to attend Ron and Daphne's wedding. It appeared he'd been avoiding the situation for the past four months, as well as his friends Corvus and Sinead. I understood his disposition, but I also understood how important it was for him to come home and also, to face his fears.

That said, we enjoyed our breakfast and sat in silence — for the most part. I felt him shoot quick looks at me every now and then, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Okay," I voiced, dabbing my lips with the napkin, fixing my attention on him. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Shen paused, forcing down his mouth full of food. "Er — what do you mean?"

"Don't play me for a fool, Chang. Spit it out."

His face blanched. "I…I…"

"Go on," I furthered, a little more delicate this time around.

"I didn't…I didn't do anything…last night…" he started, darting his eyes to the table and then to me, fast as light. "…did I?"

It took me a moment to understand what he was trying to ask, and when I did, I couldn't help it. I clapped a hand over my mouth and chortled with laughter.

Shen gaped at me.

"Sorry, sorry…" I teased, earning several looks from passersby. "Nothing happened. I can assure you."

A wave of relief passed through him, as though that were all he had been thinking about since I met with him in the lobby of his hotel. "Good," he vocalized, combing through his fringe with one hand, whilst downing a full glass of water with the other. "It was just a dream then."

Er.

Well, then.

Two Days Later

Does anyone remember that scene from Titanic, when Rose descends the grand staircase and finds Jack Dawson waiting for her at the bottom? She's dressed in this exquisite hand-beaded evening gown, with her lips painted red and her hair pinned up, falling down her neck in spirals. It's this defining moment in the film. Jack turns and with the look in his eyes, as he watches her, it's clear. It's though, in the space of that one moment, there was nothing he could see or feel apart from Rose and the way his heart had been palpitating since they first met.

I want you to keep that scene in mind.

For now, let's move on to what happened a couple days after I returned to London — on the night of the wedding.

There was music in the background, strumming a beautiful, acoustic tune, as Daphne made her way down the aisle, to the altar, where she and Ron exchanged their vows and sealed the ceremony with a slow, sensual kiss. It was perhaps the most beautiful, honest exchange I had seen since Harry and Ginny's wedding, and in that moment, one thing was clear to me. I wanted that. I wanted that so, so much that I couldn't breathe without catching that familiar scent of sandalwood, dark chocolate and black currant.

Later, came the reception.

I overlooked the swaying couples, having done my duty as a bridesmaid, and took careful, moderate sips of champagne, with no intention of repeating the incident at Harry and Ginny's wedding.

Charlie was an absolute gentleman, and maintained an appropriate amount of distance between us when we walked down the aisle and as we danced. It wasn't near as awkward as I'd imagined. In part, because we were a little older and a little bit more mature, and in part because he was in a relationship. Her name was Rosa and he met her whilst doing work in Guatemala. She wasn't at the wedding, but from what he told me about her, she seemed like a charming, kindhearted person.

Perfect for him.

"Surreal, isn't it?" someone voiced, close by.

Through the corner of my eye, his presence was known to me. I sensed him, even before those first words left his lips. Tall, dressed to the nines and overlooking the dance floor with the same sentiment, was Ron.

I turned, slowly.

There were countless ways I could have interpreted his words — but the meaning was as clear to me as the cloudless skies above us. I responded with nothing but a nod, drinking from my champagne flute as he drank from his. The wedding itself was an elegant, romantic affair, with more guests than I had ever seen. I was sure most of them were friends and relatives from Daphne's side, as the only people Ron knew were his immediate family and his former classmates. All of whom amounted to about twenty-five people. That in mind, I laughed a little.

He laughed, too. "If you told me ten years ago that this would happen…that I would one day marry Daphne Greengrass…I don't know…"

I returned his smiles, clinking glasses with him. "You are one lucky boy, Ronald Weasley."

"Bloody right," he agreed, solid in his wording, but distant all the same. " — and so is Malfoy."

It happened quickly then, that wave of familiarity. I took another drink from my champagne, aware of the slow, but steady undercurrents.

Ron looked on, with Norah Jones' smooth, forgiving vocals there to accent the peace behind those bright blue eyes. No further words were exchanged, but after years of knowing him, words weren't necessary. I knew, without so much as a look, that we were thinking the same thing.

In another life.

Perhaps.

One Hour Later

It wasn't long after the older guests cleared out, that the real party started.

I danced centre stage with the girls — Astoria, Ginny and Daphne — to our favourite songs. Blaise and his team were charge of the music, playing various tracks ranging from classic rock to R&B. The exact moment Queen came on, was the moment I lost my shit. The girls cheered me on, clapping and dancing around me as I belted out "We Are The Champions" at the top of my lungs.

Around that time, was the time Harry and Ron joined in, and together we stood with our arms around one another, swaying and singing with smiles and laughter all around. It was an incredible moment, and for a fleeting second, the three of us were transported back to our younger years, sneaking about the corridors after hours and bending the rules at whim. Merlin, what I would have done for the chance to travel back in time and relive those days.

The years flew on by before we had the chance to stop them.

It was no longer about Harry or Ron or myself. It was about Ron's new marriage, and Harry's son James, as well as his to-be son Albus, who was about one month away from drawing his first breath. Everyone in our group of friends had taken an enormous leap forward, embracing their respective futures with open arms and full hearts.

I longed to do the same.

I longed to see what my future had in store.

That in mind, I wheeled one look around the venue, skimming over many familiar faces before landing on one that I'd been waiting to see all night — for the past three months, really. It hit me all at once. The rise and the fall, and the slow but steady force that drew me towards him. Our eyes met in the same way they did in that dress shop five years ago, and like that, I exhaled, taking him in from head to toe, as he neared me.

Did I mention I'd been away three months? I did? Okay, well, I'll say it again. Three months without him. Three months without that touch, that voice, and that passion. It was all I could do to remain where I was, breathing in and out, looking at him as he looked back at me.

I should explain that I was single for those three months. Meaning, I could have done whatever I wanted with whomever I desired — and although I had been tempted here and there, I knew, from the beginning, that I only desired one thing from one person.

Just like that, there was a shift in the atmosphere.

It went from light and harmonic, to heated and intense, in rhythm with the vibrations that traveled through me. The others had to have noticed, but none of them dared approach me. I was left in the middle of the dance floor, waiting for him with his emerald silks draped over me and with my hair gathered softly to the side. There was a slight breeze, one that tickled my skin and left me on the cusp of another long, drawn out breath, until finally…

"Draco —" I whispered, sucking in his rich, exquisite scent, in harmony with the song in the background.

It was an R&B track that I recognized but couldn't place. I couldn't focus. I could only sink deeper into him and exhale, as though for the first time.

With his arms around my waist and mine along his neck and shoulders, we danced. It was more of a sway than anything else, in no apparent position other than one that left no distance between us. I could hear a blend of whispers from the onlookers, reminiscent of the dance we shared at Harry and Ginny's wedding, but this time was different, in that there was no denial.

Remember the scene I described earlier?

Being there with him was similar to that…but better.

"Nice tattoo," he smiled, a touch of surprise in his eyes.

For a moment, I blanched. "Yeah?"

He nodded, bringing my left wrist to his lips and brushing the marked skin. It was a small tattoo, the size of a silver sickle, white, no outline, in the shape of a snowflake. I had it done in Hong Kong, the night I went out with Shen (sober, mind you) and although it was damn near the most painful thing I'd ever willingly endured, it was also worth every second.

"It's beautiful," Draco whispered. "It really is."

Hearing that from him made me smile.

From there, our dance slowed, and again, we were caught in uncharted territory, where any number of things could have happened. It was all down to one detail, to the only thing I had always wanted to tell him but never could.

I leaned into him the moment he leaned into me, and without the slightest hesitation, the words left my lips, skimming his ear along the way.

For one, maybe two seconds, his muscles tensed all around me, as though he couldn't believe what I had told him. "You do?" he asked, an innocence about him that did not go unnoticed.

"So much," I murmured, shivering against him, swaying with him, fading into him, just about ready to leave the reception, when suddenly it happened.

He spun me — soft but hard — turning me so my back was pressed to his front, catching me as I gasped. It was a precarious position — but I didn't mind. My eyes fluttered shut and I moved with him, feeling his hands on my hips and my waist, where the heat from his fingertips traveled through the silk of my dress, causing the colour along my cheeks and neck to deepen.

"Ready?" he asked, igniting that fire…that slow, titillating burn.

In his arms, I faded. "Yes."

The End

A/N: Pshh. Told you not to worry about the dramione tag haha.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading this story all the way through. I know it hasn't been easy and that I've dragged certain characters through the mud (again and again) but it's over now, and I hope you enjoyed reading this, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks, again.

Soundtrack:

"There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" The Smiths

"You Take My Breath Away" Queen

"Lay It Down" The Rubens

"Edge of Seventeen" Stevie Nicks

"Recover" CHVRCHES

"Shake It Out" Florence + the Machine (Benny Benassi Remix Edit)

"Feenin" Lyrica Anderson (Acoustic Version)

"Phenomena" Yeah Yeah Yeahs

"Lullaby" The Cure

Cheers

xo.

(bonus points to anyone who can match songs to characters/couples)