A/N: Final chapter! Thank you for all your kind words so far. I hope this is the ending you were waiting for :)

CHAPTER XII

When Hermione came to consciousness, the first thing she realised was that she was in pain. Not a lot, but a dull sort of throb, deep inside and just behind her rib cage.

The next thing she realised, a moment or two later, was that she could hear the ocean in the distance and seabirds circling somewhere high above.

No.

Her eyes snapped open, but instead of bookshelves and sunlight and sloping ceilings, she saw low crooked beams and colourful shells pressed in patterns into plaster.

Shell Cottage. She was in Shell Cottage.

The relief was immediate and immense. She slumped back against the sheets, releasing a long breath—then winced as the movement sent pain rocketing right through her chest. Like stitch, only a hundred times worse.

"Holy…" She sucked in a breath, a stream of expletives hurtling through her mind. But then she laughed, blinking through watery eyes at the ceiling above.

Because it was over. It was really and truly over.

The sound of soft breathing caught her attention, and she turned her head to find Draco slumped in a chair beside the window, eyes closed and cheek resting on his palm. His other arm, the one Bellatrix had injured, was tucked securely against his chest in a sling, not a single drop of blood in sight.

She rested her head back against the pillow and savoured a moment of pure and unfettered happiness.

She had done it. The day was over, and Draco was safe.

Another laugh rippled inside her. It had only taken twenty-six attempts and a curse to the chest.

There were dark circles beneath his eyes, lashes resting peacefully on his cheek. Through the net curtains behind him, she could see the sky was clear blue, with the barest smattering of fluffy white clouds. Not the usual time for sleep, which made her wonder how long he'd been sat there, how long he'd held vigil.

For her.

Warmth puddled in her chest, and she pushed herself up a little higher on the pillows, hoping to find a more comfortable position while she waited for him to wake. But as she wriggled, a certain something resting on the sideboard at the far end of the room snagged her eye and made her still.

Enekpe's clock. Whole and undamaged, the goddess standing tall and proud and graceful as the water swirled all about her.

Hermione expected to feel a surge of anger for all it had put her through—for trapping her alone, for forcing her to watch her friends die over and over, for pushing her to the brink of madness—but all she felt was peace.

They were alive. All of them. And she never had to wake up on that damn library floor again.

"Ndidi wanted you to have it," Draco said, voice rough with sleep and making her start. "She figured you'd find somewhere safe for it."

She'd certainly gotten that right. Hermione would chain the thing to the bottom of the bloody ocean if it meant no one else had to go through what she had.

She leant her head back against the pillows, enjoying the sight of him by the window, hair tousled and eyes bleary.

"You're awake," she said.

"So are you." He cocked his head, concern on his face. "How do you feel?"

"Okay I think," she said, pulling the blankets up towards her chest, then wincing as the movement sent the sharpest of pains lancing right though her. She gasped, breathless, and Malfoy was at her side in an instant.

"Does it hurt?"

She nodded, in too much pain to speak, and he grabbed a potion from the bedside table.

"Here," he said, pouring out a shot of thick sludgy looking liquid. "Drink this."

She did so and, despite the fact it felt like drinking frogspawn, was pleased to find it worked almost instantly. She relaxed into the cushions and pressed a hand to her chest. It felt almost like there should be a physical wound there, a hole right down to her heart, but her skin was unblemished with not even a hint of hard scar tissue.

"What happened?" she asked.

Draco appeared relieved to see her face clear and dragged the chair up to the edge of her bed.

"You," he said, giving her a stern look as he sat, "threw yourself in between me and a deadly curse."

She remembered that, of course. Well, the pain of it, slicing through her chest like a blade. After that, she'd hit the ground, hard enough to send sparks dancing before her eyes. Then it was mostly a blur: a cacophony of spells, a thud, frantic voices, then Draco, always Draco.

His warm hands on her face. His silver eyes swimming in her vision. His voice, low and soothing, then pleading as she'd drifted into blackness.

"You worried the hell out of me," he said sharply. "I'd shake you if it weren't for the punctured lung."

That drew her back to the present with a bump.

"Punctured lung?" she echoed, startled.

"Yes." A shadow passed across his face. "Whatever the hell that spell was, it was Dark. We thought…" He looked down and swallowed. "Well, for a while, we weren't sure you'd make it."

It was a frightening thought, that she had come so close to never waking up again. But not enough to make her regret it.

"How long's a while?" she asked quietly.

"A day or two until we knew for sure." He'd said it casually enough, but there was a tenseness to his jaw that made her wonder how he'd felt those two days where she'd been touch-and-go. Whether he'd felt anything close to anguish she had when she'd watched him die over and over... She wouldn't wish such pain on anyone, of course, but there was a part of her, a small part, that hoped.

"You were lucky," he went on. "We got you to Angelina almost straight away."

"And the others?"

"All fine. No other injuries aside from a few scrapes and bruises."

That wasn't quite true though, was it? Her eyes landed on his bandaged shoulder.

"It's fine," he said, noting the direction of her gaze. "I told you. It was just a graze."

The memory of the first time he'd told her that, just a moment before Bellatrix struck with a curse that nearly ended her life, made Hermione's stomach churn.

"Did you—did Bellatrix…"

"She's still alive. We Stupified her." His mouth set in a hard line. "I… I almost cast a different spell at her."

The deadly look in his eye sent a thrill right up her spine, but Hermione was glad he hadn't killed his aunt. She remembered how haunted he'd looked, back in the library, as Bellatrix had taunted him about his mother, about his decision to leave. His past plagued him enough. He didn't need her death on his hands as well.

"Good," she said. "Maybe Remus will get something useful out of her."

"Maybe," he replied, although both of them knew it was a long shot.

Still, Hermione remembered with a sudden surge of hope, they had Ndidi and her research on Horcruxes. The war may still be raging, but thanks to Enekpe and her clock, the Order was still very much alive, a number of influential Death Eaters were not, and they had a very real chance of finding and destroying every last one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Her gaze drifted towards said clock, sat benignly on the sideboard. Maybe that was its intention all along: not to save any individual life, but to save the future.

Hermione was just glad she was the only one who'd had to sacrifice to accomplish it.

Evidently, what she was thinking was written very clearly across her face, because Draco narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't look so bloody pleased with yourself," he said severely. "It was a silly thing to do jumping in front of me like that. You had no idea what the curse would do to you."

"I didn't really care," she said blithely and enjoyed the way he scowled. "You saved my life too many times to count. And don't," she added when he opened his mouth, "say it wasn't you, because it was. And I know you'd have done the same this time round if I hadn't made you promise."

"Maybe I should have made you promise," he muttered grumpily, but his eyes were warm and crinkling a little at the corners, and she knew he wasn't really angry with her—just worried.

It made her love him all the more.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching for his free hand. "But you know I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"I do know." He slanted her a flat look even as his fingers laced in hers. "Blasted Gryffindors."

The same, of course, could be said for a certain blasted Slytherin. She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

"Just returning the favour," she said, and he huffed out a laugh.

"Right. Just please, Merlin, don't do it twenty times. I'm not sure my heart can handle it."

She smiled, a little poignantly, because hers had had to handle it, and she knew she'd never forget the image of Draco crashing back into the shelves, never forget that blaze of green light. Not for as long as she lived.

But looking at him now, tired-eyed, arm in a sling, but alive—alive and sat vigil at her bedside, open affection in his eyes…

Well, it made it all worth it, didn't it?

"Your heart, huh?" she asked, and he gave her hand a squeeze.

"Did I say heart?" he said innocently. "I meant nerves." When she huffed and tugged her hand away, he just chuckled and snatched it right back. "So," he said with a look that sent shivers down her spine. "I'm curious. How many times did I launch myself in front of a Killing Curse before I finally got my act together and kissed you?"

"You didn't," she said, and he blinked.

"But I thought—"

"We kissed? We did. Only I kissed you."

His eyes were suddenly all sorts of hot.

"Oh?"

"Twice."

He edged a little closer.

"It was pretty good," she added as nonchalantly as she could while admiring the long lean slope of his shoulder, the way his jumper pulled taut across the hard plane of his chest, the blond hairs on his forearms that caught in the light.

"Was it?" he asked hoarsely.

"It was." His eyes were on her mouth, intent utterly transparent, and it was doing delicious things to her insides. "It's a shame you don't remember."

"A great shame," he agreed in a husky voice.

"Maybe," she said, cocking her head a little, "I should remind you."

"Merlin, Hermione, remind me," he said with a groan, and then he leant in and kissed her.

This kiss was softer, slower, than that first desperate snog in the hallway. He held her face in his free hand, taking his time as he gently discovered her lips.

Or rediscovered, as the case was for Hermione. Impatient, she pressed closer, sheets twisting about her legs, and she sighed as he slipped his hand down her hip, warm and solid through the thin blankets.

It felt… it felt right. Like this was where she was supposed to be.

"So," he said softly as he withdrew, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "Everyone else has gone into hiding. Fancy sticking with me a little while longer?"

A thrill ran through her, but she couldn't resist a playful quirk of her brow.

"We do have research to finish…"

He gave her a look hot enough to melt metal.

"I'm not talking about research."

"A Dark Lord to defeat…"

"I'm not talking about him either."

She pursed her lips.

"I'll consider it," she said, although of course she already knew the answer, and he kissed her again.

"Tease," he murmured, and she flung her arms around his neck with a laugh.

"Of course I'll stay with you. And not just so you can be my research assistant."

"Assistant?" he asked, indignant, and she laughed again.

But then her eye caught on the clock, sat where Ndidi had left it, on the cupboard at the end of the room.

And something was different.

The goddess still stood, regal, inside the spiral of water, the children playing at her feet. But her face, always so sombre, so pensive. Hermione could have sworn…

"What's wrong?" Draco turned to follow her gaze.

She squinted at the clock. It looked—well, it looked as if… No. She was being ridiculous. Whatever she'd seen must have been a trick of light.

"Hermione?" Draco slid his hand up her leg. "Are you okay?"

Concern laced his voice, so she shook herself out of it and smiled at him.

"I'm fine," she said and kissed him, bidding herself to forget it.

The kiss escalated quickly, and soon she was panting, gasping, as his hand ran all over her.

But still, as the kiss grew hotter, harder, as she tugged him up over her and onto the bed, as he muttered darkly about his damn sling getting in the way, and his mouth found that spot on her throat where her pulse thrummed like a wild thing, she couldn't help a quick and suspicious glance over his shoulder.

Because she could have sworn Enekpe had been smiling at them.

...

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. Please do drop me a final review - it's lovely to hear your thoughts.

What's next?

This week I'm polishing up my entry to the DramioneLove Mini Fest 2017 over on LiveJournal. Posting starts on 15 May so I'll be able to upload my piece here once that's over. Definitely come over and join us if you get the chance. You don't need an account to view the entries, and there are sure to be some amazing ones! (edit: my story is done, posted right here and ready to read! It's called Gimble's Army)

I've also got the first few chapters written for a new multi-chapter story, provisionally called 'Blinded'. In it, a curse causes Auror Draco to temporarily lose his sight. He of course can't deal with being coddled so hires/bribes no-nonsense Hermione to help him out. Trouble is someone is most definitely trying to kill him, and her too if she gets in the way. I'm currently working through some plot kinks before posting, but hopefully it'll start going up shortly.