"Well, that's over and done, then," Harry said cheerfully as he, Ron, and Hermione exited their final exam—Potions, as it happened. Former professor Horace Slughorn had proctored the exam and thus favored the trio to an almost embarrassing extent. Harry and Ron gloried in the advantage, while Hermione tried not to look pleased as Slughorn doled out his usual compliments on her Draught of Living Death.

"So it is," said Hermione with a hint of sadness in her voice. "Strange, isn't it? We'll never walk through here as students again."

"Strange and wonderful," Ron said. "I was just telling Oliver in my last letter—" He paused to blush and stammer before going on, "I feel like we've been here much longer than we have. Starting with trolls and chessboards, going on to Polyjuice Potion and basilisks, moving forward to sphinxes and Skrewts and eventually boundless Death Eaters in a legendary battle. We've come a long way, haven't we?"

"You've gotten almost suspiciously eloquent since you started corresponding with Oliver, Ron," Hermione observed.

Ron blushed ever deeper. "I could've always been this smart, you know," he muttered. "Maybe you were just too busy raising your hand in class to notice."

Hermione was about to protest when Draco swaggered forward and slid his hand into hers. "That's a fair point, I suppose," she said, turning to smile at Draco and brush a kiss across his cheek. Harry smiled, too, thinking of the former impossibility of this particular relationship. It had been only a week ago that Hermione was absolutely stuck on how to properly execute a charm and Draco was the only one who seemed to know what he was doing. Naturally attracted to oneupsmanship, Hermione nearly knocked him over with an enthusiastic kiss, and they'd been studying together ever since.

"Have you packed yet?" Hermione asked Draco then.

"Yeah. I just have to go back to my dorm and bring my stuff to Father's car."

"Have fun," offered Ron to Hermione and Draco, who were spending a month in the Isle of Wight, researching lethifolds in their natural habitat. It sounded horrifying to Harry, who'd never looked at his cloak in quite the same way after reading about the blanket-like terrors. But both Hermione and Draco seemed very excited about it, both the death blankets and the spending a month together, alone and abroad.

"We will." Hermione embraced Ron and Harry, and Draco lifted his hand in a wave as the two of them scampered down to the Slytherin dorms.

"It doesn't bother you, then?" Harry asked Ron.

"What?" Ron looked distracted as he hunted around the pockets of his robes, eventually finding a well-worn letter and opening it, smiling as he looked at its contents.

"Hermione and someone else."

"Oh. No. She seems happier now, doesn't she? Doesn't have to keep him in line like she did with me." Ron grinned crookedly. "Plus, I have someone else now. Did I tell you he bought me a plane ticket to California? A plane! How do they keep them up there without magic? How much eclectic energy do they need? How do the motors and windings and screws work?"

Harry laughed. "You sound like your dad, you know."

"I'm just excited. I leave today. And you're ... what? You're moving in with George, I know, but then what?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I think I'll just help out in the shop a while, see if he wants me there all the time. If not, I'll get a job at the ministry."

"Doing what?"

Harry shrugged and laughed again. "Dunno. It's nice to not have a destiny to play out anymore."

Ron nodded. "I bet. For me too, I guess. I know mine wasn't prophetic or whatever, but it seemed all laid out for me, Hermione and the ministry and having kids and never leaving. Instead, I'm going to America and living with a guy I really barely know." Ron paused and looked at Harry. "A bit weird we both turned out to be gay, isn't it?"

"That's how these stories work, Ron."

"Right." Ron clapped a hand on Harry's back and turned it into an awkward hug. "Good luck, mate. I'll see you for your birthday." With that, Ron rushed away toward Hogsmeade, where he was set to meet up with his father and get a lift to the airport.

Having left the bounds of the castle, Harry, feeling lazy, turned on his heel and apparated into George's bedroom, where all he could see of his boyfriend was a bright red head poking out from beneath a coverlet. Rather than waking him up gently, Harry bounded across the room and leapt onto the bed, kissing George till he woke up.

"Well, we're excited, aren't we?" George asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"By the feel of it, so are you," said Harry, wriggling his hips against George's.

"I just woke up. Of course I am." George winked. "Care to take advantage?"

"Well, Ron's going to California and Hermione's going to the Isle of Wight and I'm all done with my NEWTs. So I suppose it is a time for celebration, isn't it?" Harry pitched forward and lay down on top of George, kissing him deeply.

"I think so," said George, putting his arms around Harry. "And what means of celebration did you mean to go by?"

"These means. Or this mean. Or I don't know," said Harry, reaching down and making George gasp in the process.

"Those are good means to me," George said.

Several minutes later, the two of them lay next to each other, staring at the ceiling and occasionally each other with wide, goofy smiles and sickeningly moony eyes. "Being this happy is disgusting," said George, sounding content. "Think all the dead people are happy, too?"

"Strange question in the afterglow," Harry said. "But yeah. When I was surrounded by all the dead people I love the most before Voldemort killed me and I came back to life and killed him—"

"How'd that work again? I still don't quite get that chapter of your life."

"—None of them seemed to upset to be dead. My dad and Sirius looked downright cheerful. And my mum and Remus were just really serene, I guess."

"I bet Freddy is too."

"I bet."

"But seriously, how did—"

"Look, I don't know how all that shit worked," said Harry. "Can we just shag again? I'm bored of stories, talking about my friends and me and everything we did and how powerful we are. I'd rather write a story of my own. A story with you where we're just happy and together and don't have to fight back any more evil than belligerent customers and the occasional firewhiskey hangover."

"That's beautiful, Harry."

"Thanks."

"I'm writing all of this down."

"Oh, shut it, you git," said Harry before kissing him again, and again, and again.