Disclaimer: I do not own any of Ms. Rowling's wonderful creations. Nor do I own any of the various songs that may be presented throughout the length of this fanfiction. The various songs will be named at the end of the fic, as well as in the chapter within which they lie.

A big thanks and a shout out to all of my reviewers! Thank you so much!

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, and thank you for following this story, even though it was rather choppy…especially with the writer's block that struck me so badly right after Christmas. My more loyal fans, I must truly say that I love you. Those of you who continued to press for the finale of this story were the ones who helped me to break through my writer's block and do so.

I have tried, with Pen Pal, to truly capture the actual depth of Voldemort's evilness, as well as Hermione's loyalty. I don't mind stories in which one or the other changes sides "magically," however I find them rather lacking in actual truth. Real life is not a fairy tale, unfortunately, and neither are my fics. Hermione would not give up seven years of friendship for Voldemort, because she is Muggleborn and because her sense of both honor and justice are much more intense than to allow her such a luxury.

Similarly, Voldemort is too entrenched in the dark arts to ever truly turn himself around. Logically, it just wasn't plausible in the least. In his mind, he is superior in every way, and forcing him to face inferiority by expecting him to adhere to certain principles and laws would be a butchery of the character of Voldemort. He would cease to be Voldemort and his story would simply become another fairy tale like the Frog Prince or Rapunzel. He might love Hermione and want to make her his Dark Queen…but that would not change the fact that he dreams of ruling the world and everyone in it.

And now, to bore you no further with my idiotic spoutings, I give you the ending of Pen Pal.

Yours,

Allison

Epilogue

(Author's Note: I know this seems a little confusing, so I'm going to indicate in this key whose voice you're imagining when, rather than putting it in narrative format. It's something I'm playing around with. Italics Hermione's Voice, as if from a recording, Bold Harry's Voice, also recorded, Underlined Draco's Recorded Voice

Including my beloved, Voldemort, the ending death count of the war numbered over three hundred thousand.

Random attacks from the dark forces would continue for years, during which Pansy Parkinson-Weasley and her husband Ronald would be murdered for betraying the dark.

Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange both perished in that final true battle, when their Dark Lord fell. Each died at the other's wand.

Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick...

For months after the death of Voldemort, Hermione disappeared. She reappeared six months later, pregnant.

Fenrir Greyback's corpse was found, blackened by some sort of flame, twisted in combat with Remus Lupin. It was later learned that Lupin doused the werewolf- who refused to take Granger's cure- in molten silver.

Arthur Weasley, Alastor Moody, Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black...

Though she never told us, as she suffered through that intense and terrible pregnancy, we all knew who had fathered the child.

Percy Weasley fought like a madman at the death of his beloved Penelope. When he died, he took no fewer than fifteen deatheaters with him.

Cedric Diggory, Blaise Zabini, Parvati Patil, Ronald Weasley...

By her seventh month, Madame Pomfrey put Hermione on emergency bedrest.

Crabbe Jr and Goyle Jr were found next to the bodies of their fathers. Their fathers had used them as human shields to continue fighting.

Pansy Parkinson, Dean Thomas, Nymphadora Tonks, Seamus Finnigan...

Hermione went into labor on Christmas Eve. She would remain in labor for five full days.

Thanks to some extensive research done by both myself and Hermione, the dementors of Azkaban were defeated with a complex new offensive potion transfiguration. Throw the potion, it explodes and transfigures thanks to the spell, and boom. The dementors turned into kittens. Literally. Hermione's idea.

Percy Weasley, Penelope Weasley, Fleur Weasley, Gabrielle Delacour...

The birthing process was not pleasant to say the least. Hermione had lost so much strength in her prolonged labor that she couldn't find any last refuges to push her child into the world.

The giants turned on each other in the middle of the battle. Tribes which had somehow managed a temporary alliance under the dark lord's promise of glory fell upon each other savagely.

Viktor Krum, Rita Skeeter, Mundungus Fletcher, Charlie Weasley...

Madame Pomfrey had to do an emergency cesarian section. The child was, luckily, alive.

They found Charlie Weasley burnt to a crisp, roasted by one of his own dragons.

Madame Malkins, Igor Kakaroff, Sybill Trelawney, Rubeus Hagrid...

Hermione lived only long enough to ask Draco and I not to allow history to repeat. She also named her child. Thomas after his father. Richard after his grandfather.

Hagrid and his wretched Hippogriff, Buckbeak...or Witherwings...were found together, as they had fallen.

Hermione Granger...

Hermione Granger...

Hermione Granger...

Draco and I took in young Tom and showed him all of the love and affection that neither of us had received, growing up.

Ginny Weasley married Lavender Brown, and they adopted three young children...all of whom are final battle orphans.

Tom meets their youngest child, Melissa, every weekend for a play date.

There's an ongoing bet to see whether our adopted son ends up in Slytherin, like his father...

Or Gryffindor, like his mother truly was...

Even when it meant killing her beloved.

Hermione Granger

Final Battle Hero

Order of Merlin, First Class

Potions Mistress

Revolutionary New Potion of the Year Recepient

Best Friend

Mother

therewerefewmenleftstandingthatday

"Father." Thomas- as his father demanded that he be called- Malfoy-Potter stood staring down at his biological mother's grave stoically. "What do you think she would think of me?

"Well, Thomas." Draco put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I knew your mother well enough to know that she would be truly ecstatic to know what you've made of yourself.''

"She wouldn't be disappointed that I'm a Ravenclaw, would she?" Hazel eyes looked worriedly up into gray.

Draco smiled sadly. It had been twelve years to the day that Hermione Granger had died, and her son was everything she had hoped he would be. History would not repeat again, for the brunette bookworm's Gryffindor spark and love of learning had successfully balanced out the charming Slytherin's dark streak. And while the vice versa was also true, Draco was confident that neither of Tom's parents- with their reputations for quick minds and sharp tongues- would mind that their son had taken more of a scholar's route.

"No, Tom." A new voice spoke behind them and Draco turned with his son to see his husband of ten years, Harry Potter, standing there smiling sadly. "Your mum would have been proud beyond any words. As your father and I both are."

"H'llo, Dad. Glad you got away from work." The young boy grinned, flashing his perfect teeth and running a hand through his straight brown hair.

"Harry." There was a whining note in Draco's voice. "Grange named him Thomas for a reason, you know! We need to respect that!"

"Thomas is a stuffy name, Draco." Harry chided, gently, smiling. "Tom fits him better. He's twelve, Dray, not two hundred." The blonde huffed and turned away.

"Do you really think she'd like me, Dad?" Tom asked, needing with all of his heart to be told again. He loved his parents, but he had grown up with the weight of his birth father's legacy on him...a legacy that wasn't at all pleasing. More often than not, the young boy found himself the outsider...the loner...simply because of who his bloodline could be traced back to compared to whose house he was actually in.

"On the contrary." A prim, feminine voice startled them all, making them turn. "I love you, Tom." They turned to see a translucent woman standing by the headstone that marked Hermione Granger's resting place.

"M-mum?" Tom choked out.

"Yes, darling." Those brown eyes softened as she looked at her son. A second shade came into view just behind her, looking much as Tom would look in ten years' time...though with darker, almost black, hair. "We are proud of you, Tom."

"You have surpassed our greatest wishes, son." The man standing with Hermione said, quietly.

"Hermione." Harry couldn't help speaking. When those laughing brown eyes turned to him, he stayed still, tongue-tied.

"Oh Harry. Thank you for protecting my son. Thank you for loving him." The voice was soft. "Your parents send their best wishes."

"And young Lord Malfoy." Draco turned to look at Voldemort's ghost. "I was given a message for you."

"Yes?"

"Your father was given his due. Everything he ever inflicted upon an innocent has now become his own punishment."

"Thank you, sir."

"Goodbye, Tom." Hermione whispered, blowing a ghostly kiss to her son as she and her love faded from view.

"We love you, son." Voldemort said, his voice ringing in the air even after they were gone.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. Draco slid to Harry, who put an arm around his husband's waist and held a hand out to their adopted son. "Come on, Tom. Mrs. Weasley will skin us alive if we're late for dinner. It's the New Year, after all."

"Do you think Uncle Fred and Uncle George will have a fireworks show again this year?"

"I'd almost guarantee it."

"Yippee! Last one down the hill to Mrs. Weasley's is a rotten hippogriff egg!" Tom took off running.

After a moment or two of looking at each other, smiling, both of his fathers took off after him, laughing the entire way.

Author's Note:

Again, thank you to all who reviewed and all who are clicking the review button now. In this epilogue, I have come closer to pushing Voldemort OOC than I have in the entirety of the fourteen prior chapters. My reasons are these:

1. He has been dead for thirteen years, Hermione twelve. She will have had time to draw his spirit towards the light in that time gap.

2. Thomas Richard Malfoy-Potter is Voldemort's son. Though he may wish for the child to follow the dark path that he himself took, the fact remains that young Tom inherited the love for learning that his mother and father both share…which is what the lure of the Dark Arts is, in my mind. To me, the Dark Arts are a soul-deep craving for knowledge that goes beyond simply what is accepted in society. No doubt not every scholar studying this darkness manages to keep a scholarly interest…however, it also stands to reason that not every scholar crosses that line to madman either.

3. Hermione would make his afterlife miserable if he tried to pressure their son into the dark arts.

Goodbye, dear readers, and thank you ever so much for your reviews and support.

Yours,

Allison