…

Epilogue

…

Voldemort was killed in obscurity.

The remaining Death Eater army was vanquished by an unknown adolescent with blue hair and a slightly disturbing penchant for screaming "YAHOO!" at inappropriate times.

The Ministry began to rebuild itself with unprecedented rates of productivity.

The Wizarding World remained politely confused.

…

Harry Potter was returned – relatively unharmed (Stein's experiments didn't count: he was unconscious) – to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry just as the students were preparing to launch a full-frontal rebellion to the teachers, who insisted that everything was fine, honestly, and they knew exactly where Harry was, really, they just couldn't say where.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione was the instigator. Ron acted as second-in-command, while Ginny and Neville ran interference between the two parties in an attempt to stop a civil war from brewing. Luna just sat back and smiled.

Harry was dropped off by a nervously smiling Angela, who disappeared as soon as possible, ignoring even Dumbledore's polite offer of a lemon drop. Harry had stood in the Headmaster's office, blinking at the sudden shock of it all (one moment, he had been sound asleep – the next, he was being beaten into descent clothing and sent on his merry way, glasses still slightly askew and hair still hopelessly tangled), when Professor McGonagall had burst in in order to drag him downstairs into the Hall, to stop his friends from completely destroying the Headmaster's podium.

Harry had stood in the middle of a crowd of cheering people, all of whom were armed to the teeth with wands and various other weapons – he could spot at least seven broomsticks (though why anyone would risk something so essential to his favourite sporting practice was beyond Harry), a plethora of knives and – was that a crowbar? What had been his point?

Oh, yeah. Harry had stood in the middle of his friends, Ginny clutching at his stomach, Hermione choking his neck and Ron grinning beside him, and had burst out laughing.

Seriously. His life. What even.

…

Kid stood in front of the mirror in the Death Room, face obscured by his mask.

The Thompson sisters flanked him at both sides, chins proudly up, no sign of any frivolity on their persons. All three were dressed – well, to kill.

On the other side of the mirror, the Witches Council sat, arranged in their customary crescent-moon positioning.

"You will never do this to me again," Kid said, cold and clear.

"We don't…" the Judge began.

"You will never do this to me again," Kid repeated flatly. "Or I will declare war."

There was a long pause.

"Death the Kid…" the Judge started once again, voice cautious. "Do you mean to imply…"

"I'm not implying anything," Kid said. It was probably for the best that no one could see his chilly smile underneath his mask, because it wasn't pretty. "I'm telling you that we are not your pawns. We will not dance to the beat of your tune. Because of our involvement in this war, you gained numerous advantages within the political systems of this so-called 'Wizarding World'. Because of our sacrifices, you have benefited."

"A coincidence…" the Judge said smoothly. "We saw an opportunity, and we took it."

Kid clenched his fists tightly. "If any such 'opportunities'," he sneered. "Occur once again, we are going to war."

"I think that is a hasty declaration…!"

"I have trauma to deal with, in my people!" Kid shouted. "I have one person in a coma, I have another dealing with abilities they can't control, and I have numerous people suffering from various forms of PTSD because of this little escapade. Let me assure you, I am not happy."

"We are not responsible…!"

"This meeting is over," Kid interrupted them frostily. "We will convene at a date when I am of a calmer disposition. Until then, any attempt to contact me directly, not via our delegates, will be seen as a threat, and will be dealt with accordingly."

Without waiting for the Witches to respond, Kid cut off the message and turned away.

…

Maka was transferred to the DWMA infirmary.

Soul mostly slept there, when he wasn't being forced outside by his so-called 'friends', who insisted that staying inside too much was bad for his health. Ha. Haha. That was funny.

She still hadn't woken up.

"Give it time," Stein had assured him, bored with Soul's incessant queries. "She'll come-to around Christmas. Now, I have to go and process this data I got from Jackie…!"

Soul sighed and went back to his vigil. He didn't stop training – Maka would kick his ass the moment she woke up if he allowed himself to get out of shape – but he barely went out on any missions, and even then, they were mostly clustered around Death City. People dropped by on a regular basis, sometimes just to see her, sometimes to talk to him. Both were fairly popular – minor celebrities, of a sense, what with their participation in the Battle on the Moon.

Soul started reading to her.

It was stupid. She couldn't hear him; he knew she couldn't hear him, because every time he opened his mouth he probed gently at her soul, there wasn't even a spark of consciousness. But he read to her anyway, because it made him feel better. This wasn't about her.

Soul kind of hated himself, every time he laughed at something from the books. She was a nerd, sure, but for the most part she had good taste.

Christmas, then. He could wait until Christmas.

He could.

…

"Jackie," Kim said, and stopped.

Jackie stared at her expectantly from across the table they were sitting at, food spread out between them.

"Kim?" she said, when it was obvious that Kim wasn't going to continue.

Kim took a deep breath, and then exhaled. She could do this. She could. She was Kim Diehl: Witch and Meister extraordinaire, member of the Spartoi and all-round badass. She was a member of the select group of people able to make significant changes within the DWMA's structure, was able to handle the toughest of missions with ease, was –

Terrified.

"Jackie," Kim repeated, and then ground to a halt, mind going blank.

Jackie chewed on a piece of carrot thoughtfully, pulling at her fingers underneath the table. Her Meister had been out of sorts ever since they had gotten back from England, twitchy and suspiciously meek when it came to demands. The Demon Lamp had pre-emptively filled up on her stock of Mars bars, since she knew how a mission gone bad could affect the Witch (never mind that it had, in the end, been a success: people had died. In droves). It seemed, however, that she had been too hasty in her decision to blow this month's budget, because Kim didn't seem too interested in chocolate.

"Okay," she finally said, standing up and walking around to sit next to her Meister. "I have something to say."

Kim's eyes widened. "You do?"

"Yes," Jackie said firmly, twisting so that she was staring her Meister dead in the eye. She could feel a blush crawling up her throat to dominate her cheeks, but she fought it down with a bout of determination. She could do this. "I do."

She grabbed onto Kim's hands and squeezed them. Kim seemed kind of lost, like she wasn't sure what was happening, which was fine with Jackie. Keeping the Witch off-balance usually worked out for the best, after all. Things generally went better when Kim wasn't thinking too hard.

Kim looked uncharacteristically nervous, fingers flexing impatiently under Jackie's own, warmer ones. "Jack…?"

"I'm in love with you," Jackie said, heart beating so hard that she could barely hear the words that were coming out of her mouth. "I've been in love with you for years, and I'll be in love with you for years more."

Kim blinked at her stupidly. "Huh?"

Not the reaction she had been hoping for.

Oh, well.

"I," Jackie repeated slowly, leaning forward. "Am in love with you, Kim Diehl. Even if you're a moron, sometimes. Even though you're greedy, and selfish, and impatient, and love money more than….mmph!"

Jackie was broken off mid-rant as Kim kissed her soundly, lips curved into a smile.

Kim pulled away first, face smug. "I want chocolate."

Jackie stared at her, dazed. "What?"

"You just insulted me," Kim said. "I think that rates at least one Mars bar, don't you think?"

Numbly, with shaking fingers, Jackie pulled out a slightly squashed chocolate-bar from her bag. This was…odd. What? What? Had that just happened? Maybe she had imaging the whole thing. That seemed logical. Not that it had an ounce of logic to it, but it made more sense than Kim actually kissing…

Kim took the chocolate from her gently, opened it, and snapped it in two.

"Here," she said, handing her the squishier half. "Yours."

Jackie took the partially melted chocolate from her Meister automatically, still in a state of total confusion. No, seriously, what in Death's name had just happened?

"Thanks," she said, nibbling tentatively.

"So," Kim said, staring at her own piece of sugar-filled goodness. "Years, huh?"

Huh. So she had actually managed to confess. Jackie had bene worried she'd dreamt that bit up, too. "Yeah," she said.

"Okay," Kim said, nudging Jackie out from their small table so she could stand up. They were in their usual place – Deathbucks Café was too expensive, so they were slumming it in some of the lower districts in order to save money – so the food was mediocre, as usual, and the settings mundane.

"Where are you going?" Jackie demanded, panicking. Okay, so she had imagined the kiss. She had confessed, and she had imagined Kim kissing her, and what was going on, seriously?

Kim paused at the door, throwing a grin over her shoulder. "Come on, Jack!" she called. "This is going to be our first date, isn't it? I'm not having it here!" she sneered at her surroundings.

"…first date?"

"Yes, oh Death," Kim groaned. "I love you too, idiot. Now come on, I'm sure we can find somewhere better than this."

"…what?"

Kim grinned. "My treat."

She really does love me, Jackie thought, awed, and followed her Meister out onto the street. She has to, if she's actually paying.

…

This is what happened on their first date: Jackie accidentally set a pot-plant on fire when Kim pecked her on the cheek, and barely managed to put it out before the fire-truck managed to get there. Kim laughed herself sick, and pulled her away before she could be officially charged (no one was sure what exactly she would have been charged with, but Kim didn't want to take the chance).

It only went downhill from there. As Liz somewhat inaccurately predicated during their third date at Deathbucks, where they had both had a blast trying to annoy the eldest Thompson sister to homicide, resulting in three overturned tables, seven rabbits (no one knew where they came from, but Jackie made sure afterward to get them nice homes), three restraining orders and thirteen bouts of spontaneous combustion: "This isn't going to end well."

(It did).

…

THE END

…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Soul Eater.

Final A/N: hi, guys. Sorry for the lateness. Hope this meets up to expectations. There's no sequels planned, but I might do a oneshot about Maka waking up. If anyone's interested in writing in this 'verse, please let me know, but you're welcome to try anything. I had a lot of fun :)

For the final time, I want to thank: Krazyfanfiction1, Neon Wish, SilverStarWolfGoddessAmarantha, SoulxMakaLover37, Kenzie Perth, for reviewing my last chapter. Special mention to poke me all you want, who's chewing through my earlier stuff and leaving reviews, despite my poor grammar and spelling mistakes.

I'll be writing some more of my 'Sorting Hat' oneshots, if anyone's interested. More information on my profile.

This is it. Thanks for everything – from my readers, to my reviewers, you've been a big support. Any questions, just review or PM me. I'll try to get back to anyone who contacts me :)

See ya!

MM