Let us take a short interlude and canvass some audience reactions.

The house-elves

As the play proceeded, house-elf after house-elf crept in to the back of the Great Hall and tried to see what was happening on the stage. Being little, this proved to be a wee bit of a challenge, but they resolved this by sitting on each other's shoulders, forming tall, wobbly towers of elf. All watched Romeo and Juliet's discourse as though they were at a tennis match – all heads turning to Romeo, then to Juliet, back and forth, back and forth.

Mr Weasley

Mr Weasley looked stunned by the entire production, and pleased as punch that his youngest son and only daughter had such significant roles in it, one way or the other. Ron should really see a healer about that cold, though, he thought. Poor boy's been sneezing nearly non-stop at times.

Mrs Weasley

Mrs Weasley was caught up in the drama and spectacle. Such a pity dear Hermione had to kiss that Malfoy boy, she thought, when it should have been Ronald instead. Even Harry would do. Bless him, doesn't poor Harry look gaunt? He needs feeding up, that's what.

Still, the intense look of love on that Malfoy boy's face every time he looks at dear Hermione – gracious, what a good actor he is! And why are Ronald's allergies acting up so badly? I must have a word with Poppy Pomfrey after the play.

Fred and George Weasley

Despite Fred and George's initial interpretation difficulties, they found themselves thoroughly entertained. They particularly liked the sword fights, and hoped more would come. The sight of their brother prancing on a stage in make-up was a memory they would treasure for the rest of their lives. And at the hands of their dear sister, no less!

They even devised a potential new product for their store: if these Shakespeare plays were going to take off in the wizarding world, they should invent some sort of hand-held device that translates Shakespearian verse into plain English as it is being spoken. Excellent!

Mrs Granger

Mrs Granger was transfixed. Look at my dear girl, she thought proudly. How confident and beautiful she is! I do like what she's done with her hair. And Romeo… dishy! Lucky girl, getting to kiss him. I hope he's not that Malfoy boy, the one that bullied her for years and years.

Mr Granger

Mr Granger still couldn't get over the enchanted ceiling twinkling above him. Thank God I can watch the stars every time that blond punk tries to play tonsil tennis with my daughter, he silently fumed. He's enjoying it far too much. I can tell. He'd better keep his hands where I can see them.

Mrs Malfoy

Mrs Malfoy's beautiful features were serene, not betraying any of the thoughts tumbling through her head. Oh, my dear boy looks so good on the stage, she thought. I always thought he would make a fine actor, even though the profession itself is below gauche. For Purebloods, anyway.

With that beard, he looks older than his true age. Goodness - he's a man, now. It's time for him to make his own decisions and carve out a life for himself. And is that… surely not…but it is! Miss Granger is playing Juliet! How well they look together! How odd.

And whatever's wrong with that ridiculous Weasley boy, it had better not be catching.

Mr Malfoy

Mr Malfoy sat entirely still, his hands resting lightly on top of his cane. Not a single word or action on stage missed his scrutiny. Of course Shakespeare was a wizard, he thought contemptuously. What the Hades does that old fool know? How could any Mu-muggle possibly write such clever and beautiful verse?

It is right that the principal role went to my son, he thought. Even in this…questionable… activity, Malfoys must always lead. He's quite brilliant – who else but a Malfoy could pretend to love Juliet so much as Draco?

Hmm… Juliet's quite a comely wench, actually. Maybe my boy isn't pretending quite so hard, after all? He permitted himself a silent snigger.

But wait…can it be? Salazar Slytherin's sagging scrotum, it's her. The Mu-muggle girl. Granger. Gods preserve us all. She has no right to look so beautiful, bewitching my son like that. There must be some school rule against it. Dumbledore shall hear of this.

Professor Dumbledore

Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall sat up the front. Dumbledore was smiling as he followed the action. He was one of the few wizards, of course, who was intimately familiar with the play.

This humble author wouldn't dare be so bold as to perform Legilimency on the great man himself, so we'll just nip off to Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall

The good lady was caught up in every moment, eyes on stalks, hanging on to every word. She immediately resolved to read every single piece of work Mr Shakespeare produced, starting this very night.

Oh, dear. A mixed bag of reactions, shall we say.

It was time for that scene. No, not the one at the end! You know, the scene where Romeo and Juliet, as secret husband and wife, consummate their love before Romeo undertakes his banishment from Verona.

(Yes, yes, it's not true to the play. But the author craves a little artistic licence and your patience…)

Harry, who as Tybalt, had been recently killed by Romeo and thus was at a loose end until the, er, end, picked an unobtrusive spot in the wings to watch the poignant scene with Ginny, and everyone else in the cast and crew.

A scene which Draco and Hermione had been unable to completely act out. Until now.

The stage slowly lit up to reveal a beautiful, high-domed room with windows that looked out onto a starlit garden.

It was sparsely furnished, with an escritoire, some tall free-standing candelabra, and a large, white four-poster bed, raised on a shallow platform and swathed on three sides with translucent silver chiffon that billowed lightly in an unseen breeze.

Juliet sat writing at her escritoire, a lonely figure, clothed in a flowing white nightgown and a delicately-embroidered pink shawl that wrapped around her slim arms and fell to the floor.

The candles flickered, and a shadow appeared on the stage. Juliet's heart was full, and she hastened to where her passionate, beautiful husband stood.

Romeo, in turn, watched his wife approach, in awe of her beauty and her love – love that was for him, and him alone. He refused to think that this might be the last time they would meet. Would touch. Would kiss. No. Like a soldier who never knows if he will live to see tomorrow's sunset, he would take all he could, savour every moment, commit each and every thing to memory. Fill his head. His heart. His soul.

It was a scene without words, accompanied by a sole violinist, playing a slow, hypnotic tune. Words would be uttered in the early morning, when Romeo, bravely or foolishly, take your pick, finds it so hard to leave his beautiful, loving wife that he would risk being killed, if only he could stay with her.

But for now, Romeo embraced Juliet as if he were clinging to his last shred of life.

They stood before the bed. Audience members with sharp eyes might have noticed Romeo softly tell Juliet that he loved her before their lips met, which certainly isn't in the script.

They kissed; slowly, longingly, never wanting to let go. Romeo's hands drifted up Juliet's arms, and her shawl fell away, pooling on the stage floor; a gentle facsimile of a man slowly undressing his lover.

Romeo pressed a kiss to the hollow of Juliet's throat; her head fell back in bliss, and her hair rippled down her back.

Juliet undid Romeo's jacket, and it slid to the floor. They kissed again, but with urgency this time, breathing hard when they parted.

All around was silence. Not a peep from the audience, caught up in the moment. Nothing from backstage. Not even from Ron, who was so incensed at the erotic imagery onstage that he was rendered speechless.

Romeo pulled away slightly from Juliet; kissed her hands, then let them fall.

He pulled his linen shirt over his head and stood before her. Proud. Vulnerable.

A collective intake of breath expelled from the audience. It was mostly an appreciative intake of breath. There may have been one or two strangled gasps from roughly where Mr Malfoy and Mr Granger were sitting, respectively.

Juliet's trembling fingers traced a path from Romeo's throat, over his sternum and down to his navel. Biting her lip nervously, she looked up at his face. She found desire, sadness, bust most of all, overwhelming love.

Romeo collected Juliet up in his arms, and carried her to the bed. Laying her gently down, he knelt above her, cradled her face in his hands, and sealed their love with an achingly haunting kiss.

Professor Snape came to his senses, and the stage lights went dark.

Mr Granger asked his wife if it was safe to look at the stage now.

'What the hell is Malfoy playing at?' fumed Ron, pacing back and forth in the Green Room.

Ginny yawned. 'Give it a rest, Ron. It's called acting.'

Ron rounded on her in fury. 'That's my girl he's mauling on stage, in front of everyone!'

Harry stepped up next to Ginny. 'She's not your girlfriend, mate,' he said gently.

'Well, not right now, no.' Ron commenced another spirited pace around the room. 'But she's come around to me again, anyone can see that, right?' He stopped and glared at them. 'Right?'

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. 'I really think she just wants to be your friend,' said Ginny.

'Rubbish.' Ron looked at himself in one of the mirrors and adjusted his costume. 'I'll tell her right after the final curtain.'

'Um, tell her what?'

'That it's time for us to be back together again.' He checked his face in the mirror. 'Gin, can you fix me up? I'm a bit shiny here.'

Ginny sent an exasperated look to Harry, who threw up his hands.

And here we are. The Capulet tomb. Where Tybalt and Juliet were just so recently laid to rest. See? Juliet sleeps the sleep of the dead, on top of her marble dais. Silent and cold.

Romeo stumbled in, bone weary and heartsore. He gazed down at his beautiful wife, whose features death had yet to mar.

Romeo: - Ah, dear Juliet,

Why are thou yet so fair? Shall I believe

That unsubstantial death is amorous,

And that the lean abhorred monster keeps

Thee here in dark to be his paramour?

For fear of that, I will stay with thee,

And never from this palace of dim night

Depart again.

Poor, heartbroken Romeo swallowed deadly poison, and laid down beside Juliet for the second, and final, time.

Holding her body, he kissed her goodbye. A tear fell on to Juliet's cheek.

Then he was no more.

Juliet stirred, the effects of the Friar's potion having worn off. Romeo lay next to her. She was overjoyed to see him, but he was cold and unresponsive to her increasingly desperate touch. Tearfully, frantically, she searched for answers to his condition, and discovered the bottle of poison, still clasped in his dead hand.

She greedily put the vial to her lips; but there was nothing left.

She kissed her husband, searching for any lingering trace of what killed him. But death will not take her this way.

Her hand brushed his dagger. She drew it from its scabbard. Its lethal blade glinted in the tomb's candlelight.

Juliet: O happy dagger,

This is thy sheath. There rust and let me die.

Tears streamed down Juliet's face. The hand holding the dagger shook, so she stilled it with the other. Looking down onto the face of her husband, she plunged it into her heart, a cry of agony breaking free from her lips.

The audience, on the verge of their seats, were also on the verge of tears. Still reeling from Romeo's poignant death, they were distraught by Juliet's violent demise. Handkerchiefs were pulled out from sleeves, pockets and handbags, dabbing watery eyes, wet cheeks and red noses. Those without the foresight to come prepared made discreet use of their sleeves. Others just sat still, stunned, with eyes and mouths round with disbelief.

Up the back, the house-elves burst into loud and watery howls of grief, scaring the bejesus out of audience members sitting nearby.

Finally, it was Goyle's time to bring the play to a close.

Prince: A glooming peace this morning with it brings.

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things.

Some shall be pardoned, and some punished.

For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Goyle bowed to the audience, signifying the end. Professor Flitwick, with suspiciously red eyes, coaxed the orchestra into its final, melancholy melody.

The audience was struck dumb.

Goyle, still bowing, looked discreetly into the wings at Snape, who was poised to bring the curtain down. But it seemed rather eerie to do so with an unresponsive audience, so he stayed his hand.

So, the audience thought it sucked, thought Snape. Good try though, Draco. And Granger.

But wait - the sound of a single person clapping echoed around the Hall. It was Professor Dumbledore, beaming with pride and wiping a couple of tears from his eyes. Next to him, Professor McGonagall came to, and joined in, still clutching her handkerchief.

The audience collectively shook itself and enthusiastically added their hands to the applause. Except the house-elves, who were inconsolable.

Goyle straightened up and watched with amazement as the audience in its entirety – yes, even Mr and Mrs Malfoy, stood up and applauded.

Romeo and Juliet, still dead but in the background, linked pinky fingers.

It was done.

Curtain call time!

The cast proudly marched onto the stage in pairs, acknowledging the applause and cheers of the audience with bows and beaming smiles. Fred and George let off ear-splitting whistles of appreciation, until Mrs Weasley got in a sharp one-two with her handbag and thwacked them in their solar plexuses.

The noise grew louder as the cast assembled into lines. Draco and Hermione stood in opposite wings, waiting for their turn. Draco caught Hermione's eye across the stage. She was beaming with pride and relief, and he probably thought he looked the same.

She grinned at him, and winked.

He winked back.

Then, to the audience's manic delight, Draco and Hermione finally strode to the centre of the stage, linked arms, then headed to stage front to bow, or curtsey.

The house-elves were quite taken aback, but very relieved, to see Romeo and Juliet alive again.

Draco and Hermione turned to each other. Draco held Hermione's hands and brought them up. Smiling, he looked down into her eyes, lowered his head, and kissed her.

She stood on her tip-toes and wrapped her hands around his neck, while he wrapped his arms around her waist.

And thus, the curtain fell on our kissing couple.

'Ahem.'

No response.

'Malfoy.'

No response.

'MALFOY!'

Draco and Hermione unlocked lips and looked around to see that the curtain had fallen for the final time and the cast and crew were standing on stage, staring at them.

Blaise stepped forward, Slytherin smirk on full sneer mode. 'So, do you two have something you want to tell us?' he asked.

Draco and Hermione linked hands. 'Yeah', said Draco. 'We're together.'

'Rather an understatement, wouldn't you say?'

'Not really. The facts of it are pretty simple,' Draco replied. 'Boy meets girl, they argue and fight for seven years, make up and fall in love. So, yeah. We're together.'

'Good.' Blaise smiled.

'Good?' Draco was surprised.

'Yeah. Good.' Blaise's lip flickered, then he started laughing. 'About fucking time, too!'

Amazed, Draco and Hermione looked around at their friends and peers. All of them were smiling or laughing. Parvati and Goyle had their arms around each other, looking like two cats who had stumbled upon an awful lot of cream.

All except for….

''Mione, what in the name of Godric Gryffindor is going on?'

Ron stomped up to the pair, red of face (despite make-up) and breathing fire. 'You can't be with him.' He sneered at Malfoy, whose hackles started rising.

Hermione put a calming hand on Draco's arm and turned to Ron. 'I am with him, Ron.' She sighed. 'In fact, we've been together for months.'

Ron's redness evolved into a shade of red never before seen.

'We wanted to let our friends know at time, but we were concerned that some people' – Hermione narrowed her gaze at Ron but he completely missed it – 'would react badly. So we…' Hermione trailed off and looked at Draco, biting her lip.

'We convinced Professor Clarence to put on this play as a way of introducing the concept of two people from different backgrounds being meant for each other.' Draco lifted his chin defiantly and cast the Malfoy Look around the stage.

'Wow,' Pansy said. 'That's a hell of a lot of work you put us all through.'

'Um, yeah…'

'But hell, it was fun!' She grinned. 'This has been the best year of school ever!'

A chorus of cheerful 'Yeahs!' and other agreements sounded out.

Meanwhile, Ron couldn't believe his ears. 'I can't believe my ears!' he yelled. ''Mione, don't throw your future away with that Slytherin twat. You know we're meant to be together.'

Harry and Ginny stepped up to either side of him. 'Ron, you need to let go and move on,' Harry said firmly. 'Hermione and Draco are in a serious relationship.'

'Rubbish,' filibustered Ron.

'No, it's not rubbish,' Ginny said. 'They're good for each other. They're good to each other. They're supposed to be together. Like me and Harry.' She looked up at Harry, who smiled and kissed her on the nose.

'Ron, I can't be your girlfriend,' Hermione said softly. 'But I'll always be a part of your life. As a good friend.'

Ron must have let off some steam, because he was looking rather deflated. 'But I'll miss you,' he said with a suspiciously wobbly lower lip.

With a quick glance at Draco, Hermione gathered him in her arms and hugged him. 'You can't miss me; I'll never be far away.'

Stepping back, she looked at Draco and Ron. 'I would really like it if you two could stop flinging insults at each other, one day,' she said hopefully.

Draco and Ron glared at each and stomped off in opposite directions.

Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around Harry, who came over to hug her. 'That went well.'

'It did,' replied Harry. 'They didn't beat each other up or hex each other.'

'I guess so,' she sighed.

'Oh, good, everyone's here! I can't believe how well everyone performed!' Professor Clarence came bustling onto the stage. Her eyes were sparkling. 'This is the happiest moment of my life!'

Then she burst into tears so loud she would have given the house-elves a run for their money.

'There, there, Ducky,' Professor Flitwick comforted her with a hand placed as high as he could reach on her arm. 'You have much to be proud of.'

'Indeed,' intoned Professor Snape, stepping out of the wings. 'It has been a very interesting experience,' he said – high praise indeed from the imposing Potions Master.

'Three cheers for Professor Clarence!' shouted Seamus, utterly carried away.

'Hip hip, hooray!

'Hip hip, hooray!

'Hip hip, HOORAY!'

'Oh, my dears,' Professor Clarence warbled. 'I'm so overcome with it all!'

'May I suggest a restorative cup of tea in my study, my dear?' asked Professor Flitwick.

'I believe that is exactly what I need,' Professor Clarence replied gratefully. Putting a hand on Flitwick's arm, she toodle-ooed the cast and crew and sailed off.

Professor Snape watched her leave with an un-sighed sigh of relief.

'Mum! Dad!'

Hermione raced into the Great Hall and flung herself into her parents' embrace. There, among the throng of proud parents and mostly sheepish students (still in their costumes and make-up), Hermione held her parents tight.

Releasing them, she then embraced the people who were as dear to her as her own family: Mr and Mrs Weasley and the twins. Mrs Weasley, who had just finished bear-hugging Harry and tutting over his lean frame, (ignoring his protestations that it was just an illusion caused by make-up), trilled 'Oh, my dear girl, you were wonderful! I cried buckets at the end. Thank goodness I brought my self-cleaning hankie with me, otherwise I'd just be a sopping mess.'

'Ooh, I wish I had one of those,' said Mrs Granger enviously, pulling crumpled tissues from up her sleeves and cramming them into her handbag.

'Your wish is our command, dear lady,' said Fred. With a flourish, he pulled a brand-new handkerchief from somewhere on his person and presented it to a boggling Mrs Granger.

'We invented 'em,' said George proudly.

Mr Granger's eyes were round. 'Is it really magical?' he asked.

'Only the very best kind,' Fred assured him.

'Is it machine-washable?' Mrs Granger asked anxiously.

'Mum, it's self-cleaning,' laughed Hermione. You don't need to wash it.'

'Oh! Of course! Silly me. Thank you, my dears.'

Fred and George blushed and scuffed their shoes, then cornered Ron and proceeded to give him hell about his make-up.

Mrs Granger turned back to her daughter, and exclaimed over her hair. Just before Hermione launched into a very technical and magical explanation of how her curls came to be so well-behaved, Mr Granger cleared his throat and caught his wife's eye.

'So, young lady, would you care to tell us about the boy you were kissing, after the play ended, I might add?'

The Weasleys pricked up their ears and edged nonchalantly closer.

Hermione's cheeks turned pink. 'Well, yes. That was…' she broke off and mumbled something to her feet.

'Pardon, dear?'

She sighed. Here we go.

'That was Draco Malfoy,' she said clearly. 'He's Head Boy. And Slytherin Quidditch Captain. And… we're together.'

She was met with shocked silence.

Mrs Granger recovered first. 'Draco Malfoy? The Draco Malfoy about whom you constantly wrote to us, in tears, because of the way he bullied you?'

Hermione looked up at the night sky, then down at her feet. 'Yes, Mum,' she said quietly.

Mr Granger glowered. 'Has he put some kind of spell… thingy on you?' he asked tightly. 'I'm sure he's capable.'

'No, Dad. We just discovered under all the arguing and bickering that we had a lot in common. And we became friends.' She swallowed. 'And then more than friends.'

'La la la la! I don't want to hear it!' Mr Granger clapped his hands over his ears and stomped around in a circle.

'Oh, get over yourself, dear,' Mrs Granger said dismissively. She turned to Hermione and lowered her voice. 'I thought you and Ron…'

Hermione shook her head gently. 'But we'll always be friends.'

'Oh, Hermione!' Much to the Grangers' surprise, Mrs Weasley burst into tears. Mr Weasley fished the self-cleaning handkerchief out of her handbag and handed it to her.

'I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley,' Hermione said sadly.

Ron hugged his Mum. 'It'll be okay, Mum. We'll still be great friends, right 'Mione?'

'Absolutely,' she smiled.

Mrs Granger turned towards Hermione. 'Are you sure about Draco, dear?' she asked softly.

Hermione nodded. 'Definitely, Mum. I love him.'

'And I love you.'

Everyone turned around to see Draco, Mr and Mrs Malfoy standing behind Hermione and her mother. All three displayed varying levels of grim on their faces.

Heart in her mouth, Hermione remembered her manners. 'Uh, Mum, Dad, may I introduce Draco, my boyfriend, and his parents Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Draco, Mr and Mrs Malfoy' – she quailed slightly under Mr Malfoy's basilisk glare – 'may I introduce my parents, Andrew and Jean Granger.' She trailed off, while the parents nodded coolly to each other.

Draco stepped forward and offered his hand to Mr Granger. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, sir,' he said respectfully. 'Hermione talks about you and your wife often.' Looking at both Mr and Mrs Granger, he continued 'I would like to apologise, extensively, for the hurt I caused your daughter at school these previous years. I was immature and easily led. But spending time with Hermione this year has made me realise what a stupid idiot I've been. You have my word that I will never hurt her again. I hope you will forgive me.'

The hot air Mr Granger had been building up slowly disappeared. He looked at Draco's still-outstretched hand, then raised his own and shook it firmly.

Both Hermione and Draco sighed in quiet relief.

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Draco,' Mrs Granger said, blushing as Draco took her hand and kissed it, the way he had been raised to.

Beside Lucius, Narcissa briefly smiled with pride. She knew what it had cost her son to confess to a failing in public. Proof positive that Draco did, indeed, love Hermione Granger very much. Despite what her husband thought. And everyone knew what he thought, because he made it his business to let everyone know what he thought of this pairing.

'Be that as it may,' started Mr Malfoy pompously, 'some serious implications have been raised by the partnering of my son with Miss Granger. As we have only now become aware of this relationship' – he glared at Draco, who glared back – 'it pains me to have to announce that this relationship will have to be set aside.'

Amid a chorus of sputtering indignation from the Weasleys, Harry, Grangers and Mrs Malfoy, Hermione felt blindly for Draco's hand, and clung to it when their fingers connected.

'It's going better than I thought,' commented Draco.

Hermione half-laughed, half-sobbed. 'How do you figure?'

'Your parents are open-minded enough to accept us, and so is Mother. Even the Weasleys appear to be on our side. Only one more bear to bait, and we're home free.'

'He's a pretty big bear.'

'Not where Mother is concerned.' Draco touched her cheek, and gently kissed her. 'You'll see.'

Galvanised into raising his voice above the hubbub after witnessing Draco kiss the Mu-muggleborn, he said 'Draco has been promised, from birth, to a witch from another family. A Pureblood family,' he emphasised, although that term meant nothing to the Grangers.

'Oh, for Circe's sake, Lucius,' snapped Narcissa. 'The world is not the same as it was eighteen years ago. While it may not be standard for Pureblood witches and wizards to marry for love, it does happen, and their unions last a lifetime. Look at Mr and Mrs Weasley. Look at us.'

It pained Lucius to look at the Weasleys for more than a nanosecond, not that he knew what one was, and he knew if he turned and looked into his wife's beautiful eyes, he'd capitulate faster than you could say 'I am a gorgeous, silver-haired pussycat. Please rub my tummy.'

So Lucius played his last card. 'I will not allow a Mu-muggleborn to join our family.'

This time, the Grangers figured out this was a rather nasty thing to say, so they joined in the chorus of disgusted 'Ohs!' and 'Bloody hells!' from the collection of Weasleys (and Potter).

'Your wife is right, Lucius,' a dark voice drawled.

The sea of Weasleys parted to admit Professor Snape, who strolled menacingly through and came to a stop by his stubborn, judgemental friend. 'The times have changed, but you still cling to the old ways. Have you already forgotten the carnage those old ways wrought? It nearly brought about the destruction of our world.'

Lucius glared at him, but kept his mouth shut. With extreme difficulty.

Snape indicated Hermione and Draco with a sweep of his arm. 'This witch and wizard represent the new times we live in. Where the status of one's blood, or any other false status, are irrelevant. Indeed, the noble families need people like Miss Granger here. Or they will die out in a few hundred years. If you don't believe me, I'm sure Mr or Mrs Granger can confirm it.'

Being dentists, they'd have to refresh their memory on Mendelian genetics from their First Year medical studies, but both felt up to the task.

'Lucius.' Narcissa put her hand lightly on his chest. Reluctantly, he looked down at her. 'Will you risk turning your son away from you?'

He looked at Draco, who had a protective arm curled around Hermione. Draco met his gaze without fear. He was a chip off the old block, and Lucius knew he was prepared to do what it would take to stay with her.

How irritating.

'All right,' he mumbled.

'Pardon, Father?'

'All right!' Lucius snapped. 'Please bear in mind that your relationship with Miss Granger will be difficult for me to adjust to. But I will no longer openly condemn it.' He crossed his arms and stuck his nose up in the air. 'That's the best I can do for now.'

Narcissa wiggled under his embrace and kissed him. 'Thank you, darling.'

The Grangers and Weasleys might have thought he still had a bloody long way to go, but Draco hugged Hermione and said 'I never expected a result that good in a million years.'

Hermione stared at him and said 'You need to raise your expectations.'

Draco laughed and held her tight, while everyone surrounding them watched the beautiful and couple and (mostly) thought to themselves that love is beautiful. And strange. But always beautiful.

Families started to drift apart – parents to apparition points outside the grounds (or the Hogwarts Express for muggles), and students to their dorms. Hermione started walking with her parents to the Hall entrance with the Weasleys and Malfoys.

Draco patted his pockets.

'Oh love, can you do me a favour and keep this for me? If I leave it in my pocket I'll just lose it.'

Hermione turned around just as he pulled out a ring.

Hermione was stunned. Oblivious to the gasps of the people surrounding her.

There, in Draco's slightly shaking fingers, was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. It looked like the ring itself was made from delicate filigree brass, although she was prepared to bet it was a pure and precious dark gold. The filigree formed tendrils of perfectly-detailed leaves that wound around each other until they reached the stone in the centre, where it unfurled into a tiny branch that framed the centre jewel. It was an emerald – of course, this is Draco, after all – but it was a light-hued raw emerald, creamily opaque and absolutely unique.

In a shaking voice, she asked 'Not an engagement ring?'

He smiled and shook his head. 'It's a promise ring.'

'A promise ring?'

He gently took her right hand and slid the ring onto her fourth finger. It felt warm and light and perfect. 'I promise I'll propose to you again in a year's time.'

'Again?' cried the ladies.

'What?' cried Messrs Granger and Malfoy.

Hermione was almost bowled over from a fierce hug from Ginny. 'Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!' she screeched. 'Omigod, let me see the ring.'

'It's not an engagement ring!' cried Hermione, laughing and crying once more.

While Hermione's right hand was passed along the ladies to gawk at, Hermione reached out (with some difficulty) to Draco with her left arm and hugged him as hard as she could, despite being pulled in the other direction by Mrs Weasley, who was cooing over the ring with Mrs Granger.

'I love it,' she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. 'I love you.'

'Well, Plan C appears to have been a success,' she murmured.

Draco chuckled. 'Appears so.'

Hermione pulled back slightly and looked up at him. 'So! What's next?'

Draco pretended to mop a sweaty brow. 'Jeez, woman, can't we have a cup of tea and a lie-down first?'

Hermione considered. 'How about we ditch the cup of tea, and the parents, and go straight to the lie-down?'

His silver eyes gleamed. 'Any time you want me.'

'Always,' she smiled.

The End.

A/N: YAY! We made it to the finish line! I can't believe I once thought I'd have this whole story done and dusted in four chapters. Thank you so much to everyone's who read, followed and favourited this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I'll be back one day with a new Harry Potter fanfic – if you haven't already, pop me on your 'follow Author' list and we'll meet again. Arohanui (with deep affection) xx