Well, here we are. Officially the last chapter of this fic. Thanks to LadyLilyMalfoy, L.A.H.H., flamingbunnies, The Glowing Mischief, Ashyia Francis Belladonna, RemmyBlack, RavenclawRebel, LupineMoon, Analie209 and Aaliyanna's-SeventhHeaven for the reviews. Also, thanks to those of you who have stuck with this story! I enjoyed writing it, and I'm a bit sorry it has to end. I have plans for a companion piece, though, so be on the lookout for that. And I also plan to revamp Power of the Press, for anyone who's interested. I love you guys! :) Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story.

Saturday dawned cloudy and warm over the ocean, soft grey clouds threatening a summer storm. For now it was only a threat; the sand remained dry, the sea calm.

It was a simple little grave—befitting a simple life, Narcissa mused. The epitaph, roughly carved on a pillow-like white stone, was even simpler: HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF. Only six words. Six words to describe the house-elf. Six words to tell his story. No matter how hard she tried, Narcissa couldn't think of a single thing to add. Harry Potter had said it all.

Narcissa traced the inscription with her finger, and memories flooded back. Harsh words for nearly flawless work. Beatings for a stray, insincere remark. Voices, her own among them, screaming the elf's name in rage. Had she really meant all of what she'd said? Narcissa hoped she hadn't, but it didn't matter now. Dobby left their family having taken every word to heart.

She lay a daffodil on the grave, bright against the new grass. The tide of guilt and shame ebbed some, but didn't disappear completely. Narcissa was certain it never would.

"Never thought I'd see you mourning a house-elf."

Narcissa turned to her sister with a sad smile. "I never thought I'd see Draco treated like one."

Andromeda shifted baby Teddy in her arms, staring at the grave. "Potter told me what he did, during the Easter incident." She smiled slightly. "He died bravely, so I hear."

"Yes," Narcissa whispered. It was all she could manage past the lump in her throat. Voices floated up from the beach, their words muffled by the crashing waves. Andromeda smiled.

"Sounds like they're here."

"Already?"

"Draco didn't seem eager to hold onto those old robes, Cissy." She tilted her head toward the cliff and the voices. "Come on. He won't start without you."

There were no paths from the cottage to the ocean, so Narcissa Apparated from Dobby's grave. Andromeda appeared closer to the group, but Narcissa paused for a moment, unseen, and watched.

Twelve figures clustered around a rickety old canoe. She spotted the three Weasleys first, their flaming red hair vivid against the dismal sky. Beside Ron, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Theodore Nott and Millicent Bulstrode stood opposite the three Gryffindors. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood stood nearest the boat, second only to Asteria Greengrass, who knelt with her back to Narcissa. Andromeda stayed a few feet back, cradling Teddy in her arms. On the other side of the boat, facing her but with his head lowered, was Draco. He looked up at Potter with a grin, then spoke, his answer to the unheard question muffled by the waves.

Spotting her, Draco waved. All heads turned; all hands joined in the salute.

Raising her hand in greeting, Narcissa made her way across the sand. Wind, thick with salt and smelling faintly of rain, whipped through her hair and robes. Asteria smiled when she reached the group.

"Took you long enough," she said, still smiling.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing, really," Neville said. "Draco's just making sure those robes look perfect before they're burned."

"Is that a crime?" He laid his polished mask in the boat.

"No, but it's bloody irritating." Ginny raked her fingers through the knots the wind had left in her hair.

"You should turn the robes over," George Weasley said. "Put the mask at the other end, if you know what I mean."

Everyone snorted a laugh.

"You know, I'm almost tempted to do that," Draco said, lifting the mask. It glinted in the veiled sunlight.

"Be more tempted, then," Ron said.

Draco shrugged, setting the mask in the canoe. "Burning it should be good enough, I think."

Narcissa knelt on the sand and peered into the boat. Though she knew what she would find, the sight brought a rush of warmth toward her son: His Death Eater robes were carefully laid out along the bottom of the canoe, the mask at the top. When he had worn them, the ensemble had seemed at once fearsome and oppressive, as though the uniform itself wished its wearer harm. Now, they appeared weak and defeated. Narcissa wondered if they hadn't bore some sort of enchantment, however small, that broke at the Dark Lord's death.

Draco smiled at her, and she returned it. A moment passed; then he stood. "Looks like it's time for launch. You're all ready, then?"

There were nods and enthusiastic words of assent.

Draco took a small bag from his pocket and emptied a bright red powder into the canoe, sprinkling it over the robes and mask. With a grin, he turned to Narcissa.

"Mum? You'll do the honors?"

Narcissa came forward and grasped the sides of the canoe. The mask stared vacantly up at her, and she couldn't help but smile as she pushed the boat into the water. It took little effort; the robes were hardly any weight at all. Still, she gave the boat a mighty shove, shielding her eyes as it drifted out to sea.

A fireball soared from the tip of Draco's wand, landing in the canoe. There was a brief moment of silence; then a loud BOOM shuddered through the air. The canoe burst into a hundred pieces.

Narcissa couldn't contain a laugh. It burst out of her as she jumped and clapped her hands like a schoolgirl. Laughter and cheers filled the air as the emblems of her son's nightmare went up in smoke.

"That's it for those horrid old things!" Ginny cried as the sound faded.

Draco laughed. "God, that was awesome."

Ron grinned. "Could we do it again?"

"Only had one set, mate."

"Still. That was beautiful."

It was indeed, Narcissa thought. More beautiful still, however, was the expression on her son's face. He watched the place where his robes had burned, the thin curtain of smoke that still hovered over the water. For the first time in years, he looked at peace.

As though sensing her thoughts, Draco turned and looked at her. His smile widened. Narcissa thought she could simply stand there forever and watch him, but he came forward and threw his arms around her. The words he whispered were for her alone.

"Thank you."

The simple phrase brought tears to her eyes. With those two words, he told her he understood: that he knew the sacrifices she'd made, the risks she'd taken, to bring them both to this moment. He'd seen her heartache, her righteous anger and determination, and loved her for it. Her defiance had given him the will to persevere.

Two words. Two words, but they said it all.

Narcissa held him tightly, and whispered the truth she had clung to for the past two years, the source of her courage and strength:

"I love you, Draco."

The end