This chapter contains smut, if this makes you uncomfortable skip it. I will warn you before the smut starts and once it's over.

"Harry!" Eleanor yelled, sprinting toward him with every ounce of strength she had left. Without hesitation, she flung her wand through the air, the very thing that had been her lifeline all night. It soared toward Harry, her heart pounding as it left her hand.

Harry caught the wand effortlessly, and in that instant, Eleanor felt the connection between her and the wand sever—a strange and unsettling sensation, like a thread snapping after being stretched too tight. It was as if the wand itself understood that its purpose had shifted. It no longer belonged to her. It needed to serve Harry now, to fight the final battle, to deliver the blow that would end the war.

The moment was bittersweet, and yet Eleanor felt no regret. This was bigger than her survival. Her wand, her protection, had chosen to be a part of something greater—a weapon in Harry's hand to end Voldemort's reign once and for all.

"Finish this, Harry," she whispered under her breath, knowing he would. He had to.

As the chaos of the battlefield raged outside, Draco grabbed Eleanor's hand, pulling her down a quiet corridor, away from the crowds. His grip was firm, almost desperate, as he led her to a hidden alcove behind a tapestry. The sounds of spells and shouting echoed faintly in the distance, but here, for a brief moment, they were alone.

Before Eleanor could even ask what they were doing, Draco pressed her against the wall, his lips crashing into hers with a fierce urgency. His hands were tangled in her hair, and the kiss was filled with weeks of separation and the fear of losing one another.

Eleanor melted into the kiss, her heart pounding with adrenaline and relief. She kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands gripping the front of his shirt. It was frantic, desperate, and for a moment, they forgot the war raging outside.

**SMUT AHEAD**

Draco's hands moved to the hem of her shirt, starting to tug it upwards, but Eleanor let out a breathless laugh, pulling back just enough to catch his eye. "Is now really a good time for that?" she teased, her voice light despite the seriousness of the situation.

Draco paused, his forehead resting against hers as he breathed heavily, a smirk forming on his lips. "I'm just feeling so inspired by you... by everything," he said, his voice rough but sincere. "For once in my life, I stood up for what I wanted."

He kissed her again, slower this time, and Eleanor felt the weight of his words. It wasn't just about the passion of the moment. It was about Draco finally making his own choices—about standing with her, about fighting for something bigger than himself.

They continued to kiss, letting themselves get lost in one another for a while longer, savoring the connection and the love they had fought so hard to protect. Draco's hands explored her skin, his touch filled with both tenderness and desire. Pushing off her pants with desperation.

Merlin, he had missed sinking himself into her.

His cock brushed against the walls of Eleanor's deep wet, making her back arch further and further into his chest with each delicious stroke. They moved together with an intensity that was born of the danger surrounding them, each moment heightened by the knowledge that it could be their last.

Draco's voice was a rough whisper against Eleanor's ear, his breath hot on her skin. "You're mine, Eleanor Weasley. All mine," he growled, his words sending shivers down her spine as he moved inside her with fierce, unrelenting intensity.

Eleanor whimpered, her body arching into his as the sharp edge of the desk dug into her back, but the pleasure was overwhelming, drowning out everything else. "Always," she gasped, her voice breathless as she matched his rhythm, her hips moving in time with his.

Draco's grip on her hips tightened, pulling her even closer, his fingers leaving marks on her skin as he drove into her with increasing desperation. Her nails scraped across his back, leaving crescent-shaped indents in his pale skin, her head falling back as his pace quickened, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

"Say it again," Draco murmured roughly, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," Eleanor moaned, her voice shaking as her body responded to every thrust. "I've always been yours."

Draco's growl deepened, his movements becoming more frantic as he lost himself in her. The sounds of their breathing, of skin meeting skin, filled the small room, and for a moment, nothing else existed but them.

Draco's grip on Eleanor's waist tightened as their bodies moved in sync, his breath ragged as he thrust harder, deeper, with every second.

Eleanor's moans mixed with his groans, filling the room with the raw sounds of their need. His lips found her neck, nipping at her skin as he grunted between breaths, "You drive me crazy... the way you fight, the way you stand tall... I can't get enough of you."

Eleanor's nails dragged down his back again, her body trembling with pleasure as she whispered against his ear, "I'm yours, Draco. Always... only yours."

His hand slid under her shirt, pushing it up over her chest as his lips met hers in a searing kiss. She could feel the desperation in him, a frantic need to hold onto her, to claim her entirely.

Their bodies crashed together with a primal rhythm, faster, harder, until Eleanor could barely think—her mind clouded with the heat of the moment. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as her body tightened around him, and Draco groaned in response, his pace becoming erratic.

"Eleanor..." he rasped, his forehead pressed against hers, their breaths mingling. "I'm never letting you go."

Her answer was a breathless moan, her body shuddering with the overwhelming rush of pleasure building inside her. She could feel the tension coiling in her core, ready to snap, and she dug her fingers into Draco's shoulders as the sensation finally overtook her. A scream ripped from her throat as she clung to him, her release flooding through her in waves.

Draco followed soon after, his movements turning frantic as he buried himself inside her one last time, groaning her name as he came. For a moment, they stayed locked together, panting, their hearts racing in the aftermath of their shared release.

As the intensity faded, Draco rested his forehead against hers, his breath still heavy, lips brushing hers with a softer, gentler kiss.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips, his voice raw with emotion.

"I love you too," Eleanor replied, her heart full despite the turmoil around them.

Draco and Eleanor hurriedly adjusted their clothes, sharing soft, breathless laughs as they straightened themselves out. Draco ran a hand through his hair, and Eleanor smoothed her top, a faint blush still lingering on her cheeks. The sounds of the battle were growing fainter, and a sense of urgency returned as they prepared to face whatever came next.

**SMUT OVER**

Hand in hand, they sprinted down the corridor and emerged into the courtyard just in time to see something surreal. Voldemort, the Dark Lord who had terrorized their world for so long, was disintegrating before their eyes. Ashes swirled in the air, dissolving into nothing as he crumbled into dust.

Draco and Eleanor exchanged a wide-eyed glance, the weight of the moment settling in.

"Did we miss everything?" Eleanor whispered, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

Draco chuckled softly, his gaze flicking between the remnants of Voldemort and the battle-worn survivors scattered across the courtyard. "No... we weren't that long," he replied, amusement in his voice despite the chaos that had just unfolded.

Before either of them could say more, a familiar voice shouted across the courtyard. "There you two are!" Blaise called, hurrying toward them with Daphne by his side. "We've been trying to find you for over an hour!"

Draco and Eleanor shared another guilty glance, but neither said a word. They didn't have to. The secret between them was clear enough.

The tension in the air was slowly lifting, the screams and flashes of curses that had once filled the castle fading into an eerie silence. The war was over. They had won.

The courtyard filled with murmurs of disbelief and cautious hope as people began to gather around the ashes that once were Voldemort. Eleanor spotted Harry standing with Hermione and Ron, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. Her heart swelled with relief as she crossed the courtyard, Draco still at her side, his hand warm in hers.

She reached Harry first, throwing her arms around him. "You did it!" she breathed, her voice thick with emotion.

Harry hugged her back, his laugh soft and incredulous. "I didn't do it alone."

"You never were alone," Eleanor whispered, stepping back and giving him a look of pure admiration. "You were never alone, Harry. And you never will be."

Hermione stepped forward next, pulling Eleanor into a tight embrace, her eyes shining with tears. "It's over," Hermione whispered, and Eleanor nodded, her throat tight with emotion.

"It's really over," Eleanor repeated, her voice soft with disbelief. For so long, they had lived in fear, in constant battle. And now, it was done. The weight of that reality hadn't fully settled in yet, but the promise of peace—of freedom—was almost overwhelming.

Ron grinned at her, pulling her into a brotherly hug. "We made it, El. We all made it."

Eleanor's gaze flickered to Draco, standing slightly apart, his expression unreadable. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes as he watched her family reunite. He didn't belong here. Not with them. Not after everything.

But Eleanor wouldn't let that stand. She turned to her family, clearing her throat. "Mum, Dad, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Draco stiffened beside her as she gently tugged him forward. The Weasleys turned to face them, and for a moment, there was only silence. Draco looked like he was bracing himself for the worst, his jaw tight, shoulders squared. He was ready for the hatred he knew he deserved.

But it never came.

Instead, Molly Weasley, with tears still streaking down her face, stepped forward and wrapped Draco in a warm, motherly hug. Draco froze, stunned, before he slowly relaxed into the embrace, blinking in disbelief.

"Thank you," Molly whispered into his ear, her voice soft but firm. "Thank you for standing by my daughter's side."

Draco's throat worked as he struggled to find words, his eyes wide as he looked over Molly's shoulder at Eleanor, who was smiling softly. "I... I don't know what to say," Draco finally managed, his voice thick with emotion.

"You don't have to say anything," Arthur Weasley added, offering Draco a firm nod. "Actions speak louder than words, son."

The acceptance was more than Draco had ever expected. He glanced at Eleanor, his eyes shining with gratitude and disbelief. She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently, and he knew, in that moment, that he was no longer alone either.

The war was over, but the aftermath was only just beginning. The courtyard was filled with bittersweet reunions, joyful tears, and the quiet grief for those who hadn't made it. But in that moment, there was hope. There was freedom.

Eleanor stood beside Draco, surrounded by her family and friends, her heart full as they faced the uncertain future together. For the first time in what felt like forever, she knew they would be okay.

The battle was won, but the real victory was in the life that awaited them now. A life where they could truly be free.