Nishizono Shinji (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} nishizono) wrote,@ 2007-09-30 13:15:00 |
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| Entry tags: | rating: nc-17, series: i wager, threesome:ss/dm/hp |
I Wager, Epilogue
Title: I Wager (Epilogue)
Author: nishizono
Pairing: Severus/Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine
Summary: Every story has an ending.
Author's Notes: Writing this has been a frustrating, amusing, enlightening, and exhausting experience. I want to thank everyone who's stayed with this story for the last year. Thank you for your patience, your feedback, and for helping me turn what was meant to be a five chapter PWP into something more.
“Every story has an ending.”
“But this isn't ours.”
“I guess we all kind of thought Voldemort would be it, but I learned something that night: our story isn't defined by his life or death, and somehow that makes this seem a little bit more real.”
“Of course, some things are never going to change.”
“Severus is still a snarky bastard, and Draco is still an arrogant prat.”
“You forgot to mention that you're still a clueless twit.”
“Says the man who still talks to the people on television like they can hear you.”
“That's rich, coming from the idiot who tripped over his own feet at his best friend's wedding and singlehandedly destroyed a three hundred galleon cake.”
“You know, I'm just about tired of your face, Malfoy.”
“Not nearly as tired as I am of yours, you mutilated freak.”
“Or you could both shut up and get on with it before the rest of us expire of old age-- and wouldn't that be a dramatic ending for our little tale?”
“Hmph.”
“I'd rather it be old age than one of us getting eaten by a basilisk or something.”
“And tell me, Mister Potter, on what occasion, exactly, would one of us be facing a basilisk? I do hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your days of championing Gryffindor stupidity are over.”
“Actually, I beg to differ.”
“Didn't Severus tell you to shut up?”
“Oh for Merlin's sake-”
“That means get on with it, Potter.”
“Er- where was I?”
“You were being nostalgic, moving straight ahead into maudlin, if I recall.”
“Oh, right. So yeah, things really haven't changed all that much. We rode into battle together, then carried each other home again. For awhile there, we weren't sure all of us would make it, but here we are, telling our story, so it obviously worked out okay. We're still together, but who knows how long that will last.”
“Really Potter, I would have expected you to show a bit more faith than that after seven years of enduring the company of two Slytherins.”
“Well, you never know when it comes to you guys.”
“Thank you ever so much for that vote of confidence. It's just as well; I never tire of seeing the look on your face when your naïve suppositions are proven incorrect.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourself there, Snape-- almost sounds like a challenge.”
“That's definitely a challenge. Up for a friendly bet, Severus?”
“Any bet with the two of you is certain to be anything but friendly. However, I wouldn't be opposed to hearing whatever predictions your fickle imagination has conjured.”
“Personally, I say we're done before the year is out. What do you think Harry?”
“I think I should have learned my lesson the last time I made a bet with you two, but I give it three more years at the most. Your turn, Snape.”
“Yeah, let's have it.”
“I daresay I may be plagued by the two of you indefinitely.”
“...”
“Er.”
“And just how much are you willing to bet?”
“Gentlemen, I would wager the rest of my life on it.”
~*~*~
And so our heroes do not ride off into the sunset, nor do they sacrifice their lives for wizarding kind. They do what the rest of us do, and continue on this perilous journey that is life. Harry and Draco will finish their N.E.W.T.S. with passing, if not spectacular marks, and go on to be marginally successful Aurors. Severus will open a small apothecary in Diagon Alley and hire, of all people, Neville Longbottom to manage it. The rest of their lives will be quiet, uneventful, and wholly ordinary.
Do you wonder who will win the final wager?
Well, dear readers, none can say at the time of this publication. But the scoreboard tacked to the wall of a tiny kitchen somewhere in the South of London reads:
Severus: 3
Brats: 0
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