Draco found himself staring out the same window the next day. He tried to imagine her here. She'd have wanted to cavort in the snow and lecture him about simple pleasures. Her hair would have erupted in a riot of curls when he stole her hat. Rubbing his chest absently, he let himself drift into a lovely eidolon where she was with him.

A loud crash drew him from his reverie. He glanced about and saw the elves were still fixing the place up. Avoiding them meant leaving.

He didn't want to go into the town or explore parts of the house they had yet to touch. He stroked his finger along the chilled glass. His life had become one endless list of things he did not want to do. His sleep was disturbed time and again by memories of that last horrible night. Moving about made his joints ache. He couldn't think of a single, truly pleasant thing in his life.

He didn't want to eat lunch, but the elves had grown rather commanding and would not take no for an answer.

He'd spooned soup into his mouth without tasting it. He heard the melodic arguments occurring around him, but let the elves alone. He didn't want to lose himself in the trappings of his ancestors. He'd learned how little such things were worth.

The soft bed and warm blankets didn't keep him from waking up shivering and screaming out her name. He could barely stand the sound of his own voice. It was easier to continue on in silence.

The elves were decorating, but he didn't care for the glittering silver garlands and green ornaments. It was wasted on him. He stroked the ruffled petals of the peonies as he passed by the opulence to look out the one window that mattered.

The deep blue of late afternoon made the snow seem all the brighter and helped him notice the shadows of tracks against the unrelenting white. The depressions in the snow didn't come to the house, but he could see them clearly leading into the forest. One of the elves lifted the vase of peonies and that song filled the air again. He turned to yell at the creature and then stilled.

"In the forest, tower, bells, bed." He muttered as he tried to remember the song. "Down in yon forest."

He stared out the window and blinked. The forest stretched down the mountain and into the valley from where he stood. Her favorite flowers. The song her mother sang.

"Down in yon forest." He summoned his cloak and transfigured his shoes into boots.

He was out the door and into the bitter cold in a moment. The snow was powdery and whirled about on small eddies of air as he passed by. Some part of him knew this was folly, but he couldn't help but hope.

Following the trail through the woods wasn't difficult, but it was far too easy to give into his thoughts. He remembered seeing her die. He remembered Weasley and Potter. They were both lost in their grief. He pushed on, but the weight of his doubts and the physical effort required of his still feeble body were slowing him.

He saw light ahead and stopped. There was a clearing. It was obvious even from his place in the trees.

He leaned against a tree trunk and stared toward the fading light. Hermione had been the one to push forward. She was the one that had kept his hope alive. That bit of fading light held answers. He knew it in his bones.

"The truth is the truth." He looked up at the canopy of snow and branches. "This will make no difference."

He pushed away from the tree and looked back. It was a long walk. He was tired.

Bells rang. Bright and clarion, they set the birds to flight. He turned back and saw a feminine form outlined against the darkening blues.

It had to be an illusion.

He glanced back into the dark forest. There was nothing for him back there but an empty house. He turned back toward the light and surged forward. Each step felt like torture. His muscles were atrophied, but he ignored the weakness. The lingering sun danced on the snow and across the features of a small blonde girl. Her wavy hair fell around her shoulders and framed her wind kissed face.

He blinked. She looked like a blonde Hermione. He fell to his knees.

"Mummy." The little girl screamed and a familiar form stepped toward him.

He could only focus clearly on the blue mittens. If he was dying or dreaming, he didn't care. His love was with him.

"Hermione." He pushes her name over his thickening tongue. "I've missed you."

He felt her magic grab and lift him and saw the blonde girl run by him toward an odd blue tower.

"Aunty Luna." The girl called. "Aunty Luna. Daddy is here. He's finally here."

He blinked.

"I was pregnant." Hermione smiles down at him. "I faked dying with a potion. I thought you'd go, but they caught you anyway."

"You were gone." He mumbled as she lifted him a bit higher and passed him through the doorway into a warm room. "I saw you fall."

"Neville stunned me right after I swallowed the potion. He helped Luna and Rolph sneak me out and revive me." Hermione flicked her wand and he felt his body right itself, but she didn't release the spell. He relaxed and let her magic hold his weight. "I wanted to go back for you, but I had to focus on Miranda. The pregnancy wasn't easy."

"I've put fresh sheets on the bed." Luna Lovegood stepped down the stairs. "I'll keep Miranda here until you get settled. It's good to see you home, Draco."

He nodded slowly and wondered briefly if he was lying face down in a snow drift. He couldn't escape the thought that this was all a dream. He felt the nudge of Hermione's magic and turned toward the stairs. It was narrow and steep, but she kept him safe as they ascended to the top floor. He took a deep breath and caught the scent of mulled cider and Hermione. It was heavenly.

"You're not dead, Draco." Hermione banished his clothes and slid him in between warmed flannel sheets. "I wanted to get you out of that place, but Luna outsmarted me. She got your Aunt Andromeda to trap me here with a spell. That is one powerful witch."

"It's the Black blood." Draco sighed and settled into the bed. She passed him a mug of cider and smiled as he drank deeply. He felt the pull of sleep almost immediately.

"It's a mild sleeping draught." Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. "You need rest."

Darkness settled over his mind. He was warm and loved and safe. He

Let himself drift into a deep sleep.

"But Daddy will like my blue foxes." He heard his daughter's voice. "You know he will."

"I do, Darling." Hermione sounded like she was smiling. "But he needs his sleep. The healing potion takes time to work."

"He must have lots wrong." He felt the brush of her little hand against his cheek. "He's been sleeping for days."

"Your father will wake when his body is healed and not a second faster." Hermione's scent wafted over him. He let himself drift a bit as their conversation continued. He took a deep breath and felt no pain. He'd forgotten that such a thing was possible.

He opened his eyes and looked up at a navy ceiling covered in golden stars. His own constellation was easy to pick out. It wasn't charmed. She'd painted the ceiling and crafted the stars.

He turned and watched his daughter and the love of his life play on the floor with two well loved toy foxes. The cold that had become his life was gone. Here was his hope.

"Daddy's awake." His daughter's bright blue eyes focused on him. "In time for Christmas."

She bounced around the room as he locked eyes with Hermione. She was more beautiful now than she ever had been. Her quiet strength and gentle smile filled him with such hope for their future.

"Miranda, come meet your father properly." Hermione stood in one smooth movement and approached him slowly.

"Shakespeare?" Draco smirked.

"The innermost moon of Uranus and Shakespeare." Hermione grinned.

Draco sat up and his daughter crawled up into his lap.

"I'm a tempest is a teapot." She smiled up at him. "I've been waiting on you."

"I'm sorry." Draco stroked back a wild, blonde curl. "But, I am home to stay."

Author's Note

I could have gone on and on with this. I love their little tower in the woods. Aunty Luna assures me that they will be happy. There will be snoopy dancing and carol singing. Some day a dark haired man will some to visit. Miranda and her five siblings will drive him spare. There will be love and forgiveness in their house always.

Merry Christmas,

Anna