Okay, readers! Firstly I know this update is super late. I've been consistent throughout with my posting but then for some reason life just got in the way the last fortnight. Apologies.

Secondly, this is in fact the final chapter. So I hope it leaves you nice and satisfied!

As always, JKR is the one to whom we owe our inspiration.

Thank you and enjoy!

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Chapter Twenty-One

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Hermione sat with her chin resting indolently on one hand at the bottom of the great staircase. She was exhausted. The battle had gone all through the night and into the morning, but even Harry's glorious victory hadn't offered any physical relief for the weary fighters. Even amidst the buoyant burst of happiness that filled the castle, there was still the issue of those who had died in the fight. They needed to get straight to work and move the bodies, as well as organise the left over Death Eaters who had surrendered to them. Nobody could move on until they had paid respect to those who had sacrificed their lives in the battle.

But now Hermione felt ready to drop off to sleep even as she just rested her eyes for a moment. The house elves had been a huge help, moving the dead into the Great Hall and laying them out with honour until representatives from the Ministry arrived to process them. But Hermione had cried too many tears and her eyes were still stinging, her jaw still aching and her features were gaunt.

Once they had laid Aberforth to rest properly, Draco had wandered off with Snape somewhere. The two of them had needed to identify the death eaters who surrendered and now they were deep in discussion about something, having joined up with Harry a little while ago. The unlikely combination of the two infamous Slytherins chatting easily with the Chosen One had drawn a lot of attention from the few aurors and Ministry workers who had arrived. Clearly someone would have to explain what had happened properly in due course. Shortly after Harry had repaired his old wand up in Dumbledore's office, he had filled them in on a few details they'd missed. Mostly how Snape had continued to play a crucial role in fooling Voldemort right to the end, declaring that Harry was dead and allowing him to sneak back to the castle without suspicion. Both Slytherins had more than proved themselves worthy of honour in the battle. It seemed as though Colin Creevey had found a new person to idolize in Draco, and people seemed to keep whispering in hushed, awed voices when Snape passed by. Or at least they had been. Now many had started to go home, to lick their wounds and recuperate.

Hermione sighed, wishing that she could go home…

But where was home now?

Her parents still had their memories wiped and were living overseas in anonymity. The Weasleys had all accompanied Fred to St Mungos to watch over him together, so the Burrow wasn't an option. Not that she particularly wanted to be surrounded by people right now, and that tended to be a very full house. And she'd rather sleep right here on the rubble-strewn floor than go back to that damn tent again. She supposed she didn't really have a home now.

Her maudlin thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Harry and Draco.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, moving to sit next to her and running one hand gently across her back.

"Yeh, I'm fine," she replied drowsily, "just ready to sleep for about forty hours."

"That sounds perfect right now," he agreed with a tired grin of his own.

"Did Snape leave?" she asked, looking around for any sign of the dark wizard.

"Yeh," Harry told her, shuffling awkwardly in front of them as Draco moved to wrap his arm around her shoulders, "he said he doesn't want to set foot in this castle again for another fifty years."

Hermione chuckled weakly. She leaned into the blond Slytherin at her side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I don't blame him. Did you find your mother?" she asked Draco, peering up to look into his chilly grey eyes. He looked pretty damn exhausted too. They all did.

Draco's face immediately shuttered down and his expression crumpled. She responded quickly, leaning into him and grasping his hand in hers. Harry lowered his head, his cheeks flushing sheepishly, probably not comfortable intruding on their private moment.

"She…she…" Draco's voice trailed off and he sighed, rubbing his other hand over his face.

"Oh my god. She didn't-" Hermione's eyes shot up to Harry's in alarm, wondering if the woman had been killed in the final battle. The brown haired boy shook his head hurriedly. He knew what she was trying to ask.

"No, she's alive," Harry reassured her. Beside her, Draco let out a long breath to gather his nerves and finally worked up the strength to explain.

"The aurors are processing her now. She was arrested. They'll probably take her to Azkaban."

"Did you talk to her?" she asked anxiously, fearing for Draco's peace of mind. She could tell he was miserable about it already.

"Yeh I did," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair, "I told her what happened to Lucius. She freaked out. Slapped me right across the face."

He gestured to the cheek on his other side, turning it slightly towards her. Only then was she able to notice the pink tinge to his skin.

"Oh Draco-" she sighed sadly, wishing that it hadn't come to this.

"I was going to try and reason with her, make her see sense. She was never a devout follower of V…Vo…Voldemort," he managed to stumble his way through the name now that it was no longer taboo and the man himself was finally dead, "I thought maybe she'd be…I dunno… be glad that I was alive, I suppose. That Lucius didn't kill me," he finished glumly. Hermione's hand tightened on his.

"The aurors stepped in to restrain her when she struck him," Harry finished, taking over when Draco became too emotional, "so that put an end to any conversation unfortunately."

Hermione frowned, watching as the blond boy next to her hung his head. She knew he was struggling with the guilt of what he'd done to his father. But he was also free now, and it shone through him like daylight. She wanted to reassure him but wasn't sure how.

"Oy Harry!"

Their chat was interrupted by the excited voice of Neville Longbottom, waving madly at the Chosen One from across the hall. He was probably the only person left in the castle who still seemed to be buzzing with energy. He'd been invaluable during the clean up. Sometime in the last year the once socially clumsy boy had blossomed into a true leader.

"Coming, mate!"

Harry gave them a small grimace of apology. But before he turned to head in Neville's direction, he paused.

"You know… you two should really get out of here. Start recovering."

"Are you sure, Harry? You'll be alright?" she asked worriedly, cocking her head to the side and observing her friend closely. When had he grown up so much?

"Yeh. There's nothing more to do here and I'm gonna head to the Burrow to see Ginny once the Weasleys are done at St Mungos. Seriously. Go home."

She nodded, rising to her feet with a watery smile. Her and Harry met in the middle as she launched herself at him, pulling each other into a tight hug. They held on for a long time, expressing everything that couldn't be said with words. After a long time, she released him and he stepped back. He looked upset, and held onto her hand a moment longer.

"Thank you," he whispered under his breath, "For everything. I love you."

"And I love you," she croaked, watching him turn slowly and walk away. Then she sunk back down on the step next to Draco. He looked sideways at her, one eyebrow raised.

"You two are close," he commented, but there was no real sting to his voice. It was possible that he was too tired to be properly jealous right now. That was definitely a topic for another day.

"We are. And he's right. We should go home."

Draco was silent for a long time.

"Where is home?" he asked slowly after a while. Hermione frowned.

"I'm not sure. Unless…"

A strange thought occurred to her and she smiled.

"What?" he prompted.

"Well, we could go sleep in our attic room. Just for tonight. It's nearby. And I'm not prepared for a long apparition right now."

Draco blinked, his eyebrows drawing together as he considered this.

"But… Aberforth-"

"Would be the first person to bully us into getting some rest! I don't think he'd mind, do you?"

"No I guess not," he mused thoughtfully. They both knew the grumpy old wizard would undoubtedly welcome them into his pub. He'd probably be the biggest and most sullen advocate for them to get some sleep before they fell flat on their tired faces. Draco smiled softly as he came to the same conclusion as her.

"I think I'd like that. To spend one more night living under the old man's watchful gaze."

She nodded, reaching over to take his hand. He grasped it back tightly. Together they stood and looked out on the scene of destruction before them that used to be the grand entrance hall. Then Draco turned to her, lifting her chin up and giving her a tender kiss.

"And what about tomorrow?" he asked softly as their lips brushed.

Hermione grinned.

"Tomorrow we do whatever we like," she told him.

And that was the truth of it. They were both free now to build whatever future they wanted. And it looked brighter than ever.

…

…

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Epilogue

…

5 years later

Draco dragged his feet as he climbed the steps towards the front door of the townhouse in London where he lived with Hermione. He sighed with relief as he saw the flickering of light inside which signalled that she was already home. He needed her tonight, and the sight of the orange glow of the fireplace in the front room filled him with warmth. They'd bought the beautiful brick building a couple of years ago and it had swiftly become a sanctuary for them; somewhere safe from the wizarding world where they could just be together and be a family. They'd overcome a lot the last few years and they both relished the private haven they'd created together where they could unwind in peace.

The Daily Prophet had almost had a riot when they first printed the story that the muggleborn princess of Gryffindor was romantically connected to a former Death Eater and the heir of Lucius Malfoy's pureblood empire. Rita Skeeter in particular had been brutal at first, before she suddenly stopped writing malicious stories about them after Hermione had approached her office one day for a private chat. Clearly something had been said to change the woman's mind, and Hermione had come home looking rather smug that day. Draco didn't doubt that she had directly manipulated the bitch. His Gryffindor witch was like a little hellcat when she wanted to get her way.

As he tapped his wand on the front door to enter through their wards, Draco drew in a deep breath and tried to push away his jumbled thoughts and memories. It had been an incredibly difficult day, and all he wanted was to collapse somewhere warm and put his arms around the woman he loved.

As he entered the home, he noticed that there was a soft carol playing in the background, something slow and sweet. With a frown of confusion he shrugged off his winter coat and approached the living room. The house was furnished expensively, but still held a sort of cosy charm that was all due to Hermione's efforts. It had taken a long time for her to accept that he was wealthy. His father hadn't yet removed him from the family trust before that final battle (probably hoping that Draco would die a horrible death instead) so he'd been left almost the entire inheritance. Aside from a sizable portion of the Black family assets that had remained with Narcissa. And for the first couple of years, Hermione had felt almost uncomfortable with him spending money on them both or accepting extravagant gifts. She still was a bit awkward about it at times. But it was becoming more natural for her, especially since they had moved into the townhouse. She'd rejected all his normal luxuries and the opulent design, of course, but had quickly established a more simple, sophisticated charm, with all the quirks one would expect of the cosy home of two rather brainy nerds. In fact, as he entered the living room his eyes were drawn fondly to the enormous sprawl of bookshelves lining the walls, perfectly categorised of course. It gave the whole place a homely feeling, he thought.

But then he noticed something new. Strung up in festive colours around the room were beautiful Christmas garlands. Some gold charms dangled down from the chandelier and there was a pine tree propped up regally in one corner near the fireplace. It was unadorned with Hermione's usual baubles, but he knew she liked to wait for his help each year.

Draco drank it in, feeling the weight already lifting from his shoulders after his emotionally draining day.

"Hermione?" he called curiously, not seeing her in the room despite the merrily crackling fire.

"Oh!"

He heard her exclaim from the other room before her head popped around the corner of the doorframe. There was a streak of flour on one cheek and her hair was tied back in a messy bun. She'd obviously been baking. He liked to tease her about her "Christmas Frenzy," as he'd coined it, each year. She went truly mad over the holiday season, but he hadn't realised it was already December. She always went into her frenzy on the first of the month.

"You're home!" she cried happily, dusting off her hands before leaping into the room to throw her arms around him. Draco held her to him firmly, pulling her in close and breathing in the smell of her hair as he clung to her. After an awkwardly long time had passed, Hermione cleared her throat and tilted her head back to look at him with curious eyes.

"You're sad," she declared, her expression screwed up in concern. It wasn't even a question. She knew his moods too well by now. Draco reluctantly nodded. He allowed her to tug him over to the couch where they sat side by side.

"What happened? What did she say to you?" Hermione asked him gently, her lovely brown eyes drawing him in and letting him just breathe properly for the first time all day. And yet, even though they were right next to each other, he wanted to be closer to her. His body was craving hers.

"I…I need you," he murmured self-consciously, his cheeks flushing as he reached out a trembling hand towards her. But Hermione just nodded with a loving smile, immediately moving to embrace him. With a nimble grace he admired, she slid up to perch on her knees and then moved onto his lap. She was straddling him, but not in a sexual way, just wrapping herself around him as their foreheads pressed together. He took a few deep breaths, brushing aside his embarrassment and just revelling in the intimacy of the position. It had been years since they'd started their relationship, but it still got to him sometimes. The hunger for human contact. He still suffered from a desperate need to be held and touched. After a bad day, Hermione would stroke his skin like she used to, or sometimes they would entwine their bodies like this in a picture of comfort. It felt right. As though he could absorb her soul into his own and heal himself with her goodness.

What was truly strange to get used to was the reality that his life was different now. He touched people regularly these days. Potter shook his hand frequently, or clapped him on the back. Ginny kissed his cheek in greeting. And Hermione's mother positively suffocated him sometimes with her affectionate hugs and gestures. The two muggle dentists had returned from overseas with their memories restored about a year after the war. Severus had been an enormous help to Hermione in teaching her how to reverse her memory modification charms. He'd also assisted in explaining the whole sorry history to the Grangers after they'd come back. The dour older wizard had left them in no doubt about the very real dangers they would have faced without Hermione's intervention. He'd probably scared them half to death.

At first her parents hadn't been exactly thrilled with their very young daughter moving in with a boy from school before she'd even technically graduated, one who'd bullied her ruthlessly for years, no less. They had worried that she was too young, and they weren't sure what to think of him either, not after finding out who exactly he was from her days at Hogwarts. But over time the young couple had proven themselves. They had stood strong and united, and it was painfully clear to the Grangers soon just how much he adored their only daughter. After a brief, award phase he was welcomed with open arms. The first Christmas he'd spent at their table, eating their food and opening truly thoughtful gifts as they laughed and told lame muggle jokes off slips of paper had been one of the happiest times of his life. The fact that these two muggles could show him so much love after only knowing him a few months compared to his own parents and his entire miserable life before that… well, it certainly succeeded in melting away any last vestiges of doubt or prejudice that had been instilled into him as a child.

With a long sigh, Draco reached up to tangle one hand in Hermione's hair just underneath her messy bun. He used the grip to gently tug her head back and kiss her once, softly, on the lips.

"Draco, talk to me," she murmured, her brown eyes blinking slowly in concern as she observed him. He reached between them and grasped her hand, fiddling distractedly with the ring that glittered there.

"Mother is…doing fine," he told her, reflecting anxiously on his visit to the manor that day, "she's managed to settle in more than the last time I was there."

Draco closed his eyes and shivered as he thought of how it had felt to be back in that house again. It had brought back a lot of memories, both of his depressing childhood and the more horrific trauma from when Voldemort took up residence there.

It had stood empty for several years, but earlier in the summer Narcissa had finally been released from Azkaban, having served a short sentence in response to her role as a follower of Tom Riddle. She had been treated lightly compared to others. She'd never taken the dark mark, and her involvement had been more passive than the full-blown death eaters.

The first time Draco had gone to visit her had been…odd. They'd been clearly uncomfortable around each other, and hardly a word had been spoken beyond pleasantries and clumsy questions about her well-being. It was like she was pretending that nothing had happened. Draco had left feeling like he didn't really belong there, which was true he supposed. She hardly inspired feelings of filial affection with her cold manner.

This second time, however, had been significantly more troubling. With a long exhale he gripped Hermione's hand tighter, gazing down at the elegant diamond ring that adorned her finger and letting it give him courage.

"She was…well… let's just say the news of our engagement wasn't as well received by her as it was by your parents."

"That bad, huh?" Hermione asked him. He saw that she tried not to appear too bothered by the knowledge that this kind of pureblood prejudice still existed, but he could tell she was disappointed.

"I tried to tell her that those kinds of views were not appropriate anymore, not since the war ended. But she just insisted this was a 'phase' and I'd get over it soon enough. As if being with a muggleborn is something I just need to get out of my system…"

Hermione visibly cringed.

"Really?"

"Yeh, she told me I should be… ashamed… to bring a girl like you into the family."

He swallowed and tightened his grip on her hand.

"Draco," she began, her voice soft and mournful, "I'm so sorry-"

"Don't," he insisted, "please don't apologise. I'm the one who should be sorry. Her opinion doesn't mean anything to me, I hope you know that. And if my mother has a problem with it then she won't be a part of our life, and that's a promise!"

"She's your mother-" Hermione began.

"No," he interrupted, correcting her, "she's the woman who gave birth to me. A real mother wouldn't… be so callous. Or treat me the way she has done all these years. You must know that Jean is more of a mother to me now than Narcissa ever was."

Hermione nodded slowly, waiting patiently for him to continue as though sensing he wasn't done yet.

"That was only the start of it, though. Before I could even deal with that particular issue, she decided to bring up Lucius."

"Oh no…" Hermione groaned quietly.

"Oh yes," he confirmed dryly, her jaw clenching with tension at the memory of what she'd said, "apparently she's been struggling to understand why I… why I…killed him."

He felt Hermione inch closer, pressing herself more firmly against him in sympathy. He continued,

"She seemed to think that I hadn't given him a chance. That I was the one who had torn our family apart. My betrayal. My anger. She couldn't figure out why it had to end the way it did. She told me I was a stain on the family's honour."

"I can't believe it," Hermione whispered, shaking her head and looking positively outraged. Draco could only nod glumly in agreement.

"Neither can I. I tried to reason with her. I tried to make her see that he was the one who had ruined us. But it was no good. I had to get out of there."

"Oh Draco…"

"Needless to say I won't be visiting for a while," he sighed and leaned back, running the back of his fingers down over Hermione's cheek.

"That's terrible," she told him, blinking back tears, "I knew something was wrong. Her letter was so…stilted and formal."

He nodded and they both fell into a melancholy silence, wrapped tight in each other's arms. The carol playing from the nearby speakers wound to a close and a new, more upbeat one began to play. Somewhere in the background he could hear the clang of trays and knew Dobby was retrieving the freshly baked gingerbread from the oven, which Hermione had clearly forgotten about in her desire to comfort him. He smiled tightly, glad that the elf was finally getting to enjoy a happy home. Dobby still insisted on being paid a fairly paltry salary despite their attempts to negotiate a higher rate. But still…he belonged here with them. And Hermione always found ways to trick him into accepting bonuses and paid leave time off work.

"Don't forget, Severus is coming for dinner tonight," Hermione told him eventually, her voice muffled against his shirt collar.

Draco chuckled, his mood lifting a little bit more with every moment he spent in her arms.

"You and Severus are a scary combination," he told her lightly, running his fingers down her back and up again along the stretch of her neck.

"Really?" she asked with a laugh.

"I don't know of any other people who can talk so intently about complicated potions for so long."

"He's a knowledgeable man," she admitted with a smirk, "and slightly less of a bastard than he used to be."

"Oh he's still a massive bastard! But I think he's rather fond of you, actually," Draco told her, as though he were sharing a big secret.

And it was true too he thought. Severus often spent nights at their place, having dinners and catching up over a game of chess. He was still as snarky as always, but now that the war had ended and he was no longer obligated to play the role of the spy, he seemed to genuinely want to seek out their company. Maybe he was just as alone as Draco had been all those years ago. And once Hermione and Severus had become more comfortable in each other's presence, they had struck up a very cordial acquaintance. It was nice, he thought. And he couldn't wait to tell the older wizard about their engagement. He knew Snape would be happy for them, in his own way.

Potter and Ginny had been thrilled. His former nemesis was now a regular at their house. They had weekly dinners together, sometimes combining with Weasley and his most recent flame as well, or sometimes just the four of them. Although he couldn't quite warm to Weasley as much, he and Potter got on surprisingly well. The two still bickered and squabbled constantly, but now there was an almost affectionate edge to it. It was more teasing and less hurtful. He supposed the boy-who-lived wasn't so bad, after all, he begrudgingly admitted. He was like a brother to Hermione. In fact, Draco thought he might even make him a groomsman at the wedding. Not that they'd set a date yet or really discussed the details.

The two of them sat quietly for a while longer, both of their thoughts occupied as they stroked and caressed each other unconsciously. It wasn't until he noticed Hermione shiver pleasantly under his ministrations that he cleared his throat to speak again. There was something that had been nagging at his mind all week, and he wanted to talk to her about it while they were together like this.

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm?" she sighed contentedly in reply, not really concentrating as she absorbed his touches.

"I was wondering… about when we get married."

"Were you?" she hummed, her voice a bit distant.

"Yes. And I was just… would you mind if… if we…uh…well…"

He stumbled over the words a bit, causing her to lean back, her attention captured now as she blinked curiously at him.

"What's wrong?" she asked him sweetly, running a thumb over the tense line of his jaw.

"Have you given any thought to our… our new name?"

Hermione cocked her head to one side.

"You mean Malfoy?"

"Yeh…"

"I haven't really considered it," she told him with a frown. They both knew that the wizarding world was still very much a traditional place, even a little bit antiquated. It was expected that the woman would change her name upon getting married.

"I've been thinking about it. A lot," he told her, "And I've decided that… I don't want us to be Malfoys."

That definitely got her attention. She sat further upright on his lap, and he moved to encircle her waist in his arms as she stared at him.

"What?"

"I don't think you should change your name to Hermione Malfoy."

"But… it's tradition-"

"To hell with tradition," he grumbled, gazing up at her with wide, solemn eyes, "You shouldn't have to take the name of a family that has done nothing but hurt you and look down on you with disdain."

"I can think of one Malfoy who's quite nice…" she told him with a shy smile and he chuckled quietly.

"Yes well… I'm sick of people hearing my name and immediately thinking of my father. Of labelling me as something I'm not and making assumptions about the kind of person I am."

"I'm sure it will pass in time," she reassured him a bit weakly, as though she knew as well as he did that it wasn't true, "and besides, you can try and turn it around, make it a name that means something good."

"But it doesn't," he argued in a pained voice, "not to me. Never to me. I used to want to live up to the Malfoy name so bad, but now it just leaves me feeling sick to my stomach."

Hermione observed him thoughtfully for a long moment, before running a hand tenderly through his blond hair. He shuddered.

"So what do you suggest?" she asked with a puzzled frown.

"Well…" he began, feeling a little nervous as he did, "If it's alright with you, and your parents of course, I was hoping that maybe we could be Mr and Mrs Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly as she considered this.

"Oh! I mean… I would be fine with that… but Draco, you'd be giving up your family name. I know how important that is in the pureblood community."

"Exactly! Isn't it about time someone shook things up a bit?" he joked, before his expression turned solemn, "But seriously… I'm not being too hasty here. I've thought about it. Not just today, but ever since I spoke to your father last month about us getting engaged. He made some throwaway comment about 'The Malfoys' and it just sounded wrong. I want us to be a proper family. I want us to carry on a name that stands for something good."

Hermione smiled gently at him.

"So you want to be Draco Granger?" she asked him with a slight chuckle.

"I really… really do," he told her with such genuine feeling in his voice that she actually blinked in shock.

"Well… okay, Draco. If that's what you want, then I'd be more than happy to be the Grangers," she murmured softly, "I never cared about the name anyway. I just want to be with you and I want the world to know that we belong to each other."

Draco launched himself forwards and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. She responded instantly, tangling her hands in his blond hair. He tugged her forwards impatiently, grasping her hips and moving her purposefully over the bulge that had been slowly growing against his trousers since the moment she first slipped on top of him.

When they both needed to part to catch their breath, Draco dropped his head to press kisses down her neck. She tasted like flour and cinnamon and he smiled against her racing pulse.

"We should stop," she panted, though that didn't prevent her from squirming in a frustratingly arousing way on top of him, "Severus will be here soon."
"What time is he getting here?" he asked as he let his kisses drift even lower to the collar of her jumper.

'Unngrgh…" she moaned distractedly, checking her watch over his shoulder, "about half an hour."

Draco smirked.

"Plenty of time," he declared, before standing up suddenly, his grip around Hermione's waist tightening as he carried her in the direction of the bedroom.

As he paused halfway down the corridor to press her into the wall, Draco felt a wave of happiness spread through him. He hadn't thought it was possible to feel such uninhabited delight, especially not so soon after leaving the debacle that had been his trip to the manor. But this was what Hermione did to him. She gave him hope and love and everything else he hadn't known he'd been missing until she literally fell into his life.

He thought of the Christmas present waiting patiently at Professor McGonagall's place, which he'd already prepared for Hermione even though December 25th was still more than three weeks away. The new Headmistress had gladly accepted the task he'd requested a few days ago of finding an intelligent familiar he could gift his fiancée with for Christmas. The half-kneazle kitten was a patchwork of white and black fur and, at only two months old, was ready to imprint onto its first human.

Thinking of how happy she would be when he surprised her on Christmas day, Draco laughed and stumbled along the corridor to their bedroom, kissing every inch of skin he could reach as he paused under a few scattered sprigs of mistletoe.

Hermione had given him everything, he realised, although it certainly wasn't the first time he'd thought this.

And now it was his turn.

He vowed to himself that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

Starting now.

…

…

…

Okay so I went pretty fluffy there for the ending. It felt right. And that's it! That's the end of the story.

Thank you for coming along for the ride. I hope you enjoyed it. Would love to hear your thoughts and whether you liked it.

Until we meet again…