ACT III

Part 1

As soon as his mother left, Draco collapsed against couch. Try as he might, he could not stop the crashing waves of despair that were hitting him with tidal force.

He was going to lose Hermione. He knew it.

He would have to tell her the truth and release her from the bond. The doing of it would be achingly simple; all it would take would be for him to speak the words. That was the beauty of ancient power; no complex wand-waving or lengthy incantations were needed with the deepest and oldest of majicks. Declarations had behind them the creative force of the universe. He would call forth her freedom and the words themselves would stop the forces from swinging like a pendulum. The debt would be erased. The compulsion to offer her life, to give him what he needed would be gone.

As would she.

I should have told her about the life debt as soon as I'd heard the nurses speak of it, he chided himself. " What stopped me?"

He knew what had. He'd been hungry for the attention and concern she'd given him. Draco had relished every stroke of her hand, every fluff of his pillow, even those crazy muggle inventions had been welcome because they'd come from her.

Insufferable selfish prick , his inner voice berated in a voice that sounded a lot like Severus Snape. Thinking only of yourself.

Draco wasn't about to argue. He'd always been spoiled. He'd been raised to believe Malfoys deserved the best, and that's what Hermione was. What she'd always been. The best friend of Potter, the best student at Hogwarts, the best date at the Yule ball, the best at showing compassion….

…..the best witch in the world.

She'd been a drink of clean, cool water to his scorched and parched life and he'd greedily swallowed every drop.

Against his will, tears came; hot ones wetting his cheeks while guilt and desire battled within to see which was strongest.

You used her.

I love her.

Irrelevant. When she finds out, she'll despise you.

Would she? Would the soft glow in her eyes turn hard and cold when she discovered the secret he'd been keeping?

He stewed and fretted until he couldn't stand it anymore.

Letting out a scream of pure frustration, he viciously kicked his walker, watching it crash into the coffee table. Not satisfied with that level of destruction, Draco grabbed his wand and blasted the table into splinters.

He couldn't bear to imagine life without Hermione, going through day after miserable day of not seeing her sweet face, her expressive eyes, not hearing her soft voice reading to him or hearing the bell-like music of her laughter during their witty banterings. Despite his injury, the past summer had been the best in his life. She had made it so. Hearing her play the piano…..he'd gotten a beautiful baby grand for the cottage shortly after moving in, just so he could watch her play. She even tried to teach him. He recalled the patient way she placed his trembling fingers on the keyboard, teaching him various chords and their progressions. He remembered the thrilled look of triumph on her face when he'd managed to play a succession of arpeggios, running his untrained fingers up and down the keyboard. It had been one of his good days. She'd clapped delightedly and given him his first of many hugs. Then yesterday…..their affections culminating into passionate kisses, their touches becoming more daring until they both burned, reaching a crescendo of total union.…..

A broken moan left him. God, it hurt.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! his inner voice taunted.

Shut up! he answered back.

He didn't need his conscience accusing him; he knew he'd screwed up. He'd taken Hermione's innocence under false pretenses. Sure, he'd asked her if she was certain she wanted him, but what else could she have said under the compulsion of the life debt? She hadn't had a choice. It had been little better than magical rape.

He'd stolen the purity meant for another.

Thief, his conscience hissed .

Truth was, Draco didn't think anyone was good enough for his witch. He wasn't; the Weasel certainly wasn't. Draco cringed at the idea of that useless prat laying a hand on Hermione. It made him want to vomit to imagine it. No, the ginger dunce didn't deserve her any more than he did. Still, it didn't matter. Draco didn't want anyone else to have her. He wanted her; needed her like air.

He'd fallen helpless to her enchantments, but as with all true magic, it'd come at a price. That was the burden of being magical. There was always a cost involved. He'd taken something innocent for himself. Just like the Dark Lord had done with the blood of the unicorns. He'd been punished for it, and now, so would Draco.

Without Hermione beside him, he would be condemned to live a cursed, half life.

He groaned. He literally felt like he couldn't breathe.

And wondered if he still wanted to.

Hermione knew something was wrong as soon as she apparated back to the cottage. The front door was hanging open; peering inside, she could see Draco's walker turned over on top of the splintered remains of what had been his coffee/cocktail table.

"Draco?" she called out fearfully. The only noise she heard was a faint drip, drip, drip.

"Oh my God," she whispered, suddenly terrified, her imagination painting horrible images in her mind. Grabbing her wand tightly, she entered the cottage, her senses on high alert.

"Lumos," she said as she looked around for any possible intruder. Draco had been a death eater; he'd made enemies. It was possible that someone had come to exact vengeance.

But how would they have gotten through the wards? Not to mention, why would they target Draco when a real death eater could be found nearby and magicless?

Lighting the lamps with a flick of her hand, Hermione went through the cottage, but she didn't find anything else that would suggest a forced entry. She also didn't find Draco. She didn't know what to do or where to go. Then she heard it. A low moan, coming from somewhere behind the cottage. Running out the door, she paused, her eyes wide with fright, trying to see in the dark. Then she heard it again. Another moan, weaker this time. It's was Draco's voice. She turned the corner at the gardening shed, then stopped.

" Draco !" she screamed.

Blood was everywhere.

Healer Robbins sighed, his large frame beginning to ache with weariness. It had been several hours since the young Malfoy lad had been brought in, dead by all appearances. Again.

But fate seemed determined to keep the boy alive. Or perhaps it had been Miss Granger, who had had the presence of mind to put Draco under a stasis charm until the healers at St. Mungo's could stabilize him. But it had not been easy.

He'd suffered a deep wound on his arm by his dark mark and it looked like an attempt had also been made on his neck. But whoever did this had botched the cut there. It just missed his jugular. If his attacker had been successful, there would have been nothing they could have done. Thankfully, he was going to make it. As per custom with this kind of case, he'd made the necessary fire call to the head of magical law enforcement to alert him of an apparent attempted homicide; then he'd returned back to check on his patient's vitals.

Taking one last look at Draco, he took off his bloodied healer's robe and exited the room to bump into Harry Potter.

"Mr. Potter?" Healer Robbins took in the apparel of the wizarding world's savior; he was wearing the dark dragonhide uniform of an Auror on duty. "I didn't know you had become an auror."

"Just a temporary one. I'm still in training, but I asked the minister to give me guard duty for Draco. I was there when your call came through."

The healer smiled. He'd heard the story of the two former enemies during Draco's first stay at the hospital. That Harry had asked for this assignment spoke volumes. "The two of you are friends, aren't you?" It was more a statement than a question.

Harry nodded. "Couldn't help it. He saved my best friend's life."

Healer Robbins chuckled, a weak one that revealed how very tired the older man was. "Well, she saved his tonight, so I guess they're even."

While Harry kept watch outside the room, Hermione and Narcissa kept watch inside. The older witch saw how Hermione's hand trembled when she smoothed Draco's hair from his face. "It…..It was so horrible," she whispered brokenly. "He looked so…..so…" she broke down, crying uncontrollably.

Narcissa immediately wrapped her arms around the distressed witch. "Shh, my dear. Don't think about that. You saved him. That's what matters."

"But what if I hadn't come back when I did? He would have died," she sobbed.

Narcissa continued to hold Hermione, gently rubbing her back in the soothing way mothers had. But inside her mind, her thoughts tumbled chaotically.

The life debt should have been satisfied by her actions. She should feel relief, not…...not this. Merlin help me, has she loved Draco all along?

Narcissa was devastated. The things she'd said to her son were what she'd felt she had to say, not what she'd wanted to say. She had been a victim herself of being under a life debt, was a victim still, and wouldn't wish that life on anyone. She'd only been trying to do what was right. Narcissa recalled her son's face right before she left. Drawn and white, like she had avada'ed his heart. Tears began to slowly trail down her pale cheeks. "My dear," she whispered, "I think I've made a terrible mistake."

Hermione was roused from her fitful slumber in the hospital chair when she heard Draco moan.. A faint light was showing from the charmed Windows. Daybreak, then. Rubbing the back of her stiff neck, she sat up in her chair and looked over to see him staring blearily at her. Leaning over, she gently took his face in her hands and placed soft kisses on his forehead and nose before brushing her lips against his. "Draco…..I thought I had lost you, love."

"Where am I?" he mumbled.

"St. Mungo's. Do….Do you remember what happened?"

Draco frowned. His brain felt fuzzy. As if those wrackspurts that crazy Lovegood girl was always blathering about had taken up residence in his head. He tried to recall what he'd been doing last when it all came back in a rush. Making love to Hermione…..his mother's visit…..his grief at the thought of losing his witch…... and then… him .

Someone familiar had come to call.

" Father ."

Hermione froze. "What? You….you mean…..oh, my God, Draco. Your father did this?"

Draco's face distorted into a mask of pain. She could see him trying hard not to fall apart. He looked up at her with tormented eyes, filled with hurt and disbelief that the actions of his father had once again threatened his life.

"He….he was furious with me about yesterday….said we had unfinished business."

Hermione remembered. We are not through here, Son.

"He told me what a disappointment I was and demanded I leave you. We…... fought. He became even more enraged. I swear, it was like he'd turned into Bellatrix. He started screaming." Draco saw Hermione's face darken in fury.

"Then he picked up a knife I'd left on the counter. He tried to threaten me with it. When I wouldn't budge…..he went completely mad. It caught me by surprise."

"But what about your wand? Didn't you have it on you?"

Draco shook his head. "I had put it up earlier. I never imagined I would need it for him."

Hermione swallowed hard. "Well, how did he…...I mean, what did he….."

Draco shut his eyes. He could still see his father above him, his features twisted, his eyes glowing maniacally as his long hair hung down, getting in his face. "He dragged me outside…..pinned me down…...I…..I tried to stop him, but he was stronger. Said he would rather our line end than watch me pollute it."

Hermione stared back, shocked and sickened. Then she stood and shouted, "Harry!"

A few days later, the Daily Prophet's headlines caused quite a stir.

Date with Dementors: Deranged Dad to Receive Kiss

The article went on to report on the attempted murder of Draco Malfoy by his father, dastardly death eater, Lucius Malfoy and of the trial that had been conducted with secrecy and speed. Details of the case had been kept quiet, but the verdict had not; justice would finally be served to the unrepentant supporter of You-Know-Who.

Hermione threw down the paper after reading it. "I don't understand why Kingsley is allowing the Prophet to publish this. The trial was a closed one."

The new minister had at least allowed them that. The only spectators had been Narcissa, Hermione and Harry. Draco, still recovering at St. Mungo's at the time, had not attended.

"You know why," said Draco, reclining on the sofa at the cottage. His wounds now fully healed, he'd been allowed to return home on the condition of staying on bed rest until he finished all his blood replenishing potions. He balked at being confined to the bedroom, so Hermione thought the couch was a good compromise. "He was a death eater that got away with it. Just like me. He'll be made an example now."

"You are in no way like your father, love. He tried to hurt people like me." She took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. "You saved my life."

Draco cleared his throat. There was his opening. Better get it over with before he lost his nerve. "About that…..I need to talk to you about something. I ...I should have told you already….but honestly, I kept forgetting about it….and…..well, you know I'm a selfish prat and….."

"For heaven's sake, Draco, you're rambling. Just say it."

He steeled himself. This was it…...the moment he'd been dreading. "You've been under a life debt. But as of this moment, I declare you free."

Hermione stared at him. Then her mouth quirked up in a grin. "I was wondering when you would bring that up. Your mother told me all about it, but like I told her, nothing could be further from the truth."

Draco's jaw dropped. He felt like he'd been confunded.

"Huh?" was his brilliant reply.

Hermione giggled at his look of befuddlement and kissed him on the cheek. "I wasn't the one under a life debt, Draco. You were. Remember before the battle in the Room of Requirement? The three of us endangered our lives to save you and Goyle from the fiendfyre. I'm guessing that was why afterward, you jumped in front of me to save my life. The life debt you owed drove you to do it."

Draco was gobsmacked. The first thing he blurted out was, "Does that mean I still owe a debt to Harry and the Weasel?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so. We acted as one when we returned for you. Besides…...I'm the one who said we couldn't leave you to die."

He thought back to that time, that terrifying moment when he'd given up hope, only to see three figures flying toward him. Then later during the battle….when he knew Hermione was in grave danger….at that moment, he couldn't explain it, he only knew he'd felt…. compelled to save her.

Merlin.

That explained it; his actions that day finally made sense. He stared at Hermione. She was watching him intently. "So since the time I saved you, we've both been free. You weren't being influenced by the debt to be with me."

She shook her head, her beautiful brown eyes shining with tenderness. "I wasn't being affected by anything other than my own feelings. Our relationship progressed because we both wanted it."

A relief so strong he didn't think he could stand it threatened to overwhelm Draco. Hermione loved him. Wanted him. It hadn't been obligation or magic making her be with him. He pulled her over and settled her on his lap. Then he kissed her. Kissed her with everything he had. All his grief and regret. All his hope, too.

When they came up for air he announced, "You're going to marry me, Witch. You're going to be my wife."

Hermione's breath caught; all at once she squealed so loudly, it made Draco jump and his ears ring. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and laughed, rocking him back and forth in sheer joy.

"I take it you approve the idea," he said, muffled and half smothered by Hermione's hair.

She suddenly paused from her rocking. "Oh blast, I just remembered something." Pulling back a little, she repeated his earlier words back to him. "I declare you free from any debt owed me."

"What was that for?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I figured it couldn't hurt. I saved your life after finding you at the cottage. I didn't want a life debt to start all over again. I needed to be sure you meant it when you proposed, and not just because it was something I wanted you to do. Although I will say that was the bossiest proposal I've ever heard."

Draco's face softened even while a mischievous grin formed. "Heard lots of proposals, have you?" he quipped. Then he became serious. "Something you wanted…" He traced her cheek with his fingertips. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"I do," she nodded. "I want you more than anything."

"Remember what you're getting…..a crippled wreck of a wizard whose only recommendation is that he loves you with all his heart and soul. I mean it, Hermione. I love you; you know that. But you also know I have bad days. Be sure I'm what you want, because once you say yes, I'm holding you to it."

She laughed, although tears were present, too. "Then yes. A million yeses! I love you, you wonderful man."

The two, both with silly grins on their faces, gazed adoringly at the other; Draco, his hand still touching Hermione's cheek and she with her arms around his neck.

Finally, Hermione said, "Well….don't you think you should kiss me?"

Draco showed he could take direction very well when the occasion called for it. He kissed her until she was breathless, and when Hermione suggested they finish their celebrations in the bedroom, his earlier protests about having to stay in bed were immediately forgotten. He was up and off the sofa with a speed that was astonishing, considering his recent ordeal. Grabbing his walker, he said, "Race you there, Granger."

Several celebrations later, Hermione and Draco were exhausted, cocooned in each other's arms. It was then when he asked her about the conversation she'd had with his mother.

"She told me she came to see you. Draco, did she explain to you why she said what she did to you?"

He frowned. "No."

It was something he'd wondered about. His mother's obvious distress and concern about Hermione. When had she started caring about muggleborns?

"Your mother has been under a life debt since her school days at Hogwarts. She told me Bellatrix had wanted your father and his fortune, but he'd spurned her, preferring your mum. Of course, you know how crazy your aunt was….sorry, but she was, Draco…."

"I'm not disputing you, love. I'm beginning to wonder if my whole family's that way."

"It wouldn't be surprising considering all the inbreeding purebloods do."

"Which our marriage will correct, at least with my line..…."

Hermione smiled and nuzzled his chest while snuggling as close as she could. "Well, anyway, your mother said your aunt was unhinged even as a child. When Bellatrix found out Lucius didn't want her, she became enraged, so much so, she cast a dismemberment curse at your mother at a dinner party between the two families. Your father deflected it, but was badly wounded in the process."

Draco wondered if that was why his father had always carried a cane. He'd thought it was a tactic to appear more intimidating, but perhaps Lucius had needed it more than he'd let on.

"Your mother's parents begged the Malfoys not to press charges. They agreed, on one condition….that the marriage contract be modified to make it between Lucius and Narcissa, which pleased your father greatly. The Blacks couldn't refuse. Because of the life debt she now owed, your mother couldn't object, even though she'd been dating someone else. She married your father and was forced to give in to his desires ever since. The only bright spot was when you were born.

Draco stayed quiet during Hermione's explanation, hugging her more tightly to himself when she went into the more unsavory bits of his mother's enslavement.

"Why…..that...that... .." he seethed, words failing him. There wasn't a strong enough expletive to describe his father after hearing the things his mother had suffered.

Hermione privately agreed, but only said, "That's why your mother couldn't protect you like she wanted. Keeping you safe from Voldemort went against your father's wishes. He wanted you to follow in his footsteps."

And when I no longer did, he wanted me dead. Draco was quiet for a moment; then he asked, "Did she think I would do that to you ? Force you into things you didn't want?"

Hermione gave him a small, sad smile. "Each of us has light and dark within us. I'm sure your father didn't start out as evil. But he'd been given too much power over another and as the saying goes, power corrupts. I think your mother was afraid it was a possibility."

Draco huffed, offended at the idea, but deep down, he sort of understood.

"Anyhow, that doesn't apply to us. I know what I've got."

"Oh? And what is that, Granger?"

"The love I've always wanted."

Draco rolled his eyes but was secretly pleased. "You've always wanted someone with a disability?"

"Well, unless I want to marry a martian or some other kind of extraterrestrial, I'm sort of stuck with the options here." Seeing his puzzled look, she stroked his bangs away from his face. "We're all disabled, Draco. We're all broken, somehow or another. Perfection doesn't exist. So, I think the trick is to find someone who's whole in the places we're not."

He didn't comment, merely rested his cheek against her hair. They stayed that way for a few minutes; Hermione began to get sleepy. Draco finally broke the silence.

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's marry soon," he said. "Unless you see a point in waiting?"

She wiggled closer and planted a kiss on the underside of his jaw. "When were you thinking?"

He grinned devilishly. "Halloween."

"Draco! That's barely a month away."

"It's five weeks away. I've seen Mother plan large galas in less time. But my witch isn't the bridezilla type, so I'm sure Mother could handle whatever we asked her to do.

"You know about bridezillas?"

"How quickly you forget. Remember that show you made me watch? You're not wanting something like that, are you?""

Hermione shuddered. A big, fancy wedding was most definitely not what she wanted.

Draco softly began to press kisses on her face before he moved down to her neck.

Coercion, that's what this is. Sneaky little snake, she thought even while tilting her head to give him better access.

"Think, love. Small, intimate wedding. Family and friends. Lots of love and laughter. No beetle reporters or supremacist society snobs."

Hermione laughed. Turning her head, she saw that mischievous smirk she loved so much on his face.

"Now how can you say no to that? Please?"

She sighed. It was hard to refuse him when he was being so adorable. Besides, they were basically living as man and wife as it was.

Was there really a reason to wait?

Part 2 - Epilogue

Despite Draco's enthusiasm, his marriage to Hermione was delayed, mainly due to Healer Robbins strongly advising the couple to wait. Draco's health, already compromised by the curse, needed additional time to fully recover from the trauma his father had inflicted upon it.

His father.

Lucius was in Azkaban, awaiting his sentence. The ministry was doing just as Draco predicted; they were going to make his father an example. Draco hated the thought of a big production; hated the thought that the ministry would sensationalize the taking of a man's soul. Mostly, he hated the fact that he still cared. He knew Lucius didn't deserve his regard, but he couldn't help it. A son's devotion to a father ran deep. Yet, in a strange, sick way, he felt relieved. The perpetual shadow he'd been born under would finally be gone. Still, for his own peace of mind, he decided to go see Lucius one last time. He didn't know why. Maybe he needed closure.

"Oh, Hon….are you sure? You don't have to do this," Hermione said, her eyes filled with concern when he told her of his plans.

"Yes, I do. He owes me that." He turned to Harry, sitting at their table. "You'll arrange it for me?"

Harry nodded. "I'll do more than that; I'll go with you, too."

Draco gave his former enemy a quick nod. "Thanks, Mate. Mind you, I….I don't know what he might say….."

"Does it matter? That's all he can do."

"Sorry?"

"Talk, I mean," Harry explained. "Words are the only weapon he has left."

Hermione bit her lip, not comforted by Harry's statement. Words were powerful. They could lift the spirits or cut a soul to ribbons. She looked worriedly at her fiancé; Draco would be incredibly vulnerable.

The day before he was to go to Azkaban, Draco went to see his mother. She, like Hermione, worried it might do more harm than good.

"What's to be gained by it?" she questioned. "Better to just let him go."

Draco shook his head stubbornly. "No….that's too easy. I want him to look me in the eye and tell me why I was never good enough. Why his beliefs meant more to him than his own son."

Narcissa sighed, rubbing a finger against her temple. "Your father…..it's complicated, the way he reasoned things…..but I know he loved you once, darling," she said softly. "He loved me, too…..once."

Draco huffed out a breath, frustrated. "Then what happened? What changed him? And don't say the Dark Lord. I'm tired of that excuse."

Narcissa paused. "Your father didn't change. You did. That's what happened. And it terrified him."

Draco's face twisted into a mocking sneer. "I see. A powerful wizard was so scared of his son, he decided to kill him. Yes, that makes perfect sense."

Narcissa's cheeks burned red. A lifetime of defending her husband was a hard habit to break. She watched as Draco struggled to get up from her plush sofa; when he was finally able to stand, he grabbed his walker for balance.

"Well, if that's the way he wants it, then so be it. Maybe he'll be bloody well trembling once I'm done with him tomorrow."

Narcissa caught Draco's arm. "Vengeance isn't the answer, Son."

He shook off her hand. "I don't want vengeance; I want a confession. He needs to acknowledge his wrongs while he still has the chance," he uttered before disapparating, walker and all.

The next day, Draco and Harry returned early from their visit to the prison. Hermione and Narcissa were both waiting at the cottage when they walked in. Both witches looked at each other, apprehension in their faces. One look at Draco told them it had not gone well.

"Love?" Hermione said hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Draco didn't respond.

Narcissa gazed uneasily at her son, then turned to the boy who lived. "Mr. Potter…...did my husband…"

Harry shook his head, clearly troubled. "He didn't do anything, Mrs. Malfoy." His eyes darted worriedly at Draco.

"Then what…." she began to ask before Draco interrupted her.

"He didn't say anything because he couldn't !" he spit out, angry tears shining in his eyes. "They've already done it, Mum. He's…..he's gone."

Narcissa's face lost the little color it had.

"Good God….Harry, Mr. Malfoy's been kissed?"

He turned around and nodded at Hermione. "Yeah. Turns out they did it right after he was taken to Azkaban.

"But….but the papers said they were going to make it a big event. The final death eater to be kissed ," Narcissa argued, quoting the headlines.

"It was a ploy by the Wizengamot to satisfy the public. They were going to release photos of the kiss as it happened…...I think they were trying to repair their reputation, actually. But Kingsley wasn't in favor of the courts using a man's execution as a publicity stunt to better their image. So this was his solution. He figured no one would ever know the difference."

"Except for me," Narcissa murmured to herself.

"Ma'am?" Harry asked.

She looked guiltily at her son. "I knew I'd felt better since his arrest. I thought it was because of the distance separating us or because the wards around the prison were keeping his magic from reaching me. But now…...I suppose it was because I'd been freed from the life debt."

Harry looked at Hermione, confusion in his eyes, but she shook her head. She would explain it all to him later. She needed to take care of Draco now.

She looked at her fiancé. Draco looked lost, torn between anger and heartbreak. Communicating with Harry in the silent way they'd developed during the war, she got him to escort Narcissa home. Once they were gone, she led Draco to their bathroom and began to fill the tub. She added aromatic salts to the warm water and wandlessly cast a spell that would make the waters churn to better massage his tight muscles. She turned and undressed Draco and helped him in the tub. Discarding her garments, she followed after, resting between his legs with her back to his chest.

Then she waited.

Draco said nothing at first, but soon his hands crept around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. A couple of moments later, Hermione heard a sniff, then a choked cry. Draco buried his face in her abundant hair and began to sob, his body shaking from the onslaught. Hermione's tender heart broke at the sound of it. The hurt little boy inside Draco could no longer be suppressed; he needed to mourn for his father, for his one-time idol. He needed to grieve for the loss of his innocence. His hero had turned out to be his tormentor, and if Hermione had not found him in time, his killer. She wisely said nothing, but continued to comfort as she could. She caressed his arms; she massaged his thighs; lifting his hands to her face, she left kisses on both his palms. When she felt his tears subsiding, she turned in his arms and began to tenderly wash him. As before in the shower, she made her moves slow and unhurried, only this time she had no hesitancy with touching any part of his body. He was familiar now; every part of him beloved. Draco closed his eyes, red-rimmed from his emotional outburst, and let the love of his life minister to him. Every brush of her hands was deeply intimate, though not necessarily sexual. It went deeper than that. Hermione was releasing her love through the magic of touch. It was an act of healing. Draco's soul was being cleansed of every hurt, every disappointment…...every pain he'd ever felt in connection with his father. It was if the heavy weight of darkness was being washed off, layer by layer. After she finished, he took her in his arms and kissed her, desperate need for his other half consuming him. Hermione must have felt the same way, for with a twirl of her wrist, her magic carried them to their bed. There, Draco gave himself to her as if it was the first time they'd ever made love. He'd never felt so exposed, so raw before; yet he'd also never felt so…... clean . Hermione immediately felt the difference.

"I love you," he whispered repeatedly as he worshipped every inch of her body.

I know was her last coherent thought for a while.

They married on the American holiday of Thanksgiving. Draco felt it quite appropriate; indeed, he felt American himself that day, for he knew he had much to be thankful for. Healer Robbins had told him as much. He recalled their conversation when the older wizard had advised them to wait.

"That pretty little witch of yours isn't going anywhere, if that's what you're worried about. Her feelings are very evident."

The comment mollified Draco. He knew Healer Robbins had spoken the truth. He knew for a fact Hermione loved him. He felt it everyday; her quiet strength buoying him when doubts assailed, when his body betrayed him, when fears told him her feelings couldn't last. She proved his thoughts were lies and before long, they began to lose their power over the former Slytherin.

They chose to be married at midday, the time when light reigns supreme, in front of the Rowan tree by the lake. The magicks of the tree, planted so many years ago by Draco's grandmother, played a great part in their nuptials. They had opted for a magical union, complete with marriage marks in lieu of rings. They did not stand for the wedding; Draco had not wanted his walker to have any place in their ceremony. Instead, they sat facing each other on a flying carpet, the only one in existence in Britain, a gift to Kingsley from the former wizarding ambassador of Egypt. Levitating high enough so that all in attendance could see them, they spoke their vows of love and faithfulness, although for Draco, it felt more like a redundancy, an encore performance just for the sake of those attending the wedding, for he'd finally come to the realization that he and Hermione had bonded long ago.

When it came time to receive their mark, their combined powers tapped into the deeper, primal magic of the nearby tree, its might swirling around them in a cloud of autumn leaves while causing the lake to momentarily ripple as if the wake of a boat had come ashore. Then they felt a sharp piercing in the area around their heart. Next, a heavy pull, not pleasant but not painful, moved slowly from their heart down their left arm. They watched in amazement as colorful swirls and patterns emerged on their skin. Draco's dark mark shrank from the vibrant colors as if in fright, and began to recede; slowly at first, until finally it vanished. His eyes grew heavy with unshed tears. He knew what it meant. Darkness could no longer live in him, due to his eternal commitment to the witch who would forever after be his wife. Finally, they felt a slight sting on their ring finger and saw that one last swirl, this one golden, encircled where a wedding band would have gone.

"Love, do you recognize our rune?" Draco asked, barely breathing at the wonder of the redemptive magic etched on his skin.

Hermione nodded, stunned.

Their marriage mark was the symbol for rebirth.

Their first year of marriage found Draco and Hermione leading an idyllic existence. Together they worked on potions to help Draco function more normally. Some of them were so effective, they sent them to Healer Robbins for him to try on other patients. He had such encouraging results, St Mungo's spell damage department began to regularly send orders for the potions. In their spare time, they studied at home for their Newts, and it was a surprise to no one when they both passed with O's.

Then in June, right before his birthday, Draco came down with what they had thought was a summer cold, but it quickly turned into pneumonia; he soon developed sepsis. There was a week Hermione could never talk about afterward. Healers said he was beyond their skill. They told her to prepare for the inevitable. But somehow, Draco rallied. His recovery astonished everyone; later, after the danger had passed, Harry jokingly told him he was more cat than snake, because he apparently had nine lives.

"Well, only six more now," Harry teased, but he was almost as relieved as Hermione that Draco had once again defeated the odds.

His last brush with death had been a turning point for his wife. Hermione couldn't go through almost losing him again. She began to take him to see muggle doctors. He thought she was going overboard, but she wouldn't budge. "Healers are fine, Draco. But they don't have the technological advantages doctors have."

It turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Draco. They found an excellent internist who helped them form a network of physicians dedicated to his care, including an infectious diseases expert, an orthopedic specialist and a physical therapist, who created a regiment for Draco that improved his strength and flexibility. Different medications ceased the tremors and kept the fevers from returning. By the time Hermione gave birth to their first child two years later, Draco was walking with only an occasional need for an aid. The walker had been permanently retired. When Scorpius was three years old, Draco could carry him easily.

"Papa…..whys you gots a stick?" Scorpius asked one evening when Draco was tired and needed his cane after an especially grueling workout earlier that day with his therapist.

Draco patted the curly blonde head. "You mean, when I walk?"

"Uh-huh. Mummy donts have a stick and Gam-ma neither."

"Come here, Son." Draco lifted the tot to his lap. Scorpius looked up expectantly at his father. He was unusually striking, blessed with the hair coloring of his father while having the rosy complexion of his mother. Even at his young age, he got quite the attention whenever they took him to Diagon Alley.

"Long ago, your Papa got hexed by a nasty old curse, and it made me very sick. But I'm better now."

Scorpius reacted in the typical way of a child; he let out a soft gasp of sympathy, then immediately tried to relate in the only way he could.

"Jamie hitted me wonced, and it hurted me bad, but I hitted hims back, and then I felts better."

Draco choked down a laugh. "Don't let your mother or Uncle Harry hear about you hitting Jamie, or into the time out corner you'll go," he said, although Draco was secretly tickled that the son of Harry Potter got his comeuppance for once. The mischief that child got into could put the Weasley twins to shame.

"What are you and Scorpius talking about?" Hermione's voice trailed from the kitchen where she was putting the finishing touches on a cake she'd baked for Narcissa's birthday.

Draco put his finger to his lip. Scorpius nodded, grinning conspiratorially. "Nothing, love. We're just swapping stories, is all."

"Draco, you better not be telling our son any of those stories about you and Theo. Your Mum told me all about your shenanigans; you were horrid little devils. My baby is an angel, I don't want you to be putting any ideas into his head."

Draco winked at Scorpius. He giggled and placed his chubby fingers around his neck. "Yous not haw-wid," he murmured, placing a sweet wet kiss on Draco's cheek. "I wuv my Papa."

Draco hugged him back. "I love you, my Son."

And unlike his own father, it would always be true.

A/N: my husband was the inspiration for this story. The pain, the struggling, the despair, the frustration, the always being cold, the learning new ways to do things, the humor…...the love. He fights everyday to overcome his disabilities and failing health. In spite of him thinking he's less of a man than he was before, I've never admired him more. Come what may, he is my hero.

And he always will be. No matter what.