"Daddy! Daddy!" Little Severus, aged five years and three months next Tuesday, ran panting to his father. "There's a scary monster in the closet!"

Behind him, albeit slower, came Narcissa, aged eight years and six months, with a superbly disdainful expression on her face. "Honestly, Severus," she said in a combination of her mother's bossiness and her father's sarcastic drawl, "it's just a boggart. Nothing to be scared of. Really, you're such a sissy."

"I thought you were the 'Cissy' in the family," teased Draco with a grin. She tossed her long platinum blonde hair with a nonchalant, haughty expression, but he could see the smile lurking on her classically beautiful features.

"But really, Dad," Narcissa, with all the maturity and dignity entitled to a eight year old, had given up saying Daddy, "he's so scared of a boggart. I mean really, how pathetic can you get?" despite the arrogant façade so like her father's at Hogwarts, there was an undercurrent of fear in her voice.

Draco smiled rather goofily as he looked at the two of them. Narcissa was a feminine version of her father with blond hair and grey eyes, but she had her mother's bossiness and intelligence as well as his sarcastic drawl that so irritated her mother. Severus on the other hand was much more like Hermione in looks, with dark brown, almost black, hair, and brown-black eyes, but almost as intelligent, if not quite so bossy.

A loud rattle came from the aforementioned closet, causing both children to jump. Narcissa looked guiltily at her father, ashamed of her fear, while Severus whimpered and buried his head further in his father's chest.

"It's all right, Sev," said Draco kindly. "A boggart can be scary, I must admit, but it's nothing to be frightened of. Come here, Cissy," he said, beckoning to the girl, who came a little slowly. She took after him and was not entirely comfortable with physical affection, but sat on his lap nevertheless.

"Now, you don't have to be frightened of a boggart. Remember, all you have to do is laugh. And do you want me to tell you a secret?" he asked conspiratorially.

Severus looked up at his father and nodded, wide-eyed. Narcissa followed suit, though she tried hard to appear uninterested.

"A boggart is the reason your mother and I got together."

"Really?" asked Narcissa, dropping all pretenses of haughtiness. Severus was too awed and overcome by this information to speak, and instead sat mulling over this fascinating tidbit of information. Any fact about their parents' lives at Hogwarts, usually so closely guarded, was earth-shaking.

"How did a boggart make you get together?" he asked when he was done thinking. "Aren't boggarts supposed to turn into monsters?"

"No, no, Sev," said Narcissa in a perfect imitation of her mother. "Boggarts turn into what you fear most, not monsters."

"But some people are scared of monsters, aren't they?" he fired back. "So they would turn into monsters."

"Honestly, Sev, that's called nit-picking. You made it sound like they did that all the time, for everybody. But really, Dad, how did a boggart make you get together?"

He smiled at her snubbing and curiosity. "Well, you see," he started. "It was a cold day in the Great Hall with students from all four Houses gathered together for a lesson…"

"and when she said that, I realized it had been her I had loved all along. The End." He looked down to find both his children sleeping soundly on his lap. He smiled at them lovingly. He had come a long way from the frightened little boy who had lashed out at everyone to hide the fear within him, or even insecure boy who had survived the War but was frightened of pursuing the girl he loved.

"Draco?" he looked up at his wife, still beautiful, even after eight years of marriage. "You told them our story, huh?"

He nodded, smiling.

"Er—not all of it, right?" she said, sounding slightly uneasy.

"Don't worry, Mione, I cut out the kissing part. And the part when you told me how you fell in love with me."

Their children might be a little young to discover that their mother had first had 'feelings' for their dad when she had seen him with his shirt off during one of their missions, while he was taking a dip in the stream.

"You cut out the kissing part, huh?" she asked. "Are you sure you didn't just forget it?"

"Who, me?" he protested, grinning inwardly, knowing where this was headed.

"Yes, you, Draco Malfoy."

"Well, now that you mention it…" he trailed off.

"Would you like me to refresh your memory?" she asked suggestively.

"Why not?"

Hours later, their little house elves, Mimsy and Whimsy, who were, on Hermione's insistence, paid, tiptoed in to find their master and mistress asleep on the study table, their clothes rumpled and askew.

"Really, Mimsy," squeaked Whimsy as he began picking up the scattered quills and paper. "Why can't they just do it in the bedroom like normal people?"