Hermione hummed a tune on the muggle radio as she pulled a baking sheet out of the oven. She turned and scooped the cookies onto a cooling rack. She swayed her hips to the music until two arms wrapped around her neck and a pair of cool lips touched her heated skin. She smiled and said, "If you make me drop just one cookie, Draco Malfoy, Anteros will kill you. Not to mention his hormonal pregnant wife."

Draco reached out and snatched a cookie. "Sophia loves me," he said. "She won't kill her favorite brother-in-law over a...No, she would." He leaned against the island in the kitchen and munched on the cookie, smiling at Hermione. She laughed at how at ease he was. Today, he wore a pair of muggle jeans and a flannel shirt she'd gotten him a few Christmases ago; and his hair was a mess.

Hermione leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Draco," she said. "I distinctly remember that shirt being red. Not green."

Draco looked down at his shirt and smiled at her. "I just made a slight tweak. Now, I can be proud of my wife's gift." He kissed her on the lips.

Hermione pulled away slightly and said, "I was wondering how long you were going to wear the red before changing it. For the long wait, I'll give you another cookie."

Draco laughed and took another cookie. He looked around. "Why so many?" he asked. "This is more than you made all those years ago when you were kept here by the Death Eaters." Hermione met his eyes and he sighed, finally understanding. "The anniversary," he said.

Hermione nodded, turning the ovens off. "Ten years, today, the war ended. Many lives were lost and loves were found." She looked up. "You proposed two days after the battle, Harry proposed to Ginny, Ron announced his six month marriage to Pansy...and that stupid brother of mine was confessed to by sweet Sophia. Couldn't even beat her to it. At least he beat her to proposing."

Draco laughed and held her again. "But your father..." he said.

Hermione picked up a cookie and stared at it. "He loved my cookies," she said. "Told me so when I sent him a plate full for Christmas. And another for Easter." Hermione put the cookie down and buried her face into her husband's shoulder. "I miss him, Draco," she said, tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

Draco rubbed her back and made comforting sounds. "I know, honey," he said. "I know." They stayed like that until she stopped crying. Slowly, he pulled her back and smiled. "Hey, how about we make up the usual plates. One for Anteros and Sophia, one for Harry and Ginny, Ron and Pansy, a large one for the rest of the Weasleys, and a plate full of the best for my parents."

Hermione laughed. "Why do your parents have to get the best?" she asked.

"Because, sweety," Draco said, rubbing her arms and smiling. "The only reason they let me marry you, is because of your wonderful cooking. If you don't prove your wonderful cooking skills, they'll make me divorce you."

Hermione took a handful of flour and threw it in his face. He sputtered and spat some of it out. "Your parents love me, dear husband," she said around her laughter. "And if you divorce me-"

"You'll turn my skin red?" he asked. He reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her against his hard chest.

"You betcha," Hermione said, giggling. "But you're all dirty."

Draco looked down at himself and said, "So I am. Well, since it's your fault, you should take responsibility for cleaning me up." He smirked. "And I haven't seen my favorite tattoo in a while." He lifted her over his shoulder and made his way up to their rooms.

The House elves popped back into the kitchen. "Finally," Twinkle said. "Those two left."

"I can't stand newlyweds," Babble said, putting the ingredients away.

"They've been married for eight years, Babble. They're not newlyweds," Twinkle said. She started on making the plates for everyone. The Master and Mistress were going to take a while. Twinkle took extra time to make Anteros and Sophia's plate look special. With their expected baby, Sophia was more focused on pretty things and the like. And could be a terror when provoked. Twinkle didn't need her Master coming home with half of his hair shaven off...again.

After they finished with the plates, Twinkle and Babble looked at each other. "Guess we should start making dinner," Babble said. Twinkle nodded.

Every year on the anniversary of the war, the Malfoys threw a large dinner party. They invited every Weasley, Fletcher, and other school mates and survivors of the war. They would laugh, catch up, and celebrate being alive. And, every year, at the stroke of midnight, Mistress would stand up and raise her glass. Every year, she said the same toast. "To Friends and Family. To the ones that survived, and the ones we lost. A war was won, but many more will come. But, every year, we will meet on this day, with these people around us that have seen our world...and we will know that we are all victors. That we, though once enemies, are now friends, family, and lovers. To us, my friends." And everyone would raise their glasses high and say "To us" before drinking. No one ever left tear free.

Mistress was strong, but she remembered what the Dark Lord had once said when watching the young Master and Mistress play in the Manor's yard with Mr. Anteros and Ms. Sophia during the Christmas holidays. "Twinkle, those four are going to be together one day."

"Slytherins and Gryffindors?" Twinkle had asked, looking at the humans. The girls were decked out in their red and gold house colors, the boys dressed in their black and silver cloaks.

The Dark Lord had chuckled. "Twinkle, the difference between Slytherin and Gryffindor...is the colors."

AN: Well, that's it. Hope you liked it. What do you think? Hope you enjoyed it as much as I had fun writing it. Thanks for reading.