Epilogue: Friends

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Guess what I made today!"

Setting down his briefcase inside the door of the rook-like house he now called home, Draco swept the tiny elfin blonde up into his arms. "What'd you make today, love?" he asked his daughter, Gemini Narcissa Malfoy.

Gemini gazed at him with sparkling topaz eyes. Leaning in to cup her small hand around his ear, she whispered, "I made Uncle Harry's Christmas present!"

"You did, did you?" Draco carried his five-year-old daughter down the hall to the kitchen, where Luna, looking radiant in a wine-colored dress beneath her old lime-green coat – which still buttoned over her pregnant belly, though just barely – was pulling a wool cap over the silky blonde head of a small boy, who was the picture of his father, right down to his pointed chin.

Even after six years of marriage, Luna's beauty still took Draco's breath away. He shifted Gemini to his other hip, leaning in to kiss his wife softly on the lips.

Luna ran her fingertips tenderly across Draco's cheek. "You're late," she chided gently.

"Sorry, love. Jordan wanted to run some new material by me for next week's edition, and I lost track of time," Draco apologized. Luna, long used to being the wife of a newspaperman, smiled to show him she wasn't really upset.

"Gemini tells me she made Potter a present."

"She drew him a lovely picture," Luna confirmed, beaming at her daughter. "And Scorpius drew Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione one, didn't you?"

Scorpius James Malfoy, at two years old the copy of Luna's dreamy nature despite being exactly like his father in looks, nodded serenely. "Hello, Daddy," the little boy said airily, holding up a drawing of what Draco assumed were supposed to be two hippogriffs flying through a brightly-colored rainbow.

"Hello, Scorpius," Draco returned, reaching out and scooping his son up into his other arm. "Are those hippogriffs from where Mummy works?"

Scorpius nodded. "George and Marley," he named the beasts. "Uncle Hagrid let me name them."

"He did, did he?"

"He also told me you don't like hippogriffs." Scorpius studied his father solemnly. "That's not true, is it, Daddy? You like hippigriffs, don't you?"

Winking at Luna over their son's shoulder, Draco replied dryly, "I might've had a bad experience with a hippogriff once, but I'm sure I'd like George and Marley."

Draco's children had both inherited their mother's love of magical creatures – which might have been due in part to the fact that, as they were still far too young to attend Hogwarts yet, they spent their days with their mother and "Uncle Hagrid" (now retired from Hogwarts) at The Rubeus Hagrid Home for the Care of Magical Creatures. After Hogwarts, Luna had decided to follow in her mother's footsteps by becoming a wizarding naturalist; although she had yet to reach her thirtieth birthday, she was now a world-renowned authority on the Healing of unicorns, hippogriffs, dragons, and all manner of magical beings.

Not long after Luna graduated, Draco had volunteered his parents' house (which he had no intention of ever living in again, not with its terrible memories) and a substantial portion of his inheritance to help Luna set up her hospital. He had never regretted that decision, and he thought his parents would have been pleased by the renovations Luna had made to Malfoy Manor.

Draco had never stopped missing his parents, of course, though as time passed, he found he could think of them without being overcome by grief or anger – or being reminded of Voldemort's reptilian face. When Draco walked the halls of Luna's remarkable facility now, one that ran as efficiently as St. Mungo's despite being filled with fire slugs and phoenixes instead of people, he couldn't help thinking that Narcissa Malfoy would have smiled to see a unicorn wandering through her rose garden.

The home Draco and Luna had made near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole suited him better than Malfoy Manor would have these days, anyway. There was nothing austere about the rook-like house where Luna had grown up, a house Xenophilius had left to them a few years back when he'd retired to a wizarding commune in Greece. While the house was nicely-appointed, thanks to Draco's inheritance and he and Luna's success as professionals, it was decidedly lived-in. Luna had painted the rooms in fanciful colors like lilac, buttercup-yellow, and magenta; her hand-drawn portraits of their friends and family, linked by chains of roses and daisies, filled the walls, bringing light and warmth to the whole house. The old printing press had long since been moved to the new offices of The Quibbler in Diagon Alley, but the house these days was no less crowded and cluttered with two small children running about.

Draco loved the mess. He wouldn't have traded their home for a million mansions.

The clock on the wall chimed seven. Smiling at both of his children, Draco asked, "Who's ready for presents?"

"I am!" Gemini shouted, clapping her hands. Unlike her little brother, Gemini was noise and action: Draco wasn't sure who she took after, as neither he nor Luna had ever been rambunctious, but he adored her fiery nature all the same.

"What about Mummy? Is she ready?" Draco inquired, watching Luna twist her honey-blonde curls up into a thick bun on top of her head. He had to smile when he saw the seahorse charm fastened around her slender neck.

Thankfully, some things never changed.

"Mummy is ready," Luna declared. "Let's go."

It was a short walk through a world made enchanting by lightly-falling snow. Draco walked hand-in-hand with Luna, chatting quietly about their days, while Gemini and Scorpius skipped ahead, tossing snowballs at one another.

The lights of the Burrow soon came into view.

"Luna! Draco! Kids! Happy Christmas! My goodness, that's a full house," Arthur Weasley greeted them moments later, helping Luna (whose swollen belly left her slightly off-balance) step over the threshold. His hair had gone entirely gray over the last six years, yet Draco thought Ron's dad still looked quite spry. "Molly! They're here!"

"Well, then, I think that's everybody." Molly Weasley, appearing slightly harassed at her houseful of guests, bustled into the kitchen. She snatched Gemini into the air and showered her with kisses; the little girl giggled. "You run along now, dear," she instructed her, setting her down with a last kiss. "James and Rose are in the backyard making snowmen, I think. Scorpius, can Grandma Molly interest you in a biscuit?"

Scorpius held his arms up to Mrs. Weasley, who settled him on her hip before pausing to pat Draco warmly on the cheek. "Lovely to see you, dear," she commented. To Luna, she observed merrily, "And you, Luna, look at you! You look beautiful. When's the big day?"

"New Year's, we're hoping," Draco answered for his wife. He wasn't sure why, but he really liked the idea of a New Year's birth.

"We're certain it's going to be girls, then?"

"Oh yes," Luna answered serenely, placing one hand atop her belly. "Eostara Jean and Selena Ginevra."

Mrs. Weasley took Luna's word for it. After all, Luna had been right about every pregnancy so far – hers, Hermione's, and Ginny's, all. Draco had learned not to doubt Luna's intuition on such matters, not even when she'd announced, before her stomach had even started to round, that this time, she would be having twins.

Draco trailed along behind his wife through the crowded living room, where most of the Weasley's immediate (and adopted) family had gathered for Christmas Eve. Bill, Fleur (still unbelievably gorgeous) and their children; Harry's godson, Teddy Lupin; Ron's brother Charlie, still unmarried; Percy, his dark-haired wife Audrey, and their young daughters; and George's wife Angelina with their two children, little Fred and the baby Roxanne, were gathered around the Christmas tree, the children calling out instructions as the adults floated the last of the bulbs onto the branches.

"Happy Christmas!" the Weasley siblings and their families chorused, waving to Draco and Luna.

Draco grinned when he spotted the real gnome atop the tree. Every year, George Immobilized one of the Weasleys' garden gnomes and dressed it in a tutu to serve as the tree's angel, something Hermione had once told him the twins used to do together.

Draco wondered if any of them would ever stop missing Fred. He doubted it.

Draco followed Luna into the kitchen, where Hermione and Ginny were helping Mrs. Weasley put the finishing touches on dinner. Like Luna, both were pregnant, and both were just as radiantly beautiful.

Hermione turned her attention from the cooking to give Draco a warm hug. "Happy Christmas," she greeted him.

"Happy Christmas, Granger," Draco replied. He still called her "Granger," even though she'd been Mrs. Hermione Weasley for almost eight years now. It never failed to make her smile.

Ginny was holding her youngest son, Albus, on her lap at the kitchen table. The toddler was fast asleep, thumb stuck in his mouth. She tilted her cheek up for Draco to kiss. "Harry and Ron are outside," she told him. "You might see if you can get them to come in before the kids all freeze to death."

Draco offered a mock-salute. "Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Potter." Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

In the Weasleys' backyard, where Draco had once descended into the midst of Bill and Fleur's wedding as a Death Eater, he found Potter and Weasley helping Potter's eldest son James, Weasley's daughter Rose, and Gemini build an enormous, lop-sided snowman. Rose, who took after her mother in looks and personality, was bossily instructing her playmates in how to arrange the snowman's coal buttons.

"No, Gemini," Rose insisted, reaching out to remove the purple stone Gemini had just pressed into the snowman's belly. "Buttons are black on snowmen, not purple!"

"Rose," Weasley reproved, "let Gemini do it her way, okay?"

Rose frowned at her father. "But, Daddy, it's not right! None of the snowmen in books have purple buttons."

"She has a point, Weasley," Draco commented. To the children, he called, "Let's do this one in black buttons, Gemini, and tomorrow at home we'll make one with purple buttons, all right?" His daughter nodded, easily appeased, as always.

Potter stuck his hand out to Draco. "Happy Christmas, Malfoy."

"And to you, Potter," Draco said. Turning to Weasley, he offered, "How's things at the Ministry?"

"Good to see you, mate," Weasley responded, clasping Draco's hand. "I'm still getting used to it, I think. Being an Auror's a bit different than running a joke shop."

"Not nearly as profitable, either," George remarked, emerging from behind the snowman. "I keep telling him, there's no money in honest work." They all laughed.

On days like today, it would strike Draco anew how amazed he was at the way his life had turned out – better than he could ever have imagined at seventeen, when the world had seemed interminably dark and dangerous.

After Voldemort's fall, things had not immediately returned to normal. Looking back on it now, Draco realized those tumultuous months had ultimately been for the best. Through the rebuilding of Hogwarts and the trials of Voldemort's surviving Death Eaters (including Rastaban Lestrange, who had ultimately been acquitted for his crimes during the Second Wizarding War thanks to the service he'd done both Potter and Draco), the magical world had confronted some of its most deeply-entrenched prejudices, especially those against Muggle-borns and half-breeds. Learning, even courtesy of Rita Skeeter, that even Albus Dumbledore had once considered a policy of Muggle domination had changed the way a lot of people thought about things. No longer had it seemed safe to go on with the status quo, assuming that only those rare, truly evil wizards like Voldemort and Grindelwald would ever defy the International Statute of Secrecy. Suddenly, the need to decide what witches and wizards would and would not do with their power had become a pressing matter.

As long as there was magic, Draco knew there would be those who believed having magical abilities gave one the right to dominate those who didn't. Nevertheless, in the years since Voldemort's defeat, a large measure of the Pureblood mania that had allowed him to rise to power in the first place had died away in the wake of the Chosen One's victory.

But, impossible as it had seemed at the time, life had eventually gone on, even coming to resemble something like normalcy, if undoubtedly a new normal. Draco had finished out the last few weeks of his seventh year at Hogwarts and had performed so well on his N.E.W.T.s that just about any career path had been open to him. Surprisingly, the only job offer that had appealed to him had come from Luna's father: Xenophilius had asked his daughter's boyfriend to intern for The Quibbler as a reporter, and while Draco had at first accepted as a way to get to know his future father-in-law better, he had found himself well-suited to the life of a newspaperman.

Along with Hermione, who to no one's surprise had wanted to go back for her seventh and final year at Hogwarts ("I know I could pass my N.E.W.T.s," she had insisted when Weasley had demanded to know why on earth she would take on another year of school, "but think of everything I could learn!"), Luna and Ginny had finished out their seventh years while Draco was cutting his teeth as a reporter. Potter, who had sailed through his N.E.W.T.s despite missing his last year, had embarked on what would be an exemplary career as an Auror at the Ministry, while Weasley had set up shop in London with George.

They could have all gone their separate ways then, Draco supposed, but for some reason, Potter, Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Draco had seemed drawn to one another. Maybe people simply couldn't go through everything the six of them had gone through together without becoming friends for life. In any event, Dumbledore got his wish in the end: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had, at last, become great friends.

While the girls had finished school, the two former enemies had taken an apartment together in London, not far from The Leaky Cauldron. Draco hadn't been there much, seeing as he had spent his first year after Hogwarts traveling the world and sending back reports on international magical life that had quickly made The Quibbler a sensation. When he had been around, he and Potter had gotten on remarkably well.

Once Ginny and Luna had graduated, Draco had immediately returned to England full-time, formalizing the proposal he'd made after the Battle of Hogwarts with a gorgeous goblin-made diamond ring, a Malfoy family heirloom. The two had married about a year later and had taken a house in London. Ginny and Potter had moved slower – Ginny had joined the Holyhead Harpies, playing Seeker for a couple of years before settling down to work as a Quidditch reporter for The Prophet – but they had eventually married as well. They lived in the house Potter's godfather, Sirius Black, had left to him, though it was now a sunnier, happier place than it had been when the Order of the Phoenix had used it as headquarters.

To everyone's surprise, Weasley and Hermione had beaten even Draco and Luna to the altar. At the time, Draco had suspected that, once Potter's choice had become clear, Hermione hadn't wanted to give him a chance to change his mind; in the years that had followed, however, Draco had come to see that Hermione did love Weasley, who clearly adored her. Eventually, Draco had, albeit grudgingly, admitted that perhaps Weasley was good enough for Hermione after all.

Maybe.

The strangest collaboration of all, however, even stranger than Potter and Draco becoming roommates, had been that between the free-spirited Luna and the bookish Hermione. Hermione had become Luna's partner in setting up The Rubeus Hagrid Home for the Care of Magical Creatures, using her fast-growing reputation in the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to secure funding for their combined hospital-and-shelter.

Draco thought Dumbledore would have approved.

"About time! You'd best come in by the fire and warm up," Hermione chided Ron, when he, Harry, Draco, and George wandered into the kitchen, stamping snow off their boots. Gemini, Rose and James filed in behind them, their cheeks rosy from the cold.

Harry walked over and hugged Luna, who was helping Scorpius decorate sugar cookies with green and red icing. "You look beautiful," he commented, holding her at arm's length to study her.

"Thank you," Luna replied happily. She enjoyed being pregnant: Not everything about it was fun, of course, but being a mother fulfilled Luna in a way she could never have imagined. The only thing that compared to it was being Draco's wife.

Draco, Harry and Ron moved off to help Mrs. Weasley finish setting the table for dinner. Luna smiled at her husband, watching him surreptitiously. At seventeen, she had thought him the most handsome boy in the world; he had only gotten better-looking over the last decade, in Luna's opinion. He wore his sleek blonde hair a bit longer now, so his bangs were always falling in his sapphire eyes, and despite the fact that he spent most of his time in front of a typewriter, he had remained lean and athletic. Luna had seen first-hand that he still turned heads as he strode down Diagon Alley in his sharp black suit and newsboy cap, his signature look as editor-in-chief of The Quibbler.

Luna suspected no matter how long they were married, Draco would always be able to make her go weak-kneed just by walking into a room.

Hermione turned to Luna, drawing her attention reluctantly away from her husband. "We've settled on a name for the baby," she announced, Levitating the turkey out of the oven and setting it down on the counter. "Arthur Hugo, after Ron's dad and mine. We're going to call him Hugo."

"That's lovely," Luna declared, meaning it.

"We've decided on a name, too," Ginny spoke up. She was setting a sleepy but finally wakeful Albus onto his feet, where the little boy toddled off toward his dad, who had come back into the kitchen with Ron and Draco in search of more forks. "We're going to call her Lily Luna."

Luna felt tears spring to her eyes – happy tears, nonetheless the product of hormones, as she wasn't normally a weepy sort of person.

Across the room, Harry met her eye and grinned. "For two of the bravest women I know," he called.

"You notice we never get kids named after us, Weasley?" Draco put in, his sardonic grin showing he was only joking.

"Yeah, I have noticed that," Ron agreed. He turned to Hermione with a look of mock indignation. "What's wrong with 'Draco'? Or how 'bout 'Bilius'?"

"I think Bilius is a fine name," Draco argued, simply to annoy Hermione, Luna knew.

"See there?" Ron challenged his wife. "Malfoy knows a good sturdy Weasley name when he hears one."

"Ronald, I would never say this to your mother, but 'Bilius' is a horrid name," Hermione retorted, earning a snort of laughter from Harry.

"I think we should name somebody Whiskers," Ginny offered teasingly, smirking at Draco.

"Goodness, boys, haven't you found those forks yet?" Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, though her smile kept her from sounding too severe. "C'mon, you lot, before the food gets cold!"

Draco, Ron, and Harry each took their wives' arms as they made their way into the dining room, where a veritable feast was laid out across the Weasleys' enormous dining room table – a gift from Draco and Luna two Christmases ago, when Mrs. Weasley had declared that the family had finally outgrown the old one.

Walking alongside Harry and Ginny, Draco asked, "Given any more thought to coming to work for a real paper, Mrs. Potter?"

Ginny laughed. "I didn't know Quidditch was of great interest to The Quibbler."

"Well, every now and then we do take a break from serious journalism," Draco joked, earning laughs all around.

Under Draco's direction, The Quibbler had become much more than a tabloid. Although Luna was proud of the work her father had done, she had to admit, she was even more proud that nowadays people said The Prophet reported the facts, but The Quibbler reported the truth.

Xenophilius had quickly realized he had a true prodigy on his hands after Draco had come to work for him, and within a couple of years, Luna's father had happily started spending more and more of his time traveling around the world to exotic places in search of the mythic creatures he so adored. Draco's way of doing things had from the first brought in more than enough money to finance Xenophilius' excursions. What made The Quibbler so successful, in Luna's opinion, was that Draco had learned not to doubt the impossible: He wasn't afraid to follow a hunch, to get to the bottom of a mystery, and as such The Quibbler had become known for hard-hitting investigative journalism, in-depth commentaries, and its specialty, a groundbreaking section on International Magical Life which kept the wizarding world far more connected than The Prophet had ever done. Though Draco did much of the writing himself, the magazine employed a full staff of world-traveling reporters, including Lee Jordan, the mastermind behind "Potterwatch," Seamus Finnigan, and his wife, Parvati Patil.

Xenophilius also contributed content from his many journeys: accounts of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, Wrackspurts, Nargles, Yetis, and dozens of other magical beasts. In fact, Luna's dad continued to write the occasional guest column from Greece, where he had retired three years ago after officially signing The Quibbler over to his daughter and son-in-law. The most recent column had been a brilliant treatise (in Luna's opinion) on the Blibbering Humdinger.

Soon, they were all settled in around the table, enjoying a delicious spread only Molly Weasley could have put together. As they tucked into second helpings of pudding, Gemini suddenly bounced out of her chair and hurried over to Harry, placing the drawing she had made for him on the table.

"Happy Christmas, Uncle Harry," she announced.

Luna slipped her hand into Draco's under the table, squeezing his fingers, as he peered over Harry's shoulder for a look.

Gemini had drawn two stick figures standing side-by-side near a black lake. One figure had a lightning-shaped scar etched prominently on its forehead; the other had a curious gray mark on its left forearm – a snake slithering out of a skull's mouth. Behind the figures loomed a large white sepulcher.

Luna knew where Gemini had gotten the idea for her picture, because it hung over the fireplace in their living room: a framed front page of The Quibbler, published just days after the Battle of Hogwarts, showing Harry and Draco standing together in front of Dumbledore's tomb. Luna well recalled that morning, for as Harry had stepped up to stand beside his old enemy, it was the moment when she had seen the deepest wish of her time at Hogwarts fulfilled.

Harry and Draco had become friends.

"Thank you, Gemini," Harry said now, passing the picture around for the others to see. "That's a very nice gift."

"It's you and Daddy, when you were famous," Gemini informed Harry seriously.

"Daddy was famous?" James whispered from the far end of the table, looking wide-eyed at his father, as if seeing him for the first time.

Ron piped up with a wink at Harry, "Nah, I was really the one who was famous, kiddo. You ask anybody, they'll remember the name Ron Weasley."

Laughter broke out around the table. Luna, her hand clasped in Draco's, surrounded by her family and friends, privately remarked how wonderful it was when life turned out to be better than a fairytale.

Because Voldemort's death had not been their happy ending after all. The Dark Lord's defeat had been only the beginning of their greatest adventure yet.

Life.

The End

THANK YOU for reading this entire story! Do you know how much I love you? The greatest pleasure for any writer is to be read.

And to that end, I would ask, if you enjoy good fiction (or, at least, my writing), that you go visit my profile page and see where to find my original fiction! I promise to continue writing fanfics as well, of course, but it would be wonderful to have you, my dear ones, read the characters which spring fully-formed from my own mind as well! xoxo Jesse Daro