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Epilogue

"What the hell am I doing here?" Draco asked through a false smile. It had taken his wife a decade to work up the nerve to attend a Ministry gala in honor of the Second Wizarding War's fallen.

"Keeping your wife from pitching herself off the Astronomy Tower," Hermione replied as they entered the Great Hall arm-in-arm. The hall was packed - The Minister of Magic, Ministry delegates, mid-level employees, even the secretarial pool joined those who fought bravely and survived the battle. Familiar faces smiled and blurred together as the couple made their way into the gathering. "I'm jealous of a nine year old right now."

Draco chuckled as he grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby tray. "Drink up, love. We're in for a long night," he cautioned, handing her the glass after taking a sip. "Crazy, isn't it? Ellie will be here in a couple of years."

Hermione groaned as they joined Harry and Ron by the bar. Over the years, her friendship with Ron had been repaired, and he and Draco had come to be friendly acquaintances. The foursome greeted one another with hugs and handshakes. "Ellie isn't going here," Hermione announced. "And when Ariella is old enough, she's not going either."

"So what? The brightest witch of our age is going to homeschool her daughters until they're old enough to work?" Ron wondered.

"Oh, she's never letting them leave," Draco replied. "They'll stay home, take care of us in our old age, never marry. While I'm a big fan of my daughters never be exposed to boys, I think it's a bit unrealistic to keep them locked up forever."

Hermione glowered, but the men ignored it. "Your opinions on the matter don't count until you've given birth," she told them.

"Two of us are fathers," Harry pointed out. "I'm not crazy about shipping off my kids either, but they need to be educated. Plus, there are no madmen hellbent on eradicating the non-purebloods anymore. The place has never been safer than it is now."

Hermione knew he was right. There were no Voldemorts, no Lucius Malfoys, no Carrows or Lestranges. Her girls would be safe. Headmistress McGonagall had far harsher rules and punishments for purebloods who mocked the "lesser born". Yes, her daughters would be safe at Hogwarts.

"They'll be fine," Draco whispered, kissing her temple.

"Am I really the only one who worries about this?" Hermione wondered. "Am I the only one who worries that something or someone might threaten the school again? We can't protect them here."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You can't protect them anywhere," he pointed out. "Eleanor has lived with the two of you long enough to know how to defend herself, both physically and verbally. By the way, who teaches a six year old the bat bogey hex, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "It was easier to teach than jelly legs," he responded. "Ari's getting her lesson next week. And you thought kicks to the shin were bad."

Hermione chastised them both as numerous former classmates came to greet them. In the crowd, Draco was easily able to slip away. He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the stairs. Wandering aimlessly, he found himself at the Astronomy Tower, and was surprised when he wasn't alone.

"What brings you here?" Neville Longbottom asked, making his way toward his former tormentor. Ten years later, he was tall and had thinned out. Draco no longer scared him; after the war, there was very little that did. Draco extended his hand, eyebrows rising in surprise when it was accepted. "Hermione dragged you here, didn't she? I only come because I'm teaching here now. Otherwise, I...I don't know that I'd ever see any of these people again."

Draco shrugged as he surveyed the space they currently occupied. It was often the setting of his nightmares. If he closed his eyes, he could picture Dumbledore falling, falling, falling to the ground below. Instead, he removed a silver flask from his blazer pocket. "She thought it appropriate given the anniversary," he remarked. "Though I think both of us would rather be home. I was the bad guy, after all. I don't really belong here."

Neville snorted. "Hermione wouldn't still be with you if you were still the bad guy," he said. "Besides, I watched you during the battle. There were more protection shields coming from your wand than killing curses. Tell me something - have you ever actually used the killing curse?"

Taking a swig, he shook his head and passed Neville the flask. "According to my father, I was always too much of a coward to use it," Draco shared. "At least I'm not locked in a cell anymore."

"It wasn't much better on the outside," Neville muttered, staring down at the dark grounds. "I'd rather be the ignored, sometimes teased, little kid I used to be than the 'hero'. I still haven't gotten used to the attention. You'd think that it would have died down by now, but not a day goes by that someone doesn't want to discuss the war with me."

Draco took back the flask and drank. "Eleanor was six the first time she saw the mark," he recalled. "She thought I'd stuck my arm in the fire, and the faded mark was a burn. I should have lied."

"She would have read about it eventually," Neville interjected. "We adopted, Hannah and I. He was a war orphan, and from the time he could speak, that was all he asked about. He was five when we adopted him, and the orphanage made sure he knew his new father was a war hero, the guy who cut the head off Voldemort's snake. Jason - that's his name - he tells everyone he meets that his dad is Neville Longbottom."

"Pretty sure I don't have to worry about that," Draco joked. "No one brags about the Death Eater who knocked up the war heroine before going to prison."

"My, you two are depressing."

The pair turned to find Hermione standing behind them. Draco quickly hid the flask and smiled at his wife. "This place doesn't exactly inspire the warm and fuzzies," he retorted. "What are the chances you came to find me to tell me we're going home?"

"Oh, did you want to leave?" Hermione asked, feigning surprise. "McGonagall invited you to spend the night in her personal quarters. Now, I found it strange, but you know I'm not one to judge."

Draco grinned ruefully. "And yet I'll be the one remembered for being cruel and evil," he remarked.

"She's a war hero," Neville reminded him. "She could murder a family of cats, spike the punch at the Yule Ball, and set your house on fire, and she'd still be seen as a hero."

"Your mind is a dark, scary place," Draco replied.

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Neville's always had a wonderful sense of humor. Perhaps you should have given him a chance when we were younger," she chided.

"She's right," Draco said, stepping towards a stunned Neville. "I'm sorry."

The men shook hands for the second time, and Neville smiled. "Forget it," he replied. "And don't the two of you be strangers. Ten years is too long to go without seeing you, Hermione." He passed them, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and disappeared from sight.

Alone, Draco leaned against the railing. "Did you stay away from these people because of me?" he wondered. "Because you knew they wouldn't approve?"

Bothered by the sudden change in his demeanor, Hermione maintained her distance. "No," she told him, sure he did not believe her. "I mean it. I had my own reasons for staying away, and none of them had to do with fear of their approval. Being back here, even ten years later, I regret coming back. It's easier to not think about it when we're not forced to think about it. Seeing this place, these people, makes me think about it. You and your mother provided me plenty of distractions after the war, and then Ellie came along to keep my mind off it. I don't like thinking about this, sweetheart. It's cowardly, I know, but just once I'd like to not be the brave Gryffindor."

His arms were soon around her as she broke down. "It's not cowardly, love," he murmured, kissing her hair. "The only thing I ever expect from you is to just be you. You want to be distracted, I'll help. You want to throw things at me, I'll stand still. You know I'll be there when you want to cry or laugh or just not talk. I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry, love."

Taking a deep breath, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. "Don't be sorry. Just...let's go home," she said. "Let's tuck the girls in and curl up with a movie. Or they could stay up and watch with us. Let's just spend the night with them instead."

Nodding, he led her back through the castle without saying his own goodbyes. Once outside the Hogwarts gates, he Apparated them home. Narcissa looked up from her book and frowned. Carefully, she moved the little, brown-haired three year old's head from her lap. "Isn't it a bit early for the two of you to be home?" she wondered, concerned that something had happened at the gala. Shaking her head, Hermione passed by her mother-in-law and picked up Ariella. The Malfoys didn't speak until they heard Ariella's door close upstairs.

"We're fine, Mum," he assured her. "No one was mean to us. No one tried to shame her into divorcing me and taking the kids. It was just...too hard being there. I don't really want to talk about it, and I know Hermione doesn't either. Is Eleanor still awake?"

Narcissa confirmed that she was, and Draco made his way to her room. "I thought we were parent-free tonight," she commented when he entered. "Nan said the biker gang and keg are arriving in an hour."

"You're nine. Please act like it," Draco replied, sitting at the foot of her bed. "I don't like my little girl surly and sarcastic. Your grandmother would tell you you'll never find a man with an attitude like that, but I suddenly support it now. Carry on."

Laughing, Eleanor closed her book, tied back her shoulder length locks, and curled up on his lap. "Is this better, Daddy?" she asked. Draco nodded and gave her ponytail a gentle tug. "Was it bad? Mum looked like she was crying when she passed my room. Should we watch A League of their Own or It's a Wonderful Life?"

"You pick," he decided. "And let Nana handle the popcorn. The last time you did it, you blew up the microwave. You know your mother loves...lives for the microwave."

With a roll of her eyes, Eleanor left her father and bedroom for the living room. Seconds later, after taking a look at the clutter of books and clothes and blankets, he went to his youngest daughter's bedroom next door. "She's so precious when she sleeps," Hermione whispered, smoothing back Ariella's hair. "She's always been such a good sleeper. Only woke up for a few seconds to tell me I look pretty before falling back to sleep. How did we get so lucky, Draco?"

He had a feeling she wasn't only referring to their children. Her thoughts were on the people who died or suffered life altering wounds in battle. She thought about Ginny Potter who spent years struggling to conceive before giving birth to James six years after she and Harry had married. The war had torn apart families, but had also brought a new family together.

Kneeling beside the bed, Draco leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I don't know. We just did," he murmured. "Tell me something - are you happy with the way life has turned out, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Carefully, she rolled over to face him. "You know, I really am."

The End.