A/N: I'm sorry for disappearing. There were some RL, personal things.

We have made it! This is the last chapter. Can you believe it?

This has been such an amazing and fun journey. In the beginning, I had so much of this written. I've never had so much prewritten before starting to post. But I think it made this story all the better. I poured over the prewritten chapters, editing them, adding to them, turning 4k chapters into huge monster chapters at times.

I very much enjoyed the last six months of posting and of all of your comments. Thank you all.

Thank you to CJRed, the Alpha for this story. Your input was invaluable.

Now, here it is. I hope you enjoy the final chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Five- Eighth Year

Hermione

The mid-December rays of the enchanted ceiling glittered off the glass goblets on each of the four tables in the Great Hall. A new year. A new start. A new regime.

Easy banter filled the air- a lighter atmosphere despite the heavy losses of the previous year. Students sat scattered among the scarred tables, houses intermixing for the first time in living memory. Ravenclaws sat with Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors with Slytherins, and any and every combination in between. Though there were many students missing, the pall of fear that had hung over them for years had dissipated. But somehow, despite the endless funerals of the last six months, people were again smiling. Even if the sadness still tinted their world, there was healing. There was relief and hope and excitement for a newer, better world.

Term started in September, right on time, and it felt as if Hermione never missed a day of classes, even if an entire year had elapsed in between. Rebuilding after the battle took longer than anticipated and no one returned to classes after the final battle. For the first time, Hogwarts was closed from Christmas to the start of a new year in September. But with many volunteers, the school was repaired and ready in plenty of time.

Earlier that morning, Hermione settled into the Gryffindor table. She was primed and ready, waiting. She watched the massive doors like a hawk.

"Morning, Hermione," Harry said, as he lowered himself gracefully onto the bench opposite. Right in her direct sight. She narrowed her eyes at him and leaned toward Neville to see around him. He was annoying her on purpose. She just knew it.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Ron sing-songed as he sat next to Harry. Again, in her way.

"Gah!" she said, waving away the two boys, and slid further down the bench, pushing poor Neville into the lap of a pretty sixth year Hufflepuff to have a clear view of the entrance.

They snickered and began eating.

"Ready for the match today, Harry?" Ron asked while shoveling potatoes in his mouth. Since coming back to Hogwarts, Ron bowed out of the Quidditch team with good grace. It was really the glory and attention he had sought, and he had more than enough attention these days as a war hero. Although, he did enjoy playing Quidditch for fun. Matches, not so much.

"We are going to wipe the floor with Slytherin," Harry boasted with a huge smile.

Hermione snorted, still staring at the doors.

"Who are you going to root for, Hermione?" Ginny asked curiously as she took another bite of egg.

"Gryffindor. Obviously," Harry said immediately.

"If you say so," Hermione said in a trilling laugh.

Then the doors opened, and the biggest smile transformed her face. Her heart raced and she pressed her knees together in automatic response. Hermione sat there breathless.

Draco Malfoy, in full Quidditch gear, walked through the doors, laughing at something that Theo said. His shoulders were broad, and his body toned, all the late nights at quidditch practice carving their mark on his body. His blond hair had grown and tickled the back of his neck, pushed back and mussed as if he had running his fingers through it. Draco Malfoy was beautiful, and Hermione couldn't tear away her stare. She watched with baited breath as the two boys made their way to the Slytherin table. Just before he sat down, he caught Hermione's stare and winked. As if he knew the effect that he had on her. As if he knew from the moment that he walked into the Great Hall that she would be watching.

She blushed, looked away then quickly back, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, catching the tender flesh captive.

His eyes darkened as they followed the path of her abused lip and his smile turned feral, but still, he stayed seated next to Theo. However, his eyes never left her, not even when Theo began elbowing him in the side.

"Ugh," Harry said wrinkling his nose.

"Shut it, Potter," Hermione said. Ron snickered louder and Harry stabbed his eggs.

"So, you are going to cheer for Slytherin?" Ginny asked again. She tried to come off as nonchalant, but Hermione could see right through her. It was curiosity more than judgment that sat on her face and Hermione wouldn't begrudge her friend the information.

"I'm cheering for Draco," Hermione confirmed. "But I also am cheering for Harry,"

"You can't cheer for both teams, Hermione. That is just mental," Harry sputtered.

"I can root for whoever or whichever team I want," Hermione said belligerently.

Then Hermione's attention was once again dragged to the Slytherin table as Draco- who had touched nothing on his plate that Theo piled on- rose and sauntered over to the Gryffindor table. He kept his eyes on Hermione as he rounded the end and slid onto the bench between Hermione and Ginny.

"Morning, Love," He murmured into her ear, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

The blush on Hermione's face deepened but she leaned into her once nemesis and placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Morning,"

His other hand quested under the table, rubbing the exposed skin of her knee, pushing his palm just slightly up her leg. Not enough to be indecent, just enough to get her heart pounding and force the memories of the last several months in Malfoy Manor to the forefront of her mind. Those sleepless nights in his bed. Their sweaty bodies gliding against each other. Sexy shower touching that got no one clean.

"Need I remind you two of the agreement you made with me at the beginning of the year?" Headmistress McGonagall asked sharply from behind them. Hermione startled and looked up in confusion. Hadn't she just been sitting at the head table buried behind the Daily Prophet?

Draco took back the hand caressing her knee, but from the way he stiffened and the way his arm tightened around her, she could tell he was thinking of making a stand. At the last minute, he seemed to deflate. Just a little.

"Of course not. And we haven't broken our word to you. Neither will we," Draco said through gritted teeth and a smile.

McGonagall's lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. "Make sure you don't,"

Draco rolled his eyes as she walked away and if Hermione thought her blush was bad before, it was positively flaming now.

Harry walked around the table and sat on Hermione's other side, making Neville slide down even more. Neville seemingly had enough and with a disgusted growl abandoned Gryffindor for Ravenclaw. Harry threw his arm around Hermione, knocking Draco's arm off her shoulder. With an innocent face, he said, "just helping you both stay out of trouble,"

Hermione's nose flared like an angry dragon and she glared at her best friend, shrugging his arm off of her. "We talked about this Harry. Stay out of it and don't touch me as if we are dating."

Draco leaned back and caught Harry's eyes and smirked as he slowly slipped his arm back around Hermione's shoulders.

"Whatever," Harry said with bad grace. Then he took a deep breath and sighed, rising from the table. His teammates rose with him as if they had been waiting all along for his signal. "See you at the Pitch, Malfoy,"

Draco threw Harry a nod and filched a piece of toast from Hermione's plate. "Are you going to sit with Theo?"

Hermione snorted and took the last bite of toast in her own hand. "Sorry. I already said I would sit with Ron and Luna,"

Draco nodded and slid the Slytherin scarf off of his neck and wrapped it around Hermione's, running his fingers lightly over her collarbone. "Wish me luck,"

"Good Luck," she whispered, fingering the green and silver fringe, staring him in the eye. She was so hot, she thought she would combust.

Draco leaned in, eyes stuck on her lips, before looking quickly around the Great Hall. When it was clear the head table was mostly abandoned and none of the remaining professors were looking their way, he leaned in to capture her lips. As far as kisses went, this one was quite sweet. Mindful of their audience of first years at the opposite end of the table, it was just a press of lips, but it made Hermione's heart flutter in her chest and her lips tingle with need under his. It didn't matter that they had been married a year or that they had spent the summer learning each other's bodies. Their relationship felt new and exciting. Maybe it was because their whirlwind courtship had been overcast with the war, disturbed by the weight of impending doom. Maybe it was because of all the people they lost along the way. Maybe it was because they never got to just be dating teenagers.

Either way, Hermione couldn't help her low moan or the heat that quickly gathered at her center.

"You are going to be the death of me," Draco panted quietly.

Hermione laughed. "I think it is the other way around,"

"The moment I get you home and into bed for Christmas, I am not going to let you out until we are forced back on the Hogwarts Express," He growled.

Hermione's breath caught and she looked down at his hand that once again found the skin of her knee. He didn't try to slide his palm further up her thighs or take any extra liberties but that was almost better. The excitement between them was building and building and building. She had no doubt that he meant every word he said. And she would be a liar if she didn't admit to wanting exactly the Christmas he outlined.

"If you don't leave soon, you will miss the match," Hermione whispered.

"Fuck the match,"

She snorted and rose from the bench, ignoring the frustrated look on Draco's face and the way he ran his fingers through his blond hair. She reached for his hand and tangled her fingers in his, pulling him with her.

Theo met them by the door with a wry smile and Draco's broom. The rest of the Slytherin team fell into step behind the three of them as they made their way out of the castle and down to the pitch.

Draco

It was a little more than two weeks until Christmas and snow swirled outside as the Hogwarts express barreled down the tracks, making its yearly Christmas trek to London with a full load of students. Usually, they would have spent another week and a half at Hogwarts, but families wanted their children home longer this year, the holiday was no longer the joyous occasion it once was. Not with all of the losses being so new. However, despite that, the Christmas spirit had pervaded nearly every corner of the train as students loudly celebrated the end of term and the freedom of the Holidays with loud and often obnoxious renditions of popular carols.

Draco lounged against the door to an empty car, picking nonexistent lint off of his expensive robes.

"Alright there, Mate?" Theo asked as he glanced into each car he passed, just as he was supposed to, being head boy and all.

"I'm good,"

"And you are standing out here because…?"

Draco gave him a pointed stare.

"Right. You are waiting for Hermione," Theo rolled his eyes but couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. His bright white teeth sparkled, either from the intensity of his amusement or the floating lights. Draco really couldn't say.

"Obviously," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Good luck," Theo snickered, turned around, and began to whistle.

Draco's heart pounded in his chest as a compartment door down the line slid open and Hermione walked out. She was so beautiful, it made him ache. She was everything good and beautiful and right, and she was all his. Until death, do they part.

He took a deep breath and reveled in the lavender and honey scent that proceeded her. His erection was steel and immediate. He couldn't stop his reaction to her if he tried. Although living like a monk for the last several months had been a special sort of torture. McGonagall was a woman of her word. She once told him that she would make him regret his part in Albus Dumbledore's death and she had. She was quite creative. The promise that she extracted from Hermione and himself at the beginning of the year was every bit of the punishment her eyes had promised in that year Snape was the Headmaster.

For the children, she had said. Even though Hermione was married to him. Even though neither of them were virgins any longer. Even though he had made Hermione scream in ecstasy in Abandoned classroom three in their sixth year. Not that McGonagall knew that, per se. And even though McGonagall knew that he knew how to be discreet, none of that mattered.

Nothing more than run of the mill, innocent touches and chaste kisses on the cheeks were permitted. And they both agreed. Was there any real way to refuse when Hermione's Head Girl status was held over them?

And he had been so good, toeing the line.

But now… now, the temptation of having her was whispering devilishly in his ear. He could have gone into the compartment and rode with Pansy while Theo and Hermione patrolled the train. He could have. But the wild side of his brain taunted him, whispering in his ear. McGonagall will never know.

His Slytherin brain ramped into high gear and within moments, he had concocted the most delicious scheme. Which was the entire reason he was now leaning against an empty compartment, watching his wife as she sashayed down the hallway, pretending that she wasn't as hyper-aware of him as he was of her.

"Everything okay?" Hermione asked as she approached him, her head canted in question.

"There is something you need to see," He murmured and gestured to the compartment behind him.

"Oh?" she asked and stood on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder and through the glass window but was unable to see a thing. Exactly as he intended. "What is it?"

Draco opened the compartment and waved her in. She passed him, sliding her delectable body against his, and looked around in bewilderment, seeing nothing.

"I don't see anything,"

Behind her, the compartment door snapped shut, and the lock clicked audibly into place. The windows of the door and those that overlooked the moving landscape slowly frosted. Hermione twirled around in surprise.

Draco leisurely tucked his wand into an inner pocket of his robe and shrugged the heavy material off, tossing the garment onto the seat. "That's because you weren't looking at me,"

Hermione raised a single brow and bit her lip, watching avidly as Draco slowly unbuttoned his white Oxford. Her breath caught as his shirt gaped open and Draco smirked wider knowing the sight of his toned torso was a particular weakness of hers.

"And what am I looking for?" Hermione asked in a strangled voice when he reached for his belt and then the placket of his trousers.

"I'm in pain, Love. I've been in pain for months. I need you,"

Her eyes softened and her tongue flicked out to wet her suddenly dry lips. "I need you too,"

His shirt joined his robes and his belt hit the floor with a thud. His pants followed closely behind, and he stood before her in all of his naked glory. The way her eyes blazed a trail of sizzling lightning down his body only made his already excited body, even more so.

Draco reached for her and ran his hands over her clothed curves, unable to help the groan that slipped from between his parted lips. This was the perfect ending to his perfect week. First, Slytherin crushed Gryffindor even if Potter did catch the snitch. Now he had the only woman he would ever love as passionately in his arms. Heaven wouldn't be as sweet.

Hermione

Hermione's heart raced as her fingertips traced the outline of Draco's muscular chest, stopping once or twice to caress his flat nipples. The way he rippled under her soft caress was everything.

Draco lifted her and laid her back on the seat, finally closing the distance between them and captured her lips. She was drowning in him, that intoxicating musk wrapping around her, holding her captive. Licking at the seam of her lips, he wordlessly begged entrance and eagerly she opened for him, sucking on his tongue the moment he invaded her mouth.

His husky moan was every bit an aphrodisiac as oysters and strawberries were purported to be, she decided, wrapping her legs around his naked hips.

She trembled as he slid his hand up under her skirt, palm smoothing over her thighs, fingers hooking over the elastic of her knickers. Drawing the lace down her legs, he sat on his knees, reluctantly drawing away. Hermione made a small sound of protest, snapping his gaze to her face, a cocky smirk on his lips.

Then he tossed the filmy green knickers to the pile of clothes on the other bench and came back in to feast on her lips. His hips rocked into her, his hard cock was trapped between them, rubbing up and down her wet slit with each grind of his pelvis.

"Unbutton the top three buttons," He murmured as he left her lips to suck and nip her neck.

With shaking hands, she struggled to pop the buttons, her mind distracted by the rasp of facial hair as he brushed against her neck. The moment the buttons were undone, he buried his face in her cleavage, nipping at the soft pillowy flesh. Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tangled the fingers of one hand in the fine hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying the soft growl and harder buck of his hips in response.

Reaching between their bodies, Draco fisted his cock, rubbing the tip against her needy clit until she couldn't stand another moment of the too slow rubbing. She needed him to go just a little faster. Just a little faster and she would shatter in his arms.

But instead of giving her body what it so desperately craved, he lined himself up at her entrance and pushed in, luxuriating in the tightening silk. Her gasp was punctuated by the quickening slap of flesh on flesh as he thrust increasingly faster, chasing after the sweet release that he could only find with her. Hermione threw her head back and arched, rolling her hips for the glorious rubbing her clit received on his groin.

Just as she was rushing headlong into bliss, he stopped and pulled out.

"On your knees," he growled.

Hermione reached up and pulled his face to hers and licked his lips, teasing him before finally turning over.

She heard his harsh breathing and smirked, looking back at him over her shoulder. He pushed her skirt over her hips and lined himself up, both hands holding onto her hips for dear life. He sunk to the hilt with the first flex and his head fell back, his mouth open with euphoria.

There was just something about this position that drove her wild. He hit something deep within her, something that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. He brought her higher and higher. And suddenly his arm reached around her hips, his fingers moving over her clit with precision. Draco had learned her body so well. So bloody well. He was a master musician, strumming her body perfectly. A virtuoso who knew her body as well as his own, each movement a flood of pleasure.

Her thighs trembled. Her abdomen clenched. Gasping and moaning in time to his thrusts, she exploded, climaxing so hard that she saw stars. Her body convulsed and spasmed around him and he rode her hard through it, a string of curses falling from his gritted teeth.

Moments later, his thrusts stuttered and stilled. "Bloody fuck," he groaned as he slowly rocked with each new spasm to his completion, his seed filling her lithe body.

"I've missed this," Hermione breathed.

Draco laughed and sat on the seat, pulling her onto his lap, despite his release trickling out of her body. He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling the smell of her. "Me too. I thought my balls were going to be bruised until the end of time."

"Is that a real thing? Blue balls?"

"Yes." He said tightly, clearly unwilling to elaborate but she was curious. Although she spent that last several months in unfulfilled arousal and frustrated to the max, she wasn't in pain. However, it seemed to be different for him.

"Six months. Six more months. Then I am all yours."

"You say that like six months is a short time,"

"Isn't it?"

He groaned. "No,"

When the train began to slow, they cleaned up and redressed, eager to disembark and return home. The second they were through the front doors of Malfoy Manor, they froze, stopping to look around and appreciate what Narcissa had done for them.

Christmas hit the Manor like a bomb. Narcissa had the house decked out like Buckingham Palace, each room more elaborate than the last.

Fairies twinkled around each garland and wreath. Swags hung heavy with holly; berries attached. Mistletoe grew over every doorway, entrapping the young lovers consistently. Not that either of them complained. Narcissa did all of this for the newly married couple, knowing that coming home to an empty house would have been depressing. She had decided after Lucius's death to move into the Dowager House, siting the many memories of Lucius that haunted each room she walked into. Her gift to Draco and Hermione had been creating a homey, loving atmosphere for them to come home to.

To be fair, she had warned them at the start of term when she watched them walk out of the protection of Malfoy Manor to apparate to King's Cross Station that she was going to have the Manor fully decorated. She had not lied.

Hermione looked around with a tad bit of awe. Narcissa had really outdone herself decorating for the holidays. But it was tastefully done. Classy. And not for the first time since Hermione moved into the Manor, she marveled at what her life had become.

Narcissa, though a smidge offish, was always, always kind. They would never be bosom buddies. Never have the closeness she might have had with a pureblood bride. But that was okay. Empires weren't built overnight and as long as Narcissa tried, Hermione would too.

Draco was unquestionably the man of her dreams. Each moment with him was more wonderful than the last. But the one thing that made her fall for him even harder than she already had was the fact that he tried so damn hard. Constantly, he was reaching out to those in need, overcoming the lies of his upbringing. He went to every funeral. Every single one. He wanted to make up for all the things wrong he had done, coerced or not, didn't seem to matter to him. He wanted to be a good man and strove for it.

"Sweetheart, have you seen my Quidditch gloves?" Draco asked, walking into their personal sitting room where Hermione sat drinking her honey laden tea. "I've looked in my trunk and I can't find them anywhere."

"Why do you think I would know if you don't?" she asked, a hint of amusement pulling up the corners of her mouth.

He settled his hands over his hips and sighed. "Where did I drop them this time?"

"The stairs leading out of the Slytherin Dorms. Pansy sent a first-year to me,"

"Of course she did," he said wryly. "because she could have just sent a firsty to give them to me. But she likes giving you ammunition."

Hermione snorted and waved her hand. "They are in my beaded bag. Be warned, it's a mess in there."

Hermione lifted the teacup and closed her eyes, luxuriating in the early morning ambrosia.

"Uh, Hermione?"

"Yeah?" she called, eyes still firmly closed.

"What's this?" Draco asked.

She popped open her eyes and looked at the leather book held up in his hand. Scrunching her brow, she reached for it and flipped it open.

This journal is the property of Ianthe Belby- Documenting Experimental Amortentia and its side effects.

"Oh! Oh! Oh my…" She said standing up quickly flipping through the journal. "That bastard. That meddling but only in a roundabout way bastard!"

"What is it? What's wrong?" Draco asked

"He must have known that you repressed my memories. But why give it to me then? I only thought it was more information about Merope. But now… Oh ho ho! It makes so much sense now!"

"Hermione?"

"Albus Fucking Dumbledore," She cussed.

Draco's eyes widened but the question was still there, hanging between them.

"Last Christmas, Dumbledore sent this to me, saying that it may be useful to me. I spent quite a bit of time reading it, then forgetting it. Basically, it details the trials of Amortentia. But not just any Amortentia. The exact kind that brought you to me," she finished.

His brows rose into his hair and he took the book and began flipping through. "So was it still in our system, even after the antidote and time?"

"Belby claims that those with a romantic connection have a heightened awareness of feeling for the person they like. Not because the potion was still in our systems, but it is more like a suggestion that you can't get out of your mind. A song you can't stop singing. She claims those that didn't have a connection did not suffer these effects. How much more potent it was because I was the first person you saw after being dosed; I couldn't say."

"So you are telling me that Dumbledore knew and did nothing," Draco said. "No. Not nothing. He let us explore those feelings without keeping you from me. What if he was trying to save me by encouraging my connection with you?"

"Why send it after I had my memories repressed?"

"Because he is a romantic. Wanted to give me another chance to win you over, I'm sure of it."

"You have one hell of an opinion of Albus Dumbledore," Hermione said.

Draco reached out for her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close and burying his face in her neck. "Does it matter why? Does the how matter? No. Only two facts matter. One, our feelings for each other are real and two, without the Amortentia I wouldn't have you. I would have never gathered the courage to defy my father or the Dark Lord. I would have done exactly as I was told. I would have never switched sides during the war. I thank Merlin for that vial of Amortentia every day, for bringing you to me. It changed the entire course of my life in the best possible way."

Draco

Two more weeks passed, and Christmas morning dawned brightly over the pine trees at the edge of the Malfoy property line. Hermione and Draco were wrapped around each other, the sheets tangled with their limbs, their bare bodies glistening with the morning light. Draco was the first to blink open his eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he traced Hermione's bottom lip with his thumb.

"Happy Christmas, Love,"

"Happy Christmas," she mumbled back, burrowing into Draco's shoulder and pressing her naked body against his side.

"Happy Christmas to me," he groaned as her small hand reached between them and grabbed the base of his hard cock, slowly rubbing her thumb over his slit, spreading the salty pre-come around his head.

"Mmmmm," Hermione hummed in agreement, a wicked look in her eye. She shimmied down until she was settled between his muscular thighs and her lips were poised and open, ready to take him whole.

The sight alone was something Draco knew he would never forget. She was so beautiful with her mouth wrapped around his cock. However, she barely made one pass before she was up and off the bed, running to the bathroom, and retched into the toilet.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, rushing into the bathroom behind her and gathering all of her wild curls out of her face.

"I wanted to wait and tell you," she breathed, setting her forehead on her arm which was slung across the toilet seat.

"Wait to tell me what?" he asked softly, rubbing her back in easy, firm strokes.

"I'm pregnant,"

Silence.

"What?" He said.

"I'm pregnant," Hermione calmly repeated.

"I heard you the first time," he said, sounding extremely winded as if he spent the last several hours in a grueling Quidditch training session. "How? When?"

Hermione snorted weakly. "The Hogwarts Express,"

"I'm going to be a father?" he asked and began violently trembling. "I don't know if that is a good idea,"

"It's a little too fucking late for regrets, Draco!"

"No, that isn't what I meant. I don't regret anything. I just… What if I become like my father?" he whispered.

Hermione wiped her mouth and reached out for Draco pulling him close until their foreheads were touching. "You will be an amazing father, Draco. There are many ways that you will never be like your father. But a least in one way, I hope you are."

"What way?"

"He loved you so much that he died protecting me. For you. For your happiness."

Tears burned his eyes and he squeezed his lids shut in an effort to stuff them back, but it was too late. His breathing was ragged, and salty tears of joy and sadness intermingled on his cheeks.

"I'm going to be a father,"

"In August,"

A whoosh of air left his lungs and he smiled, wiping at the tear tracks. "August? You fantastic, amazing woman." He ran shaking fingers over her flat tummy, knowing that the silly grin that grew on his face was layered with male pride. "I love you so, so much, Hermione Malfoy,"

"Draco," she said, smiling. She leaned in, intending on rewarding him with a sweet kiss only to turn and vomit spectacularly in the loo.

He resumed rubbing her back, keeping a tight hold on her hair to keep it out of the way. A huge smile on his face. He was going to be a father.

Snape

How in hell they found him in Leeds, Snape had no idea. One minute he was lounging in his chair, Potions Academia on his lap. The next, he was at the front door staring down the blond little shit whose wellbeing was still tied to his own from a once necessary unbreakable vow.

Snape growled. "How the fuck did you get past my wards?"

"Lovely see you too, Godfather," Draco Malfoy smirked. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"Bloody hell," Snape grumbled, turning abruptly on his heel, leaving the door open. He was hoping that without an express invitation, Draco would bugger off. But as Snape looked back over his shoulder, he saw his godson enter his home and softly close the door. "Well?"

"I have a son," Draco said proudly. "Scorpius,"

"Wonderful, another Malfoy brat. The world is complete,"

Draco snorted and collapsed onto Snape's couch sans invitation. He laid his head back, a big stupid smile on his face. "I know I wasn't such an energetic child at his age,"

"HA! You ran both of your parent's ragged," Snape griped. "You were the worst child to watch,"

"Worse than Hermione?"

"I will have you know that although she was a terribly annoying student, she has grown to be a good conversationalist."

"How would you know," Draco said, nearly melting into the worn cushions of Snape's couch.

"I ran into her a month ago. She made me dinner. Hugely pregnant. Let me tell you, I was sure she was going to catch the place on fire. Surprised me, she did. And she is a wonderful cook."

"Cooking is her new hobby," Draco said, wrinkling his nose. "She is incredible at it now, of course, but in the beginning… The fucking mushrooms. Wouldn't let it go. Couldn't stop making mushrooms until she could live off the slimy fuckers,"

Snape snorted. "Poor you,"

Draco nodded as if he really was, as if Snape hadn't been sarcastic. Snape rolled his eyes and kicked Draco's boots.

"Ready?"

Draco rose as if he was fifty years old and rolled his shoulders. "I can't remember the last time I slept through the night,"

Snape deadpanned, no pity at all in his gaze.

"What are we making today?"

"Remember the Experimental Amortentia?"

"How could I forget?" Draco chuckled, rubbing his hands together.

Fin