Epilogue

Twenty Years Later

Theo pitched the Daily Prophet to the center of the table, the moving picture on the front teasing him. It had been years - twenty to be precise - that he was able to leave the magical newspaper about. It didn't give him the solace he thought it would. It became a deeply ingrained habit to hide such things, he hadn't so much as used his wand in years.

The picture showed the newly-made sculpture of a Phoenix soaring into flight in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. It symbolized the Order of the Phoenix, an organized group of the late Albus Dumbledore to fight Death Eaters and thwart Voldemort. They were given the credit for what Draco did, a man who never partook in such groups. It made Theo's blood boil, but who was going to listen to him? As far as anyone knew, he was dead, and since his changed lifestyle he preferred to remain that way.

Twenty years... It only seemed like yesterday he woke up in Lovegood's old bedroom next to Granger. He remembered panicking, fumbling over her neck and wrist for a pulse. He pressed his hear to her chest, desperate to hear a thud. He wanted more than anything for his "dream" to be just that - a dream. Needless to say, it wasn't, and their upward curved lips continued to haunt him.

When it was apparent that Hermione was dead, he left to pick up Draco's body. He was numb the whole way to England and to the old Malfoy Manor, but once he laid sights on his best mate lying motionless among the other bodies, he broke down. Literally. He fell to the floor, he screamed, and he had his inside ripped out. He cursed their identical smiles, their happiness at death.

Immediately after returning to Athens Theo went to the nearest Muggle hospital. After barely twenty-four hours she was still there, the toothless grinning Harriet. Grinning... Happy... Unbeknown to her, she had just lost her parents. But Theo understood then why they chose to be her parents, he fell in love with her just as easily as they did. She was precious. Theirs. His. Draco was such a sucker. Like him.

The last spell he cast was to "persuade" the nurse to give her to him. He left with her, and straightaway hid his wand behind a fireplace of his inherited house in England. He set up her room, and learned things the hard way, changing diapers, and warming bottles (seven of which exploded). And he thought all that Muggle studying in Hogwarts was useless! He was glad he had listened to his father. "Know your enemy." He snorted thinking about it now.

Every time Harriet cried, or giggled, or grabbed his finger he blamed Draco and Hermione. He blamed them for not being in her life, watching her grow up. He loathed them when she held her bottle on her own for the first time, her first word (unca), her first steps, even the first time she cursed when she fell off her bike (Theo was more careful about his language from then on). It wasn't until she was walking into a small brick building, her pink backpack bouncing with her skipping steps that he stopped blaming them. He knew Draco and though he hardly knew Hermione, he knew that if given the chance they would be in his place seeing her off to her first day of school. The only thing he didn't blame them for was adopting Harriet. No, she was the light in his dark life. His sun.

There was no need to give word that the war was finally over. After three days of calm, no mass murders, the hidden ones came out. It was like watching fearful cubs slinking out of their lairs expecting a predator to swoop in on them. They were easy to pick out of a crowd, they were the ones that were constantly looking over their shoulders. It would have been funny if it wasn't so sad.

"Uncle Theo?"

Theo smiled and pushed away from the table hitting the swinging door of the kitchen as he slipped into the lounge. His smiled widen as he saw his niece slamming the front door with her heel dropping a bulking case to the floor.

Black hair to her waist, the same bright cobalt blue eyes, and her glittering smile. He was horribly grateful that she wasn't Draco's and Hermione's blood daughter. He didn't know if he could take the gray eyes and bushy brown hair. It hurt enough to think their daughter would never know them.

She certainly made something of herself. She went through a university, and she took a career as a cop. Theo thought it coincidental since that was what Draco and Hermione were doing, acting as Aurors.

"Ugh," she groaned giving the room a once-over and walked over to the fireplace swiping her finger over the mantle and bringing it up to her face to examine. "Haven't you dusted?"

"Can't you see," he asked.

"I leave for a week with my friends and you can't even take care of yourself!"

"I take care of myself just fine, Harriet. What do you think I did before you were born?"

She shrugged. "You never talk about your past. You barely talk about my parents."

He knew where this was going. It always led this way when Harriet tried researching her parents. Nearly every year she thought that something would turn up, that she would find something that she didn't before. It was impossible since Draco wouldn't be listed in any Muggle papers and Hermione burned any records of herself before she went on the Horcrux hunt. "We don't know who -"

"Not my blood parents," she interrupted.

His heart retracted painfully. He found it odd that she cared little for her blood parents, but for her adoptive parents. Perhaps because she had a link to them through him.

It was not as though Theo never spoke of them. He told her they were like. Draco was a bully, Hermione was a goody-two-shoes. They were opposites in every way possible, and they were madly in love with each other. This never seemed to be enough for Harriet, she wanted to know more, she felt like she was missing something about them. And she was right. Not only was she missing them, she was missing the fact that they died for her and everyone else in the world. That they were the reason she was alive. She didn't know that, nor would she ever. Her parents were truly unnamed to the world. Forgotten.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A nervous habit. "Why aren't there any pictures?"

Because they magically move. "Because they burned in the fire."

"That's a lie, uncle! I searched the papers. There was no fire! There was nothing! I can't find their names! All I have is this ring to prove they exist!" She lifted her hand showing Draco's family crest on her right hand.

"Yes," he admitted walking forward and embracing her. Her arms were limp at her sides. "I'm sorry that you can't know the truth but know that they love you. I love you."

She lifted her arms to hug him back. "I know. I love you too, uncle. It's just that every year I think..."

"I know...You think you'll find something."

"There isn't, is there?"

"I've told you before..."

She sighed, disheartened. "I think it all adds up... That odd tattoo on your arm, the weird way there's no records... My name."

She was too perceptive. If she was Hermione's daughter, he would've thought she inherited that from her. "What's odd about your name? Harriet's perfectly normal." A little too normal, he thought, for a couple named Draco and Hermione.

"Harriet Ronda Theodora Malfoy? That's a mouth-full."

He laughed. "Harriet and Ronda is after two men named Harry and Ron. They were your mum's best friends. Theodora, is of course, after me."

She released him walking to the mantel, picking up the picture frame. Gingerly she touched the glass.

"I tried looking up them too, you know. There's nothing about a Ron Weasley and a Harry Potter. At least none that fit. It's like you made them up to give me answers and I know you didn't. There's the ring... And this picture that seems to be too real."

Theo peered over her shoulder at his small painting. Hermione was smiling, Draco wrapping his arms from behind her kissing her blushing cheek.

One night when Harriet was fast asleep in her cot, he painted the picture of her parents. She couldn't see any real ones without knowing what they were. It was the safest way and the least of what she deserved. She deserved much more, she deserved to have them alive.

One day, she would get a feel for the sacrifice they made. One day she would open up that frame and see her father's last letter to her and her mother behind it. For now, she wasn't ready. She thought she was, but Theo knew she wasn't.

"Tell me one thing?"

"Anything, Harriet."

"Did they die because of me?"

He touched her hair. "No. They died for you."

In her reflection her eyes shined. "I suppose that's all I need to know..."

"Yes," he agreed, "that's all you need to know."

A/N: My thanks goes out to all of the reviewers! You certainly lightened up this story with your comments, reactions, and questions. It's such a joy to hear what you have to say. Thank you!

I'm working on another Dramione story. I can't say when it'll begin posting, but I can say that it's much lighter than this.

For my own entertainment I started a fanfiction based "journal". If you're curious you'll be able to see it in the homepage listed in my profile. I know many people don't check profile's but I found many homepages I've liked through them. It's quite interesting in the least.