Getting Through Tomorrow

Epilogue

Nineteen years later . . .

Malfoy Manor sparkled as bright as the crystal winter sky above it while witches and wizards from all over the world arrived in their elegant winter robes. Candles adorned every windowsill, and colored lanterns enhanced the beauty of the luscious gardens. Flowers of every season were magically enhanced to bloom across the manor's extensive grounds. The rococo ballroom would soon be filled with cheerful holiday music and loud conversation as the guests enjoyed a variety of exotic foods and spirits.

Draco Malfoy had started the annual ball at Malfoy Manor seventeen years ago to encourage hope and celebration in the dreary aftermath of the war. In the beginning, it had taken place in early spring, and the Ministry had made a deal with Narcissa Malfoy to hold a fundraiser for war orphans in conjunction with the ball. As several prosperous years passed by in Wizarding Britain, and the orphans grew up to have families of their own, it became time to reorganize the popular ball.

It was Narcissa's youngest son's first year out of Hogwarts, and she had asked him to choose the date of this year's ball. He had chosen Christmas Eve, which was his favorite day of the year. He had also suggested to Narcissa new plans for a fundraiser to help poor families during the holidays. He was an intelligent, loyal, and handsome wizard, and he was also a good man. After being Head Boy at Hogwarts, Thomas had chosen to become an Auror like his childhood hero, Harry Potter. Harry had even agreed to mentor the boy during training.

Thomas Marvolo Malfoy knew his true history. Lucius had told him the story of his biological parents before he had even started school. Telling him had been an unfortunate necessity because Thomas shared more than a name with his biological father. They also looked so much alike that Ginny Potter was never comfortable in his presence. There wasn't anyone in Wizarding Britain who didn't know about Lord Voldemort's successful plot to take the Ministry and the terrible regime that followed.

Only those closest to Harry Potter and Tom Riddle really remembered what Voldemort had looked like as a boy. The Potters and their social circle assumed that Thomas Malfoy was the love child Bellatrix Lestrange and Tom Riddle. It was the only explanation that made sense to any of them. In their minds, Bella was the only woman mad enough to name a child after a mass murderer. If they had ever bothered to look into the matter close enough, they would have discovered that Thomas was born months after the death of Mrs. Lestrange. As the child grew up, most people stopped caring about his uncertain past because it became apparent to them that he was a normal boy.

The details of his convoluted history never bothered young Thomas. His mother, Narcissa, was always teaching him to gracefully accept things that cannot be changed, so he usually did. He was born into a wealthy home to loving parents, and he was grateful for all that he had. His life wasn't perfect, but it was good. His biggest obstacle to overcome was meeting his birth mother, and he knew that he would finally confront her at the ball. He had known for certain that he wanted to meet her by the age of fifteen, but his parents had insisted that he wait until after he finished school. He had stolen glimpses of her in public his whole life, but now he could actually speak privately with her. He knew that she was scheduled to arrive with her husband very soon.

Music and laughter filled the crowded room, and several vapid young women tried to catch Thomas' attention. As he stood surrounded by giggling debutantes, he spotted her with his father, the Minister, and her husband. He politely excused himself and made his way to her.

Hermione was aware of him before he had even taken two steps in her direction, and she excused herself from her company and waited for him. She was always aware of him, and she was staring into his face with wonder as he approached her.

When he saw the way that she looked at him, he smiled. Offering her his hand, he said, "Would you do me the honor of sharing a dance with me, Mrs. Weasley?"

"I'd love to."

As they began to dance, Thomas said, "I've been waiting years for this moment."

She exhaled. "So have I. I've kept track of your accomplishments as much as possible. I'm so proud of you, Thomas, but there's still so much about you I want to know."

He looked serious, and he whispered, "I have a few questions for you, too. For example, I've always wondered if you are ashamed of me."

She placed a hand on his cheek. "No! No, don't ever think that. I love you. I . . ."

He placed his hand over hers and gently removed it from his face. "I know you're an emotional Gryffindor, Mrs. Weasley, but we are in public. People will talk." He was smirking.

She laughed at how much he sounded like a Malfoy. "Of course, I apologize for being so forward. I forget that people would obviously misinterpret my show of affection to you."

"Oh, I don't mind you touching me. I only wish you exercise discretion in doing so. We'll find a more private place to talk soon."

She looked close to tears. "Thank you."

"So, I want you to finish my answering my question, but I can tell that you are going to be emotional about it. Let's continue in my study, shall we?"

As he led her away from the ballroom, she mumbled, "You are so much like your father."

He frowned at her comment, but waited until they were behind closed doors to address it.

He shut the door and turned to her, using a firm voice. "I am nothing like Tom Riddle. I grew up listening to stories of how you, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter defeated that murdering monster. I've looked up to Harry Potter my entire life. Everyone in this house idolizes Severus Snape, and Tom Riddle murdered him, too. He forced my real father and my brother to do unspeakable things in his name, and one of the things I've been burning to know about you is how you could betray your friends by—by sleeping with that man."

Hermione sat down and prepared her long explanation. "Well, I can answer both of your questions in one go, it seems. You've just said it yourself. I desired the wrong man. I betrayed my friends, so how could I claim a son born from my betrayal? I stayed with you for as long as I dared. I gave birth to you in this very house where you were also conceived, and I held you in my arms almost constantly for weeks. I didn't want to let you go, but I knew that you would be better off with the Malfoys. The Malfoys would never judge you. They would never judge me. Some of my reasons for leaving you were selfish, and I know that. I am a coward, and I wouldn't have been able to face my friends had I come home with you. You have to realize that I was also protecting you. Here everyone loves you, but you would have had a much harder life with me. If I had been rejected, then you would have also been rejected. You most certainly would not have two loving parents. You would be the child of a miserable traitor. I couldn't let that happen. As it is now, your origins are a mystery. People accept you for your own accomplishments. Do you understand?"

Her wet eyes were silently pleading with him, and he took her hand and said, "I know. I only wanted to hear it from your lips. I worked out my issues a long time ago, but I needed to speak with you. I needed that last bit of closure."

"I'm glad you came to me, Thomas. I couldn't come to you. It had to be your decision. I know that you don't particularly care for Tom Riddle, but you are the best of him. You only have his good qualities. Remember that. You should be proud to be the last descendent of Salazar Slytherin."

"Yes, well, that's what my father says, too . . . I can talk to snakes." He grinned. "I used to frighten the other children when I was younger."

She laughed with him and looked at him adoringly. "You are such a wonderful, beautiful boy. I'm so proud of you."

"Mrs. Weasley, I know that you are famous, and you have a career and other family to worry about, but I really want you to think about telling the people you trust about me. Now that I'm an adult, it's what I'd prefer for our relationship. It's been almost twenty years, and I think that things have cooled down enough that you would be forgiven. I mean, my father was a Death Eater, but here we are at a ball with the most influential people in the Wizarding World."

Hermione was sobbing freely. She'd been trying to develop the nerve to tell Ron for years. Knowing that her oldest child would support her was a just the push that she needed. "You're right. I'm supposed to be brave, aren't I? My darling boy, I will tell Ron and Harry tonight if that's what you want."

"That is what I want, but I also want you to do it for yourself."

She held his face and kissed his cheek. "I'll do it for us."