Three years later-

A month after the final battle, the war had officially ended. Although there were casualties on both sides, great things rose from the ashes of the battles. Hogwarts had reopened, thousands of people acting under the Imperius curse were freed, and all surviving Death Eaters were locked away.

Except for one.

Draco pulled up his sleeve, again looking at the mark on his arm. It was no longer cold, but it hadn't faded in the least. A stark reminder of what he had been forced to become.

He had almost gotten shipped off to Azkaban. There were over two weeks of court cases and hearings, two of the most nerve-racking weeks of his life. But eventually, upon hearing everything his situation had to offer, Draco had been declared innocent.

After that, he and Hermione had officially started up their relationship again.

At first Draco had been skeptical, not sure it was real or would actually last, but as the months ticked away without a problem, he grew more and more sure of what he was doing. Just over a year after the war, he proposed.

Now it was his wedding day. Draco remembered over three years previous, looking at himself in the mirror. He remembered his sunken eyes and pale skin, his hollow cheeks and his shocking resemblance to a walking corpse.

It was appropriate then, that after how much he had changed, his appearance would be altered as well. Now, his lips were always curved into something like a smile. He had color back in his face, and although his eyes were still hard, they were no longer desperate or angry. All because of one single person, a person who he wouldn't have dreamt of ending up with in a million years.

How ironic that the Death Eater Slytherin would end up marrying the bushy-haired Muggleborn that held the Golden Trio together.

"You done checking yourself out, Malfoy?" Harry asked, peeking his head in through the door. Draco glared at him, but there wasn't any malice in the look. Although he and Potter had never really hit it off as friends, they got along well enough.

"No, not yet. It's an enjoyable pastime, Potter, when the mirror doesn't shatter the moment you look at it."

"Funny, Malfoy. Now you should hurry up, or-" A head of shining red hair poked her face into the room over his shoulder. Draco groaned. It seemed like the Weaselette was never away from Potter for more than two seconds, and watching them together was disgusting. He loved Hermione, but he didn't go around cooing and acting like a love-sick puppy.

"Don't listen to him Draco-"

"Malfoy."

"Don't listen to him Malfoy," Ginny said with an eye roll. He didn't know if it was because the annoying girl was Hermione best friend or what, but she had an annoying tendency to think that the two of them were now friends or something of the sort. "You have five minutes." Then she glared at her boyfriend and slapped his arm. "Can't you see that he's nervous? Don't you dare tell a worried groom to hurry up."

"I am not nervous," Draco drawled, taking one last look and liking that for once, he didn't look like his father. Sure, the hair was the same, and the eye color, but his face shone with a poorly concealed happiness that made all the difference in the world.

"Sure you aren't," Ginny said, ducking under Harry's arm and latching onto Draco's hand. "Now, are you ready?"

"Yes," he said with a sigh. Ginny beamed.

"Great. Come on."

Then she dragged Draco past Harry, who actually was decent enough to give an apologetic smile, and out into the courtyard of Malfoy Manor.

Draco tore his arm out of Hermione's grip once they were in public view, not wanting any of the spectators to see the ball of energy bouncing around his arm, and took his place in front of the alter. Moments later, the music started, and Hermione appeared on her father's (Draco still got nervous around her Muggle parents) arm.

His heart shot into his throat, and it was all he could do not to rush out there and wrap his arms around her and kiss her senseless. She was beautiful. No, not just beautiful. Radiant. When Hermione reached him, he couldn't resist reaching over and taking her hands in his.

Vows were exchanged, and in no time, Kingsley uttered, "You may kiss the bride."

Very gently, Draco took her face in his hands and just barely brushed his lips to hers.

When he pulled back, Hermione stood there, looking at him with tears in her sparkling eyes. Draco knew that despite everything he'd been through, it was worth it. He'd do it again twenty times if he could still have Hermione after everything. He loved her, and no war, or evil wizards, or even despicable family members, could change that simple fact.

Just two years ago, he hated her. People would rank the possibility of him marrying her with Professor Snape getting together with McGonagall, or Neville getting an O in potions. But it happened. The impossibility had turned into a sweet miracle. It had to be some present from the Gods, and Draco was never, ever going to let that present go.