A/N: I swear this isn't an advertisement for The Woseley in London lol. Hope you enjoy the epilogue. Thanks again for following and reading! PM me if you have any ideas or inspiration for building this story out more.
Draco impatiently paced the penthouse suite of the hotel. He was set to portkey back to London that day after having consulted on a complex case at his old hospital in Paris. He stopped and chuckled to himself, realising that he was in this same hotel room a year ago, nervously anticipating taking Hermione out on their first date—probably even pacing the same path. But this time, he was pacing to try to make time go faster. Draco would be proposing tonight at The Wolseley over a spread of every dessert on the menu, just like their first date. There was no other way to describe it except that he felt so sure—so sure of himself, so sure of them, so sure this was meant to be.
…
"Welcome back to The Woseley, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."
She followed the maitre d' across the zig zag patterned floor to a table as round as her. Draco helped her ease into the black leather chair before seating himself. Hermione was extremely pregnant with their second child and extremely ready for their yearly spread of éclairs, truffles, macarons, tarts, cakes, custards, ice cream, and more.
"Happy anniversary, my love." Draco smiled at her softly from across the table, the happiness reaching his eyes easily. She smiled back, her heart fluttering just as strong as all the times before.
"Happy anniversary, Draco." Hermione paused and looked down at her bump, giving it a loving rub, "and hopefully soon, a happy birthday to Scorpius."
…
Draco swore he felt some déjà vu as he leaned back into one of the armchairs at Grimmauld Place: his godson James was giving his daughter Astrid a piggy-back ride while his little son Scorpius and Albus Potter chased them around the living room—all four kids giggled with glee.
"Scorp and Al are going to be trouble when they get to Hogwarts in a few years, aren't they?" Harry strode in from the kitchen and handed him a beer before plopping into the adjacent armchair.
Draco grinned and shook his head at his best friend, "They sure will, Harry, but honestly, Astrid is going to shake some boots—with my Slytherin ambition, her mother's swottiness, and both her mother's and my looks…she's going to be breaking hearts and ruling the halls."