Recap:

"I love you, Harry."

He kissed the top of her head and held her close.

"I love you too, Hermione."

She was hugging thin air before she realized he was gone.

"Oh God," she whispered, easing herself onto the couch. "Bring them back safe. Please God. Please…"

End Flashback:

Chapter 14: The Duel of the Century

"This is going to put a serious dent in my pride," Draco said.

"Don't bother," Harry said. "Somehow I knew you weren't as evil as you liked everyone to believe."

Draco nodded, as if he actually believed this was a sufficient enough way to leave the situation that had only just occurred. He was aching to get back to Hermione, to cradle his babies in his arms, but there were certain matters that needed his immediate attention.

"I can stay and explain everything," Harry offered, noticing the conflict in Draco's eyes. Truthfully, Harry really only had Hermione in mind. He knew she would want to see Draco as soon as possible to ease her heart and allow her worries to cease. But the more he thought about it, the more he found that he was not at all regretful of the fact that he'd saved Draco's life. He still had a million and one unanswered questions floating through his mind, but those could wait.

"No," Draco insisted firmly. But he wasn't fooling anyone. "This is my problem. I caused this mess. You go to her."

"But she wants you." It was hard enough admitting it to himself, let alone out loud to his worst enemy. But times were different, they had been different ever since Harry had discovered Hermione's deepest secret, a secret that would have brought the trio's entire realm crashing down in the flick of a wand had it been known while they were still at Hogwarts. Circumstances being what they were, however, gave Harry something of a glimmer of hope.

"They're going to wonder why I'm not here—"

"Go to her," Harry pressed, motioning in no specific direction. "Dumbledore will be here any minute. He'll understand." Draco was about to open his mouth, when Harry raised his wand. "I'm serious, Malfoy. Go."

And he did.

The silence was numbing. The stillness was excruciating. But the pain, that was perfect, because she now knew, without a doubt, that she loved the father of her children. There would be no great search for her true love, for he was already found. And if he did not return…

But she wasn't going to think about that right now. No, she had to keep her mind on non-self destructive thoughts. Think of the girls, her babies—little brown-eyed Scarlet; fiery blue-eyed Jade, so much like her father. Like Draco. Like the man she loved.

By now Ginny knew about her and Draco. Dumbledore's sudden appearance at her and Harry's house would have instantly sparked her interest; Ginny could be the most persuasive person sometimes. And if Ginny knew, then Ron knew. Her world was forever changed.

How could I think he would never find out? she thought, her cheeks pressed up as she sat, elbows to knees, on the edge of the couch. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it didn't matter if Ron was angry with her. He would get over it, the same as Harry had. And if he didn't, then he wasn't the true friend she thought he was, because if he couldn't accept her, flaws and all, then he didn't deserve her.

With a huff, Hermione stood—unable to take it anymore—and rushed to the portable playpen on the other side of the room. Her babies lay curled, sound asleep and safe. Scarlet's little thumb was jammed in her mouth. For Jade, it was her foot. If she hadn't been so deathly afraid for Draco's life then she would have laughed. How precious they were, a part of her and Draco, a symbol of their relationship and the love she now knew they shared. It didn't mattered that they had only just realized it, or that it had taken them so long to find each other. What mattered was that it had happened at all, and that she had her true love. No one could ever take that fact away from her.

He was for her and she was for him, and he was standing right behind her.

She turned so fast on her heels that she almost fell over.

"Draco," she breathed, not entirely believing that he was actually standing before her. She collapsed into his arms, pulling his head to hers in such a furious motion an onlooker might think she was trying to hurt him. "I love you," she cried frantically, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. "I love you, Draco. I love you so much. I love you."

"Then it's a good thing I risked my life for you."

"Don't make jokes," she half laughed, half cried. "I-I…I thought I'd never see you again…I thought you would never know that…that I love you."

He kissed her wet cheeks and smiled. And that's when she noticed his appearance. His face and hands were covered in a thin layer of dirt. He had a rather gruesome bruise on his right cheekbone, a cut lip, and a gash over his left eye. His gorgeous white-blonde hair was mussed beyond recognition, and there were various cuts and tears all over his clothing. She didn't see his wand, but didn't ask. All she cared about in this moment was that he was there, alive, and in her arms. Hers forever. Forever.

"You look great," she said, unable to keep from kissing him every couple of seconds. How anyone could love someone as much as she loved him was beyond her. She was in agony with love, and it was so sweet and perfect, so real. It was all that she ever wanted.

"Thanks," he laughed, brushing a knot of soiled blonde hair from his crystal blue eyes.

"No really," she insisted, completely serious, and brought her lips to his. "You're here." Kiss. "You're alive." Kiss. "You're mine." Kiss. "You're perfect."

He pulled his head back and looked long and hard at her, the woman he loved, the only person compassionate enough to take her chances with him, the only person with the capacity to love someone like him. He had been so cold and ruthless with her; he was the luckiest man in the world that she could see past all that and still love him.

Draco scooped her into his arms and brought her to sit on his lap on the couch. Elated, she didn't question him.

"I have to tell you something," he sighed, not looking at her. "Hermione," he said, "I couldn't do it." His voice was trembling to the point that she thought he might cry. "I couldn't…I—"

"Couldn't do what?" But she had a very good idea of what he was talking about. A tremor ran through her, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the man who consumed her entire being.

"I couldn't…I couldn't…kill them…I tried," he said, grabbing her hands, his eyes wild and shimmering with the threat of oncoming tears. "I held my wand out…I repeated the curse over and over in my head…but my mouth, it wouldn't move. I couldn't do it…"

"They're in Azkaban, then?"

He let out a piteous moan, crushing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to quell his emotions. She couldn't even begin to understand what he was going through.

"Draco—"

"Please," he whispered, pulling her roughly to him. "Don't."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Hermione." He kissed her head, burying his face in her silky chestnut locks. "I love you…"

Ron stepped awkwardly into the room, his eyes searching for any place to land other than her face. His wild red hair stuck out in all directions, and his shy jade eyes were rimmed with pink.

Everyone was there, but no one spoke. This was something that had to be done without assistance or intervention.

"Ron," she finally said, stepping towards him. He froze immediately and flinched. She sighed and took a step back. "I never meant to hurt you," she whispered. Nothing could have stopped her tears. "I love you, Ron. I hope you know that."

The only indication that he was even listening was the quiver of his bottom lip.

"Ron, please," she begged. "Say something. Yell at me. Anything."

On the other side of the room, Draco—with Jade and Scarlet in his lap—withheld his groan. No matter what, he would always be jealous of Ron Weasley and the loving relationship he and Hermione shared. And not to mention Harry, who kept sneaking glances at him from behind his redheaded friend.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but instead—startling her—practically leaped forward and caught Hermione in his arms. For a moment she couldn't speak. She couldn't even think to conceive of what was happening.

"You're alive," he whispered, and kissed her cheek. "You're alive, and that's all that maters." This time Draco did make some small, irritated noise, but no one seemed to notice. And that's when he realized that this is what it would be like for the rest of his life. Him, Hermione, and the girls, and everyone else in her life that hated the mere mention of his name. They would be forever skeptical of him, thinking that he would turn on them at the drop of a hat and become the parents he so viciously loathed.

But, as he observed Hermione, he knew—somehow, without a doubt—that no matter what they could never be separated. No matter what anyone said or did he would still love her and she him. The big step was over. Everyone knew, but all they seemed to worry about was Hermione and her daughters' safety. That they didn't even so much as glance at him didn't bother him. He would have gladly died for her and the girls.

Thinking back on his old life, the "glory days" at Hogwarts, he found that he didn't miss a single one. Not Crabbe. Not Goyle. Not even Pansy, and the way she followed him around like a lost puppy. He didn't miss the power or the fear he instilled in the hearts of his peers. Most shockingly, he rather liked the idea of being happy and normal and ordinary. He would be the first Malfoy in history to humble himself, take a muggle-born as a bride, and raise a non-corrupt family. He was no longer a high-society Pureblood. He was simply: Draco Malfoy.

"Draco."

His eyes snapped up, falling on the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Let me take one of the girls."

He looked around the room; everyone's eyes were on him and Hermione. The awkwardness had shifted. They expected something from him. And he hadn't the foggiest idea of what.

He stood, and Hermione gently took Scarlet from his arms. Immediately he felt the difference, the lightness of just one child. They were halfway to the kitchen—intending on fixing some lunch for the girls and the others—when the universe tore open.

"Draco."

He turned around, unable to place the hollow feeling in his gut. He wanted to say hunger, but knew it was far from that.

"Yes?" The room seemed to jump to life. And then he knew, the thing they had been waiting for. They wanted him to speak, to acknowledge someone other than Hermione and his daughters.

"We're never going to be on good terms."

He nodded.

"But that doesn't mean we can't be civil, for Hermione's sake. For all our sakes."

"I agree," he said, wondering where this would lead.

"Also, I want to…to thank you. We owe you Hermione and the girls' lives. And their happiness."

And for the first time in his life, he didn't immediately spew out an insult. In fact, he couldn't even think of one.

"I'm not my parents, Weasley." Ron smiled awkwardly and looked away. "I feel the same way as the lot of you. And if we're going to be civil, then you—all of you—are going to have to trust me. I'm not out to get anyone...Not anymore."

In the doorway, Hermione let out a scoffed laugh. Draco spun around and glared at her.

"You're classic, Draco," she said.

"And you, Hermione—" Everyone's ears perked. "—are perfect."

He wrapped his free arm around her waist and kissed her sweetly on the mouth.

"Come on everyone," she said. "I'm starving, and it's Draco's turn to cook. You're in for a real treat."

Flashback:

"Come on, Draco!" Narcissa screamed, sticking her neck out. It was the only body part she could move, as she and her husband were still bound with Harry's powerful bidding spell. "Do it! Finish us off!"

He held out his wand, his arm steady, but his soul quivering. This was exactly like that night in the Forbidden Forest, when he'd said those same words to Hermione, when he'd been using her, molding her to be his perfect toy. In the end, however, his conscience—something he never knew he possessed—won out and he confessed his wrongs. His plan had backfired on him; he'd fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

"You're weaker than I thought!" Lucius hissed, his murky blue eyes reflecting Draco's.

"Shut up!" Draco demanded. He jabbed his wand into his father's gut. He had the words on his tongue. The curse. The simple phrase that would end all his and Hermione's worries. They would be safe, the girls would be safe. If only he could do this; if only he could kill his parents.

"Kill us, son!" Lucius laughed. He knew exactly what was running through his head. The same thing that every "hero" thought. They were too good to inflict fatal harm on their enemies. The Malfoys would not die today, and not at the hands of their only child, their once seemingly pride and joy.

"Strike us dead!" Narcissa echoed. "Kill your parents. Your flesh and blood."

Draco took a deep breath and lowered his wand.

"I knew you didn't have it in you," his father scoffed. "You're not worth the name Malfoy. You're not worth that wand you wield."

"And you, father," Draco spat, his eyes laced with tears, "are not worth the death I'd give you."

"We cannot be held in Azkaban." His voice was calm and cold. Draco suppressed the urge to slap him. "The Dementors are gone. And no matter where you go we'll find you."

Draco flinched, but held his ground. He would not kill his parents, no matter how they taunted him. They were his parents, the people who raised him, no matter what they'd done. How could he end their lives? If he did, he would be just the same as them. But, if he did not, then how could he ensure the welfare of his family?

He swallowed a lump in his throat and raised his wand. It was either his conscience, or their lives.

A blinding light ripped across the lawn, crashing into Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. They gasped and sputtered, their bodies twisting and convulsing on the ground.

And then they were still.

Draco blinked back tears and stared at them in stunted silent horror.

"There was nothing else I could do. They were right, Azkaban could never have held them without the Dementors."

Harry stepped into view, but Draco didn't seem to notice. His eyes were still on the lifeless forms of his parents. He still couldn't believe they were dead.

"I had to do what was best for everyone."

"I know…"

"And I understand why you couldn't do it."

Draco sighed and looked up, his fingers still tightly grasping his unused wand.

"They were my parents," he whispered, and the wand slipped from his hand, lost in the wild over-grown grass.

"I'm sorry, but—"

"Don't be. I'm glad they're gone."

End Flashback:

"I've been thinking," Hermione said, twirling herself slowly around the bedpost, before settling on her knees at the foot of the bed. Draco moved his head slightly, in a motion to show he'd heard her, but didn't look up from that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. He'd been reading and re-reading it all day. And he'd hardly looked at Hermione, let alone touched her.

She hadn't seen the paper today. She didn't care what it said. Not anymore. Nothing mattered now; nothing except her family.

"Draco?" She crawled forward, sticking her face over the top of the paper.

"Yeah?" It didn't look like he'd slept a wink the night before.

"Are you alright? You've been acting weird today."

"As opposed to what?" But there was no conviction in his voice. He sighed and handed her the paper.

Her expression went from playful to confused to almost frightened in one fluid motion. The Daily Prophet floated to the floor; neither bothered to retrieve it.

"Th…They're dead?" she managed to push out, her chocolate eyes vacant and unseeing.

"Yes," was all he could say.

"Did you—"

"No," he said quickly. "Potter had to…I didn't lie before, Hermione…I really couldn't do it…"

"Because you love them." It wasn't a question.

Draco leaned forward, snatched up the paper, and held it in front of her. It took all her inner strength to not look away from the sneering faces of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy—old archive photos from the Ministry. They would never have printed images from the night before.

"They would have killed me, after killing you and the girls, if they didn't think they could force me to do their bidding." His voice was so calm and calculated, one would think he was reciting a speech. It chilled her to her very core. "These people," he stressed, jabbing his finger at their faces, "are not my parents. They're nothing to me. I may have been loyal to them, but never because I wanted to, and never because I loved them."

He ripped the paper away, crumpling it into a tiny ball before he continued.

Hermione didn't even try to speak.

"If I killed them last night, I would have done exactly what they wanted…I would have become just like them." He turned to her suddenly, and no matter how hard she tried to repress it, the gasp came out. His softened his features in an attempt to calm her. "I was seconds away from killing them, Hermione," he said, taking her face in his hands. "After all my hesitation, I was still going to do it. I realized that if I didn't they could still hurt you and the girls. And if I didn't have you anymore—" Emotion was quickly seeping into his words. His voice was slightly off, his eyes misty. "—then what would my honor be worth? What would it matter that I'd triumphed over them once?"

"What happened, Draco?" she whispered, unable to hold her tongue any longer.

"I think I was halfway through the curse," he said, "when Potter stepped in…I hardly remembered he was still there, until I saw them…die." He lowered his eyes, ashamed. "Why did he do that?"

"He wanted you to have both," she said, pulling his face up to kiss him. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."

"I'm a coward," he snorted, disgusted with himself.

"You are Draco Malfoy. You're the man I love and the father of my beautiful baby girls. You're strong and distant and stubborn as hell. You're a hundred different things, Draco, but a coward could never be one of them."

"Herm—"

"I accept your offer, Draco."

"My offer?"

She smiled knowingly and tackled him to the mattress.

"I want to be Mrs. Hermione Malfoy."

I hope that was thrilling enough for everyone, heehee! As you can see I love flashbacks, so fun:D Should I make an epilogue? I'm thinking about it, maybe a wedding or something. Or like a few years in the future. Let me know what you think.

And, as always: REVIEW:)