A/N: Thank you so much to reviewer who told me I copied this out twice! I'm sorry about that- anyway, it's normal now!
I love the Ministry, honestly. It's all just fabulous to be stuck doing paperwork for two and half hours when all I want to do is go home. Nowhere I'd rather be, honestly. Being glared at by a bunch of Aurors who backed out of their duty for two years and didn't even bother to try while the rest of us were laying out lives out.
It makes me wonder why we bothered at all some days. I did not abandon everything I had ever known or loved just to be glared at by some idiot who can only see my name. I had that before and I fought to get away from it.
"I am leaving now," I said, before he put another sheaf down on the desk - I didn't know his name, only vaguely recognized him from the aftermath of a battle. I didn't even remember which. "I have put down every possibly applicable piece of information and I am now leaving." I smiled and stood up.
"You can't do that, sir," he said, looking at me strangely. I sighed, I hated it when they did this. Most people have taken to thinking of me as a hero- but some are still convinced that at any second I'll burst out into demonic laughter and admit that I've been working for the Dark Lord all along.
"Am I under arrest?" I asked impatiently.
"No, sir."
"Then there is absolutely nothing stopping me from going home to my daughter and my girlfriend," I said. And it felt like my stomach was on fire to refer to Hermione as that, like my blood was warmer than usual.
"Well, no, but sir-"
"Goodbye," I said, and walked out of the room and, without stopping, onto the street and I Apparated back home.
It's still strange to call this place home- it's so different from the Manor, with all its white and black decoration. The lushness of the red brick of the house and the green of the garden are in such stark contrast to every memory of my childhood that I can barely believe them to be part of the same world. Mind you, this isn't nirvana, the whole house lived in virtual chaos and at least three people got punched in it every week. But it's warm- that's the only reason I'm still here. If you can't understand it in those two words, you can't understand it at all.
Hermione and I met at the door- she was cradling a cup of tea in her hands and I could see Harry and Ginny cuddled behind her on the couch- their sons in their arms, the one Ginny was holding fussing a little. Sabin was lying, asleep, on a blanket on the floor. It became very clear how many bassinets we'd need to own as I hurried over to pick my daughter up.
My daughter.
It's a strange concept; my daughter. Sabin Malfoy- it tastes strange on my tongue, sweet, almost. Hermione had settled on the stairs by the time I get back, she was dressed in a brown sweatshirt and a long skirt- she looked soft, relaxed, and warm. Like the house. Like this life.
"I was holding her before," Hermione said, moving closer to my arm and sliding hers through it. "I'm almost sure she hates me."
"Well, she'll probably hate me, too, given enough time," I said, grinning. It's easy between us, it shouldn't be but it is. I'm fooling myself- this isn't easy. This was the first flush, everything was going right. Everything we ever do together will be war- whether it's on each other or on absolutely everything else. But we've got determination, strength, a past and commitment. She will not watch me die; I will not watch her fall. We've got things we don't need- like our history, in all its scarred fragility. All it's battles, everything we remember about each other is either excruciatingly painful or I come out looking incredibly bad. Oh, there's the odd glimpse in the past few months of the stuff that's going to keep us going. There's whatever weird combination made me fall in love with her. But most of it- the base of it- that's the part we're going to try to forget, that's the part that's going to eat away at us.
But she laid her hand down on my knee, smiled; touched my daughter's hair and I could remember that it's not always so bad.