Author's Note: This is the final chapter. Thanks for reading. I'm not sure if I will continue to post my works on ffn, but I will continue to post on AO3. There are several stories there that I did not crosspost here and I'm not sure if I will. I hope you'll follow me over there! Find me on twitter (xdarkofthemoon) and tumblr (darkofthemoonfic) xx Lu

The Order gathered in the Great Hall. The first time many of them had been there since the Battle of Hogwarts more than five years before. Hermione felt a strange sense of unease in the castle. It had been sealed, relatively untouched since that battle, but the scars were there. Chunks of stone missing from the stairs. Portraits removed, their former placements visible in the faded walls. Filch had cleaned up and the professors had clearly helped, but it was no longer the safe haven they'd all marveled at as children. It was a place were pain was felt and, despite their victory, it would remain that way forever.

Hermione looked through the small crowds, gathered into little pockets of friends and families. She greeted old friends, going through the motions of small talk and subdued cheer and congratulations. It felt strange to get to see them and hug them and know that they were all safer than they were just a day before. Because the war was truly over.

"What do you mean, permanent?" Hermione asked the day before, at the Inverness safehouse.

"We're bound in so many ways, you and I," he said, tracing the bones of her hand in his. "By our time together. In this place. With your rune. And now by blood."

Hermione smiled and tightened her grip on his jumper. "What's left, then?"

"Forever," he said softly. "That's what's left. Would you want that? With me?"

She felt the relief that he was there, the relief that she had saved him. And whether he knew it or not, the relief that he had saved her. "I think forever with you might be enough for me."

They breathed for a moment, holding their hands over each other's hearts. It was easy, she thought, to know that forever was all she wanted. As a girl she'd never given much thought to things like marriage. While other girls dreamed of white dresses and flowers and parties with tiered cakes, she'd never seen that when she thought of her own future. When she was very little, she saw adventure. When she'd learned of her magic, she saw opportunity. And when she lived through war, she saw nothing but the present. But when she was with Draco she saw more — it wasn't far into the future. They weren't old and grey and surrounded by grandchildren. And they weren't in some large house together. When she saw their future it was quieter. Simpler. Just being together. And oh, how she longed for that. For him.

"I don't know how to do it, exactly," he said, removing her hand from his chest and walking them towards the stairs. "But I've read about it and the most important thing is the feelings. Our magic does the rest."

"What is it, exactly?" She followed him up the stairs, briefly glancing in the hospital ward at the emptiness there.

"It's a certain kind of magical bonding. There's many in our world — unbreakable vows and secret keeping and marriage. This one's more rare. It's a bonding of souls."

Hermione nodded. "I've only seen it mentioned a few times in different journals. Do you know anyone who's done it?"

"My grandparents," he said, pushing open the door to her flat. It wasn't really hers anymore but it would always be their place. The one safe place they had for so long.

They crossed into the center of the room. The broken gramophone was still there. A few more cobwebs in the corners but otherwise it was the same.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked, squeezing her hand.

"More than anything." She stretched on her toes to kiss him. Feeling the warmth from his skin. So much warmer than when she found him.

Their clothes were tattered and stained with blood. Her hair had come loose from its pins, so she removed them. They looked like they'd been through hell, and in a way they had. A prolonged journey over years and across miles.

"First we have to put our hands palm to palm, like this." He raised his right hand and she met it with her left. Then he raised his wand in his left hand and pointed it at his heart. She mirrored him.

"I'm going to muck it up," he said, huffing a laugh. "I never know the right thing to say." It had been so long since she'd heard him laugh, even a little bit.

"It's just for us," she said, "and it'll be perfect."

Draco cleared his throat and looked at her, in that searching way he had. Like he could see to her soul. And perhaps he could. Perhaps that was why it was such an easy answer.

"Here is my hand. Here is my heart. The magic at the center of me flows into you." He spoke clearly and softly, and where their hands pressed together grew warm. "While we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. My hand, my heart, my magic. It's yours, and you're mine."

A golden light appeared at the end of his wand. "Now you, Granger."

She repeated his words. Eager to say she was his, and that he was hers. That what they had was theirs alone. Her magic reached for his, and it warmed her — comforted her. It felt like it filled the missing pieces, all the places where she'd lost parts of herself. From what she could have had, in the future, with her parents. With the friends who hadn't survived. With the dreams she had always thought possible and now she wasn't sure she wanted anymore.

It didn't heal the ache. Nothing would. But it comforted her, just like his hand in hers comforted her. How his touch and his kiss gave her breath and life when she wondered if she had much of either left in her. She pressed against him and he brought their lips together in promise. In prayer. An oath. A vow. Forever.

After a moment she pulled away. "We have to get you to St. Mungo's," she said against his mouth. There were diagnostics she'd need them to run.

"I'd like it known that I'm doing this for you instead of taking you to bed, like we both want."

Hermione held him tighter, tucking her face against his chest. Listening to his heart, steady beneath her. "Yes, you're very good at sacrificing," she said, and spun them through the air. Apparating to the hospital as smoothly as she'd ever done before. When they landed she said, "And I'm good at taking care of you."

"My night healer," he replied, placing a kiss on her temple.

It was late and the hospital was aflutter with activity, though most of it was in celebration. Patients greeting visitors and heading for the lifts. Hermione held Draco's hand, tugging him along to the emergency ward.

"Adrian," she called, seeing the wizard stepping out from behind a curtain. His mousy hair was cropped short and his beard had grown in. It was like when they were in healer training together, only with little strands of grey now.

"Hermione—and Draco, how are you, mate?"

"Fine—"

"He's not fine, he needs a proper scan and potentially blood replenishing potions. He apparated with very little magic after taking a curse to his side and is probably drained and—"

"The works it is," Adrian said with a reassuring smile. "Come on then."

They went towards an examination room, and Adrian stood awkwardly in front of the door. "Hermione, it's family only inside the rooms, I'm afraid. Might be able to get around it if you want to put on a Mungo's robe and say you're here to assist—"

"Granger stays," Draco said, his hand firm in hers. "No hideous robes."

"It's hospital procedure—"

"She stays with me. I—she's my family, as far as the definition goes."

Adrian looked around the floor and ushered them both in the room quickly.

The scans were mostly clear. Some bruising that was easily removed and a recommendation for rest and a good meal, but otherwise a clean bill of health. Adrian excused himself to check on his patients, leaving Hermione and Draco alone.

"I think we're supposed to go to headquarters," Hermione said. She stood beside the hospital bed where he sat, feet firm on the floor and knees apart. With one hand he reached for her wrist and pulled her closer.

"It will be crowded," he said, hands on her hips. He leaned his forehead against her chest and brushed his lips over her thin blouse, on her sternum. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair, so much longer now, and hummed in agreement. "We could probably arrive later and no one would—"

The door opened and Charlie Weasley greeted them.

"Malfoy, we're needed for one last mission. Robards and Dawlish have Greyback and his pack cornered. Nev's just gone and they need us."

He didn't seem at all surprised to see the two of them together. Hermione wondered if Draco talked to him about her. If they were closer than Draco had made it seem.

"Alright," Draco said, the muscles in his jaw clenched. "I need a minute first."

"Hermione, there's a few in need of basic medical attention at Grimmauld. Percy asked for you. And Mum said you can floo to Hogsmeade with the rest of the family so you're not alone," Charlie said. He smiled briefly. "I'll give you two a moment. Meet outside as quickly as you can, Malfoy. I want to join the party before it really gets going later."

He closed the door behind him and Hermione felt herself pulled into a tight embrace. Knuckles tracing her spine and tangling in her hair.

"Do you have to?" She asked, through she knew the answer.

It was a desperate kiss goodbye. One that ended too soon so she took a second. Gripping him tightly and feeling her pulse increase. When he pulled away he whispered, "I love you," against her lips and kissed her again.

"Forever and a day," she said, just like her mum used to tell her dad, as they parted at the door. Him, off to one last fight. Her, off to care for others.

He hadn't been to Hogwarts in years. They'd been close to it, a few times, for different missions. But the last time he'd been inside its walls he'd been on the other side, with his parents. Holding secrets and trying desperately to keep them all alive. But he'd failed at that. He was the last of his family. The last of two ancient houses. It was strange, that he didn't feel much of anything about that.

Instead he felt like so much more. He had everything he needed without names. That was all they were, in the end.

The Whomping Willow still stood. Hagrid had repaired the roof of his home. The damage to the stones of the castle was extensive, though the proud towers remained tall and strong. There was noise emanating from the walls. Not screams and the sounds of duels — laughter and conversation. What could have been music. He knew Granger was there, waiting for him. And that made his steps surer. His feet moving swiftly.

"In a rush there?" Charlie asked. He was shorter and stocky, and he liked to clap Draco on the shoulder and punch his arm. A familiar, brotherly bit of affection that Draco hadn't grown used to.

"I'm finally rid of you, Weasley, it's time to celebrate."

"Here I thought you wanted to get back to your girl," Charlie said. He kept pace, letting the rest of their group follow. It wasn't the first time he'd said it. For at least a year when Draco would get permission to leave after a mission, to go rest, Charlie would say something about his witch. His girl. The one who was waiting for him. Normally he brushed it off, ignoring the teasing. But tonight he felt more honest than ever.

"More than anything."

The doors were open, letting the summer air warm the stones and the people inside. Charlie immediately sought out a sea of red hair. There were a few dozen there, and he scanned over heads too short and around heads too tall until —

Curly hair and bright eyes filled his vision. He bent to wrap his arms around her, pressing her body against his. Whispering in her ear that they took out Greyback and the remainder of his pack. She asked if he was hurt. Pulling away enough to cast her diagnostic spell. He looked down at her. At the little line between her brows, furrowed in concentration and concern. And he held her again, whispering in her ear, "We're safe. We're together."

"Finally," She said.

They sat together on one of the benches. Her hand in his and their knees touching. Greeting friends and nodding when anyone asked about them. All throughout the celebration he wondered what they would do. It felt strange to watch everyone in their merriment. Shouting the names of fallen Death Eaters and cheering. Some of them his own family.

As the evening quieted down some wanted to discuss rebuilding. Lupin suggested they all rest for two days before they made any other plans as a group. Offering a list of safehouses, a number of rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, Three Broomsticks, and the Hog's Head for people to stay in. Even the dormitories at Hogwarts.

Hermione tugged Draco over to him once people began to leave.

"Remus, has anyone claimed the Inverness house?" she asked, giving Draco's hand a squeezed. He squeezed back. Like a nonverbal confirmation that he was still there. That he loved her and he would never let go.

"No, I'd left that off of the list." he said. "You were there the longest. Thought you might have a fondness for it. There places in better repair, so I can assign you somewhere else if—"

Hermione interrupted him. "No. No, we want it."

Lupin smiled warmly at the use of we, meeting Draco's eyes and nodding. "I hope you take some time—both of you. Sometimes I forget how young you all were when this began."

After some brief goodbyes they walked through the grounds to the main gates. It was still warm despite the late hour. Insects buzzed and a few owls flew overhead. Once they reached the property line, outside of the protective wards, they apparated to Inverness. It was raining. A warm, summer rain. It always rained in Scotland.

The door opened with Granger's rune. The pub was just as they left it. Bloodstained in places. Gauze and an empty blood replenishing potion vial and a cauldron cast aside on the floor.

"I think we're both tired. We can clean up later," he said, and nudged her upstairs. Past the hospital ward, with its empty beds. Up to the little flat.

With a wave of his wand he moved some of the furniture and expanded the bed. Granger turned to him and pulled his bloodied jumper off of him, inspecting his scars. He slipped her cardigan from her shoulders and unbuttoned her blouse. Tracing a line from her collarbone to her shoulder until he slipped the fabric from her shoulders. Thin — they were both thin. Both so tired. He slipped his arms around her and breathed her in. Every bit of her that he hadn't allowed himself to have before.

"Sleep?" He asked, and felt her nod. When she pulled away he unlaced his boots and tossed them onto the rug in the sitting area, then his socks and trousers. She stood beside the bed in her undergarments. One hand on the blanket. Waiting for him.

The mattress dipped when he slid beneath the covers. They lay facing each other and he tucked a few curls behind her ear before he kissed her, using his foot to trap her leg between his. Tugging her body against his, so that they touched nearly everywhere.

"Goodnight, Granger," he murmured against her forehead.

"Sweet dreams," she replied.

Even though he hadn't had a pleasant dream in years he smiled, lips brushing her skin. And even though he hadn't slept well in months — perhaps years, even — he felt the exhaustion flow through him. Felt the magic settle beneath his skin, warmed by the witch breathing evenly against his chest. And for the first time, he fell asleep in the bed at the flat in Inverness.

The sun was high when he woke, curled around Hermione with the blankets draped over their waists. She made a little noise, and he nuzzled her neck. Kissing the freckles on her shoulder until she turned her head to meet his lips. Bringing her hand up to scratch her nails against his scalp.

When she deepened the kiss he snaked his hand up her stomach and palmed her breast. Her hips pushed her arse back against him. With a small nudge of his knee he pressed her onto her back and kissed her until they were both breathless, her lips never leaving his. Murmurs of love and want and praise and forever between caresses. He slipped his fingers into her knickers and teased her slowly. They had nowhere else to be. He didn't have to leave after an hour. He could take his time.

When her breath came in little pants he knew she was close, so he went slower. Pressing a finger inside her and lazily pumping it before adding another. She traced his cock through his trunks before tugging at the waistband until he removed them and she removed her knickers. Letting them touch each other without barriers. Letting them kiss without rushing. Feeling her cunt contract against his fingers when she came.

He slid into her slowly, rocking their bodies together. Her heel against his thigh and her hands around his shoulders, holding him to her. Draco reached for one of her hands, lacing their fingers and holding it above them. Then repeated the action with their other hands, stilling his thrusts as he stretched along her body, memorizing the way it felt to have her beneath him. With one hand holding both of hers he leaned on his elbow, changing the angle to hit deeper.

Sunlight drifted across the floor and over the tangled blankets. Bringing a glow to their skin and highlighting all of their scars. Granger cried out when he increased the pace, lifting her hips to meet him. With a hand on her hip her rolled onto his back. Her curls tickling his jaw when she kissed him. Their movements were languid but purposeful, and he knew her body. Knew the places to touch and caress and kiss.

She was beautiful in the sunlight. They'd only ever done this in the dark. In stolen moments in the middle of the night. Over far too quickly. But now they savored it. They kissed through their pleasure and stayed locked together after he spilled inside of her. She didn't need to run to other patients and he didn't have to leave her, taking one last look in case it really was the last time. They could just be together. Laying together. Loving together.

There was a small bathing room he'd never been in. A shower that sputtered and made her laugh. He learned the special way she washed her curly hair. That it was her products that smelled of mint and sweetness — the smell he could recall from memory when he was tucked away in abandoned homes, trying to get a few hours rest. She liked the water nearly scalding but the faucet couldn't get that hot. They'd need to fix it. They could make it better.

She kept one of his jumpers that he'd forgotten in the flat and wore it when she was alone. He confessed he almost took her little dragon's egg on his birthday, the night she told him it was a portkey back to him. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't let her go.

They went to a Muggle shop for tea and biscuits and a few other things. Draco made her breakfast because he learned how, from Charlie. The wizard was patient when he burnt three slices of bread and broke the yolks of at least that many eggs. But now Draco could make a simple fry up and Hermione smiled at him across the table.

He broke a mug when he lifted her onto it. Pressing a hand against her chest to keep her in place before moving down to kiss has way between her thighs. Parting her folds and humming around her clit until she squeezed her legs shut, muffling his ears, and he kept going until she came again, breathing his name over and over.

All the little sighs and sounds he never paid close enough attention to in the moment before. He heard them and cherished him in the long days and nights without her, but he missed the way her voice pitched lower when he flattened his tongue and the way it climber higher when he crooked his fingers. The feeling of her breath, puffed against his temple while he laved at her throat. The whimpering and moaning that made his cock hard and his heart squeeze.

They spent half the day making love on multiple surfaces. Teasing each other and tasting each other. Holding each other and toughing each other. Lit by the sun instead of the moon. It was like being in a new world.

It took the rest of the day to clear out the hospital ward. Shrinking and packing all the beds and privacy curtains. They'd bring them to headquarters eventually.

"We could turn the top two floors into a bigger flat," Hermione suggested. "Maybe make this the kitchen and a living area and upstairs—"

"Just for us?"

She nodded. "Just for us."

They talked about the bar below and what they could do. Neither of them had a desire to keep it as a pub, whether it was one that they used or not. They still had to clean the stains of war from its floors.

Granger sealed the second box of hospital supplies. "What about a bookshop?"

"If we did that, I'd never get you upstairs again."

"Yes but we could always use the shelves as leverage," she said, and he tugged her into the supply closet to snog her rotten.

The sun set late, after they'd eaten their first dinner together. At a Muggle pub around the corner. Salty chips and fried fish. Mugs of dark beer that filled them. Granger cast a muffliato charm so that they could speak freely. The next day they would return to the Great Hall to discuss the future with the rest of the Order. They both agreed that they wanted to help others but that they'd take time for themselves first. After years of putting the world first, they wanted to be just a bit selfish. Enough that they could make a home together. They would brew potions and forage, sending supplies to St. Mungo's and Hogwarts.

It was nearing midnight when they finally climbed into bed. The world grew quiet that late. It was easier to talk about the things he didn't want to but needed to.

"My father died," he said, his arm over her shoulders. They were sitting against the headboard, sipping cups of tea.

"I'm so sorry—"

"Don't. He wasn't a good man—"

"He was still your father," she said, turning to face him. One of her hands curled at his nape, stroking his hair. It touched his collar. He hadn't had a haircut in months.

"When I was younger I thought it would be the end of the world to lose him. Now I don't know how to feel about it. What if I've already grieved him, years ago, when my mother…when she died."

"You don't have to feel a certain way. There isn't a blueprint for grieving."

"I'll have to take over the familial responsibilities. As the heir."

"What does that mean? The properties and vaults?"

He nodded. "I don't feel like the heir." The signet ring on his finger felt cold. The metal unfamiliar even though he'd worn it since his tenth birthday. "An heir is someone who wants to continue traditions, not one who betrayed his parents."

"Draco," she took his teacup and placed it beside hers. "Your mother loved you until the end. And I'm sure your father—"

"I don't want it." He thumbed at the bedsheet. The frayed threads. It felt better than the silk sheets he'd had growing up. Warmer, because she was beside him. "The name, the manor, the money… Any of it," he said. "I don't want it."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes seeing through to the thread that tied them. "It's okay if you do."

"All the good memories are from so long ago. Not much left to want."

"You can take the good with you and leave all the rest," she said, nudging herself closer and wrapping her arms around him. He tucked her beneath his chin and stared at the quilt. It was sewn together in haphazard lines, but some were neater than others. And together it made something whole.

He thought about all the parts he'd left behind. All the new things he'd gathered and mended together. Forming a tapestry of something unexpected. Something his parents never would have imagined for him. But he liked his jagged stitches and mismatched bits of fabric. They'd started to make him whole. She'd held the thimble and given him needle and thread. Together they'd made something from everything they had to give.

And now they could finally start to have the time together they never thought they could.

"How about a story, Granger?" He whispered. Stroking her arm and letting the smell of her hair fill his nose.

She chuckled. "Happy or sad?"

"How about a bit of both." Like ours, he thought, pulling her close for a slow kiss. Savoring all the ways he could have her. In the sun and under the moon. In their safehouse and anywhere they liked. Forever.

They slept through the night in each other's arms. They never let go.