Here's the epilogue!
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Christmas 2010
One year later
Their second annual Christmas dinner at the Potters wasn't bad at all. Ginevra, Draco hated to admit, was a more than serviceable cook. He forked another helping of roast beef onto his plate before reaching for the gravy boat.
Hermione sat to his left, but Luna was on her other side and the two women chatted in low tones the whole meal through. Their conversation mostly revolved around the good the proceeds from the sale of Malfoy Manor did for St. Mungo's, but soon turned to Hermione's new foundation dedicated to cleaning up the city and promoting philanthropy. Although it was still in its infancy, with Pansy's firm and Luna's paper behind the foundation, they'd already completed several projects and continued to gain positive sentiment across the country. Meanwhile, Draco was forced to listen to Longbottom blather about his husband's third Order of Merlin. Apparently the Weasel refused to quit playing hero.
Potter spouted some sentimental drivel disguised as a toast. Something about how happy he was that there were more faces around the table every year. He'd been even more insufferably friendly in the lead up to the election. His smile was plastered on every bench in Wizarding London. Even Draco's new home with Hermione, a palatial chateau outside the city, sported a giant Potter for Minister! sign in crimson and gold.
Salazar. The Chosen One had better win.
Draco tugged his wife closer to him as she fiddled with the gigantic diamond ring on her left ring finger. His mother — or rather, his mother's ghost, now at rest — had insisted Hermione needed a ring from the vaults. And since Hermione recently indicated she was keen to start a family, and Malfoy men were infertile until they wore family rings, he gave into his mother's wishes and selected the most ostentatious rings for them both. Hermione rolled her eyes and made some pithy comment about men marking their territory, but even she had to admit the sparkler suited her.
He loved her more with each breath he drew.
As for what he was wearing, well, that was another story.
"It's an abomination," he sniffed, nose high in the air as they extracted themselves from the dinner table.
"She made it with love!"
"There's a thin line between love and hate. She's crossed the line and you know it."
"It's the same deal as last year, Draco. You only have to wear it until we take the photo," Hermione said, patting his chest. "Just don't stand too close to any open flames."
Draco tugged at the sleeves of the hideous jumper with a grimace. Mrs. Weasley gifted it to him that morning, beaming as he donned the neon orange monstrosity. He was tempted to bump (accidentally, of course) into one of Ginevra's pine-scented candles.
The things one does when one loves a Gryffindor.
Slytherins, and by extension, most Purebloods, didn't exchange Christmas presents outside their immediate families. It was considered gauche to assume your friends were in need of anything at all. A bottle of wine with an esteemed vintage was acceptable if passed off as a gift for the host.
He could use a drink, preferably a crisp Riesling in the unlikely event the Potters owned stemmed glasses. Otherwise brandy would serve; its primary virtue being that it was consumable out of any clean receptacle.
After a great deal of screeching from one of the Potter boys, they all lined up in front of the fireplace. The Potters and their children, Weasley and Longbottom, Pansy and Luna, and he and Hermione, all clad in ugly, highly flammable jumpers.
I suppose we're family . He smiled to himself. The camera shutter clicked.
"Got one of Draco grinning like a fool," Pansy crowed as she looked through the images. Draco yanked the jumper off, balled it up and threw it at her. She yelped and Hermione laughed, whisking the offending article into her bag. He'd repaired the bag himself as his gift to her, adding scores of translucent beads charmed to change colour to match her outfits. She'd given him a new wand holster, complete with phials of dittany and other useful potions, just in case.
He'd never stop worrying about her, and she about him. They'd almost lost each other.
More guests arrived after dinner — Theo, Auror Bones, Adrian Pucey, Alicia Spinnet and her husband Lee Jordan, among others. Padma Patil stopped by and the group persuaded her to stay. Luna and Weasley crouched on the floor and built a tower out of multicolour blocks with the Potter boys. Longbottom insisted his sister-in-law take a break and commandeered the kitchen, spice jars whizzing off shelves and emptying various amounts of themselves into a large copper pot.
Hermione and Theo stood in the foyer. The solicitor had been devastated last year after the truth about Blaise Zabini came to light; not because he was close friends with the Healer, but because he'd been the one to refer him to Hermione. Everyone, including Weasley, assured Theo he couldn't have known. Blaise's famed eidetic memory meant there were precious few records of his evildoing. Still, it had taken a while for Theo to rejoin their close-knit circle.
Draco swirled his drink, keeping a respectful distance so they could chat privately. Theo donned his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck as he spoke, a bitter smile on his face. Hermione, eyes glistening, reached for his hands and stroked the backs of them.
She didn't need to worry. Theo had already told Draco his plan. Draco didn't love it, but Theo had supported him through much worse (and far more illegal) endeavours. And it wasn't like Theo was going anywhere. The best thing they could do for him was keep acting like everything was business as usual.
They could keep this secret, just the three of them.
00000
Hermione followed Theo and her husband out to the Potters' backyard. Harry and Ron, having received new brooms that morning, were eagerly racing around the homemade Quidditch pitch with Ginny and Alicia Spinnet. Padma watched from the sidelines.
Ron spotted their approach and called out to Draco. "Hey mate, sub in for me? Need a word with Hermione about tomorrow."
He flew down, dismounted, and handed him the broom. Draco grinned as he swung a leg over the handle. "Let's see what this baby can do." He shot into the sky with a whoop, and Hermione shook her head with a smile.
Padma laughed as she joined Theo, Ron, and Hermione. "Some things never change."
"Once a speed demon, always a speed demon," Hermione agreed.
Ron wiped his brow, his face sombre. "So, tomorrow."
Theo pretended to cover his ears. "Legally speaking, I don't know anything about this."
They went over their plan, over a year in the making now. Padma checked Hermione's vitals with a few swishes of her wand and looked at the remnants of Hermione's Dark Mark. The brand had faded after a year in which Hermione had practised no dark magic whatsoever. With her parents safe and alive with Healer Seamus Finnegan in the green hills of Ireland, she'd no need to dabble in anything beyond simple, everyday magic.
The memory loss couldn't be reversed, but Healer Finnegan remedied the dark magic buildup and cell damage from Blaise's experimental treatments. The tea masked the potential cure, and if not for that, Padma would've caught it during her consultation with Draco and Hermione. When Hermione heard her parents would be around for far longer than just one more Christmas, she launched herself into Padma's arms and wept.
Best of all, a recent advancement led to the restoration of Judy and Hugh's original personalities. They had dementia, but most days they recognised Hermione and Draco, and they had no recollection of the difficult years they'd spent between their Obliviation and their recovery. Assisted living suited them just fine, Hugh taking up golf (and usually talking Draco into a round on the weekends) and kicking his drinking habit for good. Judy enjoyed being read to, and Hermione created a reusable Portkey so she could read to her mother at least two times a week.
Draco treated them as if they were his parents, calling them Mum and Dad just like Hermione. And days before Christmas, he took them all on a day trip to London to see Guildhall Library all decked out for the holiday season. Judy poured through early architectural designs on microfilm, and Hugh became entranced with the collection of antique clocks. They ended the excursion with an early dinner at an Italian restaurant. Draco reserved the entire dining room for the evening, knowing Hugh and Judy didn't do well with noisy environments filled with strangers. It was perhaps the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for Hermione, and she'd treasure the memories of that day for the rest of her life.
Tomorrow, Hermione would call on her dark magic for the last time. Their plan, the result of a year of lobbying Aurors sympathetic to their cause and timed to deliver a blow to Minister Podmore's reelection campaign right before the election, was not without significant risk. But all the friends agreed: If they pulled this off, it would be the biggest win for Wizarding Britain since the war.
"I know it's morbid, and we don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to, Ron, but have there been any updates since Blaise died?"
Blaise Zabini received the finest medical care possible, unlike his many patients. Ron had hoped Padma and her team would keep him alive for an inevitable trial. But after months of delays, he succumbed to his injuries just six weeks ago.
Ron sighed. "He never said a word to us, and he didn't leave much behind. But Adrian combed through Ministry records and identified some possible patients that way. We spoke to their families and got their permission to exhume the bodies for examination."
Padma cut in. "Autopsies confirmed toxic levels of dark magic, poisoning, premortem tissue death, and multiple missing and unaccounted for organs. Hearts and livers, mostly."
"Good gods," Hermione whispered.
"The good news is Griselda Marchbanks is recovering and fully cooperating with the investigation. We're still seeking the Kiss for Gregory Goyle, and although I'm sympathetic to Daphne Greengrass's plight, I'm not dropping all her charges. But most importantly, Blaise Zabini will never hurt anyone again. You did that, Hermione."
"I can't believe I didn't see through him earlier."
"You had a lot on your mind. It's not like any of us suspected what he was up to, either, and Healers all run in the same circles," Padma said, squeezing Hermione's shoulder gently. "Don't be so hard on yourself."
Hermione released a long breath. "After tomorrow, can our next big project be getting this Mark off my arm? And Draco's, too?"
This isn't me. This isn't him. Not now, and not then.
"Of course. We owe you, and after tomorrow, so will the world."
"Again," Ron added.
Theo offered each of them tight hugs. "Sorry, I'm a hugger," he said when Ron finally clapped him on the back. "This has been lovely, but I've got to go. Meeting with a client."
Ron pulled a face. "On Christmas?"
"I know, I know. Hermione, are we still on for New Year's?"
"Yes, yes," she said, knowing full well who Theo was off to see. "You're all invited, of course."
As Theo Apparated away, Draco, slightly sweaty, came up from behind and draped his arms around his wife's neck. "I'm knackered. The Potters kicked my arse. Ready to go home, Granger?"
She nodded. "Let's say goodbye to our godsons first."
He placed a kiss on her temple and offered her his arm. She accepted, and they began walking back towards the house. Draco smirked as he heard Padma ask Ron, "Why does he still call her Granger?"
Ron's voice carried through the cold air. "Who knows? Nothing with those two makes any bloody sense. You want another drink? Nev's making his mulled cider."
00000
Fine mist settled on Theo's head and shoulders as he entered the frigid halls of Azkaban. An elderly wizard with a long white beard, his mouth set in a grim line, checked Theo's wand and opened the north cellblock for him. Theo tried not to look at any of the prisoners he passed on his way to see his client.
Not for the first time, he questioned just what he was playing at by coming here. Theo typically met with his clients in his office. On rare occasions, such as when one party was out of the country, he corresponded with his clients by owl, and he charged double for weekend meetings.
But no one had come forward to represent this particular prisoner. She was destitute, without a Knut to her name, and had no living family. They all laid in a graveyard outside her former home, now claimed as evidence by the Ministry.
Even her former intended husband had nothing to say on her behalf. In fact, no one had heard from Gregory Goyle at all, because he'd somehow escaped the confines of the famous magical prison, likely with the help of a sympathetic guard.
Theo approached the last cell on the left and whispered so as not to startle her. "Happy Christmas, Miss Greengrass."
"Happy Christmas, Theo." The thin blonde woman, now even thinner, rose from a too-short cot and looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm glad to see you, of course, but what are you doing here?"
"Something's happening tomorrow," he said, keeping his voice nearly inaudible. "I'm here to prepare you."
She came closer, standing half in shadow, half in light. "What do you mean?"
"Tomorrow morning, Hermione's going to use her power and summon all the Death Eaters to an undisclosed location. Aurors will be waiting to arrest all of them with warrants, and the ones that aren't under arrest will be identified and questioned. We'll warn them that they're under suspicion."
Daphne touched her arm where he knew the Dark Mark lay underneath the scratchy prison jumpsuit. "Will I be able to answer her call?"
"Normally you wouldn't. Azkaban is home to the most advanced anti-Apparition wards in existence. But Hermione, she's really good with wards. She told me how to disable the one keeping you in your cell."
"I'm glad. It hurts when you don't answer a summons," Daphne said with a shiver.
"So I've heard. It won't be pleasant when your neighbours here can't Apparate to her. But listen," Theo licked his lips. "When you land, it'll be in a field, okay? Look for me in the northeast corner. I'll help you get out. You're not coming back here."
"You can't be serious."
"I am."
"I'm not worth it. I'm a Death Eater, Marked for life. No one cares that I don't agree with any of it." She'd told Theo her whole story. Her father's ambitions, her mother's inattentiveness, her sister's inexplicable lack of magical ability (of course she now knew Astoria was born a Squib). Gregory Goyle had been kind to her at Hogwarts, had lured her in with sweet words and promises of a better future under Voldemort.
When the war ended, she clung to Greg like a barnacle to a ship, unaware of the dangerous waters he steered them into in the name of clawing back a little power and influence. Then Astoria died, and Daphne could barely get out of bed in the morning. Her parents fled the country as the Ministry closed in on Pureblood money and property, and although she didn't know it at the time, the only reason she still had a roof over her head was thanks to Greg's working relationship with Blaise.
At some point the bloody bastard started dosing her with the tea. He put a ring on her finger and gave her hope for some kind of future. Daphne wanted to start over somewhere new and have a family, but then Lucius died and Greg's behaviour turned manic and violent. She'd known something was wrong, but she couldn't leave.
"I care," Theo said softly. He caught himself before he revealed more. "As your solicitor, I care. The Wizengamot is wrong to delay your trial just because they're worried about the upcoming elections."
"Do you think Harry has a chance?"
"More than a chance. I think Podmore knows his days are numbered. That's why you're here instead of on house arrest somewhere. He thinks if he makes an example of his love child's sister, everyone will think he's unbiased. But everyone will be on your side when they hear about your bravery in open court. The way you saved Draco's life by kicking him the Felix Felicis, not to mention the fact that you gave his wand to Hermione… The Minister can't risk that coming out before we go to the polls."
"Where will I go after you get me out?"
"Draco gave me a place. Unplottable, in the Cotswolds. You'll be safe there."
Daphne grasped his fingers through the bars. "I don't know what I did to deserve your kindness, Theo. Will you visit me, like you do now?"
Theo knew he shouldn't, but he considered her request anyway. If he went back and forth to Cyclamen Cottage and was somehow caught, it would put his entire career at risk; everything he built, everything he wanted to change with Draco and Hermione.
He pulled his hands away. "I can't."
"I understand," she said, voice shaking. "But you'll write?"
Gods, he wanted to give her something, but it was impossible. His owls could be compromised or, worse, recognised. A Patronus wasn't private, and he didn't know if Daphne could cast one, even if he somehow got her wand back. Two-way parchment wouldn't work if she was in danger and caught without a quill.
"How's this: We'll have a secret code. I'll put a taboo on it, and if you have need of me, only say it, and I will come to you."
Daphne bit her chapped lips. Her slender fingers curled around the rusty iron bars. "It has to be something people rarely say. Maybe a whole phrase?"
"Good thinking." He racked his brain for something odd, but before he could answer, Daphne leaned closer and whispered to him.
"And it has to be simple, so we don't forget it. What about 'I need you, Theodore Nott.'"
Theo looked down at his feet to hide his smile. He chided himself for struggling to remain professional. But every time he visited, it became harder to ignore the way his heart beat double-time to the sound of her voice.
Why was he risking it all? Why now, when the tide might finally turn in his favour?
He'd left Daphne hanging. He held his breath and met her gaze. Her deep blue eyes regarded him warily; hopefully.
It was impossible to back out now.
Fucking hell.
"That works for me, Daphne Greengrass."
00000
In a large clearing in the snowy woods many kilometres from London, Operation Zugzwang was about to commence. The icy wind whipped a curl loose from Hermione's bun as she turned to face Draco. "Is everyone ready?"
She pushed up the sleeves of Draco's bright orange jumper. Draco insisted she wear something highly visible, just in case something happened. She understood his worries after everything they'd been through, and so even though they'd rehearsed the plan a thousand times and prepared contingencies for every potential mishap or unexpected threat, Hermione wore the blasted jumper.
But after this, she planned on burning it; Molly Weasley's efforts be damned.
Draco tucked the wayward curl behind her ear and cast a sticking charm. Heat rose in her cheeks at how intimately he knew every part of her now. "Want me to give the signal?"
"Please."
Draco looked around the clearing and sent three spurts of green sparks into the air. Ron and a score of Aurors poked their heads out of the treeline and responded in kind. Padma, on standby in case of injury, returned the sparks as well. Theo stood with her, having insisted on helping his friends with the unauthorised mission.
"Good to go," Draco confirmed.
"Thank the gods this is the last time." Hermione unwittingly smoothed a hand over her stomach as Draco nodded. His brows knit together briefly, and she stiffened as he registered what the subtle movement meant.
Oh no. She wanted to tell him later when they were alone. Not now, right before she was about to do something dangerous, however necessary.
"Hermione, wait,"
Hermione cut him off as she raised her wand arm to the sky. "Morsmordre," she shouted with gritted teeth. She pressed her palm into the centre of her Mark, hesitating for only a moment as she prepared to visit the place between worlds for the last time.
She woke not covered in dirt like last time, but at the top of the hill looking down on the sea of graves. Snow fell in a fine frenzy, and revulsion crawled across Hermione's skin one last time as she took in the sight below. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the snake, her faux-familiar, slithering to each occupied grave. The Death Eaters rose one by one in their hoods and masks, their necks snapping towards her in obedient silence. When all were facing her, she shouted her command, compelling every Marked Death Eater — the ones Voldemort Marked along with the ones Marked by her over a year ago — to gather in the clearing.
The first Apparated directly in front of Ron, and he apprehended the man with a quickness. Suddenly Death Eaters winked into existence at every corner, and Aurors rushed forward, hexes and jinxes flying through the air. The element of surprise gave them far more of an advantage than they'd hoped, and Death Eaters fell to the ground left and right.
Draco fired off an Incarcerous and whirled on her. "Our job here is done."
"Not yet," Hermione protested. "We're supposed to look for Goyle!"
"Fuck that," he growled, pulling her into his chest and sheltering her in his greatcoat. "You're carrying our baby. Nothing in this world will ever matter more."
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Theo help a woman in a striped Azkaban jumpsuit through the anti-Apparition wards. He had Daphne. She had no doubt Ron would apprehend Goyle, but she'd hoped to confirm his capture, too. But she also had the sense to know Draco was right.
Hermione tilted her head up to her husband and kissed him as a curse missed his shoulder. "Take me home, Draco."
He touched the dragon charm hanging from a silver chain around his neck and the reusable Portkey matched to their home activated immediately. They spun into the sky, trusting their capable friends to finish the operation.
00000
Draco and Hermione landed gently on the high-pile rug in their cosy living room. Unlike the old flat, it combined their personal tastes. The only things that they took with them to the new place were the photo of Narcissa Malfoy and their personal effects. Mrs. Tannenbaum, ready for retirement, relocated to sunny Spain.
Hermione took off the orange jumper and her denims, trading them for her silky H.M. pyjamas, and flopped down on their sofa with a sigh. Draco hung up his greatcoat and paced in front of her, his hands grabbing at his hair.
"How long have you known?"
The hurt in his voice made her choke up. "I suspected last night at Christmas dinner, and Luna confirmed it for me. She has The Sight, you know. But Draco, she told me everything would be okay today and our mission would be successful. I've learned from my mistakes. I would never put us in danger. Any of us."
He released a deep breath and her heart swelled at the tears in his eyes. "I know you'd never endanger us. But I wish you'd told me yesterday. This news would have been the best Christmas present ever."
Hermione leapt to her feet, hugged him, and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. "Consider it the best late Christmas present ever? I wanted to tell you. You know we don't keep anything from each other anymore. But Luna said I could wait. Although, perhaps this is payback for when I almost walked in on her and Pansy sharing an intimate moment in the sauna."
"What?"
"Never mind that. The point is, everything is fine. I feel fine, and the dark magic won't hurt the baby." Hermione didn't mention the fact that she'd cornered Padma in the loo at the party and asked numerous questions regarding magical pregnancies, including if dark magic was transferable in utero. Padma assured her it was not, and thankfully did not ask Hermione any questions in return.
Draco dipped under her top and put his palm against her belly, gently stroking it with his thumb. "Did she tell you the sex?"
"No, I want to find out together."
His hand stilled. "Can we find out now?"
"Now?"
"Please. I don't want to wait another second. And seeing as it's Boxing Day, and you didn't get me anything..." He shot her a boyish grin that launched a thousand butterflies in her stomach.
Hermione took hold of his collar and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I didn't think you observed."
"Now, Granger," he said in a dangerously low tone. "You know I love to celebrate with you. Some might say I'm religious about it. I get on my knees and everything."
She kissed him, filing away the image of him worshipping her for later. "Hoping for a boy or a girl?"
He rested his forehead on hers. "Just healthy and here with us already."
She smiled and kissed him again, more slowly this time, safe and sound in their country home, where in eight months' time they'd welcome a new Malfoy. It seemed too good to be true, but she knew she wasn't imagining things. Those dark days were long gone now.
Draco ended the kiss and left one final peck on the top of her head. He navigated them back over to the sofa and they sat facing each other.
"Ready?" Hermione's hand trembled as she waved her new wand — cypress wood, ten inches, with a dragon heartstring core — over her stomach and recited the incantation.
The instant the words left her mouth, two tiny flickering pink orbs danced over her abdomen.
She looked up at Draco, whose eyes were wide in awe.
"Twins," he whispered. "Two girls, Granger. Our girls."
"Our girls," she repeated, lacing both his hands in hers. He squeezed gently, and she squeezed back, her own tears falling soft like spring rain.
As the twilight crept in through the curtains, they watched their future daughters orbit each other. The parents-to-be, like anyone who experiences that singular shock of pure love and wonder, could not bear to look away.
The End