Authors Notes: So this is the epilogue and the final part of the story. It's from Isabelle's POV and I hope it provides the closure the story needs! If you're interested in reading more of my Draco stories then I have Frozen and Seduction, both of which are complete. I'm also going to start posting a new story called Who You Are.

Delilah94: Thank you so much for your kind words, they really mean a lot :) As for Seeing Differently, I have actually written an ending to it, so as soon as I've written the middle part I will actually update it!

I'd just like to finish my notes by saying thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far or who might review in the future. Every review means so much to me! Thank you as well to everyone who has favourite or followed the story, or just simply read along and enjoyed it.

I hope you all enjoy the ending :)

Epilogue

Isabelle sighed as she scanned the article in the Daily Prophet, wondering why they let them print shit like this. Still, she supposed that was the point really – that people were free to print what they liked, and that included printing shit like this.

She turned her attention to the list of names at the bottom and scanned it thoughtfully. The article was bemoaning the lack of true pure-blood families still left and Isabelle supposed they had a point. The list was a lot shorter than the Sacred 28 that her dad had made her learn when she was younger.

The Weasleys were still there she noticed, thanks she supposed to Bill's marriage to Fleur because apparently part-veela was much more acceptable in pure-blood terms than part-Muggle. There was her maiden name as well, the Fawleys still had pureblood heirs thanks to her male cousins, who had respectively married an Abbott and a Greengrass and kept the purity of the line going. Of course, her new surname was conspicuous by its absence. Though his family name continued in their children, her husband was the last pure-blood in that particular line.

She refolded the paper and tossed it to one side, glancing at the family photograph sat on the mantelpiece. There was another pure-blood tradition they'd decided to ignore. What was the point in stopping at one healthy heir to carry on the family name? They'd filled their house and their lives with children, and given the amount of sex they had it was amazing that only the third one of the five had been an accident. A very much loved accident, but an accident nonetheless.

Isabelle smiled at the waving figures in the photograph and sat down on the sofa to wait. The eldest two were at Hogwarts already and Kiera and her husband had been more than willing to take the other three off their hands for the night.

Today was her husband's birthday. It was her birthday as well actually, something which had rather pleased Isabelle when she'd found out because it at least meant that he could never forget it. She grinned to herself in the flickering firelight of the drawing room as she thought about this. Sometimes things like that happened outside stories.

There was something she always did on his birthday; something that she knew would bring him home at a reasonable time tonight from his job at the Firebolt Manufacturers. It was coming up to the Quidditch World Cup and they were all working overtime to make sure the new Supremes were ready in time, but tonight, she knew, he would not be late. It was a tradition they had started a long time ago, back when they were still at Hogwarts.

Isabelle smoothed down her knee length, sapphire blue dress, feeling the lace of her underwear underneath. She'd once told him she'd wear nice underwear again for him on his birthday, and though she hadn't kept her promise that year she'd kept it every year since. She did it at other times too, because otherwise it would have been boring, but their shared birthday was the one time he always knew it was going to happen.

She smiled to herself and let her eyes drop closed as she remembered the time she and Draco had shared at Hogwarts, Things had not been easy after the battle, in fact Isabelle had gone home with her father and spent a torturous month imagining what terrible fate might befall Draco. Azkaban, Dementors, the Kiss. She knew the last was unlikely, but the fear of it kept her awake at night anyway.

Then she had attended his trial without letting her father know. She had sat in the viewing box and watched as he had been led in, pale and gaunt, but still holding himself erect, with his eyes looking straight ahead. He was still the Malfoy heir and he was still not going to show weakness in this moment, though Isabelle, with her intimate knowledge of him, could see the glazed look in his eyes that suggested he was keeping this act up only by pretending he was somewhere other than here.

She'd felt inexplicably proud of him in that moment, just because he was Draco.

The charges had been read. A damning series of accusations which had Draco gripping the sides of his chair so hard that his knuckles were turning white, though he didn't let his head drop once. He gazed sightlessly at the walls of the chamber, whilst behind him Isabelle felt herself falling apart. She had always known that she was sleeping with the enemy, with someone who was essentially not good, but he had never been so to her. This was a stark reminder of what he really had been.

Then to everyone's surprise Harry Potter had taken to the stand and defended his old schoolboy nemesis and it was only then that Draco let his head drop, as if the idea that he deserved this defence was too much for him to take. Or perhaps it was just that he didn't like being indebted to someone he felt such animosity towards. Isabelle didn't know, but when she had heard the real story of what he had endured over the Easter holidays she had felt vaguely ashamed for crying about her sister, who had ultimately been merely forced to take a holiday somewhere sunny for a few weeks.

After the trial, when the decision was taken to acquit him and he was told he would be released Draco had finally looked around the courtroom as he had risen from his chair. He had met her eyes for one brief moment and for the first time he had looked truly and genuinely stricken. A look that was quickly hidden behind a defiant glare.

He didn't want her there. Isabelle had left the courtroom and returned home and spent the summer trying to work out exactly how she felt about Draco, about his life, and about her own life.

She had been no closer to an answer when she had received the surprising news that since she was returning to Hogwarts she would be continuing her Head Girl duties next year. She had expected to be replaced by Hermione Granger, but though the witch was also returning, it seemed that Professor McGonagall had decided to let Isabelle retain her title. Draco of course was no longer Head Boy. The letter had told her that honour had gone, not to Harry Potter as she had also expected, but to Neville Longbottom. Isabelle was pleased and so was her father, who had spent the rest of the holiday dropping hints about how eligible Neville was and what a hero he had turned out to be.

Isabelle had never wanted to marry a hero.

She had returned to Hogwarts in September, to the familiarity of the rooms, which were comforting, but filled with memories of Draco that she really didn't want replaced by Neville. Not that he wasn't easy to live with and easy to get along with. They had fallen into an uncomplicated friendship and much to Isabelle's relief he had started dating Hannah Abbott, though it didn't stop the jealous looks that Draco pinned them with whenever he saw them together.

She still hadn't spoken to him. She didn't know what to say.

He hadn't spoken to her either, though Isabelle caught him staring at her fairly often, with a longing look that suggested he wanted to but that he didn't know what to say either. The situation continued for a month until she was summoned to Professor McGonagall's office and told that her father had been attacked. He had got involved in an altercation between some who still espoused Voldemort's views and some muggle born wizards. Insults and curses had been hurled and when her father had stepped in he'd been hit with a vicious hex that he had barely survived. He was in St Mungo's.

Isabelle had received the news calmly, because she had been numb with shock and only after she'd been sent to her room to pack some clothes had she collapsed on the floor in their living area and sobbed.

Neville had found her and tried to comfort her, tried to ask what was wrong, but her mind was blank and her mouth could form no words and she was sobbing so hard she could hardly breathe. In the end something inside her had snapped and she'd clutched at Neville's robes and babbled, "Get Draco, get him now. Please, get Draco," until with eyes filled with fear Neville had found himself with no choice but to obey her request and a few minutes later Draco had been there, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close and soothing her in the way that only Draco could.

He'd helped her pack, held her in his arms, sworn Neville to secrecy and taken her to Professor McGonagall's office, with the promise that when she came back if she wanted him he would be there.

Of course she had wanted him and when three days later her father was on the road to recovery and she'd returned to school, mostly at his insistence, Draco had knocked tentatively on their door and she'd pulled him into her bedroom and they'd lost themselves in each other for more hours than either of them could count.

Neville to his credit had kept their secret faithfully. Years later Isabelle had asked him why and he'd told her that it was because, when he'd accosted a third year Slytherin, ordered them to summon Malfoy from the Slytherin Common Room and been faced with Draco, sneering slightly at him and regarding him with intense dislike he nearly hadn't told him, because he'd wondered what good it would do.

But then he'd remembered her face and he'd blurted out,

"Isabelle asked me to get you, something's wrong with her."

And the expression on Draco's face as he'd processed the words and the way he had simply turned and run to her rooms without needing any further explanation had made Neville realise that Draco wasn't completely incapable of love.

Love.

It was something that neither of them had mentioned for many months. Isabelle had known how she felt, but she knew Draco didn't know how he felt. He spent most of his time in her bed, or curled up with her on the couch, or doing his homework at her desk, or just hanging around their rooms, talking and reading and generally making a nuisance of himself, but she knew he hadn't admitted to himself that he was in love with her. She was still a half-blood. In his head he was still supposed to marry a nice, suitable, pure-blood girl.

It had made things difficult because despite everything Draco was one of the few handsome pure-blood heirs around and there were many pure-blood girls who were more than willing to overlook his family's shattered reputation for the chance to marry someone like him. The most persistent of his pursuers had been Astoria Greengrass.

What had annoyed Isabelle the most about her was that she practically followed him around like an adoring puppy, flirting and smiling and touching his arm and laughing far too loudly when he said something even half amusing. And Draco, being Draco, had almost encouraged it and had actually flirted back with her sometimes, until one day, when she'd seen Astoria leaning a bit too close to Draco as they came up from the dungeons she'd seen red. She'd forgotten she was Head Girl, forgotten she had a wand, forgotten that she was supposed to be discrete and had physically flung herself at Astoria, slapping her, pulling her hair and generally behaving like a stupid teenage girl in a stupid girly fight until finally she'd pushed Astoria so hard the girl had fallen down the dungeon steps and had broken her wrist.

Afterwards Isabelle hadn't been sorry.

What she had done though was wail at Professor Flitwick that the girl had been trying to steal her boyfriend, without actually saying who the boyfriend was, and because no one would ever suspect it was Draco she'd got away with it, albeit with a series of detentions, a letter to her father and the very real threat of having her position as Head Girl rescinded.

She had also sworn that she would never speak to Draco again, which had lasted all of three hours until he had come banging on the door of her room demanding to be let in. He'd come to say sorry and she'd let him this time, because whist she would not ask him to apologise for being himself now anymore than she had done after the battle, she did need him to apologise for this which had been nothing more than him being an idiotic prat who couldn't decide whether he loved her or not. His apology had been slightly overwhelming. He'd all but begged for forgiveness and he'd very nearly cried and it had struck Isabelle for the first time exactly how much she meant to him and how much he loved her, even if a part of him was still rebelling against it.

She'd forgiven him, because he was Draco and he was hers.

A few weeks after that she'd told him they needed to let people know they were friends or at least that they were close acquaintances because it suddenly became very important to her that they find out if their relationship actually existed out in the real world.

As eighth years who didn't technically need to be there they had more privileges than the other years so they visited Hogsmeade together several times, but it had been difficult because they were more than friends and it was very difficult to remember to be just friends, until one day Isabelle had pulled Draco down a deserted alleyway in Hogsmeade and apparated them away. Draco had been rather stunned by that, but who was going to catch them?

"I told you Draco, good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught," she'd teased, and taken him to a muggle restaurant for lunch where no one would give a shit who they were. It had been one of several outings, including one just after Christmas where they had wandered hand in hand along the promenade at Blackpool, Draco fascinated by the ostentatious habits of muggles, Isabelle just enjoying the wind whipping through her hair, until they'd stopped and gazed out to sea, and Draco had kissed her and she'd known in that moment that their relationship was something that was built to last.

Years later Draco had admitted to her that this had been the moment when he'd really and truly accepted that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her.

Six months later he'd been the one to apparate them back there, but this time when they'd arrived he'd shot a calculated glance at the top of the tower that dominated the skyline and then apparated them again. They'd landed perfectly on one of the platforms, far higher than the safe, enclosed, muggle viewing platform below, and they been buffeted by the wind and standing on a piece of metal far too small for Isabelle's liking. She'd screamed, grabbed hold of him and yelled at him that she hated him.

He'd grinned and said, "Yes I know you do sweetheart, but you will marry me won't you?"

The words had taken a moment to sink in and then she'd laughed and clutched at him tighter as another gust of wind buffeted them and she'd been sure she was about to fall to her death, but she'd said yes and kissed him, because the whole thing was so very Draco that she really shouldn't have expected anything less.

He'd apparated them away to a beach she didn't recognise, one much nicer than Blackpool and they'd bought ice cream and he'd given her a ring and nuzzled her hair and held her like he never wanted to let go and it had been the happiest day of Isabelle's life.

Of course, she'd had to hide the ring once she was back at school, at least until they'd told their parents. It had been difficult. In the end Isabelle had confided in a very shocked Professor McGonagall, because there were times when you needed a woman rather than your own head of house, however old that woman might be. Her solution had been to write to his parents and her father and instruct them to come to the school for a meeting.

They had entered the Head's Office to find her father and only his mother sitting opposite Professor McGonagall, her own father looking confused, but his mother looking merely calm, though her lips had tightened slightly when Isabelle had entered with Draco.

"I know why I'm here," she'd said, before anyone could say a word, "I think my son knows I am not entirely ignorant of the situation. I merely repeat the words I said to him some time ago. So be it. I insisted his father stay away today. I have done my best to hint at what was coming, but he will still be… disappointed."

The speech had resulted in three surprised faces, though her own father had merely demanded angrily to know what was going on. In response Isabelle found she had no words, so she had simply taken her hands from behind her back and joined hands with Draco whilst extending her other towards her father and showing him the band of delicately entwined white-gold strands, with three tiny sapphires nestled within the twist.

He had fortunately been lost for words long enough for Professor McGonagall to say her piece about how though it was a surprise to everyone that did not necessarily make it a bad thing and that the war had been fought to bring people together and that the fact that Draco wanted to marry her in the first place just showed that he no longer believed in the pure-blood ideals which he had before and several other things besides.

Narcissa's lips had gone even thinner and whiter at the speech, because you couldn't change people in a day, but her father had at least calmed down for long enough to concede that he would accept it for now and that he would speak to her further when she came home for the summer.

Unfortunately his idea of speaking to her had been to try to talk her out of it, and not even the fact that Draco was most definitely a pure-blood could persuade him that their marriage would work. He had been trying to protect her, but Isabelle had been tired of being protected and eventually she had fled to her mother's just to get away and to find the one parent who was going to accept this marriage at face value.

Her muggle mother, with no concept of who Draco was or who his family were had accepted him with open arms, seeing nothing but a handsome young man who clearly adored her daughter, made her very happy, and wanted to marry her. With Draco's father still even less convinced about the whole thing than Isabelle's, Draco had actually spent several weeks staying at her mother's with her, which had been interesting to say the least because Draco was so hopelessly lost even just in a muggle household that Isabelle had actually been worried for a while that he would leave her.

Afterwards he had confessed that though he had found it hard, it had actually been nice to be with a family who worked so differently from his own and who actually seemed to like him for being him. Even Kiera liked him, being too young really to be worried about his family's history and also being able to claim that she'd known all along, because after all she'd heard him call her sweetheart a long time before.

Things had gradually got better. Eventually her father had realised that it was going to happen whether he liked it or not and he had actually consented to meet Draco, and once Draco had met him a few times and once he'd managed to stop acting like the haughty heir to the Malfoy fortune they had – not exactly got along, but at least been flexible enough to see the good side of each other. It had been all Isabelle could ask for at the time. Genuine respect and regard had come years later after several of their children had been born.

To her relief the new truce between the two men in her life had meant that her dad had been the one to walk her down the aisle at her wedding, and though Draco's father had stayed away, and though Isabelle knew that had hurt Draco a little, his mother had been there and she had cried, as mothers tend to do at these things, because she had been genuinely happy her son was marrying someone he loved.

When she had seen Draco's face in that first moment he'd turned to look at her as she appeared in her simple, white wedding dress, Isabelle had known all over again that she had definitely made the right decision. They had joined hands and joined their lives and Isabelle had found a new happiest day of her life.

After the wedding Draco's mother had insisted that his father turn the manor over to Draco and the two had renovated it, making it much more comfortable and welcoming, and then they had filled it with children. Ultimately it had been the children who had brought the family together at last, with Draco's father finally consenting to meet the woman who had borne the heir to the Malfoy name and fortune. Little Scorpius had been only a few weeks old, but he had brought the family back together and Narcissa had sobbed again, and Draco had clutched Isabelle's hand so hard it hurt, and Lucius had held his grandson and been unable to help his smile of pleasure.

Not a pure-blood, but his blood and that had finally been enough.

Isabelle blinked, brought back from her memories by the sudden flaring of the fire and the disembodied voice that announced visitors inter-toning "Draco Malfoy" before the wards on the fire split and allowed him through automatically.

She stood, grinning happily as he stepped from the fireplace and brushed invisible soot from his clothes before he grinned back and swept her into his arms.

"Happy birthday sweetheart," he said, though he'd already said it this morning and she rolled her eyes at him and kissed him thoroughly before he pulled away to look at her. "You are very beautiful," he told her softly, sending a shudder down her spine as he gazed at her intently with those soft, grey eyes, "When do I get to see exactly what you're wearing under this dress?" There was that smirk, the one which she never tired of seeing even now, and he ran his hands down her body until he was able to lift her dress and run his hands up her thighs, feeling the tops of the stockings she was wearing and continuing up to the lacy knickers, running a questing finger over the warmth between her legs before she knocked his hands away with a sound of exasperation.

"Draco Malfoy, hands off," she told him, smirking up at him as he frowned petulantly, "No playing till after dinner."

"But Isabelle," he whined, pulling her closer and pressing his lips to her neck, "I want to play now."

"Brat!" She slapped his shoulder lightly. "Go get changed or we'll be late."

He grumbled under his breath, but did release her, heading off to shower and change, leaving her alone in the drawing room. She sank down into the sofa again shaking her head. Being married to Draco Malfoy was both thrilling and frustrating in equal measure, but she wouldn't change anything about him for the world.

He returned sometime later looking immaculate as always, though Isabelle suspected that the transformation involved a trail of mess for the house-elves to tidy whilst they were out. She'd never quite managed to get him out of that habit, though she very much suspected he did it just to wind her up and give them something to bicker about.

She wasn't going to bicker about it right now though because as always he was gorgeous, a vision of perfection with porcelain pale skin and white blonde hair and too light grey eyes that should have all looked unhealthy but that somehow didn't. She slipped her arms around his waist as she stood up, relishing his lean frame, with just the faintest hint of muscular strength maintained mostly through his flying, that stopped him from being completely skinny. He was perfect and he was smiling at her in a very knowing way.

"What?" she asked suspiciously, pulling away a little to try and work out exactly what was up.

"I'm very glad you wore that dress tonight," he told her thoughtfully and then pulled his right hand from behind his back, handing her a small package done up in silver wrapping with a gold bow. She grinned and plucked it from his hand, undoing the ribbon eagerly and wondering what would be inside.

Not something expensive. They never bought each other anything expensive on their birthdays. They had both grown up with more than enough money to buy whatever they wanted. Draco bought her expensive things all the time, whenever she asked or expressed a wish for something and even when she didn't, and what he didn't buy her she bought for herself. They weren't exactly extravagant and they certainly didn't spoil their children, but neither of them were particularly concerned with how much things cost if it was something they really wanted.

Birthdays were different. Every year on her birthday Draco bought her something special, or novel, or just plain silly. Whatever it was it was always something he'd put a lot of thought into, rather than something that had cost a lot of money.

She peeled back the silver wrapping, doing it neatly and carefully, which earned a roll of the eyes from Draco, who never bothered with such things. Eventually she revealed the plain black box underneath; too big to be jewellery, but then jewellery for her birthday wouldn't have been his style anyway. She held her breath as she flipped open the lid. Inside, nestled on black velvet, was an intricately wrought sapphire and silver butterfly.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, "Oh Draco." She blinked back tears, because she knew why it was a butterfly. At Easter Scorpius had come home talking about how Harry Potter had been in to give a talk to his class and shown them his patronus. Not to be outdone Isabelle had shown her family her patronus. It had been the first time Draco had seen it, and of course, it had been a butterfly.

Draco was watching her, an adoring smile on his face as she reached out to pick up the delicate insect. The moment her fingers touched it though she snatched them away. The butterfly had moved. It twitched again as she watched. Then its wings flicked and it rose from the box, fluttering around her head twice, before settling in her hair. She turned to the mirror over the fireplace and saw it, now still once again, contrasting perfectly with the rich brown of her hair and complimenting the blue of her dress. It was beautiful and perfect and unusual and so ridiculously Draco.

"Oh Draco," she murmured again, reaching back to entwine her fingers with his.

"Do you like it?" he asked, and for once his tone seemed faintly anxious so she turned to him with disbelieving eyes and an enchanting smile that drove it away. "I charmed it myself," he told her rather smugly, instantly back to his usual self.

"Oh Draco." That last bit of information really did cause a lump to form in her throat and she flung herself into his arms and kissed him deeply, trying to put all of her feelings into that one kiss. They pulled away eventually with Draco grinning at her obvious delight and tucking her hair behind her ear in that affectionate way he had.

"Shall we go to dinner?" he asked, still smiling as he pulled away a little more.

"Maybe we should skip dinner." She tried to pull him back towards her, but got a roll of the eyes for her trouble.

"No. I like this restaurant," Draco said holding up one finger to silence her complaints, "And it's my birthday too so I get my own way on this."

"Says the man who was trying to strip me naked the moment he came home from work."

"I decided to wait," he said, pulling her close and placing another kiss on her lips, "I don't get to spend enough time with you. I count the days until Elara goes to Hogwarts."

Elara was their youngest child and it was still four years until she would be going. Isabelle rolled her eyes at his words because she knew he didn't really mean them, at least not all of them. He did complain that he didn't get to spend enough time with her, constantly whinging about it, despite the fact that they very regularly left their children in the capable hands of their friends and relatives and spent a lot of time alone together. Of course, nothing was ever enough for Draco. He also missed their two eldest children who were already away so much that sometimes he drove Isabelle crazy. That was Draco. Wanted everything, even when the two things weren't compatible.

"Brat," she admonished, rolling her eyes again and holding out her hand, "But fine, we'll go for dinner."

They shared a smile and entwined their fingers before Draco apparated them away.

Several hours later they were walking in the front door, having actually got a muggle taxi back to the gates of the house and then walked up the drive because they had drunk too much wine to apparate safely.

Of course they were bickering, because even after all these years they could still find something to bicker about, even on their birthdays.

"It doesn't matter," Isabelle was saying as Draco opened the door, "You still shouldn't have been so rude to him."

"He was rude to me!" Draco pointed out.

"Only after you were rude to him." Isabelle gave a frustrated sigh. "And anyway it wasn't his fault in the first place."

"Isabelle…" Draco had switched to a whine now, and he caught her round the waist, attempting to kiss down her neck.

"Draco!" She pushed him back a little and tried to make her point again. "You can't just go around being rude to muggles all the time."

"It wasn't because he was a muggle," Draco said firmly, "It was because he was an imbecile."

Isabelle at least knew that the first part of the statement was true, though she still pouted.

"That's no excuse. And stop that Draco, I'm cross with you!" He had been trying to kiss her lips, planting kisses wherever he could reach as she tried to avoid him. It probably didn't help that she was trying not to laugh at the same time.

"Fine." Draco huffed, using his superior strength to pull her body flush against his, despite her resistance. "I'll send him flowers and a gushing note of apology. Are you happy now? Can we fuck yet?"

Isabelle gave in and laughed, because how could she not? This what they did. This was what they had done almost from the moment they had met. They bickered endlessly about stupid little things and they had lots of amazing sex.

Of course they did other things too, but those were the things that kept the flame burning bright between them, the things which lit the spark in each of them and let the fires burn inside with an intensity that sometimes took Isabelle's breath away and which she knew they both lived for.

Her thoughts stalled as Draco's lips met hers and wiped away all else, just as they had done ever since the first time they'd kissed. She pulled him close and kissed back, his groan telling her that he was just as lost in this moment as her.

They had sex of course. Fiery, passionate, intense sex that left her breathless and tingling, before Draco whisked her up to their bedroom, soothed them back into calmness and then made love to her with such intense gentleness that Isabelle could hardly breathe.

Afterwards they slept in each other's arms, though she woke just a couple of hours later and wrapped herself in his discarded shirt before stepping out onto their balcony.

The night was warm and clear and Isabelle tilted her head towards the stars, eyes vaguely searching for the constellations all the most important people in her life were named after. Her thoughts lingered still on her relationship with Draco, and inevitably on sex.

It was still amazing. Even all these years and five children later the sex was still passionate and incredible and everything sex should be.

Sometimes, like now, Isabelle wondered what their relationship would be once they were too old to have sex anymore. If they bickered and had sex what did they have left once there was no more sex? Just the bickering? Was that really a marriage?

She gripped the railing of the balcony and sucked in a deep breath of the sultry night air, suddenly unaccountably worried about what the future might hold.

A noise in the room distracted her, and a moment later Draco stepped out onto the balcony wearing a pair of pyjama pants, his usually immaculate hair sleep and sex mussed in a way that made him look a lot younger than he actually was. She smiled, because she just couldn't help it, and he smiled back, slipping his arm around her waist.

"Everything ok, sweetheart?" he murmured, as he nuzzled against her hair. She dropped her head to his chest and nodded, because when Draco held her everything really was ok. After a moment she felt his hand move though her hair and he pulled away slightly revealing the butterfly now sitting elegantly on the end of his finger.

The sight of it soothed some of her anxieties, because it reminded her that this was Draco and that Draco was nothing if not unusual and that just because their relationship was unusual didn't mean it wasn't going to last. She gazed down at the butterfly until Draco twitched his finger and it fluttered around their heads and back through the open door to the house, where Isabelle had no doubt she would find it tomorrow nestled back in its box.

She smiled and tiled her head up to look at Draco, who caught her face gently in his hands and looked at her intently with soft grey eyes, his voice no more than a whisper.

"I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat at that because though she knew he did, he showed her everyday and she saw it every time he looked at her, he didn't say it very often. Those three words were something special. Words to be treasured each time they were uttered.

She didn't say them back, because that was not how they worked either. She just gazed into his eyes and smiled softly, letting him stroke at her hair and caress her cheek until he finally dipped his head and caught her lips in a soft, tender kiss.

And she knew then, as she had always known, that even in the years to come everything would still be fine; they'd still bicker endlessly and it still wouldn't matter, because always and forever they'd have each other.

Fin