I don't own any of this and never will. No money made here. It's all J.K.'s and co.

AN: Well, one more to go. I always get a sort of depression upon finishing a fanfiction. Except this time. This story needs to be over and I have a lot of other good plot bunnies to follow. And to my reviewers who love it and have disabled PMs, I hear you and thanks for reading and reviewing. Love you!

You know what's more depressing than this story being over? OMFG I want a Draco like this one, and he DOESN'T EXIST. Bloody hell.

Draco stood right next to her, arm about her waist, lips upon her neck, as she picked up the telephone to dial Ginny. She tried to swat him away, but he only held on tighter.

"Draco, I'm trying to make a phone call-"

"Don't let me stop you."

"Draco!"

But she dialed anyhow and a second later the phone was picked up on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, somewhat breathlessly.

"Hermione? What's the matter? He is there, isn't he? Has he said-"

"Oh, nothing like that," Hermione hastened to assure her. "Draco, stop it-"

Ginny burst into laughter. "Put him on."

Hermione dutifully shoved the telephone at Draco, who stared at it as if it was a snake.

"Hello?" they could hear Ginny saying and Hermione finally put it up to his ear when he refused to take it. In retaliation, Draco wound his arms about her waist, forcing her to hold the phone for him as he pressed kisses to her cheeks.

"Draco!" Hermione hissed and he grinned evilly before acquiescing and taking the phone, himself.

"Hello, Ginny," Draco murmured, keeping one arm firmly about Hermione, who was trying to edge away so she could finish cleaning up the kitchen.

"Draco," the red-head replied. "So, things are going well?"

"One might say that," he said cautiously.

"Oh, stop. I can hear the smug grin you're wearing. So, you're back and you're going to do right by my best friend, is that it?"

"That is rather the idea," he said. "I've asked her to marry me, if that's alright with you." He looked down at the witch in his arms, satisfied to see a blush spread over her cheeks. He kissed her again.

"That's alright with me, if it's what she wants. Well, in that case…I'm glad you're back. And what about your father?"

"We'll work something out," Draco assured her. "He wants to stay where he is, anyway, so we won't be risking things too much."

"That's good." Ginny sounded extremely relieved.

"You really cared about this, didn't you?" Draco asked suddenly.

Ginny snorted. "What do you think? She's my best friend and taking you two in did more for her in a month and a half than anything else did in eight years. I'm…" Her voice trailed off and she took a breath. "I'm grateful to you. You make her happy."

"She makes me happy," Draco replied very seriously. "And I didn't think I'd feel that way, ever again. And I owe my freedom and health to you both, and to Potter. Please tell him thank you, for me."

"Tell him yourself," Ginny responded, voice gruff with emotion. "You have to come into the city with Hermione anyway, to meet with ministry officials."

Draco gave Hermione an is-that-so look and she shrugged apologetically. "We have an appointment tomorrow," she admitted. He sighed.

"Alright, Ginny. I'll see you both tomorrow, it seems."

"Good, now hand me back."

Draco handed her the telephone and she took it primly, swatting him away as he leaned in for another kiss.

"Ginny?"

"Hermione, I have to ask. Are you happy?"

Hermione smiled and was about to give a snarky reply, but her eyes fell on Ron's wand, sitting there harmlessly on the hall table. She was silent for a long moment as she considered Ginny's question seriously. Was she happy? Could she ever truly be happy, again?

But how she felt with Draco's arm around her- possessive and comforting all at once- there was no question it was closer to genuine joy than she'd felt in a very long time. Even the calm she felt with her horses was born of their not being human, despite the souls she knew they had. With Draco, she felt a hundred things at the same time- ease and fear, love and anger. Yet they didn't make her uncertain of her future with him. If anything, they made her excited, caused her heart to speed up and her breath to come short. They made her want to kiss him, to laugh with him, to share her life with him.

All the things she'd once been so certain she and Ron would have…and she'd called that thing happiness, then.

"Yes," she said before Ginny could ask the question again. "Yes, I am happy. If that's what all this means." She felt Draco tense some and turned her gaze to him, but he was smiling down at her. He understood her hesitation, the evaluation that had to be made. He'd done the same thing, after all, time and again. The lines of emotions were not easily defined, anymore. Life was too complex.

Ginny spoke. "What do you-"

"We never thought we'd have these things again, Gin," Hermione said softly. "Family…love. Feeling safe, for once in our lives. When was the last time you didn't need a cigarette, or I didn't need a pill? But we don't need them now, do we? It might seem like a messed up way to define happiness, but it's what we have."

"I understand," Ginny responded. "And I'm glad for you."

There was the sound of sniffling.

"Are you crying?"

"When am I ever not crying?" Ginny retorted.

"That's my line," Hermione said and Ginny gave a gurgling laugh.

"Not anymore, it isn't."

Hermione raised her eyes to Draco's again and lifted a hand, smoothed his hair back tenderly. She smiled.

"I think you're right," she replied. "It's not."

Draco leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers and she heard Ginny blow her nose.

"See you tomorrow, Gin?"

"Yeah," her friend replied. "I need to go, too. Bright and early- don't forget."

"I won't," Hermione said, voice barely a whisper, and then Draco was taking the phone from her hands and hanging it up before bringing his lips down to hers.

Neither moved for a long time.

The next afternoon found them in a small restaurant, seated across from Harry and Ginny. The appointment at the ministry had gone as expected, with multiple suspicious glances cast at Draco and wondering looks sent towards Hermione. But Harry's evidence and testimony about the fire and Draco's supposed amnesia held fast and soon enough they were signing papers, releasing him into the world as a free man, awarding the Malfoy estate back to him.

They turned right around and made a stop at the wizarding realty offices to put the manor on the market. Then Draco insisted they stop at Gringotts so he could make a withdrawal, since, as he'd said yesterday, they had a ring to purchase (in addition to a new wand for Draco and other various amenities).

Harry didn't bat an eye through any of this conversation, while Ginny and Hermione conversed in low tones and sparkling eyes. Although Hermione looked considerably more embarrassed than Draco. The change his freedom had wrought in him was phenomenal, though Harry could see there was still something bothering him. Over lunch, he learned what it was.

"I saw the looks they gave me," Draco murmured. "There's no way it's safe for my father to…"

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," Harry said. "I wish there was a way, but you're right. It's too soon. It's a risk just having you come back."

"I understand that," Draco said and Hermione took his hand in hers, pressed it gently.

"Can't we at least see him?" she asked Harry.

Harry looked about at all three of them. "I think we can afford for you to go back once, get whatever things you might want. Say goodbye," he said softly. "But until the ministry quiets more- which I'm hoping will be soon- you'll have to do with letters."

"What's your definition of soon?" Ginny asked pointedly and Harry frowned.

"I honestly can't say. You're with the ministry now, Gin. You've seen what they're like. Five years, maybe?"

"Five years!" Hermione gasped and Draco looked to her, shook his head.

"Probably longer, knowing those bastards."

Harry looked incredibly sorry. "If the three of you want to be together…I just can't see a way at this point. I'm sorry."

Hermione spoke up. "I know a way," she said, and the rest of the table stared at her. She flushed. "Draco and I can leave. Move to some other country. If we're somewhere else that lowers the chances-"

"Hermione," Draco began, interrupting her, "I can't let you do that. Pack up? Leave behind all you've built up here? Leave your friends, when they're the only family you have left?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. "You're my family now, too," she said, but Draco shook his head again.

"No, Hermione. It's alright. I already told you, Dad…he'll be ok with this. I think we'd expected to see each other more than once in five years, but…we were both prepared for this inevitability when I got that letter last week."

Hermione looked incredibly sad and Draco smiled at her. "Cheer up. We get a visit before it's goodbye- and it's not goodbye forever."

"He'll have a grandchild who won't even know him," Hermione said, voice quavering. "It isn't right."

"You can send him pictures," Harry said. "Muggle photos, so they won't stand out."

Hermione brightened up a little. "Home videos," she added. "Oh, Harry, what about phone calls?"

"Too risky, I think," Harry replied. "But look, the food's here. Let's eat before it gets cold or we're too depressed to do it justice."

Draco looked as if he agreed, and wanted to put such awful thoughts from his head. Not see his father, the man he'd cared for relentlessly, more than his own life, even, for years? It would have been unbearable to consider, if not for the witch sitting next to him, picking at her food with a solemn look upon her face. Ginny looked equally somber, and the two witches pushed their food about restlessly. Draco watched this through a few bites of his own food before he had an idea. He lifted a hand and called the waiter over. Harry watched him curiously. Draco put on a brave smile and glanced round the table before turning to the waiter.

"Could you bring us the dessert menus, please?"

The women couldn't help brightening some at the prospect of cake instead of real food, and the conversation wound its way to safer, happier topics.

But the good mood of the day had been lost, and a solemnity was cast over Draco's and Hermione's reunion that would not be lifted, for all the chocolate, engagement rings, plans, or love making they indulged in. So, Draco wasn't entirely surprised when later that night, he got up to use the loo and found Hermione wasn't lying beside him. He left the bedroom and checked the kitchen- no Hermione. She wasn't in the living room, either, and when he saw the back door was unlatched, he hurriedly slipped on some shoes and a shirt and walked outside. In the distance, he could see some lights were on in the barn and he summoned his new wand before starting out across the grass.

He crept into the new barn quietly and started down the dimly lit aisle until he came to an open stall. He checked the nameplate. Echo, of course. He peered inside and found Hermione standing next to the mare, leaning against her with her arms about the mare's neck. In the lamplight he could see evidence of tears on her face.

"Hermione," he called softly and she tensed slightly, then turned her head and smiled weakly at him.

"Draco," she said, and relinquished her hold upon the mare to walk over to him and let him put his arms about her. She rested her head against his shoulder and gave a weary sigh.

"Thinking about Dad," he guessed and she nodded.

"And everything else."

"Trying to solve the world's problems again, are we?" he teased and was rewarded by a soft, self deprecating laugh.

"I suppose so. Oh, Draco. How can we be sure of this?"

"Because I love you," he replied and she lifted her head and looked up at him.

"I know," she said. "But will it really be enough? When the only thing you have to look forward to is me and…whatever sort of child I'm having-"

"Human, I hope," he said with a straight face and she swatted his arm, then leaned into him again.

"You know what I mean," she said. "And the work out here…you're really happy to give up your old life to move to a horse farm? To work with a therapy program? To collect eggs every morning, the rest of your life, when there's only me to come back to? When you don't know when you'll see your father again?"

"Only you?" he whispered and gave a short laugh. "Hermione, you're all I want. You and this child, this farm. I want them all. I wouldn't have come back if I didn't. I knew this place was part of the deal. You'll never leave it and I wouldn't ask you to. Dad wouldn't ask you to. Besides, this is where I found myself again, Hermione. Here, with these horses, these bloody chickens. And you."

She laughed, she couldn't help it, and he laughed with her. When they'd quieted down, he kissed her soundly.

"Feel better?"

"I do," she admitted. "Everyday that you're here."

He snorted and ruffled her hair, then took her hand. "You're the strong one, Hermione. It's your strength that makes me able to stomach anything. Even collecting eggs the rest of my life." He winked down at her and she rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's leave these poor creatures to their sleep. I'll make you some tea, yeah?"

"Yeah," she replied quietly. She gripped his hand tightly. "Perhaps we should finally write to Lucius, as long as we're up."

"That's a good idea," he replied. "And then I'm going to fuck you until you're too tired to think any longer."

"Draco!" she gasped and he stopped in the middle of the path, and the moonlight, and swung her into his arms.

"I love it when you say my name that way," he murmured before kissing her again and she grinned against his lips, unable to help herself.

"Draco Malfoy, you are incorrigible," she said when he came up for air.

"And insatiable," he added, kissing her neck, her jaw, her cheeks. "Don't forget that."

"Draco…"

Her breathless protests were lost to the night air, gone amidst the chirping of crickets and the lazy flight of june bugs; while the moon continued to light up their intertwined bodies, reassured that for now, at least, all doubts were assuaged beneath the tremor of passionate kisses and trembling fingertips.

Lucius was having tea with the lady of the house- she had insisted on visiting him while Draco was away, to make sure he wasn't lonely. Laughable, considering how much his heart still beat only for Narcissa- and how much his affections were tied up in his son and a certain curly haired witch. But whatever her motives for desiring his company, he found it relieved monotony and her conversation was enjoyable, at least. He was not entirely surprised to find that he could have a great deal in common with muggles, after all- but then, she was the sister of the lord of the manor. Not that it was nearly as prestigious as Malfoy Manor had been, but what was? Buckingham Palace, perhaps.

He raised a brow as she made another clever remark about the current prime minister and was gratified when she broke off to compliment him on the tea cakes again.

"Wherever did you learn to cook like this?" she asked. "It's delightful. I absolutely must have some. You know, I'm sure Drake told you that I've been asking for you to come work in our gardens, but I rather think I'd better have you as our chef, instead. How would that be, Luke? You're not terribly insulted, are you?"

She also babbled, but that was alright. It allowed him time to plan his answers so that he didn't say something ridiculous about the wizarding world and give himself away.

Now he smiled politely and shook his head. "Not at all. You've complimented me, in fact. Why would I be insulted?"

She looked slightly startled and smoothed her hair down self-consciously. "Oh, I thought…you have an air about you, Luke. I'm sure you must be aware of it. I did wonder if perhaps you were gentry, perhaps…?"

Lucius' smile broadened. "One might say that. But that's all behind us. The simple life for me, now. I prefer it that way. I should warn you, however, with Drake's being away so long…I believe he's had an offer elsewhere."

The woman looked sly. "I wondered when I gave him that letter. And there was a woman involved too, I'll wager."

"You are astute," Lucius said and the woman tittered.

"Just because I'm unmarried doesn't mean I know nothing of romance, dear Luke. You, for instance- there's tragedy in your past. And clearly, you had a wife…or partner, if you have a son. But there, I shouldn't pry. I apologize."

Lucius shook his head again and poured more tea.

"Sometimes it can be…good to remind oneself of the past. To think on the happier occasions."

"That's very true," the woman responded. "I was young once. I understand regrets…lost loves…" Her face grew wistful, but a moment later she smiled again. "And there I go again. You really ought to stop me, Luke."

"Trust me, dear lady," he responded with a gallant bow of his head, "I'll stop you when necessary."

She tittered again and was just replying when there was a knock on the cottage door. The clearly well-fed kitten mewed from his post on the window sill and Lucius looked over anxiously. He'd been expecting word of some sort for days- was this…

"Excuse me," he murmured and stood, walked to the door.

The mail man was at the door and holding a package and a couple of letters. Lucius thanked the man and took them, then shut the door and made his way back to the small living area.

The lady looked at the package curiously. "My word," she said, "who is that from? Drake, perhaps?"

Lucius frowned for a minute as he looked at the missives and then gave her a distracted glance.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said, "but do you mind if I open these?"

"Not at all," she replied. "I'll be perfectly quiet. Pretend I'm not even here."

Lucius smirked, but focused on the mail. He opened the first letter and scanned it- another vague, coded missive informing him that Draco had arrived safely and was now a free man. Wonderful. He couldn't help the way his heart leapt a little at the news- he was incredibly happy for his son. This was what Draco had wanted all along, and what he wanted for his son...what Narcissa would have wanted.

The second letter gave him pause. It smelled faintly of juniper and was in Hermione's handwriting, though she'd clearly written it with Draco hovering over her shoulder.

Dear Luke, it ran,

Drake and I are making plans to come and see you. We regret we won't be able to visit much after this, but Drake assures me you understand it is for the best. I look forward to seeing you again, as does he. He insisted I be the one to write, though I don't know why. We wanted you to know that, well, I'm expecting a baby. It was a complete surprise to us all. I do hope you'll be pleased? It's a frightening adventure, but Drake and I are determined to see it all through, together. He has asked me to marry him and I suppose you'll want to give us your blessing. Well, that's ok, because I wouldn't feel right without it. Everything has changed now that he's back, but for the better, I think.

The estate is in his hands and he is selling the house and most of the property, to raise money for some charity work. There will be a fund for you, Luke, too, so you'll never want for anything- we will both take care of you as best we can, from afar. Oh, dear. That looks so dreadful, written down. I'm sorry, Luke. I do wish things were different. But we'll write constantly- Drake is reminding me I'll write, not him, the bugger. And we'll be sure and take plenty of photos and videos of the little one when he or she arrives. Holidays, birthdays- we'll be together in spirit.

There, that's enough of that. We seem determined to be cheerful, I suppose. But what else can we be? There's so much to be thankful for. I understand that the lady of the manor up there wants you to go work for her, according to Drake. I think that's a good idea. You should keep busy. We've agreed that people should know Drake is moving to get married and take a job elsewhere- some sort of foreign country. We'll figure things out when we see one another. But that way you'll be able to tell people something. Now, I'm sure you're wondering about the package.

Drake and I were going through the house in preparation for its sale and we found a few odds and ends we thought you might like to have. Everything else of value we'll have with us, but these should stay with you. Nothing that will give you away, as long as you don't go putting advertisements in the papers. Lucius smiled at that and could almost picture the wry look that must have been upon her face as she'd written that. He finished reading.

At any rate, we hope you like them, and we expect to make our trip in the next two weeks. Drake insists there's room at the cottage for both of us, but I trust you'll let us know otherwise if you need to. Please take care of yourself, Luke. We miss you terribly.

Your loving son and future daughter-in-law- and that part was written in Draco's hand, which gave Lucius a chuckle- Drake and Jeannie

P.S. The picture reminds me rather of old photographs from my great grandparents' era. She's sitting so still, it's uncanny.

Lucius set the letter aside- out of reach from prying eyes- and then lifted the package, contemplating it. A picture? What on earth did she mean, he couldn't help wondering, though there was a small flame of hope within him at the post script.

"What is it?" came the woman's voice. "Did the letter say?"

Lucius glanced at her again as he tore the wrapping away and opened the lid. "Odds and ends. They're cleaning house to prepare for a move," he answered vaguely and continued to pull packing materials from the box. Then he finally reached the prizes inside. The first item he pulled out was a flower press- a sizable one.

"I don't think I've ever seen one so large," the woman murmured and he smiled wistfully as he looked at it. There were a few heads of narcissi captured between the glass panes and though he had to think for a moment, he finally knew their significance.

Narcissa's wedding flowers.

The next item was a long, slender box. Lucius lifted the lid slowly, wary of what he might find, but an instant later a smile spread across his face.

Those awful Easter pearls. There was small note tucked inside the box, beneath the necklace, and he pulled it out and read it. It was in Narcissa's hand, and it was a note that if she was ever blessed with a granddaughter, the pearls were to go to her. It was just the sort of thing she would have written to herself, that he could imagine her jotting down once she'd realized she'd never have a daughter of her own. His heart felt squeezed tight and he had to swallow against tears as he set the box out next to the flower press.

Finally, he lifted the last package from the box, pulled the butcher paper away from it slowly. It was a framed picture, and the instant he laid eyes on it he found it difficult to breathe.

Narcissa, his wife, the love of his life. Beaming at the camera as if there were no tomorrow, smile bright, eyes trained straight ahead, hair falling about her shoulders in blond waved. Looking angelic and absolutely perfect. So still, despite the occasional blink, because all her attention was captured by the man wielding the camera- himself. He remembered taking that portrait. He remembered smiling with her beforehand and kissing her afterwards, telling her he'd love her always. And there she was again, in his hands now.

His wife.

He didn't realize he was crying until the woman shifted and then leaned forward to hand him a frilly handkerchief.

"I…pardon me," he murmured, refusing the dainty lace and reaching for his own, sturdy handkerchief.

"May I?" the woman asked and had the portrait in her hands before he could protest.

"This must be her, isn't it?" she said. "Your wife, I mean. She's very beautiful. Do you mind my asking…how long?"

"Thirty-four years of marriage," he replied softly. "And she's been gone for eight of them."

There was a brief silence as she met his eyes over the top of the picture.

"I see," she said quietly after a moment. "I'm so sorry." Then she gasped and nearly dropped the picture.

Lucius caught it in time and took it away, setting it up on a corner table, turned slightly so she couldn't see it. "You know," the woman began again, "I almost fancied she…moved somehow. I must have been eating too many of these cakes. Really, Luke, I'd better be going. I'm sorry I intruded on your…"

She floundered for words for a second and Lucius stepped in quickly.

"Please, think nothing of it. I appreciate your visiting me. I wasn't expecting a package today and I shouldn't have opened it in front of you."

She looked grateful, but still somewhat disturbed, and he saw her to the door. They exchanged some more pleasantries and he promised to reconsider her offer to come and work for her. Then she was gone and he was alone with his box of memories. He wandered back over to them and sat holding the pearls and the flower press for a long time, his eyes never straying from her portrait. And he wondered if these small gifts would be consolation enough in the coming years, when he wouldn't see his family at all. He could only hope so; and finally, with a sigh both contented and full of regret, he stood up and began to take the tea things away.

In the end, they decided to pass Lucius off as one of Hermione's few living relatives. A distant cousin, Luke Mallory, living up in Scotland, who served as chef at the manor house Draco used to work at. They couldn't see him after that first visit, but it was a sacrifice all three were willing to make, and they could at least write letters. Not to mention that Lucius had a fine set of photo albums capturing every moment of their life together in the stillness of muggle photography. They weren't sure if things would ever quiet down enough for their relationship to eventually become more public; and even in that event, Lucius would likely spend the rest of his life as Luke. Fortunately, Draco's and Hermione's use of pseudonyms didn't raise any eyebrows. The wizarding world knew that despite both Hermione's and Draco's return to magic, they preferred their privacy. And, partly because Hermione was who she was and partly because Harry Potter was good at intimidating people, they got all the privacy they wished.

Even when Hermione took Sirius up on his offer of starting a joint therapy program for the wizards remaining in his care, the press stayed away for the most part- though there was more interest when the program grew to include wizarding families, five years later. Hermione and Draco decided to run it a few times a week, only when her regular muggle therapy students weren't on the farm, and during the off season; as Hermione had finally gotten Draco to agree about the issue of the children's safety.

And of course, speaking of children's safety, though Hermione had a time of it, little Mona Malfoy entered the world in perfect health. Her head full of dark curls and bright grey eyes peering out of a round, pink face. Her parents loved her instantly, even though her arrival was overshadowed just a few months later by the wedding of Harry and Ginny.

Hermione and Draco didn't mind the loss of attention too much, however, as they had their own set of brilliantly happy wedding photos sitting in a row along the mantle piece. Hermione looking divine in her modest, antique lace gown; and Draco looking so smug and proud in his dress robes, with eyes only for her, one hand sitting possessively on her rounded belly in every photograph. They'd gotten married in the garden in back of the farm house; with their closest and dearest friends all around them, wishing them well and smiling widely, despite huddling under umbrellas and newspapers.

It had rained on their wedding day, after all.

But, Draco had heard that was good luck in some parts of England…and so it was.

AN: But wait, there's more! Epilogue to follow. Since, you guys know me, I love an epilogue. ;)