Chapter 40: Epilogue

Fred and George moved back into the flat above their shop the day after the battle, starting repairs and reopening their doors before a month was out. Mr. Lovegood had likewise moved back to his crooked house. Harry had publicly thrown his support for Kingsley as minister, then hurried back to the safety of Grimmauld Place. The house felt like a safe haven to those young adults who had spent more than six months hiding there. It was weeks before the group would go out into the magical public. It was six months before they would leave the house without first checking with Luna. Slowly though, the heroes of the war rejoined society, which was facing many reforms under the new minister.

-One Year Post Battle of Hogwarts-

Hermione is spitting mad. That's what Draco notices first when he walks into the kitchen. He raises an elegant eyebrow at his witch and she tosses the Daily Prophet at him. Her hair sparks wildly around her face, seeming to grow in her anger.

Homewrecking Hermione is at it again!

Draco skims over the article which consists mostly of hearsay that Hermione is trying to steal Ron from his new bride. Ron and Tracey were married behind the Burrow a month ago. Tracey having insisted that Draco, to his annoyance, give her away. There's an accompanying picture where Hermione place a hand on his forearm as they both laugh about something.

She had taken him out in celebration for finishing his Auror training. And that had made the front page as this rubbish.

"This isn't news," Hermione insists when Draco looks up from the paper. "News is the werewolf reforms Kingsley got in. Not...not this."

"Speaking of Kingsley," Draco redirected, "have you thought about his proposal?"

"Yes, but," she sighs, her hair deflating, "I'm still not sure. It's still strange to me that there isn't any Uni for witches and wizards. I mean, transfiguration and charms is hardly going to prepare me for a career in law."

"Yes and no," Draco answers patiently, though this isn't the first discussion on the matter. "Understanding those will be useful in dealing with laws and cases that use those. But the apprenticeship only requires a NEWT in History of Magic, which you have. They will teach all the specific you need there. It's really a matter of if that's what you want to do."

"He's really the best their is, you know, the ministry lawyer, Mr. Pickit. So if I'm going to do it, he's the one I should apprentice under."

"Do you want to though?" he presses. She nods slowly.

"I think so." Hermione smiles, "I could make such a difference there."

That night, Mr. Lovegood, Mrs. Malfoy, Fred, George, Hermione, Draco, Harry, Luna, Tracey, Ron, and Blaise gather around the table in Grimmauld Place for dinner. The decision was quickly made that they would avoid the public tonight on the anniversary of their victory. Instead, they'd eat together in quiet thanks that they lived.

Ron, Tracey, and Blaise are still in their Auror robes, having just finished working at the ministry celebration where they felt more on display than security. Fred and George each have purple dust sprinkled in their hair from whatever they were "developing" at the shop. Draco, in a button up shirt and slacks, looking every bit the prince he is, stands and raises his glass.

"To the future," he says, "may it be filled with hope and loyalty and lack the rubbish of the past." Everyone raises their glasses and says,

"To the future," before sipping the provided wine.

"And in that effort," Draco continued, still standing, "a gift for our lovely prophet for guiding us to this future. May you find a good use for it." He hands a thick envelope over to Luna who slides it open and reads over the contents. She smile serenely.

"I don't know that I've ever been given an entire publication before," Luna smirks as Draco sits down.

"Well the previous owners were right rubbish," Draco says, threading his fingers through Hermione's. "I thought you would be better at printing the truth."

"The Daily Prophet?" Harry says in surprise as he reads over Luna's shoulder.

"Is now owned and ran by an actually prophet," Draco answers. "That should keep unfounded gossip off the front page." He turns to Hermione who smiles gratefully.

-One Year, Six Months Post Battle of Hogwarts-

Harry and Luna sit on a blanket among the rolling hills of Ireland. There is nothing but beautiful landscape as far as the eye can see. Harry offers her the tin of fresh strawberries from the picnic basket. The witch pulls out the center most strawberry, a habit the wizard had seen many times in action. Taking a bite of the sweet berry, she looks down to see a ring nestled in the strawberries. The diamond is encircled in gold with small blue sapphires lining the band as it curves into a circle. Her eyes search out his.

"Will you marry me?" Harry asks.

"Yes," she whispers in reply. Harry pulls the ring out of the tin and slips it onto her left hand. He kisses her fingers, then looks back at the witch, his witch, who is still staring at him in amazement.

"You didn't see that coming?" he smirks. She shakes her head, blonde hair dancing around her face. She presses her lips to his, her whole body vibrating with happiness. Luna tastes of strawberries and hope.

Draco sighs in contentment as he looks over his house. It's finally done. He had the original manor destroyed, then the land cleansed-taking two lunar cycles to get all of the dark magic's taint from the earth. Then, and only then, did he design and have built a new home. It was by no means small, but one was unlikely to get lost in the thing.

His mum, Hermione, and he will move in tomorrow, the last to leave Grimmauld Place. Harry and Luna had moved into a flat above the Daily Prophet offices and the witch was changing the newspaper. A handful of trusted journalists knew her secret and she would give them the information, waiting just till it actually happened to print and distribute.

But Draco waited, waited for this. The house has windows everywhere, pouring in natural light. Light wood runs across the floors and makes up the shelves in the library. Everything bright and hopeful.

-Two Years Post Battle of Hogwarts-

The group shares dinner once more for the anniversary, the only difference being that they gather at Draco's home (he'd insisted it not be referred to as Malfoy Mannor) instead of Grimmauld Place.

Everyone laughs at Harry's red face as he tries to convince Luna that their wedding (in two months' time) shouldn't be clothing optional in the moonlight.

"It's traditional," Luna says lightly, as if that would change his opinion.

"Please," Harry replies.

"Oh Harry dear," Mrs. Malfoy takes pity on the boy, turning the conversation away. "At least he is making an honest witch of his love. I do so wonder when my son might do the same." Chuckles circle round the group as Draco glares at his mum. "Perhaps you might deign to give me grandbabies before I pass." The previous chuckles turn to full belly laughs at Hermione's wide eyes and red face.

"Don't do it," Tracey says, her hand resting on the small swell of her stomach. "It's trap."

"How are you doing dear?" Mrs. Malfoy asks.

"The 'morning' sickness finally faded a week ago," the pregnant witch answers. "So I'm feeling alright, but Susan Bones-she's my direct supervisor-has me sitting at a desk all day. I swear I can feel my ankles swelling already."

"You shouldn't be in the field," Ron insists, earning a glare from his wife

"He's right," Draco adds, making a face as he agrees with the red head.

"Should we turn the conversation back to how you are such a tosser you haven't even proposed to Hermione?" Tracey threatens.

"I'm just trying to look out for my godchild," Draco says, hands raised in surrender.

"And who says you're going to be the godfather," she snaps back. Draco looks offended at the idea it could be anyone else.

"We haven't talked about godparents yet," Ron whispers, face going far too pale.

"We've got five months still. We've got time," Trasey answers with a roll of her eyes, far to used to her husband alternating between excited and terrified.

After all the guests had left and Mrs. Malfoy had retired to her room, Draco and Hermione stroll through the gardens. The landscape had been so transformed that it beared no resemblance to the place where Hermione was held prisoner.

"You're mother doesn't know," Hermione says, fingers sliding over the two-diamond solitaire ring that hung on a chain around her neck, beneath her robes. "That you proposed." It wasn't exactly a question.

"No," Draco answers anyway.

"I'm still scared," she says, referring to the reason she postponed them actually being engaged when he had asked just two months after the final battle.

"The spell doesn't work that way, love," he reminds. "When we marry, it won't undo it."

"We don't know that. The translation of the spell is 'Live Again' and with the rhyme that Headmaster Dumbledore told me, that's all we have. We don't know how it works." Draco threads his fingers through hers.

"I believe it's run it's course." He continues before she can speak, "But I will wait until you are ready. I will wait forever. You know that." She nods and silently lets him pull her to a bench surrounded by sweet smelling flowers.

"June 28th, 2000," she whispers.

"Hmmm?"

"The first timeline," she answers.

"The day the war was lost."

"The day I cast the spell."

"I remember," he reaffirms.

"The day after, the 29th, I'll be ready then," Hermione says, looking into his eyes. "I'll marry you then."

"That's just over seven months. Are you sure?" Draco asks, though a smile is already taking over his features. She returns his smile.

"Yes. June 29th."

-Two Years, Six Months Post Battle of Hogwarts-

Hermione stands before the Wizenmonts. With her apprenticeship completed, Mr. Pickit had her going through old laws that needed to be modified or taken off the books all together as he finished up his last year before retirement.

"Attorney Granger, of the Ministry Legal Department, Ministry Codes and Law Division, requesting the repeal of Marriage Law 42 Section 86," Collin Clevey, the secretary to the wizengamot, announces. "The Law reads, 'For a wizard to legally be married to a witch, the wizard or his family need provide a dowry to the family of the witch, specifically the closest living relative. The closest blood related relative of the witch, may decline a dowry. The dowry may not consist of more than one fifth of the wizard's vaults. Unless allowed by witch's relative, the dowry may also not be less than one tenth of the witch's or witch's family's vaults.'"

Collin sat down, handing the floor over the Hermione.

"This statute has not been used in over 100 years," Hermione began, "and has a great ability for misuse. I ask this esteemed body of witches and wizards to repeal Marriage Law 42, Section 86."

"Do you wish to remove all tradition from our society?" Flint Sr asked.

"Tradition? No, sir. I merely wish to do as I am assigned, clean up the contradictory and abusive laws," Hermione answers politely.

"How is this abusive?" Percy Weasley, who had taken up the Prewett Family seat, asks.

"The last time the law was used was in 1894, when," Hermione refers to her notes, "Sandra McCoal was married to Aldebaran Black. The McCoal family spanned many generations of witches and wizards, but were very poor. Sandra, after marrying Aldebaran, became quite the potioneer and wealthy in her own right. She kept her proceeds separate to build an inheritance for her second and third children as Aldebaran's vault would be inherited by their first born.

"Sandra and Aldebaran had been married fifteen years, when Sandra's father, Sean McCoal, demanded a dowry or he nullify the marriage and make the children illegitimate. The law does not indicate when the dowry has to be provided and, as that tradition was not upheld even then, there had not been one. Sean McCoal took nearly one fifth of Aldebaran Black's vaults, using Sandra's own vaults to justify the amount of gold.

"This is not a matter of tradition. The tradition of dowries has long fallen away. This is a matter of not holding onto laws that are unjust and/or allow for perversion. There are no laws to prevent giving a dowry, should a family wish to partake in that tradition. I was able to find over 50 cases in the last 100 years that did just that. However, the law was not enacted or used to force the wizard or dictate the amount."

The vote passes and the law is repealed, with a stipulation that it is not retroactive. All previous uses of the law cannot be appealed. A few members vote against as a matter of pride against the witch. It is her last time before the Wizengamot as Attorney Granger.

-June 29th, 2000-

"Are you ready?" Harry pops his head into the room. Hermione nods and walks out, taking his offered arm.

Harry guides her down the aisle, people standing on either side. A three year old Teddy stands next to Remus who has tears in his eyes. Mrs. Malfoy stands on the other side at the very end, smiling happily. Ron's arm is around Tracy who's holding their sleeping baby, Rose.

Harry hugs Hermione tightly, then nods to Draco and stands at his seat before sitting with the rest audience. Luna stands barefoot on one side of the steps in the a floor length silver dress, her stomach not yet showing the growing life inside. Blaise stands on the other side of the steps, rose red embroidery on the black dress robes.

Waiting in the middle is Draco, her Draco.

Hermione had cast the spell not knowing the cost, though knowing it would take something dear for this chance, the chance to save her friends and their world. She couldn't know that it would pull Draco into her life, that he would become more than a friend. That he would save her-love her. She didn't know then, but she's so grateful now.

Harry told Voldemort in the final battle that loyalty was a power he lacked. It's easy to understand that afraid and power-hungry are not the same as loyal.

Loyalty.

The loyalty a mother has to her child to keep them safe and hidden and die protecting them. The loyalty a man has to his love, to enter a battle he swore he'd never see again. The loyalty of a daughter dying for her family.

The loyalty of a wife to an almost sister, enough to give her own life. The loyalty of a husband to fight like a demon when she's gone, but then go care for their son gently. The loyalty of an old man to die for the right reasons and hope that it will be enough.

The loyalty of a man to forsake his master and end a war. The loyalty of a witch to dive back in time, sacrificing so much.

So much loyalty. Maybe too much. Enough for them.