(A/N at the bottom)

Epilogue

To be completely honest, it didn't come as much of a surprise when Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy got married.

The majority of the town still knew them as Julia Smith and Evan McDermitt, names which they decided to keep for the public eye only. In private, they called each other by their given names, a system that worked fine most of the time. Occasionally they would slip up, accidently shouting "Draco!" while separated at the shopping center or the casual "Hermione," slipped into conversation at a restaurant. When asked, they claimed to use their middle names in conversation, because of an old school joke. It was vague, but it set confused minds at rest.

Orion never questioned it. He was smarter than many gave him credit for.

It'd been several years since the mysterious death of Benjamin Quincie, and only a select few knew the truth. Jasmine had finally convinced her husband to move across state, taking their two young children with them. Lucy also moved, although she went farther than a couple hundred miles. The last they'd heard of her was of her graduation from culinary school in Maine, which had been several months back. She'd been invited to the wedding, of course, but nobody blamed her when she didn't make an appearance.

Mr. Davis had an apartment over the new book store he was managing. So far, it was doing fantastically well, although that might've been due to the fact that Hermione often found an excuse to stop in nearly every day. (Twice on Sundays).

Though the boarding house was now closed, Mr. Xaing still lived there, helping out with odd jobs around the house. When asked, Madam Quincie did not reveal a thing, but Draco had his suspicions. He sent a silent prayer up to whatever deity was listening that the two would be happy together.

So far, they hadn't heard so much as a bad word about each other's company slip from the elderly couple's lips.

Blaise had sent Draco a letter several weeks after the funeral. It was short, just two scrawled lines that read: The deed is done. All is well. Draco slept better that night, and each night since.

Hermione quit her job soon after the debacle at the boarding house. She was probably going to be fired anyway, having missed so many shifts. Draco and Hermione dated, fought, and broke up. She moved out for a short period of time, eventually coming back to Draco's house because rent was quite high in the apartment she'd rented. They remained strictly platonic, although occasionally Draco would awake to find her in his bed, hair stuck to her forehead and sheets twisted around her ankles.

Hermione dated Andrew for a short period of time, but she found herself unsatisfied in the end. He knew Julia Smith, not Hermione Granger. That bothered her more than it should have. They had a clean-cut breakup; Andrew had already moved on anyhow. He wasn't unfaithful per se, but his eyes had wandered more than once during their relationship.

Hermione's had as well.

For a while she worked in Mr. Davis' new shop, which was convenient and kept her busy. After a while, however, Hermione grew bored with stacking books all day. While she loved the quiet one could only find inside a place as lovely as a quiet book shop, it was horribly dull to do the same work day after day, and was meant for a young teenager as their first job anyway. Hermione switched jobs to an assistant in the muggle veterinary hospital. Though she had no medical experience, they gave her easy tasks of answering the phone and arranging appointments. Over time she learned more about animals, and began to seriously consider attending a muggle university for a degree. (Which she eventually did, and was very successful).

Draco continued to work at the agency, though it was somewhat different without Mr. Linney around. A new 'Boss Man' (as Clara had called him for the first few months of him working there, she hadn't bothered to learn his name) took over, and things were never better. Draco had several promotions, and he was making enough money to get by. For the first time in a long time, he was almost 100% happy.

With his love life on hold, Draco decided to spend what time he had off from work on his son.

Orion had been admitted into public school, because it was best for him to learn basic things, such as math, and to develop friendships with other children his age. Although his teachers occasionally sent home reports of him saying 'odd things', Draco was thoroughly convinced that Orion was going to be fine.

Sometimes, Draco would awake with the child sleeping soundly next to him, blanket clutched in one tiny fist. It warmed Draco's heart, but also saddened him at the same time. His son was still having nightmares.

Although he would not share the content of his dreams, Orion did share plenty of other things. Like how his favorite color was blue, and his best friend was a girl in his kindergarten class named Melissa, and how he disliked the orange chicken from the Chinese takeout place they would order at from time to time. Draco found it interesting how willingly the boy wanted to share about his life. There was nothing better than hearing your child say something in a breathy whisper, so full of excitement, about a topic they were passionate about.

Well, perhaps there was one feeling that was just a tiny bit better than that.

"I love you, you git,"

Ah. That.

It had been a normal day; Draco and Hermione had both went their respective work places and Orion went to school. When Draco got home, Hermione was in the kitchen making dinner. She was stirring one pot with a wooden spoon and another using her wand. Orion was standing on a step stool by the sink, washing vegetables. Draco was struck with how domestic it was, and for a moment he could imagine it. Ten years from now, with Orion washing the vegetables and Hermione swishing her wand to stir water in the pot. And Draco would walk up behind her and shake her, to startle her. Hermione would whack him with a dishtowel and kiss him on the cheek, but at the last moment he'd turn his face so she was kissing his mouth instead and—

"Draco?"

"W-What?"

Hermione was standing in front of him, arms crossed. She was smirking up at him, though her eyebrows were pulled together in honest concern.

"Are you okay? I called your name five times,"

"F-fine… I'm fine. Just thinking about work," Draco was skilled in the art of lying, but nothing got past the sharp-witted Hermione Granger. He could tell she didn't believe him, but she didn't say much of it because the pot on the stove began smoking.

After they threw out the charred remains of their dinner (from what Draco concluded, it was supposed to be pork) and ate leftovers from two nights prior, Draco was ready to pass out. It hadn't been the best day at work, mostly because Clara kept forgetting to tell him he had meetings. He'd been late to nearly all of them (a grand total of five out of the six, which was a high number of meetings in general- usually he'd attend one or two, if any at all. Then again, they were going through renovations, which was difficult on business). Meetings were boring, and Draco disliked talking in them. It didn't help that one of his new co-workers, Quinten, was getting married in a few weeks. The man couldn't shut up about his beautiful fiancé, and it was pissing Draco off.

The blonde had been relaxing in the living room with a good book for about an hour when Hermione came in. She had changed into a t-shirt and sweat pants, but she'd never looked more beautiful.

"What're you still doing down here? You should come to bed,"

Bed.

Draco set the book aside, dog-earing the page so he'd remember where he left off. Hermione frowned at the action, but quickly turned it into a smile as he stood from the chair.

"Right. I'm exhausted," Draco said as he stretched.

"I know. I keep telling you, you need to sleep more,"

"No, I need to take off work more,"

"Yeah, right. You tell yourself that,"

They were at the base of the stairs now, and Draco wondered idly when he'd gotten there.

"I will. And when I lie to my boss about being sick, you'll support that statement,"

"Oh, like you 'supported' the week I took off when I was feeling under the weather,"

Draco remembered that week. Hermione had taken a few days off from the book store because she and Andrew had a fight about her working for the 'competition'. Hermione had come home in tears, and called in sick for work the next day. Draco felt like hunting down Andrew and beating the shit out of him, but it wouldn't have done much for Draco besides given him some satisfaction and the possibility of a jail cell for the evening. In the week it'd taken Andrew to apologize, Hermione had gone through all the tissues in the house, as well as all the chocolate. Several times Draco had tried to get her to come out of her room, but she ignored him. It stung to think that when Hermione and he fought, she never reacted like this.

It made Draco jealous for reasons he couldn't explain. But he didn't say anything, he just got Hermione more tissues and comfort food. And when Andrew came around on a sleepy Sunday to beg for forgiveness, Draco let him in.

Begrudgingly.

"I did support your week off. You were acting like a lunatic over that Andrew guy, what was I supposed to do?"

Hermione stopped halfway up a step, glaring at him from beneath her dark eyelashes.

"You barely even spoke to me!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't talk to me! I had to take Orion to preschool every day that week, do you know how annoying the people there were!? It was like attending a fun house!"

Hermione snorted, shaking her head at him, "A fun house?"

"Yeah! All the women cooed over Orion and they simply fell to their knees when they saw me, I mean have you seen me? But I didn't want them, believe it or not, because they're not nearly as interesting as you, of course, but I had to fight my way through for my son because I love the little twerp—"

Hermione stepped up so they were on the same stair. They were so close, so incredibly close, that Draco could feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. A stray curl had fallen over top her forehead, and he reached down to sweep it back in place. Hermione caught his hand, pressing her full lips to the palm. Draco could feel the static in the air, and he never wanted it to stop. He never wanted her to stop.

Instead of doing the honorable thing and letting her pass (because despite all this, he doubted she felt what he felt), Draco Malfoy did something that labeled him as either extremely brave or extremely stupid.

He brought his hand away from her lips to cup her cheek. Running his thumb over her soft skin, he leant down so they were nothing more than a hair's width apart. Sucking in a final, affirmative breath, Draco kissed her.

He expected her to push him away. Or possibly jinx him. One of the two. Or possibly both. At the same time.

He did not expect her to grip his face with all her might, slipping her tongue between his lips. He did not expect her to dig her fingernails into his skin so it left crescent shaped marks that he'd examine in the shower the following morning. He did not expect her to hitch her legs up around his waist, sending them crashing into the wall.

When he was forced to pull away for air, Hermione was smiling up at him in a way he'd never seen before. It gave him goosebumps of the best kind.

"I love you, you git,"

Draco couldn't do anything. He could barely breathe, though his lungs protested. He could barely think. He just stared, because the only woman he'd ever felt anything other than desire for had admitted that she loved him, and ohsweetmerlin—

"I…" Take a deep breath. "I do too. Love, I mean. I mean—"

(Draco Malfoy, messing up on a smoothe line? What had the world come to?)

"You know, this wasn't so difficult the first time,"

Draco snorted, remembering the night all those months ago, "Please, I was just happy to have you in my bed,"

Hermione tipped her head back to laugh, hitting the wall in the process. Seeing an opportunity, Draco leant down to pepper kisses across her exposed neck. Hermione's laugh morphed into a breathy moan, and damn if that wasn't the hottest thing Draco had ever heard.

"D-"

"Love?" Draco murmured against her skin, "Do me a favor," Hermione hummed, causing her throat to tremble. Draco muttered, "Shut up," as he bit down lightly. She'll just have to wear a scarf tomorrow.

Hermione laughed again, shakier this time. She pushed on his shoulders gently, but Draco didn't let up. He slammed his palm into the wall next to her head, dropping his own lower to get better access to her exposed skin. Hermione unwrapped her legs from his waist, lowering her feet to the ground. She giggled and slipped under his arm, dashing up the stairs.

Draco cursed, and followed her. She was laughing excitedly, already on the other end of the hallway. Right in front of his bedroom door.

"Come to bed, dear," She called teasingly, rolling her hips against the door. For something that was supposed to be a joke, it sure was sexy.

Draco stalked forward, determined. Hermione met him in the middle, and they were kissing again. Draco was still walking forward, until Hermione was pressed against the door. They fumbled for the door knob, and eventually Draco found it.

The door closed after them with a resounding slam.

X

After that, they dated openly. If anyone was suspicious as to what they were doing together in the house all alone, they didn't say. Months passed, and they fought and made up passionately. It was a strange relationship, but it worked. Better than was expected.

It was almost as if they'd had maturing to do. When they weren't involved with each other romantically before, it gave them time to experience new things. To see the world (or rather, the town) better. And when they started up again, well, they knew what they truly wanted and they stuck to it.

They still fought over the stupid things of course. Like the color of the teapot or the way Draco had talked to their waitress ("Dammit, I just SMILED at her. Is there a law against being polite now too?") but overall, they were happy. And in love. Completely, and totally in love.

("Urgh, gag me with a fucking spoon or some shit, you two are like two peas in a pod or something," Blaise had commented while he was on a holiday to visit them. It was almost sad how many muggle sayings he'd learnt while visiting America).

So when Draco proposed, it was hardly a surprise. And when Hermione said yes, well, it wasn't a shock. The waiter had pulled a bottle of champagne from the back, which he claimed they'd been keeping since the two got together. The staff had placed bets on when they thought Draco and Hermione were going to get engaged, and, as the etastic young man had described, they were simply 'too cute for words'.

(Perhaps Blaise wasn't too far off the mark).

He'd been clichéd, asking her at the bar where they'd first met. He'd spent weeks agonizing over the ring. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't have asked his mother for the family ring; passed down from Malfoy to Malfoy over generations. It had been on his mother's finger for years yet he'd never bothered to thoroughly examine it. He just knew that he'd one day inherit it. Without such a security, Draco was lost. He didn't know where to look, what to look for. He didn't even know her ring size!

He'd been to various jewelers, leaving each shop unsatisfied. The rings were too bland, or too glitzy. The salespeople were overly friendly or gave him the cold shoulder. It was surprising how he'd forgotten how specific and… well, picky he could be.

It was frustrating, yet oddly refreshing.

He finally found one, in a pawn shop ironically. It was beautiful; a gold ring with a simple diamond that was slightly larger than average. Settled on either side of the bigger diamond were two smaller stones. It was not flashy, but it was definitely worthy of a Malfoy bride (or McDermitt. Whatever. They were one in the same).

The wedding was held in June, nearly two years after he'd first met her at the bar. Jasmine flew in for the wedding, and she was pressed into service by Hermione as the maid of honor. Draco's best man was Blaise, who managed to take time off work at the Ministry to attend. Orion was the ring bearer, and Jasmine's youngest daughter Zoe was the flower girl. Jasmine's husband help plan the menu. Mr. Davis took pictures. Madam Quincie sat with Mr. Xaing. Clara cried.

Hermione looked beautiful, more so than usual. She couldn't stop smiling. Draco felt himself suffering from the same affliction.

The only thing he missed was his mother. She should be there, sniffling in the front row. Draco could envision her; silky hair tied up in a neat bun, make up perfectly in place, despite the tears. She'd smile, he knew she would. She would berate him about being surrounded by muggles later, and he'd get slapped upside the head when he retorted. His mother would greet Hermione with a stiff poise, and by the end of the evening they'd be sharing stories about Draco and family recipes.

The mental image faded when the preacher said the much anticipated words, "You may now kiss the bride."

If anyone noticed that Hermione was walked down the aisle by Mr. Xiang, or that Draco didn't have a father to give a toast, they didn't say. Hermione was positively glowing, and Draco was pleased to see her so pleased. The reception passed by in a blur of dances and fine wine. Draco and Hermione left for their house when they saw Clara slip her underwear from under her dress and throw it into the crowd. Blaise caught it in his teeth, and although Clara was nearly ten years older than him, the two had simultaneously disappeared from the party several minutes later.

"I didn't see that coming," Hermione commented as they scanned the room for the duo. She'd mentioned a few minutes earlier that she was tired, but he'd wanted to stick around for about ten minutes longer. They were both glad and regretful at their decision.

Well, Blaise never was a saint.

Draco snorted (What? He was slightly drunk… the champagne was divine) and muttered, "Honestly? It's Blaise, Granger, what did you expect?"

Hermione shot him an amused look, "I'm a Malfoy now,"

"I'm still going to call you Granger, Granger," Draco stuck his tongue out, and Hermione scooped some frosting off the leftover cake to smear across his nose.

Draco chuckled and linked their hands together beneath the table.

The following day they got Blaise to perform the binding spells necessary to make them wedded by wizarding standards. The whole time Draco teased his friend about foxy Clara and Blaise almost didn't finish the task at hand.

Fortunately, Hermione won him over with her charm and bribes of galleons.

They escaped to the Bahamas for a week of blessed peace, leaving Orion with Madam Quincie, who was happy to look after him. When they came back, they fell into the same old routine, except for that they had rings on their fingers and Hermione was now a Malfoy.

It was an odd thought. But at the same time, it was the most natural thing in the world.

One evening, when Orion was already in bed and Hermione was enthralled in a book, Draco got to thinking.

"Hermione,"

"Hm?" Hermione glanced up from her novel for a moment, eyes shifting back to the words in rapid succession. She was right at the climatic scene, where the main characters were fighting for their lives. It was extremely important that she got through this part of the book, because the main character's plight was coming up, and the plot twist she'd seen coming had just happened.

"Hermione?"

"Whaaaat?" She was irritated now, she just wanted to finish the page.

Draco plucked the book from her lap, closing it. He held it over the edge of the bed, and dropped it on the floor.

"Malfoy!" Old habits were hard to break, "You arse!"

Draco sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Sorry love. I just thought of something, and I'd rather you hear it now than later,"

"Alright,"

"I used to despise our first meeting,"

Hurt flashed in her eyes for a moment, but it was buried by the confusion that furrowed her brow. She crossed her arms, staring at him.

"What do you mean?"

Draco paused, trying to figure how to say what he wanted without sounding rude, "I mean, even when we were dating, I hated how we met. I mean… I should say it bothered me how we met. We just happened to meet in a small, middle-of-nowhere town in the middle of America, for what? What're the chances? You know?"

Hermione gnawed on her bottom lip with her teeth, "You mean… was it a setup of some kind?"

Draco had considered that option, but it didn't make sense. Who would set them up to meet? He didn't have any allies left, besides Blaise. Hermione didn't have any, besides Orion. Of course he wasn't involved with that though. Lucius wouldn't do such a thing, because he would rather attack to kill than let the enemy meet a potential ally to get stronger.

Draco had thought about how Hermione could've known where he was all along, but then again, why? What would she do with such information?

"I don't think so. It's just always confused me, it was always in the back of my mind,"

Hermione pursed her lips, an expression Draco knew to mean that she was thinking. After some time, she turned back to Draco.

"Maybe it was fate. You know? Bringing us together,"

"…fate,"

Hermione nodded.

"Fate?" Draco laughed incredulously, "You believe in fate?"

Hermione glared, "Well, not usually. But it seems like the only answer that makes sense!"

Draco chuckled darkly, turning away, "Alright then. Fate brought us together—"

"Draco, I… I'm going to tell you a story. One I've never told you,"

Draco faced the darkness of the room, studying the shadows created by Hermione's bedside lamp. "Alright," He said dully.

"When I escaped Malfoy Manor, I didn't have a plan in mind. I didn't have any wizard or muggle money. The first place I went was my uncle's house in Berlin,"

Draco could imagine it; Hermione Granger, at a loss of what to do. It was an expression he knew by now, having seen her in several positions where she didn't have a clue. But… it was scarier, imagining her in such a situation. Lost in London without money, food, or shelter. And with Orion no less.

"The Death Eaters had killed him years ago, just after I sent my parents to Australia. But because he was somewhat of a hermit, his house had yet to be completely cleared out. I stayed there for a night, cleaning Orion's wounds and my own… we hadn't had a proper shower or rest since we got to the Manor a-and…"

Draco heard the tremble in Hermione's voice, but he couldn't force himself to roll over. He didn't want to see her tears.

"Did you know that the first thing I ate was a chocolate bar? It was old, slightly dry, but I'll never forget it, I never will, because it, oh God this sounds stupid, it tasted like freedom…

"A-and the next morning we took some money and I created a portkey. When I got to Washington D.C., I had no idea what I was doing. Americans are so loud. I got the euros transferred to dollars and went to goodwill, where I bought plenty of clothes and various other trinkets. In the front, there were brochures, for different things to do, you know? In the front there were all the basic 'Welcome to Washington, please visit our monuments dedicated to our dead leaders' brochures, but I wasn't interested in those. On the back rack there were some that advertised for museums all across America, and I saw one for the museum a couple miles from here, you know, the one in that big town, and I thought why not go there, it's in the middle of nowhere and I so I—"

Draco shifted so he was looking up at his wife, and he was furious to find tear tracks on her cheeks. She shouldn't have to cry, she shouldn't have had to experience such a traumatic event. Being in a country she knew little about, all alone with her son…

"Hermione," He whispered, "I understand,"

Slowly, he reached up to rub the tears off her cheeks with his thumb.

"I love you," Draco said, pulling her down for a soft kiss.

"Love you too,"

They lay in silence for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Draco broke the quiet.

"The first place you wanted to go to was a museum?"

Hermione smacked his chest, "Hey! Museums are very interesting, I'll have you know!"

"Sure,"

…

"Ow!"

"Git,"

X

Ten Years Later

"When is Ronnie coming home?"

Hermione sighed, stirring the pot on the stove with the spoon. She'd felt the tugging on her pants for the past half bloody hour, but it was the first time she'd heard her seven year old son speak.

"Leo,"

The young boy peered up at her with curious grey eyes.

"Mommy,"

It'd annoyed Draco to no end when Leo started saying 'Mommy' instead of the traditional 'Mummy'. Hermione had laughed, saying it was all the American influence. That had pissed her husband off more so, and he hadn't spoken to her for an entire weekend.

Leo squinted, and Hermione copied the motion. The two were always doing silly things of the like, and Draco would complain that both his sons had been turned into momma's boys. Hermione had kindly pointed out that Arya had Draco completely wrapped around her four-year old finger, and Draco had rolled his eyes. A week later, he'd completed the dollhouse she'd requested, along with custom dolls and expensive furniture he'd ordered off the internet.

"Honestly, muggles create the best technology!" He'd said when they first bought the computer. It'd taken him a while to figure out the internet, but it paid off (but not really) because now Draco could order whatever he wanted with the click of a button.

It was a bit ridiculous.

"Mommy, I'm boooooored," Leo complained, tugging on her leg. Hermione nearly lost her footing, but caught herself on the counter in time.

"Leo, please. Go play with your trucks, I'm busy,"

Leo pouted, "B-but… But I miss Ronnie!"

Hermione set the spoon down, crouching so she was eye-to-eye with her son, "Your father went to pick Ronnie up a few hours ago, and he should be home any minute. I cannot make time go faster, so you'll have to wait patiently. Go play with your toys and let mommy cook?"

Leo considered it, screwing his face up in concentration. Finally, he nodded. Hermione smiled, running a hand through his light hair.

"Great," She stood, facing the mess of pots on the stove, "Just like your father, honestly,"

Leo wasn't listening. He was surprisingly like Draco; practically a carbon copy. The only difference was he despised green. It was funny really, hearing him say it over and over.

"I hate green, I hate green, I hate green!"

"Leo, you hate green! What's wrong with it?"

"It's ugly!"

"No it's not! Why, green is one of the prettiest colors in the entire world—"

"No it's NOT!"

Hermione chuckled at the memory, temporarily distracted by the pot boiling over.

"Shit!" She cursed, temporarily forgetting that her son was still in the kitchen. She rushed to find a towel, or a hot mat, or something-

"Shit!"

Oh no.

Leo was sitting at the table now, smirking at his mother from across the room. Hermione, who'd located some paper towels and mopped up the piping hot water, felt her relieved expression drop in horror.

"No, Leo, buddy, we don't say that word—"

"But you just did!"

Smart ass.

"I—yes, but—"

"Shit!" Leo said loudly. He leapt from the chair, parading about the kitchen with his chest stuck out, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiiiii—"

Arya, who'd been napping calmly in the living room, began to scream.

Hermione sighed dejectedly, turning the burner off. She walked into the living room, where Arya was tossing about on the couch.

"Mooooommy…" She cried, tears leaking out of her eyes. Hermione picked her up, rocking her gently to sooth her. She could hear Leo in the kitchen screaming expletives, and that alone was enough to make Hermione want to cry.

She wiped away her daughter's tears, placing her in the well-used high chair in the kitchen. She checked the pots, aware that Leo had stopped being vulgar and was whispering to his sister instead.

For a moment, there was peace.

Then the front door opened.

Draco stepped into the house, calling in a booming voice, "We have brought the prisoner home!"

"Daaaad,"

"Ronnie!" Hermione tackled her son, who she'd just seen over the winter holiday, pressing his head against her chest.

Orion attended the Salem Witch Institute, which was not just for witches. Draco liked to tease him about it, but Orion had gotten rather good at shaking his father off on such matters. He was not as successful, however, at shaking his mother off of him.

"Mff," He grunted against her chest.

Hermione pulled back, taking in the changes that her son had gone through before his summer hols. His skin was tanner, probably from Quidditch. His hair was longer too, which she'd have to fix. It was almost to his shoulders. He was also taller, although a casual observer wouldn't notice.

"What was that, dear?"

"I said, 'Mom, can you let me breathe?'"

Orion spoke in American English with an American accent, although his words had a slight English lilt to them. Hermione called it the 'environment effect'; children copied whomever they grew up around. Orion, having been born in England but growing up in America, with many American parent figures (besides his actual parents, who were, of course, from the UK), had a unique way of speaking. It also meant that he was quite good at doing an English accent.

Not surprising, really.

Hermione smoothed out his shirt, nodding, "Of course, dear. So glad you're home,"

Draco smirked at her.

"You too," She added, leaning over her son to kiss her husband. She heard him groan loudly.

"Not while I'm in the room, please!"

Draco laughed, "Just think about it, son, what we get up to when you're not in the room,"

Hermione scowled, shaking her head at him. After all these years, and he couldn't even act like a proper adult. Orion moaned like he was in pain and ran hurriedly from the front hall.

And proceeded to run right back in.

"Mum, the pot's boiling over!"

After the pot situation was taken care of (again… seriously, hadn't she turned off the burner?) and their dinner was cooked, Hermione settled down at the table. She was ready to dig into her slightly overcooked chicken when Leo began to giggle like a… well, like a seven year old.

Orion, who had been studying the new painting they'd hung on the wall over top his glasses, gave his brother a look. "What's your deal, Leo?"

Leo, who was consumed by his laughter, shook his head. He managed to choke out several garbled phrases, which nobody could understand. Finally he reigned it in, and said (barely holding back his glee):

"I learnt a new word today,"

No.

"Oh?" Orion seemed genuinely curious as he pushed his glasses up his nose, "What would that be?"

Hermione had to intervene.

"Um, Draco, how was your day, was it good—"

Draco wasn't paying attention.

Leo was giggling again.

"It… It… It was… Say it Arya,"

Arya, who'd been staring at her plate in disdain, looked up at the mention of her name.

"What?"

"So how about the weather, hm? Rather nice, no tornados—"

"T-The word, s-say it," Leo was about to burst apart from contained glee.

"What about… let's see… baseball! Yes! Orion, I know you don't much care for the sport but—"

"Shit!" Arya squealed, which sent Leo into peals of laughter.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Draco met Hermione's eyes across the table, mouth open in horror. Leo was bent over, laughing like Hermione had never seen before. Arya had stuck her hands in her plate, squishing the chicken that remained. Draco was at a loss for words. Hermione, who was trying to reign in her horribly misbehaved children in (they didn't usually act like this, it must've been the immense joy from seeing Orion after months and months), stopped when she heard a soft chuckle.

Orion was laughing, staring at his younger brother. Leo could barely breathe, but he seemed to be slowing down.

"What's so funny, Ronnie?" Draco asked from across the table. Orion smiled, shaking his head.

"Nothing," He said softly, looking from his mother to his father and back to his younger sister and brother.

"Oh?" Hermione took her seat again, relieved to see Leo grinning and Arya cleaning her hands on her napkin. Draco was staring at his son with rapt attention, his eyes gleaming with interest. Hermione knew that Arya wasn't the only one who had her father wrapped around her finger; they all did.

"Yeah," Orion replied, smiling for the first time since arriving, "I'm just happy to be home,"

The End

xXx

A/N- Done! Whew, that took forever, didn't it? I wanted to get this updated yesterday, because it was the one-year anniversary of this story, but I didn't have time. I hope everyone had a happy holiday, and welcome to 2014!

As of right now, this story is complete. I might write a sequel (I already have a few ideas in mind, and if I do end up writing one I'll post a message on here). I don't know. Honestly, I am extremely proud of this story. It's the first story I've completed that I'm happy with (besides basic things, like spelling errors and such). I know I haven't been the best updater, but my life has been crazy busy. I'm glad that I managed to get this done in one year (and a day) to be honest. (Not the case with Into the Past. Sorry to anyone who still cares about that story- still not sure what I want to do with it).

Thank you to all of you who favorited, followed and reviewed this story. Honestly, when I read the beginning of this story it makes me cringe a little bit (my writing back then. It's just awkward to read.) I don't know how much it's changed, but I know I've developed, partially through this story and it's a great feeling.

Blah blah blah, ignore my sentimental crap. I hope all of you have enjoyed this story, and keep your eye out for a sequel in the future (I'm starting to like the idea more and more).