Note: This is it. I cannot believe it. After 14 years, it's come to an end. I've grown up with this story. I started it when I was 14 and now I'm 28. They aged with me. The end of an era. Who writes a romance where the two main characters only tell each other they love each other like twice in 75 chapters? I guess I do. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story and been patient with me. Please let me know if I did it justice.


Better Be Slytherin
LXXV
Forever Slytherin


Draco had told Pansy about the breakout that night when he got home, and he had bought her a de-stress bracelet passing through Diagon Alley on his way home, although she suspected he would actually need it more than her.

She was studying him now - his hair had the same colour as the sand on their honeymoon beach, white and sun kissed, but his skin was pale and greyish like the newly escaped prisoners.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Draco mumbled, his face hidden behind his hands. Pansy swallowed thickly.

"I don't think we should get your parents involved," she said. "We should lay low."

"As if my father can do anything anyway," said Draco bitterly and he looked up at her. "It's his bloody fault we're in this in the first place."

"Listen," said Pansy. "You're fairly high up in the Ministry. We do have the Ministry on our side after all."

Draco scoffed. "Because the last time the Ministry fought off the Death Eaters so well, did they?"

"True, but..."

"Maybe I'll go back to Potter and ask for more help."

"We don't need more help from precious Potter," said Pansy coolly and rolled her eyes. "We're fine!"

"Stop acting like you're still at Hogwarts!"

"As if I'm the only one still like that! You know how Granger treats me whenever we run into them."

"That's because you're not nice to them," said Draco curtly. "They're all fine with me, aren't they?"

"You're up their arses," she said and rolled her eyes.

"Watch it."

"Potter is a reckless attention seeker, always has been," snorted Pansy.

"You've got to get over yourself, Pans. He saved us."

Pansy dismissed him with a short wave of her hand and looked away. Draco sighed and started putting on his travelling cloak.

"Oi, where are you off to?" asked Pansy worriedly.

"I'm off to my parents to complain about my rude wife," teased Draco.

"Stop taking the piss. You're not actually going to see your father about this?"

"I have to talk to him."

"Draco, just..." Pansy began, fiddling with his cloak, "Wait until the morning. Please. And remember, you're not your father. Malfoy is just your name, not your personality."


He finally had everything, so the thought of it being taken from him was the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced, potentially worse yet than the war itself. But Draco knew he'd do anything to protect his family, just like his mother had during the final battle.

Faces and names he'd thought for almost two decades he'd never have to see or hear again were almost obnoxiously glaring at him from the Prophet's large front page. Numerous Death Eater's he'd never learnt the names of, but also many who suddenly felt far too familiar again. Avery, Jugson, Travers, Rowle, Mulciber, the Lestrange brothers, Selwyn, Dolohov... Most painful yet, were the Carrow siblings. Their expressions in their mugshots from when they'd been captured at the battle of Hogwarts were both indifferent, as though they had not fully comprehended what had happened when they had been taken. He was sure, however, that the long years in Azkaban had reminded them and solidified their hatred for Draco and the others, and the sense of vengeance had been nurtured while in there. He thought of his old friends from school – Miles, Adrian, Caecus and Graham, did they side with the other Death Eaters? Did they know Draco's children were being targeted? They'd been friends once, until he'd thrown them in prison. But that was two decades ago, yet he still regretted throwing them under the Knightbus. Surely, they wouldn't be involved in this.

Being in his parents' wing of the manor and seeing his parents this fallen from grace made him want to put even more distance between himself and his old views. He knew his parents' old friends were all in Azkaban or dead by now, which was why Lucius and Narcissa had kept a very low profile ever since Lucius got out of Azkaban. They only lived for their grandchildren. Nott Sr was dead, Mrs Zabini was very strange. To be fair, they did have the Parkinsons who they had finally buried the hatchet with as well as the Greengrasses and the Wilkes, but this was a mere superficial acquaintanceship.

"Ah, my son," said Lucius as Draco appeared in the doorway of his upstairs study.

"Father," he said shortly, and immediately entered and walked up to the desk to grab himself a glass of Firewhiskey from the crystal container.

"Stressed, are we?" said Lucius, studying him curiously.

"Of course I'm bloody stressed," Draco got out through gritted teeth, and then downed his glass in one. "I'm panicking."

"You are talking about the news of the breakout."

"Of course I am," Draco snarled, "what else would I be talking about?"

"I do not quite see why you are so emotional about it," said Lucius shortly. "The Ministry will catch them."

"You're seriously not worried?" Draco said, narrowing his eyes and looking at his father. "You know they're out to get you too!"

Lucius looked away without a word.

"Of course I'm bloody worried!" Draco exclaimed. "They're coming after me and my family! And once again it's all your fault!"

"Oh Draco, don't be a child."

Draco gaped at him. "I'm in danger! My children are in danger. And it's all because of you!"

Lucius fixed him with a cold look.

"There's nothing to worry about. The Ministry are hunting down the Death Eaters. The Malfoy name has been restored to its former glory. Nobody remembers that you tried to kill Dumbledore. You're respected and accepted in society."

"Snape killed Dumbledore," said Draco, his jaw clenched.

"On Dumbledore's orders," snarled Lucius. His eyes were malevolent - Draco knew he had taken Snape's double agency very personally. They had after all been good enough friends for Lucius to have made Snape Draco's godfather, and he viewed him as a traitor ever since. Draco in turn viewed his own father as more of a traitor. Lucius was the reason Draco still saw the faces of those he'd tortured in his nightmares.

"I daresay I'm not worried," said Lucius with a snort, "I have less to lose. If they kill me, then so be it. It seems evident that I am universally despised, after all. Plus, the manor is safe."

Draco looked away, and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"Why did you come here Draco?"

"For your help, father. You were the one who put me in this position in the first place. And now I'm number one on all your old pals' to-do-lists."

Lucius studied him silently for a while. Then he said, "Forgive me, my son." His grey cold eyes were burning into Draco's, they looked watery and tired.

Draco looked away. They'd had versions of this conversations on a handful of occasions over the years but it never seemed to resolve anything.


"I thought you wouldn't make it," said Draco, unable to hide the urgency in his tone.

"Malfoy," nodded Potter and shook his hand, then he turned to Pansy and said... "Er... Parkinson."

"It's Malfoy actually," Pansy said coldly, her nostrils flaring. Draco couldn't help but to feel slightly amused, however, it subsided quickly.

"There's, erm," Potter began. "There's more bad news."

Draco and Pansy both gaped at him in horror, what could be worse than this?

"Someone's killing off Death Eater's relatives," said Potter. "Some nutcase from our side, supposedly. We think they're also after you."

"So both sides are after me?" exclaimed Draco, panic rising again.

"Pansy," said Potter, "you and the children mustn't leave the manor. Make sure Lucius and Narcissa stay there too. Scorpius is safe at Hogwarts."

Pansy nodded, clutching her husband's hand.

"What about me?" said Draco slowly.

"Well," said Harry, "we're gathering the old Order again. I was thinking you could help."

Draco didn't hesitate. "I'll help," he said, determined. "I guess I bloody owe it to the Wizarding world to help put an end to this once and for all."

Harry gave a smile that was almost a smirk. "Good, Malfoy," he said. "You can trick them Slytherin style."


Harry walked through the dark, twisting streets of Knockturn Alley, his wand clutched tightly in his hand on high alert. And as if on cue, as he turned a corner, he saw a group of shadowy figures emerging from the darkness. Something about their dark cloaks and hoods that disguised their faces made Harry's heart start racing, it brought him back two decades. He raised his wand, ready to defend himself.

"Well, well, well," said a voice from within the group. "Look what we have here. The Boy Who Won't Die, all alone in Knockturn Alley."

Harry recognised that voice. It belonged to Antonin Dolohov, one of Voldemort's most ruthless Death Eaters. Harry had faced him before.

"Give it up, Potter," said Dolohov, stepping forward. "You can't defeat us, you twat. Just hand over your wand and come with us peacefully."

Harry almost smiled. This was going according to plan. "As if I'd go anywhere with you, Dolohov. I'm certainly not going to hand over my wand."

Dolohov let out a cold laugh. "You always were stubborn, Potter. But you'll regret your decision. We have some unfinished business to settle with you, you might remember what you did to our Lord…"

"That was over twenty years ago," said Harry coldly, "How are you not over it yet?"

"The disrespect—" one of them said to the other as they stepped forwards, their wands at the ready. But just as they were about to strike, there was a huge flash of light. They stumbled back, blinded by the sudden burst of magic.

Draco along with Ron, Hermione, George Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley with her parents, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall and Aberforth Dumbledore, as well as a handful of Aurors Draco didn't know by name, all emerged from the shadows with their wands raised high.

"Oh, the whole bloody gang," said a new, disdainful voice. "And look who it is, boys. Draco Malfoy." It sent a shiver down Draco's spine. It was Yaxley.

"Come to save precious Potter?" said Dolohov.

"I guess that makes us even," Draco muttered to Harry who gave a discreet smile. By now the sides of the street was filling up with more Aurors, who had been patrolling the area ready to strike. The group of Death Eaters suddenly seemed less intimidating. To think he'd ever been a part of this group was insane.

"There's no one I'd rather kill than you," said Yaxley," pointing his wand at Draco. "Well," he said with a vicious smile. "Maybe your old man."

"Give it your best shot," said Draco, fury rising within him but fighting to keep it under control. "You're outnumbered." For once, he was on the right side, without a doubt. He knew the Death Eaters had come for him and Potter. Targets acquired. He also knew they'd be relentless in their pursuit of him but he had no idea what they had in store for him.

"You're a coward, Malfoy," said Avery with a sneer. "You always were."

Draco felt his face heat up and his pulse and mind was racing. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, as he did now. But he felt a sudden surge of determination.

"If I was a coward I wouldn't be stood here, on their side," Draco spat, "denouncing everything Voldemort stood for."

"How dare—"

"You scumbags are all responsible for the deaths of so many innocent people."

"You'll regret this," Dolohov snarled, raising his wand to strike.

"The only thing I regret is ever being on your side," said Draco.

"You disloyal son of a—"

Draco didn't hesitate, and he unleashed a stunning spell powered by his sudden bravery and fury that sent Dolohov hurtling backwards. The other Death Eaters quickly regained their composure and began to retaliate, but they were ready for them. They dodged their spells and returned fire, their wand movements precise and controlled. The battle raged on, the courtyard echoing with the sound of spells and curses. He had too much to lose, too much to fight for.

"Cruc-"

"Stupefy!"

Potter and Weasley finally took down Yaxley with a combined stunning spell. The Death Eaters hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed without their fallen leader, and as they realised they were outnumbered, the Aurors hastily managed to outmanoeuvre them and capture them. One by one, they were taken away by Aurors.

"Are you all right, Mr Malfoy?" one of the Aurors asked, helping him to his feet.

Draco nodded, the shock of the confrontation finally hitting him. "Thank you," he said, breathless and shaken.

The Auror nodded, and Draco imagined he saw less distrust in his eyes. Had he atoned enough, finally? Could he finally leave the past in the past?

He didn't fully believe it until Potter smiled widely and said, "The Death Eaters have been caught."

Draco felt a wave of relief wash over him and he let out a sigh of relief – they were safe. For so long, he had been haunted by his past mistakes and the animosity between him and Potter. But now, it seemed that they could finally properly move past it. They were finally on the same side. On his way home to tell Pansy the good news, he couldn't help but to be amazed at how much had changed. It was quite far from their days as arch enemies at Hogwarts.


Two years later


Pansy was listening to the Witching Hour with Glenda Chittock on the WWN but quickly turned it off with her wand when Draco and the kids came home from the Magical Museum, her husband looking very sour. Scorpius and Serafina were arguing amongst themselves, and Cordelia and Proteus were both crying from exhaustion.

"I need a drink," said Draco and shrugged off his travelling cloak into the arms of the awaiting House-Elf Tessy.

"Daddy!" said Serafina, "Scorp says I'm not a real Malfoy!"

"That's not what I said," exclaimed Scorpius and rolled his eyes. "I said I'm the real heir, which I am. Right mum?"

Pansy ignored him and kissed her husband. "How was it?"

"I'm the heir, you're just the spare," said Scorpius, making a rude hand gesture at Serafina who pouted.

"Exhausting," said Draco. Pansy chortled.

"I meant the museum! They've got a new exhibit on that I really want to see."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's all letters between people during the war, it's meant to be really moving."

"Sounds depressing," muttered Draco.

Pansy ignored him. "I'll owl your mother to ask her if she would like to have the kids Friday evening."

"Why?" said Draco as he poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey from the golden drinks trolley.

"I've got dinner with the girls and their mothers."

"Oh lovely," said Draco, "I'll have the house to myself then."

"Looks like you need a night off," she smirked.

"I might have the lads over."

"In that case, I want to have the girls over soon."

"Anything you want, my love."

Scorpius and Serafina had kept arguing and somehow pulled Cordelia into it too, and they had all barged upstairs. Only Proteus remained, the calm and quiet boy. Pansy turned to him and kissed the top of his head. "Thank Merlin for you, my little angel boy. Don't ever become like your naughty siblings. Mummy loves you the most." He giggled loudly and reached his arms out for her to pick him up.

"Tessy, will you bring me a cup of tea please?" she asked the House-Elf. "I'm going to go give him a bath," she said and kissed her husband before exiting the room and following her children upstairs.

Pansy only worked leisurely these days, she had her column (her current article was about Mrs Zabini's ninth wedding), and she was always working on different projects like party planning, redoing the garden or going antiquing with the House-Elves. She didn't have a full-time job like Draco, and many of their friends. Despite this, she was always tired. Having four kids wore her down.

She looked out the window from Proteus' bathroom, sipping her cup of tea. She could see the large fountain in the gravelled path in front of Malfoy manor with its statue of a marble and gold peacock. Somehow Pansy had managed to keep Narcissa's rose bushes alive with the help of the House-Elves, now that Narcissa wasn't well enough to look after them herself anymore. She could see Serafina teaching Cordelia how to do cartwheels on the beautiful lawn outside the manor.

She was proud of Draco's big job at the Ministry, he was the Head of Magical Sports and Games after a long career as a professional Quidditch player and sports journalist. He donated monthly to St Mungo's for dragon pox cure research. After his grandfather Abraxas died of it in his childhood, and also because he could never take his standing in society for granted anymore. Pansy didn't have the same insecurity.

He tried, all his waken time, to be a better person than he had been. Pansy thought he should give himself a break sometime. It had been so long. She knew that right after the war, Draco hadn't seen the point of being alive after everything he had done. He hadn't wanted to live with the guilt. She knew he didn't feel that way anymore, but some things left traces she supposed. He'd always be more grateful for their life than she was. She'd always known she'd have this life; he hadn't thought he'd be able to have a life at all.

She smiled at Proteus playing with a toy dragon in the bath. The next morning, her angel boy wasn't as much of an angel however. He had already doodled on the old portrait of Allegria Malfoy before she was even awake, and to her horror when she entered the dining room he was making Tessy serve him breakfast while hopping and croaking like a toad for his own amusement, while Draco was hidden behind The Daily Prophet's sports section.

"Proteus please," she said, embarrassed. "Tessy is a House-Elf, not a toad. Let her get on with her job in peace. And Draco, don't let your son treat the House-Elf that way."

"What?" said Draco distractedly, from behind his paper. Pansy rolled her eyes at him.

"It's inappropriate!"

"Listen to your mother, Proteus," said Draco. Pansy sighed and gave Tessy an apologetic look. Proteus was watching Tessy spread jam on his toast while Pansy started nibbling on a croissant.

"Well," said Draco, getting up. "I'll just Apparate over to Diagon Alley to get my dress robes from the goblins, have a quick lunch with mother and father and then I'll be home again."

"No you won't," sighed Pansy, "Have you no idea what day it is?"

"Er… Monday," said Draco, one eyebrow raised.

"It's the first of September you ponce!"

"Oh, right. Guess I'll get my robes tomorrow then. And I'll cancel lunch."

"Yes, that might be wise, unless you want to miss sending your children off to boarding school and mind you, you won't see them for three months."

"Bloody hell, calm down, I forgot for one second."


"Weasley and Potter must be so happy the Ministry still covers the school and boarding fees for Hogwarts," sniggered Pansy walking down platform nine and three quarters, glancing at the two men with their families some distance away. "Those two could fill a whole class with their bespeckled, bushy-haired, freckled ginger offsprings."

Draco glanced over too – the golden trio and Ginny Potter were all saying goodbye to their children.

"Easy," Draco muttered.

"It's just banter," snapped Pansy, and turned to her eldest daughter. "Now, you behave yourself and look after your little sister."

"Why should I look after her?" whinged Serafina, "There's House-Elves for that, and teachers."

"The House-Elves at Hogwarts don't look after the kids," Pansy snapped. This year they were to wave goodbye to not only Scorpius, but Serafina and Cordelia too, as Hogwarts had expanded to take children from the age of six – they had been inspired by the Muggles whose school age apparently started at that age. "We mustn't be any worse," the Minister had said. "Education is important, especially to prevent prejudice and war."

"Neither do the teachers, really," said Draco, suddenly realising how much freedom they'd actually had while at Hogwarts. Hadn't they always been running around the corridors long past curfew after all?

"I'll be in Slytherin like Scorp, it's safe there," muttered Serafina.

"No one is safe in Slytherin," Draco joked, "Not even the Slytherins."

"Whatever," said Serafina, straining to look past her father's shoulder to find her peers. "School will be a piece of cauldron cake."

She gave them both a quick, nonchalant hug and sauntered off to meet her friends, her trunk in tow.

"What's her problem?" Draco asked his wife, looking after his eldest daughter in confusion.

"Bad day?" Pansy suggested, hoisting Proteus up in her arms.

"She's being very impolite," said Draco.

"She's being very Serafina," Pansy said simply.

Their other daughter on the other hand, was being very dramatic. "Mummy, I d-don't w-want to go," Cordelia was sobbing, clinging onto Pansy's travelling cloak. Draco picked her up, swung her around, and gave her a kiss. Pansy couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was embracing her for a long time and whispering words of comfort. Eventually, somehow, Cordelia was on the train, holding her sister's hand and waving out the window, a brave smile on her face.

Pansy briefly wondered if letting the girls go at such a young age was the right choice after all. Scorpius however, self-assured as ever, gave them both a quick hug, and adopted the typical Malfoy swagger as he followed his sisters onto the train.

"I do worry for them," said Draco, looking after the train as it started moving.

"It's not like when we went there, the security's much better now," said Pansy. "Scorpius has been fine, hasn't he? He'll be there to watch over both of them. They don't let the kids run around freely like they did us."

Whilst Pansy found the thought of being so far apart from her girls who were only 8 and 6 very hard, she begrudgingly agreed, and that evening she actually found it to be quite a relief to only have one child left in the house.

"The kids are gone!" They both exclaimed in unison, laughing and cheering, clinking their champagne glasses together.

"Now we can go out to dinner for our anniversary, just the two of us!" Pansy said excitedly.

When they finally made it to the restaurant after Pansy had eventually decided what to wear (she had insisted she didn't have anything to wear, and he had reminded her that she had more clothes than most of Diagon Alley put together), he was starving after drinking on an empty stomach.

Pansy had chosen (because Draco was rarely allowed to choose) Hotel du Jacques for their anniversary dinner, it was one of the oldest and largest Wizarding restaurants in London, located in Green Park not far from Buckingham Palace and you had to toss a Knut into a large fountain there, and an underground tunnel appeared in the middle of it.

"Impressive," said Draco, raising his eyebrows slightly.

The hostess stand seemed to be made of solid gold. The dark leather interior and dim lighting made it hard to see anything, but it was the sort of place that was very popular in Wizarding London, filled to the brim with socialites, Ministry people and their hangers-on.

"To eighteen years married, baby," she squealed, clinking her glass of Elf-Made wine violently with his, her eyes squinting.

He smirked casually, noting how tipsy she was already. "Yes, my love," he said.

"Eighteen amazing years," she added and sent him a flirty smile.

"No idea how we've done it by the way," he said with a chuckle.

"You always make me laugh," she said smiling. "You have since we were kids. Even when we were the only people laughing. Maybe especially then."

"Merlin," he sighed, "We've always been dickheads, haven't we?"

She laughed. "Well, you also always get me flowers."

"Every week without fail," he drawled.

"If I ever didn't receive them, I'd be worried," she said, half joking.

"To be fair, Tessy gets you the flowers, I just pay for them."

"Oi!"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Pansy smirked. "I'm not wearing any."

Draco choked on the wine he was drinking and had to cough several times.

"We were always the couple at Hogwarts that turned heads weren't we," smirked Pansy, sipping her wine.

He mirrored her expression. Proud. "Indeed. Ever since the Yule Ball. They knew not to mess with us."

They both laughed, and proceeded to get way too drunk because it was the first time they'd been away from the kids and responsibilities in so long.

When they got home and made sure Proteus was asleep upstairs, they snuggled up on the sofa together. A fire was going – that and a paraffin lamp were the only sources of light in the room. The flames danced in Pansy's eyes. Draco trailed his fingers in between hers and brought her hand up to his to kiss it. It reminded her of something he'd done when they were teenagers.

"Who ever thought we'd end up here, eh?"

"Here, as in Malfoy Manor?" she said absentmindedly.

"No," he said slowly. She turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just happy," he said and gave a small smile.

"You're such a Gryffindor," she sniggered and snuggled up closer to him. Maybe he was. But he considered himself very lucky for having gained everything he could possibly need. It was things he'd never expected, never even imagined, for himself.

Sure, he'd never gallivanted around and partied and shagged a bunch of girls like Zabini. He'd been too preoccupied in his late teens to even think about it. And in his twenties he supposed he'd already fallen too hard for Pansy. Yet, he didn't envy Blaise in the slightest.


Draco had thought it hilarious to dress up as a vampire for their Halloween party, but Proteus had burst into tears when he saw him. He'd only painted his face even paler than it normally was, added some fangs and fake blood and dressed up in one of his old travelling cloaks, but obviously this was terrifying for his youngest son.

"M-mummy," he sobbed, pointing at his father. "Scary vampire!"

"My sweet boy," she said, and she couldn't help but to think he was being a bit over dramatic. "That's daddy. Look!" and she motioned for Draco to come over and he gave her a hug. Proteus looked deeply hesitant.

"It's me!" Draco said and picked him up. But when Draco tried to give him a kiss on the cheek, he recoiled.

"Not dangerous," Pansy said. Proteus still didn't look convinced.

"Oh but, look at uncle Greg," said Pansy, and pointed to Goyle who was dressed as a pumpkin. That, he found hilarious. Proteus lit up at once. "Go say hi!"

They watched him run to Goyle and feel around his costume for proof that he wasn't actually as big and round as a giant pumpkin to protests and laughs from Goyle. Proteus was still laughing at Goyle's costume an hour later.

"All right, my sweet boy," Pansy said, scooping him up. "That's enough partying for you, time for bed."


Celestina Warbeck's "All I Want for Christmas is a Niffler" was playing loudly on the wireless, as Draco, Pansy, Daphne and Ben were sipping eggnog by the fireplace, and the children were making a gingerbread house on the coffee table. "I want a unicorn for Christmas," Pansy hummed along with the lyrics.

"Let's make it into a castle!" Cordelia said excitedly.

"What, like school?" quipped Nova.

"No, like a fairytale castle!" said Cordelia, her eyes shining bright.

"And let's make it pink!" added Serafina.

"Merlin no," Scorpius groaned, "This is my castle too!"

"You're outnumbered," said Estella. "There's four against one."

Scorpius sighed. "I wish Proteus was older so it wasn't always me and all the girls…"

"This bloody tower won't stick!" said Nova, trying to edge two pieces of gingerbread together using melted sugar.

"And I suppose that's my fault too?" Scorpius said, rolling his eyes.

Draco, looking over at the two, was briefly reminded of himself and Pansy when they made the Potter Stinks badges in fourth year.

"It's lovely." Nova's eyes were glistening happily, half an hour later when they were finished. "I'd definitely live in it," she said.

He could barely make out Scorpius' reply but he could see the flirtatious look on his face. "I'd live in it with you."

Draco couldn't help but to smile. It reminded him even more of himself and his wife.

"Mummy look!" said Serafina and Cordelia in unison, and they pointed towards the gingerbread castle, that instantly collapsed. Serafina and Cordelia both started crying and yelling, but Scorpius and Nova only smiled at each other.

"Guess we can eat it now?" Scorpius said.

"Fine," Nova said, grinning at him.

The four girls went to fight over the pink parts of the gingerbread castle while Scorpius grabbed the tower for himself, and Draco stroked Pansy's lower back to get her attention. She turned to him.

"Happy Christmas, baby," he said with a dazzling smirk. It made her smile.

"Happy Christmas my love," she whispered back. He loved their life.


Christmas had always been big in the Malfoy household, ever since Draco was a child. A twelve-foot tree had always stood in the middle of the entrance hall of the manor every Christmas he could remember, except for the dark years. This year it was back as usual, adorned with lights and a few tasteful baubles. Mistletoe was present in every doorway. Since they had taken over the manor, Christmas tended to fall on them. Before that, they had alternated Christmases between Pansy's parents Essex residence, and the manor with Lucius, Narcissa, Andromeda and Teddy.

Closeness with the family was important, and with friends too. Pansy could see both Tracey and Queenie's smaller houses far, far in the distance if she was on the second floor of the manor. Queenie and Tracey who had never been particularly close during school were now neighbours.

Pansy's children played so often with Daphne's twin girls and Astoria's sons that they were all practically cousins, and thus were all invited for Christmas, along with Lucius and Narcissa, Perpetua and Graham and Andromeda and Teddy.

"Pansy-cakes," Perpetua Parkinson exclaimed, and haughtily kissed Pansy on both cheeks. "My darling girl, goodness gracious this house is loud!"

Pansy kissed her father on the cheek and then sent the children upstairs to play Wizard's chess.

"Sir," Draco said, holding out his hand for Graham Parkinson, who shook it a lot more warmly than he used to. He'd always been stern, hard to win over and rarely affectionate, but he'd never been cruel, and he had accepted Draco more and more over the years. He'd probably been a lot better of a father than Lucius had been.

"How are things?" Mrs Parkinson offered loudly.

"Stressful. My favourite House-Elf is having a baby," said Pansy, "So we're using her sister at the moment. Of course, she doesn't know all my favourite recipes by heart, nor how I like the bed made."

"Nonsense, Pansy," said Perpetua, "You must be the one to teach them how you like it. That's part of being the lady of the house, after all…"

The two carried on into the drawing room to say hello to Lucius and Narcissa.

"How was your journey?" Draco asked Mr Parkinson half awkwardly, half politely as they were suddenly left alone.

"Oh, fine, Draco," he replied curtly, "And how are you - I heard about your new lawsuit?"

Draco looked down, "Yeah. Another one. The bloody Prophet won't leave us alone. Well, it's mostly my father they're after. He served in Azkaban, for Merlin's sake! He's paid his dues. I don't know why they can't just leave him alone; they won't stop pestering him."

"I suppose all your solicitors can do is ban the paper from printing his name at all – that should stop the defamation."

"Easier said than done," muttered Draco. "They'll use silly nicknames. The Prophet loves a scapegoat, a target. But my father made mistakes, mistakes he's atoned for."

"Some people never forget," said Mr Parkinson quietly. Draco supposed he was right, but did they all deserve to be punished for the rest of their lives?

Pansy gave him new dragon skin shoes (a thousand galleons a pair) a new more modern Wireless, and a guided tour to a Broomstick exhibition at the Magical Museum, while he had arranged a trip to Paris, jewellery (as if she needed more), and her favourite perfume. The new necklace was her favourite - Pansy was like a Niffler, drawn to anything sparkly.

For New Years, Daphne and Ben had invited them all to go to their holiday cottage in the Lake District together, no children allowed. Draco couldn't come because of work, so he opted to stay home with the kids.

Goyle got so drunk he passed out on the floor and didn't even make it to the bed. The prat.

"Good morning Greg," Pansy sing-songed the next morning, as she pointed her wand to pour milk into her cereal.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, his head in his arms, "stop screaming."

"You look like you're fighting the worst hangover of your life," Pansy observed. "You deserve it too, you were a bloody mess last night."

Millicent smiled and put her arms around him. "You'll be ok," she ensured him.

Pansy couldn't help but to smile at her two friends, glad that they had found each other after so many years. She remembered the first time she'd met Millicent, and she had blurted out, "Why are you so big?" and Millicent in return, had screwed her face up and snarled, "Why are you so short!" which had made Pansy chortle, and so they had become instant friends. Then Millicent had joined the dark side and she'd lost whatever respect she had for her.

"I think you could be rather pretty, Mills," Pansy remembered sniggering scornfully sometime around their fourth year. "If you weren't such a big girl."

"Pansy!" Tracey had protested, while Daphne and Queenie hadn't been able to keep the sneers off their faces.

"Shut the fuck up Pansy!" Millicent had snarled.

"No I'm serious!" Pansy had continued, barely containing her mirth, turning to look at Millicent. She had reached out to inspect her hair. "A couple beauty charms and lose some of the weight and you wouldn't be that bad. Your hair has nice quality after all." Millicent had rolled her eyes and turned away from Pansy, trying to ignore her friend as she picked up her cat, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, looking like she'd never thought of herself as non-pretty before that.

Pansy cringed, ashamed now for those actions, and so many similar ones. But she was genuinely pleased for Millicent and Greg to have found each other.

When she got home later, she was pounced by her three youngest children. "Mummy!" they all exclaimed, trying to drown out the next to get attention first. Only Scorpius, the typical teenager, was still reading his Martin Miggs comic book on the sofa and didn't get up to say hello to her, nor even look up.

"You're back," said Draco when he entered the room, and Serafina, Cordelia and Proteus had finally stopped climbing on her. He looked relieved. "How was it?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, "without your snoring and thrashing around. Somehow I've gotten used to it."

"I do not snore," he said and pointed a stern finger in her face. They kissed.

"How's home been?" she asked.

"Fine, we had hot chocolate and Fizzing Whizzbees and went to bed at nine."

"Wild New Years Eve for you," she laughed. "Oh, I have to tell you. Greg and Mills are totally together," she added.

Draco lit up. "No way?"


When she first met Draco he was a little boy, cute and cruel at the same time. Now he was just handsome and hers. And a lot less cruel.

"You're good at telling those Mudbloods off," was the height of the compliments Draco used to give her in their first couple years of school. She cringed at the memory. Somehow she had become the leader of all the girls just by being a nasty bully, and she'd chucked discriminatory insults at weaker students to make herself bigger. She wasn't proud of it now, but it was all in the past.

Somehow, real friendships had developed out of their toxic group of Slytherin girls though. She remembered in the summer after their first year, Daphne, Tracey, Queenie and Millicent had come over to gossip and read Witch Weekly, and she had shown them her mother's huge walk in wardrobe where they would play dress up many times over the next couple years even though they weren't allowed and Pansy was sure to get an angry telling off after.

"Those bloody Gryffindors," Queenie had said, as Daphne was trying on a gown that was way too big for her. "They won't get a chance to steal the House Cup from us again."

"They're prats," Pansy had laughed.

"I'll never like any of the Gryffindors," Daphne had agreed. "They're reckless idiots."

"Let's make a pact to never be friends with anyone that isn't Slytherin," Pansy had said excitedly.

"The Ravenclaws aren't too bad," Tracey had said, popping a Bertie Bott's into her mouth. "At least they're clever and they keep to themselves, just like us."

"They're boring," Pansy had said disdainfully, with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Bookworms. Just like that nasty Hermione Granger. Beaver face."

"I'm glad we all found each other," Daphne had smiled.

"Of course!" Pansy had said. "We're the best! Better than everyone else."

"Friends forever," said Queenie, smirking slightly.

"Even when we're old and grey," said Tracey.

"Even when we're married to some boys," said Daphne, wrinkling her nose slightly.

"Friends forever," Pansy echoed.

Pansy had never had the biggest ambitions for her own career. All her life she'd wanted to host parties and charity galas at her manor house, raise little blonde Pureblood heirs, and be followed by photographers from Witch Weekly when she went shopping for dress robes in Diagon Alley with her best friends. To live in the spotlight of the high Pureblood society. It had always been everything her and her friends wanted. Except maybe Tracey. Even Millicent had wanted it, albeit in secret.

She wanted a husband that came home with flowers and jewellery, and showered her with love and affection, and she didn't want to do anything in return. And she wanted her husband to shag her on their large bed.

When Draco came home from his weekly friendly game of Quidditch, fresh from a shower, his hair still wet, she smirked and pulled him over her onto the bed and whispered something naughty in his ear that made him raise his eyebrows and match her smirk.

"As you wish," he mumbled.

Pansy had always been wildly possessive of Draco, but now it was a deeper, more content love. Not wanting for anything. Ah, life was good, she thought. She was living her dream.


By Easter, Blaise was back from another business trip and paid a visit to his old friend Nott for a pre drink before the wedding they had to attend that day.

"You're late," he said snidely as Nott finally showed up outside his Hogsmeade building. "I was almost starting to think you weren't coming."

Theodore narrowed his eyes at him as he unlocked the building's main door, "For Merlin's sake Blaise, I was visiting my mother's grave."

Blaise held up his hands and his eyes widened mockingly, "Ooh, forgive me good sir," he said sarcastically. "What's got your wand in a knot?"

"I was visiting my mother's grave," Theodore repeated, this time with one eyebrow raised cynically, as they walked up the stairs. "It's not the happiest of places."

"Then why'd you go?" Blaise frowned as Theodore now unlocked his front door.

"For fuck's sake, Blaise," Nott groaned. "It's just what you do. I haven't got any parents left you know."

"Like Potter," Blaise sniggered. But he was secretly jealous of Theodore's lack of parents. He'd somehow over the last couple decades gone from being obsessed with his mother to silently loathing her. Sort of like Malfoy with his dad, he supposed.

"Are you twelve?"

"Just bantering you," said Blaise. "Nice place." Although strictly speaking this was stretching the truth.

Theodore Nott's flat was small, but it seemed to have everything he needed. Blaise knew his friend hadn't wanted to stay in the countryside cottage after his father had died, and so he had sold it and bought this cramped, dusty, cold flat instead. Still, it was warmer and cosier than any prison cell Theodore could've ended up rotting in. He supposed, in a way he was lucky.

Theodore gestured him to sit on the sofa. Blaise noticed his friend used his old Hogwarts trunk as the coffee table, and Theodore placed two glasses of Firewhiskey on it. Blaise grabbed his.

"Cheers," they both said. Blaise fidgeted with his signet ring as Theo excitedly told him about his Cursebreaking work with the Ministry. Blaise studied him for a second, almost suspiciously. He seemed genuinely happy.

"Any romances?"

"Nah, mate."

Blaise had to suppress a smirk – ah, little Theodore, he still had no clue about birds.

But Theodore had managed to navigate their post-war world better than expected, after all. Was it so that even bloody Theodore Nott, the darkest kid in school, was now happier than him? Even Malfoy with his hubris and delusions of grandeur their whole childhood was happy and carefree and somehow a decent person. Perhaps happiness and peace of mind was not in the cards for Blaise.

Now the best thing in his life was finding new women in new bars every week. Nothing that felt so right could ever be wrong. Right? He thought back to himself, the way he'd been at Hogwarts, as a teenager. The young man with so many grand dreams and goals, so full of life.

"All right, let's get going to this wedding," Theodore said decisively.

Blaise had to resort to a Pepper Up Potion to make it through the night, it instantly energised him, but he knew it would catch up with him later and make him more tired the next day. But at least he'd get through the wedding without the health risks of snorting ground up unicorn horn powder.

When Blaise attended the wedding of Tracey Davis and Anthony Goldstein, after years of being emotionally switched off, he felt something for the first time in a long time. Regret. His stomach went cold, almost as if he'd eaten a whole bag of Ice Mice.

He knew that she was amazing and that he had driven her close to the point of insanity, and that his feelings scared him which was why he'd pulled away, because he was so sodding damaged from his upbringing. Now he was a 42-year-old bachelor still living the same life he always had, with little or no connections, while everyone around him were getting married and having babies and whatever else they did. Where had he gone wrong?

At least he made a shitload of money. This in mind, and trying to cheer himself up, he went to find Theodore and Draco, a tray of Firewhiskey shots in his hands. Now he'd get shitfaced and flirt with other girls in front of Tracey just to mess with her, even though it had been years and she was married now. What else did he know how to do?


Without the cruel corrupted influence of his father, Draco Malfoy, and many other Death Eaters, Theodore's life had begun anew. Over the years he slowly came out of his self-induced seclusion and began rebuilding, or in many cases building for the first time, friendships and relationships. No more was he a remote island in the vast dark sea as he'd always seen himself, he was part of the community now. He supposed, he was at peace.

He wasn't the only one. He was glad to see Tracey get married, and to watch his friends' kids grow up, and everyone excel in their careers. He was glad to see Blaise travel all around the world just like he'd always said he would. He was glad to see Goyle, the old buffoon, find love in Bulstrode. He was glad to see Daphne in a successful relationship after years of pining after Blaise at school, and he was glad to see Queenie start her own fashion line. He remembered how weak-willed Draco had been all throughout their final year of Hogwarts, as if he didn't want to be there at all. He wasn't like that anymore, he was confident now, but not arrogant like he'd been before sixth year. So perhaps the whole ordeal with the Dark Lord had done him good in the end. Done them all good.

He remembered how Pansy used to spew weird quotes like "Slytherins always win" and "Slytherin forever" as if she was some sort of cheerleader. It had all been about keeping the group together. He didn't think Pansy had ever grown to be independent, she was still that girl that refused to walk to breakfast in the Great Hall without her posse, and now she'd made sure to pop out as many Malfoy heirs as she could to ensure she was always surrounded by them. Theodore on the other hand valued his independence and alone time. Yet, he wasn't bitter, he was glad for his friends.

He was pleased with his life now, passionate about his job and he didn't mind his little flat in Hogsmeade, it was quieter than Diagon Alley (he didn't want to be in the centre of town) and it was still loads better than the flat in Knockturn Alley he knew Millicent had grown up in.

He smiled watching Tracey walk down the aisle towards Anthony. Theodore noticed Blaise studying his nails, looking bored.

As the evening wore on he had somehow ended up speaking to Agnes Runcorn. He had of course vaguely known who she was, she'd been a Slytherin Prefect in the year below him, but he'd never interacted with her before. He usually avoided most people and didn't often get involved in other people's lives. The friends he had were still there because of some unspoken longstanding loyalty – the history they shared had carved out a strong bond. But he was willing to try something new for Agnes the night wore on he realised that he kept finding more and more things he liked about her.

"I can't believe I never spoke to you at Hogwarts," Agnes was saying, and sipped her drink while keeping her eyes on his face.

"I can," he chuckled, "I can count the people I did speak to on one hand."

She giggled like a schoolgirl – it brought a smile to his face.

"You're actually quite funny, Nott."

"Don't tell anyone that," he smiled, "I have a reputation to maintain."

"And what's that?"

"The broody loner?"

"Is that not true then?"

He paused to think for a second. And then he realised. "No," he said certainly. "Not anymore."


Pansy was watching her friends and their husbands kiss and talk about work, and she boredly sipped her champagne. Gone were the days when the girls sat in a corner and gossiped. Now with all the husbands, the group had doubled and everyone only spoke to their partner. Greg and Millicent were whispering to each other. Daphne and Ben were quarrelling, Astoria and her partner Gordon Pummell and Queenie and her husband Timothy Morcott were all doing shots of Firewhiskey and laughing loudly, while Tracey and her now husband Anthony were busy smiling blissfully and were interrupted every ten seconds by different weddings guests. Theodore and Blaise were just conversing quietly, swirling their glasses of some dark liquid.

Draco came back to join her at the table, he was handsome in his bottle green suit. "Proteus is being a nightmare," he said as he sat down and grabbed his champagne flute and took a big swig.

"Oh no," said Pansy, "Should I head up to the room?"

"What was the point of bringing the House-Elves here then?" Said Draco. "No, we need to enjoy ourselves. It's so rare we get to go out anymore."

"You know he's going to keep us up all night when we get back," said Pansy anxiously.

Draco finished the rest of his glass. "Then let's get drunk so we can sleep through it!"


Blaise had stepped out from the wedding to smoke a cigar in the darkness when Tracey had come outside. She looked beautiful in her white dress robes, a big glistening diamond on her finger.

"Drunk again?"

"Have you met me?"

"You're too Slytherin, Blaise."

"Not Slytherin enough, Tracey."

She sighed. He was right. She never had been.

"Blaise, give it a rest," Tracey said. "It's ok to let someone in you know. Maybe if you had this would've been our wedding."

He just blankly stared at her, but he could feel the panic rising. He wished she'd stop speaking about this, and suddenly he craved another drink, a strong one.

"You know," she went on, almost tiredly. "Love isn't dangerous, like you think it is."

What the hell did she know? She hadn't grown up in his house. He silently shook his head, barely noticeably.

"Most women don't kill the people who love them," she added, and he could hear the annoyance in her voice.

"I guess you should've told me sooner," he said, attempting a joke, but he knew she wouldn't find it funny.

"Don't you blame me for anything," she said warningly.

"How's married life?" Blaise drawled. He knew she could tell he was drunk. She fixed him with a cold look.

"Go home Blaise," said Tracey, "because I'm going home with my husband."

"A lucky man," chuckled Blaise quietly.

"Pull yourself together," replied Tracey and there was almost a hint of disdain in her voice. Then she went inside.


Tracey was happy with the accomplishment of a career and marriage; she thought maybe children was next. But she was now upskilling by studying Wizarding Law - she wasn't a glorified housewife like Pansy and Daphne. They loved nothing more than spending their husbands' money and gossiping over cocktails in Diagon Alley. Of course, she enjoyed spending time with her girlfriends too, but it wasn't everything in her life.

During one of these cocktail sessions over the weekend after the wedding, they had, naturally, judged how everyone had acted. Pansy, Daphne, Queenie, Astoria and Millicent had all insisted they had had so much fun, which pleased Tracey. She told them about how Blaise had behaved at the wedding.

"Ugh, so glad you escaped him when you did," Daphne said. "I mean, no offence to either of us but I don't know what we ever saw in him. All that boy cares about is money, sex and Firewhiskey."

"And his mum," said Tracey, and somehow felt offended that Daphne put them in the same category. Daphne had had a silly one-sided school crush on Blaise while Tracey and him had loved each other. At least as much as Blaise was capable of loving anyone. "But you're right. He's no good."

Tracey looked sideways at Anthony sleeping next to her the next morning, and she smiled. She knew the best thing that had ever happened to her was splitting up with Blaise Zabini. Because this is what she deserved. Thank Merlin it hadn't worked out with Blaise.


Pansy was watching the House-Elves set up for the anniversary dinner, an event they threw annually, while Daphne was updating her on the latest gossip. The kids were back from Hogwarts for the bank holiday, and Scorpius and Nova were flirtier than ever, standing in a corner of the drawing room, seemingly unfazed that the House-Elves were running around them moving tables, lighting candles and folding napkins.

"We're thinking of selling the house and moving to Surrey," said Daphne, sipping her drink.

"What, leave the west country?" said Pansy, hurt. "But you've grown up here, and you're close to me."

Daphne smiled. "I'm in Cornwall, it's not like I can walk to yours anyway. Apparition or Floo takes just as long from Surrey. We'd still see each other all the time."

"But why Surrey?"

"It has a lovely Wizarding community. More of a village feel than where we currently are. Our beach town gets so quiet majority of the year. And in the summer there are too many Muggle tourists. Plus the economy…"

"I thought you liked your countryside life," said Pansy, sipping her wine.

"We do, but we think it's time for a change. The kids are at school now anyway, so we don't need the huge house anymore."

"Speaking of the kids, your daughter seems pretty taken by my son."

"What are you on about?" said Daphne, turning to stare at her.

"Scorpius and Nova like each other," said Pansy, smiling slightly.

"Surely not," said Daphne. "That's disgusting. They're like cousins."

"Well," Pansy said, "just look at them." They both turned to look at their children who were still stood gossiping and joking. Daphne narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't prove anything."

"You're in denial," Pansy said, grinning. "They are just like me and Draco when we were little. Look at them!"

"They may just be friends for now," said Daphne, stirring her drink nervously. Pansy looked back at the kids. Nova was giggling and Scorpius was stroking her arm, a flirty smirk on his face.

"All right, enough, kids!" Pansy called out to the pair. "Upstairs, the guests will be here in a minute. Go on."


Every couple months Blaise returned to England from his various business trips, and Draco made sure to set out time in his busy diary to see his friend, so he had invited him over for a drink before the large dinner party they were throwing that evening for the anniversary. He also wanted to test out his new large mahogany pool table in one of the less used rooms upstairs of the manor. The view over the vast grounds was impressive from up here. The mantelpiece was elaborately decorated and the walls filled with ornate tapestries. Draco was already polishing his cue stick when Blaise appeared in the doorway.

"Good to see you Blaise," he said, and they shook hands.

"Good to see you too, Malfoy," said Blaise.

"Where have you come back from this time?"

"Centaur conference in Ireland," said Blaise boredly and accepted another cue stick from Draco. "How's life? How's the missus? And the kids?"

"Everyone's good, thanks," said Draco, and he rubbed the end of his cue stick in the chalk piece which had a stamped M for Malfoy in it. "Isn't it time for you to take a wife?"

Blaise sniggered. "You sound about seventy saying that, mate."

"Fair enough," said Draco. "But, you know, the rest of us have kids in Hogwarts and stuff."

"We can't all stay our whole lives with the girl we fell in love with as soon as we hit puberty," said Blaise with a sneer while aiming his first shot.

"Touche," said Draco, chuckling a little. "Theo's pulled Agnes Runcorn by the way," he said and took a puff of his cigar.

"How the bloody hell did he manage that?" Blaise exclaimed, laughing out loud.

"And Goyle and Bulstrode are apparently shacking up," Draco added, and aimed another shot.

Blaise exclaimed a laughter. "I need a proper drink now!"

He couldn't help but to think, back in school he could've had anyone, he had the pick of the bunch, and now they were all taken. He hadn't picked anyone. Why hadn't he picked?

Draco snapped his fingers at the House-Elf who was lingering by the door in case they needed assistance.

"Firewhiskeys all around," sniggered Draco. "We have a lot to catch up on."

Goyle joined them a while later and told them about how he'd ran into Slughorn who was boasting about how many jobs he could get them through his connections.

"Where was that after Hogwarts, when he was needed?" Goyle snorted, "Nowhere to be found, eh? Although, he's a true old Slytherin, ain't he?"

"Indeed," said Draco, "He probably wants something from us now that we've all got proper careers. No shame in putting yourself first though, we all do it."

"He's still a pompous old ponce," said Goyle.

"He never helped us, or cared about us at all," Draco agreed. "At least Snape looked out for us."

"By taking points from the Gryffindors as often as he could," sniggered Goyle.

"It was the least he could do," said Draco, "when all the other teachers took point from us any chance they got."

"I, for one, liked Slughorn," said Blaise casually. The other two sent him a glare.

"Of course you did," Draco sneered, "He invited you to his poof parties."

"Sod off, Malfoy. All right, Nott?"

They looked up to see that indeed, Theodore had arrived too. He grabbed himself a drink off the House-Elf and joined them.

Lately Draco had thrown himself into broomstick collections and charity donating, to fulfil himself even more. Naturally, he had to braggingly show his collection to his friends. He had all the most expensive brooms, which solidified his ego.

"This one, I got from a dealer in Monaco," he said as he showed them Comet 500. "Four second acceleration to full speed - that's double even the Firebolt!"

He went onto the next (it looked the same as the previous one in Theodore's opinion, not that he had ever been interested in Quidditch). "This one... the antique Shooting Star. Oak and elm, polished with unicorn hair and handmade down to the last twig. It's one of a kind. Fifty thousand galleons. I'm the only one in the country with one."

Theodore and Blaise shared a look and almost rolled their eyes. Goyle on the other hand grinned appreciatively. "Cool! When can we take it for a spin?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Greg," snapped Draco, "these aren't for riding!"

"What's the point then?" said Blaise, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

"You wouldn't understand," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "You were never into sports."

"I heard," Goyle interrupted, "from Baddock, he's the grandson of the founder of one of the broom companies – that there's going to be a new Firebolt out soon."

Draco whistled approvingly.

"It's not set to hit the market until autumn time," Goyle carried on, "but meant to be the fastest and slimmest ever, it's called the Firebolt Ultra."

Draco's eyes were suddenly huge like galleons - he needed that broom.

The lads went outside to smoke a cigar, a tradition they had on special occasions.

"Heard about you and Bulstrode," said Draco to Goyle then, and Goyle looked up at him quickly, not sure whether he was teasing or not.

"Yeah," Goyle grunted sheepishly, blushing slightly. Draco couldn't think of anything better for his old friend.

"Happy for you, mate," he said and slapped Goyle's back. "Vince would be happy for you as well I reckon."

"He would," Goyle guffawed. "He'd fucking love it."

"How's the Mrs?" Blaise asked Anthony, blowing smoke in his face.

Anthony sighed just noticeably. "She's fine, Blaise."

But Draco, who wasn't paying attention to Blaise, was smirking at Nott. "And what's this I hear about you and Agnes Runcorn, Theo?"

Theodore just broke into a rare smile.

"Oh, go on, spill the beans, mate," said Goyle.

"Enjoy my leftovers," Blaise said scathingly to Anthony, and even Draco who never normally got involved in the gossip and the drama (that was typically Pansy's role), audibly gasped.

"Enough, Blaise," Anthony said, and shook his head at him, almost with pity.

"Read the room, mate," Theodore scolded Blaise.

"Yeah, that's not on," Goyle said, and Draco nodded. Blaise just smirked and went inside. The rest of the boys shared a meaningful look before they too joined him inside.

Draco has also invited Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Marcus Belby and Roger Davies who all worked in different departments at the Ministry, and who happened to have been good friends of Anthony's at Hogwarts. Draco wanted to dilute their group of previously all Slytherins. He had also always said, since the war, that it was imperative to make as many connections in the Ministry as possible, after all. After all these years Draco was still keen to prove he was on the right side.

Personally, Pansy was glad Tracey had married Anthony Goldstein and not that sodding Zacharias Smith or the pompous Ernie McMillan, or any other Hufflepuff for that matter. Ravenclaw was the superior house after Slytherin after all. Anthony was kind, generous, a good man, and decent company at parties too. He'd been a member of Potter's defence group at school and fought in the battle on the right side, unlike most of their group. It was a good look to marry someone like him.

Timothy Morcott, Graham Pritchard and Oliver Harper - all on the Slytherin quidditch team in their final year of Hogwarts – had also been invited along with Mathilda Greenford and Agnes Runcorn, the younger Slytherin girls, as well as Pansy's university friends Clara Taylor, Arabella Jones, Theodora Selwyn and Henrietta Rowle. It was shaping up to be quite a large party.

Queenie had bumped into Lavender Brown on a business trip to Paris for her fashion brand Enchanting Robes, while Brown was covering fashion week for Witch Weekly as a photographer, thus she had been invited and had brought Parvati Patil along, who Pansy knew from before Hogwarts but they'd always been on two different sides. Now, finally there were no more sides.

Parvati told them how she was working at St Mungo's, training to be a Healer. Pansy personally couldn't understand why anyone would risk their own safety for other people in this way, especially for such little money, but she confessed herself impressed. Daphne and Astoria bragged about having inherited the family business, a chain of apothecaries. It was a typical Malfoy manor anniversary party.

Draco looked around the drawing room, the same room that Voldemort had once inhabited. They had definitely retaken it. Malfoy manor had been nothing but a haunted house for a while after the war, with most parts of it reminding him of different fragments of the nightmare, but it had since been overtaken again by their family and now it was a house filled with warmth and love. A safe place for his children to grow up. There was no more horror in their house. The bad memories had slowly been replaced by new ones.

Tessy came in through the large doors and cleared her throat. "Mr Baddock is trying to use the Floo, master, shall I admit him into the drawing room?"

"Yes, by all means," said Draco. Malcolm Baddock appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, Malcolm," said Draco, motioning for him to come and join them at the table.

Baddock smirked ostentatiously, "Ah, here we have them, Slytherin's finest."

After they had dug into their dinner of goose with confit potatoes, Crème brûlée for dessert, and countless glasses of Elf-made wine, the younger Slytherins had left and the core nine Slytherins had ended up in one end of the large table, reminiscing about their memories in a way only a certain group from the same class and house could, while Lavender, Parvati and the Ravenclaws were scattered around the sofas in the other end of the room, undoubtedly discussing their own school memories, from being in Dumbledore's Army or whatever they shared.

Of course, school memories were deeply intertwined with memories of loyalties, unfairness, choosing sides, the war, the battle and the Dark Lord. It was the anniversary after all, a time to reminisce about the time the world had turned on Slytherin.

"I felt like I was..." Pansy paused, struggling for the right words, "Powerful because of the blood that pulsed through my veins. I could honestly feel it, how much better I was than the rest... It felt magical... empowering... I felt royal..."

A few of the girls nodded, understanding.

"I thought we were Purebloods carrying on a dynasty, as we should," Pansy continued. "It's so silly. Ridiculous. I thought we were on top of the world."

"Mad, isn't it," said Draco, "To find out everything you'd believed was a lie."

"Proper jarring," Goyle agreed.

"And so," Theodore said, "we began to realise that our leader for Pureblood supremacy was mental. Completely off his rocker. Mad."

"It's like what my father always kept telling me," said Pansy. "But I never understood it."

"My father was undoubtedly worse," Draco muttered.

"No," Theodore laughed, "mine really was."

"Mine wasn't great either," said Goyle, shrugging.

"Oi, Blaise," Theodore said jokingly, "we're discussing whose dad was the worst, care to join?"

"But that's unfair," Blaise chortled sarcastically, "I've got so many to choose from."

"Do you remember when Slughorn had a thing for your mother?" Daphne said, laughing.

"Don't remind me," said Blaise.

"I always liked that bloke that seemed to be around before we went to Hogwarts," said Nott. "Septimus. What was he – number four?"

"Mr Felstead was my personal favourite," said Draco smiling slightly, "Number eight I believe."

"Obviously he was your favourite," Pansy said, rolling her eyes, "He kept you out of Azkaban!"

"It's so mad that some of us went to Azkaban," said Queenie. "Obviously, not anyone here, but like half of our friends from school. I wonder what ever happened to Montague and Bletchley and all of them."

Draco had wondered the same thing many times. If he could go back he never would've given the Ministry their names. It was one of many things he was ashamed of and regretted deeply from his youth.

"It was inevitable that some Slytherins would join You-Know-Who," said Tracey. "I personally never would've, obviously," she sniggered, and a couple of them laughed, "but I don't blame them for doing it. They'd grown up with those beliefs, just like Draco and Theodore," she nodded towards them, "and they were only kids too. And besides, the friction between the houses didn't help."

"Yeah, those bloody Gryffindors never even gave us a chance," said Goyle.

"No, and we were happy being in our Slytherin bubble," said Tracey. "Although, to be fair, we never tried with the other houses either."

"Because they already hated us," said Queenie. "That feud goes back way before our time – so long that no one even knows who started it."

Theodore, Draco and Blaise glanced at each other, then they said in unison, "Definitely the Gryffindors."

The girls laughed.

"Still, even after all these years, it's annoying to be judged so hard just for being Slytherin," said Queenie.

"Yeah," said Zabini with a crooked smile. "It's mad how much power was given to an old hat."

"The hat was just there to point out certain traits," said Theodore. "It didn't mean we all had to be like it categorised us."

"Oh come on. Everyone's Slytherin deep down," said Pansy. "Who wants to be brave and clever when you can get everything you want just by your own resourcefulness?"

"Only you would be of that opinion, Pansy," said Tracey scathingly.

"Well, thank you to our hosts," said Daphne and raised her glass. "Pansy and Draco, thanks for hosting another anniversary. It's my favourite holiday."

"That could be taken wrong," said Blaise dryly.

"I just mean," said Daphne, "that it's good to think back on it. And I don't think we'd be where we are without the war. It made me appreciate everything more."

"I can drink to that."

Everyone clinked their glasses together.

"I agree," Pansy said then. "Every year, at the anniversary, it's hard to reminisce about the war. I don't like talking about it."

"But it's important," Draco said solemnly.

"It is," she said. "To see how far we've come. I for one am ashamed of who I was in school. I was such a bully."

The girls looked surprised, but Tracey smiled at her.

"That's just the hierarchy of Slytherin," said Blaise. "Someone has to be."

"That doesn't make it right, or ok," said Pansy.

"Come on," said Draco, "we've atoned enough. Aren't we allowed to live our lives now? Plus I was way worse than you. I was a Death Eater." He visibly shuddered.

"Not a very good one," said Pansy.

"No, that's true," said Theodore, smirking slightly. "You may have been an entitled prick, Draco, but you were never a psychopath or a murderer like the others, and you were never a true Death Eater."

"You also didn't know what the hell you were doing," said Blaise, sneering slightly. "You'd been manipulated to think the Cause was the right thing. I remember all the propaganda too, but it wasn't like it was a profound revolution or a political movement," he carried on. "It was just utter chaos. It was doomed from the start."

"But I don't think we had a choice," Daphne said. "Especially Malfoy."

Draco, who knew used to be the biggest coward of them all, was the one who said, "Everyone has a choice."

"Not all of us had to make one though," said Tracey.

"I didn't choose a side," Blaise shrugged. "I was just trying to survive."

"I wish I hadn't chosen," said Theodore. "But the Death Eater lifestyle was sold to us as this glamorous and rewarding paradise." He rolled his eyes. "In reality, which we should've known all along, it was an irreversible life of terror, a trap."

Draco couldn't help but to feel proud, and somewhat surprised at his friend's words.

"But what else were we supposed to do?" said Queenie, rolling her eyes. "The Gryffindors didn't want our help. And they said we were prejudiced."

"More like bigotry from them," said Daphne.

"The Dark Lord was just obsessed with his own immortality and Harry Potter," Draco said, "Not protecting the Wizarding world."

"We were in too deep before we realised that," said Pansy.

"And don't even get me started on the Carrows," said Tracey.

"But we didn't have a choice in supporting the Carrows. It was either you were with them or against them. Torture or be tortured," said Daphne.

"And if we had rebelled our parents would've been at risk too," Queenie said.

"But we did rebel," said Tracey. "Eventually."

"And lucky for us the battle happened two days later and so there were never any consequences for us," said Blaise with a smirk.

"I'm, for one, glad we all became traitors," Pansy laughed.

"To the traitors!" Nott said loudly, and they all laughed and clinked their glasses together. Draco never would've thought a few years ago that Theodore Nott would've been cheering to something like this. Perhaps they'd never been diplomatic per se but they had tried to not pick sides. Was that the same as being hypocrites?

It was probably good that Lucius had been sent away for five years until Draco was 23 so he could have a chance at becoming his own man, free from his father's judgements. Because after all, Draco had been a child desperate for his peers' approval, as well as his father. It was why he'd been a bully all along. He'd thought he'd had it all figured out but he'd known absolutely nothing, even about himself. But there was a difference between being a bully and being a Death Eater. The first role he could take responsibility for, but not the second. He'd always been very Slytherin, but that wasn't the same as being a Death Eater. Somehow over the years the two had become intertwined but that wasn't truly the essence of Slytherin, after all. How strange was it to think that Lucius had fallen for the Dark Lord's crap to begin with, after all hadn't he always made it out like the Malfoys bowed to no one? Why had he bowed to that snake? And forced his son to, as well.

When Draco thought back on it now, he was astounded. He'd only been sixteen, a child. He couldn't believe so much time had passed. Back then he'd thought he was such an adult; he'd thought himself so mature, when in reality he'd only been alive for sixteen years. Now he thought the whole thing was absurd. He'd known nothing back then. To think his own son was only three years younger than he'd been when he'd been ordered to murder someone was mental. Perhaps he had deserved to go to Azkaban after all – it was something he hadn't thought back when the war ended, selfishly. But now, thinking back on it, why had he been spared? He should've been sent to Azkaban like the rest of the Death Eaters.

But he had atoned. It was as though when they had left Hogwarts and the war behind them, and they weren't always surrounded by bitter, angry, unfairly treated Slytherins, their hatred had eased, as well as their prejudice against Muggleborns. They were still surrounded by a lot of the same people, but their hatred for anyone who wasn't like them had become diluted, perhaps because they had all learnt a lot from the war, and because they didn't exclusively associate with old school traditional Slytherins anymore.

There had been a time where he had been so utterly broken, after the war, but maybe that wasn't the case anymore, Draco thought. Perhaps he'd finally redeemed himself enough, finally forgiven himself.

And maybe he should take his own advice, to allow himself to live his life guilt-free.


Before turning in for the evening, as the House-Elves were clearing up the last of their dessert and the endless various glassware on the table, Pansy saw, in a slightly tipsy blur, how Parvati and Blaise were some of the few guests still there. They were chatting, almost without breaking eye contact, and something about Blaise seemed lighter, she concluded – he didn't look as bored and disdainful as he had the last few years. She'd never particularly got on with Zabini, but for some reason this gave her a sense of hope.


Lucius Malfoy was buried in Narcissa's rose garden outside the manor on the first cold day of autumn. It was a stormy day, the sky hidden behind thick dark clouds and thunder hanging in the air. They all wept. He was finally forgiven. Before he died he reached out for Draco's hand and grabbed it tight. Draco felt abashed over the tears that rolled down his face, he knew his father wouldn't approve. Lucius' voice was croaky and his face paler even than usual, when he said, "Forgive me, my son."

Draco had nodded ferociously and kissed his father's hand in his own. "Yes, father. I forgive you."

"You've become a better man than I ever was," Lucius said in such a quiet voice it was almost a whisper. It was his final sacrifice, his final gesture of making things up to his son. Letting go of his pride.

"Your father died proud that you are not like him," whispered Narcissa after, with silent tears streaming down her face.

Could that be true? He knew his father had thought he'd given him everything – money, a big house, a fancy lifestyle, glory and popularity. Along with questionable morals, Draco knew. When Draco inherited a cellar full of dark magic objects (as well as a hefty addition to his Gringotts vault) he couldn't help but to feel disappointed that his father had kept a hold of it all. All the way to the end he had clung onto his old relics, his old beliefs, to the Dark Lord. Draco wouldn't say it out loud, not even to Pansy, but he was relieved when his father died. Perhaps all Draco had ever wanted was to be free from the constraints of his family's expectations. His father's expectations. His father's rules. He finally had peace now. Perhaps this had been what pruning the rot from the family tree had actually been about, not getting rid of Blood-traitors like his aunt Bellatrix had thought. Getting rid of the evil, the corrupt.

"I was relieved when my father died too," Theodore whispered to him, standing next to him at the funeral. Draco met his eyes. There was genuine care there. Understanding. Kinship. The bond that they had originally shared as children and teenagers, felt solidified again. They could've been brothers, after all. There was probably no one else as similar to him. They would always be connected after everything they'd gone through. Two boys, now men, who somehow hadn't become like their fathers.

"Thanks, mate," Draco said quietly.

He had thought that after the war, he would have had to prepare for a life of mockery and being shunned. That life would never be the same. And, in a way, it wasn't. But he'd never known what life would've been like without the war, without the Dark Lord, without his father. Granted, they hadn't been on the right side, but he thought that perhaps there was something in between good and evil. He'd never been a precious Gryffindor, but he had had friendships, and loyalty, and bravery in his own way, and he had loved.

Pansy had always been there for him, she had stood by him when everyone else had abandoned him. They were each other's confidants, partners in crime, best friends. They knew everything about each other and nothing could scare her off. Nothing in this world could mean more. Merlin, he sounded like a bloody Gryffindor. But how peculiar was it that someone who had given him such grief at some points in their lives, was now his largest sense of safety and security. And now being a father and loving other people more than he loved himself, was a feeling he never had expected to feel. His children were the best part of him, he knew now, and he knew that Lucius had never felt that way. Or had he? Life had begun anew when they came to be. He made it his lives mission to make sure they knew how loved they were. When he was young, the most important thing had been to be popular, admired and feared. Now, the best thing he could imagine was feeling love and pride for his children. His sense of purpose had done a 180. They were his legacy now, in a world that didn't feel dark anymore.

He'd received a letter that morning from Scorpius, who was in his third year of Hogwarts, saying that he'd just got an Outstanding in an exam. He was so proud. Scorpius had in the same letter denied taking Draco's expensive Quidditch gloves after Draco had threatened him with a simple "I will find out". Daphne had also let him know that Scorpius was now dating both of her twin daughters, Estella and supposed gone were the days when his eldest son listened to anything he said. Still, he loved the boy wholly.

He looked out the bathroom window of the manor's second floor, to see that the storm clouds had parted after a very dark day. Light was now creeping in behind a couple smaller clouds. The spectacular sound of his youngest son's giggle brought his attention back inside the room. He watched as Pansy was attacked by a wet Proteus fresh out of the bath, jumping into her arms. They both laughed and she wrapped him in a large towel and her arms simultaneously. She ruffled his wet, dirty blonde hair with the towel so it stood as spikes on all ends. He laughed heartily again and Draco watched them, thinking that if he could spend the rest of his days like this, he wouldn't complain.

Perhaps he was finally whole again after the war – or better yet, for a moment it felt as though he had always been whole.