Thank you for reading! I don't own any of Harry Potter! Please let me know if you enjoy! Updates every Saturday!

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Both sides of the war stood in Hogwarts' battered courtyard, staring in blatant disbelief as Harry Potter tried to regain his breath while the last ashy, remains of what had been Lord Voldemort crumbled away into the blowing wind of that early May morning.

Inside the castle, Hermione let go of Ron with a gasp as the enchanted serpent who had been going to end their lives a second earlier practically vanished with a single swing of Gryffindor's sword.

"Thanks, Neville." Ron managed to croak.

"Yeah……..Don't mention it." Neville said as he swallowed dryly, still in shock his valiant rescue attempt had actually come to frutition.

An odd sense of peace enveloped the castle as a somber quiet unknown during the previous hours of battle slowly became noticeable.

Hermione gradually staggered to her feet and began to walk forward.

If Harry had lost, she had to know.

If Harry had won, she had to know.

Was it finally…….over?

As Hermione shuffled out into the blinding light brought forth by the rising sun, she squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes.

Across the broken courtyard, as Hermione stepped out into the new day, few eyes fell on her as everyone contemplated what had happened.

Harry turned and gave her a nod, but Draco felt his world suddenly bloom with the seedlings of relieved happiness once more.

She had survived.

It didn't matter they would never be together, the omega who held his heart had survived.

Lucius and Narcissa put their hands on Draco's shoulders in an attempt to lead him away, but he brushed them both aside as he cast them each a thoughtful frown.

Narcissa and Lucius exchanged questioning glances as Draco stomped away from his family and all their many evil friends to stand in front of Harry and Hermione.

"It's over, Malfoy." Hermione growled as she cast Draco an unwelcoming scowl, "What do you want? Your childish taunts won't do any good now."

Draco cradled his broken heart as he imagined ways to defend himself, but Harry unexpectedly came to his aid as he turned his head towards her and spoke. "He helped, Hermione."

A smirk curled Draco's lips as he watched her eyes widen.

"What?!?!" She gasped.

"Malfoy threw me his wand." Harry explained with a nod as he held the Elder Wand up for her to see, "It wasn't going as well as I thought. He was………He was stronger than I imagined. My wand snapped, but Draco……Well……."

Hermione's amber eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

"...Thanks." Harry said sheepishly as he scratched the back of his neck while he glanced over at Draco.

Draco silently nodded in quiet acceptance of Harry's statement, both young men trying to overcome the awkwardness brought on by years of bitter rivaling.

Hermione wanted to rush forward, throw her arms around Draco, and give him the kiss she had spent so many nights dreaming about.

A groan from behind them interrupted her plans as she and Harry turned to rush to a wounded student's side.

While they helped the injured Ravenclaw girl to the makeshift infirmary that had been established in the Great Hall, Hermione glanced back over her shoulder.

She realized it shouldn't have, but the blatant disappointment on Draco's face made her want to squeal with delight.

Had he been expecting the same kiss she had wanted to give?

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The summer that followed was a quiet time of mourning for Britain's wizarding world.

Hermione contacted her parents in Australia and brought them home, after which she gladly restored their memories.

Her peaceful and joyous reunion with her family provided sunny spots of enjoyment between the sobering sadness that came from attending one funeral after another during the weeks that followed.

Draco, on the other hand, found no peace at all after the war's conclusion.

His days became hectic scrambles spent assisting his mother with trying desperately to keep his father out of prison and the decaying family business afloat.

It seemed that supporting a fascist movement was in fact, not a popular political move to attract customers.

The days spent teetering between existential dread and anxious nervousness about what would become of him and his family left Draco little time for dalliances.

Regardless, no matter how woeful his parents had become or how many of his friends had seemingly disappeared into the woodwork, Draco was……only human.

The bleakness of his ruined world didn't stop him from dreaming of one day making a happier life for himself.

The lonely nights he spent in his otherwise empty bed chamber were warmed by memories of Hermione's face and the fond recollection of her scent and voice.

Regardless, his ruts were nearly unbearable.

Lonely and desperate, he writhed in his bed as he sought to take away the aching need with his own hand, only to be left empty and teary-eyed once he had finished, after the wild fantasies of his amber-haired beloved left him.

As July faded into August, he sat at the Malfoy dining table one night while he ate dinner with his parents.

Lucius looked haggard and grey, exhausted from yet another fortnight in Azkaban prison before his most recent bond had finally been approved.

Narcissa seemed tired and she was, tired of being her husband's hero, tired of worry, tired of strife.

She looked to her son to provide the family with happier times.

"Draco," She began as she cleared her throat, "...Your father and I are going away soon for awhile. Please don't ask us any questions, we can't say where, but we must keep your father safe. You'll have the house to yourself and….We've been thinking……You are getting older, my sweet boy."

"Aren't we all, Mother?" Draco quipped.

Lucius shifted in his chair.

"Of course." Narcissa smiled, "But when I was your age, I had already been betrothed to your father, the match had been set into place."

Draco looked up from his plate to meet his mother's eyes with a wide-eyed look of silent horror.

Lucius watched his wife and son carefully as Narcissa went on, "Your father and I are hopeful that finding you a suitable bride may improve your own mood and our family's stability. There are many pure-blooded families with eligible daughters who can sympathize with the unfortunate plight we find ourselves saddled with, the Ranens, the Greengrasses, the-"

"-No." Draco said flatly.

Lucius narrowed his eyes while Narcissa turned her head slightly to glance over at her husband.

"I have no interest in marrying." Draco mumbled as he stood from the table, threw his black napkin down, and hurried away, visibly sickened by the idea of spending his days next to anyone besides Hermione.

If Draco couldn't have the mate he so desired, then he would gladly live and die a bachelor.

What would be wrong with that?

No more parts to play, no more social obligation.

After spending the past years following his parents' wishes perfectly to ensure they all didn't end up murdered or tortured, Draco had grown too exhausted to continue upholding any further ruses.

An unwanted bride would be nothing but a chore.

"Your father and i are very displeased!" Narcissa called as Draco put his hands on the Malfoy dining room's carved handle.

Lucius scowled.

Draco stopped abruptly when he heard her call.

He turned to look at his parents with his face marred by frustrated anger as he snapped, "Forgive me, Mother, but I don't remember a time when father has ever been pleased."

Lucius flinched as if Draco had just slapped him while he turned back around, opened the door, and stalked out into the hallway.

"The boy is being needlessly obstinate, Cissa." Lucius scoffed as they each turned back to their meal.

"That……" Narcissa shrugged, "...Or something else."

"What are you talking about?" Lucius scowled.

"We've both been blind, haven't we, Lucius?" Narcissa asked with a smile.

Lucius gazed at his wife as he silently waited for what she would say next until she shrugged and determined, "I suppose it's entirely possible that Draco may already have a bride in mind."

Lucius found the idea intriguing enough.

He raised an eyebrow as he silently hoped that for once, his only son had done some of the legwork for him.

If Draco had found a lovely, pure-blooded witch from a wealthy family to marry, then he and Narcissa would be spared from having to spend their time securing a match.

Instead, they could focus their efforts on keeping themselves out of Azkaban.

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Draco crashed through his room's door in a swirling ball of fury.

He smashed every bottle of cologne that stood on his dresser.

He threw books onto the floor and ragefully kicked the wooden legs of the bed, knowing well enough a wave of his wand would set it all back in place.

Finally, defeated and desperate, he slumped against the wall and covered his face with his hands as he sighed.

He could already feel himself being doomed.

Without any guarantee of ever seeing Hermione again, Lucius and Narcissa would not put the issue of his marriage off forever.

A wild insanity seized Draco as he looked up.

His yearning heart would make one last attempt at fighting back the impossible.

As he rushed over to his desk, he sat down, and grabbed some parchment and a quill.

He drafted a soulful letter of confession to Hermione in less than fifteen minutes.

As he read over the page, a frown of disapproval spread across his face.

Annoyed by the words, he crumpled the parchment, tossed it aside, and began again on a new sheet.

Halfway through the night, Draco's heart pounded in his chest while his pen flew across yet another parchment to write yet another letter that would never reach his beloved.

All around him, crumpled balls of discarded words of love lay waiting on the floor.