Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little.
COVERT OPERATIONS
EPILOGUE
Promises had been made so long ago. Vows to wait... to be there when he saw the light of day again. They were the only things that had kept him going the past five years... the only things that kept his nightmares at bay, most of the time anyway.
Draco rose from his cot and looked around the cell that had been his home for the past five years. Nervous didn't even begin to describe how he felt. He didn't know what he was going to find waiting for him in London after all this time. What if she'd moved on? He couldn't blame her if she had. After all, five years was a long time to wait for a convicted Death Eater that no one in her family approved of, and it wasn't as if they ever had a real relationship.
"Unless you're contemplating staying, Malfoy, I suggest you get a move on," the guard grumbled.
"No," Draco muttered, turning towards the iron door and taking his first step towards freedom.
The corridor was no better lit than his cell had been. It seemed that even the wall sconces were afraid to shine too brightly in this special realm of hell. Draco tried to ignore the threats and obscenities coming from the other cells as they passed. He had been reminded many times that there were people who wanted him dead - people who would take pleasure in his death. He had testified against many and had given the names of even more to the Wizengamot. Of course, there was also the fact that his part in the downfall of the Dark Lord had been well publicized.
A startled shrieked erupted from him when an unexpected hand reached out and dragged him up against the bars of a cell so hard it almost rattled his brain.
"You are a disgrace to the family," the inmate hissed.
"Let him go, Lestrange," the guard snarled, with no real conviction. If they killed each other it was none of his concern, in fact it would make life a whole lot more pleasant, as far as he was concerned.
She shoved him backwards, putting him off-balance, and making him fall to the hard ground like some ungainly fool. He looked up at his aunt with blank eyes. There were no words to describe how he felt about the woman behind the bars. Even now, he couldn't fathom how two sisters could be so very different. His mother had been a loving woman, who would have given her life for her family. Her sister, however, was a murderous demon who would kill you in some torturous fashion just for fun.
Draco tried to ignore the taunts coming from the insane witch as he lifted himself off the stone floor. Her words still stung, even though he'd long ago disassociated himself with anyone who he shared a blood connection.
"Get a move on, Malfoy, before I find a reason to shove you back into a cell," the guard snarled.
Once again, Draco began following the disgruntled guard. His aunt's foul taunts followed him for quite a way. He wished she'd shut up, because her voice only served to make him more apprehensive about what he might find outside these dank, stone walls. After all, he was a convicted Death Eater, and no matter what he'd done to put an end to the war, the public at large would still perceive him as a heinous creature.
The guard suddenly stopped and shoved Draco into a small room. The vestibule looked no different from any other part of the prison. It was sparsely furnished with office pieces that looked as though they'd seen their best days decades ago.
Draco waited silently while the guard perused a battered file on the desk. He knew he didn't have any personal effects to collect, other than the clothes that he walked in wearing, but there was little chance of getting those back.
"You're right to go," the guard snarled finally.
"How?" Draco croaked, his voice a little rusty after years of little use.
"Someone should be waiting for you," the guard responded disinterestedly. "Family or friends."
Draco's heart dropped to his toes. He had no family or actual friends. There was Ginny, but there was also the possibility that she might have moved on and not even care that he was being released.
"Are you leaving or not? Because I have no problem locking you up again," the guard snarled.
Draco blinked at the man a couple of times. He'd not even seen him walk to the door, where he was now waiting somewhat impatiently for Draco to move. Rather than respond, Draco simply followed the man to the large iron doors across the courtyard. They made the most god-awful noise as they slowly crept open just enough for a single human to slip through.
Draco peered through the opening, afraid of what he wouldn't find and even more so of what he might. A large hand pushed him through the door, and onto the side of freedom, before he could will his own feet to move, then the iron doors slammed closed so hard the noise made his ears hurt.
Fear had him staring straight out at the dark water between him and the mainland. He didn't want to look around and risk seeing more empty space. The icy wind blew straight through the rags covering his body and he pulled the threadbare robes around himself tighter. Never would he have imagined he'd be attired in worse clothing than what the house elves of Malfoy Manor would have ever worn, but that was years ago. So much had changed the day he'd been discovered with the only Weasley witch to be born for seven generations. Still, now that he would be in the public eye his ingrained upbringing turned his thoughts briefly to his appearance. He knew his hair had grown wildly and for the most part it was so matted with dirt the only thing he could think to do was cut it off.
"Do you often mutter to yourself, Malfoy?"
Draco jumped and spun around to face the voice that had seemingly come out of nowhere.
"Calm down. I'm here to escort you back to London." Harry Potter shook his head at the blond and pushed himself off the outer wall of the prison.
"Why?" Draco said croakily.
"You really should have exercised your vocal cords a bit more," Harry commented. "Come on, let's get you back to London and into a bath."
"How?"
"Side-Along Apparation. When we get back I'll give you your wand."
"It was snapped," Draco responded emotionlessly.
"No, it wasn't. I kept yours and offered up a replacement to be snapped, so you wouldn't have to get a new wand."
The blond wizard frowned. "Are you allowed-"
"No," Harry interjected quickly. He'd done it as a favor to Ginny at the time, because she was so distraught. "You can't tell anyone you have your original wand back."
Draco nodded.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Harry offered his arm to the ex-prisoner. "Hold on tight."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Before he knew it they were standing in the Ministry of Magic. It was a part of the building Draco didn't recognize at all, and he waited for Potter to explain.
"I just have to get something from my desk, and then we'll get you back to my place so you can clean up."
"I-umm-I'd rather go home, if it's all the same."
Harry sighed heavily and reminded himself of the promises he made to his dear friend only this morning. "If that's what you want, but we'll have to stop by my place to get your wand."
"Fine."
"Just stay close to me," Harry instructed, setting off down the corridor.
"Where are we?"
"The Ministry."
"I know that. Where exactly in the Ministry?"
Harry opened a door and ushered Draco inside a vast room. There were rows of cubicles in the room and it suddenly dawned on Draco precisely where they were-it was somewhere that he didn't feel terribly comfortable.
"Come on, Malfoy, you don't want to be staring at anyone in here, or they might take it upon themselves to arrest you again." Harry chuckled as he strode confidently across the room and began shuffling papers at a desk.
"You-you're an Auror?"
"Yeah." Harry turned back the file he was flipping through.
Draco examined the top of Potter's desk with interest. There were files stacked high on one corner, an ink spill right next to that, and a coffee mug that looked as though it might have actually begun to send roots into the wood of his desk. On the other side of the desk there were a few photographs in frames: Potter, Weasley and Granger in one, another showed a little boy with startling ginger hair, and then another showed the same little boy with another boy around the same age - Draco couldn't quite make out the other little boy, because he was hiding by the edge of the frame.
"Who's that?" Draco asked, pointing to the ginger-haired little boy.
"Ron's boy. He's my godson," Harry answered proudly.
"Weasley has a child?"
"Lots of people have children now. I've lost track of how many fourth birthday parties I've been to in the past couple of months."
"I don't follow."
"When the war ended people pretty much went at it in a very celebratory manner, and nine months later the wizarding population simply exploded."
"Oh, I see." Draco hadn't exactly celebrated the end of the war. He and Ginny had spent the days following the downfall of Voldemort in each other's company, but celebrations were far from their minds with his impending date with the Wizengamot. Even Potter had been astounded at how fast the Wizengamot convened to start processing the captured Death Eaters, and he had been one of the first to face his fate. He tried to remember just how many days he and Ginny had together before he was sent to Azkaban for what seemed like an eternity. Two days was what he decided upon eventually-it hadn't been long enough, in his opinion, but then forever wouldn't have been long enough either.
Potter's head snapped up suddenly. "Bloody buggering hell."
Snapped out of his thoughts, Draco noticed that Potter was looking past him at someone or something over his left shoulder. Five years of conditioning kept his curiosity from getting the better of him and he remained focused solely on Potter.
"You promised," Potter growled with the barest hint of a pleading tone to whomever was standing behind Draco.
There was no response from the person the Auror was trying to engage in conversation, and an odd prickling sensation began to creep up Draco's spine. It was urging him to turn around, to face the person so obviously staring at him, but his will of iron refused his legs' request to move.
A desperate whisper, full of emotion, flowed over him.
"Draco."
Now he couldn't ignore the person behind him. Whoever it was knew him. He didn't dare to hope that it was the one person who had haunted his dreams for five lonely years. It was as if he was caught in one of those dreams or nightmares or whatever they had been; he could practically see himself responding to his caller. He turned agonizingly slowly, not really wanting to now, but unable to stop his body from moving. Deep in his heart he knew exactly who was standing behind him, and the thought of facing that person, of seeing their reaction, terrified him more than anything ever had.
Though it seemed like it took an eon for him to turn, he was facing her all too soon. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her amazing hair flowed down her back in soft waves. How he had ever thought the color was ugly was quite beyond him; it was the most stunning hair color he'd ever had the pleasure of viewing. Her tear-filled cinnamon eyes were imploring him to react, to acknowledge her, but he was paralyzed under their attention.
As the first tears escaped her eyes, memories came flooding back to him in vivid detail. The first time he took her, in Ollivander's abandoned store, it had just happened so naturally that neither of them were able to stop themselves. The clandestine affair that had followed was heated and dangerous, yet neither ever tried to put an end to it. The day he was captured and their sordid affair became public knowledge; he could still see the horror-struck expression on Ron Weasley's face.
The worst of the memories to flood his mind was undeniably his trial before the Wizengamot. He tried to push the memory of the last time he saw her from his mind, because the picture of her collapsing against one of her brothers as he was sentenced wasn't something he wanted to remember. His efforts were pitiful, as he could still hear her howl of anguish echoing through his brain when the guards dragged him away.
It was then that he remembered there was something he'd vowed he would tell her if he ever got the opportunity. He knew it was important, but for the life of him he couldn't recall exactly what the words he needed to say were.
"Ginny, you promised you wouldn't come," Potter said as he moved between the two people lost in each other's gazes. "I told you he'd be in no condition to see you right away and you can see why. Azkaban is not a kind place to anyone. I didn't want you to see him like this." Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He may as well have been talking to the stone gnome in the next cubicle for all the reaction he received from his best friend's little sister. The whole family had hoped, against hope, that their feelings for each other would have waned over the years, but Harry knew this wasn't the case - he could still feel the air crackle whenever these two were in the same room as each other. It was certainly cause for concern considering Malfoy's abysmal appearance at the moment and Ginny's lack of reaction to that.
Draco held her gaze the entire time Potter was ranting at her. Even though there was a hopeful smile on her lips, tears spilled down her cheeks erratically. He suddenly remembered what he had to tell her. For five years he'd been kicking himself for not speaking up when he'd last had the opportunity. "I love you," he said hoarsely.
A loud defeated moan from Potter faded into background noise as her face lit up like a Christmas tree.
Now that the silence between them had truly been broken, it seemed, to Draco at least, that the world had been put on fast forward. One minute she was standing there smiling at him with her wet face, and the next she was pushing past Potter and launching herself into his arms.
She felt good - right - against his now emaciated frame. Warmth began to fill him and he realized that it was radiating from inside of him for the first time in many years. He breathed in her scent deeply; it was something that had faded in his memory over the years and he'd been unable to recall it, except for in his dreams, where it taunted him mercilessly. It wasn't until his shoulder became wet that Draco noticed her trickle of tears had grown into a veritable torrent.
"Shh, don't cry," he crooned subconsciously into her hair. "Don't, Ginny."
"I-I thought-I'd never-see you-again," she stammered through her tears.
"I'm out now," Draco whispered. "I'll never leave you again, I promise. Never."
She clung to him like she was afraid to let him go, oblivious to the way he must smell or how his robes looked.
Draco continued to croon soothing words into her hair until those words were replaced with soft kisses. A voice in the back of his head told him not to kiss, not yet. He was in a terrible state, and she didn't deserve to have that forced upon her. As her head tilted up to meet his, their lips were suddenly together and she tasted so sweet there was no way he could deny himself any longer.
It didn't last long, the voice in his head winning out eventually, but it was enough for now. As he drew away, she determinedly caught his gray eyes.
"I love you too," she admitted softly.
For the first time in five years Draco Malfoy smiled.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The past eight and half months had passed in a blur of life-changing events. It shouldn't have surprised him that his mind had chosen today, of all days, to remind him of everything that had happened since his release from prison, but it did for some unknown reason. It was silly really, considering he had more important things to focus upon now - like the future.
Just a week after his release Draco planned the first big change in his life. After that everything else just feel into place and he'd been caught up in the whirlwind of change. Not that he minded, though there were times when he'd felt a little dizzy from all that was going on.
His proposal had been less than romantic, but oddly fitting. They had a picnic deep in the woods surrounding the manor, and after making love on a bed of the softest grass, he'd got onto one knee and requested her hand in marriage, still as naked as the day he was born. Of course, she said yes, and he slipped a magnificent diamond ring on her finger. Well, he did eventually. That part didn't exactly go to plan, because when he reached into his nearby cloak he uncharacteristically fumbled the ring, and they'd had to search through the long grass for several minutes before Ginny located it with a delighted squeal.
A few weeks after that it was decided that they should wed as soon as possible, much to the chagrin of several redheaded wizards. So, rather than have an enormous society wedding, the likes of which his mother would have planned, they opted for a low-key affair. They exchanged vows at the Ministry of Magic and then had a quiet dinner with Ginny's family. Afterwards they had returned to Malfoy Manor to begin their life together in earnest. No photographs had appeared in the society pages and only those closest to Ginny were even aware of the event.
Now he was waiting for possibly the most important moment of his life to come to a climax. He knew that everything would change now, and there was no going backwards, no changing his mind or anything else. He and Ginny would be permanently bound together in a way that was far more powerful than their marriage vows. His heart was pounding harder than it had ever. Even in the heat of battle he didn't think he'd ever been this scared, but this was a different sort of terror - this was a fear tinged with great happiness.
"Mr. Malfoy, would you like to hold your son?"
Draco's arms went out of their own volition and a small bundle was deposited gently into them.
"Mind you support his head," the Midwitch warned.
Once the child was in his arms, Draco was too terrified to breathe, let alone move. He peered through the opening at the baby's face. The sleeping infant grimaced a little in his sleep and then settled. A small tuft of downy-soft hair peeked out at the top of the blanket and a smirk tugged at Draco's lips - he was a blond. All he hoped for now was that his son had inherited his mother's warm cinnamon eyes, but only time would tell.
"Are you going to say something?"
Draco looked to his wife, his smirk still playing around his mouth. He'd been mute throughout most of the ordeal, too shocked at the process to even think straight let alone articulate, and even now didn't think he could muster the brain cells to speak coherently.
Ginny was exhausted; he could hear it in her voice, even though her bright smile belied her physical condition. A thought occurred to him as their eyes locked: she was gorgeous. It mattered not that she was pale or that her hair was plastered to head, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. There was only one thing that came to his befuddled mind, only one thing that could express how he felt right now.
"I love you."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes:
Thank you to Rainpuddle13 for her wonderful beta skills.
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