A/N: I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who stuck with me through the very long absence half way through this story. I honestly never thought I'd come back to it and when I did it was wonderful how many of you returned with me! I do hope my return wasn't a disappointment and you enjoyed how the story unfolded.

Chapter 93

Epilogue

The west wing of Malfoy Manor was very different to how it had been when Draco was a little boy. As an only child he couldn't make much noise on his own, besides, his mother frowned at too much noise but Luna had no such misgivings, which Draco found rather odd considering how quiet she was, drifting through life like a colourful gentle dream.

The noise was too much, and with a sigh, Draco gave up with his potions formula, tucking the parchment into the book to mark his space and dropping the book onto the coffee table. The room he occupied had once been Rodolphus old room, but was now the family parlour. It still bore the memories of Rodolphus occupation; taking pride of place on the wall, in the same way Potter had graced the ceiling of Luna's old bedroom, was a painting of Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, they were flanked by Esperanza and Bellatrix. On the opposite wall were paintings of Lucius, Narcissa, Xenophilius, Luna and himself. The walls had been a labour of love for Luna, she said she had wanted her son to be able to look upon the faces of those who loved him even if they were no longer around, and she simply couldn't leave Bellatrix out; she was family after all.

Beneath the portraits of Rodolphus and Rabastan was a glass display case secured by magic. In the case sitting upon red velvet cushions were the wands of the Lestrange brothers. They were a source of pride for Luna, knowing each wand had, in the end, been raised against evil.

Crossing to the door, Draco's eyes fell on the shelving unit where Luna liked to keep her favourite books and the ones he used for work. Amongst the books was a very special book. Following her articles in The Quibbler telling the stories of Professor Snape, Dean Thomas and Harry Potter; Luna had, just as a way of getting things clear in her own mind, wrote the story of her own family. It was only supposed to be a therapeutic exercise for her, but Draco had started to read it, and even though he knew the story, he had found himself engrossed. Luna had a way of telling a story, even on paper, which was thrilling and engaging. Draco had been thoroughly thrilled and engaged; and so had the world. He'd arranged for the manuscript to be sent to a publisher, after all, if they had been willing to publish the complete and utter rubbish written by Gildroy Lockhart they surely would jump at a book like this. The publishers had jumped, and after Luna had tactfully edited out Lucius and Esperanza's affair so as not to humiliate Narcissa and Xenophilus and also removed the truth of how she and Draco had come to be married, she worried it might embarrass their children as they grew up; My Family of Death Eaters; the story of the Lestrange brother's was told. It had been a best seller as Draco had predicted, everyone wanted to know about Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and any intimate details of the inner circle of Death Eaters. There was, as Xenophilius observed, voyeurism in everyone, especially when it came to taboo subjects.

Potter had then discovered Rita Skeeter planned on releasing an unauthorised biography about him. He had taken legal action against her and asked Luna to write the authorised one instead. It had been the second time Luna had beaten Rita Skeeter to a good story and rumour had it she had not been very graceful in her defeat.

Luna still wrote for The Quibbler, but it didn't dampen her credibility as a serious author. In fact, Draco felt it just added to the intrigue of Luna Malfoy.

Leaving the room, Draco made his way down the corridor towards the noise. The door to the nursery stood open and Draco leant against the doorframe observing the brightly coloured room with the high arching windows; Luna liked rooms with lots of light. Animals of all descriptions graced the walls, some real and others which could only be figments of Xenophilius imagination. Still, Luna was very much the sort of mother who insisted on feeding her children's minds with all manner of possible and improbable things, so the animals stayed.

The room was in a tumult as usual; toys were strewn everywhere, bubbles danced through the air and rainbows kept appearing and disappearing across the window pane.

Six year old Rodolphus was hovering just above the ground on his very first broom. He clung tightly to it, wobbling a little. "Watch me, mummy!"

As he had grown, Rodolphus had kept his resemblance to his father, although the same dreamy look could creep into his eyes which Luna always had in hers. He was more like Luna than he was like Draco, enjoying painting and creating and anything to do with animals.

"I'm watching, darling." Luna looked up from a game of exploding snap. Her fingers absently twisted the pendant hanging around her neck. It had been more difficult than she had anticipated to be parted from Rodolphus and Rabastan. Instead of laying them to rest in the Lestrange family burial plot, she'd had them cremated, their ashes mixed together and sealed into a pendant she now never took off. Luna said she liked to keep them close to her heart.

"It's your turn, mummy." Five year old Scorpius Draco Malfoy frowned across at her, waiting for her to take her turn.

It had startled Draco just how like him Scorpius was; he was almost an exact replica, from his platinum blonde hair to the way he sulked when he didn't have Luna's full attention. Scorpius was his father through and through; spoiled, arrogant and sometimes a complete pain in the backside, just as Draco knew he had been growing up. As young as he was, Draco saw the manipulative Malfoy streak emerging now and again in his son and he did all he could to stamp it out, determined Scorpius would not be the same little boy he had been; one who was surrounded by people but without any real friends.

In the corner of the room, absorbed in their own little game were the twins, four year old Lorcan Lucius Malfoy and Lysander Xenophilius Malfoy. Alike as two peas in a pod, they too were the image of Draco, all except their eyes; wide spaced like their mother's but sharper than Luna's could ever be. Not for the twins the genteel blood of the Foxworth's as was in Rodolphus, or the cultivated blood of the Malfoy's as was so obvious in Scorpius; in the twins ran the wild blood of the Lestrange brothers. Even at four years old they were daring and reckless and utterly without fear.

Luna loved her boys equally, but Draco knew Lorcan and Lysander held a special place with her; for sometimes it felt like she had Rodolphus and Rabastan back.

Rodolphus had been the only child they had planned, although they had done nothing to prevent the others from coming. It was after the twins were born when Luna had asked if he specifically wanted a daughter or if he was content to stop at four. Draco, proud of his four perfect son's had been happy to stop at four, but if Luna had wanted twenty children he'd have given them to her, because he loved her so completely, his life goal was to make her happy.

Luna suddenly caught sight of him and she smiled. Rising gracefully she picked her way through the discarded toys to greet him. Her arms slipped around his waist. "Rodolphus and Scorpius are going to stay with daddy tonight and your parents are going to look after the twins."

"Are we going somewhere?"

"We haven't been to Italy for ages. I thought it would be nice."

"It will be," he agreed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'll get you all to myself for a change."

"Hum." She brushed a kiss along his jaw. "Spectrespecs, Draco."

A slow smirk touched his lips, eyes brightening and then darkening, she knew how to drive him crazy with want and longing. The spectrespecs still enflamed his desire and she would wear them for him every so often, sometimes as a surprise and other times, like now, she would whisper the word in his ear and he'd be distracted all day waiting for the inevitable moment the spectrespecs would make their appearance and he'd get his hands on her. She could be quite the tease, his little minx of a wife.

"Spectrespecs, huh?"

She nodded, looking gravely up at him. "I fear you may have an infestation of wrackspurts, but of course, I can't be sure until I carry out an extremely thorough check."

His grave expression matched hers. "How thorough are we talking?"

"I'm afraid it may take all weekend." Her eyes danced even as she managed to keep her expression sombre.

A wicked grin curled Draco's lips. "Well, when it comes to wrackspurts, it's better to be safe than sorry. "

Fin