As the sun set below the horizon, my son was born. My chest rose and fell with sharp breaths. Tired beyond belief, pain wracking my body, I saw him.

"Look at him," I whispered. "Look at our son." His small hands were curled into tiny fists, and he was looking around the room quizzically. He looked so perfect then, like a baby angel fallen from heaven. Even now, I could see that his features were like those of his father, the same high cheekbones, same pointed nose. His eyes were grey-blue, like an ocean on a stormy day, with the waves breaking close to the shore.

I moved my gaze from my son to his father, and on Lucius' face, I saw something that I'd never seen there before. For that one moment, gone was the indifference and the aristocratic apathy, and in its place was a look of wonder, and, could it be, tenderness? Those grey eyes, usually steely and cold, seemed, for that second, to contain a kind of warmth. For as long as I had known Lucius, he had been a guarded man, and emotion was always, in his mind, little more than a weakness, a tool that others could use to pull your life apart.

And then, as quickly as it had come, Lucius reapplied his mask of indifference; the cold shrewdness returned, making his eyes unexpressionless once more.

"He's a beautiful child," Lucius commented, as unemotionally as ever. "What shall we name him?

I knew that, in the Wizarding world, it was pureblood practice to name a child as soon after birth as possible, so, even though my brain felt too tired to think, I thought for a moment, glancing at the child in my arms. "Draco," I replied at last. "Draco, my little dragon"

"Draco it shall be then," Lucius murmured. He began to say a series of spells, and moved his wand in a complex pattern over my son's head. A small wisp of smoke floated out of the wand, and rose into the air. "Draco Abraxas Malfoy," Lucius enunciated clearly. When he had finished speaking, the smoke flew away, presumably to notify the proper authorities at the Ministry that a child had been born in the Wizarding world, and to inform them of the child's name. "It is done," Lucius stated, returning his wand to the sheath hanging from his waist.

Silence fell upon us three once more. Much as Lucius would deny it, not that I would ever mention it again, I knew what I'd seen.

For as long as I had been married, I had always been resigned to the knowledge that my marriage was little more than a contract, and that my relationship with Lucius would stay cold, clinical, and would exist more out of duty than out of any emotion. But even that one small glimpse of something more in my husband gave me hope. It wouldn't come out often; maybe I would never see it again, but it didn't matter to me. I knew that deep down, buried under the coldness and the sense of societal duty, there was some speck of kindness, some spark of warmth. It would be enough for me; in truth, it was more than I had ever expected. So I would go on with life, and raise my son, and continue to be the perfect pureblood wife. But still, I could keep hoping that someday, I could see sometime in the future what I had seen today.

It was over. Finally, the war that had been tearing us apart for so long was over. I rushed through the masses of people, dead and alive, searching for them, for Draco and for Lucius. I felt disdainful eyes on me, probably wondering what a Malfoy was doing here, wondering why I hadn't fled with all of the Dark Lord's followers. I didn't care. All that mattered to me anymore was having my family back again. Besides, I had just saved Potter's life, so wasn't about to turn me in, I was sure. Ironically, by giving the boy another chance to kill the Dark Lord, I had set into motion both my own freedom, and that of my family. No longer would we be treated like slaves, forced to endanger and humiliate ourselves in order to do his bidding.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucius. He was rushing through the hall, and he had several bleeding cuts on his face and arms.

I ran up to him, grabbed him by the sleeve of his robe, and turned him around to face me. He seemed both shocked and confused, fearful and relieved.

"Lucius," I whispered, "it's over." We both knew, but to say it out loud made it seem more real.

"What do we do?" Lucius asked. His eyes were sunken, and his voice was tired and apathetic. Azkaban had left him like this; that much I knew. Ever since that night two years ago when he had failed the Dark Lord so miserably, I had been the only strength left in our family, the pillar trying desperately to keep the building standing, even when it was crumbling around my feet. I should be disgusted with him for what he did in the Dark Lord's service, should be disappointed in him for following the Dark Lord blindly so many years ago, but I wasn't. He was alive, and for now, that was enough for me.

"We have to find Draco," I whispered, grabbing him by the arm. He could be anywhere, but Potter told me that he's alive."

Lucius nodded, and followed beside me. Together, we searched the castle, calling Draco's name the whole time. Finally, we found him, hiding on a fourth floor room. His blond hair was dirty, and he too was covered in scratches.

"Come on," I murmured. "We have to go."

Silently, my son followed me. Every time I've see him, I wish that he hadn't been forced to go through the ordeals that he had experienced. I remember him when he was just a child, when he still laughed and played and smiled. He was swept into this war far too early, and now, the person whose footsteps followed mine was not the spoiled, prideful child that he had once been, but instead an adult, who had realized that everything he had believed in was not what it had seemed.

As the three of us walked in silence, we turned a corner, and came face to face with Harry Potter, looking triumphant, but tired beyond belief. When he saw the two men following behind me, his eyes narrowed and he began to draw his wand. I held up a hand, and he seemed to notice me for the first time. As Potter's eyes met mine, he loosened his grip on his wand, and stepped a bit closer.

"Why?" he asked, so low that only I could hear. "Why did you help me?"

"That," I hissed, "is none of your concern. I had my reasons, and that is all you need to know. Now, will you let us pass? I give you my word that none of us will harm you."

Potter's gaze darted between Lucius, Draco, and I for a few moments before finally returning his wand to his pocket. "Fine," he spat. " But if I see one wrong move…" His voice drifted off warningly.

"Of course." I inclined my head towards him, and walked on down the hallway.

At last, I allowed myself a smile. Things were bad, but my family was alive, and now we finally had the chance to live our lives. There would be some roadblocks, but we could get past those. I turned to Lucius, and clasped his hand tightly.

"Let's go home," I whispered.

"How?" he asked. "They'll take me, and Draco. How would we leave?" It was a bit strange, really, that my husband, usually so proud and composed, was asking me for guidance and letting me lead the way.

"We'll find a way. Potter owes me a debt, and he's too honorable not to pay it."

He seemed to accept that. Honestly, it was a gamble, but if I couldn't count on a Gryffindor to be noble, than I couldn't count on anything. I may be called immoral for hoping that those who had done so much wrong wouldn't be punished, but I didn't care.

I knew that our family was far from innocent, and I held no delusions that my two broken men would change overnight. But I had hope. We were alive, and that gave us a chance to have happiness at last. After all, I had waited seventeen years, I could wait a little bit longer.