REBEL

EPILOGUE

A/N: You may remember this from EXIT: for the perfect reading experience, I recommend re-reading the prologue beforehand. You will not regret it! ♡

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Epilogue
Prospects

Two Weeks Later

"And you're sure you want to live at the Manor?"

She rolls onto her side, cuddling up to him and rubbing his bare chest.

"It makes sense on so many levels, especially when the only other option is for it to sit empty and rot. Your mother doesn't want it and you're the only heir. No one will buy it from you either, because who on earth has that many galleons to spare?"

Draco frowns deeply.

"I could flog it for ten Galleons," he suggests.

"Don't be silly," she replies, the corners of her mouth quirking.

"But for you in particular, it's associated with so many terrible memories," he sighs, giving her a skeptical look from the corner of his eye.

Hermione lets out an incredulous snort.

"For me?" she echoes. "And what about you?"

Draco shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't care where I live. All that matters to me is that you feel comfortable."

"There you go. And I feel comfortable wherever you are."

At that, he doesn't say another word.

When Hermione casts a glance at his face, she discovers one of those heartbreakingly contented smiles. Some days, she still can't believe she's the reason for them.

"Besides, the house has huge potential," she says quickly, before doing something as stupid as once again telling him that she loves him, because that would be the fourth time today and there's really no need to totally overdo it, right? "We could use it for so many things."

"All right," Draco replies, amused. "What do you have in mind?"

One Year After The War
 
The ring sparkles in so many different colors that it makes her dizzy.

"Draco," she whispers breathlessly, before looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

He looks nervous and that alone is enough for Hermione to work out what the new piece of jewelry on her finger means.

It's difficult to comprehend that this is her new reality, because it's a schoolgirl's dream come true. Quite literally. It might even be too sweet and too corny if Draco didn't promptly start arguing with her in his usual manner about why he won't tolerate any dissent on the matter.

But those days are over. These days, she knows exactly why he sometimes reacts so defensively and she no longer allows herself to be deceived by it. So she makes him ask his question instead of just half-heartedly hinting at it. And of course she immediately says yes.

That's what you get, she thinks gleefully as Draco presses his lips to hers in relief. You chose me. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

Two Years After The War

It's not just lust, it's a different state of being.

Hermione has had sex with Draco in all sorts of situations and places. But whatever she thought she liked best bears no relation to being shagged by him in her own wedding dress. In the fresh air, under a burning sun, in the Manor's maze and before the wedding ceremony. Naturally.

She curses and shivers, keens and whimpers, gasps and pants, encourages and begs. She probably even whispers a few obscenities in his ear, but she is no longer able to control it. And she moans. She moans and moans and moans until she fears that the first wedding guests, who are arriving at this very moment, might hear her.

Eventually, it's over. She blinks through a veil of sexual satisfaction.

"Fuck," Draco mutters against her lips as he gradually softens inside her. "Fuck, you're so bloody perfect."

While he performs a perfunctory Scourgify, Hermione straightens his bow tie and pushes his dress shirt back into his neatly pressed suit trousers.

"You do realize that the groom isn't actually allowed to see the bride until she walks down the aisle, right?" she chuckles, arching an eyebrow.