The soft breeze blew through the warm June night, serenaded by the crickets and the soft sweep of grasses across the vast lawn behind him. Looking up at the window above him, a warmth briefly filled the chill that had set in as the sun began to drop this evening, an anniversary only he was alive to remember as much as he hadn’t wanted to. Pulling the ceremonial knife from his pocket, he sliced it across his palm, letting the drops fall to the ground beneath him. The pulse of the wards underlied the soft chanting, the words falling from his memory as easily as learning them had been difficult. Dropping the knife to the grass, he fished the small vial from his other pocket, ignoring the flash of pain from his still bleeding palm as he popped it open.
His chant picked up pace as he withdrew the four hairs within. One as fair as his own, with the softest of curls to the end. The next was a chocolate corkscrew that still smelled faintly of cinnamon and parchment. The third was sandy brown and curled once as it lay on his unblemished palm, a whiff of whiskey and clove staining the night air. The final was the same color and baby soft. With a careful movement he brought his hands together, his blood covering all four strands. The magic pulsed sharply as he bent it to his will, his intent clear. A flash of light filled the landscape briefly as the land itself pulsed and when he opened his hands the hairs and wound on his palm were all gone.
Taking a deep breath he steadied himself before stepping quietly back into the Manor, crossing the bright, open living space. He passed a stack of books on the stairs, his lips lifting in a slight smile at the rubber duck perched on top. Moving down the hall, he paused at the door to the nursery, the soft light of magicked stars illuminating the space as they twinkled above the toddler bed and crib in the corner. A soft snuffling had him crossing to look down on the tiny form, sandy brown curls crowning the sweet face of his youngest. Tiny little lips pursed once, then twice, before she resettled. He crossed the room, carefully readjusted the blankets around the little boy who was his clone, in all but those rich caramel eyes that studied everything around him just as his mother’s did.
Slipping silently from the room, he crossed to theirs, the sight before him bringing him to a standstill at the door. Her hair was in its usual wild tangle across the pillow, already escaped from the careful braid he had plaited for her before bed. A sandy head was snuggled into her side, the warm golden skin of the man glinting in the moonlight as he held her close.
They both slept peacefully, feeling safe and protected in a place that had once held so much horror for all of them.
But he had fought, their light the only thing guiding him through the darkness and despair his ancestors had inflicted on this home.
It ended with him.
Still, they didn’t know what depths he would, and had, descended to in order to keep them all safe, these beautiful things that had come into his world when everything else had left. Hermione and Theo’s love had pulled him out of the despair and darkness his father had inflicted on this home and those within. He had fought to redeem both himself and the name he had been born to.
His children, their children, would not wear the same stigma or have to fight the same battles he had. They would be safe from the world, and his actions tonight had ensured that.
Closing his eyes, he reached for the wards, smiling to himself when he felt the warmth of his four reasons for still existing woven within them.
“Draco? Why are you up, love? Is it the baby?” Hermione’s sleepy mumble whispered across the room. Draco stripped quickly, sliding beneath the covers, tucking her gently against his side, grasping Theo’s hand as the other man roused enough to reach for him.
“It’s nothing love. Just making sure the house was secure for the night.” Draco kissed her head and she smiled sleepily before cuddling a bit closer as her breathing evened back out.
He’d fight the world to keep them safe, ready to become the villain his childhood had tried to turn him into. Nothing and no one would take them from him, or they would learn what it really meant to be a Malfoy and under the protection of those ancient wards.
Letting the soft smile at the thought of the destruction that would be wrought if anyone attempted to breach their home, he settled down, finally knowing his family was safe.