"I am hope." –Neil Gaiman

*

     Pansy Parkinson moves to her balcony early in the morning to watch the city wake up. Blaise is still asleep, so she's quiet, trying not to wake him up. It's been about a year since the war ended. She never thought she'd admit this, but she is so grateful that Harry Potter won. If he'd lost, she would've lost everything; her life would've been even more hellish than it was before.

But now that it's over, the entire Wizarding World is recovering together. The Ministry of Magic is nearly functional again; any veteran of the war gets a job immediately, which includes her and Blaise. They have an apartment and there's nothing they need. Pansy never thought she could be so content with the current state of things.

Pansy spots a familiar blonde, even from twenty floors above the ground. It's definitely Draco—it's the way he walks—and he's with someone else, someone she doesn't recognize. They turn the corner and they're gone, but they were holding hands, which means he found someone who's as cynical as he is.

Familiar arms embrace her from behind; Blaise is awake and has joined her outside.

  "Did I just see Draco turn the corner?" she asks.

"I did, too," he says quietly. He's not a fan of talking in the morning.

"Do you know who he was walking with?"

"I'd assume it was Darcy."

Pansy falters. "Darcy Xenner?"

"That's the one."

"What makes you think that?"

Blaise sighs. "I never told him I figured it out. In our sixth year, y'know how Draco was always disappearing and stuff?" Pansy nods. "He was going to the Room of Requirement to fix a Vanishing Cabinet. That's how the Death Eaters got in that night and killed Dumbledore."

"The Vanishing Cabinet my grandad built and my dad fixed?"

     "Yes, but the twin of it."

     "Well, what's that have to do with Darcy?" Pansy remembers how she almost destroyed her cousin's shop, but she's over it. She hasn't been to Azkaban since—maybe she's called it quits.

"Draco snuck Darcy into the castle to help him fix it since he doesn't know shit about mechanics," Blaise reveals with a snort. "He'd sneak her back out during Hogsmeade visits. I'm guessing they fell in love sometime then."

  "He could've just asked you for help," Pansy reckons. "You know how to fix things."

"He didn't trust me much back then."

Pansy feels a small smile appear the more she thinks about Draco dating Darcy Xenner. "I knew they'd be cute together. I was right. They'd better get married and be happy forever."

Blaise clears his throat. "Speaking of marriage..."

*

     An owl taps at the kitchen window of Draco and Darcy's penthouse apartment. Darcy blinks at it for a few seconds, not completely comprehending what's happening due to the fact that she just woke up and hasn't picked up her wand to make coffee yet. It screeches at her; coming to her senses, she opens the window and takes the wad of letters from it, throwing them carelessly on the counter as she feeds the owl some bread and water.

     "Can wizards stop using owls to deliver everything?" Draco sneers as he enters the room, ready for work. Even after the aftermath of the war about a year ago, he was able to secure a job at the Ministry of Magic. "I've never minded it until last week when they tried to send our imported wine by owl post. The ruddy thing nearly broke the bottles!"

"Hey, Draco, the world is flawed," Darcy says, still half asleep and feeling philosophical. "Let the birds feel needed."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Have some coffee before you start formulating opinions so early."

"You do it."

Draco starts sifting through the mail. "But I've been awake longer."

Darcy frowns at him, sipping her coffee she hastily made and seething when it burns her tongue. Insomnia has been a bad side effect for him ever since the war ended; she's tried everything to help, but mundane problems often ignore the effects of magic.

"This is for you," Draco sets aside a longer envelope for her to look at later. "I have to go. I'll be home early because it's Friday, and I refuse to be there longer than I have to."

Darcy sets her mug down and wraps her arms around him. "Okay."

"Open that letter; I think you'll like the content." Draco kisses her swiftly and Apparates away. Darcy finalizes that she won't be thinking about her future until she finishes her mug of coffee.

Draco and she had moved in together about a month after the war. She'd been looking for an apartment in London for herself now that it was safe to live there again, and Draco tagged along. They went through about six different places before they came across the penthouse. Draco immediately loved it: the style was gothic (much like the Slytherin Common Room), the windows were wall length, and there was a view of the entire city. Darcy loved it, too. When they returned to Malfoy Manor that night, Draco suggested living there together. Darcy thought about it overnight and told him the next morning that they should do it. So they did.

Darcy closes the window once the owl flies off again. She leaves the kitchen to shower and prepare for the day, then opens the letter.

It's from the Ministry of Magic, all official looking with its perfect cursive and watermark. She rips it open, a slit across the top, and pulls out the paper within it.

Dear Madame Xenner,

Due to several accounts of recommendation and appraisal from other Ministry members, I write to you. Despite your history, the wizards and witches here at the Department of Mysteries could use someone of your mindset. In case you don't know, the Department of Mysteries is in charge of most of the research about the Wizarding World and its contents. We'd like your critical thinking and technological skills, even if they were abused in the past. If you are interested, please write back within a week.

           Sincerely,

Kingsley Shacklebolt

      Minister of Magic

Darcy stares at the letter for a long time after she's read it.

From what she's heard in Azkaban, the Department of Mysteries will only hire very specific people for very specific reasons. They're called Unspeakables because they can't tell anyone anything about anything. There are a lot of weird rooms on that floor. They deal with enigmas like time, death, space, and magic itself. Would she want to work there? Darcy decides that if she had to work in the Ministry somewhere, it'd be one of her top choices.

When Draco returns home, she brings it up.

  "Accounts of recommendation," she says first, suspecting that the "other Ministry members" meant him.

Draco meets her gaze. "He wrote to you?"

Darcy hands the letter to him. He reads it, then smiles at her.

  "Yes, accounts of recommendation. You said you wanted a job. I thought I'd try to help. Are you going to take it? I think you should."

"I don't know," she says truthfully. "I can see why they would value someone like me, but..."

  "I think you should take it," Draco says again. "We could go to work together and come home together. We could complain about work together."

Darcy laughs. "I'll think about it overnight, write back tomorrow." She feels herself smile crookedly. "I can't believe someone wants me to work for them."

  "It's not hard to believe," Draco disagrees. "You'd be perfect there. I know you would. You're a genius; don't be so shocked that they could use your help."

"Sorry. Azkaban does that to you."

Draco just kisses her.

*

"Ready?" Draco asks as he straightens his tie. It's Darcy's first day of work in the Department of Mysteries. She's not nervous, just overwhelmed.

"I guess so." Darcy catches her reflection in the mirror. It's so different than the one she saw all last year and the years before that. Her eyes are brighter, her skin isn't so sullen, her once permanent frown lines have lifted; overall, it appears that life has been breathed into her.

"What's wrong?" Draco asks, taking her hands in his.

  "Do you think I'm different than I was a year ago?"

Draco replies instantly. "The Darcy I met in Azkaban is not the same one standing here with me today."

Darcy nods. "I'd say the same for you. But I don't understand how quickly this all happened, how fast we grew up. We're only eighteen for Merlin's sake. I feel like I'm forty."

Draco smiles, resting his forehead on hers.

  "Love does that to you."