"Are you glad to have the Lupins back in England?"

Harry sipped his mead and nodded, a distant look in his eyes. "I would be even happier if they sent Quentin and Barry home."

"Isn't Barry talking, now?"

"Yeah. Quentin is, too. The Healers say they're not ready to go back home yet, though."

"They will be, though. They've been recovering much better than we expected."

"You're optimistic."

"Something no one will ever accuse you of being." Draco, sprawled comfortably in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, raised his mead to the firelight. "I love this colour," he sighed.

"You are so pathetic."

"And engaged. Don't forget engaged."

"Like you'd let me."

Draco smiled, his eye sparkling with relaxation and good humour. "Quentin and Barry are getting better, we got a letter from Ferris and Felicity, you and Ginny are back together for good, I'm engaged and well-off—"

"You could have been fabulously wealthy instead."

"Please. Cousin Dora is just as much Bellatrix's heir as I am, and she deserved to have it. Anyway, continuing the optimism . . . your kids are happy—not to mention asleep and not trying to talk me to death right now—and Ran's happy, the Lupins are here and ready to get back to work—everything's going so well."

"I know. Something awful's bound to happen any minute."

Draco ignored him, his lazy smile still in place. "Not to mention Zacharias Smith intentionally proving he's a git, Rosemary Carthy's career in tatters, Kingsley sworn in as Minister, and you appointed head of your department."

"I had nothing to do with any of that," Harry said.

"On the record."

"Of course."

Thanks so much for reading Brothers and Sons, to the bitter end, and I hope you enjoyed it enough to read the next installment of the series, entitled A Foreign Language. Happy reading!