Chapter Text
The first few years after the end of the Kaiju War were not easy. In fact, they were some of the hardest years Draco had ever lived through, but for entirely different reasons than the twenty years that preceded them.
First, he had to adjust to life as a disabled man. The final battle to seal the breach had left his left arm entirely useless; the numbness that had once only traveled to a few of his fingers had spread all the way up to his elbow, with more tendrils reaching up to his shoulder every year. More than once he had considered just lopping the whole thing off, but couldn’t bear to part with it. He had lost so much of himself already, choosing to rid himself of an entire arm was too much to bear.
Second, only bits and pieces of their magic had been restored. Once the Kaiju were gone, most of the wizarding community had expected it to return in a single triumphant burst, allowing them to go back to their lives as usual. Destroying the scale in the process had put a damper on that plan.
It seemed like every day, something new had come back. One day, it was the ability to summon an item from across a very narrow room. The next, Draco could heat the kettle with only a lazy flick of his wand, but the magic was finicky, and he had to be careful or his tea was hot enough to burn through anything it touched within seconds. But then the magic would plateau for weeks or months at a time until one day he was able to start a small fire, or lock the door from his chair. The day he was finally able to Apparate from one room to the next was worthy of celebration.
Third, the nightmares. Every night for the first few years, he’d awake screaming every hour, dreaming that he was back in the breach. It hadn’t affected him so harshly while he was there, his mind solely focused on the task at hand and not the horrors just beyond Viper’s hull, but the beady eyes of the Kaiju seemed to follow him everywhere while he slept. Sometimes, when the nights were quiet and everyone was asleep, he swore he could hear the hum of their hivemind coming from the shadows.
Some days, it was easier just not to sleep at all. Others, he took to sleeping potions, Muggle anxiety medications, alcohol, whatever it took to keep the nightmares at bay. After over a year of this, he had returned to the same state he had been after the death of his father, a walking, scowling zombie, though as soon as the sun was up, and he felt his love’s arms wrapped around him, he was able to right himself again.
Having Hermione there with him was the only thing that kept him going. He wouldn’t have survived the final battle without her, and he wouldn’t have been able to stomach a future if she hadn’t been there right by his side the whole time.
Fourth, adjusting to life with Hermione. That was the hardest part of all.
They were heroes, nobody could deny that. After word spread about the Ministry and the Muggles’ plan to harness the scale for their own gains, there had been riots in the streets for weeks, calling for Shacklebolt’s head on a platter. He compromised with a swift and easy resignation, disappearing into the mountains never to be seen or heard from again.
Draco may or may not have spread the rumor, though he’d never confirm it aloud.
Within days of Shacklebolt’s resignation, Hermione had been volunteered for the position. She was, after all, the sole surviving hero of the Second Wizarding War, and one of two living Jaeger pilots who had ended the Kaiju War. She built her platform on fighting for the working class witches and wizards, for the underserved creatures and Muggles and Muggleborns who had previously had no say in the matter, against any form of oppression that seemed to threaten their way of life.
It didn’t matter that she ran unopposed. Nobody dared try to run against her when word spread that she was taking the public’s word seriously.
She hadn’t wanted to become Minister for Magic. She’d wanted to retire to a life of quiet solitude, of peace and tranquility, somewhere with huge bay windows and the smell of salt in the air. She wanted to sink into obscurity, to become just another name among a list of names; but, the public wouldn’t let that happen.
The Golden Girl, turned half of the Pilots Who Saved the World, now Minister for Magic. As much as she hated the monikers, Draco thought they suited her. If nothing else, it was fun to tease her with them, to remind her that obscurity was only afforded to those who couldn’t or wouldn’t make a name for themselves. She had lost that privilege years ago.
She didn’t have as much trouble adjusting to regular life as he did. She busied herself with work almost immediately, jumping straight into saving the world in other ways. Anyone else would have taken time off to stop and smell the roses, but she seemed completely incapable of doing such a thing. Why merely smell the roses, when she could ensure their continued survival for generations to come? Her altruism knew no bounds. She lived for others in everything she did. The only time she was selfish was when it came to Draco, keeping him close whenever she could, and he didn’t mind one bit.
Her nightmares weren’t as frequent as his, and only a fraction as scary, so she claimed. All it took to calm her in the night was knowing he was by her side; just the sound of his heart beating against his chest was enough to remind her what she had fought for, and what she continued to live for, and would lull her back to sleep almost instantly.
Draco missed her while she was away, more than he could ever express, and when she returned at the end of a long day at the Ministry, drained and ready to give up, he kept her going. His only job was keeping her happy, and he was Employee of the Month, every month. He doted on her hand and foot, ensuring she never wanted for anything long. He owed her that much, and she deserved it. She was the anchor that kept him from being washed into the surf, and he was the support she needed to keep saving the world, one orphan at a time. Together, they were unstoppable.
They wed in a quiet, intimate ceremony only a few months after the end of the war. There was no question that it was the right choice; they were mad for each other, dependent on each other, bonded despite the destruction of the scale. Every time they kissed, he tasted magic on her lips, and felt the crackle of it in the air between them. Whether it was real or not, he didn’t care, as long as she was by his side.
Draco had tried to adjust to life as a normal bloke, but it suited him about as much as it suited her. Within weeks he was bored, pacing around the house they shared on a hill overlooking the sea and finding himself wishing, more than anything, that he could take his old Jaeger out for one final spin. Once his nightmares started to eat away at his waking hours, Hermione suggested getting back in a Jaeger, to see if they were a manifestation of his feeling of helplessness without Viper. He didn’t protest.
Viper Echo was never recovered, lost forever to the breach, but over the years, he acquired enough spare parts and Jaegers decommissioned from other programs to build his own replacement. The parts were easy enough to gather, given his reputation, and there were always mechanics and engineers from the various programs looking for a new job. It helped keep him busy while Hermione was at the Ministry, and it gave him something to look forward to.
To him, it was nothing more than a hobby, and maybe a bit of self-soothing, but to the rich witches and wizards—and, to his surprise, Muggles—who lined his pockets for the task, it was assurance. The breach may have been sealed, and the Kaiju defeated, but who could say if they’d ever return? Nobody knew for certain. Having a fleet of Jaegers, each with their own dedicated pilots, helped put the public’s mind at ease, even if they were only used to stoke the program head’s nostalgia and help him sleep better at night.
It took two years to build Viper Reverb, and another year after that before it was fully functional, but once it appeared splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet after a poorly concealed test run, things started to move more quickly. Endeavor Dusk was finished six months after that, and within another six months, five more Jaegers were in production all across the globe. The Russians started building their own team in tandem, and soon there were makeshift Shatterdomes popping up in every large coastal city along the Pacific.
He was offered more jobs than he could count all around the world. Each new base needed a commander, and each new yard needed a head engineer, one who knew the Jaegers inside and out. As the most decorated and celebrated Jaeger pilot in history, he was uniquely qualified and highly sought after. One years’ salary was enough to replenish the Malfoy family vaults of every Galleon they funneled into the war effort over the years and thensome. Yet he turned them all down without a second thought; he had seen enough war, lost enough friends to battle, for one lifetime. His days of using the Jaegers for combat was over. Now, he just wanted to have a little fun.
His first run in Viper Reverb took some adjustment. Hermione had been hesitant to get back in a Jaeger, citing her reputation as Minister for Magic as a reason to stay out of the cockpit, but it only took a few minutes of gentle insistence before she gave in. Draco couldn’t imagine drifting with anyone else, and never wanted to again. He would either go with her, or not at all.
“You’re stuck with me, remember?” he said with a smirk as they suited up for the first time in nearly three years.
“I wish you’d stop saying that,” she replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “You make it sound like I never had any choice in the matter.”
“Did you? I know I’m very hard to resist…”
“Draco.”
“Yes, my love?”
She didn’t reply, shaking her head with a chuckle as she slipped her helmet over her plait and took her controls. She didn’t need to say anything at all. He already knew.
As different as Viper Reverb was, drifting with Hermione and setting out into the sea felt like going home. He had never felt more powerful, more alive, than in a Jaeger. In Viper Echo, he could fight a hurricane, and win; in Viper Reverb, the only thing he fought was himself, and that was just fine by him. The first run was clunky, and awkward, but that night was the first in which he slept without the burden of nightmares since the breach was sealed.
It was the only therapy that worked for him, to keep him level after what he had gone through. Even Hermione noticed how much of a positive effect it had on him, and soon relented; every Saturday, just after dawn, the teams would get together at the Shatterdome and take Viper Reverb out for a spin. Just a quick jaunt into the sea, under the guise of collecting data from the sealed breach that hadn’t shown any activity in years. Afterward, he and Hermione would spend the rest of the weekend together, just the two of them shut away from the world, tucked away in their home by the sea reading next to open windows and watching the sunset over the water.
The rest of his time was spent tinkering, adding new features to the Jaeger and researching and experimenting when things didn’t go his way. It kept him busy enough that he was able to go to bed tired every night, so tired that even on days he didn’t get to pilot his Jaeger, the nightmares were gone.
In the months after the war, Hermione had gone back to the Shatterdome to collect her research, to clear the lab of any sensitive information. What she discovered broke her heart; boxes upon boxes of Theo’s research and notes, neatly labeled and packed away. Information about the Kaiju she had never even considered, suggestions for battle strategies that were never implemented, and even new ways of designing Jaegers that would have saved countless pilots’ lives. There was even a file about soul bonds—Draco and Hermione’s in particular—that went into great detail, reminding them of everything they had gone through to get where they were now.
Theo was a researcher, not a pilot—just as Hermione had been—but volunteered to get in a Jaeger anyway, despite the risks. He had been terrified beyond belief, understanding that he would never return home. He wasn’t a warrior, but he deserved the honor as much as the rest of the pilots, if not moreso. He was the bravest man they ever knew.
His research was promptly given to Draco, with the strict instruction to try every single improvement listed. Some were duds, ideas best left in the boxes; others could have changed the trajectory of the war, if only they had trusted him enough to try them.
She kept the battered old copy of Tales for Magickal Children in her bedside table. Sometimes, when the memories were strong and the days were tiring, she had Draco read them to her aloud, sitting next to the open window that overlooked the sea. The story of the Celestial Scale was always her favorite.
There was strife, of course. One of the many things they were never taught in the program was the long term effects of being a pilot and exposure to both the Jaegers and Kaiju. After all, the average life expectancy of a pilot was measured in weeks to months, not years. It explained why McGonagall was so eager to get back in a Jaeger and sacrifice herself for the cause; she wouldn’t have survived much longer anyway, given the poor radiation shields in the first generations of Jaegers. The knowledge hurt, but also gave them a semblance of peace with her death. At least she died fighting, instead of wasting away in the hospital wing.
Four years after the war was over, it was learned that both he and Hermione had been rendered infertile, sterilized by radiation and chemicals. It was devastating, to say the least; Hermione cried for weeks at the news. If they had been able to implement Theo’s suggestions during the war, maybe it wouldn’t have ended up that way. Regrets were many, and ran deep.
But six months later, they adopted their first and only child, one that had been orphaned by two wars and left in the care of family by his parents, who had been heroes in their own right. Teddy Lupin, the spitting image of both of his parents at nearly fifteen years old, finally had a permanent home with them. He joined Draco in his tinkering whenever he was home from Hogwarts, though he was expressly forbidden from piloting his own Jaeger until after his twenty-first birthday.
At least when Hermione was around to notice.
Draco built him a Jaeger of his own, one small and simple enough that a single pilot was able to handle the neural load. Teddy took to it like a fish to water. If any elephant-sized Kaiju ever came back through the breach, Draco knew exactly which pilot he’d call to the front lines first, though he hoped it never came to that.
Statues were erected in their honor across the world. The pilots from Viper Echo, Endeavor Dawn, and Arcane Sentinel were especially celebrated, their sacrifices paving the way for Viper to end it all, though those they had lost along the way—Harry, Ron, Lucius, Pansy, the Greengrasses, Moody, and countless others—were also honored as fallen heroes. Every January, on the anniversary of the final battle, people cheered and celebrated, lighting off fireworks and remembering the day that six ordinary pilots looked the apocalypse in the face and told it, Not today.
It was proof that no matter the obstacle, no matter the odds, that humanity could pull together to defeat anything. Their status as witches and wizards was only known to the wizarding community, but they became legends to the Muggles as well, a status so rare that Draco and Hermione rarely ventured into the Muggle world for fear of being mobbed by hordes of screaming, appreciative fans.
They spoke at Hogwarts, and at the Ministry, and at every school and organization that invited them. Draco would have rather fought a Kaiju barehanded than speak in front of a crowd, but seeing the joy on people’s faces, and hearing their stories of how they had been affected during the war, made it all worth it. These were the people he had fought and nearly died for. Not just Hermione, or his fellow pilots, but the people who were too young, or too sick, or too weak to fight. It humanized the war in a way that nothing else could. It made him finally feel like the hero they claimed him to be.
Life wasn’t perfect, but it was life. Each day they lived was in honor of their fallen friends, and the prices they all paid to get there. For two pilots who had never been guaranteed a future, who had been told that they’d need to make the ultimate sacrifice and never blinked, it was more than they could have ever asked for.