A Jersey

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/23798797.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Ron
Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy, Ginny Weasley
Additional Tags: Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, I've been
told this wearing a jersey thing is very non-british and ruined it for some
people on ffn, So this is just for the americans i guess, the only nation
that is horny over athletes
Language: English
Collections: Good Potterhead Shit, Top Tier Harry Potter Fiction, Finished,
Peak!Dramione, NeedToDownload, R, hp stories, Dramioneotp, HP
favoritos, Cute Dramione Fics I must not forget, Dermione I like to
remember, my heart is here, Dramione Favourites, the best girl
Stats: Published: 2020-04-23 Completed: 2021-06-22 Words: 60,430 Chapters:
23/23
 A Jersey
by tealitful

Summary

All she wanted was a jersey and a little revenge. Now rated M for Mmmmmmmaybe a tad
more than tubular. You've heard of porn without plot? Well, this is fluff without plot!

Translated into:
Indonesian by Niniraven22 https://archiveofourown.org/works/34407874/chapters/85626943
Russian by LunaMES https://ficbook.net/readfic/13114867

Translation into Bahasa Indonesia available: [Restricted Work] by Niniraven22

 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“I want revenge.”

“Here here, sister! But how do you plan on getting it?” Ginny asked before shoving a fork
full of eggs and something or other into her mouth. She had been trying to get Hermione to
vent for almost a month, and she wasn’t going to let a little thing like brunch get in the way
of it.

Hermione stacked her empty bowl on top of her empty plate and threw the shredded
remnants of straw wrapping into the dish. It was such a simple thing, but it was so organized.
Her life had been simple and organized before Ron had destroyed that.

“I don’t know. How do you get revenge on the man you imagined spending your life with
before he bloody ruined everything by cheating on you?”

A couple of seconds passed with nothing but the sound of coffee spoons hitting the sides of
cups and the innate chatter of strangers ‘catching up’ to be heard. Ginny took another bite or
two of her… was it an omelette? Hermione thought it was probably an omelette. She hadn’t
been there when Ginny ordered, though, and this was a rather uppity breakfast place so she
couldn’t be sure.

“You could date someone way better than him. That’s a win-win for you, hun! Someone who
makes Ron realize you aren’t hung up on him who also helps you move on,” Ginny said. She
scrapped at the practically nonexistent bits on her plate.

Hermione shook her head.

Ginny sighed. “We could kill him?”

“Ginevra!” Even if Hermione knew it was only a joke, an eavesdropper could quote it as
anything but. If there was anything Hermione had learned in the years since the war it was
that there was always someone willing to say anything for their fifteen minutes of fame and a
reporter willing to believe them.

Ginny didn’t care.

“I’m just saying, I have a bunch of brothers. No one’s going to care if one goes missing.”

Hermione threw her napkin (folded neatly into a small triangle) at Ginny. “I don’t want to
physically maim anyone,” Ginny made a disappointed grunt. Hermione swirled her coffee
mug (in a dignified manner cultivated from her brief stint in divination class) so that the tiny
bit of coffee that remained reacquainted itself with the creamer that had settled at the bottom.

“But mental maiming is fine, yeah?”

“Maybe not maiming, but,” Hermione drank the last of her lukewarm coffee with a grimace
as she thought of how to phrase her next words, “I wouldn’t mind giving Ron a good upset.
Merlin knows he’s easy enough to anger, but I want him to really hurt, you know. I want him
to feel like he’s been betrayed, you know?”

Hermione didn’t bother asking if that made her an awful person. She knew it didn’t. Perhaps
there were people much better than her that could let it go, but she felt almost certain that it
was more common to want some form of revenge. It’s not like she wanted someone to die or
anything. She just wanted him to feel as upset and betrayed as she had when she walked into
their shared bedroom after a long day at work to see the bare tits of his reverse cow girled
tart. Maybe then he wouldn’t hurt someone else.

Ginny, still eating (as she always seemed to be during quidditch season), nodded in
understanding. Being her brother didn’t me she was automatically on his side, as she’d
stressed several times to Hermione.

“You know, the last time I saw Ron feel like that was when the Chudley Cannons rejected
him and recruited Malfoy. He swore up and down it was Malfoy’s fault somehow.”

Hermione laughed. She remembered that day. She’d come home to a pile of orange sports
paraphernalia in the center of the living room that Ron was determined had to burn. Malfoy
had made the team as the seeker and Ron had been rejected as keeper, but somehow Ron had
reasoned Malfoy had stolen his spot. To be rejected by a team you’d loved since infancy was
one thing, but to see your childhood nemesis on the team was another. Hermione almost felt
bad for him then. Now she was glad she didn’t.

“You’re all still going to Chudley Cannons versus Pride of Portsmouth game on Saturday,
yeah?”

Ginny nodded, finally pushing her empty plate away. “Yes, and you are too.”

“Ginny-”

“No, Hermione, you are! You broke up with one Weasley, not all of us. You’re breaking my
mother’s heart, you know.”

Ah, sweet guilt: a Weasley’s favorite bargaining tool.

“It just doesn’t feel right, Gin. It’s one thing to stop by the Burrow when I know Ron won't
be there, but it’s another to show up to his family outing where I know he’ll be.”

Ginny sighed. They’d have this conversation before, and she was getting sick of it. “What are
we to you, then? Aren’t we family? After everything we’ve been through, we’re family.
You’ll go with us to the match. We can even get you some ugly orange shirt to make Ron
mad.”

Hermione couldn’t help but marvel at Ginny’s ability to put things in a way that left no room
for argument or compromise. The waiter refilled their coffee cups and Hermione added her
cream and sugars. She ran through all of her excuses, but she knew none of them would
work. She’d have to give in. She’d wanted the next time she met Ron to be just vengeful
enough for closure, but she supposed supporting the Cannons would have to do.

“Might as well shove me in a Cannon’s jersey with Malfoy’s name across the back. If you’re
going to make me sit with my ex and watch a sport I don’t even like, you might as well make
the torture complete.”

Ginny sat up a little straighter. “Well, there’s an idea.”

Hermione nearly choked on her coffee. That was a dangerous look. “An idea, yes, but let’s
not get carried away here.”

“I’m just saying that if you really want to do revenge the boring-”

“Non-violent.”

“way, then you might as well take what we know upsets him and use it against him. Malfoy
and the Chudley Cannons: throw them in a cauldron and you get the perfect potion for an
angry Ronald.”

“But is it worth sacrificing my pride?” Hermione asked. Was it worth all the stories that
would come out in the papers when they saw a war heroine with the name of her enemy
stitched across her shoulders?

Not to mention Malfoy himself. They’d managed a civil final year at Hogwarts together, but
they’d only ever met in passing with some friendly, light bickering since. Still, each meeting
had reassured Hermione that while he might have grown out of his awful prejudices, he’d not
grown out of his ego. Perhaps it was because he’d been prepped for discrimination from age
3 or 4, but he’d been pampered since birth.

“You can sacrifice your pride for, at most, a month’s backlash in some trash reporting and
experience the sweet taste of revenge on your tongue, or you can maintain your pride and
continue to taste only the boring state of discontent that you’ll be experiencing for at least
another year. The choice is yours.”

Hermione paid the check.

---

“They’re out?”

“They’re out.”

“How are they out?”

“Malfoy’s a popular player.”

Hermione what sure if she should laugh or gag at that. She thought she might have done both.
“Malfoy’s popular with people outside of his limited social circle?”
“We’re not in school anymore,” Ginny said, “And Malfoy is a hot and – and please don’t ever
tell anyone I said this – a good seeker. The perfect mix of ingredients for a fanbase.”

“So you’re fine with me telling people you find Malfoy attractive so long as I don’t mention
that you – a quidditch player – believe that he – also a quidditch player – is good at his
chosen profession?”

“Hey, when’s the last time you saw Malfoy?”

“I don’t know. Some charity event about half a year ago, probably. Does it matter?”

Ginny took Hermione’s arm and led her out of the store. “Did you talk?”

“No? Malfoy and I aren’t exactly friends.”

“So you probably weren’t standing very close to him?”

“You’re coming off a bit like a blunt quill, Gin.”

“What?”

“No point, and kind of making a mess of things.”

Ginny pinched Hermione’s upper arm. When Hermione had stopped swearing off the pain,
Ginny went on. “Well if you weren’t very near him, you wouldn’t be able to see just how
much he’s changed since school.”

Hermione had seen his photograph plenty in the Daily Prophet, so she felt she knew well
enough how he’d changed. Hell, she’d seen so many posters in the quidditch shop just a
moment ago, she could probably draw an excellent likeness of him. If she could draw, that is.
“Sure Gin. Fair enough.”

Ginny smiled again; the same dangerous smile she’d had at the cafe. Her hands tightened
around Hermione’s arm in a vice, and Hermione was afraid she was going to be pinched
again. “I’ve just had an excellent idea, though. A two birds with one stone type of idea. You
love those. Very efficient.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “You know I don’t agree to vague ideas, Ginny.”

“Well,” Ginny started, pulling Hermione in the direction of an apparition point, “we can get
you a Malfoy jersey to make Ron mad, and you can see for yourself that Malfoy is hot and
I’m not crazy. Oh, and I can smack talk him before our game next month. Three birds one
stone, Hermione! That’s even more efficient than two!”

It took Hermione a minute to process. “You’re not suggesting I get a Malfoy jersey from
Malfoy?”

“Well we know he’s certainly not out of them, now is he?”

“Ginny-” before Hermione could object, Ginny wrapped her arm around Hermione’s waist
and side-alonged them both to an apparition point just outside the garish orange stadium of
the Chudley Cannons.

Ginny pulled Hermione towards the security guard sitting by the entrance.

“Miss Weasley! Come to start a fight with Chang again?”

Ginny laughed. “No, that can wait until next month. I wouldn’t mind a little bit of trash
talking, though.”

“Wait, Cho Chang? Why would you be fighting with Cho?” Hermione felt like she was
starting a tv show in the middle of the season.

“Just some good, clean trash talking between chasers,” Ginny said. “Very professional.”

“I thought Cho was a seeker, though.”

“There’s only one seeker and one alternate seeker per team. Spots are hard to come by, so a
lot of school seekers end up switching positions if they can’t find a seeker position but still
want to play professionally. Cho is actually the Cannons’ alternate seeker as well as a
chaser.”

“Oh.” Hermione didn’t really know what else to say. She didn’t really care about the logistics
of quidditch and team politics.

Ginny turned her attention back to the security guard, “Chuck, could you get Malfoy to come
out here for just a minute? Tell him Hermione needs to speak with him about something.”

Somehow Hermione didn’t think that the prospect of talking to her would really motivate
Malfoy, but Chuck seemed to think otherwise and turned to send off a patronus message
(which Hermione thought was overkill, but Ginny explained as ‘sending a message while
maintaining his post’).

Nearly 10 minutes later, Hermione was ready to leave. Malfoy clearly wasn’t coming out.
She couldn’t blame him, either. They weren’t friends, so what could she need from him. Hell,
he might just think it was a prank. She was just about to tell Ginny as much, when he
appeared and proved her wrong.

And he proved Ginny right. Very right.

Hermione swallowed the lump that was growing in her throat. “Malfoy, thank you for
meeting with us.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at the formal tone, and Malfoy smirked. “What is this, a sponsorship
meeting? You’re speaking much to formal for someone who just pulled me out of practice
without notice.”

Hermione had the decency to blush where Ginny didn’t. “Malfoy, Hermione needs your
jersey.”
“Ginny! You can’t just lead with that!”

“My jersey?”

Ginny sighed, “Hermione, I somehow don’t think Malfoy would believe you and I came to
exchange pleasantries. Best get to the point. He has practice to get back to. Not that his team
stands a chance against the Harpies, but they can at least make an effort against Pride of
Portree, eh?”

“Well, I don’t suppose insulting his team will do me any good either!”

“I see Granger is still the brains of the operation, then,” Malfoy said, looking between the
two girls with impassive amusement. He seemed lighter, somehow.

I suppose, Hermione thought, having the burden of enforced limited perspective lifted would
do that do a man.

“She needs your jersey to piss Ron off,” Ginny said. Hermione gave up trying to stop her.
Ginny was clearly in a mood today, and she would have what she wanted one way or another.

Malfoy quirked his head to the side, and he turned his gaze toward Hermione. His lips were
pressed together lightly, in a thinly veiled effort not to laugh. “Granger, I might not need all
the pleasantries, but I could use a bit more detail than what Weasley is giving me.”

Hermione tried to be as succinct as she could. “Ronald cheated on me. We broke up. I want to
make him feel as shitty as he made me feel without physical maiming and without sinking to
his level of debauchery. He hates you, and he’s not well pleased with the Cannons. The
Weasley clan and some of us others are all getting together to watch Chudley versus Portree
on Saturday.”

“Combine two of his childish hatreds into one afternoon and you’ve got yourself a good girl’s
revenge,” Malfoy said. “Much too nice for my taste, but fitting for you.”

“And listen, I’d have just bought your jersey, but apparently people like you and it was sold
out at Quality Quidditch. So can I just buy one of your jerseys off you or something?” She
was embarrassed, and she really just wanted this interaction to be over.

Malfoy made an exaggerated show of contemplating her offer, complete with worrying his
clean-shaven chin. Still took pleasure in having something to hold over someone else, then.
Some things never changed.

Then something in his eyes shifted, like he’d gotten an idea. His tone was still light, but he
addressed her sincerely. “I’ll make you a deal, Granger, and please know that I cannot believe
I’m asking this either.”

Uh oh. Hermione looked to Ginny for her opinion on whatever was about to happen, but she
just shrugged and motioned for Malfoy to go on.

“Watch my son during the game.” Oh. “Tell the Weasleys that you and I are friends, or
something, and just keep him with you for the game. I’ll get him as soon as the game ends, I
swear.” Malfoy was speaking a little fast, and he passed his hands through his hair once…
twice in a nervous tick. He was composed to anyone who wasn’t looking closely, but to
Hermione he was clearly a bit desperate.

“Who normally watches him during a game?” Hermione asked. It seemed a bit odd that he
wouldn’t have a regular nanny to watch him.

Malfoy sighed and his shoulders slumped. “My mum, normally, but she’s got a charity event
she’s planning with the ladies auxiliary. Then Theo would normally step up, but he’s finally
landed a date with some bint he’s been mooning over the past half a year. Neither Blaise nor
Pansy is responsible enough to look after themselves, let alone a child. The few others I’d
trust play on the team, so they obviously can’t.”

“But you’d trust me, your schoolyard nemesis, to look after your child,” Hermione asked,
incredulous. She sympathized with his lacking a babysitter, but surely there were better
options than her.

Malfoy smiled. “You’ve gone out of your way to find the most docile yet effective mode of
revenge for your bastard ex because you’re still worried about doing anything morally wrong
to him. I think I can trust you to do right by an innocent child.”

Hermione blushed. She was used to being called a goody two shoes, but the way Malfoy put
it was almost nice. And she liked children, not that many of her friends knew it. Whenever
there was a Granger family reunion, she could always be found dallying about with the kids.
They always wanted to know what the big words she used meant, and they loved it when
she’d read them stories. But surely a tiny Malfoy would be different. “I wouldn’t mind
watching him, but I don’t know how well the Weasley would take to me watching your son,
even if I told them you and I were friends. While I know they wouldn’t hurt a child, I
certainly don’t want them saying anything about you to him.”

Ginny had been watching their back and forth like it was a tennis match (tennis: muggle
game Harry had explained to her when she’d stumbled across it on the muggle telly back
when they were dating). She figured this was her chance to step in as the empire – no,
umpire! Emperor? Was it? Whatever. “The only person in my family who would have the
gall to talk poorly about a parent to his child would be Ron, and even a child couldn’t take
him seriously.”

“Granger, you want to make a splash with Weasley anyway. Pretending we’re close enough
that you watch my kid will only add to the fire. I trust you’ll keep Scorp safe. I wouldn’t ask
this of you if I thought you’d even entertain the idea of putting him in danger.”

That was true. Even as he continued to argue the idea with her, Draco wondered at his trust in
her. If anyone had a right to hate all Malfoys, Granger was it. She was working her way
through the ministry ranks through charity and social reform. Even as an adult, she couldn’t
resist helping someone out. She wouldn’t let anything happen to Scorp, and he’d be able to
take down Portree’s bitch of a seeker down a peg or two in the game while Granger and his
son bonded over some nursery rhymes.

Oh! Well, wasn’t that a notion.

 Malfoy started again, “Granger, you don’t like quidditch, correct?”

“Absolutely.”

Malfoy stopped himself from rolling his eyes (Ginny did not). “So use my son as a
distraction then.”

“That’s an awful way to look at babysitting, Malfoy!”

“Read him some books or something! My kid loves stories. Of course, I don’t imagine you’re
quite as fond of Hera the Hippogriff books as he is. Still, he’ll listen to you read anything if
you read it in a tone that makes it sound interesting.”

Ginny actually saw the resistance in Hermione’s eyes crumbling. All she had to do was read
to a little boy who would find anything she’d say fascinating. This was a much better fate
than feeling isolated among the quidditch-loving family of her ex-boyfriend.

“Fine,” Hermione said, willing herself to sound reluctant. “I need the jersey, today though.”

“Don’t trust me?”

Hermione simply raised an eyebrow in challenge, something she deeply regretted when she
saw Malfoy lift his arms and pull the jersey off. Holy abs, did she hate when Ginny was right
about things. He cast a quick cleaning charm before tossing the jersey to her. By some
miracle, she caught it.

“You know, you could have owled it to me. You still have practice don’t you?”

Malfoy shrugged and smirked. “It’s hot enough out that no one will question me playing
without. Our practice jerseys haven’t got any padding or cushioning charms, so it really wont
make a difference either way.”

Hermione thought she might mention how likely he was to burn his perfect pale complexion
– she could certainly feel the sun heating her cheeks – but she thought better of it. No need to
stretch this out any longer. “I’ll owl you my address and you can drop – Scorp you said? -
you can drop him off with me before you head to the stadium to do whatever it is athletes do
before they play.”

Malfoy smiled and his eyes softened. “Thanks Granger. I promise you he’ll be on his best
behavior.”

Hermione acknowledged his words with a nod before wrapping her arm around Ginny’s
shoulders and apparating away.

Chapter End Notes

I hope you are all doing well in these unprecedented times.
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

Please have chapter 2 as an apology for forgetting to list this as a multichapter fic!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

In the time between agreeing to this scheme and date of the game in question, Hermione
wrote out 5 letters to Malfoy canceling. Of course, she didn’t send them. Her pride wouldn’t
let her renege on her promise to watch Malfoy’s son. Honestly, she found
herself focusing more on what she could do to entertain a 4 year old for several hours and
less on what Ron would think.

She’d told Harry a diluted version of events: that she and Malfoy had, at some point, come to
be civil acquaintances and that she was watching his son during the game. If Harry wasn’t
buying it, he’d had the decency to not say so out loud. He simply hmm-ed before asking if he
should bring Teddy. “They are technically family, you know, and nothing entertains a kid like
another kid. Teddy is only a couple of years older, so It should be fine.”

Oh, bless Harry! Hermione had readily agreed.

And then it was the day of the game. Hermione stared at the jersey where it was laid out on
her bed, blinding orange with a white 9 on the center. MALFOY was printed across the
shoulders. Well, at least it wasn’t visible from the front. She finally pulled it over her head
when the much anticipated (dreaded?) knock finally sounded at the door.

For a brief second before opening the door, she wondered if Malfoy had ever deigned to enter
an apartment complex before. He and all his friends had ancestral homes, after all, and
picturing any of them in a small apartment was almost funny. When she opened the door,
however, he seemed comfortable enough leaning against her doorframe. He smiled at her and
Hermione smiled back briefly before shifting her gaze to the little boy holding his father’s
hand and staring up at her.

The blond hair, sharp features, and fair complexion were undeniably Malfoy. Were it not for
his startlingly green eyes, Hermione would have thought she was looking at a young
Draco Malfoy. She crouched in front of him and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. My
name is Hermione Granger. You can just call me Hermione, or Mione if you please.”

His small face split into a grin, and he stood a little taller. He clearly liked being treated like
an adult. He let go of his father’s hand and shook hers. “My name is Scorpius Malfoy. You
can call me Scorp or Scor without the p sound. We’re wearing the same shirt,” He tugged a
bit of the fabric of his child-size jersey before letting it drop. “My dad says you like to read.
Can you read to me during the boring bits of the game?” He glanced over her shoulder.
“What’s that?”

She looked over her shoulder at her TV. “Well, that’s the telly. It’s a muggle invention that
lets you watch things.”

“What things?”

“Like plays,” she said, having found in the past that it was the easiest way to explain the
purpose of a TV to those raised without them.

“You can watch a play without leaving home?” (Draco) Malfoy asked. His wide-eyed stare
nearly matched his son’s.

She stood back up, then. “When do you need to be at the stadium?”

“An hour. I wanted to make sure I had enough time to see Scor settled in case he decided to
be difficult.”

She nodded and then motioned the boys in, closing the door behind them and then motioning
for them to sit on the sofa. She grabbed the remote from the coffee table, pointed it at the TV,
and hit the power button. Her eyes remained trained on the both of them. She loved watching
the absolute confusion and awe that flooded every magically raised person’s face as the
pictures flickered across the screen with sound. She knew she would never be able to
experience “On Moonlight Bay” in the same way they were at that moment.

They sat in silence for a minute before Draco finally asked, “How long do the pictures keep
moving? When do they start over?”

“Well,” it never really got easier to explain this bit, “it’s going to keep going until there’s an
advertisement or the film ends.”

“Film?” that was Scorp.

“Remember, I said you can watch things like a play? Well, films are like that. Those are
actors. They take long pictures, which is called filming, and then they cut it all together to
make a film. Does that make sense?”

The Malfoys had some tell-tale wrinkles between their brows that clearly said “No, you mad
woman, that did not make sense” but they both nodded as if they understood. Hermione
thought about making another go at an explanation, but Doris Day and
Gordon MacRae began to sing and she knew the boys were lost to her.

This was decidedly not how she’d expected this morning to go. Awkwardness, she’d
expected, or an exceedingly bratty child that would remind her of Draco circa their early
years at Hogwarts. She waved her wand to set an alarm for a half an hour later to keep
Malfoy from being late. She had seen many a witch and wizard forget plans after discovering
the wonders of muggle technology.
Hermione considered flooing Ginny and telling her to come over early to witness this with
her, but when she looked at the Malfoys sat on her couch and watching some old musical
with rapt interest, she decided she might like to keep the sight for herself. She could always
tell Ginny about it later. When the alarm went off Hermione practically had to pull Malfoy
from her couch and send him on his way.

“But I want to know if they get married,” Draco whined.

Hermione huffed. “I’m sure Scorpius will be happy to tell you how it ends.”

“But the songs!”

“Oh, you are going to lose your mind when you learn about CDs.”

“What?”

Hermione pushed him out the front door and locked it behind him for good measure.

And then there were two.

Hermione half expected little Malfoy to completely freak out when his Dad left, but he
simply watched as his father walked (was shoved) out the door, glanced at the newly vacant
spot, glanced at Hermione, and then turned back to the TV.

Hermione puttered about in the kitchen, watching Scorpius from the corner of her
eye. Every few minutes he would turn around and look at her before returning to the movie.
Hermione wasn’t sure if she should talk to him or not. On one hand, he seemed perfectly
happy to watch the movie. On the other hand, they’d have to talk sometime, and if she waited
too long it might be difficult to start later. He looked up at her again, and she figured there
was no time like the present.

“Would you like anything to drink, Scorp?” she called from the kitchen.

“Could I have some tea, please?”

His little voice was polite but hesitant, and Hermione melted. The poor boy had to be nervous
left with a stranger, but he was trying his best not to show it. Hermione smiled and made a
little show of filling her bright yellow kettle and setting it on the stovetop. Instead of turning
back to the movie, Scorpius continued to watch her as she walked around her kitchen
grabbing her pink teapot, some tea bags, and an ugly, barely usable tea cosy she’d made a
year prior when Molly’d tried to teach her to knit.

“You need all that stuff for tea?”

Hermione popped the last of her tea bags into the pot and poured the boiled water in after. “I
suppose most of it could be done with magic.”

“Then why do you do it that way?”

Hermione shrugged. “I suppose because that’s how I was taught to do it. Even after I started
learning magic, I wasn’t allowed to do magic when I wasn’t at school, so I’ve just always
done it the muggle way.”

She supposed she was probably boring the boy with her rambling, but he didn’t seem
annoyed or distracted. In fact, he got up from the couch and walked over to her kitchen and
took a seat at her breakfast bar.

“Would you like something to eat with your tea?”

He shook his head. “My Dad gave me two galleons to get food at the arena.”

Hermione smiled at the excited boy as he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out two
shiny coins. “Two galleons? Well, you’ll have to think about what you want to buy when we
get there.”

“We can share,” he said. “Do you like chicken strips and chips? Dad says I have to eat
something like that before I eat any sugar quills. Do you like sugar quills?”

“I do like sugar quills and chicken strips and chips, as a matter of fact,” Hermione said as she
turned to a cupboard, “but I think you should use those galleons on yourself. Thank you,
though, for offering. You’re very sweet.”

The little boy blushed. “We can share the sugar quills. I think my tummy would hurt if I ate a
whole box myself.”

“Alright, that sounds good. Now,” she turned back toward him, the cupboard open behind
her, “could you pick out a couple of mugs for us?”

Hermione pulled a chair from her table and helped Scorpius climb onto it, standing behind
him to catch him if he fell. He carefully grabbed a mug with a cow and a calf illustration. Its
handle was a cow as well, the front legs being one point of attachment and the back legs
being another. It was a funny mug, so she wasn’t surprised he picked it.

He held the mug with both hands and bent over to carefully set down the mug. When he
stood back up, he pointed at the mug and said, “That one’s for me.”

“Okay. Now can you pick one out for me?” Hermione asked, her head half turned as she
heard the floo activate.

Ginny walked into the kitchen and gave Hermione a tiny wave and watched Scorpius gently
place a light yellow mug next to the cow mug. He stood up and pointed to the yellow mug.
“That one’s yours.”

“Oh, thank you! I like that one a lot!” Scorpius turned around to look at her and his smile
drooped a little. “Scorp, this is my friend, Ginny. We’re gonna be sitting with her and some of
my other friends at the game.”

Ginny put on her Aunty Gin smile and shook Scorpius quickly proffered hand. “It’s nice to
meet you, Scorpius. I’m Ginny Weasley. Are you excited for the game?”
Scorpius nodded quickly, “My dad plays for the canons. He has a jersey like me and Mione
are wearing, see?”

Scorpius moved closer to Hermione, and she moved closer to the chair to make sure he
wouldn’t fall off in his excitement.

“Wow, you two are a matching pair, aren’t you?” Ginny said, eyes shining with amusement.

Scorpius gave a toothy smile and Hermione reached out to ruffle his hair. What a sweet boy.
It seemed so strange to see such a happy look on the face of a tiny Draco Malfoy. It was
heartbreaking to think of how mean of a child Draco had been, but it made Scorpius happy
disposition all the more sweet.

“Scorp, why don’t you pick out a mug for Ginny as well?”

He spun back around on his perch and picked some mugs up and put them down until he
grabbed a mug with a bunch of paintbrushes printed on the mug and fake paint splotches on
the inside. Just like with the other two mugs, he took the mug in both of his hands and set it
gently on the counter.

“Very nice!” Ginny said as Hermione helped Scorpius hop off the chair.

“If you want to go watch the telly, I can bring your tea out to you.”

“Okay!” He said before rushing to the couch.

Hermione put a generous amount of milk and sugar into his tea and brought it out to him. He
gave her a distracted “thank you” as he took the mug, already engrossed in the whichever old
musical was on now. Hermione went back to the kitchen and collapsed in a chair at her table,
angling herself so that she could still see Scorpius from where she was sat.

Ginny slid the cup of tea she’d made for Hermione toward her before taking up her own.
“You know, I didn’t think Malfoy would pop his kid in a matching jersey.”

“Well, it’s his kid. Of course he’s going to want to have his son supporting him.” Hermione
hadn’t really considered it either, but it made sense.

“Yeah,” Ginny said, taking a quick sip of tea before continuing, “but you kinda look like –
and don’t freak out! – but you kinda look his mum. Or stepmum, I guess, since everyone
knows his mum dipped after the divorce.”

“Ginny!” Hermione hissed, looking to make sure Scorpius hadn’t heard her. Luckily, Ginny
had been speaking quite softly and Scorpius was engrossed in the advertisements on the telly.
Still, Hermione wasn’t well pleased Ginny’d brought it up.

“Well damn, Hermione, I’m just giving you a preview of tomorrow’s papers.”

“You were the one encouraging me to do this, Ginny! You were the one encouraging this.”

“Drink your tea, Hermione.”

“No, I – ”

Ginny gave her best Mother Molly look that stopped Hermione in her tracks. When the mug
was to Hermione’s lips, Ginny spoke up: “Sweetheart, I still think revenge is a good idea. I
mean, we knew wearing Malfoy’s jersey would make headlines. It’s just, I’ve been thinking
about it, and I realized that this poor kid is gonna get dragged into the headline. I mean, I’ll
bet you 5 galleons it’ll be spun as a romantic, found family type article. Still, there will be
people who don’t like it, you know… the reformed death eater and the war heroine, I mean.”

Half of Hermione’s mug was gone by the time Ginny finished speaking. She nodded more to
herself than to Ginny. She had been so concerned about being able to take care
of Scorpius and protect him from Ron’s inevitable tantrum that she hadn’t even considered
how he’d be pulled into the papers.

She tugged her hands through her curls a few times before signing refilling her mug with
what little tea was left in the pot. “Well, there’s nothing to be done now. I said I’ll take to him
see his dad play, and I will. I’ll protect him.”

Ginny nodded. Hermione was, in part, known for her protective streak over those who could
not defend themselves. Kids certainly fit in that group. “Well then,” she said, pushing her
own empty mug to sit next to the empty teapot, “let’s talk about something else then, shall
we? No point worrying about it until it’s happening, eh?”

And they did. Mostly they talked about their jobs, who Ginny had been seeing recently, and
what movie they were going to be seeing on their monthly girls’ date – simple things that
didn’t have a lot of substance but that you could talk about for hours. When it was time to go,
Hermione called Scorpius back into the kitchen and wet a paper towel to wipe at a splotch of
dried tea on his cheek. She couldn’t imagine the ever-immaculate Malfoy would be
particularly pleased to see his son anything less than the tidy boy he’d left with her.

She reached out to take hold of the mug he was holding and gently pulled it from his grasp,
setting it by hers and casting a quick tergeo on all the mugs and the pot to get rid of any
remaining tea. She turned back to Scorpius who was looking at the mug, disastrously forlorn
over relinquishing it as only a child could be when confronted with such a simple thing.

“I’ll tell you what Scorp,” Hermione said, squatting down to his height, “If your father
doesn’t have anything planned for after the game, I’ll see about convincing him to bring you
back for another cuppa, how about that?”

She didn’t know what made her say it. Well, not until Scorpius’ face lit up. That smile would
really do a lot of damage when he figured out how to use it to his advantage. Then again, it
appeared he already was. “Really?”

It was Hermione’s turn to nod. “Yes, but if your father already has plans, you have to be a
good boy and listen to him without a pout, alright?”

“But I want to pick out a mug for Dad!” He stomped his foot a little, but he didn’t look like
he was going to throw a tantrum. He did, however, look extremely heartbroken.
 “And I’m sure that if he’s got something planned, he and I can work out another time for you
come over for tea, eh?” She normally wouldn’t feel comfortable promising a child something
without their parent’s express consent, but she had a feeling Malfoy couldn’t deny his son
something so simple. If he even tried, she was certain she could lure him in with the promise
of a second look at the telly. Scorpius didn’t seem overly pleased at possibly having to wait to
use his mug again, but he accepted it and stuck his hand out for her to grab, clearly indicating
he was ready to leave.

Ginny stood by and watched it all happen. Had anyone been looking at her, they would see
the amusement dancing in her eyes. As it were, though, the only other people in the room
weren’t paying her much mind at all. She watched as Hermione took the little hand that was
offered to her then grabbed her pre-packed tote bag from the kitchen counter and threw it
over her shoulder.

Hermione took a steadying breath. No time like the present to shock your friends and piss off
your ex, it would seem.

Chapter End Notes

All of these mugs are very real. The only one I don't own is the paintbrush one, and I
regret not purchasing it every day (but it was $22 and I am poor).
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The trio left Hermione’s apartment and walked to the nearest apparition point. Scorpius used
his free hand to point at different buildings and flowers, asking questions that Hermione did
her best to answer. When they got to the apparition point, Scorpius reached his other hand up
towards Hermione. She got the message and scooped him into her arms. If you’d told her
when she was at Hogwarts that she’d one day be holding a Malfoy in her arms, she’d have
had you committed. What a funny day.

Hermione held Scorpius tight against her chest and he buried his face in the crook of her
neck. The pull of apparition started in her gut and – POP! – then they were just outside the
quidditch stadium, surrounded by other spectators milling about. Ginny was beside them a
couple of seconds later. Scorpius kept his face firmly in her shoulder, even after she let him
know that they were at the stadium. She rubbed the poor boy’s back and hoped it would give
him some comfort. She knew that as an adult side-apparition was less than fun. She couldn’t
imagine being a child and having to go through it, but she knew it was safe and common.
She’d seen Harry do it with Teddy a number of times.

When they got to the front of the queue, Scorpius turned his face toward the ticket checker
just long enough for the man to recognize the boy. The man reached out and ruffled the boy’s
hair before placing a stamp on his hand and then Hermione’s.

“If his hands get dirty, evanesco – don’t wash. The stamp keeps him within a 10 meter radius
of you,” he said at Hermione’s clearly confused countenance. She nodded and followed
Ginny into the stadium. She knew her way around a stadium better than Hermione did, after
all.

When they reach their seats most of the Weasley clan was already there. Thankfully,
Hermione noted that Ron had yet to arrive. Harry was also not there yet, and she hoped he
still planned on coming with Teddy.

Ginny greeted her family rather loudly to compensate for their sudden, uncharacteristic
silence. Everyone looked at the little bundle in Hermione’s arm.

“This is Scorpius Malfoy,” she said, knowing Ginny’s chatter couldn’t deter the inevitable.
“The people that normally babysit him were busy, so I told Draco I’d watch him. He’s not
feeling quite well, at the moment. I think apparating wiped him out.” She rubbed his back
again, ignoring Ginny’s raised eyebrow at her use of Draco’s first name.

Her brothers clearly were not intending on ignoring her spur of the moment decision to refer
to (Draco) Malfoy by his first name, but they were unable to get a word in before Molly
lunged forward and put her hand to Scorpius face, feeling for a temperature. Hermione knew
he wasn’t warm, but she also knew that feeling for a temperature was simply one of Molly’s
ways of showing concern, even if she too knew a temperature wasn’t the issue at hand.
“Poor thing. Victoire wasn’t feeling too well when we got here, either,” She told Hermione,
before rubbing her thumb across Scorpius’ cheek. “Would you like a snack, young man? It
might help you perk up a bit.”

Scorpius lifted his head from Hermione’s shoulder then. “Can I still have a snack even if I
don’t feel bad anymore?”

Hermione could pinpoint the exact moment Molly became just as enamored by the boy as she
had; when Molly looked into that sweet, innocent, trusting face that she’d never seen on a
Malfoy before. “Oh, of course you can! Can’t he, Hermione? Bill, dear, hand me over some
of those crackers.”

Hearing his name, Bill’s brain seemed to sputter back to life. He turned to grab some crackers
from his daughter, but she was already climbing onto the bench seat Hermione was standing
beside and handing the bag up. Instead of taking the whole bag, Scorpius reached down into
the bag and took a few with a polite “Thank you.”

Hermione sat down on the bench and set Scorpius beside her. Victoire sat down on his other
side and placed the bag between them. The two quickly started chattering back and forth, and
Hermione turned to look at the gathered Weasleys.

“Hello, all!” She said by way of greeting, an awkward wave accompanying it.

“Hullo, Mummy Granger,” George said, snickering even as Angelina swatted his arm.

Scorpius looked up at her quickly, suddenly disinterested in what Victoire had to say. “Are
you a mummy, Miss Mione? Do you have a baby?” There was an accusation she couldn’t
name in his tone.

“No, Scorp, I don’t have any babies yet. Mr. George just thinks he’s funny when he’s not,”
she said. George threw a hand over his heart as though she’d wounded him.

Scorpius scrunched up his nose, and Hermione thought the little wrinkles that appeared
between his brows were the sweetest thing she’d ever seen. He didn’t say anything else and
instead turned back to Victoire, who was clearly annoyed at having been abruptly ignored but
was happy to have the young boy’s attention again.

“Gee Ginny,” Bill said, “When you said Hermione was bringing someone, we thought you
meant a date.”

Ginny shrugged. “I just told you to not be surprised when she showed up with someone. You
drew your own conclusions on what that meant.”

“You phrased it a particular way knowing we’d draw those conclusions.”

Ginny gasped, “How could you accuse me of that? I’m not that sly.”

Before Bill could give Ginny a point by point speech on just how sly she was, Molly began
waving her arms frantically. “Yoohoo! Harry, dear! Luna, love! Over here! Oh, and my sweet
Teddy!”
Bill put his hand up to signal them over so Molly would stop her crazy flapping. Luna
skipped over to them leaving Harry – with Teddy on his shoulders –to follow.

As a heavily pregnant Luna was passed from arm to arm for hugs and greetings and
wrackspurt inspections, Scorpius turned away from Victoire again and grabbed Hermione’s
sleeve, waving for her to hunch over so he could whisper in her ear. “His hair is blue, Miss
Mione! Blue!”

Hermione smiled at Scorp’s excitement. “Well, that’s Teddy. He’s a metamorphmagus, so he

can change his hair to whatever color he likes! When he’s older he’ll be able to change other
parts of how he looks, too. Isn’t that cool?”

“Cool,” Scorp breathed in agreement, still staring at Teddy.

As if he felt the stare, Teddy, who had been passed to Molly for cooing, turned to look in
their direction. When he saw Scorpius, his hair shifted from bright blue to pale blond. He
squirmed his way out of Molly’s hold and climbed over the bleachers between them until he
was beside them.

“Wotcher Victoire! Wotcher Aunt Hermione!” Teddy said, turning to each of them when he
greeted them and looking back at Scorpius.

“Hello Teddy. Come meet Scorpius. I’m watching him while his dad plays in the game.”

Teddy lit up. “Your dad is playing? What position?”

Scorpius’ little chest puffed out with Malfoy pride. “He’s a seeker. The best seeker in the
world!”

Harry and most of the Weasleys started to chuckle as Ginny mumbled, “I am not going to
correct him because he’s only a child, but he’s wrong.”

Teddy didn’t try to correct Scorpius either, which slightly offended Ginny – she had been
drilling Harpies loyalty into the boy since he was a baby, and she thought he’d defend their
seeker. Teddy looked at Scorp’s jersey before turning to the field where the players were now
running their warmup drills and watching intently Scorpius’ dad. Sure, Teddy had seen his
Aunt Ginny play as a professional, but he’d known her forever and all the Holyhead Harpies
by proxy.

People who’d changed your nappies weren’t as cool as strangers, it would seem.

Hermione smiled and tried to prepare herself for Ron’s inevitable appearance. She had spent
the past few days worrying more about getting along with her ex-nemesis’ child rather than
preparing for her ex-boyfriends encroaching tantrum. He was late to everything, so she knew
she'd still have a few minutes to really compose herself. The Weasleys seemed to understand
her subtle disinterest in the conversation and left her to herself.

Seven minutes from the start of the game, and Ron was stalking up the stairs toward their
seats: predictable as ever. His eyes lit up for a second when he saw Hermione. He had been
telling anyone who would listen that she’d forgive him eventually; “couldn’t stay away if
she’d had herself trapped in a full body bind” was the exact wording, if Hermione recalled
correctly (and she rarely recalled incorrectly).

The glint in his eyes faded rather quickly when he noticed the bright orange jersey.
Frustration set in his brow when he saw that his friends and family were all sporting
something orange in support of his least favorite team. He turned towards his mum, a whinge
on the tip of his tongue when he spotted the tiny blond kids sitting on the bench behind her.
One was Victoire, one was Teddy, and one was…

Frustration became fury.

“What’s that little death eater brat doing here, huh?”

Hermione quickly threw a muffliato charm on the children who all (rather hilariously, one
would think when looking back) rolled their eyes, recognizing the telltale buzzing sound that
meant adults were talking about adult stuff.

When Hermione had twisted around to cast the spell, Ron noticed the fat, white MALFOY
spanning her shoulders.

“Shacked up with bloody Malfoy, have you? That desperate, are you?” Ron asked. His face
had turned redder than she’d ever seen it, and in record time, too.

Hermione took a big breath, intent on putting Ron in his place, but Molly beat her to it.

“Ronald Billius Weasley! What did you call that innocent little boy?” Molly asked, her voice
terrifyingly quiet and even.

“Innocent? He’s Malfoy’s kid and-”

“No matter! A child is a child! And who are you to think you have any say in how or with
whom Hermione spends her time, anyhow, hmm?” Her tone brokered no argument, but Ron
was too dense to notice.

Ron spluttered for a second like an engine struggling to turn over before finally starting up.
“How can I ever take her back after this? It’ll be all over the news that she’s playing mummy
to that ferret spawn.”

If Molly weren’t so hellbent on having a nice game day with the rest of her family, she’d
have slapped him. She’d have hit her youngest son square across the face. She’d have felt
guilty about it later, but she sure would have done it. He was a grown man after all.

As it were, though, she didn’t fancy getting herself kicked out. She reached out and quickly
grabbed Ron by the ear, apparating out of the stadium. She’d have to go through security
again to get back in, but she was sure the lines would be short now that the game had started,
so she didn’t mind.

Everyone stood in a rather awkward silence staring at where Ron and Molly had stood before
Ginny broke out into a fit of giggles.
“Hermione,” she said, trying to compose herself. “Hermione didn’t even get to say her piece.
Not a word!”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh as well. The whole point had been for her to chew out Ron
and get some satisfaction from the whole fresh hell that was the end of her relationship. Still,
she was glad that Scorpius hadn’t been dragged into something absolutely traumatizing, and
there was a deep satisfaction in seeing Molly, a normally doting mother, absolutely berate
Ron. Everyone else started laughing, including the kids who still could not hear anything but
were infected by the adults’ suddenly light mood.

Hermione removed the muffilato, still giggling, and ruffled the boys’ hair. She knew better
than to mess with Victoire’s hair.

Arthur squeezed Hermione’s shoulder: it was his way of showing that he was on her side. He
wasn’t good with confrontation. Molly was always the disciplinarian, and she had filled that
role today as well. Hermione reached up and squeezed his hand in response. His support was
enough.

Everyone else turned towards the game, more lighthearted than one might expect after such a
confrontation. Hermione glanced around and realized the people in the seats around them
were so absorbed in the game that they’d barely batted an eye at the argument before them.

The power of sports.

Hermione settled back onto the bleachers, splitting her attention between watching the kids
and idly watching the game. She pulled a novel out of her bag and set it in her lap, thumbing
the corners of the pages but not reading. She tilted her head back and soaked in the beautiful
day.

She almost felt bad for feeling so at peace. She had built up this confrontation so much in her
head, but it had only lasted a couple of minutes. She had a speech planned, and she’d not said
a word of it. She might feel childish for wanting revenge at all if she wasn’t so pleased. She’d
have to leave any verbal altercations for a later meeting. It wasn’t as if she’d never see Ron
again. It was only a matter of time. At the moment, though, she couldn’t be bothered.

After an hour of lazing on the bleachers, Hermione spotted someone with a camera a bit
lower in the bleachers. When she looked at him, the photographer swiftly swung his camera
towards the field, but Hermione had no doubt he’d been taking pictures of Scorpius. She
hopped to her feet and walked over to the kids.

“Is anyone hungry? I think I’m going to find something to eat,” she said, ready to get
Scorpius out of the photographer’s view. She knew there was no avoiding having their picture
taken, but she could at least limit it. Teddy and Victoire both shook their heads, having eaten
before coming and continuing to snack on crackers. Scorpius, however, jumped to his feet.

“I didn’t eat any crackers, Mione - well, I didn’t eat lots of them - because I remember that
we’re going to share sugar quills!”
“Ah, but we have to eat chicken strips and chips first, yeah?” Hermione said, reaching to pick
Scorpius up.

He scrunched up his nose and leaned back to look at her face. “I can walk!”

“I know, Scorp, but there’s so many people here that I’m afraid I’ll get lost and won’t be able
to find you,” she said. “If I carry you, then at least we’ll be lost together.”

Scorpius considered her words for a moment before nodding his assent.

While Miss Mione carried him, Scorpius couldn’t help but wonder if this is what being held
by a mum felt like. He’d seen his aunts Pansy and Millicent do it with their little babies.
When they got food, she had let him pick what dipping sauces they got, and when they were
eating sugar quills she split one with him even though he’d already had a whole one to
himself! She held him close as they ate and until the end of the game, and he even read some
of her book to him. That had to mean she liked him a lot!

All of Miss Mione’s friends were nice and normal to him, too, which was really different
from how he was usually treated when he went out with just his dad or Nana. People were
either too nice or really mean those times. Miss Mione’s friends were fun and nice and
comfy.

As soon as the game ended, Scorpius’ energy started to dip. He drooped against Hermione
and tightened his hold on her. Hermione figured he was probably tired. Godric knew she was
ready for a long nap in the most air-conditioned space she could manage.

As the rest of the spectators began to leave, Hermione brushed Scorpius’ hair away from his
forehead, but it refused to stay put. “Oh Scorp, your hair is a mess. Your father will think I’ve
put you through the wringer.”

“I think he may be more understanding than you’d assume,” a familiar voice said.

“Oh? I sure hope you’re right,” Hermione said, turning to face a flush-faced Draco. His hair
was sticking up wildly in several directions, but his face was free of sweat. He must have cast
a quick refreshing charm.

Draco reached out to smooth Scorpius hair, muttering a wandless glamour that smoothed the
mess for the most part. “Trust me, Granger, I know how ridiculously disheveled this one can
get.”

Hermione’s friends shifted toward them, politely greeting Draco and congratulating him on a
game well played before giving Scorpius a warm goodbye. George reached out to ruffled
Scorpius hair, undoing his father’s work and somehow leaving it in a state worse than it’d
been before being charmed.

When the three were left alone again (save the less than subtle prying eyes of media) Draco
offered Hermione his arm. “I can apparate you directly out of the stadium, so you won’t have
to face the crowd.”
 Hermione nodded and took his arm. Draco adjusted Scorpius in his arms and pulled
Hermione closer. The familiar pull of apparition squeezed them and then they were at the
apparition point a street over from her apartment.

Draco let go over Hermione’s arm and gave her a small smile.

“Thanks,” she said, a bit breathless (from apparating).

“No problem.”

“My ears hurt!” Scorpius cried, hands clutched to either side of his head.

Draco moved his hands to the base of Scorpius skull and started rubbing gently, trying to ease
the pain. “This happens sometime when we apparate. Not very often, and the healer said it’s
best to continue doing it to build his tolerance. It’s been months since it’s last hurt his ears.”

Hermione rubbed Scorpius back in sympathy before turning towards her street and waving
for Draco to follow. “Come back to mine for some tea or cocoa. He can calm down a bit there
and you guys can use my floo to get home.”

Draco fell into step just behind her, admiring the way her curls bounced as she walked. It was
rather prettier than he remembered it being, although it really didn’t look different at all. He’d
almost wished he were 13 again, so he could reach out and shove a quill in her hair just to
touch it...

Oh no.

Oh my.

Well, Malfoy thought, all things pass.

But he would be lying if he told himself passing fancies were what he wanted. He’d had
enough of those. Still, to be attracted to someone who’d probably never care for you in
return... Aphrodite was cruel.

It’s just hair, he thought. Plenty of witches have pretty hair. And pretty eyes. And a brain that
won’t quit... among other things. Once Granger was out of sight, she’d surely be out of mind.

Naturally, he thought it.

But he didn’t believe it.

Chapter End Notes

Hey all! No set upload schedule at the moment. Just trying to get as much as I can
written, edited, and out now because I’ve just finished up my spring semester, and I start
my summer semester in 2 or 3 weeks.
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

When they got into her apartment, Hermione rushed towards the kitchen to put the kettle on
and Draco lay Scorp on the couch, but he popped back up, seemingly recovered, and ran to
the kitchen. Hermione followed him, moving a chair so that he could go through her mug
collection again.

Draco followed them to the kitchen and watched in awed amusement as his son picked up a
mug, gave it an appraising look, and then shook his head as if finding something lacking
before he set it back in the cabinet.

Finally, he pulled a white mug with gold lettering on it and gently set it on the counter and
turned to his dad. “That one’s yours.”

Hermione smiled. “Excellent job, Scorp . Now down we go!” She said, picking the boy up
and playfully swinging him to the ground.

“And what does my mug say, then?” Malfoy asked his son.

Scorpius simply shrugged, genuinely unsure, and ran back into the living room, collapsing on
the couch.

Hermione grabbed the mug and handed it to Draco before going to turn the TV on for Scorp.

Draco looked down at the shiny gold letters and let out a shocked bark of laughter as he read
the word ‘Goal Digger.’

When Hermione returned to the kitchen, she asked, “Coffee or Tea?”

Malfoy set the mug down. “I believe cocoa was on the table?”

She let out a little laugh. “Sweet tooth then, Malfoy?”

“You could say so.”

Hermione turned to the stove and quickly got to work heating some milk.

“Thank you again for taking such care of Scorp. I saw him having fun with those other
children... he’s never got to do that before.”

“Teddy’s your family, you know? They got on well, too.”

“Yes. Yes, I...” he hesitated, “I thought about reaching out to aunt Andromeda many times,
but I’m afraid I never followed through.”
Hermione kept her gaze intent on the stove. “She’d like that, you know. If you reached out...
or your mum if you didn’t feel comfortable. She’s been just as scared to reach out, but she
needs family now more than ever.”

Draco perched himself on the counter beside the stove, and ran his hand through is hair
once... twice. “I’ll let mum know. It might be better for the two of them to talk before I start
trying to set up play dates.”

“Bend over for a second.”

“What?” Draco asked.

“Bend over,” Hermione said as she placed a hand on his back and pushed him forward, using
her free hand to grab cocoa powder and sugar from the cabinet he sat in front of. When she’d
set it down, she gave him a tap on the back. “You can sit up now. And it’s Harry you’ll have
to talk to about play dates, not Andromeda. He’s Teddy’s guardian.”

Draco couldn’t believe Granger – Hermione Granger! - had just pushed him down. It took
him a moment to register what she’d said.

“Ah. I had heard he had taking charge of a child. I hadn’t... I hadn’t realized it was
Nymphadora’s child, although I suppose I should have puzzled that out.”

“She preferred Tonks.”

“Hmm?”

“She didn’t like the name Nymphadora . Hated it, in fact. She preferred Tonks, even after
she got married.”

She hadn’t said it to be mean, but in that moment, Draco felt the weight of guilt on his
shoulders. The guilt of having never known a part of his family – of never reaching out to his
cousin and knowing he no longer had that option.

She interrupted his sad thoughts when she pushed a hot mug into his hand. She grabbed his
other hand and placed it to cradle the mug, her hand lingering on his in a comforting gesture.
“She’d be happy, you know? That Teddy and Scorpius would have the chance to grow up
together in the way you guys couldn’t.”

Draco nodded, the lump in his throat only growing. Hermione smiled and turned to poor
Scorpius and herself some cocoa as well. Hermione cast a mild cooling charm on Scorpius’
cocoa to keep it warm but not hot. She settled onto the couch and carefully Scorpius his mug.

Scorp set his head on Hermione’s arm in that slightly stiff manner that kids had when they
were intentionally trying to mimic signs of affection that they had observed. Hermione
chatted to him about whatever she’d put on the telly for him, sipping her own drink as he
jabbered away.
Draco’s heart ached. Scorpius had always been a shy child, and he was naturally weary of
women. He didn’t have much memory of Astoria, at least Draco didn’t think he did, but he
clearly knew his mum had been there one day and had gone the next. When Scorp had
started interacting with the children of Draco’s friends, he’d started asking questions. Why’d
he not have a mum?

Merlin, when he’d first asked that, Draco had wished Astoria had died! It was an awful
thought to have about another human being, but it would have been so much easier than
having to tell his son that his mother had left them to romp around the world with some gent
she’d met at some mindless social function.

Anyway, Scorp didn’t like women. Unless the woman was his Nana, he didn’t trust them.
He was even wary of Pansy and Daphne, afraid they’d leave his friends like Astoria had left
them.

But he liked Granger.

They needed to leave. Draco had to take his son before he could get too attached. Granger
and he weren’t friends – not really. But how could he drag his son away from this moment?
Wasn’t it good that he was getting over his dislike for women? He could allow his son this
one day.

He moved to sit with them. He was fascinated by the telly after all. He sat with Scorpius
between he and Granger. Best he not get to close to her, given his new and confused
attraction to her. No, it was better to use his son as a human shield from a woman so much
better than him that simple physical attraction was all he could allow. What a coward he was.
What a way to come down from the high of a win.

When Scorp started to droop into Hermione’s side, Draco knew he was nearly in the clear.
He was almost asleep, and when he was asleep it’d be easy to make their excuses and leave.

But then Hermione started to chat with him, her voice soft so not to stop his son’s fast track
to sleep.

“What do you think of it, then?”

Draco scrunched up his nose. She had change the telly back to some singsong play. “I don’t
understand why she’s so enamored with her neighbor. She doesn’t even know him!”

Hermione scoffed. “It’s a musical that was made in the 1940s about the early 1900s. Falling
for someone you know next to nothing about was considered romantic. Afterall, the only way
to find out more was to speak to them. Scandalous! ”

She laughed quietly at her own joke, and he couldn’t help but chuckled along with her.

Scorpius was limp against her now. Draco could pick him up and leave. He should pick him
up and leave. What good does dragging the moment out do? Just pick him up, thank Granger
again, and then go.
Easy.

Hermione started humming along to whatever silly song was playing in the film.
Draco supposed he could stay for a bit longer. His muscles were taught from the game. He
could do with a moment of relaxation. He’d just close his eyes and listen to the telly for a few
minutes more.

When Hermione realized she had not one, but two – two! - Malfoys asleep in her apartment,
she wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t at all sure what to
do. What could she do? If she moved, Scorpius would fall against the couch, and his father
against him! But if she didn’t move, who knew how long they’d stay as they were? She didn’t
mind, per se, but still... She should wake them. Or Draco, at least...

He looked like a completely different man when he was asleep, his muscles relaxed. Like
he’d never fought in a war. Hermione wondered if she ever looked like that. She couldn’t
imagine.

She grabbed the remote and turned the volume down.

What could it hurt to let them rest? She wrapped her arm around Scorpius as best she could
and cuddled up. There were a couple hours until what she imagined would be Scorp’s dinner
time. She could let them rest on her couch until then.

Well, she’d intended to wake them up at 5 so they could head home for dinner, but one movie
had turned to another, and she’d gotten well and truly distracted. It was only when Scorpius
started to stir, stretching and pushing at his father and Hermione, that she realized how late
it’d gotten. She twisted as best she could to look out her nearest window, noting with some
shock how dark it was outside. Grown Malfoy started stirring next, and Hermione had a
moment of panic.

What should she say? How could she explain why she’d let them sleep so long?

She ran a hand over her hair , trying to flatten what wasn’t really mussed to begin with.

Draco’s hair, however, was standing up straight where it’d laid against the top of his son’s
head. He looked around, clearly confused, his gaze finally settling on Hermione. He rubbed
the sleep from his eyes with his fist like a child.

“Granger? What time is it?”

She grabbed her wand from the end table and cast a quick tempus. 7:14 shimmered in the air
before them.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy, I really meant to wake you earlier. One of the less savory aspects of the
tele is they can be very distracting.”

Soon Scorp was sitting up and rubbing his eyes, too. He looked just as confused as his
father. Proof of genetic inheritance at work.
 Scorpius moved from his father’s side and cuddled into Hermione’s, closing his eyes and
going back to sleep.

Draco sighed. Scorpius was a shy child, and he didn’t take to people well. It was worrisome
how much he’d come to like Granger. He hadn’t expected it, and he can’t rightly say he was
happy with it. How could he explain to his son that this was a one-time deal? Next game it
was back to Nana’s.

Hermione was still staring at him, worrying her bottom lip and absentmindedly rubbing
Scorpius’s back.

Draco shook the thoughts out of his head. “Sorry Granger. Normally I’m home by the time
the adrenaline of a good game wears off.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“I should get him all tucked in.” Draco reached for his son and Hermione stood, picking
Scorp up and passing him over.

Hermione had to gently pry the boy’s fingers from her shirt. When he was in his father’s
arms, she smoothed his hair back from his face and couldn’t help but smile at how much he
looked like Draco in his first few years at Hogwarts. Except there was no tenseness to his
face. No anger or expectation. Sweet and innocent and hair slightly too slicked back.

“Let me know if you ever need someone to watch him again,” she said, not taking her eyes
from the boy’s sleeping face. “We didn’t get to do much reading together today, so I’m sure
we could do with another match or two together before he’s sick of me.”

Draco couldn’t imagine someone growing sick of her – her confidence and her know-it-all-
ness – he'd always depended upon it as a consistency in his school days.

“You might regret that offer, Granger.”

At that, she did raise her gaze to meet his. “I very rarely make poor choices... Draco.”

Chapter End Notes

Hey all! Story is not abandoned, just delayed! My summer classes are just a lot heftier
than I was expecting.
 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Do you think your boobs should have names?”

“Ginny, I’m trying to work.”

“I’m just saying, aren’t they a big enough part of you that they should have their own
names?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really, but like... would you name yours?”

“Mine have names,” Hermione said, pulling an old manuscript in a clamshell box from a
shelf and placing it on her cart as if nothing were abnormal.

“Really? What?”

Hermione smirked to hide her embarrassment. “Florish and Blotts.”

“Oh, brilliant!” Ginny breathed in awe. “What should mine be?”

“Ginny, I am at work. This is not professional.”

“Honey and Dukes?”

“Ugh, no! Honeydukes is one word. You need something with two words,” Hermione said,
grabbing another manuscript with both hands and carefully setting it on her cart before
marking it off her pull list.

“Well, what well known pairs are there?”

Hermioned repressed a giggle, “Ron and Harry?”

Ginny snatched a book from Hermione’s cart and acted as if she’d throw it. “Gross and
unfunny.”

“Sorry! Sorry. Put Merlin’s diaries down please.”

Ginny pouted a moment longer before gently lowering the volume back to Hermione’s cart.

“What’s brought on your sudden interest in breast names, anyway?”

“Helga brought it up during practice the other day. She said if men name their willies, we can
name our breasts.”
“Can we please talk about anything that would require some semblance of critical thinking or
discussion, please?”

Ginny scoffed. “Fine. How about we talk about the front page of Witch Weekly? Or The
Daily Prophet? Or maybe Quidditch Quibbles?”

“How about Quaffle and Bludger, then?” Hermione said, quickly casting her gaze back to her
pull list.

“Haha! You sneek. You had an excellent one the whole bloody time, didn’t you?”

Hermione started pushing her cart back to her desk, attempting the ignore Ginny tactic. It
seemed to be working, too, until she’d settled into her desk.

Ginny plopped into the seat across from her, stealing a candy from her desk, and asking, “So
onto our other topic, I suppose?”

“We knew it was going to happen, Ginny.”

“I think you play step-mum very nicely.”

Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked straight into Ginny’s eyes. “That is not
funny, Ginevera. You should never mock the relationship between a mother and her child.”

Ginny felt her cheeks burn with shame. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t think -”

“I know,” Hermione said. “Listen, can we please not do this now. I have work.”

Ginny nodded. She stood up and grabbed her bag from the coat rack. “Hermione, just so you
know,” she said, “I really do think you and mini Malfoy seemed to have bonded. I wasn’t
trying to- I mean, I-”

Hermione’s expression softened. “I know, Ginny. I’ll see you later.”

Ginny nodded and left. Hermione managed to hold her tears in a full 5 minutes before she
started quietly bawling her eyes out.

So many years since the war – since reversing her parents’ memories – and her mother still
hadn’t forgiven her. Her father had, of course. He and Hermione had always been two birds
of a feather. But her mother had been enraged. Even now, whenever Hermione went to visit,
her mother would invent an errand that had her out of the house for the duration of her time
there.

She had known that the papers would have a riot, but she hadn’t expected the types of articles
they’d wrote. She’d expected romance speculation or hit pieces about associating with the
wrong sorts. Hell, she’d even expected a secret love child paper. She’d been the subject of the
papers more than enough to know the sordid lows they’d stoop to.

But she hadn’t expected this. They were painting it as genuine. A love story. “Never too
Late!” one headline had boasted. She and Draco weren’t even old!
None of it really bothered her except the articles and photos centered on her and Scorpius.
Gods, it was so unfair! She couldn't believe that there were people who could treat a maternal
bond as something to pull out for cheap gossip. The only saving grace was that Scorpius
wasn’t old enough to read newspaper articles without assistance and no reasonable adult
would think to read such nonsense to a child.

When she thought of it like that, there was really no need to be upset. She knew it would
blow over –it always blows over. Still...

Hermione had burned the first article she’d seen insinuating that she and Scorpius were
clearly attached. And then she had to go out and purchase another copy to add to the British
National Library of Magic and Mysticism. There were very few times she disliked her
position as archivist and lead reference librarian, but that had been one of them undoubtably.

As she wrote out hold notices to send via owl, she wondered if Malfoy would take her up on
her offer to watch Scorpius. If he did, she could bring out her boombox and show him her
CDs, or her new mp3 player if she were feeling nice.

One of the articles she'd hate read that morning had mentioned the Cannons were playing the
following week. He’d probably have to ask her soon if he wanted her to watch Scorp. But he
probably wouldn’t feel comfortable asking her so soon after she last watched him. Should she
reach out and let him know she was really genuine in her offer?

The nib of her quill broke, and ink spattered several of her notices. She’d pressed down to
hard.

“Bollocks.”

She quickly separated the good notices from the ruined, cleaned her desk, and started again.
These need to be out by noon so any researchers could access their manuscripts in the
afternoon. She had to focus...

Besides, hadn’t Malfoy said he normally had options when it came to watching Scorp? He
had plenty of people he’d go to before her. There was no way he’d message her. Still, it
couldn’t hurt to leave her outing bag packed with a couple copies of Hera the Hippogriff.

She sent her notices.

And she couldn’t see the harm in downloading some song from On Moonlight Bay to her
Zune. Just in case she had the opportunity to show him.

As soon as Draco stepped through the floo, he knew that he’d not get to practice on time. His
mother sat perched on a chair in front of the family-only fireplace. She didn’t look up when
he entered with Scorp on his hip. Instead, she pretended to continue reading a copy of Witch
Weekly. Utter trash.
“Daddy, look! Me and Mione!” Scorpius pointed to the cover of the magazine. A photo of
Hermione splitting a sugar quill and handing Scorpius the larger half moved in slow motion.
Scorpius wriggled out of his father’s grasp and ran towards Narcissa, snatching the magazine
from hands and beaming down at the picture.

“Scorpius, we do not grab things out of peoples’ hands,” Draco said.

Scorpius face started to turn red. Draco could sense the rare tantrum mounting. “It’s me and
Mione! It’s mine! Mine!” He stomped his feet.

“That doesn’t mean you can just rip something out of someone’s hands. It's not nice. You
have to ask Nana if you can see the magazine.”

Draco saw something flash in Scorpius eyes – it was a defensive stare, but he’d never
directed it at Draco before. Just as Draco was about to say something, Scorpius ripped the
cover from the magazine, threw the rest of the pages to the ground, and ran out of the room.

Draco was shocked. His tantrums usually came when he was being forced to interact with
others, not with him.

Draco moved to go after his son, but his mother stopped him. “The elves are always keeping
an eye on him. Let him cool off. He's growing up, afterall. He must learn that he sometimes
needs to look at his emotions himself. Now come - explain all this gossip to me, then.”

He hesitated a moment before nodding and following her to the sitting room. They sat in
silence as an elf poured their tea. The awkwardness was only prolonged by the quite clanking
of silverware on china as they prepared their tea to their liking.

After taking a sip of her tea and deeming it up to snuff, Narcissa broke the silence, “Scorpius
seems very attached to Miss Granger, if this morning’s events are anything to go by.”

“So it seems,” Draco said, sensing the oncoming interrogation.

“How long have you known each other, then?”

“Why, since we were children, Mother. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten we were classmates at
Hogwarts?”

“Do not try to be smart with me, Draco. It’s undignified. How long have you been
reacquainted? It must have been going on for quite some time for Scorpius to have grown so,
ah, enamored with her. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ah. There it was. His mother’s true concern – being left out of the loop. He couldn’t blame
her. Information had been her only lifeline on more than one occasion.

“I met up with her like a week ago to help her with a problem she was having, and she agree
to watch Scorp for the game in return.”

Narcissa gave him a disbelieving look – one raised eyebrow.

“Mother, I swear. Ask Scorp how long he’s known her. Whenever he comes ‘round again,
that is.”

Narcissa scoffed. “Easily done. Twinkle?”

A house elf popped up beside their table. “Yes, mistress?”

“Would you tell Scorpius there are breakfast sweets on the table whenever he’d like to join
us.”

The elf looked briefly at the spread of sweets and smiled. “Oh, the little mister will be happy
to have cinnamon rolls. I will go now.”

After several minutes of silent tea sipping, the door to the sitting room creeped open slowly.
It was silent, of course, but the adults had had their senses sharpened against the whetstone of
war and noticed it immediately.

They did not acknowledge it, though. They simply let the boy slowly walk over to them and
pull himself into a chair beside his father. Without saying anything, he slowly reached for a
cinnamon roll and placed it on his plate. When no one said anything, he reached for a second.
Still silence. It was only when he pressed on for a third that his father asked him politely for
the tongs so he could grab himself a scone.

“Scorpius, lovely,” Narcissa said, when the young boy had a mouth full of pastry, “Your
father and I were talking about your friend from that cover, and I was wondering how you
and she have known one another.”

When Scorpius had finished his rather large bite, he answered his Nana, “Me and Mione
watched the game with her friends while Daddy played. I like Mione. She let me pick out a
mug when we had tea.” Then Scorpius turned to his father. “When can we go see Mione? I
miss her.”

“You just saw her two days ago, Scorpius. You can’t miss her that terribly.”

Scorpius to a big bite of his cinnamon roll and chewed with his mouth open just to make his
dad and Nana mad. Why didn’t his dad understand? Mione was his friend and he wanted to
see her! He bet she liked cinnamon rolls.

He eyed the second roll he’d set on his plate and slowly placed it on top of his napkin,
scrunching up the top it to close it as best he could.

“What are you doing, Scor?”

“I think Mione would like a cinnamon roll, so she can have my other one.”

Draco and Narcissa shared a look. He’d give up a second treat?

“Pal, you don’t even know if Grang- Hermione likes cinnamon rolls,” Draco said, setting
aside his food in favor of observing his son.
 “She does.”

“Did she tell you that, dear?” Narcissa asked, punctuating her question with a sip of tea.

“No, but she would. She likes sugar quills, and I like sugar quills. And she likes chips, and I
like chips.” His matter of fact tone brokered no argument.

Draco tried to reason with him. His attachment to Granger was making him nervous. Almost
as nervous as when she’d called him Draco just a couple of nights ago. “Wouldn’t you rather
have that cinnamon roll for yourself?”

Scorpius looked longingly at the little bundle he’d made then shook his head no. Draco
sighed and returned to his own plate, trying to think of ways to dissuade his son.

Narcissa could not believe her eyes. Or ears, for that matter. Scorpius had never been an open
child. What irony that he should attach to the one woman their family had most wronged.
Well, Narcissa would not let the child be denied that affection. Not like she’d let Draco be
denied.

“Scorpius dear, eat your cinnamon roll. I’ll have the elves pack up some cinnamon rolls for
you to bring your friend when you go visit her.”

“Mother!”

“Now now, Draco. It is polite to extend a thank you a day or two after a favor has been
done,” Narcissa said.

Draco looked at his son who had just unwrapped his second cinnamon roll and was making
quick and happy work of it. Granger had said she could watch him again. Maybe, then, it
would be alright for a quick stop by. A way to really impress his gratitude for her watching
him.

Anyway... he knew he couldn’t deny his son.

Chapter End Notes

Peep me googling when Zunes were invented.

 Chapter 6

What Hermione had not expected on a Monday evening was Malfoy. Malfoys, actually.

“Mione!” Scorpius shouted, pushing away from his father’s side and launching himself into
Hermione’s arms. “I brought you cinnamon rolls. Do you like cinnamon rolls? I bet you do!”

Hermione’s eyes darted back and forth between the child and his apologetic looking father.
Quickly, she calmed herself and squatted to come face to face with Scorpius. “I do like
cinnamon rolls, Scorp , thank you! You’re such a good friend. Shall we head in?”

Scorpius nodded and rushed inside, grabbing her hand to pull her with him. She turned back
towards Draco and motioned for him to follow.

Draco stepped into Hermione’s flat for the second time in his life. He followed like a hanger-
on, setting the cinnamon rolls on the center of the dining table his son had dragged Granger
to. Scorpius had dragged two chairs together so that he was sitting hip to hip with her.

Hermione made a big show of reaching for one of the rolls, exaggerating her excitement for
the little boy. When she took a bite of the treat, however, her enthusiasm transformed into
something very real. She moaned a bit at the pure genius that was that pastry, and realized
she’d not had a sweet in quite some time.

Draco sat up straight as a rod, trying not to stare on her happy face or the way she sucked on
her fingertips to get every last bit of cinnamon sugar. Draco was suddenly very aware of just
how long it’d been since he’d been with a woman.

A year or so after the divorce, he’d tried to date. After many awkward dates and some casual
sex, Draco decided it was a waste of time. He’d rather spend the time he had in the off-season
with his son. His hand had gotten him through puberty and it had worked just as well for
past few years. Not as good as sex but that was to be expected. He hadn’t had any trouble
controlling himself. He shifted slightly in his seat, crossing his legs.

At least not until now.

Noticing his stare, Hermione wiped her fingers on a napkin and gasped. “Where are my
manners, would you both like some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Draco said quickly.

“Tea!” Scorpius said, hopping up to help her.

Hermione was thankful of the distraction. She’d expected an owl if he needed her to watch
Scorp again. Instead they’d shown up at her door on a day when she’d opted for lounge wear
and had only bothered to throw half of her hair up. She tried to tuck a few stray pieces behind
her ears despite knowing they wouldn’t stay.
She helped Scorpius fill the kettle with water and let him toss the tea bags into the pot,
counting each one together out loud. Once, she made the mistake of glancing over her
shoulder and saw Draco staring at her. It wouldn’t have been so unsettling if one of them had
just bothered to look away quickly. Instead they stared at one another until Scorpius
demanded Hermione’s attention.

Rather than pull up a chair for Scorp to stand on, she picked him up and set him on the
counter, standing behind him and holding his waste to make sure he wouldn’t fall as he
selected the same mugs they’d used before. Hermione pretended she didn’t feel Draco’s gaze
on her as she bent over to set Scorpius back on the ground.

She couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was happening.

“Scorpius, why don’t you go place the mugs on the table, and I’ll bring the pot over,”
Hermione said. The little boy took one of the mugs in both his hands, slowly walking over to
the table and setting it down before rushing back for the second and then third. Hermione
slipped a cozy over the tea pot before pouring the water and bringing it over to the table. She
grabbed three plates and one in front of each of their chairs. “That way we can all snack.”

Scorpius shot a sharp look at his father, his lips sealed tight. He wasn’t going to argue with
another cinnamon roll, that much was clear. His father, however, was warring between saying
no and keeping his son from eating too many sweets, or saying yes as would be polite.

“How about we split one, Scorp? I don’t want your tummy hurting since you already ate
some at Nana’s,” Draco said, vowing to himself that night would veggie night for dinner.

Scorpius nodded. His dad letting him have EVEN MORE sweets? Mione’s flat was the best!
He sat, kicking his legs happily as his father split their pastry and Mione prepared his tea for
him just how his dad always did it – a little tea, lots of milk, no sugar.

After her guests both had their tea and snack, Hermione served herself. After another glorious
bite of cinnamon, Hermione turned to Draco. “What brings the two of you here, then?”

It was Scorpius that answered. “Nana says it’s polite to say thank you again since you
watched me at Dad’s game. Are you going to watch me at next week’s game? Do you like
quidditch? I don’t, but I like the Cannons. Will Teddy and Victoire be there? I like them.” He
stopped abruptly and took a big bite of his pastry.

“Scorpius, Nana is watching you at the next game.”

“Why can’t Nana and Mione both watch me?”

Hermione tried to control her expression at the idea of sitting at a recreational function with
Narcissa Malfoy. They only tended to rub elbows at charity events when the two had the
common interest of raising money for some cause or another. Rather than say something
wrong, she simply took a sip of her tea and pretended she wasn’t listening. Best not to
interfere with a parent having a discussion with his child.

“Because I only set aside two personal tickets for this game; one for you and one for Nana.”
“But I want to see Teddy and Victoire!”

“Well,” Hermione felt comfortable stepping in here because she and Draco had briefly
discussed setting up time for Teddy and Scorpius to play together, “I can talk to your Dad and
Teddy’s God-Dad about setting up a time for the two of you to play together. I’m sure I can
reach out to Victoire’s parents as well.”

“Can we come here to play? I want to watch more movies.”

Draco couldn’t believe his son was being so forward. “Scorpius, you cannot invite yourself
over to other people’s homes.”

Scorpius turned to his father. “Why?”

“Because it’s impolite.”

“Why?”

“Because what if that person doesn’t want you to come over?”

Scorpius whipped his head back around and asked Hermione, “You don’t want me here?”

His expression had fallen and Hermione thought he might cry. She reached out and touched
his cheek. “Oh, of course you’re always welcome here. Don’t you fret.” Then she turned to
Draco. “He’s really always welcome, don’t be upset with him.”

Scorpius threw himself into Hermione’s arms, and they shared a big hug. Scorpius moved his
head onto Hermione’s shoulder and stuck out his tongue at his dad. Shows him what’s what!
Hermione wants him around.

Draco couldn’t believe it. Spoiled. His son was spoiled. And it wasn’t by him or his Nan – it
was by Hermione Granger. One quidditch game and Scorpius had Granger wrapped around
his little finger. Draco had a moment of misplaced pride – his son may not have been raised
to be an elitist like the generations before him, but he was still a charmer.

However, what Draco couldn’t figure out was why his son was attached to her . There
weren’t many people Scorpius really liked to be around. Sure, he’d be polite to Draco’s
friends and even have fun with them once in a while , but he never asked to see them. He
never went out of his way to ask them if he could visit. It worried Draco. Seeing how weak
Granger was against his son helped ease a bit of his worry – she was clearly enamored with
him, and she wouldn’t be quick to disappoint him.

Draco balked a bit at how quickly he and his son were quickly becoming intertwined in
Granger’s life. When Granger and Scorpius stopped hugging, Draco nodded a bit to
acknowledge what she’d said.

Hermione smiled and blushed a bit when she made eye contact with Draco. If she’d have
been alone, she might have to give herself a little slap. She blamed Ginny for making her
aware of Draco. She was the one, after all, who had so rightly pointed out Draco’s physical
appeal.
Hermione had thought he was attractive in (and out) of his quidditch orange, but his casual
look was equally good in a completely different way. He looked kind of dorky, to be
completely honest. It was a more refined version of the posh weekend clothes she’d seen at
Hogwarts – the kind she’d found obnoxious and posh and that would have totally been her
type had it not been for the smarmy ass who filled it out. Sitting at her small table, their knees
were almost touching, and she could smell the scent of him – cologne? Bodywash?

She took a sip of her tea and forced her thoughts towards less confusing subjects.

“Well, Scorpius, there are plenty of cool movies that are made for kids your age that I think
you’ll really like. Teddy really likes ‘Spy Kids,’ so I bet we could watch that.”

“What’s it about?” Scorpius asked?

‘“Well, it’s about kids who come from a family of spies.”

“Cool,” Scorpius breathed in awe.

“Is there singing like in the last one?” Malfoy asked. He was leaning towards her and
Hermione felt a blush heating her skin again.

“Not like the last one, no, but oh – I do have something I think you’ll like, Draco, just wait a
moment.”

She ran to her bedroom and grabbed her Zune and headphones from her nightstand. She
checked its charge before rushing back to the kitchen, holding it victoriously over her head as
if it were a prize.

She placed the headphones on Scorpius head first and played a song from the musical
they’d watched the first time they’d met. Scorpius’ eyes went wide and he stared at
Hermione’s face as the song played. When it finished, he took the headphones off and stared
at them for a moment before looking at his dad.

“Dad! Dad! You have to- It's awesome!”

Hermione laughed and took the headphones from Scorpius, turning to Draco. She tried to put
on her bossy face. “I really do think you’ll like this,” Hermione said, moving towards Draco
and situating the headphones over his ears.

Draco held his breath at her closeness. His first thought was naturally one of attraction – the
urge to kiss her or hold her or simply take her for a meal. But then her hand brushed some of
his hair away from his face to place some contraption more comfortably on his head, and all
he felt was tenderness. Was it friendship? Was it forgiveness?

I’m dreaming dreams, I’m scheming schemes

I’m building castles high.

Draco raised his hands to the contraptions over his ears and stared at Hermione much in the
way his son had. Slowly, he closed his eyes and let the music flow directly into his ears.
Hermione noticed his lips parted slightly as the music washed over him. She was finding
many things out about Draco Malfoy that she’d not expected. She was finding she really
enjoyed what she was seeing.

Shit.

Scorpius pulled on her arm and asked if they could watch the tele agai n, and Hermione
happily left Draco to enjoy the music before she let herself get carried away.
 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

If you’d have asked Harry Potter what he’d be spending his biweekly Thursday off on, he’d
probably tell you it was a family day – time to spend running around with Teddy or panic-
reading a parenting book or trying to figure out how if Luna would marry him if he could get
up the courage to ask. He certainly wouldn’t have said in his back yard on a play date with
Draco Malfoy.

But there he was, eh?

When Hermione had suggested that Scorpius and Teddy get together for some playtime ,
Harry had immediately agreed. Teddy rarely got to hang out with kids besides the Weasleys,
and he’d seemed really excited to have a new friend.

What Harry hadn’t considered was that he would then have to make small talk with Malfoy.
If the men had been smart, they’d have discussed leaving one of the boys with the other and
scheduling a designated pick up time. But they’d not done that. Instead, they sat on Harry’s
back deck with some butterbeer and watched as the two boys chased one another on their
training brooms. ‘

Eventually, Harry just couldn’t take it anymore. He was a chatter. “Man, I wish I’d had one of
those as a kid.”

Draco wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He couldn’t exactly rub in the fact that he’d
had one since he’d learn to crawl. “Teddy looks to be an excellent flyer already. I’m surprised
Scorpius was even willing to get on the broom, to be honest. He’s not a fan of flying.”

At that, Harry’s lips quirked up in a little smile. “Well, Malfoy, a good friend can get you into
all sorts of scrapes.”

“Ha!” Malfoy couldn’t contain his puff of amusement. “And I’m sure an even better one can
get you out of them.”

Harry couldn’t help the hearty laugh that welled up from within him. “Yes, I’m sure
Hermione’d agree,” he paused for a moment, “But I’m sure you know all about that.”

“Pardon?”

Oh Merlin. “Well, you two seem to have become good enough friends for her to help you out
on a tough day.” Harry hesitated for a moment and then added, “And Luna and I’d definitely
look out for Scorp in a pinch, too, since him and Teddy seem to get on so well.”

Draco to ignore the insinuation that he and Granger were anything more than accidental,
prolonged acquaintances. “I appreciate it, Potter. I suppose I’ll have to extend that to you as
well, especially if the newspapers have it right about Lovegood.”

At that Harry got a goofy grin on his face. “If you hang around for a couple hours, you can
see for yourself. No hiding it – not that we’d want to.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile at the man's enthusiasm. He’d been just as ecstatic himself – so
much so he didn’t see Astoria’s growing bitterness at her situation. She’d never told him she
didn’t want children – in fact, she’d always waxed poetic about what it’d be like when they
had children. That had been when they were courting, though, and Draco now recognized it
for what it was – an attempt to ensure he wouldn’t oppose their parents’ plans for their
nuptials.

And it worked. He believed her. Believed they could try to be less fucked up versions of
their parents.

Well... that hadn’t happened.

But he had Scorpius. That was priceless.

Draco gazed at his son for a moment in adoration as he fell from his broom and gently floated
to the ground before getting up and hopping right back on.

As he stared at his son, he realized Potter was still talking. Rambling, in fact. He supposed he
should try to pay attention.

“- And I just worry because the Dysquith book says one thing about potty training but the
Atlenburg says another but both books say if you choose the wrong one, your child will
probably grow up to resent you, and I-”

“Potter, shut up,” Draco said, cutting the blabbering man off.

Harry looked confused, as if he’d been slapped out of a daze. “Pardon?”

“Potter, you have to live through the sleepless nights and teething and blowout nappies and
nearly crawling off the second-floor balcony before you get to think about potty training.”

Harry paled. “What is a blowout nappy?”

Draco smirked. “You know, Potter, I may be able to be civil to you if it means I can see your
face when you encounter your first blowout.”

Harry opened his mouth to needle him back, but Hermione crashed into a seat beside them,
sighing in exhaustion. Luna had asked her along to help her pick out things for the baby, and
it’d been a truly trying experience.

Harry opened a butterbeer and slid it toward her, recognizing the telltale signs of frustration
in his friend.

Hermione took a swig, thankful that someone had finally decided to turn alcoholic butterbeer
into a mass corporation. “Luna’s inside putting her purchases away,” Hermione said with a
roll of her eyes.

“Good trip then?” Harry asked.

“Harry, I don’t know how to break this to you lightly... Your child is going to sleep on a bean
bag.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “ Haha , very funny.”

“What’s a bean bag? And why is the Potter-Lovegood infant going to be sleeping on it
rather than in a crib, as is and has been the pediatric standard for, oh... decades?”

“I’m not laughing, Harry,” Hermione said before turning to Draco, “And it’s exactly as it
sounds. A big bag filled with beans made from foam.”

“Well, that’s not at all how it sounded,” Draco said with a scoff before lifting his butterbeer
to his mouth.

Without thinking, Hermione lifted her hand to tip his drink back further. When he started
coughing up his drink, she turned to Harry. “She wanted to go to muggle London. I said okay.
There’s plenty of baby shops there, I’m sure, so I figured we’d walk around until we spotted
one, yeah.”

“Oh, Hermione, no.”

“So, we were walking around, yeah? I had planned to hit the baby shops in Diagon, not
London, so we were running blind. Anyway, there’s a shop just absolutely exuding incense-”

“Please say psych! Please, Hermione!” Harry was pleading.

“Well, naturally, Luna caught the scent-”

“Naturally,” said Draco, finally catching his break after his near drowning.

“ So we ended up going in, and well... Harry! You should never have expected anything
else!”

Harry huffed. “I sent her with you because I was sure you’d have a more solid plan.”

“Well, I’m sorry baby shopping isn’t at the top of my expertise, Harold James Potter! Perhaps
you should have gone with

After a prolonged and tense moment of silence, Draco very slowly spoke, “Wait. Your name’s
Harold?”

Harry and Hermione both huffed in amusement.

“No,” Harry said. “That’s just what she calls me when she’s mad.”
“But seriously, Harry, you’ve got to start getting stuff ready. I know you and Luna are a bit
more... freewheeling, but she looks like she could pop at any second, and you’ve not even
acquired a crib.”

Draco took a deep breath, trying to convince himself to keep his mouth shut. However, he
wasn’t one to let a child go without, and Potter had been remarkably tolerable for the brief
afternoon they’d spent quietly watching their children fly amuck like little bats out of hell. He
cleared his throat and tried to prepare himself for the repercussions that would certainly
follow.

“You know, Potter, I’ve got a crib in storage. A couple, to be honest. I was so nervous in the
last few months before Scorp was born, and I bought pretty much every expensive crib I
could find. Putting them together by hand helped distract me, you know? You’re free to take
one. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor getting it out of my storage. I’ve some other bits
and bobs that Scorp has out grown too, if you really need it... well. Anyways.” He ended
his diatribe with a little cough before turning his head to take a sip of his beer.

Another silence descended on the group, but this one was less tense and held the weight of
change in the air. Hermione looked at Draco with a little smile on her face. How far they’d all
come since the war – since long before it, too. Here was Draco Malfoy, poster child of a
spoiled brat, sharing. With Harry Potter no less. He looked almost bashful and Hermione
reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, smiling when he looked at her, startled.

Harry was trying to keep himself from crying. He was not going to cry in front of Malfoy
for being a little bit more than halfway decent. Except he kind of was. “Thanks mate,” he
said, pushing his glasses onto his head to rub his eyes.

Draco kind of wanted to die. He may not hate Potter with the burning embitterment that
childish rivalries imbued, but the jump from enemy to vague acquaintance to mate was a bit
much for him. He almost retracted his offer. Almost.

“Mione!” Scorpius shouted, jumping off his broom and sprinting towards her.

“Aunt Mione!” Teddy shouted, following after his new friend.

Hermione accepted the boys’ attack with an oof and halfhearted protest.

Scorpius snuggled close her and buried his face in her hair. When Teddy pulled back, so did
Scorpius but Scorpius stayed seated in her lap while Teddy went to sit with Harry.

Luna came out in a colorful, patchwork dress and slowly lowered herself into the remaining
chair. The children very seriously look turns filling the women in on the particulars of their
play date. Eventually, though, Teddy wanted to play again, so Scorpius gave Hermione a big
hug and the children ran back to their training brooms.

The adults continued chatting, mostly catching up on Draco’s life to-date, since the rest of
them knew most of what was to know about the others. When he’d mentioned a mastery in
potions, Hermione was impressed. She’d not been bad at potions, but after the polyjuice
 incident of ‘92, she’d had a bit of a distaste for brewing. Too much could go wrong with one
slip up.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask him for his opinon on an old brewing manuscript the
archives had recently acquired, but Harry started speaking before she could organize how
she’d wanted to word the question.

“Why bother getting a potions mastery when you’re loaded?”

Hermine reached over and hit Harry on the arm. Hard. “Do not be rude, Harry.”

Malfoy for his part just laughed and shrugged. “Quidditch is rarely a long-term career, and I
honestly can’t imagine just sitting at home and twiddling my thumbs. If my career ended
tomorrow, I wouldn’t mind staying home with Scor until he’s off to Hogwarts, but I don’t
imagine I’d particularly enjoy being home alone once he’s gone.”

“I think that’s quite admirable, Draco. I’ve never been one for idle hands either,” Hermione
said, blushing a bit. Truly, it was impressive he was so hard working, and she found it
interesting he rather take up brewing in his later years than something quidditch adjacent like
coaching. She wondered what he’d look like in protective wear for brewing more volatile
potions. She knew it wasn’t practical, but a white doctor’s lab coat and a pair of glasses
appeared in her imagination, and she had to look away and take a pull of beer to cool herself
down.

Perhaps her question on ancient potions research and testing could wait for another time.

When they were alone.

Chapter End Notes

Manly dude bro bonding idk the opposite sex scares me. (This is a joke. Dismantle the
idea that men cannot be outwardly emotional or affectionate <3)

Quarantine updates? My ear isn’t beefy enough for an industrial bar piercing and also I
think I’m trying to become Pansy Parkinson?

Also I am officially in my last semester of my masters program, so in January yall have

blanket permission to harang me about not updating.
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

There had been a birth plan. They had a birth plan. Well, Harry had a birth plan. Luna
hadn’t seemed interested in making one, so he’d made one himself and stuck it up all over the
house in the hopes that she might actually notice it and read it. The birth plan was as
follows:

Luna goes into labor. It’s her first baby. (The healers and all the books assure him it will
probably be slow going. They’ll have plenty of time to get things together before
rushing to St. Mungo’s.)
Bring Luna to the hospital to get settled.

Drop Teddy off with someone. Options: Hermione (preferred), Andromeda (also good,
but wants to be at the hospital with them if possible), or Molly (great, but feeds him too
many snacks, and then he has too much energy to sleep).
Return to the hospital.
Hold Luna’s hand. Maybe practice some of the breathing stuff he read about
(worked really well when he did it on a particularly stressful day at work.)
Luna has baby.
Harry holds the baby.

Harry cries so hard someone has to take the baby away from him so he doesn’t drop it.
(Hermione added that bit when revising the plan for him, but Harry decided to leave it
in because she was usually right).
Introduce their beautiful, perfect child to all of their friends.
Go home and begin their new normal.

Yes.

That was the plan. That plan did not happen.

It all started when Luna let out a soft, “Oh!” at the breakfast table as she jellied her toast.

“What is it, love?” Harry asked, cleaning his glasses on his sleep shirt while he waited for his
coffee to brew.

“I’m in labor,” Luna said, relaxing a bit as her contraction eased a bit. She took a test bite of
her toast before applying a bit more jelly.

Harry’s glasses fell to the floor. “What? You can’t be! It’s too early!”

“Well, Dear, I don’t think the baby agrees. Might you be a dear and ask Andromeda to come
and assist? Oh, and drop Teddy somewhere, too? He shouldn't be here for this.”
Harry quickly shoved his glasses back on his face and opened the pantry to stare at one of his
birth plan posters. “No, Luna first it’s - well, first is you go in labor, but you’ve done that, so
now we go to the hospital.”

Luna chuckled a bit. “Oh no, Hary, my contractions are far too close for floo travel or
apparation .”

“But- but- your water hasn’t broken and- and mucous plug- and the plan!” All the words
from those stupid books were jumbled up in his head.

“Harry, remember your Lamaze breathing. Deep breath in-” they both breathed in. “And long
breath out.” They breathed out. “Feeling better now?”

“No, Luna! Hermione’s out of the country to pick up a new acquisition for work, and her
return portkey isn’t until this evening! Molly and Arthur are having their biweekly date night,
and I’ve no clue where they go when they do that! The other option is Andromeda, but
you’ve just said you want her here!”

Harry was panicking. He was really panicking. Then Luna placed her hand on her stomach,
wrinkled up her eyebrows and nose, and let out a low hum letting him know that the
contractions really were close, and this really was happening.

“Okay! Okay. Go lay down in bed. I’m going to go get Andromeda to sit with you, and then
I’ll drop Scorpius with – uh – with Malfoy. Sure. Okay. Yes.”

Luna nodded slowly, her face still a bit scrunched up. “That sounds like a lovely plan, Harry.”

“Right!” Harry said. “Yes! A plan. Yes.” Then he turned on his heel and ran to grab Teddy
and apparate to Malfoy’s place.

Malfoy wasn’t totally sure how he’d ended up with his first cousin once removed shoved into
his arms. He wasn’t totally sure, but he had a rather good idea. If Potter’s panic were
anything to go by, Lovegood was about to pop. Even though he’d and Astoria’d been on the
outs long before she’d gotten to that point, he’d been just as panicked. Panicked to be a
father. Panicked for his son’s safe birth. Panicked for Astoria, whose health had never been
good.

He looked at Teddy, disheveled, still in his pajamas, and clearly very nervous. Draco softened
his expression. “Well it seems your Aunt Luna and Uncle Harry will have a new baby for you
to look after when you get back. Now, would you like to go back to sleep or have some
brekky and tea with me while we wait for some news?”

Teddy’s hair slowly faded to a pale, Malfoy blonde. “Can we have pancakes?”

“Yes, I believe I can manage that.”

“Wicked.”
-

When Hermione got back to her office in the archives, she saw the hurried note from Harry
on her desk, an emergency owl post stamp on one side of the parchment. She ripped the
barely attached seal and unfolded the note, heart pounding as she read what she already knew
the note to be. She quickly went secured her new acquisition according to ministry archiving
procedures and the flooed to Luna and Harry’s place .

Everything was terrifyingly silent. Hermione had never had a child, but she was certain there
was some sort of screaming or crying involved. Hermione felt a chill go down her spine.
Perhaps Teddy is in another room somewhere, and they’ve silenced the room for his sake,
Hermione thought, trying to comfort herself. She climbed the stairs and went straight for the
master bedroom. The door was wide open and Hermione hesitated a moment before peeking
inside.

Harry was unconscious beside a small bassinet that was laid on the floor, his hand dangling
over the side. Hermione carefully crept closer to get a look at the baby.

“No need to be so quiet, Hermione,” Luna said, her serene voice shocking Hermione so much
she almost screamed. “Harry won’t wake up. He’s exhausted. I have heard having a baby
does that to a person.”

Hermione laughed, not believing it was Harry who had collapsed after the labor. A small
gurgle sounded from the bassinet and Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, really Hermione, I’m sure they don’t mind. Well, Ophelia might, but I don’t think
Horatio will. He’s a quiet boy, really.”

Hermione froze, her hand still covering her mouth. What? Huh? Suddenly, she sprung
forward, rushing the rest of the way towards the basinet and peering inside.

Two small faces peered back at her. Both with their father’s dark hair but sporting their
mother's gray eyes. Two babies. Two . A boy and a girl from the sounds of it, though with
Luna one never really knew.

She reached down and caressed a cheek of each baby before turning back to Luna. She was
sweaty, but she looked completely normal aside from that. Her messy hair and calm gaze. It
was then that she noticed Andromeda sitting and smiling at Hermione’s awe.

“Oh!” Hermoine exclaimed, remembering the reason she’d come. “I imagine Molly has
Teddy then?”

Andromeda chucked, “No, dear. Teddy is with my nephew today. Harry dropped him this
morning.”

“With Draco? Oh, well... You said since this morning. I suppose I should go get him then. He
can stay with me tonight, Luna, since you lot need some rest.”

Luna hmmed and watched as Hermione attempted to inconspicuously fix her hair.
“Well, if you’ll be staying with Draco, is it too much to ask Teddy stay with you, too? Only,
as you said, I am a bit ragged.”

Hermione choked on her spit and Andromeda let out a bark of laughter before smothering it
for the sake of Hermione.

“Beg your pardon, Luna?” Hermione asked carefully, knowing Luna wasn’t always the most
aware of what she was saying.

“Would you keep Teddy tonight? I’m sure you might seduce Draco once Teddy and Scorpius
are asleep.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. Andromeda was nearly in tears as she held back her laughter.

“I am not trying to- Why on Earth- Luna, I meant that I would take Teddy to stay with me at
my apartment, not Draco,” Hermione said, her face burning with embarrassment .

“Oh, yes, but that’s not what you want. Really, I’m shocked you’ve gone this long without
jumping one another.”

“Luna!”

“I have to agree with her, Hermione,” Andromeda said, leaning back in her chair and looking
up at the girl. “You and that nephew of mine can’t seem to go a week without seeing one
another nowadays.”

“Well, we’ve just become friends! And I like to spend time with Scorpius. And-”

“No need to explain yourself to me, dear,” Andromeda said. “But if I may give you a word of
advice? You don’t need to become friends with someone before dating. You’re a gryffindor .
You’re allowed to jump in headfirst.”

Hermione huffed and walked out of the room, intending to flood to Malfoy’s to get Teddy
and then head straight home. But just as she reached the mantel, she spun on her heel and
stomped back to the room everyone was in and sat at the end of the bed.

“You don’t understand, Andromeda. Nothing about this is easy.”

“What’s not easy?” Andromeda asked, determined to work through the issues for the
happiness of her friend and her nephew.

Hermione looked at her like she was a dolt. “Our past, perchance?”

Andromeda nodded. “Yes, he was unforgivably awful to you.”

“Well,” Hermione side. “I wouldn’t say unforgivable. He was awful, no doubt, but he’s
changed. He’s a better man than his father could have ever been; then his father would have
ever let Draco be if he’d had his way.”

“Well, what is it then?”

Hermione sighed.

Luna, her eyes fluttering closed, simply said, “There is a child involved , Andromeda.” Her
voice betrayed no fatigue, but her eyes remained closed. Hermione couldn’t tell if she had
fallen asleep or not.

“Is she right, Hermione? Is it because he has Scorpius?” There was a harshness to
Andromeda’s eyes when she asked the question.

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “It is and it isn’t. I really like Draco. Truly. But I love
Scorpius. I would never want to hurt him.”

“You would never hurt him, Hermione. You know that. We all do. We all have you with him.
That boy adores you.”

“I know, Andromeda. But what if I ask Draco out and he’s not interested and all of a
sudden I’m not around anymore? Or what if, for some reason, he is interested, but we don’t
work out? Then I have step out of Scorpius life. And I can’t do that. I know how that feels.”

At that, Andromeda stood from her chair and sat next to Hermione on the bed, placing an arm
around the young woman’s shoulders. “What do you mean.”

“My parents. They won’t talk to me. When I restored their memories, they were so mad. So,
so mad. They stopped talking to me and, well, I thought they’d come ‘round, you know?”

“But they didn’t?” Andromeda asked.

“No,” Hermione said, not realizing her tears had managed to break free. “No, they didn’t.”

“I’m sorry dear,” Andromeda had said. She’d had no idea.

“ So do you see why I couldn’t put Scorpius in that situation now? I could never hurt a child
like that.”

Andromeda ran a finger through Hermione’s hair the way she’d always done whenever Tonks
was frustrated or upset. She began to plait her hair as she spoke. “Hermione, you’re such a
smart girl, but there is one thing you have yet to learn – you stop people from loving you and
you cannot stop yourself from loving them. Now you listen to me. Draco is a smartass. A
self-assured, obnoxious, smartass. But do you believe he would ever her Scorpius?”

Hermione tried to shake her head but Andromeda kept a firm hold on the braid. “No, he
would never.”

“Then why do you think he’d stop you from seeing Scorpius when he knows how that would
hurt him?”

Hermione sighed. “You’re right, but what does it matter? He’s him and I’m me! What are the
chances he would feel that way for me?”

“What are the chances you would feel that way for him?” Luna’s calm voice asked.
 Well... the chances seemed very good indeed.

Chapter End Notes

Hello. I am SWEATY. I am STRESSED. And I am FALLING DOWN A RABBIT

HOLE OF PRESSURE COOKER RECIPES. How are you? :^)
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Hermione had only been to Malfoy’s place a few times since their unconventional
reacquaintance months prior, but he’d added her to his floo list right away. She wasn’t fully
sure why he’d done it, and she hadn’t wanted to seem rude so she didn’t ask. She’d just been
flattered and added him to her own floo list as soon as she’d gotten home. As she stepped
into the floo at Luna and Harry’s, she felt a tingle go up her spine. She’d never actually
flooed to Malfoy’s place, and to floo in without an appointment seemed to intimate.

‘But it seems everyone knows that’s I want anyway,’ Hermione thought, her embarrassment
turning to annoyance. It was one thing when Ginny was joking about it every chance she got.
She could ignore that. Convince herself it was an absurd joke. Convince herself she wasn’t
interested in her childhood bully.

Acting like it was a big joke became a bit more difficult when everyone in your life thought
you were interested in the man. Hermione had barely even come to terms with the fact that
she was interested in him. Now she had to floo into his home. Great. Well, waiting longer
wasn’t going to change anything, so Hermione grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw
it into the fire.

In moments she appeared in Malfoy’s floo and was momentarily distracted by the lack of
soot that followed. That didn’t last long as she was almost immediately dogpiled on by
Scorpius and Teddy. She let herself be pulled from the fireplace and towards a sofa. Scorpius
climbed into Hermione’s lap and Teddy kneeled on the cushion beside her, eyes wide with the
news he knew she had.

Hermione put her arms around Scorpius and turned her attention to Teddy. “Well, Teddy,
you’ll be staying with me tonight, but tomorrow morning we can go and see everyone.”

Teddy grabbed her arm, eyes wide and hungry for more information. “What’s the baby’s
name? Is it a boy or a girl? Do you think it’ll like me? Will I be allowed to hold it
tomorrow?”

“Teddy, if you don’t take a moment to breathe between sentences, when can you expect your
aunt to answer you? Draco spoke up from the lush armchair he’d been lounging in since her
arrival, his chin propped up in his hand and his head tilted in amusement.

Merlin, that man was handsome. She turned back to Teddy and readied herself for the big
reveal.

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out to really build Teddy’s interest. Scorpius had turned in
her lap to listen to her as well, sensing what she had to say was going to be interested. “I
think Luna and Harry will be happy to show you how to hold a baby tomorrow. Babies do
take a bit of time to get to know you, but I can’t imagine anyone not liking you,” she said,
reaching out to pinch his cheek. “As for whether it’s a boy or a girl, well... it seems Luna
couldn’t decide, so she just had one of each.”

“TWO?” Teddy asked, his hair now rotating through the colors of the rainbow as it
sometimes did when he was really excited . “OH MAN! Why can’t we go now? What are
their names?”

“It’s late now, so we have to let everyone get some sleep. Horatio and Ophelia will still be
there tomorrow morning.”

Scorpius spoke up then, his forehead a little crinkled in confusion. He’d never heard of twins
before. “If they were born at the same time, how do you know which one is which?”

“They look a lot alike, but they don’t look exactly alike. You could probably tell them apart if
you squint, but I bet it will get easier as we get to know them and they get older.

That seemed to put him more at ease, so he simply said “cool” and leaned back into
Hermione.

Draco stood up, then. “I suppose they’ll need a second crib. I’ll shrink one down if you can
bring it to them tomorrow.”

Hermione nodded that she would and Teddy jumped up to follow Draco. “I want to help
pick the crib. They’re basically my brother and sister, so I bet I know what they’d liked.”

Draco simply continued up t he stairs, walking slowly so Teddy could keep up.

Hermione gave Scorpius a squeeze and he giggled sitting up and twisting to look at her.
“How has your day been, Scor? Did you have fun with Teddy?”

Scorpius nodded. “I like having someone to play with. Teddy is so lucky. He gets two more
people to play with!”

“He’s your family, Scorp . You’ve got family in him.”

Scorpius leaned against Hermione. “I guess. Do you have brothers and sisters , Mione?”

She shook her head. “I was an only child, just like you."

She was smiling, but Scorpius sighed and leaned against her. “I want a brother. Or a sister! I
wouldn’t be picky!”

Hermione was certain the little boy looked up at her then, his big eyes obscured by his long,
pale lashes. Hermione felt like everyone was conspiring against her. The universe had lined
them all up as dominos and they were finally ready to knock them over. The gods were
playing pinochle and the winners would decide her fate.

For the umpteenth time that week, she silently lamented her luck. Just a few months ago
she’d been hesitant to even ask Malfoy for a favor, and nowadays most of her dreams
centered around Draco Malfoy in his quidditch uniform.
Or potions master robes.

Or, just once, she’d dreamt he was a ballet dancer and they’d met in the lobby after she done
her annual attendance of the nutcracker.

And now, here was this man’s adorable son sitting in her lap, looking at her like she could
give him what he wanted. She wondered briefly if Andromeda had accidentally influenced
Scor’s thoughts. It was nerve wracking. Andromeda had told her to give Draco a chance.
Luna had implied much the same. And she wanted to – Merlin she wanted to give dating
him a shot. But how could one enter lightly into a relationship where a child was involved?
The what-ifs ricocheted from one side of her brain to the next. But then she remembered
what Andromeda’d said, the what-ifs stopped ricocheting and started merely bouncing. If
she were very careful, they might crash into anything and cause irreparable damage.

Scorpius had briefly left her lap to grab some of the drawings he’d made since they’d seen
each other last. The drawings had been stuck all around the living room with what Hermione
assumed were gentle sticking charms by how easily Scorpius pulled them down. They’d been
placed at awkward intervals, just low enough that Scorpius could admire his own work and
high enough that his father could as well with a bit of a squat. The room was decorated in
tender tokens of affection – Father's Day cards, messy scribbles and stick figure drawings,
photographs of their lives together, crafts they’d made together.

The man who carefully preserved the little things that he and his son shared wouldn’t enter
into a relationship lightly, she was sure. She was almost certain he wouldn’t freeze her out,
either. She had become close to Scorpius, and the neuvo Malfoys were certainly and swiftly
working their way into Hermione closest circle of friends.

Scorpius crawled back into her lap then and started eagerly gabbing about his different
drawings. Hermione remembered sitting her mother’s lap and showing off her drawings and
early school marks in the same way. Hermione pointed out what she liked about the drawings
- “I like your use of circles here” and “I think the yellow and purple together look really cool
here.” Scorpius beamed and preened under her praise and she smoothed his hair, brimming
with affection herself.

She had been so focused on hurting Scorpius and Draco and, to be quite frank , herself that
she hadn’t really allowed herself to think of how things would be if for once - just one time –
everything went right. It was a pipe dream, but it was one she was willing to give it a chance.

Teddy came barreling back down the steps, a shrunken crib clutched in his fist like a
dollhouse accessory. Draco followed behind and leisurely lowered himself back into his
armchair, watching as his son and his cousin’s son fought for the attention of the beautiful
witch sat on his sofa. He wondered if he might try vying for her attention as well. She would
reject him, no doubt, but he could be very persistent.

And very persuasive.

Chapter End Notes

Draco gets to be angsty next, don’t worry.

Also, just ate my first enchilada ever while listening to WAP for the first time ever, so
you could say I’m thriving.
 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Hermione had quite made up her mind that she would pursue Draco. Carpe diem, et cetera, et
cetera. Hermione could talk herself into something given enough time, but there was rarely a
time when she could talk herself out of doing something once she’d decided on it. Harry’d
fondly called it stubbornness. Her parents had told her it was her gift of determination.

Whatever it was, she was putting together a plan. She’d thought briefly of asking for Ginny’s
help, but unfortunately, she had the gift of the gab, and Hermione saw her as a liability in this
scenario. Besides, she’d made so many jokes about Hermione looking like she’d fit into the
little Malfoy family unit, and Hermione couldn’t bring herself to admit that was exactly what
she’d like after such adamant denials. She’d have to do it on her own.

Coming up with a plan was tough, though. Hermione’s dating history had been limited, and
she’d never really had to be the pursuer. Viktor had asked her our and Ron had all but
assumed they were together – and she’d let him. So she had to fall back on her books. She’d
spent the weekend after the Potter twins were born lounging in her home reading a bunch of
the cheap modern romances, she’d also looked down her nose at. Really they were quite
good, and excellent research materials.

Everything indicated that she should be casually bumping into at places, and she’d felt
decidedly accomplished in knowing that. She was ahead of the curve, as per usual. Many of
the books also indicated an initial animosity between the love interests. Been there done that
– for years, in fact!

The only thing they were really lacking was the titular turning point – the obvious moment of
revelation. But how could one orchestrate their own denouement? Hermione created a vague
outline of a plan in the same way she’d create strategic collection development plans for the
archives. It took her a full month to finally settle on a solid list of goals – checkpoints to
ensure she was moving in the right direction.

The first checkpoint: obtain compliments on her appearance.

Hermione generally hated it when people commented on her looks. She much preferred
comments on her accomplishments. But that was because she wasn’t romantically interested
in people. She was interested in Draco Malfoy, and she wanted him to think she was well fit.
Besides, he’d complimented her work in the archives several times since their
reacquaintance. He had even offered to reconnect her with his friend, Theodore Nott, who
was working on teaching and improving magical conservation techniques.

Hermione had been a bit put out when he’d first suggested she meet up with Theo because
she’d thought he was trying to set her up, but as Draco continued to tell her about Theo’s
professional work, he mentioned Theo’s girlfiend. Hermione had felt notably relieved when
he’d mentioned it, and she hoped that her tension hadn't been evident to Draco.
Now, her first goal set and a goal deadline carefully selected for a generous month’s time,
Hermione was eager to get started. The best part of a plan was seeing it carried out
successfully, after all!

Although she’d decided to go to Ginny for – for lack of a better term – seduction advice, she
decided asking the witch for a bit of help with her wardrobe couldn’t hurt.

“Shopping?” Ginny’d asked, amazed that Hermione was offering to undergo her least
favorite past time. “You want to go clothes shopping? Are you ill? Are you interviewing?”

“No and no. I’ve just realized it’s been a good while since I’ve spruced up my day-to-day
wear is all. I’m looking positively year 2000.”

Ginny snorted. “Please, you act as if you haven’t been magically altering the same pair of
jeans you've worn you were 16.”

“A good pair of denim, well taken care of needs no replacement,” Hermione said haughtily.
A staple item was a staple item.

“Well, you’re getting some new staples today. Good Godric, I don’t like shopping either, and
I still manage to go more than you.”

“Do you want to go, or not?”

Ginny sighed and nodded. They apparated to a point near muggle London, and as they
walked arm in arm to one of their favorite shops, Ginny considered how best to broach the
subject of Malfoy.

Really, she’d never expected Hermione to fall for Malfoy thanks to one tiny bit of payback,
and she felt a bit guilty knowing that it’d been her silly whim that’d brought a whole
whirlwind to her friend’s life.

Then again, she also felt Hermione might throw her a bit of a bone. Well, lucky for Ginny,
Hermione was an organized genius who tacked a copy of her planner to her fridge for review.

“A Comprehensive Plan to Dating Draco Malfoy.”

Merlin. Geniuses really did the dumbest things.

Ginny was certain she was going to say something to Hermione while they shopped. All she
wanted to do was let Hermione know that she understood what was going on and that she’d
support this unexpected turn of emotional events.

But the way Hermione touched and turned each piece of clothing her hand told Ginny this
was more intimate of an issue than she’d anticipated. Hermione scrutinized the quality and
style of each piece of clothing she looked at, judging its potential service to her. Ginny gently
steered Hermione in the direction she thought was more apt for the task at hand.

“Oh, that shirt with that pair of jeans you grabbed early would be so hot, but you could totally
pair it with a skirt to make it business casual or maybe, like, casual date wear.”
Hermione perked up a bit and nodded, gently folding the garment into her shopping basket
and then moved quickly over to the skirt rack to find something that matched.

So obvious, Ginny thought.

Hermione couldn’t keep the pep out of her step, and Ginny felt the need to tease her rise. The
only thing tamping that want down was the desire to see Hermione go on a damn date with a
man that had at least the barest understanding of manners. Harry and Ginny and even the
twins once or twice had gone out of their way to give Draco and Hermione the opportunity to
run into each other since they’d rather hit it off after the babysitting excursion.

Ginny pulled a few skirts she knew Hermione wouldn’t normally consider and tossed them at
her.

“First skirt’s flirty, second datey, third more casual.”

“Hmm.” Hermione found a mirror and held each against her waist, imagining what she could
wear with each before tossing all three into the basket with a frustrated huff. “Whatever. I’ll
just get them and figure it out once I get home.”

“Ah, frustration. A natural step in the shopping process.”

Hermione glared and threw an ugly hat at her friend. “Don’t you ever feel the need to just...
just look nicer? And it feels like no matter what you put on, it just doesn’t look right?”

“Of course I do, Mione. Sometimes all you can do is tell yourself you look nice until you
realize it’s true.”

“Fake it til you make it?” Hermione asked.

“Just so. But Mione, I promise those skirts will look positively stellar on you. And honestly, I
could probably guess what Malfoy's gonna wear half the time anyway, so really you’ve a
50% chance of matching up with him if you listen to me.”

“Pardon?” Hermione asked, her voice at least a pitch higher than normal. Ginny recognized
her mistake immediately.

There were two options: play it off or double down.

Well, no one ever called Ginevra Weasley a coward.

“I just think if you’re going to go the effort of bullet pointing a list of how to get Malfoy to
fall all over himself for you pinning it to your fridge for review while your morning coffee
brews, you’ll take the extra effort to listen to a woman who's had many a man – and woman
for that matter!”

“I- uh,” Hermione stuttered a bit before finding her words. “It’s an outline, not a list!”

“What is the difference?” Ginny asked, incredulous that this was what Hermione had deemed
worth commenting on.
“A list is a list. An outline leaves room for expansion and fleshing out. It’s a start – just a
start!”

Ginny leaned lightly on top of a clothing rack in exasperation. “Whatever! Listen, putting
aside the fact that you clearly didn’t tell me – your best bitch, might I add – I am going to be
gracious enough to extend the subtle arts of womanly wiles.”

“You? Subtle?”

“Shut up. It’s just like quidditch: strategy, appropriate plays, on the fly saves, and finding
their week spots.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Gin?” Hermione asked as she moved to get in the
checkout queue.

“You’ve got some really cute points on your – uh – outline, but this is the real world which
means you have to account for more than just you and him. Consider ”

They crept forward in line. “I’ve included Scorpius in my outline as well, Ginny. If I ever
thought he’d be uncomfortable with Draco and I – um – becoming better friends, you know I
wouldn’t pursue it.”

They were at the front of the line now and Ginny sighed and held her tongue while Hermione
paid. As soon as they were out the door, Ginny stopped in front of Hermione. “I know you’d
never do anything to hurt Malfoy’s kid, and honestly, I can’t imagine that kid objecting to
you being around more. You are very smart, Hermione, but you are not exactly a people
person. You don’t really care to look far beyond your circle of friends and personal interests.”

Hermione felt her guard rise. She did too pay attention.

Ginny could tell Hermione was getting ready to shut her out of this particular topic again, so
she rushed to finish her thought. “Malfoy is a famous quidditch player who is, loath as I am
to admit it, a good player. Not to mention people seem to find him attractive,” Ginny said,
feigning a gag.

Hermione swatted her arm and blushed. “I happen to be people in this scenario, Ginny.”

“Yes, well, nobody's perfect, I suppose. Not even you,” Ginny said. They’d started walking
again, nowhere in particular. “My point is, quidditch groupies aren’t going to back off Malfoy
just because you’re friends now. You’ve got to factor them into your game plan! You don’t
create a quidditch play without accounting for a stray bludger or two, do you?”

Hermione realized what Ginny was trying to say, and she was embarrassed she’d not
considered it herself. Draco was in the spotlight constantly. The last time she’d watched
Scorp at one of the Canons’ games, Hermione had even noticed a group of men and women
all clad in replica Malfoy jerseys who cheered wildly every time he’d played a particularly
clever maneuver. Her stomach turned a bit. But she knew Draco. She wanted him for his
snarky attitude and his quick wit. She wanted him despite their past and despite his weird
 love of the caramel hard candies she hated. And yes, his looks didn’t hurt either, but at least
that wasn’t what her interest was grounded in. Surely he would know that.

“Well, I don’t see what that has to do with anything. All they’ve just as much right to like
him as I do. Really, Ginny, we’re adults.”

“I’m not saying you should go putting puking pasties in their milkshakes or anything, but you
could do something to just kind of send a message. Wear matching colors. Get caught
speaking together before a game or leaving together after. Send a message! It’s psychotic
something or other. Dean was telling me about it the other day.”

“Oh, it’s psychotic, alright! But I believe what Dean was talking to you about was
psychology.”

“Well, whatever, the point is -”

“And since when are you seeing Dean again?”

“The point is,” Ginny stressed, “that you could at least make it clear you’re in the running,
too.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and let Ginny pull her into a table at a random café. “Ridiculous,
really, Ginny. I’m sure I’ll fair just fine with my outline.”

But even as she went on to ask Ginny about her recent excursions with Dean, Hermione
couldn’t help but think that skirt Ginny had suggested really did seem to be one of Draco’s
favorites. It was rather pretty, too.

Chapter End Notes

Y’all didn’t really think I was gonna have Ginny just not be a part of the hijinks, did
you?
Sorry updates are dragging. I’ve worked myself into a dark Hermione mood, so writing
fluff is ✨ odd ✨ Also I’m rereading the Twilight Saga because the pandemic overlords
have deemed it time, and it’s torture. ALSO also, if you haven’t read A Deadly
Education by Naomi Novik, please give it a shot. SO good, and it’s currently set to be a
trilogy.

**EDITED ON 3/14/21 - CONTINUITY ERROR**

 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

It wasn’t often that Draco Malfoy pulled his cards. They’d barely touched on it in divination
– even Trelawney had dismissed the practice as more of a psychological practice than a
magical practice – but it was a part of the Ministry dictated curriculum, so he’d at least had
an introduction.

Draco Malfoy quite liked tarot cards. As a juvenile, he’d found the practice of manipulating
his friends through readings quite helpful: convincing Blaise to be more mischievous than
usual, comforting Millie when her cousin was admitted to Mungos , giving Pansy a love
reading that outraged her so much she’d not spoken to him for a week – it was all very self-
serving, sure, but he’d never lied.

Today, however, he was pulling for himself, and you could very rarely manipulate an
interpretation for yourself. You could lie to yourself and say they meant something else, but
you would know. You can run from yourself, but you can’t hide.

He set his intention as he shuffled the cards, feeling his magic hum in his fingertips: How do
I move forward with Hermione?

He chuckled as he placed three cards face down on his kitchen counter while his eggs sizzled.
He remembered Hermione’s own aversion to anything divine in school, and he was nearly
certain she’d feel he was being silly.

“What game are you playing, Dad?” Scorpius asked, not at all inconvenienced by his mouth
full of cereal.

“It’s not a game, Scor,” Draco said, moving to turn off the stove before motioning for
Scorpius to stop eating for a moment and join him. When the little boy’d come to stand by
his father, Draco lifted him up and sat him on the counter beside the cards.

“The cards are the same,” Scorpius said, his entire face pulling together in confusion.

“No, Scor, they’re face down. The backs are all the same but the fronts are different.”

“How do you know?”

Draco chuckled and flipped the first card, keeping his question in his mind.

What brings us together?

IV of Pentacles.

Stability.
Interesting. Stability wouldn’t have been the word he would use to describe the relationship
between he and Granger. Then again, they had been in one another's lives for over a decade.
Perhaps that could at least be called consistent. Not to mention he knew now that he could
depend on her in a pinch. He wondered if she knew she could depend on him, too.

“ Ohhh ,” Scorpius said at the pretty illustration, and Draco let him flip the next one.

What keeps us apart?

V of Cups.

Loss, disappointment.

Scorpius sniffed at the image of the sad looking man and tried to hop from the counter, but
his father caught him mid - air and lowered him gently to the ground. He hurried back to his
cereal, suddenly worried it might become soggy.

This card was always a bit of a blow to receive. He’d tended to identify more with the sense
of disappointment – being a disappointment, that is. Disappointing his father, his friends, his
ancestors. Clearly , he was a disappointment to Astoria, or she’d not have left. That wasn’t
so much a loss, though, as it was a disappointment to him. He’d not ached for her when she
left, but for their son. Halfway through her pregnancy , she’d decided life as a Malfoy was
not as ethereal as she’d imagined it growing up, and she wasn’t at all keen on being a mother
either.

So she’d left.

Draco was only grateful she’d left before Scorpius could ever know her and that she’d had
the decency to quickly sign her parental rights over when he’d asked.

No, Astoria wasn’t a loss. The loss he was afraid of was losing Hermione. That was always
the fear, wasn’t it? That going after what he really wanted would only make the inevitable
loss that much more pronounced on what remained of his soul. Would his asking her out ruin
what friendship they’d built? Or would she agree only for it all to fall apart later?

Draco looked back at his son and was reminded that good things could happen to him.
Regardless of what happened Hermione would still be around as a friend. He couldn’t doubt
that. Maybe it would be awkward, but they’d get over it.

Draco turned his attention back to the final card. He took a deep breath and then flipped it.

What will bring positive progress?

STRENGTH

Balance, compassion, understanding... bravery.

Well.
Easier said than done. He might not be in school anymore, but house traits generally stuck
with you. He couldn’t really say compassion, understanding, and bravery were among his
talents. He suppressed a groan and pushed the cards back into the deck.

As he ate his well - burnt eggs, Draco determined rather begrudgingly that Hermione was
probably worth learning a new skill or two.

Although Draco had decided that he was going to have to buck up and pursue Hermione,
he’d expected to have a bit of time to prepare a plan for how best to woo her. Instead, it
seemed as if Hermione was there any time he went anywhere besides the pitch or his home.
Had he not known his divination quite well, he might have thought he’d willed these run - ins
into reality.

He tried to convince himself that each meeting was an opportunity to put forward an effort,
but every time he managed to get a flirtatious comment past the lump in his throat and over
the knot in his tongue, it seemed to fly over her head. It wouldn’t bother him so much if
she’d just respond the tiniest bit – even if it was her cutting him off with a clear refusal.

As it were, it was as if she hadn’t processed his flirtation at all. Two weeks of random
encounters and both his best as worse lines, and she’d not done more than chuckle a little as
if he were telling her a joke (which, really, the bad lines did warrant).

He was getting to the point where he was wondering if she found him attractive at all.
Perhaps he just wasn’t her type? That was a hard pill for him to swallow after so many years
of being most peoples’ type, at least physically.

He was beginning to spend an untenable amount of time in his closet, trying to figure out
what he should wear just in case he bumped into her before giving up and throwing on a
button - up and light blue sweater with some denims. He wasn’t planning on going out
anyway. Scorpius had stayed with his nana the previous night and wasn’t due back until the
afternoon, so Draco planned to simply lounge about, respond to some letters, and catch up on
his reading.

No risk of running into Hermione Granger.

So when his floo alerted him to someone trying to come through he was a bit floored when
the woman herself walked out of the green flames once he’d dropped his wards.

“Hermione, uh, hullo,” Draco said confused and more than a bit embarrassed to be caught at
his leisure.

“Hello, Draco! You look quite relaxed. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your game?”

The quidditch season had just recently ended, so he wasn’t really following her.

Hermione, expecting the confusion, clarified: “The charity game. You asked me to watch
Scor during the game?”
Draco’s face scrunched up for a fraction of a second before he realized what she was talking
about. “Oh, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong date. The charity game is next week.”

“Oh rats,” Hermione said, pulling her agenda from her bag, “I’m sure I put it down for
today.”

She flipped to today’s date and offered the agenda to him, pointing at her little note
annotating the game. It had pained her to write the date down incorrectly, but her plan
necessitated it.

Draco took her planner and frowned, fully aware of how seriously she took her schedule. “I
must have given you the wrong date. I’m terribly sorry.”

Hermione took her agenda back then before he could flip to the next week and see she had
the event scribbled under the correct date as well. “Oh, I’m sure it was just my brain being a
bit muddled. Work has been a bit hectic.”

“Oh?” Draco inquired, moving back so she could walk further into his home.

Hermione moved straight towards the couch and let her bag crash to the floor as she made
herself comfortable on the cushions. “The cut off for submissions across several annually
published journals is coming up, so I'm afraid I’m being swamped with irate and sleep -
deprived academics and researchers.” She looked back at Draco and squinted. “Are you
wearing glasses ?”

Draco stood still for a moment, confused, before quickly remembering his reading glasses
and pulling them off. “Ah, yes, well... I just wear them for reading.”

“One too many bludgers to the head mess with your sight, eh?” Hermione joked, wishing
he’d put the glasses back on.

Draco slid the glasses into his pocket, “I’ll have you know, I’ve always been far - sighted. It’s
what allows me to plan so well.”

“Very funny.”

“Why thank you,” Draco said, giving a little bow. “Tea?”

“Please,” she said, then quickly realized he’d never actually invited her in. “You don’t mind
if I stay for a bit, do you? Only, I’d like a bit of company since I’ve not got any plans. And
I’ve made all these biscuits I’d planned to share with Scor and the other kids.”

“You’re always welcome here, Hermione,” Draco said, letting a small silence stretch between
them. Then, “Put the biscuits on the table, though. You don’t get tea for nothing.”

“Ha!” Hermione did as she was told. She’d made a double batch of the biscuit dough, too, so
it’d be quite easy to remake the treats for the children the following week. Really, it was quite
an efficient plan she’d come up with.
 When Draco returned to the living room, he’d managed to calm himself significantly. As he
sat the mugs of tea on the coffee table, he noticed the long powder blue skirt Hermione was
wearing and huffed a small laugh, startling Hermione.

“It would seem that we’re matching,” Draco said, indicating his own sweater that he was not
quite glad he’d chosen.

Hermione felt her cheeks heat a bit at his observation. “Seems so.”

“You look quite nice, by the way,” Draco said, sitting down across f ro m her.

“Thanks. Or are you just saying that because I’ve accid en tally dressed like you?” She joked.

Draco looked up from his task of sugaring his tea to ungodly proportions. “No. I’ve said it
because it’s what I’m usually thinking, is all.”

“Ah,” Hermione said, looking down to her own mug of tea to hide her burning cheeks and
pleased smile.

Well. That was ‘ obtain a compliment ’ o f f her list , then .

And matching outfits, too, she thought. That will tickle Ginny, no doubt.

Chapter End Notes

"Happy New Year!" she said, fully aware that January is basically over.

Draco is a divination ho, you cannot convince me otherwise.

 Chapter 12

If Hermione had known she’d tick the complement off her list, she’d have forced herself to
recall at the second goal at the very least. As it were, she was nearly shaking with happiness
and excitement and her brain was feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges. She was starting to
understand why people enjoyed the whole dating scene.

She fixed her tea just how she liked and motioned for Draco to take a biscuit, only to realized
he’d already managed to grab one and dip it in his tea.

“As if your tea needs any more sugar,” Hermione said, bemused.

“No of course not,” Draco said, before biting off the saturated bit of the biscuit. “But I
thought your biscuits might, what your parents being teeth healers and all.”

Hermione wiggled a bit in her seat, and her smile seemed to stiffen into some unnatural
imitation of the real deal. “I am almost certain that you know they’re called dentists.”

“Have I said something to offend?” Draco asked, setting his half-eaten biscuit on the lid of
the tin. He’d have cringed at his oversight of not bringing out saucers if he’d not been so
worried he’d said something horribly wrong.

Hermione shook her head quickly, trying to calm him. “Not at all. I just don’t speak about my
parents very often, is all. It’s always a bit of a shock when they’re brought up, and worse still
when I’m not expecting it.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, ears burning slightly at his misstep. “I’d not known they were a topic
to avoid.”

Hermione huffed a bit in what Draco thought might be an attempt at a laugh. “How were you
to know if I’d not told you? No apology necessary, Draco. I mean it.”

Draco straightened from where he’d unwittingly leaned over the coffee table towards her.
“Might I ask why it is that you don’t like speaking about them? If you’d feel comfortable
sharing?”

Hermione sighed. Her plan had quickly been derailed into more serious terrain, but she
supposed it was best to have this talk now that the topic was approached rather than have it
loom between this as an uncomfortable sort of secret.

She looked him in the eyes. “I am comfortable. Telling you, I mean.”

He nodded, and she was certain that he understood what she was unsaid. I trust you.

“A cuppa more, then?”

“Oh yes,” Hermione said, “If I run out mid soliloquy, it will really break my concentration.
The tea is really necessary in setting the sad story mood.”
He paused where he was, just stood from his seat. He was afraid he’d said something wrong,
yet again.

“Shoo,” Hermione said, glad to have a moment to get her thoughts together. When he came
back and the two had sufficiently made up their drinks, she started again. “It’s really not a
very long story.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not significant.”

“Yes, quite right, well,” Hermione hesitated a moment before jumping straight into the
problem. “During the war, I removed my parents’ memories of me. Not only that, but I
changed their memories of themselves – their names, their experiences, their home.”

Draco inhaled sharply, choking a bit on his tea. Hermione braced herself for his response.
“Merlin, Hermione. Was it- was it not revers i ble?”

Hermione smiled a bit, comforted by his tender tone. “I was able to reverse it. But my parents
were understandably upset at what I’d done. My dad, he’s forgiven me. It’s awkward between
us, but he understands why I did it. Said he’d have done it to my gran and gramps if he were
in my shoes.”

When Hermione didn’t continue after a few beats of silence, Draco prompted her. “And your
mother?”

“Ah, my mother,” Hermione said savoring the warmth of the tea she’d managed to sip in their
moment of silence.

“You know, I see what you mean about the tea being necessary to the ambiance. It really adds
something.”

“Shush,” Hermione said, but she was smiling again. “Mum, well, she hasn’t forgiven me. She
won’t speak to me at all if she can help it. She leaves when she knows I’ll be ‘round. She
won’t even stop to yell at me. It’s obviously been a few years since I managed to reverse it,
and she still won’t speak to me. Sometimes when I’m seeing my dad, he’ll say ‘Mum says to
say hullo,’ but we both know he’s lying.”

Hermione took a deep breath in as if to continue speaking, but then she collapsed o nto the
couch, slumped and disappointed – in her mum and in herself for caring despite knowing
what she’d done was right.

“I think I can understand your mother a bit,” said, reaching for another biscuit.

Without thinking, Hermione reached out and slapped his hand. “You think I was wrong,
then?”

Draco pulled his hand back. This time he knew he’d said something uncomfortable, but he
knew it wasn’t wrong. “No, Hermione, I don’t think you were wrong. I’m a parent, though,
and I know if Scorpius did that to me, I’d be livid and petty and might even hold a grudge.”
Hermione winced a bit at the idea of sweet Scorpius ever having to make a life - altering
decision based on war wrought terror. “But you would understand, Draco. I can’t imagine
you could really stay angry at him. Get angry? Sure. But stay angry?”

“It’s not just anger, though, Hermione. And it’s not just directed outwards. I can’t speak for
your mother, but I know I would feel absolutely disgusted with myself if I, as a parent, failed
to protect my son from a situation warranting that decision. As a parent, my one job is to
protect my son. Quidditch is merely a paid hobby. It is Scorpius above all, and to fail to
protect him...” Draco trailed off, clearly distraught at the thought.

Rather than respond, Hermione continued to sip on her tea. She tried to imagine Scorpius in
the same position she had been in just a few years prior. The idea of any child being in that
position was horribly upsetting but to imagine Scorpius in it was especially distressing. She
became slightly nauseous at the thought. She knew how much Draco loved Scorpius – how
much she loved Scorpius – and she struggled to even imagine a world in which he would
feel like he had to brave the atrocities she did alone.

Ah.

Hermione stood abruptly and handed her mug to the still seated Draco. “Forgive me, Draco,
but I think I must run. This isn’t at all how I planned for this to go, but it’s been quite what I
needed.”

She gathered her things and quickly moved for the floo before turning on her heel and
heading back to Draco and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. And don’t eat all the
cookies before Scorpius gets back!”

With that, she headed back to the floo and this time did not hesitate to return to her own
apartment.

Draco sat, a mug in each hand and a half-eaten biscuit hanging from his lip, dazed for several
minutes. Truly, Hermione was a tornado of ideas and action, and although Draco adored it, he
did wish she might be a bit clearer with what she thought. Perhaps she might treat him like
those slow friends of hers occasionally. He might be able to make a fairly good guess at
where she was going, but that didn’t mean he could understand her completely. Was it too
much to tell a bloke what a kiss on the cheek meant? And what exactly had she planned on
discussing when she’d not intended to be there in the first place?

He sighed, popped the lid on the biscuit tin, and waited for Scorpius to return.
 Chapter 13

When Hermione arrived at her parents’ home in Nottingham, she wondered briefly if she
should have called first. Then she remembered that her mother did not stick around when
Hermione called and was glad she hadn’t. It was Saturday, so the clinic was closed, and
Hermione knew her mum would be reading her Journal of Endodontics with a mug of
chicory root coffee in place of actual coffee because coffee was far too caffeinated in her
opinion, thank you very much!

Hermione rang the bell quickly before she could lose her nerve.

When her father opened the door a half-minute later, his shock was apparent. He didn’t greet
her so much as stare. She’d not returned home without warning since before, well,
everything.

“Is Mum inside?” Hermione asked softly as to not give her mum reason to run out the back
door and hop the fence into the neighbors’ garden.

Hermione watched as her father’s face softened in understanding. Wrinkles carved into his
face and made him look old. He looked tired, but he smiled. “In the study, Love.”

She followed him inside, leaving her shoes on despite house rules. It was a habit of hers.
Always be ready to run. Her father turned into the kitchen, letting Hermione find her way to
the study. There she found her mother, Helena Granger sat on the floor and hunched over the
coffee table rather than her perfectly good desk.

Hermione knocked on the door jamb and her mother looked up, no doubt expecting to see
Hermione’s father. Hermione saw it then, as the surprise abated – the hurt and anger and
betrayal.

“Can I sit with you?” Hermione asked. Helena didn’t respond, so Hermione simply moved to
sit across from her. “I’m sorry, Mum.”

“So you’ve said,” her mother responded, turning her face back down towards her journal.

“This is different.”

“How so?” She still wouldn’t look at her.

Hermione reached across the table and touched her arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you for
help when I knew there was no avoiding the war – when I knew I’d have to leave.”

Helena’s hand clenched into a fist underneath hers and Hermione could see her mother
clenching her jaw. Hermione thought she might be holding back tears, but she couldn’t be
certain with her own tears blurring out her vision.
“I was an adult in the wizarding world, but I didn’t stop to consider that I was still your child
– that I could still rely on you and Dad.”

“We were so worried about you, Hermione. Every day since you went to that school, we were
worried. You were so far away, and all we wanted to do was protect you, to listen to you tell
us about your day, or to help you with your homework like we used to.”

“I know, mum. I know that.”

Mrs. Granger grabbed Hermione’s hand suddenly. “Then why? Why did you not believe that
your father and I would do anything – anything – to protect you? Why did you erase our
memories? In what world would living without our child be better than dying, Hermione?”

Hermione tried to respond, but she was crying so heavily that all she could manage was deep
and unsteady breaths.

“You might have taken our memory of you from us, but the heart doesn’t forget. When
Monica Wilkins saw a mother with her child, she knew that she was missing something. She
looked for something that wasn’t there.”

“I wanted to – to protect you,” Hermione stuttered out. “I knew you couldn’t fight against
magic, and I – I knew I couldn’t fight if somehow they got to you. I’m so sorry, Mum.”

Helena suddenly let go of her and left the table, and Hermione was sure she’d screwed things
up. She’d been certain she’d understood her mother after speaking to Draco, but she’d clearly
not figured out how to make amends. It took everything in her not to make a sound as she
cried – not to curl in on herself apparate straight home where she could lie in bed with all
the lights turned off and ignore her responsibilities until Monday morning.

Then her mother was kneeling beside her. In her fists was a hankie Hermione had sloppily
embroidered for her in a home economics class when she was small. Hermione thought for a
moment that her mum was offering it to her, but then the rough cotton was wiping softly
across her face. Her mother wiped her tears and snot and then folded the hankie and wipe
again until Hermione finally stopped crying.

The two women sat still, looking at one another for the first time in a long time. Eventually,
Hermione’s father came in with a tea tray and set it on the table. Instead of sitting on the
other side of the table, he squeezed into the space beside his wife and daughter. They jostled
sho u lders as they made up their teas. Despite how much tea she’d had at Draco’s home, she
made up a good cup. Nothing soothed the soul better than a cup of tea and a good cry, her
mum had told her when she was little.

Slowly they began to talk, sharing little bits of their life. Her parents had been glad to learn
that she was still close to Harry, and they told her to carry their congratulations to him. She
shared bits and pieces about her work, and they did the same. Hermione was surprised to
learn that her parents had hired on new dentists and were in the process of deciding if they
should sell the practice or keep it running for a passive income.
It was then that Hermione realized it wasn’t only her father who had aged – it was her
mother, too. They looked older than they were, and although Hermione had never imagined
her parents the type that would retire early, she could tell it was what they needed.

It was dark out by the time Hermione finally decided it was time for her to go. She had stayed
through dinner and had talked with her parents about things she didn’t even know she’d
wanted to tell them. At the door, Helena hesitated a moment before pulling her in for a hug.

“Next time you come we’ll get Indian food from that place two blocks down, hmm?”

Hermione nodded and then hugged her father goodbye as well. Hermione lingered on the
porch awkwardly for a moment, afraid that if she left everything would go back to the way it
had been before.

Hermione suspected her mum had felt the same way because she called Hermione a couple
of days late r to schedule their Indian food night. They ended up agreeing to meet at the
Granger house on Friday evening while Mr. Granger went out to the pub with some friends
and colleagues.

When Hermion e arrived at the house, her favorite saag paneer was on the table with a big
container of rice and another container of whatever her mum was trying out this time.

They had an awkward start of it. This was unsurprising as they’d both know there was no
cure, not even magical, for swiftly fixing a fractured relationship. It was uncomfortable but
doable. They puttered and stumbled over topics of discussion, doing their best to keep the
conversation going. Hermione’d gone through the same thing with her dad long ago and
they were doing pretty alright now.

It was natural that they would hit some awkward topics, but Hermione hadn’t expected it to
get much worse than accidentally calling out her mother on poorly covering her grays. Then
again, she should have planned to have to address the issue sooner rather than later.

“How has Ron been?”

Hermione choked on a piece of naan.

“Oh,” her mum said.

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “He was unfaithful.”

“Oh!”

“So I left.”

Her mum set her fork down and folded her hands under her chin. “I’m sorry that happened to
you, sweetie, but you did the right thing.”

Hermione nodded – there wasn’t really anything to say to that besides duh – and went back to
eating, but Helena didn’t pick her fork up again. After several silent moments, Hermione set
her fork back down, sensing their serious tone wasn’t quite done.
“Mum, what’s on your mind?”

“Hermione, I’m - I’m glad you c ame to talk to me like you did about, well, everything. I just
can’t help wondering what it was that helped you understand what I was too petty to say.”

“Mum!” Hermione said. “You weren’t petty! You were upset!”

Her mother sniffed, trying to hide her teary eyes with a false cold. “All the same, I should
have told you how I was feeling. I should have tried to make you understand.”

“You were too close to the situation, Mum,” Hermione said. “No one thinks clearly when
they’re close to the situation. Not even us.”

“All the same, I can’t help but wonder how you came to be so, well, so mature.”

Hermione sighed. “I wish I could just say it was just time – that it was inevitable I’d come to
understand eventually – but honestly it took a friend of mine explaining his perspective as a
parent to me. I’d never really factored your feelings of being a mum and all into how I
looked at it. I was dead set on protecting you from the dangers that my being magic brought
on you.”

“Was it Harry that I’ve to thank for helping us back to each other, then, with his newfound
fatherhood?”

Hermione blushed and tried to look anywhere but her mother’s face. “Not Harry, no. A new
friend.”

“Oh?” Hermione’s mum asked, waiting for her to continue. She knew better than to press her
daughter for information that might be embarrassing to her.

“Yes, well,” Hermione was fiddling with her napkin now, “Do you remember me ever
mentioning Draco Malfoy?”

Helena huffed. “The little bully who made your cry and rage in equal measures during your
first few years at Hogwarts? Hard to forget.”

“He’s really not that bad anymore. We’ve all had to grow up after what we went through,”
she said.

“And he’s the friend with a child, then? I hope his child isn’t anything like he was as a boy.”

Hermione shook her head. “Not at all. Scorpius is such a sweet boy, truly! And he’s so smart.
Sometimes when Draco is playing a game – he's a professional quidditch player now, you
see! Anyway, a lot of the time I’ll watch Scorpius during the game. We read together or color
or just chat. I even bring my mp3 player and a headphone splitter so we can listen to all the
classic show tunes!”

Her mother laughed then. “Hermione, what child likes show tunes?”
“ I did! And Scor does, too. Even Draco lingers when I’ve got the tele set to Turner Classic
Movies.”

“You enjoyed making your father laugh with your little performances.”

“Well, I don’t force Scorp to watch them with me, you know!”

“So then,” Helena said, trying for nonchalance, “Draco is a friend your father and I should
get used to hearing about.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I quite intend to keep him around. He can still be rather self-assured,
but he really is a big softie at heart.”

“Just be careful dear. You were with Ron for a long time, and I hope you don’t think I’m
overstepping here, but I just want you to be sure you aren’t hopping into a new... friendship
too quickly.”

Hermione blushed again. “That obvious then?”

“A bit, yes.”

“It’s been over a year since Ron and I split, Mum. And I think all the risk I’ve more or less
been forced to take in my life for the sake of others, maybe this once I should take a risk just
for me.”

Helena sighed, but she trusted her daughter. “Then it’s a serious relationship?”

“Mum, he’s just a friend,” Hermione said, picking her fork up again a spearing a piece of
chicken to punctuate the end of the discussion before adding, “But yes, I intend for it to be a
serious relationship.”
 Chapter 14

After reuniting with her mum, Hermione was sort of on a high of facing things head - on. On
the morning of the quidditch charity match, Hermione read through her romancing outline
(which she’d lovingly dubbed the Malfoy Ploy). It suddenly appeared quite long to her. She
wondered if the middle bits really mattered so much. Honestly, she found those bits the most
boring. She preferred the back story and thrilling finale. She lived her life in meticulous
details and it was exhausting. Don’t get her wrong, the payoff was great. She loved her job
and was pretty content with her life.

But she hadn’t had a plan when she went to speak with her mum. Not even the slightest. Not
even one of her late nights, wide awake and imagining the best and worst scenarios could
have prepared her for her mother’s hesitant acceptance. All she’d had then w ere the words
of Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy.

Perhaps she was overdue to skip a few steps every now and then. They’d done the chance
encounters. Blasé at best. He’d complimented her appearance just a week ago. Very
satisfying, but there’d be plenty of time after.

As she sipped her coffee, she ticked off items that she didn’t feel were really that important.
Hermione and Draco were not characters in some story, after all. They were people with
flaws, and Hermione’s flaw was her less than patient personality. She didn’t usually see the
need to wait. She hadn't pursued politics for that exact reason. As someone not
professionally in politics, she could lend her support as freely and as aggressively as she
wished.

Perhaps it was time to pursue Draco Malfoy in the same way. Her head was foggy from her
happiness from the previous night's overall success of a dinner with her mum, so she didn’t
feel the need to think about it too much. Anyway, it was nearly time to go grab Scor from his
father, and when she’d realized that she was too busy forcing her hair into submission and
even tapping on a little bit of makeup to really reason through any vague plan that might
form otherwise.

She flooed over to Draco’s place with another tin of biscuits among her things. As soon as
the flames died down, Scorpius was upon her, expecting to be picked up. When Hermione’d
situated the boy on her hip, she turned to greet Narci s sa. The handoff of Scorpius was
common between them on days when Narci s sa couldn’t watch Scor during the game and
Hermione’d had plans preventing her from watching him for the hour or so before the game.

It was a perfectly cordial passing of the tot. Sometimes they even had a cuppa together.
Today was different, however.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Hello, Hermione, dear. As always, I must ask you to call me Narcissa.”

Hermione bowed her head a bit in acknowledgment. “Of course. Old habits and all that.”

Narcissa waved a hand to dismiss the subject and moved back to the tea table. “Are you
quite excited for the charity game today?”

Hermione sat at the table and moved Scorpius, who was patiently-impatiently waiting for the
adult small talk to end so he could tell Hermione everything she’d missed since they’d seen
each other last (Over a week ago! There was so much to say and hardly any time to say it!).

“Yes, um, quite,” Hermione said, carefully preparing her tea and then levitating Scorpiu s' s
tiny milk-tea next to her so he could reach it.

Instead of the usual handoff, Hermione and Scorpius would be heading to the game with
Narcissa. After all, Narcissa and Hermione were both very involved with charities, espe ci
ally in the realm of fundraising. They’d even made an excellent team on more than one
occasion, both silently coming to the agreement that Narcissa would take the boujier crowd
and Hermione’d take the more ‘common’ folk, so to speak.

Today, they would not simply be rubbing shoulders in passing. No, they would be sitting
side-by-side in the bleachers for however many hours the participating quidditch teams chose
to drag this game out. The proceeds from the ticket sales would go towards the Foundation
for Research of Cross-Magical-Species Illnesses in addition to whatever larger donations the
more well-to-do attendees felt inclined to contribute. On top of it all, the press from the event
would draw more attention to the cause.

“I’ve baked biscuits for all of us to share during the game,” Hermione said, hoping to not let
the conversation drop off awkwardly.

Narcissa’s eyes spark l ed more than Hermione had expected. “Oh? Well, Draco told me
about the lovely biscuits you brought by last weekend. I must admit, I was quite jealous to
hear their praises only to find our boys hadn’t saved me a crumb.”

Scorpius cut in, recognizing the topic was something he could speak on. “Dad let me have
two cookies when I got home from Nana’s, and then he and I got to split one every night
until we ran out!”

The women oooed , falsely impressed by the number of sweets he’d been allowed this week.
With that, all adult conversation ceased, and Scorpius was finally allowed to regale
Hermione with his news, his nana supporting many of his stories with the finer details that
often escaped a child.

Hermione felt at ease listening to Scorpius fill her in on everything she’d missed. She
commended him on having eaten all his broccoli despite not liking it and then nuzzled his
head to commiserate with his difficulties in picking the perfect crayon color for the drawing
he had made for his nana’s sitting room. Scorpius only stopped speaking for very brief
moments to focus on carefully lifting his cup of tea with both of his tiny hands and take a big
sip.
It was on one such moment that Narcissa very quickly interjected with the exciting news that
her grandson was so clearly forgetting to tell Hermione despite having told her all that
morning that he was going to blurt it out as soon as Hermione arrived.

“Scorpius, might you wish to tell Hermione what happened last night when your father was
putting you to bed?”

Scorpius pulled the cup away from his face, a bit of tea dribbling down his chin, and gasped
in excitement. He put his cup back on the table and then looked up at Hermione’s face with
wide, proud eyes.

“I did magic .”

Hermione was silent a moment before she gasped in understanding. She squeezed the sweet
boy to her, kissed him on his forehead, and then gently pushed him away so she could look
at his face.

“Brilliant! Scorpius, you are an absolutely brilliant boy! Do you know that?”

Scorpius smiled so big his face hurt. “Dad said so, too!”

“What magic did you do, then?”

At this Scorpius giggled, covering his mouth and glancing at his nana. Narcissa, who had
been watching the interaction between Hermione and Scorpius with interest and infection,
smiled softly and winked at the boy.

Scorpius leaned over to whisper what he’d done in Hermione’s ear, despite his nana already
knowing. “Dad was reading me a story about a princess, only she doesn’t know she’s a
princess, and there was a gown that was supposed to be pink or blue, but the fairies couldn’t
decide. I don’t remember why the fairies were making the dress, but they kept changing it.
And then! And then! Mione, I closed my eyes to imagine what it would look like for clothes
to just change colors back and forth, and then Dad hugged me and I opened my eyes and –
and Dad’s pajamas were changing colors, Mione! Pink and blue!”

He’d forgotten he was meant to be whispering about halfway through telling his story and
had pulled back to add wild gesture s to his story. Hermione listened with bated breath. She
wanted to know every detail of what had happened. She couldn’t believe Scorpius had done
his first bit of accidental magic. Had she been so young when she had? Or was he simply
growing up before her very eyes?

She blinked away the sudden tears that had sprung to her eyes and tickled Scorpius’ sides.
“Brilliant, brilliant boy!”

Narcissa sipped her tea silently, happy with what she’d seen. She’d not had much to doubt
about Hermione. She’d interacted with her in passing many times, and she knew both Draco
and Scorpius praised her. However, as a woman who had herself been victim to and become a
meddling mother, she could not suppress the need to verify her care for her boys – their boys
now, she supposed. She had seen Astoria, a girl Narcissa had so believed to be the perfect
option of a society wife, abandon a husband and infant without hesitation.

As such, Narcissa was reasonably cautious when she’d heard that Hermione Granger had
become somewhat of a fixture in her family’s life. She began reworking her schedule to
ensure she could watch Scorpius on the days when Hermione would be watching him during
Draco’s afternoon game. The girl’s affection for her grandson was easy to see, and if she’d
had even a lingering doubt about that, today’s display of affection would have snuffed it out.

Unfortunately, Narcissa has not had the chance to witness Hermione and Draco together. That
wouldn’t stop Narcissa Malfoy from achieving her goal, however. Hermione may be
enamored with Scorpius, but that did not mean she was romantically inclined towards Draco.

To better judge the situation, Narcissa had decided to organize ‘an intimate gathering’ of a
couple dozen: players, investors, and friends. The party would take place several hours after
the game to allow for everyone to recharge and ready themselves for the gathering.
Hermoine, though she was not a fan of parties, agreed that it would be an excellent
opportunity to squeeze donors for extra galleons. Together through (exhausted) owls, they
had managed to organize what was sure to be a lovely (and financially charitable, of course.)

That, however, was hours away. Narcissa, although loathe to disrupt her grandson’s valued
time with ‘his Mione,’ idly acknowledge the time. This was sufficient to propel Hermione to
her feet, Scorpius quickly swung back to her hip.

As she awkwardly gathered her belongings, Hermione exclaimed, “Oh goodness! We must
get going! The stadium is always so busy, and we’ll want some time to get situated.”

“A most excellent point, my dear. Shall I take your bag, since you are carrying Scorpius?”

Hermione shook her head and explained her modified featherlight charm to the, although she
expressed her thanks all the same.

And with that, the little group was off.

 Chapter 15
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

When they arrived at the stadium, it took them very little time at all to get through the
crowded security and to find their seats. Hermione and Scorpius had practically mastered the
process and Narcissa was too regal to ever appear unaware of anything. Disinterested? Sure.
Unaware? Certainly not. No, the only time Narcissa appeared unaware of something was
when she was fully aware and intent on keeping a secret.

Hermione had expected Narcissa to insist on sitting in one of the private boxes when they had
decided to attend together, but she had surprised her by plainly stating those were to be priced
up remarkably for those richer sorts who weren't keen on donating for the sake of charity but
would pay outrageous amounts to see another quidditch game. As such, they were seated in
the stands, high enough to see where the bulk of the action would take place.

Hermione had been careful to coordinate their seats with the Weasleys and Potters as she
always did when they would be attending the same games. Scorpius and Teddy adored each
other, and they found it easy enough to include Victoire in their games and conversations
whenever they were all together. It was Scorpius who spotted the Weasleys approaching first,
as he had been eagerly watching for them from atop Hermione's shoulders.

"Vic!" He shouted, waving his arms frantically to get her attention. The Weasley family
returned the wave and continued their leisurely tread to their seats, save for Victoire who
yanked her hand from her father's grasp and darted quickly towards her friend. Scorpius, once
set back down, met her halfway and the two started chatting as if it hadn't been a month since
they'd last seen each other.

Hermione smiled as she watched the two walk back towards their seats, hands swinging
together in large arcs. From what Draco had told her, Scorpius had never really been exposed
to other children, and her heart warmed to see how naturally he took to friendships.

Narcissa gently set a delicate hand on Hermione's forearm, but when she turned to look at the
older woman, Narcissa was gazing at Scorpius. "He will live a happier life."

Hermione did not ask what she meant by happier. It wasn't hard to guess. Narcissa's eyes
were almost unfocused. It was as if she was watching a version of Draco she would never get
to see, and that broke her heart despite her happiness for her grandson. Hermione gave
Narcissa's hand a little squeeze in acknowledgment of her emotions – her approval of
Hermione's extended family and their influence on the littlest Malfoy. It was weird,
Hermione wasn't totally sure that it was the right thing to do, but she felt ignoring it would be
a mistake.

The kids, walking fast, reached the two seated adults before the rest of the Weasleys.
Scorpius stretched out his arms as if presenting a queen. "This is my nana, Victoire. Nana,
this is my friend Victoire."

Narcissa reached out to gently shake the little girl's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Victoire.
Your name is lovely."

Victoire blushed and thanked the regal woman. She thought she looked just like what she'd
imagined her grandmėre might look like if she had lived to see her born. Victoire
immediately liked the woman.

"Would you do my hair like yours, Scorpius's Nana?"

The Weasleys were close then, and Fleur rushed forward and tutted at her daughter. "You
cannot ask someone you 'ave just met to do your hair, ma chérie."

Narcissa leaned forward and inclined her head a bit as if a sign of humility.

"If you wouldn't mind," she said, "I haven't had the privilege of doing another girl's hair since
I was a girl myself."

Fleur, appearing less composed than she usually was, nodded her ascent gratefully. She
usually took painstaking care when doing her daughter's hair, but the early stages of her
second pregnancy were wearing on her, and even her own appearance, though breathtaking,
would appear haggard to those who knew her well. Narcissa gently undid the messy plaits in
Victoire's hair and moved them into a plaited crown.

The Weasleys only took a moment to stare in awkward and awed silence as Narcissa worked
on the girl's hair before they began to settle into their spots on the bleachers. Draco and
Scorpius had become fixtures in the Weasley events as of recent, that they couldn't find it in
themselves to spend a great deal of energy on being shocked.

After setting her many bags down, Molly reached her arms out towards Scorpius, and the boy
eagerly fell into the warm hug. She fussed and fretted over him and he giggled at her little
jokes.

Hermione was struck again with the surreal realization that she was constantly steeped in the
experience of love – quite literally sandwiched in it! When Scorpius came back to gently rest
his hand on her knee – one of the ways he showed his gentle affection – she couldn't help but
pull him into a crushing hug. She rocked him back and forth and kissed his face as he
shrieked and laughed with joy.

Scorpius wriggled and writhed as he laughed, but he threw his arms around Hermione's neck,
happy for the cuddles. He was only ever happier when him and his dad and his Hermione
were all together at Hermione's flat with cocoa and spaghetti. Sometimes he would fall asleep
in Mione's arms or cuddled up to her side, and he would only wake up when she handed him
over to his Dad to go home. He hated flooing home, especially when he was trying to sleep.
It'd be so much easier if they could all just stay in one place.

He swung his head to the side, still laughing, and then popped up in Hermione's lap.
"Teddy!" he shouted, leaping out of Hermione's arms and running towards his friend.

Hermione sighed at her suddenly empty arms and watched as Scorpius told Teddy – and by
proximity, Harry and Luna – about his bout of accidental magic. Hearing her sigh, Molly
rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"Oh, you act as if he won't be tuckered out in your lap in an hour or so, cuddled up with his
Mione."

From Hermione's other side, Narcissa spoke up. "It's lovely to see him having so much fun
with other children. It's lovely of you all to include him, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly heard the soft adoration of a grandmother for her grandchild, and she knew this was
not the Narcissa they had imagined before and during the war. Perhaps they'd had an inkling
after she'd lied to Voldemort to save her son, but this was different. This was unbridled
adoration accompanied by a fierce protectiveness that comes to those who have seen too
many things and made too many mistakes. Molly knew this was a witch who wanted to help
her family thrive. She could be trusted.

Molly reached across Hermione's lap and gently patted Narcissa's arm. "Scorpius is such fun
to have around. He's practically part of our family, you know! Just another of the grandkids."

As she said the word grandkids, Molly gave Hermione a not-so-subtle nudge. Hermione bit
her lip and closed her eyes, attempting to shrink away from the embarrassment she felt. She
had always thought the way Molly lovingly and unintentionally embarrassed her children was
amusing before she'd ended up on the receiving end of it.

Had she not taken that moment to compose herself, Hermione might have seen the satisfied
smirk Narcissa briefly let grace her face, or the conspiratorial look the two grandmothers
shared as a silent pact was made between them.

But Hermione's eyes were closed, and she didn't see this strange alliance being made. In fact,
her eyes were still closed when Narcissa gently said, "It is so lovely to know he has such a
large extended family to rely on, Mrs. Weasley. It is truly a comfort."

"Oh please," Molly said with a laugh, "Call me Molly, please! And we're so happy to have
Scorpius around. He's such a joy! Everyone loves him and he loves everyone. Of course,
there's no one among us he loves so much as he loves Hermione."

At that, Hermione opened her eyes and rejoined that conversation. "Now, that's not true
Molly. He adores you all."

"I can see he adores the whole family," Narcissa said, then, "but he's close to you in a special
way, dear. And Draco, too, of course."

Narcissa gently patted Hermione's hand. Hermione, having picked up on the woman's many
quirks from their time spent in proximity to one another at different fundraising events, knew
that touching was generally not something she would deign to do past the requisite greetings.
If she wasn't already embarrassed, she'd certainly be by now. Everyone knew. Everyone knew
how she felt about Draco and Scor. Everyone knew she thought of them as her own family
even when she had been too scared to admit it to herself. Narcissa Malfoy of all people was
dropping hints!

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, attempting to battle off a headache. This was
good, she told herself, even if she didn't quite feel it. Her friends – her family – approved. As
did Draco's only living family. This was good. And yet Hermione felt at that exact moment
that she'd rather have to face some pushback after they'd gotten together rather than before. It
would be much easier to convince them to accept their relationship after the fact than it
would be to deal with their cloying nudges.

She decided it was best to extricate herself from the situation and moved to sit with the
younger crowd. Ginny might know about her feelings for Draco, but she had enough sense of
self-preservation to keep from bringing up her interest in Draco in front of other people. Well,
at least in any obvious manner.

Harry looked relieved when Hermione came over, and he quickly placed little Horatio in her
arms.

"I thought my arms were gonna fall off! For someone so small, a baby really is heavy after a
while."

Ginny scoffed, "You and your weak muscles. One of us could have held him, you know." She
made an exaggerated gesture to point out the many Weasleys surrounding them.

"Yeah, like I'd trust you lot to hold my kid! Who knows what you'd teach him!"

At that, Fred chimed in. "What could we possibly teach an ickle wittle baby, Harry-kins?"

"Something in the way you've said that makes me certain I've made the right choice. You
definitely have something planned."

Although Hermione was always happy to cuddle a baby, she couldn't help but chime in.
"Why not get a wrap like Luna's, then?"

Baby Ophelia was snuggly strapped to Luna's chest with a colorful fabric wrap. At
Hermione's question, Luna's tinkering and calming laugh awoke Ophelia who, upon realizing
she was still strapped to her mother, let her head fall back down and fell back asleep.

"Harry is having a bit of trouble with the wrap," Luna said, smiling at the man in question.
"He's been practicing with a pillow, but he can't quite get it to work."

Harry scratched the back of his head. "I think I might just have to get one of those baby
backpacks at this point. I feel like I'm less likely to mess that up."

"Just make sure you do all the straps and clips correctly, yeah?" Hermione teased.

"Ugh!" Harry exclaimed. "Maybe arms is the best way after all."
An exasperated Harry accepted a butterbeer from the twins and settled on to the bleachers
with his friends. Luna opted to stand, swaying back and forth with her daughter. They
chattered a bit as the bleachers continued to fill, and the children moved back towards their
section. Having worked up an appetite from all their jumping and pretending, Molly quickly
set to handing out snacks to the kids while Narcissa passed out little mugs of juice, tea, or
water with an anti-spill, anti-shatter charm attached.

Scorpius sat down and ate his snacks with his friends and Nana before picking up his mug
and walking hurriedly to Hermione. He sat next to her, settled his drink in his lap, and leaned
on Hermione's arm to look at the baby. Scorpius had seen the babies a few times since their
birth and despite his initial eagerness to see the babies, he quickly became nervous when he
got close to them. He was fascinated, though. Despite turning down the opportunity to hold
one of the babies or to touch their little hands, he loved to peer down at them.

He'd never say it out loud with how cute all the adults said they were, but he thought they
looked like wrinkly old bald men. The baby dolls in the stores never had all those weird
wrinkles. Part of him wanted to hold one of the babies – the adults had said they could, and
Mione said he wouldn't hurt them, and he trusted Mione. Still, he was scared to touch the
babies.

Now, looking at the baby in Mione's arms, he wondered if he was ever that small. Mione said
he was once, even though she didn't know him then. He imagined his Dad would have held
him that way, but he was sad thinking that his Mum hadn't wanted to hold him. Just as he was
starting to feel sad, Hermione reached her arm around his shoulders and hugged him closer to
her side.

Scorpius cuddled into her side again. The players were being announced just then, but
Scorpius didn't care to look to the pitch. At that moment, being held by Mione was more
important to Scorpius than seeing his dad fly out for the billionth zillionth time. He thought
being held by Mione had to be way better than being held by his mum. Unless Mione was his
mum, though. That would be way better. Teddy had said that one of the boys in his primary
school got a new dad when his mum got married, so Scor was pretty sure his dad could get
him a mum the same way. And Hermione wasn't anyone's mum, so she could be his! She
loved him! She'd told him so. And he loved her too.

Scorpius had spent lots of time thinking about it. He wondered at first if he should just ask
her to be his mum, but Teddy said that Dad and Mione had to go on dates and kiss and stuff
before Mione could become his mum. Scor didn't really get why, but Teddy was older, so he
was probably right.

Scorpius leaned back from the baby and took a sip of his juice from the mug that Hermione
had bought him when he had gone through a phase of refusing to drink his tea from anything
but the mummy and baby cow mug she had at home. With luck, she'd managed to track down
the same mug on eBay and had presented it to him to take home and bring to his Nana's.

He held it out, away from him, and used one hand to yank on Hermione's sleeve. When he
had pulled her attention away from the baby he pointed at the cows on his mug.

"I've decided that this one is you," He pointed to the cow, "and this one's me."
Well, if that wasn't the sweetest way to compare a woman to a cow, she didn't know what was
(although she wouldn't quite recommend ever comparing the two). "That's sweet of you to
say, Scor, but won't your dad feel left out with just you and me on your mug."

Scorpius shrugged and looked away from her and back to the field. His dad was flying fast
across the field. Scorpius didn't think he'd mind if it was Mione and him on his mug since he
had bunches of pictures with Dad and his Nana and even Pansy and Blaise. He didn't have
any with Mione, though, and his mug was the next closest thing, he figured.

Hermione didn't know what to say to Scorpius. He looked sort of distracted, and she couldn't
make out why. He didn't seem particularly upset, though, so she thought better than to push
him for information. Scorpius was very good about talking out his feelings when he was
ready, she had learned, so she knew he would speak to his father, his Nana, or her if he didn't
resolve the feelings himself.

She leaned down towards him and told him, "It looks like Victoire and Teddy are ready to
play again."

Scorpius looked over to his friends and immediately perked back up, thoughts of a mum set
aside. He set his mug down on the spot he had just been sitting and ran the little distance to
his friends. The three of them hunkered down in the small space within their seating group
that remained and set forth in planning which adventures their imaginations would embark on
that afternoon.

Things were peaceful for a bit. The next hour was filled with chit-chat among the adults and
the children crawling back and forth underneath their legs on the bleachers. By the end of the
hour, Hermione and Luna were sat back leisurely with Molly and Narcissa discussing the
potential for future charity events, while the rest of the adults were invested in the game.
Hermione was just about ready to set little Horatio into the bassinet his mother and conjured
up when a familiar voice froze her in her seat.

"What's this then?" Ron asked, red in the face with obvious and unwarranted rage.

Everyone in their little party had tensed up again. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ron since
he had interrupted near the beginning of the quidditch season when Hermione'd first been
asked to watch Scorpius. He'd even avoided the Burrow, breaking his mother's heart despite
how angry she'd been with him.

"Ronald," Hermione said, hugging little Horatio to her for confidence. "We are simply
enjoying the charity match, as you can see. I must say, I'm surprised to see you here, though."

"Oh? Why's that? I'm the one who actually likes quidditch out of the two of us!"

"Yes, but you've never been one to provide charitable support, have you? Well, all the same,
the organization thanks you for your contribution."

Hermione sat back down, hoping he would understand and accept the dismissal. No such
luck.
Ron looked at his family and friends with disgust. Malfoy's mum sat with his mum. Malfoy's
kid playing with his niece. And Hermione...

"Didn't take you long to let Malfoy knock you up then, did it?" Ron said, sneering at the baby
in her arms. Molly gasped, horrified at Ron's language.

Hermione bit her tongue from retaliating with rather worse language. There were children
around, she had to remember. "Well, since you never bothered to spend time with Victoire or
Teddy when they were little, I guess I can't be surprised that you wouldn't recognize the
developmental stages of a child. Let me lay it out for you plainly: Horatio is 1 month old, as
is his sister. I have been reacquainted with Draco for 7 months, now. Barring a very quick
pregnancy and early birth, I could not be the mother of this boy. I know mathematics has
never been your strong suit, but they're small numbers, so you should be able to puzzle out
how I am not this baby's mother."

Hermione paused then to catch her breath and watched the confusion flicker across Ron's
face. Merlin, was he always this dim? "If that's still not enough for you to work out," she
continued, "You might notice that Luna, our previously pregnant friend, is no longer
pregnant."

Ron looked at Luna and then to the little baby in the bassinet before her. Hermione set
Horatio down beside Ophelia and Luna placed a silencing charm around the bassinet to keep
from upsetting them. Hermione turned back to Ron and raised an eyebrow, daring him to
continue.

He did.

"Doesn't change the fact you've been hanging around him enough that people have noticed.
You've even been in the profit with him and his brat!"

Hermione slapped him then. She really hadn't meant to, but it was just a reflex when he
insulted Scorpius. "I have let you get away with too much, Ronald. You have insulted me and
cheated on me without retaliation. Well, I am telling you now, Ronald: stay away from me,
and don't you let me hear you saying anything about that little boy ever again."

Ron grabbed her shoulders and shook her. He knew that everyone was yelling at him, but he
didn't care. "You've moped enough, Hermione. It's time to get back to how we were before."

"Ron, you're hurting me. Let go," Hermione said through gritted teeth. She could see in her
periphery Victoire and Teddy watching them with fear. She started to panic. Where was
Scorpius? She jerked her arms back in an attempt to free herself non-magically, but Ron
didn't let go. Harry, Fred, and George were circling Ron, wands in their hands but not
pointed.

"Ron, you need to leave," Harry said, disappointed and angry with Ron.

"No, Harry, Hermione and me are gonna fix this."

Hermione was still twisting around trying to see where Scorpius was when she noticed the
little bolt of white-blonde hair dodging between the legs of the adults and throwing himself at
Ron's legs, swinging his arms wildly and screaming for him to let go of Hermione.

And Ron did let go, surprising everyone. Well, that was until they saw him double over and
clutch his, uh, other wand which Scorpius must have accidentally hit in his attack. Before
Ron could regain composure, Hermione whipped Scorpius into her arms.

"Scorpius, sweetie, that was so brave, but you have to let the adults deal with mean people."

Scorpius sniffled, and Hermione realized he was crying. "You said he was hurting you,
Mione, and no one was stopping him."

She sighed and held Scorpius closer to her chest. She moved towards Narcissa and Molly
who quickly checked over the little boy in her arms. Assure that he hadn't hurt himself in his
brave save, Molly moved to give Ron a piece of her mind, but Hermione stopped her.

"Don't Molly, it's done," she said, nodding at Ron who was being restrained by Fred, and then
to the security that circled the stadium on their own brooms that were now descending in a
nearby walkway. They watched silently as security petrified and then levitated his body away.
Scorpius kept his eyes glued to the mean man, so he could be absolutely certain that he was
gone and couldn't hurt Mione anymore."

"The Canons have called for a timeout. The recess will last 15 minutes. The balls will be
recalled now and rereleased upon resuming the game," the commentator's voice announced.

There were some disappointed grumbles, and some interested murmurs as others continued to
watch Hermione and Scorpius. As soon as the announcement was made, Draco shot towards
the stands and hopped the barrier. Hermione walked over to meet him. Draco was frantically
checking over his son – face, fingers, feet.

"Are you okay buddy? You're not hurt?"

Scorpius sniffed and lifted his chin a little. "Nuh-uh. That mean man was the one who got
hurt, not me!"

Draco huffed a bit in exasperated laughter. "I bet. Next time just say, 'You should see the
other guy.'" Draco's anxiety ticked up again, remembering the witch his son was protecting.
He began looking her over – face fingers, fingers, feet. All intact. He let his hand rest on her
neck, his thumb settled on her chin, gently turning her face for a double-check. "You alright,
Hermione?"

"I'm so sorry, Draco. I haven't seen him in ages, it didn't even cross my mind that he might
show up again to throw a fit."

"Are you alright?" He said, needing her to confirm she was unharmed.

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat that could only be guilt.
Scorpius furrowed his brows at Hermione. "Nuh-uh! He hurted your arms when he grabbed
you. He grabbed you really hard!"

Hermoine winced. She'd forgotten about that, but now that it was brought to her attention and
the adrenaline was wearing off, she felt the ache in her arms.

Draco noticed and grimaced. He wished he had his want with him to do something, but the
quidditch league required all wands to be left behind in the locker room to avoid irate players
from seriously hexing one another. "Mother is very good at healing charms. Direct her to
wear exactly the pain is and she should be able to dull the ache and stop it from bruising."

Hermione nodded and then said again, "Really Draco, I'm so sorry-"

"Attention to the stadium! The game will resume in 5 minutes' time. Consider returning to
your seats."

Draco rolled his eyes at the announcement. Generally speaking, announcements were not
made for when resuming play. Attendees were expected to pay attention to the countdown
posted around the stadium and concessions. That announcement was a nudge for him to get
his ass back to the pitch.

"It's not your fault, Hermione," he said emphatically before letting his hand drop from her
face. He turned his attention to his son. "And you, sir, I will be seeing as soon as the game is
over, and we'll go back to Nana's to relax before we have to get ready for the party."

Children would be welcome during the early part of the party because the three big kids of
the group had wanted to feel all grown up and attend the party, and Narcissa, despite her
generally stoic and no-nonsense demeanor, had a very difficult time denying a child's wishes.
Molly and Arthur had agreed to watch all of the kids when they left, to give the parents a
break. They were used to a busy home anyway, and they hated the feeling of an empty nest.

At his father's words, Scorpius pouted and buried his head in Hermione's hair. Although
mumbled, they heard him say, "I want to stay with Mione."

"Bud, she's got to get ready, too! You don't want to bother her."

He refused to lift his head. He absolutely did want to bother her if it meant staying with her.

"Why don't he and I get ready together? You or Narcissa can drop his little suit off, and we
can hang around with Ginny until the party."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and tickled Scorpius's side in an attempt to cheer him. "That way I don't have to
show up without a date, hmm?"

Scorpius lifted his head then, remembering what Teddy had said about dates. "But what about
when we go to Mrs. Molly's and Mr. Art's?" He turned to his dad then. "Dad, you have to be
her date then so she's not all alone!"
 Despite knowing she'd be surrounded by friends regardless of a date and would in no way be
alone, she stayed silent. What a little genius Scorpius was. Brilliant boy. She looked at Draco
and simply raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if my son is going to abandon you halfway through the evening, I suppose it would be
my duty and my honor to escort you the rest of the evening," Draco said, a little smirk on his
face. He ruffled his son's hair, winked at Hermione, and then turned on his heel and headed
back to the pitch where his teammates were anxiously waiting for him to return.

Hermione sighed and then looked at Scorpius. "You know, your father speaks just like he's a
gentleman ripped straight from a regency novel, sometimes."

Scorpius nodded. He had no clue what that meant, but he knew that his dad had a date with
Mione and that meant she would be his mum.

Chapter End Notes

This one came out a tad longer than I intended, my b.

 Chapter 16

When the game ended (Canons barely snatching a win), Narcissa kissed Scorpius on the
forehead and suggested Hermione take him straight home.

“You two have had a bit of an upset, dear. I’ll let Draco know you’ve taken off, and then I’ll
stop by with Scorpius’s things. Might I have your address?”

Hermione would have normally made some objection, but Narcissa was unfortunately quite
right. Scorpius was exhausted, his head lulling to Hermione’s shoulders and struggling to
keep his eyes open. The other children looked fairly tired as well, both from the intense
emotions they’d witnessed and the general exhaustion that came from spending so much time
with friends.

Hermione, too, was feeling a bit drained. She’d been pretty successful at putting Ron out of
her mind. It wasn’t hard when he’d been avoiding his own family and their mutual best
friend. He’d been so mad at all of them defending her simply babysitting Scorpius – and that
was all it was at that first game! – that he’d practically boycotted the burrow and stopped
speaking to Harry. He’d expected someone to come running to him, that much was obvious.
Probably her. Whenever things got tense between him and Harry, she’d put aside her own
feelings to fix it.

Well, that wasn’t her problem anymore. It shouldn’t have been back then and it sure as hell
wouldn’t be now. She hiked Scorpius a little higher up on her hip and tried to keep the
exhaustion from her voice when she responded to Narcissa, “My place is on the floo network.
I’ll open my wards to the manor when I get home. It’s just on the network as ‘Hermione
G’s.’”

Narcissa nodded. “Lovely. I’ll see you shortly,” she said, patting Scorpius once more on the
cheek and then disappearing.

Hermione quickly said her goodbyes to the rest of her friends. Molly embraced her before she
left, tearful and embarrassed.

“I am so sorry, dear,” Molly said, pulling out of the hug and dabbing at her eyes. “I know he’s
been brooding lately, but I thought that was more so about him finally realizing that this
wasn’t just a temporary split to you. I told him to never speak to a child that, last time! I -”
Molly’s voice caught in her throat, and Hermione pulled her in for a second hug.

“Ron is an adult, Molly. He not your responsibility anymore. You did your best by each and
every one of your children.”

Molly pulled from the hug again, using her oversized rag scarf to wipe at her face. Scorpius
leaned slightly away from Hermione and extended his arm out to pat Molly’s cheek like his
Nana always pat his. “Don’t cry,” he said.
This child’s gentle touch nearly brought Molly to her knees in grief. Could she ever
remember Ron being so small and gentle? Yes, she could. But then, she wondered, was it
better to have that innate empathy fade away from him than it would have been if he’d never
had it at all?

“Scorpius, Sweetie, I’m sorry that my son said some mean things to you and Hermione.”

“It’s not your fault,” Scorpius said because it was true. Scorpius’s dad had explained to him
that sometimes people say sorry for things they didn’t do because they want you to know that
they understand you’re upset and want you to feel better. Scorpius didn’t really understand it,
though. Why did people say sorry for stuff they didn’t do? “My dad says when I do
something wrong, I’m the one who has to apologize, and if he does something wrong then he
has to apologize. So I think if your son does something wrong, he should apologize. It’s not
your fault he chose to be a meanie.”

Molly sniffed a bit and then gave Scorpius a big kiss on his forehead. “You are a very sweet
boy, Scorpius.”

“But you can put him in timeout until he apologizes to Mione,” Scorpius continued.
“Sometimes, when I do something I shouldn’t and don’t want to apologize, my dad makes me
sit at the kitchen table until I’ve thought about why it might make my dad or my Nana upset.
You can do that.”

Molly’s eyes were sad, but she kept smiling and even nodded a bit. “I’ll see if I can swing
that.”

“Okay then,” Scorpius said, leaning back against Hermione, “See you later!”

Molly said left to say goodbye to Harry and Luna, then, and Hermione finished up her
farewells quickly. Ginny was more than ready to leave, having lost 20 quid betting against the
Canons. Ginny, Hermione, and Scorpius left for an apparation point that was a bit further
away from the quidditch pitch but far less congested.

When they popped to the apparation point nearest Hermione’s flat, Scorpius groaned and
threw his hands over his ears. Hermione had witnessed Scorpius's trouble with apparation a
few times by now, and it only got more and more upsetting to see his little face scrunch up in
pain. Without waiting for Ginny to apparate in, Hermione moved to sit on a nearby bench and
held the boy very still. She and Draco had learned during a recent trip to Fortescue’s that the
less he moved after apparation, the quicker the pain went away. She cast a few wandless
charms to ease what discomfort she could.

By the time Ginny got to the apparation point, realized they weren’t waiting for her, and then
tracked them down, Scorpius was fully recovered from the ear pain but quite clearly more
worn out than ever. Ginny immediately understood what had happened and didn’t say
anything just in case Scorpius’s ears were still ringing.

Scorpius tried to stay awake on the walk to Mione’s apartment, but his eyes kept going blurry
and his eyes were getting heavy. He’d wanted to show Ginny all of the drawings he’d made
for Mione the last time he’d been over! He’d drawn Ginny in one, her red hair scribbled
wildly and almost obscuring his rendering of her quidditch uniform and broom.

But his eyelids kept drooping and the swaying of his body as Mione walked felt as if she was
rocking him to sleep like his dad would when he was sick. He was asleep before they were
even up the stairs to her flat.

Hermione had known when he’d fallen asleep by the way his body slowly released its hold
on her, making him weigh more heavily in her arms. Ginny opened the door, and Hermione
walked straight to her bedroom, gently laying Scorpius in her bed. She grabbed the blanket
that she kept on the end of her bed in remembrance of Crooks and tucked it tightly around
Scorpius. She turned her reading lamp on then turned out the lights, ready to collapse on the
couch with Ginny.

Just as she was about to throw herself onto the couch and stay there for as long as possible,
she smelled something heavenly wafting from the kitchen – coffee. Hermione distractedly
looked around the living room and realized that Ginny wasn’t there. Resisting the temptation
of the couch, Hermione made her way to the kitchen and slid into the less comfortable dining
chair.

“Well,” Ginny said, setting the still steeping French press on a potholder between them, “that
jersey has paid itself off twice over!”

Hermione groaned and let her head fall with a loud thump onto the kitchen table. When she
spoke, her words were muffled by the wood. “Once was enough.”

“You can’t honestly tell me you really thought Ron was just gonna live and let live. Really,
Hermione, you’ve known Ron for years. You know he pouts until he thinks he’s gotten his
way.”

“I didn’t really think about Ron at all, Ginny,” Hermione shifted her head to rest her cheek on
the table. “For the first time since he cheated on me, I just completely stopped thinking about
him. After that first game, I was more worried about the article than anything else.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was all the following articles that set him off.”

“Ugh, probably.”

Hermione had canceled all her paper and non-professional magazine subscriptions after that
first article and relied on her friends to pass on any pertinent news. She hadn’t wanted to have
any articles lying around when Scorpius came over, and truly she’d been meaning to stop
reading the useless tripe for years. Her friends had told her that several other “news” sources
had begun printing pictures of her and Scorpius frequently being seen together and
speculating as to the reason, greatly hinting at a relationship with Draco. The little outings the
three of them did little to stunt the rumors, but Hermione had felt her anger at it all dwindle
bit by bit as she spent more and more of her free time with them. As for the specific
accusations, well, Hermione never asked for that information and her friends never offered it.
Ron hadn’t been in her thoughts at all when it came to those articles. All she cared about was
shielding the little boy that had managed to wriggle right into her heart in a single afternoon.
After Ron had shown up and got told off by Molly, she’d let it all go. She hadn’t realized it
then, but it was true. She had let go of most of her anger surrounding being cheated on after
that initial outburst he’d had at that first quidditch game.

After that anger had dissipated, all Hermione really had was a sense of disappointment in the
man her childhood friend had become and the lingering fear that it was somehow her fault.
She didn’t wallow in it very long, and soon enough Draco was asking for her help with
Scorpius again and something was building between them. Hermione’d moved past the
disappointment, and she’d made the foolish misstep of believing Ron had as well.

Now she was angry again. Angry that Ron thought he still had a chance with her. Angry that
he thought he had some right to her. Angry that the idiot had caused a bloody scene. More
than anything, though, she was angry that he had the gall – the absolute nerve – to call
Scorpius evil again. Although angered the first time he’d said it, she had reasoned to herself
that it was words said in anger – that he couldn’t possibly have meant it. Making excuses for
him yet again, it seemed. But it had been months since then. He had plenty of time to cool
down and had still thrown a public tantrum in which he’d insulted both her and Scorpius and
brought up a past that Draco didn’t deserve to be constantly reminded of.

She sat up and channeled all her rage into the French press plunger, pushing through the
coffee in record speed. She poured them each a cup and then got up to aggressively wrench
open slam the fridge and cupboards in the pursuit of cream and sugar.

“Alright then,” Ginny said, watching her friend stomp around her own kitchen, “You need to
calm down, Mi. We’ve got a lot of daylight left, and plenty of nighttime, too. Don’t spend it
being sour. Not to mention your slamming around might wake the mini Malfoy.”

Hermione huffed and set the items she’d gathered on the table with a thud and went to work
preparing her cup. Ginny was right. The charity ball was tonight and she had a sort-of date
with Draco. By the time she was finished stirring her coffee, Hermione had let a good deal of
the tension in her shoulders go. By the time she was halfway through her mug, she was
feeling well enough to tell Ginny about her sort-of date.

“That’s not a sort-of date!” Ginny said, practically hopping out of her chair. “That’s a date-
date!”

Hermione hmmed into her mug, pleased that Ginny thought so. She’d not wanted to get her
hopes up in thinking that Draco had wanted to have her as more than a friendly sort of date.
With Ginny’s words, though, she figured she could hope. She sat up a little straighter in her
chair. And why shouldn’t she? She’d already decided to flirt and make her intentions known,
and she’d made a poor show of it thus far. Another reason to be angry with Ron, but she
shoved that down.

“Well, if it’s a date-date, I suppose I should go for the more datey of the dresses, then.”

Ginny took a moment to figure out what Hermione meant before squealing and leaning over
the table. “You mean it?”
Hermione nodded.

When they had decided on the details of the ball, Ginny had dragged Hermione shopping yet
again, hauling Luna and Angelina along with them. Hermione had an affinity for nice but
more modest and professional garments – it was simply what she felt most comfortable in.
She’d found a lovely blue number that fit the bill. It was loose but still flattering, and she
knew she could reuse it for many a ministry function. Ginny, however, had other ideas and
had employed the mischief-loving Angelina to help her. They had presented Hermione with
their spoils and forced her into a fitting room to try them on.

But Hermione did not need to try them all on. Her eyes were naturally drawn to a lilac-
colored gown with a square-cut neckline and a low, square-cut back. What really drew her
attention, though, was the full-length sleeves. When she tried on the dress, she was pleased
with her reflection. The dress hugged her curves and pooled to the ground in an elegant way
that she’d never managed to achieve before. The square neckline showed a tasteful bit of
cleavage. She turned and then craned her neck to see the back and smiled at the little mole
that was visible just above the dress.

“The angels were having a snack when they made you,” her mother would tell her when she
was little, “and, oh! A bit of chocolate must have dripped just there right before they sent you
out to Daddy and me.”

Yes, Hermione liked this dress.

It was the sleeves that did it for her, though. She hated her arms. It seemed a stupid thing to
be self-conscious about, but it was true. After being on the run for a year, Hermione and the
boys had lost a lot of weight, and they got right back to work on getting it back. The boys
were in auror training soon enough, and they became muscled.

Hermione, however, had opted for a less physically demanding job, and she gained back
more weight than she’d lost. She wasn’t ashamed of it. A year on the run, and she’d gained
an appreciation for the simple things; a pain au chocolat with her midday coffee, a beer with
a good book, and homemade baked goods several times a week.

Food. It was so easy to take for granted when you’d never gone without.

Generally, she quite liked how she’d filled out. It was just her arms that bothered her.
Reaching for a book on a high shelf and seeing her arms jiggle or doing her semi-regular
yoga practice and seeing how her arms jiggled despite how hard her muscles strained to keep
her in a pose.

She hated her arms and she hated that she hated them. She knew it was normal – that bodies
move. She wasn’t some model or actress or fitness buff. Still, it irked her. It didn’t help that
they reminded her of Ron’s little jabs: “Women shouldn’t get so soft until they have kids,
Mione.” “You sure you wanna eat that, Herms?” “Why don’t you come with Harry and me
for our physical training?”

She should have dumped him then instead of simply chewing him out.
But back to the dress and the sleeves and her arms. The sleeves weren’t restrictive or
anything. They could still move as much as they wanted, and although they were covered,
they almost seemed to be accentuated and just as elegant as the rest of the gown.

It only took 20 seconds out of the dressing room for her friends to demand she purchase it or
they would purchase it for her. The praise they were showering on her had made her
decidedly uncomfortable, though, and she’d bought the blue dress as well because she was
pretty sure that she’d never get the confidence up to actually wear the lilac gown.

But she’d told Ginny she would wear it now, which meant she couldn’t back out. She felt the
giddy excitement she’d had waking up that morning bubble back to the surface, and despite
still being nervous about wearing the dress to an event that would, without a doubt, hold
photographers that would sell her image to the tabloids, she couldn’t help but look forward to
slipping back into the gown.

As she moved to pour herself another cup of coffee, the floo sounded and the grand Narcissa
Malfoy walked into her tiny flat. She stood up and moved to greet her.

“Narcissa, hullo. Come to drop Scorp’s things? Care to have some coffee with us? Or perhaps
tea?”

“No, but thank you, dear. I’ve so many last-minute details to organize, you know.”

“Do you need any help?”

Narcissa shook her head, “Oh no. You’ve done so much already. Besides, young people are
meant to spend their time getting ready before events. You will have plenty of time to scurry
around and fix things when you are old like me.”

“You’re hardly old, Narcissa!”

“Oh stop, you’ll make me blush,” Narcissa said despite showing no inclination towards
blushing. In fact, she looked quite pleased to have been reminded of how young she
appeared. “I’ll just leave Scorpius’s things on the settee, shall I?”

Hermione nodded and Ginny almost laughed at Narcissa calling Hermione’s beat-up sofa a
settee.

When Narcissa had disappeared back through the floo, Hermione unzipped the small garment
bag that had been draped over the back of her sofa and gasped.

“It’s so tiny!” She exclaimed, for some reason shocked to see that the suit was actually child-
sized.

Ginny walked over to take a look and gasped as well. “Scorpius can’t really be that little, can
he?”

Hermione shrugged and ran a finger over the little bow tie. She didn’t know how to express
her relief at seeing the tiny suit. In the short time she’d known Scorpius, it felt like he was
constantly growing. He was constantly getting new clothes to replace the ones he’d
outgrown, and he was always telling her about all the new things he was learning. She half
expected to walk back into her bedroom and see a Hogwarts first year fast asleep. She wanted
him to slow down just a bit.

She had grown up to fast. So had his father. She didn’t want him to grow up until he
absolutely had to. She wanted that tiny suit to fit him for years and years.

“I think I want one,” Ginny said.

Hermione was brought out of her mind by the declaration. “One what?”

“A baby. I want one. To put in tiny little suits- oh! And tiny little quidditch uniforms.

“Ginny, you said you didn’t want children until you were at least 30 or injured beyond
returning to quidditch.”

“Yeah, well, if I timed it right, I could have the important parts of the pregnancy during the
offseason and a stay-at-home hubby to take care of it.”

Hermione laughed. “A baby isn’t a doll, Gin. You can’t just dress it up then hand it off. And
what’s this about a hubby? Things with Dean that serious and you still won’t talk about it?”

Ginny scoffed. “I’m not dating Dean. He’s a friend and I’ve been helping him with
something.”

“Something?”

“Need to know basis.”

“Well, it seems you’ve no hubby candidates, then.”

Ginny pouted a bit. “Yes, well, it wouldn’t be so tempting if the darn outfits weren’t so cute.”

“That’s what you have a niece for.”

“And the Potter babies, too,” Ginny said, suddenly cheered.

Hermione zipped the garment bag back up, hiding the tiny suit from sight. “Yes, them too.”
 Chapter 17
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

After about two hours, Hermione woke Scorpius up knowing that he wouldn’t sleep through
the night if he napped any longer. Ginny took his place, flopping onto the bed and demanding
to be woken up in an hour to begin getting ready. Hermione settled Scorpius with a little
snack in front of the tele and then sat down beside him, working several hair potions into her
hair to sit for a bit and make her hair manageable.

“What is that?” Scorpius asked, watching her pour one of the potions into her hands.

“Oh, just one of the potions I like to put in my hair when I’m trying to look extra nice,”
Hermione said, passing him the pretty purple bottle.

“Will it make my hair look nicer?” He asked as he turned the bottle in his hands and studied
the Sleekeazys label.

Hermione remembered the slicked-back look of the Draco Malfoy of her earliest
acquaintance and was tempted to slick Scorpius’s hair back for the giggles. If she wasn’t
mildly fearful of getting on Narcissa’s bad side, she’d have probably done it, too. As it were,
though, she knew there were going to be photographers and journalists milling about, and no
matter how much the Malfoys had changed over the years, they still took their appearance
seriously.

She reached out and smoothed his sleep mussed hair. “Your hair is already so nice, sweetie. I
don’t think anything could make it nicer.”

Scorpius grinned and handed the bottle back to Hermione. It always made him happy when
she called him ‘dear’ or ‘sweetie.’ His chest puffed out a bit at her compliment, too. He
continued to watch as Hermione worked with her hair. After a few minutes, he tugged gently
on her sleeve. Hermione stopped her work on her hair again and turned her curious gaze
towards him. Her curious gaze encouraged him to ask his next question.

“Is there something that could make my hair curly and brown like yours?” Scorpius asked,
thinking of how Teddy was able to make his hair look just like Mione’s. Sometimes when he
watched Teddy’s hair changed to look like hers, Scorpius got so angry he wanted to push
Teddy. He wanted to look like Mione as easy as Teddy did. He didn’t think it was fair how
easy Teddy could just look like he belonged to anyone just like Scor looked like he belonged
to his Dad and his Nana.

“Not brown,” Hermione said, considering Scorpius’s question. “But maybe we could curl it.
Just for tonight.”

Hermione had resisted the Sleekeazys, but the curls seemed innocent enough. She wondered
if curling his hair would be too presumptuous. Then she thought that perhaps it was alright.
She was trusted to get him ready for the ball, after all. Couldn’t she be trusted to dress him up
a tad?

She grabbed the curling iron she kept for the occasional girls’ night and plugged it in to heat
up. “This is very hot, Scor, so only I can touch it. Okay?” The little boy nodded. “Good. Then
once this hot, I’ll curl little parts of your hair around it and when they cool down again,
they’ll be curly!”

“Woah,” Scorpius said, breathy and astonished. He wondered if he would get to learn how to
do this kind of magic when he went to Hogwarts. His dad never did any magic like that to his
hair!

The barrel of the curling iron was small enough to just barely wrap Scorpius’s short hair
around it. She made quick work of it with so little hair, and then she sprayed his new curls
with some hair spray and set him off to look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He
sprinted away and she idly followed him, watching as he climbed on top of the toilet lid to
get himself up onto the sink counter. She stood behind him, trying not to let him know that
she was making sure he didn’t fall.

Scorpius leaned close towards the mirror, his hands planted on it and leaving little kid
smudges that Hermione was sure she’d find sort of annoying if any kid besides Scorpius had
been responsible. He lifted one hand from the mirror to pull at a curl near the front of his
head. When he let go of the hair, it sprang back to its curled position thanks to the copious
amounts of hairspray Hermione had coated his head in.

“I look so cool!” He said, continuing to play with his curls.

Hermione smiled. She’d always gotten hell for her curls, so she couldn’t help but feel pleased
that he was so pleased with them. When she had grabbed the curling iron from her master
bathroom, she had grabbed her makeup bag as well to avoid waking the monster that was a
sleep-interrupted Ginny by going in and out of the bedroom. She decided that she had played
with hers and Scorpius's hair enough, so she opened the bag and began rifling through her
makeup.

“What’s that stuff?” Scorpius asked, looking away from his reflection.

“It’s makeup,” Hermione said. “It makes me look pretty!”

Scorpius moved his hands from the mirror and Hermione dropped her eyeliner, prepared to
steady him. But instead of wobbling or falling, Scorpius reached out to lightly grab
Hermione’s face. “You’re already pretty, Mione!”

Hermione reached up to hold his face, too. “Well, thank you, Scor. Makeup makes me a
different kind of pretty. A special kind of pretty because I can choose to make my makeup
show the kind of mood I’m in or how I want to feel.”

“Oh!” Scorpius said, squeezing her face a bit before letting his hands fall back to his sides.
“Okay!”
He sat down on the sink counter and turned back to the mirror to play more with his curls.
Hermione went on to apply her makeup figuring it was safest to get it out of the way before
Ginny woke up and decided to take the eyeshadow into her own hands. Every few minutes
Scorpius would giggle and Hermione would giggle, too, when she realized that he had been
looking up at her in the mirror and was laughing at the silly faces she was making as she
applied her makeup.

Scorpius liked to sit and watch Hermione get ready. It was different from when he sat and
watched his dad get ready, but it was kind of the same, too. It made him feel cozy like he was
sharing a special secret with her. At one point, he had asked if she could put makeup on him
too, but she’d told him she didn’t believe anyone should start wearing makeup until they
were older, so Scorpius figured he would ask her when he was a grown-up – like 13 or 14 –
until then, he figured he could just watch all the funny faces she made while she did her
makeup.

“What do you think?” Hermione asked, turning to Scorpius for assessment.

“You look like a painting,” he said, think of all the portraits hanging at his Nana’s house.

Hermione thought that was quite a pretty thing for him to say and swooped in to give him a
kiss on his cheek. “Such a lovely date and neither of us is even dressed for the party yet!”
Scorpius giggled without really understanding the joke. “How about you go wake Ginny up,
and then we can all start getting dressed, hm?” Hermione suggested.

Scorpius hopped from the sink top, nearly giving Hermione a heart attack, and then ran for
the bedroom. He hopped onto the bed and tried to gently shake Ginny awake. When that
didn’t work he tried talking to her.

“Psst, Miss Ginny! Hermione says it’s time to start getting ready now. She already made her
face like a painting, so not we gotta start getting dressed and stuff.”

Ginny finally pulled herself out of bed and rub the lingering sleep out of her eyes. When she
saw the curls in the little boy’s hair, she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. If Hermione
and Malfoy wanted to pretend they weren’t dancing around one another, they should
probably not try to make Scorpius look like the perfect Granger-Malfoy hybrid.

“Well,” Ginny said, suppressing a yawn, “I supposed we’ll have to get you into your little suit
before Mione and I get into our pretty dresses. Sound good?”

Scorpius slowly nodded. He hated when he had to get dressed up, but he was excited that he
got to go to a party with Hermione, so he didn’t moan about it. As if prompted, Hermione
came in with Scorpius’s suit and they began getting ready. First Hermione helped Scorpius
get dressed while Ginny did her makeup. Hermione almost felt useless in her confusion over
all the little tux parts, but Scorpius seemed to know how to put on certain parts and where.
Hermione simply had to help him hop into his trousers and pull his arms into his sleeves.
They decided to leave his jacket off until it was time to leave, so when he was dressed
Hermione took a step back and watched as he fumbled with his tie, sloppily pulling it around
until it made a lopsided bow tie.
“My dad taught me how to do it all by myself,” he said triumphantly. He grinned from ear to
ear in triumph at his little bow and Hermione had to stop herself from cooing at the absolute
adorability of it all. Instead, she showered him with praise, dipping to her knees to meet his
eyes.

“You are so talented,” she said. “You know, I can’t tie a bow tie!” As she said this, she moved
to touch the bow tie as if admiring it while gently straightening it. Scorpius practically
radiated pride at knowing something Hermione didn’t.

“I can teach you!”

“Oh, I’d really like that, but I think we’ll have to do it on a different day. It’s almost time to
leave, though, so Ginny and I have to get our party dresses on.”

Ginny had stood back and watched the two of them, contributing nothing and eager to see
Scorpius in his little suit. The awe at the unbearable cuteness of it all was overridden by the
tightness in her chest she got from watching the two of them in one of their more familial
moments. For as touchy as the subject of mothers and motherhood made Hermione, no one
could deny the maternal way she’d taken to the boy.

When she’d first noticed how Hermione felt about Draco, Ginny couldn’t help but wonder if
it was born from the desire to be Scorpius’s mother. She’d never supposed Hermione would
intentionally pursue a relationship with Draco just to be Scorp’s mum, but she wouldn’t put it
past her to fall for Draco without realizing his son was a big part of the reason.

But then Ginny had sort of gotten to know Draco through the occasional family outings he
got invited on, and he was pretty decent. He and Hermione got on really, really well – they
had similar interests but not similar opinions and it made for some heated discussions. And
they enjoyed it. Like, a lot. It was like some weird foreplay that didn’t ever really end in
fulfillment. Not yet, anyway. Hermione really cared about Draco, and Ginny had no doubt
that Draco cared for her, too. Ginny wanted so badly for the little family tableau they made
could be solidified

When Hermione mentioned their dresses, Ginny nodded quickly and pulled Hermione's dress
from where it hung in her wardrobe. “Mione will have to get dressed first since I haven’t
done my makeup yet. Want to come along with me while she changes?”

Scorpius didn’t actually want to leave Hermione, but he recognized an adult’s gentle hint
when it was given and took Ginny’s proffered hand to follow her from the room. Hermione
made quick work of her putting her dress on and then found a mirror to carefully twist and
pin portions of her hair. She had learned after many years of schmoozing at charity events
that appearing to your best advantage was particularly helpful in garnering donations. Upon
realizing this, she’d tested many different makeup and hairstyles to figure out what image
would draw the most donations. She certainly wasn’t worried about that tonight, but that
didn’t mean she couldn’t take what she’d learned and apply it to her attempt at wooing.

When she was satisfied with her appearance, she re-emerged to find Ginny had already
finished her makeup – an amazing feat considering how much more complex it was
compared to Hermione’s. She’d also managed to do her hair up in a fancy updo.
“Wow,” Ginny breathed, just as stunned as she was that day Hermione had first tried the dress
on. “You look absolutely killer.”

Scorpius ran up to Hermione and hugged her. He was too young to really understand the
significance of getting dressed up. This was just Hermione in a dress that was a pretty color
to him. “Can we go now?” he asked, eager to be reunited with his friends and to show his dad
how he’d tied his bow tie without any help at all!

“Hey now!” Ginny cried. “You’d just leave me here? I haven’t even got my dress on!”

“Sorry!” Scorpius cried, turning back to Ginny. “We’ll wait for you!”

“Oh, thank you,” Ginny said, laughing as she moved to get dressed. When she returned
several minutes later, Hermione had slipped Scorp’s jacket on and he was looking extremely
dapper.

Hermione leaned down and whispered in Scorpius's ear, and the boy parroted her words.
“You look very pretty, Ginny.” He looked up at Hermione to make sure that he said it write
and she smiled at him.

“Well, you’re looking very nice as well! Now, shall we get going before all the good food is
gone?”

“Yeah!” Scorpius said, hopping up and down. His favorite part of parties was the food, and
after his nap, he was definitely ready to eat. He was also excited to get his dad and Mione on
their date so that she could be his mom. But first, creampuffs!

The trio flooed to the event location together and Narcissa quickly stepped forward to meet
them. She glanced kisses off every cheek, and Hermione was surprised to find that her smile
was genuine. They’d arrived a half-hour before the whole shindig was officially set to start,
so Narcissa had yet to replace her genuine grace with the haughty and abiding grace she used
at these things.

The floo sounded again and Narcissa directed them away from the floo and into the grand
ballroom that had been decked out with elegant drapery and elaborate centerpieces adorning
the many tables that had been organized around the perimeter of the room. This left ample
room for the dancing and socializing that would soon be taking place.

“Damn, rich folks really know how to deck a place out, huh?” Ginny whispered to Hermione.

Hermione nodded. “This is modest compared to some of the functions I’ve had to attend.”

“Modest? Ha!”

Scorpius gently yanked on the skirt of Hermione’s gown. “Can we get food now?” His free
hand was placed on his tummy, and he was obviously starting to get hungry or bored enough
to convince himself he was hungry.

“Not yet, sweetie. We’ve got to wait until more people get here.”
Scorpius grimaced and glanced behind her to where a few early guests had started to filter in
after them. He looked back at her, clearly expecting that to be more than enough people.

“How about we wait thirty more minutes or until your dad gets here? Then we can start
eating. We just want to make sure we don’t start eating before the party has begun unless
your dad says it’s okay.”

Hermione knew that it was pretty near Scorpius usually dinner time, but she’d never really
noticed Draco stray from the set dinner time, and she didn’t want to mess up any sort of
schedule he’d put in place. Besides, she knew that Scorpius had indulged in plenty of snacks
throughout the day, and she knew he could manage thirty more minutes even if he didn’t
seem to think he could.

Scorpius, however, didn’t seem to agree. As the time slowly clipped by, he began to drag his
feet. Although some of Hermione’s friends had started to show up, none of them were the
parents of his friends, and he had nothing to distract him. He held tightly to Hermione’s arm,
swaying in boredom. When fifteen minutes had passed, he was sure it’d been at least an hour.

“Can we eat now, please?” He said, tugging on her hand.

“The food isn’t even out yet, Scorp.”

“We can just make the house elves bring it!” He said. His face twisted into a tiny sneer, and
for the first time ever she saw the nasty side of being spoiled that had become Draco’s whole
personality as a child. She had seen the occasional tantrum, but she had never really noticed
that look before.

She realized after a moment that she had always been with Draco when these attitudes arose,
and she had never had to deal with them because Draco always handled them with the quick
expertise that came with being a parent of several years. A quick and cold fear swept down
her spine and she quickly picked him up and whisked him out of the room and into an
abandoned hallway. When she set him down he looked around expectantly. When he realized
they weren’t around food his face dropped into a scowl again and he stomped his foot. She
was grateful he hadn’t shouted.

Hermione kneeled in front of him – difficult in her dress, but she managed – and gently
placed her hands on his shoulders. “Scorpius, I know you want to eat, but the food isn’t ready
yet.”

“But we can get it from the elves! Or go to the kitchen!”

“Scorpius, that wouldn’t be fair to everyone else who is coming to the party. We have to wait
our turn just like everyone else.” He stared at her as if she had betrayed him and she felt
heartsick. “We can try to find Molly and see what snacks she’s carrying in the meantime. I’m
sure she’s around here somewhere.”

“NO!” Scorpius shouted. “I want cream puffs!”

“Scorpius, we do not raise our voices unless we have a very good reason. Now, your nana
organized for everything for the party tonight, and if we want to help her make sure it goes
well, we have to go by the schedule she’s set up.”

“NO!” he shouted again. “NO!”

Hermione scanned the hallway and was grateful to find it blessedly deserted save for some
party staff so busy they couldn’t spare a tantrum having child with half a glance. She turned
back to Scorpius and tried to remember how Draco had dealt with these things.
Unfortunately, she realized that a large part of it was due to the authority he had. She wasn’t
even sure if she was in the right to deny him in the first place. She was responsible for
keeping him safe not disciplining him. Still, she didn’t feel comfortable encouraging the idea
that shouting would get him what he wanted, so she pushed on.

“Scorpius, I will not argue with you on this. We’ve got what – ten or twelve minutes until
your nana gives the order to roll out all the goodies? So how about we stay here and try to
calm down together, hm?”

Scorpius shook her hands off and pouted, a loud “No” included. Then, without thinking about
what he was doing, he pushed Hermione. It was a child’s push, and she had her knees planted
firmly down on the ground. It was simply so shocking that she found herself speechless.

“Scorpius Severus Malfoy!” A stern voice called. Hermione turned and saw Draco stalking
swiftly down the hallway. He threw up a silencing charm around them and squatted down
beside them. He briefly placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder and gave her a silent look of
apology before turning back to Scorpius. “Did you just push Hermione?”

Scorpius turned away from the adults and cast his eyes down. “I want to eat!”

“Nana told me that you have had plenty to eat throughout the day. The game was only a few
hours ago, and I know how much you eat. You’re a little pit, but your tummy isn’t bottomless.
You usually skip lunch after a brekky at Nana’s.”

Scorpius was still pouting and kicking at the floor. “Where’s Teddy?”

“Scorpius, Teddy isn’t here yet, and if you’re going to keep having an attitude, I’m afraid
we’ll be leaving for home.”

“But my friends are coming!” Scorpius said, defiant.

“Well, Hermione is your friend, too, Scorpius, but you’ve not been very nice to her tonight.”

Scorpius looked at Hermione then, his little lips quivering. He was only realizing then that he
had pushed her, and he was terrified that Hermione might hate him now. Just like his mom.
He started crying, sobbing out apologies.

Draco felt sick to his stomach the same way he did every time his son cried, but he couldn’t
let his son’s temper go unchecked like his had at that age. It didn’t result in anything good.
 He watched as Hermione reached out and tried to dry the endless waterfall of years with her
hands.

“I forgive you, Scorpius. I’m not mad. We all get upset sometimes.”

“Do- do you ha-ate me?” He asked, gripping her wrists to keep her close to him.

“No, Scorpius, of course not. I could never hate you. I think it’s just been a long day.” She
moved them so that they were sitting with their backs against the walls, making it easier for
the workers to navigate the hall without worrying about tripping over them. She cuddled
Scorpius into her side and motioned for Draco to sit with them. Instead of going to sit on
Scorpius’s other side, he went to Hermione’s and put his arm around Hermione to pull both
Scorpius and her closer.

They sat there for several minutes together and slowly Scorpius’s sobs subsided into hiccups
and eventually heavy, snotty breathing. Hermione led him through some breathing exercises
and Draco scoffed.

“What?” Hermione asked in a harsh whisper.

“You believe in breathing through emotions but you don’t believe in divination?”

“Studies have shown that breathing and meditation help children develop social and
emotional skills. Divination is staring at random objects and then guessing what some
assumed shape says about your love life.”

Draco chuckled and then said, “You know I believe in divination, right?”

“And I believe in breathing and mindfulness.”

“Alright then,” he said, pulling Scorpius – and by extension Hermione – closer.

A few minutes later and they were all put together again. The last of Scorpius’s sniffles had
disappeared and when they all stood up he buried his face into Hermione’s side. She swooped
down to pick him up and glanced at the clock.

“Gentlemen, I find myself very famished,” she said, “And I believe the refreshments have
been out for some time now. I imagine the line has shortened considerably, too. Shall we go
eat?”

Chapter End Notes

Yall didn’t think I was gonna make a perfect angel child, did you?
 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The line to the refreshments tables was relatively short, but that was in great part due to the
many servers circulating with tidy finger foods. The long, elegant table that had been pushed
against one side of the room contained foods that were “messier.” They were still rather small
finger foods, but they were ones that Narcissa would insist required plates – foods that might
drip or come undone. The satisfying stuff, essentially.

As they slowly walked down the length of the table, Hermione and Scorpius pointed to things
they thought looked tasty and Draco gathered them onto a plate, rolling his eyes at the masses
of food he was piling up. At one point he huffed and turned to look at the two of them,
exasperated and meaning to object to adding another tart to the now precariously stacked
goodies. When he looked up, though, he noticed a kink in his son’s normally pristine hair –
several, in fact.

“What in the world have you done to my son, Granger?” he asked, reaching his free hand to
tug on one of his son’s new curls.

Scorpius puffed his chest out again, the way Hermione was now knew indicated how pleased
with himself he was. “I have curls now, just like Mione! Just like Teddy does sometimes,
too!”

Draco gave Hermione an incredulous look.

“It was that or Sleekeazys. Would you have preferred that? I recall you used to be rather fond
of it.

Draco shuttered and then said, “The curls look, uh, nice, Scor. Just a bit weird to see when
you’ve always had straight hair.”

That was for sure. The Malfoys were known for a very specific sort of look. Even Narcissa
who had married in appeared the exact image of a Malfoy. Hermione chuckled. “Are you
really just noticing his hair? I did that before we even left my apartment.”

They started moving towards a deserted table to enjoy their spoils together. “Well, my
thoughts were a bit preoccupied with other going-ons. Although Mother did seem quite
amused when she was telling me that you had already arrived. I suppose that explains it.”

When the towering plate was set down on the table, Scorpius immediately hopped out of
Hermione’s arms and climbed into the seat that gave him most access to the sweets. He
pulled a cream puff from the middle of the pile like a Jenga piece, and the tower miraculously
remained standing. Hermione slid into the chair to one side of Scorpius and this time Draco
sat on his other side, angling his chair so that he could look at her easily.
“Well, he saw me working on my hair, and he wanted to spruce up a little bit, too.”

“I wanted to be a menta- metga- uh, I wanna be like Teddy and chair my hair to look like
Mione’s.”

“Speaking of Teddy,” Draco drawled, casually glancing over his shoulder, “I believe I saw
him as we were sitting down. Just over there.”

Hermione turned in the same direction and sure enough, there was Teddy with Harry and
Luna.

“TEDDY!” Scorpius shouted, grabbing a tart in his free hand before taking off across the
expansive ballroom towards the friend who had clearly not heard him.

Draco and Hermione watched him until he reached the group. Draco turned back towards the
table, his head swiveling just enough to keep watching Hermione. Hermione kept her eyes
trained on Scorpius for just a little longer to enjoy his renewed mood. She expected him to
hand the tart in his hand to Teddy, but instead, he finished his cream puff and started in on the
tart. Hermione laughed heartily throwing her head as she did so.

Draco was entranced by a curl that fell from where it was pinned and onto her cheek. He
thought he might try that cliché thing all is female friends swooned over by tucking her hair
back behind her ear, but then he thought better of it. He liked her curls, after all, and it looked
better there anyway.

Hermione turned back in her seat then, still chuckling a bit at Scorp’s utter cheekiness. When
she made to glance at Draco, she found him already looking at her. She held his gaze for as
long as she could muster before breaking the eye contact and reaching for a sweet and
nibbling on it to busy herself.

“I wanted to speak with you,” Draco said abruptly. His voice was soft and distant, as he
continued to watch the errant curl bouncing against her blushing face.

Her head popped up suddenly and she let the pastry drop to her napkin. “Oh? What’s this
then?”

Draco came back to his senses and sat up a bit straighter in his seat. There would a good
many things he wanted to speak to her about, but he figured there was a time and a place for
everything, so he settled on what seemed the most appropriate.

“I wanted to speak to you about Scorpius’s tantrum earlier. Beginning with an apology. I
should have expected he’d be finicky. He always is on busy days.”

“He’s a child, Draco. They can be finicky sometimes. I’m just sorry I couldn’t prevent it.”

Draco took a deep breath. “I trust you, you know.”

Hermione startled for a moment before regaining her composure. “I trust you, too, Draco.”
“I trust you,” Draco said, “enough to watch my child. And I hope you know that means that I
trust you to discipline him when he’s being a bit of a snot. If it means a time out or a stern
chat behind a silencio, I trust you to do that.”

“Oh, um, well… I just didn’t feel like it was my place, you know. I know parents all have
different sorts of parenting methods, and I didn’t want to step on your toes or anything.”

“You adore my son, Hermione. We might have different philosophies in a lot of things, but I
trust you to treat him fairly and do your best by him. We all know what happens when a boy’s
temper goes unchecked.”

Hermione felt warmth spreading through her chest at the same time Draco felt panic.
Although he’d left Scorpius with his mother and his friends, he generally specified how he
preferred his son be disciplined – words first, reflection second, removing a privilege if the
attitude continues. He’d never even thought to let Hermione in on these preferences. A
couple of hours watching Scorp was all it was ever meant to be, and besides that, Draco had
known that there was no way Hermione would treat his son unfairly. She’d made a whole
club for bloody house-elves when they were kids. She was all for protecting those who
couldn’t protect themselves.

But it was only as he told Hermione that he trusted her with Scorpius that he realized just
how much he’d trusted her. In all the time since they’d made their original arrangement, he’d
never felt the need to extend his routines or methods to Hermione. Even now, as he told her
that she was Scor’s authority figure when watching him, he didn’t think to mention how he
would prefer she express that authority and to the extent to which she could. He knew she
would make the best choice she possibly could. Hell, she had a way more adjusted childhood
than he had – she’d probably make a better decision.

He was panicking because he had run through all the possible scenarios of how pursuing a
relationship with Hermione could go wrong – how it could hurt Scorpius and how it could
ruin the budding friendship between Draco and Hermione. What he hadn’t considered –
hadn’t realized – was how strong his feelings already were for her.

This wasn’t the little crush it had started out as, and there was no way out now that didn’t end
with him being hurt in some way. If she rejected him, he would hurt and continue to see her
because of Scorpius. If they made a go of it and it failed, the same thing. If he didn’t go for it,
though… then he knew he’d eventually have to watch someone who did take that risk.

Well, he figured if there was no happy way out of this besides the one that spelled a fulfilling
and long relationship, he supposed that’s the only one he could shoot for. He’d made up to his
mind to pursue her before and as far as he could tell, there was no other course to set down
now. He glanced around the room, look for a brief reprieve to gather himself.

“Would you like a drink,” he asked when his eyes landed on the bar line.

“Oh! Uh, yes, please. Whatever you think looks best.”

He nodded, gave a small smile, and got up, taking a few of those stupid deep breaths she’d
had Scorpius take earlier to get his head back on straight.
Hermione was feeling something milder than glee but heavier than happiness. Whatever it
was, it felt intimate and meaningful and maybe it wasn’t that much milder than glee. He
trusted her. He trusted her so much he saw her as an authority figure in his son’s life. It was
sort of a scary thing to know she held that much responsibility, but she was glad it was given
nonetheless. She had never had to consider the issue before tonight, but the panic she had felt
when Scorp had gotten into his mood was enough to get her thinking about all the possible
decisions she might have to make when she was watching him in the future. But it wasn’t that
relief that left her mildly giddy – it was Draco’s trust in general.

She watched his broad back as he walked away from her (and his bottom too if she was being
perfectly honest). Despite not having a drink, she felt as if she’d already imbibed. She felt
someone slide into the seat next to her and turned to see an amused-looking Ginny staring at
her. “Was wondering where you wandered off to. Can’t say I blame you,” Ginny said, giving
Malfoy as much of a once over as she could from such a distance. Even from afar, he was
well fit.

Hermione swatted Ginny’s arm, but she couldn’t help but grin. When Draco glanced back at
her from the line, Hermione pointed at Ginny and mimed a drink so that he knew to bring her
one as well. He nodded before turning his attention to Neville who was making a nervous
attempt at starting a conversation with Draco.

“Oh, and you even have him trained!” Ginny said, incredulous at how accommodating their
childhood nightmare was when it came to Hermione.

Hermione snickered. “Not at all. I believe that’s all thanks to his mother.”

“Where did you kids run off to, then? I didn’t even know Malfoy’d arrived until I saw the
three of you strolling in like a devastatingly beautiful family with an even more devastating
secret. You know, like from one of mum’s knut novels.”

“I happen to like those novels,” Hermione said. “And I’m afraid Malfoy was having a bit of a
tantrum, so we had to step out for a moment.”

Ginny’s face contorted in confusion before it clicked. “Mini Malfoy had a fit? I can’t believe
it! That baby is all peaches in cream. What in the world happened?”

“Oh, he’s just a child, Gin. No child is perfectly tempered. I admit I’d be more worried if he
was even-keeled all the time. Anyway,” Hermione shook her head to refocus her train of
thought, and then leaned in conspiratorially, “I took Scor out in the hallway to avoid a public
outburst, and while I was trying to get the situation under control, Draco found us and we
managed to get everything sorted. We sat in the hall all huddled up together until Scorp
settled a bit.”

Ginny squealed just a tad. “That’s so cute, Hermione. Did you manage to reach around and
get a feel of Malfoy’s biceps or what?”

Hermione blushed and smirked. “No, not his biceps. I could feel his strong chest muscles,
though. He was sitting right beside me, and we were turned just enough that he sort of
situated himself behind me to keep us all gathered up in a little heap.”
Ginny fanned herself with her hand. “Scandalous, Hermione! Absolutely without decorum!
Tell me more.”

Hermione gave Ginny a brief rundown of their trust talked, and she was almost certain that
Ginny was gonna swoon right then and there. If she did pass out, Hermione could always say
Ginny’d had a few before the party began. She didn’t swoon, though, thank Merlin.

“Morgana and Merlin! You had the trust talk? And he basically gave you parent privileges.
That’s like third base!”

“Ginny, I am begging you to stop pick up phrases from the movies Harry shows you.”

“No.”

“That’s not even close to what third base means.”

“What’s this about bases, then?” a voice asked, startling the girls. They hadn’t noticed when
he’d made it to the front of the line or when he’d started back towards them. In tow, he had
Neville and another brunette man they didn’t really recognize.

“Nothing about bases!” Hermione hurried to say, shooting a glare at Ginny who simply
shrugged, genuinely unaware of how wrong she had gotten the meaning of the phrase.

“If you say so,” Draco said before handing one drink to Hermione and another to Ginny
before turning to the unknown gent and taking his own drink from him. Sensing the lingering
looks of the women, Draco smirked and gestured towards his friend. “Ladies, I’m sure you
remember my good friend, Vincent Crabbe. And Crabbe, surely you wouldn’t be able to
forget these lovely women?”

He did remember them, but that was more thanks to the constant news presence of Granger
and Sports presence of Weasley. Crabbe reached his hand across the table and shook
Hermione’s proffered hand. “Nice to see you, Granger.” Then he shook Ginny’s hand. “And
you too, Weasley.”

When he went to pull his hand back, Ginny tightened her grip and leaned forward a bit,
looking up at him through her lightly fluttering lashes. “Oh please, call me Ginny. All my
friends do.”

Hermione went a bit slack-jawed for a moment when she realized that Ginny was flirting
with Vincent Crabbe. She quickly shut her mouth, but Neville, who had yet to say anything to
the girls, was not so quick to shut his mouth and continued to stare even when Ginny had
finally let go of Crabbe’s hand and they had all settled into seats around the table. Draco, for
his part, only raised one eyebrow in amusement.

Hermione took pity on Neville and reached across the table to pat his arm. “Good to see you,
Nev. How are things at the ol’ alma mater?”

Neville was in his third year as a Hogwarts professor and his first official year teaching solo.
That was the only inquiry needed to prompt Neville out of his shock. There was nothing he
liked more than to talk about how his job. “Oh, it’s smashing! I’ve got control of 5
greenhouses and a personal plot for experimentation. I only wish there were more books on
Herbology in the library, but Pince refuses to put any money towards new ones. ‘Herbology
isn’t a popular subject,’ she says, and, ‘plants haven’t changed, Longbottom.’ Honestly!”

Everyone besides Hermione chuckled, amused. Hermione, working in the library and
archival profession, was absolutely horrified. As a child, she had loved all the old texts in the
Hogwarts library, and as an archivist, she still loved old things. But as an adult in the
profession, she was horrified to think of all the misinformation and outdated texts in the
library. It was dangerous to put that potentially wrong information in the hands of eager yet
underinformed students. She shuddered to think of what horrific things could have happened
if the Polyjuice potion she’d made in second year had been made from the 3rd edition of
Moste Potente Potions instead of the 5th that she’d found in the restricted section.

“Oh, that’s awful! If you’re going to be set in your ways, perhaps you shouldn’t be in a
profession that is so intrinsically tied to education. Honestly!” When she’d finished speaking,
Hermione snatched up her drink and took a sip. She smiled and turned to Draco. “Pinot
Grigio is my favorite.”

“I know,” he said, a self-satisfied expression settling over his face.

Neville was sort of surprised to actually witness the relationship that had been the talk of not
only the newspapers and his friends, but his students and colleagues as well. He was pleased
to see that the reports from his friends were true and it wasn’t just a normal friendship that
everyone was desperate to turn into some sort of rebound for Hermione.

Crabbe assumed the two were already dating, and that Draco must just be keeping it quiet. He
was just relieved that Draco seemed interested in dating at all. Their circle of friends had
discussed it before – when he wasn’t around, of course! They were all worried about him
being alone, especially once Scorp went off to school. If things worked out with Granger
that’d be great, but if it didn’t then at least Dray was back in the game.

Ginny just thought it was both funny and irritating that were both so very clearly panting over
one another. She’d become mostly desensitized to the moony eyes and cutesy back and forth.

As Neville watched the interaction, he was reminded of a message the headmistress had
asked him to pass on. “Oh! I’ve just remembered! Hermione, McGonagall wanted me to tell
you to expect a letter from her in the next couple of weeks and to only respond once you’ve
really thought it through. Suspect it’s actually about old Pince’s retirement if I’m honest. Hey,
if you take Pince’s job, you’d buy Herbology books, yeah? For the kids, I mean.”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I’m afraid I quite like my job, Neville.” She
noticed Draco side-eyeing her. “Oh, what?”

He lifted his glass in a little shrug. “Oh, you know… You love your job, yeah, but do you
love it more than the library at Hogwarts?”

Hermione pursed her lips. Well played. She’d be lying if she hadn’t thought about it before,
but she didn’t see the point in putting too much thought into before an offer was even
extended. Not to mention all her expertise was in special libraries and archives.

“Well, if you do end up at Hogwarts, maybe put some budgeting towards books on the
Cornish Pixie Eater species of plants? They're a bit pricy, but they could have so much
influence on the future of both basic and advanced potion-making.”

Crabbe looked confused for a moment as if trying to remember something and then snapped
his fingers and suddenly looked excited. “You know where I’ve heard that name before?
Greg! Greg doesn’t do much nowadays, so he’s taken up herbology. He just got some crazy
expensive books on that Cornish whatever, and he keeps trying to talk all our ears off about.”

“Really?” Neville asked, suddenly excited. “There are only 3 currently published in the
English language and they’re practically impossible to get!”

Hermione scoffed, “And these are the books you wanted me to get with school funding?”

Neville had the decency to blush. “Well, you know, it’d be great for the kids who are really
interested, you know!”

If anyone had their eyes on Draco at the moment, they might have noticed the way his
nostrils flexed slightly, a trait his friends loving referred to as ‘Draco smelling blood.’

“I’m sure Greg would be glad to speak to you about it. Maybe even let you see the books. As
Vincent has pointed out, no one in our friend group is as, uh, enthusiastic as Greg is and as
you seem to be. I’m sure Vin could introduce you.”

“Yes, certainly,” Crabbe said, looking to Neville. Crabbe had to hold back his laughter at
Draco’s natural matchmaking tendencies flaring up. He’d matched off many of their friends
both before and after his own marriage had failed. Normally when they caught on, he’d
simply say he’d seen in in the cards or when looking too long into a glass of water. But even
Crabbe, simple as even he would admit he was, could see the potential for at least a
friendship, if not a relationship between the two herbologists.

Neville hesitated for a moment. He’d already played nice with two of his Slytherin
tormentors that night. Then again, what was one more? And those were some exceptional
books. “Sure! Yeah! Why not?” The pitch of his voice was just a tad higher, giving away his
nervousness to everyone at the table, but they pretended they hadn’t heard it.

When Neville and Crabbe stood to go find Greg, Ginny stood up, too, and grabbed Crabbe’s
arm. She really did not want to third wheel Draco and Hermione, and she wouldn’t mind
hanging around Crabbe a bit more. “Mind if I come along, Vincent?” she asked. “Only, I
wouldn’t want you to get too bored once those two get started on all the herbology talk.” She
squeezed his arm.

Vincent, still not understanding that she was pretty aggressively hitting on him, nodded
happily. “That’d be great. If it isn’t curse-breaking or quidditch, I’m pretty lost.”

Like that, it was like a flip switched in Ginny. She straightened up, no longer leaning towards
him as she had been, and her eyes had become wide with interest. “What’s your team?”
“Montrose Magpies.”

“Hmm,” Ginny squinted her eyes. “Let me tell you why you’re wrong.”

Crabbe shrugged. “Okay.”

The three of them walked away, Crabbe leading them in the direction of where he’d last seen
Greg.

“Ah, friends!” Draco said, sarcastically. “So fleeting.”

Hermione kept staring after them.

“What’s with you?” Draco asked.

“I could have sworn she was talking to Dean Thomas lately and just keeping it quiet.”

Draco looked back towards their friends. “Well, if they were, ahem, talking, it doesn’t look
like it was anything particularly serious.”

“You know, she said they weren’t romantic, but I just assumed she was trying to cover it up
for now.”

Draco pinched her arm.

“Ow!” she yelped before slapping his arm. “What was that for?”

“I just can’t believe you’re bothered by a friend’s potential relationship when-” Draco
paused, considering his next words. “When you’ve a potential job offer on the horizon.”

“Ugh!” Hermione groaned. “Possibly. Maybe. Neville is just guessing, really. No point
thinking about it until it’s happened.”

“Please,” Draco said, “I doubt you’ll be thinking of anything else for the next month.”

Hermione reached out and touched his arm – his bicep as she was sure she’d have to recount
to Ginny later – and smiled. “I promise that I’ll try not to think about it until at least
tomorrow. If I can. I’ll try at least.”

Draco held her gaze. He was vaguely aware of the music that had started to play. His mother
would never start the dancing before 7 PM. Was it really that late already. He opened his
mouth to ask her to dance.

“Let’s dance!”

The two broke their prolonged eye contact to look at the little body that had popped up
between them.

“I don’t really know how to dance, but Harry said since I’m your date we gotta dance
because that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
 Hermione smiled and grabbed Scorpius’s hands, letting him pull her towards where plenty of
couples and a few parents with their children were dancing.

Draco watched them as they walked towards the center of the room, sighing as Hermione
hiked Scorpius onto her hip and started swaying. He watched them giggle and glide before
turning his gaze back to Potter. Harry was watching him with an amused look on his face.
When Draco glared at him, Harry responded with a thumbs up.

Draco rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the dancing crowd. He watched as
Hermione twisted and turned and dipped his son every which way. Scorpius giggled and
screeched and clung to her in joy.

He supposed he could forgive Harry Potter’s interference just this once.

Chapter End Notes

Why are people always giving love to Gregory Goyle and never my favorite himbo,
Vincent Crabbe? As I’m sure you can already tell, I refuse to let my main hos die.
Deathly Hallows who? Also, yes, Draco is Jane Austen’s Emma in his personal life
 Chapter 19
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott watched Draco watch Hermione. They’d each managed to
down a pint and a half before Draco had even noticed they’d sat down beside him. Even then,
he’d only noticed thanks to their intentionally loud chatter.

“Can’t even stop looking at her! What a pushover.”

“Please, Nott, like you weren’t willing to let Wilhelmina walk all over you to get a date!”

Theo scoffed. “And look where it got me. Alone at a party while she lives it up in the Virgin
Islands with her new boy toy.”

That got Draco’s attention, and he turned to face his friends. “Dumped again, then?”

“Staring longingly and obviously in public, then?” Theo retorted.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Draco responded, smug and relishing the nervous high that came
with realizing just how much you liked someone and knowing that you were going to do
something about it.

Blaise whistled, impressed with Draco’s brazen admission. “So you’re admitting it then?”

Draco waved his hand dismissively and shrugged. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

Blaise and Theo scooted their chairs closer to either side of Draco, leaning into his personal
space.

“So, are you dating or what?” Theo asked, determined that the two had to have been together
for some time now while Blaise was certain they’d not taken that plunge yet.

“Or what,” Draco said.

“Come on,” Theo said. “You can’t really be putting your matchmaking hat back on without
having your own romance sorted.” Theo motioned across the room to where Greg Goyle and
Neville Longbottom were stationed against a wall, speaking animatedly and leaning rather
intimately towards one another.

“Sure he can,” Said Blaise. “All the better to avoid making his own move. Hell, it may even
help set the mood. Love in the air and all that.”

Draco took a slow sip of his beer before looking to Blaise’s face, Then to Theo’s. “You’ve a
wager, haven’t you?” His friends’ sheepish looks were enough confirmation. “Well? How
much are my feelings and theorized relationship worth, then?”
“Seven galleons and a round at the Hogshead next time we’re up that way?” Blaise asked
more than said, quickly glancing at Theo to see if he thought they should up the ante. Theo,
however, was avoiding his gaze, his eyes darting around the room in a bid to avoid Draco’s
potential wrath.

To both Blaise and Theo’s surprise, Draco simply huffed and smiled. “Good to know how
little you value my happiness.”

Theo steadied his gaze and trained it back on Draco. “So help us figure out who’s won. Are
you dating or not?”

The final, wavering note of a violin faded into the applause from the dancers and spectators
alike. As Draco clapped, he moved towards the dance floor ignoring his friends as they called
after him demanding answers. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to turn around,
they slumped back into their seats.

“I can’t believe it,” Theo said with a huff. “He-who-must-not-be-tamed is utterly whipped.”

“It’s not being whipped if you like it, Theo.”

“Tell that to sadists.”

“Oh look! There’s my beautiful girlfriend! Afraid I must go be one of those whipped men
who enjoys daily love and companionship. Hell, I might even get laid.”

Pansy approached, an overly full glass of wine in her hands that was kept from spilling over
with a simple charm.

“You’re definitely getting laid to night because I need to get laid tonight, and I’ll be too
sloshed to put effort into seducing someone else.”

“Ah,” Blaise sighed, placing a hand over his chest. “Be still my beating heart.”

Pansy passed her drink to Theo before dragging Blaise onto the dancefloor. The two
wandered over to where Draco, Hermione, and Scorpius were gathered.

Scorpius had begun whining about how he had to leave soon. Although it had been near two
hours since they’d arrived at the party, a good chunk of that time had been spent breathing
through his tantrum, so he hadn’t felt like he’d gotten any time at all to enjoy the party. A fair
assessment, honestly, but Narcissa had indicated that children would be expected to leave
with their parents or caregivers to ensure that the adults had enough time to rub elbows and
wallets, and Narcissa was not someone to deviate from her plans.

Blaise kneeled in front of Scorpius and tugged his hand into their secret handshake. Scorpius
didn’t really like it much, but Blaise seemed to think it was really fun, so Scorpius usually
went along with it. When it was finished, Blaise put his hands on Scorpius's shoulders and
squinted as if considering him. “Did I hear you say you don’t want to leave?”

“There’s so much food left and Teddy and Victoire and me-”
“Victoire and I,” Hermione idly corrected.

Scorpius looked up at her and scrunched up his nose. “No, not you Mione. You’re too big.
Anyway, Teddy and Victoire and me were gonna play hide and seek. And- and it’s not fair!
Mione and Dad get to stay! Why can’t I?”

“Psh! I’d leave if I could, Scor. It just gets more and more boring the later it gets. Just adults
chatting about jobs and dancing to slow music. So boring, am I right?”

Scorpius sneered at Blaise and then turned to bury his face in Hermione’s dress. Blaise
sniffed back his disdain and rose back to his full height. Pansy was choking back a snort of
amusement at the crystal clear rejection Blaise and had just experienced.

Hermione rubbed soothing circles on Scorpius back. “You know,” she said, shooting a look at
Draco that warned him from contradicting her next words, “I think you can stay.”

“Really?” He asked, keeping his arms around her legs but pulling his face back to look up at
her. Draco’s raised eyebrows indicated his own surprise at Hermione’s words, but when
Scorpius looked at him for confirmation, he shrugged and nodded.

“I’m sure your Nana could be convinced,” Hermione said. “I’m sure Victoire and Teddy will
miss you tonight, but I’d be glad to dance with you some more.”

The adults watched as her words rolled around in the boy’s mind. “But I want Teddy to stay.
And Victoire, too!”
Hermione gave a sigh. “Oh, I’m afraid I don’t think they can stay. They’ve got to go with Mr.
and Mrs. Weasley.”

“Oh… um,” Scorpius rested his cheek on Hermione’s legs as he thought about what he
should do. After a few seconds, he stood up again and let go of Hermione’s leg. “I think I can
go with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”
Hermione feigned surprise. “Oh! Are you sure?”

Scorpius mumbled some sort of confirmation, suddenly more worried about finding his
friends before they left him behind. Draco and Hermione shared an amused look as if
reveling in the silly moment together. Pansy let out a low whistle and hmmed in agreement.
Neither of them had ever seen Draco so happy and - Merlin protect them all - domestic.

Hermione tapped Scorpius between his shoulder blades to get his attention and then pointed
out where the Weasleys were standing with Victoire and Teddy. Scorp, seeing his friend,
dragged Hermione and his dad together as he hugged them both at once. “Love you!” he said
before rushing away to join the others.

Draco let his hand rest at the small of Hermione’s back as they watched Scorpius awkwardly
dodge between the legs of the party guests. When he finally reached the Weasleys, he turned
back to his dad and Mione and gave a big wave. They waved back and watched the jaunty
group head off towards the floo before moving their attention back to Blaise and Pansy.
“Very sly how you convinced Scorpius to leave, Granger,” Pansy said. “Sure you weren’t
meant for Slytherin w”ay back when?”

Hermione shrugged. “Just because I wasn’t a hatstall doesn’t mean I didn’t have my options
laid out for me. I’d simply done the pros and cons for each house before arriving at
Hogwarts, and the old hat knew better than to try and push against my list favoring
Gryffindor.”

“Not to mention you’d have probably started a whole argument with the bloody thing in front
of the entire school,” Draco said, the teasing’s effectiveness cut by the fondness that saturated
his tone.

“Now that I would have loved to see,” Blaise said, imaging a little 11 year old getting into a
debate with an enchanted garment that had gone unquestioned for centuries.

Pansy sighed. “All for the best. We’d have been tolerant of you in public, but we’d have still
bullied you mercilessly in private.”

Blaise elbowed Pansy, horrified that his girlfriend had stated the brutally honest truth, but
Hermione smiled. She appreciated the honesty.

“You might have done,” Hermione said. “But I’ve always known how to handle myself,
Parkinson. Wouldn’t take long for the rest of you to learn that I do not turn the other cheek.”

Draco, whose face had gone impassive at the mention of his past bullying Hermione,
suddenly scoffed and rejoined the conversation. “Didn’t take us long to learn that anyways!
Bloody banshee, you are.”

“Oh shush,” she said, pinching his arm, “Or I might just punch you again.”

Blaise sputtered and Pansy let out a peal of joyous laughter that had others glancing over at
her in curiosity or annoyance.

“I forgot about that!” Pansy said, but something in her voice - or perhaps the glitter of her
eyes - told Hermione that was a complete lie. In fact, Hermione had a feeling that was
something Pansy probably thought about a lot.

“Sorry,” Blaise said, holding his free hand up. He turned the full force of his gaze on
Hermione. “Catch me up. You did what to who now?”

Hermione leveled her gaze back and Blaise and realized that he hadn’t been there. She’d not
really seen him hang around Malfoy much before fourth or fifth year, if she really thought
about it. She glanced at Draco and noticed his face was flushed and he was refusing to look at
any of them. He was too proud to let rumors about himself spread, and he’d run too tight a
ship to let his goons think anything they let slip would be easily forgiven.
Pansy looked like she might choke on her laughter. She was turning seriously blue in the
face.
Hermione, face flaming, called on her Gryffindor bravery. She looped her arm through
Draco’s, which had dropped from her waist in his embarrassment. “All do respect, Zabini -
what Draco and I do when you aren’t around is none of your business. Now, if you don’t
mind, I’m rather keen on this song, so…” she let the statement hang there, tugging Draco
away from them despite the fact that they were already on the dance floor.

When they had made put what Draco determined to be a fair bit of distance between them
and his friends, Draco stopped and artfully spun her around to face him, smoothly
transitioning them into a dance.

“I thought your objective was to dance to this song,” he said, gently leading her as they
swayed and stepped in an intimate circle.

“Yes it was,” she said, nudging her nose against his shoulder. She wasn’t sure if he was
wearing cologne or if the spicy scent was simply from his soap. She pulled her head back to
look up at him. “What is this song anyways?”

“You don’t know? Didn’t you say you were keen on this song?”

“Well, keen to dance to it anyways. And I thought the opening notes were quite nice.”

Draco pressed the space between her shoulder blades gently and she let herself be brought
close to him again. This time, though, she turned her head and let her cheek rest against his
chest. His hand slid from her shoulder to the dip of her lower back and then up again, carving
a soothing path across the length of her spine.

“Pretty sure it’s an instrumental rendition of some Celestina Warbeck song. Couldn’t say
which - they all sound the same - but Mother is a fan, so there’s no doubt she’s thrown a few
requests in. She always does when she’s the one running the show.”

Hermione giggled, trying to imagine Narcissa Malfoy of all people singing along to A
Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love. Draco suddenly spun her, and she laughed, throwing one
arm out with a flourish before he pulled her back in. She was almost certain that with each
spin he managed to bring her closer - to find some minuscule space between them and close
it. When the song ended, they each took a step back from one another - just enough to clap
for the musicians. It was enough time to notice the numerous pairs of eyes watching them.
Still, they hovered beside each other, not bothering to put anymore space between them.

A short and rather obviously inebriated man approached them, greeting Hermione loudly and
forcing the couple to step off the dance floor. Draco grit his teeth and put on his winsome
smile. Just because he’d forgotten that this was meant to be a schmooze fest didn’t mean the
rest of the guests had. Draco’s left hand found Hermione’s back again, and she intentionally
pressed her side into his.

“Mr. Valente,” she said, reaching out to provide her customary almost-too-firm handshake.
“How lovely to see you. Are you enjoying the evening?”

“Oh, yes indeed. No one throws a gala quite like Narcissa Malfoy,” he said, glancing at
Draco.
 Draco took that to be his cue. “I’ll be sure to pass the compliment along,” he said, tacking on,
“Draco Malfoy, by the way.”

That seemed enough of a prompt for Valente to launch into raptures over the charity game
from earlier. Being reminded of the events of that afternoon left a bitter taste in Hermione’s
mouth, and it took everything she had in her to not grimace despite Valente’s interest lying
solely in the match itself. Hermione felt the confidence she’d been trying to exude dip, and
she began subtly glancing around for an excuse to step away.

Or not so subtly, she supposed when Draco’s hand moved from her back to hold her waist,
firmly drawing her in again. Hermione glanced up at his face, but his eyes seemed steady on
Valente, and his smile was just charming enough to distract from the dull, bored look in his
eyes. By the time Valente was done regaling Draco with the details of the match (as if Draco
hadn’t been there), he had promised a substantial donation. “Ah, yes, well… children are our
future and all that.”

It was clear he had no clue what exactly he was actually donating to, but that didn’t deter
Hermione from accepting his donation graciously. When he slipped away, Draco started to
pull her back to the dance floor where it was much harder to be interrupted, but the deep and
generous pockets of the donors would not be deterred from speaking to one of the “most
talented players of modern quidditch” as one woman had said, much to Draco’s amusement.

After the fourth interruption, both Hermione and Draco were coming to realize that their date
was not going quite how either had imagined.

Chapter End Notes

Regular updates? Never heard of her. Trying to get caught up on my Goodreads goal.
I swear they’re gonna kiss eventually. I just get so wordy and then it’s too late in the
chapter to make it happen 👉👈
 Chapter 20
Chapter Notes

Uhhhh, I bumped the rating up because the sexual tension did go up just a tad bit.

As the night wound to a close, Hermione could feel little but relief. Excitement for spending
the evening with Draco had swiftly been replaced by exhaustion. Were she less of a
perfectionist, her shoulders would have bowed under the weight of the night’s schmoozing.
When the guests finally began filtering out at midnight, just as Narcissa had predicted they
would, they passed through the two quidditch teams waiting beside the door for final
farewells. Hermione and Narcissa stood at the very end, accepting last minute donations and
promising to send reminders to those who had promised donations but had not yet paid out.

A subtle threat: you wouldn’t want to be seen backing out of a charitable donation that
absolutely everyone whose anyone had heard you make.

When the last guest stepped out, many of the quidditch players slumped over in exhaustion.
Those who weren’t ready to fall into bed seemed hell bent on finding a bar to celebrate.
Hermione had to repress her laughter as some of the younger players tried to get Narcissa to
join them at the bar. Hermione managed to successfully extract herself from the crowd that
was planning to continue the night without being suckered into a going along to the pub with
the rest.

She naturally found herself glancing around the room in search of Draco. When her eyes
found him, he was already leaning on a near by door jam. He had been staring at her, and
when she met his gaze he smirked and ducked out of the room. Hermione looked over her
shoulder at the remainders. Narcissa had already disappeared somewhere, likely to direct the
cleanup and settle any outstanding debts with the caterer. Trying not to draw attention to
herself, Hermione casually moved towards the door, finding Draco leaning against the wall
opposite her.

“About time. I’m starved, and I imagine you are, too.”

She nodded. “I tried to go back for our stack of goodies at one point, but they were gone.”

“Servers probably saw them abandoned and tossed them.”

“Such a waste!” Draco waved his hand as if dismissing the topic. “No, really, Draco! Food
waste is a serious problem. It’s endemic in-“

“Granger, if you must tell me, could you tell me over a very late dinner?”
Hermione remembered the time. “I’d prefer an early breakfast, thanks, but I doubt
anywhere’s open at the moment.”

“You know, I am a somewhat competent cook. Can’t bake to save my life, but I can make a
pancake.”

Hermione hesitated. She hadn’t been alone with someone so late - so early - in quite a long
time, and unless she was mistaken, he was inviting her back to his place. Scorp would be at
the Weasley’s until the morning.

Hermione straightened her spine and hoped that Draco didn’t notice the slight shudder in her
breathing. “Can you do waffles?”

He could not do waffles, but that did not stop the wizard from trying. Hermione couldn’t
deny that the weird aluminum foil shape he’d created to pour the batter over really could
have worked. Only it didn’t. He tried though.

He tried.

Hermione sat on the counter beside the stove top, laughing as Draco cursed and burned his
fingers. Draco had lent her a tshirt and (mortifyingly) and old pair of slytherin jogger shorts.
(‘Why do you even still have these?’, she’d asked, and his dismissive shrug told her it was
thanks to his hidden sentimentality.) Draco had not yet changed, opting to throw off his
blazer and roll up his sleeves as he moved immediately for the kitchen.

Now, his brow furrowed in concentration and frustration and his shirt still buttoned all the
way up and her dressed in comfy clothes, Hermione felt like the moment held a special sort
of intimacy. And anticipation.

Lots of anticipation.

When she’d had her fill of amusement and was ready to be filled with food, she moved to the
cabinet that she had seen Draco pull his pan from. Grabbing another, Hermione transfigured
the plate of the pan so that it rose into a grid that should give them something similar to a
waffle. She gently nudged him away from the stove, removing the pan with the aluminum
flapjack monstrosity and replacing it with the new pan.

Draco’s cheeks were red - from the heat of the stove or the embarrassment of not having
thought of simply transfiguring the pan.

“Go change,” Hermione said. “It’s a miracle that you’ve gone this long without getting
anything on your clothing, and I will not be reimbursing your for any damage done to it just
because I wanted waffles.”

Draco didn’t argue. He felt the heat radiating from her nearby body far more than he felt the
heat rising from the stove, and he felt he might just spontaneously combust if she continued
gently nudging his arm with her bare foot in an attempt to sabotage his waffle attempts.
Waffles he was making for her! Ungrateful witch.

He changed into a simple Cannons t shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants quickly enough
before moving to the bathroom for the more time consuming task of primping. He splashed
cool water on his face in a bid to clear his mind and then carefully styled his hair back into
perfectly manufactured casualness. It was only when the distinct smell of burning floated to
him that he decided he’d prettied himself enough. After all, his home wouldn’t be set ablaze
if intentionally errant piece of hair didn’t stay in just the right place, but it might burn down if
Granger was left alone in the kitchen.

Draco, almost completely unintentionally, pressed into Hermione’s back to reach around and
grabbed the pan, tossing it into the sink and casting two scorgifys. “Where’s your brain at,
Hermione? Could you not smell that awful burning.”

The only burning Hermione’d noticed was her cheeks. Despite her embarrassment, she
managed to huff indignantly. “Always so dramatic! It wasn’t bad. That’s just what it smells
like when it’s cooking.”

Draco stared at her, silent for a long moment before giving her a pitying look. “I see you were
serious when you said you couldn’t cook.”

“Says the man who tried to use tinfoil to make waffles.”

“Oh! From the woman who thinks the smell of burnt food is normal.”

“I told you, I bake. It’s much easier. No guess work. You just follow the recipe and then you
eat.”

“One does not subsist on baked goods alone,” Draco said. He oiled the pan and moved back
stove top, nudging his hip against hers as he placed the pan on the still hot burner. When she
moved to give him a bit more space, he moved to hold her upper arm, saying nothing. He
released her after a few seconds when he was sure she would remain by his side and moved
to make their waffles. Really, he was famished, and as lovely as it was to hear here laugh, he
had to eat.

Hermione must have felt the same because she didn’t mess with him as the waffles began to
form a stack on a nearby plate. Hesitantly, Hermione laid her head on the shoulder that wasn’t
actively engaged in the flipping or plating of the food. Draco made sure to keep the arm she
was settled against as still as he could manage.

When the stack was precariously high, Draco levitated the plate to the coffee table in the
living room. Hermione pulled herself away from him, leaving Draco’s arm cold, and grabbed
the syrup and utensils from that had been set to the side. Draco grabbed plates and their mugs
of tea, and the two set up their little meal, kneeling next to one another on the plush carpet.

The two didn’t chat much as they ate. Draco was constantly adding syrup to his stack, and
Hermione could swear it was giving her a toothache. As Hermione’s hunger was satisfied, her
attention began to return to Draco and the space they were sharing - the way their arms
touched and the muscles she could feel flexing as she each time they bumped each other.

Hermione leaned back against the couch and kicked her legs out under the coffee table. She
watched Draco as he tried to scoop the remainder of his syrup using his fork. She was almost
in awe that this was the same boy who’d sat across the great hall from her for so many years.
Harry, Ron, and she would sometimes joke about how buttoned up the boy was (even if
Hermione very openly yearned for the boys to take a bit more care in their manners). Now,
here was that stiff, ill-mannered boy savoring his food in a manner that she was sure would
have his mother shuddering, and she was sat beside him. Touching him.

A glob of syrup fell from the fork and landed on his chin, and Hermione reached out and
wiped it away with her thumb. Draco turned slightly toward her then, eyes just wide enough
to reveal his surprise. His cheeks warmed beneath her fingers which still rested on the side of
his face.

Heart pounding, Hermione tried to summon more than Gryffindor bravery - she needed
Ginny confidence.

She kept her breathing measured and even as she pulled her hand back and placed the sticky
thumb in her mouth. She couldn’t taste it at all. All of her attention was focused into
watching Draco. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and she would guess that he was clenching
his jaw. Watching his pupils dilate as he watched her excited and emboldened her. She pulled
the thumb from her mouth with a little pop and then pointed at the fork he was now holding
with a vice like grip.

“You’d be better of with a spoon. Or even your finger.”

“A finger?” He asked, incredulous. “I’m not an animal or a toddler, Granger.”

“Yes, a finger, Malfoy. Much easier to get the whole surface that way. Don’t you ever scrape
at the side of a bowl when you’re baking.”

“I think we’ve already established,” Draco said, his voice low and breathy, “I don’t bake.”

Hermione shrugged, letting her gaze linger on his plate, afraid that she might lose her nerve
again if she looked away. Suddenly the plate shifted, pushed towards her by a strong, pale
hand. She did look up at him then.

“Please, do show.”

“Ha! You can’t even imagine doing something so pedestrian as using your finger to clean
your plate? We aren’t in public or polite society, Draco, it’s okay to be a little naughty.”

He could imagine. That was the problem. He’d likely be imagining that on and off for the
next, oh, lifetime or two. He nudged the plate against her wrist. “Show me, then. Be
naughty.”
Hermione saw the challenge in his eyes shining past what she was almost certain was desire
(for her!). She was enjoying the feeling of being desired and challenged and flirtatious and -
and naughty. Feigning nonchalance, she grabbed the plate and slid her index finger over it in
a circle, accumulating so much syrup that it was practically dripping off her finger. She made
a triumphant show of it before popping the finger into her mouth, curling her tongue around
her finger in a salacious display.

Draco wasn’t sure if his mouth was dry or watering. Was it possible for both to be true? The
minx knew what she was doing - that he was sure of. He was also pretty sure that he wasn’t
gonna get a clearer signal that she was, at the very least, just as attracted to him as he was to
her. It was his turn to be brave. When she pulled the offending and glorious finger from her
mouth, moving as if she was going to swipe it across the plate again, he reached out and
grabbed her wrist. As startled as she was by his sudden grasp and the yank that soon
followed, she couldn’t find herself to be upset when the resulting position was pressed up
against him in one of the many ways she had often imagined.

She’d always imagined this hold would accompany a slow and tender kiss, not the bruising,
fast, and utterly perfect snog she’d got. When his tongue slid into her mouth, he practically
dragged it across her own as if trying to steal back the syrup she’d taken from his plate. After
a minute (hour? second?), Draco pulled back slightly, suddenly giving her the slow,
controlled kiss she’d expected. His right index finger traced a line up and down the back of
her neck, and her hands had, unbeknownst to her, snaked under his shirt and pressed him
firmly to her.

When she pulled her lips away for a bit of air, she was shocked to hear a near whimper come
from Draco. He didn’t look as if he’d even recognized the sound as his own. He only looked
at bereft at no longer kissing her, and a sudden giggle. At that, Draco scowled, lightly
pinching the back of her neck, which only made her giggle turn into a full laugh. She felt
ridiculously silly, but she couldn’t find anything to tether her back to reality, nor did she
particularly want to.

His arms still wrapped around her and hers around him, Hermione indicated the clock on the
mantelpiece with a nod of her head. “Would you… mind if I stayed the night? Wouldn’t want
to floo this time of night, you know. Might mess my words up, I’m so tired.”

Draco’s inhale shuddered, making clear just how affected he was. “I don’t normally sleep
with someone on the first date, Granger.”

“I do,” she said. That was a blatant lie, but she wanted to stay.

“I’ve not even bought you dinner,” Draco said. Contrary to his protests, his grip on her
tightened.

“You made dinner, and I’d guess you bought the ingredients, too.”

“And we did dance.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, bringing her face closer to his again. “Really, the only cliche we’re
missing is flowers.”
“I can get those easily,” he said.

“Then?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Draco asked.

Hermione answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“And what about after I go and pick up Scorpius?”

Hermione recognized what the question really meant. It was what they were both still too
afraid to blatantly voice.

“Perhaps by then I’ll have some coffee made by then. I could put Scor’s juice in a his little
mug. I know he likes to-”

Draco hadn’t processed a word past coffee before he had himself careening back into
Hermione.

She didn’t seem to mind.

 Chapter 21

She'd been disappointed when she woke up and Draco wasn't beside her. She sat up bleary-
eyed and slightly confused. If it were for the ridiculously silky sheets and unfamiliar room,
she might not have believed the previous night - rather, this morning? - had happened at all.
Sitting up, Hermione found a note on the other pillow indicating that he'd left to pick up
Scorpius and shouldn't be too long. She giggled softly imagining how nervous Draco must be
after letting his son spend a whole evening with the Weasleys.

True to her word, Hermione had two steaming mugs of coffee and a glass of apple juice set
out on the kitchen table. Keeping her distance from the stove, she found some strawberries
and bananas that she sliced up and organized on a plate. It was more for Draco and she since
she was absolutely certain Molly would have seen him off with a full English. She nervously
fiddled with the fruit, rearranging them to create different patterns while she waited for her
boys.

When she heard the floo go off she perked up. Before she could get to her feet to go greet
them, Scorpius was barreling into the kitchen full tilt towards her. Had Hermione not braced
her arm against the table, she was certain he would have sent her chair tilting backward
taking the two of them with it.

"You're here!" Scorpius's exclamation was muffled by Hermione the shirt that Hermione had
reducio-ed to fit her a bit more appropriately. "Dad said you were here, but I didn't believe
him. But you're here!"

Hermione hugged him to her before gently pulling him back to look into his face. "I am here.
I was really tired after the party, so your dad said I could sleep over. Is that alright?"

Scorpius nodded vigorously. "I had a sleepover with Teddy, and Dad had a sleepover with
you! And guess what! Teddy and I got to sleep in the same room, and-" he lowered his voice
to a whisper suddenly, "we stayed up even after Mrs. Molly told us we needed to go to bed,
but we didn't stay up super late, I promise! We fell asleep even though we didn't want to."

Hermione's smile undermined the stern look she attempted to give him. "Sleep is very
important for your brain. If you want to learn as many spells as you can when you're older,
you have to make sure to sleep lots every night."

At this point, Draco slid into a seat at the table and snatched a strawberry from the plate. He
held it teasingly close to his mouth as he said, "It's only once you're an adult and you've
passed all your exams that you might start sleeping a little less at time." Occasionally his lips
would hit the strawberry as his lips pursed to form a certain word.

"Do you stay up late, Mione?" Scorpius asked. His face was incredulous like he was about to
discover some puzzle many of the researchers she saw at the archive daily strived to solve.

Draco popped his strawberry into his mouth, chewing slowly with a stupid, smug look on his
face. It was times like these that filled Hermione with playful indignation that had her nearly
desiring to give his pretty, pointy face another slap. These moments were the crispest
reminder that this man had been the same boy who's enlarged her teeth and called her lower
than scum.

She relished these moments.

When they both started to get under each other's skin with teasing and prodding, she was
reminded of just how far they had come. This relationship - platonic as it was and as un-
platonic as it was becoming - was really between the Draco Malfoy and the Hermione
Granger. They had changed, sure. Everyone had changed, but that didn't make them different
people. They were simply moving forward. Sometimes she wondered what Hogwarts would
have been like for them if they could have this sort of friendly bickering between them, but
she knew it wouldn't have meant as much under that scenario as it did now. Not in the same
way, anyway.

A tug on her sleep brought her back to reality. She had been staring unseeingly at Draco as he
chewed, and he seemed highly amused by her distraction. The tug again.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, remembering Scorpius's question, and scrambling for an answer.
"Yes, well - I do stay up late sometimes, but I always make sure to sleep very early on the
following night to make up for it."

Scorpius nodded very seriously, already planning which of his stuffed animals had to go to
bed early with him and which to let stay up to keep Dad company. He didn't want his dad to
be lonely without him to hang out with. Unless Mione and Dad were going to have
a double slumber party. Teddy had told him he got to do that once with Victoire at their
cottage, and Teddy thought it sounded pretty fun, but he also didn't want his dad to get scared
all alone at home. Maybe if they qualified for the cup next year, Teddy could have a double
slumber party since his dad wouldn't be able to come home every. Then his dad could have
slumber parties with his team!

The three chatted and lounged at the table for the better part of two hours, nibbling fruit and
drinking their drinks of choice. Predictably, Scorpius ate very little, but Draco attacked the
fruit with gusto. Ah! His sweet tooth. That was why there was more fruit than veg in the
fridge. Hermione ate as well, but she didn't eat much. She had agreed to meet Ginny for a
date debriefing brunch at 11. She was lucky enough to remember the plan before she'd eaten
herself silly.

Finally, she knew she had to drag herself away so that she would have enough time to stop by
her place and change.

"Can I come with you, Mione?" Scorp asked, a practiced look of pleading on his face.

"Scorpius, we don't invite ourselves to other peoples' plans," Draco said as he stood to walk
Hermione to the floo.

Hermione pulled Scorpius up into her arms and place a big kiss on his cheek. "Ginny and I
have to talk about boring adult stuff." Scorpius pouted. "But maybe, if you and your dad feel
up to it, you can come to my place for dinner. We can order something and watch another
movie?"

The tone of her voice went up a notch, questioning and nervous. Her eyes flicked to meet
Draco's and his little smile reassured her that this was a good change they were making, but it
didn't mean every little thing had to change.

"Pizza!" Scorpius shouted. "Can we get pizza? Please? The pizza by your house is so much
better than the nasty stuff Blaise makes." He scrunched up his face to emphasize his disgust
while Hermione fiddled with his hair and gently reminded him that she lived in a flat, which
was different from a house.

"Do not tell Blaise that," Draco said. "Well, don't tell him unless I'm with you. I want to see
his face."

"Take a picture, if you could," Hermione suggested.

"I knew there was a reason they called you brilliant."

Hermione gave him a cheeky wink and then set Scorpius back down with promises to see
him later that night. Scorpius was contented with that, and he grabbed his (no-spill charmed)
cup and ran from the room to discuss with his toys which toppings he should get on his pizza.

Hermione and Draco walked to the floo together. When they reached it, Hermione turned to
Draco, a fluttering anticipation in her stomach. His ears were bright red, and although he
worked to keep his face impassive, she noted how he shifted his weight between his feet.

He was nervous.

She was satisfied to know that it hadn't just been her who had been feeling slightly off-kilter
all morning. She waited for him to say something or do something - to lean in and kiss her!
Instead, they stood facing each other.

Hermione looked at the clock on the wall behind Draco. She really needed to go. She looked
back at Draco. His eyes were searching her face for some permission that Hermione had
thought she'd pretty explicitly given, but she couldn't fault him for feeling the same hesitancy
she had felt just that morning when she woke up alone.

She reached, sliding her hand behind his neck and standing on her toes to let her lips just
barely reach his. He immediately hunched himself over her, and Hermione's heels relaxed
back to the ground as they kissed.

It was a bit heated for a goodbye kiss, but Hermione would be lying if she said she'd been
aiming for anything else. Draco stumbled forward, pressing Hermione against the interior
wall of the floo. If it weren't for Scorpius, Hermione might actually consider just flooing
Draco with her to her place.

Draco pulled away from her. "You should go. You still have to shower."
"I can shower after brunch. A scorgify will do for now," Hermione said, tugging his face back
down to hers. An undetermined number of lip bites and neck kisses later, Draco pulled away
again.

"If you want to change before your brunch, we've got to stop. And, as lovely as I think you
look in my things, I don't suppose it's quite up to snuff for public viewing.

"We still have a few minutes," Hermione said, gently yanking on the collar of his shirt.
"Besides, no one would bat an eye at me being just a few minutes late."

"I'm afraid that if you stay any longer, you might not be just a few minutes late."

Hermione bit her lip, trying to decide if midday sex with Draco was worth the inevitable
interrogation from Ginny that would follow her significantly late appearance at the restaurant
they'd chosen. It definitely was, especially considering that she knew Ginny would
interrogate her regardless of when she showed up. She'd have said as much, too, if she hadn't
noticed how Draco's shoulders were shaking as he suppressed his mirth.

"What?" She demanded, affronted that he was laughing at her when she was just about ready
to jump his bones.

"As lovely as that would be," he said, using the hand he didn't have buried in her hair to rub
her tender bottom lip, "I don't think we could trust Scorp to not get into mischief left to his
own. And besides I was more referring to," he moved his hand and her head followed despite
having straightened his fingers, "the fact that at least two of my rings have gotten quite cozy
with some of your curls.

In the end, Hermione was only twelve minutes late, which she thought was pretty impressive
after the mass extraction process they'd just performed. They had even called Scorpius in to
help untangle the bits of hair that had snagged on the rings. When she was finally free, she
gave both of the boys a peck to the cheek and frantically dashed into the floo. She didn't even
bother thinking about what to wear, she simply grabbed the first casual dress she could find
and threw it on, vaguely recalling that her gown was hung up somewhere in Draco's flat.

She apparated to the apparation point nearest the cafe they'd agreed to meet at, pulling her
hair up as she walked the rest of the way to the location. She checked her appearance in the
reflection of the cafe's windows, ignoring the funny looks the two men were sat at the table
just beyond were giving her.

Presentable.

She pushed through the door and quickly found Ginny at a charmingly rickety round table.
Neville was at the table as well, and Hermione thought she might cry with relief knowing that
she wasn't the only one who was going to be put on blast.

"Hey, Ginny! Nev, what a lovely surprise!"

"Hope you don't mind, Hermione," Neville said, rubbing the back of his neck like he always
did when he was feeling slightly out of place.
Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder as she sat down. "You know that I'm always glad to
see you, Neville."

"Plus, she wants to know about how your night went just as much as I do Nev! And I know
we're all wondering how her evening went after the whole shebang got shut down."

"Wow, you can't even let me order my food before you start in on this?"

"I ordered for you because I'm so nice," Ginny said, waving the order marker in front of her
as if that proved her point.

Neville was shockingly red, and Hermione needed a moment to get her footing before having
her personal life chipped away at.

"What about your night, hmm?" Hermione asked. "How is Vincent?"

Ginny groaned, slumping in her seat. "I wish I knew. He's handsome and kind
and completely oblivious. I swear, I slipped my hands down to his arse while we were
dancing, and he asked me if I was tired! He thought my hands had slid down because my
arms were tired. Have you seen my biceps?"

Despite Hermione and Neville assuring her that they had, in fact, seen her biceps, she pushed
her sleeve up and flexed.

"Ginny, please, we're in public!" Neville said, batting at her arm and looking around the
dining area nervously.

"Ugh, I just can't believe he didn't get it. I'm not really known to be subtle, you know?"

"We know," Hermione and Neville responded in unison.

Ginny acted as if she hadn't heard them. "But then, as we were leaving he asked if we could
hang out again, and I'm like what? Because I thought he just wasn't into me and now I don't
know. Like, what do I do? Should I just ask him if he wants to have sex with me when I meet
him for dinner on Wednesday?"

Neville cringed at Ginny's brash way of speaking despite having been exposed to it for years.
"You're meeting him for dinner?" He asked.

Ginny nodded. "At some fancy French place in Diagon I'd never go to otherwise, but he
seemed like he really wanted to go so…" she shrugged, letting the sentence trail off.

"Not Le Chaudron de la Mer?" Hermione said, leaning forward suddenly. "They're supposed
to have the best seafood in all of London, wizarding and muggle!"

"Ugh, could you stop salivating for a minute, and help me with my problem?"

"Ginny," Neville said, leaning his elbows on the table. "It sounds to me that you have a date
with Crabbe."
"I do not!" Ginny said. Ginny did not date. Not since she was in school. She was too busy to
bother getting attached to someone! She couldn't afford to be distracted by thoughts when she
was on the pitch.

"Well," Hermione said, leaning back so a server could place their meals down. "Ah, thank
you! What I was saying, Ginny, is maybe instead of asking if he wants to have sex with you,
you should figure out if he's oblivious, uninterested, or not one for casual relationships."

"I mean, to be fair, asking him if he wanted to, well, you know. That would probably get her
an answer to all those questions."

Hermione held her hands up in mock surrender. "Fair enough."

"Ugh, forget it! Why are we even talking about my lack of sex when we could be talking
about someone else's late-night exploits?"

Hermione nearly choked on the piece of egg she'd just swallowed and had to chug half of her
glass of water before she was fully convinced that she'd gotten the food down the right pipe.
When she looked up though, she saw that Ginny's attention was directed not at her, but at
Neville. Neville was red again, the poor sod, but despite his comfortable flush, he had a little
self-satisfied smile on his face.

"You little tart!" Hermione said, a big grin on her face as she slapped his arm.

Neville's smile got bigger. He shrugged and bit and ate a bit of his food even though he knew
the girls wouldn't drop it, and he really wanted to talk about it. It was so nice to have his
friends to speak to - his long-term friends, not just his professor friends. They just understood
one another differently.

When he'd eaten a bit and look back up, he saw the girls chewing their food without taking
their eyes from him. He chuckled and made a show of sipping his tea and clearing his throat
before looking at both of them in turn. "What do you want to know."

Forks clattered to plates and the planets aligned. Well, Ginny was pretty sure they must have
for such a serendipitous moment to have arrived. Neville had only spoken about his
relationships to her twice before and then only sparingly. She never pushed, obviously, but
she couldn't help but be elated to share in this little bit of friendly gossip.

"Was it kinky?" Ginny asked.

"Was it good?" Hermione added.

"Are you gonna do it again?" Ginny finished, a curious glint in her eyes.

Neville took a deep breath in and then said, "No, yes, and yes."

Ginny squealed and Hermione covered her mouth with one hand while miming clutching
pearls with the other.
Neville directed his gaze down again, embarrassed to have said it out loud, but also so
grateful for his absolutely over-the-top friends. Quietly, he said, "I really like him, I think. I
mean, we don't know each other that well. Only, when we talk about plants we somehow start
talking about philosophy. And stupid stuff, too! Like the pranks my kids at school pull. And
he's got the most beautiful, green eyes."

"He's got the most beautiful, green eyes!" Ginny gently mocked even as she reached over the
table to squeeze Neville's hand. "You sound like me back when I had a crush on Harry."

"Oh please, no one could ever be as bad as that," Neville said. And like a penny falling flat
after spinning on its side, the conversation fell from the dizzying topic of romance to
reminiscent memories of Hogwarts. Hermione couldn't believe some of the stuff that Ginny
and Neville, along with Luna, had gotten up to. And she thought her motley little crew had
been bad!

As they were all saying their goodbyes with hugs and kisses and promises to be vigilant (a
habit from war), Neville winked at Hermione as he waved a final goodbye, Ginny already
strutting off to bigger and less prepared places. It was only then that she realized that Ginny
had been so busy grilling Neville and then discussing her Hogwarts exploits, that she'd totally
forgotten about Hermione's sort of date, the following sexcapade, and the tentative and new
understanding between them. Neville had steered the conversation beautifully for a boy who
used to be too afraid to speak at times.

No wonder he was the head of Gryffindor house. What a hero.

 Chapter 22
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

The pizza arrived before the boys, but only just. Before he’d managed to get both his shoes
off, Scorpius had followed his nose to the pepperoni pizza and was pulling a slice from the
box. Draco huffed in exasperation as he kneeled down and pulled the remaining shoe from
his son’s foot. He might have reminded his son of his manners if he weren’t so focused on
getting his son a plate and a napkin for Salazar’s sake.

Hermione laughed and wiped the oily dribble from Scor’s chin with her own napkin. Draco
moved around her, familiar enough with her flat from their occasional movie gatherings to
find the plates and paper towels. Rather than settle at the table, the three of them moved to
the living room to sit on the floor at the coffee table. The first time Hermione had ushered
them there, plates in hand, Draco was sure she must have been insane. Now, he couldn’t
argue that there was something cozy about watching a film while your shoulders bumped
those of your loved ones as you all gorged yourself on greasy take aways.

The movie was another animated one. Scorpius seemed to love these ones more than the ones
featuring actual people. Within the first thirty minutes, Draco was sneering and muttering
under his breath.

“Hercules was not the child of Hera.”

“Shh,” Hermione chided.

“I know for a fact muggles have perfectly adequate reference materials of Grecian legends,”
Draco said, disappointed in the muggle mangling of his favorite, gory legends. “You’ve
shown me your own copies of the books. What’re their excuses for the inaccuracies?”

“Perhaps that this is meant to be a movie for children and the details of Hercules’s conception
and later life might be a bit difficult for them to digest,” Hermione whispered in response.
She loved this movie, Scorpius appeared to be enjoying it, and she wouldn’t let Draco sap the
joy from it.

“That didn’t stop my mother from reading them to me!”

Hermione gave him a look that seemed to ask him just how adjusted of a child he actually
was, and she was satisfied to see him lean back unto the couch and keep quiet as they
watched the rest of the movie. Hermione sang along and Scorpius tried to sing, too, and he
did as well as he could for someone who had never seen the movie or heard the songs.

Being more interested in memorizing every detail about the moment than giving himself over
to the film, he was the only one to notice the tapping sound coming from the kitchen. He
grabbed the empty plates, downing the crust Scorpius had let in three bites and carrying the
plates to the kitchen. At the window above the sink was a brown owl eagerly tapping, as if it
knew it carried a significant offer.

Leaving the plates in the sink, Draco opened the window and let the owl in, taking the letter
from it before rummaging around the cabinets and canisters to find where Hermione kept her
owl treats. The owl found itself a perch to settle at and crunch happily on her treats.

Draco recognized the Hogwarts official seal and decided that Hermione might allow for this
distraction. She was always soft for that old witch McGonagall, and she had seemed, at the
very least, intrigued when Longbottom had mentioned the possibility of a job at Hogwarts.

Rather than say anything, he slid the letter in front of her on the table, sneaking a kiss to her
temple as she looked down to assess whatever it was he’d placed before her.
Her heartbeat quickened as she saw the seal and remembered the possibility that Neville had
mentioned just the night before. She hadn’t been expecting a letter so soon. To be frank, she
hadn’t allowed herself to expect a letter at all.

Hermione had many dreams for her future over the years; auror, activist, Minister of Magic,
botanist. For a time, she’d even nurtured the idea of becoming Hogwarts’ potions professor.
It had been the subject she’d found most challenging and, by extension, most rewarding.
After the war, though, she had found her solace in the same place she often had: the library.
Hogwarts’ library was naturally her favorite, but the muggle establishments were nearly just
as comforting an embrace as Hogwarts’ library had been.

At the recommendation of one of the librarians she’d become friendly with, she’d looked
into the career herself. A casual look at universities had turned into campus tours, and
campus tours turned into a degree program in Ireland. To her absolute shock, she’d found
herself interested in the archival sciences more than anything with cataloging as her second
love. She’d brought all that knowledge back to the Ministry archives and breathed some life
into the dusty stacks there. She’d put a system in place strong enough to leave - to move on to
a new position.

But she was getting ahead of herself. She hadn’t even read the letter. Hadn’t even opened it.
She glanced to Draco who was watching her with curiosity. Scorpius was still entertained by
the movie, so Hermione quickly broke the seal.

She silently read the letter, her breath coming out in puffs. When she was done, she passed
the letter to Draco, watching his face as he read what she had and looking for some sort of
confirmation that what she’d read was really there.

‘Dear Ms. Granger,

Although I had intended to make this offer nearer to the school year’s start, it has come to my
attention that Professor Longbottom has seen fit to share my plans-’

“Are you going to take her up on it then?” Draco asked.

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know! It feels so irresponsible to just up and leave my current
job just as soon as another comes knocking.”
“It’s not just any job, Hermione. It’s Hogwarts. I’d lay a good stack of galleons down on that
being damn near a dream job.” Hermione slapped his arm, and they both cast a quick glance
to ensure themselves that Scorpius wasn’t listening. “Anyways, there’s no shame in leaving
one job for another. I’m ninety percent certain that’s how careers are supposed to work.”

“It’s not just that. I mean, would I be able to meet up with everyone as easily as I do now?”

“Private floos in all staff quarters. Although, you’d probably have to work weekends, so
who’s to say?”

“I’d have to live at the school.”

“Not really, although it’s probably cheaper than getting your own place. Plus, no commute.”

“It’d certainly be a pay cut.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” Draco said, sipping his drink before continuing. “So, when will you
be meeting with her then?”

“Shhh!” The adults turned to look at Scorpius who had his finger pressed against his lips. His
brows were drawn together in annoyance. Adults were so rude sometimes. Hercules was
becoming strong, and he couldn’t even hear how he was becoming strong because they were
talking instead of watching! He knew ‘Mione didn’t normally do it, so he was pretty sure it
must be his dad’s fault. He was what Nana called Blaise: a bad influence.

Draco held his hands up in mock surrender. He loved and hated how much his son reminded
him of himself at times. Hermione gave Scorpius a sheepish smile, and he smiled back to
show he wasn’t upset with her before returning his attention to the film.

In a silent understanding, Hermione and Draco moved to the kitchen, and Hermione
immediately set herself the task of cleaning the dishes in the hope that it would provide some
vague distraction.

“So then?” Draco asked.

“So?” Hermione responded, lathering the soap perhaps a pinch too enthusiastically.

“When are you going to go see the old bat?”

“Draco! McGonagall is an amazing witch, not to mention our professor! Show

some respect.”

“Well she’s not our bloody professor anymore, now is she?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence.

‘If you are not otherwise engaged, I would invite you to tea one week from today. Though I
would like to pitch to you the position myself, I would equally enjoy seeing you regardless of
your interest in the position.’
Hermione broke the silence. “A week from now.”

“Hmm?”

“For tea. She wants to meet in a week.”

“Oh.”

Silence again. Hermione was starting to get peeked. Draco had been pestering her about it not
moments ago and now he’s silent.

“Do you think I should go?” Hermione asked once she’d started drying the plates.

“I think if you want to go, you should. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Hermione forced herself to take deep, steadying breaths. What was the worst that could
happen? No really, what? It was an excellent, if not overly simplified point. She nodded
because she couldn’t really think of anything worth saying. He understood, of course. They
were getting quite good at the non-verbal communication thing.

She leaned over for a kiss, ignoring Draco’s stupid, self-satisfied smirk. Their descent into
each other was interrupted by a shrill shriek from the living room. “Meg!”

Hermione pulled back and hurried to comfort Scorpius and assure him that Meg would be
just fine. Draco was following close on her heal, curious as to how this film could possibly
manipulate Megara’s outcome into anything better than horrific.

Returning to Hogwarts as an adult gave Hermione a feeling eerily similar to the time her
parents had dragged her to her old primary school when she was fifteen for an awkward
reunion that was more for the enjoyment of PTA parents than it was for the former students.
Regardless of who the stale cookies and fruit punch were meant for, there was no denying the
effect it had; the feeling of nostalgia combined with distaste for how childish you used to be
and fear of growing up.

She hadn’t expected the feeling of home that Hogwarts offered to be so similarly marred by
those same feelings, but the past year had held a great deal of experiences she hadn’t
expected. Every year since she was eleven had, really. Still, the nostalgia was great enough to
carry her through the discomfort, and she found the walk from Neville’s private floo to the
Headmistress’s office was over before she’d fully realized she’d been on her way there in the
first place.

Before she could knock or make an attempt at one of the old passwords Dumbledore had
used, the stairway up to the office creaked open and permitted her entrance. The door at the
top of the stairs was already open, but Hermione still felt the need to announce her presence,
so she knocked on the door jamb.

When McGonagall looked up at her with an expectant smile, Hermione felt a wave of love
and guilt hit her all at once. She had spent so long feeling abandoned by her mother that she
hadn’t stopped to stay in contact with the other woman who had raised her. She rushed into
the room and threw her arms around McGonagall.

“Oh… Well…” McGonagall muttered as if she was affronted by the forwardness, but she was
quick to return the hug. “It is good to see you, Miss Granger.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Headmistress.”

The two separated and moved to sit at the small table the headmistress had piled high with
tea cakes, biscuits, and sandwiches. The two made their drinks while idly trading small talk.

Finally, McGonagall offered Hermione a thick file folder. Hermione flipped it open
immediately, interested to see what made it so hefty. The first few pages included a
description of the job and its benefits.

McGonagall cleared her throat awkwardly as Hermione looked over the included room and
board that accompanied all staff positions. “You are, of course, welcome to live off the
grounds should you accept the position. We simply ask that you maintain a small
quarters here to allow you to floo into or in case you need to stay overnight to chaperon
school events.” Hermione nodded, continuing to look over the papers. McGonagall took a
small sip of tea before continuing. “Of course, friends and family are welcome. Should you
find yourself with a family of your own while employed here, larger accommodations are
available, although all of our current staff with children prefer to keep quarters off campus.”

Hermione’s eyes stopped roaming the paper in front of her. She couldn’t believe it, but…
Certainly not! Only, it did sort of seem like the headmistress was fishing for information.
Without raising her gaze, she let her eyes slide toward the edge of McGonagall’s desk where
she knew the headmistress kept all of her news and scrap piled until she felt it was a
significant enough pile to have sent to the owlery for nesting. Sure enough, the tell-tale pink
of Witch Weekly was scattered throughout the pile; issues of witch undoubtedly contained
photos of Hermione, Draco, and Scorpius.

It was good to know she’d held on to her guilty pleasures, though Hermione was sure she
would say that it was thanks to her, Harry, and Ron that she had to check for any students in
the tragically immature and inaccurate publication.

Hermione raised her gaze to meet McGonagall’s. “I hadn’t realized any of the staff had
children. I suppose it’s naive of me, but I never really thought of any of you having lives
outside the school.”

“At the moment, only two of our staffers have young children, although many have some that
are fully grown.” Before Hermione could ask who, McGonagall continued. “Speaking of
children, I am surprised that you do not have the young Mr. Malfoy with you. I have heard
from Professor Longbottom that the boy is rather taken with you.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m rather taken with him, too, but I imagine Draco would like to see his
son’s face when he first gets to see this place. I would, too for that matter.” She imagined his
face when he got to see the enchanted ceiling of the great hall and the moving staircases and
the library. Would it affect him the way it had her?
 Minerva could clearly see Hermione’s affection for the Malfoys etched into every corner and
crevice of her face. “Well, if you accept the position, perhaps the three of you might come by
to set up your office space in the library. I’m sure you could give him a short tour between
class bells.”

Hermione smiled and nodded, but she didn’t feel the need to say anything more. It was a
lovely idea, and she felt pretty certain Draco would be just as eager to watch Scorpius take it
all in as she was. She was here to consider a job offer, not to talk about her boyfriend and his
son.

She looked back at the folder and assessed the rest of the papers. It was a challenge in the
form of spreadsheets and old budgets and books that belonged in museums, not as study
material. She felt a spike of adrenaline. A challenge in the place she’d called home for seven
years.

“I would need at least a month to pack up my things, break my lease, and give a substantial
notice to my supervisor.”

McGonagall smiled. “That should be no problem. That will leave you around a month to get
things sorted in your office and quarters.”

Hermione was already planning all the changes she would need to implement before the
school year. Her fear of the unknown - of leaving the job she’d loved and become
comfortable in - was replaced with the excitement she imagined people felt before sky
diving.

A new boyfriend, a new job, a new plan, a new future. That was reason enough to take the
plunge for her.

Chapter End Notes

I love the idea of gossipy McGonagall

 Chapter 23
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Scorpius had been quiet - very quiet - all morning.

As soon as Hermione had accepted the position, she had gotten to work getting her other
affairs in order. Draco had been happy to help her shrink, package, and move all of her
belongings to her staff quarters. It hadn’t taken long with a few illegally placed featherlight
charms.

They were moving the last few items today and bringing Scorpius with them for his first look
at Hogwarts. He had been practically bouncing off the walls when they had told him where
they would be going that weekend. When he’d walked into Hermione’s apartment, though, he
very quickly went silent.

They had strategically left three boxes, one for each of them to carry. According to
Hermione, it wasn’t home until you’d lugged something over the threshold, so the two larger
boxes were without charms. The little box of mugs that Hermione had set aside so that
Scorpius could feel included was under featherlight and cushioning charms. He took the box
without a word, his mouth shut tight in a frown.

Hermione glanced nervously at Draco as they stepped into the floo. Draco had placed his
hands on top of Scorpius's shoulders, worried, as Hermione was, that he might not be feeling
well. They flooed into Hermione’s private quarters with Hermione flooing as soon as she felt
certain they would have moved from the fireplace.

When she flooed into her new flat (she refused to call it dorm), Scorpius was sitting with his
arms crossed on the sofa they’d moved the week before. The box he’d carried was set on the
floor near him. Draco turned to look at her as the flood sounded with a helpless and
somewhat distressed expression. Scorpius was normally very vocal when he felt unwell or
was grumpy, and the silent act was jarring to them both.

“Well,” Hermione said, forcing a cheer into her voice that she did not feel, “should we have a
nosh before we go look around Hogwarts, Scor?”

Scorpius shrugged, but Hermione knew that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning.
The small kitchenette had been stocked with muggle devices and electric sockets for her
convenience. She pulled bags of chicken nuggets and the specific brand of crinkle-cut fries
that Scorpius loved. Draco brought the box of mugs and set each of theirs carefully on the
counter before sighing and rubbing his eyes roughly.

Hermione finished setting the oven to preheat and then moved to lean into his side while she
filled the kettle. “Has he ever gone this quiet before?”
Draco shook his head. “No. I don’t understand what’s happened. He was so excited this
morning, he brushed his teeth before I even asked him to.”

Hermione shrugged, glancing over her shoulder to check on Scorpius. Draco told her he was
going to put the last of the items away where she’d told him she’d like them. When the tea
was done, she cast a stasis charm on Draco’s before carrying the other two mugs to the coffee
table and sitting down beside Scorpius.

“What do you think, Scor? It’s nice, isn’t it?”

She meant that. It wasn’t as light or spacious as her last place, but it was cozy and smelled
like centuries of history. Besides, she already had a pretty good feeling that she’d be spending
more time at Draco’s place than here. They had only been dating for a little more than a
month, but they had started falling into one another for so long that it didn’t feel so haphazard
when they slotted their lives together. They were with each other almost every night, mostly
and Draco’s place because that’s where Scor’s room and most of his things were.

She nudged Scorpius mug closer to the edge of the table so it’d be easier to reach.

He shoved it, spilling its contents and breaking off a chunk of the mug. Hermione was
shocked. She didn’t even process the hot tea spilling from the table and dripping onto her leg,
even as she pushed Scorpius into the couch to shield him from the scalding liquid.

“Scorpius!” She whispered despite her want to shout. “That was very dangerous.”

Scorpius wriggled from her grasp. “ I don’t care!” he shouted before running through the first
door he saw - the door to the hallways of Hogwarts. She ran after him, but he was gone by
the time she got to the door.

“Draco!” Hermione screamed as she looked down each end of the hall.

Draco was at her side almost immediately, looking down the hallway. He didn’t bother to ask
where Scorpius was or why she’d let him leave. He simply instructed her to go one way
while she went the other.

Draco simply pointed her towards one way before he took off in the other direction. She
didn’t even hesitate before slamming her portrait hole and shooting off in her designated
direction.

It was forty-five minutes later when Hermione found Scorpius sitting with two hufflepuffs,
three slytherin, and a ravenclaw. She supposed they were a part of the summer safety
initiative that Harry had pushed for to ensure kids who didn’t feel safe going home had
another option.

Hermione practically collapsed in the courtyard when she saw him, grabbing him from
between the young students who had been watching over him. She pulled him into her arms
and sighed. She wanted to shout at him, she was so scared, but her relief was crushing her
vocal cords. She was almost certain the only sound she was capable of at that moment was a
sob anyway. She slipped her wand out of her pocket just long enough to conjure a patronus
that Draco could follow back to them.

Scorpius buried his face in her shirt. One of the boys from the group - a hufflepuff - knelt
beside them and hesitantly patted Scorpius back. When he had the boy’s attention, the puff
motioned him closer and whispered in his ear, reminding him of what they’d discussed.

Scorpius looked at the older boy and nodded, pulling himself away from Hermione to give
the boy a hug and wave his chubby hand at the rest of his new friends. They waved back at
him as they gathered their things to leave and one of the slytherins even blew him a kiss. He
wiped his face with his sleeve leaving a trail of snot behind and then grabbed Hermione’s
hand.

“I’m sorry I was mean and I - I pushed my tea over.” He was staring at the ground like he
wanted to swallow him whole.

“I accept your apology, Scorpius,” Hermione said, giving his hand a comforting squeeze, “but
can you tell me why you were so upset?”

Scorpius started rocking back and forth on his feet trying to decide if he should take his new
friend’s advice and tell Mione why he was so upset. Finally, he took his hand and pushed it
through his hair, the same way Draco tended to, and gave a little sigh.

He still wasn’t looking at her face - he was afraid she would look disappointed and mad and
hate him - as he said, “I don’t want you to live here.”

Hermione bent down further, trying to meet his gaze. “Why not, Scor?”

He huffed and stopped one foot. He couldn’t help it. He was still upset. “Daddy says Hog-
orts,” he stumbled over the long word, “is a special place for students and teachers and no
one else can come in, and I don’t want you to live here because you’re my mum and I don’t
want to never see you anymore!”

Hermione tried to swallow around the lump in her throat that had just formed. Trying her best
to put aside his calling her mum for another time, she gently lifted his face so he was looking
at her. “Scorpius, you and I will still see each other all the time. You’re here now aren’t you?
So clearly you can come here. You just can’t wander around the school, but you can always
floo into my flat as long as your dad says it’s okay. Okay?”

Scorpius sniffled. He guessed that made sense. He was here, after all. He nodded slowly as if
he was afraid she’d take it back. Draco ran up to them, panting with worry, and dropped to
his knees beside them.

“Scorpius, you can’t run off like that! You scared me very badly.” Draco’s stern look was
undercut by the blatant relief he felt. He was sweating from the amount he’d been running
around the past half hour or so, and he felt exhaustion suddenly crush him worse than what
he experienced after any quidditch game.
“I know,” he said tearfully. “I’m sorry. Am I in trouble?”

As his fears about losing Mione abated, Scorpius began to realize that what he did was very
not good. His dad always said to stay with a trusted adult or close enough for a trusted adult
to keep an eye on him, and he didn’t do that. He knew before he asked that he was in trouble.

Confirming his suspicions, his father nodded. “You are, Scorpius. That was very naughty. Do
you know why it was naughty?”

“Because I wasn’t nice and didn’t stay with one of you and that’s not safe.”

“That’s right. You’ve apologized and that’s very good, but actions have consequences. What
do you think is a fair consequence for your bad behavior?”

Draco waited for his son to give up his dessert, as he always did when he truly felt guilty over
his actions. A whole week without dessert, Scorpius had decided, would atone for running
off. It was longer than what he would have usually decided to go without, but this was a
pretty serious no-no, and Draco wasn’t inclined to shorten the self-imposed sentence.

The three walked back to Hermione’s room without really speaking. When they made it
inside, Hermione announced that she was going to make some more tea since theirs had
surely gone off by now. Scorpius stared down at the mess he’d made of his own tea and
began to tear up again. Draco vanished the liquid and any stain that was in the making, but
Scorpius lip continued to quiver.

When Draco went to grab pieces of the mug, Scorpius stopped him by holding up his little
hand and waving haphazardly. “Repairo!” he shouted before looking to his dad with
expectation. He added a little “Please,” when Draco didn’t move to comply with his request.

Draco did as requested only because the mug had broken into large shards that were easy to
fit back together. When the mug settled itself back on the table, Scorpius squealed and picked
it up. He ran his finger between the two cows where the largest fissure had been. He
motioned for Draco to bend down to his level and then held the mug close to his face.

He pointed at the little calf and said very seriously, “This one is me.”

Draco nodded even though he strongly disliked his son comparing himself to a cow. Then
Scorpius pointed to the mother cow and said happily, “And the mummy one is Mione.”

Draco nodded again, slowly this time. That was why Scorpius had insisted on fixing the mug.
Draco glanced over his shoulder to look at Hermione who was throwing the slightly thawed
chicken and fries into the oven. He wasn’t totally blindsided by this - not as he had been
when he’d first realized how much his son adored his sometimes babysitter.

Hermione and Draco had only struck up their romantic relationship recently, but Scorpius had
picked up the change quickly, even if he didn’t know exactly what it meant. Mione was
always sleeping over except for the times when they would sleepover at her flat. That was
about as much as he understood about the standard family unit - two parents and some
children lived in one space and if there was a mum, she did all the things that Hermione did
for him.

No, Draco wasn’t surprised. In fact, he knew, as did most of their friends, family, passing
acquaintances, and virtual strangers if Witch Weekly had its way. Still, he had thought he’d
had a little bit more time. Just a tad. Hermione had been very clear at the beginning of their
relationship that even if they split, she would expect him to be civil about her staying in
Scorpius’s life. That was easy to agree to, and he knew that was a commitment she wouldn’t
turn her back on.

But being Scorpius’s friend and being his mother were two very different roles and despite
Draco’s lackluster relationship experience, he was pretty sure maternity was a big ask at the
one month marker.

Unfortunately, it was a conversation that needed to happen sooner rather than later because
Scorpius fully intended on keeping her and Draco did, too. He turned back to Scorpius who
was looking at him like he was weird which was fair considering that Draco had just been
staring over his shoulder for what was probably a longer amount of time than he’d felt it was.

“I’ll just go check on our tea, then,” Draco said awkwardly, as if he had to explain himself.

Scorpius shrugged and moved to distract himself with the bag of toys that Draco had dropped
off a day prior.

Draco went to the kitchen and leaned against a counter and watched as a distracted Hermione
rearranged her pantry with a frown. When she finally noticed him - halfway through lining up
the soups so that their labels all faced out - she smiled, weary as she was. It was only 11 AM
and Draco was sure the both of them were both severely drained from Scorpius - uh -
moment, for a lack of better words.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Hermione said softly. Draco quirked an eyebrow curiously and
nodded. She sighed, and Draco started to get a bit nervous. “Scorpius said something today,
that I think you and I should probably discuss.”

“What would that be?” Now he was really concerned. Was this about why Scor had been
acting so off?

Another sigh. “He said that he thought if I moved here then I wouldn’t be his mum.”

Silence.

Draco felt a burning shame forming in his chest. His son thought Hermione was abandoning
him. He didn’t understand that all this changed was where they’d be staying some night, and
Draco hadn’t even thought it necessary to explain it to him.

“He understands now that he can come to see me whenever you give him permission. We
talked about it. But Draco-”
Draco pulled Hermione into an unexpected hug. “Thank you. I didn’t realize that he would
think-”

“How could you? You can’t think of everything.” She rubbed his back comfortingly.

“I just never wanted him to feel abandoned or unwanted, and by not anticipating this - this
response, I’ve caused that.”

“You have not! Draco, Scorpius is wanted by so many people! Your mum, you, me, not to
mention all my friends and yours - he is wanted and I’m sure he knows that. He’s just a child,
and usually kids don’t see the big picture.”

Draco pulled back, and Hermione noticed his eyes were red. Her thumb ran soothing lines up
his neck to the base of his skull and then back down again. “I should’ve done better. I should
have insisted we talked about it when we started dating - when him calling you mum and all
that stuff would be appropriate. When you’d be comfortable with it. We knew we’d have to
talk about it eventually.”

Hermione felt like her whole body was locking up, tingling and detached from her brain.
“Planned on keeping me around then, did you?” She asked, trying to lighten the mood and
calm her breathing.

He looked into her eyes, all smoldering seriousness. “I didn’t enter into a relationship with
you expecting for it to fall apart. It’s not my modus operandi. It’s all or bust for me.”

“Me too,” Hermione choked out. “All or bust, I mean. And that’s not just with you, but with
Scor, too. You know that, right?”

Draco nodded without hesitation. “I do.”

“So… does it bother you?”

“That you’re all in?” He huffed a little laugh. “No.”

“I mean that, well… that Scorpius wants to call me Mum. Does that bother you?”

Draco took a moment to really think about that question. “It makes me scared - a bit jealous
that I wasn’t enough of a parent to him-”

“Draco, don’t say that! You’re-”

“But overall, it makes me happy that he trusts you. He doesn’t do that easily. He trusts you
and he loves you and I love you. So I’m happy that he wants you to be his mum, but I also
don’t want you to feel like you have to be his mum.”

“I don’t-“

“I’d like you to, of course, but I want you to be comfortable with it. And everything has been
happening very fast. With us, I mean.” Draco was speaking faster and his hand twitched with
the need to run it through his hair.
 “Draco stop!” Hermione almost shouted. She looked over towards the living room and smiled
at the Scorpius to ensure him that everything was all right. “We have been moving fast, that’s
true. But I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again - I will always be there for Scorp. You
and I could fall apart - and I don’t think we will! - but we could, and I would still be there for
him. If you don’t mind me being his mum then yes, I want to be his mum. I do. It’s not like
we have to get married.”

“To be fair, I would like to get married at some point. Just not immediately.”

Hermione smirked, her brain and body stuttering back to life at his admission. “Let the dust
settle with the press before we kick it up again?”

“Something like that.” He smiled and the dimple that she loved appeared in his cheek.
“Although, not too long. What was it Skeeter wrote? ‘Never Too Old for Love?’ Seems we’re
on our death bed, so we might as well get on with it.”

They shared what Ginny would have described as an ‘absolutely gooey’ smile. It was fast and
terrifying and they were all in.

“So how do we let him know, then? That you’re his mum and that he’s allowed to believe
that?”

Hermione took a deep breath and stood up as straight as she could. “Tell him that his Mum
wants to know if he wants ketchup or ranch with his nuggets.”

Draco pulled her into him to kiss her soundly before he did as he was told. As he walked out
of the kitchen, Hermione called after him. “Oh! And Draco? I love you too.” She made a joke
of very obviously checking him out. “Even if you are getting kinda old.”

He gave her a playful sneer. “Never too old, then?”

“Never too old."

Chapter End Notes

And that was the last chapter. I only ever intended for this story to be about 5 chapters
long, but your guys’ support encouraged me to push myself into longer-form content.
However, I’m ready to move on to other projects that I’ve had simmering on the back
burner due to this story. Thanks for all the support on this project!
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