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Hermione looked up at the Ferris wheel and wondered exactly how she had ended up here. The lights around each little gondola were twinkling magically, reminding her of the school fête her parents had forced her to attend right before she left Australia.

The whimsical music coming from an enchanted gramophone was loud, but didn’t drown out the joyful shrieks or the Sonorus-ed voice of St Mungo’s Head Healer, Theodore Nott.

“Thank you all for coming, thank you!” he boomed, looking oddly handsome in a lime green cloak over fuchsia robes. “We are thrilled to be raising money for the extension to the hospital so we can continue our experimental programs. Don’t be shy with your Galleons tonight, folks – we’ve got big plans, and two of our generous donors have promised to match whatever we raise tonight!”

“Wow,” Hermione said, “I wonder who they are?”

“Harry’s one of them,” Ginny laughed. “Which means Theo himself is also one of them, but I don’t know if that’s what he meant. Very handy having a husband who everyone believes would donate vast amounts of money to a hospital so you can throw your own fortune at it and not have anyone turn their nose up at it.”

“Why would anyone turn their nose up at him?”

“I guess people forget he was never a Death Eater,” Ginny shrugged, taking a bite of the hot dog she’d bought from Seamus’ food caravan. Hermione had snorted at the name, ‘Bangers’.

“May as well just stick wi’ me reputation, aye,” he’d grinned when she’d asked. “Blows things up, plus the mash is implied. What’s the point of being Irish if you’re not going to let people stereotype you, right?”

She and Ginny had both let out a laugh, paying him for their purchases and waving to Lee and George, who were lurking nearby eating what she assumed was the same thing Ginny had, though theirs were twice as big. She’d opted for fairy floss, having arrived on an international Portkey not long before, and still feeling a bit queasy.

Her eyes moved across to where she saw Padma, dressed in an icy blue ballgown – she watched as she knelt down, greeting children who were clearly admiring how beautiful she looked. With a quick wave and smile, she let their friend know they’d arrived – she signalled ‘five minutes’ and went back to agreeing wholeheartedly with a young girl that her Cinderella doll was very pretty despite having had half of its blonde hair shorn off by what Hermione guessed was either scissors or a sneaky Diffindo with mummy or daddy’s wand.

Beside her, a man wearing a crown and what was obviously meant to be a Prince Charming costume was crouched, talking quietly to another little girl who looked nervous. Hermione watched, noticing without meaning to that the man’s shoulders were doing rather distracting things underneath his grey and blue jacket.

“Hello, finally!” Harry said with a huff, dragging Theo behind him. He threw his arms around her, but all too quickly was pulling away. “Sorry – we have to go. We promised Pansy and Ron we’d go and make sure everything was sorted for tomorrow.”

“You promised,” Theo corrected, dipping his chin to Hermione before blowing a kiss to Ginny. “See you tomorrow – single and ready to mingle?”

Ginny snorted. “At my brother’s wedding? I highly doubt there will be any mingling to be done, Theo.”

“Well, you never know! Should be a delightful afternoon!” he shouted over his shoulder as Harry dragged him to the Apparition point.

She looked over again and saw that both Padma and the prince had disappeared; she glanced back up to the Ferris wheel and smiled. The squeals of happiness from across the field were plentiful, and the sugar high was kicking in.

“Ooh, who’s that?” Hermione said, nudging Ginny with her elbow. Talking to George and Lee was a tall man in a green baseball cap. His white t-shirt and jeans looked somewhat out of place with all the magical folk, but it made Hermione feel better about not being the only one in ‘Muggle denims’, as Molly continued to call them no matter how many times she corrected her.

If Hermione noticed the shape of his bum in the jeans, that was her business – she looked over to where Ginny was smirking. 

“I forgot that he was going to be here – Padma did say but then she also said he might be stuck on shift.”

As she was about to open her mouth and ask again who it was, the man turned.

Her first thought was to say, ‘oh, fuck off’, but her shocked inhale pulled a chunk of fairy floss into her mouth. Suddenly she was coughing, tears streaming as the sugar burned and she had the microsecond flash of her life before her eyes (which, depressingly, consisted of a thought showing everyone from the wedding looking at her empty chair and shrugging, because she hadn’t been back in England in over seven years).

When she finally composed herself, accepting a cup of water Ginny had conjured for her, she swallowed furiously and then coughed a couple more times to make sure her throat was clear.

“On shift?!” she hissed. “What do you mean?”

“Hermione, where have you been? Surely you knew that Malfoy’s a healer now – apparently he’s really good.”

A voice came over Hermione’s shoulder – she turned to see Blaise Zabini standing there. “Perhaps you should try asking him to demonstrate his bedside manner on you, Granger?”

Hermione found herself staring – it had been a long time since she’d seen her former classmate – he still had that very cool, casual look but was somehow exuding a different type of energy than she remembered. 

“Hello, Blaise,” she said, coughing lightly to rid her throat of the final sugary remnants of the cursed floss. “How are you?” 

He gave a tiny bow, turning his dark eyes to Ginny. “Splendid, thank you. Mrs-” 

“You know it’s just Ginny again now. Didn’t Padma tell you? The divorce came through last week.” 

Hermione tried not to make a face; she still couldn’t quite believe that Ginny had ever married Oliver Wood, let alone then divorcing him because he’d been having an affair with Viktor Krum.

“Ah, congratulations. Should we expect to see your name popping up in the society pages of the Prophet any time soon?” His dark eyes moved between them both – Ginny raised her eyebrows and looked slyly at Hermione.

“Not me, I’ll be back to the skies and staying well clear of Rita’s quill,” she answered. “Hermione here? Maybe, but not for long. She’s got to be in Scotland before the end of August.”

“Yes,” Hermione interjected, not altogether thrilled at having her news spread around with a Slytherin alumnus before she’d told the rest of their friends. “I’ve accepted a teaching post. It’s only temporary – a year, at most.” She brushed a stray curl away from her face, as though that might steady the faint sense that the ground beneath her had shifted the moment she’d stepped off the Portkey. “Professor McGonagall was… persuasive.”

“Oh, very interesting.” Blaise gave her a sly look – he went to say something else but then his expression brightened as he looked over Hermione’s shoulder. She turned and saw Padma making her way towards them. “Hello, my angel.”

“Hi love,” she said, tilting her face up to receive a kiss before stepping past Blaise and dragging Hermione into a crushing hug. Her lilac skirt and robes were well-tailored, most likely the doing of her boyfriend whose clothes had always been beautifully made. His all-grey ensemble glowed slightly under the various enchanted lights, the fabric moving lightly as he adjusted to let Padma slip under his arm.

“Granger here’s going to be Professor Granger,” Blaise drawled, “isn’t that thrilling?”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Padma said, eyes alight. “Which subject?”

“Defence,” Hermione replied, trying to sound breezy and calm (and landing somewhere closer to… well, defensive, probably). “Apparently they’ve decided a Muggleborn witch with a tendency to over-prepare is exactly what the next generation requires.” She hesitated, then added, “I’ll be working alongside Madam Pomfrey on some supplementary curriculum around magical injuries and first response. ‘Cross-disciplinary’, they called it.”

“Oh, Poppy is just wonderful, you’ll love working with her. Draco does, don’t you?” Padma was waving to – Gods, Malfoy – and he was coming over.

“Hello you l- Granger?!”

“Malfoy.”

Hermione couldn’t help but stare; the blonde, pointy, ‘sneering is my passion’ prat she remembered had become… tall and handsome.

Worse still, he was – smiling?

“How are you?” she managed, determined not to sound like someone who had nearly died of spun sugar inhalation just minutes earlier. Up close, he looked… different. 

The sharpness she remembered was still there, but softened somehow – there were faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, and Hermione found herself absurdly distracted by the fact that she could see his ears and little spots on his cheeks turning pink.

The baseball cap was the icing on an extremely unexpected cake.

“Fine, thank you,” he said, eyes darting to everyone but her as he replied. “I didn’t- sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s been what…? Eight-”

“Eight years,” she agreed, noticing that Padma and Ginny were now having a silent conversation with their eyes. “Been in-”

“Australia?”

She stopped. How did he know that?

“Sorry, that sounds incredibly creepy. It’s just that Padma mentioned it.” He looked like he wanted to Apparate away, biting his lip and frowning before taking a large breath and turning to Blaise as if she wasn't even there. “Now tell me, did Nott and Potter get away on time or do I need to worry about the Boy Whose Husband is a Workaholic coming to berate me again?”

Hermione looked at Ginny and then Padma, making a gesture with her head to say ‘talk to me IMMEDIATELY about what in the name of Godric is happening’. The two witches moved towards her, Padma putting her back slightly to Malfoy but not enough that it seemed rude.

Padma leaned in just enough that only Hermione and Ginny could hear her. “He didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she murmured, and Hermione had to wonder why he’d care – unless it was because he’d suddenly remembered he’d never managed to include her in the list of people he apologised to after he was acquitted for being a minor during the war (a fact Hermione thought was one of the few correct decisions the Ministry had made in 1998).

She didn’t want an apology from him – she’d spent enough time teaching teenagers at this point to realise that while his insults might have been deeply personal at the time, they were no different to the things most other children said in the heat of adolescence, and later regretted.

‘Miss Granger’ – she’d become a teacher at a Muggle high school in Sydney after potentially forging a transcript that would allow her to become qualified – had spent enough time in the staffroom with her colleagues to know Malfoy might have been a git, but he was a run of the mill one.

“And he’s been on shift since six this morning, so if he looks like he’s about to levitate himself into the lake, that’s mostly exhaustion.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward where the wizards were arguing quietly about something Hermione couldn’t hear. “Also, for what it’s worth, he’s genuinely very good at what he does. The children adore him – we all do, if I’m honest.”

“Harry doesn’t adore him,” Ginny snorted.

“Rubbish!” Padma laughed, and then she leaned in even closer. “I have it on good authority that Harry goes out of his way to visit the ward when ‘looking for Theo’ if he’s not in his office, even though we all know if Theo’s out he’s lurking around the boardroom arguing with someone or other about resources.”

“Well, yes – and they’ve taken to teaming up against us when we go to the Leaky trivia,” Ginny added. “Bit rude, really.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione interrupted with a hiss, “but when were any of you going to tell me that Harry and Malfoy were best friends? Trivia? I-”

“Darling,” purred Blaise, giving Hermione a nod – “my apologies, Granger,” – his hand slipped to the small of Padma’s back as he pulled her close. “Doc says you two are due back?”

Malfoy was already retreating, hands in pockets; he looked back briefly and gave a quick wave which Ginny returned by way of a middle finger and a grin. He shook his head, before looking at Hermione with stormy grey eyes crinkled in a tight smile and then turning to continue walking away.

“Oh, Salazar’s pants, already? Alright, give me a kiss, you two,” she said, gripping the forearms of her two friends, tilting her head one way and then the other so Hermione and Ginny could plant a quick ‘mwah!’ on each cheek. “And you, I suppose,” she said, turning to kiss Blaise with her hands against his chest. “Do come over if you fancy a dance!”

Hermione watched as she disappeared, walking quickly to catch up with Malfoy who then threw his head back and shook it – she assumed because of whatever she’d said when she got level with him – which then made Padma laugh, clutching his arm so casually it made Hermione blink.

They made their way into the crowd of enchanted lanterns and children clutching sugar apples, and she stood there with a faint sense that she’d missed more than the last eight years – she’d missed an entire lifetime of people she thought she knew becoming totally different.

The boy she remembered would have stayed long enough to make some snarky comment about her career prospects, or at the very least her hair – not that she wanted him to, but still. This man had simply… waved.

Blaise smiled a slow, infuriating smile at Hermione and then bowed. “I should make sure I get one, if her tiny subjects will allow it – she’s much more popular than the Prince.” He gave Ginny a nod. “I shall see you both tomorrow. Good evening, ladies.”

“Good night.” “Ta-ta, Blaise-y!”

Hermione turned slowly back to Ginny, narrowing her eyes. “Alright,” she said. “Start explaining.”

Ginny continued to stare after Blaise for a moment before turning back, folding her arms and giving Hermione a long, knowing look – she glanced around as if to see if anyone else was nearby, but they were quite alone at the fringe of the activities. George and Lee were nowhere to be seen, and Seamus was talking to a group of younger children who were seemingly trying to decide what to order.

“Well,” Ginny said finally, “for a start, he’s been a healer for nearly five years now. Paediatrics, mostly – the kids’ ward.”

“I know what paediatrics means, Gin.”

“Of course you do, smarty pants. I didn’t, but now I know more than I want to, really. They’re all married to their bloody jobs.”

“OK, right – so he’s a healer for children. Very noble.”

“You’re judging, but he’s very good at it, by all accounts.” She paused, watching Hermione carefully as if for some sort of reaction. “And before you ask, I didn’t tell you because you were living on the other side of the world and we were trying not to bombard you with wizarding gossip.”

“This is not just wizarding – bloody – gossip,” Hermione said, frowning. “This is a reinvention of life as I know it! I thought-”

“You thought that Ron being engaged to Pansy and Harry being gay was the limit?”

Hermione looked down, eyes on her feet, before looking back at her friend; Ginny didn’t seem cross, just amused at how stupid it must have sounded, admitting she had no idea what had been going on with all of her supposed friends. “I guess I didn’t really ask,” she said, shrugging. “I was-”

“Of course you were busy, darling. We all were.”

“So you’re telling me that Malfoy is… a friend?”

Ginny tilted her head, considering the question and then shrugging noncommittally. “He’s not the same little ferret we went to school with, that’s for sure. He did the whole ‘Draco Malfoy apology tour’ after the trials, same as the rest of them, and then he went off and did healer training.”

“Right, and so Theo’s the Head Healer – surprised Malfoy lost out to him.”

Ginny laughed, raising one eyebrow. “Oh, he didn’t – St Mungo’s snapped him up the moment he finished, but he took longer to get there because he insisted on doing a Muggle qualification at the same time, and wouldn’t let working interfere with his studies and – the rest. He’s very committed to making things better.”

Hermione frowned, tucking one hand under her arm and pushing her hair behind her ear with the other. “That’s a rather generous interpretation of a boy who spent seven years doing… well, the exact opposite.” She paused, noticing the way Ginny’s expression shifted into something close to ‘smug’. “What do you mean, ‘the rest’?”

“Well, his betrothal contract didn’t get revoked like Pansy’s did, because his parents were still able to enforce it, even with old Lucius in Azkaban.”

“Oh, he’s married?”

“Widowed.”

Hermione couldn’t help but gasp at this – whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. “Who was he-”

“Nevaaaahhh!” came a little voice from behind them; Ginny’s face split into a grin as she looked past Hermione, and she leaned down to sweep up a child with curly blonde hair.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” she said, tickling the little boy who squealed and kicked his legs, “not to call me that?”

“Dadda said it,” came the reply through giggles.

“Hi Daph,” Ginny said pleasantly as Hermione turned towards where the little boy had appeared from.

Daphne Greengrass, a girl Hermione barely knew aside from the fact that she was one of the Slytherins from their year, was standing there looking as if she’d had quite enough. She held a little coat in one hand, a puff of fairy floss in the other, and over her arm was a bag that Hermione guessed was full of the sorts of things mothers carried for their children.

“Hello, Ginny – and Hermione Granger, as I live and breathe!” Daphne’s smile was almost genuine, though there was a hint of something else; not unkindness, just… something.

“Hi Daphne,” Hermione replied, inclining her head. “How are you?” She didn’t know why she kept enquiring after people’s health, when she barely knew them and had no expectations that they cared about hers.

“I’m well, thank you for asking. And you?”

“Good, thank you.”

An awkward moment of silence threatened to take hold, but then the little boy squealed again as Ginny dug her fingers into his ribs. Hermione watched the little boy wriggle in Ginny’s arms, his curls flying about as he laughed. He looked about four, perhaps five, and didn’t seem a bit perturbed by the idea of climbing into Ginny’s arms.

She glanced back at Daphne, who looked unsurprised by the chaos, and wondered vaguely how many children people had managed to produce while she’d been away.

“So, who is this little sweetheart?” she asked – his blue eyes were a lighter shade of Daphne's, and he had a cheeky little grin that belied a mischievous spirit, just like the witch holding him. Hermione looked around but couldn’t see – ah, no, there he was. Miles someone – Bletchley? – the Keeper from the Slytherin team.

“This is Scorpius,” said Daphne, looking at the child with her head tilted in amusement. “He is full of sweets, even though Dadda told him he couldn’t have any more.” She put her hand onto her stomach, smiling softly, and Hermione realised there was a bump there.

Miles walked over, putting his arm around Daphne and giving Ginny a not quite friendly look, which made Hermione bristle. “Weasley.”

“Bletchley. You remember-”

“Granger. Yes, could hardly forget.”

Daphne looked up, frowning at her husband – Hermione gestured to her belly and tried to continue the conversation, if only so it would end sooner.

“So Scorpius is going to be a big brother? How exciting!”

Ginny made a sound, like she wanted to interject, and at the same time Scorpius turned upside down in her arms and she almost dropped him. 

Daphne shook her head with a little laugh, a dainty one – it reminded Hermione of Glinda the Good Witch in her huge pink dress. “Oh, he’s not my son,” she corrected. “No, he’s my nephew.”

“Oh, I see,” Hermione said, not really seeing because she was only vaguely aware of Daphne’s sister.

“Draco didn’t want him to miss out, but he can’t very well entertain all the other children and look after this one-” she stopped, holding her arms out, as Ginny huffed; Scorpius was now wrestling furiously to get out of her grip and back to his fairy floss. “Of course, he did his first accidental magic tonight,” she held up the bright blue puff of sugar, “and now I am going to get the telling of a lifetime.”

Hermione blinked, almost as if she needed to pause the conversation like a film because surely Daphne hadn’t just… she looked back to where the little boy had wriggled triumphantly free of Ginny’s grasp.

The hair, the light blue eyes – his pointy little chin suddenly looked very familiar.

So this explained at least part of it – how he’d become someone people spoke about with respect, working with sick children. Her eyes flicked back to the little boy, but he seemed perfectly healthy aside from the blue tinge from his ill-gotten sweet.

In a heartbeat, it became incredibly clear that the pieces of the puzzle that was Draco Malfoy were not shaped the way she expected.

Miles gave a dismissive sniff, clearly losing interest in the conversation. He’d always been a rather unpleasant person – though if she was honest with herself, Hermione would have to admit she’d simply thought that was a Slytherin thing, rather than his individual personality.

“I wanna get down,” insisted Scorpius.

“Come on, Daph,” Miles said, jerking his head toward the lantern-lit rides. “Isn’t the little menace about ready for bed? Hopefully Malfoy’s due to finish soon.”

The ‘menace’, who seemed not particularly menacing aside from his sticky hands and face, didn’t seem to hear this; Daphne rolled her eyes with what Hermione took to be practiced patience, adjusting the bag on her arm. 

“Yes, yes – heaven forbid Draco has to wrangle his own son and twenty other children at the same time.” She glanced back at Hermione and Ginny with an apologetic smile. “You might as well walk with us if you want to see the rest of it?”

They walked all together, Miles off to the side of Daphne as if he didn’t want to be associated with their little troupe; Scorpius, now with the stick of the fairy floss in his hand, was walking between her and Ginny quite happily, eyes cast upward as he took a bite.

They followed Daphne through the lanterns and groups of happy little families, past a stall selling enchanted bubbles and a cluster of parents watching the Ferris wheel turn slowly against the night sky.

“Can you hold dis?” 

Hermione looked down to where Scorpius was holding the mangled blob of sugar, and took it without a word. At the speed of light – or perhaps the standard speed of a child his age, he took off towards Padma and the-

“Oh, fuck off,” Hermione whispered, turning and seeing Ginny grinning at her. “Are you kidding? He’s the Prince?”

“I’m going to go and wait by the Apparition point,” Miles grunted at Daphne; Hermione gave him the same tight-lipped smile she’d always given to parents who thought her role as their child’s teacher was to be a substitute for any sort of effort from them to get their teenager to be a decent person.

“What did you expect?” Ginny replied, watching Bletchley walk away with disdain. “He’s Padma’s colleague.”

“Does that mean-” Hermione cast a glance at Daphne, who was walking faster to try and catch up with her nephew, “-that her sister is…”

“Draco’s wife? Yeah, she was. She’s been gone since he was about two, I think.”

“How old is he?”

“Four.”

Ahead of them, Scorpius had already reached the small cluster of children gathered around Padma, who was kneeling in her shimmering blue gown and accepting what looked suspiciously like a half-eaten apple as a sort of offering.

The prince – Malfoy – straightened as the boy barreled into him, instinctively catching him before he could collide with the hem of Padma’s skirts – he lifted him and held him out to avoid being given a very sticky hug.

“Dadda! I saw Neva and-”

Hermione was still holding the sticky mess, and suddenly had the urge to hide it behind her back as she watched Malfoy looking at the hands and face of his child. He set him down, pulling his wand from somewhere, and the smears of blue disappeared. The frown he received looked alarmingly familiar, and nothing like the smile he was giving in return. 

“I think,” he said with a falsely serious tone, “Aunty Daph told you not to sprint across the entire fête by yourself?”

“I didn’t! I was wif… her! And Neva!” His little hand was raised and pointing right at Hermione, who stopped and tried not to look like she’d been – well, caught taking candy from a baby.

“And have you eaten all of the sugar, or only most of it?”

“Only most,” Scorpius replied solemnly, with a little bob of his head; Padma snorted, and Malfoy sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who had clearly had this exact conversation before.

Ginny nudged her, and she looked – ‘see, he’s cute!’ she mouthed, pointing at the little boy but then also maybe at his father.

“Pfft, shut up,” she said back, frowning. She looked back as Malfoy exclaimed something happily, pulling his little boy into a hug and spinning him – which did nothing at all to Hermione’s chest, or any other part of her.

“So proud of you!” she heard him say. “Mumma would have been, too.” She looked away, not wanting to see his face when he spoke about his wife – something about the idea of him losing her made Hermione feel oddly guilty, or something.

“Alright, well – I might have to go,” Daphne said, looking over and then stepping towards where Ginny and Hermione were standing somewhat awkwardly – Padma was still surrounded by children, though she’d given them a quick wave as she moved from talking to one little boy to another. “I’d say bedtime negotiations are about to begin – would you two be alright waiting in case Draco has to stay? I’m sure he won’t, but he’s…”

“It’s fine, Daph, you go.” Ginny waited until she was out of earshot, having given Hermione a quick nod of thanks and Ginny a pat on her forearm. “Good luck with that,” she muttered, staring daggers at the back of Miles Bletchley’s head.

“So you’re ‘not friends’ with them, too?” Hermione asked, perhaps a bit too snidely.

“Would it bother you if I was?” Ginny asked, giving her an unusually stiff look. “Daphne is a good – a great – person, actually. Husband’s a huge prick, always has been, but Daph’s been through a lot. I know what it’s like to lose a sibling, Mi. She’s… it’s been tough.”

Hermione swallowed, suddenly feeling guilty. “You just said that you weren’t really friends with Malfoy, so-”

“Well, you don’t seem to be terribly warm to the idea.”

“So you are friends with him? I mean, his child calls you-”

“He’s a little kid with no mum, Hermione. What would you do? Ignore him when he tries to sit on your lap? Malfoy – Draco – is actually great. We all like him; you would too, if you knew him.”

“Well-”

A deep voice interrupted whatever Hermione was about to say. “I hear you’ve commandeered someone’s fairy floss, Granger. Never took you for the type.”

Hermione, still holding the mangled blue puff of sugar, lifted it slightly. “Ah, yes… hello again,” she said, smiling weakly. “I do appear to have pilfered your son’s confectionery, but I promise it isn’t what it looks like.”

“Ginevra,” he started, and finally Hermione understood what Scorpius had been calling her, “do you always let rogue witches steal from children right under your nose?”

“I do, actually, Doc,” Ginny said with a smirk, “when they keep calling me that.”

“Well, Red, that’s what you get for insisting on cheating on Monday.”

“I did not – Hermione, tell him! I know the twelve uses for dragon’s blood, don’t I!”

Malfoy snorted. “You knew eleven,” he corrected, folding his arms. “You insisted the twelfth was ‘something to do with that old bloke’ and then Potter corrected you too loudly, and that was it.”

“Well, just because some of us are abnormally interested in dragons,” Ginny shot back; Hermione was only half listening, more interested in the exceptional work being done by the seams on the jacket Malfoy was wearing (specifically in the sleeve area).

Padma laughed from behind him, her little crowd dwindling. “Please don’t start this again – especially in front of the children.”

Malfoy lifted a hand in surrender, then glanced back toward Hermione as if remembering she existed. His eyes flicked briefly to the fairy floss she was still holding, then up to her face. “Did he at least offer to share it,” he asked, grey eyes fixed on hers, “before you wrestled it from him?”

Hermione held out the sticky blue evidence. “In my defence, he asked me to hold it; I feel I should make it clear that I had no intention of becoming the permanent owner of- oh, bloody hell!” She grimaced as she had to stick out her other hand to stop it sliding off the stick, which resulted in her having the whole mess resting on her palm.

“Oh dear,” Malfoy chuckled, rolling his eyes and holding out both hands as Scorpius talked loudly up at Ginny, not at all interested in the now slightly flattened puff of sugar. “A very suspicious story – here, just-”

“Will I just Vanish it?”

“I don’t recommend you do, no,” Malfoy replied with a knowing look. “Honestly, just…” he gave her an insistent look and pushed his hands – large, manicured, extremely nice-looking hands – toward her. With some reluctance, she let it drop from her cupped palms onto his, her fingers brushing against his as she shook her hands slightly. It felt very odd to be touching him, and even more so because he was holding so still.

“Dadda, Neva tickled me,” the boy declared with great seriousness, interrupting the ceremonial passing of the floss. “And she,” he pointed at Hermione, “took my fairy floss.” His blue eyes sparkled as he grinned at her, cheeky and sweet all at once.

“I did, did I?” she asked, crouching down. “You asked me to, if I recall.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, patting Hermione’s cheek. “I like your eyes. My mumma had blue eyes, like me, and Neva has blue, and Aunty has blue, and Dadda has-”

“Alright,” Malfoy said, scooping up his little boy. “Surely that’s enough talking Miss Granger’s ear off.”

Scorpius leaned over his shoulder to look at her. “Ranger?”

Hermione wiped the last traces of sugar from her fingers on her own conjured handkerchief and smiled up at him. “Hermione.”

“Ah-mi-nee?” he repeated carefully, watching for a response with a look that was completely Malfoy but without the narrowed eyes and sneer.

“Close enough,” she laughed.

“Scorpius,” Malfoy said quietly, adjusting the boy on his hip. “This is Hermione Granger – she went to school with Aunty Daph and I.”

“And Pottah? Teo?”

“Yes, Theo and Potter as well.”

Hermione saw the amused twitch Malfoy’s mouth made before he took a breath and glanced toward the Ferris wheel. She was sure there was no need for him to look quite so… princely, with the light catching the edge of the crown on his head. 

“Dadda, can we go on dat?” asked the little boy, pointing upwards. “The ferret wheel?”

“Ferris wheel, love.”

Ginny snorted. “Not if you’re on it.”

“Shut up, Red.”

“Nevaaaahhh,” begged the little blonde, “you take me on the ferret wheel?”

“Sure thing, little ferret.”

“I not a ferret,” came the reply, a distinct hint of his father hearing about it in the tone. “I a Scorp’n.”

“You are, aren’t you,” Ginny replied. “It’s your dad who’s the ferret.”

“Dadda is a dragon, Neva, don’t be so silly-face!”

“I’ll give you silly face in a minute!” she laughed, turning him upside down once again. His squeals were joyous – Hermione caught Malfoy grinning at the two of them.

“Can we perhaps not turn him upside down?”

“I make no promises,” Ginny replied cheerfully, righting Scorpius with a final tickle.

“Dadda,” the boy insisted, wriggling back toward him, “the ferret wheel, pease.”

Hermione followed Malfoy’s line of sight, over his shoulder to where he was looking at Padma, who had finally managed to disperse the last of her small admirers. She caught his eye immediately and raised an eyebrow.

“Go on,” she called, with the air of someone who had often made such decisions for him. “We’ve got a lull.”

“I’m meant to be-”

“You’ve been here for hours, and worked all day,” she cut in, holding up a hand to dismiss him. “Take ten minutes before you fall asleep standing up, and terrify the children.”

Ginny smirked. “He does look a bit peaky, doesn’t he?”

“I am not peaky,” Malfoy muttered, sounding just like his old self, but looking nothing like him at all; in his father’s arms, Scorpius beamed at the group as if he’d won something.

“Well,” Ginny said, dusting her hands together. “Looks like we’re going on the ferret wheel, then.”

Hermione turned her head, quick as lightning. “We…?”

Ginny looped an arm through hers. “Don’t act like you haven’t been looking at it all night, Ah-Mi-Nee.”

Hermione opened her mouth to deny this, yet somehow didn’t manage to say anything except, “oh, fine.”

“Excellent,” Ginny said, already looking at the queue like she had no intention of waiting her turn. “If we’re lucky, Scorp, Dadda might even stop pretending not to enjoy himself.”

“I enjoy myself,” Malfoy said with a quirk of his brow. “I just don’t do it loudly like some other people we know. I happen to think it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Your modesty?” Ginny shot back, tipping her head back with laughter.

“My restraint,” he replied with a smug look. Hermione didn’t say anything, falling into step between where Scorpius bounced merrily on his father’s hip and Ginny’s long arm (which was still dragging her along like she expected an escape attempt). 

The Ferris wheel turned slowly, each gondola glowing softly against the darkening sky. Scorpius leaned into Malfoy’s shoulder, already pointing upward again, narrating something in great detail that Hermione couldn’t quite follow but that had something to do with colours and perhaps someone’s favourite something.

“-and dat one is blue, but not my blue, an’ Neva said-”

“What did I say?” Ginny interjected, leaning forward.

“Not tellin’ you,” he giggled.

They reached the edge of the queue; Ginny was most displeased for a moment but then with an ‘ah!’, she steered them neatly past a family of four and toward the attendant.

Hermione noticed the way she brightened at the sight of the blonde prince, who’d Vanished his crown at some point in the journey without her noticing.

“Evening, Healer Malfoy,” said the woman, with a smile. “Taking a break?”

“So I’m told,” he replied. “Between Healer Patil and this one,” he jostled his son, giving him a fond look, “it was a unanimous vote.” 

Scorpius waved enthusiastically. “We goin’ on the ferret wheel!”

The witch laughed, already opening the gate. “This one’s just come down.” Ginny shot Hermione a look that said see? and strolled through without hesitation.

“Neva, I come wif you?”

“Well-”

“You come with me, Scorp, and let the ladies go together.”

Hermione found it hard, but not impossible, to keep her face normal at being called a ‘lady’ by this particular man. He looked at her for a second, like he might say something else, and then didn’t.

One of the gondolas lowered with a soft creak, the door swinging open as the previous occupants climbed out, chattering; once it was empty, the witch at the gate moved it on so the next pair could get out.

“Right,” Ginny said, clapping her hands once. “In we go, Hermione.”

A furious noise came from the little Malfoy. “I want Neva, Dadda.” He looked at Ginny, disappointed pout making his little lip turn down. “You said you take me.”

Ginny looked at Hermione and had the grace to look vaguely sorry. “Alright, if Dadda says I can, then I can.”

“I’ll watch from here,” Malfoy replied, “but no sticking arms out or being silly, otherwise we’ll have to go home. Alright?”

“You not havin’ a turn too?” Scorpius asked, serious frown on his face. “And… Ranger?”

“Of course that stuck,” Hermione muttered, amused.

“It’s easier to say.” 

Hermione nodded at Malfoy, who was watching her with an odd expression; Ginny watched as the people who’d been waiting after them moved past with a look as if to say ‘why are you just milling about?’.

“Come on, then, little ferret,” she said, shooting Hermione a look over her shoulder as she climbed in. “Try not to miss us too much, you two.” The door swung shut behind them with a soft click, and the gondola lifted slowly away.

After a moment, the voice of the little boy floated down, clearly awestruck; Hermione turned back just in time to see the next carriage lowering into place.

“Next two?”

There was a pause – she hadn’t expected to suddenly be forced into a confined space with him, and she felt herself get warm in the face. However, she did love the Ferris wheel, so…?

Malfoy shrugged, as if he too had simply decided he may as well have a little fun. “After you, Granger.”

“I – do you mind going in first?” she asked, swallowing quickly. “It’s not that I’m afraid of heights, but-”

“You like to be close to a door. I get it.” 

He climbed in, sitting down and then reaching his hand toward her; Hermione didn’t let her surprise show as she took it gently and stepped in. They moved almost immediately and she had to throw one foot forward to stop herself falling off the bench seat – from the corner of her eye, she saw the movement of Malfoy’s arm like he was going to grab her. He didn’t, and Hermione was relieved (or something similar to relief, which might have been confusion).

Now securely seated, she ran her hands over her knees as the gondola gave a small, steadying sway – the music rose up from below, a tune she didn’t know but that was pleasant enough regardless. “Sorry.”

“No need,” he replied, looking out through the bars into the night. Hermione nodded, looking anywhere but directly at him for a moment as the ground slid away beneath them. The lights changed, twinkling on the outside of their little cage and the noise of the crowd faded to a distant hum.

From somewhere above, she could just make out Ginny’s laugh, followed by Scorpius’s delighted shout.

The gondola creaked gently as it carried them higher, and Hermione wondered if she should say something. Just as she opened her mouth to ask whether he enjoyed his work, or something equally banal, he spoke.

“Tomorrow should be nice.”

“Yes, I hope so. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone.” This was mostly true. She was aware now that whatever she’d been expecting – who’d sit with whom, and all of that – was likely not even close to the reality. “Will you be attending as yourself, or as-” she waved her hand at him, “-the Prince?”

“Funnily enough, Parks didn’t insist on the crown,” he said, still looking out rather than at her. “The children do, however.” He sniffed, raising his eyebrows. “I’ve been told it makes me look ridiculous, but such is life.”

“By whom?” she asked before she could stop herself – she had an idea of who the culprit might be but wanted to at least fend off the awkwardness for however much longer they were stuck there.

“Potter, Nott, Bletchley – oh, and Wood, though I couldn’t possibly care less what he thinks.”

“Can you believe-” she started, and then remembered who she was talking to. “That is, I was surprised about the fact that Ginny and Oliver were married, let alone-”

“Let alone the fact that the Bulgarian turned out to be someone who would break up a marriage?”

“Well, yes.”

Malfoy looked at her then, and smiled tightly. “It seems you’ve been away a long time, Granger.”

Hermione let out a small breath. “So I’m gathering.” Below them, the lights changed again as the wheel turned, the music drifting up in uneven bursts. “I suppose I’ve missed quite a lot,” she mused.

Ginny had been right – she’d been busy, and avoiding life in England because after the war it was just… too much. And after a while, she’d felt like maybe it didn’t matter if she came back. Everyone was moving on with their lives, including her – but she’d somehow imagined returning wouldn’t feel quite this different.

“Some of it,” he said, with a breath that lifted his shoulders, “you’ll be delighted to have missed.”

Hermione huffed a quiet laugh. “That sounds ominous.”

“It’s mostly Nott creating chaos at the hospital while Potter attempts to enforce order outside it.” 

Hermione noted the lack of venom in his tone when he said Harry’s name. “Hmm… Harry and Theo do have a tendency towards chaos.”

“Potter at least manages to keep Theo from causing too much damage. No one quite understands how he does it, including him, but he remains persistent. Which is delightfully… on brand, I’d say.”

Hermione heard Scorpius’s voice as he squealed happily, now behind them – Malfoy’s head turned towards the sound but then away again, as if forcing himself not to try and listen. “So that, and then the usual pitfalls of working with children.”

“It has its moments,” Hermione said, glancing over at him. “Working with children, I mean. I suppose it’s quite different for me, as mine are about the same age we were when we… met.”

“Mmm, the smaller ones tend to be less concerned with… reputation, shall we say.”

Hermione tried to look at him, but his face was turned towards her and she didn’t want to risk him noticing her studying him. 

“They’re also significantly more honest,” he added. “Which is always interesting.”

Hermione smiled faintly at that, looking out over the lights as they made their way back down towards the ground.

“Is that why you chose it? Paediatrics?”

Malfoy didn’t answer right away, taking another large breath before he spoke. “They’re easier,” he said eventually. “In some respects.”

Hermione glanced over at him, just briefly.

“They don’t expect you to be anything other than what you are,” he continued, “and if they do, they’ll tell you. Loudly, and often repeatedly.”

“Ah, now that does sound familiar,” she said, thinking of a Year Ten who had once informed her that her handwriting was ‘too neat, Miss, seriously’.

“They also tend to forgive more quickly,” he added, head dropping down so he could look at his clasped hands, and Hermione wondered for a moment why that mattered to him. 

Silence fell between them, and she regretted not saying something more quickly to keep the conversation moving. She looked down at her hands and then had a sudden thought.

“What happened to the fairy floss?” she asked, frowning. He glanced up at her, and smirked.

“Planning on stealing it back, are you?”

“I was under the impression I’d been entrusted with it, at the time,” Hermione replied, lifting her chin slightly as if to say ‘how dare you’. “Any suggestion to the contrary is an attack on my good character.”

“Mmm,” Malfoy said, looking amused. “I’ve tucked it away so that when he asks me for it, the evidence that his property was in safe hands remains, even if the evidence itself will be blue sticky liquid in his lunchbox.”

“You could have put it under stasis?”

“I could, but then he will want to eat it.”

“Yes, I suppose all good things must come to an end.”

“Indeed.”

Hermione closed her eyes in horror as she realised how that must have sounded to him. “Malfoy, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean-”

“It’s alright,” he said softly – Hermione held her breath and then he shrugged, smiling just enough to make it feel like it genuinely was. “It’s only fairy floss, Granger.”

“Of course. A mere confectionery conundrum.”

“I’ve survived worse,” he replied. “Mostly from him, these days. But if I’m honest, his worst is still… well, good.”

“He’s a really lovely little boy, Malfoy. Ginny seems very attached.”

“You don’t approve.” His eyes met hers, and his eyebrow lifted.

“Oh, no – that’s not it at all – I'm just surprised to know you’re all so…”

“Friendly?”

“Well, yes, if I’m being honest.”

She heard a puff of laughter. “Wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.”

“As you said, I’ve been away a long time.”

“It’s easier, now,” he said, glancing out over the lights again; the long line of his throat under the pink and blue light was doing absolutely nothing to distract Hermione, especially when he spoke and she saw the muscles working. 

Nothing at all. 

“Working alongside people you respect tends to help you see them differently, I’ve found.” Hermione hummed in agreement, and then wondered if he meant himself or Padma.

“And,” he added, with a small shrug, “time does what it does.”

Hermione let out a quiet breath of surprise. “That’s a rather diplomatic way of putting it.”

“I’ve had practice.”

She saw him smile as he crossed his ankles, pressing his palms to the bench either side of him; hair fell into his eyes, and he lifted his left hand to tuck it back out of the way.

“A crown would come in handy right now,” she joked, and he gave her a sidelong glance.

“It would.”

“Or a baseball cap?” She instantly regretted that, until she saw the same pink flush on his cheeks and ears, and realised he perhaps had taken it as a compliment. Which, she realised, it almost was.

“It’s definitely my chapeau of choice.”

“Ah, oui. C’est un très beau chapeau vert.”

“You learned to speak French?” He looked positively astonished.

“Just enough to keep my head above water in the staff room when the French teacher wouldn’t stop trying to force us all to ‘immerse ourselves’ for the sake of the upcoming exchange student.”

“Was the French teacher actually French?”

“Non,” she laughed.

“Well, that sounds about right.”

Below them, another burst of his child’s laughter carried up – Malfoy’s reaction was less obvious this time, just a tightening of the muscles in his jaw and a quiet exhale. “They’ve probably convinced him he’s in charge of it by now,” he said, running his tongue over his top teeth and shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Hermione replied. “He does seem very… decisive.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“What’s the other?”

“Persistent,” he replied, “in the way only a four-year-old can be.”

“Is he newly four, or…?”

“Yes, last month. July eighteenth.”

“Ah, a Cancerian.” She clicked her tongue and looked at the roof in annoyance at herself. “Sorry, my… ex was a big fan of horoscopes. I couldn’t help but absorb it.”

She could see Malfoy fighting a grin. “Right,” he said, “and what does that tell you about him?”

“Well,” she said with a laugh, “he liked to remind me that as Pisces he had attributes from all of the preceding signs, which made him… a little bit of everything.”

“And you as a Virgo are, what? Hardworking and reliable?” He snorted quietly. “Sounds made up, if you ask me.”

A shocked laugh escaped her. “How do you-”

“I am named after a constellation, Granger. No escaping it.”

“I meant how did you know my birthday?”

He looked across, raising his eyebrows. “I just remember it was in the first few weeks of term. You were… loud,” he said, biting his lip, “about your twelfth birthday.”

Hermione put her head down, shaking it in embarrassment. “I think I was rather loud for a fair chunk of First Year.”

“Just First Year?”

“I was trying to be heard over this dreadful blonde boy. He was full of it.” She looked back at him then, and could see the apprehension in his eyes. “Tweens. In some ways, they’re even worse than teenagers.”

His quiet laugh seemed to be one of relief. “That sounds about right,” he said, glancing past her at the attendant – she turned her head and saw that the witch didn’t seem to be watching them but instead looking up to the top of the ride. Hermione turned back and looked at the man beside her for a second, and then looked back out over the lights.

“They seem to grow out of it after a while.”

“Do they?” he asked, and when he sat back, he looked at her in a way that made her think he wanted to say something else as well, but then he tilted his head. “So – McGonagall has you on the roster for the coming year, hmm? I see her now and then, when I go out for my work with Poppy. She’s not changed much.”

“Yes, she was – persistent, to use your word.”

“Can’t imagine why.” He didn’t look away when he said it, and Hermione felt a heat in her chest that had no right making itself known.

“What work are you doing with Madam Pomfrey? Sorry, I can’t get used to calling her by her first name,” Hermione laughed. “Just like I won’t be calling Professor McGonagall ‘Minerva’ any time soon.”

“Theo calls her ‘Minnie’ whenever he sees her, you could try that?”

“He doesn’t!”

“He does.” His small smile disappeared. “As for the work – well, I know you know we lost Stori. My wife.”

“Ginny said, yes.” The urge to pat his arm or say something comforting overwhelmed her – of course, that was probably her ‘nurturing instinct’ that came from being a Virgo.

At least that was what Ash had always told her, and said it was why she was such a good teacher. 

Wishing wholeheartedly she could somehow remove that unnecessary knowledge from her mind, she tried to focus. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding the way people always did when you offered them a platitude. “My work relates closely to her; it’s why I became interested in healing in the first place.” He didn’t go on, but it didn’t feel like he was finished speaking – just waiting, perhaps, for her to say something back.

“I saw Daphne earlier, she looks… well?” Regret once again found her, as well as a deep confusion as to the whereabouts of the very normal, non-intrusive conversational skills she was normally… well, proficient enough in – even if not particularly good at. “Sorry, I only mean that-”

He made a bitter little noise; Hermione felt like she knew exactly what he meant by it, having made similar sorts of sounds herself over the years. She guessed it was a sort of ‘yes, she is, how nice’ that he didn’t mean nastily, but that still slipped out.

“We’re very lucky to have Daphne, Scorp and I,” he said, and that only made her feel more sure she was right. “She’s been incredible for him, and for me.”

“Is he like her? I mean, he looks a lot like you, but I mistook him for Daphne’s child earlier so I assume-”

“More in temperament than anything else. As you saw, he is much sweeter than I have ever been known to be.” He smiled with that same flat press of his lips, and she gave a little half roll of her eyes, to show she wouldn’t be tricked into saying something to confirm or deny it. “Not that Stori would have liked to be called sweet, mind you. She was a firecracker when she wanted to be.”

His face grew wistful, but he kept smiling, looking at nothing as he spoke and blinking just a little quicker than he had been. “We were betrothed by contract, of course, but somehow we were also happy. Not everyone gets that.”

Hermione nodded, her hands stilling in her lap. “No,” she said quietly, “I’m sure they don’t.” There wasn’t anything else to add, so she let the silence move around them again.

“I think for a long time I was worried about Scorpius not knowing how much she loved him – but I’ve realised that it’s my job to love him for her, and let others love him too. Hence-” he gestured vaguely over his shoulder, “-I know I have to let him go a bit, sometimes. Stori never wanted people to be sad when they could be happy, so… that’s what I’m trying for.”

“He seems… very happy.” No longer able to resist, she put her hand out and rested it on the arm of his jacket. “And I think you might be underestimating yourself a bit.”

“Not likely, Granger,” he said with a sardonic look at her and then away, “but thank you anyway.” He sat up straight and took a long breath. “Now – enough about me. Tell me about Australia. I’ve never been.”

Hermione started to try and think of something to tell. “Well, it’s lovely, the parts I’ve seen – I didn’t travel as much as I expected to after I started working – I teach English, though maybe you knew that? Anyway, the trips I did take were really wonderful. So much wide, open space and the air smells – oh, so fresh. The ocean is like a postcard most days and the people are… friendly. Sometimes a bit too friendly.” She gave him a look of false concern. “The language is… extraordinarily colourful, shall we say.”

“Are you suggesting we don’t know how to swear in England?” he asked, smirking.

“I’m saying we don’t usually use the most offensive words we can think of as punctuation,” she said, shaking her head. “It took some getting used to. Ash was-” she cut herself off, and then kept going – it was fine to talk about her ex, it wasn’t like she and Malfoy were on a date. “He was always very amused by the way I tried to hide how shocked I was by some of the things people said.”

“Was he a teacher too?”

“Mmm, PE. Sports, you know.”

“I do.”

“And a Muggle.” She waited for his reaction, and the one she got was most unexpected, because it was nonexistent.

“I see – how did he take it when you told him?”

“I didn’t.” This time she saw the surprise she’d been anticipating. His blonde eyebrows disappeared behind the hair that was once again hanging over his eyes, and she saw him dig his teeth into his lip as if trying to pretend he hadn’t almost exclaimed ‘what?!’ at her. 

“Right…” he said after a moment; a hand came up to push his hair back again, though it immediately fell forward once more. Hermione rather thought this was an improvement to the slicked look he’d favoured in their early school days. “And he never… asked?” he added, not looking at her this time.

“He marvelled at how quickly I managed to get certain things done, you know, but for the most part I just… didn’t use magic around him. Or my parents – they live out there, it’s why I went. They moved during the war.”

It didn’t feel like the sort of thing to share with someone you barely knew, the truth about how her parents had ended up in Australia. They’d decided to ‘split the difference’, as her dad liked to say, and keep their new first names but returned to being Mr and Mrs Granger when they relocated from Melbourne to Sydney. They’d done it to be closer to Hermione, who’d decided to stay after restoring their memories in 1999, and opened a new practice there, right near the school where she worked.

“When I told him I’d been offered a job in Scotland, he looked at me like this,” she said, making the same caring but resigned face her former boyfriend had made, “and said ‘I don’t want to move to Scotland, babe’ – and I just nodded.”

“And that was it? He didn’t try to – didn’t… try?”

“Well, I sort of asked him, you know… ‘this was never really forever, was it?’ because we both knew it wasn’t. And he agreed – well, he said ‘yeah nah, probably not hey’ and then told me he’d go and stay with his sister until I moved out.”

Malfoy was staring, open-mouthed, and continued to do it for so long that Hermione started laughing uncontrollably. His eyes searched her face, as if he thought perhaps she was having some sort of mental break, and when he realised she wasn’t, he started to laugh as well.

“Granger, you are-”

“Mad? I know,” she cackled. As the laughter died down a little, she shrugged, letting out a breath. “It didn’t hurt because neither of us wanted it to, I suppose?” Malfoy’s response was to just look at her curiously. “I loved him, absolutely, but the fact I could be half of who I am with him and it didn’t… matter? It was never going to be more than something I looked back on.”

Malfoy shook his head, still laughing under his breath and eyes widening, almost as if talking to himself. “Mad doesn’t begin to cover it, I don’t think.”

“I’ve been told,” Hermione said. They both drew a melodic breath, the laughter coming to an end, and Hermione watched as he tilted his chin up to look back out towards the twinkling lights and starry sky.

He turned back to her, and she saw a hint of seriousness in his eyes. “It’s been really lovely to run into you, Hermione.”

She felt her breath hitch at the way her name sounded, spoken softly like that – she looked up as a tiny jolt told her they were coming to a stop.

“Dadda!” Scorpius’s voice rang out as he waved to them from Ginny’s arms, standing outside where their gondola door was about to open with the same creaking sound the old ride had made the entire time. The noise had lowered a little, fewer people walking around than before, but still enough that it seemed louder on the ground than in the air.

“We’re coming,” he called back. Hermione glanced at him, then looked away again as the door clicked open. Stepping out, she took Ginny’s offered hand.

“Enjoy yourselves?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

”Yes, thank you," Hermione answered curtly, and then stopped to look at her friend, realising there was no need to be so snappish. “I mean… yes, I did.”

“What’s come over you, Little Miss Manners?”

“I just… heard myself.”

“Ah! Well,” Ginny snorted, “that’s more than some people can manage.”

“Dadda, it was so hiiiiigh!”

Ginny shifted Scorpius onto her other side as he waved his arms manically, humming a little song – he was like a tiny drunk man, the way he was swaying carelessly. “Honestly, I thought I’d heard it all but I’m fairly sure he used every word he knew plus some he made up.”

“He hasn’t seen it from up there,” Malfoy said, holding his arms out. “Mumma always said,” he grunted as the little boy launched himself out of one set of arms and into his father’s, “the higher you go, the better the view.”

“Mumma in the sky now, so she can see all of us!”

Hermione looked quickly to Malfoy, who shrugged. 

“The Greengrasses had a Muggleborn governess. Daphne… she takes a lot of comfort in the idea of heaven, nowadays.”

“I think many people do,” Hermione replied, clearing her throat. 

“Come on, Mi,” Ginny said briskly, like she’d felt the change in the air that came directly after Hermione choked back her disbelief, “let’s go and say goodbye Princess Padma before we go.”

Padma was exactly where they’d left her, skirts pooled around her as she crouched to speak to one last child; her voice was warm and patient as she listened to what appeared to be a very serious concern about a missing shoe. The parents were looking at her apologetically and she winked at them over the little boy’s head.

“Your Highness,” Ginny said with a fake curtsy as the family waved their thanks and went towards the Apparition point. “We’ve returned your prince.”

Padma looked up, her face lighting instantly as she rose to her feet. “Ah, excellent,” she said, eyes flicking briefly to Malfoy, then to Hermione, before settling on Scorpius. “And what have you been up to, hmm?”

“We did da FERRET WHEEL!” Scorpius announced at top volume, wriggling in Malfoy’s arms to be put down. “Me and Nevaaaahhh!”

“Of course you did,” Padma said – Hermione saw as her dark eyes met the grey ones over the little boy’s shoulder, eyebrows raising. Malfoy grimaced, and Hermione suspected this might have been the menace that Miles Bletchley had been talking about. “And did you behave like a proper gentleman?” Padma asked with a hint of cheekiness.

“Mmmmyesssss,” he said, and Hermione held back a laugh – he looked at Padma with the sort of confidence that indicated perhaps he was more like the blonde man who was grappling with him than she’d been told.

Ginny snorted, crossing her arms, and then flinched at the sound of a slap; Hermione looked over to see that Scorpius had Malfoy’s face squashed between his palms like some sort of miniature mob boss.

“Dadda, I wanna dance wif Padda!” he griped, furrowing his brow. “Peeeeeeease.”

“Love, I think you might be a bit-”

“PEEEEEASE.”

Malfoy looked over to Padma, who was standing with her arms out, shaking her head with a resigned but happy look. “Come here, my little princeling.”

He gave a little cheer, and then started a singsong chant as he wriggled into the waiting arms of the princess. “Dadda, Padda, Dadda, Padda- spin, Padda?” She caught his hands neatly before she became the second victim of his overzealous slaps.

Skirts rustling, Padma turned to move onto the parquet square they’d been using as their royal dancefloor, leaning over to the charmed gramophone and starting something twinkly that Hermione was sure she recognised – Scorpius clung to her, eyes glassy but still joyous.

His chubby finger pointed, and she looked over her shoulder but there was nothing to see but the slowly emptying field. “Ranger, you dance wif Dadda? Dadda! You dance wif her and I dance wif Padda!” 

A hushed chortle came from Ginny’s direction, and Hermione whipped her head around to glare – the picture of innocence, her friend stared up at the sky as if she hadn’t heard a word.

The ‘princeling’ let out an enormous yawn. “And Neva, you dance wif-”

“I don't need to dance, Scorp, I'll just watch.”

“Scorpius Hyperion, you do not instruct a lady to dance. You must ask her.”

Hermione turned to where Malfoy was standing, looking… well, gorgeous. From nowhere, his crown appeared in his hand, and he made as if he’d taken it from his head and bowed, arm crossing his chest before straightening up – his mouth twitched like he was forcing himself not to smile.

“Would you care to dance, Granger?” Before she could answer, he was facing his son and making an almost stern face – he held his hand up and gestured at Padma, who set him down on the ground. 

With the same little bow, though much cuter, he said, “You dance wif me, Padda?” His curls were wild and his grin was even more so, but it made Hermione smile – that funny warmth came up in her chest again. She watched as Malfoy shrank the crown and sat it on his little boy’s head, and then he spun around with an expectant look.

“Go on, Mi,” Ginny murmured under her breath; Hermione shot her another look, which was entirely ignored.

“Well?” Malfoy said, holding out his hand just as he had on the Ferris wheel.

“It would seem rather rude to say no.”

“A gentleman knows it is a lady’s right to choose.”

Hermione looked down at herself, in jeans, and hesitated. “I’m… not really – you know, dressed for it.”

“On the contrary,” Malfoy said, unbuttoning the Prince Charming jacket to reveal the white t-shirt she’d seen him in before, casually tossing it onto the nearby table beside the gramophone, “I think you’re exactly right.”

She realised that he’d moved closer to her and her breath caught as he took her hand; she looked up into his eyes and saw something she hadn’t noticed before – his long, dark blonde eyelashes and the way they curled up just the right amount. His other hand moved to her waist, and then he moved so gracefully she wasn’t even sure she was doing anything but holding onto him.

“Relax, Granger.”

“Sorry, I-”

“You say sorry too much.” He smiled, that same wistful look crossing his brow. “When I should be the one to say it to you.”

“No, really, it’s fine.” Hermione was shaking her head, trying to dismiss the idea of it; Malfoy raised an eyebrow and kept talking.

“I was saving the most important one for last, on my,” he huffed, shaking his head, “apology tour.” He swallowed, and heaved a sigh. “And then I found out you left. It didn’t seem like the type of thing to say in a letter, and then… eight years went by.”

Hermione shrugged awkwardly, unsure what to say, and he laughed awkwardly before going on.

“I’m more sorry than I can say, Hermione, and although I could list every single time I was cruel, and callous, and wrong – because I remember, I do,” he insisted earnestly. “I could apologise individually for each of them if you wanted me to-”

“No, Gods, please don’t-”

He blinked a few times and then continued. “I’d like to… well, I’d like to simply say that I know better now, and I’m doing my best to make sure that I raise someone who will treat the people he meets with the respect and kindness I should have shown you.”

“Oh.” It was hardly the response he must have been hoping for – she tried again. “Thank you, Draco.” 

His smile brightened, not into the full one she’d seen him give Scorpius, but something she’d never directed at her before. They twirled, not speaking, next to Padma for a moment – Hermione noticed how quiet it had gotten.

“Look,” she said to Malfoy, tipping her head towards the little blonde tuft of curls on the shoulder of their friend, the princess. Padma mouthed ‘he’s fine’ and moved off to stand near Ginny, who was absentmindedly eating a handful of something that looked like popcorn.

It became quite obvious in a matter of seconds that this entire moment might well have been a setup, when he spoke again. 

“I suppose it only took twelve years.”

Hermione frowned slightly, looking into his eyes as they sparkled like glittering stone. “For what?”

He hesitated for the smallest moment. “For me to ask you to dance.”

“Twelve – oh. But-”

“If I hadn’t been such an idiot at the time…” He glanced away briefly. “I might have asked you, instead of being a nasty little twat.”

“Well,” Hermione said, unable to keep the blush from her face, “we’re dancing now.”

“Yes, we are,” he said, like that wasn’t quite the same thing. “And then,” he added, “I might have asked if I could kiss you.”

Lips parting in surprise, Hermione watched his face change; it was as if he hadn’t been sure he was going to say it, and had decided at the last second he was brave enough – his eyes had darkened a little, pupils getting bigger.

“That would have been rather rude, though,” he went on, voice slightly lower, “given the circumstances.”

“Which circumstances would those be?”

“You were there with someone else.”

She drew her brows together, pretending to look for someone as they swayed; Malfoy didn’t turn, instead watching her face. She looked back at him, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip as she let her gaze fall to his mouth. “He doesn’t appear to be here.”

This time, it was his breath she heard catch. The featherlight touch of his hand moved from her waist, and she missed the warmth instantly – until she felt the same heat in his fingertips as he lifted her chin. She let her eyes flutter closed, and then the warm mint and sweetness of his mouth was on hers.

Whatever she’d imagined when she’d thought about kissing Draco Malfoy (which, if she was being honest, wasn’t often – but it wasn’t never, either), it had never been this soft, this sweet, this… tender.

“Hermione,” he whispered, lips ghosting over where they’d just met; she slid her hand from where she’d placed it on his shoulder up to the back of his neck. This time, she got the kiss she’d imagined – the heat was undeniable. When she felt his tongue trace the seam of her mouth there was a sound that left her which she did not permit, but couldn’t stop.

He returned with one of his own, and the heat that had been dwelling in the centre of her chest dropped promptly to her belly, and to where she could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against hers.

After… well, it could have been a minute, it could have been five – they pulled their mouths away. To her dismay, Hermione could see she had completely destroyed the tidy styling of his hair with her eager hands; she brushed her fingertips against her lips, feeling them slightly swollen.

“Are you bringing a date tomorrow?” she asked, barely recognising her own voice. She felt almost dizzy from the kiss, and she didn’t want this to be the only one she got.

“Does he count?” Malfoy lifted his chin to where Ginny was standing, looking far too pleased with herself, as Scorpius nestled into a blanket held by Padma.

Hermione looked back, taking in the sight of a handsome, clever man she’d just realised was someone she desperately wanted to get to know. She nodded, smiling broadly, as he dragged a hand through his hair.

“He definitely does.”

She leaned up to kiss him again, softer this time, and felt him smiling against her mouth; they drew back only just enough to look at one another properly. Hermione puffed out a breathless laugh, her hand still touching the nape of his neck.

“What colour is your dress tomorrow?” he asked quietly, looking at her with an intensity that made her weak. She paused, thrown for a moment. 

“Uh – blue?” His eyebrow lifted, and she smirked. “Yes. Technically, it’s periwinkle.”

Something in his expression changed, and he tucked his bottom lip in, closing his eyes for just a moment. “Good,” he said simply, when he reopened them – he looked practically boyish with the way his face was turning pink.

Reality began to set in as a metallic sound travelled across the field – she looked over and saw it was the fencing being pulled down around the Ferris wheel.

“You should take him home,” she said softly, gesturing to the sleeping child who looked more like a cherub. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will.” He started to turn, but then stopped – his hand reached up, and she felt him tuck a curl behind her ear. “It really has been lovely,” he said. With a final nod, he was walking away.

She watched him walk away, and let herself breathe again; she heard his low ‘goodnight’ and ‘thank you’ to her two friends. When he had bundled Scorpius up and made his way to the Apparition point, she looked at them both – they were staring at her, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

Stepping towards them, she crossed her arms and grinned. “Did you know Draco Malfoy is really nice now?”