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Chapter Text

When Kingsley had surprisingly stepped down as Minister, no one else had been willing to assume the role. Overall relations inside the wizarding world had improved since the end of the war, but there were still whispers of a potential resurgence of dark wizards. People throughout the Ministry listened to and spread the layman’s gossip that there was a potential that Voldemort could one day resurrect, or the even more ludicrous rumor that he had managed to spawn a child. Hermione had heard the rumors, but having personally witnessed Voldemort’s final defeat, believed them to be obvious lies created by those wizards who still sided with Voldemort’s ideology. 

Hermione heard that there were difficulties filling the position, so she volunteered herself for the job. She reasoned that she would be a familiar face to the wizarding community, one that they could trust if their irrational fears of Voldemort ever came to fruition. Plus, Hermione was actually eager to become Minister of Magic. While it had never originally been a part of her life plan, she figured she shouldn’t pass up on the opportunity. She had always wanted to continue her mission of improving wizard/muggle relations, so she took the leap and embraced a new position. The job intimidated her a bit, but in her experiences so far, she found that everything worth doing came with its obstacles and hazards.

Within a week of Kingsley’s resignation, Hermione was formally selected as Minister of Magic and she scheduled a press conference to announce her appointment. There were just a few minutes before its start, and Hermione was becoming nervous. She fumbled with her speech notecards, which were becoming increasingly difficult to hold as they absorbed the sweat from her hands. Her nervousness did not mask the anger that was continuing to bubble under her skin as she thought back to the night before.

“You’re going to be fine,” Harry assured her as she paced back in forth in her soon-to-be Minister office. Hermione was glad that Harry was there to ease her concerns before approaching the hoards of reporters waiting in the audience. Even after all their years of friendship and coping with the aftermath of the war, he continued to be a familiar and constant reassuring presence in her life… unlike some people. Last night, she had asked Ron to be with her too, but the conversation hadn’t exactly gone as she expected.

“I just can’t tomorrow,” Ron had lamely said while purposefully avoiding eye contact with her. 

“Just reschedule the delivery,” Hermione rationalized. Ron just shrugged and lowered his head towards the floor. Didn’t he understand how important this was to her? It may have been sudden, but regardless, she was becoming Minister of Magic. It wasn’t exactly some minor event he was bailing on. “I would like to know that my husband is there supporting me.” She paused as Ron continued to refuse meeting her eyes, only causing Hermione to become frustrated.

“It’s not a simple rescheduling. We’ve had this delivery scheduled for ages. These potions took months to brew and if we don’t immediately package them into our new Skiving Snackboxes, they’ll be useless. We’ll have to complete restart, and then they won’t be ready for the pre-Hogwarts school year rush.”

Hermione understood the importance of Ron’s job, too, but couldn’t he make an exception? She felt bad asking him to change his plans last minute, but this had to be a special case. “Can’t George just do this one on his own?” she requested.

Ron’s cheeks now turned bright red and his voice turned somber. “You know how sensitive George is about doing these types of things alone.”

Her stomach panged with guilt.  Obviously she didn’t want to bring back those bad memories for George or any of the Weasleys, really. Maybe she was being a bit irrational, and it was okay if he didn’t go to the --

“If you want me there, just rearrange the press conference. What the big deal, you’re only going to temporarily be Minister.”

-- conference… She paused for a moment as she fully comprehended what he had just said. “Pardon me, but did you just say that this would be temporary?” Hermione made sure to stretch out the final word as the temperature in her body started to rise.

The red in Ron’s face spread from his cheeks to his complete face. “I mean, you’re just Minister until they find someone more permanent right? It’s not like you have much experience with this stuff in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

Ron’s words hit her like bludger coming in at full speed. She closed her eyes and carefully formed her response. “This is no temporary thing! I’m accepting this position so that I can do the job well and achieve something with this – to better all of the wizarding world. I’ve been selected based on who I am, not just the positions I’ve held in the past! But as a side note, has my job as Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement not been enough to prove my competence? ”

Ron’s head snapped up, ready to fully engage in this conversation, which was quickly turning into an argument. “Achieve something? Didn’t we do enough when we, I don’t know, ended You-Know-Who?”

“It’s been nearly twenty years! Say his name!”

“No! What if it’s still taboo, huh? And what if he comes back and you’re the one in charge? Who will be there to protect you?”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide and she raised her eyebrows in disbelief. She watched Ron’s mouth drop, showing immediate regret for his words, but she was so appalled, she burst into anger before he could apologize. “Protect me?” Hermione officially lost it.  “I am not some damsel in distress who needs protecting!” At this point, Hermione was yelling at the top of her lungs. “And I can’t believe you’re buying into these rumors that he could come back. We’re fine!”

Ron slowly walked towards her outstretching his arms in a peaceful manner. “’Mione, you need to lower your voice or you’ll wake up the kids…”

Hermione instantly stopped. She didn’t want the kids to hear her and Ron arguing. It would have been different if this were the first time, but lately, she and Ron had been yelling at each other with increasing frequency. Tomorrow was an important day and she didn’t want to spoil it for her kids, even though it wasn’t exactly starting off great for herself. To stop the bickering, Hermione stormed off into their room with a huff and began throwing a set of clothes and robes into an overnight bag.

Ron followed her and cautiously stood in the doorframe. “’Mione, what are you doing?” he asked apprehensively.  He started to walk towards her, but Hermione held up her hand to keep him away.

“I’m not dealing with this tonight. I’m becoming Minister tomorrow and would like to go into this with a level head. If you need me, I’ll be at Harry and Ginny’s. Please drop the kids off there on your way to work. At least part of the family should be there to watch my speech.” She put a few more belongings into her bag and without another word, she apparated.

“You know Ron wishes he could be here,” Harry claimed, snapping Hermione out of her reverie. 

“Don’t speak for him, Harry.” Hermione retorted. Hermione had to admit that she had hoped that Ron would still have found a way to make it to her speech today. She knew that she hadn’t left on good terms last night, but part of her believed that he would have been able to see through her frustration and realize how much this truly meant to her. Instead, her mind was filled with images of an upset Ron wordlessly dropping off Rose and Hugo at the Potter’s place earlier that morning.

A ministry officer cracked the door to Hermione’s office open and peeped her head in. “We’ll be ready for you in five minutes, Ma’am,” she announced as two red headed children slammed the door fully open and rushed inside.

Rose sprinted around the office, chased by Hugo. The older Weasley child hid behind Harry’s legs and Hugo reached out his arms and tried to tag her. He missed, and Rose let out a squeal as she darted towards her mother, thrusting her arms around Hermione’s legs, panting out of breath. “Safe! I’m safe!”

“Ugh, not fair!” Hugo retorted. “You tripped me on our way out of the elevator! That’s cheating!” Rose stuck out her tongue in jest, clearly dealing with this argument maturely.

Watching her children, Hermione smiled for the first time all day and ruffled the top of Rose’s hair. “Calm down kids,” she said through her laughter. “I’m about to go on. Any advice for your mum?”

“Don’t say anything Dad would say while watching Quidditch,” Rose mindfully suggested.

“Good advice,” Harry chuckled. “Any words from you, Hugo?”

“Nope. Cause my mum's perfect the way she is!”

“Such a suck up,” giggled Hermione. “Well, kiddos,” she said as she picked up Rose with both arms and Harry did the same with Hugo, “Let’s go make history.”

***

Hermione reached the atrium of the Ministry and shuffled through her cards one more time before walking on stage. Her heart beat through her chest as she scanned the crowd with one final glimmer of hope for a glimpse of a red hair. She eventually found one, only to realize that it was Ginny, not Ron. Defeated, she took her first step on stage and was instantly blinded with a bombardment of flashing camera lights. Once at the podium, she took a sip of water to ease her nerves and gain her composure.

“Good morning and thank you for attending this press conference.” Hermione began. “It is with extreme pride and gratitude that I can formally announce that I, Hermione Jean Granger, will serve as our next Minister of Magic.” As she said these words, Hermione’s heart continued to pound but to a completely different rhythm. She was the Minister of Magic. Yes, she was still nervous, and yes, she was still upset that Ron was not there, but this was not the time for these worries. She was here with a mission.

She continued her speech with regained confidence and poise. “I would like to thank Former Minister Shacklebolt for the progress he made in our community after a devastating war. Regardless of which side you fought for, we lost family, friends, and our way of life. He helped us transition to a more accepting and united wizarding world. Just last month, we commemorated the nineteenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort. During this time, we have made progress, and as your Minister, I will make it my mission to continue down this road. We must be a world of acceptance -- acceptance of muggle-borns, acceptance of magical creatures, acceptance of those who once were our enemies and now are fighting the same battles as us. Together, we will shape a stronger world for all of us. Thank you.”

As Hermione finished her speech, she let out a massive sigh of relief that she didn’t even realize she had been holding in to begin with. She held her head high and felt like she had control of the entire room – which was true seeing as which she just became the most important person in the Ministry.

Several reporters’ hands shot up into the air to ask her questions, urgently shaking their hands and calling her name in hopes of gaining her attention. Her entire focus shifted, however, to the sound of a Floo network fireplace crackling aflame just down the hall. She held her breath to see who had just arrived, but instead of seeing her husband’s Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes suit, she saw a neat black suit with a glimpse of white blonde hair.

“Uh…” Hermione murmured as she tried to regain her focus on the crowd. “There will be no questions at this time. Thank you.”

She hiked up the ends of her robes and scurried off the stage to the welcome arms of her children waiting on the edges.

“You were brilliant, Mum!” Hugo declared with Rose beaming by his side.

“Thank you, dearies,” she said down to them, “but I need to talk to Uncle Harry really quickly.” Hermione grabbed the unsuspecting Harry by the wrist and dragged him far away from the stage so that they could speak in private.

“One on one time with the Minister of Magic? What a privilege!” Harry teased.

Hermione was in no mood for jokes at the moment. She took her notecards and smacked Harry on the shoulder with them. “Focus, Harry! I need to talk with you. While I was talking, someone arrived through the Floo network.”

Harry’s face lit up for a moment. “It wasn’t Ron, was it?”

“That’s what I was hoping, too, but actually it was…”

“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about me, would you?” The voice coming from behind Hermione caused chills down her back.   She hadn’t heard that voice in nearly a decade, but would forever be able to recognize it instantly.

Hermione turned around and faced a grown Draco Malfoy. Time had managed to make Malfoy even more refined. He stood with a proud, straight posture, reminiscent of his father. His hair was slicked back into a thin blonde ponytail at his neck. She stared at him intensely, but his eyes were directed at Harry.

“Potter.” He finally said. “If you do not mind, I wish to have a word with the Minister.”

“Go ahead then, Malfoy. Nothing is stopping you from speaking,” Harry responded defensively. Harry’s eyes narrowed as the men glared at each other like they were about to kickoff for a nasty Quidditch match.

Malfoy lowered his voice and spoke curtly, “Alone.”

Neither boy wavered until Hermione intervened. “Harry, it’s fine.” She said pushing him away from Malfoy. “I can handle Malfoy.”

Reluctantly, Harry backed away. “I’ll be back by the stage with Rose and Hugo.” He embraced Hermione and whispered in her ear, “But I’ll still be keeping a close eye.”

Hermione smiled and patted Harry on the back to convey her understanding. Hermione appreciated Harry’s concern, but both he and Ron needed to realize that she could fight her own battles.

As Harry walked away, Malfoy glared at him with his deep grey eyes, filled with decades worth of hatred. Hermione did not understand how even after all this time, these boys turned men could not seem to work out their differences. Of course, it didn’t help that none of them had communicated with Malfoy in several years. In fact, Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had seem him in public or read about him in the Daily Prophet. That was why she had been so particularly alarmed upon seeing him after her speech. When Harry was sufficiently far enough away, Malfoy began to speak. “Minister, there is an urgent matter I would like to talk with you about.”

Hermione crossed her arms but was intrigued enough to ask for details. “So urgent it had to be my first matter of business as Minister of Magic? This must be very important then, Mr. Malfoy.”

“You’ve known me for years, Minister. Please call me Draco.”

“I’d prefer if we stick to formalities for this, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Very well then,” Malfoy replied. He glanced to his left and his right, and then pulled Hermione even farther away from the crowd. Malfoy let out a sigh and his eyes became softer, more compassionate. He lowered his voice to a soft whisper. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, there are rumors floating around that the Dark Lord may have produced an heir.”

Hermione lit up with alert, “You don’t happen to know if that is true, do you?” She glanced down to his left arm. “Your arm’s not hurting, is it?”

Malfoy's expression became sharp again. “Of course not,” he remarked defensively as he shifted his arms to behind his back. “But alas, there are rumors out there. One of which is that my son, Scorpius, is…”

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth as she stifled a laugh. Malfoy was now staring at her with as much hatred and intensity as he had given Harry not five minutes earlier.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.” He said as he lowered his head and began leaving.

“Malfoy!” Hermione shouted at him as she ran to catch up with him. She grabbed his left arm to gain his attention, but he yanked it out of her hands. “I’m sorry.  I shouldn't have laughed when this is obviously something that concerns you so much, but there’s no way that Scorpius is the son of Voldemort!” Hermione tried to keep her composure, but couldn’t help cracking a bit of a smile while completing her thought.

Malfoy’s face twisted, not finding this situation humorous at all. “That’s all well and good for you to say, Minister, but your words mean nothing. These rumors are spreading, and have caused us to remain isolated at the manor for the past several years.”

That explains why we haven’t seen him, Hermione thought. “I appreciate your honesty, but how can I help you Mr. Malfoy?”

“You’re the Minister of Magic now. I heard your speech and your call for acceptance, and immediately decided to come over.” Malfoy stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a photo of him, Astoria, and a young boy who she presumed was Scorpius. Hermione had to look at the photo twice to convince herself that she wasn’t looking at a photo of a young Draco Malfoy himself. Scorpius shared the trademark Malfoy white-blonde hair and tall slender physique. The main difference was, though, that this child seemed to actually be smiling – something Hermione rarely recalled Malfoy doing except for when he was ridiculing others. Hermione looked back at Malfoy, who had returned to looking at her with his soft eyes, and continued to speak with a speck of begging in voice. “You see, Scorpius will be starting Hogwarts in September, and I don’t want him entering the institute with the same preconceived notions about him that I had. He deserves a chance to be his own man without people automatically assuming the worst of him.”

She waited for him to finish, processing his words in completion. People thought that Scorpius was the son of Voldemort? She had to admit that the rumors made a bit of sense. The Malfoys were a prominent Death Eater family, and Malfoy’s own role in the war was far from secret. But how would that explain that Scorpius was Voldemort’s son? Just one look at the kid and you could see the distinct Malfoy features. Hermione really couldn’t understand how people didn’t think logically through the truth in rumors, but once rumors were out, she knew how difficult it could be to correct fallacies. She herself had been caught in the middle of more than a few gossip stories during her time. “How can I help you Mr. Malfoy?” she repeated.

Malfoy gripped both of Hermione’s shoulders with a sense of desperation. “Make some sort of statement. Assure people that the Dark Lord is defeated and he does not have a son.” If Hermione was not mistaken, it seemed like he was actually pleading to her. Hermione’s heart dropped in sympathy for Malfoy. As a mother, she could tell how important this was to him, and she wanted to help him. As the newly appointed Minister of Magic, she knew that it simply wasn’t feasible.

“I’m sorry, but that cannot be done at this time.” Hermione remorsefully stated, bowing her head. “We are a new administration founded on acceptance and moving forward from this long defeated war. We cannot add fuel to these rumors by formally addressing them.”

Malfoy looked crushed. His face became stern and his posture reset to straight and poised. “I see.”

He turned away from Hermione and proceeded back into the atrium. Hermione felt waves of sympathy, imagining how difficult it must have been for him to broach her with this concern. She wanted to help. She really did…

“Malfoy!” she shouted, but he was getting farther away. “Malfoy!” She started to walk towards him but he kept distancing himself. Hermione cusped her hands around her mouth and screamed “DRACO!” finally garnering his attention. He stood still while she met him just a few paces from the fireplaces. “Scorpius is starting this September?” she asked.

“Yes,” he responded, clearly over the conversation. He was looking around the rest of the Ministry, not paying much attention to Hermione.

“My daughter Rose is also starting Hogwarts this year.” Malfoy made a scoffing noise, but Hermione proceeded with her proposal. “While I can’t make a formal statement about your son, it may be a good idea if our children get to know each other before the school year begins. That way Scorpius can enter the school year with at least someone who has an unprejudiced opinion about him.” Malfoy had a sneer on his face, angering Hermione. “Look, Malfoy, I’m just trying to help you here, but if you’re not willing…”

“Somehow I don’t think your husband is going to go along with this plan,” Malfoy resolved through the snarl on his face.

Hermione did not appreciate Malfoy’s instant shut down of her idea, especially for that reason. She insisted on defending her plan. “We can invite Albus Potter as well so he can know two people, and I seriously doubt that all three of them will end up in the same house, so it can promote house unity before the school year even begins! Just imagine if Albus goes Gryffindor, Rose Ravenclaw, and Scorpius Slytherin and they have a friendship across three different houses…” Malfoy laughed again. “What!” She was putting out suggestions for Malfoy’s son and the problem that he approached her about and Malfoy was ignoring her very valid offer! The least he could do was to actually look at her while she spoke!

“Look, Granger, while I thank you for your time and offer, I must decline. Based on the look on Potter and the Weasel's faces right now, they seem ready to hex me at any moment. Have a good day.” Completing these final words, Malfoy entered the fireplace and disappeared.

Hermione was about to protest when she registered what he said. The Weasel? Her anger suddenly vanished and she turned around to see Ron standing by the stage surrounded by Harry, Ginny, and their children. He may be late, but he actually came! A huge smile flashed across her face and she ran across the Ministry atrium to embrace her husband on the other side.

“Sorry I’m late. I should have been here,” Ron apologized.

Hermione full on kissed him. She was just happy that he was there at all. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. You have your responsibilities – to your job and your family. I understand.”

“I told you he wished he could be here,” Harry butted in. Ginny elbowed him in the gut, causing him to shut up and Hermione to laugh. Hermione lingered in Ron’s embrace for a bit longer before the Weasleys and Potters left to go grab a celebratory lunch together in Diagon Alley.

Chapter Text

Hermione lifted the sheets on her side of the bed and settled in next to Ron. His body was a warm welcoming presence as she maneuvered her body until she was perfectly positioned on all of her favorite parts of his body. With her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him. “Thanks again for showing up earlier today,” she said sleepily as her eyes began to close. Hermione muttered nox, causing the lights in their bedroom to fade away. She continued to nuzzle her head against his body, soaking in just how good it felt to be going to bed with Ron without an argument.

Ron, however, clearly still had other things on his mind. “Why were you talking with that Malfoy git today?” Ron blurted out.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. Without even opening her eyes, she replied in a soft, sleep voice. “It was nothing honey. Just doing my job as Minister. Listening to my concerned citizens. That’s all.” When Ron didn’t response for a while, Hermione added, “Go to sleep, dear.”

Ron’s chest was rising and falling at quite a rapid pace, and Hermione could feel the tension in his shoulders. “It wasn’t ‘nothing.’ I saw him put his arms on you and he didn’t exactly look pleased. Not that I’ve ever seen him be happy since You-Know-Who fell.”

With that last remark, Hermione jerked open her eyes and slapped him on the stomach. “Ron! You can’t say things like that! You don’t know what’s going on in his head.”

“Sure I do!” Ron now sat up in bed, causing Hermione’s head to fall ungracefully directly onto the mattress. “The stupid git is still upset that he’s no longer important! I bet he thinks that he can manipulate you into giving him some sort of Ministry position so that he can start plotting his revenge for the return on You-Know-Who!”

“Lumos!” Hermione declared, returning lights to their room. Clearly her peaceful night of sleep wasn’t going to begin any time soon. “Muffliato,” she recited at their door as to not wake up the children with the inevitable fight that was about to break out. “Where to begin,” Hermione pondered out loud. “First of all, Ronald, we haven’t spoken to him in eons. Believe it or not, some people change over time. And what makes you think that he’s still on Voldemort’s side? Who are we to assume that he hasn't moved on from that outdated mentality?”

“He’s raising the son of Voldemort!” Ron screamed.

Hermione gaped at him, mouth open and head cocked to the side. She scrunched her eyebrows, and pressed two fingers to the sides of her temple. “Let me get this straight. You actually think Scorpius Malfoy is the son of Voldemort?”

Ron was not letting down. “Well why not? We always knew Malfoy was a conniving little prat who would do anything to gain power. What better way to ensure that his family remained important than to raise the next dark wizard?”

Hermione was in complete disbelief. She pulled the sheets off of her and slid her slippers onto her feet, grabbing her robe off the floor. She yanked her arms through each sleeve, fully prepared to engage in this fight. “You’re delusional! Have you ever met Scorpius?”

Ron joined her out of bed, but remained on the other side of the mattress. “No, but do I have to? He’s probably just as stuck up and ill mannered as the original Malfoy.”

“Have you ever even seen a picture of Scorpius?”

Ron started to falter. “A few years ago – in the Daily Prophet.” He paused as he fumbled over what to say next. “He’s probably been hiding out, letting us forget he exists! And when the time is right…” Ron clapped his hands “…Boom! Another Dark Lord!”

For the second night in a row, Hermione had it with her husband. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about Ron! Here you go again, trusting the words of strangers instead of coming up with your own logical conclusions. Not that you deserve to know, but Malfoy came up to me today because he wants me to stop these outrageous lies about his son’s lineage. And I for one, believe him.”

Ron was aghast. “He wants you to stop it so people don't expect it! And you believe Malfoy instead of me?”

“What proof do you have to convince me otherwise!?” She practically yelled.

“I don’t need proof! Just listen to what everyone’s saying! A Minister who doesn’t listen to his or her citizens isn’t a very good Minister at all!”

Hermione stepped back and stared at Ron with a hatred that she hadn’t felt in ages. “What. What… What did you just say?”

“I… I didn’t mean that…” Ron protested.

“Day one and you’re already saying I’m not a very good Minister? You really don’t think I can be Minister, do you? What’s wrong with me Ron? Is it because I’m a woman? Or should the Minister of Magic not be a Mudblood!”

“You know I don’t believe that!” Ron said through hurt eyes.

Hermione couldn’t shake his words from her head though. Ron was her husband – the one who was supposed to be her partner through all of this, not the one combating her every night. She knew that Ron had always had his shortcomings and slight prejudices, but she thought that he would eventually out grow them. At the same time, if she was going to do her job as Minister properly, she couldn’t be surrounded by negative influences.

“I need you to go,” she concluded. Ron looked at her with shock. “It can just be for the night, but you need to leave. I’ll tell the kids you had to work early.”

“’Mione,” Ron pleaded, but she wasn’t having it.

“Please,” she begged as tears were starting to form in the corner of her eyes. “I need to sleep. Tomorrow’s my first day as Minister. I need to be rested.”

Hermione removed her robe and slippers, and returned to bed, much less comfortable now that she didn’t have Ron’s shoulder to place her head on. She moved a pillow under her head, but the effect just wasn’t the same. After several moments, she heard Ron shuffle around the room to gather some of his belongings before he apparated away.

***

Hermione woke up the next morning in a clamor, realizing that she had no plan of what to do with the children while she was at work. Fridays were typically Ron’s day to take the kids to work with him, but he left with such haste last night, she feared that he might have forgotten. She waited as long as she could for Ron to arrive, but the time ticked away until she had to be at the Ministry in fifteen minutes.  

Hermione quickly racked her brain for potential options.  Ginny and Harry would both be at work as well, plus she wouldn't want to implicate the Potters any further in her and Ron’s troubles. Molly was another choice, but she too would ask too many questions about why she needed to take care of Rose and Hugo on such short notice.  But then Hermione thought back to her conversation with Malfoy yesterday.  When she had proposed their children spend time together, it had just been in theory.  The actuality of it made her a bit nauseous, but time was running out.  Reluctantly and in a bit of a bind, Hermione prepared her kids for an impromptu play date at the Malfoy Manor. Before she could change her mind, Hermione apparated with her children. 

Hermione had not been back to the Malfoy Manor in nearly twenty years. She had no reasons to ever want to return to the wretched place – until today that is. It was easy for her to remember its location. She didn’t think she would ever be able to forget the place. Unsurprising to her, the gates in front of it were locked, and she was unable to enter the premises.  In the distance, she saw the front door of the house open as Draco Malfoy walked out.

“Rose, Hugo, why don’t you guys go explore the front gardens. I need to talk with Mr. Malfoy for a moment.” Her children scurried off right as Malfoy approached.

“What do you want, Granger,” he sneered without any trace of warm welcome.  

“Nice to see you again, too, Malfoy,” she responded cheerfully, pretending as if nothing was wrong or unexpected. “I figured we could start our plan early with acquainting Scorpius with other young wizards. I brought Rose and Hugo for him to play with.”

Malfoy’s eyes darted to the two children playing in his gardens. “Let me guess. Ron doesn’t know you’re here.” Hermione’s didn’t want to reveal the truth but the sadness in her eyes betrayed her intentions. “Tut, tut, Granger. Lying to your husband is not the sign of a healthy marriage.”

“Oh and I’m sure your marriage with Astoria is so much better!” Hermione was not here to talk about her marriage, but she could not sit idly while he made these assumptions, even if his statements weren’t unfounded. Yet, she noticed that her remarks impacted Malfoy much more deeply that she intended. His poise suddenly slacked and he didn’t immediately snap back. “Malfoy, I’m sorry if I offended you, I…”

“You know nothing about me and Astoria,” he said gravely. “But I want the best for my Scorpius and you clearly have something else on your mind.” Hermione began to object, but Malfoy cut her off. “Don’t bother, Granger. You may think you’re so clever, but I can tell that you have no other options. You’re hair is frizzier than usual, the bags under your eyes have grown since yesterday, and you brought not only Rose, but also Hugo. You clearly had an argument with Weasley last night and need someone to take care of them today. No matter, I’ll do it. Plus, I find that it’s always beneficial to do favors for the Minister of Magic.” He chuckled at the last line, appearing to try to alleviate the sudden rigidness that had consumed Hermione’s demeanor.

Hermione’s cheeks heated up. Was her hair really that much frizzier today? She had tried to tame it a bit yesterday for the press conference, but she didn’t think the difference had been that significant. And she supposed she did in deed get less sleep last night. It didn’t help that she kept wake up in the middle of the night from nerves, only to be reminded that she was alone in her bed. She couldn’t admit that he wasn’t wrong. Was it that obvious what was going on in Hermione’s personal life? “Thank you,” she conceded with a sigh. “But if I hear that one bad thing happens to my children, you best believe I'll have the whole Department of Magical Law Enforcement beating down your door.” 

“No need to get so worked up, Granger." Malfoy snarled.  "Your children will be safe here,” he assured her. “I will be here all day, as will Astoria. We don’t leave the Manor too often, so guests will be a welcome change for Scorpius.”

Hermione glared at him, still a bit hesitant, but saw that she was mere moments from being late to her first day as Minister. She called for Rose and Hugo to return to the gate. She quickly introduced them to Malfoy and with a kiss on the forehead, promised them that she would be back at the end of the day. The children walked through the gates and eventually entered the Manor.

As she walked away from the gates, she was still uncertain, yet she couldn't help but feel that there was something about Malfoy that seemed different. Between yesterday and today, it appeared that having a child was something that had positively changed him. Or maybe it was Astoria. Either way, twenty-four hours ago, she never would have imagined that Draco Malfoy would have been on her list of witches and wizards she trusted with her most precious possessions. He had been more caring in one day that he had been over seven years at Hogwarts. If today went well, she’d have to remember to rub it in Ron’s face that people really can change.

Chapter Text

With a burst of green flames, Hermione appeared in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Witches and wizards rushed past her, oblivious to the arrival of the new Minister. To be fair, she wasn’t dressed much more ornately than everyone else around her and maybe some people didn’t know who she was yet. Okay, that last part probably wasn’t true. But as for her robes, they truly weren’t any bit of remarkable. In fact, she was fairly certain the robes she was wearing were even a few years old. So much had happened this morning that she hadn’t even considering focusing on what exactly she would wear for her first day at the job.

As if imperiused, Hermione mindlessly navigated her way through the atrium and entered the elevators. The elevator doors opened, and a group of witches and wizards entered the cart. One by one, each pushed the button for their floor. When it was Hermione’s turn, she was millimeters away from pushing the button for the Department of Magic Law Enforcement. Realizing her mistake, she directed the elevator to take her to the Office of the Minister of Magic. These small changes were going to take some getting used to – and Hermione was sure that this was just the tip of the iceberg of the new experiences to which she needed to adapt.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened, revealing the Office of the Minister of Magic. Hermione looked around at the renovated space. Reaching the door, Hermione grazed her fingers across the shiny new nameplate that adorned the entrance. “Minister Granger.” She quite liked the sound of that. 

Her chest rose as Hermione took in a deep breath of air and twisted the doorknob, entering her new office. The room was sparsely decorated at the moment, except for the ornate wooden desk, which sat prominently in the middle of the room. Three crisp new quills were already on the desk, dipped in a bottle of ink. Next to them was a pile of parchments, already demanding the Minister’s attention.

Prepared to take on the day, Hermione conjured up a chair to sit in. She positioned it behind the desk, and began to scan through the various treatises, proposals, and laws that required her input. She picked up the first document as began perusing it with pleasure. Regulation of Swedish Short-Snout Dragon Egg Trade Routes. Alone in her thoughts, Hermione picked up a quill, and began jotting down her comments.

Hermione was in the process of revising Standard Potion Brewing Practices when she heard a knock at her door.

“Come in!” Hermione shouted from her desk. The door creaked open as the person entered the room, but Hermione’s attention remained encapsulated on the parchment. Who on earth thought it was reasonable to propose that potion brewing should only be restricted to three meters away from public dining areas? Even that distance was uncomfortably close to food and could cause massive health issues!

“Excuse me, ma’am.” A young woman stood in front of Hermione. She must have been only a few years younger than Hermione herself, but exactly how much younger, Hermione couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her hair was incredibly long and shiny, so she guessed that she probably didn’t have children yet because kids have a way of making sure that hair care is no longer a top priority. Not that hair had ever truly been one of Hermione’s main concerns. Maybe she had been a student at Hogwarts the same time as Hermione? Now Hermione felt bad for not knowing the woman.

“Minister Granger, allow me to introduce myself,” the woman began. “My name is Alice and I am your assistant for whatever you need.” Alice gave a slight curtsy to Hermione.

Hermione laughed at the gesture. “No need for that! I’m not the Queen of England!”

Alice stood back up. “Yes, ma’am. You are currently needed in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for a briefing.”

Hermione sighed with relief. At least her first meeting would be with a department that she was familiar with. Plus, Harry would most likely be in attendance. This should make the transition to all these responsibilities just a bit smoother.

Going back to her desk, Hermione piled up the parchments from earlier and returned the quill to the ink bottle before leaving her office for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

***

Harry stood in front of the room full of witches and wizards and debriefed Hermione with the current state of affairs for the department. She had never seen Harry take such initiative with his work before and was quite impressed with his level of detail. Mountain trolls riding Graphorns through Hungary? Giants with winged tattoos on their backs walking through the Great Sea? Werewolves going underground? While Voldemort was long defeated, there sure were a lot of things that could be potentially problematic for the wizarding community.

Could the movement of all of these people and beasts who fought alongside Voldemort actually mean something? No, there’s no way, Hermione assured herself. But what if? She knew the chances were slim, but just the mere thought of the return of any dark wizard terrified Hermione to her core. She no longer just had herself to worry about – she now had two children that she would easily sacrifice herself for in order to protect.

Were her kids even safe with Malfoy? What was she thinking leaving her kids with him?  What a rash, irrational decision on her part! She should have taken them to the shop and had them wait until Ron arrived.  Or taken them to work with her.  Or just have been late.  There were so many better options than this!  Hermione tried to imagine her children playfully enjoying themselves at the Malfoy Manor, but all that popped into her mind were her own traumatic memories from the wretched place.

A cruel, wicked laugh echoed through her memories. She scratched at her arm, aching to remove the scarred words, forever etched in her skin. Her mind raced through flashes of scenes. Bellatrix holding her down. The blood puddling on the floor. Draco Malfoy helplessly witnessing everything.

Hermione’s head fell into her hands, massaging her temples, trying to erase these nightmares from her recollection. The war was over. It’s been over for almost twenty years. But sometimes the battle inside her still waged on.

A soft hand lightly patted her shoulder, and Hermione looked up. Harry was standing right behind her, his green eyes wide with concern. “Hermione, what happened?”

Hermione lifted her head and wiped away a tear that had started to form in the corner of her eye. The room around her was now empty. What happened to the meeting? She had become so absorbed by her thoughts that she had completely dismissed her surroundings. “Umm,” she hesitated, trying to find the words to say to Harry.

Harry had always been Hermione’s confidant. He understood her in a way that only he could. Ron was a close second, but her friendship with Harry had always been on a deeper emotional level.  Without waiting for her to say another word, Harry grabbed the chair next to her and placed his hand on her knee.

“What memory was it this time?” he questioned.

“The Malfoy Manor.” Hermione responded through choppy breaths. “Bellatrix…” she muttered before looking away, unable to complete the thought without relapsing into the violent recollections. A Minister is supposed to be strong, and right now she was weak. What if Ron was right? Was she emotionally prepared for his position?

“I still have nightmares, too, you know.” Harry assured her, as if reading her mind. “After Cedric died, I didn’t go a single night without reliving his death. Sometimes I still see his face while I sleep. I wish I could say it goes away.  Although it gets better, you never fully heal.”

If anyone comprehended this situation, it truly was Harry. Hermione was so grateful that he was there to appease her fears, even just temporarily.

“Come on, Hermione. Let’s get some lunch. I think you need a break before resuming your Minister duties.”

***

Harry and Hermione strolled along the path of Diagon Alley, looking for a place to eat. She knew that her husband was just a couple blocks up the way at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, but she was too ashamed to talk with him right now. She didn’t want to admit to him that their children were currently at the place that haunted her.  Plus, his words from the night before still stung in her mind.

Eventually settling on eating at a small café, they grabbed a seat outside, enjoying the small amount of shade provided by an umbrella. They sat in silence as Hermione perused the menu, determining what she wanted to eat. Nervous butterflies from concerns about her children still fluttered in her stomach, so food didn’t sound like the most appealing thing at the moment. She decided to simply order tea for now and would order something substantial once she calmed down. Harry ordered the same. Within a few moments, the waiter returned with their drinks.

“I think I made a mistake,” Hermione blurted out, breaking the silence. Her teacup rattled in her hands as she brought it to her lips, taking a quick sip as she let her words settle.

“Hermione Granger? Messed up?” Harry responded with a joking, playful tone. Hermione laughed, momentarily feeling like herself. She grabbed her menu and smacked Harry lightly on the shoulder. “I never thought I would hear of such a thing in my life!”

“Seriously, Harry!” Hermione said firmly, but still cracking a slight smile.

“I’m sure it’s not too bad. Unless you’ve managed to destroy the peace of the Ministry on your first day of work.” Harry thought he was being subtle, but Hermione knew that he was just trying to soothe Hermione by causing her to laugh. It was working – somewhat. But she needed to tell someone what she had done.

“Not exactly, but I may or may not have left my kids with a former Death Eater this morning..." 

Harry was mid sip when she completed her sentence. He choked on his tea, coughing a handful of times before able to respond. “Hermione, you didn’t seriously trust Malfoy with Rose and Hugo?”

“I know!” Hermione sighed with frustration. “After seeing him yesterday, he seemed so concerned about Scorpius and somewhat like a decent person nowadays, but what if he was faking it? I could have just given my children to a Death Eater!” The complications of her actions began to fully hit Hermione. Her eyes began to water up. “My children! Honestly, Harry, what was I thinking?”

For the second time that day, Hermione’s dark imagination and painful emotions got the best of her and she burst into tears. Harry stepped out of his chair and went around to the other side of the table in order to comfort her.

“Well, at least, I don’t have to tell you how stupid you’ve been. Seems like you’ve figured that one out for yourself.”

Hermione frowned. “You’re not helping.”

“No, but the only thing that’s going to help right now is if we go get your kids out of there.” Hermione nodded, agreeing to this plan. Harry stood up, and dug out a couple sickles out of his pocket. He placed them on the table, and took a few more gulps of his tea.   “Come on. Let’s go get Ron.”

Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand, but she stood there in place. “We can’t tell Ron.”

“Can’t tell Ron?” Harry repeated back in disbelief. Understanding dawned on his face. “You didn’t tell Ron where the kids are? Hermione, what’s going on with two? Are you fighting again?”

Hermione always felt a bit reserved when talking to Harry about her problems with Ron. Even when they were students at Hogwarts, she felt guilty pinning Harry between the two of them. Both of them were his best friends, after all. She feared that one day he would end up choosing Ron over her. She couldn’t risk losing him now.

She tried to answer the question nonchalantly. “He just didn’t take the kids to work today, is all.”

Harry didn’t buy it.

With a resigned sign, Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. “Hermione, we need to talk about this more later, but right now, we need to get the kids.” He regained her hand, and in an instant, they apparated back to the Malfoy Manor.

*** 

In a flash, Hermione and Harry arrived outside the Malfoy Manor, again greeted by locked gates. Hermione bombarded the entrance and shook them in place. With absolutely no rush, Malfoy strolled out of the mansion, and slowly approached the gate. Each step closer caused Hermione’s blood pressure to rise just a little bit higher.

After what seemed like an eternity, Malfoy was finally within close enough proximity that Hermione could read his facial expression. He was calm and looked slightly perplexed. Hermione was not in the mood to deal with his mind games.

“Good afternoon, Minister. Back so soon?” Malfoy said with strained inflection. “And you brought Potter I see. Still no Weasley by your side?” The blood started to rush towards Hermione’s face. “I always did think that you could’ve ended up with better than that blundering red-head, but I just assumed your next match would be someone outside of your Hogwarts trio.”

Hermione lunged at him through the gates but Harry restrained her just in time. “He has your kids,” he gently reminded her.

With a huff, Hermione composed herself, but still approached Malfoy with her wand at the ready. “I want to see Rose and Hugo,” she demanded, aiming her wand in his direction.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, unfazed by Hermione’s inherent threat. “Like I told you earlier, there's no need to get so worked up, Minister. The children are safe inside playing with Scorpius, as per your wishes.”

Inside her head, Hermione mildly relaxed, but did not let her outward appearance reflect this change.   “I still want to see them,” she resolved.

“As you insist, Minister,” Malfoy agreed. With a flick of his wand, the gates opened. Hermione lowered her wand and entered, Harry not far behind her. Before Harry could enter, Malfoy began to seal the entrance. “One condition. Potter stays outside. You’re one thing, Granger, but I still don’t want him inside my home.”

Harry was about to protest when Hermione spoke up first. “I am agreeable to those terms.” Malfoy closed the gates, leaving Harry on the other side, and turned around, back towards the mansion. Before following, Hermione went back to Harry. “I can do this on my own. Just give me fifteen minutes with Malfoy. If I’m not back by then, find a way in.” Harry agreed, and Hermione ran to catch up.

Malfoy walked with poise, dressed with formal robes, even though she doubted he had left the house all day. Reaching his side, he did not acknowledge her presence. He remained stone faced and solemn. His aura was decisively cold compared to the pleading Malfoy who had desperately approached her the day before.

Hermione looked back and saw Harry walking back and forth at the entrance of the gate, anxiously counting down the minutes until he tried to enter himself. The closer she got to the front door, the more she wished that she had insisted on Harry coming with her. She had been so determined to reunited with her children that she had not considered what reentering the Manor for the first time in nearly twenty years might do to her psyche – especially after the flashbacks she had suffered mere hours ago.

A house elf opened the door, leaving a portal for Malfoy to enter with minimal effort. Hermione froze a few steps away from the entry. She had overcome so much since the years of the war, but this seemed to be one barrier that still loomed over her existence.

Noticing her disappearance, Malfoy looked back and waited for her in the doorframe. His somber expression turned apprehensive, detecting her hesitation.

“I don’t bite.” Malfoy jested.

Although still not fully convinced, Hermione slowly entered the Malfoy Manor for the second time in her life, the first time by choice.

She entered the drawing room, which looked almost exactly like it had the last time. It’s plum purple walls served as a dark contrast to the sparkling chandelier that glimmered from the ceiling. The chandelier was obviously a replacement for the one that had been there prior but was just as ornate. The fireplace in front of her blazed despite the warm summer weather outside.

Then her eyes fell upon an umber brown stain on the otherwise white marble floor.   Suddenly, the flashbacks overwhelmed Hermione’s sensory. Screeching cries. Antagonizing pain. Desperate helplessness. Mudblood.

Hermione’s vision faded to black as the anguish conquered her. She lost consciousness and began to tumble to the floor. Moments before hitting the ground, she heard two concerned cries.

“Hermione!”

“Mom!”

Chapter Text

Hermione fluttered her eyes open, and the world slowly began to return to focus. The back of her head seared with pain as she struggled to remember where she was. She twitched her fingers and felt the cool soft linen underneath her. She didn’t remember falling asleep… In fact, she couldn’t even remember going back to her home. But these sheets delicately slid through her fingers and were certainly higher quality than anything her and Ron could afford.

Ron! Her memories started flooding back. Ron… her kids… Malfoy. Feeling a sudden rush of terror, Hermione jerked her body forward, causing her to feel woozy and lightheaded.

“Careful, or you’ll pass out again.” Startled by the stiff voice next her, Hermione whipped her head and saw Malfoy rigidly seated in a chair beside her bed. He grabbed a wet washcloth from the nightstand beside him. He wrung out the excess water and brought it towards her forehead.

Hermione shifted her head away, cautious of any sign of attention from her old enemy. Before she was going to let him any closer to him, she needed answers. “What happened?” Hermione demanded.

Malfoy dropped the washcloth next to her and stood up from his chair. He began to leisurely wander around the bedroom. “You fainted as soon as you entered the Manor. Hit your head quite hard,” Malfoy responded curtly, all the while, never glancing in her direction.

Hermione brushed her hand along her forehead. A huge bump had developed immediately above her right eyebrow. Just what Hermione needed. She picked up the washcloth and pressed it hard against her brow.

Finally showing her the decency of acknowledging her visual existence, Malfoy returned to her side, stealing back the washcloth. “You’re doing it wrong,” he protested. Hermione glared back at him skeptically, but he went back to ignoring her gaze, dabbing the washcloth gently around her bump. “If you put all the pressure on the bump itself, it’s just going to swell up more. You need to massage the surrounding area to spread the blood flow outward.”

Hermione looked at him with disbelief. “I’d never heard that before,” she admitted. Malfoy’s expertise on simple head wounds astounded her, but not as much as his willingness to nurse her.

“Yes, well, you’re not the first person I’ve had to take care of.” Malfoy sneered. Hermione was sure that Scorpius probably had his fair share of physical injuries, but she just assumed that his house elves dealt with most of those issues. Malfoy must be a more hands on father than she had expected. Not that he was doing much else with all his time at the Manor.

Malfoy now surveyed Hermione’s full body, wrapped under the blankets and relaxed in what she presumed was one of many guest bedrooms. As his eyes scanned over her, she noticed that his face turned solemn. Hermione had to admit that Malfoy was being surprisingly nice to her. Well, maybe not “nice” per se, but at least he wasn’t being mean. Perhaps he felt responsible that his house had been the cause of her trauma-induced blackout.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, until Malfoy finally spoke up.

“So, do you want to talk about this or…”

If Hermione was not mistaken, Malfoy actually sounded a bit worried. That, however, did not change the fact that Hermione most certainly did not want to talk about this with Malfoy! In fact, he was probably the last person she wanted to discuss her mental struggles with. Then she remembered the person that did fit that bill. “Where’s Harry?”

Mentioning Harry struck a chord in Malfoy, and his brief moment of sincere concern vanished. “I’m not Potter’s babysitter, Granger.” Malfoy twisted his face in disdain. “Despite my wishes, he insisted on coming in for a bit to be with the kids, but after I convinced him that I’m not actively trying to kill you or the children, I believe he returned to the Ministry.”

Oh shoot. Hermione hadn’t even thought about work. First day on the job, and she couldn’t even make it through a full eight hours without multiple incidents.

“Your children are alive and well, by the way,” Malfoy continued. “Scorpius and Rose had just come downstairs when they saw you faint. She’s quite shaken up at the moment, but Scorpius has been consoling her.   He’s pretty used to this type of stuff.”

Hermione cocked her head in intrigue, but Malfoy froze up. He became distant and unresponsive. His already pale face suddenly became completely flush. His hand clenched into a fist and began to shake ever so slightly. Hermione was alarmed by this startling shift in behavior, seemingly out of place for what they had been discussing.

“Malfoy?” she asked, trying to regain his attention.

With a quick shake of his head, the life returned to Malfoy’s face, but his mind still seemed trapped in the thought that had just taken him over. He scrambled to change the topic.

“As I was saying, Rose and Hugo are fine. I’ve never seen Scorpius so overjoyed.” With the simple mention of his son, Malfoy returned to the caring father she had met yesterday. Fatherhood seemed to suit Malfoy well. It was blatantly obvious how much Scorpius meant to him – a love that only a father could have for his son.

Hermione sat up in her bed, feeling strong enough and no longer lightheaded. Malfoy handed her the washcloth, and she held it steady on top of her bump. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy trying to protect him from all the rumors.” Hermione sympathized.

“Yes, well, we managed to make do. As my father always said, a Malfoy’s first priority is to other Malfoys, so as long as we have each other…” but then Malfoy’s words faded away. The distant glaze of his eyes returned, but only momentarily before he shifted the subject again.

“Rose and Hugo. Nice children. Rose is quite something. Until today, I never thought there was a Weasley I could actually tolerate.” Quite shocked by his own revelation, Malfoy made sure to add a disclaimer to his statement. “Let’s make this clear – I am still by no means a fan of your husband.”

Hermione laughed. She figured she’d take what she could get when it came to Malfoy compliments. And to be fair, sometimes she herself wasn’t the biggest fan of her husband.

“Yes, well, I better get the children and tell them that you’re okay,” Malfoy declared, turning his back to her and exiting the bedroom.

Hermione waited patiently for his return. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was going on with Malfoy. Something was clearly bothering him. There was still the ever so slight possibility that Scorpius really was the son of Voldemort, but Hermione just couldn’t imagine that this could be the case. Hermione had a never-ending list of reasons not to trust Malfoy, yet she sincerely did believe him on this issue. Just look at the way he lit up every time he mentioned his son’s name.

The door swung open, and Rose ran into the room, scrambling on top of the bed, hugging her mother with all her might. Hugo shortly followed, plopping down belly-first at the foot of the bed.

“I saw you faint and was so concerned, Mum!” She clung on tightly, and Hermione gripped her back equally hard.

“Nothing to worry about, dear. Just had a stressful first day of work, and I guess it just got the best of me,” she claimed.

Rose looked at her askew. “That’s odd. Uncle Harry said that you were so busy at work that you forgot to eat lunch.”

“Well, yes that too,” Hermione jumbled her words, trying to fill in the holes of her and Harry’s conflicting stories. “See, I was so nervous and stressed, I simply worked through lunch.” There. That should appease Rose’s suspicions.

Malfoy reappeared in the doorway and gave her a knowing glance. He probably knew all about the necessity to keep certain things from one’s child. She could only imagine the innocent lies he told Scorpius to keep him in the dark from the cruel gossip.

And that’s when she finally saw him. Hiding behind Malfoy was the boy, white blonde hair planted on top of his head. Malfoy placed his hand on Scorpius’s back and pushed him into the room.

Scorpius stumbled forward, nearly dropping the book he had clenched in his hands, protecting his chest. His eyes were wide and full of concern, seemingly apprehensive to take any step forward.

Malfoy placed a careful hand on Scorpius’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Scorpius looked up at him and let out an uneasy sigh. Only then did he come closer, but still halted a few paces away from the bed.

“Come here, Scorpius!” Rose insisted, eagerly motioning for him to bridge his self-made gap.

Scorpius remained slightly hesitant, but slowly approached, reaching Hermione’s bedside.

“Minister Granger, it is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m honored. I mean, I am honored to meet you. Not that my name is Honored. I’m Scorpius Malfoy… errr… Scorpius.” He knocked himself on his forehead with the palm of his hand. He dropped his shoulders and let out a short, quick breath. Gaining his composure, he firmly stated, “I’m Scorpius.”

Malfoy remained in the doorframe, witnessing Scorpius’s botched introduction unfold. He slouched his head down, keeping his head slightly propped up with his fingertips while shaking his head back and forth in embarrassment. He turned on the balls of his feet and left Hermione alone in the room with the children.

Hermione, on the other hand, found Scorpius’s nervousness quite charming. She felt pangs of sympathy for the young boy who probably didn’t have much experience with situations like this. His personality was nothing like his own father’s at the same age, but some differences between them were definitely for the best.

Hermione smiled at Scorpius, hoping to make him fell more at ease. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Scorpius. And you don’t need to call me Minister Granger when I’m in your own home. You may call me Hermione.”

Scorpius’s face lit up, as if this extension of alliance from Hermione was all that he needed to feel comfortable. “Thank you, ma’am. I mean, Hermione, ma’am.” He turned a bit pink on the cheeks, still stumbling over his words. “Just, uh, glad to see you… up and at ‘em,” he said, accompanying his words with punches to the air around him.

Hugo broke out in laughter, and Hermione smiled along. “No need to have been concerned, dear. It was just a bump on the head. Nothing to fear about me not waking up.”

Scorpius’s innocent face fell flat, all the color gone from his face. “Sometimes you don’t know when a person won’t wake up."

Before Hermione could press further, Rose jumped off the bed and grabbed the book from Scorpius’s hands, thrusting it into Hermione’s lap. On top of the book was a handmade “Get Well Soon” card. Hermione picked it up appreciatively.

“Oh goodness, children! I was only asleep for a few hours!” she protested.

“I know, Mum, but it worked! You got well really soon.” Hugo beamed, jumping up and down, as he remained seated on the bed.

“Very thoughtful of you, Hugo.”

“The card was actually Scorpius’s idea!” exclaimed Hugo. “But I drew the picture of Hogwarts myself!”

“It’s a wonderful drawing, Hugo. Just a few more years until you get to go there yourself.” Hermione then turned her attention to Scorpius. “Thank you for the card. It's absolutely lovely.”

Scorpius mumbled something under his breath, but Hermione couldn’t understand it. He looked down at his shoes, kicking the ground beneath him. “Umm, if you don’t mind, Hermione, will you please read us a story?”

Rose eagerly picked up the book that rested in Hermione’s lap. “Look Mum! Scorpius has one of the original copies of Beedle the Bard! In fact, you should see his whole library! It’s absolutely overflowing with books! He may even have more than you!”

Hermione looked at Scorpius, mildly impressed. “More books than me? That must be quite a collection you have there, Scorpius.”

Scorpius turned on a feign smile and said with self-deprecating humor, “When the rest of the world thinks you’re the enemy, you might as well surround yourself with imaginary friends who can’t ever see the evil in you!”

Hermione’s heart completely shattered. Scorpius appeared to be trying his best to hide the pain in his expression, but a mother’s instinct can usually read through a child’s inner turmoil. Turns out he knew more about the rumors than she would ever wish upon an innocent child.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Hermione consoled him, grabbing his hand in hers. “I hope you know that I don’t believe a single word of those rumors.”

“What rumors?” Rose looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to piece together their unspoken words. Without an answer, she hugged the sullen Scorpius next to her. “Fine. Keep me out of your secrets, but I’ll be your friend Scorpius. We all need a friend to help us through dark times.”

Scorpius’s sincere smile resurfaced. “You know, Rose, that might be the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”

Hermione had to admit that just two days prior, she never would have expected her daughter to befriend the son of Draco Malfoy, but there were definitely less probable things that had become reality in this world.

Malfoy returned to the room, just in time to watch their children embrace. Instead of a face of disgust like she would have expected from him seeing his son hug the daughter of a Mudblood, he actually looked relieved and pleased.

One day into her plan and Scorpius was already starting to form a friendship.

Heart warmed, Hermione picked up the old copy of Beedle the Bard. “Which story would you like me to read, Scorpius?”

Timidly, Scorpius responded. “Can you please read The Fountain of Fair Fortune?”

Malfoy’s head immediately snapped up, and he hastily marched directly to the bed, ripping the book from Hermione’s hands. “Not now, Scorpius. Your mother is calling for you, and I believe that Mrs. Granger has had enough attention for the evening.”

Scorpius immediately perked up in excitement. “Mother? Yes, whatever she needs!” He quickly said goodbye to Hermione, Hugo, and finally Rose before rushing out of the room.

With the departure of Scorpius, Hermione figured it was an appropriate time for her and her children to finally leave the Malfoy Manor. She wasn’t quite sure what time it was, but if she had been passed out for a few hours, it was inevitably nearing the end of a typical work day. Ron would be done with work soon, and it would be for the best if she, Rose, and Hugo were home before him.

Moving her legs for the first time in what seemed like ages, Hermione let out a moan, using the tense muscles. Her head started to feel a bit dizzy again, and she seriously doubted that apparating in this state of mind would be safe, especially if Rose and Hugo were coming along as well.

“I’m going to have to use your Floo Network,” Hermione told Malfoy whose back was currently facing her. Upon hearing her words, he turned around. His eyes were red and bloodshot, appearing to have just been crying. “Malfoy? Is everything alright?”

He quickly wiped his finger under his eye, but did not let on to anything else. “The powder is located in the urn next to the fireplace in the drawing room. Think you’ll be able to last for longer than a few seconds this time around, Granger?” Despite the malintent conveyed in the words, their sharpness was not conveyed with Malfoy’s tone. Sincerity was missing, making his attack fall completely flat.  

Hugo guided the unsteady Hermione to the door, while Rose lingered a few paces behind. “Mr. Malfoy, when am I coming over again?”

Hearing Rose speak, Hermione turned around and looked at Malfoy to read his response. He seemed a bit shell-shocked by Rose’s straight forward request. Malfoy looked across the room, as if waiting to see if Hermione would respond, but she was completely content with letting Malfoy make that determination.

“I don’t know, Rose,” he eventually replied. “Scorpius and I have some prior commitments we must focus on, but I will talk with your mother and find a suitable time.”

Satisfied enough with the response, Rose skipped across the room, assisting Hugo as Hermione’s crutches. Hermione tapped both of them on the head. “Thank you, children, but I think I can go the rest of the way myself. I’ll meet you in the drawing room in just a minute.”

Within a few seconds, Hermione and Malfoy were again alone.

“Do you really mean it? Is Rose invited back here?”

“If she makes Scorpius happy, then I have no issues with Rose. For the time being, at least.”

Hermione was impressed. Malfoy was willing to overcome their decades worth of hatred if it meant a better situation for his son. While Hermione personally agreed with this sentiment, she could only hope that Ron could feel the same way.

She gave a short nod to Malfoy and left the room, joining her children in the drawing room, in front of the fireplace.

With a shout for home and a throw of powder, they were engulfed in flames, soon back home, where a waiting Ron sat impatiently on the couch.

Chapter Text

Unnerved by Ron’s presence, Hermione carefully stepped out the fireplace with her children. She snuck a look at the clock and noticed that he was home at least an hour early from work. Ron may have been a distressingly lazy student at Hogwarts, but when it came to the joke shop, he was unexpectedly devoted. If he was home this early in the evening, then there must have been extenuating circumstances, and she had more than an inkling of an idea about what that was. Any scenario she had of Rose one day returning to Malfoy Manor instantly left her mind.  She tried to gage Ron’s attitude based on his facial expressions, but there was not enough time before Hugo ran out of her hand and embraced his father.

“Dad!”

“Hey there, kiddo!” He cheerfully picked up Hugo, and spun him around in his arms. At least based on this, Ron didn’t seem to be in a terrible mood. “I developed a new trick at work today. Wanna see?”

“Yeah!” Hugo enthusiastically shouted.

With a wave of his hand and mumbled made up words, Ron lamely pretended to remove Hugo’s nose from his face. “Got your nose!” Ron claimed, waving an empty hand in front of Hugo’s face.

“No you didn’t,” Rose countered indifferently. Hermione had to admit that she was just as unimpressed at the supposed trick as Rose was, but she was way too tense to say anything at this point. A true mirror of her mother, Rose was able to express the opinion that Hermione secretly shared. “His nose is clearly still there. If you’re going to do silly tricks, at least make sure they actually work.” She rolled her eyes and went down the hall, heading towards her bedroom.

“It’s not supposed to work! That’s the point!” Ron shouted down the hall.

Reaching her door, Rose yelled back one final response. “Fine! Just promise to never embarrass me in public with them!”

“Not a chance!” he shouted back. Not letting Rose’s lack of amusement bother him, Ron turned to Hugo, bouncing him up and down. “Ahh, girls. I never did truly understand them. Promise you’ll do better than your old man? Okay, kid?”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes, but she still didn’t verbally protest.

“Sure thing, Dad!” Hugo flashed his father a huge smile, and Ron returned the favor.

Hermione wished she could furtively leave the room like Rose had, but her feet were stuck to the ground as if she’d been struck with the Immobulus Charm. The mental imagine of Ron waiting for her arrival on the couch lingered and perpetuated her theory that Ron was upset about something. She found it too alarming that Ron had failed to acknowledge her so far this evening.

Ron gave Hugo a couple more bounces in his arms before setting him down. “Okay, mate, go run along. Mum and Dad need to talk for a bit.”

Hermione quivered, but refused to let Hugo hear any hesitation in her voice. “Yes, dear. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Hugo disappeared down the hall, and when Hermione heard the click of his door closing, she recited “Colloportus,” ensuring that her children would remain where they were. She turned to Ron whose initial joy with the children was gone, instead replaced with an uneasy look.

“Bloody hell, Hermione, where have you been?” Ron exasperated. “I came here this morning to pick up the kids, but you were gone before I got here.”

"I waited as late as I could, but then I had to get to work, so we had to leave.” Hermione explained, fully well knowing that she was leaving out a major detail at the moment.  Her stomach tied into a knot, the guilt starting to build inside her.  While nothing bad had ended up happening at the Malfoy's, she knew how Ron felt about him and was absolutely certain that he wouldn't be thrilled to know about the events of the day.  Perhaps it would be for the best if she never mentioned it and they all moved on with their lives.  Rose would see Scorpius at Hogwarts soon enough, anyhow. 

“I figured as much, but I checked with Mum and the kids weren’t with her.  I then assumed you must have taken them to work, so after I did a few necessary things at the shop, I thought I’d just surprise you all at the Ministry.”

The knot in Hermione’s stomach grew and was now paired with a lump in her throat. If Ron had ended up in her office, then he obviously knew that the children weren't there with her. She anxiously looked around their home, trying find anything to catch her focus that wasn’t her husband’s apprehensive face.

Her eyes reached the kitchen where she saw a fresh bouquet of flowers peeking out of the trashcan. The last time Ron had brought flowers home had been two years ago when she had become Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They were usually Ron’s sign that he was proud of her for something. Now Hermione only felt guiltier.

Ron snapped her attention back to their conversation. “Hermione!” He still didn’t appear mad, just overtly concerned. “I went to your office and your assistant said you were in a meeting. Plus, she hadn’t seen the kids all day. Not knowing what to do, I waited. For two hours.”

Hermione’s palms started to sweat and she rubbed her hands together, trying to ease her tension. “Harry and I got lunch after the meeting,” she said weakly.

“So I heard,” Ron continued. “But here’s where it gets weird.” As he spoke, he meandered into the kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cabinet. “I wandered around the Ministry for another thirty minutes and eventually ran into Harry.” He turned on the sink and got himself a glass of water. He chugged it for what seemed like a whole minute, Hermione growing more anxious with each passing second. Finally, he lowered the glass from his lips. “Harry wouldn’t tell me a single thing. Just insisted on me talking to you."

Hermione gulped.

“So,” Ron implored, “where were you all day?”

The palms of Hermione's hands grew sweaty again, just like they had before her Minister speech.  She knew she was in the wrong, and admitting that to Ron was going to be difficult, but it had to be done.  Obscuring the truth was the same as lying.  

“We were at the Malfoy Manor,” Hermione regretfully confessed.

Ron slammed his cup of water onto the kitchen counter, causing the glass to shatter. “You took the children to Malfoy’s? Merlin’s beard, Hermione, what were you thinking?”

She rushed to the kitchen to clean up the mess that Ron had made. With a swish and flick of her wand, the shards of glass floated in the air and landed in the trash, on top of the flowers. Hermione scrambled to clean up the mess Ron had made, and the even bigger one she had caused herself.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” Hermione resigned. She knew the justification was weak, but it was all she had at the moment.

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. His red hair paled in comparison to the crimson anger boiling on his face. “I understand if you didn’t want to go to Mum, but you had other choices! Last time I checked, we know plenty of other people. You know what I think about Malfoy and his son!”

Hermione looked down ashamedly, but something suddenly clicked for her.  Deep down, she must have subconsciously wanted Rose to befriend Scorpius.  After hearing Ron's belief in the rumor, she must have wanted to prove him wrong.  It didn't justify her actions, but was her desire so bad?  It had been nearly two decades since the end of the war, and it was high time to move on from these prejudices on both sides. If muggle-borns aren’t discriminated against based on their parents’ magical abilities, then the children of Death Eaters should not be judged for their parent’s actions either. Parents don’t determine a child’s worth.

Ron had always had a heart of gold, and despite his pure-blood status, he had never once adopted the foul belief system of blood hierarchy. Yet, he could be irritably thick in other issues. The enduring hatred between him and Malfoy she could understand. Ron hadn’t had the opportunity to interact with him the way that she had.  And he hadn't witnessed the way that Malfoy had just taken care of her.  Furthermore, the fact that Malfoy even approached her in the first place was evidence that Malfoy seemed to have changed. But she wasn’t here to argue that. There was an innocent young boy who needed the opportunity to live without unjust preconceptions. Hermione knew what it felt like to be judged by others based on their parents. She refused to let this happen in her household.

“Scorpius is a good kid. And if you give him a chance, you’ll see how preposterous these rumors are,” Hermione reasoned, trying to keeping her voice level and calm. She hoped to instill sound reasoning into Ron.

Ron came forward, but instead of speaking, his eyes became dark as they fell upon the bump on her forehead. He swooped the hair out of her face, exposing the bump in plain sight. He brushed his thumb against it, but Hermione quickly drew his hand away.

Ron looked at her incredulously, “’Mione, what the hell happened?"

She looked away. She and Ron were already dealing with one issue, so she certainly did not want to the can of flobberworms that were her impeding toxic thoughts.

But Ron did not let up with his questioning. “Did Malfoy do this to you?”

“Of course not!” Hermione objected. “He may have been a monster back at school, but I can assure you that he’s nothing like that now. In fact, he was the one who helped me afterwards.”

As soon as Hermione uttered the words, Ron seemed perturbed. Ron had always been quite protective of her, so it must have irked him to know that whatever had happened to her, he was not there to “save” her. Especially if Malfoy had been the one to swoop in instead.

“Mighty fine of him,” Ron jeered. “I’ll make sure to invited him over for a cup of tea as a thanks! Seven years of bullying is now completely forgiven!”

Hermione did her best not to match his anger level.  “It was actually very sweet of him,” she insisted. Hermione wasn’t quite sure why she was so quick to defend Malfoy, yet here she was, debating with her husband over their mutual enemy… former enemy.

Ron did not seem satisfied with her response, but he started to ease up, ever so slightly. “Look Hermione, I can’t believe I still have to say this, but I don’t like Malfoy one bit."  

Hermione's regret filled her again.  She started to protest, but Ron raised his hand to stop her before he continued.  "And I don’t trust his son much either. If it looks like a Malfoy and sounds like a Malfoy, it’s probably a pure-blooded git. So don’t expect me to be thrilled that you and our children are suddenly chummy with this family.”

Hermione nodded in understanding, hoping to end the conversation for the time being, but knowing that she wasn't done hoping that she could change Ron's mind for the future.  Now that the children going to Malfoy's was out in the open, somehow she would figure out a way to help Ron see that Malfoy was different now so that Rose and Scorpius could continue their developing friendship.

In theory, she understood Ron’s hesitation. He was trying to protect the family in what he thought was the right way, but the children needed a friend too. Being the children of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger came with its implications. Every child in the wizarding world knew of their parents and their successes. In a way, they were just as affected by their family legacy as Scorpius had.

Minus the terrible rumors.  

But then a pounding from a door down the hall suddenly interrupted her thoughts.

“Mum! Dad! Let me out of my room!” Rose bellowed.

Hermione sighed, while Ron looked down at his feet.

“We’re not done discussing this,” Hermione softly whispered. “The children like Scorpius, as do I. You may not like Malfoy, but at least give his son a chance.”

Ron mumbled, and Hermione figured that was the best form of agreement she was going to get at the moment.

“Alohomora,” Hermione recited, releasing the children from their room.

***

Dinner turned out to be an unsurprisingly tense event for Ron and Hermione, but the children remained oblivious of their conflict. Rose willingly filled every empty silence by recounting the events of her day. Her face lit up with each new story. They had spent the day playing hide and seek in the massive manor, exploring the extensive library, and flying on Scorpius’s toy brooms. Overall, it sounded like a completely innocent day of fun. Every so often, Hugo jumped in, but it was apparent that it had been Rose and Scorpius who had connected during the day. 

Hermione listened eagerly, sincerely thrilled to hear about her daughter’s new friendship. Ron, on the other hand, spent the majority of the meal staring down at his food. He made sure to feign excitement every now and then, but he did a poor job of hiding his true feelings. Each time Rose said Scorpius’s name – or worse, Malfoy’s – Ron tore into his meat aggressively, and his ears burned fiery red.

“But then when Mum got there,”

Hermione’s head jolted up. She gave a quick jerk “no” of her head, desperately trying to stop Rose from completing the sentence. The dinner table was the last place she wanted to discuss her fainting with Ron. He knew enough about her injury for the time being, and it was for the best if the children stayed in the dark about its true cause. She didn’t want to burden them with the horrors that occasionally flooded her mind.

Fortunately, Rose caught on. She paused for a moment, confused by her mother’s frantic plea, but thankfully submitted. Ron remained utterly unaware of their minor pause in conversation.  

“Umm, Mum got there, and we had to go home.” Rose then jumped up in her chair and spoke directly to her father.   She shook his arm, commanding his full attention. “I already can’t wait to go back! Mr. Malfoy says I’ll be able to go back sometime, so can I?”

Her eyes darted back and forth between both parents, awaiting a response. Ron looked directly at Hermione, clearly not pleased with the predicament. If Ron had his way at the moment, he would certainly say no. Hermione wasn’t going to give up on convincing him to give Scorpius a chance. But before she said yes to Rose, Hermione needed to make sure to get Ron on board first.  It was the least she could do at this point.  Ron reasonably mistrusted Malfoy, and Hermione had always done the same. Things can change, though.

“Your father and I will have to talk about it,” Hermione finally answered.

***

After a few rounds of family exploding snap, the children went to bed, and Ron and Hermione prepared to do the same, cautiously avoiding one another. Things had eased up since dinner, but Ron was still rightfully agitated.  

Finally relaxing in bed, Hermione recounted the events of the day. Goodness, her first day on the job felt painfully long. It seemed as if everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Except for with Malfoy. He was the surprising success of the day. Despite her worse fears, the children had a lovely time at his house. But there was one moment of the day that she couldn’t quite figure out.

Why wouldn’t Malfoy let her read The Fountain of Fair Fortune to Scorpius?

“Accio Beedle the Bard.” She whispered under her breath. The worn old book came flying off a nearby bookshelf, and almost hit Ron in the head as it raced towards her.

“Careful!” Ron cried, but Hermione immediately turned to the story of The Fountain and Fair Fortune, reading it for the first time in ages.

Curiosity coming over him, Ron crawled into bed and peeked at the title of her book. “Beedle the Bard? Haven’t you had enough of that book for a lifetime?”

It was true - the stories of Beedle the Bard were still permanently engrained in her memory. She really didn’t need the book to remember the story, but she thought that maybe actually rereading the tale would spark some idea of why Malfoy was barring it.

“Just some light reading before bed after a stressful day,” Hermione rationalized.

Despite how many times she had read it, the story had not changed.

Once a year, an enclosed magical garden selected one person to enter its gates and compete to reach a fountain that blessed its bathers with ‘fair fortune forever more.’ Three witches, Asha, Altheda, and Amata, befriended each other and agreed to help if one of them was chosen for the journey. Each had an ailment they were longing to remedy – Asha was sick with an incurable illness, Altehda was poor after being robbed from an evil sorcerer, and Amata was filled with grief due to the departure of her beloved. A long vine came out and selected Asha, who dragged along Altheda and Amata, but accidentally became entangled with a fourth person, a muggle knight named Sir Luckless.

They encountered many tasks on their way to the fountain and had nearly reached their destination when Asha grew breathless and collapsed. Using the herbs from the surrounding garden, Altheda quickly drew up a potion that healed Asha of her malady. Asha was no longer sick, and Altheda could use these newfound capabilities to bring her out of poverty. As for Amata, she realized how cruel and faithless her old lover was, and no longer felt heartbroken. Since all three witches were already cured of their initial plights, they agreed that the chivalrous knight should be the one to bathe in the fountain’s magical water. He lavished in its waters, and when he emerged from the fountain, asked Amata for her hand in marriage. She delightfully accepted.

The four lived happily ever after, never realizing the fountain never truly had magical enchantments at all.

Story seemed absolutely harmless to Hermione. It told the pertinent tale of how people are in charge of their own destinies and cannot rely on magic to solve all of their issues. Pure-bloods, even more than other wizards, had a tendency to believe that magic could be used to fix everything. Perhaps Malfoy had an issue with this theme?

Hermione was mid-thought when she felt Ron’s warm breath exhaling beside her. “The Fountain of Fair Fortune, huh?” Ron questioned, raising an eyebrow. “I never liked that one as a kid. Always thought that ‘Sir Luckless’ was a pretty daft name for the knight. Pretty lucky of him to run into those witches and then end up marrying one of them, huh?”

Suddenly it started to click with Hermione, but she didn’t want to complicate Ron in this. He had enough reasons to distrust Malfoy, and she wasn’t going to voluntarily provide him with another.

“Yes, quite the silly name.” Hermione closed the book and placed it on the nightstand beside her. She gave Ron a swift kiss on the cheek, quite startling Ron. Their differences were far from resolved, but she needed to end the conversation quickly so she could now mull over her thoughts.

Ron announced for the lights to disappear, but Hermione remained awake, combing through the details of The Fountain of Fair Fortune, hoping to find any other reason why Malfoy would reasonably hate the story. But the more she contemplated it, the more it became hard to dispute. There was only one logical reason why Malfoy didn’t want Scorpius to read it.

Sir Luckless, a muggle, proposes to Amata, a witch.

For the second time that day, Hermione found herself questioning her judgment about Malfoy. Granted, she ended up being wrong about the first one, but she was having a more difficult time finding a way to justify Malfoy’s actions with this. Despite everything he had done today, did Malfoy truly still believe in the hierarchy of blood status?

Hermione tossed and turned in bed, debating this in her head. Malfoy had been a Death Eater and did end up marrying a pure-blood. She admittedly didn’t know much about Astoria, but the cards were not stacking up in Malfoy’s favor at the moment. Yet, why was she still so inclined to trust him?

“Hey, Mione?” Hermione heard in a rough, wrecked voice. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one doing some late night thinking. 

“Yeah?” she muttered back.

“You know I love you, right?”

Ron remained silent for a moment, but Hermione didn’t say anything in return. She was waiting to hear if he would say something else.

“We have to be a team, though. They're our children.” he stammered.

“I know.” Hermione resigned, turning over in bed, embracing Ron in her favorite position.

She closed her eyes, but her mind went immediately back to Malfoy. What angle was he playing at? He had been so kind to her. But what if all of this really was a part of a greater plan to gain her trust and then use her to infiltrate the Ministry? It seemed like such a long shot, but she needed answers. 

Chapter Text

“You sincerely thought that I was a changed man?” Draco Malfoy laughed uproariously at such an absurd comment. “Use that clever brain of yours, you filthy little mudblood!”

Hermione was trapped inside her office of Minister of Magic, Malfoy pointing a wand directly to her chest. He stepped forward, but she avoided closing the distance left between them, remaining resolutely behind her desk. She too had her wand raised, prepared to defend herself. Behind him echoed urgent poundings on the door, begging entry.

“Malfoy, you’re not like this,” Hermione asserted.

“And that’s where you’re so wrong, Granger,” Malfoy countered. “Silly girl. A runespoor can’t change its stripes.”

Her opponent fired his wand, and Hermione ducked as fast as she could, but not fast enough. There was a flash of green light and everything went black.

Hermione woke up startled, sweat glistening down her face. She outstretched her arm in bed to grab Ron for comfort, but as she expected, he was already gone. It was the first weekend of summer holiday for Hogwarts students, so the shop was bound to be teeming with children eager to replenish their joke supplies and check out the new inventory. Alone in bed, Hermione recounted the horrors of her nightmare and her discovery from the night prior. She didn’t want to believe that Malfoy was the same menace she had known in childhood, but now even her dreams were conveying otherwise.

Fortunately, Hermione would not have to be faced with making a decision on this matter today. It was the start of the weekend, and though she had just started the job, Hermione was more than ready for a day off. Well, as much of a day off as permitted. At any moment, Alice could firecall her into the office to handle whatever business had to be immediately attended to. Hermione prayed that nothing would come up today. All she asked for was just one more day to curl up with a book and spend time with Rose and Hugo before she sunk into her Minister responsibilities. 

The day was generally peaceful. The children caused a few messes here and there (Hugo had insisted on riding his toy broom inside, citing that Scorpius is allowed to do so), and Alice had firecalled her a few times to handle a couple legislative actions, but nothing that required her to leave the comfort of her home. It was exactly the day that Hermione needed after the never-ending disasters of yesterday.

Throughout the day, though, her curiosity about Malfoy continued to pester her thoughts. It would have been a lot easier to block from her attention had Rose not brought up Scorpius every twenty minutes. She had a unique magical ability of inserting his name into every conversation possible. Apparently the boy had shared lots of facts and information with her yesterday, which she now felt necessary to insert at any given moment. Hermione supposed that was the result of being left alone in the Malfoy Manor with no friends and an endless sea of books.

At the end of the day, Ron came home, absolutely exhausted. When he had arrived that morning, there had already been a long line of children waiting anxiously for the store doors to open. From that moment forward, the stream of zealous shoppers was endless, impatient to grab their hands on the latest Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes creations. Apparently, the new skiving snack boxes had been a particularly good seller, and Ron was over the moon.

Hermione tried to pay Ron the attention his excitement deserved, but she remained distracted. She adamantly believed that people could change, but was Draco Malfoy the exception? These chasing thoughts lingered for the rest of the weekend, and most of the day on Monday when her first full week as Minister arrived.

Hermione’s desk was completely flooded with paperwork that she had unknowingly neglected over the weekend. She had had a lovely time at home, but she had no idea that not coming to the office would mean being inundated with briefings, updates, and legislation.

Since Friday, the pile of papers seemed to have quadrupled. Hermione did her best to sift through everything, but it was difficult when she habitually lost track of her thoughts. In the process, she grew increasingly frustrated at herself. Hermione knew better than to not come into work on the weekend. It should have been obvious that there were things that needed her attention!

Meanwhile, her preoccupation with Malfoy was becoming increasingly detrimental. She was paying him more thought than she had in the past nineteen years combined. After the war ended, she did her best to pretend he didn’t exist, his memory and actions being too painful for her to remember. But somehow, the last five days had changed that. He was now all that she thought about.

When she looked at the surrounding facts, it seemed undeniable that Malfoy had grown up to be a prejudiced emulation of his father. And Hermione had always been one to trust facts. But his actions from Friday countered all of this. He may not have been the friendliest of people, but it was an improvement over anything she had experienced with him at Hogwarts. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and it was irritating her beyond relief.

Just then, Hermione was startled by a knock on the door. “Minister Granger?” Alice asked, cautiously, creaking the door open. “Hebinizer needs his report back before lunch,” she informed Hermione.

Hebinizer… he was the one who had detailed the incidents of underage magic use. She remembered reading that one this morning, but couldn’t quite recall the specifics. She desperately needed to get her act together, or Ron would be proven right that she would be quickly replaced.

“Yes, of course. He’ll have it back by then.” Hermione needed to get her mind off Malfoy as quickly as possible. Perhaps Alice would be able to help. Alice was essentially out the door, when Hermione called her back in. “Alice, I need you to do some research for me.”

“Whatever you need, ma’am.”

“I need you to look up whatever the Ministry has on Draco Malfoy.”

Alice seemed shocked to hear the name, but agreed nevertheless. “Yes, of course. I can pull up the accounts of his trial from after the war.”

No, no. Hermione didn’t want that. She may have avoided his existence as much as possible, but his trial had been inescapable. What she really needed to know is what Malfoy had been up to the past few years. With him being a former Death Eater and what not, the ministry was bound to have kept tabs on his whereabouts. “That’s not necessary, Alice. Just give me whatever we have from the past five years. That should be sufficient.”

Alice nodded and left Hermione to her paperwork. Temporarily cleared of Malfoy, Hermione felt like herself for the first time in what seemed like ages, returning to her normal attentive self, efficiently sorting through the day’s reports.

Hermione tediously went through each account, proclamation, and update swiftly yet diligently. Making up for all her lost time, Hermione even worked through lunch. Harry had stopped by her office to check in on her, but she dismissed him, rationalizing that she simply had too much to do. Harry probably just wanted to see how she was feeling after Friday seeing they hadn’t been able to discuss it with each other yet, but she had priorities bigger than herself right now. She’d find a time to update him eventually.

As the end of the day neared, Hermione looked at her desk, completely satisfied with her efficiency. The pile of papers had dwindled almost completely, and the reviewed documents were annotated, cross-filed for subject and priority level, and stacked neatly in a corner. Hermione was reviewing one of the final budget reports when Alice returned. Fully engrossed in her work, she had miraculously managed to forget that she had even sent Alice on this mission.

Before Alice could speak, Hermione welcomed her inside and had her take a seat on the opposite side of her desk. As Alice walked in, Hermione noticed that she didn’t have a big stack on Malfoy as she had secretly hoped. In fact, everything was continued in a slim manila folder.

“I apologize for the delay, ma'am.  I had a meeting with a writer of the Daily Prophet that I had completely forgotten about.  Anyway, I went through all our archives on Mr. Malfoy, but all I could find were his tax returns. He seems to have fallen completely off the map except for this annual obligation.”

Hermione grabbed the papers and perused the materials. Looking at the figures, Hermione became quite shocked. She had always known that Malfoy was wealthy, but goodness gracious, even this amount of money superseded her expectations.

“I can assure you that this is all the Ministry has on him, Minister,” Alice continued, Hermione half listening as she continued to skim through the information in front of her. “If you want information on Lucius Malfoy, there’s heaps more, but I don’t know why you’re suddenly so curious about him?”

“Just, uh, following up on something that caught my eye is all,” Hermione justified. “Thank you, Alice. That’s all for the day. Feel free to go home whenever.”

Alice left, leaving Hermione to examine the tax returns in greater detail. She doubted she would be able to find much, but it was all she had at the present moment. The papers turned out to be unsurprisingly dull. The Malfoys had accumulated a seemingly unending amount of money and didn’t appear to be doing much with it lately. Nothing in the documents seemed unusual, except for the bi-weekly person that Malfoy employed. Malfoy had plenty of house elves to do the cooking, cleaning, gardening, and whatever else he made those poor creatures endure. It begged the question what exactly Malfoy needed a single person to do so regularly.  

Regardless, even with this new information, it provided Hermione with no further explanation of what was going on behind the closed gates of Malfoy Manor. Everything seemed to be a complete mystery in that household, and Hermione was determined to uncover it.

Hermione stuck around the office late, catching up on the final documents. She was in the process of wrapping up when an owl tapped on her window. It couldn’t have been an interdepartmental memo seeing as which those didn’t travel by owl, and even if they did, she doubted that there were many people still in the building at this time.

She opened the window, a sleek black owl swooping in with a notecard, depositing it on her desk, and promptly flying away. Hermione returned to her desk and sat in the exact location she had spent countless hours that day. The notecard was on firm parchment with the Malfoy crest embossed on the back. Flipping it over, Hermione read the words scribbled by Malfoy himself.

Scorpius requests that Rose returns to the Manor at your earliest convenience. Bring her by whenever so he will stop rambling on about her.

Hermione read the note twice over before sitting down in her chair to contemplate its significance. Its meaning was fairly straightforward – Scorpius wanted Rose to come over again. But Hermione analyzed each of Malfoy’s words for its inherent implications. There was absolutely no warmth in the note, and he didn’t seem overly pleased extending the invitation. Despite his clear malice, Hermione did not want this to prevent Rose from fostering this friendship with Scorpius.

She had to get to the bottom of this with Malfoy. And if she couldn’t figure it out herself, she’d just have to ask him herself. Hermione grabbed the note, and apparated to the Malfoy Manor, determined to put this mystery to rest.

***

Hermione reached the gates of Malfoy Manor, arms crossed, anxiously waiting as Malfoy strolled down the path. As he approached, he did not seem completely thrilled to see her unannounced.

“Three times in a week, Granger? To what do I owe the pleasure?” Malfoy mocked, a heavy sense of sarcasm in his voice.

Malfoy’s disdain triggered Hermione, so her intended calm demeanor instantly vanished. “Oh, get off it Malfoy,” Hermione snapped. “You know why I’m here.”

Malfoy looked back and forth in feigned investigation. “If I recall correctly, I invited Rose, yet I don’t see her anywhere. If this is not critical, I have much more pressing issues I must return to inside.”

Hermione remained locked behind the gates, seemingly unwelcome from entering the actual premises. It wasn’t exactly how she imagined having this conversation, but it was probably for the best. If Malfoy did turn out to still be a prejudiced prat, then she’d be significantly safer with a barricade between them.

“Before Rose has a chance of coming back, I need some answers, Malfoy.” Hermione insisted.

Malfoy faked a yawn and rolled his eyes. “Get on with it then,” Malfoy exasperated. “I’m growing quite bored of your inability to express your desires up front.”

Hermione was growing equally frustrated, but for entirely different reasons. She dug into her bag and found her copy of Beedle The Bard. She banged it against the gate for Malfoy to see. “What problem do you have with this book?”

Malfoy closed the distance between him and the gate, but just enough so that he could discern the book’s title. He sneered upon reading it. “And what do you care what I have to say about it?”

“You wouldn’t let me read it to Scorpius the other day!” Hermione explained. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would it?”

Hermione flipped open the book to the words she had replayed in her head hundreds of times the past few days.

“’Flushed with success, Sir Luckless begged for her hand and her heart, and Amata, no less delighted, realised that she had found a man worthy of them.’”

She slammed the book closed and looked up at Malfoy expectantly, but his face remained neutral. Heat rushed to Hermione’s face as she edged towards outrage. His frigid behavior and refusal to convey any sort of significant contribution to the conversation was becoming insufferable. They stood in silence for a moment until Hermione finally piped up. “Well!”

“Well?” Malfoy outburst. “I am yet again waiting upon you to explain what it is that you want!”

“Admit it Malfoy! You won’t let Scorpius read ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune’ because a muggle knight marries a witch!” Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and threw her hands up in disbelief. “To think that I had even considered that you may have actually changed a bit in twenty years!”

Malfoy scoffed and finally approached the gate. He placed his hands on the railing, causing Hermione to take a precautionary step back. She placed her hand in her pocket, grabbing her wand just in case it was about to become necessary.

“Quite the theory you have there, Granger, but it looks like you’re the one who hasn’t changed. Yet again jumping to conclusions and assuming that I’m the one to blame. Believe it or not, there can be multiple reasons for not wanting a child to read a story.”

Hermione continued to stare at him, unconvinced. Her grip on her wand remained steadfast.

Malfoy began to slowly pace along the interior of the gate, his even-toned drawl matching his footsteps. “In fact, ‘The Fountain of Fair Fortune’ is Scorpius’ favorite story, and he reads it quite regularly. I just didn’t want you to read it to him.”

“Because I’m a mudblood,” Hermione retorted, but as soon as the words escaped her lips, Malfoy froze in his tracks and winced.

He stood there motionless, contemplating his response. After several seconds, he firmly responded. “No, because…” He paused again, and when Malfoy resumed, he had a newfound scorn to his voice. “I can’t explain it to you, Hermione, but it wasn’t the proper time for Scorpius to hear that story.”

Now Hermione was the one who winced. Malfoy stared at her. “Still not satisfied?”

“No, you’ve just never called me Hermione before.”

Malfoy’s upper lip twitched. “Yes, well consider it a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

Malfoy turned his back to her and started walking back to the mansion. Hermione remained in her spot, dumbstruck from the past few moments of the conversation. After several paces, he turned around one final time. “You’re still here so I take it you’re still not fully convinced. If I was the demon you so desperately want to believe I still am, you wouldn’t have made it through Friday, let alone this conversation.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Nevertheless, Scorpius would sincerely like to see Rose again. Please consider it.”

He continued down the path, closing the door behind him once he was inside. At a loss for words, Hermione returned home, still filled with questions, but prepared to approach Ron with a new proposition.

Chapter Text

Hermione walked through the door of their home and noticed that the children were out of the living room, probably already getting ready for bed. It must have been much later than she had expected. She knew she had stayed at work late, but even this seemed excessive. If she was going to have any time with the children anymore, she was going to have to adjust her work schedule. Taking the weekends completely off was definitely no longer an option. 

She wandered farther inside, where she discovered Ron in the kitchen. He was quietly humming to himself as he enchanted various instruments to scrub the dirty dishes. Ron must have made the children dinner already and everything too. Now that she thought of it, she certainly should have owled Ron warning him that she would be so late. Hermione made a mental note to do this in the future, knowing fully well that this was surely about to become a semi-regular part of their routine.

Hermione grabbed her wand, instructing a sponge to wipe down the surrounding counters. Noticing the movement, Ron turned around, and smirked at Hermione. Hermione was relieved to see that he didn’t seem to be mad. With any luck, she could keep him in this mood so that she could bring up her plan.

“You’re home,” he stated simply.

“I should’ve said I would be late,” she admitted. She slumped into one of the kitchen table chairs, removing her shoes and allowing herself to settle in. “There was a lot more to handle than I expected. And then something popped up right at the last minute.”

Ron set down his wand, pulling out the chair next to her and taking a seat. “You’re Minister of Magic. It’s not supposed to be an easy job. Unless you want to Fudge it up.”

He bared a full tooth smile, and even Hermione laughed along at the horrible joke. “For owning a joke shop, you sure do manage to tell a bunch of lame dad jokes.”

“Every joke is deserving of being told. Even the lame ones.” Ron extended his hand onto Hermione’s thigh and started to caress it ever so gently. Hermione gazed down as he did so, following as his finger started to form various swirls. She only looked up when she heard him speak again. “So, round two, huh? Better than the first?”

Hermione let out a small laugh. “Much better. Hard to be worse, if I’m being honest. I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it soon.”

Ron removed his hand from her thigh, and grabbed her hand. “You always do.” He squeezed it once in solidarity with her.

At the moment, he was being supportive, and Hermione knew that now was the time to discuss Scorpius if she had any hope of being successful. She rested her head on his shoulder, completely bridging the gap between them. “Malfoy owled me. Scorpius wants to see Rose again.”

The fingers she had been gripping onto slipped out of her grasp as Ron removed his hand from hers. “And did you respond?” he questioned, clearly trying to maintain their moment of serenity.

“I haven’t told him yes or no yet,” Hermione replied. She figured it was probably best to completely avoid talking about the Beedle The Bard incident, and just move onto the question at hand.

“Hermione, my mind hasn’t changed since Friday…” Ron began.

“I know.” Hermione now sat up in the chair so that she could face Ron directly. “But I’ve been thinking about it. Regardless of what happens, Scorpius will be attending Hogwarts with Rose in the fall. Shouldn’t we figure out now if he’s a good influence before she’s off for a year without us around?”

Ron’s face twisted. “You know this wouldn’t have been an issue if she hadn’t already met him.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” she rationalized but knew in her heart that he was correct. “But even so, that doesn’t change where we’re at now.”

“Where’s a time turner when you need one?” Ron joked. “Surely the Minister of Magic has access to whatever time turners are still in existence?”

“Don’t be silly, Ron. You know all the time turners were destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries,” Hermione insisted. “Besides, time turners can be dangerous, so we won’t be dealing with any of those any time soon.”

Hermione paused to see if Ron would respond, but when he sustained his silence, she continued with her plea. “We can go over with Rose and make sure that she’s safe. You still have all your Auror training, so even if Malfoy attacks, you’ll be able to defend us.”

Ron gave her the side-eye. He sighed, as he stood up from the chair and placed his stitched together fingers on top his head. The kitchen remained in a standstill and Hermione waiting on pins and needles for him to speak up. With a resigned look, Ron eventually responded. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right about Scorpius going to be at Hogwarts regardless. Might as well check out the situation for ourselves.”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to stand up, which she did eagerly, peaking up on her toes to kiss Ron on the cheek. “I’ll owl Malfoy and let him now. Scorpius will be so pleased. I’ll go check in on Rose and see if she’s still awake.”

Hermione was fluttering out of the kitchen, when Ron grabbed her hand. “I know I’m saying ‘yes’ to Rose going back to the Malfoy Manor, but this is only for the one time right now. And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m not still mad about her and Hugo going over in the first place.” She gave a little nod, and Ron let go of her fingertips, allowing Hermione to share the news with her daughter.

When she reached Rose’s door, Hermione give a light knock, giving Rose a warning before her entrance. Rose didn’t respond, so Hermione cracked the door open, slowly entering. She tiptoed as she approached Rose’s bed, yanking away the covers when she arrived. As expected, Rose was pretend asleep, gripping onto a book for dear life.

“You should be asleep by now,” Hermione toyed.

“And you said you’d be home for dinner,” Rose retorted, sounding disappointed by her mother’s absence.

“I know, dear. It’s going to be different now that I’m Minister.” Rose frowned slightly, and Hermione sat down on the bed to be closer to her. “I know you’re upset, but I think I have a way to cheer you up. How about on Saturday, you go back to the Malfoy Manor?”

Rose immediately perked up and wrapped her arms around her mother. Still embracing hard, Rose chimed in excitement, “Really? Oh thank you, thank you, mother!”

“No need to thank just me. Me and your father.”

Rose continued to ramble on in gratitude, ignoring what Hermione had just said. “Oh, I just can’t wait to see Scorpius again. He promised to show me his family’s collection of magical artifacts. Apparently they have an entire room full of them!"

It brought Hermione so much joy knowing that her daughter was sincerely thrilled to return, confirming to Hermione that she was making the right choice for her, even if Ron was hesitant. “You must enjoy being with Scorpius then?”

“Oh, yes mother!” Rose responded, her entire face lighting up. “I feel like he’s the first person I can talk with so earnestly.” Hermione looked at Rose incredulously. “Besides, you and Dad of course!” Rose made sure to clarify.

“I have no doubt about that, dear, but I what about Albus?”

Rose wrestled around in her bed a bit, adjusting the blankets around her. “Albus is great, but he’s my cousin. Scorpius is a friend that I actually chose. Plus, I bet Albus would really hit it off with Scorpius.”

Hermione smiled to herself. Ron was having a difficult enough time trusting Malfoy, so she could only imagine what Harry would think about having his son befriend Scorpius. “Let’s take this one person at a time right now,” Hermione assured Rose. “But we’ll all go on Saturday.”

Hermione got up to leave Rose’s room, but Rose stopped her. “We? Is Hugo coming back, too?”

Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned around to face Rose. “No, sweetie, just you, me, and your father.”

Rose tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “Dad? Won’t that be awkward?” Hermione gave Rose a quizzical look. “I mean, Dad hates Mr. Malfoy.”

Hermione closed her eyes to think, surprised by Roses latest comment. How much did Rose actually know? She did her best to play it off, “And what would make you say that?”

“Well, at dinner the other night, Dad didn’t seem overly interested at anything I had to say about Scorpius. He didn’t say a single thing the entire time. I don’t think Hugo noticed, but it’s obvious that Dad didn’t like him. Plus I know they didn’t get along at school.”

That last observation intrigued Hermione the most. She and Ron had never hid the details of the war from the children. Rose was about to enter Hogwarts, and her parents had been barely older than her when they started helping defeat Voldemort. Ron had originally been hesitant to share so much with them, but Hermione insisted that knowing about the history from a young age would ensure a fuller comprehension. But even after exchanging the stories from the past, Ron and Hermione had never mentioned many Death Eaters by name, including Malfoy.

Had Rose heard the name somewhere else? Hermione sincerely doubted it. It may be nineteen years after the war, but people were still heavily affected. Many of the Death Eaters were still locked away in Azkaban. Only a select few had managed to wrangle themselves out by now or miraculously avoid the institution completely.  Lucius Malfoy had fallen into the second category, but that was only because he abdicated right before the end of the battle and had willingly revealed names of fellow Death Eaters during his trial. But the masses as a whole never talked about the Death Eaters anymore. It was like before how no one would say Voldemort’s name. Naming them could bring them back. Or bring back the horrors of their actions.

So maybe Malfoy had made a comment when she had been over. Leave it to Malfoy to make a snide comment about a child’s father to her face.

But then Hermione noticed the corner of the book that Rose was subtly trying to hide under her covers. Hermione peeled back the sheets.

“Mum, no!”

But it was too late. Hermione grabbed the book. “A History of The Wizarding Wars: Part 2.”

Hermione didn’t need to ask where Rose got the book. All of Hermione’s books on the war were stashed away in the giant library she had in her office at work, and, miraculously, this was a title that she herself had not (yet) read.

“Rose, if you have questions about the war, you know that you can ask me and your father about it,” Hermione said earnestly. She was certain that Scorpius must have leant her the book, which meant that the two of them had discussed the war in some capacity. Yet Rose seemed completely unaware of the rumors about Scorpius’ parentage. Could it be that Scorpius was testing out the waters to see what she already believed? He was probably just searching for someone he could trust.

Rose sat up in bed, but remained looking down at the covers. “I don’t understand. The Malfoys were on the other side of the war. Like they actually supported Voldemort. The book has an entire chapter dedicated to Scorpius’ family. So why did you introduce me to Scorpius?”

It was a fair question – the same question that Ron had been begging her to answer to for the past few days. But Ron had an entire back history with Malfoy that would be hard to erase. Well, not completely erase. They couldn’t entirely forget everything that Malfoy and his family had done. The words on Hermione’s arm and the scars in her memory would forever serve as permanent reminders. But that didn’t mean that people couldn’t see the errors in their ways. At least that’s what she was still defending to herself.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves on her blouse and grabbed Rose’s hand. Rose’s eyes immediately shot down to Hermione’s forearm. Nearly twenty years later, and Hermione still seldom exposed her arm to reveal her mark. She feared that looking at it would bring back the memories. But the memories were currently in the forefront of her mind. Perhaps embracing the past instead of hiding it was the next step on her road towards mental acceptance.

“Rose, dear,” Hermione began with a sigh. “The war was complicated. Even I still struggle with some aspects of it. But it seems to me that Scorpius is nothing like his wretched grandfather, and especially his great aunt. As for Mr. Malfoy, I’m still figuring that one out, but that’s why both your father and I will be joining you on Saturday. We want to make sure that you are completely safe, but still get to be friends with Scorpius. Okay?”

Rose seemed to have infinitely more questions, but just nodded her head in agreement.

Hermione gave Rose a kiss on the forehead and tucked her back into bed. Before leaving she made sure to take the book with her. She left the room, turning off the lights as she exited.

As she clicked the door shut, she heard Ron in the living room, cursing over an enchanted game of wizard chess. His fits thumped onto the table in frustration, and Hermione decided she was better off going into their bedroom instead of lounging around in the living room.

Hermione clung onto the book as she settled herself on top of the bedspread. The spine of the book appeared worn, clearly having been read a multitude of times. Who had been the one who had so diligently perused these pages? Rose had only had the book for a few days, and though she may be a voracious reader, even she couldn’t have given the book that much attention in such a short period of time. So there was someone in the Malfoy family mulling over the details of the war. Logically, it was Scorpius, trying to understand the horrors that people faced that left them fearful of the rise of another Dark Lord. But he wouldn’t have been able to get the book himself. Which meant that either Malfoy or Astoria had been the one to bring the book into the household in the first place.

Slumping in bed, Hermione cracked the book open and began reading from the introduction. She carefully examined each word, determining which side of the war the author may have been on. If the Malfoys had a book from the war, it would seem likely that they would want to have it from the perspective of the Death Eaters. But try as she may, Hermione couldn’t detect any author’s bias in its presentation.

She flipped through the pages, but kept on wondering what Malfoy had told Scorpius about the war. He clearly wasn’t hiding from his son what he had done during the war -- which makes sense seeing Scorpius obviously knew about the rumors, so of course he must also know that his father would have been on the other side. But how much did Scorpius exactly know? And how did Scorpius feel about it?

Hermione remembered that Rose had said that there was an entire chapter on the Malfoys. Unable to resist any longer, Hermione flipped to the index of the book and traced her finger through the alphabet until she landed on the entry she was looking for, “Malfoy, Draco, page 12, 63, 174, 192, 197-200, 203, 275.”

She flipped to page 12, but the page was just an introductory look at the notable people on either side of the war, her own name appearing on page 11. The picture of herself in the book was from when she was younger, probably back during sixth year. Goodness, she looked so young there in comparison. Her picture was flanked by Harry on the left and Ron on the right. They were all so young back then. Reflecting on it, it really was quite impressive that they had been at the forefront of the battle. Not even out of Hogwarts and already being faced with some of the most difficult situations she had encountered in her entire life.

Hermione brushed her fingers over young Ron’s face. He had been her rock throughout those tumultuous years, during the peak of the struggle and afterwards too when the dust began to settle. Voldemort was defeated, but some Death Eaters remained, and they now had emotional scars that were still in the process of healing. He had been by her side through it all, but lately Hermione just didn’t feel the same connection that she had back then.

Something was holding her back. After the war, they used to spend hours in bed together, just talking, or sometimes laying there completely silently, comforting each other. That was all they needed. But she had yet to tell him about the incident at work the other day. Or the fainting at the Malfoy Manor. She was starting to feel like she needed to hide things from him because they were no longer on the same page. 

She loved Ron, but something had changed.  Things had been difficult before, but ever since she decided to become Minister, everything felt like an uphill battle with him at the moment, even when they weren’t arguing about Malfoy.  

Hermione turned her attention to the young picture of Malfoy on the opposite page of her own. The pain and turmoil were etched along his face. There was no denying that Malfoy had been a complete prat when they were younger, but even still, she had never wished that he’d be stuck in such a predicament like he had. What had it been like for him on their side? How much of a choice had he been given? Children are very much the product of their parents, especially when they are younger. Had his experiences in later life really changed him?

She thought back to earlier that evening. He insisted that there’s another reason why he didn’t want Scorpius reading The Fountain of Fair Fortune. In fact, he had winced when she said ‘mudblood.’

Maybe a runespoor can change its stripes.

Chapter Text

The rest of the week progressed without many more issues. Hermione continued to work late, and each evening, it was a crapshoot on whether the children would still be awake -- and whether Ron would be a good or bad mood. She really did feel bad about staying late, but if she was going to be Minister, then she was going to do her job properly. Whenever she tried asking Ron about his mood, though, he always insisted that he was simply stressed about work. Hermione had no doubt that things were undoubtedly chaotic ever since the start of Hogwarts summer vacation. But regardless of how much Ron insisted, Hermione couldn’t deny that she was probably a major contributing factor to his wavering negativity. That and the fact that they would be spending the first part of their weekend with Draco Malfoy.

Saturday morning, a groggy Hermione and a disgruntled Ron got out of bed and prepared for what was bound to be an interesting day. Hermione went immediately into the bathroom, and as she got ready, Hermione became increasingly nervous. She had spent the past few nights reading A History of The Wizarding Wars: Part 2, absorbing as much of the information as she could about what it said about the Malfoy family.

Most of it was information that she already knew. One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, unwavering familial loyalty, powerful ministry connections prior to the war. She found it most interesting to read about Malfoy during the end of their sixth and what was supposed to be her seventh year. The book mentioned how Malfoy had been responsible for allowing entry of the Death Eaters into Hogwarts on the night of Dumbledore’s death, but made sure to note the circumstances – how Malfoy had been selected by Voldemort to do the task as a punishment for his father’s failures the year prior.

By no means did the author make Malfoy out to be the worst of the Death Eaters, but he still didn’t understand his involvement the way she had. He hadn’t been there to witness the deterioration of Malfoy over the course of the year as he struggled with the task. He hadn’t been there as she listened to Harry explain how Malfoy hesitated and couldn’t kill Dumbledore. And he most definitely hadn’t been there as Malfoy didn’t tell Bellatrix that they had in deed captured Harry Potter.

Reading the book had been surprisingly therapeutic for Hermione. She had been hesitant at first, fearful that with each new page, she would relive a different part of the war, increasing her chances of having another mental lapse. But the book was an objective account and helped provided her with the much needed insight that she had been ignoring lately.

They had been key players in something bigger, and now that she was Minister, Hermione was in the forefront of the public’s attention again. Her role of Minister was obviously important and she had no regrets assuming the position, but Hermione hadn’t anticipated what a mental toll it would have on her. As she grew accustomed to it, she was getting into the rhythm of its demands, like being on constant call even on the weekends. The job was demanding and would always remain such, so Hermione would just have to be more aware of her personal needs and open with her struggles. She also made a mental note to grab lunch with Harry soon. With her questioning her comfort with Ron at the moment, she knew he’d be able to help through all this.

As if on queue, Ron knocked on the bathroom door, waiting for his turn to get ready. Hermione quickly wrapped up and moved on to check on the children.

Rose was already waiting in the living room and immediately popped up when she saw her mother. “How much longer til we can go, Mum?”

“Hopefully soon,” she assured her.

Meanwhile, Hugo was seated on the sofa with his arms crossed across his chest. “How come I’m not going?” he pouted.

Hermione sat down on the sofa next to him and put her arm around him. “Rose and Scorpius are the same age, so we’re going to give them a chance to hang out just the two of them. Plus your father is going to drop you off at Lily’s place, so you’ll still have a good day.”

Hugo gave out a short huff. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, not with that attitude,” Hermione assured him.

At that moment, Ron came out of the master suite, robes on and ready to go. “So, I’ll drop off Hugo, and meet you and Rose at the Manor?” Ron confirmed.

“Yes,” agreed Hermione. “So we’ll see you soon.” Hermione quickly embraced Ron and half-heartedly gave him a kiss on the cheek. She returned her focus to Hugo. “Put that smile back on your face for the Potters. Mope all you want, but you know you’ll have a fun time.”

“I know,” Hugo confessed with a resigned sigh.

Ron and Hugo stepped into the fireplace as they disappeared off to Harry and Ginny’s home. Shortly after, Hermione and Rose stood in the same location and called for the Malfoy Manor.

They arrived in a puff, with ash completely covering their clothing. Hermione doubted that the Malfoy fireplace got used too often seeing as which the Malfoys rarely left their residence. Malfoy had wanted her to apparate to the gate like she had done every time prior to this, but Hermione insisted that using the Floo Network was much more convenient than using side along with Rose. Plus, they had actually prearranged this meeting at the Malfoy Manor – a first for them.

“Hello?” Hermione called, searching for someone to greet them in the massive mansion. Off in the distance, Hermione heard the patter of small feet.

From around the corner appeared a house elf. Hermione had seen house elves the last time she was here, but it still annoyed her. She’d have to move the proper treatment of house elves back to the top of her list of priorities as Minister. Nevertheless, the house elf appeared cheerful and she bowed and greeted the guests. “What a pleasure it is to have you back, Mrs. Granger and Miss Granger-Weasley. Master Malfoy will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you very much,” Hermione said politely as she and Rose took a seat on a sofa in the drawing room. While she had been on the Malfoy premises earlier in the week, this was her first time actually back inside the manor after the fainting incident of last week, yet she already felt slightly more at ease. She kept repeating to herself how her perpetual goal was taking steps to improve the wizarding world for her family, wizards and witches, and all magical creatures. And anything worthwhile makes you feel uncomfortable at times. This just happened to be one of those things. Sensing Hermione’s unease, Rose grabbed her mother’s hand in comfort.

After a few moments, two voices began to echo down the hall. As they grew closer, Hermione could identify that it sounded like two male voices, one of which was probably Malfoy, but the other one seemed too deep to belong to Scorpius. A man whom Hermione had never seen before was the first to enter the room. He seemed around ten or so years older than Hermione, and was holding a black bag that rattled of the sound clinking of potion bottles as he moved. Malfoy shortly followed and his expression quickly changed to sour as he gazed Hermione analyzing the man in front of her.

“I’ll be with you in a moment, Granger,” he said snidely, turned back to the original visitor. Malfoy mumbled some words of thanks and shook the man’s hand firmly.

“Best wishes, and I will be back in two weeks,” he responded before disappearing in the fireplace.

With the man gone, Malfoy focused his attention back on Hermione. “You’re early,” he sneered.

Hermione stood up firmly and crossed her arms in indignation. “Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.”

“That sounds like some muggle nonsense logic to me,” Malfoy countered dismissively.

Before Hermione could reply, Scorpius came strolling in, and Rose sprinted over to him, hugging him tightly. Scorpius remained rigid and Rose continued to embrace him.

“Do we hug?” Scorpius asked curiously.

“Must be a Weasley thing,” Malfoy sighed.

Ignoring the older Malfoy, Rose grabbed Scorpius’s hand and lead him down the hall. “Come on, Scorpius! I have so many opinions to share with you about the book!” With a dash, the children left the room.

Malfoy peered up the stairs to ensure that the children were far away before facing Hermione, anger flaring in his eyes. “She better not be talking about The Fountain of Fair Fortune with him,” he threated.

Arms still crossed, Hermione closed some of the distance between them. “For the record, Rose can read whatever books she wants in our household, and I will not prevent her from reading what she desires. And you most certainly have no right to tell my child what she can or cannot read. But lucky for you, I do happen to know what book she actually is talking about.” Hermione dug into her bag and after some shuffling around, found A History of The Wizarding Wars: Part 2. She pulled it out and handed it over to Malfoy. “Any idea why our children are discussing this?”

Malfoy reclaimed the book and flipped through some of the pages before closing it. “Hard to believe, Granger, but it seems for once we actually agree on something. Scorpius is also allowed to read whatever he likes, and for some reason, he finds it quite enjoyable reading about the war. Already has quite the knowledge about you and your friends.” He made sure to add a grimace on his final word.

That may seem like a sufficient response to Malfoy, but Hermione was tired of always skirting around the issues with him. Scorpius was reading books about the war and she needed to know once and for all what was going on inside the secretive walls of the Malfoy Manor. “And what pray tell does your son think about your involvement?” she insisted.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and approached Hermione even closer, completely eliminating the gap between them. He flicked his finger and pressed it pointedly along her upper chest. He was so close to her, she could feel the short breaths fuming out of him. “My son knows about my involvement and understands what my family expected of me back then. Lucky for him, our family no longer holds such a belief. I, on the other had, was a boy in a tough spot. It was over half my life ago, so if you’d let up on the interrogation, Granger, I’d like to finally move past the subject.”

And there it was. As much as Hermione’s brain continued to try to fight it, here was yet another piece of evidence that Malfoy was no longer the prejudiced prat he had been when they were younger. He could definitely use a bit of an attitude change, but at least the intolerant part was seemingly gone. They stood there in silence, staring at each other intently, when the fireplace became ablaze again. Hermione still did not release her gaze when Ron came barging in.

“Oy! Malfoy! Back away from her!” Ron shouted, wand already stretched out.

Malfoy backed away slightly, directing his stare to Ron. “First Potter in my house, and now Weasley. After years without guests, I’m am utterly overjoyed by such company,” Malfoy hissed.  

“The feeling’s mutual,” Ron snapped.

Sensing the impending duel between the childhood enemies, Hermione quickly interfered. “Drop it,” she insisted. “We’re here for Rose and Scorpius.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, “I see that you and I are here, but where’s your wife, Malfoy?”

Hermione had to admit that it was a valid question. If both she and Ron were here, didn’t it make sense for Astoria to be a part of it as well? Hermione hadn’t seen her last time either, which seemed strange now that she came to think of it.

“She is otherwise occupied today.” Malfoy curtly replied, but when Hermione looked at him, she realized she had seen this expression on his face before. Though his voice remained sharp, his eyes no longer conveyed the same resentment. She thought back to last week when he was attending to her after she finally woke up post faint. What was it that they were discussing when he looked like this? Usually she could remember better than this… Blame it on her head having just been banged!

Frustrated with herself, Hermione nevertheless accepted Malfoy’s lack of reasoning, but Ron didn’t seem to be done quite yet. “Why not, huh? I thought your lot didn’t leave the Manor.”

Malfoy, irked by Ron, went back into rage, “How about you stay out of my personal business, Weasley? Astoria won’t be joining us and that is that.” Conveying his final say in the matter, Malfoy turned his back to the couple and exited the room.

With Malfoy gone, Ron acknowledged Hermione, “Going as well as you planned?” he spat.

“If you think he’s so dangerous, you should probably be more mindful of your tone, you know,” she scorned. “And despite what you think, I do still happen to believe that this is a good idea.” And with a huff, Hermione mirrored Malfoy, leaving the room, following wherever it is he went.

Hermione knew the day was going to be filled with high tensions, but even this seemed like a lot from the start. It only took Malfoy and Ron mere seconds before one of them combusted. At this point, the best she could hope for was that they all made it out of there alive.

She scurried down the hall to try to catch up with Malfoy, but remained a few feet away, providing him with ample distance. Undoubtedly sensing her presence, Malfoy turned around. He seemed relieved to see that she was the one following him, not Ron. They continued down the hall, twisting through parts of the Malfoy Manor that she had never seen before. The walls were lined with portraits of the Malfoy family tree and other exquisite paintings that even put the ones at Hogwarts to shame. If she wasn’t afraid she lose Malfoy, she would have loved to stop to actually examine the artwork.

Eventually, Malfoy reached his destination in the dining room, which must have been on the complete opposite side of the home. He took a seat at the head of the table. The dining room table was much larger than that of a typical family, with enough seats for around thirty individuals -- although Hermione highly doubted that the Malfoys had entertained that many people in a very long time. Examining the arrangement, Hermione carefully determined which seat she should sit in. She didn’t want to sit directly next to Malfoy when there were so many other options, but if she sat too far away, it would become awkward and unconducive to any sort of possibility for conversation. After weighing these options, Hermione grabbed the chair two seats away from the head seat.

Hermione sat up as straight as possible in her chair, attempting to match the composure of Malfoy. It must be second nature for him to sit at this table so properly, but Hermione had certainly never had to dine in such a fancy location on a regular basis. As a child, her family was lucky if the kitchen table was completely cleared off when they ate dinner.

After a couple more minutes, Ron entered the dining room, having been led there by the same house elf from earlier, who likely gathered that he needed some directing. Ron sat even farther away from Malfoy than she had, yet the room was still fraught with tension.

“Does Master Malfoy need anything at the moment,” the house elf asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind bringing us some tea, it would be very much appreciated,” Malfoy requested.

Catching the conversation, Hermione brought all her attention onto Malfoy. Had he just been… nice to a house elf? If Hermione was not mistaken, he seemed to have provided her with much more manners than he ever had to Ron. Given the circumstances, it went to show just how little Malfoy sincerely thought of Ron.

After a few more moments of silence, the house elf returned with three cups of tea on a platter.

Malfoy took the tray from her hands and placed it on the table. “Thank you very much, Jibsey.” The house elf curtsied and with a snap of her fingers, apparated away. Hermione still looked at Malfoy blankly. Catching her quizzical expression, Malfoy returned to full Malfoy-ness. “What’s the matter Granger? Surprised a man can change in more than one way?” Hermione remained at a lack of words. “Well, when your company is Weasley, I guess that really shouldn’t be a shock to me.”

Ron stiffened up in his seat. “You know I’m right here, don’t you?” Ron growled.

“Of course,” Malfoy devilishly smirked. “That’s what made the remark even better.”

Ron’s face heated up beat red, and Hermione knew that he was ready to dish out something at Malfoy if only he could figure out an appropriate response. Before he could do so, Hermione shot him a warning glare, reminding him to control his temper. This whole situation would be a lot easier if Malfoy wasn’t so keen on being abrasive.

“Sugar?” Malfoy asked Hermione as he poured the first cup of tea.

“Yes please” she requested. Malfoy opened up the sugar container and scooped a spoonful. “That should be enough.”

He stirred it all together and then passed the cup along to Hermione before fixing his own cup. Mixed to his satisfaction, Malfoy stood up and started perusing the room.

“Hey!” remarked Ron. “You gonna make a cup for me?”

Malfoy took a slow sip of his tea before responding. “I may be a gentleman, but I am no house elf. You can serve yourself, Weasley.”

The redness that had just started to fade from Ron’s face came racing back and then some. Hermione knew she should have been on Ron’s side for this one, but she had to admit that she got a kick out of that one. Irritated and slightly cursing underneath his breath, Ron got up and made his own cup of tea.

Malfoy continued to drink his tea as he stared out of a nearby window. The late morning sun shined down on his features and gave his hair a yellow golden glow. He took a final sip before finishing his cup and setting it down on the table. Instead of returning to his original seat, he pulled out the chair next to Hermione. He brushed the excess hair out of her face and grazed his thumb along her forehead. “Any more fainting spells I should know about?”

Hermione was startled by this attention from him (although not as startled as she was sure Ron was). She nearly withdrew herself from his touch, but it felt strangely comforting, his fingertips still warm having just held the hot tea for so long. “Uh…” She lost her words for a moment as Malfoy looked straight at Hermione, seeming sincerely concerned. She worked quickly to regain her composure. “No. I’m, um, I’m fine.”

“Good,” he stated simply before standing back up. ”I would prefer to not have a repeat of last week.”

First he was nice to the house elf and now he was being marginally nice to her? Granted, he was only nice to her when it revolved around her fainting, but Hermione still considered this a huge improvement over anything she had ever experienced with him at Hogwarts. Back then he wouldn’t have given a Mudblood any sort of positive acknowledgement.

Hermione was on the verge of getting lost in her thoughts was she heard Ron exclaim from across the table. “Geez, Hermione, you fainted?” His face was full of concern as he left his seat and moved over to the other side of the table, taking the position that Malfoy had just occupied. “When you came home with the bump on your head, I figured you had just ran into something. You haven’t fainted in years…”

Oh no. Hermione had completely forgotten she hadn’t told Ron the whole story of how she had gotten the bump. And he still had no idea about the zoning out during the meeting earlier that day. If he had known about both the incidents, he surely would have flipped out. And she most certainly didn’t want Malfoy to be a witness in their martial conflict. “Yes, well, it was probably just stress from starting the new job. There’s a lot of pressure on me right now,” Hermione rationalized.

She quickly looked at Malfoy who was staring back at her, fully aware of the real cause. He narrowed his eyes, examining the situation, switching his focus from Hermione to Ron, then back to Hermione.

“You still should have told me, you know,” Ron faltered, sounding hurt and slightly betrayed.

Holding his tongue no longer, Malfoy stepped forward, adding his two knuts. “Maybe there’s a reason she didn’t want you tell you, Weasley.”

That set off a fire inside of Ron that nothing Hermione said could have stopped. “You want me to stay out of your personal business, Malfoy? Then stay out of mine too! You have no idea what Hermione went through after the war because people like you believed that she didn’t qualify as a wizard. She managed to go years without fainting until you come back into her life. Fancy that!”

With Ron having raised his voice, Malfoy followed suit. “I’m not justifying what I did!” Malfoy exclaimed, on the verge of yelling. “Get it through that thick skull of yours that I no longer follow pure-blood supremacy!”

“Oh, well mighty fine of you,” Ron shouted. “It only took a bloody war for you to figure that out! What was it that caused you to change your mind, huh? Poor dad getting ostracized from society? At least your father made it out alive! Can’t do anything to help my dead brother, though, can you?”

“Thank you for your feedback. I was quite unaware of my inability to bring people back from the dead! But if it interests you so much, I haven’t spoken to my father in years!”

Hermione had heard enough of the conversation. Pulling out her wand, she exclaimed “Silencio,” instantly stopping the bickering. “That is enough, boys!” she exasperated, then iterated the countercharm.

Malfoy pushed back his robes and sat back down in his original seat, kicking his feet up onto the table. “Just catching up with an old friend is all,” he cooed.

“Oh yes, just like old times,” Ron grumbled back.

Hermione heard a tapping on the window and saw a screech owl flapping its wings. She instantly recognized it as one of the Ministry owls.

“Oh, not now!” she protested. “May I open the window?” she asked Malfoy. After he gave a nod of agreement, she allowed the owl inside. He fluttered in and landed right on the center of the table, stretching out its foot for Hermione to grab the message. She unraveled the rope around it quickly read its contents.

“Minister Granger, there appears to have been a slight break in at the Ministry archives. We need your assistance here immediately. - Alice”

A break in at the Ministry? That was definitely not news that she wanted to hear, especially when she knew that she would have to leave the men in the midst of an uproar. But they would just have to deal with each other without her to babysit them. She folded up the note in her pocket, and announced, “Well, unfortunately for the pair of you, there’s something I must attend to at the Ministry. May I use your Floo, Malfoy?”

“You know where it is,” he responded, waving his hand lazily towards the door as he continued to relax leisurely in his seat.

“Thank you. I will be back as soon as possible.” Hermione left the room and started walking towards the fireplace.

As she rushed downstairs, she started to mull over the potential consequences of this break in. What had been taken from the Ministry? Hermione had been in the archives thousands of times before when she had needed to do research for legislation for the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but she had always been essentially alone down there. Not too many people bothered to go down there seeing it was restricted to materials that were more than five years old. Of all places in the Ministry to be breached…

Hermione was halfway down the hallway when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Ron stood behind her, panting breathlessly, hands on his knees for balance. “So that’s it then,” Ron demanded, standing up and moving his hands to his hips. “You’re just going to leave me here with Malfoy?”

“There is something urgent at the Ministry, and I need to go. In case you have forgotten, I’m Minister of Magic – and no, it’s still not a temporary job,” Hermione glared.  

His face was still red from the lack of breath, but she could still detect his slight blush.

“I thought we were past that?” Ron frowned.

“I may not bring it up, Ron, but that doesn’t mean it’s still not somewhere in the back of my mind.” She turned her back to him and proceeded down the hall. “Follow me if you must, but I have somewhere to be.”

Hermione rushed down the length of the Malfoy Manor and proceeded down the staircase. The entire way, Ron scrambled after her, always remaining just a few steps behind. Off in the distance, he desperately pleaded to her. “Look, I shouldn’t have said that. We had a lot going on at the shop, and I was preoccupied with that. It was a mistake. But also it was like two weeks ago at this point!”

Reaching the last step, Hermione paused and quickly turned around, glaring up at him. “It may have been a mistake, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Still hurts. This job means a lot to me, and I want to do it right. Yes, that means that sometimes you’re going to be affected. So yes, you need to spend an hour or two with Malfoy.”

Hermione resumed her walking, nearly reaching her destination. Ron rushed down each step to follow her. Now at the fireplace, Hermione grabbed a handful of powder, ready to leave. Ron was still pouting, refusing to accept that he’d actually have to be amicable with Malfoy for any period of time. “Hey, you may be surprised to learn what he’s like now,” Hermione reasoned as a last resort.

“Fat chance,” Ron fumed.

Giving up on the situation for the time being, Hermione threw the powder down and shouted, “Ministry of Magic!”

Chapter Text

As soon as Hermione arrived at the Ministry, she dashed through the atrium to the elevators. It was completely silent around her, except for the constant click of her heels on the tiles below. The Ministry was hauntingly empty on the weekends. Even when she was still working Magical Law Enforcement, she had had to spend a few Saturdays and Sundays at work, but usually she could convince Harry to join her on those occasions. As for this weekend, there were luckily no reporters waiting in the entrance, so at least the story was remaining internal at the moment. It was only a matter of time until the news leaked and she would have her first crisis as Minister.

She pushed the elevator button several times, anxiously waiting for her ride to arrive. Now that she was actually on Ministry grounds, she became increasingly nervous to discover the extent of the break in. Regardless of what was taken, Hermione knew that this would not reflect well on the start of her administration. Somehow the Daily Prophet would find a way to make this all her fault. 

When the elevator arrived, she pressed the button for the Ministry archives, located several floors below her present level. She stood there impatiently, counting the seconds as she descended into the depths of the building. Just her in the rickety old elevator made everything seem increasingly lonesome. A ding from up above alerted Hermione that she had reached her destination. The elevator doors slide open and Alice was already waiting outside of them to greet her.

“Minister Granger! Oh thank goodness you’re here! It’s worse than we originally thought,” Alice rushed in explanation. She already had a folder full of essential information, which Hermione perused as Alice continued with her rambling. “We got an alert around an hour ago that someone had disabled the protective charms around the Death Eater trial reports.”

“The Death Eater trial reports?” Hermione repeated. “Those files are supposed to be heavily protected because of their sensitive information!”

“I know, Minister,” Alice exhaled. “But someone with access must have disabled the shield or something.”

Hermione flipped through the pages in her hands, including a detailed time report and photographs showing the wrestled through files. Hermione looked around the room and saw a couple of aurors examining the scene and taking down reports. Off in the corner, Hermione saw who she was looking for.

“Harry!” she shouted.

Harry’s head snapped up, pausing his inspection of a nearby file cabinet. “Look who decided to show up,” he teased.

“I know, got a bit held up,” she explained, taking the notes out of Harry’s hands and reading them for herself.

“Everything alright?”

“Hopefully,” Hermione sighed. Ron was so concerned about the welfare of the children, but honestly, she’d consider herself lucky if Ron and Malfoy hadn’t managed to already kill each other in the time that she’d been gone. “I’ll tell you more about it later. Lunch on Monday?”

“Sounds good,” Harry settled.

Hermione walked around the surrounding archives. The entire room was flooded with old documents, ranging from just five years old to all the way back to the era of the founders over a thousand years ago. To Hermione, it was a treasure cove of history, containing the original documents that had made wizarding society what it is today. Many people did not bother with the documents, which is what made it particularly peculiar that someone had targeted the archives.

“Are the Death Eater trial reports the only documents that seem to have been opened?” Hermione asked Harry.

“Appears so,” Harry said, running his fingers through the remaining documents. “When we got here, the drawer was still open and only a few of the files seem tampered with.”

“Yeah and five galleons says you can guess which file was among the ones taken,” remarked a voice approaching behind Hermione. It took everything in Hermione not to roll her eyes as she turned around.

“And what do you have to add to this conversation, Augustin?” Back when Ron had been an auror, Augustin had been Ron’s partner. Neither had been crazy about him, especially Hermione. Somehow he always jumped to the wrong conclusion, and Hermione had no doubt that he’d be just as useless in this situation too.

Augustin perched his body against the filing cabinet, clearly having no respect for the fact that it was now considered crime scene evidence. Ignoring Hermione’s question completely, he continued with his own agenda. “Draco Malfoy’s,” he announced smugly.

Harry looked at Hermione with a resigned look, “He’s right, Hermione. Malfoy’s trial report is missing.” Typically, Harry would be the first to rejoice with another reason to pin an attack on Malfoy, but he actually seemed concerned that Malfoy’s file was among the missing documents. She supposed that Harry was probably thinking that this was proof that Malfoy was up to something and Hermione had been foolish to trust him. But she still did.

Hermione may have not been concerned that Malfoy was involved, but nevertheless, it was evident that something suspicious was happening. Just earlier this week, she had requested Malfoy’s recent files, and explicitly said she didn’t need the trial reports. Yet now, five days later, they’ve been forcibly taken out of the archives? It seemed like too big of a coincidence.

“There’s several others missing, too, including his fathers,” Augustin added.

Hermione examined the filing cabinet for herself. There certainly were several files missing from people whose names had been the source of her nightmares. Even some of the files of Death Eaters who were still locked away in Azkaban were gone. Hermione grabbed Harry’s notepad and recorded the list of the seven files that were now classified as missing. She ripped the page and handed it to Augustin. “I suggest you get on locating these,” Hermione demanded.

Hermione started to leave the conversation, but as she was walked away, Augustin shouted after her. “You know, I bet that Draco Malfoy had something to do with this.”

And there was the rash, unfounded thinking she had come to expect from Augustin! Hermione shook her head as slammed her head to the palm of her hand. She let out a quick breath, stood up straight and quickly turned around, proceeding back towards Augustin.

“And what proof do you have?” she fumed.

“Sounds like a Malfoy thing to do,” he reasoned with a shrug. “Plus, you know, got that whole ‘Son of Voldemort’ thing going on.”  

Hermione could feel her heart beat faster and faster as she resisted her urge to completely lash out. “I sure do hope that you plan to put more thinking into the case than to base your theories on unsupported rumors,” Hermione barked. “I expect a full report on my desk by Monday morning. And you’d do wise to look into suspects outside of the Malfoy family.”

Determined to have the last word this time, Hermione stormed back to the elevators, Harry following closely behind. They waited in silence until they were safely secluded in the elevator, back to the upstairs atrium.

Now firmly away from others, Harry interrogated Hermione. “What makes you so sure it wasn’t Malfoy? Just last week we had to bombard his house cause you were afraid he could still have Death Eater tendencies.”

So much that had happened in the past week that she hadn’t had the opportunity to update Harry on any of it! At least they were now planning on getting lunch on Monday. Harry would probably need to oversee the progress on the investigation before then, though, so some of the information didn’t seem like it could wait. “It couldn’t have been Malfoy,” she rationalized with a sigh. “I was with him this morning.”

The elevator came to a screeching halt, reaching the atrium, but Harry remained frozen in the elevator. “You went back to Malfoy’s? Did you learn nothing last week?” he marveled.

For Harry, this whole thing probably did sound completely preposterous. Last he heard, she had fainted by merely entering the Malfoy Manor. Yet here she was, spending her day off at his house. It did sound quite strange come to think of it. But the details of it all didn’t matter at the moment. That part could be saved for later. She dragged Harry out of the elevator, heading back to fireplaces. “I promise it’ll make sense when I explain on Monday, but I actually need to get back to Ron and Rose at Malfoy Manor.”

“Hold up. You mean to tell me that not only are you going back to Malfoy’s, but you also somehow convinced Ron to go with you?” Harry stared at her incredulously. “That’s it, we’re never going a week without lunch again.”

“Did you not notice when Ron dropped Hugo off at your place this morning?” Hermione questioned.

“Of course I noticed,” Harry defended. “I’m not that daft!” Harry paused as he and Hermione reached the edge of the fireplaces. “Ron didn’t bother explaining why he was dropping him off. It does explain his sour mood this morning, though.”

Hermione laughed. “Yes, it certainly does.” They stood there for a moment longer before Hermione determined that it was in deed time for her to return to the Manor. “Well, best of luck with the investigation. Lunch Monday?”

“Lunch Monday.”

***

Hermione arrived back at Malfoy Manor and had to admit, she was impressed that the building was still standing. As she walked back to the dining room, she started to contemplate the potential impact of the archives break in. Alice had said that someone had disabled the protective charms, which meant that the person either had ample time to experiment with different countercharms or, worse, already knew what spells had been cast. Regardless of which happened, both meant major issues for her and the Ministry. One situation meant that there was a lack of security of important documents. The other meant that someone in the Ministry was spilling secrets. Or the one who did it.

There had been seven different files taken from the cabinet, including both Malfoy men. Hermione had to admit that it was suspicious, but certainly many people still had it out for the Malfoys. And it wasn’t as if they knew the motive for taking the files. Regardless, she had been with Malfoy all morning, so he couldn’t have been the one to do it. Unless… unless he had gotten someone else to do it…

Against all of her best intuitions, every fiber in Hermione’s being wanted to believe Malfoy wasn’t involved in this. She was growing quite weary of perpetually finding reasons to potentially mistrust him. Yet, with each new discovery, he had found a way to prove her wrong. But it wasn’t like he was being completely upfront with her either. He certainly had things he wasn’t sharing with her. Like where was Astoria.

Astoria. What if the reason Astoria couldn’t be there that morning was because she was “otherwise occupied.” Hermione couldn’t rule it out…

At the present moment, however, Hermione had a different issue to handle. Off in the distance, Hermione could hear the echoes of shouting and, honestly, she would have been surprised if she hadn’t. She picked up her pace a bit as she rushed to save the grown boys from each other.

The dining room doors were shut, but that did very little to prevent the sound of their angry voices from spreading down the hall. And it most certainly couldn’t inhibit Rose and Scorpius, who were crouched with their ears pressed against the doors, from hearing every word.

Before Hermione could actually hear the conversation herself, she could see the look on the children’s faces. Rose looked intent, carefully deciphering each retort. Scorpius, on the other hand, appeared flushed. As Hermione came into range, she could understand why he seemed concerned.

“Kids are cruel,” Malfoy argued.

“You should know, Malfoy. You were about as cruel as they come!” Ron bellowed.

Hermione reached the door and placed her hands on the unsuspected eavesdroppers.

“Mum!” Rose said with a jolt. “Mr. Malfoy and Dad are having a bit of a row at the moment. I told you that they didn’t like each other.”

“I can hear that for myself,” Hermione pointed out.

She turned her attention to the quivering Scorpius who looked like an ashwinder confronted by Lumos. His eyes remained wide, as he stood there frozen in spot. Rose put her hand on his shoulder and continued to explain to her mother. “We heard them yelling about Scorpius going to Hogwarts and wanted to know what was going on, is all.”        

Hermione could only imagine what was going on in Scorpius’s head right now. Knowing Ron, he may have inadvertently announced to Scorpius his completely illogical belief that Scorpius was in any way dangerous. Hermione wanted to comfort him, but also thought of a way to perhaps get an answer to another lingering question at the same time. “Scorpius, is your mother in there with them?”

“No,” Scorpius babbled, “she’s, um, been in her room all day.”

Hermione may have a lot of reasons to doubt Malfoy and not enough interaction with Astoria to form an opinion on her, but she knew she could trust what Scorpius said. Relieved by his answer, Hermione gave Scorpius a gentle smile.

Then, behind the closed doors, Hermione heard a loud crash, and she knew that she couldn’t leave Malfoy and Ron to their own devices any longer. “Scorpius, why don’t you go talk with your Mum. She’ll make you feel better.” Scorpius opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione interrupted him first. “Run along!”

Rose grabbed Scorpius and dragged him away, as Hermione opened the dining room doors. If she thought the yelling was loud from the outside, she was quite shocked by the magnitude of their voices in close proximity. The boys rambled on, oblivious to her entrance. Both had their wands in hand, clearly in the midst of a duel.

“Why don’t you just go find some other Death Eater spawns for him to play with?” Ron proclaimed. He fired off a jinx, but Malfoy quickly deflected it.

“When I disappeared from social events, I didn’t just conveniently fall off your radar to please you!” Malfoy fired back with Flipendo, causing Ron to stumble onto the ground. “We disassociated ourselves from everyone. Former Death Eaters included.”

Ron picked himself back up. “Too soon for a Death Eater reunion? Or are the majority of the participants still locked up in Azkaban?” Hermione got her wand out, preparing to intervene, but Malfoy locked eyes with her, the first to notice her return. He lowered his wand, but Ron, still unaware of her presence, continued with the quarrel. “How’s good old dad by the way? I’m sure he’s pleased to know you still married yourself a nice pure-blood.”

With Ron’s last taunt, Malfoy looked away from Hermione and began to physically charge towards Ron. Catching onto his movement, Hermione quickly swooshed her wand, shouting, “Ebublio.” Malfoy was instantly encapsulated in a giant bubble, preventing him from approaching Ron any closer.

“Look, Weasel, you’re about as attentive as your wife,” Malfoy announced, his voice muffled from inside his translucent barrier. Ron looked at Hermione, surprised to see her there. “I may have married a pure-blood, but believe it or not, that does not mean that I haven’t changed. Astoria was never a Death Eater, and maybe you can get it through your thick skull that she rubbed off on me a bit. You know nothing about the choices I had to choose between.”

“I was at your trial, you git. We all have our choices.”

“We most certainly do. And if it wasn’t for my mother’s choices, your precious Potter would probably be dead. Look at my choices now. The Malfoy loyalty lies with family, no longer with blood.” Ron didn’t seem completely satisfied, but it seemed to finally shut him up. Malfoy now directed his attention to Hermione. “If you would kindly let me out of here, I would very much like to check in with Scorpius.”

With a pop, the bubble around Malfoy burst, releasing him from his temporary enclosure. He gave Hermione a curt nod, before parading out of the room.

Now just the two of them, it was Hermione’s turn to berate Ron. “What happened to being civil?”

“He was being a prat!” Ron exclaimed.

“From what I heard, you were the one accusing him of things, not the other way around.”

“How can you even stand it here anyway?” Ron cried, completely changing the topic. He wandered around the room, picking up various objects. “Just look at everything here. It represents everything we hate.”

“It’s bigger than just that,” Hermione defended. “Was Malfoy awful in school? Absolutely. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t move past that. Dumbledore was friends with Grindelwald as a kid and even shared the same philosophy for a bit. But then he changed. Or are you going to argue that Dumbledore couldn’t be trusted because as a young man, he made a mistake?”

“Sure, but then Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald!”

“Decades later! And is that what Malfoy has to do to prove that he’s changed? Go off and defeat a dark wizard? Well, I for one hope that no one has to do that.”

“No, I mean, but…” Ron trailed off.

“Oh, please do continue with that thought Weasley.” Malfoy interrupted from across the dining room. Hermione wasn’t sure how much he heard or how long he’d been there. But evidently he had gathered enough. He strolled towards them lazily, bite to his voice. “Everything I do is aimed to one day gain the trust of Potter’s left hand man.”

“The expression is ‘right hand man,’” Ron corrected.

Malfoy gave off a fake laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. Granger’s the right hand and you’re the much less useful left hand.”

Ron lunged towards Malfoy, on the verge of starting their second skirmish of the day, but Hermione held him back. “Well, boys, it sounds like we’ve had enough for today. Ron, would you please go get Rose so we can leave?”

“They’re in the downstairs ballroom playing on the broomsticks. Shouldn’t be too hard to miss. Or do you need me to bring back Jibsey to direct you there?”

“I can figure it out, on my own, Malfoy,” Ron huffed. He relaxed a little, and Hermione let him go so he could find Rose.

That left Hermione alone with Malfoy. She wanted to tell him about the missing trial documents, but knew that it was still classified information. The story would be out soon enough, anyway, Monday at the latest. But would a little heads up about the story be such a bad thing? She doubted Malfoy read the Daily Prophet, though. What was the point if you were secluded in your own family mansion, caused by the vicious rumors that were perpetuated in the very same newspaper?

Malfoy paced around the dining room, looking uneasy. His mood seemed completely volatile. One moment he was barking at Ron, but seconds later, he was melancholy and self-reserved. It was like all the jibes at Ron were an act, or some sort of self-defense. She wanted to dig inside his brain, know what was making him so upset. She was about to ask him when he began talking. “I haven’t seen Scorpius this happy in years,” he professed, a slight smile etching along his face.

“You raised a lovely kid,” Hermione responded, trying to comfort him just a little bit.

He placed his hands in the pockets of his robes and strolled over closer to Hermione. “As did you.”

“If I’m not mistaken, that’s now two things that we’ve agreed upon today,” Hermione observed. “Twice our previous record.”

“Anything times zero is zero, Granger.” Malfoy corrected with a smirk. “This whole situation is completely unprecedented.”

Malfoy was now dangerously close to her and her heart started beating fast. He extended his arm and brushed his thumb over her forehead again. “Why hadn’t you told Weasley about the fainting?” Malfoy was now talking about it for a second time. Could it be that he was actually concerned about her? Hermione was completely dumbstruck by the mere notion of this idea, let alone its execution.

She lightly grabbed his hand and removed it from her face. His hands were soft, yet strong – the sign of a man who had never had to do much manual work in his life. “I’ve, um, been busy,” she lied.

“Don’t kid yourself, Granger,” he warned. “If you keep yourself locked up, it’s only going to result in disaster. And I’m one to know.” Hermione noticed that he was still lightly touching her hand, and it felt oddly comforting. This was all so contrary to everything she had previously experienced with Malfoy in years past. The old Malfoy didn’t show a bit of care for anyone other than himself, not even his Slytherin friends. But the way he was looking at her made her feel safe – like she could actually talk with him about what was bothering her.

The dining room doors slammed opened and Malfoy and Hermione instantly jumped away from one another. Rose stormed in with a huff with Ron following shortly behind her. “Ugh, Mum, let’s go.”

“Is everything alright?” Hermione asked.

“Where’s Scorpius?” Malfoy added uneasily.

“He’s downstairs still. He’s fine,” Rose assured Malfoy. “I just want to go, okay?” She darted out of the room in the direction of the drawing room.

Ron shrugged, seemingly oblivious to whatever had sparked Rose’s outrage. “Well, it’s been an absolutely nightmare, Malfoy,” Ron remarked.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Malfoy quipped.

“I’ll meet you downstairs, Hermione,” Ron said as he too left.

As soon as the doors closed, Hermione turned to Malfoy. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she tried to assure him.

“And I’m sure your husband did something,” he retorted.

“Ron is…” Hermione started off, but Malfoy interrupted her.

“… a sad excuse of a husband? A complete idiot who can’t figure out how to help you? A prat who refuses to give Scorpius a chance?“

“Malfoy!” Hermione warned.

“Tell me I’m wrong then!” Malfoy thundered.

“You only see snippets of what he’s like,” Hermione shouted, but on the inside, was having a hard time finding any other excuse at the moment to prove Malfoy wrong.

“Yes, well, what I’ve seen is more than enough.”

Hermione wanted to keep talking with Malfoy, but knew that Rose and Ron were probably already downstairs waiting for her. “I don’t have time for this Malfoy. I need to go,” she justified. She turned her back to Malfoy, walking towards the exit.

“You’re just running away from your issues then!” Malfoy called after her. He may be right, but at the moment, she didn’t have the time to properly deal with said issues. She had enough on her plate with her family and relationship with Ron, not to mention her job and now a break in at the Ministry. Hermione finally left the dining room, leaving Malfoy in there all alone.

Hermione was rushing down the hall to rejoin her family when she heard the dining room door open and close behind her. Couldn’t Malfoy just leave her be at the moment? And what in Merlin’s beard did he care if she dealt with her fainting issues or not? It was her life, not his, and since when did he care at all about what happened to her?

Malfoy caught up with her and grabbed her hand to stop her from going any farther. “Fine, Granger, I crossed the line,” he exclaimed, sounding more irritated than remorseful.  “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Weasley, the same way you don’t know what’s going on between Astoria and me. So do whatever the bloody hell you think is right. But don’t let this stop Rose from coming over again.”

“We’ll see, Malfoy,” Hermione snapped. “I’ll talk with Ron and get back to you.”

Malfoy dropped Hermione’s hand and slammed his own onto the nearby wall. “Stop letting Weasley dictate what you think is right and wrong! You’re bloody Minister of Magic. Have a damn backbone!”

“And don’t tell me how to live my life!” Hermione demanded. With that, Hermione stormed away.

“Fine!” Malfoy shouted down the hall. Hermione walked away faster, but she could still hear his parting words. “Owl me!”

Oh, how Malfoy could press her buttons! It didn’t matter that she essentially agreed with everything he said. It was the principle of it! He had no place insulting Ron like that or telling her how to handle her problems!

Of course Hermione wanted Rose to come back, but Ron made it clear that this was just a trial run and didn’t necessarily mean future visits. And after the events of the day, Hermione doubted Ron was going to be advocating for the continuation of the friendship. But Ron and Hermione weren’t the only ones involved in the decision. Rose should have a say as well.

Hermione rejoined her family at the fireplace, where Rose was standing resolutely with her back to Ron, arms crossed. Whatever had sparked her outrage a few minutes ago was evidently still disturbing her. But, the Malfoy Manor was not the place to pry for details at the moment. One by one, they entered the fireplace, Hermione the last to leave, unsure if and when she’d return.

Chapter Text

Back in the safety of their home, Hermione resolved to learn what had caused such an instant shift in Rose’s demeanor. Ron, however, seemed completely uninterested, going directly into their bedroom upon their return, slamming the door shut behind him. Hermione took Rose’s hand and led her to the sofa. 

“What’s wrong, dear?” Hermione asked, using her most calming and nurturing voice. “Everything seemed to be going well with Scorpius. What changed?”

Rose burst into tears. She shielded her face in Hermione’s shoulder, the tears starting to soak through Hermione’s robes. Hermione had been able to tell that something was wrong, but she hadn’t expected this severe of a response. She let Rose cry for as long as she needed, rubbing her hand against Rose’s back. Several minutes later, Rose started to calm down, finally able to assemble a response.

“After you saw Scorpius and me outside the dining room, he took me downstairs to play some more, but I could tell that something was wrong. And then Mr. Malfoy came in, and I could tell that something was really wrong. I’ve seen Scorpius clam up before, but nothing like he did when his dad talked with him about what he and Dad had been arguing about.” Rose took a breath and wiped her finger under her eyes to remove some of the remaining tears. “Mum, why doesn’t Dad want Scorpius to go to Hogwarts?”

It was the question that Hermione feared answering. She wanted to keep Rose away from the rumor as much as possible so as to not tarnish her perspective of Scorpius. Hermione knew that Rose was just as unfazed by gossip as her mother, but she still didn’t want to take any chances. “It’s very complicated. Grown up things,” Hermione rationalized.

“It has to do with that rumor you and Scorpius mentioned last week, doesn’t it?” Rose cleverly deduced. “I could tell then that there was something more that bothered Scorpius, and I think that’s why he leant me the book about the war. He said something about people thinking that he’s the enemy… Is it because he’s a Malfoy? But there’s plenty of other kids whose parents were Death Eaters, so what makes Scorpius so different?”

Rose had evidently spent a significant period of time trying to unravel this mystery. And unfortunately, she wasn’t far from uncovering the truth. At this point it was only a matter of time until she heard the full rumor. Perhaps it was for the best that she heard it from her mother, rather than from the mouths of her soon to be classmates.

Hermione did her best to convey the situation without completely bombarding Rose with the wicked truth. “Well, you see, the Malfoys weren’t just any other Death Eater family. They were one of Voldemort’s most trusted followers. Mr. Malfoy’s father was even a part of Voldemort’s inner circle. Some people are still afraid of the Malfoy name, so they make up not nice stories about them.”  

“You mean like saying that Scorpius is the son of Voldemort?” Rose looked down, avoiding eye contact with her mother, which was a good thing, because if she had looked up, she would have seen the sharp anger piercing through them.

“Where did you hear that?” Hermione asked, doing her best to keep her voice steady. It was becoming increasingly difficult since Hermione had a pretty good guess who the source of her information was.

“I heard Dad say it to Mr. Malfoy,” Rose said in a pipsqueak of a voice. She looked back up at her mother, tears starting to form again. The corners of her lips trembled into a frown. “It can’t be true. Right, Mum?” she pleaded.

Before Hermione could answer, she pried herself off the sofa and did her best to not stampede into their bedroom. She barged the door open and revealed Ron, lounged in bed, eyes shut.

“Wake up, Ronald,” she commanded. He muttered an inaudible response, but didn’t move. Hermione had absolutely no tolerance for his sluggishness at the moment. “Wake up, Ronald Weasley, NOW!” she shouted, bashing his head with a nearby pillow.

“Fine, fine!” he grumbled, rubbing the slumber out of his eyes. He perched up in bed and groggily whispered, “I’ll go pick up Hugo.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Hermione snapped, giving Ron another pillow blow to the head for good measure. “We need to go into the living room and have a discussion with our daughter who is in tears because her father thinks that her friend is the son of Voldemort.”

Ron fell back down in bed and simultaneously covered his face with his hands. “In my defense, I never said he is the son of Voldemort… just that he could be.”

“Ron! You half-witted, lazy, thoughtless, prat!” With each new word, Hermione hit him yet again with the pillow. “These are not the values that we agreed to raise our children with! You’ve seen first hand how the Daily Prophet will distort things for sensationalism!”

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but then Rose appeared in the doorframe, eyes crimson red from crying. Mustering up her courage, she peeped in a weak voice, “I’m not going back there, am I?” Hermione and Ron both remained silent, waiting for the other one to speak first. Instead, it was Rose who broke the tension, but this time, her voice beamed loud and clear. “You didn’t even give him a chance, Dad! You spent the whole time yelling at his dad and didn’t say a single word to Scorpius!”

Ron sank down into the bed, cowering away from his daughter’s accusations. Come to think of it, Hermione hadn’t seen Ron in the same room as Scorpius the entire day. What was the point of him coming if he hadn’t even met Scorpius? As Hermione feared and Rose astutely concluded, Ron most likely never considered giving Scorpius a chance. He just wanted to start a fight with Malfoy, “prove” Hermione wrong, and return to their completely separate lives. Well, it was too late for that.

Hermione shook her head back and forth, utterly disgusted with her husband’s lack of effort to even try to educate himself. “You didn’t even give him a chance,” she whispered, echoing Rose’s keen observation. Malfoy wanted her to have a backbone? Well this was it. She wasn’t going to tolerate Ron’s prejudice any longer. “Rose, you can go over to the Malfoy’s place whenever you want.”

Rose lit up while Ron became stone cold. “She bloody hell won’t!”

Hermione’s tone turned icy as she directed her attention to her beloved husband. “You lost your say when you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain. Today was supposed to be your opportunity to conclude if Scorpius was the bad influence you so desperately feared. You squandered your chance, so I see no reason why Rose should then be barred from seeing him.”

The initial look of happiness from Rose’s face disappeared as the joy of getting to go back to Malfoy Manor dissipated and the reality in front of her came to the forefront. She looked back and forth between her parents, her lips trembling for a new reason. “Mum? Dad? Are you both… alright?”

Were they? Hermione certainly didn’t feel alright. In fact, she hadn’t felt alright in weeks. She and Ron hadn’t been perfect before she became Minister and lately, between the job and the Malfoys, things had only grown exponentially worse. Were they alright? It sure didn’t seem like it.

Hermione lowered down to be on the same level as Rose and gave her a tight hug. “Mum and Dad are just having a tough conversation right now. But it’s because we both care so much about you, your happiness, and your safety.” Rose gave a nod and wiped away a newly shed tear. Hermione embraced her even tighter. “Why don’t you go to your room and we’ll call you when we’re done, okay?” Rose gave a slight nod in agreement and slowly sulked away.

She and Ron remained in deafening silence, even several moments after Rose left. Hermione’s insides were doing summersaults with each passing second. She stood by her decision, but that didn’t make it any less difficult. Especially when it unequivocally meant that Ron was furious at her.

Ron finally left his position on the bed and picked up his robes from the bedroom floor. “I refuse to step back into that house,” he declared, slipping the first arm through the sleeve. “I don’t want to hear about it either.” He secured the top button and headed towards the door. “I’m going to get Hugo, but I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

“Okay,” was all that Hermione could say.

*** 

Hermione entered the Ministry on Monday morning feeling more stressed than she had been for as long as she could remember – and that was saying something. If she thought that things with Ron had been tense before, it paled in comparison to the rest of the weekend.

On Saturday, Ron and Hugo didn’t return home until well into the evening. Turns out Ron decided to surprise Hugo with last minute tickets to watch the Chudley Cannons play. According to Ron, Hermione had “squandered her chance to come with,” but he saw “no reason why Hugo should then be barred from seeing them.”

Ron was angrier with her than she could ever remember, including all of their childish conflicts from Hogwarts. And she was just as mad right back. All that she had asked was that Ron at least try to give Scorpius a chance, and Ron failed to do so. It was the straw that broke the threstral’s back.

On top of all that, the story of the archives break in leaked to the Daily Prophet only a few hours later. By Sunday morning, it was plastered all over the front page.

BREAK IN AT MINISTRY. GRANGER INDUCED DANGER? 

The Daily Prophet can exclusively share that early on Saturday morning, seven reports from the infamous Death Eater trials of 1998 were taken out of their heavily protected file in the Ministry Archives. The surrounding shields were disabled, raising multiple red flags about levels of security in the Ministry of Magic, just one week after the beginning of Minister Hermione Granger’s term.

According to early accounts, the rumored missing Death Eater files include Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Walden Macnair, and Alceto and Amycus Carrow, all of whom are presently still serving life sentences in Azkaban for their crimes committed during the Second Wizarding War. Most prominently, however, are the missing files of Draco and Lucius Malfoy. Both had controversial trials, managing to bypass sentences due to their last minute change in allegiance and the elder Malfoy’s willingness to reveal previously unknown details about the workings of Voldemort’s inner circle. Lucius Malfoy received immunity, whereas the younger Malfoy got off due to his minor status.

Since then, Lucius Malfoy has fled to live abroad, while his son remained secluded in the aloof Malfoy Manor until last week. Draco Malfoy was seen for the first time in years just last week at none other than the Ministry of Magic. Most peculiarly, he returned just moments after his former Hogwarts classmate formally became Minister.

Harry Potter -- Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Chosen-One-Turned-The-Boy-Who-Saved-Us, and another former Hogwarts classmate of Draco Malfoy’s – refused to make a comment as of time of press. So which one is he protecting – the recently resurrected Death Eater or the already floundering Minister of Magic? Auror Andrew Augustin confirmed to the Daily Prophet that Draco Malfoy is currently on the short list of suspects, especially due to his recent visit to the Ministry. Meanwhile, the Daily Prophet is investigating a possible connection between the break in and the start of Minister Granger’s term.

Hermione had barely gotten through the article before she crumpled it up and threw it away. Just as she predicted, the Daily Prophet had managed to make her partially responsible. Even worse, they were already grooming Malfoy to be the culprit in the public’s eye. Leave it to Augustin to have told the paper that Malfoy was a suspect, even after she had explicitly told him to look elsewhere. If Hermione had any say in it, Augustin’s days as an auror would be numbered. Perhaps he could join the Daily Prophet writing staff. Both seemed to share the same blasé attitude towards actual research.

In light of the release of the story, Sunday required a lot of going back and forth between home and the Ministry. With each new visit, she learned more about the situation, but left with more questions than answers. It appeared that a couple more files were taken on Saturday, but they couldn’t figure whose. There were hundreds of reports from the Death Eater trials, and everyone who submitted a testimony had one. But what sort of incompetence meant that they didn’t have a list somewhere! Hermione had all the respect for Kingsley in the world, but for Merlin’s sake, she sure had a lot of loose ends she would have to fix in the Ministry!

During the handful of moments that Hermione did manage to be home on Sunday, she and Ron continued to avoid each other, going so far as to eating separate dinners. Whenever they happened to cross paths, Rose looked at them knowingly, but much like her parents, didn’t say a single word about the situation. Hermione had enough to handle at work, and dealing with Ron’s continued prejudices was the last on her agenda. Provided everything going on at the Ministry, the least he could do was ask how she was holding up in the midst of a major investigation.

But here she was, back at the Ministry on Monday morning. Everything at work was hectic as people scrambled to learn more about the break in. Alice was answering countless interdepartmental memos and Hermione was hosting a rotating door of people providing her with updates and the latest news. As she had instructed, Augustin had provided her with his auror report, but unsurprisingly, he still came to the conclusion that Malfoy had somehow been involved.

Hermione wanted desperately to prove Augustin wrong, but she herself was having a difficult time deducing the true identity of the culprit. The filing cabinets had been completely scourgified of fingerprints and the majority of the people whose files were missing were accounted for in Azkaban. It was especially difficult to follow any leads when there were now other files of unknown people also missing.

At half past noon, Hermione heard yet another knock on her door, but thankfully, it was just Harry. Throughout the morning, Hermione had been watching the minutes of the clock tick by, counting down until their much needed lunch break. If there was anyone more stressed than her at the moment, it was most certainly Harry. Harry entered, and Hermione instantly put the quill that had been in her hand back into the ink canister. “One rule for lunch,” she instructed. “Absolutely no talking about work.”

***

Harry and Hermione had barely sat down at the restaurant when Harry went straight into the question that had probably been lingering in his mind since Saturday. “So what’s going on with you and Malfoy?”

The waitress came by their table and silently poured them a glass of water. Hermione waited until she was gone before proceeding. “Well, it turns out that Malfoy’s not trying to kill Rose and Hugo, and he’s actually a really good father.” Harry made a gagging nose, but after quickly rolling her eyes, Hermione decided to ignore it. “Rose is quite enjoying Scorpius’s company, and I don’t hate being at Malfoy Manor.”

Harry gave Hermione a skeptical look, but then, as expected, Harry had plenty more questions about Malfoy, starting with how he reacted once she woke up from her faint and ending with if she really thought that she could trust Malfoy. Hermione found it effortless to talk about Malfoy, spilling every detail of the past week. Well, not every detail. She decided to keep out the incident with Beetle the Bard. Hermione was still curious about what was going on with that, but it didn’t seem completely relevant to their present conversation.

“How did he react when you told him about his missing file?” Harry pressed on.

Hermione took a sip of her water, but then answered shortly, “I said no talking about work.”

“But it’s related to Malfoy!” Harry justified. “You don’t have to tell me too much.”

“I said, no,” Hermione resolved, but in reality, Hermione also wanted an answer to the question. If Harry thought that she knew the answer to this, then should she have warned Malfoy? Or at the very least checked in on him yesterday? It seemed preposterous to say, but Hermione actually cared about how the news affected him. Malfoy had already had enough exposure to false media in his life, and it didn’t seem fair that he was being confronted with it again, especially for something that she knew he hadn’t done.

Harry and Hermione poked at the food that had arrived in the middle of their conversation, reaching a bit of a lull in the conversation. Once again, Harry spoke up, with still more questions. This time, however, it was about the topic she had originally been hoping to avoid today.

“And how does Ron feel about all this?”

Hermione looked down at her plate, mindlessly moving the pieces of salad back and forth. “We’re not doing so great, Harry,” she finally confessed. Harry wasn’t a complete idiot. He already knew that Ron wasn’t thrilled Saturday morning, and Hermione could only imagine what Ron told Harry when he picked up Hugo. Talking to Harry about Ron had always been off limits in her books, but given her and Ron’s present situation, it seemed like she needed Harry’s advice as a last resort.

“Cause of Malfoy?”

“Lately, but there’s been other things, too.” Hermione explained. And for the next several minutes, Hermione detailed her long list of struggles with Ron, dating back the past few years, but building up to the events of the past two weeks. “I just thought that he respected my opinion enough to believe me when I said that we could trust Malfoy and his son,” she concluded.

“You know that I don’t exactly trust Malfoy either,” Harry said, starting to take Ron’s side as she had feared.

Hermione thought about it for a moment, but then she came to realize something. “No, you don’t trust Malfoy,” she stated plainly. “And I don’t expect you to because you haven’t had the opportunity to change your mind. But here’s the difference.” Hermione took a pause to take a sip of her water, knowing that she was about to embark on a long explanation. “When I told you that it couldn’t have been Malfoy who broke into the archives, you believed me. You didn’t make a statement to the Daily Prophet saying that he was a suspect either. That proves that you were at least willing to try to see things from my perspective, even though you have years of hatred with Malfoy. And that’s where you’re completely different from Ron. I had to beg for Ron to even consider going over to Malfoy’s and even then, he spent the whole time arguing with Malfoy and not a single second trying to get to know Scorpius. As my husband, the least he could do was to attempt to understand why my feelings had changed.”

Harry sat there for a moment digesting Hermione’s words as she sat back in her seat. Had she said too much? But this was how she felt about Ron at the moment, and she needed Harry to know. Plus, Hermione couldn’t guarantee that Ron wasn’t sharing his side of the story with Harry.

Harry began to open his mouth, but seconds before, Hermione realized that she couldn’t bring herself to hear Harry’s response. Instead she quickly changed topics. “Anyway, how’s Albus?”

Harry seemed flustered for a moment, but Hermione stared back at him, hoping that he caught on that she really didn’t want to talk any more about Ron. Talking about it was one thing, but hearing about it from Harry’s perspective was something that she wasn’t ready for quite yet. Thankfully catching on, Harry responded to her question. “He’s good. Nervous about Hogwarts, just as I’m sure Rose is.”

Finally off such serious topics, Hermione finally let herself laugh for the first time in the conversation. “Rose is doing just fine. Eager to finally get to show off all that knowledge she’s been cramming in her head for the past eleven years. Keeps going back and forth on whether she thinks she’ll be a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Harry joked. “Meanwhile Albus keeps asking what would happen if he’s sorted into Slytherin. Could you imagine?”

“Well, you did almost get sorted into Slytherin yourself!” Hermione reminded him.

“Yeah, but that was only because I had part of Voldemort living inside of me.”

“Still counts,” Hermione teased.

The waitress walked past, placing the check on their table. Harry went to grab it, but Hermione snagged it first. “It’s on me,” Hermione insisted. “I know things are crazy for you so thanks for getting lunch with me.”

“Any time,” Harry assured her. Although she was positive that Harry didn’t realize it, his response meant a lot to her. Even after she had confessed her feelings about Ron to him, they could still get lunch “any time.”

Harry and Hermione continued with small talk as they returned back to the Ministry and the inevitable insanity that awaited both of them inside their offices. They were about to go their separate ways when Hermione had an idea. “What are you doing next weekend?”

“Ginny’s gotta report an amateur Quidditch tournament over in Sussex that Sunday, but we aren’t doing anything Saturday of next week.”

“Well, I was thinking, Hogwarts supplies lists should be out by then, and we haven’t hung out as our two families in a while, so why don’t we head over to Diagon Alley together? Maybe Rose and Albus can share their pre-Hogwarts jitters,” Hermione suggested.

“Will Ron be there?”

Hermione paused for a moment. Given their present situation, she sincerely didn’t know what would happen between now and next Saturday. But as she rounded the corner, about to reach Harry’s office, they ran into no other than Draco Malfoy who was just exiting Augustin’s office.

“Malfoy,” Hermione said with shock. After the recent news report, she doubted she would see him back in public, let alone at the Ministry. At the moment, she could only see his profile, but he appeared tense, standing up rigidly and a grimace plastered across his face. Even so, Hermione had to admit that she was glad to see him after how poorly they had left things with each other.

Malfoy sharply turned his head but relaxed when he noticed that it was just Hermione. “Minister,” he grumbled.

“Malfoy,” Harry sneered.

“Potter,” Malfoy responded, just as bitterly.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked.

Malfoy’s initial relaxation around Hermione disappeared. “Well, it seems like I’m the number one suspect in a case at the moment. Had to come in for some initial questioning.” Malfoy kept his distance away from her, seeming standoffish. Hermione tried reading his face to determine if his attitude was due to the questioning, the presence of Harry, or because he was actually mad at her. She was really hoping it was one of the first two.

“We haven’t made any formal arrests yet,” Harry informed Malfoy.

“I am very much aware of that, Potter, seeing as which I am still a free man. But I figured it was best to show my willingness to cooperate with the authorities.” Hermione sighed a bit of relief, hearing that at least Malfoy wasn’t being hostile at the moment. She didn’t know if that could change at any moment, though. “Minister,” he said, “may I have a word?”

As much as she wanted to talk with Malfoy, she was a bit hesitant. “Are you sure that’s the best idea given the current situation?”

“It surely can’t make things much worse for me at the moment.”

Harry gave Hermione a side eye, but she gave him a shrug in response. She didn’t know what Malfoy wanted, but she was willing to hear him out. She gave Harry a quick hug goodbye. “I’ll see you next Saturday at the latest.”

“1 o’clock?”

“Great. We can meet at Flourish and Blotts.”

Harry walked away, but Malfoy remained there, staring at Hermione stubbornly. She grabbed him by the sleeve of his robe and dragged him up the stairs to the next story up where her office was located. As Hermione marched past, Alice seemed shocked to see the former Death Eater in Hermione’s presence. Hermione hoped that she got the impression that she too was taking him in for questions.

“Minister Granger!” Alice shouted past her. “I have around twenty interdepartmental memos that I need your response to!”

Would Hermione ever get a break! “I’ll deal with them in a moment, Alice!” Hermione cried back, before opening her door and pushing Malfoy inside.

“That’s not a very friendly way to treat one’s guests,” Malfoy retorted while brushed off his robes.

“If I remember correctly, you invited yourself here,” Hermione responded, directing him to sit down in one of the chairs in front of her desk as she took her own seat behind it.

Hermione straightened out a couple documents on her desk while Malfoy took a seat. He crossed his leg informally, making himself seem at home in her office. “And how was the rest of your weekend?” he asked, breaking some of the tension in the room.

“Um,” Hermione started off. She didn’t want to expose everything going on in her life to Malfoy. She may be beginning to feel comfortable around him, but that still didn’t mean that she was about to give him an open invitation to the private life of Hermione Granger. He already had a low enough opinion of Ron, and she had no need to add fuel to that fiendfyre. “It was difficult,” she shared vaguely. “But not as bad as yours I imagine,” she added, hoping to push Malfoy towards his reasons for wanting to speak with her.

“You deduced that much, huh?” Malfoy mocked. “Draco Malfoy, famed Death Eater, rises from the ashes just to break into the Ministry of Magic and steal his own trial reports? Makes a whole bunch of sense to me.”

Hermione could tell that the anger was rising inside Malfoy. He was doing his best to remain composed, but the slight twitch in his right hand was warning her otherwise. “I know, Malfoy, but we don’t have much else to go off of at the moment,” she cited, doing her best to explain to him rationally. “The rest of the people from the files are in Azkaban, except for your father who has been located in Paris.”

“And what the bloody hell would I want my trial report for!” Malfoy stood up and kicked his chair down behind him, the anger emitting itself. “I already lived through it AND relived it for the Wizengamot, but you know what I really always wanted? The physical documentation of the worst years of my life!”

“Look, I know it wasn’t you,” Hermione continued to assured him, but instead of helping, it seemed to just trigger him more.

“Then say something, dammit!” Malfoy fired, slamming his hands down on her desk. Hermione was about to scold him, but he recognized it himself first. He regained his composure and straightened out the tie underneath his robes. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that,” he announced.

Hermione watched him cautiously as he picked up the knocked over chair and placed it back at her desk. Instead of sitting down, though, Malfoy strolled towards her bookcase and gingerly read through the titles on the spines. A few strands of his hair that became displaced in his sudden outburst fluttered in front of his eyes, but he quickly brushed them back. He pulled a couple books out to flip through a few pages, but always returned the book back to its proper spot just moments later. Eventually, he relaxed and was prepared to proceed with the conversation.

“Look, Minister, if you could…”

“Why are you calling me Minister,” Hermione interrupted. Hermione could sympathize with his frustration, so she was willing to let it slide, especially seeing he had already apologized. But it bothered her more than it should that he was now talking to her in such a formal regard.

“When you’re in my house, it’s one thing. There, you are Rose’s mother. But right now, I need a favor from the Minister of Magic.” Malfoy looked desperate, much like he had during their first encounter the other week. “Is there any way you can release a statement saying that you were with me that morning of the break in?”

Malfoy looked at her apprehensively, revealing his despair. Hermione so terribly wanted to help, but knew that making a statement, yet again, was not the solution to Malfoy’s problems. “A statement won’t help,” she resigned, shaking her head. “It’ll just add to the Daily Prophet’s theory that somehow we’re conspiring together.”

Malfoy looked at her sullenly and Hermione was heartbroken. He lowered his head, then shifted his body so that he was using his hands to prop himself up on Hermione’s desk. She walked around to the other side of the desk, and leaned up against the edge, keeping close to Malfoy, but still giving him some distance.

“What else can I do to help?” she pleaded.

He shook his head and continued to sulk. “Well, seeing as which I’m sure that Rose is not allowed to return…”

“She is,” Hermione interjected, correcting his assumption..

Malfoy slightly lifted his head and glared at Hermione askance. “And how did you manage that one?” he inquired, skeptical of her sincerity.

“I had a backbone.”

“Well then,” Malfoy resolved, sounding impressed by her confession. He turned himself around and matched Hermione’s position. “Can she come over tomorrow? Scorpius isn’t in a good place right now and could use a distraction.”

It was one thing for Hermione to tell Ron that Rose could go back whenever she wanted, but actually doing it would most certainly almost seal their marriage’s fate. Was it worth it? She looked at Malfoy who was staring back nervously. All she wanted was to help Malfoy – she meant Scorpius. Help Scorpius.

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

Throughout the rest of the week, Rose continued to go over to Malfoy Manor. Scorpius must have been taking the accusations against Malfoy quite hard because each day, Hermione received a new invitation from Malfoy for Rose to come over and comfort him, which she always did willingly. By the end of the week, it just became implied that Rose would be spending the day at the manor. Each morning, Hermione went with Rose to drop her off, and then went directly to the Ministry.

The chaos at work only amplified as the public became distressed with the lack of progress in the Archives break in case. Hermione and the Aurors team worked tirelessly to find evidence that might point them in the right direction, but continued to come back empty handed. She worked essentially around the clock, sometimes not getting home until well into the evening. Every night before returning home, however, she needed to stop by Malfoy’s to pick Rose back up. Some evenings, it was so late, Rose was already asleep in a guest bedroom.

Balancing being a mother and being Minister of Magic was exhausting. It especially didn’t help that Ron was not assisting very much. He was doing a good enough job with Hugo, but even Hugo spent most of his time with Lilly at the Potter’s. What Hermione really craved at the moment was emotional support, someone who would comfort her at the end of the day and assure her that she would eventually figure everything out. She missed the late nights when she and Ron used to cuddle in bed together, sharing the most ordinary parts of their day. But Hermione knew that moments like those were mere distant memories anymore.

The closest Hermione had at the time being was Rose. When they finally came home at night, they would always spend a few minutes in Rose’s room, talking about her day. Their discussions had to be quiet, though, as to ensure that they kept their promise to Ron to leave him out of their affairs dealing with the Malfoys.

Hermione felt terribly guilty pinning Rose between the two of them, but she didn’t know what else to do at this point. Rose loved every minute spent with Scorpius and now considered him one of her closest friends. Each night, Hermione wanted to check in and ensure that the two of them were alright, but, secretly, Hermione had a bit of her own agenda, too. As Rose spoke, Hermione listened closely, trying to also discern whatever she could about what was going on with Malfoy.

After he left her office last week, they had had limited communication. She didn’t even see him when she dropped Rose off and picked her up at night. Hermione knew that it was maybe for the best; she never had any good news to share with him about the case anyway. The Ministry remained no closer to finding the perpetrator or his missing file.

With each new story from Rose, however, it became apparent that Scorpius was the one more deeply affected by the events of last week. Rose barely mentioned Malfoy, but she always made a point to describe the moments throughout the day in which Scorpius seemed distant, melancholy, or outright depressed. Hermione had yet to personally witness it, but even she was growing concerned. Could it just be pre-Hogwarts jitters? Or was something much more severe affecting him?

Each night, Hermione went to bed on the farthest corner possible away from Ron. She couldn’t remember the last time she spoke more than a few words to him at a time. Even as the weekend came and went, they remained distant, both physically and emotionally. And then Monday came, and the routine started all over again.

That Thursday night, Hermione somehow wrangled to get out of work at a decent hour – even before normal dinnertime. Hermione was eager to go home and actually have an evening in which she could cook a proper meal and maybe even relax with a free reading book. Oh, it all sounded so mundanely wonderful!

She arrived at Malfoy Manor, but to her surprise, Malfoy was already in the drawing room. He was lounged in a nearby chair, reading what looked like a medical potions book. He instantly put down the book, clearly having been waiting for the exact moment she arrived. Hermione knew at once that her short-lived fantasy of having a relaxing evening was now nonexistent.

It had been over a week since she had seen him last, but he appeared as if he had aged several years. Malfoy was tired, the bags under his eyes looking dark and the shine of his typically glowing locks was absent. In fact, Hermione doubted that he had even bothered to wash his hair since she had seen him last. Surely the missing Death Eater files weren’t negatively impacting him that much?

Malfoy stood up from his chair, and despite his change in appearance, his resolute way of speaking remained unaffected. “Why don’t you come inside for a bit,” he implored. “It’s almost the weekend, and I think we could both use a cup of tea.”

One of us more than the other, Hermione wanted to respond, but thought better of it. He sincerely looked awful, to he point where he reminded Hermione of how he looked back in sixth year. And if sixth year was any indication, Malfoy was most certainly not in a good place.

Malfoy led Hermione down the hall to a sitting room where Jibsey was waiting with a tea platter in hand.

“Thank you,” Malfoy commented, before grabbing the hot teapot. Jibsey curtsied and then apparated away. He poured them both a cup as Hermione settled into a nearby lavish green chair. “Just one spoonful, if I remember correctly?”

Hermione nodded as he made the tea to her tasting. She sat there patiently and Malfoy poured his own cup, not adding any supplements. He blew away some of the rising steam before he delicately brought the cup to his lips. Even his lips looked unusually chapped – he truly hadn’t been taking care of himself. As he drank the few sips of tea, some of the color returned to his face, but that didn’t resolve any of Hermione’s concerns.

Hermione had been so captivated by Malfoy’s wrecked appearance that she did realize that Malfoy had started talking. She caught on too late, only hearing the final few words of his question.

“… Holding up with the investigation?” Malfoy asked.

Hermione’s stomach sank in a fleeting moment of disappointment. Of course that was the reason why he invited her inside. He’d probably been waiting all week to hear an update, but just because he had access to the Minister on a regular basis, did not mean that he was privy to classified information! “You know I can’t tell you too much about what’s going on. You’re still a suspect,” Hermione stated matter of factly.

Malfoy pursed his lips in supposed frustration. His teacup clinked as he placed it on top of his saucer on the end table. “Well, you’re not going to make much progress with listening skills like that,” he chided. But then, he hesitated, as if second-guessing the bite in his voice. “I asked how you are holding up, not the investigation,” he added, still sounding harsh, but not nearly as so.

He wanted to know how she was doing? That was certainly a surprise. What was so special about how she was doing? Malfoy was eyeing her intently, waiting for her response. Hermione adjusted herself in the green chair as she started to feel a bit self-conscious at his piercing gaze. Maybe he just seemed to be looking at her like that because his eyes were protruded more than normal, probably from lack of sleep or something. But he kept waiting until Hermione spoke up. “I’m, um, managing,” she stammered. Considering everything going on at the moment, it was the best she could do.

“Hmm,” Malfoy grunted. He hesitated for a moment before proceeding. “And the Weasel?” He spoke smugly, but Hermione detected a bit of a choke in his voice as he said it though. Malfoy shifted his weight in his chair, causing the scratch of the chair leg against the tile to be the only sound to echo in the otherwise silent room.

Hermione tugged at the sleeve of her robes, growing quite uncertain of why Malfoy was bothering with this small talk. He most certainly did not care one bit how Ron was doing. Wouldn’t it have been more useful for Malfoy to go and take a nap rather than feign interest in her life? Hermione could already have been home by now, snuggled in bed with a book, drinking her own tea. Granted, her tea wasn’t nearly as good as Malfoy’s, but she’d managed to make do. Yet despite her grievances, Hermione didn’t make a single effort to move towards the exit.

Both remained silent, Hermione resolving not to even bother answering Malfoy’s question about Ron. Occasionally, one of them would take a sip from their tea. Hermione seldom looked at Malfoy, but each time she chanced it, he seemed increasingly anxious. Something was evidently on his mind, and Hermione was willing to stick around until he finally just said it.

After several more minutes, however, Hermione reached the end of her cup of tea, and Malfoy had yet to speak another word. Regretfully, Hermione determined that Malfoy really must not have had anything else to say to her and this truly had been just an invite for tea. She set down her empty cup and arose from her seat. “Thanks for the cup of tea,” she directed at Malfoy, before turning to exit the room. She had just barely started on her way when she heard the indisputable sound of Malfoy standing up too.

“Astoria’s sick,” he blurted out in haste, his voice rough from lack of use.

Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned around slowly, flabbergasted by the news.  Malfoy stood in front of his chair, deceivingly poised, but when she examined him closer, she could detect subtle signs of sorrow. His shoulders were slightly more relaxed than usual and he fidgeted each one of his fingers as he waited for Hermione’s response.

She slowly walked towards him, not wanting to scare him off by how close she got. Hermione finally reached Malfoy but was not sure how to proceed. Had it been Harry, she wouldn’t have even considered not immediately hugging him. But this was Malfoy. It’s not like they were friends, but they were certainly no longer enemies. She’d even venture far enough to say that they were more than just acquaintances. But calling Malfoy a friend just seemed wrong. Friends shared things with each other, and Hermione still always kept her business from Malfoy. Yet he had just broken that unspoken barrier. Did he consider her a… friend? Regardless of whatever label they put on it, if Astoria was sick, it must be quite serious if he was willing to come to her about it.  

“I think we’re going to need more tea,” Hermione concluded.

At least that made Malfoy smile a bit, and Hermione already felt a bit more comfortable. He snapped his fingers, and instantly, Jibsey had returned, a fresh pot ready for them. Hermione did her best to hide her disapproval of this. Now wasn’t the time to berate Malfoy.

Malfoy returned to his seat and cleared his throat, but his voice was still rough. “As you have noticed, Astoria is not often… around.”

Hermione took a seat on the edge of her chair, impatiently waiting for Malfoy to unravel the truth. She still had so many unanswered questions from the past few weeks, and Hermione had an inkling that she was about to finally receive some firm answers. Or at least enough information so that she could make the conclusions for herself.

He glanced up at Hermione to look at her, slight hesitation appearing in his expression. “You see, she has this… curse… that has resurfaced in her bloodline after several generations.” Malfoy shook his head in mocking disbelief, disparagingly laughing at himself. “Quite ironic, isn’t it? A pure blood is dying from a curse in the blood.”

Hermione heart and stomach simultaneously dropped. “Astoria’s dying?” Malfoy had said she was sick, but Hermione hadn’t initially thought that it was that serious. She instinctively grabbed Malfoy’s hand from across the end table that divided them. It was piercingly frigid cold, not slightly warmed by the tea he hadn’t touched in ages. Hermione then registered that she had actually grabbed Malfoy’s hand. She raised her head to look at him, and for a moment their eyes meet and held, before she quickly withdrew her hand from his.

His hand recently free, Malfoy removed it from the table and ran his fingers through his hair. “We found out about two years ago, but it’s been getting worse. She’s been bedridden the past year, going in and out of consciousness.”

For two years? Merlin’s beard, it must have been rather lonely for the Malfoy boys at the Manor while simultaneously coping with such a tragedy. Oh, poor Scorpius! His mother! If she was going in and out of consciousness, who knew how much time he got to spend with her anymore. She probably spent half of her time asleep!

Sometimes you don’t know when a person won’t wake up. Scorpius’s words came rushing back into her memory. After Hermione fainted, he was probably so disturbed because he had seen it happen before with his own mother. And that must be why Malfoy had been so concerned as well! Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle were becoming vividly clear in Hermione’s mind. Malfoy had experience taking care of Astoria not Scorpius.

Malfoy divulging these secrets made issues of the past clearer to her, but she still couldn’t discern why he was sharing the information with her. “Why are you telling me this?” Hermione questioned in a hushed voice, hoping not to push too much. She still had so much more she wanted to know. But knowing Malfoy, every action he took was calculated and premeditated. Telling her tonight was not a mistake. Especially if Astoria had been this way for a year.

Hermione and Malfoy’s eyes met again, but he broke contact and jerked his head to face the window. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find the words to explain. “The doctor says it’s getting worse,” he eventually elaborated. “She used to stay awake a few days at a time, but lately she can’t be up for more than a couple hours.”

A flash of Lumos illuminated Hermione’s thoughts. “That man that was here the other weekend! Is that Astoria’s doctor?”

He stood up and advanced towards the window, finding further solace in whatever captivated him through it. Malfoy simply nodded confirmation. So, the Malfoys had hired a doctor to check up on Astoria. That explains who Malfoy pays every two weeks, Hermione thought. She wanted verification, but decided that it was best not to bring up that she had checked his tax forms, so Hermione settled on relying on her own capabilities to form logical conclusion. But some of it still did not fully add up. “Why don’t you have her checked at St. Mungo’s?” Hermione suggested.

Malfoys cocked his head back and release a short bellowing laugh. “Oh yes! I’m sure Astoria would have been completely safe at St. Mungo’s!” He closed his eyes and shook his head fervently. “If this past week has proven anything, it’s that people are still trying to hurt me and my family.”

Heat rushed to Hermione’s cheeks in embarrassment. She hadn’t even considered this as an implication of the tarnished Malfoy name. Nevertheless, she persisted with her feedback. “There must be some sort of cure!” Hermione reasoned. “If it’s in the Greengrass bloodline, then there must be other pure-blood families that have encountered the same disease!”

Malfoy slammed his hand against the window, still averting his gaze from her. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that already?” He whipped his head around, and then slowly approached Hermione. “I have all the money in the world, Granger. Access to more potions and doctors than I could ever desire. And trust me, I have utilized these resources to their fullest extent. There is absolutely no cure.”    

“No cure!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from her position, sounding much too excited given the current tone in the room.

“No need to sound so happy about the inevitable death of my wife,” Malfoy scorned.

“No, no, of course not!” Hermione backtracked, cheeks reddening even more. She hadn’t intended for her words to come off that way, but after weeks of anguish and curiosity, she had finally found the answer to what had irritated her most.

Malfoy, however, did not look pleased with her at the moment. Her shout of merriment had unmistakably deterred his feelings towards her involvement in the situation. But she sincerely meant no harm by it! He clearly had enough problems, and she did not want to add onto that in any way.

“I didn’t mean to sound so happy,” Hermione assured him. “But that’s why you wouldn’t let me read The Fountain of Fair Fortune, isn’t it?” Hermione knew instantly that she was right as Malfoy closed his eyes and didn’t combat her theory. “Asha was sick, but Altheda found a potion to cure her.”

Malfoy released a resigned sigh. “Scorpius keeps holding out hope that we’ll still somehow find a way, hell, even a magical fountain.” Malfoy released a short laugh, but there was nothing funny about the situation at all. “But both Astoria and I know that just isn’t possible.”

“It’s not too late to give up,” Hermione insisted.

“Yes, it is.” Malfoy stated plainly, slumping back down in his chair. “The doctor said today that it’s a matter of weeks.”

Oh. No wonder he was telling her about it now. Come to think of it, this also explained why Scorpius needed Rose around constantly. Or perhaps Malfoy needed someone to distract Scorpius so that he could tend to Astoria. Regardless, there was more happening inside the Malfoy Manor than she could have ever imagined. Poor Scorpius was dealing with malicious rumors about his parentage and Malfoy was falsely accused of stealing government documents, all while they were handling the actual reality of Astoria’s illness. It didn’t seem fair for one family to cope with such tragedy, even given Malfoy’s past.

“Malfoy,” Hermione consoled, “if there is absolutely anything that I can do…”

“In fact there is,” Malfoy began.

Hermione knew she had offered to help, but she almost immediately regretted it. The past two times Malfoy had asked for Hermione’s help, he wasn’t asking for her help as Hermione Granger, but rather her help as Minister of Magic. Undoubtedly, this would be strike three for Malfoy and her extensions of offers to help.

“Scorpius.” He simply said, but then he readjusted himself in the chair, putting himself on the edge, close enough to grab Hermione’s lingering hands. He embraced both of them as she looked down on him. There was no pride in Malfoy’s voice, just shameless begging. “Clear his name. I want to give Astoria one final thing before she passes.” Hermione’s stomach twisted and she opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. “I know you previously said that you don’t want to add fuel to the rumors, but doing nothing is no longer an option. It’s only a matter of time before I’m hauled off to Azkaban…”

“Malfoy!”

Malfoy dropped her hands and stood up to face her directly. “Don’t try to sugar coat it, Granger. If they don’t find someone else soon, they’ll just pin it all on me. It’s not like anyone would miss me.”

He stared back at her with such intensity that it was intoxicating. Until now, she didn’t know that it was possible for one person to hold so much emotion in a single look. He was desperate for help and depressed about his wife, yet remained prideful, realistic, and resolute. She had to admit that he had a point that if they didn’t solve the case soon, the Aurors would have no choice but to arrest Malfoy. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than Malfoy in Azkaban. Poor Scorpius could be left without parents. Of course, Hermione wouldn’t hesitate to take him in. But it was more than just that…

Hermione would actually… miss Malfoy? 

Hermione stood there silently, processing Malfoy’s request while also handling her own recent realization. Even back in Hogwarts, she wouldn’t have wanted to see Malfoy thrown into Azkaban, but if for some reason he had, she certainly wouldn’t have missed him. Yet something had changed in the past few weeks. Maybe it was just because she now associated him as Scorpius’s father. That must be it. She must have built a tolerance towards him because he’s the father of her daughter’s friend!

Oh, but who was Hermione kidding. She had spent too much time thinking about him even when considering matters unrelated to Scorpius. Scorpius was just a piece of a much bigger puzzle. Malfoy intrigued her. His unrelenting persistence, unwavering loyalty, unyielding confidence, unmistakable charm, unbelievable smile, undeniable attractiveness…

Wait, what…

Once again, Malfoy had started talking, but she had been so enveloped in her thoughts that she completely missed it this time.

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that,” Hermione requested, still rattled by the feelings that had just passed through her mind.

“I said are you going to help or are you not?” Malfoy repeated, doing his best to remain composed, knowing fully well that he needed to keep himself of Hermione’s good side.

“Yes, well,” Hermione began, struggling not to be distracted. That peculiar, strange, outrageous thought about Malfoy would just have to wait for another time. “It’s a sticky situation. I can’t very well clear Scorpius’s name without any sort of proof that it is in fact just a rumor.” She hoped that Malfoy would understand her position. She was Minister of Magic and couldn’t just do things because he asked her to do so, especially given his current standing with the Ministry.

“Then I’ll help,” Malfoy staunchly proposed, anxious insistence covering his expression. “There must be some sort of records that we can look through.”

He grabbed her hands again, but this time, he didn’t let go so quickly. Hermione looked down and observed where their two bodies were touching, her heart involuntarily beating faster at the sight. He was lightly holding her, not trying to pressure her at all. The choice was hers to make, but she knew that he was going to keep asking until he had exhausted all of his options. The problem was, there was no simple solution.

“All the old records are in the Ministry Archives.” Hermione muttered. “And we can’t very well have you gallivanting in there at the moment.” She meant well, but Malfoy’s face instantly soured again, his demeanor shifting towards the negative.

“Don’t know why I even bothered asking.” Malfoy sneered, dramatically dropping Hermione’s hands so that they crashed down to her sides. His compassion from earlier had entirely dissipated, replaced fully by anger and frustration. “Should have known you were just going to say no again.” Malfoy walked past her, making sure to intentionally bump her with his shoulder on his way out.

Hermione was hurt. She hadn’t exactly said no yet; she was just pointing out the many difficulties that surrounded his request! She cared about Scorpius. Granted, not as much as Malfoy, but she still wanted to see his named cleared! Plus, Hermione wasn’t about to squash a dying women’s final wish.  

Malfoy continued walking, storming out of the room, apparently determined that all hope was lost. But what if it wasn’t? Hermione had a lot on her plate at the moment, but at least she could still access the Ministry Archives. And her repeated presence there wouldn’t be considered suspicious seeing people would just assume that she was doing research to benefit the investigation.

But Malfoy continued to stampede farther away. Hermione dashed after him and shouted down the hall. “It’s just not an easy decision!”

He turned around sharply, visibly unsatisfied with her announcement. “And do you think this is easy?” he bellowed, waving his hands around. “I’ve got a son who is about to enter a school in which everyone believes that he’s a secret dark wizard. Meanwhile, I’m playing the waiting game of when my wife is going to die! So if you’ll excuse me.” He resumed his parade down the hall, but Hermione wasn’t going to quit just yet. 

“And what about you?” she demanded.

Malfoy stopped and rolled his eyes in annoyance. “What about me?” he objected.

“Last week you said that it was dangerous to keep one’s feelings locked up to themselves,” Hermione reminded him. Malfoy remained where he stood, arms crossed and clearly agitated, but it provided Hermione with the opportunity to bridge the gap between them. Finally close to him again, she asked lightly, “How are you handling all of this?”

“It blood well sucks!” he lamented, throwing his hands up in frustration. With this outcry, his façade of composure began to crumble. He bowed his head and shook it back and forth, suppressing the looming tears.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm him down. “I’m sure it does,” she assured him.

Malfoy found a spot to rest his head upon Hermione’s shoulder. Surprised by his action, Hermione quickly adjusted her hand so that she was now rubbing along his back. They stood there in silence, but he slowly moved ever closer to her. Hermione continued to move her hand back and forth, hoping that it would properly distract him from her rapidly beating heart.

He eventually regained his composure and backed away from Hermione, but they still remained in close proximity. “My apologies. That was… improper of me,” he remarked, returning to the reserved Malfoy she was familiar with.

“You have the right to be upset,” Hermione rationalized. She hadn’t minded comforting him one bit. In fact, it was refreshing to see Malfoy actually show such an emotion.

“I’ve had more than enough time to cope with this,” Malfoy confessed. “I’m still sodding sad about Astoria, but it feels as if I don’t even have her in my life anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione pressed.

“With her being sick, we just naturally grew apart.” Malfoy looked down at his hands, rubbing them together anxiously. His face was paler than normal, as if talking about the subject made him nervous. “I love Astoria, or rather, I used to. But it’s hard to maintain a relationship with someone who you barely talk to anymore.”

Hermione looked at him understandingly, consuming every single one of his words. She could completely relate to that final sentiment, but felt terribly guilty doing so. Obviously the circumstances leading to her and Ron’s estrangement couldn’t be more different than Malfoy and Astoria’s, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t sympathize. Sometimes people grow apart. Situations, as well as people, change. But that didn’t mean you didn’t still care for the person. You’re just maybe not in love with them anymore.

“All she wanted was for Scorpius to have a life where he’s not impaired by the Malfoy name, and I can’t give her that,” Malfoy sulked.

Hermione’s heart raced, just seeing the desperate plea in his eyes. Before she even fully processed it, Hermione conceded. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll what?” Malfoy said, staring at her in disbelief, shocked that his plan had worked and that she had actually agreed.

“I’ll do it,” she repeated, her brain already calculating a plan of action. “I’ll look through the Archives and see what we have on the allegations. There’s bound to be some documentation on it somewhere, probably in the old Daily Prophet articles. It won’t be easy of course, but Scorpius deserves it. As does Astoria.”

She was doing it for Scorpius. She really was. It had absolutely nothing to do with Malfoy and the way that he was currently looking at her.

Chapter Text

The investigation confirming Scorpius’s parentage ended up being much more difficult than Hermione originally anticipated. First thing Friday morning, Hermione navigated her way around the various Aurors in the Ministry Archives so that she could access the backlogs of Daily Prophet articles. The Ministry made sure to keep one copy of each day’s newspaper for preservation and records of the day’s events, which Hermione was presently very grateful for.

The backlogs were simply just that though – all the old newspapers in chronological order. There was no systematic filing or index of subject matter. It was going to make searching for information about the rumors about Scorpius very difficult to track. If only wizards would incorporate just a little bit of Muggle technology, then all of this would be so much easier! All she would have to do is select a keyword and instantly scan the old papers for Scorpius’s name. Her research would be complete in just a few hours!

But alas, wizards had yet to invent a spell that did the equivalent. Perhaps Hermione should enlist some wizards to investigate that possibility. Just another thing to add to her never-ending mental to do list.

Not knowing where else to begin, Hermione looked up Scorpius’s birth announcement. It seemed like the logical starting point to see what the Daily Prophet had said since day one of his life. Even as a disgraced former Death Eater, the birth of a new Malfoy heir was still prominent news to at least make it into the birth announcements section.

Hermione scanned the Daily Prophets from 2006 until she eventually found her desired article in March of that year. As expected, it was a typical birth announcement, containing a lovely photo of a younger Malfoy with a healthy Astoria, holding Scorpius tenderly. They seemed like such a happy family back then, not yet destroyed by gossip, lies, and curses. Hermione read the accompanying article thrice over, but it had no mention of Voldemort, or even Malfoy’s involvement in the war. If you didn’t know, you’d think that Scorpius had been born to any other wizarding family.

Everything had commenced normally for Scorpius and the Malfoys. Now all Hermione had to do was find the point of change.

Simple enough, right?

Hermione spent the rest of her morning reading the remaining newspapers from 2006, but had yet to find a single negative mention about Scorpius or even any of the other Malfoys. In fact, most of the coverage of Malfoy back then had been positive. Every few weeks or so, there had been a new mention of Malfoy and how he had donated money to some organization or taken part in one of various committees. While all this information about Malfoy was certainly interesting, it didn’t help with her investigation one bit.

Once Hermione had finished perusing the Daily Prophets from 2006, she determined that she had spent ample time on the investigation for the time being. She was nowhere near achieving her goal, but she had other Ministry duties to attend to – duties that were actually a part of her job description and not superfluous favors for a friend.

Perhaps she’d start her day by forming a task force to invent that spell she desperately needed…

***

After a full day’s work as Minister of Magic, Hermione reentered the elevator and again travelled down to the depths of the Ministry Archives. Now significantly past normal work hours, she had the Archives to herself, no longer teeming with Aurors scurrying about.

Hermione traced her steps to the far back corner of the Archives where the Daily Prophets were kept, and she located the pile from 2007. With not much to go off of at the moment, Hermione figured she might as well proceed in order until she found the first malicious comment about Scorpius.

Hermione spent the next several hours scanning each page for any hint or clue. The answer could be in literally any article. Back in the summer before fifth year, the Daily Prophet used a series of subtle digs in unrelated articles to create an aura of uncertainty around Harry in order to discredit him. What if they had done the same with Malfoy and Scorpius?

Back then, though, Fudge had orchestrated this due to his refusal to accept the return of Voldemort, citing that Harry was creating unnecessary terror. Who today would voluntarily incite similar paranoia? Hermione could safely trust that Kingsley hadn’t been involved in the spreading of these lies, so at least it hadn’t originated in the Minister of Magic’s office. But then who would want to harm the Malfoy family while completely disregarding how it would impact the fears of the general public?

If only Malfoy’s trial papers hadn’t been taken! Hermione could have reread his case and seen whom he had discussed while under oath. Perhaps it was a disgruntled relative of a Death Eater whose family member had been found guilty due to something Malfoy had said. Or maybe someone had said something at the trials that had been completely misconstrued? The second one seemed less likely, but her first idea didn’t sound completely illogical.  

Nevertheless, it was pointless for Hermione to spend time thinking about the possibilities of what laid inside Malfoy’s trial papers. They were still missing and she had a strict deadline of uncovering the truth. September 1^st was only three weeks away. And who knew how much longer Astoria had.

At around eight thirty, Hermione decided to call it a night. She typically stayed much later, but the newspapers from 2007 seemed barely useful, and it was too late to start examining another year’s worth of stories. Plus, it was a Friday night. Hermione deserved a break after a mentally grueling week. If she went home now, she’d still have a little bit of time with the children before getting a full night’s sleep ahead of tomorrow’s trip to Diagon Alley with Harry, Ginny, and the children.

*** 

“Mum!”

Rose dashed towards Hermione as she arrived home in a blaze of green flames. Hugo was not too far behind, but Ron was nowhere in sight. At the moment, that didn’t bother Hermione one bit. It had felt like ages since she had gotten to spend any sort of time with the children, and she wasn’t going to squander the limited time she had by worrying about Ron.

“Look what I made today!” Hugo beamed while he held up an enchanted drawing.

Enjoying her son’s enthusiasm, Hermione took the parchment from his hands so that she could properly appreciate it. Hermione examined the illustration closely, which had eleven people, five adults and six children, standing on a cobbled street. The five adults were standing in a row, and in front of each adult, was one of his or her children. It was easy enough to determine which one she was; Hugo had kindly drawn her hair twice the size of everyone else’s. Harry, of course, was the one with the massive scar etched along his forehead and holding hands with a red head who must be Ginny. Next to Ginny, but on the complete opposite side of the group from Hermione, was another red head. Hermione hoped that the distance Hugo had put between her and Ron had not been purposeful. Rose already knew about her and Ron’s struggles, but how much did Hugo know?

Perhaps most concerning was who Hugo did have next to Hermione. Long white blonde hair and tall slender physique… Hugo had included Malfoy in the picture.

“It’s all of us going to Diagon Alley together!” Hugo announced proudly, jumping up and down as he said it. Suddenly, Rose jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow, causing Hugo to release a short-lived wail. Hermione gave Rose a menacing look, and she immediately apologized to Hugo, but didn’t seem too sorry for having done it.

“Hugo, dear,” Hermione began, crouching down to his level. “I know you’re excited to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, but the Malfoy’s won’t be joining us. Just us and the Potters.”

Hugo didn’t immediately respond, but instead looked subtly at Rose who was raising her eyebrows at him. Hermione didn’t know what sort of sibling telepathy was going on at the moment, but she hoped that whatever it was, didn’t involve her.

She was about to add more on the subject, but got distracted by bustling noises coming from her bedroom. She left the children to discuss whatever it was they were hiding from her to see what Ron was doing in the bedroom.

When Hermione opened the door, her heart immediately sank. Clothes were thrown all over the room, their bookcase was missing several books, and there was a large duffel bag lying on top of the bed. Hermione stood frozen in the doorframe as Ron looked up at her. He momentarily stopped what he was doing, his Adam’s apple visibly travelling up and down his throat as he swallowed a big gulp. He set down his wand, and nervously scratched his head.

“I didn’t think you’d be home so early,” he apprehensively quivered.

Hermione slowly entered their bedroom, making sure to close the door behind her. The drawers to their dressers remained open, but half empty, and the closet had far too many unused hangers. All of Ron’s clothes and robes were currently haphazardly spread across the bed.

Hermione struggled to find any words, still comprehending the sight before her eyes. “Are you… leaving?” she finally asked.

Ron looked down at his bag, avoiding Hermione’s heartbroken expression. She and Ron had been on the rocks, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt to see it culminate this way.

“I thought I’d be gone before you got home,” he weakly reasoned.

“It’s 9pm,” Hermione reminded him, as if this was the lamest excuse she had ever heard. Was he really just going to leave in the middle of the night and not give her the decency of telling her? Things may not have been swell between them, but after several years of marriage, she deserved more than just to come home to a half-empty bedroom. And what exactly was his plan with the children? Just wait until they were asleep?

“Yeah, it is, and that’s an early night for you!” Ron explained, beginning to raise his voice just a little bit. “I’ve barely seen or talked to you in weeks!”

Did he not comprehend that she was in the midst of a crime investigation? Granted, she had other reasons for being late, but he could at least demonstrate a wee bit of understanding!

Ron resumed his packing, now simply shoving his belongings into the bag. “I’m going to stay at George’s for a while,” he concluded, Hermione just watching on, not uttering a single sound of protest. “At least until Rose and Scorpius leave for Hogwarts. Then we can reexamine how we’re doing.”

He threw the final item into the bag and zipped it up, seeming ready to go, but Hermione wasn’t done with him quite yet. “Until Rose and Scorpius leave for Hogwarts?” she repeated, fire resonating in her voice. “Was that really necessary to include?” Hermione demanded, crossing her arms in indignation.

“Well, yeah!” Ron outburst. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s sort of a major issue between the two of us right now!”

“It’s more than just that!” Hermione exclaimed, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. “I asked for you to trust me when I said that Malfoy had changed and that Scorpius was a good kid. But you didn’t even try to see it from my perspective!”

“All I see is that you’re quicker to defend Malfoy than you are to defend me anymore,” Ron snapped. He grabbed the bag off the bed and hoisted the strap over his shoulder. “Tell the kids that I’m with George because work is too crazy right now.”

“Oh!” Hermione screamed. “So that’s a valid enough excuse for you to walk out on us, but when my work is crazy, you blame it on me?”

Ron walked past her, refusing to answer the question. Hermione snatched one of the pillows off the bed and flung it at him as he walked away. “Tell the kids yourself, you coward!”

But Ron was already gone. She let herself fall down onto the bed, letting the comforter be her source of security as the tears continued to stream down. Hermione hadn’t been fooling herself. She knew that she and Ron were on the fritz, but even still, she never imagined that this would be the way that Ron would walk out. She only hoped that the children hadn’t overheard too much of it.

Despite everything that was happening between her and Ron, she by no means wanted the children to see Ron as the bad guy. He still obviously cared for them, and he was doing what he thought was right for the children. She and Ron just could no longer see eye to eye.

Hermione wiped away her tears, and went to the bathroom to examine her face before confronting the children about what had just happened. Her eyes were puffy and red, but it was nothing a simple glamour charm couldn’t erase. With a few motions, Hermione’s exterior looked back to normal, but she still felt like a warzone on the inside.

Guess there was one more person Hugo could eliminate from his picture of who would be joining them in Diagon Alley.

Chapter Text

Hermione, Rose, and Hugo waited patiently outside Flourish & Blotts, arriving promptly at one o’clock. She held onto her children’s hands tightly, much to their dismay, as she peaked her head above the crowd, searching for a glimpse of Harry and Ginny. 

“Mum, let’s just go inside. The Potters will find us in there,” Rose whined. She kept pressing her face to the main window of Flourish & Blotts, already trying to get a glimpse at the endless titles inside the bookstore. She would have to wait just a little bit longer before she could peruse the shelves, though!

“I told Harry we’d meet him at Flourish & Blotts, not in Flourish & Blotts.” Hermione clarified. “If we go inside now, then they may end up waiting out here, thinking that we’re the ones who are late.”

Rose let out a huff of aggravation, but didn’t protest any further.

The August sun beat down on Diagon Alley, which was already swarmed with Hogwarts students preparing for the impending return of the school year. There were still three weeks until the start of term, but it seemed like everyone was getting an early start this year. Rose’s school supply list had only just arrived earlier that week, but she was already eager to start reading A History of Magic. Apparently Hermione’s copy wasn’t good enough because it didn’t include the most recent historical events. Hermione merely laughed at Rose’s grievance. As if Rose wasn’t already privy to a first hand account of recent wizarding history!

As they continued to wait, Hugo clung to her begrudgingly. “Mum, can I just take a quick peek into Quality Quidditch Supplies? I promise to come back in five minutes!”

Hermione laughed at her son. “With a crowd this big, it’ll take you five minutes just to walk over there! Neither one of you is leaving until we find the Potters!”

This didn’t stop Hugo from fantasizing what lay within the Quidditch shop. “I wonder what new broomsticks they have this season. I hear they’re releasing a new range of Firebolts this year! What do you think, Mum? Can I finally have my own real broom?”

Hugo looked up at her expectantly, but Hermione just shook her head back and forth, amused at the mere thought of his proposition. “Absolutely not! You’re not getting a real broom until you’re old enough for Hogwarts.”

“That’s not fair!” Hugo objected. “I’m a good enough flyer!” But then, under his breath, Hermione could just faintly hear him whisper, “I bet Dad would buy me a broom.”

A giant pit formed in Hermione’s stomach as she found herself at the crossroad of whether or not to acknowledge Hugo’s comment. He clearly hadn’t intended for her to hear it, but it still hurt nonetheless.

Last night, the children seemed to have taken Ron’s departure much more maturely than she had originally anticipated. She had a conversation with them about how Mum and Dad were having some disagreements and how both of them were so busy with work at the moment, that neither one of them had the time to properly deal with it. It was simply for the best that they took a break for the time being.

Rose seemed to understand and Hugo nodded along, but Hermione didn’t know what was truly going on inside their heads. It was moments like this that being a Legilimens would be useful, but in reality, Hermione didn’t want to pry into their private thoughts. She just hoped that her children would come to her when they were ready to discuss it.

Before she could address Hugo’s comment, though, Hermione saw Ginny’s hair bobbing to the surface of the crowd only a few meters away. Hermione let go of Rose’s hand and waved her own frantically in their direction.

“Ginny! Harry! Over here!” Hermione announced, trying to grab their attention.

“They already know to meet us here, Mum,” Rose insisted, trying to make her mother stop. “It’s not like you shouting is going to get them here any sooner.”

Eventually, the Potters broke free from the crowd and were reunited with the Granger-Weasleys. The family members went around hugging one another, but Albus stood there quite awkwardly.

“Can we just go inside where less people will see us,” he insisted, evidently uncomfortable with all the attention his father and aunt were attracting.

“Oh, calm down, Albus,” James teased. “Better get used to it now cause you know it’s only gonna be worse when you get to Hogwarts. Albus Severus Potter, son of famous Harry Potter!”

“You stop that right now!” Ginny demanded, knocking James on the shoulder. “Your brother has enough concerns right now, and we don’t need you adding to his fears.”

Ginny’s little speech didn’t stop James one bit though as he proceeded with his taunting. “Albus Potter, scared to go to Hogwarts! Further proof that he won’t be in Gryffindor! Probably gonna be a Slytherin.”

At this, Albus clenched his fists and turned bright red.

“Nothing wrong with Slytherin,” Harry assured Albus. “You are, after all, half named after a Slytherin.”

Albus smirked a little, but didn’t seem completely satisfied with his father’s response.

Finding a bit of lull in the conversation, Lily piped up. “Where’s Uncle Ron?”

Hermione glanced quickly at Harry and Ginny who were looking at her apprehensively. Based on the expressions on their faces, they both already knew what had happened between her and Ron. He must have owled them this morning informing them that he wouldn’t be joining everyone else at Diagon Alley.

Detecting Hermione’s hesitation, Ginny thankfully answered the question for her. “Uncle Ron has to work today. But we’ll make sure to stop by the shop at the end of the day so that you can see him and Uncle George.”

Lily nodded in agreement, fully accepting this excuse. Hermione mouthed Ginny “thank you” to which she gave her a slight smile back. Thank goodness Hermione still had Ginny and Harry to support her even in the midst of her and Ron’s struggles. She didn’t know whom else she would have been able to turn to otherwise.

“Well then,” Ginny exclaimed. “Where should we go first?”

“Hey! Grant!” James shouted across the crowd, spotting one of his Gryffindor classmates. Without saying goodbye, he maneuvered his way through the crowd towards his friend.

“Meet us at the joke shop at four!” Ginny yelled after him. James simply waved a hand in acknowledgement.

“At least we don’t have to worry about keeping him busy,” Harry commented. “So, Albus, where’s it going to be?”

Albus merely shrugged his shoulders, showing complete apathy towards the entire situation.

“Albus and I are going to Flourish & Blotts!” Rose announced, linking her arm with his.

Albus turned to her skeptically. “And what if I don’t want to go there?” Instead of dignifying him with a response, though, Rose jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “On second thought, Flourish & Blotts sounds great!”

“I still want to go to the Quidditch shop!” Hugo demanded.

“I have to pick up a few things there anyway,” Ginny commented. “So why don’t I take Hugo and Lily to Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Harry and Hermione stay with Rose and Albus?”

Everyone nodded, agreeing to reconvene at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in three hours time.

As soon as the group dispersed, Rose dragged Albus by the hand into Flourish & Blotts, clearly a woman on a mission.

“I haven’t seen someone that eager to enter a bookshop since I saw you gushing over Gilderoy Lockhart back in second year,” Harry teased.

Hermione laughed at the memory. “In my defense, I sincerely thought that he had done all of those things!”

“Yeah, you and every other mid-aged wizarding woman.” Hermione smacked Harry on the head with the back of her hand. “Geez. And you wonder where Rose learned to treat Albus like that!”

Hermione opened the door for Harry as the two of them entered Flourish & Blotts. Hermione had always loved the refreshing scent of thousands of books that permeated throughout the bookshop and the endless sea of titles, waiting to be browsed. Off in the distance, she caught sight of Rose meandering around the store, Albus still being dragged along in tow. She was probably searching for some non-Hogwarts related book, so Hermione figured that she’d just pick up the required textbooks for her.

“Come on, Harry,” Hermione directed, as she scanned the bookshelves for The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. He followed closely behind, clearly not as interested in the books as Hermione was. “So how was your birthday?” Hermione asked.

“Didn’t get to do too much,” Harry shared. “Had to stay pretty late that night with the investigation, so Gin had to put off the dinner plans we had. We did make sure to leave time for dessert though.” Harry said with a smirk.

Hermione grabbed a random book off the bookshelf and hit him with it. “Not what I wanted to hear!”

“Well you asked how my birthday was!” Harry jested, enjoying how uncomfortable he was making Hermione.

Hermione was about to make a snide comment back, but became instantly distracted by the reflective glow of the sun on a tall white blonde head. Hermione’s heart stopped for a moment as she immediately recognized the figure.

“For Merlin’s sake!” Hermione exasperated as she ducked down behind a nearby bookcase.

“Oh come on,” Harry retorted. “It wasn’t that…”

Before Harry could complete his thought, Hermione grabbed a fistful of his robes and dragged him onto the floor to join her.

“What was that for?” Harry remarked, rubbing his bum, which admittedly, Hermione did slam quite hard onto the ground. “I’m an old man now. I can’t exactly do these things anymore.”

“Some of us do manage to age better than others,” came a looming voice from above.

Hermione didn’t need to look up to know that Malfoy had managed to find her despite her effort of hiding. Why had her instinct been to hide in the first place? Hermione didn’t have any problems with Malfoy – far from it in fact. At this point, she was finding it pretty hard to deny that they had, despite all odds, become friends. Yet seeing him in public had undoubtedly startled her.

“Granger,” Malfoy cooed. “Somehow I don’t believe that is the most conducive way to find a book.” He instantly found a copy of Standard Book of Spells and pulled it off the shelf. “But I must admit, if someone knows a better way to find a book, it would be you.”

Malfoy extended his empty hand to help Hermione up. She gripped his hand as he effortlessly lifted her off the ground. “Yes, well I find that the bottom shelved books are often ignored due to their unfortunate placement.”

Harry picked himself up and glared at Malfoy. “Didn’t expect to see you out in public so soon.”

“One would think, Potter, but a change of scenery seemed necessary for the time being. Besides, Scorpius insisted that we come to Diagon Alley precisely at this time. Perhaps you’d like to take a gander as to why that is?” Malfoy cocked his head, directing Harry and Hermione’s attention towards all three of their children mingling not too far away. “Seems like our children created a scheme against us, Granger.”

“It appears they have,” she confirmed. Hermione observed as Scorpius, Rose, and Albus, all spoke energetically to one another. Albus was typically reserved, but even he seemed to be enthusiastic about whatever it was that they were discussing.

Hermione then shifted her focus to look at Malfoy. Scorpius befriending a Granger-Weasley was one thing, but she could only imagine how Malfoy was reacting to Scorpius befriending a Potter. Much to her surprise, however, he didn’t seem irritated at all. In fact, he actually had a sliver of a smile stretched across his face. Hermione supposed that anything that made Scorpius happy at the moment was considered a win in his book.

Resuming her initial purpose for entering the store, Hermione grabbed two copies of Standard Book of Spells from where Malfoy had gotten his and handed one to Harry. “I think the rest of the books are over here,” she instructed, leading them to the next bookcase over.

While the three of them collected the rest of the necessary books, Hermione served as buffer between the two men. Neither one was being outwardly hostile, but Hermione wasn’t taking any chances with them being in public. Hermione could only imagine how bad it would look for Malfoy if he participated in a fight, verbal or otherwise, with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Every so often, Hermione would look over at Malfoy and check in on him. She never said anything, but each time she sneaked a glance, he gave a slight smile to let her know that he was okay. But Hermione wanted to know more than just that. It had only been two days since he told her about Astoria, yet she desperately wanted an update on how he was doing considering everything.

After what felt like an eternity, but had probably been no more than a half hour or so, the children reunited with their parents. Rose and Scorpius were both cradling a massive pile of books on various subject matter, while Albus held a single book on the corner, treating it like it was going to poison him if he touched it more than that.

“Don’t you have enough books at home?” Malfoy probed, examining the stack of books.

“Yes, Father, but you see, these are different! There’s an entire book about Hippogriffs, and I don’t know much about them. They look like quite majestic creatures, and I’d love to learn more!”

Harry did his best to stifle a laugh, and Hermione knew that there was no stopping him. Malfoy stared at Harry intimidatingly, but Harry paid it no mind. “What’s the matter Malfoy? You mean you don’t keep books about Hippogriffs in your library?”

Malfoy glared back at him with a scowl. “Oh yes, of course. They’re located right next to my extensive collection of books about ferrets.”

With that remark, even Hermione couldn’t resist laughing along. The children stood there, looking at one another with confused expressions, oblivious to their parents’ underlying jokes.

Once the adults finally calmed down, Harry addressed Albus. “And what’s the lucky book you decided to pick up?”

“It’s, um, Quidditch Through The Ages,” Albus stammered. “Scorpius said it’s an interesting enough read and seems short enough that I might actually finish this one.”

Scorpius looked on at Albus with a huge smile, glad that his new friend had taken his suggestion. Harry, on the other hand, gaped at Albus incredulously. “I’ve been trying to get you to like Quidditch for years and all of a sudden you’re finally curious?”

Albus looked down at his feet as his cheeks turned slightly pink. “I know, but now it’s actually my choice to read it, not me doing it because you told me to.”

“Hey, I’ve also tried to get you to read it before!” Rose exclaimed. “I really do think you’d like Quidditch if you tried, Albus. All you need is a bit of practice and determination.”

Scorpius’s face lit up, an idea popping into his head. “We’ve got some old brooms at my place if you’d ever like come over and test one out! Give you the chance to try and fail before doing so in front of the entire school?”

Albus looked slightly embarrassed by the idea, but didn’t immediately object. Malfoy, however, clammed up and addressed Scorpius’s invitation cautiously. “I don’t think that’s the best idea at the moment, Scorpius.”

Scorpius looked slightly crestfallen, as did Albus.

“Yeah, probably doesn’t want a Potter hanging out with a Malfoy inside the Manor,” Harry whispered to Hermione.

“Don’t say that,” Hermione retorted. “I’m sure Malfoy has a very good reason for denying Scorpius.”

Harry didn’t seem to buy her vague explanation, but she knew she couldn’t rationalize any further without Malfoy’s express approval. Hermione didn’t exactly approve of gambling, but if she did, she’d be willing to wager all the galleons in her Gringott’s account that Harry was the last person that Malfoy wanted sympathy from when it came to Astoria.

“I’ll tell you what,” Malfoy compromised with his son. “Why don’t you and your friends go take your books to the cashier, and I’ll be over in a moment to buy them for all of you.”

Rose looked up down at her pile of books, then back up at Malfoy with gigantic eyes, surprised that all of those books were soon to be in her possession.

“Malfoy, that’s really not necessary,” Hermione protested, already reaching for her wallet out of her bag.

“No, I insist,” Malfoy objected, pushing Hermione’s wallet back inside. Then, he lowered his voice so that just Hermione could hear. “Consider it a thank you.”

Hermione looked up at him and grinned, which he happily mimicked.

“As for you, Potter,” Malfoy quipped, “consider yourself lucky to have been at the right place at the right time.”

“I don’t need charity from you,” Harry grumbled, not finding enjoyment in Malfoy’s jests

Malfoy rolled his eyes and exhaled a fake yawn. “I suppose you don’t. Just needed my son to get your son into Quidditch, though.”

Harry was ready to pounce, but Malfoy nonchalantly strolled away, rejoining the children at the checkout.

When he was safely out of sight, Harry furrowed his brow and turned to Hermione. “Yeah, you’re right, Hermione, Malfoy certainly has changed,” Harry scorned sarcastically.

“That’s not fair!” Hermione challenged. “He’s being perfectly nice about how all of our children seem to be becoming friends.” Hermione avoided Harry’s judging gaze, opting to look instead at Malfoy with the children. “Plus, that’s just his sense of humor.”

“Well I’d prefer if I didn’t become the butt of every single one of his jokes,” Harry contended. “I don’t know if you noticed, Hermione, but not a single one of those ‘jokes’ came at your expense.”

*** 

As the group left Flourish & Blotts, Rose led the way down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. Scorpius gawked up in amazement with each new building that they passed. Albus kept his hands in the pockets of his robes, seemingly disinterested in the tour that Rose was providing, but he made sure to keep up his pace so that he always remained next to Scorpius.

A few paces behind, Harry, Malfoy, and Hermione, kept a careful watch on their kids, making sure that they didn’t wander too far from their monitoring eyes.

“People are staring,” Malfoy growled under his breath to Hermione.

Hermione knew what Malfoy was thinking, but Scorpius was far from the only explanation as to why their posse was gathering so much attention. “Well you do have to admit that there are a multitude of reasons why that could be,” she rationalized. “You’ve got the Minister of Magic walking down the street with Harry Potter who happens to be the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement which is presently investigating a case in which Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, is a suspect. Tell me that none of that sounds the least bit stare-worthy.”

Malfoy sneered, but Hermione rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, I promise you.”

They both looked over at Scorpius who continued to marvel at the shops. He looked sincerely happy, surrounded by an atmosphere of wonderment and pure, for a lack of a better word, magic. Hermione doubted that he had ever seen something quite like it before. In a way, it reminded Hermione of her first time wandering around Diagon Alley. Granted, Scorpius already knew that he was a wizard and had been exposed to magic his entire life, but he had spent the majority of that time at the cold, stark, Malfoy Manor. Malfoy Manor was grand, but even it paled in comparison to the bustling crowds and exotic shops of Diagon Alley.

“You know, this is Scorpius’s first time here,” Malfoy divulged, as if detecting Hermione’s inner thoughts. “Or rather, the first time that he’d remember. I think the last time Astoria and I came here with him was just after his second birthday.” Malfoy laughed to himself at the memory. “His birthday party hadn’t exactly gone as planned, so we came here to get him something special. That’s when we got him his first toy broom.”

Malfoy’s face was currently lit up with bliss as he gushed over the early memory of his son. Hermione liked seeing this side of Malfoy. Whenever he talked about Scorpius, he brought out his caring, sensitive side. It made thinking of Malfoy as friend a lot easier than thinking of Malfoy as a former Death Eater.

Malfoy continued with his recollection. “Had the majority of his life to practice being on a broomstick, yet he’s still absolute rubbish at staying on for more than a few seconds. Opted to spend his time in the library rather than on the field. Can’t imagine where he got that from.”

Hermione had been so fixated on the conversation that she hadn’t noticed that Harry had scurried up ahead to be with the children, leaving her and Malfoy with a bit more privacy. Still vigilant with the fact that they were in public, Hermione spoke softly. “Hey Malfoy, you said that you came here when Scorpius was two. Was that still before all the rumors began?”

Malfoy racked his memory as best he could. “It starts to get blurry around that time. I don’t know when precisely other people started spreading it, but by that summer, Astoria and I had started our isolation. What about it?”

Hermione continued to look around to make sure that no one was listening. Being seen in public with Malfoy was one thing, but if anyone overheard their conversation about clearing Scorpius’s name, they were bound to have issues.

“Just thinking it might help me determine where to look next,” Hermione resolved. Malfoy gave her a curt understanding nod. “Come on,” Hermione ushered him. “We better catch up with the rest of them before we lose them in one of the shops.”

***

After navigating through various stores on Diagon Alley, they finally had everything that the children required for Hogwarts: robes, potions, wands, and far too many books to count.

Hermione, always the planner, made sure to bring her expandable purse, making the transportation of all the goods much easier. Unfortunately for the boys, they had not had the foresight. They shrunk the materials that they could, but not everything could be made smaller, most prominently being the new owl that Malfoy had just purchased Scorpius. As they walked out of Eeylops Owl Emporium, Malfoy held the owl at arm’s distance away from himself, refusing to let any trace of the owl rub off onto his finely tailored robes.

Hermione looked at the clock on top of Gringott’s bank and saw that they had just finished in time for their designated meet up with Ginny and the rest of the children. The closer they got to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, the more Hermione realized that she was not ready to enter its doors. Ron had only left the night prior, and she wasn’t prepared to confront him personally, let alone in front of their family, friends, and Malfoy.

They all continued walking, but Hermione rushed towards Harry’s side, quickly yanking on his robes, hoping that would be enough to garner his attention. Her first attempt was unsuccessful, but after several more tugs, he finally looked at her. Hermione sharply darted her eyes towards the shop, then raised her eyebrow, and gave a subtle shake of the head. Luckily, that was all Harry needed to understand.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry shouted back. “As much as I know you already love that owl, I have a feeling that animals aren’t allowed inside of Ron’s shop.” Malfoy stopped and stared at Harry unenthused. “Looks like you’re going to have to wait elsewhere while the kids go in,” Harry said with a subtle wink towards Hermione.

Instantly, Hermione caught onto Harry’s plan. Unbeknownst to him, Malfoy took the bait. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” he disputed.

“We can go to the Leaky Cauldron,” Hermione suggested. “I’m sure we can get Hannah to temporarily put the owl somewhere.”

“The owl has a name you know!” Scorpius chimed in. “His name is Spavin, named after the longest serving Minister of Magic, who actually lived to be very old in deed, so I’m hoping that Spavin has just as long and healthy of a life. Of course, an owl can’t really live to be 147 years old, but I’ll settle for, say, fourteen?”

Malfoy ignored Scorpius’s interjection. “Sure you don’t want to accompany your kids in your husband’s shop?”

Hermione bit the inside of her lip to prevent any sort of expression to show on her face. Malfoy already had so much going on in his life at the moment that she didn’t want to burden him with any of her own problems. And here was hardly the place to tell him about Ron.

“I see enough of Ron at the moment,” Hermione replied, proud of her sly yet subtle response. Harry would at least appreciate it.

“Brilliant!” Harry announced. “We’ll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron whenever we’re done.”

Harry started to walk away, the kids eagerly following on his heels.

“You’re going to love it,” Albus exclaimed. “They’ve got these Skiving Snack boxes that make your face temporarily burst out in boils so the professor has no choice but to let you skip class!” Albus grabbed Scorpius by the hand and dragged him towards the entrance, leaving Rose to hurry after them.

As they moved farther away, Hermione could just barely hear Scorpius confusedly ask, “But why would anyone purposefully miss class?”

Malfoy turned to Hermione and rolled his eyes. “For Merlin’s sake, I swear sometimes that he’s your child.”

Hermione let out a bit of a laugh. If Scorpius’s parentage was up for debate, she had to admit that it was significantly more likely that Scorpius was her child than Voldemort’s. He did have some of the same tendencies as her, especially when it came to their love of books and learning, but they didn’t look the least bit alike. His physical features were distinct Malfoy genetics. Now, if Malfoy had said that he was their child…

Hermione froze just thinking of that blasphemous thought. As if she and Malfoy would ever be more than friends! Sure, a few months ago, she would have said that even being friends with Malfoy was a ludicrous thought, but more than friends? Absolutely not.

Noticing her absence from his side, Malfoy turned back for her. “I’m carrying a bloody owl yet I still manage to be faster than you?”

With a quick shake of her head, Hermione hoped to erase the last of these preposterous thoughts about Malfoy that had been sneaking up on her lately.

When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Hannah was at the door, greeting her customers. “Hermione!” she shouted, giving her an instant hug, ignoring Malfoy’s presence completely. Hermione wondered if it was a conscious thing, or if she simply no longer recognized him.

“I hate to be a bother,” Hermione began as soon as they released their hug. “But do you have a spot where you can keep my friend’s owl while we dine?”

“Of course,” Hannah beamed. “Anything for an old friend of Neville.”

Hannah acquired the owl from Malfoy’s grip and led the two of them to an available table on the side of the room. Hermione and Malfoy took their seat as Hannah poured them both a glass of water and placed menus in front of them.

“Can I get you anything else to drink?” she asked.

“I’ll have a fire whiskey,” Malfoy requested without glancing at the menu.

“It’s barely four!” Hermione scolded.

“Barely four, you say?” Malfoy repeated, mockery dripping from his voice. “Better make it a double then,” he instructed Hannah.

Hermione gave him a scolding look, but he remained unfazed by it, raising his eyebrows in entertainment as he sipped his water as if nothing had just happened.

“I’m good with water for the moment,” she told Hannah before she left with Spavin in hand.

“Who was that?” Malfoy asked. Apparently Hannah wasn’t the only one who had blocked the present company from their memory.

“Hannah Longbottom,” Hermione informed Malfoy. “Well, you might remember her as Hannah Abbott. Hufflepuff, our year, married Neville.”

“Neville Longbottom got married?” he cried with disbelief. He then shifted his face so he looked thoroughly impressed. “Good for Longbottom.”

Hannah came back with Malfoy’s drink and placed it in front of him. “Thank you, Hannah,” he remarked politely. “And how’s Longbottom doing?” he asked as if they were the oldest of friends and not someone he had just asked what her name was just mere moments earlier.

Hannah looked at Malfoy in shock, just as surprised as Hermione by his extension of pleasantries. “Um, Neville’s good.” Hannah started. “Bit nervous for this upcoming year, though. Could barely handle James in his class! Can’t imagine a group of first years with both a Granger-Weasley and a Potter.”

Malfoy lifted his glass in the air. “And don’t forget the Malfoy.”

Hannah smiled just a little bit. “Yes, and a Malfoy. Well, I’ll be back in just a moment for your order.”

Hermione smiled and thanked her as she walked away. When she was at a far enough distance, she kicked Malfoy under the table.

“Ow!”

“What was that?” Hermione softly bellowed.

“Class,” he said proudly, taking a sip of his fire whisky. “It’s always polite to greet your hostess. And if I understood her correctly, Longbottom is now a professor at Hogwarts?”

“Replaced Professor Sprout a few years back.”

“Merlin’s beard, Longbottom certainly did exceed expectations, didn’t he?”

“Depends how low your bar was for him.”

With that, Malfoy took a long sip of his drink. Hermione kept watching, waiting for him to stop, but he didn’t until he had consumed it all. He slammed the glass down on the table and waved his hand in the air, shouting to no one in particular, “Another!”

“I don’t think that’s how it works here,” Hermione informed him.

“Well, I’ll just have to tell Hannah to keep them coming.”

Malfoy was looking down at his empty glass, tracing his finger around its brim. He was suddenly melancholy, but as Hermione had come to learn, that usually just meant that Malfoy no longer had the energy to keep up the façade he had been hiding behind.

She grabbed his hand, removing it from the glass and placing it inside her own instead. “Hey, what’s the matter?” she asked delicately.

Malfoy looked down at their hands, and to her surprise, he didn’t move his. He shook his head back and forth as he spoke. “Even bloody talking about Hogwarts makes me nervous.”

Hermione rubbed her thumb along his knuckles. “Did something happen today or is just everything?"

“It’s bloody everything!” he complained, expressing his frustration without drawing attention to them. “Buying all those things today just made it so real.”

“I know,” Hermione comforted him. “But Scorpius has a good head on his shoulders and he doesn’t seem quite so petrified of school anymore. And now he’ll have both Rose and Albus by his side supporting him.”

Malfoy chuckled to himself. “Yeah, and if Rose is anything like her mother, she’ll make sure to put any bullies in their place.”

Malfoy looked up and met her eyes with trust and compassion that she had never seen in him before. They sat there in silence as Hermione continued to brush her thumb along his hand while Malfoy unremittingly gazed at her. Every few seconds, Hermione would break the eye contact, for it was getting a bit too intense for her, but when she resumed, it seemed like Malfoy had never taken his eyes off her.

Hermione felt like her heart was going to thump out of her chest at any moment now. Why was he looking at her that way? Sure, she had been comforting him, but this was more than just a look of thanks. It seemed to have much greater meaning hidden behind it. Oh what Hermione would give to pry open that head of his and just get him to fully speak his mind!

“And what can I get you to eat?” Hannah said, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts. She immediately withdrew her hand from Malfoy’s, quickly grabbing the menu and ordering the first thing she saw on the menu. Malfoy also ordered and made sure to include his desire to never have an empty glass.

Malfoy and Hermione sat there avoiding one another as they patiently waited for Hannah to come back with their food. Yet Hermione’s heart had only mildly slowed down in the meantime.

Hermione understood her brain more than any other part of her body. The brain was logical and precise and could quite literally speak for itself. She was in control of it and she and her brain worked together to make each other stronger, wiser, and all around better.

But the heart? The heart was not quite as straightforward. A heart beating so rapidly could be for a variety of reasons. For example, extreme exercise, sudden terror, and mild heart attacks. Yet, to the best of Hermione’s recollection, none of those had just occurred to her in the past few minutes. She had been nothing but calm when talking with Malfoy, but for some reason, her heart was defying everything her brain was telling her.

Hermione’s head and heart were most certainly at war with each other. As much as she was fighting it, she was starting to get an inkling of an idea as to why. And Hermione’s brain very much did not approve.

Within a few minutes, Hannah was back with the steaming hot plates of food and Malfoy’s fresh glass of fire whiskey.

“I should have asked earlier,” Hannah started as she set down Malfoy’s drink, “but how’s Ron doing?”

Malfoy immediately picked up the glass and started drinking at an alarming rate. Hermione tried to not let it distract her. “He’s, um, really busy with work at the moment. You know, pre-school year rush.”

“Oh, I’m sure. You guys always were such a lovely couple,” Hannah gushed. Hermione knew she meant well, and in her defense, she had no way of knowing otherwise. All Hermione could utter as a response, though, was a murmur of agreement as Malfoy managed to down the rest of his drink.

“Aren’t you thirsty! Let me grab you another one.” And with that, Hannah picked up his second finished glass and left them alone again.

“I thought whiskey was supposed to be a drink that you savor and sip,” Hermione questioned, trying to leave all judgment out of her voice.

“Only when the whiskey is good enough. Fire whiskey at the Leaky Cauldron is naturally nowhere close to those standards.”

“Well that doesn’t mean you should be chugging it, or are you purposefully trying to get drunk on me?” Hermione began to scold, piercing her chicken pot pie with a fork and knife.

Malfoy merely scoffed. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Well it certainly isn’t a good thing!”

“It is if it numbs the pain for a bit!”

Hermione set down her silverware with a clang. “You’re not alright, Malfoy,” she stated firmly. “How about you talk to me about it.”

He seemed hesitant at first, trying to form some sort of excuse, but even if he had, Hermione would have continued to press him. Malfoy needed someone to confide in at the moment, and Merlin knew that he didn’t have anyone else he could turn to.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he sighed reluctantly.

Hermione wasn’t giving up. “Try me.”

Malfoy scrunched his face and slightly grimaced, but eventually caved to Hermione’s request. “Growing up, my father taught me that being a Malfoy was the most important thing in the world – that we were the wizard equivalent of muggle royalty.” He laughed as if it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. “And look at us now, ashamed and disgraced, hidden away in the only relic left that proves how great the Malfoy name used to be.”

Malfoy paused for a moment, but Hermione didn’t interrupt. This was his time to talk and she didn’t want to deter him in any way. Her plan was simple: listen closely and consider each of Malfoy’s words. Only when he was completely finished would she say her piece.

“You know we almost sent Scorpius to Durmstrang? Thought it might be best to remove him from it all. But it’d be counterproductive in reality. Would’ve just fueled the rumors even further that he was a dark wizard.”

He searched the table for his glass of fire whiskey, but to his dismay, realized that Hannah had yet to return with his refill.

“I’ve turned into just as lousy of a father as my own. Can’t protect my own son from these rumors. Going to the Ministry that day, I was trying to help, but it looks like I only made it worse.”

Hermione couldn’t resist any longer. She simply could not stand Malfoy talking about himself in that way!

“You are nothing like your father.” Hermione said firmly, making sure that she gave each word proper emphasis. Malfoy perched up, surprised to hear her interjection from his monologue. “I know how much your father values the Malfoy name, but at least from what I saw, your father was a cruel man who did nothing but emotionally abuse you. A father who sincerely loves his son wouldn’t have put him in the positions you were in as a child. But you and Scorpius? You’d do anything to protect him. And that is fatherly love.”

Malfoy stared at her dumbfounded, completely shaken by her outlook on him. But Hermione didn’t care. Someone had to finally say it to him, and if it was her, so be it.

Hermione wanted to continue, but both of them were suddenly distracted by the bustle at the front entryway.

“Mum!” came a cry from across the Leaky Cauldron as in came Harry, Ginny, and six rambunctious children, hands full of the latest Weasley creations.

“Look at what Dad gave me!” Hugo exclaimed, way too loud for the inside of a restaurant. He thrust an object into Hermione’s hands, which Hermione barely looked at, knowing that it was probably going to cause her more stress thinking about how Hugo was going to find a way to use it to destroy some portion of their home.

“Seems fun,” she replied vaguely. She chanced a glance at Malfoy who currently had Scorpius sitting in his lap, digging several various trinkets out of his bag.

“And this yo-yo screams when you play with it!” Scorpius shared ecstatically.

“Yes, well make sure to use that one of the complete opposite side of the house from wherever I am.” Malfoy retorted, not entirely thrilled with the prospect of his son taking a liking to such toys.

Scorpius continued to ramble on, but Malfoy adverted his glance for a moment to look at Hermione. He gave her a soft smile and mouthed her a silent “thank you.”

And Hermione’s heart beat faster and faster.

Chapter Text

“I’m here! I’m here!” Hermione yelled past Alice as she scrambled into her office thirty minutes last Monday morning. Never in Hermione’s life had she been late to work! And quite frankly, provided the way it was making her feel completely stressed at the moment, she absolutely had no intention of ever repeating the process.

To say the day had started off chaotically would be an understatement. Typically, Hermione woke up with the sun and casually prepared herself for the day with a nice slice of toast topped with avocado as she read the latest installment of the Daily Prophet. It was one of the few slivers of time that Hermione could quantify as “me” time. Those fleeting moments provided her with enough relaxation to prepare her for whatever the rest of the day would throw at her.

That was the old Granger-Weasley household, though, and Hermione could say goodbye to her “me” mornings. The weekend was good, but the reality of Monday set in and Ron was still not there. As the sun naturally awoke Hermione, it made no impact whatsoever on the slumbering children.

After much struggling, she finally managed to awaken the children who dithered as they prepared for the day as if they had been hit by arresto momentum. She watched the moments ticked by on the clock, making her later and later for work. In a rush for time, she shoved them one after another into the fireplace, calling for who they’d be spending the day with. Typically, Hermione would escort them to make sure that they got there safely, but she simply did not have time for that this morning. The children would just have to be more self-efficient now that she was acting like a single mother.

Hermione set her things down in her office and looked at her schedule for the day. Luckily Hermione typically didn’t plan any meeting for first thing in the morning. Usually this was because she couldn’t rely on other people to get to work on time, not herself, but she’d take whatever she could get this morning. Her first meeting of the day wasn’t for another half hour, so that gave her just a little bit of time to compose herself and brush up on the events of the day.

Alice knocked on the door and Hermione immediately granted her entry. “Do you need anything this morning, ma’am?” she asked sweetly.

“A copy of today’s Daily Prophet when you have a chance,” Hermione responded while she shuffled through the various memos that were already on her desk. Hermione listened to hear a response or at least the footsteps of Alice going on her way, but she heard neither of those things. Curious, Hermione looked up and saw that Alice remained in the doorframe, seemingly undecided about Hermione’s simple request. “Alice? Is something the matter?”

Alice played with her hands nervously as she seemed to calculate how to precisely answer Hermione’s question. With each passing second, Hermione grew increasingly anxious as to why getting the Daily Prophet was such a difficult request.

Eventually, Alice did not respond, but quickly returned to her workspace, grabbed her own copy, flipped it to the front page, and hesitantly placed it on top of Hermione’s desk. Alice was breathing heavily as she did so, frightened to witness Hermione’s response to the headline.

But when Hermione read it, she didn’t respond. In fact, she felt completely numb, unable to find any words or emotions.

MINISTER OF MAGIC BEING SEDUCED BY DARK MARK?

As the new Hogwarts school year is quickly approaching, the streets of Diagon Alley have been packed with eager students accompanied by their families, purchasing the supplies for a successful term. Regardless of who you are, the annual pilgrimage to Diagon Alley is a necessary trip. But what isn’t so necessary is the company that one keeps.

Over the weekend, Minister of Magic Hermione Granger was spotted perusing the streets of Diagon Alley with none other than former Death Eater and crime suspect Draco Malfoy. As first reported two weeks ago, Malfoy is considered a prime suspect in the case of the Ministry Archives break in from July 29^th. Little progress has been made on the case since this time.

Could it be that Malfoy is manipulating Minister Granger to get himself out of conviction? His father, Lucius Malfoy, was a known friend of former Minister Fudge despite the elder Malfoy’s history of being a Death Eater. Lucius Malfoy certainly used this connection to his advantage, so it begs the question: Is history repeating itself with Minister Granger?

Perhaps most alarming are the photos that Daily Prophet have exclusively accessed. As you can see for yourself, Minister Granger and Draco Malfoy shared an intimate dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. So, which side is Minister Granger on? And can she be trusted?

As for Malfoy, he remains a free man as he and his wife prepare for his alleged son, Scorpius, to attend Hogwarts this upcoming September. The Daily Prophet will continue to monitor any suspicious activity coming from any of the Malfoy men.

Alice stared at Hermione expectantly, but nothing ever came. She just kept rereading the article, absorbing each hateful word and unjust claim. But the more she read it, the angrier she became.

Sure, the article wasn’t portraying her in a positive fashion, but that part barely bothered her. The words of the final paragraph repeated themselves in her brain. “His alleged son.” What gave the Daily Prophet the right to perpetuate these lies!

Practically every witch and wizard read the Daily Prophet, and while the paper didn’t explicitly say it, each reader would immediately understand its insinuation. Both Malfoy and Scorpius were being unjustly portrayed, and, at the moment, there was nothing Hermione could do to stop it. She couldn’t get her own husband to believe that Malfoy had changed, so how could she convince the rest of the wizarding world?

Hermione knew that if she thought about the article much longer, she would end up doing something in front of Alice that she would regret. “I better head to my meeting,” Hermione eventually said. She folded the newspaper, resisting the urge to crumple it up, and discontentedly placed it on top of her desk. Alice followed Hermione out of the office as she proceeded along her way. Hermione understood that Alice was probably just concerned about how Hermione would take the suspicions against her, but she wouldn’t understand that these allegations were the least of her concerns regarding the article. 

“Look, Alice,” Hermione insisted, “I want you to completely disregard the article. The Daily Prophet is clearly just trying to stir some nonexistent drama, and we shouldn’t let it deter us from our jobs.” Alice gave a nod of agreement. And with that, Hermione left for her meeting.

***

The meeting eventually concluded after a couple hours, and Hermione slowly made her way back to her office, using the time to think for herself. The meeting had been more stressful than she anticipated, mostly due to the sly, furtive glances her coworkers repeatedly sent her way. It was evident that each one of them had already seen the article and was trying to determine for themselves if the Daily Prophets accusations had any weight. Hermione refused to outwardly address any of the article’s claims, but it was beginning to irritate her beyond belief.

Did no one at the Ministry think for themselves? Anyone who knew Hermione or her past should have been able to discern the truth! The Daily Prophet hadn’t technically said any lies about her, which was how they could get away with its outrageous statements. But by raising the outlandish questions, it planted the ideas in people’s minds. And that was how rumors start.

When Hermione reached her office, Alice was gone, probably off on her lunch break. She opened her door and was greeted by a mild heart attack. He was sitting in the chair in front of her desk, flipping through the pages of Alice’s copy of The Daily Prophet, undeterred by the sound of her entrance.

Hermione quickly ran her fingers through her hair, trying to compensate for her failure to brush her hair earlier that morning. It had only been thirty or so hours since she had seen him last, not that she was counting, but her heart fluttered just by seeing him again. She swallowed the saliva that had quickly accumulated in her mouth.

“Hi,” she muttered.

Malfoy promptly turned around. She had hoped to see a smile across his face as he saw her, but she did not get one.

“I don’t even know why I came,” he murmured under his breath. “It seems like every time I’m with you, I manage to make things worse, but I needed to see you.”

Hermione closed the door behind her, but instead of returning to her own chair, she sat on top of her desk. It felt too formal to sit that far away from Malfoy, and he clearly needed a friend to talk to at the moment. His face was sullen, with no visible traces of anger, just numbness. If Hermione’s own reaction to the article had been so severe, she couldn’t begin to fathom how Malfoy had taken the blow.

“You know we can’t let everything the Daily Prophet says affect our lives,” Hermione tried to assure him, but even as she said it, she recognized how preposterous the statement was.

Malfoy scoffed at her claim. “Quite the theory you have there, but in case you missed it, my entire life was destroyed by a lie that the Daily Prophet spread.” He lowered his head and shook it back and forth. “And now they’re tying you into it.”

“I’m the least bit of your concerns,” Hermione asserted. “People are always going to say ridiculous things about the Minister of Magic. But what they said about you and Scorpius…”

Malfoy abruptly stood up, kicked back his chair, and threw the Daily Prophet onto the ground. “We hid away for so bloody long and yet as soon as we come back, the rumors instantly resume!” Malfoy shouted. He gripped his hair tightly, his already pale hands turning a disturbing shade of white. “Just when I thought we had a chance of making progress!”

Hermione whispered muffliato, hoping to block his voice from bellowing beyond her walls. He needed a safe space to vent and Hermione wasn’t about to stop him. He slammed his fist against the wall, causing one of Hermione’s ceramics to fall off a nearby bookshelf, but it was nothing a quick spell couldn’t repair.

Malfoy turned his back to Hermione, bowing his head against the wall. He stood there silently for a few moments, slowly regaining his composure. He eventually calmed down, and picked up the broken pieces from the ground, fixing them to their original form.

“I just can’t bloody take this much longer,” Malfoy lamented. “I can’t show this to Astoria because it will literally kill her, and I can’t show it to Scorpius because he’s actually excited to go to Hogwarts now.”

It pained Hermione to see Malfoy like this. All he wanted was to live his life in peace, but he would never be able to do so while these rumors floated about the wizarding community.

“We’re ending this,” Hermione resolved with conviction. It wasn’t fair to any of them. All of the Malfoys deserved better than to be treated this way, and Hermione was now ignited with a new determination to put an end to the spreading of these lies. She pushed herself off the top of her desk and picked up the Daily Prophet. “Maybe there’s a hint in this article? It was written by Rolanda Reid. Any chance you know her?”

Malfoy’s head perked up instantly upon hearing the name. “She was two years younger than us at Hogwarts. Used to be good friends with Astoria, but we haven’t spoken to her in years.”

Hermione tried to trace through all the people she knew at Hogwarts, but she had no recollection of Rolanda at school. If she was friends with Astoria, she was most likely a Slytherin and not in any of the circles Hermione had interacted with.

“Well, if she’s writing this article, then she had no qualms unnecessarily perpetuating these rumors. It’s worth looking into what Rolanda knows or at least what she’s also written on the matter.”

Hermione went back to her desk, grabbed her quill and quickly started jotting down her thoughts. She knew that following the lead with Rolanda might not go anywhere, but it was something worth researching. After work today, she could go back into the Ministry Archives and look up recent articles written by her and see what else she had said.

As she scribbled her notes, Malfoy positioned himself behind her, following along with her ideas. Hermione turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. His anger was now completely subsided, replaced solely by concern. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, closing his eyes and ever so slowly shaking his head back and forth.

“Look, Hermione, I appreciate the offer to help with Scorpius, but I don’t want to burden you. You’re already too complicated in all of this, and now your position is being questioned.”

Hermione only half registered the ending of his sentence, much too distracted by its beginning. She turned completely around so that she was now fully facing him.

“You did it again,” Hermione whispered, looking up at Malfoy with wide eyes.

This was clearly not the response Malfoy had expected from her. He undoubtedly thought she was going to address his unreasonable suggestion that she back off the investigation, but he should know better by now that she was not one to give up – especially when it required research. Yet she was still much more interested in something else.

“Did what?” Malfoy pushed, clearly unfazed by anything he had said.

Her heart was starting to beat slightly faster, nervous to bring it up. What if it had just been another mistake? But this time seemed different. “You called me Hermione.”

Malfoy stood there in silence, not quick to defend himself like he had been the last time he inadvertently called her by her first name. It seemed like something so silly to be fixated upon, but in thirty years, he had only called her Hermione twice.

Suddenly it felt infinitely hotter in the room. Malfoy must have felt it too because he pulled the collar around his neck. “Merlin, this is not the way I wanted to tell you,” he muttered under his breath.

Hermione bit her lip, anxiously waiting for Malfoy to divulge whatever it was he wanted to tell her. She sat back on top of her desk, hoping to get a bit of air farther away from him, but Malfoy instantly closed the gap.

Malfoy quickly took a breath. “I know I said that it had been our kids who created the plan to meet at Diagon Alley, and that’s true, but…” Malfoy paused, as did Hermione’s heart. Hermione scooted closer to the edge of her desk as she bit the inside of her lip, resisting any sort of facial reaction. She desperately needed him to complete that thought. He seemed nervous, apprehensive, hesitant to continue. But eventually he did. “When Scorpius approached me about going, I already knew you’d be there that day. I had heard you and Potter making your plans. And I guess, I…”

He placed his hand on her thigh and Hermione couldn’t determine if her heart had stopped or if it was beating so fast, she simply couldn’t register it anymore.  With his other, he brushed a few strands of Hermione's hair away, and caressed the edge of her face.  He was looking at her intensely, and Hermione couldn't look away.  She opened her mouth slightly to breathe in more oxygen.  Otherwise, she feared she might pass out.

Hermione heard the click of the door opening behind her, and she couldn’t imagine a worse time for Alice to come into her office. Usually Alice at least had the decency to knock before entering!

Her back still to the door, Hermione kept her eyes locked on Malfoy, but he had already adverted his glance. Even worse, he had retracted his hand so that they were no longer connected. His face turned stern, hand hovering over his wand pocket.

Concerned by Malfoy’s reaction, Hermione turned around, but it wasn’t Alice at the door.

It had only been three days, but he looked at her like she was a complete stranger. He had a copy of the Daily Prophet clenched in his freckled hand. And without a single word, he turned around and rushed out of her office.

“Ron!” Hermione quickly called after him, but he was already out of earshot. Hermione quickly looked at Malfoy, but he remained there, staring blankly into the distance. In a moment of irrationality, Hermione ran after Ron, trying to catch him before she lost him in the bustle of the Ministry crowds.

Slightly panting, she found him outside of the elevators. He continued to not say a word, even as his ride arrived. She followed him inside, grateful that they had the compartment to themselves. Firmly secured in the cabin, Hermione grabbed her wand and shouted immobulus, stopping the cart in its tracks.

“I should have bloody known,” Ron laughed to himself.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Hermione snapped.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Ron snarled. “Or are you that blind?” He used his own wand to disable Hermione’s charm, putting the elevator back in motion.

They stood there in silence as the elevator descended to the atrium level. As the doors opened, Ron turned to Hermione. “Let’s not bother even trying when the kids are gone. I’ll just get the rest of my things then. It’ll be easier on the kids that way.”

Hermione stood there frozen as he left. She knew she should be more upset than she was. In fact, Hermione’s only concern at the moment was how the children would react. She herself was absolutely fine. In a way, she was doing better than she had been in a while. Harry probably wouldn’t take the news too well, though. At least he wouldn’t be surprised. Malfoy, on the other hand…

Malfoy.

She had left Malfoy in her office! Hermione quickly pressed the button back to her office. He had just been in the middle of whatever it was that he wanted to tell her! Oh, how she wanted to hear the rest of what he had to say! Malfoy said that he knew that she was going to be at Diagon Alley. He had wanted to see her, even if that meant spending the day with Harry, too. But he never answered her question about calling her Hermione.  That was essentially an answer in and of itself, though.

The more she thought about it, the more anxious Hermione was to get back to him. She helplessly pressed the button repeatedly, but it did nothing to speed up the elevator. Finally, the ding above let her know that she had finally reached her desired destination.

Hermione quickly burst open the door to her office, but it was too late.

Malfoy was gone.

Chapter Text

“Alice!” Hermione shouted to her assistant who must have just returned from lunch. Hermione paced back and forth in her office, frustrated by the visit of her estranged husband and sudden disappearance of Malfoy. She replayed the scene over in her head, trying to determine what Malfoy had been trying to tell her that seemed so intimate, yet not important enough for him to wait for her to come back.

Alice politely knocked on the door, as one should, before entering. “Yes, ma’am?” 

“Did you by chance see Mr. Malfoy leave my office some time within the past ten or so minutes?” Hermione inquired. She knew the chances were slim, but any clues she could find about her departure might help her put some of the pieces together.

Alice looked at Hermione quizzically as she paused before her response. Quickly, Hermione realized her unintentional mistake. It had only been that morning that the Daily Prophet had continued its allegations that she was somehow in cahoots with Malfoy to give him leniency. Hopefully Alice trusted Hermione enough to know how unwarranted the claims were. If Hermione’s own assistant fell victim to the lies spread by the paper, then it would be quite difficult to assure the public of the same.

The longer Alice waited to respond, the more Hermione was certain that she had in fact seen Malfoy. Finally, Alice spoke up. “I didn’t see him leave your office, but I did walk past him as he was leaving the building. He seemed quite perturbed about something and was muttering something to himself about how foolish he had been or something along those lines.” Alice rubbed her hands together, seemingly anxious even talking about the matter. “I wish I could be of more assistance, ma’am, but I didn’t think much of his presence at the time. Figured he had been in for more questioning. But if you want me to follow up…”

“No!” Hermione swiftly interrupted. She didn’t need her assistant asking around the Ministry about Malfoy’s behavior. It would only lead to certain perpetuation of the new rumor.   And more rumors were the last thing that the Malfoy family needed. “You’ve given me everything I need,” Hermione continued. “Thank you for your time, Alice.”

With that, Alice exited Hermione’s office, leaving her to contemplate the new information. Out of context, Malfoy could have been upset about a variety of things, especially his supposed connection to the Ministry Archives break in, but Hermione knew better. He thought that he had been foolish… but regarding what?

Prior to Ron’s disruption, he seemed to be in the midst of a confession - something that he had apparently been waiting to tell her. But certainly his admission about knowing that she was going to be at Diagon Alley wasn’t what had been on the forefront of his mind. There must have been something much greater at play here.

The last time he had confronted her in this fashion had been when he first told her about Astoria. Perhaps there was some new development in her health. Maybe they found a way for her to actually be cured… But that didn’t seem plausible. Malfoy certainly didn’t have a cheerful tone when approaching her. Yet he hadn’t been particularly melancholy, so she probably wasn’t getting worse either.

And then there was Malfoy’s body language. Just thinking about it made Hermione’s cheeks heat up slightly. He had been so intimate, closing the temporary gap that she had created, touching her thigh, brushing her face.

But the most peculiar part still remained what had prompted his confession in the first place. He had called her Hermione.

How on earth were all these pieces connected and what would he have said if Ron hadn’t come? 

Ron most certainly had been just as perturbed by Malfoy’s presence as they had been by his entrance. Clearly Ron had read the article and had been quick to believe the paper, refusing to take a moment and filter if there was any truth behind its claims. The least he could have done was ask her if any of it had been true!

Instead, he had taken the easy way out, giving up on their marriage completely. Hermione tried to feel any sort of remorse for the unceremonial ending to over a decade’s worth of unity, but she didn’t. Just relief.

And a nagging feeling of not knowing what was going on inside Malfoy’s head.

Whatever had been on his mind seemed important to him, but Hermione didn’t want to push him farther than he was comfortable. As much as it pained Hermione to do, it was probably for the best that she gave him space until he approached her again – however long that may be.

During the meantime, she could still continue with her non-work related personal research project. They now had a new lead – whoever this Rolanda Reid woman was.

Hermione sat back down in her chair, currently satisfied with her analysis of the situation. Sure, she wasn’t much closer to having answers to any of her questions, but just thinking through the issues comforted her. She proceeded with the day’s work, keeping an eye on the clock until her next meeting which was only fifteen minutes away.

More importantly, there were only a little more than four hours to go until she could sneak back into the Ministry Archives and continue with the research that she found much more pressing.

*** 

Hermione spent the next two weeks thoroughly digging through the papers of the Daily Prophet, searching for anything written by Rolanda Reid, but just as she feared, it didn’t seem to lead her anywhere. Naturally, she continued to do her job as Minister, but whenever she had any sort of free time, which was admittedly seldom, she made her way to the Archives, looking for some sort of answer.

The days passed and Hermione grew increasingly anxious. Ever since Malfoy had left without saying goodbye, Hermione had had absolutely no communication with him. Rose continued to spend the majority of her time at the Manor, and even Albus was joining a few days, but Rose was responsible enough to Floo by herself, eliminating any reason for Hermione to stop by their home.

Hermione had promised herself that she would let Malfoy be the one who approached her again. But as the days came and went, it seemed increasingly likely that Malfoy wasn’t going to contact her. She had grown accustomed to at least some form of communication, be it surprise visits at her office, passing pleasantries at the Manor, or even a notecard delivered by owl. Yet she received not a single word from him.

Hermione knew that she was being selfish in some regard. Malfoy was almost certainly spending a lot of his time with Astoria at the moment. If what the doctors said was true, then it was only a matter of time until…

She didn’t even want to complete that thought. While she counted the days it had been since she had spoken to Malfoy, she also knew that those passing days also meant less time that she had to uncover the truth about Scorpius. Not only were Astoria’s days limited, but Hogwarts was only a few days away as well.

It was another late evening in the Ministry Archives and Hermione sat in the vacant room, surrounded by what seemed like an endless sea of newspapers. Try as Hermione might, she simply couldn’t figure out a way to put all the pieces together. The time was already nine o’clock, but she wasn’t too concerned. Rose, Hugo, and supposedly Scorpius were spending the evening at the Potters so it wasn’t as if she needed to rush home. Then, suddenly, an idea popped into her head, and without giving herself the opportunity to retreat from the plan, she gathered as much of the materials as she could, properly checked them out of the Archives, and headed towards the atrium fireplaces.

In an instant, Hermione showed up in the Malfoy Manor, arms full of backlogs of Daily Prophets.

“Hello?” Hermione bellowed through the halls, waiting to hear some indication that she was not alone in the massive home. Usually by now, she would at least be greeted by Jibsey or some other house elf, yet she remained alone. Hermione took it upon herself to look around the house in search of Malfoy.

After eliminating the majority of the first floor, she eventually went upstairs, reaching a door that was closed shut. Hermione carefully maneuvered herself so that she could twist the door handle without dropping any of the newspapers, and creaked open the door. Inside, she was greeted by a stone-faced Malfoy, who sat alone in the room except for the flicker of a single candle and the glass of whiskey in his hand.

“What do you want?” he groaned.

Hermione wished her stomach hadn’t dropped the way that it just had. This was not exactly how she imagined he would greet her after so long. Maybe she would have expected a response like this earlier in the summer, but by now, she anticipated him to sound a least a bit happy to see her. After all, they were had essentially become friends, sharing things with one another that they wouldn’t have imagined back at school. Yet the tone in his voice was reminiscent of those hostile years of their youth. Regardless of his apparent malice, Hermione would not let this deter her from her mission. She haphazardly straightened out of the pile of newspapers and plopped them down next to Malfoy.

“You can’t come to the archives, but I can bring some of the archives to you,” she resolved, but Malfoy only snarled his lip more.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Granger,” he retorted, not even glancing at her or the newspapers.

“Me avoiding you?” Hermione nearly shouted. “I have done nothing of the sorts! If I recall correctly you were the one who left my office! And I notice that we’re back to calling me Granger, huh?” The heat flared to Hermione’s cheeks, irritated beyond belief at his audacity to be blaming this on her!

“You seem so keen on me calling you by your first name, yet I see no attempt on your part to call me Draco,” he responded, seemingly completely uninterested by her presence.

Hermione nearly laughed at his suggestion, but then thought otherwise. As much as she hated to admit it, he did bring up a valid point. If she did in fact consider him a friend, why wasn’t she calling him by his first name? Yet the mere notion of it seemed wrong and foreign to Hermione, causing her stomach to flip summersaults inside of her. She strangely liked when he had called her by her first name, but for some reason, she just couldn’t get herself to do the same for him. How could she expect him to do it when she wasn’t willing to do the same? Coming to this impasse, Hermione decided to drop the issue for the time being and return to more significant issues.

“When you left my office the other day…”

“Forget that the conversation even happened,” Malfoy interrupted her, a rise appearing in his voice. “What I was saying was irrelevant, foolish, and unimportant, so drop it.”

“I still want to know what…”

“Drop it!” Malfoy barked, his voice now fully irate and expression livid.

Hermione took a step back away from him. In all the time that they had spent together over the past few weeks, well, couple months at this point, he had never been angry with her. He had certainly been annoyed, irritated, and upset about particular situations, but never with anything she had done. For the first time, he was actually mad at her.

She stared back at him, but his eyes did not soften one bit. Over the two weeks of their non-communication, Hermione had never even considered that the reason had been that he was upset with her about something. It wasn’t as if she had done something wrong in the situation! What had he expected her to do? Not run after her then husband?

At this point, Hermione wished she had ignored Ron entirely, letting Malfoy continue what he was saying. It certainly would have made this whole situation easier. But even if there were still time turners, she knew it would be completely irresponsible to manipulate past events. She would just have to deal with her position as is.

“Look,” Hermione fired back. “You can be angry with me all you want, but you and I have a deadline, and it’s coming up soon. Hogwarts is in a few days, and we’re not much closer to our goal. I’ll drop the topic, if you stop being so angry, and we can actually get some research done, alright?”

Malfoy snarled again, but in begrudging acceptance, he set down his drink, filling his hands instead with the stack of newspapers. “If we’re going to be looking through these papers, then we better go to a room more suited for research,” he said as he exited the room.

He hasted down the hall, Hermione keeping her distance from him, theorizing that any wrong move would continue to set him off and potentially cause him to change his mind. Seeing this side of Malfoy again was unsettling, as if the time they had spent together over the past several weeks had been completely obliviated from his memory and he was forced to spend time with a childhood nemesis. Hermione longed to see that other side of Malfoy again, the one that was oddly compassionate at times, cared for this son beyond belief, and made snide yet humorous remarks. That Malfoy made her smile, actually enjoying her time with him. But at the moment, she imagined there was a three meter barrier surrounding him at all times.

Eventually they reached the end of a corridor that Hermione had not yet been to in the manor. Malfoy pulled back the enormous, heavy doors, revealing a massive room, teeming with thousands upon thousands of books. Never in all her days had Hermione seen a private collection quite so large. Rose had said that the Malfoys had an impressive library, but she had not done it justice.

Malfoy headed straight towards a long oak table in the middle of the room, but Hermione was too distracted by the glittering spines of the surrounding books. The books varied in age, from seemingly new to evidently hundreds of years old. Some of them appeared so ancient that Hermione was hesitant to even touch them, fearful that any disturbance would result in some sort of damage.

“Are you just going to continue to waste my time, Granger, or are we actually going to investigate these papers?” Malfoy growled from across the room. As he spoke, something snapped in Hermione, no longer tolerating this renewed strain in their relationship.

“What has your wand in such a knot!” Hermione cried, her voice echoing throughout the various chambers inside the library, making it seem even more intimidating that she had intended. Hermione stormed closer to Malfoy, slamming her hands on the table.

“Well aren’t you quite testy today,” Malfoy sneered back, again, refusing to answer Hermione’s question. “What’s the matter, Granger? Weasley not satisfying all your needs?”

Typically when Malfoy would say such a retort, he would at least show some sign of enjoyment - a smirk, a laugh, a wink – but not this time. It seemed strangely out of character, and it continued to reaffirm how much Hermione did not like spending time with this Malfoy. And she most certainly didn’t like him bringing up Ron, especially by making any sort of sexual reference!

“It’s none of your business what’s going on with me and Ron!” she bellowed back. If he was going to be this cold to her, then she certainly would not be sharing what was happening in her personal life!

“Oh!” Malfoy shouted, their already heated conversation quickly turning into a full-blown argument. “I bare my soul to you regarding Astoria, yet you won’t provide even a measly Weasley detail?”

“Why do you care?” Hermione insisted.

Malfoy arose from his seat, a Daily Prophet clenched in his hands, and closed the distance between himself and Hermione, now essentially yelling in her face. “Does it matter why I care?”

“Yes, because otherwise you’re just being a nosy prat!”

“Is that all that you think that I am?”

“Of course not, but that’s what you’re being right now!”

“So be it! What’s going on between you and Weasley?”

“Oh you just won’t quit, will you!”

“And you just won’t answer!"

“Maybe because there’s nothing to report!”

“And why is that?”

“Because he and I are over!”

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione!” Malfoy threw down the newspaper and pressed his hands to her cheeks. Before Hermione could fully register it, Malfoy brought his face closer to hers, and kissed her.

Hermione’s eyes were wide open, in shock with what was happening. Just moments ago, he was being down right rotten, but now this? Time seemed to slow down as she processed the unraveling scene. She stared at him as he scrunched his eyes shut and kissed her with desperation. She stood there motionless, not knowing how to respond, not kissing him back, realizing that this was the first new man who had kissed her in over a decade.

The initial shock began to disappear, and Hermione slowly became less tense. In fact, she began to actually enjoy the kiss. She started to flutter her eyes shut and move her hands around Malfoy’s back, but before she could, as quickly as the kiss had started, he pulled away.

In her mind, the kiss had seemed like forever, but in reality it had lasted mere seconds. Now fully removed from her, Malfoy backed away even farther, a flash of panic etched across his face. He quickly masked these feelings with feigned indifference. He picked the newspaper off of the ground and returned to his original seat.

Hermione remained standing, still processing the past minute. Just moments ago, she had been furious with him. His indignation, resentment, and hostility. Yet the kiss washed away all those frustrations, leaving her just confused. For those few seconds, she felt like she had the old Malfoy back, and she liked it. But that side of him quickly retreated to the shadows, leaving this antagonistic Malfoy still in his place. She watched as Malfoy sat in his seat, flipping through the Daily Prophet as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

He cleared his throat slightly, and finally spoke up. “Are we going to get to this research or what?”

Good Godric, was he sincerely going to pretend like he hadn’t just kissed her! “Get on with the research?” Hermione shouted. “You just kissed me!”

“Well, it was evident that you needed some sort of stress relief, and if Weasley isn’t around anymore, then someone else had to do that job.” Malfoy pulled at the collar around his neck, and continued to proceed with his act. “What did you expect, Granger? I’m still a married man.”

His last words resurrected the pit in Hermione’s stomach. For a matter of moments, she had forgotten all about Astoria. But did Malfoy really mean that? Even Malfoy had admitted to her that their relationship wasn’t the same as it had been before her sickness. But telling herself that didn’t make Hermione feel any less guilty about the situation.

Malfoy continued to stare down at the Daily Prophets, averting Hermione’s questioning gaze. She pulled out the chair next to him, grabbing one of the newspapers, but only for show. She had already read each of these papers dozens of times, and knew that she would glean no new information when her mind was distracted by something else.

Through the strands in her hair, Hermione chanced several glances at Malfoy. He seemed to be just as on edge as she was. He was tapping the table with his fingertips as he bounced his leg up and down at an increasing speed.

Hermione replayed the scene of their kiss over and over in her head, growingly slightly more flush each time. Malfoy was trying to deny it, but she could see right through his pretenses. That had been no accident, and it certainly wasn’t “stress relief” as he so innocently claimed. Hermione already missed the feeling of his lips pressed up next to hers. Malfoy’s lips had been soft, delicate, and nothing like Ron’s constantly chapped ones. The memory made Hermione bite her lip, trying to savor Malfoy’s lingering taste.

Hermione couldn’t help but feel like Malfoy wouldn’t be reacting this way if she had just kissed him back. He probably thought that she didn’t like the kiss, that she didn’t want to reciprocate. Regardless, that didn’t change the fact that he was, like he kindly reminded her, still a married man. He had made a commitment to Astoria, and Hermione had made a commitment to Malfoy that she would unravel the lies surrounding Scorpius. She was intent on making sure that both of them kept their promises.

After a couple hours, however, Malfoy and Hermione remained no closer to their goal.

“This is bloody pointless!” Malfoy exclaimed, breaking their silence.

Hermione set down the paper in her hands, relieved that Malfoy had come to the same conclusion as she had, though not with the same level of frustration.

“It’s not completely pointless, but I don’t think looking at the papers are helping us much, anymore,” Hermione stated, much more calmly than her counterpart. “We could, however, go directly to the source.”

Malfoy reclined in his chair, crossed his arms, and stared directly at Hermione, “You’re going to have to share with the rest of us that little plan that’s currently forming in your head.”

Hermione sighed. Malfoy was clearly still agitated, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt right now. “We keep trying to read between the lines of these articles, but at this point, it might be more helpful to just talk with the writers at the Daily Prophet. I’m sure I can fabricate some reason to need to speak with them, and Alice can set up a meeting for me and Rolanda.”

Malfoy remained quiet for a bit, seemingly mulling over Hermione’s plan, but eventually submitted. Calling it an evening, they accumulated all the papers. Malfoy did his best to flatten out the edition that he had crumbled up, but it still remained bent in several places.

“I’ll, um, let you know how the meeting goes,” Hermione stumbled, unsure of how to end her evening with Malfoy. It was now past midnight and she desperately needed to go home if she was going to get any semblance of a decent night’s sleep. She began to pick up the pile of newspapers, but then turned back around to Malfoy. Before second guessing it, she closed her eyes, and gave Malfoy a quick kiss on the cheek. When she backed away, she noticed that Malfoy, too, had closed his eyes.

Hermione bit her lip again and grabbed the newspapers, leaving behind the library and a dumbstruck Malfoy.

Chapter Text

“Good morning!” Alice greeted Hermione the next day.

Hermione had just arrived at the office, but she already knew what her first business of the day would be me.

“Good morning!” Hermione merrily responded. “I actually have something I need for you to do for me as soon as possible.” Hermione found a scrap of paper on Alice’s desk and wrote a single name on it, handing it to her assistant. “I was reading through the Daily Prophet and read Rolanda Reid’s piece on the Malfoy investigation and would like to set up a meeting with her to discuss if she’s found anything out. As you know, we still haven’t found the culprit for the break in, but perhaps she’s found something that we haven’t.”

Not that Hermione needed to give any sort of explanation as to why she was setting up the meeting, she was after all, Minister of Magic, but it would be more suspicious if she didn’t at least have some sort of motive for the meeting.

“Of course, ma’am,” Alice abided as always. “You know, I actually spoke with Rolanda Reid just a few weeks ago. Had the most delightful conversation. I can’t remember much about it, but she was lovely. I’m sure she’ll be willing to help.”

Hermione gave a short sigh of relief as Alice wrote the request to the Daily Prophet. Alice handed it over to Hermione to read over, and giving it her approval, Alice left to find a Ministry owl to deliver the request. If what Alice said was true, then hopefully her meeting with Rolanda would go smoothly.

Around lunchtime, Alice received a response, confirming an appointment time for the next morning. Hermione looked at her calendar and instantly became anxious. Tomorrow was Thursday, which meant that it was August 31^st, only a day before Hogwarts. Hermione sincerely doubted that just one meeting with Rolanda would provide all the answers that she needed, which meant that she was likely to have Scorpius leave for Hogwarts still tainted with the rumors and his parentage.

Hermione lightly slammed her head against her desk. At school, she always aimed to complete all of her assignments a week before their deadlines. If she put them off more than that, it would have stressed her out and wouldn’t leave her enough time in case something went terribly wrong. But with this, she had not only failed to be ahead of schedule, but would completely miss the due date. And this was not just a late assignment. It was a child’s wellbeing.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to stay at work late that evening, desperately searching for any more clues prior to her meeting, but she knew that she had her own children to take care of. Rose and Hugo had learned to be rather self sufficient in their father’s abundant absence, but she wanted to be there in the impending days before Hogwarts.

At five, Hermione made sure to put down what she was doing, and headed straight home to her children.

“Mum!” Rose called out, racing towards her mother still in the fireplace. “I need your help!” She grabbed her mother by her hand and pulled her into her bedroom.

Rose’s bedroom, typically neat and tiddy, looked as if an erumpent had stormed through. Clothes and books were scattered everywhere with Rose’s trunk completely empty.

“I need you to do that charm that makes the inside of my trunk bigger,” Rose insisted. “I tried to pack it several ways, but I simply cannot get everything to fit!” She looked up at her mother expectantly, and Hermione just laughed. Hermione dug into her pocket, pulled out her wand, and did as her daughter wished.

Rose hugged her mother and immediately started putting her spellbooks into the bottom of the trunk. Hermione took a seat on the bed next to the trunk as her daughter continued to pack.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, I couldn’t be more excited!” Rose exclaimed. “In just two days, I’ll get to go to Hogwarts, Mum! You and Dad always made it sound so wonderful and I cannot believe I finally get to go!”

Through the wall, they could hear Hugo’s disappointed response. “Not fair!”

“It’ll be your turn next!” Hermione shouted back. She then returned her voice to a normal level to continue her conversation with Rose. “I’m going to go prepare dinner, but I’m so happy for you, dear.” She kissed Rose on the forehead, and proceeded to the kitchen.

In the midst of cooking, Hermione heard a tap on a nearby window. Outside was the sleek black owl that she had come to recognize as Malfoy’s. She let the owl in, who swooped inside, dropped off the card, and then sat on the counter waiting for a response. Hermione picked up the note and read it quickly.

I apologize for my behavior the past few weeks. Thank you for never giving up on me or Scorpius. Meet at King’s Cross on Friday?

Hermione grabbed a quill and notecard from the living room and jotted down her answer.

We’ll meet you at the platform at 10:45am. Early is on time, on time in late, and late is unacceptable.

Hermione laughed at herself, hoping that Malfoy would appreciate her “muggle nonsense.” She gave the note to the owl who promptly left.

When he was far off in the distance, Hermione held Malfoy’s card in her hand and read it over and over until the words were engrained in her memory. It wasn’t as if the note said anything particularly special, but it still made Hermione smile giddily. It meant that Malfoy was communicating with her again. And more importantly, he had apologized. She tucked the note into her pocket, and continued to cook dinner, a renewed joy taking over every action that she took.

***

The next morning, Hermione went directly to the Daily Prophet before going to the Ministry. She waited in the lobby until Rolanda Reid finally arrived.

“Minister Granger,” she greeted her, shaking her hand and bowing her head. “What a pleasure to meet you. I hope you haven’t been waiting long!”

“Not too long,” Hermione responded. “It’s nice to meet you too Ms. Reid.”

“Please, call me Rolanda,” she corrected, before directing Hermione to her office.

Rolanda led her through the maze of cubicles of the Daily Prophet. It was early in the morning, but the office was already bustling. Interdepartmental memos flew throughout the office, carrying messages of the latest news and sources. The back wall was made entirely out of glass, exposing the printing press, which spat out the thousands of copies of newspapers, ready for the day’s delivery.

As they walked through the series of desks, Rolanda proceeded to make small talk. “I cannot believe I have the pleasure of meeting with you today, Minister Granger,” she gushed. “I’ve always considered myself fortunate to work alongside Ginny Potter, although I’ve never spoken with her much. We work in very different departments, so I don’t have many opportunities, but still.”

They turned another corner, leading them to the private offices. Rolanda grabbed her wand and opened up the door, and motioned Hermione inside who took one of the chairs in front of the desk. A cup of hot tea was already waiting for them both.

“And what can I help you with today, Minister?” Rolanda took a sip of her tea, but immediately set it down, still too hot for consumption.

“As you know, the Ministry is still investigating the Archives break in from a month ago, and you were the one of the reporters to write about the investigation.” As Hermione spoke, Rolanda blew on her tea. It slightly bothered Hermione that she was not devoting her attention to the conversation. Nevertheless, she proceeded. “I know that the Daily Prophet often does its own investigation on these sort of events, trying to crack the story before we do, but is there any chance you have discovered something that we have not?”

Rolanda tapped her fingers on the side of her cup, deeming it the proper temperature, and took another sip. “You know that I cannot tell you information like that, Minister. In order to have the fullest integrity of the paper, we must remain completely independent from governmental affairs.”

Hermione subtly smirked to herself, knowing that she now had an open door to her real request. “But of course. The integrity of the newspaper is the most important. Your readers must be able to trust that your newspaper will always be truthful.”

Rolanda nodded her head in agreement. “Yes, we insist that every one of our articles are backed by nothing but facts.”

Hermione took a sip of her tea, letting Rolanda’s words settle. The conversation was going exactly as Hermione hoped. She just prayed it continued that way. “You know, it’s interesting that you say that, because I’ve noticed that in one of your most recent articles, you include a lot of hearsay. Claims that I’m working with Draco Malfoy and mentions that Scorpius Malfoy is that son of Voldemort?”

Rolanda set down her tea, for the first time, paying full attention to the conversation. She leaned in closer, her cheery, chipper tone diminishing from her voice. “If you read my articles, everything that I say as fact is fact. Anything else that I say is merely a suggestion. If my readers interpret it that way, it is on them, not me.”

Hermione did her best not to shout in Rolanda’s face. Nothing infuriated her more than twisting ones words in order to insinuate falsities. But she knew better. Causing a scene at the Daily Prophet would not be good for any of the parties involved. Hermione forced herself to somewhat relax and through gritted teeth, responded, “Isn’t that just a form of lying though?"

Rolanda let out a short laugh. “All of our suggestions are based on facts though! You were spotted with Draco Malfoy and the facts are that he’s a suspect, and you’re Minister. Even you must admit that is suspicious!”

“And what about Scorpius Malfoy?” Hermione proceeded.

Rolanda sat back in her seat, seeming a bit more hesitant about that question. “That rumor is so old it’s essentially just a part of the public knowledge anyhow. Psh, it’s as old as Scorpius Malfoy himself.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward as close as she could. “Surely you aren’t accusing me of sparking that rumor, Minister? I didn’t start working here until the end of 2008, and I’m absolutely certain that you can find evidence from before then.”

Hermione now matched Rolanda, leaning in, staring at her unwaveringly. “I am making no such claim, Rolanda. And of course, I have no authority over the Daily Prophet, but if I were you, I’d make sure that what you say continues to be nothing but facts.” She rose from her seat, Rolanda doing the same. “Thank you for your time.”

Rolanda gave a short nod, letting Hermione see herself out.

Hermione contemplated stopping by and saying hello to Ginny whose office was probably just down the hall, but Hermione needed to get back to the Ministry Archives as soon as possible.

Rolanda certainly started off nice, just as Alice had suggested, but as soon as she mentioned the Malfoys, it all began to crumble. Hermione thought back to what Malfoy had told her about Rolanda the first time that they discussed her. He had mentioned that Rolanda had been friends with Astoria at Hogwarts, but that clearly was no longer true. In fact, it seemed as if she had some sort of resentment towards the Malfoys.

More importantly, Rolanda had said that she didn’t start working at the paper until 2008 and that the rumors had already started by then. Rolanda herself may not have been helpful, but Hermione now knew that she needed to head back to the Archives and start reading through all the papers from that year. She had no time to waste. The Hogwarts Express left in a little over twenty-four hours. Any Minister work she had to do could surely wait until after the train left. She had a deadline she needed to meet.

*** 

Hermione spent literally all day reading the newspapers from 2008, but could not find the inception point. By summer of that year, the rumors were already out there. She found a couple articles that included snide comments like “as questionable as Scorpius Malfoy’s parentage”, but no definitive start. It all seemed similar to how Harry had been treated the summer after fourth year, but the orchestrator of that had been Minister Fudge. There was little that Hermione knew for sure, but she was absolutely certain that Kingsley had not been behind these allegations.

She read the time on the clock and saw that it was already significantly past five. Hermione’s heart dropped. She had failed. She hadn’t found the source of the rumors and Scorpius would be leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow. Hermione wanted to keep going, to continue searching throughout the night if that’s what it took, but she couldn’t do that to Rose. Regretfully, Hermione returned the papers and went home.

She spent the evening doing the final preparation for Rose, making a special dinner of Rose’s favorite meals, and playing exploding snap with both children, until it was finally time for them to go to bed.

Hermione tucked Rose in bed and kissed her on her forehead. “Sleep tight. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

Hermione proceeded towards the door and had already turned off the lights when she heard the soft mumble of Rose’s voice. “I know you’re worried about Scorpius, Mum, but he’s gonna be alright. He’s got me and Albus.” Rose shuffled her body a bit in bed, and sunk deeper into the covers, falling asleep.

It was a good thing that the lights were already off because otherwise, Rose would have seen her mother begin the tear up. She was so proud of her daughter, not letting the rumors influence her opinions, using her own logic instead. Hermione had felt so defeated by her failure, but Rose’s simple statement made her feel much better.

There was one other person in the world right now that was feeling the same way as Hermione, though. If Hermione was feeling scared for tomorrow, she couldn’t imagine how Malfoy was reacting.

Hermione peeped inside both children’s rooms, assured herself that they were asleep, and then stepped into the fireplace, calling for Malfoy Manor.

***

She arrived at the Manor, and immediately started searching for Malfoy. It was very late in the evening, and most of the lights were already out in his place.

“Lumos,” Hermione whispered, illuminating the tip of her wand just enough for her to see. She covered the entirety of the first and second floors to no avail, and proceeded up to the third level. Hermione had yet to have been on this floor, and she hoped that she wasn’t crossing any barriers by doing so. At this rate, Hermione began to wonder if she was too late and Malfoy was already asleep, but then she heard whispers just a bit further down the hall.

Off in the distance, Hermione saw a crack of light from an ajar bedroom door. She muttered nox as she approached closer. Hermione was about to open the door completely when she was startled by a female voice.

“I know you’re upset, sweetheart,” the unfamiliar voice soothed. Within an instant, Hermione realized that she had stumbled upon Astoria’s bedroom. From inside, Hermione could hear subtle whimpers and cries. She peeped through the door’s opening and saw Scorpius cradled next his mother on her bed.

“I won’t go, Mum,” Scorpius said through the tears. “I’ll go next year. I don’t want to leave you.”

Hermione’s heart shattered into a million pieces as she fully comprehended what she was witnessing. If Scorpius was leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow, then this was very likely the last time he’d be seeing his mother. Hermione instantly felt guilty for eavesdropping on their conversation, but she was much too captivated to tear herself away.

“Nonsense,” Astoria said calmly. “You’re eleven and now’s your turn to go to Hogwarts. You’ll regret it if you don’t go.” Scorpius continued to cry at her bedside while Astoria grabbed a bag off of her nightstand. “I got you something for tomorrow.”

Scorpius perked his head up, and wiped away the stray tears that remained on his face. “You didn’t need to get me anything, Mum.”

“But you’re my sweetheart,” she laughed, handing him the bag. “It’s filled with all your favorite candies. Fizzing Whizbees, Shock-o-Choc, Pepper Imps, and some Jelly Slugs. You know what they say…”

Astoria gave Scorpius a light nudge and he smiled. Together they sang, “Sweets, they always help you make friends.”

Watching it was just too much. She closed her eyes and wiped away the tears that were beginning to fall down her face, when suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder. Malfoy stood behind her, handkerchief in hand. Hermione took it and let the tears stream down her face. As she cried, Malfoy took her into his arms, letting her rest her head upon his shoulder.

He rubbed her back gently with his hand, slowly comforting Hermione. Hermione would never admit it to Rose, but she was scared to see her go off to Hogwarts. She herself had had a wonderful time at Hogwarts, but it hadn’t exactly been free from dangers to say the least! Rose was raised in a world in which she would hopefully be void of these issues, so Hermione knew the majority of her fears were irrational. For some reason though, she couldn’t help be have a small part of her be concerned. Scorpius, on the other hand, was entering Hogwarts with his reputation still soiled by lies. How was it that she was the one who was crying and while Malfoy remained so resolute?

Eventually, the crying stopped enough so that Hermione could assemble a sentence. She dabbed away the remaining tears, her eyes undoubtedly now red and puffy. “How can you stand this?” she whispered to Malfoy.

He lifted her head up by her chin and brushes a few hairs out of her face. “I’ve been mentally preparing myself for this day for a long time.”

She rested her head back upon his shoulder, finding comfort just standing there with him. Hermione admired Malfoy’s courage in the situation. Perhaps there was just a sliver of Gryffindor in him after all.

Finally feeling like she had shed all the tears she had inside of her, Hermione turned her head towards his without removing herself from his shoulder. “I met with Rolanda Reid today,” she stated calmly.

He paused, but then suggested, “Why don’t you tell me and Astoria together.”

Hermione had already been standing still, but now she felt petrified, “I don’t know about that,” she protested. “Scorpius is in there and I don’t want to interrupt.” He voice grew soft so that even Malfoy could barely hear it. “He’s just so sad.”

“I know,” was all he said before he grabbed her by the hand. Their eyes met and Hermione gave a short nod, indicating her approval. Malfoy knocked on the door before pushing it open, granting both of them entry.

Hermione did her best not to stare directly at Astoria, but she was too curious to look away. She hardly knew Astoria at Hogwarts, and even so, had not seen her in twenty years. She was reclined in the bed, propped up by several pillows, with Scorpius still by her side. In the full brightness of the room, Hermione could see how flush her face was. The Malfoys were known for their pale skin, and although she was not a Malfoy by blood, she made even their skin seem tan in comparison. On her nightstand sat an array of potions, all half filled.

Malfoy sat on the foot of the bed closest to Scorpius and placed a hand on his son’s leg. “Scorpius, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

Scorpius looked quickly at his mother, and his bottom lip started to quiver. Her wrapped his arms around her one final time. “I love you so much, Mum.”

“I love you, too, sweetie,” she assured him, not letting go of his embrace. “But this isn’t goodbye. I’ll write you every chance I get.” She squeezed him tightly one final time, and kissed him on the cheek. “Make us proud.”

Scorpius feigned a smile and regretfully left the room.

With him gone, she could tell the change in Astoria’s demeanor. Her cheerful façade collapsed, showing her true crestfallen expression.

Malfoy gave Astoria a half smile. “Hermione spoke with Rolanda today.”

“I doubt that she was very helpful,” Astoria sighed. “She’s had it out for us for ages.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Hermione mustered. “But I was able to discern a couple things from what she said.”

Astoria shook her head back and forth. “She used to be a much kinder soul, but it’s all just an act nowadays. Something died inside her after Crabbe, you know, actually died.”

Hermione perked up. “Why’s that?”

Astoria was growing faint, but she still managed to continue. “They were dating at the time of his death.”

Hermione shot a glance at Malfoy. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“It didn’t seem relevant,” Malfoy said with a shrug.

“Absolutely anything could be relevant! I can only complete the puzzle if I have every single puzzle piece!”

“If it’s a 5,000 piece puzzle, missing one piece isn’t going to stop you from figuring out what the big picture is.”

Hermione glared back at him, but he just smiled, clearly entertained by himself.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Astoria joked. “He still seems to think that he’s the most clever person in the room at all times.” She cracked a smile, but suddenly her eyes fell shut, her whole face turning lax.

Malfoy quickly grabbed one of the potions from her nightstand and hastily poured a spoonful of it down her throat. He closed her mouth, helping her limp body swallow the liquid, and within a few moments, she came back awake. She and Malfoy shared a concerned look, perhaps knowing that her time awake was now limited.

With her renewed energy, Astoria directed her attention to Hermione, a bit more shaken than before. “I cannot thank you enough, Hermione. You’ve taken care of my son and Draco when I wasn’t able to.” Hermione looked down, feeling flattered, but slightly uncomfortable, like she was intruding on an intimate Malfoy family affair. “I know that someone will be there for them even when I am gone.”

Hermione gave a slight smile, but she couldn’t fully accept Astoria’s gratitude. “I didn’t stop the rumors, though,” Hermione objected.

“You can never fully stop a rumor once it’s out there,” Astoria commented. “But you did so much more. A few months ago, I never would have dreamed that Scorpius would be so excited about going to Hogwarts. Sure, he’s sad at the moment because of me, but in his heart, he knows he’ll enjoy it because he’ll have Rose and Albus by his side. And that was all your doing.”

Hermione looked at Malfoy who was staring back at her. It wasn’t entirely her doing. She wouldn’t have been able to do it if it hadn’t been for Malfoy approaching her in the first place. But she wasn’t going to fight the details when Astoria’s time was so precious.

“Thank you,” Hermione finally accepted. Malfoy gave her a quick nod, and Hermione understood that it was time for her to go. “I promise you, Astoria, that I will always do my best to keep your son safe.” Before she exited, she quickly turned to Malfoy. “And, I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.”

“10:40,” he responded. “Early is on time.”

Hermione smiled and left the room, leaving the door slightly open just like how it was when she got there. She was about to proceed back to the stairwell, when she heard muffled cries coming from a room just two doors down. Knowing that there were only four people in the manor at the time being, she went to comfort Scorpius who must have been having a difficult time falling asleep.

“Scorpius?” Hermione said softly as she knocked on the door.

The noises stopped momentarily, just long enough for Scorpius to reply, “Come in.” Hermione opened the door and saw that Scorpius was huddled in the corner closest to the door. “If I listen closely, I can still kind of hear her voice.”

Hermione slumped down on the floor next to Scorpius and rested her hand on his knee. “I can only imagine what you’re going through,” she sympathized. “I know it’s not nearly the same, but when I was younger, I had to obliviate my parents’ memories so that they completely forgot I exist. For nearly a year, I couldn’t contact them at a time in my life when I could really use a parent’s support. I know that it’s tough right now, but you’ve still got your father and he would fight Lord Voldemort himself to protect you.”

Scorpius smiled a bit, and that was all that Hermione could hope for at the moment. He rested his head on her shoulder and Hermione leaned hers on top of his. She’d grown to care for Scorpius very much over the past few weeks and was almost as sad to see him leaving for Hogwarts as she was about Rose. They remained at rest in this position for a few minutes until it seemed like Scorpius’s tears had finally subsided.

Gently, Hermione removed her head, signaling for Scorpius to get up. He stood and proceeded into his bed.

“Do you need anything?” Hermione asked. Scorpius shook his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

Hermione backed out of Scorpius’s room and clicked the door shut, but lingered outside just a while longer to make sure that he didn’t resume his crying. Deeming it safe to finally leave, Hermione walked back down the hallway. But as she walked past Astoria’s bedroom, she found herself sucked into another conversation.

“She’s a lovely girl, Draco.”

Hermione stopped mid-step. She knew it was wrong and that she shouldn’t eavesdrop yet again, but she had the gut wrenching feeling that this time, the conversation was about her. She remained hidden on the side of the doorframe, close enough to hear, but completely out of their line of sight. Her heart beat out of her chest as she anticipated Malfoy’s response.

“Yes, well, Scorpius and I are very lucky to have her as a friend.”

Hermione’s heart sank. Is that all that he thought of her? She had been so consumed with the investigation that she hadn’t permitted herself the time to really decide what she actually wanted with Malfoy in their post-kiss reality. It had seemed like a futile conversation to have with herself. He was, after all, still married. But that hadn’t prevented Hermione to subconsciously still hold out hope that perhaps he felt that there could be something more between them.

She wanted to walk away before her heart could be hurt any further, but she remained frozen, needing to hear if there was anything else.

“You can’t fool me,” Astoria peacefully replied. “I saw the way you looked at her, the way you acted around her. Admit it, you’re smitten.”

Hermione’s cheeks turned flaming hot as her heart beat faster and faster. She pressed her hands against her chest, hoping that she could force it to stop pressing so loudly. She would easily pay fifty galleons to see Malfoy’s face right now. Was he reacting in a similar fashion?

Malfoy remained silent, or perhaps he said something that Hermione just couldn’t hear. Either way, Astoria continued on. “Come off it, Draco! You’re acting like the same man I used to see when we were younger, back when we were in love. You’ve put your life on hold for so long, and now it’s time for you to do something for you.”

Hermione couldn’t stand there any longer, having already heard plenty. Maybe Hermione wasn’t so insane to think that there was a possibility of something more with her and Malfoy. Astoria at least seemed to think so.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to have heard Malfoy’s response, but not like this. Maybe he wasn’t ready. He was, after all, still married. But what if he was ready? In which case, she wanted to hear it from him. But actually from him, not from his voice through the door.

Now that the possibility of her and Malfoy increased, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How on earth would she be able to face him tomorrow morning?

Chapter Text

Finally back in the safety of her own home, Hermione found it very difficult to fall asleep that night. She kept rolling back and forth in bed, unable to appease her racing mind. Tomorrow was the big day. Rose was leaving for Hogwarts. But tomorrow brought so many other mysteries along side that.

She thought of Malfoy. The feel of his lips pressed up to hers, the apprehension in his face when he pulled away. She wanted to be near him again, have his hands all over her body. In her fantasy, she closed her eyes, but when she reopened them, she was no longer with Malfoy. It was Ron, his expression stiff and unyielding. They were at the Ministry, and she was reliving the memory of him walking away from her.

Hermione sat up in bed, shaking the dashing images from her mind. With everything else going on, she had nearly forgotten that she’d have to see Ron tomorrow. While she and him weren’t exactly on the best of terms at the moment, they both agreed it was for the best that they at least arrive at the Hogwarts Express as a family. It obviously wasn’t public knowledge that Ron had all but moved out, so it would have been suspicious if he didn’t arrive with them. Rose already had so many new things to experience with the start of the Hogwarts years. The last thing Hermione wanted was for all the children to ask her what was going on between her famous parents.

Hermione rubbed her hands over her eyes and moved upwards, massaging her temples. Please get out of my mind, she begged her own brain. But it seemed fruitless. The image of Ron wouldn’t escape her mind. The disbelief on his face as he saw her with Malfoy in her office. The look of betrayal as they rode down the elevator in silence. And now the three of them would all be together at Platform 9 ¾ in… Hermione looked at the clock… less than ten hours.   She needed to sleep… She needed to sleep… She needed…

“MUM!” shouted Rose, shaking Hermione violently. Hermione sprung open her eyes, startled to realize that it was morning. She sat up in bed, trying to get her bearing. Rose looked at her with wide eyes, indicating that she needed to pick up the pace. “Dad’s already here.”

That certainly got Hermione’s attention. She swung her legs around so she was now seated on the edge of her bed. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress Ron or anything, but she would have appreciated at least a bit more warning before he showed up.

“Tell your father I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Hermione instructed Rose. She gave a quick nod and leaped out of Hermione’s room. “And see if he’ll start boiling a cup of tea while he waits!” she shouted after her. If he was there early, then he might as well be helpful.

Hermione strolled into the bathroom and examined the reflected sight before her. There was no denying it – she looked incredibly exhausted. The late nights doing research and sticking around Malfoy Manor past midnight were taking their toll on her skin and were evident in the massive bags accumulating under her eyes. She took out her wand and applied a glamour charm, but even that could only cover up so much. Hermione would just have to accept that this was as good as it was going to get today.

Her hair was another monster all on its own. Loose curls stuck out at weird angles and it was frizzier than normal. Recognizing the helpless case, she pulled her locks into a ponytail. She sighed at herself in the mirror. It would have to do.

Physically prepared for the day, Hermione left the solitude of her room, even though she wouldn’t complain if she had a couple more hours to mentally prepare. Ron was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, two prepared cups of tea resting on the table in front of him.

Upon seeing her, Ron fumbled as he stood up to greet her. “Hey,” he exhaled with a slight smile.

Hermione let out a mental sigh of relief. He was being civil. “Hi,” she said back. With any luck, they might make it through the day without causing a scene. Hermione grabbed the tea off the table and took a seat on the sofa next to Ron. “How’s the shop doing?”

“It’s good,” Ron responded. “Bloody busy the past week. Ran out of stock of a lot of items. But a really good week for business.”

They smiled at each other, but then both simultaneously drank from their cups, unsure how to proceed with the conversation from there.

After a couple moments of awkward silence, Ron piped up. “How’s, um, the investigation going?” Hermione quickly racked her brain. Had she told Ron about her investigation about Scorpius’s parentage? She couldn’t ever remember bringing it up with him. In fact, she had actively avoiding the subject with him, knowing that he would just insist that her efforts were pointless. Sensing her hesitation, Ron continued. “I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it cause of Malfoy, I understand. I can just hear about it from Harry.”

Instantly Hermione understood. “Oh!” Of course he was talking about the Ministry Archives break in. “Still not much progress. I’m getting nervous that we’ll never catch the culprit at this point.”

They both took another sip of tea, but the silence was thankfully interrupted by Rose. “Dad! I can’t lift my trunk off my bed!”

Ron set down his cup. “I’ll be right back.”

After a few moments later, he was back, carrying the trunk towards the front door. As soon as he put it down, Hugo immediately bombarded him. “Dad!” he cried.

“Hey, kiddo!” Ron exclaimed back, swooping Hugo off the ground. “How’s that flying going?”

Hugo was beaming, glad to be back with his father, even if just temporarily. “I’m tired of practicing on toy brooms, but Mum says I can’t get a real broom until I’m old enough to go to Hogwarts.”

“Well how about we just sneak you onto the train today and say that counts. How does that sound?”

The two boys looked overjoyed at the thought of it, but Hermione gave Ron a warning glare. It was all well and good for Ron to say these things when he didn’t have to then be the no-fun parent who has to deny the child. Catching Hermione’s eye, Ron set Hugo down. “Uh, why don’t you go check on your sister? We’ve gotta leave fairly soon.”

Hugo scurried away, leaving the two parents alone again. “You know you can’t indulge him like that,” Hermione criticized, but making sure that her voice was soft enough that the children couldn’t hear.

Ron frowned. “What’s the harm? I can’t be nice to my son the limited time I get to see him?”

“Of course you can!” Hermione retorted while still keeping her voice at a whisper. “But you know how I feel about brooms!”

“Just because you were never good at Quidditch doesn’t mean you shouldn’t let Hugo have a broomstick. He’s plenty old enough at this point.”

“That’s not the reason why! He could easily fall off and hurt himself!”

“No he won’t! He’s had plenty of practice on the toy…”

They heard the opening creak of Rose’s bedroom door and they immediately stopped their bickering.   Hermione flashed a smile and then elbowed Ron to make sure that he followed suit.

“You all ready, dear?” Hermione asked Rose.

“Couldn’t be more ready!” she announced proudly.

“Off we go then!” Ron proclaimed. “I’ve got the car parked out front.”

*** 

Hermione and Rose ran through the barrier of Platform 9 ¾ at precisely 10:38 am. The platform was already bustling with witches and wizards of all ages, families all preparing to see their children off for the start of another school year. Hermione looked around expectantly, but couldn’t see any white blonde hair.

Slightly disappointed, Hermione directed her attention to Rose. “Why don’t you go put your trunk in a compartment on the train?” Hermione suggested.

“I can’t do that yet!” Rose insisted. “Everything has to be perfect today,” she stated matter-of-factly. “It’s the first day of Hogwarts. The first day of my own adventures there! You, dad, and Uncle Harry all rode together on your first Hogwarts Express, and while our stories don’t exactly match, I refuse to sit with anyone other than Albus and Scorpius today.”

Hermione smiled at her daughter’s grandiose plan. “You’ve thought this out, haven’t you?”

Rose looked back at Hermione perplexed, as if it would have been preposterous for her to have acted otherwise. “It’s the start of a new generation at Hogwarts. A Granger-Weasley, a Potter, and a Malfoy. Only this time, we won’t hate the Malfoy.” Rose paused for a moment, her eyes transfixed on the brick wall behind Hermione. “Speaking of which!”

Hermione turned around and saw Scorpius emerge from the brick barrier, pushing along a cart with all his belongs. Malfoy was not far behind, Spavin’s cage in hand. Scorpius directed himself to Rose and Hermione, the children embracing.

Pulling away, Scorpius’s mouth hung agape, staring in wonderment at the scarlet train. “A 4-6-0 Hall Class steam locomotive model number GWR 5900! I had seen it in pictures, but it’s even more magnificent in person!”

Malfoy strolled up behind Scorpius and placed the owl on top of his belongings. “You might want to start keeping some of those facts to yourself or people might start thinking there’s going to be a Ravenclaw Malfoy.”

Hermione crossed her arms in indignation. “And would that be the worst thing in the world?”

“A Ravenclaw Malfoy? That’s like saying a Slytherin Potter.” Hermione gave Malfoy a menacing look, but he just laughed at her. “You don’t scare me, Granger,” he teased, a coy smirk plastered across his face. He looked back at Hermione, locking eyes for a moment, but Hermione shyly averted her gaze to the floor, remembering his private conversation with Astoria from the night before.

“Look, Mum!” Rose called, bringing Hermione’s attention back to the present. “I can see Teddy with Victoire off at the end of the platform!” She turned quickly to Scorpius. “Have you ever met Teddy Lupin before? He’s like your first cousin twice removed… or whatever your grandmother’s sister’s grandson makes him.”

“I believe that makes him my second cousin,” Scorpius corrected her. He looked at Malfoy hopefully. “May I meet him, father?”

“You may go.”

Scorpius smiled wide, and eagerly followed Rose towards Teddy.

Hermione looked at Malfoy impressed. “Sure this won’t get you burned off The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black family tree?”

Malfoy scoffed. “If I wasn’t already, I think I sealed my fate when I kissed a muggle-born the other day.”

Hermione’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest upon his acknowledgement of the event. She wanted to tell him, tell him that she wished she had kiss him back, but as her luck would have it, another pair of bodies emerged from the nearby wall.

Spotting the flaming red hair headed their way, Malfoy stared at Hermione irritatedly. “I thought you said you two were over,” he snarled through pursed lips.

“We are,” she assured him. “But Rose is just as much his child as she is mine.”

“Don’t remind me,” he growled.

As Ron approached closer, he recognized Malfoy’s presence aside Hermione and instantly grimaced. Ron ruffled Hugo on top of his head and whispered something in his ear. Immediately, Hugo ran off, joining Rose and Scorpius at the end of the platform. Finally within reasonable earshot of Hermione and Malfoy, Ron scowled, “Of course you’re here.”

“I could say the same about you,” Malfoy hissed. Hermione quickly elbowed Malfoy on his side, hoping to stifle any further hostile remarks between the two adversaries.

“Did you park alright?” Hermione asked in desperation to change the topic.

“Parked just fine all by myself,” Ron declared with satisfaction. “I’ve told you a million times, just because I may or may not have confounded the examiner doesn’t mean I can’t manage to park a car.”

“Driving a muggle vehicle?” Malfoy asked. “What’s the matter? Can’t transport yourself by magical means?”

Ron grew red in the face, and Hermione sensed that despite her initial efforts, the tension between the men was growing heated fast.

“Not here, Malfoy,” Hermione implored. “You two can duke it out all you want in private, but can we at least make it until eleven o’clock?”

Malfoy grabbed his pocket watch out of his robes and read the time. “Survive sixteen more minutes? I guess I can make due.”

“If it’s so difficult for you, why don’t you run off and hang out with your own wife?” Ron fired back.

Hermione immediately expected the worse. She impulsively grabbed Malfoy’s arm, preparing to hold him back if necessary, but soon discovered that there was no need. Malfoy hadn’t budged an inch and his wand remained secure in his pocket. He wasn’t even looking at Ron. He was looking at Hermione.

“You didn’t tell him?”

Hermione eyed Malfoy confusedly. She had never once even considered telling Ron. It was something that he had confided in her and was in no way her secret to divulge. “Why would I tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Ron looked back and forth between Hermione and Malfoy, waiting for either one to answer. Hermione remained silent. She couldn’t tell if this meant that Malfoy actually wanted her to tell Ron or if he had just been surprised that she hadn’t already. His question remaining unanswered, Ron began to get angry. “Look, if there’s something going on between the two of you…”

“Astoria’s dying, you tosser,” Malfoy swiftly interrupted.   “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to have a few more moments with my son before the train leaves.” Having said his piece, he turned away from the former couple.

Ron stood there astonished. “Well now I feel like a prick,” Ron sputtered. He let out a slight laugh. “To think, all this time I thought you two were off doing it without me knowing!”

Hermione’s heart stopped and she gulped, hoping that her face didn’t convey the guiltiness that was building up insider her. Ron was, of course, wrong, but he wasn’t completely mistaken. Is that why he had been so upset when he had seen the two of them in her office?

“Hey, look, Harry and Ginny are finally here!” Ron exclaimed, his sour mood from before completely dissolved.

Ron eagerly waved, and Harry caught on, directing his family in their direction. Lily ran into Ron’s arms.

“Uncle Ron. Uncle Ron!” she shouted.

“If it isn’t my favorite Potter!” he said with a massive smile on his face. He quickly picked her up and spun her around.

“Do a trick Uncle Ron!” Lily demanded.

“Hmm,” Ron paused for a moment while he thought of what to do. “Now this one is still in testing, so you’ll have to tell me how you like it.”

Making quite the show out of it, Ron waved his hand and mumbled a mixture of nonsense. “Bing, bang, bong, got your nose!”

Off in the distance, Rose and Hugo were walking towards them. Rose saw the spectacle her father was creating and groaned in dismay. “You promised not to do that embarrassing ‘trick’ in public, Dad!”

“You may have asked, but I made no such promise,” Ron defended. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you Lily?” Lily nodded her head in enthusiastic agreement. “See, Rosie, it’s not lame.”

The Potter and Granger-Weasley families stood all together, complete for the first time in months. They were getting quite a few stares from the surrounding onlookers, but they continued on normally. Ron counted each individual person in the circle.

“Let’s see here. We’ve got four adults and five children, but I count five Gryffindors. What do you think, Rose and Albus? We gonna make that seven today?” He turned and faced Rose directly. “If you’re not in Gryffindor, we’ll disinherit you, but no pressure.”

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Fine, fine. I don’t mean it.” Ron lowered his voice slightly, and added, “But seriously, if you get Slytherin, we will disinherit you.”

Hermione still looked at Ron judgingly but was relieved to find that he was just making a joke. For the first time in ages, it felt like she and Ron could be friendly with one another again.

“Come on, Rose, let’s get your stuff into the train.” Ron suggested.

“No way!” Rose protested. “Not without Albus and Scorpius!”

“Well Albus is right here, and I bet the Malfoys won’t have a problem if we bring Scorpius’s stuff on for him.”

Rose began to object again, but seeing the time, conceded. Rose picked up her trunk while Ron grabbed Scorpius’s belongings, both of them proceeding towards the train.

“You coming?” Rose called back to Albus.

“Uh, just a minute,” Albus squeaked, his first words since entering the platform.

Harry crouched down to Albus’s level. “What’s the matter, son?”

“What if I’m in Slytherin?” he whispered to his father.

“Then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won’t it?” Albus nervously smiled at his father. “It doesn’t matter to us, Al. But if it matters to you, you’ll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.”

Albus looked at his father surprised. “You mean I have a choice?”

“Of course you have a choice,” Harry responded. “You’re a grown boy now. Old enough for Hogwarts! And we’ll love you no matter what.”

Albus smiled again, a bit more certain of himself now. “You know, maybe it won’t be so bad if I get Slytherin. After all, Scorpius will probably be in Slytherin, too.”

Harry did his best to conceal a grimace. Hermione knew that Harry would prefer if Albus did get sorted into Gryffindor, but she appreciated his efforts to appease his son’s fears. “All I want is for you to be happy,” he finally concluded. Albus wrapped his arms around his father and lugged his trunk onto the train just as Ron was returning.

“Make a right and Rose is in the third compartment on the left.” Ron instructed Albus.

The four adults and their remaining children stood in a line, waiting for the train to leave. There were only a few more minutes until the train embarked. Hermione looked around for Malfoy. It’d been ten or so minutes since she’d seen either him or Scorpius. She was slightly worried, but figured that they were undoubtedly having a more emotional departure than most other children.

Finally, off in the distance, Hermione saw them heading their way. She left the side of Ron to meet them halfway. Scorpius’s eyes were a bit red, but he was hiding his sadness well. She bent down and gave him a hug.

“Have a wonderful time at Hogwarts, Scorpius, and let me know if you ever need anything.”

“Where are his things?” Malfoy asked.

“We’ve already put them on the train.”

Malfoy let out of a grunt and then turned to Scorpius. “Be safe, and don’t get caught up in whatever antics the Potter child gets into.” Hermione glared at Malfoy, but he smiled back. “And definitely don’t trust that Granger kid. I hear Grangers are nothing but trouble.”

Hermione let out a snorted laugh. Scorpius, though, just looked confused. “But I thought you liked Rose?”

Malfoy shook his head back and forth. “It’s a joke, son. But I’m glad to know that Ravenclaw is no longer a viable option.”

The train sounded its horn, giving the students a final warning.

“You better get on the train, Scorpius,” his father instructed him.

Scorpius hugged his father tightly, and Malfoy looked at Hermione, eyes wide, shocked by the sudden sign of affection. When he peeled away, Scorpius appeared a bit embarrassed. “I know Malfoy men don’t hug, but I’ll miss you, Dad.”

Malfoy kneeled onto the ground and hugged his son back. “I’ll miss you, too.”

“Come on, Scorpius!” shouted Rose through one of the train’s windows. “The train’s gonna leave without you!”

Scorpius smiled back at his father one final time and then dashed on board.

The train started to pull away, and Hermione and Malfoy rejoined the other adults. The adults shouted out their final messages of wisdom and advice.

“Give Neville our love!” cried Ginny.

“Don’t forget Hagrid’s invited you to tea next Friday!” shouted Harry.

“Make sure you beat Scorpius in every test, Rosie!” bellowed Ron.

Malfoy stared at Ron.

“Beat him at Quidditch while you’re at it!” Ron added.

They continued to wave at the Hogwarts Express until it was far off in the distance, and rounded the corner, officially out of sight.

“He’ll be alright,” Ginny murmured to Harry.

“I hope so,” Harry sighed.

Malfoy tugged Hermione by the arm and dragged her away from the others. The surrounding crowd had quickly all but disappeared, yet he still pulled her behind one of the far barriers, blocked from the sight of the few stranglers. “Why didn’t you tell Ron about Astoria?” he asked Hermione through curious eyes.

Hermione didn’t know why this was such a surprise to Malfoy. “It wasn’t any of his business,” she responded simply.

“And he never asked why you were at work so late and why Rose kept coming over?” Malfoy inquired, increasingly suspicious.

Hermione had to think back. Things with her and Ron had deteriorated so quickly, it was hard to remember what events lined up. “He and I weren’t exactly communicating much back then.”

“This was a month ago,” Malfoy pressed on.

“And your point?”

“You and Weasley didn’t end things until recently.”

“That’s not actually true,” Hermione corrected him. “We’ve been apart since before Diagon Alley.”

Malfoy stared at her completely shocked, slightly hurt. “And you waited until Tuesday to tell me?”

Hermione blushed and started to babble. “You had so much going on with Asotria, and Scorpius, and the Archives investigation, and…”

Malfoy knew exactly how to shut her up. He leaned forward and reconnected their lips. He tasted even better than Hermione remembered, but his lips were just as soft. This time she didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. She immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer to her. He reciprocated by taking her by the waist and removing the bit of space that had been between them in the first place.

She wanted to keep going, to keep the embrace, the warmth of his lips pressed up to her own, but she knew it had to stop. “Not here,” she regretfully moaned between kisses.

“Let me take you to lunch then,” he muttered as he planted kisses along her jawline. 

“Can’t,” Hermione groaned. “Ron’s coming over.”

Those words seemed to be the countercharm for Malfoy’s kisses. He immediately withdrew himself. “You just told me it was over between the two of you,” Malfoy said, anger and betrayal starting to rise in his voice.

“No, no!” Hermione defended. “It’s not like that! He’s getting his things today.”

Malfoy’s face immediately lit up. “Well, in that case, I have no objections.” He gave her one final kiss, biting her lower lip as he pulled himself away from their momentary embrace.

Hermione kept her eyes closed, hoping that he’d come back, but when he didn’t, she bit her lower lip, trying to recreate the feeling she just had.

“We better go back before they start to wonder where we are,” Malfoy advised, a smirk spreading across his face.

He walked away, but Hermione lingered back just a little while longer, her heart swelling out of her chest. She wasn’t sure who was giddier at this point: Rose on her way to Hogwarts or Hermione feeling butterflies for the first time in years.

Chapter Text

Hermione and Ron reapparated into their home in welcomed silence. Harry and Ginny had agreed to take Hugo for the afternoon, giving them the opportunity to have Ron collect the last of his belongings. 

It felt strange for it to be just the two of them back in the space. They had bought the small London flat years ago, even before Rose was born. The flat had been where they had formed so many of their young newlywed memories together. It was where they had solidified their trust in one another, celebrated each other’s successes, and raised two wonderful children together. But now it was where their story as a married couple was coming to an end.

Ron immediately roamed into their former bedroom, now Hermione’s own, and searched through the bookshelves for the things he had left behind just a month prior. He grabbed a book off the shelf, and Hermione immediately protested.

“Hands off!” she complained while perched on the corner of her bed. “You gave me that one as a present!”

It was an early copy of Hogwarts: A History that Ron had given to her on their first wedding anniversary. Just thinking about it made Hermione reminisce about simpler times.

Ron put the book back in its spot and joined Hermione on the bed. “I wondered if you even remembered,” he sighed, letting his body fall back onto the soft comforter.

“Just because it didn’t work out in the end doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten it,” Hermione explained.

She had been with Ron essentially her entire adult life. Her childhood had been consumed by the war, and in the wake of its aftermath, they sunk into each other, finding comfort in being with someone who sincerely understood what the other had been through. And it worked work a while. A long while.

But here it was, twenty years after the war, and Hermione had come to realize that she and Ron had outgrown each other. It didn’t mean she didn’t still care about him. He’d been her friend for too long for that to go away. So, no, she’d never forget, even the little things like what presents he had given her.

Ron let out an exasperated sigh. “Geez, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” He looked at her and chuckled, breaking the tension between them.

Hermione laughed along. “Yeah, I know.”

They continued to scan around the flat and eventually deemed the place “Ron-free.” Ron put his final item into a box and Hermione used a sticking spell to shut the tabs closed. 

“That’s that.” Ron declared, looking around at the room.

To Hermione’s surprise, it didn’t seem much emptier than it had been before. The stone chessboard was now missing from the coffee table, but Hermione would be able to quickly fill the space with some other trinkets. And she had to admit that she was quite relieved that the giant poster of the Chudley Canons was removed from the living room wall. She had wanted to take it down weeks ago, but Hugo had insisted on it staying up until his father took it.

“Hey,” Ron said as she turned to Hermione. “What do you say to one final butterbeer?”

Hermione smiled. “I’d like that.”

Ron went into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of butterbeer out of the fridge. He twisted off their tops, handing one of them to Hermione.

“To fourteen years of marriage,” he pronounced.

Hermione laughed. “To fourteen years.”

They clinked their bottles together, and took a sip. Both sat down on the sofa, taking refreshing sips of the beverage.

“You know,” Ron started off, “you seem really relaxed right now. Better than you had been for a long time.”

One look at Ron and Hermione knew that he was sincere. “I feel a lot better,” she affirmed.

Ron now frowned a bit. “I should’ve left a lot sooner if we were creating that toxic of an environment for each other.”

Hermione set her butterbeer down on the coffee table, and turned towards Ron. “Don’t put it on yourself,” she reassured him. “There was a lot more to it than that. We had my work, your work, and an impasse on how to do things at home anymore.”

“I know,” Ron agreed. “In the end, it’ll be for the best.” He titled back his butterbeer, letting the final sips of it fall into his mouth. “I’m grabbing another. You want one?”

Hermione shook her head, and Ron got up to go back to the kitchen.

She sat there on the couch and thought about their present conversation. The distance apart from each other had been good. It was hard to believe that the last time she had seen him before this had been when he had stormed out of the Ministry elevators. The separation had given them the ability to have more perspective on their differences and let the hostility subside.

Yet Hermione had a nagging feeling that she hadn’t been able to kick since earlier in the day. Her marriage with Ron may be coming to a close, but by no means did she want to lose him as a friend. And as his friend, she knew she needed to be truthful to him and come clean. No more half-truths and lying by omission.

Ron returned to the sofa, new butterbeer in hand, and slouched on the sofa, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Now was her chance.

“Ron,” Hermione started off, looking down at the floor. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Ron removed his feet from the table and sat up, slightly concerned. “What is it, ‘Mione?”

Hermione continued to look down, fidgeting with her hands, afraid to look at Ron as she said it. “You said earlier today that you thought that Malfoy and I were sleeping together, and I didn’t say anything because we’re not, but I think it’s only fair that you know that…”

Hermione paused for a moment. What were she and Malfoy? There was obviously something going on. He had just kissed her again for Merlin’s sake! Yet they weren’t dating. Or hooking up as Ron assumed. But they weren’t nothing.

“… Well, Malfoy and I are… I, uh, I think we like each other.”

As soon as Hermione said it, she realized how childish it sounded, like they were back in the Gryffindor common room, gossiping about whom they fancied. But they certainly weren’t back in their school years because back then, the words “Hermione Granger has a crush on Draco Malfoy” were about as likely as “Professor Snape gave Neville a passing grade in Potions.”

Hermione looked up at Ron who just stared at her in disbelief. His eyes were wide and he went several seconds without blinking. After a few moments, he brought his hands to his forehead and pushed the hair back out of his face, gripping onto it at its base. He remained dumbfounded, completely lost for words. He opened his mouth a few times, but each time shut it shortly after.

“Ron?” Hermione asked, making sure that he was still able to process words.

“I’m gonna need a moment,” he finally uttered. He stood up and paced around the room for a bit, before stopping in front of the sofa. “I mean, I thought there was a chance that there was something going on between you two, but to actually hear it…”

“I know,” Hermione said. “It kind of just… happened.”

Ron continued to shake his head back and forth in shock. “When did it start?”

“Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?!” Ron fired back with a mixture of surprise and laughter. “Wait, you’re telling me that there was nothing going on with you two back in your office?”

Hermione started to stammer. “I think I knew back then that I was interested, but I would have never acted on it.”

Ron let out a huff. “Can’t say the same about Malfoy.”

“Actually,” Hermione correct him, “he didn’t make a move until I told him that you and I were over.” She blushed at the memory of their impromptu first kiss back in the library. “I think he was waiting to make sure that he wasn’t impeding on our marriage.”

Ron seemed agitated, but was saying surprisingly calm given the present situation. “And what about his own marriage?”

Hermione looked down again. “That part’s a bit more complicated. As he told you, Astoria’s not well, and I can’t really go into the details, but I’m fairly certain she’s okay with it.”

Ron finally sat back down on the sofa and chugged his butterbeer in silence. Hermione watched on anxiously, way too nervous to touch her own drink. He turned towards her, and her heart sped up its pace, apprehensive about what would come next from him. But he remained composed and levelheaded.

“You really think he’s changed, don’t you?” he mustered.

Hermione closed her eyes and simply nodded. He had changed. She had no doubt. She knew it in both her heart and her brain.

“Well, hell, Hermione, I guess it’s your life now.” Ron lifted his bottle in a solo toast and finished it.

***

Her home was empty. Well, it was fifty percent of the time. Now that the summer holiday traffic at the shop had subsided, Ron had more flexibility with his work schedule. He had even found to time to rent his own flat above Diagon Alley. In the days after he officially moved out, he and Hermione arranged a schedule so that both of them would share the time with Hugo. Hermione missed having the company of at least one of her children, but she couldn’t deny Ron time with his son. And Hugo had desperately missed spending time with his father.

Hermione made a point of always coming home promptly on her days with Hugo. But on the off days, she often stayed at the Ministry until the dark hours of the night. It wasn’t like anyone was waiting for her at home, anyway. Furthermore, even though Scorpius was already off at Hogwarts, she never relented on her research. The deadline had passed, but that didn’t give her permission to give up.

It was another late evening at the Ministry Archives. The sound of her turning the pages of the newspapers echoed through the cavernous room, serving as a keen reminder that Hermione was the only one insane enough to stay there so late. At this point, Hermione might as well have kept a bed down there and just call it her home.

Each edition of the Daily Prophet blended together in her mind. She had read every single issue multiple times, determined that there must have been something that she missed. It just didn’t make sense.

The Malfoys had been portrayed positively in the press prior to 2007, and even a few months into 2008. But to the best of her knowledge, the first account of the rumor was from June 2008 in an off-handed comment that didn’t even directly claim that Scorpius’s father was anyone other than Malfoy. She was so frustrated that she could bang her head against the desk. At least it would be less painful.

It was because of moments like this that she kept three letters folded into her robes at all times. Hermione reached into her pocket and reread them one by one.

The first was a letter from Rose from the first day of school. To no surprise to her mother, but a huge sigh of relief to her father, she had been sorted into Gryffindor, maintaining their family legacy. Rose was ecstatic, determined to maintain to her parents’ reputation. She had been slightly disappointed, however, when both Albus and Scorpius had been sorted into Slytherin. But Rose assured Hermione that she would still spend time with them whenever permitted and would break house barriers during their shared classes. The letter made Hermione laugh, thinking how she would have done the same thing in her situation. She truly was a mini recreation of her mother.

The next letter had been more unexpected. It was from Scorpius. The entire letter just detailed all the neat facts that he had learned in his classes that he thought Hermione might enjoy. Apparently his propensity to spew out random tidbits of information was not nearly appreciated enough in the Slytherin common room, so he needed an outlet to share the material when Rose wasn’t around.   Hermione felt honored that he even considered sharing a letter with her in the first place.

The last one wasn’t so much a letter, but a note, on the firm card stock emblazoned with the Malfoy crest. They had parted ways after Platform 9 ¾ and hadn’t had the opportunity to reconvene since. She wanted nothing more than to see him again, but while she was now mostly alone, Malfoy still had his hands plenty full. His note said nothing much. Just four simple words. I’ll see you soon. But each time she read them over, she still couldn’t help but grin.

Feeling much calmer, she folded the notes back up and returned them to the safe location in her pocket, redirecting her attention back to the much less interesting Daily Prophets. Hermione knew the answer had to be somewhere in 2008. Logic told her so. She traced through her memory any clues that she had.

Back at Diagon Alley, Malfoy had said that the rumors must have started sometime between Scorpius’s birthday and the summer. Scorpius was an April birthday, so the answer had to be somewhere in April, May, or June. Maybe if she read through the papers just one more time…

Hermione prepared for the tedious task, stacking each paper in order according to its month. But when she finished doing so, something became blatantly apparent. She looked under the desk and found nothing. In a bit of a scurry, she went back to the filing cabinet, but again, couldn’t find what she was looking for. Hermione carefully retraced her steps, looking high and low, yet it was to no avail.

The newspaper from May 2^nd, 2008 was missing.

And Hermione wouldn’t have been so concerned if it hadn’t been for the fact that the date was the ten year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.

A bit unnerved by the missing newspaper, Hermione hastily returned the newspapers to their proper location. Yet another rereading was no longer necessary - she now had a new lead for her investigation.

The possibilities raced through her mind. The anniversary of the battle was always a sensitive time in the wizarding community as people reflected on the horrors of the date. During this time of year, people tended to be even more on edge about dark wizards than usual. If there was any time that people would be most susceptible to believing rumors about a potential son of Voldemort, it would most certainly be on the anniversary of the conclusion of the war – even more specifically on the ten year anniversary.

And now that particular newspaper was missing. What if whoever broke into the Archives had taken this newspaper as well and these events were somehow related…

Hermione tried to stop before she jumped to too many conclusions. There was still a possibility that she had left the newspaper at Malfoy’s the other week. Hermione looked at the time and saw that it was nearly two in the morning. There was absolutely no way that he would still be awake. Or at least she hoped as much.

Much to her chagrin, there wasn’t much she could do at that hour. Tomorrow would be another chance to finally end this.

***

Still tired from the lack of sleep, Hermione strolled into work just a few minutes before her designated start time. She took the seat at her desk, and started to read through the day’s Daily Prophet. Within just a few moments, though, she heard a knock on her door.

“Come in,” Hermione called.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Alice greeted her. Hermione returned the pleasantries, and Alice proceeded, a bit of hesitation in her voice. “Um, someone, is here to speak with you ma’am.”

Hermione put down the newspaper, now intrigued. “Already? The day just started.”

“I know, ma’am,” Alice continued. “But he insists that it’s urgent.”

“Yes, of course. Let him in.”

Alice backed away from the door, exposing Malfoy. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. Hermione’s heart leapt. Why hadn’t Alice just said that it was Malfoy? Hermione immediately stood up and walked to the other side of her desk.

He looked tired, even more tired that she undoubtedly looked at the present moment. His normally slicked back hair was disheveled around his face, and his eye bags were a deep shade of grey that indicated that he hadn’t slept in days. He even had the top button of the shirt underneath his robes sloppily unbuttoned. Hermione could only recall two other times in which he had looked like this: end of sixth year and when he had initially told her about Astoria.

She wanted to ask him about the missing newspaper, but the thought immediately left her mind. One look at Malfoy’s face and she knew.

He didn’t say anything. She walked towards him slowly, and then wrapped her arms around him. He immediately reciprocated, leaning his head against her shoulder. Hermione didn’t know how else to react, but at the moment, she knew that all he needed was to not be alone. He lifted up his head, and Hermione wiped away a single tear.

She looked at him deeply and whispered, “When’s the funeral?”

Chapter Text

A few days later, Hermione rummaged through her closet, looking for the proper thing to wear for the mournful occasion. The hangers screeched against the metal rod as she quickly scanned for something appropriate. Eventually, she managed to find a not-too-tarnished old black dress and slipped in on, wiggling herself into its fabric confinement. Her arms flailed around her as she finagled her way inside and zipped up the dress. She couldn’t help but reflect on how this would have been easier if someone had been around to provide a helping hand. 

There were still a few more hours until the funeral, but Hermione promised Malfoy that she would be at his place early to help set up. While Astoria’s death hadn’t been publicly announced, several people had heard through word of mouth. It seemed silly to Hermione that these people wanted to express their condolences when they hadn’t been in communication with the Malfoys in several years. If Hermione had to guess, most of the intended mourners were only feigning sympathy so that they could see the state of the Malfoy Manor after years of being essentially closed to visitors.

Astoria was to be buried on the Malfoy family grounds, next to Malfoy's own mother who had passed away many years prior. Apparently Astoria’s mother had been hesitant, but Malfoy insisted that it was important to Scorpius to still have a physical representation of his mother nearby.

While the guests would not start to arrive until noon, Scorpius, Albus, and Rose would be arriving at the Manor within the half hour. Hermione needed to hurry to make sure she was there before the children. She rushed into the bathroom, grabbed a few bobby pins and secured a few locks to the back of her head. The hairdo was simple, but the occasion didn’t warrant anything more extravagant. With a wave of her hand, she secured their position so that she wouldn’t have to tamper with them throughout the day.

Back in the main part of her room, Hermione grabbed her robe out of the closet and slipped on a pair of simple black heels. Taking a moment to compose herself, Hermione mentally assured herself that she had everything she needed and headed to the fireplace.

***

Hermione wandered around the Malfoy Manor grounds until she eventually found Malfoy in the back gardens, reading a scroll of parchment as he sat on a porch swing.

The surrounding yard was already prepared for the guests with rows of seats all facing the direction of a temporary platform. Rested on top of the platform was a body draped in black velvet adorned with silver stars, which Hermione knew covered Astoria’s permanently resting body. The bottom of the platform was decorated with flowers, camouflaging the edges so that it blended seamlessly with its surroundings. The environment was peaceful except for the muttered curses spewing out of Malfoy’s mouth.

“Quiches, pastries, soups? What the bloody…”

Hermione took a seat on the swing next to Malfoy who instantly stopped his mumblings and directed his attention fully on her. “Do you see this bloody list?” he complained, thrusting the parchment into her hands. “Astoria’s mother insists on all this food, but all to impress whom? I have no clue who the bloody hell she thinks is coming to this!”

Hermione looked at this list in her hands. Mrs. Greengrass had a long list of requirements for her daughter’s funeral, even though it seemed to Hermione that she had had minimal contact with Astoria the past few years. Nevertheless, she had been the one who requested the flowers, extensive menu for the post funeral reception, and a myriad of other demands.

Hermione put the list down in her lap and placed her hand on Malfoy’s thigh. “You don’t need to do it for them,” she assured him. “None of these people were here for Astoria the past few years. It’s more important that you and Scorpius have the chance to say goodbye.”

Malfoy let out of a sigh. “You’re right.” He closed his eyes and he shook his head back and forth.   “I guess I just forgot how difficult it used to be when we had people over all the time. Hell, back then, Astoria did most of the planning anyway.”

Hermione gently combed her fingers through his hair. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Malfoy caught Hermione’s hand and realigned it so that their fingers were now intertwined. “No. You just being here is enough.”

They smiled at each other, and then Hermione rested her head upon his shoulder as the swing rocked gently back and forth. She wished that she could just stay in this position with Malfoy. It was calming. At this exact moment, there was nothing else that they needed to deal with. It was just the two of them, alone in the soft end of summer breeze. Out here in the Malfoy Manor gardens, she didn’t need to be Minister of Magic, Malfoy wasn’t subjected to rumors or suspected of a crime, and there was no one else around who could hurt them.

But it was all just temporary bliss. The children would be there shortly and they needed to be prepared to concentrate their efforts on pacifying their sorrows, particularly Scorpius’s.

Hermione stood up, and extended her hand out to Malfoy. He grabbed it, pulling himself up. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly. He may not have been showing many signs of mourning, but she knew better. Malfoy had never been one to physically express his emotion, and he and Astoria may not have been the same as they had once been at the time of her death, but there was no way that today was going to be easy for him.

Their bodies lingered in the embrace for several moments until Malfoy finally released himself. “Scorpius and I will be sitting in the front row today with the rest of Astoria’s family, and if you feel comfortable enough, I’d like if you were up there with me.”

Malfoy looked at Hermione, trepidation in his eyes. Hermione wasn’t sure how she felt about having such a prominent spot at the funeral, especially sitting next to the members of the Greengrass family. But if Malfoy wanted her there with him, then the answer was simple. “Of course.”

The guests congregated in the drawing room as various witches and wizards slowly arrived at the Manor. Some of the faces Hermione recognized from years past. To little surprise to Hermione, many of Malfoy’s old Slytherin classmates were in attendance. Of course it was logical that Daphne Greengrass was there, but she was soon joined by Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Blaise Zabini.

Hermione remained in the corner as she watched them all enter through the green flames, apprehensive at the thought of making small talk with any of them. The old school friends huddled together in the center of the room, and she could feel their eyes piercing at her. She had to admit that it must have been very curious that she was there. While they probably had read about her and Malfoy’s friendship in the Daily Prophet, even they must be surprised to see the truth behind the stories.

She had no interest in faking conversation, though, and was absolutely certain that they felt similarly. Regardless, Hermione was much more concerned about focusing on Scorpius, who was presently sitting alone in a chair, stone faced, not a single trace of his typical inquisitive and jubilant self. He stared off in the distance, completely numb to the world.

“He’s been like this for days,” Rose explained to her mother. “We’ve tried to talk with him, but he just continues to sit there blankly.”

“Even the other Slytherins know something’s wrong,” Albus added. “I think they may have preferred his constant babbling to his sadness spreading throughout the common room.”

Hermione put a hand on each child’s shoulder. “Thank you both for being there for him. I’ll try to talk with him.”

Hermione slowly approached Scorpius who still had not moved a centimeter. He, like the other guests, was dressed in black, but his robes somehow seemed a darker shade than everyone else’s. The black starkly contrasted with his pale white skin and engulfed him so that he appeared smaller, more vulnerable.

She could only imagine what was going through that fast paced mind of his. Hermione herself was no stranger to funerals. It was just one of the many consequences of growing up in the middle of a war. But even she had never felt anything equivalent to this. Dumbledore, Dobby, Fred, Tonks, Lupin… The list could go on and on, but she had at least been a few years older and none of them were her parent.

“Scorpius, dear,” Hermione cautioned, knelling down to his level. “How are you holding up?”

He sulked his head low upon registering Hermione’s question as tears streamed down his face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Hermione stammered. “I didn’t mean to make you feel worse!” But Scorpius finally moved, peeling himself off of the chair, and wrapped his arms around Hermione as he continued to bawl.   She hugged him back, swaying him back and forth in comfort. “You know, the last thing I ever said to your mother was that I would always do my best to keep you safe, and I want you to know that that will never change.”

Scorpius brought a fist to his face, and rubbed away the excess of tears. He had to do it a couple more times until the tears were fully removed, but his eyes remained glossed over. He cracked a half-hearted smile at her and Hermione accepted that for the time being.

“I’m going to be sitting with you and your father during the funeral if that’s okay?” Hermione continued. Scorpius gave a slight nod of approval. “Do you want Rose to be up there with us to?”

Scorpius nodded again, but then weakly added, “Can Albus be there too?”

“Of course, dear,” she agreed. “You know that we’re all here for you.” Hermione motioned towards Rose and Albus who came up and joined Hermione and Scorpius near the chair. “I’m going to go find your father, but please Scorpius, let me know whatever you need.”

She gave him a quick squeeze on the knee and stood up, scanning the room for Malfoy. She unluckily found him conversing with his former classmates. Hermione took a moment to mentally prepare herself and make sure she looked poised and composed as she walked over to join them.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Hermione Granger,” chimed Pansy Parkinson. “Or do I have to call you Minister Granger now?” she added with a sneer.

“Pansy…” Malfoy said with an air of warning.

She overdramatically rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I remember. ‘Be nice to Granger’ or whatever.” She took a long sip from the glass in her hand. “I guess old habits just die hard.”

They stood there awkwardly, no one knowing how to proceed with the conversation. Hermione certainly had nothing to say to them, and they apparently felt likewise. Instead, they opted to uncomfortably glance back at the different members of the circle. Hermione looked cautiously at Malfoy who glared at Pansy who eyed Blaise who was staring off at the newly flamed fireplace.

“Salazar’s balls,” he cried. “Did you seriously invite Potter, too?”

Hermione turned around and to her surprise, Harry had just arrived, looking completely lost in the crowd. She glanced at Malfoy askance. “Seemed logical,” he whispered to her so that the others couldn’t hear. “Scorpius is friend with Albus, and well…” he hesitated and appeared as if the next words he was about to say were painful to utter. “Well, he’s the only other person I could think of who could relate to losing a parent.”

She could’ve kissed him right there. While she and Malfoy had grown closer over the past few months, she knew how he still was not thrilled at the prospect of having to spend any time with Harry. Sure, he had managed to do it at Diagon Alley, but their conversations had be terse and strained. Yet, on a day that was already bound to be difficult, he had set their history aside to do what he thought would help his son. It was exactly what Ron hadn’t done.

Hermione continued to look up at Malfoy in a bit of a shock. “Go on,” Malfoy insisted. “It looks like Potter needs a friendly face.”

Hermione resisted the strong urge to show him any affection. Not only would it shock the Slytherins, but it was completely inappropriate to do so at his late wife’s funeral. No one else there knew about the conversation from a few weeks prior, but even if they did, it still felt disrespectful to her memory.   So, Hermione settled on giving Malfoy a quick smile and abruptly left the circle without saying goodbye to find Harry.

“Harry!” she called out across the room. Spotting her, he quickly changed his trajectory so that he was now heading her way.

“Hey,” he exasperated once beside her. “I never like being back in this room,” he grumbled. “You doing okay?”

Harry was looking at Hermione cautiously and she quickly realized why. The last time the two of them had been together at the Malfoy Manor, she had fainted because of the wretched memories from this exact room. But come to think of it, she hadn’t been haunted by the painful past in months. Of course those moments would never dissipate fully from her mind, but she was finally back in a mental state where she could focus on other things.

“I’m doing well considering,” she responded to Harry. They were, after all, still at a funeral, so saying she was doing any better than that would have been unfitting.

“You know, I spoke with Ron the other day…” Harry started off, but Hermione stopped him.

“Not here,” she interrupted.

“I’m not going to talk about the divorce,” Harry continued, determined to finish his thought. “I was just going to say that he said that you seem good. And he sends his condolences, but figured it was better that he didn’t come.”

Hermione looked at Harry, impressed. “Well tell him thank you for me,” she responded. It was most certainly for the best that Ron wasn’t there. They didn’t need anything to add more stress to the day.

Across the room, they heard a loud cough, causing everyone to pause their conversations and turn towards its source. Malfoy was standing at an entryway, facing the crowd. “Please proceed to the gardens for the ceremony,” he announced with a stern emotionless face.

The crowd start to move and Harry turned towards Hermione. “Wanna sit together?”

“I’m, um, actually sitting with Malfoy,” she responded. Harry looked at her curiously, but Hermione had no time to give him any justification. “As is Rose and Albus, if that’s okay,” she added.

“Great,” Harry moaned. “Guess I’m stuck sitting next to Goyle then.”

Malfoy came up behind Hermione and placed a hand on her waist, but she quickly slapped it away. She gave him a sharp look, signaling her displeasure.

“Fine,” he directed to her and then turned to Harry. “Potter,” he said with a quick nod of greeting. Harry nodded back, but didn’t exchange any further words. “Well, we better head outside then.”

Hermione and Malfoy walked down the center of the rows of chairs and settled in the first row on the right side where Rose, Albus, and Scorpius were already seated. The Greengrasses were on the other side of the aisle and Hermione thanked her lucky stars that she would not have to deal with the awkwardness that could arise with her joining them. Malfoy sat directly next to his son with Hermione on his right, taking the seat at the end of the row.

The ceremony proceeded, led by a lanky man in plain black robes, who spoke vaguely about the journey of life and how it sometimes ends tragically short. Throughout the speech, Hermione regularly checked on Malfoy through the corner of her eye, never moving her head from facing forward. He remained completely stoic, seemingly impervious to the words. Once when she looked over, though, she caught him looking right back at her. He subtly moved his hand, grabbing her own, resting their conjoined limbs in between them so that it was barely noticeable. This time, Hermione didn’t protest.

Halfway through, the man called for Malfoy to approach the platform for his eulogy. Hermione gave his hand a tight squeeze as he stood up, joining the other wizard in front of the audience.

“Good afternoon,” Malfoy started. “I will keep this brief. Astoria saw the good in me when I myself couldn’t see it, and helped me transform into the man I am today. For that, I will always be grateful for the time we had together. She was an incredible mother and the best parts of her will continue to shine through in our son, Scorpius.”

Hermione looked over at Scorpius who was dabbing away his tears with his father’s handkerchief. Albus had his arm around him, providing additional comfort.

“For generations, the Malfoy family has had one priority. Family. My father engrained this in me from birth, and this continues to be my motivator today. While Astoria is gone, Scorpius and I will always have her in our hearts.”

Upon the end of his speech, Malfoy and the other wizard took their seats back with the crowd. Flames erupted around Astoria’s body, bellowing smoke above it. As the flames died down and the smoke disappeared, it revealed a tomb which now rested next to Narcissa Malfoy.

People started to file out of the chairs and proceeded back inside for the reception, but Hermione lingered behind, scanning the crowd. She thought back to Malfoy’s speech and instantly became curious.

“Malfoy,” she asked. “Why isn’t your father here?”

Hermione certainly wasn’t upset by Lucius Malfoy’s absence. Just the thought of him sent chills down her spine. But if the entire Greengrass family and Malfoy’s old classmates had managed to attend, where was Lucius? He certainly could have made a trip in from Paris for his daughter-in-law’s funeral.

“I don’t speak to my father,” he responded curtly, turning his back to her and walking down the aisle.

But Hermione pressed on. “What about Malfoy family allegiance? How could you say…”

Malfoy whipped his head around, now growing irritated. “Family has many definitions. Astoria was and Scorpius is my family. That is that.”

Hermione knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t resist. “But what about your mother?”

He approached Hermione and spoke in harsh whispered words. “After my mother died ten years ago, things just weren’t the same between me and my father. And then nine years ago…” But then he stopped, turned his back and stormed away.

“Malfoy!” she called after him, but he kept barging on. “Malfoy!” she cried again, yet he would not stop. “Draco!” she finally shouted, causing him to finally halt.

She rushed towards him, worried that otherwise he would dart off again. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she said. “But it just seemed odd to me.”

Malfoy smirked down at her. “I like when you call me Draco.”

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. “Is that what you’re getting out of this! I’m apologizing to you!”

“And apology accepted. All you had to say was the magic word,” he toyed.

“Well I said I was sorry,” she said with a huff.

“That wasn’t the word and you know it.”

Malfoy closed his eyes and leaned his head down, growing disturbingly close to her own, so Hermione pushed him away. “We can’t do that here,” she asserted.

He shrugged with a coy smile plastered across his face. “It was worth a shot.”

Malfoy and Hermione entered the reception side by side but as she entered, he immediately froze. She followed his frigid stare and quickly became irate herself. Across the room, Hermione could see the face of a woman she had only met once before, but she knew that this woman had no business inside the Malfoy Manor.

Hermione grabbed Malfoy’s arm. “You don’t want to cause a scene,” she pleaded, but it was too late. He removed Hermione’s grip and hastily paced to the other side of the room. Hermione rushed after him, fully knowing that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Quite the nerve you have showing up here today,” he snarled in a loud voice. The room around them hushed, listening in on the impending argument.

Rolanda Reid set down her glass and crossed her arms. “Oh, hello Draco,” she articulated. “Long time no see.” She glared at him, a subtle smile etched on the edges of her lips, clearly enjoying the commotion they were causing.

“You are not welcome here,” he fumed.

“And what’s the matter? Can’t an old friend pay her respects?”

“You bloody well know what’s the matter!” Malfoy bellowed. “Now get out of my house at once.” Malfoy raised his arm and pointed firmly towards the fireplace.

Rolanda set down her plate of food, taking her sweet time leaving. Malfoy remained resolute, as Rolanda traced her fingers through his hair and whispered something in his ear. As she drew away, she yanked his head back by her grip on his hair, only causing Malfoy to get even more upset.

“Get… out… now!” He shouted.

Rolanda gave a slight shrug of the shoulder and within another instant, she was gone. Before the green flames had even faded, the surrounding onlookers resumed with their conversations.

Hermione rushed towards Malfoy who was massaging the back of his head.

“She’s got quite the firm grip,” he moaned.

“What did she say to you?” Hermione asked.

Malfoy closed his eyes and shook his head. “Just some rubbish. Don’t worry about it.”

The other guests slowly left until eventually, it was just Hermione, Malfoy, Scorpius, Albus, and Rose left in the Manor. Rose and Albus stayed as long as Hogwarts allowed, but they too had to leave so that they could be back at the castle before dinner. Scorpius remained behind, permitted to spend a few more days at home to mourn.

The three of them ate dinner in mostly silence as Scorpius pushed the food around on his plate and Hermione and Malfoy exchanged concerned looks to one another. Harry had spoken with Scorpius, but honestly, it didn’t seem to have made much of a difference. Scorpius had pointed out that Harry couldn’t even remember his own parents, but when Harry mentioned that he had also lost Sirius, Scorpius continued to make excuses about how no one could truly understand. He seemed perfectly satisfied to remain locked in his own personal bubble of melancholy.

After a feigned attempt to eat, Scorpius pushed back his plate. “May I be excused, father?” he uttered, the first words out of his mouth since Rose and Albus’s departure.

“You didn’t eat a single thing,” Malfoy protested.

Scorpius crinkled up his nose. “I’m not hungry.”

Malfoy seemed unsure how to proceed from here. Even Hermione couldn’t think of a logical course of action. There wasn’t exactly a manual on how to handle a child’s depression after the loss of a parent. Unable to come up with a reason for Scorpius to stay, Malfoy excused him.

Scorpius left the dining room, closing the door behind him. Instantly, Hermione and Malfoy both set down their utensils.

“I don’t know what to do about him,” Malfoy lamented. “He can’t keep himself locked up like this forever.”

Hermione slightly shook her head. “He’s having a tough time right now, but he needs time to fully process it.”

“Process it? The boy’s had two years to process it! We knew this day would come!” Malfoy spluttered.

Sensing his frustration, she stood up from her chair and walked around the table to join Malfoy on the other side. “That’s easier for us to say as adults, but you said it yourself. He’s been in denial the entire time, thinking that you’d eventually find a cure.” Hermione pulled out the seat next to Malfoy and sat down, resting her hand upon his thigh.

Malfoy lowered his head. “I tried to warn him. Some things just aren’t worth putting your hope into.”

“I’d like to think that there are some things worth holding out hope for,” she combatted. “If we give up on everything, then we’d never see the things we want come to fruition.”

Malfoy turned towards her and smiled. “I can think of one thing that was worth holding out hope for.”

Her caressed the side of Hermione’s cheek bringing her face towards his. He started off slowly, placing subtle pecks along her lips, but with each kiss, his intensity grew. He glided his tongue along her bottom lip, which Hermione gladly lowered so that Malfoy could slip his tongue inside her mouth. She grabbed a handful of his robes, bringing him even closer to her, continuing to push herself onto him. Malfoy slowly began to pull away, his kisses growing farther in between until he removed himself completely.

Hermione brought her hands to her cheeks, which were now burning hot. “I, uh, should get going,” she stammered as she stood up from her chair. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Malfoy pulled her back in for one final kiss. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re always welcome here.”

Hermione smiled down at him and regretfully walked away. She would’ve stayed, but it still felt wrong in the wake of Astoria’s funeral. She left the dining room, and made her way to the third floor. She knew it would probably be futile, but she at least wanted to say goodbye to Scorpius.

Reaching his door, Hermione knocked before letting herself in. The lights were off inside his room and Scorpius was sitting up in his bed, bundled in a mass of blankets. He ever so slightly moved his head to look at her.

Hermione suddenly felt guilty for even intruding on his private hideaway. “Sorry to interrupt, Scorpius,” she rushed. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving, but I’m still always here for you.” Scorpius didn’t acknowledge, so Hermione gave him a soft smile before closing the door behind her.

She was nearly down the hall when she heard the door creak open. Scorpius exited his room, still huddled under the excess of cloth. “Hermione,” he said weakly. “If you don’t mind, will you please read me a story?” His eyes stared at her widely, anticipating her response.

Hermione let out a concerned sigh and immediately walked back towards him. “Of course I will.”

***

The next afternoon, Hermione was back at the Ministry, hard at work on the newest legislative proposal, when she heard a knock on her door.

“Come in!” she instructed, not lifting her head up from the parchments.

“Hey, it’s me,” came the familiar voice of one of her oldest friends. It had been quite a while since Harry had visited her in her office, usually resorting to interdepartmental memos due to their busy schedule. Hermione blew on the parchment so that the fresh ink would dry quicker as she set down her quill.  

“And how can I help you, Mr. Potter,” Hermione smiled up at him from behind her desk, but Harry did not seem to be in quite as cheery of a mood. His face remained emotionless. When he didn’t respond Hermione became quickly concerned. She looked down to his hands, which were grasping a scroll marked “Confidential.”

He set it down on her desk, still without saying a word. Hermione looked at him nervously as she unrolled the parchment and her heart immediately dropped.

“Certainly this can’t be true…” she uttered, barely able to comprehend what she was reading.

Harry looked at her cautiously, avoiding her statement. “I thought the Minister of Magic would like to know that there’s been a new development in the Ministry Archives break in.”

Hermione shook her head back and forth, still in denial. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Harry, you know this can’t be true,” she repeated.

“Like I said,” Harry urged, his voice remaining steady. “I thought the Minister of Magic should get a bit of a heads up. We found the pieces of hair down in the Archives this morning.”

She scanned the words on the parchment five more times, each time hoping that there would read a different name, but it didn’t change.

“Look, Hermione,” Harry pressed. “Today’s Friday, so I’m not going to make the arrest today, but unless we find contrary evidence by the end of the weekend, I’ll have no choice but to arrest Malfoy for the break in.”

Chapter Text

Hermione paced back and forth in her office, still trying to comprehend the news. 

“But it can’t be Malfoy!” she stammered. “I was with him that morning. I can testify for him! Surely that’s got to count for something!” She continued to move anxiously around the office, looking for some way to placate the anxieties that were quickly building up inside of her. She gripped her hair, shook her hands, tapped a quill, but nothing could appease her nerves.

Harry shook his head. “I know that, Hermione. And I can even confirm your story seeing you told me that while still at the crime scene, but we can’t vouch for what Malfoy had done earlier in the day.”

Hermione’s mind was traveling faster than a seeker who had just spotted the game-winning snitch. There had to be something that she could do! She imagined Malfoy being taken away by the Aurors, thrown into Azkaban, Scorpius receiving word while still at Hogwarts, just having lost one parent and the other being imprisoned a week later… The tears began to seep out of her.

“Harry,” she protested. “We have to do something!”

Harry looked at her and leaned in a bit. “Look, Minister,” he said clearly. “I’m not going to make the arrest today,” he repeated, “but I wanted to give you the heads up.” He stared at her, raising both eyebrows, and finally it clicked with Hermione. She gave a slight nod of understanding, which Harry replicated.

Harry coughed a bit and straightened himself out. “Well then,” Harry said. “Unless there are any questions, I should get going.”

Hermione nodded, still trying to choke back the remainder of her tears. Harry turned and closed the door behind him, leaving Hermione in solitude to calculate her next step.

Her hands still shook with apprehension, but she needed to get to work quickly. There was not a single moment to spare. As the moments passed, she began to fully process Harry’s announcement. There was no real reason why Harry needed to inform Hermione about the development in the case. He most certainly didn’t need Hermione’s permission to arrest Malfoy, especially if they had evidence against him. And there also wasn’t an official reason why he needed to wait until the end of the weekend to do it.

After thirty years, Harry surely still did not like Malfoy, but he knew that Hermione now did. And he was giving her the opportunity to stop the arrest before it happened.

There wasn’t much time. By her calculations, she had around sixty-five or so hours, which seemed like plenty, but when one accounted for the fact that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had the entire summer to find any other culprit, the prospect seemed bleak.

She did, however, have just one lead. There was still the chance that there was a connection between the missing newspaper and the Archives break in. Hermione collected her belongings and shoved them into her bag, immediately exiting her office.

“Alice, I’m taking the rest of the day off,” she informed her assistant. “Um, something came up.”

Alice looked at her concernedly. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

“Yes, yes,” Hermione blatantly lied. “Just, um, something.”

Hermione grabbed a quill and a scrap of paper off of Alice’s desk. She quickly scribbled a simple note on it.

Meet me at my place in an hour. Or sooner. Apparate, don’t Floo.

As she wrote it, her hand continued to quiver, leaving her handwriting much to be desired, but the message was legible, and that was all that mattered at the moment. On the other side, she wrote the letters DLM and gave it to Alice. “Take this to the owlery and make sure it gets out as soon as possible.”

Alice got up and immediately followed Hermione’s instructions. In a hurry, Hermione picked up her bag and rushed home, hoping that Malfoy would join her there shortly.

***

The minutes ticked by slowly as Hermione resumed her pacing in the comfort of her living room. The clicks of the clock echoed in the otherwise entirely silent flat. It was thankfully Ron’s weekend with Hugo, and she couldn’t be more grateful at the moment. Her heart beat in time with the clock, two beats for every second that passed. She felt like she was burning precious time that she could be doing something else, but she didn’t know where to proceed without his help.

It wasn’t safe to go back to Malfoy’s at this point. If the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was expecting to arrest him shortly, then they’d probably already be monitoring his fireplaces. Even sending him the owl was risky, but it needed to be done.

After what felt like ages, Hermione heard the distinct cracking sound outside of her door. Her heart somehow finding a way to beat even faster, she ran to the entrance and flung it open. Malfoy stood there, calm, oblivious to the events of the day. Hermione instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders, not knowing how many more opportunities she’d have to do so.

“Well aren’t we excited,” Malfoy teased, bringing his arms around her waist. There seemed to be something in one of his hands, a hard box that dug into her back. Hermione lingered in her position for a few moments, savoring its simplicity, before finally releasing herself. As she drew away, Malfoy beamed at her and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Hermione stepped out the doorframe, allowing Malfoy to properly enter her flat. He looked around it and observed the small space. Hermione had been in such a rush to communicate with him that she hadn’t even considered that this was his first time there. Luckily, she always kept the home in tidy order, but even years notice wouldn’t have been ample time to obscure the fact that her flat was nothing in comparison to the Malfoy Manor.

“This is quaint,” Malfoy remarked. “But, personally, I would have switched the blinds for curtains.”

Malfoy had his typical joking smile stretched across his face, so Hermione knew that he was only kidding with her, but she couldn’t get herself to play along. She remained frozen in her spot, unable to utter the severe news to Malfoy, but he must have been able to read the uneasiness on her face.

He walked towards her slowly and Hermione lowered her head, which he instantly lifted back up with his curled index finger. “What’s wrong, Hermione?”

Hermione nearly burst into tears, but her eyes spotted the wrapped present in his other hand. She looked at him inquisitively.

“Oh, yes, this.” Malfoy said, following her gaze. “Well, I wasn’t sure when I’d see you next, and I know your birthday is just a few days away, so…” He extended the gift in her direction. “I got you this.”

Hermione let out a slight gasp. In all the commotion that had happened, she had nearly forgotten that her birthday was in four days. She took the package and traced her fingers over the elegant wrapping.

“Go on, then,” Malfoy suggested. “I want you to open it.”

The box rattled as she slightly shook it, so it clearly wasn’t a book. Ron had always just assumed that every present he gave her should be a book. It was a pretty safe present to give to someone like Hermione. Some books, like the old copy of Hogwarts: A History were better than others, but sometimes all Hermione wanted was to open a present and discover something that required a bit more thought.

Hermione continued to pause before opening Malfoy’s present. What if Malfoy did end up getting arrested on Monday? That certainly would put a damper on her birthday, to say the very least. Just the thought of it made Hermione become anxious again. Perhaps she could convince Malfoy to let her wait and open it on Tuesday. That way she’d have something even if he…

She couldn’t finish the thought. She refused to let herself. They were going to determine a way to clear his name before then.

With renewed purpose, Hermione tore away the wrapping, revealing a black velvet jewelry case. Inside was an intricate silver necklace with a rose charm. Hermione traced her fingers along the chain and the details of the delicate flower.

“So that you always have a piece of her with you, even while she’s away at school,” Malfoy shared. But Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off of the necklace. It was absolutely magnificent and way too much from Malfoy.

“I can’t accept this,” Hermione divulged, her mouth hanging agape. “It’s way too nice, and…”

“And what else am I going to do with a rose necklace?” Malfoy retorted. “I could always give it back to the goblins, but I’d much prefer if you’re the one wearing it around your neck.”

Hermione continued to stare at it. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

Malfoy took the necklace out from the case and unhinged the hook. With one hand, he bundled up as much of Hermione’s hair as he could and pushed it over one shoulder. Hermione grabbed the rest of it so that it was out of his way as he secured the necklace around her neck. Locked in its new home, Hermione grabbed the charm and moved it slightly back and forth, clasping it in her hand. Now she had a constant reminder not only of Rose, but also of Malfoy.

“A beautiful necklace for a beautiful woman,” Malfoy charmed. He gave her a quick kiss before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Hermione started to walk over to join him, but became distracted by her reflection in the passing window. The necklace glittered in the reflection from the sunlight, clearly made of high quality goblin-wrought silver. It was completely entrancing and by far the nicest thing she had ever received.

She wrapped her hand around the charm again, closing her eyes, and trying to find peace within her mind. Malfoy didn’t have to say a single word for her to know how he felt about her. The necklace itself was enough of a sign. And Hermione was quickly feeling the same way. But all that could be for not in a few days.

It must be nice to have a normal life, not caught up in war, rumors, and lies. But then that wouldn’t be the life of Hermione Granger.

Hermione felt the warm embrace of Malfoy behind her, his arms loose around her waist, and his hot breath releasing over her shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” he whispered.

Hermione turned away from the window to face him. His worried grey eyes met hers and she instantly broke the eye contact. She had to tell him but couldn’t bear to see his reaction as she did.

“They found your hair in the Ministry Archives and…” Hermione tore away, unable to complete the thought, but it was all Malfoy needed to hear.

“I see,” he responded curtly. “When…”

“Harry just told me,” Hermione was able to muster. “But he’s not going to do anything about it until Monday.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Well that’s mighty fine of him.”

“He didn’t need to warn us,” Hermione reasoned.

“Yes, well, if the Aurors have evidence, then I can’t see what else we can do.” He took Hermione’s hands into his and looked her straight in the eyes. “Just promise to take care of Scorpius while I’m in Azkaban.”

“Malfoy!” Hermione shouted, flabbergasted by his negativity.

“I warned you weeks ago that it was only a matter of time before I was hauled off to Azkaban.” Malfoy responded sharply. “It was always inevitable that they’d find a way to pin this on me. The people believe the word of the Daily Prophet too much.”

“We aren’t giving up yet!” Hermione pleaded.

“Is this the part where you tell me that you have some grand scheme in order to prove my innocence by Monday?” Malfoy glared through slit eyes.

Hermione attempted to regain her composure, even if it was just for show. She still felt broken inside, but if Malfoy was being this pessimistic, she needed to fake it for the both of them. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Malfoy shook his head back and forth. “I suppose you wouldn’t be Hermione Granger if you didn’t.” A slight smirk graced his face. “Well go on then, what’s your proposal?”

Hermione instantly sprung into explanation mode. “The other week, when I was in the Archives, I discovered that one of the Daily Prophets was missing. I was going to tell you, but then… well, it just wasn’t a good time for me to tell you.”

“And what’s so special about this missing newspaper that it’s going to get me off?” Malfoy implored.

“Even if we find it, I can’t guarantee that it’s going to acquit you, but I think it somehow tied to the rumors about Scorpius.” Hermione paused for a moment, contemplating her thoughts, but her conclusion remained the same. “Malfoy, there’s someone out there who’s really trying to hurt your family.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Well I could have told you that, Granger. But you still didn’t answer my question. What makes you believe that this paper is the key?”

“It’s from May 2^nd, 2008.”

There was no need for Hermione to explain the significance of the date. Malfoy’s face shifted, indicating his mutual understanding. “The Battle… And it’s right before the rumors…”

“I know,” Hermione conceded. “What if the newspaper was also…”

“… taken at the same time of the break in?” Malfoy said, finishing her sentence. He took a moment to mull it over in his mind. “You know, that’s not a completely rubbish theory.”

“Why thank you, Malfoy,” Hermione responded, heavy sarcasm in her voice.

“However, not to be a bearer of bad news, but how exactly do you plan to find this missing newspaper?”

“We don’t need to find the missing newspaper, just need to read it and figure out what it is that this person is hiding from us.”

“And I imagine you already know how to do that?”

“The Ministry isn’t the only one who keeps old Daily Prophets, you know.” Hermione concluded. “Naturally the Daily Prophet offices themselves keep more thorough records than the Ministry. I just didn’t think I would actually need to access them.”

Malfoy stared at her, still not completely convinced. “I certainly hope your plan doesn’t involve breaking into the Daily Prophet offices. I’m already slated to be arrested for one crime. Let’s not add another to the list.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Hermione stated simply. “We should be able to convince Ginny to let us in.”

“How are we going to convince She-Weasel --” Hermione glared at Malfoy, “ –- Weaslette -– ” Hermione intensified her stare, “Fine, Ginny, to let us into the office?”

“You don’t have much trust in my plan, do you?” she said crossly.

“Well if I remember correctly, your plans with Potter and Weasley always seemed to go awry and only truly turned out alright because of Potter’s dumb luck.” Malfoy snarled upon the memories.

Hermione crossed her arms irritably. “Well if you’re just going to sit here and criticize my plan, then what do you suggest?”

Malfoy chuckled. “Oh, I don’t have a better plan. But I figured I’d at least point out all the flaws in yours before we begin.”

Hermione gave him a soft shove. “Well in that case, we better get started.”

*** 

“Would it kill you to open the door a bit more quickly?” Malfoy nagged, growing impatient as Ginny rattled the key into the locked entrance of the Daily Prophet.

Hermione kept looking over her shoulder to make sure that no one else was around. They had gotten through the first door, so they weren’t stuck looking suspicious on the streets, but were now barred entry from the actual office building. Ginny had only agreed to help them once Lily had gone to bed, so it was now late into the evening. The moonlight shined through the door’s window, barely providing enough illumination for Ginny to see what she was doing.

“Shut it Malfoy or I’ll hex you,” she sharply retorted. She jabbed the key into the door with more force, finally getting the lock to click open. “Satisfied?” she jeered at Malfoy with a smug look on her face.

“I still probably could have done it faster,” he remarked under his breath. Hermione decided it was better to leave his comment unacknowledged. The faster they could locate the newspaper, the faster they could get out of there and proceed with their investigation.

“Remember the plan?” Hermione asked, shifting her focus between the two accomplices. “Ginny, you keep guard while Malfoy and I look through their files. If anyone comes, send us a patronus.”

Ginny nodded her head in compliance.  "You two better get going,” she instructed as she handed Hermione the set of keys. “Use this key to open the door and work quickly. The Daily Prophet may be empty now, but you never know when someone will come in for a late night story.” Hermione and Malfoy nodded in agreement, and started their journey through the maze of cubicles. “Good luck!” Ginny shouted after them.

The office building was eerily still so late in the evening. The last time she had been there, the space was filled with jittering witches and wizards, conferring about sources and the latest news reports. Now, each seat was empty and it was so quiet, you could hear a quill drop.

They went down a hallway, examining the plaques on each door. “Ginny said the records room should be just down this hall,” Hermione stated, turning back to look at Malfoy, but he wasn’t paying attention to her. He was staring fixatedly at a particular door. Hermione grabbed Malfoy by the hand to pick up his speed, but he kept his feet planted outside the door, his hand turning into a clenched fist.

Hermione read the name on the door and instantly understood.

“Malfoy…” she quietly warned.

“Bet we could find all sorts of evidence inside here,” he softly fumed, glaring at the door to Rolanda’s office.

“That’s not what we’re here for,” Hermione reasoned.

“And who says we can’t be here for two reasons?” Malfoy snarled back. “You want to clear my name, don’t you?”

Hermione sighed. “Of course I do. But we can’t just go breaking into her office!”

“But we can sneak into the records?”

“Yes, well, it’s different because we have the keys to that one.”

Malfoy scoffed. “You Gryffindors and your insistence on following the rules.”

Hermione crossed her arms. “I would hardly quantify what we’re doing right now as the most legal thing in the world, but if you break into her office, then you are actually doing something explicitly wrong. Now, are you going to follow me to the records room or are you going to continue to mope outside of this locked door?”

Malfoy glared at her, slightly irritated, but silently complied.

They reached the end of the hall where they found a room labeled “Daily Prophet Archives.” Hermione inserted the key into the lock and carefully opened the door.

Upon their entry, the surrounding lanterns automatically lit with a soft glow. The entire space was filled with cabinets of old newspapers from the past few hundred years that glittered in the reflective light of the flames. Hermione was drawn to the side of the cabinets that particularly sparkled. Etched on the sides were the dates of the newspapers that were stored within.

“Look for the file marked with 2008.” Hermione instructed.

Hermione and Malfoy both muttered Lumos, providing extra support as they roamed around the room, looking carefully at each date. They wandered deeper into the space, the farther back they proceeded, the more recently the years became until they found the desired one.

Immediately, Hermione opened the drawer, which extended into the room, exposing not only published newspapers, but accompanying folders for each edition. Malfoy looked on anxiously as Hermione perused the papers until she found it.

“It’s here! May 2^nd, 2008. This is it!” She removed the newspaper and handed Malfoy the file of supplementary documents. She flipped through the pages and tucked away in the Op-Ed submissions was the article that she knew she had always been looking for. Hermione started reading it out loud.

TEN YEARS LATER: RISE OF A NEW DARK LORD?

Today we commemorate the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War, but we must always ask ourselves: Are we safe? While He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been defeated, there are still Dark Wizards among us, living in the shadows, waiting to one day come back to power.

People have become complacent in the past few years, naively believing that evil has been squashed once and for all. I, for one, propose that these people are sorely mistaken. While You-Know-Who is gone, some of his Death Eaters walk free and his silent supporters live on. Most prominently is…

“Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and late Narcissa Malfoy, who welcomed a baby son two years ago to his wife, Astoria Greengrass.” Malfoy continued, his voice shaking as his eyes began to glaze over. Hermione set down the newspaper, confused as to how he was reading the same article. In his hands, he held a handwritten letter, which Hermione concluded must be the original Op-Ed submission from the file she had given him. Malfoy wiped away a tear as he proceeded to read from the parchment. “Lucius Malfoy is a known collector of Dark Magical Artifacts, one of which is rumored to be a time-turner.”

He broke away, dropped the letter to the floor as he slid his back down along the side of the file cabinet. He sat on the floor, staring off in the distance, seemingly petrified. Hermione joined him on the floor in support.

She picked up the letter and read it until the end. This was it. The origin of the rumor. But there was still a major issue. “The Op-Ed doesn’t have an author,” she regretfully commented. “But at least we…”

Malfoy clenched his fist tightly as he shook vigorously. In all her years, Hermione had never seen anyone quite as irate. His face turned vibrant red and his eyes looked as if he were out for blood. He slammed his fist back, pounding the side of the filing cabinet, causing an echo to resonate around the room.

“Malfoy?” Hermione whispered, trying to get his attention back, but he remained immersed in his silent rage. She tried to remain peaceful, fully aware that the words of the article were probably consuming his thoughts. The article was blatant, purposefully, and entirely malicious. It had deliberately accused the Malfoys of using a time-turner to get Astoria pregnant with Voldemort’s child, which was the most preposterous thing Hermione had ever heard. Only a fool would believe this story, yet somehow it had spread like fiendfyre around the wizarding community.

“Malfoy?” she said again, but received no response. “Draco?”

He turned to her, but his glare did not soften.

“I know you’re upset,” she started off calmly, letter still in hand, “but we have another piece of the puzzle now. If we can figure out who wrote this…”

“We don’t need to do that.” Malfoy hissed through pursed lips.

“Yes, we do.” Hermione maintained. “If we find out who wrote the letter, then we know who started the rumor.”

Malfoy gripped at his hair and closed his eyes tight. “No, we don’t, because I already know who wrote it.” He grabbed the letter out of her hands and stared at it intently. “I would recognize this handwriting anywhere. It’s my father’s.”

Chapter Text

Hermione stared at Malfoy blankly, mind numb from his comment. She must have heard him wrong. With a quick jerk of her head, Hermione hoped to knock herself back into reality, but based on Malfoy’s body language, she had heard him properly.

Hermione reached her hand out to appease Malfoy, but he turned from her and stormed out of the Daily Prophet archives. Before he left, she managed to catch a glimpse of his face and he appeared understandably infuriated. His eyes were sharp and his lips were pursed in resounding resentment.

“Malfoy, come back!” Hermione called after him, yet she knew her efforts would be futile. Even off in the distance, Hermione could discern the visible tension in his shoulders. It was for the best to let him fume for the time being.

She looked back down at the handwritten letter in her hand. The severity of their findings began to sink in, both the positives and the negatives. After months of searching for answers, it had finally paid off – they had the origin of the rumor about Scorpius. But despite the success, Hermione felt that telltale sinking feeling in her stomach. The perpetrator was none other than Scorpius’s own grandfather. Malfoy had always known that people were out to hurt him, but to find out that it was coming from his within his own family must be devastating.

Hermione read the letter one final time before slipping it back into the filing cabinet. It was so tempting to keep the letter for evidence, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Much of her and Malfoy’s problems stemmed from the taking of files from an archives, and doing the same now would only lead to more potential problems. She looked at the time and saw that it was now well past midnight, making it now officially Saturday. They were down to around fifty some-odd hours until Harry was to arrest Malfoy. With any luck, they were on the right track to prevent that from happening.

Having returned all the documents to their proper spot, Hermione followed the path of Malfoy who was now several minutes ahead of her. She rushed down the hall and released a short sigh of relief to see that Rolanda’s office was still locked shut. It wouldn’t have surprised her if Malfoy had broken in there in his current state of outrage. But undoubtedly, his mind was far off her, fixated on a new enemy.

She reached the lobby of the Daily Prophet where Ginny was presently staring at a hysteric Malfoy. The blonde was frantically pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. Spotting Hermione, Ginny joined her by her side.

“Hasn’t said a word to me since he got back,” Ginny whispered to Hermione. “What in Godric’s name did you find in there?”

“Just what we were looking for,” Hermione responded cryptically. Ginny looked at her confusedly, but Hermione didn’t reply with any more details. She was too focused on Malfoy who clearly wasn’t taking the revelation well. Even if he and his father hadn’t spoken in years, that didn’t make learning that his father had betrayed him in such a fundamental way any less agonizing. Especially seeing it had been nine years since...  She stopped mid thought, a new theory popping into her head.

“Draco…” Hermione cautioned as she slowly approached him. It still felt odd calling him by his first name, but she knew how it had appeased him in times past and desperate times called for desperate measures. He instantly stopped in his path, but did not look in her direction. It was good enough for Hermione to continue, though. “Remind me when was the last time you spoke to your father?”

Malfoy slightly lifted his head, his back turned to her. “April 2008. At Scorpius’s second birthday.”

Ginny shot Hermione a curious glance, but she still didn’t have time to fill Ginny in on all the details. She was grateful that she had helped them access the files, but now Hermione and Malfoy had to finish putting all the pieces of the mystery together.

“You mentioned his second birthday before,” Hermione proceeded, speaking calmly and at considerable distance from Malfoy. “When we were at Diagon Alley. You said that his birthday didn’t go well or something.”

Malfoy let out a fake laugh. “That’s putting it lightly. Father was so upset, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned down Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione looked at Ginny who gave off a shrug. Scorpius’s supposedly disastrous birthday had taken place only a few weeks before the article, so whatever happened that day must have been the spark that ignited Lucius’s resentment for his own son. Yet Malfoy was being decisively curt with his responses. Hermione wanted to pry for more, very much aware of the sands of time slowly slipping away from them. Their time was limited, and she felt like they were so close to unraveling the truth. But she didn’t want to do that until Malfoy was ready.

Although unaware of all the details, Ginny seemed to have come to a similar conclusion. “Look,” she warned, “we can’t linger around her forever. You two obviously have to figure out whatever this is you’re talking about, and we’ve accomplished what we needed here.” She looked over at Hermione, eyebrows slightly raised, urging her to get out of there.

Hermione reached out her hand, but withdrew it before touching his shoulder. He was particularly volatile at the moment and she wasn’t quite sure what the right approach was. The last thing they needed was to incite verbal anger from him. She stepped slightly closer so that she was just behind him. In a soft voice, just loud enough from him to hear over his shoulder, Hermione whispered to him, “Draco, let’s go back to my place.”

Malfoy slowly turned his head, peering at her from over his shoulder. The anger in his face had slightly dissipated, replaced with sorrow and confusion. He closed his eyes and looked away, but Hermione cupped his check with her hand, bringing him back to her. With closed eyes, she planted a subtle kiss on his lips. His world had been a mess for the past several years and somehow had found a way to become even more convoluted. She wanted to assure him that she was still there for him. Her hand found his and she gave it a slight squeeze. He gave a short nod, and she knew that he was ready to leave.

Hermione looked back at Ginny who was staring at her, mouth agape. She pointed at Hermione, then at Malfoy, and back at Hermione. Hermione blushed and smiled to herself. She hadn’t considered that no one had informed Ginny about her and Malfoy. Harry undoubtedly had his suspicions or he wouldn’t have tipped her off about the impending arrest. But it was nice to know that Ron was respecting her privacy and not telling them just yet.

Ginny smiled at her friend, shaking her head still in a bit of disbelief, but clearly happy for her. “Well,” Ginny said, “I’m heading back. I advise you do the same.” Hermione nodded, and within an instant, Ginny had apparated away.

Hermione intertwined her fingers with Malfoy’s. “Time to go.”

Hermione and Malfoy landed back inside her place, where Malfoy maintained his silence. He immediately took a seat on the sofa, perching his arms on his knees, cradling his head in his palms. He still needed time to process, but unfortunately, that was a luxury that they could not afford right now.

She joined him on the sofa and rested her hand on his thigh. “You need to tell me about that birthday party,” Hermione instructed.

His chest rose and fell as he let in a quick breath. “It was shortly after my mother died and the whole family wasn’t in a good place. I loved my mother more than anything, as did my father. And after she… passed… I found comfort in Astoria, but my father had no one. I think that’s when his hatred for Astoria reached its peak.”

Hermione looked at Malfoy askance. “He hated Astoria?”

Malfoy released a snort of laughter as he slowly raised his head from his hands. “Call it whatever you like, but he did not approve of her.”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione questioned. “But Astoria was a pure-blood.”

“A fact that my father was initially very happy about. Even after the war, his mind didn’t change in that regard. He was thrilled to learn that I intended to marry Astoria. And things were fine the first few years, but when Astoria and I had Scorpius, we agreed not to instill pure-blood supremacy in him. As you can imagine, that didn’t go over so well with my father.”

“So what happened?” Hermione pressed on.

“Well, come Scorpius’s second birthday, we invited a few old friends, hell, even Rolanda was there, but Astoria invited a muggle-born coworker. When father found out, it caused this whole scene. Suppose he didn’t want his grandson to be surrounded by such ‘bad influences.’ But I stood by Astoria. And that was the last I heard from my father.”

Hermione looked on Malfoy, still processing the story. Malfoy relaxed back on the sofa.

“After that, Father went to live abroad. He had nothing left for him here. We weren’t speaking to him and all of his old friends were either dead, locked in Azkaban, or not talking to him either.”

A chord struck in Hermione. “Why weren’t his other friends speaking to him?”

Malfoy looked at Hermione as if this was the world’s most obvious thing, but he indulged her with his response anyway. “Father avoided Azkaban by providing evidence causing many Death Eaters who had fled into hiding to be captured. If there’s one thing those people hate, it’s a snitch. And, no, I’m not talking about Quidditch.” Malfoy smirked to himself, but then continued. “No one would talk to him after his trial.”

Hermione sidled up next to him. She knew her next statement wasn’t going to go well, but it had to be done. Malfoy seemed to coping better at the moment, at least well enough to make a bit of a joke. Even so, she knew Malfoy would quickly deny her request. Yet it was necessary.

“Malfoy,” she started off cautiously. “I need you to reconnect with your father.”

Malfoy jolted up his head and stared at her incredulously. “I bloody hell will not!” he exclaimed. “We read the same letter, correct?”

Hermione grabbed both of his hands. “Yes, I know, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

“And trusting you requires me to speak to the man who ruined my son’s childhood?” he bit back.

“Don’t you see?” Hermione pleaded. “Your father was upset with you and Astoria so he started the rumor. But he was also upset that he had lost all of his friends to begin with. He was an unscrupulous man with nothing to lose.”

Malfoy stared at her. “You’re not providing a convincing argument,” he snarled.

Hermione let out a sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy we figured out who started the rumors about Scorpius, but there still isn’t enough for me to make a formal statement to clear his name. But also…” Hermione’s words began to falter as she trailed off. Tears started to pool in her eyes, and she masked her face with her arm to obscure to sight from Malfoy. She rushed to her bathroom, closing the door behind her, immediately grabbing a tissue to blot her face.

She dabbed her eyes, hoping to erase the redness, but to no avail. The tissue fell to the floor as Hermione stared at herself in the mirror. She had tried to stay strong, to not let her emotions get the best of her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The thought of failure haunted the dark corners of her mind. If her theory was wrong and the two events weren’t connected, then Malfoy would soon be headed to Azkaban for who knew how long. Breaking into the Archives was one thing, but what if they gave him a more severe sentence due to his history? A knot formed in her stomach again as she released a choked cry, reaching for another tissue from the box.

A knock on the door echoed in the small chamber. When she didn’t answer, she heard Malfoy’s voice from behind the barrier. “Hermione?”

Hermione wiped away the few tears left on her face and opened the door. The resigned look on his face let her know that he knew what was already on her mind. He reached out to her, pulling her out of the bathroom, into her bedroom. He wrapped his arms around her which she more than willingly reciprocated. Her eyes fluttered close as she rested her head upon his shoulder, feeling the comfort of his embrace. He slowly rocked her back and forth.

If Hermione closed her eyes hard enough and cleared her mind of everything else, she could almost imagine what it would be like if they were somewhere else, in a different reality, a foreign universe in which they were never subjected to the war and perpetually haunted by their pasts. Perhaps in this other world, he would be swaying her in time to music, dancing the evening away at some elegant dinner gala. But that would never be their lives. And as Harry had once advised her in the words of Dumbledore, it does not do well to dwell on dreams.

She lifted her head up and gazed at Malfoy longingly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Malfoy shook his head. “You’re not going to lose me. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. You said so yourself. And if that requires talking to my father, then I’ll do it.

Hermione’s heart fluttered, recognizing that there was still hope yet. “We’ll owl him first thing in the morning.”

Malfoy placed his hand on Hermione’s cheek and ever so lightly kissed her. As he drew away, he lingered, just barely not touching her lips, his forehead pressed against hers. Hermione grabbed his hand and led him to her bed.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she whispered to him.

“Neither do I.”

Without bothering to remove the covers, she fell on top of her bed. Malfoy joined her shortly after, cradling his body behind hers. He planted kisses along her shoulder, slowly sending Hermione into a blissful state. She rotated herself so that she was facing him, as he landed one final kiss on her forehead before he rested his back on the bed. Hermione wrapped her leg on top of his body, nuzzling her head upon the soft part of his chest just below his shoulder. It had been way too long since she had been this at ease in bed. Letting her worries temporarily escape her, she peacefully fell asleep.

Hermione woke up the next morning, Malfoy’s warm hold still encircling her body. She nestled her body against his, savoring the precious moments they had together before they had to face the stark reality of the day. Malfoy had also awakened, but he too relished the momentary serenity. He sunk his head into the Hermione’s mass of curls, the strands of hair tickling her behind her ear. She smiled at his touch as he pulled back her hair, passionately planting series of kisses along her neck. Hermione let out a slight moan, never wanting him to let go.

Regretfully, she knew that they had to make more serious moves. She reached her hand behind her shoulder, halfheartedly pushing him away, but this only caused him to intensify his pecks.

“Draco,” she murmured through stifled laughter. “We need to get up.”

“Five. More. Minutes,” he begged, continuing to place kisses across her skin after each word.

Hermione shifted her body so that she was instead facing him. “I’d rather we get five more minutes every morning than five more minutes right now.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes, hoping that he would understand. They needed to send the owl to Malfoy’s father. She tried to suppress the thought that it was still a variable whether or not Lucius would even bother responding to his estranged son. But it was the best chance they had at the moment.

Malfoy released an exasperated sigh as he rolled himself out of bed. He rubbed the slumber out of his eyes as he stumbled out of the bedroom into the living space.

Hermione perched herself up in bed, watching as he walked away. His hair was ruffled and his clothes weren’t in their crisp typical condition. It gave Malfoy more of a mundane look, which was a welcome change. Behind the fine robes, tailored suits, and polished hair was a sensitive man hiding underneath. And apparently he wasn’t a morning person.

She spread herself across the bed, letting her body absorb the final remnants of his presence. Waking up next to him was refreshing, relaxing, rejuvenating. Yes, she had coerced him out of bed, but once all of this was hopefully over, there wouldn’t be a need for that. They could spend their weekends in bed, soaking in each other’s presence, with nothing else to do. Her fingertips dug into the bedspread, imagining what it would be like to latch onto him all day, without a single intention to leave.

The rattle of china promptly snapped her out of her fantasy. Malfoy stood perched in the doorframe, teacup in hand. His white blonde locks were still disheveled, yet he acted as if he were dressed in his finest dress robes. He took a single sip from his cup and coyly smiled at Hermione. “I thought you said we needed to get up.”

Without lifting herself from her reclined position, Hermione grabbed a pillow off the bed and threw it at him, but her aim was significantly short. “Don’t get smart with me, Malfoy,” she snapped back. She propped up her body onto her elbows so she could better see him. “What, no tea for me?”

The edges of his lips curled in amusement. Malfoy picked up the pillow and threw it back at her, landing squarely on her chest. “Your tea is waiting in the kitchen. But if you don’t get out of bed soon, it will get cold.”

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, accumulating the curls on top of her head. She released her grip, stretching her arms out above her head, letting her hair cascade down her back. She let out a soft moan in the process as her arms crashed down to her side. “Fine, I guess I’ll get up,” she resigned as she pushed herself off the bed.

As she walked past Malfoy, he grabbed her by the hand, pulling her back to him. He reached his hand around the back of her head and drew her in for a kiss. His lips were still slightly warm from the tea and tasted like English Breakfast. She pressed her body against his, gripping both of his cheeks. They both lingered in their embrace for a couple moments before Hermione eventually pulled away.

“Aren’t you particularly affectionate this morning?” she toyed, but Malfoy didn’t appear to be in a playful mood anymore.

“Just want to spend every last moment I can with you before it’s too late,” he said solemnly.

Hermione sighed. “You need to stop being so pessimistic about this.” She intertwined their fingers and pulled him into the living room. “We need to write your father.”

She dug through one of the nearby drawers for a quill, ink, and unused scratch of parchment. Malfoy took a seat at the kitchen table, and she placed the tools in front of him.

“And what exactly am I supposed to say?” Malfoy groaned, glaring at her in mild frustration.

Hermione looked around the kitchen and found her still hot cup of tea sitting on the counter. She peered inside and saw that Malfoy had already fashioned it with a spoonful of sugar for her. After taking a sip, Hermione paused to consider the proper approach. “Well, we need to make it convincing enough so that he believes you and is willing to meet you in person.” Malfoy stared at her blankly as she took another sip. Hermione jumped up onto the counter, crossing her legs in the process. “There has to be a good reason for you contacting him now, so we have to consider recent events.” She grimaced realizing what their best excuse was. “We could say that ever since Astoria died, you saw the error in your ways and that now that Scorpius is in Slytherin, he’s starting to see the merits of pureblood supremacy.”

Malfoy winced at her words. “As bloody if!”

“It doesn’t have to be true,” Hermione justified. “But it’s been nine years since you have spoken, and he clearly has some sort of vendetta against you. It’s going to have to be believable!”

Malfoy ever so slightly shook his head. “It feels like I disgrace to Astoria’s memory to even claim that Scorpius and I would ever subscribe to that mentality again.”

Hermione pushed herself off the counter and joined Malfoy at the kitchen table. “I know, but think about the potential pay off. You could finally clear Scorpius’s name like she always wanted.”

He hesitated for a moment, but then started to scribe the note.

Father,

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that Astoria has passed away. Since her death, I have had the opportunity to reflect on my decisions over the past decade. Scorpius has started at Hogwarts and has continued our proud tradition of Malfoy Slytherin. Yet I fear that I have made a grave decision in how I raised him, thus failing our family legacy. Scorpius is not as strong as you, and therefore is not quite up to our standards. The Malfoy Men deserve to be revered by all, and I want to ensure that this remains true through his years at school. I request that you and I meet for Sunday supper at Malfoy Manor. Together, we can set our family back on track.

Hermione read the words over Malfoy’s shoulder as he inscribed them onto the parchment. The words sounded as if they were from an entirely different person, not the Draco Malfoy she had come to know. Yet, it seemed believable enough. She just hoped that their efforts proved worthwhile. If they failed, there wouldn’t be enough time to take other action.

“We need to get back to your place and send it from there,” Hermione explained as she rolled up the parchment and handed it to Malfoy who placed it in his pocket. “To make it the most credible, it has to be sent from your owl.”

Malfoy gave a short nod. “Go get changed for the day and we’ll head over.”

Hermione took a final sip of tea before heading back to her room and quickly changing into a fresh set of clothes for under her robes. When she exited her bedroom, Malfoy was already standing outside the door, waiting for her.

“Ready?” he asked, a slight choke to his voice. He held out his hand, which Hermione grasped. He gave it a tight squeeze as he apparated them both to inside the Manor, directly to the owlery.

Malfoy reached into the depths of his robes and retrieved the note. He left Hermione’s side to find his signature black owl and attached the parchment to his leg.

“Find Father and deliver this to him. Do not leave until he responds,” Malfoy instructed. He pet the owl on the head, and upon his release, the owl took off. Hermione walked over to Malfoy as they both watched him fly off into the distance.

“So what now?” Malfoy asked, his eyes still transfixed on the diminishing speck in the sky.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him and perched her head onto his shoulder.

“Now, we wait."

Chapter Text

The seconds felt like hours and the hours felt like years. With each passing moment, Hermione and Malfoy only grew tenser. In the back of their minds, they understood that the flight from Wiltshire to Paris was long and arduous, so they were bound to not receive a response for several hours at the earliest. Yet with every gust of wind that crashed against the windows, they turned their heads in desperate anticipation. 

They wandered around the Manor helplessly, not knowing what to do with the squandered minutes. At first, they tried to fall back asleep, but neither one could stay in one position long enough. The house elves next prepared a series of platters of food, yet none of it seemed appealing when there was an empty pit at the bottom of their stomachs. Hermione even returned to the endless shelves of books contained inside the Manor’s library, but she couldn’t finish a single sentence without having to reread it. The purposeless waiting time gnawed at Hermione, itching to make some sort of effort to help Malfoy in any other way, but she seemed to have reached the end of her rope. She simply did not know where else she could turn to clear his name. All their dragon eggs were in one cauldron.

After several hours, Hermione rejoined Malfoy in one of the many sitting rooms on the second floor. She recognized it as the room in which she had found him the week after the incident with Ron at the ministry – the night of their first kiss. Much like before, he was somber in presence, but he lacked the glass of whiskey in hand. He stared out the window, engrossed on the sight outside.

His body stood unwavering, despite Hermione’s entrance. They had yet to speak to each other once since the owlery, and Hermione still remained at a loss for words. Nothing she could say would help the situation, so any conversation seemed futile. She took a seat in one of the nearby chairs, hoping that her mere presence would be some form of comfort.

He lightly tapped his head repeatedly against the glass of the window, incrementally harder with each new thump.

“Draco!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“It won’t break,” he muttered, only temporarily pausing his banging. “The windows were enchanted centuries ago to prevent shattering. To keep people out or some sort. Even back then, the Malfoys had enemies trying to harm them.”

Hermione was about to protest again, but thankfully, he finally backed away from the view. He strolled lethargically towards the chair and slumped down into it. He drooped his head into his hands and then promptly brought it back up.

“Do you know why I always come to this room?” Malfoy asked Hermione. She stared at him blankly. There seemed to be nothing extraordinary about the room. It was just as well furnished as the other rooms in the exquisite home. But the turmoil apparent in his expression signaled that this room was not like the rest. She slowly shook her head. Malfoy let out a slight cough to clear his throat. “This used to be the room that my mother and I would sneak away to when Voldemort, well, you know. It became a bit of a haven for us. A small space we called our own with a view of what the world was like outside of the manor.” He rubbed his hands along the arms of the chair, drying the sweat off of his palms. “I come here when I feel alone or desperate. Hoping for some trace of her memory.”

Hermione crouched down at the foot of Malfoy’s chair. He looked down, averting her gaze. She wished he would look at her after a statement like that. He wasn’t alone as far as she was concerned. Reflecting on it, it seemed absolutely absurd everything that had happened between them over the course of the past two weeks since the children left for Hogwarts. But between Astoria’s death and the looming arrest, they were compelled to comfort one another in more ways than one. And after months of neglecting to acknowledge her feelings about Malfoy, it was relieving to have it out in the open. She brought her hand up to just below her neck, grasping for the necklace hanging in place. “You’re not alone,” she whispered.

He perched forward, clasping his hands on top of hers. “Not right now, but I was for so long. It is exceptionally lonely, being Draco Malfoy. Even after this is all hopefully concluded, I will always be suspected. There is no escaping the past.”

Hermione’s shoulders sagged forward, releasing a resigned sigh, but her and Malfoy’s desperation was swiftly interrupted. They heard the tell tale peck of an owl’s beak against the window and both of them whipped their heads at the sound.

“Quick, get the window,” Hermione instructed.

Straightway, Malfoy left his seat and lifted up the glass pane, granting the owl entry. He fluttered into the room and took his rest on the nearby side table, unclenching a notecard from his claws. Both Hermione and Malfoy gazed at the response knowing that a great deal of their future rested upon the words inscribed on the firm parchment. Malfoy inhaled a massive breath and slowly approached the table as he exhaled.

Hermione observed in panicked anticipation as Malfoy’s eyes darted across the page. She tried to discern any sort of clues based on his reaction, yet Malfoy’s face remained completely deadpan. After several agonizing moments, he looked up at Hermione. His Adam’s apple bounced up and down as their eyes final met. He slid the card across the table, which Hermione immediately picked up to read for herself.

“He’s coming. Tomorrow early evening,” Malfoy stated coldly. He swallowed another heavy gulp. “You can’t be here when he arrives.”

Hermione tossed the card aside. “And what makes you say that?” Hermione scolded.

“If you’re here and he sees you, he’ll know that something is up. And…” His words trailed off as he started to walk away.

“Oh, no you don’t, Malfoy!” she exclaimed after him, pulling him back to her. Hermione did her best to conceal her displeasure, but her emotions were getting the best of her. “You have this pesky habit of almost telling me something, but then you close yourself right back up again! That’s not going to help us! Not this time! ‘And’ what?”

Malfoy let out a strangled grunt of frustration. “And I don’t want to lose you too!” Malfoy bellowed, his voice echoing in the small room. He slammed his hand onto the nearby wall, the nearby painting shaking in its quake.

Hermione stood frozen. “Lose me?” she muttered. “Lose me?” she repeated, fire starting to burn in her voice. “I’m the one trying not to lose you!”

Malfoy scoffed, giving Hermione a side eyed glance. “The absolute worst thing that will happen to me is that they throw me into Azkaban for a few years tops. And I’m fairly certain I could talk myself out of most of that.” He strolled towards her, slowly enunciating his words clearly so there would be no mistake that he was serious. “Yet do you not fully comprehend the implications that could result if my father sees you in Malfoy Manor let alone if he hears about you and me?”

“I can defend myself, you know,” Hermione rebuked, hands perched on her hips. They had not come this far for Malfoy to start blocking her from this part of the process! They were on the precipice of having all the answers they wanted, and she needed to be there for it.

He closed his eyes tight, the crinkles of his skin exposing his true desperation. “Hermione, I, I can’t,” he stuttered. “If he even lays one finger one you, I’d… I’d never forget myself.” He brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand. He trailed it across her shoulder and down her arm, grazing the inside of her scarred forearm. She immediately withdrew from his touch.

“Well I’m certainly not going to let you be alone in a room with him either,” Hermione retorted, all the while doing her best to keep her voice level. Malfoy may be trying to keep her safe, but she had never been one to stand on the sidelines, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now. Her mind thought through the scenario, thinking of some sort of compromise between the two of them.

“Harry’s invisibility cloak!” she announced. “I can be hidden in the room and still hear everything that your father…”

“Granger,” Malfoy snarled, clearly not keen on even entertaining her plan.

But nevertheless, Hermione persisted. “No,” Hermione proclaimed. “You can protest all you want, but I’m not leaving the manor for this!” Malfoy stared her down, dissatisfied with her stubbornness. “You and I are doing this together and that is that.”

Malfoy snorted, still agitated, but slightly amused. “You know, you always were a stubborn pain in the ass.”

Hermione picked up Lucius’s note and smacked him on the head with it. “Careful there, or the next time, that will be a slap across your face again.”

Malfoy pulled her in for a kiss as if their argument from mere seconds before had already vanquished from his mind. Hermione submitted herself to the kiss, appreciating the few seconds of passion before he pulled away.

“You know, I can think of somewhere else I’d prefer for you to slap me,” Malfoy toyed, a sly smile illuminating his face.

Hermione didn’t hesitate to smack him across the cheek in feigned offense. She pointed her finger firmly in his direction. “Watch your manners, Malfoy, or that will have been the only place my hand will ever touch you.”

His smile only grew larger. “Oh yeah, Granger? Wanna bet?” He pinched Hermione on her sides, causing her to playfully squirm.

“That’s not fair!” Hermione cried out through her laughter.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” he teased as he continued with his game.

Hermione ran out of the room away from his attacks, but he followed shortly behind. She scrambled down the hall, every once and awhile checking over her shoulder to make sure that Malfoy was still following her path. They raced down the hall, their giggles resonating as they then progressed up the spiral staircase to the third floor. At the landing, Hermione made a right, proceeding down the hall, past what had been Astoria’s bedroom and what still was Scorpius’s room, until she arrived at the locked set of double doors at the very end. She yanked at the handles, but was not granted entry. She reached into her robes to grab her wand, but she wasn’t fast enough. Malfoy had caught up to her, pinning her against the doors with his body.

“You’re mine, Granger,” he growled, peering down at her with a satisfied smirk.

“And what do you intend to do about it?” she smiled back.

“I have a couple things in mind,” he said before pressing her back against the wall, bringing his lips against hers. Hermione draped her arms around his shoulders, dragging her fingers up through the roots of his hair. She tugged at its base, causing Malfoy to moan into her mouth.

He clamped onto her bottom lip, pulling it back until it slipped from contact. He removed his own wand from his pocket and unlocked his bedroom door, the pair of them slipping inside, closing the door behind them.

By the time she woke up in the next morning, the space beside her in bed was already cold. She wrapped the comforter around her body as she arose, searching for her clothes from the day before. She found her garments and slipped them on top of her body and bundled her hair into a bun on top of her head. The thoughts from the night before trickled into her mind causing her cheeks to turn rosy pink. On most days, she would attempt to obscure her childish delight, but it was already obvious enough by the love bites scattered along her neck and chest.  

She left Malfoy’s bedroom and moseyed downstairs into the dining room where Malfoy was already seated at the head of the table, breakfast placed in front of him and the seat beside him. He was reading the latest issue of Quidditch Quarterly, which Hermione snatched from his hands. She bent down a kissed him on the cheek. “It’s not nice to read at the table while company is around,” she teased.

“That’s rather rich coming from you,” he retorted. He picked up his fork and pierced the poached egg, releasing the ooze of the yolk. “Had to find something to entertain myself with after I finished making breakfast.”

Hermione looked at Malfoy with a puzzled expression. “You made breakfast?” she stated in disbelief. “But…”

“What about the house elves?” Malfoy completed as if he anticipated her question. “Been in the family for ages. But with nothing else to do in the manor for so many years, I came to find that cooking was something of a stress relief.”

Hermione had to admit that she was impressed and after taking a bite, she had to cover her mouth to make sure it didn’t drop in shock. The eggs were delectably firm yet fluffy and the yolk gushed out without being too runny. He watched her reaction, smiling to himself in personal satisfaction before taking another mouthful of his own dish.

“Malfoy,” she said with a swallow, “this is absolutely delicious.”

He scraped off a heaping portion of butter and spread it across his toast. “Like I said, I had plenty of free time. And the house elves were particularly good instructors.”

Hermione had to force back a choke. “The house elves taught you?”

“Surprised, Granger?” he said with a smirk.

“Clearly!” she exclaimed. “But back in fourth year…”

“Yes, yes, I was a prick back then,” he eschewed. “We can go on and on about how horrid I was, but I would like to think that I proved long ago that I am not that boy anymore.” He bit off the corner of his toast followed by a sip of his morning tea.

Hermione bowed her head and smiled to herself. No, he most certainly was no longer the boy of their Hogwarts past, but he was still viewed that way by the majority of the rest of the wizards outside of the walls of Malfoy Manor. And if today didn’t go as they hoped, that belief would only be solidified. The smile quickly vanished from her face. Malfoy dropped his silverware and reached his hand out to Hermione’s.

“I’ve been thinking,” Hermione started off.

“That’s usually not a good sign,” Malfoy joked.

She gave him a judgmental side eye, but then continued. “Even if we get Lucius to confess today, it won’t do us much good without a witness. I don’t have legal say in the matter of your arrest, but…”

Malfoy withdrew his hand. “Don’t…” he cautioned, starting to realize where this conversation was heading.

“… Harry does,” she finished. Malfoy let out of scoff, which Hermione ignored. “You know perfectly well that he’s the best person to be here with us! He may be the only other wizard who believes your innocence.”

Malfoy let out a low huff, still not pleased with the idea. He raised his fingers to his temple and rested elbows on the edge of the table. Both of them remained silent for a few moments until Malfoy lifted his head and leaned back in his chair. “If you insist, Granger.”

Hermione looked on one of the walls to observe the time. It was still early enough in the morning so they still had several hours until Lucius arrived. Even so, the sooner they got Harry on board, the better.

“Finish your breakfast,” Hermione demanded as she shoveled another bite of egg into her mouth. “We need to get to the Potter’s.”

***

They arrived at Harry’s place and Hermione knocked on the door, Malfoy pacing around the front, arms crossed in indignation.

“Stupid famous Potter,” he mumbled. “Doesn’t even have a gate or fence to stop intruders.”

“Draco!” Hermione hissed. He whipped his head in her direction, gave a bit of a snarl as his kicked up some of the dirt from a flowerbed and stomped towards the front door. “You better wipe that grimace off your face or Harry won’t help us.”

Malfoy complied, but still did not appear to be overjoyed. “Just not too thrilled at the idea that my fate lies in the hands of Potter,” he mumbled.

Hermione sighed in resignation and knocked on the door for a second time. They heard the knob turn and Malfoy stiffened his posture. As the door swung open, they were greeted by a jubilant Lily Potter.

“Aunt Hermione!” she cheered.

“Good morning, Lily!” Hermione beamed back. She bent down onto her knees and Lily ran into her arms for a hug.

Lily retreated from the embrace and looked at Hermione askance. “Where’s Uncle Ron?”

Hermione and Malfoy looked at each other hesitantly, but Hermione quickly responded. “He’s at work right now.” She tucked in her lips upon telling the lie, and hoped that Lily wouldn’t press further.

“Who’s at the door?” Hermione heard a female voice call from another room.

“Aunt Hermione and Mr. Malfoy!” Lily shouted back.

They heard the creak of the stairs as Ginny walked into the entryway. She looked at Hermione and then back at Malfoy, surprised to see him at her home. “Lily, why don’t you go up to your room?” Ginny suggested. Lily nodded and then dashed up the stairs.

Hermione and Malfoy remained outside the door as Ginny glared at Malfoy. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” she stated with crossed arms.

Malfoy’s upper lip quivered. “Yes, well it seems like we have another favor to ask from your family.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows in skepticism and faced Hermione. “This doesn’t require any more break ins, does it?”

Hermione chuckled. “Fortunately not. We actually need Harry this time, though.”

She opened the door wider, granting them entry. “Harry’s in his office,” she told Hermione who nodded and thanked her.

Hermione led Malfoy to the back of the Potter’s home to the closed door. She knocked on it once and whispered to Malfoy, “Be nice,” before twisting the handle.

Harry instantly looked up. “Hermione!” he said upon seeing her, but his pleasant greeting dissipated when he noticed that Malfoy was with her. “Hermione…” he said with a more vigilant tone.

“We need your help,” Hermione requested.

Harry looked back and forth between the pair, hesitation etched across his face. “I can’t say anything in front of him.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione and she took the hint. With Malfoy being a suspect in the case, there were probably legal restrictions. “Draco, wait outside,” Hermione instructed Malfoy. Harry brought a fist to his mouth to stifle the gagging noise he impulsively released at hearing Hermione refer to Malfoy by his first name, but Hermione did not care.

“Anything he has to say to you, he can say to me,” Malfoy defended, but Harry shook his head.

“Legally, I can’t,” Harry explained.

Hermione turned to Malfoy and said to him in a hushed voice. “It’s probably not that simple,” she explained. “There must be certain things that we can only discuss in the presence of each other because of our ministry positions. So please.” She gave Malfoy a knowing look and he excused himself, shutting the door behind him on the way out.

Hermione pulled back one of the chairs in front of Harry’s at home desk and took a seat. Harry stared at her a bit uncomfortably.

“You told him, I presume?” he began.

“What else did you expect me to do?” Hermione countered. “I assumed that’s what you expected me to do when you warned me about it!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d rope me further into it.” Harry took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with a corner of his robes before replacing them. “You know I can’t stop the arrest from happening. There’s no proof that it wasn’t him.”

“Yet.” Hermione corrected him.

Harry let out a sigh. “Let me guess. You’ve got a plan.” They both let out a slight laugh. “Okay, Hermione, tell me what you know.”

Hermione edged up to the corner of her chair and explained the whole story to Harry, how Malfoy had asked her to investigate the rumors about Scorpius, about the missing newspaper article, how Lucius had been the author of the letter, and her theory that Lucius was somehow involved in the Archives break in. Harry listened intently the entire time, absorbing the information as she rattled on.

“At the very least, Lucius Malfoy is guilty of sparking unnecessary hysterics in the wizarding community!” Hermione insisted. “We need you to be there tonight. That way if Lucius says anything, you know that Draco’s innocent and who’s really accountable.”

Harry hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know, Hermione,” he whispered. “I can’t really see how the events can be connected.”

Hermione heart fell. “Harry, please,” she pleaded. “You know just as well as I do that it wasn’t Draco who did it. You can’t seriously believe that the Aurors missed those strands of Draco’s hair after weeks of investigating.”

Harry rubbed his palms across his face, contemplating Hermione’s request. He sighed once more and stood up from his chair. “Fine, Hermione,” he finally agreed. “I’ll go get my cloak.”

*** 

“I still don’t like this,” Malfoy bemoaned as Hermione and Harry stowed themselves away in the dining room’s closet.

“Well we’re not changing the plan now,” Hermione disputed. “Now throw the cloak over us, and wait for your father. He’ll be here any minute.”

Malfoy picked up Harry’s invisibility cloak from the floor and draped it over the two fully grow adults. He stared down towards the floor, Harry and Hermione’s shins still full visible. “You better crouch down or you’ll be exposed in no time,” Malfoy grumbled, shutting the door and leaving them in the darkness.

As he walked away, the clicks of his shoes echoed throughout the grand dining room. The door on the other side of the room screeched open and slammed shut. Now, the only sound that remained was that of Harry and Hermione’s heavy breathing.

They listened intently, unsure when the two Malfoys would return. The blood was rushing through Hermione’s body, her heart pounding faster than she thought humanly possible. Her hand wandered into her pocket and clasped onto her wand, ready to use it at any indication that Lucius was going to harm Malfoy.

She became instantly startled when she heard a cough come from her companion. “You seriously like him better than Ron?” Harry whispered in his softest voice possible.

“Harry!” Hermione criticized, but kept her voice just as low as his. “Now’s hardly the time!”

“Sure it is!” Harry commented. “You’re stuck here with me so you’ve got to answer.”

“You’re absolutely mental!” she irked. Lucius could be walking in at any moment and Harry decided that now was the time to bring up Ron? He could ask the question as many times as he wanted, but she most certainly didn’t need to answer.

“Hermione,” he pestered, not dropping the subject, but Hermione held her ground until Harry started poking her in the sides.

“Oh shove off it, Harry!” she finally cried out, still maintaining her hushed voice. “Yes, I like him more than I presently like Ron. Satisfied?”

Even in the dark, Hermione could tell that Harry was looking at her slightly perplexed. “Somewhat. Glad you’re happy and all, but, blimey, I don’t understand it one bit.”

Hermione smiled to herself. “Sometimes I wonder the same thing, but…”

The undeniable sound of an opening door immediately silenced their conversation. Hermione latched her hand onto Harry’s thigh, her heart returning to its rapid pace.

“I thought I heard something,” came the cold distinct voice. Hermione could feel Harry tense up next to her, both of them on edge with the presence of Lucius Malfoy.

“Must have been the house elves,” Malfoy justified, but Hermione could already detect the strain in his voice. It was possible that it because of his annoyance towards his father, but she had a feeling that he knew the true source of the sound. They had to be very careful now that Lucius was here.

“Well at least they still remember to keep out of sight at all times,” Lucius commented. The relationship between Lucius and Malfoy already seemed mildly hostile. Perhaps something had already happened between the pair on their way into the dining room. But it could just be the result of nine years of no communication.

Malfoy clapped his hands twice and they heard the scratching of chair legs against the marble floor. Hermione presumed this meant that their dinner had magically appeared before them, and they were about to start their meal. Hermione maneuvered her ear so she could press it against the door to hear better. Upon contact, the door creaked slightly and she immediately retreated, her eyes wide with horror. In the dim light provided by the crack under the door, she could see Harry’s startled expression as well.

“What was that?” Lucius bellowed, his stern voice resonating throughout the room, making it sound even more intimidating than it already was. His chair legs screeched against the floor again and she heard his footsteps head in their direction. Hermione found it hard to stop her heavy breathing, the carbon dioxide from her body making an audible sound upon release. Harry clamped his hand over her mouth and nostrils to stifle the sound. His wand was ready in his other hand, aimed at the closed door. The footsteps paused right outside where they were hiding. Hermione closed her eyes, praying that he wouldn’t open it. After several agonizing seconds, the footsteps continued back to the dining room table.

Harry removed his hand, and Hermione let out a slight sigh of relief. She went back to focusing on listening to the conversation, this time, keeping her distance from any more potential noisemakers.

“So let’s get down to business, Draco,” Lucius commanded, returning to his seat. “You’re the one who requested this reunion, so I believe you should be the one to start.”

“Yes, Father,” Malfoy proceeded. Hermione’s heart had placated since the near incident with Lucius, but it was still pumping faster than usual. Hearing Malfoy’s voice now certainly wasn’t helping, though. Even his tone of voice seemed different than what she had grown accustomed to lately. He was sterner, drier, and devoid of any comfort. And there most certainly wasn’t any playfulness. It was the voice of her childhood enemy. “Since Astoria’s passing, I have come to realize that it is due time that you and I reconnect.”

“Oh yes,” Lucius drawled on. “While I regret hearing about Astoria, I must admit that I am not too sad about the ordeal.”

“I should have trusted your wisdom, Father,” Malfoy continued in his detached voice. “With Astoria gone, I have come to realize just how much her influence has impacted our son.”

Hermione gripped onto Harry, hanging onto every word of the conversation. She hoped that Malfoy was heading in the right direction. The hours before Lucius’s arrival, they had rehearsed mock conversations, anticipating Lucius’ responses and how Malfoy should likewise proceed. Please go as planned, Hermione begged.

“And how is Scorpius?” Lucius asked, full of intrigue. “He’s now at Hogwarts?”

“Just started. A Slytherin of course.”

“As Malfoy men always should be.”

The men paused and Harry and Hermione could hear the distant sound of two wine glasses clinking together.

“And how is Scorpius handling Hogwarts? You indicated that he is not quite what we imagined he would be?” Lucius pressed on, sounding slightly disappointed.

Malfoy hesitated. “It seems as though the other students do not hold him up on proper pedestal. As you and I both know, Malfoys should be revered. I fear that this is because of the rumors…”

“Don’t blame it on the rumors,” Lucius snarled. “We should be proud that people believe that the Dark Lord found our family important enough to raise his heir.”

Hermione and Harry glared at each other, sharing the same petrified expression. This could be it.

“Of course, Father,” Malfoy complied. “But you see, Hogwarts has changed and people do not find it a positive to be associated with that name anymore. As if the place hadn’t already gone to the dogs,” he added with a sneer.

Lucius evidently pushed his chair back with the sound of the legs against the marble yet again. “Then it is not an institution we should put much faith into. Only the witches and wizards who matter will see the merit behind these rumors. And those people will once again see the value in the Malfoy family. Don’t you understand, Draco?”

There was a pause for a moment, and Hermione assumed Malfoy shook his head.

“My dear son, this is all according to plan,” Lucius continued, his footsteps echoing in the room as he paced back and forth. Hermione placed her hand on top of her mouth, holding back all urges to mutter any sound of excitement. This was it. “I knew that our name had to be redeemed somehow and that you would come around eventually, my boy.”

“I still don’t understand, Father,” Malfoy faltered.

“Oh, Draco, you didn’t really believe I’d let you smear the family name for good? When it became abundantly clear that you weren’t going to raise Scorpius with the proper beliefs, let’s just say I took matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?” Malfoy urged. Hermione detected the scorn starting to reveal itself in his voice. He had been pretending so well, but he needed to hold out a little bit longer. Lucius was just starting to confess to the rumors, yet they still had no answers about the break in.

“Our name was dragged through the mud as a result of the trials, and while we did whatever was necessary to keep our family in tact, that did mean turning in people who were once our allies. After the war, we lost practically everything. Our friends, our status, our way of life. But at least we still had each other. Then after your mother died and Astoria essentially stole you from me, I didn’t even have that. But no matter, I knew that if I handled it properly, we could have it all back.”

“Explain,” Malfoy sneered, his frustration growing increasingly apparent.

“The Malfoys were always intended to be superiors to others, whether the Dark Lord was present or not. So, with a little help from an old friend of yours, we submitted a story to the Daily Prophet suggesting that Scorpius was the son of the Dark Lord. Those naive, cowering, inferior wizards are gullible enough to believe anything that rag of a newspaper spews out.”

“And how the bloody hell is that helpful?” Malfoy growled.

“Ah, calm yourself, Draco. No need to get so fired up.” Lucius lazily continued. “You may recall that back when you were a child, there were hopes that the Potter boy would return to our society as a great Dark wizard.” Lucius left out a dismissive laugh. “While we were obviously mistaken, it gave me the idea that it could still potentially happen with Scorpius. Keep him isolated in the manor for his youth and spread the rumors, and he himself may grow to actually believe it. And now that he’s at Hogwarts, the proper sort of wizards will seek him out and inspire him to fulfill this planned legacy. A concocted prophecy if you will.”

The room fell silent. Hermione and Harry remained in the closet, stunned by Lucius’s plan. He was absolutely mental! He had purposefully destroyed his grandson’s childhood in hopes to spark him into becoming a Dark wizard all so that Lucius could regain his fallen status. It was completely vile and repulsive! Hermione’s only solace was knowing that his plan had failed. Scorpius couldn’t be any farther from the Dark wizard that Lucius hoped him to be.

Hermione thought to what must be going through Malfoy’s head at the moment. She couldn’t see his face, but she hoped that he was maintaining a believable façade. Everything was still on the line.

“You always were two steps ahead of everyone,” Malfoy finally uttered, strain still seeping through his words. The two clinked glasses again.

“Yes, it was quite the plan, I must admit. You took longer than I expected to come around, but it’s all water under the bridge now. Although I will confess that for a moment there I was concerned that this wasn’t going to work out.”

“And why’s that, Father?”

“That damn mudblood becoming minister certainly put a kink into some of my plans,” Lucius hissed in dissatisfaction. Hermione heard the sound of silverware clink as it fell onto the china plates. Her mouth became instantly dry upon her becoming a topic in the conversation. Malfoy had to keep his composure, though, now more than ever.

Malfoy coughed, clearing his throat. “Yes, Granger becoming minister surely does show that the masses seem to be okay with mudbloods being in positions of power.” He paused for a moment. “Disgusting.”

Harry turned to Hermione. She hadn’t realized that she had started to quiver. She knew Malfoy was only pretending, but still hurt to hear those words come from his voice.

“I am pleased to hear your mind hasn’t changed in some regards,” Lucius stated proudly. Hermione tightened her hand around her wand. If only Lucius really knew what was going on! But she couldn’t attack him just yet. “When I received word about her appointment, I had my only accomplice set up a meeting with her assistant, saying it was for an article about the transition in leadership for the Daily Prophet.”

“And who was that, Father?”

“You may remember Astoria’s old friend, Rolanda Reid?”

Malfoy held back a startled choke. “Yes, I remember her.”

“Well, Miss Reid found out that Miss Granger was starting to ask questions about us Malfoy men, so I instructed her to remove any sort of evidence that connected me with her. We couldn’t have that mudblood sneaking around and piecing together any part of my plan.”

Hermione snapped her head to Harry. “Rolanda!” she mouthed to Harry. But he brought his pointer finger to his lips indicating for her to stop. There was still more to the story, and they didn’t want to miss any of the details.

“What would that be?” Malfoy pressed on.

“You see, there wouldn’t be much evidence in my report after the war, but when Miss Reid had been called as a witness to testify about Vincent Crabbe’s actions prior to his death, she said quite some unsavory things about you. We couldn’t chance Miss Granger reading her report and discerning her motives.”

“So what exactly did Rolanda do?” Malfoy asked. Hermione clasped Harry’s hand in anticipation.

“She used a memory charm on that assistant of Miss Granger’s to figure out how to infiltrate the Ministry Archives and took some of the trial reports. She was only supposed to take hers. No one would have noticed her report being missing. But she had other plans,” Lucius snarled.

Hermione could have shouted in excitement! She pounded her hand against Harry’s shoulder. Rolanda had done it! Not Malfoy! And Harry had just heard Lucius’s confession! Her smile felt so big it nearly reached her ears. But Harry hushed her again. “Not yet,” he mouthed. He pointed to the door, to show that he was still listening to the conversation.

“What other plans?”

“Rolanda took not just her file, but also yours, mine, and a few others to obscure the fact that yours was the one she truly wanted. While she had been agreeable to working with me initially, apparently she had become dissatisfied with our outcome. I had been foolish to trust her. She wanted to see you permanently hurt because she blamed you for Vincent Crabbe’s death. And I obviously wouldn’t do that. So she paid off some Auror to say that it was your fault, but of course there was no evidence for that.”

“My hair…” Hermione could just barely hear Malfoy whisper.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, Father,” Malfoy quickly responded.

“Regardless, what Rolanda has done will not hurt us. The fact remains, my dear son, that together we can mold Scorpius into the wizard I know he can be. It’s time for the Malfoys to resume their rightful reign.”

Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak from on top of him and Hermione and swung open the closet door, wand already in hand. He pointed it firmly in Lucius’s direction. Hermione barely had enough time to see the shocked expression on his face before Harry shouted out, “Stupefy!” Lucius immediately slacked in his chair, rendered unconscious from the spell.

Hermione rushed past Harry and ran into Malfoy’s arms. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and closed her eyes tight. “We did it,” she whispered in his ear. Hermione released herself and took a look at Malfoy. He stood frozen in space, staring at his father’s unmoving body.

“I just can’t believe it,” he stammered. “All this time, it’s really been my father. And Rolanda… She must have grabbed my hair at the funeral. But, still… My father. I know we already knew that, but hearing it from him…” His eyes fell shut and a tear started to swell in the corner of his eye.

Hermione brushed her thumb under his bottom lid, removing the tear. “But look how he failed,” she comforted him. “Even after everything he did, Scorpius is the sweetest, most caring boy, and that is because of how you raised him.”

She combed her fingers through his hair and pulled him in for a kiss. It was a soft and tender kiss. Malfoy sighed under her touch, finally letting himself relax. They only pulled away from each other when they heard an abrupt cough behind them.

Hermione turned around to face Harry who half looked like he was going to puke at the sight of her with Malfoy, but Hermione didn’t mind. He would just have to grow accustomed to it, especially now that Malfoy wouldn’t be heading to Azkaban in the morning.

“If you two are done, we’re gonna need to bring your father back to the Ministry before the spell wears off. The minister is also going to have to release a statement about this in the morning. I’ll gather a team to go find this Rolanda Reid woman, and I think it’s safe to say Augustin was the Auror he mentioned.”

Hermione laughed to herself. “I have to say that I never expected Augustin to be involved in all of this. But I always told you that I didn’t think he was a fit Auror!”

“Now’s hardly the time to rub that in,” Harry commented with a smile. “But I’ll get the rest of the Aurors working on this, and we’ll have a complete report on your desk as soon as possible.”

Malfoy walked up to Harry and extended his hand. “Potter,” he stated simply with a nod.

“Malfoy.” Harry took Malfoy’s hand and gave it a single firm shake. “You hurt her, I will not hesitate to actually throw you in Azkaban.”

“Don’t worry, Potter. I have no intentions of either of those things ever happening.”

Chapter Text

Hermione paced back and forth in her office, reading over her notes one more time before her scheduled press conference. She felt calm and confident, and had a huge smile stretched across her face. In just a few short minutes, she’d be announcing the truth to the wizarding world. The notecards slide through her fingers with ease for there was no more need to practice. By this point, she essentially had the entire thing memorized.

She looked at the time and only then did she become slightly nervous. He still wasn’t here. What happened to early being on time?

Alice cracked the door to Hermione’s office open and peeped her head in. “We’ll be ready for you in five minutes, ma’am,” she announced as two children slammed the door fully open and rushed inside.

Rose dashed in first, with Scorpius shortly behind her. She raced so fast, she nearly crashed into Hermione’s desk. “Victorious again!” she proudly announced, holding her hands out to brace for impact. “I can beat you on a broomstick and on foot!”

Scorpius barely entered the space, panting heavily in her wake. “Yes, well, I’ve always seen myself as more of a sedentary boy,” he explained through chopped breaths, hands propping him up on bent knees.

The door creaked open once more and in walked Albus, moving at no more than a slight hustle. He was shortly followed, though, by Malfoy. His eyes looked down on his unathletic son, gave a slight sigh of disappointment, but then picked him up and spun him around. Scorpius laughed as his legs flung around in the air, requiring Albus to duck so that he would not get hit in the process.

“I don’t know where you got your lack of athletic skills, but nevertheless, you are definitely still my son,” he proclaimed, landing him safely on the ground.

“Definitely a Malfoy,” Scorpius beamed with a smile that could illuminate the darkest corners of the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione watched on, her heart swelling at the scene of the father and son being the happiest she had seen them in ages. It was as if the cloud that had been haunting Scorpius for the past few weeks had finally dissipated and he had found a new sun to brighten his days. While she knew that there was no replacing his mother, she hoped that today would serve as a new beginning for him. One without prejudices or hindrances from rumors.

Malfoy ruffled the top of Scorpius’s signature Malfoy white blond locks. “Go wait outside with Rose and Albus. I need to talk with Ms. Granger for a moment.” He looked up at Hermione with a subtle smirk, shielded from the vision of the children. Scorpius complied and all three children soon left.

“You know, when you dishevel Scorpius’s hair like that, I can’t help but notice that it looks a bit more like Harry’s than your own,” Hermione teased, fully well knowing that it would only temporarily irritate him.

Malfoy shot Hermione as menacing stare, but as she predicted, he couldn’t hold it for long. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her back so that she was pressed against the edge of her desk. His lips came crashing down onto hers, hungry with the same passion that Hermione so desperately felt.

Malfoy pulled away, leaving Hermione slightly out of breath. “I have to say, I much prefer your kisses to a Dementor’s,” he whispered in her ear. All Hermione could do to respond was smile up at him, so grateful that he was nowhere near those creatures that morning.

She pecked his lips once more before peeling away from her desk. “You should start heading towards the lobby,” Hermione instructed. “Rumor has it that the Minister of Magic is about to make a statement on your behalf.”

“About time you got here,” Harry expressed to Hermione as she arrived in the Ministry atrium. “The reporters have been here for an hour waiting to hear what the important news is.”

Hermione looked out at the mass of witches and wizards all of whom had out scrolls of parchment and quills, anticipating the statement. “Well, let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”

Harry gave Hermione a nod and she left his side to stand behind the podium in front of the crowd. The scene felt very familiar to her, Harry showing his support from the sidelines, the blinding glow of camera flashes, and her, Minister of Magic, poised to share an announcement. Yet it wasn’t the same. Last time, her mind was consumed by the confusion of her and Ron. But as she looked out in the crowd this time, she wasn’t looking for red hair. Instead, she sought out the white blonde locks.

Off in the back corner of the crowd, Malfoy stood proud, the three children standing beside him. Scorpius kept jumping up so that he could see over the taller wizards in front of him. His sincere happiness gave Hermione the final push to begin her speech.

“Good morning. On behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Ministry of Magic, I would like to inform you that we have determined the culprit of the Ministry Archives break in from July. Last evening, Head Auror Harry Potter detained Lucius Malfoy at Malfoy Manor after confessing to inciting unnecessary paranoia in the wizarding community by fabricating rumors that Scorpius Malfoy is the son of Voldemort. I can confirm once and for all that this is, in fact, just a rumor and that there is no evidence that he has any heir.”

Hermione paused for a moment as the audience before her erupted in clattered whispers. The quills met rolls of parchment and raced across the page, eager to capture the news. Waiting until the murmurs died down, Hermione continued.

“In the midst of his confession, Mr. Malfoy also admitted to his collaboration with Daily Prophet reporter Rolanda Reid in the tampering of Ministry documents, removing several files from the Ministry Archieves. Auror Andrew Augustin has also been arrested for suspicion of implication in this scheme. He is on temporary leave of his duties. For more details, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry Potter, will now speak with you.”

The crowd burst into mild chatter again as Hermione walked off the stage and Harry took her place. As they crossed paths, they exchanged a quick nod. The rest of the presentation was his to share, now that the case was to be dealt with and completed by his department. Hermione had already done more than her fair share of solving the case.

She zoned out Harry’s magnified voice echoing through the chamber of the Ministry atrium and quickly made her way to the back of the crowd. Before she was even halfway there, Scorpius was already running her way. He slowed down just as he approached her, wrapping his arms around her.

“Thank you so much, Hermione,” he spoke into her waist.

Hermione peered down at the white blonde hair pressed against her stomach, her heart lifted knowing that she had been the one to make this possible for him.

But of course, she wasn’t the only one responsible. Malfoy nonchalantly strolled over in her direction, hands tucked away in his pocket. The closer he got, the more the smile showed in his expression.

Hermione gave Scorpius a hug and drew him slightly away from her. “Why don’t you go celebrate with Rose and Albus?”

Scorpius saw his approaching father and looked back and forth between the two of them and dashed away from the pair with a grin.

“He’s a smart boy,” Hermione commented, watching as he tightly clung onto his friends, staring back at Hermione and Malfoy over his shoulder. “How long until he figures it out?”

Malfoy grabbed Hermione by the hand and started leading her away from the crowd. “A lot sooner if you and I don’t get out of here now,” he said with a devilish smirk.

“But the conference is still going on,” Hermione half-heartedly protested.

“And we can read about it in the paper tomorrow,” Malfoy insisted, tugging on Hermione’s arm with a bit more force.

Giving in, Hermione was led around a corner and as soon as they were out of the sight of the children and the mass of reporters, he leaned in and kissed her. After everything, a simple kiss was all that Hermione needed to block it all out of her mind. Both Scorpius’ and Malfoy’s names were cleared and it had been months since she had had any semblance of a mental relapse. Helping the Malfoys seemed to have inadvertently helped her too.

By tomorrow morning, the news will have spread to the rest of the wizarding community and the Malfoy family will be back on track to regaining a prominent name – just not the name that Lucius Malfoy had envisioned. They were starting their own legacy.