"Happy birthday to you,

happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday, dear Hermione.

Happy birthday to youuuuu."

The worst-sung rendition of the Happy Birthday song I'd ever heard echoed through the walls of the Burrow. Everyone laughed and clapped as I blew out the thirty candles on my cake. That's right. I'd hit the big three-oh. Safe to say, my life hadn't quite turned out the way I'd planned. Although I am strongly against the prejudice that women have to have kids as soon as they hit adulthood, I had always thought I would have had at least one or two children by now.

I looked around the living room of the Burrow. The main highlight of the party was now over; everyone had gone back to their conversations. Bill was involved in an extremely loud argument with Charlie about Quidditch. Honestly, the way men went on and on and on about that wretched sport. Nearby, Fleur, her waist still narrow, even after three kids, was supervising Victoire and Teddy's play-time with a wary eye. It wasn't that they got into trouble or broke stuff, it was just that their games seemed to get a little... Passionate sometimes.

It was hard to keep a scowl off my face when I saw Harry and Ginny, surrounded by most of the Weasley family. Them and their stupid perfect life and their stupid perfect house and their stupid perfect children. I felt like yelling, Hello! It's my birthday! You are all supposed to be paying attention to me, not them. But I didn't, of course.

I looked around some more. More children. Yay. There was Angelina, very pregnant and very happy. Even George- George, who everyone thought would never come out of his room after Fred died- had kids. Even Percy- that old stick in the mud.

"Hermione, dear, have some cake. Everyone's just dying to talk to you," Mrs Weasley appeared in front of me, taking me by the arm and planting me in the thick of all the conversation. I felt like an idiot.

"Happy birthday 'Mione," a voice said from behind me. I turned around saw Ron, freckles and all. I felt myself starting to go red, like I always did when this particular red-haired person was in my vicinity.

We'd gone out for a while after the war, maybe because everyone always expected something to happen between us. But nothing ever did. We kind of... petered out. Ran out of steam.

"Um... Thanks?" I don't know if it was the same for everyone, but it was incredibly difficult to make conversation with Ron after we had broken up. I was just wondering whether I knew enough about the Chubby- Chuggy?- Canons to discuss it with him, when Harry wandered over.

"Happy Birthday!" he said, giving me a big hug. I've always suspected that part of the reason Ron and I never worked out was that he always suspected that there was something going on between Harry and me, even though I'd denied it many, many times. "So, what big birthday plans have you got?" He handed me a glass of mead.

"Harry, my birthday is already over," I pointed out. He might be the Chosen One, but he was a complete idiot sometimes.

"So what? That's no reason not to celebrate!" he said, slightly over-enthusiastic.

"Thanks, Harry, but I'm probably going to spend tomorrow, as well as subsequent days, up to my neck in work."

Actually this was a slight exaggeration. I wasn't going to be up to my neck in work. More like up to my knees. I didn't know why, but ever since I'd ditched Cormac, my workload seemed to have shrunk. Granted, I'd been about as pleasant company as an angry Hippogriff for a couple of weeks, but now that I was over it (sort of), you'd think they'd give me my usual amount of cases again. But no. They kept giving me all the minor ones, and they gave all the good ones to that obnoxious twat Romilda Vane. She'd only been in the office seven months! She was way too inexperienced to handle the cases of the caliber they had been giving her, of the caliber they used to give me...

Suddenly, a baby started crying. I looked around for Harry, but he was already across the room, comforting Lily. Angelina was yelling as quietly as she could at Fred ll for giving Lily one of Fred and George's trick wands which had turned into a bat. It seemed like she'd had a lot of practice in quiet yelling- who wouldn't with Fred Weasley ll as a son? Three years old and he was already well on his way to becoming one of the greatest, if not the greatest prankster of all time.

"Oh, mum, we've got to go now, it's getting really late," Ginny said to Mrs. Weasley. "Got to put Lily to bed, and Harry's got work tomorrow."

Once the Potters had left, everyone else suddenly became aware of the time too. Murmurs of "Work tomorrow," and "Kids are getting sleepy" were echoed throughout the room. I felt a twinge of insecurity. Was my party really that boring? I glanced at the clock.

"Godric! It's past midnight!" I let out a little yelp. "Thanks awfully for the party, Mrs Weasley, but I've got to go now!"

"Of course, dear," Mrs Weasley looked at me. There was something indefinable in her expression. Was it sadness? Pity? No, it was something more than that... but I couldn't tell what. "Have a good night."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks again for the party, Mrs Weasley." I gave her a peck on the cheek and headed for the fireplace.

I reached my empty apartment and sighed. No pattering of children's feet. No man to welcome me home or kiss me goodnight. I'd defeated the Dark Lord, for Godric's sake. How hard could it be to get a boyfriend?

I reached the Ministry the next day to be greeted by Romilda Vane's million Galleon smile.

"Good morning, Ms. Granger," she said brightly. I grunted in response. For some reason I felt like stabbing her.

Undeterred by my response, or lack thereof, she continued. "There's a case file on your desk today, Ms. Granger, it's a new case for you. The client will be coming in to see you shortly, so you'd best be ready."

Ignoring, her last words, I walked into my office. I could see the case-file sitting on my desk, but for reasons unknown I chose to ignore it. Why bother? It was probably some batty old witch claiming that she had been over-charged for a case of Complexion Replenishing Potion ('Replenishes your Complexion to Perfection!'). I sat down and warily eyed the file. I didn't even know why I bothered coming into work anymore if my only reward was Romilda Vane's annoying chatter and more stupid cases.

Just as I was about to open the file, Romilda stuck her head round the door and announced, "Your client's here, Ms. Granger."

Damn. I hadn't read the case file yet. I looked up to tell Romilda to stall the client for a minute but she was gone. The door opened, and a horrifyingly familiar face sauntered in.

"Granger? You're my lawyer?"

My jaw dropped. There was no mistaking that familiar drawl and that sleek blonde hair. Hoping beyond hope that someone was playing a trick, that it was just some kind of severely misguided birthday joke, I flipped open the case file. There it was, in black and white, the name that would surely be my downfall.

Client: Draco Malfoy