After sending the owl off with her mother's small bundle of information, Hermione promptly passed out on her sofa with Ginny rustling quietly in the bedroom. For a little while, she fell into a dreamless slumber, thankful that after this most recent turmoil her mind was somewhat at rest. There was only the slight shifting of boxes and clothing in the background, and the softened sliding lulled Hermione to sleep. It was only when an owl tapped loudly on her kitchen window that she woke and sat straight upright, her wavy hair standing up on end.

The tapping continued, and it took the young girl a few seconds to realize where exactly it was coming from, but Ginny had already beat her to the punch, and by the time she had arrived in the kitchen, the graceful bird was perched precariously on Hermione's owl's stand.

"I tried to get here before the tapping woke you up, but I guess I'm faster on a broom than on foot." She smiled sheepishly, but Hermione was more curious with the parchment than Ginny's jokes. "It's just the invitation to the Ball. Since you're awake you should RSVP now. I'm sure Harry has gotten ours as well. We three can go together."

Hermione just nodded at the younger girl and took the invitation, not even bothering to look at the date. Regardless of when it was and what it clashed with, she was still obligated to go as being a third of the Golden Trio. But this would be the first ball without Ron at her side. She wondered if he'd bring a date this close to the divorce. She wondered if she should get one.

"I'll keep an eye on Ron for you." Ginny tied the finished RSVP to the owl's leg and watched it fly out the window. She spoke as if she had been reading Hermione's mind. "If I find out he has a date, I'll let you know. But for now, we should go shopping. You know what would happen if we wore the same dress a second year. The Prophet would be all over that like wildfire."

Hermione could do nothing but nod and hang the invitation to her fridge so she didn't forget. She didn't want to think about Ron bringing another girl to this ball. This ball honored those who fought and lost loved ones; who watched their classmates and distance relatives get killed against Death Eaters and Snatchers alike. Hermione and Ron had gone together for the last four balls. She had cried on his shoulder during the moment of silence, and danced between him and Harry after the dinners. They laughed with old friends who they fought side by side with. Watching him dance with another girl and mingle with their old classmates from before the war made her sick to her stomach.

And of course, there would be the press. Certain Prophet reporters were allowed, along with Ministry authority figures. Everyone would see her without Ron at her side. Her bosses, colleagues, and the reporters that already knew too much about her personal life than she was comfortable with.

"We'll go shopping tomorrow night. I'll owl Luna and Fleur and we four can make an outing of it." Ginny tried to get Hermione excited for the upcoming shopping trip, but she could do nothing but nod at her kitchen floor. "The Ball is Friday night, 'Mione. Do you think you'll be okay to go then?"

Hermione wasn't sure. Her hesitation in answering moved Ginny to ask again, but she finally managed to look up at her former sister-in-law and nod with a slight smile on her face. "Yes. I'll be okay by Friday. We'll have fun tomorrow night."

Ginny looked at her skeptically, but accepted the witch's answer and disapparated with boxes overflowing with her older brother's belongings.

. . . . .

Hermione was only half truthful in her parting statement to Ginny though. Yes, she did have fun with the three other witches, apparating from shop to shop with their arms overloaded with bags. But the rest of her week slowly dragged on. She had spent countless hours trying not to cry in her office and even more at home collapsing onto her couch and burying her face into various pillows that no longer smelled like home. By the time Friday rolled around, she was not prepared to see Ron in his dress robes with a small fresh-out-of-Beauxbatons blonde. While Ginny was positive he wasn't actually bringing a date, it wouldn't be the first time he did something like that last minute.

"Don't worry about Ronald," Fleur openly stated when Ginny and Hermione had gathered in her home in preparation for the Ball. She carried her young daughter Victoire on her hip. "While I love my brother-in-law, 'e is stupid for letting such a pretty girl go." Little Victoire cooed and Fleur whispered to her as they walked into the powder blue nursery.

"Fleur is right, Hermione. You look far too beautiful to be worrying about what my moronic brother will be doing." Ginny smiled confidently in her green and gold dress, one that matched her Holyhead Harpies uniform nearly perfectly. Harry stood next to her beaming at the two girls.

Hermione's dress was a long, lavender colored gown with an open back that swished delicately to the floor. It wasn't something she would normally wear to an event such as this, but she knew it would knock Ron off his feet, and at least she would get a boost of self-confidence out of the evening.

"I can promise you, 'Mione. You'll be killing it tonight. I'll definitely be keeping an eye on my two girls while I'm up on the podium repeating the same speech from last year." Harry smiled under his perpetually messy hair. Hermione knew how much he detested giving speeches; especially with the Minister of Magic not two steps behind him, nodding at his every word.

The three stood in Bill and Fleur's living space, ready to depart the second they were finished giving the babysitter instructions on what to do if little Victoire woke. Molly Weasley had offered to watch her granddaughter for the night, but Fleur wouldn't go to the Ball without her mother-in-law. They were meeting their relatives and friends there as per usual, and when the babysitter was finally debriefed, the five joined hands and disapparated into the warm summer night towards the gates of Hogwarts.

Upon arrival, their invitations were checked, hats were tipped, and a carriage was called to take them up to the castle. As their carriage started to trot (all five of the passengers in the carriage now being able to see the Thestrals guiding it) murmurs could be heard from those who were still waiting to get their invitation approved.

"Look, it's Harry Potter!"

"And Hermione Granger!"

"I heard Harry and Ginny were married right here at Hogwarts."

"No way, they got married in Paris under the stars!"

"That's so romantic."

"Yeah but I heard Granger and Weasley did too, and look at them now."

Such rumors always followed them around, and it had become much easier to tune them out, but when people started whispering about the divorce behind Hermione's back, she couldn't help but feel the tears form in her eyes. She hated how her life was so out there for the world to see, and it took all she could to try and forget the voices that carried through the passage of tress behind them.

The castle still looked as radiant as ever, with the towers gleaming under the stars that were rising above the treetops and the lights illuminating the halls all five could remember almost too clearly. Tears nearly came to Hermione's eyes as they approached the entrance to the Great Hall, and their old Professor Minerva McGonagall stood at the doors, greeting carriages and former students inside.

"Harry James Potter." The older witch still wore her pointed hat, and her grey hair spilled out from underneath. She shook the famous wizard's hand. "It is good to see you again, Potter. As you, Mrs. Potter, Ms. Granger, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione could not help but cringe at the use of her last name. It was only a reminder of what had happened earlier that week, but she knew there was no avoiding it. She would have to live with it for the rest of her life. There was no use in getting upset over it.

The small group chatted casually before McGonagall pointed them to the direction of the Great Hall, yet all of them remembered the exact way with a sense of nostalgia for the large doors and sounds coming from where they had spent countless meals during their adolescence. The great doors were open, and inside there was a stage with a band no one cared to learn the name of and a dance floor that no one would dance on until they had too much Firewhiskey to care who saw them shake their arse. The tables were set up as they were every year. Ministry officials were always seated closer to the dance floor next to the table that seated the Golden Trio and their friends. Yet despite how the Ministry wanted it to be set up, by the end of the night no one could remember what was the floor and what was the ceiling, let alone where his or her assigned seat was.

Hermione stood in awe of the grand room. She had forgotten how much she missed the ceiling that reflected the sky and the floating candles that lit the room. But it wasn't long before her thoughts were interrupted with too long hugs and too many questions. She didn't always mind if the questions were about her work, or if she was receiving a hug from someone she had not seen for months, but when a complete stranger came up to her and tried to get her to divulge her latest divorce secrets, it took all of her willpower not to hex them. More than once someone from The Prophet came up to her looking for the details, and Harry had to shoo them off. She was sure his act of friendship would give them a scandalous story to tell.

But as the night progressed (and the number of empty Firewhiskey bottles increased behind the bar) Hermione discovered that even with having to eat dinner in close proximity to Ron, and going up on stage after Harry's speech with him, the evening wasn't a complete disaster in her eyes. She refused to dance with her former husband (not like he would ask) but spent the majority of the time dancing with either Harry or one of her former Hogwarts classmates. When he wasn't spending time with his new wife, Hannah Abbott, Hermione stole Neville away for a quick twirl in between dances with Harry and Luna. She thought to herself that living the single life wasn't that bad, and it may be worth nights like these where she could worry less about appearances and more about having fun with her friends. The Prophet reporters had left her alone for the majority of the night, and she had managed to finally relax for the first time all week.

It wasn't until later that evening that Hermione sat down to rest her feet, head spinning slightly from the adrenaline and alcohol pouring through her body. Harry and Ginny and many other couples remained on the dance floor, holding each other closely and smiling as if they were teenagers touching one another for the first time. Ron was nowhere to be found. She sipped some water blindly off the table and unbuckled her heels that had long since begun to dig into her feet, not worrying about anything but the slight pain she was feeling in her ankles, but tt wasn't until a long shadow appeared in front of her that she turned her attention elsewhere.

"Having some trouble there, Granger?" The snarky tone emitting from the shadow draped over her figure was one Hermione had never wanted to hear again. However because of her tipsy state of mind, she was lacking in her usual vocabulary.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Come to spoil the fun?"

"I wouldn't exactly call this my type of fun, but seeing you let go the way you did was very entertaining to me, Granger."

Hermione's cheeks burned a fiercer red from under her already flushed complexion. She wasn't used to letting her guard down, and with every passing second sitting under her old school enemy's gaze she regretted buying such a revealing dress. How long had he been watching her drink and dance that evening?

"Anyway, I was here because usually it is my mother that attends these gatherings, having gotten a special invitation from your friend Potter over there-" Briefly the memory of Mrs. Malfoy saving Harry's life in the Dark Forest crossed her mind. "-But this evening my mother could not make it and suggested I come in her place. She wants to turn our lives around and that means going out into the world and presenting ourselves."

Hermione could do nothing but stare at her scarred feet and absorb what he was telling her. She was almost waiting for the snobbish comment that demanded her full attention, but she didn't really feel up to looking into his grey eyes. It wasn't until she saw Harry and Ginny stumbling towards her that she looked up at her old schoolmates face. He was still the skinny boy she knew during the Wizarding War, but he seemed to have gotten—dare Hermione say it?—more attractive? His almost white blonde hair was neatly messy, if that was even possible, and his eyes seemed to have gotten softer with his age. He towered over Hermione's sitting form, but he wasn't impossibly skinny like he used to be. He filled out nicely, but with muscle that was barely seen underneath his dark dress robes.

"'Mione! I see you've been talking to Malfoy here." Harry's words slurred slightly, and he pounded his hand on his school enemy's back. Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he stood straighter upon contact. "Malfoy, have you told her the news yet?"

"I was just about to get to that Potter before you interrupt-"

"Malfoy here," Harry started before he could finish his previous sentence, "Is going to be working as a Healer at St. Mungo's. So it'd be nice if all of us could all get along, alright you two?" He eyed them carefully and towed Ginny away on his arm back to the dance floor without another word. Hermione was in shock. She didn't think he was even qualified to be a Healer. But then again he had excelled in potions during school…

"Granger? Granger did you even hear what I asked you?"

Too caught up in her own thoughts, Hermione had completely tuned him out. "What did you say?"

Sighing, Malfoy took her hand and helped her out of the seat. "I asked if you wanted to dance with me. But since you can't even listen to me talk for two seconds without zoning me out, I figure that by now it's a lost cause."

Completely baffled by this question, Hermione could only stand staring at him with her mouth agape. Malfoy? Wanted to dance with her? The girl he bulled throughout school and called her Mudblood for five years? She didn't know how to answer, so the blonde boy just sighed, and dragged her onto the dance floor draping his hands delicately on her hips. "Try not to tread on my feet, Granger, okay?" She could only nod and wrap her arms around his neck.

He leaned in closer, and their torsos touched lightly as they swayed to the soft music playing in the background. Hermione's thoughts raced. She had no idea why he was compelled to suddenly be kind to her, and she had no idea why she had accepted his invitation to dance. Maybe it was the Firewhiskey. Maybe it was because she was too tired to care anymore. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Prophet writers carefully jotting down notes, but her thoughts were suddenly interrupted when Malfoy spoke. "Do you want to get out of here?"


Author's Note:

Okay, here's chapter two! I know a lot sort of happened in this scene, especially towards the end, but you'll just have to wait to see what will happen next. As usual, reviews are appreciate, and thanks so much for reading.

~Beadlebug3