A/N: Sorry about that...

Is that even worth saying? Unclear. Point is I'm back and ready to go. Hope you are too :)

Chapter 21: Proposals

May 15, 2017

"We're pulling a significant profit this month from the Hogsmeade store mostly, but Diagon Alley has also seen an increase since we presented the new line."

Hermione lowered the sheet of parchment and nodded towards her husband. He was exuberant today, eyes shining, mouth wide. Ron was passionate. They weren't fighting. Hugo was sitting on the rug adding a park to his city of LEGOs. She felt positively warm. "More full-grown witches and wizards like George than you expected?"

"Who knew!" He scratched the stubble of red on his chin before collapsing on the couch next to her. "How was your day?"

"Fine, thank you." She smiled and started to read again. It was Harry's proposal. He had been foolishly late giving it to her, and Hermione had half the mind he had no intention of handing the thing over at all. It was only when she threatened to reject his holiday request to Greece that she found three sheets of parchment on her desk. He had called it a cruel tactic, something worthy of a Slytherin. Hermione had failed to see the insult.

"My dad keeps passing on what Shacklebolt says about you." He nudged her arm with his elbow to draw her attention. "His terms up this fall."

"I know that." The clause Harry had written was incredibly too vague, and her friend's handwriting was already a mess which did nothing for clarity. Hermione read the same passage over again.

'The Mirror of Erised, if decomposed, can provide us with another avenue besides Veritaserum, which, as of course you know, takes one whole moon cycle to develop. I think we can take it one step deeper besides truth and fact but to intent.'

"Intent?"

"Hermione?"

She jerked up and lowered the parchment. "Shacklebolt and I have a meeting next week. I'm sure we'll discuss who his replacement should be." Her attention immediately strayed to her son on the ground. He was humming gently, one finger up his nose as he placed a small bush next to a bench.

"I'm also sure it'll be a quick discussion."

That was something they didn't agree with. Hermione didn't…she didn't know what she wanted. Her mind had been frantic. She missed her daughter terribly. Rose and her energy and spirit and fire. Her first year had gone horribly slow, and Hermione had half the thought to not let her go back. Reflex had her look at Hugo again. His letter had arrived two weeks ago. She hadn't told Ron yet.

Though, she would tell herself, she did not have much opportunity to tell Ron. They had just barely recovered from their argument last month—some ridiculous spat of her not being invested. She didn't know what that meant. Invested in his happiness? Of course, she wanted him to be happy even if she didn't know what made him that way anymore. She knew what wouldn't. She knew that when she told him what Hugo said when the owl pecked on their window, he would shut down again. He would run to the Burrow or the Joke Shop and they wouldn't talk about it again until another fight.

She placed the first page of the proposal down. Work, if anything, was stable. It was consuming and important, and Hermione didn't mind burying herself in it. This proposal was long for Harry Potter. She had become accustomed to his half-page summaries, but this document was at least three whole sheets. And on the second page, the rushed scrawl of Harry's writing transformed into fluid ink. The letters were uniform, scripted, and refined.

'I am not quite familiar with a formal proposal of this nature and have considered starting the proposed methodology with a brief history of Alchemy. But, Mr. Potter has emphasized that I reconsider my audience so I will refrain from restating anything the so-called brightest witch of the age should know already.'

Hermione leaned back into the couch. It was hard to fight the smile.

'I am also under the impression that proposals are meant to be approved before any project is initiated, but as this specifies Auror application and not my own research, perhaps that will not lead to any disciplinary action against Mr. Potter. Or perhaps it will. I will leave that to my audience's discretion.'

She could hear him say those words and her fingers dug into the parchment even more. She was, more or less, familiar with the history of Alchemy and some of the fundamentals but she couldn't begin to understand actual implementation and practice. Not in the way Malfoy could.

"Something interesting?"

She didn't look away from the page. "Yes."

"Can I see?"

"It's an unapproved proposal from the Ministry."

He leaned over and took a glance at the page she had laid down on the coffee table. "It looks like Harry's…"

Hermione snapped the page away and dragged it back to her chest. Ron jerked back, eyebrows knitting together. She folded the parchment over. "I can't let you read this."

"Hermione, this isn't my first proposal. I've written them for Merlin sake."

"That was when you were a Ministry professional. Now that…" She stopped herself. His face was already getting red and she couldn't, wouldn't have him running out again. Hugo stood from the floor, LEGOs forgotten. This isn't okay. She let her shoulders fall, rolling her neck as she closed her eyes. We're not okay. "Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?"

If anything, her husband seemed more on edge at the suggestion. Ron took a sip of water. Whatever warmth he had after dinner was immediately gone. "I have to run the shop tomorrow afternoon."

"In Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade?"

"Hogsmeade."

"I'll Apparate there."

"I can't…"

"I'll bring you something." She insisted though the man only seemed to be frowning more. Ron shifted his weight from the couch and gave Hugo a quick kiss on his head. Hermione swallowed. "Whatever you want."

"Whatever you want, Hermione."

"Twelve then." She was never one to back down. "I'll see you at twelve sharp."

Her husband nodded in reply and moved towards the hallway, head down. There was a chill in the air, though the weather was mild. Hugo was still standing, and she could see the frown start to bend on his face.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I love you, you know." It was sharp, quick, and had him turning.

"I love you too."

.

.

October 31, 1998

Draco had reclaimed his eight minutes and then some within the hour after they entered the Great Hall. It had almost taken that long to find a spot where there were no other students snogging, and then another five or so for him to find her and have his hand up her undershirt. The point of his nose brushed over her ear. "That stupid charm. I'll forever be turned on by lemon tarts thanks to you."

She laughed before grabbing the beanie off his head. "I abhor this."

"Hermione Granger." His fingers floated down from her breast to her waist. He fingered over her hip bone and she felt her spine curl. "I knew you were a swot but vain too?"

"I am not vain."

"Maybe not about your own appearance." He leaned down and kissed her, sucking at her top lip. He pulled his mouth away just as he tugged her hips closer to his own. She could feel the heat around him and it was consuming, intoxicating. She suddenly regretted bartering him down to only eight minutes. "Would you still be here if I weren't so handsome?"

"Pretty is the word I would use." She realized she had only been reacting under his body, his initial touches. Aren't I brave? Normally she felt that way, but around him, she felt shier, more careful when it came to her actions and not her words. She decided to match her tongue and moved forward. Draco curved back as if he expected her to move away. Instead, Hermione moved her hand to his neck to force him close. He sighed when she stroked under his jawline, and she took that as incentive to touch her mouth there. His breath jumped and she felt immensely satisfied when she looked back and saw clouded grey. "And no."

"I'd say you're telling the truth." The slickness of his tone was more breathy, weak. His cheeks were flushed red. "But I've seen Krum. Not your best."

She went back to his neck. "And you are?"

"Absolutely."

He caught her again, this time more rapid, sloppy. His fingers became harsh against her stomach, and she had the brief wonder if she would bruise. She didn't care. She wanted him closer if possible, but it wasn't. He was already pressed against her, knee in between her legs, hands on the small of her back pushing them together. His mouth curved over her own, and she felt the air escape her. He was all heat and power and…and…

Hermione sighed as he cupped her backside, his tongue finding its way from her mouth to the edge of her ear. She flushed. "What are you…"

"Snogging." His smirk was devilish. "Though I can be persuaded to do something else."

She ran her hands down his shoulders, across his chest. "Oh really? What else would you want to do? Quidditch?"

His smile deepened as he shook his head. "No…"

Oh. Whatever bravery she once felt flooded out of her. Hermione grabbed Draco's hands and wrapped them within her own. "We'll be noticed if we don't head back soon."

"Fuck it. I don't…"

"I'm not…"

At her hesitation, Draco stepped back. His fingers moved within her own before he licked his own chapped lips. "That's fine, Hermione."

The heat of his body was gone, but he was still staring at her, grey eyes so focused and trained on her face, as if he were waiting to see what he could do next, if he should do anything. She felt silly, embarrassed, and dropped his grip as she covered her chest. "You must think I'm a little girl. That I'm…scared so I just push down on the brakes."

"Brakes?" He raised an eyebrow and reached back for her hand. "Like for an automobile? Why would you say…"

"Because I stopped you."

"Is this some sort of idiom? Because we were…going too fast?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Draco rubbed her arms and she could feel the light hair rise, her breath quicken even from the soft touch. The hall was cool besides his body next to hers and his hair seemed to shine in the relative darkness. "That's alright. That's always alright." He hesitated before leaning in, waiting for her to move to meet him. When she did, he moved to kiss her tender, the lightness of his breath almost tickling and sending soft ripples to her chest. "Here. For unity."

She grabbed the jersey from his outstretched hand and put it on. The physicality was gone when she looked back at him. The orange torchlight shrouded his face, making him look like all angles, crisp and strong. Like a statue, a work of absolute, pure art that she had studied and studied for years but was only now appreciating. And her chest felt too full as he smiled back at her, moving his head to the side while pushing back her hair.

"I made it frizzier if possible."

She made the same gesture, patting down the feather-light strands of silver. "Yours isn't great either."

"Maybe I should put the beanie back on."

"Um, absolutely not."

Draco moved a hand to fix his hair himself. "Better?" He shook his head and took another step back, taking away all his heat too. "Wait am I asking you about hair? You're ruining me, Granger."

"Same here, Malfoy."

"Want to stop?" He said it so casually, but his eyes were diverted to the ground, hands twisting into his pockets to not show them shaking. The question threw her off guard and she waited for more reasoning, an explanation for the sudden question.

But Malfoy didn't move to speak. He didn't do anything but look at the ground and his poorly tied shoes. And she realized he was waiting her answer. "Not yet."

"Good, then let's go back." Malfoy walked back towards the Great Hall pausing briefly when Hermione didn't follow."

"I'll leave in a few minutes. You go ahead first."

She expected some quip about her need to recover but Draco remained silent before shrugging and walking away.

.

.

There were three different parts of the Pairing according to Geraldine Gryffindor. The first was an evaluation of potential and current wealth and status. This traditionally involved pulling mandrakes up from the ground (Ears covered, of course) and measuring the lengths of their roots. Professor Sprout nearly had a stroke when Hermione suggested using mandrakes for a dance so she and Pansy had to resign themselves to turnips and kale.

They did it by house—the Gryffndors pulling up vegetables with roots more than above the average length. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff was a mixed bag of results, and Slytherin had been surprisingly short. "Depressing really." Pansy held up the short root. "I'm chalking this up to using kale. Though yours is a fair length, Granger."

It was decently long, probably 15 centimeters or so, but she was particularly more focused on the dirt now on her—Draco's—jersey. They hadn't spoken since they left the dark light of the halls, but even now she found herself glancing at him, trying to gauge the root length of his turnip.

"I'd say 20, maybe only 18 cm." Pansy yawned, the makeup on her eyes starting to bleed a bit. "Surprising. You'd think a Malfoy's money alone would be 20."

"Maybe he'll never get married."

Pansy guffawed. "I swear sometimes you're an absolute idiot. The day Lucius Malfoy doesn't have an heir would be the day I start snogging Hufflepuffs." With a sigh, Pansy took a bite of her kale stalk. "Weird, tastes like nothing. I probably marry a total bore. Millicent must have a brother."

Hermione choked down her laugh and took a small bite of her own stalk. It was a weird tradition—and most likely why Sprout was so upset at the suggestion. Not only did the root length supposedly predict your future joint fortune, it also gave you insight into your spouse's future personality. Hermione, however, only felt the sharp taste of kale. "Who's giving us the final pair?"

"McGonagall actually." Ginny surprised both Pansy and Hermione with her approach. The root of her turnip was about as long as Draco Malfoy's. "Do I really have to eat this?"

"Only if you want to be 100% sure that you're going to marry Mr. Savior one day." Pansy flicked the turnip. "What does hero taste like?"

Ginny chewed. "Like turnip. When's the after party?"

The short, black-haired Slytherin ran a finger through her bob. "I've never liked you more than I do now, Weasley."

"It's mean that your hiding the firewhisky, Parkinson." The red-head held out her hand. "I thought this was a peace treaty between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"Never peace. More like…" She pulled a flask from her bra and gave it to Ginny. "…mutual respect."

"Better than we were."

The shorter girl nodded. "Better than we were."

Hermione wasn't offered any alcohol, much to her surprise and dismay. Pansy and Ginny fell into their own sort of small talk, and she was left with dirt on her green jersey and wondering if she would really be forced to burn nuts. The second part of the Pairing was intended to evaluate the quality of the potential relationships. And of course, the only way to determine the longevity and happiness of a witch's and wizard's marriage was by burning magic peanuts.

"I think you should take two."

Hermione flinched, almost sputtered, when she saw Blaise lean over her shoulder, enchanted nails touching her neck. Her eyelashes flittered. "I think you have lipstick on your teeth."

"That isn't mine." The Slytherin grinned and it was painfully clear the shade on his lips didn't match the one on his teeth. "Some people are just hot for teacher."

The groan from Hermione's mouth could not be stopped. They were combining traditions—burning the magic peanuts in individual jack-o-lanterns and then gathering the remains to be read at the final part of the Pairing. Her eyes traced the crowded hall for silver hair, but Malfoy was once again lost in the mob of students. Hermione found that odd though. She wasn't sure who he could be possibly hanging out with besides her, Blaise, or Pansy. Are you jealous? She twitched at her own thought and turned back to Blaise as a distraction. "I thought you only take two if you are deciding between two wizards."

"But aren't you?" He raised an eyebrow in anticipation for a reaction. Hermione had the grit to keep her face even. "We're eighteen, Hermione. Half of us haven't even met the person we're supposed to marry yet. Can't hurt to have two, can it?"

"How many are you burning?" She felt herself follow Blaise Zabini to the row of burning pumpkins. To the left of each pumpkin was a small can of magic peanuts. Hermione knelt down in the Quidditch uniform and picked up two randomly. They looked the same. About the same width and height and texture. There was really nothing, in a least normal terms, that would cause them to burn any differently from the other.

"Six."

"Six?!"

"I like having options."

She expected that to sound snide or lilting, but it didn't. Blaise sounded deathly serious and it was just confusing. She didn't know this boy at all. Unlike Draco, who she absolutely abhorred for years and thought she knew very well, she had no actual impression of Blaise besides that he was a slag and must have been terrible for being friends with Draco. And now, well, now she knew better to judge him based on either of those things. She cleared her throat, "Is there some sort of advantage to burning six?"

The boy seemed surprised her response was less biting. "You know this is all bullshit, right?" Blaise sighed seeing her shrug. "No real advantage besides that I get the chance to compare six different girls. I can make it seven and burn one for you. Thoughts?"

A hand wrapped on her shoulder, long fingers massaging her through the green shirt. "I knew you always had a thing for me, Blaise, but leave Granger out of this. It's not her fault my uniform triggered you."

Hermione calmed at the sound of Malfoy's voice. "I do wonder if the old traditions take into account same sex couples. I'm sure there's an updated version we can involve for you, Blaise, if you'd like me to chec…"

"You two are awful together. Have I mentioned that? An absolute nightmare." 'Umbridge' pushed Draco's shoulder. "The crowds are watching Mr. Malfoy."

"Fuck them." His hand slid down Hermione's forearm and waved Blaise off-though it seemed the other Slytherin wanted to escape from them anyway.

Hermione expected Draco to back off and away from her, but his hand was still on her and she felt flushed, heated from his proximity. She wanted to ask if he was sure about this. Because she wasn't. She wasn't quite ready to announce her relationship with Draco Malfoy, and…did they even have a relationship? Did snogging and a few dates mean anything besides just snogging and a few dates?

"Is this enough display of unity, Granger?"

She turned to him. The witch could imagine him saying the same thing to her two years ago, the intonation in his voice still sharply sarcastic. The hand on her didn't loosen up. "I could use a bit more."

He moved closer until they were flushed, his chest against her back. Draco's breath was hot on her neck. "I'm assuming the root you pulled up was 2 cm."

"Oh I think it's a bit longer than that." She had shoved the piece of kale into her trousers' pockets. Hermione turned around, ignoring the perturbed expression when his face caught the dirt on his jersey, and flashed her eyes downwards. "You may be unfamiliar with anything of a longer length, Malfoy."

He snorted. "You're exhausting."

"It's a wonder people like me."

"People? I wouldn't go that far."

"One person maybe." Her Gryffindor bravery was burning through. "There must be at least one."

"I would say one." His eyes caught the peanuts in her grip. "Plan on burning two though?"

"I…I…wasn't. Blaise suggested it." Gosh, what happened to that bravery?

Draco shrugged. "Then by all means. If you have two wizards…"

"Draco…"

"If you have two wizards in mind, burn it now. Get it done and over with." He took a step back and opened the space between them. Hermione thumbed the two objects in her hands.

"You know I don't believe in any of this."

"You shouldn't. It's a bunch of bullshit. Even a Muggle-born like you should know that."

"I could burn two nuts. Even thirty. It wouldn't mean anything." She found that bravery again and took a step closer. "You do know that."

"Why the fuck are you so close to me?"

She smiled and dropped one of the peanuts on the floor before tossing the other one in the fire. It burned quickly, easily, and Hermione blew out the soft pumpkin candle before enchanting the ashes into a tiny, nearby jar. "For unity's sake."

"You're a lunatic." He took the small jar from his own pocket and shook the contents. "See you on the other side."

She felt like a lunatic. She felt incredibly loopy and light and absolutely bonkers. The transition from fall to winter was ending in the Great Hall. Hermione watched as the fire-tinted orange reached a crescendo of ice blue and stark, pure white, vanishing completely with the slow dance of falling snow. Stars burst and ignited the pitch sky, the moon hitting its apex on the ceiling finally. The students as well as the professors applauded at the finale and Hermione herself was a bit in awe at Pansy's charm work.

"I know. It's brilliant. No thanks to you by the way." Pansy stifled another yawn as she approached the young witch. "Are you and Draco dating?"

There it was. Right in the open. Blatant and obvious and way, way too loud. Hermione tried not to fidget. She was pretty sure she failed. "I don't actually know."

"Wait, what? Are you both twelve? How do you not know?"

"Isn't it time to finish this barbaric ritual? Are the younger students all gone?"

"Smooth, Hermione. Incredibly smooth. I have completely forgotten what we were just talking about." The shorter witch laughed at the jar in her hand. "You actually went through it all?"

"It's not that much. You didn't?"

"No." She scoffed. "Some of us are too busy running this thing. But go. Trelawney's reading your aura and then you can hand the items over to McGonagall."

Hermione could not stop the eyeroll. "I suppose I can't skip that part."

"You could have skipped all of this but you didn't. I would pay good money to have Narcissa Malfoy here right now."

She wholeheartedly disagreed.