If Hermione had known she'd tick the complement off her list, she'd have forced herself to recall at the second goal at the very least. As it were, she was nearly shaking with happiness and excitement and her brain was feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges. She was starting to understand why people enjoyed the whole dating scene.

She fixed her tea just how she liked and motioned for Draco to take a biscuit, only to realized he'd already managed to grab one and dip it in his tea.

"As if your tea needs any more sugar," Hermione said, bemused.

"No of course not," Draco said, before biting off the saturated bit of the biscuit. "But I thought your biscuits might, what your parents being teeth healers and all."

Hermione wiggled a bit in her seat, and her smile seemed to stiffen into some unnatural imitation of the real deal. "I am almost certain that you know they're called dentists."

"Have I said something to offend?" Draco asked, setting his half-eaten biscuit on the lid of the tin. He'd have cringed at his oversight of not bringing out saucers if he'd not been so worried he'd said something horribly wrong.

Hermione shook her head quickly, trying to calm him. "Not at all. I just don't speak about my parents very often, is all. It's always a bit of a shock when they're brought up, and worse still when I'm not expecting it."

"I'm sorry," Draco said, ears burning slightly at his misstep. "I'd not known they were a topic to avoid."

Hermione huffed a bit in what Draco thought might be an attempt at a laugh. "How were you to know if I'd not told you? No apology necessary, Draco. I mean it."

Draco straightened from where he'd unwittingly leaned over the coffee table towards her. "Might I ask why it is that you don't like speaking about them? If you'd feel comfortable sharing?"

Hermione sighed. Her plan had quickly been derailed into more serious terrain, but she supposed it was best to have this talk now that the topic was approached rather than have it loom between this as an uncomfortable sort of secret.

She looked him in the eyes. "I am comfortable. Telling you, I mean."

He nodded, and she was certain that he understood what she was unsaid. I trust you.

"A cuppa more, then?"

"Oh yes," Hermione said, "If I run out mid soliloquy, it will really break my concentration. The tea is really necessary in setting the sad story mood."

He paused where he was, just stood from his seat. He was afraid he'd said something wrong, yet again.

"Shoo," Hermione said, glad to have a moment to get her thoughts together. When he came back and the two had sufficiently made up their drinks, she started again. "It's really not a very long story."

"That doesn't mean it's not significant."

"Yes, quite right, well," Hermione hesitated a moment before jumping straight into the problem. "During the war, I removed my parents' memories of me. Not only that, but I changed their memories of themselves – their names, their experiences, their home."

Draco inhaled sharply, choking a bit on his tea. Hermione braced herself for his response. "Merlin, Hermione. Was it- was it not reversible?"

Hermione smiled a bit, comforted by his tender tone. "I was able to reverse it. But my parents were understandably upset at what I'd done. My dad, he's forgiven me. It's awkward between us, but he understands why I did it. Said he'd have done it to my gran and gramps if he were in my shoes."

When Hermione didn't continue after a few beats of silence, Draco prompted her. "And your mother?"

"Ah, my mother," Hermione said savoring the warmth of the tea she'd managed to sip in their moment of silence.

"You know, I see what you mean about the tea being necessary to the ambiance. It really adds something."

"Shush," Hermione said, but she was smiling again. "Mum, well, she hasn't forgiven me. She won't speak to me at all if she can help it. She leaves when she knows I'll be 'round. She won't even stop to yell at me. It's obviously been a few years since I managed to reverse it, and she still won't speak to me. Sometimes when I'm seeing my dad, he'll say 'Mum says to say hullo,' but we both know he's lying."

Hermione took a deep breath in as if to continue speaking, but then she collapsed onto the couch, slumped and disappointed – in her mum and in herself for caring despite knowing what she'd done was right.

"I think I can understand your mother a bit," said, reaching for another biscuit.

Without thinking, Hermione reached out and slapped his hand. "You think I was wrong, then?"

Draco pulled his hand back. This time he knew he'd said something uncomfortable, but he knew it wasn't wrong. "No, Hermione, I don't think you were wrong. I'm a parent, though, and I know if Scorpius did that to me, I'd be livid and petty and might even hold a grudge."

Hermione winced a bit at the idea of sweet Scorpius ever having to make a life-altering decision based on war wrought terror. "But you would understand, Draco. I can't imagine you could really stay angry at him. Get angry? Sure. But stay angry?"

"It's not just anger, though, Hermione. And it's not just directed outwards. I can't speak for your mother, but I know I would feel absolutely disgusted with myself if I, as a parent, failed to protect my son from a situation warranting that decision. As a parent, my one job is to protect my son. Quidditch is merely a paid hobby. It is Scorpius above all, and to fail to protect him..." Draco trailed off, clearly distraught at the thought.

Rather than respond, Hermione continued to sip on her tea. She tried to imagine Scorpius in the same position she had been in just a few years prior. The idea of any child being in that position was horribly upsetting but to imagine Scorpius in it was especially distressing. She became slightly nauseous at the thought. She knew how much Draco loved Scorpius – how much she loved Scorpius – and she struggled to even imagine a world in which he would feel like he had to brave the atrocities she did alone.

Ah.

Hermione stood abruptly and handed her mug to the still seated Draco. "Forgive me, Draco, but I think I must run. This isn't at all how I planned for this to go, but it's been quite what I needed."

She gathered her things and quickly moved for the floo before turning on her heel and heading back to Draco and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you. And don't eat all the cookies before Scorpius gets back!"

With that, she headed back to the floo and this time did not hesitate to return to her own apartment.

Draco sat, a mug in each hand and a half-eaten biscuit hanging from his lip, dazed for several minutes. Truly, Hermione was a tornado of ideas and action, and although Draco adored it, he did wish she might be a bit clearer with what she thought. Perhaps she might treat him like those slow friends of hers occasionally. He might be able to make a fairly good guess at where she was going, but that didn't mean he could understand her completely. Was it too much to tell a bloke what a kiss on the cheek meant? And what exactly had she planned on discussing when she'd not intended to be there in the first place?

He sighed, popped the lid on the biscuit tin, and waited for Scorpius to return.