When Hermione's alarm went off, she opened her eyes to find Rose there, watching her. Her daughter hit the alarm button for her, then hesitantly sat on Hermione's bed.

"Can you tell me more this morning?" Her expression was a mixture of hope and resignation.

Hermione yawned. "Oh, Rose, it's too much to tell before school."

Rose regarded her thoughtfully. "I thought... I would hear about my father proposing to you today."

With a pang, she realized that Rose fully believed Viktor was her father, though it shouldn't have surprised her. It made perfect sense; she'd never mentioned having been engaged before Ron. Naturally, knowing that a proposal was coming, she'd assume it was her father.

"I'm sorry, love. It will have to wait."

Rose's face fell momentarily, then hardened into firm resolve. "But I will hear about my father today, won't I?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Today I will tell you the last part of the story."

"Alright, then." She stood. "I'm going to make breakfast."

Hermione chuckled and got up to get ready for the day.

Once she'd dropped Rose off at school, she returned home. Only now she felt very antsy in her flat; she'd already cleaned everything from top to bottom, and she didn't have any plans for her time. It wasn't the first time she'd been alone all week—she'd spent lots of time alone reading Draco's letters—but she found herself at a loss for what to do. That was different. As she looked around, desperately hoping for something to jump out at her, to call her attention in some way that would keep her mind steady, there was a tapping sound at the window.

Grateful for the distraction, she let the owl in, who flew away as soon as she'd released the letter from its leg. She recognized Ginny's handwriting immediately and quickly tore open the envelope.

hr/

Hermione,

I'm including a Portkey for you. It's set to activate at nine-thirty sharp. All you need to bring with you is a book or something else to do. You'll be inside the whole time, unless you want to go out, so no need to bring anything heavy unless you just want to. More information will be available upon your arrival.

Don't worry—you can trust me.

Not like last time.

Ginny

hr/

Hermione chuckled at the last sentence of the brief note then looked for what Ginny might have sent as the Portkey. When she shook the envelope, a wrapper of some kind fell out. A quick glance at the clock revealed that she had about twenty-three minutes to decide if she was going to accept Ginny's offer or not. The thing was, Ginny was supposed to be at Quidditch practice right now. She had been playing for the Holyhead Harpies for about six years, and they were well into the season. Where might Ginny be taking her?

The curiosity was overwhelming, plus Hermione appreciated the opportunity to get out of her flat. She'd dealt with quite a bit two days earlier with Harry, but she was feeling uncharacteristically restless and knew that if she stayed home, she'd end up overthinking everything and fall into familiar, unpleasant thinking patterns. The most common mind pit was the voice in her head that told her she would never find anybody else. She knew, when she considered it logically, that she had a great chance of falling in love again, but there was an ever-present part of her that kept popping in to remind her of all of her deepest insecurities.

Still, she was absolutely going to accept the Portkey.

After collecting a small bag of things to take, Hermione prepared a cup of tea. Who knew if there would be anything halfway decent to drink wherever Ginny was sending her, and if her plan was anything like the last time, there'd be nothing worth speaking of.

When it came time to leave, Hermione gripped the candy wrapper like a lifeline. She felt the familiar pull behind her navel and closed her eyes to mitigate the disorienting experience.

She heard absolutely nothing when she landed. It was a blissful silence, unlike anything she'd experienced all week. For a moment, she tried to guess where Ginny had sent her, but then she heard a shrill whistle and knew immediately.

She turned her eyes, expecting to find herself in one of the private boxes in the Holyhead Quidditch stadium. She was, but to her surprise, the entire space had been altered. Gone was the usual decor of Harpies posters everywhere, luxurious yet still utilitarian stadium seats, and ubiquitous tables and chairs. In their place was a very comfortable looking sofa equipped with a chaise at one end. There were lots of blankets and pillows artfully arranged on it and a small end table with a lamp and a stack of books. In place of the usual table was a smaller one, on top of which was an ice bucket complete with a bottle of champagne and a single glass.

Hermione laughed. She crossed to the table and saw another note beside the ice.

hr/

Hermione,

I don't care that it's too early to drink champagne. You successfully made it through your divorce from my brother, and you deserve it. Admit it, none of your other friends have been so thoughtful.

I can only imagine how hard this week has been for you. I know how much you wrestled with this decision, and you know I believe it's for the best. Still, I know you've probably doubted and second-guessed everything this week, but I want you to stop. At least for a few hours.

This box is yours for as long as you want it. I get a break around lunch time, so if you want me to join you, send a Patronus around one. If you'd rather be alone, that's fine too. I suspect you could use some time just for yourself.

Just remember this, in case I don't get to tell you in person: there is life after the Weasleys. I know it sounds strange coming from me, but it's true. Harry's done great after we split and lots of ex-girlfriends of my brothers can testify to the same.

I'm glad you took the Portkey.

Ginny

P.S. When you're ready to eat, there's a menu on the stack of books. Just open it, tap it with your wand, and say what you want. The food will appear on the table.

hr/

Hermione smiled at how thoughtful her friends were. Each one had done something different to make her week pass pleasantly.

And it was true that she hadn't spent much time just for herself. When she wasn't with a friend, she'd been with Rose, and on the rare occasions without her daughter, she'd been reading through Draco's letters. It didn't quite count as alone time though; she'd been doing her best to distract herself from thinking too much.

Now she would accept Ginny's offer and take her suggestion. Spending some time in a new environment where nothing was familiar, nothing would trip a memory or make her think about anything, might be just the thing she needed.

Hermione poured herself a glass of champagne and went to the sofa to peruse the book offerings. To her surprise, she found not novels but various types of books. On top was a journal. Underneath that were a few books on self-care after a divorce. Then came a photo book of beautiful scenery around the world, and the last item—

Hermione blushed when she saw the latest issue of PlayWitch, a photo of a strapping man with dark hair on the cover wearing nothing but a shamrock held over his groin. There was a note stuck to the cover:

I know this isn't really your thing, but my guess is it's been a long time since you saw a man naked. Enjoy.

She chuckled and reformed the stack, then took the journal off the top. Ginny had clearly put a lot of thought into prepping the room, and Hermione was deeply touched. She hadn't been worried that Ginny wouldn't be her friend anymore, though she knew that she was now removed from the full intimacy with the only family she really had anymore. But it seemed Ginny had no intention of letting anything change between them, and tears pricked her eyes.

The journal turned out to be more than just empty pages with reflection questions printed on some of the pages. They were tailored for someone going through a difficult time, and Hermione flipped through, finding a few she intended to answer. There were plenty of blank pages as well, and before she knew it, the words were flowing.

The time flew as she put her thoughts into the journal, writing out her fears and deepest hopes for the future. She didn't mention Draco by name, but he kept creeping up in her thoughts about what she hoped for her life. Mainly, she wanted the opportunity to show him what he'd missed out on before.

Even still, she hesitated to be very detailed about it, despite Rose's insistence that he'd felt something for her while she'd been with Viktor. That seemed unlikely, honestly. Nevertheless, the notion wouldn't leave her in peace.

The sound of another whistle drew her from her thoughts, and she saw that it was one. Hermione quickly sent Ginny a Patronus telling her she'd love to have lunch together.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded and a voice called out. "It's me, Hermione. You have to let me in."

Hermione rushed to open the door. Ginny was beaming at her and flung her arms around Hermione's neck as soon as she could.

"Oh, Ginny." She pulled away from her friend, trying unsuccessfully not to make a face.

"I know I smell. Hard not to get sweaty after practicing all morning." Ginny tromped into the box, eyeing it appreciatively. "Good, you've had a drink... or two. Let's eat. I could eat a Hippogriff."

Hermione rolled her eyes and fetched the menu. "I glanced in here earlier. Everything sounds delicious to me now."

"Sounds like you're hungry too." She took the menu and quickly placed an order. "I know everything they have here. Let me know if you have any questions about anything."

Hermione nodded but found something quickly without help. The food arrived almost immediately after ordering, and they sat down.

"What have you found to occupy yourself?" Ginny sent a sideways glance toward the stack of books, smirking slightly to see the PlayWitch undisturbed.

"The journal, mostly. It's been so good. Thank you, Ginny, for everything today." She smiled gratefully at her friend.

"You're welcome. It's not every day you break up with your childhood sweetheart." She grimaced slightly. "I still remember how hard it was to tell Harry I didn't love him."

Hermione let out a sigh. "I'll always love Ron, of course."

"But you two were a disaster. I'm amazed you lasted as long as you did, honestly."

"We did it for—"

"Rose, I know." Ginny put her hand on Hermione's wrist. "And she is so lucky to have you. But." She withdrew her hand and resumed eating. "Rose deserves to see you happy. And Ron. I hope the two of you can find something better than what you had." She smiled sadly.

"Yes, I definitely agree with you there." She shrugged and pushed some food around on her plate. "I've simply had other things to focus on for a long time. Finding someone else hasn't been all that urgent."

"I know. But now you can. You know we all want you to be happy."

Hermione bit her lip. "Your family does? Or just you?"

Ginny gave her an impatient look. "All of us. We all love you still, just as much as ever. Of course some are sadder than others—you know how mum is—but we've also seen everything. We've watched you and Ron over the years, and we all know and accept that you two aren't a good match."

"Harry said as much. And I know this has been a long time coming, that this is nothing new, but... it's final now. I can't help but think your mother had hoped we'd somehow magically work things out and decide not to go through with the divorce."

Ginny shrugged. "If she did, that's on her. Nobody else even whispered such a thought. At least not to me."

Hermione sighed. "I do know all of this. But... I still doubt. And worry."

"And overthink, yes, we all know." Ginny chuckled. "But we all genuinely love you. Are you coming on Sunday?"

"Oh, I don't think so. I think Ron ought to have one week without me there." She felt a sudden well of deep sadness; what would she do while Ron and Rose were at the Burrow? Even Harry would be there.

"You get one week." Ginny pointed her fork at Hermione. "Then I expect to see you back. We're still family, remember?"

"Yes, I know. Technically." She grimaced, suddenly not terribly hungry.

Ginny chewed thoughtfully for a long moment. "Listen. Let's be real. Someday, you're going to bring someone new to the Burrow. Ron will too." The very idea made her feel anxious. Ginny must have noticed. "I'm not saying it's going to be any time soon. But someday, it will happen. How do you think it will go?"

"Hopefully it will be fine." Unbidden, an image of herself with Draco at the Burrow came to mind, and she frowned. He'd been there plenty of times, even bringing Astoria with him occasionally, but it would be something else entirely for them to attend together. Yet again, though, she was getting ahead of herself. Such a scenario was extremely unlikely.

"It will be. I promise." Ginny gave her a reassuring smile. "We all love you, just remember that. Once a Weasley, always a Weasley."

Hermione laughed. "Even if my name is only Granger?"

"Yes, of course." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry is family, and his name has never been connected to Weasley."

"Yes, but Harry is Harry." He could do no wrong in Molly's eyes.

"Oh, trust me, I know." Ginny chuckled wryly. "When Mum found out I had ended things, she couldn't look at me without bursting into tears. She wanted Harry as a son so badly. I've never been more of a disappointment to her than I was at that moment."

"But she loves Blaise."

"She adores him. And I know she can see the difference, see why things didn't work with Harry. But she will always consider Harry family."

Hermione smiled. "Good. He needs a family."

"Well, this has been lovely, but I have to get back to practice." Ginny glanced out the window of the box. "I see the others out there. Stay as long as you like, Hermione."

"I have to get Rose before too long. I'll probably be here another hour or so. And Ginny, thank you. This has been really nice."

Ginny tilted her head to the side. "Good. See you Sunday, Hermione."

hr/

To Hermione's surprise, Rose didn't ask for the story when she picked her up from school. Nor did she mention it when they got home, or over dinner. She was very subdued and went to get ready for bed without even being asked.

Hermione expected her to come back into the kitchen after putting on her pajamas, but a few minutes after she heard the water turn off in the bathroom, she went to investigate.

Rose was in her bed, staring at the wall. She looked over when she heard her mother enter and gave her a weak smile.

"Hey. What's going on with you?" Hermione sat on the bed, peering at her daughter with concern.

Rose shrugged and went back to staring at the wall. After a moment, she finally spoke. "Mum, I don't think I want to hear any more of the story."

This admission surprised Hermione. "I see. That's fine, of course. May I ask why?"

"I know how the story ends already." She met her gaze. "You and Daddy got divorced."

Hermione's heart sank. She moved closer to sit beside Rose and started to gently rub her fingers through her hair. "Even though your father and I didn't last, we still had a great love story. He was still extremely important to me. And, in the end, we both got the best gift in the world." Rose met her eyes, her own expression guarded. "You."

Rose heaved a great sigh and turned away again.

Hermione hesitated, not knowing quite what to do. "Alright, dear. Would you like me to read to you?"

She didn't respond right away. "Mum? Are you sorry you married my dad?"

"That's an excellent question, and an easy one." She smiled lovingly at Rose. "No, I'm not sorry one bit. If we hadn't married, we'd never have had you. And you are the best thing to come from your father and me."

"But what if you'd married someone else, someone you would never divorce. Wouldn't that be better?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'll never know, and it doesn't matter. There's no point in wondering what might have happened if we'd made different choices. It's in the past, and we can't possibly know all of the different paths our lives might have taken. It's impossible to know, and it can only make you dissatisfied to dwell on it." After another stretch of silence, Hermione scooted closer and ran her hand down Rose's hair. "How about it? Shall I read to you now?"

"No." Rose rolled onto her back. "I want you to continue the story."

"Are you sure?" Hermione was genuinely surprised.

Rose nodded. "I do want to hear how Daddy proposed. Lila told me about her parents."

"Alright. I'm happy to tell you that. So would you rather I jump ahead to that, then?"

"I thought it was about to happen. With Elliot."

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, not exactly."

Rose's face lit up. "Really? Oh." She sat up. "Do I need my notes?"

"I don't know. That's up to you."

Rose hopped up, went to her school bag, and pulled out the clipboard. "I thought Elliot was my father. Because you told Luke he was going to propose."

"And he did. And I accepted."

Rose gave her a bewildered look. "So what happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, he asked me to marry him that night, and I said yes. Everyone was very happy for us, and we spent a delightful two months planning a wedding."

"Uh oh. Two months isn't very long."

"No. If you'll remember, Elliot had agreed to work for one year. When that time ended, he was asked to stay, and he did. But then when the second term came to a close, he got another offer, one he was very interested in."

hr/

"Bulgaria?"

Viktor beamed at her. "Yes, I'd get to go home."

The casual way he referred to Bulgaria as home stung slightly, even though she knew it was silly. Of course it was home; she'd only thought maybe she was home by now. Maybe that would come in time.

"Bulgaria. This... is quite a surprise. I'd expected you were here for a bit longer." In truth, she hadn't considered the possibility that he might want to play elsewhere. She was in England, he'd moved there for her, so it followed logically that he'd stay there for her, as well.

Perhaps not.

"I've wanted to go back ever since I left. I've missed it more than I thought I would." He'd never been shy in discussing his home country, but he'd never explicitly said he wanted to return there.

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm excited for you, Viktor."

His wide grin faltered. "For me? What about us?"

"Well, the move would involve you, wouldn't it?"

"Us, Herm-owny. We are to be married. You'd come with me, of course." He frowned. "Wouldn't you?"

She wanted desperately to tell him yes, to be able to so carelessly and effortlessly turn her back to everything she'd worked for, everyone else she loved.

Actually, no, she didn't want that to be an easy decision. It should be hard, something she'd need to wrestle with for a while. Viktor had done it, though; he'd come to England for her, it had seemed easy for him, but she hadn't asked him to. Why had she thought he would stay? Why hadn't she considered this option before?

"What about my career?"

"I can help you find a job in Bulgarian Ministry."

The idea grated on her; she didn't want a job because Viktor asked someone if she could have it. She wanted to earn it, to belong there. Moving to Bulgaria would mean completely starting over. Not to mention she might always wonder whether anything she achieved would be on her own merit.

"Viktor, I... I need some time with this."

"You do?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yes! Absolutely. It would be a huge decision." Her heart was racing, and not in a good way. "I think we should talk about this some more."

"You expected me to stay in England?"

"I honestly never thought about it! You played two seasons here, so I... I suppose I thought you'd stay here longer." How had they been dating for so long and never had this discussion? The answer came to her just as quickly as the question had: she hadn't wanted to think about it.

"I came here for you. Now that you've agreed to be my wife, I can take you back to my home." His expression was wary, as though he hadn't anticipated this reaction to what, for him, was excellent news.

"You've been to tryouts for Bulgarian teams and didn't tell me?"

His eyes widened. "Oh no, not at all." He shifted uncomfortably and gave her a sheepish grin. "They come to see me play and, well..."

"You're you. No tryouts necessary." Of course he wouldn't need to prove his abilities. He was a lot like Harry in that people wanted him on their side, no questions asked, nothing to prove. "Did you invite them to come watch you?"

And like Harry, Viktor was uncomfortable with the spotlight. He blushed slightly and turned away. "Well. They offered. I didn't say no. Why would I? Anybody can see me play at games and practices."

"So what does this mean? What if I don't want to move to Bulgaria?"

His expression told her that the idea had never entered his mind that she wouldn't want to go. He wasn't completely conceited, but in his position, it would be impossible for him not to have developed some form of an ego. He was used to things going easily for him, which they always did. He couldn't escape from being who he was, and she'd never begrudged it in him. She knew plenty well what it was like.

But despite her own fame and status, there were still plenty of doors that wouldn't open for her. She'd never enjoyed the same level of fame as Harry or Viktor.

"Why wouldn't you?" It was a simple question with a complex answer.

"I'm not saying I don't, but I don't know right now. There's much to consider. I know my job right now isn't glamorous, but it's a stepping stone to where I want to be someday."

"You can do the same work in Bulgaria."

She shook her head. "I'd have to learn a whole new set of laws. There are different creatures in Bulgaria." She didn't voice her desire to be Minister of Magic someday; achieving that position in Bulgaria seemed all but impossible.

"But you're brilliant! Learning something new will be no trouble." She didn't love the way he was so easily dismissive of her concerns.

"Then there's the fact that all of my friends live here."

He flapped his hand dismissively. "International travel is very easy. You can visit any time you like."

"It's not the same, and you know it. You can't just Apparate internationally without going through the proper channels—"

"Which will be easy to do—"

"But they make it nearly impossible to simply pop over for a cuppa when I want to see someone!" Hermione stopped and forced herself to calm down. She didn't want to argue with him, but this line of conversation wasn't going to be productive. She needed to think. "Viktor. I'm thrilled that you've been given an opportunity to play in Bulgaria again. But I still need time to think."

He started to protest but something in her expression—which was determined and unmovable—stopped him. "Yes. Of course. I should have known."

"What does that mean?" It slipped out before she could think, a clear bite in her tone.

"You think so much. I had thought, foolishly perhaps, that you wouldn't need to think about this." His jaw was set, and something hard came over his expression.

"You expected me to be thrilled, didn't you? To jump over the chance? Tell me something, Viktor, how many other players' spouses work?"

He scowled. "I don't know all the specifics of other players' lives."

She crossed her arms. "My guess is that it's not very many. How common is it to move? To change teams? In five years, are you going to want to play somewhere else? Uproot our lives again and take us across the world?" Merlin, her mind was spinning with the ramifications. The possibilities seemed endless; a new country every year, especially for someone like Viktor who was famous all over Europe.

She thought briefly of Oliver Wood who played for Puddlemere United and had for years. At least his situation seemed stable, though all it would take was a good offer somewhere else, and he'd probably go somewhere else, too.

The life of a Quidditch spouse had to be difficult; or, the spouse had to be flexible. She wondered how they did it and decided to ask Ginny, who would surely have some insight as a reserve player for Holyhead.

"It's not uncommon, I'll admit, but Hermione, you will be able to find something anywhere we might go!" He was almost pleading with her now, fear bright in his dark eyes.

She tried to smile reassuringly. "Viktor, I just need time. That's all. It's a lot. I'm not saying anything right now, just thinking out loud."

"Time," he repeated.

"Yes." She kissed him softly. "Time."

He let out a deflated sigh. "Time I can do."

hr/

As soon as she could, Hermione went to Ginny's flat to ask about what it was like to be married to a Quidditch player.

"Well, I'm not married to one." Ginny chuckled, amused at herself. "Butterbeer?'

Hermione rolled her eyes. "But you're around them a lot. What's it like for their spouses? Do they work? What do they do? How often do players change teams?"

Ginny shrugged. "In England, it's pretty common."

"But I wouldn't think changing teams in the English League would affect things much, what with Apparating and traveling by Floo network." She pursed her lips in thought.

"No. What's this about? Krum changing teams next season?"

Hermione grimaced. "He's been offered a place on the Bulgarian team."

Ginny's eyes went wide. "Oh, wow. I mean... That makes sense, I suppose, though it is unusual. So many players around the world want to come to England to play; it's seen as the ultimate destination. If you make it here, you're set for 's not often that someone leaves to play somewhere else. "

"I'm merely trying to gather information. I need to know what my life will look like." She faltered slightly.

"Oh, bloody hell. Yeah, right. Well listen, I know internationally, it's similar to England. A country has multiple teams, and players trade among them. But really big stars, like Viktor, are sought after for other reasons, such as playing on the country's team. You must be on a national team in order to play for the country in the World Cup."

"And naturally, he'd want to play for his home country. But Ginny, how can I just leave everything I've worked for, everything I hope to do, and move to Bulgaria?" She felt slightly panicked. "I'd have to leave my job, everyone I know..."

"And there's no guarantee you won't move again in a few years." Ginny nodded sympathetically. "It's not uncommon for players to move to a new country to play, and someone of Viktor's calibre will be highly recruited no matter where he is. Though, he might be very happy staying in Bulgaria for the rest of his career."

Hermione sighed. "Even if he never left Bulgaria, I'm not sure I want to live there for the rest of my life. I have plans, dreams, ambitions that involve me being here." She felt tears smart in her eyes. "I can't believe this is happening."

Ginny put a comforting hand on her arm. "Don't fret, Hermione. I'm sure you and Viktor will work through this. He adores you."

hr/

Five days later, Hermione didn't feel any better. In fact, she felt worse. She'd spoken to as many players as she could, and they all expressed a similar sentiment: if their spouses worked, it was always in something that was really portable. Even changing teams within a country sometimes necessitated a move. That wouldn't matter so much to Hermione if they stayed in England, but Bulgaria was a completely different story.

Not that she cared about expectations, but it was the general practice for spouses of players to put their own interests aside any time they conflicted with Quidditch. Very few had careers; most had only simple jobs they worked as a way to pass the days.

It was with a twisted knot in her stomach and a broken heart that Hermione spoke to Viktor after taking a week to think. He'd stayed a few nights at a Muggle hotel, then she had as well. They couldn't afford to let the press get wind of any trouble or it would be all over the papers, and as yet there was nothing to report.

When Viktor showed up at the hotel, he looked terrible. Her heart ached at seeing him so distraught, and she immediately held out her arms. He shuffled into her embrace, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his head in her neck.

When they broke apart, his expression showed utter despair. Hermione took his hand and they sat down on the sofa. "Hey."

The corner of his lip quirked, but that was the best he could manage. Her hands shook as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Viktor."

"I can't bear it another moment, Hermione. What do you have to say?"

"Viktor, you have to know how much I love you." She reached up to touch his cheek, but he flinched and she withdrew her hand, fighting tears. "I love you so much. And I'm so glad you came to England, that we shared this time together."

"I'll stay." He met her gaze with a strong, determined one of his own. "I've already decided. Say the word, Hermione, and I'll keep playing for England."

That only made the break in her heart complete. "I cannot ask that of you."

"You don't have to. I'm doing it. It's my choice."

She shook her head sadly. "But for how long? How long would you be content to play here, when your heart is in Bulgaria?"

"My heart is right beside me."

"No. You say that now, but how long will you be content here? Five years? Ten? I'm afraid you'll resent me long before that."

"I won't." She knew he wanted to sound firm but there was a slight tremor to his voice. It confirmed what she knew and made her decision easier to bear.

"I love you. I do, with all my heart. But I'd be miserable without something to do, something worthwhile. I can't let you stay here." She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "And I can't move to Bulgaria. I'm so, so sorry. Sorrier than I can possibly say."

He didn't speak right away, only looked at her with his heart wide on display, his eyes watering slightly before he turned away. "Is this your choice then?"

"Yes. It has to be. If you stay here, you'll grow to resent me." She swallowed hard. "And if I go, I know I'll grow to resent you. I'm not the type who can just give up my dreams, my hopes for my life. I'm so sorry."

"Why do you? If you come with me, why do you think you have to give all of that up?" He asked the question though his voice lacked conviction or passion.

"Because I can't possibly affect change in England when I'm not living here. It's simply impossible." She took his hand, and he let her, threading his fingers through hers and staring at their joined hands. "This is my home, just as Bulgaria is yours. I'm so sorry I can't be the person you want me to be."

"You are." His voice broke. "You are everything I want."

She shook her head. "No. Obviously not, because I can't go with you."

"No. You are exactly the woman I want. Your drive and ambition are part of what makes me love you."

hr/

"Wait a minute. Is it really going to end like this?" Rose clearly couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Elliot takes the other job in America?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "Yes. We broke up, even though we desperately loved each other. It just wasn't enough."

Rose was quiet, her brow furrowed slightly and deep in thought. "What I want to know is, what was your big ambition?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because... I want to… have you achieved it?"

Hermione felt like someone had knocked the wind from her lungs. "What?"

"You let Elliot move to America because of your plans and dreams. After all this time, I hope you got what you wanted to stay for." Rose looked at her hopefully.

Hermione felt slightly shattered. After reliving her breakup with Viktor, to have her daughter remind her that she had not, in fact, achieved her dreams, was like a slap in the face.

"Oh, um, wow. Well, it hasn't happened yet. My ultimate wish, which I suppose could still happen, would take years to achieve." She frowned, thinking of the mediocre job she'd been working since separating from Ron. Where exactly had her life gotten off track?

"So you let him go and then didn't even pursue your dream?" Rose gaped at her.

"It's... complicated." Hermione cringed. "I was pretty devastated after that breakup. And then... Well, do you want to hear more tonight?"

"Yes of course!" Rose cried emphatically. "Are you going to tell me more?"

"I told you we'd get to the end tonight. And I meant it."

"Oh, yes!" Rose appeared completely interested again, and Hermione supposed it was because she still didn't know the answer to the mystery. "But it's not Elliot? He's not my father?"

"No."

"But you loved him so much! Do you regret that choice?"

Hermione sighed, waiting to see what emotions drifted to the surface with Rose's question. There was nothing but a warm feeling of fondness for Viktor. "No. I don't regret it."

"But why not? You loved him! Didn't he make you incandescently happy?" Rose seemed completely confused.

"I did love him, very much." Hermione bit her lip. Had he made her that happy? She didn't think so. After all the years of separation from Viktor, she firmly believed she had made the right choice. "He was my second real love, after Mark. Remember him?"

Rose made a face. "The first boyfriend. Yes, I remember him. But why, after everything that's gone wrong with Daddy, don't you regret not choosing Elliot?"

Hermione chuckled. "Because, dear. It's exactly like I told Elliot. We'd have ended up resenting each other. I knew the kind of man he was—is—and he wouldn't have been happy staying in England for the rest of his life. I skipped over a lot of that story, but he was always wanting to travel and see new places. I loved traveling, and so I often went with him. But that extended to everything about him. He wouldn't have been content living in only one place forever."

Rose seemed thoughtful. "I see. I think I understand? I'm not surprised anymore that he isn't my father. I thought he was. But if not him, then who?"

"Only one way to find out... Now, as I was saying. Elliot had offered to stay in England, and I refused his offer. I also told him I wouldn't move to Bulgaria. He wouldn't let me return the engagement ring that night, but he left the hotel room. I didn't see him for two days."

hr/

When Viktor knocked on the door again, Hermione felt her stomach clenched in knots.

She let him in, and he looked terrible, as though he hadn't slept in weeks. "Hi."

He slumped toward her and wrapped his arms around her. "I love you, Hermione. I hate that I don't get to keep showing you."

Tears fell down her cheeks, and she held him tightly. They stayed that way for a long time, then Viktor pulled back and she saw how red his eyes were.

"I'm so sorry." With shaking hands, she pulled off the ring he'd given her and held it out. With what seemed like tremendous effort, he took it from her, his shoulders slumping even more. Then he kissed her, one last, desperate attempt to show her how much he loved her.

But she tasted salt, and there was no way to know whose tears they were. When they finally broke apart, he had tear tracks down his cheeks.

"I'll always love you, Hermione. You—you were the first person to want to see me, to get to know who I am. I'll never forget you."

hr/

"Wait a minute. You were his first love?" Rose's eyes were dreamy as she looked at her mother.

"Yes, I was." It was a sweet thought.

Rose sat up in bed. "Well, is it too late? Can you find him now?"

Hermione let out a surprised laugh. "Find Elliot? What for?"

"To see if he still loves you, of course! If you're his first love, maybe he still loves you!"

"Oh, darling, no, I'm afraid not. He is happily married and lives where his job took him. His wife is truly perfect for him, far better than I would have been."

Rose's face fell. "He's married?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, my dear. I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"No, I'm not disappointed. Not if he wasn't your incandescent love." She settled back under the covers. "Will you go on? But skip any more breakup stuff with Elliot, please. It's boring."

She laughed out loud at that assessment. "As you wish, my love. Well, as you could perhaps imagine, my breakup with Elliot was devastating. It was very hard because we still loved each other dearly. I hardly left the hotel room that day or the next, but I soon realized I couldn't stay there. So I went to see David."

"Wait, who?"

Hermione laughed at the look on Rose's face. "A dear friend. Only a friend, I assure you, one who happened to have an extra room in his house."

hr/

As soon as Harry got a good look at her, he pulled her inside. "What's wrong?"

"Viktor and I... We broke up." She could barely force the last words out because they threatened to consume her. She burst into sobs, and Harry wrapped her in his arms.

She stayed there for a week, barely eating. She slept whenever she wasn't at work—not that she was any use to anybody there. The entire wizarding world in England knew what had happened—the essentials, anyway, not the full truth—and she stumbled through her days, enduring the whispers of her colleagues, the long stares, and the outright gossip.

In the papers, speculation was rampant. Viktor maintained that the decision was mutual, that they'd parted well and there had been no scandal. But Hermione knew that the people she saw every day, especially Gertrude, blamed her. In the little bits of gossip she picked up, she learned that most people believed she had been at fault, had done something so awful that Viktor had ended things, and now she was devastated because she no longer had such a high-profile boyfriend.

They could all rot, the lot of them.

Her brightest moments were at Grimmauld Place with Harry and the other people he recruited to cheer her up. For the first two weeks, every day was a surprise as to what he'd planned or who he'd invited over. By the end of that time, she'd started to look forward to leaving work, and not just to be free of her co-workers' judgment.

Hermione found, after not very long, that her favorite moments were those with just Harry and Ron.

hr/

"Wait, wait, wait, wait." Rose pushed herself to a sitting position and gaped at Hermione. "Mark? The first boyfriend? Why is he around?"

Hermione had to laugh. "Mark had always been around. We'd been friends all through Hogwarts, and after our relationship fizzled, we eventually settled back into friendship. Though it was very strained for at least a year."

Rose shut her mouth, shaking her head as she settled back into the covers. "I did not see that coming."

"Shall I continue?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright. Like I was saying, I quickly found that some of the best times I had were spent with David and Mark..."

hr/

The days blurred as Hermione pushed through each one, but before she knew it, the Christmas season had arrived. Ron came over to Grimmauld Place more frequently, and Hermione found herself awaiting his visits with more than just casual interest. He, even more than Harry, was able to get her mind off Viktor, and he made her laugh like nobody else.

Then something happened on Christmas Day at the Burrow that sent her down a completely different path than she'd ever imagined finding herself on. Molly had strung up mistletoe, as she did every year for its beauty, and while hurrying down the hall on an errand for her, Hermione and Ron happened to cross paths under an especially lovely sprig. It wasn't a magical mistletoe, but Blaise Zabini, who'd been invited for the first time by Ginny, just happened to catch them at the exact moment when they'd both arrived under the feisty plant. He immediately started making a big deal about it, laughing and cajoling and making it impossible for them to escape without kissing. Ron was completely red in the face, and Hermione was blushing furiously, but she stepped on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. Ron barely moved except to lean into her very slightly—so slight she wondered if she'd imagined it.

When Hermione pulled away, there was a delightful fluttering of nerves in her tummy. She overbalanced and had to put her hand on Ron's chest to keep from tripping. There was something intense in his eyes when they met hers. She hurried away, but the feel of his skin on her lips lingered.

Hr/

"Wait. Mum!" Rose drew out the word in exasperation. "Why are you kissing Mark? He hurt you so much before!"

Hermione chuckled sadly and kissed Rose's hair. "You're absolutely right, he did. But he had apologized for what happened when I was dating Joey. It's one reason we became friends again. He was really and truly sorry, and since I missed my friend, I forgave him. I mean, I forgave him long before then, but his apology allowed us to begin rebuilding our friendship."

Rose frowned. "Why did you forgive him before he apologized? Isn't that backwards?"

"Not always. Forgiveness is for the person who gives it more than the person who receives. The person who has done wrong—in my case, it was Mark, for kissing someone else when he was with me—may not be sorry for a long time, if ever. But if I held on to that bitterness, that hurt, waiting for him to see the truth of what he'd done, then that would only hurt me. He isn't suffering, I am. And those emotions of hurt— if they're allowed to build and fester—will only lead to more pain and hurt."

Rose still looked confused, and Hermione figured it might be too abstract for her very literal-minded child to grasp.

"You don't need to understand now, love. Someday you will."

Rose looked at her notes once more. "You said we'd be finishing tonight, that I'll hear how Daddy proposed to you. Is that still the plan?"

"Yes, if you'd like."

"I would. Please continue." She set her notes side and snuggled under the covers.

"Well, I knew after that brief kiss that I felt something for Mark, whether something brand new or an old ember that had lain in wait for years, I wasn't sure, but I had no idea what to think about it. It wasn't until a few months later after a long walk around London that something happened."

"What happened?" Rose eyed her warily.

Hermione laughed. "We kissed. And it was so much better than that peck on the cheek at Christmas."

Rose made a face. "I don't want those details, please, Mum. Just... skip ahead a bit. What's the point of all of this?"

"Ah, yes. The point. Before I get to that though, I need to know that you understand why I forgave Mark. Or at least trust that I had good reason and trusted him completely."

Rose let out an enormous exaggerated sigh. "I think I do. Trust you, I mean. I've had friends hurt my feelings before, and we always make up. It's kind of like that."

"Very much like that, yes." Except she'd had to decide to trust Ron with her heart again, which was a very different thing. But Rose didn't need those kinds of details at this point.

"Can we move on now? I'm pretty sure I already know where this is going."

"Oh you do, do you?" Hermione gave her a sideways look and saw Rose watching her closely.

"Yes. But let's get to the part where you decided you wanted to be with him. Like really be with him. Marry him."

"You figured it out?" Hermione felt a wave of sadness.

Rose nodded. "It's Mark. He's my dad. I know because he's been your friend for so long. And he was the first boyfriend—I figured it couldn't possibly be him when he was there at the beginning, but I hadn't considered he might come back. So it makes sense."

"Do you still want to hear?"

Rose was thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "I still want to know why you married him. And why he wasn't the one you wanted to keep forever."

"I'm not sure that's a topic for tonight. Let's just finish this part, with Mark—I mean, your father." Hermione started to gently rub Rose's back. "We kissed near the end of March, but it wasn't until a couple of weeks later that anyone knew about it. We were at the Burrow for a family meal..."

Hr/

Hermione was walking briskly through the house, looking for Ginny. She was probably off in a corner somewhere, snogging Blaise. She'd been through nearly every room in the house already and only had a few left to check.

She turned a corner and found herself in the same hallway where she and Ron had been caught under the mistletoe. Just at that moment, he appeared at the other end. Hermione had every intention of walking past him on her search for Ginny, but she caught his eye, glanced up to the ceiling where the mistletoe had hung, and winked as she passed.

She felt pretty good about her simple flirtation, but she had no time to enjoy her fun. Ron grabbed her wrist as she walked by, spun her against the wall, and started kissing her. Passionately.

It didn't last long. At the first sound of someone else in the house, he stepped back, a very pleased expression on his face. He winked back at her and continued on his way, leaving her breathless in the hallway.

She thought no more of it until later that evening, once all the children were tucked in bed and the adults were sitting around talking. All of them, from Arthur and Molly all the way down to Ginny and everyone in between who was there, were sitting around a fire, enjoying the beautiful evening. The sun was setting and casting a golden light over everything. It was lovely, and they sat in silent awe of the display for a few minutes.

Then Blaise tossed back a swallow of his drink. "So are you two, uh, together?" He waved a finger back and forth between them and smirked. "And I'd think carefully about how you answer because I saw the two of you in the hall earlier." Hermione blushed scarlet. She was pressed against Ron as close as she could possibly sit and not be in his lap.

Ron looked at her with his familiar crooked smile. "It's safe to say we're something, I think."

Ginny's jaw dropped. Molly squealed and clapped her hands together. Harry looked stunned. There was a mixture of confusion, suspicion, and amusement on the faces of the others. Then almost everyone started talking all at once, wanting to know what had happened and how, who had made the first move, and why hadn't they told anyone?

Hermione found herself enjoying the attention, and she reveled in the realization that her being with Ron made so many people happy. In knowing that, if they stayed together, she'd have an automatic family who loved and supported her. It was an overwhelming realization. After ending things with Viktor because she didn't want to leave England, having everyone's love for her confirmed in such an enthusiastic manner made her feel truly accepted for the first time in a very long time.

Right there, surrounded by the family she had loved for over half of her life, was exactly where she wanted to be. And she was allowed approximately thirty seconds to bask in that before Ginny demanded to know what had happened. The intense, single-minded fire in her eyes made it clear she wouldn't take no for an answer.

Hermione blushed and looked at Ron, who was grinning at her. Then she cleared her throat. "Well, I suppose it started with Ron coming around Grimmauld Place, since I'm staying there with Harry. And it was so nice having the three of us together again."

"But then I started showing up when Harry wasn't there." He nudged his knee against hers. "Remember?"

"Yes, of course! You were so confused when he wasn't there that first time."

Ron smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, um, about that... I was totally pretending to be surprised."

Her eyes went wide. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I knew Harry was away. But I wanted to spend a little time with you." He shrugged, clearly unapologetic. "Only you."

Hermione's heart swelled with pleasure. "I didn't know that." Someone cleared their throat, drawing Hermione's attention away from Ron's smitten smile. "As I was saying, he came once when Harry wasn't there, and we had a nice time, just the two of us."

"I wasn't sure what she thought of it, but I was definitely interested." The look he gave her was pure affection. "I mean, I've always been interested, really."

Hermione felt like she was floating. Ron had long ago apologized for his indiscretions during their first time dating, but he'd only recently really opened up about how he'd felt during eighth year. They'd talked through everything, and Hermione believed he would never do something like it again. Kissing the other woman had been a poor decision borne of feeling extreme pressure from many quarters, not just from her. But he'd since learned to recognize the feeling, and he was getting much better at facing the problem rather than looking elsewhere for some kind of relief.

"We started doing more and more together, but as friends." Hermione smiled at him. "He'd come to my work and bring me lunch."

"We'd take long walks around the neighborhood." Ron took her hand in his, threading his fingers with hers.

"Talk for hours." The past few months had been truly magical. She'd felt so calm, so at ease. Ron had been so patient with her as she mourned the end of her relationship with Viktor, never pressing her for more than she could give, always putting her needs before his own. He was also really good at making her laugh. Whenever she had a rough day—or rough week, rough hour, whatever—he always tried to make her laugh. And even though that certainly didn't solve the problems, it made them feel more manageable. Plus, she knew he was on her side, no matter what.

hr/

"We started dating in April, got engaged in November, and married in June." Hermione smiled fondly at the memories.

Rose was quiet and still, then she rolled onto her back and looked at her mother. "I'm glad daddy apologized. Did he ever do anything like that again? Is that why you got divorced?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Oh, no, darling. Not at all. Your father never did anything like that again. It was an exception to his character. A one-time thing. Everyone makes mistakes, and I firmly believe in second chances."

"I still want to hear how you got engaged." Rose yawned.

"It was very sweet. He knew that I didn't want anything big. Viktor had gone all out, taking me out to dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by an elaborate proposal. Your daddy took me to dinner, but he didn't make a big fuss of it. Then we went for a walk in London, which we liked to do, and when we got to a park that we loved, he surprised me by asking me to marry him. I said yes." The memory was bittersweet. "We got married eight months later."

"You loved him?"

"Oh, yes, very much so. He was absolutely the one for me when we started dating." Hermione smiled to herself. Ron had been exactly what she'd needed right then, but she'd gotten so caught up in the romance of it all, the familiarity of Ron and his family, the way it was easy to be with him, that she hadn't considered what was best for all of her. It turned out Ron wasn't ambitious and didn't especially want her to be. He was content with an easy life, but Hermione wanted more, wanted to give more of herself. Ron was a wonderful person and father, but he didn't connect with her on many levels.

Rose had a very puzzled look on her face that morphed into a frown after a few moments. "Hold on, Mum. I heard an awful lot about Luke, whom you didn't even actually date, Joey, and Elliot, but Mark—I mean, daddy—was only at the beginning a little and at the end."

Hermione laid down beside Rose and gazed up at the ceiling. "That's true. But, I didn't really delve too deeply into my friendships during each story. However, your father was there through the rest of them, like Harry, Ginny, and so many others. Joey was my first serious boyfriend after your daddy, and it was thanks to Joey that your daddy and I started talking again. That was so nice. We'd been friends since our first year at Hogwarts, and I truly missed him as a friend. That's partly how I feel now. I know we are divorced, but I'm looking forward to having my friend back."

"I do think you started to get on better once you moved here. Away from daddy." Rose tapped her chin contemplatively. "And he seems more relaxed around you. So you two were better off as friends?"

"I think so. We'll always be great friends, and we share the most precious treasure possible."

"Me."

"Yes."

"So you and Daddy became friends again while you were with Joey. What about Elliot?"

Hermione chuckled. "Well, now, there was some history there. In our fourth year at Hogwarts, Elliot showed interest in me, and it made your father furious, only he never would admit why. He claimed all sorts of other reasons for the animosity he felt toward him. And then over the next few years, his jealousy continued to show whenever I talked about Elliot. Our friendship was strained while I was with Elliot, but once we'd been together for a year, your daddy decided to stop acting like such a jealous tosser. He apologized and reached out to me, and our friendship was the strongest it had ever been. He was perfectly positioned to find his way into my heart when Elliot and I broke up."

"It's too bad Elliot is married now. It really seemed like you loved him." Rose yawned.

"You're right, I did. But the truth is, what happened with us was for the best. I haven't had any feelings for him since I started dating your father. Even if he weren't married now, I would never leave England and move to where he is. You are here, and nothing could entice me to move so far away, and I'm fairly certain he feels the same way. I hear he's very happy." Viktor and his wife had four children, and they were always out and about together. His smile in his photographs was genuine, with not a single hint to indicate that he wasn't blissfully happy.

Rose nodded. "I understand. And what about Joey? Is he married?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Joey has been married no less than three times. He's currently on wife number three. This one has lasted longer than the others, so maybe it will end up working out."

Rose's eyes widened. "I guess you dodged one there, huh, Mum?"

"I think you're right." She wondered if Rose would mention Luke and hoped she wouldn't. Just the thought of him was enough to send her heart racing, and she didn't know what she would answer if Rose asked about him.

But she only yawned and settled further under the covers. "Thanks, Mum. You're a great mum. And Dad is a great dad. I hope you both end up with someone amazing."

"Thank you. Your father is wonderful, and he'll make someone else very happy someday, I've no doubt about it." Rose's eyes were closed, and Hermione thought she would drift off to sleep. She started to get up, but then Rose looked at her.

"Oh, Mum. I want to know what your great ambition is. There had to be something you had in mind."

Hermione chuckled to herself. "Ah, yes, well. That particular dream seems a bit silly now."

"I still want to know. Will you tell me? Please?" Rose gave her her best pleading puppy dog eyes.

"Alright. I'll tell. I had it in my head that I wanted to be Minister of Magic." She cringed slightly at hearing the words, something she'd hadn't spoken aloud in a very long time, not since she'd dated Ron the first time. She expected Rose to laugh, but instead, her daughter's eyes went wide.

"Really? Mum, I think you'd be brilliant!"

"You think so?" Hermione gave her a skeptical look.

"Yes! You care so much about people, and magical creatures, and everyone says you're brilliant. It would be really neat if you became Minister!" Rose's eyes were shining.

"Well, it would require really joining the workforce at the Ministry, and not in my current position. I'd have to learn all kinds of new things, make connections with people who have influence..."

"Sounds like just the kind of thing you'd enjoy." Rose smirked. "I think those little plots you do with Aunt Pansy and Uncle George aren't quite enough, don't you agree?"

Hermione laughed. "Oh really? Well, I'm glad to know I have your support."

"I think you'd do really great things for people, and help them, like I always see you doing for your friends or random people we meet when we're out." Rose's expression was so earnest, her words so sincere, that Hermione felt a bit misty-eyed.

"Thank you, my love. I believe it's bedtime now. Are you all packed for the Burrow this weekend?" She located Rose's suitcase against the wall, open and half-filled.

Rose grinned sheepishly. "Well, I'm close? I can finish in the morning."

"See that you do. I'll take it over to your father tomorrow." After making sure it contained everything she would need, of course.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Just like you do every other weekend. I know how this works, Mum. We've been doing it for months."

Hermione stood and tucked Rose in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, darling. Sleep well!"

After closing Rose's door, Hermione went back to the kitchen. It was late, far past Rose's bedtime. Hopefully it wouldn't have too much impact on her tomorrow. Hermione poured herself a glass of wine and pulled out the journal she'd started earlier.

She wondered what her future held—if she would struggle to find someone else, if she would decide to follow her dream of becoming Minister in order to help people. Would anyone even be interested in her at all?

Without meaning to, she thought of Draco. The way she'd felt upon seeing him the day before was something she hadn't experienced in a very long time. When their eyes met, she felt her entire world shift. But of course, it hadn't meant anything to him. It hasn't even been a rare occurrence; they'd been in each other's presence hundreds of times over the years. No, the only difference was with her.

Somehow she was attracted to him again, after almost fifteen years since their one heated kiss.

As she drifted off to sleep that night, Hermione shed a few frustrated tears. Honestly, as delightful as these flutterings of attraction felt, they were futile, and she didn't want her first fancy after Ron to be a dead end. Draco Malfoy was not an option, and the sooner her heart got the message, the better.