Hermione sat on her living room floor with her long brunette tendrils haphazardly pinned into a messy bun atop her head. The woman was softly humming the background music to Ben Holly's Little Kingdom as the Narrator spoke, little Rosie sitting in between her crossed legs as she brushed her soft strawberry blonde locks. She was preparing her little tot in a pretty yellow sundress with pink flowers and was about to pin her hair into two little buns. Hugo was sitting next to them, quietly playing with a little play book with pictures of animals in it, his little finger poking each one to examine it in his own way. There was a faint crack a few rooms away, drawing the attention of the three.
"Hello, 'Mione," came from the other room, Ron was searching for her throughout the house. At the sound of the telly, the tall red-head stepped in from the corridor with a small awkward smile pulled to the side. "Hey."
"Hey," Hermione returned in a soft mutter. Rose was pushing herself out of her little nest, a large grin raising her rosy cheeks. She darted to her father, throwing her arms around his legs.
"Daddy!" Rosie cheered before he leaned over, picking her up and kissing her cheeks. Her arms were around his neck, squeezing him in a tight hug before kissing his cheeks too.
"Hello, baby girl," Ron greeted the excited child, lightly flicking her nose with a wider smile than before. "Have you been good lately?"
"Yes," she promised with a quick nod, her little buns bobbing away. The twin balls of hair made the wizard snort, squeezing her to him. "We go to the park?"
"Is that what you want to do today?" He questioned, setting the almost four year old back on her feet, letting her run off to grab her shoes as she sang about going to the park. "Is that the dress we got her?"
"Yes, she dressed herself today. So, you better mention it to her or she'll be disappointed you haven't noticed," the woman still sitting on the floor confirmed with a nod, her own bun bobbing with her. Ron had wandered over, picking the baby up before offering his hand to help her stand, raising a brow at how much firmer her grip had become.
"Has your training been going well?" He asked, planting a kiss on Hugo's temple as he still played with his book. His eyes swiftly observed her outfit, a pair of her yoga pants and a sports tank. She must have just come back from the Ferret's, he noted to himself.
"It's been fairly productive," Hermione replied, shoulders nonchalantly shrugging, her head tilting towards one of them. "I'm able to successfully land a hit on him about 65 percent of the time, if you don't count my cheap shots."
"That's the witch I know," Ron chuckled, his lips twitching upwards at the thought of Malfoy being clocked in the face by her. "So, what were you wanting to do for their birthdays? I know Rosie has been obsessed with that show lately."
"Yeah, I was thinking making it the theme for her party," Hermione nodded as she agreed. Her hand reached up, pushing Hugo's bangs from his forehead. "For now, Hugo is happy with his little books."
"Takes right after his mummy, huh," the red-head muttered to the child, gently poking his nose. His eyes glanced back to the witch, his lips pulling to the side. "So, I think we should have lunch sometime."
"Hm, Rosie has been wanting us to go the park together," she affirmed, nodding in agreement. Hermione wanted her children to have the view of what a healthy partnership was. Ron chuckled, lightly shaking his head.
"No, no, 'Mione," he began with a hint of amusement, "I mean us, woman."
"Oh?" The witch tilted her head, her voice taking on a curious inclination. It had been at least a month since the two had actually sat down to have a conversation, it was normally like this when it concerned a certain blond healer. The two would argue—or fight twice now, and Ron would need to take some time to cool down before he came back, ready to actually talk, typically a lot longer than this.
"Yeah, I think we need to talk things through," Ron sighed out, looking off to the side awkwardly. He wasn't very good at that sort of thing—talking and sharing his feelings. It was easy with Anita, she could always get him to where he wanted to be within his thoughts, getting him to spill exactly what he wanted to say.
"Hm, I will have to see when I have availability," Hermione said in thought. "I have a few meet and greets scheduled this month and Draco has a pretty strict schedule planned during my campaign period. He doesn't want me having any unnecessary exposure to the public until I take office, where I can get a full-time security detail. Currently, it's just him, and Harry when he can, escorting me and the children places. Please, don't."
She cut him off quickly, knowing he was either going to badmouth Draco or tell her she needs to just drop her campaign. The witch had been working for a week straight coming up with a suitable time-frame for campaigning, Draco helping her collect the availabilities of different patrons, himself, his mother, and the Wizengamot. Harry helped on that front as well, as he was an inside man after all. They had an optimistic attitude on her chance at becoming Minister—Kingsley was in favor of her decision to head their Ministry.
"We can talk about it all another time," the brunette assured him, she really didn't want to get into this right now. Ron sighed and merely nodded, you couldn't argue with her. Rosie came running back in, her shoes on the wrong feet, making the two snort and shake their heads at the little three year old. "Come here, silly. Your shoes are on wrong—you did a good job trying, though."
"Mummy, you go to the park?" Their sweet unknowing Rosie asked her with a broad smile, staring up at her expectantly. Hermione's shoulders slouched, a faint frown following after them. The woman glanced at Ron as she fixed the little girl's shoes. He sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
"No, sweetheart, mummy has a lot of work to do. How about next time I have free time we go together?" It wasn't a lie, she did have so much work to do concerning her campaign. This was Ron's day with them, however. So, the brunette wasn't going to make things worse for the children by mixing their time together—breakups were so much worse with kids involved.
"Come on, baby girl. Let's get going to the park," Ron told their little, trying to distract her from guilting her mother into tagging along. The brunette might not like it when she did. He hadn't introduced her to Anita just yet. The wizard wasn't exactly sure what he was waiting for. Rose eagerly nodded and ran to jump in her father's arm so they could leave.
"Have fun, you three," Hermione told them, kissing her littles before letting her husband take off with them and she head upstairs to quickly shower. She had a luncheon with Audry Niuss, one of the women on the Wizengamot panel.
"'Mione, I'm here!" Came traveling through her house in a bellow. Harry had arrived to escort her to her meeting. The brunette was finishing buttoning her burnt umber cropped dress jacket, completing the outfit it specifically went to, a matching high-waist skirt flowing a few millimeters past her knees, and a cream shoulder sleeved button up.
"I'm in the bathroom, Harry. I've just finished getting ready," she called out to him as she made sure there were no loose strands in the simple French twist she put her wild mane in. Her best friend popped in the doorway, leaning on one leg to peer around the frame.
"All set, then?" He inquired as his emeralds looked her over. "You look great, very sophisticated."
"Just need to slip my heels on and I'll be all set," Hermione bubbled out, her body feeling like it was a jittery mess. She was so nervous to talk to this woman she barely knew through court sessions she had to be present at in the past. The witch flitted down the stairs, casting an Accio on her shoes as she reached the end. After slipping them on, she sighed and nodded curtly, "Okay, let's go."
"Right," Harry agreed before looping an arm around hers and Apparating to their meeting spot. Hermione glanced up despite the overbearing rays, they were at a lake she realized. Several docks line a pier with different sized boats. "You will love Audry, 'Mione. She and Ginny come out here quite a bit."
"How have you become so close to her?" Hermione quizzed with a tilt of her head. She suddenly wished Harry would have told her they were going to be on a boat. These men were so clueless sometimes.
"Last Christmas, during the company party, she wandered over where Ginny and I were sitting and introduced herself. She is really easy to get along with," he explained as they came up to a dock with a woman in khaki shorts and moss green tank top and simple tan Sperry's. Hermione turned to Harry with her fist on her hip.
"I ought to do what Voldemort couldn't and end you, Harry Potter," she quietly bristled. The witch opened her matching clasp purse and pulled out a pair of forest green shorts to change into, casting him a pointed glare. She turned back around to greet the tanned witch waiting for them as she sat in the sun.
"Hello! You must be Hermione Granger!" The blonde woman grinned, showing of a set of perfect teeth as she hopped up to introduce herself. Her hand extended to take the brunette's hand and held it as a man would before inclining her head. "I'm Audry Niuss. I have read quite a few of your publications. I must say, I am a big fan of your work, Miss Granger."
"Oh, well, thank you, Miss Niuss," Hermione nearly squeaked out, not having been expecting that at all. Audry was swiftly lifting herself onto the boat with no effort at all before leaning over to offer a hand to help her up. The witch looked around before toeing her heels off and slipping her shorts on underneath her skirt and letting the covering drop to the dock. Harry snorted as he shook his head.
"Why do you have shorts in your purse, 'Mione?" He asked with a chuckle.
"In case my best friend lets me go to the lake dressed like a silly priss," she supplied as she was unbuttoning her jacket and tossing it to the side, cocking her head at him with raised brows before jumping to grab at the silver grip bars and easily pulling herself up. "Thank you for the offer to help, Miss Niuss."
"No problem," Audry said within a beam and a nod. It seemed she had not expected for the witch to drop her skirt and be able to hoist herself up on to the platform. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes before lifting himself up. Their hostess was pulling at the rope that tied the vessel off after casting a wandless charm towards it. She went to the captain's seat to start the engine and, gradually steered them away from the docks, being sure not to cause any wakes.
"Harry says you have been training in hand-to-hand," the blonde witch noted aloud, shouting over the motor. Hermione nodded as she took a seat in the swiveling chair next to her.
"Yes, the campaign I put on hold for now has not been viewed in a very open light," she called out with a pulling of her lips. The woman nodded, her hands tentatively turning the wheel back and forth as she watched the horizon and glanced about the sides here and there.
"I imagine not. I feel there are more people looking for the change than you realize, however," Audry informed her, flashing her a cheeky smile of reassurance. Hermione gave her a small smile, hoping that was true, but not banking on it. "I personally love what you're trying to do. I have a few mates who are muggle and I would love to share my world with them.
"We go to matches for their games, football and rugby quite often," the blonde said just before picking up speed. "It would be great to share my sport with them. I think they would love Quidditch. Don't get me wrong, they would be completely freaked out at first, but they would get over it pretty quickly, I think."
"So, Harry has gone over my Muggle and Magical-Folk Accordance with you?" Hermione asked, earning a nod from her. "And what do you think of it?"
"I think it's bloody brilliant," Audry opined, "however, I think the tattoo oath is a bit off-putting."
"Yes, I agree," the brunette informed her, nodding her head as she leaned back against her chair. "My other thoughts were rings or bracelets. I don't like the idea of forcing anyone be branded at all, but it really can't be helped. I thought with a discreet tattoo somewhere, at least it can be hidden."
"That's true," the woman replied, slowing the boat down and letting it drift. They apparently were having lunch on the lake. It was actually rather nice, the quiet of the waves lapping against the sides was quite soothing. Hermione silently eyed the witch across from her, she seemed like quite the sporty kind of woman. "I know Shacklebolt is vying for you—so, he must have faith this is a position you would be able to handle.
"Honestly, I'm not sure why anyone would be against Hermione Granger," the blonde went on before sipping on a bottled water. "You have been pushing policies and programs out year after year since the war officially ended in '92. It would be different if they were trivial changes, but they're groundbreaking. That is exactly the kind of change I want in our Ministry. Honestly, I just wanted to meet you and talk to you personally before an official meeting with more members of the panel."
"Well, thank you, Miss Niuss," Hermione muttered, shyly looking down at the veggies she had been picking at. She hadn't expected to meet such a welcoming supporter at this little meeting. The witch and Harry waved to the woman before they walked toward the Apparation point after docking and helping her tie the boat off. A few days, later she would be meeting with another panel member. She would be sure to ask Draco if it had anything to do with a boat at all first.
Draco sat at his dining room table, listening to Scorpius mumble the theme song to Dinosaur Train while he laid on the floor playing with his cars. The healer had an entire stack of papers he was reading through—letters from his staff concerning his announcement that he was contemplating publicly supporting his witch. His eyes drifted from Margaret Sommers' notif, keeping an eye on the time. Last week, he knew the witch went to a meeting, one that ended up being rather peculiar. This week, he would be escorting her to a meeting with Oliver Blake, another Wizengamot panel member.
"Daddy!" Scorp suddenly exclaimed, scrambling up to his feet to hop around while making a roaring sound. Draco glanced over to the four year old with a cocked brow.
"Yes, monster," he prompted him to continue, a laugh huffing through his nose.
"How T'ain You D'agon," his little replied excitedly. "Wanna watch it!"
"Yes, yes, I know. It's not out yet, Scorp," Draco told his copy, continuing to read. Miss Sommers ended up being an excellent addition to the Aceso team. Since, for now, she is only a receptionist, the young witch had taken a short five month course to teach her non-magical skill sets and knowledge she would need in order to work there permanently. She would need to continue her muggle schooling if she wanted to ever advance from receptionist, but she was really good at what she did.
Being the first face a visitor sees, she makes quite the cheerful first impression. It seemed Margaret was in favor of supporting both campaigns. Mary didn't even need to send one in, Draco knew exactly where her thoughts lie, she having a Muggle-born son-in-law and all that. There really weren't that many negative reactions, mostly questions about her qualifications for such a position and about her postponed campaign. Greys flickered up as a crack sounded throughout his living room, also catching the attention of a still roaring Scorpius.
"Mio, Mio! Take me see How T'ain You D'agon!" The toddler demanded as he ran to her, clinging to her hips. Hermione's hand sifted through his baby fine hair and chuckled before sitting Rose down.
"I'm sorry, sweetie, I would, but it isn't out yet. Next year, when you're five, we'll go see it, okay?" Scorpius groaned and retreated to play with Rosie in his playroom. The brunette smiled as the two trudged up the stairs. Hermione drifted over to the older blond sitting and reading through paperwork, her arms wrapping around his neck as she leaned against him, chirping out, "hi."
"Hi back, beautiful," Draco hummed, his hand going up to one of her smaller ones to kiss her palm. A timid sensation crept into his chest, making him chuckle to himself. He wasn't quite sure how she wasn't use to him calling her beautiful. She had to know she was. The wizard stacked his letters and charmed them away before calling Madam Danielle.
"Are you nervous?" He asked her as he turned in his chair to sit sideways. His hands were pulling her arms from him, guiding her to come around the chair and sit in his lap. She was wearing one of her jumpsuits, a forest green one. Slytherin green looked amazing on her.
"Just a little," was mumbled out, her voice becoming a sweet and shy wisp. The blond nodded in understanding, his hand rubbing her back to soothe her nerves. "You're not taking me on a boat, right? I could have killed Harry."
"No, no, Dea, we will not be going on a boat," Draco chuckled out, grinning at the cross look she shot him. "Although, I would not object to seeing you drenched in sunlight, your gorgeous body on display as you sprawl out on the bow."
"It's a shame neither of us own a boat," Hermione lamented in a sigh, her shoulders shrugging as her arms wrapped around his neck.
"I could fix that rather easily," he assured the beautiful witch in his lap. Her pretty hazels rolled to the side as her head shook. Draco's free hand went to her chin, shifting her head back to him, his thumb caressing her lips. "What do you think, sweetheart? We could take the kids out."
Wh—I—do you even know how to tend to a boat?" Hermione stammered out, stumbling over the pet name he'd just called her. She could already feel the blush rising to her cheeks, and the witch was sure he felt her elation as soon as he said it. That damned bond was always giving her away. The corners of his lips twitched, but he schooled himself, being aware that she was somewhat embarrassed and not wanting to make it worse on her.
"Why, in Salazar's name, would I suggest we take our children out in a boat and I not know how to handle it?" Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Alec has a sailboat, we use to go sailing about every weekend."
"Your mates sound great," was her reply. His hand glided to the back of her neck as she leaned into him, staring at him with those wide eyes of hers.
"They're the best," he corrected her. They really are. Draco had no clue what was going on while across the pond, at first. When they met during his first muggle course, the three assumed his confusion had to do with their cultural differences, and well, they weren't wrong. Their first problem with Draco was his attire—he dressed too much like a 'prep' or 'trust fund kid.'
Without even knowing who he was or what his background was, Benj, Alec, and Danny drug him out to a mall in Manhatten to shop, forcing him into some of the most ridiculous outfits he'd seen, but finally settling on just jeans, tees, and flannels. That's the kind of people they are, though—extreme social butterflies, something the blond wizard is not. If Draco had to label the three, he'd call them family, more like overwhelmingly annoying, but great brothers. Benji had been talking recently about a UK tour for their seminars. The three went from town to town in the colonies to teach people proper PT, a passion of Alec's.
"I'm glad you were able to meet friends while you were over there," Hermione told him before kissing his cheek.
" Meeting is a bit of a tamer word than what I'd describe our first encounter," Draco grimaced, the old feeling of sheer embarrassment and awkwardness flooding back into him. It had been terrible, but by the end of the day, back in his dorm, he couldn't help but smile. It had been the first time experiencing friends like that, and to think he'd never have met them if it weren't for his Dea speaking for him at his trial, defending him despite all the pain he had caused her, the pain he let happen to her. The blond took in a sudden breath, burying his face into the nape of her neck before mumbling into her skin, "I do not deserve you, Dea. Everything I have in my life, everything I've experienced—it's all thanks to you."
"I merely helped you out of a tough spot, you did everything yourself, Draco," she insisted, gently kneading her fingers into his hair. "I'd like to meet them someday—thank them for keeping you in line."
"Ugh, don't tell them that!" Draco was already imagining their cocky grins, knowing full well they were the ones that needed to be kept in line, but they would accept the credit from such a gorgeous being with no shame whatsoever. Danny was the most trouble out of the three and he would be the first to attempt to give her a hug and claim that's what friends did. "Benj has been talking about touring over here, and they know damn well they're not allowed to be in the country without coming to see their nephew. But we should be on our way."
"Yes, I suppose," she agreed, standing from his lap, leaving behind a frictionless void that he didn't want there. The two went to give the kids kisses and hugs before they were Apparating to the meeting point that was set up. Draco glanced over his Dea and her apparel, she was wearing sleeves again, hiding away her forearm, her strength. This meeting was only going to test that toughness of hers. Oliver Blake was a rather—unsavory sort.
"Good afternoon, sir," a man dressed in black dress robes politely greeted bowed to Draco as the two neared the stately members only parlor located in the back of a less regal restaurant. The blond simply nodded to the attendant, needlessly straightening the forest green tie he wore over a black vest to match his green undershirt. The attendant's eyes immediately took note of the ring he was wearing on his thumb, quickly opening the door for him and the witch at his side. "Enjoy your visit, sir."
"Thank you," Draco said before stepping into the parlor after allowing his Mistress to enter before him with a gesture of his arm, startling the man he knew must not be treated well at all where he was employed. "Follow me, Dea, he will be in the VIP section."
The former dark wizard led her through the dimmer, large room, skirting around tables of the patrons quietly and curiously eyeing them. The scent of burnt tobacco and other questionable substances permeated in the air, making it stale and less desirable to breath. The whole scene made Draco think of one of those old Mafia movies Danny loves to watch, making him nearly scoff at how overdramatic this whole establishment was. He stopped at a raised platform, politely inclining his head at the rather rugged looking wizard with long wavy brunette hair that was tied back and a neatly groomed goatee and brows. Oliver Blake quirked a brow and gestured to the available seats across him.
"Young Malfoy, it has been some time," came out in a deep baritone as Draco guided Hermione to a seat, pulling it out for her. The younger wizard lowered himself in his chair, needlessly holding his tie back despite having a sterling silver snake shaped clip—a Christmas present from his adoring mother. "To what do I owe this visit?"
"Blake, I believe you have met my client, Hermione Granger-Weasley," Draco calmly stated, ignoring the way Blake's violet eyes had been gazing over the witch's body when she sat down. The older wizard's head shifted to the side as his brows quirked.
" Ah, yes, I have, I believe," Blake said, or rather purred was more accurate. A sudden rise of discomfort flooded through him —her discomfort. "The Merfolk case, I am certain it was when we met, young lady. It is a pleasure to see you again."
"Please, Mr. Blake, the pleasure is mine," Hermione falsely assured him, a small tug of her lips curling upwards. The witch was use to this dance, the hidden layers of disgust of her when she talked to certain people. With time, she learned to handle it, she learned to be a politician. "I had heard quite a few different stories that made me rather nervous to meet you during the trial, but most of them ended up being unwarranted. I thought you handled the case quite well, considering the information and evidence provided."
"Thank you, Mrs. Granger-Weasley," the brunet replied, an inclination of his head towards her. He was snapping his fingers a moment later and gesturing to a woman who stepped to the lounging area. "May I offer you a drink?"
"Yes, thank you," the witch affirmed before ordering a gin. Blake was sipping on his own drink, his eyes slowly roving over her.
"What can I do for you? I'm sure you haven't come to me for a social call, and with," the man paused, studying Draco for a split second, "an attendant."
"Mn," the brunette hummed, a wave of annoyance crashing into the blond wizard, "yes, Draco is a friend volunteering to accompany me to places where a lady should not be on her own."
"Such a shame," the man purred once more. He waved towards her idly, sending her a coy smirk. "Do continue, my dear."
"You have heard of my campaign, yes?" Hermione began, ignoring his remarks of disappointment. Blake simply nodded, prompting her to continue. "Well, I have decided to postpone it, and become Minister."
"So, the rumors are true," rumbled out in a condescending tone, a chuckle mixed within his words. There was quite an arrogant smirk on his lips. "The Wizarding World's very own courageous Muck Vein Sparrow is trying to rise as a fierce Phoenix."
" That will be enough, Blake," Draco warned, keeping his expression schooled with his mask of indifference. How dare he? Violets lazily drifted towards his own greys as he stared at the older wizard.
"Your father must be beside himself with disappointment, Young Malfoy," the brunet lowly surmised, his glass resting on his lips before his eyes drifted to the witch. Draco merely crossed an ankle over his knee as a brow rose.
"It would seem you and father have not talked in some time," he mused, a tone of surprise taking over his diction. "Father is actually highly supportive of Mrs. Granger-Weasley's vision. He is rather impressed by her determination."
"Hm," Blake hummed, his eyes not moving from Hermione. "It's a contrite sight to see those who do not know they are not the majority."
"It is indeed, isn't it?" Draco shot back, a sly smirk flickering onto his lips before disappearing. The blond stood, knowing there would be nothing more they could say to the old pureblood. He held his hand out for the witch next to him. "Shall I inform mother to leave your name off the list for the gala?"
"Narcissa is holding a gala?" Blake inquired, his voice peaking in interest. Hermione slipped her hand in Draco's and stood to her feet, her gaze meeting the older gentleman's.
"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy insists on it. She has told me it would be her best yet," the witch coolly replied before inclining her head towards him and turning to leave, but stopping to glance over her shoulder. "It's really a shame, Oliver, I had hoped to coax you into a discussion on my campaign during a dance. Have a good day."
"Have a good day, my dear," Blake returned, a low chuckle leaving his throat. Draco caught his eyes lowering much too far for his tastes before he looked back up at the young wizard. "I think I rather like her. Tell your mother I would be delighted to attend."
"Fantastic," the blond muttered, keeping the low growl out of his throat before bowing his head and turning on his heel to leave, swiftly catching up to his witch. Once they left the restaurant and were in the safe zone to Disapparate, Draco had them jumping and landing in his living room. His hand drifted up to her chin to have her head tilt back and make her look up at him. "You are not ever to be alone with that man, Dea."
"I hadn't planned on it," Hermione assured him, her own hand going to his chest to calm him. He still seemed quite worried she would be mysteriously whisked away by the shady wizard that had somehow landed him a cushy seat on the Wizengamot panel. "It will be a dance in the open, where you can see me, Draco."
"You mean absolutely everything to me, witch," Draco's features softened as he spoke, his voice lowering to a mere rasp, "if I lost you, Hermione—"
"Don't worry, you impossible wizard," she sighed, soothing his chest and stepping up onto her toes to gently press her lips to his. "You won't be losing me. Now, what's this about your father?"
" Ah, right, yes," the blond stalled, clearing his throat and unwrapping his arms that had somehow found their way snaked around the beautiful witch's body. "I hope you don't mind, but mother and I have talked to father about your campaigns, and, well, he's actually supportive of them."
"Is that so?" The brunette questioned, dubiously eyeing him with narrowed eyes. Draco swallowed the lump that was in the back of his throat, glancing off to the side. He had been nervous to talk to her about his father, afraid he'd throw her into an episode.
"Yes, he thinks it is the right direction to go. See, father, he had always been of the mindset that magic should stay with those that are magical. However, he never taught me that those without it deserved to—they didn't deserve to die," he paused for a moment, clearing his throat as he felt his throat was constricting, "that was the Dark Lord's teachings. Growing up, Father had always talked about muggles as those more unfortunate than us, like a prince looking down at the pauper. It had started out as a deep misunderstanding on his part.
"However, I do know he was wrong to stay oblivious and just go with what he was taught," Draco's eyes drifted to hazels, his lips dropping into a frown, "same as me."
"Oh, no," the brunette muttered, putting a finger to his lips. "None of that. We have talked about this, Draco—it's time to move on. You have more than made those years up to me. Why didn't you tell me about your father?"
"I was afraid the mention of him would send you into a spiral," he sighed out against the finger that was still resting on his lips. Hermione's lips pulled to the side, her shoulders slouching at the truth of it. It was hard telling what would trigger her sometimes and if it would be that bad of an attack. It was a few years ago when the witch realized she had PTSD episodes, however, she hadn't realized there was a specific name for what happened. She'd been in the record's room, where she seemed to always be.
It was a couple years after she transferred from Creatures when she found herself balled up, hugging her knees and heaving for as much air as she could take in. It was the prison reform campaign that Shacklebolt was pushing. Along with the reform, Hermione thought a redemption—or rehabilitation program should be put in place, one that would give those who genuinely felt remorse for the wrongs they've done. Depending on their crime, there were different levels of rehabilitation. Previous Death Eaters, they tended to get the highest level, of course, leaving them without a wand and on house arrest and having to go through certain courses—muggle courses to be specific.
"I-I would like to speak with him," she suddenly told him, making his brows rise in concession and greys blink a couple times.
"I—are you sure?" Draco quizzed, wanting her to be absolutely positive it's what she wanted to do. The witch nodded curtly, casting a firm resolution through him. "I suppose we could visit them—let me get the runt, he'll keep things more at ease. Do you want to take Rose to Weasley—she is more than welcome to come, I just figured you wouldn't want her there just yet."
"Yes, I think so," Hermione replied after a few moments. She carefully pushed herself upright, reluctantly forcing herself to stop leaning against the firm wizard to head up to the playroom where the children were colouring large bubbled letters in—they were learning the alphabet. "Rosie, it's time to say goodbye to Scorp."
"I wanna play!" Rose pouted, her little lip jutting out as her brows furrowed. "Mummy, you go 'way too long."
"Oh, I know, sweetie," the brunette said through a heavy sigh, her shoulders slouching. Hermione was afraid of this, that her little girl would begin to realize she wasn't in her life as much as she use to be. She worked a lot before, but the kids were around both of them everyday, they hadn't ever gone a day without seeing either one. Her hazels watched as her little stood and mumbled 'bye, bye, Scorp' and crossed her arms.
"Wanna go wif 'Nita to park," she grumbled, looking at the floor. Hermione frowned and nodded before scooping her daughter up.
"All right, love, I'll tell daddy you want to go play with your friends," she promised, smoothing her wavy locks as she kissed her temple. Draco drew in a sharp breath, letting the woman walk past him. He knew exactly who her daughter was talking about and she wasn't simply a friend at the park. Being at odds with himself on whether or not he should tell her, the wizard followed after the two with his own little in his arms. She turned and pecked him on the cheek in the living room, informing him, "I'll drop her off to Ron and meet you at your parents."
"All right, Dea," Draco agreed, returning her kiss before being shoved out of the way for Scorpius to hug her.
"Move, daddy! See you later, Mio," his little threw his arms around her neck and pecked her cheek, performing the same action to Rose. "Smile, Rose."
"Okay, Scorp," Rosie giggled, a small smile showing on her face as she hugged him back. "Bye, bye, D'aco."
"See you later, rosebud," Draco said as he ruffled her hair, Apparating a moment later after cueing Scorp to hold his breath.
Hermione was Apparating a moment after, landing in the Burrow kitchen. There didn't seem to be anyone around. Molly had her kitchen accessories charmed to clean for themselves as she busied herself somewhere else with more cleaning, she was sure. She missed the Burrow, it had always been home for her and Harry when they were younger and when she and Ron had become a couple. It felt different now, however.
"Oh! Hermione, dear," came from the kitchen doorway leading to the corridor. Molly had shuffled her way into the room, investigating the sound of Apparation that must have sounded through the house. Hermione felt her shoulders relaxing at the sight of the older witch. It was the biggest relief that Molly was who she was, forgiving and always so understanding. She hadn't given Hermione any grief while she and Ron were separated.
"Hello, Molly, is Ron in?" She questioned, letting the squirming tot in her arms down to run to her grandmother. "Rosie wants to go to the park to play with her friends. I still have some meetings to tend to."
"He isn't home at the moment, but he should be in awhile," her mother-in-law supplied, eyeing her before advancing into the kitchen, Rosie following after her. "Come, have a seat, love. You look like you need a sit."
"Thank you, Molly," the brunette relented and followed after her to the dining room table, pulling out a seat to lower herself into. A teacup with a sweet scented lavender steam appeared in front of her, inviting her to sip on its contents.
"Of, course, my dear. Tell me, what's on your mind?" The Weasley matriarch was always so intuitive, able to pin when Hermione was feeling down. Perhaps she showed it too well, not able to hide her emotions well enough away—not like a Malfoy can.
"Honestly, Molly, a bit of everything," she admitted before sipping her tea. "Have you ever felt like a terrible mother?"
" Tsk, well, of course, love," she tutted out, a nod making her fraying curls shift about as her lips thinned into a small understanding half smile. She and Ginny had the same smile sometimes. "I have had those days so often during my years of motherhood. I would ask myself if I'm even fit to be a mum. I wasn't able to provide the things my children wanted and it always made me feel so terrible."
"That's the way I feel now," Hermione mumbled, glancing at her near four year old as she munched on a fresh muffin. "She said I'm gone too long when we're together. I don't try to be. I try getting work done as soon as possible and coming back to them. Some days, it's much harder."
"I understand, dear, but you have to remember she's just a baby yet, and—"
"I not a baby, g'andma," Rose protested, her nose in the air and looking away from them. Hermione snorted as Molly chuckled.
"Oh, no, of course not. I'm sorry, sweetheart," the woman apologized with a sweet smile and nodded to the child. "She is a tot and it is going to take some time for her to understand that when you go away, it is to provide for her. It is a bit easier for her to forget, while she is here when Ron goes off to work. With all the grandchildren popping in, she has many distractions."
"I try taking her to play with Scorpius as much as possible. I think it is good for him as well. He is an only child and I can tell he gets pretty lonely," the younger woman prattled on, thinking of the younger blond. He was such a sweet boy, and so very intelligent.
"Ah, yes," Molly hummed out, her warm cinnamon eyes observing the brunette in front of her. "How is Draco doing?"
"Oh, he is doing just fine," Hermione offered, completely surprised by her inquiry. No one ever asked after him, which saddened her quite a bit—he had changed so much and deserved to be treated better. The older witch seemed to be studying her, trying to discover some answer to an unasked question.
"How long have the two of you been friends?" Molly kindly questioned, tilting her head curiously as she sipped her own tea. This woman was always so easy to talk to, she made the conversation feel light and warm. Hermione thought for a few minutes. She didn't quite know the answer to that.
"Technically, almost two years," she guessed aloud, "but we've talked on and off for quite a few. Just small talk really, it was a bit awkward at first."
"I imagine so," was gruffly spoken from behind her, making the witch slightly jump. After the meeting she'd just been in, her nerves were a bit on edge. She glanced over her shoulder to find Ron approaching the table. "Are you available for dinner tonight?"
"Hm," she hummed in thought, "I believe so."
"Want to go out tonight?" He boldly asked, taking a seat next to Rose. Hermione inwardly sighed. She knew this was going to come, but she was dreading it.
"I suppose," the brunette agreed before standing to leave off. She didn't want to leave Draco and his parents waiting long for her. "I'd better be off, I've a meeting to go to."
"No," her husband sighed out, picking up her teacup and taking a sip from it, "you don't. Harry thought I should have your schedule."
"All these bloody wizards," Hermione agitatedly mumbled to herself, before speaking louder, "it is a meeting of sorts—I'm meeting with Lucius today."
"What?" Ron choked out, staring at her like she had just told him giant spiders were in the garden eating all the gnomes. "'Mione, have you lost your bloody mind? Are you being coerced?"
" No, Ronald," Hermione sighed, a hand raising from her side and dropping. "I am told he has rehabilitated and I would like to see for myself."
"Do not remember—what is going on with you lately?" He questioned in a hushed tone. "Fine, the ferret, I get. He didn't actually commit any grave crimes during the war, but his father—he did!"
"Exactly, which is why I want to see if the rehabilitation program I pushed for actually did some good, or if it was for nothing," she calmly explained before she changed the subject, her arms folding over her chest. "Rosie said she wants to go to the park to play with her friends. I better get going, see you later tonight."
"Yeah, see you," he mumbled through a low rumble. The red-head supposed it made since why she would want to meet with the Malfoy patriarch. That woman was too damned compassionate. What if she went into one of her episodes? As badly as he didn't want to admit it, Malfoy would be there to keep an eye on her, a thought that had him mumbling, "stupid ferret."
Hermione landed in the travel room she remembered from before. It seemed less extravagant than their old Manor, less foreboding and terrifying. There were footsteps coming from down the corridor, making the woman freeze and wait for who was approaching. Relief washed through her when the pitters began to grow closer and sounded much smaller. Scorpius was coming to greet her, although barefoot.
"You here, Mio!" He exclaimed, grabbing her hand and dragging her forward. "You take so long."
"I'm sorry, sweetie," she giggled and followed after him as he led her down the corridor, past the tea room and farther down to a different room. The witch leaned over and picked him up. "Where are your shoes, Scorp?"
" Pfft, no shoes in playroom, silly," he grinned as they walked into the room, Hermione pausing to slip her shoes off at the behest of the little blond, "daddy! Mio here!"
"I see that, runt," Draco drawled out to his son with an eye roll and smile, "thank you, for going to greet her. You did a good job, Scorp."
"No, I want Mio," the little whined as his arms wrapped around Hermione's neck, refusing to go to his father's arms. A tsk left Draco's lips before flicking the boy's nose.
"Fine, you punk," he muttered at the four year old who stuck his tongue out at him. "Oh, no, that is where I draw the line, traitor. Excuse me, sweetheart."
The older blond was unwrapping the giggling child's arms from around her neck and the boy was suddenly no longer in her arms. Draco tossed Scorp over his shoulder and was retreating to the middle of the room that housed a rather over the top playground with a foam pit in the center. There was a screech before Scorpius was unceremoniously tossed in the middle of it. As Hermione ventured forward, she could see the little struggling against all the pieces of foam, huffing and grunting as he made his way back to the edge. Despite all the work he had just gone through, he was running off to climb up a slide.
"This makes me feel somewhat better," Hermione quietly told him, a small smile pulling at her lips. His head was tilted as he held a hair tie between his teeth and was pulling his locks back to fix them into place again.
"About being here?" He asked as his hands continued their task.
"Mn-mnm," she hummed out, shaking her head. "I was talking to Molly, that's what took so long to come over. I told her I try to bring Rosie to play with Scorpius so they both have someone to interact with and keep them distracted."
"And you worried that Scorp gets too lonely," Draco added for her with a short nod. His beautiful and understanding savior. She gave him a simple nod. "I love how caring you are, Dea."
"Draco, are you going to come visit with your mother, or are you going to stand there awestruck all evening?" Narcissa called over from a little pad on the floor. The sight was startling. The regal woman was poised on the floor as if it were normal. Next to her was her husband, sitting cross legged and watching Scorpius as he ran about.
"You know, that is a really difficult decision, mother," Draco called back to her, eyeing the witch in front of him. He really could stand there all day and night just caught by her, reveling in her beauty and mere existence. Hermione gave him a scolding look and he sighed before leading her to the sitting area, holding a hand out to help her lower herself to her knees before sitting himself. "It seems the decision was made for me."
"It would seem I am old news," Narcissa sniffed, a delicate brow rising as she looked from her son with pursed lips. The woman's hand lifted to gracefully gesture towards Hermione. "A young, beautiful witch comes along and I am simply forgotten."
"Nonsense, woman," he gently scolded her, scoffing at the notion that he could ever forget his mother. "There is not a world where I ever forget you, mother. Now, father, I would like for you to meet Hermione Granger —no, I only call you that when it is official business."
"Hmph," Hermione rose a brow and gave him a disapproving look before she slyly continued, "it is official business, Healer Malfoy. Your father was apart if my rehabilitation program and as the founder of it, it is imperative that I speak with him as such."
"You taxing witch," Draco sighed out with a groan. His eyes rolled before he was reintroducing her, "Father, I would like for you to meet Hermione Granger- Weasley."
" Thank you," the brunette chirped happily before looking at the rose gold watch on her wrist. " Oh, would you look at that, it seems my office hours have just ended."
"You crafty, little minx," the younger blond growled out, setting his narrowed gaze on her. His witch sat there with her knees under her, looking just a graceful as his mother, an innocent expression on her features as she coyly glanced at him. Hermione stopped the giggle that was about to escape her lips as he mumbled under his breath.
"It seems you are able to keep my son in line rather well," Lucius noted, the hint of a chuckle on his lips. Hermione thinned her own, suddenly becoming nervous again. She forced herself to go through her breathing exercises, calming herself. "To complete the formality, I am Lucius Malfoy. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Granger-Weasley."
"I'm thinking of getting a boat, father," Draco spoke up, abruptly interrupting their conversation. He felt her nervousness spike, she needed a moment to collect herself. Lucius' eyes glanced to his son, receiving a silent 'give her a moment.'
"Is that so?" He questioned, his voice inclining. "One of your friends own a boat, correct? Will you be going with the same kind?"
"Most likely, it's what I know," the younger Malfoy confirmed with a nonchalant shrug. His hand went to the top of Hermione's bun before the backside grazed over the side of her head. "We were thinking of taking the kids out before summer ends."
"That sounds delightful," Narcissa commented, perking up at the topic. "It has been some time since we've been to the beach, darling."
"It has, Cissa" the Malfoy patriarch agreed with a simple nod.
"Y-you could come out," Hermione quietly began, feeling awkward, her eyes shifting from the two, feeling more than self-conscious, "with us. On the boat, I mean."
"That's kind of you, Mrs. Granger-Weasley," Lucius told her, inclining his head, "unfortunately, we will have to decline your offer."
"Oh—okay. I-I didn't mean to be so forward," the younger witch lowly muttered, biting the inside of her lip. Draco put a tentative hand on hers just as Lucius spoke again.
"You are just fine," he assured her, holding a hand up to stop her from receding into her head. "Cissa has a—slight fear of open water."
"Oh—oh, I'm so sorry, Narcissa," Hermione quickly apologized for reminding the woman of her fear. Narcissa merely cast her a warm smile, waving her hand as nonchalantly as Narcissa Malfoy could.
"Don't fret over it, dear," she insisted, "I can accompany you all to the beach. Before, it was difficult to even look at large masses of water. However, I am slowly recovering how I was before the war."
"I'll explain to you another time, Dea," Draco whispered to the brunette that had developed a confused and almost reluctant expression. "Father had a few questions about your MMFA campaign."
"Oh?" Hermione chirped, breezing over the awkward moment to what she knew. "What would you like to know?"
"Do you have candidates in mind for your pilot program?" The older blond inquired curiously. The brunette beamed excitedly with an eager nod.
" Yes, of course!" She affirmed, conjuring a portfolio containing her program's outline. No one has ever asked her about her candidates before and she was more than willing to share the information. "Now, naturally, they have not been approached as of yet, but when it is time, I am positive they will be more than willing to sign on."
"Your work is always remarkable," Lucius opined through a mumble, his focus on reading the outline in his hands. Always remarkable , the witch thought to herself, blinking like an owl, she was sure. The wizard next to her had said he was supportive of her work, how much of her work? She was far too embarrassed to ask him. "Your Muggle-born Orientation program has done wonders, and has actually reached other school boards in different countries.
"Did you not realize that?" He quizzed when his icy greys glanced up at her and found a shocked expression on her features. The young woman simply shook her head. " Yes, it has even inspired orientations for students in general across the globe. Along with your House-Elf Welfare program."
"Granger tends to write her programs, makes sure they are properly enacted and in good hands before simply moving on to a new idea," Draco explained, clear amusement in his voice, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. Hermione's lips thinned as she looked to the side. Did she really do that? Gods that must look terrible on her.
"Hm," Lucius hummed with a bid to the side, in what seemed like an impressed manner. "If only everyone in the Ministry had your focus. Quite a lot more would be completed."
Hermione had found that Lucius had been part of the more stricter rehabilitation, which only made sense. His wand had been confiscated—and since he had been known as a wandless caster, a new tattoo was etched over his old mark, any and all right to his assets were revoked and transferred to Draco, assets that had remain untouched until his father was rehabilitated. It seemed the younger wizard had every faith that his father was redeemable, if his savior had any part of it, that is. He was given visitation rights to see his father, considering what his occupation and newly found lifestyle was. While visiting him, Draco talked about anything and everything muggle he could think of, his schooling, his friends, their family, the different hobbies he was developing, Scrabble in particular—the two played it often together.
The arrogant Malfoy patriarch had sought a future that had no sliver of a chance at even becoming a dream. Cruel twists of fate had him tumbling from the reality he had already had, thoroughly burning their world all around them. The three rose from the dust of the ashes, taking on a new form, a delicate hand helping them along the way. Hermione Granger-Weasley would never understand the gratitude their little family held for her. The brave lioness proudly stalked into the nest of snakes, effectively charming them.