Author's Note: This little piece was written for Draco's Birthday! I'm thinking it'll be about four or five chapters, but it's not prewritten, so I can't give an update schedule. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Draco stood in the Manor library, gazing out the large window that took up most of the rear wall, watching the sun rise in the distance.

Forty.

Where the fuck had the time gone? How was he forty now?

Thinking back on his life, these were the titles he'd given himself.

Slytherin Seeker at twelve.

Assassin and Death Eater at sixteen.

Survivor at seventeen.

Auror at twenty-one.

Husband at twenty-three.

Father at twenty-five.

Widower at thirty-nine.

He wondered what this year would bring, especially since he was starting to move past the grief of losing Astoria. Before she'd died, she'd told him to move on with his life, to find happiness again. It had been nearly impossible to imagine that while she was still alive, but he was beginning to see her point.

He had decades left to live, and Scorpius was already fourteen. Before Draco knew it, his son would be through with Hogwarts and starting to make his own path in the world. He'd likely leave the Manor permanently, and who the fuck needed this much space for one person?

With a sigh, he ran his hand through his fringe, pushing it back off his face.

Forty would be a year to make changes, that much he knew.

When Draco arrived in the DMLE that morning, he found an envelope stamped with the Minister of Magic's seal on his desk. His brows raised at it; he'd not done anything to earn the Minister's ire, he was sure of that. In fact, he got on quite well with her now. She'd consulted him on more than one occasion, using his expertise with dark artifacts to her advantage.

He broke the seal and withdrew a small card.

Auror Malfoy,

Wishing you a very happy birthday.

If you are so inclined, please join me for lunch today.

Please let me know by return memo.

- Hermione Granger, Minister of Magic

"Lunch?" he mumbled to himself. "Why would Granger want to invite me to lunch?"

In his mind, he started scrutinizing every single interaction they'd had in the past year. They had all been pleasant, their former animosity left in the past after the war. No, every single conversation or run-in had definitely left him with a smile on his face.

And she'd always been smiling, too—a genuine smile, one that lit up the whole room for the first time in years.

Yes, Hermione Granger was looking quite lovely these days.

Being in control suited her; she'd always been bossy and a know-it-all. Now, it was her job to rule over the wizarding world and have all the answers. Honestly, in his opinion, there was no one better for the job.

She was also newly single.

After nearly twenty years of marriage to Ron Weasley, she'd called it quits right after she took office. Many called her cold and calculating, saying she'd stayed married just to win the election, but Draco knew better. She hadn't wanted to hurt her husband. She loved him, but she wasn't in love with him. As many had, she'd married quickly after the war, falling into a marriage that was built solely on friendship rather than compatibility.

In fact, he could imagine her struggling with the decision to leave for years before she'd actually worked up the nerve to do it.

Again, he started wondering what made the Minister of Magic invite him to lunch on his birthday. And then he started wondering if she simply sent a note like this to everyone in the Ministry or if he was somehow special.

Regardless, he didn't have any other plans, so he did something that his twelve-year-old self would have been mortified by.

He sent her a note, stating that he'd love to have lunch with her and asking what time suited her schedule.

Folding it into an origami flower, he stared at it, realising just how excited he was by the prospect of simply sharing a meal with her.

Would she find the flower ridiculous? Should he change it back to a simple rectangle?

Before he could argue with himself, he charmed the flower to head to the Minister's office, hoping that the silly little paper would make her smile that genuine, bright smile.

About thirty minutes later, a paper crane landed gracefully on his desk, flapping its wings in front of him. She was showing off — of course she was — and it made him laugh. When he picked up the crane, it unfolded itself.

See you at 12:30. My office.

I'll make sure there's dessert to celebrate with.

HG

Draco, unable to resist, responded again, letting her know that he preferred chocolate to all other kinds of desserts. He folded the note into another flower, imagining a tiny bouquet forming on her desk if he kept sending the notes over the next few weeks.

He couldn't fathom why he'd keep writing to her, but it made him happy to think about the way she might look at the flowers during a meeting or paperwork and smile for just a moment.

It was unusual, but he found himself looking forward to spending his lunch hour with Hermione Granger.

Forty was already bringing some surprises.

At a quarter past twelve, he stood from his desk and started towards the lift. He didn't want to keep the Minister waiting, after all. Also, he imagined she was the kind of woman who considered 'on time' to be late.

When he approached her secretary, the younger witch smiled at him. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure you're here for your lunch appointment?"

"I am," Draco confirmed. "Where shall I wait?"

"No need to wait. Her last meeting wrapped up early. You can go right in," the girl said with a grin.

"Right. Thanks so much…" he trailed off, not knowing her name.

"Amelia," she offered. "Amelia Fawley."

"Nice to meet you, Amelia."

Waving him towards the Minister's office, she said, "And Happy Birthday, Mr. Malfoy."

He smirked. "Thank you."

As he reached the doorway, he nearly laughed. Granger was sitting at her desk, trying to fold another piece of paper into origami. Her curls had fallen from the clip they were restrained in and she looked frustrated as hell.

"How the fuck do people do this without magic?" she muttered to herself, clearly unaware that he was already standing there.

Watching her, Draco chewed on his cheek to stifle his laughter. After a moment, she gave up and levitated the paper over her rubbish bin before setting it on fire.

"Utterly ridiculous," she said.

He couldn't hold back anymore. "Granger, burning things within the Ministry? Surely that's against the rules."

When she looked up, she flushed. "How long have you been standing there, exactly?"

"Since 'how the fuck do people do this without magic', I think," he replied.

Clearing her throat, she said, "I got a bit frustrated. I was trying to make something specific since it's your birthday and all, but apparently I've lost my touch."

Draco stepped fully into the office. "It's fine, Granger. No need to burn the building down on my account."

She blinked up at him. "All rooms in the Ministry are outfitted with—"

"Fire suppression charms, I know. No one was in any danger, except maybe you," he interrupted. "But I would've thrown caution to the wind to save you, Minister. I'm feeling quite Gryffindor these days."

When she laughed, the warmth of it radiated straight through into his body.

"That would definitely be very chivalrous of you," she began. "Why don't you sit down? I'm sure our lunch will be here soon."

Sinking down into one of the empty chairs in front of her desk, he met her eyes. "I was surprised to get your invitation, Minister Granger."

"Stop calling me Minister. We've known each other since we were eleven. I don't think we need to be that formal."

"What shall I call you then?"

She shrugged. "Granger. Or Hermione is also fine."

"I don't know if we're quite on a first name basis yet, Granger," he quipped. "I mean, it's like you said, we've known each other since we were eleven. That's almost thirty whole years."

"I know. I think we may need to wait til it's been fifty years," she responded, smirking.

Draco watched as she removed the clip and let her hair down. The curls were so much different than before, but they were still a bit wild. Granger's hands threaded through them quickly, pushing them behind her shoulders.

"So, did you have a particular reason for inviting me? Other than my birthday which you've never acknowledged before?" When she looked crestfallen, he felt like a prick. "Sorry, Granger, I didn't mean it like that. It was supposed to be a joke."

"It's alright. I can see why it would seem strange," she began. "I… It's hard to explain, really. Of course I knew it was your birthday, and I know how I felt in the autumn…"

Trying to make sense of what she was saying, Draco asked, "What about the autumn?"

"I separated from Ron when Rose and Hugo left for Hogwarts," she explained. "September first. My birthday—"

"Is also in September. I remember you were the earliest one in our class," he stated. "I don't remember the exact day."

"The nineteenth," she offered. "But, anyway, I remembered what it was like, and while I know it's not the same, I wanted to do something nice for you, to take your mind off things."

Draco swallowed. "That's very kind of you, Granger. I'll admit, it is still hard sometimes, but Astoria was so ill for the last few years… It honestly felt like I was alone most of the time."

He could see the sympathy in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy. That had to be incredibly hard. I know you loved her a lot."

"I did. And it was hard, but I still have Scorpius. This morning, I was thinking that this would be a year of changes for me," he stated. "Like selling the Manor. Or donating it. Or turning it into something else. I don't want to live there anymore."

"Your ancestors will be rolling in their graves," she replied.

"Well, I've got to talk to Scorp. He might want it for himself. It doesn't have the baggage for him like it does for me. I think I gave him a happy childhood there," Draco said. "But anyway, how did things go with you and Weasley? Are you in the house or is he?"

Granger sighed. "I've let him keep the house. He didn't want out—"

They were interrupted by Amelia carrying their lunch into the room. She set the takeaway bag down on the desk and said, "Can I get you two anything else, Minister?"

"No, I think we'll be perfectly fine, Amelia. Feel free to take your lunch now, as well," she answered.

The secretary left the room and Granger refocused on him. "Right, so I wasn't sure what you liked, but there should be a good variety in that bag. There is a salad in there for me, though."

Draco opened the bag and found an abundance of soups and sandwiches, along with Granger's salad. He reached for something that looked like chicken and avocado, opening the container and setting it on the desk. He passed her salad over to her.

"Right, so where was I?"

"You said Weasley didn't want to call it quits," he reminded her.

"No, he didn't," she replied, shaking her head. "I've pissed off the whole lot of them, unfortunately. But I couldn't stay unhappy like I was and do this job properly. If I had a row with Ron, I'd carry it here and behave horribly to everyone. I don't want to be a tyrant."

Nodding, he said, "That makes sense. Did you get Potter in the divorce since he got the house?"

Granger laughed again. "No, we share him, just like our children."

"Was there a custody battle?"

"No, not on either front, thank Merlin. Harry knew I'd been unhappy for a long time, so he wasn't really surprised. Same thing with the children."

When he finished chewing, he asked, "Why'd you wait so long if you were unhappy?"

"Honestly, I thought things were fine until about five years ago," she admitted, a blush rising to her cheeks. "And then I realised I'd…"

When she trailed off, Draco wondered what she was uncomfortable saying. "You'd what?"

"I'd never been truly happy. Sure, things were easy and I was content. And I love my children, but I never imagined that I'd be the type to settle for content," she replied. "Were you happy with Astoria?"

Draco nodded. "I really was. She was so different from the other pureblood girls. She was gentle and kind and wanted to get to know me, even after the war. She got me to open up, which is not something that Malfoys are supposed to do."

Laughing, Granger said, "According to your father?"

"And grandfather. And great-grandfather. It goes back ages." He paused, wondering if he should be entirely truthful with her. "We knew Astoria had the blood curse. We knew it might be exacerbated by pregnancy. I was perfectly fine with adopting, even though my parents were scandalized at the idea. But she insisted that she wanted to experience life fully and, in her eyes, that meant carrying a child."

"Oh, Malfoy, I'm so sorry."

Looking down at his lunch, he replied, "Don't be. I'd have given her anything she wanted. More children, an army of Pygmy Puffs, or all the gold in Gringotts. I would've found a way to get it for her."

"That's very sweet."

If Draco wasn't mistaken, she looked a bit wistful at his remarks, like no one would've been willing to do the same for her.

But that wasn't true — if anything, it was just her wanker of an ex-husband who didn't realise how lucky he was.

"I try," he joked, trying to lighten the mood. "So how are your kids doing with the divorce?"

"Well," she began, "they honestly haven't been around all that much. During the Christmas Holidays, I stayed at the house in the spare bedroom so we could all still be together. Ron, I think, was hoping that we'd reconcile while I was there, but that was never even a thought for me."

Draco nodded, gesturing for her to continue as he ate.

"Rose expected it, I think. She was cognizant that things were tense between us. Hugo wasn't since he's a bit younger, but I tried to explain that this was for the best," Granger continued. "I guess the true test will be the summer holidays. They'll be sharing time between my flat and the usual house. And of course Molly will likely bash me to them, so that won't be pleasant."

"That's just wrong," he said, unsure of what else would make sense.

Divorces weren't common among purebloods, so he wasn't shocked that the Weasleys would be upset by her decision.

She shrugged, pushing her salad around with her fork. "I think my children know me well enough to let what she says go in one ear and out the other, but you can never be certain."

Draco reached across the desk, gently grabbing her hand. The fork's movements stopped and she looked up at him.

"You're lonely and worried," he stated, matter-of-factly.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I am. And I'm sorry, this wasn't how I intended this lunch to go. I just thought that maybe… Fuck, I'm sorry."

"You thought what?"

"It's silly. Nevermind. Let's just talk about something else," she said, trying to redirect him. "Are you still a big Quidditch fan?"

Draco thought for a moment and decided not to press her. She was clearly upset, and the last thing he wanted to do was make the Minister of Magic cry over lunch.

"I am," he replied. "But I recall that you weren't really a fan."

"Oh, I enjoyed watching Gryffindor while we were at school. And now, I actually have box seats to all the games in the British-Irish league."

"Perk of the job?"

Granger smiled. "Indeed. So, as a birthday present, I'd like to offer you the tickets for a match of your choosing."

"A match of my choosing, you say?" he said with a smirk. "Well, Minister Granger, I do believe the Falcons are hosting the Tornadoes at home tonight. I'd love to go if you're free to accompany me."

She hesitated, clearly unsure of how to answer. Had he read the situation wrong? Was she genuinely offering him her tickets to use with someone else?

"I thought…" He trailed off, pausing to give her time to think. "I thought that maybe we could be alone together, you know? It's a Friday night. I'm sure you don't want to be here all night."

"Okay," Granger replied. "That's pretty much along the lines of what I was thinking earlier. Maybe we could be friends."

After the awkwardness faded, she started asking questions about Scorpius. It turned out that Rose had mentioned him quite frequently, much to her father's chagrin.

"You know, Granger, she sounds a bit like me," Draco offered. "I imagine I complained about you and Potter much the same way when I was her age."

"Do you honestly think I find that comforting?" she teased. "You were a prat as a teenager."

He laughed. "That's putting it mildly."

The more they talked about their children, the more her dark eyes sparkled and her face lit up. It sounded like her daughter was a shoe-in for Head Girl, excelling in both studies and Quidditch. When Draco asked who had taught her how to fly, stating that it couldn't have possibly been Ron Weasley, she just chuckled and said that Rose spent a lot of time with Ginny and Harry.

As their hour ended, she kept looking at the clock.

"Is my company that bad? Should I just go to the match alone tonight?" he joked.

Granger sighed. "I don't mean to be rude. I just have a very full schedule these days, and I don't want to fall behind. While everyone will wait on me, I seem to have plans tonight."

With a smile, he asked, "Do you know what time the match starts?"

"Seven p.m. And I'm making it my goal to be done by six so I can pop home to change out of these godforsaken robes."

"Where do you want to meet?"

"Oh, just Floo over," she said, grabbing a slip of parchment from her desk and writing down her address. "If I'm not visible when you come in, just wait in the sitting room."

"I'll be there at half six. Would it be easier for you if I arranged the Portkey this afternoon?"

Sighing in relief, she replied, "That would be amazing. One less thing for me to handle and I might even finish my day before six."

"It's not a problem, Granger." Rising from his seat, Draco brushed his trousers off, getting rid of any crumbs he may have dropped. "I'll see you tonight."

Nodding, she gave him a little wave. "Tonight."

"Oh." He paused in the doorway. "Make sure you wear something light blue. I'm assuming you have something since the color suits you."

He was almost certain she blushed at his last statement.

When he was almost back to his desk, he realised they hadn't even eaten the dessert she'd promised, too wrapped up in their conversation. He'd have to collect on that another time.