Hello lovelies! Happy Thursday!

I meant to mention this in the A/N for the last chapter, but if anyone is curious about the letter Lily found, you can find it in chapter 83, and references to it are in chapter 168.

MOVING ON, I want to ask for forgiveness in advance since I don't know how this chapter will be received. It's a really important chapter, and I will ask that you forgive one of the characters for their rash words and behaviour, they aren't a bad person, but they overstep drastically.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think x

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me

I'll see you on Saturday lovelies x

Sunday, May 16th, 1999

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, UK

The Burrow

Hermione hadn't known what to expect when Pigwidgeon—Ron's hyperactive Scops Owl—soared into Potter Manor and landed on their Breakfast table yesterday morning. He'd almost landed in the platter of scrambled eggs. Hermione thought it odd that Ron would be owling her when he would normally floo, but quickly realised that the letter was from Arthur Weasley.

Errol, the Weasley's elderly grey owl, was having a hard time traversing great distances, so Ron had lent his owl to his parents over the past few months.

Harry had offered to buy them a new owl to let Errol retire peacefully, living the remainder of his days in the land surrounding the Weasley's home. Molly had dismissed the idea outright, telling Harry that she wouldn't have him waste his money unnecessarily.

Arthur had invited the occupants of Potter Manor to Sunday family dinner at the Burrow. He expressed his excitement over both their clans being properly reunited, and apologised profusely that they hadn't organised an official get-together until now.

Arthur and Molly had been invited to Sirius and Riley's wedding, but apparently Molly had been feeling peaky and thus the couple was unable to attend. Sirius hadn't had time to invite the rest of the Weasleys, as the whole thing had been thrown together in two days.

Hermione had seen Arthur weeks ago, and he hadn't treated her any differently than before. He acknowledged that she was different, but his behaviour was affectionately paternal as always. Hermione feared that wouldn't be the case with Molly.

Hermione's hand slipped into Draco's as the pack members gathered on the Burrow's front lawn. The sun was almost finishing setting; the last remnants of brilliant, warm sunlight bathed the front of the house and lawn.

The Burrow had been rebuilt since the war with the aid of magic. It was the exact same as before. As if it had once been a large stone pigpen with extra rooms added here and there as needed, and they piled several stories high. The structure was so crooked at the top that it disobeyed the laws of physics, and would have toppled if not reinforced by wooden pillars and the use of magic. Five chimneys were perched on top of the brick red roof.

Hermione's visit with Arthur replayed in her mind as she tried to convince herself that this was a good idea.

"Once, I entertained the idea of you and Ron becoming an item…but I think it's because I truly hoped we would be able to make you an official part of our family."

"Arthur—" Hermione began, reaching over to grasp his hands.

Arthur shook his head, his deep, pronounced smile lines creasing as he beamed at her. "I see that that option is off the table," Arthur said, his gaze flicked down to her engagement ring before his blue eyes pierced hers. "Who is the lucky lad? Sirius Black? Although, I recall he was engaged to Miss Paddington in the past."

"Draco," Hermione said warily, hoping that his family's long, coloured past with the Malfoys wouldn't negatively affect his reaction.

"Ah, yes, that's right. Draco was in the past as well," Arthur murmured. "It must have been awfully difficult for you both, burdened with the knowledge of how everything would turn out."

"It wasn't easy."

"No, I can't imagine so," Arthur scrutinised her features keenly. "So, Draco…Potter?"

"Draco Potter," Hermione repeated, abundant joy bursting from each syllable. There was no disapproval or disgust present in Arthur's tone, his features were crinkled with genial curiosity.

"Does he make you happy?"

"Indescribably so. He can be an annoying twat when he wants, but there's no one else for me. He's it."

Arthur nodded curtly. "Fabian was fond of you both," Arthur said offhandedly.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to utter condolences, but Arthur looked knowingly down his nose at her. "None of that now. Fabian would often remark that you two fascinated him, you especially, he could never figure either of you out. He loved puzzles."

A sharp laugh unwittingly ripped from her lips, and her eyes were swimming with sadness. She had been fond of Fabian. Aside from Remus, he was her favourite Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in both of her lives. "He was a good man."

"His obsession with dragons was passed down to Charlie. He gave him a stuffed dragon for his third birthday and Charlie went everywhere with it," Arthur recalled fondly. He patted the top of Hermione's hand.

"Regardless, you say you're happy, and it shows. That's all I ever wished for you, Hermione."

"Thank you, Arthur," Hermione said gratefully, squeezing the man's hands.

"And you will always be a part of our family."

Sirius and Riley were arm-in-arm striding towards the front door when Fred and George flung it outwards. The twins tried to squeeze through the door at the same time, and grunted with effort as they burst outside.

The twins were identical. At six foot three, they were the tallest of their siblings aside from Ron, who was an inch shorter. Despite that, they had a stockier build from years of playing Quidditch and de-gnoming their gardens. They dwarfed most of their peers.

Their ginger hair was cropped close to their scalps instead of the shaggier look they'd favoured for a few years. Dark brown freckles spanned their nose and cheeks, and lighter ones were sparsely spread across the rest of their bodies.

Angular jaws, long noses, arched eyebrows, light pink lips and strong chins. One of George's ears was missing, the skin puckered and healed over since the war.

Hermione had always been able to tell them apart. There was a tiny freckle beneath George's right eye, and Fred's voice was more polished and rounded than his twin's. The ear made it easier for everyone else. They were rarely mixed up these days.

The twins were wearing tight emerald green t-shirts that showcased their rippling muscles, and cuffed blue jeans. Their feet were bare.

The pair spotted Hermione and strode—in sync—over to her. They had never been good with boundaries. They crouched down, almost nose-to-nose with her, eager expressions on their faces as they greeted her enthusiastically. "Hermione!"

George picked her up under her armpits and lifted her up above his head. Hermione gasped in shock, kicking her feet in the air. Her hand was ripped from Draco's. Her fiancé stared at the scene unfolding in front of him in amused bafflement.

"Hermione! What's this we hear about you being a bloody Marauder?" Fred demanded, poking her side.

Hermione unwillingly let out a giggle as Fred poked her. A gleam of mischief sparkled in Fred's blue eyes as he expertly tickled her sides. No one ever dared tickle her anymore. Sirius had a couple times in their second year, but a few jinxes had fixed that.

Hermione couldn't hold in her laughter. She forgot she was a witch and that she could force them to stop. She feebly swatted at their hands.

"Fuck off," Hermione managed in between gasping laughter.

"I think that's enough, Freddie. She can't tell us all about her exploits if she's laughing," George grinned madly. George threw her into the air, and she screamed. He caught her against his front, his arm around her waist.

Hermione scowled darkly, and pounded against his chest. "George Weasley! Put me down this instant!" She twisted in George's arms, glaring at Draco. "Aren't you going to do something?"

Draco's arms were crossed over his chest, and he had been holding in his laughter. His expression hastily smoothed over as he sensed the murderous aura from his witch. Her eyes were burning with molten copper flecks. He cavalierly shrugged.

"That's a new trick," Fred said, hand grasping his chin as he peered at Hermione's eyes. "Hair colour looks good on you by the way." Fred sent a cursory glance in Draco's direction. "You too, Malfoy. Although, suppose you go by Potter now."

George swatted the back of Fred's head with his free hand, "you know they're Potters now. You read Luna's article five times."

"That was you, dear brother," Fred said, before turning to address Draco. "He's been boasting about how brilliant his girlfriend is ever since the article came out."

"Girlfriend?" Hermione asked with a tiny frown. She hadn't known Luna and George were seeing one another.

"Yea, they've had some odd flirtation going on since she stayed at Shell Cottage. He finally did something at the Gala. Snuck off and kissed her in the gardens, terribly romantic. It was like something out of a romance novel." Fred teased.

George rolled his eyes with pink cheeks as he lowered Hermione to the ground. "Sod off, Freddie."

"It was! You came back all misty-eyed, blushing like a dainty damsel."

As Fred continued his teasing, Hermione put her white sundress to rights. She adjusted the thin straps and her v-shaped neckline—to make sure her breasts weren't spilling out more than they should be—before she smoothed down her skirt.

"George?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

With nimble fingers, Hermione removed her wand from her thigh holster and pointed the end at the underside of George's chin before he could register what was happening. "Do that again, and I'll hex off Frederick's ear so that you are identical again."

Fred stumbled over his words in quick protest. "Wait, why my ear?" Hermione ignored him. She quirked an inquisitorial brow at George.

George swallowed thickly, hands raised beside his head. "Noted. Question."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but made a circular motion with her other hand to indicate that he should continue.

"If I get your permission, can I do it again?"

Hermione snorted. "Yes."

Fred bent at the middle so they were eye-level with one another. "I missed you when you were gone—distance makes the heart fonder and all that—but I've got to tell you, Mione. You're way more fun now."

"Keep talking and you'll find a stick up your arse," Hermione smiled, her words coated with honey.

Hermione drew in a deep breath, tucked her wand away, and threw herself at the twins. She wrapped one hand around each of them and pulled them close together. They were frozen in shock for a second before their strong arms encircled her.

"I missed you idiots too," Hermione sighed happily. George stroked her hair.

"New conditioner? Smells nice," Fred said, taking a noticeable whiff. Hermione rolled her eyes, and pushed against them, but they refused to relinquish their hold.

"One more moment," George laughed before he let her go. Fred followed suit half a second later.

Fred dropped a hand to Hermione's bare shoulder. "You know Hermione, if you and Draco don't work out, you know where to find me." He winked at her. Hermione's mouth fell open. Only the Weasley twins would be bold enough to proposition someone in front of their fiancé.

She peeked at Draco over her shoulder. The man was nonplussed, clearly not threatened by Fred Weasley in the slightest. It made her smile. Draco shrugged. "Unfortunately for you, if she ever leaves me, it'll probably be for Remus. Tonks will be forced to share."

Fred gaped at the man. Eyes widened as he mulled over Draco's words. Draco strode over to his witch, laced his fingers through hers and guided her towards the front door. The others were already inside.

George guffawed deeply as he trailed after them. A sputtering Fred was close on his twin's heels.

The couple crossed over the threshold and were greeted by Charles 'Charlie' Weasley. He was coming down the narrow, winding, main staircase to the left.

"Hermione! You caused quite a commotion when you disappeared towards the end of first term." Charlie was helping Hagrid teach Care of Magical Creatures, so he had seen the chaos that their disappearance caused firsthand.

An easy smile was always present on his face. Charlie's freckles had darkened over the years from the summer months spent outdoors as he worked with dragons. (He was also outdoors in the colder winter months, perpetually bracing against the snow and elements). Charlie had used numerous protective charms, so it had lessened the damage to his fair skin.

Charlie and Bill were both six foot. Bill was more lithe with lean muscle tone. Whereas, Charlie was sturdier, his body built of sinewy muscles that rippled as he moved, yet he had the grace of a panther.

Charlie's shoulder-length hair was pulled up into a short ponytail. His ears had several piercings in them, and he'd added a lip piercing since she last saw him, it was a silver stud. He had his Mother's brown eyes; dark yet dancing with perpetual roguish glee.

For some reason, Charlie was shirtless. A Norwegian Ridgeback was tattooed across his chest, its tail curved over his shoulder and onto his back; it was a magical, breathing tattoo like theirs. Hermione swore he had more ink.

When Hermione Granger was fifteen she'd been sitting on a large rock at the edge of the Black Lake, perusing that week's Defense assigned reading. With a robust roar of a shout, Charles Weasley appeared. The wizard stripped down to his pants and he sprinted into the frigid water. She'd seen several tattoos traversing his body.

(It was after the first TriWizard Tournament task, he'd stuck around for a couple weeks with Dumbledore's permission.)

Maybe he glamours them for Molly's sake, Hermione thought. The Weasley Matriarch had made her disapproval of tattoos and piercings clear.

Black sweatpants are low on Charlie's hips, exposing the deep v-lines that led below his waistband.

"Charlie!" A deep voice called. Charlie's head whipped around, and a shirt (it'd been formed into a ball) sailed towards his head; the edges of the fabric flapped about. Charlie smoothly caught it.

"Thanks," Charlie said to his elder brother. Bill shook his head as he descended the stairs and joined them.

"Mum would skin you alive if she saw you walking around without a shirt when you know we have guests," Bill said, grinning at Charlie before he patted him on the back of the neck.

Fred and George made an appearance, they side-stepped Hermione and Draco, barely acknowledging their brothers before they headed into the main area of the house. Their stomachs were rumbling, so they were singularly focused on their imminent meal.

Hermione turned her attention back to the eldest Weasley brother.

William 'Bill' Weasley had freckles on the tips of his ears and on his nose. Years of toiling in the harsh Egyptian sun as a curse breaker—as a liaison for Gringotts—had given his skin a golden tint. It helped that he had chased summer with his wife, Fleur, since the war ended.

The young couple had spent a few months in Saint Martin—in the Caribbean—on a proper honeymoon as theirs had been delayed. Their wedding had been crashed by Death Eaters after all. Fleur was fascinated and frustrated by the french creole spoken by the locals.

On their way back to the United Kingdom, they stopped in Madrid for a while to round off their extended honeymoon.

Bill's hair had grown past his shoulders, and he had it pinned out of his face with a few Bobby pins. His ears, left eyebrow, and tongue were pierced. There was a peek of a tattoo on the side of his neck above the pointed collar of his short-sleeved, black polo.

Bill came over to them and ducked down to give Hermione a brief hug. She patted his back and gave him a warm smile. Bill straightened out and then considered Draco thoughtfully. He shrugged before he tugged Draco into a quick embrace.

"Good to see you both," Bill said. Genuity attached to every word. His brow puckered. "I do want to discuss something with you after dinner, but we should join the others before Mum gets cross."

Bill travelled down the short, narrow corridor that led to the rest of the common areas in the house after he gave them a quick smile and nod. Charlie ruffled Hermione's hair before he followed his brother.

Hermione dragged in a steadying breath. Draco glanced down in concern and she dismissed his worry by squeezing his hand and smiling crookedly.

The witch's legs carried her down the corridor. Draco's presence was keeping her grounded. The Weasley brothers had been more than welcoming, and Arthur had given her his blessing, but she couldn't shake the frosty stare Molly had sent in her direction at the Gala.

The delectable scent of roast pork, rosemary, a medley of other spices, and roasted potatoes tickled Hermione's nostrils as she entered the main living space. The dinner plates were in the kitchen beside the roast, ready to be filled with food and distributed.

The living room, dining room, and kitchen were squeezed together in the cosy space. The group seated at the dining table were stiff with rigid tension.

Arthur was at the head on Hermione's left, and then seated in a clockwise direction was Remus, Tonks, Riley, Sirius, and Molly at the other end. (There was an empty one between Molly and Sirius, reserved for Percy if he was able to attend.) Fred and George were opposite Sirius and the empty seat. Four seats had been squished together in between Arthur and the twins, they were empty and waiting.

A few feet away from Hermione, on her right, in the living room, were the eldest Weasley brothers. Bill and Charlie opted to sit on the worn, faded red couch facing the fireplace. In a feeble attempt to avoid the scene at the dinner table as long as possible.

Charlie grimaced and he gestured for them to turn around. Bill was leaning forward, dragging a hand through his hair and wincing as Remus's oppressive magic burst into the space.

Remus may not be Bill's Alpha, but the werewolf characteristics he had obtained from Greyback's attack made him more susceptible to their pack magic.

Instinctively, Hermione reached up to caress her pack mark. It dawned on her why Molly had been treating her so callously. Draco's hand tightened around hers.

"What we did or didn't do in the past is our business, Molly," Remus's voice boomed, filling the room. Hermione couldn't see his face, but she knew his eyes were molten gold from the shock on Molly's face.

The edges of Hermione's vision were wobbly and black, and her breathing was quick and shallow. Hermione was plunged back into the body of fifteen-year-old Hermione Granger, when she had been ostracised from her peers and loved ones. Draco squeezed her hand in comfort. The gesture was the only thing that kept her from bolting. A low growl was rumbling in Draco's throat.

Molly's mouth twisted reproachfully. Arthur sent his wife a warning look, but she dutifully pretended to not see it.

Molly had chopped off her hair and was left with a pixie cut; her ginger hair curled around the tips of her ears. Ginny's body was covered in freckles exactly like her Mother. Her brown eyes were deep-set, her brows arched upwards. She was a plump, pleasant looking woman.

At least, she usually was. Molly was currently glaring discontentedly at Remus. As if he had committed an egregious crime. As if he had shat in the roast dinner that was awaiting them in the kitchen.

"Molly," Arthur sighed.

"I've held my tongue about the matter long enough, Arthur! Hermione went back to the past and wilfully dated Remus when he was a child!" Molly castigated as she noticed their presence, and pointed at Hermione's bare shoulder. "And that mark is proof that they engaged in—"

"Molly, for your own good. I suggest you stop speaking," Sirius interrupted.

"Not a word out of you, Sirius! We all know that you've made piss poor decisions in the past. I hardly think your opinion matters here," Molly harrumphed. She knocked the table with her fist to emphasise her point.

Anger broiled in Hermione's gut, it melted away her uncertainty and any sense of insignificance. Molly could judge her choices and speak badly of her, but if she said another bad word about Sirius (or any of the other Marauders), Hermione might draw blood.

There was a side door that led out to the gardens fenced in by a six foot tall, trimmed hedge. It blew outwards, ripped off its hinges. Riley's hair was floating around her, and Hermione could see Riley's magic exuding from her. It was spiky and angry as it ate at the air.

Unlike the others gathered for a meal, Riley doesn't know Molly. This is their first meeting. She had no qualms in making her position as Sirius's soul-bonded wife clear.

"Molly. I don't know you, but if you ever forget yourself and speak to my husband like that again…to start, I will permanently hex your hair a disgusting shade of green and sear off your eyebrows." Riley growled. She stood up sharply, hands clenched at her sides. Hermione had never witnessed Riley this livid before.

Molly, not to be cowed, stared at Riley defiantly, her jaw set with annoyance. Sparks fired off between the women.

The potent emotions of her pack members were burning hotly down their bond, and Hermione tried to stifle her own. Sirius swivelled in his chair to face them, and from his expression she figured that she was doing a poor job.

"Lovely rolls, Mum, you baked them today?" George muttered as he lifted up the cloth covering the basket in the centre of the table. He grabbed a couple warm butter rolls, handed Fred one and put the other on his napkin.

Fred tore off a piece and popped it into his mouth. "He's right, they are scrumptious."

"The issue at hand is she dated Remus, and now she's invited Draco Malfoy of all people into her bed," Molly doubled-down in her obstinacy.

Draco was oddly quiet, and his hand was clammy in hers. Hermione tightened her grip, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand. It was her turn to offer him support and comfort. His breath shuddered out of him.

"Oh, don't be afraid to tell me how you really feel. I wasn't aware that I had to get your approval on who I let into my bed," Hermione snarled, her words frosted with sharp icicles. Molly was balancing on a tightrope and Hermione was keen to cut it and send her careening into an abyss.

Draco squeezed her hand thrice. I love you, the gesture said.

Molly narrowed her eyes as she turned to Hermione, her index finger pointed in Hermione's direction. She opened her mouth to speak again, when Arthur's voice thundered throughout the space, filling every crevice.

"That is enough, Molly. Enough!" Arthur said. "No one has done anything wrong. Remus was not taken advantage of, and Draco is not some evil mastermind. Your distaste of Narcissa and Lucius has poisoned your view of him." Arthur lambasted his wife.

Molly's hand dropped into her lap and her mouth clamped shut. She stared at her husband, flabbergasted, as he thoroughly scolded her. Arthur was far from finished.

"Draco is Dorea and Charlus's son, and you will treat him as such. He is family, just as much as Harry or Hermione is. They have chosen to accept him despite his past transgressions because he has proved himself. He was one of the original Order members, he fought against Death Eaters in the first war."

Molly blinked at her husband as if seeing him in a new light. She averted her gaze, folding and unfolding her napkin in her lap.

"As for the bite mark on Hermione's shoulder. It is none of our business. That is between her and the other members of her pack." Arthur nodded, his tone left no room for argument. Riley slowly lowered herself back into her seat.

"Now, I think it's time we ate. We have kept our guests waiting long enough." Arthur declared, he pushed his chair back, rose, took ten steps to his left and set to work carving the pork to serve.

Arthur cast a couple household charms and soon the plates were moving in a slow, rotating circle beside them. He placed thin slices of pork on each, then crisp roasted potatoes, followed by roast beets and carrots, and finally topped everything off with gravy.

The only question Arthur asked as he worked was whether they wanted their gravy all over, or on the side. Plates floated over to the dining table as he finished with them. A warming charm had been cast on the food, so it was still piping hot as it landed on each of their respective placemats.

Molly was facing forwards, gaze fixed on her hands. It was still tense as Hermione, Draco, Bill and Charlie sat down. Draco was beside Arthur, Hermione was seated between him and Charlie, and Bill took the remaining seat.

As they started to eat, Sirius took the liberty of pouring the bottle of red in the middle of the table into everyone's glasses. The wine glasses were passed down the table.

Molly politely thanked him, but she restlessly pushed her food around her plate. The others dug in. It was delicious, and they all let her know, and thanked her for the meal. Molly nodded with a strained smile, but kept her head bowed.

It wasn't easy for the woman to admit when she was out-of-line, or in the wrong. Molly swallowed her pride and said, almost inaudibly, "I'm sorry."

Hermione heard her clearly because of her keen hearing.

"Thank you," Draco said without looking at the woman. Molly's face rose and she stared at him curiously.

Molly sniffed harshly, and squared her shoulders. "It wasn't my place. I'm sorry. And I know it's been years for you, but I am sorry about your parents, and also about James and Lily."

"Thank you for saying that," Hermione murmured. "I'm sorry you lost your younger brothers."

A pained smile that didn't reach Molly's eyes. "Fabian mentioned that your friend group was a joy to teach. Gideon also boasted that he was your mentor, and the reason why you were such successful pranksters."

Molly spoke trepidatiously, as if she was unearthing agonising memories that she'd sealed behind thick, impenetrable walls.

The Weasley brothers were riddled with surprise. Their Mother never spoke of her younger brothers unless under duress. They had managed to squeeze out crumbs as young boys, but they learned that it made their Mum sad, so eventually they stopped asking. Arthur's mouth pulled down at the corners.

"I am sorry. I'm sorry I ruined what could have been a perfectly good evening," Molly said. She gave them all a decisive nod, "if you'll excuse me. I think it's best that I leave."

"You don't have to do that, Molly," Hermione assured her. She tucked the stray hairs that had escaped her low ponytail behind her ears.

"I do. I think I need to give you all space. Remus, it was wrong of me to be incensed on your behalf when I don't have all the details. Draco, I am sorry, I should have known you were not the same boy you once were."

Without another word, Molly placed her napkin on the table beside her half-eaten plate. She stood, and walked straight out the now gaping hole in the side of the house.

"Molly! Where are you going?" Arthur called after her, half-rising out of his chair.

"To see my Mother!" Molly yelled back. She twisted on her heel, wand in hand, her burgundy robes twirling around her as she vanished with a fizzling pop.

Arthur landed roughly in his seat, bewildered. Molly and her Mother hadn't been on speaking terms since Gideon and Fabian passed away. The last grandchild Missus Prewett had been introduced to was Percy.

"Well, that certainly didn't go as expected." Charlie said as he cut up his meat.

The fireplace roared to life with green flames, and a slender figure stepped through into the living room. Percy Weasley dusted soot off his plum robes. He shook his left wrist to straighten out his suit jacket as he took in the dinner party. They were all frozen in place, staring at him.

"Sorry I'm late, Oliver's work function ran longer than anticipated." Percy said with a bashful smile. "I know I said I may not be able to come, but hopefully you'll still have me."

Arthur twisted in his seat to gaze warmly at his son. "You're always welcome, Percy. Come now, grab some food and sit down."

Percy strolled over to the table and paused beside his Father. Percy pursed his lips as he realised his Mother was absent. "Where's Mum?"

"Brilliant timing, Perce, you missed all the fun," Fred greeted.

George nodded as he ate some potato. His fork hung out of his mouth—caught between his lips—as he mimicked an explosion and a litany of sparks.

"Pull up a chair, grab some food. You could eat Mum's. She barely touched her plate," Charlie instructed, gesturing with his cutlery.

Arthur sent Molly's plate back into the kitchen with a muttered incantation, a large wave of his hand, and a hefty sigh. He was able to do wandless magic, but it was usually limited to household charms.

Percy blinked rapidly. "I can fix my own plate. Again, where's Mum?"

"It's a quaint tale for sure, sit down, and we'll tell you over a glass of wine," Bill said, raising his glass. It was the first time he'd spoken over the duration of the meal.

Tonks remembered that there were rolls. She picked up the basket, grabbed one, and began passing the basket down the line. "Grab a roll, Perce." She'd been uncharacteristically quiet during the earlier argument, but she'd sensed that she shouldn't get involved. Tonks had been more focused on stroking Remus's back and whispering comforts into his ear.

Tonks patted Remus's thigh under the table, he was still on edge, but he was slowly reeling in his frustrations. He shot a grateful smile at his wife before brushing a kiss to her cheek.

Percy squinted at Tonks. As of late, they'd seen each other with increased frequency. Tonks had a tendency to pop into Kingsley's office uninvited. It greatly displeased Percy. Kingsley enjoyed the reprieve from the slog of paperwork he normally had piled on his desk.

Percy fixed himself a plate with the use of magic. They were working on a prosthetic at St. Mungo's that would be able to function as if it was his own, but for now, he was left with only one. Percy's food was still hot as he made his way to his Mother's vacated spot. He stuttered to a halt when he noticed the door wasn't open, it was lying in the grass ten feet away from the doorframe.

"What in Merlin's beard happened to the door?" Percy demanded as he sat down.

Fred poured him a glass of wine, and batted his eyelashes at his older brother. He echoed Bill's earlier sentiments. "Just a minor dispute, drink up, and we'll tell you all about it."

The remainder of the meal was much more agreeable, it almost bordered on jolly. As more wine was served, the merriment grew in boisterous frequency.

Riley and Tonks were standing on the couch, singing Material Girl by Madonna. Tonks was singing into an empty bottle of red wine, Riley into her fist. Sirius and Remus were relaxing on the ground in front of them, both sipping butterbeers. Percy was squeezed between the twins on a loveseat.

Fred's head was on Percy's shoulder. George had his arm wrapped around his older brother's shoulders. The twins still made fun of Percy, but it was the lighthearted ribbing that came with being siblings. They were both infinitely grateful that he'd saved Fred and they continuously showed it in minute ways.

Riley and Tonks jumped off the couch, and dragged one twin up each, and soon they were all singing uproariously and dancing around the living room. Sirius tugged Percy up from his seat, and twirled him in a circle.

Remus had brought his camera with him. He'd intended to take a picture with all of them at the end of the night. Things had gone astray, but Remus wanted to capture the happier moments.

At one point Tonks stole the camera and took pictures of the others. Some of them were blurry, the others not as much.

Arthur had slipped out at some point, presumably in search of his wife. Which meant it was time to visit his Mother-in-law.

Hermione and Draco had temporarily escaped the merriment. They needed a minute to discuss the earlier part of the evening. They were sitting on the front stoop. Hermione's head was on Draco's shoulder, their thighs pressed together, their hands intertwined and resting on top of their knees.

"Are you okay? Draco asked. Hermione drew in a deep breath, and shrugged.

"Not really. It's less what she said, but the way she made me feel. It's as if I was back in fourth year all over again."

Hermione sighed heavily. Draco rubbed his thumb over their joined hands; he lifted them for a moment and pressed three kisses to Hermione's knuckles before he lowered them.

"Ron wasn't talking to me, Harry was too concerned with staying alive and dealing with being a champion. Then on top of all that, Skeeter made my life miserable because of those articles."

Draco nodded. "I remember you getting all those letters filled with foul hexes and jinxes."

"I didn't mind those random people who believed Skeeter, but it's when Molly treated me differently…that's what really hurt. It's like I was taken back to that time in my life, when I felt small and alone."

Draco squeezed her hands. "You aren't alone—"

Charlie and Bill materialised in front of them. After dinner, the eldest Weasley brothers apparated into Diagon Alley to pick up some ice-cream from Floreans. They each had a paper bag in hand, filled with pint cartons of various ice-cream flavours.

Bill sensed that they'd intruded at a sensitive time, and sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck as the two brothers approached the couple. Charlie seemingly didn't care.

Charlie halted a foot away, and crouched down, holding the paper bag to his chest. "This is probably not a good time, but Bill and I wanted to tell you both something."

The Potters stared at the ginger haired man. Draco's eyebrows rose, and Hermione stared blankly at Charlie.

"What exactly did you want to tell us?" Draco asked callously. He was a bit volatile at the moment since Hermione's emotions were in upheaval. Molly had apologised, but the hurt lingered. A bitter aftertaste that would take time to rinse from their mouths.

"When I started Hogwarts…well, I didn't see them until my second year. No one else could see them, so I decided to forget about it until Charlie started…so we went and asked Hagrid about them—" Bill started, but his voice died abruptly in the middle. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, blue eyes looking anywhere but them.

"What, Weasley? What did you see, and what does this have to do with us?" Draco demanded, his grey eyes mercurial. He was having trouble curbing his snarky tone.

If Draco had his way, they would have left shortly after Molly did, but he'd stayed and engaged in pleasantries, because this family was important to Hermione and the other Marauders. His patience was needle thin.

Draco wanted to go home and run Hermione a bubble bath with her favourite scented oils. He would massage her head and shoulders to help lessen her stress at the upsetting turn the evening had taken.

The last thing Draco wanted to do was to hear the elder Weasley brothers tell stories about their Hogwarts experience.

Charlie cleared his throat. He shot his brother a loaded glance, a colossal amount of unspoken words passed between them. Bill shrugged half-heartedly and Charlie groaned. He gripped the paper bag tighter, and it crinkled.

"What we're trying to say, is, we both saw the thestrals when we started Hogwarts."

Hermione straightened, her posture painfully rigid as she eyed them both. Hermione's lips parted in soft shock. "Who—who did you see die?"

Charlie smiled wanly, as if trying to offer them any smidgen of comfort that he can. "I'm not really sure how to say this, but I…we saw your Mum die, Hermione."