A/N: Hi everyone! I would like to offer my apologies for the long delay between updates. It is a stressful time for everyone now and I am somewhat behind on my writing. I have not mentioned it before, but I am also writing a PhD thesis alongside this, so it is sometimes difficult to keep everything going well at once... especially with a pandemic going on. I will try to keep updates more regular and I would still like to say cheers for the continued support to HollyGlen, and for the kind comments of Elisablackcat and Lizzy-Fiction-89. Please leave reviews, I love to read your thoughts!
I would like to make a note about the timeline: I am bumping things up a decade from the canon (though I am trying to stick to it as much as possible and work within the world Rowling has created). So, for us Hermione was born on 19 Sept 1990. We are about to be in 2017… So she is 28 at the beginning of this tale. Draco was born on 5 June 1990. I had them both born 1990 to make it easier on myself to keep up with the chronology. I am a qualitative researcher when I do not write random fics, so I get confused with numbers. To try to keep things consistent here, I changed this a little bit... I apologise that it does not make too much sense with the letter to Hogwarts thing - but, deep in the adult lives of Draco, Hermione, and the rest, little of that matters. Just go along with it?
I hope you are staying safe, and without much further ado, please accept the new chapter.
Chapter 3: Let's celebrate
Molly Weasley was just starting to set out the food when Hermione arrived. Some items were already standing on the dining table clad in a heating spell, while other foods were on the counters of the small kitchen, spread across an array of colourful mismatched dishes throughout the kitchen, waiting to be fed to the hungry guests. There were roasted vegetables braised in duck fat, creamy potatoes with a crispy skin, parsnips and carrots in butter. Steak and ale pies, and a giant turkey were cooking in the family's extra large oven, and plates of food ranging from peas to pumpkin mash, to rich sauces and pig in blankets were arrayed on the table in the Weasley's more spacious living room. Molly Weasley herself was standing near a pot, stirring a potato and leek soup while a sharp kitchen knife hovered near her, slicing hot loaves of bread into thick steaming slices to accompany the soup. Plates with butter stood nearby, making Hermione's mouth water.
Her stomach growled, announcing her presence.
"Hermione, dear!" Molly called out to Hermione, walking away from the soup that kept stirring itself. "How have you been?" The older woman embraced her.
"I've been well, thank you, Mrs Weasley," Hermione responded, smiling. "How are you doing?"
"Great, dear," Molly responded, "I've been quite hectic here, feeding so many mouths is not an easy job, you see. Why don't you give me a hand here? Together we will be able to set this up nicely before all the grandchildren arrive."
That was true enough. There were 19 Weasleys to count, including all the new ones. A total of 11 adult children and their partners, Arthur and Molly, and a grand total of 6 grandchildren - for now. The children ranged from talkative, overly-inquisitive 6 year-olds to bubbling potatoes under the age of one.
Indeed. This was the most peaceful time at the Burrow. Most of the Weasleys have not arrived yet, probably running late because of their children or simply because they were not great at waking up from naps (yes, I am referring to Ron). The one non-resident Weasley that had already arrived was immersed in tasks around the house - preparing for the fiasco to come. Charlie was at the garden helping Arthur set it out for the children to play (to give the adults a bit of a break, Hermione mused). Hermione walked past them on her way into the house. Charlie was weaving atmosphere control spells, shielding from bugs, and all other matters that could be left to his expert hands. They both greeted Hermione and Arthur stopped her to ask about headbands that sound music. Ginny brought one about the house when she and Harry visited, he explained, and said it would connect to his WizPhone, but by Merlin he could not make it sound again.
And how did these earmuffs make music, anyway? He inquired.
As Hermione helped Molly finalise the kitchen affairs, she could not help but admire the spellwork of the witch. There were multiple pots hovering in the air, spoons scooping cooked dishes onto plates that transported themselves out of cupboards. Used dishes and utensils were washing and drying themselves, while Hermione was manually setting out cutlery onto the adults' table. A kiddy corner set out for Victoire, Dominique, and little Molly was already fully equipped, and ancient-looking tall chairs (probably from the times when Bill was a baby) stood ready at the adults' table for Freddie, Jamie, and Lucy.
There were few times when Hermione regretted her decision to not learn house keeping spells: when the water cylinder ran out of warm water and she had to wash dishes in cold water, when she was in bed and needed to get out to flick the Muggle light switch off, and when she needed to cook dinner and the water just wouldn't boil and she was so so hungry. There were spells for all that, but since she erased her parents memories, she decided that all she could do to keep that part of herself - and her parents - untainted, is to keep her home as Muggle as possible. But by all that was good and magical, yesterday was a whole new level of regrets. Not using these spells is different from not knowing them, she reasoned with herself, perhaps its time I learn them… for… extraneous types of situations.
"Whatever happened to your knee?" Molly inquired after a short bout of some small-talk about work, news, and grandchildren. Hermione was grateful that the topic of her personal life did not come up. She was not yet ready to discuss it. She gathered that many were aware.
"I stumbled yesterday," She explained, "Fell on ice and bruised it"
"Well, you should be more careful, dear," Molly responded, already walking toward her potions and magical remedies cupboard, she pulled a bright purple bottle from a high shelf, "Ah, there it is, this should help with the pain," she explained walking back to Hermione to hand her the bottle, "Now, let's take a look at the bruise, shall we?"
Hermione sat across from Molly on one of the kitchen chairs and pulled her dress to reveal her knee. It was not looking good and she knew it. An ugly red and purple ran across her knee, travelling down her shin. She selected black stockings and a dress that went half way down her shin for that exact reason - to hide the monstrous contusion - but to no avail. Even the glamour charms that she knew did not do to hide it well enough; when she cast the spells the bruise transformed into a red and purple Picasso piece instead of appearing like the rest of her skin. The damaged area was too big for her skill level - and besides, Hermione's magical abilities specialised in whole other matters.
Hermione downed the contents of the bottle.
"This is looking quite irritated," Molly observed, "I can speed up the healing, but it will hurt. I suggest that you bite down on something, Hermione."
Hermione partly regarded what Molly said, the potion spreading a relaxing sensation of nonchalance across her body. She picked up a napkin and shoved it between her teeth.
"Holy dragon bogies!" she exclaimed when suddenly a wave of eye-watering pain hit her leg, napkin flying from her mouth, narrowly missing Molly's lap.
Nonverbal spell, a voice whispered past the haze, she used a nonverbal…
As the pain dulled - and her knee reconstructed itself - Hermione became aware of Molly speaking to her.
"- you should sit here for a while longer," she commanded, "and remember, the potion does not interact well with alcohol, so I wouldn't recommend any more than two glasses of wine."
Hermione dumbly nodded.
Minutes crawled by as the pain was growing lesser and lesser while her knee finished its restoration. Hermione was aware of Molly casting spells around the kitchen, of how she floated Christmas gifts from some hidden location toward the Christmas tree (George was reluctant to admit that he and Fred never found the store - he claimed that it was temporarily deposited in an alternate reality). Her eyes drifted to the Weasley family clock, which nowadays was filled to the brim with an array of ginger heads (and a few others), all pointing in different directions - and luckily, not a single one was looking at 'mortal peril'. She startled slightly when an arrow moved, with tree heads jumping from travelling to home. A pop outside announced Ginny, Harry, and little Jamie's arrival.
Seconds later a lean woman walked in, a bright smile on her lips, followed by a disheveled dark haired wizard with a sleepy toddler in his arms. The toddler blinked twice, staring into space, before giving the room a full show of his new set of teeth in a massive yawn. Little Jamie was unfortunate to have inherited Harry's hair, it appears. The mess of black hair on his head stood in all directions, creating some sort of a mock halo effect.
"Ginny, Harry!" Molly hurried toward her daughter and her husband, embracing both before kidnapping the child out of Harry's arms. "It is so wonderful to see you again, how was your trip?"
"It was great, mum," responded Ginny, "the Holyhead Harpies are making a great lead this season, and Jamie was enjoying the game too! He was pointing at the players, and I swear he was following the snitch better than the Montrose Magpies seeker. I think our little boy's got a career set ahead of him."
She tickled the belly of the toddler who giggled in response, "don't you? Don't you?"
"That's lovely, dear," Molly responded as she bounced the child in her arms, "why don't you get settled in, and Harry, you could tell me all about your new position at the Ministry, why don't you?"
Dutifully, Ginny sent her and Harry's gifts to the awaiting tree and Harry followed Molly starting to tell Molly about his promotion to Head of Auror Department and his last few weeks of the transition to the role as Robards was retiring. It was then when Ginny's eyes fell on Hermione.
The witch was positively beaming as she strode across the room to the still hazed Hermione. "And what is up with you?" she gracefully dropped herself into the chair next to Hermione.
"Mmm… forgot to get Jamie a gift,"Hermione drawled, before lifting a finger and announcing, "until yesterday! I got this thing that will help his teeth."
I feel odd, she thought. Ginny knitted her eyebrows at her, "that's very good actually," she grinned, "he's having some trouble with the teeth - "
"Shhh!" Hermione put her finger up toward Ginny's mouth, nearly inserting it into her nose. She looked quizzically onto her finger. That's odd. Anyway… "The best part of it, is that it's educational! It's a pyramid that he needs to assemble, you see. Multiple colours, different sizes. It will develop his logical thinking and cognitive skills."
"You alright, Hermione?" Ginny asked, looking worriedly at her and glancing toward Molly and Harry - both immersed in chatter.
"Yeah, better than ever!" Hermione announced, perplexed. She does feel good, why is the witch so inquisitive all of the sudden?
"Did you drink anything before you came here?" Ginny inquired carefully.
"No, just tea all day… and just now that wondrous purple unlabelled thingie," Hermione responded. Thingie… thingie… yup, she couldn't find a better word for it, "anyway, so I found that game for Jamie, just on time, I'm telling you. I managed to get it right before they closed all the checkouts! Then I got lost on my way to the apparition point… oh, I was in Muggle London. So anyway, you know how most streets look pretty much the same there? Oh, you might not. When was the last time you've been to Muggle London?"
A pop sound came from outside, followed by the sound of greetings and conversation. Hermione ignored it. There was so much to tell. Why am I telling all of this?
Ginny, meanwhile, was checking the bottle that Hermione downed earlier. She lifted and sniffed the bottle, eyes widening.
"So, there I am - walking around London, no clue where I am, my WizNav glitching in the storm," Hermione continued as Ginny's eyes drifted back to her, "when I fall over this mount in the snow! I thought I broke my kneecap into bits… Anyway, it's fine now. I think. Your mom is a magician… wait. She literally is!" Hermione laughed loudly.
"Oh Merlin," whispered Ginny, looking back toward her mother.
"Then - " Hermione stopped abruptly, "the gifts are all under the tree, by the way." A confirmatory nod from Ginny. Good, she knows in case I forget.
"I saw that I tripped over a person! Could you believe it!" Hermione laughed. Why is it funny? Was it funny? "He was almost frozen."
Ginny's eyes were the size of plates. They're the same colour, Hermione reflected, not like the dishes.
"Hermione - " Ginny said before getting interrupted.
"Don't worry, don't worry. He's alive," she waved around a dismissive hand, "freaking alive and kicking and annoying as ever. I spent too much time with your husband in my childhood, I reckon," she continued bored. Why was she telling this story? Oh, yes!
"So, my knee!" she announced with enthusiasm again while Ginny was nodding to her, holding her hands (since when?), eyes slightly too open with alarm - she wants the rest of the story… Hermione concluded in satisfaction, and continued: "I managed to apparate back home but my knee was killing me, and I took that homeless wizard with me too - such a weight! So I took paracetamol, but it didn't help much - do you know what that is? Anyway, I took that medicine only after I washed him - by hand! I should have learnt your mum's spells when she offered to teach. Because he stunk. Also he was too cold. I needed to get him warm quickly, you see? Then I took a pain relief potion, but it only affected the symptoms. Maybe there was something really wrong with the leg?"
Ginny kept looking at her. Won't she respond? Hermione wondered. "Was there?" She asked again.
"Oh, I don't know," Ginny responded, startled again. "Is the wizard okay?"
Why about Malfoy again? "Yeah, defrosted now. I kinda didn't want him to die. That would have been uncool, right? Even though he was such as arse in school, I needed to save him…" She lost track of her thoughts. The clock was moving again… actually, it was quite mesmerising.
"Hermione?" Ginny waved a hand before her face, and Hermione looked back at her. She liked Ginny's new hairstyle. The short pixie cut suit her very nicely. Brought out her cheekbones out more and put emphasis on her lips. Very flattering. She ought to tell her that.
"Who is the wizard you found?"
"Oh, him?" Hermione asked, what an odd question. She was telling her about the knee, Ginny really should learn to keep track of conversation topics, "just that pale rat, Malfoy."
Ginny's jaw fell open just as Ron and Padma made their appearance at the kitchen.
Molly and Harry with the baby went to greet the couple loudly, but Ginny urgently waved to Ron who kissed his mother on the cheek and excused himself.
"Merry Christmas!" He shouted as he approached them.
Hermione smiled widely. It is so nice to see old friends. She really did miss Ron. Maybe she will let him play chess with her… he likes chess.
"Ron, we have an issue," Ginny said, lifting the empty vessel of that marvellous liquid. She pointed at Hermione, who sat deeper in her chair, pasting a wide smile on her face. Suddenly, she felt quite drowsy. Very very comfy, in fact.
"Oh my," Ron peeped. Suddenly, Ron's fingers were opening her eyes which she didn't realise she had shut. Through the mist surrounding her mind she could hear Ginny and Ron conversing. Then there were footsteps, popping sounds outside again, another voice talking with Ginny and Ron, and footsteps leaving. Her eyelids felt so heavy and the chair was so comfy.
"Ah, the purple one?" Then there was a sound, a light, and the fog around Hermione seemed to be dissipating. She could see Ron flicking his fingers in front of her eyes, she tried to focus on them - a task becoming easier with every second that passed.
"Hermione?" He asked, she nodded. "You hear me?" she nodded again.
"The potion you took, Mum never used to do the demystifying spell after administering it." He explained. "I guess it's habit now. Fred and George used to get hurt a lot in our childhood - no wonder about that, I suppose - so this potion would dull the pain, make them happy for a while, and then they would go to sleep. I used to look forward to when that happened." Ron lifted his wand - Hermione's eyes tracked it in wonder - and mumbled a spell. She blinked twice, three times, feeling the fogginess dissipating further.
"Don't worry," Ron put a gentle hand on her shoulder and reassured her, "you'll feel more awake in a few minutes."
"Here you go, Hermione," Padma handed her a steaming cup of comforting java. Hermione gratefully took it.
"I will be back to check on you in a few minutes," Ron told her before taking Padma by the hand and walking with her back to Molly and Harry, who by this point were joined by George, Angelina, and their toddler Freddie. Freddie and Jamie loudly mumbled to each other, occasionally eliciting a high squeak.
A few minutes of silence passed when Ginny observed Hermione, and Hermione sipped her coffee.
"Were you delirious or was that all real?" Ginny finally broke the silence. Oh goblin socks…
"Mmm," mooed Hermione, "well, the knee was damaged, you know."
"So let me get that straight," Ginny pursued, "you forgot to get Jamie a gift - " nod " - rushed to get one in Muggle London - " sip, nod "- fucked up your knee tripping over a tramp - " incline of the head - " - then took him home - " nod nod " - and he was Malfoy!" Silence. Nod.
Ginny burst into a fit of laughter.
"Please, keep it together," Whispered Hermione, looking from side to side at the arriving guests.
"Oh Merlin, this is too good," Ginny's laugh slowed, instead giving way to a very wide grin, "and that part - about washing him? That's true as well?"
Hermione must have looked like she swallowed a lemon, because Ginny's fit of laughter renewed. Hermione decided to hobble away, leaving the laughing witch to catch her breath and then return to laughing some more.
As the evening went on, the pain in the knee went from the remainders of a stabbing pain to a dull ache and then to nothing at all. Aside from the unfortunate word diarrhoea that afternoon, the party went pretty well. George and Angelina congratulated Hermione with the launch of a new product and expressed their opinions on its functionality.
"I'd add a shielding charm," George voiced thoughtfully, "triggered with press and a word of one's choice," raising his left arm across his chest to demonstrate: right hand pressing the other wrist where the new product shone.
Hermione nodded, this was an idea, "I will keep that in mind for the next update. Perhaps a motion with the word?" Hermione flicked her wrist, demonstrating, "in case the other hand is occupied?"
After that, they chatted about the new products from the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, including the popularity of the notorious lime-a-pult app: a prank spell-app that shoots limes and other fruits from the WizPhone at your friends when they answer a call from you - the fruits disappear after a few minutes. Ron called her a few weeks back, and before she knew it a lime had hit her in the face and a banana and kiwi lodged themselves in her hair. Ron laughed to tears, while Hermione plotted her revenge. This exact conversation lead Ron to their corner of the sofa.
It was her opportunity. Hermione thanked Ron for the medical aid and he grinned and said, "not at all, it's my speciality, after all." True enough, true enough. But my speciality is being inventive.
As she walked away, Hermione stuck a colourator-bamboozle on his sweater set to magenta… in an hour Ron's entire body would be that colour. Hermione sniggered to herself as she made her way through the crowd.
Christmas parties at the Weasleys' were always an occasion Hermione treasured. There was always a lot of great food, conversation, gifts, and booze. Best of all, she got to catch up with the Weasleys' she saw less frequently. Bill and Fleur still lived in the Shell Cottage down south with their two daughters, Victoire and Dominique. Victoire seemed to particularly like Hermione because every now and again she would come up to her and ask her an obscure question. Just then, as Hermione was chatting with Bill about goblin loan regulations, Hermione felt a tag at her dress: "what are the migration habits of unicorns?" Victoire inquired. So down to business, Hermione thought.
"Well, they stay to the north of England in the summer months because of the heavy rainfall there, but in winter they come up to Scotland for the weather. They prefer cold and moist condition," Hermione responded. Victoire nodded seriously and walked off, her little shadow Dominique following. It's been like that all evening.
"You're an endless resource for knowledge to her," Bill explained, smiling. Wanting to learn is understandable, Hermione smiled back.
George and Angelina were the other couple of Weasleys that Hermione kept in close contact with, other than Ron and Ginny. George's skills in inventive magic were a great asset for Hermione's involvement in WizPhones. They set up a partnership with the WWW almost as soon as the first WizPhone hit the market and other than during the occasions when limes were hurled at her face, Hermione was delighted at the collaboration.
Charlie was a harder to catch despite his recent move back to Britain. After years in the wild, he decided to work with Magical Creatures on the island, working to conserve the natural magical areas during summers. However, most of the year, he spent working in Hogwarts teaching children about the animals and their care. Christmas was one of the only opportunities for them to sit and talk, though to be honest, Hermione knew Charlie much less than the rest of the Weasleys.
After the war, Hermione worked in Percy's department of Muggle intelligence at the Ministry. Audrey and Hermione shared a desk space when for the first two years after Hermione returned to her education. The analysis that the department provided in a comprehensive report showed that the misunderstanding of Muggles and their culture was one of the prevalent causes of the Second Wizarding War. One of the strategies should be to improve the knowledge of the Muggle world, combat the fear, ignorance, and emerging superiority. Percy was now working on the arrangement of yearly field trips into the Muggle world for Hogwarts students - but the logistics as well as the legal insurance requirements were tough to battle. Audrey, now Percy's wife and mother of his daughter Molly, moved to work with Hermione shortly after the launch of the WizPhone.
They were just chatting, when Molly ran by, almost knocking her mother. Then there was a loud thud and wailing from one of toddlers. Freddie had knocked himself over and was now requesting Angelina's comfort. If not for years of practice, claustrophobia would certainly have set in. So, no, Christmas at the Weasleys' was never peaceful, Hermione reflected, as the thick buzz of conversation was obscuring the wizarding Christmas music playing on the radio.
"Alright, alright!" shouted Ginny, "Everyone under the age of ten to the garden now!" She ordered, her voice ringing loudly over the mayhem.
As the squeaking children piled out of the door, Ginny grabbed Hermione by the elbow and pulled her toward the door as well. "You too," she told her.
Hermione had just enough time to get her jacket and have her red wine glass refilled before Ginny and Hermione were standing in the cool fresh air watching over the playing children in the distance. It was remarkably quieter here, with no more than occasional squeals and ringing laughter sounding from afar.
Ginny smiled at Hermione from her right, "so…" she drawled, "wanna tell me the full story?"
Hermione sighed and nodded.
Draco was alone.
The house was quiet, except for the distant whizz of a faraway vehicle on the icy road near the apartment complex. The wind still blew savagely outside, occasionally rattling a window. A shadow of music could be heard playing somewhere almost too far to notice at all. Most non-magical folk were indoors, celebrating the holiday with their families. Draco supposed that many would have cancelled any planned visits due to bad weather, opting instead to stay home, in a close circle. Magical folk were a different story, but Draco cared little for their celebrations.
Draco had no circle to celebrate with after all, but he was happy to meet the holiday indoors. His best friends, to keep him company, are the radiators that kept emitting that lovely scalding heat. And to top things further, there was no Granger bossing him around.
This morning was exhausting. Draco was fatigued, probably from nearly freezing to death, but also from the detailed micro-management of the witch in whose apartment he was staying. The tiredness could have also been caused by the effort of coming to terms with and comprehension of the change in his life. Not that he was complaining. This was by far the best afternoon he's had in the last half year. Even if he had to sit through Granger's insistence on listing every household item she owned that morning. It strongly reminded him of History of Magic classes back in Hogwarts.
He was stretched out on the couch, sipping his fifth tea of the day, huddled in the blanket that he decided was his cocoon - he would remain in it until he re-emerges as the beautiful butterfly of old - the dashing Malfoy that he was before luck turned on him. No, since Granger left that afternoon, everything was just perfect. He was a burrito of comfy-ness. Not that a Malfoy would ever use such an expression, of course, but what harm could it do if it was just in his head?
Life was great.
Granger left early in the afternoon. She was done ushering him around the house and explaining everything to the detail - including which way to press a handle on a door - around mid-morning. Then she left him in the living room, muttering something about schizophrenia and secluding herself in her bedroom for about two hours before re-emerging dressed like a cone. It was hard to describe why Granger chose that particular combination of clothes - lack of style? Lack of caring? She was wearing a form-fitting burgundy dress that went below the knee, looking like something a respectable witch would wear to court with the right hat and shoe-wear. Or on other official business. But Granger was going to a Christmas party at the Weasley's little house they called a Burrow… In any other circumstances Draco would make a joke of that, but given that the Malfoy Manor and all his family heirlooms stood under barricade of near-impenetrable magic, he repressed that need. The choice of dress did not seem at all appropriate for an afternoon meal and celebration, but it was fully ruined by ill-fitting dark tights and low heels. Any witch should have known that a dress that ends under the knee must expose the legs below and make them appear longer through a high heel. Any wizard certainly knew that if he had eyes, in any case. She suddenly looked shorter and stumpy, instead of attempting to accentuate whatever attributes she may have. No, she did not do herself any favours. But Draco held his tongue. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at her, and smirked.
"Catching some dinner tonight, Granger?"
She looked revolted - he certainly had a strong effect on her. "As I told you before, I am going to attend a dinner. Just make sure my house is still here when I return."
He put an expression of utter solemnity. "I will guard it with my life, Granger." He straightened from his slouch on the couch and put his hand to his chest. "Rest assured, for I will not let any harm come to it."
She rolled her eyes at him and walked out of the room.
It was strange. Wrong even, to try to be civil with Granger - let alone charming. Mocking was much easier and felt natural, like a rhythm they once had which was so simple to fall back into. Draco contemplated this later that evening, laying on the sofa that will be his bed. Trying to be genuine, open, kind - it was fucking weird and awkward and uncomfortable. He was awkward in expressing his gratitude for staying in her home, she was awkward in receiving his acceptance. Now that he thought about it, she never did look him in the eye once. Was she truly so disgusted by his presence?
His attempt to be more civil appeared to have made her as uncomfortable as it made him. She looked even more guarded and wary than when he was being crude and pestering. This just wasn't their dynamic, he supposed. So he mocked her and she relaxed. What an utter circus this was, his life. Taunting and contempt were expected of him while straying from that formula was making people cautious. What a joke. But he was to blame for it, from years of earning his repute.
What made sense to do now was to return to the old dynamic. Mocking comment, an insult, and a charming smile. That made her relax. He was acting as expected, and if that made her more comfortable, Draco would resume as per status quo. That was easier for him anyway. The least he could do is to be witty - not that that was a problem for him… Least of all when he was eager to ensure that he would not get kicked out for bad behaviour.
What a fine line to tread - insulting Granger enough to keep her feeling familiar, but not too much to get completely on her nerves. Well, Draco has done worse than engage in a battle of wits to survive.
Before Granger left, she called him in to the kitchen to introduce him a microwave. To reheat some leftover food she had left. He listened to her explanation of the various buttons, and reflected, should he tell her he has been in Muggle kitchens before?
"Why are you living outside of the magical community?" he asked her, looming over the brown haired woman who was pointing at the defrosting button of the device.
Granger looked up at him, her eyes calculating again, "I choose to." She answered after a brief moment.
You don't say, he rolled his eyes. "Fine, why do you choose to then?" he asked.
She pursed her lips - an expression he was increasingly getting to used to seeing on her face. "I have to leave, otherwise I am going to be late," she evaded, checking a magical watch on her wrist. "Do you need something to keep you entertained?"
She was looking toward the bookshelf.
Draco considered for a moment. "Do you have Netflix?'
Granger's eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets. That should definitely go into his favourite memories file.
Hermione and Ginny stood in the garden, looking toward the horizon in contemplation.
"So he's back from whatever paradise he was at?" Ginny pressed.
"Honestly, I doubt it was any paradise," Hermione responded, "and if there was one, it didn't last too long. I think he spent this time in England, but in the Muggle world."
"Malfoy? With Muggles?" Ginny knitted her brows and shook her head. "Hard to imagine…" She then glanced at Hermione thoughtfully, "do you remember what the scandal was about?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders, "something about reparations for the war crimes of Lucius Malfoy." She bit her lip, wrecking her brain to recall events from years ago. She remembered that she was setting out to the bank when everyone seemed to be talking about the Daily Prophet headline, but she was so nervous for the investment meeting that she did not read the article beyond the headline. Besides, it's Malfoy, she remembered thinking, whatever trouble he's in, he'll sort it out.
But he did not. This much was apparent.
"Wasn't it full seizure of assets?" Ginny interrupted her thought process, "I think they found some Dark Artefacts in the Malfoy estate and launched an investigation. Hm, now that I think about it, I wonder what they found."
Hermione pursed her lips, that was true enough. There was that newspaper and nothing after that. If that's the case, the investigation should have been closed by now…
"It's a bit odd," Hermione agreed, "They usually report the seizure and disposal of Dark Artefacts, it's the law."
It was Ginny's turn to shrugged her shoulders, "we probably missed the announcement then," she proposed. "Still, it's weird that he's homeless now. I thought they'd have some accounts abroad."
Yes, something about this smelt very fishy.
"Well, let me know what you find out," Ginny said. "But for now, I've got monumental news!"
Hermione's jaw dropped, "are you…?"
"No, no!" Ginny waved her hands, "Well, yes. But don't tell anyone, it's too early. But the news is even bigger than this! Charlie is dating someone! But you must swear to Merlin not to tell anyone."
No one knew who was Charlie's passionate love, but the news spread like fire across the Weasley family. It was clear that Charlie was not yet ready to bring the lucky witch or wizard - or Muggle - home, but after so many years of not having any romantic interests, every corner of the house was filled with whispering witches and wizards. Until, of course, Ron suddenly turned bright magenta pink.
Hermione was feeling very giddy as the evening draw to a close, holding on Ginny, hooked by their elbows and giggling.
"Your loofah?" Ginny was doubling over, tears streaming as she laughed.
"A-ha!" Hermione laughed, dropping to the floor alongside Ginny.
"And then you slept next to him?" Ginny continued laughing, turning toward Hermione and lifting her hand to point at Hermione. "You would have been considered lucky by any Slytherin fourth year, when we were in Hogwarts."
"Alas," Hermione shook her head, "I missed my Slytherin popularity by over a decade."
Ginny and Hermione kept laughing.
"Okay, okay," Ginny announced, straightening, "You've gotta do it." She pulled herself up, offering a hand to the still sat on the floor Hermione.
"It's time," she said with conviction.
Moments later, they were standing behind Mrs. Weasley, patting her on the shoulder.
"Say, Mrs Weasley," Hermione started awkwardly. "Could you teach me that spell you use for dish washing? The enchanted sponge?"
Ginny snickered from behind her.