Harry and I corrected that mum would hold a large get-together next month. She owl-ed us this morning saying that she would be holding one on the third Saturday of February. I think she chose the weekend so you could attend — she was disappointed you couldn't spend the Christmas with us. Although she knows of your professional duties, she misses you very much (I know it's not only about the professional life).

On your behalf, I told her you'll be attending.

Merlin's pants! I can't wait to announce the godparents of my child Hermione. I know that pregnancy and children are the only things Harry and I talk about but it's very thrilling. I'm so happy right now.

I'm happy that Ron and you got along. I know that it's slightly awkward between you two but considering that Ron can be childish sometimes, I'm relieved that the situation was handled like adults.

Andromeda and Teddy are also visiting for the get-together. He's a very curious child but I'm pulling the pregnancy excuse when he asks too many questions. You will have to handle the curious and questioning Teddy on the Weasleys' behalf since you raised that part of him. You reap what you sow.

I'll meet you on Saturday. Send me letters about your Hogwarts life. Your stories are better than Harry's.

Your bored and very pregnant best friend,

Ginny

...

Thanks for telling Molly about me attending. I hope she understands why I didn't attend for Christmas. You know it's not only about my professional life—I had so much to catch up and process. It would've been overwhelming otherwise. I'll make sure to apologise to her in person when I meet her.

You and Harry talking about your pregnancy are normal Ginny. I don't what others might say but I think it's very romantic and cute. You're expanding your family and it should be more than thrilling. I would've done the same if I was in your position.

Ginny, I teach children for my living now. Spare me when Bill and Fleur's children throw tantrums along with Teddy. I aim at spending my time outside of Hogwarts with adults, thank you very much. I'm planning on pulling the 'I'm helping my pregnant friend' excuse to get away from tantrums. Also, I'm pushing the children towards Harry to help him for his 'fatherhood' (don't tell Harry that).

Hogwarts is hectic as usual. The fifth-years learned about Amerotia this term (I really have no idea why they even have it in the curriculum). For a few days, we had students ogle at each other during classes. A fifth-year boy was literally drooling at a girl in my class. I gave the girl detention and made the boy visit Malfoy immediately, which according to Hannah was 'boring'. Malfoy, in turn, asked me whether I viewed Madam Pince as a role model. Really, what was I suppose to do? I'm not wasting my teaching hours to stupid love potions.

Filch is annoying as always. I think he purposefully forgets I'm a teacher, popping up in random corridors when I'm patrolling and then asks me what I'm doing. He asks me that! Everybody else seems to find it funny since I'm the only one who Filch seems to aim his malice towards. He's one of the few things about Hogwarts that hasn't changed—Him, Mrs Norris and terrorising students (And one teacher, unfortunately).

Minerva shifted the portraits so that Professor Snape's and Dumbledor's portraits are side by side on the wall behind her desk. It's wonderful in the sense that all the Headmasters are in the same view but seeing Prof. Snape sometimes brings not-so-good memories. He looks like he's sneering when somebody enters the room. I'm sure that first-years stay out of trouble just so they don't have to meet Prof. Snape's portrait.

I'll see you on Saturday Ginny.

The one with the better stories,

Hermione

...

Everybody's meeting at the Burrow on the third Saturday of February. I've told Molly on your behalf that you'll be attending.

Can't wait to see everybody's expressions when we reveal who the godparents are. I'm glad you and Ron tried to sort things out even if it wasn't particularly smooth.

Harry

...

Your letter arrived 30 minutes after Ginny's. I know about the get-together.

I'm as excited as both of you.

Hermione

The get-together with the Weasleys was boisterous as always. When Hermione entered the house, she was consumed by warm hugs and the simultaneous voices of 'Hermione!' 'Mione!' and 'Mowne!' filling the air. She couldn't help but let out a throaty laugh at the nostalgia of the situation.

The last person to hug her was Molly who came out of the kitchen, a bright smile adorning her face. All the Weasleys parted as the matriarch called her name and wrapped her in a warm, homely embrace.

"I missed you, sweetheart" Molly said as she pulled away and looked at the witch in front of her.

"I missed you too. I'm sorry I couldn't attend the Christmas get-together." Hermione apologised. She felt relieved when Molly smiled at her, "It's okay. That's why I specifically made sure the get-together this time was on a weekend."

She ushered Hermione to the kitchen to give her a warm cup of hot cocoa, crying out that she looked too thin. After a soothing small talk with the older witch, she walked towards the living room where the others were lounging around. George, Angelina, Percy and Charlie sat on the couch, talking; Fleur and Bill arranging the table, while their two kids played with Arthur.

The sound of footsteps made Hermione look around to see Ron come down the stairs. The former lovers smiled at each other as a greeting before Hermione went and helped Fleur and Bill with arranging the table while Ron went to Arthur to play with the kids.

When another five minutes passed and no explosive interaction occurred between Hermione and Ron, the other Weasleys collectively sighed in relief. Hermione noticed that Molly peaked out of the kitchen, her eyes widening comically when she saw Ron and Hermione in the same room for the first time and then minutes later when no hexes were thrown around in her house.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek from laughing out loud, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before she continued her activities, thinking in her mind of ways to tell Ginny of what she observed. As if Merlin heard her thoughts, Harry and Ginny walked out of the fireplace, smiling brightly at everybody. Minutes later Andromeda and Teddy entered the house and the warm embraces were repeated once again.

"Well, since everyone here, let's eat!" Molly declared happily huddling everybody to the dining table. With a flick of her wand, the food was levitated from the kitchen to the dining table landing gracefully on the table.

Hermione sat between Ginny and Teddy, the latter happily showing her the different bird beaks he could transform into. The Burrow was filled with the loud chatters, clatters of plates and utensils and the laughter of children. Molly and Arthur couldn't have been happier than this—everything was peaceful once again.

As the main course came to an end, Fleur waved her wand and bringing treacle tarts from the kitchen, drawing a happy exclamation from Ron.

"Blimey Fleur!" he yelled happily as he took a spoonful. He stopped when all pairs of eyes turned on him; Ginny with her eyebrow raised.

"What? A bloke can only survive on canned food for a limited time. Right, Harry?" he asked, receiving an approving nod from his friend, "Also, Ginny—don't look at me like that. I've seen the way you shove strawberries." Ron replied and the table burst out into laughter.

Fleur placed another piece of tart on Ron's plate, "Theze iz for all te good work, Ron."

Ron's complement of Fleur being the best sister-in-law drew a mockingly angry exclamation from Angelina and another burst of laughter surfaced.

After the conservation almost died down, Harry cleared his throat loudly and all eyes turned to him. The Burrow suddenly quietened down and Hermione saw Ginny squeezing Harry's hand in support.

"We've two announcements," Harry started, smiling at Ginny before continuing, "At our last healer's appointment, the medi-witch told us that we would be having a boy."

A round of congratulations erupted into talks of baby clothes and which Quiddich position he would get. Teddy stretched his hands to touch Ginny's belly as he told the baby that he would take care of him. Hermione looked up and saw Andromeda watching her grandson fondly. Her eyes flicked up to meet Hermione's and despite their ages, the two witches giggled fondly at the gesture of the six-year-old.

"Secondly," Ginny said, making the discussions come to a halt. She looked at Harry to continue speaking.

"Hermione and George would be the godparents of the child," Harry smiled at the two people fondly.

"I can guarantee that your child will be one of the most brilliant pranksters in the wizarding world!" George exclaimed, "He'll be one of the best pranksters at Hogwarts along with Teddy."

Teddy shook his head enthusiastically, giving the redhead an ear-splitting grin and shifting his hair colour to mimic the Weasley.

"Hermione, you should aim to become the Head of the House," George laughed. When Hermione looked at him confused, he responded, "Well you'll have to let him off the hook when he gets into trouble."

The table burst into laughter as Teddy agreed with George and Hermione shook her head. Hermione spent the rest of the time telling George that she will not create the 'most brilliant and intelligent prankster', explaining to the younger children what godparents are and talking, the majority of the time, with the adults.

As night time slowly rolled by, Hermione walked out of the Burrow for a quick breather, a cup of hot cocoa in her hand. A beech tree was grown ten metres away from the Burrow by George.

Hermione knew that was the place he sat all night during Fred's anniversary.

She felt a numb pain enter her heart when she looked at the tree, magnificent against the starry night. She dealt with Fred's death—mourning and eventually moving on with life with the knowledge that he'll not return but only remain a wonderful memory.

She couldn't help but fist her clothes around her heart when she thought how fresh the pain must for George that he still couldn't produce a Patronus.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the soft thuds of footsteps behind her and turned to find Ron walking towards her, a cup in his hands.

"Came for the fresh air," he said, standing beside her as he looked at the star-filled night.

"It's hectic as always, isn't it?" Hermione asked after they stayed silent for a while.

She heard Ron chuckling softly, "Yeah but it is nice isn't it? The noise and warmth."

"Yeah, it is," Hermione replied a small smile on your lips, "It feels very nostalgic... as if nothing changed, as if the three of us were still at Hogwarts."

"Yeah," Ron sipped on his drink, "but now there are three children running around causing havoc."

Soft laughter filled the air around them at the mischief the three caused, aided by their prankster uncle George. Hermione thought of the three grandparents, sighing in resignation as they watched the adults tried to control the children while Angelina scolded George for his behaviour. How Ginny would eventually give up and sit beside her mom while Harry shuffled clumsily to contain the kids.

"How's life at Hogwarts?" Ron asked.

"It's fantastic actually. Better than the ministry," Hermione replied, quickly scrunching her nose, "The staffs are great and teaching's actually more rewarding than I expected. Student life's peaceful—compared to how ours was that is."

"Bloody fucking fantastic life isn't it? And you've got the library as well."

Hermione grinned at the horizon. Their conversation seemed smoother than she expected.

"I always thought you would come back to the ministry."

"I thought about it—but work wasn't fulfilling," Hermione explained, "It's boring—and pretentious. But it's different at Hogwarts."

"Great staff eh? You get along with the ferret?" Ron tentatively asked.

"I get along fine with Malfoy. Neville, Hannah, Malfoy and I hang out at Three Broomsticks sometimes." Hermione replied, wanting to justify her colleague.

"So no weird remark or—"

"Ron"

Ron was the first to know about her amicability with Malfoy during her 8th year. He wasn't as accepting as Harry, especially since he found out through a casual mention in a letter, but he eventually came around. Granted she didn't talk about Malfoy with anybody since both of them mostly talked about studies, their experience of war—something that was personal to both Malfoy and her— and their younger days.

She thought it was funny she talked about her nightmares, her insecurities and fears with Malfoy but not with Ron at that point in her life. She knew Malfoy's insecurities, nightmares and fears as well but he was lonely at that time—ostracised by the wizarding community.

Hermione knew Ron's scepticism, something she only understood in complete gravity when she joined the ministry. Pureblood bigotry still existed and although very subtle, it was present.

It was the remnant of the war.

It was the way purebloods still had power in the ministry; it was the way past pureblood-only shops sometimes sneered at half-bloods, muggle-borns and blood traitors when they were served; it was in the way purebloods talked to others, faces pinched as if they swallowed lemons.

Yet they would indulge all their money in war aids, attend ministry parties and promote elf rights and integration of muggle-borns and purebloods for the betterment of society. However, at the same time, they would crowd together at parties and talk to others only when it was necessary.

They pretended to change to gain acceptance and maintain power.

"Malfoy's not like the people at the ministry," Hermione clarified, using her bossy, stern voice that demanded absolute agreement to her words. Ron made a torpid, disgruntled sound but didn't ask any more questions.

"I assume the ministry's the same," Hermione asked as she washed down her negative memories of the ministry with tea.

"Yeah, like you said years ago—fucking corrupted," Ron replied, "Shacklebolt's a blessing. He's taking down the pro-pureblood policies one by one. But some people are still petrified mentally with blood supremacy."

"No change from last year?"

"No bloody change. Except for more paperwork."

They both stood in silence before Hermione asked, "Life's not bloody fucking fantastic for you is it?"

Ron burst out into laughter, shaking his head as the tea almost spilt out of the cup. He turned around to face Hermione for the first time, "No. It's not."

She smiled at him before laughing along with him. Ron remained the same from the year before: with more street intelligence than Harry and Hermione combined. His shoulders were broad, his figure built from the Auror training and freckles spread across his face like Ginny's. He was the tallest out of the trio, Harry just a few centimetres above her.

Hermione noted that Malfoy could easily tower over all three of them. The day at the quill shop made her realise that the top of her head only reached his chin.

Trying to shift her thought from comparing Malfoy's height to herself and her friends, she cleared her throat before she asked Ron, "So how's life? I mean outside of work?"

Ron shrugged, giving an unintelligible sound, "It's going okay I guess. I'm planning on moving to my own house. I found one near Ginny's house."

"You're shifting out of the Burrow?"

Ron smiled wistfully at her, "I moved out of the Burrow when you started staying with your parents. I'm currently living in a ministry apartment."

Hermione was pleasantly surprised by the new information. Ron was the only child who stayed at the Burrow with his parents after the war, offering support and care—something all the Weasley children, Harry and she commended him for.

"You moved out of the Burrow?"

"Yeah," he replied, chuckling at a distant memory, "Mum's been asking me to move out for ages now. They argued that they could take care of themselves. They found my love very...smothering."

Hermione laughed at the memory. Ron was a worrywart and she remembered one particular memory of him destroying the kitchen so he could make porridge for his sick parents. He was banned from entering that part of the house after that.

"Why did you decide to move out?" she asked curiously. When it came to a home, Ron liked staying at one place as long as he can, considering he moved a lot during working hours.

Hermione felt slightly perplexed by the shift and turn of air between them. The light heartiness between friends changed into something else and she could feel the nervous radiating from him like waves.

A small silence filled between them before Ron spoke up, "It was lonely there... without you." Ron muttered out his answer, that Hermione had to lean closer towards him to hear him.

"I came back, Ron. We can always meet up—that is whenever we're free." Hermione squeaked out, suddenly nervous at the turn of events.

"I didn't mean that." Ron said, speaking more loudly as he looked at her, "The apartment reminds me of you. It reminds me of when we were together. You as my girlfriend, as my love, which I miss. I miss us. "

Oh.

Oh.

She wasn't expecting that. She blinked at him once. She really wasn't expecting that.

She knew to be silent was worse than speaking and so she spoke, relying on her words to give the truth before her brain jumped in and thought of what-if scenarios based on her guilt.

"I'm sorry Ron—I'm not think, I mean, I don't..." She looked at him and she saw the same expression from years ago—the tight lips and pale skin. She felt the guilt pool at the pit of her stomach but she continued, "I don't think a romantic relationship between us will survive..."

She apologised once again before she went back into the Burrow, glancing back to see Ron still standing at the same place. She didn't look back again when she entered the Burrow.

The Burrow was still noisy when she re-entered. Ginny was still sitting beside Molly, a cup of tea in her hand. Fleur and Bill were carrying their kids upstairs to put them to sleep while the rest of the Weasleys went back to their room.

Hermione's thoughts on what happened minutes ago were interrupted by a breathy yelling.

"Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!"

Teddy was pulling her with his small hands, smiling widely at her. When his presence was acknowledged with a grin, he pulled her towards the couch—tripping once over a non-existent object—where Harry and Andromeda were sitting. After waiting for her to settle down, he gave the three a toothy grin, briefly sticking his tongue through a missing tooth.

"I can do two at the same time!" he exclaimed happily.

He looked at Harry, squeezed his eye shut and puffed his cheeks. Teddy's turquoise hair shifted to a messy jet black and he opened his eyes to reveal the same bottle-green eyes of Harry.

"Blimey! That's brilliant!"

Teddy giggled before looking at his grandmother. She gave him a reassuring smile as she straightened her back, her baby blue robes shifting slightly. The 6-year-old concentrated again and his hair grew longer—light brown straight hair that fell to his back and opened his eyes to reveal honey coloured eyes.

"That's a mini-version of me" Andromeda laughed and the other three joined her, Teddy's hair immediately shifting to a mix of pink and blue.

"Now! Hermione's turn!" he yelled, bringing the adults out of their frenzy. He did the same as before and the three watched as the long light-brown hair changed to curly hazelnut and the honey-coloured eyes changed to chocolate brown.

"You're hair's better than mine Teddy," Hermione said, earning her another toothy grin. The small boy shook his head, returning to his normal turquoise blue hair and green eyes.

Before he could continue talking, the clock chimed, causing Andromeda to gasp, "It's late. Teddy, it's almost bedtime."

Teddy pouted; the tips of his hair turning greenish-brown and he muttered about wanting to show more. Andromeda pulled her grandson close to her, wrapping her hand around him, "You did a good job. You can show us more some other day." She paused for a moment before adding, "Maybe we can photograph the changes and show them to Victoire tomorrow."

The boy's hair turned pink and he smiled at his grandmother before wrapping his hands around her neck "Really? Thanks Gran!"

Harry burst out into laughter and Andromeda turned to Hermione to give her a small wink, making the younger witch laugh at the older witch's tactic to get her grandson home.

Harry and Hermione stood in front of the fireplace as Andromeda gathered her things. She wished Harry goodnight, waited patiently as Teddy gave the younger witch and wizard a tight hug before looking at Hermione.

"I'll check out the books you recommended," She said to Hermione, "So far, you know the best books."

Hermione smiled at the older witch. Though her features were aristocratic; the long nose, high cheekbones and well-defined chin, she looked welcoming rather than intimidating. With the graceful steps and elegant manners, she gave a different form of love than Molly—advises and affection that was given after a logical understanding of the situation and person while Molly gave love blindly.

With the normal goodnights said, the Tonks returned to their home with a flash of green light.

Harry and Hermione joined Molly and Ginny in the kitchen where Ginny predictably had a bowl of strawberries on the table as she listened to Molly's stories of pregnancy. With a kiss on her forehead, Harry settled down next to Ginny while Molly gave Harry a cup of tea and Hermione hot coca. Hermione shifted comfortably on the wooden chair, crossing her leg over the other as she sipped on the drink and sighed happily.

"Luna's currently exploring the South American forests." Ginny conversationally started.

"Oh yeah, she wrote to me about that," Hermione replied, "It's a two-person project right?"

"Rolf—" Harry added, "Rolf Scamander. It's their third project together."

Ginny giggled, "They're dating."

Hermione chuckled, "Some mischievous Nargles brought them together apparently."

"Nargles?" Harry asked incredulously.

Ginny shrugged, "Nargles. But it seems she's smitten with him."

Before they could continue, footsteps from the kitchen entrance made them turn around.

"I thought you were with Charlie," Molly asked.

Ron shrugged, "He's out like a troll." When his mother conjured a cup of tea, he tenderly took it from the air and sat down at the only seat available, next to Hermione.

Harry continued the conversation. In between conversation, when Harry and Ron were reassuring a concerned Molly about their job, Ginny raised her eyebrow at Hermione, jutting her chin between Ron and her. When Hermione looked at Harry, Ginny pursed her lips together before popping a strawberry in her mouth.

Hermione left the kitchen table when the clock chimed eleven. Moments before she dropped the floo powder she caught a glimpse of Molly holding Ron's hand and give it a small squeeze. She looked away and wished goodnight to the Potters.

Hermione didn't hear about Ron afterwards. Ginny didn't talk about him in her letters other than a fleeting mention of how Molly and Ron were considerably closer than before. Harry didn't mention anything as well but she assumed that it might be to give them space rather than demand answers.

She knew she didn't want a relationship with him. She wondered whether she should write a letter to him.

While she mulled over on Ron's confession, she felt a light tap on the top of her head. She looked up from her chair to find Malfoy in front of her with The Daily Prophet in his hand.

He raised one pale brow at her before speaking, "The owl's pissed that you didn't take the paper." He slowly extended the paper, hovering it over her reached-out palm, "I won't suggest reading it."

Confused she unfolded the paper, scanned through the front page before quickly turning to the third page.

Hermione swore out loud, making Madam Hooch jump in her seat and yell out 'Language!' across the room. Ignoring the snicker from Malfoy, she read through the small article headlined 'Friends of The Golden Girl' with a picture of Malfoy and her at the quill shop. It was mostly made up of quotes and speculation from the shopkeepers about their relationship along with a student's observation of how they taught and interacted in school.

"Did she just write that we've similar teaching styles?"

"Unfortunately she's misinformed," he replied, "It's common knowledge that I teach better and have a better method."

Hermione looked up from the paper and glared at the white-blonde in front of her, "Malfoy, you're going to get hexed and you're going off-topic."

He hummed with amusement before closing the paper, "I did suggest that you don't read the paper."

"You gave me the paper."

"I offered the paper with a warning so that the owl so can go back in peace. It looked like its beak was hurting."

"Since when did you care about the owl?"

"Since it was waiting for you to take the bloody paper," he smirked, "it looked like it was going to drop the paper on your head. Definitely looked like he didn't want to be friends with you."

Hermione scoffed in response, "Mal—"

"Breakfast?" he cut her off, earning him a glare, "We can continue with who's the better teacher and whether that owl wants to be friends with you—even if everything's evident."

Hermione got up from the chair and walked with him to the Great Hall, "And what may I ask, is evident?" she scorned.

"Why, Professor Granger, that I'm the better professor and that the owl clearly doesn't want to be friends with you."

"That's not true!"

Malfoy looked at her, a wolfish grin on his face, "You want to befriend the owl? Granger, I didn't know you were that friendless."

Hermione gritted her teeth. She walked towards him and jabbed her finger on his chest, "You—git! You know what I'm talking about. I don't want to be friends with the owl!"

"The poor owl"

She glared at him and growled out in frustration, speechless on how to deal with the annoying wizard in front of her. She considered punching him as she did in her third year.

Her plans were ruined when he made a gratifying expression and barked out into laughter. He threw his head back, laughing, and all she saw was his Adam's apple move above his dark green shirt.

"So easy to rile up—you're a fiery lioness!" he exclaimed as he ran his fingers through his hair after he calmed down, taking staggered breath through his nose. After a while, he cleared his throat, "Breakfast?"

Hermione looked at him, brows knitted and finger still on his chest, "You're still a git."

Malfoy chuckled in response, "Better than Skeeter."

Hermione let her hand fall away from his chest and she blinked, wordless for a moment. She realised after a few seconds that it might've been his way of taking her mind of the article and the beetle. She smiled at him, "That you're."

When he gave her a small smirk, she asked, "Breakfast?"

Hermione was sitting at Draco's living room, her robes hanging on the couch. Both of them had moved to the Potions professor's faculty apartment after a staff meeting about the coming graduation ceremony.

Hermione took the white wine offered to her, muttering thanks as she sank into the leather couch. Draco's apartment was a combination of blacks, greens and greys, and all the things in its place—a habit he carried from his student days. There was not a pillow out of place or a creased curtain.

Hermione's apartment, however, looked depending on how busy she was. She had once walked into her home and gobsmacked at its state. It was as if a tornado tormented the place, with pillows askew, a blanket hanging ungracefully over the armchair and robes pooled over the coffee table.

They sat in silence at the opposite end of the couch as they sipped on the wine. A subtle taste of green apple lingered on her tongue after each sip and she remembered their school days—of him biting into a green apple as he walked down the hallways or how he nibble on it while they did their homework in their dorm.

"So" he started.

"So" she repeated.

"I got a very polite and interesting letter from Rita Skeeter asking for an interview."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, eyes slightly wide, as she waited for him to continue.

"She wants to know about the transfiguration professor."

Despite the amusement in his tone, Hermione groaned. She huffed out an irritated air and sipped on her wine, "What did you say?"

Draco shrugged, "I didn't reply."

"You ignored her?"

He gave her a smug smirk, "It's the best strategy. Makes her blood boil, especially since she pleaded in the letter."

Hermione let out a throaty laugh. Irritating Rita Skeeter remained one of the favourite things many people enjoy, especially those who were cast in negative lights by her quill. Although the witch tends to take revenge, a small way to repay it was something that made people laugh.

"She might write a bad article about you." Hermione said after a moment, "Twisting truth is her speciality."

"She won't have anything other than how most of my detentions are cauldron cleaning." He replied.

Hermione snorted a laugh. However even though Draco seemed okay with Skeeter, Hermione was nervous. Draco was correct: Skeeter picked her as the target and she wasn't going to give up easily. Her former schoolmate had more than enough negative articles written about him by the beetle and Hermione worried she would do it again. Since Skeeter would easily twist the truth, the friendly banter between the two professors could be misunderstood and some weird articl—

"Granger shut up. I can hear you thinking."

She glared at him with knitted eyebrows for a moment, "I'm being serious. Skeeter takes revenge, Malfoy."

"I note affection in voice Granger," he drawled and was responded by Hermione rolling her eyes, "I'm aware of Skeeter's inability to forgive and you're aware of my ability to ignore. However, your bleeding heart and excessive concerns are more burdening."

She stared at him for a second before giving him an impish smile, "I note affection in voice Malfoy."

He quirked his eyebrow and his eyes gleamed as he brought the glass close to his lips, "A great misfortune."

A smile played on both their lips as they sipped the wine in companionable silence.

"How are you going to spend the summer vacation?" Hermione tentatively asked.

"France. There's a Potioneer who I used to work for before I joined Hogwarts. I help him out whenever I can." Draco paused for a second, "How about you?"

The tinkling at the tip of her toes was still present when she answered, finally understanding Draco's absence from Wizarding Britain years ago, "I'm spending time with my parents. They're adamant that I spent more time with them after everything."

He hummed in response.

Hermione tugged her feet beneath her body as she shifted in the couch. She grazed the soft material of her navy blue pants, pinching and rubbing the material between her fingers as she bit her lower lip, "France?"

He made a small sound of agreement, "Malfoys are originally from France. My father owned a villa there. That's where I went after I graduated from Hogwarts."

Chocolate brown eyes instantaneously met grey ones. His eyes remained calm while hers flickered with emotions as the pieces clicked together in her mind, "You didn't stay at the manor?"

Bewilderment flashed through his eyes for a brief moment, "No...But I used to visit mother often at the manor."

"Oh" Hermione breathed out softly. She opened her mouth to speak—to ask about the letter—but waves of confusion, doubt and nervousness mixed together at the pit of her stomach. She shut her mouth quietly deciding against it. Confusion flashed through his eyes and Draco raised his eyebrow as he saw turmoil of emotions pass through her eyes. He waited for her to reply but she averted her gaze away, biting her lip as she played with the material of her pants.

"Granger?"

Hermione lifted her face to meet his eyes. She felt nervous and stupid at the turn of events. She always considered his lack of response as rejection. That's why she didn't bring it up months ago.

Now, in his apartment, both of them sober, she was on the verge of spilling it out. She bit her lip harder when he raised his eyebrow. She felt her cheeks flame up with embarrassment when she realised she never thought of the possibility of him not living in the manor. Her emotions from years ago had deterred her from trying again.

"Er—I always thought you stayed at the manor." She started, letting a nervous laugh escape her mouth. He only looked at her incredulously as she gulped down the wine.

Hermione's intuition told her to tell him about it, considering he looked like he had no idea but a part of her was embarrassed to admit it; to admit that she was hurt he didn't reply, to admit that her doubt and fear prevented her from trying again.

She bit her lower lip.

"I sent you a letter," she finally admitted, fingers still playing with the material of her pants as she looked at him, "a couple of months after we graduated. To the manor."

Draco's breathe caught in his throat and Hermione saw his eyes widen. He choked out the question as if not believing the words he heard, "What?"

"You didn't know," Hermione whispered but in the silence of the room, it was loud enough for both of them. It was a statement rather than a question and she saw him shake his head in daze, silent.

He placed the glass on the table like he might spill everything and looked at her, shock still present on his face, "We kept getting howlers and cursed letters. Mother only accepted letters from the ministry and societies she was part of."

Hermione looked at him, not knowing what to say. She felt relieved that she got a solid answer: the opacity all these years left her feeling that nothing existed between them outside Hogwarts.

"Fuck—Salazar! Grang—" he groaned, his hands on his face as pressed his palm on his cheeks. He looked at her, an array of emotions in his eyes, "I'm sorry."

Hermione scooted closer towards him, "It's okay, you didn't know about it. And I'm sorry too—for not trying agai—"

"You don't have anything to apologise for—"

"—you also don't anything to apologise for." She retorted.

He snorted softly, "Apologises are the only thing I have." He stilled before looking away, eyes fixating on the wine glasses on the table.

Hermione blinked. She knew the look. She knew the words. She had seen them when they were students; when they sat in the common room after nightmares. She knew the look.

It was self-hatred.

The image of them sitting together silently with shaking hands as they tried to flush out the memories of their nightmares and war through each exhale passed through her mind.

She remembered how they would try to soothe it down with tea and hot coca; they would try to numb the pain coursing through their head and heart—anything to make it stop. But Hermione wasn't alone. Harry, Ron and the Weasleys were there providing support in their own ways, whether it was a hug, sweets or a good book. There were love and support available for her.

She wasn't alone.

Nobody jeered at her with open distaste or avoid her like she was death.

She wasn't alone with her nightmares and traumas.

"Malfoy"

Her voice was stern. She knew what she had to say, "Malfoy. Look at me." She continued even when he didn't, "You were young. We were young. We were fighting another man's fight."

She had said this to him years ago. Repeated aloud to him, muttering it over and over until his hands stopped shaking and his breathing slowed down. Repeated aloud to herself multiple times to calm down, until a gentle breeze on her cold skin reminded her that she was profusely sweating minutes ago.

He looked at her, all the walls around him faltering and slowly crumbling.

"I'm sorry. For everything—everything I did to you and others," he whispered out.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered back, "I'm sorry for the things I couldn't do. I'm sorry for the people I couldn't save."

She let the words soak to their bones, waiting for everything to be alright again.

So that they were in the present again.

She offered him a small smile and saw the self-hatred gradually ebbing away. He nodded at her. She relaxed and offered his glass back. A companionable silence passed between them as they sipped on the wine, the taste massaging their tongue and throat. They entered into a small conversation about wine and green apples.

"Granger, can I ask you something?"

Their conversation reached a place where Malfoy and Granger didn't exist; no former death eater or War Heroine—just Hermione and Draco.

Hermione hummed in response.

"What did you write in the letter you sent me?"

She turned to face him. He looked at, grey eyes meeting her with raw curiosity before looking back at the fireplace, finishing his second glass of wine.

"Just the normal things," Hermione replied, trying to keep her voice steady, "and...about whether you've sent me a note."

The glass in his hand stopped moving for a split second before he pressed it to his lips. He nodded.

"The note with the purple hyacinth. You were the one who kept it on my book right?"

Hermione heard the soft gulp that went down her throat and saw the bobbling of Malfoy's Adam's apple. He nodded, and spoke up softly, "I did...I sent you that note. I thought you never got it."

She released a relieved breath, one she never knew she held. Draco turned to look at her, his pale skin turning a soft pink.

"I recognised your handwriting... It's a lovely note—it's something I treasure." She answered, feeling her cheeks warm.

She watched as he looked at the glass in his hand, more pink tinting his alabaster cheeks. She wanted to reach out and run her knuckles across the rose bloomed skin.

She immediately looked down on her glass, cheeks flushing. She breathed in before softly speaking, "I forgive you. I forgave you years ago...when we started talking after the war...I told you that before—I still do." She paused, her skin burning and heart thumping against her chest, "Also, I want us to be friends...too."

She looked at him through her lashes, watching him, trying to understand his emotions. She slowly uncurled her toes when he smiled at her—the rare one where both the corners of his mouth was uplifted. The grey of his eyes softened to the point where she thought she was looking at someone else.

When moments passed and they didn't say anything to each other, she slowly raised her glass. With a small chuckle, he clicked his glass with hers.

Author's note:

An owl is supposed to find the person no matter where. I changed it for the sake of the plot. As well as that Hermione sents the letter to the manor instead to a person, so I hope it provides enough proof to not form a loophole.

Remus Lupin has green eyes so I thought it would be fitting for Teddy to have green eyes (as the main colour) along with some crazy colour like turquoise for hair (since Tonks had pink). But also I think turquoise colour rocks.

I know that Harry becomes close to Teddy and Andromeda. But I wanted to maintain some form of distance between the Tonks (Andromeda) and the Weasleys. Although I love the family, I don't want anybody who talks to them to be sucked into the family. In the books, both Hermione and Harry becomes part of the family. Molly and Arthur have 12 grandchildren. 12! 13 if you add Teddy cause everybody loved him. So the distance is required so that not all witches and wizards become a Weasley.

I was reading about wands (cause I wanted to find out the colour of Remus's eyes then somehow I ended up in Pottermore then somehow in wands.) The wands literally explain the character—unicorn hair and Hawthorne for Draco (which is really fucking sad since it just speaks complicated and confused person), dragon heartstring and vine for Hermione (one of the most powerful and which seeks for a greater purpose, that is literally like 'hello I belong to a great witch'), and Umbridge (short wand, something about lacking which is definitely is there—both height and mind.)

Also, I felt bad for Draco after I read about his wand. Like in the first 5 books/movies, you're like 'that asshole' then later onwards it's like 'you're a coward and not using the Slytherin cunningness enough but I pity you. A fuck lot. You're a kid and the only kid with a dark mark which is just pathetic and sad. I hope you find redemption. You're less grey than Snape but definitely more on the white side.'

Anyway, Review~