Hermione nibbled on one of the dainty sandwiches. 'These are lovely. Where did you find this bread?'

Narcissa gave her a condescending look. 'It's home-made.'

Narcissa didn't follow up with the usual polite offer to share the recipe, by which Hermione inferred that it was 'home-made' by an army of house-elves. Hermione supposed one didn't mention house-elves in polite company.

Delicious as the sandwiches were, Hermione thought that they should get straight to the point. 'I suppose you have misgivings about my relationship with Draco, because of my Muggle background.' Hermione was determined not to let that truth be buried. She might not technically be a Muggle-born, but she was Muggle-raised, and if you believed that magical talent wasn't determined by blood, it amounted to the same thing.

Narcissa shook her head. 'You come from a good family; I have no objections to your heritage.'

'Blood doesn't make someone family. Lucretia Nott had less influence on me than a random stranger from the street.'

'I was referring to the Grangers. From what I've heard, they were good people, cultured, with respectable professions.'

Hermione was speechless.

'Sometimes one has to be flexible. I've performed some research into the Muggle world, and I found that their society is far more advanced than I was led to believe.'

'How convenient that your research revealed that now, when it has just become a safe opinion to hold.'

Narcissa stared out the window at her rose garden. 'When my husband was alive, such a thought was unthinkable. After the things he'd done in the name of his cause, it would have broken him to find that it was a false one. Now Draco can only benefit from the knowledge.'

A wife and mother, holding the opinions that her family's wellbeing required her to hold, maintaining ignorance for the sake of household peace. Hermione could believe it to be a partial truth, something that fit the old-fashioned notions that still hovered over the Pureblood society. But as she had noted, it was too convenient. She had the distinct impression that Narcissa Malfoy had never been a subservient little house-wife. And if it were the whole truth, she certainly wouldn't be sharing it with Hermione.

'Why are you being so candid with me?' Hermione asked as she took another sip of tea.

'I find that honesty is important when seeking a favour. I needed you to understand my circumstances.'

Now she was confessing to using manipulation, allowing Hermione to pat herself on the back for seeing through it, to let her guard down. Layers and layers of manipulation. It was giving Hermione a headache.

'I would like to reconcile with my sister Andromeda and meet my great-nephew,' Narcissa stated calmly. 'I was hoping that you could help me make amends with her.'

Hermione put down her sandwich and considered her answer carefully. 'Andromeda knows all about my relationship with Draco from the papers. I see her on a regular basis when I babysit Teddy. I waited to see if she would ask me about him, but she hasn't. I don't think Andromeda is ready to talk to you. She lost her husband and her daughter all at once, and you were a part of that. The amount of pain she went through must have been excruciating. Making her face you would be unkind right now.'

'I see,' Narcissa said, gripping her teacup tightly.

'Teddy is Harry's godson, and he's like family to me too. Over time, if Draco and I stay together, she'll get to know him, and there might come a day when things are different.' Hermione picked up her sandwich and resumed eating, eyes on her plate, to give Narcissa time to process her feelings. When Narcissa did speak, Hermione was shocked.

'Clever girl. I'd heard that you were fond of blackmail. If I interfere with your relationship with my son, you'll keep me away from my sister.'

'No, of course not!' Hermione insisted. 'I would never use Andromeda or Teddy like that. I was just stating a plain fact. Time can heal wounds.'

Narcissa clearly didn't buy her answer. Hermione thought it was time for her emergency back-up plan. She took a pen and paper out of her bag, scribbled a quick note, and sent it through the Floo. Pansy responded to her S.O.S note in a flash, appearing minutes later in the fireplace.

'Ladies,' she greeted as she settled in unceremoniously, pouring herself a cup of tea. 'I heard that you need a translator. I had a handsome beau in France whose one tragic flaw was that he turned out to be a former Gryffindor. Of course I could never settle so low, but I picked up some of the dialect before I broke his heart. I will give you my services for free just this once, because it should be entertaining.'

An hour later, Hermione plopped down on her couch and screamed into a pillow.

Draco stroked her hair. 'That bad, huh?'

She rolled over. 'It was awful. We were both so tense and paranoid that we twisted everything into an insult. I don't know how you Slytherins live like that. But I called Pansy for help, and we reached a tentative truce. '

'Good,' Draco said. 'I know she can be difficult, but she is my mother.'

Hermione knew that Draco and his mother were extremely close. She would pay Pansy to chaperone next time if that was what it took to keep the peace. Maybe they should keep their relationship to postal correspondence. Then at least there would be some evidence if she had a psychotic break.

'So, how did your little boy's night go?' He had gone out to a pub the night before with Theodore, Harry and Ron. He had crawled into her bed around midnight, and had been snoring away when she left for her tea with his mother.

'Not bad actually,' he said with a smug look. 'Theodore was very civil, probably because he has a solid plan ready to take me down if I ever hurt you.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Don't be so dramatic.'

'I'm not,' he insisted. 'It's a Slytherin thing. And it's mutual. I came up with some contingency plans of my own when I found out he was your brother. I'm glad things worked out between you, but it could have easily gone another way. It's just good sense to be prepared.'

'Did you ever have an emergency take-down plan for me?' Hermione asked.

Hermione could almost hear crickets chirping.

'No, really,' she said. 'I'm just curious. I won't hold it against you.'

He gave in with a sigh. 'No, I didn't. I could never decide how much of a threat you were back at Hogwarts. Sometimes I thought you were too soft-hearted to worry about. But then I would see or hear about something ruthless you did, to Marietta Edgecombe or Rita Skeeter. You need to understand someone before you can plot their demise. I could never get a proper read on you. And of course I was more focused on Potter. I had endless plans to take him down. And Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle. There was a pretty long list.'

'Doesn't that get exhausting?' Hermione asked. 'Worrying all the time about which of your friends will betray you?'

'It felt like a game back then. Now it's a tool, one I only use when I need it. It's comforting to know how you'll respond if the worst happens.'

Hermione couldn't really argue against that. She had so many escape plans during the war that she could have written a book. And Draco's childhood had been touched by war from birth. She just hoped that someday she could help him prepare for the best-case scenario instead. She had found that sometimes that could be even scarier.

'So, how were Harry and Ron last night?' she asked. 'Are you BFFs yet?'

'There were a few snarky comments thrown around, but no brawls. The firewhiskey helped.'

Hermione poked him in the shoulder. 'More details please.'

'I think Weasley needs a good rivalry, someone to vent his temper at without feeling guilty. As long as I don't rile him up too much, we should be OK. Potter's keeping an open mind because it makes him feel all noble, and because of his godfather's family. He'll come around if I'm on my best behaviour. Their instincts are to drive me away, but they both trust your judgement enough to fight their own.'

'Wow, that was impressive,' Hermione said. 'How did you pick up all of that in one drunken night?'

Draco sighed. 'Fine, I confess. Luna and I dissected the situation before and afterwards. A tiny part of that analysis might have come from her. She helped me side-step some potential mine fields, warned me not to mention Potter's childhood or Weasley's old pet rat. She might have played both sides though, because your goons didn't say anything clumsy or stupid either.'

Hermione laughed. 'Seems we're both pretty hopeless at this whole meeting-the-family thing. But it looks like our friends had our backs. What on Earth would we have done without Luna and Pansy? Teamwork all the way. We should bake them some cookies or something.'

'Mm. And deliver them all to Pansy with a clever note, to show we know they were conspiring together.'

'You think?' Hermione asked. 'Pansy and Luna?'

'Theodore let slip that they've been hanging out. And Pansy's been a bit too flamboyant in describing her sexual adventures lately. She's covering up for something.'

'Pansy and Luna,' Hermione said again, slowly. She thought her brain might snap. But somehow, there was a rightness to the thought. She would investigate later, but Luna was an excellent judge of character. She thought she might assemble one of those 'take-down' plans for Pansy though, just in case. Luna deserved all the love and happiness that the universe and Hermione could muster for her.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a dramatic cough from Draco.

'Hermione, would you have introduced me to them? The Grangers?'

She felt a pang, as always, but it was getting easier to think about them. She was happy about that- she wanted to think about them, to remember. She felt disloyal for avoiding the memories for so long.

'Yes,' she said. 'They would have had reservations, but they'd have liked you in the end. They were open-minded, open-hearted. And my mother always told me to find love that challenged me, not to get too comfortable.' It was easier to think of the Grangers in the past tense. For her, they were definitively in the past. She had run through all the scenarios in her head, but she had known from the start that she and the Wilkins' could have no contact, ever.

Draco drummed his fingers against the table. 'I would never have introduced you to my father as my girlfriend.'

'Oh,' she said quietly. She supposed she respected his honesty.

'If my father were alive, I would never have gone anywhere near you. I wouldn't have wanted to taint you with that connection. I would rather have been miserable and alone.'

'I wouldn't have cared,' Hermione said. She liked to think she wouldn't have cared. But deep down she knew there were some lines that were harder to cross than others. Would she have pursued Draco if Bellatrix Lestrange had survived the war? She couldn't say.

'I would have cared enough for the both of us.'

Hermione squeezed his hand. 'Enough of hypotheticals. We're together now, and that's all that matters. Let's bake some cookies.'

Hermione rarely cooked. She was busy with her research, and cooking meant not letting herself get distracted. It meant putting away whatever exciting puzzle she was working through in her mind, so that she wouldn't burn the apartment down. But she also liked to be prepared, so she had a well-stocked pantry, with all of the ingredients for making cookies ready to go. A good preservation spell was a Wizarding chef's best friend.

She and Draco moved smoothly through the kitchen together as they poured and mixed and stole bites of cookie dough. Draco pressed against her back as he reached for the top cupboard to retrieve the chocolate chips. Hermione brushed his chest with her hand as she reached across the bench for her mixing bowl. It took them forty minutes to mix a few simple ingredients together, and by the time the cookie tray was slid into the oven, they were both very riled up.

Hermione wiped away a smudge of flour from Draco's nose. 'Cute,' she said.

'I'll show you cute,' he growled, lifting her onto the only clean section of counter.

Their heated kissing was interrupted by a loud chime. Hermione pulled away, despite some strong resistance from Draco's hands and lips.

'The cookies,' she insisted.

'Let them burn,' he suggested.

'And be the witch who couldn't bake a simple batch of cookies? My culinary reputation can't take the hit.'

'It's already hit rock bottom, according to Potter's stories. He described your attempt at shepherd's pie in vivid detail.'

'I still think that was sabotage,' she said. 'Ginny was entirely too cheerful when it burst into flames.'

'Only because then she couldn't be forced to eat it.'

She pushed him away and slid off the bench. 'Well, despite your sabotage attempts, my cookies will be perfect.'

'Our cookies,' he said.

'Oh, are you sure you want to take any credit? I could bring you down with me.'

'Win or lose, we're in this together.'

Hermione pulled the tray out of the oven. 'Well, lucky for you, these cookies look perfect. Just like I said they would.' The 'so there' was only implied.

'Looks can be deceiving,' he said with a mocking laugh.

She took advantage of his open mouth to shove a cookie in it. 'Well?' she said.

'Ow, hot!' he complained, with a wounded look in her direction.

'You're the one that said 'let them burn,' I assumed you liked them hot. How does it taste?'

'Delicious,' he said, with an unflattering amount of surprise. 'We should keep these for ourselves.'

She shook her head. 'We can have two each. But the rest are for Pansy and Luna. And one each for Harry and Ginny. I need to spread around the proof of my first cooking success.'

'Our success,' Draco insisted.

'Fine,' she said, taking a bite of her own cookie. 'To teamwork,' she said, holding her free hand up -for a high-5.

'To teamwork,' he agreed, clapping his hand against hers, then using it to tug her in close. 'Now that the cookies are safe, can we try another kind of teamwork?'

And then her mouth was too busy to confess that she had promised Pansy weekly batches of cookies for the foreseeable future.