I don't own Harry Potter or make money off this crap. J.K. owns the entire earth. I also don't own any work of Joni Mitchell's.

AN: If I mentioned about Hermione and kids before in dialogue with one of the Malfoys ( I didn't think I had, but I can't be expected to keep this complicated drivel straight), sorry for the repeat. But I don't think it's a repeat. Maybe. I think all that stuff was either mentioned to Ginny, or with inner monologue type exposition. But again, I COULD BE WRONG.

Warning, no lemon. *sad face!!!*

The Weasleys were at the end of Hermione's driveway precisely at twelve forty-five, so they could be at the house precisely by one. Hermione and her household were all up and dressed and had been for hours, thankfully; though Draco and Lucius had decided to make themselves scarce and take care of things out at the barn while they waited for people to arrive. For her part, Hermione was in the kitchen with Harry and Ginny, bustling about at the counters, preparing some side dishes. Molly was bringing food as well, and between the two of them, Hermione felt certain the dinner would at least be a culinary success. Harry had arrived early so he could alter the wards to allow the Weasley clan in, and Ginny had come with him because she wanted to help Hermione with the food.

Hermione had originally been a bit annoyed with her friends for showing up early, but it turned out to be a good thing; since Ginny was able to catch the crockery Hermione nearly dropped when she felt the Weasley clan entering her property.

Harry glanced at her sharply. "Felt it again?"

Hermione caught herself on the edge of the island and shuddered some more. Ginny gave Harry a look that said, leave her the hell alone, which he ignored, as usual.

"Hermione?" He got up and walked over to her and Ginny sniffed, rolled her eyes, and carried the dish out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

Hermione waved him away. "I'm fine. And yes, I felt it. Don't be an idiot, Harry."

"But I toned the whole thing down- that's some first rate ward casting, Hermione. You shouldn't feel anything-"

"Well I am, alright?" she replied angrily and looked at him. Her face softened as she saw his eyes traveling over her scars and she sighed. "And yes, before you ask, they're fading again."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he replied and crossed his arms.

She smiled wearily at him. "I know. But we may as well get it out of the way now, before the wolves descend."

"My family are not wolves," Ginny said breezily, walking back into the kitchen. "And they won't say anything, either."

Hermione tossed her a look that Ginny returned with asperity and then she turned back to Harry.

"So, my magic is presenting itself and you want to lecture me about how in order to take care of it I have to start practicing again, right?"

"Hermione, I am an auror. I've seen the dangers that can arise when you aren't channeling your magic. Bad things can happen. You need a wand and you need to start practicing, working some of it off. Focusing the energy."

Hermione threw her hands up and turned to the other dishes, started handing more off to Ginny, who remained quiet.

"I'm not getting a wand, Harry. I refuse to go back to Diagon Alley, I'm not rejoining anything and the ministry can go jump in the Thames if they have a problem with that."

"Hermione, I have to report this."

Hermione whirled about. "Harry! Don't you dare, you…how can you even- you wouldn't!" she finished in a fierce whisper.

Harry's face was quite serious.

"I'll hold off a little longer, Hermione, but it's my responsibility. Especially since it's not just yourself. It's the safety of the Malfoys, of your animals- you have to think of them."

Her face was pale. "You don't honestly think I would ever hurt any of them-"

"You wouldn't mean to," Harry replied. "But I've seen it happen. You have to control this, Hermione. You need an outlet for it. Figure something out in the next couple days or I will."

His eyes roamed over her face, lingered on the scars again, and she reached up, touched the remaining ones. The skin was nearly smooth again, laced with pearly white scar tissue and a few angry red marks still; but it was much better than it had been, and it was obvious, even to the people in her village, that something was happening. Of course, all the muggles simply thought she was undergoing some treatments, finally.

She wished desperately that it was as simple as that. It would have made her life right then, with Harry watching her knowingly and Ginny sneaking glances at her, that much easier.

Instead, she nodded her head, took a deep breath. She felt Ginny put her arm about her shoulders and leaned against the other woman.

"Alright," she murmured to no one in particular. "I'll think about it. Just…give me a day to absorb it, please?"

Harry nodded as well. "I'm sorry for doing this to you, Hermione."

She gave a bitter laugh. "You haven't done anything to me, Harry Potter. Besides, you're just doing your job. I appreciate your concern, really. I should have been considering all this anyway."

"I can still be sorry for it," Harry replied. "And I'm not asking you to rejoin the wizarding world. All you'd need to do is just practice some spell casting a few times a week, out in the middle of field, if that's what you preferred. You don't have to make it a part of your life."

"But it would be there," she replied. "Once I start again, it won't go away. I just…let's not talk about it anymore. I can't handle it right now. Please?"

Harry nodded sadly and gave her a brief hug before she turned away and busied herself with the food again. Ginny stood by her, shooing Harry from the room with a look. Then she hugged her friend again.

"There's a lot you can't handle right now, isn't there?" she murmured and Hermione shook her head, drew back.

"I don't want to talk about that, either," she murmured. "He and I…we're fine the way things are. There's nothing to say; besides which, your family is going to be here any minute and…"

Her voice trailed off as she looked over Ginny's shoulder to the doorway of the kitchen. Lucius and Draco had just come in and Draco was filling the doorway, gazing at them both, a question on his face.

Hermione met his gaze uncertainly and then turned away, hands fluttering over the food. Heart fluttering in her chest.

Ginny turned around to see him as well, watching Hermione as if she would disappear if he looked away, face full of everything he felt. She looked back to her friend, still trying to ignore him. Then she lifted another dish and held it out to Draco.

"Help me with these," she said and he looked at the dish in her hands strangely. His brow cleared a minute later and his gaze turned grateful.

"Happy to," he said and took the dish from her, walking back out to the dining room. Ginny cast one more suspicious, sad glance at Hermione and then followed him.

Hermione had about a second of peace before someone was knocking on her front door and there was the sound of children asking questions and adults chatting cordially and cautious footsteps. She looked up, stared out her kitchen window to the barn. A series of emotions ran across her face and she gripped the edge of the countertop tightly, willing her hands to stop trembling.

Then she thought of the happiest memory she had- that lazy afternoon at a barn when she'd been a small girl; and pasted a smile on her face; and pushed the kitchen door open, ready to cross through the living room and greet her guests, and old friends.

Three hours later and the Weasley clan was still there, although far more spread about the house than before. Bill, Arthur, and Draco were seated in the living room, discussing muggle politics while Lucius helped Fleur and Molly with the dishes and children in the kitchen. George and Angelina had accosted Harry and Ginny, respectively, and were grilling each about their swiftly mending relationship. Charlie had asked Hermione's permission to check out her horses. And Hermione, herself…she was taking a break. She'd managed to sneak away onto the back porch, on the pretense of shaking out the tablecloth, although they hadn't used a tablecloth. But no one had seemed to notice.

So now she was sitting on the bench Lucius had inhabited so stolidly just a few short weeks ago. So much had happened since they'd first arrived…excitement, danger, truths, kisses, magic, romance. Well. Maybe not that last bit. And now…she had a party of dinner guests the size of which her humble farmhouse hadn't seen in half a century, most likely.

It was all a bit overwhelming, though not necessarily in a bad way.

The back door creaked open and Victoire ran out onto the porch, then over to Hermione. Hermione gave the little girl a somewhat stiff smile. The children were the hardest part to deal with. All those brilliant babies, looking so much like their parents…and Ginny and Harry exchanging secret smiles all the while, letting her know what they intended. It was terribly unfair. Hermione was happy that her friend would have that chance, but it still made her own heart ache. She should have been part of that family, after all. She and Ron should have…and instead they couldn't, that opportunity torn from them- from her; and then she wasn't even able to marry him like the proud bride she knew Ginny would be someday…

She sighed and scooted over on the bench. Victoire took the invitation happily and climbed up beside her.

Hermione was silent and after a minute Victoire spoke.

"Are you hiding?" she said.

Hermione smiled again. "Sort of," she admitted.

"You're terrible at it," Victoire informed her. "Mister Malfoy knew you were here."

"Did he?" Hermione murmured and looked down at the bright blond head.

"Uh-huh."

"So he told your mum and she sent you on out?"

Victoire shook her head.

"No? Then what happened?"

"He told me," she said in a low voice, leaning towards Hermione. She scooted over a bit more and snuggled up next to her.

"I remember you," she told the older witch. Hermione was touched. She'd only last seen Victoire when she was, oh, no older than three. And now she was already five, nearly six.

"You do?"

"You sang me a lullaby. Maman only knows the tune. She sings it sometimes." Victoire hummed a few bars and Hermione felt her heart turning tightly in on itself.

"That's not a lullaby," Hermione informed her seriously and finally gave in to the girl's snuggling by slipping an arm behind her shoulders.

"It isn't?"

"No, not really. It's a song about life," she explained.

"Will you sing it again?"

"Oh, it's been a long time…"

"Please?" Victoire pleaded with her and Hermione smiled down at her fondly. Her heart ached more, if that was possible.

"Well, alright. Just a little."

Victoire settled back against her and smiled happily, waiting for her treat. Hermione cleared her throat, tested out a few notes. Then she started to sing the words very softly.

"Bows and flows of angel hair…and ice cream castles in the air…and feather canyons, everywhere…" She paused, blinked back tears, took a breath. "I've…looked at clouds, that way. But…now they only block the sun. They rain and snow on…everyone. So many things I…would've done-"

Her voice trailed off and she swallowed hard, closing her eyes against the tears. Victoire shifted beside her.

"Miss Hermione?" She pronounced the name in the French manner and Hermione felt absolutely transported back to everything that had come before. The Tri-Wizard Tournament. Long days at Hogwarts. Friendship that overcame anything. Harry's stubbornness, Ron's temper. And always, her parents there to ground her to the muggle world with their proud faces, their support. Her father's sense of discipline. Her mother's secret love of Joni Mitchell. The belief that their daughter could and would go on to do anything her heart desired…

She held Victoire to her tighter for a brief moment, reveling in the memories and hating them at the same time; then abruptly let go, though she placed a gentle hand on the girl's head.

"I'll have to…sing it for you another time, Victoire. I'm sorry. Do you mind?"

Victoire climbed off the bench and shook her head solemnly. "No. Maybe I can come back with Maman and Papa. Will you sing it next time? Please?"

"I will," Hermione murmured. "I promise."

"Did I make you feel bad?"

"No, Victoire. It's not your fault. Please don't worry about me."

Victoire continued to look up at her solemnly and then stood on tiptoe, putting her hands on Hermione's legs and reaching up to her. Hermione leaned over and Victoire placed a kiss on either cheek.

"Please don't feel bad, Miss Hermione."

"Ok. Thank you, Victoire. Go on back inside, now."

Victoire nodded and raced back over to the door. Hermione's eyes followed her and she saw Draco standing there, holding the door open. He put a hand on Victoire's head as she passed and the little girl smiled up at him before dashing inside. Then he lifted his eyes to Hermione's.

She found it impossible to hold in her tears any longer and hunched over further, hair falling over her face, hiding her pain.

"So you sent her out," she muttered and Draco hesitated, then shut the door and walked over to her.

"I just thought someone should check on you," he murmured. "I didn't expect it to upset you."

"Children always will, to a certain degree," she replied. "It's not your fault, or theirs. It's just how it is. I expect if I spend more time with them it will get easier."

"Is that why you only run those classes once a week? Not just because it's a strain to be around people, but because of…"

"That they're children? Yes, that's part of it." She sniffed and sat up, wiping at her cheeks. He sat down beside her cautiously, eyes never leaving her. She didn't look to him.

"Why children?" he said. "Or shouldn't I-"

"No, you can ask," she said. "It's not really a secret. I…can't have children," she finished, voice breaking slightly. She wiped her cheeks again.

"Never?"

"Like I'd be a fit mother in the first place," she said wryly.

"I think you'd be a brilliant mother," Draco responded softly. She finally looked at him and saw he was completely serious. She glanced away again.

"Anyway, that's the last of my secrets, I promise," she said and stood up. She sat back down again immediately. Her legs were far too shaky. Draco ran a finger along the back of her hand. When she didn't brush it away, he slowly slid his hand over hers, lacing his fingers through her own. She looked down at their hands and made a face- but it wasn't a bad look.

It was her trying to keep from crying again.

He brought her hand up to his mouth and laid a kiss on her palm before lowering it again and wrapping his other hand about it, squeezing it gently. She exhaled sharply and rolled her eyes, but a second later she leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

Neither of them said a word, just looked out over the backyard- the garden, the fields and hills, the barn in the distance. Sounds filtered from the house- dishes clanking, being washed, loud conversation, laughter, pleasant whispers, the shuffle of feet, the occasional cry of a child. But the silence between Draco and Hermione passed for the greatest understanding, and the sun continued its slow descent to the Western horizon.

An hour later, after everything had been put back in order; and Molly had thrust a multitude of leftovers upon Hermione; and the miniature Weasley families had already left, with a promise to come again; and Hermione had reassured Harry not to worry about redoing the wards; and Ginny had taken the old dining set away. Long after dinner, Hermione finally stood out front with Harry and Molly and Arthur, chatting one last time. Harry had pulled Hermione aside to reassure her that Zabini had reached the continent and was speeding along towards Russia, which was why she'd insisted that he not worry about resetting the wards. They were still protected, and the Weasleys expected to come back again. He sighed and agreed.

"As long as you're alright with it. And where are the Malfoys?"

"Oh, they're about-"

Arthur approached them, Molly hurrying along behind. "Just said goodbye to them, ourselves. I say, Hermione, Lucius really has changed, hasn't he?"

"In some ways," Hermione replied. She looked closely at the couple. "Were you just threatening them?"

"Er, not at all-"

"A little bit, perhaps?" Molly said. "But oh, come now. You can't expect us to see you after all this time and not try and take care of you, can you, dear? Of course not. Oh, Hermione-" The older witch pulled Hermione into a sudden, tight embrace. "We've missed you so much, dear."

Arthur gave a cough and Molly pulled away finally, letting him hug Hermione warmly as well.

"That we have. And I hope you'll come see us again now, as well."

"Oh, I…"

"Nonsense, of course she will. And we'll come see her. Oh, my dear-"

Hermione found herself crushed in another hug. She looked over Molly's shoulder at Harry, who merely shrugged helplessly. When she finally pulled away again, Hermione gave them her most apologetic look.

"It really is getting late- I need to take care of my horses now. Thank you so much for coming. It really was wonderful-"

"Well, actually, we have one other thing we wanted to speak with you about," Molly murmured. She looked over at Arthur, who nodded and motioned with one hand. Hermione looked at them both curiously.

"About…?"

Molly glanced at Arthur again and then pulled a long, slender box from her shoulder bag.

"Well, Hermione, dear. I don't know quite how to put this, except…"

Arthur spoke up. "When Ronald…passed on, he left- that is, Molly and I-"

"We weren't sure what to do with some of his things. Of course, the money went to you through Gringotts and all that was taken care of," Molly said, clearly struggling to speak of it all. Hermione felt as though she wanted to run back to the house and slam the door in both their faces.

Instead, she tried to focus on their words and not look as if she was about to be ill.

Arthur picked it up again.

"Molly and I took his things for you, if you recall. Because-"

"And we were happy to," Molly interrupted. She pressed a handkerchief to her eyes and then held the box out. "But when Ginny told us how you were, and then Harry mentioned you as well and now, with this dinner…"

"We really feel it's time we give this to you," Arthur finished for her, gesturing at the box. "Go on, Hermione. Please. It was yours anyway, by the terms of the will. This and the money."

Hermione hesitated and looked to Harry, who was staring at the box with a strange look upon his face.

"I'm sorry," Hermione murmured. "But what is it?"

"It's Ronald's wand," Molly said in a teary voice. "The one he purchased new once you all…came back. His prized possession. You remember?"

Hermione nodded slowly and then gingerly reached her hands out and took the box from Molly. So, Ron had left her his wand.

"Why?" she asked.

Arthur looked at her kindly. "He always wanted you to take it up again, Hermione. But after he…passed, we knew you wouldn't want it. You weren't ready for it. But Molly and I talked yesterday and we thought that perhaps you should have it now."

"But…"

"I don't think he expected you to use it, Hermione," Molly murmured through her tears. "But you know as well as any of us how much a wizard's wand is a part of him. And Ron wanted you to have his."

Hermione's hands shook as she held the box. She looked up to Molly and Arthur and tried to smile for them.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I…thanks."

"Of course, dear," Molly murmured and hugged a stiff Hermione one last time. Then she and Arthur started down the drive, leaving Hermione staring at the box in her hands.

Harry watched her carefully for a minute or so.

"Are you going to be alright?" he finally asked. She shook her head.

"Yeah. Fine. Brilliant," she murmured, choking on the last word.

"I can stay-"

"Just go, Harry," Hermione whispered. Her hands were still shaking. Harry put a hand on her shoulder, leaned in and kissed her temple. Then he gave her shoulder a squeeze and started away as well.

Only once they were all out of sight did Hermione allow her feelings to bubble to the surface. Her hands tightened about the box, shaking badly now, and her lips trembled from holding back tears.

Without warning, she gave a scream and threw the box to the ground. It opened and the wand went clattering away over the dirt and pebbles. She screamed again for good measure, staring hatefully at the shiny stick that hadn't saved Ron's life anymore than it had saved hers.

"I don't want it!" she yelled at the sky. "I don't want your fucking stupid wand, you imbecile! I wanted you-" And her voice broke with rage and tears as she collapsed to her knees in the drive, just feet away from the offensive wand.

And that was where Lucius found her, thirty minutes later, sobbing in the dirt and pounding the ground with her fists; and where he called to Draco to come and help him; and where they left the wand lying as they took Hermione into the house in the growing dusk.

AN: See? I mentioned Zabini. Nyah.