I hope you enjoy!

"Nice office, Granger."

Hermione looked up from the large desk in her new office and found Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway. With her new role, her office was now inside the Minister's suite, down the hall from Draco. When Kingsley took over, he created new offices and roles to give greater transparency to the public in an attempt to fix corrupt image it carried for the past several years. Draco was one of the Minister's policy advisors, just as Hermione now was. He took new policies that the Minister wanted developed, analyzed them, and then added the legalities. The relationship between Draco, Harry, and Ron was cordial, but as Hermione and Draco's paths crossed many times with her old job and now her new job, they were a bit friendlier to each other.

"Do you need something?" Hermione asked, leaning back in her chair.

He shook his head. "I heard you were back at work this week."

"In the flesh," she mocked. "I still have that awful cane, but that was the deal in coming back to work a month early. How's Astoria?"

Draco nodded towards her visitor's chair, and waited for Hermione to wave him inside. Shutting the door, he took a seat across from her and held his hands together. "She's actually why I'm here. The Remembrance Ball is in three weeks, and I overheard Weasley telling Potter in the cafeteria after your accident that you were still not keen on coming because you uh, couldn't find a suitable dress."

Hermione gave a short nod. "If I go, I'm going to have to be dressed like Professor McGonagall, because it's the only way to hide my scars, and no offense to her - but she and I are not one in the same when it comes to choosing apparel."

"Well, my wife may be able to assist you in that," Draco quietly replied. "She designs dresses. It used to just be a hobby, but she's been studying Muggle designs, and well, she's decided that the wizarding world needs a serious facelift when it comes to witch fashions."

Hermione laughed a little. "Is that so?"

"It's her hobby…I don't argue with it," Draco replied. "It makes her happy."

"You sound like a decent husband, Draco."

Draco cracked a rare smile. "She's a pretty amazing wife. I figure decent is the least I can do." He sat up a little straighter, but kept his hands clasped together. "But anyway, I mentioned this to her, and she thinks she might be able to help."

"Draco, I couldn't -"

"Granger, she really wants to," Draco interjected. "And while I know nothing about women's fashion - I do know that Pansy loves everything my wife makes, and she's the most hard to please woman on the planet."

Hermione stifled a giggle. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt to give it a try. It's not like I'm finding anything else and both Ron and Harry say I need to go this year."

"Astoria says the same thing to me," Draco replied with a groan. "I just hate them, you know?"

"Being gawked at not your thing?"

"Absolutely not."

Hermione sighed. "Believe me, I agree with you. But Harry says if I go I can avoid them for a few more years."

"At least until the 10th anniversary. That's my plan, at least." Draco stood up from the chair and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Anyway, can I tell my wife that she's free to owl you?"

She nodded. "Certainly. Tell her I said thank you. I appreciate her offer."

"Well, I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you that you're about to make her week," Draco replied, giving her a final nod before turning on a heel and retreating back to his office.

Ron had been working at George's shop now for the past week. Or, well, it was his and George's shop now that the ink was dry on all the paperwork. The first day, he was nervous that he'd made the wrong choice, but a few hours into his day, and then every day after that reminded him why he took the job in the first place. He and his brother had developed a strong bond over the past five years, and while he liked working for the Ministry, he loved working with George. He also made a lot more money working for George than he did at the Ministry, but that was just an extra perk. He had plenty of money in his Gringotts vault, and if he had to, would work with George for free.

Another perk of the job was getting home at the same time as Hermione. However, as he exited the floo of his house, an overly excited dog didn't bombard him. "Hermione!" he called out.

"Upstairs!" he heard her voice faintly call out.

He made his way upstairs and found Hermione in her office, sitting on the sofa looking at large prints of something. "Hey love, you're home early."

She raised her sore leg slightly and frowned. "It was bothering me today, so I came home early. Kingsley thinks I should consider working from home for a bit."

He took a seat next to her on the sofa and kissed her temple. "Funny. I think I said the same thing."

"Oh stop," she fussed. "Look at these."

He picked up one of the thick black pieces of what felt like thin cardboard, and looked at the dresses drawn on bright white paper. "They look nice. Who made them?"

"Draco's wife," Hermione said, shuffling through the five different looks. "Draco spoke with me on Monday and said she would like to make me a dress for the Remembrance Ball."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Why in the bloody hell would she do that?"

"Because Draco told her he heard you tell Harry I didn't want to go and why I didn't want to go, and making dresses is apparently a passion of hers," Hermione said. "They're all quite lovely, really. And look - they're mostly all made with this boat neck scoop and long sleeves without looking matronly."

He continued to frown. "I don't know how I feel about this, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. "We aren't in school anymore, Ron. This wasn't done with any malicious intent. I know the three of you tolerate each other but Draco and I work together rather frequently, and he is always polite." She looked at another dress, then back to the one in her hand. "Besides. If this works, and she's able to make something for me to wear to the wedding."

"Absolutely not!" he exclaimed, leaping off the couch. "You cannot get married in a dress made by a Malfoy!"

"Oh for heaven's sake Ron!" she shouted back at him, loud enough to catch Chudley's attention as he napped in the window seat. "You are being ridiculous! These are beautiful dresses and she was kind enough to help me - and you - you don't even hate him anymore! I know you aren't best friends - but I do know every now and then you and Harry will sit at the same lunch table with him in the cafeteria and not because there aren't any other tables left to sit at." She stood up, grabbed the drawings, and with her cane.

"That doesn't mean -"

"Doesn't mean what, Ronald?"

"Just because I'm nice to the bloke doesn't mean I don't think he's still a git - because I do. He's Malfoy."

Hermione ruefully laughed. "You want me to go to this bloody ball. This stupid celebration that I don't even think should happen because people died in the process. Every year the Ministry throws this party and we shout and say hooray - there's no more Voldemort and the threat of ever having another war like that is essentially non-existent. Then the silent auctions happen and money is raised and everyone thanks Harry and makes him incredibly uncomfortable but you know what doesn't happen at these events? No one acknowledges what we should really be remembering. We shouldn't remember that five years ago, the right side won. We should remember everyone that died to get us there - and not with just some shallow thirty second bit of silence!"

"Well excuse me if I don't want the Malfoy name associated with anything that has to do with our wedding!" Ron shouted back. He waited for her to say something else back, but instead, she turned around, leaned on her cane, and hobbled out of her office. "Where are you going?"

"I don't want to be in the same room as you right now," she said, not even bothering to look at him. Chudley leapt off of the window seat and caught up with Hermione, clearly prepared to follow her wherever she was going. She stopped at the doorway, her head down, and sighed. "I will just find someone else to make my dress. Both of them."

Ron could hear the disappointment in her voice, and it hit him in the gut like a ton of bricks. "Hermione, I'm -"

"Just don't, Ron," Hermione quietly replied. "Just don't."

Later that night, after separate dinners, Hermione took a pain potion and retired to bed early. Once she was asleep, Ron went into their room to check on her, pulling her book away and marking it before placing it on the nightstand. Kissing her forehead, he pulled the covers over her and saw the dress portraits lying on his side of the bed. Chudley was also lying on his side of the bed; his head perched on Hermione's side, looking up at him as if he were daring Ron to make him move.

He ruffled his head and scratched his ears. "You're a good dog, Chudley," he whispered. Grabbing the sketches, he kissed Hermione's forehead once more and left the room. He flooed over to Harry and Ginny's house, walking into their living room to find the two of them watching the telly. Teddy was asleep, leaning against Ginny as she sat on the couch knitting while James was asleep against Harry's chest as he slowly rocked in the recliner. "Hey he said quietly. "Wild night?"

Ginny laughed. "It was movie night - and it just ended. Where's Hermione?"

"Um, asleep," he said, scratching the back of his head.

Harry knew that look anywhere. He shifted James slightly and gave his best friend the look. "Oh bloody hell. What did you do?"

Ron sighed. He held up the dress portraits and handed them over to Ginny as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. "Malfoy's wife -"

"She has a name, Ron," Ginny interrupted. "Don't act like you don't know what it is."

He huffed. "Fine. Astoria offered to make Hermione a dress for the Remembrance Ball, and I kind of, well…"

"Went mental because she's married to Malfoy." Harry answered for him.

"Well - the Remembrance Ball is one thing - but then Hermione said that if she liked it then maybe Astoria could make the dress for the wedding and -"

Ginny, without waking Teddy, leaned over and gave her brother a smack upside the head. "You are an idiot, Ron. How is it that you've been Hermione's best friend for the majority of her life and not realize that she would react the way she did? For heaven's sake!"

He hung his head and sighed. "She's really mad at me."

"Well of course she is!" Ginny hissed. She put down her knitting and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over Teddy as she stroked his purple hair. "Are those the sketches?" she asked, nodding towards the portraits in his hand.

He nodded, and handed them over.

She filtered through them, sighed, and leaned over to smack Ron once more.

"Damn it, Ginny!" Ron harshly whispered. "Stop hitting me!"

"These dresses are perfect for Hermione!" Ginny quietly cried. "Every one of them screams Hermione. How could you…you're such an idiot some times, Ron."

He covered his face in his hands and stifled a groan. "I know they are," he confessed, though his words were muffled. "And what's worse is that I don't think she's mad at me - I think she's more disappointed with me and that is definitely worse." By the time he uncovered his face, he could see Harry looking at the dress sketches, subtly shaking his head. "I'm a terrible person."

"You aren't a terrible person," Harry said, handing the sketches back to his wife.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Stupid and terrible are two different things."

Ron gave his sister the finger, making her laugh. "Piss off, Ginny."

"Look," she said, her tone a little more forgiving. "Hermione's scars…they're different than yours - and Harry's. Your splinching scar will never be in public uncovered, and Harry used to keep his hair looking like a shaggy mop so that people couldn't see the scar on his forehead. It's hotter than hell outside and Hermione wears shirts with sleeves past her elbows, and she never wears shorts anymore. She always has on tights or thick nylons when she wears a skirt, and won't swim in front of anyone but us."

"But her scars don't matter to me!" Ron cried. "They only show how strong she is!"

"Someone sees a scar of yours, or Harry's, or they look at George's lack of an ear and Bill's face and they're in awe. They assume it's associated with being manly and brave. A badge of honor. Scars on a woman are different. It's 'poor you' and 'how awful to have those forever.' Hermione wants a Muggle wedding, and doesn't want people to ask questions. You think Hermione wants to wear a dress that covers everything? Of course she doesn't! She wants to feel beautiful and that's hard to do in a frock but these - these are stunning, Ron. These are beautiful, elegant, and sexy. Who gives a damn who designed it?"

Ron leaned back into the couch and sighed. "But why does it have to be a Malfoy?"

"Why can't you look at this as a 'look how far we've come' moment?" Harry suggested. "I mean, in a million years, did you ever think Malfoy's wife would ever do something like this. And how did she even know Hermione was looking?"

Ron's cheeks blushed. "Malfoy overheard us talking about Hermione not wanting to go in the cafeteria at the Ministry…right after I came back to work after her accident. I guess he told his wife and she offered."

"So it was Draco's idea then?" Ginny asked. "Well - for heaven's sake - if that doesn't prove to you that he's done being an ass, I don't know what will."

Harry looked at his best friend and sighed. "You need to apologize to her, and tell her it's ok. You know she won't let Astoria make her a dress if you're going to be this way about it." He kissed the top of his son's head and gave his back a soothing rub with a hand. "It's just a dress, Ron. She would look beautiful in any of them."

"Well of course she would!" Ron exclaimed as loudly as he possibly could with two sleeping children in the room.

"Then tell her that," Harry said.

"What if she's still mad?"

"Look - we aren't in Hogwarts anymore," Harry said as he carefully stood up with James in his arms. Do what you always do when she's mad at you now - snog her senseless and be done with it."

Ron thought about going back home, but when he left Harry and Ginny's house, he glanced at his watch and decided that it wasn't too terribly late to make one more visit. Disapparating from the front porch, he found himself in the Wiltshire countryside, at the gates of Malfoy Manor. The place still gave him the creeps, but at least he knew nothing bad would happen. The gates no longer had wards to keep people out, and the only three people in the home outside of the elves were Draco, his wife, and his mother. His father had about three more months on his Azkaban sentence before returning home.

Walking up to the front door, he rang the bell and waited, before greeted by an elf that looked about as grumpy as Kreacher on his best day - and Kreacher never had a best day.

"Um, hello," Ron said, nodding to the elf. "I was um, wondering if maybe Astoria Malfoy was still awake."

"Madam Malfoy is indeed awake," the elf said. "May I ask who is calling on her?"

"Ron Weasley," he said.

The elf ushered him inside the home and popped out of sight. A few moments later, Draco and Astoria appeared. "Hello Ron," Astoria said with a smile, extending her hand for Ron to shake. She noticed her portraits under his arm and frowned. "Did Hermione not like the dresses?"

Ron shook his head. "She loved them," he said. "I was um, I was just wondering if maybe I could ask you a favor."

Astoria's demeanor brightened. She smiled at Draco, who shook his head at his wife - suppressing a smile of his own - and looked back at Ron. "Certainly."

"Do you make other things? Other than dresses? Like, girl shirts and stuff?"

"They're called blouses, Weasley," Draco drawled.

"Well excuse me for not being up to date on terminology regarding women's apparel," Ron sarcastically replied.

Astoria rolled her eyes. "Draco only knows that word because I make clothes. Don't let him fool you. But yes - I make other things."

He scratched the back of his head and took in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. "So, I'd like you to make all of these dresses for Hermione. Just don't tell her you're doing it. I'm sure she'll tell you which one she wants you to make for the ball," he continued, shuffling through the portraits until he found the one he was looking for, "but don't let her pick this one."

Astoria took the sketch from Ron's hands. "Why not this dress?"

"Because I want you to do it in ivory and make it her wedding dress," he quietly said, chewing the inside of his cheek. He couldn't tell what the material was or anything like that based on the picture, but the tiered rows that made up the skirt reminded him of the dress she wore to the ball in fourth year. When he saw her in that dress, it was the first time he had the realization hit him in regards to just how beautiful she was. "That is, if you'd be willing to make her wedding dress."

Clapping her hands together, Astoria let out a squeal of glee and flung herself at Ron, giving him a gigantic hug before letting go. "Really! Oh Draco darling! Isn't this wonderful!"

Draco nodded, sighing as he wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "It's splendid, dear." He nodded towards Ron as he handed Astoria the other sketches. "I figured you'd object."

"Yeah, well, I might have had a moment," Ron confessed. "Which is why I need the other favor. I want you to make the other dresses, so that Hermione has something to choose from when we have these sorts of events…and I was wondering if you might be interested when you take her measurements if you could use those same measurements to make her other clothes."

Astoria's eyes were wide. "Are you serious! Really!"

He nodded. "I reckon I realized a bit late as to why she dresses the way she does. I used to think it was because she's always wanting to look overly professional, but it's really to cover up the scars, from um, well -"

"The torture in this house?" Draco offered plainly.

"Part of it," Ron added. "She's covered in them, and I know she knows I think she's beautiful, but I think she might like some clothing that, well…"

"Makes her feel confident?" Astoria offered.

"Oh she's plenty confident," Draco said with a laugh. "You just want her to wear something she feels good in."

"Uh…yeah," Ron said, stunned he was agreeing with his former nemesis, and that he understood what he was trying to say. "So if you could do that - and I don't care the cost - it would mean the world to me."

"I will work on sketches tonight!" Astoria exclaimed. She handed the sketch back to Ron and smiled. "Just tell Hermione to owl me and I will come to your home and do her measurements. I can't imagine she'd come here."

"And honestly, nothing against either of you, but I'd prefer it that way," Ron replied. "She has triggers…"

Draco and Astoria both nodded. "I look forward to getting her owl," Astoria said with a smile. "Thank you so much for letting me do this."

Ron shook her hand again, and then Draco's. "Thank you for doing it. You can just come by tomorrow if you aren't doing anything. Hermione's been resting on the weekends with her leg and such. Also - sorry for coming so late."

"We're night owls anyway," Draco replied.

With a final goodbye, Ron left Malfoy Manor and apparated back to his house.

"You didn't come to bed last night."

"That's your dog's fault."

Hermione, sitting up in bed that next morning, looked over at Chudley. He didn't appear to be sorry at all as she scratched the top of his head. "All you have to do is tell him to move."

Ron laughed as he walked out of the doorway that connected their room to the master bath. He tried that several times when he came home but he didn't budge. He supposed that Chudley was aware of how angry Hermione was at him, and took that as a reason to stay put in bed. "Yeah…can't say he was listening last night. I don't blame him though. I was an ass."

Hermione yawned, and then crossed her arms against her chest. It was a quarter 'til eight. "Yes," she said. "You were."

"I'm sorry…for going mental about Malfoy's wife wanting to help you," Ron quietly apologized. "And you were right about everything that you said and you're right - Malfoy and I don't necessarily hate each other anymore." He sat down on the edge of Hermione's side of the bed and reached for a hand. "But what Malfoy and I are to each other…I mean, look. I don't have a good way to explain it. I don't care that we can work together. When you're involved, my reflex is to just -"

"Turn into an overprotective lunatic?" Hermione offered.

"Basically," Ron replied, unapologetic with his fiancée's assessment. "And I'm always going to be that way when it comes to you. I can't help it. I just…I know Malfoy is different. And his wife is a perfectly nice person. But I'm never going to be able to completely disassociate Malfoy from what happened to you in that house. It's never going to happen."

Hermione sighed and gave his hand a squeeze. "Draco was never going to be able to stop what happened to me without getting tortured - or worse - killed."

"I don't care."

"But you should," she argued. "You don't know half the horrors he saw in that house. I know for a fact that what happened to me was mild in terms of what he'd seen."

"How so?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We work together, Ron. Before we started our first assigned project together a few years back, he apologized to me, and we talked for hours about all sorts of things. He brings me lunch when he notices I haven't left my office to eat. He always checked in on me when he knew you were out on an auror mission and when you quit going on them, and I told him about it, he was just as glad as I was. He knew how worried I would get over something terrible happening to you."

Ron frowned. "What the hell? Why are you just now telling me this?"

"Are you kidding me?" Hermione answered with a question, waving a hand at his general disposition. "You, right now, is exactly why I never said anything."

"Why in the bloody hell is he trying to take care of you?"

"I would hardly call brining me lunch every once in awhile as taking care of me," Hermione argued. "We are friendly at work, because we work a lot together. I've forgiven him for his past transgressions, and you should too."

Ron snorted. "And why in the bloody hell would I do that?"

"Because if I wasn't as forgiving as I am, you and I wouldn't exist as a couple."

Sighing, his shoulders dropped and his head ducked. He wasn't going to argue that point, because he was all too aware of the number of times he'd screwed up and had been forgiven. "I'm not going to apologize for caring too much, even if it comes out as me being an overprotective lunatic."

"Just like I'm not going to apologize for calling you out on it," Hermione replied. She tugged on his hand and Ron moved, Chudley leaping out of the bed as Ron crawled over so that she could cuddle up next to him. Her hand slid up underneath the thin white t-shirt he wore and stopped as soon as her open palm found his heartbeat. "But if it really does mean that much to you, I will ask someone else to make my dress. I'm not saying your logic is right, but I also don't want you to look at me all night at this ball and only be able to think about who made my dress."

Ron sighed, and kissed the top of her head. He never slept well without her, and didn't realize how tired he really was until he was flat on his back next to her. "I went to Malfoy's house last night and asked Astoria personally to make your dress. She'll probably be here later this morning to take your measurements."

"Really?" Hermione asked, her voice hopeful as she looked up at him.

He nodded. "I just…I guess I forget sometimes that while I love you exactly the way you are, I'm not you, and not everyone sees you the way that I see you. I reckon if I were a girl, I wouldn't want anyone to see my scars either, and I…I just want you to be happy, and to feel as beautiful as I think you are every day, regardless of what you look like."

She leaned upright just enough to kiss his lips before nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. "Thank you," she mumbled. "I love you."

"I love you too," he promised. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

She kissed his neck. "I forgive you. What time did you say Astoria would be here?"

"Later today," Ron said before yawning. "Probably after lunch or close to it."

"So we have time for a nap?"

He nodded. "Definitely."