A/N: This one was based on a comment from a fictionalfinesse on AO3.

"All right," Hermione breathed a harried sigh "We've got all of your cousins listed, obviously. Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, along with Teddy Lupin, are the only ones I can think of that aren't actually related at this point that we'd need to send invitations to. Is there anybody else you can think of, darling?"

Hugo regarded her with a furrowed brow, all of the solemn contemplation his (almost) five years could muster. And then, finally, he spoke.

"Evie?"

Hermione stilled, and she heard Ron swear softly behind her.

"I…"

How did one go about explaining to their five year old that those set to gather at the Burrow might not take kindly to the daughter of a somewhat war criminal playing with all of the other children in the back garden? It took her less than a moment to realise that one did not. Mainly because doing so then meant explaining why they were taking that out on a shy little girl who had done nothing wrong. Instead, she turned to Ron and frowned, the question plain on her face.

"I'll speak to mum," he sighed.

Sitting on the patio of the Burrow, surrounded by people who automatically despised anybody with the surname Malfoy wasn't actually as awkward as Marilyn feared it would be. Evie had been delighted to see Hermione and Harry's kids and hadn't sensed any of the awkwardness in all of her childhood cheer, and whatever opinions those gathered may have had, they didn't take them out on her children, which was all she really cared about. The fact that they didn't take them out on her was just an added bonus.

"The present is in the bag on my arm - you'll have to take it from me," she greeted Hermione with a tired smile, extending said arm so she could do just that "Nothing that flashes, sings, or makes too much noise. You're welcome."

Hermione laughed and accepted the sparkly purple bag from her, placing it with the impressive pile by the doorway before turning her attention to the baby sleeping soundly pressed against Marilyn's chest.

"I'm guessing you've named him by now?" she asked "I can't believe it's been three months. I kept asking about visiting but Draco said you've been exhausted."

"I don't know if it's because there are two of them now or if it's just my body's way of saying enough, but I doubt there'll be a third," Marilyn admitted "But that's fine, he's perfect. They both are."

"And his name…?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry - Caelum," Marilyn hummed, and then laughed at the look of confusion that Hermione tried and failed to cover "We broke the constellation convention with Evie's name, but Draco wanted to at least give a nod back to it now. It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel to me at first, but it was that or something like Pyxis or Triangulum, once you rule out all of the names who happen to be shared by his less than savoury ancestors…I like it. It suits him. My Muggle friends think success has gone to my head, though - that I'm following that famous idiot trend when it comes to daft names."

"Caelum Malfoy," Hermione repeated "As far as Wizarding names tend to go, it's really not that strange. The chisel, isn't it?"

"Mm. He and his sister are going to have to do a lot of that - carving out their own way and all."

"You and Draco have set a good example for them to follow, though."

Marilyn smiled despite her tiredness "Thanks, Hermione."

"Thank you," Hermione shrugged "I never thought I'd say anything like that in my life. Not concerning him, at least."

"We aim to baffle," she shrugged, glancing around the room to the people who were pretending not to stare at her "And we succeed, apparently."

"Yes. Well. I'm sorry, but I need to get back to playing hostess. Will you be okay here? If you speak to people I'm sure they'll…"

Marilyn laughed "I'm fine. I don't need somebody to stick to, don't worry. I have my little mascot here."

"I watched you for a while, you know," a woman with hair almost as blonde as Draco's sat down beside her not long after Hermione left her side.

"…Onstage?" Marilyn blinked.

"No - before you knew about our world."

"Ah. My secret security detail," she murmured.

"Yes. You had nice coats back then."

"But not anymore?"

"I'd need to meet you again in winter to know."

"Thank you - for the help, back then. And for the compliment too, I suppose."

"That's all right. I…I feel like I owe you an apology, if anything. I was the one on duty when the Nott women got you."

"Oh," Marilyn breathed - having very much not expected the conversation to take this turn "Well…I wouldn't worry about it. They were going to get their hands on me one way or another. It was just bad luck that you happened to be the one who was there at the time."

"All the same, I am sorry. For bringing it up, too."

A strained smile pulled at Marilyn's lips "It was a long time ago."

Although sometimes, when stress got to her - when some new threat was made (and usually promptly squashed by Dimitri), they had to sleep with some sort of light on, lest she wake in the middle of the night and find herself back in that dungeon before sense sank in. But it was rare. Very rare.

Of course, now that she had children those fears had mutated - grown fangs, claws, that sort of thing. But a birthday party was no time for those. Especially not a birthday party that contained several former war heroes. She was safe. It was fine.

"Luna - the twins are fighting. Hermione can't quite work out over what," a new, vaguely familiar voice joined the fray.

Marilyn turned her head and then pressed her lips together as George Weasley joined them, and then she lowered her gaze as he took up the place Luna had just occupied.

"Do you hear that?" He offered in greeting.

"What?"

"Everybody bracing themselves for the grudge match of the century," he replied drily.

"Would you give me a minute to put the baby down first?"

"I thought maybe you planned to tag him in if it got too difficult."

"You vastly underestimate my fighting skills."

"You're a Muggle who married Malfoy, I don't think anybody could underestimate your fighting skills," he snorted.

He looked better than when she'd last seen him. Not quite as worn.

"I'm glad we got a chance to speak again," she admitted.

"Are you?" He challenged.

"Yeah. I felt bad after last time. I…could have handled things differently."

"I could say the same," he sighed "I still don't like him."

"He doesn't like you."

"Good. But I didn't expect it to last. Thought the whole thing was some weird public image damage control. Now? Either he's scarily committed, or I was wrong - on that count, at least."

"He's not that good an actor," she snorted.

"No," he agreed "Not that I remember, anyway. And we all saw the photos."

"Yeah," she made a face "Few haven't."

"Didn't mean to drag it up. We're determined to take you on a hellish tour of memory lane, apparently."

"Next thing we know, Harry'll join us and bring up my father-in-law."

"Oh, I doubt it. He likes ol' Lucius even less than Lucius likes you."

"Ha! Not possible."

"Ah. And so we've found our common ground. He hates me, too."

"Mm. As a collective. He hates me very personally. I'd say I win."

"A bit of a crap victory, that."

"I have to work with what I have. So what they say about the enemy of my enemy is true, then?"

"Throw some free ballet tickets my way and it might be."

"I didn't take you for a fan."

"I know some people who might be," he shrugged "And I'll return the favour by throwing some free products your way, if you'd like. From my shop. For the times when your husband gets extra…Malfoy-ish."

It was a more diplomatic word than the one she'd expected, but she swallowed whatever defensiveness threatened to rise up.

"Ah, so we're trading in social currency now. Some would say that that is pretty Malfoy-ish in itself."

"We've just become friends, let's not ruin it now."

Smiling wryly, Marilyn shook her head and sighed before speaking sincerely "I'm sorry if our being here is awkward for you."

"Hermione ran it by me before she invited you," he admitted.

"She did?"

"Well, she ran it by my mum - and she said she'd be fine with it if I was. Probably assuming I wouldn't be, I won't lie."

"I wouldn't blame you. It's all a bit…messy."

"It is, but it's not Hugo's fault. Or your daughter's - and she'd be the one left out."

"That was good of you. Your sister doesn't seem to agree, though."

"Yeah, well…if I can offer a bit of advice, maybe don't mention Lucius in front of her. She's got her own grudge match to settle with that one."

It was a wonder that they hadn't become fast friends, then.

George excused himself not long after and Marilyn was certain that she wasn't imagining how the atmosphere eased not long after. But maybe that was thanks to the fact that Caelum woke up and took it upon himself to offer wide, toothless grins at anybody who so much as glanced his way. A charmer through and through.

At some point or another Mrs Weasley came to sit by her side and chat with her about her children, even going so far as to hold Caelum…and leaving the conversation with a expression that was just ever so slightly bewildered, like she'd been amazed to find that he had neither fangs nor horns. Mr Weasley, though, was the one who occupied most of her time, plying her with animated questions about life as a Muggle and grilling her on her thoughts about this mysterious new Muggle technology adapting company that was taking the world by storm.

Mostly she enjoyed it - which seemed to surprise everybody gathered, as they kept glancing over as if to check to see if she needed saving. The questions about Muggles in general were a welcome surprise - she was so used to those from the other end of the spectrum that having somebody ask out of genuine curiosity that came from a place of positivity threatened to knock her off-kilter, but she enjoyed it. The questions on the adaptors were a bit more of a mixed bag. After all, Draco's hand in the company was still a secret to most, so she had to play the role of a curious bystander (and a loyal customer) which meant playing dumb to a lot of how the technology actually worked. Thankfully, though, there wasn't much playing involved in that regard. It wasn't like she understood all of the intricacies involved - but that was fine. After all, he couldn't do a pirouette to save his life.

The weather, though it had been fine all day, took a turn for the worse in the evening, going from gloriously sunny to grey and overcast, and then finally to absolutely bucketing it down all within the span of an hour. Evie's overexcitement had led to overtiredness, which inevitably gave way to grumpiness, and her brother had elected to match that, missing his cot and the quiet of home. Hermione watched on with a sympathetic frown as Marilyn struggled to get the girl to put her shoes on while the baby fussed and cried in her arms. Having been there herself, she knew how quickly the relief of actually getting out of the house after being mired in the newborn fog could turn into exhaustion and a desire to simply return home and have a bath. She felt much the same way now that the party was winding down, and neither of her own children had been babies for a very long time.

"How is it she's getting home?" Molly asked quietly "I didn't like to ask in case she took it as a hint to leave."

George, having spent the entire day in his natural role of the fun uncle to all of the children gathered (whether they were actually related or not) had stepped in to try and coax Evie into putting her shoes on, but her tiredness had pushed her into shyness, and she wouldn't so much as look at him, refusing to do anything other than hiding her face in her mother's jeans.

"I could take the baby if you want to help her?" George offered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"No, no - thanks. He'll just cry even louder, and none of us need that. Sorry," Marilyn sighed, smoothing a hand over her hair as she tried to find a way to juggle her two children.

"Draco's going to meet them at the end of the road and they'll floo from the pub in the village."

"They can't go out into this - she's dead on her feet, and she has the little ones…no, they can use our fireplace."

"She's a Muggle, Molly, she can't go alone. I'm swamped here dealing with this," Hermione gestured to the sea of goodie bags set out in front of her, waiting for the departure of their guests "And none of you would know which fireplace to exit if you took her."

"Her husband can take them."

Hermione stopped in her single-minded task of dividing up the cake for everybody to take home, staring at Molly in disbelief.

"I…You are aware that her husband is Draco Malfoy, yes?"

"Yes, dear, I got that - but look at them. We can't send them out into that, whoever their father is."

"Alright," Hermione said slowly "I'll tell her."

"No, no, there's no need - I will. You keep taking care of that."

Hermione did as she was bid by her mother-in-law, but couldn't help but continually glance up as she did, watching Molly approach Marilyn and speak to her with a kind, if not slightly strained, smile on her face. Whatever she said was difficult to hear, but Marilyn blinked and then paused, finally shaking her head and trying to protest. Molly, however, was having none of it, and finally Marilyn relented and dug her phone out of her pocket with the hand that wasn't busy holding Caelum to her.

"What's going on there?" Ron asked as he approached.

"You'll see soon enough," Hermione replied ruefully "Here - your turn."

Slipping the knife into his hand before he could protest, Hermione approached just in time to catch a glimpse of Marilyn's phone screen.

Me [18:05]

Come inside.

Draco [18:05]

Where?

Me [18:05]

The house. We can use their floo.

Draco [18:06]

You're joking.

Me [18:06]

:)

Draco [18:06]

Marilyn?

? ? ?

"I see you're educating him on the wonders of emojis," Hermione said.

"He hates it when I use them. It's great fun," she snorted "I spent the whole day communicating only in hieroglyphs once, I thought it was very clever but he threatened to block my number."

"Did he?"

"I told him he wouldn't dare - he sent back a smiley face. A mystery that man, truly."

"Do you think he'll come?"

"I'm not checking my phone anymore, so he won't have much choice."

As if to prove her point, it started ringing the moment she returned it to her pocket but she paid it no mind. The Draco Malfoy that Hermione had known in school would have remained standing outside all night, rain or no rain, if it meant proving a point…but Hermione was still not surprised when there was a knock on the door a few minutes later. Too much had happened over the years for that to take her by surprise anymore.

The overcrowded living room fell silent as Draco stepped inside, drying his umbrella with a wave of his wand before tucking it beneath his arm and quickly pocketing the wand. Maybe he didn't want them to think that he hadn't come in peace. Before the silence could even risk turning awkward, though, Evie broke it.

"Daddy!"

Breaking the ironclad grip she'd had on Marilyn's legs, she ran for her father and buried her face in his suit jacket the moment he picked her up.

"Hello, darling," he ran a hand over her head and did an admirable job at pretending he wasn't aware of the eyes on them "How was your day?"

The girl whined a few nonsensical words and he nodded as though in great understanding.

"Tired," he murmured knowingly.

"Draco - shoes," Marilyn said.

Leaning awkwardly as she held Caelum one-handed, she lifted Evie's shoes from the floor and tossed them his way. They landed at his feet and Draco nodded, kneeling to the floor and encouraging his daughter to stand.

"Come on, Evie, shoes," he repeated Marilyn's words.

Evie's whining kicked up a notch, her tiredness clearly taking its toll, but he raised his eyebrows and handed them to her, repeating firmly "Shoes, Evely. Then we can go home."

The girl hesitated, and then she finally obeyed, plonking herself down onto the floor and taking up one of the pink velcro trainers and a look of determination. Half-hearted chatter resumed in the living room, but all eyes remained on Draco as he greeted Harry with a nod and then side-stepped Neville to reach Marilyn. If Evie was overtired, Marilyn was dead on her feet, greeting her husband with a strained smile and a hand squeeze as he reached to take the baby from her.

"I've got him," she tried to wave him off, but relented at the firm look she received from him.

Handing Caelum over, she winced and rolled her shoulders, a few clicks sounding even from across the living room as she did so. The baby fussed a little, but Draco presented him with his free hand and he was quickly occupied with the silver ring on his father's pinky finger. Hermione stifled a smile as Molly witnessed the whole thing as if Draco had entered the room walking on his hands. It was a look that was shared around the room, and she had a feeling they'd have been less surprised if he'd gotten Evie to put her shoes on and taken Caelum from Marilyn all under threat of the Cruciatus Curse.

Rather than abandoning them to be left feeling like they were centre stage, Hermione relented and stepped forward with the small paper goodie bag in her hand "Here - cake, a few little toys. For Evie."

"Thanks, Hermione," Marilyn smiled, accepting it and then turning to Molly "And thank you, Mrs Weasley, for your hospitality. We had a lovely time."

"Oh, it was no trouble, dear," Molly smiled.

Draco did a marvellous job at looking like he wasn't desperate to leave, but Hermione caught the glances he kept shooting towards the fireplace.

"What do you say, Evie?" He prompted when his daughter came to stand at his side.

Her wide blue eyes scanned the room unsurely, apparently not quite certain who it was she was meant to be thanking out of all those gathered.

"Thank you," she finally said, directing it shyly at her newly adorned trainers.

It earned a number of coos from around the room, and her father smiled, taking her hand.

"All right, come on troops," Marilyn sighed, herding her clan in the direction of the fireplace.

"Remember what I said about those tickets," George called after her.

"Any time. Hermione has my address - just let me know," she waved a hand before taking Evie's in hers and wrapping her free one around Draco's upper arm.

They were gone a moment later in a flash of green fire, and then the silence was back. Until Neville spoke.

"Anybody else feel like they just watched a cat walk on two feet?"

A/N: Most of my "research" for this chapter came in the form of looking through the names of constellations and deciding which ones would be the least abusive to saddle a child with.

*Also* I know that by now George would've been with Angelina Johnson by now in the canon, but I dooo want to write a fic of him one day and when that day comes I might want it to take place in this AU universe (there wouldn't be a crazy amount of overlap, I just don't want to start anew after doing so much bloody world-building here), so I'm leaving that door open.

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