Hello Mr. Malfoy,

As a reminder, Headmistress McGonagall's deadline is quickly approaching (in four days).

We ask that you kindly provide your availability for the rest of this week so that we may coordinate a brief get-together.

If possible, we would prefer to host.

Best,

H & R

Hello,

I am available tomorrow after 7 p.m.

What is the nearest Floo connection to your home?

- D. M.

Hello again,

We can do 8 PM.

Please find our directions below.

Thanks,

H & R

Draco held the parchment close to his face and squinted, for good measure, at the marked address — 80 Somerset Street, London. As the initial bout of confusion passed, in its place came discomfort, settling unwelcomely in the pit of his stomach. Draco, greatly perturbed, crumpled the parchment in his hand before tossing it aside.

He had the correct address.

For Draco, discovering that the Granger-Weasleys did not live in squalor felt like a betrayal of all that was good and natural in his world. He knew it didn't make any sense; he knew it was childish and mildly disturbing to hope that a family lived in destitution. And yet, there he was, standing before one of eight stucco-fronted terraced houses on Somerset Street — the only one with potted flowers and a charming clay sculpture of a grinning toad.

Acting purely on impulse, he kicked the toad in its face. While forceful enough to knock it down, the sculpture landed, silently and softly, on a bed of loose soil. Draco glowered above the gleaming, grinning face of the toad in complete silence.

He was being silly.

Draco pulled out his wand and placed the toad back on its plinth with a flick of his wrist. He even retrieved the discarded wad of parchment as Rose's remarks about the environment still rang in his ears.

Once Draco had composed himself and his surroundings, he knocked on their door.

Not long after, Granger greeted him with one of her drowsy, paper-thin smiles. "I hope you didn't have trouble coming from Hex and Tankard. I know it's a bit dodgy, but it's the closest Floo connection," she said immediately, stepping aside to let him in.

"Oh, no, not all."

Except that he did — when a Wizard twice his size arrived on top of Draco, who'd just landed. The bloke reeked of Firewhisky and instantly accused Draco of falling on him , which was physically impossible, seeing how Draco had been pinned beneath the Wizard's derrière.

Granger led him through a massive foyer to another oversized room that looked to be quite Muggle-y. The space was decorated with floor-to-ceiling cabinetry and silver electrical appliances, all ranging in different sizes and shapes.

"So this is our kitchen; feel free to sit at the island."

Draco hesitated until his eyes landed on a large rectangle made of wood and marble, detached from everything else and marked by several stools.

"Right," he replied before moving to sit on one.

Granger had her back to him as she rummaged through one of the cream-colored cabinets. He was quick to notice the Muggle clothing she had on — loosely fitted, grey, and cashmere — he started to feel overdressed.

"I left my wand in the study, so I'll be making us tea by hand. Hope you don't mind," she remarked from over her shoulder.

"Tea's tea," Draco replied with a shrug.

She murmured something to herself before getting to work. The process took far longer than he expected, considering the number of Muggle appliances she possessed.

He was then reminded of a conversation with Scorpius over Muggle kitchens; Scorpius was about to start his Second Year at Hogwarts and had eagerly begun reading his textbook on 'Non-Magical Peoples' for a class once known as Muggle Studies.

Over dinner, Draco innocently inquired about his progress, prompting Scorpius to begin a lecture on the social implications of white and silver Muggle appliances. According to Scorpius, silver machinery implied wealth and modernity, whereas white or black did not.

So, even by Muggle standards, the Granger-Weasleys were loaded.

Several moments later, Granger approached him with two mugs and a kettle. He watched as she carefully placed them down and briefly wondered if she would sit beside him. Thankfully, the witch opted to stand on the other side of the island instead.

"Ron owled me just before you arrived that he's running late, so we can start without him," Granger announced as she began steeping their tea.

His brow quirked in her direction; while Weasley's absence was greatly appreciated, Draco still found the Weasel's tardiness odd. Wasn't he a high-ranking Auror — surely he could make it home by eight o'clock in the evening. After all, it was well known that Aurors of his ranking was resigned to a life of endless paperwork.

"Alright, where did you want to start?" Draco asked, pushing the thought of Weasley out of his mind as he grabbed the nearest mug.

Now that she was facing him, he took the opportunity to give Granger a proper once-over. Like yesterday, her hair was pulled back to reveal the petite, pointed face he despised as a child. Presently, he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He certainly didn't despite it — Granger — which was a good sign, Draco supposed. But of what, he did not know.

A moment passed as his question lingered in the air; then, the corners of her mouth quirked upwards. "You know, Scorpius is," she started, finally meeting his eyes. "He's very nice."

"Nice?" Draco mused with the faintest smirk.

"Yes, he seems like a lovely boy, and I know Rose can be difficult, so…" She hesitated to finish her thought. This did not go unnoticed by Draco, who reached for the nearest mug.

"Anyway," Granger continued. "I haven't had a chance to put anything together yet, but I thought we could start with a general discussion about yesterday's meeting."

She crossed her arms over her chest and began, "So, what did you make of it?"

Draco's response was quick and frank, much like his…tea-making. "Well, I was a bit surprised to hear that Scorpius was misbehaving. He's generally not the type."

She responded only with pursed lips and a carefully raised brow, so he continued. "I was certainly surprised to hear that McGonagall was considering expelling them."

At once, the frigidness in Granger's expression melted to reveal a livelier, spunkier version of the witch. "Yes, us as well! She just so happened to leave that bit out in her initial letter," continuing with a roll of her eyes. "How convenient."

Something shifted within Draco as he took in Granger's new form; she looked younger to him, maybe even…twinkly, which was not a word he'd ever use to describe someone, but it seemed to fit her at that moment.

Suddenly, he felt unnerved.

"Yes, well," Draco cleared his throat. "I suppose I can understand her discomfort with a Slytherin and a Gryffindor not getting along."

"I think it has more to do with the fact that it's your Slytherin and my Gryffindor more than anything else," Granger replied, not missing a beat.

So, he paused; Draco had to be careful with his words here. "Fair enough, but Scorpius — he's not like me at all. I mean, so much has changed since our time…she really doesn't have anything to worry about."

"Oh, really?" Granger narrowed her eyes at him. "I suppose I'll just take your word for it then."

Her 'twinkle' vanished at once, replaced by something hazier, potentially explosive. So, Draco took cover.

With his hands folded neatly on the marble counter, he cautiously replied, "Do whatever you want. But like you said, Scorpius is a good boy."

"Hmm, I can't really say the same about Rose."

When Draco said nothing — because how in Merlin's name was he meant to respond — she broke into a verbal scurry.

"Oh, don't look at me like that! My daughter is not at risk of becoming a bloody Death Eater."

Draco's eyes flickered to her hands as she repositioned the kettle about a centimeter to the left.

"Rose is just a tad…how do I say this," she sighed and moved the kettle back to its original state before she could continue. "Forgive me, but Rose can be a tad…bitchy."

Once again, her candidness affected him in ways he'd wished to ignore. She did appear remorseful, though — or at least embarrassed — for such an honest admission about her own daughter. He couldn't help but find that it suited her, embarrassment, especially in how it colored her cheeks a delightful shade of pink.

"But she's also so lovely!" Granger added, her eyes wide and bright, pleading with him to believe her. "Really, she's very kind and personable, but also a bit…"

"Bitchy," Draco stated plainly.

"Yes, bitchy."

"Well, a little bitchiness at her age is generally harmless," he reasoned.

"Well, I tend to disagree. Having been a bit bitchy then myself."

"I'm sure this goes without saying, but same, Granger." As soon as the word left his mouth, Draco cringed. He'd deliberately avoided saying her surname out loud to bypass any Granger-Weasley, Weasley-Granger semantics. And really, it just felt unnatural. All of it did.

To make matters even worse, she laughed. She really, honestly laughed, and it sounded bright and girlish and made him want to Disapparate at once.

"Don't remind me," Granger eventually said, settling into a soft grin that was far too becoming of her.

A comfortable silence overcame them as Draco thought of the next thing to say.

"You know," he finally spoke. "The whole time, I was thinking, 'Merlin, McGonagall's gone soft.'"

Following suit, Granger perked up with, "I know! Having us all come in on a Monday afternoon to discuss a bit of schoolyard bullying is really over the top."

"But," she continued after a beat. "I am glad that Rose and Scorpius, albeit mostly Rose, are getting an education on healthy communication skills and emotional regulation. Frankly, I think it should be mandatory for every student."

Struck by the thought, Draco wondered how something like that might have impacted his life and if anything would have been different. Bitterly, he doubted it.