"Are you trying to be my mum?"

Scorpius was more than happy to skip school on Friday. Hermione wasn't speaking to Draco, but she was speaking to Blaise and she owed Scorpius a shoe shopping adventure. She wouldn't call it kidnapping; Blaise was Scorpius's guardian through the week. Both Hermione and Scorpius wound up in the back of the X5 at eleven on Friday morning.

Are you trying to be my mum?

Hermione was glad Scorpius was so direct with that question. She looked down at him as Colin drove toward their first stop and she said,

"No. Do you want a second mum?"

"I dunno." Scorpius shrugged. "I didn't know my mum. I want to know my mum, but talking about her always makes my dad sad, so I don't like to ask."

Hermione admitted, "I think you should ask. He likes to talk about her, but I think he doesn't know how." She pressed her palm to her chest and said, "He keeps her in here."

Scorpius pressed his hand to his chest and said, "But I want her here. Dad says she's a singer, but I never heard her sing. I'm really bad at singing and so is my dad."

"He is." Hermione laughed. "He sang along to the radio when he drove me home a few weeks ago and he is awful."

Scorpius grinned.

"I'm awful, too!"

"What else do you know about her?"

"Uncle Bastien said she was tall. Almost as tall as my dad! I think that's cool. Al's mum is taller than his dad. Dad said she didn't like sweets. Uncle Blaise said she was the only person who liked his shrimp. But then my dad told me she only pretended to like his shrimp because she didn't want to be mean. My Uncle Theo said she was like a sister. He shows me pictures when I visit and tells me not to say anything to dad."

"Pictures?"

"Yeah. Mostly of my mum and my dad. D'you have a baby?"

There was no pause between thoughts with him. Hermione shook her head. Another direct question she didn't need to work around.

"No. No, I don't."

"D'you want a baby?"

"I never truly gave myself time to think about it. I was married, my husband wanted kids, but we divorced before that decision would have been made."

"Why're you divorced?"

The truth was best, wasn't it?

"After I got blown up, my husband didn't want me to keep doing what I was doing. But I love my job too much to stop."

"Oh. That makes sense. You're good on telly."

"Thank you."

"Was it scary?"

"No, once you've been on television you get used to things rather quickly. I didn't often have time to worry about—"

"Was it scary to be blown up?"

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything for a minute. Of course it was scary, she was fucking terrified. She'd never been more frightened, or in more pain. Scorpius sat dutifully in his car seat, silent, waiting patiently for Hermione to answer. With Scorpius, the truth had seemed to go over quite well so Hermione settled on a version of it.

"Getting blown up was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me. I thought I would die. Then when I thought I could live, I thought I'd lose my arm. If I lost my arm, I didn't think they'd let me be on television anymore. I still haven't told the network that I can't move it the way I used to. They always want women to look a certain way, and they hate my hair. I don't want to give them something else to not like about me. Mostly I wanted to stay alive because I needed to tell Ron, my husband, that I love how good of a person he is. I didn't think I told him that enough."

"Oh."

"It was very scary."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Dad would say that's a bad question."

Hermione insisted, "I don't want you to be afraid to ask me questions."

"Okay."

Draco would be caught up with British GQ for several hours, the shops wouldn't get crowded until at least three, so they hopped from shop to shop until both Hermione and Scorpius were nearly ready to drop. Harrods was their final stop because Hermione had never been there and not purchased something. Bath towels. Bed linens. A silk pillowcase. There always seemed to be something she could put to use. Hermione held Scorpius's hand as they walked past each of the caches, telling him,

"Let me know if you see a pair of shoes you like."

"Okay."

They were getting a lot of looks. Hermione shielded Scorpius as best she could from anyone with a phone pointed in their direction. Draco would kill her if Scorp's face made its way onto social media. Anyone who'd paid attention could do the math. Scorpius was obviously Draco's son, and she was Hermione Granger, they were together without Draco, which meant she was involved enough in Scorpius's life to take him shopping alone …

"THAT ONE!"

Scorpius dropped Hermione's hand and rushed over to the Prada cache. He pointed to a black loafer on one of the upper shelves and asked,

"Can I try on that one?"

The sales associate looked at Hermione with a curious expression but retrieved the shoes without hesitation. Hermione pulled on the pair of black loafers with a rubber sole that was at least three inches tall. Scorp's feet were swallowed by the smallest size shoes in stock. He looked like a duckling still getting used to its feet. Scorpius immediately began dragging himself toward the mirror. His eyes went wide as he said,

"They look like tires! It's so cool, I feel like a car!"

Hermione stood next to him in her own pair and surveyed herself in the mirror.

"I just don't see it for me, but you make a great car."

Scorpius turned to the sales associate and said, "These are AWESOME!" Then he began a slow trot between the sides of the cache, making little vroom noises as he went.

Hermione toed off the loafers and placed them back in the box. Scorpius continued stomping around in the loafers. The associate leaned in and said,

"I shouldn't tell you this, but Balenciaga has a pair of kids trainers that look really similar. He's too adorable to not have a pair of shoes that look like car tires."

"Thank you."

"Love you on BBC, by the way. Do you and Diggory coordinate your outfits every day?"

Hermione nodded.

"I photograph whatever I'm wearing and text it to him. Every time I get a new outfit for the desk he finds a coordinating tie. I was nervous my first day and that was his way of supporting me. We've kept doing it because it makes us a better team."

"Good on you. I'm getting my master's in journalism, but I'm more of a print sort of person. Got an internship at The Quibbler but it's not quite my speed. A bit …" The associate hummed. "It's a bit much."

Hermione pulled out a business card and said, "If you apply to BBC, use me as a reference." She glanced at the associate's nametag and said, "Tell them you're Alys from Prada and I'll remember."

"Oh my God!" Alys's eyes lit up. "Yes, thank you!"

"It's my civic duty getting you away from The Quibbler."

Alys insisted, "It's not that bad. They've got good intentions, you know, but—"

"But you wish to be taken seriously." Hermione nodded. "I understand. The first story I ever published was in a dental magazine."

"Tooth decay: the modern villain."

Hermione laughed.

"That's funny. Thank you for letting my …" Hermione paused before amending, "For letting Scorpius run around in what I imagine are very expensive shoes."

"Honestly, all the women in the shop have made their way to the caches next door to watch you with what I'm guessing is Draco Malfoy's kid. I'm pretty sure I'll be boosting my commission once you leave."

Hermione's heart sank a bit. They were a bit of a novelty, weren't they? No matter. Scorpius eventually gave the shoes back and they continued their search throughout the store. Hermione pulled a few pairs of Jimmy Choos and settled on two: one yellow and one purple. Scorpius watched Hermione walk around in each pair. She put one on each foot and stared down at them, trying to determine which would pair with more of her clothes. Specifically the clothes she'd been too frightened to wear until recently. Maybe it was time to feel like herself again. Even if being herself felt differently than it had before. Hermione sat back in the chair and sighed. Out of nowhere, Scorpius asked,

"Do you love my dad?"

Hermione nodded.

"I do love your dad."

"Good. He loves you, too. He told me."

Hermione's heart beat in double-time. Draco told his son he loves me. Scorpius wasn't the kind of child to mishear something like that. Oh, they were in such a messy emotional place. Hermione hoped their gift for Draco's birthday would help him move forward. Draco's wife deserved a proper resting place. Scorpius deserved a place where he could see his mother as she would have been. Scorpius smiled down at the shoes on Hermione's feet then bent forward until his fingers touched his toes. He remained like that as he said,

"Uncle Blaise has a boyfriend. He thinks I dunno, but I do know. I saw them kissing when they thought I was asleep. They made funny noises."

Hermione blanched and asked, "Where were their hands?"

Scorpius stood up and shrugged.

"I didn't see hands."

Hermione grimaced and insisted, "Let's never tell your dad about that, okay?"

Scorpius frowned.

"I tell my dad everything."

"Everything?"

Scorpius placed his hands on his eyes and shook his head.

"No. I have a secret."

"Oh?" Hermione shifted into journalist mode. "Would you like to tell me?"

"I don't know if I can."

"Let me guess, because it's someone else's secret, too?"

Scorpius nodded.

"Well," Hermione offered, "how about you give me a hint?"

"It's about hands."

"Hands." Hermione hummed softly to herself, a little stuck. "Your hands or someone else's hands?"

"Both." Scorpius kicked at the ground when he said, "My hands and somebody else's together."

"Oh."

Hermione grinned and tickled Scorpius's sides for a minute. He giggled and pushed her away. She asked,

"Did someone hold your hand?"

"My best friend." Scorpius whispered, "He said when you like somebody you put your hands together. But my Uncle Blaise and my Uncle Theo and my Uncle Bastien never hold hands. They're friends. Bastien touches Auntie Padma's hands a lot. They're married. I don't wanna marry my best friend, but I like holding his hand. But I don't know how much I can hold his hand and not be married."

Hermione tried not to laugh, even though it was exactly the sort of adorable thing that would cause Scorpius to worry. She said,

"To be married you have to exchange rings and say you're married. You can hold hands as much as you want, but if you don't say you're married and you don't have rings, you're not married."

"Oh!" Scorpius's eyes brightened. "But we don't have to kiss and touch hands. It can be just hands?"

"Correct."

"That's good. I don't wanna kiss Al. Sometimes he has fish for lunch and he smells gross."

Hermione laughed. She covered her mouth with her hand, but that was the funniest thing in the world. The look on Harry's face if she told him his son had a crush on Draco Malfoy's kid would be priceless. Hermione held out her feet, the purple shoe on the left and the yellow on the right. She asked,

"Final decision, which one?"

Scorpius walked around and inspected the soles. He stretched out his thumb and forefinger to measure each of the heels in what he must've assumed was a very scientific, very precise manner given his intense focus. He tapped the point of the yellow heel and the toe of the purple before asking,

"Which is softer for walking?"

Hermione tapped the toe of the yellow on the floor and said, "This one."

"Purple's prettier."

"You think?"

"Can we get both?"

"I can't afford both right now, baby blond." Hermione nudged him with the pointed toe of the yellow heel. "Perhaps we should choose comfort first?"

"Is it a lot for both?"

"Yes, it is a lot of money for both."

"I have a lot." Scorpius pulled off his rucksack, unzipped the backmost pocket, and opened it to show Hermione what would amount to twenty £50 notes. "Is this good for purple?"

"Bloody hell!" Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. She whispered, "Who gave this to you?"

"Uncle Blaise!" Scorpius smiled at Hermione and said, "He says it's for 'mergencies. This is a shoe-mergencies."

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, then pulled the rucksack from Scorpius's hands. She zipped the rucksack closed and placed it on the chair next to her.

"We are going to buy both pairs of shoes, courtesy of your uncle, Blaise. Then we are going to get pedicures, and then I am taking you home where I will yell at Blaise for being an idiot."

.oOo.

Hermione's friend group had certain rules and protocols for when things were going to shit. Someone got themselves blown up? Protocol. Someone got shot? Protocol. Lost a job? Protocol. Of course there was breakup protocol. When Hermione received an emergency text from Harry requesting lunch on Monday afternoon, her mind went to the worst places.

Divorce.

There was no way. Impossible. Ginny had gone through the worst stages of Harry's recovery with patience and understanding that he couldn't have expected. Arguably more patience than he deserved, if Hermione was honest. Neville and Hannah, maybe. Their finances were dragging them both down, but they loved each other. They'd work through it.

Maybe one of Ron's family members had died? Perhaps it was Percy. Hermione wouldn't feel bad if it was. But if it was Bill that would kill Fleur. Oh, God, what if it's Molly? Or Arthur? They'd been like parents to everyone for so long, it was impossible to imagine a world without them in it. It'd be like the sky without clouds or trees without leaves. Sure they departed, but they always came back around again.

It turned out that her emergency lunch guests consisted solely of Harry, Ron, and Dean. It wasn't a death in the family, then. That would have necessitated a far larger party. Hermione whispered to Dean as they were shown to their table.

"What's going on?"

"No idea. I was hoping you knew."

Hermione shook her head as they took their seats. The lunch began as a lunch usually would. Pleasantries. How's Ginny? The kids? Hermione didn't ask about Ron's wife and he didn't offer, but he did pull up a video on his phone. He handed the phone to Hermione with one earbud and said,

"You need to watch this, and then you need to explain."

Hermione frowned as she took his phone.

"What's going on?"

She looked down to see Draco's face smiling up at her from a British GQ thumbnail. Her heart sank. What had he said about her? She asked,

"Where do I—"

"Watch the whole thing," said Harry.

"Seems like a quick turnaround."

"They're behind." Dean admitted, "I subscribe. They had to cancel their previous cover so Malfoy's the fill-in and they're a week behind. My guess is this promo is to keep interest."

Hermione put the earbud in and pressed play.

Draco looked so good that she completely blanked on the intro. He'd pulled his hair back into a messy bun and was wearing a green jumper not dissimilar to the blue one sitting in its own dedicated drawer in Hermione's room. Draco held up his phone and said,

"The first, most important thing I cannot live without day-to-day is my iPhone. I conduct all my business on it, handle affairs at the manor, and keep up with my friends. I don't have social media so I don't know how effective it is for those things, but it's invaluable to be able to be on the road and still take meetings." Draco showed the face of the phone to the camera then asked, "Can you blur that out, a bit? My lock screen is a photo of my son and I don't intend for him to be in public life yet. I was sixteen when my father's choices put me on every news station on the continent, and I won't do that to my son. I know better." Draco glanced down at his phone. "This kid is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I tell him that every day I can."

Hermione knew that to be the truth. The video cut to Draco with six separate Sleekeazy's products in front of him.

"The second thing is almost as important as the first. I remember being five years old and wanting to be just like my father. He had long hair, so I had long hair. Then he nearly ruined our family and I didn't want to look like him anymore. When I was sixteen I cut my hair off, and it looked pretty good, actually. I grew it out again because I didn't look like myself. I didn't feel comfortable because Malfoys have long hair." He shrugged. "We always have. But you must care for your hair when it's this length. I've got Sleekeazy's shampoo, conditioner, pomade, leave-in conditioner, shine spray—ladies, this is worth its weight in gold, I promise—split end serum, and their silk hair ties." He tugged on the hair tie between his hands and said, "If you've got really long hair, you've worked hard for it. Don't damage it with shitty bobbles. Get yourself five silk ones and I promise you'll see a difference."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"This isn't sponsored, by the way, I pay for all of this. I'm just a slut for Sleekeazy's."

The video cut to Draco with a series of cheap-looking bottles on the table in front of him. He sighed and said,

"Look, I know my life is incredibly posh, but the reason my family has been able to hold onto wealth as long as we have is because we know when we're getting fucked." He continued, "Skincare does not have to be expensive. I'll pick up all of this at Boots. I am ghastly pale, so any time I go outside I am covered in sunscreen. When I go for a run I use a special brand from my dermatologist, but otherwise it's just the basics you see here. Find what works for you and don't spend money on what amounts to little more than fancy packaging. Cleanse and moisturize twice a day, tone and exfoliate once per day."

The video cut to Draco holding one of Scorpius's tree drawings that had been creased and folded to death. He grinned and said,

"My son loves drawing trees. I dunno why he picked trees, but every week he presents me with at least five of these drawings. I try to keep one on me at all times because he's been spending so much time away from me during his first year of school, and I miss him. It feels like I have a bit of him with me."

Draco's face fell as he introduced number five. He lifted the chain around his neck to reveal his wedding band.

"I suppose that brings us to this. I lost my wife nearly six years ago and, until recently, I'd been wearing it the way I always have. But I … Well, what can I say? I fell in love again and it didn't feel right to keep wearing it. I have to hold onto my wife a little less. This new woman, she hasn't pushed me to go any faster than I needed but I moved too quickly. She said to me that she knows Astoria will always be part of my life and have part of my heart. She asked me to give her what's left and I couldn't quite do it. I think I might've lost her forever because of it."

Hermione saw the truth of that in Draco's eyes. The pain he'd caused them both. But he was talking about her, telling the world, or at least the viewers of the British GQ channel on YouTube, that he made a mistake. Hermione believed him when he said,

"The love is different, I think. My wife was perfect for me, and this new wo—fuck it, I already blabbed to Finch-Fletchley over lunch." Draco shook his head. "Hermione and myself are both far from perfect, but I've started to laugh again. It's the strangest thing, because my wife and I saw the world the same way. Hermione and I see the world very differently, but she's helped bring me out of my grief and back into the world. I can't explain it other than she's helping me to grow as a man, whereas I'd been afraid to do that without my wife. Like if I changed, I was forgetting all about her. My son told me he wants me to date Hermione because he likes her shoes, so I suppose his priorities are in the proper place."

Hermione couldn't help but smile down at the screen. Scorpius would say that. Someone behind the camera asked,

"Are you just attracted to strong, vocal women?"

Draco frowned so hard that a tiny eleven appeared between his eyebrows.

"I come from English tradition, right? We're all a bunch of pricks, and I dropped more friends than I care to remember because of the way they treat their women. There are two types of men: those who want their partners to turn themselves down for them, and those who give their partners the opportunity to be what they want to be. I fucking worshipped my wife. I always wanted her to be louder, to be more of who she was because it fascinated me. She was a performer and when she was happy my world was brighter. Two of my best friends treat their wives the same way, and then there's Blaise, whom I can personally attest is an incredibly wonderful partner. My father taught me how to value a spouse and I don't want anyone who behaves differently to be part of my family.

"Now, Hermione is at a place where she's trying to figure out how much of herself to show the world, and she doesn't need me to tell her to be louder. She needs someone to say she doesn't need to change. As a woman in media she's often told that she's not doing something right, that she has to look a certain way, and I think she's phenomenal as she is. So … I'm not devoted to strong women, I was devoted to my wife and I am in love with a woman who also happens to have a powerful voice."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. I am in love with a woman who also happens to have a powerful voice. Like her voice wasn't the most important thing. What else had he seen in her? What if Hermione never gave Draco the chance to answer? The video cut to Draco with a plate of food in front of him. He said,

"One of my best friends, Blaise, is an amazing chef. My favorite thing that he cooks, even though he's Italian, is actually Spanish. He makes the best croquetas in the world. If I'm spending the weekend at his house, I'll put back at least seven of these. I dated Blaise about ten years ago, and if I was angry at him he'd cook croquetas as a bribe to make the conflict go away. It was incredibly effective. If there's one suggestion I can make for you in life, it's to have a friend who can cook. Or, if you're not confident in yourself and are worried your friend group may desert you, be the friend who cooks. They will never leave."

The video cut to Draco looking down at a navy bag.

"This is key." He picked up the bag and rotated it a bit, showing all sides to the camera. "This is my holdall from Aspinal of London. It's made of leather, I've had it probably three years now, and it gets the shit beat out of it quite often. I'll toss it into the seat next to me when I'm travelling, throw it in the backseat of the car, or kick it around on the floor of one of my mates' guestrooms. It's only a thousand Pounds or so, but it's held up well. It holds a pair of trousers, a couple shirts, my trainers, and a travel case of everything I need skincare-wise and for my hair. It's easy to take anywhere. And inside is essential number eight …"

Draco pulled out a bright orange passport holder.

"My passport. I'm always losing this, so my mother put it in a bright orange cover to make it easier to spot both when I have it and when I don't. It's embarrassing to have a meeting in another country and I can't make it because I left my passport at home. The cover is also from Aspinal of London. When you find a brand you like, stick with it. They're decently priced, good quality, and I can get the products monogrammed."

The video made another jump, to Draco holding up the same shirt he was wearing when they met. He smiled at the camera and said,

"This is my lucky shirt—"

Hermione mumbled, "That cheeky bastard knew I'd be watching this."

"—and I've got several like it. The trick is to understand your high points and cater to them. Because I play on both sides of the pitch, I dress for two audiences. Men always look at the middle first: bum, cock, waist. Shirts like this emphasize how my body tends to narrow at the middle, making my bum look a bit fuller by comparison. Women go for a once-over of the full package. I'll wear these shirts unbuttoned to about nip-level, just enough of a tease without being risqué about it. And it's silk, which tends to connote wealth and feels like butter against the skin. If you're holding your partner close, it's comfortable for you both."

The video made its final cut to Draco holding up a wristwatch. Hermione couldn't recall seeing it before. He was always changing his watch; she'd never noticed him wear the same one during their time together.

"A watch tells you a lot about an individual. For example, if you go out and drop twenty-five thousand quid on a watch at Cartier or really shell out for a Rolex, it signals to me that you don't properly understand luxury. I might sound like a prick saying it, but honestly … Nineteen generations of Malfoys, we are meant to build wealth and we have a consistent view of what it looks like."

Draco looked down at the watch and placed it back on his wrist.

"When it comes to watches, I primarily buy from a brand in Switzerland: ochs und junior. I love watches, they're sort of the only accessory I care about. This watch cost me about eighteen thousand Pounds. It's custom made and takes three months from the time I order it to the time it's finally on my wrist. It's got white gold leaf markers, white gold leaf for the hands, premium leather strap …" Draco shrugged. "This is something I can't walk into a shop and pick up. It was tailored to my colour specifications, to my materials, and it took time. Perhaps it's just how I was raised, but the instantaneous bits of the world don't interest me. This brand is family-owned, and they source properly. Wealth, to me, is about time and quality. A watch should be the product of both."

He nodded to the camera.

"Thanks, British GQ, for letting me show you the ten things I cannot live without."

Hermione exited the video. She looked at Ron and huffed,

"You called an emergency lunch for this?"

"Of course we did." Harry answered the question with, "I've known Malfoy a long time because Gin's one of Zabini's close friends. The two of you," he nodded to Dean, "are bringing people into our family."

Dean insisted, "I've known Blaise four weeks, we're not—"

"Every time I text you," said Ron, "you're either at his house or he's brought you lunch at school. Harry and I are here because we feel you both need to explain what's going on and what you need from us."

Before Hermione could get a word in, Dean caved.

"I'm in love with him." Dean ran a hand over his face and admitted, "If he asked me to marry him, I'd say yes. I'd marry him tomorrow. I am trying to take this slowly, but he's everything I could ask for and it's scaring the hell out of me. Blaise is secure in every facet of his life, and he's been looking for someone to share it with. I want to be that person for him."

"Oh." Hermione placed Ron's phone on the table and pushed it toward him. "Dean and I are in different places, so you should focus on him."

Dean insisted, "There is nothing to focus on. We are good. Great. Phenomenal, actually. Shea is the problem—"

"What the bloody hell did he do?" asked Ron. "He's been gone for ages."

Hermione took a deep breath in and held it, counting backward from ten. Every time someone mentioned Seamus, all she could think about was Dean's words after a week in her spare room. I need to leave because it makes me feel like I'm putting you out if I stay. Because Seamus Finnegan was a bastard who made Dean believe it was selfish to ask for help. What she told Draco was true, she would commit homicide for Dean if he asked.

"He's engaged to someone new, and a few days ago Blaise posted a photo of the two of us to his Instagram. Most everyone was quite nice in the comments. I've got loads of new followers, which is odd. Unless they're really into silly jumpers I don't believe my content will be much useful to them. However, it turns out that Seamus follows Blaise on Instagram. He saw the photo and messaged me, saying he's happy I found another man to support me." Dean's face fell. "Blaise was with me when I got the message, he saw it, and he didn't understand. He thought it was a message of acceptance. Because he thinks someone like me wouldn't have stayed married to … Well, he had a variety of words for Seamus in Italian that I can guess were not friendly. I had to explain that he was implying I'm shagging Blaise because he has money."

Harry said, "I didn't know he's engaged."

"Even that is not enough for him to move on from how much he hates me." Dean stared down at the table and admitted, "He never told me why. He never told me what I did to deserve this. I miss him so much; I thought our life together was nice, mostly. I never asked for anything when we were married. I bought my car with my money, and everything I wanted to do with him I paid for. He dragged me on so many trips I hated. Hiking. We always ended up hiking. He'd say, 'You're so fit why can't you get up the bloody mountain,' and it's like I'm built for running on a flat surface for ninety minutes not Indiana Jonesing my way to the top of a mountain for six hours." Dean paused before adding, "Blaise is quite soft around the middle and he's certainly not the hiking sort."

"Scorpius caught you two shagging, by the way."

Dean's eyes went wide as he said, "You must be joking."

"One night in the kitchen after he was supposedly asleep, he said he saw you and Blaise 'kissing and making funny noises.'"

Dean let his head fall into his hands, a blush creeping its way down his neck.

"Fucking hell, Blaise stuck his hand down my trousers while waiting for his biscuits to finish in the oven. I snuck over last Wednesday for a late night dessert and didn't realize Blaise had a different definition of 'dessert.'"

"He thought it was just snogging and was mostly offended Blaise was keeping his boyfriend a secret. You didn't factor in much."

"Thank God."

Harry asked, "Is the sex good, though?"

"Yeah."

Dean's voice was just a bit too high, so they all stared at him with curious expressions on their face. Hermione had heard a lot about Blaise over the past few weeks, and he was consistently regarded as a fantastic shag.

"Look, Blaise is great in bed. For, what, seven years I was fucking my husband who was a foot shorter than me, and the height difference had its advantages. Unlike my husband, I wasn't shagging other men while we were married. What I've done with Blaise has been good. It's different because he's taller and wider and he's got fat, you know? He's soft and I love it, but he's giving me everything I never got from Seamus. Shea never wanted spontaneous sex in the kitchen. He didn't like to linger in bed after sex. Blaise can't keep his hands off me, begs me not to leave bed in the morning, and has done everything except say he loves me, which he doesn't have to do. I don't know how to tell him that is what I like more than the sex."

Hermione offered, "You should tell him just that. Say that's what you never got from your ex, and that you enjoy the sex, too."

"I hate to ask," said Harry, "but are you, um, and Malfoy … Together?"

Ron made a face and admitted, "I don't like where this conversation is going."

"He hasn't even kissed me. We've done nothing except say …" Hermione glanced up at the ceiling and said, "We love each other. We know it, but it doesn't mean anything will happen. I deserve more than a man who is tied up in his own grief the way Draco is."

"So you're done?" asked Ron. "Because I know you, and that's not your 'this is over' face. That's the face of disappointment I saw when I wouldn't have sex with you when you got home from an assignment at three o'clock in the fucking morning."

"Ugh." Harry made a face of disgust. "Was that necessary?"

Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaned, "Those images are in my head now. Gross."

"This," replied Hermione, "is why I have female friends. Would I like for Draco to be my boyfriend? Yes. Is he at a place where he can be my boyfriend? No. Clearly Ron wins the best ex-husband award. Let's move on, please."

"Erm, no." Harry insisted, "Malfoy's going to figure himself out. And when he does, are we going to have to make room for him in our family?"

"I don't know."

"How much room would we really need to make?" asked Ron. "If Dean's all-in on Zabini, it seems like he and Malfoy are a package deal. Padma's husband is best mates with Malfoy, Parvati's boyfriend is Hermione's television partner and knows Malfoy, Harry and Gin know Malfoy through Zabini … It seems I'm the only one without an in. So … This all comes down to me."

Hermione said, "Then I want to know what you're thinking."

"I think Malfoy's a fucking dick as a businessman, but I spoke to him on the phone—"

"What?!"

Hermione was beyond embarrassed. Her ex-husband rang her would-be boyfriend, for what? Ron gave her a look that amounted to, Please let me finish a sentence or two.

"After you went missing for a few hours, we didn't know where you were. All Dean would tell us was you were safe. I didn't know you were safe with him. I phoned him to apologize for assuming he was the sort of man who would take advantage of a woman in a vulnerable moment."

"He's not like that."

"I know that now, but you seem to care for him and trust him, so I phoned him to say that we'd give him a shot if it's what you wanted. He said he's got a fear of falling in love again because of what happened to his wife, and I think on that video you can see it's consistent with what he told me." Ron laughed. "You should've heard how his voice changed when I called you my girl."

Hermione blushed.

"Jealous, is he?"

"Loads."

"Serves him right."

"But you really like him?" asked Harry. "Because we'll give him a chance if you do."

"Don't bother. He's never moving on from his wife," said Hermione. "I don't see a relationship happening. He asked me not to walk out of his life, he said he loves me, but I don't know if he can ever love me in a way that will make us both happy."

"But are you willing to let him try?"

That question hit Hermione in an unexpected place. She assumed Draco had been stuck, was still stuck, and would remain stuck in mourning for the rest of his life. But what if he wasn't? If she was the reason he chose to move forward when his entire family hadn't been enough reason to do so for years … It had to mean something. Hermione had asked to be wanted, and Draco Malfoy wanted. Hermione said,

"If he ever relinquished hold of Astoria and let her memory take its proper place in his heart, then I would let him try every day for the rest of our lives."

.oOo.

When she arrived at Broadcasting House the following afternoon, nobody would allow her to look at the domestic reports. Ernie was persistent, even pulling papers out of her hands if he didn't know what they were. By the time she settled in the co-anchor chair, things were too weird. She leaned over to ask Cedric,

"Why is everyone acting so strange?"

He teased, "We've got a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" asked Hermione. "A surprise you plan to deliver on-air?"

Cedric nudged her with his shoulder and insisted, "You trust me."

"I do."

"Then let's show the country that you always come out on top."

The countdown began. The lights came up, the entry music played, and the camera whirred to life, scooting to their right to focus in on Cedric as he said,

"Welcome to BBC News at Ten. Our top story tonight will be read by Hermione Granger, for reasons that will be made clear momentarily."

Hermione's broadcast face slipped into a confused frown for the slightest moment. The camera swung back toward her on its track. She whispered,

"What?"

Cedric nodded toward the camera and said, "Read the prompter."

"Okay."

Hermione looked at the camera and the lights felt warmer than usual. She didn't deliver domestic news unless it was a holiday and Cedric was out. She swallowed and read along as the words moved on the prompter.

"Our top story this evening: noted cryptocurrency wanker—" Hermione felt the colour drain from her face. "My God, I believe that was meant to read banker—"

Cedric rolled his chair until it was next to Hermione's, leaned into the frame, and said,

"No."

Hermione gently pushed him out of frame and back toward his side of the half-circle desk.

"Noted cryptocurrency banker, Cormac McLaggen, was arrested today on charges of currency manipulation." Hermione laughed. "He … Oh, I'm so sorry. Is this true?"

She glanced over to Cedric, who nodded. She looked back at the camera and continued.

"Experts say he was artificially inflating the value of the two cryptocurrencies he claimed were tied to the Pound and the Dollar. This, in turn, gradually increased the value of his McShaggen currency—Cedric, I hate you for making me say that aloud."

They both snickered for a moment as Hermione shook her head and tried to regain her composure.

"A monthlong investigation has revealed a scheme that dates back two years. No word yet on whether he will face additional criminal charges."

Hermione glanced over at the monitor displaying what viewers at home were seeing. Cormac was on the screen, hands cuffed behind his back, being stuffed into the back of a police car. She smiled and said,

"You know, that is the second of my boyfriends who has wound up in prison. Perhaps next time I will offer a first date at Scotland Yard and save everyone a trip."

Cedric laughed and said, "Next thing you know, Viktor Krum will transition from Premiere League to prison league."

Hermione blushed.

"For the good of the league, then, I'll announce that Viktor and I are no longer dating."

Cedric's face fell and he immediately apologized.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione, I didn't—"

"It's no matter. Love will come around again, won't it?"

"It certainly will. Now, in less exciting domestic news, Parliament …"

Hermione stopped listening, a massive smile on her face. She made a joke that hadn't been set up by Cedric. On her own, she could be funny. What a wonderful way to begin a broadcast.

.oOo.

Hermione checked her phone after broadcast. Still no text from Draco. Nothing from Blaise, Bastien, or Theo. Parvati apologized on Cedric's behalf for surprising her with the Cormac news on-air, but that was all. She tried not to feel disappointed; it was her choice to skip Draco's birthday. Perhaps he was caught up in the whirlwind of it all and enjoying his birthday for the first time in years.

Colin was waiting outside, as always. She nodded to him, he opened the door, and shut it carefully behind her. Hermione settled in the seat—

"A bit rude to give me the best gift I've ever received and not be there to present it."

Hermione yelped, "Oh my God!" She pressed her hand to her chest and looked over to see Draco in the seat behind Colin, who entered the car slowly. Hermione said, "You couldn't have warned me?"

"I asked him not to." Draco admitted, "I figured you might not get in the car if you knew I was here."

Hermione gave him the customary quick once-over. He'd pulled half his hair back, looking like he'd just come from a high-level meeting. Pressed trousers that had been wrinkled from what Hermione assumed was several hours of sitting in a car. Tailored blazer unbuttoned, iPhone clutched in his left hand, fancy shoes, and socks with tiny trees on them. Draco glanced down at his ankles and said,

"My son picked these out."

The car began to move and Colin said, "Pretend I'm not here. I'm not listening, I promise."

Hermione asked, "How did you manage to get in my car?"

"Did you know Colin, here, has a second job?"

"No, I didn't know that."

Colin added, "I freelance for Conde Nast."

"As a photographer?" asked Hermione. "I didn't know that."

Draco said, "I thought you weren't listening."

Colin insisted, "I'm not. Carry on."

"Colin took the on-location photographs of me on Friday. We exchanged numbers in case you decide to steal the X5 again. Bastien and I fully intended to sneak into Broadcasting House, but Padma put a stop to that. Colin was an easy Plan B, which probably should have been Plan A."

"Bastien is here?"

"Three cars back in the Mercedes."

"Oh."

"I cannot believe you remembered how I met my wife."

"It was an important moment to you; of course I remembered. You're my friend."

"Yes. Friends going through shit, as I recall." Draco began to say something, but snapped his mouth shut before he spoke. He placed the iPhone in his jacket pocket then shrugged off the blazer. "You're my friend, but I saw the box, our box, and everything in the world made sense. My wife has a place to stay, a place where I can see her as I knew her."

Hermione was lost for a moment, staring at the shirt tight around Draco's shoulders and narrow at the waist. Just as he said in the video. The video in which he confessed to being in love with her. She regained her sense enough to reply,

"I can only imagine how difficult it's been."

"It's the risk you take in loving someone, isn't it? The deeper you love them, the more of you they take when they leave. Astoria had all the easy bits of me, and I suppose that left all the hard, sharp pieces for you."

"It takes a sharp edge to match a sharp edge."

Draco admitted, "I cried a lot. I sat in the box with Scorpius and it felt like, for the first time in six years, I got to see my wife and my son in the same place. I sobbed, Hermione, tears of relief. Scorpius said he got to see his mum and dad in the same place for the first time and you did that. Then Theo said something to me. He said Astoria's grave is for her parents, but I had her heart and she would've wanted it to rest in the theatre. Her heart is there for me when I need it, which made me wonder where my own heart is."

"Where?" asked Hermione.

Draco shifted a bit in his seat and took Hermione's hands in his own. He turned her palms up and said,

"Right there."

Shit.

Shitshitshit.

That was a good line. The worst part was that Draco meant it. She held his heart in her hands and what the bloody hell was she meant to do with it? How could she possibly care for his feelings when she barely knew what to do with her own? Hermione managed to squeak out,

"That's a lot of pressure."

"It's not. All it means is that I am with you when you need me. It doesn't mean you have to be there for me the same way. I wouldn't know what to do if you were. I want you to be who you are and I want you to keep making powerful people cry on television."

"I haven't done that in awhile."

"Perhaps it's time you start."

"Maybe."

Draco tilted Hermione's chin up the slightest bit and slowly ran the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. She breathed slowly, trying not to shy away from Draco's touch as he kept getting closer and closer, until their faces were no more than a hand's width apart.

"Can I kiss you?"

Those words wrapped around Hermione like fingers circling her throat. She couldn't breathe. He was so sincere, so earnest, she thought he might do it this time. Perhaps they'd danced around each other long enough that he wouldn't take another moment away, but everything had gone wrong as of late. She'd lost her dream job, she lost the chance to prove her versatility, and she'd lost her first shot at being with Draco. The only success had been a night with Viktor, which was just that. A night. Another loss would break her beyond repair. Hermione pulled his hand away from her cheek and said,

"I don't trust you to."

Hermione had seen heartache before. The pain on Viktor's face when they ended things nearly a decade and a half earlier still lived in her soul. How lost Ron had looked on the day their divorce was finalized was etched into her brain. But the look on Draco's face had nothing to do with him. All Hermione saw was guilt for making Hermione feel this way. As if he'd give anything to pull them back to their first moment under the stars and trust that Hermione was worth whatever time they had together. He could have done it anyway; it would've been so easy for him to steal a moment for himself. Yet … He didn't. Draco pushed himself to the other side of the car and stared out the window. Hermione said,

"Thank you for asking."

"You told me," he said without looking toward her, "the first time McLaggen kissed you. You said that you would've enjoyed it except he didn't ask first. If I get to kiss you, I don't want anything to make you feel like it wasn't worthwhile."

"You were behind this, weren't you?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Right."

"Do I have a contact at the HMRC who specializes in cybercrime and has enough pull to launch an internal investigation into a cryptocurrency fraud scheme?" Draco shrugged. "Perhaps."

Hermione asked, "Why would you do that?"

"Because he was an asshole to you."

"Because he kissed me." Hermione guessed, "You had a man arrested because he kissed me."

"No, Hermione, I turned on McLaggen because he didn't ask to kiss you. He made you uncomfortable, and now he's paying for it." Draco faced Hermione and insisted, "I will not judge you for the choices you make in men. I will ruin any man who touches you in a way you don't like."

"So you … You had a man arrested to protect me?"

"McLaggen is my warning to everyone else. Nobody is going to hurt you if I can help it."

Hermione shot back, "Nobody except you."

Draco looked Hermione in the eyes and said, "I never want to hurt you again. I would give anything to take away the pain I caused you. Tonight, you lifted a burden off me that my family hadn't been able to shoulder for years. I feel more like myself than I have in the entirety of my son's life. I love you, and it will take a lifetime to do for you what you did for me today."

"Blaise and your mother—"

"They've had four birthdays when they could've done this, Hermione, and thousands of days between, but none of them thought to. In six weeks, you know me better …" He shrugged. "Differently. You see me differently than they do. I couldn't let this day go by without thanking you."

As they pulled into the car park below her flat, Hermione leaned toward the front of the car. She asked,

"Colin?"

"Yes, boss?"

Hermione handed him her keys.

"Will you do a security sweep of the penthouse for me?"

Colin took the keys and said, "Anything for you, boss. Would you like me to walk slowly?"

"I would."

Hermione waited until Colin left the car and the lift doors closed behind him. Hermione shifted so her right leg was resting on the seat. She turned Draco's face toward her, leaned forward, and kissed him. Draco was frozen for a moment as he processed what was happening, then he had one hand on the back of Hermione's neck to pull her close, and the other on the small of her back to keep her steady. His lips were soft and Draco was so gentle that Hermione felt a bit let down. He'd never treated her like she was delicate before, so why now?

Draco pulled his hands away and broke the kiss, taking a massive breath in. He coughed into his jacket and admitted,

"I forgot to breathe."

Hermione nodded. She smiled wanly and said,

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize, you just caught me by surprise."

"I thought—"

"Hermione." Draco had a desperate look in his eyes when he asked, "Can I please kiss you properly?"

"Just this once, you can—"

Hermione was cut off by Draco pulling her into what she could guess was a 'proper' kiss. Though the heat between them suddenly felt quite improper. She instinctively closed her eyes and parted her lips the slightest bit. Draco took the opportunity to pull her closer and deepen the kiss. Hermione's heart began to race as Draco's kisses became hot and quick, pulling her close however he could. He tugged on the lapel of her blazer, stuffed his hand as far down the back of her trousers as he could manage, and unfastened the bow at her neck for no reason other than it was in the way. The sounds of that moment cut through the silence of the BMW, the wet smacking of lips pulling apart only to crash together again in a desperate bid to make the moment last longer than it could. He kept one hand firmly on the back of her neck as he made a trail of kisses down the side of her throat.

The ding of the lift sounded throughout the near-deserted car park. Draco pressed one last, quick kiss to Hermione's lips and she followed even as he pulled away.

"Hermione—"

"No." She pulled him into another kiss by the collar of his shirt. They were nose-to-nose when she said, "Because I don't know what to do, where to go from here. So I want to stay here. Right here."

Draco pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek and insisted, "You have to go now, golden girl."

Hermione kissed him one final time before opening the door to the X5 and launching herself out with a whispered,

"Happy birthday."