TW: Miscarriage (Discussed)
CW: Mild Sexual Content
CW: Strong Language

"Hermione!"

She turned around from where she'd been picking at one of the catering trays and popped some sort of cheese ball into her mouth. She smiled to see Dean walking down the steps to this parterre; Hermione's new favourite part of the manor gardens. Blaise Zabini was right behind him, looking every bit like the Roman god Ginny claimed he was. Dean made his way over to Hermione as she finished chewing and swallowed.

"How are you?" asked Dean. He gave her a gentle hug and said, "You look great."

"Thanks."

Hermione had changed into a short-sleeved navy jumper with "Christian Dior" written across the front. It was as good a time as any to practice wearing clothes that did not fully cover her arm and neck. She hoped the designer label across her tits was a distraction from her arm. Her friends wouldn't be shocked, at least. She paired it with jeans and, inspired by Scorpius, a pair of "heels that look like trainers" because everyone around Draco seemed to be so tall. Zabini shook Hermione's hand then nodded to her left arm.

"What happened there?"

Dean closed his eyes and grimaced. Before he could be mortified and embarrassed enough, Hermione replied,

"A bomb."

"Ah." Zabini offered, "It looks rather impressive, to me."

That gave Hermione pause. Zabini was so clearly dedicated to his appearance; his skin was flawless even up close, it resulted in an oddly meaningful compliment.

"Thank you."

"Dean tells me—"

Zabini was interrupted by a familiar face. Before any of them realized, Ron had rushed over to their group and grabbed Hermione by the waist. She grinned and hugged him around the shoulders as he kissed her cheek. Ron placed her back on the ground and said,

"How's my girl?"

"Shocked you came."

Hermione couldn't stop smiling. It was nice to see Ron. It was always nice to see Ron. It was similar to the way she was with Viktor, comfortable in his arms and yet … In the past. Ron squeezed her good shoulder then nodded to Dean before offering his hand to Zabini.

"We haven't met. I'm Ron Weasley."

"Blaise Zabini."

"Good to meet you. Dean's been talking about you quite often. God, you've got to be the prettiest bloke I've ever seen." He looked back at Dean to say, "Nice pull, mate. Nice pull."

Dean, blushing, asked, "How's your family?"

"Well Percy's being Percy—"

Hermione mumbled under her breath, "Git."

"Gin's on the World Cup bench and everyone else is exactly the same. Though, now that my mum's got so many grandkids she's already knitting sweaters for Christmas."

Blaise perked up and asked, "Your mother knits sweaters?"

"I'm here, also, by the way."

Harry appeared as if from nowhere. Shit. Shit. Harry hadn't been out of the house in so long, they'd all forgotten to look for him. Hermione could tell Ron was anxious to speak to Blaise Zabini, so she took Harry's hand in her own.

"Dance with me?"

He nodded and Hermione led him over to a space by the folksy string trio. Hermione admitted,

"I'm not certain how much dancing I can really do in these shoes, but we will work it out."

They did. It was nice, actually, to see Harry outside. Hermione could see him ease into the joy of being around people again. One song, then another, and halfway through the third both she and Harry were falling into giggles on each other's shoulders. Parvati was teaching Scorpius and Albus to dance nearby. Hermione noted everyone had since arrived, split off into a few different conversations. Penelope was in deep discussion with Luna. Narcissa Malfoy carefully watched everything from her spot near the fountain with a glass of champagne. She saw the back of Draco's head while he was in conversation with Cedric. Ron was talking to Blaise while Dean had made his way over to Neville and Hannah.

"Everyone seems to fit together well so far," said Harry.

"I'm anxious for Ron to meet Draco."

"They've met."

Hermione frowned and asked, "How do you mean? I know they spoke on the phone—"

"The day he drove you back from hospital, we ran into him as he was exiting your flat. Ron punched him."

"No." Hermione stopped dancing, horrified. "Oh my God. You must be joking."

Harry conceded, "Erm, I probably shouldn't have mentioned that."

"My ex-husband punched my boyfriend."

"Yeah. Dean took care of it, though—"

"Dean knew about this, too?"

"So did Zabini, I mean, it was a tense situation. You'd called Ron the night before in tears, so what the bloody hell were we meant to think when you texted from hospital the next day?"

"That I was handling my own affairs, perhaps?"

"Honestly, Hermione, I'm still not certain you're handling your affairs. This party was for Blaise and Dean, you and Malfoy were not much consideration."

"But—"

"Look, I like him. Malfoy's an asshole, but he's hot and he clearly cares for you. He is also trying to be a better father to his son, and I've spent the past year or so realizing how fucking difficult that is. If Malfoy didn't tell you about the confrontation, maybe it's because none of us were in our proper heads at that moment."

Hermione sighed and conceded, "You're right."

"And he's walking over here, so maybe just have a good time with your boyfriend."

"What are you going to do then?"

"Have some time with my son. We haven't been outside together in a long while."

Hermione nodded and watched as Harry stole Albus away from their tiny dance party. Parvati took Scorpius over to make other conversation, leaving Hermione alone on that side of the parterre. Hermione felt Draco's hands around her waist before she saw him. He said,

"You look great tonight, Golden Girl."

Hermione tugged him around in front of her and said, "It's only a jumper."

"I like when you feel good enough to wear shorter sleeves. It means you're comfortable."

"I'm comfortable around you."

"The best compliment you can give me." Draco smiled and asked, "Can I kiss you?"

"I said you no longer need to ask," replied Hermione.

"That was when we were alone; now everyone's watching. They're pretending not to, but they are all watching."

Draco bent down the slightest bit and kissed her as if to say hello. He lingered a moment then pulled away to say,

"Since my ex-boyfriend and your ex-husband are staring at us, I feel it may be inappropriate to kiss you the way I did earlier."

"I agree." Hermione looked Draco up and down and muttered, "Incredible."

Draco's cheeks turned pink.

"You think?"

He was in black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a very flattering jacket. Black, again, but with an eagle embroidered on either side of his chest. He'd kept it unzipped and there was an ease about Draco that Hermione hadn't seen before. He left his hair half-down and it fell to the centre of his back. Something was different but she couldn't quite place it. All she could say was,

"It's so strange to see you in trainers."

Draco laughed and conceded, "I imagine it is."

"Your son seems to be quite the conversationalist."

Hermione watched as Draco surveyed Scorpius, standing in front of Luna and Dean. They had turned two of the chairs outward from the table and were leaning in to listen to what Scorpius had to say. Hermione watched as Luna pulled a pen and piece of paper from her pocket. Hermione rolled her eyes and said,

"She's always got the most random things in her pockets. I once asked her for lip balm and she pulled out a portable watercolour paintbrush."

Draco guessed, "You don't like her?"

"No." Hermione admitted, "I never have. She'll go on about wrackspurts and rising moons, but Dean adores her so I tolerate it."

"Yet, you commissioned her—"

"Zabini commissioned her. I had nothing to do with the artistic bits of your gift; Bastien and I were logistics."

"You are a very logical person."

"Yes."

"It makes me wonder, then, what your logic was in returning to a job which nearly got you killed."

Hermione shrugged and replied, "Nearly, but it didn't."

"That's a shit answer."

"You wish to hear the full one, then?"

Draco insisted, "Of course. I want to know why you do the things you do."

"For all the discussion about my choice to return to the Arab League, it was hardly a choice. The goal I set for my journalism career was to cover conflict that went under-reported. I hoped to be based in Southeast Asia, but I am not fluent enough in Malay to merit that post. I went where I was qualified to go." Hermione gave her customary, pretend-it's-not-a-big-deal one-shoulder shrug. "All I wanted was to shine a light on the people bearing the burden of war. When I got blown up, the spotlight was on me. BBC reporter caught up in an explosion, nearly dismembered, nearly dead. I was the centre of the story so I needed to go back to put the focus back where it belonged."

Draco shook his head.

"You are incredible."

"No, I am a journalist. I am a good, fair journalist. That does not make me incredible."

"It does."

"There is nothing impressive about what I do. Yes, it's dangerous. Driving trains is also dangerous, being an electrician is dangerous, and mine happens to be the risky job done in front of cameras."

Draco looked up at the sky and sighed.

"What does make you incredible, then?"

"My tits."

Hermione looked over as Draco dissolved into a fit of laughter. She blushed a bit. Her humour had been stashed so far back on the shelf the past several years. It was nice to know she could make Draco laugh. He was always gorgeous and a good father, things that attracted Hermione immediately. Something about this newfound freedom to laugh made him seem far more like a man she wanted to be around than anything else about him.

They mingled a bit, talked to everyone at the party, and ate some food. Draco gently placed his arm on her shoulders in conversation, always bracing himself against the right and barely grazing the left. Or he held her hand like it was the most natural thing. However he did it, Draco could not seem to stop touching her. It was a nice time, and everyone seemed to get along rather well. As the sun set, Draco and Hermione found themselves once again alone in conversation. Sitting in chairs toward one end of the table, everyone else faded away.

"You seem different tonight." Hermione added, "You look different."

Draco shrugged.

"It's the jacket."

Hermione shook her head and insisted, "You look like you feel different."

"Maybe I do. I've been thinking about something my father used to say to me. He said when he looked at me he thought he somehow raised both a daughter and a son. I'd forgotten about that over the past year-and-a-half without him."

"Perhaps you should continue to forget about him."

"That is like asking you to forget your own face," said Draco. "I am still trying to understand what my father meant. In a way, I get it." He nodded toward Harry and said, "Your friend, Potter, he is bisexual but you'd never know. He married a woman, two sons, medically retired from the most masculine career anyone can have. A soldier, a proper man. When people look at me, the immediate reaction is 'he's clearly bent all the way 'round.'"

Hermione shook her head and insisted, "That's not true."

"Isn't it?"

"When I saw you for the first time, I saw how much you care for your son. You'd knelt down to hug him, and I felt immediately that you were exactly what I was looking for: a family that was missing a single piece. I remember thinking you have great hair and impeccable style. My instinct was to laugh because why would I pay your mother to set me up with someone when you were already there in front of me? Then I saw your wedding band and tried to force those thoughts away rather unsuccessfully."

"And you didn't think, 'Oh, he's clearly into men?'"

"No. You said straightaway you weren't into anyone."

"I suppose that is fair. I keep trying to figure out what he meant because I don't feel effeminate. I don't feel soft. What did he see when he looked at me that made him think—"

"He saw your mum."

Hermione watched as Draco's frown deepened. He crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned back in his chair, demonstrably perplexed.

"You think—"

"You are number what in the Malfoy lineage?"

"Nineteen."

"Seventeen generations before your father, then, they managed to have sons who grew up to be like them. Your father was like his father who was like his father and his father and so on. Your dad made the mistake of marrying someone far more powerful than he could ever be. Your mum is terrifying, she is impossibly firm in who she is and what she wants. My guess is your dad looked at you and saw himself on the outside but saw your mum on the inside."

"Oh." Draco's face morphed into something different, like he was in pain. "Oh."

Hermione poked at the food on her plate, wondering whether she said something wrong. Everything Draco had said about his father made him sound like a horrific person. There was physical abuse, awful enough on its own, but the way Lucius Malfoy went about life seemed completely counter to how Draco had chosen to live his.

"When you said, just now, what you said, I understand what everyone has been saying to me. They say, 'You are going to love Hermione the way your father loved your mother.' I thought that was ridiculous because my father was very intense about his devotion, to a degree I find absurd. However, as I sit here, I realize I've accepted you into my family. I confessed my love not only to you, but to your closest friends and my own. All this, and I can count the times I've kissed you on one hand."

Hermione supposed that was accurate. Draco continued,

"I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you succeed at whatever it is you choose to do. If you want the UN job, say it and Percy Weasley will be dead by Tuesday."

Hermione wanted to laugh, but Draco was serious. He had the sort of money to make that happen.

"If you want a home, a family, anything, Hermione, I'd give it to you." Draco admitted, "It's scaring me."

"It does not frighten me, but I am curious why. What have I done that is so different from your wife to merit this level of commitment?"

"I don't know whether I have the words for it."

"Try."

Draco breathed out heavily through his nose. He looked up toward the sky and thought about it for several moments. He settled on,

"Astoria made me understand the sort of man and father I want to be. You, Hermione, are showing me how to be the Malfoy man I was meant to be."

Hermione took a moment to process the weight of that statement. Her hands were shaking a bit, knowing Draco cared so much for their relationship while she was still one foot in and one foot out. She admitted,

"I'm not sure I want that responsibility."

"I think it's too late, Golden Girl. I'm yours."

"What—"

"OI!" Bastien's voice rang throughout the gardens. He held up his phone and shouted, "GINNY'S OFF THE BENCH!"

Draco stood up and shouted, "Follow me!"

There was a mad dash out of the garden, but Parvati didn't move from her chair. Hermione waited for everyone else to clear out, watching the band wind down their set. Parvati slumped forward onto the table, so Hermione moved to sit next to her.

"Is something wrong?"

Parvati sat up and revealed, without preamble,

"I was pregnant for a few weeks." Parvati sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Six or seven, maybe eight or nine, I suppose. I didn't know until it disappeared. Or appeared as this rush of blood and gobs of something else, then it kept oozing out of me in the most humiliating way. The same moment I realized I had something I've wanted for such a long time, with a man I love, was the moment I realized I didn't have it anymore."

Hermione's heart ached for Parvati. She loved Cedric, they seemed so happy together, and they both wanted a child. They would make great parents and this must have felt like an unbearable setback.

"What did Cedric say?"

"All the stuff you hope a man would say. It's okay. We will try again once we are married. I am more important to him than having kids. He said something so stupidly perfect, it was," Parvati rested her head in her hands, "I have you and I'll always have you. A family of two is as happy for me as a family of three or four or more. So stupid because it's not. He wants to be a dad, I want to be a mum, we want this thing and I couldn't do it."

Hermione offered, "Statistically, men can be just as responsible for miscarriages. Maybe Cedric has shitty sperm."

Parvati laughed and devolved into giggles. She nudged Hermione with her elbow and insisted,

"There is nothing wrong with that man's sperm. Nothing wrong with any part of him, and I finally saw that we weren't working. He asked me to marry him, you know."

"That's great!"

"I turned him down."

"Not great."

"He's moved out of the flat; he's in a hotel."

"Oh, Ti." Hermione rubbed her back and said, "I'm sorry that is how things ended for you both."

"It exploded. It—" Parvati mimed a volcano exploding with her hands. "Booooosh. The sex is good. Really, really good. I've never been with a man who could evolve our relationship in the bedroom the way he has. As our relationship moved forward, it got better. I learned things—"

"No." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, insisting, "These are the things about Cedric I do not wish to know."

"I knew what was happening. I was on the toilet, Googling and sobbing, hoping there would be something, anything to tell me I'm wrong. That what I was feeling wasn't what I knew it was."

Hermione asked, "Why didn't you call someone? We would have been there for you."

"Gin's away, you were about to be on-air, and as much as I love Dean …" She shrugged. "This is a woman problem."

"I understand."

"I couldn't call Padma because she doesn't want kids and she doesn't get it. She would probably say I could try again, and the timing wasn't good anyway. She would be right about all of it because she is always right. Her and Bastien are perfect, and my mum's started making comments about the proper age to be a mum. 'I'm getting older, Parvati, and I don't want to be an old grandmother.' I felt so insecure that I was losing the baby. All I could hear was her voice in my head telling me I am failing. Padma never had any expectation to live up to because we all knew she was a powerful boss bitch who would stay single forever."

"She didn't."

"The saddest thing is, that's who Cedric wants."

Hermione frowned.

"You think Cedric is interested in Padma?"

"No, of course not." Parvati began crying again, insisting, "You're missing the point."

Hermione hugged Parvati around the shoulders as best she could and said, "Explain it again."

"He doesn't want me," sobbed Parvati. "He convinced himself that he did, but he doesn't. I failed him twice."

"No, Ti. No, you didn't. Sometimes people who love each other don't work out. Look at me and Ron. I love him in so many ways that we should have been perfect together."

"But you had Viktor bloody Krum and now you've got a gorgeous billionaire boyfriend." Parvati let her face fall into her hands. "I just c-can't find the proper man."

Hermione teased, "Viktor's available, and I can personally attest to his skills behind closed doors. If you don't mind the fact that his knees barely work and he is about to give up the only career he's ever known …" She shrugged. "Maybe that is what you are looking for."

"I could never be with a man you loved the way you loved him."

"Why not?"

"Because … I can't say. It feels wrong."

"There's your problem, Ti." Hermione squeezed her shoulder with one hand. "You give your husband unnecessary qualifications. If Viktor asked you out, one of the most celebrated athletes of the past thirty years, you would say no because I dated him fourteen years ago?"

Parvati laughed and placed her hand overtop Hermione's. She wondered,

"Am I really so picky?"

"Cedric is pretty well the top of the list." Hermione conceded, "I am curious why he isn't married. I never asked because that is not the sort of thing we talk about often, but he is weirdly perfect."

"So perfect."

"If he is perfect and he can't find someone to be with, Parvati, then you are on the same path. You'll both find someone when you are meant to."

"If you ask my mum, that would involve a time machine."

"Well I'm asking you. Do you know what you want?"

Parvati shook her head. Hermione leaned closer and said,

"Then you have to let it find you. Keep being who you are and then love will find you the way it found Padma. The way it's found me three times, now. You didn't fail Cedric, the only failure would have been if you agreed to marry him knowing you wouldn't be happy."

Parvati grimaced.

"D'you know what the worst part of this whole experience has been?"

"Tell me."

"The real reason I wore a lehenga tonight?" Parvati pulled up the hem of her skirt and gestured toward her feet. "My ankles are the size of balloons!"

Hermione pressed her lips together and tried desperately not to laugh. Parvati's ankles were swollen to an absurd degree.

"I don't have a baby or a boyfriend, but I've got ham-sized ankles!"

Hermione doubled-over in laughter. Parvati swatted at her and halfheartedly insisted,

"It's not funny!"

"Ti, I'm sorry, but that's awful." Hermione snickered. "I feel so sorry for you, I do, but they do look a bit like hams."

"You've got a crispy arm and I've got ham ankles."

"What a pair."

Parvati agreed, a bit happier than she had been all night, "Quite the pair."

.oOo.

Dessert was served in the manor ballroom, where chairs had been set up in front of a giant screen. Hermione spent her time toward the back of the room, eyeing Draco and Ron next to each other in their chairs. Occasionally Draco leaned to his right just a bit, as if discreetly saying something to Ron, who would either shrug or tilt his head the slightest bit in reply.

Neville and Hannah were talking to Theo and his wife in chairs further to the right side. Hermione looked at them and they felt so … Normal? Regular people who had never been blown up, shot, or broadcast on national television. Hermione so often found herself in the midst of wealthy, famous people who were in the centre of the social zeitgeist. Looking at the four of them, though, part of Hermione longed for their normalcy. Just a tiny, meager bit of her soul wondered whether she was the sort of woman who could enjoy coming home to her husband and son at the end of the day.

"Hermione?"

She looked down to see Scorpius with a bit of paper clutched in one hand. He yawned and his eyes squinted shut, then he started to cry. Hermione knelt down in front of him and asked,

"What's wrong?"

"Miss Luna drew me a tree." Scorpius showed Hermione an elaborate tree on the napkin, with Luna's signature in the lower-right corner. Scorpius sniffled and said, "I'm so happy. I don't know where to put all the happy."

Hermione smiled at him and pulled him into a hug.

"Oh, baby blond, you keep the happy and hold onto it as long as you can."

"Okay." He sniffled again and said, "I'm sleepy. Al is sleeping on the floor."

Hermione looked over to where Albus was curled up against the leg of Theo's chair. She said,

"Do you want me to take you both to your room?"

Scorpius nodded.

Hermione woke up Albus and they both followed Scorpius through the manor halls, upstairs to Scorpius's room. His bed was piled high with teddy bears in little F1 kits, but he appeared to be rather organized. Or, Hermione supposed, it could've been the maids' and butlers' doing. Scorpius placed Luna's drawing in a free space on a shelf, so Hermione said,

"We will get you a frame."

Scorpius and Albus changed into their pyjamas then each climbed into the bed.

"Are you boys okay?"

Scorpius flopped onto his side and asked Albus, "You okay, best friend?"

"Sleepy, best friend."

Hermione was about to leave when she noticed the smattering of things around the lamp on Scorpius's bedside table. Included was Penelope's business card. Hermione pointed to it and asked,

"Why is this here?"

"Oh. That's from Miss Pub-list. She makes bad things go away, so I keep her so monsters stay away."

Hermione smiled, knowing she would have to tell Penelope about that later on. Scorpius flopped back over and nestled himself under the covers. He said,

"Bye, Hermione."

"Good night, Scorpius. Goodnight, Al."

"Night, Hermione."

Hermione closed the door behind her and began travelling back down the hall. The manor did not feel quite so melancholy as it had the previous times Hermione visited. Perhaps it was having so many of her friends present, there was a balance that—

"God, yes, yes …"

Hermione froze. That was Penelope's voice, and it was not a conversation happening in Narcissa Malfoy's study. Hermione stepped just the slightest bit in front of the doorway to find her longtime friend having an orgasm courtesy of her boyfriend's mum. Penelope wrapped her arm around Narcissa's shoulders as she came. She braced herself as Narcissa continued to do whatever the hell her hand was doing under Penelope's dress. Hermione could guess, but preferred not to. Penelope's breaths were sharp and quick as Narcissa held her by the waist with her free arm.

Hermione stepped backward, afraid to go any further into their view. She would simply have to stay in the shadows of the hallway until they left. She should leave them to this private moment, but could not bring herself to move. If she moved, she risked alerting them to her presence and humiliating them both. She heard the unmistakable sound of a sloppy post-orgasm kiss before Penelope said,

"Thank you."

"I am afraid we have something important to discuss."

"Why?"

Hermione heard a smile in Penelope's voice. She had never heard Penelope so soft. Hermione assumed she was domineering in every bit of her life. Then again, if ever there was a proper teacher in that regard it was Narcissa Malfoy.

"It was nice to see you around people your age, my lovely, beautiful girl." Narcissa sighed. "That is something you need."

"You gave it to me. You always give me what I need."

"In truth, you have outgrown me."

There was a long pause before Penelope said, "I don't understand."

"I have kept you long enough, far past when I should. I am no longer a mentor to you, Penelope, I am stifling your growth. You deserve to find a love that will make you feel as though you are an equal."

"I know I'm not the love of your life, Narcissa, I know. I am happy as a replacement. Seeing you makes me happy, and I don't care that you still love Lucius exponentially more than you care for me. Being with you is the best part of my life—"

"It isn't." Narcissa said, "That you believe it is, means it is time for this to end."

This was no whirlwind romance. It sounded like this had been a longtime relationship. The first day when Hermione sat in that very office, Narcissa said she was her sixth collaboration with Penelope. Evidently they had been engaging in two very different forms of "collaboration." Hermione wanted to be disgusted by it, offended, but …

"Is that why you did this?" Penelope asked, "You got me off just to say goodbye? I don't believe you would do that to me."

"Just now you said you are happy as a replacement. Penelope, my strong, fierce woman, I taught you better. You are far more than a replacement for anything, and you are suffocating your own life to stay in mine."

"No. I don't believe that."

"Do you want to be me, or do you want to be my husband?!" Narcissa shouted, "If you wish to be like Lucius, a powerful, well-resourced person who answers to me? Then stay. When we met, what did you say you wanted?"

"To be you."

"Did I not teach you how?" asked Narcissa. "Have I not shown you how to properly step into and out of the spotlight? Have I not opened doors for you?"

"Of course you have."

"Did I not welcome you into every facet of my life? I welcomed you into my home, into my work, into my bed with my husband, did I not?"

"Yes."

Hermione stopped herself from gagging. That was gross. She should not have heard that.

"You are not meant to be my girl for the rest of your life."

"What if I want to be?"

"Then I have been wrong about you the entire time we've known each other."

Penelope sobbed. A sound that broke Hermione's heart. She was always so strong, unflappable, Penelope shouldn't even be capable of making a noise like that. Penelope took a deep breath in and managed to say,

"I think I knew this was coming, and I hate that you're not wrong. More than anything, I am afraid to let go of you because I'll have to believe in myself alone, now."

"You always have."

"Will you say you love me, just once?" Penelope begged, "Eight years, and there has never been anyone else. I love you, and I only want—" Penelope sniffled. "If you intend for this to be goodbye, can you at least tell me there was something, some tiny space in your heart for me, too?"

"I do not wish to lie to you."

Eight years? Hermione felt the slightest bit betrayed that she let Penelope in, trusted Penelope with her career, and Penelope had kept this from her for so long. Then again, Narcissa was married and Penelope was … Well, Hermione assumed Penelope was straight but it appeared Hermione knew hardly anything about her.

"Narcissa, please." Penelope only wanted it confirmed. "I am begging for this one thing, the last thing."

"You are not this desperate, Penelope. You were a mirror for me at a time when I had lost the ability to see myself. My time with you is invaluable, and if you believe this hurts my heart any less than it does yours, you are mistaken. Since I lost my husband, you have helped me to heal that wound as best I can."

"Would that you could heal the heartache you've caused me tonight."

"This pain will pass. You will find the proper partner sooner than you believe."

Penelope, in a broken voice, asked, "How do I find someone who can compare to you?"

"You won't. You must find someone who can compare to you."

"Eight years together, Cissa, and it ends like this?"

"No."

The noise coming from the study was faint, but Hermione knew it to be a delicate, lingering kiss.

"That is how you say goodbye to a lover." A brief pause before Narcissa revealed, "The only reason I am letting you go is because I love you."

Penelope rushed out of the study, staring at the floor the whole way down the hall. She would not have seen Hermione even if she looked up, but that was a broken woman heading downstairs. Penelope tried to adjust her dress but was pressing her hand against her chest as if to keep that part of herself from crumbling.

Then Hermione recalled the awkward moment in her flat when Draco said, "I wish I didn't know what that was about." It was this. He knew. Then again, it was not his secret to divulge. If Penelope and his mother had hidden their relationship for so many years—

"The walls whisper to me, Miss Granger."

Hermione jumped. Narcissa was standing in the doorway, looking straight at her in the shadows, though there was no easy way she could see Hermione.

"How much did you hear?"

Hermione knew better than to answer.

"We met when Penelope was a press assistant at Downing Street. My husband was in prison and I was in agony away from him. Lucius would never have agreed to a second man in our marriage, but a woman was someone we could share. I never considered myself interested in anything of the sort until I found her. Now that she is available to love, she will see it has been waiting for her. I kept her from it for years, and I am sorry."

Hermione found her voice enough to ask, "You have a plan for who it is?"

"You will see, Miss Granger." Narcissa gently patted the bottom of her eyes. "I need to grieve alone, now."

"You acted as matchmaker for your own lover?"

"Yes." Narcissa turned back into the study and said, "You may go."

She slammed the door closed and Hermione rushed by. What an awful mess. Her world had been intertwined with Draco's for nearly a decade and she hadn't known. Hermione made her way downstairs and realized when Penelope began seeing Narcissa—And her husband?—Draco must've been newly engaged to Astoria. The timeline made sense, though, didn't it? Narcissa Malfoy seeing her son get engaged to a woman he cared for so deeply, knowing the man she cared for was still years out of reach. Stumbling into Penelope, seeing a younger version of herself? Half-vanity and half-desperation likely turned into something far more than Narcissa anticipated.

Padma came over to Hermione as she entered the ballroom, most everyone else still in their chairs as the match seemed to be winding down. Padma revealed,

"Ti and Cedric broke up. He's on the steps out front waiting for a car."

"Oh."

"Would you care to tell me why?"

Hermione shook her head and said, "I'd prefer not to. I think it's best if Ti does that herself."

"Is it bad?" Padma's voice was heavy with concern. "She tells me everything. What could she possibly hope to keep from me?"

"This is one thing you would have trouble understanding."

"Is it?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then I trust your judgement."

She headed back toward the series of chairs in front of the screen and sat next to Bastien. She rested her head on his shoulder. Tension was radiating from Bastien, but Padma's presence seemed to calm him the slightest bit. A few minutes later, Hannah sidled up to Hermione and said,

"You look like you've seen something rather unpleasant."

"I have."

"I know it's awful of me, but I've been ducking into the guest bathrooms and stealing the unopened soaps." Hannah opened her purse to reveal five full bars. "One of these sells for thirty pounds!"

"Seems a bit outrageous."

"But it smells delicious." Hannah grinned and said, "I love this. Speaking of soaps, it feels like I'm in one with all this drama. And a free night at a mansion? This is my perfect weekend. Neville's hardly looked at his phone, he's been speaking to Theo Nott all evening about the elasticity of plant cells."

"Wonderful."

The match ended sometime afterward and everything seemed to be happening around Hermione. Hannah spoke the truth, it felt like they were in a daytime soap. My television partner broke up with my best friend, whose twin is married to his best friend. My publicist was dumped by my boyfriend's mum. My ex-husband is here alongside my boyfriend and his ex-boyfriend, for whom this party is an official coming out of sorts with his new boyfriend, also one of my best friends. And my only normal friends are stealing the soap. Her head was spinning.

.oOo.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry found themselves sitting on the floor of the blue guestroom, leaning against one side of the bed. Ron spoke first.

"Feels like everything's fucked."

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "I don't think Ti and Diggory broke up tonight, I think it's been simmering awhile."

"It has been," confirmed Hermione. "Parvati's going through a rough time."

Ron insisted, "She hasn't said anything—"

"It's not the sort of hard times you can help with. Sometimes things happen." Hermione sighed. "As Ti said, this is a woman problem."

"Oh." Ron conceded, "Definitely not my skill set, then."

Harry said, "You don't have to fix everything, you know."

"If I don't, who will?"

Simultaneously, Harry and Hermione replied,

"Padma."

"I suppose. You seem happy, 'Mione." Ron sighed and admitted, "I wish you weren't, a bit. I want Malfoy to be as horrible as I thought he was, but he's just … sad. He's a bit sad and standing next to him is a fucking bummer of a time."

"He's not over losing his wife." Hermione revealed, "I love him, he loves me, but he is still sort of balancing the two of us. What were you two discussing?"

"That's between us." Ron teased, "A man problem."

Hermione nudged his knee with hers and said, "You are ridiculous."

"I like him," said Harry. "If both you and Dean are married to billionaires by the time Jay is starting uni, d'you think they'll pay for tuition?"

Hermione laughed.

"Stop."

"What?" Harry teased, "I'm saying I like him as an investment property."

Ron agreed, "Brilliant."

"I don't know whether we'll be together long enough for that to happen."

"What?!" shouted Harry.

Simultaneously, Ron asked, "Why?!"

Hermione nodded toward Ron and said, "We've known each other decades. When we got married, we'd known each other for half our lives and we loved each other."

"All true."

"You left me because the life you wanted did not involve your wife being routinely shipped off to places where she could die. Granted, I do that less often now, but someday there will be a conflict in the Arab League that needs me reporting on the ground. The moment Draco sees me on camera with explosions in the background, he'll start seeing Astoria. He's going to feel the same way you did, and he will leave me." Hermione slumped the slightest bit lower. "Until my career is over, I don't believe marriage is something that can happen."

"I didn't want to leave you." Ron admitted, "I never stopped loving you. If you don't think I'm jealous of Malfoy and the way he gets to touch you now … I miss it. I miss our life together so much, but I was fucking terrified every day for months. Watching you go back into surgery for more skin grafts week after week, all those nights you'd fall asleep crying because you couldn't move. Changing your bandages, trying to convince you not to murder Oliver, I did all of that because I loved you. And you and I both know you were nowhere near fully healed when you went to Libya. You lied to BBC so you could be on the ground doing what you loved. I couldn't watch you do that as your husband, it was fucking terrifying. It's hard enough to do as your friend."

Hermione conceded, "It was stupid."

"Yes."

Harry offered, "Maybe Malfoy will handle it better, knowing he can get through the grief since he's already done it once."

"No, we discussed it."

"You discussed it?"

"He said that he would not be able to go on."

Ron let out a low hiss through his teeth.

"That's a dangerous trap he's caught himself in."

Harry said, "Gin and I talked about it every year. The day after our anniversary, we'd sit down and ask ourselves, could we do this another year? Another deployment, another series of weeks where I would be in a warzone. Gin has always understood the risk and we planned out how she'd tell the kids if I died. I think, um, the one thing we didn't plan for was what happened."

"You don't have to talk about it."

"Good," replied Harry, "because I haven't had nearly enough alcohol for that."

"Switching the subject, then," Ron revealed, "Zabini plans to phone my mum because he wants to learn to knit."

Hermione wondered, "Why?"

"He wants to knit Dean sweaters."

Harry asked, "So what do we think of him?"

"I cannot place him." Hermione admitted, "I want to like him, but he seems a bit … reserved. Dean mentioned he's quite famous on Instagram—"

"Very famous on Instagram," confirmed Harry. He had a cheeky expression on his face when he said, "Rightfully so."

"Doing what?" asked Ron.

"Being hot." Harry shrugged and asked, "What else can you be famous for on Instagram?"

"He is … Can I say he's pretty?" Ron asked, "Is it okay to say he's pretty? Because I'm straight, I don't think I have ever looked at a man before and really thought about their looks much. I saw him and it was so obvious that's a goddamn beautiful man." Ron shuddered and admitted, "That's the kind of thing that has me asking questions about myself I don't want answered."

"Well Dean is three-quarters moved into Zabini's house. He phoned me a few weeks ago to say he is afraid of being Padma, moving too quickly—"

"Padma has the best marriage of any of us," replied Hermione.

"Which is exactly what I told him. Then Dean said he's not sure whether he is good enough for Blaise, afraid that ten years down the line someone else will appear like they did with Shea."

"Do you believe they will?" asked Ron. "Is Zabini the type to … I hate to blame Seamus, I do, I think there is more to what he did than we've been willing to see. But I don't want Dean going through that again. Is there any chance Zabini—"

"No." Harry shook his head and insisted, "No. Gin's been trying to set them up for years. The moment Dean was divorced, she wanted to phone Blaise. She couldn't find the proper time, didn't know when Dean would be ready, all that shit. Blaise Zabini has been looking for the perfect person for a long time. He could have literally any man he wants, and I mean that. If he was just hoping for the average marriage, he would've been married a long time ago. He chose Dean because he thinks they're soulmates. If this implodes, it's on Dean."

"At this party," asked Ron, "what hasn't imploded? Parvati and Diggory broke up. Padma isn't speaking to Ti. Bastien's head is liable to explode, then Malfoy's clearly nervous about shagging Hermione because he hasn't had sex in years. Dean is still unsure about the future with his great boyfriend and I even saw Hermione's publicist crying in the hallway."

Hermione ached for Penelope. If it was Narcissa who was guiding her all these years, making her happy, then she lost the most meaningful relationship she's ever had. As far as Hermione knew, the only love she ever had. Each of them looked up to the ceiling with a collective feeling of helplessness. Perhaps this party needed to happen so they could all see the struggles that had been simmering right below the surface. Hermion offered,

"At least Neville and Hannah seem to be having a nice time?"