50.
The next morning went like a dream. The scent of coffee dragged Hermione out of a comfortable doze, and she opened her eyes to Malfoy, setting a mug down on her bedside table. "Oh, you're amazing."
"Good morning, Granger." He bent and kissed her temple, and then rounded the bed in nothing but his boxers, pale and lean and lovely. He slid back under the covers with an easy grace as she struggled up out of bed with rather less grace and headed for the bathroom, stretching as she went. The idea of him pottering about making coffee in her kitchen, in nothing but his boxers, made Hermione smile to herself as she shut the bathroom door behind her. It was so deliciously domestic. It was nice to note that her guilt had subsided to a gentle simmer; easy to push down, and quash. Ron was busy sleeping with Chastity right at this very moment, no doubt, so Hermione refused to feel bad about her and Malfoy. Not when his presence at her house was entirely discreet.
She settled back into bed leaning against Malfoy's chest, his arm hooked around her, drinking her coffee as they made small talk, the bedroom curtains open to let the pale winter sun in. That also felt very domestic.
"So, what're your plans today?" he asked, and she felt a kiss drop on the top of her head. She smiled.
"I'd been thinking of taking Rose into Hogsmeade – and getting permission to take Hugo as well." She craned her neck back to try to catch his gaze and ended up staring at his chin. She gave up. "What about you?"
"Well, I suddenly find myself wondering about taking Scorpius into Hogsmeade," he said, his tone light and innocent, and undercut with mischief. "Maybe having lunch at Madam Puddifoot's, and stopping by a few other shops while we're in there."
"What a coincidence!" Hermione played along, grinning to herself as she drew her legs up under the blankets, happiness bubbling through her. "Maybe I'll see you there, then?"
"Well, we could always go in together..."
"Mm, but the press... I mean, I know there's not a lot of point in discretion now, but with the way they are at the moment –" Since the breakout from Azkaban had been linked to Usbourne's death after attacking Hermione, and the arrest of his daughter Olinda had become known, the press had been rather more keen on Hermione than usual. The headlines were full of florid interpretations of what had actually happened. Happily, none of the media outlets seemed to have realised Usbourne had arranged for Hermione's kidnapping, all describing his actions as an attack within her home. Although some of them were rather gruesome.
"It might be best to meet at Hogsmeade?" Malfoy finished, and Hermione nodded.
"Yeah." It probably wouldn't make much difference, but it made Hermione feel more comfortable. She'd take the children and Malfoy somewhere more private and discreet – the Folly even – but that would seem too much like a date, and she felt uncomfortable involving the children in that. No, happening upon each other at Hogsmeade felt more natural, even if it was entirely manufactured. She nestled back against Malfoy. "Madam Puddifoot's, at midday?"
"Sounds perfect."
The rest of their morning went just as restfully. They crawled out of bed at 9 am, and she showered – resisting the urge to have him join her, thanks to her period – and then he put her hair in order with the charm he still hadn't shown her. Hermione cooked a breakfast of sweetcorn fritters, eggs, fried tomatoes and toast, while Malfoy showered and then sat himself down at the breakfast bar. He skimmed the latest copy of the Wandsworth Guardian and various other assorted Muggle papers she was subscribed to, as well as the Daily Prophet, his hair damp and gleaming.
"It's all very boring really, isn't it?" he ventured as he flicked through, and Hermione shrugged as she flipped the eggs.
"I don't know. I rather enjoy keeping abreast of the Muggle world. I live in it, after all, as does most of my family."
"Yes, but whether or not bollards should be on a particular street, or the scourge of fly-tipping in a particular area, is not exactly riveting."
She laughed. "No, I suppose not. But you don't have to read all the boring bits, you know. You can skip ahead."
"I bet you like the crosswords," he observed with an odd glee as he came across one, and she hid her grin as she dished up their breakfasts. Was she so predictable? She supposed so, and honestly, she felt okay with that.
"I do," she said, as she slid his plate in front of him and rounded the counter, settling herself beside him. "Want to do one?" They did, as they ate. The standard and the cryptic, which was a difficult one that morning. And then not long after breakfast, he left, with a kiss that definitely broke their battered, rather trodden-on rules.
Madam Puddifoot's was a success; everyone stuffed themselves with fattening treats, and drank far too much pumpkin juice. Conversation flowed well, although Hugo kept giving Malfoy uncertain glances. Hermione made sure that she didn't sit near Malfoy, and the conversation was firmly about the children, and what they were doing. She didn't want to drag Hugo into what was adult drama by even hinting at a relationship. So instead she asked Rose about Michel – unfortunately not the right thing to bring up, as Rose blushed as red as her hair, and Hugo piped up to say that he'd seen the two of them in the corner of the Clocktower Courtyard, holding hands.
Rose quickly denied that, and pivoted the topic away from her by saying in self-defence that Hugo had taken a broomstick for a joyride all around the castle midweek, and it was only sheer luck a teacher hadn't spotted him. "Isn't that right, Scorp? He could've gotten in so much trouble. Or fallen off and broken his stupid neck."
"It was good flying though," Scorpius said diplomatically, mouth full of cupcake, looking sweet with his hair falling white-blond over his eyes, which were faintly smudged with eyeliner. That compliment wasn't enough to mollify Hugo, who retaliated by accusing Rose of sneaking out after curfew with Scorpius. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, eyeing his son, who shifted uncomfortably under his father's thoughtful gaze.
"How would you even know, Hufflepuff?" Rose retorted disdainfully.
"I have my ways. My sources. My informants," Hugo said darkly, with a wicked grin, and looked frighteningly like a dark-haired version of his Uncles for a moment. For all that he acted like a cheerful open book most of the time and never applied himself properly in class, Hermione had to remember Hugo had her sharp brain, and the Weasley tendency to mischief. She wondered what exactly he meant by sources, and informants.
"Oh stop it, you two! Honestly, you're an embarrassment," Hermione snapped as the pair of them devolved into outright name calling, some of it astonishingly inventive, while Scorpius smiled in awkward bemusement at the siblings' squabbling, and Malfoy silently laughed at Hermione's flustered attempts at refereeing them.
"You think you're so smart, but you're terrible at keeping secrets," Hugo shot at Rose. "Half my friends know all about Scor–" Hugo yelped, breaking off and glaring at his sister. "Ouch! Mum, Rose kicked me!"
"You say another word, and I'll hex you from here to Timbuktu!" Rose hissed furiously, and Hermione blinked in startlement, her eyes skidding over Scorpius – deeply uncomfortable – to Malfoy – concerned – to Hugo – mutinously glaring. Hermione had no clue how to handle this.
"Rose! Merlin's sake! Don't kick your brother or I'll take you back to school right now," she snapped in the end, slightly shrilly. Rose looked sullen, and Hermione felt like a fishwife screeching away in front of Malfoy, but when she looked at him, he was busy still staring steely-eyed at his son, who was avoiding his father's gaze determinedly. She kept half her attention on the pair of them as she scolded Rose and Hugo with the automatic skill of much practice, until they quieted. They bickered like cat and dog, and always had.
"Anything to share, Scorpius?" Malfoy asked mildly, and the boy shook his head. Malfoy sighed and nodded in defeat. And then – with a sympathetic amusement for Hermione, who was still glaring at her own delinquents – he asked aloud how the Quidditch season was going. It made a good distraction – all three of the children were at least invested in Quidditch, with Hugo rooting for Hufflepuff of course, while Rose and Scorpius supported Ravenclaw, which wasn't doing too well this year.
"Probably because I'm not on the team," Rose muttered, slightly sullenly, as she pushed her rather wild hair back over her shoulders. She'd never been sporty when it came to Muggle games, but she did love Quidditch and she'd been picked up as a Chaser this year. It had devastated her when she and James had been banned from playing because of the incident in the dungeons, with Scorpius. The pale boy looked rather guilty as he sat there picking at an eclair.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and Rose winced.
"Don't be, Scorp. It was worth it."
Silence fell for a moment, before Malfoy broke it again, by asking about Rose's broomstick, although Hermione had been able to see the strain on his face. If she was in his place, she'd probably be yelling at Scorpius to just tell her what in Merlin's name had happened. Why had James attacked him? What was going on? She would've lost her head, for sure – and she imagined that would only push the boy to clam up further. No, Malfoy was doing the only thing he could do. Waiting for Scorpius to open up of his own accord. And that had to be so hard. But he forced a smile, and showed an interest in Rose's broom, while talking about his own time playing for Slytherin.
And then Hugo wanted to share his flying prowess and insisted Hermione pull out her phone and show Malfoy the video of him whizzing around one of the professional stadiums, while visiting Ron. The phone didn't work well in the magically saturated environment, but Hermione managed to play the video, and Malfoy responded with more than the requisite enthusiasm as he watched the clip – Hermione filming, Ron off to one side, his voice clear as he'd praised Hugo, who'd gone far too fast for Hermione's comfort. Malfoy had obviously slid into dad mode, because that elusive warmth had settled in his voice as he talked up how impressive Hugo's flying had been, and how he'd make a great Seeker if he had a good eye to match his speed, and the boy preened under the attention.
It was nice.
They went for a walk beside the river after lunch, up toward the mill pond – "I need to walk off these cakes," Malfoy said with a smile, and Hermione agreed, with the children being happy enough with the idea. They strolled along at an easy pace, and Hermione ended up carrying the bag of treats she'd bought for Rose and Hugo to share with their friends and cousins, after Hugo dumped it on her to scamper down the embankment to the water's edge and look for skipping stones. It was cold – they all wore hats, gloves, and scarves, along with their coats, except Malfoy who'd eschewed a hat – and Hermione was glad of a warming charm as well. She'd worn jeans and a cosy jersey, with thermal underwear underneath, but she knew she'd still be chilled without the charm. It was brisk, in the Highlands.
She and Malfoy walked along close together but not touching, because Hermione suspected she'd seen a Daily Prophet reporter lurking in the distance, and Rose and Scorpius walked a few metres ahead. "Shall we go by Zonko's after this?" Malfoy offered hesitantly. "Hugo seems like a Zonko's type."
"Mm. Like Fred and George." Hermione sighed, thinking of Fred. God, he'd been so terribly young. They had young Fred running around now – nothing like his namesake, but a lovely boy. Her mind wandered in the past, until Malfoy jerked it back to the moment.
"I could buy him something," he offered diffidently, and Hermione stopped in her tracks and looked at him, startled.
"Malfoy, are you trying to bribe my son to like you?" she asked, with faux indignation, and he actually blushed a little – his cheeks going as pink as the tip of his nose was from cold.
"Bribe is such a strong word," he prevaricated, even as he grinned ruefully. They began walking again, Hermione's eyes on Hugo, who had a small stack of stones in the crook of his arm as he scrambled along the river's edge, looking like he was about to tumble in at any moment.
"I'm not having you bribe my son, Malfoy. If you want him to like you, go help him carry his skipping stones before he falls in the river and I have to fish him out," she said lightly, gesturing toward the curly-haired boy, and Malfoy gave her a deadpan look, as if to say, really, Granger? She smiled brightly, and he groaned. And then he actually did it; an unexpected move. He picked his way carefully down the embankment, as she hovered at the edge, hiding a smile as he nearly lost his balance at one point and swore softly under his breath.
"What on earth is Mr Malfoy doing?" Rose asked, off to Hermione's right, laughter in her voice. Scorpius was snickering too, at Hermione's left.
"Helping Hugo," Hermione said absently to her daughter without looking at her, eyes glued to Malfoy as he skidded on a patch of mud, wobbled, and then saved himself – just barely. In his wool coat and Oxfords, he wasn't really dressed for muddy, wet grass. Hugo had stopped looking for stones, and was grinning at Malfoy's descent too.
"Hugo doesn't need help," Rose said almost indignantly, and Hermione smiled at her daughter.
"Well...it was this or a trip to Zonko's."
"What?" Rose sounded bemused.
"Never mind, darling. He just – oh, careful!" The last was called to Malfoy, who slid a short distance on the mud but turned it into a nearly graceful looking manoeuvre, before hopping down to steady ground on the pebbles by the river's edge. He turned and glared up at Hermione, who pressed her fingers over her mouth. He was positively glowering, and she was desperately holding in a grin.
"I survived," he called up, and she laughed in open delight. Rose turned a startled look on her at the laugh, and Hermione shot the girl an arched brow before she yelled back to Malfoy:
"Only just!" And then to Rose: "What's that look for?"
"You just don't normally laugh like that," her daughter said, a contemplative expression on her freckled face. "It's nice." Hermione shrugged dismissively, feeling awkward under Rose's scrutiny.
"Malfoy's very amusing," she said flippantly, and Scorpius shot her a wide-eyed stare.
"No he isn't!" he burst out in disagreement, and then blushed. "I mean. Not really," he added more calmly, cheeks pink with embarrassment as he dropped his gaze to study his shoes. "I don't think I've even seen him act like this." He waved a hand vaguely in Malfoy and Hugo's direction.
"Oh," Hermione said thoughtfully, as Hugo and Malfoy exchanged words, Hugo looking a little cautious still as he offloaded flat, smooth stones to Malfoy, who shoved them in his coat pockets helpfully. He pointed to something, and then crouched and picked it up, showing it to Hugo while still squatting there. Whatever it was glinted in the light and Hugo leaned in to peer at it with interest that won out over his clear caution, curly dark head and blond head close together, before Hugo took the thing. "What's he usually like?"
They began strolling along, keeping pace with Hugo and Malfoy, who walked along the water's edge in what looked to be mostly silence, although Hugo kept passing Malfoy stones and other small objects. He was like a magpie, Hermione thought with amusement.
"Quiet," Scorpius said as he kept pace at Hermione's left, both children flanking her. "He takes me flying a lot. And we go to all sorts of interesting places. And when I was at school in Ilkley, he always went to school events and stuff. But since I left for Hogwarts he's just been...kinda quiet."
"Well, this makes for entertaining viewing," Hermione offered with a smile, feeling a little awkward, and sad for Scorpius. From what Malfoy had said to her, he felt like Scorpius was the one who'd withdrawn, and turned quiet, but it seemed like the opposite was just as true. Scorpius huffed a little laugh.
"It does."
She asked him and Rose more details about school as they strolled along, the mill pond just up ahead. "And so how about you and Michel, Rose? I won't tease!" she added quickly as Rose shot her a defensive glare. "You're a little young to be dating, but if you're not being silly and –"
"Mum! Of course we're not doing anything! I'm only thirteen! We've held hands, that's all!" Rose was ruddy-cheeked as she yanked her beanie down more firmly over her curls. Hermione didn't believe her in the slightest.
"Really?" she asked with a schooled kind of indifference. "That's nice. Half of my friends had their first kiss at around your age. I was fifteen. Late bloomer," she said with a grin, and Rose made a gagging sound.
"Gross, mum! Don't talk about you kissing people in front of Scorp! You're so embarrassing!"
"It's fine , Rose," Scorpius said, and then added slightly bitterly, clearly meant for Rose: "You know what my mother's like." Rose made an understanding, sympathetic sound, crossing behind Hermione to walk beside Scorpius, hooking her arm through his. Hermione glanced down at the river. Hugo was trotting ahead of Malfoy happily as he strode along in the boy's wake, white-blond hair shining under the sun, tall and lean, his long wool coat hanging funny at the pockets where the weight of the stones dragged them down.
"Hang on," Rose said then. "You and dad didn't get together until way after that. You were nineteen!"
"Well, you didn't think I'd never kissed anyone before then, did you?
"I hadn't really thought about it. I thought you had your nose buried in books whenever you weren't nearly getting yourself killed."
"Just because your father thinks being academic is a sin, doesn't mean it is," Hermione argued, knowing that Ron had to have been the originator of the buried in books comment. "I'll have you know that in fifth year, I dated Viktor Krum."
"What? Krum? But you send him Christmas cards every year. I thought he was dad's friend, because of him playing Quidditch.." Rose looked utterly bewildered, her preconceptions shattered, and Hermione chuckled.
"Well, he and your dad are friendly, through Quidditch connections, but no. We dated briefly, during the Triwizard Tournament. Nothing serious. Afterwards, we kept in touch." Hermione smiled, remembering the few snogging sessions they'd had. She'd thought he was so handsome and sweet, if not very bright. And he still was handsome now, when she saw photos of him and his wife in the papers. "I suppose it was a little like a Muggle summer fling."
"Gross."
"I think it's sweet," Scorpius said quietly, and Hermione's eyes slid over to him. There was a lot of his mother in him really – subtly, in the shape of his eyes, and the overall set of his facial features, but his colouring was his father's, and the expressive nature of his mouth. Her mind ticked over as she wondered, and then asked very casually:
"Are you interested in anyone, Scorpius?"
"Mum!"
Scorpius looked uncomfortable, but he didn't say no. He looked away though, cheeks flaming, and Hermione immediately apologised. "Sorry, Scorpius. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, you shouldn't have!" Rose said, annoyed with her mother, and Hermione winced.
"Sorry. I was only thinking because Hogwarts is so small, there can't be that many gay or bi students there. I remember when I was at school, there were no students who were out," she said lightly, as she strolled along, half an eye on how Scorpius was reacting – interest on his face – and half an eye on Malfoy and Hugo. "But Justin Finch-Fletchley got married to one of the Moutohora Macaws players a few years ago – I went to their wedding. It was lovely. And Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet have been together since Katie graduated, after the war. There are a few other students from my generation who are gay or bi – I saw in the paper last year that Cormac McLaggen was dating a French wizard – but there really aren't that many. It must be a little isolating."
She tried to keep it conversational in tone, chattering on as they walked further up toward the mill pond, and the embankment beside the river turned into a gentle, grassy slope down to the pebbled water's edge, and the river and the path drew closer. Hermione saw Malfoy glance over toward them, clearly able to overhear the conversation. Now his embarrassment had passed, Scorpius was listening closely, and when Hermione fell silent, he spoke up. "There are a couple of people at school who I know aren't exactly straight," he said slowly; cautiously, as if not sure how Hermione would react, which made sense given no one in Scorpius's family except Malfoy was supportive. "But no one really talks about it. The wizarding world isn't as accepting as the Muggle world."
"Well, maybe we need to get you out into the Muggle world more then," Hermione said briskly. "Some nice days out during the holidays, maybe."
"Oh! Mum, we should take Scorp to Disneyland!" Rose said delightedly. "You said we could go to Disneyland Paris during the holidays next year. Why don't we take Scorpius?"
"Disneyland?" Hugo yelled, straightening, a look of excitement on his face as he came bounding up the slope, leaving Malfoy to follow behind. "Yes! Mum, I want to go to Disneyland in the Christmas holidays! Please? Can we? And can Lorcan and Lysander come? Pleeease?"
"Oh god, Hugo, I don't know, darling. The Christmas holidays might be a bit busy for everyone. Maybe? We'll have to wait and see how things play out. If not Christmas, the Easter ones though." She made an apologetic face at Malfoy as he approached. "Sorry, Malfoy. I may have roped you into taking a herd of children to Disneyland with me."
"What's Disneyland?" he asked, looking as puzzled as Scorpius did, and Rose and Hugo both started explaining at the same time, in a chaotic rush. Eventually Rose took over the explanation, and the Malfoys were both well versed on the generalities of Disneyland by the time they got to the mill pond. It had several park benches situated around the edge of it, by the cobbled path, and Hermione sat on one with a sigh. Rose said she and Scorpius were going to keep wandering, and do some window shopping. They agreed to meet back at the pond in an hour, and Malfoy tossed Scorpius a galleon with a neat flick of his thumb. And then they strolled off, chattering quietly to each other, leaving Hugo, Hermione, and Malfoy alone together.
"Now if we pushed you in the mill pond it'd be like a proper witch drowning," she said to Malfoy with a smile as he stood beside her and began to empty his coat pockets into a pile on the end of the bench. "You'd sink right to the bottom, weighed down by all those stones."
Hugo took a handful of stones to the pond edge a couple of metres away, and tried skipping them as Hermione watched. Two sank, but one skipped twice.
"Poor taste, Granger," Malfoy said with a smirk. "One of my ancestors was drowned as a witch, you know. They caught her while she was sleeping, and snapped her wand. Tortured her, before the end too. Aunt –" He caught himself before he said her name, probably seeing Hermione's flinch. He paused and rephrased slightly, looking rather as though he regretted bringing it up at all. "My aunt used to tell me the tale as a scary bedtime story. She probably hoped to give me nightmares."
"Your aunt tortured my mum, didn't she?" Hugo asked, back at the bench for more skipping stones, and Hermione's stomach lurched horribly, her heart suddenly thundering and a sweat breaking out. She saw Malfoy's face go ashen. Hugo frowned, brows drawing together and his expression dark as he finished. "While you just stood there and watched. Because you were a Death Eater."
"Hugo! Who said that to you? Your father?"
"No!" He glared at his mother defensively. "I was talking about it with some kids at school the other day, after Lysander read Rita Skeeter's 'Fact or Fiction: Wartime Secrets Revealed ', and it said that when –" he broke off then and blushed a little, scuffing his feet on the ground as though he'd just realised he was talking to his mum about her being tortured. His voice went small, and uncertain, and he looked at her as if for reassurance. "That when you were captured in the Malfoy Manor, they tortured you and he watched." Hugo shot a sideways glance toward Malfoy, who took two steps back, still ashen, his expression set and bleak. Hermione pressed her lips together; now all Hugo's blowing hot and cold with Malfoy, first eager and then uncertain, made a lot more sense.
"Oh Hugo, darling, come here." She opened her arms to him, and he perched on the bench beside her, leaning into her like a much smaller child as she hugged him tightly, his face pressed to her chest, and his arms squeezing around her middle. She rubbed his back as he clearly held back tears he hadn't expected.
Hermione was horrified. She remembered when that damned book had been released, in 2007. She'd let it slide without pushing for retractions, sick of dealing with Rita's nonsense. No one Hermione cared about paid any attention to Rita's books, and she'd thought trying to shut the witch up would just bring more attention to the passages that involved Hermione. At the time Rose had been a toddler, and she'd been busy, and stressed, and wrapped up in the day-to-day, and hadn't thought about the possibility of her children and their friends one day reading the book. Shit.
The book had contained only two salacious passages about Hermione, but they'd been bad. One had accused her of 'seducing Harry Potter while searching for the Horcruxes, during Ronald Weasley's abandonment' and implied that she'd borne him a secret child who'd been adopted out and raised in Italy. The other had talked in great, over-embellished detail about how she'd been tortured at the Manor as Malfoy looked on, and had tried to make out that she'd begged him to save her while he'd cheered his aunt on and threatened her with sexual violence. God, she hadn't thought about those vile lies in over a decade, but now it was all razor sharp in her mind, and terribly humiliating.
Hugo was only eleven, for Merlin's sake. He shouldn't be reading that horrible stuff. She stroked his curly head, staring silently at Malfoy, who was staring off to one side and down, his eyes narrowed and his face still drained of colour, expression miserable. He looked like he wanted to sink into the earth itself and disappear, hands in his freshly emptied pockets and shoulders hunched. Neither of them had expected to be confronted by old horrors today, out of the blue like this. He wouldn't meet her eyes, and annoyance pricked at her.
"Rita Skeeter's full of shit, you know," she said matter-of-factly, and Hugo pulled back and stared at her wide-eyed, shocked by her swearing in front of him. She never usually did that – unless she was beyond furious. She smiled reassuringly. "None of what she says in any of her books is even halfway true. She's very good at taking the truth and turning it into something else entirely. And she hates me in particular, because I, well – I interfered with an article of hers."
"So you weren't tortured?" Hugo asked in a small voice, his eyes searching Hermione's face. She hissed quietly, and Malfoy stiffened further, and she thought she heard him mumble "Salazar's sake" shakily under his breath. If only she could say no, it had all been a lie.
"Well, no. Uncle Harry, your dad, and I did get captured, and taken to the Malfoy Manor," Hermione had to admit. "But it wasn't anything like Rita wrote, Hugo. B-Bellatrix –" it was hard to get the damned witch's name out, and Malfoy shot her a tight-lipped, miserable look "– used the Cruciatus on me, and, um, cut my arm," she said, trying to keep it as simple and non-graphic as possible. "Malfoy was there, but he was only seventeen, Hugo, and there were other adult witches and wizards there. There was nothing he could do to stop Bellatrix."
Hugo thought about that for a moment. And then he turned to Malfoy, who looked a little like a kicked dog at this point. "Did you want my mum to be hurt?" he asked plainly. Malfoy shook his head.
"No. Merlin, no. I – I wish that I'd been more like your mum, back then," Malfoy said, voice hoarse, as his gaze flicked from Hugo to Hermione, and back to Hugo. "Brave. Courageous enough to stand up to evil. I was a coward, who stood by and let awful things happen. But I regret it terribly. I have, for many years."
Hugo eyed Malfoy suspiciously. "Oh," he said. He frowned, and then nodded. "Okay. Good. You should," he added, rather bluntly, and Hermione cringed, although Malfoy just accepted the mild rebuke with a nod, as if he knew it was his due.
"Is there anything else, Hugo?" Hermione asked, keen to get off the topic.
"You didn't really have a baby with Uncle Harry, did you?" Hugo asked nervously, with the tone of a child who thought he knew the answer, but wasn't quite sure. Malfoy's brows nearly shot off his forehead with surprise, and Hermione groaned inwardly.
"Ew! Merlin, no, Hugo!" she said emphatically. "And that's exactly why Rita Skeeter can't be bloody trusted!" She sighed. "Come on. Let's go to Zonko's quickly, before Rose and Scorpius get back. Maybe Malfoy'll buy you something if you're lucky," Hermione said, and shot Malfoy a rueful grin over Hugo's head. When all else failed, there was always bribery. His return smile was a pallid, weak thing, but appreciative.
"I'm sure I have a few spare sickles," he said, and Hugo was still young enough to be cheered up and distracted by the notion of spending some money at the joke shop. When Malfoy dug the coins out of his wallet Hugo took them with a mumbled thanks and scooted out ahead of them, leaving them to follow behind. They left a small gap between them, still aware of the press, and the mood between them was heavy. Awkward. The past still had the ability to make things difficult between them. "Granger, I –" he began apologetically.
"We'll talk about it later," she cut in sharply before he could say anything, feeling a little like she might cry if he did. "It's okay, Malfoy," she added, with a forced smile, but he didn't look entirely convinced.