56.

By Wednesday morning, it was official. Hermione and Malfoy were both divorced. It made little difference to how their days played out; until they'd both told their children, they were still managing the bare minimum of discretion that they'd tried for since Hermione's release from St Mungo's. They'd both agreed to tell the children on Saturday, and Hermione had arranged it with Ron. Malfoy would be talking Scorpius out of school for lunch – hopefully with a calm Astoria – and breaking the news. He expected Scorpius would be entirely unsurprised and unbothered; his parents had essentially been divorced in all but name for most of his life.

Hermione and Ron planned to speak to the children at The Three Broomsticks – they'd spoken on the phone about what to tell them. She felt they'd take the news harder than Scorpius. Well, Hugo would at least – Rose was expecting it, although not this soon. And they'd had a tumultuous term. Between the issues with Rose, Scorpius, and James, the articles in the press about their parents' indiscretions, and Hermione's hospitalisation, they'd had to deal with a few upsets. Guilt nagged at Hermione as Saturday drew nearer. The gossip in the press had been Hermione and Ron's fault, and while the children didn't seem to have been teased for it, they'd been aware, and it had to have been unsettling for them.

It was just bad parenting, plain and simple, and Hermione felt terrible. But it was the situation she and Ron had landed them all in, with the help of Malfoy, Chastity, and Ron's other women before her, and so they just had to navigate it as best they could. And hopefully avoid scarring the children emotionally more than they already might have.

Oh well, Hermione found herself thinking as she walked up the path to the covered bridge at Hogwarts, booted feet crunching on the fresh snowfall, remembering what she'd been doing from the ages of twelve through to eighteen. At least they don't have a Dark Lord to deal with. It could be much worse than divorce. And if she and Ron managed to be friendly co-parents from this point on, the children would hopefully adjust well. She smiled and waved at the man in question, who was early for once, rugged up in winter gear with his red hair wisping out from under his beanie, and his beard glinting in the winter sun.

"Hi 'Mione," he said cheerfully, and gave her a hug that made it clear he'd used a warming charm. He was radiating heat as though he were a furnace, warming right through her black wool coat. She herself was in jeans and a jersey, with thermal underwear on underneath, and a hat, gloves, and scarf. She was cosy enough with all of that kit on that she hadn't bothered with a warming charm; it wasn't windy today, and the sun was out. She stepped back from Ron with a smile, adjusting her handbag over her shoulder.

"Hi. You're early."

"Chastity made sure I was –" he broke off, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's fine, Ron. I won't explode if you mention her. Go on."

"She made sure I was here early." He gave Hermione a hopeful look. "She thinks family is important."

"Does she now," Hermione said drily, raising a brow.

"Oh, don't be like that, 'Mione. You know what I mean. She never meant to – she's not some gold-digger. Mum's taken against her, you know. Keeps calling her a slut. It's not her fault." Ron looked miserable, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched as he eyed her morosely. "I told her we were nearly divorced when we first met –"

Hermione sighed. Of course he had. It would've been so easy just to be honest and say they were on a trial separation, but then, Hermione supposed, Chastity might not have taken up with him. "Oh Ron…"

"– and then things were so nice with her, and – well, all I mean is, she never meant to be a homewrecker." He gave Hermione a beseeching look, as though he genuinely wanted her approval of Chastity. Bizarre. Why did he care what she thought? She didn't care what he thought of Malfoy. She looked across the bridge, watching students scurry about in the distance, not seeing any sign of Rose and Hugo yet.

"I think we're all homewreckers, honestly," she said, meaning it. They'd all behaved badly, to one extent or another. None of them were saints in the situation. "But Chastity's right. Family is important. Which is why I was pleased you were here on time for once." The jab came out without her meaning it to. She was just so used to Ron being late, or unprepared, or cancelling last minute. Him being here early was entirely unexpected. She'd half thought she'd be breaking the news to Hugo and Rose alone, just as she'd had to regarding their break.

"The kids are everything to me, 'Mione," Ron insisted, looking oddly like himself at seventeen despite the beard and the lines around his eyes, as he stood there squinting at her, hands in his pockets and an earnest expression on his face. How many times had they chatted as children or teenagers on this very bridge? How often had Ron been begging for forgiveness? Too many times, Hermione thought. They never should've gotten married in the first place. "You know that," he insisted. "I just want to be a good dad. Which is why Chastity made sure I turned up early today. Because it's important. We both should be here to tell the kids, together. So they can see we're still a united force."

He sounded very earnest, his eyes very bright and his expression hopeful, and he was entirely missing the point, Hermione thought. Being a good father meant remembering to turn up on time of his own accord, without requiring a woman to remind him, and chivvy him into it. She'd done that all their lives – nagged, and prodded, and written notes, and done all the organisation for him. If he still needed someone to do that for him, then he hadn't learned anything. Well, she thought wryly. It wasn't her problem anymore. If Chastity wanted to run around after Ron, then good luck to her. Perhaps she'd be more suited to it than Hermione, who'd always been too impatient and distracted.

Hermione sighed. "You are a good dad," she told Ron, as she spotted the children off in the distance and waved at them. Hugo waved back and she smiled, before turning her gaze back to Ron. "You're just…inconsistent, sometimes."

"Yeah." Ron scuffed his booted toes on the ground. "I'll try to do better now, 'Mione." He looked a little grim for a moment. "With another kid on the way, I'll have to be more bloody organised."

"Oh! Yes, I meant to say – I forgot on the phone. Don't mention that yet. Wait until Chastity's about four months," she said swiftly, as the children trotted over the bridge. "It gives them some time to adjust."

"Oh. Right." Ron nodded, as Hugo waved again and broke into a run. "She didn't want me telling anyone until she's three months along, anyway. She was a little upset that I told you, and Harry and Ginny."

Hermione put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile as she laughed silently to herself. Of course. Ron was already putting his foot in it with his new partner. She actually felt sorry for Chastity. "Well, make sure you don't tell anyone else, then. I told Malfoy –" Ron grimaced "– but I'll tell him not to tell anyone else," she said, though she highly doubted it would even occur to Malfoy to care enough to think of doing that. "Make sure Harry and Ginny don't let slip either. And take Chastity home some Madam Puddifoot's cakes and sweets," she added quickly – a pregnant witch would no doubt appreciate that – just as Hugo tore up to them and skidded to a halt.

"Mum! Dad!"

Ron's eyes went wide with understanding, and he grinned and mouthed a 'thanks' at Hermione before he waved at Rose, who was approaching at a more sedate pace.

"Hi Hugo, darling," Hermione said, bending to hug him and squeezing him tightly. She didn't have to bend as far as she used to even as short a time ago as the beginning of term. He was sprouting like a weed, and immediately burst into excited talk about school, and friends, and the upcoming holidays, and Disneyland, tumbling over his words and chopping and changing, as though he couldn't decide what to talk about first, and in detail. It was an onslaught that didn't cease even as he turned to his father and hugged him too, switching seamlessly into chatter about his father and Harry taking him to see the latest Star Wars movie.

"Hi Mum." Rose gave Hermione a hug, but her look was knowing as she stepped back from Hermione. "What about Christmas?" she asked quietly, after shooting Hugo a glance – he and Ron were occupied though, and definitely not listening in.

"Hush. Christmas is still happening," Hermione told her daughter equally quietly, frowning at her. Rose looked uncertain, and younger than her years, and Hermione felt another twinge of guilt, her stress levels rising. Rose might have been forewarned, and have insisted she was fine with it, but now the moment was here – unexpectedly early – she seemed understandably sad.

"Come on," Hermione said, eager to get it over and done with. They'd walk to Hogwarts' bounds, and then disapparate to Hogsmeade, she decided. The quicker they could tell the children the better, for everyone except the blissfully ignorant Hugo. It would be like ripping off a plaster, Hermione told herself. Best to do it fast. "Let's go. I'm hungry," she said, even though food was the last thing she felt like, honestly.

Rose gave her a doubtful look, as Ron and Hugo actually listened to Hermione the first time for once and got moving, albeit still talking about Kylo Ren. Hermione sighed, rubbing at her temples, bands of tension squeezing around her head. Rose's gaze turned sympathetic as the two of them fell in behind Ron and Hugo. "It'll be fine, Mum," Rose said, and patted Hermione's arm, but that just made her feel worse. It was her job to be reassuring her daughter, not the other way around. She felt suddenly like the biggest failure in the world. She forced a smile that she didn't feel.

"Thanks, darling." And then she took a deep breath, a smile still plastered on her face. "How has school been this week? How's Michel?"

"Muuum!" That distracted Rose nicely, and Hermione too, as they walked along. And then eventually Hugo got tired of talking Star Wars and he and Ron began talking about the Quidditch season, which poached Rose from her conversation with Hermione. She strolled along a few paces behind the other three, her hands in her pockets, listening. It was lovely and sad at the same time. It wasn't like Ron, Rose, and Hugo would stop having moments like this, it was just that Hermione wouldn't get to see them anymore. And that was sad. She sighed, melancholic as they made their way toward Hogwarts' outer gates.

Hugo was slightly tearful when they broke the news over pumpkin juice and trifle, their Sunday roast lunches having been eaten while the children listened to Hermione and Ron share memories of The Three Broomsticks. It had been a lovely lunch in the end. Madam Rosmerta had given Hermione a suspicious look when they'd come in but hadn't mentioned Malfoy, thank Merlin. And then once they'd sat down, Ron had shared a story about The Three Broomsticks, which had reminded Hermione of a different one, and before they knew it lunch had passed in laughter and nostalgia as the children listened. Rose had seemed a little puzzled – perhaps by her parents' friendliness – but both of the children were entertained.

When dessert arrived however, Ron cleared his throat and took charge, at Hermione's nod of approval. "Rose, Hugo – your mother and I have something to tell you." Hugo looked at Ron expectantly, and Rose glanced at her mother with a grimace. "Your mum and I are getting a divorce," Ron said bluntly, no sugar-coating or beating around the bush, and Hermione bit her lip. For a split second she regretted everything and wanted to take it all back, as Rose's mouth downturned and Hugo's chin wobbled, his eyes clouding with tears.

"But why?" Hugo asked, filled with misery and confusion, and Hermione's heart broke. She didn't know what to say as Hugo shot a half angry, tear-filled look at her. "Can't you…make it work?"

"I know it might sound weird, Hugo, but your mum and I just work better as friends than we do a married couple," Ron said, as Hermione was still busy searching for words and coming up empty. She gave him a grateful look. When Ron actually put his heart into doing something, he wasn't half bad at it. And he wasn't wrong, either. Hermione could see the way to a future, eventually, where they were good friends again, supportive and enjoying each other's company as co-parents, and the mutual friends of Harry and Ginny. Their lives were too entwined through other people for them to just cut each other off without massive awkwardness. But Hermione rather thought they might not need to. Eventually. Things were still a little raw and awkward right now.

"What, so you're going to stay friends?" Hugo sounded shockingly sarcastic for an eleven year old.

"Yes," Hermione said decidedly, smiling at Ron, and then Hugo, more cheerfully than she felt. "Of course we'll stay friends. Better than ever. And we'll have Christmas at the Burrow like always, and you two will have a bedroom at each of our houses, and when you aren't at school you can split the holidays between us, and the Burrow, and Granddad Richard, however you want." With floo, disapparition, and portkey, travel was immediate and easy – which gave them a massive advantage over Muggle parents. Hugo sniffed hard and rubbed his nose with his sleeve. Hermione automatically passed him a napkin across the table. "Blow."

He did, and then looked at her, his tears blinked back for now. "What about birthdays?"

"Well, I guess maybe we could have them at the Burrow if you like. I know Nan would love that, and we usually go there for lunch on your birthdays anyway," Hermione said, and Hugo looked thoughtful.

"Could I have two birthday parties?" he hazarded. "One with you and one with Dad?"

Hermione repressed a smile. "I mean, I don't see why not," she allowed and was rewarded by a slow grin, as Hugo thought that over. He had about a dozen more questions like that, which thankfully were all easy for her and Ron to field, and by the end of it their youngest was no longer on the verge of tears. Instead there was a speculative look on his face, and Hermione suspected he was busily thinking of ways he could leverage his parents' divorce to his advantage. Well, that was better than him being miserable. She'd take it as a win.

"What about the house?" Rose asked. She had been silent up until now – she'd already known this was coming eventually, and Hugo had covered most of the possible questions anyway, while Rose had seemed to be digesting the answers her parents gave. Hermione and Ron shared a look.

"We're going to be selling the house," Hermione said, and both children erupted in protests.

"What?"

"No!"

"We probably would've looked at moving anyway," Hermione cut in over their exclamations, being honest, mostly. "With you kids no longer at Wandsworth school, and away at Hogwarts most of the year, there's no need for us to hang onto the house. We could buy two lovely detached three bedroom houses with gardens for the price of the Wandsworth house. We could even buy in a village with more of a wizarding population."

"I was wondering about buying in Hogsmeade," Ron said unexpectedly. "There are some nice pieces of land available for sale outside the village, and I like the idea of building." He looked at the children. "You two could design your own rooms." That thrilled Hugo, and even caught Rose's interest, and derailed the two, who devolved into more and more ridiculous ideas about secret rooms, underground tunnels, and hammocks for some odd reason. Ron smiled at Hermione as the two children argued animatedly with each other. He leaned in close, his mouth near her ear as he patted her knee under the table. "It'll be fine, 'Mione. You'll see."

She found she actually believed him.