61.

It was 9 am and the children had opened their presents and were eating a late breakfast in their pyjamas now, sitting at the breakfast bar still ooh-ing and aah-ing over what they'd gotten. Hermione had owled their new broomsticks to Ron, so he could give them to the children at the Burrow. Instead, Rose had gotten her make-up, and Hugo his Nintendo Switch games, along with a stocking stuffed with plastic tat and little magical goodies each. They were chattering happily as they shovelled in their cereal, Rose texting her cousins to see what they'd bagged so far.

Hermione told them she was going to go upstairs and have a shower and get dressed to go out – swinging by her father's before they went to the Burrow – and then hurried upstairs to the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, with her hair dried and tamed with Sleekeazy's but still loose, Hermione made sure her bedroom door was locked, and then dropped the towel began her foray into photographic seduction, wearing nothing but Malfoy's tanzanite necklace. She didn't know that she was ever going to do this again, and it was half of his Christmas present, so she decided to go all out. She balanced her phone on a book on the bedside table, front camera on, lay down over the bed, trialling different positions at warp speed.

She felt like an idiot. But as she spent the next two minutes figuring out what poses might work, arousal began to kindle in her core. Her stomach squirmed deliciously at the thought of Malfoy opening her messages and being aroused by her. Wanting her, desperately, because of how she made herself look for him. Her cheeks flushed with heat, and when she discovered her first definite pose – sitting facing the camera, knees slightly bent and legs spread, hands braced on the bed behind her – she saw, in the camera, that her vulva was glistening wet. Oh God. Hermione swallowed hard, and tapped the five second timer icon, and then slid back into position, trying to give a Mona Lisa smile.

When she looked at it afterwards she could've torn herself to shreds – a crease in her stomach there, her breasts sitting too low, and her thighs faintly dimpled with a hint of cellulite. She firmly told herself that he thought she was sexy, and no one was perfect, and she liked the vaguely mysterious hint of a smile, and set the phone down to take the other two. One on her spread knees, having wrapped a tie loosely around her wrists to give the impression they were bound together in front of her, so that they sandwiched her breasts and pushed them forward, her eyes demurely downcast.

And then instead of a photo, a ten second video of her sitting back against her stack of pillows with her knees bent and planted apart, her cheeks flushed and her vulva wet, one hand holding the phone out so that it caught her dip two fingers as deep as possible in her visibly slick cunt. And then she drew them out, wet with her juices, circled her clit lazily, trailed her fingertips up her stomach and over one breast – leaving a shiny trail – before sucking on her fingers, ending the video just as they popped out of her mouth. Her eyes held the camera the whole time. She watched it while sitting naked on the edge of the bed, and felt mortified, terrified, ridiculously aroused, and hoped desperately that he'd react the way she wanted.

The children could be up at any moment though, so she quickly dressed in her wide-legged black trousers, her marbled mint and white silk blouse, and one of Mrs Weasley's knitted jerseys – a cosy sky blue one, with white snowflakes around the yoke. And then, hair pinned back at the sides and tamed into fairly well behaving waves, with a bit of tinted lip balm and some mascara on – which she belatedly realised she should have put on for the photos – she sat down at the end of her bed and texted Malfoy. She'd already sent him a 'Merry Christmas' and an 'I love you' message, when she'd woken, so he wouldn't be expecting this.

I'd like to give you one of your Christmas presents now, Malfoy.

[Now? You mean floo over?]

No, I can give it to you over the phone.

[Oh really? Interesting... Yes please, then.]

You have to be alone though.

A moment passed. Then: [Done. Don't keep me in suspense, Granger.]

She bit her lip and sent them through, triple checking she was sending them to Malfoy. And there was a very long pause in which she clutched her phone tightly in sweaty hands and catastrophised. And then in quick succession, a barrage of texts arrived, one after the other, and she relaxed a little. Covered her mouth with one hand, and grinned.

[Holy fucking shit, Granger]

[Youre amazing]

[So fucking sexy]

[Salazars sake]

[Amazing]

[Merlin, I'm going to be thinking about this all day.]

She gnawed on her lip. Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?

[Good. Very good. It'll give me strength to get through Christmas lunch with my parents without drowning myself in the soup.]

[I'm going to be popping inconvenient erections all day. And slipping off to the toilet just to look at you.]

[You really are incredibly sexy, you know.]

She automatically went to type out a denial, and then stopped herself. Thank you, Malfoy. You're rather sexy too.

[I know. It's a burden.]

She laughed. Unfortunately, I have to get the children ready to go to my dad's now, before we go to the Burrow. Wish me luck with Ron?

[Good luck, Granger. I'm sure it'll be fine though. I'll see you at six?]

Six. I can't wait. I hope your day goes well.

[Me too. And ditto.]

She deleted the two photos and the video from her phone, and unlocked her door, sliding her wand up her sleeve, straightening her shoulders, and taking a deep breath. She let it out slowly, phone in hand as she smoothed her face and headed for the stairs.

"Have you seen my brown ankle boots, Rose?" she called down the stairs as she approached them, looking down instead of up at the wall Ciaran had slammed her into. She shivered. Every time she thought of him, she felt simultaneously sad and scared. "I can't find them anywhere in my wardrobe." There. That should cover why she took a while longer than usual to get ready.

"No! Why would I know?" Rose called up, sounding slightly offended, as though Hermione had accused her of stealing them. Hermione bit her tongue, deliberately not snipping back at the girl to mind her tone. It was Christmas, and not worth creating tension. And they were probably still tired from yesterday. She padded down the stairs and pretended to 'find' her boots by the hall table next to the stairs. And then, with her boots slid on and zipped, she made her way into the kitchen and began to clear up the dishes, ordering the two children to get ready to go. They thundered upstairs – "Bags I the bathroom," Rose shouting over her shoulder as she overtook her brother.

"I don't care, dummy. I don't want a shower," Hugo shot back, his bedroom door slamming, followed by the bathroom door.

Hermione sighed.

They apparated to her dad's with gifts for him – a copy of Delta-v by Daniel Suarez, because her father loved interesting science fiction novels, a luxury bathrobe from Bown of London, and a big box of Quality Street. He had cards with money for the children, which they always loved. They went on spending sprees after Christmas, and liked being able to buy whatever they wanted. And for Hermione, he had a gift voucher – and her mother's engagement ring, which he'd kept alongside her wedding ring in a jewellery box on his bedside table since her death.

"Oh, Dad." The engagement ring was an emerald, her mother's birthstone, flanked by two tiny diamonds, and at her father's encouragement she tried it on her right ring finger, switching the charmed protective ring to her middle finger. It fit well, and Hermione bit her lip as she stared at it on her finger, memories of her mother sharp in her mind. Her hands. Wiping Hermione's nose, kneading homemade play dough, turning the pages of a picture book, painting her nails, cradling Hermione's face before dropping a kiss on her forehead. Tears welled in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I am. Better that you enjoy wearing it, than it just keeps sitting on my bedside table. Besides, I still have her wedding ring." He sighed, expression wistful. "I think it's time I began to let her go, just a little bit."

Hermione hugged him tightly. "I love you, Dad."

"Love you too," he said, and squeezed her back. And then he let her go and blew his nose loudly into a handkerchief, before putting on a smile. "It looks lovely on you. And maybe one day, you'll give it to Rose."

"Give me what?" Rose asked, and Hermione smiled and showed her, as her father told them the story of how he'd asked Hermione's mother to marry him.

At midday her father left to go to Karen's, and they apparated home to drop off their presents and collect the presents for the rest of the family, before flooing to the Burrow. Hermione followed after the children, ruffling a dusting of soot out of her hair – her clothes appearing to have gone unscathed. She brushed her jersey off briskly, just in case, and then was immediately enfolded in one of Molly's warm hugs.

"Hermione, dear! Merry Christmas! It's lovely that you came. It just wouldn't be the same without you!" Molly was a whirlwind of love and the waft of nutmeg, her arms tight as she made Hermione feel welcome instead of awkward. "How's your father?"

"Merry Christmas, Molly." Hermione kissed her ex-mother-in-law's cheek, smiling at her. "He's fine, thank you. He's going to his new girlfriend's place for Christmas lunch."

"Oh, how nice. You've got a little –" Molly swept up the hem of her apron, and swiped at Hermione's cheek "– bit of soot. There we go." She looked at Hermione's bagful of presents. "Presents! How exciting. Pop those under the tree, dear. Lunch will be ready in about an hour. Everyone's already here except Charlie. He's running late, as always."

Hermione could already tell that everyone was here from the bustle and noise. The table was crowded around by chattering Weasleys, and she could hear more noise and laughter coming from the sitting room. A charmed paper plane whizzed through the air near her head as she navigated past everyone, progressing slowly as she exchanged hugs and greetings with the other adults, and any of the younger ones who offered her hugs – not many, because most of them were occupied.

The house was a riot of merriment and colour – the gramophone playing a popular Christmas tune loudly, the tree laden with sparkling, charmed baubles, and the children playing with any number of magical toys and gag gifts. It seemed as though George had brought half of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stock with him, from the state of the place. Hermione laid her assortment of presents under the tree. The family rule was that they only bought little items for the children, with a spending limit of a galleon, presents for Molly and Arthur, and in recent years, a Secret Santa amongst the other adults – also with a spending limit.

This year Hermione had gotten Angelina, and had bought her a set of puffskein fur socks, gloves, and hat. Molly and Arthur's presents were a bottle of Creme de Cacao for Molly, who loved sampling Muggle liqueurs, and a book of the top fifty strangest patents for Arthur, who was still fascinated and bewildered by all things Muggle, particularly odd inventions. Hermione straightened from placing all the little gifts in front of the tree, and then sought out Harry and Ginny, who had migrated outside, according to Percy. Fleur pressed a mug of hot mulled cider on her as she slipped back through the kitchen and outside, casting a warming charm so she didn't freeze.

Oh dear. Ron was out there too. Hermione bit her lip and headed over anyway, waving brightly at them. The cider helped keep her fingers extra toasty as she stomped through a thin layer of firmly packed snow over to the three of them. "Merry Christmas, Hermione!" Ginny was pink-cheeked and beaming, in a puffy jacket, and Hermione suspected she'd already had several ciders. It was delicious, admittedly. She returned Ginny's greeting and hugged her, and then Harry, who kissed her firmly on the cheek as well, and then hesitated awkwardly in front of Ron.

"Oh come on. We shared a bed for over twenty years. You can give me a bloody hug, surely," Ron said, handsome in a smart coat and a warm woollen hat, and possibly having had one too many ciders as well, and Hermione scowled at him and hugged him.

"You're a prat, Ronald," she said, but he did give a lovely hug – warm and enthusiastic, and nearly spilling her cider. He kissed her cheek and his beard was scratchy, and she made a face and scrubbed where he'd kissed. "Ugh, I don't know how Chastity puts up with that hedgehog on your face," she said, determined to be friendly and mature, and not make things awkward. Ron laughed.

"She likes it. Says it makes me look dashing." He stroked his chin, pulling a pose.

"I think she just likes how it covers half your face," Harry said, and Ron deflated.

"Oi!" he protested, and Harry smirked, and the conversation devolved into teasing and roughhousing that took up the better part of ten minutes. It felt rather like old times, Hermione and Ginny standing and rolling their eyes at the pair of idiots, and engaging in their own quiet talk. Ginny had decided to retire from Quidditch after the next season, and look at coaching. And Hermione talked about how she was hoping to get the Head of Department position when Higgins retired at the end of the coming year. Eventually, Ginny noticed Hermione's new ring, sparkling on her finger in the pale winter light, and she had to quickly explain it was her mother's ring.

"– not a gift from Malfoy," she said firmly, and Ginny laughed.

"I didn't think it was, Hermione," she said mischievously. "If it had been, I'm sure it would've been on the other hand."

"Ginny!" She didn't particularly want to talk about her and Malfoy in front of Ron, even if he was busy talking utter shit with Harry, and probably not listening to a word the two witches were saying. She glared at Ginny. "Speaking of Malfoys, how are things going with the, erm, Albus and Scorpius situation?"

"Oh Merlin – don't mention that! Harry –" Ginny began, but Harry was already looking over at the pair of them, freezing halfway through forming a snowball.

"Are you talking about Albus, and Malfoy's son?"

"Good God, Harry, you're as bad as Malfoy," Hermione said automatically. "His name is Scorpius, and he's a very sweet boy."

"He had my son half naked!"

"It sounds like they had each other half naked," Hermione said tartly, leaping to Scorpius's defence, a protective urge flooding through her at Harry's tone. "And honestly, what do you expect? Obviously we know they're far too young for that kind of carry-on, but they don't think so, and they're teenage boys snogging in private. Self-control and being sensible are not things teenage boys are known for."

"It's a mess," Ginny said frankly, with a heavy sigh. "We've told Albus he's not allowed to be alone with Scorpius anymore, but I don't know how to enforce that when they're both off at Hogwarts."

"Malfoy's trying bribery," Hermione offered. "He's told Scorpius that if they behave at school, he'll try to arrange for them to see each other in the holidays." She smiled at Ginny and Harry awkwardly. "I suggested perhaps they could spend time together here at the Burrow with the other children. If Molly and Arthur don't mind of course."

"Spend time here. At the Burrow." Harry repeated somewhat blankly, and Ginny made a little sigh and rubbed her hand over her forehead, exasperation and anxiety speaking louder than words. Oh Merlin, here we go again, Hermione could read printed all over the other witch's face, and winced, feeling guilty for bringing the issue up on Christmas Day. Particularly when it seemed it was a serious sore spot for Harry. She saw the evidence of many arguments in Ginny's expression.

And then Ron laughed. "I bet this isn't the sort of conversation you thought you'd ever have, mate." Hermione shot him a furious glare and shushed him quietly, but he ignored her cheerfully. He'd never listened to her when they were married, she supposed; why would he listen now? "Should I let my son snog Malfoy's kid at my school, or the Burrow?" he said and grinned. "Like I said, at least they can't knock each other up."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped, feeling very hypocritical. She'd said the same thing to Malfoy. Her cheeks flushed, and she hoped it would be mistaken as annoyance, the cider, or cold, as opposed to guilt. "Don't –"

"Well at least my wife isn't fucking Mal–" Harry began to snap, and then stopped, a horrified expression on his face. "I'm sorry!" he said swiftly as everyone stared at him, Hermione aghast. "God, Hermione, Ron, I'm so sorry! I just –"

Ron laughed again, although it was slightly forced. "Ex- wife," he clarified, an edge to his voice.

Hermione felt a little sick. "Jesus, Harry," she said, in disbelief, as he apologised again, looking ill himself and clearly regretting it. She decided not to rub it in.

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny said, and linked her arm through Hermione's, shooting the two men dark looks. "Let's go inside, and leave these two idiots to it." Hermione complied, feeling a little shell-shocked, even as Ron complained after them that he hadn't done anything wrong. Ginny dropped Hermione's arm, their steps falling into sync as they crunched over the snow crust side by side. "I swear, sometimes those two still seem like a couple of stupid teenagers themselves," she said disgustedly.

"About as stupid as Albus and Scorpius," Hermione said, and Ginny threw her head back and laughed.

"At least they're not snogging like them," she said as they reached the house, and Hermione choked on her cider at the thought. Ginny grinned at her as she pulled the door open. "Anyway, I think the idea of having the boys hang out here at the Burrow is a good one. I'll mention it to Mum after lunch. I'm fairly certain she won't mind. She always has a 'the more the merrier' policy, which would drive me insane, frankly."

Ron and Harry came inside about fifteen minutes later, looking rather dishevelled and shamefaced, and Hermione elbowed Ginny as they sat at the long kitchen table, Hermione nursing her second cider, the alcohol making her feel warm and relaxed. "They look like they might have been snogging," she said in Ginny's ear, and the two snickered like children themselves as Ron and Harry brushed snow off their clothes at the kitchen door, and got shooed through by a flustered Molly. And then Hugo and Lily came running up to the two witches, asking on behalf of the children when they were going to open the presents, and the awkwardness from earlier was truly forgotten in the happy chaos that followed.

The rest of the day went smoothly and much like any other Christmas Day – except with a brief chat via text with Malfoy after lunch – and when Hermione kissed the children goodbye at a quarter to five, she gave Ron a quick hug too. They were to be staying at the Burrow, until it was time to go back to Hogwarts. "Merry Christmas, Ron."

"You too, 'Mione," he said, his smile rather fond, and Hermione flooed home feeling happy and light – and desperately eager to see Malfoy.