Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the enchanted underwater windows of the Slytherin dorm, casting a soft greenish glow across the room.

Hermione stirred, the warmth beside her pulling her from sleep before the realization of where she was caught up with her.

Her brow furrowed as her fingers clutched at soft sheets — far too luxurious to be from the Gryffindor tower. The room was colder, darker… quieter.

And the body curled around her — pale, shirtless, and very much male — shifted slightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck with a sleepy groan.

Draco.

She smiled before she even opened her eyes.

They were tangled together under his duvet, limbs and memories from the night before in the astronomy tower woven as tightly as the sheets. She let herself stay there for a moment, basking in the gentle thrum of his breathing and the feel of his fingers absently stroking the curve of her hip beneath the covers.

It was perfect — until—

"Well, this is cozy."

Hermione's eyes flew open. She turned sharply and—

Blaise Zabini.

Sitting casually in Draco's desk chair, sipping what looked to be his morning tea, entirely too amused.

Draco groaned against her skin. "Blaise…"

"Morning, lovebirds," Blaise said with a grin. "Sleep well?"

Hermione's face turned red so fast it could've rivaled a Gryffindor banner.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, trying to discreetly tug the blanket higher over herself.

Blaise shrugged. "I live here. Didn't expect to walk in on a post-coital cuddle, but honestly, I'm proud of you, mate."

Draco dragged a hand over his face. "Get. Out."

Blaise laughed, standing. "Don't worry, I'm leaving. I just wanted to see it with my own eyes. Granger in the serpent's den." He gave them both a wink. "Breakfast in an hour. Try to put pants on by then."

He shut the door behind him, laughing to himself all the way down the hall.

Hermione groaned, burying her face in Draco's shoulder. "I may never show my face again."

Draco chuckled, arms wrapping more tightly around her. "You're welcome to stay here. Forever."

She peeked up at him, mock-glaring. "You're enjoying this."

"Only slightly." His smirk softened as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You look good in my bed, Granger."

Her blush deepened, but this time, she didn't try to hide it.

By the time Draco and Hermione stepped into the Great Hall, breakfast was already well underway. Sunlight streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting golden light over platters of toast, fruit, and sausages. Students murmured and stared — as they always did now — when the former prince of Slytherin strolled confidently to the Gryffindor table.

Draco pretended not to notice.

Hermione, cheeks pink but chin lifted high, led the way to the middle of the table where Harry, Ron, Pansy, and Blaise were already seated — yes, at the Gryffindor table.

"I don't know what kind of spell you two put on the world," Blaise said, leaning back lazily in his seat as Draco sat beside him, "but I just buttered toast next to Potter and the castle didn't collapse."

Harry smirked. "Yet."

Pansy, delicately sipping pumpkin juice, gave Hermione a knowing look. "Ginny said you didn't come back to your dorm last night. Good morning, Granger."

Hermione choked slightly on her tea while Draco tried and failed to hide a smug grin.

Ron, for once, didn't explode. He looked a little uncomfortable — his toast thoroughly buttered and torn in pieces on his plate — but his voice was even when he said, "We were just talking about Bill and Fleur's wedding next weekend."

"Yeah?" Draco asked carefully.

Harry nodded, glancing toward Ron.

Ron sighed, then looked up at them both. "Look… I know I've been a bit of a git."

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

Ron continued. "Okay, a massive git… but I'm trying. And Bill and Fleur wanted a proper celebration, after everything. Family, friends. Peace. So…" He looked directly at Draco and then over to Blaise and Pansy. "You're invited. All of you."

There was a moment of stunned silence at the table.

Blaise blinked. "To the Weasleys' cottage? With the chickens and the garden gnomes?"

Ron gave him a look. "Yes."

Pansy narrowed her eyes playfully. "Will there be dancing?"

"Too much," Harry said with a laugh.

Hermione glanced at Draco, who still hadn't said anything. His expression was unreadable — the same mask he wore for years, only this time, she could see the emotion fighting beneath it.

"Thank you," Draco said finally, voice steady. "We'd be honored."

Ron gave a single nod. "Just don't make me regret it."

Blaise held up his cup. "To unlikely alliances and terrible dancing."

They all laughed, and as the conversation drifted to wedding outfits and whether Molly Weasley would survive Pansy Parkinson in her garden, Hermione leaned into Draco's side.

He squeezed her knee under the table, and for the first time in a long time, the laughter they all shared wasn't forced or guarded.

It was just… easy.