If there was one thing Harry could count on, it was Hermione Granger throwing herself at him with no warning. It always seemed to surprise him even when it shouldn’t; she did it all the time, and it always managed to catch him off guard. Harry wrapped his arms around her and let out a short laugh. “I can’t make any promises but I’ll do my best.” So long as Malfoy wasn’t a complete prick, Harry might be able to keep most of his comments to himself - if not for his love of Hermione, than his fear of her. A lot had changed since they were students, even if it only had been a few years. Harry could attempt to tolerate Draco Malfoy for his sister and Hermione’s sake even if he didn’t quite see the appeal. “So you’re coming back? That’s brilliant, Hermione, really.” He meant that. Being without either of his best friends felt like a limb was missing. “I’m not unhappy.” Harry admitted. “I’m still working on the happiness bit. Not just because of all the unpacking.” No, that would be an insufferable task, but one he was excited for. A home of his own with Ginny, even if it was a small apartment, that was all he could have asked for. “I told Kingsley that I’m resigning from Auror training. McGonagall agreed to hire me onto the staff once the school is restored and open again.” There was a smile on Harry’s face just thinking about it. For as much as he knew he was needed as an Auror, it had felt like it was killing him even after only six months. Hogwarts had been his home and if he could have a part in fixing it and being part of it again, that was what felt right.
“Screw the ministry, Harry. You’re going to be bloody brilliant as a professor,” If anyone understood what students needed when they were away from home it was going to be Harry. Not only was he wicked smart, at least academically when he pulled his head out of his ass, but his compassion was going to change lives. “You’re going to inspire the next generation of witches and wizards, and perhaps that’s where we all truly need you to be. That way no one else slips past, and becomes like Voldemort again. I’m honestly so happy for you,” Although Hermione was always going to be happy for him as long as he was doing what was best for himself. And creating the life he deserved with Ginny? She couldn’t imagine anything better for him. She stepped back from him giving him a little breathing room; even though she enjoyed the small moments he did let her be physically affectionate. “I’m still grateful that you love me enough to be civil with him, and that he also loves me enough to do his best to get along with you. It would literally eat me alive if I ever had to choose between the two of you. You’re both far too important to me to ever choose.”
Even though the thought had crossed her mind, that this younger version of her mother would have no idea who she was, Rose still felt her heart drop to have that confirmed. “Oh, I’m not - I’m not anyone.” She shook her head, a small smile on her face that was sadder than she hoped. It was taking everything in her not to fall apart but she had never been great at schooling her expressions. “My name is Rose.” She offered. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be interrupting, I’m sure you’re busy and tired of having strangers come up to you.” It was a knife in her chest to consider that: Rose was a stranger to her own mother. To the woman who carried and gave birth to and raised her. Rose’s fingers twisted together as she took a deep breath. She knew better than to dump the truth of this onto her; if Rose was logical and having a hard time making sense of it, she got it from somewhere. Hermione Granger wouldn’t believe a word she said. But she needed to tell her at least part of it. Months of aching for her mother to come back, she had to tell her some of it, even if it wasn’t how she had hoped for. “I’ve admired you for a very long time.” An understatement. I miss you, mum. “I didn’t know if I would ever be lucky enough to see you and tell you.” I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. “And I —I hope to be half as remarkable as you someday.” All I’ve ever wanted was you and dad to be proud of me. Rose shook her head and did her best to keep herself from letting the grief she felt overwhelm her. Not now. Not until she was home where only Scorpius would see it. “Anyway.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll let you get back to it, I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“No,” the word slipped out without her prompting as Hermione reached out resting her hand on the young woman’s arm trying to stop her from turning away. “You’re someone. Someone to me,” she wasn’t sure how she knew that, but there was no doubt about it that she wasn’t some stranger. She didn’t understand why she was feeling her heart racing against her chest as if she was panicked over losing a connection this girl. Her gaze flickered over her different features as she tapped her nose gently, “you have my nose, but Ron’s hair and eyes. Yet those are my lips.” A puzzle was slowly putting itself together right in front of her as she reached out to tuck a strand of the girl’s hair behind her ears. “I always said if I had a little girl I would name her Rose. You’re my daughter aren’t you?” She asked quietly leaning in to rest her forehead against the younger woman’s.
“No.” Cassiopeia laughed, shaking her head. “But he does have his moments now and again,” not many, but enough that to anyone who didn’t know him well, he might be able to pretend otherwise. It was a large if. “You had other things to focus on than a betting pool your fifth year. Like keeping Harry from doing something horrendously stupid and getting himself killed.” No. Instead, it was her father who died. A fact that flashed through her eyes without her having to say it. Instead, she tried to focus on listening to anything about Draco - a sentiment that was as infuriating as it was reassuring. For the exact same reason. “He’s really coming back?” Cass asked after a moment of silence, her voice softer than she expected as she met Hermione’s eyes. “Where are you going? When he drags his ass back to London permanently.” She wanted to keep asking; to know wherever the fuck it was her cousin had screwed off to that was so important he couldn’t bother answering her letters. For a year. “Now I know you’re lying. He’s never been sane.” It should have sounded like a joke, but it didn’t. Draco was as sane as she was. The benefit and detriment of being so well acquainted with the sound of each other’s screams waking them at all hours. Still, Cassiopeia knew that she could say whatever she wanted about him forever, but knowing he was actually alive was a relief. It was bad enough Eric kept vanishing without him doing it too. “Cedric has brain cells without me.” She laughed. “He just doesn’t know how to use them.”
“Even with a war going on I would want in on a betting pool if it involves the idiocy of my closest and dearest friends. Especially given the stress levels those idiots constantly put me through,” and despite every complaint that would slip out of her mouth about them there still wasn’t a single thing Hermione would change about either of them. Peace was a thing of dreams for her. Something she unfortunately came to terms with by third year. By then she was already sucked in too far with them to ever know what life was like to have normal friends. “He’s really coming back,” she promised quietly offering her the smallest of smiles, “I figure we’ll find a flat somewhere nearby. Hell maybe even Harry and Ginny’s since they’re moving, but he is coming back.” Was it for good? She hoped so, but she wouldn’t put it into the universe that it absolutely was. Not until she had a sign that he wouldn’t run away afraid again. Hermione could never blame him if he did, but it certainly made it harder to trust that this time was for real. “I’m honestly curious which one of us is sane though. Even without the trauma we’ve all endured I’m not entirely certain any of us have been sane a day in our lives.” Her small smile twitched upwards until it was brighter as she shook her head. “Okay he had braincells, but he needs you to help know how to work them sometimes.”
“So you say, but you’ll be wearing it the rest of our lives. It should be one you’re happy with.” Perhaps the ring wasn’t what should matter, but it did matter. Call it materialism that he couldn’t shake, or simply vanity that he couldn’t let go of, but it did matter. If Hermione was going to have a ring symbolizing their relationship, he wanted her to be happy with it. Not a symbol of power or wealth, as so many others were. “And I love you.” Draco smiled, a real one, unlike so many he offered so much of the time to anyone else, resting his hands gently against the sides of her neck. “I’ve done a shit job showing it, but that’s going to change.”
“Draco, I’m going to be happy with any ring. I mean that genuinely from the bottom of my heart and soul. Any ring you give me is going to mean the absolute world to me, but I also know you. It’s going to be a gorgeous ring you wouldn’t settle for less than the best for me.” Still she couldn’t help the way she knew her eyes widened when she did spot the ring. Absolutely gorgeous in all of the ways that she knew he would have been sure it was. Hermione drew him in for a deep kiss before making sure to pull his forehead to rest against hers, “I know you love me. You show it in different ways, but I’ve very rarely ever wondered about it.” The only time was the year they spent apart, and it had wrecked her. But she knew deep down why and it had nothing to do with his feelings for her.
A smile stretched across Draco’s lips without pause, the hand not holding the ring box wrapping around her waist to press his lips to hers. “I love you.” He hummed in content. Engaged to Hermione Granger; his father in Azkaban would be furious to see it in the papers, but for the first time in his life, the idea of pissing Lucius Malfoy off flooded Draco with more amusement than panic. He couldn’t touch them. “Do you want to see the ring? Did you even see it before you said yes?” Draco asked, a slight note of amusement in his voice as he looked back enough to look at her. His fiancé.
“The ring doesn’t even matter,” she murmured against his lips unable to believe just how happy she felt in that moment before pulling back slowly in order to truly look at Draco. “If you insist though I will happily take a look at the ring,” for Hermione it could have been a simple band and she would have been over the moon with it. All that mattered to her was the fact that he wanted to marry her. That Draco Malfoy; the annoyingly handsome, stubborn, brilliant, pain in her ass most days, was choosing to spend his life with her. To be her husband. “I love you, Draco. I hope you know just how intensely I mean that statement, and that I will always, always choose you.”
“Even then, I remember Harry’s first year, and he barely knew his ass from his head. The twins had a running betting pool going about how long it was going to take them to get on time to class.” A pool that Cassiopeia herself had been apart of, obviously. It didn’t need said that it had been her idea and Fred and George had simply run with it; Harry was like a brother to her, and it didn’t matter if that hadn’t been the case his first year when that was how it turned out. “I’m just.. I’ve been so mad at him, Hermione.” She sighed, shaking her head slightly. That went without saying, too. When it came to Draco, like most things anymore, it was easier to be angry than the alternative. Better to be angry than to be afraid of what could happen to him. Afraid that she was going to only keep losing people the moment she let herself care. “Is he…” Cass cleared her throat, licking her lips. “How is he?” She heaved in a deep breath at the question. “Is he coming back?” The second question slipped out before she could stop it, but it couldn’t be helped. Draco, by some stretch of impossibility, had become some of the only family she had - one of the few she was truly related to that was alive and who she cared about, at that. “Only one shoe?” Cass laughed again, still trying to make sense of it. “He couldn’t have lost it at the Ministry, somebody would have noticed it, right? The one day I don’t go in.”
“Are you saying Harry knows his head from his ass now most days?” Hermione couldn’t help the question as she laughed happily. She loved him so much. As an only child Harry had always been the brother she wanted, but that didn’t mean she was blind to how truly idiotic he could be sometimes. If anything it made her more aware of the fact. “Honestly I should have gotten in on the pool even by fifth year. It’s truly a miracle whenever he did manage to make it.” How anyone was truly as misguided as her friends tended to be was truly a miracle that they ever managed to not get expelled. At least officially. Hermione reached out resting a hand on her shoulder rubbing it tenderly, “I know. Trust me I’m furious with him too, but I also can’t keep living my life without him there either. And he’s aware I can’t leave London. I can’t leave you. It wasn’t even a discussion we had. He knew I couldn’t leave so he decided dealing with the looks and the whispered were worth it. That he was willing to deal with it all for me.” She knew how lucky she was and she was never going to second guess that. “He’s okay, Cass. Maybe a little scared. But he’s at least alive and mostly sane. It’s all I can ask of him. Now, I can ask your boyfriend about five thousand questions because he’s truly something else.” Hermione’s lips twitched upwards as she pulled back to look at her best friend. “I’m starting to think you’re his braincells he needs to function.”
It had been what felt like the longest year of Rose’s life. Something was wrong and there was nothing she could do to stop it, but simply watch it happen. Her mother was gone. With her, so was Scorpius’ father, Lily’s parents, Bill and Fleur. She couldn’t figure it out, and while Rose was beyond grateful her father and Hugo still seemed to be together, the more time that passed… the more afraid she grew that Ron would disappear, too. She kept looking, but it seemed like no matter what she did, there was no answer. Until that morning. Something felt different in a way she didn’t know how to explain, but when Rose showed up to the Ministry - to once again ask Kingsley questions he couldn’t answer - she stopped in her tracks at the sight of her mother. There was no doubt in her mind that the woman standing on the other side of the atrium was Hermione Granger. Far younger than she should have looked, a thought that was like a knife to Rose’s heart, because with it came the thought that her mother would have no idea who she was. She drew in a deep breath and folded her hands together as she crossed to where she was standing, trying to keep them from shaking. Any breakdown, tears or otherwise, needed to wait until she wasn’t standing in front of her. “Excuse me?” Rose managed, grateful the shaking only seemed to be happening inside of her but not in her words. “You’re Hermione Granger, aren’t you?”
Hermione had never wanted rich and fame. If she had she would have figured out a plan that wasn’t simply just be smart and figure out what life looks like from there. After all she was friends with Harry Potter and even Viktor Krum if she wanted to exploit them she would have. Yet she still became famous because she hadn’t been able to stand by in the war. If she could do something she was going to. And if she was being honest she would have rather been able to melt into the background than constantly be pointed out as a war hero. Still that wasn’t the woman in front of her’s fault. Hermione was able to force a bright smile to her face as she turned her attention to her quickly coming to a pause. If she was crazy she would have believed the girl in front of her could have passed for a child from her and Ron of all people. Or maybe she was having baby fever of all things which seemed so odd considering the circumstances. If anything she should be imagining a tiny baby and not the woman in front of her. “I—I am,” she finally stammered out shaking her head, “and you are?” She asked raising her eyebrows trying to piece it together for herself.
