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Hermione Granger marched down the leaf-strewn street, hair whipping in the late-autumn wind. A large carton floated obediently behind her and a to-do scroll bobbed to the right of her temple.
She frowned at it; her presentation title lacked pizzazz, and she was worried that turnout for the first in the four-part series would be low. The whole concept was a touch risky: a Care and Control of Magical Creatures outreach program blending muggle and magical themes for children under 12? Her colleagues had been skeptical folk would be interested—especially during the busy Christmas season. Hermione hoped otherwise, but on the day of the inaugural event, she wondered if she shouldn't have kicked it off with dragons?
She made a face—too late now—and pushed into the Ministry's Educational Annex, crossing its echoing lobby to Classroom A. At least she'd enjoyed planning the series. As department head it was the type of thing she usually would have delegated, but she'd felt a bit…restless…of late.
A feeling she was sure had nothing to do with Ron getting married that summer, or the birth of his twins last month.
Hermione plunked her supplies box on a desk and surveyed the room.
Tall windows, hardwood floor—it would do.
And she was fine with all that Ron faff. Truly. Even if the speed at which it had happened was jarring. They'd still been engaged this time last year. But it had been for the best. Mutual decision, long time coming, etc. Though her (mostly) self-imposed exile from the Weasley family had been difficult.
Anyway, she was glad she'd come up with this project to provide distraction. The blind dates Lavender kept arranging certainly hadn't worked.
Diverting that unproductive train of thought, Hermione aimed a series of spells around the classroom, transfiguring chairs into beanbags and desks into tables on which she placed fossils and fact sheets. At the back she conjured models of Erumpents and Elephants, then glamoured the walls to resemble the savannas of sub-Saharan Africa.
The door creaked open and attendees began trickling in, eyes widening when they clocked Hermione Granger at the front of the room.
Even after all these years.
Hermione welcomed them with encouraging smiles, handing out C&CMC bookmarks to the children and chatting with the parents. By three o'clock, she was pleasantly surprised that nearly every beanbag was taken.
She was less pleasantly surprised when Draco Malfoy walked in hand-in-hand with a miniature copy of himself.
Hermione stared, transported right back to the Hogwarts Express first year. Except the boy was perhaps a little younger? Though he had the platinum hair, fine bone structure, and air of disdain down pat.
He looked around coolly, but his father was warmer, a puzzled smile crossing his face when he spotted Hermione.
She lifted her fingers in response, then turned the gesture into a yank at a nearby curtain. What was she doing? It wasn't like she was friendly with Draco Malfoy.
She'd last seen him years ago—at a lecture she'd attended on stigma in magical society. He'd been on the panel, an apparent expert on blood curses. She'd asked a question, he'd answered, and a frisson had gone through the room at the two of them having an exchange. And through Hermione if she was being very honest. Even when an enemy, he'd been shamefully attractive. And by then everyone had known about his role as a double agent during the war, his charitable work since.
He'd married the younger Greengrass sister, if Hermione remembered correctly. It had been in all the papers.
Just as her death had been four years ago.
Such a sad thing. Hermione glanced at the boy again. He was settling himself on a beanbag at the side of the room, looking like he disapproved of beanbags.
He must be around Albus's age…
Someone coughed and Hermione snapped back to focus, stopping staring at Malfoys and starting her presentation, which began with a quiz—a quiz that was quickly dominated by one individual.
The junior Malfoy knew a lot about Pachyderms and Erumpents.
He raised his hand for every question and answered each correctly. He amended other childrens' incorrect responses. And when Hermione released the group to inspect the models, she overheard him discoursing knowledgeably about the differences between Erumpent and Rhinoceros hide, a gaggle of glassy-eyed attendees in his thrall.
She drifted near and he broke off. "But of course, Ms. Granger knows that Pachydermata is a debunked classification, and thus the shared characteristic of 'thick skin' is insignificant."
Hermione suppressed a snort. "Er, yes. Ahh—?" She looked inquiringly. The boy had eschewed one of the colourful nametags she'd supplied.
"Scorpius H. Malfoy." He made an elegant bow.
"Scorpius is correct." Hermione turned to the gathered crowd, launching into an explanation of why the admittedly obsolete muggle Order was no longer used—which turned rather swiftly into a debate with Scorpius about magical versus muggle species classification.
"But Scamander is inconsistent and Darwin can't encompass magical variation!" The boy's high voice rose over Hermione's as she tried to make a point. Enjoying herself, she didn't mind his interruption, though it did draw his father's attention and clue Hermione in to the fact that the rest of the crowd had gone silent.
Draco approached, leaning down to whisper in his son's ear. Scorpius went back to his beanbag.
"Apologies," he said to the room at large. "I became carried away. It's rare I'm able to converse with a foremost expert in the field."
Hermione quashed an urge to laugh. Draco's eyes met hers and she swore his lips twitched.
"Er. Thank you, Scorpius." Hermione was still looking at Draco, tall and striking in a very muggle outfit of fitted trousers and dark peacoat.
Another cough and she yanked her attention back to the everyone else, finishing the presentation to enthusiastic applause. Afterward, a group surrounded her, but Hermione noted the Malfoys lingering—Scorpius gesturing at the Erupment model and Draco crouched down, nodding thoughtfully. She resolved to go over and speak with them, but was detained by a child with pressing questions about Tapirs.
When she looked back a few minutes later, they were gone.
✨
Leaving the annex, Hermione went directly to Flourish and Blotts. Considering tonight's numbers, she'd need to order additional copies of Charlie's dragon encyclopaedia for the next event. Plus Lavender had mentioned a book that sounded just the thing to warm some of these colder evenings…
Rather avidly perusing Lav's suggestion in the bookshop's muggle Romance section, Hermione started when a posh little voice intruded on her immersion.
"Ms. Granger, thank Mab! I thought that was you. Is the Graphorn heart four-chambered or five? I find this book inadequate to answer my questions."
Scorpius Malfoy appeared in her vision, indignantly holding up a tome on magical herbivores.
"Five, including the thaumaturgic ventricle," she said, eyeing his father, who was ambling up, again looking like he wanted to laugh.
"He reminds me so much of someone I knew in school," Draco said, the tease in his voice sending a distinct tingle down Hermione's spine.
She stiffened it. "No doubt a precocious individual."
"I do score high on muggle intelligence tests," Scorpius said, nose in the book as he wandered back to the Magizoology section.
"Scorpius Malfoy, Hermione Granger," Draco said to his son's retreating back.
"Oh, he introduced himself very properly earlier." Hermione surveyed Scorpius, now frowningly pulling a treatise on Plimpies from the shelf. "He's delightful."
"Thank you for humouring him. We both enjoyed your presentation. Very much." Draco leaned a shoulder on a bookshelf and Hermione went flustered. Warm.
"It was my pleasure." She gestured airily with the book she was holding. His eyes flicked to it and Hermione belatedly remembered it was titled The Laird's Rigid Sword, and splashed luridly with shirtless kilts.
Draco's brows went up.
Hermione shoved the book on a shelf.
"I could get him an official guide!" she exclaimed.
Draco's brows knit.
"A Care and Control of Magical Creatures Field Guide. To slake his thirst for, er, knowledge. It's the same one our agents use. Maybe a Christmas present? The holiday is rushing up so fast!"
Hermione knew her face had gone pink.
"That would be brilliant, thank you," Draco said.
His head tilted and they were just looking at each other. Hermione could smell him. Something masculinely spiced and—
Scorpius reappeared. "Can we go for our hot chocolate now? This place is lacking in good source material."
Hermione put her hand to her throat like a Victorian maiden.
Draco cleared his.
"We're off to have the biggest, most marshmallow-stuffed hot chocolate in London." He ruffled his son's hair.
Scorpius removed his father's hand from his head.
"But we'll see you next time, Ms. Granger. Though I confess I find Dragons pedestrian."
✨✨✨
"Anyone know what this is? Other than Scorpius? Last question!" Hermione floated a massive skull in front of the teeming crowd, easily twice last session's turnout.
"A giraffe!" someone shouted.
"All right Scorpius, go ahead." Hermione nodded at the boy, who was standing in the back with his hand raised. His father, a distraction in rolled sleeves, sat next to him, long legs crossed ankle to knee.
"It's a Mongolian Mole," Scorpius said, bored. "Note the fluted occipita and double-width mandible."
"Excellent." Hermione smiled approvingly.
Scorpius nodded, then sat quietly for the rest of the rather rowdy presentation, though she could sense his (and his father's, dammit) presence. It was no surprise when she felt a prickle between her shoulders, then turned to see them approaching after Q&A.
The prickle got more intense as Draco came nearer, his grey eyes warm on hers. Hermione had never really let herself acknowledge just how arresting he was: the perfectly tousled hair, the sharp jaw, the open collar of his crisp, white shirt…
Issuing a severe internal admonishment, she forced her attention to Scorpius. "Did you enjoy today's presentation?"
"Yes, though as I suspected, the subject-matter drew dilettantes." Scorpius sighed, then surged forward. "But what I really want to speak about is Kneazle genetics!"
"He's been very taken with Kneazle genetics this week," Draco said with an amused glint.
"Yes, father," Scorpius said quellingly. "Ms. Granger, did you know that Kneazle coat color and magic are linked, so a Kneazle must have orange in its pelt to be magical? A strain of non-magical Kneazles evolved in America as the Maine Coon cat breed!"
"I did know that," Hermione said. "Did you know coat length and magic are also linked chromosomally?"
"I didn't. Fascinating." Scorpius tapped his chin.
"I used to own a Kneazle. He lives in Romania with my friend Charlie now."
"Squashed face beast? Used to terrorise people on the Express?" Draco leaned in and Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. Scorpius also squinted at his father, who laughed.
"Same expression, two faces," he quipped.
"Charlie Weasley the author of tonight's text?" Scorpius turned back to Hermione. "I found it quite adequate. He moved closer. "But about Kneazles…"
She and Scorpius talked for a while, and in a fit of excitement over the boy's enthusiasm, Hermione found herself inviting the Malfoys back to her office to see the departmental collection of Kneazle artifacts. Upon arrival in the hallowed halls of the C&CMC, Scorpius was awed, then quickly absorbed in the specimens.
"He's incredibly advanced," she murmured to Draco as they looked on, the hush of the weekend-quiet building wrapped around them.
"Mmm." He nodded. "It's difficult sometimes. To keep him happy. Keep up." A smile flickered over his features. "I'm glad we found you. Er, your programme." He looked at Hermione, and kept looking.
She felt pulled in.
Captivated.
"Only one person I know would also be at work at five on a Saturday!" A voice intruded on the magnetic forcefield that was bending Hermione's senses.
She whirled to see Harry in her office doorway.
"What the—?" His eyes grew round.
"Harry, hiiiii!" Hermione manically performed pseudo-introductions, feeling like she'd been caught making out in a Hogwarts broom closet, rather than inviting a student to examine educational materials. It was all very awkward—Harry and Draco eyeing each other stiffly—until Scorpius stood up and bowed.
"I'm honored to meet you, sir," he said to Harry. "Thank you for your contributions to peace. And congratulations on the DMLE's success with the Demiguise smuggling ring. I followed the case with interest."
"Thanks very much." A smile stole across Harry's face as he took in Scorpius's serious little figure. "Wow, Malfoy, it's like looking at you first year."
Draco inclined his head.
"I'm said to resemble my father strongly. Human genetics are fascinating, though animals hold my interest. But I won't be going to Hogwarts for another two years," Scorpius said as Harry's eyes began to twinkle. "I hope to be sorted into Ravenclaw. It seems the only House with the capability to support my endeavors."
Harry's brows were at his hairline.
Scorpius turned to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, It occurs to me that you weren't in Ravenclaw."
"I almost was, Scorpius—but I'd met Harry on the train and I wanted to be sorted with him. The hat takes preferences into consideration."
"I hadn't known that." Scorpius stared abstractedly. "I'll be sure to marshal my arguments. Is it true you beat my dad at Quidditch even with a broken arm, Mr. Potter?"
Harry snorted. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Yes, who told you that?" Harry asked.
"Uncle Theo."
"Uncle Theo loves spreading stories that put me in an unflattering light," Draco said.
"Father, it's OK to not be better at something than someone. You're always reminding me."
Harry turned a laugh into a cough. Hermione fought her own mirth and Draco closed his eyes, though the corner of his mouth went up.
"Touché, son. Shall we get going?"
"Yes, father. Ms. Granger, you should have a hot chocolate with us this time. They have peppermint now that it's December. And I have additional questions about feline chromosomal loci."
Hermione, catching Harry's startled eye, was charmed to feel a small hand slip into hers. She glanced at Draco—who was nodding—then down to Scorpius's wide, silver gaze.
"All right," she said. "Lead the way."
✨
"Don't hate me, but I love this!" Lavender brandished a pink-flocked wreath dusted with real Pixie dust, a perfect encapsulation of the vintage Christmas fair she'd dragged Hermione to.
"Magical kitsch at its finest." Hermione scanned twinkle-lit booths, shivering in the freezing air as Lav paid for the wreath then grabbed her arm.
"Don't think you're getting out of telling me about this date with Draco Malfoy."
"It was not a date! It was hot chocolate. With his son."
"Even more significant. Ooh, mulled wine!" Lavender pointed at a crowded stand. "And I don't know why you're resistant. We like Draco now. He's successful, cultured, stupidly gorgeous. And if you're in with the kid, that's half the battle. I'm actually annoyed with myself for not thinking of this sooner."
"There's no battle. I'm not— Thinking of what?"
"You and Draco. I styled him for that photoshoot at the former Malfoy Manor this spring. The anniversary thing for his mental health centre? I should have set you up."
Hermione made an exasperated sound, stopping at a table of antique books.
"He lives near here, you know." Lavender gestured to the pretty winterscape surrounding them. "Runs that foundation for blood-curse research."
"I do know." Hermione may have done some digging after the hot chocolate night. And she'd owled Draco the C&CMC guide for Scorpius yesterday.
"So?" Lavender prodded her side.
"What?"
"How was the date?"
"I will only answer if you stop calling it that."
"OK." Lavender fluttered her lashes. "How was the romantic outing for cozy drinks with a stunning single dad and his adorable son?"
"It was nice. We went to muggle London."
"Interesting!"
"I know." Hermione dug under a stack of leather-tooled tomes.
She'd been surprised when Draco had led them over the border. And even more surprised at how comfortable both he and Scorpius seemed with it. They'd gone to posh place called the Wolseley. Laughed. Talked for ages about…
"Kneazles," she breathed, unearthing a brightly-coloured folio which appeared to be a collection of illustrated Kneazle coat patterns. Gorgeously detailed cats danced across each page: one chasing a butterfly, another sitting majestically on a poof.
"He would love this," she murmured.
"Who?" Lavender squinted at the book.
"Er, Scorpius."
"Draco's son?"
"Mmm-hmm." Hermione purchased the folio and tucked it into her shopping bag. "He's so good with him," she said, recalling the interested way Draco had listened to Scorpius's theories. "Very patient."
"Well, it's just the two of them. Draco's been single since his wife died," Lavender said. "Not for lack of trying by many witches. One of the makeup artists was really keen after that shoot, but it didn't go anywhere. I remember her implying the boy may have been an obstacle?"
Hermione nodded. "He's a special child. I find him endearing, but I could see how others might not know how to be with him."
"So Draco needs a mind-bending shag as much as you do."
"Lavender!"
"What? I'm just looking out for you. Best friends do that. You deserve something nice after finally unloading the ginger git. And I can tell you like Draco."
"Wha—?"
"You should take that book over right now. While you're in the neighborhood."
Lav's brows wiggled and in a matter of minutes, Hermione was apparating to the address where she'd sent the field guide yesterday. It was all Lavender's doing—she'd plied Hermione with mulled wine, then practically frog-marched her to apparition point.
"Thank me later!" she'd called, waving vigorously as Hermione swirled away.
✨
Befuddled, Hermione popped into being in front of a tidy sandstone house with a large garden dominated by several menageries. She spotted a patch of Horklumps and a pen of rowdy Clabberts. Parts of the lawn were dug up and sectioned off, as if for an archaeological dig.
Hermione smiled and snuck up the icy path, intending to leave the folio with a note and be off. Scribbling furiously, she froze when she heard masculine laughter from the side of the house, then stared as Draco came around the corner with a slight, dark-haired man.
They were in Quidditch whites.
"Hi." Draco stopped short.
He looked very good in his Quidditch whites.
"Whyever is Hermione Granger in your garden, Draco?" The dark-haired man's eyes snapped with a dawning delight.
Hermione stumblingly explained her presence as Draco introduced his companion.
"Of course I remember you." Hermione darted forward and shook Theo Nott's hand. He kept hers clasped and smiled like one of felines in the Kneazle folio.
"You've become just stunning, Granger. Who'd have thunk?" His warm drawl took any sting out of the words. "And you're here with gifts for my godson?" He glanced at Draco. "I love this for you."
Hermione turned mortified eyes to Draco, but he was looking daggers at Theo.
"Anyway, I'm off." Theo winked. "Drinks with a boy in the City. But you should stay for lunch, Granger."
He wiggled his fingers, stepped gracefully into the apparition circle, and was gone.
Draco passed a hand over his face, but when he looked up, he was laughing.
"Sorry about him. He's, ah, singular. Would you like to stay for lunch? Scorpius is with my mother, so it's just me and soup, but—"
Colour stained his jaw and he was so earnest that Hermione found herself agreeing, then ensconced at a lovely kitchen table while a housekeeper (no elves, fascinating) bustled around serving the aforementioned soup with home-baked bread.
Hermione complimented Scorpius's Bowtruckle farm, set in an alcove nearby.
"His projects are everywhere," Draco smiled. "I'm sure you noticed the dinosaur dig in the front garden? Thanks very much to you for that."
"I thought he considered dinosaurs pedestrian!"
""If Ms. Granger finds them worth consideration, father.""
His imitation was spot on and Hermione burst out laughing.
She squinted. "Were you like that as a child?"
"Uh, no. You knew me not much later. I was too busy being an arrogant little shit to think about things the way Scorpius does. He's much more like his mum." Draco's face stilled and Hermione reached across the table.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks." He tore off a bit of bread. "It was an arranged marriage, you know. Last thing I could do for my mother after…everything." He waved away the end of the war. His father's death. "I was so numb at the time that I barely cared. And Astoria wasn't the kind to form deep attachments. But we were happy in our way." He nodded. "She certainly adored Scorp. He misses her and their talks."
"I'm sure he does." Hermione's heart ached for the boy. And his father.
"I worry about him sometimes." His eyes met hers. "His ability to connect with others. At Hogwarts, once I'm not around. Children his own age bore him. All his friends are adults—you being his favorite one lately." His lips quirked. "Though meeting Harry Potter was a life highlight he hasn't stopped talking about."
Hermione chuckled. Her hand was still outstretched and she thought for a brief, mad moment about taking his. Instead, she sat back.
"I think the best you can do is surround him with loving people. He'll find his folk. Especially when he gets sorted into Ravenclaw. And keep bringing him to C&CMC events. He has a bright future there."
"Right." Draco's smile emerged, then faded. "And what about you?" He fiddled with his water glass. "I read in the Prophet about Weasley's shock marriage?"
"Oh!" Hermione blinked. "Our split was a long time coming. I'm happy for him, though I do miss the Weasley family. Especially at the holidays."
"Is yours not—?"
"My parents are in Australia, so I don't see them much. Harry and Ron were my defacto for a long time, but as we get older… Do you notice people sort of— getting siloed? In their families?"
She looked up and Draco was nodding.
"I do." He held her gaze. "That's why you have to find your own."
✨✨✨
Hermione took a last question about Acromantulas, then released the audience to marvel at tanks of invertebrates.
An audience which did not include Draco and Scorpius.
Was it something she'd said at lunch?
Draco had looked up from their exchange about found family like he was going to change her life, but instead yelped, "Oh, shit!" and leapt from the table.
He'd been late to pick up Scorpius. And though there'd been a sweetness to their rushed goodbye, she hadn't heard from him since.
"Hey! Do not open that!" Hermione snapped out of her glum reverie to prevent disaster at the Chizpurfle tank, but was brought up short when she spotted Theo Nott, of all people. He was lounging at the back of the room and regarding the mix of children and flobberworms with deep alarm.
She hurried over.
"They're sick. Father and son," Theo said, air-kissing her cheeks. "Some sniffly bug with lots of sneezing and moaning. Especially about missing this event. So I thought I'd drop by." He lifted a shoulder and a brow.
"I'm charged particularly with telling you how thoughtful the 'folio gift' is. He says he forgot to mention it the other day because— Well, lets leave that for him to explain, shall we? Anyway, want to have a drink?"
Hermione closed her mouth.
"Yes," she said, spirits fizzing as she processed Theo's words.
"Excellent. I know a snug little spot in Knockturn."
Hermione ushered out stragglers, collected her things, and was soon on the street with Theo, dodging Christmas shoppers as snowflakes scattered from a frigid sky.
"I'm glad we're doing this, Granger." He glanced at her. "I want to get to know you. And ask your advice."
"Likewise," Hermione said. She already liked Theo. And she couldn't help but wonder at the significance of this visit. "Advice about?"
He tucked her hand under the sleeve of his extravagant fur coat. "I'm told by my godson that you're in tight with that dishy dragon tamer in Romania."
"Charlie Weasley?" Hermione laughed. Charlie was between boyfriends.
"Yes." Theo's eyes gleamed. "Tell me, how does one go about getting an introduction?"
✨✨✨
Hermione knew it was mad to schedule the last presentation on Christmas day, but at least it had given her something to do. It was the first time she wouldn't be at the Burrow in over a decade, she had nowhere else to go, and no matter how much she rationalised, it was all a bit sad.
Sighing, she transfigured the now-familiar beanbags, floated a draped owl cage to the front of the room, and magicked the ceiling to look like a starry sky.
The clock ticked past the hour. The owl hooted.
She fed him a treat, her thoughts sidling to the Malfoys—though she didn't expect them since Theo had mentioned they'd be away for the holiday. Had she been daft to expect anyone?
Maybe she should just go home. Read a book by the fire. Save her celebrating for Lavender's Boxing Day party tomorrow.
With a nod, she got up and aimed her wand at the beanbags.
Just as a high voice chirped in from the hall.
"...Theorize the Owl's serrated primary feathers disrupt sound waves via microturbulences and may shift sound to a— Oh hello, Ms. Granger. Apologies for being late. My father had to change his jumper three times."
Scorpius bowed in the doorway as a stupid smile spread over Hermione's face. An answering one lit Draco's. Though he broke away to frown at his son.
"It was not three, Scorpius— Uh, hello. Are we the only ones?"
"Apparently." Hermione shrugged. "It was silly to schedule it today. And I thought you were away?"
"We were. But neither of us wanted to miss this."
"Oh." Hermione's heart gave a queer little thump.
"Ms. Granger." She felt a tug on her skirt and looked down to see Scorpius's face ablaze with strong emotion. "I must tell you, the Kneazle portfolio is—by a significant margin—the best gift I've ever received. Thank you very much. The representation of dilute modifiers alone…" He waved a hand.
"You're very welcome, Scorpius. It was thrilling to find it when I knew of such a worthy recipient. What did you think of the rosette pelt series? I've never seen those in nature."
Scorpius thought quite a lot, though the bird's presence eventually drew his attention. Hermione took Boreal, a pure-white Snowy Owl, out of his cage and let him swoop silently between father and son.
She also took the opportunity to help Draco with his falconry form, coming up behind him and adjusting the angle of his elbow.
"That's it. Give him a better perch," she murmured, lips quite close to his ear.
The look he gave her over his shoulder made her entire body go up in flame. She stilled and his eyes darkened to slate.
"This is the kind of owl I want when I go to Hogwarts, dad," Scorpius called. "The kind Harry Potter had."
Hermione couldn't contain her snort. Draco shook his head once. "My penance," he said ruefully. Hermione patted his arm.
Eventually time ticked down.
"Where are you off to now?" Draco asked as Scorpius communed with Boreal.
"Uh, nowhere. Home." Hermione stacked pamphlets.
"What, alone?"
"Yes, but it's fine. I'm—"
"Please." His fingers trailed her arm. "Come to ours. I'm attempting a turkey, and it's just the two of us."
"Your mother?" Hermione couldn't quite envision Christmas dinner with Narcissa Malfoy.
"In France and 'doesn't do Christmas.'"
"What about Theo?"
"Same."
Hermione laughed, agreeing to join them with a sense of throwing caution to a frosty Yuletide wind.
They saw Boreal back to the Ministry owlery, then swirled out of the apparition point, Scorpius's hand (sticky from the surfeit of candy canes he'd consumed during the presentation) squeezing hers.
The sandstone house was festive, a wreath on the door and a candle in each window. Even the dinosaur dig boasted a string of twinkle lights. When they stepped inside, Scorpius ran immediately for the stairs and his notes on the folio. He called for Hermione to follow and she started to, but a much larger, warmer hand slipped around hers.
"Wait," Draco said, pulling her gently around.
Hermione's breath caught.
"Thank you for coming. You've made his day." His thumb brushed her knuckles. "And mine. You've made the last two months, really. I feel like I've found—"
His brow creased and Hermione reached up to smooth it.
"Me too," she whispered.
His fingers slid around her jaw. "You're so incredibly beautiful. I might not get a chance to do this later."
And then he kissed her.
A kiss that was tender and dazzling and scorching all at once.
Hermione was lost, her fingers threading his nape and her tongue eagerly—
"Homo Sapiens and Pan Paniscus are the only species that touch mouths to show affection." Scorpius strolled by with another candy cane in his mouth. "I think my notes are actually in the sunroom."
Draco and Hermione broke into silent laughter, their foreheads touching.
"Yes," Hermione called. "But do you know what double-ended Newts do...?"
✨
Later, after Draco had carried a sleepy Scorpius to bed, he and Hermione were making good use of the mistletoe.
"It's late." Reluctant, she broke away. "I should go."
"But will you come back? I'd like to see you again. And again." Draco feathered kisses under her ear, then pulled back, his eyes pure silver and his bright hair falling over his forehead.
"I'd like that too."
He looked at her for a long moment.
"What?"
"Just, can't believe I found you. And in a dusty educational annex."
"We found each other."
He glanced upward. "All of us."
"Exactly." Hermione smiled and kissed him again.