Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermione sits at a round table with one hand holding onto her Moggie Boggart that she ordered from the wedding's open bar. A very generic cocktail name that muggles would have actually just called a White Russian. Her ring finger, that tapped along with the other impatient fingers on the rim of the glass,was visibly decorated with a simple, yet enchanted silver band that had a half carat diamond twinkling underneath the warm enchanted lighting inside the wedding venue.

She slouches in her chair. Her other hand grips the back of the current empty wooden chair to the right of her. Hermione's rested wrist can be slightly seen from when the sleeves of her blazer were pushed up by the chair's back. It partially revealed Hermione's old pale scar of jagged letters that contrasts from the tan she recently got when visiting Portugal just two weeks prior. Though the craftsmanship of the wooden chair was beautiful, it wasn't very comfortable or practical to actually sit in. Not with the back carving of the chair being of twin dragon necks entwined together and no cushion.

Usually Hermione would sit up properly with her back straight and proper, as she was never one to slouch in front of others even with a comfortable chair, but she currently wasn't in the mood to display her own exhausting 'Goody-Two-Shoes' persona today, or any day lately for that matter. Even if that might do Hermione some good in channeling her righteous twelve year old self right about now, she might not even have the tolerance or energy to deal with her own twelve year old self. She had been on zero caffeine, no perk-up potions, or anything really to relieve the little headache she had already developed earlier this morning when having to deal with a ruined enchanted dress and a pretty witch in tears because of it.

With the ceremony finished, all that was left was to attend the reception. From past experiences, wedding receptions could go on for hours with an open bar, so Hermione at least hoped the coffee-flavored cocktail she ordered would be a helpful 'pick-me-up' to keep her going and survive the wedding celebration that would blend into evening fun. 

After taking a sip, Hermione sits the short glass back down onto the table next to a flute of champagne that had most likely gone flat by now with the owner having wandered off. 

Earlier with her lack of energy and interest, Hermione had to be reminded to smile constantly during the ceremony. 

She would get criticized by her plus one with, "You're scowling again, Granger..."

And, Hermione would have to exasperatedly give the other witch a defensive response in the back pews,"That's just how I look!"

Without that reminder currently at her side, Ginny had to verbally nudge Hermione to act along with them. She would have to lift her hand up casually to greet someone with her fake smile even though she doesn't even recognize the so-called friend, but Ginny apparently did. Hermione just had to put her trust in her friends that it wasn't someone from the media she wasn't accidentally waving over. 

Ginny wouldn't do that to me though… Well, Hermione didn't actually know, because Ron's chaotic sister might find it more amusing to just watch an embarrassed Hermione having to apologize and tell a journalist she was actually waving at some guy behind them. 

At least I have the excuse ready if need be! It won't be my embarrassment, it'll be the journalist's!

Hermione has practiced this politician's smile in the mirror so many times to get it just right, but she absolutely loathed herself every time she did it in public. Fake smiles were not something that Hermione liked to share, mostly because she has this horrendous opinion that it makes her look similar to Dolores Umbridge. Looking absolutely bat-shit and insincere. Sadly, working as a public official forces Hermione to be friendly even if she wasn't in the mood for it. Her goal of becoming the next Minister of Magic after Kingsley Shacklebolt was a...long way to go…given how her current image to voters wasn't looking so good, but Hermione knew she still had to keep up with the charades even at a time like this. 

Maybe not all smiles or energy for everyone present at the reception, but at least Hermione was able to clean herself up nicely for today. 

For the wedding, Hermione wore a feminine blazer in the color of red wine with a partly open white collar blouse and matching red wine trimmed trousers that paired well with her dragon leather shoes that tapped on the floor occasionally to the live goblin band's performance. Despite her current exhaustion, Hermione's brown eyes look warm, and when the light hits just right at a certain angle, her brown takes on an amber hue. Her goldenrod mane of hair had a lot of volume and was able to lay loose just at her shoulders without growing wild.

Her curls and waves were more tame now than her younger-self's frizz that was constantly fighting off Scotland's climate back when she attended Hogwarts. Testing several different bottles of hair potions and techniques over the course of her almost twenty-eight years of life was the trick to finally finding the perfect hair. Hermione even had to praise Harry's late great-grandfather for his inventive and simple Sleek-Eazy potion that she used religiously when having to deal with her frizz on uncooperative rainy mornings. Without that potion's existence, she would have been contemplating shaving it all off out of frustration every morning. Hermione won't actually do that of course, but Sleak-Eazy has helped her in a pinch even if it had to take the whole bottle.

The bookworm of yesterday has grown confident in herself, though perhaps more bitter, more spiteful, and actually realistic with her ideals than the clueless twelve year old that idolized a fair justice system and believed in the trusted authoritative figures that were to uphold the law.

Not even Hermione Granger of today was able to spare herself from being tangled up in such a messy career where greed existed in all forms of ambition and where everyone's own idealism of the 'perfect' world seems to only ever have a dark underbelly to it. Not even the purest forms of ideals were safe from corruption. Righteous ideals could be just as sinister when needing to put it forth into action, because where there is a belief of having only one way of doing something and no other, there will likely be denial to one's own corrupted actions when in the name of doing 'good'. 

Hermione could be guilty of that. The amount of horrid things she had done in the name of 'good'. In the name of 'Albus Dumbledore'. In the name of 'Harry Potter'. 

Ron sat further to the left of Hermione with just another empty chair separating them. His freckled hand tapped against the table with impatience as well. He looked around with clear intentions of wanting to be anywhere but here. Not that he had anywhere important to be at this time of day on a Sunday. He just really disliked the groom and the groom's party. 

"You think I could slip out and not get myself noticed?"

Ginny was already tired of her own brother's attitude since having to sit through the ceremony with him, "They haven't even cut the cake yet, Ronald! Can't you be a little more patient for my best mate's wedding?"

Hermione isn't sure if 'best' is the adjective to use since Ginny didn't even know who her 'best' friend was getting married to until the invitations were sent out. Ginny's not even a bridesmaid! With that thought clearly on her face, Hermione takes a sip from her glass in order to hide her expressive thoughts from Ginny who was already sensitive about Luna Lovegood not having asked her. 

"Sounding like mum again—" Ron caught the warning look in the shared blue eyes, and with Ginny actually sitting right next to him, he avoided saying anything further about his sister. He glanced away with a heavy sigh, "Suppose I'll stay for the cake, what flavor do you think?"

Harry takes a guess, "Red Velvet?"

He sits to Ginny's other side, and much like Hermione and Ron, he only politely smiles at the passing witches and wizards who curiously wander by to steal a glance at the 'Golden Trio.' No one could miss the three at the grand wedding, not with the vibrant red-hair of a Weasley being the beacon to find Harry Potter and his visible lightning bolt scar. 

Saving the Wizarding world from a notorious dark wizard at just eighteen gave all three a celebrity status, but honestly, Hermione would only ever use 'Golden Trio' out of irony. There was nothing golden about them. The trio's many uncovered dirty scandals over the years shouldn't ever place them on such a pedestal. The trio were just the juiciest targets for any salivating journalist who wanted to make a name for themselves. Or to get themselves back out there, like Rita Skeeter for instance. The old beetle came out of retirement a little over a year ago just to ruin Hermione's career!

In the muggle world, Hermione was a nobody, but not in the Wizarding world. Everyone knew Hermione Granger as 'The Brightest Witch Of Her Age', or lately, as the press like to write in the headlines, 'The Most Corrupt Witch Of Her Age'.

Everyone wanted to get every last sickle and knut out of her name for what they could these days. The current ongoing investigation for her corruption was the most popular story to date, even if that person didn't actually believe Hermione did any of those things, everyone was still talking about it. 

Minister Shacklebolt assured Hermione the investigation would be over in a week and the suspension would be lifted when finding her innocent, but it's been going on for two months now. Somebody had to be stalling for new evidence to come through, and Hermione wished she knew what that evidence could even be, because there shouldn't be anything for them to find!

Ron continues to grumble at the table, "Ugh. Don't want Red Velvet."

His fiery red hair was mussed, his black tie he wore around his neck was loose and his sleeves were rolled up. His suit jacket ended up being tossed across the back of his chair at some point. 

Ron's current disheveled look reminded Hermione a bit of how he used to dress in his Hogwarts uniform, especially during the early days of June when the weather was the warmest. The man of course had grown into his height and ears now, no longer the lanky guy wearing his ankle showing handy-down trousers. 

If it wasn't for the reporters and radio hosts among the guests, Ron would have likely already left by the time the ceremony was over, because even he didn't want to deal with any backlash in the papers saying that he snubbed his own friend's wedding and groom. 

Hermione thinks that Ron might actually be able to get away with it though compared to Harry and herself, as Ron's staunch attitude of disliking Death Eater sympathizers was well known among the population and walking out on a Death Eater son's wedding would earn Ron a pat on the back and a free round of pints for most of the night by his own little fans at his local pub. 

Oh, but definitely not for me! No one would be patting her on the back! She'd be called a hypocrite and someone who didn't practice what she preached if she was ever seen walking out of here so early in the day, perhaps even called suspicious as to where she even thought of going on a free Sunday afternoon, because out of everyone here, Hermione really shouldn't have anywhere else to go since being suspended from all work activities and schedule free. Half the community already wanted her arrested and held accountable, so they would be riled up with even just a crumb of her misgivings.

Her wife's family weren't even Death Eaters, so to even say she was a 'hypocrite' would be completely off, but the witch was known for being the one who had wanted to offer Harry up to Voldemort. Pansy was obviously forgiven by Harry years ago, but the public and media just love to bring it back up now after Hermione's scandalous marriage was announced at the same time she was being investigated. 

It was a two-for-one in the papers!

In private, Hermione would not call Pansy Parkinson her wife. Before rings were brought into this Pansy was… an accomplice? A partner in crime? Co-conspirator? Gold-Lender? Moneybags? Well, whatever they were for each other, the two couldn't really get out of it now, because they were tied to it.

At the beginning, almost two years ago at this point when it all started, Pansy actually didn't do anything besides visit her dad… who just so happened to be the Head of Finance after the war, and while the wizard was distracted with his cup of tea, Pansy stamped his Department's 'ACCEPT' on Hermione Granger's yearly budget form that had previously been rejected. The witch had included her dad's forged signature that Pansy had practiced and written from a number of occasions since she was just thirteen years of age. And then, Pansy placed it into the Out Box—

Now, saying the witch didn't do much was actually very detached of Hermione Granger to not recognize it as a crime. 

It was a crime!

It was considered embezzlement , even if Hermione was going to use the funds exactly as it said on the form for her office. Head Igor Parkinson never approved that budget form, especially not with the fake signature, in fact, the stingy wizard had a history of rejecting Hermione's readjusted budget forms with his 'unprofitable reasons' until she was left with not much of a budget at all. 

It was all Hermione's idea and Pansy only became her accomplice when she accepted the deal between them. The price that had be paid to the heiress for contributing was being able to use Hermione's good name and even recommend Pansy as 'Miss October' for the Witch Weekly fashion week—the biggest name-making modeling shoot for anyone's starting career; something that Pansy's own reputation would have never been able to accomplish. Rich heiress or not, Witch Weekly would have never picked Pansy Parkinson even if she was qualified. Not with the risk of their sales on the line and afraid that Pansy would be recognized by the public and receive the backlash themselves, but Hermione was able to easily push Pansy through the 'backdoor' without much resistance from the magazine. 

So, each witch got what she wanted— a rising career out of the other.

It just never did end there with the expensive yearly budget and becoming Miss October for Hermione and Pansy. The two found themselves returning to each other on several occasions to help pave the way for their careers; all for the price of what can be given in turn. 

Unlike Pansy, Hermione Granger's name was worth almost millions to the Wizarding entertainment industry and she could have them flip over backwards for just one promised interview with her. While Hermione wasn't actually all that popular in her own field of a career, in the world of politics, Pansy Parkinson's fortune was a solid handshake and the devil's song for the greedy. Hermione's own heart had wavered to that very same song in accepting Pansy's money when she found out the truth of somebody at the ministry having intentionally targeted her and placed a shadow ban on her own name and office. Her career came to a very slow crawl and it explained why even Mr. Parkinson's hands were tied about her budget every year. 

To say you wouldn't falter to such a song like herself was a cognitive bias. No one has any actual clue on what they would do unless they were up against such a matter for themselves. Hermione didn't think she would ever falter based on her own character and ideals, but she did. She willingly planted that poisonous foxglove in her garden, and watched it bloom beautifully, knowing it could possibly kill her or save her from failure. 

She knows that without that yearly budget going through Hermione wouldn't have been able to even keep her little broom closet that she called an office almost two years ago, but even if that saved her for a time, her shadow ban would have stripped her of everything she ever wanted to accomplish when wanting to climb her way up the ministry. 

Hermione got to have a number of policies passed and promised handshakes at the Ministry; including the removal of her shadow ban. Only because her Elf Welfare Office, through the eyes of others , soon began to look profitable to the Ministry when others began to curiously peek over the numbers, but truthfully Hermione only secretly borrowed most of Pansy's wealth to display it as her office's own lobbying funds to reel in those supporters and allies in the Wizengamot. And, at the end of the day there was no real profit actually being earned through it for anyone except the elves, only Pansy benefited by continuing to get her face on almost every advertisement and magazine in wizarding entertainment by Hermione's own 'stamp' of approval.

Such a risk between them if they were ever caught, more so for Hermione since her political career disallowed what could be considered bribery and embezzlement even if it was all for her righteous cause to continue her slow work in helping the house elves one generation at a time.

Hermione isn't exactly sure who reported her misdeeds or involvement with Pansy Parkinson to Rita Skeeter nor how the little evidence that was presented was even able to cause the Magical Law Enforcement department to try and arrest her in the first place, but quill went to parchment just two months ago and the scandal seemed to have broken out overnight about Hermione's corruption even before the morning copies were ever owled. 

The Wizarding Wireless buzzed with anticipation for Rita's article to be published and the public were already calling for Hermione Granger to be removed from her position of office before they ever read the article. Hermione even found Padma Patil to be suspiciously eager and quick to be the one assigned to Hermione's corruption case. 

The former classmate turned MLE Corruption Officer raided Hermione's Elf Welfare office for all the files and documents, a warrant still left pending for her flat, and all the while Hermione was arrested and held for questioning. Not that anything was found or able to be found. Not on Hermione's end, anyway! If it came from anywhere , she would like to say the slip-up came only from Skeeter's and Padma's own imagination and jealousy—but most definitely by their own illegal means, because, honestly, how else?

Did they take Hermione as a fool to leave anything out in the open or behind in her office? Did they think the Parkinson Family would just abandon Pansy Parkinson like that even after tricking her own father? Did Padma think that she could get Hermione to just hand over her own rights and just drink the veritaserum mixed in her tea? Hermione can even make an accurate guess on who Padma even got that idea from! Did the MLE think they could easily imprison Hermione Granger for it? 

No, she was out in a matter of minutes with the Parkinson's family brandishing a muggle marriage certificate in the MLE's face, something she only got with Pansy when Hermione's PR agency heard the scuttling legs of a beetle ready to take flight and was afraid that the bribery allegations would be her downfall in all of this. All of that had still taken place before the Daily Prophet ever actually hit everyone's breakfast table with Rita's article. 

With the marriage between Pansy and herself revealed, Hermione could no longer be charged and framed by Padma for 'bribery', as it could only be seen as money shared between a married couple and Padma can't prove it was ever used for any sinister means, not when Hermione could then, by the loophole, be able to put her own personal funds that she acquired legally (through marriage) back into her own office that had been built from the ground up by her own means since the beginning. And, while the case was still left open for the embezzlement allegations with the Ministry of Magic, the Parkinson Family wouldn't let Padma easily charge Hermione for that yet either. 

The MLE officer needed some sort of solid evidence for that to actually happen, besides just going off the word of a journalist and a measly source from Godric knows where, and not even he probably knew exactly where. 

Honestly, it had gotten way out of hand with what Rita Skeeter even wrote in the 'Daily Garbage'. 

A spokesperson for the Parkinson Family had been the one to take on the press's questions for Hermione when she had been leaving the Ministry of Magic together with Igor Parkinson that early dawn with cameras flashing in her tired eyes. 

Guilty or not, the Parkinson Family, in the attempt to protect their own heiress, took priority on the fabricated story of the two witches, acknowledged the muggle marriage, went out of there way to make it wizarding official and even put an enchanted ring on their ' Madam ' Granger to make sure nobody could come forward and question their relationship further. 

Hermione still isn't entirely sure what was going on in Mr. Parkinson's head that day, but he didn't join in with Rita and Padma to annihilate her entire career. The wizard covered all the holes that he could for his only daughter who was somehow convinced to cuff herself to Hermione Granger in matrimony; muggle-style. 

She had questioned Pansy in private about her in-laws' reaction to the scandal, but the witch reassured any worries that Hermione had by saying no one in her family could snitch, not unless they wanted to experience the wrath of Pansy's grandfather who had a soft heart for his only granddaughter. 

With the Parkinson Family involved not even Hermione knew the whereabouts of the original budget form that Pansy had forged and stamped. Instead, there was now a copy left in its place with a signature and stamp that Padma could only magically trace directly back to Mr. Parkinson with nothing else that could prove or disprove in court that Hermione was embezzling funds.

While Hermione's case could shed light on the underbelly of how politics worked to the public if Padma placed any connection of corruption back onto the Head of Finance for just being Hermione's father-in-law, no one , not even Padma's MLE actually wants to actually poke that hornet's nest, not unless people want to start losing their jobs, because everyone ( at least to a certain extent ) uses their connections for such purposes to get ahead at the ministry; family or friend. 

No, the Ministry won't do away with it and Hermione was not going to be sentenced to Azkaban for up to 2 years for something she didn't even do in the first place. 

It might not be ethical or authentic to one's own success, it was especially not fair when you're up against a nepo-baby stealing your promotion, but that's just sadly how Hermione learned how some things got done at the Ministry of Magic. Not to mention that the wizarding community had a history of tangled up family trees to begin with which would definitely muck up such a law if one were in place to prevent that. 

The hired spokesperson for the Parkinson Family had again spoken over the wireless live for the public that following hour, but while in person, cameras continued to flash in front of the wizard's stoic face while he stood in front of the Parkinson Ancestral Manor, "There is nothing illegal going on here with our Madam Granger—unless it's a crime to be a loving and sharing wife? Mrs. Granger just wanted to transfer gold from her maiden vault to her own wife's vault—it is perfectly legal and goblin approved and at no point were taxes not being paid! Yes, Madam Granger did recommend her own wife to be Miss October—something that happened almost two years prior, but that has nothing to do with what Madam Granger is being accused of today! Don't get this twisted! We assure you that when the MLE investigates, they'll find nothing criminal involving Madam Granger or the Parkinson Family—but, trust me, the one that is truly at fault for such lies, slander, and for illegally obtaining the Parkinson and Granger finances, will be found and the House of Parkinson will not let you go!"

Since the scandal broke out this has been the longest amount of time that either witch have spent together, at least not since the night Hermione was standing out of place in a club confronting the heiress with her own accord and an offered drink. 

The two now live in the same home, had breakfast together, went to every function under the sun for each other, and even took a two weeks vacation to Portugal in hopes the accusations would die down. Pansy stayed by Hermione's side like a faithful wife during this entire 'misunderstanding'.

Thankfully, having the same public relations agency meant that the women could be more prepared to play along and keep track of any holes in their own story. Once this all rolls over, the two could divorce. It's not like the two had a lover to speak of to worry about anyway, but the two didn't have any romantic interest in each other either, even when they're both interested in women.

They were only benefiting from the marriage as an alibi to keep themselves out of legal trouble, and Hermione still had the embezzlement accusations to deal with.

Many of those same journalists that reported on her corruption were here at the wedding, peeking over at her table, but of course, they were delusional if they thought Hermione was going to invite them over this way. The Quibbler, after branching out from their fables and quirky characters, was now a big competitor to even the likes of the Daily Prophet, so no one from that garbage paper would ever be invited to a Lovegood wedding, and thank Merlin she didn't have to deal with them either, because those guys would be the most shameless with inviting themselves over to her table. Despite Harry having openly dismissed it entirely as paid propaganda since the war, the Daily Prophet was still a beloved news icon. 

This was thankfully considered a private wedding, and all were told to keep their quills, cameras and professions at work, but Hermione knows that by tomorrow morning the papers will have an entire article on the most notable wedding since Harry Potter married Ginny Weasley back in 2004, mostly just for all the prominent and famous guests (her being one of them), but even more so for the public's curiosity about a Lovegood marrying a Nott. 

There were many raised eyebrows when it had been first announced in the Quibbler of Luna Lovegood's marriage, the eyebrows might not have slid right off their faces like when they heard about Hermione Granger's scandal and marriage, but it got pretty high up there, even she had raised an eyebrow! Part of her secretly wondered what secret Theodore and Luna had together— but then Hermione told herself not to put her own guilty conscience onto others' relationships.

Theodore Nott. Everyone just calls him Theo. No longer stuck to their old boarding school habits of addressing one another by surname. Hermione easily remembered him being a tag-along to Draco's little gang. Theo was standoffish, logical and had been a quiet boy back when they were kids. The complete opposite to dreamy and quirky Luna Lovegood. 

Theo was the son of a Death Eater—not just any Death Eater either, but his father had been part of Tom Riddle's little gang back when he attended school and that was when they had only just started calling themselves the Knights of Walpurgis. 

Most of Draco's little gang had actually survived the war, and weren't all shipped off to Azkaban, but their parents on the other hand didn't get the same treatment. Nott Sr. was rotting in Azkaban along with Lucius Malfoy and just like the many other Death Eaters that were rounded up by Aurors and given their own life sentences. 

Hermione isn't sure how Draco's little gang are still on good terms with one another though, and she should use 'good' loosely, as she's never seen any of them actually being chummy with one another, only constantly ever rubbing each other the wrong way with their slights and opinions—Hermione was told by Pansy when she commented on it that that's their love for one another, and it's just the way they were, but Hermione still disagrees. It's really just a friendship being held together with only spell-o-tape, just like Ron's broken wand second year. 

Still, Draco Malfoy was Theo's best man, and the groomsmen were Blaise Zabini, Vincent Goyle, and Pike—Hermione can't remember what Pike's first name was, but according to Pansy, Pike was just another tag-along, so not anyone Hermione needed to actually count or take note of— Pansy certainly didn't count Pike or Goyle as her own friends anyway. 

The wedding vows have already been shared and the couple were even bound by magic, but it still didn't explain to Hermione how Luna had been dating Theo for the past three years. To her, the timeline seems pretty far-fetched given this was news to even Ginny. But, again, Hermione can't go inspecting other people's cauldrons because her own cauldron was actually the leaky one. 

Just a few months after the war, Hermione had known Luna was spending most of her time with Neville, and she had even thought the two would wind up married like Ginny and Harry. But, she had been mistaken and far behind with her opinion, because just last year Neville Longbottom married Hannah Abbott. 

Neville had told Hermione once when she had asked why, "Back then we only had each other to heal, but as soon as those wounds healed…we had nothing left to give. We knew our feelings for each other only came from a broken and desperate place, so we moved on—in order to truly move on and there were no hard feelings."

Hermione had nodded along to his wise words at the time with a mead in hand, pretending like she had understood Neville— healing was the last thing Hermione could understand . She too had broken up with Ron after the war. She learned that her feelings for him had only been tied to nostalgia. Not to mention her nightmares and sleepless nights weren't good for Ron to witness and their constant bickering of differences had become the final straw for Hermione, but she never did heal from their separation— did others really heal after the war or did they just find a vice to cope with all that happened?

A whole generation of children were forced to grow up just to fight in that war and learn what losing someone truly meant. Harry, Ron and Hermione were no different and they had only found a bad habit each to cope with it all. Harry was the only one that had made steps so far to get better by the time James was born. Maybe others like Harry actually took the courage to ask for help, but Hermione and Ron were not there yet—Well, no, Hermione did try , but she didn't commit, her need for dreamless nights was the only salvation she could find, but her growing immunity to the potion was making her nights difficult again without raising the dosage. 

Hermione had been envious to hear that Neville was able to pick up the pieces of himself and be able to mend himself back together— at least, so he says. Hermione doesn't even know if Luna ever actually healed either, but apparently Hermione didn't know alot about Luna to begin with. 

She took another sip of her White Russian— Moggie Boggart, whatever. 

Her own attitude wasn't that she was really upset by Luna not telling them about Theo either— it got her own name off the headlines when it was announced, so what was she to complain about? No, she wasn't complaining, just wishing she was anywhere else but here with all the eyeballs on her, much like Ron. 

The venue was well decorated for a wedding. The Lovegoods were well-known as the oddest bunch around so Hermione had been expecting some sort of oddity or a possibly offensive prop that would end up causing a fight to break out with flying curses or a fist-fight, but by the look of things, Theo must have been the one to plan the entire wedding, as it was extremely normal by most typical weddings. Though Hermione would not rule out a fight, as someone's own Aunt Muriel hadn't gotten drunk enough to cause a scene yet. 

Hermione's eyes cast over to find Xenophilius Lovegood showing off his quirky dance moves after drowning himself in a bit of sherry. The man swirled about on the dance floor with his arms spread out, much like a muggle child pretending to be an airplane. For all she knows it could be a custom in some part of the world, but when catching Harry's eye, she knows she wasn't alone with the comparison. 

Both burst out with laughter, unable to keep in their own maturity with the sight of the man. The two gingers at the table gave them curious looks, but the two just kept it to themselves. 

Harry nudged his wooden framed glasses on his nose, and to calm his laughter, he took a sip of his lemon ball drop—the menu had called it a 'Catch the Snitch' . Hermione was certain it was a mock tail. 

The dark wooden frames that Harry wore now made the man look more gentle and refined, his current dark emerald suit with no-tie and the unusually tamed hair might have helped with that. He was no longer that kid with the broken glasses and his cousin Dudley's baggy clothes. The shadow of his former self could only be found with the lightning scar on his forehead and the many stories during the war about him. But, to say that the weight of the war just lifted off Harry's shoulders when it ended would be wrong to say. He still has a hard time even now at almost twenty-seven come this late July. 

When her best friends learned of the scandal and what Hermione did, she asked them to go along with her. Harry and Ron both owed her since the war for what she's done for them, it was the least they could do to help get reporters off her back. With Ron's many scandals that Hermione stood by him for he could only grit his teeth when he found out about Pansy Parkinson. 

That didn't mean Ron and Pansy could stand being in the same room with each other without throwing insults back and forth like they were still a bunch of school children. One would think the two could find at least something to get along with, but the only one thing they had in common was both having been raised in the Wizarding world and that meant very little to everyone involved. 

Harry was more understanding about the situation, especially after learning Hermione's true purpose of wanting to help the elves, and when he had been confronted by a reporter asking if he felt shocked or betrayed by his best friend secretly being married to the one that once offered him up to Voldemort, he told them, " You're the reason why Hermione didn't speak of her affairs—always asking questions like that to get a headline out of me. You can refer to my past interviews where I forgave those like Pansy. You like to question my best friend's character then what of the person that has always been a well-known liar—You want to know what I mean by that? Rita Skeeter should know."

He had given a very exclusive interview to Lavender Brown all the way back in 2004 where he talked about his reasoning in pardoning Draco Malfoy, the many children that were forced to grow up, and the many others that felt they had no choice in the war when it came to the fear of their own loved ones dying to Tom Riddle. That very same forgiveness was applied to Pansy Parkinson knowing that she too had witnessed loss during that battle. 

A silver shoulderless dress sparkled underneath the enchanted lighting suddenly and it caught Hermione's eye. She turned in the direction of it to see the owner. Inky black hair decorated with sparkly diamonds and a silver laurel to match with the dress. The colorful fairy lights paint over the animated and lively smile. Starry green eyes were caught in the same light. The stars were really just flecks of gold in Pansy's green that Hermione couldn't actually see from where she was sitting. The witch's legs are exposed while twirling about with friends on the dance floor, and the bubbling laughter falls into Hermione's own ears that want to twitch to the carrying noise.

Every move of Pansy was eye-catching, and Hermione knew she was not the only one at the venue to stare at the pretty model that had taken the wizarding world's heart by just a wink and smile as 'Miss. October' almost two years ago.

Twelve year old Hermione Granger would never admit to Pansy Parkinson being anything but a cow (for her attitude), but the almost twenty-eight year old Hermione Granger was far more honest with herself and had to disagree with her immature statement—Pansy was beautiful; after all, attraction has nothing to do with love. Though Hermione was not naive enough to admit that vocally to Pansy either, the witch would only laugh and tell Hermione to stop humoring her. Pansy once even told Hermione, " I know your type well, and it won't ever be me."

Hermione's Gryffindor courage was gone with the wind by the time she wanted to ask if she was Pansy's type. 

Surprisingly, there were just as many positive opinions when the news broke out, work-friends and acquaintances who didn't believe in the scandal were coming up to praise Hermione and congratulating her on her 'beautiful catch', though that was a very odd compliment for Hermione. Pansy wasn't an object. But, they were clearly shocked on how Hermione could have possibly been able to marry Pansy Parkinson in the first place when saying such a compliment, which felt even more insulting for herself, so maybe it wasn't all that positive. 

Ron's voice causes Hermione to remove her eyes from Pansy's dancing and back to him. 

"Alright, well, where's the bloody cake already so we can get this over with?" Ron was craning his neck to see over the filled tables and standing groups that were in conversation. "Waited long enough."

Ginny's eyes might just roll out of her head because of her brother. She reaches for her orange juice that was poured into a flute glass and heavily drinks it. Hermione is pretty sure it's non-alcoholic and is just straight up orange juice, but Ginny probably wishes it was at least a mimosa right about now with having to sit beside her own brother. 

"Should be starting now…" Harry answers as he notices the bride and groom coming back from taking professional photos. He turns around in his own seat to get a better view of the cake cutting that was about to commence. 

Hermione follows his line of sight to the newly wedded. Luna is beautiful in her baby blue wedding gown, her cheeks blushing and blonde hair pulled up high. Theo looks just as dashing in his own pale blue suit and bowtie, a sweet smile is visible on his face as Luna and himself are congratulated again when reentering the venue. Hermione's never seen the wizard wear such a smile before as he sticks to Luna's side and makes their way to the cake. It looks oddly natural.

The couple stood beside a seven tier white cake. A blue scaled dragon that was made up of what must have been fondant and enchantments was coiled around the mid layer, but soon Hermione watched it come to life; opening its jaws wide to softly torch the little créme brûleés that were moated below. Then the dragon returned to its solid and fondant form again. 

Atop the cake, if Hermione could squint from her seat that was a little further back in the venue, were enchanted figurines. They were miniature versions of Luna and Theo dancing to the flow of a silent classical waltz. 

When having first walked into the venue after the outdoor ceremony, Pansy at Hermione's side had called the toppers adorable, and now with Luna and Theo standing beside their own miniatures ready to cut the cake together, she could see that the entire thing was magical, even to the smallest enchantments. She hopes to remember to ask later who the baker was. 

A glimpse of a silver dress reappears and the now familiar perfume of blackberries and jasmine brushed against her side. She shifts her attention away from the cake and to Pansy who had just returned from the dance floor. Her face flushed a light pink, and her green eyes starry with pearly white eyeshadow just up above; the witch's glamour charms still held up her make-up while dancing. 

The cake cutting finally began, causing several of the people to return to their tables like Pansy had. Some whistle and holler with drinks in hand as the couple were seen feeding each other. The photographer looks back to the seats and crowd to snap a picture of the celebrities and prominent friends that Luna and Theo were both acquainted with, but mostly Theo. The quiet man surprisingly had several friends in the entertainment industry from his friendship with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. What he did with those connections in the industry Hermione hadn't a clue. 

Hermione had to look away from the dazzling sight of the flash. She wondered, with the amount of pictures being taken of them right now and not of the protagonists of the wedding, if the photographer had a side gig where he sold his pictures to the media or if he was just true to his profession of needing to get every perfect shot of the Nott-Lovegood wedding. The photographer could make a fortune on just one picture alone if the shot wasn't too terrible for the Prophet. 

Pansy's hand hovers over Hermione's White Russian, then pries Hermione's only free hand away from the cold short glass to be held by her. Hermione looks to Pansy's hand equally fitting into her own. The manicure had a pearly polish. She didn't fight with the witch's act of affection, but instead stared at their hand holding. It gave Hermione a curious thought of wondering if Pansy's nails gives it all away that their relationship was only fabricated...

"Aww," Pansy's sickly sweet voice announces her returned presence to the others at the table, "Theo looks so happy—though powder blue just isn't the poor man's color, is it?" She starts to shake her head as if it was pitiful to watch now and tilts her head to see Hermione's reaction to her rhetorical question. 

As if she hadn't just been staring at their held hands, she looks up at this powder blue suit for herself once again. 

Hermione by now was used to Pansy's predictable way of compliments, she'll say one thing positive, but will take it all back with a negative. The same happened to the adorable cake toppers. Pansy turned right around and complained about how the tablecloth was an atrocious fabric choice to put on a table—Hermione still can't see what the issue was with that. 

Hermione can't even see how powder blue was a risky color to even wear for Theo. She just hums along. 

At the sound of the pretty witch's return, Ron's impatience seems to transform into disgust. 

Harry peeks over his shoulder to direct his words to Pansy, "Both do look happy, don't they?" Her best friend is completely able to tune out Pansy's complaints. 

His knuckles tapped against his mocktail lemon drop with his eyes not fully on it, he feels for it with his hand, then curls his fingers around the glass to pick up the drink and bring it up close to his lips while continuing to stare off at the couple. 

Ginny smiles, "Yeah, I'm happy for Luna." Her hand lifts up to rub Harry's back. The sleeveless dress displays her freckled arms that were lean, but muscular; the proof of her training as a professional quidditch player. 

Luna is now seen passionately pressing her lips against Theo's and there was a wild display from the crowd whooping and whistling at the loving couple again. The only one not joining in was Ron. He shook his head at the other guests around him in disgust. 

"We already saw them kiss once, do we have to have another go of it?"

With one hand already held by Pansy, Hermione softly taps the back of Pansy's chair that her other arm was already wrapped around as a form of a clap to the newlyweds, and side-eyed Ron, "We all know you're not happy, Ron."

Pansy smirks, "I'm surprised, Weasley, that you didn't put on a good show for us and stop the wedding earlier," Here the two start , "Listening to you mope, one might think you're just jealous. I didn't even know you were into Lovegood—wait, or is it Theo you're into? Both? Oof," She pretends to pity the man, "Sad day for you all around, Weasley, Theo isn't a throuple kind of guy." 

Ron scoffs at her, leaning back into his chair to cross his arms looking rather offended, "I don't like Luna, nor am I into any blokes, Parkinson." His eyes cast over to Pansy holding Hermione's hand, and he directs his complaints to Hermione, "It's bad enough Luna married a Nott, but do you really have to go holding Parkinson's hand?"

Pansy looks ready to open her mouth to that, but kids are running just behind her, their screams and laughter mix together as they play with magical bubble wands, so she painstakingly holds back her tongue with Ron, but it's clear in her eyes on what she wanted to rudely say to the man. 

Hermione was just as sensitive to Ron's words, and she hisses under her breath to remind him, "We.Are. Happily. Married."

Ron finds the empty chair between himself and Hermione a good enough barrier to feel brave with what he says next, "Had to grit your teeth to say that?"

An electric magical current ignited in Hermione's curls, and by the sight of her fingers twitching to grab for her wand, Ron instinctively is quick to notice, his chair legs slide back another centimeter from the empty chair between them..

"Don't kill your best friend in public, Mione. It won't look good in the papers!"

"I'll do it in private then—"

"Hermione!" Harry scolds the woman that had committed enough crimes in private, but to keep things fair he turns on Ron to scold his next child, "Don't you ruin Luna's wedding, mate, you three sit and behave."

Ginny rolls her eyes, "Merlin, I thought we left the little tykes at home with mum."

The apparent third child, Pansy, has the audacity to be confused on why she was being counted, "What did I do?"

Ron mutters in hopes that Harry can't hear him, "What haven't you done?"

Pansy chides back by having overheard him, "I can thank Morgana I've never worn that cheap suit you got on."

Hermione knew the two were about to stir shit up again even with Harry having barely gotten them to stop, "Pansy…"  

What did you do? You keep going! How old are you?!

"Cheap?" Ron exploded, he lifted up his loose tie for everyone to take a good look at it, "Do you not know the cost of this suit?" Hermione bet that Pansy did if she could guess the fabric of it, "It's not 20 gold that's for sure, I rented this suit for 80 galleons—this right here is Acromantula silk, alright? I don't fuck with spiders, but this is the most expensive suit I've ever worn!"

Pansy is quick to lower the price on Ron's 'expensive' suit, "Hermione's costs far more than that low thread count you call a silk suit. Oh, and she gets to own it! Which, might I add, didn't I hear about how Potter got you a promotion in the games department—What are they paying you in, if you can't even own a proper suit, Weasley?"

At the mention of Hermione's own outfit that Pansy bought her, Hermione nervously glances down at the feminine blazer. What was this made of then? If Hermione had clumsily spilled her White Russian on herself at any point during this wedding the suit might be ruined. Not every fabric in the wizarding world could have the spell scourgify casted on them—especially when it came to enchanted tailoring or weaving in spells for cloaks and gowns. Just this morning she learned a very hard lesson and earned herself a headache to never again send any of Pansy's dresses to a muggle dry cleaners. 

Ron scowled at Pansy who was laughing at him, "You know Rita's a lying cow! Instead of running off to Portugal, you could have read the clarified statement in the next issue," His face is still burning red and he turns to Harry to confirm this clarification with a source, "I got that promotion all on my own. Isn't that right, Harry?"

One of the scandals that was able to squeeze in between Luna's wedding and Hermione's corruption was that Ron had used Harry's own name to get his new promotion at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. 

It hadn't been Ron's first time to actually use Harry's name and since it happened often enough, it would get buried under more scandalizing news. His most famous one was Ron trying to get a free meal at a restaurant or on the more than one occasion where Ron would get drunk at the pub, become rowdy to the other patrons, and then get thrown out onto the streets to where he'll then 'cry' about the unfair treatment of just being Harry's best friend. The amount of times Hermione and Harry had to wake up in the middle of the night to drag Ron away was just one too many for anyone to actually care about.

"Mhm," Harry takes a sip of his drink before speaking again, "Caught that kid red handed."

Ron was promoted for having solved a National Gobstone Championship fiasco that made headlines—

Well, it was at least written about in the ' Spit and Stone', a worldwide Gobstone magazine, but still, someone had poisoned the gobstone ink in order to take out a three-time national UK champion's eye, no one could even figure out how someone was able to get that close to the board in the first place, but with Ron's old Auror training from back in the earlier days, he easily caught the young culprit— probably because the kid's nails were coated in the stuff . It wasn't a dark wizard or anything, but it goes to show that even eight years olds take their game of Gobstones seriously.

With the promotion, Ron could say goodbye to Gobstones and make his way up to the local quidditch pitch as a lead security for similar sportsmanship crimes. Hermione doesn't know what else Ron does in that position, as she mostly just tunes her best friends out at just the mention of the word quidditch. 

Ron starts to nod with more confidence after Harry, "Yeah, that little shit kicked my shin in too when I confronted him—he won't be able to play in any future Gobstone tournaments either, we banned him for life! He even got grounded for a whole year!" 

Pansy wasn't impressed at all, her eyes rolled up at the ceiling where the enchanted lights floated about, "You're acting like you saved the Wizarding world on your own again …this time from an eight year old kid!"

Ginny had almost chosen the wrong time to take a sip of her orange juice, she sat the flute back down, and couldn't hide her laughter. Harry gave his wife a look, and Ginny had to mouth to him, 'What? She's right!'

Ron huffs a response back, "Yeah, and what have you been doing?" He then sarcastically adds more to attack Pansy, "Oh yeah, showing your arse off in a few gentlemen magazines is saving the world, I bet! A real heroine, you are!

Merlin, these two just never stop! Hermione's eyes twitched from the stress and she even cast a sharp glare toward what Ron had just said. 

His words cause Pansy to sit up straight in her chair. Blotches of pink touch her shoulders then contagiously the rest of her turned pink with Ron mentioning her past modeling shoots. Even the hand became hot and sweaty in Hermione's own, but Pansy yanked it out of her hold before there was even a possible chance of disgust for clammy hands. ( Hermione wasn't disgusted though as her hands would also get clammy when she was nervous too. )

From Hermione's understanding of the conservative Wizarding world, or at least of what she understood from Pansy's past work being told to her by Pansy, there was a real difference between a 'gentleman's magazine' and a straight up porn magazine, the latter having a lot more action and almost zero clothes—but it should not be confused with the muggles ' The Gentleman's Magazine'. So, Pansy's modeling in a 'gentleman's magazine' would likely have had her covered up and most of it left to the imagination with all of it being about 'beauty' and 'art'. Pansy was still upset and embarrassed with Ron for having brought up the earliest parts of her career though. 

Pansy tries to pretend she wasn't ashamed of those 'gentlemen magazines' though by putting  up a front, "Well, my ass is something special, Weasley, it's worth and insured for 300,000 galleons—everyone should be blessed that I even showed it off, and just you mentioning such an obscure thing about me shows you've definitely taken a peek at it—" Her tone changes to a fake obliviousness for the man, "Oh, but, I'm sure it was just really for the articles with you."

Ron's entire face burns now too and he chokes a response out, but it's unintelligible for anyone at the table to hear. He definitely walked straight into that one. 

Ginny turns to her own husband with her nose scrunched up, she was still stuck on the 300,000 galleons and not really on her brother's reaction, "People can just get their arse insured or is that just a Pansy-thing?"

Harry was uncomfortable with having to answer,  "Er–I-I think when she's talking of her… ass. She means her whole-self—she's talking about life insurance, luv."  

He's not confident on that, and neither is Hermione able to back him up on that. Pansy Parkinson might actually just have only her butt insured for 300,000 galleons . The Parkinson family weren't stuffy with tradition even for being part of the Sacred 28, compared to the Malfoy Family the Parkinson Family were actually considered 'nouveau riche' with her grandfather's kitchenware and crockery business and Pansy was their little kitchenware princess that could get away with anything, including crimes. 

Hermione's finger slides up the bridge of her nose toward the middle of her brow to smooth out the wrinkles. She's not sure why Ron had to go straight to the subject of Pansy's butt to start with.

Ron was finally able to recover some, though his hand was still covering a large part of his freckled face to hide the patches of red that had yet to disappear, "You're delusional, Parkinson, just as narcissistic as Lockhart himself—who in the world wants you?"

Pansy bites back, and lifts her left hand to show off her dazzling six carat diamond wedding ring that Hermione did not buy nor does she remember ever picking out for the other witch, "Considering I'm the one with the wife and you having only came here with your right hand as your plus one answers enough of whose wanted here."

Ron knew he had to be very careful with his next words as he lowered his head and hisses across the table at Pansy's fake pride in that, "Hermione doesn't count and you know that very well, you snake!"

Most of the guests' attention were on the newly married couple, so hopefully none of them were looking back to see what it was like for Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson to be assigned to the same table. 

The cake slices begin going onto trays and are being catered to the guests by house-elves in little bow-ties. Hermione knows that these specific free-elves were paid and hired to work for a local catering business in London. She isn't exactly sure of what the working environment is exactly like for the elves, but with her work suspension Hermione hasn't been allowed to do any of her own investigating or be able to assign anything to her subordinates or assistant to find that out for her. 

When Pansy was about ready to open her mouth again, Hermione this time hoped to distract her dear wife by nudging her to look at the several different slices of cakes that were heading this way with a few spare créme brûleés. 

"What cake do you want, Park—" She almost slipped up, "love?" To everyone who heard the 'endearment' there wasn't any affection to be found in Hermione's tone when saying it. Hermione doesn't even think it sounds right when repeating it in her head. She's just copying what Harry said to Ginny, but when it comes out of her own mouth she just sounds like the shopkeeper who greets her when she comes in to grab a bag of crisps at the shops. 

Her smile probably looks super off too. 

There were a list of endearing nicknames that Hermione had tried in conversation before with others around, and while using 'baby' was the most torturous for her, she had found that 'love'  had to be the most emotionless one she ever tried. 

Regardless of that, Ron gags at Hermione's attempt, but she only ignores him trying her best to continue pretending to be a loving and pampering wife towards Pansy. 

The pretty witch takes the bait of Hermione's words regardless of how it came across, and actually follows her line of sight to the plates of cake that actually had an assortment of flavors that wasn't just chocolate and vanilla, but also slices of carrot and red velvet among the crème brûlées. 

Pansy turns back to Hermione with her choice, "Oh, then let's share a créme brûlée, 'Mione." Pansy's tone was more affectionate with just safely shortening her first name and placing a hand onto her wife's shoulder when she spoke. The witch was easily able to immerse herself into the romantic play compared to Hermione's own awkwardness.

And this marriage was my idea…

As the créme brûleés sits in front of them now, Pansy breaks the torched surface with a spoon and holds the filling up to Hermione's mouth to take a bite. 

While Harry, Ginny and Ron are still picking out of the selection themselves, Pansy urges Hermione to eat, "'Mione, take the first bite~"  The tail end of her tone rises flirtatiously.

Hermione stares blankly at the spoon. Her brown eyes then slowly trail away from the custard to the thin silver charm bracelet on the wrist, up the forearm, and then straight into the face of the pretty witch that just enticed her to take the bite. 

There was a gentle look in Pansy's starry green eyes, but Hermione wonders if the witch's hidden thoughts were actually: 'If you don't open your mouth, Granger, I will shove this spoon into your face anyways, and you can blame yourself for the mess it causes!'

Hermione doesn't want that to happen after hearing about her suit being more expensive than Ron's. She leans forward to take the spoon into her mouth and tastes the smooth and rich texture of the sweet custard-like dessert. Pansy eventually pulls the spoon back out of Hermione's mouth, leaving just a touch of it left upon her lips.

She didn't know if Pansy would actually share that same exact spoon with her after just feeding her with it. Pansy was considered a celebrity as well, so Hermione guessed that Pansy just wanted to maintain her own image in front of the camera; leaving Hermione to look like the only fool with custard on her face instead. 

Hermione soon gets her answer though. She watches as the other woman takes that same spoon with her germs all over it and scoops up another bite for herself this time. 

With the next spoonful of the crème brûlée, Pansy leans forward to not let it just drip and her manicure slowly tucks a strand of loose hair behind her delicate ear so as to not let it fall into the dessert either. A sneaky pink tongue darts out to catch the cream that had been left on Pansy's own lips. All these little actions just to take the second bite for herself, but it makes Hermione catch her breath. Her hot fingertips trace over the wet condensation of her own White Russian glass to cool the thoughts she had. 

It was one thing to pretend with Pansy, but it was another to actually be seduced by this pretty vixen. Just when Hermione shakes off the spell that was cast on her, a napkin comes into view and Pansy wipes the leftover custard on Hermione's own mouth this time. 

"Just a bit left here." Pansy softly explains after the napkin moves away. The starry green eyes that hold her own stare to Hermione's mouth goes completely unnoticed by Hermione. 

Ron starts to whine, his fork only hovering over his carrot cake now, "Oi! I'm trying to eat here in peace without having to throw up at the sight of you two!"

Hermione sharply kicks him from under the table with a cold expression at his outburst. It hit hard enough against bone that Ron winces and jolts back. His arm slips away under the table to rub the pain out of his shin. 

"Shit, 'Mione," He curses and starts to complain, "That's worse than the kick that eight year old kid gave me!"

Hermione doesn't have any time to reply back, because she spots a guest actually starting to head over to their table. She doesn't recognize the woman and hopes that by avoiding eye contact the woman will get the hint and keep walking. She doesn't. The witch continues to head this way, just behind Ron, with her big toothy smile and even waves when someone else from the table accidentally makes eye contact with her. 

Pansy is able to identify the woman, "I think that looks like Catherine Almonds—that hostess from the 'Rise Early With Almonds'...that morning show on the wireless? My agent says she's a bit much when trying to push the truth out of celebrities who are left choking on their morning toast."

"What?" Ron becomes more alert when hearing that name, "Is she coming this way?" He doesn't turn around to check for himself. 

Harry answers this time, "Yup, and she looks eager to see you, mate."

Ron's face is ashen by what Harry says, he tries to make his long frame smaller by closing his shoulders inward, but it somehow only makes his shoulders more bulkier. 

Ginny's voice is lower, "Yeah, and is that a dress one should be wearing to a wedding?"

Hermione looks over again for a second time to try and understand what Ginny was even talking about, because Catherine would be wearing a considerably conservative dress if it wasn't for the window view to her cleavage, and that couldn't have been what Ginny was pointing out. Pansy was revealing far more skin anyways in her own dress and nobody really cared. It had to be because Catherine's dress was entirely black, a color that was more appropriate to attend a funeral and not usually a wedding.

Harry bumps his wife's shoulder to tease her, "Sounding like your mum again, Gin."

"Hush!" Ginny smacks her husband lightly away from her shoulder. "I do not—I'm just asking!"

He only laughs. 

Pansy shrugs like she has seen worse outfit decisions, "My grams wore black for five years straight after the passing of my maternal grandfather—including weddings. Someone probably died."

Hermione doubts that here, "No, I don't think anyone died." The woman looks far too peppy for a death in the family, "She just wants to wear it." No idea why , but for Hermione she didn't really care—it's not her wedding. 

There were dress robes in the same color as Luna's blue wedding dress and Hermione has already seen a few men in old traditional black dress robes. What was the difference between Catherine wearing a black dress? Blaise Zabini, one of the groomsmen, wasn't even wearing the matching color suits as the rest of Theo's groomsmen and he wasn't kicked out or asked to change from what Hermione could see. Even Pansy almost wore a bright red dress and Hermione was certain in some cultures that was a no-go to wear at weddings for a number of reasons. Some red dresses had a meaning of being scandalous, and in China the color red belonged to the bride to wear, unlike in the Western parts of the world where it was traditionally white. So, it clearly wasn't a big deal at all on what color you had on at the Nott-Lovegood wedding. One could wear whatever color and design they wanted!

The witch in question was still heading this way. Catherine is older than them, but she hides her age well enough. The Wizarding world all seems to visually age much slower than that of muggles, though the stress in life might be a challenger to that statement. Catherine's ash brown bangs are pushed back into some sort of bump atop her head to reveal her whole forehead.

Ron mumbles mostly to himself, "What is she even doing here?" A freckled hand tugs at his own collar nervously. His blue eyes look everywhere, but to the back of him. 

The four at the table look away from Catherine and back to Ron with suspicion. He starts to slouch in his chair with a different tactic, and Hermione thinks he might just slide right out of the chair and hide himself under the table, but Catherine is only a few steps away from navigating the already crowded seating and there was no way anyone could just miss his vibrant shade of hair at this point. 

Ginny asks Ron what's wrong with him. He tells Ginny and every other curious face at the table that there was nothing wrong, but clearly by his own actions there was something going on. Hermione felt a churn in her stomach with the idea that this was most likely a one night stand of his that didn't consider herself as one. 

It was too late for Ron to escape the wedding now. Catherine's arms suddenly hang around his neck as a hug, and his ashen face burns bright as his own hair now when she begins to flirtatiously nibble a bit at his ear while greeting him. "Ronnie~why didn't you tell me that you'd be at my little cousin's wedding?" Her hand slides down the front of his chest and playfully takes his tie in her hands. 

Pansy doesn't look too pleased at having to see this right in front of their créme brûlée.

Ron has a wry smile on his face, one of his nervous chuckles slips out from it, and he spins around in the woman's arms so he can face her properly, "Cathy, hey…what are the chances of this, who's your cousin?" 

Hermione feels much like Pansy and picks up her White Russian to have an excuse to not look at Catherine's exaggerated public display of affection—Ron had been complaining about herself and Pansy, but at no point would they ever think to go so far with one another. 

The cloud of the woman's heavy rose perfume was almost choking Hermione too, and she prays to any saint or sorcerer that this woman doesn't sit down in the chair between Ron and herself. She didn't believe in life after death—a heaven of sorts , is what she meant, as imprints of a witch or wizard were known to just stick around in the wizarding world— but if one on the other side was bound to hear her...Hermione might go on a spiritual journey to actually heal herself. 

Nope, none heard her! Catherine places her butt right down into the empty chair with her cloud of perfume attached to her, and Hermione has to scooch her chair politely more toward Pansy who didn't dunk herself in perfume like this woman did, at least not a smell that Hermione didn't like. A hand comes up on her back to indicate that Hermione could move no farther than where she currently was. 

Catherine answers Ron, "Theo—from his late mother's side. Not that bastard father he has." The witch made sure to tell the table she was not from the Death Eater side of the family. "Well, I think he's a third cousin, but anyway."

"Wow!" Ron sounds extremely fake. 

Catherine ignored it, her attention was now toward the rest of the table. Her true purpose was clear as day, the wireless hostess was likely already thinking of ways on how to get them on her show. Their fame and their very own scandals that were currently ongoing could easily bring her in a lot of new listeners, "Wow, indeed. This is quite the table.The Golden Trio here all at once for my little cousin's wedding—what side of the family are you guys?"

Hermione cringes at having to hear 'The Golden Trio'. Can't people just leave that in print and never say it out loud?

Ron answers. "Friends with Luna." 

Pansy adds for herself, "...and Theo."

Harry grows uncomfortable by the woman's greedy eyes—he never really liked any of Ron's lovers after Hermione, not that he preferred his best friends together, but because Ron made some questionable choices with the witches who only seem to want fame and not actually Ron's love. 

Ron would always be introducing them to a witch that had a career in journalism or hosting a wireless show of some kind. Most of Ron's exes were the sort of women who would try and write about the trio. There was a high demand from the populace in revealing the trio's private lives; the good and the ugly of it. And every time Ron seems to learn too late that the women never actually like him, even if those women do mean well in liking him—that's the hero worship, they only love the idea of what the trio might be like and what their life was like after the war.

"Ronnie, aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?" Catherine already knew who they all were, she just wanted to find a way into this circle and Ron was her way in. 

"Uh, yeah…well, guys this is Cathy and—well," He spread his hand out to make a gesture to introduce them all at once, "You know who everyone here is, I'm sure."

By the glint in her eye, that she did know. Catherine greets Harry first, "Pleasure to finally meet you in person, Harry! You've been out of the limelight all summer compared to your friends, working on a gritty and top case, I reckon, right?"

"Er, nice to meet you." 

Catherine goes to the professional quidditch player next,"And, Ginny, I'm a big fan of the Harpies—heard you were thinking of retiring? That can't possibly be true, is it?"

Ginny refused to answer that question. 

With the pattern of the woman's speech, Hermione was suspicious of there being a magical recording device on the woman's person, but the wand was put away and with her own intuition on magic over the years, Hermione couldn't sense any spells that were cast on the woman besides a glamour charm or two. It might just be a habit for Catherine to interview anyone she's currently talking to. Thinking it was her turn next to finally speak Hermione put down her White Russian.

The woman then lands her eyes on Pansy and Hermione with great interest, "And, Mrs. Granger," Catherine goes into complimenting the dress that Pansy was wearing, even making a guess at who the designer was. Hermione isn't sure what face Pansy was making right now, maybe there was a smile, but her wife certainly didn't say anything. It was also a bit weird that Pansy was greeted by her married name while Ginny and Harry were on a first name basis with the woman, but Hermione can only guess for now it was an 'elite' thing that she had yet to get used to when marrying a kitchenware princess. 

Leaning forward, Catherine focuses all her attention onto Hermione now, "And, Madam Granger, I've just been waiting for the announcement on your third book—research on lost ancestral runes—that's what I last heard on it? Despite the investigation, I do hope you can still relax and get to finishing that up."

When the witch leaned in, the cloud of perfume carried with Catherine, and it caused Hermione to choke on the roses again. She fought back the coughing fit that tried to escape her throat, but it was a struggle in doing so. She doesn't know how Ron isn't coughing up a lung when Catherine is hanging all over him like that. Hermione was already backed up to Pansy enough. The hand that had been laying flat to the middle of her back was suddenly removed. 

A drink comes out of the corner of her eye, Hermione instantly takes the glass as a life saving straw and not caring what was in it. She drinks Pansy's champagne flute—it had certainly long gone flat from when Pansy had left it at their table to dance, but it was better than choking on Catherine's perfume. 

She covers her mouth with the back of her hand then to wipe away any spilled champagne and with her eyes a little wet, Hermione swivels to her wife with a strained and muffled thanks. 

Pansy doesn't react much besides picking up her spoon again and nodding. Hermione turns back to Catherine to just give a curt nod herself without much of an answer about any upcoming book. 

Ginny now began to voice her curiosity about how exactly Catherine knew Ron. 

Wasn't it obvious—it's not the first time this sort of thing has happened with Ron and of the women he's slept with. By this point, Ginny should know her own brother's type. 

The older witch places her weight back toward Ron's side and holds him, "Oh, we just met over the weekend—I like to think we got pretty close." She winks playfully at Ron, "Close enough that I know the details of his downstairs friend."

Hermione was right from the start that Ron had a fling with this woman.

Harry had actually been mid-drink until it soon spurted out of his mouth listening to this woman. Ginny used her own wand to help clean up when watching her husband try to reach for one of the napkins in the center of the table as the lemon mocktail dripped a bit on his chin.

Ron's face was more pink than red now and whispers for the woman to watch her words around his friends and sister. 

Pansy didn't need the woman to finish any further either, "No need to traumatize the rest of us further." She then gritted her teeth in disgust, her hand squeezed the spoon tightly and caused her knuckles to be a ghostly white "And, I especially don't want to hear it while we're eating!" The witch didn't look as if she actually wanted to touch the créme brûleé anymore though. 

Catherine just chuckles at Pansy's reaction the most, "Oh, come on, we're all adults, Mrs. Granger. I'm sure your fake wife already knows the same amount as I do about his—"

If one could stab with a spoon, Pansy probably wanted to stab Catherine right then, but instead she only stabbed the spoon straight into the custard to quietly show her frustration at the other witch's shameless words and even calling Hermione her fake wife. 

Hermione just coldly cuts the woman off before she could go any further with disregarding Pansy's boundaries on the subject matter, "No, that's extremely inappropriate. And, I ask that you mind your words when you speak to my wife." 

Either this woman had no self-awareness or she knew exactly what she was doing in riling them up. Hermione can't understand how this annoying woman could have her own wireless show without getting slapped mid-interview— it can't have been a popular show unless that was what all the listeners were waiting for!

Ginny and Harry suck in their breaths. Their eyes quickly darted from Hermione to Catherine, anticipating a fight between the two witches, but Ron looked the most sick knowing that the woman just hit a nerve in Hermione—not even he was allowed to just casually out Hermione's loveless marriage like that.

He raises his hand cautiously to Catherine's back, wanting to get her attention to not provoke his best friend. The hostess was known to push buttons, but Hermione's buttons should not be pushed! 

"Hey, Cathy, how about we don't do that?" To spare both their lives from a very sensitive Hermione Granger. 

With hands raised now, it looks as if Catherine is going to surrender to Hermione on the first warning, but when her gravelly laughter starts to fall out, so did words that Hermione didn't like, "Your wife? Come on, you can put down the act with me around—I know how this all goes, but, truthfully, no one is falling for it. We'd all have believed your lie of having not accepted bribes or embezzling funds more than the lie that the two of you ever married out of love."

Hermione's fingers twitched, but she held back on getting her wand out just yet. 

Who did this Rita Skeeter think she was? Did she not know that not even Rita herself is brave enough to face Hermione head on like this? The old beetle has to fight Hermione Granger through her quill rather than a wand, because she knows she'd lose the duel otherwise. 

"And, what are you trying to imply by that?" Hermione pretends to be dumb, wanting to know if this woman was dumb herself to continue with trying to expose and provoke her. Since the war, Hermione wasn't just known as the brightest witch, she had a nasty temper just like Ron and Harry when provoked. 

Catherine was so used to irritating celebrities out of entertainment on her show that her radar for danger must be broken, because everyone else at the table was counting this as the woman's last day, "Seriously? Every journalist who's been doing this since the war knows Rita has you down this time, Hermione. You've not once been able to shut her up yet, not even with the Parkinson Family threatening her with a lawsuit, and that's yall's deal right?" A smirk rises on the older woman's face when she sees Hermione's eyes squint back at her by mentioning that, "Yeah, everyone knows about it! Out of all the journalists, Rita Skeeter isn't allowed to write a single lie about the 'Golden Trio' unless she wants to be wiped out of the industry by you—" Catherine lightly shrugs her shoulders then and even included a tilt of her head while she explained, "Sure, she's toed the line a few times, but one warning letter from your agency, and old Rita will quickly cite the corrections, but not this time…that didn't happen. Did it?"

Catherine lowers her voice, and leans forward with her heavy perfume of roses again, "It isn't just Rita's actions that have given it away that the allegations are true. You're still suspended after two months. I even heard that a warrant to search your flat is still pending, not dropped, and Shacklebolt's hands are tied with being unable to help you. All of that means you're not innocent as you claim to be, Hermione. Not that I care about what you did, 'Go Elves!' , and all of that, right," Catherine makes a shaking gesture with her closed fist like she was cheering for the House-Elves as a sports team, "But…" Her same hand reopens and gestures between Hermione and Pansy as if it alone could explain without words, "This here…this is the biggest factor to prove that you committed a crime and the Parkinson Family are only helping you cover it up, because their little heiress got her hands into something she shouldn't have with you. Now of course…" She leans back with a Cheshire cat grin still growing on her face, "If you come on my show, I might be able to help get the public to fall in love with you two—"

Oh, this was trying to invite me onto her show? I thought Catherine wanted to be hexed for a second there… Hermione was being internally sarcastic. All shameless hosts seem to have the same methods when trying to invite a particular guest onto their show for views. There had to be a class on it—challenge the person's patience, then pull them into a trap of going onto their show to 'tell all' and if they don't agree to it, the journalist will use that answer as some sort of sign of guilt, but Catherine is trying to entrap the wrong witch here. 

Pansy is so annoyed by this woman now, and she can't keep quiet, "…to try and get us on your trash of a morning show…What do you even mean by," And she flays her own hand more exaggerated between herself and Hermione to mock what Catherine just did to them for a few seconds, "We could wave our hands between Luna and Theo too if you want, but we just saw them get married, and the couple has been eating at each other's face the whole day. You can ask Ronald, he's been complaining all day about them— and us! " Pansy points loosely between herself and Hermione, "He's been disgusted by us!"

"Sweetie," Catherine shakes her head, and in her expressions it shows that she thought Pansy was really naive to go saying that, "This is about you, not the other odd couple in the room. When have you ever snogged Hermione Granger? Shagging is certainly off the table for you—" The woman glanced down at Pansy's pretty nails that weren't trimmed. "I've heard from one of my witch lover friends of you being a 'princess'… but that still doesn't mean anything is going on between the two of you." 

Catherine still had to doubt the entire marriage between Pansy and Hermione. Pansy curls her fingers into fists to hide her obvious manicure that she hasn't trimmed. 

Pansy burns into a bright pink prawn wearing a silver dress after what Catherine insinuates about her being a 'pillow princess'.

"Who is the cunt that said that?!" Her voice comes off almost like a shriek. In her embarrassment, Pansy tosses the spoon to show she has completely lost her temper with the other woman. The custard flies onto the table between everyone, but Pansy's puffed up attempt doesn't really intimidate somebody like Catherine.

Thinking Pansy was insulted over another matter, Catherine reassured her, "Calm down, it's not like she called you a dead fish—"

Pansy is already up from her seat, "Oh, shut-up! You wanted a reaction out of me!" She looks ready to walk away from the scene, because she didn't really have much of an argument to give back after throwing her spoon. "I'm neither of those things by the way—just so you know, I just like my nails as they are—they're not even long! Just decorated! It's not even a problem for us, so fuck off!" Pansy's priorities shifted greatly to defending only herself at this point. "Hermione—tell her!" 

Only Ginny raises her eyebrows all the way up with Pansy's embarrassed reaction at being called a pillow princess. Much like Pansy, Ginny's blue eyes look to Hermione expectantly waiting for what the brilliant witch was going to say or do to Catherine Almond now with Pansy's insistence on the matter. The guests from other tables look over a bit startled by Pansy's outburst as well, which made Hermione feel the most awkward with having to answer that with all eyes now on her. 

"..." Tell her what?! Tell her to fuck off or that we fuck—or that you're not a pillow princess? The latter Hermione doesn't even know, but she can at least do the first—Hermione didn't actually like using vulgar words in her everyday speech and vocabulary, but she could think of a way to get rid of Catherine. 

Hermione pulls Pansy back down into her seat before the witch truly huffs away about everything. Catherine got a lively reaction out of Pansy, but it won't be herself. 

"It's none of her business, Pansy." She coldly says in front of the shameless woman that came over uninvited.

Catherine shrugs at that. "I'm only trying to help you two see the flaw in your fabricated story," The flaw being themselves apparently! "Princess here is the one that is just getting a little too excited with what I said." 

Hermione's brow has slowly been furrowing the entire time at the nonsense spewing from this hostess. Most people who have witnessed Hermione's temper in the past knew not to annoy the brilliant witch. Even after the first warning they back off, but it seems this hostess wanted to test the theory and find out for herself. 

Pansy is about to open her mouth again, but Hermione beats her to it. 

"And, I've warned you enough, don't you think?" Hermione then silenced Cathy with a nonverbal Silencio. Her index finger subtly traced the movements of the spell in the direction of the older woman sitting beside her. There was no way that the woman was going to be able to answer her back this time. Catherine better know somebody that could actually lift Hermione's spell or the woman's wireless career was over for good. 

Ever since their youth Hermione was prone to lash out with magic or even her own fist, and that has not changed for the twenty-seven year old witch, even if Hermione prefers to be in control at all times of her emotions. Even more so after the war she's lost her patience for people and things. The sparks from her hair was like a spark of a shorted fuse that could catch and create a destructive fire; burn and eat everything in its path—her anger could be like the fiendfyre curse, something that not even the brilliant Hermione Granger could control it then. Her own enemies know the truth behind that brilliant and compassionate nature that Hermione displays on the surface; she could be spiteful, insidious, and if she threw away all her own defined morals, Hermione could be outright cruel and remorseless to the world. 

Ron's fearful words as a child would ring true even today, "You're brilliant, but scary, 'Mione…" Harry himself once nervously joked that he was far more scared of Hermione's magic than some no-nosed dark wizard that was out to kill him. The men were not inclined to save the perpetrator that Hermione has lost patience with either, one reason was that the two would take her side and the other was because it was impossible to ever stop Hermione Granger the moment she actually acts. 

Her curls under the enchanted lighting erupted in sparks and it caused her hair to frizz at the ends. A clear sign of her unstable emotions and a reminder to everyone else that Hermione Granger could cast magic at just her fingertips than the need to ever grab for her wand. The sound of Ron's chair scoots back from the table. He was the most afraid of being in the blast of Hermione's wrath, not yet knowing she already dealt with the woman. 

Catherine opens her mouth, but when nothing comes out, the witch then clutches her own throat in confusion by it. A look of horror was soon etched onto the woman's face and she suddenly remembered exactly who she was dealing with—a simple counter spell was not going to undo Hermione Granger's Silencio. In fact, Catherine tried to do it just then, but couldn't. 

Hermione sneers at the now quiet woman, "Since you can't think before you speak, I fixed it to where you don't need to speak at all now."

With the instant fear of her livelihood now being in jeopardy, Catherine jumps up, toppling the chair over as she does so, and knows better not to keep herself around any longer. Not even an apologetic expression could be seen, only the sight of her spinning away on her high heels, and hurriedly heading to the nearest Curse Breaker in the wedding's attendance to help her lift Hermione Granger's Silencio. 

Ginny looks away from Catherine's quick getaway, and back at the table with a grin, "So...Hermione got the last word in, that definitely means she's still undefeated, right?"

"..." Still undefeated against who?! Ron's exes or the entertainment industry? What have you been keeping score of, Ginny?

Harry raised an eyebrow, he probably thinks it could have been a whole lot worse. 

 "Er, well, very kind of you 'Mione not to make a show at Luna's wedding," 

Well, there were still a few hours of the reception to get through to know that for sure. 

All eyes then turn on Ron who could only be left to blame for that disaster that just silently ran away. 

Ron apologizes about Catherine and then begins to make the excuse that he didn't really know her that well. "It was just…you know, shared drinks, but…yeah, won't happen again."

Pansy didn't want to listen to Ron, because even she knows that with his taste in women it will happen again. She tugged on Hermione's arm to follow her, "Hey, let's go dance instead."

Ginny slides the abandoned crème brûlée over to her side and mutters mostly to herself, "I'll take this then…" 

Hermione looks up to examine the glittery eyeshadow now, then down to the pink lips doing their best to bloom into a fresh smile when wanting to charm the angry and brilliant witch and keep her happy. It seems even Pansy knew a trick to distract her own darling wife.

"Okay."

She gets up to be led by Pansy toward the dance floor with the fairy lights and the goblin band who start to play a slow and whimsical song for the couples. 

Hermione likes to dance...it had nothing to do with Pansy's charm. Really. 

Chapter Text

Hermione didn't really think too hard when accepting to be Pansy's dance partner, but then when she was finally standing there with Pansy and watching the other twirling and skilled couples, she suddenly choked on what she should do with Pansy here. Hermione knew how to dance. She loved to dance. But, standing up here with Pansy Parkinson, felt a bit more like the first time she attended the Yule Ball back in her fourth year of Hogwarts all over again. Particularly to when the dance starts off awkward, and you suddenly have no clue where one is supposed to place their hands, which led her to a more horrifying thought on accidentally feeling Pansy up which she clearly wouldn't mean to, oh, or worse, the part where Hermione was going to end up stepping on Pansy's toes and look like a total fool that didn't know how to dance at all!

"..." Wait. Why did I find the idea of stepping on Pansy more embarrassing than accidentally somehow touching Pansy's insured ass of 300,000 Galleons? I seriously would rather be a tool than a fool?!

The moment Hermione saw Pansy lift her pretty manicure to try and snake it around her own waist, Hermione shoved her anxious thoughts back to 1994 with her fifteen year old-self. She stopped Pansy's brave attempt with a stern expression. What was I thinking? If anyone should be taking the leader here, I think it should be me! Hermione was dead set on being in control of everything and everyone, and that had to include her dance with Pansy Parkinson. 

Pansy's brow knitted together at Hermione's reaction, and while she didn't say anything herself, Hermione had a feeling that the pretty witch was thinking on the lines of, 'No! It should be me!'

Both witches began to silently fight for dominance on who would actually be taking the lead in their dance, which ended up looking more like a very weird paddy-cake game with a few couples and kids giving them the side-eye. The silver dress heels that Pansy wore gave the other witch an extra three inches to catch up to Hermione's slightly above average height of 5'6", so where Viktor Krum had been over six foot to fit the leading role and give Hermione no chance to actually fight it from him, between Pansy and Hermione, there wasn't a clear height gap to make an easy decision on who should take the lead---well, there was still an easy way to make the decision, but it wasn't a good idea to be seen immaturely putting her 'dear' wife into a headlock on the dance floor for it! 

Hermione was quick to dodge Pansy's oncoming hand with her own arm and then took the opportunity to place her hand firmly on Pansy's slender waist before the pretty witch could block it off. She then clasped their other hands together much more confidently. 

"I have it." Hermione announces now after having won the lead. At this point, nobody but herself had a clue on how anxious she had been on how she was going to dance with the pretty witch in front of her. 

Pansy's spared hand could now only be placed on Hermione's shoulder. The witch looked peeved that she failed to take the lead herself, but also knew better not to physically or magically fight the control-freak for it. Pansy knows she would still lose when it came to Hermione Granger. 

Hermione kept her eyes from staring down at their feet like some amateur and refrained from looking over Pansy's cleavage that pushed up against her own chest with how close they became when Pansy stepped into Hermione's personal bubble. The scent of Pansy's perfume of berries and jasmine was very close to her again. Compared to the heavy scent of roses that Hermione's sinuses weren't fond of, the jasmine was very pleasing. 

The blinding flash of a camera continued throughout the venue, and occasionally Pansy would wink and smile over at the photographer as she was led by Hermione around the dance floor with the other couples. Even Hermione was happy to have a dance partner that knew her lessons compared to Ron or Harry who were constantly stepping on Hermione's own toes with their two left feet. She doesn't remember Viktor being this good of a dancer either. Ron did try to learn how to dance for Hermione's sake, but Pansy was by far the more skilled dancer out of anyone that Hermione has ever danced with. The other witch might have fought with her for the lead earlier, but she was completely in sync to Hermione's own steps as she followed. 

Pansy's hand on her arm starts to sneak upward to the back of Hermione's neck, just through the curtain of curls, and her fingertips were hot against Hermione's bare skin that met with the collar of the blazer. She tried to ignore that hot and tingling sensation that Pansy gave her. 

Out of the corner of Hermione's eye, she spots Neville dancing with his wife Hannah. His head tilted onto her own that is pressed into his broad shoulder. The two have a slow approach to their dance that is mostly just a gentle rock between them. Ignoring everyone else around them, Neville and Hannah were in their own little world. Just past the married couple, Dean Thomas was chatting wildly while dancing with Justin Finch-Fletchley—she had been told by Ginny that the two were just starting to date, but that Dean was smitten with the other man already. 

By the look of things, Dean danced worse than Ron when he takes the lead with Hermione, but she is willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt that he was only distracted with whatever he was telling Justin—likely his muggle football team, as Hermione knew very little else about her former housemate. Justin occasionally nods along to Dean, ears pink, while he cringes down at his feet. Justin was skilled enough to do a decent job at dodging most of Dean's clunkier movements, but occasionally the man would still scuff Justin's own pair of dress shoes that Hermione could surprisingly recognize as an expensive muggle brand of shoe. 

Justin catches Hermione staring at them. He wrinkles his brow and mouths for her to pay attention to her own dance partner instead of his!

No, she would be just fine, as it was Justin who should continue paying attention to Dean. He suddenly yelps in pain as Dean stumbles forwardly suddenly, this time with apologies as they happen to almost fall into a much older couple. Justin finally gives up on dancing with his handsome boyfriend at that point, "How about we just get ourselves a drink, Dean?"

"Sure! That's way better than dancing."

Justin blamed Hermione for all of it. Before walking off the dance floor and following Dean to the open bar, the man stopped in front of the two witches, "I hope to Helga that Pansy steps on your foot, too!"

Pansy snorts at Justin's attempts at scolding Hermione. She speaks to the man instead, "You better catch up with your boyfriend, Justin, there is a far more fit blond at the bar right now that actually knows who Cruyff is!"

The man gasps and quickly leaves Hermione alone to take care of some imaginary wizard who was about to steal his boyfriend with obscure football facts! Hermione assumes at least Cruyff had to do with football.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Pansy then, "I didn't know you knew about muggle football?"

"No, I'm as clueless as you, but I know Justin has been pretending he does just to impress Dean for over a month now."

She soon hears Pansy whisper close into her ear, her starry green eyes just looking past Hermione's shoulder when she does, "Hey, Tracey is coming this way with her husband—he's American ," When saying it like that, Pansy sounded like she hated the fact that Tracey's husband was from the States, "I cannot tell you what his name actually is so I will not be the one formally introducing you to him—mostly, because I just call him Rimjob—" Parkinson, you call him what now? , "Tracey hates that I call him that in all my letters, but at this point it's just a habit, so if I slip up and say it to his face…you pretend I didn't say it at all in hopes the man just thinks that he heard wrong…" 

Hermione tilts her head toward the sudden couple that Pansy wanted her to gaslight. There was a man and woman heading toward them.

She honestly isn't sure if she wants to ask why the man was called that, but Pansy answers very little, "I can't stand him. You'll know what I mean soon."

Tracey Davis was starting to show her pregnancy, her brown hair pulled into a high pony-tail, and wearing a pretty summer maternity dress that must be comfortable to wear with the baby bump. Hermione can't remember much of the former classmate, but she thinks Tracey always did wear her hair up in a pony-tail back at Hogwarts, so that didn't change. The American husband anxiously takes more guarded steps to be sure no one accidentally ran over his wife while walking through the dance floor just to have a chat with Pansy Parkinson. 

"Pansy!" Tracey calls out to her old friend and the fraudulent couple could only pause in their dancing to allow for conversation, "It's good to see you finally, I was trying to look for you earlier. Daphne told me you were out here, but the floor was too lively and crowded then," She puts a hand on her baby bump when she talks and, in the same breath she turns to Hermione, "Granger, it has been much longer—Hogwarts, yeah. Very surprised honestly over this whole thing," Tracey's eyes roll back and forth between Hermione and Pansy. Even with the couple right in front of her, the woman still doesn't seem able to believe it, "Merlin…never expected this— ever. "

Her eyes then fell onto her own husband who stood there with a polite smile to his wife's friends. From his eyes boring into Hermione, the man looked eager to be introduced to the one-third of the Golden trio. Tracey's free hand is placed on the upper part of his arm suddenly, "Oh, right. I told my husband that I was in the same year as Potter and his pals, but he never believed that I knew you guys," Tracey smiles, and then gestures toward Hermione now, "Look, now you have to believe me, my own friend is married to Hermoine Granger—again though, I was absolutely shocked when I heard the news that Pansy was married to you, like, nobody knew ? Nobody was expecting that!" She was still very chatty and explains a bit to her American husband of why this was so weird for her to see, "These two were constantly at each other's throats back in school. I remember one time in third year, Granger and Pansy had a tussle in the girl's lavatory— the toilets, hun , pulling at each other's hair—"

Pansy quickly feigned ignorance to such a story that was being told to Tracey's husband. "No, I don't remember that."

Tracey ignores the hint of Pansy not wanting this next part mentioned "—I'm pretty sure Granger won! Though, I guess that was only because Millie was sick in the infirmary with that glow cold going around at the time—" Her smile freezes suddenly after accidentally mentioning Millicent Bulstrode in front of Pansy while reminiscing, but the pregnant woman recovers her words and smile again, "Regardless of what you were like as kids, you two look great together now!"

Brown eyes barely catch the emotional shift in Pansy's starry green eyes. The pretty witch looks at the goblin band instead, her nails slightly scraping across the fabric of Hermione's blazer subconsciously as if she was thinking of something that Tracey had brought up. 

Hermione hadn't thought of that memory in years, but what she did remember more clearly from that 'win' with Pansy was that Millicent Bulstrode showed up several hours later smacking Hermione in the back with her own heavy book bag when walking by. The Slytherin girl didn't leave any words when she left the Gryffindor groaning from the surprise hit, but Hermione knew that had nothing to do with being muggleborn or Harry's best friend, it had everything to do with Pansy Parkinson. Aware of the emotional shift in both Tracey and Pansy, Hermione didn't have any plans to bring up the 'win' that Millicent stole from her. 

She smiles at Tracey's last words instead, "That's likely an unpopular opinion by the state of things, but thank you, Tracey—and go ahead and call me Hermione."

"Oh," Tracey waves away others'opinions about Pansy's marriage to Hermione Granger, "It's not their marriage to care about! It's how the two of you feel about each other. Forget everyone else!"

Pansy turns head away from the goblin band, "Yeah, well you should hear Daphne speak of us. She hasn't let it go that I married Hermione—probably because I didn't invite her to any wedding."  Not at all for any other reason...

No, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy's very close friend, didn't believe their marriage for a second, but thankfully didn't outright call them frauds in public for it either when Hermione was supposed to have brunch with her. The blonde woman only left quickly with her purse in hand and a subtle warning about what Pansy was getting her ' stupid-self' into. Daphne's cold eyes falling on Hermione and in riddles made a short comment, "No, you're not going to find her here either, Pans… " Hermione had been left with a very quiet Pansy sitting there in the restaurant. Pansy had put her head into her hands, before finally lifting her head back up to Hermione as if she didn't just take Daphne's warning to heart at all, "Well, that's Daphne…"  Followed by that embarrassed chuckle that was more breathy and not filled with any bubbly feeling. 

Hermione feels Pansy squeeze her arm tightly now. She assumes by the grip that Pansy wants to put on a show to give the impression that they were the loving married couple that Tracey had complimented and not the frauds that they actually were. Her hand pulls Pansy's waist a little closer to herself, but Tracey looks far more affectionate with her husband by just standing beside him. It wasn't a competition, but the real couple were obviously going to win in Hermione's eyes. She probably looked more like she was giving Pansy an awkward side-hug than being lovebirds. 

Tracey didn't seem to care or notice the witches compensating. She rolls her eyes to the ceiling at the mention of Daphne Greengrass instead, "Daphne always has something rude to say, doesn't she? But, you two finally put aside your old differences…it's…well, it's a breath of fresh air around here, honestly. Being back home does bring back some…good times, the good days, you know," She shifted a shoulder up when trying not to actually admit how awful it actually had been in front of the two and her husband, because there were actually very few good days when they all attended Hogwarts, when looking back on their childhoods, "but now I feel like things are starting to actually look up now...after the war. When seeing the two of you together. For all of us."

Silence fell between the three women at what Tracey meant, but didn't say. Hermione suddenly felt guilty by her fraudulent marriage being the reason the pregnant woman felt more confident by the state of things happening here in the UK since the war, she could only quietly apologize in her head. Sorry, Tracey.

Hermione tries to think back on where Tracey Davis was during the war, but, there was no recollection of having seen her at the Battle of Hogwarts. She can only assume that the Slytherin fled to the United States just to get away from it all by the end of their sixth year. Hermione can't blame the other witch for doing so. Especially if she were to learn that Tracey's father was muggle and how it had been her own Slytherin housemates that warned the girl through letters to leave as quickly as she could that summer when rumor spread that the Ministry of Magic fell to Voldemort. 

The American man now stood a bit fidgety beside his wife, he was still eager to introduce himself. Hermione finally casts her eyes upon him and then uses his own presence to change the subject for everyone, "Sorry, I didn't think I caught your name?" She still had yet to see why Pansy had given him that nickname.

Tracey seems to have forgotten all about introducing him, "Oh, that's right! Go ahead, honey!" She pats him on the forearm. 

Why does she sound like she is letting him loose?

He was quick to strike out his hand between Hermione and himself. "Nice to meet you, Hermione," Tracey's husband had dark curls and his American accent was prominent enough to identify him to the east coast of the United States, "I'm Eric Chasteen. Trace isn't wrong—I'll be honest, I really couldn't believe it! you're absolutely big in the states—the first book you ever published is still listed as a bestseller in our New York Ghost! I've read them all—I mean, there's only two, but I'd count your research papers you published. Oh, and that one translation you did of Beedle the Bard!" Even the translation?! So, Eric was an actual fan boy! "For your second book? About the Deathly Hallow artifacts? It's my favorite. I always thought it was just a children's story, but I loved the historic tracing you did of the Elder wands' whereabouts! Still waiting on your third book. I heard it was going to be about lost ancestral family runes or…" He shrugs as he talks, and looks down in confusion as to why Hermione hadn't taken his hand yet, "Or… something? I'm a bit of a fan if you haven't noticed!"

Hermione's eyes lower to the outstretched hand again and politely goes to shake it. "Nice to meet you," She doesn't mention anything about her third book. She didn't say anything to Catherine about it either. Even with all the free time she currently has, the investigation was not putting her in any mood to write.

He wanted to be sure that Hermione remembers his name, "Again, that's Eric Chasteen."Was he going to ask for an autograph now?

Hermione had a fairly good memory, but if she never sees him again, she might not remember the name. Not when she had a feeling that Pansy was just going to continue using 'Rimjob'. 

"Heel, Eric!" Tracey jokes to her husband as if she was training an enthusiastic dog. 

Eric used both his hands to clamp down on Hermione's. He isn't falling back Tracey! "..." Americans love a firm handshake for some reason—at least Hermione didn't get the bone crushing handshake Harry often complained about when visiting the United States on work trips. 

Eric continues speaking with his eyes bright— this man was just as chatty as his wife , beaming big and showing off his pearly whites. "This is the best day of my life—truly an honor to meet you," Eric's handshake was still strong and firm. He wasn't ever going to let go, was he? He looks over and winks at Pansy now,  "Pansy is a lucky witch to have a brilliant wife like you around, right?"

Okay, so he didn't forget that Pansy and Tracey existed...Thank Merlin, Eric and Tracey were polite enough not to bring up my corruption scandal alongside my published achievements. 'Brilliant' was not an adjective that would cover that. 

Pansy only hums a response to him while also looking down at Hermione's hand that Eric was holding hostage. Her darling wife was probably just holding back her impulsive thoughts on calling the man 'Rimjob' for his smarminess instead of actually saving Hermione from him.

Tracey had to silently nudge her own husband in the shoulder about it instead. Hermione mumbles a soft thanks to the woman after Eric finally returns her hand. 

The pregnant woman lightly laughs along with her husband's teasing of the two witches now, "Yeah, with Pansy's beauty, it might just be a match made in heaven with Hermione's brains."

Hermione had a weak and uneasy smile now at that sort of compliment. Tracey might not have meant anything negative by it, but having heard it more than once lately by many people using it as more of a backhanded compliment it didn't sit right with her.

She could only helplessly ask in her head, Is that to say that I'm not pretty or that Pansy is dumb? Maybe it doesn't, but I can't help but think that's what they actually mean. Ron likes to bring up that I once said Pansy was thicker than a concussed troll while Pansy had interchangeably called me a rabbit and Beaver Face multiple times back when we were kids, but I'd like to take back what I said at least about Pansy—knowing now that there were several things that Pansy knew that I know very little of. 

Pansy must have had similar thoughts, because she was offended, "I was prefect just like 'Mione! I even did quite well on my N.E.W.Ts—"

Tracey cuts her off, "I guess we're not going to mention your final Herbology score being a T, right?"

So, why did you then have to go saying that in front of us, if Pansy didn't want that mentioned? To put Pansy down or something? Hermione's eyebrows slowly start to furrow with suspicion. It seemed that the woman did mean for her compliment about them to diss Pansy's intelligence. Despite the earlier friendliness she had felt from Tracey, the pregnant woman turned out to be just like the rest of Pansy's Slytherin friends.

"Well…" Pansy soon deflates like a balloon and could only give up on listing her very few moments of brilliance in front of everyone now. Her own friend compliments her beauty, but completely insults her intelligence in the same breath. Her grip tightens on Hermione's arm again. For Pansy, everyone at the Ancestral Manor all thought the same of her— a kitchenware princess didn't have to do much except sit and look pretty, right? When it came to brilliance it was expected of Pansy Parkinson to sit on the sidelines and be only looked at as something equivalent to a trophy wife. 

Pansy was quick to change the subject to talk about the baby instead before Hermione had a chance to dismiss the pleasantries entirely. 

"Look at you, Trace, how far along are you now?" She glances down at the baby bump.

This causes Tracey to mention that it was currently three months along. Her due date was near around December of this year. Hermione stares down at Tracey's baby bump while the woman prattles on. It still surprises her, even after Harry and Ginny already had James and Albus, that all her old classmates were starting to have children—some already running about and talking. James was three just this April! Sometimes it made Hermione feel a little far behind on her own life plans that she had made when she was only ten years old—she's married, yes. But, does it count toward those life goals? Hermione's marriage to Pansy was fraud after all. 

Tracey even starts talking about her plans of moving her own parents to the United States. The excuse being that it would be closer to their own grandchild, and not because of the ugly reminders that a war had taken place here, "It'll be great, I think!" Tracey has more pros to add about her parents' move, "It's been a constant back and forth with the portkey to visit every holiday and it'll be easier on my parents if they just relocate, you know? My dad is more adamant about taking an airplane than just popping in with mum, so imagine the money saving on that."

Pansy was horrified at what she just heard, "Your dad prefers those flying death traps instead of a portkey?"

"Don't let the muggle papers scare you, Pansy...Ask Hermione!" Tracey leans in with a hush whisper while Eric looks a little uncomfortable now, "Those are isolated incidents and anyways, once we do the move, dad won't have to take the plane ever again!"

Instead of being able to educate Pansy on the statistics of airplane crashes, it instead dawns on the pretty witch of what the Davis's big move to the United States actually meant for her old housemate. 

"Wait. Hold on, are you telling me that you have no plans to move back at all? What about your child attending Hogwarts—won't their name be written down for it?"

Pansy's questions about schooling now cause the genuine smile on Tracey's face to falter.

"Um, well, about that…" 

The pregnant woman uneasily looks to her own husband to actually rescue her from Pansy's question. Hermione was unsure of why Tracey was afraid to just admit that she probably won't be sending Chasteen Jr. to Hogwarts. Maybe at times like this made Tracey still feel like that little girl standing before Draco's little gang ( the popular, yet snobbish Slytherins of their year ) for their validation, but they would only snub Tracey's life choices that didn't align to their own. First it was having an American husband, now it was going to be where to send her own child for their magical education. 

Eric takes on Pansy's question for his wife. He puffs up his chest with pride for his own magical school, "Ilvermorny, of course! Hopefully a Pukwudgie like myself!"

This choice causes Pansy's pretty features to form into absolute disgust at just the mention of Hogwarts' rivaling magical boarding school that was in the states. 

"Ilvermorny?" Pansy looks like she wanted to vomit. 

Pansy's disgust and dislike for the school might be taking it a little too far, but Hermione had to admit it wasn't the best. Ilvermorny's rank when it came to a child's magical education was starting to become low on the list these past few years.

Hermione personally believed that if a parent was going to spend money on a tuition fee, one would want the better choice—right? Out of all the private magical schools that Tracey could send Chasteen Jr. around here to, Hogwarts was the best there was in the UK for her child and Tracey having attended the school qualified her for the ' ancestral discount'. That was how the Weasley's could afford to send their children! For the states, Tracey had better options than Ilvermorny. It was currently the Salem Institute that was the better school, an all-witch school up near the east coast, yes, but there was that all-wizard school over in New Mexico that ranked high too, or even the recently built magical school that was in Louisiana that was worth a chance to try out compared to Ilvermorny that has fallen off since the last thirty decades. 

That all being said, with Hermione being muggleborn, her own tuition fee had been paid through by the Ministry's Muggleborn Education Decree that had been there since the early days of when the UK were required to have ALL muggleborn children to have a magical education, so her parents didn't need to take much into consideration about their own money and opinions. She only remembers her parents opting in to buy her textbooks and supplies by themselves. But, if Hermione was ever given the choice, she would have still chosen Hogwarts. Even if that was from her bias out of nostalgia and for her respect to the professors that still taught at the school today, Hogwarts was still considered one of the highest rankings of magical education in the world. 

Unfortunately, despite Pansy's disgust or Hermione's very valid opinion on magical schools, the married witches had no say on the magical education of Tracey and Eric's children at all. There was no discussion for them to have here even if Hermione wanted to blurt out otherwise! In order not to break out into an argument with her close friend about schools this time, Pansy finally says her goodbyes and drags Hermione away from the married couple to continue their dancing again. 

The pretty witch still felt compelled to mutter under her breath again when putting her hand back onto Hermione's shoulder, "Ilvermorny, seriously?"

"I find that Hogwarts is the better school." Hermione agrees now that the couple have left them alone. 

This allowed Pansy to open up further about her own opinions, "Exactly, who in their right mind would send their child to a knock-off Hogwarts when you can go to the real one?"

Hermione explains her reasons in turn, "Well, I know that Ilvermorny has a bit of history of being a great supporter of educators and opened-minded knowledge, but it's a shame it's fallen off from that mindset. Children receive their wands from the school, but can't even take their wands home with them during summer holidays. Even I admit to having practiced a bit of magic outside of school at the Weasley's secretly and I can't imagine how else a child can protect themselves without even a simple shield charm from the many magical dangers outside school—the amount of times Harry has had to save himself…" To be fair, normally kids don't have a maniac and his followers out to kill them, but Hermione still shakes her head and stands by with what she said. 

"Oh, can't even take your wand home, and the Americans call us backwards!" Pansy scoffs at the idea of it,"And… Pukwudgie ? Rimjob is proud to say he's from Pukwudgie? What in Dante's seven layers of casserole sin even is that, Granger? Tell me!"

Her lips twitched upward at the kitchenware heiress's casserole expression that replaced the cursing, "It's a magical creature native to North America…kind of an ugly little guy that plays tricks on humans…I've only read about them, never met one myself. We don't have any reports of any sightings in my department that I know of." Her department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had strict policies against many invasive species coming in and being introduced into the country's local magical ecosystem, it was especially all in place for the safety of their own local muggles. 

Pansy continues to complain after listening to Hermione, "That poor child...a Pukwudgie! For Tracey's sake, she better hope to have a girl so she can send her to Salem—the uniforms are even cute!" That was as far as Pansy would go in acknowledging an American school, because she then goes on to add, "Though I hear it's just an equivalent to one of our charm schools here—you can't even go until you're 14!"

"There is also that school in New Mexico she can pick." Hermione reminds, though she too forgot that you can only attend those particular schools at a later stage, which probably does skew the educational rankings just a bit, "Or maybe that one in Louisiana—Honestly, she has way more options in North America than we do."

Pansy didn't think those options were great either, her cute nose scrunches up, "No, her future child has the opportunity to go to the greatest school in the world, Granger, and Tracey chooses Ilvermorny?" She was still unable to forget Eric's pride in his own school's house mascot, "Who the fuck is proud to say that their child is a Pukwudgie? Like, be honest! No you aren't! I'd be more proud to say my child was Hufflepuff!"

If she was being honest as well, Hermione prefers being housed in Gryffindor that had a lion for a mascot compared to a creature like that herself... 

But, why are the two of us still going on about this? Tracey is only three months along in her pregnancy, she has a good amount of time to figure it out for herself if she wants her child to be a Pukwudgie!

With those thoughts, Hermione helplessly tells Pansy, "Well, it's not our kid to worry about." 

Suddenly, Hermione felt that she had struck herself with lightning by having said 'our' kid in front of Pansy Parkinson. Hermione's mind panicked and wondered if she should correct what 'our' meant in that statement or not. They were married out of convenience, fraudulently. The two definitely didn't have plans to have children together! 

Pansy tilts her head at Hermione's sudden startled expression, but she doesn't correct her wife, instead she adds to it with a glint of playfulness in those green eyes, "Well then, you have to agree that our kid has to go to Hogwarts—I'd say I'm biased to my own house, but I won't mind having a Ravenclaw out of us."

Relaxing her muscles finally, Hermione smiles back at that, "A Ravenclaw doesn't sound that bad." She tilts her head imagining that future for their imaginary child, "Top of the class, prefect fifth year like we were, and if possible, head prefect by seventh year."

While they play around with a future that was unlikely to ever happen, the two were able to continue their dancing, though their feet were slower than before. 

"With your impeccable beauty and my ginormous brain, I'm sure it's more than possible, Granger." 

A soft and breathy laugh escapes Hermione when catching how Pansy switched up on what belonged to who. 

With Pansy's eyes bright underneath the fairy lights, the flecks of gold in those green eyes continue to remind Hermione of a cluster of stars. If only she knew what Pansy's hidden constellation was called… Hermione was a little dazed while counting the gold flecks in Pansy's left eye.  

Pansy sighs and blinks away from Hermione's stare. The movement lifts the charm the witch always seems to be able to cast onto Hermione, but it's only seconds when the eyelashes flutter open to reveal starry eyes again, "But, mum used to say I'd pay for my raising with this mouth of mine—and our child will definitely pick up that spite of yours! Such a combo makes me feel that we'd have our hands full of discipline letters from McGonagall every other weekday—is prefect still even possible at that point? "

Before Hermione could answer, a bubbly laugh left Pansy as she suddenly thought up a little game to play between the two while dancing, "What do you think would be the worst to try and punish— knowing we've done the same. Our child jinxes RAT onto some poor girl's forehead after she ousts their secret club? I can't forget to add that our child will even refuse to remove said jinx..." Pansy shrugs while her eyes glance up at the floating fairy lights,"And, well, with it being your child, it's probably too complicated for even Madam Pomfrey to find a counter-jinx…"

Hermione cringes at the very familiar scenario that Pansy was describing. How did Pansy even know about the part where I refused to undo the jinx on Marietta Edgecombe with Professor McGonagall? In all honesty, do they have any right to be angry at their child with the amount of things the two of them have done up to now? 

Bribery and embezzlement are going to be big shoes to fill here, Pansy!

"...or…" Pansy thinks up something she had done back at school, "Having to hear that our child is a bit of a bully after telling one of Goyle's kids that 'brushing teeth with armadillo bile won't help with his lack of wit' at age eleven?"

Hermione is quick to catch the creativity in that insult, but she tries not to laugh. "Are you serious right now?"

Pansy bobbles her head up and down quickly. She was quite proud of it!

Armadillo bile was an important ingredient for Wit- Sharpening potions— Pansy was able to create both a halitosis insult along with insulting the boy's IQ. That was definitely impressive for a first year bully, and Hermione is surprised by it, because she used to think little Pansy Parkinson wasn't very creative with her name calling and insults. Hermione had heard 'Beaver-Face' in early primary school long before eleven year old Pansy showed up to continue the childish tradition. 

Within their dance, the two twirl about, and the short silver dress sparkles under the fairy lights when it lifts, magnifying Pansy's beauty and starry eyes in front of everyone.

Hermione sighs with having to actually answer, "I'm not the school bully here, but isn't it a shame to waste an insult like that on...Goyle, of all people? I doubt he understood the correlation of those two things—" She is quick to add her compliment to Pansy's eleven year old genius, "Creative, I'm willing to say, though."

Pansy looked down at her shoes with a heavy sigh of that being pointed out. Her shoulders are pink along with the flushed cheeks when she looks back up at Hermione, "Okay, yeah… it was a waste. Vincent wasn't even there to share their one brain cell together for Greg to even get mad at me for it, but I just couldn't let the opportunity slip after sitting on it all through potions class and of course, only you would probably get it from just our first week of potions class, but it wouldn't fit if I said it to you. You were already known for being annoyingly smart and you actually care about your dental hygiene! Like come on, your buckteeth were actually cute, unlike Greg's gnarly teeth!"

Hermione reveals her own bright smile when it was mentioned. The buckteeth were long gone, but Hermione was secretly happy to hear that Pansy openly admitted that they had been cute, despite all the times the witch made fun of her for buckteeth when they were kids. So, Pansy was as much of a liar as I was about calling her a troll?

"And, you got caught for this?"

Pansy nodded, not knowing of Hermione's inner thoughts, "Yup, Flitwick and Sprout came around the corner and overheard me say it. Oh, and this is perfect to add my 'what would you do as a parent' question. Get this, the Head of Ravenclaw felt he couldn't find it in himself to actually dock off points for it—Flitwick instead wanted to encourage my cleverness by giving me 10 points for it, but the Head of Hufflepuff took that 10 right off for being…while, truthful about Greg, wasn't very nice," Pansy rolled her eyes repeating the part about Professor Sprout, "The woman even included a written disciplinary letter to my mum on how I was only 3 weeks into school and I already started to develop a bit of a mean streak—" Pansy shrugged then, "Didn't help, as you well know about my title that I held six years in a row of being a massive cunt to everyone, but still, as you can now see from exhibit A, Granger. It's proof that I can contribute to the high probability of our child being housed in Ravenclaw, I mean, I was commended by Flitwick himself—and while it's been awhile, I'm pretty sure creativity is still a trait!"

Hermione now breaks out into laughter at Pansy playfully gloating in front of her, her eyes trailing down to pink smiling lips and straight back up for her brown to meet Pansy's green,"Okay…okay...I think that does raise the chances, but only as long as we're using that creativity for good," Then Hermione begins to think if she would be a Flitwick or a Sprout in that situation, "I have to say, that's a tough decision even for me. On one hand, I'd be impressed that a first year had such wit, but…" Hermione sighs, even if this is only an imaginary scenario, Hermione felt she still had to be a responsible parent for their imaginary eleven year old child, "We can't encourage that, can we? So, our child would have to be punished, but over something like that…probably not anything serious like involving a Howler," 

She then curiously wanted to know the discipline Pansy's own parents had used after the owl was sent, "What did your parents even do about Professor Sprout's letter?" Even though Hogwarts was a boarding school, Hermione had witnessed wizarding parents showing up to the school to have a conference with the Head of House on their child's bad behavior on several occasions or even sending a Howler for the entire Great Hall to hear. "Tell me the truth. Did you get a Howler?"

Pansy sighs in relief for her own eleven year old self then,  "Oh, thank Morgana no Howler! My mum did tell me that if I was going to be mean, it better not be anything my dad had to come up to the school for...so I did pretty good for myself for not having received a Howler during my entire schooling—we don't count my brother." Another story for another day, "And, you know what, there was also my grandfather who wrote to me about how happy he was to hear that I was at least paying attention to my potion classes…"

So for the spoiled kitchenware heiress, there was no punishment at all, except maybe a subtle threat from her own mom to not take it too far. All the students at Hogwarts thank you for that one, Yvette, and yes, Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes about her own mother-in-law's attempt at parenting. 

"Now," Pansy is ready to reveal how her parents would have reacted if she pulled a stunt like Hermione had while attending Hogwarts, "jinxing ' RAT ' permanently on a girl's forehead and refusing to give the counter-jinx… Granger , that's not a just a disciplinary letter, that's being asked to come to the school to get one's child and take them home—because it's expulsion! If that was me , if that was any of my friends. I don't know about your parents, but my parents would have been absolutely LIVID at having to come get me out of that one."

Well, my parents didn't exactly know about that. That was the advantage of having muggles for parents, they didn't always understand or know what was actually going on at Hogwarts even if a letter was sent. Hermione always had a foot between two doorways, magic and muggle, but since the war, Hermione had closed that other door off, only taking her memories of it with her. No, Hermione didn't have to worry about her parents finding out about any of that stuff anymore…

If I were the parent… Hermione guesses that she would likely develop several migraines if she kept receiving such letters about her imaginary child doing the same things she got up to with Harry and Ron while at Hogwarts.

But, if it was a cause to stick it to someone like Dolores Umbridge… putting aside the Marietta thing for a moment… Hermione thinks that she could commend the child for that. Bringing the Marietta thing back into the situation, Hermione would have to definitely pull her child aside to ask for them to really think about the consequences, before going ahead with the idea of disfiguring someone for life… I would at least do that, right?

How about stuffing an animagus beetle into a jar and blackmailing it? Well, those pincers have come back to start pinching Hermione in the butt, so at twenty-seven, the bright witch knows now that Rita Skeeter could have probably been dealt with in an entirely different way. Compared to herself, Hermione would have protected her own child from having to worry about lies ever being written about them for that to ever happen in the first place—Hermione was more than sure that she would squash any bug that thought they could harm her own children in any way. 

Hermione tries to answer Pansy then about how her own parents couldn't comprehend much about the magical world, "My parents didn't really understand what I got up to at Hogwarts. Studying magic went beyond what they knew, but they did know it was important for me to learn. I guess, given how their usual habits were like, if they knew what happened…I guess they'd probably just simply ask me for how long it would last, maybe even thinking it could be washed off…they would never think of how serious the implications were." 

Maybe.

Sixteen year old Hermione, spiteful to those who wronged her, didn't think to give a snitch mercy, not when she cast the jinx onto the member's list, so there was never a possibility of washing it off. It had been permanent. Marietta could speak again, that Hermione had allowed , but Marrietta had been disfigured for life. The Grangers would have been disappointed in their daughter for standing by that choice, wouldn't they? That guilt in Hermione's heart tells her that they just might. What she did to Marietta Edgecombe when she was sixteen was so much worse than what she had done to Catherine Almonds earlier. 

If the roles were reversed, if Hermione was standing before her own child who refused to back down much like herself...what would she do? Would she be like her own parents and be disappointed?

"Your mom might have been onto something when she said we'd pay for our own raising, because I'm already suffering now for the things I did at fifteen to Rita Skeeter, but…" Could she punish her own child for that? Of all the things that Hermione herself had done—did she have any right? Did she herself not believe in the cause of what Dumbledore's Army meant at the time? Even if she learned it would have disappointed her own parents? "I wager that I could at least counter-jinx it if the child refuses, so nobody has to take any trip to St. Mungo's…or end up disfigured for the rest of their life."

"But…you can't reprimand our child, Hermione?" Pansy lifted an eyebrow at what Hermione didn't say.

Hermione is exasperated and flustered by Pansy calling her out for that. "Why do I—" Deep down, if she had to be completely honest about her actions, a part of Hermione still didn't have true remorse for what she did to Marietta with her jinx, Dolores with the centaurs, or Rita with the blackmail, and yes, it was Hermione's 'righteousness' that got her into that kind of trouble every time and it was that same belief even now that Hermione refused to actually say out loud that she had been wrong for what she did, because she has only ever been right when doing so. While she might feel bad on the surface in front of everyone about it, Hermione couldn't punish her own child for it. She would be a hypocrite!

Hermione gathers her words again, and suddenly sounds rather self-righteous when she does so this time, "Why do I even have to get the worst example as an incident anyway? I believed in the cause, Parkinson, and if our child has to deal with another Umbridge and not get herself ratted out, I can only commend them for going against the grain. Can't say that about yourself, can you?"

Pansy is a bit speechless by Hermione turning this around on her, literally and physically, as the two swirl past a group of other couples while dancing. The quick jerk of Hermione's movements accidentally caused Pansy's heel to step straight down onto Hermione's own shoe. 

"..." Excuse me? Hermione joined a war with her own friends, what is there to scold Pansy for when she certainly didn't even take up the Dark Mark when all her own housemates were scrambling to do so?! She absolutely went against the grain on that one!

Despite feeling the excruciating pain of Pansy's heel stabbing her foot, Hermione still has to steady Pansy and hold the pretty witch a little closer to keep them both from toppling into the floor or into other unsuspecting couples.  

Pansy did join Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad in her fifth year, but she tried to explain herself to Hermione then as the two quickly fix their dancing hiccup,"...Okay, let's pull back on the extremities there, Granger! I was just trying to find another way to pass my O.W.L.s. We got to practice without harassment from that woman, and you know very well that you, Weasley and Potter wouldn't have allowed any Slytherins to your little secret club—you made sure we were left out, like everyone does, so we took her up on her offer. And before you lie to me and say you would have if I wasn't being a cunt, I probably wouldn't have joined anyway, because that would have been a social death on my part, not to mention Morag Flint would have loved to stab me the first chance she got. In my sleep, if she could!" Definitely would have if Millicent was caught slacking, Hermione didn't know the Morag and Pansy feud, but the bright witch reckons that must have been a serious thing for a teenage Pansy to worry about, "And yeah, Granger, I did think it was a little fun to mess with people while wearing the badge, but you didn't see me getting into any trouble, nor did I disfigure a witch that year now did you?"

The pretty witch now glares back with her own judgement towards Hermione.

"..." With the Marietta thing being thrown back into her face, who was Hermione Granger to judge Pansy Parkinson for again? Hermione just felt that their two comparisons for trouble from when they were kids was unfair. She just wanted Pansy to make things equal! Why couldn't forging her own father's signature since third year be an equivalent to what I have ever done? What about how it was Pansy who said a bunch of lies in her interview with Rita Skeeter and caused the Wizarding world to hate a fifteen year old girl and send me pus filled letters? Or how I once overheard Pansy tease acne-ridden Eloise Midgen that the best way to get rid of a zit was blowing it off! Eloise almost lost her nose from that incident and now it was permanently off-centered to this day! Now, no, Pansy didn't disfigure that girl herself, but she gave that poor Hufflepuff terrible advice, because Pansy thought it would be funny if Eloise was actually stupid enough to do it! Pansy Parkinson, using her own words was a 'massive cunt' back at Hogwarts! Why am I not getting those examples? Because she didn't get caught for any of it?

Hermione sounded a bit nasally when having to calm herself down in front of Pansy, "Surely you've been caught doing something just as awful or more back at Hogwarts—are you seriously telling me that you would reprimand our child for the same things as you did? Because, let's be honest, your parents' way of handling you clearly tells me how you'd approach our own parenting over our child that is doing every terrible thing we got away with…"

The parenting skills that would be contributing here in raising a child—who can talk about reprimanding here at all?! We actually did commit a crime —even if it was for a good cause! It was all hypothetical, but, honestly, now even Hermione was very concerned and anxious for the future of their imaginary child!

Pansy finds Hermione's reaction amusing and a bit cute, so instead of feeling any offense to what was just said, she was patient with Hermione, "Unlike you, there are things I can't get away with if I ever did them. Honestly, while our child was getting expelled and you counter-jinx that other kid—I'd be asking McGonagall and Dumbledore's portrait on why our child was getting expelled for something you got away with! Like, what half of our child is being expelled there— me?" She shook her head in disbelief over that herself, "I've never been that spiteful…now, I know I was a bitchy cunt, and I still can be, but I haven't personally jinxed or cursed someone. Your record is worse than mine, and yet, after the war I was told I drank the tears of orphans and flayed people alive. Why do you think that is?" 

Hermione at that moment finally came to the realization of why Pansy's examples were the way that they were, because it was the only playing field that Pansy had to offer. Really, wasn't it actually unfair for Pansy? Hermione's actions were so extreme that the Slytherin would have gotten expelled for all the things Hermione did—for what Harry himself had gotten up to! If Pansy Parkinson ever got away with anything, it was only because she didn't get caught.

And, she knew it was true that Pansy did get the worst of it in harassment and false reports from others after the war, when everyone wanted to make the unmarked witch their new bogeyman, because there was no one left that they could ship off to Azkaban. The witch left the public's eye back then for good after her trial of being found not guilty, and Pansy didn't resurface into the spotlight until after Harry Potter's interview in 2004. Hermione suddenly wondered how different it could have been for everyone in those early days after the war if Harry's interview with Lavender had just been sooner, instead of having the journalists label one the hero and the other a traitor for some snazzy headline? Would there have been less hatred and more understanding for those like Pansy?

Or, perhaps it would have just been too soon for everyone who was still burying their dead loved ones and trying to build back their world from all the destruction that had been caused?

Pansy did make a poor decision when wanting to offer Harry up to the Dark Lord. Voldemort wouldn't have let any of them go after surrendering Harry, but in Pansy Parkinson's mind at the time, she thought that. The Slytherin was not doing it to be a 'massive cunt'. Much like everyone else, Pansy was just a scared eighteen year old girl that had been surrounded by first years crying into her own clothes, thinking they would all die. Pansy's self-preservation was backed into a corner, she panicked, and she pointed straight at Harry Potter as the reason for it all, because in the Slytherin's opinion, he should NOT have been there that night and put them all at risk!

Why was Pansy Parkinson afraid as a pureblood? One would probably think that there would have been no risk for Pansy. 

But, from the young voices that went unheard that night…from muggleborn to pureblood, to Slytherin to Gryffindor, from eleven years olds to eighteen year olds...their cold bodies were all soon lined up and placed aside in that Great Hall. It was no wonder why Pansy Parkinson was afraid. She had every right to be afraid just like anybody else. Pansy had every right to weep over her most beloved person who had died in that very same battle that Harry, Hermione, and Ron got to survive. That horrid scene alone had explained it all to Hermione Granger on why Pansy did such a thing—all from a consequence that came from Harry needing to infiltrate Hogwarts in the small hours of that morning in their search for Horcruxes; his greater purpose in order to defeat Lord Voldemort in the end. 

Yes, it had been Harry who had been the first of the three to openly forgive those like Pansy Parkinson, and how the years prior he had even kept Draco Malfoy from being sentenced to Azkaban. But, the tears Hermione had witnessed Harry have when being interviewed by Lavender Brown stuck with her, including the honesty to which he revealed to the whole world that he used to drink just to wash away what he saw afterwards in that Great Hall. All the young lives that were taken and the self-blame he felt for having somehow contributed to it. That Pansy Parkinson SHOULD have offered him up to Tom Riddle if it meant all those lives could have been spared. He didn't do anything wrong. Pansy didn't do anything bad. They were all just kids who quickly grew into adults because of the war, and there were still things left in between that turned into coping and regrets, but they changed. For better or for worse. Pansy changed for the better and Hermione didn't doubt that about Pansy Parkinson. All those things she had thought about Pansy, it had only ever been things the girl had done in the past, things that to Hermione was meaningless now.

Pansy Parkinson had just been some mean girl during their school days, sometimes even saying and doing stupid things, but who hadn't?

Hermione had long stopped being afraid of the likes of Pansy Parkinson by the time she was fourteen, especially once she had a few more spells up her sleeve. Their third year tussles in a school bathroom that Tracey mentioned earlier really was nothing compared to the war Hermione fought in afterwards.No one knows what bad is, not until they're lying underneath Bellatrix and being brutally tortured for information or faced against any Death Eater that is determined to kill you. Pansy Parkinson can't be compared with such cruelty and violence; something so evil . She can't even be compared to what Hermione herself has done.

Hermione's Goody-Two-Shoes act must have long faded for Pansy, too. The witch was aware of the dark side of Hermione's own moon; her moral righteousness that while could lead a brilliant witch like Hermione to great lengths and do great things, the reality was that it could also eat everything in its own path. Pansy had yet to abandon Hermione for any of it, she could have found a way to slither out of it with the time she actually had, but the night they heard that Rita Skeeter might have found a connection between the two witches, Pansy chose to sign her name on the dotted line next to Hermione's own. The witch took on her own surname and they bound themselves together in matrimony with only a glassy-eyed muggle service worker in his pajamas to witness and stamp it official. Hermione doesn't know why Pansy didn't reject her ideas, and she was curious about that, but couldn't ask it. Not then. Not here, not now. 

"Hermione?"

The dance had stalled when Hermione's feet paused. Pansy curiously looked at the bright witch who had been lost inside her head. 

Pansy's sweet voice brought Hermione quickly out of those memories, clearing her mind from her thoughts about Pansy and of any guilt of what she had done in the name of Harry, in the name of Dumbledore and in the name of her 'good'. 

Finding that her feet had stopped, she pulled Pansy closer to her chest to start the dance again and finally finds a compromise in their parenting that she thought her dear wife could agree with, "Maybe it's better to just hope we can raise a child that takes on the better parts of ourselves. Teach a child to be brave in the darkest of times, kind when one should be, intuitive when needed, loyal to those worthy, but most of all, forgiving to those that aren't privileged to be any of those things," Hermione shyly averts her eyes after that, "That's what I think, anyways."

The corner of Pansy's painted lips turns up into a smile and stares into those brown eyes, witnessing for herself when the enchanted light hits at a certain angle of Hermione's irises turning into a bright amber. The warmth of Hermione's words causes her to lean into that embrace of the dance, not being conscious of her own actions when doing so.

"I think that could be our sweet and loving child then..."

Hermione's heart ripples at the pretty vixen's words, a small part of herself wanting to imagine that life being real, but reality keeps Hermione from letting herself dream of such a thing. 

Both of them knew that it would never happen, even if the current fertility potions made it possible for a pair of witches to conceive a child of their own or to even adopt, Hermione continues to remind herself that the two were only married in name only. There was no love between Pansy or Hermione to have a child together.

How can we raise a child like that in lies? The two only shared a crime that Padma Patil was still in search for solid proof of. 

The dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood pops up beside them, "Lovely indeed, though I find that the two of you might have twins actually," it startled Pansy and Hermione out of their own little worlds and quickly swivel their heads to the bride of today's wedding. Both staring at Luna's baby blue eyes and matching fluffy baby blue wedding dress.

"Merlin—" Hermione removed a hand from Pansy and put it to her own racing heart, "Luna, you scared us!" Had her own brain not recognized the voice in time, she might have pulled her wand on this woman!

Hermione didn't think much about Luna's prediction about having twins, especially with being an insider on how wrong Luna was about her relationship with Pansy. In Hermione's opinion, Luna was of the same skill as Trelawney in divination, which was really a broken clock that was only right twice a day. 

The two stop their dancing once again to have a conversation with Luna. 

Pansy nervously smiles at the sight of Luna having interrupted them. Her eyes wander about the dance floor asking for Theo, likely wanting to completely leave the conversation about children entirely in the dust now with Luna present. In truth, Pansy really just doesn't want to make eye contact with those baby blue eyes in fear that Luna might actually somehow be able to see right through her about everything . It was always the odd ones to look out for!

"Oh, Theo is chatting with his friends," Luna answers, "I had come by to greet your table, but you two weren't there. Harry had to point you out for me on the dance floor—this looks so much fun by the way," She eyes Pansy and Hermione standing close to each other with a warm smile, "I still have to take Theo over this way to dance with me later too."

Pansy nods, "You should, and don't let him try to get out of it, he's actually an exceptional dancer—" She then just can't help herself by adding a negative to that positive by telling Luna her own experience with Theo, "He just gets sweaty hands every time he knows there is a crowd watching him do it, so I wouldn't announce it to everyone if I were you, unless you want his sweaty palms all over you, in that cause, all yours."

Hermione checked to be sure that her own palms weren't sweaty at the mention of that, wiping her hand on her own trousers. She then gives her late congratulations to Luna. She might have an opinion on Theo and Luna's marriage, but it was better to bite her tongue like everyone else. 

Luna beams at Hermione, "Thank you, and congratulations to the two of you! Theo was worried you would be upset by the separate invitations, but we already had them all written up months in advance before your own announcement!" 

The two hadn't thought much at all about why the invitations were sent separately, but now that it was brought up, it certainly made Hermione flag what Luna said. Her brow was visibly wrinkling as the mystery about Luna's relationship had more questions. The invitations were written months in advance, yet we weren't ever given a heads up until they were sent and told that the wedding would be within a month's time? Not to mention, you didn't tell your own 'best' friend that you had been dating Theo Nott for the last three years. Ginny had to find out like everyone else, which was when it was printed in the Quibbler? Hermione then raised her brow high with a sudden thought that she had not thought of before, even though it should have been her first thought! Oh Merlin, don't tell me the three years is a lie, because you got knocked up after a drunk one night stand, Luna?!

Hermione suddenly relaxes after that wild thought, No. That can't be it. I'm pretty sure I saw Luna drink champagne earlier with Theo! False alarm.

Pansy wasn't thinking as hard as Hermione had been about their friends' relationship. The pretty witch waves off the concern for their own feelings, "No, we were planning our summer trip to Portugal, at that point there was nothing I could find to be upset about."

"Oh, Portugal, yes, how was that?" Luna tilts her head with interest, causing Pansy to briefly talk about how their trip went for Luna. 

Catching up to the conversation about their vacation, Hermione is now having to think about how their plans for Portugal actually went down since Pansy just decided to lie to Luna about the details. 

Hermione had sat in the sitting parlor with a book in hand while Pansy was slumped in her own lounge chair while it rained for eight days straight (when isn't it raining in the UK? ). Pansy had looked over and squinted at the title of Hermione's book, 'Before Portkeys Did Our Ancestors Have Portals?'  

"Learned there yet on how to portal us away from all this, Granger? Somewhere with some sun, hopefully?"  

Hermione had been absorbed in her reading, but still semi-listening as she turned a page, she chose to throw a pun at the pretty witch, "One that I guess will take us to Portugal?"  

Pansy didn't groan at it, instead she happily took Hermione's joke as a suggestion "Brilliant idea, let's go to Portugal."

The two witches didn't make a portal, but they did take a portkey to Portugal after bypassing Padma Patil's authority on being able to leave the country for two weeks. While there for those two weeks, Hermione and Pansy had separate rooms, separate dinners, separate free-time, and only occasionally did Hermione look out from the balcony to see Pansy applying potions to keep the sun off while the pretty model hung out by the crystal clear pool. The fraudulent couple could only get away with their separate lives in Portugal, because there was none to watch their every move, besides the sun to glare down and judge them. 

Luna soon looks over at Hermione's quietness and then back to Pansy who still had a smile from talking about their vacation to Portugal, "I really am happy to see you two having found each other—especially Pansy—I don't think you need to search anymore, do you?"

Pansy's confidence falters under those baby blue eyes that somehow were still able to look right through her. 

Hermione feels the rigidness beside her, she lightly glances over Pansy's uncomfortable appearance with concern. If there was more to the meaning behind Luna's words, Hermione couldn't think of it. She only thought that what Luna said was something 'polite', much like how Tracey was earlier, and she knew that Luna was really just being Luna as always. The whimsical blonde doesn't know anything, much like how Hermione and Pansy don't have a clue about what goes on between Theo and Luna behind closed doors. 

She tries her best to continue with her own politician smile since Pansy couldn't pretend in front of Luna all of a sudden.

Instead of worrying about what Luna knew, they should be more concerned with the people like Catherine Almonds that hadn't been polite in pretending like everyone else had. That woman could apparently tell that Pansy and Hermione haven't even kissed, which meant they certainly weren't shagging either. For the amount of lovers Hermione has been with since Ron, she personally can't understand how that could even be noticeable in a relationship. Not when Pansy was a natural flirt with Hermione in public. By the looks of things, something should be going on!

Hermione would have thought that with Pansy's acting skills alone that their relationship could be seen as believable by everyone. It was no different to how Pansy used to interact with Draco Malfoy years ago. Of course, back then, Pansy's actions were only to gain a favorable advantage and safety from the extremist she was housed with that certainly wouldn't have liked the idea of the Parkinson Family doing their kitchenware business with muggle. Some people even to this day still think Pansy Parkinson has feelings for the man, despite how the witch had announced she was a lesbian after the war. 

If people believed that Pansy had been in love with Draco, then how come people couldn't believe that Pansy was married to Hermione for love, and not for them to avoid being charged for bribery and embezzlement?  Was it a crying wolf story? Was it just because Pansy didn't cut her nails? It couldn't be, and I'm certainly not going to force Pansy to cut her nails when she clearly doesn't want to! 

But, the two did have to be careful even around someone like Luna, Hermione reminded herself then that the two didn't know for sure who reported them in the first place. She gave Ginny, Harry and Ron the benefit of the doubt as it would have been a devastating blow otherwise, but Hermione could not do the same for Luna who she wasn't actually all that close with, and Hermione certainly didn't need anyone to add her fraudulent marriage to Padma's case. The MLE officer would love to have more opportunities to be nosy in Hermione's life than she was already being when using the excuse of, "Just doing my job, Hermione, you know how it goes!" Honestly, Hermione would have believed Padma there, if it hadn't been for how quick the MLE officer had been when knocking on her door that very, very early April morning just to arrest her!

Pansy seems to recover this time, "You're so right, Luna, we're such a perfect match, why didn't we just do this from the start?"

Hermione's lips twitched at that response and couldn't help but say, "Probably because you were interested in clubbing and I had a 7 to 9 job—worked weekends, too."

Likely thinking the workaholic was calling her 'jobless' back then, Pansy quipped back to her wife in front of Luna, "Funny, aren't you the one without a job now, darling?"

"..." Shut-up! I'm only suspended!

When they should have been supposedly in a loving relationship, the kitchenware heiress was going around plucking out the hearts and petals of certain witches that would attract Pansy's attention. Actions that later would give Pansy Parkinson the reputation as a charming vixen among the small circle of lesbians and bisexual women—or witch-lovers as the wizarding world liked to use even though muggle women were a dating option too, they were just not necessarily part of the magical dating pool where every witch-lover definitely knew every other witch-lover in the circle. And, as someone who was interested in both men and women, Hermione did frequent the same 'witch-lover' nightclub in her mid-twenties out of curiosity like Pansy had. ' Moonvine '. The name was from a nocturnal flower that enchants those in the night with its sweet perfume, and it was a club that had been an invite only place that was well-hidden in London from muggles. The very same place that Pansy was well known to hang out at on weekends to flirt with women, and where Hermione confronted Pansy with an accord to team up and soar in their respective careers. 

At Moonvine, Hermione would often see Pansy Parkinson sitting in the laps of witches that would buy her expensive drinks just so the heiress would sit with them for the night. Pansy's bubbling laughter would carry to the bar that Hermione would always sit at, and even her praises and compliments would flutter above the music from all the boasting that Pansy's annoying admirers tried to promise the pretty witch with. None of it ever actually got Pansy to go home with any of them, but it would strike jealousy in every other witch's heart when one of them tried. Pansy truly was like a vixen, who in muggle folklore, has only ever stolen hearts and ran away with them. To Hermione's knowledge, Pansy never went home with any of them. And if Hermione was being honest about it, she too felt like she had come under the vixen's spell on those particular nights in the club. A much younger Hermione would fantasize about how she could have been the one to take Pansy home instead, maybe — if she wasn't Hermione Granger, if the pretty witch wasn't Pansy Parkinson...

Luna's eyes suddenly trail away from the couple and freezes at the sight of something. Her usual dreamy voice was now anxious with worry when she spoke, "Ah, I'm sorry, but, I should go, my daddy isn't the best when it comes to the sherry drinking—"

Hermione and Pansy follow Luna's line of sight to find Xenophilius Lovegood weeping and wiping his eyes on the large elephant ear plant that was in the corner of the venue. Hermione couldn't hear or understand what Mr. Lovegood was upset about, but she watched the blonde try to remove her dad from the venue. When it seemed difficult to do, Theo could also be seen walking over and saying something to his own father-in-law to help, but in front of everyone, Mr. Lovegood just shoves the man harshly away from him. The drunk wizard was pointing aggressively and had his teeth barred like he was actually growling at Theo. The man could only back away cautiously from his own feral father-in-law and leave it to the embarrassed Luna to take care of instead. Hermione took note of this extremely odd exchange between the two men, but Pansy begins to tug on Hermione to ignore Theo's own family drama and to continue their dancing.

Unable to question what she had just witnessed, Hermione could only return to the position of taking the lead and wearing her own fake smile along with Pansy.

Chapter Text

Pansy sits on the stool in front of the bar and tastes her mixed cocktail she just ordered. Looking down at the drink, she makes a sour face.

Yeah, that's coconut.

There might be a whole bottle of Caribbean rum hiding in this glass, because that was way too much coconut for a single sip, but Pansy wasn't too picky when it came to tropical flavors, all she wanted was for the drinks to look aesthetically pleasing while in her manicured hand. Though, her only real concern should be for her own low alcohol tolerance. If she drinks too much, Pansy might just slip right off the stool and bawl her eyes out like Mr. Lovegood did from earlier, because Pansy was also a crier much like him. She thinks that if she did end up getting drunk here, it at least won't be as bad or dangerous when getting drunk in a night club. Most of her friends and Hermione were still here and Blaise Zabini was just on the stool right beside her. 

The cocktail she was currently having looked like a colorful sunset, with pieces of fruit mixed in with it. The ice sparkled underneath the floating enchanted lights. It was the perfect summer drink. The bar menu called it a 'SweetBurst Spell'. Her wife might have known the name of it's muggle counterpart, but Pansy doesn't know it, even if she had in the past curiously asked the muggleborn all of Moonvine's muggle equivalent drinks when trying to keep Hermione for a little longer. This one wasn't on the nightclubs menu. 

The long day had dragged into a late evening, as most events like this did with a younger crowd, a dance floor and an open bar that Theo could absolutely afford. The bride and groom had used a portkey to take them to some bizarro fantasy land that Pansy doesn't think exists, knowing the oddball that her friend married. Pansy can't actually say any of that out loud though about the couples reservations to Lemuria or Shangri-La or wherever it was supposed to be , because Pansy didn't get a honeymoon at all for her secret marriage and most would definitely just call her out for being jealous. Blaise would especially humble Pansy by calling her a 'jealous cunt' because Theo actually had someone who loved all of him even the weird bits, while nobody believed Hermione loved Pansy besides maybe tolerating the fact that Pansy had a good solicitor, great tits and pretty face. If only that was enough...if Pansy was being begrudgingly honest about Hermione's lack of interest entirely, despite this whole marriage having been the other witch's brilliant idea. 

And, no, my two weeks in Portugal can't count even though I've told way too many people that we had a blast, when in reality, I don't think Hermione even knew the villa we were staying at had a pool, because she stayed shut indoors night and day! Pansy's friends all kind of knew that it was just a holiday vacay to dodge Padma and the press, anyways. Blaise was already bored of pretending to listen to Pansy about her trip too. 

Pansy glanced back over at the dance floor, there was a good number of people still there, mostly young adults still enjoying the live bands that Theo hired. Compared to earlier, the enchanted lights were more dim over by the dance floor, with fairy lights flashing a multitude of different colors. That corner of the venue had turned into its own nightclub. The dancing was now messy and sweaty with bodies blending and grinding together. 

The other side of the venue was the complete opposite with the bright lights, and instead of a cover song of the Wicked Sisters, there was a lot more chattering and business partners being chummy with one another. Most of Theo's 'friends' were either business partners, politicians, or celebrities, though the latter wasn't Theo's favorite industry to mix with, he only had them in his back pocket because celebrities were the most loose lipped individuals he has ever come across in telling him and all of their fans about the next big thing to invest in. Pansy could find the old dusters chatting among themselves like dear friends, and the young entrepreneurs were eager to be involved with any opportunity that was laid out in front of them. A sneeze from that side of the venue could either collapse the entire Wizarding economy of the British Isles, or have it rain Galleons and fill up the streets and vaults with gold. 

Pansy recognized a number of her grandfather's old friends from the crowd. 

Besides the dance party and the business meetings going on in secret at this wedding reception, most of the other guests were all starting to dip out now that the bride and groom were gone. Ronald Weasley was one of the first 'big' names that people had noticed were gone. He bounced right after his cake eating and giving a brief hug with Luna. Even Pansy had received a very 'affectionate' middle finger from the ginger after she told him there was no need to rush home when no one would be there waiting for him. 

His departure had been followed by Draco and his wife, Astoria. Even now after four years, Pansy was still shocked that Daphne's little sister, the most sweetest woman she knows, had actually married that pompous git and even recently had a child with him just last year!

No one had predicted that, but they certainly didn't think Pansy would marry Hermione Granger either. Many were still stuck in 1994 thinking that Pansy would always love Draco, which was completely untrue. He had only ever been a means of surviving for Pansy that she took complete advantage of as his 'girlfriend', even if it made her look like a desperate cow with how clingy she had been with him. There were no hard feelings with Draco either after the war when she confessed to having been a witch-lover. Life-Preservation was just as much of a Slytherin trait as one being cunning, and when an eleven year old Pansy was sorted into a house that had all sorts of pompous bastards than just Draco who would judge her family for being nouveau riche, there was no other choice but for Pansy to step and climb over every single one of them, even steal a few hearts along the way to reach the most secure position for herself and reap the rewards of the Slytherin House. 

Her grandfather, the ever-entrepreneur, likes to say that a Parkinson doesn't know life, not until they're desperate enough to claw and fight their way up through the very dirt and ash they were born from in order to breathe that fresh air into their lungs and grab such power for themselves. Her experience in the Slytherin House wasn't the same to her family's rags to riches story, given Pansy was born into the wealth that her grandfather built up from nothing, but it was something that her grandfather would commend her for as a Parkinson. It was a right of passage in their family to experience and their very rights to the inheritance involved surviving such a test.

The Potters only left just a few minutes ago, with Harry having to remind Pansy to put aside anything on her schedule for next Sunday as to not miss his family get-together that he hosted almost two Sundays out of the month. Pansy's schedule lately wasn't busy, but she doubted that Hermione would ever let the likes of her encroach on the Potter's 'Sacred' Sunday dinners. It was at least kind of Harry to invite Pansy despite knowing the truth about her marriage with his best friend. 

Pansy looks up from her drink, this time her eyes falling onto a familiar red wine blazer that was the only pop of color in a sea of boring black, brown and gray dress suits and robes. Hermione stood on the outskirts of the politics and business circles in the venue. It wasn't anyone's imagination, people were avoiding that dark spot on the sun that had been Hermione Granger. Nobody wanted to take the risk of Padma Patil knocking on their own doors and digging into their trash. 

In the very beginning of Hermione's career, the gold that had been Hermione Granger would have these types flocking to the bright witch that helped take down a Dark Lord, but once they heard Hermione's progressive ideas and freeing the elves, the shine soon dimmed for a lot of these old dusters, including using their power and wealth to shadowban the brilliant witch from making any progess at the Ministry with her Elf Welfare Office, because it wasn't something that their greedy paws could profit off of. 

Of course, many of those same old dusters that banned Hermione, just so happened to change their minds a little over a year ago about elf rights once their wax clogged ears finally caught word that Hermione's progressive ideas made gold—it didn't actually make any gold, if Pansy was allowed to be honest about Hermione's office, but with the Elf Welfare Office's huge 'approved' budget and the gold from Pansy's maiden vault, it made the cause look profitable, and those guys had wanted in on it, but then Rita Skeeter pulled the rug right out from under Hermione's bait and switch operation with Pansy, and caused the Ministry to open up an investigation on embezzlement and bribery on Hermione, leaving the seedy business-wizards and politicians scattering like roaches back into their dark corners of the world.

Only those from the entertainment industry still wanted to eagerly swarm around Hermione Granger, if she actually gave them a chance—a dark spot on that sun or not, Hermione still caught the hungry interest of the media and of those that wanted to squeeze themselves into the throng of journalists and wireless hosts in hopes that their name could end up in in an article or wireless topic that involved a 'Golden Trio'. It was ironic really for Pansy to actually think about that, the Gryffindor trio were never really that popular back at Hogwarts, but in the Wizarding World today after saving everyone, nobody could go a day without somehow mentioning one of them. 

The warm lights shine down on Hermione's curls, causing Pansy to be caught in a daze by the warmth and vibrancy that exudes from Hermione Granger, even if that perfect smile doesn't fully reach those brown eyes, she was still caught in the woman's rays. 

"Stared long enough, yeah?"

Pansy breaks away from staring at Hermione and to Blaise who had asked the question. 

"Not long enough." Pansy replies back.

Blaise snorted with indifference and took his glass up to his lips. She couldn't say how many drinks he had today, but he had to be reaching his limit now. 

When her 'marriage' to Hermione Granger was exposed from the investigation, Pansy's new reality was having to actually re-introduce Hermione as her wife to all her friends. Only in private would they chide Pansy for her naivety in having a 'loveless' marriage with a questionable choice, because they didn't believe for a second that Hermione Granger was the one for Pansy—Daphne even scolded Pansy right in front of Hermione.

The handsome man leans back into the bar, his elbows casually holding him up on the counter. He sat on the stool like a relaxed king, though Pansy didn't think the position was very comfortable. Blaise only ever sat like he was posing for a camera; perfectly still when sober and staring straight off into the distance. His stark white button up had an imprint of a witch's purple lipstick on the collar, his silk baby blue bow-tie was loose from his neck, and his swirled pattern blue and white suit jacket, the odd one out among Theo's groomsmen that were supposed to be dressed in all white, was tossed onto the bar stool that was on other side of Blaise. 

Noticing the purple lipstick smeared into his collar again, Pansy took a guess that Blaise had gone off somewhere earlier with some pretty witch. Pansy wasn't surprised by the wizard's actions at Theo's own wedding. She would have been more concerned that Blaise was sick if he hadn't had at least one rendezvous at an event like this. 

Blaise's dark skin was rich and flawless, and under the warm enchanted lighting he presented a natural glow. He had a sharp jawline paired with high cheekbones, and his puppy eyes could be weaponized into getting any straight woman to sleep with him—a young Daphne Greengrass once told Pansy that when Blaise tilts his head and focuses solely on the witch in front of him, Blaise comes across as a great listener and emotionally invested, but all Pansy could think to that was, 'Isn't he just looking at your tits?'

The wizard gets his good looks from his mother. Mrs. Zabini was titled as the most beautiful witch in all of the UK and everyone man that laid eyes on the woman wanted to be with her, but with the husbands that wound up dead after marriage, Mrs. Zabini did wind up with the infamous rumor that she was bit of a Black Widow. There was no evidence to prove she ever did such a horrendous and serial crime—from what Daphne had told Pansy, Mrs. Zabini was just a beautiful witch who happened to be cursed with men dropping dead at her feet if they ever fell in love with her. It was still a little suspicious though when you find out that Mrs. Zabini was a master potioneer and that she only married wealthy men...

If anyone voiced the similarities between mother and son, Blaise would end up getting very upset and storm away. He tells his closer friends that none of them should be fooled by his mother's beauty. She was more ugly on the inside and for that he wasn't anything like her. With all the step-dads that came and went in Blaise's life, he had only ever been shoved to the side and used as a prop of convenience whenever it suited his mother. Needless to say, Mrs. Zabini ended up giving Blaise mummy issues, and that pours into his relationships with women in general, the man can't ever stay committed to any of them. 

Not that any of the women around him seem to care about that, because handsome faces make a witch ignore the red flags, or perhaps it set the challenge of 'I can fix him!'. Daphne once thought that too, but the blonde now would only give a 'Good Luck, girls!', Because they were certainly going to need it for Blaise Zabini. 

Even now, there were groups of twos and threes at the venue that would peek over in the bar's direction and try and catch the man's eye. Pansy rolls her eyes up to the ceiling of having women even glare suspiciously at her while she sat with him, that was nothing new, a pretty woman was intimidating when standing next to a wanted and beautiful man, but Pansy was certain all of these women saw her walk in with Hermione Granger so they should really get the idea out of their heads that she had any interest in the man. 

Pansy thinks that only someone like Hermione Granger could be immune to the likes of Blaise's charm. In fact, she knows that her dear wife was, because Hermione can't stand Blaise Zabini. The woman can't stand any of Pansy's friends, actually. Lumping them all together as part of Draco's Little Gang, even if most of them were only tag-alongs or just simply wore silver and emerald back in their Hogwarts days. Even trying to tell Pansy that would be better off dropping every single one of them, especially Blaise Zabini. 

Hermione had actually ended up walking out on their luncheon that they were supposed to have with Blaise and Daphne, specifically because of him as he had been the only one there left after Daphne ditched her. Pansy remembers how she had finally caught up to the upset Hermione on the streets, trying to explain for Blaise, but Hermione spun around on Pansy and shut down all her excuses. 

"Are you seriously telling me that there was nothing wrong with his behavior? When he disrespects you, never listens to a word you say, and only has eyes for your chest—" She sarcastically laughed with her next words, "Yeah, that's such a good friend there—" When Pansy was to open her mouth again, Hermione wouldn't let her utter a sound, "No, you are not his friend! You are no different to him than the women he dates, Parkinson!"

Pansy has always had an excuse for her own friends' quirks and flaws, and it was usually simple to just say, 'That's just how they are'. It wasn't anything that could be helped. She thought the same for herself with that same mindset. Pansy has this thing, that annoys most everyone, that she can't just say something is perfect or good enough, Pansy has to follow up with what she dislikes about it as well. It's been like that since she was a child, and she never knew where it stemmed from. But, that was who she was. 

She was aware that Blaise was ogling her breasts, but it wasn't like Blaise was the first or would be the last one to do so, and it was easy for Pansy to excuse her own friend when he did it, because Pansy knew there was zero thoughts behind Blaise's behavior. For her, it really was, 'That's just Blaise.' 

When Daphne speaks, it sometimes comes across as if she is talking down to Pansy, but that was just her speech pattern. 'That's Daphne.' When Draco treats Pansy like air, because she was no doubt being a super annoying cunt, 'That's Draco!' There was even Theo, he'll outright tell Pansy she was wearing something far too revealing for his own liking or say that the harlots in Knockturn Alley had more clothes on than she did, 'That's Theo!' He was just a man that was very vocal about what he was uncomfortable with. 

Even Millicent Bulstrode...when she was alive...the girl had little to say, but would break someone's wrist without warning if they ever tried to grab Pansy without consent, 'That was my 'sweet' Millie...'

All of those excuses that Pansy gave her friends, it wouldn't have gone over well with Millie. She would have agreed with Hermione about every single one of them, because Millie would have never allowed anyone to disrespect her like that. Blaise and Theo used to be absolutely terrified of Millie—the girl didn't play by the standard rules of dueling, and even if Theo was the most skilled out of all them, he would have been out for the count before he could even grab for his wand. Yes, her friends would have thought twice about their actions with Millie around. Blaise knew where to keep his eyes, Daphne would have some tact, Draco would suddenly find that patience was a virtue, and Theo would keep his unwanted opinions to himself when it came to Pansy Parkinson. 

So, maybe she just grew used to it, without Millie around. 

Pansy's eyes water, but she holds it back like she always tries to do whenever she misses Millie. She takes another drink to wash it down this time. 

Blaise tries to start up a conversation with his current drinking partner, "With Granger's scandal, I haven't seen you on anything good lately—Silkin's was your last cover, right?" The man shakes his short glass of whiskey on the rocks, keeping an eye on the ice as it clinks around when it hits into the glass. "Thought you would be soaring now..." He takes a drink from it.

Silkin's was a popular seasonal clothing catalog for witches and wizards that loved fashion, but couldn't afford what everyone else was wearing. Only rich fashionistas like Blaise snubbed their noses at Silkin's. Pansy's face has been in the catalog more than once from last year, but the cover Blaise was talking about had been back in the Spring. She was still signed on for a Winter issue as well, but that could still fall through if Silkin's decides they didn't want to have Pansy modeling in their catalog anymore—by the contract between them, she would at least still be paid a fee for them having canceled, so that one wasn't a big deal for her to miss out on. 

Pansy grips her glass when Blaise wanted to blame Hermione's scandal though. 

"I'm still signed on with the 'Witchly' for the next three months, and I was told they had no plans of letting me go." 

Now, that contract was a bit more strict, and if it was cancelled Pansy would lose out on a lot more with them. The Witchly was just the short form of Witch Weekly, it was rated on the Witch’s Hour as the 2nd most popular witch’s magazine read in the UK—- Witchteen ended up beating it by a large margin of teenage witches. Even though she tells Blaise that she was still signed with them, Pansy hadn't been given any work since Hermione's scandal. The magazine clearly preferred to play it safe before putting her face back into one of their issues. 

Her agency hasn't had many owls coming in since Hermione's investigation, at least not anything that wasn't asking for an interview on her marriage to one of the 'Golden Trio', which her darling wife had been very insistent that they actually keep the details of their marriage out of the limelight in case they slip-up in front of Padma and the public. 

If she says anything about how everything has ran dry, Blaise would go straight to blaming Hermione, again. 

Blaise talked into his glass of whiskey when he took another drink this time, "Ever thought about going back to those other magazines?" He then lowers his drink again and looks over to find Pansy cringeing at the mention of her past  photoshoots. The wizard didn't care and continued on with his opinions, "Come on, you showed a lot more skin in a witch's magazine than you ever did in 'Strokes of Serendipty', so I don't know why you wanted to give that gig up when it was more stable than whatever Granger's done for you now."

Pansy was annoyed that the gentlemen magazines were brought up twice so far in one day— first Ronald Weasley and now even Blaise?

'It's Blaise…' Pansy tries to calm her thoughts, but she did choose to take off one of her silver heels and toss it at him, but Blaise completely dodges it. While a little embarrassed that she had missed, Pansy had to summon the heel back to herself. 

She grumbles over at him, "Hermione has actually done a lot for me, so shut up, Blaise."

Blaise tries to continue with his point. "Do you not remember your 'Miss October' shoot with Witchly? Granger got it for you, but she didn't really help out with making it less...revealing, did she?"

Her 'Miss October' photoshoot with Witch Weekly caused over more than half of the Wizarding population to buy out the magazine issue within a day since it had been published and it even had to be reprinted the following day because of the high demand for it. Becoming Miss October had changed Pansy's modeling career drastically, just as she had hoped it would when telling Hermione in a nightclub's private room that she wanted that shoot! Pansy had been over the moon when she got the confirmation letter. With Hermione's stamp of approval through the Witch Weekly magazine and the second printing, her agent had been sent several owls just asking if Pansy was open to model for advertisements and other magazines. Because of Hermione, Pansy's floo network had finally opened up for her in the entertainment industry even if the results were from putting her dad's Head job at risk. 

'Miss October' was not originally about having a pretty face or nice body, the event in the Witch Weekly magazine was really about an outstanding woman's notable achievements and aspiring career. So, yes, Blaise was right, though Pansy thinks the man was exaggerating on how much less she wore on the cover, because a mainstream witch's magazine and the public would never allow for Pansy to just be naked on the cover out in broad daylight! The photographer for the shoot had just taken one look at Pansy's portfolio and her figure, and decided that a sexy shot of Pansy Parkinson would sell, even if it was a little risqué for a Witch Weekly magazine. 

Unlike all the more tasteful Miss Octobers that came before Pansy, she had been dressed in a large traditional witch's hat and a very flimsy and short lace slip, and every pose had been suggestive enough to show off her greatest assets in order to appeal to the gaze of any witch or wizard on the street—including making sure that the person would take a second peek at the magazine rack and buy the Witch Weekly magazine issue.

Now, Pansy isn't entirely sure if anyone actually took the time to read her interview in the printed issue, as it was likely no surprise to anyone of why it sold out the way it did, but, the message Witch Weekly spun for Pansy's 'Miss October' was to inspire other witches to embrace their own confidence and sexuality, of course, those like Blaise might have gotten an entirely different message when passing by the Witchly cover and catching sight of Pansy winking and blowing kisses at them while dressed the way she was. When really, it was just Pansy being surrounded by a floating wardrobe of clothes in order to pick out an outfit for a 'Hallowe'en Feast', and the modelling script was for her to admire herself in front of the mirror—partly bending over with the top of her breasts visible and blow herself a kiss to her own reflection before looping back to start all over again. 

Putting aside the fact that Pansy's Miss October issues was ruled as inappropriate contraband at Hogwarts by the stuffy School Governors who were still living in the 1600s—it was just cleavage and my *gasp* scandalous and visible thighs! There was nothing to go to Hermione for and complain about her 'Miss October' photo shoot. It wasn't anything Pansy wasn't used to, including the greasy compliments that neared borderline harassment, but most were compliments of witches who wanted to know what the tailor's name was that did the lace. 

That is...until those kinds of adult magazine offers began to pop back up in her postbox, and Pansy did go back to Hermione asking for help. 

There was nothing really wrong with what Pansy had originally started off doing, it was still a stepping stone in front of the camera, and had been something Pansy could do that wasn't being a bored heiress spending her grandfather's money, but Pansy didn't want to keep seeing it as her only options in her postbox because her reputation after the war scared away mainstream magazines and family-friendly advertisement certainly wouldn't pick her up with that kind of portfolio!

Also, it was just annoying that people who dislike me like to use those past photo shoots against me! Like Ronald Weasley, for example!

Pansy's brow furrowed, "So? I still don't plan on going back into that type of modeling. And, be for real, Blaise, I was fully clothed as 'Miss October'. I didn't take you for someone to be so conservative! If my own grandfather and wife didn't say anything about it, then it certainly wasn't a big deal!" Pansy wasn't sure if Hermione was even subscribed to Witch Weekly to have cared about it at all, but even if her dear wife was, she wouldn't care about Pansy anyways. 

"You were half-clothed..." Blaise corrects, "It's even the first Witchly issue I've ever heard of that can't be shown at Hogwarts."

Heat flows from her face at that 'achievement' being thrown back at her, "Well it doesn't matter at all, because I just took a break to be at Hermione's side during this whole scandal, okay?! Her investigation hasn't hurt me in the slightest."

She took a drink of her SweetBurst Spell again. There was finally a taste of pineapple which she liked, but the strong presence of coconut was still there. Pansy swishes the glass around to try and bring the cherries to the top of the slushed ice to eat. 

Eating the small chunks of cherry now, Pansy goes back to ignoring Blaise, and her green eyes return to what Hermione was currently doing. The witch wasn't as alone anymore as before, her wife was talking to some old duster in out-dated robes that must have been some ministry official that didn't get the owl about avoiding Hermione Granger like everyone else. 

It didn't seem like Hermione would be all that interested in whatever the wizard was saying, but as it was only him that came up to her, Hermione was inclined to listen. Even if the wizard only droned on and on about some goblin rebellion of 1765— Honestly, I don't have a freaking clue what he's talking about, but he looks old enough in my opinion to have been part of that! It was also the vaguest thing Pansy knew about what old wizards would go on about when starting off with, 'Back in my day...'

Hermione's fake smile was present through the entire conversation though, but then the old wizard was finally pulled away by someone else who came over to save the old duster from the dark splotch that was Hermione Granger. Pansy watched as Hermione's eyes downcast and returned to her usual scowl that was, according to her darling wife, her resting-bitch face. 

From afar Pansy frowns along with Hermione who looked about ready to burst forth with anger. But, the woman was likely searching inside herself for that little girl who could sit politely in classrooms, patiently wait her turn until her hand was called upon, and a perfect student that would never question a professor's authority—using her please, ma'ams and thank-you, sirs.

Oh, everyone would love that well-behaved Hermione Granger, wouldn't they? 

Pansy doubts that Hermione will be able to channel that little girl at this age though. Why settle for such a boring Granger? In fact, there was never a patience to Hermione Granger. Not when Hermione has a Gryffindor's tantrum over the mildest inconvenience, the bossiness, and being a serious control-freak. Pansy has only ever seen a Hermione with the strong urge to shake her hand while it was raised high in class, and even heard the dark muttering under the bright witch's breath when she would be looked over for another student that would only ever give the professor the wrong answer. Oh, the smugness that know-it-all would gain when the attention would fall back onto her, knowing it was only herself that could give the correct answer. 

Pansy can't help but be fascinated by that Hermione Granger's potential. The sheer spite of Hermione's and how she'll succeed regardless of others, no matter the cost of what it took, no matter who she pulled down with her, because FAILURE was not an option for Hermione Granger. For Pansy, the thought of Hermione rising up from the ash and dirt, clawing and fighting her way through it all to take what has always rightfully belonged to Hermione was the most terrifying, yet beautiful, site that Pansy can only hope for the other witch. Knowing that the magical current that travels to the ends of curls was only a fraction of Hermione Granger's power, Pansy would no doubt shiver in fear, but she would excuse all the wrong-doing that came with that righteous spirit, because, 'That's the real Hermione,'

That wasn't even just an idea of Hermione that Pansy made up in her heart. 

It was the same witch who strolled into Moonvine, straight past the stool she only ever sat at, her brown eyes dead set on Pansy who was surrounded by other witches that could never achieve even half of what Hermione Granger was capable of doing and has already done. Pansy had been entranced by the fairy lights that brought different shades of color to Hermione's dark golden curls and stoic face, her eyes then fell over the raised forearm and watching Hermione's hand brush through her hair and for it all to fall back like a waterfall; curls and crashing waves. Hermione's clear London accent lit a fire into Pansy's heart, "I'll buy you any drink you want, Parkinson, so how about you only listen to me for a night?"  

There had been an uproar at Hermione Granger's entitlement...but the upset witch that Pansy had been sitting in the lap of only faded into the background music for Pansy as she agreed to Hermione's offer. Pansy always had this fantasy to say yes to anything Hermione Granger wanted of her, only if the muggleborn witch was willing to come over to her side of the moon… buying her a drink or not, because Pansy wanted this. She wanted to be worth Hermione Granger's time.

Pansy had felt that she didn't need to search anymore...

Afterwards, when it all hit the headlines, Pansy had shared this one single moment of how she had been enraptured by Hermione's entire being to her friends. It was true that she had felt something, but unfortunately, Draco's sharpness burst Pansy's bubble, much like Daphne had. The man had first looked to his wife in thought to his words before turning back to Pansy and saying, "Are you sure you're not just lying to yourself to feel better about all this—searching for something in Granger, like you always do with these witches? Millie wouldn't have—"

Oh, Pansy doesn't know what Millie would say, she could only assume very little words would be said by it, but Pansy had threatened Draco on that day to be very careful with saying a name in front of her that his lips had no honor in ever uttering. 

"Scusa~mi!" Blaise uses informal Italian to draw Pansy's attention back to him, even snapping his fingers up against her ear, "You listening to me?"

"What?" Pansy leans her head away from his snapping in annoyance. 

"I was asking how you've been getting on with Granger then—choosing to be on her side for this and all." Blaise again wasn't actually asking about the marriage or Hermione in general out of any niceties. Blaise was still hoping that Pansy would reveal another flaw in the marriage. Especially when the whole career debacle he had brought up just seconds ago didn't work in getting Pansy to open up. She had a feeling that her close friends got together behind her back to have this intervention in trying to get Pansy to divorce her wife.

Pansy kept her words strict, "We are happily married, Blaise."

"Sure of that?"

"Yes," She just won't bring up how very unhappy she was with Hermione this morning and how they almost ran late. The two of them ended up making it to the ceremony in record time, but at what cost?  

Two minutes past nine and the wedding started at ten. Pansy was found in hysterics, no make-up, and still only in a bra and underwear, exclaiming to Hermione in tears that her dress was murdered!

The suspect: Hermione Granger.

How did Pansy know? Because, Hermione confessed that it came back from the 'dry cleaners'. Yes, that's right, bright witch, no fashion sense, Hermione Granger took her enchanted dress to a muggle dry cleaner! How kind of her to do that for Pansy, right? No! 

Why was that a bad thing? Her brilliant wife doesn't understand that magical tailoring ( especially the clothes that she buys ) and muggle dry cleaners do not normally mix for very good reasons. It ruins the clothes!  Much like muggles who have specific directions on how to correctly wash their special and delicate fabrics, wizard fabrics have their own rules too! Some enchanted fabrics can't even be scourgified, which thankfully, her dear wife at least understood that rule, the woman just didn't know which fabrics were safe in doing so...

And for that lack of knowledge and understanding from being muggleborn, Pansy couldn't even actually get mad at Hermione for it, because she knows well enough that you can't expect merfolk to know how to climb a tree, when all  they know is water and that's more water than Pansy knows anything about. 

Hermione stared at the dress she had 'murdered'. "The way you screamed, I thought the dry cleaners had ruined it."

Pansy didn't care that she was half-naked in front of the other woman. "Morgana's tits! You took it where, Granger? The enchanted fabric had been washed, steamed and killed! The enchantments are all wonky now and the fabric—it won't ever be the same again, you can't obliviate the horrors it has seen!"

Hermione was then put through a very quick course about enchanted tailoring, but eventually cut-off Pansy with all exhaustion: "First…can you put on some clothes?"

Normally, Pansy would never come across such a mistake in her life, but who didn't allow elves into the house to do these things for her—even when she said she was going to pay them? Hermione! Who actually does the laundry around the house—including Hermione's? Pansy and Hermione's clothes would thank her for it! Who out of the blue, bored out of her mind, decided that she was going to do the laundry muggle-style all by herself? Hermione!  

Pansy can only imagine the calculations that were going on in Hermione's brilliant head when it happened: 'Oh, there is Pansy's dress hanging in the laundry room minding its own business, I should completely ruin it by sending that over to the muggle dry cleaners where I take all my traumatized and helpless clothes to before my beautiful and amazing wife saved them…' And, who does Hermione give the dress to in order to send it out to the dry cleaners for her? Hermione's personal assistant Wilburn! Born in a wizarding household, yet the guy can't fucking tell the difference between a muggle and witch dress, because his mum still does his laundry for him at age 24!

If only Mrs. Wilburn was there to stop her son that day and save Pansy's poor dress from being massacred! Pansy doesn't even know how Hermione wasn't ever stopped way ahead of time when she first owled Assistant Wilburn, because Hermione's not even supposed to be in contact with any subordinate or her assistant, not when Padma's paranoia barred Hermione from all work related people and thing, afraid that the witch would destroy any crumb of evidence left through them. 

Needless to say, the entire morning was a nightmare between the fraudulent couple, but Pansy hoped her thoughts of this morning were not readable on her face. 

Pansy repeats to Blaise with a smile this time, "We're very happy."

Blaise was definitely the type to think that one single mishap like that was grounds for divorce. 

The man blinks, "Can you be happily married if you don't consummate the marriage?"

Her heart slammed the breaks right up against her chest. The heat rose from her shoulders and spread over her face— first Chatty Cathy and now Blaise? Is it written on her forehead with these sex-fiends?

"What are you talking about?" Pansy keeps her tone as even as possible and does not make eye contact with the man. 

The sound of the ice shifting in her glass takes up the seconds between them before Blaise bluntly asks her this time. 

"You're not fucking are you?"

"How can someone even tell that?!" Pansy was unable to stop her exasperated tone when having to hear this all for a second time.

Blaise has an upturned smirk with Pansy's reaction. "Well, now that it's on your face…"

"Ass." 

With that said Pansy decides to go back to ignoring him, but it does little to help as he now leans closer into her as much as their stools would allow. 

"Oh, Pan-Pan…"

Irritated with him, Pansy snaps back, "What?"

Always giving her that ridiculous nickname whenever Pansy does something silly or even ignorant in his eyes. Blaise had even used it when he tossed Rita Skeeter's first article at her about having seen Pansy Parkinson in the same location as Hermione Granger, something that happened all the way back in January, "Should we be concerned with you and your whereabouts with Granger, Pan-Pan?" —Pansy had denied it at that time, but then the April issue came along to slap her right in the face and expose what she had been up to with Hermione… allegedly!

This time his tone was no different from finding her actions 'silly', and said against her ear, "You shouldn't starve a beast..."

Pansy eyes her best friend in disgust for calling Hermione a 'starved beast ',  "Not everyone is like you. Also, get off me! You're heavy!" 

By the scent of whiskey on his breath blowing into her cheek, Pansy now knows Blaise has hit his tipsy stage where the normally indifferent man starts to 'bitch' about any slight against him in his life, usually that was about his mother, but with the topic being Hermione, Blaise was going to most definitely make complaints to Pansy about her.

Blaise argues back now, "She is." His eyes target Hermione across the venue suddenly with hostility, "She wanted to have a go at me for being a shit friend for looking at your tits—I wasn't…I was admiring your dress." Blaise must still be harboring animosity towards her own wife for embarrassing him at the restaurant back in May.

Pansy rolls her eyes at his antics and lies. Even without Hermione telling her, Pansy knew he had been lying about not looking at her tits because, 'It's Blaise.' Even now she uses her spare hand to block her cleavage from Blaise's sights as he continues to lean into her. 

Blaise continues to 'bitch', as Pansy called it, "How would she even know I was looking in the first place? Because she was looking too!" 

She shakes her head at the drunk, "I don't think that's how that works, Blaise." What kind of logic is that, besides being guilty?

"Trust me. I know that she was. Granger isn't listening to you either, alright? She has impure plots against you. I bet she's imagining you on one of these ghastly tables that Theo picked out—"

Pansy gasps at his wild accusation, "Blaise Leon Zabini!" She should have never taken this drunk seriously enough for any sort of conversation before. He doesn't know anything! "Even if she was," Pansy knows Hermione would never , "We're married!"

Even if he was tipsy, Blaise was only brave with saying any of that, because Hermione wasn't within earshot to hex him for it. 

Blaise throws back Pansy's full name, "Pandora—," He fails before he even begins of course, because that wasn't even Pansy's name, the drunk is just making stuff up!

"Pandora— Who is that?! That isn't even my full name, you ass." Panteley Yngvild Parkinson was not anything she wanted her friends calling her either! She went to great lengths to keep that hidden for the last eighteen years and it was going to stay that way! Not even her gravestone was going to read Panteley! She took the head start in using ' Pansy', before anyone like her brothers tried to go calling her ' Pantaloons ' as a nickname.  The silly ' Pan-Pan ' was better than that!

Blaise raises his finger and tries another angle of getting Pansy to think about divorcing Hermione, "Okay…alright…she may not be a deviant beast, but you are married to a very dangerous witch that none of us want to piss off," Right, like yourself, "I mean she even killed a guy—"

"No, she did not." Pansy shuts that down very quickly. "As far as I'm aware, she hasn't killed anyone." Besides my dress… 

He adds the citation, "Almost killed a guy, sent him straight to St. Mungo's—we don't know what happened to him after. For all we know, he's disappeared off the face of the earth. Or, how about Marietta? She has acne scars that still spell out rat, Pansy. It's horrid. She never takes off her glamour charm even while in the shower."

Pansy suspiciously eyes her friend, "How do you even come across knowing that?" Has he had a tryst with Marietta Edgecombe?

Blaise doesn't answer while he babbles on, "...she's as mad as Draco's aunt was...I didn't want to say this before, but you married Bellatrix Lestrange..."

"..." An absolute horrible comparison! Bellatrix Lestrange is far fucking worse, Blaise! That's like comparing Cornish to Doxie on who has done the worst things. Both classified as pixies, both could drive you mad up the wall—mentally and physically, but only one actually makes Pansy's skin crawl when she finds the signs that one has infested her home. The damage is insurmountable and not to mention venomous. That was Bellatrix Lestrange, that crazy bitch was a Doxie!

Blaise's whiskey glass hovers over her leg, and Pansy had to wipe away the condensation from the glass dripping onto her thigh. Pansy knew that Blaise just wanted to 'bitch' about Hermione, but she won't let him do so that easily!

She gritted her teeth and muttered to him with a low and threatening voice. "You know that is fucked up to even compare the two, especially after what Hermione went through and for the last time, I'm not going to divorce my wife, just because none of you like her. So, stop the intervention! If you didn't act like an ass around her all the time, you wouldn't have to be so scared of her."

He shakes his head and looks back over at Hermione Granger, "No. I just don't get how it could possibly be Granger. Out of all the other witches that it could have been who would never do you wrong..."

She closed her eyes and started to slowly shake her head, as if it could block his opinion out. The subject matter was now steering into something that Pansy doesn't want to talk about with anyone—especially not when Blaise. It was similar to what her father had said about Hermione, too. But, Blaise is only drunk. He's just bitching to bitch, the man can't be aware that he was standing right on Pansy's bottom line. 

Pansy answers her friend with the same words she told her father, "Hermione won't."

Blaise finally stops leaning onto her. She reopens her eyes and finds that his puppy eyes casts doubt onto Pansy.

"You really think you found it this time? Or is it like last time, where you lie to yourself? Because Midgen was a cheat, we all knew that, we all told you what a waste of time she was for you to even think of it. You searched through all these witches to find her—some part of her, and now you're telling us you found it in Granger? Are you sure about that?"

A heavy pressure is pushed against her chest and it almost seems difficult for her to breathe. The condensation of her own glass wets the palm of her hands that start to tremble. She put the glass onto the bar now. 

"Yes." She kept her eyes on the glass, watching the ice shift in the tequila while it slowly melts. 

"Then look at me when you say that." The drunk is most definitely aware that he was touching Pansy's bottom line.

Pansy grits her teeth, but does look up, "Yes! Why are you acting like my father?"

It was not just her father who had confronted her about it. Everyone keeps asking Pansy the same question on if she's found her yet (Does it even matter to you?), or they tell Pansy that she has it all wrong, that she's going about this the wrong way (It's my grief, not yours!), or that she's lost sight of what she's even searching for (None of you have a clue what I've been searching for!), or they tell her that she won't ever find it—not with Hermione, not with any witch. (I'm more sure about Hermione than when I had been with Eloise!). 

Even Luna Lovegood asked Pansy, as if those baby blue eyes could see more than she herself could, "...I don't think you need to search anymore, do you?"

Blaise  frowns, "We all know what it did to you, but I know Millicent wouldn't have—"

Just like she had with Draco, Pansy didn't want Blaise to say Millie's name. She glares at him when she cuts him off, "The likes of you shouldn't ever say her name! You don't even know what you're talking about!" It came out like a hiss, but she wasn't anything intimidating, more like a small and injured animal pushed up into a corner. 

There were things of 'Draco's Little Gang' that were forbidden topics between them, and it was almost like an unspoken rule, no matter if they all did rub each other the wrong way, they usually abide by it: We never mention Theo's dad, we never bring up Dumbledore's death to Draco, We don't compare Blaise to his own mother, we never say anything about how Daphne's sister was going to die before the age of 30, and Millie…they're not allowed to say her name.

Everyone loves to break that last one with me! Out of everyone that knew Millicent Bulstrode, they don't even get the right to speak her name! Not with what they did! Not with what they said! And, especially not when they fled like the cowards they all were, but Millie stayed!

"Really?" Blaise pushed it, "She was our friend, too. Millie was a one-of-kind witch. You'll never find Millie in any of those women, because none of them will ever be as pure as Millie was to you. There is nothing pure about Granger's righteous ideals—so why does she of all witches get the free pass to have anything of Millie?"

Oh, couldn't this drunk go back to looking at my tits than talking about Millie?

…searching for her in all those women…searching for something she'll never have again...something that Pansy had only ever taken for granted.

The scent of death flows into her nose, a sludge is stuck to her palms. There is the sound of war in Pansy's ears. Her tears stain the face of a girl who was cursed and dying—it looks as if the other girl was crying, but she isn't. The girl was never known to cry, not like Pansy, so she knows it's only her tears—it's Pansy's love for a girl that she only ever took for granted. 

A fortress had fallen that night for Pansy, and it was not Hogwarts. A fortress that Pansy had relied on all those years ago when she was sorted into Slytherin. Millicent Bulstrode had been at her side without need of reason or paid promises. She had been Pansy's shield that protected her from all fronts—to spells and to fists. When Millie was with her, there was no one that could break through so easily to reach Pansy Parkinson. No matter if it had been Pansy's fault and karma, Millie would take it as her own fault and her own karma. She was someone who would only ever be loyal to Pansy Parkinson. Accepting and abiding to all Pansy's selfish wills and wants, never having it in herself to ever say no to the Parkinson heiress. 

Pansy had kissed her just to feel safe once, twice, many times, and the other girl would kiss her back. Pansy could guide the girl's coarse hands up her clothes just to feel a warmth that wasn't her own, and eventually lead the hand down into her skirt to even take her virginity. Pansy would always say another girl's name that wasn't there—would never be there for Pansy, just a fantasy, but also a harsh reality to how pitiful Pansy was when it came to love. 

And when the guilt would build up in Pansy for having taken advantage of that pure loyalty and devotion, Millie would be unbothered by it all, and only comfort her, "It's okay."

So little words, that was her Millie. 

That terrible night when the Death Eaters broke through the wards and stormed the castle, it was already too late for a full evacuation.

The old stone had trembled from the magical blood that was being shed, it groaned and wept for the dead that fell to its cobblestone floor, and below, the tunnel's ceiling came crumbling down and split off the evacuation route, causing their only escape to become a grave for some. Pansy and Millicent had been the ones to be stuck behind with the younger students while Professor Slughorn went to quickly gather reinforcements in Hogsmeade, including the promise to get them out safely once possible. Water began to trickle in from Black Lake, and the longer they waited the tunnel would flood. Pansy had been desperate to search for a new way out for all of them. Millicent had taken the lead to clear the way and brought them back up to the surface. The girl even protected them from the Death Eaters who were given the order by the Dark Lord to kill every child upon sight— even if it was their own. Their deaths to be a punishment and message to the Chosen One. 

A hoarse and shaken cry broke from Pansy when her fortress was sieged and every last stone of Millie was used to protect her and the children. Pansy begged, asked, pleaded with the girl as to why— why did she —what was so special about Pansy, so useless, selfish, and not anyone worth protecting? Pansy was cowardly, someone who couldn't do anything worthwhile, and couldn't even save any of the children in that Great Hall. 

A curse bubbled out of the opening of the mouth, it's just a gunk of dark magic. It's a curse Pansy doesn't know the name of, but for the rest of her life after she'll call it an Unforgivable.

"I see…" But, there weren't any words left. An ugly thorn of a flower grew out of Millie's mouth then, coated in blood and a thick gunk of dark magic that smelt of sulfur, as if the Death Eater who had cast it thought a beautiful curse would show his last kindness to his traitorous daughter in death. 

What you see Millie, can someone else see it too? If not you, can someone else show me? Can I even see it?

Millie isn't here anymore, hasn't been for a long time to answer Pansy back. So, she has been stuck searching through every witch she's come across that could possibly love her back like Millie and to answer for her, but nothing. 

No, that's not quite right. She got something.

A heavy weight sunk into her legs, and Pansy realized it was still a lifeless body. It was Millie who had been lined up with all the other bodies that died for that bloody war…she stared back up at the dim brown eyes that had lost her own best friend, yet she gained him back, as if his life was paid for by all those that didn't get that same chance—the other girl stares down at Pansy, and tells her, "I'm sorry for your loss….truly…"

Pansy had held tightly to Millie who was supposed to be there with her always, but wasn't anymore, "I loved her,"  

Her words were raw, and she had felt more like a raving madwoman when having said it. Pansy isn't even sure why she told this particular witch, but she wanted her to know how important Millie had been to her—how Millie was always there for her when those brown eyes could never be— would never be there for Pansy Parkinson! 

Those same brown eyes were then caught in that day-breaking light, and from where Pansy sat holding Millie, it turned to amber. The two stare for what must only be seconds rather than minutes, and then she gives Pansy a soft reply of, "I see." before eventually walking away. 

Those words that were left with Pansy had caused her magical core to tremble as she heard Millie's own voice lay perfectly over them, causing herself to be struck with further madness and desperation as she stared back at the curly goldenrod of hair, yet could do nothing. 

Do you see? Do you know…What is it? Why can't I see it? Can you just show me? Tell me? I need someone to tell me what Millie saw!

Pansy thinks there must be at least a piece of Millie left in this world, and she thinks that once she finds it then she'll finally know, she'll be able to see everything …about herself…about what Millie saw, why it could never be those other witches…why her search for it always leads her straight back to Hermione Granger. 

Sometimes at her lowest, Pansy does think that her search these past ten years has been just a cruel prank placed on her by the three sisters of fate, that she's only maddened by the grief and unable to let go of something she had only taken for granted, and how everyone might be right about how she knows even less than they do about Millie. 

How come Blaise knows it's not in Hermione? How come Daphne has to shake her head at Pansy when Hermione is right in front of them? Does Draco know what Millie would say if she knew of those witches that Pansy thought she left a piece of herself in? How come her father had to rip the little secret notes he found of Hermione's handwriting, and made it all fall over Pansy like confetti. Congratulating her—No, mocking Pansy on her search for Millie, and asking if Pansy realized yet of how stupid she had been in choosing Hermione Granger compared to all the other witches she could have married herself off to instead. To think that any of them might be right…choosing Hermione Granger…standing by Hermione…putting her family name and inheritance on the line for Hermione…was she really just the stupid Pansy Parkinson that they all thought she was?

Pansy knows that Millie is one of a kind and can't ever be replaced, but she's holding out on the slim chance that Millie would be generous to Pansy one last time and leave just that piece of herself behind in one of these witches to show Pansy what she saw—It was true Pansy had lied about Eloise Midgen in order to make herself feel better by not having been able to find Millie...none of the women she met at Moonvine been the one either, but when Hermione came to her that night in Moonvine, she felt that it wasn't just wishful thinking and that the piece she was searching for was in there...somewhere...

'I see…'

Blaise watches how Pansy wipes away those rogue tears that she can't stop. He knows he's crossed a line to even mention Millie's name, no one would ever be worthy to say Millie's name—Pansy won't let them. 

The redness in the corners of her eyes pushes up against that moss green and the flecks of gold take on a watery sheen. There is a constellation in those eyes and whatever Millie saw— it's in that constellation, he'll gamble the little fragment of love he has left for his mother on that. He just didn't have confidence that Hermione Granger, bright as she might be, could solve that constellation and what it all meant to Millicent.

He chooses to take it all back for her, "Forget it. I'm drunk."

Pansy stares down at the slushed ice and she's realized she's drained most of it already. She sighs heavily, lifts her head, and turns to Blaise who stares back with those brown puppy dog eyes that snags at heartstrings, and Pansy thinks that he truly is listening to her for once. 

She tells him one thing from it all, "Millie left it to Hermione." Pansy just needs to find it. 

'I see.'

Will you even want to see me?

Chapter Text

With a bit of boredom, Hermione lifts her head up to stare at the enchanted lights bouncing about the ceiling above her head. After a few seconds of that, she then tilted her head back down to read the little hands on her wristwatch. 7:15.  It was a quarter past seven. Did she really stand around here for twenty-minutes waiting for just one of her coworkers to actually come over to greet her? While a few had been polite enough to give a curt nod her way or even lift a glass up in her direction, only one wizard did try to make conversation with her, but Hermione wasn't entirely sure if the old wizard even knew what decade he was in or even what department he was under—the Ministry seriously needed to set term limits and be more strict with a retirement age. 

With those from the media still present, nobody wanted it getting back to Corruption Officer Patil that they were seen speaking to Hermione. Padma had shown the public that she would take action even over an article in the Daily Prophet, what about just greeting Hermione Granger? The witch might think they were in cahoots with the Head of the Elf Welfare Office. 

Even though Hermione was backed by the House of Parkinson, not even the elite and rich snobs wandered over out of courtesy to the bland ring on her finger, because none of them currently had to show face to Pansy Parkinson's grandfather, Borimir, since he was not present, nor was the kitchenware heiress at her wife's side to make note of the snubbing that could get back to the old and powerful wizard. 

Well, Hermione thinks that she's shown her face long enough at the Nott-Lovegood wedding that it should satisfy the public's opinion. She would walk out right now, only Hermione couldn't forget that she had a wife around here somewhere. The last time she spotted the pretty witch was sitting at the bar with Blaise Zabini.

Pansy had told Hermione once that she actually had a low tolerance for alcohol and that she didn't normally drink without friends or some place outside of Moonvine. Hermione never got to correct Pansy then that all those witches at Moonvine could be just as bad as a wizard, and though the chances of something happening was on a much lower scale, it was still possible!

Hermione doubts that if she were to look over at the bar right now that she would still find Blaise keeping Pansy company. Oh, she can just hear Pansy already excusing the wizard, which only makes Hermione more concerned. If not hitting on Pansy, Blaise would definitely walk out with some other random witch and leave his friend vulnerable, alone and tipsy, with not even the decency of letting Hermione know.

Blaise was the most unreliable out of the entirety of Draco's Little Gang, but when it came to Pansy's well-being,  Hermione would think Draco and Daphne weren't that far off, either. The only reason those two had any decency to say their goodbyes earlier was because Astoria had taken the lead in doing so, while her husband and sister stood a step behind with an impatience that they had better things to do than give a simple goodbye to Pansy, in fact Draco had sounded more like Astoria had been wringing his forearm to say it! Again, with that mindset between all of them, is Pansy really calling them friends in front of Hermione? 

'Well, that's Draco!' Pansy would have said had Hermione complained about him. It would be the only excuse that Hermione would have to agree with, because the man truly was still that pompous git Hermione has known since Hogwarts. But, unlike Draco, Hermione didn't know much about Blaise or Daphne for her to have an actual biased opinion of them. She kind of remembered a few things about Daphne Greengrass from Hogwarts, but Blaise Zabini had been a total mystery. 

That is, until her luncheon with the wizard, and Hermione really wished she hadn't known Blaise at all since then. 

When Daphne Greengrass had left, Hermione honestly wished she had taken notes from how quick the blonde woman had been to escape the brunch with all of them. Daphne only hovered over her seat for what had to be a millisecond before picking back up her purse and spoke to everyone as if they had been sitting there for over an hour, "Well, this has been lovely, Pansy. Granger—that thing you said—genius, funny, profound— " Hermione hadn't even said a word to Daphne, "I'm sure it would have been if I had the patience to sit through another one of Pansy's stupid mistakes all over again."

Even when Pansy tried to stop her from leaving, Daphne didn't give in to her friend's wishes. Her eyes fell away from Pansy then and looked straight through Hermione with a cold glare while exiting the restaurant, "No, you're not going to find her here either, Pans… "

Only after lifting her head from her hands, Pansy had an embarrassed chuckle that was more breathy when she made excuses for the blonde's rude behavior to Hermione, and then the pretty witch just moved on to introduce Hermione to just Blaise Zabini instead. 

At first, Blaise had been surprisingly polite if not a little indifferent to Hermione's presence compared to what she had originally been expecting after Daphne completely dismissed her. Maybe it was just that Hermione had been expecting him to make a snide remark about her parentage or something about Pansy being a 'blood traitor', but he never did anything of the sort, instead it was only when Hermione took notice of his blatant disrespect for women in general, especially toward one that was supposed to be his close 'friend' that she started to actually dislike him. The handsome wizard hardly listened to a word Pansy said to him while his eyes kept to a specific spot on Pansy. Pansy had apparently been so used to the wizard's blatant behavior that the witch just ignored it, chatting with him instead of what she should order; with a menu in hand.

Hermione remembers Pansy asking Blaise a question about if the Fra Diavolo was the same spicy sauce with the seafood she had once before, or if that was Arrabiata— "I had it in the states once, I liked it—the portion was too much though, so I couldn't eat all of it."

Blaise answered, though Hermione didn't think it answered anything, "I'd only take it as a compliment—who doesn't like being a spicy devil?"

While Diavolo did translate to devil in Italian, Pansy didn't say anything about anyone having called her that. Either Blaise had a butchered way of speaking some sort of mixed English-Italian that caused him to misunderstand Pansy or he just wasn't paying attention at all. Hermione knew it was obviously the latter.

"She is talking about the sauce, Zabini!"  

The man hummed along to Hermione and then placed his eyes down at the menu while muttering, "Yes, I do think they make excellent sauce here, Granger, but nothing like my Nonno. Bit heavy handed on the garlic, but he would say there was never enough garlic." 

It almost sounded like Blaise was actually having a pleasant conversation with Hermione, especially from the perspective of outsiders , if it hadn't been for the fact he still hadn't answered Pansy's question and that his eyes slowly trailed back over to Pansy when the witch leaned forward into the table to point out the Italian dish on the menu for him, and that was when the wizard lost his concentration all over again. 

With continuously staring so openly while Pansy continued on about her Fra Diavolo in New York, Hermione lost her temper. Her temperamental magic had cracked Blaise's own empty bread plate, her curls still with the leftover static. The sound of it cracking had been heard by both Pansy and Blaise, and they both shifted their attention to the porcelain in confusion. 

With gritted teeth, Hermione had to ask Blaise again where he was keeping his eyes, "...because for Merlin's sake, Pansy's dress doesn't show anything you haven't already seen on the street!"  The wizarding world might still be a little conservative in some settings, but for a man like Blaise Zabini, a little skin showing would not be anything he hasn't seen before.  He should be accustomed to it. Or, at least be a little more skilled at looking subtle about it! 

"Oh," he replied back to Hermione, nonchalantly, like it was only part of the conversation that they were having, but his eyes did look down at his cracked plate then as if calculating his own odds of surviving with his next words. That was when Blaise decided to spin it around on Hermione to make him appear more innocent, "Yes, the dress is very well tailored—really does hold the 'poppe' up—Good eye on that, Granger! I had been meaning to ask, Pansy, is that MagiCortaire you're wearing?"

"..." Hermione doesn't know that Italian word, but from the context it had to have been a crude or informal wording of breasts. My eye?! It is your own!

Pansy then tried to ease the hostility between her wife and friend. It didn't help. It only infuriated her more that Pansy was letting his behavior slide. Hermione ended the 'friendly' brunch, got up from her seat and told Blaise that he was lucky the restaurant was full of witnesses or he would end up in St. Mungo's like the last guy that had disrespected a woman in front of her and then she stormed out of the restaurant with Pansy scrambling to follow after her with her excuses. 

Hermione should have declined from ever meeting with such a wizard. It would have saved Hermione having to hear the horrid excuses of 'That's Daphne!' and 'That's just Blaise!' from Pansy Parkinson. Yeah, Blaise would have found out rather quickly, 'That's just Hermione!' if he had pulled that same stunt in a more private setting, and even then, Hermione had to leave the scene before she lost her control and went ahead with the witnesses there in that restaurant. 

She can't be too upset with Daphne Greengrass for not catering to her magic show with Pansy, because even Ron gripes sometimes, but the two people that Pansy mentioned being her closest friends should at least treat Pansy better instead of treating her poorly or objectively! 

With that annoying dislike for Pansy's friends, her brown eyes already knew what she'd find missing when turning to the bar and spotting the pretty witch in the silver dress. She swivels her head in the direction— except her wife wasn't alone. 

No, it wasn't Blaise who was with Pansy and for Hermione, it only made her want to messily write down Blaise Zabini's name TWICE on her mental Hex List.

The pretty witch in her silver dress was half off the stool, almost into the floor from struggling against someone who was trying to pull her off. Pansy is clearly annoyed and uneasy by the wizard who had come over with his forceful and one-sided conversation. 

Hermione doesn't recognize him, and by Pansy's actions of trying to push him away, she clearly doesn't know him either. 

Something heavy feels like it's expanding in her own lungs, and her brow slowly begins to furrow with her lips even forming a straight thin line. A current of magic travels from one curl to the next as the wizard's words carry over into Hermione's own ears. 

"Hey, you alright there, love?" The man had a laugh that grinded against her own eardrums, "Looks like you're a bit sloshed, want me to help you back to your flat?" His tone was far too eager that it revealed his clear intentions, but it really set it in stone when the man said the next thing that was a very awkward line, but no wizard in this decade wanted to accidentally step on a familiar tree branch before flirting, "Wait, you're not a cousin, are you?" He squints and bends down a little lower to get a better look of Pansy's pretty features when she avoids him, "You look a little familiar to me…"

Yeah, if you two aren't related, it might probably be because Pansy is on almost every wizarding magazine and advertising in Britain! Not to mention having her face right next to mine, labeled as 'wife' to the one Hermione Granger in the Daily Prophet, mister!

"No, leave me alone," Pansy's voice sounds nasally, like she had been crying, much like how it had been this morning when she had been upset and lecturing Hermione about magical tailoring. There is a pink tint under Pansy's eyes that made it more evident she had been crying, with the non-smear charm still holding up for her make-up

The wizard didn't listen, "Did your boyfriend leave you? Is that why you're crying—don't worry, a pretty bird like you can find better," He chuckles again, "And, I think I know a guy, me for instance!"

It actually baffles Hermione on how any man thinks this is a perfectly normal thing to do with a vulnerable and upset woman. It was as if he was having an entirely different conversation going in his head, imagining Pansy's responses as positive. 

Pansy goes to pull out of his reach again, "I have a wife! I'm married."

There is a diamond ring on her finger if you needed a sign—a six carat is a statement piece!

Hermione's feet charge forward before she could even think rationally for herself anymore, her eyes honing in on the way the wizard grips Pansy's upper arm, the redness forming under his hand.  Pansy didn't have the strength to break free, instead only using her other arm to reach out for her wand that had been left inside her magic pearl clutch that lay just half a meter away on the bar counter. 

Hermione's teeth grind, biting down a terrible growl that wants to escape the heavy feeling that sinks into her lungs. 

When passing under the enchanted lights, there was no amber, only a much darker glint in Hermione's brown eyes. There is something animalistic wanting to break free from her rib cage. It feels as if she's having an out of body experience, Hermione can see what she is doing, but she can't stop what comes next.  Her ears are starting to ring. Hermione doesn't feel in control of herself anymore, but nor is her mind even empty. It's chaotic with the cackling laughter that builds and builds with filling up her head, a familiar and haunting laugh that she has come to know as being her ' Bellatrix '. The should-be dead witch has come to see the show, everytime when Hermione snaps and her anger becomes uncontrollable, and all she wants to do is lash out violently to shut the bitch up. 

The wizard's words could be heard over the ringing and cackling laughter, "Oh, come on," He huffs out a breath, "Isn't that what all the pretty birds say these days—I know your type, a witch like you wants all the attention, right? Let's cut the trouble of chasing so we can enjoy—"

Oh, Hermione doesn't allow the pathetic excuse of a wizard to continue with his words, she's already within arms length; her hand snatches out like a hungry lion with jaws wide open and grips the side of his face and with him caught by surprise, she uses all her strength and smashes his head onto the counter of the bar. 

His head had not only hit the counter, but had his temple smash into Pansy's empty glass that lined the bar with several more. The flying shards cut right into his cheek and nose, and the man had an ugly and gurgling cry. 

Blood starts to spew and leak from his cuts and busted nose, the sight of it finally causes a sudden dazed Pansy to shriek. It was soon followed by a crowd of people joining her after having watched Hermione Granger shove her way through them just to smash some wizard's head into the bar. 

The side of the man's body slides off the edge of the bar, and he collapses onto his knees in shock, his trembling hands rising up to his gushing face, and in the same movement looks up to who had just attacked him out of nowhere like that. It couldn't have been the witch he had just been chatting up. 

He catches the sparks of magic fly off frizzy curls, and a face had certainly seen before, more than once, the face plastered on every tabloid and newspaper for the past eight years since the fall of Lord Voldemort.  Even with his current head injury he knew who the witch was that towered above him, and it was no longer just for the loss of blood that his face drained of color. 

The Brightest Witch of her Age, The Most Corrupt Witch of her Age, The Golden Witch of the Golden Trio, New York Ghost's Best-Seller … a bright witch known for her achievements, her scandals, and her terrible temper: Hermione Granger. 

With the laughter that echoes in Hermione's head and the ringing sound, the noise of the venue fades into the background for her and she only had tunnel vision on the man that cowered at her feet. 

A cold and venomous hiss leaves Hermione as she responds to his fear, "I think she was just warning you about me— her wife. "

From the wizard's gray plaid trousers a dark wet stain started to leak through at just the sight of Hermione Granger, and like many, he had heard the horrors she was capable of when one crosses the witch.

"Oh, Merlin…" He whimpered and inwardly cursed himself for his terrible luck.

A dark chuckle is heard from Hermione, it mixes into Bellatrix's cackle. She mocks his prayers, "Morgana, Godric, Rowena, Circe…Dumbledore, and even Baba Yaga herself— Honestly ," She sneers down at him. "No matter who you call upon, I don't think they're capable of being able to help you out here—in fact, from the history books, half of them would be glad to join me!"

Hermione kicks the man harshly while he was down, right into his ribs and any other place that he couldn't yet cover from her. The weight of her foot presses down onto his cut-up face, while the man bawls and pleads for Hermione to give him mercy. He couldn't even reach for his own wand as Hermione made sure to step on the hand that had bruised Pansy's delicate skin. His knuckles that had been pale were now gnarled and red from the grooves under her dress shoes.

Suddenly, there wasn't a sound out of him as he lost consciousness, but Hermione didn't let up on the man, as she could now hear her own heavy breathing in her eardrums with the amount of energy she was wasting on the man. Her chest rising and falling. The Bellatrix in her head encouraged the madness, screeching out words that Hermione once heard when sprawled on the floor of Malfoy Manor all those years ago. 

Hands wrap around Hermione's left arm, trying to pull her back with force from the injured wizard, but she doesn't budge. She refused to let up. Even when her eardrums sounded like they had popped, and the noisy venue started to flood back into her ears, or Bellatrix seems to fade some into the back reaches of her mind, and Hermione now has full control of her body again, she didn't stop kicking. 

Pansy had been the one to try and pull Hermione off the man, in her own hysterics, "Hermione! He's dead! Stop! He's dead! You're going to get sent to Azkaban. Padma is going to—"

Hermione chuckles darkly with a laugh at that while her foot kicks right into the man's ribs again, "Oh, he's still breathing, he's not dead, yet!"

Exasperated by Hermione's irrational behavior, Pansy cried out,"That doesn't mean for you to continue!"

From over her shoulder, Hermione hears the sounds of a familiar man shouting her name. She was far too focused on beating the man at her feet to know that it had been Neville's voice. 

With the sound of running feet and pushing through the crowd that had built up to watch on at the horror of what Hermione Granger was doing, Neville and Dean both have come over to help Pansy pull Hermione off the beaten man. 

Neville's voice can be heard in Hermione's ear now, trying to get the angry witch to focus her priorities elsewhere, "Hermione, come on, let up! Everyone is watching—the press is going to have a field day with you—Look, look, you're scaring Pansy, you need to calm down for her. She's drunk! She thinks you killed the man and if you don't stop, you just might!"

Dean joins in, "Nev's right!" Though, he has seen many pub brawls so he wasn't phased like everyone else had been around him, not even the blood from broken glass shocked the handsome man. A simple spell would clear that right up anyway. "Let's just break it up, Hermione. This lad knows now he tried the wrong witch. Got him bloody good, honestly. Smash his face right in—"

Neville cuts his old housemate off with disbelief then, "Why do you sound like you're encouraging her?!"

Justin had been just a step behind the two men, and peeks over at the work Hermione was doing, including seeing the large wet stain on the plaid trousers, and looks like he was about to faint too, "I think he's pissed himself…"

Hermione does slow down her kicking then with disgust at the reminder of the man's soiled trousers, and she is finally pulled away by Neville, Pansy and Dean.

Her heart was rapidly beating up against her chest, and she looked over to find that Pansy was again tear-stained and ghostly pale by what she had just witnessed Hermione do. She had clearly taken things too far, instead of just instructing the man to back off, Hermione had lost control of her own rationality and chose violence. 

Honestly, with everything coming back to her, Hermione felt a bit scared of herself in that moment while catching her breath. She brushes a stressed hand through her messy waves and curls. 

Hermione tries to outwardly reassure an upset Pansy and herself, "He's fine."

"..." Everyone stares down at the unconscious man. 

Justin raises an eyebrow, as her words didn't add up to what he was staring at, "I don't think he's the definition of fine here, Hermione…"

The noise among the onlookers grew in whispers and she even caught the flash of a camera pointed in her direction. Down at her feet, the man's body starts to twitch and groan in pain again. He seems to be coming to and even tries to stand up in a daze when he is clearly not able to. 

Neville helps, crouching down on one knee to inspect the injuries. It was clear he had been hurting in more places than just his busted face. 

Dean helps in Hermione's reassurance and gestures at the man with an open palm, "Nah, look, he's good—Champ could still walk this off! I've seen worse, honestly…"

"..." Again, nobody was sure about that. 

Even Hermione didn't actually believe it, she was only trying to help comfort Pansy who was upset that Hermione would be shipped off to Azkaban for killing a man. If from the conversation they had before, Hermione probably won't get away with murder, or at least she might be able to bide herself some time to stay out of Azkaban. 

While Hermione would blame her own madness and bitterness on Bellatrix Lestrange, this intense level of anger has always been her own, including her own spite. 

Hermione could think of several other incidents of using her own fists instead of a wand, but one that currently came to her mind was the first time she had done it. 

Her third year, Hermione had punched Draco Malfoy square in the face when her patience had worn thin with the git opening his mouth. Hermione had been driven by her anger, no control to her own fist then, and was only able to regain herself after spotting the blood spurting from the Slytherin boy's nose. The pain in her own hand, having hit him straight on with her knuckles, had been the evidence that she had been the one to do that to Draco. Not Harry. Not Ron.

At fourteen, she had only felt incredible and even enjoyed the site of watching the sniveling boy flee and scramble away from her. 

There had only been Draco's quivering voice echoing back from the halls of the castle, as he threatened his lackeys with, " N-not a word to anyone, you hear me!? I’ll get back at that-that mudblood, mark my words! Bleeding insane, she is! My father will—"

Staring down at the bleeding and broken man now, Hermione knows she's always had this in her, and her time of being tortured by Bellatrix only caused her to grow worse. Her hand gripped  for those cursed and ugly letters of Bellatrix hidden under the blazer. After all this time, it was still scarred and branded into her inner forearm, the length of the word reaching her wrist. 

Gryffindors were notorious for their short tempers, only because they didn't tolerate injustice to themselves or others that they deem worthy of their protection. That's all Hermione was doing right? Hermione didn't do anything wrong— it was extreme, but it wasn't wrong. 

Right?

There was no way Hermione was ever going to just stand there with polite words and a politician's smile with the facade that this was all some misunderstanding between the three of them after witnessing the man being forceful with her wife —someone Hermione is supposed to protect and help, in name only or not , and she would have done it for any other troubled witch, too. 

Hermione then awkwardly raises that hand to pat the upset Pansy's shoulder who is still clinging close to her arm. The pretty witch was not crying for the wizard's well-being, she was only afraid that Hermione would get an attempted murder charge. In the wizarding world, it was much like the old American Wild West, everyone had a right to duel to the death, but only if both parties consented and agreed to the dueling terms. Only one who is more knowledgeable on the law would say those rules only applied to magic, but this here wasn't anything of the sort to begin with. This had just been…while scary…a typical and trashy one-sided brawl that could sometimes happen at a wedding party with alcohol.  In her head, Pansy was trying to wonder if they could just sweep this away with gold, or if they could blame this on Hermione's PTSD with the MLE since the witch was a famous war veteran. 

The only one to be worried about the man's well being was Neville Longbottom. He tries to hold up the disoriented man, but with the pain of broken ribs he doesn't want to get back up on his own feet. 

With everyone watching and the commotion of the crowd behind her, Hermione knew that if she didn't clean this up tomorrow's paper was going to have her face all over it again. "Hold on…" She grumbled begrudgingly and slipped her left hand inside her red blazer where the inner lined pocket had her vinewood wand. 

Hermione waved nonverbal spells over the messy scene in front of them. She first took out the glass shards that had been embedded into the man's wounds and even stopped the bleeding, but chose to leave the scummy bastard with a cracked rib and soiled trousers. The man winced with a shaky breath and his own hand hovered over his torso. Hermione ignored his complaints. 

The spilled alcohol had vanished, and the cups that had been broken, the large shards like puzzle pieces, began to be put back and sealed together—the sounds of the cups clinking together as they relined themselves all back on the counter. 

By the looks of Hermione's clean up, if no one had witnessed how she had smashed the man's face into the bar and beat him into the ground, it would have seemed as if nothing had taken place. 

"There." Hermione lowers her wand then, and her sharp gaze falls over the cowering man. With her head she nods to the side of herself where Pansy was still clinging to her arm and wiping tears on her blazer—it was Pansy's clothes anyway, so Hermione couldn't be bothered by the wet tears staining the fabric. "If you ever see this witch again, you better walk a different direction from her, do I make myself clear?"

Holding his side and avoiding to make eye contact with Hermione, he bobs his head up and down, with his voice trembling as he spoke up at them, "Y-Yes, Madam Granger—I didn't—I didn't know who she was, " He tried to excuse, "I wasn't paying attention—" Knowing that Hermione didn't want to hear any of it, he changes up his words, "It should have never happened—I'm an idiot, please, please forgive me."

The way he snivels and cowers at Hermione's feet, it had reminded her too much of how Peter Petergrew once begged on his knees, asking her to save him from Sirius Black back in her third year of Hogwarts. The man in front of her now had less rat-like features, but she still looks down on him with the same disgust. 

The many people that have touched Hermione's bottom line in the past knew the witch has always been heartless to those she deems unforgivable, and would certainly never forgive such a man. 

Hermione coldly threatens him this time to keep his mouth shut, "I don't think there is any need to visit St. Mungo's or involve the MLE,  is there? I shouldn't need to come back around to remind you of how your ribs ended up fractured, right?"

He swallows nervously and silently nods up at the powerful woman. The man was completely regretting that he had ever spoken to Pansy Granger, and he hoped to never meet the pretty witch again, especially not when she was married to this Big Bad Witch. 

Putting her wand back in her blazer, Hermione finally gives her awkward apologies to her old housemates and Justin for having interrupted their evening. Turns out that she was the one that ended up fighting at the Nott-Lovegood wedding... She followed it up by saying that Pansy and herself should be going now with how late it was becoming.

She gathered up Pansy's magic pearl clutch from the counter. When doing so, Hermione thought up something, and then quickly summoned a few loose Galleons from inside of it for 'damage control' with the barkeeper. She placed them on the marble counter where the gold coins wobbled and clattered before they settled. The barkeeper stood off at a safe distance pretending to wipe a glass clean for the twentieth time and being sure not to make eye contact with Madam Granger's dirty business. He had his survival instincts on display when dealing with powerful and high-end clients, 'I see no evil. I hear no evil. I speak no evil.' 

The kitchenware princess won't be missing the coins and approved of the action when she watched her wife do it. Everyone else continues to eyeball the couple as Hermione guides Pansy to the exit. Behind them the barkeeper hurriedly slipped over to collect the Galleons with a professional outlook while he gathered up the glasses that had been left out.  

As she walks by the group of people, Hermione finds a hefty camera had been pointed at herself. On impulse, she snatches it from the photographers hand and chucks it straight into the floor where it cracked. With magic at her fingertips the film also went up in smoke in front of everyone. Hermione makes eye contact with the startled photographer who couldn't dare make a complaint after having just watched the woman almost kick another wizard to death. 

He wasn't even the professional photographer that Luna and Theo had hired. With knowing that, Hermione had an excuse with what she had done to his camera, "You weren't supposed to bring that in with you…"

"..." The rest of the guests had been left speechless when hearing that. Who is innocent?! You weren't supposed to beat a man either!

Pansy could only meekly follow Hermione after watching her darling wife's actions with the camera, but Pansy didn't spare the poor photographer a single glance when he looked to get an apology out of her for Hermione's stead. 

With their departure from the room, Hermione brought Pansy over to the unattended check-in to turn in her coat ticket. She slapped it down onto the counter, and a sheer silver shawl magically popped into existence, hovering over the counter and waiting to be taken back. 

It belonged to Pansy, but the witch really only wore it for the five minutes of leaving the house, and then stuffed it into the coat room straight away after apparating just in time for the wedding ceremony to start. Honestly, it was a good thing Hermione had just now felt it in her blazer when she put away her wand or the two would have likely forgotten the shawl. 

Hermione helps Pansy to wrap the shawl around her shoulder, but her wife waves her away with a pink face, "I'm not drunk! I can put this on myself!"

She takes an awkward step back and raises an eyebrow at this response, "Don't you have a low tolerance for alcohol?"  Hermione was aware that Pansy had been upset way before she ever got around to 'murdering' that wizard. 

"I was drunk," Pansy decides to add a past tense to that, "Anyone would become sober after that…"

Hermione corrects, "You didn't sober up—that's just your adrenaline talking."

Pansy scrunched up her nose, and Hermione found the expression cute, even though it was the pretty woman being unamused with her. 

Hermione sighs, "I'm sorry, okay…" Not really. I think I would still teach that guy a lesson. So, she chooses to specify her apology, "I'm sorry that I scared you—"

"No," Pansy cuts off the apology and Hermione closes her mouth this time. "Yeah, you're scary, Granger, but I'd rather have you on my side than not. Of course, our PR is going to go ballistic over having to clear this up—at least it'll be in our favor with most of the public, you know, with us being wives…" Pansy then says what Hermione wasn't expecting, "And, don't try to pretend with me that you feel guilty about any of it…"

So, she didn't have to hide that from Pansy, great. "...Okay, but still, I know I should have thought rationally about it."

Even though Pansy had waved Hermione away with the shawl, she steps back into Hermione's personal space and the two pretend once again with being a married couple while leaving the venue, she even intimately clasped her hands into Hermione's; their fingers entwined. 

Stepping outside, there were other guests leaving the wedding with the venue staff organizing the transportation. By the looks of how people were currently greeting them with polite smiles or not much interest showed that none of them had yet to hear about what Hermione did inside. The Grangers seem to be just going out on a merry stroll together, with Pansy's head leaning in and rubbing up against Hermione's shoulder, her other arm clasping the same arm of Hermione's that had been holding Pansy's hand. Hermione assumes that the two at least looked like your average clingy couple to the rest of them. 

The sky overhead had shades of purple and pinks appearing from the lowering setting sun. There was a nice breeze that swept over Hermione's cheeks that helped with her current mood. The weather was usually muggy from the humidity, but this particular summer evening Hermione could appreciate it. 

The cobble circle drive was lit up by enchanted lamp posts that had been entwined with baby blue ribbons and bows. There were iron benches that had people sitting and waiting for whatever reason they might have, but the venue's entrance was mostly busy with carriages that had prepped thestrals and winged horses for the guests, even a few magic carpets were parked and idly waiting for the owners, and Hermione had even seen a group of witches hopping onto brooms and openly chatting about the flight route to avoid the muggles. Further out in a field employees introduced one of their ministered portkeys for the guests that had come from farther away, reminding them to keep at least a finger on the old crisp wrapper, or they might accidentally end up falling in the Strait of Dover. And over near the designated area for apparition, one member was overheard reminding guests to apparate responsibly. It seems the entire venue was able to mitigate all the drunk relatives and friends of the Nott-Lovegood wedding party. 

The entire wedding was well organized even when Luna or Theo weren't present themselves to see all the guests off. Hermione didn't know much about the venue, but had she actually been curious, Pansy would have told her it was just one of the many properties and businesses that belonged to Theo, and so of course the employees would be on the ball about everything for their boss's own wedding.

Heading into the long line for the designated apparition point, Hermione was instead curious on why her dear wife had been upset and if it had anything to do with Blaise Zabini. She would love for Pansy to open up with her and tear that wizard up!

Pansy groans and mutters into Hermione's sleeve, "He just…" She begins to use the other woman to keep her balance while she bends her leg up from the back to rub her ankle as her feet begin to ache, "Well, it doesn't matter, he just said things I didn't care to hear."

She lowers her heel and the two walk again. 

"Well, he clearly upset you," Hermione frowns, "What did he say that was so bad?"

Pansy's hand that had been holding Hermione's arm tightens around the muscle, "And, what are you going to do if I tell you—beat him up?"

Hermione hesitates before answering, "No." But, if she had the chance without any repercussions from doing it, she would love to punch that handsome face in too! In these three months, Hermione has had the urge of wanting to speak her mind to a number of Pansy's so-called 'friends' that she had been introduced to so far. The only one she has liked so far is Astoria. She would have added Tracey, but the pregnant woman showed her true colors in that weird compliment that has only ever been used to tear down Pansy's intelligence and Hermione's own looks. With a tilt of her head, Hermione does go to add, "Well, calling for a duel between witches and wizards is perfectly legal."

Pansy hid her own soft smile into the sleeve of Hermione's blazer, while her head instead visibly shakes.

"I don't know if this is possible for you, but can you just go one day without getting yourself in the papers…"

"If only… "Hermione groans. "Come on, just tell me what did Zabini do?" He was already on Hermione's Hex List, she'll just get him for something else. 

Up ahead some forty-year old man was drunk and being confronted by the staff that he was unfit to apparate on his own, and needed to take another way of transport. The wedding venue was not going to enable any splinching! The wizard wasn't too happy to hear this and chose to argue on how he was very sober. 

This only held up the line further. 

His body wobbles slightly as he puffs up his chest, burping occasionally as he says, "—No, you sir, are the problem! You're the problem—I am—" He holds back soft burp, "I can apparate with my eyes closed with my hand behind my back and with a quick turn, if you'd just watch me so—" 

"Are you trying to apparate in front of me right now, sir?"

The drunk man held up both of his hands in that moment to plead his innocence, but Hermione's keen eye had seen how the man's wand had slipped back up his sleeves, "No, no, I wasn't going to apparate outside of the designated area, sir — " Another burp, " I was just gonna show you my three D's of travel! Destination, Deli Sandwiches—No, wait, Destination, Detrimental—" Those were not the three D's! "No, I have this! Just the slip of the tongue!"

Oh, this was going to be awhile…

Hermione shifts her weight from one foot to another, even leaning just a bit into the jasmine and berries that made up Pansy who held her close by the arm. She tries again about Blaise. 

"Not going to tell me?"

Pansy stares at the drunk man herself as he continues insisting to the employee that he knew all his D's, which caused a more impatient man to snap back at him, "Yeah, I wager you choke on all of them too, mate!" 

She hides her pretty face behind Hermione's arm, "Blaise was…he was just worried about me, okay?"

Hermione swivels her head in disbelief, "You're upset …because he was worried over you?" 

Turns out Blaise could actually be a decent human being! It only confused Hermione on why Pansy had been upset with that? 

Pansy starts to sound nasally again when thinking back to her conversation with Blaise. 

"It was just…he just wanted me to divorce you, that's all. Really…he…he just…" For Hermione she couldn't hear much when Pansy was speaking directly into the fabric of Hermione's blazer. The pretty witch is still contemplating on telling Hermione, because of the subject matter, but eventually it bubbles out, "Talking about her …"

Hermione feels a dampness where Pansy rubbed her eyes to dry the tears she was starting to develop again.

She didn't know what Pansy was talking about from her sleeve "Who was he talking about besides me?"

The witch's nails dug into her arm and seethed, "He had no right to ever say her name…to tell me that…I won't find her."

Who? 

The nosy guests peek over to wonder why the pretty witch seems to be growing agitated and upset with Hermione. 

Hermione tries her best to place a hand to pat at Pansy's soft and inky hair, but she only had the decorations and laurel poke at her palm. 

Her fingers curl away and place her hand awkwardly back at her side. "Pansy," Hermione tries a different approach to lower her voice and soothe the woman clinging to her other arm. With the eyeballs on them, "Sweetie…" Hermione cringes and scrunches her eyes shut for a moment to scold herself.

No! Why did that one have to sound so condescending—Catherine had used it earlier with Pansy, that must be why it was ruined to try it out at this point. I'm so bad at this!

Hermione tries to recover, "It's okay, whatever he said…it matters very little."

But, her words do little to help, because it seems that whatever Blaise had said, actually mattered a whole lot to Pansy Parkinson. The witch actually starts bawling loudly and blubbering into Hermione's arm. 

She doesn't know what any of the unintelligible words were, until Pansy raises her voice, "He said you're not Millie !"

Millicent Bulstrode. 

By that name, Hermione finds that any words she had just fall straight back into her own throat, making her have to awkwardly clear it while heads swivel over to Pansy's outburst. 

Pansy starts complaining to Hermione's arm again,"...talk about Millie. None of them deserve to talk—they weren't there." Her voice should probably sound harsh there, but it only quivered. "They didn't see—they can't see—what would they know?" 

For Hermione, a broken fragment of Pansy Parkinson came to the forefront of her mind where the Slytherin girl held onto a lifeless girl that was much larger than herself, giving such a gut-wrenching cry to anyone who would hear her, "I loved her." 

Her voice was solid, but her eyes were lost with what she was supposed to do now with the dead girl in her arms. Both covered in the dust from the castle and caked in cursed blood that Hermione could assume was a dark spell that had coated the inside of Millicent's lungs. 

An eighteen year old Hermione had been unable to decipher that emotional Pansy Parkinson, not until she stared longer into those flecks of gold that made up a constellation. The Slytherin girl had put a stake in those ancient and crumbling stones to tell Hermione Granger, 'This is who I lost. This is who died, instead of your Boy Who Lived. This is the girl I love, but lost…I need her…I'm lost without her…I'm scared without her…Do you see how I'm nothing without her? Can you see how much she meant to me?'

It was the most vulnerable that Hermione had ever seen Pansy Parkinson. She was not the proud and confident heiress that she let everyone perceive her as, she was not that 'massive cunt' that attacked other girl's insecurities or mocked a boy's lack of talent, she was a lost little girl that had been afraid of her own reflection, of failure, of pain, and loss like any of them. 

Pansy had held tightly to those battered stones that had once been built up as a strong and powerful fortress, a girl that had battled the worst of Death Eaters in order protect Pansy, even dueled once against the likes of even Hermione as well when they had only been kids for Pansy…never letting a single spell fly, not ever letting a punch go through—Millicent Bulstrode was the shield that had protected such a little girl, and allowed her a chance to walk the halls of Hogwarts as the proud heiress of Parkinson, a girl that Pansy needed to be in order to survive such a cut-throat world that would have only eaten her alive for all the same things Hermione could survive, but Pansy could not. 

It was a loyalty and love that Hermione couldn't fathom, not until she was staring down at the little girl that hid behind that fortress that was Millcent Bulstrode. 

Hermione believes she had witnessed that Pansy once before, on a train heading to their first day of Hogwarts, a little girl that had already been homesick once the Hogwarts Express departed from Kings Cross, a little girl that could only be kept from her hidden tears by listening to an eleven year old Hermione Granger's excitement for learning in that train compartment packed with other unhoused individuals and a toad. It had just been Millicent to solve the mystery behind those golden constellations first before Hermione ever could. 

The eighteen year old Hermione had replied to that little girl who lost her most precious person with a hoarse voice of her own, "I see." But, didn't follow up with the words she had silently kept to herself back then.  Her. You. 

Millicent Bulstrode was one of the Slytherin who had died that day, her name engraved in gold letters on a black marble plaque that now stands in front of the Great Hall to this day; she had been no traitor, she had been no bystander, she was a hero. Millicent had sacrificed her life in the Battle of Hogwarts to save the lives of children, because that had been what Pansy Parkinson had wished for. The kitchenware heiress had wanted to protect the children who, much like her, had no voice in that war and had no way to fight back, not unless they all wanted to lose themselves to that same war that many had died to.

Hermione had heard only after the battle that the tunnels that were supposed to be the escape routes had collapsed and caused Black Lake to flood them. There were children that had died down there. When having to return to the surface, it had been Millicent to be Pansy's shield and wand, and protect Pansy's wish to her very last breath: Millicent saved the children that she could.   Hermione heard a rumor, a few years after the war, that it had been Millicent's own Death Eater father that gave that final curse that ended her life. 

He's not rotting in Azkaban like Lucius Malfoy or Nott Sr.  He was sentenced to death, and it wasn't the Dementor's Kiss.  They say that it was the House of Parkinson that gave the man no mercy to rot, no mercy to forget—he was given the most severe and medieval punishment to feel only pain, until he was begging to rot, until he was begging to forget. Then, they gave him his mercy in death—even if the Parkinson's influence had dwindled just after the war because of Pansy's choice of wanting to offer Harry Potter up to Voldemort, Pansy's grandfather was still capable of avenging Millicent Bulstrode for his granddaughter. 

The story of Pansy and Millicent was one of the many that Harry briefly brought up in his 2004 interview. It had not been his story, so he only talked about Millicent's bravery,  and how there were many who lost loved ones. There was not just one or two sides to that war, there were several , so many people fighting for the right to love, the right to be, to protect their children, to put an end to the blood supremacy, to stand against the dark magic, to just survive…survive a tomorrow, to see a better tomorrow.

That was Millicent Bulstrode to Pansy Parkinson. 

Hermione is aware that it was not a name that just anyone had the honor to ever utter in Pansy's presence. The witch had an avoidance of it herself, especially with her friends. The emotional shift that happens between all of them over it or completely redacting Millicent's name when it became a topic. Even to Pansy's own irritation that she tries to hold back while in Hermione's presence—

Blaise must have pushed Pansy into having a conversation about it. 

"...he just wanted me to divorce you…"

"He said you're not Millie!"

That suddenly reminds Hermione of the subtle remarks from Daphne back in May. She had been talking about Millicent then too, wasn't she? What was there to find?

"No, you're not going to find her here either, Pans… " 

The two would be right. Hermione Granger wasn't Millicent Bulstrode. The Slytherin girl would have never wronged or implemented Pansy like she was doing now. Hermione could never be able to replace the girl that Pansy had been in love with, still loves dearly, even now unable to let her go. 

Oh, Hermione knows that the Slytherin girl would have absolutely hated the very idea of Pansy ever helping Hermione, and if Millicent were alive to see it, none of this would have ever happened.  Millicent would have blocked Hermione's attempt of ever making a deal with the Parkinson heiress. 

Hermione suddenly feels a ghostly ache on the back of her neck. Oh, yes, there would have definitely been threats and putting me into a chokehold for even having the gall. 

Millicent Bulstrode was like a mountain, broad shouldered, sturdy, but also cunning and mean , but… she was good to Pansy Parkinson. Hermione knew that very well. Millicent wasn't someone Hermione ever got along with and their acts of fighting would only ever consist of the Slytherin girl winning one way or another. 

If Hermione ever thought for a second that she ever won a duel against Millicent by disarming the girl or confident that she was skilled enough to take on the other girl—the bulky Slytherin girl would have thrown Hermione over her shoulder so fast that it would have made Hermione's head spin.  

Because Millicent didn't care if you had a wand, she had one too and could actually use it, but, if she thought you were slow and unable to dodge her grapple at any point—you could say goodbye to the slim chance of winning and say hello to your own head getting shoved into the toilets! 

Yeah, twelve year old Hermione Granger had learned quickly enough that if she was going to have a go with Pansy while Millicent was around, it was best not to ever smart mouth Pansy anywhere near the girl's lavatory after she witnessed Mandy Brocklehurst's face splash straight in the bowl.

Millicent's good old fighting tactic was one Hermione kept in her own back pocket if she were to ever lose her own wand in a duel, because it was better to be in an outright brawl, and never let her opponent get the upper hand. It was so easy to take a wizard by surprise before one got the chance to ever use their 'silly wand waving '. Millicent was much larger than Hermione by muscle mass alone so there would obviously be more wins for the Slytherin girl than herself if using that tactic, but since the war Hermione tried to stay fit enough, not wanting to ever be caught underneath another Bellatrix Lestrange again. 

Millicent could even be thanked for unknowingly keeping Hermione out of the Slytherin common room. Hermione was obviously unable to polyjuice into Pansy second year for their covert mission to find out if Draco was the Slytherin heir. Millicent would have broken her arm if she even had the thought of thinking she could steal a strand of Pansy's hair. Millicent did put Hermione into a chokehold when the two had dueled it out during just a 'practice' duel, causing Hermione to at least take a the Slytherin girl's 'hair'—Hermione's plans got quickly thwarted by the hair fiber actually being fur that belonged to Millicent's cat, Mittens. 

At twenty-seven, Hermione still can't get over how embarrassing it was to tell Madam Pomfrey the excuse and lie about a transfiguration spell that had gone drastically wrong and being lectured by Professor McGonnagall about the severity of animal transfiguration. 

Third year was not the first or last time Millicent came after Hermione Granger in a surprise attack, either. Another memory of the girl was in sixth year where Millicent stormed straight into the library one late evening and caused them both to lose 40 points for their Houses and, the worst part for Hermione, being banned from the library for two weeks. How could Hermione show her face to any of her friends after having to tell them she was banned from accessing the library for two weeks?! When Professor McGonnagall asked why the Slytherin girl had the nerve to disturb the peace and quiet to punch Hermione out of nowhere, Millicent used the shortest response possible, "She upset Pansy…"

By sixth year the two girls avoided each other, and there was very little chance for anything to even happen, so if Hermione's existence alone was upsetting Pansy…or if she ever actually said something that upset the sixth year girl, Hermione doesn't remember it and Millicent certainly never clarified further on the matter with her. She wonders if Pansy even knew about it or remembered why Millicent did it. It was never about her being muggleborn, Hermione knew that now at least. Well…No, Hermione doesn't know if Millicent's dislike for herself was partly because of her muggle parentage, but Hermione knew it was all for Pansy Parkinson. So, the Slytherin girl could have easily acted rogue at times and done things for Pansy without the kitchenware heiress ever knowing. 

By Pansy's overwhelming tears, and still crying into the sleeve of Hermione's arm she knows that the witch was still grieving these last ten years, and Millicent would always be important to her. With all those witches that Pansy would tease, kiss their cheeks and sit in their laps— while an early twenties Hermione Granger compared herself to them, did Pansy only ever compare them with Millicent Bulstrode?

Hermione didn't know what was best about how to comfort Pansy right now. For herself, Hermione likes to be held when she is feeling down, but it's a bit embarrassing with all the eyes on them now to try that move. What if Pansy suddenly shoves her away? How awkward would that be? This wasn't something that a pat on the shoulder could help with, because Hermione did want to comfort the upset Pansy, not be like Ron or Harry with a 'There, There'. 

Hermione had upset Pansy this morning and she was able to get Pansy to stop the tears, but only because Hermione was able to distract her darling wife by letting her actually cram knowledge of fabrics into her head, until of course Hermione's will couldn't hold out anymore with pretending the pretty witch wasn't walking around in her underwear . Not even I'm a saint, Pansy! The ruined red dress was an easy fix though too, there were countless other dresses in Pansy's wardrobe to choose from. There was no Millicent Bulstrode here for Hermione to bring back or replace for Pansy…

She certainly didn't have anything personally nice to say about Millicent besides the Slytherin girl having a nasty swing straight into someone's gut— a compliment as long as it wasn't Hermione's own gut being punched…

A hero , Hermione supposes would be the best thing to say about Millicent from her final hour or even to say that the Slytherin girl loved Pansy, dearly , a devotion that went beyond anything that any other witch could give Pansy. 

The covetous part of Hermione's heart that gets caught up in those gold stars doesn't want to say any of that about Millicent though either, but Hermione can only bitterly laugh at that little fraction of her heart that she has to remind, Who do you think we are—have a little sense, won't you?

With the drunk wizard in front of them finally being thrown into a carriage with other relatives, Hermione was being gestured to come forward in line by the venue's staff. 

She just had to figure out how to get Pansy to walk up with her…. With so many people eyeing them, Hermione can't just heartlessly tell her obviously upset wife that they were holding up the same apparition line and to snap out of it! 

Hermione tries to coax Pansy to the apparition point, keeping her voice gentle and low, "Pansy…How about we head home? You can take a sober potion, and I'll help put you to bed, okay?"

She goes again in trying to pet Pansy, letting the hair accessories prick at her own palms while trying to console this kitchenware princess as best as she could. 

Pansy thankfully doesn't dodge the attempt at consoling her and having her walk forward. She still clings tightly to Hermione's arm, and hides her face into the blazer from all the nosy eyes that were watching them.  

The employee eyes the emotional drunk and then glances at Hermione with some concern,"Are you sure you're capable of side-apparating, Madam Granger?" Hermione's face was obviously recognized by the employees of the venue. "Mrs. Granger will get splinched if she doesn't hold onto you properly."

"..." Excuse me! She is strangling me like Devil's Snare right now! How is she not holding on properly?!

"She's good." Hermione answers just as the upset Pansy starts to bawl even louder from the words that the employee had placed into the drunk's head. 

Pansy with a shrill voice, "No, I don't want to be splinched!"

If not before, all heads now turn to Hermione, even the ones out near the field are looking this way! She felt the heat on her own face. Of course, with Hermione having made a scene inside, her own dear wife has to make a scene outside! Oh, aren't we just perfect for each other?! The sarcasm drips off such a thought.

Hermione glares at the employee. Look at what you've done! The wizard slightly trembles at the glare, but keeps his professional appearance.  

She tries to fix this situation for herself, "Don't listen to him. You're fine, Pansy! I've only ever splinched one person in my entire life—as long as you don't move, you won't end up like Ron!"

Hermione hates that she has to admit that the perfect record she had wanted since getting her apparition license at seventeen failed like eight months in when trying to escape Death Eaters!

"No!" Pansy whines in disgust at just the mention of Ronald Weasley, "It's bad enough we liked the same person. I don't want to share being splinched with him by you too!"

Someone just behind them snorts out a laugh while having to hear Pansy's complaints.  

Are you serious right now?! You are that dedicated to having very little in common with Ron even while drunk?! You don't even like the same person! But, thank you, my darling wife, for not giving it away that you don't like me!

Hermione did her best not to roll her eyes at this kitchenware princess's dramatic response to getting splinched, "Okay, great, so we're in agreement. Don't try to move away from me mid-apparating and you won't turn out like Ron." But her ugly tone about the matter did very little to help for Pansy's comfort,

The pretty witch was offended by Hermione's lack of empathy, and it made Pansy feel even worse, "Do you not know how to console me at all—even just a little bit!?" Who wants to hear about Ronald Weasley? Hermione couldn't even stick to an endearing pet name that didn't sound like some bloke off the street. "I am your wife!"

What do you think I have been doing this entire time even though you're crying about your ex in front of me?! Hermione had to calm her frustration on that, because while it was an ex, it was someone who had died.   But, it's not like she was Harry or Ron, and only gave Pansy a ' there, there ' on the back! She was actually trying with Pansy here!

Hermione remains as patient as she could possibly be even though Pansy called her out in front of everyone, "Yes, you are my dear and darling wife…" My clearly drunk wife , "I'm trying to reassure you—if this guy had just kept his mouth shut!" Hermione angrily turns on the wizard who completely made everything worse with the drunk Pansy that gets upset over the slightest inconvenience that was her life!

The staff member didn't think this was his problem, "Madam Granger, how about you calm her down first before side-apparating? We only want all travelers to be safe when leaving here without any accidents." 

Hermione squeezes the bridge of her nose to ease her second oncoming headache named Pansy Parkinson, but takes a breather in that herself—honestly, it was her fault for stirring Pansy up by asking about it, but she would rather like to blame Blaise Zabini for the entire situation now. Hermione was putting the man's name down thrice for her Hex List to make herself feel better. Next time she catches Blaise Zabini, his handsome face won't be leaving the house for quite some time! Marietta's RAT will look cute compared to what she had planned for him!

When leaving the apparition line all the judging eyes continued to follow the couple to see what Hermione would do in this situation—' you can't even console your own wife?'

"..." Mind your own business!

She leads Pansy over toward one of the iron garden benches. Hermione takes a seat first. With Hermione sitting and Pansy still standing, she has to look up at the upset witch. 

Her hand takes Pansy's hand again, tugging on the pretty witch to come closer to where her  brown eyes make direct contact with Pansy's starry green—close enough to where Hermione could count those flecks of gold, and with her voice low for others not to overhear, she whispers to the other witch,"Are you trying to compete with me for who is going to make the headlines tomorrow morning, Parkinson—you actually think I'm going to splinch you?"

Pansy leans her weight into Hermione now so she doesn't have to continue standing much with her heels on, "No," Her voice nasally again, "It's you! You're front page news, not me." 

What was this, 'I'm rubber and you're glue' nonsense?  

The scent of berries and jasmine goes well with the citrus and coconut that Pansy breathes out to tickle at Hermione's own skin and the vixen seems able to paw at Hermione's heart again despite hearing the words about being on the front page news. 

Pansy pouts and says more, "It'll be all about how you're not doing a very good job at consoling me after killing a man in broad daylight, Granger…"

"…" Don't you add more nonsense to that!

The light from the enchanted lamp posts causes the diamond and silver decoration in Pansy's hair to sparkle and it makes Hermione look over the soft pink under those constellations or the ruddiness from that scrunched up button nose that made Pansy look cute just then. 

"Help me out then," Hermione patiently asks now, only wanting to coax Pansy, "What can I do to make you feel better and go back home with me?"

Pansy's fingers tap against the back of Hermione's hand that holds her own, the witch does seem to be thinking up something. 

"Okay…I want a bubble bath." Pansy finally says to her, slinking her weight further onto Hermione as if the two might hug, "lots of bubbles."

Hermione was a bit surprised by this simple answer, "A bubble bath." She tried to ignore the heat that ignited in her heart from Pansy's intimate movements. 

It was a simple thing. It wasn't riches, kisses or for Hermione needing to promise this kitchenware heiress endless things— it was just a bubble bath? A laugh slips out of Hermione's lips from the thought of that. She definitely just dodged a stun spell with that one.

Pansy nods, "Yeah, promise me a bubble bath." A cute smile starts to lift up when catching Hermione's soft laugh, and then her eyelids seem to hood the constellations as she leans in, further, whispering a bit more sultry, "And then, I'll go home with you, Granger…"

Hermione started to feel a fire in her start to do gymnastics, flipping with eagerness and her heart rattled around in its cage at how exciting those words sounded. This damn vixen! Can she not make it sound like that? She does know that the house is in the Parkinson Family name, right? Who is going home with who here?!

Hermione knew she had to block and guard against the charm of Pansy Parkinson. 

With Pansy's poor attempt at charming Hermione, she curiously looks up at those mossy green eyes and where she could count the flecks of gold within, "Do you tell all the witches that kind of line?"

"I get promises all the time just to go home with one."

"But," Hermione knew, "You never do."

"No, none of them could keep their promise." Pansy finally wraps her arms around Hermione's neck and the hot breath teases Hermione's ear. "They would say anything just to get me to spend a night with them, but you're Hermione Granger, you're different from them, you're the only one I've ever gone home with, and you'll give me the bubble bath, won't you?"

Hermione swallows down the heat and replies back to that temptation named Pansy Parkinson, "A bubble bath is an easy promise to keep."

She knows that Pansy isn't the serious sort with her flirting, especially the amount of times of it never going anywhere, The reminder that Hermione was indeed 'Hermione Granger' only made Pansy feel safe in the idea of being able to flirt, since Hermione would never be attracted to her —even if Hermione was attracted, love was certainly off the table.

Hermione feels Pansy's sweet grin against her cheek when a giggle slips out, the two looking much like what she would find in Moonvine where Pansy would be whispering into some other witch's ear—the several witches that Pansy must often compare with the witch that Pansy's heart loved: Millicent Bulstrode. 

"He said you're not Millie!"

No, Hermione Granger would never be Millicent Bulstrode.

But, Hermione was curious on what exactly it was that Pansy was looking for in all those witches. Hermione can guess that it has yet to be found, just by how Pansy dropped them like seasonal fashion robes—never even buying or taking said clothing out of the store even after trying it on. Will Pansy ever find Millicent? Was the scandal and being married to Hermione, keeping Pansy from that search?

"Let's go home, 'Mione." Pansy has cheered up enough by expecting a bubble bath at home. 

Hermione starts to stand up from the bench, "Yeah."

Chapter Text

Distorting time and space to travel from the venue's designated apparition area, Hermione's soles land peacefully and safely onto the circle cobblestone drive that had a beautiful manor in front of the two witches.

It wasn't anything too extravagant, but the 5,000 square feet of it was more than what she was normally used to—her one bedroom and one bath flat was a closet compared to it and her childhood home in Hampstead Garden Suburbs was only half the size of this mansion. Her parents had been dentists, considered middle class and had a bit of money, but the Granger's had nothing on all the properties that the Parkinson Family owned and maintained. This manor was a congratulatory gift to Pansy from her grandfather for their 'marriage'. 

The small manor was nestled into the middle of a green valley where the Parkinson Family raised a plum orchard, giving it the address of Parkinson Plum Manor.  It was late in the evening, but one could still see a silhouette of the orchard off in the distance. Hermione had only strolled in it once when touring the property back in April, and it would be time to harvest the orchard soon. 

There was a large front garden that wrapped the cobblestone. Well-maintained green shrubbery and a mix of pretty flowers that bloomed with the seasons led up to the manor that was built up of white stone and marble. There was a glossy red front door with an eloquent brass peony flower that was a door knocker. The peony was part of the Parkinson Family's crest and compared to the scenery here, the Parkinson's Ancestral home was covered in peonies. 

The property hummed with wards and hidden spells that protected the manor from prying muggle eyes and uninvited guests, just the typical magic that most wizarding homes had cast. Hermione was even bound to the magical house—she could connect to it with her own magical blood and weave whatever spell she needed out of comfort with little effort; from lighting up a room to even magically changing the thermostat to Hermione's needs; including the borrowing connection to the Parkinson library at the Ancestral manor. 

The library might not have the vast knowledge like the Hogwarts library, nor anything dark lurking in the bookshelves like in the Black Family's library, but it was well stocked and had a few untranslated journals that could help in her research on the current book she was supposed to be writing—only downside was that it was all in early Cyrillic alphabet. Hermione wasn't knowledgeable enough to even translate that with magic. Pansy could cook up an old Bulgarian family dish that once belonged to her great-great-grandmother, but couldn't even read the recipe back to Hermione, so she couldn't expect her own darling wife to translate medieval Cyrillic back to her either. She would have better luck asking the Bulgarian portraits that knew a little bit of English that were scattered around the manor. 

Honestly, Hermione didn't think that Pansy at this time could even tell her what her father's hellhound's name was. The pretty witch was still tipsy, even if she argued that she was sober. Pansy leaned into Hermione complaining about her sore feet. She even looks a bit queasy from the travel of choice, but holds herself together to not throw up all over Hermione and the doormat. 

Thank you for being considerate!

With the trace of both of their magic, the front door unlocked and the two stepped through the open glossy red door and into the foyer.

Stepping over the threshold caused the manor to slowly light up the enchanted lamps and chandelier to welcome its mistresses back home. Hermione out of habit rubbed the bottom of her feet on the runner, before stepping onto the marble tile of the foyer. 

The entrance was mostly decorated with an umbrella stand and hooks to line their coats and robes. There had been garden boots stashed in the corner that belonged to Hermione. She would often quickly slip them on and take a stroll about the manor's vast property and garden with her thoughts. Pansy would complain that the boots need to be placed in the sunroom stationed at the back of the manor though.There was a glass backdoor that led directly out into the wide back garden of bloomed trees and a koi pond, but Hermione preferred the more scenic route with her stroll when she went out the front. 

Inside was mostly more decorated to Pansy's tastes than her own, because Hermione left her furniture back at her own flat, and never 'officially' moved in, so the sitting room that the two pass the doorway of was without her mustard yellow sitting chair that she liked to curl up in. Traditionally, that was where the manor had the guests wait for the owner to arrive, but there were no house-elves to follow it to care for such rules. The sitting room had uncomfortable chaises to place the unwanted guests and reading chairs that none of them actually sat in, but a pretty wizarding chess was displayed between those chairs. It was made up of crystalline glass and it would sparkle under the warm glow— always unused, as Hermione didn't care much for chess even if she knew how to play, but she admired the craftsmanship of the glass carvings whenever she did enter the room out of boredom.

To the opposite side of the sitting room was an unlit dining room that the two witches didn't ever eat in either, but the porcelain plates and glasses branded with the Parkinson crest sat out on display on that long mahogany table, just waiting to be washed and eaten upon.  

Hermione once peered inside and asked if it was necessary to leave such things out when they didn't have plans to dine at such an extravagant table together, usually eating in the kitchen at a breakfast table.

Pansy had replied, "Don't worry, that's not even the best set in the house. If you want to eat off fine dining, Granger," There had been a pause as if Pansy was holding herself back, before eventually pointing off the kitchens, "Go check the Parkinson cabinet, pick one and we'll plate with it!"

Hermione didn't care about fine dining and dishware, she was just curious about the pretentious decor. She didn't have to question what a Parkinson Cabinet was at least. Hermione learned in her adult life that from time to time, wizarding families would actually call the dish-hutch a 'Parkinson' , showing how popular and good quality the Parkinson Kitchenware and Crockery was in the wizarding world, and even the Weasley's had a few bowls. In her youth she never knew or cared before about the type of money the Parkinson Family had compared to the Malfoys, but it was in her face every single day now more than back then.

Down the hall was another part of the manor with other rooms and the kitchens on the ground floor, but Hermione was guiding Pansy up the white staircase that was placed out of the foyer and up against a wall that displayed picture frames of family and paintings of the Parkinson ancestors, some even of the Bulgarian side, though most of these particular paintings didn't speak much with their lack in magical quality from when Pansy's ancestors were not as fortunate to afford such luxuries; mostly only living in their own acrylic worlds with not much care to where their frames were hung up on the wall. 

One of the photographs out of the corner of Hermione's eye was of a little Pansy Parkinson in greyscale dressed in a sailor-style dress and standing in front of lighthouse on a windy day, dark strands of hair fluttering about and wearing a gloomy expression with arms crossed for the photographer. Pansy had looked no older than seven years old. Hermione had asked about why there was a picture of her frowning during her tour of the manor before, and the pretty witch had groaned, 

"I wish they kept that in the Ancestral Home—I loathed that outing. I spent it with my brothers and cousins—can you imagine being the youngest and only girl out of all boys? I was always the odd one out in their rules and games—jealous, I'm sure they all were, as my grandfather adores me more!"

Hermione returns her attention back to the drunk Pansy, "Watch your step,"

Pansy pauses with one hand leaning into the one side railing, "Let me just take off my heels first—the anti-blister charm wore off like two hours ago…" 

Her shawl partly slipped from her shoulders, as she lifted up her heels one at a time to take them off, Hermione's own hand held Pansy by the waist so the witch wouldn't lose her balance on the steps. 

The two then watched the silver heels begin to tumble down the steps with Pansy's lack of interest in where they landed, only sighing in relief that she was finally free of them. 

With the shoes being in a dangerous location of being just at the end of the stairs, Hermione chose to summon the heels back up to them, letting the shoes hover and float alongside them while traveling through a hallway filled with more paintings and decorations that had originally came from the Ancestral Home's attic and storage.

There were rooms up here that Hermione actually didn't spend much time in besides her own bedroom or the bathroom. She was aware that one was an extra spare closet for Pansy's seasonal clothes and there was an office that was connected to the floo network that Pansy would use as a quick get-away instead of using the fireplace on the ground floor. Hermione has only used it twice to send herself to the Parkinson's Ancestral manor when she had been summoned by owl to speak with the Head of the Parkinson Family. 

Hermione's bedroom door has been closed since she left this morning. Behind it was scattered parchment and books that cluttered up a desk. There was a partly empty wardrobe and little else in the room, as Hermione's things were still left at her flat. 

The two kept heading directly to Pansy's bedroom—the primary bedroom of the manor with an ensuite and walk-in wardrobe. As wife and wife, Hermione should have been sharing it with Pansy, but as they were in name only, she didn't sleep there. She has walked into the bedroom a few times since having moved in, and only the first three times it had been awkward when visiting.

Hermione pushes the door open.

Pansy slinks away from Hermione's arm, and goes to sit on the edge of the white ottoman bench that was at the end of a large bed with a matching upholstered headboard. 

She slips off her shawl and it lays messily behind her. Next to her on the ottoman were the leftover throwaway pillows that didn't make it onto the bed as decor and a small blue knitted blanket that lay partly off the bed and into the ottoman. 

The vanity frame of the mirror had enchanted bulbs that casts a warm glow to the otherwise dark bedroom, causing shadows to appear in places that the light couldn't reach, including washing over Pansy's pretty features and giving her a warm and inviting aura as she sprawled herself onto the cushions of the ottoman, her eyes slightly hooded as she waited for Hermione to step in after her. 

With such a natural and charming appearance from a vixen, Hermione had been tempted to sit beside the other witch and kiss her shadowed cheek and into the inviting neck that smelled of jasmine and rich berries.

I clearly won't, of course. 

Hermione walked in and sent the floating silver heels into the walk-in wardrobe with the rest of Pansy's collection shoes. If Pansy had an issue with the placement of the heels, she could worry about it herself in the morning.  

Whenever she would enter, Hermione always took notice of the enchanted ceiling that had twinkling stars just above their heads, and the rest of Pansy's bedroom that followed that starry theme, using the colors of royal midnight, creamy whites, and gold. 

It always takes Hermione back to the first time she stepped foot in the Great Hall and told a fellow first year beside her about how it had been enchanted by Rowena Ravenclaw. The face of the girl became mostly blurry now, but Hermione thinks it could have been Pansy Parkinson listening and looking up with her own constellations that had a backdrop of green. 

Hermione takes off her blazer, and tosses it onto the ottoman bench next to Pansy and the pillows. A manicured hand of Pansy's lazily smooths out the wrinkles when it falls next to her, a soft smile silently forming on her pretty features. 

"I'll go set up the bubble bath." Hermione steps out of her own shoes then, revealing her black anklet socks. 

Her feet sink right into Pansy's fluffy and creamy white carpet that reminds Hermione of clouds. The carpet was different from her own bedroom. Everything here was to Pansy's taste, but Hermione only now regretted how she hadn't thought of customizing her own bedroom. She would have picked out this same carpet…

She heads straight to the bathroom now. Her own magic lights up the room and could see the mosaic and porcelain tiles that were painted with an intricate design. An assortment of skincare potions and hair potions were organized in glass window cabinets on each side of a large mirror that reflected back Hermione's image, but with a rushed morning there was a messy bathroom counter with a few potions sitting out. 

Hermione passes by the double sinks and toward the tub that sticks out from the wall with all sorts of odd faucets and valves that had a number of different functions. The large tub was made up of white tiling and it was overlooked by a large stain glass window that had an animated plum tree shaking in the wind with purples and pink, unfortunately the sun was already down, so it didn't paint the white tiles of the bathroom in those glass plums and leaves for Hermione. She doesn't know what it would be like during the day, but she imagines on a sunny day it was the most beautiful feature of Pansy's ensuite bathroom. 

She gets to work now by first rolling up her white sleeves to her forearm. Hermione summons the stopper for the drain, and starts up the water faucets with only the tap of her finger. A spark of magic runs through her index finger and makes contact with the dormant Aguamenti charm that was part of the tub's functions. 

Hermione watched the gears start to spin, and steam came with the flowing water as it filled up the tub. From her time at Hogwarts, Hermione had grown used to this bizarre plumbing system of the wizard world and Pansy's tub wasn't any different from the overly large one from the Prefect's baths, though in front of Hermione now the bubbles and soap options from all the spouts was likely more luxurious and specific to the pretty witch's own favorite scents. There were two more pipes, but they were a mystery to Hermione on what they possibly contained. 

Pansy could be heard entering the bathroom now, her hand pushing and swinging the door further open. Still in her silver dress, and hadn't yet changed out of it. The witch shuffles over toward the mirror to begin taking off her earrings and hair accessories. Hermione can hear some of it clattering straight onto the counter, but they must be charmed for Pansy not to worry about them being scratched or broken by such a clumsy act. 

A cabinet door opens, and Pansy starts to forage for something specific to wipe off her make-up and charms she had cast on. 

Hermione peeks over her shoulder to stare at the pretty witch.  In the mirror Pansy has a sweet smile on her face as she dabs away her lipstick with a charmed cotton-swipe. An invention that could wipe away simple glamor charms and makeup without smear or hard rubbing. The ruddy pink from when Pansy had been crying was unfortunately still there. 

"Will a bubble bath really make you feel better?" Hermione asks Pansy now. 

Pansy hums while thinking, tilts her head as she pats now at her cheeks with the cotton swipe, "My mum would fill up the bathtub with berry bubblegum bubbles—it used to help calm me down at age four, but I guess bubblegum would be too childish now, right?"

Hermione suddenly imagines a sniffling and hiccuping four year old kitchenware princess just coming down from a horrid tantrum, but she can't imagine how playing with foam and bubbles could actually distract a spoiled heiress. 

"Is that what you want—bubblegum and berries?" She looked over the pipes, and didn't think there was even a bubblegum soap among them, but Hermione did know a few spells to try. 

"Minus the bubblegum." Pansy answers. She then points to one of the pipes in front of Hermione, "Try that one—it's a mix of berries, I use it all the time, but I doubt it'll have the amount of bubbles that I'm wanting."

Hermione follows her line of sight, and starts to think, Berries aren't part of Pansy's perfume? So then it's a body wash or some kind of soap this whole time? It's really long lasting…

"That's fine," Hermione summons her own wand and it soon comes flying in from the bedroom, spinning as it does and straight into her outstretched hand that catches it. "I can manage the rest." A lot of practice went into that move just then, not many in the wizarding world could just summon their own wand back to them that easily. 

Yes, Hermione was showing off, and she thanked Merlin that she didn't just embarrass herself in front of Pansy there and have her wand only tumble and roll its way three feet to the threshold of the doorway or offshoot the summons and cause it to splash into the tub or straight past her curly hair and crash through the stained glass window…

She turns the valve that Pansy has pointed out, and lets a purple red-ish liquid pour out at full blast; it rushes into the water like a waterfall and builds up foam and small bubbles around it.  

A few tiny bubbles pop in the air, giving off a berry scent. 

The soap was currently an unusual amount that Pansy would never apply to her body, but it was necessary to add the fluffy and cloud-like foam to the tub. Hermione shuts off the valve and then with her own magic she adds more volume and bubbles that Pansy had asked for. She swirled and mixed the water and soap together, helping the foam to build and build into what reminded Hermione of candy floss. 

It smelled just as good as candy floss anyway. The mix of dark and rich berries was more mature than Pansy's childhood berry bubblegum, but such a childhood memory explains why an adult Pansy loves berries even now. 

Focused on her magic bubble making, Hermione didn't realize that Pansy had come up to stand behind her until the witch spoke, "Can I get in now?"

Hermione raises to her full height again, "Yeah, it's done." She then plans to excuse herself now that the bubble bath was ready for the other witch, but a hand is placed on her shoulder that stops Hermione from escaping. 

Pansy asks for Hermione to help with her dress. "There is an invisible clasp on the back seam that is hard to reach, but it'll slip off once you unhook the back with magic."

Brown eyes lower to Pansy's silver dress—quickly passes over the cleavage and hovers oddly at the abdomen as a safe zone. Hermione was quietly thinking to herself as to why Pansy couldn't just do that on her own if it just involved magic.

Hermione opens her mouth to try and express this question, but the words never leave her lips—maybe, truthfully, she didn't want to leave yet, either. 

Pansy thinks that Hermione had plans to reject her, so she comes up with a quick excuse, "I've been drinking a little bit, and since you're here, it'll be easier for you to just do it…right?"

Does Pansy know that this isn't appropriate between the two of us?  

Hermione doesn't know if they were at that level of friendship to be taking off each other's clothes— she had no knowledge of friends ever undressing each other, period. Hermione could only stop her own thoughts and remind herself that Pansy wouldn't think it was inappropriate, because the two should have had zero thoughts about the other to care about it. 

Hermione ends up nodding along to Pansy's excuse, "Alright then, turn around."

Despite how her words sound stable leaving her own lips then, Hermione's fingers were trembling with anticipation with Pansy's back view being spun around. Her hand hovers over where a clip should be on a dress, and quietly counts in her head of how long it should normally be to unhook a dress. One. Two. Three…Four! Anything past four, and it might be a right embarrassment if any woman thinks Hermione can't unhook the damn thing with magic or nimble fingers. 

With a magic touch, the dress opens up and slips down just as Pansy instructed that it would, but Hermione out of reflex felt the need to quickly hold up the dress with her heart pounding after catching sight of bare skin flashing in front of her eyes. 

Pansy teases Hermione's anxious actions, "This dress is specifically resilient to tears and scuffs, the floor won't hurt it, Granger."

Hermione does as she's told, pretending that she hadn't just been trying to keep herself from being entranced by the naked back of Pansy Parkinson. She wasn't worried about some dress! 

Her chest felt hot, and she kept trying to check on the sound of her own breathing to be sure it wasn't a heavy panting from the panic that was starting to rise with how a naked Pansy was going to be only a few centimeters away. 

Get it together!

Earlier this morning, Pansy had her underwear on when lecturing Hermione about fabrics and she was able to survive, but Hermione is sure that Pansy didn't have a bra on while wearing this specific shoulderless dress that held everything up by magic. The control Hermione needed to keep from curiously brushing her hot fingertips over Pansy's shoulder blades that visually now shiver from the cool air of the bathroom. 

The silver dress falls to Pansy's feet, and she steps out with her arms covering up her exposed breasts. Pansy was still wearing her lace panties, but Pansy's 300,000 Galleon bum wasn't a safe view for Hermione to focus on either. The other witch was confident in her figure, but that didn't mean for Hermione to just oggle whenever— she'd be no different than Blaise.

Hermione tells herself that this part here was probably normal between friends. 

Isn't it? 

Friends wouldn't undress each other, as that was probably taking it a step too far with intimacy, but in Hermione's days of boarding school, she has accidentally seen her dorm-mates Parvati, Sally-Anne and Lavender in their underwear, including an awkward nipple slip or bottom cheek at times, but Hermione honestly never thought anything of it, nor was she embarrassed—at least not after the third or fifth time of getting used to it. She only ever found it annoying back then, because there had been very little privacy between them all. 

Of course, Hermione didn't have any sort of attraction for those girls either, even if Parvati was considered the prettiest girl out of the Gryffindor girls of their year. For herself , if Hermione had to overwrite her teenage self's biased opinion about Slytherins, she would have to admit and say that it was Pansy Parkinson who she was attracted to from back then to now—from thighs to her face, to even her bubbly laugh and starry green eyes. Being exposed to these things was not good for Hermione's heart. The only thing that was not pleasing about Pansy was their history— of being Pansy Parkinson and of being Hermione Granger. And, maybe the materialistic side of Pansy was a bit intimidating for Hermione's own wallet and lack of knowledge.

"I—I'll hang it up for you?" Hermione suddenly clears her throat. She doesn't sound confident in her question, but she feels that she needs to break the silence between them that she had created. 

Pansy says it was fine, so Hermione summons a hanger and then to distract herself, she takes the dress and personally hangs it up onto the back of the door that had a hook. Her actions had closed the door, but her hand is stuck to the door handle contemplating on walking out now. 

Thinking that Hermione was likely going to run out on her, Pansy speaks up again, "Where are you going, aren't you going to help me—I'm afraid I'll fall."

Hermione's shoulders feel tense, but repeats in her own head over and over again that between them this was totally innocent. Her shoulders relax, lets go of the door handle and turns back around, but just as she did a shadow falls over her eyes, and it's Pansy's hand hovering over to block Hermione's view, "Wait, you should still close your eyes, Granger~"

"Sorry." Hermione quickly agrees and shuts her eyes so Pansy could remove the hand hovering over her face. 

Behind her eyelids it was dark with only a bit of the light bleeding into the hood her eyes. Hermione can feel that the hand moved down to rest on her shoulder. Hermione stays completely still so that Pansy could now slip off her underwear without losing her balance and falling into Hermione. Part of Hermione is aware that Pansy could have just used the counter or the side of the tub rather than herself, but for her own selfish reasons she didn't call the witch out on it. 

With her eyes closed, Hermione doesn't know that Pansy is cautiously watching the trembling eyelashes with interest. Pansy knew she could trust Hermione's righteous and chivalrous character to not steal a peek, but if her 'darling' wife did wish to prove her wrong, Pansy would not hold it against the other witch. She would have been pleased with Hermione's boldness.

The need of wanting to paint over Hermione's features with her fingertip,  but could only quietly settle with her eyes.

Pansy's starry eyes slowly trail over the bridge of Hermione's nose that was speckled with freckles that must have been achieved by the summer sun in Hermione's youth, to the lips that were slightly chapped and a dull pink to the vibrant warmth of Hermione's skin. Pansy's eyes followed straight down toward Hermione's chest and noticed that water from the tub had splashed onto the white button up shirt. Over to the exposed forearms and hands—lean, but tone. The muscles in the woman's forearm and wrist tense up nervously, as if Hermione could actually feel Pansy's fiery stare. 

One arm had a delicate wristwatch, and the other had a thin gold bracelet that was now more visible as it dangled from the wrist—the bracelet caused Pansy to focus on the scar, but she quickly averts her eyes away from the jagged and ugly letters that had been cut into Hermione's skin at eighteen by a curse dagger, reminding anyone who looks upon it of the cruelty that exists in the wizarding world—even if the bat-shit witch that tortured Hermione turned to dust, even with the war over, Pansy knew there were still old families that just hid their ugliness and hatred towards muggleborns and muggles. Biting down their tongues in the presence of Hermione Granger while subscribed to that God awful ' Pure Press ' that still made its rounds in Knockturn Alley right under the Ministry of Magic's nose. Those like the Flints and the Goyles. 

Pansy slides her hand from Hermione's shoulder down to the upper arm to get a firm grip on the steady woman in front of her to actually start slipping off her underwear than admire the powerful witch in front of her. 

Hermione anticipates when this will be over, while trying not to picture what Pansy currently looks like when taking off her panties—- which is an oddly slow process with how long this is taking, right?

"Are you done yet?" Hermione asks a bit impatiently, but keeping her eyes tightly shut. 

"Almost. I'm going to get into the tub, and when I sit down, I'll let you know."

The feel of Pansy's hand gliding down her forearm felt a bit ticklish to Hermione, then there was a sound of disturbed water as Pansy steps into the bubble bath. 

"It's safe now, Granger, you can open your eyes." There is a smile in Pansy's voice as she starts to tease, "Now don't go anywhere, you might be able to still get a peek of me if you're lucky…"

Of course, the vixen had to get a tease in. 

Hermione's eyes flutter open, and finds Pansy now sitting in the bathtub. The witch's arms were pulling the foam and bubbles over her body to cover everything possible, besides the clavicle and top of the pink and flushed shoulders. 

No longer as nervous now that Pansy was securely in the tub, Hermione raises an eyebrow and quips back to the teasing, "I think you're just relieved that I didn't catch you slipping on your bum here and breaking a hip like an eighty year old woman—Oh, but your arse is insured, so it'll be okay if that ever did happen."

"Don't you go bringing that up!"

A blush from Pansy's shoulders creeps up to her cheeks, and it wasn't all from the steam of the water. The pretty witch splashes her 'darling' wife for the words, and Hermione is quick to take a step back before her trousers get soaked. 

Pansy glares at the woman who dodged her, "Aren't you going to sit down?"

"Didn't I just promise you a bubble bath? I didn't think I had to stay as well, Your Highness." 

Give Pansy a drop, she'll take the whole bucket—I gave Pansy the whole bathtub filled with bubbles, and yet, I'm still stuck here! Or, if Hermione would stop lying to herself… because Pansy couldn't force a powerful witch such as herself to ever stay, Hermione just didn't want to leave. 

"Not yet, you haven't been dismissed," The kitchenware heiress pouts at how it seems Hermione is wanting to escape her. She points at a wooden stool off to the side that was for the walk-in shower, "Summon it over—I promise I won't splash you."

Hermione sighs, but she has always been good at following directions since primary school, and easily slides the stool over to sit down next to Pansy.

"There now," Pansy's lips bloom into a smile to see Hermione's willingness to stay and sit with her, "You have now officially kept your word, Granger. Not many witches can do that…" She begins to lightly pat at the foam, causing little bubbles to float upward when caught on the airy draft of her movements. 

Hermione watches a tiny bubble float to herself, but it pops in the air before it ever hits a surface, "So, you feel better now then—about everything ?"

Her eyes caught sight of Pansy's bare legs peeking through the pool of foam and water, Pansy's knee raises upward, and the suds of soap begin to slide off smooth and silky looking skin that now glistens underneath the enchanted lights of the bathroom. Every room Pansy steps into with natural or even enchanted lighting, makes the witch look like a beautiful painting. It was hard not to take notice of Pansy's beauty. Hermione swallows to fix the sudden dryness in her throat. 

"Mostly." Pansy hums. She could never really forget about what happened to Millicent. 

Hermione tries her best to maintain eye contact with Pansy's starry green than the rest of her, "I honestly can't imagine how this worked on you as a toddler."

Hermione Granger hadn't been such a toddler that could be easily distracted by bubbles or shiny objects and sugary treats. When she was an upset four year old, her parents had to distract a little Hermione with reading children books to her—more specifically letting Hermione read it to them even if her parents had to hear it a 100 times over, it would at least stop the tears. 

Pansy tilts her head onto her bare shoulder trying to think far back to those days, the ends of her dark hair that reached past her shoulders was wet and sticking to the skin, "At first, not so much, I'm sure I was still bawling and screaming even after mum stuffed me into the tub," She lifts her head from her shoulder and continues to pat at the foam in thought to it, "But, the bubbles eventually would win me over, and it became the simplest way to calm my terrible tantrums." Pansy turns her attention back onto Hermione, "Hard to imagine, right? Someone as spoiled rotten as me could easily be distracted by a bubble bath—not the new toys, sparkly dress, a unicorn or even a mother of pearl Gobstone set—" Her eyes lit up to a sudden memory, "Oh, I did want that, but mum didn't think a four year old should ever have a Gobstone set, that was probably the exact reason why I got stuffed into a tub in the first place—I heard the word 'No! ' for the first time!"

A soft laugh escapes Hermione when she listens to Pansy tell her this story, "No unicorn either?"

Pansy childishly makes a light fist into the foam out of fake frustration at the question that was clearly another ' No! ' from Yvette Parkinson. 

"Even at twenty-seven I have not received one yet!"

Hermione's smile is still visible, "Good thing you didn't ask me to promise you a unicorn, because I wouldn't have been able to easily get you one," She thinks of her department suddenly, "Well, I guess a co-worker of mine might know of a unicorn ranch for me to borrow one…"

"Yeah, you should probably ask, Granger. You never know when that information might come in handy for you~" Pansy says as if there was going to be a next time for Hermione to console her dear wife. 

There is a smile in those starry green eyes that tells Hermione the witch was only playing with her, maybe. 

Hermione thinks of all the promises that the witches at Moonvine must have made to Pansy. 

"I get promises all the time just to go home with one."

A bubble bath, a unicorn, a cover of Witch Weekly magazine…promises that I could easily give…Surely one of these things could have tempted Pansy's interest with them instead, and yet…Pansy has only ever gone home with me?

Hermione's curiosity about this, caused her to boldly ask Pansy about it now, "You never asked these other witches for such things—or they just couldn't keep such a promise with you?"

Patting the foam and bubbles halts, "No. Especially not a bubble bath. Why?" Pansy lifts an eyebrow when she questions Hermione back, "Want to feel special, Granger?"

Yes. No. Yes. 

Hermione is flustered by Pansy's thrown back question, " Special? I'm just asking—I–I would–I'm just concerned that some random witch could bring you back to her place with… with a bubble bath !"

"Well, yeah, Granger, but it's… different to ask that of you , isn't it? Obviously, they'll promise me all sorts of things to grab my attention," Pansy shrugs as she begins to list all the promises that a witch had tried to tempt her with, and the water shifts with the movement of her arms, "A broom…a diamond necklace…a modeling shoot for some overseas magazine…some sort of magical artifact or family heirloom—tickets to a dueling show once, oh, a fucking house for another…Anything that'll show me how rich they are or a chance to brag about their career, or whatever it is that they think will impress me, but I only ever accept their drinks—"

Pansy pauses, then tilts her head onto her shoulders again, eyeing Hermione cautiously, "This all probably sounds like a weird transaction to you, doesn't it? Buying my affection…me leading them on… but, those witches most of the time just want a pretty witch to listen to them and laugh at their jokes, their egos and self-esteem no different to any wizard sometimes," The pretty witch closes her eyes then, "—for me, it's just a distraction and for them, it's a fantasy." Her starry eyes reopen, "It's possible that they mean everything they say, including their boasting and promises to date me, and not be talking out of their arse, but I don't let it go anywhere. I don't agree to anything and the witches I used to flirt with should at least be aware of that by now."

That's what you think, but those women do believe that their fantasy will be a reality someday of you saying yes to them, Parkinson.  

Hermione is aware of what Pansy meant by that 'distraction' though, but it isn't telling Hermione the whole truth of what the pretty witch is doing with all those witches— Pansy was searching for something, but she can't comment on that, so the next best thing from that could only be startled by the list of things she heard Pansy has been promised.

"I'm sorry— a house —they offered you a house, Parkinson?"

Pansy giggles at Hermione's shock, bubbly and bright, because she didn't tell her that had happened more than once. There were witches that truly believed Pansy would get excited over a house, even though she likely had more property in her name than they did.

She playfully replies to Hermione, and raises her hands up from the tub to gesture at the entire manor they were currently living in together, "Oh, come on now, didn't your pants drop for me Granger when I gave you a manor?"

No, Hermione certainly did not drop her underwear for Pansy Parkinson! 

"What woman in her right mind would just give away a house like that for a one night stand?! Absolutely mad!" 

Hermione suddenly thinks she remembered overhearing a witch in Moonvine bragging about a house she bought once— was that the same woman?!

Pansy corrects then, "Absolutely horny, you mean…and most likely didn't think it would be a one time thing if she was giving me a house, Granger." She then shrugs to something, "According to Daphne, all of them are like that, though she might not have been far off about that witch specifically—she calls it panting for a milkbone." Pansy's cute button nose scrunches up. 

Hermione darkly laughs, "All of them are a bunch of dogs…," Daphne wasn't wrong with that description at all—- panting like dogs , was the imagery Hermione had when having to witness the annoying idiots herself at Moonvine, "You have a very specific type that you attract at Moonvine and not many of them are—" 

She stops, realizing she was opening up too much in front of Pansy.

Pansy twists a bit in the tub to the wall just behind her, one arm modestly hovering a bit over her cleavage as the bubbles shift and slide away from the top of her breasts, "What did you stop for?" Her hand lifts up from the foam to reach a white loofah that was hanging just behind her. 

By that one single move, Hermione hurriedly pulled herself back from the subject, afraid that she was going to get splashed, "No reason!" 

She doesn't make eye contact with Pansy. 

Hermione didn't want to go down that route of insulting Pansy's type in women— she couldn't get a unicorn at this time of night!

"I'm taking a bubble bath, Granger, what am I possibly going to do after you insult my taste in women?" By her voice, Pansy sounds innocent, but Hermion knows that Pansy could be anything, but that. 

Hermione comes up with something, "Splash me with water for one!"

Pansy scoffs at the idea of Hermione Granger ever being scared of such a thing, "Oh, the Big Bad Bitch would melt, wouldn't she?"

"..." It's 'witch' not 'bitch', thank you very much. 

The enchanted loofah starts to eagerly scrub over the shoulders and back, soap and foam gently trails and falls over the upper part of Pansy's body. 

Hermione rolls her eyes, "No, I—I'll keep it real with you, those witches are absolutely ridiculous at trying to grab your attention—maybe outside the influence of a pretty witch's attention and shots of firewhiskey they're probably intelligent—I mean, I overheard one say she was an Unspeakable, if that's true, because she was certainly the most boastful Unspeakable I ever heard, which makes me rethink to say she was lying about her occupation!"

Pansy calls Hermione's nosiness out, "You were eavesdropping?"

It's honestly against my will! Keeping her back straight while sitting on the stool, Hermione hurriedly excuses, "It's impossible to mind my own business when those witches are shouting over the club music just to get your attention. At that point, all of Moonvine is just speed dating—I know more about them than I'd like to know!"

Pansy turns her whole torso to face Hermione directly now, the loofah continues with its enchantments, her soapy arms resting on top of the tub's wall. "Well, I admit it got worse over time, because how else are they supposed to get any time with me when they had to compete with you ?"

"Me?" Hermione is confused by this, and tries to not be distracted by the white loofah that excitedly bounces with the bubbles as if it was laughing at Hermione Granger, too. "What did I even do?"

"Granger!" Pansy gives Hermione a look that she couldn't believe the witch was oblivious to her own actions, "You rented out a private room and invited me for expensive house drinks more than once! To those witches, we clearly had something going on between us—which makes me think there is no way Catherine's so-called friend is her source about us—she probably doesn't even have an invite to Moonvine."

She shakes her head at Pansy, "No, that probably has to do with you having never stopped interacting with those witches after. According to our supposed timeline, wouldn't you be cheating on me?"

Hermione supposed there were a few small holes in their story if people put their heads together and shared what they knew about Pansy Parkinson. 

Water is splashed into Hermione's face as Pansy scowls at the supposed cheating allegations, "According to the timeline," She mocked back, "Who is always at work and never comes home?! It's probably no wonder I cheated! It makes perfect sense!"

"..." Hermione wipes away the water droplets from her face and her entire button up is now soaked and slightly transparent to her own skin and white bra.  

Pansy promised earlier she wouldn't splash her!

She glares back at Pansy then, "Someone who can't keep their promises, I guess you're fine with everyone thinking you're a cheater too?" Then with the water already splashed on her to care about, she adds, "Also, you have terrible taste in women to cheat on me with, just to make that more clear!"

Pansy gasps, "That's not even true about me, but you are the workaholic! I'm perfectly fine without Moonvine, but Morgana's tits, Granger, you acted like you were having withdrawals for the first three weeks of suspension, also, excuse me, you dated Weasley, I'm pretty sure that is the lowest any of us could go."

"..." I guess we're all forgetting about you dating Draco Malfoy fourth year!

Hermione and Pansy are quiet as they stare at each other after that, only the noise of the loofah splashing about Pansy without a care in the world to the two,  before eventually the slow smiles start to form between them again, thinking their little squabble just now was ridiculous for a fraudulent couple. 

Breaking the silence, Hermione tries to hide her smile, but does little to stop it, "I think he would say that about you…"

Pansy snorts about Ron's opinion, "Oh, I'm an improvement for you actually, I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever married!"

"Well, that's not much of a boast there, you are the only woman I've ever married, Parkinson."

"You knew what I meant!" Pansy replies with some embarrassment about having the correction. 

Hermione curiously asks Pansy  with some anxiousness in her heart then, "Do you think you downgraded when marrying me?"

Even if Pansy's friends don't know the truth, I'm sure they all think it, especially with everyone's meaning behind their compliments about my brains or her beauty, like we're opposites and shouldn't ever attract.  If that's the case, then what about Millicent?

In thought to what had recently upset Pansy, Hermione's eyes lowered to her hands as they held themselves together. 

Aren't I just pulling Pansy down with me and wasting her time? Why did Pansy go through with it—-she could have easily left me back in January when Rita Skeeter got too close, by writing an article about how someone saw us sitting at a table at some muggle restaurant. Why did she say yes? We're not in love. We're not anything. Pansy could have slithered off like how the Parkinson Family and her friends wished she did, instead of doubling down and putting a ring on it to tie us together to all of it.

Hermione still doesn't think she could just ask these questions in hopes for an answer that she'll like, especially not on a subject that was Millicent. 

Pansy peeks over her shoulder and up at the stained glass window and releasing an exaggerated sigh, as if she was pretending to think long and hard about it, "Well, unlike those other witches, Granger, you are the only one out of them being accused of a crime," 

But then, Pansy spins back around, leaning her head into her soapy hand, foam sticks to her cheeks when doing so, and water drips a bit down her forearm to over the edge of the tub. 

Her starry green looks at Hermione without any judgment, "But, no, you're not bad at all, Hermione. At least, from what I see. I know that others are afraid of you, and say all sorts of things about you now, but all I can think is the reason behind every bad thing you've ever done, and…well, the reasons have turned out better than most, right?"

My reasons are better than most, Pansy tells Hermione that, But, how is it any better? I'm aware of how I can be downright terrifying and a complete hot mess. 

Hermione's righteous ideals and ambitious goals were wanting to make the world in her own image of what ' good ' is supposed to be—a naive thought from her childhood days when all a little Hermione had were books and rules, and an idea of what friendship and courage were supposed to be. 

It all sounded pure and innocent on the surface, much like many others ideas, but when it revealed itself as an unrealistic idea for her that no one would follow, when the world was never black and white to start with , it led to a terrifying Hermione Granger who wanted to force it into being instead, no matter if it broke others. 

When Hermione was a child, long before Hogwarts , she was insufferable with her set of rules that gave her very few friends, but when others didn't follow them, Hermione never crossed a line with any of her peers over it, because even she couldn't break a single rule without hyperventilating at the thought. 

Which should come as a clear sign of concern for when one day Hermione Granger happily learned that it was okay to break the rules, as long as it was for a good cause! Oh, how that had changed the game for a preteen Hermione Granger! Albus Dumbledore had created a monster out of Hermione with that mindset by watching how the old wizard treated Harry for all his heroics, despite breaking every rule in the schoolbook. 

Once the rules were lifted with such an excuse as, "The world would be a whole lot better, if they just did what I said!" it twisted her original childhood message, and only ever led to more people challenging her ideals and tore it all down in one fell sweep with, 'Pull it back there tigress, you're acting like a tyrant!'  

Hermione could be cold, cunning, and just as unforgiving, believing that everything she did was for the purpose of her own conquest, and never seeing it as straight up wrong. It was everything a twelve year old Hermione would have judged Slytherins and bad people for committing. 

Of course, no one just let her get away with it, even her own best friends knew that Hermione couldn't be let loose without an iron set of rules in place to stop the unthinkable. So, Hermione had to get in line like everyone else with their own ideals made out of poster boards and flashcards while presenting themselves in front of the Wizengamot. 

As an adult, Hermione tries to make herself feel better about her own time wasted about bending to the rest of the world's current idea…she tells herself that she was just a wolf in sheep's clothing—just waiting to bite down when she finally has one sheep within reach, and it would be enough to change everything , especially if she bit into a golden sheep. But, just when Hermione's sharp teeth were ready to graize into that fluff to make everything happen, she was still caught and struck down by the shepherd, including letting them all know what Hermione Granger actually was. 

Corrupt. Tyrant. Self-Righteous. Violent. Bad. 

"Is it?" Hermione reveals some guilt to Pansy on the surface about her bad behavior from the past now, compared to before when she had brushed it over while the two had danced. 

Pansy stares back at Hermione, her eyes casting a spell to have Hermione follow every word she was about to say next, " It is …if you deem it's right, then I'm with you... even when others call me a fool in siding with you…because, you're far more capable than any of them could ever be, and I actually think you could still become Minister of Magic someday. What kind of downgrade could that be?" 

Hermione's eyes widened at the pretty witch admitting that. 

Pansy's eyes trail over to the loofah that plops in the water and quietly floats about now with her, "I know that if things had gone super badly with Padma—even if it was things I did, you would have spun it to where I had little choice in the matter and that it was all your doing. I know you've already done your best with protecting me from most of what has happened. No one else I know would protect me like what you did tonight either, at least, not anymore, not in a long time, so…"

The white loofah quiets down with the scrubbing, but the bubbles Hermione had created continue to float about Pansy and herself with the scent of rich berries. 

"...We're in this together, Hermione. You've shared your courage, brilliance and trust with me, so, my own loyalty, my own resources, my preservation—I'll share that with you, too." Pansy's lips twitch upward, and even jokes to push back some of the vulnerability in her current confession, "Along with the house, of course."

Hermione stares into those starry eyes, still not yet certain what that constellation might read, but she thinks of foxglove again…

All parts of it are unable to be ingested, but within itself is a key to saving lives; properly cultivated the chemical it produces can be used in medicine to save one from heart failure, but going even further back to the old muggle tales—

From the flower name itself, foxglove to fox bells , muggles used to say that it was the fairies that taught the fox to wear the little bell petals upon their paws to make their steps soft and quiet from the hunters up in the hills and stealing eggs from the villages. Another tale says that fairies taught the fox to ring the flower like bell to warn others of hunters approaching up in hills. Finding foxglove up in the hills, you're more than likely to find a fox den nearby. Hermione knows there is no real correlation to that or their names, as both fox and wild foxglove just naturally make their homes in the hills because of the climate. 

It was just for the stories that were told. There is even a superstitious wive's tale that it was bad luck to pluck a foxglove and take it home, because the flowers were considered a gift to the foxes, and only a fox was allowed to without facing the wrath of the fairies. 

Normally, even if she was a witch, Hermione would always prefer facts instead of fables, but the symbolism and metaphors was still good enough of an explanation for her…to believe in such muggle tales that came from one's own imagination, planting foxglove in the garden could capture a vixen …to pluck it….for a wolf that might need such bells.

No, Pansy was never the foxglove, she was the unknowing vixen that was tempted by Hermione's garden of growing foxgloves, and was caught by a wolf in waiting for her. Just as cunning and sharp as a wolf, a vixen had more underhanded tricks, with no sense of care for right or wrong, only ever doing what benefits herself—Pansy plucked the flower for Hermione, taught her how to use such a beautiful, yet poisonous foxglove, and in turn the wolf would give back to the vixen.  

The others call Pansy a fool for doing so, telling the vixen not to trust any wolf, for throughout the fables, wolves look noble, seem to have their own worthy cause, but only ever turn out dangerous like all the rest, ready to eat the world if it meant they could start anew for their own ideals to properly take fruit. The vixen argues back for the wolf, she didn't believe that Hermione was anything like the tales, much like the fabled foxes as tricksters, wolves have just been given a bad reputation. Wolves were a powerful force of nature, they were loyal, intelligent, and trustworthy. They had the traits of being good leaders, and Pansy believed that of Hermione. 

Pansy in her words, was telling Hermione that she was with her, her cause, her brilliance, her good and her bad, and if Hermione deems it right, Pansy would stick by her for it. The two were not real wives, but they could still be trusted partners. 

Hermione blooms her own smile back at Pansy, now having some understanding of why the pretty witch stuck around with her, because she too had those thoughts long before, the reason she fought by Harry's side, no matter what had been said, or pushed to her own limits for it. 

I sometimes look back and question the things Albus Dumbledore did to Harry, I sometimes even hate him for making me one of his pawns in his game of chess against Voldemort—yet, I knew I would never leave Harry's side regardless of the idea of being used and calculated against by the old wizard. The amount of times I could have still stepped back from it all, that had still been my own choice , but to the very end, I stuck it out with Harry to see what would come from it—the desperate fight and cause that I was even willing to die for…that I had sacrificed so much for…for Harry's world where good always prevails and evil is defeated—not bad, but evil.  

In the name of Harry…in the name of Dumbledore…in the name of Hermione…if it was worth it…

"Thank you for telling me that…but I'm still not dropping my pants for you because of the house, Parkinson."

Pansy eyes the red trousers that Hermione wore, "No, but you might want to change out of them, you're a bit wet now, aren't you?"

Hermione's face burns red at Pansy's comment, "You splashed me!"

At her reaction, Pansy's giggle reverberates into the porcelain and tile as she leans into the side of the tub to hide her own flushed face, the water and foam sloshed about with her. 

Hermione didn't realize how much time had actually passed between them after that, not until she's standing in Pansy's shower with the water falling over her and drenching her curls and waves while staring down at her feet as the water flowed down the drain. 

The entire bathroom still had the scent of Pansy's mixed berries from her bubble bath earlier. The pretty witch had gotten out of the bath while Hermione kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut and holding out a blue and fluffy towel to get the witch to wrap herself in quickly before walking around the bathroom again to apply skin care and lotion, so she didn't have to sit another painstaking second with a naked and flirtatious Pansy Parkinson in front of her. 

Unlike the bathtub, the color scheme for the walk-in shower was blue tiles and a sliding glass door with gold valves for the water and one shower head hanging over her. The shelves were packed and lined with several potion products labeled shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and there were even face creams Hermione inspected while looking over her options. 

Hermione doesn't know what the other witch is doing in the bedroom to ask her about any of them, but Pansy gave her permission to use whatever she wanted when Hermione agreed to use her shower. It all smells amazing, but Pansy's hair type was different from her own. She guesses that she could make do with the random hair potions for one night, she would just use the same washing and drying technique to compensate for any difference in volume.  

She sniffed inside a bottle of body wash to find it being of berries, again. 

This witch really loves her berries…

It was all different from the lavender and honeysuckle from Hermione's own shower, but she still slathered and applied it all over her body with a washcloth. 

The steam from the shower fogs the mirrors, and it's very quiet in the bathroom now for Hermione. The scent of body wash on her own skin caused Hermione to think about its owner. 

Within her thoughts, Hermione tries to block out the sensations she had felt earlier—from the back view of Pansy when taking off her dress, her own fingertips unable and too afraid to touch such silky and creamy skin, the glide of Pansy's own hand down Hermione's forearm could still be felt, the way she was only a centimeter away from Hermione, and completely naked. The bubbles covered up most for Hermione's own imagination, but she could still see the pieces of flesh beneath the water whenever Pansy did move in front of her, and the suds sliding off thighs and the top of breasts.

Hermione's hand sneaked past her own abdomen, but just before curling over her own mound, she paused in her actions, as it dawned on Hermione of how tempted she had just been in those memories, and where the heat was doing backflips and frontflips below. Her hand falls aways then and she leans her forehead into the blue tile wall. 

"No." Hermione tells herself. 

Her wicked thoughts reply with tempting her again, She won't know…

"No." She won't mind, it's very human. It's been awhile…pent-up…stressed…how convenient you're already in the shower, anyway~

"No!" Hermione refuses to give in, and tells herself that it wouldn't be right to go touching herself in Pansy's own shower just because she couldn't handle a little skin shown to her by Pansy!

Hermione then changes the water temperature to freezing in an attempt to chill her own thoughts and body. 

When finally stepping out of the cold shower, Hermione takes her own fluffy blue towel to dry herself off and then reaching for her wand that sat on the counter, she uses a drying spell and de-tanglement spell for her own hair to make it easier to deal with. Hermione hadn't any clothes, so she summoned clothes from her own wardrobe. With a ' pop! ' her folded t-shirt, underwear and shorts appeared in front of her and she quickly changed into them. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, just before pulling the shirt over her own head, there had been a long and old scar that was slashed across her torso, paler compared to her own skin. Antonin Dolohov had done that to her, just another reminder from the war— her first real fight with a Death Eater at only sixteen. Professor Flitwick, a skilled and champion duelist, had finished that Death Eater off during the Battle of Hogwarts. 

The old t-shirt falls over her stomach and now there was only a flipped mirror image to a Dentistry Convention back in 1982, it was a little worn with the colors faded of the cartoonish and smiling molar with sunglasses, but the shirt once belonged to her dad and it was the last of what she had of him if not counting the Hampstead home— but, the house certainly didn't leave her with any good memories, just another ugly reminder about the war and what she had done. 

This shirt was of the better memories that she had with her dad. No, her parents were not dead. Hermione's parents were safe in Australia, though they hadn't a clue that Hermione Granger was their daughter. 

Almost eleven years, and she had yet to lift the powerful memory spell she had cast on them. Not that she hadn't found them. Hermione found them on the coast of Newcastle, New South Wales. It wasn't because she had no confidence in lifting it either. When her wand had pointed at her parents with their backs turned, showing her a house they had planned to rent out, the guilt of what she had done without their knowledge reached the surface then. Hermione never gave her parents the chance to ever talk it out with her, she never said goodbye, never gave them a chance to have even a glimpse of her after altering their memories and wiping her completely from their minds…

Hermione had been afraid to see their reaction after recovering their memories. Would they see it as her wanting to protect them, all in the name of protecting them from Voldemort and his followers? Or, would her parents only see it as a horrible and selfish thing that Hermione had done in stripping their memories of their only daughter?

So, she excused herself from their house tour and left without ever knowing. Hermione hadn't been back since. 

Just like what their thoughts could have been about Marietta...No, it was best not to think about that one, either. 

She steps up closer to the bathroom sink, and summons her own toothpaste and toothbrush. Earlier she had watched Pansy use charms to brush and clean her own tongue and mouth, including using a potion that Hermione assumed had been the wizarding equivalent to mouthwash. It made Pansy's sparkly teeth and mouth smell of mint cinnamon. Hermione preferred the muggle way of brushing her own teeth. There might be faults here and there compared to what magic wouldn't miss, but this was how she had been taught by her parents. 

Hermione squeezes out a tiny dollop of toothpaste onto her soft and sunny yellow bristled toothbrush. Hermione looks up into the mirror while silently counting her minutes for each section of her teeth. 

In front of the mirror her mind starts to imagine her parents at her side again, like the time she was four years old after gaining her first tooth, using a soft baby toothbrush and teaching Hermione the responsibility of having good dental hygiene. 

She closes her eyes while continuing to brush to try and avoid that heartache tonight.

Not dead, but I still lost them—a choice I alone had made, a sacrifice I had been willing to make in order to protect them. 

Hermione shakes away and clears her mind of those messy memory fragments, and reopens her eyes again to find herself standing in front of the mirror alone. 

When Hermione finally steps out of the bathroom, she finds the witch lying on her side on the large bed. Hermione's eyes fell onto the thighs that Pansy's pale green teddy slip didn't cover up. 

Pansy noticed Hermione was finished, and turned directly at her, "I went down to check the evening post, and you got mail, Granger~ looks like the PR agency just got word about you busting that guy's face in and now you're in BIG trouble!"

The pretty witch sounds like an obnoxious primary school kid who 'oooh's when another child gets caught with something by the teacher or Head. Hermione refrains from rolling her eyes at this 'dear' and 'darling' wife of her's that flutters the flimsy envelope about in the air for her to take. 

Even within the blurred movement, Hermione does catch the name of their agency, Gillard's Publicist Company , and it had been addressed in her name. Not Pansy's. 

Hermione wasn't all that worried about what the company had to say, she paid them to solve these public issues , and they were the ones that advertised and considered themselves the best in the business, so Gillard's should just do what was written in the contract for her. It's not like Hermione was even their worst client, so they wouldn't let go of her either, even if she was difficult to deal with—The ' Golden Trio ' was a package contract, and Gillard's won't end it anytime soon. 

She steps onto the cloudy carpet with her barefeet now, and it feels like heaven.

"Let me see it then…" 

Hermione begins to focus on the letter that Pansy hands over. She stands over Pansy's bed and chooses not to sit down, even when the other witch pats an empty spot for her to do so. 

She breaks the green wax seal and opens the letter and scans over the ink for the important bits—

'...the matter that took place at the Nott-Lovegood Wedding has been handled between the hours of 8PM-9PM. We have confiscated all photographs of the incident, including paying the damages on the camera that you broke, which will be taken out from your payments with Gillard's…'

In between the professionalism the letter probably wished to call Hermione Granger out for being a 'massive cunt' for causing her agent to wake up and deal with the mess after the fraudulent couple had promised to behave themselves. Sunday was even supposed to be her PR agent's day off. 

It also went on about Hermione needing to think about doing an interview in the future on her relationship with Pansy. 

'...we advise you, Madam Granger, to be open to the possibility of accepting the offers to do a public interview for the public to see a side of you that is a loving and caring wife and not a tyrannical—' It didn't say the word 'cunt ', but that was definitely the word her agent wanted to use at this point if this letter wasn't in a professional setting, ' —vandal that the the headlines love to perceive you as. We remind you that you are currently under investigation for embezzlement of ministry funds and a positive image at this time should be your top priority as it is ours moving forward…'

For someone who had just been woken up, Hermione's PR agent had a lot to say…She didn't care to finish reading it though and tossed it onto the nightstand.

Pansy watched her do this and asked, "What did Pelican say?"

That was the surname of the 'Golden Trio's' publicist agent. Veronica Pelican. Had it been for Pansy, the letter would have likely been written instead by her assigned agent, Chelsea Biggums.

It's not that Hermione was disregarding her publicist's warnings, but she was used to the formula and scolding of these sorts of letters. Hermione didn't want to do any interviews, not with Padma listening in to tear them all apart. Veronica or Chelsea could likely find a host or journalist that would stick to the approved questions that Hermione would have rehearsed answers to and not have the courage to try and flip the script on Hermione either.  But, Hermione just didn't like those styles of unauthentic interviews, she could barely stomach her own politician smile. 

"Just the usual lecture and pushing me into doing an interview about our marriage—as if that'll go over well with what they're wanting out of me…" Hermione sighed with some exhaustion then, "Read it if you want, I'm heading to bed." 

She starts to head toward the door with the thoughts of, Like I'll get any sleep from all of this… Hermione had little remorse for the guy she beat up and didn't want to waste her thoughts on him, but the investigation was constantly on her mind.

Pansy stops her, "Wait. You don't want to sleep here tonight?" 

The question seems as if the witch had been expecting Hermione to share the bed with her tonight, and was disappointed to hear that she had been wrong. 

First it was with the bubble bath, and now Pansy wants for Hermione to spend even more time with her? What was going on here? Part of Hermione didn't mind or think it was a big deal if she had agreed, but her thoughts that she had from in the shower tell her otherwise. The silky legs of Pansy causes Hermione's eyes to follow to the end of the night slip that only went to the middle of the witch's thigh. There was a triangle cut on the sides to reveal a bit more. Pansy's entire fragrance covered the room, including Hermione since using the pretty witch's body wash. It did all tempt Hermione to climb onto the bed at the invitation, but she had to refuse that pining need for companionship. 

"No," Hermione rejects, "I'm good and it's late…" She leaves the room quickly, and doesn't even look back to see what Pansy's expression had been— if she had even cared that Hermione had rejected her. 

Hermione's bedroom is further back down the hall from the bedroom. It was originally a study, but it turned into a bedroom when Hermione moved in. The bookshelves were only half filled by this point for references and sources for her own book and the writing desk was currently messy with parchment and ink, but her notes were still stacked neatly to the side. She hardly wrote anything since 'moving' in. 

When her feet stepped onto the carpet, she knew it wasn't going to be as soft as the one in Pansy's bedroom, and she sort of missed the other one, but Hermione excuses her current lack of comfort as being 'not here for long' , despite there was no real timeline as to when the two would actually divorce or when the investigation would end. Two years was their current estimate for believability. 

The enchanted lights went dim as Hermione headed straight toward her bed that had a book resting in her place from this morning. She picked it up and set it on her nightstand along with her wand. Her head takes to the pillow and she stares up at her empty coffered ceiling. It was eerily quiet in her room with only the sound of her own light breathing. 

Hermione shut her eyes tightly, but her brain still didn't take the hint that it was her wanting to go to bed. 

It keeps wanting to bring up how her day had gone, it had gone poorly , like how this entire year has gone so far. 

Her brain likes to make her go over all her faults and crimes, to every scenario that she had interacted with a person since then—to how their hands were stiff in her own or how their eyes didn't make eye contact with her, to even what they oddly said in front of her that didn't add up. Anything to tell Hermione on who might have screwed her over with Padma and Rita. Even to how Luna's and Theo's marriage was odd….

If she ever feels the exhaustion sinking in, her brain likes to then tell her that there is… 'something '... 'someone'. ..lurking in the back of her mind and that it's too scared to just fall asleep, because of the nightmares.The only thing back there was Hermione's leftover trauma from the war that personified itself into a cackling Bellatrix Lestrange. If she doesn't sleep for days, it gets so much worse for Hermione.

On her worst nights, she loses herself to the cackling madness that was Bellatrix, tossing and violently throwing everything in frustration for her lack of sleep from it. She'll even start to feel the painful tremors in her muscles of the remembered Cruciatus Curse, or the returned itching of the ugly scar on her arm. 

Hermione has learned to refrain from scratching when an episode would start up, but back in the early days of the post-war, Hermione used to scrape her nails over the crude and ugly letters that spelled out 'mudblood', causing it to open up and bleed. 

The scratches would always heal and clear up, but the dark magic left from the cursed dagger never properly does, only able to dab it with a cloth of Murtlap Essence in hopes to ease the pain and close the wound again. 

Even though Hermione has not taken any sleeping potion tonight, thankfully, she was still in complete control. Hermione tosses onto her side, reopens her eyes and stares at the empty spot next to her in longing, the quiet and loneliness still wanting her to pine for companionship though.

She's had many lovers that have come and gone since breaking up with Ron after the war. From Ernie MacMillan… I could only stand him for two months , that one night stand with one of Ginny's quidditch teammates… well, I never heard back from her, Anthony Goldstein… ended before it ever began and had been the last relationship I had before I made a deal with Pansy , but without him I would have never learned the truth about my shadowban at the ministry.  

There was also Lisa Turpin—a relationship that had happened between the time of Ernie and Anthony. Lisa had been the longest relationship Hermione's had since Ron. Lisa was happily married now and even sent her a congratulatory gift on her marriage to Pansy Parkinson, but the two didn't end on good terms either. 

Hermione always had little patience for the woman's hyper fixations—she wasn't forgiven when she blew up Lisa's cuckoo clock collection. 

You hear those things chime every hour into your sleep and see if you won't retaliate against that bothersome noise!

Lisa didn't have any patience for Hermione's insomnia or Sleeping Draughts, either. The image of Hermione chugging Sleeping Draughts nightly and watching empty bottles line up on her nightstand pushed Lisa to try and get Hermione to cut cold turkey, but it only ever led to their inevitable break up, much like how it had gone with Ron. 

Hermione didn't actually share many nights with any of them, especially not with Ernie or Anthony, but she does miss the comfort of someone sleeping next to her at times, even with the judgment she would receive from Lisa when taking a Sleeping Draught. 

She used to mostly turn and toss on the bed to try and sleep with Ron or being weaned off the Draughts with Lisa, but there had been something a little peaceful about following the same relaxed breathing pattern as their own when her trauma wasn't trying to keep her up at night. Ron would only ever snore, but it was usually three soft snores before one loud one and Lisa's was soft with a little wheeze from her nose. It was comforting to have just someone lying beside her, to let Hermione know she hadn't been alone. 

"You don't want to sleep here tonight?"

A lonely Hermione had been interested in Pansy's offer, but again, she would have likely only been up most of the night fighting against her own thoughts. 

Was Pansy disappointed when she declined? Why did she even want Hermione to spend the night? Did Pansy miss the comfort of someone too, but all she had was Hermione Granger? Would it even be the same for Pansy?

Hermione was not Millicent, would never be her, and could never replace her. She didn't even have the same build as Millicent. Hermione was average at best, from her height to even her face, if she doesn't add the buck teeth that gave her nothing but bullying when she was kid . Hermione didn't have broad shoulders or thick arms, nor did she have Millicent's strong facial features— in all honesty , Hermione personally can't figure out the physical attraction that Pansy could have had for the Slytherin girl, but she guesses it just goes to show that pretty Pansy Parkinson wasn't as shallow as Hermione once thought the witch was, and it was Hermione herself that had been the shallow one all this time. 

Hermione reminds herself then, Pansy doesn't actually want me to sleep with her, she just wants Millicent here with her. 

This time Hermione rolls onto her back again, and stares up at the empty ceiling.

A little thought starts to worm its way up to the front about her reasons. No, I'm not Millicent…but I could still sleep with her?  

Hermione was quick to shut that down again, "Absolutely not."

No sex, just sleep! We won't do anything . Obviously!  

"Obviously…" Hermione muttered to her own ridiculous thoughts. "We wouldn't have sex. Where did that even come from?" 

Okay, it's not like I wasn't invited—she wanted me to sleep with her. Sleep. Not sex. Her thoughts had to add a citation to the context. As if this same little thought in her brain wasn't the one trying to pressure her to masturbate earlier. 

"No, the invite expired, and anyways, she's probably asleep by now, like I should be!"

She might not be, though! Just knock!

"No." Hermione turned onto her side then.  But, why not?

Why am I still arguing with myself? I know damn well why not! 

Hermione knew her brain very well, as it was her own brain, and she could only find more reasons not to get out of bed by playing Devil's Advocate with herself. She sounded disappointed in having to do that though—

"Guild tripping myself doesn't work!"

Oh, but I want it to work… "I'm already in my own bed, I'm better off sleeping here on my own than to waste my time embarrassing myself by going back over."

Right, so when the sleeping here doesn't work out, how about I— No! Her shameless thoughts grew quiet after scolding it, but she still continued to think about it.

There was no need to remain so hot and cold with Pansy, the other witch had confessed that the two should be partners—even friends, if possible , and there was nothing wrong if the two wanted to share the same bed with the invitation right there. The possibility of this marriage lasting two years, and Hermione was still not going to get used to Pansy's presence? 

In order to make things easier between the two, Hermione was going to have to give in and actually allow Pansy into her life, even if in name , they were wives.  

If I can't even be myself in this marriage…this whole thing being my brilliant idea…how can Pansy be confident in following through with it---with me?

"..."

Hermione is now quick to jump out of bed then while her own thoughts start to mock her, Look at that! Success in guilt tripping myself!

She couldn't stand herself doing that, but each step away from her bed after she snatched up her wand was quite easy and whatever guilt she had lifted. Though, back in front of Pansy's bedroom door and knocking was not the easy part, but the Gryffindor in her knocks anyways. 

The knocking isn't as loud as Hermione's current heart rate, but her brain is now scrambling with an excuse if Pansy actually lets her come back. It's only seconds when Pansy comes to the door and opens it.

"Back so soon, Granger?" Pansy's head leans up against her own door frame, her hair is messy at her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, and her teddy slip was already wrinkled. 

Hermione guesses that Pansy was already drifting off to sleep before the knock. Behind Pansy was darkness with the vanity mirror turned off, but there was a crack of light from the bathroom that Hermione could still see. 

Hermione's brain, like a slot machine, comes up with a combination of words in order to make a sentence, "Sleep in the big bed." 

Only after saying it did Hermione realize how stupid that had sounded!

The corners of Pansy's lips lift up into a smile when listening, not bothered by lack of intelligence coming from Hermione's mouth, "Yeah, I knew I could entice you with it, " She then winks and her warm hand clasps Hermione's wrist and guides her back in, "Come to bed with me."

Pansy's words and that wink excited Hermione's heart, but she could only dull it when pulled into the darkness. Oh, this really wasn't good for my health…

She follows Pansy back to the bed. It's warm. It's soft. The fragrance of jasmine and berries makes Hermione feel content. Hermione is able to rest her head onto the pillow, she is unable to fully see Pansy who climbs in onto the other side, but there is a silhouette of the woman lying beside her. The curved outline of her figure rises and falls as Pansy catches her own breath, it softens down to a calm pace now. 

Pansy's hand is still in Hermione's, but none of them had plans to separate. 

"Goodnight, Hermione." Pansy finally gets to say back to the other witch. 

Hermione is more gentle and patient with her own, as her eyelids start to feel heavy to the sound and smell of Pansy lying next to her, "Goodnight…Pansy."

Above their heads is the magical sky. A hazy interstellar made up of sparkling stardust and magic continues to float and swirl as they slowly drift off to sleep. None yet able to call the other, 'dear' or 'darling' without their irony and sarcasm, but it would be some time before the two could truly start calling themselves dear to one another. 

Chapter Text

23rd of April, 2007 9:32 A.M.:

The weather that day had been cool and foggy; the grass was still damp with dew. Sitting on an iron bench, Pansy was brewing in her thoughts that morning while at her new residency.

It had been a long morning with the back and forth of owls, some had even included Howlers, but Pansy dismissed such drivel and pathetic attempts at threatening her; her cannibalistic cousins only wanting to take advantage of the situation, but those men would someday have their own day of reckoning and Pansy will be sure to never lift a finger to help them, even if they grovel to her own high heels. 

Pansy was dressed in a blue wool coat, and her hair had been tied high with a black velvet ribbon. On her lap had been a porcelain bowl filled with slices of banana, the pretty witch tossed the fruit out to the happy carp in the pond, their scales of calico, red and even a large gold came up to the surface of the water that had floating flower petals from the wisterias and blooming plum trees that surrounded Pansy. 

There had been many childhood summers spent here at Plum Manor, and the koi pond had always been one of her favorite spots on the property, a young Pansy constantly sticking her hand curiously into the pond to try and pet the carp before her mother would come rushing over to scoop her up before Pansy would fall in for what might have been the fifth attempt in doing so. 

She used to pick the plums by hand with her brothers in the orchard, Pansy would sit upon Mihael's shoulders while his fraternal twin brother, Milomir, would race down the rows of trees, Milo's loud yell for them to catch up with him, the sun rays breaking through the branches and shining on their inky black hair that they share with their father and the fragrance of the plum blossoms that came with the soft breeze that pressed up against their flushed cheeks. 

Spent many a rainy day in the sunroom, sprawled across the floorboard with her brothers, looking up at the falling rain drops that hit the glass ceiling, their attempts to play outside futile by their mum blocking every plan the three had made up with Milomir's make-shift tactical map that had really just been their scribbles written in colorful sticks of wax on square pieces of parchment that was spell-o-taped together.

Those sweet summer days before Mihael closed a study door in Pansy's face and said he was too old to play such childish games, before Milomir met the powerful swing of Millicent after the crazed and desperate twenty-year old wizard tried to point his wand at his own fifteen year old sister and demanded Pansy give him 20,000 Galleons, because their grandfather had already cut him off from his gambling habit.

When Pansy had only been seven years old, her grandfather had promised her the Plum Manor once she was married, because she had loved visiting it, the only complaint she had was that her mum never let her play in the pond. At the time, he had teased her about marrying a handsome prince, but by her twenties the promise had been to urge her to find a beautiful wife to marry instead. Her grandfather loves her dearly, no matter if she grew up rotten because of him, and he never minded that his granddaughter preferred the company of only witches. His promise had stayed true, even if it was news he hadn't been expecting, and on such short notice with luggage attached to it. 

For Pansy, this should all feel like a reward to her, but she only feels like she had been banished to Plum Manor to remain out of sight and out of mind while Pansy's family bailed out that 'darling' wife of her's with a muggle marriage certificate that she gave to them. 

Maybe that was a bit dramatic to call it 'banishment' , but she doesn't know what is going on outside of these wards or how she was going to be implemented in all of this. If it worked…if Hermione Granger held up until Pansy could send her aid…if her father kept to his sworn oath to the peony that he wouldn't harm the woman…if the world was out there burning to the ground with the news that Pansy Parkinson was married to Hermione Granger…

When Pansy heard that Corruption Officer Patil had handcuffed and escorted Hermione from her flat, Pansy first woke her own father out of bed and accused him of being the one to have sent evidence to the authorities. Pansy had found it rather unlikely that the MLE would just make such an arrest over a Rita Skeeter article— arresting a well-known and popular official like that would only lead to everyone wanting to attempt the same thing over just stealing one's promotion!

A year prior Pansy's father had caught on to their little operation, and forbade her from being involved with Hermione Granger as if Pansy was still a child that knew no better. After the January article, her father threatened then that he would report Hermione so that Pansy could see the other witch reveal her 'true colors' —that was just too bad for him at the time though, Pansy had already married the witch.

He couldn't do anything then, but tear it all up in a fit of rage, and mock Pansy.

But, she believed this time her father must have found a way to implement only Hermione and not suffer the consequences himself, as Igor Parkinson was cunning and slimy enough to figure it out! The two had fought in hushed whispers upstairs in the attic, keeping out of sight from her mum who was still in bed. 

The wizard denied he had been the one to do it, he even swore on their family's peony crest.  Hermione was his daughter-in-law, even if Igor and Yvette were the only ones to know, Hermione was a Parkinson by marriage, if not by heart, and he could do very little to the muggleborn. 

And that was because there was only one man that Igor Parkinson was afraid of, much like his brothers, much like their own children, and that was the Head of the Parkinson House. Pansy's grandfather would have been livid if it was Igor to cause such a mess that uprooted the harmony of the Parkinson family and placed their house and kitchenware company as public enemy #1 by the press and ministry, even if Pansy's marriage would come as a shock to the old man, even if his eldest son had been favored by him, Pansy's grandfather would have put Igor's head on a Parkinson platter right then and there to set an example of what it meant if Borimir Parkinson ever caught any of them putting the entire House of Parkinson to shame, oh, and no one upsets his precious granddaughter, not even if it was Pansy's own father. 

For Pansy he was only feigning his innocence. Pansy couldn't believe a word from her father anymore, Hermione had been an annoying thorn in his side at the ministry and it only grew worse since he learned of his daughter's marriage to the witch, "It could only be you! You knew all about it! It was you who snooped through my own things, and had I not told you I was married to her, you would have reported her for it! Ever since then, you've been wanting me to divorce Hermione—I'm sure you found a way this time!"

Oh, how Pansy was still kicking herself for not using a more powerful spell lock on the cupboard below her nightstand. He took away all of Hermione's little notes that Pansy secretly treasured and held onto. He tore them all into little bits and pieces and made it rain down upon Pansy's head like confetti— who could say that he didn't leave one intact?

Igor had bags under his eyes. He had been agitated that Pansy refused to believe her own father. He aggressively grabbed his daughter by the shoulders, the movement causing Pansy to fall back into a tapestry that had been partly rolled up and leaning on an antique furniture covered up with white sheets. The cloud of dust had caused Pansy to choke. 

Her father spoke with gritted teeth, "If you'd think with your head for once and not that foolish heart, you'd know that I have only ever helped you! Do you not know the position that you've placed me under after that budget form—how this will still implement me? For what I had to do for you? Did you think Granger was going to cover it up for you? I'm more aware of the truth that she only ever cleaned up after herself. That forged signature would have traced straight back to you had I not taken care of the matter and don't tell me that the brilliant witch didn't know about that!"

Igor steps away from Pansy then and bitterly laughs at her while she recovers from her coughing fit of all dust in the air, "Don't ask for my help anymore…you're better off crying to your grandfather. He's always been softer to you than your brothers. I'm sure he'll step in— " He then sneered in thought, "Make us all bend over backwards just to help that…wife of yours!"  Her father had hissed those words out like it pained him to even acknowledge Hermione Granger. 

He then hoped to place doubt and mistrust between the two witches as if it would even work," That is of course if she hasn't sold you out already!"

Out of all the ridiculous witches Pansy could have chosen, out of all the ones that barely held a fraction to Millicent Bulstrode's shadow, Igor had vocally wished to Pansy that she didn't pick the very one that would drag Pansy straight to hell and not feel any remorse for it, to not even understand why his own daughter would gladly follow into it…and he knew exactly what kind of self-righteous monster Hermione Granger was. 

Igor stormed from the attic then, but a last parting of his traveled up the stairs to Pansy's ears, "I hope you're prepared for what comes after, Panteley, once your brothers and cousins learn of this, they won't sit idle to the news, and there is no Millicent at your side for them to be afraid of anymore…"

After the clear warning about her own inheritance and hearing the girl's name, Pansy had fiercely drawn her wand and sent the dusty old tapestry flying down the stairway at the man, only for it to completely miss her father as the old door hinges creak and shut behind him, then followed by a light chuckle that mocks Pansy, "No Millicent to aim for you, either."

Pansy has never had the best aim…

Her cousins have already sent their first Howlers, but she blacklisted them from her postbox so Hermione won't have to hear a bunch of entitled man-babies crying to Pansy about what would happen if she didn't comply with their wishes. Her father never needed to warn her, Pansy was well aware that now that the first Incendo had been cast at her by somebody else her cousins would make their own moves soon, while she could guess what those men were capable of doing behind her grandfather's back with having experienced their past childish attempts, there was no Millie today to strike fear in their hearts to make them think twice to such malicious trickery. 

Once they find that Hermione Granger cared very little for Pansy and won't bother with her affairs, they'll go right in for the kill. Pansy knows that Boyan, the son of her second uncle, meant that literally.

Pansy's brothers and cousins have been eyeing her grandfather's fortune ever since they understood the value of a knut; doing everything they could to prove themselves worthy to it, only for it be placed unofficially and 'undeservingly' upon the only witch of Parkinson blood. It wasn't as if she was the sole inheritor , they would all get pieces of it, but those men felt entitled to being the one to run and take over the ' empire ' that her grandfather had built up by his own magic and blood. 

A sudden tingle crawled across Pansy's skin as the wards alerted her of a visitor, and with the sound of a light crack, someone finally showed up to her manor. Pansy can hear the sound of shoes pacing and crunching against the gravel and stone, she could hear a woman, most likely Hermione, asking for something, though the witch is speaking too low for Pansy to know as to what. A man's voice had been loud enough for Pansy to hear his reply instead though, 

"Knowing of her habits since she was a child, I believe Mrs. Granger is in the garden around the back of the manor—there is a beautiful koi pond there, oh, and just to the east of the valley are the prized plum orchards of the Parkinson Family, you should take a stroll with Mrs. Granger, it is very lovely this time of year with the blossoms in bloom. If you take the footpath here, it should lead you straight to the pond and her. If there are any further questions you may owl my assistant or directly owl the ancestral home to ask for me—with that, I'll take my leave. Good day to you, Madam Granger!"

After her grandfather's solicitor apparated, Pansy can now hear the sound of shoes crunching against the gravel and stone that made up the winding footpath that led straight to the back gardens of Parkinson Plum Manor. 

Pansy doesn't yet look behind her, only tilting her head just a bit to the shoulder, the tail end of her pony-tail slides off to hang and lightly swing in motion behind her back. She expects that Hermione will be exhausted and irritated after having the MLE knocking on her door at around four that morning. 

The carp in the pond splash about again, keeping her from focusing on the footsteps behind her. Pansy tosses more banana slices into the water. She watched the ripples in the water while waiting for Hermione.

Her grandfather's words came back to mind from when Pansy stood before him, and begged for him to help Hermione, "...is this really what you want?"

The old man had sat in his office chair that had only ever looked like a throne to her siblings and cousins, eyeing Pansy with a serious expression, but his own speckled gold eyes were warm when he asked the question. 

Pansy had answered her grandfather, not wanting to show him any doubts when she knew the meaning behind that question, "Yes."

How can it not be her ?

A voice speaks up from behind Pansy now, "Nice place, Parkinson," 

Pansy eyes move away from the rippling water and onto the witch that now stands at her side beside the garden bench. Hermione was wearing a beige trench coat. There were rain droplets still left on her shoulder from where she had apparated from— it must have been raining in London then, Pansy had thought calmly. 

Hermione is polite, but it doesn't sound at all like she is speaking to her wife, it was only just like how the two would normally interact with the other; brief conversation and quick goodbyes, but this ' nice place ' now belonged to Hermione too, and it couldn't be just brief conversation and quick goodbyes between them anymore, because moving forward the two had to play their parts with their corrected smiles on their faces and lie about being in love, to lie about not being in love.

The enchanted garden was truly beautiful with the green mixed with the purple, pinks and blue of the wisterias and shrubbery that bloomed with spring flowers. Off in the distance one could see the blooming orchard, the fruit not yet to be harvested until late summer and fall. The two were quiet then as the soft breeze rustled the leaves and blossoms. They watch the carp swim about and eat the banana slices when the fruit hits the water. 

The two hadn't seen each other face to face since January, the last time had been when the two shared, 'I do ' in front of some officiant that Hermione duped into giving them a marriage certificate while still in his pajamas, and the two afterwards tried not to draw too much attention to themselves, but that failed immensely this time. They had been expecting the article, but they were not expecting Hermione to be arrested and taken into custody like that.

Pansy soon begins to curiously ask, "How did it go, Granger?"

Hermione answers with a shrug, "I held up until your family came to bail me out." She then pulls her hands out of her trench coat pockets, and takes the spot next to Pansy. There was only a few centimeters between the two. "And, if Padma owls you in, don't drink the tea. She tried to pull that tactic on me when I openly refused the serum the first time…"

Pansy scrunches up her face at hearing about Padma's unethical practice, "If not already having a solicitor who'll nail her in for that in court, I'm also very well aware to never drink anything from the MOM—I even bring my own personal tea with me if I have to see my dad!"

Hermione could be heard muttering under her breath at Pansy being more distrustful of ministry officials than she was, "The serum is not that much of an issue, especially when there are ways to bypass the effects if you have a steady mind, but that's fair…"

One reason for Pansy would be for the low quality of tea leaves that would only be served to her, but the other was from fifteen year old Pansy having witnessed it first hand from Dolores Umbridge— the likely culprit as to why their generation of Hogwartians declines the tea when it's offered at the Ministry. She remembered how the old toad would give Pansy and Daphne hard winks to add a few drops more of the veritaserum when serving the tea to Harry Potter's friends, along with having a student ask suspiciously, "Is there something in your eye, Professor?" 

With those habits the woman had when being Minister Fudge's Under-Secretary, the woman couldn't have been the only one at the Ministry who liked to add a few drops of truth serum into one's tea along with the milk and sugar. All one would need is to make the right connections with a talented potion master to brew it for them!

Naturally, as Slytherins do when watching resources go to waste on students that had no interest in falling for Umbridge's tea, Pansy just pocketed the little leftover for her own personal use— and how embarrassing that had been for Pansy later when Millicent forced it down Morag Flint's throat only for the girl to ask them in confusion why she was being forced to drink water!

At the time, Pansy didn't want to be laughed at by Morag for believing the veritaserum was ever real, if Morag found out the truth she would never let Pansy forget it! "Uh, what? No it's—We're water curing, obviously! Now tell me the truth about how it was you who took advantage of the situation and tried to hit me with that bat bogey hex and not Weaslette or you'll be telling us all what Moaning Myrtle's toilet water tastes like next!"

The threat ended up being way more efficient, even if Tracey kept trying to correct Pansy about how the muggle torture acually was supposed to go. Pansy had to hiss under her breath with disgust and embarrassment with Millicent in the background showing Morag the toilets, "Shut up, Trace! We're not actually going to do that weird muggle shit to her!"

But, besides that embarrassing little hiccup with a vial of fake veritaserum, Pansy still enjoyed watching the show of students making up wild stories about their personal lives when they were all just pretending to tell the old toad the truth about their secret little club.

At that little reminder of Dumbledore Army's comadre of sticking together, Pansy asks suddenly with some confusion, "Weren't you friends with Padma—shared a club, anyway? Wouldn't she know that you also knew that little trick first hand with Umbridge— even if it was fake?"

Even if the club was disbanded after the war, there should still be some friendship between the two women, right? At least to the extent that Padma shouldn't be low enough to dose Hermione's tea. 

Before answering about Padma, Hermione asks, "Wait. How did you know that was actually fake?" 

"..."

Pansy shouldn't know a thing about that, and at the time, while Hermione had her suspicions that it might have been fake at sixteen with Snape being part of the Order of the Phoenix, she couldn't confirm it being fake either, because she didn't dare sip the tea and no one was brave enough to confess to the Gryffindor trio that they tried the tea in the first place to give her any solid proof on the matter. 

Pansy Parkinson was still not going to tell Hermione the embarrassing truth of how she found out. Of course know-it-all Hermione Granger knew it was fake!  

Wanting to sound just as intelligent as the brilliant witch, "Be for real, Granger—you know that Snape remembered every ingredient and amount that we took from his stores. He was not going to waste a vial of his precious veritaserum on that woman and a bunch of school children." 

Hermione hums along to that as if she agreed to how stingy Professor Snape had been with his potions ingredients, while internally thinking to herself, ' The amount of times we stole from his stores just to brew a strictly regulated potion in an empty girl's lavatory…and how he always knew anyway… may he rest.'

Pansy on the other hand, who grew up with old suspicions for talking bad about the dead: My cauldron better not end up with a scorched bottom for just calling my late Head of House cheap to save my own image…

Suddenly, the gold carp splashed its tail aggressively about in the pond for Pansy to keep the banana slices coming. She could only abide by the spoiled fish's wishes and tossed more slices out in the water. Pansy watched them all excitedly pile over the other for the fruit now. 

Hermione finally answers Pansy about Padma with a shrug of her shoulders, "I didn't think she would be so difficult with me about it, but honestly, we weren't that close back at Hogwarts. I knew her twin sister better, because we happened to share a dorm." She then added in thought to something, as she stared down at the multi-color carp then, "Maybe she just wants a promotion, and I'm the big fish that could get her that. "

Pansy then asks Hermione if Padma had plans to raid the Elf Welfare office, too. 

"Already did, and Padma can turn my entire office upside down for all she likes, she won't find anything there. A search warrant for my flat is pending, but I doubt it'll be authorized, because the illegally acquired personal finances. Whatever shady channel Padma got that from, it's moot anyways, because our proof of marriage explains away the bribery. Honestly, if Padma wants anything, she'll have to stick with my office financial records as her only supposed evidence of corruption, which again, nothing there that could show I did anything wrong. It all adds up and the money went directly to where it said it would on the budget form. No one can say it wasn't approved, because your dad's stamp is right there and for just being my father-in-law is a whole can of worms they don't want to touch."

Ew. Nobody wants to hold a can of worms, Granger? But, most importantly, who illegally got a hold of our records in the first place then? 

Pansy's suspicions about her father grew again, but she turned to Hermione on the bench to ask instead,"How long do you think this will go on for then?"

Hermione stares up at the blooming trees that overlook the garden, before straightening her neck again, "Well, Minister Shacklebolt personally told me that it should drop within two weeks and my suspension should be lifted by then too. In the meantime, Padma doesn't want me speaking to anyone that works under me so as to not interfere or contaminate her investigation—Now, Padma was a bit upset that she couldn't stop me from seeing you, my own wife ."

It could be two weeks, but it might also last longer. If someone could 'steal' bank records right under the goblins' noses, who's to say they can't find something else to add to the investigation? 

They still haven't found out who originally revealed their connection with Rita — there was no way that old beetle could come up with that on her own! Pansy knows the temperament of her own cousins and brothers, and knew it would not just be them that would try to stir up more. There were a lot of people that would still love to get back at Pansy and Hermione for a number of things that they both did in their youth to even now. 

Pansy asks Hermione now, "We know Rita has been sitting on this since last year, just biding her time with you, I mean, she did have that picture of us sitting together, so we were clearly staked out.  Did you ever learn anything on your end about who might have been her source for that January article?"

Hermione had been quiet while watching the carp swim about, until finally she confessed something, "I didn't say anything before to you, because I took care of it, but Ginny had tried to pry last year, because she had seen us at that restaurant. So, I did go back to question her back in January when that article came out, but she told me it wasn't her…" The witch then firmly added before Pansy could question Harry's wife, "And, I believe her."

To have that much confidence in knowing someone wouldn't betray her was something that Pansy didn't have—not even with her closest friends or father. Pansy couldn't confirm anything about the others yet, but she was still suspicious of her father. She won't be voicing those concerns about her father to Hermione, though. The only one that  she could probably think of having nothing to do with it was Blaise Zabini, at least only for the first article. He had confronted Pansy like it had been the first time he was hearing about it and wanted to be sure she wasn't back to her old habits of chasing witches that would never be Millicent. 

"Okay, I believe her too then…" At this current time, Pansy didn't trust Ginny Potter at all, but she wasn't going to fight that with Hermione, "But, once it gets out that you were arrested this morning by the Ministry, it'll be news to everyone that Rita had to have something real on you … I suppose, with how these things always go, enough false stories and reports will start owling in to waste Rita's and Padma's time for now, but there might also be real information among those that Padma could easily fact check…My grandfather promised he'll intervene as much as he can about Rita's article and Padma's investigation too, but he won't be able to catch everything."

It'll get even uglier once we announce out of nowhere that we're married. 

Hermione gives Pansy a suspicious glare now, "Well, you said your dad found out about the marriage—No, you told him about it, while I wouldn't think he would want to risk his job by exposing us, he couldn't have been happy about me, right?" 

Despite not having looked the witch directly in the eye, it felt as if Pansy's thoughts had been exposed— Hermione should only know Occlumency not Legilimancy !

Pansy did tell Hermione that her parents knew, and even reassured Hermione on how her parents would be able to back their marriage if trouble arised. And, it did work! My dad was quick to go and fetch Hermione from the Ministry with the marriage certificate in his hands. Of course, he likely gritted his teeth when doing it, but he couldn't refuse my grandfather's demands.

Pansy certainly didn't tell Hermione the truth about how it came to be that her father knew in the first place. 

She huffs, and suddenly acts like a puffed up kitten to defend herself, "Tell him?! Granger,  it's kind of hard to hide about being married in a magical family—your name popped up on my mother's damn tapestry at home! I didn't think it could register muggle marriages! It's just a floppy piece of paper!"

The family tapestry at home was how Yvette Parkinson originally found out and it was the story she told to Hermione about both her parents! Her mum had just so happened to take it down for cleaning when she caught sight of the eligible threading of ' Hermione Jean Granger ' smack down next to her daughter's full wizarding name and even came to Pansy in the middle of a modeling shoot to ask about it!

Hermione is quick to explain why that had happened, "It's still legally binding —there was thought and purpose that went into it, and we're witches …that should be enough to tell you that magic went into it somewhere!"

It might not have been in the ink of the pen when they signed their names, the paper might not have been enchanted, there may not have been a ceremony of spells, but their magic had bound to those 'I Dos' as their agreement to the marriage. 

Even if the marriage was fraudulent, their binding agreement was the same as any promise or debt that had to be paid, the same magic that went into how a wizard saves another's life, and for the binding debt of the savior to be paid back in the future, even if there was no written word or a handshake, it was owed without one to even realize it. 

Pansy wanted to move far away from Hermione framing her for any of this, "So, what should we do now? You still have your embezzlement charges against you." 

She already knows what to do now, but wanted to be sure that they were still committed to what had to be done when Hermione first came up with the idea. 

Hermione rubs the bridge of her nose with her index finger to smooth out the wrinkles in between her eyebrows, "Our plans are still the same as when I first suspected Rita ousting me for bribery. We pretend to be a loving couple who eloped in secret because of our identities and controversy in front of everyone...Now, if we're not committed to that plan anymore, with my lack of sleep, I've contemplated going back in time to stop this all from happening…"

"Time travel?" Pansy was shocked by such an extreme—even out of all the witches to say that, she didn't think Hermione would choose such an irresponsible move. But, Hermione had already surprised her with the proposal option. 

Didn't Mintumble get turned to dust over that? Wake up, Granger!

There was another impatient splash, "..." Pansy could only continue to feed the greedy pond with the last of the banana.

"Yeah, if nothing else…like the bottom of the barrel kind of idea." 

Hermione shrugs while watching how the last of the banana was gobbled up quickly and Pansy muttering to the fish that it was all gone now. 

Pansy looks at Hermione suspiciously, "Yeah, okay, but why do you talk about time travel like we could just pop in for tea?"

Honestly, Hermione probably was brilliant enough to pull off time travel on her own—just give her a whole library on the subject to figure it out!

Silence falls in between the two women, until Hermione cautiously starts to say to the pretty witch, " We? Who said I was going to invite you?"

Embarrassed at her own assumptions, Pansy scowls back at the brilliant witch, "You're already being investigated for bribery and embezzlement! You want time-foolery added on to that?"

Hermione retorted back with sarcasm, "Oh yeah, and just add marriage fraud to our crime cocktail that we've mixed up for ourselves—because that's what will happen if you ever report me, Mrs. Granger!"

Who said anything about me reporting her?! "I was just warning you, but fine! Turn to dust, Madam Granger! Not like I care—Not like I signed my whole life on a flimsy piece of paper all for you to turn to dust and make me a widow—"

"You—Don't be dramatic! I'm not going to turn to dust in two years—you can't even be considered a widow if we're not married at that point!"

Pansy then sarcastically corrects herself, "Oh, great! Divorced and not know it!"

Hermione crosses her arms and leans back with a snort, "Well, we never signed a prenuptial…so you should be relieved by not knowing."

"I don't even get money from your life insurance if we're divorced!"

"Stop trying to kill me off!"

The fish suddenly scattered from the rising noise between the fraudulent couple sitting in the beautiful garden surrounded by spring flowers that were just in bloom. No, the two bickering witches won't time travel. They can't go back to the night where the two sat across from each other in a private room with loud club music playing and where Hermione offered Pansy an accord. 

They can only move forward with the choices that were made when wanting to get ahead in life, and finally learn something from each other —about others, about themselves. 

《——》

The reflective light of rippling water covers Pansy's surroundings as she opens her eyes to the Slytherin dorms; a cool draft flows over her skin and Pansy hears the content humming of the barrier that holds Black Lake from seeping into the ancient stone and sturdy glass windows. 

It's an afternoon, it's a morning, it's a familiar day , it's a day she wished had been real ...but she already knows that it's just a dream…

Pansy turned over on the four poster bed with the thin curtains open and were blowing softly with a cold permanent draft to the dungeons. She finds the broad back of a girl facing away from her, sitting in a wooden chair, and hand-braiding her long brown hair.

"Millie." She whispers low to the girl who lifts up her head, but barely looks over her shoulder at Pansy when called.

Pansy tries again, sounding a bit desperate to see Millicent's face, "Will you look at me…please…" 

The girl quietly turns in her seat, and blinks softly with a questioning look of what Pansy needed from her, Millicent's mouth is grim, the only smile is a corner twitch to her lips, and Pansy likes how the light casts over copper eyes.

There is a tremor in Pansy's breath, as she knows the girl in front of her isn't alive anymore. It feels so long ago since she had last seen Millicent, and no treasured photograph of the girl could feel as real as this dream. 

" Do you think I'm a fool?" Pansy asks the girl. 

She wants to hear 'no .', she wants to hear that she is so, so close to figuring it all out.

Millicent is quiet, it's seconds of pondering the answer that Pansy actually wants out of her, but finally, with her brow furrowed, just as stern as Hermione's own, her mouth opens, but no words can be heard.

Pansy lifts her body up with an anxious heart and was afraid the dream of Millie would shift and disappear before her eyes. 

"Millie…"

Her hand is held out for Millie to come close, and the girl is obedient, standing up from the chair to let the gentle touch of Pansy caress her own cheek. The curtain blows over Millicent's face before lowering gently again.

Starry green eyes find that what her hand holds is none other than Hermione Granger's own face, Pansy falls in a trance to the splashes of freckles across the nose and warm brown eyes of the powerful witch that sends a shiver down her spine.

"You're not a fool, Pansy."

Millie was gone, but there was Hermione.

Pansy's dream slips away as she hears her alarm chime loudly into her ears— no, that's not my alarm!  

The only one here who had the habit of getting up early for work was Hermione, but the witch doesn't have anywhere to go in the mornings anymore, so why does she do that to herself?

She flutters her eyes open to find herself awake on a very early Monday morning, but this time she hopes to find at her side a disgruntled or stretching Hermione Granger who should be waking up from the same alarm—

It's empty, and Pansy's heart dips. 

Pansy hurriedly checks the nightstand on that side of the bed and she notices that it was Hermione's wand chiming next to the unlit lamp. Her wand is still on the nightstand, but she left?

Her next move was to check the temperature to see how long it's been since Hermione left the bed. She pressed her palm into the sheets and found that it was still reasonably warm. 

Just then the bathroom door opens up, and Pansy jerks back her hand. She looks up from her pillow to find Hermione still in an old muggle tee and cotton shorts, her curls and waves messy and tangled at the shoulders, and without the glamor charm to hide the exhaustion, Hermione had light purple circles under her eyes, but still looked refreshed with her face washed and teeth brushed.  

Hermione shuffles over toward the nightstand to dispel her own alarm. The witch raises her hand to brush through the tangles with her fingers, seemingly lost in thought after coming out of the bathroom and had not really noticed that Pansy was awake too.

Pansy's heart flutters to life at the sight of an early morning Hermione Granger who was still sleepy.

She likes the casual look of Hermione over the stuffy robes that the witch always wears over her clothes when she comes to Moonvine after work—bonus though when Hermione throws off those robes and rolls up her work sleeves to her elbows instead…clearly whenever Hermione reveals her forearms is what Pansy actually likes. 

Why are those little seconds of tension in the joint and muscles when the hand and wrist move make a woman so attractive?! Maybe it was just because Pansy's hormones knew that strong muscles in the wrist meant less cramping and long endurance for a particular activity. Just lifting pages alone wasn't an activity that Pansy ever thought she would find attractive or enjoy about Hermione Granger, but it did help to fantasize. The witch in front of her had the perfect ratio to Pansy's ideal forearm—

Stop! Why am I getting horny this early in the morning over Hermione just being in a muggle t-shirt, oh Morgana, what is wrong with me!?

Feeling her entire shoulders heat up from her thoughts, Pansy turned away to hide her face into her soft pillow and groaned in annoyance over it. 

Hermione hears the noise Pansy made, and freezes at the edge of the bed. 

"Oh—er, good morning. I forgot I had set an alarm to my wand, sorry it woke you."

"Mornin'." Pansy's voice muddled into the pillow, "It's fine." If she lifts up her head, she won't reveal herself looking like a pink prawn, right? "What time is it?"

Her suddenly very attractive wife doesn't answer her. Pansy looks up from her pillow to figure out why, and finds that Hermione was no longer looking at her, but at the window. There was a ringing noise of sorts from an owl outside of her own bedroom window. 

"Is that an owl?" Pansy needed confirmation on what she was hearing, "...that isn't Gracie, is it?"

The Parkinson Family had a few owls, but the one assigned to the Plum Manor was Gracie. A chubby long-eared owl that refused to do anything and was only motivated to send letters if she was given a treat. If you don't, she won't budge at all, and sometimes Gracie still won't move even if she was given a treat. Pansy knows it was one of her cousins who had the great idea to assign Gracie to this property just to sabotage her! 

Pansy had made a comment about it to Hermione upon introducing Gracie when the witch had needed to send her first letter off from the new residence, " If we're three treats and a mice in with Gracie, and she still won't move, we're better off handing the letter to the wind and hope it gets there…now we should be thankful, I guess, that her brother, Gilderoy, who doesn't know his East to his West just like the wizard himself, ended up at Parkinson Hollyhock Cottage…"

But, yes , if you can guess it, that property is also in Pansy's name…

Thankfully, Gracie still prefers her own roost and is absolutely more reliable than her own brother, so if Pansy is lucky to send the post out, Gracie will hurry home faster than most owls with a returned reply. Pansy didn't think a cute and chubby owl such as Gracie would be fast, but the bird constantly surprises her by being more diligent when doing so. 

Questioning it now, Pansy could have sworn she fed Gracie when she checked the evening post last night, and it wasn't yet the owl's scheduled breakfast time, so there shouldn't have been any complaints coming from that bird!

Hermione shakes her head, "Can't be. Gracie isn't a barn owl—as far as I know, long-eared owls have low hoots, they don't ring."

"..." Well, if Gracie got a dinner bell then she'd be ringing that thing for sure…

The witch walks around the bed and heads over to the window. She draws the long blue curtains back to reveal the pale white morning sky with some drizzling rain, and then swings the latch open to allow in the barn owl who was hovering at the window. He hurriedly swoops past Hermione and into the primary bedroom to dry himself off. 

The barn owl does a few roundabouts before deciding on who to give the letter in his talons to. The envelope ends up dropping right on top of Pansy. Then, without giving Hermione and Pansy any time to actually greet him or give a parting goodbye, the barn howl flies out the window again. 

Pansy starts grumbling her complaints while picking up the envelope that has few wet spots from the morning drizzle, "We have a postbox for a reason…surely the Point-Me charm on the house still works for the owls…" 

This at least couldn't be anything malicious, there were wards cast on the property to turn away owls that had unwanted or suspicious mail from unknown senders. 

Hermione goes to close the window to keep out the rain, "No, it all still works, so it must be urgent…"

Sitting up and leaning into the upholstered headboard and pillows, Pansy reads the envelope to find that it had been another letter sent from Gillard's—addressed to both of them this time. 

'Madam & Mrs. Granger, Parkinson Plum Manor, Suffolk, England.'

Pansy still isn't yet used to being called Mrs. Granger, but her fingers consciously trace over the dry ink. Hermione makes her way back to the bed curiously asking who the letter was from. 

The fingers halt and still hovers on the ' Granger ', "Gillards, again—for both of us this time," Pansy's lips twitch into a smile now, "So, I'm not sure which one of us is the one that is about to get into trouble…" But, remembering that she had just woken up, she felt the need to freshen up was more important than getting chewed out. Pansy hands the envelope off to Hermione to read instead, "You read it. I need my turn in the bathroom."

Hermione agrees by taking it, and opens the wax seal while Pansy rushes out of the bed to check herself in the mirror—she had to make sure there wasn't any dry drool on the corner of her mouth in front of the other woman! Finding nothing, Pansy proceeded to start her morning routine, even if it was a little too early for her own liking. 

Because she didn't close the door, Pansy could hear Hermione muttering darkly under her breath as she read through the letter. 

"What is it?" Pansy pushes her cloth headband over her hair to pull back her bangs, so she could wash and moisturize her face—but mostly applying it for her forehead, which is her dry zone and also her polyjuice security question for Daphne Greengrass.

Hermione steps partly into the doorway of the bathroom with some caution, but when finding Pansy wasn't actually on the toilet, she starts to ask with the letter still in hand, "Do you have a wireless in your room?"

"A portable one over by the vanity— why? " Pansy still had yet to get a proper answer out of Hermione for her own question.

From the mirror she watches Hermione disappear from view, but the witch finally does answer, "Veronica wants us to have a heads up about some hostess talking about our relationship right now.  And, what do you know, I actually recognize the name Catherine Almonds. She got someone to counter my silencing spell yesterday, but I now think she wants to lose her voice permanently from me…"

"..." Pansy stares at her own dewey reflection in the mirror, trying to comprehend what Hermione just told her, threat and all , and finally remembered Catherine herself. 

She wished they didn't have to remember that woman at all!

Her pretty features turned into a very ugly scowl just then, "What controversial thing can that woman even get away with saying at this hour? It's not even eight!"

Pansy didn't check the time, but it was too early for Catherine's nonsense.

Hermione begins to turn on the white wireless that sat on Pansy's vanity. Sounds of garbled voices, music and static starts coming in as the witch uses her wand to quickly get to the exact frequency that was the 'Rise Early With Almonds' show. 

Pansy now has to ruin her morning by hearing Catherine's gravelly laugh and the woman chatting to whichever guest she had on her morning show, " No, I'm serious—Listen, it's a serious question, Mabel. Have we ever seen these women kiss? I'm not talking about the cutesy cheeks stuff, okay? I'm talking full on snogging—"

Hermione's grumbling suddenly cuts off Catherine's obnoxious voice from the wireless, "How old does she think we are? I fully doubt anyone our age is just doing that on the street for all to see…"

Pansy starts to clean her teeth with a few spells, while Catherine continues on with her agenda even if interrupted by Hermione.

"—we're to believe that these two are married for love, just right when Granger was being investigated for bribery with the Parkinson Family? I think Rita was on to something with those two—they can't even shut her up, and you know what that means! Just think about it, let's all add a side of common sense with our fish here, okay?"  

The hostess laughs then, but Pansy can't find what is funny here. 

"There was gold transferred into Hermione Granger's office funds and it has been confirmed that this is Parkinson's money, but we're throwing that all out, because out of nowhere it became Granger's own personal funds and she is allowed to add it to her office? Just think about it folks, if they weren't married then Hermione Granger would still be charged and arrested right now for bribery alone!"

But, we are married! Everyone has been over this—even Padma understands this! Pansy thought as she started to gurgle her mouthwash, and suddenly found it difficult that she can't roll her eyes at the same time without almost choking, so she spits it out into the sink, and grumbles as she wipes her mouth with a wet cloth.

The guest on the show has a nervous chuckle with Catherine, and having some media training, tries to play it safe as to not be targeted by the Parkinson Family or Hermione Granger for whatever is said by the hostess on this wireless morning show she had been invited on to by her agent, "Well, when you're married, mi casa su casa , am I right? Even if they weren't married, why is the Parkinson Family not allowed to personally donate to the Elf Welfare Office? I don't think there should be this big controversy that the Parkinson family wants to support the next generation of elves. Is it even wrong to have Hermione on their side—what if they're helping her write an elf workers policy and that's how the two witches started to get along? We don't know! I think such a partnership should be encouraged, not ridiculed that they're willing to work with Hermione Granger in private and openly."

That would have been a great story, but Rita made sure everyone knew that it was because I wanted to be Miss October! Also, my grandfather doesn't need Hermione's support. 

Pansy is quick to suddenly shout from the bathroom, before her 'darling' wife decides she wants to take a boring tour of the Parkinson company and factory as an outing after this, "Just so you know, everything is all up to code! It's all wizard-made. We have had 0 accidents in…at least the last four months and the last guy was compensated! It's a magic factory! A lot of spell mishaps can happen, but the elves that work there are perfectly safe, Granger!" 

Hermione has way too much free time to follow up on the company work conditions for elves and wizards! Pansy doesn't want to stand there at an assembly line for hours while Hermione makes the factory supervisor sweat to accommodate a Parkinson family member's questions and surprise inspection with tea and biscuits when they likely have a shipment order to get back to! 

"..." Hermione at the vanity didn't say anything to her about the elves at her family's company, but why does Pansy sound like there is something shady going on?

Catherine answers her guest's question, "—lesson for Mabel and you all at home, under a ministry clause it is not considered donating if it doesn't go through the proper channels. The Ministry needs to be the middle-man to make it even remotely okay for even superficial reasons—those two were doing it all under the table just so Pansy could get her face on a magazine. That kitchenware princess does not care about the elves!"

No, I care! I just think it is an inconvenience in not having one around the house to help us from having a muggle dry cleaning fiasco… Stop trying to get her to hate me, Cathy!

Pansy cries foul about Catherine, "Don't listen to her—I care!"

Again, Hermione didn't say anything.

"Oh, and the fish stinks for Hermione Granger when we add in the embezzlement allegations, because the Parkinson Family helped her with that too—it's sad, but it's the truth that the Elf Welfare Office would not normally get those approved funds, people! Pansy's father is the Head of Finance, what can't Hermione do then? The Ministry itself would have never authorized the amount that she took from them– taken from us, had they actually looked at that form! I heard that the budget went up by twenty thousand galleons, when originally it should have just been 200. Come on, why are we still allowing her to walk the streets when it is right in front of us?"

Mabel hurriedly tries to add as if her life depended on it, and it probably did, because Pansy was already trying to think who this little nobody celebrity was, "Okay, but they can still be in love!"

Catherine directly shouts to her listeners with an annoyed response, "They're not in love! They are acting! Especially so for Pansy Parkinson—she's doing all the heavy lifting there!" Before Mabel could help correct her by saying Granger , Catherine cuts the other woman off, "No, I'm not using the married name! I have my sources. Okay, any witch that buys her a drink—even if she's supposedly in a relationship with Hermione, she'll sit in your lap—that's the type of witch she is. It's easy to play the part of being a tease for Pansy, because she does it all the time! Buy her a drink, you'll see what I mean!"

Is she shaming me?! 

Pansy steps out from the bathroom and glares at the wireless as if she was actually glaring at the woman who was speaking,  "Oh piss off, Cathy!"

Hermione sitting at the vanity didn't look any better when listening to Catherine start to vent out her frustrations to her listeners tuning in, all because the woman's ego got bruised by her yesterday.

"—now Hermione? A wooden stick! No emotion! No passion! Just draw a little smiley face on the stick, give us something to work with, am I right?"

Pansy sneered. Wrong! And, you keep your ink away from my wife!

Mabel was still doing her best at dodging every lawsuit possible from the Parkinson Family, "We don't know that, Cathy. Hermione could probably be a very passionate lover behind closed doors, but even if she wasn't, it's not our business."

"Wow, thanks…" Pansy can hear the wooden stick finally muttering a response. 

Hermione's elbow is resting on the surface of the vanity while she leans her cheek into her hand when listening to Mabel fighting for Hermione's honor against Catherine Almonds.

"..." Pansy stares at Hermione's dominant left-hand. I don't personally know, but I think I know that Hermione could make another woman very happy. And, a horny Pansy this morning wished that was her business. 

"No, Mabel, I know them personally—I was invited to my little cousin's wedding, you know, the Nott-Lovegood wedding that has been the talk of magical society lately, I was there with them!"

The guest hums now, "Yeah, I was there too—"

Catherine didn't care if the woman was actually there, she preferred to brag to her listeners that weren't invited, "Beautiful venue, but those were some ugly tables, little cousin…"  Pansy doubts that Theo, a very busy wizard, was listening to this woman, nor knew who she was on his own family tree, "Nobody knows this about me, but I'm really close with Ron, we've been with each other before." 

You had a one night stand, Cathy! 

"He's a sweet guy, and ladies…the rumors are true~ He's a big one—"

Pansy, instead of dry heaving, decides to shout over Catherine's words, "Turn her off!"

Hermione turns up the volume instead. 

"..." Was this a bad quidditch accident that Hermione couldn't turn away from?

Why did they have to continue sitting around listening to yesterday's recap? Pansy already knows the hostess is trying to get another rile out of them now that she was a whole wireless frequency away from Hermione Granger. 

The brilliant witch probably just didn't hear Pansy properly because she was planning out Catherine Almond's accidental death in her head, which now that Pansy thought about it, that had to be the case... at least Hermione was thinking about this one more rationally.

Pansy pulls off the cloth headband and puts it onto the vanity next to Hermione now. She then stares down at the wireless that she wanted to chuck straight out the window and in the rain. 

I won't do that, but Pansy was still thinking about it. 

Catherine prattles away, "So, I was sitting at the same table as them—"

Pansy's impatience causes her to snap again, "Cut the crap, Cathy. Your C-tier celebrity ass couldn't have even sat with me…"

Hermione's mouth visibly twitches upward in amusement now when hearing Pansy's reaction, "Pansy, she can't hear you…"

"That's fine. She'll hear from my solicitor."

If her grandfather got word of what was being said over the wireless this early in the morning about his own granddaughter, Rise Early With Almonds would be cut off the air and Catherine would be out of a job!

Catherine continues despite this, as if she really wasn't afraid of what was going to happen to her if she kept going with this story, "That's right. I'm very close with all of them, besides Pansy…I didn't get along with her very much at the wedding and that was the very reason Hermione decided to be extremely rude with me!"

She talks as if it wasn't just a brief interaction with us! Had we not been sent the letter about this woman, I would have completely forgotten her already!

On the wireless there was suddenly a sound effect of piano keys gliding over while a recorded announcement called it ' Storytime with Almonds '.  

Knowing what comes next, if Catherine doesn't stretch the truth, Pansy didn't think that this story was for children to hear, so why the little add-in, as if it was going to be child-friendly?

"—cake is being passed around—carrot, I think is what Ron ordered."

Pretending to be super close by knowing his cake flavor? Classic, Cathy! What's next? Putting emphasis on the fact every couple there was matching, except Hermione and I? 

Pansy started heading toward her wardrobe to change out of her pale green night slip that she had still been wearing in front of Hermione. 

Catherine did indeed go into describing what everyone was wearing, including how she had matched with Ronald Weasley, because of course the hostess did!

Well, guess what, Cathy? I might not have been wearing the same color dress as Hermione, but we were both wearing Penzolli, we both looked hot, and we even came to the venue together, unlike you with Weasley, you jealous cunt!

And sure enough, Catherine followed up with, "Now, Pansy was in this little silver Penzolli dress that her tits couldn't manage to stay inside of— Fake , I'm pretty sure they were."

That was not what Pansy was expecting to come out of Catherine's mouth! 

She almost stumbled over the threshold of her own walk-in wardrobe, and spun back around at the wireless and Hermione, "Excuse me?!"

Hermione was already trying to clear her own airway with coughing after having breathed in too fast with what she had just heard from a morning hostess.

Pansy has to defend herself again now, "My very real assets were secure in that dress!"

"—everyone was talking about it. For the listener's at home, Penzolli doesn't come cheap, it costs a fortune. Don't believe me? I'd tell you to find out how much one costs, but it's all membership only to even get a price! Now that being said, I'm sure that our kitchenware heiress could afford herself a bit more fabric on the dress…"

Pansy is still standing at the entrance of her walk-in closet a little speechless at what was being said about her. She was actually comfortable in that dress and all her media friends complimented her!

She asks Hermione now with concern, "The dress was fine, wasn't it?" 

Hermione hums in agreement, "Yes, it was even more appropriate than the red one..."

??? Even though she had asked the witch, Pansy doesn't know if she should actually take Hermione's opinions about fashion seriously, because the dress Hermione ruined was actually way longer than the silver one in length and the chest was not as exposed as the open back would have been. What was Hermione measuring by appropriateness? 

Isn't Hermione just a guilty person who didn't want to say anything positive about my red dress she ruined so it won't be missed?

In one ear she suddenly hears Catherine go, "Hermione in a red suit—Hoffin." Pansy couldn't let that slide and shouted, even if she couldn't be heard, that the woman was wrong. "It made a difference to Hermione's usual boring work clothes, but we all know she'd have never been able to afford it without the Parkinson Family."

Hermione's work clothes weren't that boring—at least not when she rolls up her dress shirt sleeves and looks very relaxed—a straight woman wouldn't understand!  

Meanwhile, Hermione doesn't have a clue what Catherine is saying anymore when it comes to her suit being a Hoffin or Penzolli, nor what Pansy's thoughts had been in her head. Hermione still didn't even want to know how much her suit even cost. The brilliant witch didn't really care about any of this, all she wanted was to hear in satisfaction of Catherine getting cut off the wireless with an excuse of spelling difficulties with the show production and that be the end of this. 

Unfortunately, Catherine continues playing victim to her listeners about how she was only just chatting with Ginny about how she met Ron before the big bad witch named Hermione Granger showed up and not for anything she said that was completely inappropriate or upsetting to Pansy's boundaries. Hermione now lightly taps her fingers on top of Pansy's vanity with impatience to this woman's mouth. The magic at her fingertips right now could not do anything to Catherine this far away. For a curse to work at such a distance here depended on a lot of prepping and energy beforehand. 

The guest had gone completely quiet so it was assumed by Pansy and Hermione that Mabel had quickly exited the scene without an audible dismissal. They couldn't blame her for it if she did. The woman probably was originally on the show to introduce a new drama she was starring in or a book that she had been writing, but had to instead sit and listen to the hostess bad mouth a 'Golden Trio' member and some model that had a wealthy family.

"...little Miss Parkinson threw her fit…uptight about everything, just like the dress she had on—"

Pansy grumbles when hearing that, "Can she not? The way she's targeting me about the dress, I feel like I'm being sexually harassed by a dirty old man…" She finally walked into the walk-in closet to try and distance the noise of the wireless. 

Pansy spots her dress heels from yesterday off to the side from where Hermione must have dropped them. Pansy readjusts the shoes to line up with her other ones, she even cleans them with a charm so that they sparkle once more under the bright enchanted lighting. Staring at her clean heels Pansy felt more at ease compared to what she was hearing from the wireless. 

Pansy's magical clothes on the hangers eagerly greeted the witch as she passed them. The fabrics wiggling in anticipation to be chosen for an outing or a gala, but the ones out of season knew better than to make a single rattling noise in front of Pansy. She was not going to wear a wool coat in the middle of summer! Her hand pets over the fabric as she made her decisions. Today she wanted to wear something more casual, so after picking out a two piece set of a blue blouse and shorts, Pansy headed to the back of the wardrobe to open the drawers to put on underwear before dressing into the outfit she picked out. 

"So, I tried to get Granger to laugh with me instead, but she kept that scowl of hers—you know, the one that makes her look a bit constipated?" There was now a laugh track, because no one else wanted to join in with the bashing of one of the 'Golden Trio'. 

Mabel, who originally had thought to have fled, can now be heard confronting the hostess on the matter, "She helped save the wizarding world! Show her some respect, Cathy…" 

Turns out Mabel was there all along letting Pansy be insulted, but the guest star was going to defend the beloved Golden Witch Hermione Granger!

Cathy starts growing irritated by Mabel's lack of interest in her story, "Still deserving of criticism and this is my show, I can say whatever I want!"

Can Catherine just get on with it then?

Pansy opens her underwear drawer and goes to find a set to wear while complaining, "I'm starting to think she has zero proof that our marriage is fraudulent and she has nothing actually groundbreaking to say. What is Pelican so afraid of for us to tune in to this? Isn't this Catherine's goal? She loves doing this to celebrities."

She heard movement in the bedroom.

Looking over her shoulder, Pansy finds from the open doorway of the closet that Hermione had moved away from the vanity and was now sitting on the bed. This location was better than the vanity, so Hermione didn't have to raise her voice too much when talking to Pansy inside the walk-in-wardrobe.

In thought to see Hermione sitting there obediently, Pansy wonders if she could somehow get the witch to follow her into the closet. It would be more entertaining for Pansy to tease the wooden stick named Hermione Granger than having her listen to the wireless. 

From the bed Hermione says,"I think that is the premise of her show to get people to listen in," But Pansy tilts her head back, and pretends that she suddenly cannot hear her. 

"Sorry, Hermione, what was that? I can't hear you over the wireless. You should come here." 

Pansy could see how the witch sitting on the bed blinked in confusion at the invitation, because wasn't Pansy changing in there? But, much like last night with the bathtub and falling asleep on her bed, Hermione eventually accepts Pansy's demands by walking cautiously further inside the walk-in-wardrobe. The witch clearly afraid that the vixen was up to her tricks again in being in nothing but her underwear or worse for Hermione's healthy heart, completely naked.

A sigh of relief escapes Hermione when she finds Pansy still in her night slip, but then her brown eyes hover shyly over the colorful and stylish clothes knowing that likely wouldn't last. She starts to inspect some of the fabric while she repeats what she said from before with a furrowed brow. 

"This seems to be the premise of her show. She just goes and goes, never stopping until the poor guest either walks off the show or slaps her…"

In the other room, from the crackling speakers, there was the sound of a chair being scooted away as Mabel finally dismissed herself. Catherine started raising her voice again, "—Hermione almost killed a guy last night, Mabel! She can't just get away with that because she's some savior of the wizarding world! You might not hear about it in the morning post, but they certainly aren't going to shut me up and neither are you! People need to know what their heroes and celebrities are really like outside of the magazines and war stories. Birds of a feather flock together, but they're certainly not the innocent lovebirds they claim to be!"

Pansy with her back now to Hermione starts stripping off the teddy slip. She vanishes her teddy slip and underwear into the hamper in the laundry room downstairs and begins to sift through her underwear, then puts on her bra and panties. Her eyes glance back at Hermione to see if the witch would steal a peek at her. 

Hermione was still inspecting a dress of Pansy's, not daring to look over at the vixen being extremely slow in her dressing on purpose. 

"I even told Hermione Granger straight to her face what I thought about her little scandal and fraudulent wife—they both committed that crime and pardon my Gobbledegook on this next part…the two are not fucking!"

Pansy was supposed to be tuning Catherine out, but hearing such strong foul language on a morning host show causes her to gasp loudly and she quickly slides her underwear up so she could actually turn to face Hermione on the spot now. 

"Can she even say that word on the morning wireless time slot?"

Hermione's eyelashes trembled, but didn't look up at the half-naked witch, "No, she's not supposed to."

If a wireless show was not a late evening show then the host could only use innuendos or metaphors to get by the Network Wireless Host Censorship Policy. That rule was even applied to starring guests, game contestants, singers, and even characters in a wireless drama! Most could get away with an innocent 'arse' or 'tits' for a measly fine of 5 Galleons, but once you start bringing in the f-word, that one little word could kill a show. For a small time wireless network it was an instant slash to one's production budget by the NWHC with the hefty fine one had to pay. Not to mention how all hell would break loose with those very uppity and strict house wives and house husbands who listen to these types of morning shows with their children during breakfast. Catherine's network was about to be bombarded with owls asking for the host to resign. There was no need anymore for Hermione or Pansy to even lift a finger when more mama bears and papa bears heard about this and ate Catherine alive! 

There were 1,000 other wireless shows to choose from in this day and age so The Rise Early With Almonds won't be missed. 

Catherine doesn't seem to care that she just ruined her entire career in just one word, because she wanted to vent instead, "Yeah, I said it. So, what? Is the Parkinson Family going to silence me for telling the truth? Hermione tried it, but she failed in doing so!"

What none of the listeners are aware of was at this exact moment there were owls flying in from the Parkinson Family's team of solicitors, the 'Golden Trio's' team from Gillard's, and every messy letter in ink from the upset house-wife about how her poor little Gerald heard the f-word over his morning beans and toast, despite how he already heard about Catherine mentioning Pansy Parkinson's breasts on the live wireless. 

Both women pause and swivel their heads toward the doorway of the walk-in wardrobe as they witness something incredible. From the wireless there was a sound of scuffling and crackling as the wireless was being intercepted by the production crew, including a few interns trying to reach the hostess and fight for the wand straight out of her hand after a few of their Expelliarmus spells were offshoot in the chaos. 

Pansy's jaw slowly fell at Catherine's sudden breakdown.

The host kept kept going, her voice growing louder from the Sonorus charm as her own emotions grew, "You should have seen Parkinson's face, caught her red-faced and red-handed when I said it!"

There was a verbal warning from another woman that the two didn't recognize, hissing for Catherine to shut it down, and a muffled response from Catherine who barely pulled the wand away from her vocals, talking about how it was HER show and in the contract she was allowed to talk about whatever she wanted. She sounded like a nepo-baby with that entitlement, because who was Catherine Almonds before this? 

Well, there won't be a Catherine Almonds after this. 

"Little Miss Crockery's marriage is a cover story for Hermione Granger's crimes, and if Officer Padma Patil is listening she should look—" The entire production was instantly cut, and only static remained. 

"..." Hermione and Pansy suddenly stand in silence between each other. 

Why did it eerily sound like production just killed off Catherine Almonds?

Soon a prerecorded message of a booming and enthusiastic male announcer's voice almost made Pansy jump straight back into the dresser behind her, "WE ARE HAVING SPELLING DIFFICULTIES AT THIS TIME! PLEASE BE PATIENT! DON'T TAP THAT DIAL!" Followed by generic piano music playing after the chaos Catherine Almonds brought to everyone's morning. 

Even without her wand, Hermione quickly shuts off the classical music playing from the walk-in wardrobe. While Pansy had threatened several times that they would get the show off the wireless, she was thinking it would be a little more subtle and behind the scenes, but this was done in broad daylight for all the world to hear.

Pansy now felt a little uneasy, "You don't think we just exposed ourselves by getting her shut off like that, do you?" Catherine even gave Padma a shout out before she was cut off the air!

Hermione didn't answer her and was looking anywhere else that wasn't a half-naked Pansy. 

Pansy raised an eyebrow at this odd reaction of the other witch. Why look away—I know you don't like me, but you married a model, Hermione, what's not to look at? You were able to even look at me just fine yesterday! 

This time Hermione found her words again, but she kept her eyes directly on a row of trousers that she found more interesting than Pansy. "There is no way Padma in her right mind could think Catherine is a reliable witness or source. That morning show is clearly based on celebrity gossip and exaggerated stories. Padma might be able to use it as a lead, but, at the end of the day, she still needs to find actual evidence to support her case on me and not hearsay that could easily be dismissed by the Wizengamot and waste everyone's time."

The bright witch's brow slowly knits together as she silently thinks in thought to something she had just said though. Pansy can understand the legalities, but it was more than just Padma. It was more than just the Ministry. It was her own cousins and her brothers. It was everyone that crossed Hermione Granger and wanted to finally get back at the Big Bad Witch. It was everyone that didn't want people to forget that Pansy Parkinson had been that little mean girl from their days at Hogwarts. 

Quietly, while letting Hermione think to herself, Pansy takes a light blue collar blouse that has short puff sleeves from its hanger and starts to slip in one arm at a time. 

Hermione goes to take a seat on a blue chair that was placed in Pansy's walk-in-wardrobe, the bright witch now fixated on solving these current concerns that have surfaced between the two. Pansy would occasionally peek over at the warm witch who had her goldenrod hair shine underneath the bright enchanted lights. Hermione didn't slouch, kept both her feet on the plush carpet, and only lifted a hand to her chin while in thought.

Pansy could hear Hermione muttering under her breath with those shiny gears in her head turning with the need of a solution.

"...but you're right, it could still lead us into more trouble with Padma if we don't handle the current matter carefully...to keep others from trying to pry in the first place...we would have to reveal more to the public than what would normally be necessary..."

Hermione didn't originally want the two to share anything with the media, but what happened on Catherine's talk show would lead to further snooping. The case hadn't closed, Hermione's suspension hadn't been lifted, and the warrant was still pending. All Padma needs is a new angle to come at Hermione with, and while their marriage should be an alibi, it could end up being what ruins everything if there was proof of it being fraudulent. 

Padma won't find anything, but the holes can still be there for her to question. 

What if Padma questions close friends and family about the relationship? What if she questions the witches at Moonvine? What if someone eventually exposes something that Hermione was not expecting and could not fix in time? What if Padma's warrant somehow gets authorized and she raids Hermione's flat and other properties and learns that Hermione only slept in a study at the Plum Manor? What if Padma hunts down the muggle who officiated the marriage?

There was a reasonable excuse as to why someone magical would confuse a muggle civil servant for a marriage licence, especially Pansy Parkinson who had no muggle identification or paperwork like how a muggleborn did, and the Ministry would look the other way when it came to such matters when wizards wanted to marry muggles, but Hermione didn't use the Confundus charm. She cast something much worse and even used a memory charm to hide their scheming. That alone could get Hermione into some legal trouble if Padma had an idea on what altered memories visually look like and could undo it. Hermione might be skilled, but others were just as skilled to crack it. 

Someone out there knew about Hermione and Pansy long before Rita Skeeter and Padma Patil. What if they talk and what if they have more to expose? Hermione and Pansy still don't know who that is or if it was only one person. They had to keep holding back the speculations about their marriage. Veronica had been reminding Hermione how important it was for her to protect her own image— even if she had little patience for others, Hermione needed them to like her! She didn't like it, but the brilliant witch was going to have to give in and listen to that advice. 

The witch continues to mumble her own thoughts vocally, "So, there is no other choice...We have to go along with our publicists after all…"

Pansy can see that last night had been an improvement in Hermione readjusting her commitment about their partnership being more than just a marriage, including the potential it could give Hermione if they both played their cards right, but Hermione was still a very stubborn witch. That wasn't going to change. 

She stops dressing, and tries to help make a suggestion for Hermione, "If we do an in-person interview, I've always liked how Lavender Brown handled Harry's interview…it felt natural and she didn't rush him. How about her? Do you think she'll be interested? We could do it live or prerecorded on the wireless."

Hermione looks up, but when she finds that Pansy still hardly had any clothes on, she averted her eyes again, and then answered Pansy, "Well, that was real." Right, because we're not real. "But, since you agree with the idea, I guess I could try to get a hold of Lavender and see if she'll be willing. But, it might be a bit before we hear back from her, and we'd have to keep in mind that she is friends with Padma's sister. So, if we do this, we would have to learn more about each other and not to mention work on our interactions. We're still stiff and awkward around each other."

"..." Learn? Do you really need a class on this, Hermione? Who is even the 'we' that you're talking about? Like I'm not already half-naked and trying to grab your attention right now! It is obviously you who isn't making any moves here!

It was Pansy's turn to start fuming under her breath as she started to button up her blouse, "What do I need to learn…you wooden stick…"

Hermione obviously hears Pansy, and finally jerks her head away from the hanging trousers and glares at the pretty witch who was still half dressed, "Excuse me?"

Pansy stops half-way with the warning tone in Hermione's voice, and slowly lifts her head up from the shirt while trying to blink innocently. Before she ends up getting hexed into oblivion by her own 'darling' wife, Pansy recovers with new words. 

"I was just saying you were right…we need to start a class." That should hold Hermione off by agreeing with the brilliant witch that was always right and never wrong. Pansy then gently tells Hermione on who in their relationship was the issue here "…but what I think we really need to put on our classroom agenda is for you to work on not sounding like you're greeting me like some shopkeeper. I'm your wife, it's not your job to sell me a bottle of butterbeer!"

With Hermione's London accent, 'love' didn't make Pansy feel very special, not when every person on the street would even greet a random bloke with that. Ginny might be fine when her husband did it, but Pansy was not! When Hermione had used 'baby' it had almost worked on Pansy, but after seeing it look like absolute torture coming out of the other witch's mouth she never wanted to hear it again herself. The only ones that had actually struck a chord in Pansy's heart had been that 'darling' and 'dear' Hermione had used last night when she had been frustrated. Even if it was only ever out of irony and sarcasm when used, it still comes off natural for the other witch, making it feel like their own little inside joke that no one else was in on, the same way it felt when the two would divert back to their surnames, there was a complexity of intimacy that Pansy felt when hearing Hermione use Parkinson with her than when it came out of somebody else's mouth. Or even when Hermione added a possessive 'my wife' that made Pansy shiver. That was very much so the Hermione Granger she liked. Just a touch of being domineering; the very embodiment of confidence and spite was a sweetness that Pansy knew was real and for Pansy, that must mean the gentleness and kindness of Hermione that Pansy was so impatient for will end up tasting even sweeter. 

Hermione's entire face suddenly looked a little sunburnt. The brilliant witch didn't like to hear that she was the wooden stick in their relationship, but Pansy was right. Begrudgingly, Catherine had been right...and yes, Hermione hated that! She wasn't a wooden stick! Hermione just didn't want to get caught up in this vixen's charm, only for herself to end up being embarrassed by it. What if she falls for it, and Pansy ends up pushing Hermione back with a glint of disgust in those starry green eyes, 'What in Morgana's name do you think you're doing, Granger?'

Both witches hadn't a clue what the other was actually thinking. 

Avoiding the embarrassment she just felt, Hermione clears her throat and asks a little unsure, "What do you want to suggest then?"

Pansy's fingers still didn't have any time to finish with the buttons on her blouse. She had to pause once again, leaving her bra revealed to Hermione, "Like, what do I want you to call me?"

If it was forced out of Hermione, she didn't want to hear it!

Hermione straightens her spine on the blue chair, trying to show Pansy that she was very good with criticism even though the pretty witch already knew that the other actually wasn't, "It could be of any suggestion. You're the one that is better at this than me…so, I'll follow your lead."

That was a big deal for Hermione. She didn't list anything that she wouldn't do, but Pansy had to be very careful not to be hexed by her wife for suggesting the idea she currently had when staring over at her on the chair. 

"How about…" Pansy walks over and stands in front of the sitting Hermione, causing the bright witch to have to stare up at Pansy instead.

Glancing down at Hermione distracts Pansy for a moment, the scene reminds her just a bit of the dream she had earlier. It felt cruel that Pansy can't just fall into Hermione's lap right now when staring over this vibrant and warm woman, wrap her arms around Hermione and whisper enticing words into her ear, lips and breath pressed and tickling the cartilage. Pansy has to keep her hands from wanting to trace along Hermione's face with a hopeful wish of what this woman was supposed to mean to her. Starry green eyes hover over chapped lips that would be better if she kissed them, or her most important goal when it came to wanting Hermione Granger: Stare into those brown eyes to find her own reflection within them; to see it, to see her, to see herself…

"Millie left it to Hermione." Her words yesterday evening with Blaise rings in her ears now. Her dream had followed in telling Pansy she wasn't a fool in believing it. Hermione had the answer in her, somewhere...somehow...and she desperately wanted this all-knowing-witch to tell her. 

Hermione insists for Pansy to finish her sentence, "...we could…?"

For Pansy, she knew the only words that want to leave her lips were of wishful thinking, but, there was something now within her sights and she selfishly couldn't let it disappear, so she finally asked, "How about we kiss?"

A minty breath escapes Hermione after she registered the words of this half-naked vixen in front of her, "Kissing?" Brown eyes trail down the bridge of Pansy's nose, and straight toward the cupid's bow of Pansy's soft pink lips. 

Pansy has no idea what the other is thinking, but if she wasn't a little bit teasing to the dazed witch now, was she Pansy Parkinson?

"Yes, unless you thought I would say something more exciting~"

"I didn't." Hermione is nervously quick to cut off any fantasy Pansy might have in that head of her's. Eyes shift back up to make contact with Pansy's starry green to show she hadn't been captured by any spell of the pretty witch's words.  "I just have a question."

"I have an answer." Pansy smiles, not taking the quick rejection of her teasing remark as anything serious between them. 

"Are we going to actually kiss in public or is this stage kissing—I just need to know what you mean in advance."

What else would I mean?

"We're wanting this to look natural from all criticism. So it's real kissing, Granger. Obviously. In fact," Pansy tried to get this to work in her own favor now, though she was a little anxious about the witch going straight for a wand with what she wanted to add. Keep an eye on those golden curls! "I think to help make us become more comfortable with each other, our first lesson, is for us to also kiss in private. What do you say to that?"

There were no sparks to Hermione's curls. Instead her throat rolls nervously and she removes her stare from Pansy again, looking at the clothes or the shoes, the carpet at her feet, to the statement jewelry that sparkled and shined underneath the enchanted lights— clearly anywhere but at Pansy herself while she thinks it over. 

Finally, easing Pansy's anxious heart, Hermione shows her Gryffindor courage and looks back up into Pansy's starry green, "We could do that."

Pansy's heart flutters with excitement instead now, "Great!"

Not giving Hermione much of a warning, besides leaning forward into those almost startled brown eyes, Pansy lightly presses her lips against Hermione's lips, and brown eyes closed along with her own green. Slightly chapped, but that only felt familiar for Pansy, leaving a warmth in her heart for such things she had only ever taken for granted. Her own lips had only landed softly like that of a butterfly before the need to flutter away quickly again as she fought off the hungry greed of wanting to crash back into those lips eagerly like waves instead, and drown Hermione with herself. Hermione soon slowly opened her eyes again once Pansy pulled away, her hands only hovering out of reflex to hold the other woman, but it all ended so soon there was nothing for Hermione to catch but that of air.  

The brilliant witch seems to lose a bit of her intelligence, as she blinks and tries to process everything in front of her. 

In a good mood by this scene, Pansy winks down at Hermione, "Now, Granger, be sure to do your homework and find a chance to kiss me back later or you'll end up failing my class…"

Hermione seems to become sun burnt all over again with such words, but is able to break away from the spell that Pansy had cast with her playful response and hums a response that she'll keep in mind. 

Pansy still asks while in a good mood, "How about I make breakfast for us?"

Brown eyes can't help but lower to the bare thighs and the undone blouse of Pansy, "Okay, but can you not make it a habit to walk around in only your underwear?"

Glancing down and finding she really hadn't put anything on yet with all distractions, Pansy huffs in annoyance then that Hermione would say such a thing to her, "You are an absolute piece of wood, Granger!" 

But, the pink still dusts across Pansy's shoulders and cheeks as she spins around to snatch at the shorts she was going to wear and leaves the walk-in-wardrobe quickly away before Hermione Granger could indeed hex her over saying that or even hear the muttering response of Hermione telling her, "That was not me being a piece of wood, Parkinson..."

There were several witches that would have loved to see me with nothing on!

Chapter Text

Hermione came downstairs once she had fully dressed, still with a smile plastered on her face and making a soft hum to a tune that got stuck in her head since listening to the live goblin band yesterday. Over and over again, she thought of the kiss that had been planted on her lips that early morning by Pansy Parkinson. Her heart had been helpless to the excited emotions that coursed through the twenty-seven year old, it was only a kiss and she had plenty before, so why did she act like this? 

Reminding herself not to fall for the vixen's charm, but was still unable to ruin her own good mood from it. There was only the occasional anxious thought that would break through and join the mix of happiness: So, when am I supposed to kiss Pansy back?

Along the wall as she went down to the ground floor were portraits discussing something quietly among themselves. It was a bunch of unintelligible chatter in her own ears, but she did catch a few English words. One colorful acrylic painting from Pansy's mother's side of the family teased at the sight of Hermione Granger's smile, "Oh, the Madam has finally woken from her slumber—do tell as to what dreams she may have had for such a smile!"

Another gentleman with mutton sleeves and a puffy hat, piped up with only a bubbling cauldron between them,"Are we sure this is the Madam Granger we know— surely not? "

Her smile drops then.

Is it really new of me to smile?

Hermione clears her throat at the nosy portraits who might have thought she couldn't hear them. She wished these ancestors would be a bit more quiet like the more simple paintings. The chatter died upon hearing Hermione interrupting them, and several of the enchanted acrylic paintings froze in place out of fear of their own canvas being torn through by the madam of the manor. 

Ridiculous…

Hermione knows she had a resting scowl, but she has been seen smiling before on occasion, hasn't she? Even if it wasn't like from childhood with innocence and blissfulness, she knew how to smile!

Choosing to ignore the ancestors instead of picking a fight with an enchanted canvas, Hermione continued on down the stairs. She was wearing a pair of keds and a sunny yellow-t shirt neatly tucked into high waist jeans that morning. Her dark golden waves and curls were brushed back by her left hand, and they crashed back behind her shoulders. 

With her arms exposed from short sleeves, Hermione begins to play with the gold bracelet on her wrist; her fingers sliding over the thin chain. A spark of magic from her fingertips hit the hidden mechanism, and suddenly a glamor charm was activated to hide her ugly scar that traveled up the underside of Hermione's arm.

Hermione knew that looking upon the ugly word made others barely stomach it. Last night, Hermione didn't think about her scar being seen by Pansy when she had rolled up her dress shirt, but thankfully the pretty witch never brought it up or made eye contact with it.. 

Self-consciously her hand ran up the forearm where Hermione could still feel the parts that never healed properly; slightly raised bumps where the cursed dagger had dragged and snagged into the skin when carving some of the letters in. 

Hermione herself barely stomachs it, but it was a part of her—something that couldn't define Hermione Granger, yet still branded her and reminded her from morning to night of that day in Malfoy Manor.

She had thought about covering it up with a tattoo once, but when the magic ink was supposed to take to the skin, the scar began to bleed irritably and erupted with severe pain as the curse rejected the ink; spilling it all out with the blood. Hermione was then stuck without any solution for it, a scar that only told a nightmare, and not really a story of defiance and loyalty that Hermione would ever want to tell her own children. 

Hermione let both arms fall back to her sides. Heading straight into the kitchen and swinging the door open, she smells the scent of fried dough, plum jam, and sizzling sausage. All prepared and made by Pansy Parkinson. 

A month ago, Hermione had been shocked to find that the pampered heiress in front of her even knew how to cook, thinking that Pansy only ever had meals cooked and prepared for her by house elves, and while that was partly true, it was apparently important in the Parkinson family to learn how to cook for oneself as well and Pansy seemed to enjoy it. 

The family members were raised on the structure of Borimir's teachings of wanting his family to know what it was like for himself growing up, including the hard work of his own parents who raised him in poverty and gave him the foundation to overcome it all. It might just be a fried egg or to stir-fry some veggies, but even Pansy's uncles and cousins knew how to get by without the need of house elves. 

Hermione agreed with such a sentiment, except personally , she hated cooking…She mostly hated cooking for others that is!

Her time camping during the war with very little rations and not knowing enough caused the boys to complain behind Hermione's back that her day to cook was the worst to look forward to, and for someone like Hermione who disliked hearing such criticism about herself, it left a shadow cast over her heart all this time.

While Harry's early knowledge of cooking mostly only came from his Aunt Petunia using him as free labor and breathing down his neck to not burn the bacon at age seven he did happen to be the better cook out of the Gryffindor trio, and even if Ron didn't know many elaborate recipes and kept falsely claiming about how Mrs. Weasley could conjure food right out of thin air despite Gamp's Law stating otherwise, the wizard did grow up overhearing his mum's cooking spells to mix dishes together. Hermione on the other hand was left clueless compared to the boys, because while her parents could cook, it mostly consisted of popping a family size M&S ready-made meal into the oven to save time. 

No matter how hard Hermione tried to improve, cooking was not at all like brewing a potion…Hermione could follow all the instructions of a recipe by textbook, but her results of cooking were still not anything to get excited about, and nobody did. It was always as if something was missing among the ingredients and prep—and calling that something ' love' had to be an absolute myth, because Hermione tried that too, until the corners of her raised mouth ached and the results tasted very empty even after that. So, Hermione would only contribute to her friends' dinners by bringing a bottle of mead or bought desserts and she only cooked for herself out of necessity. 

The large kitchen of the manor had a mauve scheme with the cabinets and cupboards, matching white marble flooring and counters with gold faucets and accents. The only pop of green came from the plants that hang from the ceiling or sitting on the windowsill that was just above the double sink. The breakfast table was circular, built from the purple heart wood that could be found in South America. Hermione felt a little guilty at times while dining on such a tree, but the guilt becomes a little less when admiring the gorgeous pigment and craftsmanship—it was truly a work of art; giving the wood a second 'life'. Pansy Parkinson had expensive tastes, but at least it was still beautiful. 

Hermione noticed Pansy placing a large plate of stacked mekitsi in the middle of the breakfast table, the hovering and floating dishware followed and settled around the table. 

Mekitsi was bulgarian deep fried bread made using yogurt instead of milk and had the texture of a donut—soft on the inside, and a little crisp on the outside. Hermione only knew what this Bulgarian deep fried bread had been called from when Hogwarts boarded Durmstrang students during the Triwizard Tournament her fourth year. Viktor had introduced it to her when it had been set out during breakfast alongside banitsa, which was another breakfast style bread that was more flaky and Viktor would always drink the fried bread with his yogurt beverage. 

Yes, again with the yogurt. Hermione had learned from Viktor that Bulgarians love their yogurt, practically everything is made with it, or they'll go adding it in themselves. Food too spicy? Yogurt! Wanting a dish to have more volume? Add some yogurt—it'll go a long way! Want a drink? Refreshing yogurt! Rice? Mix some yogurt in that! Yogurt? Bulgarian Yogurt!  

The Durmstrang Champion would complain though that he preferred his banitsa with boza and was disappointed that the school didn't serve the drink among the English and European dishes. From what Hermione had gathered about the consistency of the thick and fermented drink, boza sounded pretty similar to eggnog, but she had yet to try it for herself. 

Since moving to Plum Manor there were a few Bulgarian dishes that her wife knew, and Pansy had made mekitsi a few times, always adding sprinkled powdered sugar to it. The first time , the kitchenware heiress had paused before adding any to Hermione's own mekitsa (singular) and asked if Hermione preferred savory instead of sweet, as Pansy could go grab the soft cheese for her to spread instead. 

Deprived of such breakfast when she was young, Hermione told Pansy that she had a secret sweet-tooth for breakfast pastries, so Pansy added the powdered sugar on the mekitsi ever since for both of them, because Pansy happened to like sweetness over savory as well. 

Hermione noticed that her steaming mug of coffee was also added to the table, and a light smile appeared on her face at the thoughtfulness of not having to brew it herself. 

Even though Pansy had Bulgarian ancestry from her grandfather's maternal side, the pretty witch never had boza on the table alongside the fried dough for Hermione to try. When having asked the pretty witch about the drink, it had Pansy looking at Hermione with brand new, yet terrified eyes, as if she had just asked Pansy if she could chug it or something— "No? Why would you do that to yourself, Granger? What—what about a yogurt drink—some ayran? Or kefir? I could get that for you instead? Have you heard of that?" 

Pansy would let Hermione try any drink she wanted, magical or muggle , but boza was not entering her kitchen! Just the smell of it would apparently make her retch and vomit. While Hermione had still been curious about the drink from listening to Viktor's homesickness when she was fifteen, Pansy had her own childhood trauma about boza still at age twenty-seven to not allow Hermione to ever find out for herself if she would like it or not.

Hermione announces her presence. "Anything you need me to do—has Gracie been fed?" 

The pretty witch lifts her head to greet Hermione, "There you are! I already fed Gracie, but can you get the bangers and fried egg to place on the table instead, 'Mione?"

She appeared youthful and bright in her light blue set of summer clothes that she was wearing. Pansy's inky black hair was half pulled back with a gold clip and framing her pretty face. The witch wore light make-up that morning, carrying a healthy glow with her blush and sparkly eyeshadow that was light pink. The matching lipstick that Hermione focused on when the pretty witch spoke to her was suddenly the most eye catching and brain numbing thing to look at.

Usually it was Pansy's starry green that was enchanting, but the sensation of soft lips now added to the charm that could capture the brilliant witch.

Hermione rubbed her own lips together absent-mindedly then, and suddenly realized how chapped they felt. Did she share a kiss with Pansy with chapped lips? Feeling embarrassed about it, Hermione made a note to herself to apply lip balm later. She broke eye contact with Pansy's lips.

Not for the chance to kiss again, but for appearances sake…

Having heard her nickname affectionately being used by Pansy, Hermione looked around, but she didn't find anyone else accompanying them for breakfast. It was just the two of them. It seems Pansy understood their current assignment better than her. Hermione felt annoyed with herself then by not thinking of doing the same. Using a nickname seemed to be a little trick of Pansy's so as not to overdo the sweethearts and loves that couldn't even leave Hermione's own mouth without losing all joy and affection.

Should Hermione try doing the same? Call her wife… Pans instead? Hermione has heard it used among Draco's Little Gang. Or, something different that should belong just between them if they had been a real couple? Pan. Panda. Pans. Pansy. The witch's name was already short to begin with! Why even overdo it?  But, don't loving couples normally have pet names?

Hermione internally sighed at her own awkwardness at over complicating things as usual.

"Alright…" Hermione glanced over toward the sausages and two fried egg plates that were kept warm on the counter. 

Using her own wandless magic, the plates followed over at the command of her finger and landed onto the table with the mekitsi.

Her brain continues trying out her options to use on Pansy in her head, but forcing anything out now only felt insincere. There was still needing to figure out when the best time was to kiss the other witch too— a peck on the lips should suffice, nothing to be carried away with!

The two eventually settle down at the table together, and Hermione thanked Pansy for the breakfast in front of her. She takes a sip of her coffee first to hot-wire her brain into thinking more clearly instead of about kisses and pet names, but it did little to help Hermione to stop thinking about the pretty witch in front of her. 

No milk, no cream, and only one sugar cube that made Hermione feel a little rebellious. That was how Hermione liked her coffee, unless she was in a rush then it was straight black. Pansy was observant. She knows my coffee, but I don't know anything about how she would take her own. Does Pansy even drink coffee? 

"You're welcome…" Pansy unfolds a napkin and places it on her thigh, and then begins to open the plum jam jar. 

Hermione only hums as she secretly looks over the mug to quietly scan over the table for what Pansy had chosen to drink this morning. She found it to be a glass of pumpkin juice. 

With the little knowledge I have on Pansy's tastes in beverages…pumpkin juice seems rather boring for her...right? 

Hermione frowned at her own lack of knowledge on Pansy's tastes in drinks while still eyeing the glass of pumpkin juice. It wasn't flashy. It was just… a cold glass of squeezed pumpkin that was the color of yellow-orange. 

She had only seen Pansy drink outrageously expensive drinks that Hermione doubted she would ever personally drink herself if she learned the price, because while most of the time it was cocktails that were known to be pretty and sparkly, it could just as easily be a poorly mixed drink by some new bartender at Moonvine that wasn't worth the expense.

The pretty vixen would always be happy to receive them regardless of how it tasted though. Collecting the drinks like they were treasured gems and jewels— materialistically witnessing how wanted she was.

Sitting the coffee mug back down on the purple wood, Hermione distracts her thoughts by piling food onto her own plate now.

Stop thinking about pet names. Stop thinking about kissing. Stop thinking about Pansy's tastes. Stop thinking about Pansy Parkinson.  

The porcelain plates had a simple pink peony silhouette in the center; the petals outlined by the negative space of white porcelain. The peony flower soon gets covered up by the powdered mekitsi, sausage and fried egg.  

After Pansy puts some jam on her plate, she hands the jar over to Hermione and starts talking about plums, "Take as much jam as you can…let's finish it up so come this July we can have a new fresh batch—you can help harvest when we do, that is if you want. I was just thinking about it, because Daphne's birthday is in July, and I promised last fall to make a fresh plum dessert for her. Harry's is in July, too…" Harry's birthday in the British Isles was celebrated by most everyone since the fall of Voldemort in 1981 and of defeating him once again in 1998, so of course Pansy would know it, "If you want," the witch hesitates for a second before going a head and asking Hermione, "We could make one for him—a chocolate plum pie or something else? What do you think? For appearance's sake, it could be our gift together."

In the cellar there were several different types of plum preserves, including wine that was still mostly aging. Pansy was likely desperate to get rid of what couldn't be kept in the cellar before the next harvest arrived and she was overrun with more. Plum had been implemented into every meal since they returned from their Portugal trip, and Hermione had a feeling that Pansy would start stuffing plums into her own arms, and telling her to dump them onto the Potters and Weasleys to get rid of the fruit for her. 

July will be in a few short weeks. Not only Harry's twenty-seventh birthday, but Albus was going to turn one on the 22nd of July. Hermione hadn't even thought of any birthday presents yet. 

Hermione knows Pansy is just mentioning it now so as to not feel as if they were dining along with a bunch of crickets. She nods to this while using her own knife to scrape a little of the jam over her mekitsa.

"We can do that… I think Harry will be very happy to receive a homemade pie. That reminds me, I have to think of what to get Albus as well though—he'll be turning one this year."

"What did you get for James? Just buy Albus the same thing. Back in May, I sent Scorpius a custom silver spoon. A Parkinson , of course."  

Scorpius had been the name of Draco's firstborn child, because of course that had to be the name the Malfoys picked! Scorpions and Dragons. Hermione's future children weren't going to be named such things— if she ever had children, but this isn't what her brain should get caught on. 

Hermione arched an eyebrow and looked up from her plate after hearing the spoon idea. She has heard of the custom of buying silver spoons among even the muggle upper class for a child's first gift and while it sounded like a reasonable gesture coming from a kitchenware princess, it still sounded just a bit— 

"Pretentious. I just bought Jamie some toys for around his age. It was stacking cups and large blocks."

Feeling the insult of being called 'pretentious' by Hermione, Pansy frowns back, "Gifting educational toys really sounds like you... If it works, just do the same as before then," A soft hmph can be heard, too, "Just know that you won't end up being the favorite aunt with those ideas!"

Hermione sounded exasperated with the pampered heiress being unreasonable again, "You bought a spoon!" 

A one year old can play with blocks and stacking cups without realizing it's building motor skills, but an unusable spoon collecting dust in an attic after a few years won't be missed at all!

Pansy had to argue, "You bought a one year old a bunch of cups! Where are you any different?!"

The cups were for stacking!

The pretty witch has another comment by the sight of Hermione rolling her eyes at her, "Just for calling me pretentious, Granger, our imaginary child will have an entire kitchen set by the age of twelve!"

Hermione adds back, with the twitch at the corner of her lips at such a spiteful comment that lacked any teeth or claws, "Maybe just buy a toddler's kitchen play set…to cover that all in one go to spite me then…"

Pansy's starry eyes brighten, "Wait, that sounds adorable! Like a mini kitchen play set for kids—is this a muggle thing?"

Slightly taken back by the question, "You don't have that in the wizarding world?" Hermione tries her best to explain to the witch, " They've been around forever —late 1800s. Used to be dangerous, like kids could use a mini kerosene stove, but now it's all just plastic and play pretend. A kitchen sized for a child, comes with fake kitchen utensils and fake food, and children pretend to be chefs or play house with it." 

"We don't have that…" Pansy lists other things that could be found in a wizarding toy store instead. "We have a Baby's First Broom, Little Unicorns, board games—like Snitch Snatcher, or card games like Exploding Snap, Imaginary Bear Friends—well, those aren't as popular anymore, mostly because the parents hated them. Once you reach a certain age you can't see them anymore, so it was hard for parents to find them in the store around Christmas time. I suppose there are dollhouses with interactive dolls or action figures, or even mini tea sets for pretend tea parties—my family actually has a line of those that we sell for children, but I have never heard of an interactive kitchen !"

And, suddenly, just like that, Hermione accidentally helped the Parkinson Family with magical kitchen toys for wizarding kids along with her wife. Who said she didn't contribute to this family? If the play set becomes popular among wizarding children, it would be worth the money spent on it. There was also the idea that this toy could potentially lead to future clients and customers that fell in love with the little Parkinson kitchen play set from their childhoods. Hermione isn't sure how she actually feels about contributing to such capitalism, but a toy could still be considered educational and useful to a child's productivity and growth. 

The two began to enjoy their breakfast that morning with a conversation about the toy. Pansy began to inquire further how this magical kitchen was supposed to work for children and if it would be on par with the muggle one. Her questions were more on the imaginative scale of a witch than a muggle—like if the pretend 'baking' and 'cooking' could still have child-friendly spells, like for the sink and fridge, maybe even the stove— perhaps create special effects. Oh, or even making the 'food' have a fragrance when cooking!

Overrun with these questions and ideas Hermione could only try to remember and explain what her own play kitchen had been like. It had been an expensive Christmas gift from her late grandma who bought it from a toy store from the states. It was top of the line—it lit up and made noise. It even had a microwave oven, which Pansy obviously had no understanding of , but the play set wasn't ever that interactive or had such features that Pansy was imagining. If it were that impressive, Hermione might have played with it more often as a child.  

Was the play set still even in the attic or did my parents send it off to a baby cousin who would have appreciated it more? I could just take Pansy to a muggle toy store so she has a better understanding of this toy and what it all comes with and doesn't have?

Hermione can feel the contagious energy from her 'darling' wife who leans across the table and ignoring her own breakfast in favor of discussing this all with Hermione. 

She could only try to hide her own smile by looking back down at her plate, "I guess it's all possible, though I'm not sure about how safe…Muggle children just pretend there are these elements like fire and water."

She begins to cut into her sausage while thinking about the number of spells that would have to be used for such a magical toy kitchen that Pansy was imagining for wizarding children. 

Hermione pauses her knife and looks up from the plate again, "You could have a transfiguration spell on the fake food that cycles through different stages when preparing and cooking. For example, turning 'dough' into 'biscuits' while in the oven, you could even include the scent of warm biscuits baking. And, when playtime is over then it'll all turn back to the original things. But…"

Her cautious nature had to anxiously remind the witch across from her, "You would of course have to warn parents that children cannot actually eat any of this…" She imagines that magical children would have a different mindset when it comes to playing with fake, but realistic looking food compared to the plastic that Hermione grew up with, "...and these pieces have to be large enough not to be considered a choking hazard. Now that I think of it, you might have to raise the age range too…"

Pansy considers the brilliant witch's cautious warning, "Maybe some adjustments would be needed and ideas scrapped, but it will especially be in need of some testing with the mixture of spells involved. With the right spellmaker these ideas are all possible and can all be done on an assembly line though, right?" 

Hermione quietly nods along when biting into the sausage she had just cut into pieces. It would all be easy with a transfiguration expert behind the design that Pansy was interested in creating for the kitchenware company. After chewing and swallowing, Hermione vocally reassures Pansy even if these ideas were beyond what a muggle's playset involved. 

The pretty witch then wants to go back over what Hermione mentioned about her own kitchen play set as a child, "But, what about the sound effects you talked about on the muggle one? Is it used only for this…" Pansy's face scrunched up as if she was trying to process a muggle invention that wouldn't be able to work for her own magical play kitchen, "...microwave?"

"Yeah, mostly, but, you could make sounds for pretty much anything you think needs noise and lights that children would like. This is only for the really expensive ones though. The basic ones don't normally have batteries, those are made to be economically cheap for families that can't afford all the features."

During the discussion while the two ate, Hermione saved her 'dessert' for last, but just as she was about to start tearing a bit into the bread, Hermione suddenly felt a tingling sensation crawl across her own skin. 

Both witches looked up from their breakfast in unison then and the conversation that they were having about what batteries even were had died. 

Someone was here. 

Pansy speaks first, "Were you expecting someone?"

"No." Hermione shakes her head. 

And with the pretty witch's confused reaction, Pansy certainly wasn't either. 

There were very few that were allowed to apparate through the wards and visit the property uninvited. Friends and family, but more unfortunate was the ministry. After the morning show that the two had tuned into, it could have been anyone, but Hermione was already expecting it to be Padma Patil. 

Hermione stands up with that possibility, "I'll go check."

Pansy watches Hermione's back warily as she disappears behind the swinging kitchen door. Hermione heads straight toward the front door as the peony knocker starts to echo and bang all through the house. Already expecting who it might be, Hermione opens the door without much caution besides a few spells at the top of her head to cast just in case it was something she wasn't expecting.

Two women stand side by side on the welcome mat. A backdrop of a light drizzle in the air with the skies being gloomy and gray. 

It really was Officer Padma Patil and the other witch Hermione assumed was just another corruption officer that had joined Padma that morning. Padma was wearing a black leather jacket instead of her own ministry robes. The light rain hit the shoulders and even sprinkled lightly onto the dark hair that had been pulled up into a tight bun. The air was humid and made Hermione's own  hair frizz a little when exposed to it.  Padma noticeably had gold eyeshadow and cat eyeliner to her makeup that morning. 

The witch was obviously pretty as she was identical to her own sister, Parvati. Housed in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor, but the only real difference between sisters in appearance was the way Padma's smile didn't raise as high as Hermione's old housemate did—it would raise up into a smirk as if she knew something you didn't, and Padma had a more relaxed approach than the giggling and cheerfulness that her twin sister often had. Both Hermione and Padma were of the same height today, only because the leather boots Padma was wearing had a bit of a heel to them while Hermione had been wearing flat keds. Her experience of standing next to Parvati back at Hogwarts made it easy to remember that Padma was actually on the shorter side much like her sister. 

While the leather might have been Padma's overall style, the boots were just compensating Padma's height in Hermione's eyes. 

The woman beside Padma that Hermione assumed was an extra corruption officer had been middle-aged, maybe a little older than that, but Hermione didn't personally recognize her. The smiling woman looked the most professional out of the two, wearing her MLE ministry robes that were only a shade off to the charcoal uniform that Aurors wore. The only actual color to her wardrobe was the metallic green seahorse shaped clips that pulled back her blonde hair, leaving her unpierced ears sticking out. The officer was professional, neat and clean, and someone who seemed to go by the books. If it sounded familiar, that was because Hermione would also dress like that had she been heading off to work.

Officer Patil tilts her head slightly when greeting Hermione, "Madam Granger." She had her usual smile, but there was no friendliness in the tone. 

Staring at the smile, Hermione could only remember the shrugging words of the other witch from before, "Just doing my job, Hermione, you know how it goes!" But, all of Padma's unethical actions so far revealed it was more than just doing a job. The words and smile were clearly all just disingenuous and Hermione no longer had any good feelings about the other witch. 

Come to be nosy once again…don't you have better things to do than tune in to some morning host's opinion on the wireless? She could only imagine Padma this morning had her ear close to the wireless and tapping the dial to hear just a simple ' Granger ' out of the garbled noises to focus in on. 

As proper protocol, both officers begin to reveal their Ministry of Magic badges to Hermione.

Padma pulled her badge out of the pocket of her leather jacket while the other witch already had her badge pinned to her robes for easy access. The card badges were no bigger than the palm of one's hand and made from a special kind of metal; shiny and reflected like a mirror with glowing white font and numbers for readability. There was the MLE emblem on the officer's badges along with the MoM emblem and it had an employee identification number. 

There was a high suspicion after the war of individuals impersonating ministry employees in bad faith and devious acts, so it was to be a bit like a muggle officer's badge for identity purposes when ministry employees and law enforcers had to interact with the public and press for proof of profession. Hermione also carried one around as well when inspecting living situations for the elves, but her badge only had the standard design with the MoM emblem that was issued to regular ministry employees and officials. 

There were several security charms in place that the Department of Mysteries set up for the ministry IDs unable to be magically copied or stolen. And, it couldn't easily be replicated from scratch either— supposedly , because Harry over a year ago had worryingly told Hermione and Ron that some fake prototypes had been popping up on the dark market, but according to the Unspeakables, these fake badges were still extremely flawed compared to the real design, and Harry had been told it was not anything to worry about yet. 

Hermione had found the 'not to worry yet' completely baffling to a serious security risk waiting to happen. The Unspeakables had refused several times to reveal or leak the trick to how these badges were considered secure in order to discourage any criminals from making an 'official' ministry badge. Which at the time was understandable, it was assumed impossible to copy, steal or replicate to begin with from the protective spells in place, much how the bank of Gringotts secured the wizarding currency with a goblin's own magic, but the Department of Mysteries suddenly created itself a dilemma as fakes were now being distributed and seen out in the wild and the public now can't tell the difference for themselves. 

Not even Hermione knew the secret—she had ideas, but wasn't certain of it. Would the badges have a color change reaction to a certain spell that only Unspeakables knew? But, if that was the secret, it would eventually be cracked by other intelligent forces…wouldn't it?

With no knowledge on how to figure it out herself, Hermione could only give the officers a courtesy nod after slowly glancing over their employee IDs. 

She already knew Padma personally, unless the witch turned out to be polyjuice-ed, but Hermione wanted to avoid such a headache to deal with. As there were no current spells to counteract the potion, Hermione couldn't just take a Fraudma Patil to Gringotts for a cart ride through the Thief's Downfall to reveal the impostor. Hermione could only take it all at face value for now and find out what the visit was for before slamming the door in Padma's face. 

At least there was no warrant coming out from Padma's pockets…

"Officers…" Hermione finally greets them as Padma hides her badge again. She looks over at Padma's partner who still wears a pleasant smile in front of Hermione, "Is there a reason why you're on my doorstep this early morning?"

Last time it was even earlier than this and she was arrested!

"Well," Padma straightens her neck up, "We came by for some questions—" She turns to her partner when she speaks then to clarify on who 'we' was, "This is Corruption Officer Reeds. She's my senior, and will be helping me on the case for now. I just wanted to come by so that she can be filled in on things…" Padma then mumbles, her eyes casting back over Hermione, "Show her how difficult you are to deal with to boot…"

In the past there were other corrupt ministry officials who just fled the country and sent your office on a cat and mouse chase. So, how exactly am I difficult to deal with? Hermione's own brain is unnecessarily quick to answer that thought, Because you're boldly standing about in broad daylight after deliberately committing and covering up your crimes and pretending to be innocent…Right, yeah, I didn't forget that, brain. Thank-you!

The older witch politely greets Hermione and doesn't reprimand her junior for such a comment, "Morning, Madam Granger."

Hermione still didn't plan to budge, "We—my wife and I, are having breakfast and weren't expecting company this morning. So, maybe next time?"

Or, maybe never. That could work for my schedule!

Padma doesn't care about Hermione's attempt at blowing them off with such an excuse, "I think it would be wise to just let us have a little chat today," She squints over the dreary weather behind herself, "It would even be polite if you would let us out of the rain, Madam Granger."

"We're all used to the rain, aren't we? Anyways, it should clear up soon…"

What kind of fool would she be to invite them inside? Hermione doesn't care about what department these women worked under she didn't want these two inside and snooping about!

From behind Hermione, Pansy could be heard calling from the hallway, "'Mione, who is at the door?" 

Padma  shifts her attention from the rain and peers around Hermione to see the pretty figure that was walking over. Even though it wasn't easy to see Pansy as Hermione side-steps to block the view of her wife, including making very little space between herself and the door, Padma's eyes, the color of dark grapes, were suddenly bright. 

There was a sudden crisis in Hermione's heart when seeing Padma's interest pique.How could she not notice it? Those eyes reminded Hermione far too much of those witches at Moonvine— all Padma needed was a tail wagging… Hermione doesn't know if there was any history between Padma and Pansy, but this is supposed to be the Corruption Officer that was to be investigating her, can she stop coveting for her own wife?

Honestly, this is why Pansy can't just stroll about comfortably in her underwear around the house…we get stray dogs like this coming to the door! 

Was this all just her jealousy speaking? Perhaps it was, but Hermione preferred to think it was just her dislike for the current situation. 

Hermione grips the red door tightly and answers back to the witch behind her, "It's just the MLE's Corruption Office coming by with questions…I told them we were having breakfast though." 

She then silently glares at Padma to take the hint to get lost. 

Padma wasn't bothered by the scowl, she insead laughed lightly, "What happened to the girl who would force her friends to go over exam questions at breakfast? It's pretty much the same thing, isn't it?" Hermione wants to roll her eyes, because it certainly wasn't the same. None of them were school girls anymore! Padma then directs her questions to the pretty witch that makes Hermione move over some, "This shouldn't be a problem, right, Pansy?"

There was that stuffy feeling again in Hermione's chest when Padma spoke to Pansy directly. Hermione corrects the way that her own wife should be addressed, as if that would ease the discomfort that she was feeling.

"It's Mrs. Granger to you…"

If she had to play as Madam Granger and Padma as Officer Patil, then obviously Pansy should be addressed with the same courtesy! My wife isn't going to be chummy with you either!

"I'm aware." There was no flinch of any emotion that crossed Padma's face, but Hermione still doubted the witch's awareness. 

The two had a staring contest, neither of the witches breaking away. Pansy placed her hand on Hermione's arm to quietly ease the hostility that was clearly growing between the two. 

Pansy questions the sudden visit, "Didn't you already ask my wife enough questions? If you have anything, you can go to our solicitors instead. They have all the information you might inquire about."

Officer Reeds jumps in at this moment, "It's just a few questions—nothing to be alarmed by."

"And, who are you supposed to be in all of this?" Pansy was suspicious of the unfamiliar officer. 

"I'm Officer Reeds…I'll be joining alongside my junior officer for today, Mrs. Granger." 

Padma nudged her senior officer with her elbow swinging into her side while her hands were still in the pocket of her leather jacket, it was a very subtle action, but awkward enough that the fraudulent couple still took notice of it. 

"..."

Reeds then quickly reveals her badge to Pansy to take a glance at, but unlike Hermione who had only done it out of courtesy, Pansy actually scrutinized the sequence of numbers on the woman's ID. Her hand squeezes Hermione's arm tightly, as if wanting to tell her something, but unable to say anything in front of the other two at the moment. 

There was an occasional twitch to the cheek as if the witch couldn't maintain her smile for long under Pansy's scrutiny. 

The badge was then pulled back out of view, and Pansy raised an eyebrow, "You're telling me that you work for the Corruption Office?"

The woman's eyes dodged the pretty witch, "Yes."

This caused Hermione to become even more suspicious now, but while she wanted to quickly slam the door in their faces, Pansy felt there was an opportunity here when she had caught sight of the woman's badge. 

These badges were very familiar to Pansy. The amount of times they had been flashed in her face after the war to question her with authority were enough to where Pansy learned to spot a fake from a real one. Pansy was no longer the little girl who couldn't tell veritaserum from water!

At Moonvine, Pansy had met an assortment of witches with all sorts of careers, including one who claimed to be an Unspeakable. Pansy had spent the night complaining about how she had been harassed by those that were pretending to be part of the MLE. To try and cheer the pretty witch up, the Unspeakable had given Pansy a response as to how to spot a fake badge. 

"Don't bother with them, just report them. If you know how to add then you're far more intelligent than any of those that are claiming to be smart. Do you think a wizard ever goes straight to maths to solve a problem? No, he'd rather throw a bunch of spells at it first… and that is where countless wizards have failed every time with such a mindset, because such a method can't be used. Not with these badges."

Pansy at the time didn't fully believe the woman who claimed to be an Unspeakable, "Why do you say that—is there a trick?"

"At our most basic, human brains naturally love a good pattern—from cross-stitching, the way we create music, to the movement of our wands, even staring long enough at a sequence of numbers we'll find ourselves a little pattern to go along with it. While this instinct sometimes proves inefficient in our everyday life, including the tendency to create conspiracies out of thin air, the Department of Mysteries has it as their favorite pastime in learning about such things. How about you give it a try on a badge and see if you can crack it?"

Something that had been right in front of their noses, yet couldn't be so easily solved if one were terrible at numbers from the start. 

It was a little too nerdy for Pansy to fully wrap her head around at the time, "Okay…how about I start with your badge and you…walk me through it?" How easy it had been to just lean playfully into the ear of the Unspeakable and whisper in such a teasing tone to get all the information she had ever wanted. "Let's find out if you're a fraud or the real deal…"

Ministry departments and positions all follow a set match of numbers starting from the head and to the tail end of the ID—the sum head would reveal one's department and the tail end gives the position. Only the middle part of the generated ID number was what registered an employee individually . The first and last three numbers had to add down to their corresponding seven departments and the possible nine positions based on one's superiority. A badge can't have the beginning use eight or nine and there were some positions that belonged solely to one department. If wrong, the badge will practically become just a garbled set of numbers strung together. 

Did the Unspeakable lose her job for telling her? Pansy didn't care afterwards. Why couldn't the public know about it? Even if Pansy's own calculations were slow, it created an amusing drinking game to play by herself. All the witches that bragged about their high positions at the ministry to Pansy would end up being seduced by her into revealing their very fake or very real badges.

The emblems might say one thing, but this badge number doesn't belong to any department or position that this witch in front of her was claiming to be from. If Officer Reeds walked through the Ministry wards that were administered by Unspeakables and Aurors while having that fake badge on her person she would be arrested on the spot. Being an Obliviator from the Department of Magical Transportation was really impressive, 'Officer' Reeds! 

Pansy now could only think who the hell was this fraud?

That wasn't to say this witch was an actual criminal…anyone could buy a fake badge if they knew the right shady person in Knockturn, but this unknown witch was still hiding her real identity and that was a huge problem. The witch could be a paid actor, a malicious individual, Rita Skeeter, or some other journalist that Padma might be using to help gather information for her without having to break her own code of conduct— distracting, lying, snooping…threatening…

None of it really mattered to Pansy. All she wanted out of this interaction was the Parkinson Family's legal team filing a lawsuit against the MLE once Padma Patil actually crosses this threshold today—the entire Corruption Office can't win their case against Hermione with their own fraudulent mistake in the way…How ironic would it be to have the entire Corruption Office be raided and investigated instead of the Elf Welfare Office? Come for my wife, how about I come after you?

Hermione might know the secret to the ministry IDs, but Pansy doubted the brilliant witch would care about a silly little badge flashing in front of her face from an already confirmed and bothersome ministry employee —and who would be so bold to try that with Hermione Granger in the first place, anyways?!

Padma Patil. Oh, if Pansy's 'darling' wife learned how bold Padma was being right now…Pansy seemed harmless on the surface, but she still had her own tricks that would gladly help give Padma directions straight into the jaws of a hungry wolf! 

Padma soon iterates the importance once again of allowing her in to ask questions when noticing that the two weren't budging. 

With a fake smile, Pansy took her risk, and allowed the two 'officers' to enter the home, "I understand. I made enough mekitsi, you can try some—have you had it before?"

'Officer' Reeds doesn't know she has been found out by the vixen who smiles pleasantly back, "No, I haven't, but that is kind of you to let us in and have breakfast with you, Mrs. Granger…."

Padma was pleased that Pansy was cooperating with the investigation and answered in a good mood, "I've had it before. when Durmstrang stayed at Hogwarts that time. It's made with yogurt, right? Similar to bhatura—" 

Pansy seems curious, "Is it similar?"

Hermione felt like she was on another planet. "..." What was going on here? She watches on as Pansy and Padma lightly chat about bread of all things, while she had to actually let the two officers in. She didn't know what her 'dear' wife had going on in her head, and could only try to silently ask with her eyes, but Pansy didn't answer to those brown eyes of Hermione's, instead she stepped back to make more room at the doorway for everyone.

Padma slides her way right past the door. Hermione is certain that there had been a smug look that the officer cast her way. She gritted her teeth while having to listen to Padma get friendly with Pansy. 

"Er, no, I suppose it isn't too similar, besides using dahi...um—yogurt…" Padma awkwardly took back her words and tried to explain what bhatura was like and how it was made. "But, it's also deep fried bread.It uses maida—finely milled flour. If done right, it's puffy and soft. I don't normally eat bhatura with anything sweet though. I've mostly had it with chickpea sauce and rice or pickled veggies…but I suppose others might have different tastes. You should try it sometime."

"I'll have to give it a go then." Pansy had a lilting laugh, leaving her more breathy than bubbly, but Hermione doesn't see any difference to what this meant— this vixen was just being a flirt!

The idea that Pansy was being friendly with Padma Patil right in front of Hermione's eyes made that stuffy feeling in her heart want to expand and combust.

Slamming the door shut, Hermione's temper caused the enchanted lights of the manor to flicker for a second, but Hermione quickly regained control of her emotions again. Three witches look up at the faulty magic, one sweating, one oblivious, and one secretly smiling knowing the impatient wolf was ready to pounce and bite without even knowing what for. 

Padma pauses in front of the dining room just then and points inside, "You don't eat here?"

Pansy answers first, "This is for formal dining. Since it's just the two of us, we always eat in the kitchens together."

'Officer' Reeds is a bit behind wiping her shoes on the runner. Her hand placed on her chest after the subtle reminder that Hermione's own magic was connected to the enchanted manor. 

The older witch's eyes cast around the decor and furniture. "Lovely home, it's very beautiful." Clearly taking quiet notes of everything she can see. The fraudulent couple just didn't know what for. 

Pansy turns back and follows the same friendly charades with her too, "Thank you, I styled the inside myself!"

Padma looks over at Hermione for a reaction then, "Yeah, it doesn't look at all like Madam Granger lives here…"

'Officer' Reeds laughs along and nods. 

Hermione frowns "..."

I do live here, and is this also supposed to be a jab at my own tastes? I actually would prefer a more cozy and kitschy home with a pop of yellow in the environment…Pansy's tastes actually came from a magazine! A monthly issue of 'Dwell on Dwellings!' on magic decor and homes was still sitting on the tea table in the lounge for goodness sake! Hermione's brain then went on to add, It's not even my house to decorate….

Pansy's face scrunches up, and then makes a light yelp over a pair of garden shoes, nowhere actually near her own feet, but Hermione is still anxious and quick to keep Pansy from falling over from the air she tripped over. "—again, 'Mione, how many times have I told you the boots go in the sunroom with mine?"

Both officers look down now at what must belong to Hermione after all. A pair of gumboots the color of a burnt orange. 

Hermione glances over her own boots, before then putting on a weak smile, "Sorry, I guess I didn't put them away properly the other day," Then turning back to Padma a bit more confident with a reply, "My wife prefers the house a certain way—as you're not married, you won't understand."

Padma didn't care about this jab that Hermione threw back at her, "I have a roommate. I understand."

No, a wife and a roommate shouldn't be the same thing! And, yet , Padma was correct about the fraudulent couple.

Absolutely infuriating…

Hermione scowls again, lets go of Pansy, and then when walking by she kicks the boots herself. The poor and innocent garden boots slumped up against the wall weakly. Pansy notices the bad mood, but being let go causes her to try again at grabbing her attention. Using all her strength to pull Hermione back while allowing Padma and Reeds to walk ahead of them. It was impossible for the officers to be too nosy as they admired the decor and wall paintings. 

It was Hermione's turn to be pulled in by the pretty witch, and the action seemed as if they were supposed to go in for a kiss. Within those seconds, Hermione's own heart trembles. So soon? Wasn't the second kiss on her terms? Again, Hermione couldn't figure out what was going on in Pansy's head, but they were so close together there was not much going on in Hermione's head either, besides staring at those starry green eyes. 

But, the two didn't kiss. Their lips never even touched, as the pretty face moves past her own face, and Pansy's lips brush over Hermione's ear instead. The witch's breath of plum and cinnamon tickles the skin, and Hermione felt her own ears were hot and sensitive. The dazed Hermione greedily inhales the jasmine and berries that suddenly clings and elopes her in warmth. 

Pansy whispers close to Hermione's ear, not noticing the emotional change in Hermione, "Reed's badge is fake." Hermione was thrown back by this new revelation. Her eyes shift to the back of 'Officer' Reeds who was quietly peering into the rooms that had open doorways while listening to her wife."The number ID sequence doesn't add up to her position or department she is claiming to be. If we let them inside, and wait for an opportunity to expose them, we can bring Padma's office to court for this and throw out your own case."

Hermione had thought about how Padma might have been a Fraudma , but she wasn't actually expecting her quiet paranoia to have some basis. Fraudster Moody, who had ended up being Barty Crouch Jr., always talked about staying vigilant, and it was the one advice from a Death Eater that would end up saving Hermione every time!

So, the badge is fake…Reed's at least, if that was even her real name or face! There was also the suspicion of how Pansy knew the secret before Hermione did, but her answer came rather quickly to the reality of how her wife must have experienced harassment from fake badges more often than she personally would have. Thinking of what Pansy just said about an ID number sequence—s o, the secret involves Arithmancy! Of course it does, of course! Hermione internally kicked herself for being slow about not figuring it out sooner. Who in the wizarding world would go straight to a subject that many never took seriously in third year and the high number who dropped it after fourth year for even trying?

While Hermione was interested to learn the method from Pansy, her anger was already beginning to boil at how Padma had wanted to trick her once again! How many notes was this witch going to be taking from their Defense Against the Dark Arts professors that never made it after one year?

Sensing the tension of Hermione's muscle and the energy of magic radiating off the skin, Pansy hurriedly adds, "No, let's scare them a little later…wait until they start showing us signs, or catch them in a crime of snooping. You can do whatever you want then. I'm sure you know when it's best to find the opportunity to act against them."

Usually having a Slytherin teach a Gryffindor patience when it came to falling into other's trickery as bait was a lost cause, but, Hermione could play along, she wasn't that much of a lost cause and understood the need for patience, a wish she had when having to deal with Harry's impulsive heroism when they were younger, but, Hermione's brain was now conditioned to quickly improvise at the very last second to save Harry before his heroism came with a backlash and blew up in the trio's faces…

Hermione could only stiffly nod for now to her 'dear' wife's suggestion. She turns her head to Pansy's starry green eyes, only to feel the brush of Pansy's lips against her own cheek instead, making her body burn hot once more. A light gasp escaped her at how the ghostly sensation of Pansy's lips continued to be felt on her own skin. 

She wanted to smooth it out…she wanted to embed the soft accidental kiss into her own skin, she wanted to scratch that itch in her heart…no, she should wipe it away, but when Hermione lifts her hand to brush off the sensation, she pauses, and drops her hand at her side instead. 

Padma turns back this time in confusion as to why the two had stopped, but at the sight of a sunburnt Hermione being suddenly teased by Pansy Parkinson she interrupts them, "What are the two of you talking about? We don't know our way. Where is the kitchen?"

'Officer' Reed's own eyes shift away from the upstairs and back over her shoulder at the couple's affectionate display; she on the other hand looked more enlightened by what she saw. With the rumors spreading about the married couple being fraudulent, the two actually seemed quite intimate…

Pansy had not been bothered by the stares, she continued to play her part; smiles and winks playfully while pulling away from Hermione, "Oh, just words between lovers~"  Her hands unraveling from the forearms, slowly letting go of her infatuation with the tension of Hermione's muscles that hadn't loosen and were still tense.

It was as if there had been a fluffy red tail wrapped around Hermione's waist, before then slipping away, and leading the officers into the kitchen. 

Hermione is left to recover from the vixen that just  played with her heart after exposing such a trick. Hermione catches up and walks into the kitchen with them.

Spotting Padma that was heading straight for the chair next to Pansy, her heart fell into another sense of crisis, and Hermione announced rather loudly, and a bit childishly, "No, that's my chair!"

Padma's hand is already hovering on the back of the wooden chair to pull it back from under the purple table, "I assumed it wasn't."  Then she looked over at a plate that had food in front of an entirely different spot with a chair that had been already pushed back from the table. 

Magic at Hermione's fingertips causes the plate and mug to slide across the breakfast table in front of everyone, it stopped in the spot that Padma was about to steal.

"You assumed wrong…"

"..." Padma was suddenly speechless by Hermione's outrageous behavior toward a guest. She could now only take Hermione's original seat that had sat across from Pansy. 

Hermione was about to show off her own smug grin, but she felt Pansy's hand lightly tugging at Hermione's wrist to sit down and behave for the time being. She does so, and in front of Padma Patil, she is suddenly motivated to start pampering Pansy, wanting to help spread more plum jam over the fried dough, and asking softly if there was anything else that her wife wanted. 

Her brown eyes occasionally looked at Padma's reaction. The woman was disgusted at having to witness Hermione's play of being a gentle and loving wife toward Pansy. If anyone knew Legilmancy at the table, they would find that Padma Patil was the one now comparing Hermione to that of a dog.

Pansy held an amused smile at Hermione's attempts of wanting to disgust Padma, but she shakes her head, and starts to suggest for the officers to take an empty bread plate and try the mekitsi that she had made "I made enough to share.". Pansy even handed the two women the homemade jam that her mum had made just last year. "Put this on, take as much as you want."

Still trying to push the rest of the last year plums onto someone even if they were a fake!

Padma beams now at Pansy wanting to accommodate her, "Sure!" and starts to take a small stack. 

Hermione glares at the other woman being bold enough to eat her mekitsa and her plum jam, with her silverware, on her plate, and speaking to her wife while in her house! 

With having such thoughts, Hermione caught herself again, and was suddenly confused."..." What is wrong with me? Hermione could be jealous and conniving, but she didn't believe herself as someone who was possessive. She reassures herself again that it wasn't anything of the sort, she was just annoyed with Padma using such tricks with her. Was the D.A. really just some after school extracurricular for Padma? Pansy had asked with confusion in the beginning where the camaraderie was between two D.A. members who fought in the war together went, but Hermione didn't know, and she sincerely wished she knew what happened with Padma too.  

"Don't you have questions to ask?" Hermione asks with a very bad face. 

Dark grapes look up from the butter knife spreading the jam, "Alright, if you want to jump right in. There are people saying you almost killed a man last night, Madam Granger…is this true?"

Oh, we're starting right there?

Hermione didn't flinch with the question thrown at her, she instead lifted her chin and refused to think she did anything wrong, "That was an exaggeration by those who weren't involved. I didn't have any plans to murder anyone. He provoked me first by being pushy with my wife to go home with him. We had a little scuffle, that's all." The man never had a chance to fight back, "The wizard understood where he did wrong and apologized for it. If you'd like, go ask the wizard yourself, he'll agree it was his mistake and deserved it."

'Little' was not the right word to use about that fight, but Hermione would not treat it as anything serious in front of an MLE officer even if she was in the right.

Padma raises an eyebrow at how calm Hermione was pretending to be, "Are you sure you want me to go and ask him about it?"

She shrugged back, "If you want to waste your time some more, I have no reason to stop you, officer.  I never even caught his name, so you'll have to find that out on your own."

Pansy sits her back a little straighter, and nervously asks while watching the two officers taste the plum jam for the first time, "He's not trying to charge Hermione now, is he?" 

Hermione restrained from saying the man wouldn't dare. 

'Officer' Reeds reassures Pansy, "As far as we're aware no battery or assault charges have been filed against your wife. I think only the press wanted to dig into Madam Granger's attempts at killing him last night…Catherine created quite the story, right? People are even calling it a blood bath...That would scare anyone if it was true." The impostor then cuts herself off to compliment the breakfast instead, "This is very lovely, Mrs. Granger, I quite like the little jam," The older witch lifted up her butter knife as she spoke, the little glop of jam was on the end of it, "You make this with the plum that's right on the property?"

"..." 

"Yes, we do." Pansy nods, being the most knowledgeable on the plum orchard that her family raised all these years, "There will be another harvest shortly, we like to do rows going from late summer to fall—this batch is from last fall, and the plum is the perfect blend of tartness and sweetness—just before they hit the ground is the best time, in my opinion, for baking . Though it can slightly get past its prime if you're not careful, but you can still salt them for a few weeks, and it can be saved and served that way."

Hermione has been told herself that the flavor of the plum depends on the season it was plucked so she wasn't surprised by Pansy having this kind of knowledge. Unable to eat anything in front of her with Padma and Reeds sitting at the table with them, Hermione only lifts her mug and takes a sip of her coffee, but there was very little time to relax when Padma continued her interrogation. 

"Where did the two of you meet, again?"

She knew what answer Padma wanted, but Hermione didn't feel like giving it. Hermione sits her mug back down, "Don't you know this? Hogwarts Express. We were all five to a compartment talking about the train ride. It's so far back, it's hard to remember exactly, but I do remember Malfoy rudely going door to door asking for Harry, and letting out Neville's toad in the process. I think Pansy shrieked when she saw Trevor—"

Pansy's lip twitched trying to ignore Hermione's smart mouth and interrupted her with some embarrassment, "I don't remember screaming…."

Hermione looked at Pansy, her memory was actually pretty good, and she was certain that somebody screamed, "Oh, then it must have been Malfoy." Before finally looking back at Padma with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "See, my memory is a little faulty, so forgive me when I get one of these questions wrong, Officer Patil."

Can one be blamed for not having good memory, officer? 

A bubbly laugh escapes Pansy, "It had to be him! He was eager to meet Harry Potter…"

Hermione's smile is hidden after having made Pansy laugh.

Padma corrects her question with gritted teeth, directing the question to the pretty witch since Hermione had no interest in cooperating, "I mean when you began your relationship with her, Pansy...could you tell me?"

Hermione's fingers begin to tap impatiently on the dark purple wood. There should be a correction here once again of how Pansy was being addressed by Padma, but the pretty witch already went to answer instead. 

"We met at Moonvine, and you know this, because you did all this questioning back in April...." Pansy places a comforting hand on Hermione's impatient fingers to calm the movement beside her. Learning what Hermione was capable of, Pansy didn't want spells being cast yet. 

Padma frowns, and there is an emotion that flashes across her dark eyes when staring at the way the two held hands. She finally starts digging further, "I just heard from the wireless recently," Your 'partner' already admitted that you're using the gossip of Catherine Almonds, "That you were seen quite often with other witches at Moonvine all of last year." She then shifts her focus to just Hermione, "This didn't bother you during that time, Granger?"

"Excuse me?"

The hand that held hers squeezed tightly, both of them eye each other then back to the officers. 

Hermione's tone grew cold, "I don't think this is an appropriate question to be asking us, when we were kind enough to invite you in for breakfast." 

She didn't invite Padma at all, and wished she had slammed the door in the other woman's face. 

"Ah, so relationship problems—too busy with your corruption to look after your own girlfriend, Granger?"

Hermione stares down at her hand, unable to do anything with it now that Pansy pressed it down against the table, then back up at Padma with a cold glare, "No, it's just none of your business."

Pansy wasn't amused by Padma's words trying to upset them, "Be for real, Patil, it's a small circle…what is there to hide from Hermione? Why believe something some straight witch says on the wireless?"

Padma raises an eyebrow,  "I might believe you, if you just let me have another look at your marriage certificate again..."

"We already went over this with you."

'Officer' Reeds pushes it now, "Just answer the questions as you would have previously, girls. You went through the muggle proceedings, but you didn't think to mention this marriage to the MoM. Your filed taxes for the previous year showed that your marital status was single…if you didn't lie on your form, Madam Granger, you could only be married between late January to April of this year. It's just a bit fascinating…you just so happened to be married before Rita's January issue exposing you two at that muggle restaurant...handing over documents, which we still don't know what that was about. Or...did you get married afterwards? The day of, perhaps? No, I usually never hear of anyone planning to get married in January, so maybe it was in April? How about you tell us about that? Give us some details."

Hermione wasn't going to give much detail, "I'm well known for doing things early...I filed my own taxes late October, that's the date recommended so it can be processed before January 31st. I didn't commit any tax fraud."

The 'officer' then looks over at Pansy for the kitchenware princess's answer. 

Pansy suddenly laughs in disbelief at the question now being thrown at her, "You think I filed my own taxes? My father does all of that for me. Also, I'm pretty sure we're allowed to file taxes separately. So, regardless, we never lied. Isn't that right, 'Mione?" The pretty witch turns to Hermione with confidence about her own answer being right.

She nods along with reassurance, "That's right. Actually, instead of talking about my marriage, I've been very curious about where you've been getting my personal financial records from, because last I checked, those have been thrown out as evidence. Even if the timing might seem suspicious to you, Rita and Catherine, you have no proof for your little conspiracies and we're not going over this again with you."

Padma sneers, "…just give the exact date from your marriage license, Granger. This can't be so hard for you... Your memory has gone so bad that you can't even remember your anniversary already? You'll be twenty-eight in September…it would be terrifying to hear that our Golden Witch is already starting to lose her memories…"

Hermione refused to give it, as she felt the date would only be some sort of 'gotcha!' with Padma here. Hermione certainly wasn't going to just hand over her marriage license to the witch to inspect thoroughly either—it was easy for a witch to track down a muggle official with a signature.

"No, I just think instead of our relationship, you should keep your focus pertaining to the case, Officer Patil, because my marriage is none of your business. If you need any recollection, you can go do some reading on the case files instead of bothering me about it."

"Oh, so I shouldn't dig into your own affairs that clearly involve your criminal activity?"

The energy in the kitchen seems to be ready to strike with a lightning bolt in the middle of the table at the back and forth interrogation between Padma and Hermione.

Hermione argued back, "Getting married isn't a crime, Patil..."

Padma snorts, puts down the knife, and leans back in her chair now with arms crossed, "Well, it is a crime if you only got married to hide the fact you actually accepted monetary bribes from the Parkinson Family. Even helping you with your embezzlement of 20,000 Galleons with the ministry. I can't possibly believe that you were able to gain such funds for your office on your own and you certainly can't just marry whoever you want, Granger!" 

Hermione tilts her chin rather proudly, her tone channeling Draco Malfoy's very own entitlement, "Pansy said yes, so we did…Do you have a problem with that?"

By the look on Padma's face she did see it as a problem, "No, I just find it so interesting like Reeds, that you had the time to fall in love and get married—to Pansy Parkinson. Who has shown up on every magazine and advertisement since October of 2005, because of you, because her father happened to suddenly approve of a budget form that had been rejected countless times before." She glances over to Pansy now as she begins to grill both of them, "You say the two of you have been in a relationship since '05, and yet, Pansy's actions at Moonvine clearly showed that you weren't together. Now you're married out of nowhere? Unless I'm missing something here? How about helping me with the timeline?"

Hermione shrugged,"Well, I never embezzled money or accepted bribes, so no timeline to give you there..."

"Tell me then, did you offer to give a witch 'Miss October', because Golden Witch Granger just wanted to show off or was it really because you used her to go to daddy's office for you?"

That was one way to accuse Hermione's own character, but she had to accept the former. "I was showing off." She then had a suspicion of her own about Padma with this sudden aggressive targeting, "What did you try to promise?"

There was no answer from Padma. "So, you abused your celebrity status."

Well, that had nothing to do with my position at the ministry and certainly never helped it. "And?"

"Was it worth it to make a fool of yourself then? All of that, and still, Pansy continued to talk to other witches."

Hermione sneered at Padma's attempt at wanting to get a rise out of her with this style of interrogation, yet still couldn't help but to throw out a retort for herself, "I'm the only witch she has ever gone home with."

"Are you sure about that?" Padma plants doubt and raised the corners of her mouth like she knew more than Hermione. 

Last night she had been sure about it...That stuffy feeling in Hermione's heart made her feel even more uneasy. Almost raising herself out of her chair to confront Padma with a higher standing, but Pansy kept holding her back down in her seat. 

Pansy didn't want to deal with this annoying rapid fire between the two witches. She leaned a little over the table at Padma, and her next words had an edge to her tone as if she was threatening the MLE officer with it, "I will tell you again, just as I had before when you interrogated me, and now in front of my wife, your thoughts about me are unwelcomed, Officer Patil. Those rumors you keep hearing were all just for show to keep our relationship out of the limelight before all of this. This circle is small, we're all a little friendly with each other, but I didn't kiss or go home with those women at Moonvine or any other club, and everyone at this table should know by now that I have never been unfaithful to Hermione, nor will I ever be. Every witch at Moonvine knew I dropped everything for Hermione and I had no interest in them. I spoke with you once—one time." Pansy pressed back into the wooden chair then after grabbing Padma's attention with her words, "A week before Hermione asked me for a drink and I accepted her advances. There, you're not happy to hear it, but that was when I met with Hermione and we spent enough time together to eventually get married. Hardly any time for you to be jealous, but if that's the case that it didn't turn out to be you, I hope your senior officer is aware of you abusing your authority to tear Hermione down right now, because this is extremely unprofessional."

Hermione's brow slowly began to furrow in thought to these words. 

Was there really history here?

By the way of Pansy's starry green staring directly at the dark grape eyes without blinking and with a stern expression, Hermione suddenly felt a pressure not between the MLE officer and herself, but Pansy and Padma instead. 

'Officer' Reeds looked more like she was listening to a drama show on the wireless, eating her mekitsa and darting her eyes back and forth to take in the reaction of the three witches with their messy and exposed love triangle.

Padma's jaw was stiff, but after the small staredown with Pansy, she finally conceded, and looked away with an uneasy smile, "It might seem inappropriate, but I'm only doing my job."

Pansy didn't agree, "You already have your answer from us, if you believe it or not. It's very insulting to have others question my marriage, as if they have any knowledge of what goes on between us."

At this time, Hermione and Pansy both swivel their heads at Padma's 'senior officer' who hadn't interfered at all. 'Officer' Reeds nervously coughs with everyone's eyes on her, putting down the fried dough and starts to hover over her own seat as she stands up, "Excuse me, but I need to use the toilet— this old bladder. Could you tell me where the bathroom is?"

Hermione's suspicions were on high alert again. How many times had someone asked to go to the restroom and end up snooping instead?  You want to start now with our attention all on Padma?

It would come as no surprise if this turned out to be some journalist writing another messy article and exposing their relationship with whatever she found in the manor. Hermione, of course, won't let the woman get too far out of her sight. 

She stood up then, pretending with her own good and obedient behavior when it came to her elders, while her thoughts instead were suspicious of the older woman, "Of course, I'll show you."

"Thank-you," 'Officer' Reeds didn't make up any excuse to dissuade Hermione from coming with her, and just needing directions. 

But, did the woman really just need to use the toilet?  No, it was still possible for this woman to make the slip. Even though it was Pansy to point out the fake badge, Hermione had learned not to trust such characters to start with so if the unknown woman had asked to use the bathroom before, Hermione would have still followed her out. How many times has she witnessed a helpful and kind wizard expose themselves as being someone entirely different in the end—someone that couldn't be trusted at all? Rat. Friend. Professor. Ministry Official. They all ended up being someone that had only wanted to harm her best friend. 

Hermione shares a glance with her wife who only gives her a curt nod to follow along with it. This must be where things were going to take a turn, and Hermione could see fit on how she wants to go about this. 

At the same time with the tension not as heavy anymore with the interruption, Padma asks, while she keeps her eyes on her plate, "I really like this jam…"

"Take it home with you." Pansy answered, keeping her tone even and looking away from Hermione. Just because she called the witch out didn't mean Pansy couldn't throw a plum jar at her on the way out the door. 

Hermione was already at the door, but she spun back around to Padma who was now tucking her tail in front of her own wife. "As an official, you can't accept what is offered to you— it's called bribery. " 

And, you can't marry her to get out of that!

Padma grits her teeth at Hermione's own blatant reminder about her current position, "A little jar of jam isn't going to get me to drop the case, Granger. Don't you need to show Officer Reeds the toilet?"

The officer put a little more jam on the fried bread and continued to tear and eat, not wanting to pay anymore attention to the other witch.  Left with being unable to have another argument with Padma, Hermione walks 'Officer' Reeds from the kitchen, and shows her the guest bathroom that was just down the hallway and past the stairs. 

Hermione points down the lit up hallway for the imposter, "It's the door all the way to the end there."

The older witch politely thanks Hermione and heads that way. Her own eyes remained on the back of the woman, but occasionally they kept shifting back to the kitchen doorway. There was a muffling of more questions being asked, though Pansy was rigid with her answers after exposing Padma Patil's feelings towards her in front of Hermione. 

Looking back to the bathroom door that closed behind 'Officer' Reeds, Hermione cast a sticky charm on the steps, and even a quick surveillance alarm on the staircase to give her a loud warning if a 'mouse' gets caught in the  trap. Hermione then slipped back into the kitchen as she heard Padma speaking again. 

"—get along with Hermione?"

Pansy answers nonchalantly as she cuts into her own sausage then, not looking up when she speaks, "My brothers adore Hermione, and especially my mum. I think she might like her more than my sister-in-law…"

That certainly wasn't true. Hermione hadn't met all of Pansy's family members and only met one brother. She shook hands with Mihael, Pansy's eldest brother. He seemed alright to Hermione. He was polite, but his mind was often preoccupied with other matters that the wizard would rather attend to. Mihael reminded Hermione of how Ron's own brother Percy was like. He had a wife, Cassandra, who was pregnant with their first child. 

Hermione hadn't met Milomir at all besides what was from the photographs at her in-laws' house. Milomir's youthful face would appear bright and optimistic in contrast to his fraternal twin's patient, but weak smile. There were no photos of Milomir as an adult. She had thought he might have died during the war, but Pansy had explained that Milo was just unfortunately very busy that day. 

Mihael had snorted a response of his own before walking past with disgust in his tone, "Yes, it couldn't be because the coward was afraid to finally witness the second coming of—" Yvette had sternly scolded her thirty-one year old son, before Pansy could make a move herself, and his voice fell away. 

Yvette was gloomy with only one explanation about her son's absence while her other two adult children silently glared at each other, "Don't bother with those two. For Milo not to show himself to you is actually him giving Pansy a face—at least that boy has some sense there not to get in the way of things."

From Yvette's words that had meant the siblings had a falling out, but that Milomir respected Pansy's wishes of not ruining the mood. If that was all true, why did the pretty witch pretend in front of Hermione, and speak of Milomir as her cherished older brother that could just pop in any time? It was never said, and she had no idea what Milomir had done to create such a bad taste in Mihael's and Yvette's mouth when spoken of, but Pansy's behavior was a bit like using the excuse that she had with those closest to her that have done her wrong, 'That's Milo!' 

Padma hadn't noticed that Hermione had returned, continuing to pester Pansy, "What about your dad, what is his relationship like with her—does he like her?"

"Not enough to listen to her progressive ideas about the elves, but the two get along without casting spells at each other at dinner and when they crossed paths at work." Her fork scrapes around the sausage she had cut up, but had no interest in eating anymore. 

Definitely not enough to ever approve a 20,000 Galleon budget form…so maybe that shouldn't even be said. 

Hermione chuckles at the lie about getting along with Igor Parkinson, and answers from behind Padma, "Yeah, he just tolerates me."

The MLE officer peeks over her shoulder, but doesn't comment why Hermione was back so soon, "Before, or after the two of you got married?"

Sitting back down in her own seat, Hermione shrugs at Padma's question, "Does it even matter?"

Padma was about to open her mouth, but suddenly Hermione heard the surveillance charm go off, screeching obnoxiously all over the house that there was an intruder— That was quick—I just left the scene!

"I certainly commend you for trying with me, Patil…" Hermione spun back around to grab the tail of the rat who was trying to shut the noise off at the stairs, but got the feet stuck inside the steps. 

"What is that awful noise?"

"We caught your pet rat…" Hermione answers with her own inside joke, she looks pleased by having done so, but she sounds nothing of the sort. 

Padma's face paled as she watched the ugly smile form on Hermione's face, and muttered, "Shit…Granger, wait!" She scrambled out of her chair to save her partner at the same time Hermione quickly turned away and headed out of the kitchens with a bang as the door swung against the wall, sparks coming off her curls. 

"She is an officer of the MLE!" Padma warned with her own wand drawn. "You point your wand at her, and you will be committing a crime, Granger!"

Pansy sneered, "Are you sure it's Hermione here committing a crime—or is you ?" Could an MLE officer not dismantle a simple charm that a teenager would put on their own diaries? Should an MLE officer go wandering discreetly around a house? The department really needs to train their employees better then!

Padma's face scrunched up in anger to the hostile question, but didn't have the time and followed quickly after the mad Hermione. 

Officer Reeds was panicked after realizing she had fallen straight into Hermione's very simple spell. She kept tugging at her foot that was trapped inside the step. Her face was now pale and sweaty, eyes darting around like a cornered and trapped animal. 

"Ah, it seems you found my decorations in the house...do you like it?"

By the time Hermione appeared and announced her presence the noise of the alarm finally shut off. The older witch had her wand already out, but it wouldn't ever stay in her hands long as Hermione's own magic could just as quickly disarm before the woman could even guard against her, and with one simple movement from Hermione's fingers, 'Reed's wand came flying and landing in another's hands with ease and almost zero resistance.

"Granger..."  This imposter was courting death!

Hermione came straight for her with a cold glint in her eyes and the wand turned against the owner, "Padma doesn't have a warrant to be snooping around my house like this. So, Reeds, either you're a thief or you're breaching illegally. Either way, the moment you stepped into our house after revealing a fake badge to my wife and I, you were committing a crime—"

"What—how dare you point your wand at an officer?"

"Which hex should I use to make you start telling the truth about who you really are? Or…maybe I should just get out the pest spray—rat, doxy or bug—I'm sure we'll figure you out soon."

The older woman trembled under the pressure of magic that exudes from Hermione's being. Hermione's brow is knitted together and her teeth are visually barred, as if might actually take a bite out of the woman for being out of bounds. Pansy finally follows behind out of the kitchens, and stares at the scene of Hermione pointing a wand at the panicked witch who kept trying to pull her stuck foot out of the steps, but was unable to do much with Hermione threatening her. 

Padma sneers at Hermione's attitude, and stands bravely at her partner's side with her wand raised back at Hermione. Having witnessed Hermione's spell casting when they were children, Padma felt confident that she could keep up with the brilliant witch if this went poorly. "Calm down, Granger. If you're innocent, what's wrong with this approach? Why don't you just let us search?"

For Hermione, she already had a list of spells ready if her own bluff and visible wrath didn't scare off the other two witches. 

Again, much like how a crowd of people at the Nott-Lovegood wedding had been when confronted by Hermione's temper,  both Padma and 'Reed' tried to make eye contact with Hermione's wife for help, but there was no action by Pansy to mediate the situation. In all honesty, this was a lawsuit in the making against the MLE— why actually intervene? Hermione was only defending her own home from intruders that falsely claimed to be an MLE officer! Everyone knew the wolf bites!

Hermione didn't lower her wand even in the presence of Padma being an officer of the MLE. 

"Nice try," Hermione's attention shifted to Padma, "But, I'm well aware of my rights. My wife may have invited you inside our home on the pretense of that very claim of our innocence, but that still doesn't mean you have permission to go where you please in our home. You have no warrant, therefore you can't legally search our home. I mean, seriously, you're the one that has a lot to hide here, Padma! Who is this woman supposed to be? Because she isn't your senior officer!"

Not answering that, Padma suddenly challenges Hermione with the laws herself, her wand never wavered under Hermione's own sparks of magic, "Under the Dark Arts Suspicions Act of 2000, we can search your home without a warrant under the suspicion of activity actually!"

In 2000, the Magical Law Enforcement had an act passed to legally allow them to search and seize the homes of Death Eater sympathizers and families of Death Eaters that had already been charged and sentenced. Hermione, Harry and Ron had backed such an Act at the time so that the Ministry could confiscate dark artifacts from such properties, but it was not a legal way to ever actually arrest anyone. Even if other Aurors abused this very Act in actually making arrests against those that had unknowingly held dark items for their Death Eater relatives, including stopping and harrassing people in the streets of Diagon Alley while searching belongings and grocery bags. 

In theory, it was supposed to crack down on the Dark Arts, but in reality it only harbored hatred and discrimination against those that were found innocent. From the young Carrow sisters, who had to actually change their own surnames so they would not be associated with the other Carrow twins that tortured Hogwart students during the war, to Astoria Greengrass who had her own shopping bags snatched from her hands and caused a spill of vegetables and meat to spoil in the streets, but finding nothing dark, to even Theo Nott who had a strict strip search upon entering and leaving the Ministry of Magic every time as if it were protocol, including having an Auror walk right up to him on the streets and check what the last spell had been on his wand without argument or badge to be shown.

After a few legal disputes against the MLE department and Harry's 2004 interview, it hadn't been popularly used since, but it was still in place.

"Are you serious right now?" Hermione can't believe such a thing to be used against her.

Padma nods, "Again, if you have nothing to hide, why does it matter?"

Hermione didn't budge, "You're going to abuse such an Act on me —you think that is going to fly with your superiors or the Parkinson Family's legal team, Patil? First off, there is no dark magic here, and second of all you know that the Act only pertains to those who have family members or history of themselves committing such forbidden acts."

This time the woman who claimed to be an officer puffs up her chest, despite her own wand being pointed back at her, "Oh, but your not so innocent wife actually has a file on her at the ministry labeled with precaution, and thereby should allow Padma access to search the home…"

Pansy pales at the mention of this reminder. She was found Not Guilty for all charges that had been brought against her during the war, from being a traitor to even being a torturer, but her reputation forever remained as the witch who offered Harry Potter to Voldemort, including being the ex-girlfriend to a Death Eater. It never stopped the public from wanting her to rot in prison and making false reports, not until Harry Potter stepped forward and vocally put a stop to it. Only a loud minority ever said anything. That was likely the cause for the caution label to remain on her own file to this day. 

Hermione doesn't know the whole story, but she knew such suspicions likely hurt the innocent Pansy Parkinson, so she refused to back down. The wand in Hermione's hands trembled when having to be pointed at its original wand holder with such deadly intent, but it could only obey the powerful witch. The anger was starting to rise in Hermione's heart at 'Reeds' words about her wife, the cackling laughter starting to creep up on her, and the sparks frizzed her hair. The enchanted lights flicker once more around them. 

"I don't know how you have such out-dated information on my wife, but, I say again, you don't have a warrant. You're not even an officer. So, you're not welcomed. Get out of my house…"

A heavy and cold wind blew through the corridors and rooms of the enchanted manor and it slammed open the front door for the unwanted guests to leave. 

"...or, I will throw you out." Each word came out slow and low as she stared down the two witches. 

The enchanted manor itself would have thrown out the women at the command of the mistress of the home; no need for herself to even lift a finger to that threat. 

Hermione, having grown up in a non-magical household and only familiar with the Weasley's Ghoul in the attic, she had never seen anything like it to where the magical house obeyed her temperament and demands, but she didn't flinch or jump like 'Officer' Reeds did when the front door aggressively opened as it did. Jerking back a bit the witch's foot finally popped out of the step, but her shoe was missing. 

Reeds looked deflated again, but her eyes glanced over her wand that was still in Hermione's hand, "I'd like to have my wand back first."

Hermione threw it out the door without much care to what might happen to it. "Go fetch it."

Pansy's eyebrows rose high with amusement, the corners of her lips twitching upward into a smile at Hermione's behavior. Her starry green eyes followed the discarded wand as it bounced and hit the stone outside, causing sparks to fly. 

The imposter's hair started to change to a very curly hair with silver strands that blended into the pale blonde—soon green eyes appeared and even the metal seahorses looked a bit skewed with the current short haircut. 

It turned out to be none other than Rita Skeeter. 

The journalist hadn't realized that the potion had completely worn off, and had exposed her true identity. The moment she had seen her wand go flying out the door, she felt rather put off by what she had just witnessed, "The absolute disrespect…" 

With the wand now outside, she could only follow after it, but the older witch's legs still shook slightly underneath her. Rita had wanted to bolt across the hall and out the door, but could only cautiously step aside from Hermione who might not have a wand pointed at her anymore, but could still hex a witch to oblivion with just a finger. "...the unwillingness to cooperate with the investigation and our office will be noted, Madam Granger!" 

Padma's mouth opens, but no words left her to warn Rita that her disguise has been exposed. 

"..."

The top of Hermione's mouth curled up into a snarl at the sight of the old journalist, "Oh, yeah, what office? Because it's certainly not the Corruption Office…"

Pansy joins in and answers with a bubbling laugh, "According to her badge, the Transportation Department…which is quite funny, I could've sworn Rita is commissioned by the Daily Prophet!"

With eyes wide, Rita finally realized for herself that she was found out—not wanting to stay in the presence of Hermione's magic any longer knowing that, she said her goodbyes and quickly scurried out for her wand. She snatched it up off the stone and gravel. The stairs inside soon spit out Rita's heel at Padma's boots. The journalist is quick to summon it back to her and she didn't forget to call for Padma to follow after her in the morning drizzle. Rita knew that just being able to leave the manor after being exposed was Hermione letting her off easy for the time being, and it was best not to risk any further involvement with the brilliant witch.

Padma's hand squeezed her own wand, but eventually lowered it. She clearly lost this round with Hermione, again. "I'll be sure to bring a warrant next time—to search all your properties, Granger, and then let's see you try to hide from me. I know this marriage is only a cover story for the bribery and favors between the two of you, I don't need a morning host or a journalist to tell me that, but when I find that evidence alone, it's over for you—the games are up!"

Hermione chuckles lightly on the surface, not wanting to appear that she was bothered by the threats of the warrants being approved, "A hundred and fifty points to you then when it happens, but doesn't mean you won. I'll just see you in court over today." 

The other witch pauses when she hears that she hadn't scared Hermione, "A quidditch reference from you? Now I know you've really changed…" Padma's eyes glance over Pansy now, "I hope you reconsider with what I told you about Hermione..."

Padma left and the red front door shut behind her with a click and a lock. 

Hermione finally lets out a breath of relief, "What a morning…" Then sits on the edge of the steps. She smooths out the wrinkles on her forehead, then tilts her head up at Pansy who was still staring at the door. 

"See?" Pansy seems quite proud of herself when she spins around. "An absolute fraud—It turned out to be Rita all along. Should have figured it to be…those two have been collaborating with each other for a while now."

Hermione questions her, "I'm shocked you wanted to take such a risk like that at all—What if she left something behind to observe us? I stopped her from going up the stairs to find out we don't sleep together, but I didn't counter that."

The pretty witch's proud smile falters slightly when finding Hermione not as thrilled, "You're bound to the house, so it only abides by our magic…if there was something left behind, we'll know, so nothing to worry about there." Pansy then sits down beside Hermione on the steps, "I wouldn't have allowed them in if I didn't know a fake badge from a real one anyways, but now we can use it against the Corruption Office…isn't that a good thing? Our legal team is going to have a field day about Padma's incompetence in court."

Hermione frowns and twists her neck to look directly at Pansy beside her, "True, it'll be in our favor, but I didn't think Slytherins took such risks…is what I mean."

"Oh, but, we do…" Pansy explains, "Especially the ones that we gamble on that could save us or give us something good…of course, there is the possibility that Padma can still get a warrant approved, but that just means…" Pansy puts her elbows on her knees with her chin resting on her fists, looking younger than how old she currently was, and her starry green, still holding a constellation that Hermione couldn't yet read, stare back at her, "...well, what do you think it means, 'Mione?"  

Pansy questions the brilliant witch for the knowing answer that would solve that rather quickly for them. 

Hermione groaned at the idea of what she would have to spend their day doing and rubbed her closed eyes to block the charm that was Pansy Parkinson, "I have to actually move in…"

"I'll help you pack..." For Pansy Parkinson, it was a pretty good morning for her, because she never had a loss!

She hums in thought then removes her fingers from rubbing her eyelids. Hermione internally begins to lists the things in her flat that she couldn't miss this time around to bring back with her, and most importantly, "I guess it'd be great to have my mustard chair in the lounge—I've missed it."

The smug witch, having had everything go her way this morning, suddenly crumbles when she hears this out loud, "Did you just say mustard?"

Hermione's 'Cozy Kitsch' and Pansy's 'Celestial Regal' were going to clash!

Chapter Text

A frozen mouse slowly rocks back and forth in the air like a pendulum while large round and gold eyes follow the slow movement. Just as a sharp beak goes in for it, Pansy's magic holds the mouse in the air and pulls back. 

The witch then raises her hand to stop the owl, while her other hand holding her blackthorn wand stays pointed on the frozen mouse.

"No! First, you have to promise us to send the letter to our legal team…"

A low hoot leaves Gracie's throat. The owl's coffee feathers ruffled as an added visual response to show Gracie's non-compliance. Gracie even turned her head 90 degrees in order to ignore the witch who wasn't going to feed her the mouse. 

"Podgy little shit…"  Pansy grumbled.

She didn't swear around children or polite company, but animals were free game— especially when they were acting like massive cunts! 

Hermione is standing just beside Pansy, holding the letter that she had hastily written to the Parkinson legal team on what happened with Padma and Rita. She gives Pansy a side-eye. 

"Pansy…Don't call Gracie that…" It sounded helpless, as if Hermione knew Pansy would continue regardless.

"Being a twat then?" Pansy changed her vocabulary with some confusion. "Not really a favorite of mine, but I suppose I wouldn't go so far as calling Gracie a massive cunt, but she's getting close."

Pansy gives a dirty glare to Gracie then. 

"None of it!" Hermione was exasperated. 

She was more impatient toward her wife's swearing than the owl right now. In fact, Hermione was thinking it would be a good idea to set up a swear jar with Pansy and donate the money to charity. The jar would gradually accumulate a good amount of coin between 'Morgana's tits', 'bitch' and 'cunt' —with 'massive' as an adjective between those two. Maybe if Hermione said she found similarities in Pansy's swearing with Ron's, maybe the heiress would change her tune. 

The chubby long eared owl ignored the two. Gracie was hunched on the perch that was her favorite spot in the owlery. The owlery was a tower attached to the Plum Manor with spiraling stairs that lead straight up, and it had quite the view.

Just behind Gracie was an arch window with the shutters open, the sun was peeking and coming out of the clouds, and the orchard was below in colors of plum and pink. The last of the morning rain was caught in the light, where the water sparkled as it dripped off the eaves.

"Hermione! We're already three treats in with her, it doesn't really matter what I call her!" 

Out of frustration, Pansy has a little stomp to her sandal. Still even at the age of twenty-seven the witch had childish tantrums at the slightest audacity of someone telling the pampered heiress 'no'— even if that included a bird!  

Pansy had a feeling Hermione would have been more irritated by the situation like herself if Gracie had been a human and not an owl. Her wife has shown time and again that she was more tolerant of animals and magical creatures; always claiming them innocent and oppressed by wizard and muggle society. 

Listen, Pansy is just as much of an animal lover at heart—for anyone to say she doesn't spoil Gracie…that is just untrue, but, the truth is that Gracie knows exactly what she is doing when she pulls stunts like this. The owl was not at all innocent! It wasn't all her cousin's doing—Gracie knows that I'll eventually give in and give her an even bigger treat, because she knows the letter still needs to be sent out! And, Pansy thought to add to her own narration, Gracie has more protected rights than I do in this society as an owl, so Hermione better not ever go there with me! 

Pansy glares at the owl again, "You have to promise on this one, Gracie!"

Gracie snorted and twisted her neck further as if to say, 'No.' again . 

Instead of Hermione's own signature look appearing on her face at the owl, the witch raises an eyebrow with a sense that she could neither laugh nor cry with how many times she's witnessed such a scene with the Plum Manor's stubborn owl and her 'dear' wife's tantrums.

Pansy thinks that Hermione probably should have just taken her time in writing, like adding three coats of ink and even a chance to look over any spelling errors five times over, because Gracie was definitely a hurdle when needing to start their day with a letter.

After the two were supposed to send out the letter, they planned to make their way to Hermione's flat and pack everything that was possible all by themselves so as to not raise any suspicions, but that also apparently included not being allowed to use any of the Parkinson house elves to move the furniture.

"How else are we to move any of it?!" Pansy had to argue with Hermione after the elves were dismissed in their plans, because when the kitchen heiress had originally said, 'I'll help you pack' to Hermione, she had her family's house elves in mind! Not exactly herself!

But, Hermione was quick to remind Pansy, as if the pretty heiress didn't already know this about herself, "You're a witch..."

Yeah, a very pampered witch that has never had to lift a finger if she didn't want to!

They haven't even sent the letter or packed anything yet, but Pansy had to already think up tactics in advance on what to do about Hermione's mustard chair. She didn't want to put it in the lounge! But, Pansy imagines her voicing this would lead into her having to physically fight Hermione Granger about it.

If she had to be honest, as someone who always had others fight for her, Pansy was never very good at winning her own battles and from experience knew what would happen if she challenged Hermione. Pansy would either be wrestled onto the ground in a very uncomfortable, yet ambiguous position shouting 'mercy!' and exaggerating on how much it hurt just for the witch to get off of her, or having to duck behind furniture if spells start flying, or...what would really happen to Pansy was having to storm off with only few nasty remarks to throw back at Hermione, which wasn't really all that intimidating. In fact, it was the Malfoy's way of just putting on a front and running away! But, as a twenty-seven year old witch, Pansy wouldn't say the part where her father would hear about it. 

How was Pansy even going to place such a loud color in her home after she had spent an exaggerated amount of hours decorating every corner of the manor with her own tastes? It was true she had never asked for Hermione's opinion, but the witch never suggested anything either! She had just let Pansy decorate with whatever, because Hermione had the mindset that it wasn't actually her house.

The only thing Pansy could think of was seducing Hermione to get what she wanted. But, Hermione was a witch that— even if she wasn't actually a wooden stick, was immune to Pansy's attempts in the first place. If it was anyone else, Pansy would at least be confident in such tricks!

Again though, the two had yet to finish their first task, so Pansy was getting ahead of herself there!

Hermione asks now, "Um, do you have any other owls besides Gracie and Gilderoy? Another more… competent sibling, perhaps?"

There was a soft 'no offense' to Gracie within those words, but Hermione had her day all planned out in her head, and Gracie was ruining it. 

Gracie continued to have selective hearing so she didn't bother with Hermione, she was instead sneaking glances at the frozen mouse hanging in the air near Pansy. 

"Well…" Pansy suddenly looked uncomfortable. Not wanting to answer the truth about why there were very few owls actually available to her. "She does have another brother…"

Gracie's older brother was stationed with one of Pansy's cousins— Boyan , the one that would not mind killing her off for the inheritance.

So, the answer was obviously no on ever being allowed to even borrow that owl. 

The owl actually knew his directions, could even do aerial tricks on command and whistle to the tune of Celestina Warbeck's 'Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys!' with a proud and puffed up feather chest, and Godric forbid her petty cousin, Rumen, who bred the family owls— who was even Boyan's brother, allow Pansy to have at least one well-trained one!

"But, I don't have permission to use Galleon…" Pansy sounded annoyed that she had to even say that to Hermione.

Why did even the name have such an inflated ego? Fuck you, Rumen! And, fuck you, Boyan.

Gracie hoots now with an annoyed response of her own when having to hear her more talented brother's name. 

Pansy rolls her eyes at the chubby owl as if she understood, "Sure, you might be faster than Galleon, with him always showing off with his fancy loopty-loops and show tunes, but I don't see your feathery butt moving! In fact, I think Gilderoy would get there faster than you at this point!"

She actually had even less confidence about Gilderoy. Gracie called Pansy's bluff on it with another low snort through her closed beak. 

"Call my bluff on it, but I'm right in saying that Gilderoy could find himself lost in Madagascar faster than you'll even get up off your podgy arse!" 

While Pansy's tone was rude, it didn't sound as nasty as it did when she was a little girl, it just sounded childish. Perhaps if all parties were twelve again, it might have had more of an effect, but at twenty-seven it just made others laugh. Hermione hid her face behind the envelope to do just that.

Gracie had a few more hoots of her own to give back to Pansy. She then snapped her beak toward the mouse still hanging in the air, but Pansy's magic moved it away again and out of her reach to stop her from stealing it.

"Promise…" 

The owl showed she wouldn't and pretended to sleep, though occasionally would crack one eye open to see if Pansy would give her the mouse anyways.

"I guess…we'll just have to summon Gilderoy after all…" Pansy was NOT actually going to summon him, she was still bluffing. "And, give him your mouse."

Gracie's eyes popped wide open. 

"Oh? Or , Galleon—we don't really need Boyan's permission. I'm sure the pompous feather wouldn't mind showing up his own sister!"

Gracie's hoot instantly raised in volume as if she challenged Pansy on that. 

Hermione continues to hide behind the envelope to muffle the chuckle she had while watching her 'darling' wife still bicker with a bird. It didn't really come as a surprise that Pansy, to a degree, could actually understand the disgruntled low hoots of Gracie's about her brothers. Humans were known to grow an attachment to their own pets and over time learn the personality and body language. Hermione had once been the same with Crookshanks.

Wizarding owls were very different from the common owl in the wild anyways. It wasn't knowledgeable on one's first day of Hogwarts, besides how owls were smart and useful, but owls that were bred and raised by the wizarding world had magic absorbed into the egg before hatching. 

Magically fed, the owls gain impressive memory, able to read and understand language, had an inner compass— most did anyway, if not counting Gilderoy, as there would always be exceptions, and after learning to fly most owls were trained to know all of the local addresses of their magical institutions from any reputable breeder without the owner's need to train or teach them. 

"Whatever. You can have the mouse…I don't want to hold it anymore!"

Pansy honestly didn't want to keep staring at the frozen mouse, so she tossed it into the owl's direction.

"And, If you're not going to do it... I'll just summon Galleon." She couldn't actually summon an owl that didn't belong to her, but what does a five year old owl know? Two witches present should be enough to make it sound believable!

She called out to Morgana silently in her heart that her tactic worked on Gracie. Pansy went to hold Hermione's wrist as if pretending she was going to guide her away, but the two witches didn't move a foot. Both witches, while secretly waiting, had to watch in disgust of Gracie swallowing the mouse whole. 

The one uncomfortable thing that came with having an owl was feeding their favorite meal: rodents. Food pellets were the easier and less messy alternative to feeding in Pansy's opinion, but a frequent change was overall better for a bird's diet and health, and Gracie would be sure to let her know her favorites. The second nasty thing about feeding Gracie a mouse was what came after— owl barf with all the things that owls don't digest. 

Having been a little green in the face from watching, Pansy's color was able to return as Gracie began to start flapping her wings excitedly and showing she was ready to accept the envelope. 

Turns out my cousins couldn't completely sabotage me!

"Finally! The mouse did the trick! Quick!" Pansy instructed Hermione with what to do with the letter, "Before she changes her mind, Hermione!"

Hermione silently handed it off to an outstretched talon. "..." Sure it wasn't rudely comparing Gracie to her brothers that motivated her? 

With a departing hoot, and her talons clutching the letter tightly, Gracie spread her gigantic wing span and flew off into the now late morning sky. 

Pansy and Hermione soon left Plum Manor right after sending Gracie off. Hermione's flat was in London. It wasn't raining and the sun was out, so they left their umbrellas and raincoats at home. The two had to first walk from a designated apparating point that was hidden in a dirty dead-end alley blocked off by brick walls with old metal bins and pallets. 

For passing muggles on the street, the alley gave the impression that seedy dealings were going on with all the noises that came from inside with Wizarding society popping in and out, or perhaps even assumed it to be feral strays getting into the old bins. It was only just the enchantments that really kept muggles away though. 

Pansy covered her nose with the back of her palm, because even the smell of the place was realistic— piss and trash. There was a lone horizontal light bulb that buzzed and flickered occasionally, broken ground that had puddles of stagnant water, a lone metal door that for muggles led to nowhere, but was an easy access to Diagon Alley for wizards. 

The two peer around the corner for any busy foot traffic, and when finding it empty of muggles who had long gone to work on a Monday morning, Pansy quickly stepped out onto the pavement first, followed after by Hermione. Starry green eyes would occasionally glance over at the cars that would drive by as the 'couple' walked; the warped reflection on the shiny paint would show Pansy's light blue summer set and Hermione's tucked in yellow muggle t-shirt. 

Pansy didn't understand what was so appealing about shiny cars among muggles. They made anyone who stands next to one look ugly and frumpy in the reflection! Might as well not polish the car at all! With a disgusted face at having a vehicle drive by and showing off an ugly figure of herself, Pansy hoped that Hermione wouldn't notice it, because that reflection was not her hot body! In reality, Hermione would have likely laughed at such a ridiculous thought to Pansy's vanity and shallow opinion on cars.

Even though she knew the address, Pansy has never been to Hermione's flat before. She only knew it was a boring brick building nestled between two other blocks that had low to mid income magical tenants living inside. And, Pansy is confident in knowing all of that because the flats up and down the block were actually owned by none other than her friend Theo, and he didn't rent out to muggles. 

She doubted that Hermione had a clue about Theo even owning the building she lived in; the bright witch didn't seem to care at all on what 'Draco's Little Gang' got up to after Hogwarts, besides keeping themselves out of Azkaban after the war. Knowing Hermione's dislike for all of them, her wife would probably go over her tenant contract with a fine tooth comb to be sure she didn't just accidentally sign herself over to being a sacrifice for the Dark Lord's return or something. Well, her wife probably did that already. Reading contracts from beginning to end, no matter how long and tedious it could be, and not needing a solicitor to explain what any of it meant. 

As they make their way up to the building a figure can be seen at the door's entrance. Hermione is quick to grab Pansy's hand this time. It was instantaneous of Pansy to appear as an affectionate lover, leaning herself into Hermione's arm and softening her eyes instead of scrutinizing everything in sight with judgment and disgust. Hermione lifted the handle on the wrought iron gate and it squeaked when she opened it. 

An elderly woman was trimming a small patch of growth along the wall of one of the buildings. Wearing a straw sun hat with a ribbon to match the floral garden gloves that held the trimmer. The woman curiously glanced over the two witches as Hermione politely greeted her elders first, and then introduced her 'wife' to Mrs. Brewer, who was the acting landlady, and her neighbor. 

She raised the straw sun hat from her forehead to get a better look of the pretty model Hermione had brought back with her, "Oh, yes...Pansy!" 

"Hello, Mrs. Brewer." Pansy was just as polite, "It's nice to meet you."

Having never seen the face to the name of Theo's acting landlady before Pansy obviously didn't recognize the elderly witch in person, but there was no need for any real introduction between Pansy and Mrs.Brewer. Only fake smiles and pretend curiosity for the other in front of her wife. Because, while Pansy might not have ever stepped foot in this area before today, she had her 'eyes' and 'ears'. And, the acting landlady of Hermione's building was in fact the very one that sent Pansy the news that Hermione had been arrested back in April. 

It wasn't stalking! It was only out of precaution!

With Theo's help it was easy for Pansy to snoop on the tenant that lived in Block B15. And, with always being busy himself, her friend only assumed it was just another 'Eloise' that she was paying the rent for and didn't think to take a look into the tenant being Hermione Granger. There would have probably been an intervention early on among her friends if Theo ever found out that truth. Instead, he only told the kitchenware heiress, "As a tax between friends, you're not getting the security deposit back this time." It wasn't even her flat, but Pansy definitely couldn't tell her own wife that she wasn't ever getting back her own security deposit all because of Pansy's last incident of when she harbored a cheating ex-girlfriend in one of Theo's high-end residential properties. In order not to be hexed to oblivion by Hermione in the future Pansy was going to have to give the 'desposit' back herself when that day came.

The reminder of such a deadly risk if Hermione ever learned the truth about Theo's misunderstanding with Pansy caused the smile on her pretty face to turn rather thin. 

Mrs. Brewer makes small talk with Hermione, "I haven't seen you in awhile, dear, but your rent is always on time and there haven't been any complaints, so I never disturbed you. I hope you've been well…"

With the newspapers and wireless, the older witch should already be aware of what was going on in Hermione Granger's life, there was no need to really dig. 

Hermione starts to explain to her landlady that she comes by every once in a while, but has been spending time with her wife in another location. With Pansy's rich background it was easy to have more than one residence at a time, so no one would find it weird that Hermione kept her flat. 

The old woman's eyes fell over Pansy again. 

"I have a subscription to Silkin's...so, I could recognize you on my own. May I say, much like with Hermione, you are truly far more lovely in person than what they like to post in the Prophet."

Pansy now beams at the compliment and leaned into Hermione's arm happily, "Thank you, the Daily Prophet never gets anything right…I'm just the sweetest, aren't I, 'Mione?"

Hermione nods and hums along, but didn't sound at all like she was agreeing. The witch was likely remembering that about thirty minutes ago Pansy had called an owl a 'podgy little shit' and the numerous other nasty things Pansy had said and called people that didn't sound all that sweet. Especially when calling Tracy's husband Rimjob.

Well, as long as my 'darling' wife doesn't expose me…

Mrs. Brewer lightly laughs at Pansy's lack of being bashful, and continues, "It's not every day I get to meet a celebrity—well, there is Hermione, of course," She eyes the dark golden hair that catches the light of the sun, "but she isn't one to sign autographs, is she? Would you be willing to give me an autograph if I go get my Silkin's spring issue?"

Pansy wasn't really expecting to have a fan in an elderly woman. Wizards and younger women were her usual demographic, but she was still very happy about it. "Sure!"

Hermione tugs Pansy's hand toward the door to remind her that they were there for an entirely different reason. Pansy gets the hint, and corrects herself, "Actually, I'd love to do that, but how about just before we leave? We'll be here for most of the afternoon."

The older witch agreed and let the two on their way. 

Heading up the small steps Pansy entered the common area where tenants gathered in front of bulletins for building announcements or advertisements for a bunch of odd jobs. There was even an empty cat bowl, but there was no cat that she could see. She followed Hermione up the creaking stairs, and down a few hallways until stopping in front of a glossy green door with the brass address of B15. Letting go of her hand, Hermione used her wand to summon her keys to unlock the door and head inside a very small and currently dark foyer. 

With the cast of Hermione's wand the enchanted lamps blink to life and light up the flat. The aisle of the foyer was lined with boots, jackets on hooks, and umbrellas leaning up against a wall. The first large room is separated into two parts, partitioned by a kitchen island—one side was the kitchen and the other was the den with a simple fireplace. 

Pansy curiously examined Hermione's flat, and took everything in. 

The kitchen had a small sink, ice box, stove, and pantry. The island counter had stools, and one of the stools sat an abandoned plant that had looked pitiful and pleading for water and sunlight. Hermione had completely forgotten about the poor thing. The greenery in Hermione's life apparently didn't get the same amount of love that animals and magical creatures would have. Pansy watched an embarrassed Hermione water the ivy, and mumbled an apology under her breath at it. 

The den had several bookshelves and walls covered in colorful muggle artwork.There was an olive green couch with a burnt orange knitted blanket decorated with an appliqué of crochet monarch butterflies folded over the back. The blanket might have been the craft of Mrs. Weasley, as the yarn had been embedded with love magic. Pansy could feel the warmth radiating from it as she hovered her hand over the butterflies. The mustard yellow chair stood out, sitting caddy-cornered to the couch with an ugly rug on the floor, and a low circular tea table that just barely reached Pansy's shins. 

And, of course, Hermione's books were scattered all over the den if not in the bookshelves; towers in corners, stacked on the table, leaning in the windowsill with a portable wireless as a bookend, and some even hiding underneath cushions and the couch. 

"Sorry for the mess," Hermione spoke up as Pansy had to step over a few books, "I just don't have a whole lot of room." 

The brilliant witch clearly lacked space here to make her own library, but she would have plenty of room at Plum Manor, especially in the room Hermione was staying in. The room used to be where Mihael would often stay every summer when they were kids, and he had installed many shelves for all his own books. 

Pansy wasn't bothered by the abundant amount of books though, she was expecting it with Hermione Granger. With the messy, yet weirdly organized books, Pansy could confirm on her own that this place did indeed belong to her 'darling' wife.

I just wished the ugly mustard chair didn't exist….

She gives the chair the stink-eye, having not a clue of where to put such a chair in Plum Manor. There was nothing at home to match with it either. 

Hermione caught the expression on the pretty features. "What's wrong?"

"It's exactly as I thought it would be…"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, the worst thing here is how hideous your chair is…Not even Morgana would know what to do with that thing!" Pansy had no room for politeness about the eyesore, she even rudely pointed at the couch, "Also, where are we putting the couch?" It was the largest piece of furniture in Hermione's den and her 'darling' wife better not expect her to help with it. 

Hermione is quick to solve the complaints, "If none of it fits, then it can all go in my own study…" She then walked over to the chair and picked up a few books from the seat, their titles were all on magical law. "And, also, there is nothing wrong with this chair. The color might not be to your liking, but it's my favorite chair. It's definitely more comfortable than those  in the sitting room."

Hermione's favorite chair. Yellow chair. Yellow toothbrush. Yellow shirt. Pansy has taken note that Hermione's favorite color must be yellow —Hermione's tones were warm, inviting and earthy. 

Pansy defended her own tastes, "I told you! Those are for the unwanted guests , you're not the one that is supposed to sit in them!" 

She learned the trick from Narcissa Malfoy. That woman always made Pansy sit in the hard seats, and she truly wanted to leave every time she even visited Draco over the summer when they were younger. The one time Pansy was given such a comfortable seating was when Narcissa invited her over for tea and asked her how much it would take for Pansy to 'get rid of' Astoria Greengrass for her— no, not to kill the sickly witch, but to have Draco fall out of love with Astoria. 

"Oh, I don't know, Mrs. Malfoy…" Pansy had said dully at the time, not wanting to get involved with Narcissa's nefarious plans that definitely involved herself having to 'steal' Draco back, despite already coming out as a witch-lover— again, people still living in 1994, including Narcissa Malfoy, "Calling a young girl a scarlet witch, forcing her to drink bitter tea, and making her sit in the most uncomfortable chair while waiting hours for you to make your appearance used to work like a charm. That always used to get the girls packing from your precious son…"

Narcissa really never liked Pansy's attempts of kissing ass and sucking up to her back then, because the woman could sniff out any fakes and gold diggers from just a polite hello— including Pansy just using the Malfoy name , but Pansy's sass definitely made Narcissa miss the old days when a fourteen year old Pansy would timidly reply with a fake care for her 'future' mother-in-law, "Yes, of course, Mrs. Malfoy," and "My apologies, Mrs. Malfoy."

Her wife stares back at her in disbelief, "I'm very certain that chairs were invented for just that— sitting , Pansy."

Pansy rolled her eyes at Hermione being a smart mouth again. 

"Oh, you tell that to Draco's mother…she's the one I got the idea from. I'm just waiting for the day she comes over, and I'll make her sit for hours waiting on us!" 

"..." Narcissa Malfoy coming to Hermione's house? Dream on, Parkinson! Hermione raised an eyebrow at Pansy's pettiness that would unfortunately never happen in a million years, "I think you're the one that is going to be waiting on that for a good while…" 

Pansy waved her wife's words away, "Anyways, this can't all be stuffed in a study… something has got to work with me here!" 

She couldn't give up on her plans of pulling Hermione Granger closer to herself, because of a yellow chair.  

Putting her hands on her hips, Pansy inspects the rest of Hermione's den, trying to get inspired by Hermione's tastes. Even though Hermione had not been living here for a while, it still looked lived-in, and that was mostly for the colors and personality of the room. 

Yes, it could be considered a little charming, so Hermione wasn't that much of a loss when it came to decorating.

There were gaudy things straight from the thrift shop, well-worn things that the Weasley Family must have given for Hermione's first flat, everything here was likely second-hand, but surprisingly, despite it all being a mix-match of things, it blended well enough together in the flat without giving Pansy a flight or fight response. A lamp with tassels with a 'lovely' yellow color, the ugly tapestry rug that Pansy's great grandmother would have at least admired if not herself, a beige ottoman that could fit nicely somewhere at Plum Manor, landscape paintings, a few colorful art pieces, and of course, on Hermione's bookshelves there were charming porcelain cat bookends that were white. While the bookends might be old-fashioned, Pansy always had a soft spot for cats. 

"Okay, well…" Hermione looks around with Pansy. "Padma has already seen parts of the entrance, so we'll just leave that part of the house alone." She then starts to use her wand to summon boxes from somewhere else, "First, let's just pack the books…"

"Do the boxes… have an extension charm?" Pansy asks when looking at the few cardboard boxes with curiosity. 

"Yes, but they still have a limited space. I didn't want to over exert myself on some random cardboard box." Hermione didn't hide that she cast the charm, "And these should be enough—four in total here and I have a trunk in my bedroom that will hold all my clothes and anything else, but I honestly don't have that much stuff to begin with." While stacking the boxes, Hermione adds further that while she had enchanted the boxes to hold a number of items, she points to one small box that would only be able to hold the couch on its own. 

"..." Really, Granger? Four muggle cardboard boxes with an undetectable extension charm…Just add that to the list of laws Hermione just casually breaks when using regulated spells daily. Not even my grandfather's company is approved by the ministry to use such a charm on their Parkinson Cabinets!

Having lived in the Slytherin house where unauthorized magic occurred often for the right price, Pansy understood to look the other way, but with Hermione, her eyes were always wide open at the bold display of her actions. Can my wife be a little more sneaky about breaking the law and not leave a trail of her magic everywhere?

Hermione certainly wouldn't tell Pansy that she has been using this charm for personal use on numerous occasions since the war. The extension could be reversed anyways— as long as all the items were taken out first. So, if there was ever a search warrant Hermione would be good. 

Pansy continued to listen to her wife. 

"I'll leave the bed here. There isn't any point in bringing it with us. Especially not items that the house should already have. I'll even leave the desk behind—having multiple properties isn't a big deal, but if ever questioned why I had been 'living' here without you back when I got arrested, we'll say that I still use my flat as a quiet place for writing." 

It turns out that Hermione was always prepared for a reasonable answer. After some planning of where to start, the witches get to work clearing out the bookshelves, rolling up the rugs, wrapping the lamp in tissue after removing the shade, and even removing the cushions and knitted blanket from the couch. Hermione went over the boxes with some enchanted ink to list all the items that would be put inside.

Hermione walked over to the kitchen to start on what she could after leaving Pansy in charge of the den, and letting her finish up with the books and pictures. There was nothing left in the fridge and hardly anything worth taking from the cupboard. There was still the wilted plant, though. Hermione perked it up with water and cast a nutrient spells on it before sliding the plant down into the box. It would have more friends at Plum Manor. Pansy secretly watched Hermione's actions. The witch packed a few of her favorite mugs and wrapped them with tissue. There was already enough mugs at home, but Pansy guessed they were just something from a muggle shop and had some sentimental value for Hermione. 

Suddenly the silence was broken by Hermione, "So...you had drinks with Padma…Any reason for not telling me that the officer in charge of my case is interested in you?"

Pansy stiffened. Is it my imagination or does Hermione sound like a jealous girlfriend? Why do you suddenly bring this back up?

She started with the lighter task of taking down all the paintings and pictures, and spoke nonchalantly. 

"Nothing to tell you besides what you already know about me when it comes to charming up witches at Moonvine. Padma bought me a drink. I laughed at a few of her jokes. We even talked a bit about Hogwarts," 

As far as Pansy could remember, she never really bullied the Patil twins except perhaps making fun of their taste in boyfriends back at Hogwarts—Padma turned out to be a witch lover, so no wonder her taste in boys was mediocre!  There didn't seem to be any hard feelings between the three over that anyway.

So, while their 'getting along' was mostly gossip, there was also no need for awkward apologies or bringing up past mistakes between them. There were no deep talks or life altering conversation either, besides being Padma's emotional outlet. 

"... and she told me a little bit about her job, but I think at the time she was more like…a rookie—a tea server , I guess you'd call it that. Mostly spent complaining about her superiors." Pansy shrugged while sliding an ugly painting of a colorful house into the box, "…it really was forever ago, Hermione. I know it's not much insurance to use against her now…but a corruption officer having knowledge of Rita using a fake MLE badge will be more effective, don't you think?"

Gracie should have sent the letter to her family's legal team by now. With threats of a lawsuit over the matter, the Corruption Office would become more cautious when handling Hermione's case, and there shouldn't be any more tricks on Padma's part. 

At least, I hope so. 

Hermione agreed with her. If Pansy actually took the conflict of interest seriously there would be need of proof or a good amount of witnesses that Padma held feelings for Hermione Granger's wife besides just a ' she said' over a situation that barely went beyond a drink. If Padma had a crush on Pansy back in 1994 that meant very little in 2007. With Pansy sticking with Hermione, the officer might lose her own patience with the witch she has feelings for. 

Now, the old beetle might be able to crawl herself out of trouble with her good ol' journalist status like all the times before, but Rita was still clearly scared of Hermione, and would still be cautious about what could be written about the 'Golden' trio. Hermione might not be able to touch Rita if she writes no lies, but the witch should be aware that Hermione and Pansy could easily turn anything that was written into lies, making Rita Skeeter suddenly fair game. Such a fear was still enough to keep Rita in line for the most part. 

"Not surprised that she'd like you though…" Hermione mutters darkly, not knowing that Pansy could hear her in the quiet flat. 

Pansy scrunches her face up in confusion. But, isn't it a surprise? I'm still shocked about the amount of witches in our year that came out after the war…Counting with one hand, but still…That is more than I had any idea about.

She isn't sure what Hermione's tone is supposed to mean either. Pansy thinks about their conversation last night and could probably guess what it could have been. 

What is Hermione still jealous over anyways? That I'm the popular one? If anything, Hermione has had more lovers than me—it might not have worked out between any of them, but still. And, the public has already spoken on this matter. I'm a witch to look at on a magazine rack. Hermione is a witch you praise, admire and invite home. The way they compliment our 'perfect match' reveals that truth. 

"Honestly," Pansy's hand paused in her wand movement of guiding the much larger paintings into the box, "With having your secret club, and…you know…" Pansy sounded a bit uncomfortable with having to even mention the past, "...fighting in the war together and all of that, Padma should be more interested in you. You have a lot in common. Not me. Not the one who wanted to hand over Potter…" Her voice quiets then. 

Liking ' Pansy Parkinson' doesn't make any sense to Pansy Parkinson either. Who would ever love me? Millicent did, but I'm still trying to search for the answer as to why. 

Pansy didn't dare to take a risk and pick a side, especially not the one that could get her stabbed in her sleep by Morag Flint— and that might be the kindest punishable act to give Pansy, because torture by Death Eaters would be far worse. She was just a selfish and cowardly heiress that happened to become pretty as she got older. Pansy would never be brave enough like that of Hermione, Millicent and Padma. It was a shock to her at times that witches would still rather buy 'Pansy Parkinson' a drink rather than Hermione Granger.  

It was probably why she held those sparkling drinks like jewels and love letters, because that was all Pansy was allowed to have. There was no 'love' in those drinks or promises. That was a word she could throw around, but it was taboo for someone like Pansy to actually have. They might lie to themselves and call it love, but if there was a word to be used, it should be 'lust'. That had been Pansy's reality about romance since she was a teenager. The one that truly loved Pansy had died for her. The one that Pansy loved before knowing what 'love' even was would never love her back ...to even Eloise who Pansy tried so hard to love…well, Pansy would have been better off having not tried at all. 

Eloise Midgen 'loving' Pansy Parkinson had been the chance to get back at her own school bully, to seek a fantasy, to run away with the money, to twist Pansy's insides and laugh back at her—to remind Pansy the type of witch she had always been and would only ever be in her eyes, and that what Pansy had been looking for had NEVER been Eloise. Oh, but Pansy knew all that. She was just being cruel to herself when the red flags raised themselves and purposefully ignored them. 

Padma didn't actually like her either. Much like all the other witches that insisted they liked Pansy. A prize. A trophy. A decoration. A distraction. A fantasy. Pansy always played those roles well and she's just as guilty when wanting something out of them, so she doesn't take it to heart as long as it's all in good fun. Padma should only like the fantasy of Pansy Parkinson from their school days and how she was hard to reach even now. Padma had even joked that it had been her 'lucky' day despite being down on her luck at work, as usually Pansy was surrounded by a number of talented witches with promising careers. 

With both their backs to each other, Pansy couldn't see the expression that Hermione made when realizing she had been heard.

Hermione decides to just ask it. "But, you don't like her, do you?"

Padma was pretty and talented, but like all the other witches that Pansy tried to find a connection with, there was no breath of Millie that surrounded Padma. Not in the eyes. Not even in the smirk she wears. Padma didn't make Pansy think of any what-ifs and possibilities. There was no stirring of Pansy's heart telling her otherwise. It was just one drink. It was just one quiet and empty Sunday night in Moonvine, and Padma just happened to be there. Pansy was asked, but she never went home with Padma Patil. 

"Do you want to go somewhere?" Padma had hinted with her built up confidence. That somewhere was clearly back to Padma's place. 

"No. I'd rather stay here—" To make the rejection not as awkward since Padma was an old classmate, Pansy grabbed the menu and pointed at a drink called 'Struck By Lightning', "Have you tried this drink before? I've always wondered about the charms the bartender used for the lightning effect."

The deflated Ravenclaw wouldn't tell her and left Pansy alone at the bar, but Hermione was able to answer when Pansy asked her. When ordering cocktails for the pretty witch, the muggleborn always included the muggles equivalent alcoholic drink. And, when staring at the large glass, 'Struck By Lightning', a brightly colored, yet electrifying drink that was a mix of two different types of rum and grenadine, Hermione was able to tell her: Not a daiquiri, but a Hurricane. 

From drink to drink, spell to spell, Hermione always genuinely answered. For Pansy it felt like the brilliant witch was actually there to get to know her. The only witch that cared to take the time to explain all things muggle and wizard, and the only witch that she ever wanted to go home with. 

"Not Padma, no." Padma wasn't Millicent. Padma wasn't Hermione.

Hermione didn't have any more questions for Pansy. The brilliant witch was lost in whatever thoughts she had about that. 

Pansy's eyes glance over a sepia picture of Hermione sitting on a wooden swing set with Ron and Harry standing around and pushing her while their faces look over at the camera. Fingers occasionally appear where the lens was. 

The person behind the camera wasn't a skilled photographer, but Pansy could still feel that warm summer day herself when looking over the Gryffindor trio's sunny faces. One with a spectacles and messy head of hair, one with a well-worn muggle shirt and freckles, and Hermione's wild curls and sunkissed nose. 

They looked no older than fourteen—it had to be the summer just before the Triwizard Tournament, before the Dark Lord rose to power, before Cedric Diggory was murdered; it was the very cusp of the war before anyone had any idea of the terror it would bring and strip away their childhoods. 

Hermione had been closing the box that held her mugs, her eyes glanced over Pansy's quietness. She saw Pansy looking at the picture thoughtfully, "You can just put that one in the box with the paintings. The frame has an unbreakable charm placed on it."

Pansy continues to stare down at the smiling face of Hermione Granger. "Was this at the Weasley's?"

"Yes, I think George and…Fred took that picture." It took a few seconds for Hermione to allow herself to say the other boy's name— a boy, a young man, never to be older than twenty. Fred Weasley didn't survive the war, but he fought bravely by his twin brother's side; never one without the other, and yet… his name alone was carved in gold on a marble plaque in front of the doors of the Great Hall. 

"Oh."

Pansy slides the picture carefully into the box with the paintings now. There must be many photographs like that around Hermione's flat. The photographs held bittersweet nostalgia, but there was also the future the Gryffindor trio had built for themselves after the war. 

From an orange half-kneazle snoozing on a windowsill with the sun shining down on his fur, the fluffy tail occasionally moving contently, and the ears twitching in the direction of the camera, as if hearing Hermione call for him to look into the camera lens. There was a picture of a tiny James stacking building blocks, and babbling silently into the camera to whoever was on the other end. Pansy's starry green eyes focused far too long on the Hermione that was holding a swaddled— well, it was either James or Albus, with the most gentle smile on the brilliant witch's face, before someone behind the camera teased the witch and Hermione looked up with a cross between annoyance and embarrassment, before it reversed back to that gentle smile once again. 

Hermione wouldn't like the comparison, but the change in temperament was similar to how Blaise had held Scorpius for the first time; his indifference was replaced by a warm smile as a chubby little hand kept holding tight to his finger. Daphne was the first to call him out for it and Blaise became endlessly flustered on the spot, handing the baby to Pansy next to deny that he had grown soft. 

The only faces that Pansy didn't seem to find among the photographs were Hermione's parents. She didn't actually know what her muggle in-laws looked like, as she never met the Grangers, but from the gathered photographs, it seemed as if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had become the substitute to that parental love in Hermione's life after the war. Hermione had spoken about her parents only once to Pansy. There was some grievance in her words about how they had moved to Australia, but then Hermione had brushed the topic away by buying Pansy the most expensive drink at Moonvine, without even batting an eye. Having friends that have bad relationships with their parents, Pansy knew better than to ever bring it up again.

Her wife left the kitchen and disappeared behind a door with an empty box in hand that Pansy originally assumed was a hallway storage closet, but she now thought it might be Hermione's brewing room based on the ink reading 'potions ' on the box. 

Pansy continued the easy task of putting away all the photographs that hung up on the walls, and that included the ones in the hallway. She paused in front of one that caught her eye and she kept staring as to why. 

It was one where the Gryffindor trio were out on the Hogwarts grounds, laughing and chatting with the groundskeeper, Hagrid, who stood just behind them. The three look no older than twelve or thirteen. She guesses it was close to summer with how the boys uniforms were loose and wrinkled with none of their Gryffindor robes in sight. The little Hermione suddenly wrapped her arms around the boys. The happiness was clear on all three of their little faces after surviving Salazar's monster. Behind the camera might have been a boy named Colin Creevey; skilled in photography since a young age and had dreams to be a photographer, yet he only became another child that had died in the war at sixteen instead. 

She removes it from the wall. Pansy crouches down in front of the box she was packing, and smiles softly to herself about the little Hermione Granger suddenly putting on a smug expression. The girl stands just an inch up on the slope of the hill, reveling in the sudden height advantage from the boys, but only beating Harry by an inch and becoming shoulder to shoulder with Ron, and most certainly nowhere reaching Hagrid, yet Hermione still seems to take it as an accomplishment. It wouldn't last. By Pansy's memory, Ronald Weasley would have another growth spurt by the end of that summer with Harry's own height creeping up on Hermione's own. 

Pansy finally spots something in the background of the photograph that might have been the source of her interest. It was just over in the corner and slightly blurred with the focus being mostly on the smiling trio and the half-giant that took up most of the frame. There was a girl with a broad back and a long braid. Her side profile was unlikely to be recognized by others, but Pansy knew exactly who the student had been.

Millie's face slowly turned toward what must have been the flash of Creevey's camera. Her small fist gripped tightly to her wand, as if prepared to defend against whatever 'spell' that might have been cast in her direction. The dark eyebrows had furrowed, but parts of the face and mouth were washed out because of the monochrome film. Those eyes seem to bore right into Pansy. Soon, finding nothing dangerous, the serious girl then looks back to the other girls that were shrouded in the shade with the poor lighting and focus of the lens. Then the photograph started on a loop again. 

Pansy might have been among those girls out on the grounds with Millicent, but couldn't see herself properly. Knowing Millicent's lack of conversation and vigilance at the slightest flash of a camera, it could only be for the younger Pansy who was the center of attention. A day Pansy can't remember, snide remarks that she doesn't remember saying, fake laughter she can't remember the joke to, and completely oblivious to how much she weighed in Millicent's heart. Her starry green could hardly look away from that slightly blurry form that filled her heart with so many emotions. Her smile falls. Her hand grips the wooden frame tightly. 

It takes her back to that night. It takes her back to her first time. It takes her back to the girl she took for granted. It takes her back to Hermione standing over her, brown eyes shifting to amber; so similar… so similar to Millie's copper. 

'I see…'

It takes her back to the dream she had this morning, where the curtain blows over Millicent's face and Hermione appears instead when it settles.

"What is it?" Hermione stands over Pansy now while holding a box filled with potions from the brewing closet she had just stepped out of. She peered down at the picture of Hagrid and her friends. 

A smile tries to reform as Pansy glances up at Hermione who had interrupted her thoughts, but it fails, and she could only turn away to hide the ugliness from Hermione. "No, I was just…just looking, that's all." 

Yet, her hands refused to let go of the blurry Millicent Bulstrode and put it in the box. No matter how much her brain told her to let it go, her heart refused in a possessive manner. 

Brown eyes try to find what could be so interesting to Pansy in this photo. Hermione knows that the witch has never got along with any of them or Hagrid—the amount of times Pansy loudly complained in Care of Magical Creatures about the incompetent teaching methods, the monster book that shredded half her wardrobe, even interrupting his lectures with a loud shriek when the Blast-Ended Skrewts— well, blasted their ends in the middle of a lecture… which was enough motive for Pansy to have a vendetta against Rubeus Hagrid since day one in trying to get him fired. 

The witch set down her own box, and crouched beside Pansy, their shoulders brushed over each other. Hermione reached out quietly for the frame, and with some strength she slowly pried it from Pansy's white knuckles. 

Silence settled between them as Hermione's eyes focused on the same group of girls in the background this time. Her thumb pressed on the glass just near Millicent's face, and it became apparent to whom Pansy had been desperately holding on to. Pansy feels that she had exposed too much of herself to Hermione last night after drinking, and Hermione was far too emotionally intelligent not to realize the significance to Millicent, the long search, and from being told by all her friends that Hermione wasn't the one. 

Pansy could only watch Hermione's actions, her eyes anxiously darting from her and to the girl in the photograph. The witch seemed to be contemplating something when she did. Pansy wonders what Hermione is thinking— if she was wanting to talk about Millie, to tell her something about Millie, to talk about that day in the Great Hall between the two of them…the grief Pansy still harbors to this day, and can't let go of, but Hermione doesn't even say anything.

The witch seems to only hum a response while in thought. Hermione lifts her head up from the photograph, her scattered freckles so close and visible to Pansy at this angle, the dark circles under the eyes had long been covered up by the make-up and glamor charms, but there was a hint of something behind the brown eyes that shift to amber again under the enchanted lights of the hallway. That very same lighting carried a halo effect just over Hermione's locks of dark golden curls and waves. 

So similar at times to Millie's own image—a familiar stern brow, her copper eyes glittering under lights, the way the girl stood just as tall and proud as Hermione; a prepared fighting stance if need be. Perhaps Hermione, Millicent and a fifteen year old Pansy would have never agreed to such a thought, but Pansy can't help herself. 

She couldn't let it go, Pansy's grief kept searching for Millie in all the witches she ever considered possible, and only Hermione ticked off all the boxes. Except for one: There was none of Millie's love and devotion that Pansy could yet find.

Pansy didn't feel prepared in talking about Millie with the other witch—what if Hermione believed herself only a substitute? What if Hermione feels insulted? What if it ruined the good fortune she achieved today with Hermione? Because Pansy would be desperate to ask prematurely in turn, ' What do you see—what did Millie see?'  

Eager to learn the answer…so afraid to find out…leaving me in a state of limbo…These amber changing eyes that might not be able to see me at all. 

Before Pansy could find any words to clear her own heart, Hermione begins to take the back off the frame. Pansy was confused by her wife's actions. She opened her mouth, but not even the hinges of her jaws made any noise in the silence. Hermione traced an even line in the air with her left dominant hand. Her magic made a precise cut of a perfect square of Millicent Bulstrode. 

"What…" What are you doing?  

She is handed over the small piece that had Millicent, and Pansy's fingers tremble as she takes the edge of the finely cut square from Hermione and holds it closer to herself.

Hermione's voice plays into her ear gently without judgment, "Keep it."

Pansy was unable to hide how her eyes were starting to water. Looking down, she could see Hermione's hands putting the frame back together, sliding the photograph with a missing corner down into the box with all of Hermione's other bittersweet and warm memories.

Millicent at this moment was looking back at Pansy as she stared down at the Slytherin girl. Her fingertips brushed over the face, but it was so far away now, long into the past and Pansy would never be able to caress it again. Her starry green eyes lifted up and she found that Hermione had been watching her. 

"I miss her." Pansy's heart couldn't help but bleed out all over again, this time with not even an ounce of alcohol in her system to excuse herself. 

"I loved her."

An eighteen year old Pansy confessed with dust and blood on her hands while holding the only witch in the world who had ever loved her.

"I see."

An eighteen year old Hermione answered with the day breaking light cast over her, brown eyes changing to amber, and becoming Pansy's last hope. 

"I know."  So little words, but it reminded her so much of Millie. 

The two sat in silence again, while staring at the picture of Millicent together before Pansy finally put the Slytherin girl away safely to not allow a crease or tear.

"Sometimes, I think you know too much, Granger…" Pansy tried to pretend she hated that, but her aching heart felt warm by Hermione's kindness towards herself.

A twitch appears on the corner of Hermione's lips as if it was going to curve upward. Pansy spots it. Even her pretend hatred was noticed. 

"Really? Sometimes, someone surprises me, and I realize that I know too little."

Out of habit and need for skin contact, Pansy wished to climb into Hermione's lap right then and be held tightly by the witch. To have all her tears kissed away, and have the warmth of Hermione make it all better, even if it's only for a few seconds, even if there was no kissing involved, even if Hermione didn't love her— had no answer to give her yet. 

Pansy's brain doesn't stop her, it comes up blank on all the reasons why she shouldn't. She twists and turns directly in front of Hermione, and climbs into Hermione's open lap in order to be closer to the source of warmth. It seemed to startle the witch at first, and Hermione tipped backwards, but steadied herself to accommodate Pansy who clearly just wanted a hug.

Hermione was kind enough to pull her closer, including petting Pansy's hair affectionately like she had last night, only this time there weren't any hair decorations poking into her palm. Pansy finally felt safe when wrapped in Hermione's embrace. A breath leaves her with relief, as if she had been missing Hermione all this time. Pansy settled and wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck, breathing in the faint scent of lavender that still clung to Hermione's clothes. It blended well with the comforting berry scent that Hermione borrowed last night from herself. 

The scent of Pansy's berries made it feel as if Hermione belonged to her alone. Even if the ring on her finger had not been chosen by Hermione and the two were a couple of frauds, in this small window, Hermione Granger belonged to Pansy Parkinson. She held the witch selfishly tighter, wishing that Hermione's lavender and honeysuckle would become part of her too.

A hand begins to rub her back in a circular motion. Pansy's hot breath paints Hermione's neck red, her nails indent little crescents through the yellow fabric and on Hermione's skin, wanting the witch to just desperately be hers. 

The hand pauses. "Pansy…" A low groan is heard from Hermione who felt the nails dig into her possessively. 

Out of shame for getting caught, Pansy's shoulders grew hot, and it spread over her collarbone. Pansy loosens her hold as a silent apology to the witch, but Hermione's hands shift to Pansy's hips to hold her in place. Pansy stiffens as a response to the witch's actions, wondering why Hermione had tensed up. She wasn't ready to be thrown off. 

Hermione turns her head, curls tickle Pansy's cheek, and a freckled nose brushes over Pansy's blush. That was when Pansy felt lips lightly pressed against the corner of her mouth. It didn't seem to be a mistake with the amount of seconds she counted. Pansy reciprocates then, turning her head to have Hermione properly kiss her.

Soon Hermione's peck on the corner had turned into a long rubbing between the plush lips. Her head tilting, Pansy followed along with Hermione and moved her own lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she wondered if it could be heard by Hermione. She couldn't understand what had gotten into Hermione to suddenly lose control of her own abstinence, but Pansy was not a witch that would tip a cauldron filled with Felix Felicis over. 

Chapped lips from this morning became smooth and smelled lightly of honey balm. It mixed into Pansy's pink lipstick. After some time, Hermione teased Pansy's bottom lip affectionately, and Hermione's tongue licked against the lipstick. In the back of Pansy's mind she was thankful that she had applied a charm to keep her makeup intact. 

Pansy refused to accept Hermione's tongue at first, playfully taking an inch of space away from her, but enjoyed it when the witch came for her lips again. There was a ringing in Pansy's ears, but she chose to ignore it and focus on the excited panting of Hermione's breath that was felt against her cheek. While she had been patient about when Hermione's own kiss would happen, Pansy never thought that in a million years that Hermione would kiss her like this. 

Hermione's weight kept coming and had Pansy collapse backwards off her lap. It was a bit of an awkward tangle at first, but once the lips made contact again, the hungry wolf that was eating her lipstick didn't stop. 

Oh, Morgana, who knew that Hermione Granger turned out to be a good, but messy kisser…this piece of wood didn't need a class at all on snogging!

Hermione was now on her knees and leaning over with her hands on each side of Pansy and trapping her in place. Hermione's toned abdomen pressed into Pansy's own knees that kept the witch at somewhat of a distance with the little rationality that she had left.

"Granger isn't listening to you either, alright? She has impure plots against you. I bet she's imagining you on one of these ghastly tables that Theo picked out—"

No, Hermione shouldn't go that far with Pansy here either no matter how horny she was. There was no agreement on having sex in this partnership.So, there would definitely be a cut-off point with their snogging. As someone who has only had sex with two witches and it only ever being on Pansy's terms and conditions— well, I rarely had sex with Eloise to begin with, her experience was surprisingly poor in that department. But she didn't feel anxious about knowing less than Hermione. Pansy was not afraid of the witch like Blaise had warned her about. She trusts Hermione.

Pansy's thoughts became hazier and difficult to grasp, only her selfish desires remained along with their heavy panting. A moan was heard between both of them. It was just a little hard for Hermione to reach her with the knees in the way, putting weight on her legs, and still trying to lock onto the vixen's lips beneath her. Pansy felt the tip of Hermione's wet tongue finally slip through her open mouth and it collided into her own. It touched a sensitive nerve and another high noise escaped her. Pansy helplessly had her knees weakened, allowing the woman's torso to slide right through and settle on top of Pansy more comfortably. 

There was no barrier now. 

Her fingers that were curled into the soft fabric of Hermione's shirt had tugged the witch in closer. Hermione's hands didn't wander over Pansy's body, there was no interest in her breasts or even thighs which made Pansy feel a little restless. Pansy wanted to glide her own hand down to the forearms and pry Hermione's hands off the floor.  She wanted to feel the tension in the joints and muscles that shaped her wrists and hands and place them onto herself. 

Pansy hadn't a clue about Hermione's own tumbling thoughts. The brilliant witch's brain cheered her on, as her rationality was failing to pull her back. It seemed Hermione really had taken on the kissing assignment like how she had in her Hogwarts years—a Charms essay that should have only been a minimum of 2,000 words with a length of 40 inches of parchment, suddenly became a 5,000 word essay within a length of over 80 inches.

But, in reality… Hermione was just horny.  It had been so long since either of them had been intimate in such a way with anyone, and this vixen had no idea she had accidentally scratched away Hermione's last resolve. It was impossible not to fall for such charms. 

There weren't any more interruptions between them. There was no floo call. There was no owl. There was no one walking in without knocking. Not even a creak of the floorboards or a draft flown through. The world completely ignored Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger. 

A touch traced over Hermione's arm, like another scratch at her own heart. Pansy's nails lightly scratched and traced over Hermione's skin, but the claws and teeth of the vixen were completely harmless. 

Only one of Pansy's hands paused as it came into contact with the currently invisible, yet raised scarring of the skin. Her thumb touched a letter, after realizing what it was, Pansy quickly lifted her thumb off. Hermione moved the arm further away, but Hermione's wrists on both sides were suddenly snatched by Pansy. Thinking that Hermione was pulling away entirely, a weak plea of hot air pressed against the corner of Hermione's mouth as Pansy apologized. She clearly didn't want Hermione to stop. 

But, the gloomy witch asked her to let go of the arm with little emotion and the warmth in her brown eyes was much darker. Pansy knew that Hermione was self conscious of her scar. She hadn't meant to upset her. 

Pansy lets go. Her starry green eyes stared into the ever changing amber— to warm, to dark, to amber to brown, again.  She was afraid that Hermione's mood changed, but her wife still leaned in again to give softer kisses to relieve the anxiousness that was readable between Pansy's eyebrows. She counted the little seconds she had left with Hermione's lips. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev—

Then Hermione pulled away with some distance, the two of them breathing softly in sync together. 

Hermione did her best to appear casual about what just happened between them, but it was still apparent on her 'sunburnt' face, "Assignment over. We should continue packing."

Pansy could only try not to look dejected, and instead lighten the mood herself by teasing the woman above her. Even though under her clothes was still a shade of pink, the vulnerable appearance melted instantly off her pretty face, "Oh~, but, Mione, don't you want to continue in the bedroom?" 

With the heiress's charming smile nobody could find a flaw, and clearly the two wouldn't actually continue anything in the bedroom. It was a safe bet to say it without any follow up. Pansy could then pull it back after she got the results she wanted in embarrassing Hermione Granger first, and regain her flirtatious image she had cultivated in front of others. 

The sunburn had yet to disappear from Hermione's cheeks, but that didn't stop her free hand to reach out and scandalously popped the top buttons of Pansy's blouse back. The lace of her bra was visible, but that enticing view wasn't what Hermione focused on. Opening the blue summer blouse, it easily revealed the pink that spread over the collarbone and shoulders

Pansy's charming smile froze under Hermione's burning gaze after being exposed, and her own confidence instantly went out like a flame. Pansy's teasing tail had finally been snatched by Hermione Granger. The pinkness from her chest could no longer be contained then as it traveled to even her cheeks and hot ears. Even her fingertips felt like they were burning. 

Having constantly been teased by this vixen, Hermione had the upper hand and stared down at the now exposed pink shrimp in front of her with contempt. 

"Now, Pansy, my dear wife," Her voice was gentle, but carried a bit of cold air that caused Pansy to shiver, "say all of that from the top this time…" As if Pansy truly was acting in a play. 

"..." 'Dear wife', my arse! Absolutely not! 

Pansy suddenly wished Hermione had just hexed her instead! She pushed Hermione away from her now. She scrambled to a more appropriate sitting position, and buttoned up her clothes, but was still steaming like a shrimp. 

It's supposed to be the other way around!

The corners of Hermione's lips lifted up. She returned to her full height, and held out her hand for Pansy to take, but the flustered heiress declined, and proved she could get up without her. For Hermione, the vixen's flustered reactions tasted far more sweeter than the confident mask she wears. 

Watching Pansy dust herself off, and fix her inky hair that was slightly out of place, Hermione began to ask, "Do you feel better?"

Pansy looks back at Hermione who asked the question. The color of Pansy's skin soon cooled, back to the kitchenware heiress's fragile porcelain with only a touch of pink under the eyes and ears. It was a similar question to the one Hermione had asked last night after promising her the bubble bath.  

"So, you feel better now then—about everything?"

Giving her a bubble bath, talking about unicorns, putting her on the cover of Witch Weekly magazine, understanding and respecting what Millicent had meant to her, a hug, a kiss…her kindness…her protection…her determination…her courage...those warm brown eyes— those ever changing amber eyes … and an answer to it all… all these things that Hermione Granger could promise to Pansy to help her feel better. 

After mulling the question over, Pansy gives Hermione a soft smile, even if her eyes are a bit red from rogue tears.

"Thank you, 'Mione…" It's neither a yes or a no, but Pansy was quite happy with Hermione, and would obviously be willing to forgive any slights she just had with her. 

The two continued to pack, not wanting to dwell on the fact that minutes ago they were just snogging like a couple of teenagers on the floor of Hermione's flat. After being the one that ended up embarrassed by it, Pansy truly wanted Hermione to forget about it! Not knowing at all that her darling wife's usually bright brain was filled entirely with images of how soft and charming Pansy was underneath her.

The packing lasted over an hour longer than expected, and the two discussed lunch while folding Hermione's clothes and putting them into a trunk— plums again , Pansy made to emphasize the need to get rid of the batch, and thought about making a summer plum salad, while Hermione pestered her about the fake badges and who she learned it from.

"Are you sure the witch was an Unspeakable? Maybe it was just a fluke, and she's just a criminal!" Hermione scowled with some childish jealousy of how Pansy easily flirted her way into getting the answer from a witch she refused to believe was part of the Department of Mysteries.

In front of both of them was a mixture of grilled plum, yogurt, nuts, lamb's lettuce and black tea vinaigrette. All of the ingredients that Pansy had summoned from home and prepped together.

Before taking a bite of the grilled plum with yogurt, Pansy sarcastically narrated Hermione,"Says the Head of Elf Welfare who has committed embezzlement and bribery..."

"..."

Once done, the two cleaned up, and Hermione vanished the boxes to Plum Manor, but wasn't sure where she exactly placed them. Pansy hadn't been too worried if the boxes accidentally ended up in the brewing room. The trouble was where to put that damn mustard chair. After locking up, the two head downstairs and they found that Mrs. Brewer had waited with a Silkin's magazine catalog for the promised autograph. 

It was the spring issue of this year. Pansy was even on the cover. Dressed in a white maxi dress with her hair pinned up, lips red, pearl earrings, and wearing white heels that exposed her delicate ankles. Pansy remembered how she actually wanted to throw those toe squeezing shoes at the photographer for making her stand for six hours with no breaks besides wardrobe changes, and she wasn't even allowed to sit, not until a 'tea time' photo shoot with her modeling colleagues, which by then was around 8 o'clock at night!

But, you wouldn't know that Pansy was dying in that cover, not with her sweet smile still plastered on her face surrounded by floating petal blossoms and a backdrop of a fairytale garden of roses. It was a very pure photo compared to her earlier works. The caption read, 'What dreams may come this season…your wardrobe awaits…'

Pansy had to admit it came out lovely, and was happy to hear positive feedback from fans for it. She autographed the magazine with a flourish that Lockhart himself would have admired. Pansy then inspected it herself as she blew on the ink to dry it. 

'You too can wear what you love with the finest threads at Silkin's♡, ' The signature had been 'Pansy Granger' .

The 'Granger' needed practice, but it was the first time writing it out to fans . A lot of people who want to be famous practice writing their signatures for future autographs, and Pansy was no exception; starting at the age of thirteen, but as a twenty-seven year old witch now, she thought about how embarrassing it would be to be caught writing her married name over and over like a lovesick teenager, especially by her own 'darling' wife.

Pansy felt her skin grow warm under her blouse again and despite it being a tolerably warm day, goosebumps trailed up her arms. She really could not be caught doing that! 

Absolutely mental… Pansy handed the magazine back over.

Mrs. Brewer then handed the magazine and quill to Hermione eagerly, as if this was really her true purpose, "Now I just have to have one from you, Hermione." She then smiled with the good humor, despite putting Hermione on the spot, "it'll make my son and daughter-in-law jealous that I know you!"

Pansy sneers now at the insincerity. Oh, so not a true fan at all...Any celebrity would do with this woman! 

Hermione stared down in confusion. Knowing her dear wife's personality, Pansy must be the one internally fuming with jealousy now for having stolen the limelight. She wasn't even in the magazine! Normally, whenever on the street or at work Hermione would decline such requests, unless it was a small child that guilt tripped her. 

Pansy made one demand out of Hermione who had the Silkin's magazine pushed onto her. 

"Don't write on my face!" 

With a quill in hand now, Hermione side-eyes Pansy, "That's your only request?"

What other request do I need to make? It's rude to sign the face, Granger!

A light chuckle escapes Hermione as if she could even hear the thoughts running through Pansy's mind, "Great. I don't need to write anything cheesy then."

Clearly a stab at her own message, Pansy hissed with some embarrassment while Mrs. Bewer only looked at the couple with amusement, not minding at all what the messages were, "Shut-up! I'm sponsored! It's in the contract!"

The quill went to the magazine and Pansy read it over with scrutiny of what was going to be written. Next to Pansy's own, Hermione's very neat and tidy handwriting wrote, 'I found what I love at Silkins.—H. Granger'

Pansy's shoulders blushed first knowing that the message was about her and gritted her teeth, "Is that not cheesy?" It wasn't just cheesy, it was an absolute lie!

"I'm just showing support for my wife." Hermione feigned ignorance while fanning the ink dry. She then smiled politely at Mrs. Brewer and handed back the magazine again. "Here you go, Mrs. Brewer. Say hello to Mr. Brewer for me, and look after your health. Don't stand outside on your feet too long." 

Rolling her eyes, Pansy reattached herself to Hermione's arm, and said her own goodbye. Continuously watching them, the older witch really couldn't believe the stories that the wireless and newspapers were talking about. 

《——》

A disgruntled Padma Patil storms out of the square office after being reprimanded by her head. The Parkinson Family's legal team had marched in that very early afternoon with busy paperwork and complaints about her attempt at an illegal search with a fake ministry badge. The Corruption Office had even been threatened by them with audit inspections from the Finance Office if Padma Patil couldn't find proper probable cause for a search or arrest warrant on Hermione Granger. The Parkinson Family were already cooking up a huge lawsuit to fire back at the MLE after what 'unlawfully' happened to their Madam Granger in April and Padma accidentally gave them further reasoning to do so.

Head Clearwater had even warned Padma herself about not being able to nail Hermione Granger down in this case—

"This entire office has stepped on a dragon's tail—do you have any idea what dragon we have insulted by us taking this case? Let me tell you, it might be made of porcelain, but it can still breathe fire, Patil! Especially if you touch their damn princess!"

"..." Doesn't she mean the princess's consort? Her boss, Georgia Clearwater, really had a way with words.

Padma at the time didn't voice this correction, afraid she'd have a peacock quill slapped in her face. She only stood there with hands behind her back while holding back her annoyed expression of being scolded. 

"I had let you arrest Granger for the financial records—that failed! I've done this long enough to see there is a charge here, but I don't know if you're the officer to nail Granger in…and if I have that fucking kitchenware company coming to me again to complain about your incompetence, Patil, you're out. Capiche?"

Chiaro. Sure. Got it. Georgia isn't even Italian! She said that with the heaviest English accent. 

After putting most of the blame on an unpredictable journalist, Padma was only suspended for two days. Unfortunately, two days would give Hermione more than enough time in cleaning up any holes that she had with the questions Padma asked about the marriage. Rita, who had plans to write an article about a fraudulent marriage, was currently out of commission, as she was currently being interrogated on how she got ahold of a fake badge by Aurors. Like Knockturn Alley doesn't have 30% off sales to get rid of contraband daily.

The Granger Embezzlement case was considered the biggest case of Padma's career and it wasn't just the public and press with their eyes on it, her own coworkers were waiting for her to fail miserably so that they could snatch it up for themselves, despite Padma being the one who had opened the case against Hermione Granger in the first place. 

Paper planes flew overhead and self-writing typewriters continued tapping keys. The sound grinded her ears. It was another bustling Monday at the Corruption Office as usual. Hermione's case had not been the only one, there were three other open corruption cases, but those little officials never made the headlines and nobody cared about some guy named 'Ross From Archives' that was sending ministry documents with his little love notes to some witch in Bumfuck, Ohio in order to qualify for free owl postage through his work. Still being a serious security risk, because wasn't he clearly being hinkypunked? ( wizarding equivalent to being catfished )

Before Padma could escape without her nosy-coworkers asking about what happened with all nine of the Parkinson Family's legal team storming in here with briefcases and parchment, one guy still called Padma back,"Oi, Patil, you got an owl in while you were with Clearwater—it's on your desk."

Padma took a few steps back to her cubicle to find a letter waiting for her. After inspecting it for any curses, the officer picked up the envelope that had a wax emblem and tore it open. 

Inside was a small note written in red ink, the scrawling handwriting was small, but still visible just like all the ones before that she had been sent, 'I hope this helps…but, I would be quick. Granger does love sending others on such long holiday trips, doesn't she? You should ask about her parents some time.—M' 

Padma felt something else folded inside the envelope. She took out the Granger/Parkinson marriage license that back in April was shaken in her face, but now somehow ended up in her possession. 

The anonymous identity of 'M' always came back with empty results. So many first names and surnames that start with 'M's that Padma knew, but Padma only had a hunch, and she very much owed that 'M'. 

Her very first mysterious letter from 'M' had been sent a year prior, 'Remember. If not me, it could have been you.' The words had caused her to finally take action against Hermione Granger after all these years with the current strength she had. 

Padma was never the brave twin, that had always been her sister. Ever since they were children, Padma was always the one to hesitate, while causing Parvarti to boldly take action instead. It was Parvati who signed her name first on the D.A. list and then handed the quill over to Padma, as if she was expecting her sister to follow suit, and of course, Padma did.  

It took her ten seconds longer to sign her own name after her sister, but she did it. 

It wasn't really some club signup sheet either, it turned into a signup sheet to fight in the coming war. Padma had only been fifteen. She had regrets writing her name down months after sitting in front of Professor Umbridge with her twin sister beside her. 

Fifteen year old Padma had kept her eyes leveled on the sweet smelling tea. Her thoughts distracted by how Pretty-Pansy-Parkinson accidentally touched her hand for a mere half a second when serving it to her, and Padma kept itching at her own hand to wipe away the sensation. 

Padma at the time was already starting to realize why pretty girls made her act the same way Parvati gushed about boys. She admits there were a lot of factors that went into wanting to open her mouth and list all the names of the members; including what they got up to. 

Getting Pansy Parkinson to warm up to her was a very shallow reason, yet made perfect sense to the fifteen year old Padma Patil who kept fantasizing about Pansy's lychee lip gloss tasting better with a kiss than if Padma just applied it for herself. 

Putting aside her teenage hormones, there were also her mum's letters that had constantly warned her daughters not to trifle with Dolores Umbridge back then. 'Each stepping stone that woman stood on to get where she is has a name, you girls remember such things while she is at Hogwarts or I fear your dad might become one of those very stones.' 

Yes, Padma was also very afraid of her family being a stepping stone, as not even the innocent Professor Trewlawney was spared by that woman. 

The only reason that Padma didn't open her mouth at all? 

Parvati had already tossed her tea cup at a ducking Professor Umbridge with the excuse that she had become possessed by the tea itself and was losing her mind. It cut the interrogation short with Parvati getting a poor grade for her theatrics of falling 'dead' on the floor afterwards before being dragged out like a log by Millicent. 

The only laughter in the entire office had been Pansy while leaning her face into Daphne's shoulder to muffle the giggling. 

"Anything funny, Miss Parkinson?!" 

Pansy lied, creating waterworks just as quickly to save herself from the offended toad, "No—Patil splashed tea on my skirt—it burned my thigh, Professor!" 

When being escorted out herself, Padma saw a glimpse of dazzling skin with only a splotch of pink (a pinch more than any scalding tea) being exposed to the other witches in the room. 

The only reason Padma didn't open her mouth the second time when coming back alone in hopes to be served poorly made truth tea by Pansy Parkinson? 

Well, someone beat her to it. Mid-knock , Padma heard somebody behind Professor Umbridge's office door shriek when having watched Marietta's face suddenly become covered in pustules that spelled out R.A.T. on the forehead — Hermione Granger's 'beautiful' work. 

Marietta knew Padma had also been there that day to confess to everything. There was no other reason as to why Padma would have shown up in front of Umbridge's office. The Ravenclaw girl was in tears and with pus leaking from her face. A face that Padma once thought pretty was suddenly a monstrosity in her eyes! Not even Eloise's horrid acne could even compare. 

Marietta's mouth begged her fellow Ravenclaw to help with a counter spell. She stretched out Padma's clothes and fell to her knees in despair. The girl might have been screaming, but no sound could be heard. Hermione had even taken the girl's voice away. 

The scene before Padma became a nightmare for the rest of her life. She could do nothing to help, no matter how many spells that came to the forefront of her mind, the younger Ravenclaw could only look on in horror while thinking how that could have been herself disfigured. 

Unlike herself, Marietta had a proper good reason for what she did, because Padma would never be able to live it down if anyone found out why she planned to sell out the D.A. She had been absolutely delusional to even think that she could end up getting close to 'straight' Pansy Parkinson, and be able to taste the lychee gloss for herself. 

But, that is the point to be made there. They were just kids. Padma never had it in her teenage brain to think of the serious consequences of what would happen if she opened her mouth. Padma had plenty of reasons as to why it was a bad idea not to say anything. Professor Umbridge's punishments were far more terrifying than what she thought Hermione was ever capable of . 

At most, Parvati would have rolled her eyes at Padma and call her a bird brain. She'd eventually move on from it—their bond stronger than her sister's handsome boys and Padma's pretty girls or over some club...And Lavender would give her the cold shoulder for three weeks until she needed Padma to help her in Transfiguration. It has always been like that between the three of them. No matter what, they would eventually forgive each other. 

People would forget all about it after a few years of laughing at Padma for thinking a 'straight' and mean Slytherin girl would ever date her and even question the Sorting Hat's decision on making her Ravenclaw. 

But, none of them knew how sinister Hermione Granger could actually be. Of all the things that were said about Pansy Parkinson being a bully, had the Slytherin girl ever done such a thing?

Nobody forgot about what happened to Marietta. Hermione Granger made sure that even years later when somebody looked upon the disfigured face that Marietta Edgecombe was a 'RAT'. 

Padma used to think the Gryffindor trio were just some misfits, neither popular nor ignored. Besides being a celebrity, Harry was good at quidditch, but average with about everything else. Hermione was the smart one, but always seemed to have a chip on her shoulder. Ron was the funny one, but didn't try too hard; always in the shadows of his celebrity friend and smart ex-girlfriend. And, whenever there was trouble the trio was always in the thick of it, but always came out heroically. Everyone seemed to have this impression of them. 

Cho Chang called out the Gryffindor trio in front of the entire school for such an insidious act that Hermione committed, but Harry stood by it, even though his best mate should have been expelled. What was there even to be surprised about? The Gryffindor trio had learned that in the name of 'good' all was well, including dark magic. When Harry cut down Draco Malfoy in the bathroom in sixth year with dark magic, Albus Dumbledore did nothing then either. 

Had it been Draco Malfoy—expulsion, and sent to Azkaban for attempted murder. Had it been Pansy Parkinson—expulsion, and her wand snapped in half.

Ravenclaw had remembered what happened to their own, watched on as Slytherin was to be shunned by the rest, hated that Gryffindor stole Hufflepuff's glory—including knowing that Harry Potter came back, but Cedric Diggory died. Harry Potter always came back, but what of the children that didn't? 

Padma knew she couldn't blame Harry, yet there was a part of her that couldn't let it go.  So, instead, she blamed Hermione. Harry Potter's right hand protector. The true power behind the trio. For signing Padma up for war. For hurting Marietta. For being a self-righteous hypocrite. For tricking Pansy into being in love with her. Maybe there was some jealousy. Maybe Padma was at some fault too, but her heart refused to see that. For Padma Patil, she found her own bogeyman after the war and it was everyone's Golden Witch, the Brightest Witch of Her Age, Hermione Granger. 

Deeming herself righteous and loyal to the cause. In the name of Harry Potter. In the name of Albus Dumbledore. In the name of Hermione Granger. Righteousness? Hermione has only ever heard her own definition of it! When a powerful witch falls, another always rises in her place—and who do people compare Hermione Granger to today? 

It's never Madam Bones. It's always Bellatrix LeStrange. 

To this day Padma pities the ones that crossed Hermione, the ones scorned for being cowardly and the pawns that suffered or lost their own loved ones in the name of Harry Potter. It was no wonder why the bitter hatred still remained with all that they lost. Padma had willingly fought against the Death Eaters at only seventeen, and yet, she knows now what that had cost even herself. At least Harry made his apologies and admitted his wrongs in wanting to be a better and more responsible wizard for his own son, but Hermione has remained silent and refused to admit any wrong-doing; past or present. 

Padma looks back down at the marriage certificate. There was the signature of the muggle official that oversaw the marriage. She fanned the certificate in her hand while thinking further. But, how could Marietta even get a hold of personal financial records for Rita? Including this ? 

It wasn't Marietta asking for her fellow housemate to avenge her was it? It had to be someone much closer to Hermione and Pansy.

She glanced around wondering who knew she had been looking for this— had the person been listening to Catherine Almond's morning show and made this their next move? Padma had too many questions with not enough answers. She began sliding the folded marriage certificate inside her leather jacket's hidden pocket, and left the ministry without looking back. 

Chapter Text

Legs of a chair are forced to slide across hardwood floors and carpet. The sound is almost unbearable, yet the entire scene is a blur of yellow fabric in a tug-o-war between two witches using their magic to move the furniture. 

Left. Right. Up. Down. Diagonal. Horizontal. Vertical. 

Suddenly, there is a pause in fast paced motion and Hermione's hand boldly reaches out to stop the chair in the middle of the room. Silence, now. Hermione's curls are wild and even sparks fly off the ends. She is finally able to catch her breath once the chair completely stills. 

A set of blue summer clothes comes into view in front of her as though to not give up. Another hand that isn't her own, wearing a large diamond ring that sparkles with every movement it makes under the enchanted lights, steals the other arm of the chair just as quickly.

Hermione didn't have the patience to continue the fight over a chair. No , correction . She didn't have the patience to hold herself back from turning this ugly, and for her wife's sake and ego it was best to end this little dance without having it turn into destroyed furniture and hurt feelings. 

Hermione could have even prevented this tug-o-war the moment that first little whine of 'No, I don't want it there!' left the kitchenware princess's mouth. In some ways Hermione can still be a gentlewoman, especially for those she cares about, and that includes trying to be nice with Pansy who is supposed to be her wife. 

But, Merlin, did Pansy give me one hell of a time with what she had—her creative usage of non aggressive spells should not be underestimated and I still taste a bit of lemon soap in my teeth. 

"Parkinson." Hermione squinted with a deadly look in her eye. 

Her hands continued to grip the one arm of her yellow mustard chair while Pansy held tightly to the other.

"Granger..." Pansy carried a cautious tone as she spoke to her 'darling' wife that looked ready to pounce on her if she ever tried to make the chair budge, again . 

Hermione was not messing around.

The enchanted portraits in the room had been watching the standoff between the witches the moment it started. Their acrylic eyes had darted back and forth, waiting for the end of this 'duel', and now it was as if they were still holding their breaths— what breath when they don't even have painted lungs?

While the portraits, both the silent and obnoxious , should have had some confidence when betting on their own descendant winning, the family of both sides didn't have high expectations for Pansy to start off with. Insulting as it sounds coming from her own bloodline, the kitchenware heiress just didn't have the same level of dueling skill or aggression in magic like Hermione Granger did. 

So, it came as a bit of a surprise to them that the brilliant witch was being gentle with her 'dear' wife. It was even more of a blessing that there was really nothing that a bunch of paintings could make bets with anyways to lose out on and if either witch knew there were even bets to be placed, it would not be pretty for the portraits. 

Pansy is still trying to win Hermione over and said, "It would look better in the sunroom. You get lots of lighting during the day, and wouldn't it be a great place to read," The smile on her pretty face was strained with what she said next. "...all the time."

Because Pansy was trying to sell the sunroom to her, Hermione could tell by the stiff response that the pretty witch had to hold back her little habit of adding a negative when praising the sunroom. 

All the time?! I know very well that on hot days it turns into a sauna without cooling charms, Parkinson! Even if those days are rare, you want me cooked! 

So, Hermione didn't want to hear it and continued, "I want it by the fireplace."  

It was a dual fireplace that would warm two rooms at the same time and without the fire, looking through the small square hole, you can see straight through either room. One open side was the sitting parlour they were currently in that both occasionally dubbed their 'lounge' as it had Pansy's lounge chairs and the other side was the room for seating Pansy's unwanted guests and apparently Narcissa Malfoy. A day which will never happen in Hermione's lifetime. The location of the fireplace was the best for inviting friends or visitors using the floo in Hermione's opinion, it just wasn't the best for private floo calls, which was the only downside. She only thinks of that now, because Pansy was the one that already pointed out the flaws of its placement when doing the house tour back in April. 

"It's the middle of summer!" Pansy snapped in frustration, perhaps even accidentally revealing the truth about the sunroom during the unbearable hot days of summer. 

Her nails pressed into the fabric of the arm when she spoke, and Hermione wondered if the witch wanted to dig them into her own flesh at that moment. 

Which wouldn't be unwanted… A shiver of arousal suddenly went through Hermione's back just thinking about how those same silver manicured nails, that were neither sharp nor short, made crescents into her skin at her flat earlier. 

Hermione has never had such …um, interests before when involving a woman's nails, but the moment she felt that possessiveness from Pansy, it was all over for Hermione, and she just suddenly had to kiss Pansy Parkinson flat on her floor without any way to stop. The pretty witch didn't seem to mind at the time either. Which, thankfully, had saved Hermione from feeling any embarrassment about the possibility of being rejected for those actions.

But, Pansy didn't seem to bring up their snogging or any other type of kiss since then.

With that memory from earlier, Hermione's brain suddenly interrupted with the dumbest idea when her eyes left the silver nails and up to the pretty pink lipstick. Kiss her again— No! What in Merlin's name is wrong with me? I kissed Parkinson once and I suddenly want to do it all over again? Yes. Hermione remembers it having an enticingly sweet fragrance — Absolutely not! Hermione was exasperated with her thoughts. We're fighting right now, brain, we're not going to make out! 

Hermione's throat rolled and she pushed those thoughts down as quickly as possible. She hoped Pansy didn't notice the hungry gaze she just had for her. She wasn't going to be like Blaise Zabini. 

Recovering with words, Hermione says, "Yes, and you know very well that I'll end up cooking in the sunroom, Pansy," She grits her teeth now with every word, "With. It. Being. The. Middle. Of. Summer." 

She could easily cast a cooling charm to fight off the heat, yes , but even Hermione didn't want to deal with that while only trying to relax with a good book.  

Hermione then explains her own reasoning why the lounge was the better option,"At least with the fireplace it doesn't need to be lit, and I'll even be closer to floo calls when they come through." 

Pansy tried again, though her voice sounded a little weaker, "Um…but, you can open the doors for airflow…right?" 

Hermione's lips twitched, "I don't want to. I want to read here. In this room, and you're not allowed to move it. If you do, you'll regret moving it…Do you understand?"

She isn't yet sure of what kind of threat that should be, but Hermione was hoping that by bluffing Pansy with her reputation it wouldn't matter. 

Pansy tries not to be intimidated. She leans her figure slightly over the chair's arm and seat to get closer to Hermione's face. There was that charming hook that formed up from those pink lips, and the proud heiress was soon replaced by an alluring vixen. 

Hermione cautiously leaned back knowing Pansy must be thinking up something bad here in order to win her over— most likely steal my heart and eat it! 

"Let's say…I didn't understand…" Pansy's words trailed off, leaving with an unspoken challenge, 'What are you going to do about it, Granger?'

Long eyelashes flutter over starry green eyes, and with Pansy being close enough now, Hermione was able to take in those constellations that told a story she could not yet read, beside knowing how enchanting they could be.

With such flirtations from a known vixen, this was obviously a stunt that was supposed to entice Hermione. One side of her brain was ready to happily fall into the honey pot no matter the trap, while her more logical side knew better than to jump in and lose herself to Pansy Parkinson, again . 

And, thank Rowena , the logical side of Hermione's brain won— at least for now! She took a deep breath to calm her own heart. No, Hermione won't take the bait. She reminds herself that this isn't really a vixen, but a pink shrimp and that underneath those clothes, Pansy is blushing worse than her right now. 

Do not give in! Do not surrender!

"That won't work on me, Parkinson."

Pansy suddenly pretends to be confused, "What doesn't work?" Her eyes brightened a second after with an idea, proving the confusion was fake and that those gears were turning, 

"How about this, Granger…" Her hands start to slowly slide away from the arm of the chair,"We play a little game—"

"No, we're almost thirty…" Hermione deadpanned. 

It had nothing to actually do with age. That was an excuse. Hermione just wanted to stop the next round of torture where Pansy attempts at winning with her set of seduction skills. Pansy could dominate an entire Slytherin House, but not me! 

She couldn't even guess what game it would even be— trivia? I could do that one. But no, Pansy wouldn't give her something so easy. And, it definitely wouldn't be quidditch, they would both embarrass themselves with having zero interest in the sport— any sport for that matter, besides the social aspect of cheering with friends.

Insulted, the twenty-seven year old witch sneered at the boring old witch in front of her, " You're almost thirty, not me!" 

But, Pansy pretended she didn't just snap at Hermione about age, Pansy lightly cleared her throat, and returned to being a seductress, proving once again that it was all an act.

Hermione fights down an eye roll. With being almost twenty-eight come this September, she'll obviously turn thirty before Pansy, but the pretty witch won't be far behind her when that day comes, especially when Pansy is really only six months younger than her, being born in February the following year after her. 

Well, at least I know one personal thing about Pansy. Her birthday. Which...still...kind of sad, because even though we were 'newlyweds', I never gifted her anything, unless alcoholic beverages over the weekend count. Somebody somewhere will say it counts, but I wasn't even there. I just left a tab open for her. 

A bit worn out with being on her feet, Hermione takes a seat on the yellow chair that was between them. With her in it, this chair will stay exactly where it is! But, Hermione sitting down in the yellow chair doesn't stop Pansy from hovering over her though.

Pansy repeated for a second time,"Come on, 'Mione. Let's just play a game." 

Hermione noticed the woman was still affectionately using her nickname. 

Being on Hermione's right side most likely felt dangerous for Pansy, given what arm it was , so Pansy slinks around behind the chair. Her hand glides slowly over the back, until finally, Pansy clasps around Hermione's left bicep. With continuing her plans to seduce Hermione, Pansy pressed her weight, her breasts, really…since that was where most of the weight came from if not elsewhere , into Hermione's arm and side. "Let's get closer to each other…"

"..."

You are close enough, Pansy! What do you take me for? A straight man? Don't think this will work on me— the warmth of Pansy's breath suddenly tickles against her sensitive earlobe and it recharges the other side of Hermione's brain that absolutely wanted this and absolutely imagined every scenario that would lead to her taking clothes off. Oh, Godric…Okay, well, I'm not a straight woman…so this tactic does unfortunately work on me!  

When Pansy hangs off her in public she didn't used to think too much about it, but after their small agreement and kissing earlier, it's become much harder to remind her brain not to get caught up in Pansy Parkinson's pretty face and charming attributes. 

She doesn't actually like me, brain! Do not fall for it! Hermione continuously tries to tell herself not to surrender, but she already starts thinking about letting Pansy play this little game. 

"What's the game exactly?" She turned her head to the vixen with some helplessness. Hermione's heart should be scolded more than her brain though, because it too started to react to Pansy's close contact; excitedly crashing about when staring into those enchanting constellations.

As the pretty witch's charming smile started to grow into a mischievous grin, Hermione can just imagine a fluffy fox tail swishing behind Pansy, the vixen clearly thinking up all her bad ideas. 

The power here has definitely shifted between us now…I might be better at magic, but an attractive woman really is its own magic…

"How about this…" Pansy starts to explain. "If you can catch me, I won't touch your precious chair, but…" 

Pansy's warm palms can't help but caress Hermione's tan arm as she slowly says each word with a heart stealing tone and hot breath against her sensitive ears. Hermione  quietly eyes the movement of the witch's nails gently grazing down her forearm, and it makes her shiver again. The vixen's thumb rubs over the joints of Hermione's wrist and then her fingers brush playfully over the  tightly gripped knuckles. The knuckles began to burn white from the fight within Hermione as colorful spring images blurred through her mind of where she would actually like Pansy's hot breath to be. 

"...if you can't catch me in under five minutes…" 

The internal conflict between her logical side and her rebellious side breaks and crashes through those images of Pansy's flushed skin from the bath and from her flat suddenly. No, you don't want that! But, I do— She began to continuously lie, I don't! I don't! I don't! Hermione was now regretting not having handled herself last night in the shower after all. She would be so much stronger against Pansy's attacks. 

The delicate hands of Pansy Parkinson are very focused now on prying Hermione's fingers from the chair, but the brilliant witch could only continue holding on for dear life, and ignore the soft, creamy and smooth palms that radiate heat. Hermione keeps her eyes and thoughts from wandering, and only stares down at Pansy's sparkly wedding ring.

Then suddenly Pansy's tone shifts to cold and her hands paused flat on top of Hermione's own. The fingers curl tight between her own as if it's her turn now to threaten Hermione, "...the ugly ass chair goes where I say it goes even if that means you cook in the sun room!"

Pansy's switch in attitude saves Hermione and wakes her up from being bewitched, "Oh," Her voice sounds slightly hoarse and dry though, "Then I don't want to play that kind of game."

A bubbly laugh escapes Pansy, breaking her serious and threatening demeanor again, she teases now and it continuously heats up Hermione's earlobes, "Bad back, Granger?" 

With gritted teeth, and keeping back the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione had to remind. even though she didn't actually have a bad back at all, "Well, I am the only one that is almost thirty…"

Pansy huffs this time with how her words came back to sabotage her plans. "You're not there yet …okay?" It was a very , very small apology that didn't even have the word 'sorry ' in it, before reverting back to her usual tone, "Come on, don't be such a bore!"

She wasn't a bore, thank you very much, Hermione just doesn't know how much patience she had left in her after trying to resist Pansy seducing her. Not to mention such a game with zero foundation was bound to have Pansy change the rules mid-game or push the limits of Hermione's own patience. 

It won't just stick with ' You must catch me in five minutes ' it'll become a ' That didn't count! We were doing a practice run! ' or 'I should always get a ten second head start! Why? Because I'm younger, because I'm pretty, because I'm your wife, because…ect.!' or a more dramatic approach of falling into the floor with a cry of fake tears, 'Time out! I sprained my ankle! I can't go on! I might die! Spare me!'

My wife is an absolute headache!

Hermione suspiciously asks then, "No tricks? No changing the rules?"

Her 'dear' and 'innocent' wife's pressed further into her, and she engulfed that berry scent of Pansy's. Hermione liked the feeling of the witch plastered to her, and the warm skin-to-skin contact between the two. If she thought she broke from the vixen's spell she was wrong, because Hermione didn't want to roll her shoulders or shake Pansy off. 

Pansy tries again right up in Hermione's ear, her lips pressing up against the cartilage again, "It's just five minutes, darling …"

'Darling ' drawls softly in Hermione's hot ears. Did Pansy already find out that Hermione's ears were sensitive?

It was suddenly like there was thick molasses in Hermione's brain, and she was stuck on thinking about Pansy Parkinson, wanting Pansy Parkinson and needing Pansy Parkinson.

With all the times Hermione witnessed Pansy flirting with other witches in Moonvine and having secretly wished that was herself, to earlier when kissing Pansy and having the pretty witch underneath her turning that lovely shade of pink, that jolt of nerves when their tongues touched and pressed, of hearing her moans, and falling straight in—

No! 

With one witch sitting and the other standing, the two were close enough to where Hermione could actually just pull Pansy straight into her lap and lock her easily in place to kiss her—

Again, stop. Hermione felt exhausted with having to fight herself out of being captured by Pansy's charms. Do I think I have a real chance with Pansy Parkinson? Dream on! She's just trying to get a win here! It's a win-win! No.

Hermione was stuck having to remember who she was: Hermione Granger. And, who the witch beside her was: Pansy Parkinson. And, the unfortunate reminder that Hermione could never be Millicent Bulstrode. Knowing who Pansy actually wanted, needed and constantly thought about, instantly wakes Hermione up. 

It's a bitter wake up call, but it worked. Should work...at least. 

Pansy was ignorant to Hermione's sudden internal conflict, but noticed how quiet the bright witch had become, "Are you okay?" 

Hermione bites down on her tongue, before finally saying, "You need to swear by it." Was it giving in a little bit?

"Okay. Fine. I swear by Morgana—"

Hermione was quick to cut Pansy off, knowing there must be fingers crossed somewhere. "No offense to Morgana, but you swear way too much on a 1,000 year old dead sorceress for me to take you seriously." 

"Hey, that's rude!" Pansy pouts, and slinks further over Hermione like she was boneless, as if it was herself that couldn't get enough of Hermione.  "Okay, I swear by my collection of Morgana Chocolate Frog trading cards. It's physical, it has value, and it's a secret collection—nobody else knows I still have it, so you can even use it to extort me."

Hearing that, Hermione snorts. Trading cards? Who swears on their trading cards, unless they're like, twelve? Now she definitely can't take Pansy seriously! 

She knew that a few adults continued collecting them as an excuse that they were 'worth' something, likely equivalent to the muggle's trend about Beanie Babies, but Pansy was honestly a surprise to still be collecting them! There was zero value in Hermione's opinion. Sure, it was a secret and it was a physical object, but Hermione didn't care to actually hold it over Pansy's head—and she has a feeling Pansy knew that by even letting Hermione 'extort' her for it. 

Hermione had tried to collect trading cards back when she was eleven after they were first introduced to her by other classmates. Ron had been kind enough to give Harry and Hermione a decent start to a card collection by giving them his dupes, but unlike Harry, she personally never got the appeal of collecting cards as a kid. There was no other usefulness besides the novelty of having them and selling chocolate. Just cards with little snippets of info underneath the portraits with no other usage. Hermione never really bought the sweets often enough to keep up with any 'series' that the chocolate company would promote either. At this point, the cards she had were likely collecting dust somewhere in the Weasley's attic with the Ghoul.

But, a question that she did want to ask Pansy, "Why do you have a collection of solely Morgana duplicates?" It had to be dupes, because Hermione didn't think there could be many specialty cards of the ancient sorceress otherwise to even call it a 'collection'. 

Pansy moves her weight from Hermione and the spot she left suddenly felt a little dull and empty. 

The heiress proudly exclaims with her chin raised, "Not all dupes, I even collect her special limited edition cards. I even have her '93 limited edition that came with a poster size version of the card. There were only 100 posters made, so that card itself is worth some money. If I'm into selling that is."  Which Pansy was not. 

"That still doesn't answer my question."

"Well…" Pansy now sounds a bit unsure in actually wanting to answer Hermione, "You've seen her cards. They're a work of art." I swear if you bring up her— "But, the chocolate company had to censor her most popular painting with a high collar, but even then you can still tell that she could fill out her dress. Also,"

I'm very well aware that 'Morgana's tits' are more than a vulgar expression…

They might be just in name only, but Hermione suddenly feels slightly offended. First Millicent. Now, even competing with Morgana le Fay?

Smart? Check.

Talented? Check.

Hogwart Alumni? Check.

Famous? Check.

Chocolate Frog card? Check.

Hermione couldn't help but stare down at her own chest, while her brain had to dumbly comment, Not a flat runway, but that one can't be beat—No, not what Hermione needs to be focused on right now! 

Begrudgingly, Hermione had to cut Pansy off by talking about an ancient witch in front of her, "Okay, nevermind. I don't really want to hear about your awakening with Morgana Le Fay trading cards…"

Pansy rolls her eyes now, though a hint of pink is noticeable from her collar, "One, what freak gets off on trading cards? You didn't even let me finish! I just admire her for all achievements—even the ones that Merlin stole from her, and spun it around by saying she seduced him," Okay, conspiracy theorist, " And second, there wasn't any awakening with her, Granger! Don't get jealous just because I don't collect your trading card."

"…" Let you finish? You were about to ramble on about your little crush on a dark sorceress that has been dead for 1,000 years and I would have to stop you on your belief that Merlin was the one that stole her ideas when there are writings and historical texts that say otherwise!

If Hermione actually believed herself petty over who collects her trading card or not, she'd tell Pansy right then and there that the witch shares a hobby with Ron and watch as Pansy denounce her entire collection of chocolate frog cards and never speak about it again. 

She was tempted, but she didn't. Hermione wasn't that jealous. 

Instead, Hermione chooses to ignore her wife's remark, "Are you really wanting to talk about your obsession with an ancient sorceress, or play this stupid game?" 

Forget a woman's hyper fixation on trading cards that have artwork of a hot witch, Hermione wasn't going to be distracted by the nonsense that Pansy was talking about! Like a wolf that was ready to pounce, Hermione was already internally calculating the chance to make her own move before Pansy would be able to. It would be finished with one sweep. 

"Play the game..." 

Pansy was about to make the slip when answering, but Hermione's reflexes were much quicker than a pampered heiress. Hermione bolted just an inch up from the chair and snatched Pansy's waist before it could disappear from sight. 

Hermione quickly dragged the now stunned witch straight into her on the chair. The other witch was a bit upset, but she didn't seem to mind as much as she was complaining. Her body readjusted on Hermione's lap into a more comfortable position of sitting side-ways, and scrunching up her pretty features while shouting foul at Hermione. 

"No! This doesn't count, Granger! It was just a practice run, I should be allowed a restart."

And, there it is!

The sunlight broke from the flowing curtains and shone over the two of them. Carrying with it a warmth that spread over their skin and brought color to the room. The charming scent of jasmine and berries enveloped Hermione. Brown eyes instantly flashed to amber with the light. 

In good humor now after having won, Hermione states, "Who just swore on her collection of trading cards that she wouldn't change the rules?"

Turning bright pink at being forced to remember something that was only seconds ago, Pansy hisses back, "It doesn't count!"

Hermione interjects, "It does, Pansy!"

The fraudulent couple's bickering filled up the manor while the the acrylic paintings secretly wished the witches would stop constantly 'fighting' and 'flirting' in front of them, but it didn't last long to the unseriousness of the situation, and Hermione burst out with laughter. She felt a warmth in her chest from the ridiculousness, something she had not felt in a long time with those that weren't her two best friends, and soon another set of laughter followed along. Pansy's straight inky black hair had long removed the golden clip, and it all fell back onto her shoulders without any mess. It had such a healthy shine that Hermione felt the urge to reach out and run her fingers through it, but she kept herself from doing such an intimate thing. 

With Hermione thinking of such things, she doesn't pay attention to how close Pansy's face has already zoomed into her own. It was only when she suddenly felt soft plush lips pressed against her own lips. The stamp was light, it wasn't fiery or aggressive, but gentle and sweet. 

Hermione's brain and sense of control instantly breaks down, and she wants to reciprocate the sudden kiss—

Pansy pulls back with some disgust at Hermione, "Lemon?"

A bit embarrassed, but knowing the source of where the leftover lemon scent actually came from, Hermione glares back, "Don't remember your own soap spell?"

Pansy huffs with her eyebrows still knitted together at being blamed, but then leans forward again into Hermione. 

"Just so you know, this kiss was for the ugly chair's lodging payment…"

"Honestly…" Hermione muttered under her breath after hearing the excuse. "That's cheap."

The vixen instantly returned, a hand smoothing out any wrinkle to Hermione's shirt, "You're right. We should raise the price~"

The two were circling back to this teasing that would lead to nowhere.

Hermione shoved Pansy off her lap with an insufferable sigh then. "Don't. I know you're pink as a prawn right now, Parkinson."

≪—≫

After finishing setting everything up and moving Hermione's furniture around, their Monday began to melt into the evening. At the insistence of Pansy's reminder about a possible interview with Lavender, Hermione wrote several more letters to keep Gracie busy for the next few days. 

It would most likely be a few business days before she would actually hear back from Lavender anyways. She wasn't sure if her old housemate turned journalist was busy with any other big projects. It had actually been some time since Hermione had last spoken to Lavender personally. It was always through a friend's mouth or catching Lavender's name in print somewhere, or when Hermione was less busy, then she would hear the familiar voice on some wireless show in passing. 

With their publicists Veronica and Chelsea helping, along with Pansy's manager being on board with it, other middlemen would be involved to make the necessary arrangements and possible incentives instead in order to officially get the interview with Lavender greenlit and going, so Hermione was free to worry about other matters.

The Parkinson legal team interrupted Hermione's letter writing with a floo call. She accepted and answered. In the last few years, floo had taken a jump into becoming a popular choice for communication in the magical world—as long as both fireplaces were connected, it was quick to make a call to friends or family, at least. It was certainly a lot more convenient in not having to write another letter to them.

The team was crowded around inside the frame of the dual fireplace by bright green flames. The lead solicitor, Mr. Belby, who was Parkinson's most trusted solicitor, explained the current situation with the Corruption Office after what happened this morning. 

The office was forced to sort through a bunch of useless paperwork as a punishment, and Padma was even suspended for two days—it would have been more, but the officer was able to put most of the blame on Rita. Two days and some paperwork would stall the investigation, at least until Thursday, but there were more concerning questions about Hermione's and Pansy's marriage license now from even the public.

There were already more and more newspapers and wireless shows discussing the possibility of it being a fraudulent marriage. The media and press were just more cautious with their words after what happened to Catherine. Saying things such as, 'So, the conspiracy going around…' and 'This is just my opinion, folks,' or 'Don't get me wrong— this is just what Catherine is saying,"

It was now even more urgent to keep up appearances and do the interview with Lavender Brown.

"Is there anything more that we should be aware of while moving forward, considering the current rise in doubt about your marriage, Madam Granger?"

Hermione's back is straight while sitting in the mustard chair in front of the fireplace, focusing on the fire framed image of the Parkinson Family's legal team, his few partners surrounding him in their business suits and robes. 

It was always in one's best interest to answer their legal team honestly, especially in order for them to be able to defend or refute anything from the plaintiff if thrown back at them with indisputable evidence. The Corruption Office wouldn't be able to surprise them with anything if Hermione is forced to stand on trial in front of the Wizengamot for her alleged crimes.

Unfortunately, there was one thing Hermione really didn't want to bring up to them.

Pansy was sitting in her usual lounge chair that didn't match the mustard chair Hermione was in. She leaned casually back with both legs and arms crossed and hugged a throw pillow. She already changed into comfortable evening wear, a beige loose silk slip with a matching house robe. A white fluffy house slipper was dangling from her raised foot. 

The two make eye contact, but the pretty witch only makes a subtle shake of her head to Hermione, before turning back the group herself. 

"It was just the normal stuff when having to interact with the muggles without paperwork…" Pansy then looks back to her wife with a raised eyebrow. "Right, 'Mione?"

With such an exchange, Hermione could read everything on that pretty face.

Confundus Charm Only. Maybe Hermione could get away with a memory charm by using the excuse that things went poorly with the muggle. Very normal. Maybe slightly illegal, but not anything her legal team can't handle. Everyone knows Confundus doesn't always stick or last long—sometimes memory charms are necessary! Oh, but certainly NOT an Unforgivable! Hermione and Pansy might have allegedly embezzled ministry money, dealt with bribes between each other, and falsely married in order to get out of that, but they would never, ever, ever under any circumstance, do such a horrid thing! How could Hermione Granger use dark magic when her own wife is just one caution tag away from being taken in by Aurors? If they ever did go to such an extreme they might as well say goodbye to their lives, and become actual roommates with Lucius Malfoy and Nott Sr…but, again, certainly no Unforgivables in the making of their crimes! 

Yeah, so it seemed Pansy didn't want Hermione revealing such a big thing to her family's legal team either…

Hermione cautiously glances away and squeezes her armrests tightly.

She could tell Pansy's legal team about breaking and entering, casting unauthorized memory charms, using magic against an unsuspecting muggle, suppressing, tampering and obstruction… But, I can't disclose that I ever used an Unforgivable! 

Fragments of that night appeared in Hermione's mind then. She remembered how she dragged the muggle from his bed in the middle of the night, his wife was still sleeping peacefully, not knowing that her husband had a 'stick' pointed at him. Hermione had hissed under her breath with ill intentions and with all purpose of stealing the man's will and controlling him—the man who had thought he was being robbed in the night, had his hand protectively over his wife's shoulder, but the moment he was Imperius, the fear in his eyes slipped away behind those dark irises, and there was nothing left but a glassy eyed nothingness. His hand had remained in the exact same position, before it too curled back to his own side.

Hermione's actions that January night had been on autopilot, and the only thoughts she had at the time were:

I have to do this. It has to be this way. This is the only way to get out of bribery allegations. This is the only way to save my career. One step at a time. One law at a time. One elf at a time. One creature at a time. One wizard at a time. The same thing I told myself when I had been shadowbanned—the reason this is where I am at now. I can't let my fifteen year old self down! The one who only ever witnessed corrupt and incompetent ministry officials and the injustice that they allowed, who witnessed the cruelty of Winky and Dobby and the unfair trial of Buckbeak, who spent two days on a 'hunger strike'. The one who founded S.P.E.W, who knitted hats and sweaters into midnight, who made those pins by hand and gave them out for free, because no body wanted to contribute a single sickle themselves for her little 'silly' cause. It was NOT silly, it is standing up for what is right!

Of course, never in a million years would a young Hermione think of becoming the future wife of Pansy Parkinson in order to help her get out of her bribery allegations and fund her project.

All while those were the thoughts in her head, Hermione had politely helped the poor Imperiused muggle into his little housecoat and slippers so that they could meet with Pansy downstairs who was dogsitting the family's new addition, which was a little curious dachshund puppy. Impossible to read Pansy's internal thoughts at the time, but those starry green eyes didn't ever seem to bat an eye to Hermione's actions. 

A Pansy that sat in the tub from her memories answered for that night, "... I know that others are afraid of you, and say all sorts of things about you now, but all I can think is the reason behind every bad thing you've ever done, and…well, the reasons have turned out better than most, right?"

A Hermione from last night had wanted reassurance for all her actions: "Is it?"

Is it better than most?

"It is …if you deem it's right, then I'm with you... even when others call me a fool for siding with you…because, you're far more capable than any of them could ever be…"

It was all the reassurance that Hermione Granger needed now, and she had to protect Pansy who was following her into this mess as well.

If the legal team knew the truth of what she did, it would be harder for them to even represent her—Hermione Granger. She was very aware of how much Pansy had put on the line for her, and she couldn't ruin it or her own chances of getting out of this scratch free. 

Thankfully, as far as Hermione was aware, it couldn't easily be proven that she ever actually cast that spell. If that was the case, there would have been several Death Eaters sent to Azkaban in the first wizarding war. 

As long as Padma can't crack my altered memories that is…

Hermione replied to the floo call now with that politician's smile that she loathes so much, "Right, besides having to use a few spells in order to get married, there is nothing else of importance that will ever find its way into a courtroom."

Pansy relaxed into her chair again after hearing Hermione. 

Wanting to push that aside, Hermione starts asking for news about the pending warrant. 

"Since there hasn't been any more probable cause to search personal property, we've been told by Corruption Head Clearwater that it should fall through by tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay, what do you think about there being any future ones? Anything we should do?" 

Hermione moved her furniture in, but she would still rather not have to deal with Padma searching through her home. 

The lead solicitor frowns, "Well, Patil can still continue to file for a search warrant as many times as she likes until the MLE officially approves one, but," He sits a little taller in his chair looking rather proud, "Trust that we can duel it out with her office for the rest of the year and furthermore, as we said, the Corruption office doesn't have anything to pin on you to search your private residencies…all they have is Patil's conspiracies. Until they do, as far as I'm concerned we only need to proceed in filing claims against the MLE for false arrest and for easy libel—if that is what you so choose after this is done, and I recommend that you do! Getting the ministry to pay up for all the damage that was caused is easy enough…over a 500K settlement should make them think twice from trying the Parkinson Company again. Now, I know that number doesn't seem big..."

It seemed big to Hermione!

Mr. Belby prided himself, " But, I'm confident to say, that if we were dealing with a third party, and not a government entity, we could get over 2.5 Billion from the damage that has been done in persecuting you, Madam Granger." 

Even if there wasn't any protection in place for governmental entities the Ministry couldn't ever afford that with their revenue! Is 2.5 billion even the estimated amount that the Parkinson Company lost from just being associated with me or is this guy just saying that!? That doesn't even equal the value that the Corruption Office believes I 'stole' from the ministry. I'm still getting paid suspension. I'm not personally losing anything of monetary value besides public reputation, which would normally only be at least a six figure damage deal, given my celebrity status and while Pansy most likely hasn't been given a whole lot of work at this time—it couldn't be over 2.5 Billion Galleons in loss! 

It's fine to talk about winning a case, but the confidence involving a high monetary settlement that the two would never get to start with caused Hermione to suddenly doubt Mr. Belby. While Parkinson's legal team was powerful, their actions have currently only been dilatory tactics stalling the legal proceedings and investigation. She hasn't seen anything over the top, besides having intimidating numbers. Hermione didn't want underestimate Padma while overestimating the legal team. The witch had been adamant in telling Hermione she would get a search warrant approved, and Hermione couldn't sit idle with that. If the officer was able to start looking outside the ministry or be handed more information, it could all go downhill from there. 

The one pillar that held Hermione's current innocence could end up being toppled by anyone. Further proving that Hermione and Pansy had to make an effort and get themselves an interview with Lavender Brown. 

"While I like your confidence," Hermione picks at the mustard fabric and her forehead wrinkled, "...if it comes to her getting one approved then I have conditions I want laid out with the office. I want to be informed ahead of time and for us to be on scene for all properties she'll have access to search. Surely, we can make that happen…we should be the ones in charge here now after what Padma did."

Normally, people didn't get conditions with their warrants, but the Parkinson legal team shouldn't be all talk. They should at least be able to pull this off. 

Pansy suddenly sits up a little straight in her lounge chair now at Hermione's words, "Right, like my wife says, don't talk big, Mr. Belby, unless you can really handle all angles, even the bad."

The witch uncrosses her arms from the throw pillow and both house slippers hit the floor, "We're talking about Padma who arrested Hermione back in April over a freaking unpublished Rita article and some bank statements Padma shouldn't have had in the first place…"

The legal team in the green flames suddenly looked a little embarrassed. It sounded like Pansy was blaming them for that situation when none of them knew Pansy had even been married to Hermione Granger at the time. Had that been the case, Hermione would not have ever set foot at the ministry four in the morning. None of them had the spine to say anything in front of their kitchenware heiress when she scolds them like this though. The team could face and battle many powerful entities and individuals at work, but the favoured granddaughter of Boromir Parkinson was not someone they were allowed to ever provoke. She was the rumored successor to the Parkinson Company and nothing was allowed to happen to her!

Pansy continued on, "Much like Hermione, I especially don't want Padma to somehow serve us a warrant in public ." Then the pretty witch cast her green eyes coldly over the well-dressed wizards on the other side of the fire and complained to them, "I swear to Morgana, if Padma even makes an appearance to serve us a warrant at Hogwarts this upcoming Thursday night…" 

The pretty witch must be talking about the tuition charity event for promising orphans and lower income wizarding families that would take place Thursday. Hermione always attended along with Harry and Ron every year, but this would be the first going with Pansy and having a shared donation in her name. With all elites, officials, journalists, and alumni attending the same charity event, it would likely be the best time for the Corruption Office to embarrass a corrupt official in front of all their colleagues and friends by serving them a warrant after donating large sums of money or buying out the auction—though the Hogwarts charity event was more of a summer feast in consideration to those that have contributed to the charity and the amounts donated were never announced publicly. 

"Well, I shouldn't have to say. I'm sure my grandfather made it very clear how Hermione's legal trouble is a top priority in our family, Mr. Belby. So, I hope you can take care of this type of matter before it ever reaches us…and not embarrass me in front of my own wife after I have just praised you before."

Pansy's appearance wasn't very intimidating at this moment, at least not to Hermione, as her wife was merely a soft kitten with dull claws compared to someone like herself, but Pansy's words were enough to make the entire legal team stand a little straight and swallow nervously. The group eye their team leader to be able to defend them from this upset kitten that just started hissing at them, because her wife suddenly had doubts about their skills. 

Mr. Belby cleared his throat, and tried to reassure, "Listen, even if she somehow scrambles something together by Thursday evening and has it approved that very night… which is impossible, no one will even be at the ministry to even approve it…"

Hermione doesn't know enough about Padma's own connections at the ministry. 

A hurried secretary pushed through the crowded room then and carried parchment with him. Apologetically, the secretary placed it in front of Mr. Belby. The wizard could only pause in his speech to scan over the parchment for a second before swiftly using his quill to sign his signature on the documents. He continued speaking again,

"…Rest assure, Madam and Mrs. Granger, Patil won't be able to serve you a warrant at any public function. Not on our watch. We have their tails now with that stunt this morning. It wasn't just a two day suspension with Patil. Head Cleatwater is now afraid of her office being audited and restructured by the ministry with the Aurors knocking on her office doors—seriously. I'm sure you're aware of this matter personally, Madam, but the Aurors have been sensitive about fake badges running around for about two years now. Unlike their basement dweller counterparts. I bet you, Auror Potter won't just let any of it slide now that an MLE office was aware of a particular individual owning one and trying to use it against you." Mr. Belby shook his salt-peppered head while looking down at the paperwork, though more for what he said rather than what was written. 

Eventually dotting his I's and crossing his T's—if he even had any in his name , Mr. Belby made eye contact with Hermione and Pansy once again through the green flames, and handed off the documents to his secretary as he did, "We're going to be using that same push to threaten the office, along with the huge lawsuit we've already been threatening them with. With that fear for them being investigated, the communication with them will always go through us first now. Everything they plan to do—be it arresting, searching or questioning as to go through your legal team. Including being present if Patil gets a warrant to search any of your residencies. No more surprised visits by Patil again, and if she confronts either of you for such matters without your legal representative present, Head Clearwater made it very clear that incompetent officer will be dismissed from the case."

Pansy starts to like what she was hearing from her grandfather's legal team, "Good. We want them to be afraid of us, not the other way around."

"Yes," Mr. Belby bobbles his head, "As long as we have nothing that they can just wipe us across the floor with—be it any dark magic, I'd say we have this brewing nicely in the cauldron for us, and Madam Granger will walk free with a little more money in the pocket."

The acid in Hermione's stomach shifts uncomfortably suddenly. Yes, as long as there is nothing questionable that Padma can find... like dark magic...  

Eventually the floo call ended and the fire snuffed out.

Still feeling a bit anxious, Hermione felt that by double checking, she could make it less uncomfortable, also a chance to even sleep better at night.

Double check. Double check. Always good to double check.

Pansy was busy in the laundry room and inspecting the dresses to wear to the charity feast Thursday when Hermione came up to the doorway holding a bag of plums in hand. Hermione had found an excuse on where she was going at this hour.

Out of the corner of Pansy's eye, she noticed Hermione standing there and said, "After finding that poor dress just shivering in your wardrobe, I think I'll cheer it up some more, and you'll wear it out Thursday. I have a dress with similar shade and fabric that will pair nicely with it— it's appropriate for Hogwarts, at least. What do you think?"

Hermione's evening gown was on a hanger happily hovering around Pansy and looking much better than it did before. It was made of a shiny periwinkle satin. The color reminded Hermione of her Yule dress that she wore back in '94. The gown had droopy shoulder straps and a maxi pleated skirt with many folds; every time the dress moved under the lighting it was like waves of shimmering water.

She didn't have an opinion this time about how Pansy wanted them to dress up for the feast. If there was a downside to the dress, it would be that it had been a gift from her ex-Lisa. Hermione had worn it a total of two times, but the second time wearing the periwinkle dress it didn't fit right, so she left the thing hiding in her wardrobe these last few years. 

When first spotting the dress back at her flat, Hermione contemplated on whether she should throw the dress out or not. Most of the time it was Hermione who was frugal and wouldn't throw out a gown even if it was old, but it really had lost all its shape and shimmer. Pansy was the one who adored it on sight, feeling sympathetic for a bunch of fabric. The pretty witch educated her wife again about how the magic in the threading was what had all warped and twisted—another victim to the muggle cleaners it had seemed, but the fabric was still durable. Hermione's periwinkle could be saved with just a little bit of love and a proper cleaning at home.

Since Pansy wanted Hermione to wear the evening gown, this saved Hermione from having to borrow from Pansy's expensive wardrobe again for the feast, because everything else in her own wardrobe just wouldn't do for the kitchenware heiress. 

Hermione smiles politely back to Pansy, though it felt distant when she did so,"That's good. Thank you for helping with my dress, I'd have thrown it out otherwise thinking it couldn't be worn again. Now it looks just like the day it was gifted to me," 

"All your clothes are much happier and thankful that you married me too," That was why she refused to let Hermione do the laundry as a shared chore! Just look at the amount of lifeless clothes that were needed to be sorted through in the laundry room!

Pansy frowned when she spotted the bag in Hermione's hand then and asked, "What's that in your hand?"

Hermione lifts up the bag of plums for the pretty witch to see, "I'm going over to Harry's to drop off some plums. I'll be back a little later."

There was no change in expression for Pansy, she simply answered, "Okay." 

Because, what else is she supposed to say or forbid? Sure, their partnership had improved and the two might have shared a few kisses, but they still had their own matters to deal with and were not a real couple to bring the other along.

Hermione felt uneasy, but didn't want Pansy to worry so she couldn't tell her about double checking, she just needed to reassure herself. The same could be said for Pansy who, while an oblivious Hermione was away, would be stuck having to block harassing floo calls from annoying family members or even trashing the evening papers and magazines that were back with headlines that read and openly questioned her marriage to Hermione Granger, again . 

The two quietly didn't pester the other with questions, and Hermione left Plum Manor without any resistance.

≪—≫

Hermione knocked lightly on the door and the wife of the civil worker opened the door. A dachshund was barking at her feet a bit defensively. Petal s. Right, Hermione remembered this little thing again. Petals was just a pup last she saw her, and while a little bigger, there were still her baby barks that didn't do much to intimidate a grown witch. 

She looks up from the dog and back to the woman while wearing her ugly politician smile to greet her. It was in the evening, so the husband was conveniently home for Hermione to access memories. Casting the Confundus charm on both muggles, Hermione was able to convince them to invite her inside as a licensed TV inspector. 

David hadn't remembered if one was going to come around, but yes, perhaps he did get three letters in the post stating they would show up, and now he had to play 'nice' for superficial reasons, because he wasn't much of a confrontational man to give the lady an earful. It didn't help that she had already pointed out the satellite that was set up on his house like a typical inspector, and Loralei already served the tea!

Instead of being nosy and actually inspecting if the couple's telly was hooked up to the aerial ( it was clearly connected, as the long running soap, Coronation Street, was playing in the background), Hermione checked on the altered memories she had planted in David and made sure everything was flawless without an obvious stitch in his memories or for any noticeable dark magic that might have been cast on him. She was not very skilled in Legilimency, only knowing the basics of it through learning Occlumency, but muggles were fairly easy to catch off guard. 

Hermione felt that all things were in order and, "Yup, this…looks like the, uh, telly hooked up to the aerial. Let me just jot that down for you. How about upstairs—No? Alright." She had no interest in pushing a play. 

Where to even write it down? Confundus' charms kept David and Loralei from thinking too much about such details, including how casually Hermione was dressed for a home visit. Her yellow t-shirt being the boldest color in their beige color living room.

After sipping a bit of hot tea and chewing store-bought shortbread biscuits, Hermione decided it was a good time to leave and head off to Harry's as her alibi, but her eyes caught sight of the dachshund begging with watery little eyes for the crumbs of a biscuit. Ignoring the muggles now, Hermione's brain focused on Petals. She silently read the little white t-shirt the dog was wearing, 'Smart Buns'. 

"..."

It suddenly dawned on her as to why her brain was instantly uneasy by the sight of Petals just then. Not all was in order. Hermione almost did drop her crumbling shortbread cookie just then.

Padma wouldn't check the memories of a dog though, would she?!  

No way! It was uncommon to check the memories of animals when using legilimency. Basically because an animal's thoughts were another 'language' that took time to 'translate' back; be that muggle or magic— Body language, instinct, scents, and even daily patterns all went into deciphering the animal's thoughts. Much like how Pansy shows she understands Gracie, it's really just a general 'guesswork' of following patterns to what the owl might be thinking, especially with the amount of time they spend bickering together, Gracie can follow Pansy, but Pansy doesn't really know what all the hooting is about. 

Hermione thinks the easiest way to even check Petal's memories was involving animagi that took the form of a dog. She knows this is possible from reading, obviously, but also Harry's godfather, Sirius, once confirmed her curiosity that he was able to communicate somewhat with other dogs while in his animagus form and even to some degree with other mammals, like with Crookshanks who had been half-kneazle. It was more than likely that was even how Peter Petergrew returned to Voldemort. He had a rat network he could get information from.

The dachshund though should have no understanding of magic when raised by muggles, and she wasn't present when Hermione had cast an Imperio. Petals had been downstairs with Pansy keeping the dog company. Regardless, Petals presence was still an unpredictable liability that Hermione didn't want to risk with Padma.

Muggles often use animals to solve crimes with their impressive olfactories, able to distinguish sounds, and identify patterns. A Smart Bun like Petals can be able to remember that a woman (Pansy) once fed her little treats to keep herself well-behaved. So, to help Hermione sleep better at night (or try to in any case), not even Petals could be spared! 

Confident in her memory charm, but not that arrogant to think someone can't crack it, Hermione could only be cautious and reassure herself one last time.And thankfully, Hermione can still misplace some of that information in a dog. 

After saying her goodbyes that will be forgotten within the hour, 'Who came for a visit, again? Right. The license inspector kept threatening in the post that she was gonna come by. Ah, whatever, at least I don't have to deal with that glorified grifter for a while now.'

The glass screen door opens and closes, reflecting the late evening sky with clouds clumping overhead. Hermione steps onto the pavement, but out of the corner of her eye, Hermione's heart feels like it lodged into her throat with how much it jumped up. She had to even refrain from coughing at the choking feeling. 

It was Padma Patil?!

Hermione dived behind the smelly bins that had been forgotten that morning by the trash service. Covering her nose, Hermione kept still as she silently cast a disillusionment charm on herself, and did her best to control her breathing—impossible to breathe through her nose with the stench, but she had to try to remain quiet.

Padma didn't look any different from this morning, besides that her leather jacket was hanging over her shoulder; carried by one hand. Her eyebrows had been furrowed, but that knowing smirk was annoyingly present. 

There was a small voice of panic inside Hermione. What is she doing here? How does she know? Who told her? Do I have an unknown tracker spell on me? Hermione tried to calm her heart. Impossible! Is this just a coincidence? Does she just know someone around here? 

Black leather boots scuffle with a pebble as Padma walks up the path, reading over the numbers on the unattached housing. The pebble rolls across concrete before wobbling and settling just near Hermione's feet. Dark grape eyes had followed the pebble and then stared at the plastic bins that Hermione was hiding behind as if she might have X-ray vision. 

Hermione was stuck now. She listened for Padma's next move. The sound of footsteps leading away started up again. The stench was unbearable, it was impossible to stay in this position. She finally can't help but remove herself from the bins, and in doing so her disillusionment spell falls away. If she was lucky, Padma won't turn around to even notice her.

And, that was unfortunately when a familiar voice spoke up, "Wow, Hermione," Sounding more sarcastic, "What brings you all the way out here to this borough and…hiding behind bins of all things?"

Of course, it was still Padma Patil. If Hermione was someone who cursed, she would have muttered a few 'f-spells' in response to this. Her body stiffens, and her heart still feels lodged in her own throat. She tries to clear it with a cough before speaking.

Hermione turns around with her signature scowl, "Could ask the same of you—stalking me, are you? I could have sworn that you were suspended after your little stunt with Rita at my house this morning. Nobody told you that?"

She does her best not to show signs that she was panicked at being caught lurking around here. There were a total of two houses between them, and one was the civil servant's home. Padma's shoulders were relaxed and her other hand was in her black trouser pocket. Hermione could still see Padma's stupid smirk, which only showed how she was aware of something and amused by it.

Where could Padma even get such information so quickly? Without a signature or personal item, it was impossible for Padma. Making it all the more suspicious. Hermione is still very sure that she doesn't have a tracking spell attached to herself.

Padma eyeballs Hermione for any inconsistency in nervous body language. 

Hermione was quick to pull her left hand behind her back and silently summoned the small sack of plums as some sort of reasonable alibi—' I'm just visiting family with plums' was a good enough excuse. Hermione was muggleborn, there was a possibility of having relatives living here.

Sure, it was certainly suspicious, but both of them shouldn't be here anyways. 

Padma catches the sight of the swinging bag behind Hermione. The scent of plums wafted around Hermione. Seeing as it wasn't a wand there was no reason to be alarmed by Hermione. 

The suspended officer kept her emotions in check, not wanting to reveal any reason as to what she was doing here. Standing as they were, it only seemed as if the two were old friends that just happened to bump into each other on the street, and stopped for a chat, but the atmosphere between them was far from friendly.

Hermione was observant enough to still catch sight of Padma's hand holding more than her jacket, all her hidden emotions were squeezed tightly into a fist.

"Well, we can't trust Rita all the time, can we?" Padma let out a self-depreciating chuckle of how she did just that. It was the type of laughter that should have put Hermione at ease, but it did nothing of the sort. 

You can't trust Rita at all, even in my fifth year I had her on a tight leash to stay within the truth to Harry's story, and now through association I stopped trusting you. How could you? All because of Pansy? You didn't even know I had married her until it had to be exposed. So, why do you continuously need to go hard against me, Padma?

Padma pretended that being here had nothing to do with Hermione, "Before you suddenly want to sic your wife's legal team on me again, these are my off hours, and have nothing to do with you." There was a soft wheeze through her nose as she decided to answer what she was doing here in the neighborhood,"I just want to let off some steam and visit with some mates." 

Are your mates named David, Loralei and Petals? Her thoughts dripped with sarcasm. Interesting! What a coincidence! That's the official who married me!

"I don't believe you." Hermione states. 

' Just doing my job' , finally turned into 'These are my off hours.'  Hermione had the urge to roll her eyes at how Padma was still wanting to pretend. But, tattling on Padma would only place questions on Hermione too. They were at an awkward standstill. 

Neither of them made any further steps to meet half-way. If someone from the neighborhood pulled the curtain back from their windows to see the two women standing at odds, the muggle might think there was some showdown about to take place on the streets with the weird atmosphere that developed each time these two 'old friends' spout words back to each other. 

Padma's eyes look over at the house that Hermione had just visited herself, "Know anyone who lives here?"

Despite her heart thumping anxiously, Hermione didn't give Padma a satisfying answer, "Without a legal advisor present, I don't have to answer any of your questions." Then she turned away as if it had nothing to do with her.

"Hermione…" Padma calls for Hermione to look back at her. The tone was much softer now with a sense of loss. " Can't I just talk with you, as an old friend for a second?"

Friends…were we ever friends? 

Hermione barely looks back, but her feet pause on the footpath waiting on hearing the rest of what the officer had to say… her old classmate…her old club member, someone that once raised her wand alongside Hermione's against Death Eaters …

For Hermione those few memories that she did have with Padma were so long ago and most of them always had Parvati in them—the twin that Hermione could actually call a friend if not just old dorm mates. 

One memory comes to mind where she had been happy for the twins. Hermione had helped Harry teach the sisters how to cast the patronus charm. Their dark eyes sparkled under the swirling light that left their wands, it floated around the room before eventually fading away. It had been the happiest she had ever seen the Patil twins, bouncing up and down on the balls of their feet. 

Parvati had shouted across the Room of Requirement to Lavender for confirmation on if she caught sight of what the patronus was. "What do you think?" 

Lavender did see something and was trying to hold back laughter, "I think there was a bushy tail—your patronus isn't a squirrel is it, Vati?" 

"N-no! It shouldn't be!"

Lavender broke into a fit of laughter before finally looking over at Padma ."Sorry, I wasn't quick enough to see what you had, but must be way cooler compared to your sis—"

"Piss off, Lav! Talk when you get one yourself! Anyways, if it was a squirrel—it could be cute." Parvati spun on Hermione and Padma then, "You think so don't you?"

Lavender was heard shouting in the background that it was a rodent— "And, rats aren't cute no matter how fluffy one is!"

Hermione had mostly ignored her roommates aesthetics, and mentioned then that while she hadn't seen any bushy tails, she could just about make out a large paw in the wispy light from Padma's own spell.

A younger Padma then was the most determined to try again to see for herself. Announcing that by the end of the week, she'd cast a full corporeal patronus much like Cho's swan and Hermione's otter. 

Padma even went on to add while side-eyeing her sister, "And, mine won't be a rat…"

"Mine isn't a rat!" Parvati shouted defensively, "I don't even know what it was…but it was most certainly not that!"

But, both the witches' patronuses were only ever non-corporeal. Hermione wonders if the now officer's patronus ever became anything corporeal. Hermione thinks it had to have been a wild feline; a lynx, perhaps a mythical gryffin or maybe even something more extinct like a saber tooth. The paw was big enough for either guess.

Corporeal patronuses were personal to one's own self, so even if Hermione could guess, it wasn't easy to know. And, the form she thought she saw could have already changed after what Padma had experienced during the war and after. The first time she heard of such a thing, was when Nymphadora Tonk's patronus had been changed just because she had deeply fallen in love with an older man that she believed was a helpless and unrequited love. 

Others were lucky. While Harry no longer had to imagine what it would be like to have a family, he now remembers how he held James for the first time in his arms—it was still a stag. Ron only vaguely remembers the first time he caught a quaffle and saved the quidditch match, now instead he proudly thinks of all the things he has accomplished since then—it was still a Jack Russell terrier. 

And, Hermione? She can't think of the happy days she went camping with her parents anymore, but if she cast her corporeal patronus now— No, I don't cast it anymore. She had once caught sight of something taking form in the white mist that was no longer her otter. It had become a devastating blow straight after the war to find that her playful curiosity had gone from the world and been replaced with a more cynical and bitter response to what became of her. 

Padma interrupted her memories, "Hermione," She repeats,"I used to think highly of you, back when we were first years, you know?" Padma's voice was slightly low, and Hermione had to tilt her ear in the direction of the other witch, waiting to hear where Padma was taking this, "Us, Ravenclaws, we used to think how you should have been one of us, but maybe, really…after learning what you're truly capable of…Slytherin should have been your home."

Hermione's brow can't help but wrinkle in disgust suddenly at the idea of it. 

"What are you going on about?"

The memory of the hat's scratchy voice began to haunt Hermione after all these years just then.

"Not a difficult choice, eh? Very bright indeed and you even have Godric's sense for justice— Oh, but what is this? " It measured the eleven year old Hermione's potential and dug deeper into her mind for all the things she had tried to hide from it, from others, from herself , "...ah, such things are truly the weapons to greatness if honed by such a house as his ...but, unfortunate, so unfortunate… " 

The hat had wheezed sadly, and caused little Hermione's heart to drop. "No. No. Maybe not unfortunate at all… I was always of the impression that Salazar was just the dark side to Rowena's same cold moon, and it is a shame that had he not shunned Godric's blazing sun…what many more great things he could have accomplished. With all things you value in your own heart, child, hold it dear, for it will pave the great future you are most destined for—BE IT GRYFFINDOR!"

Yes, Hermione Granger could have been Slytherin if she wasn't muggleborn. If she didn't loudly express to the Sorting Hat about her admiration for one's courage over that of knowledge…because there was no hiding Hermione's true self from an old hat who had found all the things Salazar would have praised if not for her temperament and parentage.

"I think you know exactly what I'm going on about."

It was as if Padma's words were trying to skin and expose the ugliness that Hermione Granger always had underneath that polite smile and wild curls—the dark side of her moon that she didn't like to reveal to polite company. An existence that had been there long before Bellatrix Lestrange… the woman only a twisted image of what Hermione always feared she would have been had she been sorted to Slytherin…had she not been raised under Godric's blazing sun. 

The fragment sounds of clapping and cheering echoed far away from her mind now, and Hermione could only grimace at Padma exposing such a matter, something a little Hermione had buried deep in her memories, having been ashamed of knowing that under different circumstances she could have unfortunately been Slytherin. 

No, Hermione stops any doubts that try to rise up, I won't be bothered by Padma's opinions. 

I'm Gryffindor…

For Padma to stand there now and call Hermione a Slytherin…when the brilliant witch has already proven herself otherwise.

A pinned Hermione underneath Bellatrix had been terrified, even telling herself that if she was to die then she should be willing to sacrifice herself in the name of good. For all the things that she was willing to shed and sacrifice for Harry's world—that had included her mind and life .

But, Hermione still had an unwillingness to just give in to Bellatrix's mental attack and torture, because that would be a failure . A fear that was embedded into her bones to never accept. Hermione couldn't be weak, she could not give in, there could not be a loss, because Hermione didn't allow for failure. 

And, Godric forbid, there was ever failure? Continue to give them hell. Claw and scratch your way up through the dirt and ash they tried to bury you in, throw everything you got, tackle them into submission and have them be the ones begging for mercy, because the world had to be made in the image of Harry's idea where good always prevails and defeats evil. 

" With all things you value in your own heart, child, hold it dear, for it will pave the great future you are most destined for—BE IT GRYFFINDOR!"

Being brave, standing up for what was right, protecting Harry, surviving and fighting back against my own fears—failure and facing my dark moon's twisted self. 

I'm Gryffindor!

Hermione tightened her hold on the bag of plums and persuaded herself not to toss them at the other witch when she spoke back, "Then I think it's a good thing you didn't do the sorting—"

"Some of us are still being shoved into houses that you picked for us, so what makes you any different from me by saying it?"

Hermione chuckles in disbelief at what she was hearing, "Padma. When have I done that? We're adults now, it's normal for change, and no one is being forced into any houses. This isn't Hogwarts anymore."

Some of them did grow away from the Hogwarts house they were sorted into as children, but Hermione couldn't blame or judge them for that either, because none of them were allowed to be the same eleven year old kids they once were. 

The war had made them leave their innocence behind in that Great Hall where children of the same age as them had died. The youthfulness from their cheeks had long shed into maturity, and even their patronus might have reshaped into something that only reminded them of that change. 

How could Hermione not have changed when her 'darkest' mirror above her broke through her mind, and terrorized every nerve in her body?

It skewed her personality, it kept her from sleeping, it made her bitter, and with her fears of almost failing, Hermione couldn't lose that amount of control in her life again—she would not bow, she would strike, and so what, if it meant she would hurt others? As long as they don't cross her or even touch her bottom line, who is there to even hurt?

Padma didn't let Hermione go that easily, " When have you ever done such a thing? Seriously ? For how long does she have to live with RAT on her face until you finally let that go?"

The officer was obviously talking about Marietta Edgecombe. Hermione barely thought of the other Ravenclaw in years, not even her ex Lisa Turpin would bring Marietta up to her, but lately that witch's name kept popping up into conversation by everyone…much like all the other terrible things that Hermione had done…in the name of 'good'.

"This is about Marietta now?" Hermione scoffs, "Seriously?"

Hermione had only believed at first that it was about trapping a beetle in a jar… that it was one too many toes that she had stepped on at the Ministry…that it had to do with some mysterious person who had the power to shadowban her at the Ministry…but now to think it just had something to do with jinxing RAT on a girl's forehead?

Why am I once again being forced to feel guilty for what I did? A string of dark thoughts suddenly interrupted back, She deserved what she got! Imagine if Umbridge turned out to be a Death Eater. Marietta Edgecombe's weakness could not be trusted in war. For Harry's safety, such a person couldn't stay in Dumbledore's Army! Marietta set the example of what would happen if any of them betrayed my best friend. It could have been any of them that could have suffered that same fate, and I would still feel zero remorse for it, because I would have been in the right! Padma. Parvati. Lavender. Dean. Justin. Ernie. Neville. Luna. Ginny. Even Ron. But, none of them ratted Harry out! 

All of them had something to protect from Umbridge, yet none of them did what Marietta did! Sure, Umbridge didn't turn out to be a Death Eater, but she was still a paramounting obstacle that stalled their chance of being prepared to fight back against Voldemort's return and she still harmed Harry! There was no need to forgive! And, it's not like Marietta is locked up in Azkaban like Umbridge! 

Wanting to defend her actions to this day swelled up in Hermione's heart, but before she could say anything back, the other witch kept her from doing so. 

"Don't even think to give me that righteous spill of yours. You can't forgive Marietta for what she did, but you can forgive Pansy who wanted to give up Harry to Death Eaters? Which one is different? Who did worse? Oh, I already know what this is…"

The words of Padma were like a painful strike that instantly deflated Hermione's heart, and she was unable to produce words or reason. The guilt fell back into her like a poison and made her suddenly doubt everything she had just thought of. 

"Maybe it's better to just hope we can raise a child that takes on the better parts of ourselves. Teach a child to be brave in the darkest of times, kind when one should be, intuitive when needed, loyal to those worthy, but most of all, forgiving to those that aren't privileged to be any of those things… "

Those were words she said to Pansy just yesterday while dancing, and now she turns around and thinks something different in the face of Padma to protect her own hypocrisy, to hide her guilt, and the ugliest side of herself . 

Padma's mouth hooks, creating that stupid knowing smirk, but her eyes look at Hermione with both mirth and hatred, "Right now, Pansy just benefits you, but once she's useless, you'll throw her away. And you think you'll get away with it too…won't you?"

No!

With such ridiculous accusations, Hermione was able to finally defend herself and spin this around, "Clearly speaking out of jealousy and rejection here again, Padma, so even if I do explain myself, you'll just delude yourself in some other way…first the excuse of doing your job and now it's about Marietta…seriously?" Hermione then decided to add childishly, "Just accept that maybe my wife just wasn't that into you…"

Whatever test Pansy had for Padma, the witch had failed it. Hermione was already more than aware of who Pansy loved the most. Millicent Bulstrode. And, after getting the confirmation, even Hermione knew Padma wasn't Millicent, not even one tenth of her. Because the Slytherin girl wasn't the sentimental type. There would have been no exchanging of words or this nonsense of 'you've changed'. She preferred violence, with either fists or spell throwing, and especially if you ever laid a hand on her kitchenware heiress. She would not let you go easy!

Padma gritted her teeth, "You can't even answer me about Marietta or Pansy, so I think I'm right! I really don't see how she could be that into you either—there are a lot of things I think you lack."

Hermione was trying to hold back her anger— 

Again, Padma doesn't even let Hermione argue even if she wanted to, "...because you're not a very good person, Hermione. And, isn't that your whole schtick— bad people get punished and good people are praised? Well, I think it's reasonable that it's time you should get your own retribution for what you've done. If not me , if not Rita, if not Marietta …someone else will come for you…the amount of people you've upset must be endless."

The witch said nothing more besides how she wasn't going to waste anymore of her time listening to Hermione's self-righteousness, even though Hermione barely got a chance to defend herself. Then what was the point in even talking with Hermione? Some power play moves to reveal nothing? Padma waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal and took the last word between them.

Impossible to think that it was just one single thing as Marietta Edgecombe! Completely impossible! Who could Marietta make friends with that could cause Hermione's fall from grace in the first place? Nobody! For what little she knows about what happened to Marietta after Hogwarts, the witch mostly interacts with the muggle world more, because she can hardly get a job in the wizarding one. Hermione didn't even think Marietta was that close to her own housemates besides Cho to have such strong feelings of revenge.

"…the amount of people you've upset must be endless."

More than likely Padma was a useful puppet for somebody , but not Marietta. 

Padma moved toward the house under Hermione's watchful eyes. With some bitterness at not getting the last word in, all Hermione could do was fume internally and not jump the wand with Padmas's back turn. She just wasn't that cowardly. 

Honestly—Go ahead, knock on the door! You won't get anything useful! You can't catch me! You won't even get an apology out of me! You won't ever get the chance to ship me off to Azkaban! This won't get you a promotion and most definitely not Pansy! Marietta will have RAT on her face for as long as I live! And, I will live a long life out of spite just for that!

With those thoughts, Hermione arrogantly could not allow Padma to have the last word, and finally shouted back at the other witch who was seconds away from knocking.

"Watch your words Padma and hope I don't just use them to dismiss you from the case…whatever upperhand you think you have, you don't."

I am the one in control here!

After double checking, what was there to worry about? The worst that Padma can actually do is get a search warrant for recognizing the usage of a memory charm, but honestly what can she actually find? What would come will come, and Hermione will always out pace her. She has an alibi. A truth. 

I'm still steps ahead of you, Padma.

Chapter Text

Harry and Ginny lived in Godric's Hollow. In the very little village that Harry never had a chance to grow up in.

The Potter residence was visually normal, lit up by warm and inviting enchanted lights. Like with most of the magical families that shared Godric's Hollow with muggles, Harry's home was built semi-magical. It had muggle plumbing, but wasn't connected to any electrical source. The unattached house was a pale beige brick with wooden shutters and a decent size front garden to enjoy. A swing tied to an old tree swayed gently with the evening summer breeze. Pennant flags in the colors of the Chudley Cannons and the HolyHead Harpies were hanging from the awning of the bay window upstairs. A few wild honking daffodils grew alongside the house that Harry kept saying he would start maintaining about three summers ago, but never got around to it. Thankfully, they grow just fine without his meddling and muggles assume the Potter yard just had a few geese from time to time. 

Village dogs could be heard barking in the little roundabout and down the old cobblestone streets that had the occasional cracks growing flowers and weeds. There was even the noise of older kids still out playing football or some other muggle game that Hermione had long forgotten the rules to or more likely that Hermione had just never been invited to play when she was a kid.

In the village square was a war memorial that would also magically reveal itself as a monument to the Potter Family back in 1981. A well-maintained graveyard was set further off with a wrought iron fence and a little old village church that the older crowd of religious muggles would still attend alongside the bishop. Every Halloween and Christmas Eve Hermione knew that her best friend liked to visit the graveyard where his parents were buried. A few yards past the graveyard was Old Bagshot's house where Hermione and Harry once fell out of the second story window trying to escape Nagini. A new magical family lives there now and Harry says they're a nice sort. 

Old shops and a small primary school could be seen in the distance up the road along with Godric Hollow's farms and green hills. Godric's Hollow seemed the perfect place to start a family, raise children and create warm and lasting memories. It was a little world of its own away from the big cities.

Hermione knew Harry's dream home had taken a good amount of her best friend's small fortune to buy it outright and be able to fix it up after the war. He didn't want to have to sleep in the dark and decrepit Number 12 Grimmauld Place ever again. Hermione couldn't blame him for such a decision. For a short little time after her break up with Ron, Hermione had stayed at the Black townhouse all by herself before finding her own flat and it was still depressing after all those years. It reeked of Sirius's childhood trauma. 

Lying in an old doxy bitten bed and listening to the grumbling complaints of Phineas Black in his Grimmauld picture frame— he never did get over the trio having to abandon him in the woods despite them being captured by Snatchers. Hermione could only remember Sirius talking about his terrible mother and how heartbreaking it was knowing Sirius spent his last few months alive in what could be considered a second prison— only a free man in death. Her best friend couldn't stomach it and Hermione couldn't either. Staying too long in such a place made them feel bitter about the things they couldn't stop.

Harry's dream home on the other hand gave hope and promised beginnings. It was bright and lively with the sound of a child's contagious laughter inside. The current laughter to be heard belonged to Harry's son, James.

Hermione glances at her wristwatch to read that it was 7:32 PM. At least one of them should already be home at this hour—though running a little late if it wasn't Harry. 

When the first street lamp was lit some parents were already calling their kids in for dinner. 

Opening the gate, Hermione overheard Harry's neighbor reprimanding his child with some disbelief for coming back with grass stains and mud all over his trousers and shirt—

"It only rained a bit this morn', where did you get the time to go rolling in all this mud?" 

She looks over at the two across the way.

The dad ruffled the hair of his son with some helplessness when he heard the kid's classic answer, "Don't know, Dad." Though it sounded more like a 'Dunno, Dad'. "I was just kicking the ball around with Sean and Debs—You should have seen Sean—worse than me. He did a step over and failed miserably at it. Tripped right over himself." The boy tossed the round ball lightly in his hands as he spoke to his dad, "Had to show him how it's done."

Guiding the boy inside, the dad replied back with a sigh, " Ah, Dunno , such a muddy place. You lot don't wander off that way again then, yeah—and what is this…'stepover' you taught him? Not as simple as it sounds then?"

With watching the warm scene of child and parent converse about the other's interests, for a brief moment Hermione thought of her own 'imaginary' child with Pansy— coming home to a child covered in mud and with a story to tell about their own day, but then Hermione quickly shook away the impossible before it could hook into her. Her brain couldn't get stuck on such a fantasy because then her heart might get attached to it. 

She turned away from Harry's neighbors. Hermione stepped through the front garden and up the pebbled footpath to knock. Honestly, it was a little bit of an odd feeling for her to actually knock on Harry's front door. 

Normally she would either come through from the kitchen's back door or take the floo instead.As friends, and especially when they were in their early twenties , Ron and Hermione would often come and go from the Potter residence no matter the hour. 

Back then, Harry's house had been the trio's go-to-place to hang out at that wasn't always the Weasley's Burrow, but then Harry settled down with Ginny and the two gave the couple a little more privacy and came over less on weekdays, but Harry always said his fireplace was open to his best friends, and nothing would change from that. 

Ron would still at times floo in from the pub without his best friends having to coax him home, and where he would fall right onto Harry's couch snoring off the pints he had. This old habit would then of course have Harry wake up to Ron's drunk stompings to come down and flip the wizard safely over on his side, throw a blanket over him, and head back up to bed—of course not before drawing cat whiskers on Ron's freckles with the leftover soot and a smirk on his own face.

Hermione herself would still charge in from Harry's fireplace with soot on her own cheek to have somebody talk her out of wanting to send somebody on a long holiday. If it wasn't Harry, then Ginny would douse the fire instantly with, "Right, perfect timing, 'Mione. Hold Jamie here for a minute—I'm in need of a shower. The lil' menace wee'd on me while changing him." Her own arrogance instantly knocked down to being a diaper changer by Ron's little sister instead.

Ginny's voice could be heard on the other side of the door now, "Who is it—" Ron's sister sounds preoccupied suddenly, because there was a pause and then a shout of "James!"

Hermione was quick to answer that it was only herself. The door instantly opened with what must have been the flick of a wand. 

"Stop being awkward like a stranger and get your arse in here to help me out then!" Even Ginny thought it was odd of Hermione to come through the front door. 

With red hair twisted up in a bun and wearing a sunset color striped t-shirt, Hermione easily caught sight of the vibrant witch from the doorway. The witch stood in the living room with a wooden basket held up by a left arm and a bony hip. 

With a wave of her yew wand in the other hand, Ginny tossed in socks and Jamie's cotton green dungarees that had been on the floor at her feet. There was still his orange shirt and a Weasley jumper laying off to the side that refused to listen to Ginny's magic, including Albus's baby tote that had been toppled over with all its contents spilled out.

Stuck doing the laundry was an average day at the Potter residence with two kids under the age of three. You look away from James for one second, and suddenly the toddler will be found running around giggling in only his undies like it was somehow the funniest thing in the world. There would always somehow be clothes strewn across the floor no matter how tightly you dressed him and sometimes without a clue as to where his clothes had even gone. There were likely unmatched socks lurking around here somewhere. 

Molly Weasley once said that Ron's second oldest brother, Charlie, had been the same at that age— "Jamie will grow out of it too!"

Followed by an unamused Ginny every time, "Thanks, mum…let's hope he grows up to tame dragons then as well…"

"You know that is not what I said, Ginevra—Oh, so help me, Merlin, my grandson better not have anything to do with dragons, do you hear me?"

Hermione cast her own charms to pick-up the clothes and clean up Albus's baby tote. The bag cleaned itself up, piling the extra toys, powder, bottles and clean diapers back inside. Next, the rest of the laundry went into the basket. Dirty clothes from all over the house came flying into the living room and falling into Ginny's basket; including a few missing socks that had once been hiding under the couch cushions for who knows how long. 

"Damn! I was wondering where those unmatched socks buggered off to…" Ginny groaned as the socks wiggled about in the basket. It was like they were giggling at the witch for having missed them earlier. Ginny scowled down at the knitted socks and they instantly went still. 

"Aunt 'Mione!"

A flash of messy auburn hair comes speeding out from behind the family's overly large reading chair. Sure enough, once Ginny invited Hermione in, James was running straight for his aunt with only his quidditch pattern underwear on.

The Weasley genes were more prominent in James' features. Having a head of red hair that was at least just as wispy and messy as Harry's own, those Weasley blues that he shared with both his Uncle Ron and mum, and Hermione even noticed light freckles were beginning to splotch over his chubby cheeks. In a couple of years, he'll likely get the 'Prewett' growth spurt that came from Molly's side of the family too.

Oh, but Hermione was sure that James Sirius Potter was going to grow up and take after his namesakes. James was both intelligent, mischievous and had a knack for getting into and out of trouble. 

His little brother, Albus, would instead likely grow up to be the spitting image of his dad. Dark locks of hair and bottle green eyes. The baby— or toddler now at this stage as Hermione still can't get over how big Harry's sons were getting in such a short span of time , was currently leaning back into the love seat's teal cushions. 

His chubby legs were sticking out with striped socks on and wearing a soft blue romper. Biting and slobbering into his little teething toy that was shaped into a ring, Albus was staring off into space as if he had little interest in whatever his brother was doing or why his Aunt Hermione showed up out of the blue. 

Hermione certainly couldn't fathom the thoughts of a baby, but this little guy always looked between as if he was having deep thoughts or completely dazed. Ginny likes to call Albus her ' Little Philosopher '. Albus still hasn't shown any signs of wanting to communicate with others that weren't his own parents. There was still his 'Da-duh' and 'Mum-muh ' and his ' No!' and ' Ya!' if he wanted something, but Albus's development was just quieter than James' own. 

After closing the door behind her and sitting a bag of plums on a table next to the door, Hermione lifted James up to hug him with a helpless greeting, "Hey, Jamie-Bug, why are you not wearing your clothes?"

James answered Hermione, "Dunno," Sounding much like the older boy she heard outside, "Mum has 'em now." He points to Ginny with the basket. "Look at her!"

Ginny rolls her eyes when the attention returns back to her, " Dunno, he says! This boy knows a lot more than that!"

Being three, James was already starting to make full sentences. Harry had updated Hermione and Ron at the wedding yesterday about how James had become an instant social butterfly over the summer. Whenever Harry talked about his kids, there was always the pride of parenthood visible in his eyes.He told them about he had to keep James from straying away and speaking to random strangers when at the shops or what James had said when calling out to the muggle neighbors when out playing in the yard. 

Clearly parroting his grandfather with questions like , "Ooooh, whatcha doing with that—thingy there, Mist-er Song?" or, "I like your shiny new car there, Missus Pepper—full wheels, is it?"

The neighbors at first would stare in confusion at what the little guy was even asking them, but then they would try to help encourage the boy's growing social skills by actually conversing with him, 'It's called a push mower, James. Ask your granddad to come over and you guys can take a look at it sometime—he'll get a kick out of it. Tell him I got it cheap for only 80 quid." Or, "You mean four wheel drive, dearie? No, I think it's just a—just like your dad's Astra in the garage, but thank you."

When all five of them had to sit and wait for Luna to eventually walk down the aisle with her dad, Harry would continue on, "Just the other day, he was like, 'Dad! This gift…this is for you. Keep it safe!'"

"Aww, that's so cute—he's so sweet!" Pansy and Hermione had adored the cuteness of hearing about James' progress, but Ron had been the one to ask the real questions, because he knew better than to take James Sirius's cute behavior at face value , "Alright, but what did Jamie actually give you, Harry?"

Ginny had to unfortunately reveal the 'gift' while Harry looked the most embarrassed, "Albus's dirty nappy!"

Holding up this sweet little prankster now, Hermione replies back to James while wearing an exaggerated expression of wide eyes, "Oh? Then that just means I can tickle your tummy now!" 

She began to raise her hand, turning it into a scary claw in front of him and becoming the 'tickle monster', but it only caused James to giggle with a scrunched up nose and eyes. He was not at all intimidated by the threat of being tickled by his own aunt. Likely the only one in the world to have zero fear of Hermione Granger's threats. 

"No, don't," His voice filled the living room again and the toddler reached out to hold her outstretched hand to stop Hermione, "Aunt 'Mione!" 

She closed her hand around his then and smiles at the bright joy in her arms. Looking at Hermione now no one would guess she had anything to do with the headlines and articles that were being written about her. 

 Hermione then looked back at his exhausted mum. "Did you just get home?"

Ginny drops the basket of clothes onto a short table that was in front of the couch and collapses onto the loveseat beside Albus, "Yup, just finished up a team meeting and these two," A hand landed on Albus's head to count him in, but the baby was completely unbothered by his mum flattening his messy tufts of hair, continuing on with his toy. "just got back from mum's, and it took just a foot for that one," She lifts an accusing finger from Albus's head and points it at her oldest, "to walk out of the fireplace and magically pop his dungarees right off and scatter the rest of his clothes all over the house…"

Magical children did sound like they would be more of a handful…

"Yup, that was me!" James joined in rather proudly about his own behavior. Which meant he didn't understand at all that his mum was making complaints and not compliments. 

Ginny sighed. "No need to show off. We knew since day one you weren't a squib…"

Hermione finally let her nephew down onto the floor. "Guess you still have a little ways to go with him there then…"

James sauntered his way over toward his baby brother. The baby and toddler were having a tense stare down. Just as James seemed about ready to snatch the teething toy away from his brother's grip, and before Albus could give the ugliest look that his cute little face could muster if his brother stole his toy, Ginny's fast reflexes blocked it all in time. Her hand created a barrier between the little thief and the teething toy.

"Don't bother your brother, you have your own toys, James."

The skills of a mum really, if not a chaser. 

With his mum clearly favoring him, Albus gave a smug 'hmph!' at his brother and kicked his little legs happily on the couch; looking more lively than Hermione had ever seen the baby. James sticks his tongue out at Albus and then spins around with hands behind his back as if he didn't care at all that Albus 'won' this round. 

Ginny ignores the two and continues conversing with Hermione while lowering her hands, "He wore them all day from what I heard, so that's something!"

"A little progress then…" Hermione generously comments.

"You know, Mum joked with me about ' The Terrible Twos ' being our ultimate test as parents, but with Jamie at three years old now, besides being unable to keep his clothes on—we got the rest checked off rather quickly." She starts counting off on her fingers, "Walking, Talking, and Potty Trained…James even knows his colors, letters and can count— to ten at the least, but that's way more than what most grown men down at the pub could tell you with how many glasses they had. Even Albus is one for three." Hermione isn't sure if that was for walking or talking, because Albus certainly wasn't yet on the potty train, "In fact, I think the rest is going to be a breeze after we get that all down pat." Ginny then tilts her head thinking to herself about her sons' fast progress so far, "You think that comes from my side or Harry's?"

Hermione can't say anything about that, but she does know where James got his unabashed confidence from because Harry knows he would have been smacked in the head with a book if he started to brag about that in front of her. As Pansy and Hermione had discussed yesterday and being outsiders looking into the world of parenthood, they didn't think raising any child was going to be a breeze !

The only reason Ginny was probably able to say all of that was because the witch has been treating parenthood like quidditch training. Hermione used to think that she was the only one among her friends to use study planners and schedules, but it turns out Ron's sister could be just as bad, just instead of studying it was about sports. In the kitchen there was a large magical growth chart on Ginny's ice box with potential goals and little reminders written down for her two boys— from potty training, to a little chore list about picking up toys or eating veggies, to even how many words Albus needed to know by the end of the year…ect. 

Maybe in another life with a different experience, Hermione would think Ginny's methods were praise worthy, but having already wrangled with Ron and Harry plenty of times about their study planners and homework back at Hogwarts as teens Hermione knew better than to think that the schedule Ginny had planned out for Albus' and James' growth development was going to be ideal. 

Hermione wears a wiry smile, "You know, Pansy's mum said something about child raising that you should probably want to keep in mind too."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione bringing up Pansy Parkinson, "Oh, then what's that?"

She explained, "Yvette said that Pansy would someday pay for her own raising with that nasty personality she had as a kid, meaning that in the future, Pansy's own kids would show her exactly what Yvette had to deal with whenever Pansy showed attitude…so, these two," Hermione glanced down at her 'innocent' nephews, "Still have time to punish you for the stress you caused Molly over the years, too."

Ginny snorts at that and waves off Hermione and Mrs. Parkinson's warning, "Oh, I was the most well-behaved out of my brothers,"  

No, she was just better at not getting caught and we still haven't unpacked anything about Harry being a magnet for trouble—McGonagall must have a long length of parchment somewhere talking about the days of 'Why is it always those three…'

"But…if that's a thing," Ron's little sister hums while in thought for a second, "I guess I can sleep easy knowing that—" Ginny looks down at James this time who stands awkwardly in front of the couch with his hands still innocently behind his back, "That you won't be as horrid and obnoxious as your Aunt 'Mione's and Pansy's kid will be. Can you imagine? Mouthy, whiny and spiteful…we'll never hear the end of it if someone crosses that kid." Hermione started choking, but Ginny continued on without any concern for her well-being, "Just yesterday your aunts were fighting with others at your aunt Luna's wedding…And, what do we remember about fighting, Jamie?"

"Honestly, Ginny…" Hermioned groaned now, "Do you have to go telling him about that?" 

Hermione has been trying to forget about busting a wizard's face in and silencing Catherine, but seems impossible even here.

The toddler turned around and scolded his Aunt 'Mione while answering his mum, "That's bad!"  

"..." Let's not start like you weren't just about to snatch a teething toy from your brother!

Albus spit up his teething toy and joined in with his brother, "Ba!"

"That's right! That means you guys know more than your Aunt 'Mione!" 

Ginny happily praised the two.  

Again, Hermione was speechless at the audacity, "..." 

Ron's sister always did like to purposely pull Hermione down a peg and get a sputtering reaction out of her—' out of love' , Ginny would excuse.

A maniacal laugh slips from Ginny's lips, and since Hermione still hadn't physically stopped her, the younger witch kept going, "You don't want to know how big of a c—" The mum of two was quick to correct her own language," — snot that your Aunt Pansy was back in school…" 

"Ginny…" Hermione's voice gave warning to the witch's continued brass behavior.

I let the imaginary kid discussion go—mostly because I'm aware it's all said in jest, but let's not get carried away by calling Pansy their aunt just because we're married! In the same way I absolutely would NOT consider myself one to Scorpius! Pansy is delusional to even think Draco considers her family!

The one time Pansy had ever met James and Albus was completely accidental. It was barely anything for either of the two to remember. It was an awkward exchange of hellos with Harry when shopping in Diagon Alley at the time, only Hermione's shopping was a stupid PR stunt. She didn't want the paid paparazzi to have an opportunity to take shots of Harry and his own kids, but Hermione had already lost track of the photographer and she didn't know where or when the next flash from a bulb would come from which placed her in a foul mood. 

She whispered to Harry that they were being monitored that morning. "We need to do this stupid photo run for Chelsea Biggums—the one at Gillards? So, I'm stuck modeling in front of… cantaloupe-sized eggs—are these real Occamy eggs at the morning market?"

Fortunately, it seemed to be the instinct of a model to know whenever a camera was being pointed at herself, because Pansy had the good insight to block every flash of the camera that had been pointed at James and Albus with her own figure. 

Her wife corrects Hermione's moodiness with a dazzling smile. "What 'Mione means to say is that we're running out of… normally-sized eggs. So, put those counterfeits down—Oh, is this Albus?" Those starry eyes couldn't help but land on the quiet baby in Harry's arms that was the same age as her own 'nephew'. "He's so cute—look at those big green eyes! He clearly takes after you, Harry. Doesn't he, Hermione?"

Despite the awkward history of wanting to offer him up to Voldemort, Pansy treated Harry as if they had been long time friends while in front of the public's eyes. James eagerly waited for his own compliment from the pretty witch that was with his Aunt 'Mione. He was getting to the age where he was noticing how different he looked from his own dad. After Albus was born, that was all James would only ever hear. 'Oh, Albus looks just like Harry' and that he was Weasley through and through, but Pansy just seemed to know exactly what the little boy wanted to hear. 

Sharing the same sweet smile she had for Albus, "Of course, James should be proud of all that hair like yours—everyone says that Potters have such unruly hair, but you'll be thankful for it by the time you're thirty."

Her words caused James to beam, even if he didn't really understand what Pansy meant by him being thankful for his dad's genes by the time he was thirty. 

Most of the men in the Weasley Family did genetically end up with a receding hairline, but Hermione still whispered low, "Pansy, don't say that…"

Pansy was offended that she was being scolded, "No, everyone says it!"

Harry could only borrow Pansy's words to cheer up his own son who only wanted to be just like him , "Hear that, Jamie? All this messy hair belongs to us Potters. Everyone says so!"

Ginny's blue eyes barely look over at Hermione. She continues to give James the full rundown of what they were dealing with when talking about Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger, "Let's just say, your Aunt Pansy wasn't as sweet as she seems to be now." She must have heard all about her son meeting Hermione's wife."She was worse than your cousin Tori…" 

Now, Tori was Fleur's oldest daughter Victoire, whom Ginny has been affectionately calling 'Little Snot' ever since she held her niece for the first time back in 2000. Pairing it well with the insulting nickname that Ginny gave to Fleur back when they were all teens: Phlegm .

Hermione thinks Little Snot could be fairly accurate for Tori and even the comparison with Pansy was reasonable. Tori had a domineering and spoiled personality—the little girl's current favorite hobby seemed to be forcing everyone to pay a toll tax when walking through the Burrow's front door. Hermione has lost 2 knuts and a sickle back in early May just because that sweet and angelic face was worse when it bawled and screamed in French, but most of all being put on the spot by Bill for not playing along to his little princess's 'game', "'It's just a lil fun, Ron. It doesn't have to be a sickle, just give her something—a working man like you can't have empty pockets!" Every Weasley gathering had Tori as the little ring leader getting her younger cousins into some sort of trouble and if it wasn't for Harry's godson, Teddy , none of them would ever survive a Weasley birthday, because Tori had the biggest crush on the boy and she was only ever on her best behavior with him around.

None of Fleur's and Bill's kids were spared by Ginny either. Dominique had become poor little 'Catarrh', and even their recent third edition, Louis, became 'Mucus'. Hermione suddenly had a terrible premonition from Ginny's description that her imaginary kid wouldn't be spared by Ron's little sister either…

Ginny gives a curt nod toward the bag that Hermione put down when she came in through the door. 

"What did you drop off by the way?"

Hermione followed Ginny's line of sight as she answered, "Plums. Pansy has been desperate to get rid of them before the next harvest. So, we thought Harry and you would like some…" 

Ginny suddenly stretches to look behind the couch, even straining further to see if anyone was hiding in the hallway or the kitchen. Hermione questions what she's doing. Albus had also swiveled his head to see why his mum was being weird. 

The witch slouched back on the couch, "Oh, I was just making sure nobody was here in this house but us—"

"What?" Hermione was still confused. 

Ginny crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "It's been 'Pansy this' and 'Pansy that' since you walked through that door so I was wondering if you paid someone to follow you around again—it would definitely be weird coming from you, but that just means she has you wrapped around her 300,000 insured finger."

That number is just for her butt...

"..." Ginny really wanted to clock Hermione's odd behavior. Hermione was going to interrupt her by saying it had been Pansy who paid someone to follow them that one time, but thankfully refrained from doing so. She didn't want Ginny to have any more examples of being right. 

"N-no! Before you go on," Hermione went over to pick up the plums now. "We just plan to work on things in private in order to look more natural while in public. A lot of people talk about their SO's all the time, right?" Ron's sister silently raises her eyebrows high on hearing this news. "Don't tell me you haven't heard what's being said over the wireless? I shouldn't have let Catherine go that easy yesterday...should have sealed her mouth permanently…" 

Still a chance for me to do that if she irritates me again. 

Hermione didn't actually want to gossip about her fraudulent marriage with Ron's sister though. She especially wasn't going to share with Ginny about how she had actually snogged Pansy earlier today either.  One, it wasn't really their thing to talk about such things, and would really only lead to Ginny being suspicious and questioning Hermione further, because fake wives don't snog in private like that… ever. 

"Yeah, a few of my teammates won't shut up about it, so I've heard enough," Ginny starts to mock the hosts and journalists then, changing her usual voice to a more silly one, "Now, this is just a theory that's going around, so don't sue me," Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes at the witch, "But, the Granger marriage has got to be fake, right? Because have we, as a society, ever seen two women kissing in public before? We would love to be proved wrong. No pressure, but if you two could just stand a little closer together—" Ginny put up her hands to slowly clasp them tightly together, "Yeah, that'd be some great action there, wouldn't it?" She lowers her hands and huffs out, "Absolute horndogs."

Hermione had to laugh at that one . The public has been acting waaaay too eager in wanting to see us kiss… 

Not wanting to encourage Ginny, she drops a smile and coughs into her first, and tosses the bag of plums over in Ginny's direction with a scowl. "Let's not talk about Pansy, okay?" 

Even though Hermione has a terrible throwing arm for anything that wasn't a spell, Ginny was able to guess how far off Hermione was going to be, and leaned accordingly in order to catch it safely, "Okaaay," It sounded like Ginny had wanted to add, 'but you were talking about her first!'  

James watched the entire transaction between them like a hawk, realizing that what Hermione had handed over was actually food. Anything yummy apparently had to go into James' stomach first. Hermione herself can't even rip plastic off a store-bought pastry without him wanting to mug her for it—the only reason Hermione was able to keep anything was lying to him that it was sugar free and "It's yucky, you won't like it!"

His mum took notice of those unblinking blue orbs targeting herself. Ginny muttered under her breath while looking inside to count and inspect the plums, "No. You never had plum before, James. And, right now, I don't really feel like wanting to clean slimy chunks off the floor when you spit it back up—I had my head in porcelain all morning already. I don't want to have another round of that."

After hearing the word 'No' , James collapsed onto the floor and huffed, "I'll ask Dad when he comes home! He'll let me!"

"You do that." Ginny was not phased, as if knowing the toddler's attention span was short enough to not argue further with her. 

James quickly started playing with a toy train he had spotted under the low table. Chugging it across the hardwood floor and back up the table leg while Albus stares with great interest at the same toy. Fortunately, he was too lazy to climb off the couch to snatch his own brother's toy from him. 

"You were sick?" Hermione was concerned for Ginny now. 

Ginny at the same time looks up from the plums and asks a different question, "So, do you know if Pansy will be coming to dinner next Sunday?"

She steps past James playing and takes a spot on the loveseat for herself—picking up Albus for his spot and placing the baby onto her own lap. He hardly showed any disagreement from it, still watching his brother and slobbering all over his teething toy. Hermione felt a bit put off by the fact Ginny ignored her with such a question. 

Did I not just say NOT to talk about her? Her brow wrinkles, "No. Why would she?" 

Hermione has said the same words back when Ginny confronted her with a similar question when she saw the two meeting each other at a restaurant. 

"Is she coming to dinner next Sunday, then?"  But, unlike the current question, Ginny had asked all coy, so Hermione was confused as to why Ron's sister was acting like she had been caught cheating. 

"Who?" Hermione had already known. Her heart was already climbing its way up her throat to be regurgitated. But, she had hoped to play dumb. 

The answer at the time had made Hermione cover her own mouth in fear something like her own lunch if not her own heart might actually fly out of her mouth: Pansy Parkinson

"No! Why would she?"

Ginny had actually glared at Hermione at the time, arms crossed and looking exactly like the very image of Molly Weasley when she's caught one of her own children in a lie, "Don't have to hide it, you know? I was out with my mates and saw you two together. Eating at that muggle place—the one Ron used to take you for your birthday because you liked it so much? You took her there, Hermione."

Knowing the exact restaurant that Ginny was talking about, Hermione couldn't really deny her friend's own eyeballs—Sure, it wasn't just some random muggle restaurant, either. It was one that her parents used to take her grandparents when they would come to visit. She only ever ordered the Shepherd's Pie every time. Ron must have told his sister the significance of it, but Hermione didn't think it was that special for everyone to keep tabs on it. Pansy certainly didn't know about those memories and they hardly sat there long enough to order any Shepherd's pie. She had recovered at the time by using her typical excuse that always bailed her out in those awkward and tough situations.

"No, it was just a work thing. It wasn't like that. Don't ask again." I would never date her. She would never date me. 

The two ended up secretly getting married in January. 

While Ron would invite any woman he has only known for a weekend over to Harry's Sunday dinners, Hermione was more strict about her invites. Ernie was too obnoxious. Lisa had barely made the cut. There was a witch that didn't owl back. Anthony didn't last. Pansy Parkinson…well, she was Pansy Parkinson. Hermione always cherished those Sunday dinners because it was where the trio could just be themselves and let off steam without the prying eyes of the media and nosy public— if Ron would be more picky with his dates, of course.

If Hermione did finally show up with someone at their little get-togethers it became the best way for her friends to measure how serious the relationship was without the need to probe Hermione for the answers. 

Ginny twirled her wand once again and the plums were sent off into the kitchen. "I don't want to spoil it, but I'll say we're going to announce something big next Sunday night—it's not going to be our usual get-together" Was she going to retire from quidditch afterall? "We're inviting a good amount of friends and family. Mum and Dad. Can't forget my brothers—Not Charlie. We'll write to him. Teammates. Harry's new partner at work—Everyone just calls him Rookie— I don't think that's his surname though."

Hermione makes a short comment that the rookie's name was 'Sweetings'. While Ginny continues listing off the people that were going to be there. "Neville. Dean. Luna." The witch scrunches up her face at the thought of her best mate, still sensitive about not having been told about Theo and corrects while grumbling, "No, probably not Luna. Doubt she'll make it back in time Sunday, but all our close friends will be there, and you are married to Pansy, so it'd be weird if your wife didn't show up to our dinner. Harry even invited her yesterday…he's looking forward to everyone being there."

Hermione muttered an excuse, "I don't know. She might be busy, like… work . Photoshoots or something…" 

She doesn't exactly know what Pansy does sometimes. Does Pansy do anything at her grandfather's company besides suggesting trendy ideas at a family dinner? Does that count as a job? Pansy has company shares. She's considered the family favorite. She must do something there! Again, Hermione was still bothered that she knew very little about her own wife. If there was a test on Pansy Parkinson she would fail it.

Her hand brushed through Albus's extremely soft baby hair. Hermione tried to flatten it to his scalp, but it rebelliously popped up again like an antenna. Albus was still unbothered by Hermione's actions though, still gnawing on his teething toy. 

Given how 'work' was Hermione's usual go-to excuse for everything she personally didn't want to deal with, Ron's sister obviously didn't buy that. 

Ginny twisted her body on the couch to directly face Hermione and Albus now,"Oh come off it, Hermione. You're a shit liar. I know the industry. Pansy hasn't got shit to do." There wasn't a 'because of you ', but Hermione's guilt felt what Ginny left out. "If you're going to Hogwarts Thursday to put on a show then you can show up with her Sunday for Act II."

"It's Pansy Parkinson, Ginny." Hermione closes her eyes, feeling a bit frustrated if she had to explain herself any further. 

It wasn't just about Sunday dinners being sacred. It was about the amount of friends she had that were not friends with Pansy! The amount of so-called friends Pansy had that disliked Hermione! The wedding yesterday was a fluke with everyone being gathered in one place together. Hermione was doing her own wife a favor, really! It'd probably be exhausting having to socialize on the pretty witch's part; having to play nice with all of Hermione's friends when knowing very well that everyone else would have something to say when Pansy was out of earshot. Hermione has spent an unfortunate amount of time with the elites to have her own experience of that nonsense.

How long can Pansy keep up that sweet smile? How long before Pansy snaps at Hannah Longbottom, because the witch will lead every conversation into insulting Pansy, just to get back at the little mean girl who used to make fun of her and her twin tails—not to mention how Pansy used to bully Neville? No, Hannah would say something! Hannah sat several tables away from Pansy at the wedding, but Hermione is afraid that a house would not be enough space for the two witches to remain civil. How long until Percy recognizes Pansy as the girl who enticed Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington to dump Alihotsy Draught on him and send him laughing like a maniac straight to the infirmary—all because Percy gave Daphne and Pansy an unwarranted detention third year for the length of their skirts…that is if Hermione remembered correctly when overhearing the Slytherin girl's reasons in doing so. Who knows what else Pansy has done to upset Prefect Percy during his last year at Hogwarts? George would certainly say something to Pansy's face—he'll turn it into a joke, but everyone knows it'll be about her. 

Oh, and Ron! How could Hermione forget their weird feud? The two would have to stay on opposite sides of the house while Hermione had to mediate so as not to ruin whatever announcement Harry and Ginny wished to make in front of the whole family.

Was Hermione missing anyone that wouldn't get along with Pansy? Yes, probably. Hermione didn't exactly know every sour relationship that Pansy has made over the years or who the witch has even made amends with. For all she knows, Pansy could have made fun of Sweetings back in school—even though the guy would have been a first year during the war. That was probably a can of worms…

If Luna was to show up to the dinner then that might help Hermione reconsider and worry less, because then maybe Pansy would have Theo there at least. Or even Justin , maybe? At the wedding, Pansy sounded like she was close enough with the guy to get by. But, would Dean even bring him as his plus one? It didn't matter. Hermione was still anxious about adding Pansy to her mix of friends. Wouldn't everyone be better off if Pansy didn't show?

Ginny is now the exasperated one, "I'm aware of who we're talking about, but are you?"

Hermione opens her eyes again and turns to her. "Yes," She gritted her teeth. "We're discussing the woman I married." 

My 'dear' and 'darling' wife, model, vixen, kitchenware heiress, Slytherin alum; Pansy Parkinson Granger.

Ginny scoffs, "You should practice saying that with a bit more flavor."

Okay? Hermione knows she should practice though. How about… "My beloved —"

"Cut." Ginny sounded even more disgusted at Hermione's attempt.

Hermione was offended, "What's wrong with it now?" It would be mushy either way! What's the problem? Why can't any of these work?

"It gives me goosebumps." It's not for you. "You really need to work on that. Think about it, would you have called Lisa that when you were with her?"

What did I call Lisa? 

Ginny opens her mouth with the same thought, "Did you call her anything ?"

Hermione shrugs, "I called her Liz—or Lizzy , sometimes." Not all the time, but sometimes.

"You should try that instead. I'll make it sound natural—Not calling Pansy Lizzy, but you know."

Obviously not! Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes at Ginny's unhelpfulness. I was thinking about doing something like that this morning. Just stop overcompensating. 

Ginny starts listing nicknames off, "Pans, Panda—I wonder if her full name is Pandora? I hate mine, but that one isn't too bad even if there are like three Pandoras in a classroom every year. You could do a lot there with that name…What is her full name? Just Pansy?"

"Is it not Pansy?" Hermione's stomach churned. I really don't know anything!  

Her middle name is Yngvild—Y for Yvette. I know that much, because my mother-in-law brought it up first. She curiously asked me if my 'Jean' had any significance after reading it on her family's tapestry, and I told her it had been my mum's name. I wish I looked at the tapestry myself now. It's a red card in not knowing the full name of the witch I married. 

Ginny shrugs, "In the wizarding world? Hard to say. We either go simple or go all out. There is no standard, but if it's weird , I know I'd shorten it and never tell a soul—harder to curse someone that way too."

Suddenly a burst of green flames came from the fireplace, and the conversation that Hermione desperately wanted to avoid could finally be left behind. Her best friend comes stepping out of the flames with his grey auror uniform and messy hair covered in soot. 

James was the first to greet Harry, "Dad! Dad!" The toddler rushes up on him with the toy train still in his grip. 

Even Albus's head swivels to stare at the wizard who comes out of the fireplace. His bottle green eyes grow a little wider when recognizing the familiar face that belonged to his dad.

Hermione helps Albus sit up a little straighter so he could have a better view of Harry too. Ginny helps clean up any soot Harry tracked in with a spell. He looks over at the two women on the couch with an appreciative look, and smiles at Albus who spits up his teething toy and happily kicks his legs, again. Soon ready to walk right off of Hermione, but not yet there.

Harry picks up the toddler that runs straight for him then, "Did you have a good time with your grandmum?" He adjusts his own wooden frames that had slid down his nose for a split second.

He should really enchant those , Hermione silently added to her thoughts.

The toddler started to babble a bit about his day, and then showed off the train he had in his hand. It was only an inch from Harry's eyeball, "Look! I found it under the table!"

Hermione smiles warmly at the sight of Harry wanting to know everything about his son's day the second he comes through the fireplace. She always knew the one wish Harry had always ever wanted for as long as he could remember was a happy family— not fame or fortune. And, he finally had his wish.

Harry's eyes pretended to grow wide, while staring at the train that was being shown to him, "We were missing that last night, weren't we?" 

It was probably not missed at all. Harry was very skilled with the summoning charm even with a dragon breathing down his neck.

James looks down at it with a proud smile, his finger turns the wheel, "Yup, but I found it, Dad, don't worry!"

With James fixated on the train again, Harry looks back to the couch with an apologetic grin, "Sorry, I'm late, I had another Knockturn raid I had to oversee…" He explains to Ginny and Hermione quietly guesses to herself that the raid might have something to do with Rita's fake badge this morning. 

Harry then turns to Hermione, he doesn't exactly question why she was there, but instead for how long she was going to hang out with them tonight, "Are you staying for dinner? I'm planning to grill up some ham steaks. Gin and I got a decent size at the morning market Saturday, and you know Jamie isn't going to eat all of his, so we have enough." He then turns to his son, "Especially not those roasted French beans, right, Jamie-Bug?"

James shakes his head back and forth and scrunches up his little face in disgust, "Yuck! Don't want those nasty things,"

Ginny sighs, "Don't make me the bad guy here, Harry. He needs to start eating his greens!" She turns to Hermione to complain a bit, "And don't you start adding that I sound like mum, either! It's important for his growth, and we've been trying to get this boy to eat his veggies for the last two weeks…" She then eyes her son, "...but James has been cheating and using his magic to make it all disappear when I'm not looking. I've yet to find out where…" James pretended as if he didn't know what his mum was talking about, finding a lapel button on Harry's clothes more appealing than the talk of vegetables. "But at least not in the house. I looked around…"

"..." I'm sure you'll end up smelling it sooner or later.  

Harry still doesn't want to be the bad guy, even though he is the one that was going to be roasting and plating the dish to start with. He tries to help negotiate for his son, "Tell your mum that you want only a tiny amount of beans. A nice 'please' might do the trick!"

James helps by holding up his fingers to count, at first accidentally putting up three, but corrects himself by putting down an extra finger— his thumb , "Two beans only, pleeease! "

Ginny shakes her head from the couch, but still wears her smile, "I would like a little more than two, but…I'll tell you what….I'll make a deal with you, Jamie, if you take your bath tonight without any complaints, then we'll lower it to three beans—but you have to eat the rest of what's on your plate."

The boy finds the deal appealing enough and nods back to his mum, "Deal!"

Harry follows along with James' determined nod, "Nice one! Now be a big help for your dad. Go upstairs and grab your PJs. We'll get your bath out of the way before eating dinner, okay?" 

He finally sits the agreeable James back down to let the three old do his little task of gathering his own clothes. All three watch the boy climb up the stairs and toward his bedroom, and then Hermione looks back to Harry and explains she couldn't stay for long, not when Pansy was expecting her back soon, including telling Harry about how she dumped a bunch of plums on them.

Harry starts taking off his gray Auror robes,"Tell Pansy thanks from us. Never done much with plums before, but I'll figure it out—dessert should be the easiest, right?"

"If not, I'll ask Pansy what recipe book she's been using. I feel like I've had almost every plum dish under the sun since we got back from our holiday trip, which makes me think she really did some reading herself while in Portugal." 

Hermione avoids Ginny's stare while bringing up Pansy Parkinson once again. 

Harry started to roll up his shirt sleeve, and took off his shoes,"Speaking of Pansy, did she tell you if she'll be free Sunday?"

Ginny smiles, "Yeah, I was just asking Hermione that myself, Harry."

Hermione actually thought she was going to get out of answering that. 

"Um," With the eyes of both Harry and Ginny focused on her, Albus also leaned his head curiously back to see what all the fuss was about on his Aunt 'Mione's face. Hermione makes an uneasy smile knowing she couldn't so easily get out of it with so many people staring at her, "She hasn't said, but I'll get her to tell me before Friday."

"Cool. I told her it would be great if she was there." Harry didn't push Hermione further; he instead went off into the kitchen to prep everything before heading up to fill Jamie's bath.

Hermione's brow slowly wrinkles up as she starts to wonder what this huge announcement was going to be— a promotion? A retirement? A job transfer? Pregnant?! Oh, Merlin, Ginny is pregnant again, isn't she? But, she knew better than to ask. It had to wait until next Sunday, even if she was sitting on this possibility all week long. Hermione was not somebody that would ruin a surprise like that. She was a very good sport. When she wasn't in a bad mood that is. 

The quietness caused Ginny to eventually take Albus from Hermione, "Okay, my little philosopher, you're starting to slobber all over your aunt with all that deep thinking you're doing…"

"Ya—No! Mum-uh! No!" Albus didn't quite like the idea of Ginny taking his teething toy away from him, but whatever argument mum and baby were having it carried upstairs and away from Hermione. 

Hermione took this as an opportunity to get up off the couch and follow Harry into the kitchen. His back was facing the open doorway as he was taking pots and a skillet out from the cupboards. Harry's kitchen was simple and small. It had a little stove, a simple sink, but had a large refrigerator that was covered up by Ginny's growth chart. Scrawled enchanted ink in Ginny's handwriting scrolled across the board and in real-time Hermione watched one of James' tasks being circled in heavy red: Bath Time!

Hearing her footsteps, Harry peered over his shoulder and started to ask for Hermione to fetch the French cut beans that were still in the ice box. It didn't involve Hermione having to cook anything so she didn't mind helping out. 

She opened the top shelf of the refrigerator and scanned over the frozen foods for the veggies. Hermione recognizes a familiar frozen muggle brand among some of the wrapped meats and tub of ice cream. She pulled the bag of Birds Eye out of the freezer and sat it out onto the counter for Harry. The ice on the bag rapidly began to melt from the room temperature and created condensation. Hermione quickened the process by thawing the bag further with her own magic. 

Hermione looks back at Harry's side profile as he stands tall in front of the stove. 'Tall' was not really a word to describe Harry, especially when they had a best friend like Ron who towered over both of them with his long legs, but Harry was still a few inches taller than Hermione's own height. He placed a pot and skillet on the furnaces he was going to use, and even added water to the pot. With a muttering under his breath and using the wave of his wand, Harry began to boil the water and then in front of Hermione a knife magically began to quickly shave and cut a few rinsed potatoes into square chunks on a cutting board. The kitchen wasn't too busy, but it was lively enough that it brought Hermione comfort instead of anxiety. 

Harry began to hum to himself a little tune that he had to have made up on the fly while he drizzled cooking oil onto the skillet. He then moved away from the stove while his magic kept the fire tempered in order to personally grab a few spices from a turning rack. He thanked Hermione when noticing the veggies were ready to be cooked on the side. Hermione didn't care to pay too much attention to the rest of Harry's cooking and prepping process. She only knows that Harry was likely going to quickly sauté the French cut beans with olive oil and use an assortment of spices that would have made Ron sneeze if he had been there to witness it and boil some simple potatoes she guessed by the sight of them. 

Harry pushes his wooden frames up on his head and messy hair gets caught up in it, "So," He wipes his hands on a white cooking towel that suddenly hangs in the air in front of him, "Had a bit of…er , fun last night after we all left?"

Hermione could see there was an uplifted corner to his lips. It would be the perfect time for Harry to lecture Hermione for once as it was usually herself always doing it to him. 

She sighs, and places a hand on the counter; leaning her body a bit into it, "Don't. I already got the lecture from Veronica." 

And Hermione's pretty sure Veronica would still have loved to call her a few nasty words for waking her up for that bit of 'fun' too. 

Harry lightly laughs knowing enough about Veronica Pelican himself and what she might have said—or wished she could have said. He takes the cooking towel from the air and tosses it onto the counter next to him, "I guess if someone came to harass Gin like that—with what I assume was pretty bad based on you standing up for Pansy, I'd likely have lost my temper too." His head tilts slightly in thought, "Though all her brothers would've likely piled in as well, so that would have made a much larger scene for Veronica to clean up, I bet." 

Hermione keeps track of her best friend's movements as he busies himself in the kitchen while talking to her. Harry walks by her to start cutting into the ham steak packaging. 

She could imagine what Harry was talking about. Ron and his brothers were extremely protective of their little sister, but Hermione doubted Ginny needed the help. The professional chaser could slug it out or duel with the best of them. In fact, having grown up with six protective brothers probably gave Ginny that very confidence in the first place. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "You sure Ginny would even need the help?"

Harry lifts his head up from the ham steaks and Hermione could hear him chuckling again. He turns back around to face her with a growing smile, "You're right. She'd have given the guy her favorite bat-bogey hex…"

This time Hermione joins him with her own laughter. Hermione had several memories of Ginny casting her go-to hex. Whenever the younger Gryffindor girl would point her wand at someone, it would send several pale-faced Slytherins running or even betraying their very own to dodge behind instead and cover their nostrils. Those guys would never outwardly admit it, but they were a little scared of Ginny. 

"Yeah…she hasn't changed one bit, has she?"

But, the words that had just left Hermione's mouth caused her smile to falter instantly. Probably the very few that haven't shown any signs that the war changed them…unlike Ron, unlike Harry, unlike Pansy…unlike me. 

Harry hadn't noticed how Hermione had stopped laughing. There was still a soft smile on his own face as he began to think back about his Hogwarts sweetheart turned wife, "Sure, but she was a bit shy when we were kids, wasn't she? We never knew she was a bit of a firecracker. Used to only ever be Ron's shy little sister…"

Hermione tries to recover in order to disagree with Harry on that one, "No, that was all you, Mr. Oblivious. I've known your wife took after her mischievous brothers since day one—anything Ginny did she was able to blame it on her own brothers." To be fair, George and Fred already had a reputation that Ginny would use against them.

"Okay, partly my bad." Harry accepts his faults, "But, I've gotten better at seeing her, I think." 

He knows everything about Ginny— from her favorite flower, to why Ginny prefers to tie her right shoe laces first and how she'll feel weird about it if she ever started with the left and of course was very adamant in calling it a quirk and not just some stupid superstition of hers, to her favorite comfort food when she's sick…to things that Hermione and Ron couldn't even guess about Ginny themselves. He could just look at Ginny and the couple would have their very own private conversation in a noisy street. 

Hermione taps her finger lightly on the counter and ignores the bubbling thoughts about how she wants that, but might never have such a person in her life that she could know every little thing about, "Hmm, yeah, well in your line of work it's best you actually do use those eyeballs. I should even remind you to get your glasses enchanted so you don't end up losing them in a duel—better not lose your wand, either."

Suddenly his glasses came crashing down from his head and back onto the bridge of his nose.

Knowing that he was being cared for by the only sister he has ever known, Harry nods along to her nagging, while still wearing his soft smile and adjusting his frames for a third time that night, "Yeah, I will—keep my wand and glasses on, yeah." He then tells her he should likely start James' bath. "Unless…you have something to talk with me about?"

The reason why Hermione Granger likely appeared at his house in the first place with her flimsy excuse about plums. Hermione did wish she could open up to Harry and ask his opinion on the million questions and things that cross her mind for every waking hour she had about back then and now…

" Do you think that what I did back then was wrong? Everything I did for you …for us …was I wrong? Would we be different people if we didn't do half the things we did? Would I sleep better at night? Would I be married to Ron right now with a child of our own? Would you still have had James and Albus? Would Albus Dumbledore be alive? Would Severus Snape? Would Sirius? Or….the scariest question of all for Hermione that she didn't want a yes to, Would you be dead?"

No, there was only one question she could ask her best friend who had always been there for her even if it had just been a ' there, there ' when Hermione would cry into his shoulder about Ron, injustice and her own failures, and the sole person who had agreed with her about Marietta since all those years ago. 

"Do you think I should lift the hex I placed on Marietta back then?"

" Which one is different? Who did worse?" Hermione already knew her own answer. She just wanted to hear if Harry's own had changed. He forgave so many people. When Harry did his interview, was he even talking about Marietta Edgecombe?

Harry, who had thought Hermione's silence had meant she wasn't ready to share anything with him suddenly pauses at the kitchen doorway, and spins right back around to face her, "W-What brought this on?"

Hermione has always righteously stood by her own choices. She was lenient to those Harry forgave, but much like Ron, Hermione still had her doubts about the Malfoys, Notts, the Goyles and Flints. Only choosing to forgive those like Pansy Parkinson. But Marietta —a person that was supposed to be on Harry's side in the beginning?

"Which one is different? Who did worse?" Padma's words kept wanting to push Hermione's conscience and guilt— like it would somehow weaken Hermione's resolve. 

"A lot of things brought it up…" Hermione then partially revealed the truth as to why she was asking, " Someone mentioned it is all…" Padma Patil, "Wondering how I could forgive Pansy, but unable to lift the hex on Marietta after all these years."

Saying I should have been in Slytherin. That I have only ever adapted, but would end up revealing my true colors in the end—my scales. That I've already become my most twisted self. That the laughter and call for violence I hear inside my head isn't Bellatrix. It's my own madness. That animalistic rage that paces back and forth in my chest ready to tear through its cage…that's my rage. The scary thing that lurks in the back of my mind before I can get any sleep… It's just me. The fear that I'll only ever get worse not better. That I will lose control. That I will abandon everyone in the end and even turn against Pansy. That I will eat the world to recreate it to my ideals—where I'm judge, jury and executioner. I want to prove Padma wrong—that penetrating doubt wrong, but I am this person, aren't I?

" Which one is different? Who did worse?" The tyrant in Hermione just wants to shout back to Padma's words: Whatever I say it is! Selfishly cherry picking the black and white as she sees fit and deeming them as law. 

Harry was quiet at first. There was even a flash of something that crossed those bottle green eyes, but Hermione unfortunately couldn't read it, but she had a feeling that his answer— It's changed. 

Finally, he could only ask for further information, "Well, what did Pansy say?"

"What about Pansy?" Hermione's brow wrinkles in confusion. "Why bring her up?"

No, it was Hermione who thought of Pansy first and was the very reason behind her sudden hesitation for all the 'right' things she had committed in the past. Why, though? It's not like Pansy felt like apologizing to everyone she bullied. Or, maybe she did. I never asked. I don't know if she tried. It's not my business if she wrote an apologetic letter to Eloise Midgen who had the brains of a starfish (meaning lack thereof) in thinking blowing off zits was a safe idea.

"Because," Harry softly speaks, before his voice returns to normal, "If it was justifiable you would have never thought twice about what you did… maybe when we were kids, you'd ask if what we did was right, but it hasn't been that way in a long time, Hermione. Not in a long time. We learned the hard way that if we did something, there was no going back. So, the only catalyst, " That was an interesting word Harry was choosing to use there , "...is the witch you married. Had it been anyone else, I don't think we'd be talking about this, would we?"

Harry knew Hermione. He even knew her boggart—her most deep seated fear about failure. He knew what she was capable of, what she would be willing to sacrifice and what she would refuse to give in to. Having succumbed to the ill-effects of Salazar's locket turned Horcrux together, the Gryffindor trio knew first hand where they all fell short in life and showed the ugliest sides of themselves when wearing it. Of course, a cursed locket that was held close to the heart showed not the darkest sides of their moon, but their most twisted. Hermione hated wearing it. She didn't like how it made her feel. Made her doubt. Made her feel like a failure. Made her feel crazy. When wearing the locket, she refused to believe that was who she was—Ron stabbed the Horcrux with Godric's sword to prove he was no one's shadow. Harry knew. Ron knew. Hermione knew. So, if she didn't feel like lifting it after all this time, then she didn't care at all about Marietta's feelings. Her thoughts were self-centered and still self-righteous. Her dark thoughts about Marietta were still true and they were her own. Her decision of what she did back then would not change. 

" Which one is different? Who did worse?" No, to just stubbornly answer that it's whatever I deem it to be…that's just me giving in to a throbbing headache. It's far more complicated than that when living in a world that isn't black and white. 

Had it been about anyone else—if someone just asked Hermione why she would place Marietta in the same house as Umbridge, Hermione would not have bothered to even think about it. She would have stood on her soapbox and answered her righteous reasoning without deflating her own heart. 

But, Hermione wanted the words she expressed yesterday to become her new truth …That unlike herself, Hermione wanted to teach and show their own children to forgive those less privileged in being brave, smart, and kind. To let Pansy Parkinson know that Hermione forgives the lost little girl that she spoke to in the Great Hall. Hermione was able to sympathize with Pansy, but not Marietta because Hermione had witnessed it for herself of why Pansy wanted to hand over Harry instead of all the lives that piled up in that Great Hall. She can't ignore nor forget when Pansy looked up at her with a sense of loss and grief, 'I love her ' . And how Pansy still holds tightly to that grief, 'I miss her. ' She lost someone dear to her in that war, someone that could not be brought back from the dead like Hermione's own best friend could be. 

Pansy's grief and loss was none of Padma's business. 

Pansy should have had a gigantic fortress shielding her from such atrocities, and yet, the pampered heiress still had to witness the same things as Hermione—She suffered much like all of them. Pansy had been forced to watch children drown and die, and be unable to do anything about it. She felt weak. Powerless. She felt pain. Agonizing heartbreak. She felt sick. Sick to her stomach of what that night brought. She felt scared. Scared to die, scared to lose, and scared to watch.

Just like Hermione… just like Ron…just like Harry…

So, of course. Harry was right. This was about Pansy. Hermione's conversation last night with the witch had embedded itself into her thoughts and actions all day long. Hermione was starting to care about Pansy. The witch had already become one of her own . Maybe it was a Gryffidor thing, or maybe it was just a Hermione thing, but having already labeled Pansy as such, meant the witch was privy to her own protection—from herself , from others, from the ' good ' and from the ' bad '. 

" …if you deem it's right, then I'm with you…" 

I have to be responsible with Pansy following me down this path. I have to be certain of what I'm doing. I have to not only look out for myself, but Pansy as well. Because how else can Pansy have that confidence, if she couldn't rely and believe in me? My actions cannot wrong her. We're anchored together, but I won't let her sink with me.

Hermione frowns, "No, she hasn't said anything, but…that person who has been targeting me is adamant with using everything I've done against me…" That was not her being paranoid anymore. First Anthony and now even Padma has confirmed it enough to be true. "And, now I'm worried even more, because it's not just me anymore. I've dragged Pansy down with me…and now she'll be implemented too. All because I cursed RAT on some girl's forehead in our fifth year or shoved a journalist in a jar, or validly sent centaurs after a horrid woman, or…wanting to free elves and give them rights for another, because apparently that's a baffling concept for wizarding society in the twenty-first century to accept," Hermione put her hands up in the air out of frustration to her not knowing, "I don't know. I don't know what I did." There was so much more to list since those days,"I've incited jealousy and resentment in others apparently that I didn't even know about…it's not like I'm a mind reader..."

Hermione put her arms down then and looked absolutely helpless when confessing to how she was willing to give in to that person. Hermione did not look as confident as she had anymore when facing Padma Patil. The armor was shed in front of her best friend.

"… if this could just… putting aside in wanting to help the elves , because I certainly won't give in to that! But if it could be something that can be fixed…if I… admit …I was wrong or apologize or…" Hermoine shrugs then with another more likely example, "lifted some curse… and be forgiven, then maybe we," Pansy and Hermione "...could…move forward…somehow…maybe. Together. "

Together!? I DON'T KNOW! Merlin, why was that last part even harder to say? I feel like I'm about to have a stroke. Hermione examines the silver band on her ring finger as the half carat twinkles under the kitchen lights.  How much of a fantasy that was in order to move forward and actually be together…if I just let it go . No, Hermione probably wouldn't be allowed to just let it go anyways, she'd have to face what she's done. I've never really even moved on myself. To be able to heal from that time. I don't know what that's like. Pansy probably doesn't know what that's like, either. 

I have felt like I'm still stuck to the floor of Malfoy Manor for the last ten years. I have been haunted by the cackling laughter of a dead witch for the last ten years. I have been bitter for the last ten years because of it. For the last ten years, I have been lying awake in bed thinking about the war, about myself, about what we did…what Dumbledore did…about everything. To even think about the Hermione Granger that could be with Pansy Parkinson, and the Pansy Parkinson that could be with Hermione Granger. To be able to walk across that threshold in Moonvine to Pansy's side of the moon with no other reason besides just wanting to be there. 

Harry nods lightly in thought to what Hermione emotionally ranted about with her guilt for Pansy. "I know that feeling well, 'Mione. Having you guys put up with me for one and standing with me against Riddle for another. …especially the things you guys did for me… sacrificed for me …lost because of me…had to face with me… because of me…things you didn't have to do…"

Hermione didn't want to tell Harry she regrets any of it herself, because she couldn't. "You were never going to go it alone, Harry."

Ron's own voice at the age of twelve joined in behind those words, "Oh come off it, Harry. You don't think we'd let you go alone?"

A seventeen year old Hermione stood watching Harry's back, who was telling his best friends that they should get out now, because everything was going to get a whole lot worse, "We've had time, haven't we?"

Harry hears this, "I know. I know. You guys were there with me in the worst and happiest parts of my life and I appreciated it. So, I can't tell you what to do about Marietta. Not without losing what that meant for you to do for me." He sighs, still thinking about his answer that he couldn't give Hermione, "Sometimes—I've gotten better," He shrugs then, "but I've had my days, like you're having now. Dealing with things you'd rather shut out or not wanting the person in your life to see it… with what we did, should have done and didn't do , but can't change . Can't go back." Harry asks after some thought, "Do you want to know what I've learned during my recovery to get me out of that crippling guilt though?"

Right, unlike Hermione, Harry was the only one out of the trio to make actual steps forward after the war…learning how to heal and remain sober. He goes to the meetings. To stop drinking. To not feel alone. He talks. About himself. About the war. About Dumbledore.  He listens. To those he hurt. To those he loves. And, those aren't always separate things. He forgives. Himself. Others. He accepts. That it happened. What didn't happen. That he survived. That he lived. That he can be happy. That he can move on.

"What is it?" Hermione asks with eagerness, like it was somehow going to be this life changing cure-for-all. 

Neville said something about it once to her. "We knew our feelings for each other only came from a broken and desperate place, so we moved on—in order to truly move on and there were no hard feelings." Hermione didn't understand it, even though she nodded along like she did. Luna never told her. Hermione wouldn't understand it anyways, even if she plucked the courage to ask. She never really understood that witch's thoughts to start with, but maybe Pansy did? "I really am happy to see you two having found each other—especially Pansy—I don't think you need to search anymore, do you?"

When Hermione didn't have the answer—when she was the one flustered, when she was stuck in her box, when her failures would hold her down, it was Harry who was always able to eventually figure it out on his own and show her. So, maybe…he'll show her now?

Harry glances at a baby bib that had been tossed on the kitchen table at one point. It had little animated quidditch players flying about on a white background, and still having breakfast stains that hadn't been cleaned. It belonged to Albus. It once belonged to James. 

"Might not even be what you want to hear from me right now."

Hermione encourages him to be vulnerable with her, "Just say it, Harry."

His eyes slowly draw away from the bib and back up at Hermione's brown eyes that stare back at him as patiently as she could; like she was listening to a professor give her wisdom, "'Mione…over books and cleverness, was it really worth it?"

Without any hesitation or thought, Hermione blurted out, "Yes." 

Yes. It was worth it. In the name of friendship. It was worth it… Harry was worth it. For his world where good prevails and defeats evil…the only world that wasn't my own that I have ever dedicated my life to in protecting! 

Worth changing for…worth fighting for…worth giving in to….worth forgiving…

So, what was Harry getting at?

"You've always been the same, 'Mione…" Harry grins after hearing such confidence from her,"It's not that you've changed, it's not that there is anything bad about you." Hermione has done bad things, but she wasn't bad—she wasn't evil. "You're just stuck…you're the type like me that needs a purpose…someone to protect…a goal…an answer to find. It's time that you find something new that makes this all worth it. For me…that was James. That was Albus…my children…to be able to be the dad that I know my own would have been for me if he had the chance."

The one figure in Harry's life he wished he had in guiding him when there had only ever been the three of them—Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and where everyone else unfortunately fell short.

Someone worth changing for…worth fighting for…worth giving in to…worth forgiving for…It's time you found another world that you're willing to build, to love and protect. 

Hermione knew that, but…she suspiciously glares at him,"Are you pushing me to have kids?"

Harry laughs, sounding much like Sirius's own bark in that moment, throat exposed as he tilts his head slightly back and not at all afraid that Hermione might hex him in that moment, "No. Not at all. I'm just pushing you to live your life…how you've always lived, but in a different way now. Wherever that might lead you…"

If it leads her to new ideals…if leads her to Pansy…if it finally gets her off of that damn Malfoy floor…if it leads her to getting help…if she chooses to fix her wrongs...if it leads her to accepting her flaws and failures…if it leads Hermione to all the things that Harry himself had to overcome…if it leads her to being healed… If it leads her to being a better version of herself…if it leads her to moving forward and onward…

Hermione gruffly replies after that, "Well, I'll think about it." If only what he says was that easy.

As he walked out of the kitchen, his voice sounded further in the living room, "After you think about it or after you're through being stubborn about it?" He knew his own sister well enough, "In any case, can you take care of the french beans for me while you do that?"

"Honestly..." She rolled her eyes. And here Hermione thought she could avoid having to cook anything herself, but still…

I'll think about it. 

《——》

"Millie…" It's like a whisper, not wanting it to be heard, but it's still very loud in the empty manor. 

Pansy sits cross-legged on the floor in front of her nightstand. A false panel inside reveals a hidden shelf of her most precious treasures. From the few pictures of Millicent, Milo's old make-shift tactical map, and even to Hermione's confetti torn notes that Pansy had tried to pick up every little piece that she could after her dad tore it all up; all placed safely inside a lacquered little tea box. 

A finger lightly traces over the little square picture of a stern face of the Slytherin girl that looks up at Pansy. A numbness travels up from her legs and straight to her heart. The small cut-out now belongs solely to Pansy. There were days where she could go without Millie, but then something is said or reminds Pansy, and then the Slytherin girl bleeds right back into her life, coated in dark gunk and with a blooming curse in her throat. 

After the silence of staring at the picture, Pansy finally took the courage to talk to that stern face. "I kissed her for the first time today—three times, actually. Should I feel guilty for it being a selfish desire, and not that it actually helps our situation? Well, her kiss was…a bit more than mine, so I can't be stuck on any guilt. Leave it to Granger to be ambitious with any assignment given to her, right?"

There are no words to answer her. 

It was like Pansy was pretending she was back at Hogwarts; lying on a leather couch in the common room, flipping casually through her Witchteen magazine and yapping about her day while Millicent sat silent, taking it all in— or was she ever actually listening? 

Pansy never quizzed the girl on anything she said. She always just assumed that Millie was listening. The girl never told Pansy to stop. Millie was rude to others, but never to her. Even when Pansy was playing her part of a lovesick girl about Draco Malfoy—because that was something Daphne did all the time about Blaise—complain about boys, like boys, be obsessed with boys; all the right things for a young Pansy to say and do and Millicent never turned her back to Pansy to stick a finger down her throat to exaggerate a dislike for what was said, not like Tracey who did it when she thought Pansy wasn't looking. At least, I never caught Millicent doing it. 

Perhaps Millie's answer right now would be, " Right ." With what Pansy said about Hermione being ambitious with assignments. That made the most sense, but it lacked something. Pansy scrunches up her face at the memory of those days wishing that Millicent had just talked to her more, even if it was only a few syllables. Maybe then Pansy would have an actual idea on what Millie might say about all the witches she ever thought held a possible candle to her.

"I practically gave in to her ugly chair in the lounge…so nobody can say I manipulated her. Unless somebody says that I let her win. Then the answer is that I'm such a good wife…" Not at all that Pansy just lost to Hermione before it even began. " —the worst taste, by the way. You should see the chair. A bit like you in that regard…I know you won't like that comparison, but the two of you are a lot alike in that way—having zero sense for such things."

Here is where Millicent might curl her lips and disagree about ever being alike.

Pansy's voice then grew a little smaller to add a footnote to what she said, "A little bit."

The Slytherin girl wore the same style from first year to seventh year; dark trousers, sometimes dark skirts and dark robes. Millie liked comfort over fashion. The only reason her hairstyle changed was because it was more convenient to braid and keep it out of her face. Or, perhaps that was what Pansy had always preferred, and not that it was actually easy to manage. She once braided Millicent's hair in their second year, " I like the braid. You should keep it this way." Then ever since Millicent would braid her own hair every morning without any reminder from Pansy. 

Hermione was not fond of dark colors, but she was similar in never changing her style. Frumpy jumpers, muggle jeans, and anything comfy, unless it was work then it was a strict dress code. The only time Hermione seems to step out of her comfort zone was dressing up, and that was only if she felt like it and loved what she was wearing. Hermione is dazzling when she is under enchanted lights and confidently swirling across the dance floor, and Pansy knows the bright witch was not a real wallflower. 

Yeah , that's a jarring difference between the two, Pansy thinks. 

Millicent needed to be forced to dress up, which meant a lot of whining and robe tossing from Pansy at the Hogsmeade shoppes until she was satisfied that Millicent was ready for the Yule Ball and not wearing some ugly old handy-down robes from a family member. And, even though the Slytherin girl actually knew how to dance, not stomping about like Goyle or Crabbe , Millie actually loathed dancing. Even when Pansy would practice with her back at Hogwarts. She'd do it, but with an ugly face. Never saying no to Pansy, but there had to have been an impulsive part of Millicent that wanted to pulverize Pansy into dust for that one. 

Hermione Granger loves to dance. The first time she saw Hermione dancing was at the Yule Ball. Practically floating across the stone floors with ugly Viktor Krum with that beautiful smile and periwinkle dress that captured the eyes of everyone and everything, and Hermione was the happiest she had ever looked. Fourteen year old Pansy, sulkingly, knew that— hated that. Draco couldn't take his eyes off her. Ron couldn't take his eyes off her. Viktor couldn't take his eyes off her. I couldn't take my eyes off her! Which unilaterally made Millicent give Hermione the stink-eye and the waited permission to sock the bright witch in the face and ruin the Gryffindor girl's night. Weasley did that all on his own though. No Slytherin had to lift a finger. Hermione might have come in with Viktor Krum taking her hand in front of the whole school, but everyone heard how she fled the night in tears alone because of Ronald Weasley. 

Had Pansy known that Hermione was whom the Bulgarian professional quidditch player would ask to Yule, Pansy would have never helped the guy with his poor English in the first place— well, she can't go acting like she ever actually spoke with the wizard…. There had been a middle man who knew her family background that did the learning in the champion's stead and paid the sickles, but she knew it was for him. He was always awkwardly standing a throw stone away scowling at her. Viktor Krum didn't want to be seen with such a rude little girl to teach him. Pansy was livid at not having realized Viktor was asking about books because he wanted to chat it up with Hermione Granger! The entire time she thought it was just some pretty Ravenclaw girl that caught the professional seeker's eye!

If Pansy had to mark her awakening it would have been watching Hermione Granger dance in that periwinkle dress and where she felt her heart flutter. Before that Pansy was just a walking and talking obtuse dingus, because Hermione had a point; collecting only Morgana trading cards was really pushing it at age eleven with baps like Morgana Le Fay in front of her face all the time.  

Pansy had, in her earliest stages of denial , blamed Hermione for stealing Draco's attention—and that all that fluttering in her chest was heartburn. Pansy didn't actually even like her boyfriend to start with, but she kept telling herself and anyone who would listen to her complaints that it was the principle of Draco looking elsewhere and not the date he came with! There was no honesty about why Pansy was upset with the lanky vulture masquerading as a 'Professional-Seeker-Turned-Durmstrang-Champion' that she refused to say the name of despite that being an absolute mouthful. It wasn't until Pansy had to face reality—her reality being woken up from a 'nightmare' that was actually about her dawning sexuality. It was a very dull, "Oh, fuck me." moment. Followed by seeing emerald green after Daphne slapped a pillow in Pansy's face, "Yeah, if I was Morag just now, you'd be dead!" Not knowing how true those words could be in young Pansy's situation if anyone in her house found out she was a witch lover. 

Only Millicent knew how upset Pansy had been and how she spent the remainder of her winter holiday rolling across her bed and swearing to Morgana that she would get Granger good for what she did. There had been a lot of angry 'Granger this' and 'Granger that' . It was getting to the point that it was more annoying than Draco moaning about Harry Potter. And of course, Pansy made sure the entire world—that was subscribed to Witch Weekly magazine that is, knew that Hermione was skilled in brewing love potions and was a total two-timer! Leave it to fourteen year old Pansy to act like a so-called victim just because she might like a girl—not just any girl either, but Hermione Granger. 

It wasn't her first tantrum either about Hermione's choice in dates. She did the same rolling across the bed when she found out Hermione was going to go to Slughorn's Christmas Party with Cormac McLaggen their sixth year. "That guy? Him!? Did those lines work on you, Granger? Or did he only use those lines for girls like me!?" —it just had to be the same Nogtail who tried to get Pansy into a broom closet just two weeks prior by saying his family name was not only 'big' in the Ministry, but elsewhere too while not at all subtly pointing at his crotch! "Malfoy won't mind if you give it a try with that mouth of yours, right?" 

"You're an absolute Nogtail—no, I'm sure demon pigs are less repulsive than you." Where was an albino bloodhound when you needed one to chase this one away?

"No need to be a bitch...how about I just see your tits?" The repugnant Gryffindor didn't see any tits, besides the birds that he was probably seeing flying around his head by the time Millicent was through with him. Absolutely delusional to think he could have a secret rendezvous with Pansy Parkinson. 

Hermione didn't have just the worst taste in style, she had the worst taste in general! Fuck Hermione. No, fuck me. Once again, sixteen year old Pansy acted like the so-called victim to that when it was Ronald Weasley that Hermione was trying to make jealous, but he was too busy eating Lavender Brown's face off back then to care probably.

Pansy coughs as if she might have sucked in dust from the cupboard, " Okaaay...so maybe there are a lot of things between the two of you that are different. Hermione has terrible tastes, at least you know better than to go with someone that horrid. "

Pansy's silk robe slid off one shoulder, showing a glimpse of creamy skin with pink blush. She doesn't know how Millicent would react here. Would she nod along to that? Or, would Millie shrug with, "Well, there was you." No, that was just Pansy talking with Millie's voice, but liking Pansy Parkinson was a terrible thing, wasn't it? Millicent didn't know any better did she? If Millie had any taste then, she'd tell me to go fuck myself. Pulverize me into dust. I deserve that. I deserve a whole lot worse than becoming dust for how I treated Millicent.

It was ironic really for anyone to call Hermione the substitute… It was her name that left my mouth, never yours. I never meant…I didn't know…you never said…you only said it was okay—you never said anything else. You never fought with me. You never told me anything, did you? Now, that's my whole issue—that's what's wrong with me. 

"…where does one love end and the other begins? I've mangled everything up about you two, haven't I?"

The silence without Millicent became the heartbreaking reminder again that the girl isn't there to comfort or reassure her. Pansy rubs her lips together and suddenly feels even more alone and a little cold. She adjusts the house robe and tugs it back over her shoulders and lets out a shaky breath. 

"If only you could talk to me…" It's a soft whisper again, but she's begging Millicent—begging the Millicent in the picture to just talk to her. Her eyes water and tear up knowing that she couldn't hear her dear friend ever again. "…I can write letters that don't fly anywhere, I can apologize to the air…I can look at a picture…I can dream of you…I can sit in front of your tombstone just like this…I can sit there and talk as much as I want, but I can't hear you."

Part of Pansy wants to play the victim again now as an adult. She wants to throw her childish tantrums about Millicent leaving her! To toss everything back into the nightstand, slam and lock it shut and never peek inside again! Just act exactly how a young Pansy used to kick her trunk closed, crawl onto her four poster bed and scream into her pillow—occasionally to lift her head up of course; not just for air, but to see if Millie would ask her what's wrong so that Pansy could rant to at least someone who cared—usually it was Daphne shouting to Pansy in the background to knock off the screaming and to get it over with so they could all just suffer the same 'inconvenience ' that had graced the kitchenware princess's life. Putting up with a pissed off Pansy Parkinson was a very normal thing that all of the girls in her dorm had to deal with, but Millicent took the brunt of it. 

Pansy can't even do that now. There would be no dip in the bed, a stern face that tries to soften, or Pansy telling the girl from the pillow to comfort her and make the tears stop. Millie, who looked nothing like the person Pansy wished for, but had always been devoted to her regardless of that, didn't deserve Pansy getting mad at her. Millicent lost her life in protecting Pansy and so many children. Pansy was no victim. It was all her fault. Millie held Pansy back from the collapsed tunnel as kids on the other side had long gone silent and the water began to rise higher on their own side. There were too many of them. Millie's cold words were pressed into her ear, "We can't stay." Pansy was comforting a child tightly into her, refusing to let him go. She could feel the tug of Millicent wanting to apparate the two of them out alone. Her head had swiveled in the small space, "Millie. No, I need you here. Please, please, please! Find another way!" She was the one that was too weak and useless to do anything herself. She needed Millicent to stay and help. For the Slytherin girl to go against her instincts for self-preservation. And, Millie died for it. For her. Because she asked her to stay. To get them out. To protect them from the Death Eaters. She could never be mad at Millicent. Millicent never left her. She can't be frustrated just because she can't hear from Millie...The girl had done so much for Pansy. 

Pansy calms herself again, letting her finger brush over Millie's face. She's the raving idiot, talking to someone that isn't here and crying about something that can't be made better. In the past, if she ever looked like an idiot, Millicent would be sure the other person would be thinking about their own problems rather than what Pansy said or did. She wishes that could be the same as now even though Millie isn't here.

When those brown eyes were caught in that day-breaking light in the Great Hall from where Pansy sat holding Millie, they turned to amber, a shade brighter than Millie's copper, and two girls— one dead and one alive — had their words overlap as if to create some sort of sign for a desperate Pansy Parkinson. Millie left it to Hermione. Yeah, it always cycles like that when thinking of what happened to you. That while you might have left me, you still left something behind for me. To find you. To meet her. A piece of you. A part of her. Then I won't have to keep desperately calling out to a girl who can't answer me anymore. I can just look at Hermione. I can talk to her. I can share my days with her. I can tell Hermione all the things I never got to tell Millie. That I would never tell Daphne or Blaise. I can finally tell Hermione all the things I always wanted to tell her. Someday. Maybe. If Hermione wants to see me…know me…I won't take it for granted the second time around. I promise, Millie. 

She places the small cut-out picture of Millie with the rest. Her starry green was unable to break away from it, but Pansy knew that one day in order to love Hermione, it would have to be done . Letting Millie finally go…to let the girl rest in knowing Pansy was going to be okay without her. Pansy takes a deep breath and closes her eyes to sort and fix her emotions, so Hermione doesn't come back and find evidence of her crying about Millicent again. 

But, then she heard the roar of a fire and that echoing call that carried around the manor, "Calling Parkinson Plum Manor…from Parkinson Circlet," A lazy enunciation in each word that made the voice familiar, and nauseating. 

Her eyes opened again. Pansy instantly shed away her vulnerability and her pretty features wore a look of annoyance and disgust instead. She closed the bottom cupboard of her nightstand and locked it. Her hand falls away from the wooden door.

Boyan Parkinson.

"No. Don't Answer." She coldly told the manor to cancel the floo call. Her magic buzzed over her skin and created goosebumps. The manor at her command snuffed out the fire in the guest parlour downstairs. 

Out of all her cousins, Boyan was the worst, but that bar was extremely low for Pansy when it came to any of her cousins' greed to begin with. Despite his efforts over the years to be acknowledged by their grandfather, Boyan's chances for the inheritance were also just as low, but that just meant his hate for Pansy was astronomically high. 

Ever heard of a bully being a victim to bullying? Well, Boyan was Pansy's bully. 

Hearing his voice was an abhorrent reminder of childhood family dinners of being harrassed by him. Boyan at the time, with a voice that had yet to drop, would tell the adults that he was only playing with Pansy and that he would never play rough with a girl, despite having wrestled with her straight into a thorn bush and getting them both scratched up or even having Pansy bawling to her mum with teeth marks and bruises all over her arms to prove otherwise. Boyan was the real reason there was a 'Boy's Only ' rule initiated for every rough game her cousins played, because he would target her specifically, unless he had bad intentions of causing an accident, then he would say it was unfair that Pansy couldn't play and would try to get her into playing with them. 

If Boyan was being nice to her it wasn't ever a good thing...

Pansy didn't have to deal with Boyan much after he was shipped off to Durmstrang Institute for eight years with his brothers. But, instead of becoming a serial killer with vast knowledge of the Dark Arts that he used to brag about compared to what was taught at Hogwarts, Boyan surprisingly became an enchanted painter after graduation. While those two hobbies can still align, Boyan being an artist was not something Pansy ever thought her cousin would ever be. Serial Killer? Yes. Painter? No. Even when he was notorious for getting caught sketching naked women on the napkins when he was a teen, from the glimpses of what Pansy was able to see before her uptight aunt would burn the paper women, her cousin wasn't all that talented.

Anyone could draw a pair of tits, honestly… Though that might just be Pansy not wanting to acknowledge her cousin's talent. 

Of course, there were still the summer and winter holidays of having to deal with Boyan and his nasty jibes under his breath. The one Pansy always remembers is when he would hold the gleaming steak knife and dig roughly into a blood soaked steak while his eyes preyed on Pansy and grunting, "Bit of a bitch to cut, innit?" Always said as a joke, but Pansy knew she was supposed to be that dead cow. Boyan hadn't said that overused joke since Millicent was invited for Christmas during sixth year and the girl embedded her own sharp Parkinson knife into the table only a centimeter from his own skin. Millie gruffly replied when she pulled it out of the table, "Just a bit." Boyan had to have someone clear his windpipe for that, as he was so scared, he choked on a cube of steak.

Pansy doesn't even know why Boyan even thought he would have gotten away with his overused joke when Millie had already taught him a lesson the first time they met two summers prior. The girl snapped his wand in half when the wizard wanted to show off the curses that they were teaching at Durmstrang and tried to make Pansy his target of choice. Likely underestimating Millicent's intelligence, but never did he do that again. 

Why did he even want to harass me at this hour anyways? 

Boyan wasn't the only one that called this evening. Rumen. Georgi. Ivalo. Borti. All of her cousins have called. After reading the evening papers she suspects. They were already blacklisted from the post, but now Pansy had to make time at some point to blacklist every property that the men owned through the Floo Network.  

The three sons of her dad's middle brother: Ivalo— Ivo to his friends only, Boyan and Rumen all hated her with a passion in their own ways. The unified hatred likely came from Second Uncle Bogdan who had a complex himself if Pansy was being honest, but Ivalo had the actual brains to remember Millicent's wrath and her grandfather's watchful eye; the wizard never did anything malicious unless he was confident in not getting caught. So, when Ivalo called it was likely testing the waters with Hermione unlike his younger brothers who were definitely calling to threaten and extort Pansy. 

Georgi, the youngest son of her father's own youngest brother, would be calling only out of pretend concern for what he heard on the wireless while trying to get something out of Pansy. Even with Millie gone, his scrawny ass was not a real threat to Pansy as long as there was no signs of him trying to team up with his own brother. Georgi would at least be the first one to cry at her heels and beg for forgiveness if she ever caught him, but that doesn't mean she trusts him to stay that way. As he was—and this was straight from the mouth of his drunk ex boyfriend Justin Finch-Fletchley, "Curse that two-faced lying scum—just fell right on him, huh? I hope your cousin trips over every scraggly crack he comes across and has a good snog with the concrete!" And, yes, Georgi was cursed to cautiously step over every crack he finds in front of him from then on. 

Borimir II, Borti as the family always called him, would use his floo call as an excuse of wanting to catch up on old times in order to scope things out. Borti was Georgi's older brother, but was also her Third Uncle's teenage mistake, so he was around the same age as Ivalo, Mihael and Milomir. When they were all kids, Borti lived with his mum, but would be sent off to his dad's every summer and invited to family events. Her Third Uncle Petar did the bare minimum of raising Borti if Pansy had to be honest, so Georgi and Borti were thankfully not as close as Boyan and Rumen were to ever actually team up. This treatment wasn't because Borti was a bastard really, but since he had to earn the inheritance like everyone else, Pansy's Third Uncle had his cards passively set on Georgi who was raised in his own household—which was obviously a bad hand to play either way for her Uncle Petar, because Borti's tactics on how to win the inheritance was different from all the others' attempts. When it dawned on her of what his plan was, it made Pansy wary and uncomfortable of him ever since, but in the opposite way of Boyan. 

One had psychopathic tendencies, but the other was just a fucking creep. With Boyan, I'd have to check for poison if the wizard ever seemed nice enough to serve me tea, but with Borti…I need to be on guard for any love potions that the older wizard might slip my way. 

Just last year at their grandfather's birthday feast, Borti in front of the entire family tried to flirt and be grabby with Pansy. His excuse had been that it had been a few years since he had last seen her— not recognizing a cousin was the bane of the wizarding world's dating pool after all. But, Borti knew who Pansy was from the start. Pansy was already in every popular magazine and advertisement thanks to Hermione, and couldn't be confused with any other witch. If that wasn't bad enough, Borti was already married when that all went down. So, yeah, Borti was scum of the scum in trying to go the incest route for the inheritance!

The only ones who hadn't harassed her with calls and owls were her own brothers. If they were interested in attacking her like the rest of them, Pansy hadn't heard from either. 

Obviously, Milomir wouldn't dare. He hasn't asked her for money since Millie took a fist to his guts, and now her brother kept his distance; more like a stranger than family. Milo was probably off doing whatever it is that he gets up to that shames the family name—he was never disowned or anything like that. Milo would still show up when called by their mum or dad, but with only a knut to his own vault after being cut-off, Milo was likely off  'finding himself' with a minor offense from the MLE for swiping valuable items and pawning them in Knockturn Alley. It was a shame really that he went down such a path, because Milo was bright, but now only ever uses his strategic skills and impressive magic for petty theft and counting cards—the rest of his talents was his own shit luck on every bet he made in sports. 

Unlike the rest of them, Mihael's plans to try and be acknowledged by their grandfather was through the work he did at the company, so Mihael didn't need or have the time to harass his little sister. If she ever wanted Mihael to contact her, Pansy had to make an appointment with his assistant, and even then there were far more important things in front of him than to owl his own little sister. He hadn't always been like that. Mihael was always the one to lift her up on his shoulders to pick the plums, he was the first to grab her hand on a busy street, the first one to pick her up after a fall, the one who taught her cursive, and read his medieval fantasy books to her during bedtime—then it all changed. He grew up and closed her out. 

If she closes her eyes, Pansy could still hear the slapping of Milomir's bare feet on the hardwood floors running up and down these hallways; his newest plan to spend a rainy afternoon with his siblings was flying kites indoors.  

She remembered the paper kite was made by hand and her brothers had let her decorate it with drawings of squiggly flowers and fluffy clouds. The family's hellhound barked alongside Milo, his neon yellow tongue hanging out of his mouth as he chased right at the boy's heels. A little Pansy watched with interest as the paper kite scraped over the ceiling as it was lifted up by her older brothers' magic rather than any wind in the manor. Mihael was at the tail end of the hall standing on the stairs that was the second access to the owlry. In Pansy's memories he had warned his fraternal twin, "Careful, Milo! That's Gram's old scrying orb—" A table wobbled and then the three heard the crash of crystal breaking at their feet. Three little fingers pointed straight at their dad's prized hellhound when their anxious mum heard the noise and rushed out from her enchanting room. "Cletus did it!" Mum never believed it with Cletus's silly neon grin and stubby tail that wiggled his whole butt. But, we were always a team. Until we weren't. 

Pansy just hopes that her brothers won't betray her like her dad thinks. She can't fully trust in that, but it would be quite the blow to the hope she still had left for both of them. She began to rub her fingers over the hem of her silk sleep robe in thought. Her eyes on the locked nightstand. Another green fire abruptly starts from just a room away—a new location was calling, the Parkinson Ancestral Manor. 

The voice was her dad's. A seed of uneasiness starts to form in her heart now with having to get a floo call from him too. With a furrowed brow, she apparates from the primary bedroom and pops right in front of the fire to answer it. 

The impatient face of Igor Parkinson appears in front of her, "Finally. Do any of my children answer an owl or the damn floo around here? Ivo finally reached Mihael—they're there now. Who the hell knows where Milomir went off too—can't ever reach that boy."

Pansy frowns and with arms crossed after wrapping her robes over her front, she interrupts her dad's grumblings,"What's wrong—there where?"

Her dad was quick at getting straight to the point at least, "Your grandfather was sent to St. Mungo's. It's not looking good. I'm gathering some things for him now at his home…you need to get there. Do you understand?"

Do you understand? Do you know what is happening? His voice carries away from her own ears at that moment. 

There was a painful thump against her ribcage. It was the second worst thing to hear about her own grandfather, especially at his age. Pansy wasn't naive. She knew how those words start off and how they end. Pansy felt like she was standing over a trap door that was about to open up and swallow her. There were so many questions and panic that ran through her head—How serious? Is he okay….No. No. What happened…No. No. Should we go? Should I even be there? Is it really that serious? Who is all there? Should I bring anything? No. No. This can't be happening!

Pansy suddenly felt numb all over, but her mouth still moved and words fell out. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

It was only seconds after that when Hermione appeared. Coming up the same steps that Pansy was coming down. The floo network to the manor seemed to have been busy and blocking her connection to the fireplace, but Hermione was finally able to return home from the Potter's fireplace and that was why she was late. The two met halfway on the stairs—Pansy rushing straight into the other witch with shoes in hand. Hermione had to hold out her arms with caution in case Pansy, who hadn't been paying attention, would crash into her. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" Hermione notices Pansy's usual mask was cracking and revealing that vulnerable heiress that didn't have any real power, only the broken fragments of a destroyed fort. 

There was a pink tinge to the edges of her eyes. Pansy was carrying shoes that were not her house slippers and her blackthorn wand was held tightly in her other hand. Hermione's own muscle tenses up as if to prepare for the unexpected fight that must be coming up right behind the pretty witch. But, there was no chase. There were no Death Eaters. There was no one attacking Pansy. Hermione's shoulder slowly relaxed, but Pansy did not. 

"My grandfather was---he was sent to the hospital. I don't know how long, but everyone has been calling and I just now answered."

Pansy is still on autopilot. Everything she says is right if only a bit rushed, but her emotions on her pretty face tell an entirely different scenario that must be happening inside her head. 

"How—" Hermione decided she shouldn't ask a visually overwhelmed and flustered Pansy about her grandfather at this critical moment, "I'll go with you, I'll take us there," She noticed that Pansy was still in her little beige slip and house robe. "Let's grab clothes first, and then we'll leave—we can't leave the house like this, okay?" Hermione was right to assume that Pansy wasn't thinking about anything else but her grandfather's well being. 

Pansy has no script here on what to say back to Hermione. She can only blink her starry green eyes. She doesn't move or even summon clothes. Her thoughts were still in a panic, No, there isn't time. We have to go now! What if it's serious? We have to be there.You don't understand. You don't know. This is exactly what they want! This is exactly where it all starts! They've all become impatient these last few months with me…as if they could just tell that it was time. I don't want it to be time, but it's approaching faster than I would like. 

Igor's words from months back coldly reminded his daughter that this was always coming, and she had very little to fight back with, "I hope you're prepared for what comes after, Panteley, once your brothers and cousins learn of this, they won't sit idle to the news, and there is no Millicent at your side for them to be afraid of anymore… "

No, Millicent isn't here, Pansy had to agree with her dad's cold words, but there was still a way to keep them all in line. I still have Hermione Granger, and as long as she remains by my side even as my nominal wife, my cousins have to stay cautious. If it ever came down to it, Hermione could win a duel against Boyan and Ivalo every time—Dark Arts be damned, she took down Death Eaters and helped save the wizarding world from a dark wizard!

The thought of her family surrounding her grandfather on his sick bed while they secretly counted his last days and salivated over that damn inheritance made Pansy start to boil with rage. The urge to walk in there to break apart that hungry circle suddenly intensified. Pansy tries to embolden herself further by imagining herself creasing Boyan's leather shoes and grabbing Georgi by the back of the neck to drag him over a crack in the floor. The imagery helped ease her anxiety in order to get a hold of herself. She could handle them. She could do this. And, everything was going to work out!

Pansy didn't spend seven years in Slytherin to be outplayed by sniveling manbabies. There was a lot of sarcasm that Pansy would love to say about Narcissa Malfoy, but the older witch taught her plenty of life lessons too. During the war, Narcissa was always able to appear as a cold-blooded bitch even if under that very facade the woman was always on the verge of having a mental breakdown. Pansy wanted to channel that same energy. The way one presents themselves reveals the amount of power one still holds in that scenario—even if it was fake no one can see that Pansy was dying on the inside. 

Hermione is starting to summon clothes that she remembers Pansy wore in the past, but a hand reaches up and stops her hand movements. Her hand seems to feel cold as it presses against Hermione's warm and tan skin. It's still so addicting to feel such a comfort while in such duress, but there was no time to think about wrapping herself in Hermione's arms right now.

"No. Just change the length for me," Pansy emotionally can't cast magic right now without the possibility of ruining the slip herself. "It can look like a babydoll dress for a little while—" Hermione might not know what a babydoll is, "My mid-thigh should be good enough." Those that will have issues about her inappropriate attire shouldn't say anything in the presence of Hermione Granger. "We need to hurry…I don't know how serious it might be, but I'd rather just be there in case…" 

In case what? I don't know. I don't want to think about that. I just can't trust them to be alone with him!

Hermione doesn't ask questions if this might ruin the enchantments after attending Pansy's 101 on textile magic yesterday morning, she just quickly does as her wife asks. The hem of the slip that had just been above Pansy's thighs grows down to the mid-thigh and turns into a chic dress and her house robes cover the rest just fine. In the wizarding world all sorts of robes were still fashionable and Pansy would hardly stand out in a silk house robe. They would all just think she was some pretentious nouveau riche heiress— what else was new? And an anti-gravity spell will hold her tits up and from going anywhere, so don't bother to even think about that. No time to even think about what she even looks like. Her grandfather's well being was far more important to her right now. 

Pansy used Hermione's shoulder to quickly put on the straps of her shoes and then the two left in a rush; twisting and spinning together through the fabrics of space and time to reach St. Mungo's quickly. Only the sound of a 'pop' had been left behind from Hermione's apparition in the quiet Plum Manor. 

Chapter Text

12th of December, 2006 1:23 P.M.:

Hermione didn't want to sit by the window, but all the other tables were filled for lunch. The restaurant, Clavier, was dated, but loved by the locals and old businessmen. To Hermione's knowledge the place hadn't played any music since the early 90's so the old clavichord up on the restaurant's stage was just collecting dust if that wasn't a health code violation, so Clavier was just that—a name .

Even her parents love this place or maybe it was her grandparents that loved this place… ?

Okay, honestly, maybe no one in my family actually loved it, but it was one of the only traditions us Grangers followed when my grandparents would come and visit from their many travels. As the last Granger still here I just don't have it in me to stop coming.

Hermione couldn't stand still in her childhood home without hyperventilating about what she did, but she could sit in an old worn out chair and order off the same menu as her parents had twenty years ago. That was no problem.  

The current reasoning that Hermione was sticking with as to why she was even here in the first place when there was nothing to celebrate and no grandparents anymore to greet, was because it was out of a wizard's way. That's it. Nothing special. Making Clavier the perfect place to meet Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione was the first one there tapping her fingers lightly on a white tablecloth while waiting. The pretty witch was running late to their meeting time, because of course Pansy was. Hermione—ever punctual if not excusable, pushed back her beige trench coat sleeve to read the time on her wrist watch . 

Over ten minutes late. 

She had ordered lemon water, but had kept replying to the waiter who would hover over her and refill it occasionally, "Still waiting. She should be here soon."  

And, I should definitely head to the toilet after this. 

Hermione didn't think the two would stay long enough to order her usual Shepherd's Pie, so she didn't want to bother with the guy or make any eye contact. She hadn't even taken off her coat which should be a clear sign to everyone that she wasn't sticking around.

The waiter kept looking at her pitifully every time he wandered by despite her unapproachable resting scowl. Likely believing Hermione was just embarrassed about being stood up on a Tuesday afternoon. Poor me to be stood up….in the middle of a work week, huh? Hermione snorts rather annoyed. You can't possibly think this is a date, this is clearly business!

She wants him to mind his own business, but refrains from vocally telling the waiter to get lost like she's some grumpy old woman. My heart isn't going to break over Pansy Parkinson of all women to start with!  Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, and deny that little muscle twinge in her heart to say otherwise. 

Honestly, my heart should instead be anxious about the fact I have four seedy places in Knockturn Alley that I have to inspect today—which I just know is going to go absolutely awry with the shop owners not wanting to pay their fines and compensate their elves for unpaid overtime. One place just has to sell cursed daggers, second-hand wands and medieval broadswords— ill-gotten goods, no doubt. Hermione's recent hire this morning, Silversmith, was up front about refusing to enter the establishment after reading off the report to her, because…as Silversmith said, "No offense, Head Granger, but getting stabbed by a purist lunatic wasn't in the job description— " Hermione didn't think she had to list that, because that just came with the occupation of any ministry employee, but listening to the young wizard rant on about it had made Hermione wish she didn't accept the day off for her other more competent subordinate, Rivers, Did she really need to go buy that new broom today of all days? "— insulted, yeah, a bit. But assaulted ? I don't think I want to be." Nobody wants to be assaulted, Silversmith! So, the possibility of me getting almost stabbed today is something to be far more concerned about than Pansy Parkinson standing me up. 

Hermione takes a sip of her lemon water then. Well, that isn't entirely true. She should be anxious with Pansy not showing up at all to their agreed upon time and place. 

The business with Pansy was supposed to be giving Hermione paperwork to sign in order for Pansy to continue having access to her maiden vault. The money moving back and forth from one vault to another was starting to raise suspicious activity with the goblins. Prompting one of them—Horvat, Hermione thinks his name was, to invite the heiress in for tea to ask questions. 

With any authority it was a polite way of telling someone they were going to be either scolded or rewarded. Pansy Parkinson was likely more often the former than the latter. The pretty witch had been wary of having to meet Horvat and the first thing Pansy did was owl Hermione. 

She can't blame Pansy. If Hermione got that letter, she would be freaking out too, but Hermione reassured Pansy that she didn't need to be scared of the goblins. The two hadn't done anything illegal… at least at the bank they weren't doing anything illegal, which was a completely separate entity to the ministry. No money, heirlooms or magical items were being stolen, the transfer tax fees were being paid for in large amounts, and Pansy was aware that her money was not being funneled into some illegal crime ring. Hermione has never even stepped foot inside that maiden vault!

A thought did cross Hermione's mind at the time though about how the goblins probably wouldn't want Hermione Granger's grubby little hands inside another maiden vault to start with— after freeing their mistreated dragon, goblins would hold a nasty grudge…wouldn't they?

Hermione unfortunately still needed the money to pique interests in order to help her pass her policies that were going through the Wizengamot. That was their bait and switch operation. Show off the money, but never give the money. That might be a scam to some, but it wasn't a crime to her as far as she was concerned. Hermione doesn't promise them anything—Those greedy bastards are the ones that assume they could 'profit' off of her office as they believed Pansy Parkinson was doing, and that was all on them. They only receive a polite handshake of her thanking them for cooperating with her out of the kindness of their hearts for their contribution for the rights and freedom of house elves, which is what she does for everyone on the Wizengamot when a policy or law is passed. 

How embarrassing it must be that two twenty-something witches easily out-played an old and corrupt politician into helping her out? Serves them right after what they tried to do to me! Those guys can't even owl the authorities after they got scammed out of committing money crimes. 

The only gold Pansy spent outside of the Elf Welfare Office for Hermione was for the shadowban. Hermione would never just take anything from the heiress that she couldn't afford to give back in value either, and for that she was able to get Pansy Parkinson a guest spot on several popular wireless shows of her choice and a Bluebottle advertisement slot at the most highly anticipated quidditch game of the year that could be valued roughly the same—That was according to Ron whom Hermione inquired with when secretly scoping out the best visual traffic for the model. Her best friend in the Magical Games Department turned out to be right, because Pansy was pleased with the results. The model had been wanting to build a family-friendly portfolio for quite awhile, but her previous modeling work still kept her from being signed without Hermione backdooring her in. 

The news from Horvat had the kitchenware princess go from anxious to being very upset with Hermione in her letter with the inconvenience of being denied access to her own vault and gold.

'And, why don't YOU get an owl and be iced out? Your vault is involved too!' 

Hermione had to write and remind Pansy that a maiden vault had a higher and tight security system than her own, even more so if Pansy was using an ancestor's maiden vault. Gringotts will always, as policy, literally freeze the vault first for any suspicious activity or attempted heist and that's not even counting the charms inside if an unauthorized person did get in and lock down Gringotts entirely. Only then would the goblins contact the maiden or the maiden's Head of House that is registered with that vault— actually , just based on the fact the authorities hadn't knocked on Hermione's door showed that Horvat was politely choosing to keep this under wraps in order to evaluate the level of this potential security risk ( Hermione being the supposed security risk ) and be willing to talk it out with Pansy. 

So, Hermione added in her own letter to Pansy:

'...if I had been some random witch that you picked up off the street then I wouldn't have this chance to write to you. You receiving that kind of letter should have had me sitting handcuffed in the MLE!'

The majority of goblins do not mess around with the rights to original ownership, creatorship, property and the debts that should always be paid back and owed, and that went for the goblins who worked at Gringotts even if they had a different opinion to wizards about 'sixteenth generation-hand' of ownership; aka heirlooms made from goblin smithing. The Goblin Liaison Office made sure that any wizard not following Gringotts bank policies could be considered liable for breaking Ministry magical law.

Hermione really should have known better when having a kitchenware heiress own a maiden vault and it sending large amounts of money to an 'unknown' vault. Hermione had learned a bit about maiden vaults during the war from the little research that was available to her through Ron's older brother and from what Griphook could provide in order for the trio to potentially do the unthinkable as to break into Bellatrix LeStrange's vault in 1998. As a highly secure magical bank, Gringotts is hard to steal from in the first place, but their ancient maiden vaults are the trickiest to steal from and try to escape out of. Most people die than make it to Azkaban.

Maiden vaults were traditionally opened under the fathers or Head of House specifically so that their rich daughters could play and spend without the need to fully rely on or become mistreated by her future in-laws during marriage. There were even magical laws and goblin policies in place so that in-laws would have no legal rights to ever touch a maiden's small fortune without the maiden family's permission. That was its most basic concept upon creation, anyway. 

Sure, it was an outdated patriarchal concept, especially in Hermione's opinion, that was still used today by the wizarding elites to control a grown daughter's money— depending on the pureblood family that is, but these vaults are designed to be one of the most secure types of vaults that Gringotts provides. If you reach their own strict qualifications in obtaining one that is. So, it's actually no surprise as to why it didn't die off and that it was a no brainer even to Hermione as to why Voldemort would pick Bellatrix's vault over Lucius's to hide an unknowing fake and real horcrux during the war. His little inferi pond had nothing on a House of Black maiden vault with a Gringotts' bloated out high security system that was tacked onto it by default.

Not to say there weren't any loopholes. There was a rise in money schemes against the vulnerable rich in the early 1600's, because there is one obvious flaw to a maiden vault if it was not strictly controlled. An outsider can't easily get in, but the money could still legally be taken out by the maiden herself if she loved you enough, and love potions were the quickest way to that if you could brew one up— the maiden just wouldn't be able to take a cart through the Thief's Downfall without having to chug another.  Since that time, there are more strict safety measures and charms put in place by Gringotts in order to help protect the naive and easily tricked from being robbed by these ill-intentioned suitors on the outside. Now, putting aside the fact that the trio proved you can steal a dragon and rob a maiden vault from Gringotts 400 years later without Bellatrix being in love with any of them, the vaults are still completely impenetrable for all attempts possible to this day, even if you did have the gall, a wand, the Chosen One, a Weasley, and the brightest witch of her age.

In fact, the goblins must probably be very happy that the security charms work against me!

After the tea invitation with Horvat, Pansy met up with Hermione last Friday night at Moonvine and told her the good news she had. 

First, Pansy had to just get one thing out of her system, "The biscuits were salty—"

Hermione had to rush through Pansy's complaints, "Honestly…in the nicest way possible, salty biscuits have nothing to do with our matter."

"Yeah, okay, Miss Salty Biscuit—"

"Excuse me?" Hermione heard the sass just fine, she just wanted to know if Pansy was brave enough to repeat it.

"The music is loud, huh?" The pretty witch twirled her finger about in the air and had obnoxiously raised her voice despite the private club room being more muffled and 'repeated', " I said, 'Yeah, okay, so I'll get on with it.'"

"..." That sounded spot on. Pansy Parkinson really had a talent for switching up her act. 

Hermione never met Horvat personally so she had to continuously accept Pansy's voice being used for a goblin, 'Miss Parkinson, we've become aware that you have been handing over multiple large sums of gold to a non-family vault, and your activity in doing so has triggered our '1614 Anti-Lover's Money Scheme' charm.'

Hermione was baffled that she had even triggered that specific charm, if not to the other 53,998,001 security charms! And, Hermione wasn't even up to date with that number.

Pansy always used her maiden vault like it was any normal individual account for a high-end client and even believed that her grandfather didn't ever supervise her earnings or spending habits, so the kitchenware heiress was just as shocked to find out that they had accidentally somehow triggered Gringotts' ancient maiden '1614 Anti-Lover's Money Scheme'. This had never happened in all of Pansy's twenty-six years of life, in fact she paused to complain to Hermione that Sue Li, an old Ravenclaw classmate of theirs who was apparently closer to Pansy than Hermione back in school, used to transfer money to her 'broke ass' ex-boyfriend all the time without ever triggering any charm, so why did it have to be her unlucky day to be flagged instead?

Hermione was too embarrassed to remind Pansy that the ex-boyfriend probably didn't have a record of 'successfully' and publically breaking into Gringotts at eighteen like she did. Getting flagged in some way was bound to happen if a goblin with a grudge recognized my vault… And, yes, success should always be in quotations when she had to wing those last two minutes of escaping! Ron brags about doing it, but a brilliant witch shouldn't. Hermione especially didn't want to sound more unreliable than a broke boyfriend.

Apparently, Horvat still exposed Hermione, so Pansy didn't need any reminders from herself of what the Gryffindor trio did, '—with our grievances of her breaking into our Gringotts and stealing our dragon for a joy ride…I suppose Miss Granger is capable of triggering our security charm—"

Hermione wanted to defend herself to Pansy right on the spot, "Joy ride?! No, it was horrible! I know I sound like Hagrid in saying this—as if the dragon wouldn't have eaten us if we didn't get out of the way, but he needed air after being trapped down there for so long. He was mistreated by wizards and goblins. You should have seen the poor thing." Hermione raises her chin as if she would dare to say it to even Horvat's face,"It was a last minute decision before Death Eaters surrounded us. I could have been scorched, died or imprisoned, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat." As a person who has a very rational fear of heights, Hermione had no qualms in breaking into Gringotts again to free a mistreated dragon.

Pansy blinks, "I have to remind myself, that yes, that did happen to you three—there was a whole freaking headline about that. Why were you even down there in the first place robbing Bellatrix's vault when you were the second most Undesirable after Potter in all the British Isles?"

Hermione was sunburnt with embarrassment and refused to elaborate further about their bank heist—there were just some details that the trio knew better than to reveal to the masses, "Just continue…" Her finger had trailed over the rim of the empty shot glass in front of her. 

'Because of these matters, your maiden vault will continuously freeze you out unless your grandfather approves of you interacting with Miss Granger's vault himself, but…  I'm under the impression that this is a… private relationship that your grandfather does not know about, Miss Parkinson?'

Pansy said that Horvat barely looked her in the eyes when he asked that question, but it seemed the goblin was very much aware that in this day in age rich women freely spent large amounts of money on their own secret lover as much as men did.

The pretty witch shared some embarrassment with Hermione, "I didn't deny it. Less questions that way." 

"It's fine." Pansy was right. Less questions that way and Horvat shouldn't say anything to the public. Gringotts prided themselves on privacy and discretion. 

Horvat, with Pansy retelling it at the time , continued to think up a plan for both of them, 'While we normally do not approve or recommend maiden vaults to continue such activities, with Miss Granger's reputation vouched for,' Begrudgingly it seemed of him having to say that, 'if you wish to continue financing each other on a high level of what is personal rather than commercial, I am willing to write up a contract between the two of you. It should be available no later than Monday morning—

Pansy pauses her story to take a sip of her crème de mûre berry cocktail that Hermione had ordered for her and asks, "So, we can sign a contract Monday, if you're free?" 

Hermione had watched Pansy's pink tongue sneak one of the berries mixed into the ice into her mouth. 

She had shaken her head at the time, "My whole department has to help seize an illegal textile factory alongside the MLE Monday, but we can have lunch Tuesday—did he say what the contract would involve?" Hermione was already thinking up the perfect place that would have better lighting than a club and zero wizards about. 

'The contract I have in mind should relieve the stress of our security charms on your maiden vault. Since you are of legal wizarding age, Miss Parkinson, and there are no restrictions in place to keep you from doing so, both of you will sign it without need for your grandfather's signature. Both your signatures and my own will be enough for accountability and the legality of all parties involved in order for Gringotts to accept and approve of such an unorthodox matter.'

If Hermione didn't want to be barred from making future transactions with Pansy's maiden vault then she would have to comply. Normally, Hermione would be against having her signature anywhere near Pansy Parkinson's own. What if she was exposed for having Parkinson money in the accounts? Her paper trail with Pansy was very small to begin with and she burned every letter and note she ever received from the witch. But, hearing Horvat be upfront about protecting the interests of the bank against Pansy ever being scammed by Hermione through having their signatures...well, that goes both ways! Horvat signing the contract means that he is obligated in turn to protect not just the interest of the bank, but also Hermione's and Pansy's interests. The contract would be considered physical evidence that the goblins were aware of the situation, personally investigated the matter, but never found any illegal activity. And, since Hermione is a well-known ministry official, if there was ever an investigation against her by the MLE, then it wouldn't be just Hermione being questioned. The MLE would question Gringotts too who officially approved and notarized those flagged transactions. Placing the bank in legal trouble with the MLE as well for not reporting her 'corruption' like they are supposed to!

That still doesn't mean I can sign such a thing blindly though! Hermione still doesn't know what solution Horvat has in bypassing the anti-lovers security charm or future ones without needing Borimir Parkinson's permission. She still had to wait until Pansy got here and read for herself what the contract actually held. 

Speaking of the little devil and her song, Hermione's nose finally caught the scent of jasmine and berries that was carried in with the cold December air by Pansy.

"I know. I know. I'm late, but hold the lecture, Granger! I have an excuse. If you'll hear it."

Hermione swivels her head up from where she sat to see the kitchenware heiress dressed head to toe in 'winter' fashion—from a navy beret, thigh high suede black boots, to a dress that couldn't yet be seen with the white fluffy coat blocking it. Pansy wasn't the type of witch to wear fake fur, but Hermione couldn't even guess what animal the fur was from in the first place. She just hoped it wasn't endangered. 

"I'm holding." Hermione then sips her lemon water. Not like I haven't been waiting for almost ten minutes for you and everyone here thinks I've been stood up.

The fluffy coat was folded to another chair, gloves placed on the table, and then Pansy sat down in the chair across from Hermione. Brown eyes wander over the witch who didn't seem bothered by having to meet up at a muggle restaurant. She seemed to be in a good mood. Pansy's pretty face was flushed from the cold air outside. The tips of her ears were exposed through the curtain of hair that was capped by the beret, which made Pansy look cute and 'innocent' compared to the mature outfit she had been hiding underneath her fur coat. 

Hermione could now see the dark navy blazer dress. Its length made a slim gap of skin just above Pansy's high suede boots. But, that isn't exactly the dazzling sight that her eyes kept wanting to land on. Hermione had yet to swallow her lemon water when it suddenly spilled to her chin instead. Her glass hits the table top and she goes to wipe the spill from her sunburnt face. As she does so, Hermione's eyes shyly dodge the impressive sight that was made visible by the strapless white lace bodysuit that was underneath the blazer. Damn it, Parkinson! It's not the first time Hermione has witnessed Pansy 'bless' this world with her cleavage, so why did she have to choke on her water like that?

Trying to recover, Hermione closed her hand over her gritted teeth and waited for her own excited heart to calm down. She hoped the pretty witch didn't notice how unprepared Hermione had been and tease her for it. 

Pansy didn't notice. She went straight into explaining herself, "I was at Peachy Witchy's London office—They're making a comeback here with their seven-scent perfumes, but if I had to be honest, thank Morgana my shoot never happened." She briefly glances up at the ceiling of the restaurant as if Morgana was up there in the rafters watching over her, "That perfume is an absolute lawsuit just waiting to happen. Duffy sprayed the nozzle in her eyes. Her eyes swelled up and it was a whole thing! We had to take her to St. Mungo's. Poor girl. Anyways, I'm here now—" Pansy cuts off her own story, and leans back a bit to display her outfit, "business chic looks hot on me, right?"

Pansy's manicured hand is like an arrow pointing straight to her tits and purposefully making Hermione focus on the impressive sight in front of her again. It at least gave Hermione the courage to take in the rest of the suit details and notice the custom peony gold buttons that held the suit closed over the white lace bodysuit. 

Yes! Hermione is internally honest with herself to say that Pansy looked amazing, but she kept down the puppy enthusiasm when complimenting Pansy out loud, "Sure." Also, Hermione didn't know who Duffy was. She only knew Pansy had a friend they both went to school with named Daphne, so Duffy must be one of Pansy's modeling friends. She was polite about it and added,  "That's terrible about Daffy. Will she be alright?" Hermione didn't notice her own slip-up of mixing Daphne and Duffy together though. 

Pansy leaned forward with elbows on the table and put her chin on her closed fists that framed her pretty face into a heart, "Duffy. She's just fine. I love Duffy, honest. But, I guess she is a bit daft, isn't she? Who even sprays perfume right into their own eyes in the middle of a shoot? Someone who's a dumb cunt, that's who."

"Oh..." Yeah. I guess I may have accidentally slipped up there, but of course school bully Parkinson made it out to be something it wasn't. 

The waiter came rushing over again to take their orders after seeing the rich woman take her seat. Wanting a chance to see the pretty woman that almost stood up Hermione no doubt. 

His eyes certainly didn't stay professionally leveled with Pansy's own. "Any drinks you would like to order?" Each word unfortunately sent the poor young man's eyes lower and lower, until landing and stopping on Pansy's breasts and completely forgetting Hermione's own existence entirely.

Hermione grips her sweaty ice glass. The waiter was likely no older than twenty-one, so Hermione had to accept that this was a fairly new view for him at work where he usually has grandmothers dining at the restaurant in their big bird hats and conservative dress. Not to mention, Hermione had also been caught off guard. If I was caught off guard by Pansy's cleavage, there was no saving this guy!

Pansy sits up straight then, her hand subtly hovers over her cleavage, and answers the young man with a weak smile, "Wine—the best you have, but preferably red. I'm not driving today."

Wow, that sounds very muggle for you to say, Parkinson. Besides lacking a car do you also happen to lack muggle money for that wine and want me to foot the bill here too?

Blocking the view seems to help the poor waiter in listening to her, "Um…" He looks a bit sheepish in having to answer, and Hermione knows why. This place wasn't that fancy—at least not anymore. Perhaps a few unopened 1994 Merlot covered in dust in the back. "...our house wine it is then…Anything else, Miss?" Like a puppy wagging his tail. "hors d'oeuvres—appetizers?"

Before Pansy could think to ask about the appetizers available, Hermione was quick to push him away with her own words, "Not right now, thank you. Just pour me another glass of water." With the waiter walking away, Hermione muttered an excuse for declining to order, "—better elsewhere. The bread is dry, the tomatoes dry…the soup isn't that good either." 

"Wow. Let me guess," Pansy scowls when not getting to order anything, "the soup is dry, too, Granger?"

"Oily, actually." 

Hermione refrained from admitting that the Shepherd's Pie was the only dish she would ever order here since the age of three when her parents would invite her grandparents out so she didn't exactly know. Ron would complain under his breath that everything here was always overcooked, and every time at the end of the meal, as if he was testing her, "You love this place, right?" And, Hermione, who never cared much for this place besides it being a safe memory for her about her family, would nod with her rows of teeth tightly pressed together to create a smile, " Yes. Thanks, Ron."

She feels a bit embarrassed now at having picked this restaurant, but Hermione reminds herself that Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson were nobodies in this restaurant filled with muggles. The bright witch at least hopes she has learned her lesson from all those years ago from wanting everyone to meet up in the Hog's Head.

Hermione nervously rushes through with another excuse, "The quality was better in its heyday, if you believe that. Just drink the wine for now, Parkinson, it seems you don't have to go back to work like I do."

Pansy would have sassed Hermione again, but the pretty witch just looks over the restaurant she had just walked right through. She spots the staff carving a large hanging ham in front of a table ( she internally guesses that's dry too ) and then at the very outdated decor around her, the unpolished silverware, and the set bread plates that had definitely seen better days before they were treated harshly by a dishwasher. Her shatter blue manicure inspected a rough chip in the porcelain and suddenly had a wilt in energy by the sight of it. Quietly wondering to herself as to why Hermione invited her here if it wasn't that great of a place. She knew the answer, but she didn't like that answer at all. 

Hermione didn't notice. She asked for the contract. Still needing to thoroughly read it before signing blindly. Pansy puts her hand inside the folded fluffy coat sitting between the two of them, and pulls the flat folded square parchment out. The witch likely summoned it from somewhere, and only used the coat as a shield to hide her wand movement. 

"It's not too much to read. I already signed it." Pansy says while unfolding it and handing it over. 

The two knew nothing at the time about the photographer that had been eagerly snapping pictures of Pansy handing over 'documents' to Hermione or that Ginny Potter was out Christmas shopping with mates nearby and caught sight of them herself. 

Ron's little sister had suddenly realized she was near that muggle restaurant Hermione often went to for a birthday when the witch was still together with Ron. Ginny curiously looked over to read the name of the restaurant hanging over the window only for her eyes to instead catch sight of that familiar wavy head of hair that belonged to her friend. 

Ginny's winter boots came to a stop in the middle of the zebra crossing and her mouth soon fell agape when recognizing another face that had been plastered in almost every magazine and advertisement for the past year and half sitting across from Hermione. Slytherin girl that Ginny only ever thought was mostly harmless if not a little brainless twat at times. One of the first to call her Weaslette, mock her taste in boyfriends as if the witch herself hadn't been dating a ferret, and became one of the many mean girls having to dodge a fourth year's favorite bat-bogey hex. Ginny can't forget the Slytherin always crying without tears when playing the victim whenever Ginny chose to fight back, "Morgana's tits! It's not my fault Corner ditched you for a weeping willow—" When it was slightly in fact her fault! Ginny told everyone the break up was over Michael being a sore loser, but it was the Slytherin fifth year who helped instigate the break up by taking advantage of poor Michael's jealousy back then. "Hey, Potter—Oh, my bad. That's just Corner! Well, the broody boys do look similar, don't they? I see it, Weaslette!" 

That's right. On the other side of the restaurant window sat Pansy Parkinson who was having lunch with Hermione Granger. But, there were far too many memories of having witnessed Hermione having a row with the pretty witch back at Hogwarts to find this believable, and yet...

A friend interrupts Ginny's dazed stare, "Ginny, don't get yourself run over. Ever since they got those celly contraptions these muggles don't pay attention to where they're going."

Hermione takes a pen from her coat. Pansy blinks and listens along to Hermione's thumb clicking the end of the ink pen in rhythm as the bright witch scrutinizes every word from the contract. 

[Gringotts Wizarding Bank's Partial Share Contract: 

Party A (Miss P. Y. Parkinson; client to Gringotts' family maiden vault) and Party B (Miss H. J. Granger; client to Gringotts' savings vault) have been given permission to transfer funds under two hundred thousand (200,000) Galleons with the transferring tax of two (2) sickles by Gringotts Wizarding Bank. 

By signing this contract both parties accept the terms and conditions that comes with partial sharing with Party A (Maiden Parental Vault) to Party B (Maiden Subsidy) for the agreed upon amount with the tax fee of two (2) sickles, and abide by all laws and restrictions of the Maiden Vault. The one time contract fee is three (3) Galleons, three Sickles (3), and two (2) Knuts. The limited access will commence immediately once payment is received and will be in effect until permissions are revoked by the Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Parental Maiden Vault, or Head of House of Maiden Family. 

For the assured privacy of our clients, by using the confidentiality clause of the Gru-Broz-Himmel, all future private transactions will be approved and notarized solely through Gringotts Wizarding Bank Consultant Horvat; Clan of Ggnu, President of Gringotts Wizarding Bank Elek; Clan of Gru. 

Please sign below on the space available.]

It already had the signatures of Consultant Horvat and President Elek, and another line had Pansy's signature that she solely used for her bank records instead of autographs. 

P.Y. Parkinson

Hermione's brow wrinkles as a result of what she just read. This so-called 'Partial Share' contract is just a 'Parental-Subsidy' contract? Hermione rereads it. Again. Yes, it really does say Party B is a Maiden Subsidy in the second paragraph. Horvat only changed the title of the contract to Partial Share. By signing this, it would continue to allow the witches to transfer money between one another. Hermione would call Horvat a genius for getting around Borimir Parkinson's authoritative permissions and Gringotts' strict security, but she doesn't know how the goblin was able to get this approved and notarized. Hermione's vault should not qualify as a maiden subsidy…Why? 

Because I'm not Pansy's child!  

Horvat must have the highest level that a consultant can be if he can manipulate a Gringotts contract to work between two non-related grown women. 

A Parental-Subsidy is exactly what is said on the tin— the contract in this case. It safely allows for the rich mother with a maiden vault to securely send gold to her child with a limited set amount and in-laws would still be unable to try and seize control of the money in the maiden vault by using her child's vault. It was a tempting offer to have access to a maiden vault, but it still had a nasty little bite to it. The Subsidy Vault is monitored for the agreed upon funds leaving and going from the Maiden Vault, and any signs of suspicious activity will lockdown the vault with the 50 million other security charms in play and transport all that money that is owed back into the maiden vault— that is if the money is still left in the child's vault.  

Again, it still has some flaws and security risks that Gringotts can only do so much to patch, and there might be a bit more to it that Hermione really isn't familiar with and is missing. She only brushed over this part when researching as she never thought it was helpful in getting into a childless Bellatrix's vault.

Now, in-laws and mother feuds aside, if Hermione, an adult muggleborn woman, was actually being allowed to sign such a contract…then she has every right to feel very uneasy about signing such a thing and that should go for Pansy as well with the security flaws that come with it. Hermione would have the limited access to Pansy's maiden vault, but the Parkinson Family will have that same access to her own and the family could even monitor her! Not that there was anything Hermione was doing that was shady, it was just her safety awareness of the matter. 

Hermione keeps staring at the contract. She stares for so long that the letters look like they're squiggling about the parchment. She has to blink several times and look up from it. When Horvat told Pansy that Gringotts does not recommend for maiden vaults to transfer large sums of money to secret lovers he was not lying. It's not possible without a huge security risk being created for the vault. This shouldn't even be possible, but if a witch continuously insists can a goblin stop one from being stupid? In this age, a witch should have the freedom to do the same stupid stunts a lovesick wizard can do!

Where is Pansy's safety awareness?! What if I was a bad guy?! Hermione wanted to grab that business dress by the collar and question Pansy's qualifications of being sorted into Slytherin at this point. There is no way she is a snake!

Pansy said she read this?! Well…I can clearly see that she signed it! The kitchenware heiress's signature was right there on the parchment, and the handwriting didn't look like a struggle had taken place in doing so. I know Pansy didn't have her solicitor read and explain this back to her. They would have torn this contract up and started a legal dispute against me. And I honestly wouldn't blame them from a legal and financial safety standpoint in doing so. 

"This is…" Hermione wants to take back what she originally thought when willing to sign a contract with Pansy Parkinson. 

At that moment, the waiter came back with wine and two glasses they didn't ask for. Hermione closed her mouth. The young man displayed the bottle to Pansy, and the pretty witch didn't look pleased with the way he was handling the glasses. His fingerprint was clearly visible on her own wine glass, but Pansy accepted it all with a fake smile as the waiter poured the wine. The witch was trying to be on her best behavior in a muggle restaurant. 

Hermione silently watches him pour red wine in the second glass. No. Where is the refill of water I asked for?

None of them touched the wine. Hermione only gave a curt nod as a polite thank you for him to leave the table, because it was better if the muggle waiter just got out of the way before she blew up at Pansy's lack of safety awareness. You don't just blindly sign things like this!

Pansy turned back to Hermione when the waiter left again and asked her to continue, "What about it?"

Hermione looks up from the wine and repeats with disbelief, "What about it?!" 

There doesn't seem to be such malicious thoughts or worries behind those starry green eyes. Completely trusting the Golden Witch in front of her. 

Pansy glances down at the contract with confusion then, "I don't think that's the total cut off. I think we can still make separate transactions that can equal above the two hundred thousand mark."

Pansy didn't read anything past the first paragraph, did she?

Hermione shakes her head, "That's not what I meant." Though that is terrifying! Hermione didn't need anything to exceed over 200,000 Galleons after having already paid off the right people to lift her shadowban. 

"You haven't even told me what you meant." Pansy still didn't get it, "Is it the contract fee? I didn't take you to be that stingy. Just sign it already, and we can continue as before."

Her righteous morals will not let her sign, not until Pansy is fully aware of what they are signing. Hermione decides to be upfront, but first takes a deep and calming breath before starting. 

In the gentlest voice that she can try, "This does allow for us to send each other money, but we would share partial access to each other's vaults in doing so. Your vault will be allowed to oversee everything of mine. For Horvat to allow us to even sign this is extremely unorthodox, Pansy, especially with the tight security a maiden vault should hold. I need you to be aware, before I sign this, that I can personally go to your vault at Gringotts and legally take 200,000 Galleons from it." She couldn't keep it up; Hermione raised her voice and glared at Pansy for not having read a damn thing! "Because of your motherly affection for me!"

An old couple that was sitting just across the way paused in their eating to look over at the outburst, the wife then winced and turned back to her husband with, "The youth these days have it rough, don't they?"

"Eh, I think Oedipus still had it worse. He unknowingly married his biological mum."

Pansy looks a bit taken back by what Hermione just said, "Are you testing me? Where the fuck does it say anything about motherly love, Granger?" She snatches the parchment right out of Hermione's hands and her entire chest is visibly blushed. 

Slightly embarrassed from her own outburst being overheard by the muggles, Hermione burns red and lowers her volume. 

"Be honest with me… You didn't read this, did you? " She felt a little helpless at the witch in front of her,"You signed a Parental-Subsidy contract, Parkinson. Traditionally, this is a contract specifically created for a mother with a maiden vault to give money safely to her child without the in-laws trying to benefit. I need you to please be more aware of your vault's restrictions and benefits next time, okay? Don't just sign contracts and hand them over to me or anyone else for that matter…You are going to give me heart failure at twenty-seven."

"N-no, I did read it." The pretty witch hurriedly scans over the parchment, before perking up with a smile, "Oh, that, yeah," Pansy suddenly pretends that she knew all along so that Hermione wouldn't question her intelligence, "I just took this as Horvat calling me your sugar-mummy," 

So, Horvat did read it for her, but she didn't understand it? "Let's stick to Moneybags." 

Pansy didn't mind Hermione's refusal and handed back over the contract "Don't worry, Granger, I wouldn't normally sign such a stupid thing."

No, the heiress normally had solicitors to tell her not to, so Hermione won't fault Pansy this time. 

Those starry green eyes look at Hermione with complete trust; shedding the lessons that the witch might have been taught to her when raised in the House of Slytherin all those years ago, "It's you , so I know my money will be in the best hands."

Yes, thank Godric , it was Hermione as the one who was sitting across from the kitchenware heiress, because someone much more heartless and dishonest would have taken advantage of this trust that Pansy was willing to give Hermione. Horvat didn't mean any ill-will to befall Pansy, either.  Hermione was indeed ' Hermione Granger'. Her character was vouched for. She had even made sure Pansy was aware of what she was signing for her safety—that righteous twelve year old goody-two-shoes showing her face from time to time.

Hermione takes back the contract. 

Looking back down at the words on the parchment, the anxiety in her heart calms after being reminded that it was just her sitting across from the pretty witch, not anyone malicious. There was nothing to worry about if it was true that Pansy would not do this with anyone else. 

Still Hermione asks with some scrutiny on the matter for herself now, "Are you sure your grandfather doesn't involve himself with your vault?"

On one hand, Hermione was concerned that he wasn't involved, because of how Pansy just handed over a signed contract and didn't even read it for herself. Absolutely zero financial mindfulness. But, if he was involved, Hermione would be worried of him finding out their operations and force Pansy to cancel all interaction with her. Igor certainly would curse Hermione straight to oblivion. Igor should have already been suspicious of how Hermione's office ended up being approved of her big budget, but since her shadowban was lifted, he didn't come looking for her. Likely thinking someone at the top of the food chain must have taken a fancy to Hermione's little office and done it for her. Igor must also be pleased in not having her annoy him every other weekday in trying to get him to listen to her proposal about raising her budget. 

"I'm sure." Pansy nods her head firmly before her hesitation finally appears after Hermione continues to scrutinize her, "Well… that depends… on what you mean. My grandfather occasionally gives me money from the family vault, but it's not like he cares what I do with the money. It's not like I'm doing drugs or gambling…" Pansy tries to sound more confident, as she certainly wasn't doing anything of the sort, "Don't worry. My grandfather doesn't know about this— us. Horvat won't report it to him. If he was really involved in my affairs he would have already sent a letter months ago, right?"

"And, your parents?"

"My dad does my taxes and my grandfather gave mum my spare vault key."Pansy leans back in her chair, "In case I kick the cauldron or if my grandfather—" Pansy animatedly uses her hand to brush such a negative topic aside, "Well, that's all. It's safe. No matter what happens to him or me, no one else has control of my maiden vault besides mum. So, she's like…" Pansy frowns trying to recall the right word, "My beneficiary?"

That made sense. Harry was also her beneficiary and on her emergency contact list Mrs. Weasley was just below him. Knowing there were very few people that were actually involved with Pansy's maiden vault, she felt more at ease. "Yes. Beneficiary." 

She stares down at the contract again, and while ignoring her brain's alarm bells of common sense, Hermione goes ahead to sign it. Hermione doubted the Parkinson Family actually cared about her paycheck when they made millions in crockery and kitchenware. 

Hermione voices this thought, "I doubt you'll steal my petty earnings, anyways…"

"Come on," Pansy tries to joke, "Your sugar mummy won't look down on her sugar babe—"

Cringing, Hermione put a stop to what Pansy was about to finish with, "If you ever call me your sugar baby again, I will be forced to hex you." 

The pretty witch sits on her chair like she had ants crawling over her body; cringing, "Ugh, yeah, okay you're right," and her face distorts into her own disgust, "That gave me goosebumps just saying it myself…"

Right. Hermione clicks her pen once more and slides it back into her coat. "Even if a glass costs me only seven pounds, don't waste it. Finish the wine so I can head back to my job. I'm afraid that if I'm not back in time, one of my own employees is going to end up getting stabbed— don't ask..."

Pansy still wouldn't touch her dirty glass and Hermione thought about cleaning it herself while her hand was still hidden inside her coat. 

"Wow." Pansy sarcastically starts, "I show up late from Duffy getting sprayed in the eyes and you leave early…for some stabbed coworker..."

"To prevent getting stabbed." Hermione corrects. "Don't try to curse Silversmith like that..."

The correction doesn't stick with Pansy, because she already guessed where Hermione was heading after this, "If you're heading to Knockturn, somebody is going to end up getting stabbed or hexed either way, Granger. You might as well just stick with me and have lunch." She then props her head up with fists again while elbows on the table. "We could talk about...our injured coworkers."

Hermione shakes her head, "Having injured coworkers is not a common interest, Parkinson..." 

An exaggerated sigh escapes Pansy, "Well, we have that one common interest we can talk about I guess..."And, what is that?"You know, some women date with just that in common." 

Ah, liking women. Her heart trembles when the conversation turns to such a hypothetical thought for herself as possibly dating Pansy Parkinson. Hermione denies she would do such a thing, "I don't. I prefer something solid, not some flimsy thing." Despite having had a one night stand that contradicts that very statement. 

Hermione casts a non-verbal spell to clean the wine glasses then. The wine glass sparkles clean in front of Pansy. The pretty witch's eyes brighten at the sight of this, and reach for her wine glass with a pretty smile. Removing her hand from her coat, Hermione rests her hands on the table, holding them together with her fingers interlocked alone while carefully counting those golden stars in front of her. 

"Yeah," The brightness in Pansy's eyes dims slightly. "I know your type well, and it won't ever be me."

But, would I even be yours? Hermione thought better of asking Pansy that. I guess if we weren't Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson. She shoves down the wishful thought that tries to rise up from those early days of staring enviously across Moonvine at Pansy sitting in those laps and flirting with those other witches. 

Hermione outwardly gave an excuse as to why she wasn't attracted to Pansy, despite that not being entirely true. "You're high maintenance."

Pansy grumbled, "Thanks, you're low effort."

She let that slide in order to make her point to Pansy, "Just a month ago, you hated that I mixed corduroy with denim." Hermione remembers when she had to scrounge up clothes from the bottom of her wardrobe on laundry day and the reaction Pansy had when they met caused the witch to ask what the hell she was wearing. Her clothes weren't even that bad. 

The pretty witch huffs in annoyance at the reminder, but with her exposed ears resting underneath her beret, she just looks cute when she does that,"No! I just said I hated you wearing the trousers." I have a good memory. It was more than the trousers. Pansy sounds like she's struggling to be honest when Hermione scowls at her, "The denim jacket could have been worn separately from those corduroys." Okay, that's more honest. "I wasn't trying to be a bitch. I was looking out for you." 

"Dare I even ask?" 

"Okay. Don't take this the wrong way and hex me," Pansy then whispers in the restaurant like the next part was scandalous, "With an arse like yours, it's criminal to wear baggy trousers." ??? Did you just confess to looking at my butt? Pansy raised her voice again,"So, wouldn't that make you the piece of work here, Granger? We're going to have to buy you a whole new wardrobe next year!"

No, what got you to say that?! "Yeah, okay," Hermione rolled her eyes and decided to just sarcastically answer that nonsense she just heard,"I'm the piece of work here..." But, her brain felt a little happy for the compliment that Pansy was willing to give her in a roundabout way. That...that was a compliment, right?

The pretty witch smoothly lifts the wine in Hermione's direction and shares a flirtatious wink with her then, "That's right! So, another year of me having to cooperate with you of all people, Granger," The gold flecks in Pansy's eyes always seem far brighter when she smiles.

Hermione didn't lift her own glass, but she joined in with a soft smile of her own, "Cheers, Parkinson."

Pansy downs her wine after that. Hermione breaks away from staring again and focuses instead on the ice shifting and melting in her lemon water. Hermione's hot fingers swipe over the condensation of the glass in thought to that. Another year...

≪—≫

"Parkinson? Yes. Second Floor. Private Room 2. Be sure to allow for our enhanced cleaning charms to clean you before entry and please no outside food. If you have any gifts for the patient they must first be inspected before the patient is allowed to receive it."

The Welcome Witch hardly looked up from the Evening Prophet crossword puzzle while saying her lines perfectly even with the smacking gum in her mouth. She either didn't seem to care or realize that the image on the front page that was face down on the desk was the couple standing right in front of her. 

Hermione has only ever visited four floors of the hospital before. The Janus Thickey Ward; severe spell damage. The cursed scar across her torso from Dolohov had her recuperating there for a few days, but Lockhart and Neville's parents were permanently still residing there. The Dai Llewellyn Ward for Dangerous Animal Attacks and Nasty Bites from when visiting Mr. Weasley her fifth year after he was bit by Nagini. The maternity ward from when visiting both Ginny and Angelina when they had their kids, and there was the fifth floor for tea and the gift shop that held an assortment of things that Hermione never thought a hospital gift shop should normally have—because why was there a muggle jacuzzi for rent back in 2004? It was very unhygienic and ridiculous. She even wondered if it was still there collecting dust. 

But, Hermione knew what the second floor involved: Magical Bugs; ailments and diseases.

After following the directions of the Welcome Witch, both accepted their fates to the strict cleaning spells that made Hermione feel she had been wiped clean from head to toe. Her white keds bright and even Pansy's nails were stripped of any polish. Hermione was escorted by Pansy through the ward. The couple held hands through a corridor lit up by what looked to have been a child having blown too many bubbles up into the air; still floating and bumping about on the ceiling. 

The floating bubbles were commercially installed fairy lights. Bright and piercing if you looked too long at the things. Hermione kept her own eyes leveled with the doors and the portraits of past Healers that contributed to magic and science over centuries. One of the ancient Healers misdiagnosed them: "Ah, my fair lady, do thou by chance have the Squabbs? Swallowing a whole Ashwinder egg will cure it, I swear by thee!"

Only dragons can contract the Squabbs, so we're not swallowing snake eggs!

Giving a wary glance over the brass holder, Hermione read, [Nicholas Nincompoop 1140; Do NOT listen to diagnosis or cure] Well, that answered that, but didn't answer why they left this guy's portrait hanging here. Hermione would have tossed him in the muggle bins behind the 'abandoned' department building Purge and Dowse if she was a Healer.

Pansy was obviously annoyed to have such a diagnosis, but her focus remained on the doors ahead instead of snapping at the portrait. Preserving her energy for when she would have to face her family.

Nicholas kept on insisting the things that must be wrong with Pansy and jumping rudely through other's portraits to keep up with the two, "No, do thou feel upset in the abdomen then, my fair lady? I have just the potion—" 

Worse than the quack doctors that muggles had back in medieval times! Hermione protectively dragged her wife to the other side of her and switched hands. Hermione cast a warning glance at Nicholas Nincompoop, and he skids to a halt. He fell smack into a painted patient's bed and couldn't go any further even if he dared. 

The sounds of Pansy's heels tap along the polished marble floor. Hermione feels the witch squeeze her hand tightly in a silent thank-you. Her eyes cast over the pretty witch. The face was blank and there wasn't even a muscle twitch. But, the pink tinge was still visible. Her silk robes flutter behind them as they move quickly. The two walk straight past Private Room #1 with its door closed. The private rooms were for wealthy elites that didn't want to deal with shared wards or rooms. Not to mention there were likely contagious diseases lurking on this floor. 

Pansy's anxiousness was a bit contagious. Hermione kept her own hackles raised; not knowing what she should expect when visiting Borimir's private room. How many family members will be rushing to visit the old man? Pansy mentions she had cousins, but Hermione only ever met Pansy's parents, the one brother, and her grandfather. 

Up ahead, Hermione spotted a group of noisy wizards and a witch. Tall and short, late twenties to early thirties; one blonde in the sea of darker shades of hair—their faces unrecognizable to Hermione, except she could see some resemblance to what she had seen in Igor, Borimir, and Mihael. Hermione didn't see Mihael among the men. He must already be inside the private room. The only woman among them must be a wife or a fiancée to one, but she looked the most annoyed at the bickering, crossing her arms and looking up at the ceiling. 

Their voices were rising and they couldn't hear the Parkinson heiress making her way over with crisp clicks to her heels and silk robes following behind her. Pansy held her chin high and looked on at the scene ahead of them with disgust. 

It wasn't as noisy as when the two had walked through reception where the amount of ailments and jinxes that would befuddle a wizard became an absolute circus, but it was cutting it close to causing a scene. Two were already at each other's throats. One wizard had grabbed a collar and pointed his wand at a much thinner wizard, but he himself was being grabbed and pulled back by the pair of hands behind him. 

There was a row of wizards going, " Hey, hey, hey—Ease off him!"

Hermione feels her hand being squeezed again, and nails press into the back of her hand. She looks over Pansy's blank face, and finds she is still unable to fully read what lay behind those green starry eyes. 

"Hexing Georgi really isn't worth whatever he said, but if you must, just drag him over a crack in the floor and watch him kiss it."

Her eyes fell onto Pansy's moving lips. So, it was her wife that spoke. Hermione blinks away from Pansy and to the wizard that her wife was calling off. The commotion stops and heads swivel over to Hermione and Pansy that approach them. The wand is lowered, and the hands that took a hold of the wizard are shoved and shaken off.

The wand at the wizard's side is still gripped tightly, and yellow sparks visibly came off the end.

His eyes fall to the floor then to stare mostly at champagne heels when he greets Pansy, "Sis," only barely tilting his chin to cautiously observe Hermione.

"Milo." Pansy greets him, but doesn't say anything else.

Despite the lack of enthusiasm in Pansy's voice when speaking to the wizard, Hermione realizes who is standing in front of her. 

It was Milomir Parkinson. Milo. The wizard has easily outgrown his childhood pictures that his mum still had displayed in her home. 

He anxiously brushes a hand adorned with rings through his dark wavy hair. It naturally parts down the middle with a rare widow's peak. The 'curtain' of short hair falls back and frames his face and unshaven jaw again. There were dark bags underneath Milomir's eyes from what must have been his own long nights and lack of sleep.

Unlike Mihael, Milomir resembles Igor the most, if rather an unkempt appearance compared to his father. Hermione can see with Milomir's mature features he has Igor's strong aquiline nose and even the browline was more prominent in Milomir than Mihael, but he had Yvette's almond brown instead of Igor's dark green. Hermione can confirm now that no one else in the family had her wife's golden flecks; the stars seem to only belong to Pansy. If one never met the Head of the Parkinson Family at eye level that is. 

Hearing the lack of enthusiasm from his little sister, Milomir skirts out of Pansy's way, but his eyes cautiously stay on Hermione. Wand still in hand, ready to defend himself if she was mad enough to have a go in attacking him—such nervous behavior only made Hermione confused. Am I that scary or is he guilty of something?

She looks to Pansy for an answer, but her wife is already giving her cousins a stare down. The cousin, Georgi , winces and covers his button nose at Pansy's silent threat of warning him to behave.  Hermione doesn't know why a crack in the floor would frighten the man, but it would hurt if his face made impact with it, especially when it looked as if the wind could blow him right over. Georgi has short curly brown hair that was tousled with mousse, both ears are pierced with diamond studs and his eyes were more similar to Mihael's dark green. Hermione thinks that she recognizes him from somewhere—Hogwarts, perhaps, but he would have to have been a year above her. Not a tag-along to Draco's little gang. Not even a Slytherin. Had he been in Hufflepuff? Yes, Hermione can imagine Georgi Parkinson wearing the yellow and black robes, but not much else came to mind. Pansy really was the only Parkinson the Gryffindor trio 'interacted' with at Hogwarts. Pansy's own brothers had even transferred out of Hogwarts in Pansy's first year to attend Durmstrang. 

Georgi starts to straighten up his slim fitting tartan blazer. It made him stand out with such a bold choice compared to everyone else besides Hermione's yellow shirt. He feels that something was missing and starts to check his pockets with panic growing on his face when he finds every one of them empty. 

Everyone ignored Georgi. Their attention solely on Hermione Granger— sizing her up, calculating her, they even looked disgusted by her …it made Hermione feel uneasy. Like they were eyeing her as if she was an enemy . Like she was circled in by Death Eaters. It had been a long time since she felt unwanted in a room (even a corridor) filled with people.

Hermione had the urge to reach for her own wand straight away for self defence, but she knows this was only a feeling left over from the war. She reminds herself that the Parkinson Family might have been cowards during the war, but they weren't ever Death Eaters. So, this stare down should be more like Hermione somehow owed these wizards seven million in money and they wanted it paid today. 

She is confident in that at least, because Pansy corrected her about Igor Parkinson when Hermione started to vent with some alcohol in her system about the old wizard, and even going as far as calling him a muggleborn-hating Death Eater. 

A bubbly laugh had escaped Pansy back then. "Oh, and why do you think that? Did Potter tell you he met a Death Eater with my family name?"

"Well…" Hermione was embarrassed that she had been called out for judging a whole pureblood family. Just because Pansy was Slytherin, part of that stupid 'Sacred 28' and friends with a Malfoy. 

"You act like we're the Malfoys. We didn't always have money, you know? My family isn't all pureblood. A few cousins are half if you still care about all that." She didn't care. She didn't know. Hermione doesn't remember how many shots that had been had between the two of them, but Pansy sounds the most sober, " My father was the first Parkinson to return to Hogwarts in a very, very long time—he is the first Parkinson to hold a high position in the ministry in a very long time too and I'm the first of my family to be housed in Slytherin since the most unpopular Minister of Magic, Perseus Parkinson. Besides me, he might take the title for being the most disliked Parkinson in history. He tried to ban the freedom to marry muggles back in the 1700's, you know?" 

Hermione knew. The history books described the unpopular political move as the turning tide of Wizarding politics as a whole—the divide of muggle and magic was to be pushed out by the inner-workings of the Ministry of Magic, and rightfully so. Politically so. Minister Parkinson was the last rotting part of that old movement to be cut off, so they forced him out. It wasn't just about the ban on muggle marriages. They made sure he never stepped foot in office again. It was a smear campaign. It was a message. The Muggles Parliament had been formed a few years prior. Robert Walpole of the Whig Party, considered the first Prime Minister, was a strong contender in muggle politics alongside the monarch, especially for his movement against war and conflict, and the Ministry of Magic wanted to follow his example and enact peace secretly between the two governments that resided alongside each other. The times were changing for wizard kind and if politicians didn't bend to the new ideal world, they would be stripped of any power and title and thrown out on the street like Perseus. 

"They say he might have cursed his entire bloodline—no matter what Parkinson did, the family could never return to the past glory days. When we fell, we fell hard. The family says his politics buried us alive. Even my grandfather blames Perseus, he went on to do business with muggles to spite the curse and rewrite what Parkinson meant." That would later explain why Hermione never did see the portrait of Minister Perseus Parkinson in the Ancestral Home and was welcomed without much issue by Borimir Parkinson. "So, it's not because of your parentage that my dad doesn't like you. He's just a grouchy old man who only thinks about profit margins and—"

Hermione interrupted and glowered, "...that my office doesn't make the ministry any money."  

"Exactly. That's why the old dustbins put him in that position after the war in the first place. He has a solid resume of how he kept my grandfather's company standing during the war." Pansy slid one of her own jelly slug shots over, because the pretty witch knew that didn't make Hermione Granger feel any better about Igor Parkinson. " It's all about what you can do for them by putting gold back in their pockets. He only ever does what is asked. He's a lap dog, but don't call him that—at least, don't mention I said it."

Pansy had watched Hermione throw back the glass of vodka infused jelly slugs, put the shot back on the table, and then Hermione scrutinized Pansy further, "No Death Eaters—like at all?"

" My grandfather didn't think the war was ever good for business—most of his oldest friends were muggles. It would just be going against his own interests. My cousins used to brag about the Dark Arts—so maybe they were fanboys, but I never got the impression that they hate muggles. And, my third uncle actually fled the country with his family…scared for Georgi, I guess. Or, my uncle just wanted to make a profit elsewhere that wasn't in a civil war and that was just his excuse—he failed anyway." Pansy rolled her eyes, "That's my family." And took a shot herself. "...in the politest terms, we're money-grubbing selfish cowards, but we're no Death Eaters."

A self-deprecating laugh had escaped Pansy back then just as the glass hit the table beside Hermione's own. As if while talking about her cowardly family, Pansy had her own silent thoughts about them and muttered to herself. "I always wondered if my own great grandmother regretted it."

"Regret what?" Hermione had overheard her.

"Being married to a Parkinson" Pansy didn't explain herself further, letting the colorful lights float across her pretty face and capture Hermione's attention. 

Being someone that had no right to live, yet clawed through the dirt regardless—to take back what had been stripped from them no matter the cause. The choices that Pansy made of her own free will in order to survive. The choices that were made without Pansy present; that set her future before she was ever born. The little things that added up to the bigger things that became a Parkinson. 

Hermione isn't sure how she should treat these new faces surrounding her. One of them fled out of safety, if not for profit. Some of them stayed. One of them was Pansy's brother. One of them was probably a Voldemort fanboy. Were they any different from Pansy or… were they still worse than her?

Milomir finally plucks the courage to speak to Hermione, "Unfortunate timing for introductions,"

It seemed so. 

Much like how it had been when Hermione met Mihael for the first time, Milomir holds out his hand for Hermione to shake, "I'm Pansy's brother—the other one. Milomir." 

Mihael's introduction only being slightly different, "Pansy's brother—the older one. Mihael."

The brothers truly were fraternal twins. Alike, but not by much. 

Pansy's cousins still made zero moves to greet Hermione after Milomir breaks the ice. She stares down at the outstretched hand that was adorned with what was clearly costume jewelry. 

Hermione didn't usually take note of that kind of thing, but she was observant, and it was extremely obvious under such bright lights. Milomir should be a rich heir, so her brain registered it  and filed it away as something odd. Even his tweed jacket was shabby with the unmatched trousers that she was certain Pansy would have commented on if the timing was different, the wrinkled muggle polo underneath and the scuffed old leather shoes. Honestly, the rest of his cousins were better dressed and more put together than him, if only a little messy from travelling to St. Mungo's after the news about their grandfather. One wizard even had some soot on his chin still. 

"Come on," Pansy didn't want Hermione's attention to stay on any of them when she'd rather go inside the private room. Her hand rested on the door handle, "Let's go in."

At this time, a different man interrupts when he catches Pansy wanting to barge in without them, "Where are you going—shouldn't we be introduced? She's your wife, isn't she? Or is it really all fake like they say?" He sighs, "How unlucky you are in love again, Pan."

There is no real sympathy, because he only looks down on Pansy. Literally. His eyes hover in places that they shouldn't, as if he could see straight through robes. Hermione really doesn't like that predatory look in his eyes when staring at Pansy's back. She had the urge to block his view or gouge his eyes out. 

He's older—perhaps the same age as Mihael and Milomir, had the same Parkinson browline, strong nose, and had light brown curly hair that didn't have any products or style to it—just cropped, but otherwise his facial features could be mistaken for any average man on the street. His clothes screamed he probably had some money, but it was all muggle brands based on the logos she recognized. Hermione even unfortunately noticed that the man's cologne was the same as Ron's 'nice, but pricey' cologne that her friend would only ever wear for social gatherings. But, while Ron used his sparingly to one spray, this guy might be dousing himself daily. Hermione understands that the cologne smells nice, but it wasn't that nice. 

Hermione assumes the blonde woman next to the man is supposed to be his wife. Compared to her husband, the wife was more quiet about her choice of clothing—but, the pair of diamond earrings must have cost a fortune. The sour woman nudged her husband rather harshly into the ribs as if she had noticed the staring too, but he ignored his wife, still waiting for his cousin to introduce them to Hermione Granger. 

Pansy doesn't turn around. Her knuckles turned white when she squeezed the door handle tightly as she was forced to introduce her own wife to everyone else, "'Mione, this is my cousin Borimir, he is the son of my Third Uncle, Petar—just call him Borti. We all do. He and his wife Mirabella are in talks of divorce…You want to know why?" Not really, Pansy— "because he has thoughts to fuck me for the inheritance!"

!!!

Borti twists his now ghostly pale face into anger. Somebody gasped. Hermione isn't sure if it was her or not. Hermione's entire world had lurched forward when hearing what Pansy just said— Excuse me? He thinks about what?! It became a whiplash of new information that Hermione isn't sure she wanted, nor could she stomach. Now Hermione felt her intuition had been right in wanting to gouge out Borti's eyeballs. Her brow slowly wrinkles in disgust, and her hand that was about to shake with Milomir's stops in mid-air, as if she wanted to instead reach for her wand. The secret part of her heart is not liking others to covet her wife.

Pansy peers over her shoulder this time and hardly gives anyone breathing room as she continues her introductions, "Everyone, this is my wife, she doesn't like slimy bastards, death eaters, cheaters, or cousin-fuckers. You all potentially hit the three out of four, Congrats."

Hello?! What? The corridor was silent!

One of the other cousins finally chuckled under his breath, grinding a newsboy cap anxiously in his hands, "Eh," It trailed for a bit,"I think Borti is the only cousin-fucker here." 

The man didn't elaborate or deny the other accusations. 

This cousin had soot on his bristled chin, neatly combed hair with auburn highlights, broad shoulders and was fit. Hermione had to secretly admit he was kind-of handsome if it wasn't for Pansy exposing her cousins. He wore a tight-fitted short-sleeve polo that had black round sunglasses tucked in the breast pocket. When his arm muscles moved, Hermione could see a sliver of pale beige skin that met his tan-line just slightly hidden under the sleeves. Even wearing light cropped trousers with leather loafers, but no socks. Hermione did a double take at the wizard's clothing choice. Was he on a yacht before he got the owl? 

No one else defended themselves. It was absolute crickets among the rest after being exposed. Pansy's cousins were fine with being accused of being Death Eaters, cheaters and slimy bastards in front Hermione Granger, but they drew a line on being associated with 'cousin-fucker' by Pansy. 

It's only Borti who is sputtering on trying to say something now. Hermione knew that Pansy was purposefully manipulating her own righteous temper to scare off the wizards, but she doesn't mind too much. That just means Hermione's instincts were right to remain on guard against them if her 'innocent' wife was siccing Hermione to attack them. 

"You…bitch…you..." Borti wants to find something nasty to say back to Pansy, but thinks better of it with Hermione Granger drilling holes into him with her eyes. 

His back sweats and he has to swallow back his own shame and words. Borti turns to reassure his own wife instead, but Mirabella wants to only slap his hand away. Borti awkwardly pulls it back before she does. Hermione doesn't blame her, but why is the witch still standing here pretending to be a couple with him? Hurry! Get your Parkinson alimony!  

But, Hermione doesn't know anything about the pairing or much else besides what was just exposed. If she had asked Pansy for more information, Hermione would have learned that Borti doesn't have that kind of money and that Mirabella had to stick around so that Borti could ask his grandfather for some money. While Borti had delusional plans of getting his own witch lover cousin to fall in love with him, Mirabella was just as delusional to believe that Borimir Parkinson would just hand his grandson money. Borti wasn't even a favorite!

While Pansy's introductions already made Hermione recoil in disgust at the men in front of her, she soon overheard another wizard's stinky breath. One finally had something to say about the other accusations that Pansy had about her cousins. 

"If that is how you want to be about us with your wife, I get to call you a scuzzy cunt to my girlfriend without any retaliation," He lazily enunciated each word as if he had all the time in the world, and that he wasn't bothered if Hermione heard him.

Calling my wife a bitch or cunt is one thing I can't really defend, but adding scuzzy—you're just a misogynistic prick. Hermione's curls crackle with magic. Who is this guy?  

Dark beady eyes, slim nose, the Parkinson browline, polished leather shoes, and slicked back hair that might be lighter in color without it drenched in potion hair products. Some might find his put-together appearance handsome, but Hermione just thought he was greasy.

Pansy held her own though without any need of her wife interfering, but didn't yet give a name to this cousin, "No, I'll just notify the MLE you have a woman locked up in your cellar."

The cousin furrowed his brows. "It's no wonder you didn't add it to your accusations against us—you're a liar, Pan. So, who would even believe you? Unlike the rest of the world and Borti, I don't subscribe to any of your…" His eyes fell over Pansy's clothing of choice with disgust then, "...premium membership to 'Strokes of Serendipity' nonsense, so don't try to act in that little dress expecting me to just go along with your words," 

Besides Milomir, who had grown quiet with his eyes shifting from Hermione and to the cousin who had just spoken— waiting on her reaction to see what she would do during such a confrontation , or the preoccupied Georgi who was still having a mini-panic attack; taking off his jacket and shaking it around for good measure, there had been murmurs of agreement from the other wizard and even Borti's wife. 

Hermione didn't think that Pansy was showing anything 'premium' of what you'd find in an adult magazine. There were muggle women who showed this amount of skin all the time, and it wasn't even that distracting. Pansy was wearing robes for goodness sake!

Pansy exposed a bit more about her cousins, "You just hate everything I do, as if your notebook isn't filled with drawings of naked women—and you know, I wouldn't be shocked if I learned you did a commission of me for Borti!"

"No. If he did, I'd decline him."

"Only because he can't afford your rate!"

There was a lack of denial after what Pansy said.

The silence caused Hermione to speak up. "None of you should have your eyes on my wife to start with!" Where the hell are your morals?!

Her heart felt like it was boiling with disgust and rage and Hermione was even starting to develop a headache from having to listen to this nonsense. Hermione can't believe she has to tell a family that, but it just reminds her that past the punchline about a wizard's dating pool, it was apparently still a SERIOUS problem that the Ministry of Magic has to intervene in— what was even more insane was that it wasn't even about being pureblood for the Parkinsons, it was about an inheritance! 

From the stuffy heart and headache, there was this growing sense of pressure up against Hermione's chest as if something was sitting atop her, no, as if something wanting to break forth from herself, and she had to ignore the ringing in her ears that was starting to take on Bellatrix's own cackling voice— enticing her to lose control. No, I don't need to hear from you! I won't do that! don't need to be violent! I can handle this without making everything worse. I'm not you!

Borti thinks that Hermione is solely confronting him given the topic at hand, "N-now, hold on. My cousin is making it sound worse than what it is…She's been calling werewolf and playing the victim since she was three years old!" He then turns to Pansy with an uneasy expression and his eyes clearly display a message that he wanted Pansy to call the Big Bad Golden Witch off, "Everyone already had a good laugh at me, Pan. We talked it out. It's over. Stop bringing that up!"

Every time one of them opened their mouth, it was only them digging themselves a six foot hole.

"Shut up." Hermione snapped at Borti and the Bellatrix that was in her head. It's summer, but there is a chill that surrounds the wizards then. Borti instantly clamps his mouth shut.Hermione was not going to take any of this lightly even if she was going to control her temper. 

But, the other cousin wasn't falling for any bluff or warning. He shifts his attention to Hermione as if looking down on her like she was a bin of rubbish, but his words are still directed at Pansy, "Paid good money for this prized hellhound...but she just yips and barks. Not at all like that trained bitch, Bul— "

Something came alive in her wife first when Pansy was about to hear 'Bulstrode' try to leave the man's mouth. He choked on his words with how fast the witch had spun around from the door at him. Pansy's robes swirled and fell behind her. Her blackthorn wand was quickly drawn and pointed at his chest. 

A purple light shot forth from Pansy's wand, aiming for the two men in front of her— the unfortunate cousin that was in the way of the actual cousin she had wanted to target. Two brothers, as if in tune to each other's movements and resembling a pair of professional duelists, defended themselves against the attack—one unsheathing his wand to deflect Pansy's spell while the other blocked the deflected spell with the toss of his own cap in time before it hit anyone else. 

The spell struck the news cap. It fell to the floor with a plop before it started to animatedly come to life. It chomped aggressively on the wizard's leather loafer—looking more like a snarling little dog to Hermione. The shoe lifted itself and stomped on it harshly to put an end to Pansy's charmed fabric monster. Hermione could imagine the whimpering noise if the cap could make noise, but her eyes zoned in on the wand pointed at Pansy instead. The feelings of war came back to her. Bellatrix cackles and screeches. Do it. Do it. The wand is pointed at Harry. The minutes. The seconds. It's all garbled radio noise. The urge to save him. No, her! Pansy Parkinson. The urge to save her. The wand is pointed at Pansy. Stop it before—

The broad man stood his ground defensively alongside his brother then not knowing of the fight Hermione was having within herself from losing control, "Don't try us, Pansy! You'll lose such a duel with childish tricks!" 

With her spell having been discarded by the two, Pansy tried not to show she was embarrassed with the wands pointed at her. "Lower your wands."

Catching sight of the wand starting its movement to cast a curse, Hermione snapped and Pansy's words for her cousins were suddenly drowned out entirely. 

It was instant—Pop! Pop! Pop! Such a ridiculous sound, yet it brought terror with it as everyone's ears heard a multitude of several more pops and their eyes looked back behind Hermione for the source of it—a cloud of darkness was hurling down the corridor towards them with little source of natural light in the windowless corridor to combat it. 

It was clearly the commercial bubble lights that were being popped out of existence one by one, but that didn't stop Mirabella from being the first to scream. At the same time, taking advantage of the situation while everyone's attention was on Hermione's destruction, Milomir cast, "Expelliarmus!" at the wand that was still half-hazardly pointed at his sister—a red light hit the hand and the wand flew over Georgi who was crouched in fright with his face in his suit jacket to pray, " Oh, Medea! I'm only twenty-eight years young!"  

Milomir caught the wand just as it seemed the darkness was about to swallow them whole, but it all came to a stop as Hermione was able to finally reign in her emotions and an eerie silence fell over the group. It caused everyone to look up timidly at the spared floating bubbles. The light that was still hanging over their heads created long shadows in the hallway. None of them were brave enough to look directly at Hermione Granger, but the bright sparks in the dark golden curls were more visible now with the low lighting.

Hermione losing control of her emotions had been an accident, but none of them knew that. They all believed that Hermione Granger was purposefully intimidating them—showing how much power resided in her magical core, and how she could instantly control her own destruction within a millisecond. 

"Don't try me ." Hermione coldly tells the wizards. Her spiteful nature made sure to remember their faces for her Hex List later. 

The wizard she had been glaring at hides behind the muscle that had aided him against Pansy just seconds ago. Both brothers stand uneasy at having to face Hermione instead now. Cowards. Hermione's jaw tenses. The broader cousin hesitates, but eventually calls for Milomir to return the wand to his brother. Milomir had been polite to toss the wand back, but Hermione's spite would have much preferred he kept it or snapped it in half. Boyan didn't say more, but kept a cautious eye on Hermione while keeping most of himself behind his brother's shadow. 

Her 'dear' wife verbally adds to Hermione's threat, putting her wand away and relaxing her own shoulders this time, "Boyan, unless you, Borti and Rumen want a permanent residence on the Janus Thickey floor, I'd be careful of your actions towards me. This is your one warning, after this my wife doesn't have to hold herself back with any of you. Now…I do have my forgiveness fee of 10,000 Galleons, you could always pay that."

Borti. Boyan. Rumen. Likely all three brothers? Hermione assumes Boyan was the one trying to test her temperament and that Rumen is the big lug in front of her with soot on his chin. 

Pansy formed an 'innocent' smile after talking about them having to hand over money if they wanted to survive Hermione Granger's wrath. Her cousins knew that Pansy was silently laughing at them now for having tried to extort her lately. ' Who is going to extort who now?' 

Now that Hermione proved that she was willing to defend her own wife, they shouldn't be so bold in the future—Boyan tested Hermione, but now both brothers were likely having flashbacks of Millicent Bulstrode. Boyan hiding behind his little brother for protection was proof of that. Rumen wasn't always buff after all—he used to be just as scrawny as Georgi, but after an incident with Millicent, he had trained specifically to combat against any physical threat that Pansy brought to the table against his brother's dueling prowess. 

"..." Borti personally didn't think he deserved to be threatened like this though. If anything, he believed Pansy was the one to rile that mad dog of hers first! Igor Parkinson's children were all like that! None of them were innocent! Thieves, Drama Queens, Extortionists and Liars! The brilliant witch's reputation was more than enough to make him behave! She didn't have to show off! He wasn't like Boyan and Rumen. He never wanted to pick any fight with Hermione Granger! He didn't even have that kind of money just lying around either!

Rumen is the only one to try and argue with Pansy, " You pointed your wand at us . We should be allowed to defend ourselves." For having to be threatened along with Boyan and Borti this time he was quite offended. He looked to the floor at the ripped and stomped newscap of his. Rumen pointed down at the pitiful thing,"Also, you owe me a handful of Galleons—"

Pansy cuts him off, "You know you're lying to the wrong person, right? It can't cost more than sixteen sickles. It's not even enchanted."

A simple Repairo would do the cap just fine then, but Hermione wasn't going to volunteer in fixing it. 

He scrunched up his face at Pansy calling him out on that, "It's my favorite cap!" Rumen's ears burned a bright red as he tried a different tactic, "Can—can I have my free warning back in exchange and we can call this one even, Pan?" Poor Rumen tried to negotiate. 

Hermione guesses that this wasn't the first time Pansy's said such nonsense as a forgiveness tax to her cousins, but Hermione didn't care about 'free' warnings or a forgiveness tax, because all three men were still going on her mental Hex List, right above Blaise Zabini.  And, more than likely, Pansy knew that. 

By being married to a powerful witch, Pansy didn't have to negotiate anything with Rumen. "Don't you think that with you still standing here is a better deal than the guy Hermione had to deal with last night?"

Hermione shifted her attention from Boyan to Rumen and he instantly shut his mouth. The bulky man pressed up against his brother for protection like a baby owl. Much like Borti, Rumen took Hermione's presence seriously enough. 

Georgi, who had eventually given up on ever finding whatever he lost in his suit jacket, finally had his eyes slowly fall on Milomir suspiciously who had still been waiting patiently close to Hermione's side. 

His voice interrupts and cuts the tension between the other three and Hermione,"Careful there, Granger, Milo has a habit of taking what isn't his! In fact," He pointed aggressively at Milomir, "Give me back my pocket watch—you know it was my coming of age gift from grandfather! It's not my fault you pawned yours!"  

From the sour faces at Georgi's reminder, the rest of Pansy's cousins seemed to have never personally received a watch from their grandfather when they came of age. It was tradition in wizarding society for a newly adult wizard to receive a watch—be that wrist or pocket and it was considered very sentimental and important to have one. Ron and Harry both still had their own; Harry's a cherished second hand from Molly's late brother Fabian, and the witch's equivalent were usually a necklace. Having been muggleborn, Hermione didn't have such a tradition.

The attention shifted to Georgi's outburst then and Borti was quick to take the opportunity to put the focus on someone else "Everyone check your pockets," He included his wife, "Mira-bear, check yours too, he might've knicked more than just my little brother's pocket watch!"

Oh, so, Borti was actually Georgi's brother . If Hermione had a clue of the dynamics and relationships she was dealing with here, besides just being confused by Georgi's accusations against Milomir, it would have seemed like Georgi had helped Borti and Boyan purposefully to get the attention off of them. Such an alliance wouldn't have boded well for Pansy who watched with little surprise about her brother being a thief. 

Mirabella huffs in disgust at her nickname. She turns her cheek and even rolls her shoulder to remove her husband's hand from her. "If he wants the ring then he can have it…but it's really not worth the effort. I don't even think it's real Goblin."

Borti is even more embarrassed of being called out for being a cheap husband. "W-well, that'll keep him out of our pockets! Good one, Mira-bear."

"Don't call me that."

The two other wizards were at least quick to check their trousers from Borti's advice. 

Pansy gives Milomir in front of Hermione an ugly look, "Milo."

Milomir couldn't hide the corner rising from his lips. He didn't deny that he was a thief. It seemed that before Pansy and Hermione showed up, Milomir had a plan from the start to cause disturbance and rob his own cousins.

"Relax. I just wanted to shake hands." The wizard reassures only his sister, but lets his ignored hand fall to his side now that it was a lost cause, "I wouldn't have taken anything from my own sister-in-law…" 

"It's not her I'm worried about."

It was him that should worry if he tried to rob me ! Hermione's bracelet and wedding ring were expensive, but both were enchanted to return to the owner so Pansy's cheap brother could go ahead and have his hands torched for the fun of it if he liked. Hermione wouldn't go easy on him either.

She was still a little shocked though to find out Pansy's brother was a klepto. "Are you serious right now?" Hermione still couldn't wrap her head around what she was experiencing and her signature scowl was still very visible. 

Right. Don't trust Ministry Officials. Professors. Friends. Rats. Cousins. Brothers. Never did she think she had to add those to a list, but there had been a Friend's Dad once with an asterisk added to it. Never trust a father who had a daughter imprisoned by Death Eaters. That was all Hermione could remember to stay vigilant against when it actually ever came to family, but they were no longer at war. You think one would count on family. Hermione was so used to the Weasleys. Not even Percy was this awful, he was just obnoxious. 

Milomor shrugs, but since the jig was up, he sifts through his own shabby tweed coat, and then tosses a silver pocket watch back over to Georgi, "Hey, it's not my fault that Georgi can't keep things in his pocket."

Georgi, the victim from start to finish, strains his voice and clutches tightly to the silver watch that was tossed to him, "It was in my pocket until you stole it!"

The door of Private Room #2 cracks open then, and Pansy is forced to take a step back as a tall man with dark hair and his matching mustache appears from behind it. The door opens out wider, and it causes several of the men to put on their best faces and backs straight once recognizing the face. Rumen, after a short comment from Boyan reminding him, wipes the soot off his chin.

It's Igor Parkinson. He looks exhausted if not a little angry, but Hermione thinks he must always look like that. She has never seen the wizard smile unless it was sarcastically or there was someone getting screwed over that wasn't himself. She can't imagine any happy moment in her father-in-law's life that would make him laugh or wear a genuine smile— Igor was probably grumpy when his kids were born too. 

Thick eyebrows furrowed together and Igor scolds the younger generation, "Is there any reason to cause such a disturbance in a ward at your age? Have you not been taught to behave—You're hitting your thirties— yes, including you, Pansy. You can't hide from Father Time." 

He looks over his nephews, son and offended daughter, but Igor's eyes simply glossed over his daughter-in-law as if Hermione might have just cast a disillusionment charm on herself. 

But, that simile falls apart as her 'dear' wife turns directly into her to hide the scowl that was almost readable, 'I'm going to ignore that old bastard for calling me thirty…ignore him…ignore him…'  Pansy holds Hermione's arm to preoccupy herself, her nails feeling like a kitten unsheathing its claws 'innocently' and poking the skin. With such an image in Hermione's head, Pansy's behavior seemed a bit cute, but Hermione controlled her own facial features to remain neutral and ignored the sensation. 

Boyan speaks to his uncle, "Well," He draws it out slowly, "My father taught my brothers and I plenty of manners…but, I can't say the same for what might have been going on in your house…First Uncle." 

The shade wasn't at all subtle. 

Igor doesn't mind embarrassing his nephews and exposing their side of the family, "My brother Bogdan, you say? Didn't he have several counts for laundering, tax evasion and market manipulation in the Balkins in '03?" 

??? Can somebody in this family just introduce themselves properly without throwing everything at me at once? 

Rumen had to hold his brother back who looked about ready to attack his uncle for mentioning such a sore spot about his own dad, but Boyan still clears Bogdan Parkinson's name—the lazy enunciation of his words turned into a rushed response, "Our father was a victim!"

Igor hums, "Yes, I've heard of people claiming to be Imperius when they're caught doing horrendous crimes…but I never heard of a wizard claiming it over foreign taxes until I sat in on one of your father's trials."

Both Boyan and Rumen turned red. 

Milomir whispers low to Hermione, Pansy and Georgi ( who is scooting away when Milo leans past him ), "We've never killed anyone, that should be worth something,"

Georgi raises an eyebrow, "Boyan hasn't either."

Pansy couldn't help but comment, "Be for real! Don't act like he hasn't tried…"

"Yet, you're still here." Georgi sounded more upset about that.

This caught Hermione off guard again , "What?"  

Georgi suddenly chokes on his own saliva and has to clear his throat before answering, "N-nothing," 

Her 'dear' and 'innocent' wife laughs at her cousin's own switch up.

The mumbling of the four causes Igor to look over at them again. "Why are you still standing out here like a bunch of mooncalf? Go inside!" But, finding it was a bit difficult to see them in this poor lighting, he squinted suspiciously at the four, "Actually…who the hell caused it to get so dark out here?"

Rumen opened his mouth this time to answer his uncle, "That'd be your daughter-in-law…"

Well, that could only be Hermione, because Cassandra wasn't present.

Pansy rushed to ask before her dad could start publicly reprimanding her for her own wife's temperamental magic, "How is he?"

Igor hears Rumen, and chooses to get to the point with his daughter instead, "Your grandfather is stable for the time being. He heard you out here making a ruckus, and wants you to give him some company," This ' you ' didn't have a name attached to it, but everyone knew that it was specifically said for Pansy. Compared to the rest of them causing noise out here, Borimir Parkinson only tolerated his granddaughter's bad behavior, "Come on," Igor gestures with his hand to usher them in through the door, "the Healers gave us the approval to enlarge the room. While inside," He caused the group to halt before they could even get through the door with a pointed finger,"None of you anger your grandfather, you know the consequences."

The Parkinson grandchildren bobble their heads in understanding, but Hermione didn't. Do I? Hermione didn't know what would actually happen if any of them upset the Head of the Parkinson House. The very, very few times Hermione met Pansy's grandfather, Borimir was maybe a little stern, but she understood that being his 'resting face' like her own, given how his words and mannerisms were always polite to Hermione even though her scandal should be enough for him to hate her like Igor. Hermione was tugged by Pansy to follow her pace into the room. 

Milomir follows behind, but Igor takes notice of his son's appearance with disgust on his face as if he smelled something foul. He grabs the young wizard by the collar of his tweed jacket before Milomir could slip away, "Boy, you look worse than a mistreated house elf wearing snot rags—" Igor pauses, and then casts his eyes over Hermione to provoke her next, "Oh, was that insensitive?" Extremely. "My apologies," I doubt it, "But with—" He purposefully denies her own hard work, "The help of my daughter's contributions, an elf can now make more than Milo ever could, so don't be offended for the elf's stead, Granger." 

Pansy warns the two not to pick a fight in the doorway. Hermione held herself back, but when walking past the grumpy old man, their eyes met, and both shared clear dislike for the other.

'Waste.' Igor's dark green eyes seem to read. 

Hermione doesn't mind cursing him mentally back, 'Old Bastard.'

Milomir is used to his dad's bristly personality. "Love you too, dad. And, hey, look at you all put together, not even a single bristle from el macho is out of place—"

"Shut-up." Igor lets go of the collar, but self-consciously brushes his mustache. 

Georgi seemed to have a preomination that his uncle might close the door on him. He bumped through Hermione and Pansy to race first into the private room to see his grandfather—

The man's whole body tilted forward and his face instantly went splat onto the floor, causing Hermione's eyes to widen at the painful sight in front of her. There was a groan of words that Hermione didn't quite catch from Georgi, but clearly showed it hurt just as bad as it looked.

Pansy coldly stepped over his 'dead' body without giving her cousin a single downward glance, "Seems a threshold counts as a crack."

With him in the way, Hermione could only step over this same 'dead' body. Georgi was perhaps afraid to raise his head and inspect the injury, so he stayed face down, but his whine could be heard from the opening of his hands, "You're lucky she is here, or I'd have pulled you down with me by the ankle!"

Hermione knew it must be herself who the wizard was talking about, but by the look of the scrawny man with his twig legs and arms there was no way he could possibly drag Pansy down with him. Her wife easily weighed more than him in breasts alone, so there was no physical threat to Georgi unlike Boyan and the others. The poor wizard seemed more like a comedic effect. 

A middle finger from Pansy was exposed from behind her back as she walked away from him.  Even though Georgi definitely couldn't see it with his face covered, the rest of them could. But, no one said anything to Pansy and Georgi's childish antics besides a few eyerolls. It seemed the light bickering between the two was common. Hermione chose to ignore it too. 

The private room was decorated rather lavishly, though perhaps dated for the times. From a floral rug at her feet to brass holders with no candles on the walls, and the furniture were antiques—perhaps made of walnut, but Hermione wasn't an expert. The room even came with a small kitchenette. The layout was a bit like Ron's tiny little flat that only had one open living space, a tiny bathroom and closet. Bed. Kitchen. Couch. All in one room. But, St. Mungo's private room was more furnished for guests than Ron's bachelor pad could ever be and the women of the family seemed to have already taken up the spots.

In the large bed sat Borimir. He looks more comfortable in bed than what Hermione had been expecting when hearing he had been sent to the hospital. The dominant genes that were noticeable in the men of the Parkinson family clearly came from Borimir Parkinson. Strong jaw and browline, but he actually had the button nose that both Georgi and Pansy shared and even dark wavy hair, though the old wizard's hair and sideburns were becoming a shade of salt by the day with stress. His usually healthy appearance has drained since the last time Hermione met him. He is chalky pale and he sounds like he was trying to hold back something from the throat—he is unable to hold back the cough then and Hermione instantly feels the tension in the room, but then it ends, as if he had only been clearing his throat and everyone relaxed. 

"Pansy, there you are…" In front of his younger grandchildren, he tries to pretend he wasn't sick.

He raised his arm out in the direction of Pansy, and it caused the others who were standing by his bed to part and look back at the younger generation finally entering the room. Borimir's crow's feet around his eyes had tightened as he smiled with a twinkle in those golden flecks that he shared with his only granddaughter. 

At the sight of her grandfather, Hermione's hand was instantly let go by Pansy; the warmth disappearing with it. The pretty witch rushed over toward her grandfather's awaiting hug and Hermione could only watch the back of her.

Borimir shifts his head to look behind Pansy and acknowledges his granddaughter-in-law with a short nod and polite smile. Hermione is polite with her own hello, but she doesn't interfere further about his health. She wasn't actually part of this family to ask such personal questions. Instead, without Pansy at her side, Hermione really does just stand around like a mooncalf out of place; quietly staring wide-eyed at everyone else who looked back at her. 

Behind Hermione, Borti and Mirabella enter after. Both winced and stepped over Georgi themselves. Borti had no interest in helping his little brother. A woman that must be Georgi's mother had hurried over instead and pushed through the divorcing couple to comfort her son. 

Borti glared at the woman and muttered to Mirabella, "She could have gone around us…" 

Mirabella responds sarcastically, but with similar feelings attached to disliking the woman, "Oh, your step-mum can't help but worry over her precious twenty-eight year old baby, Gee-Gee," 

Georgi's mum is already at her son's side. Her whispering was way too loud, so Hermione heard everything that was being said to Georgi who was scrunched up in the fetal position on the floor. 

"Oh, Gee-Gee, sweet Gee-Gee, get up. Why are you always so clumsy? Clean your face up for your grandfather and push your way in, won't you? Don't let that little b— bee, little buzzing bee," Pansy's aunt corrects; her voice changing into song and eyes lift cautiously up to Hermione, before falling back to her son, " take up all of your grandfather's attention, okay?"

"..." Pansy can be a buzzing little 'bee' sometimes, I get it. 

More eyes then shift to Hermione in the same way as they had outside—cautious and calculating, and as if she owes them seven million. Thankfully, Hermione recognizes Yvette and Mihael, whom she doesn't owe any money to take cover with. Both stand off to the side with Mihael's pregnant wife Cassandra who is sitting in one of the plush chairs. 

Hermione notices that throughout the room, the Parkinson Family were split into clusters, though perhaps the word should be 'factions ' to a family branch one had relations with— the branches being Borimir Parkinson's sons. 

Borimir has three sons in total. First Son: Igor, Second Son: Bogdan, and Third Son: Petar. The trio are often respectfully called First Uncle, Second Uncle, and Third Uncle by their niece and nephews. Hermione isn't sure which one was Bogdan or Petar. They seemed to have no interest in introducing themselves at all. Only cautiously sizing her up and keeping their distance. If Pansy was next to Hermione, she would have likely informed her that the men were just being weird about the inheritance and not to pay them any mind. Igor, Bogdan and Petar couldn't inherit anything of value for themselves— Igor willingly forfeited for Mihael and Milomir, Bogdan couldn't be trusted with money, and Petar…his forced commercial marriage to the Crockett Family that manufactured magical cleaning products sealed his fate of the little usefulness he could offer to Borimir Parkinson. 

Just as Boyan and Rumen were wanting to follow in after Borti and Mirabella, they were fully stopped by Igor at the doorway. 

He began to close the door in their faces with a well-sounded excuse. "My apologies, nephews. The room is now at full capacity, but since your…morally bankrupt, if not financially , father somehow taught you children to uphold good morals, surely, you will allow for your cousins to see your grandfather first with that most generous heart of yours."

"First Uncle, you just said that the Healers—" The door slams in Boyan's face and even when the door handle rattles on the other side it can't be opened. After a frustrated bang against the door by what must have been Rumen, silence settled on the other side. 

If Bogdan noticed that Igor purposefully closed his own sons out, the man didn't say anything besides glare at his older brother for it—which was suddenly the easiest way to identify him for Hermione. Large frame, but slim legs attached underneath, he might have been as fit as Rumen in his glory days, but it was now lost to age, his auburn highlights that blended into his stylish and combed brown hair was caught in the light, his shared browline of Borimir, and Bogdan even had noticeably light gray eyes that must have come from his late mother's side.

Bogdan nudged his eldest son beside him to stop glaring at Hermione Granger. This son wore silver frames, had tufts of white blond hair and compared to his brothers, he seemed to take after his mother who was sitting down beside him. Pansy's Second Aunt was pretending to dig around in her clutch purse as if that would keep her from having to socialize with anyone. Reasonable. If only I had a good book with me to keep from socializing with my own in-laws…

Borti tries to politely greet his grandfather with Mirabella, but Borimir only hums an annoyed response to his grandson and barely even gives him a glance over. He clearly didn't like this grandson. This caused Borti to scowl at the back of Pansy, as if he was blaming her for that, before having to awkwardly crab-walk his way around the bed and over to his blond cousin to speak with him. He never did greet his own dad, Petar. The two even looked a lot alike too. Petar had opened his mouth to say something when his son had to walk past him to get to the blond cousin, but he ended up awkwardly closing it again when Borti just ignored him. Hermione felt a little sorry for Petar, but again, if her wife was at her side, Pansy would explain that her Third Uncle Petar had years to be Borti's father, but did nothing about it. Hermione shouldn't feel bad for any of them. No one in the Parkinson family was innocent

Borti and the blond wizard were similar in age. Hermione assumes that the two must get along at the family gatherings the way Borti made a beeline straight towards him and left Mirabella and Petar behind. The two share a handshake and exchange words about work. 

"How are things at the company, Ivalo? Did you ever find out about that factory supervisor position for me in HR? I was hoping for an answer back in May, but you…never owled back?"

Ivalo laughs it off, "Sorry, Borti. We only have factory worker positions left. If you have your W.O.M.B.A.T certificate and are spell-mastered, I think we can get you on the assembly line though."

No, Borti didn't look too happy about being on the assembly line when he himself was a Parkinson. 

In Hermione's other ear, she can still hear Georgi's mum behind her, "Look, Boyan and Rumen are out, you don't have to worry about them. Just get in there—elbow yourself in if you have to." She grabbed her twenty-eight year old son by the scruff of his collar, and the woman was able to lift her own son up off the floor as if he really only weighed a few stones. She cleaned Georgi up with a quick swish of her wand. 

Unlike Borti, Milomir didn't care to show his face to his grandfather. He completely avoided the old man and sneaked behind several of his uncles and cousins to reach his mum and brother. Hermione quickly follows behind Milomir to stand with Yvette. 

Milomir was more open to greeting his mum and brother than he had originally been with his own little sister, but that didn't mean the same for Yvette and Mihael when they only acknowledged him with a curt nod. Cassandra didn't even care to look at him. 

The wizard even seemed more approachable to Hermione now that he measured out her temperament, self-righteousness and her bottom lines— as long as he doesn't pick a serious fight with Pansy and Hermione, including to keep his sticky fingers out of their pockets , Milomir knew he wouldn't have to experience Hermione Granger's wrath himself. 

Pansy's mum greets Hermione with a side hug, and updates the situation to Hermione with a whisper that couldn't be overheard by others. "It's the Gillylungs. He's trying to hide it now in front of Pansy, but a dark liquid keeps filling up in the lungs and no matter how much the Healers drain it—it keeps coming back. It's the old age, and he can't hide that forever."

Unable to hear his own mum, Milomir curiously turns to his brother and leans in to whisper for his own answer to the situation, "What's up?"

Mihael simply says, "Gillylungs,"  Though there is nothing but resentment for his own twin when speaking to him. 

"Oh, shit!" Milomir curses, but is then smacked in the middle of his back by Yvette's palm for raising his voice to that. It merely only surprises Milomir, making the man stand a little taller, and rubbing the dull feeling out with his hand. 

"We don't want your sister hearing it from you ," Yvette even had a sharp eye to Milomir's other hand that slipped into a pocket, "Give back your brother his calligraphy pen! What did I tell you, three?" 

Milomir and Mihael both mouth softly to themselves as if they heard it enough in their childhoods, 'If you're gonna be bad, you better be damn good at it', 

Yvette ignores her twins and carries on with her nagging, "If you embarrass me in front of others, you're gonna look a whole lot more embarrassed when your father is through with you."

Milomir then mutters to a stony Mihael who has his palm up, still waiting to receive his calligraphy pen from his thieving brother, "That too, I forgot she liked to use that threat." 

Probably because threatening her grown children with their father doesn't exactly work anymore. 

Yvette Parkinson was a witch who loved her dignity, pedigree and reputation very much, but despite her background she isn't a very social woman by any means. She usually wears large sunglasses outside even on a cloudy day so that she doesn't have to make eye contact with others, when shopping Yvette goes down the least busiest aisle or stall just to avoid people she knows, she thinks any stranger who talks to her is selling her a scam, if her children cry in private for something that can't be fixed with a spell or money Yvette is the type of mum who will act as if she is having an oncoming headache or tell them to keep their tantrum to a minimum because, "Mummy hasn't had her afternoon Spell-Sangria, yet!" If her children do something in public , she will then immediately sic her husband to be the bad guy. Yvette will even make up an excuse on the fly to get out of social gatherings she can't be dealt with—the amount of times a relative supposedly died can't be counted and not even her children are spared, but if anyone does any of these things to her, Yvette will act as if it's the end of the world and resemble someone in particular when throwing a fit. Pansy . But, if Yvette likes you, then she will actually be very tolerant. Which actually makes the middle-aged woman easy to socialize with. She isn't like Narcissa Malfoy. There is no social quiz that Hermione has to pass or worry about failing.

Hermione thinks the reason why Pansy says her mum likes her is for the same superficial reasons as how Yvette tolerates her own children when they do anything. 'If you're gonna be good, you better be damn good at it'—helping to save the wizarding world from a dark wizard probably gave Hermione enough credit to survive the woman's scrutiny and disappointment for the next unknown amount of years with her marriage to Pansy. Hermione is a lot better at doing good than she is at being bad. She might also like the fact that she didn't have to raise me and I don't annoy her. 

"Give it back," Yvette forces her adult son.

Milomir makes another poor excuse this time, "He practically gave it to me!" But, under the watchful eyes of Yvette, there is a silent transaction between brothers.

Hermione focused on what Yvette said about Borimir. She couldn't really understand how the man could have contracted the Gillylungs . It was a magical waterborne disease. It came from a wizard swallowing large amounts of contaminated water—most noted to be the cause of grindylow droppings, hence its other name: Grindylungs . It wasn't contagious, but could be life threatening. Usually curable in healthy and young wizards, but only if drained in time and an older wizard's lungs might continuously fill up with the dirty liquid without any improvement, causing further trouble like eating and sleeping. Did Borimir almost drown in a dirty lake infested with grindylow?

Pansy was already sitting on the bed fussing over her grandfather and asking if he was hungry—there was a fruit basket beside the bed, and she volunteered to cut fruit slices, but he only declined and tried to reassure her, "Oh, no, no, nothing that can't be taken care of by Healers…I'm already better, don't I sound much better?" Pansy didn't even know what he sounded like before and how could he be better when he was placed in a private room? "Tell me, how was the Nott-Lovegood wedding—before your wife had to handle that wizard, that is. I've heard enough about that on the wireless this morning, I want the celeb gossip!" He sounded like a young boy eager for any outside news, but Hermione thinks the man is just trying to find a subject that would distract Pansy from his own illness.

Borimir and Pansy were interrupted by an embarrassed Georgi who pushed himself into the conversation at the expectations of his own parents. 

"Grandfather, I've been so worried about you, I rushed myself in without even looking!"

Pansy sneered when Georgi's shoulder sharply jutted her out of his way and she had to shove back at the grown man trying to act cute. "Like hell you were..."

Borimir had a face cramp when his grandson shoved through, but he did his best to not reveal his favoritism, despite it already being well-known, "Georgi, er, yes…I saw that. Were you at the wedding with Pansy? I heard the Nott boy invited a few celebrities. I bet you could have gotten an autograph with that quidditch player you've been gushing on about—What was his name? Carmac?"

His grandson hesitates, "C-Cormac." And has to awkwardly admit that he wasn't that well connected with his old classmates since moving back from Australia a few years ago, but then perks up with sparkling eyes, "Hey, Pan could give it to me," He looks to his cousin, like he was wanting to trap her into telling him 'yes' in front of their grandfather, "you know him better than me, right?"

Pansy doesn't mind not giving her cousin a face and lifts her chin as if she's looking down on Georgi, despite him actually being taller than her while she sat on the bed and he stood, "I don't have any other Nogtails connected to my floo network besides you…but even that might get blocked after today."

"Hey—"

Hermione ignored the scene of Borimir chatting to his grandchildren who were vying for his attention. She lowers her voice and asks Yvette with some concern instead, "How did he even get that—the gillylungs?"

Yvette shakes her head, "Igor isn't sure where he got it but I know that Borimir was at Petar's house this weekend—" 

Unfortunately, it was slightly hard to ignore Pansy and Georgi still in the background childishly elbowing and shoving to be in the spot next to their grandfather. Pansy was clearly winning by already sitting on the side of the bed next to her grandfather, but Georgi's boney elbow was being used as a weapon. Hermione watched her 'dear' wife kick her heel into the man's leg, causing Georgi to yelp loudly. That was all bone there. The poor man had to then answer his grandfather as to why he made such a ruckus into his ear, "The biggest leg cramp of my life that starts with the letter P and ends with Y!"

Georgi's mother walks past Igor's family suddenly, and for some reason chooses to raise a very thin eyebrow to provoke Yvette. With the woman's head raised now under the enchanted lights, Hermione can see that the woman has very plush lips, a taut face, slender nose and large doe-like eyes to make up for her very thin eyebrows. She thinks the older witch was done up with several glamour charms. It might not even be the woman's real face at all. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione caught Yvette pulling out her wand in front of the other woman. Her mother-in-law doesn't cast anything, but Georgi's mum quickly covers her face protectively when she spots the mahogany wand in Yvette's hand. The witch hurries away toward her awkward husband to complain in hushed whispers about that side of the family.

Yvette furrows her brow while watching her brother-in-law and his wife. She slowly lowers her wand. "She better not start with me, or I'll deflate those botched lips and give her a new nose."

Cassandra is the first to laugh at her mother-in-law's threats. 

Milomir had noticed the interaction between his mum and aunt and also chuckled softly, "I take it you haven't had your afternoon Spell-Sangria?"

"Shush." Yvette warns her son with the same annoyed tone. "You kids just keep your eye on your Uncle Petar and her, I think she had something to do with it—"

Mihael sucks in a large amount of air, before releasing it with words, "Mum, it was you who killed her rare Niffler's Fancy. She only has it out for you. I doubt she would try to hurt grandfather. Georgi really hasn't done anything promising to warrant that."

None of the four in front of Hermione were phased by the idea though. So, are casual attempts of murder common in this family?  

"Where do you think I poured out her tea in the first place?" Yvette places her attention back onto Hermione with some concern, "Don't take any concoction she offers you, Hermione. Pansy's Third Aunt hasn't washed out her family cauldron since '79— says it adds flavor. I can't imagine what might be growing in that damn thing! And, she's supposed to be a Crockett…they should be known for cleanliness, but not that woman."

"..." Is nobody concerned that you were almost poisoned by your sister-in-law?

Borimir finally caught sight of Milomir hiding among them. 

"Milomir." His voice was soft, but there was still a hint of being stern with his grandson. "You walk by and not say a word to me, boy? It has been months since we last spoke."

There was a hush of silence in the private room when Borimir spoke. Hermione felt a chill crawl up her spine, but it turns out she isn't alone, because Yvette seems to roll her shoulders beside her. Borimir didn't acknowledge Borti, so would the old wizard have even treated Milomir any differently? Hermione was aware that while she didn't know the full story, Milomir wasn't as welcomed in the family, because of something he had done that went beyond his thieving and lying. 

The family knew better than to question the old man's mood, but it was still written on most of their faces; including Borti's. The smirk falls from Milomir's unshaven face, but he seems to know exactly what must be said to appease the Head of the Parkinson Family. 

"Grandfather, had I known you wished to see this face of mine, I'd have piled in with Georgi and Pansy when I came in…"

Borimir slowly closes his eyes, as if he was only trying to calm the irritation he felt with internal thoughts, but eventually reopens them and grunts, "Forget it." He then sits up a little straighter with the pillows behind him, and waves the rest of his grandchildren over, "Come here—Milo, Mihael, Borti, Ivo, it's been a long time, hasn't it?" He then looks to his first son with a stern expression, "And, don't be an arse, Igor." Igor clucks his tongue, clearly knowing what he was being called out for. 

Pansy's father headed over toward the closed door to let Boyan and Rumen in. Much like his father, Mihael obeys without question when called over by the old man, but Milomir stays next to his mum. Looking down at his scuffed leather shoes, he pats the back of Yvette's hand lightly as she tries to urge her own son to follow his brother. 

He reassures his mum with a low voice, though Hermione and Cassandra both can hear him too, "I don't need to, mum."

"But, if you win then you can ask for—"

"No." Milomir's tone was firm. "That spell has long been cast, I can't take it back—and I don't think I want to… to play anymore ."

Play? Win? Is Borimir going to play a game with his grandchildren?  

While these words are firm to his mum, there is relief in Milomir's voice as if he had been free of some burden that Hermione didn't know about. Borimir didn't call him again, letting Milimor hide beside his mum. 

Hermione looks over at the bed that was starting to become crowded again.  If Hermione hadn't already been told by Yvette, she wouldn't know that the old man had contracted the gillylungs. Borimir finally reveals a smile to Borti who leans down to be similar in height to his grandfather sitting down. The grown man seems to now resemble only an innocent and small child as his grandfather ruffles his hair and those dark eyes sparkle admiringly. Borti opens his mouth sweetly, and Borimir chuckles at what must have been said. After witnessing how Borti had been snubbed earlier for what she would have thought was good reason, part of Hermione felt the interactions were all so… fake —as if they were both in a play and saying their lines between grandson and grandfather. Her eyes shift to Petar who watches on with jealousy—be that his own father is affectionate to someone that was never him, or that his own son looks to his grandfather with such eyes and never himself. 

Borimir then turns to Mihael. He tells him that he was happy that Mihael was willing to join—"used to tell me how you were too old for such games, Mihael." She can only see the back of Mihael, but there is movement in his shoulders.

Bogdan pats his eldest on the shoulder and gives him some encouragement, "Win, Ivo." Compared to his other unruly sons who Igor was having to bring back in, he was more proud of this one. 

Pansy's Second Aunt lifts her head up from her clutch this time and does the opposite in wanting him to think of his youngest, "Wait for Rumen."

Boyan had been left to the wayside as a middle child. 

Hermione notices Pansy becoming anxious. Digging her nails into the comforter, and her eyes darting around the room at her cousins and brother joining her around the bed. Hermione's brow wrinkles as she takes notice of her wife's behavior. She had gotten the impression that Pansy liked to play games, so why was the witch suddenly anxious over some silly game?

Those flecks of gold caught Hermione's brown eyes, and Pansy's fingers stopped digging into the bed and she stared back. Hermione couldn't read the silent message that her wife was trying to convey to her. She tried to read the movements of Pansy's lips, but there was nothing. Hermione felt a bubbling frustration at herself for being unable to understand Pansy Parkinson. That she didn't know the pretty witch at all. 

Pansy cuts away from Hermione, and leans toward her grandfather with confusion and concern, "Do we really need to play that game at a time like this? Aren't you—aren't you unwell?" 

"You used to love this game, Pansy." Borimir hears the complaint in her tone, and affectionately pats his granddaughter's head, his hand smooths the messy strands down. "Just treat it as me wanting to spend time with all of you. It's no trouble for me."

The mention of this game causes Hermione to turn to her mother-in-law and brother-in-inlaw for an answer. 

It's Milomir who snorts, and softly narrates the truth under his breath, "I wouldn't call it 'love'. Even if it is the watered down version, this was the only game we boys had let Pansy play."

Yvette doesn't comment, she watches Igor open the door for the two extra cousins. Boyan and Rumen knew exactly how to act. They rushed in with worry about their grandfather and complaints against their own uncle. Again, it all seemed so perfunctory to Hermione with their grandfather that she wanted to barf. 

"What are you all doing?" Boyan takes notice of how the others have already circled around the bed.

Rumen shuffles along with his repaired cap back to grinding in his hands. "We'd have brought your favorite medenki, but the Welcome Witch confiscated them."

Borimir chuckles at their sweet act and even teases Rumen, "Ah, let her enjoy the honey cookies—maybe she'll ask for the recipe, and wouldn't you be the charming wizard she'd ask?"

His grandson blushes red, "M-maybe."

Borimir turned back to Boyan, "Good. Good. How about we play that game that you kids used to play with me—let's see you all fair now as men" His eyes then shift to Pansy, "and lady."

The two brothers make eye contact and Rumen gives Boyan a curt nod. The two didn't need their father's guidance like Ivalo nor their mother's concern, the two had always been a pair.  One would think they were the fraternal twins of the Parkinson family, and not Mihael and Milomir.

A grin cracks at Boyan's face and he turns to his grandfather again, his eyes slowly falling over Pansy as he answers, "If it'll cheer you up, grandfather. Just promise the usual when I win..."

"I never break such promises." Borimir agrees with a firm nod. 

Beside Hermione, Milomir smiles at the exchange, but it never reaches his eyes, "Yes, even the rotten plums can unfortunately play."

Not liking how this all sounds, Hermione inquires  for more information from Milomir who seems willing to answer her questions.

Milmor slightly glances over Hermione and back again to the crowded bed, "I take it Pansy never told you about her childhood," I only ever knew one side of Pansy Parkinson, "but we used to make up games when we were kids," He chuckles, "Strategy, word, escape, tag, duels…you name it, we made it, and played it…" But, his chuckle dies quickly after, "This game…we only ever played it with our cousins. It only ever had one rule, but then our grandfather caught us—almost fitting, I suppose." He didn't imply what that meant, "The original game, it was…too brutal for his tastes, so while he allowed us to play it, we had to change the style, and add one other rule." Milomir shrugs his shoulders then, "I think he liked the game's potential of testing us, letting us prove ourselves to him…by allowing him to change the game our grandfather promised that he would reward the winner with whatever they wished…so, we call it his game now."

Hermione was intrigued suddenly about Pansy's childhood—constantly making up games… she has actually met that Pansy Parkinson. The pretty witch made up games to combat the quietness or to gain information. From yesterday when they danced together, for today of fighting over the furniture, to how she enticed that 'supposed' Unspeakable in telling her how to identify fake badges, and to the many drinking games Pansy would try getting others to play at Moonvine, including Hermione, but she never personally stayed long enough to enjoy any of those types of games.  

"Rule One:" Milomir broke through her thoughts about Pansy, "Don't let grandfather catch you. And, Rule Two:" His eyes fall on his little sister, "Pansy must be allowed to play."

Hermione suddenly remembers staring up at a wall filled with pictures, staring at a little girl in sailor dress who shared the scowling look of the twenty-seven year old witch who complained about the sight of the photograph, "—can you imagine being the youngest and only girl out of all boys? I was always the odd one out in their rules and games—jealous, I'm sure they all were, as my grandfather adores me more!"

For a male dominated family that would leave out the only girl the second rule made sense. Even Ginny would talk about how she had to force herself into her brother's games when they were all kids. 

But, the first rule seemed rather odd. What kind of game were you playing as kids?! Surely there was no way the old man was going to get up out of bed and chase a bunch of thirty year olds around? That's ridiculous! It was a large private room, but it wasn't an open field!

Milimor puts an end to her silly thought that was taking form, "So, we had two versions of this game," He looks on as his grandfather pulls a shiny galleon from behind Pansy's pierced ear, as if Borimir had been taking lessons with Mr. Weasley on muggle magic tricks, "I think a bright witch like you would prefer this one—it's logic based, not really physical. It's the safe version— It's grandfather's version. Boyan calls it the boring version, but he'll still happily play for a chance to win a prize." Milomir paused, "I mean it…when I say you can ask my grandfather for anything . He will promise it. He always keeps his promise."

Hermione does love logic games, and is eager to learn the contents of this one, "How do you play?"

"In this one?" Milomir laughs again, it's breathy and heavy this time, "We have to find the galleon. And, as to how—that's up to you . Remember, there are only two rules in play. So, you can cheat, use magic, team up, you can trick others—in order to disqualify them, and you can even end the game in under a second. It's a free for all, but…if you are caught trying to search for grandfather's coin…it's over, and you're out of the game. To be fair," Milomir looks over the room, "We usually have a large property to roam to use such tactics against each other, but this room is far too small for that. So, it'll be a basic game."

The gold coin disappears from Borimir's fingers. The old man sets the boundaries, confining his grandchildren to this one room. Everyone begins to quietly ponder where the coin must have gone and figuring out how to find the coin without their grandfather knowing. Magically summoning the coin must be a lot harder to try here. Borimir must be a wizard skilled in sensing traces of magic and he must know the traces of his own grandchildren's magic. 

Hermione had been correct to assume this, because when she suddenly sensed a burst of magic falling over the room in search of the coin, Borimir knew automatically who the culprit was, "Georgi, my boy, you're out."

The scrawny wizard cursed, and complained, "Pansy kicked me in the leg just now, and I lost concentration!"

Hermione's 'dear' wife continues to sit on the bed with an innocent expression, "I was stretching my leg out, again ."

Borimir smiles weakly, "Well, I didn't see it." That was the rule of the game after all. Don't get caught by grandfather. 

She was curious about how this game used to be played, "You said you had two versions?"

Milomir crosses his arms and is still watching the game in session, his eyes darting from each cousin as if he was internally thinking of what their tactics might be in order to grab the coin, "Yeah, the original."

This time Yvette interrupts before Milomir could explain, "Oh, that awful game—I forbid you from playing it when I learned of it myself." She sounded so disgusted and shook her head in memory of it.."That damn game…" Yvette swivels her head to her son with her tone firm, "If you're going to tell Hermione, you better call it by the name you boys gave it, Milo."

Hermione doesn't understand why a made-up children's game would upset Yvette— how brutal and awful was it?

"Fox Hunt." Milomir abides. He uncrosses his arms, and runs a shaky hand through his unkempt hair again, "Instead of searching for a galleon like you see now, we used to…" He trailed for a bit, "We used to hunt Pansy down on grandfather's property…like she was a fox…"

Hunt…down? Hermione felt a chill in her heart when hearing what the children used to do. Fox Hunt. No wonder Yvette despised it. Hermione can only think of the hunting practice that had recently been outlawed in their country by muggles. Hermione has only ever seen historical documentaries as a child. Hunters used trained hounds to chase down and kill a fox while keeping up on horseback—though, Hermione supposes it could even be done on foot. Rules and regulations always depend on one's country for the 'sport', but usually if a targeted fox was able to get in the hole, it was let go by the hounds. As if it was the fox's 'reward' for outsmarting them and the game. But, it was much worse when the poor thing was caught. The visuals in the documentary were awful. She had been well aware even at the age of six that it was all tv magic, but it had been edited so realistically that all Hermione can think of to this day is the pitched and painful cries as the fox was caught by the hounds and shredded apart while the hunting master watched on for the thrill of the hunt or perhaps to call it pest control. To Hermione, it just seemed brutal and cruel. At least today there were alternatives to continue this… time-honored equestrian sport … by using fake tails soaked in aniseed or artificial scents for the hounds to chase.

"—it was not a game of tag or strategy, it was a cruel game that we boys created out of jealousy and the prefix of allowing a whiny, but favored Pansy to play with us." Milomir describes to Hermione, "Boyan loved that there were no limits to what he could do—we normally didn't allow for the two to play together, and I can't say Ivalo was ever nice when he'd catch Pansy. There had been…many times where Mihael had to negotiate for our cousins to let our sister go. Of course," Milomir seems to perk up with some optimism, "Pansy caught on with how the horrid game was made against her, and she adapted. Like most foxes do." He smiles weakly to Hermione, "It wasn't always easy to catch a vixen like Pan, and in her most desperate attempt to survive against us, she escaped and tattled. We couldn't even be mad at her…you know, because she was the fox."

You mean, because she was able to escape the odds against her, that was her reward. It didn't help Hermione feel any better to learn that Pansy eventually was able to outsmart the boys. There was a sickening twist in her stomach, and Hermione can only try to cool down the injustice that she felt was growing in her heart for a little girl that had been tracked and bullied. She tells herself that they were just kids jealous of Pansy's favor, and the boys were eventually caught by their grandfather—forcing them to play a much safer version of the game. There were no more foxes to hunt, only a gold coin. 

Hermione still asks, "You stopped playing that version after you were caught, right?"

Milomir hums in thought and nods, "I guess we haven't played that one in a long time…"

But, if his grandfather can't see it, then how would anyone know that they were still playing that version of the game? What Hermione didn't yet know was there was a game in the making outside this private room where Pansy had become the fox once more. All hounds were booing and howling; anticipating for the great hunt as they watched the hunters climb atop their horses—the eventful day drawing closer and closer as their grandfather sat stranded on a bed with the pendulum slowing to a crawl above his head. 

Yvette explains further to Hermione on where the inspiration for the brutish game likely came from in the first place, "A Parkinson doesn't know life , not until they're desperate enough to claw and fight their way up through the very dirt and ash they were born from and breathe fresh air…When they were kids, Hermione, they used to hear this line so many times from their grandfather's teachings—of what his own life had been like, of what it meant to be Parkinson. Borimir himself believes it should be a right of passage in the House of Parkinson to survive all the odds against them. That's where they got the idea from—these boys don't believe that Pansy deserves it."

What didn't she deserve? The inheritance. That cold chill returned to Hermione's heart. 

Cassandra, who had been listening along, covers her pregnant stomach affectionately, but her eyes stare ahead at her husband who stands between Borti and Ivalo. She asks a question that Hermione now wanted to know the answer to as well. 

"Who was the leader that rallied the party and sent them on that fox hunt?"

Milomir wets his throat by swallowing, "Well, usually, I was the one that made up all our games, but it was Mihael who made up that hellish one. He had overheard from the adults that Pansy was the only name to be written down in grandfather's will."

Hermione felt something lodge in her throat, and her voice was hoarse as she tried to hold back what she had actually wanted to say when she turned on Milomir, "Why are you willing to tell me this—about what you used to do as kids?" Hermione knows she was the one that asked, but shouldn't Milomir be ashamed of that part of his childhood of bullying his own little sister? Hermione's blood was boiling at the thought of what Mihael and Milomir did— as Pansy's older brothers —they were all sickeningly worse than Pansy!

Milomir shrugs lightly, "Well, I think it's most appropriate to hear it from me. Mihael certainly doesn't have the heart to face it and tell you himself."  

Of what he did…of what they both did…of what they're capable of—of how greed, power and jealousy can take hold of even them. Pansy holds tightly to their summer memories in Plum Manor, but her brothers haven't been those boys in a very long time, and it was time to face that reality. The hounds were ready, even if the fox wasn't. 

Hermione understood that Milomir was planting the warning in her head—that in this very room filled with family could be Pansy Parkinson's very own enemy. All because her wife was the apparent sole heiress to the Parkinson fortune and company. It could possibly even mean the person who exposed Hermione and Pansy could be here.

But, did that go for Yvette? Igor? Pansy's uncles? Her aunts? Even her own grandfather?   

Milomir cautiously analyzes the emotions that form and disappear across Hermione's face as her thoughts start to run wild. 

Yvette is the one to add, "If you're anything like her, you need to be prepared…"

"Who?" Hermione wanted at least one of them to clarify, but she thinks she already knows. It was the one person who would have killed a man for Pansy Parkinson if he ever laid a hand on the heiress. 

Milomir winced as if he was having flashbacks and answered for his own mum, "The only outsider that has scared us worse than our own grandfather..."

He respected his little sister's wishes of never being allowed to say her name. 

Millicent Bulstrode.

When it looks as if his grandchildren are struggling, Borimir breaks the silence and converses with his own adult children in the room where they thought the gold coin could likely be. Igor is pouring a pitcher of water in a glass and coldly asks if it was on a person. Yes. Bogdan hums and haws, muttering about how that was going to be his own question, before finally asking instead if it was inside of anything. Perhaps. Petar's wife whispers into his ear, and he asks if it was hiding underneath anything. Perhaps. Borimir calls on Bogdan's wife—Hermione learns her name was Helen. The witch asks if it was within the radius of the bed. Yes. This answer causes Rumen to sit at the end of the bed, and his hand smooths down the sheet, but this only causes Borimir to disqualify him. 

Hermione's eyes fall onto Borimir's aged hands where she had last seen the coin. His fingers are tightly moving together as if he's rolling something along the knuckles. It may look as if he was only doing silent spells to catch his grandchildren, but Hermione thinks that was just a false imagination to the mind of a wizard. Borimir had already hinted where the coin was hiding. Hermione had taken note of him playfully pulling the coin out of Pansy's ear. There was no real magic behind it—as she didn't sense any magic being cast from it, so it was just a trick. Hermione has never successfully pulled off the coin trick, but she knows how the trick works. She had learned it from her dad, who used to pull sugar-free lollies and sparkly stickers out from a young patient's ear to make the tears stop. Even Mr. Weasley occasionally displays his talent and enthusiasm for muggle tricks —coins, tissues, and even a deck of cards. 

The point is that this wasn't new to Hermione. She wonders if Borimir's idea was taken from the pick-pocket in this very room. 

In one ear, she can still hear Milomir talking to her. "If grandfather calls on you, a Yes or No question will suffice, but he might hand over more information. The answer could help Pansy out."

Pansy didn't seem like she was playing, besides having disqualified an easy target like Georgi. Hermione didn't see any other movement or sense any magic from her wife—she's not even sure if Pansy was able to do wandless magic. Mihael on the other hand had a closed fist behind his back, using his fingertips to trace spells on his inner palm. Borimir finally turns to the three of them. Yvette asks if the coin has been tampered with. Yes. Hermione watches how Mihael starts to reverse his own spell then. He might have almost exposed himself and wanted to pull himself back. Tampering could mean a number of things, but perhaps in this case, the coin being invisible ; making Borimir's trick a combination of muggle and magic. 

"Hermione," Borimir finally calls upon the new addition to the family, "Do you have a question for me?"

Hermione doesn't remember if Professor Burbage ever went over sleight of hand tricks in Muggle Studies third year, but Pansy must have learned a few methods of swiping objects from her days of being Slytherin or even from her own brother. She hopes that Pansy can understand this hint she is about to give her. 

"I saw you pull the coin from Pansy's ear earlier. Do you like muggle magic tricks?" Hermione still wasn't comfortable with directly calling him by name or grandfather, and given her relations, she couldn't just call him Mr. Parkinson. 

From the sickly face, a smile rises from hearing Hermione's observation and question, and even the golden specks within Borimir's eyes sparkled, "Yes, since I was a boy actually. I used to run to the muggle magicians in the streets. Watched them pull hares from hats, pull fruit out of thin air, and scarves out of a man's ear once—" He pauses in memory to it, and then was eager to hear more from Hermione, "I take it that my little game isn't a challenge for the brightest witch of her age?"

How was it not obvious? He showed us all before he even began—he practically gave the answer to Pansy anyway. "I wouldn't say that," How humble of Hermione, "but I believe I might know where it is."

Oh, wizards. Their logic and eyes stuck in spells and silly wand-waving.  Once again the attention falls back on Hermione, and she suddenly feels like she owes this family more than seven million galleons. 

Rumen acts much braver with his grandfather there to protect him from Hermione, "I say that's cheating if she says it!" 

Milomir defends Hermione, "You know there are only two rules in play."

Rumen crosses his arms and huffs, "Favoritism is what this is—she's Pansy's wife." 

Even Georgi muttered softly alongside his cousin, "...as per usual."

Coming from two men who were disqualified it just sounds like they were sore about it. 

Pansy side-eyes her cousin, while bravely taking the risk to ask, "Grandfather, is the coin behind your ear?"

Hermione would say it was still wedged and hidden in between his fingers, but Borimir still has stars twinkling in his eyes and wasn't disappointed by the question. Pansy was just thinking further ahead to the 'presentation' that her grandfather wanted.

"How about you check?"

Only, that was a trap, right?  Wouldn't she lose? Pansy couldn't just pluck it from her own grandfather's ear that easy! If it was that easy, the men would have already been diving onto the bed with their grandfather and stealing Pansy's own move. Not to mention, Pansy is directly asking him about the coin...

None of the men stirred. They hoped to think of different ways without getting caught, but only coming up with ways to 'summon' it to themselves, and none of them wanted to take that risk of their grandfather sensing their magic. 

"'Mione," Pansy beckoned her over to the bed that she was sitting on. "Come check for me?"

Hermione's keds step across the floral rug then. She didn't understand the part of how she was going to pull the coin herself when it was in Borimir's hand, but she only did as her 'dear' wife asked. 

She politely lifts her fingers to the backside of the old man's white hair, but she doesn't expect to find anything. It isn't until Hermione feels something solid in her fingers that she was wrong, and slides out the galleon with everyone watching. Under the enchanted lights the coin shines. Hermione is dazed as to why Borimir transferred it from his hand and into her own. 

A bubbly laugh escapes the pretty witch beside her though. Pansy takes the coin from her puzzled wife, "I won!" It was clear that Pansy was just relieved to end this game. She leaned affectionately into Hermione's arm while her cousins pouted. " We won." And under her breath, Hermione could hear, "...finally stop playing this game…"

Boyan was now upset, "How could Granger be given the coin?" Hermione shouldn't have been able to just pull it from behind his grandfather's head at Pansy's request. 

Borti was also confused, "And, how come Pansy wasn't disqualified for it?" 

Mihael, the original creator of a more brutish hunting game that they played as kids, turns to Borti to the left of him, "Then both of you forgot the entire premise as to why we play this game. We can't chase anymore, but Pansy's role is still the fox. She can't be held to our rules and standards. To us , that hasn't changed. We lost. She outplayed us."

"—she adapted. Like most foxes do... and in her most desperate attempt to survive against us, she escaped and tattled. We couldn't even be mad at her…you know, because she was the fox."

Milomir speaks up louder from where he stood with his mum, "Pan could have just as easily snatched it from grandfather's head for herself, and none of you can complain."

Rule #1 states the premise of the game, but it doesn't apply to Pansy. Pansy was Borimir's favorite. While she is playing against her cousins, they are playing against their grandfather's favoritism —Rule #2 only exists to allow for the fox to play on their end and have the same opportunity to win a reward.

Hermione blinks. Oh, that did make sense. She obediently began to hand back the Galleon, but Borimir told her to keep it.

"The winner always keeps the coin, Hermione. So, reward. Is there anything that you two want from me?"

Her 'dear' wife leans in to clasp her arms around her own and speaks up, "Grandfather, you must promise us that you'll get better."

Borimir's smile seems to slip momentarily "Of…of course, I'll get—" But, he's unable to hold back his wet cough. 

"Grandfather?" Pansy and Georgi both call out for him at the same time, and even speak to him in Bulgarian, calling him: "Dyado?" and "Dee-Dee?"

He raises a trembling hand to cover his mouth. Hermione's eyes widened as dirty water spurts forth and stains his own hand; spewing onto his clothes and bedding. Borimir's hand reaches out to push his grandchildren away from his bed, and Hermione drags Pansy away from the old man who continues to cough up the dark and stinky liquid. Igor quickly goes and tries to clear the lungs. 

Pansy frantically questions Hermione who holds her back from the bed, and her voice shakes, "What—what is this—w-what is going on?" Her weight leans into Hermione to help her stand from her own trembling legs, yet much like the rest of the family, Pansy can't look away from her grandfather who was drowning in front of his family. "What's wrong with him?! Hermione!" Pansy is begging Hermione to answer her questions— to do something! The panic only grew as images of Millicent appeared before Pansy's eyes of the Slytherin girl vomiting up dark gunk that smelled of sulfur and cursed blood. 

This same thought suddenly struck Hermione on how similar the scene of Borimir choking and coughing up the dark liquid must be for Pansy—the blooming curse was much different from gillylungs, but this scene must be too eerily similar to how Millicent had died. Hermione covers her wife's traumatized eyes. 

Hermione tries to reassure her wife's worries, "It's the gillylungs. It can be cured. It's okay…it's okay…he's going to be okay."

She doesn't know how many times she repeats 'it's okay' to Pansy who can only see the palm of her right hand. Pansy's fingers desperately grip the fabric of Hermione's clothes, and tears wet her palm. 

Hermione pulls her wand out and aids her father-in-law. But, no matter the amount of times Igor and Hermione try to clear the throat and lungs, it still continuously pours from the old wizard's mouth and stains the bed by the bucket load. The old wizard had been suppressing his symptoms since Pansy entered the room, and now he was suffering from it. 

When finding his older brother and niece-in-law unable to clear Borimir's lungs, Petar loudly shouts and calls for a Healer. 

Georgi is still frozen in place in front of bed. When catching sight of his dad out of the corner of his eye he asks a bit dazed, "Is he going to—is he—what's wrong with him—why isn't it clearing up?"

Petar pulls his youngest son back from the bed, "Georgi, you're in the way! Let the Healers get to him!"

Robes of green pop into existence and block Borimir from his family. The group of Healers try to stabilize the continuous build up in the lungs. Pansy is upset by the noise of her grandfather vomiting and choking up dirty water—just like how it had been of the planted curse in Millicent's own lungs, but Pansy kept telling herself over Hermione's own assurance that unforgivable curse wasn't like the gillylungs—how could the brightest witch of her age be wrong?

Ivalo, Mihael, Borti, and Boyan coldly watch on as if they were only waiting for the old man to drop right then. Their masks of having cared for the old man slipped right in front of Hermione's eyes. How cruel must they be to their own grandfather's life for an inheritance?! There was no emotion etched on any of their faces that proved otherwise. Only the disgusting smile that Boyan was unable to keep down. It made Hermione sick at the sight of it all and she even wanted to slap her own brother-in-law in the face for it. How dare Mihael look on and do nothing?

Only Milomir hugs his mum with concern, and turns to comfort the startled Cassandra with words, "The old man isn't going to trip over the cauldron like this, Cass…he always…he keeps his promises. He's going to get better. He told Pansy!" It sounds as if he was also reassuring himself.

The chief Healer that was in charge of the scene has his face neutral despite the chaos that erupted inside the private room, "Those that are not the primary caregivers need to leave the room,"

Hermione obeys the Healer's instructions, pulls Pansy out of the room while both Igor and Bogdan stay behind and the door closes to the sound of Borimir's heavy breathing as he finally catches air.

…And then they wait. They wait until they're soon asked to go home. 

Chapter Text

An aroma of something sweet wafted around the kitchen. Standing in front of the stove, Hermione watches the bubbles from the batter pop and sizzle from the pan. She is quiet while wearing her signature concentrated scowl. Hermione eventually uses a spatula to flip the English pancake over to inspect its golden underside. Once fully cooked and golden, she scrapes the pancake up from the pan and flips it onto a porcelain plate that already had another pancake with a warming spell.

Hermione stares uneasy at the pancake. It was just as bad as the first three batches. There had been several air bubbles in the batter when it cooked, causing a few holes and some unevenness, which Hermione learned too late that it wasn't the heat itself that had caused the issue, but perhaps that she must have over whisked the batter. 

It's ugly, Hermione tilts her head in thought, but it's cooked. An average cook would shrug it off, and Hermione's fifteen year old self would have trashed it and started all over again out of perfectionism and frustration, but twenty-seven year old Hermione on the other hand with dark circles under her eyes didn't have that kind of time to start over. Pansy was already waiting upstairs for her return…or, the witch fell asleep while waiting. Hermione's wristwatch was reading one in the morning after all. 

Hermione adds several condiments and sauces to make up for the ugly pancakes, but also for the fact she didn't know what Pansy preferred to eat her English pancakes with. A little bit of jam. A little bit of butter. A little bit of honey. A chopped strawberry. A dollop of plum compôte that she summoned from the cellar and defrosted. Oh, and what were pancakes without an unhealthy dose of syrup? 

Taking a step back from the counter to inspect her work again, Hermione was at least a little satisfied with the colorful presentation that circled her ugly pancakes. 

Hermione left the kitchen with the plate and a glass of juice. Outside there are the sounds of an owl, but it's just Gracie stretching her wings, and perhaps catching any field mice or vole she finds if she is still hungry. It turns out the owl wasn't lazy at all. Gracie was just wanting an extra extra meal out of Pansy. Walking up stairs she passed by the grumpy little Pansy Parkinson at the windy beach. Those dark eyes in the monochrome photograph seem to hook straight into Hermione's heart as she slowly keeps heading up the steps. 

She had been wanting to bring up 'Fox Hunt' to Pansy in hopes to hear that the game hadn't been as bad as Milomir and Yvette had made it out to be as adults—that it had probably been like any other kid's game where one would gain scrapes and bumps when playing out in the field or garden; tripping over themselves or dog-piling in a game of rugby.  Hermione was suddenly reminded of how the neighborhood boys used to play rugby, and while she had only ever thought it was a violent game there were clearly people who liked it; including the poor guy getting piled on. 

It was all poor timing though. Hermione still hasn't even brought up Harry's Sunday dinner to Pansy. The two hadn't said much at all since returning home from St. Mungo's. Their thoughts had been focused on the impending doom of Borimir's health. When Pansy did speak to Hermione, she had asked for her to stay with her. This time Hermione did. After their separate showers, the two sat on the bed together, Hermione had used a dry spell and even volunteered to help comb Pansy's dark hair; enviously sliding the comb through the soft and tame strands compared to her own.  

Until Pansy's stomach had growled that is…

Hermione stopped in front of the primary bedroom door that was partially left open by herself from earlier and used her foot to help push it further open. She relaxed both feet onto the fluffy clouds that was carpet. Her wife was sitting on the bed, her back resting into the pillows, and when seeing Hermione coming through the door she frantically wiped her tears away. Eyes were still red and pink from the crying, so it was a bit hard to hide from Hermione. She felt her own heart squeeze, realizing the witch had been up here crying silently while she was downstairs trying to make a damn pancake. Pansy only looked pitiful and delicate. 

Pansy eyes the plate in Hermione's hand with her watery eyes a little bright—her face showed she clearly wanted that pancake, but her words lie to Hermione instead, "I told you I didn't want to eat." 

She raised an eyebrow at that blatant lie, "You might have said that, but I had a word with your stomach and the council has overruled your opinion, Your Highness." Hermione can see that Pansy's white slip wasn't giving her wife any face and exposed the shrimp. There was a slight curve to Hermione's lips. 

Pansy pouted, "Shouldn't a queen have more say?"

"I didn't address you as Your Majesty. There is a clear distinction." You're just a kitchenware princess!  "So, what power?" The Royal family is just symbolic these days, anyways. The rudeness of what Hermione says shows on her face and her wife's own cute nose scrunched up with a similar expression.

"..." Pansy didn't know that there was a difference in majesty and highness. "I think you're fucking with me."

"I'm being historically honest with you."

There was no table besides the vanity, so after freeing up a hand by setting the glass of pumpkin juice down on the nightstand, Hermione summoned a breakfast tray from downstairs so that Pansy could eat on the bed without worry of spills or crumbs. 

"Well…I can eat it…" But, another excuse soon popped up from Pansy while watching Hermione set the plate and glass onto the summoned breakfast tray. "But isn't it bad to do that before you sleep—like acid reflux, or bloating? My stomach is going to regret that decision."

Hermione looked up from the tray and eased some of Pansy's concerns, "I think that only happens if you sleep straight after, so an occasional midnight snack isn't going to hurt you…you're healthy anyway." She then commanded Pansy with more force and handed the fork over. "Eat."

With the prongs rudely pointed at her, Pansy could only take it from Hermione and concede. "Fine." A dust of pink was still visible. "What about you? You didn't eat either." 

Pansy stares down at the options Hermione spread out for her to try. 

Jam must be her favorite , Hermione secretly thinks to herself. Or, plum in general. Pansy was very attached to the manor's plums after all.

Hermione gets onto the bed as well, "I dressed mine like a crépe and ate it while cooking yours." She ate her first two practice runs actually, but wasn't telling Pansy any of that. 

The two sit cross legged with the breakfast tray between them. Pansy takes a sip of the pumpkin juice and then sits the glass back onto the tray to chat with Hermione some more.

"Why a pancake?" It was still warm. Pansy easily cuts it down with a fork and taste tests it with a small bite of the jam that Hermione felt secretly proud of in guessing would be her wife's first choice. Pansy's starry green eyes glanced up for an expected answer from Hermione while she ate. 

Hermione suddenly felt like she was a contestant at a cooking competition and her dish and batter was being judged by Pansy personally. The idea made her feel timid about Pansy's opinion of how it might taste now. Out of all the skills and knowledge that she had Hermione was not confident in her own cooking. 

Why did I make a pancake? Hermione could have easily just slapped a sandwich together for Pansy and be done with it. She doesn't normally offer to cook for others either. Harry this evening had pushed the green beans onto her in order not to be the only bad guy to his own son, "Your Aunt 'Mione made the yucky beans this time, Jamie. Come on take a bite. On the count of three we'll do it together!" Like it had been absolute torture or something!

My mum, Hermione finally admits quietly to herself, she might be the reason behind my choice.

Before those years of attending Hogwarts, Jean Granger would occasionally make her daughter a warm and flat pancake whenever the two would come back from a snowy day of school. The first time it happened an eight year old Hermione had been sitting in the kitchen with her Year 3 Maths book placed aside, her own cheek stuck to the wooden table while having to stare at a bowl of unappetizing baby carrots and listen to the other kids playing outside in the snow. Her mum had slid away the bowl of carrots and put a plate of warm pancakes in front of Hermione instead. When a little Hermione had lifted her head up in confusion, her mum had said, "How about we have something lil' sweet today, Mione?" The pancakes weren't ever sweet like the ones Hermione had just made for Pansy, but she remembers how her mum would drizzle honey as a special treat for them. It was their own little secret from her dad who was still at work cleaning the teeth of cavity induced kids. 

Mum can't remember that little secret, but I still do…for both of us. 

"Well..." Hermione suddenly paused with what she was going to say as she watched Pansy eat most of the jam off the fork in a manner that would have embarrassed Yvette Parkinson followed with a comment of 'You act like we don't feed you around here! I raised you to be a lady not a starving street urchin!'. For a witch who said she wasn't hungry, she clearly was a liar. This lying little vixen… Hermione lightly laughs at the sight before starting again to share her memory, "I'm sure I've mentioned before that my parents never really had sweets around when I was growing up?" Pansy nods lightly to that. "They always said it was bad for your teeth—which it is, but ever so often after school when it would snow…or maybe just because mum knew I was upset..." Hermione frowns with what she had long since known of being the truth. "Mum would make me pancakes and it was considered our little secret from dad. She wasn't a terrific cook by any means, but she wasn't terrible either." She laughs lightly in thought to her mum's own cooking that mirrored her own. "Well, I'll say it was probably the best thing she's ever made me from scratch anyway." Her eyes look down at the untouched honey on Pansy's plate while in thought about her mum, "We used to drizzle them with honey. It was probably the sweetest thing we had at home. It never really did anything, I guess. The pancakes. The honey." Her sweaty hands anxiously fiddle with the hem of her cotton shorts. It didn't cure me from being friendless, it didn't melt any of the snow, and it didn't magically make me feel any better. "But, I liked it." 

I miss that fragmented memory of sitting at the table with snowflakes falling outside where my eight year old self had giggled and smiled along with mum while eating pancakes together, and there had been a warmth there that didn't come from the central heating of the house. I miss that part of myself. Of mum. Of me. To the eight year old me who secretly believed that those warm pancakes with honey really had been its own kind of magic.

Hermione never told Harry that childish thought. She never even told Ron that either. Why is that? She thinks of the conversation she had with Harry hours ago when visiting him. Hermione rubbed her fingers into the soft fabric of her shorts while in thought. Her gaze even fell to her legs that were crossed. Maybe it's all true. That I want to change…to get better, give those little good parts of myself to someone that wasn't Ron or even Lisa. Oh, why even mention her? I know I never gave Lisa anything, she had only ever been a bump in the road on my way to somewhere else. Someone else. 

"That's sweet of your mum." Pansy smiles softly down at her plate, "Are you telling me this because I told you about my bubble baths?"

"Maybe." Hermione's eyes move from her knees and toward Pansy's plate again to watch her wife start to finally dip a piece of the pancake into the honey. 

If I were more honest, I would say that I really did want to share with you that same sort of simplicity a bubble bath can give you. A simplicity that used to bring me comfort as a child. A memory of my own mum. Unbeknownst to me when I put all the ingredients in and mixed it together, I had already wanted to share this warmth with you that my mum taught me, in hopes that it could somehow make you feel even a little bit better. No, pancakes and honey can't bring back Millicent. It can't cure your grandfather either. My parents can't possibly forgive me if they suddenly gained all these memories back. The war still happened. All of those terrible things still happened to us and unpredictable things will continuously happen afterwards. At twenty-seven, I know that honey can't actually mend any of it. But, I want to proudly present this to you as if it can and I want to be praised for it by you, like it's actually a primary school report or something. For you to tell me with a smile, 'I like this part of you. The honey that you share with me. The warmth that we can share together.' And from then on my ears and heart will selfishly remember it all as, 'I like you.'

Hermione drops a cold bucket of water on herself: How naive and cheesy is that? 

To recover a bit from her thoughts, "Anyways, aren't we supposed to get to know each other?"

Pansy nods, "Yes, because I'm your wife," In name. In crime. In fantasy. It still quickens the pace of Hermione's own heart though when Pansy says it. "And, don't worry, as your wife, I'll help keep your secret safe." If Pansy was in a better mood she would have teased Hermione with a wink, but she didn't.

"Thanks." It's not like it matters anymore if you told him though. He won't know who I am.  

Pansy seems to know not to linger too long on the topic of Hermione's parents, instead, she raised her fork a little higher and pointed in the direction of Hermione. She leans over the breakfast tray to get a little closer while her other hand hovers cautiously underneath her fork in case the piece of pancake that was heavily dipped in honey drips off the side. Pansy offered it to Hermione with a smile that bloomed a thousand flowers in her own heart. 

The fresh honey was warm in color, the same color as the flecks of Pansy's gold. A small drop of it hits Pansy's palm and the sight of it causes Hermione's brain to break. She suddenly wished she could lick the honey right off the very hand that wanted to feed her. She falls straight into imagining a fantasy of tasting the palm of Pansy's hand, kiss the delicate wrist with the blue veins visible, travel up the forearm—eyes holding a burning gaze over Pansy as her lips reach her bare shoulder, tease the thin strap of Pansy's night slip and suck and lick along the milky white skin that must taste like berries with the dash of honey already on her tongue. With an intoxicated brain filled with impure images, Hermione's body moved before she could even stop it—thankfully though Hermione wasn't too far gone with her fantasies, as she didn't go straight for Pansy's hand, but for the fork that had just been used by Pansy and took a small bite. 

Pansy took back her free hand and under Hermione's own hungry gaze she licked the honey that had spilled on her palm. The fork in the other hand remained steady as it slid past the teeth and out again. Hermione closed her eyes to block out the charming sight in front of her and distract herself instead with the taste of the pancakes.

Hermione has had her own pancakes before so she doesn't think it should taste any different as she chewed. A drop of leftover honey could be felt on her bottom lip so her tongue darted out to quickly lick it clean. On her tongue she embraced that second burst of natural sweetness. There is something that actually wanted to inject itself into her heart after tasting the warm pancakes and honey with Pansy. It reminds her of winter days. It makes Hermione think of her mum. It even makes her think of what that drizzled honey had meant to her. Of wishing she was brave enough to actually tell Pansy about her naive and cheesy thoughts. Hermione could only swallow down her thoughts along with the pancake to dampen the fire that wanted to burn brightly in her heart for Pansy though.

She pulled back a bit from the breakfast tray and opened her eyes to find her wife staring back at her with a hint of something bright and hungry in those constellations. 

Pansy asked, "Is it as good as before?"

Hermione chose to cover her mouth with the back of her hand to indicate she was still eating in order to process her feelings a little slower, but then she watched Pansy take her own bite of the pancake and honey. After swallowing it all down, Hermione anxiously asked Pansy back instead, "Do you like it?"

Pansy had to finish chewing first before speaking, but she eventually did. "Aren't I inclined to say that I do after what you said about your mum?"

She wilted a bit from Pansy's own lack of an answer, "You can be honest and say that you don't like it with honey."

"No, I do like it." Pansy liked the sweetness behind this ugly pancake that Hermione made specially for her. "You must have gotten your thoughtfulness from your mum…but," Of course, Hermione couldn't be spared from her 'dear' wife's annoying little habit of never being 100% satisfied with anything. Hermione braced herself for the criticism. "...but also her cooking." Well, that was actually the politest thing Pansy could say! Maybe being Pansy's wife did have its perks. Hermione relaxes some. "It's not terrific, but it's not bad either. I don't think you let the batter settle long enough. That's a common mistake when making any style of pancake, you know? You always have to allow for the batter to rest and using magic just doesn't do the batter any justice. You have to have patience. I think that's one of the things muggles do better than wizards when it comes to cooking." 

It really felt like Pansy was a judge in a cooking competition now. Ah, so that was why there were more air bubbles than usual? That would be my impatience, but I don't really think that's a muggle or wizard thing. Hermione felt a little better about knowing the issue though instead of just being criticized. She would definitely learn from it.   

Hermione obediently nods along as if she was hearing a wise lecture from a professor and with seeing such a rare Hermione Granger humbly accepting her mistakes, Pansy can't help but play into encouraging her wife's kind actions with a smile, "Let's cook together next time."

Together. This seems enough to water the imaginary sprout growing atop Hermione's head. She eagerly lifts her head up with more confidence. "Okay. Together." It was a promise. 

Cooking together could either lead to disaster in the kitchen or it could bring them closer.

…

The two continued sharing the little bites of the ugly pancake together. The fraudulent couple didn't say much while eating, but it was nice. Just sitting with Pansy Parkinson. There was no argument or arrogance between each other. The two were just enjoying the other's company while cross-legged on the bed with a tray of food between them. Hermione occasionally catches sight of Pansy's soft smile, and there was this thought about how this smile used to spin her into paranoia back at Hogwarts, because how could Pansy Parkinson innocently smile back at Hermione Granger? Clearly the Slytherin girl had been up to something bad back then. But now… it's just wishful thinking that the smile Pansy has now holds something more for me, right?

After putting the fork down and it making a crisp sound with the empty plate, Pansy speaks up again, "Thank you…"

It wasn't going to magically cure her grandfather, it wasn't going to make the investigation disappear, it wasn't going to bring Millicent back either, but it made Pansy happy and that was the truth. 

I'm your wife. Hermione wanted to say those words back to Pansy, but she was too embarrassed to do that. Instead, "It's okay. It was a long day…"

Hermione vanishes away the tray and even the glass and plate to the kitchen sink where it would be scrubbed and washed with magic in the morning. Pansy heads back to the bathroom to clean her teeth and wash her mouth out. Hermione joined her with the same idea. 

Two women, one with dark golden waves and the other with inky black hair stood together in front of the large mirror and double sinks. There was hardly any difference in their heights when side by side and Pansy being only less than 10 centimeters behind when barefoot. Pansy grabs for her cloth band to keep back her hair from falling into her face or over the sink and then begins to look for specific potions that were either in the cupboard or was one of the few that had been left out and surrounding the sink. Hermione's summoned toothbrush glides back and forth along her teeth while she counts her minutes and makes sure not to miss any of her back molars. With Pansy to the right of her with all her clutter of potions, there was no memory of Hermione's parents haunting her in the mirrors so she felt relaxed. 

Sharing a bathroom with someone was not new to either witch after having spent almost seven years of their lives sharing one ( or more likely fighting for one ) with five to six other girls. So, neither was embarrassed nor awkward about doing so when they both stepped up to the mirror at the same time. Of course, the possibility of leaving behind a messy counter or finding a strand of hair in the sink was pretty tame compared to actually having once been vocal teenage girls that lacked privacy with those narrow sinks of bumping elbows or the few stalls that were always somehow occupied at the worst of times. 

Pansy didn't have to fight with Hermione over some stupid enchanted mirror that just loved to point out all her flaws in the morning while Tracey's elbow was an inch away from swinging into her face when girl brushed her teeth in a similar fashion to Hermione—though with her old housemate there had been more toothpaste stains in the sink and Tracey's movements were more exaggerated with an excuse to Pansy that was how muggles did it. And, Hermione didn't have to again experience Parvati banging her fist loudly on the last shower stall door to expose poor Sally-Anne with "Stop Jill-ing it in there, Sally, and get out!" when it was actually a startled and red-faced Hermione on the other side of the stall with the mistaken identity and lack of privacy. "Shut-up...I just got here, Parvati!" 

Both witches seem to have exposed their own thoughts while staring into the mirror;  their faces cringing in pain and even sunburnt. Yeah, privacy and space was still such a luxury for both the brightest witch of her age and a kitchenware heiress that they were extremely thankful to have a large bathroom suite for just the two of them!

Having used spells and potions, Pansy had finished before Hermione, but she still stood around to watch Hermione brush her teeth.

Hermione couldn't speak, so she just turned to her wife with an expression on her face that was clearly asking, 'What?'

"I was thinking…" Pansy began to comment lightly then. "We should do this more often, and you leave some of your personal stuff in here."

In order to show a believable relationship, growing closer was the most important thing now besides thinking about the culprit behind their current misfortune. If the two turn their separate morning and nightly routines into shared 'habits' like now it should create the image of a well-loving couple if not roommates. Would Lavender ever ask such questions? Likely not. Would Padma with a search warrant question why Hermione's toothbrush was in the hallway bathroom? Yes. 

Unable to say much with her mouth full of foam, Hermione just nods along to this suggestion. She isn't sure if 'sleeping' falls in that category, but it was no big deal for Hermione to leave a few spare items lying around. Hermione had noticed earlier that Pansy had already made room and stuffed a few of Hermione's clothes from the flat into her walk-in wardrobe while she had been out. Feeling a bit shy with Pansy still watching her brush her teeth, Hermione made a gesture for Pansy to turn away for a second as she spit and rinsed out her mouth. When done, Hermione lifted her head again to finally say, "Whatever has to be done. Let's just go ahead and do it." 

Such a change in attitude to her previous thoughts and feelings on the subject of their fraudulent marriage.

Pansy politely handed over a face towel for Hermione to wipe off the water droplets that dripped from her chin. Hermione takes it with a soft thanks. Finding that Pansy was willing to have a discussion about… whatever this actually was between a fraudulent couple that can kiss and share a bathroom, Hermione decided to bring up Harry's Sunday dinner. 

"As long as things are good," With the health of Pansy's grandfather in mind, "and if you're free, let's go to Harry's on Sunday." There. I asked. It's now up to Pansy to say if she wants to come with me or not. 

Pansy had taken off her cloth headband and smoothed down the tufts of messy hair while staring into the mirror, but hearing Hermione, Pansy's hand paused and she was quick to turn and actually face Hermione, "Wait. You want me to be there —at your friend's dinner? Harry's house?" The pretty witch drops her hand to her side, and waits on Hermione to back track or confirm that Pansy has heard correctly. 

Seeing the surprise on her wife's face, it seems Hermione really couldn't hide how much those dinners meant.

"Yeah…" Hermione lowers eyes from Pansy with the silent excuse of needing to clean her toothbrush from under the water faucet, "Harry and Ginny have something big to announce. I can't say for sure what it is, but a lot of people are going to be invited this time." Hermione then decides to repeat what Ginny had told her but made it her own personal decision and not something that was instigated by others. "It would be weird for you not to be there with me." Water clumsily flicks up into her eye from the bristles she was cleaning and she winces. Hermione wipes her eye with some embarrassment, she checks to see that Pansy pretended not to have noticed what just happened and just continues sheepishly, "So, um, are you doing anything next weekend? It's okay, if you are busy, and all." Saves me all the worries I had. 

Pansy's work schedule was actually empty. "No, I shouldn't have anything going on. As long as…you know, everything is good." There was still the concern of her grandfather's health that had to be considered. "We can go together."

"Okay. Good. Together." That word again. Together. Hermione figured Pansy would want to know the dress code in advance and adds, "Harry and Ginny aren't the type to force people to dress up, so we can just wear something more casual. I usually bring something from the shops to our dinners, maybe we should still do that?" Hermione was actually thinking that by having Pansy bring something it might melt the ice among the other guests— especially offering dessert. Everyone loves a good dessert!

Pansy picks up the opportunity Hermione has handed her, "I can make torta caprese—it's chocolate. I use the recipe from Blaise's nonno and it's pretty authentic."

"Doesn't that involve walnuts or something?" It was uncommon in the wizarding world for such an allergy, but Hermione preferred to be careful with those she didn't know who might have grown up with muggles and actually had it. "Someone might be allergic to tree nuts." While someone with the allergy could just avoid eating the cake, Hermione didn't want to take any risks of anyone paranoid and thinking that Pansy was trying to murder them! 

"Almonds, yeah, the nuts usually replace the lack of flour…hmm, okay, then what about a chocolate gâteau? I won't use coconut milk for it, but I do like to add a bit of coffee with the cocoa powder." 

Hermione agreed to this dessert instead. It sounded safer than almonds and walnuts, but truthfully Hermione just liked a good chocolate cake and even imagined the two of them making it together. How many faces would change when she announced it was homemade? The two made a few more arrangements between them for the upcoming busy days that were coming this week while Hermione finished up her nightly routine in front of the mirror. When she was done, Hermione followed Pansy out of the bathroom. 

There was no, "Do you want to go to bed?" between the couple. Hermione just followed Pansy's ritual of taking off the throw pillows, tossing them onto the ottoman bench at the end at the bed before pulling back the fluffy duvet and getting into bed. Inside the sheets were soft and cool for a summer night. She doesn't know what time it is anymore after she took off her watch and put it on the bedside table alongside her wand. Hermione should feel exhausted after the long day they just had, but she's never had a good relationship with sleep so now that she was in bed with the lights turned off Hermione couldn't sleep at all. 

Hermione didn't dare try and take a sleep potion in front of Pansy. The relationship she had with Lisa had taught her to be a bit skittish about drinking a bottle in front of others. There was no book on the nightstand to read in order to occupy her mind either. There was only the swirling galaxy above her to focus on. The stirring and tossing beside her revealed that Pansy couldn't sleep either. Hermione suddenly felt a hand sneak across the smooth sheets and then tug at her shirt sleeve, the hand a bit more cautious and afraid to actually touch Hermione's right arm that was on Pansy's side. 

"'Mione." Pansy's voice was timid and shy all of a sudden. Hermione tilted her head on the pillow to listen further, "I can't sleep. Will you…hold my hand?" What Pansy had actually wanted to ask was… ' will you hold me to sleep?' But, she herself had doubted Hermione would agree, so the safest and least likely action to be rejected was holding hands. 

Hermione agreed. From the pillow she turned her head to face Pansy better and took the initiative to clasp their hands together. Her wife eventually drifted off to sleep, but Hermione was still wide awake. There was no cure to her insomnia, not even with a pretty witch lying beside her. There was still nothing that could stop her mind from spinning about what happened to today. Besides just the Sleeping Droughts, there were spells to allow for Hermione to pull all these memories permanently out of her own head, cork it into a vial and put it all on a shelf somewhere. It would no longer be in her head to mull over, but that wasn't healthy. Such things only erased it, and it was not a cure. There would always be this emptiness that could be felt in the back of one's mind and if you prod and poke long enough with a wand it'll all come flooding back. 

There was a mind healer she went to once who told Hermione to try imagining all those jumbling thoughts as rubbish; roll it all up into a ball and toss it straight into the bin—for Hermione to tell herself that was where those thoughts should stay and she would not think about it again. Nobody would go digging into trash, right? Out of mind. Out of sight. Ron called the healer a quack when he heard about the method. "It's still all in there, innit? " The muggleborn healer must have had psychologists for parents to give Hermione such a thing to try instead of throwing potions and magic at her. At the time, it was worth the shot to try. It worked for a time, but not always. Hermione had even been desperate to even try hypnotism—if your mind was weak and willing then you'd fall easily into such mental tricks, but Hermione's mind had been impenetrable to such methods. Her logical side refused to give away that control. Ron was right. It was all still in there. There was no clap of the hands and I was suddenly cured and done clucking like a chicken. So, Hermione never went back to that mind healer, never saw a therapist or ever asked for help again. To say she tried it all was more to say she gave up half way on every treatment out there. If unable to drink a potion, Hermione would much rather get up and actually do something to distract herself from her mental haunts. Like, read or write, brew a potion, or even take a long walk around the garden. Outside, there was the tapping sound of rain starting to fall from the eaves of the manor. Well, going outside was out of the question at this hour.  

Her body had the urge to roll over then, but Hermione's hand had been squeezed tightly by Pansy, reminding her that she couldn't just flip over like a pancake throughout the night with her wife right beside her. Her attention fell back onto Pansy's figure lying beside her and watched the rise and fall of her chest outlined as  her eyes adjusted to the low lighting. It wasn't a calm breathing as if the witch was in a deep sleep, so she found out that Pansy hadn't been asleep at all like Hermione had originally thought. 

Pansy squeezed her hand again to get her attention. 

"What is it?" Hermione's voice wasn't very audible when she muttered the question. It was hoarse and she had to swallow to relieve some of the dryness. 

The outline of Pansy moved as the pretty witch sat up in bed with the covers of the bed sliding off shoulders and part of the end that lay over Hermione uncovered her abdomen as well. Hermione couldn't exactly see green eyes, but for some reason she could feel Pansy staring at her intensely in the dark. Pansy leaned down and came closer to Hermione's ear, causing her heart to thrash about in her chest when the heat of Pansy's lips brushed over her sensitive cartilage. 

"I changed my mind," It was soft to hear, but it drew Hermione's attention. It caused her to focus on the warm body that pressed against her and inhale the berry scent, "I want to be held by you. Like earlier today."

Earlier today? Hermione's brain worked hard to understand this statement. Pansy is talking about when we were at my flat yesterday afternoon. 

It was a habit for Hermione to profile people, and she even had a mental folder labeled 'Pansy Parkinson'. It was a thin folder with several revisions, but it was already starting to get filled up since yesterday. From the incident Hermione did mentally file away into that imaginary folder that the pretty witch seemed to prefer skin-to-skin contact whenever she was upset. She knows that Pansy liked her back to be rubbed, her hair pressed down, kissed gently and held tightly in someone's arms. Perhaps something she wished for to feel secure since childhood. All the things Millicent must have done in the past for Pansy. But, I'm not Millicent. We're not lovers. Was that really allowed? Hermione really didn't want to say that it wasn't. She wanted to do all those things too. 

"Oh." Such a simple word just fell out of Hermione's mouth. Her brain was still trying to work with her own body at this opportunity to hug Pansy close. "Okay." 

She adjusted her own position to pull Pansy inward. There was no resistance from the other witch who easily collapsed into Hermione and fit so perfectly against her. Could Pansy hear how loud her heartbeat was in this position? Soft hair tickled over her chin and neck as Pansy lowered her head to lean and face into Hermione's soft chest, one hand rested on Hermione's waist and even a leg tried to get more comfortable, it pried a little in between her own calves. With her hand, Hermione refused to let that flirtatious knee come any closer and create a disaster between Pansy and herself, so the entire leg became more obedient and rested just on the outskirts of her own legs.

Hermione sighed with relief and was finally able to remove her hand from Pansy's knee, but now she doesn't know where her own hand should go. Should it act like her buried arm that already holds Pansy? Hermione's hands felt a little sweaty then with her brain running wild with similar thoughts to Pansy's 'innocent' leg. With Pansy's large chest pressed into her torso; creating little breathing space between them and several other fantasies instead, Hermione kind of wished she could move her hands to the other soft parts of Pansy, but smartly rejected that idea. She instead went with a more innocent approach by placing her hand between the wings of Pansy's shoulders, only gently rubbing to the middle of the back and up again in order to comfort the witch while having her fingers struggle against her intrusive thoughts of grabbing the straps of the night slip.

Pansy didn't know of any struggle between Hermione's lust and good nature. She snuggled deeper into Hermione's warmth and hummed softly in content to her touch. Hermione liked how it sounded, and continued to rub and hold Pansy to sleep. 

If Hermione was able to fall asleep or not was only for herself to know, but when she woke up to the sound of her alarm and with her wife in her arms, Hermione had felt alive and refreshed. 

≪—≫

Candles floated above the Great Hall. The wax dripped within a cycle, over and over, yet never seemed to drop and hit the head of the well dressed witches or wizards down below. The enchanted night sky was open with stars and a backdrop of purple and pretty blues. Long tables were filled with a rich meal that could feed several kings. Music was being played by a choir of large toads and there was murmuring of conversation at every long table and corner of the Great Hall.

Familiar faces and strange faces all stood out with their bright and fake smiles, but Pansy could hardly keep up with who came to greet her or snub her own existence. It was the usual unnecessary comments and backhanded compliments about her relationship with Hermione Granger though. All about how Pansy was lucky to be married to a talented and bright witch like her or how Hermione was lucky to be married to a beauty like Pansy with no other adjective for herself besides being some trophy wife, like she didn't actually make more money than Hermione! Like her wife wasn't attractive?! Like Pansy wasn't talented?!

Why are you all up in my marriage?! Stop saying that you never thought in a million years that we would end up married! Witches don't even live that long! Stop trying to poke holes in my fake marriage! It's not going to sink just because you want it to! I am Mrs. Granger, stop calling me Miss Parkinson! 

But, Pansy just outwardly laughed and smiled it all off while internally hexing and cursing those nosy people and wishing she could toss a goblet of mead onto a witch's very familiar dress that Pansy had actually modeled back in the Silkin's spring issue. 

There were even the well wishes about her grandfather's health thrown in there somewhere that may or may not have been nothing more than perfunctory. Those well-wishes would cause Pansy's trained smile to suddenly falter. Pansy could only try to pick back up the smile with a polite thank you and quickly break away from one social circle to the next just to get away from that reminder that her grandfather was literally drowning in a hospital bed while she was out here pretending her life wasn't taking hit after hit. Having spent most of her adolescence in denial with a sweet smile one would think Pansy was great at playing along to such games, but she could no longer hold that same mask when it came to her grandfather's health. Not here. Not where she once naively thought 'nothing bad will ever happen to me here' to then quickly learn that bad things happen to everyone even here where she once thought was the safest place in the world. Pansy usually loves to socialize and be the center of attention, but right now she can only pretend that she isn't nauseous thinking about her grandfather and being reminded of the past by just being here where Millie died. 

Pansy had rushed straight back to the long table to hide among Hermione's friends that hadn't a clue about her life or grandfather. Where she was just Pansy Parkinson and where nobody actually wanted to talk to the likes of her. Despite the glaring or cold shoulders, Pansy considered it the safest table among most social circles. At this table, no matter what someone's personal opinion was, she was Mrs. Granger. As long as Pansy kept her hands and opinions to herself they would all be civil back and she didn't have to worry about actually being stabbed or hexed if she turned her back on them. Nobody here was cowardly enough to do that, but they were scared of the tempers of Harry, Ron and Hermione. Hannah Longbottom might be the only exception to go against that unspoken 'peace-making treaty' among the Gryffindor trio's friends when it came to Pansy, but the witch had long gone over to talk with her old friends to care much about where Pansy was sitting. 

Her eyes stare solemnly on her goblet of mead in front of her. Everything should be considered 'okay' if not great. There hadn't been any serious updates about her grandfather. There was no Padma Patil interrupting the night with a warrant either. Pansy continues to wear the same perfect smile that she has practiced and made a habit of since she was a little girl, because what was a sweetheart without the smile that made the corners of her mouth twitch and ache while silently cursing every old dustbin in sight that would make a comment if she didn't smile?  Pansy had purposefully did her best to match with Hermione's own dress tonight. A periwinkle high-slit dress with an open back. She's done her hair up; decorated and pinned it with a crystal comb that complimented the open back that had a crystal chain (pretty if not just a useless decoration) draped across her shoulder bones. She's put on evening makeup and her best glamour charms that highlighted her best features. The couple had walked arm in arm after their family name had been announced upon arrival earlier at the entrance courtyard of the school. The envious and curious eyes have even locked on to the couple in the Great Hall and it brought Pansy back to a moment in time when having wished it was her getting to take Hermione's hand and not Viktor Krum.

If only it had been anywhere else but the Great Hall though...Pansy reaches for the goblet she had been staring at and takes a sip. Hogwarts mead doesn't have any alcohol worth mentioning as it was more like butterbeer really, but Pansy did taste the honey in it. It reminded her of the warmth that Hermione shared with her that late Monday night, but unfortunately the taste of honey couldn't keep Pansy from the chill that climbs up her spine whenever she steps foot in the Great Hall. 

For Pansy Parkinson being in the Great Hall is more of a nightmare and dream all wrapped up in one. It's purgatory. It was where so many things in her life happened. It was where she made her first lifelong friends, it was where she made her first enemy. It was where she fell in love without even realizing it. It was where she felt the impending death hover over her when hearing that menacing and icy hiss that called out from the depths of everyone's minds to give up Harry Potter in order to be spared…it was where several of the dead lay during the battle…the very ones who used to do their schoolwork here, eat, laugh, fell in love and made their own friends…now only a memory, a name on a marble plaque, and a body buried. 

Something that should have never happened. It's all rebuilt, put back together, and everything is forgiven with how I pointed at Harry Potter and demanded him to be captured when it had all been about survival; life and death—a child's life and death. Him versus them. Them versus Me. Pansy takes another sip desperately wanting the honey in the mead to 'cure' this sick feeling that was coming on. Why do I always end up doing this year after year when I know I'll always feel a certain way about what happened in this hall? I still love Hogwarts, that's probably why.

Hogwarts had been like a second home to Pansy, but now there was a guilt that festers and lingers along with that love. This haunting place that only took up seven years of Pansy's life, yet felt like an entire lifetime had gone by when walking through these old alcoves and corridors with her friends. Pansy's nails scratch at the goblet as she stared down at the amber drink.

She gave 37,210,016 Galleons in donations to the school. An unusual number with great meaning. 

"What is with that weird amount?" Over Pansy's shoulder Hermione had read the Gringotts' slip that she had written out for the both of them. 

"I write it every year." Pansy didn't have any pride when she answered her. It wasn't even humble. It was just sad. 

Her wife had tilted her head and squinted hard at the weird amount until the brightest witch of her age eventually understood what the numbers meant on her own. Those brown eyes had softened and her mouth shaped into an 'o'.

It hadn't just been Millicent who had been with Pansy that night. It was for the group of thirty-seven children in total that Pansy and Millicent were in charge of evacuating Hogwarts. The twenty-one children that died in front of Pansy when the tunnel collapsed and flooded; the bodies only to resurface and lay lifeless on the floor of the Great Hall bloated and bruised and unable to ever know what their futures could have been. They had only been eleven to fifteen years old. The lucky sixteen that survived along with her—the ones that held tightly onto her robes as if Pansy Parkinson was the only safety left when the castle was besieged by Death Eaters—the ones that were able to grow up and make something of themselves; to become Aurors, to become Ministry Officials, Healers, Mentors, to become your every-day witch and wizard that contributed to magical society. The very ones that were willing to help defend Pansy's innocence against those that only wanted to smear her and call her the new bogeyman. With someone as powerless as herself, money was the only thing that she could give and ask for forgiveness, but they never asked for it. They didn't want it. They were the youngest generation that remembered the Pansy Parkinson that had wanted nothing more than to save them. To speak for them. To give up Harry Potter for them. Pansy could only give back to other children in hopes that they'll continue to grow up in a time of peace; a world where the good always prevails and evil is defeated. 

Hermione had only this to say: "It's very generous."

Pansy knew that this small act didn't patch up the things that had happened during the war. It doesn't forgive. Not for the trio. Not for herself. It doesn't bring back those twenty-one children that she helplessly watched die down there nor the many names on the marble plaque outside the Great Hall. It doesn't give Pansy a good person card. She's still the bitch from their school days. 

Her old friends and housemates were also at the summer feast too, but they were sitting at a table further away from her. None of them were interested in making friends with any of Hermione's friends. Draco was the only one who at least gave a silent nod to Harry out of respect for the other, but not to Hermione. Which was mostly mutual. Hermione only politely greeted Astoria while treating the rest as air. Their eyes occasionally caught Pansy's with little sympathy for her, even raising a smirk at seeing her being ignored by all of Hermione's friends, before returning back to their own interest of vying for Draco's attention as he sat in the middle like a prince surrounded by advisors. Draco only had eyes for Astoria who happily ate the roast beef he had patiently cut for her, but unfortunately that peaceful look on his face would break and turn back into pointed and sharp features when having to overhear Blaise fish for admiration at their table for the umpteenth time on how his Potions Apprenticeship under Professor Slughorn had been accepted come this September. 

Pansy knows by that impatient sneer on Draco's sharp face that he had heard enough about Blaise's exciting news. She bet Blaise was about to get wholloped in the face by a gold plate any minute. Blaise hasn't stopped since announcing it in the gardens earlier while waiting for the feast to officially begin, because the casanova just loved the idea of women fawning over him and Draco Malfoy being envious of him—that was over an hour ago.

"Since when did you want to be a potioneer?" Draco had asked instead of congratulating Blaise at the time. A potion expert like Mrs. Zabini at that, but even the pompous git knew not to say that last part to Blaise. There had been a nice summer evening breeze, but it never did help wipe the jealousy off of Draco Malfoy's face.  

Blaise had snorted coldly at the blond man's remarks. His goblet of mead had been in hand and his other hand in the pocket of his slim turquoise trousers while casually leaning into the wall and looking off into the distance; posing like he always does. "Do keep up with your friends' lives, Draco. I finished my potion thesis back in Italy almost three years ago—I just finally received high marks."

After Hogwarts Blaise left to study under an uncle of his back in Italy and Pansy had always just assumed it was an excuse to get away from the aftermath of the war. She never thought Blaise was actually serious about any of it, especially knowing that his mum was already a well-known potioneer among global magical communities. As it turned out, the reason they actually hadn't heard much about it from Blaise in the past was because potion masters could be slow about grading and peer reviewing other's works (most members being introverted hermits in the back hills and mountains) so their friend had just been twiddling his thumbs all this time and flirting with the entertainment industry just waiting to get his report back from some hermit and officially begin his apprenticeship with Slughorn! And, being an apprentice to the wizard really was something to brag about! Slytherins knew a thing or two on how to network and Blaise took the fastest shortcut by schmoozing Slughorn while being a member of the Slug Club back when he was sixteen. 

This meant that Blaise was actually serious about his future this whole time! His apprenticeship under Professor Slughorn would mean that he could be recommended and hired on as the next potions professor once Slughorn retired (again) as long as Blaise continues to cast his spells right. Hogwarts, for many witches and wizards with a talented background and love for learning, is considered a desirable and well sought after job. It has free boarding, free food and beverage, a decent paid salary for an educator, and a great retirement pension once you've taught there for a certain number of years. Such a golden ticket in life, but not many ever make the cut or have the experience to teach at Hogwarts. Only someone like Gilderoy Lockhart had been a desperate choice for Dumbledore since it hadn't been easy to fill in a position that was rumored to be cursed.

There was just few more raised eyebrow among them when thinking about Blaise Zabini of all people cementing a position at Hogwarts that was not cursed, because the wizard was his own Gilderoy Lockhart! And that wasn't them thinking that because they thought their friend was terrible at potions— he was terribly good at brewing! It was more from the idea that none of them had any confidence that Blaise could teach!

Hermione hadn't been wrong to say the wizard was unreliable. He once promised to tutor a few Slytherin third years in their sixth year, but ended up abandoning them entirely to stick his tongue down some seventh year's throat! It had been Theo to take on Blaise's tutoring sessions and made a small profit off of Blaise's broken promises. Pansy remembered that Theo was getting paid 10 Galleons for each student he tutored for Blaise and a bonus for any third year that aced their exams. Five students every three days with Theo's competence in being a great tutor had to have been making Blaise's coin purse rather empty back then. So, was Theo going to also be teaching these potions classes for Blaise and paid 5% of the salary? Impossible to think the business-wizard had any time to actually profit off of Blaise's unreliable habits this time around. 

Our future kids were going to be taught by this guy? Hermione would no doubt send our imaginary kid off to Ilvermorny if I don't reassure her that Theo would actually be the potions professor behind the scenes!

Blaise wasn't the only one to receive such an offer from Hogwarts either. Neville Longbottom had happily revealed to his own friends that he would have an apprenticeship under Professor Sprout in September. Watching Hermione's friends being happy for Neville, patting him on the back and bumping goblets with him while spilling the mead, it wasn't hard to compare to the ugly faces that Pansy's friends had. 

Draco had been jealous that most of his friends were all starting to rise in their respective fields— especially Blaise Zabini of all people. Not that Draco needed to do anything with his life as the wizard had enough old money to keep the Malfoy House from falling even after he paid reparations from the war, but Draco has been struggling to get admitted to St. Mungo's Healers learning program. No matter Draco's knowledge of the Healing Arts or how much money he threw at the hospital the wizard would only ever receive a letter each year that he had been 'DENIED'. 

There were some thoughts among friends that St. Mungo's was likely snubbing Draco because of his part in the war even with Harry Potter's help to pardon him. Pansy personally never thought Draco would have ever been a Healer back when they were kids, but one sweet and pitiful look from Astoria Greengrass and suddenly the pompous bastard wanted to cure his wife's blood curse by any means necessary even if it had to be done all by himself. Romantic, yes , but tragic given what they all knew about Astoria's fate when she had been diagnosed with her family's curse at the age of thirteen and how there had been no counter-curse or science discovery after all these hundred years. There had even been a very crude saying made over the years among the old families that if one took the risk of marrying a Greengrass girl the groom must not only buy a ring, but the coffin too.

Daphne didn't spare her brother-in-law when she heard him mutter under his breath about how unfair it was with Blaise's success and sarcastically commented back, "Nicholas Nincompoop could get in, but you still can't? I think you're just as good as him."

Pansy found that name familiar and knew Daphne was being… well, Daphne . She made eye contact with Blaise and the handsome wizard glanced back with his own thoughts. Daphne and Draco fighting was rare, but when it came to Astoria there was tension between the two: a pessimist that had lost all hope to find a cure for her sister and an optimist that was still determined to find a cure for his wife. 

Draco scoffed, "Such an incompetent comparison isn't a compliment, Daphne." He took a sip of his mead before explaining, " Back then, they used to just let any old cracked pot in who knew a few healing spells, now they want to act like they're prestigious and too good for some of us."

"Yes, shame we have standards and requirements these days…"

Of course that caused a reaction out of Draco, and he blew up, "Excuse me, are you calling me a cracked pot?"

Daphne had crossed her arms. Her eyes elsewhere as she glanced over other people that she thought were more entertaining than Draco, "Since you act as if that left my mouth, then yes, I did call you that, Draco. Do you actually plan to do something or just whine about it—" She finally looks back at him to deliver her line, " for the hundredth time."

Blaise muttered to Daphne, "His thousandth time." 

Pansy planned to excuse herself then to go stand with her own wife who was chatting lively with her own friends. "Oookay, well, I think 'Mione just waved at me, I'm gonna go over and see what she wants!" Hermione obviously hadn't waved at Pansy at all, but it all looked more sunny and flowery over there than the gloomy mushrooms that were Draco and Daphne. 

Draco wasn't pleased that Pansy planned on abandoning him, "What does that woman need from you?" He demanded Pansy to back him up, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back to his side.

"..." Excuse me? He ignores and dismisses me all the time! Her loyalty to Draco has always been taken for granted! This is where Pansy sorely regrets having spent half her time at Hogwarts defending this pompous bastard!

Daphne continued on,  "I guess you moping about is better than hearing you scream into a pillow and lose oxygen like Pansy. I'm certain she lost a few brain cells for doing that—that's why she's in the mess that she is in."

Pansy gasped at her 'best' friend who just dragged her own low intelligence into this despite not wanting any involvement.  "Why are you coming for me now? What did I do?"

"Oh," Blaise comments lightly while examining his goblet. Draco turned pink knowing the other wizard was about to expose his habit at age twelve, "He's done that before."

Pink in the face, Draco showed off his rich superiority in their little friend group, "Somebody who was down 20K Galleons just last year for his little escapade in Ibiza shouldn't bite the hand that bailed him out. I can always be as cruel as Theo and add interest to what you owe me."

Blaise scrunched up his face at that. "If I knew you'd hold it against me I'd have owled Pansy. One good thing about her is that she doesn't make her friends pay interest!"

Did this bastard just say 'one good thing' about me?

Daphne snorts, "Too bad. Pansy was already funding someone else's criminal activities—"

Hello? When did I become Undesirable No.1? When Daphne was in a foul mood she could really split a friend group apart!

Blaise defended himself in a righteous manner, "Bailing out a friend who accidentally broke the international statute of secrecy while drunk is not the same as bribing and funding a corrupt ministry official, Daphne."

Why did they all turn on me?! This isn't even about me! Okay, Pansy thought at the time, I can play along!

"You mean the corrupt ministry official that is right behind you?"  

Blaise sucked in a breath. He had cautiously looked over his shoulder to check only to find no one there. Blaise's tense posture relaxed and he muttered darkly under his breath, "A fox borrowing the strength of a tiger…"  

The one who had started the fight alongside Daphne had long grown quiet. Pansy turned to find Draco obedient and docile. The change of attitude had only meant one thing: Astoria 

Sure enough, Astoria had rushed over to the group rather breathlessly with a clenched fist over her heart in order to intervene between her sister's and husband's friends. Clueless as the sweet woman was, Astoria assumed the bickering had only been about Pansy and not that Draco had just somehow toed Daphne's bottom line. Astoria turned to Pansy with an excuse that she had just overheard that Hermione was looking for her. Everyone knew that wasn't true, but Pansy took Astoria's lie as a life saving grace and left anyway! Pansy could bet that seconds after she left her friends did start to gossip about her, because if Daphne and Draco could not see eye to eye on Astoria's fate they could still easily agree that Pansy Parkinson was a 'dumb cunt' and in need of an intervention. 

At that memory from earlier in the gardens, Pansy scowls now at her friends' table. She prayed to Morgana that it wasn't just Blaise's face getting smashed in by a gold plate over there!

Someone suddenly bumps against her arm at the long table. She looks to her right to find that Hermione had accidentally leaned back in alarm after she heard something disturbing from her best friends. Brown eyes flash over to find that Pansy was now sitting 'behind' her, Hermione gives her wife an apologetic smile, before lowering her head again to continue the hushed whispering with Harry and Ron. 

Ever since she had sat down Hermione had barely acknowledged Pansy— it should honestly be added to Hermione's criminal charges of being preoccupied with everyone else but her own beautiful wife! After Pansy had ran from her friends out in the gardens and joined Hermione's conversation about Neville's apprenticeship, Hermione had only hastily kissed Pansy on the cheek and Pansy wasn't even able to enjoy that moment because Hannah was giving her the stink-eye the entire time so Pansy had to run off again to find a different circle to socialize with and make her end up in the mood she is in now!

Pansy 'hmphed' as a response to that apologetic smile of Hermione's. You owe me a bit more than that silly smile of yours!  In her opinion, her 'darling' wife was falling straight back into the old habit of not caring for Pansy despite how they both agreed to put in more effort this week. Hermione should have kept Pansy with her instead of sending her off to all those fake socialites!

The trio were sitting in a line on the bench with their heads together, much like how they used to be in their days of Hogwarts where the trio didn't want anyone to overhear their plans of trouble and mayhem. Pansy could still imagine the Gryffindor trio in their uniforms, either messy or stained in ink with tufts of wild hair sprouting every which way from all three after a long day of studying. 

Pansy wanted to roll her eyes at the sight of such childish behavior of keeping their secrets from her at this age. She couldn't listen in on the trio even if she wanted. There was always this annoying buzz in her ear the harder she tried. She knew it was some convenient spell the trio learned somewhere back in Hogwarts and used it against people who were being nosy ( like me ). Pansy one way or another was going to get Hermione to teach her that spell later— what were wives that couldn't share a few tricks and charms between each other? She owes me after telling her the secret behind the ministry issued badges!

In fact, the only thing Pansy could think of as to what the trio were secretly talking about was the fake MoM badges that were running rampant again. Just this morning the Ministry disclosed to the Quibbler and Daily Prophet that the raids that happened this week in Knockturn resulted in several arrests and because of Rita's contribution the old beetle got off with a large fine for having a fake badge on her. The news had only caused the public to grow more concerned but the tight-lipped ministry refused to give out any further information. It was Hermione who broke the truth to Pansy over their late breakfast that the 'big' arrests Harry made had only been shop owners and not the actual manufacturer behind the fake badges. Pansy learned that Harry had been quite annoyed to find out Rita got a plea deal for just squeaking about a bunch of backshops in Knockturn that only sold them. 

Pansy didn't know at all about the hair-raising news of what Harry had actually found during the raids and was now just explaining to Hermione. The perpetrator had beta-designed copies of the Head of Department badges and were being sold for a high price on the Dark Market. From Harry's search only four Heads were confirmed to have been sold and among those four badges Hermione Granger had been written down on the seller's ledger. 

"The number sequence shouldn't be exact though…" Hermione had already explained to her best friends how the badges could actually be identified. But, regardless of that reassurance, the possibility of the fake badge being shown to an uninformed person created so many anxiety inducing scenarios. Hermione started thinking about she should expose the method to the media at this point so more would be informed, but it would definitely lead to a much larger problem for the ministry and probably for herself. Hermione doesn't know what happened to the Unspeakable that told Pansy, but according to her wife, Pansy hasn't seen that witch in Moonvine since! Hermione might end up getting arrested again and interrogated down in the ministry's basement by a bunch of Unspeakables.

This was an absolute migraine for Hermione to hear at a time like this!

Harry sighs and shakes his head, "Yeah, but they look the most convincing in my opinion—way better looking than the ones from two years ago. I don't care what the Unspeakables say. If you've only seen a real badge at a glance these look like an exact match. It's not shoddy work! I compared these new prototypes with the other badges we confiscated and they seem to have been made from the same source. This guy is getting better! If what Pansy says is true,'Mione…number patterns can't be that hard to solve once it's pointed out to a few wizards..."

She mutters under her breath with some annoyance at what Harry said, "True. It took just one flirtatious fox to learn it."

A vixen's voice could be heard suspiciously asking her from behind, "What was that?"

Hermione shakes her head around like a bobblehead as a response to Pansy who can only huff and grumble into her mead goblet about some 'stupid' and ' annoying ' spell.

Harry continues with his concerns, "Now your position is involved. It doesn't sit right with me. Who bought that?" Hermione doesn't know. She doesn't even know who was behind her shadowban! "I mean, we haven't even found the source of where these things are actually being manufactured. We know where it's being sold and we know who is selling them, but that's it. Pansy was told about this...what? Three years ago or something at a club? It's only a matter of time then when the Dark Market gets a hold of this information for itself. I don't even think the Department of Mysteries has a backup solution to these IDs when these guys do figure it all out."

The Unspeakables were still overly confident in their identification system— a method that once figured out could lead to a devastating security threat to the ministry of magic. 

Ron was upset by what Harry said, "It's a bit more than frustrating if it's cracked or not—" Hermione had to remind Ron to keep it down or he'll break Harry's Muffliato Charm. He lowers his voice and continues cautiously then. "They're supposed to be the ones with the high marks aren't they? I could tell you why someone would want Hermione's badge and it's not trying to get into the fucking ministry, mate!" Ron was a strategist. He could take a good guess for what it could be used for. ""It's not just about who bought the badge it's what they are going to use 'Mione's badge for. It's either wanting to frame her or use her identity to their advantage! I mean, you know what Mione can do, right? Even her head badge has special privileges."

Without need of a warrant as long as it pertains to civil and not criminal, Hermione may enter any and all premises to inspect the living quarters, backrooms and factories where an elf presides, and if there is history of abuse or probable cause that a house elf is in danger Hermione can make her own arrests and charge the employer or owner under her own office. 

Harry helplessly told his best friend that of course he knew Hermione's privileges. "I remember one of her policies just last year being a big deal among business owners. A lot were a bit uncomfortable at first by how an 'elfware' employee would actually be able to arrest them without the need of an MLE officer present…" Well, everyone changed their mind after Pansy's gold flashed in front of their eyes. "I'm guessing a good chunk of people know about it by now."

Ron turns to Hermione then, "And your badge can get you into any backroom of a business without a warrant as long as there is a registered elf, right?" 

Hermione muttered that technically yes she could according to the policy. "...but, not to fiddle with ledgers or steal money, Ron. I'm not allowed to actually touch the books or anything like that."

"Yeah, but for these lowlifes it's all about getting rich off the hard-working wizards' backs and they're gonna swipe the money."

Just the thought of that kind of injustice riles Ron up. How easy was it going to be now for someone to abuse power by just flashing a ministry badge in someone's face when the Unspeakables had no interest in fixing the issue? How many more people did this have to happen to? She understood the frustration Ron had. Hermione recently learned about how some would show off these very same badges just to harass her own wife. It was a very stomach churning response when hearing from Harry that a copy of her own badge was going to be made for just that or worse. 

Ron swivels his head back to Harry, "Important badges like that are being made and the Unspeakables don't even have the proper decency to give people a heads up about it. Are they seriously telling you they are not worried at all about this?"

Harry frowned, "It's still a criminal offense to pretend to be a ministry official, Ron. Look I'm with you. I'm not out right saying they care, but Unspeakables are at least under oath to be concerned..."

"What have they done to prevent and protect people who are just trying to make a living and not get scammed from these badges, Harry?" With the Auror's silence, Ron snorts, "Exactly! They have their heads so far up their arses that they don't see the problem like we do! We wouldn't even be having to concern ourselves with this matter if it was dealt with by us when you discovered it! You should report their incompetence on this to Shacklebolt and have the MLE take full control over the matter, Harry!"

The trio fell into an uncomfortable silence after that, because the reality was, it was impossible for them to just do that without going through the proper channels and leaderships. They weren't fifteen anymore where their world had only been bound by the castle walls and where Albus Dumbledore gave them free reign and points for their heroics despite the dangers and dissuasion. There were more obstacles in their way today. Despite what the media liked to mock and write, Minster Shacklebolt didn't have favorites. Harry was not yet in charge of the Auror office. Hermione was suspended for alleged corruption and she couldn't even see herself as Deputy Head of her own department in the future, even her chances for minister were likely trashed. Ron was just promoted to lead security for local quidditch matches. The case of distribution and manufacturing of fake badges was not Ron or Hermione's jurisdiction to handle at all. They shouldn't even know about the tug-o-war on this matter between Unspeakables and Aurors. 

Hermione tries to remain clear headed and break the silence, "Good thing it's publicly known I'm suspended…someone showing off my badge will only raise suspicion and Padma arresting them on the spot."

Pansy felt bored that Hermione was keeping her out of the 'fun' discussion the trio were having. She grabs her wife's attention and hopefully pulls her out of the charm that had been cast among the three, "'Mione, I'm going to go check my make-up." She is already starting to stand up awkwardly from the bench. 

The bright witch breaks away from her hushed conversation with friends to stare up at the pretty witch; the candle lights above highlight the glitter on Pansy's cheekbones, "Oh, do you…do you need me to go with you?"

Pansy kisses Hermione's cheek. "No, I'm good."

Hermione continues her little play how much she pampers and cares for her beautiful wife in front of others, "Come back soon. You haven't eaten much these past two days…" She then points to a random dish in front of them that other people had already taken from, "Isn't this your favorite? Do you want me to go find a plate while you're gone?"

"..." It was a kitchen dish of black pudding hash and fried mushrooms. No, Hermione, I hate blood sausages...who even eats a whole plate of that?!

When Pansy smiles back at Hermione, it doesn't reach her starry green eyes, "Yeah, how about you go ask Draco for a plate?"

It was perfect timing for Pansy and Hermione to hear a loud commotion of a flustered Blaise Zabini ducking from a flying gold plate that was aimed at his handsome face, "Who-Who threw that?!"

Pansy hurriedly leaves the Great Hall before the bright witch figured out what that line actually meant for herself. She passes the empty glass vials that usually held the points for the four Hogwart's Houses during the school year and a few large portraits that were eager to catch up with several alumni that had long graduated from Hogwarts. When Pansy thought she could feel relief after escaping the Great Hall that cold block of black marble appeared in front of her eyes.

It was a memorial that honored those that died during the Battle of Hogwarts, but it only made Pansy upset whenever she saw it. She sucked in air, and a coldness seeped through the gaps of her teeth at the sight of the thing. The coldness felt like it was trickling through her veins and down her back and Pansy started to shiver and her hands trembled. She regretted not having brought a shawl with her this time to cover her shoulders and wrap herself up tightly like a homemade hug. The fallen names in white and gold scrolled across the black marble alphabetically, but green eyes were forced to blink away before a familiar name appeared on the list. Pansy stared straight ahead toward the girl's lavatory not daring to look back at Millicent's name that was stenciled in gold. She just couldn't do that to herself. Not today. Not this time. 

Hogwarts unfortunately really knew how to make restrooms feel a thousand feet away and the marble plaque just one little look back, but she never got a chance to struggle with that choice. Someone's sharp shoulder slams into her. Afraid of losing her own balance, Pansy tried to steady herself to the nearest pillar and hissed in pain when the rough and new stone work scraped the inside of her palm. There was a tapestry from behind her that barely cushioned her, it only slapped back into the stone wall from the draft that she carried with her from the impact. 

The witch had carried a high pitched laugh in her words when she spoke to Pansy, "Oh, Mudlicker, I didn't see you!"

The woman damn well did see Pansy! It wasn't like the corridor was narrow! Five people could evenly walk together shoulder to shoulder! Rubeus Hagrid had no trouble walking through here! If the rude shoulder didn't give it away that she was being targeted on purpose, calling her a derogatory term really told Pansy that this woman had it out for her! A blood supremacist who didn't like that she had married a muggleborn witch!

Pansy's eyes focused away from the whiplash of being pushed back and took in the witch in front of her. Her breath hitched when she identified her attacker and a slight sense of panic rose from inside her heart.

Oh, Morgana, please save me! No wonder this bitch specifically has it out for me!

Morag Flint. Pansy went straight for her wand that had been hidden inside her own dress, but her hasty reaction only looked comical to the other woman. The woman laughed at the sight of Pansy being afraid of her. With Millicent gone, Pansy was far weaker and Morag had become far more bold. It wasn't a good thing to show Morag that she was frightened by her presence!

The first time Pansy met Morag, the eleven year old witch viciously told everyone at the table that Pansy should eat on the floor, sleep outside the dorms, and be friendless all because her grandfather used to work with muggles. That's it. It wasn't because Pansy was ugly or that she stinks. Morag is a purist weirdo like the rest of her family! It didn't help that there were even a few other blood supremacists in Slytherin that kind of liked that idea! Thankfully, Morag didn't have the charisma to actually take control of the house and teary-eyed Pansy reversed the situation in the only way she knew how. 

Eleven year old Pansy had pretended to flinch and even shrieked at the sight of the other first year that appeared out of nowhere, "You're absolutely hideous! Don't come near me!" Making Morag look like the contagious one instead and had hid behind the pretty fifth year prefect, Gemma Farley, to 'protect' her from possibly getting decked in the face for that 'honesty'. Being mean and poking at someone's insecurities was easy as long as you don't think about how the other person feels afterward, and Pansy believed it was a great distraction to her own family name. While Gemma had hugged and reassured Pansy with a big sister-like tone that no one was going to be thrown outside on her watch, everyone else joined in with Pansy and laughed at the eleven year old Morag Flint who did in fact...take after her brother Marcus Flint. 

Pansy remembers how the girl had been an ugly little gremlin with nasty and gnarly teeth growing in very odd directions much like her brother and giving the poor girl an asymmetrical jaw structure. Puberty had made things worse for poor Morag back in school with flaky and sensitive skin and oily hair. The only stunning rarity about Morag was her heterochromia though. She had one warm brown eye while her other was a vibrant blue. Surprisingly, looking at the witch now, Morag didn't do too badly for herself as an adult.  Potions and glamour charms hiding the stress though rather than turning from a born grindy into a siren, as Pansy was aware of what happened to Morag during and after the war. Only Morag's eyes didn't need any charms.

To think there is someone more horrid than me behind such pretty eyes…

The two hadn't seen each other since both their trials were held the same day, all in one sitting, one right after the other and where Morag Flint had tried to frame Pansy Parkinson for the four out of the twelve inhumane charges that had been made against Morag. That really wasn't even counting all the false charges already placed against Pansy by the public, but the crazy bitch like the rest of society seemed to really want to throw a spell in to see if she could get a hit in one last time. 

Several attempts in the past of trying to attack and hex Pansy with Millicent's back turn should be enough reason alone not to be shocked by Morag's thinking. Pansy used to tell Daphne that if she ever ended up murdered, one of the top witches on her list that needed to be questioned had to be Morag Flint, the one time Daphne didn't agree with her was when she wasn't too thrilled with Pansy: "You're going to add me to that list if you don't get your drunk arse out of this booth. Hello—Who are you? No, this is Pansy's only sober brain cell speaking, and she isn't into you. Turn around. Walk the other way. Never speak to her again—"

Pansy fortunately had been found not guilty for all charges and attempts, while Morag had been found guilty to all twelve of her own charges, but due to her age and the court's bullshit reasoning of 'not knowing better ' because of her upbringing and mental instability, Morag ended up only being sentenced to Azkaban for three years and put on rehabilitation for another two years. That was less than what they were talking about giving Pansy! What made it so much more terrifying for Pansy to see was how they were actually letting this witch out back into society! Morag had apparently gouged out some poor student's eye at the Carrows' instructions and… ate it.

At the time Pansy had no idea that a student had suffered from Morag and the Carrows like that. She had tried her best to help keep the first and second years safe from the Carrows at Hogwarts by using her prefect duties as a cover, but the detentions that had the older students had been much harder to keep track of and out of trouble so Pansy mostly left those students for Ernie who had been a DA prefect, along with Luna, Ginny and Neville to take care of as those guys certainly would have only seen her as an enemy anyways. Only Luna ever seemed to know otherwise.

And while Pansy did think Morag was capable of a lot of things back when they were kids, she never thought her old housemate was that fucked up. Not even Boyan was the kind of psychopath to pluck out and eat eyeballs! So, Pansy really could not fathom or put a measure on Morag's derangement. Morag might be up there with Bellatrix Le'Strange, but Pansy had a feeling that Draco's crazy dead aunt would be offended at the audacity of someone grouping an ugly gremlin with zero brains and talent in the same level of mental capacity as her. 

Pansy gritted her teeth with disgust at what she knew, "Since when did they let someone as sick as you in?" 

She ate some kid's eyeball for fucks sake! Morag shouldn't be here where she tortured a student! Pansy wanted to vomit at the thought of just that alone. 

Morag wore a smug grin after being able to corner Pansy with nobody else around, "Since I donated money. Isn't that old news now, Mudlicker, for you and for me? Everyone forgave you for offering up Potter. Most people did anyway. Even his mudblood did. So, shouldn't I receive that same treatment?" 

Pansy felt like vomiting. Morag's personality, even with two years of rehabilitation, didn't change much at all!

No, what you did was beyond saving and forgiving. I never hurt those kids. I may be a massive cunt. I may have given up my morals to the house of Slytherin in order to survive, but I've never dared to do the unthinkable. Even if everyone else only remembers me as the mean girl who wanted to offer Harry Potter to the Dark Lord I didn't do what you did! I know right from wrong. I didn't give in to the Carrows like you did. To cross that threshold. To become that kind of person. To cast such dark magic and commit such a vile sin as hurting a child. I may have a lot of guilt for what I said, didn't do, and for the things I didn't stop back then, but I didn't become you. I didn't become Draco. I didn't become Vincent. I didn't become Harry. I didn't become Boyan. In the face of it all, I never cast dark magic. I don't have to live with that guilt at least. And...I know I had that privilege because Millie gave that to me. 

Knowing what the other witch was capable of Pansy felt that she should get away from Morag as quickly as possible, she tried to move around her, but Morag only stepped into view again with that ugly smile filled with magically even and bright pearly teeth. 

In order to not show any fear, Pansy chose to revert back to her old facade when facing Morag in the past and hide the trembling in her voice, "Whatever, I don't have time to chat with an ugly loser like you." Especially when you're calling me a mudlicker and my wife a mudblood! Who wants to have a conversation with your uncivilized ass?

Much like how Morag now refused to call Pansy by her name when in the past it had always been 'Parkinson', Morag never called muggleborns by their name either. Morag was just that much of a purist nut job to where she didn't acknowledge those she felt were inferior to her. Morag was at least cowardly enough to not outright say it in front of any authority that didn't share her views as she was still a Slytherin who knew how to hide her scales and adapt to a new world order like all the pureblood purists, but Morag has been known to say such revolting things in a casual manner among her own peers or the every-day wizard; always muttering into her best friend Ashley Runcorn's ear and calling them all 'mudblood' and 'mud' adjacent. 

Morag furrows her perfectly trimmed eyebrows at being called an 'ugly loser' by Pansy. It was two words that stung in a place that would never disappear or heal no matter the amount of magic and make-up it covered up. Morag hated having to apply all the charms in the mirror every morning to hide her true self while being forced to see Pretty Pansy Parkinson in every magazine that she loved and on every advertisement of the things she bought. Just seeing Pansy's attitude pissed her off.

She raises her hand— it almost seemed as if she was going to slap Pansy, but she stops that impulsive thought from doing so, changed her actions to turning a ring on her finger instead to grab Pansy's attention to it. Morag's smile tries to remain stable as she said her next words. "Shame. Aren't you family with this loser?" Morag didn't want to add the 'ugly' adjective. 

Pansy saw the sparkle out of the corner of her eye and she paused. Family? What does that ring have to do with family? Pansy was quick to answer own thought of what Morag was trying to say. 

"Excuse me?!" Absolutely not! No one in the Parkinson family would fancy the likes of this crazy bitch! Impossible! Does Pansy have to go and tear someone's face off the family tree? Because, she'll do it! But, Pansy starts to relax her tense muscles and shoulders. No, Nutjob-Purist-Morag would not 'lower' herself to a muggle loving family and certainly not Pansy's family. For seven years Morag talked trash about the Parkinson kitchenware and crockery company whenever she got the chance and the Flints likely used some inferior dishware in their home that Pansy had never heard of.

There was just no way Morag Flint would want to marry if Hermione Granger and the Crockett Family were in-laws! The Flint Family would torch Morag off the family tapestry themselves!

This time, Morag was pleased at the sight of Pansy's pale reaction. She had an upturned smile while still turning her ring side to side, "Oh, I guess not the best time to announce such happy news, given how your grandfather is currently in St. Mungo's."

Pansy frowns at Morag mentioning her grandfather. She wouldn't marry into the family, right? She's just trying to mess with me, right? Pansy started to second guess herself. She squints at the diamond engagement ring that was right in her face. It wasn't as luxurious as her own wedding ring, but Pansy can easily sense that it had all the enchantments needed which meant Morag's engagement ring wasn't some cheap prop. Someone in my family really proposed to Morag Flint?!

It took everything in the twenty-seven year old Pansy to not throw a tantrum in front of Morag before actually finding out if she was joking or not, "What…happy…news are you talking about?"  Surely she couldn't keep up such a lie that she was going to be in-laws with a 'muggle-loving' family. Morag would have probably keeled over already if she was talking to a Weasley. 

Then, the tense air in the corridor seems to finally deflate as Morag really couldn't keep up her own charades, "Oh, that was too good!" She bursts out with that high-pitched laughter. Leaned over slightly and even revealed her cleavage from the low hanging dress she wore. Even with the tears forming in her eyes from laughing, Morag still noticed the bad color changes of Pansy's face. As she went from laughing to talking again with glee, Morag started to choke and cough as a result, "Your face changed to so many colors—green, white, purple, red…such..." She catches her breath. "...ugly colors!"

"..." Are you done?

Morag eventually got herself together and stood up straighter, there was now disgust in her eyes with only a trace of amusement left, "No, I'd never marry into a tainted household. More and more families year after year have become a disgrace to the sacred 28…"

Pansy swallowed back her sudden relief, she was still put-off by having been strung along by Morag as some joke, "Who the hell would marry you anyway?" 

"Gregory." Morag was kind to answer. There was no need for a surname even for such a common name. 

Pansy had to stop herself from dry heaving, "He's like your cousin!" Her voice was shrill enough that she had exposed Morag to all the portraits!

"My removed cousin, actually." Morag corrected, but there was a bit of hesitation afterwards from herself, "...I think." That didn't help Pansy feel any more confident about the marriage. "Anyways," Morag starts up again and clearing her throat the way Narcissa does when she has something groundbreaking to say, "My family agrees to it, but you're certainly not invited to the wedding. The rest of our housemates will be, but not you." Nobody is going to your wedding. Not even Draco. "It's going to be grand, unlike whatever muggle circus you had with that mudblood." Morag brags even further, "And, his grandfather is paying for it!"

For what Pansy knew about the Goyles, that wasn't much of a brag, because it didn't sound true. The only reason the Goyle family still had enough money after the war to pay for a grand wedding (Morag's opinion of what a grand wedding is) was because the money had to be coming out of Gregory's start-up distilling business and not from any Goyle elders vault like Morag was saying to Pansy. Goyles have only ever been a low paid Malfoy lackey.

And, by saying the family 'agreed' to it must have meant that Morag and Gregory's marriage had been arranged by the Flint and Goyle families. Pansy had always doubted Gregory Goyle ever being able to find himself a witch on his own with that halitosis of his. Now, Pansy isn't sure if this arrangement was recent as being made from Azkaban or if the Goyle Family had made earlier arrangements like when Gregory and Morag were kids. She never heard of Gregory having a childhood engagement to Morag though. She'd have heard of it through the grapevine at Hogwarts. 

However, it was still disgusting that Morag was trying to play off that her future 'husband' was not related to her. It only made that family tree really tangled and problematic once more!

Pansy seems to forget that there is no one to hide behind once she spills the words she is about to say next in breaking that down for Morag, "Once removed. He is the son of your cousin who is rotting in Azkaban. Goyle's grandfather is your dustbin of an uncle who has two feet in the grave just waiting to lie down at this point…your mum's brother! Why am I having to break this down for you? Do you not hear yourself and feel disgusted by the men in your family? Who can even stomach an invitation to your family reunion? Have you ever wondered what is wrong with you, Morag?" But, since there were so many things wrong with Morag Flint there were a multitude of answers to that. But, she had a start: "It's cause your family has tangled branches!"

Morag no longer found Pansy's reactions comical. Her smile drooped and she lowered her engagement ring. Pansy's words had seem to cause Morag's face to distort to several different expressions and the glamor charm the witch had on looked like it was about to collapse and reveal the truth of how much three years of Azkaban had severely aged her. 

Morag couldn't stand how Pansy Parkinson was once again pretending that she was better than her! Who was inferior? Who was superior here? The kitchenware heiress was barking above her own weight class again! No one was here to bail her mouth out anymore! Where was Millicent now!? DEAD! She snatched at the folds of the periwinkle dress to drag Pansy closer to her, but Pansy pried at the hands and wanted to shove the other witch away before Morag could think of a way to kill her… or gouge an eye out. 

"Let go of me!" Maybe Daphne was right, I've lost brain cells! Why did I say that?!

"What is wrong with me?" Morag seethed and the corner of her eyes turned bloodshot red, "I'm not the one who is a witch loving slag who licks mud!" No matter how much Pansy told Morag to let her go the witch persisted in holding Pansy down. She didn't plan to let Pansy leave. "The whole time it was you who was the disgusting one! Not me! Not 'Dirty Rag'!" 

Pansy hadn't heard that stupid nickname in years! I was twelve when I called her that. One time. Twice. Maybe five times at most I called her that. It never even really caught on! She is really holding on to that of all things? Pansy continued to struggle under Morag's rage. The memories piled up one after another of all the things Pansy said and did— of what Millicent Bulstrode did in the name of Pansy Parkinson between the two. The Morag that used to have bad skin looks far more ferocious now than when they were kids. Like most from their days of Hogwarts, Morag hadn't been afraid of the mean girl in a very, very long time. There were far more terrifying things in the world than a mean little Slytherin heiress and a dead woman that can't come back from the grave to kick her ass!

There was no fear in Morag's intense blue and brown eyes; only hatred and envy with bloodshot eyes stares down on Pansy, but then a spark of contempt appeared in them as Morag thought of something amusing, and she added, "Not to mention, half the country thinks your muggle marriage is fraud, so don't come for my own! Who is the loser, Parkinson?" She was angry enough to spit Pansy's maiden name back at her this time. "Who is going to be shipped off to Azkaban now?"

She definitely provoked Morag there, but Pansy has learned her lesson of not opening mouth (at least in this moment), and desperately pushed the other witch off of her. With no one around to break up this struggling fight between the two Pansy was at a disadvantage. In such times, Morag would have been snatched by the scruff of the neck and tossed away, but there was no broad shouldered Slytherin girl to save Pansy from the tugging and tearing of their dresses. 

There was the sound of fabric ripping, but the witches didn't know who had the torn dress. To claim an advantage, Pansy managed to block Morag from being able to cast any spells by quickly knocking the wand out of Morag's hand and into the floor, but that still meant she had to be careful of Morag trying to steal her own wand. Pansy wasn't skilled like Hermione in wandless magic; she actually needed her wand, but it was hard to cast a spell properly in the tussle. She couldn't find the right angle to throw Morag back from her. Instead, the force of magic she cast hit the castle portraits on the other side of the corridor and caused the acrylic people to wobble and panic. 

A hand tried to grapple for her throat—Pansy could only scratch back and dig her own nails in and drag them across a cheek while leaning her neck away from Morag's nails that just barely scraped over her own throat. The two were similar in strength when it came to muscle and magic, but once Pansy's nails made contact with skin, Morag had to feel the stinging pain of Pansy's claws breaking the surface of skin. 

Lines of redness appeared where the glamor charm flickered one last time before completely collapsing and revealing a witch that had been haggard by time and prison. It was the skin of a woman that shouldn't be twenty-seven! Morag looked twenty years older, the wrinkles and dark circles were unable to be hidden from Pansy. Realizing she had been exposed, Morag gasps in shock and finally removes her hands from Pansy to hide her face. 

"Cunt!" Morag's frustrated scream was muffled through her hands. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Pansy used enough of her own muscle then to slam Morag back and straight into another pillar opposite them. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and felt the buzzing of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her body finally kicked in the flight response once the other witch was shoved back, Pansy slipped out of Morag's possible reach and made several steps back with her wand raised cautiously at the hunched over woman and gave her threatening glare back. 

"I'll report you for assault if you don't back the bloody fuck off me!" Then Pansy turned tail like the coward she has always been when confronted by conflict that was not in her favor. Pansy knew her own strengths and weaknesses, and it was much better to retreat! The only pride Pansy really had when running away from Morag was that she didn't say, 'My wife will hear about this!' But, catching her breath Pansy still couldn't help resist putting up a tougher front while she fled by yelling her last remark to Morag Flint, "You crazy bint!" 

Morag glares over one hand that was still blocking her face. Her strained eyes hurt, but she didn't look away from Pansy's straightened back and puffed-out chest that walked away from her. Her deep seated hatred that she had kept in her heart all these years for Pansy Parkinson no longer had anywhere to vent, but Morag reminded herself then that Pansy would eventually suffer a blow to that pride of hers!

Pansy left Morag far behind. She swung open the girl's lavatory, past the octagonal sinks, and stumbled into a stall. She collapses onto her knees and retches into the porcelain bowl in front of her without any qualms to her own image. It's only spit that comes up though. Pansy frowns down at the toilet and eventually wipes her mouth with the back of her hand with her own disgust. She is still shaky from Morag. Pansy pulls back from the toilet and tries to calm herself down.

Her glamor charms hold up with her make-up, but her hair had come loose from the pins and hair decorations. Her dress is slightly torn. The corners of her eyes are bloodshot and with tears. Her body trembles from a cold breeze, but her hands and feet feel clammy. Being confronted by Morag, there had been a pressure in her chest and temple that she couldn't get rid of, but now felt that by having thrown up she had released whatever emotion had been making her feel sick. 

Only her heavy breathing can still be heard in the quiet lavatory. Her pink tinged eyes glance over the bathroom stall while trying to calm her heart and flight response. She finds herself admiring the juvenile graffiti carved on the dark green wall. Pansy doesn't recognize any of the names and carvings so it must be a new generation of students. There was a cross mark over the name Keihler Green—he was probably a prick, Pansy thought in a daze. There was praise for a guy named Jack Edwards and Pansy could only guess he wasn't just a heartthrob, but a heartbreaker too with a name like that. Besides just those two, there were other names with several symbols and hearts, from a 'Go Gryffindor!' crossed out with 'Go Ravenclaw!'. A few curse words here and there of an edgy and pent-up adolescence and in one corner someone wrote that some girl named Jasmine Heath was a cunt. Pansy let out a shaky laugh from reading it, and was reminded that somewhere on the third floor girl's lavatory, if it wasn't already removed by now or damaged, there was a similar carving with Pansy's own name, except the person's carving skills from then were terrible and aggressive. 

On those walls, Pansy had been called a 'dumb cunt', but all the 'a's and 'u's had become really ugly 'o's or squares even depending on if you looked at the words with an artistic approach. Pansy to this day still had no clue who carved it, but there were so many possible girls it could have been. It could have even been one of the girls that hadn't been known for vandalism. Hermione could have done it for all she knew!

Pansy had only seen the message because Tracey had been the one that brought her into the stall to point it out; wishing to see the popular Slytherin girl's reaction, but instead of getting upset, all fourteen year old Pansy did was laugh at how ugly and jagged it looked. Pansy was desensitized with being called a cunt by her own friends that she didn't actually feel all that insulted, and reading 'Ponsy Porkinson is O Domb Cont' was just too funny for her not to laugh at! Pansy thought that if you're going to carve and vandalize someone's name into a wooden wall at least be good at it so others can actually read your message! Use all sharp capital letters if the lowercase is too hard! She hadn't cared at all about the witch who hid in the stall or thought at all about what she had personally done to have caused that kind of frustration in the first place. There were so many things Pansy had said and so many witches she had pissed off.

She never did see the dark glint in Tracey's eyes back then though or how the girl's shoulders were pushed forward with clenched fists at her sides while having to listen to Pansy find the whole thing humorous instead of insulting. Pansy had even dragged Millicent into the already crowded stall to have a good laugh with her. Millicent never did laugh instead she gave Tracey's back that had suddenly been drenched in cold sweat menacing glare, as if the broad-shoulder witch knew exactly who the culprit was that carved that message. 

That memory soon faded and what Morag had said came back to mind instead. "The whole time it was you who was the disgusting one! Not me! Not 'Dirty Rag'! " Don't get Pansy wrong. She wasn't proud of the things she did back then to get that title of being a massive dumb cunt. Much like for most witches at a certain age, and for Pansy now, it could be hard to look in the mirror some mornings and like her personality and looks. Sometimes it's hard for Pansy to sleep at night when her mind runs wild and remembers all the horrible teasing and bullying she did to others. The names she called them. The tricks she played. The rumors she spread. Because she was jealous. Because she was angry. Because she wanted the attention. Because she wanted to survive. Because she was just a 'dumb cunt'. 

She'll lie in bed and her brain will ask, 'Remember when you pointed out Hannah Abbott's split ends in front of her older crush in the Great Hall? The girl was so embarrassed she didn't show back up until Charms class with hair that had been unevenly trimmed. Weren't you just jealous of her pretty blonde hair? Wasn't it just that you read some stupid article in a magazine that wizards preferred blondes over dark hair and you thought that was unfair? ' or 'Remember that time you 'encouraged' Wayne Hopkins to ask out Daphne knowing she would embarrass him so badly in front of the entire school and that after it happened even Ronald Weasley felt better about being rejected by Fleur Delacour? Wonder what happened to that Hufflepuff? How is life treating Wayne now?' Well, Pansy knows that Wayne was one of the ones sticking his tongue down Eloise's mouth almost nine years later in a flat that she paid. Even the limited edition 'Cherry Pick Me' lipstick that Eloise stole from her that she had 'borrowed' from Daphne had been all over Wayne's neck and chin when he left! The irony of it. 

She was a real cunt for that one—Eloise, not herself. 

Pansy leaned her head against the wall of the stall with an exhausted sigh and calmed her own emotions to further admiring the adolescent carving skills. Way better than the 'Ponsy Porkinson' one. As immature as the mean and wishful thinking on the walls were, it was still nice to see that kids were still...kids. That they lived in their own little worlds safely behind castle walls, their enemies only a fellow school girl, their boyfriends just a prick, an ex-girlfriend who stole their lip gloss and never gave back, professors that were still stern with a broom up of their ass, having their very own Cedric Diggory or Cho Chang to fantasize about while getting through Professor Binns' class and the best thing of all for this generation of students...having best friends they never have to bury…a war they didn't have to grow up in. 

Hinges on a door squeak open. Someone had either entered the lavatory or was here all along. The noise was enough to startle Pansy and remind her where she actually was: On the floor of a bathroom. Her eyelashes were wet from tears, so Pansy bats them away while delicately touching up the corner of her eyes. She didn't have to worry about running mascara, but it was still good to check that her glamor charms were still in place. Pansy stands up and casts non-verbal spells on herself to freshen up and then before exiting the stall she peers around for the other witch that should have walked in, but seeing nobody she hurries over to the mirror and sink to wash her hands.

Turning on the faucet and running her hands with soap and water, she eventually hears a door creak open again. Pansy lifts her head up from the sink—

No, again. Nobody.

She turns off the water and uses a dry spell on her hands. This time she peeks over her shoulder and hesitantly calls down the aisle of dark green bathroom stalls, "M-Myrtle?"

Moaning Myrtle was the only nosy option if not an actual person. The amount of times Myrtle tried to listen in on her gossip couldn't be counted on one hand and Pansy believed the other well known ghost, The Grey Lady, that sometimes cries in the bathroom wasn't lowbrow to haunt or stalk students. But looking back behind her, there was no whiny fifth year ghost floating through the walls. With someone else being in the bathrooms and not revealing themselves, it caused a trail of goosebumps up her arms and bare back. Feeling uneasy, Pansy cautiously turns back to the mirrors to check her hair decorations, but keeps her eyes fixated on any sinister movement through the mirror that might come up behind her. 

A door swings open again, but this time it was just the entrance and a familiar periwinkle dress appears within sight. Hermione spots Pansy's startled look at the sinks and heads over.  

With the bright witch present now Pansy felt more at ease and asks, "What are you doing here—"

But, Hermione interrupts Pansy with a soft gasp when her brown eyes fall onto Pansy's torn dress. "What happened to your dress?!" She reaches out to inspect the torn fabric that exposed the top of Pansy's charmed pastie that covered her nip.

Pansy follows Hermione's line of sight down and grimaces at the reminder. It really was not hard to see the damage that Morag had done because the blue daisy that covered Pansy's nipple was extremely noticeable against the white skin. "That would be Morag, the ugly bint…"

"Flint?" Hermione questions as if she hadn't heard properly. Pansy doesn't use 'bint' often enough in her vocabulary.

She raised the corner of her mouth at Hermione's confused response, "Yeah. Flint. Bint. How many Morags do you know?" She didn't want to get into Morag being  a 'Goyle' soon, because explaining the Goyle/Flint family tree to Hermione would take her all night honestly so she summarized everything that happened. "She rudely bumped into me, was envious that I looked ten times hotter than her and we got into a bit of a tussle over it." Pansy hoped that Hermione wouldn't ask for details about who won the fight, because she didn't want to admit that she ran off like a coward to the Gryffindor woman. 

Hermione mutters low, "I didn't expect Professor McGonagall to invite such a person…" Did she also hear about Morag Flint eating someone's eyeball during the war? Morag shouldn't be back in society at all!

"Just as surprised as you are that just about anybody… even if they're deranged… can show up to gnaw on a roasted turkey leg if they donate a few galleons to the school." Pansy purposefully made it sound like she was calling Morag a mutt for a meal. 

She wished Hermione would laugh to change the subject, but her wife doesn't even lift her eyes from the evening dress that had been destroyed by Morag Flint. Hermione is far too focused on the damage that had been done; examining the large tear with her hands while muttering to herself.  "Can this be mended with my magic?" Her knuckles accidentally rub against the top of Pansy's breasts and Hermione's hand freezes. "Er, sorry—" She awkwardly curls her fingers and pulls her hand away. 

Pansy doesn't let Hermione go. She grabs for the hand that was about to pull back and holds it firmly over her breasts again. Hermione's palm was placed flat, but the tips of her fingers that dip into the softness twitch as if she was fighting back an intrusive thought. Pansy hardly noticed Hermione's internal struggle, she raised a finger to her lips to make a quiet gesture, before using it to point in the direction of the stalls where she had heard a noise earlier. Pansy hadn't seen anyone yet besides the noise, but someone might actually be hiding and listening in on the fraudulent couple. 

Hermione is smart to take the hint and she changes her choice of words to a more appropriate response when speaking to her own wife. "I should have gone with you, then you wouldn't have had to deal with Morag on your own…Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No, I'm fine, but," Pansy bravely holds Hermione's hand hostage and hopes to test her luck further, "I think you owe an apology for ignoring your beautiful and sweet wife over Harry and Weasley— of all people —and then trying to get me to eat blood sausages for dinner, because then maybe I wouldn't have left your side. You should make it up to me with a kiss, right?"

Hermione has practiced kissing with Pansy enough times this week that she isn't as surprised or shy by the request. The couple didn't go as far as making out like they had Monday, but kissing was now considered a 'normal thing' between them. Pansy had already given her 'good morning' nuzzles that had a bit of cinnamon and mint, Pansy has leaned over and made Hermione pay a daily rent in 'good afternoon' kisses when Hermione read in that ugly yellow chair, shared a few lingering back and forth  'good night' kisses in bed that the two wrote off together as tired responses, or even a simple 'just because ' kiss that Pansy would give to encourage Hermione to kiss her more. Hermione, as a good student, followed up with similar excuses to pay Pansy back. 

But, Hermione still couldn't help comment on Pansy's adjectives before doing so. "Let's be honest, 'sweet' is stretching the truth a little bit there, don't you think? You greeted Ron with your middle finger…"

"First off, I was being annoying on purpose. I was showing off my ring to everyone." Pansy gave Hermione a bold-faced lie, and then raised her chin rather proudly to add, "And, second, once you kiss me, you'll find that I'm not lying about being sweet."

Hermione hums with a tone of not buying what Pansy said, but still nods along. 

While talking the two still exchanged glances with the quiet stall doors in order to see if anyone would peek out from behind one with any curiosity. Both finally noticed between the sliver of the stall door and stone floor there was a shadow that had blocked the light from inside. To Pansy's knowledge ghosts don't cast shadows so it could only be a solid figure hiding. Well, let her watch then! Pansy encourages Hermione to kiss her now with a tug from their attached hands.

Calmly moving toward Pansy's lips Hermione leaves a light peck that has the lingering taste of honey from tonight's mead. Pansy felt that there might actually be magic in that simple sweetness and how it allowed for her to easily forgive the bright witch for ignoring her earlier and trying to feed her black pudding. Of course, it wasn't really the honey that made things better. It was the warmth that Hermione was willing to give to the likes of her. 

"See?" Released from the kiss Pansy questioned to see if her wife had noticed that shared sweetness between them. 

"I see." Hermione's lashes lowered to hide the color change of her irises under the lavatory lighting and to Pansy it seemed like the witch was shy when answering. 

Pansy secretly liked that feeling of turning the brave and stubborn Gryffindor into a stuttering and sunburnt mess. But, that 'I see ' from Hermione starts a different kind of reaction in Pansy's heart; the beat pounds sporadically into the warm palm of Hermione's that still rests on her body. If that heartbeat gave away anything about Pansy's wishful pining, Hermione didn't seem able to translate it nor did she jerk away from Pansy's chest either.

With the way Hermione glanced over her with those warm brown eyes hidden in eyelashes and the weight of her hand on Pansy's breasts, Pansy at that moment didn't care if this was only a show in front of the nosy witch. She suddenly wanted to wrap her arms tightly around Hermione and beg desperately to be kissed over and over again, be roughly pressed back against the sinks of the lavatory and be— Stop being thirsty, you dumb cunt! Especially not here on the lavvy! Pansy wanted to internally scream at herself for her horny thoughts wandering again. 

Hermione mends the dress back together with a soft 'repairo ' leaving her lips, and uncurled finger from the hand Pansy held firmly to herself had created a tickling sensation as it slowly traced the spell's movements into the woven thread and fabric. After inspecting her own repair work, Hermione tilts her head to get a better angle at the stall door that creaks. The stranger must really think they're good at hiding. Hermione's signature stern expression returned, but her free hand is still gentle as it tucks back a wisp of dark loose hair behind Pansy's ear and she asks her pretty wife, "Do you forgive me now? Let's go back together?"

Pansy confirms the forgiveness with a soft smile, "Together.", and doesn't let Hermione's hand go, forcing the couple to have to leave hand in hand. She likes to use that word lately, 'Together', when it involves just the two of them. "Or, maybe," Her voice is already carrying that teasing tone of hers when Hermione leads her out of the bathroom, "We can go back home and you can try another way to get me to forgive you. What do you think, 'Mione?" Her thumb rubbed against Hermione's hand affectionately. 

"I think you're a vixen!" Hermione muttered with her face burning red. She regretted coming to check in on her 'dear' wife then, but hearing the bubbly cheerfulness that followed after her, Hermione couldn't regret it at all. She added after that with her own laugh, "You forgave me already, Pan, you can't take it back now."

Pan. That's the first time Hermione has shortened her name so casually. It wasn't creative. It wasn't anything different from her family who shortened Panteley, but, it was another taste of Hermione's honey. This time it carried warmth. A dash of doting. A drop of being attentive. It carried something with it that could be called 'love'. Pansy felt too good about it to think it was all a delusion. 

The lavatory door swings closed behind them and when the couple had long left back to the Great Hall, a stall door finally bangs wide open revealing a witch wearing a silver v-line dress. Her hand that had been holding a scratched up dragon scale clutch held the door at bay from swinging back into her face. 

The witch stomped out in her matching silver laced heels toward the mirror. "Ugh...seriously?!" Her nose that was always a little off-kilter since the age of fourteen was now more crooked when twisted with irritation. Even the pretty gem that decorated the side of her nostril had lost its luster under the bathroom's enchanted lights. 

The old MagiCortaire dragon clutch had a chain handle and the witch gripped it tightly around her hand then to swing the clutch purse aggressively down several times against the stone-work of the sink to take out her anger and jealousy.

"I can't stand it anymore…it's not fair!" The old charms on the clutch had been holding on for dear life all these years from the witch's abusive handling, but it still scratched and tore whenever it slammed down."It's not fair at all! How dare she—" The charms finally give in and the old chain snapped off the hook and the clutch slipped right into the brass basin making a sound that was like a last dying cough. 

"..." The witch blinks at the old chain still wrapped around her hand and then down at the tattered clutch in the sink. With some embarrassment, she awkwardly mutters down at it, "Damn. That was the last purse Parkinson bought me…"

The witch was none other than Eloise Midgen. Pansy Parkinson's cheating ex-girlfriend. 

Chapter Text

"How much coffee do you actually put in this?" 

Hermione checks the recipe that Pansy wrote out for her while she sips on the coffee that had been brewed earlier from the kettle. The coffee wasn't as strong as what Hermione usually liked, but that was because her wife planned to use the leftover coffee for their chocolate cake that they planned to bake together for Harry's dinner tonight.

Brown eyes follow Pansy from over the mug. The pretty witch came back in from feeding the carp and finished washing her hands at the sink.

When Pansy begins to summon bowls from the cupboard, she answers Hermione, "Jamie may want a slice, so we won't add a whole lot—less than what the recipe usually requires." Pansy then takes a second glance over her shoulder at Hermione with a thought to something else, "Should we use cherries or plums as the toppings? What do you think he'll prefer, 'Mione?" 

She seemed more concerned about a child's tastes than the other guests. 

Hermione sits her mug down onto the recipe like a paperweight, "Well, about that…Jamie only recently learned what a plum is...but Harry mentioned at the charity feast that he made Christmas pudding Tuesday night, but…" She trailed off quietly with the obvious answer. 

James absolutely hated it! 

To be fair, it was the only dried fruit recipe that Harry could find on hand from his overcrowded bookshelf. A bookshelf that had nothing on Hermione's collection that was starting to overrun her room and the lounge, but it had been filled with Magical Law books, his old school textbooks; including the old copy of his ' Quidditch Through The Ages ', to Hermione's published essays and books as a supported friend— though probably only flipped through , and some old recipes from some stranger's late nana that Harry had excitedly picked out from a bargain bin on a whim back when the trio would scope the muggle antique shops for furniture.

Pansy frowns, "Oh, so, Jamie didn't like it…" She never did have time to ask about how the Potters liked the plums, constantly busy with running errands and visiting her grandfather.

The pretty witch took a purple apron off the hook from the wall and slipped it over herself; the back left loose and untied. Pansy pulled her shiny black hair out from under the apron's neck loop then summoned a striking white ribbon to tie her hair high into a pony-tail. Hermione's eyes cast over the pretty witch with an attracted interest. 

The movements had revealed a slender neck and Hermione was dazzled by the beautiful image; even with a few strands of hair that partly hid Pansy's cute pierced ears, the tips were still visible when they peeked out. A light blushing pink from the pleasant day outside. 

"He did not." Hermione felt like her throat was going dry despite having just sipped coffee. 

Eyes lower down from the slender neck to watch the strings on the back of the apron hang loose. 

From watching those lifeless strings hanging from the witch's back, Hermione suddenly remembers that one time in study hall when she overheard Parvati read out a steamy passage from one of those cheap romance novels to Lavender, "His large and cold hands held tightly to the strings of my apron to tie a lopsided bow. He leaned over me then with his tall height of 1.89m," Lavender had a giggle at Parvati carrying a breathy, yet exaggerated tone, "and his icy breath sent a shiver down my spine causing my legs to go weak… I felt his lips peck my shoulder and then his hands moved down to the hem of my dress—"  

Well…unfortunately for Lavender and Parvati, the girls never got to finish reading the meaty bits in study hall since Professor Sprout confiscated the lengthy title 'My Proud Husband Comes Back From The Dead To Chase Me', and even scolded the red-faced girls—including Hermione, for reading such inappropriate drivel at their age…mind you, the same trashy romance novel that I caught Professor Sprout reading two hours later while the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fourth years pruned the venomous tentacula. 

Without needing to steal the novel back from their professor, like Parvati and Lavender did three days later , Hermione already had an idea of what happened next between husband and wife and it certainly was not baking a chocolate cake. 

Hermione was shocked at herself for remembering that romance novel when distracted by Pansy. She shook the nonsense out of her head. 

If any actual sludge fell out of her ears, it was very doubtful. She squeezed the bridge of her nose tightly in irritation at her weakness. Oh, it was just going to get worse, wasn't it? Being attracted to Pansy is becoming an alarming thing for me— Hermione knows why. There were a lot of walls being torn down for Pansy in a short amount of time. How effective had that talk with Harry really been?

I'm not like…in love. I'm just…Can I be just a little bit? No, this is just me—I'm woman enough to say I'm attracted to pretty Pansy Parkinson, okay? And that isn't a crime to like her—to like this, even if my marriage is…But, hey, if she likes me—No. Don't push the very little luck and confidence I've rubbed off of Harry!

Pansy is still talking, "Right, good thing I thought to buy those cherries while out shopping yesterday then…"

Hermione hummed in agreement, though she wasn't entirely listening to Pansy. Her eyes were still focused on the strings and wondered if she should take the initiative to tie it for Pansy. 

She made up her mind quickly and went behind Pansy, "Let me help." Took the strings and tied the bow while ignoring her prodding interests of wanting to kiss Pansy's slender neck and have a retelling of that trashy novel.

The knot wasn't lopsided like the dead husband's, but perfectly made. The perfectionist in Hermione smiles proudly at her work. Her hands nestled themselves on Pansy's hips with admiration, though truthfully maybe Hermione just liked the feel of being so close to Pansy. 

…

Realizing she was holding Pansy for far too long, Hermione awkwardly clears her throat then, "Um…" Her hands begrudgingly slipped away from Pansy's waist,"That reminds me. Harry wanted to know if you had any of your own plum recipes that he could try instead. All of Molly's baking recipes seem fond of apples and citrus." 

Hermione didn't see the blush creep up on Pansy's cheeks as her wife hurriedly snatched a matching apron off the wall instead. She takes it from Pansy and just slips it over without any fantasy about herself.

"Sure," Pansy agreed. "I can write a few recipes down for him that children should like." She silently gestured for Hermione to spin around for her so that she could tie a bow too. 

Pansy's hands were just as naughty as Hermione's own had been, but perhaps Pansy was surprisingly more handsy with an excuse. Pansy slid her hands to the front to ' smooth out any wrinkles ' of the apron and slid them back to test that the bow was 'tight and snug '. 

"..." If Hermione didn't know any better she would think Pansy had deliberately done that. 

It was just Pansy being a vixen.

Pansy then quickly moved away from Hermione in order to pull out a flat pan from a bottom cupboard, "Let's add thumbprint biscuits while we're at it. The Weasley Clan must have a lot of kids."

They do. From Bill's bunch, to Percy's two little girls Molly and Lucy, to George's twins Roxy and Freddie, and of course, Ginny's sons and godson, Teddy. That's ten total. Maybe eleven if my assumption is right about Ginny being pregnant. 

The only ones without kids were Ron and Charlie—if you didn't count Charlie calling his Romanian dragons his precious babies just to see his mum's sour reaction and her grumbling to his dad, "Why can't he just say he doesn't want kids? Who wants deadly fire breathing grandchildren!?"  With Arthur Weasley comforting his wife with, "Oh, you'll love 'em all the same."

Charlie and his dragons won't be there, but Hermione knows that Harry and Ginny's other friends have kids and might bring them along. She assumes there might even be people she doesn't know anything about as Ginny had told Hermione it wasn't going to be their typical Sunday dinner. It was going to be a huge event. 

"Good idea." Hermoine commented. 

"Yeah, and I'll finally be out of last year's plums!" Pansy happily perks up at her own words. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. So, it was to get rid of plums again?

For Pansy it was a little bit of both for the kids and emptying out the cellar actually. 

Hermione lightly laughed and shook her head. 

It was a late Sunday morning for the two. Outside the kitchen windows were a few lazy clouds occasionally floating by and blocking the sun from time to time. The lofty trees that surrounded the manor's colorful garden had new fledglings that were happily tweeting and leaving their parents' nests for the first time. Hermione would glance out to enjoy this view to cleanse her mind from fantasizing about the pretty witch in front of her, but it did little to actually help when watching those same young swallows start to flirt with one another. 

She moved away from the window with a complicated expression. Merlin, birds are too flashy with their mating rituals…show off a few grubs and sing a song…yeah, that'll get you a mate in the nest! What about me? Her brain had wanted to interject about how Hermione has a wife—but we're not actually together!

Pansy told Hermione to pay attention. They were going to start on the cake—first by adding the flour, along with grabbing the sugar and cocoa powder, to even adding a dash of salt and some baking powder to the large mixing bowl in front of them. Hermione peeked over Pansy's shoulders and found that her wife's measurements were easily done in a blink of an eye; each scoop and pour was so precise that she could only admire Pansy even if it really was only a habit of repetition. Her wife didn't even need to glance back at the recipe that was being held down by a coffee mug. 

Feeling a bit redundant and invisible, Hermione awkwardly raises her hand to poke her wife's shoulder in hopes that Pansy would remember that she was also standing right there. I'm a willing participant this time anyway. She might not be a professional in the kitchen, but she was good at following recipes and even memorised the recipe after reading it over once.

Of course, Pansy didn't actually forget her 'darling' wife at all, she had plans for her. After doing the measurements, Pansy twirls around into Hermione's arm that was raised and the fingers accidentally graze over Pansy's collarbone. Pansy's charming smile caused Hermione's heart to tumble and possibly win a gold medal in gymnastics for Great Britain.

"Eggs." Hermione replies dumbly when looking into those starry green eyes."Should I get those?" Nobody would know she was the brightest witch of her age at this moment. 

Pansy lightly pecked her on the lips, but when Hermione tried to kiss back, the pretty witch moved away and only hands over the whisk. "Don't worry, I'll get those out while you're being put to work now," 

She told Hermione to mix it all together while she prepared the eggs and wet ingredients. In a daze Hermione did as asked. She put the whisk to bowl. Unlike with potions there were no weird directions in the recipe that called for one hundred and twenty-three clockwise turns or side-to-side shuffles in a cauldron, it was all more like: From counterwise to clockwise, even if your arm hurts, keep whisking until it's all mixed well together and doesn't clump!

Eggs hovered over the bowl and Pansy's magic seamlessly cracked the shells open. Yoke fell into the mixture that was starting to become a chocolate blend from Hermione's stirring.

Pansy suddenly had an unmistakable Cheshire grin on her face while watching Hermione Granger being obedient. 

Hermione caught sight of it. This vixen! I've been seduced! She is definitely making me do all the labor! The whisk started to slow to a crawl by that sudden realization, but Pansy encouraged her to keep mixing and not stop.

Creamy sweet milk and the morning brewed coffee was then poured in by a measuring cup. Pansy leaned into her body to get a quick look inside the bowl to check the change in coloration. Doing such an action had caused Hermione to inhale Pansy's perfume. It had almost become like an aromatherapy contradiction to her own heart; tempting Hermione with fantasies, but also calming her.

Hermione's shoulders relaxed again despite feeling upset that she had just been seduced into doing the whisking. Vanilla extract suddenly appeared out of nowhere and was dropped into the mix—a few drops, not much, Pansy had muttered under her breath. Pansy finished. Her hand landed on Hermione's right shoulder and arm that had been in control of keeping the bowl steady and eyes the chocolate mix in the bowl with nodding approval. 

"Okay, now for those thumbprints." Pansy moves away to another mixing bowl and begins blending margarine and sugar together with a thick spoon. Her eyes glance over at Hermione's bowl every once in awhile "Once you're done, go ahead and pour the chocolate batter into the two separate cake pans...Then I'll leave you in charge of the things that are needed for the cake cream, while I prepare the biscuit dough, okay?"

Hermione nods. "Yeah." She remembers the instructions and even how the cake was to be built and decorated (with cherries).

After her own guesswork of when 'done' was supposed to be when it came to whisking, Hermione stopped and grabbed for the cake pans. The Parkinson pans had an unstick charm already applied so Hermione didn't have to add anything else to them besides the batter. She guided the chocolate liquid into the metal pan and smoothed out the top without any dribble or mess on the counter and sides of the pan. 

Pansy praised Hermione from afar, "Not so bad in the kitchen after all…much better than Daphne—you can't let her near a stove." Her wife then muttered sorely in memory to something. "I swear to Morgana, I would much rather keel over and die of dragon pox from the 1800's than let that bitch back into my kitchen…" 

"Dare I ask, what was she doing in the kitchen to start with?" Hermione might have been wrong about the Parkinson heiress's culinary skills, but her assumption about the blonde with a similar background at least turned out to be true. Daphne Greengrass was a disaster to kitchens everywhere… Duly noted.

"Oh, you must hear this one, one time for St. Valentine's Day, Daphne wanted to bake biscuits for her boyfriend—this was when she would date men on the daily just to make Blaise jealous. It didn't work—" Pansy cut herself off about her best friend's past love troubles, "anyways, her choco-chips ended up being coal, and my entire flat was just as burnt. I can't even tell you the first thing she did wrong besides letting her think she can be Betty fucking Crocker."

This causes Hermione to pause in picking up the pans from the island, "How do you know about Betty Crocker?" Hermione barely knows about it herself, she has only seen the cake mixes down the American aisle at a local grocery store.

"Cooking recipes are universal, 'Mione and hello, you're talking to a kitchenware heiress." Pansy proudly bragged about her limited muggle knowledge while wearing a smug grin, "I know these things at least."

Hermione raises an eyebrow at Pansy's confidence, "But… you don't know what a microwave oven even is."

That proud smirk instantly fell, "Yeah, but I don't need micro-whatevers, do I?"

"Waves." Hermione corrects. 

Pansy uses a gesture to wave it off with her hand, "Micro-Whatever-Waves, okay?"

Hermione bobbles her head as if she was really agreeing with her silly wife, "Alright, yes, whatever waves you want then. Mechanical. Electromagnetic. All of it ." She had a feeling Pansy would be absolutely horrified by a microwave if the witch knew how one worked. 

"I don't know what all of that means, but yes!" Pansy loves getting what she wants!

Her response had caused Pansy to laugh from it and there was a little bit of warmth in Hermione's heart again when hearing that bright and bubbly sound being the cause of herself. She focused back on her own task at hand so she doesn't make any spills and sent both pans straight into the oven. 

The large kitchen allowed for both to move around freely and not bump into each other. So there were no accidental spills or even utensils and bowls clattering into the floor as they went to work around each other. In wanting to leave their afternoon open, both decided not to take any unneeded breaks that weren't the toilet. They just kept following the next steps in the recipes and whisked away. Hermione did most of the whisking and blending for Pansy that is… which did peeve her a little bit, she had to admit when Pansy would call on her to do the more tedious work. 

Had the two been ten years younger and back at Hogwarts none of that would have gone very well. Hermione would have snapped at the pretty heiress for bossing her around and maybe Pansy would have purposefully caused a cauldron to blow up in Hermione's face if it meant the Slytherin girl could have an excuse as to never be partnered up with and bossed around by the Gryffindor girl ever again.

Well, gaining maturity was important to any relationship. 

After the biscuit dough was rolled around by Pansy; smoothed and compressed into a soft and round doughy ball, Hermione was then tasked with the pin-roller by her wife.

"..." Yeah, it was easy for Hermione to guess what her new task in the kitchen was supposed to be. I hate cooking. I hate baking, Hermione muttered darkly to herself as she cut the dough ball in half and started to flatten the first out. 

Hermione would secretly look up from rolling the dough to watch her 'dear' wife starting to run around the kitchen. Pansy had a bit of flour unknowingly on her cheek and the green starry eyes were wide and anxious. Pansy had been holding a plum jar in hand while looking all over and under the kitchen table and island for her blackthorn wand she had placed down somewhere. She had originally been trying to find her biscuit cutter, but she really couldn't find anything without her wand. Pansy looked a little bit at a loss without the help of elves every now and then in the kitchen. All she had was Hermione Granger now. 

"Do you know where I placed my wand?" Pansy's cheeks were flushed when she had to stop and ask Hermione.

For the pretty witch it felt a bit embarrassing to ask the talented witch herself. Unlike Pansy, Hermione could lose her wand and not have it hinder her. She could even summon her own wand to her side a few times. Days like this, Pansy internally wished she had that sort of confidence and talent when it came to magic.

With the fox in a frenzy, Hermione relaxed the discontent in her heart. She suddenly thought Pansy Granger, her dear and darling wife, was extremely cute instead. Cooking isn't so bad. Baking isn't so bad…Merlin, am I done for?

"Did you leave it in the cellar when you grabbed a jar?"

"Oh, thanks." Pansy had a breathy laugh to sweep away the embarrassment she had. "You just keep rolling." 

She left in a hurry again. 

Hermione's pride couldn't help but still show its ugly face though when she disappeared to the cellar, prodding and poking at Hermione's good mood. Am I just going to let her spout directions at me like that?

Yes! Yes, I am, especially when she acts and looks like that! Hermione argued back at herself. Her brain then asked its miffed pride, Have you ever read 'My Proud Husband Comes Back From The Dead To Chase Me'? No, of course Hermione never read such a ridiculous novel like her dormmates had, but her brain does still unfortunately remember bits and pieces of it from overhearing Parvati read it out loud, so it shamelessly adds on: The domineering guy gives in and becomes the female lead's husband—he even gets to cool the bed for her! Get it? No, Hermione grimaced. She didn't actually want to get her own joke. Because the couple have sex, but he's dead, right? So it can't be 'warm the bed'—

"..." Hermione wants to shut her brain off. For a bright witch who has a brain filled with knowledge and trauma from the war, she apparently also has a bunch of sludge up in there too!

Pansy had returned from the cellar to see that her 'darling' wife had a sour look on a sunburnt face. Hermione had been taking her frustrations out on the dough this entire time; smoothing and flattening it down. 

"..." It was Pansy's turn to be speechless, but she did her best to comfort Hermione's sudden mood swing. Pansy praised her, "Wow, I can never get the dough this smooth in just a short amount of time. You're much better at this than me…"

Hermione let go of her other thoughts when complimented and hummed with a bit of smugness herself, "Naturally." 

It sounded more like Pansy was praising a child, but why did it still appease Hermione's pride—well, who likes to be flattered more than pride itself? It's no wonder why the cocky bastards of the House of Slytherin collapsed under Pansy Parkinson's sweetness—it was actually a poison!

The idea of getting to proudly show off her baking to her friends was exciting to think about though. It was probably one of the only exciting things that Hermione was actually looking forward to tonight. She wanted to watch them all enjoy the cake and biscuits and then happily tell them afterwards, 'Yes, I helped make it!' Especially to Ron and Harry!

Maybe Pansy was doing this on purpose then? So, I can have that sense of pride of having done the hard labor myself? But, if I do it on my own…it doesn't really change how it tastes. Does it? Hermione thought about it, but then denied Pansy's purpose. Wasn't baking a cake supposed to melt the ice for Pansy and the other guests? It had nothing to do with me...I just...wanted to bake a cake together with Pansy. 

Minutes passed by with an overflowing scent of chocolate cake baking in the oven, but it wasn't yet time to take it out. Pansy and Hermione now had an entire sheet pan lined up with more than a dozen round sugar biscuits. More than enough for guests and children at Harry's dinner. Before going into the oven though the biscuits still needed to be filled up with jam.

Hermione was in charge of making the chocolate frosting, so Pansy planned to add a dollop of jam into the pressed indentions herself. She handed over a large chocolate bar along with a large knife to get Hermione started. Hermione chopped blocks of chocolate along with Pansy's careful reminder to curl her fingers into her palm when holding a knife. 

She did so, but Pansy would occasionally catch the wrinkles forming on Hermione's forehead as if the bright witch was irritable, again, at something she did. 

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Pansy finally asked in confusion over her shoulder. She had just finished applying the plum jam, and began to slide the large biscuit pan into the oven, while also taking out the two pans of cake to let them cool.

Hermione pauses the knife. "No, I'm overthinking it." My bad habit of wanting to be in charge wants to surface that's all…logically, this isn't my territory of expertise, so it's actually better if someone else leads the scene. 

??? Pansy really thought the brightest witch of her age should stop thinking then! Especially with a knife in her hand and scowling like that! Pansy closed the oven door and came over to Hermione's left side; she held the hand that gripped the knife and stared down at the finely cut up chocolate. 

"Is that supposed to be me?" 

Pansy was clearly talking about being chopped up like the chocolate bar?!

"This is chocolate." Hermione frowned. "Why would it be you?" It wasn't Pansy that was the chocolate bar. It was Hermione! With Pansy subtly holding her hand back from chopping, Hermione placed the knife down next to the chocolate.

She felt Pansy's hand slowly start to travel to her wrist and caress her forearm affectionately, and her eyes followed that rogue hand with curiosity. Despite not having any visible muscle worth mentioning, Pansy really liked to tease Hermione like this.

Pansy soon asked Hermione with a raised eyebrow, "Okay, what are you overthinking then?"

"I don't know." She didn't plan to tell Pansy about that silly pride or her current thoughts. 

"Right." Pansy's hand on Hermione's arm tightened and she slowly leaned towards Hermione's face with suspicion. "Hermione Granger overthinks, but she doesn't know what she is overthinking? Does that really sound right?"

Soft lips suddenly brush over Hermione's cheek and then to the corner of her mouth. It was almost a kiss. Hermione pretends not to show this time of how tempted she was by Pansy's flirtatious movements. She moves her head out of Pansy's direction, even leaning back to catch sight of any fluffy tail that might swish by with Pansy's mischievous smile. 

"What did you do that for?"  

"I don't know~" The vixen echoed back a similar response, but it trailed rather charmingly unlike Hermione's. "Maybe instead of overthinking it, why don't you just do it back?"

…I want more...

Pansy's hip rested into the island counter and with a hand on Hermione's arm, Pansy dragged Hermione's own weight to press into her. Hermione's eyes began to shift between the warm and dark amber while staring into those spell-bound green eyes. 

...I need more...

Hermione puts her lips to Pansy's plush lips and engulfs herself into jasmine again. It was easy to just fall right into the groove of each other's bodies. Hermione liked that. Pansy loved that. Her tongue wants to lick and her teeth want to nibble, she wants to eat Pansy clean, but Hermione feels she should be gentle this time despite the hunger heating up in her lower abdomen. A hand pressed the back of her waves, Pansy had wanted to deepen the kiss and the eagerness caused Hermione to wrap her hand around Pansy's waist, putting a tight grip on her; blocking the vixen in case she wants to suddenly slip out of her control. Pansy didn't tuck tail and run. She lightly hummed and moaned while in Hermione's embrace. 

A soft moan had demanded Hermione, "More."

She obliges. Her tongue collides with Pansy's own tongue, her hands start to move to caress Pansy's back, until she finds that annoying obstacle of the perfect bow she had tied from before, and her hand has to lower to Pansy's hips again. 

So, Baking? Rolling? Chopping? Overthinking? No, Hermione's mouth and brain are too busy now to care about those things, come back another time. Gone Kissing.

Pansy's hands moved down to Hermione's purple apron and her fingers pinched the woven texture. Those grey stripes from Hermione's button shirt underneath the apron were faded from age and repeated washing. It had been tucked neatly into muggle jeans so she wanted to mess it all up, but it was still much more pleasing to Pansy's eyes than the apron that added an extra layer to Hermione Granger. Pansy moved her lips away and furrowed her brow at Hermione's clothes. 

Brown eyes curiously lower to inspect the perfect manicure of seashell pink nails that had scratched at the apron's pockets expectantly. Hermione was starting to think the apron wasn't attractive to wear anymore either. 

With the two lips having parted, Pansy nuzzles her cheek against Hermione's own and softly asks again this time, "Why are you taking it out on the chocolate, 'Mione?"

Pansy's affection made Hermione feel like that the witch would really listen to her...see her...understand her...that they were a real couple, but knowing the truth about how their marriage was only out of convenience makes her chest hurt. But Hermione still...liked it, this closeness with Pansy Parkinson, despite that reality. 

Hermione sighs, "No, it's just....I feel uncomfortable when I'm not…" 

When I'm not in control...The one making the decisions. The one with the directions. The one that knows everything. That uneasiness that I can't let go of. Hermione is suddenly too embarrassed to say all of that out loud though. She was still too cowardly to say a lot of things to Pansy. Usually, unlike Ron, Hermione could talk about feelings, but suddenly her Gryffindor courage had disappeared all over again in the face of Pansy Parkinson. 

Hermione mutters, "It doesn't matter."

Pansy seems to know anyway. She knows that twelve-year old know-it-all with a bossy attitude hasn't died off in the slightest. Pansy lifts her cheek off of Hermione's. And that knowing thought seemed to cause Pansy to lightly laugh. It first starts off like a snort, but then the laughter is bubbly and bright. The pretty witch had to cover her mouth to hide the sudden outburst. Pansy's eyes dart away from Hermione's that turned a little dark with irritation. 

There was a muffled reply that Hermione could hardly make out from behind the hand, but she could see that Pansy's cheeks were flushed. When she caught those starry green eyes, Hermione knew the laughter hadn't been malicious. 

"You are—" Pansy's eyes that were like bright stars turn back to that scowl that had been stuck on Hermione when she heard the witch laugh, and she paused at the sight of it. Pansy removed her hand from her mouth to then bravely smooth out the wrinkles from her wife's forehead.

Hermione's heart melts again when feeling those soft fingers press on her face and those eyes stare only at her. Those starry green eyes are filled with something Hermione couldn't fully read, but maybe...Am I crazy to think that Pansy might actually feel the same...?

Pansy doesn't ever finish her sentence though, she only lets her hand fall away after.

Hermione could only try to encourage it out of the witch, "What about me?"

The pretty face tilts up with the sun rays shining down through the kitchen windows and onto Pansy. Just staring at Pansy in this lighting makes Hermione want to kiss her again. 

Pansy answers, "You're very domineering…aren't you?"

I want to kiss Pansy until she opens her mouth...  

Hermione helplessly sighed at the reality in front of her. Yes, she was a little bit that, but could Pansy follow the atmosphere and say something romantic? She asked the vixen this time to play into her fantasy, "No, can you say something sweet to me?"

Pansy leaned her head back from Hermione to examine the witch in front of her a bit more clearly, she acts like she might be staring at someone brand new, "No?"

Is she mocking me or can she not say anything sweet?  

"No? Pan." She's pleading when she shortens the witch's name, really. 

"I can..." Pansy pulls the wilted and confused witch in for a kiss again. "I like that you're—"

Unfortunately, a fluttering of wings came swooping into the kitchen and interrupted Pansy. 

Hermione looked over to the source of the noise and found a Northern Pygmy owl. It's round little body perched itself onto the back of the kitchen chair and held out a leg and talons to show off a rolled up note to them.There was a red bow around the neck. It didn't seem all that practical to Hermione for the small owl to have it. The pygmy must belong to someone that Pansy knows since she didn't know of any decorated owls herself. 

"I'm guessing that's…for you?" Doubtful to even think she would hear back from Lavender Brown so soon. Pansy's agent had learned that Lavender currently had another project she was involved in, so would be in touch 'sometime in July'.

Hermione steps back from Pansy, unwillingly, but still let the pretty witch go. 

"Yeah," Pansy sighed with some annoyance, "It's for me." She doesn't look too pleased about the owl interrupting them.

When Pansy makes no movement to even take the letter though, Hermione volunteers to do it herself. She cautiously eyes the strange owl who swivels the head about while surveying its surroundings and goes to untie the note from the outstretched leg.

When the pygmy owl noticed Hermione approaching it, the owl clicked its beak at her fingers and even hisses at her. 

Hermione was taken aback by the aggressive behavior. Well, nevermind! What a rude little owl! I don't want my fingers to get nipped! Either this was the owl's personality or it was very protective about letters going to the right person. 

Pansy was now offended at the sight of the little owl hissing at her own wife. She waves off the pygmy owl, and still didn't even bother with the note, "Fuck off now, Tabitha! You vulgar little thing…"  

So, it was Tabitha's 'shining' personality! I fear who the owner might be then…

Tabitha didn't seem like she was going anywhere though. She only scoots a bit atop the back end of the chair and continuously opens her beak to hiss in Hermione's direction. Tabitha was very clear in not wanting Hermione to approach her, and the message was well received, because Hermione didn't have any plans to lose any fingers.

Pansy scolds Tabitha, "Don't you hiss at her…Fine! I'll take the damn note..." Her own hand now reluctantly goes for the letter, but Tabitha suddenly seems confused by whose hands are reaching out for her and she opens her beak to attack again.

"Careful!" Hermione's eyes widen and she protectively snatches her wife's hand back from Tabitha. 

The pygmy owl was tiny, but it still had a sharp beak and talons—they'll snatch up a songbird in a heartbeat!

At the same time of pulling Pansy back from the pygmy, a much larger owl swoops into the kitchen. Dark long talons stretch out and when the large shadow hovers over Tabitha, the much larger owl creates a sense of crisis in that tiny little body. When the sharp nails come straight down the little owl screeches and quickly dodges from becoming prey. Tabitha barrel rolls up into the air and only by getting her balance back does she turn right side up. Flustered, her wings flutter above the chair again and she cautiously glares down at the intruder that had just attacked her.

A low warning hoot from Gracie greets Tabitha back and her gold eyes turn into slits. She perches atop the back of the chair now and her large wings fold gracefully; her coffee feathers ruffle in disgust at the Northern Pygmy owl that flutters above her. The long-eared owl's size alone intimidates the much smaller breed of owl. 

"See?" Pansy smugly smiles at Tabitha, "Don't think I don't have anyone to handle you. Gracie is five times your size! And, she'll eat you!"

Hermione doesn't know about Gracie eating another owl, but when she first saw Tabitha snap at Pansy like that, her heart had jumped straight into her throat and wanted to commit a crime, so Gracie definitely earned a mouse for coming to the rescue!

Looking a bit miffed, Tabitha can only land onto the back of another chair and away from Gracie, her eyes darting to Gracie who had put the fear of Natural Selection back in Tabitha. The little owl certainly wouldn't cause anymore trouble. 

Pansy unties the note from the pygmy owl's leg. Being well behaved, Tabitha now only made soft and aggrieved hoots towards Pansy— as if the pygmy owl was a victim here, but both Gracie and Hermione didn't let their guard down.

Pansy ignored Tabitha's pitiful remarks and with the note now she dismissed the pygmy owl, "Go on then."

The Northern Pygmy owl's yellow eyes dart to Gracie for a split second and then toward the swinging door of the kitchen. Tabitha had been calculating the safest speed to escape the larger owls's retaliation. Tabitha soon lifts off—taking a dive over Hermione's head first as she does, but that only caused Gracie, despite her larger size, to quickly rush after and chase off the rude little owl from the property. 

Hermione had ducked in time when both owls flew over her head, but loose fluff and feathers still fell on her head. She shakes the fluff out of her hair and watches it slowly fall to the kitchen floor.

Do I even ask where this little owl filled with hate even comes from? Hermione stops sweeping off feathers and lifts her head to see Pansy opening the note. 

Hermione caught a glimpse of bright red ink. It had terrible penmanship, either that was someone's actual handwriting or the sender was drunk. She could still make out a few words, '... to see you. '

She couldn't help but be a little nosy and ask, "Who even uses red ink?"

Hermione has only ever used emerald or black herself, as it was the most common ink to be used by most witches and wizards. There had been a few people adapting to write in purple and blue lately for the cheap ink sales, but red was a big surprise. In fact, she only knows of professors using red to grade student papers...

Pansy mutters an answer while reading the note with a scrunched up face, "Dodgy people…" The pretty witch starts to crinkle up the note in her hands after reading, and adds another option, "...and ex-girlfriends."

Hermione blinks in confusion, "What?"

《—》

Pansy was too embarrassed to say the letter belonged to Eloise Midgen as that would only lead to more questioning, so she only told Hermione, "We broke up years ago, and she's really not worth mentioning, okay?"

In her opinion, Eloise really was not a witch worth mentioning, especially not in the presence of Hermione Granger who had an outstanding and righteous character. She doesn't even think that the two witches have ever crossed paths since the war, and it's extremely doubtful that Hermione knew anything about Pansy having dated Eloise. 

Eloise had made up many excuses to Pansy on why their relationship had to be kept secret from her friends… a red flag that Blaise of all people told me to be careful about… but of course, back in 2002 with her down and out reputation, Pansy could only agree with Eloise. Who wants to openly be girlfriends with the witch who offered Harry Potter up to the Dark Lord? Who wants to be— No, it's best not to spiral into that right now…

Hermione eyes the fist that holds on tightly to the crinkled note, but then looks away, "Okay. It's not my business."

It's not that it isn't, it's just… Again, despite all the bad history that Hermione already knew about Pansy, Eloise was just one of the things that Pansy didn't want Hermione to know about...such a humiliating time in my life. The amount of people that would call it deserving. 

It wasn't even a letter. It was really a note. A simple line, 'I want to see you.' No, what Eloise actually wanted to see was Pansy's money! Eloise was once again wanting luxury bags, enchanted dresses, and designer shoes—a lifestyle that the witch certainly couldn't afford on her own with her low-level desk jockey salary. Eloise actually knows better than to ask Pansy though. She knows very well that Pansy won't give her any of these things anymore, but every once in a while it's like the witch somehow hits her head and thinks that Pansy still loves her—because Pansy loves Millicent, because Eloise somehow figured out Pansy's weakness. About Millicent. The reason why Pansy had even tolerated all the red flags that was Eloise Midgen. Morgana forbid, if Eloise Midgen ever contacts Hermione Granger about any of it... Pansy might actually break down and write out a Gringotts' slip then, because that really was her bottom line. 

It wasn't even the first of Eloise's notes that Pansy came across. The woman writes four times out of the year since the break up— if not more, because the witch is blacklisted. It had to have been for that damn petty bill Pansy sent to her ex-girlfriend after a night of drunk crying on Daphne's hardwood floors with puffy eyes and an upset tummy. She had only wanted to slap all those receipts back in Eloise's face and show the cheating witch that she will never afford half of what Pansy had spent again. Now, under the guise of paying Pansy back, Eloise can have her pygmy owl occasionally slip through her wards with such little notes.

Hermione had been right about the power of witches and their intentions being written down on a harmless piece of parchment…

Not that Pansy has ever even seen a knut from Eloise after all these years. Sometimes it's just desperate love notes of wanting to get back together, which Pansy won't ever do, other times it's trying to blackmail Pansy, which Pansy doesn't take seriously, and there was even hate mail, which Pansy doesn't even bother with—all written like Eloise was drunk when she wrote them. Pansy knows, because the woman can't write for shit when she's five shots of tequila in. Pansy could even guess the flavor: watermelon schnapps. That was Eloise's favorite. 

Despite Hermione's comment that it wasn't her own business, Pansy still felt her wife's prying eyes all afternoon. The soft-hearted part of Pansy wanted to crack and confess, but the strict part of herself… well, she couldn't tell Hermione!

From whipping up the chocolate cream, decorating cherries on top, boxing up the chocolate gâteau and thumbprint biscuits, Hermione's eyes had been on Pansy. Even when Pansy went to pick out a set of clothes together for the Potter's dinner. Only by Pansy teasing Hermione's stares with, "Are you going to watch me change too, Granger?" did her red faced wife finally spin right out of the walk-in wardrobe and out of sight with a pair of plaid trousers.