"Look at her," said Ginny, poking Harry on his side as the latter was taking a gulp of pumpkin juice. He almost spat it out, but forced it down when he found what his fiancee was now looking at.

Hermione was walking into the Great Hall with Draco Malfoy at her side, his hand on the small of her back. While that was enough reason to be concerned (disgruntled, really), Harry felt himself frowning at the fact that Hermione was letting it happen.

"Stop it right now, Harry Potter." Ginny pushed her finger into his ribs again, this time a little harsher. "We wanted her to be okay. And things look like they are okay."

Harry grumbled under his breath, knowing well enough he was better off not contradicting Ginny. Given that she was right—still, he did not have to like it. Even if he had hoped that Hermione and Malfoy could find common ground to ensure that her future would not be miserable.

The closer they got, however, laughing quietly to each other like they already had inside jokes and private moments, Harry knew it was one thing to wish on it and another to see it happen.

"Hi, Hermione!" Ginny almost shouted, her arm shooting out to wave eagerly at her friend.

At the attention she garnered from Ginny's loud greeting, Hermione's smile slipped into a grimace as she stepped away from Draco's touch.

"Having a good day, Malfoy?" asked Ginny, a perfectly innocent smile on her face, but both Hermione and Harry recognized the glint in her blue eyes that told them she was up to no good. "Get a good lie-in? You two arrived much later to breakfast than usual. By which I mean you didn't and now it is dinner time."

While Draco scoffed at what she was implying and Hermione turned bright pink, Harry was the one who said, "I'm still eating here, Gin. Please stop."

"Just being observant," offered Ginny sweetly before bringing her left hand up to her face, cupping the side of her jaw. "One of us has to be."

"What does that even—You have a ring!" exclaimed Hermione before she could really start to admonish Ginny for her antics. She yanked Ginny's hand from her face, bringing it close to hers to examine it. It was simple, but beautiful: a twisting gold band that fused together to hold up a tasteful diamond at the center.

It was classic, like Harry and Ginny's love.

"Are you crying, 'Mione?" asked her best friend.

"Shut up," she huffed at Harry as she let go of Ginny's hand. Still, she laughed when she looked at his smirk. "When did you give it to her? When did you even get the ring?"

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but registered the Slytherin still standing beside Hermione. After the war, after he knew it was safe to love Ginny Weasley and imagine a future that could be better than anything he ever had, he allowed himself to think of the different ways they would tell their friends that they were engaged. None of those times Draco was present.

In those daydreams, Harry had forgotten the Malfoy family entirely.

But in the path they were on now, Hermione was going to marry into it.

"Andromeda sent it last night," Harry finally spoke, clearing his throat as he looked back at his best friend's curious, warm gaze. "I owled her after the sorting and asked if she'd help me pick something."

"Anyone else would have chosen something over the top," Ginny added, resting her head on Harry's shoulder. "But that's not who we are, is it? Andromeda's gotten to see that all summer. And I think she really likes us."

"Well, you are her only family now," Hermione caught herself saying before she could process the words.

Although she was still aware of Draco standing next to her, Hermione had forgotten the ties his family had severed with Andromeda Tonks decades back. It was not his fault, of course; Andromeda had been born into the Black family, one of the first Pureblood bloodlines to gain unmeasurable power and wealth, as well as the top soldiers in the fight against those they considered less. Despite being groomed to continue this legacy alongside her sisters Narcissa and Bellatrix, Andromeda Black fell in love with Ted Tonks, a Muggle-Born.

Being disowned from the Blacks was hardly the harshest point of Andromeda's narrative, but what happened after certainly was. She had lost everyone but her grandson Teddy to this war. And while Draco had not cast any of the Killing Curses that had taken Andromeda's loved ones from her, Hermione knew—with his Death Eater father and his Malfoy-Black mother— that his family would always bring up nightmares for a lot of the people in her life.

Draco must have known that, too, because he was already turning to leave when Ginny called out for him: "Sit down with us, Malfoy. There's plenty of room here."

"There is?" both Hermione and Harry questioned, eyes wide when looking at the redhead.

"You two are a freakshow—no offense," Ginny added, a grin back on her face when Draco and Hermione both glared at her now. "And I am honestly insulted I have not gotten to witness it firsthand. All we have going are blind bets as to what you two get up to."

"Who's 'we' exactly?" demanded Hermione as she pulled Draco to the seats across from Harry and Ginny. "Need I remind you that McGonagall has prohibited all students from—"

"Granger, it's actually a smart wager," Draco interrupted her. He scoffed at her frown now directed at him. "I mean, you have tried to curse me at least three times now."

Before Hermione could tell him there was about to be a fourth time, Dean plopped himself on her left, his hair drenched.

"Bloody hell, mate," sighed Harry, tossing his unused cloth napkin at his friend. "Not the cloud again. Maybe consider going to the Hospital Wing. You're going to end up getting a cold at this rate."

"It'll just be another thing on my list that makes me feel horrible," grumbled Dean as he patted his face with the cloth. "If only someone would brew me a numbing potion to stop this heartache."

Draco and Ginny both grimaced at Dean.

"I'm not doing that," Hermione told him. "I've already told you I won't. Besides, you're thinking of alcohol. There are actually no potions that can make that happen."

"Then brew me some firewhiskey, 'Mione! I'm miserable here."

"Zabini actually has a few bottles hidden in—"

"Don't encourage him." Hermione smacked Draco's shoulder. "Dean, I don't see why you can't just talk to Luna. I'm sure there is a perfectly good reason why she's been behaving weirdly lately."

Draco smirked to himself as the words isn't she always weird, isn't that her thing wanted to leave his mouth, but across from him, Harry narrowed his righteous, green eyes, daring him to say what he must have guessed would be Draco's reaction.

"I've tried talking to her," mumbled Dean, a small circle of fog appearing over his head. Hermione sent it away with a wave of her wrist before it turned into another storm. "She just runs the opposite way when she sees me. Could I," he paused for a moment, looking up at his friends with a sadness that was no longer amusing to the others, "Could I have been wrong about her feelings? Were those rumors true and she was actually mad for Neville all these years?"

Hermione took the napkin from his fingers, taking it upon herself to assist with the rainwater running down the back of his neck.

Draco watched her; there was kindness in her brown eyes that mirrored the gentle way she touched Dean. He could not remember any moment in time when someone had shown him that type of sympathy and warmth. And here Hermione was, armed with it for any occasion no matter who it was.

"Pull yourself together, mate," Ginny said with a huff. "Luna adores you—I would know, she's my best friend. And while that's true, maybe you haven't stopped to consider the weight all of this mess actually carries. I don't think any of us actually have. The Ministry isn't just forcing us to get married, but they are forcing us to adjust any dreams we had for ourselves to fit their plans."

"I would never stop Luna from going after what she wants."

"And Harry would never stop me, but that doesn't mean I'm not nervous about becoming a wife," Ginny told him, bringing her left hand up so Dean could see her ring. "We were supposed to have years to figure this shit out. Now we only have months. Believe me, everyone is terrified."

Slowly, Dean nodded, letting her words sink in. He reached for Hermione's wrist, squeezing once, before standing.

"Did you break-up with him again?" asked Ron as he approached the table, a tray of food in his hands as he watched Dean leave without a word. "He keeps acting like it was a terrible thing, but I say he dodged a curse. He's way too good for you."

Ginny was about to tell her brother to stuff it, but she noticed the glitter in his eyes she had not seen for years. The last time she had, Ron was laughing from the kitchen table as Fred and George tested out edible products for the grand opening of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Hermione and Harry noticed it, too.

Ron sat beside Harry, keeping a grin on his face he knew well enough made them suspicious. They were looking at him like any second now he was going to burn red until there were only ashes among them. Of course, Ron could not deny that he had already cast a flame and lit up the ground, the bridge just a short distance away.

A part of him that was still shadowed with grief and fury wanted to see the fire eat everything in sight, but Ron caught himself running, conjuring water to stop any damage coming to the bridges he had built alongside those he loved the most.

"Okay. Right. This is definitely wicked. We're having our meals with the Gryffindors now." Another tray of food was set on the table, distracting the friends from a silent conversation that actually needed to be voiced one day. Blaise peered down at them, grinning as Goyle forced himself in the space between Draco and another Gryffindor. "We're making history here, Greg. Breathe in the moment."

"Zabini," Hermione let out a long, exhausted sigh. "Must you actually be here?"

Blaise was quick to snatch a dinner roll from Ginny's plate before sitting. "All revolutions require greatness, Granger."

"No one has ever said you were great at anything," Draco told his friend, his pale features sharp as he glared at both Blaise and Goyle.

"Shouldn't you be with the Ravenclaws?" Ron inquired before tearing into a drumstick. "Or does Chang still hate you?"

"I think she might like him now, actually," said Hermione. "She watched him cry all night and didn't leave."

"Made him tea and wrapped him up in a blanket," added Draco, a sneer slowly pulling at the corners of his mouth when the Gryffindors started laughing. "He fell asleep in her arms."

Blaise glared, reaching across Hermione to punch Draco on the chest. "I wasn't crying—!"

"You were," Hermione affirmed, pushing him back from her personal space. "And it's perfectly fine, Zabini. Being a sensitive person is not a bad thing. It just means you are aware of your emotions. And, honestly, after all the jerks Cho has dated, she can use some sensitivity."

"Oi," Harry hissed. "I was never a jerk to her."

"You weren't great either," muttered Ginny, earning more howls of laughter from those around her. She smiled wide at Harry's outraged face before throwing her arms around him, squeezing. "It's not your fault, sweetheart. You're just terrible at talking to girls."

Before Harry could attempt to contradict something even the Slytherins amongst them knew, Pansy Parkinson strolled up beside him. Harry looked up at her, brows furrowing together at her sudden presence, but she put one hand on his shoulder and the other on Ron's.

"I've been sitting by myself for twenty minutes," she hissed at the Slytherins, "wondering where in the hell my mates were when—can you believe it—they were sitting right behind me all this time!"

Blaise snorted as he cut his steak. "When have we ever sat with you?"

Pansy took a roasted potato from Harry's plate and threw it at Blaise. "The point is that I had to listen to Millie go on and about that idiot Macmillan. Does it look like I want to know that they've already christened their chambers?"

"No one wants to know that, Parkinson," Ginny said with a cringe. "Why would you even tell us that?"

Pansy smirked the shared sentiments among her classmates before pushing Harry aside, demanding space to fit herself in between him and Ron. Once she was seated, she turned to place a kiss on Ron's cheek.

Although he was now bright red, Ron managed to avoid all of the shocked faces to return the kiss. Sneaky as she was, Pansy turned right on time for his mouth to end up on hers.

"We died, didn't we?" asked Ginny, looking back and forth between Hermione and Harry. "Is this some kind of alternative reality where Peeves won the war and now he's making us live out our worst nightmares?"

Pansy pulled away from Ron, both keeping their smiles as she used her thumb to wipe away her lipstick from his cheek.

"Your turn, Granger," said Blaise, elbowing her. "Snog my mate Draco. I've got a bet going with Nott and Davies that it'll happen by this week."

"You're an idiot," Hermione told him before pulling herself up from the bench.

"'Mione?"

"I'm going to go," she replied to Ron, but addressed Harry and Ginny, too. Although she was smiling at them, they noticed the pink beneath her cheeks disappearing.

Hermione was not good at lying—something even Draco knew.

He also knew he recognized the way she looked at Pansy and Ron. It had been the same way she had lamented from afar when he dated Lavender Brown in Sixth Year.

Before she crossed the doors of the Great Hall, Draco took a hold of her arm. There was nothing aggressive about the way he did, but Hermione still yanked herself free from his touch. It was rare when she was angry, but Draco had been the only person constantly at the other end of it to know it anywhere.

"You don't have to follow me, Malfoy," she said as she continued to walk away from him, turning left to the first corridor she saw. "Enjoy your dinner with your mates."

"Granger—" He reached for her again, this time his fingers gripping hers. She looked down at their hands clasped together, her anger directed at them now. "Is this about Pansy and Weasley? Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?" Hermione repeated like she had never heard the word before.

"You loved him," Draco said. "Everyone knew that."

She looked up from their hands. "Is it weird seeing him kiss someone else? Yes, Malfoy. Of course it is. There is a part of me that still can't comprehend all of this mess—especially not the part of myself that once believed I'd be with him when everything was done. But that's a small part now."

"Then what is it?"

"Why do you care, Malfoy?"

Draco's fingers pulled away from hers. The silence in the corridor was loud in comparison to the noise of their classmates walking in and out of the Great Hall just a few yards away.

"Fine," he said, low and cold. "I'm not doing this with you anymore, Granger. I've tried doing the right thing since our talk with McGonagall, but every time you remind me that it's for nothing."

"That's not fair. I'm trying—"

"No, you're not. Every time we reach an understanding, it's like you remember who I am and we end up right where we started."

Hermione held the oxygen deep in her lungs, not letting it escape. She was aware, of course, that Draco had been putting in more effort into their betrothal than she was. Could Hermione be blamed for her hesitance? No. She knew she had every right to be, but her fears went beyond lingering feelings of mistrust. Seeing Ron with Pansy simply brought back what Hermione was trying not to fret over when she woke up every morning to Draco sleeping beside her.

She was going to be his wife.

Ginny had been right to remind Dean of the weight that carried for a lot of them.

With time and experience, they were all supposed to learn what it meant to be a partner.

When Ron had let Hermione go, she knew her romantic life was hurling straight into the unknown. She was scared of having to learn not to love the boy she had been daydreaming about since she was a young girl, but more so to think there were people out there that she did not know who would end up getting a lot of her firsts. She allowed herself moments to contemplate who that would be and how they would change her, but the Ministry announced they would be taking control of that part for her.

Now all her firsts belonged to Draco Malfoy.

"I don't want to be a wager among our classmates," Hermione breathed, braving herself to look at Draco. "I want to be your friend, Malfoy, but I need time for everything else, okay?"

A kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across Draco's silver eyes, Hermione could see. He struggled with landing on one and letting himself feel it. While she spent a lot of years stating that he had no capability to feel anything else other than arrogance and anger, Hermione knew it was what was easier for him.

Safer.

She was not surprised when Draco held on to anger before letting it evaporate.

"We're not Pansy and Weasley," he said. "And maybe we'll never be Potter and his mental girlfriend, but I can promise I'll never ask anything from you that you don't want to give, Granger."

Hermione was not aware that tears had fallen past her eyes to dive onto her cheeks until Draco closed the space between them. He caught them with his thumb, wiping all evidence away.

"Can I hug you?"

"What?" she murmured, her oxygen threatening to get caught in her lungs again.

"Never hugged a Gryffindor before. I'm thinking now's a good a time as any."

Hermione could not find it in herself to be annoyed at Draco when his arms wrapped around her waist and she buried her face into his chest.