So, a user mentioned in the reviews that my story seemed to have been copied from a Wattpad story, which is... confusing, to say the least, for a few reasons. The first reason is that I don't think I have ever actually read a Wattpad story. I tend to stick to AO3 and ff. Secondly, I admitted in the notes on the first chapter that the main premise was borrowed from an old Drarry story (which, if I recall correctly, was posted on this site, not Wattpad), and I would love to give that story due credit if I could remember the title or author. That said, none of what I have written was copied word-for-word, or even paraphrased, from anything I have seen, and any of the characters not taken from canon were pulled straight from my own imagination, so any resemblance to other stories (besides that which I already stated) is completely unintentional. If the issue persists, I am completely willing to take the story down, but I really would like to know what I'm being accused of ripping off first.

About the chapter, however: I'm afraid I fell into the trap of using dialogue from a language I do not know. There are a couple lines of French in this chapter, copied straight from Google Translate. If the gaping errors in syntax bug anyone actually fluent in the language, my apologies in advance. The intended meaning is stated directly after the lines, which does make me wonder why I didn't just put the English words into italics and say that they were speaking French, but hindsight is 20/20.

Sorry for the abrupt ending, but there really was not a better place to cut it off.

Glimpses Into A Future Imperfect

Chapter Two

At first, her dreams were pleasant ones—mainly of her and Draco free to be themselves around the ones they loved, but occasionally, Harry and Luna made an appearance, the two of them adorably, bizarrely in love. Unfortunately, as time went on, a shadow disturbed her dreams. Suddenly, she was watching her children, seeing them flee from a threat all too familiar to her.

But he's dead! she thought desperately. He has to be. They said we won!

In the back of her head, the name slipped in and out like a dolphin through the water—or a snake through the grass. Riddle… Riddle… Riddle…

Dumbledore's introduction: Professor Delphini Riddle!

It was impossible. Her children's screams echoed in her mind as she woke gasping in the early-morning light.

Sitting up in bed, she berated herself for being silly. Dumbledore would not have let the woman into the castle if she had anything to do with Voldemort.

Is that true? her contrary mind questioned. He let Quirrell in. He let Barty Crouch in. Why not Delphini Riddle? The thought felt like betrayal, but she could not deny its merit. She devised the ritual, so if she is after something, it requires her to be in this time specifically. What happens now that is so significant? What could she want to change? Possibilities fluttered through her mind, to be dismissed one by one. The only one that sounded plausible to her was the idea that Riddle wanted the time to help Voldemort prepare for the war so that he would not lose as he did in Riddle's past.

But why use the name Riddle? The thought prodded at her. It's hardly inconspicuous. Why not disguise herself instead of creating that connection to Voldemort?

Hermione's eyes widened. Unless she truly is a Riddle. But Harry says that Voldemort was an only child, his mum died, and he killed his father and his grandparents. Delphini Riddle is probably not even a decade older than our daughter, so how could she be related to Voldemort except by—Hermione grimaced. Merlin, that's disgusting. Voldemort had a child. He's basically a bog monster right now. Not to mention, I can't imagine there are very many women willing to carry Voldemort's child without being threatened, coerced, or just plain forced into it.

Suddenly, she felt a surge of sympathy for Delphini Riddle. To have that legacy… She hoped Delphini had not been raised by Voldemort. No one deserved that childhood.

I'm being ridiculous, she decided as she tiptoed to the bathroom to shower for the day. Still, that nagging voice in her head brought to mind the passage from her book on time travel: 'If one stumbles across any act of time magic, one should take the most extensive precautions possible, as time magic rarely leads to a desirable outcome.'

After a quick shower, Hermione slipped downstairs without waking her dorm mates, only to find a couple people had beat her to it. Neville sat on a sofa in front of the fire, a seventh-year with long brown hair, ice-blue eyes, and elfin features holding his hands between them as she sat close beside him. "Don't worry, Father…" the girl said. "You're happy, and she's even happier. You're right; I don't think the two of you would ever have given the other a single glance were it not for this, but that's alright, isn't it? So long as you love each other eventually."

"I just…" he gazed into the fire for a few seconds. "I don't want her to be trapped. I mean, I don't want to be trapped, either, but I'm not the one leaving my family, a-and my home."

"She's been expecting it her whole life. Well, not you specifically, but the marriage," the girl said. "If she ever had a problem with it, she's long since made her piece with that fact. Besides, you and Aunt Ginny are friends, so it's not as if she never sees her sister, is it? We visit all the time."

Neville sighed. "I… I have to speak with her, don't I? Do you think she'll yell at me?"

The girl snorted daintily. "Not likely. She might be a bit frosty. I'll introduce you at breakfast. You should freshen up. Wear something impressive. Lordly."

Neville grimaced. "I'm not a very lordly presence, Juliet. She'll just laugh at me."

"Sure you are," she encouraged. "Or, well, you'll get there. You just need a bit of confidence." She shooed him away, and he trudged upstairs to the boys' dorms.

Hermione gingerly approached the girl, who now gazed thoughtfully into the fire herself, hands clasped in her lap. "Hello," Hermione greeted. "Are you Neville's daughter?"

"You heard some of that, did you?" she asked, but she did not seem upset. "I'm Juliet Longbottom. It's lovely to see you, Lady Malfoy."

Hermione smiled, rather liking the title. "Not quite yet," she said for the sake of thoroughness. "But I don't mind the address, if that's what you're used to. It's a pleasure to meet you, as well."

Juliet smiled coyly. "And it's nothing to do with you enjoying taking Lord Malfoy's name."

Hermione worked to contain a blush. "You certainly tease me more than your father does."

"Not more than my mother does, though," Juliet smirked. "In the future, at least. By how shocked the Slytherin table was to hear Andy's last name, I imagine the two of you aren't so well acquainted yet."

"Oh, that's right," Hermione realized. "You and my daughter would be about the same year, right? Can you tell me about her?"

"She's a brilliant Head Girl," Juliet said After a moment's thought. "Cares about the students. She's quick as a whip, and she's always strictly polite, though she's a dab hand at insulting people without breaking etiquette. You saw how she handled Umbridge."

"I did," Hermione said with a fond huff. "She so resembled her father."

Juliet laughed softly. "I suppose this time can't be so foreign if you and Lord Malfoy are still so in love."

Hermione blushed again. "Ah… So, your mother. Daphne Greengrass, right?"

Juliet blinked, but otherwise did not seem terribly shocked that Hermione knew. "Yes," she admitted. "What gave it away?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, you mentioned you were at the Slytherin table, and I assumed it was to visit your mother. You call me Lady Malfoy, but you call Ginny Weasley 'Aunt Ginny', so unless Neville and Ginny become a lot closer in the future than they are now or Neville and I fall out, the most likely explanation is that the two of you are actually related somehow. Scorpius told us that Ginny marries Astoria Greengrass, so to be her niece, you would have to be Daphne's daughter. That would also explain the way you mentioned your mother visiting her sister often." She hesitated, then added, "Also, if I recall correctly, the Greengrass family has a history of arranging marriages. Draco told me once that he used to be betrothed to Astoria until he managed to convince his parents to terminate the engagement."

Juliet smiled and lightly clapped. "Thorough as ever, Lady Malfoy. Correct on all counts." She thought a moment, then said, "I'm not sure if I should ask you for help with this; you're so young right now. But you do know Father—at least at this age—better than I do, so… How should I convince him this isn't a bad thing? He just got the news yesterday, in a letter from my great-grandmother. He hasn't even spoken to Mother yet."

Hermione admitted, "I'm not sure how much of a help I'll be, but I can try. If I know Neville, he's more worried about what he's forcing Daphne into than what he's being forced into himself. He thinks she won't want to marry someone like him. Maybe show him that he's actually one of the best choices for her."

Juliet nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you," she said.

Hermione nodded. "My pleasure." She cast a quick tempus, noticed it was late enough that Draco might just be awake, and excused herself with a polite farewell to the older girl before she ducked out of the portrait hole. Once in the corridor, she retrieved a small quill from her pocket where she carried it alongside her DA Galleon. Running a hand over the white feather, she changed the tiny inscription on the stem to read, 5th floor—5 min—not urgent. The feather heated up in response, though not uncomfortably so. That done, she cast a Notice-Me-Not on herself and headed for a small, abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. She and Draco had used it on occasion, so he would not struggle to find it.

Taking a seat at one of the desks, she had only been waiting a few minutes before the door opened and Draco stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He scanned the room, eyebrows furrowing, until she released the charm on herself. Finally, he spotted her, and he rolled his eyes. "The whole school knows we're a couple, Hermione. You don't have to sneak about anymore."

Hermione blinked, not having realized that. "You're right," she admitted. "In all the confusion, I'd forgotten." She pressed her lips together. "Do you think Umbridge knows?"

Draco frowned, as well. "She'd have to be blind not to have realized. She met Andy, after all."

Hermione sighed, shoulders falling. "It's all falling apart, Draco. I'm happy—so happy—not to be hiding anymore, but I can't shake the feeling that something awful is waiting in the wings."

Draco walked further into the room, climbing up to sit cross-legged on the desk in front of her. It was entirely too undignified a position for a Malfoy, and she had to press her lips together to prevent a snicker from escaping. "I had nightmares all last night," he admitted. "Losing you, losing my parents. Dying to Voldemort before we ever have the chance to start a family." He shook his head. "Pansy and Vincent's daughter called me 'Lord Malfoy', Hermione. How could I have that title unless my father is dead?"

"He could just be in Azkaban," she pointed out, though she knew it would be little reassurance.

"Damn you, Granger," he growled without heat. "Just because something's accurate doesn't mean you have to bloody say it."

She winced. "Sorry." She tried to think of something more uplifting. "He could have passed the title down to you early."

He chuckled wryly. "Does my father seem like the type to step down early, especially in favor of a son who welcomed a mudblood into the family?" Draco winced at his words. "Er, sorry. I don't mean…"

"I understand," she said quietly. Truthfully, she hated hearing that word in his mouth, but as he was both upset and describing his father's response, she was far more inclined to let it go. "And you're right." She bit her lip, searching for something to say. "Juliet Longbottom called me 'Lady Malfoy'," she told him. At his resulting smile, she relaxed. "That doesn't mean that your mother is dead, too, does it?"

He shook his head. "No, she might still be alive. When the lord dies and the title is passed down to his child, if the child takes a spouse, the spouse inherits the title, as well, regardless of whether the lord's wife is still around. If Father dies and I marry you, Mother would be a Dowager Lady, though people would likely still refer to her as Lady Malfoy for brevity's sake."

Hermione sighed. "That's a relief." Thinking back over his words, she realized, "Wait, Parkinson and Crabbe have a child?" She crinkled her nose. "What an unpleasant couple that must be."

Draco chuckled. "I doubt it was a love match, that's for sure. Pansy threw a fit when Violet introduced herself. Insisted that she couldn't possibly be her child."

Hermione frowned. "Poor girl. How did Violet take it?"

"It was a right laugh, actually. Violet's a good two years older than us, so she took one look at Pansy's pouting face and told her to stop being such a brat," Draco said, voice infused with laughter. "It was brilliant. Plus, it got Pansy to stop sniping at me for marrying you."

"How did the rest of your house take the news about us?" Hermione asked worriedly. "You said yesterday they weren't pleased."

"After the initial shock, Pansy was the only one in our year to really give me any grief about it. To be honest, I doubt Vince and Greg even understood what it meant that Andy was our daughter. And as it turns out," he confided gleefully. "Daphne and Millicent ended up with blood-traitor Gryffindors of their own, and Blaise is brother-in-law to a Weasley. As is Daphne, actually. And Tracey's a halfblood herself—she doesn't care."

"What about Nott?" Hermione asked, remembering her discussion with her dorm mates. "His sister-in-law is a Gryffindor, but I'm not sure how fond he is of that fact."

Draco blinked. "Who did he marry, then? Theo never said, just went straight to bed. I knew he had a son in Slytherin, but I haven't talked to the kid yet. Well, I say 'kid'; the bloke's got at least a year on us."

"Padma Patil," she answered. "Lavender—apparently she marries Parvati—said his kids were rather cold to her."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You don't have to hate Gryffindors to dislike a vapid little airhead like Brown."

"She has her moments," Hermione admitted. "But Lavender's not entirely airheaded."

Draco snorted. "You're a goody-two-shoes; you're bound to say that. She's annoying, Granger."

Hermione shrugged, opting not to press the subject. "So, how is Zabini related to the Weasleys? Whom did he marry?"

"Gabrielle Delacour—the little girl who got kidnapped last year for the Second Task," Draco responded.

"Really?" Hermione said, blinking. "She has to be at least six years younger than him!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're thinking like a muggle, Granger. Witches and wizards live for ages. Six years is a drop in the cauldron. So long as they weren't married straight out of school, I don't see a problem with it."

"You're right," she said, pursing her lips. "Still, I suppose it's for the best she's not here. That would be a difficult thing to come to terms with at nine years old, having a future child with a teenager. Do they have a child?" she asked.

Nodding, Draco clarified, "Marinette Zabini. She seems to speak more French than English, but she's fluent enough. She's a little firstie in our house, and she trailed Blaise around, chattering at him in French, while he nodded along because he couldn't understand a word." He chuckled as he said it.

"Then how did you know all this about their family?" Hermione asked with a furrowed brow.

Draco smirked. "He might not speak French, but I do."

"Je ne savais pas ça," Hermione said in surprise. I didn't know that.

"Ma famille était française à l'origine," he explained. My family was from France originally. "N'avez-vous pas réalisé que je parlais le langage de l'amour?" He winked at her. Didn't you realize I spoke the language of love?

She laughed lightly. "Charmeur." He leaned back confidently in response. She switched back to English. "My family used to vacation in France, so I know the language, but I'm a little unpracticed." She fell quiet for a moment, then said, "That's quite sad, though, that he couldn't speak to his daughter." She could not imagine having her potential children so close and yet being separated by a language barrier.

Draco shook his head. "Don't feel too sorry for him. He found out eventually that she spoke Italian, as well, so they were able to converse in that."

"Good," she said, then sighed. "Things are better in Gryffindor Tower, but I'm still waiting for the fallout. Ron hasn't spoken to me yet."

Draco scowled, but she appreciated that he at least attempted to be sympathetic. "I'm sure Weasley'll come round. The two of you and Potter make a disgustingly resilient trio."

Hermione snorted. "We've never introduced you into the mix before, though."

Draco winced. "I'm not all too fond of that phrasing, Granger."

She thought about it, then swatted him lightly on the shoulder. "Oh, grow up."

"Never," he promised, pulling her forward and repositioning so that his legs were dangling down from the desk and she was standing between them, their bodies close together.

"You married me, Malfoy," she said quietly, savoring the fact. "I hadn't thought you would."

Draco chuckled at her words. "I'm not surprised," he murmured in her ear. "This was never a casual thing, Granger."

Hermione smiled, resting a hand on his chest. "Good." She began to lean forward, then stopped abruptly, eyes widening. "Merlin, can you imagine the wedding?" she blurted.

She felt the vibrations in his chest as Draco laughed heartily. "We'll make it work," he promised, then pulled her in for a kiss.

When they went down to breakfast an hour later, they did it together. Hermione was still blushing heavily and her hair was even wilder than usual, but they had mostly managed to tame their appearances so as to appear as though they had not been fooling around in an abandoned classroom. The school might have known that they were together, but, despite Draco's comment the night before, they'd both prefer that no one know the specifics. They split up to eat at their respective tables, with Draco squeezing her hand tightly in farewell before joining his fellows. When Hermione took her usual seat at Gryffindor table, relieved to see that Ron was absent, Harry was staring at her oddly. "What is it?" she asked her friend.

"You and him," he said, focusing on his breakfast once more. "It's still weird, seeing you together." Hermione tried to think of something reassuring to say, but Harry deflected before she could do. "Where were you this morning, 'Mione? Neville said you were awake at half six." Hermione glanced down the table at the boy in question, finding him sitting with his daughter, who seemed to be coaching him. His clothes were finer than usual, and he had to have done something with his hair.

"Where do you think, Harry?" Ginny asked, smirking. "She and Malfoy walked in together."

Harry's face contorted like he'd bit into a lemon. "Right, that's enough information, thanks."

Hermione shrugged lightly. "You did ask," she teased. She scanned the rest of the table, noticing it had been elongated to fit the future students. Not all of the students seated at the table were the ones that had been in Gryffindor Tower last night; it seemed that the new arrivals had opted to sit with relatives or friends rather than divide themselves by House. Closest to Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were Sirius; Mike Dursley; a rather leanly-muscled boy who nevertheless looked to be his brother; a girl about Ginny's age with white-blonde hair and brilliant emerald eyes; two strawberry-blonde firsties, one of whom had Ginny's hazel eyes while the other's were ice-blue; and a boy, also around Ginny's age, whose features were strongly reminiscent of a certain quarter-Veela. When her gaze fell on Sirius, the older boy gave her a cheeky wave, and she rolled her eyes but smiled fondly.

The boy who looked like Fleur coughed, and Ginny blinked. "Oh!" she said suddenly. "Right. 'Mione, this is Louis Delacour, the one your son was talking about last night. The one who gets teased all the time by Fred's daughters."

Louis sputtered, "I do n—Tante Ginny!"

Ginny giggled, then flashed a hand dramatically in the direction of the two firsties. "This is Hyacinth Greengrass," she said, and the one with blue eyes waved. "And Juniper Greengrass." The other one smiled at Hermione. "And they are my adorable daughters who finally came to see their mum." She glared playfully at her daughters.

Hyacinth, whom Hermione remembered was actually in second year, smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Mum."

"That's alright, darling, you found your way to me eventually," Ginny said indulgently. "Aren't they cute, Hermione?" she cooed. "Cinthie's a killer songwriter, and Junie plays Quidditch!" Louis coughed again, and Ginny groaned. "Oh, fine." Turning to the others, she gestured to each in turn. "You already know Sirius and Mike, and this is Mike's brother, Ian." Hermione smiled at them in greeting. Indicating the white-blonde girl, Ginny finished with a flourish, "And this lovely soul is Lily Helia Potter."

"You're Harry's daughter," Hermione said, leaning forward in interest.

"I am!" Lily said with a cheerful smile. "And you're my lovely Aunt Hermione, only tinier."

As one, Juniper, Hyacinth, and Sirius all groaned. When the older generation all turned to them for an explanation, Hyacinth pouted at Hermione. "She's always your favorite, Aunt 'Mione. Even when you don't know her."

Ginny laughed. "Don't worry, little blue. It's not you—she just loves Lily's father more than anyone in the whole wide world." She smirked teasingly at Hermione, who blushed but smiled at Harry, who returned a lopsided grin.

"Even Uncle Draco?" Juniper piped up.

Ginny snorted. "Definitely. Does Malfoy really let my kids call him that?"

Juniper smirked, and abruptly Hermione was reminded that this girl was a Slytherin. "No, but I do it anyway, just to make his face do this rubbery thing…" She sighed blissfully.

Sirius scowled, rearranging his eggs and beans to spell rude words. "I'm Dad's kid, too, and she doesn't fawn over me the same way she does Lily."

Hermione bit her lip guiltily. "Am I really so bad?"

"Never!" Lily chirped with a cheeky smile. "Don't change a thing, Aunt Hermione."

"They're exaggerating," Ian said, rolling his eyes. "You just get along with Lil better than the others. And Sirius, it's not Lady Malfoy's fault you're always breaking the rules and running headfirst into trouble."

Sirius glared balefully at his cousin.

Hermione giggled, looking sideways at Harry. "It's not because I love Harry, then; it sounds like Sirius is the most like his father!"

Harry rolled his eyes and shoved her shoulder lightly. "Ha-ha."

Hermione nodded at Hyacinth, "So, I know you're in Hufflepuff—" Juniper "—And you're in Slytherin—" Ian "—Sirius mentioned that you're in Hufflepuff—" Lily "—And that you're in Slytherin, and Mike and Sirius were in the common room last night, so they're Gryffindor. But what house are you in, Louis?"

"Hufflepuff," Louis answered promptly. "Hugo, Hyacinth, Ian, Molly, Romulus, and I spent the rest of the night talking with Aunt Hannah and with Daria's mum. Daniel joined in eventually, too, since neither of his parents are here at Hogwarts."

Ginny groaned. "Alright, time out. That sentence had loads of unfamiliar names."

Louis glanced at her confusedly. "Which ones?"

Hermione took over when Ginny looked fit to be tied. "Hugo is Ron's son, Romulus is Fred's, and Daniel is Oliver Wood's. We don't know about Molly or Daria, nor do we know who her mother is."

"Moll hasn't introduced herself yet? Where the hell's she been, then? It's not like her parents are here for her to pester instead," Sirius said, wincing as he accidentally rested his elbow in his porridge. Lily rolled her eyes and magicked the stain away. Sirius grinned at her in thanks.

"Molly is Louis's cousin," Lily explained. "Molly Weasley, obviously."

"Not entirely obvious!" Hyacinth pointed out. "Louis's name is Delacour, and his dad was a Weasley, too."

Lily blinked at the little girl. "Oh, I suppose you're right. Still, Moll's name is Weasley. Miss Audrey took Mr. Percy's name when they married."

Ginny snorted a laugh. "Wait, my brother's Bill Delacour in the future?"

Louis sighed. "No, Dad's name is still Weasley. Maman is the oldest daughter, so the Delacour name passes down through her to me, Victoire, and Dominique."

"Why do you call him Mr. Percy?" Harry asked Lily. "He seems like the kind of bloke to insist on a more proper address."

"Isn't it obvious, Daddy?" Lily said, tossing her hair primly. "If we called them Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, we'd never know who we were talking about!"

Harry chuckled at his daughter. "Fair point."

"As for Moll," Lily said, turning to Sirius. "She, Alya, and Ashley are probably pestering Daniel like they always are."

"Well, what about her sister, then?" Sirius asked. "If they'd met her, she would have told them about Moll."

"Lucy's been sitting with Aunt Luna, of course," Hyacinth said. "Along with Lorcan and Lysander."

Sirius looked as though he could slap himself. "Right—she adores Mum. I suppose she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to meet her while she's young. Plus, she's used to sitting at Ravenclaw."

"Are they avoiding me? Lorcan and Lysander, I mean." Harry asked with trepidation.

"Not at all," Lily reassured. "They just… well, you know Mum. They're a little like her. They do things, and there's not always a clear reason why. But we'll drag them and Mum outside after breakfast and we can all go for a walk on the grounds together as a family," she promised. Harry smiled gratefully at his daughter, and suddenly Hermione could see why Lily was supposedly her favorite.

"Yeah, then we can go for a fly, and I'll teach you some of my Quidditch tricks," Sirius smirked.

Harry glared at him, affronted. "I'm plenty good at Quidditch, thanks."

Sirius's smirk grew. "You've been playing since you were, what, eleven? I've got at least nine years of practice on you."

"And the benefit of being taught by a more practiced version of you," Hermione pointed out. "It would be almost impossible for him to know less than you at this stage."

Harry scowled at her. "Traitor."

Hermione smiled innocently, and Lily giggled. "So who is Daria, then?" Hermione asked after a few seconds.

Ian answered idly, "Daria Bones. She's a Slytherin in my year. Her dad's a weird bloke named Terry Boot. Don't know who her mum is, though."

Lily sighed. "Her mum's Susan Bones—the Auror who oversaw the ritual? How could you have forgotten that?" she demanded.

Ian rolled his eyes. "I have better things to do than memorize the bloodlines of everyone at Hogwarts. I'm not some poncey pureblood."

"I'm both gay and a pureblood, Ian," Louis said, his voice strained. "Can you please watch your mouth?"

"That's not what I meant, mate. I don't have a problem with your sexuality or your blood status," Ian said, affronted.

"It may not have been what you meant, but it's definitely what you said!" Hyacinth huffed. "Junie and I are pureblood, too, and our mothers are both! So hush!"

Ian groaned. "Fine, fine. Sorry, girls. Sorry, Louis. Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

Ginny just looked amused. "Apology accepted."

"Speaking of Hyacinth's mother," Hermione said to Ginny. "Have you spoken to Astoria yet?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. I should probably do that, shouldn't I?" She stood abruptly, abandoning her plate. "Want to come along? You can visit your little boyfriend while we're at it."

Suspecting that this was Ginny's way of requesting a little emotional support, Hermione quickly agreed, and she stood up, as well, patting Harry on the shoulder. "It was nice meeting the lot of you," she said to the future children.

"Wait, Mum!" Hyacinth blurted. "We're coming with!"

"We can't pass up seeing Mother again," Juniper added. The two girls followed Hermione and Ginny over to the Slytherin table. On their way, Hermione idly noticed Ron and Rose entering the Great Hall, seemingly arguing.

"Look what the kneazle dragged in," Draco said with a smirk as they neared the Slytherins. "Miss me already, Granger?"

Hermione snorted, but kissed him lightly on the cheek. "If I'd known it would further inflate your ego, I'd have stayed at Gryffindor table."

Parkinson made a disgusted noise. "Draco, tell your pet mudblood she's not welcome here."

"I make it a point not to lie to my girlfriend," Draco said with a glare. "She will be welcome here, or I will make sure you regret ever having met me, Pansy. Is that clear?"

Pansy scoffed, but nodded reluctantly. "Whatever," she said, and turned away.

"Granger, Weasley," Blaise Zabini greeted coolly. Rather than taking offense, Hermione got the feeling that Zabini just acted that way to most people. "What brings you here?" Seated next to him was the little girl Hermione recognized as having been the first to speak when they first materialized last night. Hermione assumed this was Marinette Zabini.

"Mum wants to meet Mother!" Hyacinth spoke up, jumping a little in excitement.

There was a delicate laugh from a blonde-haired girl with ice-blue eyes who bore a distinct resemblance to Daphne Greengrass, only with a more petite, less willowy frame. "She already knows me, little one. We're in the same year."

"Not as the future mother of my children, though," Ginny said sassily, taking a seat next to the girl who must be Astoria. "Actually," she said, turning to her daughters curiously. "Which of us carried the two of you, anyway?"

"Mother gave birth to me, and you carried Cinthie," Juniper replied, searching for a seat but noticing there was no room.

"Here," Draco said, catching the glance and vacating his place on the bench. "You two take this seat. I'll go prop Granger up so she doesn't fall straight to the floor when she inevitably swoons at my undeniable charm."

Hermione laughed at his audacity. "You are even more delusional than usual today," she said.

"Am I?" he murmured, sending her a heated look that, damn him, did make her feel a little weak in the knees.

"Save it for a storage cupboard or something, you two," a rather plump girl with straight black hair instructed, grimacing. Millicent Bulstrode, Hermione recalled, wincing at the memory of the Polyjuice Potion mishap in second year. "Bloody hell, can this whole affair of yours go back to being a secret?"

"I caught you out after hours with Cormac bloody McLaggen a few weeks ago, Bulstrode," Draco snapped. "I don't think Granger and I could ever be more disgusting than that."

"Well, you're right about that," Millicent snorted loudly. "I still can't believe I apparently have his child. He's got all the charm of the giant squid."

"And just as many tentacles," Hermione commented, remembering some of the times she had met him in passing.

Millicent laughed. "Good one, Granger. Cordelia's nice for a 'claw, though, and she hates her sperm donor, too, so that's a relief."

Huh. Hermione supposed it was too much to expect that every one of them would have picture-perfect futures, but she had been sort of lulled into thinking that way before hearing that Millicent ended up impregnated by a deadbeat and left to raise the child alone.

Juniper, having joined her sister in taking Draco's vacated seat, piped up, "Delia's really smart, too. Top of our year."

Millicent grinned. "Guess she's going places, huh?"

"Isn't it weird that almost none of our kids end up in the houses we were in, though?" Ginny asked. "I mean, my parents were Gryffindors, and every single one of my brothers was in Gryffindor, too, but we raised…" She quickly counted them up. "Five Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws, three Slytherins, and only three Gryffindors—plus whatever Victoire was, I suppose."

"Vic was a Ravenclaw," Juniper said promptly.

Astoria raised an impressed eyebrow. "That was some quick maths, Ginevra."

Ginny smiled flirtatiously. "I'm a woman of many talents."

Draco's face contorted in disgust. "The fourteen-year old Weasley is flirting. Granger, please obliviate me."

Hermione laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "It's alright, Malfoy. Just try not to think about it."

"I've noticed the same," Blaise commented. "The majority of the children I've seen so far, my little passerotta aside," he said with a fond, though certainly somewhat sardonic, glance at Marinette. "Are in different houses than their parents."

"Maybe Lavender's right," Hermione said, biting her lip. "Maybe in the future, House loyalties don't mean quite so much."

"Brown said that?" Draco said disbelievingly. "That's shockingly perceptive of her."

"She has her moments," Hermione insisted.

Having been unaware of her approach, Hermione had to bite back a startled yelp when Daphne Greengrass suddenly appeared in her peripheral vision, searching for a seat at the table. Fortunately for the girl, someone further along left the table, and Daphne was able to squeeze in between her sister and Pansy Parkinson.

Astoria cleared her throat daintily and indicated her sister. "Ginevra, this is my sister, Daphne. Daphne, this is Ginny Weasley."

"So you're the one who marries my sister," Daphne said coldly.

"Yeah," Ginny said, smirking. "And if I overheard Neville's panicking correctly, you're the one who snags one of my mates."

"'Panicking?'" Daphne repeated, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Does he not want to marry me?" Beside her, Astoria frowned worriedly.

"It's not that," Hermione interrupted quickly. "He's just worried that you're being forced into something you don't want."

Daphne sighed as though exasperated, but Hermione suspected that was relief in her eyes. "Typical Gryffindor chivalry," Daphne commented. "I suppose that's why our daughter said Longbottom might be nervous but not to worry."

"I've met Juliet," Hermione said, smiling. "I think both of you should be proud of her."

Daphne smiled slightly. "Thank you."

As though summoned by their conversation—though it was far more likely that they had simply noticed Daphne enter the Great Hall—Juliet crossed over from Gryffindor table, Neville trailing behind her. Hermione smiled at the brave expression on his face. "Mother," Juliet greeted Daphne. "I'm sure you know Father already, but I'd like to introduce the two of you again. Neville Longbottom, this is my mother, Daphne Greengrass. Mother, this is Neville Longbottom."

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Longbottom," Daphne said coolly.

"The pleasure's mine, Miss Greengrass," Neville said, nervously, though his voice managed to be smooth.

"We have a great deal to discuss," Juliet said. "Would you like us to wait until you're finished eating? We could also pack some breakfast up and sit on the grounds, if you wouldn't mind."

Daphne smiled at her daughter. "That sounds lovely."

Juliet retrieved a cloth from her robes, waved her wand, and a variety of foods from the table wrapped themselves snugly up inside. "Shall we go, then?"

Daphne nodded, kissed her sister on the cheek, and followed the two of them out of the Great Hall. There was a few seconds' silence, then Ginny blurted to Astoria, "So do you think your sister approves of me? Because I couldn't get a read on her at all."

Astoria giggled. "She's withholding judgment, I think. But it's nice that you're worried. Though, really, your family is far more intimidating."

Ginny grinned. "Nah. If any of my brothers gives you trouble, just hex them or send them to me, and I'll Bat Bogey them until they don't have a problem anymore."

"Hermione," a soft voice said from over her shoulder. It garnered a few strange looks from the other students, but they continued their conversation unabated.

Hermione blinked, startled, then turned around to find Luna's face far too close to hers. "Yes, Luna?"

"Won't you come with us?" Luna said, tilting her head. Hermione waited for her to elaborate, but Luna said nothing else.

"Where exactly do you want me to go, Luna?" she asked.

"Wherever you want, of course," Luna said. "We should all be free to follow our hearts, don't you think?"

"I meant presently," Hermione said, searching for patience. "Where are you inviting me?"

"Oh," Luna said, as though Hermione was the one who should have been clearer. "To walk with us, of course. My future children have organized a lovely outing with Harry and me."

"I was under the impression that it was supposed to be a family thing, Luna. Wouldn't I be intruding?" she asked.

"You are family, silly," Luna said matter-of-factly. "Harry considers you a sister. Don't you know that?" she asked sadly.

Hermione smiled, touched despite herself. "I—Well—If you don't mind, then, I would love to join you, Luna."

Luna nodded, smiling widely, and offered her hand. "Then we should go. We'll have to watch out for dabberblimps if we walk by the lake, though. It's the aquatic season for them."

Hermione kissed Draco on the cheek quickly in farewell, then took Luna's hand. Together, they walked towards the Gryffindor table. Knowing she would regret it, Hermione asked, "What exactly is a dabberblimp?"

"Oh, they're extraordinarily dangerous creatures," Luna said seriously. "They kill dozens of merpeople every year. Thankfully, witches and wizards are rarely affected by their miasma because we don't tend to swim in frigid lakes during the cold season."

Hermione bit back her disbelieving response. "That's very interesting, Luna."

Luna shot her a knowing look. "You don't believe me. But that's okay. Just don't go swimming, alright?"

Hermione smiled. "That, I can promise."

Luna smiled, humming tunelessly under her breath.

"So you're coming, too, Aunt Hermione?" Lily asked when they approached. "I'm glad."

"Of course you are," Sirius groused. "Suck-up." Lily glared at him.

"Settle down, you two," Harry groaned, sounding like an actual father, then smiled at Hermione. "Lily and Luna are right, though. This wouldn't be a family thing without you there."

Hermione smiled, then broke away from Luna to hug Harry tightly, grinning when he choked on her hair. "Oh, Harry."

Harry hugged her awkwardly in return, then backed away, looking nervously at Luna. "Shall we go, then?"

A pair of twins, glassy-eyed as Luna and mostly identical save for their hair—one of them had Harry's messy black hair and the other had white-blond hair cropped short—walked over to take Luna's hands, one on either side. She swung their hands cheerfully, and smiled at Harry. "That would be lovely, Harry."

Harry grinned. "Alright then." He led the way out of the Great Hall, and Luna skipped cheerfully behind, the twins attempting to keep up with her stride. Lily giggled at the sight they made, and Hermione found herself stifling a laugh herself.

"Come on, then," Sirius grumbled good-naturedly, gesturing Lily and Hermione forward. "Might as well get this over with. Blimey, it's like babysitting your parents."

"It's literally babysitting our parents," Lily grinned. "They're so young."

"What are they like, in the future?" Hermione asked curiously as they exited the castle, shivering in the chilly air. She should have worn a jacket.

Sirius idly cast warming charms over the three of them. Hermione smiled at him gratefully. "Basically just like this." He gestured ahead to where Harry was nervously running a hand through his hair, messing it up as he spoke to Luna. Hermione laughed softly as she remembered that Sirius—Sirius Black, that is—had mentioned Harry's father doing the same whenever he was around Lily.

"Only with more cuddling and kissing," Lily crinkled her nose.

"They both seem like cuddlers," Hermione noted.

Sirius snorted. "You and Uncle Draco emphatically don't, but you're always curled up together."

Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "I've always been a little touchy-feely. I know it annoys the boys sometimes that I hug them at the drop of a hat."

Lily beamed. "I don't mind you hugging me, Aunt Hermione!" she said, embracing her enthusiastically.

Hermione laughed at the fourth-year, wrapping her arms around her. "That's good to know, Lily."

Sirius groaned again, picking up speed. "If I wanted to be disgusted, I would just watch Dad ineptly flirting with Mama. In fact, I think I will." With that, he caught up to his parents, leaving Lily and Hermione behind.

"Should we join them?" Hermione asked her.

Lily nodded, pulling her forward to walk closer to the main group.

"—and Daddy said that so long as you're careful not to get me pregnant now, that he'll not have a problem with you, since I'm so happy with it," Luna was saying.

Hermione grimaced, and Harry chuckled nervously. "That's, er, good to know, Luna."

"Do you think Stubby Boardman will like me?" she asked.

"Who is Stubby Boardman?" Hermione interjected, bewildered.

"That's who you think Sirius Black is, right?" Harry asked, once again demonstrating that he listened to Luna far more than Hermione did. "Why would it matter if he likes you?" he asked with trepidation.

"Because he's your godfather, of course," the blonde answered mildly.

"How—How do you know that?" Harry gasped, glancing around as though someone might be spying.

"You were surrounded by wrackspurts the year he escaped from Tahiti," she hummed, then said lightly, "Also, you named our son after him."

Lily giggled, and Harry groaned.

Hermione commented truthfully, "Honestly, Luna? I think he'd absolutely adore you."

Harry groaned again. "He would, wouldn't he?"

Luna hummed happily. "That's lovely to hear. I'd hate to make a bad impression on your family."

"So which of your brothers is Lorcan and which is Lysander?" Hermione asked Lily in an undertone.

"Oh, that's right. You haven't been introduced. Lor! San!" Lily clapped to get their attention.

The fraternal twins detached themselves from their mother and trotted back to face Lily and Hermione. "Yes, Lil?" the one with black hair asked.

"Say hello to Aunt Hermione! This is Lorcan Albus," she said, gesturing to the twin with white-blond hair. "And this is Lysander Severus." This time, she gestured to the one with black hair.

"It's lovely to meet you, boys," Hermione said, smiling at them.

"We've met already," Lorcan said, looking at his brother.

"She wouldn't remember, though," Lysander pointed out.

"We traveled through time and memory," Lorcan noted.

"Hello, Aunt Hermione," Lysander said, his head snapping to the side to meet Hermione's eyes.

"Yes, hello," Lorcan added.

"They're a little weird," Lily said as explanation. "And they don't really mind being weird. But they're family."

Sirius chimed in as Lorcan and Lysander wandered off to examine an oddly-shaped rock, "You're not so normal yourself, Lil."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah."