"Hermione? Hermione Granger?"

It had been a long time since Hermione had gone by her maiden name, and the person asking after her seemed to realize this even as she looked up from her shopping list. "Oh, but of course, it's not Granger anymore, is it? You've been Weasley for… what, fifteen years now? I should know; I clipped out the article in the Prophet when it was announced. My ex-roommate and my ex-…."

"Hello, Lavender," Hermione said quietly, a small, vaguely uneasy smile on her face. It had been ages since she'd last seen the other witch – easily over twenty years, since Rosie was thirteen now and had been born eight years after the Second Wizarding War. While Hermione wasn't a particularly optimistic person by nature, she was certainly realistic enough to believe that people can change, especially after two decades. "It's nice to see you."

"… it's good to see you too, Hermione."

They stood in silence, staring at one another. Hermione had the distinct impression that she was being carefully scrutinized, and she wondered if Lavender had grown into one of those women who thrived on running across former classmates and trying to figure out which one of them looked younger than the other. If that was the case, Lavender wouldn't have to look too hard; Hermione's stressful job and Ron's dangerous job and their mutual stressful (and occasionally dangerous) job as parents had seen to it that she looked every bit of her forty years.

When it seemed as though Lavender had decided on that to her satisfaction, Hermione held up the list in her hand. "I see a Hogwarts letter in your hand, so I'm taking it that you're no longer Brown?"

Lavender smiled. "Hardly. Finnigan."

It took Hermione a few moments to figure out why that name sounded so familiar. "As in Seamus Finnigan?" When Lavender nodded, Hermione exclaimed, "How nice! How long have you two been married?"

"Long enough for this to be Dean's last year," Lavender replied. Seeing the look of confusion on Hermione's face, she explained, "Dean's our son. And no, it's nothing to do with Dean Thomas. We haven't seen him since he moved to the States with that Muggle girl he met shortly after graduation. She plays some sport involving throwing a ball into a basket or some such thing."

"Basketball?"

"Is it really? I thought I was just blanking out on the name. How terribly unimaginative."

Hermione chuckled a little before asking, "Is Dean your eldest, then?"

"Eldest and only," Lavender answered. "We decided to see how the first one went; good thing, too, because I had to quit my job just to watch after him, and we've been through hell and back raising the little troublemaker. We keep saying that it's a good thing we aren't Weasleys-… oh."

A rueful smile appeared on Hermione's face at the sight of Lavender's embarrassed flush, but she shook her head dismissively. "I've only two," she informed her. "Rose is starting up her third year, and Hugo is excited to be starting his first. Ron keeps pressing me for more, but I've told him that two is more than enough; I just didn't want Rose being an only child."

Lavender made a sound of agreement and rolled her eyes. "Good thinking. From what I've seen with Dean, no matter what the parents try to do to prevent it, an only child will always grow up to be something of a spoiled brat."

Hermione opened her mouth to proclaim that she was an only child, and so was Harry, but she thought better of it. This conversation was already getting long enough as it was, and she was never one for idle chit-chat anyway. Unfortunately, just as she was about to politely excuse herself, Lavender saw something behind her that caught her eye. "And here he comes; Dean Patrick Finnigan, come over here and say hello to somebody famous!"

It was Hermione's turn to flush; she hated the way the wizarding community regarded her and her husband and their best friend as some sort of heroes. They'd only done what was necessary to keep Voldemort from destroying their way of life, and one could even claim Hermione had acted in a bid of self-preservation; of the three, she had the most to lose, as she was a Muggle-born. Being called "famous" made her feel horribly self-conscious, especially when the Muggle world saw her as simply an anonymous middle-aged woman, and now she knew what Harry had gone through while in Hogwarts.

She blinked when she caught sight of a tall, athletic boy with Seamus' face and Lavender's curly hair. While she was sure that he was probably considered good-looking, the eerie combination of features threw Hermione a bit, and she wondered if her own children looked quite so odd to any of her former classmates.

"Oh hey, it's Mrs. Weasley," Dean mumbled, slouching a little as he dug his hands in his pockets. "'ello, ma'am. I know your niece Lucy. She's hell on the pitch."

"Watch your language, Dean," Lavender scolded. To Hermione, she explained, "Dean's captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team."

"Ravenclaw?" Hermione blurted out before she could help herself. "Your son is in Ravenclaw?"

Pretending she wasn't as hurt as she was, Lavender pouted slightly and declared, "My grades in Divination were the highest of anyone in our class. Dean dropped out of Divination in his third year, but that's because he decided to focus on the subjects he was actually aces in."

Though Dean's carefree sort of attitude didn't seem to match up with the impression Hermione had of most Ravenclaws, his refusal to take Divination did bring him up in her estimation. "Lucy," she murmured. "Isn't that… that's Percy's daughter! I didn't know she played Quidditch!"

Dean furrowed his brow, then grinned as he remembered, "Oh, that's right, she made a big to-do, telling us not to let on to her parents when she made the team. She said her dad would likely disown her if he knew she was wasting valuable study time playing some silly game."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "That sounds like Percy, all right."

"Hermione, I've an idea," Lavender said suddenly. "Dean and I usually go over to Florence Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour after we get his books – her butterscotch is passable, but the rest of the menu doesn't quite match up to her father's, may he rest in peace. But it's a sort of tradition between us, and Dean was just claiming he's outgrown it, so why don't you and yours come over with us?" Before Hermione had the chance to answer, Lavender turned to Dean again. "Rose Weasley, do you know her? She's a… fourth year, did you say, Hermione? Is she in Ravenclaw? It just makes sense for Hermione Granger-Weasley's oldest to be in Ravenclaw. I'm still surprised you were a Gryffindor."

Finally managing to get a word in when Lavender took a moment to breathe, Hermione remarked, "Actually, Rose is a Gryffindor as well. We're thinking Hugo might be a Ravenclaw, though he can take after his father when it comes to being motivated to get his chores done."

"Shucks," Dean broke in, obviously making a conscious effort not to swear in front of his mother. "Motivation doesn't mean anything when it comes to wit. You either have it or you don't. As for this Rose, though, I think she sounds familiar…."

At that moment, Hermione heard a cough behind her that sounded strangely timid. Turning to look, she smiled as she saw her daughter with an armful of books, her other arm draped around her little brother's shoulders. "There you are," Hermione said. "I want you to meet an old… a…." Roommate? Rival? "… friend of mine. Come along now."

"Mother," Rose gasped quietly, stepping in close behind Hermione. "Do you have any idea who that is?"

"Hullo there, Rosie!" Dean remarked, grinning as his eyes glinted with recognition. "I knew that name sounded familiar! I tutored you in Ancient Runes a couple of semesters ago, didn't I?"

"Ancient Runes?" Hermione asked, looking at her daughter skeptically. As far as she knew, Rose had perfect marks in everything but History of Magic, and that was because she constantly fell asleep in Professor Binns' class. The wide-eyed look in Rose's eyes and the imperceptible shake of her head, though, told her that it was best not to say such a thing.

"Sorry, Mum," Rose nearly squeaked. "I, er,… I fell behind a bit on my studies. That was when Al got that fever, you know, and I was always going back and forth between his bed and Madam Pomfrey's-" She gave Hugo a glare as he coughed something that sounded suspiciously like, 'bollocks.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow down at her youngest before remarking, "Well, you can get as caught up on any subject you need, Rose, as Dean's mother has just invited us all to have ice cream with them."

"All right!" Hugo exclaimed enthusiastically. "Can I have a sundae, mum, please?"

"You already know my answer, Hugo."

Groaning, Hugo did a remarkably good imitation of his mother's know-it-all voice as he scolded, "'Nothing more than a scoop, Hugo, or else Gran and Papa Granger will have my head. They're dentists, you know, and they won't have their grandchildren eating too much sugar.'"

"That's enough, Hugo."

"No wait, I didn't get to the part where the sweets will eat away at my enamel and make me look all snaggle-toothed," Hugo insisted. He took a deep breath to begin what promised to be a long-winded spiel before Rose reached out and covered his mouth.

Though Dean laughed, Lavender tilted her head at Hermione. "What's a dentist?"

Despite everything she'd gone through in her life, Hermione never stopped being surprised.

She was surprised as she sat in the next table over from Rose, watching her awkwardly talk with her former rival's son. She was surprised to realize that her daughter would pretend to be doing poorly in a subject just to be closer to a boy, and she was absolutely shocked when she realized that her barely-teenaged daughter was mostly a grown woman, save for the requisite discomfort she seemed to have around boys she fancied.

Good lord, her daughter was fancying boys. Ron was going to have a fit.

"I never forgot what you did, you know."

Hermione turned back to look at Lavender, who was absently mixing the chocolate syrup into her mostly-eaten butterscotch ice cream. Confused, Hermione wondered if this was the part where Lavender would accuse her of stealing Ron away from her, if she'd claim that Dean could have had a shock of lovely red hair if only Hermione hadn't gotten in the way. She shifted uncomfortably, pushing away her bowl of vanilla ice cream as she asked, "And what was it that I did?"

"Come on, Hermione," Lavender murmured, looking up at her with wide, serious eyes. Hermione was fairly certain that the only time Lavender had ever looked like that was when she was listening to one of Trelawney's predictions, and so she only felt more out of sorts until she explained, "You saved my life. That isn't something a girl just forgets."

Hermione said nothing for a long time, wondering what on earth Lavender was talking about. She was sure that the only common link they had aside from being roommates was Ron, and she didn't know what she thought about Lavender claiming that breaking up her and Ron somehow saved her life.

Seeing that Hermione didn't seem to be following her, Lavender looked towards the next table, as though to make sure the children weren't watching. Looking back to Hermione, she brought her fingers up and began to undo the topmost buttons of her blouse. Hermione's eyes instinctively widened, and she glanced around, hissing, "What are you doing?"

Initially perplexed by Hermione's reaction, Lavender smirked and murmured, "It's not what you think. I'm quite happy with Seamus, thank you." With three buttons cleared, she pulled at the collar of her blouse a little, and Hermione saw what she was showing her. Just below her collarbone was a rather ugly white scar, and she suddenly knew what Lavender was referring to.

"The Battle of Hogwarts," Lavender breathed, fingers brushing against the marred skin. "I fell… Greyback was on me. I was pretty sure that it was all over, and what's worse, that I wouldn't even go quickly. He'd make it slow and messy and painful, and-…." Looking down as she choked a bit, she delicately dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. "And then you saved me."

Hermione suddenly remembered that instance as clearly as she remembered yesterday. People were dying all around her, and it was all just so much carnage, and then suddenly she saw a familiar face. It was Greyback's, and she'd screamed, and she hadn't even realized who she'd been saving with her spell until she spared a moment to glance down at Lavender's terrified face. It had only been a reflex to her. To Lavender, it had meant the world.

"I've grown up a lot since then," Lavender continued, buttoning her blouse up again. "I-… I wanted to tell you, maybe to write you or see if I could find you on Platform 9 ¾ one day, since I knew you and Ron must have eventually had children. But… but then a little voice kept telling me, 'Come on, Lav, do you honestly think she'd remember? She's famous now, so you can't just write her, and besides, who knows how many other lives she's saved? You're just one person.' And it's true. I am one person. But Seamus and I… we're so happy together. And Dean's in the running to be Head Boy – my son, potentially Head Boy! Can you imagine? And sometimes I see your name in the Prophet, or I find myself thinking of you, and I realize that none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for you. You didn't have to save me, not after what happened between Ron and I, but you did. So… so this is just my long and very belated way of saying thank you. It may not be the grandest life anyone could have hoped for, but it's better than none at all."

As Lavender spoke, Hermione pressed her lips together hard. Some of what Lavender said was very much true; she hadn't remembered saving her life, and she'd likely saved the lives of countless people with all of her efforts to unlock the mystery of the Deathly Hallows, along with other things she and Ron and Harry had done over the years. But she was wrong about one thing.

"You know, you are perfectly welcome to write me, if you'd like," she breathed, her voice managing not to sound too rough with emotion. "I don't know where you get off thinking I'm some sort of celebrity that doesn't sort through fan mail or some such nonsense, but I assure you, that's entirely incorrect. "

Lavender looked up at her, first looking wholly shocked, and then grinning. "Really? You won't think I'm just some daft school chum that you have to reply to?"

Smiling a little awkwardly, Hermione gently cracked, "Well, I don't promise not to think you're daft, but I certainly won't reply until I've the time and the patience to send out a well-thought out response, and I wouldn't expect you to do anything different in regards to any letter I send you."

With a laugh, Lavender grabbed for Hermione's hand and squeezed it. "That's wonderful! Here, let me write you my address right now, and you can send me a little update on how Ron's doing. Seamus was horribly jealous when Ron made Auror, you know, so I'm sure Ron would love to gloat just a bit. Maybe you can come over sometime, once the kids are in school?"

"I'll discuss it with him," Hermione promised, though she didn't know how keen Ron would be on the prospect of having tea with his wife, his ex-girlfriend, and her husband. Then again, his blush might just be reason enough to bring it up.

With Lavender's address written on a napkin, Hermione called her children over, absently wiping Hugo's mouth free of ice cream with a tissue as she and Lavender wrapped up their conversation. Neither witch could quite help notice the way Rose seemed to perpetually blush as Dean continued to talk to her, nor could Hermione ignore his self-satisfied grin. If he was only leading her daughter on… well, Ron would love to take care of that situation, and she wouldn't be too far behind.

"Mum," Rose asked as they were walking towards the Leaky Cauldron on their way home. "Did you really live with Dean Finnigan's mum? I didn't know that. Does Dad know her?" Hermione hesitated, suddenly wondering if she would have made that instinctive move to save Lavender all those years ago if not for the fact that Ron had just lost his brother, and she didn't want him losing his first girlfriend on the same night. There'd been enough loss that night… but between kissing Ron and somehow gaining Lavender Brown's respect, there'd been just as much gain as well.

"All too well, Rose," Hermione sighed, putting an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "All too well."