Author's Notes: First of all, anyone who clicked on this expecting Draco/Hermione...it's not. You're totally free to stick around and read anyway, of course.

Also, there seems to be some confusion about Draco's wife's name. On the hand-made family tree J.K. Rowling released it's spelled "Asteria;" a later interview spells it "Astoria," which is what most people seem to follow. I opted for the former, however, since it's directly from J.K.'s own pen and because it's mythological and thus seems a better fit for an aristocratic Pureblood. (The name "Daphne" is also mythological, for what it's worth.)

Hope you enjoy!

Hermione checked the address on her clipboard again and pursed her lips, looking up at the home of Draco Malfoy and his family.

She was secretly glad that it wasn't Malfoy Manor; she did not want to admit it, but part of her dreaded the thought of ever seeing that place again. This house was just as stately but not as large, and probably at least a few centuries younger. The property was surrounded by tall, flowery hedges, and the lawn itself was immaculately groomed with shady trees scattered about. The porch was bright white and the front door was made of a dark, handsome wood with a phoenix-head doorknocker.

Hermione drew herself up and knocked three times. She paused for a moment as she heard someone coming.

At breakfast Ron had suggested punching Draco Malfoy as soon as he opened the door. She had scolded him then, but somehow could not help but smirk at the thought now.

That would not be professional, however. And despite her history with the Malfoys, she was a professional, here on official business.

In any event it was not Draco Malfoy who opened the door, but a pretty young woman with brown hair and pale blue eyes. Despite it being the middle of the day she was wearing dress robes in her own home, with alternating shades of blue and green. "Hello?" she said, smiling, and Hermione quickly took a breath and tried to reorient herself, reciting her script with practiced ease.

"Good morning. My name is Hermione Weasley, from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures' House-Elf Services Office. Are you Asteria Malfoy?"

"I am." She frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"I hope not. Are you familiar with the recent revisions made to the Guidelines for House-Elf Welfare?"

"I think I read something about that in the Daily Prophet." Asteria seemed a touch uncomfortable now, though only a touch.

"Well, regulations now stipulate that all households with elfish servants must undergo a routine examination at least once per year, to make sure that working standards are up to the current guidelines." She gave what she hoped was a pleasant smile. "May I come in?"

Asteria Malfoy's smile was also practiced and probably looked better. "Of course," she said, opening the door wider. "Make yourself at home, Ms.—Weasley, was it?"

"Yes," Hermione said, stepping into the entrance hall. It was quite as lovely as the outside, with a long row of windows that let in plenty of light. Everything was made of the same dark, polished wood as the door, and the floor was covered by a beautiful carpet.

Asteria closed the door, frowning to herself. "Weasley. That name seems familiar, for some reason."

Hermione stiffened slightly; she was expecting some sort of trouble, but wanted this evaluation to go as smoothly as possible. "That's entirely possible. My husband comes from a very large family."

"Yes, but I'm just trying to place...oh." A bit of color drained from Asteria's cheeks. "Do you happen to know an Auror named Weasley?"

Merlin's pants. Hermione smiled mechanically. "That would be my husband."

"That's it, then." Asteria gave a nervous, tittering laugh. "A few months back, he came to do a—very routine check on our home. Nothing serious, of course."

"Of course." Ron had spent weeks planning that raid and had gone to work that day practically singing to himself, much to Hermione's annoyance. Still, he had been a bit disappointed with the results—a collection of cursed daggers that, while illegal, had proven to have not been used for more than a century. They were confiscated and the Malfoys were charged a bit of gold, but to Ron's chagrin Draco had not been thrown in Azkaban.

"I'm sorry if the place seems a bit messy," Asteria said, clearly trying to break the tension. "Neither Tilly nor I have really had a chance to clean much today."

The room, of course, was absolutely spotless, to the point where Hermione almost thought Asteria was making fun of her. Not that Hermione was jealous, of course. She liked her and Ron's flat, with the toy brooms that they were always tripping over and the murals of dragons that Hugo had lovingly scribbled on the walls.

"Can I get you anything? Some elf-made wine? Oh!" Asteria chuckled. "No, I guess I shouldn't offer you that while you're working. Some tea or gillywater, perhaps?"

"Some tea would be nice, thank you. I need to ask you a few questions before I see" she checked her clipboard again "Tilly, I believe?"

"That's right," Asteria said, leading the way into a large and (again) perfectly beautiful kitchen, filled with more fancy furniture and with a huge fireplace against once wall. She waved her wand so that the tea started to make itself at the counter. "Please, sit down."

Hermione gingerly took her seat at a high table; she was a bit pleased that her chair, while exquisite, was also quite uncomfortable. It was nice to know that not everything about this house was perfect. "I admit I don't know much about all these new regulations," Asteria said as she added the tea leaves. "I hope it's not anything too stringent?"

Hermione resisted the urge to scowl. "There haven't actually been that many changes. Most of the measures are rules that the Ministry have just not enforced in the past."

"That's a relief, then. We should do fine as long as the Ministry doesn't start enforcing the whole S.P.H.E.W. manifesto," Asteria said, laughing airly.

Hermione was no longer able to avoid scowling as Asteria brought the tea to the table. "I'm the founder of the S.P.H.E.W., actually."

If remembering Ron's raid had taken a little of Asteria's color, this seemed to turn her into a ghost. "Oh," she said simply, easing into her seat. "Well, I—ahem. Obviously, making things better for our fellow magical creatures is, um, very important."

"Yes, I thought so." Hermione's tone came off rather dry.

The Society for the Promotion of House-Elf Welfare (Ron, Harry and Minister Shaklebolt had all worked hard to convince her to alter the previous name) was still officially in favor of freeing all house-elves from servitude, and was subsequently considered a bit of a joke by many. Nevertheless, Hermione had (reluctantly) softened the group's approach over the years. Certainly some elves, like the increasingly old and senile Kreacher, were better off with masters like Harry and Ginny than they would be trying to make a paid living for themselves. In any event, they needed to focus on more immediate goals, like ending physical punishment. She had actually managed to attract a fair following, and these new regulations were the group's first major victory. Not that this entirely took away from their image as nutters.

She almost wished that Asteria would just outright call her that. Hermione didn't want to admit it, but she would have preferred the opportunity for righteous anger over the need for continued diplomacy.

"So—ahem." Asteria cleared her throat again. "What exactly do you need to know?"

"Just some basic information," Hermione said, trying (but not quite succeeding) to sound pleasant again. She reached into her bag and took out a quill, readying it with her clipboard. "Now, where did you get Tilly?"

"She's been with my family since before I was born. My father gave her to me as a wedding present."

"May I have his name for our records?"

"Aeson Greengrass. That's A-E..."

They spent the next several minutes going over paperwork. "Alright," Hermione said finally, handing her the parchments. "Just make sure all of that is correct and sign at the bottom, please."

"Alright..."

She was just adding her signature when the fireplace suddenly flared to life with emerald-green flames. "Ah," said Asteria, rising. "That should be my husband home for lunch."

"Ah," said Hermione, feeling as if ice water had been poured into her veins.

It had been years since Hermione had seen him, but Draco Malfoy had not changed much, other than being a little taller and with slightly thinner hair in the front. Actually, the strangest thing to Hermione was that he was smiling as he appeared, which was not something she had had much opportunity to see during their school years (unless one counted nasty smirks). He and Asteria shared a brief kiss before she turned back to the table. "Good afternoon, Draco. We have a guest right now, so I haven't quite had an opportunity to make your lunch yet."

"That's quite alright, dearest. And who..."

He caught sight of Hermione for the first time. She threw back her bushy hair and met his gaze, determined not to seem the least bit nervous.

For a moment Draco Malfoy looked confused, and Hermione wondered if he would simply fail to recognize her. It only lasted a second, however, before his gray eyes went hard and his mouth twitched into a tiny but outraged snarl. Hermione had to admit that she took pleasure seeing his lip quiver, as if he were trying to think of something to say but could not quite open his mouth enough to say it.

"This is Hermione Weasley, from the—what was it exactly, House-Elf Services Office? She just stopped by to..." Asteria had turned back toward her husband and noticed the look on his face. She frowned. "Draco, is everything alright?"

His lip quivered for just another moment before he finally spoke. "Fine, dearest." His stony gaze flickered from Hermione to Asteria and softened a bit. "Will she be staying long?"

"Not too much longer," Hermione said briskly, gathering up the parchments and rising to her feet. "I just need to speak to Tilly for a moment, see where she sleeps, that sort of thing. May I?"

"Of course," Asteria said, still hesitant as she searched her husband's face; he managed a more casual expression, which seemed to relieve her somewhat. "She should be upstairs somewhere with the baby. You just relax, dear," she said to Draco, who jumped a bit, having been lost in thought. "I'll be back in a minute. Come along, Ms. Weasley."

Hermione cast one last look at Draco as she followed Asteria out of the kitchen; his hands were balled into fists and he seemed to be glaring at her. She quickly turned away, turning up her nose and trying to look insouciant.

Asteria led her upstairs to a long hallway. "The last I saw they were in Scorpius' room. Let's see..."

She opened the first door on the left; it led to a room larger than Hermione and Ron's master bedroom at home, but which clearly belonged to a child. There was a small, neatly-made bed in one corner and a toy chest against the opposite wall. Hermione noticed a toy broomstick (the same brand that Rose used, actually) on a shelf besides an assortment of children's books. The walls, bedspread and curtains were all shades of light green and scarlet. Hermione frowned slightly, something in her memory jogging.

"Hmm. Not here," Asteria said. "They could be playing Hide-and-Seek anywhere in the house by now. I—"

She caught side of Hermione's expression, and her lips twitched into a smirk. "Caerphilly Catapults."

Hermione snapped out of her daze. "Pardon?"

"The colors. It's the one room in the house that Draco insisted on decorating himself. He's already decided that our three-year-old is destined to be Seeker for the Caerphilly Catapults." She sounded rather amused by this.

"Ah." Hermione hesitated for a moment. "My husband is the same way, actually. Our daughter is about that age, and he's already talking about getting her first racing broom."

"Merlin's beard!"

"Oh, but just a slow one! You know, a Cleansweep, so we can save the Firebolt 3 for her first Communion present."

Asteria chuckled. "Boys and their toys. Does your husband have a team?"

"Hmm. The Chudley Cannons."

"Oh." Hermione was surprised as Asteria suddenly took her hands, gazing at her with mock sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

Despite herself, Hermione snorted with laughter. "I will admit, there is a pall over our flat whenever the Championships are coming up."

The two laughed for another moment before Asteria sighed. "Well, I better get them. Tilly!"

Hermione knew that house-elves could hear whenever their masters called for them, but Tilly did not immediately appear. "She'll be here in a moment," Asteria explained. "I don't like her Apparating with the baby—makes me nervous. Did you say you needed to see where she slept?"

"Yes," said Hermione, raising her clipboard back to her face. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but new requirements insist a house-elf has a sleeping area of at least six feet square."

"Really?" Asteria frowned. "Tilly has actually slept in Scorpius' closet ever since we moved him out of our room..."

"Er, I'm not sure that—"

Asteria opened the closet door, gazing in worriedly. Hermione blinked. The whole area must have been at least nine foot square, with a cot more than large enough for a house-elf and a shelf filled with various random knickknacks. Hermione pursed her lips.

Mentally she said Merlin's beard, the Malfoy boy's closet is almost as big as Hugo's whole bedroom. That's it, I don't care how close it is to my parents, I don't care what a good deal it is, I don't even care if I'm being petty, after today I'm going to listen to Ron and start looking for a bigger place.

Verbally she said "I think this should be fine, actually."

"Wheeee! I flyin', I flyin'—"

"You called, Mistress?"

An especially small house-elf had entered the room, dressed in a silky sheet stamped with a family crest (Hermione could not tell if it represented the Malfoys or the Greengrasses). She held her hands over her head, and floating above her was a boy who could only be Draco Malfoy's son. He was twirling around like an astronaut in zero gravity, giggling as he spun and swam through the air.

"Oh, be careful, Tilly!"

"Of course, Mistress!"

Tilly motioned with her hands and Scorpius Malfoy floated upside-down to the center of the room, the top of his blond head touching the floor. The rest of his body gently eased down until he was lying on his back, laughing, at which point Tilly quickly bowed to Asteria and blinked at Hermione owlishly.

"Tilly, this is Ms. Weasley from the Ministry of Magic. She needs to talk to you for a moment."

"Of course, Mistress," Tilly said, and then bowed to Hermione too.

"Thank you." She turned to Asteria. "Um, may we do this in private?"

"Oh!" Apparently this had no occurred to Asteria, but she nodded. "Of course." She helped Scorpius climb to his feet. "Come along, dear."

"I wanna fly more! Make me fly!"

"Not right now, Scorpius. But your father's home from work, let's go say hello."

"Okay."

She took Scorpius by the hand and led her out of the room, leaving the door open. Hermione turned back to Tilly, who was eyeing her curiously. She looked nervous.

"Tilly is not getting Mistress and Master in trouble, is she?"

"Not at all," Hermione said. Though you may be in a moment, she thought. She examined the little house-elf closely. Her sheet was quite clean, and she did not seem to have the bruises or bandages that most abused house-elves possessed. But then, there were ways to hide that. "Please, sit down."

There was a small table near one corner of the room, covered with an assortment of parchment, crayons and colored pencils (all neatly arranged, of course). Tilly sat in one of its three toddler-sized chairs. Hermione awkwardly knelt on the floor and took some more parchments out of her bag, along with what looked like a medium-sized glass top.

"What is that, madam?"

"A Sneakoscope," Hermione said simply, carefully watching Tilly's expression. It looked blank.

Interviewing house-elves was tricky because even if you ignored their usual loyalty to their masters, they could easily be ordered to lie about anything. Even Truth Serums didn't really help matters, because the house-elf would just start choking as the potion's attempt to make them talk battled with their masters' orders to lie or be silent. There were really only two options: Legilimency or a Sneakoscope, the latter of which could at least detect lying even if it did not reveal the truth.

"We'll begin with a few questions to make sure the Sneakoscope is working," Hermione said, taking out her questionnaire. "You are named Tilly, correct?"

"Yes, madam." The Sneakoscope remained silent.

"You are currently the property of Asteria Malfoy née Greengrass, and by extension, her husband Draco Malfoy and son Scorpius Malfoy?"

"Yes, madam." The Sneakoscope remained silent.

"And have you ever, at any time, given Scorpius Malfoy sweets, presents or privileges which his parents had ordered you not to provide him?"

Tilly's eyes widened, and her ears went flat against her head. "N—No?"

The Sneakoscope immediately began to spin and flash. Tilly let out a terrified scream.

"No! Please do not be telling Mistress, it was only a few cookies and Master Scorpius was such a good boy, cleaning his bedroom so nicely—"

"Calm down—calm down, Tilly! That was only a test question for the Sneakoscope!"

Tilly's frightened cries died down to a whimper. Hermione shook her head, making a note that the Sneakoscope was working and could pick up Tilly's deceit. The question had become something of a running joke around the Office—apparently there wasn't a house-elf alive who could resist spoiling a "Little Master," no matter what the consequences. Hermione was not sure she approved, but she had never quite found an easier way to make sure that a house-elf would lie to her.

"Alright—now we can get down to the serious questions. Please remember that all your answers will be kept confidential."

"What?"

"It means we won't tell your masters what you said."

"Why not?" she asked timidly.

"So that you don't have to worry if you tell us anything that they wouldn't want you to tell us."

Tilly gasped. "Tilly is not to be telling madam any of Mistress or Master's secrets! How Master's Apothecary ages its wine is only Master and Master's father's business!"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Those aren't the sort of questions I'm going to be asking, Tilly. I—"

"Ahem."

Hermione spun around as Tilly immediately leapt to her feet. "Master!" she said, bowing to Draco Malfoy as he stood glowering in the doorway. "How is your work going today—"

"Tilly, could you please leave us for a moment?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I need Tilly to stay, actually. We were just about to get started on the questionnaire."

"Um..." Tilly looked nervously from one human to the other, but there was really no question who she was going to obey in the end.

"This will just be a moment, Tilly. Asteria needs your help in the kitchen."

"Oh." She still seemed uncertain, but smiled nervously. "Yes, Master."

She bowed to him, then to Hermione, and then Disapparated with a CRACK!

Hermione rose to her feet, smoothing out her robe as Malfoy walked slowly into the room. "Is there a problem, Mister Malfoy?" She kept her voice steady, trying to hide her nervousness. Draco's eyes were fiery, and while she knew she had the legal power in this scenario, a small part of her wondered if he would actually try to turn this into a duel.

"What do you think you're doing here, Granger?"

"It's Weasley," Hermione snapped. Admittedly this was a bit hypocritical after the many hours she had spent debating the name-change, but she did not like the sound of her maiden name in Draco Malfoy's mouth—all it did was bring back memories of his smug, bigoted comments from their school days.

"Ah, yes," he sneered. "And about that charming husband of yours. Do you honestly expect me to believe that his raid on our house a few months ago was anything but a calculated attempt to carry on a petty grudge?"

"Did he find anything?" Hermione had been too polite to ask Asteria, but didn't extend that grace to her husband.

Draco clearly knew that Hermione knew the answer, and his eyes flickered away from hers. "Those daggers were old family heirlooms. I barely even remembered they were in my storeroom. We never used them."

"A pity Aunt Bella didn't know about them. I seem to recall she had a certain fondness for knives."

Hermione spat the words out before she was even aware of deciding to say them. Just as quickly Draco's face contorted with rage—his arm twitched, and Hermione drew back, sure that he was about to pull his wand on her. Instead a heavy, stony silence fell between them.

"I'm not an idiot," Draco said finally. "I refuse to believe that you just happen to be investigating my family."

"The new law says that every family with a house-elf needs to be investigated."

"And you, out of everyone in your office, just happened to be assigned mine?"

Hermione considered him for a long moment. "No," she said finally. "I took your case on purpose."

Draco flashed an angry yet triumphant grin, but she raised her voice and continued before he could interrupt. "I happen to remember how your family treated its last house-elf. You do remember Dobby, don't you? I think it says something that he was the only elf I've ever met who wanted to be out of his masters' service."

For a moment Draco looked like he had been slapped, but his angry expression quickly returned. "We treat Tilly fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Asteria dotes on her practically as much as she does our son."

Hermione's heart quickened. "Then I suppose you have nothing to hide."

"Well, if you have nothing to hide, talk to her with me or Asteria in the room."

"That's against regulations."

"So working for the Ministry lets your dictate where I go in my own home, then?"

Hermione blinked. "No. But if necessary, it allows me to remove Tilly from your home so that we can interview her at a neutral location. Shall I send an owl asking for a warrant?"

Draco was shaking. "If you think you can use your position just to bully me and my family—"

"Because that's certainly not something a Malfoy has ever tried to do."

The two glared at each other for another long moment, before Malfoy suddenly spun around on his heel. "Tilly!"

There was a brief pause, then a CRACK! and the little house-elf reappeared, now wearing a frilly pink apron. Draco stormed out of the room without looking at her or speaking another word. Her ears flattened again as she watched him.

"Did Tilly do something wrong?"

"Of course not," Hermione said breezily. She took a deep breath and felt a stab of shame for how much that confrontation had unnerved her. "Please, sit back down so we can begin."

They settled back around the table and Hermione took up her parchments again. "At any time in the last year, have either of your adult masters physically harmed you, either with or without magic?"

She blinked. "No."

The Sneakoscope remained silent.

"At any time in the last year, have you ever physically harmed yourself due to any of your masters' orders?"

"No."

The Sneakoscope remained silent. That surprised Hermione; she could still remember watching Dobby try to beat his face against a wall, more than a year after he was technically free of the Malfoys' command. She frowned.

"Are you sure?" That question was not, in fact, on the parchment.

"Yes, Tilly is sure."

"Alright, then. Moving on..."

"B is for...B'udger," Scorpius said, carefully turning the page of his book. "C is for...Crup..."

"Elbows off the table, Scorpius," Asteria said, looking up from her cooking. Then, "Draco? Is something...wrong?"

Her husband, who had been glaring moodily at the wall, looked up as though startled. "Nothing, dearest."

She frowned, looking back at her food. "That Ms. Weasley seems nice," she said tentatively. No response. "Do you know her form somewhere?"

Draco glanced at the back of his wife's head, frowning. "She's fairly well-known. Founding that bloody club for house-elf kooks." He hesitated. "We were in the same year at Hogwarts. And I believe she's also one of Harry Potter's friends. Or a relative, now, by marriage."

"Oh, really? I didn't realize." Asteria laughed nervously—Draco had never really gotten into all the details of his relationship with Potter, but Asteria knew that it was less than amiable. And of course she knew about her husband's...youthful indiscretions during the Second War.

There was click-clicking at the window; Asteria looked up to see Draco's owl tapping on the glass outside. "Oh, the mail's here," she said, and she opened the window with a wave of her wand. The owl fluttered in, but Draco was hardly paying attention—he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and immediately jumped to his feet.

Tilly entered the room, bowing, followed by Hermione. Draco shot her a look, even as Scorpius tugged on his sleeve. "Daddy—" he said, pointing at the owl now watching him from the table.

"Are you alright, Tilly?" Draco asked, letting his gaze flicker from his enemy to the elf.

"Yes, Master."

"Of course she is, Draco, why wouldn't she be?" Asteria took the pan off of the stove and came to stand beside him. "Did you find out everything you need?"

"Mummy—Daddy—"

"Just a minute, darling."

"I believe I have all the information necessary for my evaluation," Hermione said briskly.

"Grilled her thoroughly enough, did you?" Draco sneered, only to earn a surprised look from his wife. "Well, go on, then," he said, and his tone was almost mocking. "How did we do?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Scorpius pulled harder on Draco's sleeve, crying insistently.

"Dobby, Daddy!" he said, pointing to the owl. "Dobby has letter—"

Hermione blinked, Draco's eyes widened, but Asteria just sighed, exasperated. "Scorpius, you have to learn to be more patient!" she said, moving away from her husband to removal the owl's envelope.

"But Dobby, Mummy! Dobby has letter!"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to interrupt when the grown-ups are talking! ...Oh, look, it's some pictures from your grandparents' vacation. Grandpa Greengrass is wearing those silly Muggle clothes, isn't that funny?"

Scorpius giggled as Asteria handed him some moving photographs which, from Hermione's brief glimpse, showed an older man wearing various bright Hawaiian shirts. Asteria rolled her eyes; Draco was looking pointedly away from Hermione.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Um, yes. Everything seems to be in order, as far as I can tell. You should get an official notice to that effect within four to six business days."

Draco finally looked up to gape at her. "You're passing us?"

"I see no reason not to," she said, putting her clipboard into her bag. "Tilly seems happy, and your treatment of her is apparently well within Ministry of Magic regulations."

"Oh, thank you, madam!" Tilly said, bowing so low that her nose almost touched the floor.

"Yay!" said Scorpius, pretending to understand what the grown-ups were talking about.

"Thank you, Ms. Weasley," Asteria said. "Would you like to stay for lunch?"

"I don't have the time, but thank you."

"Well, there's a pity," Draco grumbled. "But if you must—let me walk you to the door."

He flashed his wife a very forced smile before leading Hermione back into the entrance hall; at the front door he stopped and turned to her, arms crossed. "Alright, Gran—Weasley. What's your game?"

She wanted to answer coolly, but could not help but sound a little sheepish. "No game, Malfoy. I am—surprised to admit that your family seems to treat Tilly as well as any house-elf owner I've come across. For what that's worth."

"I know how we treat her. The question is, am I really supposed to believe that when you file that report, it won't be filled with a lot of bilge just to get me and Asteria thrown in Azkaban?"

"Unfortunately, I would need Tilly's corpse to get you thrown in Azkaban. Abuse will just cost you a lot of gold," Hermione muttered bitterly. Draco continued to glare at her. "If it makes you feel better, my husband will probably leave me over this."

"Hmph."

They stared at each other for a long time before Hermione spoke.

"You really named your owl 'Dobby?'"

Draco's lip curled. "What of it?" he snapped.

"Draco?" Asteria's head emerged from the kitchen. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione turned. "Fine. Just exchanging some words about a mutual friend."

"...Yes," Draco agreed, and then opened the front door.

Hermione flashed him her practiced, pleasant smile, then gave a more natural to Asteria. "Thank you for everything, Ms. Malfoy. And let me just say, you have a lovely home."

"Oh, thank you," she said, smiling back. "It was very nice meeting you."

"Same here."

With that Hermione turned, set her gaze straight ahead and walked past Draco out of the house.

A/N: It's kind of weird writing the main characters as adults with jobs; hopefully Hermione and Draco came out alright. (It's also kind of weird writing Scorpius as a playful toddler, since normally I make him kind of stiff and formal.)

Hope you enjoyed, and please review!