"I'm changing my bet," Angelina says. "Hand the paper over."

"Finally realized that I'm right?" Hermione asks as she complies.

"Ha! As if!" Angelina says as she conjures a a pen and scribbles something on the paper. "I'm changing my bet from five Galleons to ten."

George groans. "Ten Galleons? You are single handedly going to bankrupt Wizard Wheezes with your betting, woman."

"Oh, tell that to the thirty you have staked on Rose and Scorpius!"

"Well, that's different! They are actually going to work out!"

A round of protests break out, Ron the loudest of them all.

"My daughter will not marry a Malfoy!" he says. "Even if Scorpius is strangely nice and I quite like him, he's still a Malfoy."

"Well, someone has to marry him," Fleur points out.

The entire Weasley family (minus kids) is assembled in the living room of the Burrow, which has never felt so small. It's nearly midnight on Christmas Day, the children have been sent to bed (at least in theory), and the adults are engaged in some good old-fashioned gambling, complete with excessive consumption of alcohol.

"Exactly," George says from his precarious position on a couch armrest. "He'll end up over here for the holidays no matter what, our children make up about half the population of Hogwarts. Once you accept that, it's clear that he and Rose have easily the most chemistry."

"He's already here for the holidays," Hermione says. "And need I remind you who invited him?" She glowers at George. "Albus! Not Rose, not Dominique, not Lily. Albus!"

"They're just friends," Angelina says. "Someone refill my drink."

Someone tips Firewhiskey into her cup, and she nods her appreciation and takes a swig. "In conclusion: Scorpius is clearly going to fall in love with Dom, and then they'll get married and have ultra-blond babies, and Draco Malfoy is going to have to deal with his grandson being with a part-Veela."

"In your dreams!" Bill says, pointing an accusing and slightly unsteady finger at her. "You leave my children out of this!"

"Yes, please do," Flear says. "And anyway, Dominique eez going to end up wiz Lysander, I've already designed ze wedding invitations."

There is a general scramble for the piece of paper, and Ginny manages to seize it. She sits on an ottoman and waves it above her head. "Look, they're obviously going to marry Muggles or something, and we'll all end up losing money, somehow."

"Speak for yourself," Percy says. "I've got a Galleon on each of them in the 'other' category."

"You can't do that!"

"Is he allowed to do that? That's not fair!"

"You can't cover the entire Wizarding and Muggle population with one Galleon, Perce!"

Percy looks smug. "It's on the paper, which means it's Hermione-approved."

Ginny squints at the parchment in her hand. "So it is," she says after laboriously sounding out the letters in 'other'. "What's up with that?"

"It seemed reasonable!" Hermione says, turning slightly pink, although that's more likely from the drinks than embarrassment.

"You know what doesn't seem reasonable?" Angelina asks, taking advantage of the opening. "It doesn't seem reasonable to assume that just because two people are friends, it means that they'll end up together! Accept it and move on."

Hermione shakes her head and reaches into her pocket, grabbing a folded piece of paper. "I set up a quill to record every single interaction between Albus and Scorpius, Johnson, and I bloody dare you to tell me these are platonic!"

"'Mione, what—" Ron starts, looking alarmed, but is completely ignored in the melee as Hermione starts reading.

"Second course, 7:31 PM. Albus asks Scorpius to pass the peas, their fingers touch, they both blush, and Scorpius spills the peas all over the table." The look she sends Angelina is both triumphant and a little wobbly. "If that doesn't have romantic undertones, I don't know what does!"

"It's a crush!" Angelina protests. "Crushes don't necessarily mean anything. They're fifteen. It's early. I have done personality tests, and there is undeniable proof—" she catches sight of the shocked faces of those around her but plows on "—undeniable, I say, proof that Dom and Scorpius are meant to be. If they don't realize it now, they will in a few years."

"Personality tests? You're basing this off of personality tests? I have real, actual evidence that they're in love, and you're telling me about—"

She quiets suddenly, and Hermione twisted around to see a small shape in the doorway.

"Mum?" Hugo asked. "I—I wanted some water, and—"

Hermione straightens up and hurries over to him. "—and you should be old enough to Aguamenti yourself a drink by now, you got an O in Charms."

"Yes, but it's the holidays!"

"And I'm the Minister of Magic," she says, shooing him out the door. "Go to bed."

Hugo grumbles but does as he is told. After he's gone, the single large group splits into many smaller clumps, and it's not long before the adults begin to retire for the night. Above their heads, however, is another story.

"Okay," Roxanne says from her throne atop the bed, Lily and Dominique at her sides, "the goal is to get as much money as possible. Here's the plan…"