Hermione picked up her mail off her large stone desk before striding across her plush office. The room was enormous, decorated with hand picked art. She sat into one of the leather armchairs in front of the fireplace, flipping through her mail with interest.

Her secretary had clearly removed the timewaster mail already: the large number of fanmail that she still continued to get even 5 years after the war had ended. She smiled at several new editions of magazines on modern transfiguration, charms and potions. Along with the extravagant office, the benefit of working in a private company with Draco Malfoy was that he spared no expense when it came to her subscriptions or reading materials.

Malfoy had even been as generous as to convert one of the offices in the building to a library, filled with any and all books Hermione wished.

Malfoy certainly hadn't been Hermione's first choice in business partner. But when he approached her after the war, just as disillusioned as her, he had appealed to her intelligence. Malfoy had always been hot at her heels when it came to marks at Hogwarts. When they returned for their final year after the war, they had even become reluctant study partners as they were the only ones who could measure up to one another.

Malfoy was a natural businessman. He was barely out of school and he had already used his far reaching connections to secure a truly staggering amount of funding for his business. He wanted to challenge himself, to push at the boundaries of the wizarding world, to create. When Hermione had been offered total freedom to work on whatever projects she wanted, she couldn't resist agreeing to come on board. The hefty pay and benefits didn't hurt either.

Malfoy & Granger were a multi disciplinary company. They had a department devoted to creating new potions, a department devoted to legal services, and a department devoted to modernising spells. They had become so popular that within their first year they were already gracing magazines and papers with their work. Whether it was pushing for the fair legal representation of magical creatures, or bringing a magical form of electricity to the wizarding world, they were constantly in the spotlight for breaking new ground.

Somewhere along the way, Hermione and Draco had even found their way back to their pre-war passions. What had started as an competitive, angsty pushing of boundaries had blossomed into a way for Draco to revisit his passion for potions, and for Hermione to help the magical creature community.

Hermione set aside her magazines on her stylish side table for later reading. Her attention now turned to a glossy card. A lavish gold script graced the cream card.

"It seems you will be receiving yet another Order of Merlin…" a silky voice drawled. Draco had strolled through the open door into Hermione's office and came and sat in the armchair opposite her.

"And you'll be getting your first…" Hermione smiled, still not looking up from the card, "Its really quite amazing that a potion originally written off as a mistake has ended up changing so many lives for the better."

"Including ours," Draco said, a smirk playing at his lips. Malfoy & Granger stocks were soaring. Hermione sighed and looked up. While she certainly didn't mind that their company was so wildly successful, she did wish Draco would stop pretending he cared more about that than some of the work they were doing.

"I suppose this means another gala," Hermione sighed, "Do we at least get to bring a decent amount of guests with us this time?"

"You mean Potter and the Weasleys? Of course," Draco smiled tightly, "Although I myself will be content with simply one stunning plus-one on my arm."

Hermione rolled her eyes. The only thing Draco liked to show off more than his success and style was his never ending string of beautiful dates. She knew better though. After the war, Draco's personal life was shattered. His father was rotting away in Azkaban, his mother and friends known Death Eater sympathisers who he had long cut contact with.

Of course, Draco's happiness was not the only cost of the war. Hermione actually struggled to think of any relationships that had survived more than a year after the war. Harry and Ginny fell apart, her and Ron barely lasted three months, Bill and Fleur divorced… Heck, even Molly and Arthur had a temporary six-month separation in the year after the war, although thankfully they had reconciled.

Hermione put down the invitation on her side table and unfurled the Daily Prophet, flipping aimlessly through the pages. Draco rose again from the chair, lazily ambling past Hermione and pausing to look over her shoulder.

"And I'll certainly be dressed better than that," Draco smirked, looking at the social pages of the Prophet. There was a young handsome man dressed in a hideous striped suit, his hair styled ridiculously.

"Didn't she used to be an Unspeakable?" Hermione murmured, now looking at a photo of Fleur grinning radiantly at the camera in a group of young women. She looked as beautiful, yet cold and aloof, as she had at the Yule Ball all those years ago. The caption underneath stated 'Fleur Delacour, Socialite.'

"She was one of the best," Draco murmured thoughtfully, "Although I did hear her divorce from Weasley last year was rather nasty. He had become quite an undesirable character after the war. Understandable that she wanted to trade dangerous secrets for cocktail parties after that. People can only take so much stress in their lives."

An easy silence fell over them. Draco had grown into a far more understanding man since the war. In fact, Hermione thought proudly to herself, especially since he had begun his working relationship with her.

"Well, I'm off to go shopping for my dress robes for our award," Draco said airily, turning on his heel to leave Hermione's office, "Make sure you select something that won't embarrass me, Granger."

She rolled her eyes. Some things never change.

Hermione was grateful to step out of the carriage she had taken to the awards ceremony. Although her and Draco now had a good relationship, there was still a great deal of tension between him and the others, particularly Ron.

While their group of friends had thankfully mended bridges after the numerous and disastrous breakups and breakdowns following the war, Harry and Ron had never quite managed to mend the age old rift with Malfoy.

Ron stepped out of the carriage with a strong frown on his face. He was dressed in clean cut burgundy dress robes but still looked scruffy. His hair was overdue for a haircut and was beginning to curl at the ends by his ears. He was also attempting to grow a beard, but had so far managed nothing but a mess of ginger bristles.

Harry stepped out lightly after him. Ever the contrast to his best friend, Harry had cut his hair for the occasion and attempted to tame it. It was short on the sides and longer on top, and he had attempted to smooth its wild ways. He was wearing plain but elegant black dress robes. Luna and Ginny emerged behind him, wearing pleasant gowns of orange and grey respectively.

Draco stepped out behind them all, his date holding his arm tightly. Draco was dressed in impeccable emerald green dress robes. His face was cleanly shaved and hair was swept back neatly. Hermione struggled to suppress an eye roll at his date, which had clearly been the source of the unimpressed tension in the carriage. Cho Chang was beaming from Draco's arm, Harry's infamous giant school crush. Cho who had betrayed the DA during their horrible time under Umbridge.

The usual flashes of photography began, as was customary when the golden trio appeared together in public. Hermione hated it. It was an unpleasant price to pay for saving the world and building up a successful business. Ron, however, loved being in the spotlight. His frown from being locked in with Draco had already been replaced by a wide grin as he waved at the photographers. Harry and Hermione had to grab an elbow each and drag him inside the venue to get him away from the cameras.

"Merlin, Ron, how do you not get sick of it?" Harry muttered, finally relaxing now they were inside the media free hall.

"We didn't all get to be famous from infancy, mate," Ron said curtly, smoothing his weak progress of a beard, "D'you think the facial hair is gonna look sharp in the photos?"

Harry and Hermione both ignored him, instead focussing on a tray of delectable appetizers that were being offered to them by a passing waiter. Ron followed their lead, taking two giant handfuls, plunging one into his robes to stash for later.

"Honestly, Ronald! We aren't at Hogwarts anymore!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated with Ron already. She wondered what had ever driven her to date the man in the first place.

"We're the Golden Trio," Ron smirked smugly, "They don't care what we do."

As if on cue, a throng of people came to talk to them. Hermione wriggled out, leaving Harry and Ron circled by the fans asking questions about the war. Draco and Cho were already across the room, talking animatedly with a top supplier of potions ingredients. Of course, Hermione shook her head.

Ginny and Luna approached her, a glass of champagne in each hand, and handed one to Hermione.

"Figured you and Harry would need these to get through the small-talk," Ginny said, looking over at the tight circle of fans surrounding Harry and Ron, "But I see we were too late to save Harry on that count."

Hermione laughed and sipped her champagne. These events really were much better when she got to bring her friends along with her.

"Ah, my favourite fans," a voice playfully called, and the girls turned to see George Weasley smiling brightly at them. Always one to stand out, he was wearing an expensive muggle suit.

"George!" Ginny cheered, enveloping him in a hug, "I had no idea you'd be here!"

"Well I am a titan of business," George joked. Hermione knew that the joke was actually quite close to the truth. During the war Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had expanded into defensive products, proving to be a very lucrative branch of their business.

"Of course I doubt they will ever nominate me for an award for creating the invisible whoopee cushion," George said, his eyes sparkling. The girls laughed and handed him the champagne originally intended for Harry.

"So who else do we know here?" Ginny asked curiously, scanning the crowd.

"The usual movers and shakers," George said with a grin, taking a sip of his champagne, "Shacklebolt is around here somewhere, if I'm not mistaken… Blimey…" he trailed off, looking behind the girls. They turned and followed his eye line.

Fleur Delacour had just entered the great ballroom, smiling radiantly but coolly. Her long silver-blonde hair trailed silkily down her back. She was wearing a silver gown that clung devastatingly to her body, draping to the ground and trailing behind her. Flashing in her hair was a thin delicate crown of sorts, similar to the laurel wreath worn by romans. The silver was wrought into the shape of thin branches that tangled through her hair. Her face was somehow as flawless as it had been when she was seventeen. Her sharp jawline and high cheekbones added to her haughty air. Around her neck was a delicate diamond necklace. Her pale skin and hair jarred perfectly with her blood red lipstick.

"Well, it's a good thing Bill didn't come after all," George said, recovering. Fleur flashed the group an icy smile before gliding across the room to speak with a group of young women.

At that moment, the first speaker for the night approached the stage and they turned dutifully to listen. Hermione inwardly sighed. She supposed it was ungrateful, but these events were always so dull. The speakers often blurred into one another, recounting the highlights of various people's lives, throwing meaningless compliments, flashing large smiles for the cameras.

She blinked and an older wizard was on the stage, addressing the audience. Draco had rejoined the group and was standing at her elbow.

"And now… the Order of Merlin, First Class…" the old man intoned, "This is to be awarded to Ms. Hermione Jean Granger and Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy…"

Hermione detected the hidden flinch at Draco hearing his middle name. It was his father's name. But in a second it was gone and he was taking Hermione's arm and leading them gracefully to the stage.

The stage was incredibly bright, a fact not helped by the event photographer starting to shoot off some pictures. Hermione suddenly felt self-conscious about her blue dress and her curls that she had struggled to sensibly tame. She was brought back to earth by a familiar voice clearing their throat at the microphone. The old man had gone after introducing them, and was replaced by Fleur.

"All of us in this room, will know someone who has been affected by lycanthropy," Fleur started in her melodic voice. Hermione noted that her accent was nowhere near as thick as it had been when she had first met her all those years ago at the Triwizard Tournament.

The crowd shivered nervously at her words. To be turned by a werewolf was still a social death sentence in the wizarding community, even after the war. Especially after Fenrir Greyback's infamy in the war.

"But we are here tonight to recognise what Mademoiselle Granger and Monsieur Malfoy have done for that part of our community. These young entrepreneurs have created a potion, where if it is taken within six months of receiving the Bite, it can cure lycanthropy."

There was another ripple of noise in the crowd.

"They have created a way for someone who has had the bite inflicted on them to escape their fate of being a werewolf if they so choose. Not only this, but they have used their company's considerable resources to subsidise this potion and distribute it widely."

At that, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Hermione felt awkward. She looked at Draco, he was smiling tightly and did a small bow to the crowd.

"For this, we award you, The Order of Merlin, First Class."

Fleur stepped away from the microphone, turning briefly to a young man holding a wooden case open. She gracefully dipped a hand into the case and withdrew a medal, breezing over to Draco and placing the medal around his neck and kissing him politely on the cheek. Draco quietly whispered his thanks. Fleur returned to the case and withdrew another medal, now approaching Hermione.

Hermione felt her breath hitch in her throat as sapphire eyes locked with hers. Fleur was so close she could smell the scent of vanilla and lilies that seemed to emanate from her smooth neck. Fleur looped the medal over Hermione's neck, moving her lips to brush against her ear.

"Félicitations pour votre prix," Fleur whispered, before quickly withdrawing and kissing Hermione on the cheek.

"Th-thanks," Hermione whispered back, feeling a strange thrill rush up her back. Her eyes locked with Fleur's again and she thought she saw a flicker in the French witch's eyes. But all of a sudden, Fleur had swept away again, and the moment was gone.

Draco and Hermione's awards were the last of the event. Now a band had set up on the stage and were in full swing. George had loosened his tie and moved from the champagne to small tumblers of whiskey. There were groups of people dancing in front of the band.

"So have you guys seen much of Fleur since… her and Bill?" Hermione asked, wanting to know more about the mysterious Frenchwoman who had nursed her back to health during the war.

Ginny scrunched her face up. She had never liked Fleur. Evidently, that had not changed after the divorce.

"Bit strange she was presenting the award for pretty much curing lycanthropy," Ron said, swigging at a handle of beer.

"I mean she was married to someone afflicted by it up until a while ago," Luna said, cocking her head to one side.

"Those two brought out the absolute worst in each other," George said from over his tumbler. Hermione was interested.

"It ended pretty much the worst way it could… Cheating on both sides, Bill drinking a lot, both saying incredibly hurtful things… It was nasty," Ginny explained, before scowling in Fleur's direction, "But now, Bill's off the drink and she… she's still as ice cold as ever."

Hermione frowned. She had always thought that perhaps Molly and Ginny gave Fleur too hard a time. She herself used to be of that view, but Fleur had been so warm and caring when she had arrived at Shell Cottage, beaten and battered… Hermione shook her head, banishing the wartime memories from her mind.

As if on cue, Fleur was suddenly approaching the group.

"Bonsoir, Harry, Hermione, Weasleys…" Fleur said, her face set to her patented cold smile. Harry gave Fleur a quick hug but the Weasleys hung back and nodded carefully. Hermione flashed a weak smile, her mind unexpectedly replaying the sensation of Fleur's lips brushing her ear.

"How's it going Fleur? Didn't know you were presenting the award," Harry said brightly, trying to alleviate some of the uncomfortableness.

"Oui, it seems magical creatures and and those of their descent, such as myself, owe a lot to the work of Malfoy & Granger," Fleur said, her eyes landing on Hermione. Hermione felt a blush rise heavily in her cheeks.

"Seems a bit off for you to present an award for a werewolf cure," Ginny said, crossing her arms, "Was that a shot at Bill?"

Fleur smiled coldly, "Oh I think he can manage his own shots just fine." She had whirled around and breezed off again before Ginny could connect that it was a reference to Bill's drinking woes.

"That bitch!" Ginny spat, and George and Luna held her back from chasing the retreating figure of Fleur. Her silver-blonde hair was swaying hypnotically as she walked.

"Gin, leave it," George muttered, "The two of them have had enough goes at each other already. We need to just stay out of it."

Ron had purpled, and not with his former attraction to Fleur, "Ginny's right though, George! What right does she have to talk about Bill's drinking?! She probably caused it! You saw how bad he was… when he came home…"

Ron's voice caught in his throat and he went silent. Since losing Fred, Ron had become even more protective of his family.

"Reckon its about time to call it a night," George said, trying to smile again and draining his tumbler, "Come on guys, I'll shout you a nightcap at mine."

Ron and Harry nodded. Ginny still looked seething but George and Luna still had a firm grip on her so it looked like she might not have a choice.

"I might go and find Draco for a celebratory drink here," Hermione said, "But you guys go ahead."

The others nodded and made their goodbyes before exiting. Hermione swept another champagne off a tray and she went to seek out Draco. She saw him slipping out into a hallway and decided to follow, weaving through the crowd of attendees. When she made it out into the hallway it was empty.

Unfazed, Hermione looked down the hallway and saw that it led out to a balcony. A classic Malfoy move to sneak off for a cigar, Hermione thought, rolling her eyes. She strode down the hallway and paused in the doorway.

Draco wasn't out there on the small balcony, but another familiar figure was. Hermione recognised the long silver-blonde hair trailing down a toned back. Alarmingly, she also recognised the person with their hand deep in that hair. A young wizarding model, Amy, who had been Draco's date at a function the previous year. She was supposed to be engaged to Kingsley Shacklebolt's son now.

Hermione felt the air rush out of her lungs as she watched Fleur kissing Amy, their arms tangled around each other. In her awkwardness, she stumbled backwards, knocking over a tree in a pot.

At the noise, the two women pulled apart and turned to look at Hermione. A heavy blush covered Amy's face and she muttered something unintelligible before rushing past Hermione and disappearing into the hallway behind her.

"Hermione?" Fleur said, her voice mildly surprised.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, completely thrown by what she had just witnessed. Fleur approached her slowly, her hips swaying slowly.

"I'm sure the Weasleys will have already told you," Fleur said, smiling coldly, "I am not a good person."

With that she kissed Hermione quickly on the cheek and left, gliding down the hallway before disappearing.

Hermione walked further out onto the balcony, exhaling heavily and leaning on the railing. She looked up at the stars, her mind whirring at the feelings coursing through her body after seeing Fleur kissing a woman.

"A surprisingly dull night," Draco said, appearing beside her on the balcony. He pulled out a small matchbook and lit a cigar, beginning to puff away.

"Yeah," Hermione said, ignoring the heat rising between her legs as she processed the fact that Fleur liked women.

A silence fell between the two as they leant on the balcony looking out into the dark.

"Draco?"

"Granger?"

"You date men as well as women, right?" Hermione asked. Malfoy was no stranger to bringing the odd handsome man as his date to events, amongst the string of attractive witches.

"What about it?" Draco said airily, puffing at his cigar some more.

"How did you know you liked men as well?" Hermione asked, looking at Draco. He sighed, his handsome features pale in the outdoor lighting. He turned to look at Hermione.

"Don't overthink it, Granger," he said, handing Hermione a cigar from inside his breast pocket. She accepted.