Part 3: In Which Hermione Attends a Ball.

Too mych Exytemente doth result in an Imbalance of Humours whych is to be avoyded at Alle Costs by ye Gentlewytch. Bludde-lettynge doth alevyate Certain Hysterical Conditions as do Cold Bathes, Drenchyinge & Poultyces applyed to ye Vital Partes.

---

"Oh, hell," Hermione groaned, digging her fingers into the mass of her hair and tugging lightly. The double bed was covered with an assortment of robes, Muggle dresses, skirts, blouses and cloaks.

"What about your formal robes?" Audrey asked – the voice of reason, as usual. "Can you update them with new buttons or something?"

"The red silk ones are over twenty years old and look it, and the gold velvet ones have a stain around the hem that has never come out despite banishing till I was blue in the face. The black ones are for funerals, and if I change their colour, chances are they'll never turn back properly. They're far too plain anyway. No, I need new clothes, damn it."

"How about a Muggle ball-gown?" Rose asked.

"All ze rage wiz ze witches in Paris," Fleur said cheerfully. "You'll be in ze height of fashion, Hermione."

"But I'm not supposed to be; this is Rose's night!"

Rose shook her head, so that her long, dark-auburn hair flew brightly around her face. "No, I'm going to be all demure and virginal in pastel, hiding behind my fan and cooing, 'Fie, sir, we haven't been introduced!' This isn't the wedding; you're allowed to be as dazzling as you like, Mum. Anyway, you mustn't let your enigmatic escort down."

"Escort?" Fleur asked.

"Just someone the Malfoys appointed as arbiter. It's convenient for us to go together – saves either of us worrying about finding a partner."

"Mum's got a date, and she won't tell us," Rose stage-whispered to her aunts. "Very mysterious! I can't wait to meet him."

Audrey and Fleur exchanged significant looks while Hermione hid her smile. No doubt Molly and Arthur would be burning with curiosity by tomorrow. Since Molly was making a point of not speaking to either Rose or Hermione, she could continue to burn until the ball. Currently, George was taking bets on whether Molly and Arthur would actually attend. Lucius had competition there in the cutting-off-noses-to-spite-faces stakes, although Hermione suspected that even Molly occasionally conceded that discretion was the better part of valour.

---

Rules to be observed by ye Personnes of Goode Standyng upon attending a Greate Balle sych as of Betrothal & other Celebratory Tymes.

I. No spittyng, fartyng, pickyng of ye Nose or Lewd Behavyour on Payne of a Fyne of VI Knuts

II. No hexyng, cursyng or damage to ye Personnes, Elfes, Famylyars, Properties or Accoutrements on Payne of a Fyne of XI Sickyls

III. Ye Fayre Maiden Wytches shall behave in a Manner yt is Delycate, Nice & befitting yr Tender Yeares. Alle Maides to weare yr Haire free & unbound as confirms yr Status.

IV. Ye Gentlewizards shall behave in a Manner yt is Gallante & shall entertayne with Gentil Amusements.

V. Ye Matrons, Beldames & Wyves shall ensure ye Goode Conduct of alle & shall weare yr Haire duly confined & bound & shall notte engage in any Nafaryous Doings. On sych do ye Virgin Honoure of ye Maides depend.

---

"I'll get it!" Rose yelled as the door-charm tinkled. Hugo had already left to collect his girl-friend-of-the-week, delivering Biggles to their elderly neighbour on his way out. Hermione pulled on her shoes – why, oh, why had she let Fleur persuade her to buy such high heels? – and hurried out of the bathroom to the top of the stairs.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley," Snape's smooth baritone was unmistakable.

"Can I help you?" Rose enquired politely, although she must have realised that this was their escort to the ball.

"Severus Snape at your service," he said.

Hermione heard Rose catch her breath in a little gasp. "Snape? Are you the Severus Snape?"

"As far as I am aware, there is only the one."

"The 'Severus' my cousin Al's named for? Really? I thought you were dead!" Rose gave a little huff of laughter. "I'm sorry; what a daft thing to say! Only I've heard so much about you."

"How unfortunate for you."

"Oh, no," she said seriously, "Uncle Harry, Auntie Ginny and Mum always say you're their hero. Please, come in and don't mind the mess. Mum'll be down in a moment."

Hermione paused, wondering if this polite, formal wizard was the same man who had flayed her with his sarcasm when she was a child, or if he had matured in the intervening years as much as she had.

"Mum says that Mr Malfoy asked you to be the arbiter for my betrothal. Do you know the Malfoys very well?"

"Scorpius is my god-son."

"Oh," Rose said faintly, "I didn't know that."

"I requested that the Malfoys told no one; however, the irresistible combination of your mother and Lucius Malfoy has lured me out of obscurity."

"My mother and Scorpius' grandfather? That's the most incendiary mixture I've ever heard of!"

"Hardly, Miss Weasley. That would be your grandparents and Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh, god, yes!" Rose groaned. "I dread to think what will happen when Scorpius and I start a family. Wizarding War three at the least."

"No, Miss Weasley," Snape said in a low, chilly voice, "I do not think so."

Hermione gasped and grabbed at the banister, her wand flying to her free hand at her subconscious bidding. Then she paused as Rose spoke. Rose might have inherited a little of her father's speak-first-and-think-afterwards approach to life, but she was no longer a child.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape," Rose said quietly. "That was a very tactless thing for me to say."

Snape allowed the silence to stretch on for an uncomfortable length of time before he replied. "Apology accepted. I am no longer anyone's professor, thank Merlin, and I would prefer you to call me 'Mr Snape'."

"Of course," Rose whispered.

Hermione descended the stairs, stowing her wand up her sleeve and smiling brightly at her daughter. "Good evening, Mr Snape. I see you've met Rose. Are we ready?"

She turned to Snape and almost tripped over her heels. He was wearing a magnificent set of bottle green velvet robes, embroidered at the cuffs and high collar with silver and green. His hair was held back, and as he moved towards the door, she could see that the clip was formed of intertwined silver snakes with glittering emerald eyes. The silver streaks stood out in his black hair, enhancing his air of dignity. It was easy to believe that this wizard had been the headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Mrs Granger-Weasley," he said, and she realised that he was examining her formal gown out of the corner of his eye.

"I hope that we meet with your approval, sir," she said demurely.

He held open the front door and bowed slightly. "Fishing for compliments already, Mrs Granger-Weasley?"

"You are our arbiter," Hermione said, locking the door and raising the wards. "I was asking your professional opinion."

"In that case," Snape said, "Miss Weasley, you have struck an excellent balance between youthful charm and the required ladylike reserve. I salute your choice."

With Fleur's assistance, Rose had selected a plain but very well cut robe against which to display the pearl necklace and ear rings. Her long dark auburn hair shone like flame on the apple-green silk. Her cheeks dimpled, and she dropped him the formal curtsey that she had been practising for days. She and Hermione had very quickly discovered how difficult that was in high heels. Snape's eyes narrowed as he turned to Hermione. He extended a hand and touched one of the curls that cascaded over her shoulders. "However, you, Madam, have as usual flouted convention, and wear your hair loose as if you were still a 'fayre maiden'."

"I may be a 'matron' but I'm no longer a 'wyve' Mr Snape," Hermione said, tossing her hair behind her back and trusting to Sleekeazy's latest technology to prevent the curls from unravelling into a mass of frizz, "I'm a widow, and being below the age of eighty, not yet a 'Beldame' and thus technically an eligible witch, I'm entitled to wear my hair as I wish. Or am I being a forward hussy in Lucius' book?"

Snape did not crack a smile, but something glinted in the depths of his eyes. "Technically, you are indeed correct, although it depends upon which of Lucius' books you peruse."

"I doubt if I'll get to peruse any of Lucius' books," Hermione said, trying to sound as if the very mention of Lucius' famous library was of zero concern to her. She had schooled herself into simply expressing mild interest every time Rose told her of the rare old volumes in the Manor's collection.

"Ah," Snape said, holding out his arm, "but you will soon be related, will you not? I'm sure that with a little judiciously applied flattery, Lucius could be convinced to flaunt his assets before you."

Rose sniggered and muttered, "I bet he would."

"Rosie, do behave! We're about to enter polite pure-blood society," Hermione told her, firmly quelling her own nervous giggle.

"Just remember," Snape said, his deep, melodic voice very suited to formal pronouncements, "that only one in ten of the witches and wizards present tonight will be thoroughly versed in the old observances, so any minor infringements will go mostly unnoticed. Greater transgressions will be put down to your being a Muggle-born and any major infraction forgiven in a hero of the war anyway. Kindly hold on while I Apparate us through the wards."

---

Hermione shook out the creases from her skirt, patted her hair to check that Sleekeazy was living up to its promise, and pasted her public smile onto her face. The limestone of Malfoy Manor glowed in the light of the setting sun. Coloured lanterns lit the approaches to the front door, and a multitude of candles gleamed in every window. An elf in a smart monogrammed tea-towel bowed to the guests, directing them to elves waiting to accept their travelling cloaks.

"You haven't been here before, have you, Mum?" Rose asked brightly, peering around at the gorgeously clad witches and wizards streaming towards the door.

"Not since the war," Hermione said.

Rose was too excited and too eager to catch sight of her fiancé to notice her mother's introspection.

Snape told her quietly, "The house has been extensively remodelled since those dark days."

A little of her tension eased as she realised that he was correct. She recognised neither the wide, oak-panelled hall nor the elegant pastel walls of the inner rooms.

Lucius, Draco, Astoria and Scorpius had lined up to greet their guests upon arrival, like characters in one of the old pre-war films that Hermione's mother had always laughed at, but secretly enjoyed.

"Hello, Mrs Malfoy, Mr Malfoy, Mr Malfoy, Scorpius," Rose said, beaming as Scorpius stepped out of line, took her hand and kissed it.

"So good of you to come," Astoria trilled.

"Would have been a complete waste of time if they hadn't," Snape pointed out.

Astoria clicked her tongue and gave him an admonitory little tap on the arm. "Severus, you're a wicked man! What a charming gown, Mrs Granger-Weasley. Rose, my dear, you look delightful. Good evening, Mrs Glendenning. Mr Glendenning, so lovely to see you again..."

"Mrs Granger-Weasley," Scorpius said, turning from Rose to bow over Hermione's hand and touch his lips to her knuckles.

She was glad that Fleur had cast manicuring charms on her fingernails.

"Thanks for being such a good sport about all this."

"You're welcome," Hermione said, and he gave his irrepressible little grin.

"See you later," he mouthed at Rose as Mr and Mrs Glendenning shook his hand and began congratulating him. "First dance is mine!"

Draco gave Hermione a cool smile, glanced at her loose hair, raised a perfect blond eyebrow, but merely said her name in a slightly bored voice. Hermione responded by looking pointedly at his receding hairline and mirroring the smile.

Lucius gazed down his nose at her and languidly held out a hand. "Splendid," he said, without making it clear what he was talking about.

"Likewise," Hermione replied. The grey eyes gained a little more animation as he looked her up and down. Hermione felt an impulse of pure mischief, and lifted her skirts in both hands to execute a perfect curtsey. "I do hope that we pass muster, Mr Malfoy, for if we don't, I fear that there is little we can do about it now."

"Indeed," he murmured, "but is this really a game that you wish to play?"

"Slytherins will bend the rules until they creak in protest," Snape said.

Hermione raised her chin. "Of course, but Gryffindors play to win."

Snape snorted, and Lucius gave him a look that combined fondness with exasperation. "How could I have forgotten?" he purred.

Snape touched Hermione's elbow to steer her on as the queue began building up behind them.

"Nicely played," Snape said as they strolled towards a distant door. Around them, Hermione could hear voices whispering, the susurrations of Snape's name carrying over the sounds of distant music and laughter.

"Snape? Is that Severus Snape?"

"I thought he'd died a long time ago!"

"It's Severus Snape!"

She realised that her anxiety must be nothing to his. She tightened her grasp upon his arm and looked around for Ginny and Harry.

---

The original Golden Trio had readily opened to embrace Ginny Weasley. As the love of Harry's life, as well as being Ron's little sister and Hermione's first real female friend, she had known them all so well. The changes brought about by careers, children and other interests had not diminished their close relationship. Ron's death had inevitably forged a new equilibrium among the remaining three. They gravitated towards each other at public events, and even the press were prepared to allow them their privacy. Photographs invariably bore captions suggesting that they were musing over the events of the war, or comforting each other at yet another reminder of their terrible loss.

Harry's expression, upon seeing Hermione approaching arm in arm with Snape, was a mixture of surprise, pleasure and guilt. Ginny simply looked like a landed fish – a beautiful red-haired fish perhaps, but totally stunned.

"My God! Are you real?" Ginny blurted once she found her voice.

"As I ever was, Mrs Potter."

Ginny looked from Snape to Harry and smacked her husband hard on the arm. "You knew!"

"Ouch! Yeah," Harry said, rubbing his bicep, "I made a promise. Sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I'd already betrayed enough of his secrets. I couldn't betray any more. It was Snape, I couldn't do that to him again."

Hermione realised that the apology was directed at her as well. She nodded in understanding. "It's all right, Harry, I'd have done the same."

Snape took a step backwards. "I shall leave the heroes to their reminiscences."

Without a second thought, Hermione reached out to his sleeve and realised that both Harry and Ginny had done exactly the same.

"You're as much a hero as any of us," Ginny said with a kind of fierce possessiveness.

"At least wait until the novelty's worn off," Harry muttered, tilting his head to indicate the crowd of interested onlookers.

"Do I look as if I need either your endorsement or your protection, Mr Potter?"

Harry blinked at him. "What? It's entirely up to you, sir, but the vultures hold off for longer if we stand together and look serious. It's what we usually do. We make rude comments about the fashions or play 'I Spy', but they all think we're having deeply intellectual conversations about the war."

Snape's lips curved in a sneer. "Of course, what else would one expect of the Chosen Chief Auror?"

Harry shrugged, with his hands in his robe pockets, displaying just a hint of the scruffy little boy whom Hermione remembered so well. "I can converse articulately about our wartime exploits if you prefer. Whoops, brace yourself, sir: here comes Auntie Min."

Minerva McGonagall, retired headmistress, walked with a stick and leaned on the arm of her old friend, Pomona Sprout, also retired. They stopped and stared. Minerva had gone quite pale. Hermione belatedly thought that she should have asked Snape's permission to give advance warning to his elderly ex-colleagues, but they were tough old witches. Minerva shrugged aside Professor Sprout's support and advanced until she and Snape were only a few feet apart.

"I could hex you to within an inch of your life!" she snapped. "Och, lad, I knew you had to have survived, but you could have had the decency to get in touch!"

"I have only recently attained a state of mind that allowed me to return, Minerva," he told her gravely. "I didn't expect anyone to be particularly concerned or distressed by my death. I apologise if I was mistaken. May I also point out that I am too many decades away from being a 'lad'?"

"Oh, Severus!" she exclaimed and threw her arms around him. Snape looked totally taken aback for a moment before his customary sneer reasserted itself.

"Be careful, people will get the wrong idea if you go around embracing Slytherins."

"Severus, you're a twit! Not to mention a very brave man and a fine actor. I'm proud to have known you." She wiped her eyes and stepped back, allowing Pomona Sprout to take her place. Professor Sprout hugged Snape with equal enthusiasm.

"A good start," Harry muttered.

"Determined to rehabilitate him, whatever he has to say about it?" Hermione asked out of the corner of her mouth.

"Absolutely." Harry waved to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The ex-Minister greeted Snape with rather less surprise and introduced him to his wife and daughters. After that came a stream of Slytherins congratulating their hero on his return. Hermione noted that they were considerably less demonstrative than the Gryffindors, but their pleasure seemed genuine enough.

A group of witches and wizards in matching robes began arranging musical instruments at one end of the largest room. Snape turned to Hermione and held out his hand. "May I have the pleasure of the first dance, Mrs Granger-Weasley?"

"Certainly, Mr Snape."

Hermione had become accustomed to the old-fashioned formality of Wizarding society over the years, but she still felt like a character from a Jane Austen novel. She glimpsed Hugo with a wide-eyed girl, her rather revealing cocktail dress suggesting that her son was sticking to his declared intent of going out with Muggle-borns. Scorpius, impeccable as always, led out Rose, followed by Draco and Astoria, and then almost all the guests spilled onto the floor for the first waltz.

Snape leaned close to murmur against Hermione's hair. "I fear that I have put Lucius' nose out of joint. He clearly intended to ask you for the first dance."

Sure enough, Lucius Malfoy was watching with a discontented expression. He turned away as soon as Hermione caught his eye.

"Does that mean I have to dance with him?"

"Of course, since he's the host and you're Rose's mother. Tradition dictates that he should ask you, even if you were accompanied by a partner or spouse. He's an excellent dancer; you needn't fear for your toes."

Snape was pretty adept himself: Hermione had no problem following him even in her high heels.

"I suppose I should get it over with in that case. Will you come and rescue me later on?"

"Story of my life," he said and she laughed, and his answering smile, small and private and slightly wry, made something unfamiliar flutter inside her chest.

---

Bill and Fleur attended the ball. George and Angelina accompanied Audrey, who made an excuse about Percy having to work late, which no one believed. The younger Weasleys and Potters turned up en masse to support Rose and Scorpius.

Hermione found herself enveloped in a hug by a wildly excited Malcolm. "Have you seen that?" he groaned, indicating the three Malfoy males, standing together for a moment as an elf refilled their wine-glasses. "They breed true, don't they? Gorgeous!"

"Straight," she said.

"I know, I know, love, don't remind me. Oh, excuse me, I spy another old friend!" He darted away to embrace Pansy Fotheringhay, née Parkinson, who had recently replaced Rita Skeeter as the Daily Prophet's society columnist.

Lucius said something to Snape, and then came directly towards Hermione. She raised her chin, willing her heart rate not to speed up. She ought not to be afraid of him; the old snake had had his fangs drawn. He could no longer harm her, but she always felt that he sensed her nervousness and was amused by it.

"May I have the next dance, Mrs Granger-Weasley?"

She nodded, holding out her hand. His fingers were cool and dry. She assumed that dancing with him would be like dancing with Snape, but it wasn't, not quite. Snape was a good dancer: she had felt safe with him, confident that he would not make a fool of her or allow her to make mistakes. Snape made her feel that he knew what he was doing. Lucius Malfoy was superb. He made her feel that she knew what she was doing. When she told him so, he inclined his head and gave her a little sidelong look, as if checking that she was not making fun of him. She realised that he was only a man, not a monster, and that he was just a little nervous. She smiled at him then. His pale eyebrows rose in enquiry.

"I was wondering," she said before her nerve failed, "if it would be possible to visit your library?"

"I was wondering when you would ask," he responded, twirling her lightly.

She felt like Ginger Rogers dancing with Fred Astaire. "I'm asking now. May I?"

"I'm sure that something can be arranged."

After he returned her to the table where the Potters were sitting, she flopped down next to Ginny.

"God," she sighed, checking that they could not be easily overheard, "I need to be careful! I could almost get to like him."

Harry laughed and poured her a glass of Château Bonfoi champagne. "I know what you mean." He lifted a shoulder towards the Malfoys, and Hermione realised that Draco was coming in their direction.

"Lovely champagne," Ginny said.

Draco gave a little nod in acknowledgement. "Potter, you owe me a favour."

"I do," Harry admitted after a long pause. "What are you after this time, Malfoy?"

"Tickets for Scorpius and myself."

"The Ashes at Lords?"

"That would be satisfactory."

"I'll ask Dudley to look into it."

Much to Hermione's and Ginny's amusement, when their children were young, Harry's cousin Dudley had introduced them and Harry to the wonders of Test cricket. Albus took Scorpius to a couple of matches, so Draco went along to check out the highly suspicious Muggle activity to which his son was gaining a serious addiction. Since Draco was reluctant to admit that a teenaged boy knew more than he did about anything, he had made an effort to understand the rules of the game and was hooked – completely against his better judgement, of course. Whenever England played at home against Australia for the Ashes, they were cheered on by a crowd of assorted Potters and Weasleys, often accompanied by Draco and Scorpius, and Dudley Dursley with his sons.

"An extra ticket wouldn't go amiss," Draco drawled, "if you can manage it."

"Your dad?" Harry asked in astonishment.

Draco sneered. "Don't be dense, Potter; he still finds the whole idea preposterous."

"More likely terrifying," Ginny whispered to Hermione.

"Severus would like to come," Draco said loftily, saluting Harry with his champagne flute.

"England wouldn't dare lose with Snape scowling from the stand," Harry said, grinning. "Are we still on for the Merlin Handicap meeting on Saturday?"

"No, damn it! Witching Hour pulled a muscle in her wing in training, so I had to withdraw her. My trainer won't let her race for at least another two weeks. Scorpius thinks we should retire her and put her to Athromancer, see if we can get a decent foal from her, but we'll see. She isn't quite what I look for in a brood mare, a bit on the fine side."

"But fast," Harry said. "Look at what she's won."

"All short races, Potter; she hasn't the staying power for anything much over fifty furlongs. She's a sprinter, and I prefer horses that're in for the long haul."

Rose and Scorpius appeared while Harry and Draco were still arguing about whether amateur point-to-point race wins were good indicators of a Granian's stamina. Rose glowed with happiness while Scorpius looked endearingly flushed and proud at her side. They seemed so terribly young.

"I note the absence of Molly and Arthur," a deep voice remarked above Hermione's ear. She looked up at Snape's unmistakable profile.

"Yes, they obviously decided that, at their age, formal balls are just too tiring."

"Of course," he murmured, "how unfortunate."

"If you tried hard, you might sound as if you meant that," Ginny said. "We all know why they're not here."

"But only Gryffindors would point it out, Mrs Potter."

"I'm not really that crass, Mr Snape, I just like winding Slytherins up." She beamed at him, and Scorpius laughed.

"Al and I always thought we were getting one over on Mr and Mrs Potter," he told Snape, "it was years before we realised that they were letting us get away with the small stuff to keep us amused and to prevent us trying anything really evil." He turned to Rose. "The Stomping Trolls are playing in five minutes on the terrace; d'you want to come and grab a spot at the front?"

They hurried off, holding hands.

"They don't even know what real evil is," Harry said, looking at Draco. "We've done all right, haven't we?"

"Don't get too complacent, Potter," Draco told him, "Who knows what the next generation might produce? Do excuse me: I believe that my wife requires my input."

He went to confer with Astoria, Daphne and a group of Malfoy elves who had been levitating bottles of wine to the tables.

"They're playing a foxtrot," Ginny said hopefully, at which Harry rolled his eyes and allowed her to drag him off to the dance floor.

"The choice appears to consist of ballroom dancing in here, card games for high stakes in the next room, or cacophonous music outside," Snape said. He sounded bored, but he was watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye. "Lucius wondered if you would care to join us for a glass or two in the library."

"Do you really need to ask?"

---

The library was cool and dark after the brightly lit ballroom. Only a candelabrum on the mantelpiece cast a sphere of muted golden light. The fireplace was filled with roses and lilies, their perfume mingling with beeswax furniture polish and the dry, addictive scent of old books. Lucius lounged in a leather armchair with his ankles crossed on the hearthrug, a glass in his hand. He indicated the two chairs opposite.

"You were right, Severus," he remarked, "this is a very pleasant Cabernet Sauvignon. It doesn't have quite the depth of an elf-made wine, of course, but I like the balanced berry and oak flavours with the hint of anise; they can only be improved upon by the elves. Where is it from?"

"California," Snape said.

"Hm, interesting. Is Draco intending to invest in the colonies?"

Snape chuckled as he took his seat. "Don't let the Americans hear you call them that."

Lucius shrugged. "If I was ever to emigrate, I assure you that it would be no further than Italy, so they would never know. Do help yourselves to the wine, or there is a decent port in the decanter, or a cognac if you prefer. Will you plant a vineyard in California, Severus?"

For some reason, Hermione found herself holding her breath and waiting for Snape's response.

"I had considered moving, but if we do invest, we will employ an agent in the states. I doubt if Ramsbottom would approve of America."

"Have you always owned an elf?" Hermione asked, accepting a glass of the deep red wine from Snape. She sank into a chair, her aching feet grateful for the respite as she eased off her shoes.

"I inherited him," Snape said, filling his own glass. "My great-uncle, the last of the Princes, ran a small business importing elf-made wine. He was killed in an attack upon Diagon Alley towards the end of the war. Because Edward Prince died without issue, his elf was left homeless. Ramsbottom made his way to Hogwarts to seek me out. Being of a suspicious nature, he followed me around for a while rather than making his presence known. When Lucius sent me to the Shack on the Dark Lord's orders, the old elf spied upon all of us."

Snape looked at Hermione, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk. "He saw the three of you leave me lying in my blood. He waited until you had gone, then he plugged the wounds, applied the potions from my first aid kit and restarted my heart with a jolt of magic. He tells me that he was undecided what to do with me at first, but Potter's impassioned defence of my character convinced him that I should be fully resuscitated and hidden away from my remaining enemies. He had noted that the Malfoys were distressed upon hearing the news of my death, so he informed them where I was. They ensured that I was nursed back to health."

"You know how much I regretted my naivety," Hermione said softly. "So have you owned Ramsbottom ever since?"

The smirk widened. "I regularly offer him clothes, but he insists upon remaining with me to ensure that I don't become too complacent. He's well-versed in the production, transport, valuation and sale of fine wine, so it made sense to utilise his expertise. Once I had recovered, Draco, Ramsbottom and I all went into business together. Draco's initial investment and business acumen, together with the old elf's experience, and my skill with potions and charms, resulted in 'Château Bonfoi Elf-made Wines' and a fair standard of living for all of us." He raised his glass. "I owe my life to Ramsbottom. He ensures that I never forget it."

Malfoy sipped his wine. "Owing a life debt to an elf has always seemed a rather dicey situation to me," he muttered.

"The precedent is to offer the elf freedom, thus relieving the debt," Hermione said, "but as he doesn't want to accept clothes, there isn't much that Severus can do. Anyway, Ramsbottom was legally owned by Severus at the time, even if Severus didn't know it. Saving his master's life would be no more likely to incur a life debt than if a parent saved their child, or an Auror saved the life of someone whom they were protecting as a part of their job."

"That has always been a matter for some debate," Malfoy said smoothly. "I recall a discussion in the Wizengamot about a similar situation where an Auror was instructed to protect someone but failed in their duty."

"It always seemed strange to me, that a person should be owed a life debt for saving a life, but there's no life debt incurred for killing someone. Shouldn't the family of a murdered person be owed a life debt?" Hermione asked softly. "They ought to be owed a life by the murderer, of course, but would they also be owed a life by the Auror who failed to save them?"

Malfoy shifted in his seat. Hermione heard the silk of his robes rub softly against the leather upholstery. "The elephant in the room," she remarked. She glanced from one wizard to the other. Each raised an eyebrow; the gesture eerily mirrored by a jet black brow and a silvery-blond one. She wondered if Snape had initially copied the affectation from his older friend. "Muggle saying," she explained.

"Mrs Granger-Weasley," Malfoy said stiffly, "my family acknowledges the debt incurred."

What was she supposed to say? Acutely uncomfortable, Hermione shook her head. "There's no debt, Mr Malfoy. My husband failed to save your wife."

"But he gave his own life in the attempt."

"We each lost one of our own. In that, we're equal."

Malfoy inclined his head, his hair falling forward in a sheer, silken curtain to hide his expression.

Hermione was sorry, now, for the unkind things the Weasleys had said about the Malfoys in the first agony of their grief. Intensely protective of her family, Molly blamed the entire House of the Snake for the loss of her two brothers and two sons. The feud between the Malfoys and Weasleys went back generations, and Molly had been raised to regard her husband's enemies as her own. Her grandchildren had attempted to convince her that Scorpius was no more evil than Al, but Molly was having none of it. "Malfoy by name, of bad faith by nature," she said darkly. She considered that Narcissa Malfoy was as much to blame for Ron's death as the wizards who had cursed him, pointing out that Narcissa had known that she was a target and had no need to go out in public. "She could have sent an elf!" Molly protested to anyone who would listen – at which stage Hermione beat a hasty retreat before she said something she might regret.

Hermione had mourned Ron, but they had been contented together, rather than happy. She still missed him for his optimism, for the way he had always been able to make her laugh, and for the warmth of his body at her side. He had died doing the job that he loved, and she could regret nothing that had brought her the two children whom she adored.

In her current state of near-inebriation, Hermione could not oppose a marriage that brought her to this library. The books called out all around her with their seductive, parchment-scented magic. She would consider handing over Hugo as well if she could only get her hands on those books. Damn it, as far as she was concerned, Malfoy could have his way with the entire Weasley family!

What she actually said was, "How on earth do you get your hair to do that?"

Snape went into a paroxysm of coughing as a mouthful of Cabernet Sauvignon went down the wrong way. Malfoy spent a few moments conjuring a glass of water and siphoning up the spilt wine before it irreparably stained the carpet.

Once they were settled again, Snape refilled their glasses. "Lucius is no more likely to reveal his hair-care secrets than he is to allow you to access his secret wine cellar."

"You mean the one that my friends don't know about?" Lucius enquired smoothly.

"I mean the one that Draco doesn't know about."

Lucius went still for just a second, and then he laughed lightly. "My dear Severus, you're giving away all my secrets."

"A spy needs to keep in practice; one never knows when one's particular talents might be required."

"You can tell me; I'm going to be family," Hermione pointed out.

"So you are," Lucius agreed. Tiny laughter lines appeared at the edges of his eyes and mouth as he smiled, and rather than aging him, they made him appear more human and approachable. "Although, speaking of family, perhaps someone had better go and check up on the younger elements and make sure that nothing untoward is happening out in the shrubbery."

He angled a narrow-eyed look at Snape who did not move. "My days of blasting miscreants out of the rosebushes are long past. You have a platoon of elves, Lucius: send them."

"The task requires a human touch."

"Not mine, it doesn't." Snape's expression was mulish, and Hermione realised, with a little frisson, that he was reluctant to leave her alone with Lucius Malfoy. Surely, he did not mistrust his old friend? Or was he jealous? The frisson grew into quite a tremor at that thought.

"Reluctant as I am to leave without touching a single book," Hermione said, "perhaps we should both go? I'm one of 'ye matrons, beldames and wyves' after all, so I'm responsible for making sure that the little darlings aren't indulging in behaviour unbecoming to innocent maids."

Sure enough, Snape's sullen demeanour immediately cleared. "They could be shagging like bunnies for all I care," he sighed, but he got to his feet. Hermione pulled on her shoes, and he held out a hand to assist her back onto her perilous heels. "Don't you have a charm to keep your balance on those?" he enquired.

Malfoy clicked his tongue. "Severus, Mrs Granger-Weasley is a refreshingly natural creature who doesn't require scaffolding charms to enhance her natural assets."

Hermione wondered how many glasses of Californian red she had actually drunk. The heels felt very high indeed. Snape tucked her hand under his arm.

"Let us go and terrify the canoodling couples out of the bushes. I shall see you later, Lucius." He swept the slightly unsteady Hermione out of the room.

Her last glimpse was of Lucius Malfoy folding his arms and staring after them with narrowed eyes.