Chapter 4
The breaking point came late one night, when the tension between Hermione and Pansy finally snapped. They had been arguing—about something trivial, something neither of them could remember afterward—but the argument had spiraled into something deeper, something that neither of them had been ready to confront.
“You’re afraid,” Hermione had said, her voice trembling with frustration. “You hide behind this mask of indifference, but I can see it, Pansy. I see you.” Pansy’s eyes had flashed with anger. “You don’t know anything about me.” “I know more than you think,” Hermione had shot back, her heart pounding in her chest. “I know that you’re scared. Scared of what this is. Scared of what you feel.”
For a moment, Pansy had been silent, her jaw clenched, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Then, without warning, she had turned on her heel and stormed out of the common room, leaving Hermione standing there, breathless and shaking. Hours passed, but Hermione couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about the look in Pansy’s eyes, the raw emotion she had tried so hard to hide. Something had broken between them, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it could be repaired. Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, Hermione threw on her cloak and left the Slytherin dormitory. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to find Pansy. She needed to fix this.
She found her in the Astronomy Tower, staring out at the darkened landscape of the castle grounds. The wind whipped through Pansy’s hair, and when she turned to face Hermione, her expression was unreadable.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Pansy said, her voice hollow. “I don’t want anything from you,” Hermione said, stepping closer. “I just want you to stop pushing me away.” Pansy’s eyes flashed again, but this time with something other than anger. “I’m not like you, Hermione. I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.” Hermione’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in Pansy’s voice. She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind Pansy’s ear. “You don’t have to know how. We can figure it out together.”
For a moment, Pansy just stared at her, the walls she had built around herself crumbling. Then, slowly, she leaned forward, her forehead resting against Hermione’s. The tension between them dissolved, replaced by a quiet understanding, a promise of something more. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Pansy whispered. Hermione smiled softly, her fingers brushing against Pansy’s cheek. “You won’t.”
As the weeks passed, Hermione and Pansy’s relationship deepened, though they kept it hidden from the rest of the school. The secrecy was suffocating at times, but it also added an element of excitement—stolen kisses in dark corners, late-night conversations in the empty library, the thrill of knowing that what they had was theirs and theirs alone.
But even as they grew closer, the outside world continued to press in. The wizarding world, still reeling from the aftermath of the war, was a dangerous place, and pure-blood politics were more treacherous than ever. Hermione knew that if their relationship were discovered, it would be seen as a scandal—a betrayal of everything the Malfoy name stood for. And yet, for the first time in her life, Hermione didn’t care. She was done pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
EPILOGUE
The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall oak trees that lined the edge of the garden, casting dappled shadows over the lush green grass. Laughter filled the air, light and carefree, as Posie, a bundle of boundless energy, chased after a butterfly with all the determination her seven-year-old body could muster. Her brown curls bounced wildly as she ran, and her giggles were infectious.
Hermione leaned against the stone railing of their back porch, watching her youngest daughter with a smile that was both fond and amused. Posie had been unexpected, arriving years after they thought their family was complete, but she had been loved from the moment they’d learned of her. She had become the heart of their household, bringing an exuberant joy that neither Hermione nor Pansy had realized they needed.
"She's going to catch that butterfly one day," Pansy said with a smirk, stepping up beside Hermione. Her dark hair, now flecked with the faintest hints of silver, was tied back in a loose bun, and she looked out over the garden with the same critical eye she had always had. But her gaze softened as it lingered on their children. "Or wear herself out trying," Hermione chuckled. "She never gives up, does she?" Pansy shook her head, her lips curving into a smile. "No, she doesn't. A bit like her mother, don't you think?" Hermione nudged her playfully. "Which one?" "Both," Pansy said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She looped an arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her close, and the two of them stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching their youngest child twirl through the garden.
A soft breeze ruffled the pages of an old, leather-bound book that sat on a table nearby, where their seventeen-year-old daughter, Rose, was sprawled out, lost in her studies. Her long hair, darker and sleeker than Hermione's, was tucked behind her ears as she flipped through the book with the focused intensity of someone deep in thought. Hermione often saw herself in Rose—the same thirst for knowledge, the same determination to understand the world around her. But there was something of Pansy in Rose, too—an edge of cunning, a sharpness to her that Hermione knew would serve her well in the world.
“Still buried in those books, I see,” Pansy teased, glancing over at Rose. She lifted her head, rolling her eyes with a smile that was equal parts affection and exasperation. “It’s called studying, Mum. I’ve got my N.E.W.T.s in a few months. Not that some people would know the meaning of hard work.” Pansy raised an eyebrow. “Please, I worked harder avoiding detention than you ever have with those exams.” Hermione chuckled. “That’s not exactly something to be proud of.” “I beg to differ,” Pansy said with a smirk, kissing Hermione’s temple.
Rose shook her head, but her lips twitched into a smile. She loved teasing her parents, and they knew she adored them just as much.
And then, from the far end of the garden, came the sound of footsteps—steady, confident, and familiar. Ted, their eldest, appeared from the path that led to the front of the house, his tall frame casting a long shadow as he strolled toward them. At twenty, Ted had grown into a striking young man, his black hair tousled and windswept, his eyes sharp and bright with an easy charm he’d inherited from Pansy. But there was a thoughtfulness to him, a depth that Hermione had always admired, and it often reminded her of the way Harry had been at that age.
“Hey,” Ted called, flashing them a grin. “How’s everyone?” Posie immediately abandoned her butterfly chase and bolted toward her brother with a shriek of delight. “Teddy!” Ted scooped her up with ease, spinning her around as she giggled uncontrollably. “You’re getting way too big for this, you know,” he teased, but Posie only giggled louder, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Never!” she declared, her eyes shining with mischief. “You’re my Teddy, and I can always be little with you.”
Ted laughed, setting her down gently, then ruffled her curls before turning to join his mothers on the porch. “How was work?” Hermione asked, her brow raised in curiosity. Ted had recently started an apprenticeship at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and although it was early days, Hermione could see how much he was growing into the role. “Good,” Ted said, shrugging as if it were no big deal, but the pride in his voice was unmistakable. “They’re starting to give me real cases. Small stuff, but it’s something.” “Small steps lead to big things,” Hermione said, beaming. “I’m proud of you.” Ted’s cheeks flushed slightly, though he tried to hide it with a casual grin. “Thanks, Mum.” Pansy, ever the pragmatic one, simply gave him a once-over and nodded approvingly. “Just don’t get yourself killed before you make a name for yourself. We’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Hermione shot her a mock-scandalized look, but Ted just laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the garden, Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of peace settle over her. Their family was unconventional, sure, but it was theirs—full of love, laughter, and the occasional bit of chaos. Pansy, who had once been an enemy, a rival, was now her rock, her partner in everything. Together, they had built a life that neither of them could have imagined back at Hogwarts. Rose stood up, stretching as she tucked her book under her arm, her mind already moving to the next challenge ahead. Ted dropped onto the porch steps, Posie settling comfortably in his lap, still chattering about her day as he listened with the same quiet patience he always showed her.
Hermione leaned into Pansy, their fingers intertwining as they watched their children—three completely different individuals, but each perfect in their own way. Their journey together had been unexpected, just like Posie, but it was a journey Hermione wouldn’t have traded for anything. “We did good, didn’t we?” Pansy murmured, her voice soft in the twilight. Hermione smiled, resting her head on Pansy’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she whispered. “We did.”
As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, the Malfoy-Granger-Parkinson family sat together, surrounded by the love they had created—a love that was unexpected, unconventional, but absolutely perfect.