sugar & spice

epilogue

"It's not too late, you know."

Hermione paused, setting her folded jumper aside. "What's not too late?"

Arms crossed, Ron nudged one of the packed boxes with the toe of his boot. "Plenty of things. You could still change your name, enter the protected person's service, move to...I don't know, Guam?"

"Guam?" she asked, lips twitching. "Why in heaven's sake would I move to Guam, Ron?"

Ron groaned. "It's Malfoy Manor. Anything beats that."

She tsked. "Stop it. I'll have you know, Narcissa did a lovely job-"

"Redecorating, yes, you've said." He wrinkled his nose. "Doesn't mean I'm keen on visiting you there."

"Too bad." Setting a stack of jumpers in the trunk, she shut the lid and triple checked the closet. That was the last of her clothing, the last of...all of it. "You promised."

"Yeah, yeah." Ron scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. "Just want to make sure you're sure. You are sure, aren't you?"

More than anything. "I am. I swear."

Ron sighed and nodded his head at her trunk. "That the last of it?"

She wasn't bringing much, didn't have much to bring that she hadn't already dropped off straight from Hogwarts. Just some clothing, a few keepsakes that fit in two boxes, and her books. All her books, granted, but together, they'd be able to haul it all through the Floo in one trip. It was so little that it wasn't even worth it to shrink it down. A good thing, seeing as they were all achy and exhausted from hauling Ginny's many belongings through to Grimmauld all morning. Unlike Hermione, moving her things had taken multiple trips, and Molly had only gotten more distraught with each box and trunk took through the fireplace. Uncomfortable was putting it lightly, uncomfortable in more ways than one. Poor Neville was laid up in the spare bedroom, sleeping off a pain draught after pulling a muscle in his back from overdoing it.

"That's it." She nodded. With a flick of her wand, the trunk lifted and floated through the door and down the stairs ahead of them.

"-and so fairies like blonds?" Harry's head was cocked to the side as he goggled at Luna who simply nodded.

Across the room, Theo-who'd learned better-shook his head and made an abrupt gesture in front of his throat, mouthing the words, "Cut it out."

"Oh yes. Changelings are nearly always fair-haired," Luna replied, none the wiser to Theo's actions.

Harry opened his mouth, shut it, and tried again. "Luna, no offense then but do ever wonder-"

"All finished!" Hermione interrupted. "How are things down here? Everyone's getting along?"

From the far end of the sofa, with one ankle crossed casually over his knee, Draco snorted. "No one's been maimed if that's what you're asking."

"Yet," Harry added, smirking slightly. "No one's been maimed yet."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You talk a big talk, Potter, but don't act like you didn't invite me to play pick-up Quidditch."

"The Department of Mysteries' seeker disappeared," Harry protested. "If they don't have a substitute next week, our game's forfeit."

"Doesn't negate the fact that you needed a seeker and you came to me. I'm doing you a favor."

Harry scoffed. "It's not a favor. If anything I'm doing you one by inviting you to play. Did you stop to think I invited you because I know I'm better than you?"

"Interesting. Let me get this straight, either you're afraid of a challenge, or you need me." Draco smiled. "It's one or the other, take your pick."