A Mad Reunion ✔️

4|Invited

Nineteen Years Later

"MUM!" YELLED CARINA MALFOY. "Mail's here!"

"Coming," answered Hermione, making her way down the stairs with a one-year-old in one arm and laundry basket in the other. She sighed in exasperation when she noticed her husband sitting at the table, reading the paper. "Really? You couldn't have looked at the mail instead of making me walk down here? I nearly fell down the stairs with my arms full."

Draco glanced up. "Sorry, I just figured that you'd use magic to send down the laundry." Hermione glanced down at her pocket where she kept her wand, and sighed. Draco laughed. "Honestly, it's like you forget that you're a witch sometimes."

"You," Hermione told Draco, handing him the baby, "Watch Scorpius. Where's the mail, Carina?" The girl handed the stack of papers to her mother, who shuffled through them until she came across an envelope with a familiar seal. "What?"

"Something wrong?" asked Draco.

"It's a letter from Hogwarts." Draco looked up from his paper, perplexed.

"That can't be right. Carina doesn't go to school for another year." Curious, Hermione opened the envelope.

Dear Ms. Granger,

This year is your graduating class's twenty-year reunion. I am hoping that you will be able to attend, as it will be great to have all three parts of the Golden Trio at this reunion, as well as catching up with one of my best students after all these years. It will be held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on 12 July, 2019.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonogall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hermione shuffled through the rest of the mail, until she came upon another Hogwarts letter. She handed it to Draco.

Mr. Malfoy:

This year is your graduating class's twenty-year reunion. We are hoping for you to join us at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on 12 July, 2019.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonogall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

Draco looked up at Hermione. "Is yours the same?"

"Basically."

"We going?"

"We'll have to find someone to watch the kids."

Draco sighed. "I'll take that as a yes."

"You know, Professor McGonogall mentioned in the letter that Harry and Ron would be there, even though they didn't graduate with us. Or at all."

"Well, of course. You can't host a reunion without The-Boy-Who-Couldn't-Die and his sidekick, the Red Weasel."

"I think I'll see if that girl Émilie who lives across the street can watch the children," Hermione decided, ignoring her husband. "Yeah, she's a good babysitter." Hermione looked over at Draco, who nodded, and grabbed her cellphone to call Émilie.

Neither Hermione nor Draco had parents, Hermione's having died in the car crash and Draco's having died in Azkaban. That meant they had to hire babysitters a lot, since both had busy jobs and Draco loved taking Hermione on fancy dates.

Hermione and Draco had worked at the Ministry a few years before Draco asked her on a date when they were twenty-three. They were together for three years before Draco asked Hermione to marry him. They were wedded in Paris, just the two of them, a couple of paid witnesses, and the priest, and decided to live there afterwards. Hermione had given birth to their oldest daughter, Carina, when she was twenty-nine. Now they had three children, Carina, who was ten, Lyra, who was seven, and Scorpius, who was one. Their children spoke both English and French.

Hermione and Draco now co-owned Malfoy Industries, the business Draco had inherited when his parents died. They got to travel the world a lot because of that. Neither had seen any of their old friends in a long time, except for Blaise Zabini, who worked for them and was their good friend. He had finally settled down and married a few years ago to a French witch named Abella, and they had a three-year-old named Ada.

Hermione went to the phone and rung up their neighbor. Draco could hear her chatting in rapid French, and could have sworn he heard Emilié's rather shrill-pitched through the phone. As Hermione began discussing details with Émilie, Draco couldn't help but to grin at his wife's brisk manner, and the way that she talked with her hands, even though she was on the phone.

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DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.