Draco stepped out of the green Floo flames into the familiar manor of his old friend, Blaise. Still dressed in his work robes, he stood waiting, nodding in greeting before wordlessly leading Draco into the kitchen. Draco opened his mouth to speak but stopped short at the sight before him. His wife and Blaise's wife, Pansy, were hunched over the kitchen island, wine glasses in hand, giggling like schoolgirls. Their laughter bubbled through the room, threatening to spill their nearly full glasses with every jostled movement. Draco moved closer, noting the rosy flush on his wife’s cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, and how her hair gleamed under the kitchen lights. Her smile, radiant and carefree, tugged one from him despite himself.

“They’ve been like this since I got home,” Blaise said dryly, arms crossed. “Giggling like children. You’d think we could trust them not to get wine-drunk while we were at work. I asked what was so funny, next thing I know, they’re whispering and laughing at me.” Draco stepped behind his wife, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Darling,” he said softly, “I hate to interrupt all this fun, but I think it’s time I took you home.”