Objects of Desire

Chapter 20 - All Things Must Pass

By Azrael Geffen

It never seemed to matter how much warning they received, exams always seemed to catch the Hogwarts student body by surprise. Despite NEWTS being the most important exams of the Hogwarts curriculum, the night before exams started was the same as any other year. The South East Tower was filled with the stench of sweat and desperation from students who were hopelessly under-prepared for what was about to come.   

Behind a large stack of books Lavender Brown was aching to bang her head on the table and do herself an injury rather than face the prospect of the following day. On the other side of the books, calmly facing the large open windows and with her feet comfortably resting on the widow sill, Hermione was uncharacteristically calm. She reclined in her comfortable chair and gazed out into the warm sky which had darkened slightly into twilight. It was her favourite time of the day, that strange time between day and night. Her calm exterior masked the true terror inside her. For the first time in her life she had no fear of exams, she knew what she needed to know, she was not fooling herself into thinking that she would possibly fail. What worried her had little to do with school work. For the first time in her life Hermione Granger was unconcerned with school grades. She could walk out of Hogwarts tomorrow without ever sitting exams and still she would be unconcerned by this part of her future. At that moment the worry that filled her was just how she was going to tell her parents about her child and imminent marriage. But this worried was masked effectively, a by-product of her latest favourite food. Potatoes, done any way, with plenty of butter and salt. 

Today they were boiled new potatoes that Dobby had dug up out of the remains of Hagrid’s vegetable garden. She smiled down at the bowl dreamily. The potatoes were swimming in butter and the salt was actually crystallizing over the top. 

Never before had she craved salt as she did now, and it didn’t seem to matter how often Lavender and Minerva told her not to pour it over everything, she could not seem to help herself. She had joked that had she not had her salt she doubted that she would have coped with the past month. What with Harry and Severus both being hauled off to Azkaban after being accused of murdering Archibald Semeuse. They had not stayed there long before they were cleared, but it had been a tense few days and both had looked decidedly haggard when they returned to the school. Arthur Weasley had flown into a panic about just what to do with Lucius Malfoy who had landed in Dumbledore’s office in Harry’s arms like some kind of unwanted growth. Lucius was here, hidden somewhere in the castle until Arthur Weasley and Cornelius Fudge could come to some kind of agreement about just what to do with the ex Death Eater. Hermione had seen him before he had been hidden away and had been surprised by her own reaction. It seemed that once she saw the attraction of one older man the rest just sort of fell into place. He was gaunt and wasted to be sure, but she could finally see just what everyone had raved about. Severus said that it was the Angel inside him rather than the man himself, Hermione hoped that was true. 

“Err…Hermione?” 

Hermione jumped, as though whoever had disturbed her could see straight into her brain and guess her thoughts and she felt herself blush a little at the idea of being caught thinking about Lucius Malfoy. She forced a smile to cover her embarrassment and looked expectantly at Susan Bones who was standing awkwardly by the side of her armchair. Hermione frowned a small frown. Susan had seemingly taken Lavender’s vacated position in what Hermione had dubbed the “Bitch Brigade” some years before. She looked back at the rest of the girls who were watching Susan eagerly and Hermione felt herself shudder.  “Hi…Susan…what’s up?” 

“We’re friends, right?” 

Hermione once again cast a glance at the other girls. They were notorious gossips. Hermione had been horrified when she had been given Lavender as a room mate for that very reason. She had lived in dread once Lavender had found out about Severus – but it seemed that Lavender had gladly relinquished her position in the Bitch Brigade and Susan had stepped into them with little thought at all. Hermione looked at her with a hearty dose of cynicism and said, “Yes, of course we’re friends, Susan, why?” 

“Well, you’d want me to tell you something…if I thought something was wrong…or I was worried about you…right?” 

Hermione hesitated and wondered what was coming. “Are you worried about me, Susan?” she asked cautiously. 

“Well yes…you see…” Susan shuffled from foot to foot and looked back to her friends who all appeared to be leaning forward waiting to hear something. “It’s just that, well, I…we…have noticed that you have been…well…eating…a lot lately…” 

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up and disappeared beneath her fringe. 

“And we’ve noticed that you have been putting on a little weight…” 

A hot blush began to crawl up the back of Hermione’s neck and she set the bowl of potatoes aside. 

Lavender’s face suddenly appeared over her stack of books. “Fuck Susan! What the hell are you on about?” She looked from the fast recoiling red head to the two girls perched eagerly on the settee across the room. “It’s none of you business what she eats! Don’t you have exams to study for? Do you cows have nothing better to do with your time?” 

“Lav, it’s alright,” Hermione said quietly. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look at anyone and her hand found its way instinctively to the small mound of her belly and the soft bubbling feeling coming from within. She felt again that she just wanted the year to end so that she could stop hiding her pregnancy. She just wanted to get to the Fenn and settle into her life. 

“It’s not alright,” Lavender insisted. “You haven’t put on weight!” 

Hermione gave her a warning glare. It was true that she had not put on much weight, but her breasts had swelled considerably and beneath her robes they made her look larger than she actually was. 

Lavender was not in the mood to be put off however and she glared balefully at Susan. Susan in turn ran red to the roots of her hair and then turned and fled back to her friends. Lavender then turned her concern to Hermione who was shaking her head with a rueful smile. 

“They’re your friends,” Hermione pointed out. 

“They’re doughy fucking cows,” Lavender grumbled. She returned the bowl of potatoes back to Hermione’s lap. “Don’t listen to them, a couple of weeks and you won’t have to see them again. Besides, the book says that you can eat what ever you want as long as it is healthy.” 

Hermione looked at the dubious concoction of butter and salt. “I think I’m going to burn that book,” she said. 

“Don’t you dare, Madam Mimsby is the only guide we have.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. Lavender had decided to become an encyclopedia of pregnancy and was constantly sprouting quotations from Madam Mimsby’s authoritative guide “Bringing up Wizards.” She was a little disconcerted that no one else seemed interested in reading it and finding out just what to expect. She had even contemplated going to Severus and asking him to read it as Hermione seemed to be hiding her head in the sand. 

“Do you want help with Herbology?” Hermione asked, pointing her fork at the book in Lavender’s hand. 

“No, I’m fine, you just relax there.” Lavender disappeared again, ducking behind her books and trying to absorb herself again in study. 

Hermione returned to her potatoes and tried to find where she was with her thoughts. Lucius Malfoy. She shook her head to remove him, but that seemed only to conjure up just how she was going to tell her parents. She didn’t know why she was so fearful of the task. Her parents had never shown her anything but support and her logic told her that this would be no exception – but deep down there was a nagging doubt. She feared that they would be disappointed with her choices. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to relax. 

Hermione had spent most of her day down in the dungeons lying in bed studying and she was glad that she’d had the chance to do so. Severus was down in Hogsmeade with Minerva having dinner and Hermione was content to spend her evenings in the common room, but she found she could not study here; it was as though the desperation and fear of everyone else was contagious and she couldn’t concentrate on her books. She liked sitting in her favourite chair staring out the window and found that Lavender was good company, even when she wasn’t talking. 

Harry was another matter. Harry had not been good company for anyone for the last four weeks. Hermione knew he was in the common room well before he said anything; she’d recognise the sound of his dragging feet anywhere.   

Harry dumped half a dozen books onto the table beside Lavender’s pile before dislodging Hermione’s feet from the window sill and hoisting himself onto it. For the briefest of seconds Hermione panicked, thinking that he was about to hurl himself out into the abyss and she wondered just how fast she could get her wand out to slow his fall. But Harry did not jump; he sat down on the sill and faced her, looking utterly miserable. 

“You really need to shave,” Hermione told him and lifted her foot into his lap. He absently began to massage the foot, as though he didn’t even know that he was doing the task. “Where have you been?” she asked, trying to drawn him out. 

“The Library,” Harry sniffled. He had been fighting a low grade cold for at least two weeks and Hermione wished he would go to Madam Pomfrey and get something for it. The fact was that he probably just needed some bed rest. 

“All day?” Hermione asked, knowing he hadn’t been in the library at all that day, or at least not during the actual day light hours. 

“No,” Harry admitted, “I spent most of the day sitting on Draco’s doorstep hoping he’d let me in.” 

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione set her potatoes aside again, realising that she was not going to get to eat them. 

“I went to the hospital,” Harry continued, “and he’d discharged himself, so I went to the manor and the House Elf wouldn’t let me in.”   

“So you sat there?” 

“Yep.” 

“Harry…” Hermione hesitated and had to set her face into a determined look before continuing, “Harry, if he doesn’t want to see you…then perhaps you should leave him alone.” 

Harry dropped her foot. “What? Just like that? Just give up?” 

“Well, no not give up as such, but maybe you need to give him time…” 

“It’s been a month!” 

“Yes, and for most of that time he was in a coma at the hospital, he only woke up a week ago and he needs time to digest just what happened to him. He’s been through hell, Harry.” 

Lavender appeared over her books again. “If I’d been kidnapped, raped and almost died, it would take me more than a month to get over it,” she said. 

“Well I wasn’t talking to you,” Harry spat. 

“Don’t take your guilt out on me…” 

Harry rocked dangerously on the window sill and once again Hermione thought he would fall out. 

“Lavender is right,” Hermione said as calmly as she could, “you have to think about what Draco has been through.” 

“I know what he’s been through,” Harry said viciously, “I saw him, remember?” 

“I know Harry, calm down, please. I’m not saying that you should give up on him; all I’m saying is that you need to be more sensitive to him. He’s been through something so…awful. ” 

“He blames me,” Harry said, “he blames me, he thinks that I abandoned him. I have to see him so I can tell him…” 

“Harry, he probably doesn’t know what he thinks at the moment, if you just give him time to work everything out in his head I sure he’ll understand what happened.” 

“He hates me,” Harry said miserably and leaned back dangerously against the window frame.   

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. She wished he would get down off the sill. She said nothing. She knew that she could argue with him but she also knew that arguing with Harry when he was in a self pitying mood was useless. And Harry was in mood. He had gone to St Mungo’s every day while Draco was asleep and had sat there beside him, and then one day he had arrived to find a medi-wizard at the door who would not let him pass. Draco had woken and he did to want to see Harry Potter.   

“I don’t believe he discharged himself,” Harry muttered. 

Hermione chewed her lip and looked away. He wasn’t suicidal, she knew that, but he could fall out that window, he really could. 

“You knew!” Harry said suddenly and he tried to catch her eye. “You knew he discharged himself, didn’t you?”

  Harry sighed and rubbed her belly. “He…yes, I knew. I’m not supposed to tell you this…” 

“What? Why not? What aren’t you supposed to tell me?” 

“Calm down, Harry! He told Severus not to tell anyone.” 

“Well Snape obviously told you!” 

“Severus tells me everything,” Hermione said simply. 

Harry looked slightly disgusted. “And you kept it from me?” 

“Harry…oh for pity’s sake could you please get down from there?” 

Lavender stuck her wand over the top of her books and the windows slammed shut behind Harry’s back and locked themselves securely. 

“Thanks Lav,” Hermione said with some relief. 

“Not a problem.”   

Harry snorted impatiently. “Tell me what’s going on with Draco!” 

“There’s no need to yell across the room,” Hermione hissed. 

Lavender pushed the books aside and glared at them both. “Look, perhaps you should go to Harry’s room, or our room, or someone’s room, but can you stop arguing about this here? I’m fairly certain that Draco doesn’t want me to know about what’s going on and I’m positive he doesn’t need the rest of the year to know as well.” 

Hermione could scarce believe that Lavender was turning down some first rate gossip, but she could not deny that her room-mate was right. She pushed herself up out of the arm chair and grabbed Harry’s wrist so that she could drag him to his room. It wasn’t until she had closed the door behind her that she thought that she may be in some trouble with him. Harry looked as though he would shake the information out of her if she didn’t impart it soon, and for a moment she considered reminding him that she was pregnant. 

But he did not shake her. Instead Harry sank onto his bed and looked thoroughly distressed. “Please,” he said, “just tell me what’s going on. I’m tired of being kept in the dark. I’ll give him time, space, whatever he wants, but I need to know what is happening to him.” 

Hermione sat beside him and gently rubbed his back. “Alright, well…” She drew breath and smiled, hoping that she was doing the right thing. “That man, the Curator…” 

“Archibald Semeuse,” Harry said. He had memorised the name, hoping one day to find a ritual that would lock the bastards’ soul in the very depths of hell. 

“Archibald Semeuse,” Hermione repeated and felt a little disgusted just by saying it, “when he had Draco he gave him a potion to paralyse him so that he couldn’t struggle when he…” she flushed uncomfortably, “well, you know what he did. But this potion was old and Severus thinks that it was probably badly made and it has had some side effects.” 

“What kind of side effects?” 

“I’m not sure about all of them, but I know he can’t Apparate. Severus says that it is probably temporary.” 

“How do you know he can’t Apparate?” 

Hermione chewed hard on her lip. “Because he contacted Severus last night and asked him to go to the hospital to get him and take him home.” 

Harry’s mouth fell open. “You knew since last night? You knew and you didn’t tell me? You knew I’d go to the hospital!” 

“I know, but by the time I got up you were already gone and Severus told me not to say anything! Severus stayed there last night. He came back this morning and he said that Draco was fine and that we shouldn’t worry.” 

“Would he take me there?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Would Snape take me to see Draco?” 

“Why…what difference would it make if Severus takes you?” 

“He might see me if Snape was there.” 

“Harry, Severus won’t take you anywhere.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he doesn’t like you.” Hermione said bluntly. 

“And there I was thinking we were bonding,” Harry retorted sarcastically. 

Hermione stared at him and a strange smile spread across her face. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. It’s just that was a very Draco thing to say.” 

“I need him,” Harry said urgently, “I need him to come back.”   

“I know,” Hermione began to rub his back again, “and he will, I’m sure of it, but tread softly, Harry. If you push him you never know what will happen.” 

Harry was about to reply but was interrupted by a tiny mewing and Draco’s little cat marched out from beneath the bed and stared up at them both. “I have to feed Miss Kitty,” Harry murmured and reached down to pick the cat up. 

“I guess you’ll have to see him,” Hermione pointed out mischievously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Severus says Draco wants his cat back.” 

Harry coughed up a smile and tipped his head on to Hermione’s shoulder. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” 

Hermione nodded, “yes honey, you really fucked up.” 

“But he wants his cat back?” 

“He wants his cat back,” Hermione confirmed. When Harry stifled a yawn she gently stroked the side of his neck. “You need to sleep, Harry.” 

“I can’t, I have to study.” 

“You’re not going to take anything else in tonight, you’re too tired. Just go to bed, you have to sleep.” 

Harry reluctantly agreed. He felt pretty rotten and he knew that he looked pretty rotten. And if Draco wanted Miss Kitty back, perhaps Harry could be the one to return her. 

********   

“I really don’t understand that school.” Molly Weasley scowled as she prepared two cake tins. “They teach you all this glorious magic and yet they neglect something as simple as basic home economics. Honestly, how do they expect you to live by yourselves? How you got on last summer I don’t know…” 

“You should have words with Dumbledore mum,” Ron said, needling her a little as he swiped a finger through Pansy’s cake batter. Upon putting it in his mouth however he instantly regretted it. Pansy’s batter was decidedly thick and it didn’t taste particularly good. 

Pansy saw the look on his face and took in the vast difference between her batter and Molly’s with some distress. 

“I will have words with Dumbledore,” Molly continued, deciding not to notice the grin on her sons face. “It’s disgusting, just sending you out in the world with no clue about how to look after yourselves!” 

“But we can kill a Dark Lord at ten paces,” Ron pointed out. 

Molly found herself smiling in spite of herself and then set about rousing on Pansy’s batter to recover. “No Pansy, Dear, you need to have more of a flourish in your wand before you pour the batter…” 

“And add more sugar,” Ron suggested. 

Molly glared at her son. “It wouldn’t hurt you to learn this too Ronald Weasley. After we finish baking we are going to move on to meats – and if you’re not careful I will only teach Pansy to prepare corned beef and you will be stuck with it for the rest of your life.” 

Ron quietened down. He and Pansy had been living on greasy fish and chips and Indian food and they had both become desperate for a home cooked meal. Pansy had been the one to suggest extending the olive branch and asking Molly for help. Molly had moved herself into Grimmauld Place three days before and Ron secretly believed that his mother was glad to be needed. She had become secluded at the Burrow, more so since his father had been voted Minister of Magic. Whilst Arthur had to wait until July to take office, there was plenty that needed to be done in preparation and Arthur had taken a flat in the city, one that Molly was loath to move into. She had taken to teaching her son and his girlfriend how to keep house like a duck takes to water. 

And by the look of things, Ron and Pansy desperately needed help. Hermione wasn’t going to be moving in during the summer. Two House Elves, both seemingly named Melville, had arrived to pack up Hermione’s room and take everything to Wilshire. Molly had any number of things to say on that particular turn of events, but many of them did not need repeating. No one really knew what was going to happen with Harry. He had arrived two weeks before and had cried (quite literally) on Ron’s shoulder. Pansy had been one of the few people that Draco had allowed in to see him and she confirmed that he was not happy, but there was some sense of romantic to her and she confided to Ron that she expected Draco and Harry to work it out. Which left Ron in an awkward position. If Harry was to live with Draco, what happened to Ron? How could he live in Harry’s house without Harry? It was an issue he felt he had to address and Harry had agreed that it was best that Ron live at Grimmauld Place indefinitely, regardless of whether Harry was there or not. He then proceeded to question Ron mercilessly about why Pansy thought Draco would forgive him.   

And so, if they were to live here by themselves they had to learn to look after themselves. Molly Weasley was just the person to teach them how, but she felt that she had been neglectful during Ron’s upbringing. She had taught Ginny how to do everything and had left the boys to their own devices. She arrived at Grimmauld Place with a small library of books on household charms and cooking spells and she was eager to pass on her wealth of knowledge to her two more than willing students. It had probably been three of the most enjoyable days that she had spent with her youngest son. 

Pansy was looking at her batter and prodding it dubiously with her wand. “I don’t know if I should cook this,” she said softly. 

“It kinda looks like something Hagrid would have made rock cakes out of,” Ron observed and then grimaced, “sorry…honey.” 

Pansy flushed and Molly inspected the bowl. “It isn’t all that bad,” Molly said gently, “for a first try…but perhaps we should throw this out and start again.”

  Pansy tried a miserable smile. 

“Oh don’t worry dear, the first cake I ever made caused my brother to lose a tooth. At least you are trying – unlike Ronald there.” 

Ron frowned. 

“Your father is arranging for you to get a job at the Ministry,” Molly told her son with a passing casualness that Ron found astounding. 

“A job?” He asked, “At the Ministry? Isn’t that nepotism?” 

Molly, who had no idea what nepotism actually meant, simply continued as though he’d said nothing. “It isn’t anything special, Ron. It’s a position in his old department. It’s a good place to start and it will help feed and clothe you both. Pansy has the money in her Gringotts vault, but you can’t expect to live off that forever – and Draco Malfoy shouldn’t have to keep the pair of you.” 

Pansy looked utterly confused. “I…I don’t have any money in my Gringotts vault. Draco isn’t paying us…” 

Molly swore silently and turned to face them both. “Draco insists on sending money to Arthur and I for Pansy’s upkeep. We won’t accept it and Draco won’t take it back so Arthur has been depositing the money into Pansy’s vault. But as I said, you can’t expect to live on the Malfoy payroll.” Molly shook her head, “you want to work, don’t you?” 

“Of course I do!” Ron was still reeling from the news that Draco Malfoy had been sending money to his parents, “I just never expected to go into the Ministry. It’s so…Percy.” 

Molly winced. 

“Sorry mum.” 

“No, it’s true, it is very like Percy.” Molly placed a fresh bowl in front of Pansy. “But unlike Percy, you are not foolishly ambitious and as far as I know you are not ashamed of your family. You have responsibilities now, Ron. You are very lucky. You have this house to live in and friends who will never abandon you, but you cannot lean on them for your entire life! You chose to come here and to bring Pansy with you; you must take care of yourselves.” 

“I know. I know mum. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, I’m not. I’ll go and see dad tomorrow…to thank him.” 

Molly stopped and stepped back from the bench. She walked around Pansy to the place Ron had perched himself and kissed him firmly on the cheek. “I love you, you know that don’t you?” 

“Of course I do,” Ron grinned, “I love you too.” 

“Those things…those things I said to you in that letter…” 

“Don’t mum, I don’t want to talk about that.” 

“I didn’t mean them…and at the Burrow…” 

“Mum, it’s alright. I know you didn’t. It’s over now, it’s finished. Angelina is in prison and it’s over.” 

“If George had his way she’d be out,” Molly said and as she formed the words she found herself filled with dread. “He says she needs a hospital, not prison.” 

Ron had heard about George’s opinion before. Fred had told him one day over lunch in Diagon Alley. He hadn’t said anything about it, but now that he subject had been raised he decided to deal with it in the way he now realised his mother preferred, direct and to the point. “I think George is right,” he said and waited for what was to come. 

“What? By her own admission that…woman…killed Charlie! She almost killed you! She is clearly insane and needs to be kept away from the world!” 

“Exactly. She’s insane. Being stuck in Azkaban and being surrounded by Dementors can’t be helping that. She needs help mum.” 

Molly shook her head in disgust. “I think it’s you and George who need help.” 

“What does dad think?” 

Molly paused. “Your father…” she sighed, “your father is trying to keep an open mind. But you have to realise, he lost one son to this girl, he almost lost another…” 

Ron nodded. He couldn’t really think of anything more to say about Angelina. Part of him wanted to save her and yet another wanted her to sink so deep into the depths of Azkaban that she would never claw her way out. He looked to Pansy who was getting herself a drink. It was an odd twist that meant he owed Angelina for Pansy.

  Molly seemed to snap back to herself, shaking the momentary melancholy off as quickly as she could. “Look, why don’t I just cook this and we can get back to the lessons tomorrow?” 

Pansy came back to the table looking relieved, more so when Molly gave her an affectionate hug. 

“I asked Fred and George to come for dinner,” Molly continued, “they’ll be here soon.” 

“Fred’s coming here?” Ron asked, swiping his finger through his mothers’ cake batter. 

“I know he’s in everyone’s bad books at the moment, but he is your brother, Ron.” 

“I know, I just don’t know how Harry would feel about him being in his house.” 

“Does Harry hate Fred?” Pansy asked. 

“No…I don’t think so,” Ron grinned helplessly, “but I know Fred’s not one of his favourite people at the moment.” 

“Do you want me to tell them not to come?” Molly asked. 

“No, it’s fine. What are we having?” 

“Nothing fancy, just chops and vegetables and we can have the cake for dessert.” 

“I can help,” Pansy said brightly, “I can help with dinner.” 

Molly and Ron stared at her hopeful face and smiled in spite of their doubts. She had to learn some time. 

*********   

The black carriage that trundled into the underground Hogwarts stables  was simple in design with no real ornaments, but it exuded wealth none the less. Carriages were used almost exclusively by pure blood wizards. They loaned a certain elegance that a Portkey could not provide and until the Ministry lifted its’ ban on flying carpets they were the most convenient mode of transport for the wealthy wizard family with children too young to Apparate. The craftsmanship of the carriage was impeccable. The interior was bedecked in dark polished leather, doted with heavy studs and overstuffed to make it comfortable. 

The wizard who emerged from the interior was as impeccable as his ride. He was tall and slender; his robes were light weight wool that moved almost fluidly with each turn of his body. He wore no Muggle attire and he did not bother with a hood. The robes were high collared and conservative, robes timeless to his kind and made him look almost ghostlike. His face was flawless, slightly too pointed and yet he was exactly what everyone expected him to be. Beautiful still. His grey eyes were clear and cold, his blonde hair seemed to glow in the gloom. Beneath the calm exterior Draco Malfoy was wondering why he had bothered coming back. He stood perfectly still while Non secured the carriage and when the House Elf had finished his task, Draco walked towards the stairs with the little creature in tow. 

Snape was waiting for him and he knew that he would be. Neither bothered with so much as a perfunctory nod. Draco simply reached the top of the stairs and continued his pace down the hall; Snape fell in step beside him and they walked in silence for a while before Draco felt any need to speak. 

“Is my father well?” Draco asked at last. More from a sense of obligation than any real desire to know about his father’s welfare. He was sure that Lucius had been well looked after. They were all fascinated by him, a wizard who had cheated the Dementors kiss. It was a shame Lucius had not had the same kind of forethought before following Voldemort.   

“He’s fine,” Snape replied, “better now that he knows you are well.” 

Draco would dispute the idea that he was well. “Can he walk yet?” 

“He’s getting there.” 

“He’d get better faster if he was at home.” 

“That’s impossible and you know it.” 

Draco ground his teeth and hardened his jaw. “I don’t see why he can’t come home. He has no powers now – thanks to you. He can’t hurt anyone.” 

“The Ministry are not going to let him just pack up and go home, they want to see him punished.” Snape stopped; he had been through this too many times in the space of a day. Draco was just unwilling to accept it.  Lucius himself was far more reasonable. He was quite willing to go to Azkaban, especially since Arthur Weasley would be removing the Dementors in a matter of weeks. The problem was that Arthur Weasley was not deciding on his punishment. Cornelius Fudge was hurriedly making judgements in his final week of power, each one aimed at the people he considered instrumental in his fall. This one was directed at Weasley himself. Lucius Malfoy was being sent in to exile for ten years. There was no indication as to who would be guarding him but Snape was no fool. Neither were Weasley or Lucius. Fudge did not want Lucius Malfoy alive and for some reason he thought it was a subject close to Weasley’s heart, Snape was willing to bet that Lucius would arrive at wherever Fudge was sending him to find Alastor Moody waiting at the door. 

Draco knew this too. He picked at a piece of lint on his sleeve with some disdain before saying; “Don’t you think he’s been punished? Don’t you think eight months as Archibald Semeuse’s own private dolly was a punishment?” 

“You know I do.” 

“Then why didn’t you try harder?” 

“I am not going to argue with you about this, Draco. Your father made his own choices…” 

“Oh?” Draco stopped and swung around to confront his godfather. “He chose to be in this exhibition? He chose to be fucked over and over again by a maniac who thought they were meant to be together forever?” 

“No, but he did choose to follow Voldemort, he did choose to be an arrogant prick who decided that he and his friends were the only ones worthy enough to be gifted and he was blind enough not to realise that excluding all but pure bloods from our gene pool was going to make for a very extinct race of magical people! He chose to be wilfully ignorant and not to use that magnificent brain of his to actually think about the future or consider the facts of our kind and because of these decisions he ended up in this situation, so don’t you stand there and tell me that I should have tried harder! He should never have been so fucking stupid!” 

For a moment Snape feared that Draco Malfoy was about to start crying and the very prospect filled him with dread. Dealing with an emotional and pregnant Hermione was forgivable; dealing with a blubbing godson was not part of his plan this evening. He need not have worried. Draco’s grey eyes narrowed spitefully and the boy almost growled. “You don’t think I know all of those things?” he asked in a voice so cold it was chilling, “I know exactly what my father did and just how pathetically stupid he was. If I had him at home I’d lock him in the attic and never let the miserable Squib come down the stairs. It was his choices that did this to me, I won’t ever forget that, so don’t fret Uncle Severus, I won’t accuse you of laziness again.” 

The change in him astounded Snape. One moment he was fighting for the freedom of his father and the next he was as icy as an arctic wind. 

“We are concerned about this exile however,” Snape admitted, testing Draco a little. “Fudge has decided that this would be a good way to get back at Weasley, we are afraid that he’ll put Moody in charge of your father’s care.” 

“Well, let us hope that he makes a quick job of it,” Draco said briskly as he quickened his pace, “and I’ll get my inheritance that little bit faster.” 

Snape didn’t move for a moment, stayed into stillness by the comment and he watched as Draco strode off into the shadows of the corridor. A dark frown crossed his face and slowly he followed his godson into the castle. 

*******

“You look good.” 

Draco scowled at the statement and stared at his father. Lucius looked good too; it seemed almost sinful that in the space of a few short weeks his father could be walking around with a body that was filling out rapidly. Madam Pomfrey’s muscle booster certainly worked miracles. 

“Thank you,” Lucius said hesitantly, “for your blood. As you can see, it worked wonders.” 

“Well, I was unconscious so I didn’t have much say in the matter.” 

Lucius sighed and pressed on. “Severus’ young lady actually brewed the potion, she’s very talented.” 

“She’s a Mud Blood. Did you know that?” 

“I…” 

“Do you want the potion in you now? Now that you know she’s a Mud Blood?” 

“I am very grateful for her talents,” Lucius said diplomatically. 

“If you had your way, she’d have been dead and then where would you be?” 

Lucius’ gaze shifted from his son to Severus and he smiled tightly. Severus raised an eyebrow and sat himself in a chair by the window, fairly eager to ignore the exchange going on in front of him. 

“How do you feel?” Lucius asked. He did not make a move towards his son, he was fairly certain that if he did he would be repelled quickly. He was not as strong as he looked and his own walking was inhibited by the use of a cane. He was feeling the effects of his loss of magic keenly; it was like having a low grade fever, and he felt terribly cold. He wanted to hold his son but his son was evidently not interested in being held. 

“How do you think I feel?” Draco asked coldly. He hadn’t moved out of the doorway and Non had not moved either although the little elf was elated to see Lucius up and about. 

“I would think that you feel abused and betrayed. I also think you are hating me, but I don’t think it would take much intuition to see that.” 

“And why would I hate you?”   

“Because you blame me for what he did to you,” Lucius said, “and perhaps you are justified. But I would never have wanted that for you, I wanted to protect you...but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry for that.” 

“Yes, well,” Draco said briskly as he walked through the room to the window, “we can add that to the manifold other things you failed to do.” He looked out of the window and could see the darkening Quidditch pitch below. No one was playing out there. The Quidditch cup had already been won, although by what house, Draco had no idea. He half expected to see Harry flying around as he had when he was younger, but on the night before exams started he knew where Harry Potter would be – or at least where he should be. Studying in the common room. He certainly should not have spent the day sitting on Draco Malfoy’s doorstep, which he had and Draco knew it. Leaving the house had proved difficult as he had to wait for Harry to give and leave. 

And of course Harry has given up eventually, although Draco could hardly blame him for that. 

Harry was another problem that Draco would have to face, but there was plenty of time for that tomorrow. 

“Are you staying for exams?” Lucius asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Good, it would behove you to do well.” 

Draco turned to him and sneered. “Don’t come over all fatherly on me now, Lucius, I think we can dispense with it.” 

“Regardless of your current mood, Draco, I am still your father and I will show some concern over your choices.” 

“Choices? My choices? What about your choices and their results? I think uncle Severus summed them up pretty well in the corridor. What say you Uncle Severus, may I repeat the whole ‘Lucius’ choices’ speech or will you fill him in later?” 

“Stop it, Draco,” Severus said again. He was tired of this. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed. He was supposed to be in Hogsmeade with Minerva who was thoroughly disgruntled with the sudden change of plan and had to take Dumbledore to dinner instead. Inside the darkness of his mind he even considered sending Hermione to stay in her room with Lavender to sleep so that he could be alone for the first time in weeks. 

Lucius ignored them both and continued on with speaking to his son. If he was to die – and he had an idea that he probably would – he had every intention now in ensuring Draco was well established for the future. “I have arranged with Arthur Weasley to have your inheritance passed on to you now. The Manor and the family fortune are yours.” 

This took Draco by surprise, he had always been sure that the Malfoy fortune would have to be prised from Lucius’ dead hands. 

“I want you to be happy, Draco.” 

“Well, you should have thought of that before you went running off to start a war, shouldn’t you?” 

“This hatred is a recent thing, Draco. It’s because you’ve been hurt in a way that you can’t understand. It is more than a physical pain or sickness. It is something that is all consuming and you have no control over it. You can’t block it out and you can’t make it go away. The glorious thing about our medicines is that we can cure almost any physical malady…but our minds are as fragile as any Muggles and you feel the pain there. That is why you are hating everyone around you. Semeuse is dead and so you have to take it out on everyone who loves you. I understand that. I will always understand that.” 

“Why…” Draco swallowed hard and blinked a few times to clear his eyes as he looked out the window and the Quidditch pitch blurred into a salty haze. “Why couldn’t they just make me forget?” 

“Because to do so can damage you mind beyond repair. You’ll end up like the Longbottom boy, forgetful and bumbling. You couldn’t stand that, could you?” 

“It would be better than this,” Draco rasped. He strode back to the door, not raising his face to his father. 

“It will pass, Draco. Like any pain, it will diminish.” 

“And I’ll forget it?” Draco sneered harshly. 

“No, you’ll never forget it. But you survived, Draco, and you must go on and live your life. You can hate me to the day you die if it helps, Draco, but you must learn to live your life with some kind of peace.” 

“And how do you suggest I accomplish that?” 

“You could draw strength from the people who love you.” 

“How very herbal of you father,” Draco drawled. 

“What about Harry?” Lucius asked, pressing on in the way that he always did where Draco was concerned. 

“What about him?” Draco bit out, glad of the moment to recover himself. “Harry made his choice.”

  ”And what choice was that?” Lucius asked, “He slipped up, he kissed the wrong person at the right time. Yes, he told me all about what happened. I’ve had quite a chat with young Mr. Potter. It never meant anything to him, he was coming home to you.” 

“Then it was too little too late.” 

“He came for you, Draco.”

  Draco scowled and made for the door. He’d heard enough. He wanted to see his father one last time and now he had done so. There was nothing left to do but go and do what everyone else had no doubt done that evening – study. 

Lucius knew Draco was leaving, he didn’t try to stop him. “Goodbye, Draco.” 

Draco didn’t answer. He left the room without a backward glance. 

*******   

“I ate too much,” Pansy groaned as she climbed into bed. She had showered and her face was pink from being scrubbed. She smelled like a combination of toothpaste and lye soap, her slightly damp hair was starting to curl a little as it dried. “I feel really heavy and bloated.” 

“You don’t look heavy and bloated,” Ron said dutifully. He was feeling much the same way. One thing he could say for his mother, she loved to over feed, especially when she felt that she owed someone something. Not that Ron thought Molly particularly owed him anything. 

He looked at the window and wished he could open it. The summer was getting hot at night and the room had a habit of becoming stuffy, but it was Sunday night and all the garbage in the street gave off a terrible smell which was only exacerbated by the heat. He slid into bed beside her and pulled the light coverings over them both. 

He extinguished the lights and found her mouth almost immediately. It seemed to have become a natural progression for them both now; climb into bed and start kissing. They had not made love yet, but kissing they had down to a fine art. He found her wet, lush and willing as she moved beneath him. Her body was always so full of promise, the untold secrets that she hid during the day opened up for him at night as his hands slid over the light cotton of her night gown. They had not perfected speaking in bed, they never seemed to talk there, kissing seemed so much more important when they were alone and so close. 

He lapped at her mouth, enjoying the taste of toothpaste and saliva mingling with the softness of her lips and tongue. His hand slid over her soft breast and wonderfully hard nipple and he moaned. 

“You feel incredible,” he whispered huskily. 

“I…” she moaned softly as Ron slid between her legs and she felt his erection press hard into her thigh. 

“We should stop,” he panted. He knew that to continue would take him beyond simply wanting her and into needing her. He had to stop while he was still able. 

“We don’t have to,” she whispered and a tremble ran through her frame, “we don’t have to stop.” 

He pulled back from her and tried to see her face in the dark. “If I don’t stop I might do something you don’t want,” he said slowly, ashamed to admit that he might not be able to control himself. 

“I…I want you,” she said shyly, “I want to…make love to you.” 

Ron felt his stomach roll. His only real sexual experience had been with Angelina, and he would hardly call that love making. It had borded on abuse. And he feared for what it would be like for Pansy. What if he hurt her? What if he was no better than Angelina? Doubts that had plagued him for weeks suddenly surfaced with tremendous force, but she reached over to the side table and her wand and with a whisper hundreds of tiny tea lights lit up around the room and she lay back, resting her head on his arm. 

“I want this,” she told him gently, ‘I want to feel what it’s like to have someone I love show me what it’s like…and I think you want that too…don’t you?” 

By way of response he kissed her, stroking her breasts again through the fabric of her nightgown and then he began unbuttoning the front so that he could open it out and reveal her and he could stroke every inch of her smooth skin. Pansy smiled up at him and then reached for his hand to kiss it, running her tongue over his palms and finger and then he placed it more firmly on her breasts while she used her own hands to explore the hardness of his chest.  He moved so that he could pull his pyjama shirt over his head and wriggle out of his pants. She watched as his body was revealed to her, knowing that she had waited for this moment and she wanted to enjoy every feeling and appreciate the excitement that he created inside her. 

The touch of their skin together brought their touching closer to lovemaking than they had ever been before. Their nakedness was now as thrilling as their first kisses had been and the feeling of her creamy soft skin pressed against his firmness was bringing him closer to the edge. This naked coupling represented an achievement for both of them, it signified a loss of fear and they relished the differences in the feel of their bodies. 

Ron longed to enter Pansy but he fought his body’s pull to her, but it was becoming harder to do. As they moved towards each other it was becoming harder and harder to pull away again. They kept their eyes fixed on each others faces, both unable to believe how close they were to each other nor how good it felt to let their hands wander. When finally they could move their gaze they both found themselves looking at Ron’s hard penis pointing its’ swollen head into the dark hair that grew lush between her legs. 

Stroking Pansy’s pale breasts, Ron leaned forward and kissed each pink nipple, sucking at them, relishing each with his tongue and his hand moved down her stomach and with tentative fingers he found the wet warmth that she was offering him. 

Pansy lay back as he moved then, she felt her breath catch as he kissed his way down her body, his tongue darting out to taste her flesh, his hands caressing the softness of her belly. He bent his face between her legs then, flicking his tongue into the wetness, probing the moist opening of her vagina to taste her and then using his fingers to open her further and lap deeper inside. His fingers brushed gently over the hard pearl of her clitoris and she gasped at the intimacy of it, and when the excitement grew too much she pulled him back up to her, holding on to his hard shoulders and telling him that she loved him in a voice that was close to delirium. 

She slithered from his gasp, wanting to taste him as he had tasted her. She longed to explore him and she covered him with kisses, starting at his soft mouth and progressing over his slightly stubbled chin and down his throat. His chest was beaded with clean sweat and she nipped at his small nipples, fascinated at how they hardened so very like her own. He sat back on his haunches and allowed her this exploration, knowing that she had to do this, that she needed to discover the man she was with and know what she was taking into her body.   

She crouched down between his legs and held his hard penis in her hands, she looked up at him. “You’re bigger than I thought you’d be,” she said quietly. 

“It’s alright,” he said, “we can take this as slow as you want.”

  She smiled and returned her attentions to the penis in her hands. She bent her head down to trace the underside of it with her tongue, working towards the head which she hesitantly wet with her mouth. She heard Ron groan as she took as much of it into her mouth as she could, being careful of her teeth, knowing that she had to take care with him. She pulled her moth back and once again traced her tongue down the length of him, wanting now to taste the soft bag of testicles that hung below.

  He knew that he couldn’t hold this and he raised her gently, telling her that she had to stop doing that if she didn’t want him to come so fast. She lay back in the bed and drew him down to her, telling him to be gentle, begging him not to hurt her. 

Ron held her tightly to his chest and promised her that he would never harm her and that she was safe with him. She believed him and she gasped as she opened for him. Lubricated by her saliva and excitement, Ron made the first move to inch himself inside her, showing her that if they worked slowly she could accommodate his size inside her body. 

In his mind he was wishing that it was he who had taken her virginity and not three men who did not know her and did not care, but now as she held him between her legs and was gasping at her first sexual feelings, he knew that it no longer mattered. He was the first man to love her, if he had his way he would be the last man to ever love her and that was all that was important. He was astonished at the feelings it created, loving someone and having them love you in return and when he looked at her she laughed in amazement, mesmerized by the way fate had brought them together in such a wonderful and perfect way. 

*******   

Harry’s eyes opened and closed and he groaned. There was a weight, heavy and leaden, in the very pit of his belly. He knew what it was. Miss Kitty, curled up and fast asleep. He couldn’t believe such a small thing could be so heavy, but she was pressing down hard on his bladder and his entire body felt strangely sore. Probably the result of sleeping in one position for far too long. 

And his bladder, where she was sleeping, felt horribly full. 

He groaned again and tried to move the cat. She woke, stood on his stomach and stretched, almost causing him to wet himself as her back feet pressed down hard into his groin.

  ”Shit! Move!” He pushed the cat off him and she hissed as he sat up. He had no idea what time it was but he decided that it must be late. He felt as though he had been asleep fort a long time, and there was no light creeping into his room from under the door and that was a sure sign that the common room was empty and that everyone had retired to bed – to try and get some sleep before exams started the next day. 

He wished he was still sleeping. He’d had precious little of it since that night at the Museum and he was sure that it was sheer exhaustion that had allowed him whatever he had just managed to get.

  He needed to pee and he swung his legs out of the bed – almost treading on Miss Kitty – and headed out his bedroom door.   

As he had predicted, the common room was dark and empty. There was a chill in the air that rooms tended to get when devoid of people for a period of time so he figured that it must be very late. Harry padded across the room to the bathroom and yawned as he walked automatically to the trough to relieve himself. 

He was wearing an old pair of cotton pyjama bottoms, Dudley’s hand me downs that had a hole in the bottom and whose elastic was about to give in, but Harry didn’t really care about that – he was still half asleep, all he could think about was getting back to bed. He finished peeing and shoved his cock back into his pants without shaking particularly well. He didn’t rightly care about the drops of urine that soaked the front of his pants, they would dry by morning, he didn’t even think about it. 

He left the bathroom and started back across the common room, just in time to see Miss Kitty make a break from his room and streak across the room towards the corridor that lead to her old home.

  Draco’s bedroom. 

“Fuck!” Miss Kitty!” Harry hissed in a harsh whisper, “Come back! Puss Puss Puss!” 

Miss Kitty ignored him and the little tabby turned into the darkness of the short corridor, her skinny little tail in the air and Harry was almost certain that she was mooning him in defiance. 

“Miss Kitty!” Harry’s sharp whisper became strained, “come back here you stupid cat, he’s not down there!” 

But still she did not appear and Harry was forced to go down the corridor after her. He hadn’t been in Draco’s room since he had gone to get Miss Kitty. It hurt to be in there, looking at all of Draco’s things. Harry could even smell Draco there. He could not look at the bed without remembering the nights he had spent there, warm in Draco’s arms or wrapped around his body. He did not want to go down there now to chase the little cat, but he also knew that he would get no more sleep if Miss Kitty was running around the common room and making a nuisance of herself. 

“Miss Kitty! Come here…puss puss puss! Come here! I don’t want to be chasing you all over the fucking castle!”   

The corridor was dark and he didn’t have his wand (he could almost hear Alastor Moody screaming “constant vigilance!” in his ear) and he tried a lumos charm anyway. He was surprised when a dim light illuminated the narrow hall. He almost smiled, except that Miss Kitty was leaping at the door latch like a crazy animal and on the third attempt she caught it and the door opened – just a crack. 

“Oh Miss Kitty, you fucking pain in the fucking arse, come back here!” 

Once again Miss Kitty performed her tail in the air mooning action and slinked inside.

  Shit. 

Harry rolled his eyes and almost stamped his foot in frustration. He followed her. 

“Miss Kitty,” he wasn’t bothering to whisper now, there was no one to wake up down here, “he’s not here you stupid fucking cat…” 

The balcony door was open. Oh Gods, don’t let her go over the balcony.   

“Miss Kitty…come here puss.” 

He stepped into the door way of the balcony and hoped that he could grab the cat before she jumped.

  He stopped and his breath caught. Draco turned around to face him, blowing smoke from the opium cigarette he was smoking as he did. 

Harry’s mouth worked open and closed and he was suddenly aware of what he looked like in Dudley’s old pyjama pants with piss all over the front. He wished that he had at least washed his hands. He tried to speak but found he couldn’t. He didn’t know what to say. 

“What’s wrong Potter? My “stupid fucking cat” got your tongue?” 

“You…you’re here.” 

Draco glared at him as though it was patently obvious while Miss Kitty rubbed herself happily around his ankles. 

“I didn’t think you were here. You went home…you were sick…” 

“There are exams to be sat, Potter. What did you think I would do, slink home and never come back?” 

“I…you came for exams?” 

“I just said that didn’t I?” 

Harry felt his body give way; he wanted to throw himself on Draco and hug him with relief. “How are you? Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” 

Harry looked at him, trying to see through the cold tone to see what he was feeling. He wanted to touch him, hold him and love him. In the moonlight he seemed to shine. He was so pale, his hair almost glowed. He was wearing robes, good ones, with a high neck. His skin was as clear as it ever was and in the grey eyes Harry thought he could see something other than the coldness Draco was showing him. 

“I missed you,” Harry whispered. 

Draco said nothing. 

“What you saw,” Harry said desperately, “what you saw that night…it wasn’t real…I was coming back, but Fred…he wouldn’t let me go…” He looked at Draco’s impassive face, “that kiss was nothing…it meant nothing. I only did it so I could come back to you. I didn’t know you were there…” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco said emotionlessly as he flicked his cigarette over the balcony, “you can do whatever you want.” 

“I’m so sorry…baby, I’m so sorry.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco said again. 

“I love you.”

  Draco pushed hard past him and went into his room to light the gas lamps. 

“I went to your house…you…the House Elf wouldn’t let me in.” 

“Remind me to commend Rosie for her fortitude.” 

Harry looked at him, wondering if the façade would crack at all. “I wanted to talk to you. I want to explain.” 

“Explain what? That you were coming back, Fred Weasley wouldn’t let you leave, you had to kiss him, it meant nothing?” Draco yawned as though he was bored. 

“I’m so sorry.”

  ”Good,” Draco snapped. He picked up a leather bound box from the floor beside his bag and then placed it on the bed. Inside he had several bottles of what looked to Harry like alcohol and Harry looked at them, utterly incredulous. He had just gotten out of the hospital and he was going to get drunk? What time was it? 

“Do you think you really need that?” Harry asked, knowing that he probably shouldn’t say anything. 

Draco laughed bitterly. “What do you think it is?” he asked with a sneer, “Whisky? Gin? A bit of nettle wine to calm my nerves? Oh no, Potter, these are medicines. Lovely bottles of medicines to add to my ever growing list of shit that I need to keep myself going on a daily basis. Aren’t they pretty? This purple one here stops me from having fits brought on by the out of date potion that Mr. Semeuse poured down my throat. And this brown one here is very nice, it tastes a little like distilled sweat, but it knits muscle and tissue back together – that would be the muscles and tissues in my arse hole, in case you’re wondering. Now this is Navitas, you know that one, but the clear one here is my personal favourite, this builds my immune system back up so that I don’t drop dead on you all, but one of the side effects is that I can’t do magic properly so I can’t Apparate or do anything like that just in case I accidentally turn myself inside out. This pretty red one here is supposed to help me sleep, but all it does is make me sick so when I take it I just throw the whole lot up and then I have to start again. Would you like me to continue?” 

“I am so sorry, Draco.” 

“Good!” Draco said again, but he was sounding a little hysterical now, “Good, be sorry, I’m hoping you are sorry until you fucking die, but I don’t want to have to look at you while you’re feeling it, so fuck off and leave me alone!” 

“Draco…” 

“Leave me alone!” 

Harry looked at him and wanted to cry. Draco was breathing heavy and he started removing the stoppers from his many bottles. Harry watched him, not wanting to leave him there alone but knowing Draco wouldn’t take his medicines in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, Draco.” 

Draco didn’t answer; he seemed intent on controlling his breathing. 

Harry gave him one last look. He knew that he wouldn’t sleep again that night, but he knew he had to leave the room. He turned away and left Draco alone in the room, by the time he reached the common room his cheeks were wet, but he didn’t turn back. He went back to bed to wait out the rest of the night. 

*********   

Snape yawned and picked at the sleep in the corners of his eyes. He withdrew the pocket watch from his robes and inspected it only to discover it was two in the morning. He looked to the bed where Lucius was still staring at the wall. They had spoken little since Draco had left the room a number of hours before. Lucius seemed cold and he shivered often, but he made no moves to put on warmer robes or to pull the bedclothes up over himself. Snape wondered why he had stayed so long, he had thought perhaps that Lucius might want to talk, but the silence in the room had settled over them like a tomb. 

“I think I’ll get going then,” Snape said and he stifled another yawn. Hermione would be getting worried, that was if she was still awake. She slept soundly at the moment. She was over four months pregnant now and while she appeared to have gotten over her morning sickness problems, she could now sleep for hours on end. 

“You’re leaving?” Lucius asked, he turned his face to Snape for the first time in hours. 

“It’s late, Lucius, I have classes in the morning.” 

“You never used to need sleep,” Lucius murmured and then he frowned and looked at the wall again. 

“I was a lot younger then.” 

“You didn’t have a woman then.” 

Snape frowned at the accusation in Lucius Malfoy’s voice. It was as though he thought his only friend was leaving him. Perhaps he was right. At that moment Snape wanted nothing more than to get out of that room. 

“Will you look after Draco?’ Lucius asked, echoing the words he had said long ago after that final battle. 

Snape felt a sigh deep within him. He had not done such a good job of looking after his god son so far, and yet Lucius did not seem to blame him. “I will try, but Draco is very wilful.” 

“I know.” Lucius smiled sadly, “he’s a lot like his father in that respect.” 

“He’ll regret it, you know.” 

“Regret what?” Lucius asked. 

“Everything he said to you.” 

This troubled Lucius and he looked helplessly at his faithful wall. “I don’t want him to regret it. I want him to get over this…if he has to hate me to do that then that is fine.” 

“But he will regret it and you know he will. One day he will wake up and it will hit him and he’ll regret it.” 

“You can’t let him regret it.” 

“I can’t control the way he thinks…” 

“Not legally.” 

“I am not going to medicate him any further than already has been.” 

“How was Azkaban?” Lucius asked, changing the subject and forcing a tone of amusement into his voice. 

“I wasn’t there long enough for it to make an impression.” It was a lie and they both knew it, but Severus Snape was an excellent liar and he looked at Lucius evenly as he said it. Azkaban had of course made a great impression on him. He had relived every bad deed and every sin of his life. Every humiliation and torture had been brought to the surface. Potter had endured much the same experience, Dumbledore had confided that Potter had relived his mother dying over and over again. His mother amongst others. 

“Are you going to marry your girl?” 

Snape had the impression that Lucius was trying to make conversation to stop him from going. “Yes, I’m going to marry her.” 

“Why?” 

Snape shifted uncomfortably. He did not want to have any kind of emotional discussion with Lucius at this moment. Once upon a time he’d have no trouble confiding in him, but a lot of water had passed under that particular bridge. 

“She’s a Mud…” 

“Don’t say it.” 

“She’s very young.” 

“I don’t care.” It sounded as though he was arguing, as though he were a foolish adolescent once again, but he truly did not care about Hermione’s age, just as he was getting sick of sneaking her into his chambers each night. They were engaged, she was going to have his child. He could scarce wait for this month to end so that they could be more open about their relationship. 

“Well, she seems very clever. From the fact that she beat Draco at almost every subject would suggest that she is intelligent and from what I saw of her when I was brought here she appears to be very mature. She doesn’t come out with illogical sentences that will drive you to distraction and she likes you in spite of your ill temper and unfortunate appearance. So perhaps you should marry her before she comes to her senses and heads for the hills.” 

Snape scowled and pushed himself out of his chair by the window. “I think that is my cue to leave.” 

“What do you think my chances are?” Lucius asked when Snape had reached the door. 

“Chances of what?” 

“Surviving exile?” Lucius turned an apologetic look to him. “If Fudge has got someone like Moody being my keeper, what do you think my chances are.” 

Snape decided not to lie now, he scanned Lucius’ face and knew that he was hoping for some words of comfort, but Snape knew he also liked to go into things with his eyes open. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Weasley is looking to bring a lot of Fudge’s Aurors into court for war crimes. I am assuming that if you get someone like Moody…” 

“Or Moody himself,” Lucius prompted. 

“Or Moody himself,” Snape conceded, “Weasley will look to indite them. So, if you can get through a week, I think your chances are good…that is if Fudge tells Weasley where he sent you…” 

“Thank you for those words of confidence,” Lucius drawled. 

“I don’t think Moody would kill you, if that’s any consolation.” 

“Oh yes, he’ll just beat me daily for the next ten years. Either that or he’ll do Crucio until I run mad.” 

“I didn’t think death would scare you,” Snape said bluntly, “you never seemed that type.” 

“Death doesn’t scare me,” Lucius replied defensively, “but I am sick of pain…and I don’t want to lose my mind. Why don’t they just kill me and get it over with?” 

Snape demurred, he looked away feeling distressed. If he looked at Lucius now he would see the same young man who had made his childhood bearable, he hated to think of him as being afraid. 

“Do you hate me?” Lucius asked. 

“No.” 

“Would you kill me? If I asked you to, would you kill me?” 

“No.” 

Lucius nodded sadly and began to gnaw his thumb. 

Snape knew he should say something, offer some words of comfort, but he couldn’t. He wanted to go and sleep beside the woman who would be his wife soon enough. “Goodbye, Lucius.” 

“Goodbye Severus…will you come back? Before I go?” 

“Yes, I’ll come back before they take you.” 

“Then I’ll see you soon,” Lucius offered up a dazzling smile and Snape felt a smile of his own tug at the corner of his mouth. 

“Good night, Lucius, get some sleep.” 

********   

By the time Harry realised that it was too late to attempt any more sleep or revision the sun had risen over Hogwarts and he could hear other students making their way down to breakfast. Revision was useless anyway. The teachers had stopped teaching actual lessons two weeks before and had been going over any topic that they thought might come up in the exams over and over again. Harry had managed to study whilst he had waited outside Draco’s hospital room over the last month, and when he couldn’t sleep after his early morning encounter, he had taken out his Herbology text book and had made a brave attempt at cramming a little more into his already aching brain. 

He didn’t know if any of it would do any good. Dumbledore had approved a number of previous years exams to be admitted for use as preparation materials for the exams, but anything that he may have learned had fast run through Harry’s brain like a sieve. He was surprised however when he saw Hermione sitting at breakfast happily eating toast. When he thought back to the jittering mess she had been before OWLS he could only think that this was just not the same person. Either being pregnant agreed with her immensely or she had completely lost her mind. 

If it was the pregnancy then Harry was beginning to wish he could reach the same state. The thought had reached him at some ungodly hour of the night that he could well stuff these exams up completely (in much the same way he had managed to stuff everything up recently) and then he would not get into Auror school and then he would end up an unqualified nothing who lived in the front room of Grimmauld Place reliving his glory days over and over again to any poor soul who happened upon him. 

He began to sweat. 

Lavender too was sweating on exams, but only because her father had told her that he wouldn’t help her financially with her shop if she didn’t get at least three NEWTS. She had decided that Herbology, Divination and Charms were the three she did best at and had put all of her energies into studying for them, but now that Herbology was actually here she was having a quiet panic attack. 

Harry didn’t notice Lavender’s panicked state and so thought that he was the only person that Monday morning who had found themselves in a state of blind panic. He was glad he only had the one exam, Hermione had Ancient Runes in the afternoon and Harry figured that Draco would have the same exam considering he shared the majority of Hermione’s classes (History of Magic being the one he had decided not to bother with). 

Harry wondered if Draco was prepared for the work ahead. He had lost a month of revision and if he was taking all of the potions he had shown Harry, it was possible that he was not well enough to complete many of the practicals.

  Breakfast itself was a quiet affair. Lavender’s lips kept moving as she silently recited the method of grafting a meat eating Lion Tuber to a fire breathing Dragon flower. Hermione’s Ancient Runes text book was propped up against the milk jug and she was so intent on reading that she actually missed her mouth and shoved toast up her nose. Harry was managing to eat with gusto until Draco came down and took the only space left at the table, beside Lavender. His appetite vanished and he looked anxiously at Draco’s pale features. It did not look as though he had slept and Harry figured that if the sleeping draught made him vomit it was probable that he hadn’t taken it. 

“Hi,” Hermione said not bothering to mask her surprise at seeing him. Harry had said nothing about Draco staying for exams, neither had Severus. She thought that he had simply come to see his father and left again. “How are you? Do you feel well?” 

Draco looked at her with a face that twisted into a sneer. “Are you talking to me?” 

“Of course I’m talking to you.” 

“Then please refrain. Keep your filthy mud blood concerns to yourself.” 

Hermione’s mouth fell open, as did Lavender and Harry’s, but Hermione recovered herself faster than either. 

“I don’t care what problems you have with Harry and I am sorry for what happened to you, but don’t you ever take it out on me!” she said fiercely. “I’ve done nothing but help you, I even helped your father even though I find the man abhorrent, you should be thanking me!” 

Draco flushed and a hot red patch blazed on his cheek. For a moment he looked as though he would add to his insult and pick a fight with her. Instead he demurred and apologised. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I’m not feeling myself at the moment.” He then bowed his head so that his face was hidden behind the messy fringe of blond hair, and he ate in silence. 

Harry watched him eat, taking note of everything he took in and despite his shock at Draco’s behaviour, he was somehow pleased to see that he was eating more than usual. 

“Don’t be angry at him,” Harry murmured to Hermione, “it’s my fault.” 

“I’m not angry with him,” Hermione said firmly, “and it is not your fault. Just drop it; you need to concentrate on your exams.” 

At the High Table Dumbledore was enjoying his breakfast with old Griselda Marchbanks who (to Harry’s secret astonishment) was still alive and kicking. She was laughing loudly at something the Headmaster had said and Harry thought that she had probably been a real flirt in her younger days. Beside her Minerva was surreptitiously trying to block her ear closest to the older woman and Snape was hiding what Harry would have once thought of as a malicious smile but he now recognised as a sign of the mans wry amusement. 

Once breakfast was finished and every one filtered out of the Great Hall, the fifth, seventh and eighth years all milled around outside in the entrance hall for a while until Professor Flintwick came and shooed them outside into the sunshine. 

Harry, Hermione and Lavender settled under the beech tree at the edge of the lake, each a little too nervous to enjoy the beautiful summer morning. 

“I hate this,” Lavender said and she pulled a few blades of grass out of the ground as though hoping they might offer her some answers for the impending exams. “I hate how we’re all made to feel as though these exams are the most important things that we will ever do, when in fact for most of us they will have no effect on the outcomes of our lives!” 

Hermione glared at her with self righteous indignance. “How can you say that? Our NEWTS are important!” She shook her head, unable to believe that anyone could think otherwise. “They help you take the next step in your life. I mean, what if you want to be a teacher, or a healer…” she looked at Harry, “or an Auror? If you fail these exams you wouldn’t be able to do any of those things!”

  ”Calm down, Hermione, you’ll do yourself damage.” Lavender rolled her eyes. “All I’m saying is that most of the students who sit NEWTS don’t really need to do them. I want to open a shop; I don’t need NEWTS to do that. The only subject I really needed to do was Potions and I didn’t take it.” 

“Why didn’t you take Potions?” Harry asked, “I know he’s awful, but I gritted my teeth and did it.” 

Lavender ignored Hermione’s look at Harry’s comment. “You were allowed in, Harry. I wasn’t.” 

“Snape didn’t let you take the class?” 

“I didn’t get an Outstanding OWL for Potions, so no, he didn’t let me in. Bastard. I can almost see the smile on his face when he said no to my elective.” She looked at Hermione who was now looking at her with the scowl she had previously given to Harry. “Sorry, ‘Mione.” 

Hermione’s face softened. She could imagine the smile he had on his face too. She looked over to where Draco was sitting near the ancient stone wall. He was picking at what looked like sliced apple. She nodded towards him; “Severus told me that he really let fly at his father last night. He told Mr. Malfoy to hurry up and die.” 

This unsettled Harry more than any other piece of news could have. The one person Draco had never given up on was his father, and yet now when everything was finally coming together Draco had seemingly given up on Lucius. “Why?” Harry asked quietly, “Why would he say that to his father?” 

“I’m not sure,” Hermione replied, “Severus said that Draco blamed Mr. Malfoy for everything that happened to him, he said it was his father’s fault.” 

“Archibald Semeuse was Lucius’ fault?” 

“Well, Draco seems to think that if his father hadn’t followed Voldemort then he wouldn’t have been interrogated and then he wouldn’t have been given the kiss so he wouldn’t have ended up in the Museum and the Curator would never have heard of Draco.” 

Harry couldn’t deny the logic of Draco’s thought pattern, but he could also see the stupidity of it. In the entire of the time that Harry and Draco were together, Draco had never once condemned Lucius for anything; in fact he had always been the first to jump to the former Death Eater’s defence. Even when Moody had scarred Draco for life he had stood by his father, but then again, what Archibald Semeuse had done was something else entirely. Perhaps this was the final straw and Draco couldn’t take any more. 

“He’s just lashing out,” Hermione said philosophically, “he’s upset and he doesn’t know who to blame.” 

“Can you blame him?” Harry said hotly, “he can lash out as much as he wants, I don’t care. I wish he would just hit me or something, I wish he would beat me to a pulp. I wish he would just take it out on me.” 

“It’s okay, Harry,” Hermione said, trying to sooth him, “he’ll come through this. It’s really good that he’s here, it’s a good step. He’s not hiding.”

  Harry wanted to tell her to shut up. He wanted to scream because all he could do now was look at Draco and he couldn’t hold him or calm him or sooth him. Someone had hurt him, someone had hurt his baby and had used him and torn into him and caused him to scream and cry and bleed. And Harry had been too late to stop it, too late to stop the one person he needed to stop. 

Hermione rubbed her belly and was rewarded with a small kick from inside – or at least it could be a kick, she wasn’t sure. She imagined that inside her ever expanding womb her little one was doing laps. 

“You’re getting bigger,” Harry said, trying to draw his attention away from staring at Draco. 

“You think? I haven’t noticed so much.” Hermione looked down at her little rounded belly with pride. 

“Have you thought of any names?” Lavender asked, deciding that naming the baby would have to be far more entertaining than fretting over exams or Draco. It would certainly make her feel a little better. 

“Lots of names,” Hermione said, “and Severus hates every one of them. I like Gabrielle, Garnet and Rosie. He likes Belladonna, Ravenna and Magdalene.” 

“Belladonna?” Lavender asked, wrinkling her nose. “As in Deadly Nightshade?” 

Hermione shook her head; “don’t even get me started on that.” 

“So it’s a girl then?” Harry asked confused. 

“We don’t know what it is. If we went to a Muggle hospital they could use one of those ultrasound things and find out what sex the baby is, but we aren’t going to a Muggle hospital, we have a mediwitch for a midwife…” she stopped and smiled. 

“Mediwitches are very good,” Lavender said, “they have been delivering Wizards and Witches for centuries.”

  ”I know, I’d just like to know what we’re having.” 

“Alright then. What about boys names then?” Lavender smiled. 

“I like Oscar, Rowan and William. He likes Lucien, Mordred and Aurelius.” 

“Oh Gods, they’re all awful!” Harry cried, “How could you torture your child with any of them?” 

Hermione looked disgruntled and rubbed her belly again. 

Minerva and Professor Sprout suddenly appeared and began calling them in for the Herbology exam. 

It proved more difficult than any of them had anticipated. Lavender was grateful that she had anticipated grafting of dangerous plants as being important, she figured that it had saved her at least two fingers, Seamus Finnegan had not been so lucky and was on his way to St Mungo’s to have emergency limb growth. Harry had been more fortunate; he only needed the help of Madam Pomfrey for the large chunk that his Flesh Eating Fangor had taken out of him. Hermione had felt her stomach turn for the first time in weeks when she was confronted by dragon manure fertilizer on such a large scale and as soon as the exam was over she was running to the bathroom to thoroughly bathe. 

When she came out of the bathroom she found Draco waiting for her, leaning his back lazily against the wall and she guessed he had been there for a while. 

“I just wanted to say sorry…again,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” Hermione replied and she gave him a smile that she knew was sickeningly sympathetic. “I just wanted to know that you were alright.”

  Draco looked uncomfortable for a moment; he looked at the floor and kicked at the wall idly. “I’m fine,” he said, “I’m just fine.” 

“Harry misses you,” she blurted out and grimaced, not really knowing if Harry wanted her to take up his cause. 

“Yeah,” Draco said gruffly, “well he should have thought of that…” 

“He went to Azkaban…so did Severus…did you know that?”

  Draco didn’t know. No one had told him that detail and he tried unsuccessfully to not look surprised. 

“He knocked out two Aurors when they wouldn’t let him into the Museum. Then he and Severus were accused of trashing the exhibition and killing the Curator…and taking your father.” 

“But they got off,” Draco bit out, “so it all ended well for them, didn’t it?” 

“I know you’re angry at him Draco, but he didn’t want this to happen, he didn’t know anything like this could ever happen. He loves you, he went to find you…” 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Draco said shaking his head. 

“But he loves you, Draco, and your father loves you, you can’t just walk away from them!” 

Possibly not, but Draco could very well walk away from her at that moment, and he did. Hermione watched him go and wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut. She wondered if Harry would start screaming when he found out. She wondered if she really cared what Harry thought right then. It was Draco who was hurting, she was only trying to help him. 

She managed to avoid Harry for the rest of the afternoon, sitting her Ancient Runes exam and then heading straight to the Dungeons. She wanted to remove herself from the whole twisted scenario for a while at least, and curling up on the bed to revise for charms tomorrow seemed just what she needed. 

Severus’ dungeon chambers were in an unusual state of clutter. He had packed them up over the weekend and they now appeared to be little more than sparse living arrangements amidst piles of wooden packing crates. Once school was finished for the year they would be moving to the Fenn and so he did not need all of his personal belongings to be here anymore. The only things that remained unpacked were the clothes he required for day to day living and basic tools for marking papers should he feel the need to work down in the room. 

Hermione’s books were piled on the little table beside the bed, but as she entered the room she noticed two things; firstly that the shower was running and second, that she was horribly tired. She was always tired at the moment. 

A look at the clock revealed that it was only three thirty and far too early for Severus to be here. She frowned and wondered if somehow she had left the shower running that morning or if someone was fooling around playing a prank. She ventured to the bathroom and poked her head around the door. Severus was standing in the shower, scrubbing himself with the same vigour Hermione had used when she was desperate to get manure off her. 

“Severus? What happened?” 

He jumped, yelped, and spun around to face her. “You scared the shit out of me!” 

She couldn’t hold the smile in, she loved it when the calm and collected façade dropped for a moment, and it was usually when he was taken by surprise. “I’m sorry,” she said, but a giggle had made its way into her voice, “I just didn’t expect you to be here.” 

“We can thank Roberto Dawkins,” he explained, “he is my latest Longbottom and his peace potion just boiled over and exploded all over me.” 

“But you don’t heat a peace potion.” 

“I know that, everyone else in the classroom knew that, Dawkins did not know that.” 

“So, do you feel peaceful?” She asked, the amusement still rich inside her. 

“Not particularly.” 

“Did you call him a dunderhead?” she wheedled playfully. 

“Amongst other things,” he murmured. 

“You are very sexy when you’re caustic.” 

“Hmm,” he arched an eyebrow. “I seem to recall I made you cry…” 

She waved her hands vaguely as though it was all untrue. “You look very sexy in there.” 

“You treat me as little more than an object, Miss Granger,” he said, affecting a miffed tone. 

“Oh dear, I’m sorry Professor. How can I make it up to you?” 

He grinned an evil grin. “Well, you can start with getting in here with me.” 

Hermione sighed dramatically. There was always time for study and sleep later. 

******   

In the morning Draco was looking more pale and drawn than he had the day before and Harry was sporting a heavy bandage around his arm and more stubble on his chin. Neither looked as though they had slept particularly well. When Lavender asked Harry if he was planning on showering and shaving that day he had barked out an insult of a reply to her and guzzled his morning coffee down. Draco was pushing his food around his plate listlessly and resting his cheek on his fist. 

Theory of Charms went well for everyone. Even Harry, who was not particularly good at the theory of anything, actually felt as though he had done the subject justice. He always relied on making up for his shortcomings in the practical exams and like his mother he had a gift for charms. 

After lunch they once again found themselves sitting under the beech tree waiting to be called in for exams and Harry watched as one by one they were all called into the great hall to sit their practical. Soon Harry was the only one sitting under the beech tree and his thoughts began to wander. He had tried to talk to Draco the previous night and had been hexed for his trouble. For a moment he had been tempted to retaliate and Draco looked very much as though he wanted him to. But Harry had turned away. 

He watched Draco disappear into the castle as his name was called, and Harry was called several minutes later. Draco was still sitting at the little table doing his exams, he wasn’t looking happy about his progress. Charms had never been a strong point, but it looked as though the exam was not going well. As Harry sat down there was an explosion of glass and a few people yelped in surprise.   

Harry swung around to see Draco blushing hot and apologising for the mishap. The old Professor who was testing him looked on sympathetically. 

“Don’t worry young man, I understand that you have not been well recently?” 

“Um, well, no…I haven’t been well…” 

“You’re taking Auxidium aren’t you?” 

“Yes, Professor, twice a day.” 

“Well then, you have done very well considering. Perhaps we should stop for today then?”

  Draco nodded and stood up shame faced. His eye caught Harry’s as he turned to leave and Harry recognised the glassy look. Draco fled before he lost his composure completely.   

The following day Draco came down to breakfast looking positively awful. He looked horribly sick and both Harry and Hermione wanted to force him back to bed. He ignored Harry completely and he was only marginally more cordial in the face of Hermione’s concern. The reason surfaced that afternoon when Harry sat down in front of Professor Tofty for his Transfigurations practical. Draco had Professor Marchbanks enthralled by his prowess and Harry knew then that he had not taken his medicines that morning. He might be sick, but he could at least do magic, and there was no way Draco Malfoy was going to allow himself to fail Transfigurations.   

“You can’t do that,” Harry said later after he had run after Draco, catching him just before he reached the library. 

“Do what, Potter?” Draco spat nastily. 

“You can’t just not take your medicine, you need them to get better.” 

“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do. I take various medicines under the advisement of the professional Healers at St Mungo’s, not Harry Potter – professional nothing at the moment.” 

“I can’t see the Healers at St Mungo’s agreeing with you just stopping them so that you can pass an exam.” 

“Then I will take it up with them,” Draco said with an overly polite tone, “now if you will excuse me I have study to do.” 

But on the Thursday Draco was looking better, a product of the fact that he had no major exams until the following week and he was no doubt taking his medicines again. Harry and Draco both had Thursday off and while Draco closed himself in his room, Harry took the opportunity of getting some sleep. He had the luxury of four full days to prepare for the following week. Hermione had History of Magic on Thursday and then Arithmancy with Draco on Friday, Harry had nothing until Astronomy on Monday. 

He needed sleep and he had no doubt that Draco needed sleep too, but he couldn’t talk to Draco because every time he did Draco either hexed him, swore at him or affected his overly polite tone which was worse than any of them. 

Hermione, on the other hand, was getting more sleep than she had ever needed in her life. She found it hard to keep her eyes open, and the more important her day was, the more tired she found himself. Her body had become a slave to her ever changing hormones. She would sleep like a log all night long and then wake craving sex. It seemed that the moment her morning sickness stopped, her libido kicked in and she was insatiable. Severus was almost staggering to teach his classes in the morning and was contemplating brewing various performance enhancing potions to keep to keep her satisfied at night. He had even yawned in front of his fourth years that week. 

Having been unusually lazy in her approach to her Advanced History of Magic exam, Hermione found that she wasn’t concerned with how well she did at all. This was a little troubling to her. She had never been so unconcerned with her academic success, it felt unnatural to her  and was somehow more frightening than anything that was to come. She was pregnant, she hadn’t told her parents and she was running off to marry her Potions Master – and it was her unconcern about her History of Magic exam that worried her. Maybe Harry was right, maybe she was losing her mind. 

They all spent the weekend revising for the following week. On Saturday morning Lavender received a piece of news that made her giddy and more agitated about her prospects of passing. Her father had found a shop in Diagon Ally that would be good for her perfume and toiletries store, and although he doubted that his daughters venture would get her anywhere, he had made a promise and an arrangement for her to go to see the shop space on Thursday morning. Lavender’s final exam was on Wednesday and she knew that her father was taking a leap of faith in assuming she was going to pass. She could scarce wait for the next week to go by and she could get herself to London. 

But until that time there were other exams to be completed. Hermione yawned her way through Astronomy on Monday night while Harry did extremely well, partially due to the seven cups of strong coffee he had consumed that evening. Much to Hermione’s dismay, he had chosen not to shave or change his clothes since before exams had started, and with the strange insomniac eyes and the caffeine jitters, he was looking a lot like one of the homeless people that Hermione had seen the last time she went to London. Draco did less than well with the exam. He had not slept a full hour at once since he had arrived back at the castle and was convinced he had seen a shooting star – which he wrote on his parchment – and it turned out to be an express owl delivering a letter.

  He did not fair much better in his Defence Against the Dark Arts practical. Knowing full well how bad he’d felt when doing his Transfigurations exams, he was not game to try and duel without taking his potions. Of course, if he did take his potions his magic was affected and he couldn’t perform properly anyway. And so he was forced to sit on the side and watch, along with Hermione who had been excused by Minerva. They were both to receive a standard pass based on their performance over the year – and neither was particularly happy with the outcome. Hermione bemoaned the unfairness of the situation to Severus later that night, while Draco took out his rage by practicing his hexes on unsuspecting first years as they left the library. 

They were glad when Wednesday arrived and they both had a free day. Harry had gone down to his Care of Magical Creatures exams and Hermione found herself loitering around the common room in hope of finding Draco so that she could ask him to quiz her for potions the following day.

  He was there, enjoying silence and the fact that Harry wasn’t there and he could sit in the common room without having Harry stare at him. Hermione approached him and he almost groaned as she made her request. 

“You’re fucking the Potions Master,” he drawled, “and you want me to quiz you?” 

“Well Severus could do it,” she admitted, “but he is teaching today and by the time he finishes he is sick to death of talking about Potions.” 

“I think he’d make an exception for your exam.” 

“Well that’s true too…” Hermione sat down and shoved him over. “But I’m always tired by that time…either that or I want to have sex and that’s not really conductive to revision.” 

Draco’s eyes widened. “Horney eh?” 

“Incredibly, I can’t seem to get enough of it.” 

“I didn’t know being pregnant would make you horney.” 

“I didn’t either, but Madam Mimsby says it is quite common…poor Severus is exhausted.” 

“Well, he spent years not getting any and now he can’t keep up, we should all have his problem.” Draco picked up ‘Alchemical Potions and their Magical Workings’ and sought out a question to ask her. 

“Harry misses you,” she said for the fiftieth time since he’d gotten back.

  From behind the book she heard him sigh. “Look, Hermione, I know you mean well, but I just don’t care. He can miss me forever and I don’t care. He was an arsehole to me for months and now he misses me and I’m supposed to be jumping up and down for joy for it? I’m not going to. I don’t care.” 

“I think you do,” she said, “I think you care a lot.” 

“Stop it, please, I can’t stand this.” 

“He understands, he doesn’t want to push you and if he could get a time turner and go back and change it all he would, but he can’t Draco. Don’t you understand that you’re punishing him, but you’re punishing yourself too! It’s like cutting your nose off to spite your face. You love him, you’re just so pissed off you can’t bring yourself to admit it.”

  ”Just stop it, Hermione; please just let me deal with this. School will be over soon and I just want to go h…”

  She pulled him to her and hugged him tight. He didn’t resist and she thought he might melt a little and sink into the embrace. He didn’t. He stiffened and after a short time he pushed himself back and picked up his book again. 

“Do you want me to test you?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she replied. He hadn’t run away and he was still talking to her. She wanted him to open up and confide in her, but in lieu of that she would accept a potions quiz. It was a start. 

********   

Draco lay in bed and wondered if being a prick had always been such hard work. He’d never noticed it before and so he assumed not. He had quizzed Hermione and then taken his troubled magic back to the library. First years were such easy targets, and hexes – even if they weren’t working particularly well – were always effective on them. For the first time in his life however he’d had an attack on conscience over his actions. 

He must have spent too long with Hermione that afternoon. He wouldn’t mind it so much, except that she insisted on talking to him about Harry and his feelings and if he truly wanted to discuss his feelings about Harry he would just take it up with Harry. 

Well, he probably wouldn’t, but he liked the self righteous thought. 

It was night now and he thoroughly expected that he would not be disturbed until morning, which was a shame, because he couldn’t sleep and someone – no matter how unwelcome – would at least offer some kind of distraction from the fact that he could not sleep. 

He hadn’t slept for so long now that he had almost forgotten what true sleep was like. He could doze, but even that did not last long. He could take the sleeping draught but he just threw it back up and it was ineffective. He simply could not sleep.   

It was not a problem he had expected. It had come just as he had thought he was doing well. He had closed his eyes on his first night here, closed them to sleep and he had seen it. There, at the foot of his bed he had seen it. Fingers first, long and bony and diseased with liver spots they would curl over the dark wood footer. Then the arms would come, elbows rising up sharply and bringing in their wake the shoulders and then the face would emerge and the old man would leer at him in the darkness. He had been hiding there all along. Hiding and waiting for Draco to close his eyes. Soon the body would follow the face, pale and skinny, skin flaccid and hanging off the bones and he would crawl up the bed, like a giant spider made of flesh. 

And Draco couldn’t move. He could never move and he could never talk and he could never resist. He would always wake then, just as the face reached his and he would always scream and begin to frantically search his room to find the intruder who was always hiding, just out of view. 

It was better to never close his eyes. It was better to become ashen faced and hollowed out than to close his eyes and have that beast come for him over and over again.

  Yet he had been able to sleep at home. He had thought it through. Would he feel safer there? Would he be able to sleep as soon as he got back there? He doubted it. The answer was closer than that. Snape had been there. His godfather had been there to watch over him. Draco had fallen asleep in his bed and Snape had sat in a chair and watched over him all night. It would be humiliating though, to go down to the dungeons and ask if he could sleep there. Hermione would be there and she would look at him with that same sickening sympathy she had reserved for him in the last two weeks. They would let him stay though. And if he could stay then he could sleep and he might feel better.

  He was desperate for sleep. 

He was desperate for somewhere that he could feel safe. It had crossed his mind that he could go to his father, and one night he had actually grabbed his pillow and his cat and decided to go – but then it struck him; Lucius had no powers now. Lucius had not been able to stop the beast before and he had less of a chance now. Lucius couldn’t protect him, he never could! 

Which left Harry. 

Harry; who he would never go to. Harry; who would let him in and take care of him and he knew it. Harry; about who his resolve was starting to falter every night he lay in his bed awake. 

He yawned and stared at the ceiling, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. He let them close and his body began to relax. 

And there it was. Fingers first; curling over the end of the bed.   Draco Malfoy’s eyes snapped open, his heart beating fast. He could have cried, he felt so sick. He needed sleep. He needed it. 

He swung his legs out of bed. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he told himself, “it’s just so I can get some sleep.”

  He grabbed his pillow, his navitas and Miss Kitty and sighed as he decided that he was desperate enough to pay Harry a visit. 

*******   

Harry had been in bed an hour and he couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and he’d turned and then he’d made a half arsed attempt at masturbating and finally he just lay in the dark and wished for sleep. 

Tomorrow was the last exam. Potions; what a way to finish. He felt that he had done well so far, in spite of all the crap he was doing well. Potions was the exam he was dreading, mostly because it was the one exam that he could not make up for in the practical aspect. He was a terrible potions maker. He was terrible at potions in general. He had no idea why he thought he could pass it.   

Hermione had promised faithfully to give him a last minute review, go through formulas that could possibly come up. He would be doing this instead of having lunch, and then they would go to the pub to celebrate after. Not that he felt like celebrating anything, there wasn’t much to celebrate.

  God he hoped he didn’t fall asleep in the exam. 

He closed his eyes and tried again. That was his problem, he kept trying to sleep. He was so busy trying to sleep that he was waking himself up. Sleeping should not be hard work. 

There was a knock at his door. It was soft and had he actually been asleep he would have missed it entirely. He contemplated ignoring it. It was no doubt Neville having an anxiety attack because his Gran kept sending him owls telling him he was a failure, something everyone agreed was pretty harsh considering he hadn’t even received his results. Harry just didn’t understand why Neville had decided that Harry was the best person to confide in. Knowing Neville he probably thought that he was taking Harry’s mind off his own troubles. 

The knock came again, more insistent this time, but still soft. Harry silently reasoned that had it been urgent the knocking would have been louder. 

But as he wasn’t sleeping anyway Harry figured he could talk to Neville for an hour or so. He lit the room and opened the door. And then he froze. 

Draco tried for a few seconds to look defiant, but he was clutching his pillow and his cat and he couldn’t look defiant while was doing that. The look faltered and then he just looked distressed. 

“Draco…” Harry had to take a breath, “Are you okay?” 

“I can’t sleep,” Draco said, utterly defeated, “I need to sleep.” 

“I haven’t been sleeping either,” Harry offered, but Draco continued.   ”When I close my eyes I see him. I think he’s there and he’s waiting for me to fall asleep. I need to sleep.” 

Harry reached out to him, his fingers brushed Draco’s pale cheek and Draco didn’t pull away. He seemed to sway in the doorway. 

“Are you alright? You look ill, can I get you something?” 

“No,” Draco swayed again, “I’m fine, I just need to sleep.” 

He didn’t look fine. He sounded confused, as though he would break down. 

“Draco, truly, you look sick. Can I get Madam Pomfrey?” 

“No…I want to sleep,” Draco screwed up his eyes, as though he had a headache. “I can’t stop thinking…I keep closing my eyes and he keeps coming for me. I haven’t slept for a week and I need to sleep.” 

Harry reached for Draco’s pillow and tossed it onto his bed, he then took his hand and pulled him gently into the room. “Do you want Ron’s bed?” 

“No, Weasley tried to kill himself in it.” Draco dropped Miss Kitty onto Harry’s bed and then he climbed into it without hesitation. 

Harry almost jumped for joy. His mind burst into delighted shouts, his face split into his first real smile in weeks. But then he had to wonder – was he supposed to sleep in Ron’s bed? 

“Hurry up and come to bed,” Draco mumbled into his pillow. He had rolled onto his side and had moved against the wall to make room for Harry. 

Harry slipped in behind him and spooned around him instinctively. 

“You’re not going to leave me alone…” 

“No,” Harry whispered, “I’ll stay with you all night.” He hesitantly put his arm over Draco; “Is this okay?”

  Draco nodded into his pillow. 

Harry inhaled the scent of Draco’s hair and closed his eyes. He pressed a soft kiss into the back of Draco’s neck and Draco shivered. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, “I’m sorry I kissed you.” 

“You need to shave,” Draco murmured. He yawned and his eyes closed slowly. “Hold on tight,” he said so quietly that Harry almost didn’t hear him. Almost.   

Harry whispered for darkness and held Draco a little tighter. He would keep Draco safe for as long as Draco needed him to. He would love him forever and he would hold on to him that night. 

******   

Hermione was banging on Harry’s door and was finding herself getting more than a little distressed when he refused to answer. The tower was essentially empty, everyone having gone down to breakfast already. Harry was supposed to have been up long ago to revise potions theory before the exam started in two hours time, now he would be lucky to finish breakfast…and hopefully have a shower. 

“Harry!” she yelled and banged louder, “Harry, wake up! I got out of bed for this!” 

But there was still no reply. She really didn’t want to go into his room, Harry was smelling pretty awful lately. Then again, she and Lavender had lived in filth for a while. She lifted the latch and pushed the door open. 

“Harry!” She went to the bed where Harry was a largish lump under the summer blanket. She saw a slender wrist that became a pale hand clutching at one of the pillows. That was not Harry’s hand.  She pulled the blanket back a little and saw blond hair and then Draco’s face in profile. He was asleep, looking so peaceful that she ached at the prospect of having to wake him. Harry’s face was pressed into Draco’s shoulder and Hermione sighed sadly as she gently shook him. 

Harry jumped and blinked and involuntarily squeezed Draco too tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione grimaced and chewed her lip, “It’s late, Harry, you have to get up.” 

Harry blinked again and struggled to sit up. “What time is it?” 

“Eight.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Yep.” 

“I need to have a shower.” He looked at Draco still sleeping. “I can’t leave him.” 

“You don’t have to,” Hermione said uneasily, “he has to wake up too.” 

“I’m awake,” Draco mumbled and then a shudder ran through him. He sat up suddenly, as though realising that he had actually had some sleep. 

“It’s alright,” Harry said, trying to sooth him, “you’re safe.”

  Draco reached across Harry for his bottle of Navitas on the nightstand and swigged a mouthful straight from the bottle, Hermione gagged just watching it. 

“God that’s foul,” Draco rasped under his breath. He stoppered the bottle and put it back on the table and then he looked at Harry a little sheepishly. “Thank you,” he said hesitantly, “for sleeping with me.” 

“You know I always will…whenever you want me to.” 

Draco nodded but couldn’t look Harry in the eye just yet. 

“I’m…” Hermione shuffled from foot to foot, “I’m going to go down to breakfast. I’ll see you both there?” 

“Yeah, we’ll be down soon,” Harry told her and then after she was gone he turned back to Draco. “How do you feel?” he asked. 

“Better,” Draco said quietly, “a lot better.” 

“Good.” 

They both bowed their heads.

  Draco sighed and murmured “shit” under his breath. He rocked back against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. “Harry…” 

Harry looked at him hopefully. 

“This is so stupid,” Draco said almost to himself. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“Stop saying that.” 

“I…” 

“I know that you’re sorry. I know you didn’t want any of this to happen and I know you didn’t mean to kiss Fred Weasley, I know all of it…but apologising for it over and over again isn’t helping.”   ”I just want you to know,” Harry said helplessly, “I want you to know that I tried to get to you in time. I hate myself for this…” 

“Fuck, Harry, just stop it!” Draco scrambled out of the bed and began collecting his belongings. 

“I love you so much, Draco.” 

Draco looked at him exasperated. “I’m going to get dressed, I’ll see you at breakfast.” 

“Draco…” 

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” Draco repeated, but it was softer this time. He looked at Harry meaningfully. “Everything is fine, Harry. Have a shower and I will see you downstairs.” 

*******   

“Wow, I thought you weren’t coming down,” Lavender said as Hermione sat down at the table beside her. “It’s really late.” 

“I know, I was trying to wake Harry up.” She reached for what was left of the porridge. “Anyway, I thought you’d be the one sleeping in. Exams are finished, I didn’t expect to see you surface until midday.”

  ”Are you joking?” Lavender grinned, “I am going to Diagon Ally to see my shop this morning, and then I’m going to look at some new robes and have lunch, eat ice cream and generally enjoy a full day of shopping.” She sipped her tea, looking markedly more relaxed than she had in two weeks. 

“I wish I could come,” Hermione said wistfully, “I haven’t done any decent shopping for ages.” 

“You’ll have to do some soon,” Lavender pointed out, “you’ll need maternity robes soon.” 

Hermione looked down at herself. It was true that the only robes she actually possessed were her school robes and the set of formal robes she had purchased for going to dinner with Viktor last year – they were still torn from where Severus had thrown her down in the forest. She smiled at the sudden memory and began to squirm, perhaps she could catch him before classes started – surely there was time for a quickie. 

“That is a wicked grin,” Lavender said, “you cannot be thinking about anything good.” 

“I was just remembering something. I guess I do need some new robes though. I’ll have to wait until we go home though, I don’t want to catch the Knight Bus just to go shopping.” 

“I can pick you up something nice to wear on the train home if you like, I don’t think you’re going to fit into your jeans.” 

Hermione doubted it too, now that her belly had started to grow she was starting to show. She was glad that school was ending because questions would have become inevitable. “That would be nice if you could. Just something plain, I’ll give you some money before you leave.” 

To Lavender the idea of buying something plain was laughable, but she nodded anyway. 

“Can I sit here?” 

Hermione smiled up at Draco, “of course you can. Did you get some sleep?” 

“Yes,” Draco said and he sounded relieved as he dropped himself down on the bench, “good sleep too.” He looked over the table, “is there anything decent left to eat?” 

“You mostly eat fruit and stuff don’t you?” Lavender asked, knowing the answer but just voicing the question, “there’s plenty of that, but I don’t think you’ll get any toast or bacon or that kind of thing.”

  Draco attempted a basic accio to bring the fruit salad to him and found that the bowl only managed to rock a little. He sighed. He could scarce wait until he could stop taking the potions that were robbing him of his magic. Hermione drew the bowl up to them and asked what else he wanted. “Yogurt, please…is that Porridge you have there?” 

“Yep.” 

“Some of that too please.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand how this potion affects me. I can’t do basic charms, I can’t Apparate and I have problems with Transfiguring, but I can still do things like hexes.” 

“I think it might have something to do with the control required,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “With charms you are often trying to bring things to you or hold them in a pattern, but hexes are just a thrown spell, you’re just tossing them out, there’s less skill involved.” 

Draco shrugged and seemed impressed by the answer. She was probably right. He served himself portions of the food. He had to admit that eating so much in the day was not his favourite thing to do, but he had to keep himself healthy or else all the potions he was taking would be rendered useless. For the first time he was determined to take care of himself. 

They ate in companionable silence for a while, listening to the occasional burst of excited chatter from Lavender. Draco asked her to get him some sweets while she was in London and even offered her the use of his carriage. She declined, preferring the speed of Apparating from place to place. Draco privately thought her a philistine, but shrugged and smiled and said nothing. 

It was close to nine by the time Harry arrived and the only people still left eating breakfast were students who had exams that day and teachers who were finishing up and getting ready to leave and head off to classes. 

Lavender took one look at him when he walked in and could help but cry out across the hall “My God, he’s clean!”

  Showered and shaved, Harry blushed and pulled a face at Lavender who was chortling at her own humour. He approached the table and stood awkwardly for a moment until Draco shuffled Hermione across to make room. Harry sat down beside him and found that he was breathing a sigh of relief.

  Draco was looking at him in a perturbed way and while Hermione and Lavender discreetly turned to each other to have a quiet discussion about clothing he cleared his throat. 

“I was thinking,” Draco said softly, “that I might not feel…safe…at home either.” 

“Oh?” Harry felt a tiny light of hope start to burn in his stomach. 

“I thought that if you wanted to…then maybe you could…you could come with me…when school finishes…if you want to.” 

“I could do that,” Harry agreed, “I’d like to do that.” 

“I was going to leave tonight,” Draco bowed his head, feeling more than a little self conscious, “but I know the leaving feast is on Sunday and you would want to stay for that?” 

“We were going to get the train home on Monday morning,” Harry said, “Hermione doesn’t want to get the bus and it’s the last time we’ll be able to catch it…why don’t you stay and come to London on the train with us?” 

“I…” Draco began to chew at his lip in the same way that Hermione would do when she was nervous, “I don’t really want to go to London…it’s too close…” 

“I’ll look after you,” Harry whispered. “Snape is going to meet us there and he’s going to drive Hermione to Wilshire…I’m sure he’ll have room for two more.” Harry hesitated, “I don’t know what kind of a driver he is.” 

“He’s a good driver,” Draco assured him, “I’ve been in a car with him before.” 

“So will you come on the train? Send Non home and come on the train?” 

Draco nodded silently and under the table his hand found Harry’s and he twined their fingers together. “There’s only healthy food left,” he said referring to the breakfast selection, “you’ll have to starve.” 

Harry didn’t think so, he felt he could probably live on the feeling that was rushing through him at that moment for a good solid year. 

“Are you sure you want to come to the Manor? I know how much you like your house.” 

“It’s not really my house. I mean I own it, but I’ve barely lived in it and I think Ron and Pansy want to knock the back wall out and put a conservatory in.” 

“Eww, the bane of Muggle England.”

  Harry laughed. “Well, it is pretty dark in there. But it’s Ron’s house…he has better decorating taste than I do and he’s the one who is making it a home.” 

Draco untangled their fingers and poured tea for them both. “You should eat something,” he said, repeating Harry’s usual advice to him, you’ll need your strength to get through this exam.” He looked at Harry and a smile finally reached his lips. “You can bring anything you want with you,” he said, “you know that I want you there…not just to watch over me.” 

“I was hoping.” 

“So you can bring whatever you need, whatever you want to have there.” 

“Buckbeak.”

  Draco almost dropped the teapot. He placed it down so quickly that it clattered against the plates. “P…Pardon?” 

“Buckbeak, the Hippogriff, you remember him?” 

“Err…yes…he…he stomped me!” 

“Well, only because you aggravated him – and you have to admit that you were pretty good at aggravating everyone back then. He’s been living in the attic at Grimmauld Place for years now…” 

“Well good, he’s used to enclosed places.” 

“But it would be better for him to be outside. He could live in the stables. I saw them at Christmas, they aren’t close to the house and he’d have a great time down there.” 

Draco’s mouth was gaping open. 

“Well?” 

“I...I don’t…” 

Harry looked at him as though he would beg. 

“He’ll be right down the back of the garden?” 

“Absolutely, and I’ll take care of him, you won’t even know he’s there.”

  Draco didn’t believe that, but he didn’t want to ruin this so soon. “I guess we could…”

  But he was interrupted by the sound of boots marching across the flagstones and through the huge doorway of the Great Hall. 

“What the hell?” Harry craned his neck around and his eyes widened.

  Cornelius Fudge had just marched ten Aurors into the Great Hall. 

“What is he doing here?” Hermione hissed, “You’d think he would be busy putting his office in order before he leaves next week.”

  Fudge had a strange smile on his face. He was managing to look smug and malicious at the same time and he marched himself between the tables towards the High Table, almost whistling jovially as he did so. 

“I think he is putting his office in order,” Harry said nervously, “and he has some kind of business here.” 

“Ah Dumbledore,” Fudge said loudly and with a distinct tone of amusement in his voice, “glad to see you’re all still at breakfast.” 

“Only just Cornelius I can assure you,” Dumbledore replied pleasantly, “I believe we were about to vacate the room.” 

“Well, not to worry. This will only take a moment of your time.” 

“I see,” Dumbledore’s eyes were not twinkling behind his glasses, and Harry was fairly certain that the Head Master was wondering just what mischief Fudge was seeking out here. “And to what do we owe this pleasure, Cornelius?” 

“I’m afraid I am not pleasure bent today, Dumbledore.” He did not sound as though it wasn’t a pleasure, in fact he sounded very pleased indeed. “I’m afraid we have received news of the most alarming nature about one of your Professors, Dumbledore, and we have been forced to act.” 

The same thought immediately rushed through Minerva, Snape and Harry’s brains. Krum! But how could they have found out? Who could have seen? 

“I’m not quite following you,” Dumbledore said with muted concern, there was no point showing Cornelius Fudge just how worried he was. 

Fudge held out a scroll of paper and gave a quick glance to the curious students who were still in the Hall. That same smug smile was back on his face. ”This is an order of suspension, Dumbledore, ordered by the Ministry and signed by the guardians of the school. I daresay that you are thinking that once your good friend Weasley becomes Minister you will be able to have it reversed, but I don’t think that will be possible this time.” 

“So, you have finally devised a way to get me out at last, Cornelius?” 

“Oh, not you, Dumbledore.” Fudge was positively enjoying this. “No no.” He took a step back and cleared his throat before announcing, loud and clear. “This is for Professor Severus Snape.” 

Beside Harry, Hermione made a violent movement and he stilled her with a firm hand. “Don’t,” he whispered sharply, “don’t make it worse.” 

Fudge was taking a moment to gloat, noting that several students were grinning in amazement – Snape was evidently not well liked. “Professor Severus Snape, you are hereby relieved of your position of Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, effective immediately. It seems that the good professor here thinks that relationships of a sexual nature with his students is appropriate behaviour. The board of Governors does not agree however, and the Ministry cannot condone such behaviour – no matter who is in charge.” 

Snape, Minerva and Harry let out simultaneous breaths of relief. Hermione could not understand why Severus was looking so relieved – he’d just lost his job and Fudge was making him out to be a pervert! It would take her another two hours to realise that it could have been a great deal worse.

  A rush of conversation filled the hall. Some students were openly gaping while many of the fifth years, most of whom would be returning the following year and had expected to have Snape as a Professor, were gossiping with abandon. How could this have happened? Who would be fool enough to sleep with Snape? Had he forced them? Was it rape? 

“And our own investigations have revealed that the girl is pregnant!” 

“Oh dear God,” Hermione whimpered. 

“My Aurors will assist you in clearing out your chambers, Professor, and then you will be required to leave the premises.” Fudge was positively beaming now, having finally removed at least one of Dumbledore’s most trusted. He had searched high and low for something on Minerva McGonagall but had found nothing. When the letter from the now dead Museum Curator was passed on to him the previous day, he had almost danced for joy. It had not taken much to search the Ministries records and discover that Snape had recently been registered at St Mungo’s as the father of the young Miss Granger’s unborn child. They had also given notice of intention to marry, but he saw no reason to bother with that information. Snape was out and he could count his blessings on that score. 

Severus stood up, tall and willowy and looking very much as though he would like to hex Fudge into oblivion. A smile barely touched his lips and his black eyes flicked over the wondering faces staring back at him. 

“Cornelius…” Dumbledore began, but Severus stopped him. 

“Your Aurors will not be necessary, Minister, My chambers are essentially empty. I will be gone within the hour.”

  Hermione shot up out of her place at the table, unable to sit still any longer. Harry tried in vain to grab for her, but only succeeded in grasping a fist full of useless robes. He sighed and stood up too. 

“This…this isn’t fair!” Hermione blurted out, her bottom lip started to tremble, “you vindictive old…”

  ”Miss Granger,” Minerva entered the fray now with a warning tone, “sit down.” 

“Oh yes, Miss Granger,” Fudge said maliciously, “we would hate anything terrible to happen to your baby. ” 

“Is that a threat?” Harry demanded. 

“Not at all, Mr. Potter. I am merely showing concern for Miss Granger’s health…and the health of her child.” 

Hermione looked rebellious and Harry feared that she might suddenly draw her wand. Instead she looked to Severus who responded by giving her a pleading look to be calm. Hermione then did something she never did, she burst into tears. 

Severus sighed and realised that he was going to need to do something about it. He gave Minerva’s hand a squeeze and stepped down from behind the High Table. He went to Hermione and gently grasped her shoulders. 

“It’s going to be alright,” he said, “now go and get ready for your exam and I will meet you in Hogsmeade once you’re finished.” 

“But, Severus, what about…” 

“Don’t worry about anything. Everything is fine, we are fine. I will go down to Hogsmeade, I have no doubt that Minerva will come with me, and I will meet you there later. Don’t worry about this. It is not the end of the world.”

  She couldn’t believe how calm he was. She wanted to shake him and scream at him to panic. He had lost his job. Everyone was staring at them. He was being humiliated! And then it struck her – he was not humiliated by being with her and he had to be calm, for her sake. 

“Go and finish your exams,” he said again.

  And then Severus Snape walked quietly out of the Great Hall. 

*****   

Hermione was running down the corridor away from the Great Hall, wanting only to go somewhere to escape the open staring of the students around her. Harry was jogging along beside her, telling her to calm down and think of the baby.

  She suddenly ground to a halt. “Oh God,” she said, “Oh god, it’s my fault, it’s my fault…it’s all my fault!” 

“Hey,” Lavender soothed gently, rubbing her back in a motherly way, “it’s not your fault. Did you send a complaint to the Ministry? No of course you didn’t.” 

“But…if I didn’t pursue him…if I’d just left him alone…” 

“Then he’d be a miserable git,” Draco retorted, panting a little from the run. He scowled at Colin Creevy, who was almost in tears because Ginny Weasley had just won the entire ‘Who’s shagging Snape?’ pool. She was demanding her winnings because she was leaving school that night, apparently she had some job that she was starting and the unexpected wind fall was just what she needed to get started. Even Ginny didn’t know that the pool was close to five thousand Galleons. 

Hermione turned on Draco. “At least he’d be a miserable git with a job!” she screeched. 

“Actually, he didn’t look all that upset,” Lavender said reasonably. 

“He was probably relieved,” Harry replied and then realised that he probably shouldn’t have said that. What had happened with Krum was not something that anyone knew about. “He was probably sick of all the sneaking around,” he finished, lamely trying to cover up his faux pas. 

“This can’t be happening,” Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief, “I’ve ruined his life.” 

“No you haven’t!” Draco snapped irritably. “Fucking hell, do you think he was happy? He hated teaching, he always did. He hated teaching potions but he stayed because he was too lazy to go out and find something better!” 

They all stared at him in astonishment. 

“Well, maybe he’s not lazy,” Draco conceded, “but you see my point. He’s incredibly talented, there’s plenty he could do!” 

Lavender and Harry were nodding in agreement and Hermione was looking at them as though they were thoroughly insane. She was almost five months pregnant and the father of that child was no suddenly without a profession! 

Shameful visions of accepting charity bundles from Molly Weasley came unbidden to her brain. And then hope, the Weasley’s had raised seven children with practically nothing, so surely they could raise one. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked. 

“I think so,” she sniffled. 

“You’ll be fine,” he said, “Draco is right, Snape might be a sour faced old git, but he is talented. You never know, he might find a job that makes him happy.” 

“Yeah,” Draco added, “I hear the Curatorship of the Museum is up for grabs.” 

Once again they all stared at him astonished. 

“What? I’m not allowed to joke about it?”

  And inexplicably Hermione started to laugh. 

********   

Lavender Apparated to London shortly after her friends went back in to the great hall to sit exams. She was eager to see the shop that her father had found for her and she met him in Diagon Ally outside Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour. She had taken great care with her dress. Her father was notoriously conservative and he preferred to see his daughter dressed in plain robes with no real adornment. Whilst Lavender would normally balk at the very idea of being seen in public looking for all intents and purposes like someone heading off to a convent, for the sake of her future she was prepared to do it now.

  And the shop was perfect. Enid Broomsby, the most popular realtor in Diagon Ally was showing them through the space and Lavender was already imagining shelves filled with beautiful bottles and wonderful smells. The shop itself consisted of the shop front, two rooms at back with a kitchen and a toilet. There was also a flat upstairs that could be included in the lease if she wanted to live above it. 

For Lavender it seemed perfect. 

“Of course, the flat is completely furnished,” Enid Broomsby said as soon as Lavender had shown any interest, “you wouldn’t need to do anything to it.” 

The shop itself needed work however. A coat of paint. Shelves and cabinets and the front windows needed to be re-glazed. It was all within reach. 

“How much is the weekly rent?” Milo Brown asked, being ever practical and bringing a frown to his daughters face. 

“With the flat included it would come to three hundred and fifty galleons a week.” 

Lavender looked hopeful, it wasn’t as much as she’d thought, but evidently her father wasn’t impressed. He was asking what the minimum lease was and didn’t appear happy when he was told that a year was the shortest lease they could provide.   

“I will take at least that to get the place established, dad,” Lavender told him; she was adding a counter and a cash register to her fantasy. “It’s perfect. There is plenty of space and a workroom at the back as well as storage…” when he said nothing, she pressed on. “And I could live in the flat upstairs, so it really is a bargain.” 

“And how do you plan to pay the rent and all of you additional costs if these…products…don’t sell?” 

Lavender pursed her lips and reminded herself not to get on her high horse. “They will sell, dad. The test products I put in Madam Malkin's sold out within days and she has been asking for more.” 

“Yes, Lavender, but Madam Malkin is an established and respected business, people will buy from her because she is a trusted name. Why don’t you start small, you could supply Madam Malkin until you become more established?” 

Lavender watched as every tiny detail of her fantasy store disappeared like tiny soap bubbles popping in the air. “But dad, you said you would help me. We talked about this before school started, you promised you’d help me if I went back to school and passed NEWTS.” 

“I said I would help you, Lavender, but I also want to know that my money is not going down the drain.” 

“You wouldn’t be! I will pay you back, dad. I know it’s a risk, but you have to start somewhere.” 

“Half,” he said, “I’ll give you half what you need for the start up costs. If you are serious about opening the shop you will come up with the other half.” 

Lavender gaped at her father and didn’t know how to handle it graciously. How was she supposed to come up with the other half? Hold up Grigotts? She had no idea that she could apply for a loan, and even if she did know then the idea of a business plan utterly evaded her. She could scarce believe that the likes of Fred and George Weasley could have left school and opened a shop and be successful business men right now – and she was having problems with set up costs. 

“What about a business partner?” Her father suggested. 

“But you’re supposed to be my business partner!” Lavender wailed. 

“Lavender, I work for the Ministry. I can’t afford to be your business partner. I will give you half, that’s my final offer.” 

Lavender scowled. Draco had money, and now that he and Harry appeared to be together again he might well be open to the possibility of loaning her some money – or becoming a business partner. She could at least ask him. His last exam finished at around two and she had no doubt that he would go down to The Three Broomsticks with Harry and Hermione to have a drink and see what was happening with Professor Snape. 

The very talented Professor Snape. The very talented and unemployed Professor Snape. A smile began to grow as she doubted her ability to actually ask him. She had never had a conversation with him. Truth be told she was very much like the rest of the school, he kind of scared her. But perhaps he was receptive, and perhaps he could be reasoned with.

  And perhaps he might give her half of what she needed. 

******   

“You really have to lift your head up off the table, Severus.” Minerva really didn’t know why she was telling him to sit up; she was having trouble keeping herself upright. As soon as his final trunk had been sent off to the Fenn and they had left the castle, the carefully constructed calm that he had kept around him crumbled like a pie crust. They had reached The Three Broomsticks before midday and had begun drinking a drinking binge that was now two hours old and he was drunker than she had ever seen him…and she had seen him pretty drunk. 

She was getting more and more depressed as the day progressed. Who would have thought that she would miss that scowling face over breakfast so terribly? 

“Severus, if you don’t lift your head up Rosmerta will throw us out.” 

Severus mumbled something that sounded like “Hogs Head.” 

Minerva patted his back gently. “You told Hermione that you would be here.” 

At the mention of Hermione’s name he lifted his head – and looked thoroughly shocked at his surroundings. “She’d work out where we’d gone,” he said with the earnest sincerity of a drunk, “she’s very clever you know.” 

“Yes dear,” Minerva hiccupped, “I know she is very clever.” 

“Are you getting more drinks in then?” he asked her sincerely, “they cut me off last round.” 

Minerva arched an eyebrow, but she still pushed herself out of the booth and went to the bar. Rosmerta gave her a terrible look when she swore both drinks were for her and thankfully didn’t comment on the fact that she had never had a fire whiskey in her life. When she returned to the table she found that Severus once again had his face on the table. 

“Drinks, Severus.” 

He lifted his head and down the whiskey horribly fast. “Oh Gods, what have I done?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Destroyed your stomach lining springs to mind,” Minerva said disgusted. 

“I’m getting married,” he said in horror, “I have a child coming and I have no job. Oh my god I’m going to have to hock the family furniture…and it’s not worth anything!”   

“Calm down, Severus.” 

“We’re going to live in squalor,” he wailed and banged his head on the table. 

“Oh for goodness sake, Severus,” Minerva scolded him as though he was a student, “you’ll get another job. You are young and you have many skills that will make you very employable. I daresay that Albus will talk to Arthur and he will get you something at the Ministry.” 

Severus lifted his head again and revealed a nasty red spot on his forehead which Minerva was sure would turn into a bruise by the next morning. “Nothing with Muggles,” he said desperately, “doesn’t Weasley have a thing about Muggles?” 

“I don’t think Arthur would be fool enough to put you anywhere near Muggle relations.” She sipped at her cherry brandy and felt a little sick. She decided it was best to slow down. She also decided that it would serve Arthur Weasley well to not let Severus near anyone, Muggle or otherwise – that was is Arthur would give him a job.   

Of course he would, she told herself, Arthur would do it because Albus would ask him to. 

Neither of them saw Lavender Brown enter the pub. Look about until she saw them and make her way to the table. They didn’t notice that she was there until she was standing at the table addressing them. 

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, how are you this afternoon?” 

Minerva jumped and Severus groaned and placed his head back on the table. 

Lavender’s bravado faltered for a moment as she looked at the mass of untidy black hair on the table, she looked uneasily to Minerva. 

“Are exams finished?” Minerva asked sharply. 

“Um, no. Well, they are for me, I finished yesterday – but Hermione is still in potions.” 

The very word brought a whine from the mass of hair. 

“I was hoping to have a word with Professor Snape,” she said, “but maybe he isn’t feeling the best right now.” 

Minerva looked at Severus and then grabbed a handful of hair and lifted his head off the table. He looked at Lavender with bleary eyes. “Are you getting the drinks in then?” he slurred. 

“Severus, I think you’ve had enough,” Minerva said briskly. 

“I’ll have a fire whiskey,” he continued and Lavender turned and made for the bar. 

She decided that she would have to sober him up a little at least if she was to talk to him. She asked Madam Rosmerta to give her something that looked like Fire Whiskey but wasn’t. Moments later she returned to the table with a Butter Beer for herself and a cold tea over ice for him. 

“I’ve been to London,” Lavender said brightly. She had just spent the last few hours convincing herself that she could talk to him, regardless of his drunken state she was not going to give up now. 

“What is it with young people Apparating all over the country side?” Minerva asked, thankful for any conversation that didn’t involve Severus bemoaning his life, “Once you get a few years behind you Miss Brown you will realise that Apparating is not such a brilliant choice for long distance travel. It does little more than deplete the strength of your magic for a good long while after. You should only use it for emergencies.” 

Lavender was taken aback. She had never considered that before. She had often wondered why so many people bothered with broomstick, carriages and buses when they could just pop here and there, now she knew. Then she scowled as she realised that she had been turned from her mission, albeit momentarily. “I’m opening a shop,” she explained, putting herself back on track, “a perfume shop.” 

“Oh now that sounds lovely,” Minerva said, impressed by her gumption.   

“Thank you,” Lavender said and smiled with pleasure, “well, that’s why I went to London. I was looking at the shop space. It’s a fantastic position, only a few doors down from Madam Malkin. My father is going to invest so that I can get it opened before Christmas.”

  At this Severus lifted his head off the table of his own volition. He knew Milo Brown (something Lavender was unaware of) and he knew that man had to open his arse to extract his wallet. The idea that he was going to invest in his daughter’s foolhardy venture was utterly ridiculous – and something that ridiculous was going to cut through any drunken stupor Severus could get himself in. “Your father is not going to give you money to sell coloured water that people could make at home,” he slurred. 

“Well, not everyone has time to brew their own fragrances, Professor,” Lavender said diplomatically, “and not everyone is proficient in judging what scents go well together.”

  Severus just stared at her in disbelief. 

“Oh pull your head out, Severus,” Minerva scowled and shoved him in the shoulder. “You know how to throw a few things together and come up with something acceptable, but less than a quarter of our kind can brew a decent potion, and fewer still can make a decent scent.” 

Severus was now staring at Minerva with disbelief. 

Minerva turned to Lavender. “Severus is of the opinion that once they leave school everyone sets up a little potions room in their home and brews everyday to keep their memories fresh. He conveniently forgets that he failed most of his students.” 

“I failed the dunderheads,” he said in his own defence. 

“You failed the majority of your students, Severus.” Minerva turned back to Lavender. “I think it sounds like a lovely idea. Would you do soaps and lotions and things like that?” 

“I was thinking that would be the way to go,” Lavender said. “I put some sample gift packs and fragrances in Madam Malkin’s last summer and they sold out. I tried to keep up to her demand, but I got bogged down with school. But I took that as a promising start. What Madam Malkin said would work really well would be to sell a lot of basics, but her more wealthy clients wanted to know if they could get some quality high end perfumes.” She looked meaningfully at the dishevelled Professor who had just drunk his cold tea and was looking at the empty glass as though he had just consumed poison. “And while I am very good at doing the basics – I can’t make fragrances like you do.”

  Severus looked confused for a moment and then realisation dawned on his face. “Oh…no no no. There is just no…absolutely not…” 

“But sir, hear me out first…” 

“There is nothing to hear out.” He was sobering up very fast now and Lavender found that her heartbeat was speeding up with him. “I am not doing that!” 

“But Sir, there is money in it, I swear to you. You could work out the back, there is a good space for a work room…or you could even work at home. Hermione says you have an amazing garden at your house…”

  Severus was looking increasingly horrified.

  ”And you could work alone, you wouldn’t have to deal with customers or anything, I will handle that side of it.” 

“I am not working for you brewing perfume, Miss Brown. I am eminently employable and I expect an offer from the Ministry very soon.” 

It was Minerva’s turn to look at him with disbelief. 

“I am not asking you to work for me, Professor. I’m asking you to come and work with me. We could be partners. My father is going to give me half the start up costs and…” 

Oh,” he began to smile nastily, “you want money. ” 

Lavender swallowed. “Well…that is part of it…but I am more interested in your talents…” 

“I don’t have any money.” 

Lavender fell silent. 

“You could get a loan,” Minerva said brightly. “Gringotts would give you a loan.” 

“Gringotts is not going to give her a bloody loan,” Severus said silkily. 

“Well perhaps not, but they would give both of you a loan.” 

His eyes widened. “You cannot be agreeing with this madness!” 

“What is so mad about it?” Minerva asked plainly, “it is an excellent idea. You just got through moaning about not wanting to work for the Ministry.” 

“I said I didn’t want to work with Muggles!” 

“Lavender is giving you the opportunity to work by yourself! You wouldn’t even have to leave your house!” 

“Do I have to remind you that I have a child coming in a matter of months? Investing money that I don’t have in a business that may or may not turn a profit might not be the wisest career choice just yet.” 

“Oh stop hiding Severus. You’re not going to starve while you live next door to Draco Malfoy.” 

“And now you want me to accept charity?” 

“Oh for goodness sake…” 

Lavender watched them argue, wanting nothing more than to hug and kiss Minerva McGonagall all over. She had a wonderful way of being able to cut him off at every turn. Had it been Lavender alone she would have run away by now. 

“Hermione would want you to do something that makes you happy,” Minerva retorted to his latest argument. 

“And you think making perfume is going to make me happy?” He asked incredulous. 

“Yes! That is what you have always done for relaxation…” 

“No I bloody didn’t!” 

“Yes you bloody did!” 

“I am more likely to fucking wank for relaxation than make fucking perfume!”   

Lavender spat her Butter Beer all over the table.   

“I don’t particularly care about your masturbatory habits, Severus, but I can assure you that you made perfumes for relaxations,” Minerva replied unfazed. 

“Don’t you tell me what I did when I didn’t…old woman!”

  Minerva hit him over the head. 

“Wow, first he gets sacked and now he’s being beaten by a woman.” Draco grinned at the very sight of it as he approached the table. 

“Why is she hitting him?” Hermione rushed over with a look of horror while Harry shook his head and propelled himself and Draco to the table after her. 

One sniff told Hermione that he had been drinking quite a lot.

  ”Well look,” Minerva said sweetly, “Hermione is here now; she can tell us what she thinks of the idea.” 

“What idea?” Hermione slipped into the booth beside him, concerned that her beloved was being assaulted – by a 79 year old woman. 

“Lavender was suggesting that Severus create perfumes…” 

“Oooh, for her shop?” Hermione asked, “That’s a fantastic idea!” 

“Oh god not you too.” Severus returned his head to the table, deciding that this was just too awful to be part of. 

“Well more than that,” Lavender explained excitedly, “I was suggesting that we become partners in the shop. We would have to get a loan from Gringotts, but don’t you think it would be great? He could work from home!” 

Hermione prodded him; “doesn’t that sound fabulous, Severus?” 

“I’ll give you the money,” Draco said as he sat down, “why go to Gringotts?” 

Severus lifted his head. “Good, you give her the money and leave me out of it.” 

“Oh no, I’d want you to be involved. I’m not leaving my investment in the hands of Lavender.” 

While Lavender looked indignant, Severus was shaking his head. “I am not taking your money!” 

“I’d be loaning it to you,” Draco said with a shrug, “It can’t be much can it? How much do you need?” 

“About five thousand,” Lavender told him with a grimace. It was a lot of money and she expected Draco to scoff at it. When he shrugged again and said that it was fine, she wished that she’d asked for more.

  Severus was not so easily pleased however. “So you won’t give her the money unless I am involved?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Well it doesn’t look like Miss Brown will be getting a business partner then, does it?” 

Lavender could have cried then and there. 

A small army of voices began berating him to reconsider until he eventually struggled out of the booth and staggered to a stand.

  ”You are all insane!” He declared. “I have had a really bad day and I am really drunk and you insane people are making it worse. I’m going home.”

  ”Severus…” Hermione pleaded. 

“Hermione, I love you, I’m going home.” He staggered towards the door. 

“Severus,” Minerva called, “you should take the floo system – you’re far too drunk to Apparate.”

  He turned from the door and headed for the fireplace. He would at least take that piece of advice. 

*******   

Arthur Weasley stood with Dumbledore at the formal front gates of Hogwarts early Monday morning to watch the heavy grey Ministry carriage trundle out. Dumbledore had allowed two of the schools Theatres to be used for the journey, using the reasoning that the Theatres were faster that any of the magical beasts the Ministry used to drag carriages. He had a hidden agenda however. Theatres were highly intelligent and if Fudge decided to keep Lucius Malfoy’s location a secret from the incoming Minister, then the Theatres could lead them back. 

He need not have worried. One of the Aurors sent to take Lucius from the castle to his place of exile was Kingsley Shacklebolt

  Inside the carriage, Lucius was sitting nervously opposite the two Aurors. He had no idea who was a good Auror and who would tear him limb from limb the moment they were out of sight of the castle, and so he did not relax in the knowledge that the tall black wizard would be there to protect him on his journey. He looked out of the window at the two men who had come to see him off. There was no point saying good bye, he doubted that either would wish him luck. 

Ten years in exile. All he had to do was survive them. And then what? Would Draco soften in ten years? He wondered if he could survive in the Muggle world alone. 

Draco appeared from the darkness of the castle walls. He looked at the carriage and caught his father’s eye. Dumbledore held up a hand and the carriage stopped. Draco hurried to the door and pulled it open.   

“Ten years,” Draco said breathlessly. 

Lucius forced a smile. 

“You have to get through them.” 

“I’ll be fine, Draco.” 

Draco climbed up into the carriage itself and threw his arms around his father’s neck. “You have to get through them,” he said again. 

“I will, Draco, I promise.” 

Draco sniffled into his father’s chest and Lucius held him tight. This was all Lucius wanted. He could go now. His son loved him and that was all that mattered. 

Kingsley put a firm but gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder. He was not a fan of the Malfoy family, but Draco was precious to Harry, and he did care a great deal about Harry. 

“Time to go,” Lucius said softly and smiled at his son. “Breakfast will start soon won’t it?” 

Draco sniffled and nodded. 

“Go and eat too much and I’ll see you in ten years.” It seemed a stupid thing for Lucius to say by way of goodbye, but it was too late now for conversation. He had to be jovial, he had to hide his fear and protect the only person he had left who he truly loved. 

Draco nodded again and backed away, climbing down from the carriage trying hard not to allow Lucius to see him cry any more than he had to. 

“I love you,” he said before Kingsley could pull the door shut. 

“I love you too, Draco. Go back inside sweetheart, it’s getting cold.” 

But Draco stayed and watched as the carriage pulled away, racing off down the road and then lifting into the darkening sky. He stood there for a long time, staring at the spot in the sky where the carriage with his father had disappeared and wondering if the empty feeling in his stomach would ever feel full again. 

******   

Harry closed his trunk with a strange feeling of regret and then stared around the room he had inhabited for much of the year. It was more than just a room now. This room represented Hogwarts and the last eight years of his life. Eight years that had taken him from a mistreated child to the man he now was. Now it was time to leave. He would not be returning to Privet Drive. While his summer spent at Grimmauld Place last year had felt very much like a holiday he would now be going to Wilshire to the place he would live out his life. Hogwarts was finally finished for Harry Potter.

  He looked at the stone walls and wondered how many lives they had seen pass through them. He was just one more wizard who had grown strong here.

  Draco tapped gently on the door frame. “Ready to go?” 

Harry turned and looked at his lover. And Draco was his lover once again. They had slept curled around each other since the night Draco had arrived at his door, and then last night they had made love. Harry was still feeling a little high from the experience. 

“You didn’t come to breakfast,” Harry said, “did you see your father?” 

“Yeah. They took him early. I just couldn’t eat after that.” 

“He’ll be alright. Mr Weasley will make sure that he’s safe.” 

Draco smiled ruefully. “Yeah, but Weasley doesn’t become Minister until the first. So dad has to survive until Thursday at least.” 

“Your dad is pretty strong. I mean, when I brought him back from the Museum we all thought he was going to die. He was just skin and bones and he was all torn up, but he got through it…and he’ll get through this.” Harry wasn’t entirely sure if his words of comfort were particularly good, but Draco kissed him gently and he didn’t worry that he’s said anything wrong. 

“Hermione is waiting at the door with her trunk.” 

Harry laughed. “She thinks that if we get to the train early it will leave early and we will get to London early, and for some reason she misses that old buzzard.” 

“Yeah, well, the old buzzard is going to meet us at the station and take us home.”

  ”Well, actually,” Harry faltered, “actually, Ron and Pansy are going to be there too and I thought we might all go to Grimmauld Place before heading out to Wilshire.” 

“To Grimmauld Place?” Draco looked a little panicked, “For how long?” 

“Only for the night. Mrs. Weasley is going to make dinner and we can go in the morning…we could catch the Knight Bus.” 

“So Hermione isn’t invited?” 

“Well yes she is, but I can’t see Snape accepting that invitation, can you?” Harry looked around the room, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “I know you don’t want to go to London let alone stay there overnight, but I will make sure you can’t hear the traffic or the sirens and I’ll make sure that the room is really dark. You’ll be able to sleep, I promise.” 

“Do I have much of a choice?” 

“Of course you do. If you don’t want to stay then we will go straight home.”

  Which of course meant that he had to stay the night in London. Draco sighed and agreed to stay at Grimmauld Place for one night. 

Harry picked up his broom and held it out to Draco; “Can you carry this downstairs for me.” 

Draco looked at the broom as though Harry had lost his mind. “Carry your broom? Who do you think I am, your House Elf?” 

Harry rolled his eyes and tucked the broom under his arm before lifting the end of his trunk. “I assume all of your things are downstairs already?” 

“Yep.”

  ”And where’s your cat?” 

“In her basket, also downstairs.” 

Harry started dragging his trunk towards the door and Draco picked up the other end of it. Harry didn’t quite understand why he wouldn’t carry the broom yet he’d grab the end of a trunk, but he wasn’t going to complain. “How was your dad when you saw him?” he asked. 

“Weird, he was acting very peculiar. He told me to go and eat breakfast and he’d see me in ten years.” 

“He was probably putting on a brave face,” Harry panted. Had the trunk always been this heavy? 

“Probably. And in ten years he’ll be coming home to the manor. How will you cope with that?” 

In all honesty Harry didn’t know, but he figured that he had ten years to get used to the idea, and at that moment ten years seemed a life time away. He was also rather pleased that Draco was fully expecting them to be together in ten years time. It gave him an optimism that he’d never really had before.

  Draco stopped in his tracks, refusing to move forward until Harry gave him some kind of answer. 

“In ten years, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine with it.” 

“In ten years eh?” Draco grinned. 

“In ten years,” Harry agreed, “I figure we’ll be wise old men by then.” 

“Ten years? Oh yes, wise old men of 29. Crotchety old things with walking frames and everything.” 

They continued down the stairs to where all of the trunks had been stacked, waiting to be taken to the station. Hermione was, as Draco had warned, waiting at the door with Crookshanks. Miss Kitty was in her basket hissing at the giant ginger cat. 

“Oh Draco, I am so sorry!” Hermione looked thoroughly distressed. 

“What? What happened?” Draco looked around, everything seemed normal. 

“I let Miss Kitty out, she wasn’t happy in her basket…and she…well I didn’t know that she was in heat…” 

Draco’s eyes widened.

  ”And Crookshanks…well…I mean, he was only following his instincts…” 

“You mean he…?” 

“I’m so sorry!” 

Draco lifted Miss Kitty’s basket and looked in at his very upset girl. “Oh baby, did that big mean…thing…hurt you?” He looked at Hermione, “You should get that thing desexed!”   

“It’s not Crookshanks fault! You should have known she was in heat!” 

“Well it’s not as though I’m an expert in cats, and she wasn’t bleeding or making that weird noise that cats make when they want some…and you let her out of her basket!” 

“So what happened?” Harry asked stupidly. 

“That big ginger thing raped my cat!” 

“Well I would hardly call it rape.” Hermione patted Crookshanks soothingly.

  Draco clutched Miss Kitty’s basket tightly and scowled at Crookshanks as though he was the devil. He kept the scowl in place until long after they were on the train and moving in the direction of home. 

The train left Hogsmeade Station right on time and while Hermione and Harry felt a little strange that Ron was not with them, they could both look at the friends they were there with and be happy.

  Draco was staring out the window, watching the world rush past him and Harry wasn’t sure if he was thinking about his father or his cat. Watching him, Harry was acutely aware that he could well have lost him and that this ride back to London could have been very different. He could have been miserable but he was not, just as Hermione could have been miserable but she was not. Things had worked for them and Harry could scarce believe it.

  The thought that they were only eighteen and that they still had a lot of life left to screw up played in his head for a moment and he forced it down. They were happy now and he couldn’t let fear ruin that. They could be happy forever, they didn’t know. 

Lavender had papers strewn all over the seat beside her and was shaking her head in dismay. “I don’t get this,” she said irritably, “Goblins just write gobbledygook, it makes no sense at all!” 

Hermione looked at the papers, documents from Gringotts for her business loan. “It does make sense, Lav. There are a lot of clauses, that’s all. They are loaning five thousand galleons and they want to make sure you are going to pay them back.” 

“Oh I’m going to be paying them back,” Lavender said, “these documents have Severus Snape’s name on them, he’ll kill me if I fuck it up.” 

Severus Snape had woken on Friday morning to a nasty hangover and an owl from Arthur Weasley offering him the Curator ship of the Museum of Magical Arts and Antiquities. The very idea of it propelled Severus into action. He met with Milo Brown that very morning, viewed the shop, put together a business plan over a coffee at the Leaky Cauldron and was at Gringotts to apply for the loan that afternoon. The first thing Lavender had heard about it was when the loan documents arrived at Hogwarts by owl on Saturday morning for her to sign. She had been trying to decipher them for the last two days. 

Lavender finally gave in and decided to trust Snape’s instinct. She signed her name beside the red X’s he had placed on each page. “God I hope this works,” she murmured softly. 

“You said it was going to work,” Hermione said, “you said you were 110% sure this was going to work!” 

“It is going to work,” Lavender protested, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to have a moment of doubt in front of you.” 

“Good, now don’t do it again.” Hermione turned to look out the window, the seed of doubt planted. 

“People will pay for them,” Draco said, pulling his attention away from the landscape passing them by. “It’s a sound idea. He is really talented and you’ll make money from it. I don’t know why he wouldn’t accept my offer though. I wouldn’t charge interest and I’d give you longer to pay it back.” 

“He doesn’t think he should borrow money from friends,” Hermione said crisply. 

“I’m not a friend, I’m his God son.” 

“You are a friend and you’re my friend at the very least. Besides, Lavender says they’ll be able to pay the loan back quickly, so I’m not worried at all.” 

They all exchanged dubious glances and then looked at the floor.

  ******* 

It was getting late when the Hogwarts Express slowed into Kings Cross Station and Hermione was sleeping with her head against Harry’s shoulder. Draco had moved seats several times and was currently beside Lavender, dozing with his head against the window. Harry was finishing the last of the cauldron cakes and Lavender had just had the misfortune of getting a vomit flavoured Bertie Botts Bean and was gagging. There was no juice left and Harry was afraid that Lavender was going to throw up all over Draco’s lap. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a drink machine at the station,” Harry told her. 

“That’s just great,” Lavender dry wretched, “do you have any Muggle money?” 

“No, but a knut is about the same size as a Muggle pound coin and the machines accept them.” 

Lavender stared at him in amazement, momentarily forgetting that she had a foul taste in her mouth. “You’re a real little criminal, you know that?” 

“I’ve been told,” Harry grinned. 

The train was slowing, steam escaping across the platform and they chugged slowly past Ron who was looking his usual lanky self and Harry felt his grin widen. He almost laughed when he noticed that Pansy was opening a can of coke and offering a mouthful to Ron. He nudged Lavender and pointed at the drink in Pansy’s hand, and much to Harry’s horrified amusement Lavender, who had never said more than two words to Pansy Parkinson in her life, suddenly wrenched open the window, dislodging Draco entirely and crying out “Pansy, don’t drink all of that, I need some!” 

Pansy almost dropped the can in surprise and Hermione woke with a start. 

Lavender scooped up her rolls of parchment and ran out the door and down the corridor, determined to be the first person off the train when it finally came to a stop. 

Harry craned his neck as the train passed Ron and noticed Snape hovering close by trying to make himself invisible to the curious adults gathering to collect their children. Ron made the first move and Harry watched as the tall redhead slouched over to his former Potions Master to say something. 

Then the train stopped and by the time Harry, Hermione and Draco had reached them, Lavender had already guzzled most of Pansy’s drink. Pansy was standing back looking a little frightened. 

“Are you quite finished?” Ron asked incredulously. 

“I’m sorry,” Lavender explained, “I just ate the worst Bertie Botts bean. It was vomit flavoured and I ate it!” 

“I have no idea why young people insist on eating those things,” Severus said silkily, venturing closer to the little group. 

Lavender looked her new business partner up and down and decided that he was no where near as intimidating as he used to be. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t wearing his black robes, or perhaps it was that dreadful Muggle jumper. “I think Hermione has a pocket full of Fizzing Whizzbees for you, Severus. ”

  If she was hoping for him to be gruff she was to be sorely disappointed. Severus was on his best behaviour. He had promised Hermione that he would make an effort with her friends and he planned to at least try. Lavender Brown was also about to become his business partner, it would be foolish for them to not speak at all. “Did you sign those documents?” He asked. 

“Yep. Here you go.” She handed him the various scrunched scrolls and he resisted the urge to say something about the state of them. 

Hermione edged past Lavender and wrapped her arms around his waist with a yawn.   

“Did you get some sleep on the train?” he asked, hugging her back and pressing a kiss into her soft hair. 

“A little bit. How long is it going to take to get home? I’ll get some more sleep in the car.”

  Ron was staring and shaking his head. He looked over at Harry and longed to say something about the sight of seeing Hermione hugging Snape being a little sick, but he didn’t need to. Harry mouthed “I know” to him and rolled his eyes. They would just have to get used to the idea that Snape could be civil when he tried and the fact that their very good friend was going to be with him for a very long time. 

“Actually, Mr Weasley has invited us to Grimmauld Place for dinner. Apparently his mother has made a great deal of food.” He looked past Hermione’s bushy curls to where Draco was rubbing his eyes. “And if I know Draco well enough, I would say he ate nothing on the train and I have no intention of getting half way home only to have him go into a fit on the back seat.” 

Draco scowled but had to concede the point. 

“Mums expecting all of us,” Ron explained, “and Pansy helped.” 

They were all fortunate enough not to know what that meant and they were all hungry for some proper food. 

“How are we getting there?” Pansy asked shyly. “Ron and I Apparated, but Hermione can’t…can she?” 

“I have a car,” Severus said, “I will bring Hermione and Draco if you all want to go on ahead.” 

“You can come too, Lav, if you like.” Ron extended the invitation that was so obviously expected of him. He had no idea that Harry and Hermione had become so close to her, but then, it had been a pretty big year. 

“I can’t, sorry,” Lavender offered up a big smile, “my mum and dad are waiting for me…but we should catch up. I’m moving to London soon, I’ll be just up from your brothers.” 

“Oh cool, another time then?” 

“There’ll be plenty of us anyway,” Harry ventured, “I mean, Ginny will be there, and I’d say your mum invited…George…”

  Ron and Pansy exchanged looks. 

“Well, yes, George is coming…but Ginny…Ginny has gotten herself a job…and mum and dad are not happy about it…so she hasn’t been invited.” 

“The way Molly and Arthur freaked out, I don’t know if she would come even if she had been invited,” Pansy said. “It was really scary.”

  Ron flushed a little. 

“Why?” Hermione asked and fearing the worst, “What is she doing?” 

“She’s not at Madam Maison’s is she?” Lavender asked, referring to the brothel in Hogsmeade and then flushing at the horrified looks from her friends. 

“Err…no…” Ron was looking as though Madam Maison’s would have been a blessing. 

“What’s she doing?” Harry asked, deciding it had to be something pretty bad. 

“Let’s go home,” Ron said in a strangled voice, “I have no doubt my mum will tell you over dinner.” And then he smiled, because he suddenly realised that despite his sisters’ wayward life, they had come through it all. “Let’s go home,” Ron said again, “Let’s get some champagne and celebrate.” 

Harry grinned and grabbed Draco’s hand as they started off towards the gateway back to the Muggle world. “Yeah, let’s have a fucking party!” 

*******     

Lucius Malfoy was cold. Too cold. He was well aware that a warming charm had been placed over the carriage, but he did not feel it. He had wondered briefly if it was fear that was chilling him, but he’d dismissed it quickly when he glimpsed the first traces of snow. 

They had been travelling for hours, the carriage sluicing unnoticed through the sky as it spirited him away to wherever in the world he was going. He could not tell what direction they had taken but now thought that they must have been going north. Or south. There was ice south wasn’t there? But not like this. There was no colour outside now. There was no richness of earth and trees, nothing green or brown or blue. There was only white outside. The world here was covered in a thick blanket of snow and ice. 

Where were they taking him? 

Far off in the distance he could see a storm, a blizzard perhaps, and they were heading towards it. They were sending him somewhere that had blizzards. Would the accommodation be suitable? Was he to live in something akin to an igloo? 

He needed one of those big coats made of animal skin like the Eskimos wore. He needed something if he wasn’t going to freeze to death. He had never considered that his magic had been responsible for keeping him warm or cool. It was as though the loss of it had removed an intrinsic part of himself. The part that kept him warm, or told him what direction he was facing. He had lost his powers to be sure, but somehow he had lost more than that. He wondered if he would ever get it back again. 

They must be going north. He had visited Iceland as a child and he was certain that this place looked similar, but they were certainly not heading towards any civilised area that he could see. Looking down at the ground he found that he could see little at all. They were sending him to some remote place. Somewhere that no one could find him.

  Somewhere that had blizzards. 

A shift in the carriage told him that they were heading now towards the ground. Somewhere down in all that white was the place he was going to live. 

But there was nothing down there. What could possibly down there? A cave? An Ice cavern? Were such places habitable in this kind of cold? 

There would be someone else there too. An Auror or someone else of their ilk. So there had to be something habitable down there. 

The Aurors had not said a word to him, although he could sense that the black one was more receptive to conversation than the white one. The white one looked a little mean and he would not be surprised to know that he had once spat on Draco at a party. 

Lucius looked out the window again and realised that they were getting closer to the ground. The carriage was being buffeted by winds and he felt sick suddenly. His stomach rolled at the prospect of getting out of the carriage and heading into Merlin only knew what. He took a deep breath, inhaling sharply through his nose and feeling his nostrils flare. He began to fidget, as he always did when he was nervous. He straightened his robes, flattened his hair and looked out the window. 

What if they hurt him? Could he stand it? He would have to. He had to last. He had promised Draco that he would come back and he had always made a habit of keeping the promises he made his son.

  But he’d had enough pain to last a thousand life times. 

They hit the ground hard and the carriage slowed quickly, grinding to a halt in the snow. Lucius looked again out the window and saw nothing. He quickly swivelled around to see out the other side of the carriage and found nothing there either. 

Kingsley swung the door open and climbed out. “This is it, Lucius,” he said. 

Lucius wanted to say that there was nothing there, that they must have made a mistake, but the mean looking wizard still in the carriage looked as though he would love an excuse to slap him, so he climbed out into the icy wind. 

He instantly began to shake. It was colder than he could ever have imagined and the wind that whipped around him felt as though it would cut through him as easily as a blade. The skin on his face and hands reddened and began to sting within seconds, and his feet, sinking slowly into the snow, began to freeze. 

Kingsley got back into the carriage and Lucius began to panic. “There’s nothing here!” he shouted over the wind and Kingsley gave him a regretful look before the carriage pulled away. Lucius looked around him, terror creeping over his body. They were just leaving him there! How long did it take to freeze to death? It couldn’t take long, especially since he was wearing summer weight robes. A matter of minutes perhaps. He hoped it would be that quick. He didn’t want it to be long and drawn out. 

The storm he had noticed earlier was moving closer, so he reasoned that if the cold didn’t kill him then the storm would. 

He turned in a circle on the spot and when he finished, filled with despair, a tiny wooden cottage appeared from out of the sea of white. He swallowed hard. 

A door opened and a figure, hooded and cloaked, appeared in the frame. He hesitated, wondering if it would be better to stay out in the snow and freeze. But his body wouldn’t allow it. He instinctively made for the warmth that must be in the cottage, his frozen feet stumbling every few steps, and when he reached the door the figure stepped aside to let him in. 

It was warm. Wonderfully warm. A fire was blazing in the stone hearth. Something was cooking, something that smelled like soup or stew or something that would be wonderfully nourishing in the face of the cold. He didn’t know if was allowed any of it, but he decided that he was willing to beg. 

“I wasn’t allowed to help you inside,” his companion said, “but I knew you’d make it.” 

He was still shivering in his damp robes, but he spun very fast at the sound of the voice. He frowned, and then she pushed the hood away from her face. 

“Are you surprised?” She asked and when he mutely nodded she added; “I hope it is a pleasant one.”

  He couldn’t speak, but everything was falling into place. Arthur Weasley didn’t care about him, so why would Fudge have Lucius killed to get back at Weasley? Not when this was a thousand times more effective. 

“I can’t remember your name,” he said politely, deciding that it would serve him well to be nice to her. “I’m sorry.” 

“That’s alright, Lucius. My name is Ginny.” 

He stared at her in wonder. She was pretty, Autumnal, with russet red hair that went to her waist and a finely boned face. Why would she do this? Why would she do this to her family?

  He was hardly going to complain. 

“There is a change of clothes for you in the bed room, Lucius. Why don’t you go and get changed and I will get you something to eat. We need to sit down and get to know each other better. In fact I think we are going to get to know each other very well indeed.” 

*******   

THE END