Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

3rd July 1998

The kitchen at number 12, Grimmauld Place was still just as low, dark and narrow as it had always been, and Hermione had been occupying it herself for the last three days while Harry and Ron had departed for three months of intensive auror training. Tonight, however, she was expecting guests.

Hermione glanced at her watch, adjusted the positioning of a lamp, glanced at her watch again, cast an anxious eye over the table as a whole, and was interrupted from consulting her watch for the third time in 30 seconds when the Floo in the other room roared into life and a voice called,

“Hermione?”

“Kitchen!” she called back.

Ginny bounced in cheerfully. “Lonely without the boys, were you? They’ve only been gone a few days. Do you want me just to move in for the time they’re away… what’s happened?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Hermione said grimly. “We’re waiting on someone.”

“Luna? I was with her earlier, she didn’t say.”

“No, not Luna,” the Floo roared again. “There she is.” She raised her voice. “Turn left and we’re at the end of the corridor!” There was a tap of high heels, and after a moment a blond head appeared around the door.

“Hello,” the newcomer said nervously.

Hermione forced herself to smile.  “Hi Daphne. Gin, this is Daphne Greengrass. Daphne, this is Ginny Weasley. Come in and have a seat. Apologies for bringing you both here, but I got a letter that concerns all of us and this seemed the easiest way.” The other girls looked politely confused, but took seats at the kitchen table and waited as Hermione picked up a sheet of parchment. “I’ll read it out, and then we can discuss, OK?”

My Dear Hermione,

I write in haste, following a meeting today with Minister Shacklebolt. He has just informed me that the previously discussed plan to return those young men unfortunate enough to be marked by the former Tom Riddle to Hogwarts to serve out a probationary year and complete their education has been abandoned.

Instead, the young gentlemen in question, including Misters Malfoy, Nott and Zabini have been relocated to places unknown within the muggle world and have had their memories wiped. 

As you are aware, the faster a memory charm reversal is carried out, the less chance there is of long-term damage. I know that you are without Misters Potter and Weasley - indeed, Minister Shacklebolt alluded to their absence at auror training as a good thing, suggesting that he knows exactly how wrong this plan of action is - however I suggest you contact Miss Weasley and the elder Miss Greengrass to help you in your quest. If my understanding of our student body is correct, they will both have a vested interest in this investigation.

Minister Shacklebolt has an extensive file on this project in his office. It would be the greatest of help to you if you could secure a copy of this file, as I believe it includes the locations of all of the subjects in the trial as well as assorted other relevant details.

I look forward to seeing you at the Minister’s Inaugural Gala tomorrow night. It is a shame that Miss Weasley will be so unfortunately late in her attendance.

I remain your friend,

Minerva McGonagall

P.S. The password to the Ministers office is "Godric's Sword". My best wishes to Ginevra.”

The three girls all stared at the letter.

“Memories wiped?” Ginny asked first. She had her hand over her mouth and looked like she wasn’t sure whether to cry or be sick.

“Blaise isn’t even marked!” Daphne said desperately. “They can’t have included him, there’s no reason - it’s not illegal to be friends with people!” She did have tears running down her cheeks. Hermione said nothing. She was gripping the letter so tightly that the parchment was tearing under her fingers.

“So, you’re with Zabini - I mean, with Blaise?” Ginny asked Daphne, in what seemed to be a desperate grasp at normality. She nodded, still crying. Ginny reached out and smacked Hermione’s arm. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were dating Malfoy? That would have made my life so much easier!”

“I’m not dating Malfoy!” Hermione protested.

“Well you’re not having Theo, he’s mine!” Ginny retorted.

Hermione stared at her in confusion.  “Theo Nott? Since when were you with him? What about Harry?”

“You mean the man who dumped me and abandoned me at Hogwarts on my own? That Harry?” Ginny scoffed. “Things did actually happen last year for those of us who weren’t hiding out in a tent. Some of us fought a war. Some of us fell in love.” She sounded defensive, and Daphne wiped her face and stretched out her hand across the table.

“Wait,” she said quietly. “Maybe this is not the time? I’m sure you can both tell the stories of your relationships - or friendships, Hermione, if you prefer - but if I understood McGonagall properly, the plan to correct this disaster needs to start at the Inaugural Gala tomorrow night. That means we have a lot to do, and it’s already after nine. We’ve got about 21 hours. We really don’t have time for you two to fight.”

“She’s right,” Ginny said, the defensive tone vanishing as quickly as it arrived. “McGonagall expects me to break into the Minister of Magic’s office tomorrow night. That’s not going to be easy, despite the fact that’s she’s provided us with his highly suspicious password. I mean, honestly, do men just never grow out of being obsessed with their bits? Hermione, you need to be researching memory removal and restoration - that’s your job tomorrow. Anything you can find. If you want to fight about my relationship with Harry, or Theo, we’ll do it later.”

“And my job?” Daphne asked shyly. “I mean, I know we’re not friends but I want to help. Blaise is mine. I need him back.”

“Of course you’re helping!” Ginny exclaimed. “Malfoy and Zabini are Theo’s best friends, however much of a fucked up friendship it was for the last couple of years. We, ladies, need to form an alliance and we are also going to be best friends, because we’re not going to have any choice after we fix this mess. Daph - may I call you Daph? I respond to ‘Gin’ all the time.”

“Pansy and the boys call me Daph,” the blonde girl agreed. “And I’d like to be friends. We’ve all lost a lot over the last couple of years and I could do with some new ones.” She smiled mischievously and Ginny grinned back.

“So, Daph, your task tomorrow is to source dress robes for you and Hermione. You’re going to have to go to the ball with her, because we need to keep this quiet. If she goes alone she’ll end up cornering and probably hexing Kingsley, and that’s not going to help anything.” She waved a hand in the air, mimicking a newspaper headline, as she went on “Golden Girl Murders Minister in Death Eater Defence.”

“I won’t!” Hermione protested.

“You say that, but you absolutely will,” Ginny contradicted. “While you’re busy flashing all your Golden Girl-ness - ooh, that’s an idea, Daph, can we put her in gold? - and keeping everyone’s attention on you, me and my associate are going to be six floors above you, breaking into the Minister’s office to find anything we can on this memory wiping fiasco. Is that the idea?” Hermione nodded.

“Yes - except to the gold. Who is your associate?” Ginny grinned wickedly.

“Do you really have to ask? On which note, I’m off to recruit him now. Shall we meet back here after the Ball tomorrow night to see what we have? Probably best if we’re not seen together too much before then, in case Kingsley gets suspicious.”

“I’ll be in the ministry archives tomorrow, looking for information,” Hermione agreed. “I’m often there so it shouldn’t raise any suspicions.“

Daphne grinned. “I’ll be sourcing golden dress robes,” she said innocently. Hermione glared. Ginny giggled, almost hysterically.

“We’ll fix this,” she said firmly. She threw one arm around Daphne’s shoulders and beckoned Hermione with the other one. “We don’t have any choice. I refuse to accept a world where we fought, where my brother died, where, as Daphne said, we lost so much - and where we can now lose more because the Ministry cannot stop being bloody insane. Anyway - my man made me a promise that he hasn’t yet fulfilled. I fully intend to collect.”

“What promise?” Hermione asked, realising immediately this was somewhat unwise. Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively as she dropped her arms from their shoulders and moved towards the door. “No, on second thoughts. don’t tell me!” Hermione called after her. The sound of Ginny's laughter echoed into the Floo.

“I’ll go as well,” Daphne said. “We’ll meet back here at 3 tomorrow afternoon to get ready, OK? I’ve got robes to order in the morning and then,” she surveyed Hermione’s hair, “I need to brush up on curly hair charms.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“It’s charm resistant, so good luck!”

Daphne gave her another wicked grin. “Nothing is resistant to my charms. You wait.”

4th July, 1998

On the night where Ginny was required to sneak round The Burrow quietly, it was disturbingly busy. When she arrived home, it was to Bill and Fleur in the living room with her parents, and Percy wandering around humming. Much to her annoyance, this state of affairs continued until late, and even after her brother and sister-in-law had departed through the Floo, she had to wait with barely concealed patience until her parents had gone to bed, Percy had stopped wandering, and all was quiet. It was therefore shortly after midnight when Ginny tiptoed up the stairs to the floor above her own and tapped quietly on a door.

“Are you naked? I’m coming in,” she hissed, pushing it open. George gave her an irritated look.

“Just as well I wasn’t,” he retorted. “Shut the door and silence the room before Mum wakes up.”

“Wouldn’t be anything I haven’t seen before,” Ginny said vaguely, waving her wand over the door. “Shift up, it’s cold.” He sighed and moved over in the bed, allowing her to scramble in beside him.

“Lovely though this is, sis, why are you here?”

“I need to do illegal things tomorrow and I need you to help me.”

George rubbed his forehead. “Define ‘illegal’ please.”

“Breaking and entering. Bit of trespass. Some light thievery. Nothing Azkaban-worthy.”

“Can we go back to the start of this story and try again?” Ginny sighed.

“Fine. But you’re not allowed to be angry.” She waited until he nodded his agreement and then said, in the manner of one ripping off a plaster, “I am - was - am dating Theodore Nott.” Then she watched his face anxiously.

“I know,” George replied calmly. “Fred told me. Why the confused tense?”

“That bastard! He swore he wouldn’t tell anyone!”

George shrugged. “I’m not anyone. I’m me. I mean, I can tell you I’m seeing Pansy Parkinson if it makes you feel better.”

“Oh, fuck off George,” Ginny muttered. He shrugged.

“Please yourself. Back to your confused tenses.”

“The Ministry have wiped his memory and placed him in the muggle world, in lieu of a trial.”

“I thought Fred said he was spying for you guys at Hogwarts! Isn’t he practically DA at this point?”

“Should be. He was supposed to go into hiding with Nev and Seamus at Easter, but either they got wind of that or they just didn't trust him as much as he thought they did, because Crabbe and Goyle took his wand and escorted him onto the train. He got taken to Malfoy Manor and marked.”

“Shit,” George said. “That’s when you spoke to Fred?”

Ginny nodded. “He found me stressing over it. And now for whatever reason - maybe some prickings of conscious mean even Kingsley can’t put recognised spies with multiple people to vouch for them into Azkaban - they’ve just exiled him entirely.”

“And how does this relate to our illegal activities tomorrow night?”

“Well, according to McGonagall, all the notes about the memory wipe project are in Kingsley’s office. She’s suggested that I call off sick to the Gala tomorrow night - Hermione is going to draw attention away from me not being there - and go and retrieve them.”

“How’s Hermione involved in this? Come to that, how is McGonagall involved?”

“Malfoy is on the list as well. I’m not sure how Hermione is involved with him -she doesn’t seem sure herself - but I’ll figure that out later. McGonagall found out about the whole thing and delegated Hermione to fix it, with me and Daphne Greengrass , her boyfriend - you remember Blaise Zabini? - is also involved.”

“Slytherin Beater - hits like a raging hippogryff? Yeah, I remember Zabini. Bastard dislocated my shoulder once.”

“So you will help me, won’t you?”

“I don’t really have any choice, do I? Fred will haunt me to the end of time if I let you go breaking laws on your own. I’ll make my excuses for the Gala and meet you there - but you’ll owe me. My date will be furious.” Ginny snorted.

“Like you had a real date. Who were you going with, Katie?”

“As I said, please yourself. Now get out my bed please.” Ginny hugged him and scrambled out.

“I knew there was a reason you were my favourite brother.”

“Some favourite! At some point I still want to know why you trusted Fred with your secret boyfriend and not me!”

“See you in the morning!”

Chapter Text

4th July 1998

If someone was to listen hard enough, the faint sounds of laughter, music, and the clink of many glasses could be heard from the sixth floor of the ministry, drifting up from the ballroom downstairs where the Gala was in full swing.  The shimmering patch of air that was Ginny was creeping along the corridor outside the minister’s office.  Opposite her, the shimmering patch of air that was George held up a hand, and she stopped.  George could see round the corner.  A moment later, she felt a gentle pressure on her wrist and he pulled her back around two corners and into a stationary cupboard.

“What?” she hissed, canceling her disillusion hastily so that he didn’t stand on her.  George did the same.  His eyes were sparkling in a way Ginny hadn’t seen since the Battle at Hogwarts.  “I’d like to get this done some time tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“You’d like it done?  I’ve got a date waiting downstairs!” her brother retorted.

Ginny rolled her eyes.  “George.  Why are we in the cupboard?”

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” he declared in a low voice.  

Ginny stared at him impatiently.  “Well?”

“The bad news is that there’s a guard on Kingsley’s office,”  he continued.  Ginny swore, but George was still grinning.  “The good news is that it’s Ronniekins.”

“Ron?” Ginny gasped, remembering just in time to lower her voice.  “He’s been a  trainee for three bloody days, what’s he doing on guard duty?”  George shrugged.

“I guess they’re short-handed, and lets face it, it’s hardly a high risk assignment, is it?  I mean, what are they expecting, someone to break into the ministers office mid-gala?  Who would even consider that sort of plan?”

“I don’t really want to stun him,” Ginny said thoughtfully, ignoring him.  “And even in Ron, they’ll spot a confundus easily.  They are Aurors, after all.” George frowned.

“What about spiders?” he asked suddenly.  “Fred was working on a spell, a while back… purely to wind up Ron, you understand.”  Ginny nodded in agreement.  This seemed perfectly natural.  “I think I can remember it.  Come on - lets do this.”

They crept back along the corridor until they were again only one corner away from the minister’s office, and then George stopped and crouched down.  Ginny knelt behind him, where she could see Ron lounging against the wall outside the door.  George murmured something, and a small spider dropped from the end of his wand and scuttled up the corridor towards their unsuspecting brother.

It took five spiders in total before Ron noticed them.  They knew as soon as he did, because he straightened up and stared warily at the floor.  George summoned another five, one after another.  Ron was now looking distinctly uneasy.

“Cheers, Freddie,” George muttered under his breath.  

Ginny squeezed his shoulder.  “He’d have loved this,” she murmured back.  George nodded his head, still conjuring spiders.

“Harry?” Ron called now, sounding nervous.  Ginny stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle her giggles at the look of panic on his face.  George conjured more spiders.  They were now on every surface in the corridor.  “Harry!” Ron called again.  He gave a glance around, and looked at the door of the office.  Gradually, he began to inch the other way along the corridor.  “Harry?”  A distant shout answered him and he moved faster towards the far end.  As soon as he turned his back on the door, his siblings were on their feet and moving swiftly and silently along the corridor.  Ron rounded the corner, presumably to tell Harry about the plague of spiders, and Ginny pointed her wand at the door and uttered the password while George, with a wicked grin, vanished all the spiders.  

“Just to mess with his head,” he muttered.  Ginny nodded her agreement. The door opened silently, and they both slipped through and closed it again before Ron looked back.

Ginny bounced delightedly on the balls of her feet at their success, and turned her attention immediately to Kingsley’s desk while George rifled quickly through the bookcase.  It took them less than three minutes to find the file on the memory removals, and she rapidly duplicated it before her attention was caught by louder voices outside the door and both she and George dropped to the floor behind the desk.  The door swung open, and Harry’s voice floated in.

“I don’t see any spiders.  Are you sure you saw them?  It’s been a really long week.  Maybe you dosed off for a few seconds?”

“Harry, they were everywhere!” Ron sounded righteously annoyed.  “And I wouldn’t dream about loads of tiny spiders, I’d dream about great fucking giant ones like Aragog!”

“Look, go and have a cup of tea and wake yourself up a bit.  I’ll check Kingsley’s office and then go back to my own job before anyone finds either of us in the wrong place.  Robards will have our heads for this, you know that!”  Footsteps came into the room, and Harry’s voice got louder, as he was presumably calling out to Ron.  “Looks fine in here, anyway.  Have your break and give me a shout when you get back, ok?”  They heard Ron leaving, still muttering angrily under his breath, and then Harry spoke again, quietly this time.

“I know you’re here, Gin, I can smell your shampoo and your perfume.  And no one but a Weasley would have conjured spiders to get rid of Ron.  I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t want to know either - You have five minutes to get out of here, and then I’m going to start arresting people and damn the publicity.  I don’t for a second imagine that you’re on your own.  Is that clear?”  Ginny stayed silent, hoping for plausible deniability, and after a few seconds Harry departed, conspicuously leaving the door open.  Ginny and George abandoned stealth, gathered up the duplicated papers and, as soon as he was a decent distance away, ran.

~

Meanwhile, in the centre of the ballroom downstairs, Hermione glittered in set of shining gold dress robes which were attracting admiration from all quarters.  Daphne, in a discrete pale blue, hovered by her side, smiling and making polite conversation.  Much to Hermione’s surprise, she was flanked on her other side by Pansy Parkinson in, of all colours, vivid scarlet.

“Don’t look at me like that, Granger, my date bailed on me and Daphne brought me along to help out,” she had announced on arriving at Grimmauld Place that afternoon, laden with packages.  “I’m better with hair charms than she is, and if we want to distract from the fact that girl-Weasley isn’t there, you’re going to have to knock them dead.  This gold is going to look fucking fabulous with your skin, by the way. Sit down and let me get started.”  Blindsided by both a friendly greeting and a compliment from Pansy Parkinson, Hermione could do little but gape at her as Pansy cast a series of charms over her head, causing the other girl to roll her eyes.  “Honestly, close your mouth, Granger.  Daph told me what happened - by which I mean I frankly bullied it out of her -”

“Sorry,” Daphne muttered.  Hermione waved a placating hand, intending to convey that she could see quite easily that there would be no object immovable enough to withstand the irresistible force that was Pansy Parkinson.

“- And they’re my boys like Potter and Weasley are yours, so I’m bloody well going to be involved.  Though are they my boys any more, I wonder?  Theo at least has spent the last year looking like he was trying to disappear, but I certainly didn’t suspect any amorous connection.  I mean, I’m fairly sure that on at least one occasion he Crucioed Ginny Weasley!  Honestly, I’m going to murder him for not keeping me up to date.”  

“He did,” Daphne confirmed, ignoring the threat.  “And sneaked out of the common room a few hours later, and was gone for half the night,” she added.  “I was there that night too.”  She shuddered at the memory, her breaths coming quicker as she stared at something they couldn’t see and, to Hermione’s surprise, Pansy abandoned her task to cross the room, put her arms around her friend, and give her a tight hug.

“It’s over,” she said softly.  “We got through it.  Now it’s just cleaning up, and who better than a witch to clean up after idiot men’s messes?”  Daphne nodded, her eyes clearing, and returned the hug.  Hermione felt rather out of place, and stood up.  Immediately Pansy swung round.  “Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.  “Now, to return to where we were - Daph, do you mean to tell me you knew Theo was sneaking about and you didn’t tell me?  That’s gossip worth having!”

“Theo was always sneaking about.  Half the time he was probably going for a smoke,” Daphne replied dismissively.  It was Pansy’s turn to stare, transfixed, into the middle distance.  Hermione looked at her in concern, and then turned to Daphne was sported an almost identical expression.

“That bastard stopped smoking!” she exploded.  “Dammit, Daph, how did we miss it?  Who the fuck stops their major form of stress relief in the middle of a war for no reason?”  Daphne was looking just as stunned.

“Maybe there was something else going on that was slightly more important than the self-destructive habits of your classmates?” Hermione suggested.    And what does it matter if he did?”  Daphne took pity on her.

“Theo smoked - endlessly - since we were in second year,” she explained.  “Every night, without fail, he’d leave the common room and go to wherever it was that he did it. We all knew, of course, though none of us knew where his secret spot was.”

“I even dated him once and didn’t know where it was,” Pansy sighed, her fingers and wand busy with Hermione’s hair again.  “The man is like a fucking Gringotts vault.”

“Basically,” Daphne continued, “Up until last year, nothing would have come between Theo and his cigarettes.  Then he stopped, pretty much overnight.  He was a miserable bastard about it for weeks, too.  It must have been love, Pans, there’s no other option.”

“I don’t think I can imagine Theo in love,” Pansy said thoughtfully.  “He’s just too… Theo.  Sex, yeah, absolutely.  But in love?”

“So, what difference would it have made if you’d known?” Hermione asked again.

“Well we don’t know now, do we?” Pansy sighed.  “I’m sure we could have used the information somehow.  Information, Granger - especially information that other people don’t know you’ve got, or don’t want you to have - is the lifeblood of a Slytherin senior.  And I was the best at knowing things.” she added, immodestly.  “I can’t believe I missed such an obvious sign.  And as for you, Granger, and Malfoy?  I mean, Malfoy of all people?  How the hell did you manage it?”

“Why shouldn’t I manage it?” Hermione asked, sharply.  “You did!  Am I not just as capable of catching Malfoy’s interest as you, Parkinson?  Anyway, as I told Daphne and Ginny last night, there is nothing at all between me and Draco Malfoy.  Nothing!”  Pansy looked at her closely, her eyes narrowing.

“But there was, wasn’t there,” she said slowly, and Hermione could see how Pansy had had so much information on her fellow Slytherins.  It felt like she was drawing the information directly out of Hermione's brain.  “Damn, it’s almost five.  We need to move.  We will return to this later!”  The next hour or so passed in a flurry of activity until the three girls travelled by Floo to the ministry, where they handed over their cloaks and Pansy cast a final, critical eye over them all in front of the mirror in the ladies dressing room.  “Now I believe, ladies, that our brief is to keep all eyes on the dance floor?  In which case - let’s give them a show.”

Indeed, the sight of Hermione Granger entering the Gala accompanied by Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass did exactly that.  Cameras flashed and jaws dropped as the three girls appeared together, posed for photos at the top of the stairs, and then descended to the floor.   Several members of the DA approached Hermione to dance, all of them taking the opportunity to check she was in her right mind and not suffering from any type of curse, unforgivable or otherwise.  Hermione saw them all off with polite smiles, having some difficulty in getting rid of both Neville and Seamus, who proceeded to gather in a corner and watch her anxiously for the rest of the evening, taking turns to shoot suspicious looks at Pansy, who blew them a kiss whenever she noticed.  The gala was well advanced before George and Ginny, both in black dress robes as befitted a house in mourning - or, people wishing not to be noticed committing petty crimes - appeared beside them.  Ginny gave them a discrete thumbs up, and then her mouth dropped open as George walked straight up to Pansy and kissed her.

“Wow, gorgeous.  Did you wear red just for me?” he asked, grinning.  Pansy smirked as another silence spread out from them, people all over the room turning to stare.

“I have silenced this room twice in one night.  I’m on a roll!  And do you think I’d be in this monstrosity for anyone else?” she asked, her voice low enough to keep the comment within their circle.  George gave a genuine laugh, and kissed her again.

“Hang on,” Ginny interrupted.  “When you told me last night that you were seeing Pansy Parkinson - that wasn’t a joke?  She was the date that you had to ditch?”  George was clearly loving the sensation they were causing and gave her a brilliant grin.

“Of course it wasn’t a joke,” he said innocently.  “What do you take me for, Gin?  Come on, Pans.  I want one dance with you in this amazing Gryffindor dress before we leave.”  He swept Pansy off, while Hermione  and Daphne helped his spluttering sister off the dance floor and, at Daphne’s practical suggestion, provided her with a firewhisky.

~

It was well after eleven before the group of five re-convened in George’s flat, having been re-routed there by Ginny.

“Harry and Ron were in the ministry,” she explained, pulling the bundle of papers out of Hermione’s beaded bag.  “It’s not a massive stretch for them to have got permission to spend the night at home, and frankly I can’t face Ron at this time of night.  Especially not with Pansy fucking Parkinson sitting on George’s knee.  I’m literally dating a Slytherin and I’m having trouble getting my head round that one, so Ron would probably spontaneously combust.”

“Oy!” George snapped.  “Watch your language.”

“Nah, she’s fine,” Pansy said calmly.  “I am Pansy fucking Parkinson, thank you very much.  I went to a ministry ball tonight in Gryffindor colours and snogged a war hero in public.  I fixed Hermione Granger’s hair in front of Rita Skeeter and congratulated the Minister on the strong line he’s taken towards putting our society back together while he tried to work out if I had his Golden Girl under the Imperious curse.  I am the front page of the damn Daily Prophet tomorrow, I’ll have you know, Mr Weasley.”

“Draco would have had a fit,” Daphne said sadly.  Pansy sighed, her bravado canceled by these six short words, but she rallied and patted Daphne’s hand reassuringly.

“Theo would have adored it.  The look on Finnegan’s face when you came back to us after you’d danced with him, Hermione!  I’ll need to remember to tell them both once we get them back.  Anyway, I bet we see Draco at a ball in Gryffindor colours himself before long.”  She shot a meaningful look at Hermione, who ignored it.

“So… you’re in this plan as well now?” Ginny asked.  Pansy shrugged.

“I told you.  They’re my boys.  I want them back as much as you do.  Also, you need George.  He comes with me now.”  George opened his month to make a lewd comment and she slapped him on the arm without looking.  “Not the time, Weasley!” He closed it again and Ginny giggled.  “We’re both in. Now, let’s stop talking about me and start telling us what happened in the Minister’s office.”

Ginny launched into the story as Hermione, accompanied by George, started flicking through the stolen file. She only stopped when Ginny got to the bit about Harry smelling her shampoo, and sighed.

“That boy is either going to be a fantastic auror, or a stalker.  I hope Nott’s not that creepy, Gin, or I’ll start thinking you’ve got a type.  And I think I’ve found something,”  she added, drowning out Daphne’s mutter of

“Oh, Theo absolutely is that creepy.”

“What?”  There was a scramble to get round the table.

“There’s a list here of initials and locations,” Hermione said.  “Can it really be this simple?  Are they really this arrogant?”

“Apparently so,” George muttered, reading over her shoulder.  “Nott’s in London, that’s easier than I expected.  They haven’t even bothered to move him abroad.  Malfoy’s in Paris.  Zabini’s in Rome.  The others… I presume we aren’t going after all of them?”

“Start with those three, and then we can take it to the Wizengamot,” Hermione said firmly.  “I’m not going trekking round the world to track down Higgs and Pucey and the rest.  We’ll leave them to the Ministry’s reversal squad.  Once we start to reverse this idiotic campaign, they’ll have no choice but to finish it, and reversals are possible for up to six months. We,” she indicated herself and Ginny, “need to be back to Hogwarts in September, so we only have two.  If we can’t manage it in that time, we need to take a different approach.”

“Us too,” Daphne said, Pansy nodding beside her.

“Theo’s in London because he doesn’t speak any other languages,” Pansy said vaguely, still reading over the list.  “I can’t believe it’s this simple.  But George,” she turned automatically to her boyfriend, Ginny noted, “More than half of these boys - men, I suppose - aren’t Death Eaters.  They’re not marked.”

“They’re all Slytherins,” Daphne said, reading over her shoulder.  “At least, all the unmarked ones are. You can’t wipe people’s memories based on the bloody Sorting Hat! How did they honestly expect to get away with this?”

“They never expected you to look,” George said suddenly, and all heads turned towards him.  He sounded unusually angry. “They’re Death Eaters, at least according to the Ministry.  They never for a second considered that anyone who wasn’t on their side would bother looking  for them, and as for the people who were on their side - well, most of them are dead or in Azkaban. Or…” he paused, his finger hovering on Blaise Zabini on the list, “… or, anyone who would have kicked up a fuss has had their memory wiped or were being fucking stoned in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago and would be expected to lay low until it was too late to do anything about it.” He indicated Pansy, and Daphne put her hand out to squeeze her friends.

“Pans,” she said softly.  Pansy shook her head dismissively.

“Not important right now.  And he exaggerates, it was only one stone.  And look what I got out of it.”  She wrapped her arms around George’s waist, and he dropped a kiss on her hair.

“But I told them!” Ginny said, sounding frustrated.  “I told them Theo was spying for us!  I showed them the journals!  He was on our side!”

“I spoke to them about Malfoy, too,” Hermione said.  “They even had the letter I’d written Tonks before the final battle to tell her who the spy was, just in case I couldn’t.  They absolutely knew about Malfoy as well.”

“Because the Wizengamot has a history of listening,” George said scathingly.  “I doubt they even realised what you were saying.  If you want my opinion, they saw their surnames and marks and got rid of them in the fastest way they could.  In Azkaban, they’d still have been a presence.  People would have remembered them.  You would have kept fighting for them.  Removed from our world entirely, they’re hoping that they’ll just fade out of people’s memories until it’s too late to restore theirs.  We didn’t fight - I didn’t fight, and Fred didn’t die -” he paused and swallowed hard.  Both Ginny and Pansy reached out towards him, but he ignored both hands, “- Fred didn’t die,” he repeated, his voice firmer, “so that we could just reverse the polarity!  We were supposed to build a society together.  Kingsley seems to have forgotten that, and I wish I could be a fly on the wall when he realises he’s gone up against Hermione Granger.”

“On which note,” Ginny said, changing the subject and giving George a chance to compose himself,  “Why are you involved, Hermione?  You said you’re not dating Malfoy?”

“No, I’m not!” Hermione protested.  Pansy sat forward, sensing more of the earlier gossip.

“Draco spent his seventeenth birthday on a private date with someone he wouldn’t name.  Was that you?”  Blushing, Hermione nodded.  “Then what happened?”

“You know what happened!” she protested.  “Three weeks later, he started a damn war!”  Pansy and Daphne exchanged glances.

“When we were in Seventh Year and he was Head Boy,” Daphne began slowly, “He refused every woman who came near him. Broke my sister’s heart when she reminded him that they were betrothed and, charming gentleman that he is, he told her that he wouldn’t marry her if she was the last woman on Earth.”

“Are they still betrothed?” Hermione asked.  She was studying the files again and attempted to sound disinterested, but the other girls exchanged grins.

“No, it was broken automatically when he went to Azkaban in May, after the last battle.  ‘Not being a war criminal’ was one of the conditions my father insisted on.  I asked Blaise about Draco after he turned down Astoria, anyway, and Blaise told me that Draco said he was ‘trying to earn back the trust of the only woman he wanted’.  So maybe you’re not dating him, Hermione, but I’m fairly sure that in his head you should be. At least, until they wiped his head.”

“We’ve been writing to each other for the last year,” Hermione admitted sadly.  “We had linked journals.  That’s how he got his information to us, you see.  But we’re not together.  Not like that.  We’re just… friends, I suppose.”

“Well, that explains that,” Pansy said with a sigh.  “I diagnose stupidity and stubbornness on both sides.  Your punishment, Granger, is to be the first one to tell us the full story of your relationship.  Yours must have been chronologically first.”

“A bedtime story!” Ginny giggled.  Hermione sighed, and nodded, then pointed at Ginny.

”Only if you’re next,” she said.  Ginny accepted this, and then turned to George and Pansy with a grin.

“And then you two,” she ordered.  “Because I am wildly curious about how this,” she waved an accusatory finger between her brother and Pansy “came about, and that will bring us all right up to date before we go out looking for Theo.”

Chapter Text

7th April, 1997

Being paired with Draco Malfoy for the biggest Arithmancy project  of the year was, in Hermione’s opinion, nothing short of disastrous.  She had been fully prepared to work with Padma Patil and, indeed, the two had been discussing their ideas in an undertone when they were interrupted by a scuffle and an argument at the next desk.  Within seconds, Padma was shrieking and sliding along the seat towards Hermione as Draco Malfoy tackled Theodore Nott to the floor of the classroom, attempting to either hex or punch his housemate.  Hermione couldn’t quite tell which.  Professor Vector, as was her way, did not suffer fools gladly.

“Mister Malfoy!  Mister Nott!  What is this nonsense in my classroom?  Wands drawn?  Muggle brawling?  No, no, I don’t think so,” she added in as aside as the two boys, still glaring at each other, re-took their seats.  “Mister Malfoy, please exchange seats with Miss Patil.  If you cannot be trusted to work decently with your own choice of partner, then you may work with Miss Granger.”  Hermione’s heart sank like a stone as Malfoy, pale, gaunt and looking like he hadn’t slept in a month, took Padma’s vacated seat and sat scowling at the tabletop while Professor Vector finished her lecture - far more annoyed now than she’d been at the start of it.  Padma slipped in beside Theo Nott who looked pale and grim, and was staring fixedly at a point at the front of the room.  Once the rest of the class were making arrangements to complete the work Hermione turned to Malfoy with an internally suppressed sigh.

“Does seven in the library work for you?  I think I can do that time all week, so that should give us plenty of time to complete the work.”  He merely shrugged in response, and, as the  bell rang at that point and he practically bolted for the door, Hermione had no choice but to take that as agreement.  Opposite her, Padma was tentatively saying something to Nott, who physically gave himself a shake and turned to face her, still unsmiling but at least listening.  They made their arrangements and he also swept out, leaving the two girls behind.

“So much for that,” Padma said gloomily. “Do you think Snape gives them lessons in sweeping round the place with their robes billowing?”

“Probably just a Slytherin thing,” Hermione mused.  “At least you got Nott.  He’s turned out quite good looking, after all, and you can’t deny that he’ll pull his weight.  Malfoy looks like a walking corpse and I can’t remember the last time I saw him do any work.”

“True,” Padma said, blushing slightly.  “Still.  You’ll whip him into shape, I’m sure.”

Hermione sighed.  “I suppose I’ll need to.”

She was in the library as arranged at seven that evening, but there was no sign of Malfoy.  She toyed with the idea of asking Harry where he was, but decided that asking Harry to use the map to spy on Malfoy (more than he already was) was merely adding fuel to the fire, so had changed her mind.  Instead, she wrote out the basis of the idea she had been about to suggest to Padma, and set to work.

By nine on the Thursday evening, Hermione was very impressed with herself.  She was fairly sure that the project would be finished, would be excellent, and she had completed it entirely by herself.  There was only one decision remaining now - on the front cover, under the title, were the words

By

Hermione J. Granger

She’d left a gap underneath.

As Madam Pince escorted her from the library, relaxing her frown slightly at the cheery goodnight Hermione gave her, she returned again to the consideration.  She was so deep in thought that it took her own name, drifting round the corner, to draw her attention.  She froze.

“…paired him with Hermione Granger.”  It was Professor Vector’s voice, and it was Professor McGonagall who answered her.

“Has it made any difference?”

“I won’t know until the reports are in on Monday, they’re working on them in their own time.  And I’m sorry, Minerva, but if he doesn’t turn something in this time then I’m going to have to remove him from the class.  This is a difficult N.E.W.T level course and he’s a highly talented wizard, but the boy has been next to useless this year.  I don’t care how much slack Albus asks us to give him, he’s causing nothing but problems and as things stand, hasn’t a hope of passing the exam next year anyway.”

“Who started the fight?”

“As far as I saw he did.  Though in the interests of fairness, I’ll admit that I don’t know what the Nott boy said to him before young Malfoy threw the first punch.”

“I understand,” Professor McGonagall sounded tired.  “To be honest, I’m close to removing him from the Transfiguration class as well.  And I know Filius threw him out of Charms last week, though as yet hasn’t removed him from the class list entirely.  I tried to talk to Horace, but his entire focus was on why no one had told him Harry Potter was a potions prodigy, which as far as I’m aware, he never has been before.  Honestly, Septima, the life of a Deputy Head is a varied one!  I’ll need to collect feedback from the rest of the professors over the next few days, before I go to Albus.  Let me know what happens with that report, won’t you?  However, it’s after curfew.  Let’s go and treat ourselves to a drink and leave Mister Malfoy and the rest of his ilk to be tomorrow’s problem.  I’ve a lovely muggle scotch I think you’ll appreciate.”

Hermione dwelt at length on this conversation during her classes the following day.  She tried, subtlety, to pay attention and noticed that Malfoy was indeed not in Charms.  As she glanced across at the empty chair between Nott and Zabini, Nott caught her eye.  He looked from the chair to her, and his brow furrowed.  Hermione, blushing furiously at having been caught staring, redirected her attention to her work.

In Transfiguration, she was almost positive Malfoy was asleep, leaning against the wall in the back corner with his eyes closed - and she was equally positive that Professor McGonagall both knew this, and knew that Hermione had noticed.  Their last class of the day was Double Potions, and while Potions was not a class that you could sleep in, she was surprised when there was a thump, and Theodore Nott sat down at the other end of the bench she normally had to herself.  He nodded to her briefly, and Hermione gave him a small smile in return.  Presumably the rift in Slytherin had not been mended.

Under cover of the usual bustle of a potions class, paired with Professor Slughorn’s raptures over Harry - Hermione had to struggle not to giggle when Nott caught her eye and rolled his dramatically - she found time to glance over at Theo’s normal seat.  Malfoy was working systematically, though, as Hermione watched him more, there was a tremor in his hands as he sliced ingredients, and she was almost sure at one point that he’d stumbled and almost knocked over the cauldron.  When she turned back round, Nott was looking at her again. This time, he smirked.

Her preoccupation with Malfoy meant that she hadn’t finished cleaning up when the bell rang, and so was last out of the lab, stuffing books into her bag as she went.  Not looking where she was going, she therefore walked into something solid, which grunted and caught her before she could fall.

“Nott,” she said, annoyed.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“You walked into me,” he pointed out mildly.  Hermione ignored this.

“Why are you standing around in the middle of the corridor?”  

Nott glanced around, and drew her into the shadow on the classroom door.  “I wanted to give you some advice,” he said quietly.  

Hermione pulled her arm away.  “I don’t take advice. Particularly from Slytherins.”

Nott seemed to ignore this.  “He’s not your problem,” he said, firmly.  “You can’t solve it, and you can’t help him.  Please, Granger, for your own peace of mind - just leave him alone.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Hermione lied.  “Please excuse me.  I need to get to the library.”

Nott’s words echoed in her head as she finished the conclusion of the report, double checked the calculations, and finally, turned back to the front cover.  She picked up her quill again.

By

Hermione J. Granger

and

Draco L. Malfoy

She stared at the letters, then took a deep breath, put the entire report together in her bag, and went to bed.

12th April 1997

On the Saturday morning, she had a stroke of luck.  Harry was dashing off to a Quidditch practice and tossed her the map, asking her to keep an eye on Malfoy.  Ron rolled his eyes at her from behind Harry’s head, but Hermione settled herself in a quiet corner of the common room and began to scan the castle for him.  She eventually found him in an empty classroom on the fifth floor, apparently alone, and, collecting her bag, she hurried off.

“Malfoy,” she began, as she walked in the door.  He was sitting at a dusty desk with a large book in front of him, making feverish notes.  He scowled when he saw her.

“Fuck off, Granger.”  Hermione forced herself to remain calm.

“I will, in just one moment.  I need you to sign this.”  She put the report on the desk, on top of his notes.  “You can trust me, and sign it now, or you can take it away and read it and sign it if you agree.  Either way, it needs to be signed before Arithmancy on Monday.  OK?”

He ran a finger over the neat cover, where both their names were inscribed.  He flicked over a few pages, one eyebrow raising slightly as he surveyed the neat lines of writing, interspersed with complex calculations and Hermione’s tidy diagrams.  “Why have you done this?” His voice croaked slightly, as if he hadn’t spoken much for some time.

“It was our assignment.  I’m not planning on failing an assignment just because you can’t be bothered showing up.”

“Of course not.  The number one swot must retain her crown.  But why does it have my name on it?  Forgive me for mentioning it, Granger, but you don’t exactly owe me any favours.”  Hermione hesitated.

“Because you looked like you needed a break,” she said eventually.  “Not everything has to be transactional, Malfoy.  Sometimes, people can do things just to be nice.  And I overheard Professors Vector and McGonagall discussing removing you from classes if you didn’t start passing.  I didn’t…”  She was cut off as he got to his feet angrily, training his wand on her.

“You had no fucking right…” he snarled.  Hermione held her ground, gazing directly into his eyes, her own wand in her hand.

“They had the conversation in the middle of the damn corridor.  I had no fucking choice!” she snapped back, startled into using language that she never normally would in imitation of him.

“And I suppose you ran off to gleefully repeat it to everyone you could find?”

“I haven’t told a soul until this moment.”  His wand lowered slightly, but he continued to glare.  She lowered hers the same amount.

“Why not? I mean, after the last five and a half years, why do me a favour - two favours -” he waved a dismissive hand at the Arithmancy project “and keep it quiet?”  Hermione returned his glare, refusing to be intimidated.

“Because you being a bully, a blood supremacist and an outright arsehole doesn’t mean I have to be those things.  I’m better than that, Malfoy.  I’m a better person than you are.  So I heard the conversation, then I went and I added your name to a fucking excellent report that you contributed nothing to because I felt bad for you, OK?”

“I don’t need your pity,” he snapped back.

“You may not need pity, but you do need help from someone and I don’t see a whole lot of volunteers lining up, Malfoy!  Or do you attack them all like you went for Nott this week?  Was that what he did wrong?  Offered to help you?”  He said nothing, but the sullen look on his face convinced her that she was right in her guess.  “He told me not to do this, you know.  Completely out of the blue, yesterday, after Potions.  Told me to leave you alone.”

Malfoy sat back down at the desk and used his long fingers to massage his forehead.  “Fucking bastard,” he muttered.  Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow.  “He’s clearly accepted that I’m not taking help from him, so instead he’s sent me you.  I’ll give him credit, you’re the absolute last person I expected him to go for.  Actually, scrap that.  The third-last person.  But even Theo isn’t thick enough to think that either Potter or Weasley would show up - or that I wouldn’t hex them into oblivion if they did.”

“Did you not hear me?  He specifically told me to leave you alone.”

“Yes.  And everyone at Hogwarts knows that the fastest way to get Hermione Granger to do something is to tell her she can’t,” Draco said, through gritted teeth.  “Theo, because he’s a smug little piece of shit, has combined that with the knowledge that I wouldn’t, as a general rule, attack a woman and decided he can make my life just that bit more difficult by involving you in it.  Why do you even want to help, Granger?  Just can’t understand how anyone can care so little about N.E.W.Ts, is that it?”

“As I’ve already told you,” Hermione said, coldly, “I’m just a better person than you.  You look like shit, like you’ve barely eaten or slept for weeks.  You’re even paler than normal, and in serious danger of being mistaken for a ghost.  And finally, given what I’ve seen of the dynamics in Slytherin this week,  by my estimation you have no one left to talk to except Crabbe and Goyle.  Both of whom can barely string a sentence together.”  His lips twitched at this, almost like he’d found it funny.  “So given that I’d done the damn report anyway, I figured I could help you out with one very minor problem out of your massive list by giving you half credit for it.  Sign it Malfoy, or don’t.  I really could not care less at this point.  I’ve got better things to do with my day than stand here and argue with you. Especially when it seems I’ve been tricked into doing it by Theodore fucking Nott.”  Malfoy stared at her for a long minute, and then flipped the cover open and signed the first page neatly, immediately beside Hermione’s own signature.  He dried the ink with his wand and handed it back to her.

“I don’t need to read it.  It’ll be Outstanding.”  Hermione nodded briefly, tucked the report back into her bag and turned to leave.  “Granger,” his voice was very quiet and she glanced back to make sure he actually had spoken.  He was tugging compulsively at the left cuff of his shirt, not looking at her.

“What?”

“Thank you,” he said awkwardly.  Hermione stared in shock for a moment before remembering herself and acknowledging this with a nod.

“It’s no problem,” she replied.  “I don’t like seeing people suffer.  Even you.  So if I can do anything to help someone who is, I will.  And an Arithmancy project isn’t such a big thing.” Malfoy swallowed and continued to play with his sleeve cuff.  “Was there something else?” she asked.  Malfoy muttered something under his breath and Hermione took a step forward.  “Pardon?”

“If I can’t cast a decent cleaning charm by Monday morning, Flitwick is throwing me out of his class permanently,” he said, slightly louder and slower.  “I will be killed when that news gets home.  And believe me, with the state of my life at the moment, that’s not even a fucking figure of speech.”  

Hermione dropped her bag on the desk next to his and pulled out her wand again.  “Harry, Ron and Ginny are at Quidditch practice,” she said calmly.  “I have about half an hour.  Let’s get started.”

Once Malfoy had admitted, grudgingly and under sharp questioning, that he may have dosed off during the theoretical part of the class on cleaning charms and Hermione had hunted out and duplicated her own notes for him, the lesson proceeded at speed.  Much to her surprise, Hermione found that when not going out of his way to be unpleasant, Malfoy was intelligent, quick to pick up new ideas, and surprisingly easy to talk to.  She enjoyed the opportunity to discuss their recent classes, and found that, even though he had been behind on much of what they’d been studying, he picked up the principles quickly enough to hold his own in discussion.  By the time Hermione departed for lunch, almost two hours later, the cleaning charm had been mastered, an ancient runes assignment explained, a transfiguration essay remembered, and several other sets of notes had also been duplicated and handed over.  She’d made a point of including the previous day’s transfiguration notes and handed them over with a wry smile.  He’d turned slightly pink at that point and rubbed the back of his neck in the way Harry did when she’d caught him doing something wrong.  Hermione was devoutly thankful that the Marauders’ Map was tucked safely into her bag, out of Harry’s hands.

“You should eat,” Hermione advised as Malfoy sat back down at the desk again, while she eventually headed out of the classroom.  

He shook his head.  “I don’t have time.  But thanks for the help, really.”  

She hesitated, and then took advantage of this unusual level of rapport to add,  ”You can let me know if you need anything else.  Even if it’s more notes, or you just want someone to talk to.”  He looked as surprised as she felt at the offer, and she almost immediately regretted it.

“Thanks, Granger.  You never know, I might take you up on that.  I mean, I’m not sure how we’d work it out, but I’ve enjoyed talking to you.  It’s… nice to talk to someone who doesn’t have any ulterior motives, and doesn’t want to pick a fight with me.  And I could use the help to stop failing stuff.”

“I’ll work something out.  We can’t spend time together because Harry’s got his eye on you and he’ll freak if he sees us together.”

“Someone told me you can cast a Protean charm?” he asked curiously.  She nodded.  “Then give me until Monday.  I’ll see you in Arithmancy.”

“And all your other classes,” she pointed out drily.  “The ones you’re allowed in.  Bye, Malfoy.  Get some food and some sleep.”  He gave her a lazy salute and she was shocked to find herself smiling as she left the room.  Ginny joined her a few corridors later.

“What are you grinning at?” Hermione fumbled for an answer that wasn’t ‘Malfoy’, but thankfully Ginny didn’t seem too concerned.  “Never mind.  Come on, it was bloody perishing out there and then the damn shower wouldn’t even run hot.  I need soup.  Lots of soup.”

14th April 1997

On the Monday morning, Hermione took her seat in Arithmancy with a tremor of nerves.  Across the aisle, Theo Nott was flirting lazily with Padma, who was occupying Malfoy’s usual seat and who shot her a small smile as she arrived.  Hermione returned it.  Nott himself gave her a penetrating look, and then shook his head slowly, smirking.  She ignored him.  

Seconds before Professor Vector appeared, Malfoy dropped into the empty seat beside her.  When he bent down to take his things out his bag, Hermione felt him slip something into hers.  She resisted the urge to look, instead focusing on the Professor, who was in the process of summoning all the completed assignments.  Hermione and Draco’s landed on the top of the pile, and the Arithmancy Professor looked at it with raised eyebrows, and a small smile.  

Beside her, Hermione felt Malfoy give a small sigh, as if of relief.  She chanced a brief glance out the corner of her eye. The shadows under his eyes were lighter, and there was faint colour in his face.  He caught her scrutiny and twitched an eyebrow.

“You slept?” she mouthed silently, when the Professor had turned away.  He shrugged a single shoulder, and smirked at her, before bending studiously over his parchment.  Hermione followed his example.

That evening, Hermione shut the curtains on her bed and cast the protean charm on the two very expensive looking leather bound journals that she’d found in her bag.  Testing the charm successfully, she slipped one back into Draco’s bag the following day.  It was late that night that the journal chimed softly to get her attention.

DM: Hello Granger

HG: Malfoy.  Did you want something?

DM: Just to test your spellwork.

HG: Well that’s rude.  If you were so concerned, you could have cast the charm yourself.

DM: I didn’t have time to learn it.  Other things on.

HG: What other things? Because they are not schoolwork, quidditch, sleeping or eating.

DM: Can’t tell you.

HG: Is it war related?

DM: Yes.

HG: Is it… bad?

DM: Yes.

HG: Can I do anything to help?

DM: With my mission? No.  I have to do it alone.  That’s one of the things that Theo and I were fighting about.  He wants to help.

HG: He’s smart.  Maybe he could.

DM: Not allowed.  It’s a punishment for my father, for screwing up the Ministry mission.  They’ve given me something impossible.  Anyway, I don’t want him involved.  Things are shit enough for him without getting involved in this with me.  I’m trying to keep him safe.

HG: By punching him and then refusing to speak to him?

DM: Yes.  Anyway, he hasn’t lost anything.  He can chat up Patil now.

HG: Boys are idiots.  If you think of a way that I can help, you can let me know.

DM: No.

16th April 1997

DM: Granger.

HG: Malfoy.

DM: My potions notes from today say ‘Mix in a grotted bilig undra torad’ and then trail off into a line.

HG: Did you fall asleep again?

DM: No.

HG: Hmm.

DM: Maybe for a few minutes.  Can you send me point 7 in the instructions?

HG: ‘Mix in a galvanized bowl until totally combined’.

DM: I was close.

HG: I would have enjoyed watching your potion explode after you guessed the instruction.

DM: My potions never explode, Granger.  I have talent.

HG: But alas, no modesty.

DM: False modesty is worse than no modesty, Granger.  Potions is the only class I can beat you in.  Give me the win.

HG: Never.

21^st April 1997

HG: Did you pass your apparition test?

DM: Naturally.  Did you?

HG: Of course.  We got an O for Arithmancy.

DM: I expected no less.  I have also managed not to be thrown out of Charms.

HG: Nice going.  What about Transfiguration?

DM: Wrote the essay from your notes.  McGonagall looked like I’d just requested a transfer to Gryffindor when I handed it in.  Do you need to use so much of the pink thing?

HG: It’s a highlighter.  It’s a muggle thing to draw attention to the important bits.

DM: I don’t care what it is, it’s an obnoxious colour.

HG: Tough.  Beggars can’t be choosers, Malfoy.  I’m sure Nott would lend you his notes instead if you were speaking to him.

DM: Don’t start.

HG: On that note, when did you last eat?

DM: Breakfast this morning, Mother.

HG: It’s seven at night!  Go and get some food, or I’ll order a house elf to force feed you.  Tell me when you’ve eaten.

~

DM: I’ve eaten.

HG: Good boy.  Get to bed now.

DM: Fuck, Granger, don’t say things like that to a man.

23^rd April 1997

HG: I heard on the grapevine that you broke up with Pansy.

DM: Yes.  Weeks ago.  Seems it takes news a while to get all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.

HG: Why?

DM: Don’t want her involved in this.

HG: Honestly, Malfoy, can’t you tell me what ‘this’ is?

DM: How many times do I have to tell you I can’t?

HG: So for this mystery task, you need to push away everyone you were friends with?  I saw Zabini come storming out Charms earlier on too, was that your fault?

DM: Probably. Most things seem to be.

DM: Anyway, I haven’t pushed everyone away.  I’m talking to you, aren’t I?

HG: Only because I’m soft enough to let you borrow my notes, despite everything.

DM: No, not only for that reason.

HG: Sure.  I am aware that you’re using me for classwork, there’s no need to pretend.  I’ll still help, even if you’re honest with me.  I’m just a muggle-born, after all.  I’m under no illusions as to your opinions of me, Malfoy.  You’ve yelled them often enough.

HG: Malfoy?

25^th April 1997

DM: It’s taken me two days and now half a bottle of fire whiskey to be able to write this.  

HG: Oh, hello.  You’re back then?

DM:My opinion of you is that you’re a smart, talented, and beautiful witch.  You are also one of the kindest people I’ve ever had the good fortune to come across, given your trick with the Arithmancy project and the amount of classwork you’ve lent me to stop me being kicked out.  I have given it my best shot, multiple times, to beat you, and I’ve failed at every turn.  I’m sorry for ever suggesting anything different, Granger.  I’m sorry for everything.  I’m sorry for being me.  And I truly appreciate all the things you’ve done for me over the last few weeks.  Given that I’ve had to distance myself from everyone else, you’ve really helped.  In all honesty, I think I would have gone mad without you.

HG: Are you drunk?  Should I be ignoring this?

DM: In vino veritas, Granger.

HG: Go to sleep, Malfoy.

27th April 1997

DM: Transfiguration: delecto or deleo?

HG: What happened to your Latin? And your perfect pureblood handwriting?

DM: Can’t read it.  I wasn’t entirely awake when I was writing it down.

HG: Delego.  You really need to start sleeping at night instead of in classes.  And are we just ignoring your drunken ramblings?

DM: Don’t know what you’re talking about.

HG: I see.  Well, I appreciated it anyway, so thank you.

DM: Piss off, Granger.  Thanks for the Latin.

HG: No problem.

3rd May 1997

HG: On the subject of Latin, here’s one for you.  Ad Astra per Aspera.  You look crap today, and I guess everything is getting on top of you again.  I’m here for you if you need me.

DM: I can’t see me making it to the stars, Granger.  I’m pretty much stuck in the ‘adversity’ bit.

HG: You’re literally named after the stars.

DM: How the might have fallen, then.  From the stars to adversity, that’s me.

HG: Can I do anything?

DM: No.

6th May 1997

DM: Can I see you?

DM: I’m struggling.  I think I’m ready to go with you to Dumbledore.

DM: Hermione?  Will you come with me?

HG: Are you OK?  Harry told us what happened. I have never been so angry with him in all my life.

HG: I suppose you’re in the hospital wing and didn’t take your journal.  When you get back to Slytherin, let me know you’re OK?  I’m worried about you.

DM: I’m here.  I always have my journal.

HG: What happened?

DM: What did Potter tell you?

HG: He found you upset in the bathroom with Myrtle, you dueled, you tried to Crucio him and he retorted with a spell he’d read in a book somewhere.  Then you nearly died.

DM:  Hmm.  Pretty accurate.

HG: Honestly, boys!  I don’t know if I’m more worried about you crying in a bathroom, furious at you casting an unforgivable, or livid at Harry for being a bloody idiot.

DM: I shall await your decision, comforted by the knowledge that you’ve already had a go at Potter.

HG: Are you actually OK?  I don’t mean with regard to the duel with Harry.

DM: I was just having a bad day, that’s all.

HG: Is it about your mission?  Harry said he heard you saying that someone was going to kill you.

DM: Well, I was right.  Potter tried.

DM: And you already know that there’s not much chance of me surviving this mission.  Or this war.  Or, if fucking Potter has anything to do with it, making it to my 17^th Birthday.

HG: I hate it when you talk like this.  Why won’t you come with me to Dumbledore?  I’m sure he’ll protect you and your family.

DM: My father is literally in Azkaban.  With Death Eaters.  My mother is living in my house - with Death Eaters and You Know Who.  There is no way that Dumbledore can get to either of them before they get killed if I defect.  We have been through this, Granger.  It’s not happening!

HG: And you won’t tell me what you have to do?

DM: How can I?  Honestly, you are the most frustrating woman!  Have you not grasped that you and I are on opposite sides here?

HG: I know.  I just… wish we weren’t.  You shouldn’t be.  Or are you going to tell me that you really and truly still believe that you’re superior to me? Because I’m damn sure it doesn’t feel like you do any more.  Especially if you want me to believe that you’re not just after my notes.

DM: I’m superior to everyone Granger, I’m Draco fucking Malfoy.  But no, for the record, I don’t believe all the blood purity crap.  It’s hard to when you’ve been kept off the top of the exam lists by a muggle-born for six years.

HG: Thank you for saying that.

DM: Piss off, Granger.

9th May 1997

HG: Hows the scarring?

DM: Gone from my face.

HG: Well, that’s something.

DM: Indeed.  It would have been a travesty if this perfect visage had been permanently mutilated.

HG: Wow.

DM: That is often the reaction women have to my face, yes.

HG: Presumably followed by ‘how can anyone cope with being so pointy’?

DM: Piss off, Granger.

Hermione giggled, interpreting this as a win.  Ron looked up from here he was cursing at his Transfiguration essay.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“Nothing,” Hermione replied defensively, closing the journal and stuffing it into her bag.  Ron's eyes followed the movement.

“What’s that?”

“My diary,” she said promptly.  

Ron snorted.  “Seems odd to be giggling at what you’re writing in your own diary.”

“Maybe it’s writing back,” Hermione quipped.  

Harry glanced up sharply from the opposite side of the table.  “Not funny,” he snapped.  

She sighed.  “What do you want me to say?  I’m having a clandestine chat with Malfoy while you two do your homework?  It’s my diary.  Something funny occurred to me and I laughed, that’s all.”

“What d’you want to bring up secret chats with Malfoy for?” Ron grumbled.  “That’s hardly necessary and a bloody stupid suggestion into the bargain.  Like he’d talk to you.  Like you’d talk to him!  Here, read this for me and tell me if it’s right, would you?”  Harry pushed his hopefully towards her as well.  Hermione rolled her eyes, took up Ron’s essay, and started reading.

5th June 1997

HG: Happy 17^th Birthday Malfoy. Congratulations on reaching Wizarding Adulthood.

DM: Wow.  Thanks.

HG: Any nice plans?

DM: Literally no one except you and my mother has even acknowledged it.  So no.

HG: I wonder why that could be.  Possibly because you’ve pushed away all your friends and are refusing to talk to anyone?

DM: Very likely.  It’s my birthday. Don’t start lecturing me.

HG: You should find a way to celebrate.

DM: Yeah.  I can absolutely see that happening.

HG: We have the afternoon free.  Meet me in the seventh floor corridor after Transfiguration.

DM: Granger, I have work to do.

HG: Malfoy, even I take a day off for my birthday.

DM: Lies, Granger.

HG: Look.  You can spend the afternoon doing whatever messed up thing it is that you are doing that makes you so miserable, or you can spend it celebrating your birthday.  Your call.

~

Hermione found herself anxious during the classes she had that morning.  In Transfiguration, she couldn’t even see Malfoy, who sat in the back corner as far away from her as it was possible to be.  She left afterwards, making her excuses to Harry and Ron who were trying to decide if they wanted to spend their free afternoon on Gobstones or Quidditch.  Quidditch normally won, but a most unseasonal wind was battering raindrops against the castle windows and even the most ardent Quidditch fans were put off.  Leaving them bickering about it, she slipped upstairs to the Seventh Floor corridor and paced back and forth in front of the wall until the door appeared.

She opened it slowly, and beamed delightedly at the result.

“This isn’t the Room of Lost Things,” a voice behind her said.  Hermione felt her stomach flip, but she didn’t turn around.

“No,” she said.  “That would be a crap place for a birthday celebration, don’t you think?”  Much to her surprise, Malfoy laughed as he followed her through the door.

They were standing in a wildflower meadow, stretching off for what seemed like miles in each direction.  Mountains ringed it, and somewhere there was the sound of running water.

“Where are we?” he asked.  

Hermione smiled.  “Austria,” she said calmly.  “Or at least, an approximation of it.  I was here on holiday a few years ago with my parents, and I thought it was the loveliest place I’d ever seen.”  

He gazed around.  “You might be right,” he said softly.  “So, Granger, you’ve got me here.  What ‘s your plan?”  

Hermione gestured to the middle of the field.  “I’ve got us a picnic,” she said.  “Sorry, it was the best I could come up with on short notice.”

“Who made the picnic?”

“A friendly house elf,” Hermione replied, her voice tense.

“You don’t approve of house elves,” Malfoy observed, offering her his arm as they strolled across the uneven ground.  

“No, I don’t.  And this is not an argument I want to have with you today.  But the one who prepared this is different.  I can work with him.”

“I see.  Dobby, then?”   

Hermione sighed.  “Yes.”  She braced herself for an argument or a mocking comment, but instead Malfoy merely nodded.

“Good.  It’s been years since I had one of Dobby’s picnics.  He used to be excellent at them.  Is this the place?”

They cast cushioning charms on the ground under the blankets, and sat close together, sharing the food.  Malfoy ate politely, but continuously, as if taking the opportunity to do so while he had it.  When the basket was empty, he collapsed back on to the blanket with a groan.

“It would be terribly rude to loosen my belt in front of a lady,” he observed.  Hermione shrugged.

“I could turn my back and pretend not to notice,” she offered.

He looked thoughtful, then after a moment grimaced and nodded.  “Yes please.”  She obediently turned away until a sigh of relief  sounded behind her, and turned back as Malfoy was smoothing down his robes.  “What’s next on the agenda?” he asked, sounding relaxed.  Hermione shrugged, inwardly gloating at the sleepy tone.

“I don’t know about you, but after a meal like that I’m doing nothing for the next half hour,” she observed, stretching out herself.  He gave  a short laugh and acquiesced.  Hermione gave it ten minutes and then cracked one eye open.  As she’d expected, he’d fallen deeply asleep, helped by the cushioning charms and the big meal.  His face had relaxed with sleep, the tension and stress fading from it causing it to look younger and, Hermione considered, much nicer. She gently  placed another blanket over him, and then withdrew a novel from her schoolbag and started to read.

It was getting on for two hours later when Malfoy stirred, opened his eyes, and sat up in horror.

“I’m sorry!” he said hastily, smoothing down his hair.  “That was very rude of me.”

“Not at all,” Hermione replied, calmly.  “I’ve had a lovely time with my book.  Do you feel better?”  

Malfoy paused, and gave this due consideration. “Yes, actually,” he said eventually.  “That was the best sleep I’ve had in months.”

“Then that’s your birthday present from me,” Hermione said cheerfully.  

He sighed.  “Well, thanks, Granger.  Do you need to get back?”

“Nope.  There’s a stream over there.  I was going to go paddling,” she said, smiling both at the idea and at the horrified look on Malfoy’s face.  She stood up, pulled off her robes, jumper and tie and left them with the picnic basket, and set off across the grass.  He caught her up a few minutes later, also having abandoned the outer parts of his uniform.

“This is what counts as fun for muggles?” he asked, curiously.

“It’s one thing,” Hermione replied, as they reached the edge of the stream.  The crystal clear water tinkled merrily over the large flat stones in exactly the way she remembered it doing. She sat down and removed her socks and shoes.  Malfoy watched her, wonderingly.  “Are you coming?” she asked.

He watched her wade into the water.  She was staring at her feet, smiling at the distortion as the water rippled over them.  She looked back at him and held out a hand.

“Are you coming in?”

In what he would later characterize as a moment of madness, Draco stripped off his own socks and shoes, and rolled up his trouser legs before wading in beside her.  The loose stones were slippier than he expected and he stumbled, grabbing on to the arm that Hermione had reflexively thrown out to stop him.  He bumped into her.

“Careful,” she said, warningly, as he regained his balance.  “If you put us in we’ll get soaked.”

“If only,” he began, teasingly, “If only we were magical and could dry ourselves off with a spell!”  Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she said, grinning, and took a few steps back before flicking one foot up out the water and sending a showed of drops all over him.  He froze for a moment and then smiled at her, warm and genuine.  She was so taken aback that she didn’t notice him bending to fill his cupped hands with the cold water, which he threw over her.  She retaliated, and before long they were both soaked.  Hermione’s hair had come loose from the twist she’d had it secured in and was cold against her back.  Draco’s fringe was hanging untidily in his eyes.

“I quit,” she gasped, eventually.  He stopped, still laughing, and held out a hand to help her out the water.  She accepted it, allowing him to pull her onto the bank where she tried to wring the water out of her skirt.   “You better be a dab hand at drying charms, Malfoy,” she grinned.  He cleared his throat, turning his face away from her.  There was a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“Your erm… your top has gone see-through,” he said awkwardly.  Hermione glanced down, and blushed herself.

“Damn,” she muttered, casting a drying charm on her shirt.  “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be embarrassed by a look at my bra, though,” she said.  “I mean, if the rumours about Slytherin House are true, you’ve seen plenty.”  

He laughed, surprised.  “And what are those rumours?”  

Hermione shook her head.  “Oh, if you haven’t heard them it’s not my job to get you up to speed,” she said cheerfully.  They set to work with drying charms, exchanging joking comments as they both tried to get their hair back to normal.  Hermione found herself admiring the way that the damp clothes clung to the angles and lines of Draco’s body, and gave herself a firm mental shake.

Once they were dry and warm, he offered her his arm again as they strolled back towards where they’d left their robes and the picnic basket.  They gathered up the robes, pulling back on the jumpers and knotting the ties.

“Dammit!” Malfoy swore.  Hermione looked up from where she was fastening her robe to see him still wrestling with his tie.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.  He made a face.

“Can’t do this without a mirror.”

She laughed, and then wondered at the fact that she could laugh at Draco Malfoy without being hexed.  “Come here,” she sighed.

Untangling and re-tieing Draco Malfoy’s tie was a much more intimate experience than Hermione had anticipated.  Her fingers brushed the skin of his neck, which made his breath catch, and when she brushed his jaw while fixing his shirt collar, he closed his eyes.  Hermione hesitated once it was done, momentarily unwilling to step away, and was therefore still close when Draco opened his eyes.  His fingers closed on her hip, drawing her closer to him, while his other hand tangled in her hair and tipped her head back.  She caught a momentary flash of grey eyes before his lips closed on hers.

The hand on her hip moved round to rest on her arse, and she felt him pull her impossibly closer.  She could feel every plane and angle of his body now, pressed against her as his tongue moved against hers.  He groaned, and she pulled away slightly to kiss the sensitive spots on his neck and jaw that her fingers had found moments before.  Draco pulled her face back to his and kissed her again, and then they stood, still holding on to each other, with their foreheads resting together.

“Fuck,” Draco said softly.  “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“No,” Hermione agreed.  “If you want, we could pretend it didn’t.”

“I do not want,” Draco said firmly.  “Perhaps, instead, we put a pin in it until after the war?”

“After the war might be years.  After your mission?”

Draco laughed darkly at the suggestion and the mood shifted abruptly.  “Don’t worry.  After my mission, if I’m even alive, you won’t want to be anywhere near me let alone kissing me.  I should stop fooling myself.  Goodbye, Granger.  Thank you for today.  It’s been a wonderful birthday.”  He pulled away from her, swung around, and disappeared out the door.

Hermione sat down limply among the ruins of the picnic.  She halfheartedly put a few things back into the basket, and then slowly began to cry.

Chapter Text

30^th June 1997

DM: Stay in your tower tonight.  It’s time.  And I’m so sorry.  I have to do this.  I’ve waited as long as I can.

(much later)

HG: You vile, loathsome man.  You utter piece of shit. You pathetic fucking ferret!

HG: I can’t believe you did that.  All the time I spent supporting you this term, all the times I made sure that you ate and slept and helped you get your schoolwork done so that you could focus on your ‘project’ and this is what you were working on?  People died tonight, Malfoy!  People died because of you!  Dumbledore died because of you! I can’t believe I ever actually trusted you.  You were absolutely right with what you said on your birthday - it’s now after your mission, and I don’t want to be anywhere near you.  

HG: Seems like Harry was right all along and you’re just the pathetic Death Eater creep he always said you were.  I can’t believe that I ever thought there was any more to you.

HG: I thought when you walked away from me on your birthday, that was the biggest disappointment I would have to bear from you.  I was wrong.  This is the biggest disappointment.  I thought more of you, Draco, I really did.  I thought you were a good man, underneath it all.  I can’t believe I got you so wrong.

HG: Goodbye.

~

He’d read the words ten times that night alone.  A hundred times by the end of the following day.  He would read them a hundred times more, he was sure.  ‘I thought you were a good man’ - He could hear it in her voice.  Heard it when the Slytherins poured into the common room the following day, when Crabbe and Goyle were banging him on the back, shouting about how it had all been worth it.  Heard it when he read the report in the newspaper.  

Heard it loudly, and not just in her voice, on the single, solitary occasion he’d made eye contact with Theo.  Theo had looked disgusted.  Sickened.  Had stared at him like he was a stranger, and then slowly, slowly, shaken his head and turned away.  It seemed that Theo had also thought he was a good man.  He heard it again when, from a distance, he watched Weasley and Granger together at Dumbledore’s funeral.  Not many of the older Slytherins had attended.  Theo was in the back row.  Hermione was sobbing on Weasley’s shoulder.  The sick, tearing feeling this gave him inside wasn’t enough to drown out the despair he’d felt from her words.

He turned the pages slowly.  The next messages were all from him, shouting into the void, apologising to someone who would, in all likelihood, never read the apologies.

1st July 1997

DM: I’m sorry.

DM: Are you OK?  I saw you fighting.

DM: Did you get hurt?

DM: Presuming you didn’t, or I’d have heard.  I hope you’re OK.  I don’t want to think about you getting hurt because of me.

DM: I’m so sorry.

2^nd July 1997

DM: I didn’t realise how much this would hurt.  How much I would hate having the whole world - at least, that part of it that is sane - hating me like this.  I know I deserve it.  But seeing the looks - the disgust - the hatred - on the faces of people I don’t even know… that’s hard.

DM: I don’t want to see you.  I don’t want to see that look on your face.

DM: I didn’t realise that succeeding would mean I lost everything.  I should have, but I didn’t.  It was supposed to make things better, not worse.

3rd July 1997

DM: I’m sorry Granger.  I didn’t have any choice.  You have to understand that, please.  I’ll beg, if that’s what you need.  Please Hermione.

5th July 1997

He’d been summoned to a meeting.  He arrived robed and masked, as his uncle had told him to.  His aunt and uncle seemed proud - in fact, Aunt Bella was beaming at him in a way he’d never seen before.  His mother, however, only looked concerned.  He put on his mask, checked his wand was holstered on his arm, and walked into the smoking room with Rodolphus.  If he walked tall enough, and stood confidently enough, it was almost enough to convince himself that he was a proper part of this now.  That he would be among those who would re-build the world.  The foremost of the new society.

“Ah, Rodolphus.  Take a seat.”  Draco wasn’t asked to.  He stood behind his uncle’s chair, not quite leaning against the wall.  It was hard to know who was who when everyone was hooded and masked.  He supposed that was the point.

“Ah, excellent,” The Dark Lord sat back as a house elf appeared with several bottles of wine - wine that Draco just knew had come straight from the Malfoy cellars.  The Dark Lord waited until the bottles been placed on the ornate sideboard and then aimed a kick at the creature, who squeaked and vanished.  Draco thought of Granger, and then forced himself not to.  “Draco, pour the wine, please.”  He almost missed the instruction, and was then confused by it.  Rodolphus turned his head.

“The wine, Draco,” he said warningly.  “Pour for us.  Now, please.”

Almost fumbling, Draco picked up the first bottle and approached the table.  The Dark Lord’s goblet was filled first.  He picked it up and sipped, slowly, paying less attention to Draco than he had to the House Elf.  Draco made his way round the table, filling all the goblets, and then, for lack of anything else to do, stood beside the sideboard.  He closed his eyes, and it was Theo’s disgusted expression that he saw, and Hermione’s voice that he heard. ‘I thought you were a good man’.

In a single second, he realised what was needed. He decided on his path.  On the far side of the table, one of the masked men looked towards him.  Snape, he knew.  He’d recognised the hands on the goblet, recognised the set of his shoulders under the black robe. The thought of Snape reminded him that his mind was not private, and he tightened his occlumency shields immediately.  Snape gave a minute nod, and returned his attention to the discussion at hand.

Draco did the same.

~

DM: There was a meeting tonight.  They’re trying to get their hands on Potter.  Thought you might want to know.  Maybe you can pass it along to whoever is in charge over there, or something?

DM: Also, I’m so very sorry.

7th July 1997

DM: I wonder if you’ll ever forgive me?  I didn’t have a choice, Granger.  I hope you know that.

8^th July 1997

DM: OK, that was a lie.  I did have a choice.  I just chose my families lives over Dumbledore's.  Technically, I suppose, I chose my families lives over mine, as I never really expected to survive it.  Maybe on your side you would say that was no choice at all.  But when your entire family is just three people, it’s important to you.

9^th July 1997

DM: Your entire family is three people, isn’t it, Granger.  Fuck.  I just can’t stop making things worse.

10th July 1997

DM : I’m going to give up failing to explain myself and just keep apologising for as long as it takes, Granger.  I’m sorry.

15th July 1997

DM: There was another meeting tonight.  They are expecting you to move Potter from his aunt and uncle’s place on 30^th, since the git turns 17 on 31^st.  Things I learned today - Harry Potters fucking birthday.  Think I should send him a card?

DM: I bet he doesn’t have a birthday as good as mine was.

DM: I don’t know if you're even reading this any more.  I don’t know if this information will help anyone or anything.  Maybe you burned your journal, or threw it in the Black Lake, or gave it to Moaning Myrtle.  Whatever you did with it, I hope no one can find it.  Or maybe I deserve them to find it.  Maybe them finding out I’ve been writing to a muggle-born for months will finally make them finish this.

DM: I wish you still had it though.  I miss talking to you.  There’s no one, now.

18th July 1997

DM: I’m sorry, Granger.  I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing, I’m sorry I didn’t let you march me to Dumbledore and scream at him that I needed to be saved.  I’m sorry I didn’t let you save me when you tried so hard.  I’m sorry for all the names I’ve called you, for all the hexes in the corridors, for the cruel imitations, for ever believing that you were below me.

DM: I did the mission.  They gave me a mission they didn't believe I could do and I fucking did it and it’s still not enough.  Do you know how I’m getting the information to pass on to you now, Granger?  Because they are letting me stand at the side of the room while they meet and serve them wine.  That’s my job.  Masked and robed, and made to wait on them like an elf.  “Boy, my cup is empty,” and I need to serve scum like Theo’s father, who beats his son half to death any time he’s bored.  People like my ‘uncle’ Rodolphus, who has an imperioused muggle bought to his room every night, and the corpse disposed of in the morning.  My Aunt Bella, who is an actual psychopath.  Even my mother looks scared of her.

DM: I don’t know now if I’m hoping you do still have the journal, or you don’t.  Either way, I wish I’d had time to tell you everything I wanted to.  I wish I’d been brave enough.  I wish I’d done things differently.

25^th July 1997

DM: Granger, I’m sorry.

DM: You have no idea how much I wish I’d failed.

DM: They’re going to step up the surveillance on Potter's house, so if you haven’t go him out yet you might want to do it soon.

DM: We’re at war now, and it’s all my fault.

DM: Granger, I’m so sorry.

HG: Yes, you’ve said that repeatedly.

HG: My journal was in my trunk at The Burrow and I was away with my parents, dealing with some things.  I didn’t realise you’d keep writing to me after the last message I sent you.

DM: You’re there!  I thought you’d burned it!

HG: No.  I would have, but Harry saw you on the tower.  He said you lowered your wand.  He said it wasn’t you, it was Snape.  He told me that after I said you were a Death Eater creep, so I’m sorry about that. I’ve read all your messages.

DM: You believe that?

HG: Yes.  I know you, Malfoy.  Better now than I ever did, I think.

DM: And don’t apologise.  I literally am a Death Eater, it’s burned into my skin.  And as for creep, well, I’m sure I can be that too.

HG: You know what I meant by it and you know that you’re not like that.  And so do I. I’m sorry for ever thinking differently about you.

DM: What do I do now?  How can I regain your trust? Please Hermione, this time I’m begging you to help me.

HG: I thought you might ask that.  I’ve had an idea.  You can turn spy - like you pretty much already have.  Everything you can find out, every single thing, you send to me - like you have been doing about the plan to capture Harry.  I’ll pass your messages to someone more senior.  You tell me, I tell her.

DM: Who?

HG: Tonks.  Your cousin, Nymphadora.

DM: Why her?

HG: Because she’s your family, and you trust family.  I thought you’d prefer me to take things to her than to anyone else.

DM: OK.  But don’t tell her who I am.

HG: Of course not.

DM: Will this make up for it?  Can this fix us?

HG: I don’t know.  I don’t know if anything can.  But it will be a start.

~

“Hermione, this is ridiculous.  What do you mean you have a spy but you can’t tell me who it is?  What on Earth have you got yourself in to?”

“It’s very simple, Tonks.  Either you want information from You-Know-Who’s inner circle or you don’t.  If you do, I can get you it.  My contact will send it to me, and I’ll copy the messages into this journal for you.”

“Why not just give me that one and I can talk to them directly?” Tonks asked.  Hermione clutched her own journal tighter, as if Tonks was about to snatch it from her.

“No.”

“Oh, like that is it?” Tonks looked amused.  Hermione flushed.  “Does Ron know?”

“It’s nothing to do with Ron,” Hermione retorted.  Tonks laughed.

“Nothing to do with anyone that you’re having a thing with one of Voldie’s inner circle, I suppose.  Which, as a responsible adult, I should tell you that I’m mildly concerned about.  They’re all about a hundred and ten, or insane.”

“They’re not, and I’m not having a thing. It’s an inappropriate crush, that’s all.”

“And don’t we all have those,” Tonks grinned.  “OK, Hermione.  We’ll do it your way.  But let me know if you need help - either with the spy handling, or the crush.  Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

26^th July 1997

DM: No one has mentioned killing you, so at the present time I am labouring under the assumption that you are still alive.

HG: That’s because no one did.  I’m still here.

DM: Tough night?

HG: The worst, frankly.

DM: Want to talk about it?

HG: Not really.  It went badly.  Moody’s dead. George lost an ear to Snape.  Harry lost his owl.

DM: I knew about Moody.  Can’t say I feel any fondness for the man after 4^th year.

HG: That wasn’t Moody, that was Barty Crouch under polyjuice. You know this.

DM: Still don’t like him

HG: Ah, a reasoned argument.  My favourite.  I’m not in the mood to argue.  Moody was a good man, and the best we had since Dumbledore died.

DM: Who’s in charge now?

HG: Should you be asking questions like that?

DM: You think I’m a double agent, Granger?  You’re the one who said I was on your side.  Do you know what they’d do to me if they knew I was in contact with you?

HG: I can guess.  But then, if you want to be safer, you could always burn your journal.

DM: Then how can I get information to you?

HG: I can tell Tonks that it’s too risky for you, that you’ve dropped out the agreement.

DM: No.  I can do this.  It’s not as bad last year, after all.

HG: Possibly. It’s Lupin and Shacklebolt.

DM: Could be worse.  At least they didn’t put Potter in charge.  Get some sleep, Granger.  It will be easier to deal with this in the morning.

HG: You too.  Goodnight, Malfoy.

1st August 1997

DM: There’s an attack on the Ministry today.  I’ve only just found out.

DM: They’re going after the Minister, and the Weasley wedding.

DM: Granger, are you there?

DM: Please let me know when you’re safe.

2nd August 1997

HG: We’re safe.  We’re in hiding - I won’t tell you where.

DM: You have no idea the relief it is to see your handwriting.

HG: Everything OK on your side?

DM: So far.  It’s lonely.  There’s no one to talk to but Crabbe and Goyle.

HG: That’s good, isn’t it?  Means they haven’t marked any of your other friends.

DM: A bunch of the older ones are next on the list.  Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, a few others.

HG: Well, I’m always here.  We have a mission to do that I can’t tell you about, but I’ll reply as often as I can.

DM: How the tables turn, Granger.

HG: You could always contact some of your old friends, try and mend some bridges.  I know you’re determined to have nothing to do with Theo, but there must be others who have brains.

HG: You know, you distancing yourself from Theo to try and stop him being marked was the only thing I could think of when Harry said he was going off on this mad crusade and wasn’t planning to take us with him.  Maybe you’re more alike than you want to think.

DM: Hermione Granger, I am appalled.

HG: Write to someone.  Other than me.

DM: Maybe.

5th August 1997

DM: They’ve made me Head Boy.

HG: Congratulations?

DM: Just think, even if there hadn’t been a war and a murder plot to bring us together, we’d have ended up together this year.

HG: Why?

DM: You should have been Head Girl.

HG: Who is?

DM: Hannah Abbot.  A Hufflepuff.

HG: Interesting choice.

DM: Indeed. A Potter fan-girl, and a Hufflepuff.  Can’t wait.

HG: Hannah’s lovely.

DM: And a Hufflepuff.

HG: Oh, shut up, Malfoy.

7th August 1997

DM: I sent an owl to Blaise today.  You’ll be proud.  I grovelled.  Draco Malfoy does not grovel.

HG: Or perhaps, Draco Malfoy has never fucked everything up quite so badly that he needed to grovel?

HG: Well done though.  You’re right, I am proud.  Did he reply?

DM: Told me I was a dick and that he hated me.

HG: Ah, Slytherin love language.

DM: Piss off, Granger.

HM: Yeah, you too Malfoy.

10th August 1997

DM: They are planning to arrest muggle born students on the train to Hogwarts.  Right down to first years.  Straight to Azkaban.

HG: What? You’re kidding!

DM: Unfortunately, I am not.  I was very thankful that my mask was on when I heard that discussion.  Even my occlumency failed me - temporarily.

HG: I’ll let Tonks know.  Thanks, Malfoy.

HG: And work harder at the occlumency.  You can’t afford to have it fail, temporarily or otherwise.  It’s vital.

HG: We can’t afford to lose you.

DM: We’ll agree to differ on that one.  But I have been doing extra exercises.  

15^th August 1997

DM: Got a howler from Pansy.

HG: And?

DM: She’s pissed that I didn’t grovel to her like I did to Blaise.  Apparently Daphne told her about it.  Seems I’m quite the subject of conversation this summer.

HG: What did you do?

DM: Sent a reply, of course.  Grovelling.  That makes 3 people I’ve done that for this summer.  I don’t know what’s come over me.

HG: A conscience, maybe?  A moral compass?  A sense of decency?

DM: How terribly inconvenient.

22nd August 1997

DM: I see you adorning the front page of the Prophet today.  Undesirable Number Two.  Not often you come second to anyone, Granger, is it?  Hope your hideout is secure.

DM: They've got people watching one of the old Black family houses in London.  I’m tempted to volunteer to take a turn just to come and see you.  Do you think we could sneak a chat without Potter or Weasley trying to blow my head off?

HG: That would be reckless.

DM: I honestly don’t care.

HG: It would be stupid.

DM: I am facing the realisation that I have, in fact, done many stupid things.

HG: It would be insane and unnecessary.

DM: I want to do it anyway.

HG: It would even be Gryffindor-esque.

DM: You wound me, Granger.

HG: Did it work?

DM: Yes.  I’m not volunteering.

HG: Good boy.

1st September 1997

DM: Well, here we go.  At least I’ve got Blaise and Pansy back on side.  And Blaise has talked Daphne round too.

HG: Hope it goes well.  Do what you need to to survive, but don’t do anything stupid, will you?  And no murder plots this year please, you have to top the year in my absence.  Don’t leave it to Theo.

DM: Theo wishes he even had a chance.

HG: Try not to be too hard on Ginny, will you?  I know you can’t stand Weasleys, but for my sake.

DM: Honestly, what more can you ask of me?  Spying for you, topping the year, being nice to a Weasley…

HG: You don’t have to be nice.  Just don’t go out of your way to be cruel.

DM: Do you even know me, Granger?

HG: Oh yes, Malfoy.  Far better than you think.

DM: Piss off, Granger.

Chapter Text

“Ginny Weasley,” she muttered to herself, dragging her trunk the length of the platform. “Abandoned, left behind, unwanted, unwillingly single, and about to embark of the worst year of my life.”  She passed the prefects, gathering near the back of the train.  “Leave you to protect you, Ginny… protect me by letting me come back to this, alone, without any support, and it’s not like nobody knew we were… well… and then off you go, you and my bloody brother and Hermione,” she passed the DA, gathering around Neville and Luna, claiming a carriage in the middle of the train.  They waved to her, but she pretended not to see them.  “Well, let’s see how this goes, will we?”

There was a hush and she found herself blocked by people as a space opened up and the seventh year Slytherins swept through, already in their robes.  To her mild surprise, it was Blaise Zabini who was leading them confidently, his arm firmly round Daphne Greengrass.  The couple were flanked by Pansy Parkinson at Daphne’s shoulder and Draco Malfoy at Blaise’s – the latter looked her over speculatively and smirked.  A Head Boy badge glittered on his robes, and Ginny felt sick at the thought that despite everything he’d done, his life was continuing as he’d always expected.  Crabbe and Goyle were close behind, as always, looking even bigger and more menacing than they had before the summer.  Several steps behind them all, watching them thoughtfully as he followed them onto the train, was Theodore Nott.

Once the crowd started moving again, Ginny pushed her way to the end of the platform and selected the door nearest the engine.  She slipped into the first empty compartment she could find, sighing with relief at having it to herself.

Doors slammed up and down the carriages, and people shouted and waved.  Just as the train started to move, the door opened again and, to her dismay, Theo Nott swept in, dropped into the seat opposite her, and stared silently out of the window. Ginny watched him anxiously for a few seconds until he glanced up and met her eyes.  His lips twisted into a smirk and he slowly and deliberately unbuttoned his left cuff and pulled up his robe and shirt sleeves to display an unmarked forearm.  Ginny blushed slightly at being seen to be so transparent, however pulled herself together enough to meet his eyes and nod coolly.  When he didn’t seem inclined to either move or speak, she returned to gazing out of the window.  The journey to Hogwarts passed in silence, until they were pulling into Hogsmeade.  

Then Theo got to his feet, executed a sweeping formal bow and said, “Thank you for your company, Miss Weasley.”

There was a distinct lack of crowds when Ginny made it off the train.  A handful of first years disappeared with Hagrid, while a much reduced school approached the nearby coaches.  Luna slipped a hand through her arm and squeezed it, pulling her into a coach behind Neville and Seamus.

“Ginny!  I thought you’d disappeared with - Ow!” Seamus exclaimed, rubbing his shin.  “What’d you do that for?” he demanded.  

Neville gave him an irritated glare.  “We didn’t see you on the train,” he remarked, ignoring Seamus. 

Ginny shrugged. “I didn’t feel much like talking,” she said shortly. “I thought I’d have a compartment to myself, but Theo Nott turned up.  He didn’t seem to have anything to say either though, so it was very peaceful.”

“Theo Nott?” Neville asked in surprise, at the same time as Seamus muttered,

“Fucking Death Eater scum,” under his breath. 

Ginny shrugged.  “He’s not a Death Eater,” she corrected.  Both boys scoffed.

“Yet,” Neville said darkly.

“Light always removes darkness, but darkness rarely defeats light,” Luna observed, putting an end to the conversation as the boys exchanged glances of mingled concern and irritation.

Four carriages behind, a similar discussion was taking place among the returning Slytherin seventh years.

“Where did you disappear to on the train?” Blaise Zabini demanded of Theo.  

Theo smirked.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Obviously, or I wouldn’t have fucking asked,” Blaise replied shortly. Theo arched an eyebrow at the tone.  It had become evident that morning that the dynamic in Slytherin had shifted since the previous year.  Blaise was clearly in charge, which was new.  He was, Theo thought generously, doing quite well.  He’d only caught two nervous glances from Blaise to Draco when they’d forgathered at King’s Cross, and then Blaise had pulled himself together and stepped forward like he just expected them all to follow him.  It was a very Malfoy-esque performance.  Daphne was clearly enjoying her promotion to Slytherin Royalty on her boyfriend’s arm, Pansy less impressed at her own demotion.  Draco, most bizarrely of all in Theo’s opinion, had stood back and let Blaise lead, falling in behind like the minion he had never been.  Clearly at some point, Theo reflected, he’d missed a pissing contest. Equally clearly, Draco had lost.

Pansy rolled her eyes at Blaise’s question.  “He’s not going to tell you,” she said, sounding bored.  “It’s Theo. He’s like a walking fucking Gringott’s vault.”  

Theo nodded at her.  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, sounding amused.

“Not many first years, are there?” Daphne said as the road swung round and overlooked the lake.  The rest looked out at the five boats heading across the still water and did a rapid headcount.

“Eighteen,” Blaise said, after a moment.  There was an uncomfortable silence.

It wasn’t until they reached the Great Hall that the full extent of the war on Hogwarts became visible.  Ginny took a seat about half way down the Gryffindor table, opposite Neville and Seamus.  Lavender Brown slipped in beside her and Demelza Robins came in with Romilda Vane just behind, sitting with the boys.

“Is this it?” Neville asked in surprise.  They all looked around.  The Gryffindor table only seemed to contain about a third of it’s usual number of students, as did the Hufflepuff table. The Ravenclaw table was about half full.

“This is all the Gryffindor seniors I reckon,” Seamus said.  “I mean, those 3 are off being heroes, Dean’s on the run,”

“Parvati has transferred to Beauxbatons,” Lavender said sadly.

“Colin and Dennis won’t be allowed back either,” Ginny said, feeling guilty that she had not, until that moment, registered that her friend was missing.  “The other boys don’t seem to be here either.”

“Shh!” Neville said, gesturing with his head towards the High Table.  Professor Snape had risen to his feet and there was a scuffle outside that suggested that the new first years were on their way in.  Ginny found her gaze drawn to the Slytherin table, where Theo was not watching either the new students or the Headmaster.  He was staring directly at her and, as her eyes met his, his lips twitched in a small smile.  Instinctively, Ginny did the same, then looked back at the sorting.

~

When Theo arrived for breakfast on the first morning of term, only one table was full.  The other three contained a few scattered students at each, huddled together and talking in low voices.  Theo exchanged greetings with several people, dropped into a seat beside Blaise and poured himself a coffee, collecting a copy of the Seventh Year timetable at the same time.

“Shit morning,” Blaise said idly.  Theo agreed.  Transfiguration followed by History of Magic sounded like a good way to fall asleep.  He looked around the hall, noting that Ginny Weasley didn’t appear to be present at breakfast.  The previous day, on the train, she’d seemed almost as fed up at returning to Hogwarts as he was.  In addition, there were more than a few rumours circulating over the whereabouts of her bother and friends, and a great deal of speculation that she knew all about it.  As Greg and Vince arrived, sleeves rolled up and Dark Marks  prominently on display, he caught Draco sighing in irritation further down the table.

“Put them away, for fuck’s sake, it’s breakfast time,” he complained.  The other two exchanged glances, confused.  “Fucking subtlety!” Draco persisted.  “Salazar’s tits, it’s not a fucking banner, you arseholes!” Theo suppressed a smile - after all, he and Draco were no longer friends, by Draco’s choice, and therefore it would have been awkward to appear to be amused by him -  drained his mug, collected a stack of toast, and left, nodding to Blaise as he did so.  On his way past the Gryffindor table, he subtly summoned a sixth year timetable, which he stuffed into his pocket.

A brief search found Ginny seated in a broad windowsill in a quiet courtyard near the back of the castle.  A statue in the middle depicted a wizard, nameless and faceless with time, holding one hand aloft triumphantly.  It looked like he’d once had a wand in it.  Theo approached Ginny quietly and placed the toast and timetable beside her.  She turned, looked at him, and then returned her attention to the forbidden forest.

“It’s not poisoned,” he commented after a moment, taking a slice himself as proof.  She snorted.

“Like I’d believe you.”  He shrugged.

“Please yourself.”

“Why are you here?” Ginny asked, picking up a slice of toast and nibbling the edge.  Theo shrugged.

“Impulsive decision.”

“Was it an impulsive decision that put you in my carriage on the train yesterday?”

“Yep.”

“Is that the only kind you make?”

“I’m trying them out to see how it goes.  Need to do something to liven things up, after all.”

“A war isn’t enough excitement for you, Nott?”

“I’m not involved.”

Ginny turned at this and looked at him with disbelief.  “Your father is literally in prison for being a Death Eater, Nott.  Your friend kicked off the whole thing by murdering our previous Headmaster.  How can you say you’re not involved?”

“He is,” Theo replied thoughtfully.  “And a lovely thing it is too, but I’m not in prison.  And Malfoy is, apparently, no longer my friend.”

”Regardless.  Do you really think you can get through this whole thing by standing back and telling people you’re not involved?  Either you stand with people like your Father and Malfoy, or you don’t.  It’s not difficult.  Eventually, everyone is going to have to choose a side, Nott.  Including you.  And whether you like it or not, your very name - and your house - puts you on the opposite one from me.  Thanks for the toast and the timetable.”  She stormed out, leaving Theo alone with the statue. He stared at it for a long minute.

“What do you think?” he asked it, eventually.  The statue, as expected, did not reply.  “Is she right?  And if she is, what side do I pick?”

~

Classes started and, in the bustle and business of a new school term, Ginny almost forgot about Theo Nott.  She saw him from time to time in the corridors, generally with the other Seventh Year Slytherins and looking comfortable in a way that no one not currently wearing a green tie did.  She’d made sure to attend breakfast each morning, to avoid any further ambushes with toast and was hopeful that the strange connection they’d had at the start of term was over.  

It was almost two weeks later when she felt someone brush against her outside her transfiguration class.  It was nearly an hour after that before she put her hand into the pocket of her robe and found a small piece of parchment.

I’ve decided.  Balcony on the Charms Corridor, 9PM, Monday night. Come alone.

It was Monday.  Ginny considered the note while she ate dinner, and while she worked on a charms essay afterwards.  When the clock in the common room showed quarter to nine, she got up and packed up her work.

“I need some air,” she announced to the room at large.  There were immediate concerned looks.

“Do you want someone to come with you?” Neville asked.  She shook her head.

“I’ll be fine.  I’ll go disillusioned and I’m not going outside.”

“Harry would kick our arses for this,” Seamus said warningly.  Ginny hesitated and turned back to him.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Seamus, but Harry is not here and has no say over what I, you, or anyone else does.  Especially me.  Not any more,” she said, a note of anger creeping into her tone.  Before anyone else could raise an objection, she cast a disillusionment charm and disappeared out of the portrait hole.

The balcony on the charms corridor was almost invisible, hidden behind a floor length curtain and when Ginny pushed back the curtain and slipped outside Theo was already there, leaning on the railing and smoking a cigarette.  He looked up when the curtain moved.

“Weasley,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed on a point two feet to her left.  Ginny dropped the charm.

“Nott,” she replied, enjoying the moment of confusion as he located her actual position and spotted the wand that she had trained on him.  “I thought it must be you.  What do you want?”

“You don’t believe I just wanted the pleasure of your company?”

“I’m a blood-traitor Gryffindor with links to Harry Potter, and you’re the Slytherin son of one of You-Know-Who’s highest ranking Death Eaters,” Ginny stated plainly.  “No, I don’t believe you wanted the pleasure of my company.”  Theo scowled.

“I’m not a Death Eater,” he argued.  “I told you that before.  Showed you, in fact.” Ginny shrugged.

“So you keep saying.  I’m not a member of the Order of the Phoenix, doesn’t mean I’m not linked to it.  We are what our parents are, Nott, haven’t you grasped that yet?  Isn’t that the entire purpose of this damn war?  Now, what do you want?  What have you decided?”

“I am not my father!” he sounded angry, and Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“Let me make this easy,” she said, sounding bored.  “No, I don’t know where Harry is.  No, I don’t know where Hermione is.  No, I don’t know where anyone else is either.  Except Ron, of course.  He’s at home with Spattergroit.”

Theo rolled his eyes, the anger seemingly back under control.  “Bullshit.  He’s wherever Potter and Granger are. I’m not an idiot, Weasley.  And I don’t know how many times I need to tell you, I don’t actually give a fuck what you do or don’t know.  I got you here for a warning.  We had Defence against the Dark Arts this morning.  There aren’t any Gryffindors in the class.  Professor Carrow is teaching us to cast Unforgiveables.  He’s promised that he’ll find us test subjects, and I heard him tell Malfoy that there would be plenty of opportunities to practice his skills while supervising detention.  You need to warn your kids to stay out of detention if they can.  No cheek, no back talk, no Gryffindor stupidity.”  

Ginny let her wand tip fall as she stared at him in horror.  “You’re going to crucio the kids?” she asked weakly.  

Theo stared back at her miserably.  “There’s nothing we can do,” he replied.  

Ginny ran a hand over her face.  “There must be.  Refuse!  They can’t force you!”

Theo’s expression morphed into one of disbelief.  “I thought you were smarter than that, Weasley.  If I refuse, someone else will just step up.  And I’ll get myself tortured into the bargain.  Also, it’s not just the Cruciatus.  They literally can force me, remember?  Just… warn them.  And I’ll do what I can.”

“I’ll try,” Ginny said doubtfully.  “And… Nott?  When you said you’d decided?  In your note, I mean.”

“You said I had to pick a side,” he said grimly.  “On the first morning of term, remember?”  She nodded slowly, and he spread his hands out at his sides.  “Well, here I am.  All yours.”

“You picked… our side?” Ginny asked, frowning.  

He shrugged.  “In my considerable experience of such things, whatever side my Father is on, I don’t want to be there.  Consider me your Slytherin insider.”

“You’re going to… spy?”  Ginny began to wonder if this was actually real.

Theo lit another cigarette.  “Is that not what I just did?” he asked.  “I always fancied being a spy.  It’s sexy.  And I’ll be damn good at it, if I do say so myself.”

“So you’ll keep me up to date with anything else you hear?”  

Theo nodded.  “I’ll be here every night about this time.  I always am.  Come along a few times a week.  I’ll let you know if there’s anything more urgent.”  Ginny nodded and disillusioned herself again in preparation for slipping away.  “And Weasley?” Theo said as she moved the curtain.  Ginny looked back at him, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see her.  “Don’t tell anyone what you’re doing.  If you do, I’m out.  If anyone other than you turns up here, I’m out.  If this gets back to Slytherin, I’m not in detention, Weasley, I’m dead.  Got that?”

“Got it.”

~

Neville slammed his hand down on the table when Ginny had finished recounting her information on the upcoming detention protocol.  They were clustered in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, privacy ensured by a carefully placed muffliato.

“Fuck!” he swore.  “We can’t just wait to find out this stuff.  We need a dedicated spy.”  Lavender put a calming hand on his shoulder as Ginny took a deep breath.

“I might be able to help there.  I think I can get more information the way I got this.”

“Where did you find this out tonight?” Seamus asked.  

She shook her head.  “I can’t tell you.”

“Are you shagging your way to information, Ginny Weasley?”  

She scoffed. “Don't be crude and disgusting, Seamus.  I’ve got you the information, I’ll get you more.  I just can’t tell you any more than that.  Trust me, or don’t.  And keep the kids out of detention, and your mind out my sex life.”

Despite their best efforts, the younger Gryffindors lived up to their houses reputation and it became a regular thing for Ginny, Neville, Seamus, or Lavender to administer first aid and healing spells when they finally staggered back to the common room.  Neville and Seamus appeared to be in silent competition to take as many detentions themselves as they could.  Ginny and Lavender exchanged frustrated glances, healed broken ribs and fingers, rubbed Weasley’s Wizard Weezes Bruise Paste into black eyes, and did their best to hold the fading remnants of the DA together as autumn turned to winter and the war rolled on.

And twice a week, Ginny made her way through the dark corridors to the balcony where, without fail, Theo would be waiting.  After the first week, she complained in passing about the smell of his muggle cigarettes.  He dramatically threw the packet into the air and blew it up with his wand. She never saw him smoke again.  By the end of the second week, he’d broken into the Head Boy’s room - seemingly ecstatic at having got one over Malfoy while he did this - and made copies of the next month’s worth of prefect patrol routes and times.  He’d mocked Malfoy mercilessly to her for using the same wards on his study at Hogwarts as he did on his rooms at home, while eating a chocolate frog he’d claimed to have stolen from Malfoy’s desk - wards that, if Theo was to be believed, he’d personally first cracked at age twelve.  Ginny wasn’t sure she believed him, but however he’d obtained the schedules and routes, they were effective.  The number of DA members caught while sneaking out for information and medical supplies dropped dramatically.

~

The Slytherin seventh year dormitory was silent.  Greg and Vince were out, somewhere - Theo neither knew nor cared where.  Blaise had been on prefect patrols, and hadn’t yet come in.  He was late.  Draco was sprawled on his bed, writing in a leather-bound journal, but then, being with Draco now was essentially being alone.  Theo sighed, and glanced briefly at his former friend.  Draco was looking anxiously at his watch.  His eyes flicked to Blaise’s empty bed, and then, just for a second, to Theo.  They both looked away from each other.

Theo gave up his attempts to read, took off his own watch, propped it up on the bedside table, and lay down, watching the hands move.  It was twenty minutes after Blaise should have come in.  Draco had given up writing and was looking at his own watch approximately every twenty seconds.

“He might be with Daphne,” Theo said.  The words sounded loud in the silence, the first thing either of them had said to each other in months.

“Girls’ night for Pansy’s birthday,” Draco said, briefly.  “He might have just stopped in the common room.”

“He hates the common room,” Theo replied, eyes still on his watch.  Another five minutes ticked past.  “Right, fuck this,” he muttered, and climbed out of bed.  “I’m going to find him.”  Just as he got to the door, it burst open and Blaise stumbled through it, clutching at his arm and side.  The dark cloth of his robes was wet and sticky with blood.  Theo caught him automatically as he fell forward, Draco already off his bed and casting a levitation spell.  They maneuvered him onto his own bed, and Theo sliced off his robes and school uniform without a second of thought.  They would buy new ones.

Both boys froze at the long gash running across Blaise’s left arm and abdomen.  They could see how he’d moved his arm to shield himself, the pattern of the cuts suggesting that if he hadn’t, the slicing spell would have gone through his ribs.

“Hospital wing,” Draco said urgently.

“No,” Blaise grunted through gritted teeth.  “I came here from the fucking hospital wing.  Just… fucking heal it.”

“We can’t, it’ll scar,” Theo said, even as he started casting healing spells, trying to stem the flow of blood.  Draco fumbled in Blaise’s bedside cabinet and found a pain potion, which he poured down their friend’s throat.

“I don’t give a fuck, Theo,” Blaise gasped.  “Just heal it!”

”I’m trying!” Theo said, desperately.  “Draco…”

Draco pushed him aside, bending over the injury.  “It’s getting there,” he said, with relief in his tone.  “Blood loss is slowing.  Come on, T.  We can do this.  Together, yeah?”  

Theo gave him a brief glance of disbelief at the childhood nickname, and then nodded.  They cast together, again and again, and finally, the blood flow stopped and Blaise’s skin closed over the long gashes.  They kept casting, and slowly the injury disappeared, until only a thin, pale line showed where it had been.  Then they both collapsed on the end of Blaise’s bed, exhausted.

Blaise traced the thin scar across his chest thoughtfully.  “We match now, Draco,” he managed.  “Want to give Theo one too?  Three musketeers, and all?”

“What the actual fuck happened, Zabini?” It was Draco.  Theo wasn’t sure he even had enough energy left to swear.

“Duelling Finnegan’s gang,” Blaise replied, moving awkwardly to sit up.  “I came across them near the hospital wing… wasn’t supposed to be up there, but I decided to do an extra loop, since Daph was busy tonight anyway.  I dunno what they were doing.”  Theo froze, icy fingers of fear prickling down his spine.  He knew precisely what they had been doing.  Ginny had mentioned only the evening before that they needed more healing supplies.  He rolled off the bed, fished out a blood replenishing potion from his own supply, and threw it to Blaise.  “Thanks,” the other boy said, swallowing the potion.  Some colour returned to his face.

“Who else was there?” Draco asked, his tone colder.  Now that Blaise was no longer bleeding to death in front of them, it was almost possible to see Draco’s mask going back up.

“Brown.  Lovegood.  And the Weasley girl,” Blaise said.  His voice was slurred.  “The girls ran.  Finnegan stopped to fight me.”

“Fuck him,” Draco murmured.  Theo agreed, feeling a sense of relief that Ginny didn’t seem to have been hurt.  Blaise looked from one to the other.

“Thanks, both of you,” he said sincerely.  “I did not want to have to explain that to Pomfrey.”

“Seems we’re still quite the team,” Theo said, forcing himself to sound cheerful.  Draco shot him a withering look, turned his back, and disappeared into his bed, drawing the curtains.  Theo and Blaise were left, staring at each other.  “Or not,” Theo said, feeling unexpectedly disappointed. “Go wash the blood off before you fall asleep,” Theo advised.  “I’ll.. see what I can do here,” he added, looking at the mess of bloodstained robes and sheets on Blaise’s bed.  Blaise nodded.

“Thanks, Theo.”

~

“You sent your fucking room-mate to catch us, Nott!  Fucking Zabini!”  Ginny Weasley was livid.  Beyond livid.  His wand was in her hand, her wand pointed at his face.  She’d had him disarmed before he even realised she was there, and had now been yelling for approximately ten minutes.  She had, at least, put up a silencing spell first.  Theo held up his hands in an effort to stop her hexing him, even as he argued furiously with her.

“I didn’t, Ginny, I swear!  He was bored and decided to do an extra corridor, and Finnegan nearly fucking killed him - thanks for that, by the way!  I really needed to do lifesaving healing on my friend last night! Do you really think, after all these weeks, that I’d send someone after you?  Come on, Ginny!   It was a coincidence!”

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Do you think I am?  For fuck’s sake, Ginny, if I’d turned on  you, I wouldn’t just have sent one fucking person!  More to the point, I wouldn’t have sent the only room-mate I’ve got who isn’t a fucking marked Death Eater!”

“Prove it!”

“Prove it?  How the fuck do I prove what I didn’t do, you insane witch?  And while we’re on the subject, what sort of insanity sent four out of five of your best fighters out together?  What was going to happen if you all got caught - which, by the way, you very nearly did!  Were you just going to leave it all to Longbottom?  Salazar’s tits, Ginny, do any of you fucking think?  You’re it in here, do you not understand that?  You five, you’re… you’re vital.  You can’t all risk yourselves together!”

Ginny was staring at him, open mouthed at this change of direction.  “So… your way of proving that you didn’t betray us is to tell us we’re all doing it wrong?”

Theo, relieved that she’d finally stopped shouting, shrugged.  “A traitor wouldn’t care,” he said.  “I do.  I’m not risking myself for you lot if you’re going to do stupid stunts like that.”

Ginny blinked at him.  “No, a traitor wouldn’t,” she agreed eventually.  “You… you swear it was an accident?”

“I swear,” Theo said, quietly. “Pure coincidence.”

“Bloody unlucky coincidence,” Ginny muttered.  

Theo shrugged.  “Can’t help that.  Bad luck happens.  That’s why you can’t all go out on missions together like that.”

“Was he… What did Seamus do?”

“Slicing hex to the ribs,” Theo replied quietly.  “Blaise got his arm up to block most of it, thankfully.  Nasty gashes and a lot of blood loss, but he’s OK today.  Only the three of us know about it.  You can probably add Daphne to that list, because I doubt she’s going to miss a new scar across her boyfriend’s arm and chest, but that should be as far as it goes.”

“He’s not going to tell anyone?”  Ginny asked in disbelief.

Theo shrugged again.  “That’s not Blaise.  We handled it.  He’s OK.”

Ginny reversed his wand and held it out to him, handle first.  He took it with a small sigh of relief.  “We… we won’t go out like that again,” she said.  “I’ll make sure.  But… you’re not quite right.  Six of us are vital to this resistance now, not five. I’m sorry for not trusting you, Nott.  It won’t happen again.  And I’ll speak to Seamus.  He can’t go trying to kill people for being in the wrong place.” She disillusioned herself as she finished speaking, before he had any chance to respond, and left.

Theo spun his wand between his fingers, and silently wished he hadn’t given up smoking.

~

On the day that the news broke that the incarcerated Death Eaters - including Thoros Nott and Lucius Malfoy - had broken out of Azkaban,  Ginny made an extra trip to the balcony.  Theo wasn’t expecting her and didn’t hear her arrive, leaning on the railing with his shoulders shaking from the force of his emotions.  His hands were bruised and bloody, and looked like he’d spent the day punching walls.  There was a half empty bottle of firewhisky on the railing.  Ginny dropped her charm.

“Nott,” she said softly.  He jumped violently and spun to face her, wand out.  She held up her hands.  “It’s OK.  It’s only me.  I thought… I saw the news and I thought you might need some company.” He lowered his wand and she moved towards him, taking his unresisting hand into both of hers and beginning to assess the damage as she would have for Seamus or Neville.  

“Do you want to talk about it?”  She asked, as he winced when her fingers passed over a particularly painful spot.  

He shrugged sullenly.  “What is there to talk about?”  

Ginny’s wand began to trace over his fingers slowly, the bruises fading and skin re-knitting together as she passed.  “Well, how about whatever made you do this to your hands?” she suggested.  “I saw the paper this morning, same as everyone else.  Is this because they let your dad out of prison?”

“They didn’t let him out, he broke out,” Theo corrected.  “And he’s not my dad.  Dad’s are nice kind people who look after their children and families.  You probably have a dad.  He is, unfortunately, my Father, which is a purely fucking biological relationship.”

“So is this why you’re upset?”  Ginny released his left hand and reached for the more damaged right one.  He inspected the result.

“You’re good at that,” he observed.  She shrugged.

“I get a lot of practice.”

“Yeah, I suppose you probably do.  Longbottom and Finnegan?”

“Among others.  Hang on, this is going to hurt.  I think you’ve dislocated this one.  Are you ready?”  Theo nodded grimly and flinched as Ginny mended his finger.  “Anyway, you’re changing the subject. Tell me why your father breaking out of prison has you punching walls.”

Theo sighed.  “Because if he’s out, my days of remaining unmarked are severely numbered,” he said quietly.  “He was a bloody school friend of the Dark Lord.  He’ll have me promised to serve in a heartbeat and then I won’t  have any choice.  It will be serve or die and fuck, Ginny, I don’t want to die!  This last year, while he’s been locked up - this is what my life could be!  This is what I want my life to be.  I’m making my decisions, and they’re not the ones he’d be making for me.”  Ginny finished working on his right hand and gently released it.

“Do you want a hug?  You look like you need one.”  

Theo blinked at her suspiciously. “A hug?”

Ginny sighed.  “Honestly, Slytherins.  You must all be starved for human contact.  No wonder all the rumours say you do nothing but have sex down there.”  Theo gave a surprised laugh at this as she moved closer and wrapped her arms around him.  “Hug, Theo.  Like this, remember?  You must have done it before.”  At first, he was stiff and still, but as Ginny persisted he slowly brought his hands up to her back and relaxed into her.  She felt him trembling, and tightened her hold.

“It’ll be OK,” she whispered, a while later, when he hadn’t moved.  She felt him shake his head against her and when he raised his face to look at her, it was fear she saw in it, not hatred.  She had a sudden thought.  “Theo - does he hurt you?”  He turned his face away for a moment before he answered.

“Once, I passed out the Floo trying to get to Malfoy Manor,” he admitted quietly.  “Draco found me half out the fireplace, unconscious. That was in the Christmas Holidays of our third year.”  Ginny was horrified, but nodded slowly, her brain already working on this new problem in the same way she had tackled the organisation of Dumbledore’s Army since September.

“OK.  We solve the problem that’s in front of us, then look at what that has created.  Mum always says so.  So we need to think about Christmas.  You can’t stay here, obviously.  Can you go to Malfoy Manor?”  Theo raised a sceptical eyebrow at her.

“Ginny, have you not worked out yet where their headquarters is?  Not to mention the fact that Draco and I haven’t spoken in almost a year - other than the night you lot tried to kill Blaise.” Ginny had a moment of realisation.

“OK, so that’s out.  What about Blaise?”

“Going to Italy for Christmas.  I can’t tag on to that now without telling my father where I am, which is precisely what we’re trying to avoid.”

Ginny frowned.  “Leave it with me.  I’ve got some more ideas,” she said, giving him another hug.  This time, he responded faster, and held her tighter.  “It’ll be OK, Theo, I promise.  If it’s serve or die then you’ll have to serve, I agree.  I don’t want you to die either.  But I do know he’s not going to win this war, and you’re already spying for us.  No matter what any psychopath puts on your arm, you’re on our side.  You know it and I know it, and that’s not going to change.”  

Theo nodded in agreement, seemingly reassured.  “You've never called me Theo before tonight,” he said quietly.  She shrugged.  

“I didn’t realise until I got here tonight that you’re my friend.  I don’t call my friends by their surnames.  And even if you weren’t… you can’t be Nott.  Not tonight.”

“Not Nott,” Theo grinned weakly.  “Thanks, Ginny.  You’ve helped.”  

“Good,” Ginny got to her feet.  “Now, go and get some sleep, and sober up.  I’ll send some owls in the morning and let you know what response I get, OK?  I know people who can fix just about anything.”

She waited until he nodded in agreement, then cast her charm and vanished from sight.

~

Their dorm was quiet when Theo got back.  Draco was lying on his bed, drinking firewhisky straight out the bottle.  Blaise seemed to be asleep.  Theo, stumbling in, met Draco’s eyes, lifted his own bottle slightly in acknowledgment, and drank.  Draco, surprisingly, did the same.  Fueled by this unusual show of camaraderie, and by firewhisky, Theo spoke.

“They’re out then,” he said.  Draco nodded.  “Fucking shit,” Theo continued.  Draco just sighed.  “Maybe not for you,” Theo allowed.  “But it’s shit for me.  I’m going to bed.” There was still no answer, and he pulled the curtains round his bed and collapsed back onto it with a groan.  His mind was spinning, desperately trying to process the prison breakout, Ginny, the overwhelming anger that he’d felt all day, Ginny, Draco’s silence, and Ginny.

He could still feel the warmth of her hands against his cold fingers.  Could still feel her magic seeping into his skin and bones as she healed him.  When she’d pulled him into a hug, the sheer force of emotion had threatened to overwhelm him.  The scent of her hair, pressed against his face had snapped him out of it within seconds, but was now all that he could smell.  His fingers flexed, wishing they were still buried in her robes.  He closed his eyes, and was back on the balcony, seeing the look of care and concern in her eyes as she promised to fix things.

He started to drift off, and was back in the moment where she’d hugged him for the second time.  In his half asleep state, he pulled back from dream Ginny, who had just called him Theo, and kissed her passionately.  He groaned slightly as he did so, and then was jerked back to full wakefulness by the blue flash of a silencing spell hitting his curtains, and Draco’s voice snapping the charm.  He grinned, embarrassed despite himself at being caught, and wriggled out of his uniform before climbing into bed properly.

“Time to accept it, Theodore,” he said out loud to himself, taking advantage of the silencing spell.  “You are fucking head over heels for Ginny Weasley.  Honestly, can you never do things the easy way?”

2^nd November 1997

HG: Ron’s gone.  He just… left.

DM: Well, that should make things a bit more pleasant for you.

HG: Don’t, Malfoy.  There were extenuating circumstances.

DM: Aren’t there always, when people do things they shouldn’t?  It’s not an excuse.  Trust me, I know about extenuating circumstances and shitty choices.

HG: I suppose not.

DM: I’m sorry you’re upset, which I presume you are, but he’s an idiot and a fool.  Why did he go?

HG: Said he was tired of being hungry and cold and of Harry not knowing what to do.  Then he said some really shitty things about Harry’s parents.

DM: And they call me a spoiled brat.

HG: You are a spoiled brat.

DM: And yet I can still put up with this shit because I need to.  It would be way easier to chuck it, you realise that?

HG: I do.  But your information is helping.  You’re saving people.

DM: And therefore I haven’t chucked it, no matter how shit it gets.  Ergo, regardless of how shit a person I may be, I am a better one than Weasley.  Though let’s be honest, we knew that already.

HG: Nice use of ‘ergo’.

DM: I thought you’d appreciate it.  You won’t be getting much intelligent conversation stuck wherever-you-are with Potter and Weasley.  With just Potter now, I suppose.

HG: Draco Malfoy, doing something that he thought I would appreciate.  What is the world coming to?

DM: Piss off, Hermione.

Chapter Text

Fred, George,

I need a favour.  Is that studio flat at the top of your shop still free?  I know you talked about renting it out, but I presume you haven’t yet.  Can my friend have it for the Christmas holidays?  It won’t be safe for them to go home, and there’s no way they can come to us at the Burrow without provoking an international incident.  I’m sure they’ll insist on paying you some rent for it.

Let me know, you’ll be my favourite big brothers if you agree,

Ginny

Gin,

The fact that we are not already your favourite big brothers filled us both with deep gloom and depression, as well as a burning desire to establish who has beaten us to the position so that we can punch them in the face.  After much consideration, we reckon it must be Charlie.  If it’s any of the others, we are beyond offended.

However, that question was quickly overtaken by outright curiosity about this mystery ‘friend’.  We are assuming that your friend is male, given that you have not specified.  If he can’t come to the Burrow, is it also safe to assume that he may not see eye to eye with some of our beliefs?

What we’re asking, Gin, is if we’re going to be hosting a Death Eater? And why?

F&G

George, Fred,

Honestly, what do you take me for?  No, he’s not a bloody Death Eater.  Don’t be bigger idiots than you can help.  I’ll be blunt, since that might actually be understood by your tiny little brains.  If he goes home, he’ll be marked, and he doesn’t want to be.  He’s not a bad person, just a Slytherin with an unfortunate family.  He’s been helping us (the DA) loads this year with information, prefect patrol schedules, etc. Can you help me or can’t you?

Love you both,

Ginny.

P.S. Charlie?  Don’t be ridiculous.  It’s Percy, obviously.

Gin,

Consider it done.  Was it ever in doubt? Payment is declaring us number one, please, by return owl.

G&F

F, G,

You’re idiots.  I love you.  Thank you. And you’re top by miles.  Always have been.

Gin

~

“I’ve got detention,” Ginny said quietly, one evening in the middle of December.  As the weeks passed, she found herself spending more and more evenings on the balcony with Theo.  When they didn’t have to discuss the war, or the school, they talked about anything else that entered their heads. “Tomorrow.  Fucking Carrow caught me out after curfew last night when I left here.  Only days left to the damn holidays. I thought I was going to make it.”

“Fuck,” Theo said, thumping his forehead onto his fist.  “OK.  It’ll be OK.  None of them are very good yet.  It’ll hurt, I won’t lie, but it should be bearable.  And when it’s me… fuck.  Ginny, when it’s me, scream like you never have before.  Please.  I’ll try and make sure it’s me and not Draco.  But you have to scream.  Understand?” Ginny nodded, and reached out to squeeze his fingers.

“I forgive you,” she said softly.  Theo huffed a laugh.

”For torturing you?”

“For doing what you have to do to survive.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ginny shrugged.  “The hurt will be temporary.  This,” she held up their still joined hands, “This isn’t temporary, Theo.  You’re one of my best friends now.  Do what you need to do. We’ll survive it.”

Theo considered kissing her.  He decided not to.  They didn’t need the complication.

~

The following evening, Ginny stood motionless in the unused classroom in the dungeons, staring at the row of seventh years facing her with their wands in hand.  Professor Carrow stood to one side, and Theo was lounging against the wall at the back, beside Malfoy.  The two boys appeared to be ignoring each other, and her.

“So,” Professor Carrow drawled.  “Miss Weasley.  Your detention task is to help my seventh years with their spell casting.  All you are required to do is stand there.  Hopefully that is within your powers?”  Ginny continued to stare straight ahead.

“Miss Weasley, answer me please.” Ginny ignored him.  “Miss Greengrass, please have Miss Weasley answer me.”  There was a small gasp from the end of the row in front of her and Ginny heard a quiet voice say,

“Imperio,” before her mind went blank.

“Answer the professor,” said Daphne Greengrass’ voice inside her head.  Ginny struggled to resist.  “Answer the professor, Weasley!”  Ginny felt her mouth open despite her efforts.

“Yes, sir,” she heard herself say, and then the spell was dropped.  She flickered her eyes to the end of the line where Daphne was bent double, gasping for breath.  Professor Carrow spoke again.

“Thank you, Miss Weasley.  Miss Greengrass, excellent casting.  A big improvement.  You may go.”  Daphne stumbled out the door, still breathing heavily.  Malfoy stepped forward and whispered something to Goyle, and they both sniggered.  “Miss Parkinson, your turn.  Show Miss Weasley what happens to pupils in this castle who don’t behave themselves.”  Ginny braced herself, fixed her eyes on the wall above Theo’s head, and waited for the pain.

Pansy spent ten minutes casting, with minimal effect.  Ginny managed to stay on her feet, gritted her teeth and kept her gaze fixed in place.  Professor Carrow used the time as a teaching opportunity, correcting Pansy’s stance and pronunciation in between tries.  At the end of the ten minutes, Pansy was dismissed to the back of the room and Goyle came forward.  His spell was stronger and this time she cried out in pain, doubling over.  Goyle was dismissed after another ten minutes, and Crabbe was called next.  Again, his spell was stronger and Ginny dropped to her knees this time, crying out as the tremors ran through her muscles. After the prescribed ten minutes, Professor Carrow stopped things again.  Ginny gasped for breath and used the sleeve of her robe to wipe her face.

“Well, thank you for your attempts, everyone.  You are improving, certainly.  Now, which of my star students will show everyone how it’s supposed to be done?”  There was a pause, and then Ginny saw Theo peel himself off the wall and step forward languidly. He was the perfect image of a pure-blood heir, and nothing like the boy she’d been meeting on the balcony for the past four months.  She suddenly felt scared as she pushed herself back to her feet and stood facing him.

“I’ll take this one,” he said, sounding bored.

“Mister Nott, thank you.  Please demonstrate the correct casting position.  Observe, please, Mister Goyle, the placement of the feet…” Ginny stopped listening as, for the first time since they’d entered the room, Theo met her gaze and, just for a second, the mask lifted and she saw him.

“Scream,” he mouthed.  She blinked twice, hoping to confirm that she understood.  Theo glanced over his shoulder. “Ready?” he asked.  The professor nodded.

“Whenever you are, Nott.”  Theo turned back to Ginny and raised his wand.

“Crucio!”

Theo’s spell hit her hard, and, as promised, she screamed.  She couldn’t help it.  The pain was worse than any of the others and her mind went blank as all of her muscles spasmed.  She fell to her knees, and then collapsed on her side on the floor, pulling her knees in and cringing away from Theo’s wand. It seemed ages before Professor Carrow was satisfied and declared the lesson closed, ushering the students out and leaving Ginny lying on the classroom floor in the dark, trembling and crying.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, sobbing and groaning from the frequent pains wracking her body, until the door creaked open again.

“Ginny?”  She managed a soft moan in response, and felt someone land on the floor beside her, so quickly that they skidded along the stone and bumped into her side.   Strong arms were round her and pulling her up to lean against the someone - Theo, she rapidly realised.  The comforting smell of his aftershave surrounded her even as he wrapped her in his robes for warmth.  “Are you OK?  I’m so sorry.  I tried to keep it down.”

“It’s OK,” she managed.  “It wasn’t so bad.”  She groaned again.

“Shh,” he said, and she felt a hand stroking her hair back from her face, and then a soft, cool cloth drying her cheeks.  “Here - pain potion.”  She heard him spit the stopper across the room as a vial bumped against her lips and she tipped her head back slightly to allow him to pour it into her mouth.  Another muscle spasm wracked her and she whimpered involuntarily, feeling Theo pull her tighter against him as she did so.

“It helps sometimes to be held tightly,” he said softly.  “Or wrapped tightly, but I didn’t think I could sneak out the common room with a blanket.  Another hour or so and the worst should be over, I think.  I’m so sorry, Ginny.”  She wriggled a hand free to clutch at his and squeeze his fingers.

“I told you, I forgive you,” she whispered.

For Ginny, the hour seemed endless, lying on the stone floor wrapped in Theo’s arms, struggling through one muscle spasm after another.  Theo held her tightly, stroked her hair, and gave her sips of water frequently.  Eventually, the spasms lessened to the point where she sat up, pushing her hair out her face.  The loss of Theo’s arms made her feel cold and alone, and for one insane moment she considered lying back down.

“I think I can just about cope now,” she said slowly.

“I’m going to carry you back to your tower.”

“You can’t!” Ginny protested weakly, even as Theo swung her up into his arms.  “Someone will see us!”

“It’s nearly two in the morning, Ginny, even the ghosts are asleep.  You’ve been tortured.  I am not letting you climb or crawl your way to Gryffindor Tower, and you can’t stay here.  Bad things happen to people who are still here in the morning, trust me.  Come on.”  Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he slowly but determinedly began the climb from the dungeons to the foot of Gryffindor Tower, where he put her down in front of the portrait.

“Hogwarts has absolutely too many stairs,” he panted, leaning against the wall to get his breath back. “And the idiot Gryffindors, of course, live right at the bloody top.  Can you make it from here?”  She nodded.

“Neville will be inside.  He won’t have gone to bed when I didn’t come back.”

“Good.”  Theo hesitated, and after a second Ginny turned and threw her arms around him.  He returned the hug awkwardly but tightly.

“Thanks for tonight.  You did everything you could to spare me and I really do appreciate it.”

“I wish I could have done more.  I’d have taken those curses for you, but even I couldn’t work out a way to do that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Goodnight, Theo.”  She kissed him quickly on the cheek, deciding against anything more, and climbed stiffly through the portrait hole.  Theo remained in the corridor, his fingers raised to his cheek.

20^th December 1997

On the way home for Christmas, Ginny passed the compartment where Theo was sitting with the other Slytherin Seventh Years.  Their eyes met briefly, but neither acknowledged the other and Ginny moved on to take her seat with Neville, Luna and Seamus.  She’d already passed Theo the key to the tiny flat at the top of Fred and George’s building, and given him instructions on how to get in.  Her brothers, seeking plausible deniability, had agreed to avoid the back staircase that evening.  It was the best plan she could think of.

They were almost home when it happened.  The train slowed suddenly, then with a great screech of brakes stopped dead.  The lights went out.  There was a scuffle as the other three ended up in a heap on the floor, and the door opened and closed again.  Ginny felt a hand close around her arm and almost screamed until a voice said in her ear,

“Shut up, it’s me,” and the trickle of a strong disillusionment rolled over her.  “Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle went out just before the train slowed,” Theo’s voice continued in an urgent undertone.  “I don’t know what this is, but it’s not good.  Stay hidden.  They’ll want you.”  The others lit their wands, enough to let them see that Seamus was at the door now, shouting into the corridor, and Neville had a hand on Luna’s shoulder.

“You OK, Gin?” he asked into the dimness.

“Fine,” Ginny replied.  “Just disillusioned.”  Neville nodded approvingly.

“Good idea,” he began, doing the same to himself just as a spell blasted Seamus backwards into the compartment and a masked and robed Death Eater followed.  Seamus hit the wall and slumped to the floor.  Ginny was pulled back into the corner furthest from the door, feeling the warmth of the disillusioned Theo behind her, his arm tight around her waist, her back pressed against his chest. She began firing spells at the intruder, Theo aiming his wand over her shoulder to help.  From the opposite side, Neville was doing the same, but a shield appeared in front of the robed figure, being held by someone else.  The figure didn’t seem interested in duelling, but instead rapidly petrified Neville, shot a stunner at Ginny that missed and, she suspected from the grunt, hit Theo, and grabbed Luna’s wrist.  It was like a signal.  Immediately, the figure apparated, taking Luna with it, and a series of echoing cracks sounded up and down the train.  The entire process, Ginny realised, had taken less than five minutes.

She sat up, casting finite on Neville first to cancel both the disillusionment and the petrification.  She followed it up with another on Theo, who Neville blinked at in confusion.

“Where the fuck did he come from?  Where’s Luna?  Did you do this?” he asked Theo directly, pointing his wand at him.  Ginny reached out and pushed it away impatiently.

“Yeah, you’re fucking welcome, Longbottom,” Theo snapped back.  “If I hadn’t been here, they’d have taken Ginny as well as Luna, idiot.”  

“They took Luna, Neville!” Ginny  repeated Theo’s words.  “I think that’s a bit more important than who is helping us fight them off, don’t you?” Neville’s eyes narrowed as he rapidly put things together.

“He’s your spy?” he asked Ginny in disbelief.  “Nott?  Are you out of your fucking mind, Ginny?”  Ginny rose to her feet, the emotion and excitement of the last few minutes coursing through her on a wave of adrenaline as she pointed her own wand at Neville.

“Tell me one thing - one fucking thing other than the colour of his damn tie - that he’s done to make you not trust him,” she demanded.  “Go on.”  Neville stared back at her in shock.  “I didn’t think you could,” Ginny continued.  “Literally the only thing you have against him is his name and house.  That’s it.  I would have thought that you of all people, Neville, would have known better than to judge people by who their fathers were.  You know what he’s done for us this year.”  Neville turned scarlet at this and Ginny turned back to Theo.

“You should go before they notice you’re gone.  Thank you for trying.  Fuck, Luna…”  She dropped her head into her hands.  Theo squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

“Hopefully she’ll be OK.  They must want her for something, so they need to….”

“...keep her alive.” Neville finished for him.  The two boys exchanged looks over Ginny’s head.  “You should go, Nott, before you blow your cover.  And I need to revive Seamus.”

“I’ll be OK.  Planning to tell them I went for a piss and missed the whole thing,” Theo said.  “I nipped out as soon as the Masked Trio did, so before anything happened.  It was fun!  I’ll choose the Gryffindor carriage for my Death Eater fighting in future, you can be sure.  See you later!  Don’t worry, Gin.  You can’t help her that way.”  He slipped back out into the corridor, blending in with the crowd.  Ginny considered calling him back and kissing him.  She decided not to, if only for Neville’s sake.

~

Much to Ginny’s surprise, neither Fred nor George showed any interest in the inhabitant of the studio flat above their own during the Christmas holiday.  They were also perfectly happy to tell their mother that Ginny had spent her afternoon with them, helping to sort out Owl Orders, rather than appearing through the Floo and disappearing directly upstairs to entertain Theo.  They even paid her for the hours she hadn’t worked.  Ginny was highly suspicious of this, and mentally filed it to be investigated at a later point.

For his part, while he was finding time pass slowly, Theo had a large stack of books, all of his holiday homework, and remained grateful to Ginny for setting the whole idea up.  Her daily visits were the high point of his holiday.  When she appeared on Christmas Day, carrying a plate of her mother’s Christmas Dinner for him in one hand and dessert in the other, and explaining that as far as anyone knew, she was moping in her room over Harry, Theo found that for the first time he was having murderous, Malfoy-esque thoughts about Potter.

Ginny produced two bottles of butterbeer from her pockets, and curled up on the opposite end of the couch in her accustomed position while he tucked into the meal.

“You know, I’m getting to like this place,” she said, thoughtfully.  Theo, his mouth full of turkey, looked around.  The room was tiny, with a double bed pushed against the back wall, and the sofa they were sitting on opposite it.  Other than these items, there was a coffee table which, with a quick shove, doubled as a bedside table, two cupboards for food, and a rickety chest of drawers, the top of which held all of Theo’s schoolwork.  A door at the foot of the bed led to a tiny shower room.

“I love it,” he admitted.  “I mean, I’d rather be free to come and go, but you know - that’s not the fault of the flat.  I’d a million times rather be in here than at Nott House, terrified that every footstep was the summons for the ceremony.  Would you really have been moping over Potter if you’d been at home just now?”  Ginny sipped her drink thoughtfully and gave this due consideration.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually.  “It’s weird - I loved Harry forever - since before I even went to Hogwarts.  I loved the story, you know?  He was a real life fairy tale hero, and then he was best mates with my actual brother and he was in our actual house, eating breakfast in our actual kitchen, and I got swept away living in a story book.  It only got worse after the whole Chamber of Secrets thing.  I mean… he saved me.  It really was a bloody story book.”  Theo reached over at that and rubbed her ankle comfortingly, it being the only bit of her he could reach.  “Even when I dated other people -” Theo spared a moment from hating Potter to hate them too “- I still wanted to be with Harry.  And then I was.  And for a few weeks it was perfect, and it was everything I’d ever wanted.”  

Theo envisioned a roast potato wearing Potter’s glasses and stabbed his fork into it violently.  “And then?” he prompted, when Ginny gave him a curious look over the potato based violence.

“Then he left me,” she said.  “And it just… I don’t know.  We were supposed to be a team.  I want the person I love to be able to lean on me, as I can lean on them.  I want to be there, helping and supporting and holding him up, not shoved off back to Hogwarts to keep out of trouble while he does Merlin-knows-what .”

“You were - are - underage,” Theo pointed out.  “You still have the Trace.”

“I know.  I keep telling myself that,” Ginny sighed.  “But still… if that’s the reason he’d given me, I could almost have accepted it.  But he didn’t.  He said he didn’t want to put me in danger.  Does he not realise I’m in far more danger at Hogwarts than I would ever have been with him?  I mean, how many times has he nearly died there?  I would have died there, last week, if it hadn’t been for you.  You know Malfoy would have killed me with his Cruciatus in that detention.  He’d probably have got house points for it.”

“I refuse to even consider that,” Theo muttered, putting his empty plate down and looking suddenly pale.  

Ginny gave him a sharp glance, and then moved so that she was leaning against him.  “I’m fine, remember?  You saved me.  I’m OK.”

Theo wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her tightly.  “Sometimes,” he said, slowly, “sometimes we don’t always see the best way out of a situation when we’re in the middle of it.”  Ginny drank some more.

“You thinking about something specific?” she asked.  He shrugged.

“Draco, I guess, since you mentioned him.  I pushed too hard, last year, to try and help him.  I didn’t know what he was doing - the whole Dumbledore thing - but he was my friend, and I wanted to help.  After he stopped talking to me, and broke up with Pansy, and chased off Blaise… I was out of ideas, and I did something stupid.  I think I actually, ultimately, made things worse.  And he’s never spoken to me since - except the night that Blaise got injured.  Then, it was like nothing had every happened.  But as soon as we were done healing him, bam.  He went back to ignoring me.

“So what I’m saying is… if Potter’s done something stupid too, then maybe consider that it was the best he could think of at the time and remember you used to be friends.  Don’t hate him.  He’s trying to save the damn world.  I was only trying to save one crappy pure blood prick who, it turns out, didn’t even want to be saved.”  Ginny laughed at this.

“I know,” she sighed.  “I don’t hate him, not really.  I miss him, and Hermione, and even sodding bloody Ron - but I guess there were some benefits to being at Hogwarts this year.  Do you know, I even made a new friend?”

“Did you?” Theo asked, innocently.  He leaned over the side of the sofa and rummaged in a drawer for two spoons, one of which he tossed to her.  “How about you help him eat this frankly gigantic bowl of dessert you provided, then?”  Ginny, who had over-filled the bowl for precisely this reason, grinned back.

Theo considered kissing her.  He decided not to.

26^th December 1997

HG: Ron’s back.

DM: Go him.

HG: He said it was me who brought him back.

DM: I’m sure it was.  Unless he’s developed a sudden overwhelming desire for Potter.

HG: I don’t know that I like the idea of that.

DM: Weasley fancying Potter or Weasley fancying you?

HG: Me.

DM: Well, I suppose that’s something.  For the record, I don’t like it either.  You’re too good for him.

HG: We got attacked yesterday.

DM: Where?

HG: Godric’s Hollow.  It was the snake.

DM: Fuck.  I knew I hadn’t seen the blasted thing in too long.  Are you OK?

HG: More or less.  We lost Harry’s wand.

DM: Of course he fucking did.  How in Merlin’s name does he expect to defeat the Dark Lord with no wand?

HG: I don’t think he’s really thought about it.

DM: But you have.

HG: Yes.

DM: Scared?

HG: Terrified.

DM: Yeah. Me too.

29^th December 1997

DM: Lovegood’s in our dungeon.  Snatched off the train.  I only just found out, sorry.

HG: Luna.  Yes, her father told us they had her.  Tried to hand us over.

DM: I heard.  You OK?

HG: All fine.

HG: I’m entirely passing over the fact that ‘our dungeon’ is actually something you can write with a straight face.  You know, presumably.  Mostly because it’s horrifying.

DM: Don’t really give a shit about the other two, but good to know.  

DM: It’s not really a dungeon.  Well, it is now, but it used to be a wine cellar.  We’re not talking medieval torture here, Granger.

HG: So you say.  I can absolutely see you presiding over a medieval dungeon.

DM: Much though I’d like to continue this, my presence is required elsewhere.  I’ll do what I can for Lovegood.  Luna.  Do you think you can do a few days now without being attacked?  This is really not good for my nerves, Granger.

HG: That made me laugh.  Ron looks suspicious now - I had to tell him it was something I read.  Well done.

HG: But I’ll do my best.  Thanks.

~

Going back to school in January without Luna was bad.  The members of the DA were spending more and more time inside the Room of Requirement, withdrawing from school life almost entirely.  Now that Neville and Seamus knew who he was, Ginny suggested repeatedly that Theo should join them, and Theo in turn told her repeatedly that he was far more use to them outside, and that unlike the rest of them, he wasn’t in any danger.  The school at large considered him a loyal Slytherin, a member of the establishment - a Death Eater in waiting.  As he pointed out, if he suddenly vanished, he could never re-appear.  His housemates would know immediately that he was a traitor.  Ginny accepted this fact reluctantly while eating one of Malfoy’s chocolate frogs, several of which had been stolen by Theo in his latest break in.  They were sharing them on the balcony.

“They’ll put you lot on these one day,” Theo said, twirling a card between his fingers.  “When you win.”

“When we win,” Ginny corrected automatically.

“Harry Potter, Chosen One.  Hermione Granger, Chosen One’s Brain. Ron Weasley, Chosen One’s Sidekick.  Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, Ginevra Weasley, Resistance Leaders.  They could do a whole set.”  Ginny nodded.

“And Theodore Nott, Spy,” she added.  “Otherwise I’ll have the whole damn thing stopped.” Theo laughed, and decided - again - not to kiss her.  Every time, the decision got harder.

It was the beginning of February when Ginny found a note in her pocket in Theo’s handwriting.

Come tonight, please.

There was nothing else.  She showed it to Neville, who nodded his agreement and, shortly before nine that evening, she slipped down the now familiar walk to the balcony.  Theo was sitting on the floor, wrapped in an enormous woolen cloak which he lifted the edge of to allow her inside.  She sat beside him, puzzled.

“What’s this about?”  There was no answer, just the solid weight of Theo leaning against her. Ginny rested her head on his shoulder.  “Talk to me, Theo.  Why did you bring me here?”  Theo heaved a sigh.

“Seven years ago tonight, my father shoved my mother so hard she fell down the stairs in our house.  She died there, on the floor, in our hallway, and I sat with her all night waiting for it.  She died as the sun rose.  My father was in his study, drinking.  He’d locked the Floo.”  

Ginny fumbled under the cloak to find his hand and squeezed it tightly.  “Oh, Theo.”

“I didn’t want to sit here alone tonight.”

“What do you need?”

“Tell me about your family.”  Ginny nodded, and then pulled out her wand and summoned her patronus. The horse looked at her expectantly.  Theo reached out his free hand towards it, smiling when it passed straight through and the light shone on his palm.

“Go and tell Neville I’m fine, I won’t be back tonight, and if he tries to come and find me I’ll hex his bits off.  And if Seamus is there too tell him I’m still not sleeping with anyone for information, and that if he suggests that I’ll hex his bits off too.”  The horse disappeared, and Theo gave a weak chuckle.

“Can you teach me to do that sometime?”

Ginny nodded.  “I think so.  It’s not so hard.  You need a really happy memory, so maybe just now is not the time.”  The thought of a red haired witch balancing a plate of Christmas Dinner and two bottles of butterbeer popped into Theo’s head immediately.

“I think I should be able to manage that.  Now, given that message, what are the chances of me getting through the night without getting my bits hexed off?” he asked.  Ginny ignored this, and instead, leaned her head back on his shoulder and started talking.  She talked herself almost hoarse, telling Theo at length about her parents, her brothers, their time growing up, The Burrow, their trip to Egypt, the fight with Percy, everything that came into her head.  And Theo listened, entranced.  She even managed to talk about her first year and the time with the diary, during which Theo wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, but still said nothing - though his private thoughts on Lucius Malfoy would not have borne repeating.  Eventually, running out of things to say and wrapped in the warm cloak and Theo’s arms, Ginny dosed off, waking cold and stiff some time later just as the sky was lightening.  She sat up.

“I’m so sorry.  Did I fall asleep?”  Theo nodded, his eyes on the horizon, arms still wrapped around her.

“It’s OK.  You were still here.”

“What do you need?”  Ginny asked quietly.  “I’m here for you, Theo.  Tell me what you need.”  He turned towards her, wriggling until his face was buried in her lap.  Ginny could feel tears soaking through her robe and stroked his hair endlessly.

“It’s OK, Theo.  It’ll be OK, I promise.  We can’t bring your mum back, but mine loves waifs and strays, honestly.  One day, when all this shit is over and done with, I’m going to take you to the Burrow.  And my brothers are all going to tease you rotten, and you’re going to help me do something to embarrass Ron, and my dad’s going to take you to the shed and show you his collection of plugs, and my mum’s going to hug you and never let you go.  You’ll get Christmas jumpers and Easter Eggs and Sunday lunches and you’ll be so bloody sick of the sight of ginger hair.”

“I don’t belong there,” Theo said, his voice muffled by the cloak and her robe. “That’s for Gryffindors.”

Ginny scoffed.  “Rubbish.  You’re the most Gryffindor Slytherin I’ve ever met.  You’re brave, you’re impulsive, you’re reckless… you absolutely belong there.  And like you think you’re getting any choice, after this year, Theo Nott. You’re never getting rid of me.”  Theo tightened his arms around her waist at this and Ginny sat still, watching the sunrise and holding him close.

~

DM: They’re going for another attack on the train on after the Easter Holidays.  Don't send back Weasley.

HG: They’re after Ginny?

DM: Among others.  Longbottom.  Brown.  Finnegan.

HG: I’ll tell them.

DM: Make sure they don’t send her back.  No matter what.  I’m not sure it will be kidnap this time.  It feels like they’re panicking that there is still resistance.

HG: I’d love to see their faces if they knew the resistance was pouring their wine.

DM: I wouldn’t.  There would be several killing curses immediately afterwards, all coming for me.

HG: Oh well.  We should probably avoid that.

DM: Probably?

HG: Goodnight, Draco.

DM: Goodnight Hermione.

6th April 1998

It was the last day of the spring term when their luck ran out and it finally happened - Ginny was in the entrance hall and Theo, with his trunk in tow, had just emerged from the dungeons.  He was heading for the train with the intention of ‘disappearing’ on the way and returning to Neville in the Room of Requirement.  They were both sure that he wouldn’t survive a holiday at home without being marked, and Fred and George had reported that the shop had been destroyed by Death Eaters the month before, so was no longer safe.  Regretfully, the leaders of Dumbledore’s Army had decided to give up the advantage that Theo gave them, and make sure he survived instead.  Ginny, who had been demanding this from all of them - including Theo - for weeks, had a horrible feeling it was all about to go wrong.  When she told Theo this, the night before the end of term on their balcony, he laughed.

“Didn’t realise you went in for that sort of divination shit, Gin.  You’ve been spending too much time with Lavender.  Don’t worry about me.  I’ll be fine, assuming I can cope with being stuck with Longbottom and Finnegan for the rest of this. Shame you’re not coming back.  That would have made it much easier to put up with.”

For the last time, he considered kissing her, and decided not to.

For the last time, she considered kissing him, and decided not to.

Instead, they’d hugged for a long time in silence and when they finally parted to return to their own houses, both were pretending not to cry.

On that last morning, their eyes met briefly across the Entrance Hall, and then a giant hand landed on Theo’s shoulder and Crabbe grinned coldly at him, while his other hand plunged into the pocket of Theo’s robe and pulled out his wand.  Ginny’s heart sank.  Divination bullshit or not, she’d been right.

“Headed home, Nott?  Let’s go then!” Possibly only Ginny saw the brief flash of fear and despair in Theo’s eyes as Goyle grabbed the trunk from his hand and they flanked him, marching him out of the door and towards Hogsmeade.

Ginny herself followed on behind, walking alone.  She had mixed feelings about this - she knew that she wasn’t coming back after the Easter break, based on the information received from Tonks’ spy.  The Weasley’s would be disappearing as soon as she got home, going into hiding like so many others.  Without Luna there with her unfailing optimism, and now with Theo going as well, Ginny found that her own determination was faltering regularly.  She reached the train alone, and for a brief second her eyes met Theo’s where he was still flanked by Crabbe and Goyle in a compartment.  He gave a tiny shake of his head and Ginny’s heart sank even further.

“Hurry up, Weasley,” Malfoy snapped, interrupting the moment.  Ginny tossed her hair as she climbed on to the train.

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” she snapped over her shoulder.  To her surprise, he just sounded tired when he responded.

“Yeah, you too, Weasley.  Ten points from Gryffindor and a detention when the holiday is over.”  Ginny ignored this.  Neither thing seemed relevant anymore.

~

DM: They got Theo.  After all this time, they fucking got him.

HG: Oh shit.  I’m so sorry.

DM: I tried so fucking hard.

HG: From what you’ve told me, it was always likely they’d get to him, either through you or otherwise.  He’s too valuable an asset for them to let wander around unmarked.

DM: Crabbe and Goyle are guarding him.  I presume he’s coming to the manor, and I don’t think I can get him out of it without exposing myself.

HG: Do what you can, and stay alive.

DM: There is one thing I can do, I think.  Wish me luck.  I might be about to blow it all.

HG: Always. Be careful, Draco.

DM: Always.

~

The train thundered on through the dimming afternoon.  Theo hadn’t been left alone for a second - his captors (as it was now becoming increasingly obvious that that was what Crabbe and Goyle were) even accompanying him to the bathroom.  They were nearing the end of the journey when a few things happened in quick succession.  Firstly, a bubble head charm appeared on Theo.  Pansy Parkinson, seated opposite him, opened her mouth to remark on this, and then fell over sideways onto Daphne Greengrass, sound asleep.  Daphne herself fell onto Blaise’s shoulder, and Blaise’s head landed on top of hers.

On one side of him, Theo felt Crabbe tip away towards the window, and on the other Goyle’s head fell forward onto his chest and he began immediately to snore.  There were barely ten seconds between the initial appearance of the bubble-head charm, and the door sliding open.  Theo, never one to pass on an opportunity, dived through it and canceled the charm.  Malfoy regarded him tiredly and handed him a pair of leather bound notebooks.

“She’s in the last carriage, in the first compartment.  Give her one of these - they’re linked, so you can still talk to each other.  I’ll keep them asleep for fifteen minutes, but that’s as long as I can give you, so run. And if you haven’t told her how you feel, for fuck’s sake do it now.”

“Draco?  What the fuck? How did you…”

“Don’t talk, T, run!”  Theo ran.

“Theo!”  Ginny was on her feet as he burst in the door, looking frantic.

“Ginny!  I only have a few minutes.  Draco knocked them all out.  Crabbe and Goyle won’t let me out their sight, Gin.  I don’t know what to do.  I left it too late.  I should have listened to you.  I don’t want them to mark me!”

“Draco?  What the fuck?  And can you run?”

“Not with Crabbe’s hand on my shoulder like it’s been glued there, no.”

“Shit,” Ginny said.  Theo nodded and then took a deep breath and caught her hand.

“Listen, Ginny… I don’t have long.  And before they put that fucking brand on me, I want to tell you something.  This year… Ginny… I have fallen for you so hard.  I don’t expect anything back.  I know you’re probably still waiting for Potter, despite everything.  But I needed you to know how I feel while I’m still me, before I have that fucking evil injected into me.  And you don’t…” He stopped abruptly as Ginny reached up and put her free hand over his mouth.

“Stop talking, you insane man,” she said, tears in her eyes.  “I’ve been madly in love with you for months, you idiot.  I’m not waiting for Harry.  But I am going to wait for you.  And Theo - even if they do mark you, nothing is powerful enough to wipe out the utterly good person that you are.  You have put yourself on the line over and over again for us this year, and I am going to stand in front of the damn Wizengamot when this is over and tell them the same.  But just now, I want you to use every minute we have left snogging me, because frankly I’ve wanted you to do that since about November.  Agreed?”  Theo nodded urgently, beaming behind her hand, and proceeded to obey her implicitly, pressing her against the side of the carriage.  When he finally broke away with a groan, he rested his forehead against hers.

”I don’t have enough time left to shag you against the wall,” he muttered.  “Even if I really, really want to right now.”

“I really want you to,” Ginny replied, laughing softly.  There were tears in her eyes.

“I’ll do it another time,” he promised, kissing her again.  “Don't cry,” Theo begged.  “Really, don’t, beautiful girl.  I can’t walk away if you’re crying, I know I can’t.  And I need to or they’ll come looking and then we’ll both end up dead.  We won’t be apart for long.  I’ll find you - we’ll always find each other, Ginny, I promise.  And here - Draco says we can use these to keep in touch.  No idea how.  We’ll figure it out.  I need to go before my jailers wake up, love.  I don’t want to.  You know I don’t.  I love you.”  Ginny nodded, and hugged him again.

“I love you too.  Be brave, Theo. Come back to me.”  Finding himself unable to speak in reply, Theo  merely nodded and squeezed her hard, before going back out into the corridor.  Draco was still standing outside the compartment on guard.  He politely turned his back until Theo had dried his face,  and then reapplied the bubble-head charm without a word.  Theo paused beside him.

“Thanks,” he said shortly.  Draco merely nodded, and indicated the door.  Theo re-took his seat.  Draco gave him a very brief, sad smile, and moved on, his Head Boy badge glittering against his robes.  Crabbe and Goyle woke up, and the ensuing argument over which of them had fallen asleep first woke Blaise, Pansy and Daphne.  Theo slumped into his seat and ignored them all.  He could still feel Ginny’s lips on his, could still feel the warmth of her hands on his chest, and could definitely still feel the tightness in his trousers that the entire situation had caused.  He sighed, and closed his eyes.

~

TN: Hello?

GW: Hi!  Is that you?

TN: It’s me, love.  Did you get home ok?  Do you know how happy it makes me to be able to call you that?

GW: Fine.  Never mind me.  Where and how are you? Also, I imagine as happy as it makes me to read it.

TN: Malfoy Manor.  Spare bedroom in Draco’s suite, from what I can tell from the view from the windows.  I’ve got my stuff back, including my wand.  There’s a black robe in the wardrobe and a mask in the bedside drawer.  Also… he’s here.  I heard his voice earlier.

GW: Shit.  Lock yourself in and hope he doesn’t realise they have you upstairs until as late as possible?

TN: That’s the plan.

GW: Any idea when they’ll do it?

TN: No.  Just have to wait, I suppose.  In the interim, I intend to amuse myself - repeatedly - with the memory of our ten minutes on the train.

GW: Amuse yourself?  You mean…

TN: You know exactly what I mean, love.

GW: You are a horrible man.

TN: I’m your horrible man now.

GW: You are.  Remember that… you know.  During it.

TN: The mark or the wank?

GW: Theo!

TN: I will, love.  It’s the only thing keeping me going right now.

GW: Have you seen Draco?  Why is he helping you?

TN: No.  No sign of him.  I don’t even know if he is helping me, or if, Draco-style, he’s just doing whatever helps him.  I’ll let you know what happens.

GW: Good luck.  And Theo?  I once told you we were what our parents were.  You’re not, Theo.  You are not your father.  But do what you need to to survive, won’t you?  You promised to come back to me.

TN: I will love.  I promise.

Chapter Text

7th April 1998

Over the years, Theo had been the recipient of many curses, unforgivable and otherwise. The pain of the marking ceremony, however, was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Judging by the intense burning in his arm, the ritual itself was over. His father and Bellatrix were now taking turns to demonstrate their proficiency in unforgivable curses, and the only reprieve from the relentless crucios was the points where they stopped to refresh themselves with wine from the extensive Malfoy cellars, and discuss their progress. They had been doing so for the last few minutes and Theo found that his brain was slowly, slowly able to focus on other things.

At the moment, he found himself dwelling on the time, earlier that evening, when Draco, robed and carrying his mask, had appeared at his bedroom door.

“It’s time.” It was all he’d said, but Theo thought there was something - sorrow, maybe - in the grey eyes that watched him don the robes, collect the silver mask, and he could have sworn that there was a slight tremor in the pale hand held out for his wand. “You’ll want to send a message,” Draco said quietly, once everything was done. “Just in case.” Theo, past caring how much Draco knew about anything - or, indeed, how Draco knew about anything - pulled the journal out from under his bed and picked up a quill from the table.

TN: It’s time, Ginny. I love you. Thank you for everything.

There was nothing else to say. He slammed the book closed before he could see if any response appeared, and stood up. If nothing else, he could face this like the Gryffindor Ginny kept saying he was. He regarded Draco coolly, blue eyes meeting grey, and to his surprise Draco looked away first. Theo stepped forward.

“I’m ready,” he said calmly. He felt Draco’s hand on his shoulder as he escorted him to the Ballroom.

”I’m so sorry, mate,” the words were barely more than a breath, but Theo heard them in the split second before he was pushed into the centre of the circle of Death Eaters and forced to his knees. He felt Draco retreat, and looked up. For a moment, the sight of his Father almost caused him to collapse, to beg for mercy, but he filled his mind with soft red hair, with laughing brown eyes, with strong arms that wrapped around him and held him while he fell apart, and he remained kneeling tall.

“Hello, Father,” he said calmly. His father raised his wand, and Theo, at the last second, closed his eyes. Then the pain came.

~

Opening his eyes now was too hard, but his other senses still worked. He could hear the drunken voices above him somewhere, the laughter and the clink of glasses. His clothes were wet and cold against his skin, and he was confused for a moment until his nose caught the sharp scent of urine mixed with the metallic tang of blood and he was embarrassed at this evidence that his body had betrayed him. His thoughts were surprisingly clear, however, and as soon as this occurred to him he paused, wondering.

“Draco?” he thought, as clearly as he could. There was the impression of a smirk.

“Hang in there, mate. They’ll pass out soon.” The words appeared in his brain without passing his ears. What his ears did pick up was the sound of high heels circling him. Despite himself, he cringed away from the sound. There was laughter, and a high, cruel voice saying Crucio! Theo lost consciousness again.

8th April 1998

There had been no reply in the journal for over twenty four hours. Ginny, clutching it tightly, was pacing the halls of the safe house and consider just leaving. It wasn’t too far from Devon to Wiltshire, after all. She indulged in a brief fantasy where she broke into Malfoy Manor, dueled several Death Eaters single handedly, culminating in knocking out Malfoy, and escaped with Theo on her broom. Then, as the clock struck, she opened the journal and sent her 6th message.

GW: Please tell me you survived, love. I don’t care about the mark, I just want to know you’re OK.

She slipped behind a thick, floor length pair of curtains and seated herself on a broad window ledge, leaning her forehead against the cool glass.

“Please be OK,” she begged. She wasn’t even aware of the footsteps until they halted and a voice said cheerily,

“Talking to yourself, Gin? Sign of madness, that.”

Ginny sighed. “Piss off, Fred.” Fred ignored this, and seated himself at the other end of the window, arranging the curtains so that neither of them could be seen.

“What’s up, sis? Worrying about Harry?” Ginny shook her head. “Then who do you want to be OK?” Fred’s unfailing cheerfulness was grating on her last nerve. Ginny closed her eyes. “Wait - is this about your not-a-Death-Eater?” At the words, Ginny’s eyes snapped back open.

“He’s not a joke,” she hissed, furiously. “They took him, Fred. He’s done nothing but try to help us any way he could, and stay out of trouble, and they took him and they’re marking him and probably torturing him because he said his father was there and he’s a sadistic bastard who hurts him all the time and judging by the last message he sent me, he didn’t even think he was going to survive it.” Fred’s grin faded.

“Shit,” he said weakly.

“I’ve sent six messages,” Ginny continued, shaking her journal at him furiously. “One every four hours. And I’m getting nothing back. I love him, Fred. I really love him, and I don’t know if he’s alive or dead or anything.” She collapsed back into the wall, hugging the journal to her chest. Fred’s arms wrapped round her, and she felt his lips move where they were pressed against her hair.

“He’ll be OK, Gin. Did you know he gave us the money to pay you, during the Christmas holidays? Said that we had to make it look like you really were working for us, to cover all our backs. Well, I say he said - he wrote us a note. And he left us a massive sack of galleons as well, in January. Someone with that level of attention to detail was ready for this, you can be sure.”

“You don’t know that,” Ginny replied, sobbing now. “You can’t fix this, Fred. No one can fix this.”

“Who is he?” Fred asked curiously. “I mean, I should hate this man who has so comprehensively stolen my baby sister’s heart, but I can’t bring myself to do it. This - this is what you should have had with Harry. You should be with the person who makes you feel like this.”

“Theodore Nott,” Ginny said through her sobs. “And honestly, Fred, I think they might have killed him.”

9th April 1998

Someone was groaning. Theo wished they would stop. He seemed to be lying on something soft, and he tried to sit up but every muscle in his body seized and he groaned in concert with the other person. Lying back down, he tried opening his eyes as a first step. This was more successful, and, after some time, he managed to turn his head enough to establish that firstly, he was in a bed; secondly, he was naked; thirdly, he had the gritty, semi-clean feeling he associated with having been scourgified and finally, he wasn’t alone. The other person was thankfully identifiable by their hair, because they had their face buried in the cover and it was, in fact, them who was moaning. Less thankfully, it was not Ginny but Draco.

“Draco?” His voice sounded croaky, his throat aching from what he swiftly realised was screaming. The groaning stopped, and Draco groped a hand out towards him. Theo, with much wincing, managed to move his own arm enough to grip it. His right arm, he realised. He was avoiding looking at his left for the time being.

“Help?” Draco’s voice was muffled. Theo frowned.

“Leglimency migraine?” he realised, suddenly, as the events of the ritual came back to him. There was a whimper from the cushions. Theo squeezed Draco’s hand reassuringly, and then slowly managed to get off the bed. He fumbled around until he found a wand - Draco’s, but beggars couldn’t be choosers - and first blocked out all the light coming in the windows. This meant that Draco withdrew his face from the quilt, and Theo managed a cooling charm followed by a sleeping charm on the other man, who immediately lapsed into unconsciousness.

Now that he was up on his feet, Theo was acutely aware of other, more pressing needs, and shuffled stiffly into Draco’s bathroom to deal with them. The most immediate issue dealt with, he turned on the bath taps and watched the water as it filled, unable to force his brain to think about anything else. Only when the bath was full and steaming did he turn his attention to his arm. A blood soaked bandage was wrapped around it, and he slowly unwound it, soaking the dried blood in water until it fell away and he could see the damage.

He sat down on the edge of the bath, sickened. The skull and the snake blazed out of his inner arm, contrasting against the pale skin. It was some time before he could bring himself to get into the warm water, and though the feeling of the warmth on his injured muscles was a relief, the mark showed through the foam, through the water, taunting him with its presence. Eventually he hauled himself out the water, moving easier now, dried himself and helped himself to a pair of Draco’s pyjamas. He used Draco’s wand to find with his own which, to his surprise, was lying on top of his journal. There was a quill on Draco’s desk, and he opened the journal.

TN: Ginny.

GW: Theo! Thank Merlin, I’ve been worried sick!

GW: I haven’t heard from you for two days! I thought you were dead!

TN: No, love. Still going. What day is it?

GW: Thursday… how do you not know?

GW: Theo? Theo, answer me! I love you. This does not change who you are, do you understand?

TN: It’s so awful, Gin.

GW: Where are you?

TN: Draco’s room. I think he brought me here and bandaged it, and then we’ve both been out cold for a while. He has magical exhaustion and a raging migraine from using leglimency on me. I just hurt everywhere, aside from the obvious.

GW: Why was he using leglimency?

GW: Theo? Stop thinking you can get away with not answering me, dammit!

TN: Because prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse can cause damage to your mind. Draco was shielding me. My father and Bellatrix were enjoying their evening.

GW: Oh fuck, Theo.

TN: I… I probably owe him everything now, Gin. He gave me a chance to tell you how I felt, he gave me the book so we could stay in touch, and now he probably saved my mind. And possibly my life, I don’t know how recovery would have gone in the Malfoy dungeons and that was probably the alternative if he hadn’t dragged me up here.

GW: We’ll make it up to him. We’ll figure something out. Testify for him.

TN: You still think you’re going to win this?

GW: WE are going to win this, Theodore Nott! WE!

TN: I’m not a we now, Gin. Not with this thing on my arm.

GW: Bullshit. There are at least 2 spies marked already, though we’re not sure about Snape any more. But Tonks has someone in the inner circle feeding her info as well. You are not alone in there, Theo.

TN: Snape? What the fuck? And who does Tonks have?

GW: No idea. Maybe you find out and tell me. Now go and get some sleep. Write to me tomorrow. I love you.

TN: Love you too, gorgeous girl.

10th April 1998

The next time Theo woke up, Draco was sitting in an armchair, watching him.

“You’re wearing my pyjamas, you fucker,” was his greeting. Theo blinked sleepily at him.

“Good morning to you too. Would you rather I’d stayed naked? Does that do it for you these days? What day is it now, anyway?”

“Friday. Pretty much breakfast time. I told the elves we’d have it up here.” As in on cue, two elves appeared with a tray of breakfast foods, placed it on the table, and left again. Theo climbed out of bed and took the seat opposite Draco. Neither of them spoke for some time.

“Draco… what the fuck is going on?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look. You haven’t spoken to me in over a year. Since I offered to help with last years project and you told me to go and fuck myself, because no one else would. And then I punched you in Arithmancy.”

Draco smirked at the memory. “You haven’t spoken to me either.”

“For fuck’s sake man! In the space of a week you’ve knocked out your own friends, saved my relationship and my fucking life, and looked genuinely sorry that you were taking me to be marked, and we’re just supposed to pick up like we’re back in the middle of Sixth Year? Do we just forget the time in between, or what?”

Draco shrugged. “Works for me.”

Theo gave a frustrated exclamation. “Do you have to be such an arsehole? Why can’t you just answer a simple question with a simple answer?”

“Mostly because it’s pissing you off,” Draco said calmly. There was a pause, and then Theo looked up to see Draco grinning smugly at him across the table.

“You are an absolute prick,” he sighed. “And if every single bit of me didn’t hurt, I’d get up right now and punch you again.”

Draco shrugged. “Probably better for me that it does, then, but I’ll admit to being a prick. Look, this is awkward and I don’t fucking like awkward. I gave you the book for Weasley because I have one and it’s useful. I sent you to talk to her because I’ve been watching the two of you all year and trying to stop you getting caught.”

“Creep,” Theo interjected.

“Anyway, I sent you to tell her because… because last year I didn’t and I’ve fucked everything up. I didn’t want you to do that too.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Theo filed this one away for later reference.

“Last year? You’ve been out of this for a year?”

“I’m not sure I was ever really in it,” Draco admitted, sounding tired. “But it’s convenient, and then they made me Head Boy and my life continued much as it would have otherwise, if I’m being honest. I mean, aside from the torturing in detention and so on. I didn’t have any choice when they marked me - let’s face it, who does? - but it’s had it’s uses.”

“And the saving my sanity?” Draco quirked one pale eyebrow enquiringly. “OK, my reason then, if you prefer. You can keep your thoughts on my sanity to yourself, thank you.”

“You’ve fallen for a Weasley in the middle of a war, Theo, you are by definition off your fucking head. Though you probably were anyway. You are literally dating Harry Potter’s fucking girlfriend. You’ve probably just jumped the damn Dark Lord on his hit list. The leglimency was because I refuse to let any more good people die. You’re my friend, dammit. You always have been. And thankfully, you now still can be.”

“She’s not Potter’s girlfriend, she’s mine. And she thinks they’ll win,” Theo said quietly.

Draco stared at a croissant for a long moment. “I think we will too.” The words repeated themselves in Theo’s head, over and over again, as he slowly became aware that he was sitting with his mouth hanging open.

“You’re their fucking spy!” he hissed, finally. Draco gave him a small smile that was tinged with more than a hint of pride. “What… why… when…”

“Pick a question,” Draco prompted, now appearing to be highly amused at the sensation he’d caused.

“I am so fucking tempted to hex you stupid. Since when?”

“Last summer.”

“You arsehole!” Theo hissed. “I’ve been feeding information to Ginny and Longbottom and Finnegan - pair of dicks that they are - since September. We could have been working together!”

“Well I didn’t know that! I thought you were just trying to get into Weasley’s knickers!” Draco protested. “Wait - are you the one that’s been breaking into my office?” Theo grinned at him. “You absolute bastard! I thought it was bloody Finnegan!”

Theo snorted. “Please. Finnegan is about as subtle as a rampaging hippogryff. Like he could get through your wards. That alone should have told you it was me. I bet there were times you didn’t even know I’d been there.”

“How long did it take you to break them?”

“Seventy-eight seconds.”

“Bullshit.”

”Want me to prove it right now?”

“No, I can’t be arsed re-warding this place.” Theo laughed and twirled his wand between his fingers. “What did you do when you were in there?”

“Mostly, stole your patrol schedules so that Ginny’s lot could move around without being slapped in detention and tortured. Read any memos that were on your desk so that I could pass on what was relevant. Also drank any alcohol you happened to have lying around, and nicked the chocolate frogs out your desk drawer every time, just to be a prick.”

“Yeah, ok, I suppose that would have been useful. But… why? Why side with them?”

“Because they’re right. Because they’re the side my father isn’t on. Because no one tortured me to join. Because I thought about it and made a decision that that was where I wanted to be.”

“With Ginny Weasley.”

“Not to begin with. She was just… a convenient way in. I sat with her on the train in September, and she looked as miserable as I felt. Then I did some things at the start of term to get to know her a bit - I don’t know why, it just seemed like the way. And it grew from there.”

“When?” Draco asked, briefly.

Theo thought for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t know.” he said slowly. “I think when she came looking for me and healed my hands after they let him out of Azkaban. I was a mess that night, and she put me back together. Gave me more consideration than anyone had in a long time, to be honest. What about you? Why the fuck has Golden Boy Death Eater switched sides?”

“Because… last year I did something really stupid, as you know. And I hurt someone really badly. And I thought this would help me to win back their trust, and their friendship.”

“You’re in love with Granger!” Theo accused suddenly, a wide grin spreading across his face as several pieces fell into place at once. Draco turned pink. “You are! You have the cheek to rib me about Ginny, when you’ve fallen for Hermione fucking Granger! Salazar, I wish I could see your father find out about this. He’d expire on the spot!”

“Alright, alright, keep it down. Aunt Bella has ears like a fucking hawk,” Draco complained. Theo made a face and lowered his voice accordingly. “I should just have let them melt your damn mind, that’s two fucking secrets you’ve had out of me in under five minutes. I’d clearly forgotten what an absolute pain in the arse you are.”

“I’m just that good,” Theo retorted. “Granger, though, really?” Draco composed himself enough to raise an eyebrow in response.

”Weasley, though, really?” Theo grinned.

“OK, I’ll drop it. We’re both as bad as each other. Honestly, though, why haven’t we spoken for over a year?” Draco heaved a sigh.

“I didn’t want to pull you in,” he admitted. “Greg and Vince dived in headfirst, because they’re idiots, and Blaise just does his own thing, but you could have gone either way. I thought if we were closer, they’d get me to convince you. As it was, they waited longer than I expected before forcing you. And then it turns out you’ve been on the other side all along.”

“And you couldn’t just have told me that?”

“I… I didn’t think of that option,” Draco admitted.

Theo leaned back with a sigh. “Idiot. Does it hurt more if you fight it?”

“No, I don’t think so. I didn’t fight it and I woke up in here three days later in probably much the same mess you were in when you woke up yesterday morning. Except, you know, there was no one to strip and scourgify me, so…” Theo made a face, and Draco nodded in agreement.

“Thanks for that, I appreciate it. But you didn’t fight it? Why not? You cannot tell me you wanted this, Draco. I know you.”

“It was me or my mother,” Draco admitted quietly. Theo nodded understandingly, and then sat up, looking determined.

“Well, now there’s two of us. What do we do next?”

Draco smirked knowingly. “Daily chores,” he said. As Theo watched him, he calmly wrapped up the remainder of the pastries and fruit they’d been given for breakfast and began tucking them under his robes. “If you’re joining me, you might want to dress,” he suggested. “I opened the connecting door, you don’t have to go through the corridor.” Theo nodded his appreciation and disappeared into the other room where he rapidly changed into the same black trousers, white shirt and black robe that Draco was wearing. Draco nodded his approval when he came back and handed him a bundle of fruit to carry.

“Shove your mask in somewhere in case we need them,” he instructed. “And keep your wand handy.”

Theo followed close behind as Draco led the way through the empty corridors and down a dusty back staircase. Carrying their burdens, they stopped near the kitchens and Draco pressed his hand and wand to an otherwise unremarkable door.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, and, grabbing Theo’s free hand, pricked his finger, wiped the drop of blood onto the door, and then gestured. Theo pressed his own wand against the wards, which shimmered briefly. “If anything happens to me,” Draco said softly, as they continued down the stone stairs, “At least they won’t starve to death now.”

“Who…?” Theo began, but Draco had turned again and was continuing through what Theo recognised as the old wine cellars. Finally, he stopped at a wooden door.

“Hope you’re up to this,” he muttered gruffly, and pushed it open.

They were in a narrow corridor between two sets of iron bars. On the other side of the bars were people, Theo realised. Draco went straight to the end of the room, where a familiar figure was waiting.

“Draco! And Theodore today, how lovely,” Luna Lovegood sounded, Theo thought, like she was receiving them for afternoon tea in the best drawing room upstairs, rather than while locked in a cell. “I never did get the chance to thank you for trying to help me on the train. At least you managed to protect Ginny.” Theo stared at her in disbelief, but Draco was speaking to her and he listened, trying his best to keep up.

“How’s Ollivander?” Draco asked. “Did the potions help?”

She was nodding her head. “Yes, I think so. He seems better today.”

“Good. I’ve got you some more here. I’ll try and give you a few to stash somewhere before I go back to school.”

Luna was taking the vials through the glass when, to Theo’s surprise, another familiar face appeared.

“What the fuck is this, Malfoy, a show? Why’d you bring Nott?”

“Nice to see you too, Thomas,” Theo responded for himself. “I take it this is for you lot too?” He unwrapped the fruit and passed the first piece through the bars. Despite his hostile attitude, Dean Thomas took it eagerly, passing it back to someone in the shadows.

“Fuck you both. Just bloody get us out of here!” Theo glanced at Draco.

“Is he always this charming?” Draco sighed, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“He’s a Gryffindor, he can’t help it. Look, Thomas, as I’ve explained every day for the last week, if I break you out we’re all dead. This is as much as I can do.”

“And what about them?” Dean jerked his head towards the other side of the room and Theo turned, for the first time seeing a group of young women and girls huddled together, looking terrified.

“Who are they?” he asked, confused. Draco, who hadn’t stopped passing things through the bars to Luna, hesitated, but Dean replied first.

“Muggles, Nott. Muggle girls, snatched. Do you want to take a guess at what for?” Theo felt sick, and glanced at Draco, whose mouth was a thin line.

“We can’t fucking do anything, Thomas, do you not get it?” he hissed. Before Dean had a chance to reply, however, there were footsteps in the corridor outside and the door creaked open. Immediately, Luna disappeared with the last of the food, dragging Dean with her into the shadows. Draco stared at Theo, panicked, and Theo did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his mask, slipped it on - with Draco automatically doing the same - and turned them both to face the muggle girls on the other side.

“Who’s that? Who’s down here?” Theo’s heart, already racing, felt like it was about to fly out his chest as he recognised the voice.

“It’s me, Father. Draco was just… giving me a tour,” he called back, elbowing Draco in the ribs. Draco made a noise of agreement.

“Theodore? Is that you? Well, I didn’t expect to find you boys admiring this particular delight but, I suppose, you are both adults now. Perhaps I’ll speak to Rodolphus and see if he can spare a few specimens for you tonight, hmm? Make proper men of you both at last.”

Theo could feel a slight trembling from where Draco was standing beside him and he slipped his hand backwards to squeeze his friends wrist. “Whatever you think is proper, Father,” he answered politely. His father, much to his shock, let out a barking laugh.

“Well, well. Perhaps you’re not as useless as I always presumed, boy, hmm? Don’t stay down here too long, now. It’s hardly the best company to be found in.”

“No Father. We’ll be leaving momentarily,” Theo assured him as he wandered back up the stairs. As soon as the door closed behind him, Draco removed his mask and sagged against the bars, looking like he was about to be sick. Theo pulled off his own mask.

“I don’t think you’re useless, Theodore,” Luna’s voice said from the shadows before anyone else could speak.

Theo huffed a laugh. “Thanks, Luna.”

“Nott?” It was Dean. Theo raised an eyebrow.

”Thomas.”

“Whoever they bring you… help them.” Theo gave an irritated sigh.

“What the fuck else do you think we’re going to do, Thomas?”

“Dunno, do I? You’re Slytherins, and Death Eaters.” To Theo, it sounded like the charge of being a Slytherin was the more serious one in Dean Thomas’ eyes, and he opened his mouth to argue but Draco seemed to pull himself together at this point.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here before anyone else comes down. You might have fooled your father, but neither of us stands a chance against Aunt Bella.”

“Too true,” Theo agreed. “Lovegood, Thomas - until next time.”

Neither of them spoke again until the were back in Draco’s sitting room, with the doors and windows warded. Then they stared at each other.

“No one has ever caught me before,” Draco said weakly. “I panicked. If you hadn’t been there…”

“But I was,” Theo replied firmly. “And it’s fine. At least, until they deliver us a couple of those poor girls.”

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Draco asked. Theo considered for a long moment.

“Wing it?” he suggested eventually. The exasperated expression on Draco’s face suggested that this was not what he was hoping to hear.

Chapter Text

It was late that night before there was a bang on the door and, when Draco opened it, two young women were pushed towards him.  They huddled together, just inside the door, trembling from cold and fear.

“We’re not,” Draco began, reaching a hand out, but they squealed and flinched away, collapsing into a tight ball on the carpet.  He looked helplessly at Theo, who was sprawled on the sofa trying to stop his muscles hurting.  Theo sighed.

“Go and sit down,” he said.  “You’re in robes with your wand in your hand, and you look like your father.  You’re probably bloody terrifying.”  Draco obeyed, beginning to unbutton his robes as Theo sat down on the floor beside the frightened girls.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” he said quietly.  “I promise.  Look - no wand,” he held up his empty hands.  “I’ve left it over there.  Neither are we going to,” he grimaced, and then forced the words out, “Force ourselves on you.  Neither of us is into that sort of thing, believe me.  Here - “ he dragged two dressing gowns off the nearby sofa and draped them over and around the shivering girls. “wrap yourselves up in these.  I promised Thomas I’d take care of whoever they sent up.”  The girls sat up slowly and slid their arms into the dressing gowns.  The taller of the two looked at him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.  Theo nodded.

“You’ll have to spend the night here, but not with me and Draco.  That’s Draco over there, by the way, trying very hard not to look like his father.  I’m Theo.”

“Kelly,” the taller girl offered.  “And Alice,” she jerked her head towards the smaller one.

“So,” Theo continued.  “My room is through that door.  It’s yours for the weekend, or as long as you’re here.  There’s a bathroom as well - feel free to shower or bathe or whatever you want.  Neither of us will come in - you can lock the door on the inside if you prefer.  We’ve ordered tea and cakes and things if you want to come back through once you’re comfortable.  Then we can talk.”

A long hour later, they were seated round a tea tray in Draco’s sitting room.  A quick discussion between the two wizards while the girls were away had concluded that Theo should continue doing the talking, so after the initial pleasantries had been exchanged, and the girls were falling ravenously on the food the elves had provided, he started.

“We’re going to try and get you out,” he said.  “We’ll sneak you out while there’s something else going on to take up everyone’s attention, and tell them that you most unfortunately died due to Draco’s twisted proclivities.”

“Fuck you, Nott,” Draco muttered in response to this.  Alice flinched every time he spoke.

Theo grinned at him as he went on, “However, we do want something in return.”  With a long-suffering sigh, Kelly began untying the belt on her dressing gown.

“Will it be OK if it’s just me?” she asked coldly.  “Alice really can’t take any more.”  Theo frowned for a moment, and then realised what was happening.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he said hastily.  “Didn’t I tell you we weren’t into that stuff?  Apart from anything else, we’re both in relationships.”

“His father is married - I’ve seen his mother - and it doesn’t stop him,” Kelly retorted, jerking her head towards Draco.  “He was the one who broke Alice.”

“I am not my father!” Draco exclaimed.  She looked at him closely.

“No, I guess you’re not,” she admitted, before turning her attention back to Theo.  “So - if it’s not sex, what do you want for letting us go?”

“We want to let you go without wiping your memories.”

“You can wipe our memories?”

“We can,” Draco confirmed.  

“But we don’t want to, because after this is all over, we’re both going to have to stand trial,” Theo said bitterly.  “And they’re going to want to lock us up.  We’ve been passing information to the other side, but it’s likely - particularly for Draco - that that’s not going to be enough to get him out a prison sentence.  One of the charges is likely to be crimes against muggles - that’s you - “ he added helpfully, “So if we can produce you two to swear to our court that we didn’t hurt any of you, and that in fact Draco’s been providing food and medicine…”

“He won’t have to go to jail,” Kelly finished for him.  “I’m with you.  What age are you pair?”

“Seventeen,” Theo answered.

“Fucking hell,” Kelly swore.  “You’re kids.”

“This is a kids’ war,” Draco said bitterly.  “The hopes of the good guys are resting on a speccy twat that we go to school with.”

“What’s the downside for us?” Kelly asked.

“You’ll remember all the shit you’ve been through here,” Theo said apologetically.  She nodded slowly.

“And how will we know when your war is finished?”

“Leave us some way to contact you,” Theo replied promptly.  Kelly frowned.

“I can give you a phone number,” she offered.  “Do you have phones?”

“No, but Draco’s girlfriend is a muggle-born witch,” Theo replied.  Draco opened his mouth to argue, and then decided the details didn’t really matter.  “She’ll know what to do.”

”And you’ll get us out of this?”  He nodded.

“I swear.”

“What about the other girls?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Theo said recklessly.  Draco shot him an incredulous look, and he shrugged in return.

“Can we have a minute?”  The boys withdrew to the balcony, Draco grabbing a bottle of firewhisky on the way.

“They’ll never go for it,” he said bitterly, drinking straight from the bottle.  Theo took it off him and drank himself.  “If you had the chance to forget all of this, wouldn’t you?”

“No.  If I forgot all of this, I’d forget about my relationship with Ginny.  It’s worth it.  Fuck, even carrying her from the dungeons to fucking Gryffindor Tower was worth it.”  Draco laughed, grabbing the bottle back.

“I bet you were dead at the end of that.  You’re not exactly known for your physical prowess.”

“Still worth it,” Theo insisted.  “Anyway, you’re in the same situation.  You’d never have gotten to know Hermione if it wasn’t for all of that crap last year.  In fact, I practically gift wrapped her for you.  You should be thanking me!  In fact, why haven’t you?”

“Thank you for categorizing all of my cunning plans for murder as ‘all of that crap’,” Draco mimicked bitterly.

“Even so - would you give it up?”  There was a long pause.

“No,” Draco said eventually.

“You can come back in now,” Kelly’s voice said from the doorway.  “Thank you.  We’ve talked about it and we’ll do it.”  Theo stared at her.

“You’ll do it?”

“Yes.  Both of us.  Don’t wipe our memories and we’ll come and testify to your court.  I’ll write my number down for you.”  Draco handed her a quill, which she stared at in disbelief (“It’s like the damn dark ages”) before she managed to scratch a string of numbers on a piece of parchment.  Theo tucked it into the back of his journal.   “Right - we’re going to get some sleep,” she said, tugging Alice to her feet.  “I’m glad we ended up with you two tonight.”  Theo nodded to her, and then collapsed onto Draco’s bed when they’d disappeared.

“Come on, lover boy.  It’s you and me tonight.”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Fuck off, Nott.”

12^th April 1998

Draco was lying on his bed reading when Theo burst in the following evening.  He looked up, and then, as soon as he registered the panic on Theo’s face, jumped to his feet.

“What’s happened?”  His hands went automatically for his black robe, dragging it on even as Theo stared at him, wild-eyed, and gasped,

“They’ve got Hermione downstairs.”  Draco swayed on his feet, and Theo grabbed the front of his robes and jerked him upright.  “Hold it together.  We haven’t got time for you to have a fit about it.  They’ve got Potter and Weasley too.  Get your arse down there and stall like you never have before. Run!”  He pushed Draco towards the door and turning, made his way to the door to his own room, which he gave a perfunctory knock on before pushing it open.  The girls were lying on the bed, but looked up at his arrival.

“It’s time to go,” he said quickly.  “Hurry.  We’ll never have a better chance.”

Despite the commotion in the drawing room attracting almost the entire household, Theo, apologising profusely the entire time, used his wand to bind the girls wrists together and donned his mask as he led them through the long corridors.  They followed him meekly, and luckily didn’t pass anyone who paid them any attention.  Theo marched them out of a small door set low in the manor wall and pulled them into the shadow of the stone.

“We’re heading for those trees,” he murmured. “It would be easiest if I cast a spell on you to make you harder to see.  Will that be OK?”  The girls exchanged a quick glance, and then Kelly spoke.

“Do what you need to,” she murmured.  “We trust you.”  Theo gave her a quick smile and banished the ropes on their wrists, lacing his left hand through her right instead.

“Hang on to Alice,” he said, and disillusioned all three of them.  Once they were invisible and outside, the rest of the escape was easy.  He hurried them as quickly as he could to the ward lines, conscious of the fact that Draco would undoubtedly need his support in the drawing room, and removed the spells once they crossed them.  “The town is that way,” he said quickly, pointing.  “Stay off the road if you can.  I’m sorry I can’t take you further, but Draco can only buy me so much time.”  Kelly hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll see you again,” she promised.  Theo nodded and then, to his immense surprise, Alice threw her arms around him as well.

“Thank you,” she whispered.  Theo returned the hug and watched for a few moments as the girls set off in the direction he’d indicated.  Theo himself apparated to the dining room door, pushed it open, and found Draco just inside.  His eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Hermione, who was writhing on the floor under Bellatrix’s wand.  Theo cringed in sympathy, but focused his efforts on bracing Draco, who was swaying with the effort of doing leglimency under intense stress.  He could hear Weasley roaring ineffectually in the cellar, and closed his eyes, wondering how it had all gone wrong quite so quickly.

~

Unfortunately for Theo, things went from bad to worse.  By the time, just after midnight, that Potter and  Weasley, with Thomas, Luna, and a vaguely familiar house-elf had burst into the drawing room, saved Hermione, stolen Draco’s wand and apparated away, Draco himself was on the verge of collapse.  As the more senior Death Eaters started blaming each other, Theo dragged Draco back to his bedroom and threw him on to the bed.

“I’ll be back soon,” he muttered, putting his mask back on.  He ran back down the stairs lightly, letting himself into the now much emptier dungeon.  The other muggle girls were clustered together, and shrank back at the sight of him.  Theo cursed, and pulled off his mask.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he said quickly.  “I’ve just freed Kelly and Alice.  They trusted me.  You can too.  If you want to live, take hands and follow me.  If you stay here, I’m almost certain you’ll die.  It won’t take long for that lot up there to stop arguing and decide to release their stress in another way.”  There was a momentary pause, and then the girls either shuffled or dragged each other into a line, holding hands.  Theo moved along the line, rapidly disillusioning them, and then took the hand of the girl at the front. “Everyone ready?” he asked, putting his mask back on.

He led the line out of the dungeons, past the dead body of Peter Pettigrew, to whom he barely spared a glance, and up the stairs.  He paused at the top, listening, and held up his hand as he heard footsteps approaching.  Lucius Malfoy passed the end of the corridor, still arguing furiously with someone else that Theo couldn’t identify under his mask.  He waited until they’d moved on, then took the same route he’d just used to get Kelly and Alice out, once again lifting the disillusion spells on the ward-line.

Feeling distinctly weak by now, he pointed in the direction of the village again.

“Go,” he said tiredly.  “Stay hidden.”  The girls, still looking stunned, staggered off together in the direction he’d pointed.  Theo pulled his hands down his face with a groan, and apparated back to Draco’s bedroom, collapsing face down on the bed when he arrived.  “Migraine kicked in yet?” he grunted.  Draco shook his head.  Theo nodded, relieved.  “Thank fuck for that.  I don’t think I’ve got enough left for even a lumos.  Wake me when you need me, yeah?”  He was asleep almost before he’d even said the last word.

13th April 1998

DM: Granger, are you OK?  Are you alive?

DM: I’m so sorry.  I couldn’t stop her.

DM: Hermione?  Are you safe?

14^th April 1998

HG: I’m here.  I’m safe.

HG: Malfoy?

HG: Draco?

DM: This isn’t Draco.  Hello Hermione.  This is Theo Nott.

DM: I should have known Draco wasn’t clever enough to come up with these books by himself.  Did you make them?

HG: Where’s Malfoy? Is he OK?

DM: Asleep.  Leglimency gives him a migraine.

HG: So it was leglimency.  I thought I was hallucinating.

DM: I thought the same when he did it to me too, last week.  He seems to have succeeded though.  You’re not writing like your brain has dribbled our your ears.

HG: Charming imagery, Nott. Neither are you, so I presume he was successful in protecting you from whatever he was trying to as well.

DM: It’s what I do best.  Glad you’re ok though, Granger.  I’ll tell him when he wakes up.  And call me Theo.  I have a feeling we’re going to be the best of friends.

HG: Thank you Theo.

HG: Oh, and Theo?

DM: Yes, darling?

HG: He’s really missed you.

DM: Me too, Hermione.  But thanks.

~

DM: I’m sorry you had to deal with that idiot.

HG: I’m sorry you gave yourself a migraine helping me.  And Theo was perfectly pleasant.

DM: Are you sure you’re ok?

HG: As well as can be expected, yes.

DM: Good.

HG: Dobby isn’t.

DM: Oh shit.

HG: I’m sorry.  I thought I should tell you but that wasn’t very tactful, was it?

DM: No, it’s OK.  I just… I didn’t realise.  What was it?

HG: Bellatrix’s knife.

DM: Fuck.  At least he got you out.  I’ll always remember him for that.

HG: We all will.

DM: Have you at least got my wand?

HG: No, Harry has it.  It seems to like him.

DM: Fucking useless thing.  I meant for you to get it.

HG: Harry is more important.

DM: That’s rubbish, Granger.  Tell Scar-head I want it back the next time I see him.  And he better bloody look after it.

1^st May 1998

HG: We’re heading to Hogwarts.  If I don’t survive, I’ve left a letter for Tonks telling her who you are and that you’re on our side.

DM: I’m already at Hogwarts.  If I don’t survive, there’s something I want you to know.  Shit, I need to get rid of Goyle.  Two seconds.

~

TN: Lots of activity here.  I think we’re getting to the end.

GW: We’ve all been summoned to Hogwarts.  Keep out of trouble if you can, yeah?

TN: Trouble is my middle name, love.  I’ll find you.

GW: Theo… if we don’t get through this - I love you.

TN: We will get through this.  I still need to fuck you against a wall.  Promised you on the train.

TN: No one is killing me until I’ve done that, trust me.

GW: You always make me laugh.

TN: Love you too gorgeous. See you on the other side.

~

Theo paused in an empty corridor and pulled off his robes and mask.  After a moment’s thought, he added his Slytherin tie to the pile, and kicked the whole pile into the nearest doorway.  No need to invite extra attacks, after all.  Draco had been taken off somewhere by Crabbe and Goyle, and so far Theo had been unable to find Ginny.  He grasped his wand and set off again in the direction of the noise.

“Theodore?”  The voice, as it always did, made him feel like his insides were about to shrivel up.  “What are you doing, boy?”  There was suspicion in the tone, and Theo readied himself.

“Heading back to the battle, Father,” he replied, smoothly.

“No robes?  No mask?”  

Theo turned slightly.  “I don’t need them.”  His hand was moving before he’d every finished the sentence, the shield coming up to deflect the first curse his father sent his way.

“So this is what you’ve come to,” his father announced, advancing down the corridor towards him.  “My son, the blood-traitor.”  Theo forced himself to laugh.

“I’ve been a blood-traitor for a long time,” he said, mockingly.  “It’s not my fault you didn’t pay enough attention to notice.”  And then they were duelling, properly.  Theo was slightly faster, his father had slightly more power.  The corridor was too narrow.  Eventually, Theo found himself disarmed.  He froze, his father, now breathing heavily, still approaching.  He raised his wand.

“Theo, down!” the scream echoed the length of the corridor and Theo threw himself flat on the floor as a jet of red light - a stunner - flew over his head.  She missed.  Even as Theo scrambled across the floor towards his wand, his father sent a stunner of his own towards Ginny.  He, unfortunately, didn’t miss - she flew backwards and out of sight.

“Ginny!” Everything Theo had ever been taught about control flew straight out his head.  “Now you’ve made a mistake,” he said, as he took advantage of the moment and retrieved his wand.  “That, Father, was the future Lady Nott.   She’s a pure-blood and everything!  You should be proud!” He returned to the duel, his casting erratic now in his desperation to finish it and get to Ginny.  His father, now furious after Theo’s taunts, was equally sloppy, but had more experience and eventually, a jet of light penetrated Theo’s shield.  For the second time, he was disarmed and this time, he was sure, it was over.  He closed his eyes as his father advanced, filling his mind with thoughts of Ginny.  Then there was a grunt, and a crash.

“You going to lie there all day, Nott?” a voice laughed above him.  Theo opened his eyes to find one Weasley twin holding out a hand, while the other offered him back his wand. He allowed them to pull him to his feet.

“Thanks,” he said.

“He’s only stunned,” said the nearest twin, indicating hid father’s prone body.  Theo nodded, his face set.  He intended to rectify that.

“Ginny too,” he said, jerking his head towards the end of the corridor.  The other twin took off at a run, but the first hesitated, looking from Theo to his father and back again.

“Welcome to the family, Nott,” he said, with a grin.  Theo, despite himself, returned it.  “Don’t die, yeah?  You’ll break her heart.”

His brother reappeared at the corner.  “Fred, come on!  She’s OK!” he added.  Theo almost sagged with relief.

“Theo!  What the fuck are you doing?”  It was Draco’s voice.  Theo met Fred Weasley’s eyes.

“Keep her alive,” he said, almost begging.  “I have something to do here.  I’ll catch up.”  Fred nodded, and sprinted off after his siblings as Draco ran to Theo, looking at his father on the floor.  He was smoke-stained and smelled of fire, and looked even paler than usual.

“Vince is dead,” he said, as soon as he got to Theo.  “Fiendfyre.  Fucker cast it trying to get Potter.  We only just got out.  Fucking Potter saved my life.”

“The Weasley twins just saved mine,” Theo said, indicating his father.  “He tried to kill me when he saw I wasn’t fighting for them, and he stunned Ginny.”

“Fuck,” Draco said, eloquently.  Theo nodded his agreement, and pointed his wand directly between his father’s eyes.  “You sure?” Draco sounded nervous.

“Never been more so.  In fact, can I call in a favour?”

“What?”

“Renervate him.  I want him to know it’s me.”

Draco stared at him.  “Theo…”

“Do it or fuck off,” Theo snapped, impatiently.  “I’ve got a girl to get.”

Draco put a hand on his shoulder, and cast the spell.  Theo’s father opened his eyes and took in his son, and his son’s best friend, staring down at him.

“Pair of filthy blood-traitors…”

“Avada Kedavra.”

Draco looked anxiously at his friend.  Theo used his foot to shove the body to the side, and looked back at him.  “What?” he asked.

“Are you OK?”  

Theo grinned then.  “Honestly?  There’s literally one point in my life so far that topped that moment, and it involved the wonderful Ginevra.”

“I couldn’t…”

“No.  But you didn’t hate Dumbledore, did you?  Disliked him, were irritated by him, even probably wished him dead - but you didn’t hate him and you couldn’t kill him.  With my late father,” Theo’s grin got impossibly wider as he stressed these words, “That problem did not apply.  Now - shall we leave the philosophy til later, Drakey-boy?  We’ve got a war to win, and there’s two witches out there that we’ve given up everything for.  Let’s go and get them.”

“What the…” it was a new voice, and they both spun around.

“Dolohov,” Draco said, drawing himself up.  The man looked from them to the body on the floor, and seized up the situation far faster than either of them expected.  A blasting curse flew the length of the corridor, knocking them apart.  Draco hit the wall, hard, and lay dazed for a second.  Opposite him, he could see Theo, apparently out cold.  For the third time in ten minutes, Theo’s wand was not in his hand.

“Blood traitor brat,” Dolohov muttered.  He was ignoring Draco, his eyes fixed on Theo.  Draco slid his mother’s wand out his sleeve, slowly. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.  Dolohov pointed his wand at Theo - at the boy who had been there through everything, who had sent him Hermione, who had been at his shoulder for the last few, horrific weeks in the Manor.  At the boy who had, just seconds before, gained his own freedom by his own hand.  In a fraction of a second, images of a life without Theo flashed across Draco’s internal eye and cold, furious hatred for the man who wanted to kill his friend bloomed.  Even as Dolohov opened his mouth, Draco was casting, from the floor, desperation in every syllable.  The jet of green light flew true, and landed between Dolohov’s shoulder-blades.  The man stiffened, and fell forward, on top of Theo.  Draco rolled on to his back in the ruined corridor, flicking his wand tiredly to move Dolohov’s body away from his friend.

“The fuck just happened?” Theo asked, dazedly.  Draco, who thirty seconds before had been convinced that he’d never hear Theo swear at him again, smiled.

Chapter Text

1^st June 1998

George surveyed the wreckage that had once been their dream with a sinking feeling.  It had taken a long time to decide to come to the shop that morning.  His mother had been strongly against the idea (“It’s too soon!”) and all of his brothers had grabbed him individually and begged him to wait until they were free and they’d come with him.  George didn’t care.  None of them were Fred, and therefore none of them mattered.  This had been his and Fred’s dream, and now it was his alone.  And it was up to him to get it back up off the ground, because that’s what Fred would have wanted to do if he hadn’t been dead.

Dimly, George was aware that perhaps he hadn’t fully mourned his twin.  Hermione had talked one night when they were both up late about different stages of grief, and some of it had made sense, but nowhere had it included what to do when the person you had lost had extracted a blood oath from you (and given you one in return) that if he died, you would not let it ruin your life.  That was the primary driver in George’s life now - not Fred, but the oath that he had given to continue as if Fred was still there.  As a result, he’d spent three weeks grieving after the funeral and today, exactly one month since the day his life had fallen apart, he had decided was the day to start putting it back together.

He was just about to vanish the whole mess when a commotion outside caught his attention.  Crunching over the broken glass, he made his way into the street to see a black cloaked, hooded figure walking quickly down Diagon Alley, head down, pursued by shouts and jeers from the other shopkeepers and shoppers.  George took a step forward just as a shower of stones came skimming over the heads of the crowd and one, larger than the rest, hit the figure in the shoulder.  It faltered slightly, but then continued moving, and George, acting on impulse, stepped out into the street, seizing the unknown person and pushing them into the shelter of the shop doorway.  A second shower of stones bounced off his hastily cast shield, and he stalked back out into the middle of the road.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded to the crowd.  There was a general shuffling of feet.

“It’s a Death Eater!” someone shouted eventually, braver than the rest in the face of an enraged Weasley.

“Is it?” George asked sarcastically. “Which one, I wonder?  Rather silly of them to go matching down the middle of Diagon Alley when every one of them is either in Azkaban or on a ministry wanted poster, don’t you think?  This though?  This looks like a kid in a cloak to me.  And I got good at spotting Death Eaters - see, I actually fought them.  This is not what I fought for.  This is not what my brother died for!” he glared round at them all, feeling a moment of pride that none of them could meet his eyes.  “Go and do something useful.” he snapped, before turning and ushering his new charge into the ruins of the shop.

“Take that cloak off, I’ve got some bruise paste somewhere for your shoulder,” he said gruffly, rummaging in a box behind the counter.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.  You might regret what you just did,” the figure said nervously.  The voice was feminine, and vaguely familiar. “In fact, I’m almost certain you will.”

“You’re a woman,” George observed.  “I didn’t go to war with women.  Unless you’re Bellatrix, which would be impressive as I saw her die, I really don’t care.  War’s over.  I lost a lot more than most, and I don’t intend to make anything any worse as a result.”  Small hands emerged from the robe and pushed back the hood, revealing a blunt black bob, small pointed face, and slightly snub nose.  George sighed.

“Pansy Parkinson,” he said grimly.  Pansy stared at her feet.

“Told you you’d regret it,” she shrugged.  “Though I’ll hand it to you, you were right.  I’m not a Death Eater.  Daughter of one, sister of one, even girlfriend of one at one point, but completely unmarked myself.”  George sighed again.

“I don’t regret it.  I’m not going to let them bloody stone you because your parents chose the wrong side.  Like I told them - that’s not what I fought for.  Turn around so I can put some of this on your shoulder.”  Pansy obeyed, unbuttoning the top of her robe and sliding it off her shoulders with a wince, displaying a large, rapidly-darkening bruise covering her shoulder and the top of her back.  George applied the paste gently, ignoring his newly-acquired knowledge of the colour and style of Pansy Parkinson’s bra, and instead focusing on how clumsy and awkward his fingers looked beside her delicate frame.  “Where were you going?”  he asked gruffly when he’d finished and she was re-fastening her clothes.

“Gringotts,” she sighed. “But I don’t fancy my chances at getting there now.”

“I’m going myself later, if you want an escort.  Means you’d have to hang around here in the meantime though.  I was planning to make a start on sorting this place out.”

“I could help?” Pansy offered.  “As thanks, you know, for rescuing me and the bruise stuff and the offer to take me to Gringotts.  Where were you going to start?”  George laughed, mirthlessly.

“I was about to vanish the lot of it.”  Pansy shook her head.

“You don’t need to do that,” she replied hastily, scrutinising the mess.  “You’ve got loads of stock here.  It’s just all over the floor.”  Before George quite knew what was happening, Pansy had three large boxes between them into which she was calming sorting stock that could be re-sold, stock that was slightly damaged, and rubbish with casual flicks of her wand.  “You could try some sort of reparo on the door and window, if you want” she suggested.  Aware that he was staring, he turned away and took her advice.  It took several attempts, but the window and door were eventually back in one piece.  Pansy turned to look.  “Looking good,” she said approvingly.  George joined her in sorting the floor, and they worked in silence for a while before she spoke again.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” she said, into the silence.  George froze.  The bottle he was levitating fell to the floor and smashed.  Pansy sighed and re-directed it to the rubbish bin.  “I lost a brother too - not a twin, of course, but he was the only one I had.  Rowan.”

“I remember him,” George said after a second.  “Slytherin, yeah?  Couple of years above me.  Was a decent keeper.  Charlie liked him.”

“That’s him,” Pansy agreed.  “He died last summer.  Some sort of idiotic attack on Potter that went wrong because there were too many Potters.  Got stunned and fell out the air.”  George closed his eyes briefly.

“I was there,” he admitted.  “I was one of the extra Potters.  Didn’t stun anyone though, don’t worry.  I was out cold for most of it because Snape cut my fucking ear off.”  He pushed his hair back to show the scar on the side of his face and Pansy frowned.  She raised her hand as if to touch it and then pulled back hastily.

“Anyway - all I was going to say was that I know how shit it is.  And I’m sorry you’re having to go through that.”  

George nodded.  “Thanks, Pansy.”

~

It was almost dark by the time he escorted her to Gringotts and fully so by the time they met again on the steps outside.

“Will you be back at the shop tomorrow?” Pansy asked.  George shrugged.

“I suppose so.  I mean, I need to get it open again.  It’s my livelihood.”

“I could come and help again?  I’ll bring coffee.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“My family are dead or in Azkaban, my friends are in Azkaban or hiding from the press… so no.  I really don’t.  My only other alternative is wandering round my house, annoying my one remaining house elf.”  George shrugged.

“Come if you want then,” he agreed.  “And thanks.  For what you did today and for what you said.  It meant a lot.”

Pansy gave him a quick smile and an understanding nod, and apparated away.

2^nd June 1998

George arrived at the shop early the following day.  He’d showered and shaved that morning, and abandoned the ripped Gryffindor Quidditch t shirt and saggy jogging bottoms of the previous day for a new t-shirt with the shop logo on it, which he’d dug out of a box in the bottom of Fred’s wardrobe, and a pair of jeans.  He’d even found a matching purple robe and pulled it on over the other clothes, leaving it hanging open.  There were limits, after all.

He’d stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, contemplating cutting his own hair, but ultimately deciding that would be one of his stupider plans.  His mother had done a double take when he bounded down the stairs, and Ginny had asked bluntly why he’d decided to abandon the homeless aesthetic he’d been indulging in for the last few weeks.  He’d ignored them both, grabbed some toast, and stepped through the Floo to the shop.

He ignored the slight pang of disappointment that he felt when Pansy was not already there, and busied himself with continuing their work from the day before.  It became almost automatic, and he found it therapeutic to see the floor gradually re-appear from under the mess.  By the time Pansy arrived, carrying two cups of coffee, the front half of the shop was almost clear.

“I thought you’d changed your mind,” he said, taking one of the cups with a nod of thanks and leaning against the counter.  Pansy jumped up and sat on it.

“Took longer to get the coffee than I expected,” she explained.  “Muggle coffee shops are complicated.  I’m sure the woman thought I was an absolute idiot.”  George raised an eyebrow and re-examined the cup, and then took in the decidedly muggle jeans and blouse that Pansy was wearing under her open robe.

“This is muggle?”  Pansy shrugged.

“People in Diagon Alley don’t serve me,” she explained. “It was muggle or nothing, and I didn’t want to turn up with nothing.  I did tell you I’d bring the coffee, after all.”   George, surprised, nodded in acknowledgement, and sipped his coffee.  “My elf is going to bring lunch over in a bit,” Pansy continued.  George looked up in surprise.

”You didn’t need to do that.  You’re already here helping me.”  She shrugged in response.

“You stopped them attacking me.  Even this morning, I walked down the street and they looked and muttered but they didn’t do anything.  And anyway, you don’t look like you’ve been eating much.  I’m not having you passing out on me.”

George laughed softly.  “You’re right. There didn’t seem to be a lot of point in eating much.”

“You know you need to keep going, don’t you?” Pansy asked bluntly.  “You owe it to you both now.”

“So people keep telling me.  I thought, if I get the shop back up and running that would be something, you know?  But honestly, I don’t know where to start.  It’s like… it’s not even like I’m missing an arm, or a leg.  It’s like I’m missing half my brain. Nothing’s the same any more.  I start a thought, and I have to get all the way to the end of it by myself.  I think of something, and look round, and there’s no one there thinking the same thing.”

“That sounds hard,” she said quietly.

George nodded.  “It is.  I swore him a blood oath,” he said suddenly, surprising himself.  This was not information that he’d shared with anyone. “That if either of us died before the end, the other one wouldn’t let it ruin our lives.  That we’d keep going, that we’d keep the shop running… it was Fred’s idea.  It’s almost like he knew.”  

Pansy had stopped  sorting and was looking at him quietly.  “I think… that was brave,” she said slowly.  “That must have been a hard thing to swear to.”

“The worst,” George admitted.  “Neither of us would have admitted it before, but we both ended up in tears.  Couldn’t imagine how to go on alone.  And now I have to work it out.  I think he’d have been better at it than me.”

“Why?” Pansy asked.  She had slowly begun pulling out pieces of rubbish and tossing them into one of her boxes.

“He was the leader.  He was the one with all the confidence and swagger.  I just… followed him.   And he had a relationship.  She would have supported him.  I’m just… me, on my own.  I haven’t even seen my friends since the…” he paused, swallowed, and closed his eyes, “the funeral,” he finished.

“Why don’t you invite them over?” Pansy suggested.  “I mean, you have a place upstairs, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” George said.  “I haven’t ventured up the stairs.  This seemed like a big enough task.I’ve no idea what state it’s in.”

“It might be easier to start in your flat,” Pansy said thoughtfully.  “Then, if everything gets a bit much, there’s somewhere  we - I mean, you - can go to relax for a bit.”

George shrugged.  “I don’t suppose it matters really what bit we tackle when.  We might as well take a look,” he agreed.  He led the way up the stairs, Pansy glancing around curiously as they went.  George hesitated outside the door, which was hanging by a single hinge.  “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted.  Pansy stepped forward.

“I’ll be with you,” she said.  “It’s payback.  You helped me yesterday, I help you in return.”  She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it.  He glanced down at her.

“That’s a lot of payback for a bit of bruise paste,” he said, suspiciously.  Pansy shrugged.

“Consider it me paying off my debt to society as well as my debt to you,” she said.  “It takes a lot of good deeds to cancel out the negative perception incurred by suggesting that we hand Potter over to the Dark Lord.”

“It was one of your bitchier moments,” George agreed, and, temporarily distracted by the look of indignation on her face, he took her hand and they stepped through the broken doorway together.  They surveyed the ruined flat in silence.

“May I make a suggestion?” Pansy asked.  

“Mhm,” George nodded, and she glanced up at him.  His lips were pressed tightly together, and there were tears clinging to his eyelashes.  

She abandoned her suggestion immediately and sat down on the nearest surface, pulling him down beside her.  “I’m a Slytherin and I’m shit at this,” she said warningly.  “But I’m pretty sure that in Gryffindor Tower, this is the point where you get a hug.” She wrapped her arms around him tentatively, surprised when he almost immediately collapsed into her, crying bitterly.  She rested her cheek on his head and they stayed like that for a long time, while he cried himself out.  Eventually, George sat up.  Pansy grimaced at his swollen eyes, and immediately pulled out her wand to cast a cooling charm.  George shivered as it washed over him, doing its work.

“That’s better,” Pansy said, when most of the redness was gone.  George looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he began.  “That was… well, that was unexpected.  I thought I was done with that bit.”

Pansy shrugged.  “Do you feel better?”

He considered for a few moments.  “Yes, I do,” he said eventually.  “What were you saying before about a suggestion?”  Pansy jumped up, clapping her hands together.

“Tebbit!” she called.  “Tebbit!”  There was a crack, and a small house elf appeared in front of them.

“Miss Pansy, Tebbit is making the lunch that you asked for…” he began, and then tailed off, staring around him in horror.  “Miss Pansy, where is we?”  Pansy grinned at his shock.

“This is my friend’s house,” she said.  “It was searched by Death Eaters, and we know that they don’t tidy up after themselves.”

The elf sniffed.  “They does not,” he agreed promptly.  “Tebbit is remembering the revels at Parkinson House, oh yes.  Tebbit is having lots of cleaning to do after those!”

“Would you mind tackling this flat, while George and I go back downstairs and keep going with the shop?” Pansy asked.  The elf considered.

“In twenty minutes, Tebbit will have finished making lunch,” he said, considering.  “Then Tebbit was planning to polish the mirrors.  Miss Pansy has very many mirrors,” he added as an aside to George, who was watching this conversation with something like disbelief.  “But if Miss Pansy would rather, Tebbit can come here instead.  This would be a satisfying task.”  Pansy nodded.

“Thank you Tebbit.  I agree, the mirrors - of which I do not have too many, incidentally - can wait.”

“Then Tebbit will return in half an hour, with lunch,” the elf said firmly.  “Unless, of course, Miss Pansy is delaying him further.”  He disappeared.

“You’re going to have your house elf clean my flat?” George asked.  Pansy shrugged.

“If you don’t mind.  He’ll be better at it than either of us.  And he’s not technically my house elf, I suppose.  They were all freed last month when the emergency decree went though at the Ministry.  Tebbit just refused to leave.  So I pay him, and he bosses me around and makes rude comments out loud now instead of in his head.”  George grinned.

“I bet you do have too many mirrors,” he teased gently.  Pansy gestured towards herself.

“And do you think this would happen without them?” she asked.  George shrugged.  “I mean, even you look substantially better today than you did yesterday,” she observed.  He grinned, guiltily.

“Well, I thought if I was going to be spending time with real people then I should make a bit of an effort.”

“Good.  I was considering forcing an intervention if you hadn’t.  I’m grateful to you, Weasley, but not enough that I’d ever again agree to be seen in public with you the way you looked yesterday.  Now, come on.  I wouldn’t put it past Tebbit to refuse to give us lunch if we’re still sitting here when he gets back.”

The rest of the day passed quickly.  Before the elf returned, they occupied themselves with clearing George’s office, which was less affected than the main shop floor, so that they had somewhere to eat.  When they sat down to lunch, George felt a pang of grief when Pansy sat in Fred’s chair and spun it round the way Fred used to do, so that they could eat on George’s desk.  She clearly saw it on his face.

“Should I not sit here?”

He shook his head.  “It’s fine.  It’s a chair, that’s all.  If I start going down that route I’ll never stop, and I’ll end up insane.”  Pansy quirked an eyebrow.

“End up?” she repeated.  “Have you seen the shit you’ve invented, Weasley?  It’s some sort of cross between insanity and genius, but believe me, there’s no doubt about the insanity.”

“Rude,” George observed.  They tucked into the picnic lunch that was spread out on his desk.  “This is Tuesday,” George said thoughtfully, through a mouthful of egg sandwich.  “I thought I might invite everyone over on Friday.  Do you think that will be long enough?”  Pansy considered.

“I’d say so.  I mean, the shop probably won’t be finished but the flat should be.  Tebbit works fast.”  George, still eating sandwiches, busied himself writing a note and duplicating it five times.

“I’ll send it off after lunch,” he said firmly.  “One more step forward, yeah?”  

Pansy nodded.  “Just one after another,” she agreed.  “Eventually, it will be almost normal.”

“Will you be here on Friday?” George asked impulsively.  “When they come over, I mean.”

She looked doubtful.  “I don’t know, George.  I don’t exactly have the best history with your friends.”

“You don’t have the best history with anyone, Parkinson.  Except some people in Azkaban.”

“Harsh but fair,” Pansy concluded.  “Would it make a difference to you if I was here?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Then count me in,” she said firmly.

After lunch, they finished clearing the shop floor.  They now had a pile of boxes along one side, holding various items of stock.  George cast a series of cleaning charms, chasing the rest of the dirt and dust out of the corners and out the door into the daylight.

“What’s next?” Pansy asked.

“Fix the shelving.  Sort out some sort of plan for where I’m putting stuff.  And then refill all the shelves.”

“Well then,” she gave him a determined grin.  “That’s tomorrow.  I’ll get the coffee.”

~

On Wednesday morning, George Flooed to the shop with a renewed sense of purpose.  By the time Pansy arrived, he was working his way through the empty displays, repairing them as he went.  It was magically exhausting, and he was glad to stop and drink the coffee she waved at him as she came in.  She made a face when he wiped his face on his t-shirt.

“I am not getting involved in that,” she said firmly.  “Sweaty and dishevelled might be OK for you, Weasley, but I am a lady.  I’ll work on the shelving plan.”

“Wimp,” George said, almost under his breath.  Pansy narrowed her eyes, and then directed a silent tickling jinx at his knees. He yelped, and jumped forward to dodge it, before rounding on her.  “You really want to pick this fight, Parkinson?” he asked, grinning.  Pansy retaliated with another jinx and then, as he started to move, gave an earsplitting shriek and dived into the corridors at the back of the shop.

George took off after her, dodging the spells that she was sending back over her shoulder.  His own wand was in his hand, but he refused to cast anything, just chased her as he would have Ginny or Hermione until he finally had her cornered in the back of the stockroom.  She was flushed and laughing, watching him anxiously as he came closer.  Eventually, he was standing directly in front of her.

“Got you,” he said, quietly.  

Pansy tossed her hair.  “You have,” she admitted.  “What are you going to do now?”

George hesitated.  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” he admitted ruefully.  Pansy giggled, which made him laugh too.  He stopped, suddenly.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“What for?”

“In slightly less than 2 days, you’ve turned everything on it’s head.  You just made me laugh, for fucks sake.  I can’t remember the last time I laughed.”

“In that case, you’re welcome,” Pansy said smugly.  She took his hand, and began pulling him back towards the shop floor.  “Now come on.  I fully intend to spend my day re-designing your shop, while not at all admiring the sweaty wizard doing all the work.”

“No,” George said, smirking.  “Not at all, I’m sure.”

~

On Thursday morning, George went and got himself a proper haircut.  At a proper barbers shop.  He told himself that it was because he was in desperate need of one, and that cutting his hair short would mean that he stopped catching his reflection out the corner of his eye and thinking it was Fred.  This was all true.  The fact that Pansy continued to turn up, day after day, at the shop, looking like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine, surely had nothing to do with it.

She was waiting when he arrived, leaning against the door.  People passed by, but all seemed to be ignoring her.  She raised an eyebrow when she spotted him.

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“Better?” he asked, unlocking the door and taking his coffee.  She took a long sip of her own while she stared at him.

“Yeah,” she said, eventually.  “Much better.  You suit it short.  I like it.”

George’s chest tightened at the compliment.

“Do you…” she broke off.

“Do I what, Parkinson?  I think we’re a bit beyond being hesitant, don’t you?”

“Do you want me to try and do something with the scars?”

“What sort of something?”

“Well, there are spells - beauty spells, I suppose - that might fade them, or make them less noticeable.”  She stepped closer to him, and ran her fingers over the deep purple scars.  “What was it?”

“Sectumsempra,” George replied, closing his eyes against the sensation of her fingers on his face.

“I can fade them,” Pansy said, confidently.  “I did it for Draco.  His are white.  Much less noticeable. If you want.”

George looked down at her, and then said, “OK.  See what you can do.”

“I’ll go and use your workshop.  There’s a salve we need.”  He watched her leave, wondering if he’d gone suddenly insane.  Why the hell was he trusting Pansy Parkinson, of all people, with what was left of his face?  With a sigh, he turned back to organising the shop.

~

It seemed that, having mastered muggle coffee shops, Pansy was now trying to work her way through their entire menu.  On the Friday morning, she handed him two cups of something that clinked with ice while she took off her outer robes.  George raised an eyebrow at them.

“This is not coffee,” he observed.  “Coffee is hot.” Pansy put her hands on her hips.

“It came from a coffee shop,” she said defensively.

“What is it?”

“It’s an iced caramel something…” she said, thoughtfully.  “I asked the girl to give me two of whatever she usually bought for herself.”

George sipped it hesitantly.  It wasn’t bad.  He carefully kept his face neutral and did not broadcast that.  “Still not coffee,” he said.  Pansy shrugged, and put her fingers on his chin, turning his face to the light.

“Nice.  That’s faded already,” she observed.  She jumped up to sit on the counter again, which put her at the same height as him, and pulled the little jar of salve out of her pocket.  Without asking, she applied another layer of it to the scars, and then pulled out her wand to add the necessary spells.  He stood motionless until she was finished, and then handed her back her drink.

“Are you ready for tonight?  Upstairs?”

“Terrified to touch a cushion in case your elf appears and shouts at me,” he confessed.  

Pansy giggled.  “Welcome to my life,” she said.  “He likes you though.  Tebbit, I mean.  Calls you ‘Miss Pansy’s Man’.”  

George, not for the first time that week, pushed away the thoughts of what it would be like to actually be ‘Miss Pansy’s Man’ and picked up another box.  “Where’s this one going?”  

Pansy looked inside.  “Back wall, I think,” she said.  “That stuff should be bright enough to stand out there, it’s a bit dull in that corner otherwise.”

“Pansy Parkinson, how dare you?” George called over his shoulder, moving the box to where she’d pointed.  “Nothing about me or my shop has ever been dull.  I am highly offended.”

“Yes, but now it’s going to be better, because you’ve got me,” Pansy said vaguely, consulting a clipboard that hovered beside her.  “Listen, George, what do you think about expanding your wonder witch line?”  George actually was surprised this time.  Pansy doing interior design he could handle.  Pansy doing emotional support, he was positively a fan of - particularly the occasional hugs that he wasn’t sure meant if she cared about him or she hated him.  Pansy doing product development was new.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“It’s probably stupid,” she began slowly.  “But I went to see Daphne last night after I left here, and she’s been messing about in her lab while she’s hiding at home.  She was trying to make herself a new lipstick.”

“I see,” George said slowly.  “You know Hermione is madly against the wonder witch line at all, don’t you?  Fre - I mean, we had to get rid of all the love potions after she threatened to tamper with them.  I wasn’t sure I was going to keep it going at all.”

“Well, she’s right.  Love potions are vile,” Pansy said, wrinkling her nose.  “Wow, first time I’ve ever agreed with Hermione Granger.  But what Daph and I were talking about was adding a bit of something to the makeup she’s been playing with.  You know, like… lipstick that gives you a tiny bit more confidence than it would anyway.  Magically enhanced mascara to make your eyes sparkle more.”  She batted her own eyelashes at him, and George temporarily forgot what they were talking about.

“You see,” Pansy continued, oblivious to his plight. “There’s not a lot of reason for women to come in here, particularly.  I mean, your stuff is cool, but I have personally never felt the lack of a punching telescope or a headless hat in my life, you know?  But my make-up coming with build in beauty charms, that’s worth checking out.”  She swirled off to scrutinse another rack of shelves.

“You don’t need them,” George managed to say to the empty space.

“Sorry?” Pansy called back.  “Did you say something?”

“I said we can talk about it once we’re organised,” George lied.  “If you get a proposal together and stuff,  I can try and remember how to be  a businessman.  What was your thinking, that you and Daphne would run it and I’d provide… what?”

“Potions advice, manufacturing and shelf space,” Pansy said immediately. “And we split the profits, obviously.”

“Obviously,” George repeated, but he wasn’t listening any more.  His entire mind was filled with pictures of Pansy, brewing samples in the basement lab.  Pansy, in the office arguing over pricing.  Pansy, comparing two almost identical shades of pink for the packaging.  Pansy, in his shop, long term. Pansy, in his arms.  Pansy, in his bed.  George covered his face with his palm and groaned.  Business sense be damned, he didn’t care what they wanted to suggest.  There was absolutely no way he was ever going to turn this proposal down.  He was, he considered, utterly fucked.  Somewhere, Fred was laughing his damn head off.

Chapter Text

George’s friends arrived through the Floo in a group on the Friday evening, boisterous and shouting.  Lee was waving a bottle of Ogden’s above his head, Katie appeared to have a tray of cakes, and Alicia was clutching several large bags of crisps.  Angelina came though last, and she looked thin and sad.  Pansy, loitering in the kitchen doorway, watched George cross the room to her and say something quietly.  She nodded, and they hugged for a long time.  Pansy felt a prickle of unease watching them, which she ruthlessly tamped down.  After a long moment, George stepped back and cleared his throat.

“Right you lot, shut it.  There’s someone I need to introduce you to.”

Alicia and Lee had piled on to the sofa.  Angelina perched on the edge of the armchair, and Katie had already dropped onto the rug.

“Who?” Alicia asked, curious.  George waved Pansy forward.

“This is Pansy.  You all know that.  She’s been the driving force behind getting this place back into a liveable state this week.”  There was a silence.  Pansy forced her chin up, and met their eyes steadily.  George’s hand was resting on the base of her spine, a single point of support in the face of the expected hostility.

“She’s Pansy Parkinson,” Katie said eventually.

“I know,” George began, but Pansy spoke over him, forcing her voice steady, refusing to betray the nerves.

“I probably owe you all apologies,” she began slowly.  “I definitely owe Angelina a few, and I’d like to say that I truly am sorry.  I was a vile person and I’ve had a whole lot of things to think about over the last month or so.  For the record, I love your hair, and I’m insanely jealous because mine doesn’t grow past my shoulders.  Please forgive me for every rude comment I made, if you can.”  Without waiting for a response, she turned to Katie,

“I don’t remember ever having any direct contact with you, and I’m certainly not the main person who owes you an apology anyway, but as Draco’s in Azkaban, and is my friend, please allow me to apologise on his behalf until he can do it himself - and believe me, he will, on his fucking knees if it pleases you. I’ll personally guarantee it.”  Katie’s lips twitched.

“Might be funny,” she admitted, even as Pansy turned again to face the pair on the sofa.  “You’ve been helping George?”

“She’s been a rock,” George said quietly.

“And this came about how?” Alicia enquired.

“He rescued me when the other shopkeepers and residents were throwing stones at me for walking down the street,” Pansy said bluntly.  Lee pursed his lips in a soundless whistle.

”Fuck,” he said quietly.  “I didn’t realise…”

“Didn’t realise that’s how they’d be treated?” George asked.  He was angry, Pansy realised, and she put a hand on his arm.  He gave her a brief smile, and moved closer to her.  “Seems like it is.  She’s only eighteen - her friends are either in Azkaban awaiting trial or scared to set foot out their houses.  I don’t know about you four, but we didn’t fight to put kids in prison, or have half bricks chucked at them because they tried to go to the damn bank!”

“No, we didn’t,” Angelina agreed.  “And neither did Fred.  He’d have been furious.”  She stood up, and held out a hand to Pansy.  “I forgive you, Parkinson - sorry, Pansy.  And thank you from all of us for looking after this one,” she jerked her head towards George.  “I expected to find him an absolute wreck tonight, and he looks almost normal.”

“He never looks normal,” Lee quipped, as the two girls shook hands.  “Especially since, you know -the whole ear thing.”  Angelina rolled her eyes at him and George made a rude hand gesture.

“Well said, Cap,” Alicia said cheerfully, elbowing Lee in the stomach for good measure.  “Pansy, welcome aboard.  George, get some damn glasses, will you?  Also, Katie, if you don’t take her up on that offer and have Malfoy on his knees - in public, please - I will probably never speak to you again.”

Pansy sat down tentatively on the love seat, curling her feet up under her, and listened.  George dropped down beside her, his thigh pressing against her knees, and joined in the conversation.  The little group, while obviously mourning their missing sixth, bantered and traded insults in the same way that the Slytherins did.  They were more openly affectionate, she noted, and they were clearly comfortable in each other’s company.  Comfortable enough to ask for favours that in Slytherin, would have cost them.

“George!” Lee yelled eventually, several drinks in. “I need a job, mate.  Can you give me one?”  George looked up from a large bowl of crisps that he was trying to balance on his chest.  The bowl immediately fell off.  Angelina, rolling her eyes, waved her wand and returned both bowl and crisps to the coffee table.

“Probably,” George replied, looking thoughtful and retrieving the bowl with a scowl at Angelina.  “I mean, I am planning to open up again, and I’m going to need someone here other than me.”

“Well, I can convince Alicia not to dump me, so I reckon I can convince schoolkids to buy your mad inventions,” Lee said cheerfully.  

Alicia aimed a slap at him.  “That could change at any time,” she warned him, laughing as he leaned over and kissed her loudly on the cheek.  “Get off, you drunken nightmare.”

“What about being the manager?” George asked.  

Lee blinked at him.  “Manager?  What about you?”

“I don’t do people,” George said.  “I’ll run the place, do product development, all that stuff.  You handle the staff, cover for me when I’m off, that sort of thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Who would be better?” George asked.  “I mean, you were basically our missing triplet, Lee.  You’re the only person I’d trust with it.”

“I… fuck,” Lee said, shakily.  “I don’t know what to say now.”

“He’ll take it,” Alicia said for him.  “Thanks, George.  You have no idea how much difference this will make.”

“Excellent,” George agreed.  “I’ll let you know when I’m opening up, yeah?”

”You don’t need a hand in advance?”  

George hesitated, then his eyes moved to Pansy.  “Nah, I think we’re good,” he said decidedly.  She smiled at him.

~

Pansy found herself in the kitchen, washing glasses with repeated flicks of her wand, when George returned from the Floo.

“All gone?” she asked.  He nodded and collapsed into a chair, resting his head on the table.  Pansy left the washing up to finish itself and moved to stand behind him, rubbing his neck and shoulders lightly.  “You OK?”

“Yeah.  Just… they’re a lot, you know?  I mean I love them, but it’s intense sometimes.  And it was harder tonight than it used to be.”  He moaned softly as her fingers moved over his shoulders, and she increased the pressure.

“Well,” she said slowly.  “There used to be two of you.”

George huffed a laugh.  “Yeah.  There’s that.”

“Was Angelina… you know?  With Fred? Was she who you meant when you spoke about him the other day?”  She felt him tense under her hands when she said Fred’s name and redoubled her efforts on his shoulders until he relaxed again.

“They were on-and-off for years.  Ultimately I think yeah, they’d have been together.”  George moaned again as Pansy’s thumbs dug into the back of his neck, and she moved up towards his hairline.

“What about you? Who did you date?”

“Me?  No-one, really.  Katie, for two weeks before we figured out that just because Fred and Angelina were together and Lee and Alicia were together, didn’t mean that we had to be together to finish the pattern.  A couple of others once or twice, normally when Fred or Lee set me up.  Wasn’t really my thing.  I’m not good at girls.  That was Fred’s area.”

“Prefer boys?” Pansy asked casually.  

George turned his head to look at her.  “No.  Just, you know.  Shit with women.  What about you, what’s your sordid history?”  Pansy laughed.

“Repetitive.  Draco.  Dumped him for staring at Granger’s arse at the Yule Ball when he should have been staring at mine.  Theo for a bit - fun, but so chaotic.  That ended extremely awkwardly.  He didn’t talk to me for months. Then Draco, after he grovelled.  Blaise, until he decided he preferred Daphne.  Draco, until a betrothal agreement messed it up.  Adrian Pucey for a few months, I liked him.  His parents sorted him a betrothal as well, so that was the end of that.  Then, surprise surprise, Draco, who seemed to have decided to damn betrothal arrangements and do whatever he wanted.  That lasted until he lost the plot and went all angsty and tried to kill the Headmaster.  We broke up in sixth year, just before Easter, for the last time.  No one in seventh year, it really wasn’t a romantic type of atmosphere.  Also, I was running out of Slytherins and dating outside my house was not going to happen, especially last year.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. No betrothal for you then?”

“No.  My father was talking about it when everything went to hell in May.  And then he went to Azkaban, so I’ve escaped.  Sacred 28 pure-blooded heiress, on the market.”

“Well, I imagine once the world settles down you’ll have a string of proposals,” George observed.  

Pansy shrugged.  “I’ll already have dated most of them.  And a good number of the possibilities from before are either married, dead or facing prison sentences.”

“I think Hermione’s working on Malfoy’s case,” George told her.  “Every chance he’ll be available.  Before this week I’d have said Merlin knows why she’s bothering, but you know… maybe if there’s one decent Slytherin, there’s more and we misjudged that pointy little shit as well.”

Pansy smirked.  “Yeah.  I refuse to marry Draco.  Between his drama and my drama we’d genuinely never be speaking to each other. And you’re right, he is a pointy little shit, but he’s not bad all the way down, as it were.  He’s decent when you dig.”

George laughed.  “I like your drama,” he admitted. “Brightens the day up a bit.  I never know what I’m going to get.  Are you fine, or has someone committed the unpardonable sin of making it rain while you were outside?  Am I safe to put these potions on this shelf, or am I about to contravene the latest design plan for the left hand wall?  Basically, it’s a permanent tightrope of will you like it, or will you hex me.  I’ve always enjoyed a bit of excitement.  Do you want another drink?”  

Pansy, laughing, looked at the clean glasses and shrugged.  “Sure, why not?”

They settled back on the sofa with their feet on the table and two large glasses of Firewhisky.  George tucked the bottle on the floor under his legs.

“Thanks for apologising to Angelina.  I know she didn’t say much, but I think she really appreciates it.  Can you really get Malfoy to kneel for Katie?”  Pansy glanced sideways at him and grinned, mimicking cracking a whip.  George snorted.  “Shame you didn’t  exert that sort of influence over him at school.”

“I didn’t realise until recently it was needed,” Pansy admitted.  “I did a lot of thinking in the last month.  Sure, we had some shitty parents who taught us shitty ideals, but ultimately, we didn’t have to believe them.  I don’t think we all did, anyway.  But I went along with it, and… well, that was stupid, frankly.  And I’m not too proud to apologise when it’s needed.  Once I would have been, but not now.”

“Well, it helped smooth things over tonight, so I appreciate it,” George said, dropping an arm casually around her shoulders.  Pansy leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Why did you turn Lee down when he offered to help you clear the place out?” she asked, after a while.  

George hesitated, downing the last of his firewhisky and pouring himself another glass.  “Honestly?” he asked eventually.  

She nodded.  “Please.”

“Because I didn’t want to give up spending time with just you,” he admitted.

“I was glad,” she replied.  “I didn’t want to give up spending time with just you either.  I would never have thought I’d have enjoyed this week, but I really have.”  

“Well, you kept coming back.  If it had been too bad, even the boredom wouldn’t have kept you away surely?”

“There is that.”

“I really appreciate it, you know that, yeah?  I think it would have been hell to try and do it myself, the way I planned at first.  And my family keep waiting for me to break.  They’re all walking on eggshells around me.  You don’t do that.  You’re just there.  And when I break, you pick me up and we start over.   It’s refreshing.”

“George?”

“What?”

“Are you going to kiss me yet?  I know you’ve been thinking about it, and I strongly suspect that’s why you’ve just downed two firewhiskys.”

George grinned down at her, but denied neither of these accusations.  “Do you want me to?”

She wriggled out from under his arm and twisted, throwing her leg over his so that she was straddling his lap.  “You’d better,” she retorted.  “Otherwise this is going to get really embarrassing.”  She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him up towards her.  He came easily, meeting her lips gently at first and then with increasing passion.  Eventually, she pulled away.

“In your… limited… dating experience, I’m presuming you never got as far as having sex?”  George flushed a bright scarlet that clashed horribly with his hair, and shook his head.  Pansy, still straddling his lap, rolled her hips on top of his hardness, bringing a groan from him.  “We’re not going to tonight,” she told him, triggering a disappointed whine.  She grinned.  “No one deserves to have sex for the first time while drunk.  However, given this very impressive presence here,” she ground herself against him a few more times, her own eyes fluttering shut as she did so.  “Given all this,” she resumed, “I feel justified in telling you I give absolutely the best blowjobs.”  George made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a squeak.

“I don’t have any experience of them either, but I’m happy to let you set the baseline,” he gasped.  Pansy rolled her hips a few more times and then got up.

“Bedroom,” she instructed.  George scrambled after her as she headed towards it.  Once inside, however, he looked at her nervously, biting his lip.  Pansy took charge, walking towards him and pulling his tshirt off.  “Strip,” she said quietly.  “And lie on the bed.”

George obeyed, stretching out on top of the bed, fully naked.  Pansy’s eyes roamed over him openly, making him blush.

“Of all the quidditch players I’ve been with,” she said thoughtfully, running her hand down his arm, “I like beaters best.  You have got the most incredible arms and shoulders.”  George grinned at her, and caught her hand, pulling her down beside him.

“Why are you not naked when I am?” he asked, kissing her.  Pansy returned the kiss, and scrambled back up, slipping off her jeans and top.  George’s eyes roamed hungrily over her and his erection twitched.  “You are fucking incredible,” he said hoarsely.  Pansy posed for a moment, and then climbed onto the bottom of the bed, smiling up at him.

“Ready for this?” she asked, tracing one finger up the length of his hardness.  George moaned in response.

“Please,” he managed.  Pansy smiled.

“Are you begging for me, George Weasley?”

“Fuck yes,” he replied, unashamedly.  Pansy lowered her head and took him into her mouth, sucking gently, as one of her hands gently fondled his balls.  He groaned again.  “Fucking hell Pansy,” he gasped.  She pulled off and smirked at him.

“Told you I was good.”  Then she lowered her head and took him as far into her mouth as she could, until he was nudging at the back of her throat, bobbing her head repeatedly.  He was moaning continually now, and as she swallowed around him she felt him convulse, his shoulders coming up off the bed.  She pulled off, wiping her mouth.

“Close?” she asked, panting for breath slightly.

“Fuck,” George gasped.  “So close, Pansy, fuck!”

“Do you want to come in my mouth?” Pansy asked, still keeping her voice low.  There was only a moan, and a desperate nod in response this time.  She lowered her head again, once again swallowing him as deeply as she could.  This time, it took mere seconds before she felt his hands grasp frantically at her head and he spilled himself directly into her throat.  She swallowed, and pulled away, breathing heavily.

George waved an arm in her direction and she crawled up the bed to collapse beside him, kissing him deeply.

“I should… reciprocate,” he said, his voice already slurring.  She put a finger over his lips.

“Sleep,” she said, quietly.  “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” George agreed, already more than half asleep.  Pansy pulled the covers over them both and then curled up in George’s arms.

George woke slowly the next morning, as though he’d slept far deeper than he was used to.  As he gradually regained consciousness, he became aware that firstly, he was naked, secondly, there was someone else in his bed, and thirdly, he was extremely hard.  Opening his eyes, he found himself looking into the sleeping face of Pansy Parkinson, in her black lace underwear, and the previous evening came back to him in a rush that made his already hard erection throb desperately.  He trailed one hand down her ribs, stopping at her hip.  She stirred, stretched - rubbing herself against him in a way that felt glorious - and opened her eyes.

“Morning,” he said, smiling.

She smiled back.  “You woke me up,” she accused.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m struggling to keep my hands off you, and feeling you up while you sleep makes me more than a bit creepy, no?”  Pansy stretched out languidly.

“Feel away,” she said.  George availed himself of the permission immediately, hands and lips exploring every inch of her exposed skin.  Pansy moaned happily.  After some time, she opened her eyes to find him hovering beside her, once again scarlet.  “What is it?” she asked.  He swallowed.

“Tell me what to do,” he said, blushing even more furiously.  “I…” Pansy raised a finger to his lips.

“Between my legs,” she murmured, spreading them helpfully.  “Fingers or mouth, your choice.”  George moved his hand immediately, smiling when she groaned at the contact.  “That’s it,” she continued.  “Use me to lubricate your fingers and then rub over my clit.  Here,” she added, moving his hand with her own.  George did as instructed, after a few moments taking the opportunity to return his mouth to her breasts, nipping and sucking at them through the bra.  It did not seem to take long before Pansy had gasped “Oh George, fuck!” and then her whole body seized as she moaned aloud.  George watched her, fascinated, until she opened her eyes again.

“That seemed to work,” he said.  Pansy smirked back at him.

“Oh it worked and then some.  I can’t believe I get a man with no preconceived notions of what I should like, and I get to teach him exactly what I do like,” she said.  “You’re incredible, Weasley.  I’m keeping you.”  George rested his head against her shoulder.

“It still feels ridiculous when I’m bloody twenty,” he grumbled. “I should have done this by now.”

Pansy wriggled out of her knickers and bra, and found her wand to cast a contraceptive charm.  “Well, best get on with it then,” she said when this was done, pulling him over on top of her.  

George propped himself up on his elbows.  “Fair warning, I’m about to fucking explode,” he said, laughing.  

Pansy shrugged. “Just as well you already got me off then, isn’t it?” she grinned.  “Go on… unless you want me on top?”

“Fuck.  Stop saying things like that.”  George glanced down to line himself up, and pressed forward into her.  He stopped almost at once, and groaned.  “Fucking hell Pansy.  You feel incredible.”

“Keep going,” she urged, tilting her hips up to help him.  “Look at me.  Come on.”  She had her hand on his cheek, watching the expression on his face as he pushed in more until he was fully inside her.  Then she pulled him down and kissed him hard.  “You feel fucking amazing,” she whispered.  “Now, for God’s sake fuck me.”  George laughed and moaned at the same time, then pulled back and thrust into her again.  “That’s it,” Pansy said, encouragingly.  “Again.”

“I can’t, Pansy.  I’m…”

“That’s ok.  That’s the point.”

“But…”

“Weasley.  Shut up and fuck me.”  George huffed a laugh, and obliged, driving into her harder until, with a roar and a final thrust, he spilled himself inside her and collapsed on top of her, face buried in her neck.  Pansy ran her hands up and down his sides and back.

“Fucking hell,” he said eventually, rolling off her and settling on to the bed beside her instead.  Pansy grinned.  “Sorry it was so quick,” he said awkwardly.

“It was longer than I expected,” Pansy replied honestly.  George laughed.  “My first time,” she said, conspiratorially, “Was not actually my first time, because he got there before he even got inside.   My second first time - with a different guy, I should stress, the first one couldn’t look me in the face for months afterwards - lasted about five seconds, though I’ll admit he at least managed to get it in.  You’ve definitely got potential.  You just need practice.”

“Fuck.  I am all in favour of practice,” George said firmly.  “And I probably shouldn’t ask this, but how many guys have you had for their first time?  It sounds like you make a habit of this.”

“Are we counting the first time?” Pansy asked, still grinning.  George nodded.

“Yes, ‘cos the poor bloke must have been mortified.  I’ll be honest, I was fucking terrified I was going to do the same thing.”

“Four, now.” Pansy said, after a moment’s thought.  George nodded and bent to kiss her.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad it was you,” he said.  She blushed.

“So am I.”

Chapter Text

8th July 1997

At the end of the first day of the search for Theo, the group took themselves to the nearest pub, a sense of despair falling over them even as Daphne lectured them firmly on not expecting results on the first day and reminded them that there was plenty of time.  Pansy and George were bickering idly over the best areas to tackle the next day, and whether or not they were correct in describing Theo as a missing person.  Hermione and Ginny were discussing the possibility of releasing the photo of Theo they’d found to the Muggle newspapers, and when this would be appropriate.  Hermione was concerned that, while vastly increasing the number of people looking, this would alert the Ministry to what they were doing far sooner than anyone really wanted to.  They had just settled themselves in a booth when she broke off mid word and stared across the room.

“End of the bar,” she said weakly.  “Someone tell me that’s not…Nott?”

“Fucking hell, I think it is,” Pansy replied, craning her neck to see.   Ginny stood up.  The man at the end of the bar had his back to their table, and as they watched him, pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and wove it idly between his fingers.

“That’s him!” Pansy, Daphne and Hermione all spoke together.  “He used to do that in classes with his wand all the damn time,” Pansy added.  “Drove us all mad.”  Ginny, however, wasn’t listening.  She climbed over George’s legs, smoothed down her hair, and set off for the bar.

She slid onto the stool beside the man, who glanced casually at her as she did so.  Ginny’s heart turned over, but she managed to restrain herself to a pleasant smile and a nod as she ordered a glass of wine.  For his part, Theo was staring at her in what appeared to be complete shock.

“Are you ok?” she asked eventually, once she had her drink.  He made an incomprehensible noise, and downed half his pint in one go, then tried again.

“I don’t think so.  I’m really not sure how to say this without sounding like an absolute creep,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “But… I’ve dreamt about you.  Every night for weeks.  Do you find that weird? I literally see your face in my dreams, and now you’re right here in front of me.  I am coming across like a creep, aren’t I?”  Ginny grinned, delighted at this development.

“In normal circumstances, yes,” she said honestly.  “But… can I tell you a story?  If I trust you when you say you’ve been dreaming about me, and I don’t have you thrown out for the worst chat-up lines known to womankind, can you trust me enough to hear me out?”  He nodded eagerly, and Ginny began the long and convoluted tale.

 Once she’d finished talking, he nodded slowly.

“Bits of it feel… familiar,” he said.  “Like it’s a story someone once told me a long time ago?  Are those your - well, I suppose our - friends over there?  They’re staring.”  

She nodded.  “They were all in your year at school - except my brother, he’s just here because he’s dating Pansy,” she explained.  

Theo frowned.  “Pansy’s the short one with the black hair?”  

Ginny stared at him, hopeful.  “Do you remember her?”

“No.  But when you said ‘Pansy’ I looked at her and I realised that she had to be Pansy.  I don’t know why.  She just… is.”

“What about the blonde girl?” Ginny asked eagerly.  “What’s her name?”  

He shook his head.  “I have no idea, sorry.”

“What about Hermione?  Do you know which one she is?”

“She’s not the blonde,” Theo said firmly.  “That doesn’t feel right at all.  So she must be the curly one.  I’m sorry, but can we back up a second please?  Are you really honestly my girlfriend?”  

Ginny laughed delightedly.  “I am,” she confirmed.  Theo’s eyes ran over her, and she was gratified to see the expression of desire appear on his face.

“Did I know what a lucky bastard I was?” he asked quietly.  Ginny beamed.

“I like to think so,” she said.  “You believe me, then?”

“Well it’s either true, or I’m about to be scammed by the most beautiful lunatic I’ve ever met,” he said cheerfully.  “If it’s the second situation, I’m not sure I’m actually too bothered.  Always up for an adventure, me.  How about you introduce me to my friends?”

A somewhat confused hour later, all of them were in a hotel room which was currently doubling as Theo’s home.  When questioned, he informed them calmly and almost automatically that he’d just moved to the city thanks to a new job, and was staying there until he found a flat.  When Hermione handed him the electric kettle and asked him how to use it, he stared from her to the kettle in puzzlement.  When Daphne asked him about his new job, the puzzled expression deepened.

“It’s like he knows the answers to some questions by rote, but other things he hasn’t a clue about,” Pansy said, sounding like she was observing an animal in the zoo.

“Why has the charm only half worked on him?” Ginny asked, taking the kettle back off Theo, who was opening and closing it repeatedly, and putting it down.  Hermione drew herself up.

“I have two theories,” she began, drawing the attention of the rest of the group.  Ginny sighed internally and prepared for a lecture, “The first is that the charm was cast by someone who wasn’t very good at it.  That’s probably the most likely case, as I don’t suppose they wanted to bring in an Unspeakable for this and publicise it too widely.”

“I want to be an Unspeakable,” Theo said, then looked surprised.  He glanced at Ginny.  “Do I?”  

She giggled.  “Yes, you do,” she agreed.  

Theo looked proud.  “Cool.  What’s an Unspeakable?”

“My second theory,” Hermione continued, with a stern glance at them, “Is that he was focusing so hard on something - or, more likely, someone - when they cast the charm that it wasn’t possible to fully wipe them from his memory.  I found a paper in the archives discussing that as a possibility.  I think that was probably you, Gin.  And if they couldn’t fully wipe you out, then there will be residual memories attached to you that he will be recalling.  Eventually, with enough stimulus, he’d probably remember everything.  I’d love to be able to study it in more detail, to be honest.”

“What sort of stimulus?” Ginny asked eagerly.

 George groaned.  “I don’t think I want to hear the answer to this.”

“Well, if you knew what memory he was focusing on when they wiped his mind, stimulating that memory would help to awaken others.”  

Ginny grinned, and turned to Theo.  “Up for a few more minutes of memory loss to help Hermione’s future thesis, love?”  

Theo looked thoughtful.  “Will I enjoy it?”

“You did the first time,” Ginny said.

“Gin, you can’t possibly know exactly what he was thinking about when they wiped his memory,” George protested.

 Ginny sighed at him. “Do you know how long Theo and I had together as an actual couple?” she asked.  “Ten minutes.  That’s all.  Malfoy managed to get us ten minutes so we could tell each other how we felt.  Theo’s smart.  Smarter than almost anyone.  If anyone was going to know how to have even the faintest chance of reversing this, he would.  And he would cling on desperately to the one memory that he knows I would know.  Anyway, I’m about to prove that I’m right.  You might want to turn away, brother dear.”

She backed up until she was against the wall, pulling Theo into place in front on her.  “This might feel awkward, but trust me - we’ve done it before,” she murmured, pulling him close to her.  She placed his right hand on her breast, causing him to blush slightly and George to make a noise that was hastily smothered by Pansy slapping her hand over his mouth.  “Your left arm round my waist,” Ginny instructed, placing her own hands on Theo’s chest.  “Now, hold me tight and kiss me like you might never see me again.”

Theo obliged, and Ginny moaned with pleasure at the almost perfect recreation of their kiss on the train.  She felt him hardening against her with a small thrill of pride.  Theo broke away, breathless, his eyes still closed.

“Where are we?” Ginny asked immediately.

“The Hogwarts Express,” Theo replied automatically, then grabbed her tighter.  “I don’t want to leave!  Don’t let them do it, Ginny, please!”  She hugged him tightly.

“It’s OK.  No one is going to do anything to you again.  Hermione’s going to fix you now, love, OK?”  He nodded, his face buried in her neck.  She could feel the dampness of tears against her skin.  “Right, that’s enough experimenting.  All of you, out,” she ordered.  “I don’t know how this goes but I don’t imagine it’s easy and he’s already had a hell of a day.  You’ll see us tomorrow.”

“You’re staying with him?” George asked.  Ginny glared at him.

“I’m never leaving his side again,” she snapped.  “Pansy, do me a favour and knock some sense into my brother before he stops being my favourite, would you?” Daphne and Pansy chased George out of the room, Daphne calling over her shoulder to Hermione that she would book them a room to share.  With most of the group gone, Theo raised a tear-stained face from Ginny’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I don’t even know…”

“The first time we did that,” Ginny explained for both him and Hermione, “You were on your way to get marked.  There was no way out for you.  Recreating the memory probably also recreated the emotions which, once we got past the arousal, were mostly terror.”

“Marked?” Theo asked.  He pulled up the sleeve of his jumper where the dark mark sat, grey and faded, on his arm.  “This?  I don’t even like looking at this.  I don’t remember what it is, but I know I hate it.”

“You do,” Ginny agreed.  “You always did.  Hermione, can we do this please?  It’s not fair to drag it out any further.”

“Lie on the bed,” Hermione said.  “From what I’ve read, the return of the memories will come with a torrent of emotions, and it’s easier to deal with if you can’t physically go anywhere.  Gin, you should stay with him.”  They settled themselves on the bed, still holding hands tightly.  “I’m going to cast this then I’m going to leave, OK?”  Hermione told Theo. “It’ll just be Ginny with you.  Close your eyes now.”  Theo obeyed, but Ginny watched curiously as Hermione began a long, complex cast.  Streams of silver mist that looked like memories formed around her, swirling through the air.  Beside her, she could feel Theo trembling slightly and she squeezed his hand reassuringly.  Finally, with a long flourish and a longer spell cast, Hermione finished the spell and all the streams of memory flew towards Theo.  He was very still.  Hermione gave Ginny a smile and a wave, and left the room silently.

“Theo?” Ginny asked, tentatively.  He opened his eyes and blinked at her, then smiled broadly.

“Hi, love.”

“Do you remember everything?”  There was a long pause.

“Everything,” Theo repeated.  “It worked, didn’t it?  I’d read a theory that giving one memory your entire focus while you had it wiped meant that you’d hold on to traces.  I knew they were doing it, and I knew you would know what memory I’d used if you ever found me.”

“I was always going to find you,” Ginny said, “We promised, remember?”  Theo nodded, and then rolled towards her, burying his face in her shoulder again.

“Merlin, Ginny, I remember.  I remember everything,” he managed, before curling into her, trembling as he processed the wave of memories and emotions.  Ginny could think of nothing to say in response.  She held him, silently, stroking her fingers through his hair until they both fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

When Ginny woke, it was dark.  At some point during the night, they had moved so that she was now cocooned in Theo’s arms, and he held her tightly against him as if he thought she might be ripped from him at any moment.  More interestingly, from Ginny’s immediate perspective, was that he was very hard, and pressed firmly against her bum.  She wriggled it, curiously, and Theo groaned.

“Don’t,” he begged.

“Don’t try and tell me you’re not interested,” Ginny said sleepily.  Theo gave a rough laugh.

“I am so interested, that if you wriggle about much more I’m going to come in my trousers and that would be a terrible waste,” he admitted.  “I’ve woken up from dreaming that you were sucking my cock to find out that you are actually here, and then remembering all the things that happened yesterday and that you’re actually mine.  And that’s made everything quite a lot more urgent than I want it to be.”

Ginny grinned and slipped out of bed.  “Well, you can work on that while I take care of some things,” she suggested, disappearing into the bathroom.  She was still in her clothes, so she removed most of them and by the time she re-emerged in just a t-shirt and her knickers,  Theo looked slightly less strained.  He looked her over wantonly, and stood up to strip off his own clothes.  Ginny, meanwhile, pulled back the bedcovers and climbed in.  Theo did the same, and then pulled her on top of him so that they were face to face.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about this?” he asked, kissing her.  Ginny shook her head.  “Every damn night since the start of the Easter holidays.  Sometimes more than once,” he explained.  “I both want to take all night about this, and to fuck you immediately.”  Ginny grinned, her hands finding their way to his arse and squeezing gently.

“Just do it,” she instructed.  “We’ve got the rest of our lives to take our time.  It’s three in the morning, and neither of us wants to wait.”  Theo moaned in response as she moved against him.

“I’ve been waiting for months,” he agreed, sitting up to pull off Ginny’s t-shirt and knickers, then shoving down his own boxers.  “You’re right.  We can do slow later.  Shit, I don’t have my wand.”

“I’ve got mine,” Ginny said, grabbing it from the bedside table and casting a contraceptive charm.  “I’m on the potion anyway - I’m half fucking Prewett, and I’m taking no damn chances.”  Theo laughed in agreement.

“You have done this before, love, yeah?” he checked.  Ginny paused, and Theo swore.

“Gin, I can’t.  Not like this, come on.  Not your first time.”

“It’s not my first time,” Ginny said, reassuringly.  “Just… my second.  And my first time was a long time ago.  Before I met you and fell in love in about ten fucking seconds and you ruined me for anyone else.  So please, Theo - do it.  You’re not the only one who has been waiting for months.”

“Sure?”

“Do it, Theo.”

He thrust into her in one movement, and they both moaned at the sensation.  Theo dropped his forehead to Ginny’s for a second, breathing hard.

“It’s been a while for me too,” he admitted.  “This is not going to take long.”

“Just move,” Ginny replied, rolling her hips towards him.  

Obediently, Theo pulled back and thrust back into her, provoking another deep moan.  Ginny’s fingers slipped between their bodies, adding to her own pleasure, and Theo sped up as he felt her begin to tighten around him.  “Are you close, love?  You feel close.  Fuck, I hope you are.”  He increased his pace, thrusting into her furiously until, with a cry, he felt her tighten around him like a vice, triggering his own orgasm at the same time.  He collapsed beside her, breathing heavily, and then hauled himself up on one elbow to kiss any part of her he could reach.  “Never. Leaving. You. Again.” he said, punctuating his words with kisses.  “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“Our nights on the balcony in the charms corridor feel like a different life,” Ginny agreed.  “It was only four months ago.”

“And in those four months I’ve been tortured, re-found my best mate, fought a war, I’ve been to prison, had my memory wiped and restored…” Theo added.  “I mean it, Ginny.  I never want to be apart from you again.  You have been in my mind constantly, even in bloody Azkaban.  Do you know how awkward it is waking up hard for you when I was cuddled up to Draco for warmth?”  Ginny burst out laughing at this unexpected ending, and hugged him.

“Don’t worry,” she said, into his chest.  “I’ve no intention of being apart from you either.  I told you many times - you’re not getting rid of me.  When I didn’t think I would ever see you again, when Hermione read that letter, I realised that anything I’d felt before was nothing compared to that pain.  It felt like I’d had my heart ripped out on the spot.  I genuinely almost picked a fight with Hermione, just to hide how terrible I was feeling.  I love you, Theodore Nott.  I love you so much.”

She waited for a few second, and was just beginning to think she’d made a terrible mistake when she felt a drip hit her face.  She sat up, concerned, and regarded her weeping boyfriend.  Then she realised.

“Hang on - is this one of those things that doesn’t happen to Theo Nott?” she asked, softly.  “I’m right, aren’t I?  This is like the hug situation, and telling you you were brave enough to be in Gryffindor.  I’ve gone and triggered feelings in the man who tried to turn himself into an emotionless statue again.”  He nodded sheepishly, still crying, and Ginny wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him in towards her breasts.  “Listen to me,” she said, still speaking softly.  “I do love you.  And I can promise you, Theo, I am not the only person.  I don’t care how seldom  you’ve heard it, I’ll tell you ten times a day until you believe me, OK?”  He nodded, calming slightly.  “Daphne loves you.  She said you were one of her best friends.  Pansy loves you too, she’s given up everything she was doing to come and find you.  I don’t know Blaise, but Theo, Draco almost blew his damn cover to give you the opportunity he didn’t get.  He definitely loves you, and I don’t care if your idiotic stiff upper lip Slytherin sensibilities don’t let you acknowledge that.”  

Theo laughed damply, drying his face on the sheet.  “That probably wasn’t the response you were looking for,” he said wryly.  

Ginny’s lips twitched.  “Not really.”  She lay down, pulling him down beside her and turning out the light.  “Come on.  Let’s get some more sleep.  Then we can have more sex before breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” Theo said.  Then he took a deep breath, and spoke into the darkness.  “You know I love you too though, don’t you?  Like, insanely?”

Ginny nodded against his chest.  “I know, love.  Go to sleep.”

9^th July 1998

“So, Paris or Rome?” Pansy asked, yawning, over breakfast the next morning.  “We’re on a roll now!”

“Why not both?” Theo asked, eating a huge breakfast enthusiastically.  “I mean, I get all of you coming looking for me because I am just so damn fabulous, but time is of the essence here, no?”  He glanced at Hermione, who nodded her head.  “So there’s six of us now.  Pans, Daph and Weasley go to Rome and try to track Blaise down, and Hermione, me, and my gorgeous girlfriend here will go to Paris and try to find Drama fucking Malfoy.”

“But we need Hermione to cast the spell,” Daphne objected.  Theo rolled his eyes, and pointed his fork at George.

“He’s a full grown wizard!  Finished school and everything!”

“Erm…” George began, sheepishly.  Theo thought for a moment.

“Oh yes.  You didn’t.  I remember.  Very impressive exit though, I have to say.  Top marks for flair and impact. Officially more drama than Draco.  Anyway, are you telling me you can’t do the spell?”

“I can show you, if neither Daphne nor Pansy want to do it,” Hermione offered.  Both girls shook their heads frantically.

“If you want Blaise’s memories back, rather than, you know, his hair died blonde or his ears vanished, I wouldn’t leave it to Daph and Pansy,” Theo observed through a mouthful of sausage.  Both girls glared at him.

“Fuck you, Theo,” Pansy snapped.  He shrugged.

“Am I wrong?”

“You don’t have to go bloody announcing that we’re useless,” Daphne scowled.  “Not that we are.  We just had the misfortune to be in a house where everyone is either an insane fucking genius, like you and Draco, or a troll like Greg and Vince.  Not being the one doesn’t automatically make us the other.”

“My point is,” Theo repeated, patiently, “That Weasley is the best option to cast the damn spell.  You agreed with me.  I’m right!  Why are you still shouting?”

“At least if we go to Rome we don’t have to deal with you,” Pansy complained.  “Honestly, Ginny, I don’t get why you want him.”  Ginny shrugged.

“I don’t get why you want George,” she replied.

“Don’t drag me into this,” George said warningly.  “I like Nott’s plan, not least because it puts me in a different country from the one where’s he’s fucking my damn sister.  Let’s do it.”

Theo waved his fork between George and Pansy.  “Pot.  Kettle,” he said.

“Behave, Theo, you and I are not siblings.  That would make some really weird and uncomfortable history.” Pansy sighed.

“Technically, no, it wouldn’t,”  Theo said thoughtfully, and Pansy, after a second, gave an accepting nod and shrug.

“Fine,  I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“Wait,” George interrupted this, his eyes narrowing.  “Is he… one of the four?”

“One of the four what?” Theo asked.  Pansy ignored him, and merely shot George a small smirk.

“Not… technically,” she said, stressing the word.  “But yes.” George’s eyes widened.

“OK, I see now.”

“Well, I’m glad someone fucking does,” Ginny interjected.  “Either enlighten the room or change the subject.”

“Change the subject,” Theo growled, warningly.  “You fucking promised, Pansy!”

Pansy blew him a kiss.  “We go with Theo’s plan.  Daph and I will go and get international portkeys,” she said briskly.  “I travelled regularly anyway before the war, so no one will bat an eye if I tell them we’re taking a shopping holiday.”

“I’ll get Lee to oversee the shop,” George said.  “I’ll tell him I’m going away for a bit.  He won’t ask awkward questions.  He’s good like that.”

Pansy nodded her agreement to this.  “Yeah, Lee won’t care.  Theo, get a map of Paris and start working out where Draco’s likely to have gone from where they dropped him.  Hermione has the exact location.  And then do the same for Blaise,” Pansy ordered.  “You’ve probably got a better idea of how they think than the rest of us.”

“I refuse to admit to any knowledge of the inner workings of Draco’s mind,” Theo muttered.  “But I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll sort out supplies for both groups and take George through the charm,” Hermione offered.  “I’ll make us a bigger bunch of linked journals, that way we can keep in touch.”  Pansy nodded approvingly.

“What about me?” Ginny asked.  There was a pause.

”Get me my wand back?” Theo suggested.  She looked at him in disbelief.

“Where is it?”

“Aurors took it.”

“And how do you expect me to get it back?”  He shrugged.

“Try Potter,” he suggested.  “Flutter your eyelashes at him. See what you can do.”  Ginny sighed.

“Fine, I’ll give it a shot.  Don’t know why you can’t buy one in Paris.”

“It was my mum’s,” Theo said quietly.  “I was lucky that it liked me too.”

Ginny looked stricken.  “Leave it with me, love.”

“Maybe, while you’re doing that, Miss Underage, you can also pop home and explain to Mum and Dad that you’re running off to Paris with your Death Eater boyfriend,” George suggested casually.  This appeared to be the conversational equivalent of a hand grenade.  Both Pansy and Daphne reached for their wands.  Hermione’s mouth opened in a soundless gasp.  Ginny glared at him and Theo seemed to crumple in on himself, his right hand rubbing compulsively at his left arm.  Ginny’s eyes flicked from Theo to George and back again.

“Hey,” she said softly, putting her hand on top of Theo’s.  “Don’t.  He’s an idiot, he can’t help it.  You’re not a Death Eater.  We all know that.”  He didn’t look up and she shot George a glare that rivaled their mother at her best.

“I fucking told you!” she snapped.  George, to his credit, looked penitent.

“Sorry, Nott,” he said slowly.  Theo nodded, still refusing to meet anyone’s eye.  Ginny took his hand.

“You’re an arse,” she informed her brother, coldly, as she pulled Theo to his feet.  “Come on, Theo.  Come and help me work out a plan to break in to the Ministry, again.  Honestly, at this point I’ll have a longer charge sheet than any bloody Death Eater!”

~

It was two days later before the Auror trainees were back at  the Ministry.  This time, Ginny was in the atrium when they appeared for lunch and, much to her delight, Harry spotted her at once and made his way over.  To her further joy, Ron was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey!” Harry sounded delighted, and Ginny felt vaguely guilty.  “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Ginny replied truthfully.  She saw Harry blush furiously and deliberately ignored the new surge of guilt.  “Where’s Ron? Want to do lunch?”

“Sure!  Only… I don’t have too long, so is the cafeteria OK?  Ron was in the other group, I guess they haven’t finished yet if he hasn’t come through.  He’ll be furious if he misses his lunch, you know how he gets.”  

Ginny smiled.  “I do.  The cafeteria will be perfect.  I just thought we should catch up, you know?  We can still be friends, after all.”  Harry gave her a look that telegraphed that he would like to be far more than just friends, but she calmly packed it into the same mental box as the guilt, to be dealt with later.

They made their way to the cafeteria, collected their food and looked for seats, Ginny managing to keep up a flow of small talk while they did so.  It wasn’t until after they had finished eating that she saw her chance.  Harry left his wand and his brand new security pass lying on the table while he cleared up their dishes, and Ginny wasted no time in transfiguring a duplicate from her Weasley’s Wizard Weezes name badge, and pocketing the original.  The duplicate wouldn’t work, of course, but she counted on being far away by the time that was discovered.

As soon as Harry, with an awkward hug, had returned to work, Ginny slipped into an empty corridor, disillusioned herself, and headed for the evidence stores. She’d spent her morning, also disillusioned, watching people come and go until she was sure she knew what to do.

With no time to waste, she swiped Harry’s pass in the doorway and beamed when it opened.  Summoning the file relating to Theo was the work of a moment, and she had extracted his wand and was returning it to it’s space when she heard voices.  She froze for a second, and then as the lock clicked and the door handle began to turn she hurried behind the end row of shelves and crouched on the floor.

“See, Harry?  It works fine!”  Ginny groaned at her brother’s voice and squeezed back further into her corner.

“Weird.  Mine didn’t.  Dolohov we were to find, wasn’t it?”

“Mmm.  Listen, Harry?  D’you think once we’re done with training I should have another try at Hermione?  I mean, she’s got to be missing us, right?  Maybe she’ll have changed her mind.”

“I dunno, mate.  I had lunch with Ginny today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she was friendly and stuff.  It was a bit awkward, but you know, OK.  Maybe we are better as friends, same as you and Hermione.”

“Nah.  Ginny’s been in love with you for years.  I’ll talk to her when we’re done with this, she’ll see sense.”

“I’m not sure, Ron.  Have you found Dolohov yet?  They’re timing us, remember?”

“Who cares?  We saved the damn world.  We could take all day and all we’d get is a slightly disappointed smile.  But yes, I’ve found it.”

Ginny stopped listening as a box beside her head caught her eye.  It was separate from the rest of the evidence boxes, and there was no case number printed on the side.  Instead, in big letters, someone had written ‘B. Zabini.  Personal Posessions.’  As she lifted her hand to slide it out, there was a noise and Harry came round the end of the shelves.

“It really is a mess in here,” Ron was observing from near the door.  Harry, however, sniffed sharply.  “What are  you doing?  Come on!”

“I thought I smelled something,” Harry said distantly.  He looked suspiciously at the space before him.  Ginny held her breath.

“Just come on, would you?” Ron complained from the doorway.  “If we do this fast enough, maybe Dawlish will let me go and grab a sandwich before the next session.” With a final, suspicious look, Harry allowed Ron to drag him away.

~

“Granger?”  Hermione, deep in a note-taking session at George’s kitchen table, glanced up from her work?

“Hmm?”

“I want you to go and hire a lawyer,” Theo said, sounding unusually serious.  Hermione crossed over to where he was sitting on the sofa, staring into space.

“What for?  And with what?”

“To defend me and Draco, to get justice for Blaise… but mostly for Draco.  Get the best one you can. I’ll pay, obviously.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t really done anything wrong,” Theo said.  “Between Ginny, Longbottom, Finnegan and… oh!” He paused, and disappeared into George’s spare room, where he had been staying, returning a few seconds later with a slip of parchment.  “Do you know what to do with this?”  Hermione looked at it.

“Theo… is this a phone number?”

“Yes!” he said, sounding delighted that she’d recognised it.  “You do… whatever… with it, and you speak to a muggle girl that Draco and I saved from Malfoy Manor the day you were… you know.”  He coughed delicately.

“Tortured, Theodore.  I know the word.”

“Yes, that.  Anyway, she said that she would come and testify for us.  Her name was Kelly.  So between all of that, I genuinely didn’t break any laws.  At least, not except the new one that says ‘You must not have a Dark Mark’, and frankly I didn’t have any choice there.  But Draco… Hermione, Draco plotted to kill Dumbledore.”

“I am aware,” Hermione replied.  

Theo looked tense. “I’m scared they’re going to make an example out of him.”  

Hermione nodded. “Me too.  OK.  Give me the Gringotts details, and I’ll go and hire the best lawyer I can find and give them everything I have.  I’ll also phone your muggle.  Once Ginny brings your wand back, I should teach you how to do that charm as well,” Hermione said, as if working through a mental list.  Theo frowned.

“Why?  You’ll be casting it.  There’s no call for me to worry my pretty little head about it.”

Hermione sighed at the flippant tone.  “I’m not coming to Paris, Theo.  I can’t afford it.”  He looked up sharply and she shrugged apologetically.  “I spent all my savings last year when we were hiding out.  I’ve barely got enough money to manage my final year at Hogwarts - I’m hoping Professor McGonagall can help me out with some second hand books and things from the school stock, and hopefully my sixth year robes will still fit.  You and Ginny can find him.  He’s your best friend, after all.”

“No,” Theo began, “I’ll…” but she shook her head frantically.

“No, Theo, I won’t have you throwing Galleons around.  You barely know me, and it wouldn’t be right to be spending...”

“Granger, shut up.” The instruction - and the tone -  shocked Hermione and, cut off mid-sentence, she gaped at him.  “Sit down.” Theo continued.  Hermione obeyed automatically.  “Now, you are about to make me be very sensible and serious, both of which I are conditions that I am fundamentally opposed to, do you understand?  So I’m only going to say this once.

“I am in love with your best friend.  My best friend is in love with you.  You returned my memories and gave me Ginny back.  You’re going to do the same for Draco and get me my friend back.  In case you haven’t worked it out, we’re part of the same gang now.  We’re family, and I owe you, Hermione Granger, so much more than some fucking galleons, do you understand?  I have more money than I can spend in ten lifetimes.  It’s just sitting there in Gringotts, gathering dust.  You are coming to Paris, you are going back to Hogwarts with the best robes and equipment money can buy, and if I hear one word of an argument I’ll obliviate myself all over again and make you start over, do you understand?”  She nodded silently, tears in her eyes.  Theo sighed.

“Now, as an honorary Gryffindor, I’m contractually obliged to give you a sodding hug.  Honestly,” he continued much more lightly as he slid towards her and wrapped his arms around her, “I don’t know what it is with you lions.  You’re as touchy-feely as the bloody Hufflepuffs.  Come on, don’t cry.  I’m both a man and a Slytherin and frankly tears terrify me.  It would be easier to deal with my father and Bellatrix again than with a crying woman, so please don’t make me.  I may as well tell you that I seriously doubt I’ll get to buy you your Hogwarts supplies anyway, no matter how much I might want to.  Draco will bulldoze me out the way to get to Flourish and Blotts first.  Probably put a sticking hex on my shoes and then smirk when I land on my face in the middle of Diagon Alley.” Hermione giggled slightly at this stream of nonsense as the door slammed open and Ginny bounced in, beaming.

“I am getting such a taste for petty crime,” she began.  “Honestly, getting away with this stuff is such a rush.  I can absolutely see what Fred and George see in it.  Saw in it.  Fuck.  Oh, what’s this?  How am I missing this hug?  Make room please!”  She vaulted easily over the back of the sofa, landing between them and wrapping her arms around them both.  “What have I missed?”

“Just explaining some previously overlooked financial facts and the principles of Slytherin loyalty to Hermione,” Theo replied, kissing her cheek. “Did you get it?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, Theo Nott?” Ginny demanded.  “Not only did I get yours, I got Blaise’s too.” She reached into the sleeve of her robes and produced two wands Hermione didn’t recognise.  Theo, however, grabbed one of them with a cry of triumph and kissed Ginny again.

“You are the most incredible witch I’ve ever met,” he began, as Hermione extricated herself from the pile of bodies and stood up.

“I’ll be downstairs with George,” she announced.  There was no reply from the pair on the sofa.

Chapter Text

The next few days were filled with preparations.  Somehow, George’s flat had become their base, and was currently home to four of them - George, Pansy, Ginny, and Theo.  Hermione appeared each morning, stating that she preferred to work in the comfort of the flat than the gloom of Grimmauld Place, which all those who had visited Harry’s somewhat dismal home agreed with immediately.  Daphne floo’ed in whenever she could get away, assisting Hermione with her research, or Pansy with the endless shopping required.

After the first few days, at a plea for peace from Hermione, George brought Lee to the flat and introduced him to Theo.  Lee had raised his eyebrows and immediately asked how many more Slytherins George had hidden away, while dropping to his knees to peer under the sofa, explaining that it may be necessary to conduct a thorough search.  George kicked him.  Theo laughed.

By the end of the day, Theo’s chaotic energy had been harnessed in George’s basement workshop, where he was in his element.  George joined him, leaving the shop in Lee’s capable hands, and the bangs and roars of laughter that came from the workshop made Ginny grin, even while she wiped tears off her cheeks.

Finally, the morning arrived when they were due to depart.  Despite their continual bickering, both Daphne and Pansy hugged Theo tightly, and the fear that they would be separated again was visible in both girls’ eyes.  Daphne and Hermione also clung to each other for an extended time, bonded by their shared fear that all of the effort would be for nothing.  Then the two groups separated, touched their separate portkeys, and were whirled off.

12^th July 1998

Theo was the only person acquainted with the magical side of Paris, though Hermione had visited the muggle part of the city more than once.  It was therefore Theo who led the way through the busy streets, his arm firmly around Ginny. Hermione followed them through the crowd, feeling a mild pang of sadness that they were so clearly in love while she was alone, chasing a man who didn’t remember her and, she told herself firmly, she didn’t even know if would want her.

Theo had booked them into one of the largest wizarding hotels, and once they had settled in they headed out again, equipped with pictures of Draco and determination.  Their first ports of call were the bars and pubs, starting around the area that Draco had been placed and working outwards.  Hermione, boosted by their speed at finding Theo, started enthusiastically.  However, as the hours passed and bartender after bartender shook their heads apologetically, she felt her enthusiasm begin to flag and was glad by the time Ginny suggested they call it a night.

As they walked back to their hotel, she found herself desperately scanning the crowds.  Any flash of light on pale blonde hair, any tall, pale man, drew her attention, but none of them were Draco.  Retiring to her room after wishing Ginny and Theo a good night, she flopped down on her bed and took out her journal, flicking through the pages to the last messages from Draco.

1^st May 1998

HG: We’re heading to Hogwarts.  If I don’t survive, I’ve left a letter for Tonks telling her who you are and that you’re on our side.

DM: I’m already at Hogwarts.  If I don’t survive, there’s something I want you to know.  Shit, I need to get rid of Goyle.  Two seconds.

12^th July 1998

HG: Where are you?

HG: I wonder what you wanted to tell me, when Goyle came to get you?

The fact that the soft chime to indicate that a message had been received came from her own suitcase, just made the sadness worse.  Draco’s journal was tucked safely away beside his wand.  She had retrieved it from the school trunk which had arrived from Hogwarts before they left for Paris, and was even now tucked into a corner of her securely locked bedroom in Grimmauld Place with a strong Notice-Me-Not charm on it.  She didn’t want Harry or Ron to stumble on a trunk marked ‘D.L. Malfoy, Slytherin House’.  There was no way she could see that ending well.  She picked up the pen again, and added one more line.

HG: I miss you.

Her suitcase chimed again, softly.

13^th July 1998

Hermione was woken the next morning by excited banging on her door.  Rolling out of bed, she opened it to find Theo bouncing on the threshold, wearing only his boxers and a tshirt.  She blinked sleepily at him.

“Is the hotel on fire?” she asked.  There seemed to be a lack of smoke and general chaos for such an event, but she was unsure what else could bring a half-naked Theodore Nott to her door before breakfast.

“We’ve forgotten something,” he said, pushing past her and into the room.  He pulled the curtains open and dropped down on the end of the bed.

“What?” Hermione asked, pushing her hair out her face and squinting against the sunlight. “Where’s Ginny?”

“Still asleep,” Theo said, waving a hand dismissively.  “She had a late night, if you know what I mean.”  Hermione rolled her eyes.  “Anyway, we’re missing something. I was about to get in the shower when I had a revelation.”

“You said.”

“Draco’s a posh bastard!”

“That’s your eureka moment?” Hermione asked.  “If that’s it, can you leave, please, and let me get dressed?”  Theo shook his head urgently.

“We’re looking in the wrong places.  Think about it.  Memory wiped or not, Draco doesn’t mix with normal people.  He’ll be somewhere posh, probably somewhere you need an invite to get in.”

“How would he get an invite if he’s had his memory wiped?”  Theo scoffed.

“You think these places don’t know him? Come on, get dressed!  We’ve got shopping to do!”

~

Pans: Checking in guys, hows it going?  Presume you don’t have him yet?

MyLadyGinevra: I don’t have anyone at the moment.  Including Theo.  Where are you?

Hermione: He’s with me.

Pans: Ooh, drama in Paris!  Nott, should I be taking bets on whether Ginny or Draco will murder you first?  Oh no, actually, I think my money’s on George.

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Don’t be crude, Pansy.  Ginny, you were asleep love, and I had to share my idea with someone.  I didn’t want to wake you.

Hermione: I was also asleep.  You didn’t seem to bother about waking me up.

TheOneandOnlyTheo: You were not cute.

Daphne: What’s the idea, Theo?

Hermione: He wants to buy an expensive suit and go looking in the up-market places that we can’t currently get in to.  Or he just wants to buy an expensive suit, I’m not sure.

Pans: Not the worst idea, to be fair.  Draco has expensive tastes. And Theo looks damn good in a muggle suit.

TheOneandOnlyTheo: I do, that is correct.

MyLadyGinevra: Eyes off my man, Parkinson.

WeasleyTwin: Nott, are you still sharing a room with my sister?

WeasleyTwin: Also, what is with this name?  What happened to initials?

MyLadyGinevra: Parkinson, are you still sharing a room with my brother?

Hermione: Theo changed all the names because Ginny and George have the same initials.

Pans: Probably didn’t want to risk sending sexy messages to his girlfriend’s brother.  Also, yes, Ginny.

MyLadyGinevra: Good.  Can you try and take the stick out his arse?

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Anyone would be honoured to get sexy messages from me, thank you.

Hermione: OK, this is getting insane.  Theo, go back to your room and put some trousers on.  Pansy, Daphne, George - good luck.  Keep us updated.  Looks like we’re going shopping.

(later)

WeasleyTwin: No luck for us today.

Hermione: Nor us.  Though we might have emptied Theo’s vault on a suit and two dresses.

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Rubbish. We barely dented it.  And what’s the point in a family fortune if you don’t spend it?  It’s not like I want it, it might as well do some good.

Pans: Will I approve of the dresses?

MyLadyGinevra: Absolutely.  I’ve got cleavage, Hermione’s got a slit to her thigh.  Theo’s got a suit that makes him look so fucking hot.

WeasleyTwin: I don’t think I approve of the dresses.

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Excuse me, love, I am smoking hot at all times.  But it is an extremely nice suit.  It’s being adjusted.  The day after tomorrow, we’re off to find a Malfoy.

Hermione: You OK Daphne?

Daphne: Just worried.  Someone must know where they are, right?

Hermione: That’s what I keep telling myself.

17^th July 1998

It took a few nights of touring round some of Paris’ most exclusive clubs, and much uncomfortable scrutinising of all the tall, blond men they passed, before they struck it lucky.  Theo, looking every inch the rich playboy with his arm around Ginny’s waist and the other holding Hermione’s hand, had just talked them past a large security guard on the door of a club which, Theo assured them, specialised in high stakes gambling.  The man’s limited English had combined with Theo’s limited French to result in complete confusion on both sides, but eventually Theo’s galleons had overruled the security guard’s concerns and they had been waved in.  

They strolled into the heart of the club, Hermione and Ginny doing their best to look like they belonged in such places and were not overwhelmed by the opulence in front of them.  Theo, naturally, had no such qualms.  Their normal routine was to take a seat at a table overlooking the room.  Theo would get them all a drink, they would scan the crowd, and if necessary, the two girls would wander round any areas not immediately visible, arms linked and giggling to each other.-

Tonight, they followed the usual plan, but as Hermione slid into the booth that Theo escorted them to, she caught a blonde flash out of the corner of her eye.  Twisting round quickly, she seized Theo's wrist tightly.  He grimaced, and followed her gaze.

“OK, I see.  Bloke at the card table with his back to us, yeah?  Looks promising.  I’ll check him out then get you both a cocktail.”  He wandered off, circling the tables and looking idly at the ongoing games.  As he approached the man in question, the man looked up from his cards and stared straight at Theo, a look of puzzlement in his grey eyes.  Theo hid his delight and merely gave him a slight, quizzical smile, and a small bow, then wandered off to the bar.  A few moments later, Draco joined him.

“Whisky?” Theo asked, without looking.  He pushed a glass towards his friend.

“Do I know you?”  

Theo shrugged. “Maybe,” he admitted.  “I know lots of people.”

“I don’t,” Draco sounded definite.

“Well, do you think you know me?”  Theo turned to face his friend full on, and Draco frowned.

“You’re like… you’re like someone I knew once, a long time ago.  Or someone I met in passing somewhere maybe.”

“Could be,” Theo agreed, dispatching a waiter to the waiting girls with two colourful cocktails.  Draco sipped his drink and made a face.

“Whisky tastes off these days,” he grumbled.  “Probably cheap French shit.”  Theo hummed in agreement, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“I’ve got my girlfriend and her friend with me,” he said, after a few moments.  “Want to join us?  We can entertain the ladies for a bit then have another shot at the card tables, if you prefer.”  Draco twisted to look at the table where the girls were sitting, trying very hard not to stare.

“Which one is your girlfriend?” he asked, diffidently, his eyes lingering on Hermione.  

Theo grinned.  “The redhead.”  

Draco looked thoughtfully at them both.  “Sure, why not?”  He held out his hand.  “I’m Draco, by the way.  Draco Malfoy.”  Theo shook it, internally amused.

“Theodore Nott.  Theo, for preference.  Come and meet the girls.”

“So what are you doing in Paris?” Theo asked, once the introductions were over and Draco was seated beside Hermione.

“Considering a permanent move, to be honest,” Draco said.  “My family have always spent a lot of time here and I thought it would be a nice change.”

“Where are you from originally?” Hermione asked.  “I can’t place your accent.”  Draco frowned and seemed confused by the question.  Ginny, in response to a dig from Hermione, observed that none of them had particularly easy to place accents either after years at Boarding School and the conversation moved on.  When Draco excused himself a short while later, Theo leaned forward.

“Memory is wiped better than mine - but then they did do me first.  They’ve left holes in his backstory though, you can see where he’s getting confused.  And he can’t work out why muggle whisky tastes weird.  He never was very keen on it.”

“How do you want to tell him?” Ginny asked.  “Should Hermione do it?”  Hermione shook her head.

“He’s Theo’s friend,” she said.  “This man… he’s a stranger, really. I don’t even know him. Remember we haven’t spoken face to face since last June.”

“He fancies you,” Theo said calmly. “Checked which of you was with me before he agreed to come over.  But if you want me to talk to him instead of you, I will.  Though I’m sorely tempted just to hit him over the head with something.  He does know something - he thought he knew me.  And like I said, there’s the whisky.”  Draco returned just then, looking self-conscious, and sat down.

“Draco, you know you said you thought you knew me?” Theo asked, diving into the conversation headfirst.  The other man nodded.  Ginny and Hermione exchanged concerned glances at this approach.

“Still can’t place where,” he said, sounding puzzled.  “Hermione is vaguely familiar too.  Not Ginny though, sorry.”

“Nah, makes sense,” Ginny replied.  

He frowned.  “What do you mean, it makes sense?  Do you lot know something?”

“We do,” Theo said slowly.  “And either you promise to sit there until I’m finished talking, or I’ll make you.  But I know you.  You’re too nosy to leave now.”

“How do you know me?”  Draco sounded irritated.

“I’ve known you since you were born, mate,” Theo grinned.  “Here we go.  Do you believe in magic, Draco?”

“Magic?  Like, card tricks and the like?  What is this?”

“No, not card tricks,” Theo retrieved his wand from his jacket pocket, removed the umbrella from the top of Ginny’s glass, and tapped it repeatedly.  It changed colour each time.  Finally, he tossed it in the air and froze it in place, hovering above the table.  “Real magic,” he repeated.  Draco blinked several times.  “Right, are you ready for the big reveal?” Theo asked, smiling.  Draco shook his head.

“I’m really not sure I am.”

“You’re a wizard, Draco, who has had his memory wiped by the government because he was too much trouble.” Theo said bluntly.  “Me too, by the way.  We always were a good team.”  Draco shook his head, looking like he wanted to get up and run.  Theo shrugged off his jacket and took out his cufflink, as Hermione placed a leather bound journal on the table.

“This is yours,” she said softly.  Draco picked it up automatically.  “Don’t throw it away,” she ordered.  “Please.  You might need it.”

“Look,” Theo said, pushing up his sleeve and holding out his arm.  “Same as yours.  Now, how could I know that if I was a random lunatic, Drakey-boy?”  Draco pushed his chair back and stood up, his face pale and mouth set.

“I have to leave,” he said.  Automatically, he bowed to both women and turning, almost ran towards the door.  Lazily, Theo picked up his wand again and shot a tracking spell at his back.

“I’m not going through all that again,” he objected, when both girls gave him disapproving looks.  “Come on.  Mission successful.  Let’s go home and update the others.”

~

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Dragon located, Dragon located!  I repeat, we have eyes on the Dragon.

Pans: Really?

Daphne: No way.  You found him?

MyLadyGinevra: Technically, we had eyes on him.  Past tense.  We let Theo do the reveal and he freaked and ran out the door when Theo rolled his sleeve up.

WeasleyTwin: What the fuck? What sort of an explanation required getting the Dark Marks out, Nott, you utter twat?

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Rude, Weasley.  My sort, obviously.

Daphne: Why didn’t Hermione do it?

MyLadyGinevra: What about you guys? Any luck with Blaise?

Daphne: Yes!  A restaurant tonight recognised his picture.  We’re going back tomorrow.

MyLadyGinevra: Fab!  Fingers crossed!

Pans: Theodore! What are you doing about Draco and the monumental fuck-up you seem to have caused?

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Relax, Pans.  It’s fine.  I have a tracking spell on him.  And Hermione managed to give him his journal, so I’m hoping the reason she’s not here is because she’s talking to him.

Pans: You put a tracker on him?  He will actually kill you for that alone, Theo.  You’re a dead man walking.

WeasleyTwin: It’s rare that Malfoy and I have ever agreed on anything.

MyLadyGinevra: Oh, give it a rest George.  You know you like Theo, and you’re going to help me with the rest of the family.  You’re supposed to be the cool one.

WeasleyTwin: Isn’t that Bill?

MyLadyGinevra: Nah.  Bill’s all sensible and married.  Charlie’s in Romania.  Percy’s a twat. And Ron will never get over his Slytherin hatred.  I need you.  At least until Mum finds out he’s an orphan with a shitty childhood.

WeasleyTwin: Ooh, that’ll be fun.  Good luck, Nott!  My mother is a force to be reckoned with.

Pans: Shut up, all of you, I want to go to sleep.  I hope Hermione’s talked Draco round by the morning, or I’m coming to Paris to kill Theo and sort this shit out personally.

WeasleyTwin: Maybe just keep the war criminal past bit quiet until he’s got his memories back, yeah?  Also Gin?  You’re right.  You have my (and Fred’s) full approval.  I count for 2 votes now, after all.

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Fucking Hell George.  Thanks mate.

MyLadyGinevra: Love you Georgie.

~

HG: Hello Draco.  This is Hermione, from the club tonight.  I hope you didn’t throw this book away.  If you want to talk about tonight, you can write here and I’ll see it and be able to reply.  I’m sorry about Theo.  He’s… well, you once told me he was criminally insane, but I think he’s just normally insane.  Either way, we (especially Theo) handled tonight badly, and I would like to start over if you are agreeable.

DM: What?  Oh, I see.  It works like that?  Who are you? Were we… involved?

HG: That’s a complicated question.

DM: When I saw you tonight, I felt safe.  I don’t know why, but I did. I trusted you. I don’t know what’s going on at all.  Please, can you give me a better explanation than your friend did?

HG: Possibly, though he is definitely your friend.  I’m not taking responsibility for him. I have enough problems. Do you want to meet, or would you rather I tried here?

DM: Here, I think.  At least to start with. If that’s OK.

HG: OK.  Go ahead with your questions then.

DM: Well, the first one was going to be was it true, but judging by this book the magic bit at least was true.  And if that was true, then I guess the rest of it was as well?

HG: It was all true, just… not very tactful.

DM: So I know you all?

HG: Yes.  We were all at school together.  You, Theo and I were in the same class, but I was in a different house.  Ginny was in the year below us.

DM: I went to Eton.  Or at least, I thought I went to Eton.

HG: No, you didn’t.  That’s just the false memories.  It’s just your brain that thinks that.

DM: OK, so my brain thinks I went to Eton.

HG: Of course it does.  If you’d been a muggle you would absolutely have gone to Eton.  But can you remember anything about it?  Any staff you liked or disliked?  Any schoolmates you can name?

DM: No, not really.  I remember a man in long black robes with black hair, teaching us… chemistry?  But it’s fuzzy.

HG: That’s not Eton, that’s Hogwarts.  That’s Professor Snape, teaching us potions.  That’s interesting.

DM: Why?

HG: It suggests they haven’t so much removed your memories as twisted them a bit.  Hopefully it makes it easier to cure.

DM: Theo said the government wiped our memories because we were too much trouble.  What did we do?

HG: Wow, right in with the hard questions.  OK.  There was a war.  Your family was on one side of it, together with Theo’s.  That’s what the tattoos on your arms are for.  Ginny’s family and me, we were on the other side.  Our side won.  Ginny and I went to the… well, to the government, if you like, to explain to them that you and Theo were spying, passing information back to us.

DM: I was a spy?  What the hell?

HG: Yeah.  A really good one.   You saved hundreds of people, including me and Ginny, from either death or imprisonment.  Anyway, the Minister seems to have decided that due to your help, they couldn’t imprison you, but because you were both marked (that’s the tattoos) they also didn’t believe they could trust you.  So they wiped your memories and dumped you with muggles.

DM: That’s the second time you’ve used that word.  What’s a muggle?

HG: Someone who doesn’t have magic.

HG: Malfoy? Are you there?

DM: Yes, sorry, just processing.  Why do you call me Malfoy and Theo Theo?

HG: We… were not friends when we got to know each other.  I spent almost 6 years calling you Malfoy, when we spoke at all.  It’s just habit.  I didn’t really know Theo at all at school.  He was very quiet, believe it or not.  You… were not.

DM: You don’t make me sound like a very nice person.  I’ve flicked back through this book.  It’s hard to follow, but I get the feeling I did some really bad things.

HG: Yes.  But then you made up for them.

DM: Would it be you who returned my memories?

HG: Yes.  I did Theo’s.  If you’re comfortable with me doing it, I will.  Otherwise I can teach Theo, but that will obviously mean a bit of a delay.

DM: What if… what if I don’t want them back?

HG: Sorry?

DM: Well, from what I’ve grasped, things have been pretty shit, really.  At the moment I don’t know about any of that. I liked Theo, and I liked you and Ginny.  Maybe I could just start from scratch, without knowing about any of the horrible stuff.

HG: I see.  The things is, you’re pretty well known.  And yes, at the moment for a lot of people you are pretty hated.  I was working out ways to restore your reputation when they did this to you.  If you went back to the UK without your memories, lots of people will hate you for things you can’t even remember.

DM: I could stay in France.

HG: Your mother is back home.  I don’t know what she knows about all this.  She was on house arrest when it happened, but eventually she’s going to ask what’s happened to you.

HG: Ultimately, it’s up to you though.  They’re your memories.

DM: Can you tell me about us?

HG: There was not really an us.  We hated each other for years.  When we were in 6^th year at Hogwarts, in the last term of the year we got to know each other a bit.  I think maybe you liked me?  And I liked you.  And I think something might have happened, but you went and started a war and I couldn’t cope with what you’d done.

HG: You told me you’d make it up to me and rebuild my trust and that’s why you became a spy.

DM: Have we kissed?

HG: Once.  On your 17^th birthday.

DM: Anything else?

HG: No.

DM: Why would you still want to?  If what I did was so bad?

HG: Because you were a child, and you were coerced, and because underneath it all you didn’t actually believe it.  And you did so much for our side that I can’t hate you any more, and when I don’t hate you, Draco… well, it feel ridiculous saying this via journal to a man who doesn’t know me, so I won’t.

HG: Where are you staying?

DM: The Four Seasons.  Avenue George V.

HG: Merlin, of course you are.  Theo will have an absolute fit.  He said we should look in the poshest places we could find.  Not sure even he expected to go that far though.

DM: I feel like I have a reputation.

HG: I think you have a few.

DM: What would you do?  If you were in my place?

HG: I would always want to know.  My dad always said that once you have all the information, you can make the right decision.

DM: Have I met your parents?

HG: No.  They were muggles.  I wiped their memories and sent them to Australia to keep them out of the war.

DM: Have you fixed them?

HG: No.  The spell needs to be used as soon as possible.  It’s too late for them.  That’s why we’ve been looking so hard, first for Theo, and now for you and your friend Blaise.  We didn’t want it to be too late for you.

DM: Shit.  Where are you guys staying?  Should I come to you?

HG: You want to do it?

DM: Can I be honest?

HG: Please do.

DM: I want to remember that kiss.

HG: It was an incredible kiss.  We are staying in the magic district.  Meet me at the Place de la Concorde and I’ll show you.

DM: I’ll be there in half an hour.

~

As expected, precisely thirty minutes later Hermione watched Draco cross the road, dodging the Paris traffic, and step on to the Place de la Concorde.  Even this late at night, it was thronged with tourists and it took him a moment to spot her in the crowds.  He looked nervous.

“You came,” he said, when he reached her.  Hermione nodded.

“I always do what I say I will,” she informed him.  “You used to know that.”  He huffed a small laugh.

“Seems there were a lot of things I used to know,” he observed.  “Where are we going?”

“Just back to our hotel,” she said.  “It’s on the edge of the Quartier Magicale.”

“Will I be able to get in?” Draco asked, sounding puzzled.  Hermione grinned.

“Of course.  You are magical.  You’ve just forgotten that you are.”  She remained quietly amused by the look of sheer disbelief on Draco’s face as she led him through the streets and into the hotel.  It was only when they were safely locked in her room that he spoke again.

“This is insane,” he ran his hands down his face.  “How can I have forgotten all of this?”

“Magic,” Hermione said glibly.  He sighed.  “Are you sure now that you want to do this?”

“Everything you wrote in the book was right,” he said slowly.  “I… I don’t want to have someone just wipe all the things I’ve done - which sound pretty terrible - out of my head and let me out of dealing with the consequences.”  Hermione nodded.

“I understand.  Now, I need to tell you, this is pretty intense.  Neither Theo nor Ginny has spoken much about what happened when I cast the spell on him, but my understanding is that as the memories come back, the accompanying emotions come with them.  That can be hard to deal with, particularly for someone who has more intense memories.  You, for example, probably had things in your head that I can’t even begin to comprehend.”  Draco paled, but nodded resolutely.  “Well, if you’re sure, lie on the bed,” Hermione said calmly.  She picked up a quill.

“What are you doing?”

“Updating the team,” she replied distantly. “Unless you want Theo blasting the door in half way through.  He’s an impatient type.”  He nodded.

Hermione: Draco is here with me.  I’m going to cast the charm.  Theodore Nott, if you come anywhere near my room before I tell you you can, you will not enjoy the outcome. Neither will Ginny by the time I’m finished with you.

TheOneandOnlyTheo: Threats against a man’s personal area, Hermione?  That’s low.  Tell him hi from me.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and closed the journal.  She put the quill down and stood over the bed.

“You’ll stay with me?” Draco asked, suddenly.  She nodded.

“I’ll be here if you want me.  You ready?”  He gave her a weak smile.

“Probably not, but go ahead.”  Hermione began to cast the spell.  It seemed to her that this time, there were so many more memories than there had been for Theo.  They came, and came, and kept coming, streaming towards Draco even after she’d finished the spell.  He was still lying on the bed, though as time passed his face tensed, followed by his hands forming fists and eventually, his body curling in on itself.  Hermione reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away, shaking his head.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed.  She pulled back, watching as his emotions flickered across his face.  Fear, rage, grief, disdain… all cycled through, over and over again.  When he whimpered in fear and curled himself back into a ball, she tentatively put her hand on his shoulder, but he shook her off again and she finally settled for sitting in the armchair, covered in a blanket, watching him until the flood of memories seemed to slow and he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The irony of the role reversal was not lost of Hermione as she knocked gently on Theo and Ginny’s door the next morning.  It took a few minutes, but eventually she found herself facing a tousle-haired Theo, clad only in his underwear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked at once.  Hermione closed her eyes, struggling to say the words.

“He’s gone,” she managed eventually, tears leaking out from under her closed eyelids.  Cursing, Theo pulled her into the room.

In a few short minutes, Hermione found herself sitting wrapped in the bedcovers with Ginny, just awake but immediately swinging into action to console her weeping friend, while Theo swore spectacularly in the shower.  Thankfully, the running water was muffling his words.

“I fell asleep,” Hermione sobbed for the third time.  “He didn’t want me - he flinched away when I touched him - and I fell asleep in the chair.”  The shower stopped.

“Fucking stupid bastarding arsehole of a man,” Theo added, apparently now addressing the towel.  “Merlin-damned moronic imbecile.  Salazar’s fucking balls, can the dickhead not just take a fucking win when one is handed to him?  What an utter fucking wanker.”

Ginny hugged Hermione.  “He does want you, lovely.  At least Theo says he does and I trust him.”  The swearing from Theo became muffled again as he began cleaning his teeth.  On the bed beside Hermione lay the note, in Draco’s perfect penmanship,

Granger,

Thank you for your assistance.  I remember everything.  Including all of our history.  Looking with ‘fresh eyes’ as it were, I realise that I am not the man for you, no matter how hard I might try.  If even I cannot forgive myself for my past sins, I have no right to expect you to do so.  I will treasure the memory of our fleeting friendship.

Yours,

Draco L. Malfoy

“Where is shit-for-brains staying?  Do we know, or do I need to track him?” Theo asked, emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and fury.  Hermione giggled slightly through her tears as she remembered.

“The Four Seasons,” she said.  Theo threw his head back and groaned aloud.

“We should have known, really.  Fucking posh bastard with his fucking expensive tastes, can’t possibly be living like a normal person.  Right, my lovelies.  Here’s the plan.  We’ve got him now.  All he needs is a kick up the arse.  As a top-class best mate, I intend to head out immediately and administer this.  It’s currently… 11AM.  You two get yourselves organised, check out, have some lunch - Gin, you’ve still got that money, yeah? - and aim to catch the 1830 from Gare de l’Est to Rome.  All efforts are on Blaise now.  Either Draco and I will be there to get it with you, or we’ll be following close behind.  I’m not leaving this city without that pointy blonde prick, are we all clear on this?”

“You’ll keep in touch?” Ginny asked.  He nodded and waved his journal at her, shoving it into a bag which he slung over his shoulder.  

“I’ve got my wand and the essentials,” he said cheerfully.  “Stop crying, Hermione, you’ll go all red and puffy and that’s not what we need when I manage to knock some sense into your man.”

“Draco’s wand is in my room,” Hermione said, trying to pull herself together.  Theo nodded.

“I’ll pick it up on my way out,” he said.  “Not that Drama fucking Malfoy deserves a wand.  Honestly.  He’s bloody eighteen years old.  Is he going to spend the rest of his damn life beating himself up for things he did as a teenager?”

“Not if you have anything to do with it, love,” Ginny said, laughing now.  Theo turned and gave her a beaming smile.

“You are correct, my darling.  Right, I’m off!  Don’t wish me luck, I won’t need it.  And someone send Pansy an update before she expires from sheer curiosity!”  He paused on the threshold, turned, threw them a dramatic double air kiss, and vanished.

~

One of the best things about being born rich, Theo reflected, as he walked briskly down the street to Draco’s hotel, was the inbuilt belief that you did, in fact, belong anywhere you wanted to.  No one gave him a second glance as he strode confidently through the doors of the hotel and across the polished marble floor.

“Visitor for Draco Malfoy,” he said coolly to the receptionist.  

She shook her head.  “I am sorry, Sir, Monsieur Malfoy has refused any visitors today.”

Theo sighed.  “I bet he has.  Always a possibility, I suppose.  Time for Plan B.  My apologies, mademoiselle,” he added, as he hit the surprised receptionist with a confundus under the reception desk.  “A key card for Monsieur Malfoy’s room?” he prompted, as she frowned at him in puzzlement.  Her face cleared.

“Of course, Monsieur.  Here you go.”  She slid the envelope towards him and Theo, smiling politely, almost skipped to the lifts.  Draco’s suite was, somewhat unsurprisingly, on the top floor.  By the time the lift arrived there, Theo had formulated three different plans, based on where Draco was when he let himself in.  He strongly suspected that Ginny and Hermione would approve of none of them.  Much to his delight, on using his illegally obtained key card, he found the room empty and the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom.  Theo grinned.  This scenario had been his top choice.  Glancing around, he arranged himself in an armchair out of immediate line of sight of the bathroom door, one leg hanging over the side, and twirled his wand between his fingers.  Then, he waited.

Unfortunately, Draco seemed to be taking his time in the shower.  Theo was just at the point of considering a freezing charm on the pipes out of boredom when, thankfully, the water stopped.  A moment or so later, Draco emerged, wrapped in a towel, and bent over to look in the mirror, using his fingers to push his wet hair out of his eyes.  Theo met his eyes in the glass as he did so, grinned, and wriggled his fingers in greeting.

“Hello, arsehole.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Draco demanded.  “How did you get in?”

Theo unfurled himself from the armchair and moved slowly across the room towards him.  “A little confundus on the receptionist,” he admitted casually.

“That’s illegal,” Draco protested.  Theo arched an eyebrow.

“We’re criminals, darling,” he drawled, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder, so that their faces were beside each other in the mirror.  “We were in prison until a few weeks ago.  Have you forgotten again?”

“Get the fuck off me,” Draco snapped, wriggling free.  “What do you want?”  Theo pretended to think.

“Oh, you know.  A chat with my old friend, now that everyone knows who they are again.  A chance to sneak around inside this place, without having to spend my own galleons to stay here.  The opportunity to hex you from here to Christmas for running out on Hermione this morning.  And also to let you know we have a train to catch.”

“A train?”

“Yes, you know - method of transport.  We used to get one to school and back.  It was a big red thing.  I don’t suppose this one will be red, but you never know.”  

Draco had his eyes on Theo’s wand, which he was waving around while he talked.  “I meant a train to where?” he asked.

“Oh, you should have been clearer.  To Rome.”

Draco appeared to be engaged in an internal war with himself before deciding to give in and play along.  “And why do we need to catch a train to Rome?”

“To find Blaise.” Theo said, as if this should be evident to anyone in their right mind.  Draco folded his arms, and then had to unfold them rapidly as the action caused his towel to start to slip.  Theo’s smirk followed him as he disappeared into the dressing room before anything more catastrophic happened.  He emerged a moment or two later, now decently covered, and faced his friend across the room.

“I don’t know why you’ve chosen to come and torture me this morning, and I don’t appreciate you magic-ing your way in here when I’d told the receptionist that I didn’t want any visitors, and I don’t care what Blaise is doing in Rome, I’m not going.  Now please, get out, and take the girls home.  This whole bloody thing was a waste of your time and galleons.”

Theo tipped his head to the side thoughtfully.  “Nope,” he said eventually.  

Draco heaved a long suffering sigh.  “Stop torturing me, Theo, and tell me why you’re really here.”

“Because you left Hermione.”  The words fell into the silence like four stone slabs as all of the fun drained out Theo’s voice at once.  Draco opened his mouth, closed it again, repeated this twice more, then gave up and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“That was probably the second - maybe the third - stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”  Theo told him severely.  Draco considered this.

“Possibly, yeah.  Can you tell me why you’re twiddling your wand around like a baton and haven’t actually hexed me yet?”

“Because the imaginary Blaise standing beside me looks very disapproving of the idea.  Which is why we need to go to Rome.”

“Theo, I’ve been up nearly all night experiencing eighteen years worth of memories returning at once.  I know you know what that’s like.  Please stop being cryptic and you know - so Theo-level psychotic - and just tell me like a normal person.”

“I don’t know what it’s like, actually,” Theo replied.  “I experienced mine wrapped in the loving and supportive arms of my beautiful girlfriend - who incidentally, I’ve left in our bed this morning to come over here and kick your arse.  So if my being cryptic gives me just a little bit of fun while I’m doing it, it’s cryptic all the way. As for psychotic; sorry, mate, but that ship sailed long ago.”

“Fair,” Draco muttered.

“So. Here’s the idiot’s version, just for you.   Memories were wiped.  Mine, yours, Terry Higgs, Adrian Pucey, a few others of that gang - and Blaise.”

“Why the fuck did they go for Blaise?”

“That’s the million galleon question, I’m afraid.  I believe Hermione has told the lawyer to lean heavily on it when he faces the Wizengamot. Blaise is in Rome somewhere.  We sent Daph, Pans, and the Weasley Twin to try and find him while we came after you.  Did you know Pans was shagging Weasley, by the way?  But I suppose that’s not the point just now.  We were fastest - naturally, as yours truly is a bona fide genius - and now all four of us are going to help find Blaise.  Are you now with me on why we need to go to Rome?”

“We, as in me, you, Ginny and Hermione?”

“That’s the one.”

“Then no.”

Theo sighed and, for the first time, looked frustrated.  “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re… you’re deliberately pushing her away because you don’t think someone as nasty and evil as you deserves to have nice things, isn’t that right?  That’s what your ridiculous note said.  Too much history to have a relationship.”

“How do you know what it said?”

“Because the entire reason I’m here is because she turned up at our room this morning, in tears, with the note, to tell me you’d gone.  Because for some reason, she thinks I have some sort of sodding influence over you and can get you to change your mind.  And I promised her I would.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.  Draco… fuck, this is going to sound soppy as hell.  Everything you did last year - every glass of wine you poured for those bastards, every piece of information you memorised and passed on, every time you sneaked food and medicine to the prisoners, every patrol route you altered to stop Ginny’s gang getting caught, everything - was for her.  I know it and you know it, and you know I know it because I did the same fucking thing for Ginny.  You think I was breaking into your office and nicking patrol schedules for Longbottom?  We are in the same position.  Except I’ve taken mine and made my life better as a result, and you seem determined to wrap yourself in fucking misery until the end of time.”

“You hadn’t bullied Ginny for five years before starting a war against her.”

“No one blames you for what you did at twelve, Draco.  I’m not even sure anyone blames you for what you did at sixteen.  But honestly, it’s not me you need to have this conversation with.  Look, mate… we had spoiled childhoods, and adolescences that were beyond fucked up.  We’re both carrying the mark of a madman for the rest of our damn lives.  I will not let the last three years dictate the rest of my fucking life.  Draco - we killed for this life.  Both of us.  And now it’s over, we seem to have a good shot at avoiding prison sentences, so for Salazar’s sake please stop feeling sorry for yourself and just… live.  Take a shot at having a chat with Hermione.  I promise it will go better than you think it will.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then are you really any worse off than you are now?” Theo asked.  “Come on - get your stuff packed up.  We’re going for a drink and some food, then we’re going to meet the girls for the night train to Rome.  You can pay.”

“And when am I supposed to talk to Hermione?”

Theo shrugged.  “Whenever you feel is the appropriate time.  Maybe in Rome?  There’s got to be some downtime while we’re searching for the world’s most stoic man, no?  Anyway, you pack, I’ll update the gang.”  He settled himself back in the big armchair and pulled out his journal and a pen.  He scribbled furiously for a few minutes, then looked up to see Draco laboriously folding clothes into a bag.

“What are you… oh!” Theo dropped his pen and rummaged in his bag.  “I forgot!  Hermione had this!”  He flourished Draco’s wand dramatically as he pulled it out, filling the room with green and black sparks.  Draco’s eyes opened wide.

“That’s my wand!”

“I know!  That’s what I’m telling you!  Hermione had it.  I think she nicked it off Potter, to be honest.  I imagine she’d have given you it this morning, except you fucked off and left her.”

Draco groaned.  “The only good thing about losing my memories is that I’d forgotten about fucking Potter.”  

Theo smirked.  “I wasn’t aware you had fucked Potter,” he quipped.  “That certainly explains a few things!”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “If I have to deal with you all afternoon, I’m going to need more than one drink.”

Theo clapped his hands together in glee and threw him his wand.  “Excellent.  Finish packing and let’s get started!”

~

Hermione and Ginny were already waiting on the platform when they arrived at the train station later that afternoon.  Theo bounded up to them and kissed Ginny enthusiastically.  She laughed and extricated herself with some difficulty.

“You’ve been drinking,” she said.  Theo nodded cheerfully, beaming at her.

“Just a little bit!” he explained, far too loudly.  “Just to pass the time.  I got him here, see!” He waved an enthusiastic hand in the vague direction of Draco, who was trudging up the platform behind him with his head down and his hands in his pockets.

Ginny rolled her eyes.  “Yeah.  And the rest.  Come on.  We booked two sleeping compartments and dinner, so let’s get on board.”  She led the way into the train, and down the narrow corridor to their compartments.  She and Theo disappeared into the first, leaving Hermione and Draco in the corridor.

“We’ll have to share,” Hermione said coldly.  “Sorry if that inconveniences you.  We did try to get three, but there were only two left.”  Draco said nothing, continuing to stare at his feet as he had been since he’d arrived, and Hermione sighed as she let the way into a second compartment.  “I’m taking the bottom bunk,” she said firmly.  There was still no response, and she sighed again.  “Well, this is going to be fun.”

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Draco said suddenly.  “I mean, about this morning.  About leaving.  This isn’t the place to talk about everything, but I do want to.  But right now I’ve been awake nearly all night, I’ve had my entire understanding of the world re-arranged, I’m drunk, and I don’t want to have an awkward conversation on a train.  So can we please agree that we’ll do this when I can sensibly string a sentence together?”  Despite her possibly better judgement, Hermione felt her heart soften as she looked at him.

“You do look like shit,” she agreed.

“I remember you once gave me credit for an Arithmancy project because I looked like shit,” Draco said, slightly slurred.  He was leaning against the wall at the end of the bunks.  Hermione sighed again.

“At least you remember now,” she said.  “OK.  We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

“Will you kiss me before then?” Draco asked, hopefully.

“No.”

At the agreed meeting time, Hermione regarded her new roommate, who was deeply asleep on the upper bunk and, much to her amusement, snoring gently.  Shrugging her shoulders, she went into the corridor and met Ginny.

“Theo asleep too?” she asked, seeing her friend alone.

“Out cold,” Ginny agreed cheerfully.  “It’s what the bastards get for going out drinking in the afternoon without us.  Come on - we might as well enjoy a dinner on Theo, anyway.”  She let the way to the dining carriage, where they managed to get a quiet corner table.

“So,” Ginny said immediately, once they were settled.  “How’s Malfoy?”

Hermione sighed.  “He admits that we need to talk, but he asked if we could do it when he wasn’t drunk and sleep deprived.”

“That’s unexpectedly sensible of him.  Are you going to forgive him?”

“Probably.  I feel like I pretty much already have.  Ginny, am I going off my head?”

“Why?”

“I’m considering a serious relationship with Draco Malfoy.  Not a sixth year flirtation and a quick snog in the Room of Requirement, but an actual relationship.”

“Last year I’d have said yes.  Actually, I wouldn’t.  Last year I’d have asked why, because last year I was busy falling for my own Slytherin.  Before that I’d have said yes.  So - why are you?”

“Because… because I like him,” Hermione said, honestly.  “And he worked so hard last year to mend what we had.  I’m not even going to pretend that I thought that he was spying because he thought the light was right.  I honestly just think he wanted to survive, no matter what happened, and to make me trust him.”

“But he doesn’t think the light were wrong, either, does he?” Ginny asked.  “I mean - he did help us.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“And he doesn’t think… you know, that, about you any more?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Then I don’t see why you shouldn’t date him if you want to.”

“Harry and Ron.”

Ginny snorted.  “Harry and Ron can fuck off.  They’re not your keepers.”

“No, but they are my best friends.  I’d like them to like my boyfriend.”

Ginny shrugged her shoulders.  “They’re not going to like mine,” she pointed out.  “We can be outcasts together.  We’re going back to Hogwarts together anyway - and now we’re going back with Pansy and Daphne.  And I guess maybe Theo and Malfoy, depending on what the Wizengamot says. Draco, I suppose.  Fuck, I’m going to have learn to call him Draco, aren’t I?”

“Ginny, what are we going to do if they send them back to Azkaban?”

For the first time, Ginny paled under her freckles. “They can’t,” she said stubbornly.

“They can.  You know they can.  They’re both marked, Gin - they should never have been in Azkaban in the first place, and they’ve already spent a month there.”

Ginny reached across the table and took her hand.  “I know.  And honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do if they send Theo back.  Other than rope George in to make Percy’s life a living hell.  But if they do - and I don’t want to think about this, not really - but if they do, then I’ll wait.  I’ll be there when he gets out and I’ll fix whatever they’ve done to him.”

“You really love him,” Hermione said.

Ginny nodded.  “It terrifies me how much I love him,” she said, quietly.  “Last year, at first, I thought it was just proximity, you know?  A passing fancy, a good looking guy who I was spending time with, day after day.  He used to nick chocolate frogs out Malfoy’s desk while he was spying and we’d eat them while he was passing me information.  But the more time we spent together, the more I realised it wasn’t burning out… and then I got detention.”  Hermione listened as Ginny described it, still holding her friend’s hand tightly across the table.  “When he picked me up, I felt so safe and protected.  When we were half way up the main staircase, I realised I loved him.  By the time he put me down outside Gryffindor Tower, I almost snogged him on the spot.  Then it took us another four months to actually get together.”

“You can’t blame the man for that.  Everyone in the country thought you were pining for Harry.   But the thing is, Gin, I haven’t had any of that.  I’ve had a year and a bit of brief message in journals, and one afternoon together.”

“Well, no one said we had to be at the same stage right away,” Ginny pointed out.  “I mean, the fact that you do want a relationship with him with just that says enough, surely?”

“So you think I should give it a go?”

“I think you should do whatever feels right,” Ginny said firmly.  “I think you should ask yourself, how will you feel if they do sentence him to prison time - because let’s face it, we all know it’s more likely for Draco than for Theo.”  Hermione nodded sadly.  “I think you should ask how you would have felt if we hadn’t found him - would you have been able to forget him, knowing he was out there somewhere and didn’t know who you were?”

Hermione twisted her fingers together.  “No,” she said, eventually.  “No, I don’t think I’d ever have stopped looking.”

Ginny shrugged.  “Then there’s your answer.  Give the man his chance, and tell Harry and Ron to go and fuck themselves.”

“Assuming he’ll take his chance.”

Ginny grinned.  “Theo will sort that, don’t worry.  You know… once they’ve both sobered up.”

Chapter Text

The train pulled into Rome at breakfast time the following morning, and both Ginny and Hermione jumped out and hugged George, who was leaning against the wall, waiting for them.  He returned the hugs enthusiastically, causing both girls to squeal at the sensation, and then looked behind them.

“You two look rough as fuck,” he observed calmly. Draco blinked owlishly at him.  

Theo yawned.  “We are,” he agreed.  “But is that any way to greet your newest almost-brother? Where’s my hug?”  George grinned and threw an arm around his shoulders as they made their way out of the station.  “Where are we headed?”

“Pansy rented a house,” George said, exchanging a look with Ginny that expressed the sheer insanity of people with enough money to just rent an entire house on a whim.  “We can apparate from down here - I’ll take the girls and come back for you two,” he added.  Theo nodded, and then blanched.

“Maybe no nodding,” he muttered.  Draco, trailing several feet behind them, merely groaned.  George was as good as his word, disappearing with both girls and returning a few minutes later.  He eyed Draco doubtfully.

“Is he going to throw up?” he asked Theo.  Theo gave Draco a considering look.

“Probably,” he said.  George made a face.

“As long as he leaves it until we get there,” he said doubtfully, holding out his arm.  Draco gripped his wrist, and Theo his shoulder, and George apparated.

As soon as they arrived outside the house Pansy had rented, there was a shriek, and a Pansy-shaped blur flew down the steps and launched herself at Draco who grunted, staggered backwards under the impact, and then, with an astounding lack of his usual polish, pushed her hard towards Theo and turned to vomit into the gutter.

“Told you,” Theo observed to George, who nodded solemnly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Pansy demanded.

“He’s just apparated with a stinking hangover,” Theo said cheerfully.  “Some of us can just hold our alcohol better than others, I suppose.”

From the top of the steps, Ginny made a politely disbelieving noise.  “Shall we ignore the fact that you were up throwing up at 2 this morning?” she asked.  “The only reason you’re not joining him is because I doubt you have anything left!”

“Or we could all go inside,” Theo declared, loudly, trying to drown her out.  “Lead on, you two.  Where’s Daphne?”

As they entered the house, Pansy with a concerned arm around Draco, George made a face.

“We don’t really see too much of Daphne when we’re not out Blazing,” he admitted.  “She tends to keep to her room, or go out alone.”

“When you’re not what?” Ginny asked, frowning.

“Blazing.  Looking for Blaise,” her brother explained, slowly.  “Not so complicated really, Gin.”  Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

Pansy reappeared.  “Left him in the bathroom,” she explained.  “Just in case he feels like another go.  Ginny, you and Theo can take the room on the right at the top of the stairs.  Hermione, the one on the left.  They both have bathrooms attached.  Settle in - Tebbit says we’ll have breakfast in about an hour or so, and then we can all compare notes.”

Hermione had almost finished unpacking her belongings into the comfortable room she’d been given when there was a gentle knock at the door.

”Come in,” she called.  The door creaked open to reveal Draco, who came in and stood just inside it.  He still looked faintly green, and thoroughly miserable.

“Are you going to make me sleep on the sofa?” he asked.  Hermione frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

“Pansy has just informed me - somewhat gleefully - that this house only has four bedrooms,” Draco told her.  “She’s sharing one with Weasley, Ginny and Theo have another, Daphne has one, and you have one.  And I’m not sharing with Daphne.”

“Why on earth not?” Hermione asked, sarcastically.

“Because she’s dating Blaise and I reckon he can probably beat me in a duel, because I used to be betrothed to her sister, and because I really don’t want to,” Draco replied dully, missing the sarcasm entirely.  Hermione gave him a withering look.

”Yes Draco, I know.  I wasn’t being serious.”

“I apologised to the Weasleys just now,” Draco said next, perching himself on the edge of the bed.  Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“Why?”

“Honestly?  Because one is dating Theo and one is dating Pansy, so I figured that it was necessary to apologise for the digs about their family.  You know, domestic harmony and all that shit.  Not being hexed by Pansy in my sleep.”

“Not because you’re actually sorry?”  

Draco thought for a few minutes.  “No, I am.  I think it’s fairly safe to say that everything I thought, did, and believed for the first seventeen years of my life was wrong.  And I don’t like being wrong.  It irritates me.”Despite her annoyance, Hermione smiled slightly at this.  “However, how is me standing there telling them I’m sorry going to fix anything?  It probably did more good when Weasley punched me in the face in fifth year.”

“People made a habit of punching you in the face,” Hermione observed distantly.  Draco shrugged.

“I was a piece of shit.  It was an occupational hazard.  But anyway, my point is, me saying sorry isn’t going to fix anything, is it?  I still treated them like crap, they still don’t like me, let alone trust me, they’re probably never going to, and there’s literally nothing I can do about it.”

“You can earn trust,” Hermione observed. He scoffed, but she persisted. “No, you can.  You earned mine, back in sixth year.”

“And then I threw it off the astronomy tower,” he said darkly.  “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?  I’m going to spend my entire fucking adult life trying to make amends for what I did as a kid, and honestly, I can’t be bothered.  There’s no fucking point.”

“And then you won it back again,” Hermione pointed out.

“You say so,” he replied, dully.

“Is this new level of pessimism a result of the Azkaban stay, the memory wipe, or the hangover?” Hermione asked, irritated now.  “Because this is really off the scale, Draco.”

“Maybe all of them?  Theo says I’m determined to punish myself by being miserable.”

“Yes, well, Theo talks a lot of sense sometimes,” Hermione snapped.  Draco raised a single eyebrow.  “He did when he said that,” she maintained.  “The main thing that’s wrong with you is that you have consistently made the wrong decisions, which means your pride has taken a beating.  And I understand why you made most of them, but I do not understand why you sneaked out yesterday morning.  Last year, you decide to turn spy and that was the right decision.  You came to see me in Paris - that was the right decision.  You were doing well.  So tell me - why leave?  Especially when you must have known we weren’t going to let you go quietly.  How did you really see it going?  Did you think we’d just abandon you?”

“I suppose I thought I’d just stay in France,” Draco admitted. “Wizengamot can’t lock me up if I’m not there.”

“The Wizengamot are not bloody going to lock you up!” Hermione yelled.

”They already fucking did!” The words echoed around the room and Hermione stared at him, shocked into silence.  “I spied for you - for them, Hermione.  I risked everything, over and over again.  I sacrificed my pride and my dignity to act like a fucking house elf for them!  I watched my mother cry every time she saw me going to do it, all so that I could get information back to you.  I tortured kids to keep my cover, I watched them feed my bloody professor to the fucking snake! And I did it for months!  And what was my thanks for that?  They took one look at me and locked me in Azkaban.  And then decided that rather than risk giving me a trial and allowing me to explain what I’d done, they’d just wipe me off the face of the earth.  Tell me why I should go back?  Give me one good reason!”

“Your mother,” Hermione suggested.  He waved this away.

“My mother will be done with her house arrest next summer.  She will come and join me wherever I am.  Next reason.”

“Because… because it’s not right!” Hermione said eventually.  “If you stay in France, you’ll be banished from the country, you’ll be called a criminal, your name will be dragged through the mud.  I worked every day from the day they arrested you until the day I got Minerva McGonagall’s letter to get them to let you off.  I have piles of research. Theo’s paid for the best lawyer we could find.  We can do it, I know we can.  Please, Draco!”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why bother?  It’s not like we were anything in particular to each other.”

”Weren’t we?” Hermione asked.  “Can you honestly sit there and tell me there has been one single day since sixth year that you have not thought about me?  Because I can’t.”  Draco opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking, so she continued, “I am not going to deny that you’ve done things you shouldn’t.  I’m not going to pretend that you didn’t make some really stupid choices.  But you also did a lot of good and you saved a lot of lives.  You saved my life, Draco!  You saved Ginny! You need to start giving yourself credit for the good things you did, because I am intensely grateful not to have spent the last year in Azkaban, and that’s entirely on you! But every day that we were on the run you were in my mind.  When we got snatched, you were literally in my mind, and you saved my life - again.  You were the only person I wanted to contact when I knew we were getting to the end.  And when they took you to Azkaban, I worked day and night to get you back.  And you sit there, Draco Lucius Malfoy, and tell me that we were not anything in particular to each other?  I will accept that, Draco, I’ll drop the whole damn thing if you can do one thing for me.”

“What’s that?”

“This sentence,” Hermione opened her journal and slammed it down on the bed beside him.  “ ‘If I don’t survive, there’s something I want you to know.’ - what was it, Draco?  What did you want me to know?  What would you have written?”  There was a long silence as Draco stared at his own handwriting, neat and permanent in the journal.  Hermione kept her eyes fixed on his face.  When she felt like the silence had gone on long enough, she asked, “Well?”

“I did survive,” Draco said, awkwardly.  “There’s no need to know now, is there?”

“Isn’t there?  What did Draco Malfoy on 2^nd May want to tell Hermione Granger?”

“I wanted to thank you!” Draco burst out, his volume rising with every word.  “I wanted to tell you that you’d given me something worth living for over the last year.  I wanted to say that you’d saved me - that you’d shown me there was another way other than just keeping my head down and doing what I was told.  I wanted to tell you that I’d thought about our kiss every day since it happened.  I wanted to tell you how sorry I was that I left you that day.  I wanted to tell you that everything I did - all of it - was for you.  That nothing mattered to me except your feelings towards me.  I wanted to be brave enough to ask if you’d forgiven me.  If I’d redeemed myself.  I wanted…” he tailed off, looking utterly miserable, and Hermione sat down on the bed beside him and pulled him towards her.  He collapsed, his head pillowed on her shoulder.  “I wanted to tell you I was utterly, madly in love with you and that if you felt the same, then nothing would stop me surviving that battle.”

“So what happened?  Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Goyle came to get me, and I didn’t get time.  Then I heard during the battle that you’d snogged Weasley, and I didn’t see the point any more.  You know how it went after that.  They arrested me, put me in Azkaban,” he shuddered, “And then wiped my memory.  Then you fixed it, and I was right back in the same mindset I was mid battle.”

“Yes, I kissed Ron,” Hermione said.  “It was… impulsive, and stupid, and I’m sorry.  If it’s any consolation, I felt nothing during it.  When I kissed you… it was everything, Draco.”

“Will you kiss me again?”

“I will kiss you when you accept that we have a future together,” Hermione said, after a moment’s thought.  “When you look at Theo and Ginny, or at Pansy and George, and think ‘we could have that’ - when you actually want it - when you’ll fight for it - that’s when I’ll kiss you.  Not while you’re thinking you’re on some doomed path to life in Azkaban.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Go home.  Insist on a trial.  Actually have a decision made, rather than having it hanging over your head forever.”

“And if I do that, and they send me back to Azkaban?  Alone?  You know, it was only Theo who got me through it last time.  We were in the same cell… cage.  We slept, sat, ate, pressed up against each other.  For warmth, partly, and also just… to know someone was there.”

“If they send you back to Azkaban, I’ll be there as often as I’m allowed, and I’ll be the first person you see when you get out,” Hermione promised.  “And in between times I’ll be the biggest pain in the arse I can at the Ministry to get your sentence overturned or your conditions improved.  But they won’t send you back.  They can’t.  I’ve testified in your favour.  So has Harry.  Theo even has a muggle who has apparently promised to testify.”

“But I tried to kill Dumbledore,” Draco argued, weakly.

“Badly,” Hermione said, dismissively.  “You might be a lot of things, Draco, but you’re a shit killer.”  He chuckled involuntarily at that.

“I’ve killed someone,” he said, slightly defensively.

“Who?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Dolohov.  He found us just after Theo killed his…” He broke off sharply, and Hermione gave him a searching glance.

“His father?” she asked, quietly.  Draco ran a hand down his face.

“Only Theo and I know,” he muttered.  “Only we were there.  Well, unless he’s told Ginny about it, I don’t know. Certainly they never charged him with it.”

“If it was during the battle, they won’t,” Hermione said.  “Though it’s safe with me, anyway.  I’m certainly not going to turn Theo in for that.”  

“It was during the battle, but it was cold-blooded murder.  Theo had me revive him so that he’d know who killed him… I’ve never see Theo like that before.  He was incredible.  Dolohov found us just afterwards and knocked him out, and then he was… It’s the only successful killing curse I’ve ever cast.  Aunt Bella would have been so proud.”

“Does Theo know?”

“Yeah, he does.  There’s not a lot to talk about when you’re in prison for a month.  You get through most things, eventually.  He called me a soft bastard.”

“Dolohov cursed me, once.  In the Department of Mysteries.  There’s a scar on my ribs.”

Draco’s arms tightened around her.  “Then I’m doubly glad it was him,” he said simply.

“So am I,” Hermione replied.  “And for the record, I think I killed three people that day, so you’re still a shit killer.  Now, come on.  You look almost as bad as you did in sixth year.  We’re going to have breakfast, and then we’re going out looking for Blaise.”

“Together?” Draco asked, hopefully.  Hermione smiled.

“Always,” she replied.  “From whenever you’re ready, until the end of time.”

“I’ll be ready soon.  After the trial,” Draco said firmly, and Hermione celebrated internally that in the last few minutes, a trial seemed to have moved from maybe to definitely.  “Can you wait?”  Hermione flashed him a grin.

“We’re sharing a bedroom,” she pointed out, innocently.  “Can you?” Draco groaned in response.

~

Hermione, by the time they sat down to breakfast, had changed into a sun-dress, demure by muggle standards with a round neck, short sleeves and knee length skirt.  Beside the five pure-blood wizards, however, she looked positively indecent.  All three of the men were wearing pale coloured cotton trousers and open-necked shirts - a departure enough from Draco's habitual black that Hermione found him slightly odd to look at.  George, at least, had his sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off freckled forearms.  The other men, unsurprisingly, had their arms covered.  Ginny and Pansy, on the other hand, favoured linen trousers and loose, smock like tops that did, at least, leave their arms bare.

In the kitchen, there was a large map of central Rome spread on the table.  Once they had finished eating, George and Theo were bent over it, George pointing as he spoke.

“We started here, and went clockwise,” he explained.  “We’re round as far as here, and we’re desperately hoping that he’ll have stayed near to where he was put.  If he travelled further, we’ll never find him.”

“We’ll find him,” Draco said firmly, from his perch on the kitchen worktop.  Tebbit was giving him appalled looks, but so far he was ignoring them.

“Neither Draco nor I wandered far,” Theo agreed, and began thinking aloud.  “Blaise… Blaise isn’t as accustomed to the finest things in life as Draco is.”  Draco made a rude gesture at the back of his head, and Theo returned it without looking.  “We can probably skip the multi-thousand-lira-a-night hotels and the private member clubs.  Also, I don’t think he’s got as much passive income as we do.  He’ll need to be working somewhere.  And there’s not a lot of places in the muggle world for a wizard to work.”

“Restaurants, bars, nightclubs,” Hermione said.  “Shops, maybe.”  

Theo nodded, and addressed George again.  “So this sector is left?  I suggest,” at George’s answering nod, “That we split it three ways.  You and Pansy take one, Ginny and I will take another, and Draco and Hermione can take the third.  Daph,” he added, to the pale, exhausted looking girl on the other side of the table, “You should go back to bed and let Tebbit bring you some breakfast.”

“I need to find Blaise,” Daphne protested.  

Theo left the map and put an arm around her shoulders, leading her towards the door.  “I know.  And we’re going to find him for you.  But just now, lovely, you need food and sleep.  Come on Daph - Theo is on the case now.  When do I ever fail?”

“Do you want an itemised list, Nott?” Pansy’s voice asked sharply from the hallway.  “He’s right this time though Daph.  You’re going to be useless when we find him.  Or in hospital because you’ve collapsed.  Come on, I’ll put you back to bed and send Tebbit up with your breakfast.” She escorted Daphne back up the stairs, returning ten minutes later to inform them that she had eaten some fruit and gone back to sleep.

“She really doesn’t look well,” Ginny said, glancing up the staircase.

“She’ll be OK when we find her Blaise,” Theo said, reassuringly.  “They’ve been everything to each other since fourth year.  It’s just hitting her hard.”

“Well then,”  George donned a hat and a pair of sunglasses, and took Pansy’s hand.  “Let’s get to it.”

Chapter Text

On any other day, wandering through Rome with Hermione by his side would have been highly enjoyable for Draco.  He had, in fact, thoroughly enjoyed the previous three days when they had done precisely that.  Today, however, he found himself struggling.  Eyes flickering from side to side, he scrutinized every one who walked past while his brain spun desperately with the question of whether or not to return to London.  He was paying no attention to Hermione until, evidently tired of being ignored, she slipped one hand into his.  Immediately he felt better - like he’d been adrift, spinning aimlessly, and was now being pulled to shore.  He glanced down at her.

“You were miles away,” she said, sounding slightly reproving.  “Have you even noticed me go into the last few shops?”

“Sorry.” There seemed nothing else to say.

“Are you OK?”

“I don’t know,” Draco replied, honestly.  “I feel better when you’re holding my hand.”  She squeezed it tightly as they turned into the next square, which was full of cafes .  Hermione pulled out the photo of Blaise, and they headed into the first one to make the customary inquiries.

It was several fruitless cafes later that Draco pulled Hermione to a stop.

“Can you hear that music?

“The piano?” Hermione frowned.  “Yes, what does that have to do with anything?”

Draco was spinning on the spot now, peering into the darkness of the restaurants and coffee shops around them.

“That’s not muggle music,” he explained, distractedly.  “More to the point, it’s what Blaise played in the common room all the damn time.  Drove us all to distraction. I remember having a bet with Theo that it was the only thing he’d ever learned to play.  I lost, but it was worth it to mix up his repertoire for a few days.”

“You had a piano in your common room?” Hermione asked, disbelievingly.

Draco paused in his search to look at her in equal disbelief.  “You didn’t?”  

Hermione held up a hand. “Wait.  You need to calm down, and we can compare common rooms later.  The music is coming from over there.” She pointed, and Draco took off at speed, only to be immediately jerked to a halt by the hand she had around his wrist.  “Did you miss the bit where I said you had to calm down?  You are not going in there.”

“He’s my friend!”

“Yes, and you’re Theo’s friend, and I think we can both agree that Theo made a giant balls-up of his attempt at this.  I’m not having a repeat of that.  Poor Daphne looks like she’s barely hanging on as it is.  I’m going in.”

“You don’t even know Blaise!”

Hermione sighed, led Draco to a nearby bench under a tree, and pushed him down on to it.  “That’s the point.  Stay there.”

Draco waited impatiently as she disappeared into the darkness of the little cafe.  The contrast between the bright sun and the dull inside meant that she was essentially invisible, and he had no idea what was happening.  The music stopped.  Hermione didn’t come back.  Eventually, the piano started again, the well known notes teasing him with the nearness of his friend, and Hermione emerged, blinking, into the sunshine.

“Well?” he demanded, as soon as she was within earshot.

“Blaise will be at the house tonight, at about six,” she replied calmly.

“Have you told him?”

“No.  I told him I wanted to discuss hiring him for an event.”

“That was… surprisingly un-Gryffindor of you,” Draco said.  “Almost Slytherin, in fact.”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” Hermione suggested.

“Not the way I’d like to,” Draco muttered under his breath.  He wasn’t sure if she heard him - her cheeks flushed slightly, but she made no comment.

~

The entire group was gathered in the main room at six that evening when the doorbell rang.  Hermione answered it, introducing herself and inviting Blaise Zabini, muggle musician, into the sitting room.  He looked slightly taken aback at the group waiting for him, and then nervous when, once he’d sat down, Draco and Theo took seats on either side of him.  George, arms folded to hide the wand in his hand, leaned against the wall beside the door.

“This… doesn’t look like a booking,” Blaise said, nervously.  “I think I’ll just go, if it’s alright with you all.”

“It’s not,” Pansy said calmly.  She was sitting beside an almost ethereal-looking Daphne, who hadn’t taken her eyes of Blaise since he entered the room.  He, in turn, was trying very hard not to stare at her.  “It’s an intervention, I suppose.”

“Yeah…” Blaise said, sounding distinctly uneasy.  “I don’t know you lot.  I’m out of here.”

“Don’t go.” The words silenced the room, and he stopped pretending he wasn’t staring at Daphne and kept his eyes on hers.  “Stay,” she said.  “Let us explain, please.”

Theo having been banned from getting involved in the explanation by universal vote, if was Draco who took the lead this time.  He talked himself almost hoarse, explaining the situation while Blaise kept his eyes on Daphne as if she was his only link to sanity in the entire thing.  Only at the end of the explanation did he look at Draco.

“So you’re telling me I’ve known you all for seven years, and I can’t remember any of it?  I didn’t grow up in England, I didn’t go to school in Scotland - I’m Italian, for God’s sake!”

“You’ve got an English accent, mate,” George said.  Blaise whipped his head round, apparently having forgotten George was there.

“I’m good at languages!” he snapped defensively.

“You are,” Theo agreed, clearly deciding that he could be involved now that the biggest part of the explanation was over.  “But you’re still who we’re telling you you are.  Look, I know it’s hard to believe.  I struggled to believe it.  Draco frankly didn’t.  But it’s the truth and if you’ll trust us we can prove it.”  Blaise shook his head again.

“I… no!” he said.  “I need some air.”  He pushed past George and hurried out into the kitchen.  The rest exchanged glances, but it was Daphne who got up.

“My turn,” she said calmly.  Before she left, she took Blaise’s wand from the sleeve of her blouse and laid it on the coffee table.  Then she followed him out.

“Blaise?” she said, softly.  He was sitting on the steps outside the back door with his head in his hands.  He looked up.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, moving over.

“Daphne,” she prompted.  “Your girlfriend, as it happens.”

“My… what?” Blaise gaped at her.

“Girlfriend,” Daphne repeated, calmly.  “For three years now.  We went through a war together.  We talked about getting engaged.”

“How the hell can I not remember that?  I mean you’re… you’re beautiful and if you’re telling the truth then I’m the luckiest man alive, but I don’t believe that if I had someone like you, I ever could forget them, never mind would.”

“Look, I know this is hard to believe.  I do.  But please, I’m asking you to give it a chance.  If it doesn’t work, you walk out of here and you’ll never see any of us again.”

“What if I agree and I still don’t remember you, because you’re all insane?”

“Then you’ll never see us again.”

“Not even you?”

“Especially not me,” Daphne said quietly.  “Look, Blaise… I know you don’t entirely believe this, but just for a moment, please imagine that it’s true.  Imagine that through the worst time of your life there is one person standing beside you.  One person who you love and trust above all others, and then suddenly, in the blink of an eye, that person is gone.  That’s what happened to me.  You were my everything, and I have spent weeks looking for you.  Now I have the chance to get you back, if I can just convince you to trust me enough to let us try.  If you won’t… if you’re determined not to… then I’ll go home, and they’ll find me someone else to marry.”

“Marry?”

Daphne shrugged.  “I have to marry.  If I don’t show any signs of choosing a husband for myself - that was you, just so that we’re perfectly clear - they’ll find one for me.  And unfortunately, Theo and Draco are already taken.”

“Can someone tell me what the… thing… consists of?”

“We can go back in and ask the boys.   They’ve both done it recently.  It’s not fun, as I understand it, but it’s surviveable.”

When they re-entered the sitting room, Blaise spotted the wand lying on the coffee table.  With his attention still on Daphne, he picked it up and attempted to tuck it into a wand holster that he wasn’t wearing.  It clattered to the tiled floor, rolling under the sofa.  He stared at it in confusion.

“What the fuck did I just do?”

Theo grinned, and pulled up his own sleeve.  “Tried to put your wand away,” he said, showing his own.  “You are, obviously, not wearing a wrist holster.”  He pulled his own wand, flicked it lazily, and Blaise’s flew back out from under the sofa and hovered in the air in front of them.

“Your subconscious recognised it,” Hermione explained, taking pity on him.  “And knows where you keep it.  That should be - if not proof, at least a strong indicator that we’re telling the truth, no?”  Blaise slowly reached out and plucked the wand out of the air, examining it closely.

“It feels… warm,” he said slowly.  

Hermione nodded.  “It should.  It’s yours, after all.”  He looked from her, to the wand, and back to Daphne, who placed a hand on his arm.

“Tell me what’s going to happen,” he said.  Theo and Draco exchanged looks, and Draco shook his head.  Theo leaned forwards.

“I’ll be brutally honest - nothing particularly fun,” he said.  “Though your memories probably won’t be as fucked up as either of ours, so it probably won’t be quite as tough for you.  You’ll likely remember Daphne early on - once you do, I recommend using her for support.  I know she looks like a frail little mortal,” this as Blaise gave him a sceptical look, “But she’s really quite tough and believe me, it’s easier with help.  It’s a bit like… you know they say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes?  It’s like that.  Things come back to you - the bigger memories first, the important stuff, and then the rest, one after another.  And the emotions come back with the memories.  That’s the tough bit.”

“How long does it last?” Blaise asked.

“A few hours?  And then you fall asleep,” Theo explained.  “And then tomorrow, we’re finally all back together again.”  Blaise looked around at them all, and then back at his wand again.

“Do it,” he said, finally.  “Before I change my mind.”  Daphne gave his arm a squeeze.

“Come up to my room,” she said, leading the way.  Hermione stretched and stood up as well.

“Get comfortable,” she said.  “I’ll be there in a moment.”

~

Having cast the memory retrieval spell for the third time, and left Blaise in Daphne’s care, Hermione went back downstairs.  The group had separated, George and Pansy curled up on the sofa, Theo and Ginny disappearing hand in hand.  Feeling rather lonely, Hermione went looking for Draco.  She found him in the garden.

“All right?” he asked, as she sat down beside him.  She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah.  Daphne will manage.  She’s not as frail as she looks.  And she’s beyond thrilled to have him back.”

“So would I be, given the available marriage alternatives,” Draco said.”Do you know what I hate right now, more than anything else?”

“What?”

“That I wasn’t the last person to kiss you.”  The words were quiet in the evening air.

“But surely…” she began, trying to gather her words.  “Draco, that was over a year ago.  Surely there’s been someone else?”

“You think so?” he asked, and he sounded tired, but not angry.  “You think that in the middle of a war, where I was a bloody spy, Head Boy at Hogwarts, and trying to stop fucking Theo getting himself killed, you think in the middle of all of that, I found time to get a girlfriend?  Or do you think I got myself one in Azkaban?  I can promise you I wasn’t snogging Theo.”

“Draco, you were betrothed!”

“To a fifth year!” he retorted.  “She was bloody fifteen!  She tried, once, and I basically threw her away.  I had to answer to sodding Blaise on why I’d broken Daphne’s sister’s heart.”

“I heard about that,” Hermione admitted.  “Daphne told me, ages ago.”

“So you admit, then, that I had no time for anyone else?”

“I suppose, when you put it like that…”

“I didn’t want anyone else,” he interrupted.  He turned and pulled her hand into both of his.  “How could I?  You were there when no one else was.  You got in when no one else could, and you kept me alive.  Do you know that even on the very last day, before I opened the cabinet, right up to the last minute I was in two minds about whether to do it?  I almost hoped I’d meet you on the way, that night, because if I had I don’t think I could have done it.”

“I was avoiding you,” Hermione said quietly.  He huffed a laugh.

“Yeah.  I deserved it.”

“You know…” Hermione paused.  “You know, these last few days, we’ve almost been together.  I mean, we’re sharing a room, we were out searching for Blaise together, you were holding my hand this afternoon.  It wouldn’t be the end of the world to take the next step, Draco.  Then you would be the last person I’d kissed again.”

“You said… not until I was prepared to fight for us,” Draco said, hesitantly.

“Aren’t you?”

“I want to.” It was barely a whisper in the silence.  “I just can’t… every time I think I’m ready, I remember Azkaban and I just can’t.  I’m a coward, Hermione.  I’ve always been a coward, and I don’t know how to stop.”

Hermione twisted to face him, taking both his hands in hers.  “A coward,” she began, “would not have killed a man to save his best friend.  A coward would not have stood silent though hours of meetings, memorising information that would have got him killed if they’d known he was doing it.  A coward would not have been in Hogwarts for the battle, he’d have escaped with the children.  A coward would not have come back to face me after he walked out on me in Paris.  You’re not perfect, Draco, but you are anything but a coward, and it’s about time you started to believe that.”  He stared at her in silence, so she continued.  “Was Theo a coward, Draco?”

“Theo is the bravest man I know,” Draco said, automatically.

“What did he do to make him brave that you didn’t?”

“Stood up from the start.  Changed sides voluntarily.”

“Did you have that option?”

“No.”

“Lack of options is not cowardice,” Hermione said softly.  “Tell me… you had already decided to spy, hadn’t you?  Before you asked me what you could do to fix things.  You already knew.”  There was a long pause, and a slow, reluctant nod.  “Draco, fight,” she whispered.  “Please!”  There was no response and with a final squeeze to his shoulder, Hermione retired to her room.

~

It was hours later, and she was lying in bed in the dark, when the door creaked open and Draco came in.  He clearly thought she was asleep, and collected his night things in silence, withdrawing to the bathroom to change.  When he returned, and slipped under the covers beside her, she heard him sigh.

“I’m still awake,” she said quietly into the darkness.  She reached out a hand and found his.  “I’ll wait, Draco.  I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“Weasley’s are apparently shit at silencing charms,” Draco said, apparently from nowhere.  Hermione turned over to stare at him in the darkness, puzzled.  “Theo and Pansy won’t care about them, but I would have expected Gryffindors to want to keep their trysts private.  The point is… and maybe this is just me thinking with my dick, I don’t know… but the point is that I want that.”

“Sorry, you want what?  To be shit at silencing charms?”

Draco sighed.  “Yeah OK.  That didn’t really make sense.  I want us, Hermione.  I want someone to walk past our bedroom door and think ‘fuck’s sake, they’re at it again’, like I just did outside.  I want what the others have, and I want to stand with you and fight for it.  I’ll come home.  I’ll let them try me.  And… I’ll take what’s coming.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked quietly. “You need to be sure, Draco.  I can’t keep doing this if you keep running.  You’ve run from me twice now, and I can’t handle you doing it a third time.”  He rolled towards her, bringing one hand up to sweep her hair back off her face and then rested it on her cheek.

“I’m sure,” he said.  “I’m terrified, but I’m sure.”

“Then kiss me,” Hermione said, into the darkness.  “Please, Draco.”  There was a long moment of silence, and then she felt him move in the dark and his lips pressed against hers.  She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her at the sensation, but he’d done the same.  He pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her desperately, and when he stopped, they were both gasping for breath.

“Only fourteen months late,” Draco whispered.

“Worth waiting for?”

“Fuck yes.”

“I… I don’t want to get into anything official,” he said, after another moment.  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that to you until I know if I’m going back to Azkaban.  So we can have this - I want this - while we’re here, but I’m not tying you down until we have a verdict.”

“Draco,” Hermione said, trying very hard not to sound irritated, “If you go back to Azkaban, despite my very best efforts, and Theo’s mindbogglingly expensive lawyer, and the fact that you did so much to atone for your mistakes, it will be a mockery of justice.  However, if, and I stress the if, that happens, do you know where I will be?”

“Where?” Draco asked, almost too quietly to be heard.

“In their bloody visitor room, every week.  At the owl office, every chance I get, sending care packages.  And standing at the front door waiting on the day they let you out.  Am I making myself clear, here?”

“You’re saying…” Draco tailed off, his hands grasping at the bedcovers.

“I’m saying that no matter what, you’re not doing it alone,” Hermione said, clearly.  “I will be there for you, whether you are in Azkaban or not.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And whether that’s as your friend, or your - fuck, this sounds childish - girlfriend, I don’t care.  I will be there regardless.”

“Am I getting a say in this?” Draco asked, now with a faint hint of amusement.  

Hermione scoffed. “No.”

“Excellent.  May I now continue kissing you?”

“Please do.”

~

 “Morning, fuckers.”  The low drawl from the kitchen door silenced the breakfast chatter.  Theo jumped to his feet, while Draco stood up more slowly, both of them grinning widely at the newcomer.  Pansy raised her hands to her mouth to stifle a squeak.  Blaise merely smirked, and then laughed outright as Theo launched himself at him, pulling him into a hug.

“Malfoy, get your pasty arse over here!” Theo demanded, and the three men stood, locked together, for a long moment.  “We’re back,” Theo said, beaming, and then drew back to look at Blaise questioningly.  “We are back, right?  You remember?”

Blaise nodded.  “I remember.”  This broke the spell, and Pansy was the next to launch herself into Blaise’s arms, squealing with delight.

“We’ve fucking done it,” Ginny said, in amazement.  Blaise was leaning over to shake hands with George, and nodding his thanks to her and Hermione.  Theo seized her around the waist and waltzed her around the kitchen, crashing into people and furniture with abandon until her shrieking got him to stop.

“Can you all keep it down?  I’ve told Daph to stay in bed for a while,” Blaise said.  “What the fuck have you all done to her?”

“She did it to herself,” Pansy said.  “We’ve tried - honestly we have - but she cannot cope with you, Blaise.  She wouldn’t eat, she wouldn’t sleep, she spent hours more than the rest of us wandering around with your picture, asking people if they knew you.”

“Fuck,” Blaise said.

“She’s actually better,” Pansy went on.  “She’s been in bed the last three days, since team Paris showed up.  She actually did what Theo told her.”

He nodded.  “She’s always been fond of Theo - fuck knows why.  Cheers, mate.”

Theo simultaneously gave him a nod of recognition and a lewd hand gesture, and Pansy sighed. “Honestly, boys.”

“Anyway,” Blaise went on, “I’ve had an idea.  How much longer can you all roam the continent for.  Another week?  Two?”

They all looked at George, who frowned.  “Why are you all looking at me?”

“Because you’re the only one with a real job, love,” Pansy pointed out.  “How long are you happy to let Lee cover for you?”

“With Floo check ins?  As long as he wants to, really.  What are you thinking, Zabini?”

“I’ve got a house,” Blaise said.  “On the coast. I’d like to take Daphne there for a week or so, to get her back to her usual self, and I would love for the rest of you to join us.”

“What will the Wizengamot say?” Ginny asked, anxiously.

“We’ll fudge the dates,” Theo said easily.  “Tell them you found us all two weeks later than you did.  No one except the eight of us knows otherwise, do they?”

“We could,” Pansy said, looking thoughtful.  “I mean, before we have to go back to all the recovery and trials and going back to Hogwarts crap.”

“Until the end of the month?” Hermione suggested, her eyes on Draco. Discussion of the trials always made him paler than usual.

“Ten days,” Theo said.  “Let’s do it?  Come on, Draco,” he added, seeing the unsure expression.  “Ten days in the sun doing nothing to get rid of the last of the fucking cold from Azkaban.  Then we’ll go home and get ourselves freed.”

“Maybe,” Draco said quietly.  “But yes.  Let’s do it.  If nothing else, it will give me something to hold on to afterwards.”

Chapter Text

At the beginning of August Draco and Theo, accompanied by a very expensive, but very good lawyer, walked into the Ministry and handed themselves over for trial.  They were placed in the Ministry holding cells much to their relief, both having been anticipating a return to Azkaban.  The memory of the ten days on the Italian coast carried them both through the miserable days and nights.  On  the third day of their incarceration, they were surprised to be handed piles of clean clothes - their own - and escorted to a shower block.  Once changed, the auror with them showed them into an interview room.

“Blaise!” Theo said, thankfully.  “You, my friend, are a sight for sore eyes.  What’s happening?”

Blaise’s eyes jumped from Theo, who looked worried but otherwise normal, to Draco, who was ghostly and terrified.  He ignored Theo’s question.  “We’ve got two hours,” he said, flicking his wand to turn one of the chairs into a low cot.  “Draco, sleep.  You look like death.  Theo can fill you in later.”

“We’re not going anywhere, Draco,” Theo added.  “You’re safe.”  Draco blinked at them, and allowed them to direct him to the cot.  He was asleep in seconds.

“They split you up, then?” Blaise observed, keeping his voice low.

Theo sighed. “Yeah.  He doesn’t handle it well.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Better than Draco.  But then, I know I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Blaise looked from one to the other, and his lips thinned.  “Trial is tomorrow,” he said, finally.

“Shouldn’t the lawyer be telling us this?” Theo asked.

“He’s downstairs, arguing with the Wizengamot that the entire memory wipe scheme was illegal and immoral,” he said.  “I offered to come and see you instead.  Have to say, this is better than the visitors room as Azkaban.  I didn’t think you’d want the girls here.”

“No,” Theo said immediately.  “Where are they?”

“Hermione and Daphne are at the lawyer’s office, adding to the evidence for tomorrow,” Blaise said.  “Pansy’s with George, I think.  And Ginny had to go home and explain to her parents what she’d been doing for a month.  I think she’s planning to tell them that she was just with Hermione - that’s apparently what she said before she left.”

“She did,” Theo confirmed.

“Can you stick it until tomorrow?  Can Draco?”

“Yes, and maybe,” Theo replied grimly.  They both looked at their sleeping friend.

“It’s going to take all of us to get him back,” Blaise murmured.  Theo nodded silently.

“We’ll do it.  I keep telling him, this is not going to ruin his life.  After the trial, we’ll round up the troops.”

“Hermione will help.”

“More than anyone else,” Theo agreed.

~

The following morning, Hermione and Ginny, accompanied by Blaise, Daphne, George, and Pansy, filed into the front row of the spectators gallery in the Wizengamot.  On the other side of Hermione sat Kelly, with Alice beside her.  Both girls were looking at the assembled court with some level of nervousness, and Hermione squeezed Kelly’s arm reassuringly.

“It’s OK,” she murmured.  “They’re awful, but Martin will be with you.  You know what you have to tell them.”  

Kelly nodded.  “I was just wondering if I’d ever met any of them… you know, masked,” she muttered back.  Hermione squeezed her hand.

“None of them are marked,” she said quietly.  “Whatever other shit Kingsley has pulled, he did at least insist on a check for that.  So I wouldn’t think so.”

”That makes me feel better.”

Of course,  Hermione considered, it was almost a foregone conclusion that Harry and Ron would be among the Aurors who escorted Theo and Draco into the courtroom.  They were ushered into two cages in the middle of the floor, hands bound behind them.  Ron managed to get a harder than required shove on Theo as he stepped into it, off balance on one foot,  and sent him to his knees on the floor.  Ginny leaned forward, her eyes flashing, but Theo looked up and gave her a brief smile before getting back to his feet.

Martin MacMillan entered next, moving to stand between the two cages.  He spoke briefly to both boys.  Theo looked relaxed and superior, while Draco appeared beaten and terrified. Hermione tried desperately to catch his eye, but he stared resolutely at the floor.  Finally, Kingsley appeared and took his seat, and proceedings were underway.

It was Percy Weasley who rose to his feet.

“The Wizengamot vs. Draco Lucius Malfoy, on charges of terrorism, use of Unforgiveables, joining the organization known as the ‘Death Eaters’, muggle baiting, beaching the statute of secrecy, the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore, and the murder of Albus Dumbledore.  The court is reminded that any unforgivable curse cast by Hogwarts pupils while under the command of the Death Eater Amycus Carrow is considered expunged from the record.  Prisoner, how do you plead?”  Draco kept his eyes on the floor.

“Not guilty to all except being a Death Eater, use of Imperio only, and attempting to murder Dumbledore,” he said quietly.  Percy made a note, and continued.

“The Wizengamot vs. Theodore Thoros Nott, on charges of terrorism, use of Unforgiveables, joining the organization known as the ‘Death Eaters’, muggle baiting, and beaching the statute of secrecy.  The court is reminded that any unforgivable curse cast by Hogwarts pupils while under the command of the Death Eater Amycus Carrow is considered expunged from the record.  Prisoner, how do you plead?”  Theo looked back at him coldly.

“Not guilty,” he snapped.  “On all charges.”  Ginny let out a long breath.  Hermione wasn’t sure she was breathing at all.  Kelly’s nails were digging into her hand, and the pain was the only thing anchoring her to the courtroom.  She squeezed back.

“And we’re off,” Ginny murmured.

As with all the Death Eaters who had been tried, the left sleeve of their robes were missing, showing off the Dark Marks.  This, therefore, was where the court started.

“Are you trying to tell us, Mr. Nott, that you are not a Death Eater when the evidence is so clearly branded on your arm?”

“This was given under duress,” Theo replied calmly.  “I never acted as a Death Eater in any way.”

“Can you prove that?”

“I believe my colleague has shown you his memory of the event?”  Theo indicated Draco.

“Forgive us, Mr. Nott, but we would prefer the word of someone who was not, in fact, a Death Eater himself.”

“Those who are not Death Eaters are not generally found at marking ceremonies,” Theo pointed out.  Ginny cringed at the hint of sarcasm in his tone.  “I’m afraid there is no such memory in existence.”

The wizard currently asking questions scowled at Theo, and switched targets.  “Mr Malfoy, are you going to tell us that yours was given under duress as well?”

Draco shook his head.  “I went willingly,” he said quietly.

“To save your mother from having to go instead,” Theo added.

“Mr Nott!”

“Sorry, Minister.  My friend is determined to fall on his own sword here.  Someone has to make sure all the facts are told.”

“That is the job of your lawyer, Mr Nott.”  Theo nodded reluctantly, and cast an anguished glance at the lawyer. Martin MacMillan got to his feet.

“Please record that Draco Malfoy took the Dark Mark willingly only to save his mother from having to suffer the same,” he said firmly.  “Now, moving this farce of a trial on with further pertinent facts - from September last year until May of this, Theodore was acting as a spy for the guerrilla organization known as Dumbledore’s Army,” he began.  “Within Hogwarts, he provided them with information, medical care, and warnings about upcoming attacks.  Would he have spent his time and put himself in danger doing this, to then go and join the organization he’d been spying on?  Mr. Nott was marked at the will and behest of his father, not his own.  His choice, ladies and gentlemen, was to join or die.  He was asked to make this choice at seventeen years old.  Can any of you honestly stand up and tell me you would have made a different choice?  He is therefore not guilty of either the terrorism charge, or the charge of being a Death Eater.”  Kingsley Shacklebolt stared at him, expressionless.

“Miss Ginevra Weasley and Mr Neville Longbottom have already provided testimony regarding Theodore’s activities during the last twelve months.  I suggest the court reviews their testimonies again, before making any further accusations against Mr Nott.  Both are here today and willing to be questioned, if the court so desires.”

“The court has no questions for Miss Weasley or for Mr Longbottom,” Percy said, glancing over his notes.

“Wonderful.  Then we shall presume that the court accepts their account of Theodore’s activities.  At the same time,” the lawyer went on, “Following the death of Albus Dumbledore - not, I should stress, at the hand of my client as I believe Trainee Auror Potter has already confirmed with a closed testimony - Draco Malfoy passed information from meetings of Lord Voldemort’s closest confidants to the Order of the Phoenix.  Information which, passed to Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin First Class, and then on to Auror Nymphadora Lupin, posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin Second Class, was critical in the war effort.  In fact, Minister, perhaps you could repeat the statement you gave to the press on the occasion of the awarding of Madam Lupin’s Order of Merlin?”  Kingsley, thus put on the spot, cleared his throat.

“The information provided by the spy in communication with Nymphadora Lupin saved tens, if not hundreds, of lives,” he said unwillingly.  Martin MacMIllan beamed at him proudly.

“Information,” he said, just in case anyone still wasn’t clear, “That came directly from Draco Malfoy, at great risk to himself.  Do you know, Minister, Ladies, Gentlemen, what would have happened had Lord Voldemort discovered that one of the very people he trusted to attend meetings of his inner circle was feeding information back to his enemies?  And yet this feat was accomplished by a seventeen-year-old boy.  Both of these boys - schoolboys, may I point out, still studying at Hogwarts - did their fair share and more for the side of the light, and it is only fair that the court should recognise that and take it appropriately into account.”

“Furthermore,” the lawyer continued, “The very fact that this court decided, without trial, to wipe the memories of these defendants and exile them after being given this information previously, suggests that it was believed.  Otherwise, Minister, why not just put them back in Azkaban?  This has of course already been discussed extensively yesterday during the action Mr. Zabini brought against this court for his own unjustified and unlawful memory wipe, as I’m sure you all remember.  I would like to point out that those perpetrated against Mr. Nott and Mr. Malfoy are just as unlawful.  They have not yet instructed me to bring any action for damages on their behalf, however neither has it been entirely ruled out.”

“Moving to the charge of muggle baiting,” the Minister said, ignoring this last comment.  “We have testimony that muggle girls were brought to both of the defendants during their time at Malfoy Manor this April.  These girls then disappeared, presumed murdered by Malfoy and Nott.”

“Testimony from whom, Minister?” It was Theo who asked.  The Minister’s eyes flickered to Percy Weasley, who consulted a scroll.

“From Rodolphus Lestrange,” he said unwillingly.  Theo nodded politely.

“A man who has been a marked Death Eater and follower of Lord Voldemort since his schooldays, and who is also a known drunkard, rapist, and murderer.  Strange how the admissibility of Death Eater testimony changes, isn’t it?”  At a sign from the lawyer, he stepped back, and gave Ginny a grin and a wink.  She shook her head despairingly.

“He’s going to talk himself into a bloody cell,” she muttered.  “Kingsley’s going to lock him up just for being a smart arse.”  Hermione nodded her agreement, her attention focused on the lawyer.

“As it happens, Minister, we have the ladies in question here today,” he said, and Hermione celebrated internally at the look of shock on the faces of many of the Wizengamot.  “Miss McVey, if you will join me on the floor?”  Kelly rose to her feet and did as he asked, looking very small as she stood in front of the rows of seats.  Theo’s lips moved as she passed him, and she glanced quickly at him, and gave him a small smile and a nod.  “Please tell the court who you are,” the lawyer prompted.

“My name is Kelly McVey,” she said clearly.  “I am - I believe the term is a muggle? - who was kidnapped last January on my way home from my job, and held as a prisoner until April.  In the gallery is my friend Alice Smith, who was held from February to April.  We were the longest-held prisoners among the muggle women there.”

“What happened to the others?” Martin MacMillan asked.  Kelly raised her chin.

“They were raped and many were murdered by the men who wore black robes and silver masks,” she stated bluntly.  “I don’t know what happened to the bodies.”

“And you were the two taken by Thoros Nott for his son and Mr Malfoy?”

“We were,” Kelly confirmed.

“Can you tell us what you expected to happen, and what did?”

“We were taken from the dungeons to the rooms that Draco and Theo were occupying.  We expected, as I have already stated, to be raped if we were lucky, and murdered if we were not.  In fact, what happened was that they provided us with clothes, food, showers, and a bed.”

“In return for sexual favours?” asked a wizard in the third row.

“No.  They did not ask for anything in return,” Kelly said firmly.  Theo’s eyes narrowed in the direction of the questioner.  Draco continued staring at the floor.  “They went on to explain that if we consented, they could remove our memories of the entire event.  Alternatively, they offered to leave us with our memories, to allow us to testify for them here.  We agreed to that option.”

“And how did you escape from Malfoy Manor?” Martin prompted.

“There was a big commotion - I don’t know what it was, but while it was going on Theo cast a spell on us to make us invisible and took us to the edge of the property, and then showed us the way to the nearest village.  I later heard,” she added, “That he went back to the dungeons afterwards and did the same for all the other girls who were there.”

“Fuck,” Ginny said aloud into the silence that greeted this.  “Of course he did.  Should’ve been a bloody Gryffindor.”  There were chuckles from some of the Wizengamot, and Theo met her proud beam with a uncharacteristically shy smile.

“Where was Mr. Malfoy during this time?” A witch asked.  Kelly shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

“I do,” Hermione rose to her feet.  Both Harry and Ron sat up straight and stared at her, having not noticed her in the courtroom until now.  “While Theo was saving the muggle girls, Draco was in his drawing room, risking magical exhaustion to save my life while his aunt tortured me.  If he hadn’t been there, I’d be dead.”  Martin stepped forward again.

“And, I will remind the court, that had Hermione Granger died at that point in April, Auror Potter - would you have defeated Lord Voldemort?”

“Without Hermione?” Harry asked.  “I… I don’t know.  Probably not.  Minister, I have also given evidence as to Draco Malfoy’s actions that day.  I believe that he did his best to save us all, and also gave me his wand before we escaped.  That was the wand that ultimately killed Voldemort.”

“Thank you, Auror Potter,” Kingsley returned gravely, “and Miss McVey.  The gallery will now be cleared and the prisoners taken back into custody while we discuss the evidence given.  Mr MacMillan will remain in case clarification is required.”  There was a great shuffling of feet as the Aurors removed Draco and Theo from the cages and marched them back out, followed by everyone in the public gallery.

As they had prearranged, the small group of supporters apparated from the ministry to George’s flat, where Tebbit was waiting with lunch.  Both Kelly and Alice were included in this, Hermione and Ginny taking them by side-along apparition.  The lunch was quiet.  George and Blaise made heroic efforts at conversation, assisted by Kelly and Alice who were amazed by almost everything they saw - including Tebbit.  The four witches ate in silence, all looking terrified.  When they returned to the Ministry in the afternoon, Ron was waiting in the atrium.  He frowned when Hermione came in with her arm linked through Daphne’s, Blaise hovering protectively behind them both.

“Hermione, can we talk?”  She shook her head.

“Not now, Ron.”

Blaise attempted to steer both girls towards the lifts, and Ron stepped in front of them.  Hermione became aware of a low rumble behind her as Blaise growled at the unfortunate Auror.  Ron didn’t seem to be aware of this, and kept talking.  “But I wondered if you wanted to join me for dinner tonight?  I’ve got the night off, and I thought it might be nice to relax after this trial.”

“No thank you, Ron,” she returned automatically, allowing Blaise to steer her past Ron with his hand on her back, following the others into the lifts.

“I had hoped that maybe we could give things another go?” he continued, following her.  George, with a muttered curse and a eye roll that was directed at the furious Blaise, released Pansy’s hand and swung round, catching his brother by the shoulder as he attempted to follow them.  Pansy led the others into the lift as the two Weasley’s were left behind in the atrium, George’s head bent close to Ron’s ear.

“What’s he telling him?” Kelly asked.  

Ginny shook her head.  “I dread to think.  There’s never any telling with George.”

“Weasley needs a fucking kick,” Blaise muttered.  “She said no multiple fucking times!”

“Enough,” Daphne said firmly, and he subsided, looking chastened.  “You don’t get to take your stress over today out on an Auror, Blaise. That’s not going to help anything.  We need you here, not in a bloody cell.”  Hermione almost smiled at the expression on Blaise’s face.

“You can kick him later,” she said quietly, and he laughed.

“Maybe,” he agreed, as he ushered all the women out of the lift and back into the courtroom.

Chapter Text

The gallery was much emptier this afternoon, and the group once again seated themselves in the front row.  George slipped in a few minutes later, grinning provokingly at their curious glances.  It was some time before the court reconvened, this time with only Theo in the cage, and Hermione was relatively sure she was going to be sick by the time Percy Weasley stood up again.  A plump witch on the opposite side of the room also rose to her feet.

“For the Defendant Theodore Thoros Nott, charge of terrorism, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Not guilty,” the witch said.

“For the Defendant Theodore Thoros Nott, charged with the use of Unforgivable curses, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Not guilty,” the witch said again.  Ginny let out a long breath.

“For the Defendant Theodore Thoros Nott, charge of joining the organization known as the ‘Death Eaters’, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Not guilty.”

“For the Defendant Theodore Thoros Nott, charge of muggle baiting, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Not guilty.”

“For the Defendant Theodore Thoros Nott, charge of beaching the statute of secrecy and using magic in front of muggles, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Guilty,” the witch said.  Ginny, who had been almost on the edge of her seat, sank back with a low cry.  Theo paled.  “However,” the witch continued, “the Wizengamot recognizes that the magic was used in defence of the lives of the muggles in question, and considers that the time already spent in Azkaban awaiting trial is considered time served.  No further sentence will be given.”  Theo was beaming now, his eyes fixed on Ginny.

”Mr. Nott is cleared of all charges,” Kingsley said in his deep voice, “Further, in recognition of the risks taken by Mr. Nott to aid those fighting for the light within Hogwarts and his efforts on behalf of the muggle prisoners, the Wizengamot sees fit to award him the Order of Merlin, 3^rd Class.”  Theo’s mouth dropped open, and Ginny led the cheering that greeted this announcement from the public gallery.  “Auror Weasley, please free Mr. Nott and return his possessions to him.  Auror Potter, please fetch Mr. Malfoy.”

Ginny was already scrambling over people to get out of the gallery, and bolted down the stairs to the courtroom floor just as Ron unlocked the cage and released the handcuffs.  Theo caught her as she jumped, wrapping both her arms and legs around him.

“I told you!  I told you!” she gasped, between kisses.  They were both laughing and crying as they made their way out, where a subdued Ron handed over Theo’s wand and clothes. Ginny pushed him in the direction of the nearest bathroom.

“Change quick,” she urged.  “We need to see Draco.”  Ron, on his way back into the courtroom, froze.

“So - you and Nott?” he asked.  Ginny nodded.  “Does mum know?”

“Not yet.  I’ll tell her after this is all over.”

“You’re sure about him?  Instead of Harry?”  Ginny sighed.

“Theo treats me like an equal, Ron.  He didn’t try to shove me into a castle and hope I was safe, he was there with me and we kept each other safe.”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck.  “And… he loves you?”

“Immeasurably,” Theo himself said, having changed his clothes at light speed and emerged from the bathroom in time to hear this last question.  “Weasley,” he added, offering Ginny his arm and Ron a formal nod.  Ron returned it automatically as they disappeared through the door to the gallery, and then hurried to resume his own place beside a somewhat devastated looking Harry, who was watching Theo shaking hands with Blaise and George while still clamping Ginny firmly to his side with his free arm.

“You and me both, mate,” he muttered out the corner of his mouth.

 Percy was on his feet again, with a wizard this time.  The wizard was looking at Draco with extreme dislike.  Draco himself looked like he was going to be sick, and Hermione had her own hand clamped over her mouth.  “For the Defendant Draco Lucius Malfoy, charge of terrorism, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Not guilty,” the wizard said.

“For the Defendant Draco Lucius Malfoy, charged with the use of Unforgivable curses, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Guilty.” The word rang round the courtroom, and Draco’s shoulders slumped.

“For the Defendant Draco Lucius Malfoy, charge of joining the organization known as the ‘Death Eaters’, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Guilty.”

“For the Defendant Draco Lucius Malfoy charge of muggle baiting, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Not guilty.”

“For the Defendant Draco Lucius Malfoy, charge of beaching the statute of secrecy and using magic in front of muggles, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Not guilty.”

“To be fair, he didn’t,” Theo murmured in Ginny’s ear.  She squeezed his arm.

“I can’t believe you rescued all those girls,” she whispered back.  He shrugged.

“Someone had to.”

“Gryffindor.”

“Maybe, love.  Maybe.”

“For the Defendant Draco Lucius Malfoy, charge of the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Guilty.”

“For the Defendant Draco Lucius Malfoy, charge of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, how does the Wizengamot find?”

“Not guilty.”

Theo blew out a long breath and exchanged looks with Blaise over Ginny’s head.  “Best we could hope for, really,” he said softly.  Blaise nodded his agreement.  Kingsley got to his feet.

“The court takes into account that despite being found guilty of attempted murder and use of the Imperious curse, Mr. Malfoy caused no lasting harm to either of the victims who were accidentally injured by his plans.  The court also takes into consideration the number of lives saved by Mr. Malfoy during his time as a spy, particularly those muggle-born first year students who will be starting at Hogwarts this year instead of last, and due to the information he provided escaped capture and imprisonment in Azkaban.”

“Mr. Malfoy.  You did many admirable things during the war.  You also did some truly heinous things.  You are sentenced to one year of probation, to be served under the supervision of Headmistress Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts School.  You will submit to monthly wand checks, and are prohibited from casting any offensive spell outside of an educational environment.  Headmistress McGonagall has requested that we also appoint Miss Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class, as a parole supervisor, allowing Mr Malfoy to leave the castle during holidays, and the court is pleased to grant this request.  Please understand, Mr Malfoy, that any illegal activity during the next twelve months will result in an immediate return to Azkaban, and there will be no further leniency.  I understand that Miss Granger is present today, so Auror Potter, please release Mr Malfoy and hand him and his belongings over to Miss Granger.”  Hermione, looking pale and shaken, made her way to the floor where a still-upset Harry pushed Draco towards her and handed her a bag of belongings.  Hermione took Draco’s hand and pulled him out of the courtroom before turning and wrapping him in her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair.

“Sorry?  For what?”

“Everything,” he replied desperately.  She hugged him tighter as the rest of their friends appeared from the gallery, bouncing with joy.  Hermione surrendered Draco to Theo, who also hugged him.

“We did it!” he exclaimed.  “We did it, Draco.  We’re free!”

“And you, you lucky bastard,” Blaise added, smacking Draco on the shoulder.  “How the fuck do you get convicted of attempted murder and sentenced to a year of living with your girlfriend?  Hey, Daph!  I’ve tried to kill Theo loads of times.  Do you think if I own up to it, we can move in together?”

“Don’t you dare,” Daphne replied, laughing.  “We’re all going back to Hogwarts anyway, aren’t we?”

“All of us,” Theo grinned.  “Come on, Blaise.  He’s still in shock - let’s get him properly dressed and then we’re all off to Parkinson House.  Pansy and George have gone to negotiate a party with Tebbit.”

“What do we do?” Kelly asked.  She and Alice were on the edge of the group, looking slightly lost.

“Come with us,” Daphne said immediately.  “You were absolutely amazing today.  You’re one of us now.  Two of us.”

“Hermione, Ginny.”  It was Harry’s voice.  The two girls detached themselves from the celebration and made their way over to where he and Ron were standing.  “Let’s be very blunt about this,” Harry said gruffly.  “You,” he looked at Ginny, “Are clearly in a relationship with Nott, and according to George, Hermione is is a relationship in all but name with Malfoy.  Ron and I can accept that we are out the picture.  Neither if us is going to pretend that we understand, because frankly we think you’re both insane, but you want what you want and I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it.  We hope,” he added, nudging Ron, who did his best to stop scowling, “That we can stay friends.”

“I am sorry, Harry,” Ginny said slowly.  Draco and Theo reappeared from the bathroom and made their way towards them.  “Theo and I spent so much time together last year that we just… fell in love.  I can honestly say that I’ve never felt for anyone what I do for Theo.”  Harry nodded miserably, and pushed his glasses up his nose before holding out his hand to first Draco, and then Theo.  Looking slightly stunned, they both shook it.

“Congratulations both of you on the verdicts today.  They were deserved.  And Nott?”

“Theo,” corrected Theo.

“Theo…” Harry repeated, with an expression of distaste.  He jerked his head towards Ginny.  “Congratulations.”

Theo smirked.  “Ladies choice, Potter. No hard feelings, yeah?”  He turned away, heading with Ginny to the apparition point.

“I’ll be watching you both,” Ron told them, his arms firmly folded.  “One toe out of line, one word I don’t like to either of them and I’ll arrest you both.  Especially you, Malfoy.  I don’t like Nott but I really can’t stand you.”

Harry sighed in frustration.  “I thought we said you were going to keep your mouth shut?”

“No, you said that,” Ron argued.  “I never thought that was a good idea.”

“I have that problem too,” Draco observed to Harry, indicating the departing Theo, who called,

“Fuck you, Malfoy!” over his shoulder, still grinning.

“Even in court he can’t shut his smart mouth,” Draco finished.  “However, it was nice talking with you boys but we are due at a party, I believe?  We’ll see you around.”

“Come with us,” Hermione suggested, impulsively.  The look of incredulity that she received from Harry and Ron was only beaten by the one she received from Draco.

“No, I don’t think so,” Ron replied coldly.  “Socializing with a Malfoy’s not really my cup of tea.”

“Fuck you too, Weasley.  Bye, Potter.  What were you thinking?” Draco demanded in an undertone, as they headed for the apparition point.  

Hermione shrugged.  “They’re my friends!” she protested.  “I thought… I thought we could maybe get past all the playground rivalry and you know, actually see each other for the decent men you are.”

“Quite aside from anything else, Hermione, I am now officially a criminal, and they are Aurors.  Hardly the most natural of bedfellows.  Shall I apparate?”  He held out his arm, and she took it automatically, her response being lost as he spun them both and apparated to Pansy’s home.

Pansy, George, and Tebbit had clearly been preparing for this outcome in advance.  Hermione presumed that if either of the boys had actually been sent to Azkaban, they’d have been sipping tea quietly in George’s flat and consoling each other.  Instead, Pansy had opened the ballroom at Parkinson House, decorated it, and Tebbit had clearly had a field day preparing the food.  George’s influence was visible in the thousands of charmed bubbles which floated near the ceiling, popping occasionally and giving off puffs of coloured smoke when they did so.  As they’d been charmed by George, the smoke given off was red and gold.  Blaise and Theo were amusing themselves by turning it green and silver every time they remembered.  

Their own friends were there, Ginny and Theo still yet to let go of each other, as well as George's friends, Kelly and Alice, and as many others as Pansy could find.  A cheer went up as Draco and Hermione entered, someone pushed glasses of champagne into their hands, and the evening began.

Much later, Hermione was cooling down on the terrace outside the ballroom when a lot of noise and cheering attracted her attention.  She returned to the door in time to see a decidedly tipsy Pansy march Katie Bell forward, while Theo and Blaise flanked a reluctant Draco.  As Hermione watched, Theo calmly removed the drink from Draco’s hand and drained it as Blaise pushed on his shoulders, sending him to his knees in the middle of the dance-floor.  There was a hush, but Hermione was too far away to hear what was said before Katie extended a hand and pulled Draco back to his feet.  The circle broken up, laughing, and Hermione saw Draco approach Katie again, this time alone in a corner, and bend his head to say something to her.  Katie nodded firmly and then, in a move that seemed to surprise them both, gave him an awkward hug.  Hermione drew back from the door.

A few moments later, Draco himself, now in possession of another glass of Firewhisky, appeared on the terrace.  He didn’t notice her at first, and instead leaned on the stone balustrade, swirling the liquid in his glass idly as he stared out over the garden.

“That looked embarrassing,” Hermione said quietly, coming to stand beside him.  He shrugged.

“Won’t be the last embarrassing apology I have to make, will it?  Apparently Pansy promised her I’d get on my knees, or some such crap, and you know, what Pansy wants...” he tailed off as Hermione nodded sympathetically.  “Anyway, I nearly killed the girl.  A bit of ritual humiliation is a small price to pay, if you think about it.”

“What did you say to her afterwards?”

“Went to make sure she knew I was genuine.  The whole thing seemed like a waste of time otherwise.”

“I see,” Hermione said.  After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again.  “So, your trial is over.”

“It is,” Draco agreed.

“And you’re not going to Azkaban.”

“No, not today.”

Hermione slapped his arm in irritation.  “Not at all!” she corrected.  He nodded.

”OK.  Not at all.”

“So, do you still want…” Hermione began, and then broke off with a groan. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Draco, kiss me!”  For a second, there was no response, and then there was a slight clink as Draco put his glass down on the stone railing.  He turned towards her, his hand coming to rest lightly on her hip.

“Are you sure?” he asked urgently.  Hermione nodded.  “Because if we do this - I’m not doing casual, Hermione.  I’d rather have nothing than casual, do you understand?”

“I don’t want casual,” Hermione replied quickly.  “I want you.  Completely and entirely.  Broken bits and everything.”

“I’m going to need to fix the broken bits,” Draco said.  “I was thinking I - we - could see if St Mungo’s would recommend a Mind Healer.”

“We can certainly look into that,” Hermione agreed.

Draco turned to look into the ballroom, where Theo and Ginny were wrapped in each other’s arms in the middle of the dance floor, swaying together.  “I want that,” he whispered.  “I want that with you.”  

Hermione felt relief and adrenaline flood through her in a mighty wave, and reached up to turn his face back towards her.  She stretched up until their lips were millimeters apart, and whispered, “Then take it.”

Draco’s mouth was on hers almost before she’d finished the last word.  He moaned at the contact, and she deepened the kiss, clinging to his shoulders as he picked her up and sat her on the wide railing.

“Do you want to dance, or do you want to leave?” she asked, when she broke away.

He groaned, desperately.  “Both,” he said.  Hermione jumped down and took his hand.

“Then we dance first, and then leave.  We’ve waited over a year for this, Draco.  We can manage a few more hours to celebrate the fact that you are not going to Azkaban.”

“I’m not,” Draco repeated, wonderingly.  “I was so scared - when Potter told me Theo got off - all I could think about was going back there alone.”

“Don’t think about it,” Hermione said, pressing her hands to his cheeks.  “Come on.  Dance with me.  We can think about it and process it all later, when we’re alone.”

He nodded firmly, and, taking her hand, led her onto the dance floor.  When he took her in his arms and they danced, a hush fell over the room.  It was broken, typically, by a piercing whistle from George and a yell from Pansy.

“About bloody time!” she shouted, her voice echoing around the hall.  Laughter broke out around them, and Hermione saw even Draco grin, just before Theo’s hand landed on his shoulder and his spare arm wrapped round Hermione’s shoulder.  They stopped moving in time for Ginny to barrel into the other side of them.

“Finally,” Theo said, beaming.  “I honestly thought you’d never get there, Draco.”

“He was always going to get there,” Ginny said, her head resting against Hermione’s.  “They were in love long before we were.  They’re just too bloody stubborn for their own good.  And now I have to get along with a bloody Malfoy.”

“At least there’s only one of me.  I’ve got two Weasley’s to deal with already,” Draco grinned back.  “Now piss off and let me dance with my girlfriend.”

Theo and Ginny both released them, laughing, and returned to their own dance.

“No going back now,” Hermione whispered.  “All our friends are in favour of this.”

“No going back ever,” Draco replied.  “I told you, the first time I kissed you - after the war.  We made it, Hermione.”

“We did,” she agreed.  “And now, I think we’ve done enough dancing.  Take me home.”

“Where is home?” Draco asked, with a sudden realisation.  

Hermione laughed.  “Good point.  Take me to George’s.  That’s where I’ve been staying - in his spare room.”  Draco grinned, and obliged, apparating them into the night, and into their future.