Disclaimer: I claim no ownership whatsoever of Harry Potter or any related properties.
A/N: I kind of love AS/S, and I wanted something fun to work on in the HP realm that wasn't a seven book AU (no clue when I'll get work done on that particular project that's been stewing since Sirius died in book 5). Needless to say, I don't need more fanfic projects, but damn it all I can't stop starting new ones… And as always, I could use a competent beta or editor since I'm terribad at doing it myself. Thank you to Mr. Maxwell for leaving a splendiforous review.
Chapter I
True beginnings are hard to define; events will always refuse to be pinned down into tidy little line segments definitively placed in chronological order on some grand timeline. Every effect has a cause that stretches back into yet another cause, ad infinitum. But in this case, in this particular story, there is a narrative singularity—an exact moment when something ill defined grew into a new story. This beginning starts with: Harry Potter and the Sleeping Beauty Curse.
What is the Sleeping Beauty Curse you ask? And how did it involve Harry? As to those answers, my dear reader, you must press on to discover.
Ron Weasely stared at the still, pale body of his best friend (the one he wasn't engaged to) and wondered how on earth they were going to save the day this time, when their task was all but impossible.
"There's no way, absolutely no way," Ron said as vehemently as he could manage, "that that bloody arse-hole will agree to help." Harry lay on the bed looking like death barely warmed over. His room at Grimmauld place wasn't the brightest, so the lighting cast long shadows that seemed to lurk with
"There's no other choice, Ron," said his other best friend, and future wife. "I don't have the curse breaking skills to dismantle something this complex and esoteric, and we can't take him to anyone else."
"Damn it, Harry," Ron swore. They were both junior Aurors, but Harry still retained the inconvenient habit of finding his way into trouble, and the rule breaking instinct instilled in him by Dumbledore had reached a fever peak. The hag they'd been chasing enjoyed the nasty practice of eating Muggle children, and when she fled across the Channel, and out of their Ministry's jurisdiction, Harry had vowed to follow her. Little things like international boundaries and diplomatic disasters never bothered Harry when he was in the heat of the chase.
So Ron had dutifully followed, and Hermione joined them because she didn't trust the two of them to be out of sight, or reach, for an extended period of time. Ron remembered when her mothering would have irritated him or made him feel smothered. These days it made him feel warm and cared for, and a bit safer, because Hermione was still the brightest witch he knew.
Unfortunately, not even the Terrific Trio (the Prophet had come up with that in the hours after Voldemort's defeat) were immune to strong magic, the element of surprise, and a group of 6 hags led by a dark witch of great power. They'd made it out of the castle alive, with all the hags dead, but the witch had escaped, leaving Harry trapped in a dangerous curse from a needle stuck in his neck.
Luckily, Hermione had quickly identified the curse, and taken the appropriate counter measures to stabilize Harry. The curse launched the victim into a deep sleep, bordering on death, where they could linger for centuries, or die within hours if their body didn't adjust properly. A few stabilizing spells, one breathing spell, and a portkey later, Harry was on his bed in Grimmauld Place. They couldn't check him into any official curse-breaker, because the Sleeping Beauty Curse was endemic to the Italian Alps, and then the kneazle would be out of the expandable sack.
"Besides, Malfoy owes Harry a life-debt. At least one, two if you count Harry's intervention in the Trials. He'll be honor-bound to aid Harry, even if he only wants to be free from his debts. He has to help us." When Hermione spoke like that, Ron gave in. Not much could withstand the full might of Hermione Granger (soon to be Weasely) in her righteous fury, and a coward like Draco Malfoy wouldn't stand an ice-fairy's chance in Hell.
"All right, let's go visit the Malfoys," Ron said. Hermione stroked Harry's hair, smoothing it as best she could. Ron moved forward, and took her other hand and raised it up for a kiss.
"He'll be fine, I promise."
"I know he'll be fine," Hermione said softly, "this time. But next time? He's getting more reckless, Ron. I'm worried about him." Ron tucked Hermione under his arm, and gently cupped Harry's cheek. Stubble pulled at his calluses, and he felt his heart swell with affection and fear. They'd gone through too much together to lose each other now.
"We'll beat that troll when we get to the bridge," Ron said. "Now, how do we get in touch with the Ferret?"
"I trust you won't call him that to his face," Hermione said, giving him a strong look. "And actually, I think we should use Kreacher." At the mention of his name in the House of the Noble Blacks, the elf appeared looking far healthier than he had when they first met him in their fifth year.
"Master's friends is asking for Kreacher?" The elf looked up at them, and frowned. "Where is the Master?"
"Harry's cursed, Kreacher, and we need your help to heal him," Hermione said, and Kreacher turned around. He leapt up on the bed and frantically examined Harry. Finally he looked up at them with wide desperate eyes.
"What must Kreacher do? Kreacher is willing to do anything." Hermione walked forward, and bent slightly, to be on Kreacher's eye level.
"Can you bring a message to Draco Malfoy?"
"Of course Kreacher can," the elf said as if offended. "Is a simple thing to deliver a message."
"Then tell him that Harry needs his help, and he must come with you to Grimmauld place," Hermione continued. Kreacher nodded, his ears flapping, and vanished with a pop. A second later he appeared with a still sleeping Malfoy who now lay next to Harry on his bed.
"Bloody Hell," Ron swore loudly, because Draco Malfoy slept in the nude. Malfoy murmured something in his sleep and tried to burrow into the cover, scooting up flush against Harry's body.
"Oh, Kreacher, you weren't supposed to—," Hermione amended as the elf looked up at her fiercely.
"Kreacher knows the smell of dark magic, and Kreacher will do anything to save his Master." Hermione waved her wand, and conjured a gray sweat suit for Malfoy to wear. At the sudden feel of cloth and strange magic, Malfoy woke up, and promptly screamed.
"POTTER," he whirled around. "WEASELY? GRANGER? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"
"Stop yelling, Malfoy," Ron snapped. "We need your help."
"You—You've abducted me," Malfoy said, the more awake he grew so too the more aghast. "You've kidnapped me. Let me go, or I'll—my fa—I didn't do anything." Malfoy looked around frantically, clearly hoping to escape.
"MALFOY," Ron yelled, and the other man froze at his tone. Ron was ready to start hexing the helpless Malfoy if he wasn't willing to help. "Harry's stuck under a curse, the Sleeping Beauty Curse, and we need you to break it." Malfoy looked up at him, almost vulnerable with his sleep tossed hair and big gray eyes. The time since the war had been kinder to Malfoy than he had any right to, but there was still the air of a prisoner about him.
"Me? What? You take me hostage to break a spell on Potter?" Ron bit his tongue and looked to Hermione. He didn't trust himself to speak civilly to Malfoy.
"Please, Malfoy, we need you to help, and you owe Harry a life debt, right? So this is your chance to repay it," Hermione said. As the reality of the situation settled in, Ron watched as Malfoy seemed to regain his poise. He looked down at Harry, and gently edged off the bed, standing on the opposite side from Ron and Hermione.
"Well, I'm not surprised that Potter finally fell prey to his ego. I take it that since he's not at St. Mungo's he was pursuing an… extracurricular assignment?" That sounded much more like the old Malfoy, the one Ron would happily hex into oblivion.
"That's not your concern, Malfoy," Ron practically growled, slipping his wand out of his sleeve. Malfoy's eyes narrowed in on the wand, and Ron watched as the other man realized he was at their mercy. "You owe your freedom and your life to Harry, you should be jumping at the chance to do something good, for once."
"Jumping? I don't think so, I never asked Potter to save me," Malfoy drawled, and Ron nearly saw red. "Don't have a fit, Weasely, I know what I owe Potter, and the idea of clearing the debt is more than pleasing, as I suspect Granger deduced."
"It wasn't a difficult conclusion to come to, either you would be self-serving as always, or you'd have grown a conscience," Hermione said, her voice cold, and something flashed in Malfoy's eyes.
"Only a fool thinks altruism is the sole source of good deeds," Malfoy replied sharply. Then he sighed. "Now what exactly is it that I need to do, that you two can't, or won't."
"Have you never heard of the Sleeping Beauty Curse?" Hermione asked, a bit archly. Malfoy scowled.
"I sleep with witches, Granger, not with books and gingers." Ron reflected on the fact that even a year ago, he might have hexed Malfoy for saying that. Now, he got angry, but he restrained himself. Hermione ignored Malfoy with the calm of long practice at ignoring idiots, and kept talking.
"The curse suspends the victim in a death-like state, that they can only be awakened from by their greatest adversary."
"Ah, I see. And with the Dark Lord, and the good Professor Snape dead, I am Potter's greatest enemy? How… flattering," Malfoy drawled. "So tell me, how do I wake him? What great feat must I perform to break the curse?"
"He won't do it," Ron said for the final time. Hermione ignored him as easily as she did Malfoy.
"With a kiss," she explained. "A simple kiss on his lips should wake him up." The room was silent for a few moments as Malfoy visibly digested the information.
"I'm sorry, but did you just say I have to kiss Potter?" Malfoy spoke very slowly.
"Yes. It's the best way to break the spell without a master curse-breaker, and it's the traditional remedy." Ron frowned, when Hermione was talking, he'd seen a strange expression flash over her face. She was lying about, or hiding, something. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, too engrossed in what he was expected to do.
"See, he's not going to do it, we're better off," Ron started to say they'd have more luck trying to portkey Bill back from China, but Malfoy interrupted him
"I never said no, Weasely, if only because Potter is clearly in danger, and I refuse to be less of a man than he." Here Malfoy paused to look down his nose at Ron, a bit of a feat since Ron was taller than Malfoy. "Of course, were it you, I'd be happy to let you rot."
The effort Ron put into not punching Malfoy in the face until he couldn't talk anymore was Herculean in scope.
"If you're done antagonizing Ron, you need to kiss him on each cheek, and then on the mouth."
"Left to right, I assume?" Malfoy asked, and Hermione nodded, which made Ron even angrier. Just because Malfoy knew Arithmancy and liked showing off didn't mean Hermione should encourage him! Ron knew his jealously wasn't very coherent, but one of the things he'd grown to discover was that emotions felt every which way they pleased, only actions dictated which were validated (this was mostly word for word something Hermione said).
Still, Malfoy was a prat, and ruined the air just by breathing it; Ron would be relieved when this was all over.
"Very well, if the two of you would turn around," Malfoy said, "I'll do it."
"Oh no, we're not giving you a chance to do something to Harry," Ron began but Malfoy's sneer interrupted him.
"If I wanted to do Potter harm, I wouldn't kiss him. This is embarrassing enough as is, so kindly turn the bloody fuck around," the blond man snapped. Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione pushed him around.
"Just do it." Ron sighed, and faced the wall. A moment later, he heard a gasp and a bright light filled the room.
"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, moving swiftly to his bedside and raising her wand. "Can you hear me?"
"Yeah," Harry said absently, but Ron noticed with a distinct feeling of apprehension that Harry was staring at Malfoy, and Malfoy seemed caught in Harry's gaze. "What happened? And why is Draco here?"
"Draco?" Ron was horrified to find himself and Malfoy squawking in tandem.
"You were cursed, and he was kind enough to break it," Hermione said as she swished her wand over Harry. "He seems fine."
"Thanks, Draco, always knew you were good underneath it all," Harry slurred with a smile, and then fell back asleep. Ron turned to see Malfoy flushed a furiously embarrassed scarlet.
"We-well, I see that I am no longer… needed," Malfoy said awkwardly. "I'll just be going then, I guess." Looking appalled at himself and confused beyond recognition, Malfoy Apparated out with a pop. Hermione had designed the wards, they didn't allow incoming Apparition, but outgoing was fine.
"And what was that all about?" Ron said, outraged, to Hermione. She sighed and glared at Ron.
"I don't know, Ron, okay? I don't have all the answers. Just," she took a deep breath, "let's just be glad Harry's all right now, okay?"
"All right," Ron said, drawing her into his arms. Her body fit against his with the ease of long practice, and Ron buried his face in her hair. She still used the Sleek Easy stuff that smelled like apples, and it comforted him.
"I need to lie down," Hermione said and Ron nodded.
"I'll keep a watch on him."
"Thanks," she said, kissed him on the cheek and left to seek more mattress-like pasture. Ron pointed his wand at a chair and made it recline able, and then fluffed up the pillows, before he sank into it.
"Cheers, Harry," Ron said to his sleeping friend, and leaned back to rest his eyes.
"WHAT?" Harry squawked. Ron let out a relieved sigh; at last his best mate was acting like himself again. Harry had slept for hours until finally he'd woken up the next morning confused and hungry. Harry was sitting at the kitchen table along with Hermione while Ron worked the range and cooked. Harry's plate was empty except for some toast that he was liberally slathering with butter and jam.
Ron had already dished up bacon and eggs with grilled tomatoes and mushrooms (Hermione had been insistent on Ron learning to cook, and much to his own surprise, he enjoyed it quite a bit) and Harry had devoured them with relish. Now Harry was snacking until Ron cooked up more bacon and sausages. A pot of beans was sitting hot on the counter, not moved to the table as Ron was helping himself to a bit of beans and toast before it vanished into Harry.
"Draco was very helpful," Hermione said with practiced calm. "And you were quite appreciative at the time."
"…what exactly does that mean?" Harry asked in a low wary tone after chasing his toast with some tea.
"You called him by his name, for one," Ron said as he flicked his wand at the stove, "and you told him you always knew he was a good guy under it all."
"I did WHAT?" Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, and stood up.
"When you two are done being children, I'll be in the library." Fixing up Grimmauld place had been a long and hard endeavor, but the house was now far warmer than it had ever been. The library had been Hermione's personal pet project, and as such had fast become a repository for any unusual or interesting tome the three of them picked up. Needless to say, she spent as much time in the library as she could, practicing obscure spells and doing research more befitting an Unspeakable than a political activist, especially after having to save Harry from some previously unknown bit of magic, and she kept finding the most useful little spells.
Having a smart girlfriend (fiancé!) was proving quite the pleasure for the long haul, in Ron's opinion.
"What did I say, exactly," Harry asked emphatically, his hands bracing him against the back of a chair. Ron, long used to reading Harry's body language, could see the confusion but no real surprise.
"What I said, mostly. You woke up, asked what was going on, and why 'Draco' was there," Ron said, sneering as he said Malfoy's name. "Then you told him you knew he was good underneath it all. That's it."
"Oh," Harry said. Ron looked at him quizzically, and then checked the sausages.
"You don't seem surprised," he said, his back to Harry as he focused on switching out the sausages and bacon and putting a stasis spell on them so they stayed hot, and then summoned some potatoes from the pantry for a bit of mash.
"I guess I'm not," Harry said, coming up beside Ron and reaching for a bit of bacon, yelping when the spell sparked at his fingers.
"Oh you big strong Auror you," Ron chuckled and took the spell off with a gesture. He was nowhere near as adept at wandless magic as Harry, or Hermione even, but then again very few were, and he was still quite good for simple things.
"Wanker," Harry said cheerfully as he munched on a hot sausage and filched a couple slices of bacon before Ron reset the spell. Ron set the potatoes to mash themselves and the ingredients lined up to hop in the pot when ready. "You've gotten really good at kitchen magic, mate."
"I guess years of watching Mum paid off." Ron looked at Harry. "So?"
"It's complicated," Harry said and Ron snorted derisively. "What? It is."
"Harry, if after everything we've been through, you still think you can," Ron started saying and Harry held up his hands in defeat.
"Okay, okay, I get it, Hermione," he said and Ron gave him a good-natured thwack upside the head. After an exaggerated wince, Harry sighed and started to speak again. "I guess… well, you know… It's just, if Malfoy hadn't been raised by—I think that without his father, Malfoy might have been an all right sort."
Harry had never been known for his eloquence, but neither had Ron, only constant exposure to Hermione had allowed both of them to learn how to make a point. In deference to his training, Ron didn't let himself open his mouth until he'd thought about what Harry'd said.
"I reckon he might have been, but I'd wager galleons to grasshoppers he'd still be a stuck-up spoiled prick."
"Yeah, you're right," Harry said with a light laugh.
"I get your meaning, though. I don't know, I mean, I still think he's a tit and a bloody mean bastard, but he was in an impossible situation during the war, I get that." And he did, Ron understood loyalty and family better than most. His family had included Harry and Hermione for more than half his life, and he'd risked his life for theirs more times than he could count. "What I don't get is why looked like it was the best bit of news you could've gotten."
"I can't control how I look," Harry protested and Ron snorted.
"I know that, but you looked awfully happy."
"Well I guess I was happy he saved my life," Harry replied and Ron rolled his eyes. "You know? It's like… what we all went through, it wasn't the end, you know?"
"Whatever," he said and tapped the pot full of mash. It was done, so he took the spell off the sausages and bacon and pulled out the tray of beans from the oven. "Grubs up."
"Right," Harry said, clearing a space for and putting down some potholders. Ron always smiled when Harry or Hermione did chores, they thought first with their hands rather than their wands.
"I got it, you sit and eat." As Aurors they had learned that magic drained the body of its resources, and after many curses it was vitally important to eat and drink rich nourishing food. There was a reason the food at Hogwarts was heavy as all get-out. Sometimes a curse could be cured, but have so badly drained someone that if they didn't watch out they could die from hunger or dehydration.
Harry sat down a bit too heavily, and Ron watched him closely for signs of exhaustion. The witch who'd cursed him had been very powerful, certainly not on the level of You Know Who, but you didn't have to be one of the most powerful wizards ever to pack a nasty wallop, just clever and cruel.
"'M fine, Ron," Harry mumbled around a mouthful of beans on toast.
"Yeah, sure you are, mate," Ron said easily, helping himself to bacon and buttered toast. Harry was devouring food like Charlie after a hard day with the dragons, and that was a sight that left Ron awestruck time and again on matter how many times he saw it. The sound of the Floo flaring up had both of them looking at the door to see who'd wander in. Only a select group could freely Floo to Grimmauld place, and visitors before noon were an even smaller pool to draw from.
So when Ginny stormed in followed be an amused Neville, neither of them were surprised. Ron took one look at his sister, and swiftly moved back to the range. It'd be best if he busied himself with washing up a bit, and deflect Ginny's wrath onto Harry. Neville dropped himself into a chair and swiped a bit of bacon and biscuit as Ginny erupted.
"Harry what the hell is the matter with you?" Ginny yelled as Harry, looking a bit queasy and frightened, attempted to shrink into a ball. It still amused Ron that after all the dark wizards and witches they'd fought, a woman scorned was still able to frighten the piss out of them. "I know Ron and Hermione are helpless with setting limits but this is the end of it! No more unsanctioned trips out of country! No more chasing after dark wizards without back up! And no more not TELLING YOUR BLOODY GIRLFRIEND WHEN YOU'VE BEEN CURSED OR THAT YOU'RE LEAVING AT ALL!"
"How could I tell you I was cursed after I was cursed?" Harry protested and Neville laughed. Ginny, her face bright red with Weasely anger, snarled and stabbed at Harry with her wand. As she stormed out her Bat Bogey Hex left Harry yelping and stumbling onto the kitchen floor. Once she was out of view, Neville waved his wand at Harry and the removed the hex.
"You're a bit of a glutton for punishment, aren't you, Harry?" Ron grinned, leaving the pots to soak and sat back down at the table. Harry glowered at him as he lowered himself into his chair, gingerly rubbing his nose.
"Bloody coward you are," he said and Ron rolled his eyes.
"Self preservation isn't a sin." Neville snorted again and started dishing up a plate.
"You know, Ron, you're just as good as Hogwarts cooking," Neville said and Ron flushed. He knew he was a decent cook, but that was a bit much.
"Don't bother, Neville, he's in a "no compliment" mood," Harry said and Ron frowned at him.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
"Only you always you do this, after I—well recover," Harry said and Ron glared at him. Sometimes Harry thought he knew a bit more than he thought he did. Or something to that effect. "You start to worry and Hermione does too and then she has to go research something until she calms down and you make a whole mess of food. Happens every time."
"Every time you scare the lot of us by going off the deep end without a broom?" Neville said mildly and Harry sighed. There were some days Ron missed the old Neville, not because he wanted Neville to be timid and self-conscious, but because the new Neville was far too bloody keen and even-tempered. Now he was a wizard who could do more with a quiet word than most with a shout.
On the other hand, it meant that Neville was one of the few people who could get through to Harry. Ron knew he was Harry's best mate, but sometimes that worked against him when trying to get Harry off his quest for saving things.
"What was I supposed to do? There were children in danger," Harry said and Neville nodded.
"I don't dispute that, but if something happened to you, Harry, you wouldn't be able to help any more children," he pointed out. "Let alone the grieving friends you'd leave behind." Harry flushed, suitably chastened, and Ron marveled once again at the difference between the Neville they'd been at school with, and the calm confident man he was now.
And thank Merlin Harry listened to him, because Ron and Hermione were entirely too much like family for Harry to pay much attention to, which was wearing on both of them. Hermione still had a certain amount of sway over Harry, but Ron, as the official Best Mate for the Boy Who Lived, seemed to have about as much influence with Harry as the wind.
"And what about Teddy?" Neville said, his voice soft as feathers, and now Harry looked stricken and Ron was moved to defend him.
"At least he's not completely suicidal, he does tell us," Ron put in and Neville looked at him with dry bemusement.
"And yet you don't ever seem to inform the rest of us before you embark on these little adventures." Now Ron knew he was flushing and Harry was shooting him a rueful grin.
"When did you get so old?" Ron asked and Neville laughed.
"Apprentice Professors either grow up fast or get trod on by students," he said.
"How is Hogwarts?" Harry asked and Neville smiled.
"It's brilliant. Although Professor Snape's portrait insists upon visiting my quarters at the oddest hours."
"Bloody Snape," Ron said, but without rancor. Harry and he and Hermione had campaigned hard for Snape to have a portrait created, and although he wasn't yet allowed to rest in the Headmaster's office, Harry wasn't letting up on Snape getting his due treatment.
The man had been an utter bastard, but there was no denying he was one of the bravest, strongest and greatest wizards of the last century. Not that Ron would ever, ever, say any of that aloud, and it didn't mitigate the man's sheer level of wankery (Ron's inner Hermione chimed in saying that "wankery" was not a word).
"The student body is even smaller than when we were in school, but Professor Vector tells me that attendance should begin steadily picking up within another year or two, and we can expect full attendance in another fifteen years or so." Hermione still wrote letters to her old Professors, and Ron had once seen one she sent to her Arithmancy professor, and had been unaware that magical math involved so many letters, instead of numbers.
"Good, that's good," Harry said.
"So, what was the curse?" Neville asked as he ate some more. Harry paled and looked at Ron who smiled at him wickedly.
"The Sleeping Beauty Curse," Ron said sly as a cat with cream, and Harry clenched his jaw and glowered. Neville took in the interaction with amused curiosity. "And you'll never guess what the cure was."
"Kissing Draco Malfoy?" Harry and Ron gaped at Neville who picked up his tea and with great calm sipped. "I told you, Professor Snape drops by all the time."
"But how did he know?" Harry asked in a high voice.
"Apparently he's still very close with Draco," Neville said. "I heard all about it earlier this morning before I went to meet Gin in Hogsmeade. He said that Draco sounded quite confused about it."
"Confused?" Harry said in alarm and Neville snickered.
"Not like that, Harry, just, you know, it's a bit odd for him to have done something… nice for you."
"'S not like he did of his own free will," Ron mumbled.
"But he did, didn't he?" Neville asked again in that quiet knowing voice. Perhaps it was something about being professor, Ron decided. "And that's quite a change of pace, for him. He's been very lonely since the war ended, Professor Snape tells me, shut up in that massive house of his with just his parents and marauding Aurors."
Lucius Malfoy was on house arrest for the rest of his natural life. His wand had been snapped and he was forbidden from doing magic. Because of Malfoy and Narcissa's contributions at the end of the war, they were spared any substantive punishment, and although Ron would happily watch the Malfoy prestige disintegrate, he knew that there had been more than a few Aurors all too happy to take up routine investigations at the manor and get a bit of their own payback in.
"What do you mean, marauding Aurors?" Harry asked pointedly and there were times Ron despaired of Harry's innate sense of justice and his outrageous naivety. You'd think the wizard who offed You Know Who would be a bit savvier than Harry seemed to be. Harry could detect pure evil at 500 paces, but good dipping its toe into the darker side passed over his head like Quaffle thrown wide.
"You didn't know?" Neville asked and Ron flushed. Harry zoomed in on him like a hawk, his green eyes glinting fiercely.
"What's he talking about, Ron?"
"You know the Malfoys are on probation," Ron said slowly, carefully. When Harry was fired up caution was the best tact to take.
"At this point it's just Lucius," Harry responded and Ron held up a hand.
"That's the law of the letter, but since Lucius is still the paterfamilias, it effectively means they're all under probation. So Aurors have been known to… extend their visits."
"Like who?"
"I don't know, Harry, they don't walk around talking about it, 'Oh you went over to the Malfoy place today? Didja frisk the old lady? She's a bleeding beauty that one is.' It's a dirty little secret, and people don't like to talk about those kinds of things around you, on account of disappointing Harry Potter is like disappointing the Queen for Muggles or something."
"That's horseshit," Harry swore, standing up. "And it's wrong."
"Whoa, hold on there mate, no sense in blowing up about it." Ron honestly didn't see it as a grave injustice, but Harry clearly did, and when Harry went off half-cocked… Well then they wound up halfway across Europe chasing hags and dark witches.
"You knew about this?" Harry stared at Ron aghast and he shrugged.
"I suspected, Neville confirmed it just now. I figure they figured any word I get is tossed in your ear quick as a fiddle, so it wasn't talked up around me. But it makes sense."
"How do we stop it?" Ron shrugged again, just because Narcissa and Malfoy—all right—Draco, weren't evil didn't mean they shouldn't get a bit of comeuppance.
"Perhaps it could be a duty you request?" Neville spoke up and Harry's eyes lit.
"That's brilliant, Nev, they'd never turn down a request from me."
"Fame-whore," Ron teased him good-naturedly and Harry scowled at him in the same vein, before breaking into a rueful grin. Whatever problems they had, they would face together, even if those problems were Malfoy-aid related. And if keeping an eye on the Malfoys kept Harry out of trouble, then that was just the perfect bonus.
And that dear reader is where our introduction ends. If poor Ron had known at the time where this would all lead them, he might have fought a bit harder before letting Harry help the Malfoys. But, and this should be noted, only because he wouldn't have been there for the whole journey. The end result might very well have blown his mind. However let us take one thing at a time as all stories have their pace and rhythm carefully placed.