Author's Notes: Dear Reader,

I'm sorry I haven't gotten out a chapter in such a long time. Since I haven't looked at this story for a year or so, there's some fairly obvious differences in the HP Canon: Book 7 is out. As a result, I've decided to treat this story as a "replacement" for Book 7. Here are a few notes-

1. I'm not going to include the Deathly Hallows in this story, as I feel that they don't make too much sense ANYWAY. My own personal opinion, but a very good one.

2. There's going to be some OOC behavior, yes. However, please suspend your disbelief.

3. I suppose then that this makes this story AU. I haven't changed anything before the end of the sixth book, and I tried to keep this story the way that I thought the characters would progress naturally in the same situations. Please don't send me a lot of "NON-CANON CHARACTERS I HATE YOU" reviews as a result.

Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope to get this story out as soon as possible! I've completely fixed the outline and I've started work again.

Summary: Parties haven't been this much fun since there was a warrant out for your arrest. Bad humor, heavy drinking, horcruxes, werewolves, prison visits and picnics. Not to mention a terrible case of unrequited love and some morning-after surprises. Just like real life.

How to Catch a Criminal

Chapter 1

George Weasley sighed, picking through robes at Madam Malkin's and wringing his hands in disgust. "I don't want to wear any of this shit," he whined to his twin brother, who was equally disgusted by their available choices. "What does Fleur call this color, anyway? Vomit?"

Fred groaned and explained the color: "Apparently, it's in 'fash-een' in 'zee states' and Fleur wants her wedding to be as 'fash-een-able' as possible." George giggled and hit his brother on the back of the head, whipping the ugly dress robes around like a cape and prancing around the store, sticking his nose up in the air.

"I'M FLEEEEURRRRR AND I'M IN ZEE FASH-EEN BECAUSE I THROW UP EVERYTHING I EAAAAT," he slurred in her obnoxious, drunken French accent. Fred collapsed into guffawing laughter, knocking over a rack in his delighted stupor. Madam Malkin shot both of them disparaging looks and they blushed, embarrassed, muttering apologies quietly. They ran out of the store and laughed until their sides hurt, staggering around in the street and falling flat on their asses.

When they had finally calmed down, they sat down on the porch outside of the store, still catching their breath.

"See, Fred," George panted, "This is why we're best friends. Because we think everything absolutely alike."

"Yeah, you're just my better half." Fred smiled at him and hit his brother across the head, ignoring the silent scream of feigned pain he received in reply.

Both were dreading the wedding in mid-November of their older brother, Bill, to the aforementioned "love of his life," Fleur Delacour. Their only consolation to attending the wedding was that Ron would probably make a scene, attempting to steal their older brother's bride away for himself, overcome with jealousy. Fleur had sent over color patterns to Madame Malkin's, and the twins had been instructed (sternly, by their mother) to pick their robes to color-coordinate for the wedding. Fred and George had thought this a rather silly idea, threatening to come completely in the nude instead.

Fred ran after George as he skipped down the street, throwing rocks along the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, contemplating life. After all, their lives, at this point, weren't so bad at all. With the money Harry had given them completely paid back and their huge profits from last year, Fred and George were rolling in money. Their first project with their excess profits was to repair the roof on the Burrow and perform expansions on the kitchen, as a Christmas present to a delighted Mrs. Weasley, who cried and hugged them both until they turned purple.

The only problem they were facing was finding enough people to help run the store with them. Fred and George were always busy with new projects and practicing new experiments (usually testing them on family members), and most of their assistants in the shop were about to start school. The twins had, however, been able to blackmail Ginny into working with them on the weekends, when they were swarmed with young witches and wizards stocking up on products for school.

They stopped, out of breath, in front of the Leaky Cauldron and sauntered in, determined to drown the beautiful July afternoon inside, in a sea of alcohol and happiness. Fred ran ahead to grab a booth and George walked slower, a huddled, messy man catching his eye two tables down from the door-

Matted platinum blonde hair, gaunt cheekbones and hollow eyes stared back at him, and George realized that he was staring straight at Draco Malfoy. But instead of scowling at Draco like he normally did, George was overcome with a strange emotion that he couldn't quite place. Was this what sympathy felt like? George wasn't sure, but it felt fucking terrible.

Fred tapped his twin on the shoulder. "Hey, George, I've found us a booth. And what are you staring at?" George pointed towards the rain cloud of despair that was Draco at his table, and Fred rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to rescue the homeless. I hate your compassionate fits."

"No, idiot. That's Malfoy, right over there!"

"Blimey!" Fred widened his eyes and recognized the hair as well as George had, his eager smile dropping a notch.

"Doesn't he look wretched over there?" George lowered his eyes to the floor guiltily.

"George, since when do we ever care about Draco Malfoy?"

"Since it looks like he hasn't bathed in days. Besides, those girls over at the bar will think we're compassionate for taking some homeless chap."

"Good point. Let's go rescue him," Fred agreed, enthusiastically, eyeing the brunette in the tight red skirt ravenously. He shot her a wink and walked towards Draco's table with George.

Draco Malfoy looked up at them, tiredly. "Great: Weasleys. What the bloody hell do you two want?" He tried to spit the words out venomously but they ended up sounding defeated and ragged.

Fred and George sighed, sliding into the plush seat across from him and leaning forward. "Look, kid, we're just trying to help out. No offense, but you look like shit," George stated, surveying his broken-down appearance from a closer viewpoint. Fred nodded in agreement.

"Good guys finish last, I guess. Or homeless, in this case." Draco sighed and hunched his shoulders in a hopeless pose. "Just because I didn't want to be a death eater, apparently I'm unworthy of carrying the Malfoy lineage."

Fred and George looked up in shock, surprised. "Malfoy, you're the heir of all evil! What the fuck?" Fred exclaimed, surveying Draco's face for clues. "You had that attractive misunderstood villain look going on for you."

"Yeah, but I'm not the type. And now I'm stuck because you can't just go running to the Ministry with open arms shrieking 'I'm not evil anymore! Take me in!' It never works like that." He rolled his eyes and rested his head in his arms. "And I smell terrible! Malfoys aren't supposed to smell bad!"

Fred and George looked at each other and grinned, Fred sticking up an arm and motioning towards someone to wait on their table.

"Oh, great, what now? Sending some goons after me to beat my face in?" Draco sat up and gathered his things together before George motioned for him to sit down.

"Hardly. This situation calls for one thing- heavy drinking."

Later in the evening, Ginny was startled to discover a drunken heap of men inside her brothers' shop, laying on the floor and shrieking songs that hadn't been on the radio since the 1970's. She stood there, appalled, not knowing exactly what to say. They noticed she was downstairs and tried to wave her a hello, instead rolling back over each other into a mess of arms and legs.

"WHY, LOOK, GINERRRRVA," Fred shrieked, "WE'VE ADOPTED OURSELVES A MALFOY!"

Malfoy raised his arms and waved them around, giving her a drunken sloppy grin. Ginny just rolled her eyes and walked back upstairs, fully aware that she wasn't going to get any sleep that night.

Severus Snape pulled a letter out of his pocket, sitting down on a stump and lighting a match to read it clearly. He sighed and rested a hand on his pale, sweating forehead. Life was such a mess.

Severus Snape,

You are cordially invited to a celebration at Malfoy Manor on Saturday, September the 28th

The message had been sealed with the Malfoy crest in green wax and Severus knew that this wasn't a friendly invitation to one of Narcissa Malfoy's tea parties, where they normally would just eat a lot of cake and discuss bad fashion. This was more along the lines of a dark revel, the kind that Severus absolutely hated going to because watching someone tortured, publicly humiliated and killed wasn't the most interesting way to spend one of his evenings.

But life wasn't simple anymore, and he couldn't complain to Albus Dumbledore about how he hated being a spy, going undercover for information and risking his life because Albus wasn't there, with that familiar twinkle in his eye, and Severus wasn't a spy anymore. He was a full-fledged death eater. He'd proven himself to Voldemort, even though he hadn't really wanted to, but he was going to die either way, right?

Severus Snape had spent most of his nights lately lying in the forbidden forest, staring up at the stars and crying until he couldn't breathe.

He had killed Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, who had saved him from certain death numerous times and offered him a job when no one else would.

And for what? So what if he had saved Draco from having to kill him and ruining his own future- Severus didn't give a shit about his ungrateful, sniveling godson. The worst part was that sometimes, when he thought hard about the events of that night, he could swear that Dumbledore knew what he was about to do. The look Albus gave him as he uttered the "Avada Kedavra" wasn't disgust or hatred; it was pity, as though he was going to say "Oh, I'm sorry you've been put up to this. Kill me quickly. It's alright, there, have a lemon drop." It was as though before death, Albus had forgiven him, and that made Severus Snape sick to his stomach.

But if he killed himself at this point, what would have been accomplished at all?

"Did you see the cover of the Daily Prophet this morning?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sticking another large plate of eggs on her kitchen table. "Harry, here, eat some more of these." She motioned towards a plate of fresh bacon. "You always look so thin!"

"Mum, don't you know better than to believe that filth?" Bill Weasley sighed, sticking his fork into the plate of eggs and shoveling them into his mouth. "Oh and- mmm, these are good- Harry's always been that skinny." He shot Harry a conspiratorial wink and Harry grinned back, reaching for another pile of bacon to stick on his plate.

"You boys have always been so skinny." She pinched Harry on the cheek as he was chewing and he choked a little bit on his bacon, his cheeks turning slightly red. "No, but honestly, look at this: Murderer still on the run from the Ministry of Magic- Severus Snape, a natural killer?" Her face dropped and she went slightly pale, and as if in unison the entire table subconsciously went silent.

They had all trusted the former Professor- more than they would have liked to admit. Although not the most agreeable of men, he had brewed potions for the Order when they were in dire need of help, and had been trusted by Albus Dumbledore above almost everyone in the wizarding community. Thinking about Dumbledore was still painful, even to those who hardly knew him. To those held him closely in their hearts, it was even harder.

"Let's not talk about that traitor," Harry spoke, finally, breaking the silence. He tried to shake the trembling from his voice and pushed his plate away from the table, leaving his napkin on top of it. "I've got to go get my stuff together."

Bill and his mother watched sadly as Harry got up from his chair at their tiny, wooden table, slowly walking upstairs, his calm posture betraying the sadness that he was afraid to show.

Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger ran down the stairs gleefully, missing every other step in their excitement. Ginny did a graceful half-slide the rest of the way down the right banister and hopped down, running to her mother and grabbing her around the waist in a tight hug.

"What, you two, has Christmas come early this morning?" Molly Weasley laughed at her daughter's excitement, ruffling her hair and kissing her on the forehead.

Hermione laughed and shook her head, her eyes sparkling. "No, but has the owl post come yet?"

Right on cue, a swarm of owls flew through the kitchen window, dropping letters with them in the middle of random plates and all over the floor. Ginny and Hermione ran to catch the letters, dividing them up among the family.

Picking up a bundle, Hermione started to read off names "Alright, to Arthur Weasley- oh, this looks like a catalogue of some sort- and here's a letter from Fleur, for Bill- she's got such brilliant penmanship!" Bill reached up and grabbed the letter from her, blushing slightly as he placed it in his lap and opened it gingerly. "Here's a letter from Charlie to his darling mother," Hermione placed the dispatch on the counter for Mrs. Weasley to read when she was done clearing the table, "and here's our Hogwarts letters!" She picked up a bundle of yellowed letters, all with the Hogwarts red wax seal on the outside.

Harry grinned at her obvious excitement over anything academic and started to walk back down the stairs when he noticed a tall, burly messy boy walking down the stairs behind him, grumbling to himself and trying very hard not to fall.

"Go back to bed, Ron!" Ginny shouted. "It's not actually Christmas!" Ron mumbled something else incoherent and shook his hair out of his eyes, stomping his foot impatiently.

"Oh, no, I think our King Weasley's hungry." Hermione stated primly, grabbing the plate of still-warm leftover scrambled eggs and letting the smell waft in his direction. "Smells good, doesn't it? Mmmmm, eggs." Ginny and Harry laughed even harder as Ron's eyes widened, recognizing the familiar smell of fresh breakfast and as Ron stumbled down the stairs even faster, sliding on the wood floor towards the kitchen table and grabbing a handful of eggs, shoving them in his mouth. Every woman in the room protested, disgusted, at Ron's apparent lack of manners. Mrs. Weasley shoved a fork into his hand, appropriately.

"You weren't raised an animal, you know," she complained, throwing her hands up in the air and grabbing her letter from Charlie sitting on the counter. "I just don't know what to do with you sometimes, Ron." He grinned sheepishly and ate his eggs calmly, even grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth periodically to avoid angering his mother any further.

Meanwhile, Hermione had already opened the string-tied bundle of Hogwarts letters and was distributing them to everyone around. "Ooh, here's mine! Ron, I'll set yours down right here." Ron nodded and reached his egg-covered fingers towards the parcel. Hermione sighed, handing him a napkin first, and continued, setting her letter gracefully next to her seat. "And Ginny, yours is right here." Hermione tossed Ginny the letter as she ripped it open with ease, sliding out her sheet of courses for the year and a list of required books. "I think that's everyone, isn't it?"

"Are we going to need to take a trip to Diagon Alley for any supplies?" Mrs. Weasley asked, smiling as she read over the letter from her son. "Charlie says hello to all of you and that he's doing well. He's gone from Romania to Bulgaria again, working on illegal dragon trafficking laws."

"I think I'm going to need some new dress robes- I need that pair for the wedding, too. And I think I'm out of quills but I can pick those up when I go down to the shop tomorrow," Ginny said, folding up her letter and placing it neatly back inside the envelope. "I can pick up my books then, too. Oh- and send Charlie a hello from me!"

"OH OH OH OH! LOOK! I'M HEAD GIRL!" Hermione shrieked in glee, twirling around and tossing her new badge up in the air. "SEE, LOOK, I'VE GOT A BADGE! I REALLY DID IT!"

"Somehow, I knew that was going to happen," Harry laughed and gave her a hug, grabbing her letter and badge before she did any more damage to them in her wound up state. "You deserve it, Hermione." She hugged him back and grinned, her eyes shining slightly with tears.

"Mmm, wait, Harry, where's your letter? Does Hogwarts still think you're at the Dursleys' place?" Ron asked, surveying his letter quietly and with less enthusiasm than the rest of the table. "I want to know whether we have any classes together."

"Ron, my magical protection over at the Dursleys' expired when I turned 17. It's a lot safer for me to be here," Harry nodded and continued, in a quieter voice. "I've been thinking… look, Ron, I can't really go back there, to Hogwarts. I've got to keep looking for horcruxes and try to prepare for this 'prophecy' or whatever… and it's not safe for me to be at Hogwarts; It's too dangerous for the school right now…" Hermione rested an arm on his shoulder in support, closing her letter up and placing it in her pocket.

Ron's tired face slowly came to a realization and grew angry, his eyes losing their playful glow, instead shooting daggers towards Harry. "We're not going with you, are we- I'm not going with you."

"Ron, look, it's not like that…" Harry pleaded, walking backwards slightly.

Sitting up, Ron grew angrier. "Don't 'it's not like that' me, Harry! I'm your best friend, and you're not even going to let me go with you?" He was shaking in fury and slammed his fork down on the table. "We've done everything together since we were in school? Why the fuck can't I just help?"

"Because I don't want you to get hurt, alright?" Looking down, Harry avoided Ron's angry glare. "I need to fight this one myself. I'll need help from both of you; you're my best mates. It's not like I'm just going to forget about that." Harry turned away from them and walked back upstairs, sighing and running a hand through his hair.

Hermione looked down guiltily and Ron shot her a suspicious look. "You knew, didn't you? That he wasn't going to get a letter?"

"I was there with McGonnagal at Hogwarts when we talked about it, around June, back when you were visiting Fleur and Gabriella in Paris. We decided we'd tell you eventually," she shrugged and gazed at him contemplatively, "And I guess we'd just forgotten to. I didn't know that he wouldn't get a letter at all this morning, but I knew that he wasn't about to attend Hogwarts." Hermione reached out to give him a hug but he pulled away sharply, angling his body outward and facing away from her.

"Look… just give me some time to adjust to this, alright?" He sighed, defeated, as he walked through the main door of the house into the garden, to collect his thoughts.

Ginny gave Hermione a small smile. "He'll be okay, 'Mione. Just give him some time to think about it." She sighed back, running a hand through her hair and sitting down.

"I just didn't think it would be such a problem, you know?" Hermione said, her face taking on a frustrated expression. "Giving up our entire school career to run after some mad villain doesn't sound so entertaining to me."

"I know, Hermione, but Ron's a bit more adept at playing hero than you, you've got to admit." Ginny giggled and gave Hermione a hug, sitting down next to her, and they vowed together to talk of anything but school for another month, until it really started. Besides, they couldn't concentrate with Harry's frustrated stomping upstairs and Ron's impromptu stress-quidditch match outside.