A/N: This chapter is the second part of the Greengrass mini-story. There may be other parts in the future, but the next chapter's the Quidditch match. As always, I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far, what you think would be good in the near, not-so-near or even far-off future, or anything you'd like to see improved. I'm always open to reviews and messages, and will reply to any that need it. Thank you all.

It was Friday, and the day before the first Quidditch match of the season. Harry had just left his Auror training lesson where he had taught about blocking fireplaces from the Floo network, a lesson with which he had needed help from a large textbook. He walked down two flights of stairs to the library, pushing open the ornate oak doors and walking inside. He placed the heavy tome on the returns pile, smiled and nodded to Madam Pince, and walked straight back out without ever slowing his stride.

Before he got to the exit, however, he heard a quiet sobbing, accompanied by a few pitiful sniffs. He turned towards the nearest bookshelf, in which there was a small gap between two green books. Through it, he could see that there was a girl crying, her head in her arms on the reading desk in front of her. Her body was shaking with sobs.

Harry was just about to go around the bookshelf to see if he could make the girl feel better when he saw a familiar face. A pointed nose and sleek blond hair approached the girl. Draco put his arm round the girl, shocking Harry. Harry stood transfixed by the scene.

"Hey, there. Don't cry. What's wrong?" Draco asked softly.

"Go away," the girl sniffed. "I don't want to talk about it."

"No," he murmured. "Let it all out. You can't just keep it all bottled up."

"People keep on... coming up to me... calling me names... taking my stuff... I didn't do anything wrong." She broke down once more, become unintelligible through her tears.

"Never. Why would anybody do that to you, especially if you hadn't done anything? That's just... evil..."

"It's because of my mum," she said, running her fingers through her now tangled hair. "She works for the Daily Prophet. She wrote that... that... that goblin article over a week ago. And now everybody hates me."

"Don't worry," said Draco, sitting beside her. "I'm not the most well-liked of people either. It's mainly my fault, though. I've done some terrible things to some good people, but I thought it was right. My father, he also did many terrible things, and he was the one who taught me that being bad was right. You just have to realise that who your parents are shouldn't change who you are. Once people realise that, they'll like you again. I don't think anybody will ever like me again, though..."

"No, that can't be true," said the girl, putting he hand on Draco's cheek. "You seem alright to me. I like you, whoever you are." Draco put his hand on her hand, not believing it was there. As he touched it, he turned and looked into her eyes.

"I... I'm sorry," he said. "How rude of me. My name's Draco; Draco Malfoy. Slytherin. Son of a Death Eater. Hated by the legendary Harry Potter for good reason." Ashamed that Draco thought he hated him, Harry left the library at this point, deep in thought.

"At least you don't get dungbombs thrown at you as you walk down the corridor. Even those people I thought were my friends are calling me names. I can't sleep in my dormitory without people putting stuff in my bed or pushing me out. I haven't slept in my own bed for days. And I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be supportive."

"That's ok, Astoria. I won't let it happen to you any more. I... I can't..."

"How do you know my name?" asked Astoria, pulling her hand away suspiciously.

"I knew your sister," replied Draco truthfully. "We both got sorted into Slytherin at the same time. She often talked about you." Astoria relaxed. "Now, how about we get you moved into a new bedroom of your own? I'm sure McGonagall would allow it. If not, you can take mine. McGonagall gave me one at the start of the year."

"I don't want to be any bother," Astoria said, preferring to suffer quietly and not be any trouble to anyone.

"It's no bother. Come with me." Draco stood up and held out his hand, and she took it, smiling. Draco smiled back as she also rose and they left the library together. They walked along the corridors and up a sweeping staircase which took them all the way to the seventh floor. Although the people they passed in the corridors often stared at them as they went passed, they were both oblivious to it. They had blocked out everybody else until they came to the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress' Office.

"Erm, Draco, how do we get in? Do you know the password?"

"Yes, the eighth years were all given the password because they fought in the Battle last year and you ever need to talk about it, or even if you want to talk about something else. They'll always have the time for you. Severus." The gargoyle sprang aside instantly. Draco inclined his head towards it before leading Astoria inside and up the moving spiral staircase. The gargoyle had needed counselling, even though it was only a transfigured statue, as it had become damaged in the Battle.

Draco knocked at the heavy oak door, made remarkable only by the large brass knocker and the decoration on the handle, although something else about it made it seem imposing.

"Come in!" called McGonagall from where she sat inside. Draco pushed the door open and walked inside. Astoria hesitated, having never been in the Head's office before. She was nervous about seeing and talking to McGonagall, but Draco proffered his hand when he saw her reluctance.

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her. "McGonagall's really nice."

"That's Professor McGonagall, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall replied in mock severity. "Oh, don't worry. I'm only joking." She had seen Astoria's look of panic. "Now, what's your name?"

"Astoria Greengrass," Astoria replied quietly, looking at her feet.

"Well, Astoria, Draco's right. I am really nice. Dumbledore was always telling me to let my hair down, and here we are. Figuratively speaking, of course. The professors are always here to help you, and you don't have to be scared of them. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Please, Professor, could Astoria have an eighth year bedroom?" asked Draco politely.

"Well, we do have a couple spare. Is there some trouble going on?"

"I don't want any trouble," whispered Astoria. She really didn't want to get anybody into trouble. McGonagall understood how difficult it could be sometimes, and didn't press the issue.

"That's ok. Draco, I want you to look after her. Take her to the room beside yours. I'll get one of the house-elves to set it up for you by the time you get there. They're very efficient."

"Thank you, Professor," replied Draco, and he led Astoria back out of the office.

Meanwhile, Harry was deep in conversation with Ron and Ginny as they walked down to the Quidditch pitch for a last minute practice session.

"Malfoy said I hated him. I know you guys don't think it's a big deal, but it's really made me think," said Harry.

"I don't see the problem," replied Ron. "Everyone knows you hate him. I mean, he was your arch-enemy or something. You two were always fighting over stuff, and then he turned to the dark side. Not that it was hard to get him to turn at all."

"All that doesn't mean I hate him, though," corrected Harry. "I used to dislike him, yes, but not so much any more. I understand him. He didn't really know anything else other than evil, due to his father. He's changed since the Battle, and I say we should try to respect him, despite his previous misdemeanours. I know that's a silly way of putting it, but I can't for the life of me think how else to oof!" Harry had suddenly been hugged by Ginny.

"Guys!" whined Ron. They parted, looking sheepish.

"I meant to say, Harry, that you're very forgiving and I respect that," said Ginny with mock formality and a wicked grin. Ron rolled his eyes in a very Hermione-like way.

"My only problem," continued Harry, "is that I don't know how to tell him I don't actually hate him without admitting that I was listening in on their conversation."

"Why don't we ask Hermione after the practice?" asked Ginny.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "Hermione knows everything." Harry and Ginny shared a knowing smile.

Quidditch practice was almost uneventful. Harry dodged a Bludger that seemed to be hurtling towards his head, only to find that it was a black owl flying across the pitch. Ginny and Ron almost fell off their brooms with laughter as Harry struggled to right himself, feathers falling slowly all around him. Demelza Robins caught the Quaffle from Dean Thomas, flew up to the hoop next to Ron and threw the Quaffle in, shocking Ron so much that he eventually did fall off his broom. Thankfully, Harry was quick enough to cast a cushioning charm on the ground below the goalposts.

When the sun began to set and the shadows began to lengthen, Harry called everybody to the ground next to the entrance to the changing rooms. He congratulated them all on a fantastic practice, boosting everybody's confidence about the upcoming match against Ravenclaw, and suggested that they all get a good night's sleep.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Dean split off from the rest of the team at the sixth floor and headed towards the eighth year common room. As they approached, they saw that a gnarled tree stump and a bunch of pinky-purple flowers had emerged from a part of the swamp, along with a small fern.

"What's happening to the swamp?" asked Harry.

"Oh, George has just decided to improve on it in his spare time. If he can get this right, he can make them more richly detailed in the future, or upgrade those that people have already bought, for a small fee. It was partly my idea, partly his. We like to bounce ideas off each other." Ron grinned as he patted the tree stump fondly.

"That's awesome, Ron," said Dean and Harry simultaneously. Ron and Ginny smirked at this, and Harry blushed, almost to Ron's level of blushing. It was at times like this when he was reminded painfully of the brief relationship Ginny had with Dean, even though it was all in order to make Harry more interested in her. Thinking about this just made him even more embarrassed.

Moving on from the awkwardness of the corridor, Harry, Ron and Ginny joined Hermione on their usual sofa by the fire. Though Harry continually asked people not to do it, they always made room for him where he wanted to go, along with most of the other Defence professors. As such, the sofa by the fire was always vacant when they weren't sitting in it. Ron was the only one who didn't mind at all, though Harry often felt that he understood when thinking back to the Horcrux taunting Ron about being inferior to Harry last year.

"Who's that girl with Malfoy in the corner?" asked Ron. "I'm sure I've never seen her before."

"That's Astoria Greengrass. I told you about her last week, when that article came out," said Ginny.

"Oh yeah, written by her cow of a mother."

"Ron!" berated Hermione. "Be nice! This doesn't mean you can be rude to the poor girl. I can just imagine what she's going through, with everybody being mean to her because of her mother. At least Malfoy has the decency to befriend her."

"That's the girl Malfoy was talking to in the library," said Harry slowly. "She was crying about just that. How did you know, Hermione?"

"I heard her crying in the toilets the other day. I was going to say something to her, but she left before me. I hope she feels better, though, and I hope Malfoy looks after her properly."

"Yeah," agreed Ginny. "Plus, I think they look kind of cute together." Ron did a comic double-take.