Minerva felt uncomfortable.

She was losing control of her students. Or, in particular, the eighth-year students. She was beginning to question whether she should have let them return in the first place. They thought she didn't know what was going on but Minerva definitely, and often unfortunately, knew.

More so, the bad behaviour wasn't even including the four students she had subjected to an ancient blood magic ritual. Minerva's guilt was sufficient to ignore their actions over the past month. Their attendance rates in class were abysmal. But it was the frequent leaving grounds and spells they were performing which was making her worry.

She was the headmistress, of course she knew if people were coming and going! But there was something different about the way they were doing it… The spells were harder to monitor, though. The duel between Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger had definitely not gone unnoticed. In retrospect, whatever had happened, an odd peace between them had transpired since, which Minerva granted herself guilt-free feelings about. At least there was that.

In her hand was yet another letter from the Ministry about Draco Malfoy. Why hadn't they had any reports about his magic use over the past month? Why could they not sense that he was performing any magic? Was it Minerva who wasn't allowing him to perform magic? Was he depressed and not coping well in the rehabilitation? Why was Mr Malfoy not responding to these letters himself?

Minerva sighed. She had been diverting them for weeks, but it looked like they weren't going to take no for an answer. Before performing the ritual, she hadn't even considered Draco's magical tag on his wand. Yet another example of how much of a mistake it had been. Sure, yes, it had restored Hogwarts to it's almost sentient self. But had it been worth it?

Ever since that night, the four teenagers had not been coping well at all. Minerva had been horrified to see Hermione in the newspaper. She'd had no idea what had been going on. There had been a small piece on the security of Hogwarts, considering Hermione had supposed to have been on school grounds at the time. Minerva could handle the criticism, but Hogwarts' reputation ideally needed to be restored.

On the other hand, Minerva was even beginning to question herself whether it had been the right decision to become the headmistress. No wonder Albus had seemed a little mad – it was a maddening job! Minerva had obviously been crazy when she had given those chairs away.

Minerva sighed. What could she actually do? The eighth years were technically adults and she didn't have any real power over them. Between the eighteen of them, a mere two had an above eighty-percent attendance rate and every single one of them were not being reasonable about the curfew at all. There were boys sleeping in girl's rooms and vice versa. Minerva hung her head at her desk.

She would need to deal with that later, though. There was an Auror coming to see Draco Malfoy. And soon.

…

Narcissa had gone white and Hermione was becoming more anxious as she watched her.

There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as Hermione watched Draco watch Narcissa watch Harry explain what was going on. She almost wished they hadn't done what they had; they were all feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt witnessing a parent's reaction.

Well, Hermione didn't know if the others felt guilty, but she sure felt guilty on their behalf. It was technically her fault that Draco had succumbed to performing the ritual. If Hermione hadn't agreed, she knew that he wouldn't have either. And then Narcissa wouldn't look like she was about to throw up or strangle something.

Draco's leg was nervously bouncing next to Hermione's. If she hadn't been as equally nervous, she might not have missed how closely he was sitting next to her. It was making her feel progressively worse.

Hermione sighed and put her hand on Draco's knee. He immediately froze and looked at her hand as though he didn't understand why it was there.

"Stop that," Hermione hissed.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Fidgeting!"

"I am not fidgeting!" Draco whispered back.

Hermione snorted lightly.

"Hermione?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione turned around, startled, to find that everyone was staring at her. The warmth of Draco's leg on her hand reminded her that she still hadn't removed it. She slowly returned it to her side, as to try and not draw attention to it.

"Yes?" she replied, trying to sound as though she'd been listening.

"I asked where you'd put Kreacher?"

Hermione felt her cheeks flush. After Hannah had put Regulus into a bed in the living room, Kreacher had come back upstairs with the tea Regulus had ordered. Needless to say, finding his Master unconscious and unresponsive had made Kreacher hysterical. Therefore, Hermione had stunned him and put him to bed.

"He's, uh, in his den."

Regulus made to move, but Hannah beat him to it.

"I'll get him," she squeaked quickly.

Hermione smiled at her as she left the room. This situation was probably the hardest for Hannah. She was the newest to all this; plus, this wasn't her family.

It's not your family either, a voice whispered in Hermione's head. She looked up at the five opposing dark and light haired people around her. They were so different but shared so much. So much that Hermione didn't have anymore.

A horrid realisation came to her; she would never have that with her family. Even before she had modified their memories, it had never been like this. They'd never understood who she truly was. Of course they loved each other very much and were a strong family unit, but it was as if Hermione had to be two different people to be with them and to be at school.

She must have sighed loudly, as Draco then leaned in her ear.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Hermione turned to look at him. As his tone had suggested, Draco's face showed true concern. Hermione frowned. This wasn't an expression she recognised on his face. It wasn't strange-looking, just strange.

"I'm fine," she said stiffly.

"You're clearly not. But if you don't want to talk to me about it, at least talk to someone," he shot back.

Hermione softened at this. She wasn't pushing him away in particular; she just honestly didn't want to talk about it.

"It's just been a long day," she said after a moment.

"Long year," Draco replied.

Hermione had a chance to look at him as he stared at the floor between his legs. Draco looked so downtrodden. She hadn't meant to reject him like that, she really hadn't. Then, probably out of guilt and seeing his puppy face, Hermione became brazen.

"Want to get out of here?" she asked quickly.

At the speed his head shot up and the confused expression he gave her, Draco apparently heard it the same way Hermione had when the words left her mouth.

"I mean… er… go back to school. Like we're so tired and everything and we really need to get Diana back…"

Hermione wanted to crawl into a hole. Her face grew hotter as his smirk grew wider.

"Thanks for the offer, Granger. But I think I need to sort things out with my mother first."

"Oh, yes, of course." Hermione wanted to die.

Draco began to stand up. "I'll find you later though," he said with a wink. He walked off before Hermione could even stutter.

She gaped after him. What had just happened? Hermione simply wanted to talk to him and hopefully go back to Hogwarts and nap. And he'd thought… he thought she had propositioned him! Cheeky bastard! A smile began to grow on Hermione's face regardless. Seeing the smirk rightfully back on Draco's face made Hermione happy for some strange reason.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione saw Narcissa Malfoy looming over her. She gulped. "What…"

"What are you doing with my son?"

Hermione was lost for words. She looked behind Narcissa to see Draco standing with his back to them, talking to Harry and Regulus. No backup, then.

She didn't even have time to formulate an answer before Narcissa leaned down low, closer to Hermione.

"You break my son's heart, Miss Granger, and there shall be consequences."

Staring up into those familiar icy eyes, Hermione knew that she was serious. Hermione actually felt a little nervous.

"Mrs Malfoy… I…"

Narcissa held up her hand. "Don't think that I don't know his moping for the past month was due to your… misdemeanours in the press last month. You are not Malfoy material. Either fix that or leave him. Choose wisely, Miss Granger."

Narcissa stood up and walked over to Draco, placing a gentle hand on his back. Hermione stared after them in amazement. What did Narcissa think was going on? Was Hermione missing something?

"Catching flies?" Hannah asked, gently sitting next to her. Kreacher had returned to his spot on Regulus' leg, much to his master's dismay.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut. "I think I've just been threatened by Narcissa Malfoy."

Hannah's eyebrows rose, but she didn't seem any further surprised. "I wonder why," she said innocently.

"Right?" Hermione replied incredulously, not catching on to Hannah's sarcasm. "Maybe I should just steer clear of all Malfoys."

"No, don't do that," Hannah said quickly.

"It certainly would make my life a lot easier." Hermione sighed. "Come on," she said. "Let's get Diana back to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall will probably want to kill us, plus, I need a bloody nap."

…

"I taught you better than to mess around with blood magic, Draco."

Draco gulped as he turned to face his mother. If she berated him in front of them all, he would never live it down. He hadn't even wanted to tell her in the first place; or at least tell her in his own way in his own time. Potter wasn't really one for subtlety and his version of the story had made it sound much worse than it was. At least he hadn't mentioned Hermione.

"I'm sorry, mother, I was just trying..." Draco trailed off as a strange smile began to grow on Narcissa's face. "What?" he asked, warily.

"My boy saved Hogwarts," Narcissa stated. "However stupidly."

Was that pride in her voice? Draco could barely contain himself and a slow burning grin grew on his face.

"I am not going to pretend to understand your new... lifestyle." Draco's face fell and he bristled as his mother's eyes glanced towards Hermione on the other side of the room. "But I am going to appreciate the new you. Be smart, Draco," she said softly.

Draco did not understand directly what she meant by that, but he nodded. "I… I will, mother," he said as sure as he could.

She smiled but shook her head. "Go on, go back to school. There haven't been this many members of my family in the one room since long before I can remember. We have some catching up to do."

He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll visit soon." Draco practically skipped over to Diana.

Because the top of her head only reached his elbow, Draco found an intense urge to rest his arm on her big, curly dark hair. Instead he opted to ask how she was doing.

Diana replied with a shrug. "Just confused," she said. "And hungry," she added quickly.

Draco smiled. He didn't like many kids, but Diana was one of the better ones. He checked the platinum watch he had gotten for his seventeenth birthday and was surprised; it was almost eight o'clock.

"If that's the case, Hannah will have to take you to the kitchens, because dinner is long over."

Diana's face lit up in amazement. "We can actually go into the kitchens?"

For a moment, Draco remembered how amazing it had been to be a first year and learn all about the magic of Hogwarts. It was truly surprising that they hadn't noticed how different Hogwarts' magic had been before now.

"Of course you can," he said. "It's all about who you know." Draco winked at her, to her delight.

"Are you coming with us, Draco?"

Draco's mind went blank – was he supposed to act cool or just do whatever he felt like now? Hermione was staring at him expectantly. Her appearance beside him had caught him off guard.

"Duh, Granger. We live together after all."

By the way Hermione and Diana frowned in confusion at the same time, Draco realised that had not been the right thing to say. "Would the ladies like an escort?" Draco said, raising his elbows to them both. He almost sighed aloud with relief as they smiled and took an arm each.

His mother had been right; being a gentleman really did get you everywhere. Or at least, that's what Draco hoped.

…

For the first time in his life, Ron wanted to punch the Minister of Magic.

"Kingsley, you don't understand… I have to…" he pleaded for the millionth time.

Kingsley rose from his chair and Ron unwillingly sank in his. God, Kingsley was scary.

"Mr Weasley, under no circumstances will I allow any staff member to go on a mission for personal reasons. Especially for one associated with such hatred. I am up to date with the private goings on of my staff, you know."

Ron started to go red. He didn't even need to say what he was referring to out loud. Ron hated what he had to say, but no one else could be involved.

"I don't hate him," Ron said through gritted teeth. He couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth.

Damn Harry and his aptitude for trouble.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, after sitting back down behind the wide desk. "You truly want me to believe that you do not hate Draco Malfoy?"

Ron was silent. He had to answer this carefully. Damn that Harry sodding Potter! Thank that boy's luck that Ron had gone the long way to the Auror office this afternoon and had heard a tip off from one of the Owlery witches that Professor McGonagall had finally allowed for an Auror to be sent to Hogwarts to sort out the 'Draco Malfoy Wand Problem'.

Out of breath, Ron had come straight to the Minister's office, knowing his Auror Commander wouldn't understand in any circumstance; he had seen Ron the day after the news. Somehow, people also knew about Malfoy as well as his brother regarding Hermione. The office had had to buy another duelling dummy.

Ron sighed. "Do you have a pensieve?" he asked.

Kingsley waved his wand and a large stone basin appeared from behind him. His face only showed amused curiosity. The pensieve landed softly in the middle of the desk.

Amazed that he had a memory like this at all, Ron pulled the silvery substance from his temple with his wand. When it appeared in the pensieve, a swirl of colours and light, the memory showed a laughing and drunk Ron and Malfoy in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place.

If the situation hadn't been so messed up, Ron would have laughed at Kingsley's expression. Ron needed to be the Auror to sort this out. He was the only one who knew why Malfoy's wand didn't register on its trace, and he was the only one who could know. Kingsley left him anxiously waiting for a response for too long.

"Fine," Kingsley finally said. Ron audibly sighed with relief. "But if anything, and I mean anything, happens to Mr Malfoy, there will be serious consequences."

Ron stood up with a grin on his face. "Thank you Minister, thanks a lot."

Kingsley shook his head incredulously as Ron shut the door behind him. "Young people," he said to himself.

Ron didn't quite realise what he was heading to do until he was halfway down the corridor. The relief was swept away by the sudden rushing of dread and anger.

Ron was going to confront Draco Malfoy.

…

Nothing gives a person more of a mundane finality or a crash back down to earth quite like going back to school does.

Hannah couldn't concentrate. Her hand was still tingling from where Regulus had kissed it on her departure the previous night. If she felt like that from just a peck on her hand, she wondered what it would feel like to…

Defence Against the Dark Arts! That's what class she was in. Hannah hadn't heard much about Bill Weasley before he'd become one of her many DADA professors. But one thing that she knew for sure was that Professor Weasley was a goddamn babe.

As well as all that hot cuteness, Professor Weasley may have been the first teacher to be unanimously liked among the students and staff. His cool stories about his adventures and his humbleness about it was the perfect formula. The students weren't blinded by his niceness though, he had proved his wicked magical ability early on and his no-nonsense classes had actually allowed the students to learn more in the last month than the past year, Hannah included.

So why hadn't she been paying attention? Ah yes, Regulus… Was she mad? Did Hannah really have a chance with him? Surely she hadn't been reading the signs wrong. Or what signs? Were there even signs? And what about Neville? Wasn't there some potential there? How would he take her possibly dating a Death Eater?

Hannah glanced over at him. Neville always sat the same distance away from her in every class: one row in front, a seat over. Close enough to speak, but far away enough not to be paired together in everything. Not well, she decided after a moment, Neville would not like Regulus one bit.

"And that's it! See you on Tuesday!" Professor Weasley broke through her thoughts.

The bell rang almost immediately after he finished speaking. Everyone was amazed at how he always managed to do that. Did he have a special clock they didn't know about? Hannah shook her head as she stood and packed away her stuff into her bag.

Since the ritual, the bell had sounded different. It was one of the smaller differences they had made. It sounded almost chirpy-er, if that was possible. It hadn't even occurred to Hannah that it was magic rather than an actual bell. To be truthful, she had never thought much about the school bell before it had changed.

"Malfoy!" she heard Professor Weasley call. "A moment!"

Hannah's head shot up, and she saw Hermione's do the same across the room. This couldn't be good. Her heart began to race as Professor Weasley gestured for Draco to follow him into his office. Hannah met Hermione's worried gaze; this wasn't good at all.

…

Draco wasn't worried. He hadn't done anything wrong. Or at least that he could remember. Had he forgotten about an essay? That couldn't be it; Draco had never forgotten an essay in his life. He frowned as he followed Professor Weasley into the office. He hoped he hadn't fucked anything up. Draco grudgingly respected Bill Weasley, he was the on…

Then, as Professor Weasley stepped aside, Draco saw exactly why he'd been called into this office. Draco involuntarily gulped as he saw Ron Weasley sitting behind the desk. Surely a professor wouldn't allow a student to be battered to death in his office? Surely?

"Ron's just here on Auror business," Bill said calmly, as though already trying to diffuse the situation. "It's about your wand trace."

Draco stood silent like an idiot for a minute. He wanted to slap himself. He hadn't even thought about his wand trace since the ritual. What an absolute twat. Of course the Ministry would have noticed a lack of activity on a wand that was supposed to be used all the time in school. It was amazing that they'd waited this long to send someone. And Draco grimly understood why it had to be Weasley. Potter had been put on permanent probation until they (the Ministry) had figured out what to do about Regulus and whether to tell the public or not. Plus, no one else knew or could know about their changed magic.

That brought him back to Bill Weasley. Draco sent a look between Weasley and his brother to ask if he knew. Weasley looked away from his gaze but slightly shook his head. He coughed and sat up in the chair. Bill didn't know.

"Sit, Malfoy."

Draco took his time, but indeed sat. He was wary; wary as though he had to tip-toe past a growling dog. It could strike at any moment and Draco wasn't counting on the dog's brother to protect him.

"Are you happy?" Weasley barked at him.

"What?" Draco asked, confused. What was he referring to? Draco really didn't want to talk about this in front of his teacher.

"Are you happy being back at Hogwarts?" Weasley said through gritted teeth. He gestured to the piece of paper he was holding.

Draco was being interviewed. He and Weasley had to somehow work together so that he could be cleared of the trace. Fuck my actual life, Draco thought, as he realised.

"Yes," Draco replied. "I'm happy being back at Hogwarts."

Weasley scribbled something down. "How are your peers' feelings about your return?"

Draco shrugged. "No complaints."

"Made any friends?"

"Plenty."

"Other than Slytherin?"

"In every house."

"Grades?"

"Excellent, as always."

"Any issues with other students or teachers?"

"Nope."

"Remorse?"

Draco blinked. "What?"

"Do you feel any remorse for your previous actions?" Weasley stared, waiting for an answer.

His intense gaze made Draco unsure about which actions Weasley meant.

"Every day," Draco replied. That's what wanted Weasley to hear, right? That Draco felt awful and torn up inside every day? Because he did; Draco felt shit about his life in general. He didn't need to lie to Weasley for him to know that.

With a short nod, Weasley stood. "That's it."

Draco stood too. Hoping that it was all over.

"What about the wand?" Bill interjected. "Isn't the trace coming off?"

Wincing, Draco turned to his professor. Bill looked suspicious, but not as though he was going to press them on the matter.

Weasley held out his hand. "Wand," he grunted.

Draco reached into his pocket and withdrew the useless piece of wood. He gave it to Weasley, carefully making sure he didn't touch his hand. Weasley waved his own wand over it once, then thrust it back at Draco.

"The Ministry of Magic clears you of any misgivings and announces your innocence. Your wand is now free of any trace and you may use it as you please," Weasley spat, before storming out of the office and slamming the door behind him.

Despite the anxiety the situation had brought him, Draco now felt relieved. He was free. Even though he had been technically free from the trace after the ritual, but it was now official. The Ministry had declared him innocent.

Draco had never felt so elated. Plus, Weasley hadn't punched or cursed him! Today definitely counted as a win. Draco went to put the fake wand back into his pocket, but was distracted by some grooves he felt.

Lifting the wand to examine it, Draco's mouth fell open. At the very bottom of the handle, there was now a word engraved. Draco startled Bill as he began to laugh.

Weasley had engraved Dickhead in an elegant and loopy font into Draco's fake wand when he'd fake examined it.

Draco shook his head with an amused smile on his face. It was the first time Draco had even mildly respected something that Weasley had done. Hopefully that wouldn't happen again. Draco's head and heart wouldn't be able to take it.

…

Harry was bored. Or hungry. These days he couldn't really figure out which. But he had decided that he was going to go out and get some food. With two guys essentially house-bound living under one roof, a lot of food was consumed daily. Sure, Kreacher was a massive help, but Harry and now Regulus liked a lot of Muggle food. And the booze, especially the booze. Therefore, Harry had to go out himself every so often.

"Reg! Regulus!" Harry sighed. He wanted to ask him what he'd like as the last time Regulus had complained so much that Harry had to go out again.

Why was this house so bloody big? It was still legally his, along with Kreacher. Kingsley hadn't let him announced Regulus as alive again yet. Harry couldn't quite believe that Kingsley hadn't let him go back to work either. Bringing him back from the dead wasn't that big of a deal, was it?

Harry was in the kitchen when he heard a scream from the hallway above. He Apparated there so quickly, that Molly Weasley was still screaming in the open doorway. Regulus turned, with his hand still on the front door, to Harry with a sheepish look on his face.

Well, Harry thought, at least I can go back to work now.

A/N: Hello, goodbye, here's chapter 25.

Holly - xo