Author's Note: So far, we're all still OK with the virus. I am unfortunately temporarily laid off but at least I am no longer working retail with the public at large! :( Hope you are all safe and well yourselves!


Chapter 39: Turning Points

June had passed in a blur, and the first few days of July found Harry seated uncomfortably on the sofa at the Burrow next to Ron. Ron sat there, staring straight ahead, processing what Harry had just told him.

"Bloody hell."

"Yeah."

"I mean...bloody hell."

Harry sighed. "Ron..."

"Harry—bloody hell, Harry—Malfoy? Really?" He gaped a little. "And Ginny..."

"Still love her, still, you know," Harry shrugged helplessly. "Like her. A lot. Like that."

"Bloody hell."

"Really not helpful, Ron." Harry looked mournfully out the window. "What am I supposed to do? Do I—like—Draco? Or is it something else?"

"You could just kiss him."

Harry nearly fell off the couch. "Ginny! I—we—"

"It's okay." She smiled and finished her descent and perched on the arm of her dad's favourite squashy chair. "Harry, you're seventeen. Go kiss Draco Malfoy. See if you like it. We're not married. We're not even officially a couple—you broke up with me, as I recall, and we haven't exactly been doing well."

He goggled at her wry grin. Ron continued to do his best impression of a goldfish on land. "But, Ginny..."

She shrugged. "I'm okay, Harry, really. If we want this to work, you need to go give it a try. Stop being a self-sacrificing hero for one moment and get some nerve!"

Harry blinked, his glasses sliding down his nose. Finally, he closed his mouth and pushed his glasses back into place. "Right. Snog Malfoy. I'll just...go send him an owl, will I?"

Ron laughed, a little wildly. "Mate, there's more to snogging than that!"

"He knows that," Ginny said, a little too smugly for Ron's comfort. He blanched again.

"Ginny, please...I didn't need to know about my best friend snogging my sister."

"That's not all," she started mischievously, but Ron leapt off and over the sofa and ran for the door before she could say anything more, and Harry just dug his fingers helplessly into his hair as she laughed.

At least she was doing better.


Severus looked at the contract in front of him. He could sign it. He could not sign it. He didn't know what he wanted to do. It seemed prudent, on one hand, to return to Hogwarts. It was the only job he'd known, and even if he signed on for only one final year, it would be worth it, wouldn't it? Perhaps he could replace last year's nightmare with something...else.

On the other hand...did he want to return to Hogwarts? Did he want to teach? Did he even enjoy it?

He'd never really had the choice before. First the Dark Lord had told him to apply, then Dumbledore had simply assigned him a role. Then another role. Then another.

He hesitated still, quill poised over the parchment.

Just a year.

Just...one more year.


Hermione sat on the sofa with her parents, head propped up on one hand as the movie played. She'd tuned it out a while ago, when the flash of lights had seemed to similar to spells and she'd rather shut down. At least she hadn't run out of the room, and hiding in her own head seemed the best course of action.

As usual, her father sat on his armchair, paper folded across one knee and his hands on his belly as he watched the screen. Her mother sat beside her, mug of tea held in one hand, the other holding a pen that hovered over a half-finished crossword as she pondered.

The Prophet that morning had said that Hogwarts would be reopening in the fall as usual, and that students were welcome to repeat their final year if they wished it. The Ministry was also offering tutoring at home or accelerated courses for those who wished to avoid the school.

She'd popped by the Burrow earlier, and talked to the boys about it.

She wanted to go back. She wanted to hope for Head Girl. To take her NEWTs. To finish her schooling properly.

They didn't.

Ginny didn't.

Hermione really wasn't sure what to do with herself. She wanted to try to finish. Her parents had made it perfectly clear that they supported her decision either way. She could sit her NEWTs early, she could take her OWL scores as they were and apply to any job she desired—she was Hermione Granger, had helped with the downfall of Voldemort, who would refuse her?—or...or she could go back to Hogwarts.

McGonagall would be there, she knew. Flitwick. Hagrid she couldn't see leaving the school... Binns would never retire. She wasn't sure who'd they get for Defense this year. Babbling for sure. Vector; she rather did like Arithmancy. But who would teach Potions? Probably Slughorn, she thought mournfully, wondering if Severus would return to the school in any capacity.

Hermione started as a hand touched her knee, then smiled and nodded at the unspoken question. "I'm fine, Mum. Just thinking about going back to school."

Yes.

She should go back.

Finish properly. It was the right thing to do, even if she would miss her friends.


Draco was finishing his admissions essay when a tap came at his window. He rose and opened the glass, allowing the tiny, hyperactive owl in. It fluttered about, dwarfed by the roll of parchment in its beak.

"Come here, have a nice perch," Draco cajoled. "Look, there's treats..."

It took several tries to convince the flighty bird to land, but once it was on the perch it eagerly gave up its burden in favour of owl treats.

His eyebrows rose as he scanned the missive. Really? Potter ignored him for days—weeks—after their movie date and now he wanted to get together?

Scar-head had better have a bloody good apology, he thought as he grabbed a scrap of parchment and penned a positive response.

The owl flitted off through the window. Draco watched it go, his reply clutched precariously in that minuscule beak, until it was out of sight.

Then he returned to his essay.