"You should try and eat something."

"Hmm?" Draco replied distractedly.

"Eat," Harry pressed, pushing a steaming bowl of porridge towards him. "Sitting there with an empty stomach isn't going to make the owl post arrive any quicker."

Draco sighed and grudgingly pulled the bowl towards him. He began spooning the hot breakfast into his mouth, but he wasn't particularly enjoying it. It was the first morning of the new term but his mind was fixed on more pressing matters. Just as he was about to shovel the third spoonful into his mouth, he paused when he heard the flutter of wings and dropped the spoon into the bowl. A moment later, hundreds of owls soared through the open windows clutching letters, newspapers and parcels for the students. As the owls made their deliveries, Draco kept a watchful eye out for his parents' Blakiston fish owl. It would be easy enough to spot considering its impressive size, being twice the height of a common barn owl, but the longer he waited to see the black and brown spotted bird of prey, the more despondent he became.

"Draco," said Harry gently. "I don't think she's coming."

"Just give it a couple more minutes," Draco pleaded. "Athena is quite a large bird, so she's slower than the others. She'll be here."

Harry didn't look convinced by this but he sat and waited patiently with Draco while the others headed to the first lesson of the day. A further ten minutes dragged by, and most of the owls and the students had already left the Great Hall. It was only when Professor McGonagall approached and told them to get a move on that the pair reluctantly left the Gryffindor table and headed towards Defence Against the Dark Arts. As they walked side by side, Harry cast Draco a sideways glance.

"Draco…"

"Don't," he warned.

Harry quickly closed his mouth and they walked the rest of the way in stony silence. In all the time he had been a student at Hogwarts, Draco's mother had never failed to send him a parcel on the first day of term; usually it was a box of sweets from Honeydukes, or some of his belongings that he'd forgotten to pack. Whatever it was, she always included a letter telling him to have a wonderful term and how much she was missing him already. It was a small, unimportant thing, but something that Draco had come to expect as a standard. Even during his sixth year, by far his worst at Hogwarts, his mother had taken the time to write to him, even when it was dangerous for her to do so. But today, there had been nothing. No parcel. No note. Not even owl droppings. A small part of him was still trying to rationalise the bird's absence—that perhaps Athena had gotten lost or blown off course on route to Hogwarts—but deep down, he knew better. For the first time ever, his mother hadn't bothered to write to him upon returning to Hogwarts, and it hurt more than he cared to admit.

When they reached Hestia's classroom, the corridor was deserted and the door was already closed.

Brilliant, he thought to himself. Not only were his parents acting as though he didn't exist, but he was also going to get detention on the first day of a new term. He reached out to open the door, but Harry grabbed his other hand and pulled him into a deep, lingering kiss. Draco's eyes momentarily widened with surprise but soon the tension that had previously gripped him began to melt away and he kissed Harry back with equal enthusiasm. When they finally broke apart, Harry kept his hands firmly on Draco's hips.

"What was that for?" asked Draco.

Harry shrugged. "I can't fix this thing with your parents, but I can distract you from it for a moment. Plus, we've probably already earned detention for being late to class, so what harm is there adding a couple more minutes?"

Draco smiled at Harry and tucked one of his stray curls behind his left ear, only for it to immediately spring back into place. "I like your thinking. Well, since we're already incredibly late, the dorms will be deserted, why don't we just bunk off and—"

Draco's sentence was cut short as the classroom door swung open without warning. Harry and Draco leapt apart from each other as though they had been electrocuted, but it was too late. Hestia Jones cocked an eyebrow at the pair.

"Gentlemen," she greeted them with a curt nod. "I'm glad to see that you both finally managed to find your way to my classroom, have you forgotten how to open the door?"

"No, Professor," they chorused.

"Then care to explain why you're lurking out in the corridor instead of coming in?"

Harry and Draco glanced at each other. "Uhh…"

Hestia rolled her eyes and stepped aside. "Nevermind. Come in."

Harry and Draco took the only free table at the very back of the class, pointedly ignoring the amused looks and snickers of their classmates.

"Both of you stay behind at the end of the lesson to discuss detention," said Hestia as she marched towards the front of the classroom again. "As I was saying, you'll all be relieved to hear that we're done with our Legilimency and Occlumency lessons..."

An audible sigh of relief rippled through the classroom at that announcement and Harry silently mouthed 'thank god for that'.

"...we will, however, be continuing to focus on memory this term, its fallibility and how prone it is to manipulation, with particular emphasis on both Memory and False Memory Charms," she continued, scribbling notes on the blackboard. "Can anyone tell me the difference between those two spells? Ms Granger, I'm going to turn around and see you've already got your hand up, aren't I?"

Predictably, Hermione's hand had shot straight up into the air before Hestia had even finished asking the question, but she lowered her hand slightly then, looking awkward.

"Sorry," she mumbled apologetically.

Hestia underlined the word memory twice before turning to face Hermione and smiled kindly at her. "It wasn't a criticism, Ms Granger. In fact, I meant it as a compliment."

Hermione blushed furiously then. "Oh."

"Please, feel free to continue."

Hermione flashed Hestia a quick bashful smile before clearing her throat. "The False Memory Charm can be used by the caster to implant a false memory into their victim's mind without the victim realising it was not originally theirs. This differs from the Memory Charm, which is used to completely erase a person's memories."

Hestia nodded approvingly. "Very good, Ms Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, the incantation for memory charms shows close parallels to the Latin word 'oblivisci' which means 'to forget' and also the word 'oblivion' which relates to forgetting or forgotten…"

The rest of the lesson dragged by as Hestia discussed the complex (and, in Draco's opinion, incredibly dull) theory of memory charms, instructing them to copy detailed illustrations of the human brain and its component parts. She did, however, assure them that their next lesson would be more fun as they would put the theory into practice.

"Tomorrow's lesson we'll begin by attempting to implant false memories in each other's minds," she explained. "These false memories will be pre-approved by myself and will be completely removed by the end of the lesson. Don't worry, nobody's going to walk out of here believing that they're on the England National Quidditch team or dating Viktor Krum."

The students snickered again at the suggestion, but Hestia's tone turned more serious. "As fun as the lesson will be, this is still incredibly dangerous magic. Even the most skilled of wizards have fallen foul to rogue memory charms and suffered irreparable damage as a result—a previous Defence professor of yours being one of them."

The bell rang then, signalling the end of the lesson. Chairs scraped against the flagstone floor as the students rose to their feet and filed out of the room and towards their next class of the day. Ron grabbed Harry's shoulder then and assured him he'd let Liv know that he was running late before exiting the classroom with Hermione. Harry and Draco stayed behind as instructed and headed towards Hestia's desk instead. She shook her head at the pair and sighed.

"Late on the first day back," she despaired. "You're not going to make a habit of this, are you?"

"No, Professor," they assured her.

Hestia chewed the inside of her cheek and screwed up her face before her shoulders sagged and she tossed her quill onto the desk. "Alright, I'll let you off this time with a warning. If it happens again, it'll be detention. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," they nodded. "Thank you."

Hestia shrugged. "Just count your lucky stars that I'm still in a good mood after the Christmas break. If you'd gotten me later in the afternoon, you might not have been so lucky. Mr Potter, head along to your next lesson. Mr Malfoy, you stay behind, I want to have a word with you."

Harry frowned but exited the classroom without complaint. Hestia waited until he had closed the door behind him before drawing her wand and pointing it at one of the nearby chairs.

"Take a seat," she instructed.

The chair dragged across the floor and came to a halt as it pressed against the back of Draco's legs. Taking the hint, he dropped his bag to the floor and sat down.

"Don't look so worried!" Hestia laughed. "I promise this isn't anything bad."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Okay..."

Hestia laced her fingers together on top of the desk and gave him a searching look. "Tell me, Mr Malfoy, have you considered what your career prospects are after you graduate?"

Draco stared at her for a long moment, trying to process the question. "Sorry?"

"Career prospects," she repeated. "Have you thought about what line of work you'd like to go into after graduation?"

Draco let out a derisive snort. "You are joking, aren't you?"

"I don't joke about my student's futures," she replied without a trace of humour.

"What do you think my career prospects are?" he sneered.

"Well, your exam results have been consistently good over the years," Hestia argued. "And your predicted grades for this end of this year are very promising, Outstandings across the board."

"Which counts for absolutely nothing out there in the real world," he countered. "Your optimism about my career prospects are grossly misplaced, Professor. As the old saying goes, shit sticks. I could have the best grades in the world, but let's be realistic—being an ex-Death Eater is hardly a desirable qualification. Nobody is going to hire me."

"Don't sell yourself short," she chastised. "Some prospective employers are more focused on skill sets than petty politics."

Draco frowned. "Like who?"

Hestia slid open the top drawer of her desk, pulled out a small black business card and held it out to Draco. "It may come as a surprise to you, but you're a prime candidate for The Unspeakables program."

Draco laughed. "Now you really are taking the piss."

"Language, Mr Malfoy," Hestia warned, placing the card on the table in front of him. "And I'm dead serious. They don't recruit through the usual channels, but Professor Tonks knows some people who work in that department. We chatted with a couple of her former colleagues over the holidays and we all agreed that you'd make a good candidate."

"Do professors often gossip about students outside of the classroom?" he asked accusingly.

"All the time," she admitted unabashedly. "So, what do you think?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Why would you want to help me?"

"Because Professor Tonks and I both think that you'd be good at the job," she replied. When Draco looked even more sceptical, she sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Look, I'm well aware that your name and your history are going to be a hindrance in most places, but The Unspeakables are more interested in your abilities than your past. If anything, your...unique history...will make you even more of an asset to them. More importantly, though, your Occlumency and Legilimancy skills are exceptional—well beyond that of witches and wizards older and more experienced than yourself."

"So you're doing this because you feel sorry for me."

"No, I'm doing this because I think you'd be good at the job," she repeated with a slight edge to her voice. "Just to be clear, this isn't a guaranteed thing. They'll want to talk to you first, size you up, figure out where you'd best fit in. But it's a foot in the door, at least."

Draco worried his lip in silent contemplation for a moment. He couldn't help but wonder what his parents would have to say about this—their son, working for the same Ministry that had imprisoned the Malfoy patriarch and treated them with utter contempt since the Dark Lord's fall. Oh yes, they'd been more than happy to accept his father's generous donations when it suited them, then they'd been dropped the second any association with the family became less desirable than filling their coffers.

But what was his alternative? His father would tell him that a Malfoy's job is to sit in his Manor, accumulate more wealth and power, and produce heirs. Draco's stomach turned at the mere thought of such an existence. What did it matter what his parents thought now anyway? His mother and father had forsaken him, and he was finally being presented with what he had always wanted—a choice.

Draco slid the card off of the table and turned it over in his hand. It was embossed with gold lettering that simply read Gareth Greengrass. It didn't have an address, rank or department on it. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"If you're interested in talking things over in greater detail with Unspeakable Greengrass, next time you're in the Ministry just present that at the visitor's desk," Hestia explained. "He says that he's happy to make the time to speak to you."

"And what if he isn't there?"

"He will be," she assured him. "You don't have to decide anything now, of course. Go and mull it over, come back to see me if you have any questions or concerns."

Draco nodded and slipped the card into his trouser pocket. "Thanks."

Hestia smiled at him. "No problem."

When Draco left the classroom, he wasn't surprised to find Harry waiting for him. He pushed himself off of the wall that he'd been leaning against and they walked side by side towards the Muggle Studies classroom. "What did she want?"

"Um...she wanted to talk to me about a potential job opportunity, if you would believe it," Draco said, not quite believing the words himself.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at him. "Are you serious?"

"Well, it's not a sure thing." Draco pulled the business card out of his pocket and showed it to Harry, explaining what Hestia had told him. "What do you think?"

Harry turned the card over in his hand before handing it back to Draco and continuing their walk towards the classroom. "It makes sense to me. You're easily the best Occlumens and Legilimens in our year. Plus, you're really good at potions and defence."

"If you keep showering me with compliments, my head is going to explode," he joked.

"I'm being serious! Aside from your already humongous ego, I think you'd be a good fit there."

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Absolutely. To be honest, I find it easier to imagine you working there than being cooped up in a dusty old Manor reading books for the rest of your life. You'd go stir-crazy."

"Urgh, it doesn't even bear thinking about," he muttered. "What about you? Have you thought any more about what you're going to do after we graduate?"

Harry didn't immediately answer before replying evasively, "Um, I've had a few ideas."

Before Draco could press him on it, Harry opened the door to their Muggle Studies class and slipped inside. Liv stopped talking mid-sentence when they appeared and greeted them with a curt nod.

"Mr Potter. Mr Malfoy," she said. "Glad that you could finally join us. Just grab a free seat, I was just telling the class about our plans for this term."

Harry and Draco slipped into a couple of free seats near the back of the classroom and pulled out their quills and parchment. While Liv detailed the lesson plan over the coming weeks, Draco's mind began to wander, not towards his own new and unexpected job prospects, but Harry's. He had broached the subject with Harry a couple of times over Christmas, curious as to what his boyfriend had planned after they graduated, but for some reason, Harry had been reluctant to discuss it with him, always finding an excuse to change the subject. It certainly couldn't be because he was struggling for offers; one of the benefits of being The Chosen One is you'd never be short of admirers or work. But while everyone else seemed to obsess over what they would do after they had left Hogwarts, Harry had remained silent on the matter.

Draco also couldn't help but notice how often Liv kept glancing at her watch during the lesson. Maybe she was just as keen to get to lunch as Ron was, whose stomach was already growling loudly over the professor's lesson. However, once Liv had outlined the topics they would be covering over the next few weeks (which covered everything from Muggles cloning sheep to something called personal computers), she instructed the students to pack up their belongings and head along to the entrance hall.

"We won't have time for rehearsals today," she explained as they followed her through the deserted corridors. "But there will be some changes this term. Firstly, we'll be moving all future rehearsals to the newly built stage beneath the Quidditch pitch. I've asked Mr Filch to have it ready for our arrival."

"And secondly?" asked Hermione, stepping up beside her.

"What was that?"

"You said firstly," she pressed. "Presumably, there's more information regarding the play."

"I'll tell you more once we get there," Liv assured her.

She gave nothing else away as the students made their way across the damp grounds, their feet squelching as they slipped and slid their way towards the Quidditch pitch in the distance. Before Christmas, little more than broken beams and rubble had remained. But now, in a few short months, it had been returned to its former glory: the six goalposts had been erected, the brightly coloured banners of the four houses hung from the newly built stands, and the overgrown grass was now trimmed neatly with fresh white marker paint along the perimeter. Ginny, Harry and Ron looked around excitedly as they entered the completed stadium, delighted grins plastered to their faces at the sight.

"Fancy coming down after dinner for a couple of games?" Harry suggested.

"Sounds good to me," said Ron cheerfully. "Slytherin against Gryffindor?"

That wasn't the only thing that caught Draco's eye. At the centre of the stadium was the latest addition to the Quidditch pitch: a large, semi-circular stage, identical to the one that they had been rehearsing on in the Room of Requirement. As they drew closer, however, Draco also noticed that a group of people—a group of students, by the looks of their uniforms. He squinted in the bright winter sunlight to try and get a better look at who they were.

"Who's that?" Harry wondered aloud.

But as they approached, a couple of familiar (albeit, not entirely welcome) faces came into view. Ron slowed his pace and screwed his face up in disgust.

"What are they doing here?" he asked loudly.

One student, in particular, caught Draco's attention; a small, frail-looking boy with mousy brown hair and a defiant expression. Dennis Creevey stood cross-armed at the edge of the stage, evidently wishing that he was anywhere but here. He and the other members of the recently disbanded Potter's Army stood awkwardly around the stage, avoiding the furious looks from Draco and the others. The jubilant mood evaporated in an instant. Liv hurried up the steps of the wooden stage and turned to face everyone.

"Alright, let me explain what's going on here," she began, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Now, during my brief tenure as Head of Slytherin house, I had some input with regards to the punishment our fellow students would receive for the part they played during the events of Halloween."

"Well, it wasn't just Halloween, was it?" said Pansy angrily. "It was a campaign of terror against us Slytherins!"

There was an angry murmur of agreement and several people nodded their heads. The members of the P.A. said nothing while Dennis clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, all of that has been taken into account," Liv continued. "They've all had their Hogsmeade privileges revoked for the remainder of the year, had detention and suspensions—"

"That's not good enough!" Pansy snapped.

"I quite agree," said Liv evenly. "Which is why they will be spending the remainder of the year assisting us with preparations for the play."

There was an eruption of angry shouts from both Slytherins and Gryffindors alike at that announcement. Liv held up her hands and called over the rabble for calm.

"Alright, that's quite enough! You can shout about it as much as you like, it's already been agreed with the headmistress."

"But this isn't fair!" Pansy yelled. "Why are we being punished when we didn't do anything wrong?"

"This isn't a punishment," Liv argued. "This is an opportunity. We now have a dozen extra pairs of hands that we didn't have before. And we have people ready and willing"—Draco couldn't help but snort with laughter at that claim—"to help us bring this play to life."

"Professor, I know that you mean well, but this is utter bollocks," said Ron. "We don't want them here, they obviously don't want to be here, can't they be punished in some other way—preferably something that doesn't involve any of us?"

Liv's eyes narrowed and she dropped her hands by her sides. "Miss Granger, would you care to remind us what the key themes of Romeo and Juliet are?"

Hermione looked slightly alarmed at being addressed, but she answered nonetheless. "Um, primarily the themes of the play centre around love and hate, judgement, ideological divides, the conflict between individual desires and social institutions..."

"And revenge?" Liv suggested.

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes. Of course."

"In particular, the cycle of revenge neither guarantees a good end nor does it lead to poetic justice," Liv shook her head in dismay. "The last couple of years have been incredibly challenging for all of us. We've all lost something—friends, family members, our homes. Is it fair? No. Will seeking vengeance against those who we deem to be responsible for our pain bring that which we've lost back to us? No. Will it make you feel better about yourself? Maybe, for a little while. Then what? You lie in wait for those who you slighted to take vengeance against you, and it goes back and forth like that, over and over again."

Liv let out a defeated sigh. "We're all hurt, and we're all angry, but if we continue to punish each other, then we never give ourselves the opportunity to move forward. Forgiveness doesn't come easy, and it doesn't change what happened in the past, but it does shape your future. So I'm asking all of you, please, to give each other a chance. You don't have to be friends, I just want you to try and be civil with each other. It's the very least that we all deserve—all of us."

Liv glanced at her watch and shuffled towards the edge of the stage. "That's enough for today, I think. We'll reconvene back here tomorrow afternoon to divide new roles and discuss a rehearsal schedule. Class dismissed."

Liv made her way towards the stadium exit without another word, leaving the students eyeing each other suspiciously. Just then, Theo nudged Draco in the ribs and whispered, "Is it just me, or are you getting some strong Montague and Capulet vibes right now?"

"Hilarious," Draco muttered.

His gaze tracked Dennis as he exited the stage to the left, following in Liv's footsteps as he made his way back up towards the castle with a surly expression.

Typical Hogwarts, Draco thought to himself. Just when one drama seemed to resolve itself, another one reared its ugly head. The next few weeks of rehearsals were going to be fun.