A/N: Sorry for late chapter. I'm behind on work because I was sick all last week.

Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.

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Draco wasn't certain what he had been expecting out of an apprenticeship, but all things considered, he was actually enjoying it. France was beautiful at this time of the year, and his family had such ample connections there that Draco rather felt at home, still sitting in the lap of luxury he was accustomed to. His mother made sure of it. That was not to say the work was easy, of course, but his extra lessons with Professor Granger had paid off handsomely. Faulkner—a tall wizard nearing his fifties, with dark hair that was steadily turning silver and piercing gray eyes—was everything Professor Granger had warned him he would be. Strict, exacting, advanced. But also fair. He was an easy man to work with, and Draco found that—thanks to the level of training he already had—he was also difficult to displease. Draco suspected that he would have enjoyed having him as a teacher at Hogwarts.

Faulkner worked as a Curse-Breaker for a strange sort of shop that sold everything—from rare books to old heirlooms, the shop was an oddly organized clutter of things that only collectors could possibly want. Unlike Borgin and Burkes, they did not sell cursed objects to their customers, forewarned or not. Draco's first day was spent prodding at an old leather-bound book that threatened to burn out the eyes of any reader belonging to the fairer sex. Faulker had easily thrown this assignment at him, given that Draco was under no threat of incurring the book's wrath, but it had not been an easy spell to unravel.

At some point, it stopped becoming a chore, and the challenge became part of the fun—particularly as Faulkner began entrusting him with more difficult curses to pry apart. With some, the challenge was to remove the curse without removing the other magical spells attached to the object, or he risked stripping the object of all of its value. A very fine old, antique but still-serviceable flying carpet was brought in one day, and Faulkner had used it as an opportunity to demonstrate how to remove its accompanying Bucking Charm without damaging the other spells that made the carpet function as it should.

"My godfather said you used to teach at Hogwarts," Draco said one evening, while he was examining a silver necklace that had been brought in that morning. "What made you leave?"

"I only agreed to teach for a year," Faulkner said simply, coming to stand behind Draco and take a look at his progress. "I didn't care to test the limits of the jinx."

"I thought you were supposed to be a Curse-Breaker," Draco said, giving Faulkner a shrewd look.

"I spent a year searching for the curse," Faulkner replied, unruffled. "I couldn't find it."

"Professor Granger's coming back to teach next year," Draco said, poking at the necklace with the tip of his wand. There was a sudden snapping sound, as the necklace morphed into a pair of silvery jaws with ivory-white teeth; Draco quickly tapped it again, and the teeth crumbled to dust. The necklace transformed back into its silver chain, and did not stir after yet another prodding. "And she taught for years after you left."

"So she did."

"But other teachers didn't survive even after she left," Draco said with sudden realization. "How'd she do that?"

"That would mean one of two things," Faulkner said, leaning against the work table. "Care to list them?"

Draco picked up the necklace, holding it up in the light where it dangled harmlessly from his fingers. "Either she broke the curse and re-cast it after she left, or she found a way to get around it."

"Very good," Faulkner said evenly. "Personally, I would place my bets on it being the latter."

"Did you teach her, sir?" Draco asked, already knowing the answer.

"Hmm. Yes," Faulkner said, taking the necklace from Draco and turning it over in his hands. "One of my best students, I'd say. Fine duelist, sharp wit, plenty of magical skill coupled with a tendency to get in trouble. Very memorable."

"Trouble, sir?" Draco asked, almost eagerly.

"Oh, yes. Earned herself and her partner-in-crime a slew of detentions after sneaking out to Hogsmeade, among other things." Faulkner gave Draco a faint smile. "She had a habit of sending the Slytherins up to the hospital wing, they liked to have a go at her." He tilted his head again, this time to the other side. "They never learned."

"Did you know she'd married?" Draco asked, thinking quickly.

"Not at all," Faulkner said, sounding politely curious as he set the necklace aside for the shop proprietor to deal with. "Who?"

"Care to take a guess?" Draco asked, hoping he wouldn't be called out on his bluff.

There was a pause, and Draco watched Faulkner tilt his head to the side for just a moment, whether in consideration or in dredging up memories. At last, he said, "The Snape boy, I suppose?"

Draco nearly dropped his wand.

"I—who?"

Faulkner straightened. "He was a year above her. Come to think of it," he said, summoning an old snuffbox from the shelf and sliding it over for Draco to look at, "he wrote one of your letters of recommendation."

"He—he's my head of house," Draco stammered, struggling to mask his surprise. "But I thought—you just said she—" He struggled to explain himself. "Professor Snape's a Slytherin, sir."

"Oh," Faulkner said pleasantly. "Yes. She sent him up to the Hospital Wing, too."

Draco gaped at him. Faulkner tapped the snuffbox with his wand.

"Enough chit-chat for now. Take a look at this."

~o~O~o~

As far as summers went, this was one of the ones that dragged by far too slowly when at this point, all Selenius wanted was for it to end. Aside from riding Buckbeak and playing chess, he had next to nothing to do aside from the homework that had been assigned over the summer. He'd already finished it months ago.

He didn't want to go to the Burrow. His face still burned red with shame and humiliation at the thought of facing his Quidditch teammates again, and he would rather be alone than deal with them. He occasionally got correspondence from Draco (and Sue Li and Terry Boot, if only to continue their chess games by owl mail), but he was in France.

Some days, he wandered out of the house and walked down to the beach. Sometimes, Buckbeak would amble after him, as though to keep an eye on him. More often than not, though, it was Crookshanks who followed at his heels. He skipped stones, dug up shells, and half-entertained the idea of finding and identifying potions ingredients before giving up. He wasn't allowed to brew potions on his own, anyway. His father usually dropped by two or three times a week, and rather than play chess, Selenius begged him to supervise his brewing—but it wasn't often enough.

And his mother dropped by even less. On the occasions that she did, she was never fully present.

Selenius found it extremely disheartening.

Sirius sensed that something was not quite right with him, but being good godfather that he was, he didn't interrogate Selenius about it. He did everything he could to try and cheer him up, though, which Selenius greatly appreciated. But then Harry would drop by, oftentimes with Ron or Ginny, and Selenius would be flying out the door before they had finished stepping out of the fireplace.

One evening in mid-August, Harry finally followed him down to the beach, with Buckbeak loping behind him at a jaunty pace. Selenius was already a-ways down the shoreline when he heard Harry call him from the rocky slope leading back to the cottage.

"Wait up!"

Selenius frowned, and then scooped up a rock and chucked it into the surf.

"What do you want?" he snapped, when Harry had jogged up close enough to hear.

"Look," Harry said, coming to a halt. Buckbeak loped past him and dipped his talons into the wave, scraping at the sand below. He shook his wings as the salty spray hit him, and Harry and Selenius both held up their hands to cover themselves. "Where've you been all summer? You haven't been over at all."

"I didn't realize I was supposed to," Selenius said sullenly.

Harry lowered his arms, giving Selenius an odd look. For a moment, Selenius had the impression that he was being scrutinized, and he bristled. He didn't want Harry's judgment.

"Selenius," Harry said at last, his lips twisting slightly over the unusual name, "we want you with us."

"Funny," Selenius scowled. "That wasn't the impression I got last time."

Harry held up his hands. "Look," he said, "you're a first-year. I wasn't fighting Death Eaters when I was eleven, either."

"No, you just got into other sorts of trouble."

"Selenius, did you see anyone below fifth year join us?" Harry asked, folding his arms. Selenius's scowl deepened, but he didn't answer. "Anyone who hadn't been in Dumbledore's Army last year?"

No response.

"Your mum would have killed us all if we let you go." Harry grimaced, and then offered Selenius a light-hearted smile that was obviously meant to make peace before adding, "And then your dad would have turned the bodies into horned toads and pickled them."

There was a moment of silence. Selenius's expression turned blank and impassive, unresponsive to Harry's humor, and then he turned to look at the water lapping at their feet.

"Just go away," he said quietly.

Harry didn't move from the spot for a long time, but Selenius didn't pay attention to when he finally left. He just knew that when he turned around to see where Crookshanks had wandered off to, the older boy was gone.

Selenius bent down and picked up the ginger half-kneazle, hugging him to his chest. Draco was the only one who treated him like someone capable and trustworthy. To some degree, he thought his housemates respected him on the Quidditch pitch, but now he thought they really didn't. Perhaps there was some truth Zacharias Smith's off-handed suggestion that Harry only put him on the team because of his Firebolt. With regards to everyone else, he was treated like a great big secret—a fragile, delicate secret that had to be hid at all costs. He considered the way Ginny had Petrified more of a symptom of the larger issue of how people treated him than anything regarding the situation itself.

He was tired of living like this. Of being forced to fit in, to capitulate and concede on just about everything, to stand back and just watch. To hide who he was. Harry was probably right when he said that his parents would have been furious with them if they'd let him come, but who's to say they would have ever found out? And even if they did, what could they have done about it after the fact? They wouldn't have been any more furious than Mrs. Weasley had been when she found out.

He frowned to himself as he reconsidered this. His father was the one who occasionally let him stretch his wings and have a little freedom—he was the one who had put him on Buckbeak's back, after all, and talked his mother into letting him ride a broom. He was the one who came over to Tine Cottage and showed him how to brew, or took him along the shoreline to look for ingredients. His father wasn't as restrictive as his mother, but Selenius still couldn't see him being happy about him joining the older students to fight Death Eaters. Especially seeing how his father also had the Dark Mark…

Perhaps it was better that he hadn't gone.

Crookshanks began to wriggle in his arms, feeling that Selenius had gone over his allotted cuddle time, and he reluctantly let him go.

Sometimes, he wished the Sorting Hat had put him in Slytherin instead. The Hat had whispered into his ear that Slytherin was where he would make his real friends, and now Selenius thought that he was right. There was also the suggestion that he would be well-suited for Ravenclaw. Still, Selenius had grown up with stories about the Golden Trio and the Marauders. The Sorting Hat had the grace to mention that there was a place for Selenius in Gryffindor, too, if he wanted it. And like the fool that he was, he'd taken it.

I want it! He'd cried.

Are you sure about that? The Sorting Hat had slyly asked.

Yes! He insisted. Please!

Now he regretted it—at times, he regretted that decision more than anything else. And his second year hadn't even started yet. There were some good points, of course, the more he thought about it—he saw first-hand as a Gryffindor how the other students saw Slytherins and talked about them behind their backs. As a Gryffindor, he avoided being painted with that brush, and was in a position to be rather liked by the other houses.

He turned to Buckbeak and bowed low, unblinkingly. After a moment of beady-eyed consideration, Buckbeak bowed back, and Selenius took two steps forward and tapped the Hippogriff's side.

"May I ride, please?" he asked softly.

Buckbeak turned his fearsome gaze onto him, and then knelt down low enough for Selenius to haul himself on.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, reaching down to grab Crookshanks by the scruff of his neck. He hauled the half-kneazle up, and the cat took a moment to situate himself before Buckbeak took off down the shoreline at a running start. A moment later, he lunged, and Selenius felt a smile spread across his face as the hippogriff took flight.

He let out a cry of delight as the wind whipped against his face, tasting of freedom.

~o~O~o~

They were all climbing aboard the Hogwarts Express, shuffling around the find compartments. Harry saw Hermione and Tonks patrolling the corridors, and was somewhat relieved that the Ministry had learned its lesson this time—there were at least two trained Aurors on here and a fully competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He saw Selenius stop Malfoy in the middle of the corridor to say something to him, and then they parted ways, Selenius working his way over to Harry's compartment.

"Hi," he said, sliding the door open and sitting down opposite of Luna. He set down Crookshanks' carrier, and let the slightly irate half-kneazle out.

Harry's eyebrows raised at this, surprised, but he made no complaints and simply shut the compartment door.

"Final year, eh?" Ron said, peering out the window. "Can you believe it?"

"I don't envy you," Ginny said cheerfully. "You'll be loaded with homework."

"And we're not?" Selenius countered.

"Just wait until you get to fifth year."

The train began to move, and they all got up to look out the window. Sirius was standing by the Weasleys, waving at them as they passed.

It wasn't until Selenius dug into his knapsack for a snack that he found something lumpy wrapped in tinfoil. Thinking it would be a sandwich, and not finding anything more filling, he reluctantly pried it apart.

A grin suddenly spread across his face.

It was an extremely large slice of cake, with the words Happy Birthday written on it in red and gold icing.

Tucked to the side was a scrap of parchment that read Love, Mum.

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~Anubis Ankh