A/N: Hells Bells, I'm so productive this month! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, your enthusiasm is humbling... or ego inflating... it varies from day to day :-D ! Here is your reward for such dedication.

Mirabelle P the Magnificent, what a beauty of a beta-job you did on this one!

The first snow fall was early that year, so Hogsmeade was cold but beautiful for the late November weekend trip. Hogsmeade was at its best in winter Remus thought. The constantly present snow had the ability to hide all imperfections, and it made the village look as though it had come straight from a children's Christmas special. The low gabled roofs of homes and shops almost sagged under the heavy layer of clean white snow, and it seemed as though they only held due to magical reinforcement. The bare-limbed trees that dotted the green at the top of the High Street stood starkly against the opalescent midday sky. Birds who braved the brisk air could been seen easily in silhouette, hopping from nude branch to nude branch, twittering keenly to each other.

The atmosphere immediately transported Remus back to being thirteen again, the age he'd been when he'd first visited the village. He couldn't hold in the smile that broke out over his face as he walked the narrow strip of cobbled street that had been cleared of snow. Students could be seen in every direction. They didn't adhere to the carefully cleared path, foot prints of all sizes dotted the once pristine snow. Trails of unrestrained excitement ran to the door of Zonko's and Honeydukes, and crisscrossed the road to the warmth of The Three Broomsticks or the fashionable Gladrags. Remus's hands fell deep in his pockets as he meandered along. It truly was a magical place.

He was meant to be meeting Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid at The Three Broomsticks at lunchtime for a nearly-end-of-term drink, but it was barely eleven. Content to just soak up the nostalgic feeling of the place, Remus ambled up the main street. His own school days were everywhere he looked: in the little groups of third years still obviously in awe of the place, or just as familiarly in the older students swaggering around like it was their home turf – not that Remus had ever been one to swagger, he had James and Sirius for that. A sixth year looked furtively around before ducking into the doorway of Tomes and Scrolls, and Remus chuckled to himself. He'd been in the same position many times on trips to Hogsmeade. Though he'd not been worried what people would say if they saw him entering the booksellers, he'd always just snuck away from the other three to peruse the shelves in piece. His friends, while excellent, were dreadful companions in a bookshop.

There was one marked difference to the village since Remus had left school – at the end of the high street in an extended part of the green stood a war memorial. In the shadow of an old and twisted willow there was a tall square obsidian obelisk etched with names. The white rows of names were clear and easy to read, and covered all four sides of the black monument. In contrast, the base was a burst of colour, flowers and candles from relatives and friends sat in memory for all the people lost during the war. The ancient weeping willow that grew nearby served the same purpose, its branches already bowed and trailing by nature were made even heavier by tokens and trinkets tied to them. Remus loved the tree, the faded decade-old ribbons and tarnished jewellery hung alongside bright new additions, it was the war visualised – faded but never gone, the memories still fresh but more easy to bear.

Remus entered the memorial section of the garden thinking that perhaps a bit of quiet and fresh air was just what he needed – after two weeks the constant companionship of being under guard was wearing on him. Although at least now that he and Tonks were talking and practicing for her exam, having someone around all the time wasn't nearly as intrusive.

It took Remus a moment to realise the garden wasn't quite as empty as it had looked at first glance. Sitting on a well-disguised garden bench beneath the gnarled and glinting willow was Draco Malfoy. The tree draped its branches so low they brushed the ground in places, so he was barely visible from the street. Draco had a few little shopping bags next to him on the bench, and was picking sweets from a small paper bag with the Honeydukes logo stamped on it. He looked rather morose for a kid with sweets, his mouth downturned and a definite hunch to his shoulders. Remus was unsure whether or not to approach him. Draco never responded very well to his usual tactics for establishing trust with his students. But he was there all alone, and it was very clear to Remus that the boy was unhappy, surely it wouldn't make things worse to talk to him.

"Good morning Draco," Remus said, taking a direct route across the grass toward the huge tree rather than the geometrically perfect limestone paths that led from the gate to the cenotaph, and through the snow-dusted, box-hedged-edged flower beds.

Draco looked around in surprise. "Good Morning Professor," he said, sounding quite concerned. "I'm not out of bounds," he went on quickly, "I asked Professor Snape, he said the student boundary –"

"I wasn't going to tell you off," Remus cut in, approaching the bench, "I actually just wanted to commend you on your recent essay, it was very well researched." Flattery was always a good icebreaker, but it worked even better when it was true, and Draco had presented an exemplary piece of homework last week.

"Thanks…" Draco replied cautiously. "Professor Snape helped me."

"Then you're very lucky," Remus said taking a seat at the other end of the bench. "That man doesn't offer his free time lightly."

This seemed to grab Draco's attention. "I know," he said, more animatedly that he'd ever spoken to Remus before. "He's nicer to me than the other students. That's a bit weird right?"

"I don't know…" Remus began slowly, trying to phrase a modified version on the truth. Actually, it wasn't weird at all. Severus had known Narcissa and Lucius since school, he'd idolised Lucius, and in a twisted way Remus thought he felt at fault for Draco's father's imprisonment, since it was he that sent Riddle after the Potters and to his death. Of course he'd want to help his old friends' son. But Remus only knew this because Hermione had told him in one of their many discussions about the war pre-'81, so he supposed that Draco was right to think this special treatment from an otherwise grouchy bugger a little odd. "He knows you're very clever," Remus continued casually, "Maybe he's worried that will be wasted if you're left to your own devices."

"Why should he care?" Draco asked, sounding more like the boy Remus was used to encountering. Slightly sullen, but not quite enough to be considered rude.

"You mean other than because it's his job?" Remus said at once. Draco twitched his shoulders and picked at his sweets again, his longish blond fringe was caught by the wintery wind, waving up and then falling back into his face. He shivered a little and pulled the collar of his cloak higher. The sky was clear but since it was nearly December in the Highlands the breeze was very crisp and Draco's choice to sit alone outdoors to eat his sweets suddenly seemed very sad to Remus. He decided the young wizard could do with an ego boost. "Slytherin has had few heroes in the past," he said thoughtfully, "and it still has a shadow from the war. Perhaps Professor Snape sees a champion in you."

Draco snickered. It wasn't quite the reaction Remus had be hoping for, but at least it was a reaction. "You're strange Professor," he said, sounding genuinely entertained, but it faded quickly. "I'm not a champion," he murmured to himself, though he was obviously mulling the idea over because he went on after a minute. "My Grandfather says it's better to succeed behind the scenes, advise the heroes rather than be one." He caught Remus's eye briefly before going back to his sweet bag and added, "Less chance of assassination he reckons."

With recent events in mind Remus definitely couldn't fault him. "I'd say that's a very good point," he agreed, "and probably why Slytherin is lacking in famous leaders. They're too busy running the country to give speeches and kiss babies." Draco appeared buoyed by Remus's approval, which was pleasing but odd since he'd never cared about it before. "But to get any sort of advisory job, especially one in the Ministry, you must have excellent marks – and a clean school record," Remus tacked on, suddenly struck by a memory from earlier that week. He had come across Flora and her friends clearly spying on the boy because, as she had told Remus when he'd asked, Draco was "obviously up to something." There was a chance he might take Remus's advice to heart, and admit to whatever it was he had been doing which had raised his cousin's suspicion.

"All the good marks in the world don't make up for being called Malfoy," Draco said quietly, somewhat sullen again.

"Why do you say that?" Remus questioned, surprised that Draco was still on about that. He quite clearly remembered Sirius telling Draco that no such prejudice existed in the Ministry when Draco had arrived after dinner on the last night of Remus's hospital stay.

"Please," Draco all but huffed, "as if you don't know."

Remus ignored the disrespectful tone in favour of keeping him talking. "If you're implying that the Ministry would discriminate against you for your father's crimes you'll find yourself mistaken." Draco did not look convinced. "The way she's going your Aunt Hermione will probably be Minster by the time you're ready to apply and she most definitely wouldn't allow such ancient prejudices to effect recruitment."

Draco didn't bat an eye at this prediction, in fact he nodded and said offhandedly, "Granddad calls her a tireless crusader for the little people."

"I'm sure she'd like that very much," Remus said truthfully.

"He thinks she's mad," Draco expanded, as though Remus hadn't got it.

"Well, possibly." Hermione was definitely mad, but in a determined and unswervingly driven way. "But without her efforts the world would be a very different place."

"Why? You're the one who killed the Dark Lord."

Remus was surprised that Draco's mind had jumped to the war – her achievements in equality were much more recent. Of course, everyone knew that she along with Sirius had been at the Potters when Riddle's body had been collected, and that she had been an active member of the Order, and Draco possibly knew even a bit more than that given his close contact with her all his life, but Remus couldn't help thinking that he sounded almost accusing.

"Call him Riddle Draco," Remus said shortly, "he was not royalty nor peer. He doesn't deserve that phony title." Draco didn't reply to this, but watched Remus with open curiosity, something Remus found oddly comforting. It was a look he was very used to getting. Maybe this was why Draco never talked to him, because he was intimidated by the legend. It was this that made him decide to tell him the truth, or a tiny part of it at least. "Hermione was just as involved in killing him as I was, I just dealt the final blow," he said, thinking that truth really wasn't the correct term. "But the world has moved on, you're not old enough to even remember how it was, so don't let false memories shape who you are now."

"The others do." Draco was now fascinated with the grass at their feet, he toed at it forcefully and little flakes of frost speckled the top of his shoe.

"Then that's their problem," Remus said firmly. He got the impression it was no longer adults Draco was talking about. Was this the reason he was always alone? Old war nonsense cropping up in Slytherin house? "Do the students talk about the war a lot?" he asked.

"More than the adults I know do," Draco said, still focused on the grass. His sweet bag sat forgotten in his lap and his cold-looking fingers gripped the bench tightly on either side of his knees.

"You realise half of what the students say will be myth?"

"That still makes half of it true," Draco shot back at once, he'd obviously heard that before. "So either my father tried to kill Aurors who were just doing their jobs, like Uncle Sirius, or he ran away like a coward. Which one should I believe?"

"Sadly they are both true," Remus said, unwilling to lie. "It was a war – or an uprising I suppose. Riddle's cause spoke to many of the old families who were frightened of change. That, and Riddle's promises of glory and power spoke to men like your father. So Lucius did fight against the Aurors because the Death Eater's goal was to overthrow the government. But then Riddle was dead, and his choices were to run or to hand himself in. I think he thought the only chance he had to be around for you and your mother was if he ran." Remus felt uncomfortable making even the smallest allowance for someone like Malfoy senior, but it was true at least.

"Didn't work," Draco said, redundantly.

"It never could have, not from the moment he joined with Riddle," Remus said as kindly as he could. "The only things you share with Lucius are your looks and your name, you are nothing like him otherwise. Be grateful for that. Your life has not been lacking like so many of the war orphans, your mother and grandfather have been excellent role models for you. You will do very well in the future if you follow their advice."

"But Granny is always going on about the importance of blood, how am I supposed to ignore that?"

"Your great aunt and I…" Remus didn't quite know how to explain that the old woman was a hideous bigot even to this day. She still refused to speak to him, unlike Pollux who, despite not being exactly friendly, at least managed quite cordial conversation when the need arose at official functions and events. "Walburga Black is very selective about the type of blood she deems important," Remus said carefully. "I would suggest you focus on the importance of your Black heritage, if you really want something for her to take pride in."

Draco still wasn't smiling, but he didn't look quite so blue either. He nodded to himself almost imperceptibly and stood from the bench. Then, in a move that Remus could not have predicted, Draco held out his paper Honeydukes bag. "Would you like one? It's just a sickle mix, I think I've eaten all the nice ones."

Remus gave a little laugh, incredibly pleased to have won the boy over, and picked a sweet at random from the bag. It was a chunk of white chocolate with bright pink and green bits of something through it.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "Yup," he said taking the bag back and poking at the dregs with his forefinger. "Pixie Poppers," he explained, looking at Remus's selection, "you're definitely welcome to that."

"Thanks," Remus said, wary about eating the chocolate now.

Draco left after that. Remus watched him all the way down the high street, the village was still crowded with students but Draco's pale hair made him easy to spot. His shopping bags swung from his hand while he walked quickly back toward the school.

Remus followed Draco from the park after a time, regretting his decision to put the chocolate in his mouth, because it still felt as though there were fireworks going off all over his tongue. The first thing he noticed when he re-entered the main street was a very anxious-looking Tonks hurrying toward him. Her pink hair poked out spikily from beneath her winter hat and her face was pale from cold, except for her cheeks which nearly matched her hair. As soon as she was near enough she started hissing at him.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere!" She dragged him down the gap between Madame Puddifoots and Scrivenshaft's. "Thought I was going to have to tell Moody I'd lost you! God that would be the bloody worst. Where were you?"

"I was at the memorial," Remus said in shock. He'd momentarily forgotten that he was supposed to be under guard in case someone tried to attack him again – although his guard was only meant to be at night. "Since when are you here during the day?" he asked.

"Since you're leaving the castle. Moody thought it would be a good idea, but I couldn't find you anywhere." She let out what was obviously a sigh of relief, and gave him a familiar wan smile. "Merlin, way to make a girl panic."

"Sorry, if you'd told me you were going to be here I would have met you." Remus was distracted by her grip on his arm, she always seemed to be touching him these days. He probably shouldn't have been pleased about that, but he was. "Why does Moody insist on you lot sneaking around?" he asked.

"Dunno, because he's an old loon probably," she said, but she sounded affectionate more than anything.

"Probably," Remus agreed. "I'm meeting a few of the other teachers at the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime, did you want come along?"

Tonks nodded. "Sure, I'll just sit nearby though, being seen together is one thing, but if I'm sitting at the table with them we'll have to lie about I'm there since only McGonangall knows the real reason, and…" she gave him an awkward little grimace, "I'm not sure how convincing you'd be."

"I feel like I should be offended," Remus said, "but you're probably right." He was wondering if it would just be easier to return to the castle, but he didn't want to stand the others up. "Sorry you have to give up your Saturday," he apologized.

"It's no bother," Tonks said easily. "Trainee Aurors don't get a social life anyway." Then she released his elbow to link her arm through his. Remus couldn't help lifting his eyebrows at her apparent familiarity. But Tonks just shrugged and scrunched up her face in concentration. Her pink spikes flowed into the long dark waves of her cover as his evening visitor. He was disappointed to see the bright hair vanish. Then she hooked his arm more tightly in hers and steered them off in the direction on the pub. Remus made a slight sound of protest at being in public in such a position and tried to pull away. Didn't she realise the gossip she would start? She did not let him go however. Instead he was met with a look of incredulity as she said, "What? There's no way I'm going to let you wander off again."

Resigned to the hundred and one questions he would be facing from his students on Monday about his girlfriend Remus allowed himself to be towed along. Being kept alive really did seem like a lot of effort these days.