Harry was sitting in his Philosophy classroom when Kemler entered, slamming the door behind him. It was two weeks before the end of the semester, and everyone was praying he would cancel the end-of-week quiz in leiu of giving an exam review. Kemler, however, stood in front of the room, and smirked. It was a smirk that would have struck fear into the hearts of the most fearsome professor Harry had ever known before - Severus Snape. Even he would have been trembling in his boots. And then Kemler began to speak, and the class was even more frightened than before.

"I've just decided to switch our Friday schedule to Monday, which means that the test we take each Friday, on what we learned during the week, will now take place on Monday before we've learned it; but since today is Tuesday it doesn't matter in the slightest... Pencils ready." And with that, he began passing out the quizzes.

The following two weeks went by slowly, but Harry and Draco both passed their senior defenses. When they discovered this, they grabbed a few friends and went to the nearest bar. Ash, a friend of Harry's challanged Draco to a drinking contest. A bottle of tequila was brought forthalong withtwo shot glasses. Draco, eventually realizing she was winning, conceeded, asking, "How did you bloody well do that?"

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing the prepared speach that was coming. "Tough girls come from New York, sweet girls, they're from Georgia. But we Virginia girls... We have fire and ice in our blood. We can ride horses, be a debutante, throw left hooks, and drink with the boys, all the while making sweet tea, darlin'. And if we have an opinion, you know you're gonna hear it."

Draco turned to Harry, "You know, she reminds me of Ginny. A lot."

"Yeah, I know. Frightening, isn't it?"

"I miss Gin," Draco sighed. "I think I want to try and go back."

"I know what you mean. I miss Ron and 'Mione."

Ash gave them a quizzical look, "This is about your mysterious past, isn't? And the nightmares?"

"How do you know about the nightmares?"

"Oh. Please. I rented an appartment with you for two years. I know more about you than you think I do."

"I don't want to know," Harry muttered, shaking his head.

As, he, Draco and Ash left the bar, and headed for their appartments, the thought of returning not only to England, but to the magical world kept resurfacing with a clarity that alcohol hardly ever gave.

"Draco..." Harry prompted once they had returned to their appartment. "What would you say to a little visit to England?"

"Scary. But I think I want to. I miss Ginny so much. My first real friend."

"Let's go."

"When?"

"Tonight."

Harry strolled hesitantly toward the closet in his room, and pulled out his Hogwarts trunk. He ran his hands over, almost as if in prayer, before opening the lid and removing his wand and a green traveling cloak. When he turned around, he found Draco strapping his wand into the wrist holster he wore during the war. Harry did the same before pulling the cloak around himself. "Sobrietus," he murmured, pointing his wand at himself, then at Draco, repeating the charm. He glanced into Draco's eyes and pulled up the hood of his cloak, wrapped one arm around Draco's waist and apparated them to the Leaky Cauldron. The landed in the main room, nearly clear of customers, but old Tom was still behind the bar. "We need a room for the night," Harry said, not removing his hood.

"Three galleons, and your names," Tom said, holding out a register book and a quill.

"What do you say to six galleons, and we forget our names?" Harry inquired.

Tom, always looking for proffit, smiled. "Hello, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Smith. The first room on your right, second floor, is free."

Both young men were too nervous and excited to sleep, and spent the few hours before dawn simply talking over old times. When seven AM rolled around, they transfigured their clothes into pristing black slacks and white shirts before wrapping themselves once more in their cloaks. They found Tom at the bar again, serving breakfast. Harry approached again. "Sir, we're looking for a Mr. Ronald Weasley; do you know where I might find him?"

"Well, he teaches at Hogwarts during the year, but you'll find him at the Burrow. His mum and da left it to him when they died."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. They were good people. Thank you."

Harry and Draco strolled over to the fireplace, tossed in a pinch of floo powder and shouted, "The Burrow!"

Harry made a clean exit, having learned sometime during his seventh year, and Draco followed, looking more prim than before, flicking off the one peice of ash that dared mar his robe.

Harry breathed in deep once before removing his hood and calling out, "Ron?"

A tall young man with red hair and blue eyes emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron, and carrying a baby. "Oh, bloody hell!"