Does anyone remember this story? Haha, it's been ages since I did anything on it, but lo and behold, here's a new chapter! I hope you like it...


"Is he alright?" Lupin inquired as he and Hermione cleared away the dishes.

"He's as well as can be expected, I suppose," Hermione said, directing empty cereal bowls towards the sink with her wand. "He didn't really want to talk."

"Understandable, to be sure. I can't help wondering if I should have taken him aside, told him in private." The greying man sagged slightly and Hermione looked at him comfortingly.

"I'm sure even if you had it wouldn't have made it any easier. From the way he reacted, it seemed as though he might have expected it."

"The poor boy," Lupin murmured. "You know that I will be the first to agree that the Malfoys were a bad lot, but to lose both parents in so short a time… it's a severe blow for anyone to take. The werewolf found himself thinking of Harry. Harry had gone through the same thing, ironically.

"Hermione," he said, looking around to make sure that no one else was around. "Have you ever thought that Draco and Harry are oddly similar?"

The girl started. "Not really, Professor."

Lupin couldn't be bothered to remind Hermione that he was no longer her teacher. "Think about it, Hermione; a clever witch like you should be able to see at least a few similarities. Both of them are quite bright, gifted Quidditch players, astonishingly single-minded when they get an idea into their heads… and now, with Draco's loss… both are without parents…" He trailed off, wondering if what he had said had made any sense.

"I suppose…" Hermione said skeptically. "But they fought on different sides. They had completely different ideals."

"Not completely different. Loyalty, pride, the desire to prove themselves – history gives us plenty of examples of soldiers on opposite sides being more similar than most people think. Or would be willing to think," he added, feeling oddly philosophical for just after breakfast.


It was not until well after lunchtime that Draco ventured downstairs again, in part because he didn't want to have to face his housemates, and in part because he'd been having a good long cry and he'd waited until his eyes were no longer red. It was strange – he'd trained himself to avoid tears ("Death Eaters are loyal servants of the Dark Lord, and must show no weakness," his father had told him) but now it seemed all his work had gone to waste. Just one more thing to dampen his day, quite literally.

He didn't see anyone in the kitchen, or the large sitting room. He'd been hoping to catch Lupin alone; maybe he could have even dealt with the Mudblood. But where was everyone?

Wandering through the unfamiliar house, he noticed a number of Dark artifacts. That's right, he remembered, this house once belonged to the Black family. He supposed there were worse places to be trapped – it was just the company that was so terrible.

He turned a corner and came upon what appeared to be the back door. Peering through the window, he could see everyone relaxing in a sparse but tidy back garden. Potter lay on the ground, Ginny's head resting on his chest. Fred was absently charming some dandelions to change color; Ron was looking on with mild interest. Longbottom and Granger were talking quietly – Granger! He could hardly believe he'd cried on her shoulder in his weakness. And Lupin sat in a lawn chair, observing them all, ever the benevolent one.

Draco narrowed his eyes and opened the door.


Remus Lupin had been rather enjoying the warmth of the spring sun. There was a peace in the garden that had never been felt in the old, ominous house. Of course, when the back door opened, the peace was somewhat upset.

"Good afternoon, Draco," he said.

The boy stared back at him intently, seemingly refusing to look at anyone else. "I believe there are some arrangements I must make," he said in a tone that was perhaps too even.

"Yes. Yes, of course." Remus quickly rose from the dingy yet comfortable wicker chair, excusing himself and entering the house with Draco. "I think we'll find the sitting room most comfortable," he said. Draco shrugged and followed.

The sitting room wasn't very comfortable for Remus (or indeed for most people) even though the heavy curtains had been drawn and some cheerful sunlight nearly made it to the dark corners of the room. No matter how much they tried to clean up Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, it always retained an air of the darkness characteristic of its previous owners – Not Sirius, though, he thought. Sirius wasn't like them. Remus absently thought that maybe Draco would find the room to his liking, and then decided that was enough. These concepts of Light and Dark… they don't apply anymore. He's just a kid.

"I know this will be hard for you to do, Draco," Remus said as kindly as he could. The boy gazed back without emotion, his hands resting stiffly on the arms of a musty old chair. "I suppose most people have to bury their parents at some point, but we never expect it to come so soon."

Draco replied without hesitation. "Father and Mother made some preparations. There are places prepared for them in the mausoleum in the family cemetery. The matter of their wills was settled through the family attorney, a Mister Justinius Prawley. No doubt he will have come to know of my situation. We may expect an owl from him in the near future."

Remus marveled – the boy's cold attitude reminded him so much of Lucius. He spoke so calmly, but he couldn't have come to terms with his loss so quickly. He was covering it up; he had to be. No matter how well Draco could put on the mask of staunch Malfoy indifference when the need arose, Remus wasn't about to be fooled.

"At the funeral," Remus said, "is there to be any ceremony? A service? Some words said, perhaps?"

"Is it worth it? No one will attend. All the family friends are dead or in Azkaban, Lupin, just like the family. You know that just as well as I do." A corner of the mask was peeling away.

Remus did not want to admit to Draco that he was probably right. "You won't be alone. Your father had many friends."

Draco laughed shortly. "He had many allies, you mean. Don't talk about things you don't understand, werewolf," he said, a cruel edge to his voice. "You know nothing about me or my family."

Remus could have reacted with indignation, and indeed, he had to struggle not to. Instead, he strove for understanding. Dumbledore was trusting him to look after these children, and wasn't that what Dumbledore would have done?

"But I know about grief. Every single person living in this house knows about grief."

A sneer formed on Draco's lips. "Quit acting like you give a damn. And tell Granger to do the same." And before Remus could tell him that neither of them was acting, the young Malfoy had swiftly taken his leave.


Harry looked up with concern and curiosity in his green eyes as Remus Lupin came back out into the fresh air of the yard. The man threw himself down into his wicker chair, exasperated lines on his unshaven face.

"What's up?" he asked.

Remus smiled faintly. "Mr. Malfoy and I just discussed a few arrangements, nothing more." Despite their gentle attempts to pry, he refused to say any more.

"He's never getting his wand back, let me just say that much," said Ron, plucking one of Fred's charmed dandelions out of the ground and leaning over to tuck it behind Hermione's ear.

Remus sat up in his chair. "Harry, might I borrow Hedwig tonight? I need to send a letter to Professor Snape." Harry answered in the affirmative, and after that there was very little talking, for none of them wished to spoil the little bit of sunshine they had at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.


My chapters are never as long as I think they are... maybe they seem long while I'm working on them because I'm such a slow writer. But it matters not. I hope you found this chapter to your liking, and I hope that you leave a nice review. Suggestions for future chaptersare welcome, too!