A/N: I wanted to share three POVs to show the full scope of the consequences of Theo's fuck-up in the last chapter, so buckle up for an extra-long read. Also, I've started adding dates to the chapters (went back and added them to previously published chapters too), mostly to help myself keep the story timeline straight but also to give readers some additional context.

Edited: 8/8/22, original publish date

TW: Nothing new... I mean you all get what this fic is about by now, right?

Sunday, February 13, 2000

Theo awoke with a splitting headache and the unique misery of being hungry and nauseous at the same time. Any food he could imagine roiled his stomach, but he knew he'd have to brave eating something to take the edge off his hunger. It just needed to have no discernable taste or odor to ensure it stayed down.

He rolled over and stretched, carefully opening his eyes and adjusting to the sunlight streaming into his room from the bedside window. Then, once the room stopped spinning he promptly screamed in shock at seeing the form of Draco Malfoy staring at him from the armchair four feet from his bed.

"The fuck! Why are you watching me sleep??" The volume of his own voice made Theo's head pound harder and he winced, gingerly lowering himself back into a reclined position.

Draco continued to stare. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hands were steepled in front of his mouth giving him a comtemplative look, but not disguising the muscles in his jaw flexing restlessly. It would be clear to anyone who knew him well (which Theo did) that Draco was furious.

"What do you remember from last night?" Draco's tone was low and gravelly. It sent a chill racing down Theo's spine.

"I..." Theo tried to swallow but his tongue felt too dry. Now that he focused on doing so, he found that he could in fact remember every uncomfortable detail about the night before. "Draco, before you yell at me, it's very important that I get to Granger's apartment. It might be too late. I'm not sure when..."

"It's taken care of," Draco tersely interrupted.

"Huh?" Was Theo's eloquent response.

For a moment, Draco seemed disinclined to elaborate, but he relented and added, "Pansy floo called last night. The aurors were tipped off again and searched her apartment."

"Another anonymous tip? Did they find anything? Is Granger okay?" Theo asked in rapid succession.

"We won't know anything more until Potter gets in touch with Pansy."

"But Granger..."

"Did you know," Draco spoke in a near whisper, now leaning forward with his forearms settled on his thighs, "that I still have nightmares of the war? I relive every terrible crime I committed and every horrible act I witnessed."

Theo nodded. He had suspected that Draco had many demons haunting him from the war, but they never talked about it. Not explicitly.

"Can you guess what the worst of them is?"

Theo shook his head.

"It's not hearing Professor Burbage's bones snap as she's eaten alive by a giant snake. It's not smelling Crabbe's burning flesh while I ran for my own life. It's not feeling the agony of receiving the Dark Mark."

"I'm so sorry, Draco..." It was a blanket apology, for everything Draco had lived through and for however he had made it all worse last night. Draco ignored him.

"It's watching Hermione Granger being tortured on my family's drawing room floor. She was hit with the cruciatus curse more times than a human should be able to survive, carved open with a knife, and who knows what sick things Greyback was whispering in her ears the whole time. She was bleeding and writhing and pleading for it all to stop... That's the worst one because I didn't know Professor Burbage personally, but I knew Granger... because Crabbe deserved what he got, but Granger was innocent... and because while I'm branded for life as punishment for my own stupid decisions, Granger has to walk around with a permanent scar of the word 'mudblood' on the same arm as punishment for existing."

Theo cringed. That slur hadn't fallen from Draco's lips in years. It felt like poison in the air.

He also hadn't known about Granger's scar. She must cast a charm to hide it.

"It's my worst memory for a million reasons, but mostly because if I had been more clever or brave or good, I could've done something to help her, and I didn't. Before that moment I'd always told myself that I was a victim of circumstance, but I had power and agency on that day and I did nothing with it. After that, I never wanted to be in a position of having to watch Granger suffer and fail to act ever again, but that's exactly what I did last night."

"I..."

Draco stormed on relentlessly. He'd grown steadily louder and was now nearly bellowing each word.

"Her crying sounded the same! It was exactly the same, and I couldn't do anything to help except to get you away from her, but you will fix this and you will fix it fast!"

"Yes, I'll go apologize right now!" Theo quickly offered. He felt so ashamed. He'd hurt Granger when all he'd intended to do by meeting her last night was try to save her life, and he'd hurt Draco, by making him relive a traumatic moment from the war. Draco took several deep breaths and stood abruptly, walking to the fireplace and gripping the mantle.

"No," Draco said after he'd remastered himself, in an even tone once again. "You'll write your apologies in a letter. If she agrees to see you after that, you can say it all again in person, but you won't approach her before then."

"What if I have another vision..."

"You'll stay away from her, Theo. I'm serious. Granger seems to have a guardian angel. She doesn't need you."

Theo nodded glumly.

"Start writing. Pansy and Granger stayed at my place last night and I'm leaving in an hour to check on them."

Draco said nothing more and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Are you sure Malfoy won't mind that we slept here last night?"

"Positive. He already knows we're here. I floo called him before I went to bed last night. Oh, speak of the devil and he shall appear!" A soft chime rang out, indicating that someone had arrived via floo. "We're in the kitchen, Draco!"

"Did you make coffee, by any chance? I didn't sleep at all last night," Draco walked into the kitchen where Pansy and Hermione had already made themselves at home with a breakfast spread of buttered toast, jammy eggs, yogurt, and fresh berry compote, all courtesy of Linney's culinary skills.

"Yes, Linney already made cappuccino for Miss Hermione!" Linney chirped. "Is Mister Draco liking the same kind?"

"That's fine," Draco was in the process of loosening his tie when Pansy cleared her throat and tipped her head in Hermione's direction. "Er, thanks, Linney," he added hastily. Hermione grinned. Pansy must have warned him of her sensitivities regarding elvish welfare. "All right, Granger?" He sat himself next to her at the counter and gave her a quick once over as though checking for physical injuries. They both knew that he was really asking after her mental health though, given the breakdown he'd had a front row seat to last night.

"Yes, er, I'm good..." she stammered, unaccountably nervous that Malfoy might be able to guess the reasons behind her instability. Was 'rape victim' now stamped across her forehead? Could he tell that her reaction last night hadn't been normal? "I'm really sorry..."

"Don't, Granger!" Pansy snapped. "Theo is the one who fucked up."

Hermione fidgeted in her seat. "Yes, well, I still may have overreacted... I was a bit tipsy last night too..."

"It doesn't matter! Theo did something thoughtless and he hurt you, so you're allowed to feel upset!" Pansy stomped her foot forcefully.

"I come bearing Theo's apologies actually," Malfoy waved a thick envelope pulled from his pocket for her to see. "They are profuse and acknowledge unequivocal blame for the events of last night, I can assure you."

There wasn't a seal on the envelope. Hermione got the impression that Draco could assure her of the contents because he had already read them.

"If you decide to permit it, he would also like the chance to apologize in person, but you can say no if you don't want to see him, of course. You set the terms."

"Thanks, um... I'll think about it..." Hermione grasped the letter and set it down next to her plate, determined to read it in private later in case she got all weepy again. Thinking through what Draco had just said though, she was struck by a sense of déja vu. A slow smile crept across her face as she placed his words. "This is all terribly familiar," she said in mock consternation. "Where have I heard this before?"

The slightest pinkening of Malfoy's ears was the only indication that he'd caught on to her meaning. His face remained otherwise stoic as he casually answered, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" Pansy leaned in with interest. She could smell an embarrassing story like sharks could smell blood in the water.

"This is exactly how Malfoy apologized to me at the beginning of eigth year," Hermione added to Pansy in a stage whisper before returning to beaming at Malfoy. "Rather kind of you to share the Malfoy Mea Culpa Method with Theo."

The pink of Malfoy's ears had now spread to the back of his neck, which he seemed aware of as his hand drifted up to attempt to rub it away.

"I should go try and get some sleep after all. Feel free to stay as long as you'd like..." Then he bolted from the kitchen and disappeared down a long corridor, completely abandoning his full cup of coffee.

Pansy cackled with glee. "That rat bastard! He never even hinted that he'd reached out to you to make amends. Did you forgive him?"

"I did. He was very earnest," Hermione confessed, reminiscing about how he had shuffled his feet and stumbled through a clearly rehearsed speech when she'd agreed to meeting him in Hogsmeade to hear the verbal Part Two of his apology. "Actually, he was quite unfair to himself. I appreciated the apology for the bullying and bigotry, but I didn't need one for even half the things he took the blame for during the war."

Pansy sighed. "Yeah, he's a dramatic, self-important bitch. To hear him tell it, he's the one who started the whole war in sixth year and everything that happened afterwards is really his fault."

"I know!" Hermione laughed. "When I told him he was like Harry in that way I thought he'd hex me. But at the bottom of a bottle Harry also claims the whole war was his fault for being born."

"They're both ridiculous!" Pansy threw her hands up into the air and munched on the corner of a piece of toast she'd dipped in her egg yolk. "But I want to make sure you know that what Theo did wasn't okay. If he'd done that to me I would've been outraged. Be as mad as you like and cry as much as you want because of it."

"I don't want to punish Theo for stepping on a landmine he didn't know existed," Hermione argued.

"That won't be why he deserves your censure, Granger. It'll be because he stuck his nose in someone else's business and overstepped the boundaries of basic human decency. You don't send racy messages to a friend's boyfriend, even if they don't have your history," she emphasized her point by tapping Hermione's nose with the eggy end of her bread.

Hermione cleaned her face with her napkin before swatting Pansy. "All right," she relented, "I'll be mad at Theo if you insist."

"I really do," Pansy nodded.

"But I have a bigger problem to handle right now..."

"Oh?"

"What the hell am I supposed to tell Marc about what happened last night?"

"Oh, yeah... shit."

"Shit, indeed."

Monday, February 14, 2000

As it turned out, Marc was gracious and understanding about the whole debacle. Hermione explained via text that a friend had enjoyed too much to drink the night before and had thought it would be a laugh to send spicy text messages to him - which was more or less exactly what happened. Pansy also helped Hermione work out the right way to phrase her worry that Marc would take those texts as an indicator that Hermione was ready to deepen their physical relationship, when in actuality she still wasn't there yet.

"I do wish you'd been the author of those texts, but I won't expect anything because of them. I'll be here when you're ready," he had replied. It was a huge relief to Hermione that he was handling everything with such maturity and that he hadn't pressed for details when she'd alluded to 'something that had happened to her that led her to be cautious about physical intimacy' (Pansy's wordsmithing).

Ironically, she found his reaction very sexy.

It was too early in their relationship to celebrate Valentine's Day together as a couple, so they didn't have any plans to meet up that evening, but Marc did invite her to an art gallery opening on Saturday, so they'd see each other soon enough. Hermione felt at peace.

Work was another story, however. Tensions with her boss, Macnair, had reached an all-time high as he continued to stonewall any ideas she put forward. She'd wasted months arguing with him in good faith, but figured it was time to acknowledge that he was never going to allow her to propose real legislation. So, she was preparing to go over his head to present her HELP Act directly to the Wizangamot without his knowlege or approval. She'd arrived at work early that morning to put a few finishing touches to her prepared remarks for the First Reading (the first step required to pass a new law, in which she would explain the need for and purpose of her proposal).

The First Reading was right now though purely hypothetical as she hadn't yet managed to figure out a way to get a slot on the legislative programme of the Wizengamot without Macnair. Proposed legislation requires a sponsor from a member of the Wizengamot or a Ministry Department Head.

After crossing her last 't', Hermione cleaned the nib of her quill and set it aside. It was time to get down to the business of finding a friendly sponsor for her bill. Without Macnair, Ministry Department Heads were out, as they were only allowed to present legislation that pertained to their field. She couldn't, for example, simply ask Arthur Weasley (Head of the Department for the Detection, Confiscation, and Conservation of Innappropriately or Malevolently Enchanted Muggle Artifacts) for sponsorship. Kingley was also a non-option. As the Minister of Magic he presided over the Wizengamot, but was required to be a neutral party until voting and could not propose items to the schedule. She'd need a member of the Wizengamot.

There were approximately fifty members to choose from, so surely she'd be able to find a sympathetic ear among them. Hermione pulled out the folder that stored the full list of members and individual dossiers that she'd been compiling. From the summary list, replete with annotations:

Norman Abbott (great-grandfather of Hannah Abbott)

Gwendoline Avery (wife of Hamish Avery, Death Eather in Azkaban)

Wilfred Bulstrode (father of Millicent Bulstrode, married a half-blood, liberal??)

Herbert Burke (Death Eater?)

Marshall Fawley (???)

Marcus Flint (played on the Slytherin quidditch team with Malfoy)

Barnaby Greengrass (father of Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, friends with Pansy)

Augusta Longbottom (Neville's grandmother)

Ernest Macmillan Sr. (Ernie's dad)

Charlotte Rosier (widow of Evan Rosier, Death Eater)

Aariz Shafiq (???)

Solange Selwyn (wife of Niall Selwyn, Death Eater in Azkaban)

Basil Slughorn (brother of Professor Slughorn)

Rafferty Travers (uncle of Tarquin Travers, Death Eater in Azkaban)

Corban Yaxley (Death Eater!!)

These were the representatives of the most powerful and long-standing pureblood families in Britain, members of the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight. Fifteen families that had come out on the other side of the war with surviving, non-criminal descendants. Some were the unconvicted wives of deceased or incarcerated Death Eaters (Gwendoline Avery, Charlotte Rosier, and Solange Selwyn), while others (Burke and Yaxley) Hermione suspected had escaped sentencing by virtue of their coffers and connections the way Macnair had.

Seven of the original Sacred families had already experienced line extinction and had no one left to serve (the Black, Carrow, Crouch, Gaunt, Lestrange, Prewitt, and Rowle families), and a further four (the Malfoys, Notts, Ollivanders, and Parkinsons) left their seat voluntarily empty for various reasons. The Shacklebolt seat was also presently vacant while Kingsley served as Minister, and the Weasley seat had been eliminated following some dispute in the 1600s and never restored.

There were some other less prominent pureblood and half-blood names on the Wizengamot as well of course, thirty-three additional names in fact, but Hermione only recognized a handful of them. There were no muggle-borns.

Staring at this list and occassionally flipping through her dossiers, Hermione circled several names and began the arduous process of force-ranking prospects. Loathe though she was to admit it, she knew that it would be advantageous to have a pureblood sponsor, ideally one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. These things mattered to ensure she would be placed high enough on the agenda for the Wizengamot to actually review her proposal. She'd seen laws with less favorable sponsorship languish for months, if not years, under the excuse that they'd simply run out of time. It was a distasteful political game, but one she needed to learn how to play.

Her goal was to begin scheduling meetings to find a sponsor starting this week. She'd have to be discrete with who she approached though. She was certain that if Macnair got wind of what she was planning he wouldn't be pleased.

A knock at Hermione's office door broke her concentration. Melinda's voice followed, "Time for the staff meeting, Hermione!"

Sure enough, Hermione peered at the clock and saw that it was nearly 9:30. Every Monday, the entire Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures met in Conference Room Three to discuss priorities for the coming week and review the previous week's progress. She gathered her supplies quickly and joined Melinda in the hall, thanking her for the reminder and exchanging polite small talk during the short jaunt to the conference room.

When they entered, she saw that her peers from the Veela Bureau and the Werewolf Committee, Amélie Boulud and Franz Kester, were already seated and chatting amiably. She settled in next to them as the managers of the Pest Advisory Board and the Dragon Research and Restraint Unit filed in together, and behind them the Director of the Beasts and Beings Branch, Albert Zhou.

Beasts and Beings used to be separate branches, but there had been no small number of controveries over how creatures like Werewolves should be classified as they shared characteristics of both designations. The merger neatly solved for that dilemma. Director Zhou was technically Hermione's supervisor under this new hierarchy, but he was chronically overwhelmed with eleven groups reporting into him, so he rarely had time for her. Sure enough, the second he sat down, the managers for the liaison offices for goblins and centaurs began to accost him with their greivances.

No surprise there - those two offices were the largest within the entire Beasts and Beings Branch, with ten dedicated analysts apiece, and they were all kept busy with the steady stream of disagreements and requests from their constituent populations. It was challenging to keep goblins and centaurs from bloodshed with wizardkind.

At the back of the room, Hermione spied the Director of the Spirits Branch and the leaders from the Ghoul Task Force and the Haunting Complaints Board. They were all three of them fast asleep (she could tell by the light snoring), but had spelled their eyes to remain open and eerily unblinking. It was no loss, they rarely had work worth knowing about anyhow.

Finally, Walden Macnair and his successor in the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, Cyprian Snyde, walked in with their heads together and speaking in hushed tones. Trailing behind them was a dark-skinned muscular woman, tall on her own but achieving extra height with her afro hair. Hermione didn't recognize her, but the meeting was now being called to attention so she'd have to wait to find out her identity.

"Before we do our usual around the horn update from each office, there's been a high profile incident that requires our attention," Macnair began. Hermione's heart sank. Incident was usually code for a creature attack. She could see by the poorly hidden cheer on Macnair's visage that this would mean that Snyde's axe would be coming down over some poor creature's neck soon. "A mermaid drowned a muggle vacationer off the coast of Sandbanks in Dorset. Does anyone here speak Mermish?"

A chorus of mutterings circled the room, but no one raised their hand. There wasn't an office dedicated to liaising with merpeople like there was for goblins and centaurs. This left the population intensely vulnerable (in Hermione's opinion) compounded by their inability to communicate with wizards in English or any other language. The structure of their vocal chords and gills made it impossible for merpeople to form human sounds. It was one of several oversights she'd complained to Kingsley about when he was helping her find her place in the DRCMC, but he'd told her to pick her battles.

"Most unfortunate," Macnair continued in an oily voice. "Snyde, we'll just have to dispatch you solo to deal with the beast responsible to the best of your ability." Snyde grinned wickedly. That mermaid was a goner, unless maybe Hermione could...

"Perhaps we could hire a freelancer who speaks Mermish to assist with the investigation," Hermione blurted out. Her mouth had definitely not consulted her brain before speaking since her brain was currently internally screaming about what a bad idea it would be to attract any more negative attention from Macnair.

"Are you volunteering to use funds from your division's budget to cover the professional fees incurred for such a request?" Macnair's thin, black mustache twitched as though he were stifling laughter. It was funny to him that Hermione was attempting to fight him.

Her shoulders drooped. "No, I don't have any surplus this month," she admitted. "Does the mermaid have to be executed though? Could she be moved to a less populated area?" It was a terrible idea, to separate a sentient being from her family without being able to communicate why, but Hermione couldn't think of anything better in the pressure of the moment. For better or worse though, Macnair shot down this suggestion as well.

"The muggle victim was a Russian oligarch's son. In this case, the Russian Ministry of Magic is demanding blood for blood. It's out of my hands, Miss Granger." Hermione doubted that Macnair had no say in the final decision, but could think of nothing else to prevent the inevitable, so she capitulated with a nod.

"Unless there are any further concerns, I'd like to introduce Miss Bakersfield from the Office of Misinformation." That answered Hermione's unspoken question of who the mystery Amazonian woman was. "She is on loan with us today to help us create signage for areas with high potential for muggle interactions with magical beasts to prevent such... regrettable accidents from occurring in the future. She'll be stationed in this conference room for the remainder of the day. If your office deals with beasts or beings with a classification XXXX or higher on the official Ministry scale you must meet with her to share habitat and territory maps and collaborate on appropriate signage and other muggle deterrents. Any questions?"

Again, no one raised their hand, although the managers of the Flying Creatures, Land Dwelling Creatures, and Aquatic and Marine Creatures Divisions all groaned. They would each have several XXXX and XXXXX beasts and beings under their purview and likely a long day ahead.

From there, the meeting ran smoothly, with each leader providing a brief update of their team's tasks. Hermione spoke only of the house-elf births and deaths she'd recorded in the last week and the re-homing she would be working on this week for the elf whose Master had passed away without an heir. Despite the fact that she had battled to see the name of her division changed from House-Elf Relocation to House-Elf Liberation, these were still her primary duties.

Hermione hadn't given up though. After the meeting adjourned, she went straight back to her desk to continue her clandestine work on finding a sponsor for the HELP Act. She would advance the rights of house-elves or die trying.

Two floors above, in the Deparment of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry was fetching his third coffee of the morning. This had been his daily habit for weeks, as his life had become steadily more insomnia-inducing. Had he really once thought that simply getting rid of Tom Riddle would solve the world's problems? Fate loved to laugh in his face any time he dared to dream of peace.

To begin with, the investigation into Ron's murder was going nowhere. They knew who did it of course, but that brought them no closer to figuring out a way to safely locate and detain Fenrir Greyback. He remained a fugitive of the law and had the help of the notoriously crafty Antonin Dolohov to evade the aurors.

And while Harry was struggling with ambiguous feelings about his former friend's death after Hermione's revelations about the depths of douchebaggery he had reached, he was also trying his best to support Ginny. The whole Weasley family was heartbroken of course, but Ginny especially was finding it difficult to recover. She had taken a leave of absense from her quidditch team and now spent nearly all of her time locked in random rooms at Grimmauld Place. She always put up a silencing charm, but Harry knew she spent that time crying. His offers to draw her baths or cook her favorite meals were met with indifferent shrugs.

Then there were the two attempts on Hermione's life in as many months. They weren't sure if Greyback had really been in the area around the Parkinson estate the night of the New Year's Eve party, so Harry had thought the anonymous tipster was mistaken, but there had been a very real, very deadly bomb under Hermione's bed after the second tip, so that hope was dashed.

This afternoon they would be assembling a 'Hermione Granger Protection Unit' (which he knew Hermione would hate) to discuss the best ways to ensure her well-being until Greyback and Dolohov could be brought to justice. Harry had been forced to recuse himself from that unit in addition to Ron's investigation, but at least he would be allowed to serve in an advisor capacity (a sort of Hermione-whisperer) on the HGPU. Also, Tonks was leading it, so he felt that Hermione was in capable and trustworthy hands.

Before he could prep for that meeting though, he needed to get through his eleven o'clock, which was the monthly check-in with Malfoy. He'd either become desensitized to Malfoy's sarcasm or else they'd actually begun to tolerate each other, but either way he no longer dreaded these visits. They usually took a bit of time before he administered the veritaserum to catch up and shoot the breeze. Last month, for instance, Harry had learned that Malfoy had also studied occlumency under Snape's tutelage (with much greater success, it seemed), and they'd commiserated over what an unforgiving teacher Snape had been.

Today, however, Harry had a personal agenda for their opening small talk. He wanted to know why Hermione had been crying Saturday night. He'd asked Hermione herself, but gotten vague non-answers like she'd just had too much to drink, or she was being overly sensitive and not to worry. But of course Harry was going to worry! He knew that Malfoy had been out with Hermione, Pansy, and Theo that night, so he should know what happened. And so help him... if Malfoy was the root cause of even one of Hermione's tears, Harry would find a way to send him back to Azkaban.

"Potter," the object of Harry's vengeful ruminations greeted him as he took his regular seat. "You're looking like shite."

"I haven't slept much since we found that bomb," Harry grumbled. Nice of Malfoy to notice. "Are you going to tell me why Hermione was crying this weekend or am I going to have to ask you again under veritaserum?"

"No need to get nasty. And if you're thinking I made her cry you can put your fangs away. It was Theo."

"Theo?" Somehow Harry hadn't considered Theo a possible culprit. Of the three Slytherins he seemed the most even-tempered, certainly the one with the most social grace.

"To be fair, he wasn't being intentionally cruel. He was just drunk, and honestly even when he's sober he can be a habitual line-stepper."

"What did he do?"

"He stole Granger's cellphone and texted her boyfriend some stuff meant to help put him in the mood if you catch my drift."

"Are you serious??"

"Unfortunately... again, out of loyalty to my long friendship with Theo I feel obliged to point out that Granger had mentioned having difficulties in that arena so Theo thought he was helping. He's apologized."

"Oh, he's apologized, has he?" Harry scoffed, hands clenched with rage. Malfoy had no idea what Theo had done, the severity of his transgression. Harry knew. He knew how stressful it had been for Hermione to begin dating again in the first place. He knew why she was having trouble getting in the mood with her boyfriend. And he could fucking guess how being forced to confront this topic would make her feel.

But Harry set his fury aside. Now that he'd ascertained that he didn't need to seek retribution against the man in front of him, he could be professional for another hour until his lunch break. Then he could revisit his options.

"All right, let's get through your check-in then. Bottoms up, Malfoy," Harry slapped the potion vial on the table with a little more force than necessary. The glass splintered with hairline fractures but luckily didn't shatter. The display of emotion seemed to alarm Malfoy though.

"Er, Potter, Theo's not so bad really. I've already told him not to go near Granger again without her permission."

"That's not good enough," Harry ground his teeth, "If Hermione were your sister, what would you do?"

"Yeah, I mean if she were my sister I'd probably punch Theo in the face..." Malfoy quickly realized he was giving Harry ideas though and hastened to amend, "but I reckon he's learned his lesson. Pansy and I both gave him a verbal lashing. No need for further violence."

"Just take the potion, Malfoy, I've got a long day ahead of me."

Malfoy hesitated a few seconds more looking as though he had more to say in defense of Theo, but ultimately swallowed the dose of veritaserum. They ran through the first nine questions at speed until they got to the dreaded tenth question: "How have you changed since your last check-in?"

They hadn't yet had a check-in where Malfoy had escaped from this question without revealing something unintentional and embarrassing, and today was no exception.

"I was dumped by my girlfriend." Malfoy was stunned into non-reaction, seemingly in disbelief that his mouth would betray him so thoroughly.

"Fuck, sorry, Malfoy. Why'd she dump you?" Harry asked before he realized that Malfoy would be compelled to answer, but he couldn't take it back.

"She wanted to spend Valentine's Day with me and I couldn't explain to her that I had to be here instead. She's a muggle."

The fact that Draco Malfoy, card-carrying member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and former Death Eater, would deign to date a muggle rattled around Harry's skull for a few minutes before it could sink in. Malfoy. With a muggle. Malfoy. Kissing a muggle? Holding hands?? Harry couldn't picture it. He honestly didn't want to picture Malfoy like that with anyone, but now his brain was conjuring images...

"Can I go?" Malfoy sounded strangled.

"Yeah... um... and sorry about the unauthorized question... an accident... won't happen again," Harry monotoned absently still trying to understand the complex arithmancy it would take to bring Malfoy and a muggle together romantically.

Malfoy nodded in acceptance of his apology and flew from the room.

Theo swore as a spring broke free of the time-turner he'd been wrestling with for six bloody months. At least now he had his wand back and could accio the tiny pieces when they escaped rather than spend hours with a magnifying glass hunting them down. Snatching the coil out of the air as it came zooming towards him from wherever it had dropped behind the work bench, Theo resumed his hunched posture over the device.

Grimstone couldn't have set him a more complicated first task for his apprenticeship. He'd been expecting to start with something simple like an enchanted chalice, a bespelled ring, or maybe even a snitch, but no... Grimstone's philosophy is to throw you into the deep end right away. If you sink, he kicks you out, and if you swim... well, congratulations he'll keep you on until the next impossible task.

It didn't help that his mind was a useless blob of sludge today. He was distressed because Draco and Pansy were still mad at him, and Granger of course wasn't speaking to him either. Then he'd gone and had another vision last night, this time Seeing Granger take an avada to the chest before being cannibalized by Greyback, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He'd already established that the authorities wouldn't be heeding his warnings and Granger herself wanted nothing to do with him, so he could only hope that Draco was right and Granger's guardian angel would come out of the woodwork to save the day again.

To top it all off, he'd floo called Blaise yesterday to see if he was free for dinner and been turned down because apparently he now has a girlfriend?? As long as Theo had known him, Blaise had never had a girlfriend. One-night stands, yes. Serial hook-ups, also yes. But a girlfriend... Theo had felt the last whispers of delusion that one day Blaise would notice him shrivel and fade away.

It was a lot to digest and frankly none of it was conducive to the appropriate mental state necessary for time-turner diagnostics and repair. He wondered if it was a bad sign that he hadn't been visited by himself from the future reassuring him that he would succeed. He'd do that, right? Well, maybe not. It was a well known rule of time travel not to be perceived by your past self. Even he wasn't reckless enough to risk erasing his own existence for a little peace of mind.

This metaphysical train of thought was interrupted by a tapping against the window above his work area. Theo looked up and saw Draco's eagle owl, Ulysses, scratching at the glass pane for entry. He opened the window to admit him and unfurled the scroll attached to his right foot to read a short missive: "Look out for Potter. He's angry about the Granger thing."

Fuck.

Theo looked at the clock. It was just past noon. He could run home and barricade himself in his house during his lunch break and then send a message to Grimstone that he'd gotten food poisoning, maybe lay low for a few days while Potter cooled off.

The bell above the shop door rang out. Damn, a customer. He'd apparate home right after dealing with them. He hated customer service small talk, it was his least favorite part of the job. Begrudgingly, Theo yanked off his apron and emerged from the private side of the workshop into the retail area.

"Welcome to Grimstone's, how can I--"

Theo's greeting was interrupted by a vicious punch to the face. Stars burst behind his eyes and his hands instinctively jumped to his nose to stymie the blood gushing from it.

"Stay away from Hermione," the cold voice of the Chosen One was dripping with venom, but he didn't stick around to deal more damage. Theo heard the bell chime again indicating he'd left the store as quickly as he'd come.

"Ye all righ', lad?" Grimstone had come down from his living space above the store and found Theo dripping blood all over his shop floor. "Ge' yerself home an I'll take care o' the rest today. Go on now." His boss was a sadist with his work assignments, but at least had the kindness to recognize a man in need. Theo needed a lot at the moment: a good night's sleep, a cure for his broken heart, and possibly a passport to leave the country if this was just Harry Potter getting warmed up.

For now though, he'd settle for some gauze.

A/N: Phew! Longest chapter yet at about 6200 words! Did I get too carried away with the details about the inner workings of the Wizengamot and the DRCMC? I'm having fun making up lots of stuff about how legislation gets passed in the magical world, but I hope it's not boring to read. I'm also having fun tormeting Theo. Poor guy... it'll turn around for him soon. Oh, and one of my reviewers was wondering who the mystery resurrection was going to be since I mentioned it in an A/N a few chapters back, and now you have your answer: it's Tonks! I know I only mentioned her in passing in this chapter, but she'll have speaking lines going forward.