AN: Remember how the last chapter was too short? This will make up for it...

D: I have included some of the original text in this chapter from HBP. Done for sake of story, I don't own the words.

Falling Slowly

Their car came to a stop a short while after they had left the Burrow. Hermione had always wondered what sort of charm the Ministry had on the car to where it could travel from Devon to London in less than twenty minutes. With the four of them crammed into the back seat, even with an extendable charm, she was all to happy to hear their driver ask Mr. Weasley, "How long are you going to be?"

"A couple hours," Mr. Weasley answered, stepping out of the door and opening it for Mrs. Weasley first, and then the back one for the rest of them. "We'll be out of the Alley around six at the very latest."

From the outside, the Leaky Cauldron didn't look anymore rundown than it always had. Black paint chipping over weathered wood and a cauldron sign swinging in the wind haphazardly, as though all it would take was a good strong gust and it would come crashing down on some passerby. She had always supposed that was one of things that made people look a way. That and the boarded windows. When Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies professor and the Muggleborns shopping escort had taken the Grangers to London to assist with her school shopping that first year, she had been rather disappointed with what she was looking at. The entire drive from Essex, Professor Burbage had told them of the magic and excitement that was Diagon Alley. When they had arrived on Charing Cross Road in the heart of central London, she was even more excited at the sight of several book stores with brightly done windows, colorful trims, complete with throngs of shoppers. But instead Professor Burbage paid the meter in front of the haphazard cauldron at a pub her parents would never step in, let alone one with their daughter.

But when they went in for the first time, it was nothing like the outside. It was as though she had been swept into a fairy tale. The pub was full of light coming from windows on the opposite wall. Three older witches sat at the table gabbing over their drinks as three sets of knitting needles busied themselves. An older wizard, probably close to her dad's age, was playing a musical instrument she hadn't seen before or since. Professor Burbage had to go in front of them, trying to make a way to the alley's gate. Tom, seeing the little family told her to stop and let them have a drink before they ventured in the alley. "Can't do some shopping without a spot of pumpkin juice can you?" he had said, winking at little Hermione who had never heard of such a drink. "Have a cup to go, look like it's their first year."

It wasn't that way now. Now, the inside matched the outside perfectly. It was an empty shell of what it used to be.

"Hello Tom," Mr Weasley called as they turned the door and filed on thru. There was no music. There was no one in the bar except for Tom who looked like he was sweeping the floors to keep himself from sleeping, "We'll have something on our way out," Mr Weasley explained, tapping the bar as he strode to the back entrance. Tom nodded and had six glasses zoom off the shelf and into hot water, as though to give him something else to do to pass the time before he could tend customers.

Hagrid had met them next, just as last time. He tapped the bricks with his pink umbrella, and the little company followed through the bricks and into the somber alley.

"Hell's empty and her devils are here," she muttered to herself, looking at the missing papers, the closed banner hammered into the board covering a broken window at Fortescues. She noticed how Mrs Weasley was walking closer to Ginny while Mr. Weasley eyed the three of them walking up around Hagrid.

After successfully dodging the merchants trying to sell amulets and good luck charms, it was decided they should split up and be more efficient in their time, for the sake of the driver. Mrs. Weasley also had hesitations about traveling after sunset, so that bumped the return trip ever closer. Hermione had forgot how no one made eye contact anymore. How they stayed in their little groups and spoke in whispers, as though a loud voice could summon a Death Eater. She decided the four of them were probably the loudest ones in the alley, like chatty mourners at a wake.

"Migh' be a bit of squeeze in there with all of us" Hagrid said looking at the small shop, "I'll stand guard outside, all right'?"

They had only gotten through the door when they realized the stillness of the alley didn't match the shop. Harry's ears seemed to perk up as Draco Malfoy argued with his mother over treating him as a child and they followed the voice around the rack.

Malfoy's face twisted as he saw the three in the mirror, "If you're wonder what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in."

The scene was playing out so much like Hermione had remembered. Narcissa was playing the role of a single parent this year in the shopping, with Lucius imprisoned in Azkaban. Malfoy was being sensitive about his left sleeve, irritable as ever. Hermione paid special notice to watching Harry's face and knew that he was forming his suspicion that would carry on for the rest of the year. He wasn't far off, she knew Malfoy was working on Voldemort's orders, but she knew that Malfoy was never given the Dark Mark nor would he ever.

Following the war, Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy had all been brought before a branch of the Wizengamot, known as the Coalition for Truth and Reconciliation. It became a show in the papers, Rita Skeeter hadn't gone thru as many magical quills since the first war came to an end. Death Eaters that were rounded up were given the opportunity to confess to any and all crimes they had committed under allegiance to Voldemort. While some were destined for Azkaban regardless of what they said, sentencing would be kinder should they confess, the possibility of parole, visitation etc. It was only after the smoke had cleared and the bodies had been buried that the total human cost of the war was realized and that more were missing than previously assumed. Kingsley wanted help finding those bodies, and families wanted to know what had happened to those who never came home.

In the Wizengamot vs. the Malfoy's, it was learned how long crimes had been committed. Lucius admitted to jointing the Death Eaters a few years following graduation from Hogwarts, in 1975 after he and Narcissa had married. Back then, he was a self-called "Gentleman Death Eater" who assumed that he would take an active role in Ministry Leadership once the Dark Lord had taken hold of the country. He hadn't become a killer until the 1979 murders of Eloise MacGregor, Muggleborn Rights advocate. He admitted to playing a role in the McKinnon Murders in 1981, as well as being present in the final moments of Benjy Fenwick's murder. But he wouldn't be prosecuted for that; as he had already been tried for those charges after the end of the first war in a 1981 tribunal. What he had done since, the handing off of Tom Riddle's Diary to Ginny Weasley, the murder of Sirius Black and attempted murder of Harry in 1995 wasn't new news either, as that was what he was charged and sent to Azkaban for prior to his escape. Both Narcissa and Draco testified for their actions since Lucius imprisonment, including the unbreakable vow made between Snape for Draco's survival, as well as the plot and murder of Albus Dumbledore.

But it was what happened after that had drawn the attention of the court. Lucius having to surrender his wand to Voldemort. Narcissa and Draco spending the summer in their home as prisoners. The threats of leaving Draco exposed for an attack from Greyback. The Carrows threats and torture to Draco for failing to torture a muggleborn third year whom had been hiding under a half-blood alias. Christmas holiday where Lucius and Narcissa were again threatened with Draco's death if the Dark Lord did not find them loyal. Draco being threatened with carrying out his own parent's execution should he not do as he was told. The Easter Holiday when Harry, Ron and Hermione had been brought to the Manor and Hermione's torture under Aunt Bellatrix. That had launched weeks of press in and of itself.

Once those called to court testified, there were a few hours given to those who had sat thru the tribunal to give character witnesses and personal testimony of the defendants. Their trial occurred during the start of term once she had gone back. She had gotten permission from McGonagall to attend. While both her and Harry had gone in the defense of the Malfoys. Ron hadn't come. He had said that even if he did think the Malfoy's should be given a second chance, it wouldn't seem genuine. It was well known through the wizarding community the tension between the Weasleys and Malfoys, and the Weasley family had emerged from the war as a family of heroes, not liars.

Hermione testified that Draco did not reveal Harry's identity when snatchers brought them to the Manor. Harry had spoke in favor of Narcissa, who once Voldemort's killing curse had failed for a second time, had lied, keeping him alive to face him in the final battle. Harry went further, arguing that both Narcissa and Lucius spent the last hours of the battle looking for Draco, not killing for Voldemort. The fact that there were numerous testimonies of the family changing allegiance during the Battle of Hogwarts had ultimately been the saving grace. All three Malfoys had returned to Whitehall that night, although Lucius was to follow up with a Ministry appointed probation officer and begin participating in muggleborn education and charitable causes.

"Have you become a stupid Mudblood this year Granger or is this some passive aggressive silent treatment?" Draco asked, sneering at her as Madam Malkin bit her lip and turned a deeper shade of red "If it is, I'm glad. Silence suits you well."

He must have tried insulting me while I was thinking of how I saved his sorry— "Put your wands down, he's not worth it," Hermione said, pulling at Ron's elbow. Had he stood in front of her defensive last time as he did now? Why couldn't she remember?

Narcissa walked over, 'Yes, wands away." She looked over at Harry especially, "Your friendship with Dumbledore has given you a false air of confidence. You should fix that. After all, the day may come when Dumbledore might not always be here to save you Mr Potter."

Harry looked around the room annoyed, "Don't see him in this store. Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

Madam Malkin dropped her pin cushion and looked at Harry, "Really—watch your—dangerous thing to say—wands away, please."

"Harry " Hermione sighed, pulling his arm back too, "Come on, lets just wait till their gone—"

"No need to wait, we're leaving" Malfoy said, "Mother, I don't want these robes anymore. Not with this sort around."

"Quite right," Narcissa glanced, looking now at Hermione. She had the same shape eyes as her sister. It was though her neck was burning again from where she cut her. "Now I know the kind of scum that shops here… we'll be better off at Twilfitt and Tatting's up the street."

Draco ripped of his robes sending a shower of silver pins to the floor as Madam Malkin looked on in silent rage. The Malfoys had disappeared and headed up the street when she finally turned to the three of them, sizing them up. "You boys need new robes, and you?" she asked Hermione as a tape measure went to work on the boys.

"Dress robes," she nodded, "something blue?" Madam Malkin nodded and flicked her wand as bolts of cloth flew from the wall and began to surround the three of them. Harry and Ron's had emerged from their dressing room wearing the same style cloth, the kind you'd need for the school while Hermione's came out of hers in a soft, navy silk, that just skimmed her ankles.

"Any occasion in mind dear?" she asked, a tape measurer tickling Hermione's arm. Last go around, Hermione had gotten a scarlet set, settling on that after Madam Malkin tried selling her wizard's robes instead. They were far too formal for the Slug Club Christmas Party and she had left them in Ginny's closet when they had gone on the run. She had to wear one of her dresses her Mum had sent her from Essex.

"A Christmas Party," Hermione told the multitasking witch, the fabric for Ron and Harry's robes already being cut and sewn on by the instruments. "Nothing fancy. It's no Yule Ball, but something nice." She wanted to say something that would make Ron jealous that he was with Lavender and not her, but given the company in the room she didn't want to supplant any idea. Madam nodded and after Hermione had selected the fabric stepped aside to roll up the sleeves for Ron and Harry.

She emerged in the loosely sewn together dress, standing on a pedestal as one of Madam's seamstresses came over to help with the fitting and customization. In full honesty, this was ridiculous. She should be getting nice black dress robes for all the funerals she would attend. That was a regret she had. She had to borrow mourning robes from Ginny who hardly had any of her own. Instead, she was wasting money that could be used for preparation of next year. The robes would be at least seven galleons. That was at least thirty-five pounds. She could make a warm stew for that much and have enough left over for other odds and ends on the road. She could even give that money to Neville or Ginny, someone who was staying at Hogwarts and use it to help people. But instead she was using it on a dress she'd maybe where twice.

"Is something the matter dear?" Malkin's assistant asked, pinning up the hem.

"Just thinking, that's all," she sighed, looking at her reflection. She'd get these, but she needed to get Bill to get her money out of Gringotts soon. She needed to start preparing now for what laid ahead. Perhaps she was on to something with having some of the gold go to those they'd leave behind.

But for the slightest moment, she was pulled from the pratical path to her present where she could have sworn she saw Ron, looking at her thru the mirrors that lined the shop. It was a different look than he'd normally would, she had only become familiar with that in her recent past.

Maybe the dress wouldn't be a waste after all.

((*))

"Did you see where Malfoy went Hagrid?" Harry asked, following the party down the alleyway to number ninth-three. He hadn't yet shaken the thought of seeing Draco hesitancy towards his left arm. He knew just as well as anyone what was usually on a Death Eater's arm but she knew, having sat thru that tribunal, that Draco did not have the dark mark. But she could hardly tell Harry that.

"Don't worry about them Harry," Hagrid promised, "Wouldn't do them any good to stir trouble around here now people know wha' they've done."

"Would've been nice they known that a few years ago," Ron muttered under his breath. She walked on without comment, his look at the shop still in her head like a catchy song, "I think they've always known, it's just now that the Ministry's actually locked him away that they're acting on it."

He was about to say something when the reached the bright, vivid store that made the rest of the alley look like a faded black and white picture in comparison. Purple and Orange from top to bottom, the store looked like the irreverent guest at a funeral. Hermione saw the Purple banners and "U-no-Poo!" inblazzed and smiled as she saw Mrs. Weasley's face drop, "Wicked," Ron muttered as she ran into the shop, Ginny not far behind her.

The shop was filled to the brim with people. It was as though everyone who had come to Diagon Alley today had come simply for the shop. The Skiving Snakes, she noted, where selling rather well, the crumbled box of a Nosebleed Nougat suggesting to her that there was going to be more than one student trying to leave class early this term. She had taken points in the beginning when students did this, but she couldn't keep track of them all and slowly let it all go by the way side. She was a Prefect, but she wasn't wearing her badge quite yet.

She crowd was good at churning her farther up and farther in. She lost her balance as she got to the Teen Witch area near the counter, she caught herself on a small pink box, nearly falling into the Whizbangs. Steading herself, she looked in her hand at a handsome sailor, a young girl in arm, standing atop a boat deck. Her cheeks were turning red, as she glimpsed over the description of the thirty-minute daydream. She looked at the cover again and the sailor's hair was now turning a familiar shade of red and the girls face starting to reflect her own. She put it back quickly, adding another one in front of it for good measure.

"You know," she started, turning to Harry who had made it toward the front with her, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione," a familiar voice sounded behind them, "you can have one for free."

There, standing in his vivid magenta robes beamed Fred, winking at Hermione and tossing her another box from the display case. "Good to see you two again, it's been so long, at least twelve hours," he chuckled and then looked at Hermione. "You're eyes looking better than yesterday, back to their beautiful brown selves."

She rolled her eyes, "As we just ran into Malfoy. Thank you for fixing my eye last night. He'd probably tried sending you flowers if he'd seen me that way."

"Git," Fred muttered, "Was in here not even twenty minutes ago looking at the Peruvian Powder. Then he just turned around and walked out. I was looking forward to saying we didn't serve the likes of him when he got to the register."

Harry laughed and Hermione flinched, "You wouldn't."

"His dad almost had us lose Ginny. I would and I will if I see the likes of him in here again. But enough of that," he turned to his side, "Come on, I'll give you two the VIP tour. Where's Ron?"

"He's trying to keep Ginny away from the love potions," Hermione sighed, trying to hide her amusement as both Fred and Harry looked at her wearily. "Come on, am I going to have to give myself a tour of the shop?"

She had a bounce in her step as she pushed the two of them along. She hadn't gotten to do this last time. Last time she had found the bathroom and spent a half hour or so trying to clear up her eye. Verity had let her sit in the back once a line started and she began analyzing the paste the brothers had made. But this time she got to see more of the shop than she had before.

There was a corner for the muggle gifts and jokes she had grown up with. Fake wands, decks of cards, bowlers that she could only imagine a rabbit called home. George was now shaking Harry's hand and calling out a threat to a small boy who was looking a little closely at the Edible Dark marks. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "Miss Granger, coming to see what the next generation of pranksters are going to be working with?"

"Field research," Hermione laughed, following the group through a curtain towards the back of the warehouse. George was explaining to Harry the Shield Line that they had developed and was being marketed to the Ministry when Hermione felt a hand pull her own to the side towards the work room.

She had half a mind to whip out her wand, trace be damned, and hex who ever was pulling her away. And then she saw who was the freckle faced owner and she relaxed. It was only Fred.

"George will finish up the tour for Harry, but I wanted to give you the book," he explained as they walked through the small hallway to the back workroom, dropping her hand as he opened the door.

After the war, in the summer that stretched on far too long, Hermione had spent the few weeks proceeding school helping Ron get George and the shop back on their feet. In full honesty, it was a miracle they had everything up as quick as they did for the post-war Back to School rush. Verity had been a lifesaver, having taken a lot of the merchandise and put it in hiding when the twins had abandoned the shop that spring.

Hermione was familiar with the back area as it was after the war. The workshop where there was always cauldrons boiling and small explosions going off. Next to George's desk was a large book where the twin kept their financial record. Kitty corner to George's desk was Freds. Standing where she was in 1996 she could see that George had left the desk identical to how it had been in the time of its former master. Papers scattered and stacked everywhere in an unboxed chaos that only Fred Weasley could make sense of. The desk drawer on the left was jammed, and as far as she had known they had never been able to get it to open since Fred's death.

He walked over to his desk and opened a cupboard with his wand. "George and I have our own private projects, " he explained, nodding his head over, "It's usually just stuff that we're tweaking before we let the other see. It was George's idea for the shielding line. He's a bit more practical than me."

"Just be careful with that Instant Powder," Hermione said, in what she hoped was a joking voice, "Wouldn't want someone to use that for a bad reason."

He brushed it off, "You worry too much Granger," he said as he pulled out a stack of books. "Which is why you're turning to me for a prank. Cause you're worried the boys will find out your secrets."

"Maybe I don't want them to know who I'm dreaming about?" she said firmly, looking at the product that was still in her hands.

"Oh trust me, I bet all of Gryffindor house knows," he laughed under his breath, stopping himself after a moment. "Well, maybe not all. I'm pretty sure Ron's out of the loop."

She stared at him for a moment confused. What was he trying to say—that she and—

"You think Ron and I—" she couldn't finish. She wouldn't. It would alter far too much. If the whole bloody house knew, why the ruddy hell—"I don't think so Fred" she said evenly, trying her hardest to keep her cheeks from turning the color of his hair. "I've got five years of friendship under my belt telling me that he isn't the romantic kind."

He looked at her for a moment and Hermione felt like she was back at Madam Malkins in her dress robes. "What are you thinking?" she asked, lining up toe and toe with him.

"I'm not," he said, shaking his head and turning to the cabinet to lock it.

"Fat chance I believe that, the mind that built this store, not thinking?" she whistled, "You're going to have to do better then that."

He looked at her this time, the previous look replaced with one of mischief. His eyebrow raised, "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I'm not," she said through a toothy smile and she couldn't fight the laugh that tickled her throat.

"Whatever you say Hermione," he responded, setting the books in front of her, scratching the back of his neck. "So I place those charms and counter jinxes on these last night. You'll be able to write in them with any ink, As soon as you close the book, the words disappear. If you need to bring them back or see what you've written, just write a "I Solemnly Swear" in the upper right of the first page."

She smiled, "You're quite the original thinker with your phrases aren't you? Don't you think Harry would try that though?

"Nah, Harry wouldn't try that hard. Besides, it's a beta copy," he smirked, "You use this one for a term, let me know what suggestions you have and I'll give you a new one at Christmas time. You'll be able to pick out the catch phrase for that one. Does that work?"

She nodded, picking up the book that had the worn leather cover and yellowing pages, "Sounds like a deal."

Holding the book tight, the stood in front of each other. If he hadn't just suggested her and Ron getting together, she'd almost describe it as standing in comfortable silence. This wasn't uncomfortable, it wasn't forced either. She stroked the spine of the book and started, "You've done a good job here Fred," she looked up at his face, "And not just the book—this whole shop, its impressive. You've done a real good job."

"High praise coming from you Hermione," he said picking up the daydream box she had set down retrieving the book. "Come on, I'll get this bagged for you. Anything else you see in the store that you fancy?"

"I'd have to be here a week to get through it all," she answered, but then hesitated, "You don't have any time turner products do you?"

Fred started walking with her down the hallway again, "We haven't done time turners yet. Time magic is difficult, you usually don't see it in joke shops. It'd be more of a specialty store. Why?"

She looked down at her wrist that was still missing the bracelet she had once though had sent her here, "Just thinking that's all."

((*))

When Fred and Hermione had rejoined Harry and Ron on the floor, Harry was trying to find a way to escape back to the alley to track Malfoy who had recently passed by. After giving the remaining Weasley's the slip, the trio snuck past a humming Hagrid under the invisibility cloak, not hearing their feet on the cobblestone with all the chatter coming from the floor and humming.

Last time she had followed Harry's hunches on where to turn and what to look for but this time she they go to Knockturn alley the saw Malfoy disappear into Borgin's. "What do you think they're saying?" Hermione asked. Ron dropped his packages and retrieved a set of expendable ears, "There, this should be able to answer your question.

They were watching the shop seeing where Draco was talking with Borgin. He had just threatened Borgin with whatever was on his arm, he was throwing out Greyback as a family friend. "He's showing him the Dark Mark!" Harry exclaimed squinting through his glasses as though if he did it a little bit more he'd see it. Harry and Ron were whispering to each other about what was transpiring in there she couldn't hear for herself. But she knew what was being said. He was asking about the Cabinet. She could take a gamble. Last go around she hadn't asked about the cabinet being for sale or on hold. But this time, what would change if she did?

Draco exited the building, proud of himself as ever, thinking that he had finally started connecting dots necessary for survival.

"You two stay here," Hermione said, freeing hereof from the cloak before anyone could argue against her.

She strolled into the store with the same false enthusiasm as before, "Hello, horrible morning isn't it?" she asked Borgin who looked suspicious and peeved, the last emotion most likely due to either Hermione or Malfoy, she wasn't quite sure. She hummed to herself, a catchy little muggle tune her Mum would play in the office for new patients. She looked at the necklace that would harm Katie. "Is this necklace for sale?" she asked, confidence brimming.

"If you have one and a half galleons," Borgin said coolly, still trying to size up this latest customer. "Ah, bit low. Back to school took a few galleons this year" She turned to the case closer to the till, "And how about this skull?"

"Sixteen galleons," Borgin reeled, "So it is on sale," Hermione grinned. "I know this is silly, but I have a friend that was in quite recently. I missed his Birthday this summer and I wanted to get him something to make up for it. Perhaps, something he's had his eye on for a while?" She set her hand against the cabinet, "He has been saying he wanted a closet to go under his stairs—"

"Out" Borgin ordered, his voice sharp, "Get out!"

Hermione gave a nod and headed out the door looking down the street where Draco had disappeared.

They ran into each other once their last year of school. Draco's mother had hoped he'd return to sit for his finals, but returned shorty after the trial had concluded. He'd sit for the N.E. with the rest of the class, but take correspondence courses until then.

She had been crossing the courtyard outside, rubble still being reconstructed into castle when she saw him stopped, looking at one particular pile. Someone had put a silver box on the pile, a fresh, Slytherin tie rolled up and sitting on the velvet. She looked at it perplexed and that's when she heard Draco speak to her. They had never been on talking terms. Not unless she had Harry and Ron behind her, or her own fist had an itching for old habits.

"A Slytherin died there, last May" he said evenly. "Oliver Basswood. Sixth year. He snuck back to the castle with Anna Denton after Filtch had escorted the Slytherins out. Anna was from Hufflepuff," he looked at her, "We used to give him a hard time, say it was a crush but—whatever it was, it's over now."

"What happened?" she asked, looking at the rubble and its lone memorial one last time. "He was dueling in the courtyard. His parents weren't dark wizards, none of the Death Eaters could care or tell if one of them was a Death Eater or a Brave New World—a whatever you are. But there was a blast. He must have seen the incantation before it happened. Because he got hit by the rubble. Not her. He pushed her out of the way."

The two stood their a little longer and then worn and heavy face of Draco Malfoy, so different than the one she had seen stride as his father before him down Knockturn alley.

But his voice lingered and she'd admit haunt her. Especially as gently muttered, " I guess every house has our own Fred Weasleys."

AN: Thus ends Chapter 7. Again, when I wrote this, I did include a bit of the original text in regards to conversation. A lot of its condensed, but its there. I felt it was kind of necessary for this to be a steady story. Also, I was looking through CH 6 and realized my doc program missed a lot of little errors. I am sorry about that. I've gone through this one with a fine tooth comb so we should hopefully be alright :)

Thank you for all the support. You guys amaze me with each chapter. Next week should find us on the Hogwarts Express and in Dumbledore's office, and someone else along the way...Until next week, ~KH