a/n1: Welcome back everyone! As predicted I had a very busy September (though I got to go to London, which was amazing) and October (uni starting up again...), but! My mental health has much improved over the last weeks, and while I have a few other stories to catch up on, I'm confident I'll be writing more. I wanted to thank everyone who reads, favourites, follows and especially reviews my story! You're amazing!
Much betalove to the lovely reynardinepttr :)
Enjoy!

13th June 1998, 10:49

To say that Draco was nervous would be the understatement of the century. Even antsy, distressed, jittery, overwrought and worried sick didn't seem to cut it. He was pacing in front of his bed.

Five steps to the wardrobe, five steps back to the nightstand. Five steps to. Five steps back. Five steps. Five…

Draco was so agitated in fact, that the candle on his nightstand had ignited and was flickering in an unfelt wind caused by Draco's magic breaking out and swirling around him. He longed to go out, to use the pent up energy, but the Manor had not yet been cleared for their use and his broom was there.

Finally he threw open the door and ran out into Andromeda's garden, his black robes swirling around him in a way that would make the late Professor Snape proud.

Outside he finally felt as if he could breathe again, his magic settling down to swirl more gently around him, still too agitated to fit beneath his skin.

He stood perfectly still, letting his mind wander as he watched the fields beyond the trees at the back of the property.

Hermione's parents were back. Hermione had gone on a date with him, kind of. But her parents were back. Surely she would remember now. Remember why she hated him so much. Reminded by them. She had to send them away because of the likes of him. Death Eater. Scum. Filth.

Draco carefully raised the wand the Ministry had supplied him with. He didn't deserve it. He may deserve the spells on it. Keeping him from casting Dark magic, keeping track of his every move. But he didn't deserve to have it at all.

He should rot in a cell in Azkaban. He had used Unforgivables. He had tortured, maimed, killed…Draco felt ill. But he still held himself completely still, no sign of his inner turmoil showing on his face.

He knew how to conceal his fear, knew how not to show a sign of emotion, even in front of the Dark Lord himself, or rather, especially.

His ear twitched when he heard the soft pop of Apparation on the other side of the house. A quick spell told him that Andromeda had returned from Grimmauld Place. She went inside. Draco decided that he couldn't stay here any longer. He needed to leave, immediately.

o0o

Draco reappeared with a snap on the cliffs close to their Scottish hunting lodge. The wind pulled at his robes, finding every opening and making Draco shiver violently.

But standing at the edge, hearing the waves crashing into the shore and feeling the wind pulling at his very essence, he finally let go.

All the pent up magic, the anguish, the sorrow and the self-hatred broke from him in a fractured cry. His legs gave out from under him and only the swirling magic kept him from toppling over the edge. He moaned and shivered as tears coursed down his face, his magic dancing with the wind whipping and ripping at him.

Any sense of time and space left him, too caught up in his own head. He saw the faces of all the students he had hurt, be it because of his own stupidity or at the command of others. It didn't matter. Longbottom was followed by Hermione, Abbot, Creevey, Finch-Fletchley, Potter, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione…

How could he hurt her? She'd done nothing! She only ever bested him in a few classes. What did Potter ever do to him but refuse his hand in friendship? Draco knew he had been a horrible little snob and even Theo had barely spoken to him the first weeks of first year.

For the first time since that horrible first night in the holding cells at the Ministry, Draco let himself think about Crabbe and Goyle - both dead because of him and the stupid war. They had never been the most intelligent or ambitious people, and Draco personally thought they would have been better off in Hufflepuff where they would have been supported instead of scorned. But did that mean they deserved death?

Or how about Marchand? The sixth year boy who had looked up to Professor Snape so much that he had joined the moment he turned seventeen. He was dead too, now. His family was under surveillance of the Ministry, if one could believe the Prophet, even though they themselves had been innocent.

Some days Draco truly hated his father for what he had done to him. For the way he raised him. He hated Thoros Nott for what he had done to Theo. But most of all he hated Snape for never trying to save any of them from themselves.

Sure, he had tried to help Draco in sixth year, but by then it was too late.

Draco huddled down, pulling his cloak around him and casting a small Bluebell Flame. He held the tiny flame gently in his hand, marvelling at its beauty.

Hermione loved these flames and cast them silently, without even her wand, like it was an afterthought. Hers were a deep periwinkle blue though, like the dress she had worn at the Yule Ball so many years ago. Merlin, he hadn't even recognised her at first. Too focussed on her bushy hair and the many books she always lugged around everywhere to remember her face. She had been very pretty that night, although Draco only recently admitted that to himself.

Careful not to disturb the flame, Draco put his right arm over his knees and rested his head on his forearm. His wand dangled from his fingers, sometimes emitting small blue flames.

Focussed on the flame in his left hand, Draco started the process of pulling his magic back under his skin. His mother had told him stories of people who went crazy because they didn't control their magic. But if the book Hermione had given him on ancient magic was right his mother's stories had been not quite true.

He hadn't asked Hermione for the book after he had accidentally bonded with Thomas, she had just arrived the next day with it in hand. Draco hadn't even thanked her properly, too distracted by the opportunity to ask her to the ice cream date.

But he had devoured the book, and then he had read it a second time to make sure he caught everything. The third time he had taken notes.

The book had talked about old forms of magic. It had centred on Indo-European forms, but had mentioned others in comparison. For example it explained that the Mesopotamian wizards and witches had preferred not to control their magic. Sadly that made them more volatile and prone to conflict, but they had also been extremely powerful and very accomplished animagi.

Draco had wanted to discuss the book with Hermione, but since they had been around muggles he hadn't dared to. And now…

Draco pulled himself away from that thought. He couldn't, wouldn't think about that. Not yet. It already hurt too much. He hoped sincerely that his mother wouldn't take it too badly when Hermione distanced herself from them. Even his father would be upset, if only because he had been relying on Hermione's knowledge about muggle science.

Closing his fist Draco extinguished the flame. He needed something to distract himself. Maybe Thomas would have time or at least an idea.

Draco rose and transfigured his robes into a muggle t-shirt, glad that he wore simple trousers under the traditional wizard's garment.

With a sharp crack he Disapparated from the Scottish cliffs and reappeared in the alleyway close to Thomas's home. He hoped that the other boy was there, because he didn't know where else to look.

The normally short walk seemed excruciatingly long this time, and Draco let out a relieved breath when he reached the house of his friend. And brother. Draco was still getting used to that.

Before he could so much as knock, the door was thrown open and Thomas grabbed him in a hug. "Draco! Are you alright?"

Draco clung to the hug, even though he felt as if he should push Thomas away. "Define alright."

Thomas let go of him and gave him a critical once over. "Come on in, you look like hell warmed over."

Draco stepped into the house and pulled his shoes off. He followed Thomas up to his room and settled on the rug before the bed. The other boy offered him a bottle with an eye-wateringly bright red label that read 'Coca-Cola'. Draco accepted it, only just now realising that he had barely drunk anything all day.

"So what happened? Your date go wrong?" Thomas asked, settling down next to Draco and popping his own bottle open.

Draco snorted. "No, it was lovely right till the end, where her muggle parents suddenly stood in front of us. She freaked out and I had to calm her down. But they left with her. Apparently Hermione came over later and asked Andromeda to help her while she restored her parents' memories and that's what they have been doing all morning and I haven't heard anything from her…"

"And now you're freaking out," Thomas nodded wisely. "But I wouldn't take it too seriously. I mean it's been what? Twelve hours if you don't count the time you were both asleep?" Draco nodded silently. "She's probably so caught up with having her parents home that she simply hadn't time to contact you yet."

"I kissed her," Draco whispered. "Before I left, on the cheek and she promised to come to tea tomorrow. But…"

"You think you went too far?" Thomas guessed when Draco didn't continue his sentence.

"I think now that her parents are back she will remember why she hates me," Draco mumbled, picking at the label of his bottle. The drink was sweet, like pumpkin juice, but more refreshing.

"You do realise you aren't the arsehole you were even a few months ago anymore, don't you?" Thomas asked incredulously. "He would never have shared a coke with a muggle, much less come to a muggle because he's freaking out over a girl whose guts he hated back then."

Draco had to smile a bit at Thomas blunt words. "But that doesn't erase what I did to her."

"Did you ever apologise properly? Like face to face?" his kind-of brother asked him as he drained the last of his drink.

"I-" Draco stopped to actually think about it. "No, I don't think so. I- Well, my mother wrote her a letter that first day in the holding cell and I added my gratitude for saving me. But I don't think I actually ever apologised to her."

"Well then, try that tomorrow when she comes over, if she accepts it you can stop worrying and if she doesn't…" Thomas trailed off with a shrug. "I don't think she won't accept it."

Draco joined the Tonkses for lunch at Mary's insistence. When he returned home he got an earful from his mother about worrying her, but Draco happily carried out the 'punishment' task of caring for Teddy that evening while his parents and Andromeda went to meet a real-estate broker for a house-viewing in London.

Draco would miss living with Andromeda - she always had an open ear for him, and her house was very comfortable and comforting.

14th June 1998, 9:04

For the first time in who knows how long, Hermione woke up well rested and content. She felt happy even though nothing special was going to happen today. With a slight smile on her face she rose and started to go about her morning routine. Now including the actual care for her hair.

Hermione did her hair with new-found precision and passion. The moisturising spray allowed her to brush her hair without much cussing and for the first time in over a year Hermione decided to leave it fully open.

On the run she simply hadn't had the energy and since…since she just hadn't felt right. Wrong in her skin, wrong in her habits.

Hermione wondered whether Draco would be surprised to see her like this. Narcissa would certainly be delighted, since she had been nagging Hermione for some time to wear her hair open again. To be proud of her heritage, not just her immediate parentage.

Once her hair was done, Hermione went downstairs into the kitchen to be greeted by a low whistle from Harry, who was preparing breakfast.

"Wow, you look great 'Mione!" he said with a big grin, pushing his glasses up his nose with his wand.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione smiled happily, glad that her famously unobservant best friend noticed the change. "Is Ron back yet?"

Just then the fireplace started roaring with green flames and Ron tumbled out, his cloak tattered, his face looking like he walked headfirst into a rose bush and his hands clutching a newspaper.

"Speak of the devil," Harry laughed. "Mate, you don't look so good!"

"Haven't slept yet and Kingsley is a bloody slave driver, but look at this article! It must have come through last night!" Ron exclaimed, pushing the paper into Hermione's hands and collapsing on a chair, trying to catch his breath.

Harry stepped closer to read over Hermione's shoulder.

Official notice after the extraordinary Wizengamot session of the 13th June 1998:

The Wizengamot hereby declares its decision on the matter of the investigation of one Ms Rita Skeeter, journalist for the Daily Prophet and author: The investigation into the allegations of multiple cases of coerced statements, illegal use of potions and possible violation of the Animagus Registration Act will be taken up by the Auror Department immediately. During the course of this investigation Rita Skeeter is prohibited from publishing any and all articles, commentaries or books. Anyone publishing her work in defiance of this order will be charged for aiding and abetting a criminal. Ms Skeeter is required to stay in Great Britain at all times during the investigation.

Hermione looked up at Ron, having finished reading the short article. "This is amazing, even if it took them long enough to decide."

"I know, right?" Ron asked grinning. "I knew I had to buy the Prophet for once! By the way, did you do something with your hair?"

"I was at the hairdresser with my parents yesterday," Hermione said distractedly, rereading the article and trying to read between the lines of the official statement.

"So, what did you end up doing tonight?" Harry asked, turning to Ron who was currently pouring himself some tea and grabbing a bread roll.

"Went with Kingsley and Davis on a stake-out of a smuggling ring, only they noticed us because of a damn owl," Ron told them with an exasperated sigh, still grinning and obviously high on adrenaline. "We had to fight and we recruits were allowed to take some of them into custody!"

"That sounds like a busy night," Harry commented with an amused glance to Hermione.

She looked up from the article and took in the cuts and hex-burns on Ron's face and hands. "I'll get the Dittany for your cuts. How did you enjoy your first stake-out turned raid?"

Ron launched into an exciting tale of the last night's heroics while Hermione tended to his cuts and Harry started on the eggs and the baked beans. Now and then Harry asked a few questions and Hermione noticed one name being mentioned more often than the others: Alice.

"Who is Alice?" she finally asked curiously. "She sounds pretty important."

Ron's ears instantly turned red. "She's a recruit like me, she studied at Beauxbatons, but she's our age."

"And?" Harry asked, levitating the pans on the table.

Ron shrugged and fiddled with his cloak. "She's pretty and amazing, she likes Quidditch a lot, curses like a sailor sometimes."

"Ohh, that sounds really good, Ron!" Hermione said, a big smile on her face. "Have you talked to her yet?"

"Nah," Ron looked down, his smile slowly vanishing. "She's way out of my league."

"Well, since I don't know her, I can't really say anything about that. But I know you're pretty amazing too, Ron, don't forget that, yes?" Hermione said, putting her hand on her friend's arm.

"'Mione's right, as always," Harry said with an encouraging smile. "You're a great guy. Maybe you should try to talk to her next time you see her."

"Yeah, maybe," Ron mumbled, but his smile was returning. "Thank you for cooking Harry, I'm starving!"

"I would be worried if you weren't," Hermione teased and Ron rolled his eyes at her, but he was fully smiling now.

Hermione turned back to the newspaper article, while Ron put away his cloak and Harry started eating. She was taking notes in the margin now, questions she could ask Andromeda or Lucius, but soon she was done and grabbed some food of her own.

"Are you coming to the dinner at Mum's tonight?" Ron asked just as Hermione had taking the first bite of her eggs.

She looked up, swallowed and thought about the question. "I'll meet my parents after breakfast and later I'll have tea at Andromeda's but I think I should make it to the Burrow in time."

"Great," Ron said, sounding rather relieved. "Apparently George wants to bring Nott with him today, we could use someone who can keep a cool head about them."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about Theo, he is very polite and quiet," Hermione assured him with a quick smile.

"I'm not really worried about him, he seemed alright at Malfoy's acquittal party," Ron elaborated, frowning a bit. "But Mum and Dad might be not very happy with him there. He isn't Malfoy, but Dad did never believe that Nott wasn't a Death Eater…"

Hermione swallowed, sometimes she forgot the Weasleys were also biased, if not as obviously as the Malfoys. "Alright. But I think between George, you and me we should manage."

"I'll be there too and…" Harry hesitated and flicked a quick look at both of them. "I talked a lot with Pansy, about the last year, you know. Nott- he did what he could to protect the halfblood Slytherins, but he had it bad at home. Pansy thinks it was nearly worse for him than for Malfoy because it wasn't Tom, but his own father. You probably shouldn't mention that to him though."

Ron nodded, pushing the last of his beans around on his plate. "Last week we were given reports to study. We aren't allowed to talk about the contents, but I can tell you this: If I was Nott, I'd burn the whole damn manor down and salt the grounds. It's a bloody wonder he didn't go crazy like his old man."

"I didn't know it was that bad," Hermione whispered, shaken badly. She had of course known that Nott Manor had a dark and bloody history, but to hear it from her two best friends made it somehow more real than when she had been in the Entrance Hall for a moment before flooing to the lodge. Hermione had to swallow down the bile and took a huge gulp of her tea.

"Oh, 'Mione, McGonagall wants to speak to all theoretically graduating seventh years," Harry said in an obvious effort to change the topic. "Something about the organisation of the next school year and the NEWTs."

"Did she tell you when? I had to leave before she had decided," Ron explained at Hermione's confused look.

"Sometime this weekend, definitely before the summer solstice celebration on Sunday night," Harry told them.

"Why do they want to celebrate the summer solstice?" Hermione asked surprised, after all she hadn't heard of any such celebrations before.

"To do a thorough cleansing of the castle of dark magic," Ron explained in Harry's stead. "They want to do it the old way, and the solstice strengthens such spells. They'll probably repeat it at the winter solstice to make sure that everything is gone."

"That's what McGonagall told me too," Harry nodded along. "She wants everyone there, even, or rather especially, those who used dark magic last year. I mean, it's right, many students were forced to and were too afraid to refuse."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. I'm glad they want to include everyone. Are the parents invited too?"

"Yeah, although I dunno how many'll come," Ron said quietly. "The old magic has a bad reputation, especially with the older folks. I don't know why."

"Well, much old magic required blood, and not always your own, so it was labelled dark magic," Hermione shrugged. "I guess people just assume that it's true for all old magic."

Once they were done with eating, Ron started yawning and Harry and Hermione shooed him off to bed. Hermione got her purse and made sure her wand was securely holstered on her arm, under the long sleeved shirt she was wearing. Slowly but surely it became harder and harder to always wear long sleeves because it was too warm, but Hermione had yet to find a spell that really hid her scar.

Harry was off to visit to Neville and bid her goodbye in the hallway. Hermione stepped out of the front door and apparated into her parents' house.

o0o

When Hermione reappeared in the hallway of her old home she was overcome by a wave of nervous nausea. Quickly she turned and walked into the kitchen, getting out the cleaning supplies and started dusting the muggle way to calm her nerves.

Her parents now had had time to think about what she did, both to them and during the war. Would they judge her now? Hermione caught herself thinking that it would be a relief. Their easy acceptance the day before had made her extremely nervous, she had waited the whole time for the other shoe to drop.

But it never happened and it drove Hermione crazy.

Just when Hermione had finished dusting the ground floor, her parents arrived at the front door. She saw them through the window and took a deep breath before she went and opened the door for them.

a/n2: Some bonding time for Thomas and Draco and our Golden Trio. What did you think? How will Molly and Arthur handle having the son of Thoros Nott in their house? What else will the investigation of Rita Skeeter bring to light? I'm looking forward to your reviews! :)