Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.

Harry lowered the newspaper, a sour taste in the back of his mouth. He really hoped the marriage law wouldn't be enacted. It wasn't a law that forced marriage or anything ridiculous like that, but one which gave an incentive for couples to have two or more children. He wondered if Ginny knew about it and that was why she was so eager when he brought up their children's names a few days ago.

"Severus Potter," he muttered derisively to himself. "What the hell was I thinking?"

That you love Ginny and if a name makes her happy, why should you protest?

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Hopefully she would allow him control of the other names. He didn't want to see what else she could come up with. Pigwidgeon was a cute name for a pet, but if Ginny's names for their children were similarly creative, Severus was actually a good option in comparison.

Throwing the newspaper aside, he decided to go for a stroll and stood from his desk. The other Aurors in the office eyed him with contempt as he left. Long since used to such looks, Harry ignored them and went to the elevator. Kingsley would send him a Patronus if he was needed for anything, but that was doubtful. Harry usually had at least a day's notice before he was expected for an event.

After fetching a sandwich from the Ministry's cafeteria, Harry settled on the edge of the fountain in the atrium and watched the flow of people while eating. Here, everyone was in too much of a rush to notice him. He liked it that way.

Once again, a flash of gold caught his eye. Harry frowned, wondering why the color of the young woman's hair was so familiar. She had just exited the hall which contained the lifts and headed toward the wand registering station. After a short conversation, the guard checked her wand and then handed it back to her. Then she hurried to one of the gilded fireplaces and in a whirl of green flames, departed the Ministry.

Harry shook his head and took another bite of his sandwich. She must have been one of the Slytherins from his time. Several of them had been conscripted into working for the Department of Mystery, and they always had their wands checked for prior magic before they were allowed to leave the building.

A paper airplane poked Harry in the head, drawing him out of his thoughts. He plucked it out of the air, made sure it was his own name written on the wing, and then read the note. For a long moment, he just stared at it. Then he crumpled up the note and sighed.

Shortly after the war ended, Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. In the same trial, Narcissa had been confined to her own home, which was the best Harry could do for her. He knew she would expect him to do more in Draco's upcoming trial, though.

He would have to speak with Hermione. She had only just started her job today, but judging by her note, she was already in a position to know the Ministry's major operations. With her help, he might be able to get the youngest Malfoy's sentence down from ten years to only five. It was less than what Draco deserved, but unfortunately, Harry owed it to Mrs. Malfoy.

Daphne waited for almost five minutes before she realized no one was about to answer the door. Cautiously, she opened it and then immediately winced. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to warn her mother she would be visiting. Maybe she wouldn't have been walking into an argument then.

Following the raised voices to the parlor, she found her mother and younger sister facing each other. Astoria stood with her hands placed on her hips and looked more like a preteen girl not getting her way rather than her true seventeen years.

"They're my friends! Why can't I see them?"

"And are these the same friends," their mother said, her distaste for the term clear in her tone, "who are encouraging you to drop out of school?"

"It's not like getting my N.E.W.T.s will achieve anything," Astoria snapped. "Besides, if Harry Potter can skip his last year, why can't I?"

"Because it's safer in school," said Daphne, drawing their attention to her. Astoria's face had initially lit up, but any hope she had of Daphne supporting her had just been dashed, and now she looked irritated at the interruption. "Trust me, Tori, it's much worse in the real world. And if you don't get your N.E.W.T.s, then you have to work in something like retail."

Astoria crossed her arms. "Or I could become a famous Quidditch player," she said snippily.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Sure, if you were dating Harry Potter. Then you could also get an award for doing almost nothing in the war."

She understood why Potter got an award; he had, after all, destroyed Voldemort. It also made sense for Longbottom, who had lead the rebellion inside Hogwarts. Even Finnigan and Corner, who had suffered an extensive amount of torture, probably deserved an award. The Weaslette, however, had done nothing but look pretty, safe behind the protection of the DA and, if rumors were to be believed, Snape as well. Until the Final Battle, she hadn't been involved in any of the fights, and as a result, she was the only member of Dumbledore's Army who came out of the war unscathed.

Of course, the Weaslette insisted otherwise, and her venture into Snape's office for the sword was painted as a heroic endeavor.

Astoria's mouth twisted and she deliberately pushed Daphne out of the way as she left the room. Eyes widening, Daphne watched her sister stalk up the stairs. Never had Astoria been so rude to her before. Things at Hogwarts must have been worse than she thought.

Once they heard the door to Astoria's room slam closed, Daphne's mother sagged into a chair and touched her temple while closing her eyes. "We should've sent you both to Durmstrang," she murmured.

An ache formed in Daphne's throat. They had relatives in Denmark who attended Durmstrang, so she knew she could have had a pleasant education there, but that option had long since gone past, even for Astoria.

"Things will get better, Mum," she said. "I promise. We'll get Alexander's kids and we'll all be happy again."

"Of course we will, dear," her mother responded, but she didn't open her eyes, which was a silent statement of her own beliefs.