Author's Note: Happy Halloween! Because today is the anniversary of James and Lily Potters' deaths, I'd like to take a moment to self-promote one of my favorite stories that I've written—Trust Me. It's just a short story, 4 chapters. Severus tries to warn Lily that one of James's friends is a traitor. Lily and James pick their secret keeper, and their secret keeper betrays them. I'm particularly attached to the last chapter; it's the only time I've really written Peter and Voldemort and I'm please without it turned out, so shameless plug.

There's some stuff in this chapter I'm extremely excited about. This is also the last chapter I'm getting up before NaNoWriMo commences in a few hours. Is anyone else doing it? You can find me on the NaNo site as TheDragonQuill. I'm hoping to keep updating this story while doing NaNoWriMo this month, though I imagine updates will slow down from what they were in October (October was insane with updates; the story practically wrote itself).

I'm updating my blog tonight as well, if anyone follows that, it's HiIMakeStuff and it's on WordPress.

And last, but not least, thank you to HallowRain, Ssdawning and Jani for chapter title suggestions. And thank you to everyone who reviewed. I can't say enough how much the reviews help fuel my writing. It brightens my day.

Chapter 22: Stereotypes

Draco and Hermione sat companionably on her couch. Breakfast was spread out on the coffee table, and on Hermione's television, a girl in a blue gingham dress was following the yellow brick road. Draco had asked a number of questions so far, including (but not limited to): Why is everything gray? Is the lady who hates dogs supposed to be a witch? Are you sure Glinda and the green lady are both supposed to be witches? And (Hermione's favorite): who ever heard of magic ruby slippers?

Hermione had answered all questions with good humor. At one point, she'd paused the movie and attempted to explain about politicians with no courage, farmers with no brains, industry with no heart, and the gold standard vs. silver standard. Halfway through the explanation on currency standards Draco raised is hand. "No more. I can't take Muggle politics. Wizarding politics are screwed up enough."

The brunette had snickered quietly to herself and started playing the movie again. Draco had left a note under her door Friday before he went to work, inviting her to host him this morning with breakfast and indicating that he'd provide the entertainment. It certainly was entertaining, for both of them.

She had half intended to stay up last night until he should have been home from the restaurant, but she'd had a very long week and was asleep on her couch long before he would have returned from his shift. As a matter of fact, she'd fallen asleep with a book on her face.

"That is one of the ugliest things I've ever seen."

"The winged monkeys are one of her trademarks. I'm not really sure what they're supposed to represent, if anything. Coffee?" she asked, reaching for her cup and preparing to get up.

"I'll get it," he offered, taking both of their cups and going into the kitchen, looking over his shoulder at the winged monkeys.

"I can pause it you know."

"I can see it from here," he said, busying himself making them each a cup of coffee. A little smile played at his lips. Watching this film with Hermione was clearly superior to watching it with anyone else. He brought the coffees back to the table and handed Hermione hers—plenty of cream, no sugar—and sat down to enjoy the movie. They watched for a while, companionable. And then Draco opened his mouth again. "Why doesn't she just fly home on the broom? She has it."

Hermione giggled at his outrage a little while later when Glinda revealed that Dorothy could click her heels together and go home. "Why didn't she tell her sooner? That's just cruel." He had a stroke of brilliance. "It's Umbridge!"

"Pardon?" Hermione asked.

"Glinda. The pink dress and the smiles. I don't know how she fooled anyone. It's just like Umbridge and her candy-coated, fluffy kitten brand of evil."

Hermione stared for a moment, and burst out laughing. She'd never seen it in that light before. "It gets worse if you think about it. She uses Dorothy to dispatch both her enemies—the Witch of the East and the Witch of the West, and then hangs around to rule Oz while Dorothy goes home. See, there she is."

They watched as Dorothy (all in grayscale again) came to her senses in her own bed at home surrounded by her family.

"So was it a dream, or wasn't it?" Draco demanded.

Hermione grinned. "That's the question, isn't it? And if it wasn't a dream, it's extra cruel of Glinda to let her think it was while she goes ahead and rules over Oz and Dorothy has to come to terms with things back home."

The pair of them continued to sit on the couch together while the credits played. Hermione was still in her pajamas, with her hair in a braid that she'd slept in. Well, some of it was in the braid. Some of it had escaped.

"What's on your agenda this week?"

"More of the same from last week, really. Belby in the mornings, working with George in the afternoons. I'm researching old mirror enchantments at the moment. Have I told you much about the mirrors we're trying to make? We want to find some sort of wizarding equivalent for mobile phones. I've looked into the enchantments used for making mirrors tell you about your reflection, but it's a fundamentally different enchantment from what we're looking for—that's a sort of sentience, whereas we're looking for a connection."

Draco frowned, trying to remember an antique he'd once seen at the Manor. It had a gaudy frame. He didn't think there was anything particularly magical about it, but he'd been looking at it one day and his father had told him a story, before laughing and saying that the story had nothing to do with the mirror and his mother just found the frame too gaudy for the house and it was going to be stored in the attic. "There used to be mirrors that could search for things. More accurate than crystal balls, but of similar intent. They combined sentience and a number of other factors to allow you to search for things. They were outlawed a long time ago and there were never many made—they were highly complex. Some batty witch used hers to find which Muggles were prettier than she was so she could drain their blood." He shuddered. "Dark Magic." He noticed Hermione was gaping at him. "What?"

She phrased her question carefully. "Draco, are you saying that there was actually a witch who drank the blood of Muggles to keep herself youthful?"

"Something like that. A lot of…unsavory things went on before wizards and Muggles went their separate ways. Not by a lot of people, but it doesn't take many before they're screaming for everyone's heads. Why?" he asked. Dark Magic had a lot of distasteful requirements. Victims' blood was the least of it.

She was torn between laughter and utter horror and produced a rather strangled sound. "Muggles have stories about it. One in particular, Snow White, was about a beautiful princess who's stepmother was a witch and a queen and obsessed with youth and beauty. She would ask her mirror who the fairest person in the land was, and the answer was always herself, until one day the mirror said her stepdaughter was fairer. She threw a fit and hired someone to kill her, but he had mercy on her and she escaped and went to live with some dwarves until her stepmother hunted her down again. It's an old story."

"It was a darker time. And it's probably true. Might have just been some sort of land owner, and not royalty, but…" He shrugged. The status of the offender didn't change it. It was a dark and ugly business.

Hermione grimaced. "So, not all of our bad reputation in literature is underserved?"

"It was a long time ago. But there's a reason we exist separately from Muggles, with our own laws and everything. When you can control someone with a few words…"

"You need rules to make sure the people who can do that aren't taking advantage of the people who can't," Hermione finished.

"And to protect the people who can," Draco argued. "We have magic. But the Muggles outnumber us by a lot. And everyone has to sleep sometimes. One bad egg in a neighborhood could give magic users in any area a bad reputation and cause them to meet a bad end. It happened."

Hermione could just picture a whole village with pitchforks burning someone who'd done no more than provide healing potions because a neighboring witch had enchanted the area's children (or some similar nonsense). "There ought to be a way for all of us to manage to live together, without the secrecy."

Draco looked skeptical. "Wizards would have to not take advantage of Muggles, and Muggles would have to learn to accept that their entire world looks differently than they thought it did and not have a massive panic."

She looked at him with a wry smile. "Is that your way of saying I should stick to one impossible cause at a time?"

Draco tipped an imaginary hat to her. "It would be my advice, yes. You've got the whole wizarding world's collective mind to change about werewolves. I'd start there before trying to change the entire—and massive—Muggle world's mind about wizards. They must breed like rabbits. There's so many Muggles."

Hermione laughed. "It's not that. A lot of Muggles only have one or two kids, the same as wizards. Some have more—the same as wizards. It's just that there's a higher percentage of the population at large that doesn't have magic. And the last few centuries of wizards sticking more closely together and not interacting with Muggles just made the pool of wizards smaller and smaller.'

The morning had passed into afternoon while they talked. Hermione had read a lot, but there were certainly sections of wizarding history that didn't seem to make the textbooks, but were fairly familial common knowledge. She did try to take it all with a grain of salt—his opinion was coming from a Pureblood family that had been relatively isolated from Muggles for some time.

The day wasn't too cloudy, but it was cold. They decided they'd go out for lunch—Hermione needed to pick up groceries anyway. "Why don't you go and get your jacket and we'll go?"

"I don't have one." She stared at him for a moment and he bristled. "It wasn't cold yet when I bought Muggle clothes."

"If you would have said you needed one, I could have kept Ron's," she said, exasperated. She didn't even notice that she'd managed to say his name without her voice catching.

He shook his head. "I couldn't." He would have had to have been very desperate to take the Weasel's jacket. He could only imagine the look on Hermione's face to see him wearing it all winter. "It'll serve better wherever it is. Besides, I can get one, I just haven't."

And so, somehow, lunch and groceries turned into lunch, groceries, and finding a winter jacket. He was rather appalled at the cost of a decent jacket, something that never would have happened buying robes or a cloak in the wizarding world with his family's gold. At Hermione's suggestion and Draco's great reluctance, they tried a secondhand shop, where Draco found a fairly nice coat in very good condition for a fraction of the price. It did take a little while to convince Draco that a secondhand coat wouldn't contaminate him somehow. "Honestly, Draco, think about it. When you buy something new at the store, how many people have probably tried it on first and decided they didn't like it?" Eventually he did find one that suited him and they started heading back towards their flats. Night was coming on and Draco had to work.

As they entered the bottom floor of their building, Hermione sidetracked to the mailboxes. Hermione didn't check her mailbox very often; it wasn't as if she ever expected anyone to write. But it was worth seeing if she had any messages from the building management. She opened the box and found a handful of adverts and locked it back up.

"What are those?"

"Muggle post. Mostly adverts. I don't check very often. It's not exactly as if there's anyone to write to me. You haven't checked your box? That's what the little key on the ring they gave you is for."

She helped him find his mailbox and he opened it. Mostly, there were 4 months of adverts addressed to "Resident" or "Occupant." But on the top of the stack, there was something actually addressed to Draco. It was an envelope covered in stamps, except for a one inch square with his name and address. "What is this?" he asked, turning it over.

Hermione's breath caught and it was all she could do not to break out in a smile. She recognized the writing. "Open it."

The blonde rolled his eyes and opened the envelope. There was a card in it with a picture of a tree all decorated for Christmas on the front. On the inside it said:

Draco,

I hope you'll be able to come celebrate Christmas at the Burrow with us. Come over on Christmas Eve and join the celebrations. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. Would you rather share a room with Harry, or George, Percy, or stay on the couch? Do you eat lima beans? What's your favorite color?

Molly Weasley

P.S. Please ask Hermione to send your response by owl. I'm not sure the postman knows where our house is.

Draco read the letter over again to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "I don't know what you had to do to make this happen, but Molly Weasley just welcomed me into her house with open arms," he said, tucking the card into the bag with his jacket.

Hermione chuckled and they started going up the stairs. "It didn't take much. All I had to do was ask if you could come. The rest of it is all her. Mrs. Weasley is one of a kind."

He looked bemused. "Well, I did promise I'd go if she welcomed me in. I suppose I have to now."

"You do," she said, satisfied. "I'll make arrangements on the Knight Bus."

"And I suppose I'll need to start buying Christmas gifts." They climbed another flight of stairs. "Is there anything Muggle I could get my mother that she might actually like? Or should I give you money to get something for her in Diagon Alley?"

"I'm sure we can find something your mother will like."

As they reached the floor where their flats were, they went their separate ways. They had groceries to put away, and Draco had to get ready for work, and Hermione had potions to brew for Belby, and a letter to send off to a certain blonde abroad.

Draco was bundled up in his winter jacket, hands shoved in his pockets to keep them warm. He was on his way to the library. He was going to start volunteering. For a little while anyway. It was worth at least opening up the possibility of getting some sort of job that would let him work during the daylight hours.

Last week had been an exceptionally long week.

Admittedly, balancing volunteer hours at the library during the day and working at the restaurant at night also promised some long days coming up.

Hermione wrote to Harry to make sure he was coming to the Burrow for Christmas. Several letters back and forward determined that he was coming for Christmas Eve—and that Teddy and Andromeda would come by in the evening, but that he'd be going back to Andromeda's home after breakfast on Christmas Day to celebrate with them. Dudley was going to come over on Boxing Day if Hermione wanted to visit then. She asked if she could bring Draco.

Somehow in the course of their exchange, Harry and Hermione agreed to meet up for a little Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley after she finished with George that day. To Hermione's surprise, Harry came right into the shop, and was talking to Lee Jordan when Hermione left George in the back. George had more work to do this evening—it was the season for enchanted mistletoe and snowballs that could follow a chosen target until they connected. Hermione hugged Harry and said goodbye to Lee and they wandered out into the street.

Harry pulled his cloak around him tight as they wandered first into Flourish and Blotts (with a smile from Harry at Hermione's predictability) and then Quality Quidditch Supplies (with an eye roll from Hermione). They wandered through Diagon Alley, enjoying each other's company, and talking quietly, occasionally buying something that they thought might make a good gift for someone. There were new Quidditch gloves for Ginny. A blanket for Teddy with warming charms built in. A locket for Molly. At last they tucked themselves into the Leakey Cauldron and asked Tom for a private booth so the pair of them could talk quietly in peace. Harry hadn't had problems with reporters in a few months, but that was by and large because he'd almost entirely stayed out of the wizarding world for the last few months.

They ordered dinner and settled in together after Tom had brought it out and left them alone again. "I'm glad Andromeda and Teddy are coming for Christmas Eve. I think it'll do Molly good to have a baby in the house."

"It might help take her mind off some things. I'm a little nervous honestly. It'll be the first time I've seen any of the Weasleys since…"

"Not even Ginny?" she asked, surprised. She would have thought at the least, he'd have made amends with her when he finally sought out Hermione.

"I haven't even written Ginny. I barely responded to Molly enough to tell her what my Christmas plans are," Harry said, sipping his drink.

Hermione shook her head. "Harry. It's Ginny."

He nodded in agreement. "It is Ginny. And…we had something in sixth year. And then we went off chasing Horcruxes for a year. I'm not sure I've processed all of it yet. I've been through a lot, and she wasn't in my shoes. And I know she's been through her own hell, and I wasn't in her shoes. I don't think either of us is the same person we were a year and a half ago. Maybe the people we are now will be compatible, maybe they won't, but I'm not ready to try yet." He took another sip of his drink, his voice self-deprecating. "I've been an absolute rubbish friend to you this fall. I'm trying to fix that. You deserve better. And I need to be a good godfather to Teddy. He deserved that. Beyond that…I don't know what I have left in me to give anyone right now. It's not an excuse. It's just a fact."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "Harry, I know what it's like not to have anything left to give. After all, it's not like I came looking for you the last few months either. I think we both needed a little time and space to let our heads settle out. I'm glad things are better with your cousin now."

"It still seems a bit surreal," Harry admitted. "But you seem to be doing okay. You're working with George, and you've started your apprenticeship."

"It only seems like I'm managing because you got to skip the phase where I couldn't get dressed without crying, and sat in my flat for months. Draco helped me get through those months. I made sure he didn't starve to set fire to his flat and he was there. Thank you for saying he could come over for Boxing Day."

"He's Teddy's family, and Andromeda's. And I suppose mine in a way now." He wrinkled his nose. "That's a strange thought. But if you want him there, I'm fine having him. What is going on with you and Malfoy?"

"He's important to me. I don't know what else to say other than that." She paused, tasting her dinner to buy herself a moment to think. "I've only been doing my apprenticeship two weeks now, and you know what? I miss him. I don't miss people—there's Belby, and George, and Lee and the whole world outside now that I actually leave my flat every day. I miss him. He works nights and I'm working all day, so we see less of each other now and I've noticed. He does the sort of nice things for me that you or Ginny might—making sure I have a good birthday for example, and don't spend it by myself. I don't know if he feels guilty for years of torment. Or just lonely from being cut off from everyone else he knows. Or if this is just part of his evolution of turning into a better human being. Or maybe he's just playing it all as a game and making sure to stay in my good graces so I'll continue helping him while he's without magic, and he'll go right back to the way he was in 7 or 8 months. I don't know. And I'm not sure I care. Right now, I'd rather have his company than not have it, whether or not it means anything. I'm not looking at any of it too closely." She let out a breath. She hadn't quite been prepared for the torrent of words she unleashed, but they didn't entirely surprise her either. She had carefully avoided thinking too hard on any of it. Whatever it was, it was. He was important to her and his support this fall had helped her heal as much as she had right now. She and Ron had only ever properly had a romantic relationship with one another for a few months before he was killed. She was comfortable with Draco. They could hold hands, and cook for one another. And talk. And laugh. It didn't sound unlike her friendship with Harry if she thought about in those terms. He was important to her and it didn't need defining.

Harry was quiet for a moment before he responded. "I'm grateful that he could be there for you when you needed someone, and I couldn't. If I can forgive Dudley for years of abuse, I imagine I'll get used to Malfoy as well. I've already moved past the worst of it, or I wouldn't have testified for him."

"Well, thank you," she said, smiling in relief. She hadn't expected an argument out of Harry on including Draco for the holidays, but hearing him say it did give her a measure of relief.

They moved the conversation on to other topics and stayed in the booth for a while. Hermione urged him to owl Ginny—regardless of whether or not he wanted any sort of relationship with her—just to set her mind at rest and let her know he was okay. They talked a lot about Mrs. and Mr. Weasley and all that they'd done for them over the years. Hermione did her best to persuade Harry that he a visit to Hogwarts might do him some good, but he said he wasn't ready. There were too many metaphorical ghosts (and a number of real ones). Well, if he wouldn't go, would he consider writing to Neville or McGonagall? He'd think about it.

Draco was debating whether moving books was worse than moving plates. The worst a book would have on it was dust, whereas there was no end to what sort of things could stain his shirts when he was moving plates around. Still, he was learning. Apparently the numbers on the spines actually meant something, and Theresa had showed him a little more about the cataloguing system. Admittedly, he also had to work with the elderly woman with the scratchy voice as well.

They were shelving books when Theresa asked, "How is the writing going?"

"It's not. I've tried, but I seem to be rubbish at it. It all sounds…unnatural."

"Have you tried writing about what you know?"

He snorted. He'd written dragons and hippogriffs and goblins and pixies. "Believe me, I'm familiar with my subject matter."

"But do you really know it?" she persisted.

He arched an eyebrow, not sure what she was getting at. He was tired. Working in the library might be more enjoyable if he wasn't also waiting tables at night, but as Hermione had pointed out, he was short on work experience and education. He had a lot of learning to do before anyone would consider paying him to do this and letting him leave the restaurant.

"Try writing about yourself."

"I don't want anyone reading about me. Not that I'm sure there'd be a market for that anyway," he said firmly.

"I'm not saying you have to write it to be read. Just write to get used to writing. To get a feel for it. You'd be surprised. Now, when we're done with this cart, there are two more that came in, and then you and Ms. Smith can clear up the children's section. The Mommy and Me group did arts and crafts today and the tables…" She chuckled. "I think you'll be finding glitter for a week."

He suppressed a groan. "You did say she's retiring soon, didn't you?" She nodded. "Oh yes. I can't wait. If I'm allowed to start writing the grant funding, we'll get a lot more computers. It's going to be the next big thing, I can feel it. And I'd like to try and get some author's in here for book readings."

Draco pushed the cart. Theresa was a little too cheerful sometimes. He tried to remind himself that he wanted a job with day time hours, and getting it would be worth putting up with her.