Author's Note: My heart goes out to everyone in Paris tonight. Not much else to say other than that.

Chapter 26: Seasons

Morning followed evening, as it usually does, and Draco woke up and packed his things. Even though he'd only spent two nights here, he was starting to get used to the room, gunpowder smell and all. Part of him felt a tug of regret knowing they'd be leaving today.

Today, he got dressed before going down to breakfast, and brought his travel bag with him. He reached the table and found Hermione and Ginny both there, still in their pajamas. "Hasn't anyone ever told you redheads aren't supposed to wear pink?" Draco asked.

"Plenty of people. I usually tell them to go put their wand somewhere uncomfortable," Ginny said cheerfully.

"Good thing I don't have a wand anymore," Draco muttered. He settled himself at the table next to Hermione and helped himself to breakfast.

"Where is everyone else?" he asked.

"George has already been and gone. He's left to open the shop," Hermione said. "Charlie went with him, and Percy's already gone off to the Ministry."

"Mum and Dad are around somewhere I think. They might be out walking in the garden. They're like a couple of teenagers sometimes. But Mum left breakfast out for us, so that's something."

Draco found he was a little relieved not to have a big family breakfast today. As much as he'd enjoyed the last couple of days, he was ready for a reduction in the energy level of socializing.

"I figure after we finish eating, I'll get dressed and we can summon the Knight Bus," Hermione offered.

"Oh joy," Draco remarked, utterly unenthusiastic.

Ginny snickered. "I'll see if I can get Mum to let me out on New Year's Eve."

"Good," Hermione said.

They finished breakfast, and Draco stayed downstairs while Hermione went upstairs to get changed. To his surprise, Ginny stayed downstairs as well. He felt a little uncomfortable when he realized she was watching him. "What?" he bristled.

Ginny pursed her lips together in proper McGonagall fashion. "Whatever you do, don't hurt my best friend."

"Weaslette—"

"I mean it, Malfoy. I've seen the way you look at each other. Don't you dare hurt her," she told him, her voice low and fierce.

Draco swallowed. For a not particularly large person, Ginny Weasley could be quite threatening and frightening when she chose. "I'll remember that."

"Good," she said. She smiled pleasantly and departed up the stairs.

Draco muttered, "Girls are mad." He cooled his heels in the living room for a little longer until Hermione came back down with her bag.

"Ready to go?" she asked. "I've already said goodbye to Ginny."

"If we must," he said. "I believe she's already said goodbye to me."

"Then we just need to find Molly and Arthur and we can go." They found the Weasley matriarch and patriarch just coming in from the garden and made their farewells. Mrs. Weasley told them both that they were welcome back any time, and Mr. Weasley echoed her sentiments. Draco gave a sincere thanks for being included in the holiday festivities, and Hermione brought up the possibility of Ginny coming to celebrate the new year.

At last, they went outside and Hermione flagged down the Knight Bus, giving the conductor the address next door to Harry's as they boarded. Draco regretted breakfast not long after he boarded, and the pair of them didn't say much. Hermione combatted the nausea by burying herself in a book. She offered one to Draco, but it was too hard to concentrate as the bus popped in and out of space.

When the bus finally stopped at Grimmauld Place, Draco and Hermione staggered out gratefully. "Never again. Never ever again," he muttered.

"Well," Hermione said stoically, "The bright side is we're back in London, so we can take the tube back to our flats when we leave here." She led the way to the door of the house (the whole house appearing out of nowhere as they approached), and knocked.

Harry answered the door and invited them in. Hermione was pleased to see that the troll umbrella stand and portrait of Sirius's mother were both gone, and told him so. Harry chuckled. "It's amazing. As soon as I said that I was going to set fire to her portrait rather than have to hear it yell at me ever again, Kreacher said that he could remove the portrait from the wall. It lives in his pantry now, and I've soundproofed the room." As they continued through the house, Hermione was less than thrilled to see the house-elves still mounted to the wall.

"Harry!" she said exasperatedly, gesturing to them.

"I want to take them down, but I don't know what to do with them. It seems…callous to just toss them in the rubbish bin, but I don't know what else I can do with them. Maybe some sort of burial if I had the land for it."

Hermione had to acknowledge that even if the mounted heads were still present, Harry was making good progress on getting most of the unsavory artifacts out of the house. "Maybe McGonagall would let you bury them at Hogwarts." She paused. "I wonder what happens to all the house-elves at Hogwarts when they pass."

"I don't know. I never thought to ask."

Draco took in the surroundings. It wasn't the sort of place he'd ever pictured Potter in. He could see the remnants of darker days here, and their presence still permeated the place.

"Dudley's just through here," Harry said, leading them into the drawing room, where a young blonde man, the same age as the rest of them, was being served small sandwiches by an elderly house-elf. He looked at the house-elf with some measure of discomfort, but seemed willing to take the sandwiches. "Dudley, this is my friend Hermione, and this is Draco Malfoy. My cousin Dudley." He looked between the two blondes for a moment. "Malfoy tormented me at school, Dudley tormented me at home. You two have a lot in common," he said, trying for a light mood.

Dudley shook hands with Hermione and Draco. "Good to meet you." He looked at Draco. "You tormented him at school?" he asked, finding that a bit of a bizarre introduction.

"He was just such an easy target."

Dudley chuckled nervously. "He was. You're both wizards?"

"Technically, I'm a witch," Hermione pointed out.

"And Draco's a wizard, but he's living the Muggle life these days."

Draco snorted. "Thanks for rubbing salt in that wound, Potter."

"But you're just such an easy target," Harry echoed.

The three of them joined Dudley in sitting down to some sandwiches. Kreacher turned to them. "Will Master Harry be needing anything else?"

"Drinks, please, Kreacher."

The elf bowed low and disappeared with a crack. Dudley flinched a little. He muttered, "Sorry. Still not quite…used to it."

Hermione broke the ice. "It's okay. You should have seen Draco the first time I took him on the underground."

"The first time I traveled by fireplace, I choked and ended up saying the wrong word. I came out in Knockturn Alley instead of Diagon Alley," Harry said.

Draco looked incredulous. "You went to Knockturn Alley?"

"Not one of my shining moments. I'm not sure how I would have found my way out if I hadn't run into Hagrid," Harry admitted.

The four of them managed to cobble together a conversation, despite the awkwardness of some of the past histories, and the different backgrounds they all came from. At one point, Draco found himself talking about adapting to life without magic. "I suppose it gives me an idea what the two of you must have endured when you entered the wizarding world," he said to Hermione and Harry.

Dudley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "You've all gotten to live both lives. I know magic exists and I couldn't have it if I wanted it. I don't…but even if I did…I couldn't." He noticed Harry was looking at him as if he'd never seen him before. "I think…I think that's what may have happened with our mums. Not that mine would ever admit it, especially if it was true. But I think your mum could do something that was just totally out of her reach…" He trailed off. Emotional waters and family crises weren't his usual stream of navigation. He eyed Kreacher nervously whenever he was in the room.

The afternoon passed with varying degrees of comfort and discomfort. They mostly tried to find common ground. The look on Potter's face made Draco realize that he was glad not to have to try and carry the conversation himself. Hermione seemed to be particularly adept at bridging the gap, though Draco found he could manage it if he turned the conversation the right way, generally with a comment either at his own expense, or occasionally Harry's. The grateful look on Hermione's face for keeping the conversation going, seemed worth it, even when he had to let the lot of them laugh at him.

Eventually, enough time seemed to have passed to have called the visit complete, and Dudley announced that he had to go. Harry walked him to the door and then came back and sat back down with relief. "Thanks. I want this to work. It's just hard to know what to say sometimes. We've just led separate lives for so long."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I know. It used to be like that if I went home for the holidays. It was hard to find things to say to my parents, let alone any extended family that might want to see me. Sorry, Aunt Rose, can't tell you anything about my classes. Or friends. Or what I might want to do when I leave school." There was a tinge of bitterness to her voice, but most of it was lost in the resignation. It was just the way things were.

"Well, do you want dinner? Or want to do anything?" asked Harry.

Draco looked at his watch and smiled ruefully. "Can't. I'll hardly have time to get home and change before heading to work as it is."

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm ready to get home. But I promise to come back another time. Not letting you hide away again."

They said their goodbyes and Harry gave them directions to the nearest tube stop. Draco chuckled as he boarded the train, and Hermione gave him a questioning look. After a moment, he answered, "As miserable as this used to make me, I never would have imagined that there'd be a form of transportation I hated more than this. I'd ride this for hours if it kept me off that bus."

Hermione chuckled. "We ought to go to the airport one day and watch the planes take off. I think you'd be impressed by Muggle flying machines," she told him quietly, hanging onto the same pole as he was.

"It still astounds me that they have anything like that."

In far less time than either of their trips on the Knight Bus, they were off the tube and walked the short distance back to their flats. Draco had work to get ready for, and Hermione had some letters to write.

After two being looked after at the Weasleys, Draco found work particularly taxing to go back to. It wasn't so much the work itself, as the customers. They grated on his nerves. It didn't help to know that he was stuck in the restaurant while Hermione was at her flat.

He was kept busy all evening, but watching the couples out on date night made him wonder where he'd take Hermione on a date. He knew exactly where he would take her if he had his magic and galleons at his disposal. He'd wear his best robes—the ones that matched his eyes perfectly, and were made with arcromantula silk. He could take her to a restaurant so exclusive, most witches and wizards didn't know about it, and of those who did, only a fraction could get in.

What could he offer her right now? Dinner at his flat in a hand knitted Molly Weasley sweater?

Somehow it didn't have quite the same suave charm that he normally strove for. He'd make it work. Somehow. He put a charming smile on his face for the couple at the next table as he cleared away their plates. Malfoys were adept at getting what they wanted; however, whether or not what they wanted was always good idea, was another matter entirely.

Still, he was starting to understand what it was he wanted, and that was a good step towards getting it.

Saturday morning, there was a knock on Draco's door. He'd just finished cleaning Xavier's cage. It was rather noxious (to say the very least). He was still feeling fairly grimy as he answered it, sweaty and smell of bird poop and disinfectant. Of course, Hermione was on the other side of the door.

"Morning," she said. "I was just thinking of going out for groceries. After a few days away, there's not much in my fridge. Do you want to go?"

Draco blinked at her. "Can't you smell me? I can't go anywhere right now."

Hermione laughed. "I generally don't make it a habit to sniff people. If you didn't remember, I did live in a tent with two teenage boys for a year. I've tried over look the whole order thing."

"Well, I can't go out like this. If you want to wait twenty minutes for me to shower I'll go, but otherwise, go without me."

The brunette decided to wait and go with him. It wasn't like she had to rush to be anywhere else.

Monday night found Hermione and Neville having dinner at her flat. It had been good catching up with one another, but Hermione had one more question she wanted to ask, and she wasn't sure how to say it. "Neville, I'd like to ask you a personal question. And I'm afraid it may be totally inappropriate, but I don't know who else to ask. If it is totally inappropriate, or you don't want to answer, I understand."

He shook his head. "Hermione, just ask. If I don't want to answer, or can't answer, I won't. But it's you. And I'm me. So I'll probably answer." He gave her a bit of a lopsided grin.

She took a slow breath and let it out again. "I miss my parents. I've thought about trying to find them—see them from a distance maybe—but I can't bear the thought of them not knowing me. How do you stand it?"

Neville got very still. "You were right. I'm not sure that's an appropriate question. But I'll try." It was a long time before he managed to put another set of words together. "I think it's different for me. I've never known my parents any other way. I know they used to be different. I've heard the stories. I've see the newspaper clippings. But they've never recognized me or known who I was. Your parents…your parents watched you grow up. And all of that that mattered so much to you, and still matters to you…they have no idea." He shrugged a bit helplessly. "Your parents are also off living a completely normal life, without you. Mine aren't. They're exactly where they've been for the last 17 years."

Hermione's voice was very small, and gentle. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

The young man looked at her across the table. "I've mostly come to terms with it, Hermione. If anyone else had asked me, I might not have answered. I've never quite given up them. I still go. I talk to them. But I don't expect to be anything more than—hopefully—some small comfort during the time I'm in front of them. I go as much for me as for them. I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't go."

Hermione rested her fingertips on his arm. "Thanks, Neville."

"I didn't do anything."

"You're here. And you answered my question." She stood up and went to get dessert from the kitchen. "Are you coming to New Year's Eve on Wednesday?"

"I don't know. The new term will be starting up soon, and I've got some lesson's to plan and…I don't know."

"Come. I promise it'll be a pretty quiet evening. Ginny said she's coming, and I think I've roped Harry in. Draco has to work, so he won't be by until later."

"I'll think about it," he promised.

Draco sighed mentally. He had been pleased to find out that he had Tuesday night off this week—though he wished he could have had Wednesday. He'd considered asking Hermione out on a date, but he still hadn't come up with anything better than dinner in a Weasley sweater. He'd think of something.

He supposed it was just as well. When Hermione had found out he was free tonight, she'd asked for help preparing for the party tomorrow. So far he'd assisted in getting and hauling groceries, making mashed potatoes, and chopping vegetables. Hermione looked at him with a smile. Even if he was chopping vegetables all night, it wasn't such a bad way to spend the evening.

"Thanks for helping. I still have to go to Belby's tomorrow, and the joke shop is going to be open, so I should go by and help out."

"Anytime." He slid the carrots off the cutting board and reached for the celery. "How do Muggles usually celebrate New Year's? Are carrots traditional?" he asked, half joking.

Hermione chuckled. "Not exactly. New Year's Eve tends to be a big night for gatherings. Some people like small family gatherings, which is what I feel like this will be. Other people like to go and party hard; get roaring drunk with lots of strangers. That never quite sounded like my idea of a good time." She was working on a nice gooey mac and cheese. She figured her best bet was to make everything tonight and reheat it tomorrow. "There are other traditions. People like to make resolutions on New Year's Eve and promise to keep them through the next year. There's usually a kiss at midnight. Some people do fireworks. I think we'll all have a good time right here."

"You're planning to fill the flat with Gryffindors, and you think that'll be a good time?" he asked.

"That's not fair. I invited a Ravenclaw—she's just not coming. Besides, you seemed to enjoy yourself at the Burrow. You don't get much more Gryffindor than the Weasley family. Besides, it won't be a big crowd. Lee's dragging George off to a party somewhere, so it should just be us, and Harry, Neville, and Ginny."

"You're sure you want to ring in the New Year with an convicted war criminal in your flat?" he asked.

"New beginnings. Wouldn't want it any other way."

New beginnings it was. Maybe he'd get around to that whole date thing in the new year. He cleared the celery off the cutting board and look around. "Anything else?"

"A glass of wine?"

"Done," he said, knowing where both the bottle and the glasses lived. They each drank a glass in companionable silence, tidying up the kitchen as Hermione put the dishes away until tomorrow.

Author's Note: Next chapter: New Years Eve with our favorites.