Author's Note: I'm sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up. Last week was intense. Insanity at work, my phone in for repair, my car in for repair…it was a very long week. I finally managed to start writing again this weekend and ended up with a couple of one-shots. There's a new chapter up on Exhausted, which is a series of one shots about characters being fed up with the expectations of everyone else. And a new one shot I Know You that I'm kind of excited about. I had this crazy plot bunny about Vernon Dursley, Lily Evans, and a big secret and…well, it came out. I'm also contemplating changing my name on here. Would that be hugely confusing or a pain?

Chapter 35: Sly

The world outside Draco and Hermione's flats finally started to thaw at last. The joke shop got busy as students came home from Hogwarts for the Easter holidays. They still didn't have the kinks worked out of the mirror yet. Work with her apprenticeship piled on, though she was now making her first independent batches of Wolfsbane potion on her own. Draco had found his stride at the library, though he was already starting to dread the summer programs Theresa wanted to implement and wanted him to help plan. A whole summer full of small children awaited him. Small children with sticky fingers who would wrinkle, tear up, or otherwise destroy the books he was responsible for.

Or not. He didn't have to do anything after July 31. His sentence would be up. He'd have his magic back. Everything would change.

Narcissa sent a letter to Hermione with a note in it for Draco. France was still lovely, she was still keeping busy, and the hint of spring on the air had her thinking about her son's homecoming. She was of the mindset that they ought to have a big party for the reopening of Malfoy Manor and wanted a list of friends, former classmates, and associates Draco would like invited.

It took a great deal of willpower for Draco to neatly fold the letter and set it aside rather than crumpling it up. "She's not even back in the country for another four months and she's already trying to start running my life again," he huffed.

Hermione was torn between amusement and exasperation. "Well, you've always let her do it before. She's got no reason to think you might actually want to start running it yourself now or object to her plans."

"But I do object."

"She doesn't know that." She paused by his chair rubbing his shoulders for just a moment before taking her own seat. "What are your plans?"

He sighed, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He was torn between wanting to immediately make plans, to have something to drive him on…and his (not nervousness, Malfoys were never nervous) apprehension made him inclined to spend the next few months as though nothing would change and just deal with everything as it happened. Maybe he was picking up some bad Gryffindor habits. The Slytherin in him would have been plotting and planning from the start. "I don't know. Burke and Caffrey said August 1 I'm due back at the Wizengammot. If they haven't found me to be in violation of the terms of my sentence, they should give me my magic back. I'll have access to the family vaults again. I won't actually have to work."

"But you want to, don't you? I can't imagine spending all day doing nothing."

Draco shrugged. "Having a reason to put clothes on and get out of the house every day isn't a bad idea, but where would I go? My family isn't in the same position we were a year ago. I can't imagine the Ministry would want me for anything, not even as an entry level parchment sorter. I'm not trained for any specific fields. I don't want to start a business. The two things I do know are that I want to be with you, and I'm not moving back into the Manor. Everything else can wait."

"You're going to have to make a decision sooner or later," she said, gently.

"But not right now."

"It may be useful to at least tell your mother that you don't want a welcome back party."

He made a noncommittal sound. If he objected, his mother might take it as a challenge. The odds of her respecting his wishes if she thought she knew better were not good.

"Unless you do want one?" Hermione hoped she didn't sound as nervous as she felt. The thought of having to walk back into Malfoy Manor for any reason…her hand gripped her arm without her realizing it, covering up the place where her skin had been carved by Bellatrix's knife.

"Salazar, no. I'd rather no one notice me back in the wizarding world until they've forgotten I ever left."

She snorted softly. "You and me both. And Harry." She shook her head. None of it really bore dwelling on.

He decided a change of subject was urgently needed. "Have you figured out how you're going to distribute that muck you're brewing?" he nodded in the direction of a nearby cauldron, simmering.

"Not yet. I've thought about bringing it to St. Mungo's and leaving it for anyone who needed it or requested it, but the people who really need it are the ones who won't go to St. Mungo's. Or to an apothecary. I don't even know where to start. I need somewhere where I can make the potion available to them all for free, and a way to get people to actually come use it." She growled in frustration. "They're not all like Greyback. And even the people who have been living at the edges…they haven't been given other options. Other chances. Remus was able to go to Hogwarts, but how many people got kicked out or hidden by their families as children, or locked up because of what they were. The Ministry's never given them anywhere to go. They never had a chance." Her mouth was set in a determined line. "They deserve a chance. There's a reason Voldemort was able to bring so many people to lycanthropy over to his side. The Ministry's never offered them any sort of support, so when he told them it was all the Ministry's fault…it sounded plausible to them. It gave them a place to channel their anger, their hurt…where are they now? The Ministry hasn't done anything for them. They need somewhere to go. A place to start to have hope."

"So, it sounds like the first thing you need is a place."

"What?"

Draco looked at Hermione. "Well, you may be going about this backwards. You thought the first thing you needed was the potion to draw werw—" he caught the disapproving look on Hermione's face and rolled his eyes, and corrected himself, "people with lycanthropy out so you could help them was to offer a potion they couldn't get any other way. But what are you supposed to do? Put an add in the paper that says, 'Hey, stop by my flat and pick up some free potion so you don't go crazy when the moon is out.' I think you've got to plan bigger. A potion isn't enough to draw them out. They're willing to be wherever they're at. You're going to have to offer more to have them put themselves out there again."

Hermione's mouth hung open for a moment as she stared at him. Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Finally, Hermione spoke. "Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin, you're right. I need more infrastructure. A place to distribute the potion from is just a start. If they're ever to reintegrate with wizarding society they need the magic lessons they never got. And…and…everything." It was overwhelming for a moment. People who'd been on the fringes for decades…how did you even begin to remedy that? "I'll need to arrange housing, and lessons, and food, and medical care and—"

"That's practically a full-time job."

"Oh, Merlin. I can't quit the apprenticeship. There's still so much to learn—major healing potions, and I'm still hoping to find a cure for lycanthropy. I'm going to have to give up on the joke shop. There just aren't enough hours in the day."

Draco scooted his chair closer and took her hand. "Make a plan first before you try to do anything." He leaned forward and kissed her.

She kissed him back, and they stayed together at the table for a while. Hermione's brain churned with the sudden surge of things that would need doing and planning and all the tiers of complication that were suddenly added to what she had hoped was going to be a gradual process. The letters from Narcissa were left forgotten on the table and Hermione's potion boiled over as she forgot about it. It was better to be able to offer something rather than nothing, but was the Wolfsbane potion enough without any other sort of framework? A cure on it's own might be worth while, but she didn't have one and there was no guarantee she ever would.

Most of the rest of the evening was spent cleaning up the mess. To distract Hermione from further dwelling on the things needed for her cause to actually go anywhere, Draco asked about how things were going with the mirror. The technical discussion of the spells involved kept the pair of them occupied until they could hardly keep their eyes open, but by the time Draco went back to his flat, he couldn't sleep.

The owl from McGonagall had invited Hermione to Hogwarts for tea on Saturday afternoon. Hermione had eyed the invitation with distrust. McGonagall already had her agreement on attending the commencement ceremony, so she must be after something else, and it would probably be wisest to decline the tea invitation. However, if she wanted to find a way to get out of the commencement ceremony, it was best done in person and this might be her only opportunity to do so.

With some level of misgiving, Hermione accepted the invitation and found herself in McGonagall's office having tea on Saturday afternoon.

"Thank you so much for joining me, Hermione. It's a pleasure to see you again. I hope all is well?" She poured tea from a silver tea service and offered a platter of cakes and sandwiches, no doubt sent up by the house-elves.

"As well as it can be. I'm quite fully engaged in my apprenticeship these days," Hermione said, demurely helping herself to a tiny pastry.

"Oh, I'd imagine so. I do truly appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to come to the commencement ceremony." She then went on to talk about several of Hermione's former classmates and housemates and how things were going with them.

Hermione found the headmistress was being unusually chatty, but listened all the same, wondering where the catch would come. It came when McGonagall turned the conversation aside again, but not quite in the direction she was expecting.

"So, I understand that you've been assisting Mr. Malfoy in acquainting himself with the rigors of life as a Muggle?" she asked in the same tone of voice with which she'd discussed all of her other students, past and present.

She was startled and bought herself a moment with a sip of tea. "That's right. I wasn't aware that that information was widely known."

There was a thin smile. "I assure you, it's not. I had merely contacted the Ministry to see about extending an offer to Mr. Malfoy to join our classes next term when he has access to his magic again, and I was informed that he is not allowed to receive any messages by owl during this time. It was suggested that I might be able to address him by contacting you. I do hope this hasn't been inconvenient."

"I'd be happy to deliver a letter. By coincidence, we live in the same building for the time being," she said stiffly, wondering what exactly McGonagall knew.

The headmistress gave a thin smile. "I do have a letter prepared, but this sort of request is best made in person, so I was hoping you'd relay the message yourself. You see, I imagine Mr. Malfoy has learned a great deal this year during his time without magic, much as you had something of an awakening on entering the wizarding world. Perhaps even more so. I would like to request Mr. Malfoy's presence at Hogwarts. I feel it would be most beneficial for the students to hear about his experience. The Ministry has already approved a Floo trip for him for the occasion if he agrees. I would like him to come in and speak to each of the classes. It doesn't have to be anything elaborate. Just a little something to generate better understanding between cultures from someone who has gotten to see things from the other side. Muggle-borns have written plenty on the subject from the view point of learning to adapt to wizarding society, but Mr. Malfoy is in a unique position as a Pureblooded wizard having to adapt to life as a Muggle."

Hermione sipped her tea, her mind spinning. McGonagall wanted Draco to come talk to the students? "What sort of tone exactly are you expecting this to take? I can't imagine he'd be real inclined to come stand up in front of the students and say that they shouldn't follow the path of the Dark Arts or they'll be stripped of their magic and have to endure the terrible life of a Muggle?" she asked icily.

The older witch's nostrils flared. "Don't be absurd, Hermione. Mr. Malfoy can say whatever he'd like on the subject. I do feel like whatever he has to say would be enlightening, and it would be an invaluable thing for our students to hear. Will you please at least pass along the message? I know all of us are committed to hoping that the rift between different sections of wizarding society can be healed. There is a long way to go, but understanding could help."

As Hermione nibbled a pastry she felt no appetite for, she couldn't help but think the headmistress had a point. She'd read Draco's book. If he knew at age 11 what he knew now, maybe he would have made other choices. Wasn't it worth telling other people what he knew? Oh Merlin, he wouldn't want to. She could just imagine. "You do understand how difficult it would be for him to come back here, don't you? From an emotional perspective? After everything?"

"I do," she said evenly. "But I believe the benefits outweigh whatever discomfort he may experience. You've come back here, despite all of your resistance. And Harry as well. It's time for Mr. Malfoy to come back and face his demons." Her voice took on a gentler tone. "I think he'd be the better for it. Albus saw something in him. I'm not entirely sure I've seen it myself, but he asked me once to keep an eye on the boy."

"You don't know what you're asking. Asking him to come back after Dumbledore, the Carrows, everything he's lived through…" she trailed off.

There was a tightening around McGonagall's mouth momentarily. "I do know exactly what I'm asking for. I lived through it. Your classmates that came back this year lived through it, and all of the younger students." There was a steely silence for a few minutes, before McGonagall's voice came again, more gently. "I know exactly what it would cost him to come here. But I think the price is worth it."

The worst part was, Hermione wasn't so sure she disagreed. But she couldn't make any promises, wouldn't. "I'll relay the message," she said heavily, "But I can't speak for him. When exactly would you want him to come and give this little talk?"

"Whenever it was convenient for him. We'd like to reach as many students as possible, though I do understand that speaking to the entire student body at once would be a bit nerve-wracking. I thought perhaps speaking to them by house, or by class might be better."

Hermione nodded. "I'll pass your message along."

McGonagall nodded serenely. "I look forward to seeing both yourself and Mr. Potter at the leaving ceremony. And you are welcome to come by any time you'd like before then."

Hermione almost fell for the trap and asked if Harry had committed to coming to the leaving ceremony, but held her tongue. Whatever Harry did or wanted to do and whatever McGonagall was trying to talk him into, she'd have no part of it. She'd come to the ceremony—it wouldn't kill her. And it would be good to be there for Ginny and Luna. She said her farewell and gratefully took the fireplace home.

Draco was looking through some of the things he'd written this year. Just about the only thing that wasn't total garbage was everything he'd written about having to live the Muggle life. Apparently he just wasn't any good at fiction.

He knew he ought to go to the laundromat and have a fresh batch of clothes for the coming week, but he decided it could wait another day. As long as he still had clean underwear and socks, everything else was negotiable as long as he'd ironed it enough to still look presentable. He did still have some standards.

He was just fixing himself some tea when Hermione knocked on the door. His face broke into a smile and he decided maybe wine was a better choice than tea if she'd just finished with McGonagall. He called out, "It's open!" and went to get a couple of glasses and his beverage of choice.

By the time he returned to the living room, Hermione had taken up residence on his couch and removed her coat and shoes.

"Meeting went that well?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. He handed her a glass.

She chuckled weakly and had a sip of her wine. "I almost regret getting you these. There was something charming about having to drink wine in coffee mugs over here."

"If you're using charming as a synonym for barbaric, then I'd have to agree," he said, taking a seat beside her and kissing her on the lips. "How was it?"

"Well, I'll be attending the leaving ceremony. But that's not why she wanted to see me."

"No?"

Hermione shook her head, her hair particularly frizzy with static. "No, she had another goal in mind today. You."

Draco nearly choked on his beverage. "What could she possibly want with me?"

Closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the sofa, Hermione explained.

The blonde was outraged enough to stand up and set his glass down (after a healthy swallow). "I can't believe she wants me to come talk to the students. Parade me around like a bad example. Beware, little firsties, if you're on the wrong side of the law they'll make you live like a barbaric Muggle like the Malfoy boy." He was breathing hard.

She chose to ignore him calling Muggle life barbaric. "I don't think that was the intention. The idea was to show people from the wizarding world what it's like to have the shoe on the other foot. To appreciate the things they take for granted. If you knew even just a few years ago what you know now…are there things you'd have done differently?" She worded the question carefully. It was important. She didn't want to lead him into one answer or the other, but she needed to know.

Draco turned around and looked at her—disheveled hair, not particularly stylish robes, and keen eyes. Would he have tormented the Weasel about not having any money if he'd known what it was like to be on a budget himself? If he'd known then what it meant to work for a living, and to see people give what they had to make things nice for someone else? Would he have mocked Granger's blood status if he'd known just how much it cost her from everything she would have had to integrate into the wizarding world? If he would have realized the value in doing something for someone else? He was quiet for a long time.

Hermione didn't look directly at him. She imagined feeling her stair on him wouldn't help him divine an answer.

Finally, he spoke. "I don't imagine it would have changed everything. Knowing something isn't everything. You can know something is true without it changing how you behave. I probably would have still been selfish. But I might have been a little less of a prat. Made fewer terrible decisions." His attempts to kill Dumbledore still haunted him. Knowing he'd helped Umbridge enforce ridiculous Ministry edicts and seeing students as young as first years come out of detention with bleeding hands. And worse under the Carrows. He shuddered, his chest a little tight. He'd been so wrapped up in everything going on since his sentence last summer, he'd managed to avoid lingering thoughts on the previous year. Or the year before. Or the one before that. Oh Salazar. How many bad decisions could he make in one of lifetime? People were dead.

Hermione sprang up from the couch and wrapped her arms around him, feeling how stiff he was. She murmured in his ear, arms tight around him. McGonagall didn't know what she was asking of him. They stayed like that for a long time, standing and holding one another until Draco started to relax. They hardly said another word that night, but Hermione stayed over, and Draco fell asleep with her stroking his hair.