Hermione, Ginny and Ron met with Draco later during the week when his schedule was clear. He had agreed to let them meet at his house, if only to see the look of confused disbelief on Ron's face. He had excused himself to the kitchen, a polite host even in the oddest of company, and returned with drinks. He had to stop himself from staring at the odd sight the three Weasleys made, settled on his living room furniture and looking very out of place.

"So. You owe me an explanation." Draco said, sitting in his favourite armchair.

"We owe you-? Now just a minute, Malfoy, we don't-"

Hermione cut off her husband's tirade. "You have every right to back out of helping us once it's all been explained, but once you've agreed, you're committed, is that clear?"

Draco nodded, a tight movement that was barely visible, and Ginny sniffed loudly at him. He turned to look at her and she held his stare defiantly, beginning the tale of Harry's detrimental state of both mind and body.

"After the war, Harry was obviously physically, mentally and magically drained. He slipped into a coma for two months, and when he finally woke up, he was unable to move or perform simple magic. It took him another year to get both his physical and magical health back, all the while suffering from debilitating nightmares and depression." Ginny said.

Hermione nodded. "He has – had – a hero complex, as I'm sure you know, stemming from expectations of the wizarding community and his childhood. That's not something I can explain to you, it's his story, not mine. Anyway, he blamed himself for every death suffered at the hands of Voldemort and his followers, and he hated himself for every life he took as well. When he finally destroyed Voldemort his body shut down, but his mind was conscious, and it's possible that during his coma he pushed himself into a state of madness."

"As it was," Ron cut in, "when he did finally wake up it took seventeen fully trained mediwizards to control the outburst of uncontrolled magic he let loose – it was only after his initial...explosion...that he was unable to use magic very much at all. He shattered wards all around the hospital and almost took out all four walls of the room he was in. We managed to calm him down, and for a while, despite his physical and magical cripples, he was relatively normal, though the nightmares couldn't have helped."

"We think," Hermione began again, "that after years of having no one to rely on but himself, after having friends in Hogwarts, the shock of the battle and the death toll...well it was like a bomb, Malfoy. But this one imploded. He's withdrawn completely into himself. He doesn't sleep – if he does, he has nightmares."

"He used to nod off for ten minutes and wake up screaming – that night you came over, he was muttering, something like a whisper, but we're pretty sure he's screamed himself hoarse and just never bothered making a sound afterwards. He barely eats, his magic is up to full strength but he never uses it unless he gets really frustrated or terrified, and then we have to literally throw him into a room that's specially warded to contain his magical fits." Ginny looked like she was about to cry now; certainly her voice was getting higher and more neurotic.

"And where do I fit in with all of this? I'm no Healer."

"No," Ron agreed, "but you're a right foul git, and you know exactly what to say and do to provoke a reaction out of him. Any reaction."

"As well as that," Hermione said, a little more timidly, and then trailed off. She shared an awkward, shameful look at Ron and Ginny, and Malfoy sneered.

"You want me to not only attempt to fix him, because of your futile attempts at keeping him sane, but you want me to babysit him as well, don't you? You want to live your own lives so you pawn him off on me, is that it?"

They did not, to his surprise, rise to the bait. "In a sense, yes," Ginny replied quietly. "But we don't want to remove him from the Manor, not after all the hospitality he showed us in his years of lucidity. We don't want to cut off contact with him entirely, but we've tried everything, and unfortunately," her mouth twisted, "you're the only one left. We've tried half the bloody wizarding community, Malfoy."

"What do I get out of it?"

They gaped at him, and he shrugged.

"I don't do something for nothing, particularly when it involves constant contact with the lot of you, and I'm assuming I'm going to have to be with the bloody heroic prat even more. Tell me this - why should I?"

"I suppose 'out of the goodness of your heart' isn't a phrase that can be used with you, is it, you git?" Ron snapped. Draco chose to ignore it.

"We can pay you." That was Ginny.

"There is no amount of money in the world that could convince me to assist and spend time with Potter."

There was a pause. He watched them as they went through all possible bribes, knowing they had little, if any, ammunition to use. In fact, Draco himself was wondering what would convince him to do such a thing.

"You'll get to bully him again. Just think of all the terrible things you can hold against him now."

"Hermione!" Ginny gasped, "What a horrible thing to suggest!"

For once, Draco was inclined to agree. It was an odd thing to say, especially since much of their old rivalry was buried in a cautious, polite workmate status.

Hermione shrugged, her gaze tearful but determined. "Well, getting tormented by Malfoy could hardly push Harry into this extreme a withdrawal, since he's used to it."

Draco felt highly insulted, but seethed inwardly. "And you think I'm heartless enough that, after working with him during the war, I would just ignore everything he did for me and my family and-" he trailed off, seeing where Hermione had been heading.

"You bitch." He muttered. He owed – owed! – Harry his mother's life and his estate, not to mention the trial where he had been cleared of all charges where someone else might have left him to rot in Azkaban. "I still want something out of it though."

Hermione paused. "I heard you asked Stratton to transfer to the Potions department."

Draco leaned forward slightly, suddenly interested. "Go on."

"He said he only turned down your application because no one wanted you to leave the Auror division."

Draco felt his mouth move into a thin line. Irritating fool. Being an Auror was fun enough and the pay was good, but his true interests lay in potion-making. The pay was just as good, and if you knew what you were doing – which Draco definitely did - the work was safer.

Hermione sensed the change in his attitude. "As the Minister of Magic, I could…"

"Pull strings." It wasn't a question.

"Effective immediately if you agree."

"…I must admit I cannot say no to that."

"Just talk to him, rile him up, just don't hit him." Ron muttered.

"Fine, fine," Draco had snapped back, "but damned if I have to stay in the Manor though."

"No, it shouldn't come to that…he…doesn't really go anywhere to begin with. We…only bring him to Ron and Hermione's house, and we do that very rarely." Ginny said quietly.

"He has a little safety spot in his own room, you can pull him out of it if you feel it's necessary. Check his breathing, if he starts hyperventilating you need to calm him down. If you need help send a Patronus, fire-call, send an owl, anything", Hermione added. "I'll be over at the Manor tomorrow morning with some information on his condition for you."

"And exactly where is this Manor?" Draco asked bitterly. "I haven't been there since I was quite young."

There was a pause, and then Hermione nodded to herself and extracted a piece of paper from her jeans pocket. It said, in slightly blurry writing, 'Number 12, Grimmauld Place'.

"No one can reveal its location but Harry and the three of us. It's unplottable as well."

Draco stared at her, remembering her reluctance to discuss his home over dinner. "And you're trusting me with this all of a sudden, are you?"

She gave him a hard look them. "Why? Are you thinking of doing something devious?"

"Always."

"Then we will know exactly who to look for if something happens, now won't we?"

Draco could find no reply to that, and settled for shooing them out. And with that, he was left to mope in a most undignified, un-Malfoy-like manner in the privacy of his own home.