Chapter Five: Neutral Country

Hermione frowned at the potion in front of her.

It was a bright shade of pink instead of the pale teal that it was supposed to have reached, and she wasn't sure where she had gone wrong. Reading through her instructions again, she groaned. It said stir six times counterclockwise and she had read clockwise.

"Bollocks," she yawned, making a conscious effort not to rub her eyes, as her hands still carried faint traces of the dandelion powder and asp venom she had been using.

It was the second time she'd messed up this potion. Admittedly, it was tricky, and most Apprentices wouldn't even be attempting it at this stage. Hermione, however, had completed three years of study in one year, and so her teacher had asked her to prepare the Amplification Cordial as a sort of "end of term" test.

Hermione knew exactly why her mind was wandering, though, and it was all the fault of the Ministry and their bloody Slytherin program. Her three charges were all proving problematic, and even her analytical mind wasn't sure how to help them.

Or to help herself.

Sighing loudly, she sat back on her heels, doused the fire below her cauldron, and surveyed the potion of hot pink that was present there. Hermione stared into the swirling surface without seeing it, trying to keep her eyes from closing.

Pansy and Hermione had continued with their sparring, and while Hermione felt better afterwards and so did Pansy, they still hadn't been able to discuss Pansy's community service and feelings about the war without a screaming match.

Adrian had made a little bit of progress: he actually spoke to her now… at their last meeting; he'd asked what time he was allowed to leave.

Draco was the most confusing of all.

He never did what she expected him to: pushing just to tease her and being utterly polite exactly when she expected the opposite. Since their first head-to-head, they hadn't gone beyond the surface of things, and Hermione knew that they'd have to. Some day soon, if either of them were going to make progress, they were going to have to discuss the all-too-recent past, so they could make a go at the future.

And that was another troubling tendency of hers, she mused, starting to refer to Malfoy and herself as a group.

She vanished the potion with a lazy twitch of her wand and stood up. She wasn't going to get any further tonight.

…

"I just don't know where I'm going with them," Hermione admitted to Harry one morning over tea. It had become a habit of theirs, meeting to share a cup between Harry's assignments and her own. "Are you having any better luck?"

"A little bit," Harry admitted, "But if I'd gotten Malfoy and Parkinson I probably wouldn't have gotten as far as you."

Hermione groaned in frustration and dropped her head to the table. "Yeah, but I'm not even making progress with Adrian. How are you doing it?"

Harry considered this for a moment, absent-mindedly stirring his tea.

"Well, it has to do a bit with their personalities," he said slowly. "For example, Zabini is actually very smart, and very eager to do what he needs to do to rise in the world. So he listens, and follows instructions, and all that. I assigned him to be a teaching assistant for some of the professors at Hogwarts – grading papers, you know – and he actually seems to be really enjoying it."

Hermione waited patiently, knowing that Harry would get to the point eventually.

"So what I did is just," Harry's ears went a bit pink and he scratched his neck, looking sheepish, "I sat down and made notes on the three of them and then figured out what would suit them best."

"Harry Potter," Hermione grinned, "You actually made notes?"

"Yeah, yeah, come off it," he mumbled. "The point is, they're not just Slytherins. They've got other traits too."

"You're very insightful today," she said admiringly. "Harry Potter, all grown up."

"I am not!" he said indignantly, and stuffed an entire pastry into his mouth to prove it.

…

Draco was in the middle of spring-cleaning when Blaise dropped by.

He surveyed the apron Draco had pulled out of a cupboard with a sly grin, but didn't say anything, as Draco's warning glare could have singed the feathers off of an owl. Instead, he hollered up at him, "Oi, Draco! D'you think you could stop dusting off your great-aunt twice removed and help out an old friend?"

Draco paused in the midst of dusting off the family portraits – and it was his second cousin he was dusting off, thanks very much – and looked down at the smiling Italian. "What's in it for me?"

Blaise grinned up at him, and Draco relented, coming down the ladder. He smacked Blaise with the feather duster for good measure, took off his apron, and led Blaise to the empty kitchen.

"House-elves have a holiday?" Blaise asked, accepting a mug of coffee.

"Ministry's interviewing them," Draco said shortly. "Some kind of house-elf rights census or whatever."

They both knew better – it was the Ministry, trying to keep tabs on Draco – but Blaise merely nodded and bypassed the topic for slightly safer waters.

"So, I had a favor to ask." He looked enquiringly at Draco.

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, and Blaise continued. "I was wondering if you still had that list of Masters that they gave us at our graduation. I'm pretty sure that I chucked it away, but I wanted to get in contact with a Transfiguration Master."

"I probably still have it around," Draco said absently. "Why?"

"Well-" Blaise looked a little abashed. "I was thinking about trying to get a Transfiguration Mastery."

He looked a little nervous, like Draco would scoff at him, but Draco merely smiled. "Good for you," he said warmly, and Blaise blinked. "What made you want to take it?"

"Well," Blaise said, still a little hesitant (Which was ridiculous, by the way, it's not like Draco never talked about his dreams – oh wait -) "You know that I'm working with Potter, right?"

For the Slytherins are Evil and Need to be Rehabilitated Program. Draco nodded.

"He has me working as a teaching assistant for McGonagall," Blaise said, building up enthusiasm, "And I'm really enjoying it. Like, I never enjoyed being in class that much, but now that I have to mark papers and look up some of the concepts and research, I'm really fascinated. And I just want to move forward with my life, you know?"

Draco did know.

"Good for you, mate," he said, clapping Blaise on the shoulder. "I'll see if I can find that list."

…

Blaise left an hour later, list clutched in his hand, and Draco washed the coffee mugs and thought about what he was going to do with his life.

Truth is, he'd sort of just been drifting aimlessly, with nothing very certain but the rage and loss that he'd been carrying around in a little knot at his heart. The job at the bookstore had been one step forward, he thought, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to take another, but it was something to think about. He just wasn't sure where to go next. Or even if he was ready.

He pondered this as he finished dusting off the Malfoy portraits (they got rather loud when they were dusty, and Draco preferred a quiet house) and put away the ladder. He was no closer to an answer when he went to bed, still feeling a little confused.

He sat straight up in bed in the small hours of the morning with a thought – Granger would know what to do.

His next thought was Draco, you cannot possibly be serious.

…

A/N:

Again, all I can do is apologize for my updating at a snail's pace.

However, I'm all done classes for the year, so I do intend to update more as of today.

Thank you very much for being so patient with me! I've gotten a number of reviews over the last month or so which have spurred me to write, and this chapter has actually been slowly pieced together as a result of that prompting, so thank you for your comments and your patience!

See you in the next chapter !

-Isefyr