Chapter seven: Alliance

Hermione was thrilled.

Adrian was actually smiling. A warm glow had settled in her chest, and she was feeling more than a little smug.

Before their meeting, she'd double-checked that her appointment at the animal shelter was still standing, and then apparated to meet Adrian at the building of red brick where they conducted their sessions.

"Good morning," she'd said briskly, trying not to feel slighted at his mute nod, "I thought we'd go off-site today, if you don't mind."

If she'd hoped that would result in dialogue, she would have been disappointed. Adrian had cocked his head curiously, but took her proffered hand and allowed her to apparate them to the animal shelter.

At least he trusted her that much, Hermione'd thought.

She'd brought him in without a word of explanation, signed in with the lady at the front desk, and led him to the yard at the back where they let the dogs run. Adrian's eyes lit up, and Hermione had tried not to feel too complacent as he looked between her and the puppies, obviously eager to go say hello.

She'd shooed him towards a friendly-looking Siberian Husky, and he'd been playing with the dogs ever since.

Eventually, a fluffy menace whose species she couldn't identify pulled her into the fray, and she found herself throwing a ball for a group of eager canines while Adrian lavished attention upon the more cuddly puppies.

"I've never had a pet," Adrian eventually said, and Hermione looked at him cautiously. His eyes were on the Samoyed that was sprawled in front of him, but he kept talking. "My mother was allergic to dander."

Internally, Hermione was thrilled, but she simply replied calmly, "Would you like a pet in the future?"

"Yeah," he said softly. "I would."

A moment of silence passed, and then Hermione ventured cautiously, "They need someone to volunteer with the dogs, here. Give them exercise, feed them, baths, that sort of thing. Would you… would you like to give it a try?"

She held her breath, waiting for his reply.

Adrian finally looked at her, and the expression on the older man's face was no longer wary, just calm. "I'd like that very much."

…

Hermione left the animal shelter with a spring in her step. Finally, she'd had a success! Harry's idea of taking notes had been a good idea after all. She'd simply had to apply her mind to the problem and voila! She hoped that her other ideas would also bear fruit.

"Hey! Hermione!" she heard from behind her. Well, speak of the devil…

She turned and was met with the sight of Harry and Blaise Zabini walking towards her. Curious, but she assumed that they'd just come from a counseling session themselves. She smiled at Blaise politely, and greeted Harry with affection.

"Hey, Potter," she grinned at him. "How are you doing?"

"Well, thanks," Harry said. "You remember Blaise-"

"Charmed," Zabini said, bowing ever so slightly. Hermione surveyed him, surprised at his good manners.

"How come you got the good one?" she teased Harry.

"Oh, come off it, it isn't like Millicent Bulstrode is a ray of sunshine," he retorted.

They laughed, Blaise included, and settled down to make light conversation. Hermione's initial impression of Zabini was that he was cautious, polite, but warmed up once he determined you weren't a threat. They discussed the finer points of Transfiguration theory in detail before Harry intervened.

"Alright, now you can owl Hermione to talk shop, since I only understand about a word in ten," he complained, though the quick glance he sent to Hermione was a plea to allow just that. Understanding completely, Hermione smiled and confirmed the offer to Zabini, which got a tentative smile in return.

These Slytherins, she mused, all acted as though they were walking on eggshells.

"You owe me," she told Harry after Blaise had departed, and he smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, speaking of, have you made any progress?" he asked of her in a low voice.

"Yeah," she said with a grin and an elbow to his ribs. "I took notes."

…

Draco was in the kitchen, struggling with a tin of tomatoes for pasta sauce, when Blaise found him once more.

"You do realize you're a wizard, right?" his friend asked dryly, and Draco sighed and reached for his wand, opening the tin with ease.

"You do realize that this isn't your house, right?" he retorted, gesturing to a seat all the same and returning his focus to the tomatoes.

"You seem distracted," Blaise said, sitting at the kitchen counter and popping some of the tomatoes into his mouth. Draco wrinkled his nose, put the tin out of reach, and continued working without saying a word. Blaise would get to the point eventually.

"House elves got you down? Or is it the Torment Evil Slytherins Program?"

"Neither, actually," Draco said, frowning at the pasta. "The rehab program isn't that awful. I've been pondering an idea about the future. Speaking of, how's Transfiguration going?"

"Transfiguration is great," Blaise enthused. "Granger gave me some ideas. But what's this about your future?"

Draco ducked into a cupboard, couldn't find a strainer, and then gave up and Vanished the water. As he was plating the pasta, he told Blaise about Ollivanders, and the Ministry closing it down, and the beginnings of an idea that was growing in his mind – to rebuild Ollivanders himself.

Blaise, a true friend, listened the whole way through.

"If you're going to become a wandsmith, you need to apprentice to someone," he pointed out. "But you've always been good at that sort of finicky work – " – he eyed Draco artistically arranging the cheese – "-so I bet you can do it."

"But where do I find a wandsmith?" Draco groaned.

"You know where, Draco," Blaise said quietly. "But I know you can fix that, too."

…

After Blaise had gone with a promise to get together once more, Draco found himself staring at the dishes forlornly, feeling incredibly morose. Weren't friends supposed to cheer you up?

The wandsmith he had to contact was Ollivander himself…

…And that was the murky past, standing between Draco and any hope of reaching his dreams.

He knew Ollivander. The wandsmith had been imprisoned and tortured in the dark recesses of Malfoy Manor not that long ago, and Draco had fed him and escorted him between rooms, like a good little Death Eater lackey. He had been too cowardly to free him.

Now Ollivander was gone, (recuperating in the countryside, as rumor had it), his shop was on the edge of being destroyed, and it had fallen to Draco to fix it. Draco wanted to fix it.

But could Ollivander ever forgive him? Would this ever work?

"It couldn't possibly work," he told himself aloud. Draco was an ex-Death Eater, a war criminal, and a coward. The wizarding world, which hadn't been hurt by him in the least, refused to forgive him – the hate mail he still received was evidence of that. He could not possibly expect a man who he had hurt to do so.

Draco scowled at the soap suds, sure that he was beyond redemption. The old litany – he was too young, he didn't know better, it was his duty – bubbled in his stomach, threatening to rise.

He wanted to break things. He wanted to scream.

And then he remembered his first wish, the one he'd told Granger.

"I would like the chance to fit in."

Draco took a deep breath.

And another.

His hand clenched around a glass, but instead of throwing it at the floor, he gently deposited it in the sink, and started to scrub it clean, forcing his anger down the drain.

He'd do the dishes by hand today. Tomorrow, he'd write a letter. And then, he'd wait for a miracle.

After all, Draco mused, focusing on the rhythmic scrubbing, everyone wished for a miracle.

…

A/N:

So, a little more of everyone and a healthy dose of angst, though no Draco/Hermione this time. I have a story arc planned for Pansy and a few others who haven't been introduced, as well as all the characters we've seen already, but we'll get there! I hope you like what you've seen so far.

Also, puppies. Because why not.

Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favourites! I'm thrilled that you all like it so far.

See you soon,

Isefyr