Hermione really did mean to celebrate the one week Draco had spent living with her and Harry. She had even ordered a cake from the bakery up the lane with the words "one down, 103 to go".

She couldn't have predicted that her two week vacation would be interrupted though by an attack on the wards she had helped set up on a Belgium museum in a would-be theft attempt. So she spent Tuesday in Belgium, reworking the wards and releasing the trapped thief into the custody of local authorities, the one week anniversary forgotten.

So unfortunately the anniversary was moved to Wednesday, when Hermione had other plans.

Draco entered the kitchen wearing dark blue jeans and a deep grey Henley shirt that made Hermione secretly swoon. She never would have invested so heavily in muggle attire for Draco if she had known how good looking he would be in it or how she would react every time he entered the room wearing something else.

Draco, however, was oblivious to the effect he was having on the witch. He took to the muggle clothes much faster than he would have ever expected, pleased by the quality fabrics and the efficacy of the designs. No more dragging lose sleeves through potions or dirty robes dragging along clean carpets for this wizard.

"You're making a lot," Draco said, noticing the flurry of activity in the kitchen. Hermione was chopping up a salad while two others chilled in the icebox; desserts lined the counter top and countless sides, including garlic potatoes to stuffed peppers, filled every inch of the table and newly replaced breakfast nook.

"Yes, well, we're having a barbecue tonight." Hermione replied crisply, peeking into the sink where she had racks of ribs, chicken and salmon, spiced and glazed, floating one on top of the other and waiting to be brought to the grill outside.

"All of this for three people?" Harry asked, entering the room and sizing up the veritable feast in front of him.

"Actually, no." Hermione admitted, setting her knife down. With both boys in the kitchen and their guest already five minutes late, she figured now was as good a time as any to spill. Besides, she still needed to change.

"Granger, who is coming over?" Draco demanded, nervous and a little irritated he wasn't given any heads up. His mood swings had softened in their severity and frequency but it helped that he only had two people to yell at and only so much to yell about. He was finally starting to feel comfortable, but knowing Granger, that just meant he was ready for the next step in the 26 step recovery program laid out in her endlessly working head.

"Ron is coming over," Hermione said to two very loud reactions. Harry cheered, happy his friend was stopping by, while Draco whined loudly.

"See? This is why I didn't tell either of you! You're far too happy about this Harry and don't pretend it isn't in part because Draco's taking it badly."

She glared at both, neither denying her accusations.

"Ron will be here any minute now and I invited him over so be good, both of you. Especially you, Draco, he's coming with something for you." Before she could stand further interrogation, Hermione removed her apron, set it on the appropriate hook, and fled to the second floor.

Harry didn't have the chance to promise Draco he would behave himself before Ron entered the room, having let himself in by floo knowing he was expected and already late, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a large stack of documents in the other. Harry immediately divested his friend of both and gave him a hug, having not seen him in weeks. Draco, still quite sullen, lifted the bottle for inspection and was surprised to see that it was a quality brand and a decent year. He voiced this amazement to Ron, who laughed and took it in stride.

"Well if I picked it out you know it wouldn't be, so be grateful for small favors."

Nothing Draco had ever said – and he had thrown a lot at the youngest Weasley son – had ever rolled off so easily. Something was different. Something was wrong.

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, walking in wearing a tight dress that entirely distracted Draco from his previous train of thought. It was blue, probably with its own special word because it looked like an expensive shade, but all Draco could think was that it looked really short when she raised her arms to hug Weasley.

"Mione! I have everything you asked for, even had Percy help with the Ministry stuff."

She beamed at him and turned to Draco, gesturing for him to follow her as she lifted the bottle of wine Weasley brought with the bundle of documents and walked out to the patio.

"I had Ron go through old news reports I kept following the war for anything you might find useful," Hermione said, taking a seat and summoning wine glasses with a dozy swish of her wandless hand.

That kind of impressive magic should be forbidden in a dress like that.

Draco shook his head, banishing the offensive thought before he could acknowledge it, and looked at the piles in front of him. Small yellow pieces of sticky paper distinguished each folder in front of him, 'Malfoy manor' being the closest to him.

He took it and immediately started riffling through.

"If I remember correctly, they seized your home immediately after the final battle. Once your mother was found cleared of all charges, she was given 24 hours to remove any personal effects and then the manor was closed back up again," Hermione recited from memory.

Draco nodded, seeing reports of items removed from his home, evidence of torture and killing's found in the basement. He shuddered to remember his part in it all but some of this was information he'd already seen.

"I know you were still in London when most of that was being reported, but I figure as you were trying to get to France that you might have been a bit busy."

Draco had tried to get to France, where his family spent several summers of his youth, to apply for political asylum. That was always the family's plan if the war went south; Lucius could only claim Imperious the once, and he had already used it. It was on the night he physically made the dash for the border, his wand having been given a Trace once a warrant for his arrest was issues, that he was assaulted by Aurors hunting any remaining Death Eaters. Draco's wand was snapped quite deliberately in front of him by one Auror, while the other threw him to the ground – dislocating his shoulder – as he arrested him.

"You'll probably never see the inside of the Manor again, but your mum got a lot out with the time she had, and a lot of the antique family stuff she couldn't save was put in Ministry holdings – Percy says it's just sitting there, untouched, and that you could probably petition for most of it back after your parole is served," said Ron, joining the pair at the patio table with a bottle of beer – probably muggle – in hand.

Draco felt uncomfortable with Weasley, having not cursed or insulted him much in the time he was there, and strangely feeling little want to do so.

"There's a lot in here too of what happened after you were arrested and Britain refused to let France give you asylum," continued Hermione, passing over a different folder.

Inside were newspaper clipping of articles he had never gotten to read, most detailing the crimes he was accused of and very few mentioning his age. They criticized, reviled, vilified and degraded him in a series of features, harsh editorials and lengthy courtroom coverage. Draco was disparaged seeing the opinion his own people had of him until Hermione reached over and pointed to a stack sticking out under what he was reading.

"Don't stop until you get through these."

Draco read on and his impression of a wizarding community unified in their hatred for him was shattered. Dozens of letters to the editor and opinion pieces shamed the Ministry for politicizing the trial of a young boy who never should have been part of the war, shamed the Ministry for refusing to let Draco apply for asylum in France or to receive it from a host of other countries that stepped forward and offered, shamed the Ministry for the sham of a trial Draco endured.

He was stunned and strangely touched.