DISCLAIMER: All canon characters and the Harry Potter-verse belong to J K Rowling, and all "Malfoy Ambition" related things belong to Goddess Blue. Everything else belongs to me.

WARNINGS: Female Harry, Draco/Harry pairing, spoilers from possibly all the Harry Potter books, slight OOCness, cliches, and a bit of coarse language that will appear here and there.

A/N: Five words: School. Tests. Projects. Internet Crashed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: BETTER AND BETTER? OR WORSE AND WORSE?

'I am officially exhausted,' Ron moaned as he flopped down on one of the benches in the Great Hall beside Hermione, who had almost fallen asleep at the table.

'Me, too,' Harry agreed wearily, walking up to them. 'And my legs are aching!'

It was past eleven o' clock at night and Harry had just finished doing her part of Seamus' planned "Castle Clean-Up". She had been very surprised to see that over three thirds of the student body had actually volunteered to help the crazy Irishman, who not only had been delighted by their offers of assistance, but had turned the whole affair into another friendship game. He had randomly divided them into pairs consisting of students from different Houses, cuffed the pairs with a binding spell that literally joined their wrists together (Harry did not even want to know where he had learnt the spell), and promised that the three loser pairs that finished cleaning last had a nasty surprise in store for them.

Harry was convinced that his determination to achieve Inter-House Unity was going a little overboard. His game plan felt like the sort of thing that nursery school teachers would assign their bawling toddlers to engage in, for Merlin's sake! But she had to admit that, despite his insanity, Seamus' genius streak was genuine. He certainly had the insight to pair up senior students with younger ones, who had been infected by Seamus' contagious enthusiasm and, thus, had forced the older teens to completely participate.

Harry herself had been paired up with a second year Ravenclaw named Laurence Henson, who had dragged her along the corridors, shrilly screaming 'Scourgify!' at the mud on the walls much to her amusement. In the end, Harry had given in and worked with the young boy. Not only had it been strangely fun, but, as a bonus, she had pretty much acquired a new friend albeit a rather boisterous one.

Another point for Inter-House Unity. Go Seamus, the bizarre mastermind.

By now, most of the students had finished and were gathering at the Hall where Seamus had earlier assured them that the last three pairs to finish would get their promised "nasty surprise". The binding spells on the students had worn off for the most part though a few still had their wrists adhered to their partners'.

Sitting down beside Ron, Harry yawned and asked tiredly, 'So, when is Seamus going to punish the three pairs of losers? He better make it quick because I really want to sleep now.'

'I dunno,' Ron shrugged, looking longingly at the empty table. 'I'm only waiting for the food.'

'What food?' Hermione asked sleepily, lifting her head to look at him.

'Didn't you hear? Seamus promised hot chocolate and cake for everyone that helps him with the cleaning up. Dean said that he had struck up a deal with the house elves.'

'Hot chocolate and cake?' Harry snorted softly. 'That explains why so many students turned up, then.'

She looked around the Great Hall keenly. The students that had worked there had done a really good job, she observed. There was nothing out of place to hint that a group of Elemental Raptors had wreaked havoc there.

'Well,' she mused out loud, 'at least McGonagall can't put Seamus in detention now. He kept his word.'

Hermione nodded with a jaded smile before abruptly turning to Harry. 'Speaking of Professor McGonagall, why did she take you to her office today, Harry?'

'Yeah,' Ron agreed, looking at his best friend curiously. 'Are you in trouble?'

'Why is it that everyone thinks I'm in trouble whenever I'm taken to the office?' Harry rolled her eyes in exasperation before giving them a wry smile. 'Anyway, you'll never believe this, but ... she as good as told me to start the DA again.'

'Wait, what?! Are you serious?' Ron demanded.

Chuckling, she gave them a brief account of the conversation that had taken place in the Headmistress' office during lunch. By the time she had finished, Ron was grinning madly and Hermione was looking at Harry with sparkling eyes.

'That is an excellent idea!' Ron said excitedly. 'I've been missing the DA so much; it was great! So, are you gonna do it, Harry? You said yes, right? Right?'

Even Hermione looked hopeful.

'I dunno, actually,' Harry shrugged, now frowning. 'I mean, I'd probably have to teach hundreds of students this time and I wouldn't even know how to –'

'Oh no, you don't.' Hermione frowned at the black-haired girl. 'Don't even go there, Harry. You did an excellent job teaching the former DA; you're a natural at it! So, don't you think that you can't teach this new lot.'

'Hermione, we're talking about almost the entire school here! How am I supposed to manage them all? I'm not an experienced teacher.'

'I thought Professor McGonagall said that this isn't going to be an official class?'

'Maybe not, but,' Harry argued, 'I'm supposed to help them improve and –'

'Mate, you helped the old DA members improve so much that they practically became warriors by the end of fifth year,' Ron interrupted, raising his eyebrows. 'Didn't you see how they fought in the War? Like Neville, for example? The bloke helped me take down Fenrir Greyback right before you popped You-Know-Who's clogs. You should've seen the damage he did to that werewolf's eyes! But before the DA, he couldn't even balance on his own two feet!'

'Ron!' said Hermione reproachfully.

'What, it's the truth! All I'm saying is, Harry, you can do it ... If you ask me, I'd say you're just being insecure and shy,' Ron finished with a provocative smirk.

'No, I'm not,' retorted Harry crossly. 'I'm just not sure if I can handle teaching so many of them.'

Ron snorted. 'Well, doesn't that sound bizarre coming from the woman who kicked the arse of the most feared dark wizard since the time of Grindelwald!'

'What – that's .... That's completely different! That's like comparing the First Task to the Yule Ball –!'

'Harry,' Hermione interrupted them firmly, looking both amused and irritated at their nonsense. 'Ron is right.'

The red-head smirked at Harry.

'You did a great job handling thirty students before. I think you'll do fine as a Defence tutor even if this one is on a larger scale than the original DA.'

'You really think so?' Harry asked uncertainly, her brows furrowed.

'I think the real question is, do you want to do it, Harry?'

She bit her lip, thinking. The original DA had been one of the best things that had happened to her. It had been the one ray of hope that had kept her going in her fifth year, the promise of rebellion against the blind corruption within the magical community. Along with that, Harry had come to dearly enjoy it. Seeing various students learning new spells under her tutelage, such as Neville finally mastering the Stunning Spell – only a few rare things in life had given her the same satisfaction as that; and, in a way, Harry did want that joy back.

'I ... I suppose,' she answered at length.

'Well, there you have it, then. And I'm sure that you'll be absolutely brilliant at it!'

Harry smiled gratefully at her encouraging words. 'Thanks, Hermione.'

'So, is that all McGonagall wanted?' Ron asked, drumming his fingers on the table top.

'No, she also gave me the list of Gryffindor candidates for the Quidditch team and, I'm telling you, it is bloody long; nearly two hundred names! I'd bet my Firebolt that even some of the first years have sneaked their names in! How else can there be so much?'

'Maybe some of the old firsties that are repeating this year gave their names,' Ron suggested, shrugging. 'They'd be allowed to participate since, technically, they should be in second year now. Ginny and I signed up too, Harry,' he added, looking hopefully at his friend.

'Yes, I saw,' Harry grinned. 'And you two have a fair chance of making it back in ... unless another Cormac McLaggen turns up!' She snorted.

'Shut it, Harry!' Ron scowled at her, injured.

'But of course, if such a one does come to the tryouts, we could always confound him,' Harry continued breezily, this time smirking at Hermione who went red and glared warningly at her.

'Anyway,' Harry went on, now serious, 'we have a little over a month till the first match of the season. So, Ron, Quidditch tryouts this weekend, all right? Spread the word and I'll also put up a notice in the Common Room.'

'OK, but better make it Sunday, Harry. There's a Hogsmeade visit this Saturday.'

'Really?' Harry perked up. 'That's great! It'll be good to get out for a while. OK, Sunday it is, then; at ten thirty on the pitch.'

'Got it.'

Before any more words could be exchanged on the subject, mugs of hot chocolate and platters of cake, éclairs and, oddly enough, French fries appeared on the tables – much to Ron's delight – just as the doors of the Great Hall banged open. Seamus Finnegan, dragging a protesting Dean Thomas by the scruff of his neck, bounced inside followed by five other nervous-looking students.

'All righty, we're done!' He crowed happily as he made his way to the front of the Hall with the others. 'You people are amazing, the castle's spotless! And now, we have the six losers right here awaiting their nasty surprise!' He gestured at Dean and the other five people with a flamboyant wave of his arm. Harry nearly choked on her hot chocolate when she saw that Blaise Zabini, who looked quite calm and mildly amused despite the situation, was also one of the "losers".

Even Blaise took part in this?

The remaining students in the Great Hall broke into catcalls and laughter before a chant of 'Pun-ish-ment! Pun-ish-ment!' rose from amongst them. Most of the others were quick to pick it up as well and Harry watched, bemused, as Seamus stepped up to his best friend with a positively diabolical grin on his face.

'Dean, my dear loser,' he said theatrically, 'you ... are done for!'

With that, Seamus picked up a cake from the nearest table and smashed it into the other's face.

Draco, who stood leaning against the wall of the Great Hall, felt his lips twitch slightly as he watched Blaise coming up to him, covered from head to toe in cake and pie. His friend, however, was not the least bit mortified and beamed at him through his frosting-covered face.

'A food fight?' Draco drawled, glancing at where Seamus Finnegan and some of his admiring followers were cleaning up the food-splattered Great Hall. 'I can't believe that that's the punishment Finnegan gave you and those other "losers". Not only is it immature, but now he has to clean the Hall all over again.'

Blaise shrugged, still grinning. 'He's an eccentric fellow.'

'So I'm seeing. Scourgify,' Draco said lazily, pointing his wand at the other Slytherin. In an instant, his robes, hair and exposed skin were clean and free of all the icing, sugar and chocolate.

'Thanks, Draco.'

The blond merely shrugged before his eyes narrowed in annoyance. 'Now can we please go back to our dormitory? You dragged me to this little cleaning programme nearly four hours ago; I came, I helped, I won, and now I want to go to bed.'

'All right, fine, let's go,' Blaise said with a roll of his eyes, leading the way to the dungeons. 'Though I don't see why you're so irritated, Drake. You've been such an iceberg lately that I thought a little socialising would do you some good. I certainly had fun working with that crazy little Gryffindor kid ... what was his name again? Dennis Creepy, I think.'

Draco snorted contemptuously as they hurried through the winding dungeon corridors. 'Perhaps you had fun, but I didn't!'

'Oh Drake, can't you at least try to loosen up –?'

'I'd like to see if you'd maintain that attitude, Zabini, if you had been the one wrist-bound to that blonde, air-headed Ravenclaw who did less cleaning and more trying to grope my ars–!'

'Hold on a second,' Blaise turned to face him, suddenly grinning widely. 'Would this be that same Ravenclaw who called you "Drakie" in Charms that one time? You got paired up with her tonight?!' He laughed disbelievingly before adding, 'But I thought seniors were paired up with younger students? Isn't she in our year?'

Draco scowled. 'Yes, Blaise, but she's a cunning one. Now you see why I don't appreciate how you physically dragged me down to participate in Finnegan's crazy clean-up scheme! Because, despite what you may think, I don't believe that socialising consists of –'

'Getting molested by a crazy fangirl?'

'Just shut it,' Draco growled, trying to hide his humiliation as he stomped past his friend towards the Slytherin common room.

Blaise followed, snorting with laughter.

Once they had reached their dormitory, Draco let Blaise use the bathroom first to wash off any remaining cake and icing. He settled on the bed and, for lack of anything else better to do till the bathroom was free again, took the letter he had received that day from the bedside table and read it again. It was not exactly from his mother, he had found out a little earlier. Blaise had been mistaken; the letter had actually been sent by Draco's father. Draco, in his sudden panic, had failed to notice the obvious when he had first read it.

He perused the letter for about the tenth time that day. If his father had sent it using their family owl, then he probably was at home now. Also, since Draco's mother had made no mention of it during her stay, Lucius must have arrived at their manor after his wife had left for Hogwarts. Draco frowned in confusion, wondering if his mother had received no prior notification of her husband's release.

With a sigh, Draco pushed the matter out of his mind. He could always ask them later. Besides, there were other more important matters to think about – such as his parents' impending visit. The Slytherin dropped the letter onto his bed and smothered a groan. Father has such bad timing, he thought, frustrated. He could have easily handled whatever Lucius had to say about their family businesses, but the thought of his father meeting his fiancée after what had happened only that afternoon ... it made his skin crawl. Not only because he had no idea how Lucius would react to Hariah Potter, but how in the seven circles of Hell was Draco supposed to get Potter to go through with the meeting?

She won't come, he thought. Hell, Draco would not be surprised if she ate him alive for even suggesting such a thing.

Damn woman.

He rubbed his left cheek which had been steadily turning a blackish purple colour throughout the day; further proof of Potter's unfamiliar strength. It had drawn the attention of some other students as well, but none had dared to ask him how he had gotten injured – probably because he had shot them death glares whenever he caught them gaping. Even Blaise, who had frequently stared at his face with concern that day, had refrained from questioning about it. Draco was glad; the last thing he wanted was to admit that he had been pulverised by a girl – and his own fiancée at that!

Now that his mind was no longer influenced by his hormones, Draco was beginning to feel rather ticked off at Hariah Potter whenever he thought about how she had positively manhandled him. Sure, he could understand why she had been so furious at him – he really should have given an elaborate explanation in his note to her –, but he could not excuse her for attacking him without giving him the chance to explain his actions. Draco scowled at the wall opposite his bed. She could have at least listened to me!

Part of the blame, Draco supposed, also lay with his mother. Ever since he had arrived at the Headmistress' office, Narcissa – worried about his strange actions during their Floo chat – had incessantly tried to get him to talk about his engagement (Draco had whole-heartedly appreciated Professor's McGonagall's tactfulness when she had left them alone in her office for three hours. The same, however, could not be said for those darned nosy portraits). Draco had refused to reveal his fiancée's identity or why he was so reluctant about the whole affair despite his mother's pleas. Only when she had assured him that she merely wanted to know who it was, and would leave the decision of actual marriage to Draco and his fiancée, had he agreed to introduce them.

But never had he imagined that Potter would draw the conclusion that he was trying to force her into matrimony! Initially, he had thought her anger was due to his introducing his mother instead of calling off the engagement like she had wanted; he had crushed her hopes, so her fury was to be expected. But forcing her to marry him? The thought had never crossed his mind! And that ... was where his mother was to blame.

Why did Mother do that? He wondered, biting his lip pensively. Narcissa had sounded so sincere with her promises of "just wanting to know who she is"; but when she had finally met Hariah Potter ... the way she had talked! It almost sounded as if his mother had been certain that Potter would end up her daughter-in-law; almost as if she truly wanted Draco to marry her! There had been such guarantee in her tone of voice that even Draco had been somewhat startled at her words.

No wonder Potter had come to the conclusion that she had.

Still should have given me a chance, though. And now Father wants to meet her – right after she nearly killed me for introducing her to Mother. Curse it.

Draco rubbed his temples, wondering how to get out of the mess. On one hand, he had a duty to his father, but on the other, he could safely assume that he had lost all chance of having even a civilised conversation with Hariah Potter. He did not even want to contemplate marriage at this state!

Why can't these things just be easy, simple and stupid? Draco wondered irritably, only to have that annoying voice in his head point out, But you wished for a wife that wouldn't bore you, don't you remember?

Well ... that was a good point. Draco sat up, thinking about the wishes he had made. Yes, he had asked for a woman who would not bore him and, considering all their interactions throughout the years, Potter had proven that she did fall under that particular category. Also, from the dedication and steadfast loyalty she had always shown to her friends, beliefs and actions without the slightest shame, Draco garnered that she also fulfilled his wish of "a girl with morals" and "a girl who would always be there" for him (if she ever gave him a chance, that is).

But what about the rest? What about getting a girl who would actually love him and not his wealth? One with whom he could talk about anything without taboos? A wife with whom he could have a family and who would make him truly happy? Draco could not know if she qualified for all that. True, the ring had chosen her and, apparently, it was never wrong – but what with the bitter past they shared, how could he blindly trust that she was the one for him? Especially considering that, though he had truly wanted her friendship and had practically been obsessed about it, her dislike for him had been painfully real ... and still was.

Anxiety began to set in and he clenched his fists, suddenly feeling desperate. What am I going to do? Having had revealed his true feelings about his fiancée to Blaise earlier, Draco could no longer deny that there was still a part of him that wanted Hariah Potter in a way he had never wanted another person before, but what with the current circumstances, how in all the world was he supposed to –?!

'Draco?'

Startled, Draco looked up to see Blaise, freshly showered and dressed in his pyjamas, standing in front of his bed with a concerned frown on his face.

'Are you all right? You looked like you were having a nervous breakdown just now.'

'I was?' Draco ran a hand through his hair, sighing in vexation. What was wrong with him? He was not one to lose his cool so quickly. Darn it, he seriously needed to get a grip on himself.

'What is with you, Drake?' Blaise demanded, taking a seat beside him. 'Something's been bothering you all day ever since you came back after meeting your mother, I can tell. Does it have something to do with...?' He looked at Draco's bruised face pointedly.

Draco turned to him, ready to assure him that he was fine when he abruptly recalled the words that Blaise had said some days back; about learning more about Potter and then deciding on marriage or not. In his determination to calm his frenzied nerves about the engagement and not think about it, he had temporarily forgotten that conversation with his friend.

Draco hesitated for a moment, unwilling to ask Blaise for advice. It was not because he was embarrassed about it (after confessing his obsession with his rival, there was nothing that could humiliate him any more than that!), but because it felt like a weakness, being unable to sort out his own engagement and deal with the situation himself. But then again, when had anything concerning Hariah Potter been easy?

Giving in, Draco said wearily, 'Blaise, I need to ... ask you about something.'

As Blaise turned to him expectantly, Draco vowed to himself that this would be the last time he would ask for help from his best friend ever again. It was hardly fair that, through such help-and-advice sessions, Blaise was getting more and more blackmail material on Draco without him getting any back. I can't wait for Blaise to fall in love. Draco would be sure to rub the horror of it in his face when the day came!

'Unbelievable!' Hermione stared down at the newspaper in her hands with large, incredulous eyes.

Harry and Ron looked up from their breakfasts at her sudden exclamation. 'What is it?' inquired the latter.

The bushy-haired girl gaped at the front page for several seconds before wordlessly handing over the Daily Prophet. Harry accepted it and Ron leaned over her shoulder to read the headlines.

'What?!' The red-head exclaimed while Harry simply gaped at the paper. 'Lucius Malfoy – released by the Ministry? Is this a joke? What the bloody hell were they thinking?! He's a proven Death Eater!'

'I know,' Hermione said as she reached to take the Prophet back. 'I can't believe it, either. It's only been a few months; I thought his sentence would last much longer! Surely Kingsley wouldn't have allowed this.' Frowning, she began to read through the article silently, murmuring some of the parts out loud while Harry and Ron listened keenly.

'"Released early yesterday morning" ... "sentence over" ... "on probation for four months" ... "rumours of Mr Malfoy losing his Lordship over the prestigious family" ... "Malfoy couple unavailable for comment" ... Merlin, Harry, they even mention you! About how you defended him in court.'

Harry raised her eyebrows. 'Only by extension. I was vouching more for Narcissa.'

'Hardly matters here, Harry. They're making it sound like he's been let off so easily because you said he's innocent.'

'Say what?' snorted Ron at the same time when Harry snapped, 'Excuse me?! I did not say he's innocent! I only gave my word as a witness that the Malfoys dropped their allegiance to Voldemort during the War. It doesn't mean that he wasn't a filthy murderer!'

'Calm down, Harry,' Hermione said gently. 'The Prophet doesn't exactly say that it was because of you; they just make it sound like that...'

'And how is that any better?' The black-haired witch demanded. 'Regardless of what I said, Lucius Malfoy deserves more than a few months in prison after everything he's done! Hell, Hermione, I only said that the Malfoys should not be given the death sentence, not that they should be let off this easily; especially Lucius! Narcissa and Draco seem all right now, but Lucius has always been more evil than the other two!'

Withholding a shudder, Harry recalled the time when they had been captured and hauled off to Malfoy Manor. She could still remember how eager Lucius had been to summon Voldemort to please his master; his wife and son had certainly not been like that.

'Hmm,' Hermione folded up the newspaper carefully. 'Maybe Kingsley thought it was enough for Lucius. I mean,' she added quickly upon seeing the looks on Harry and Ron's faces, 'he might have been given a very severe penalty! Maybe a few months were sufficient.'

'So, you're saying that, in just a short time, Lucius Malfoy has been reformed and is being released into society?' Ron drawled sceptically.

'Well ... he's on probation.'

'Thank you, Hermione. Hearing that has greatly comforted me.'

'Sarcasm is not helpful here, Ron –!'

'I just hope Kingsley knows what he's doing,' Harry interrupted their bickering. 'I still don't think that Lucius can be trusted.'

'I'm with you on that, Harry. So, maybe we should give him a warning,' Ron suggested, attempting a light-hearted joke. 'You know, make it clear to him exactly what we'll do if he goes back to being a Death Eater. '

Harry snorted, pushing away her toast. 'No thanks, Ron. The last thing I want is to meet Lucius Malfoy, let alone talk to him. I've had enough of Malfoys to last me a lifetime, thanks very much.' Her brows furrowed and warmth flooded her cheeks when the unwelcome recollection of her last episode with Draco Malfoy came to mind. 'Oh yes, I've had enough ...'

'Bloody reporters,' Draco muttered, carelessly folding up the Daily Prophet. 'They always make such a fuss about the smallest thing. And now the whole Wizarding World will be talking about it. The gossip's already started here,' he added with a discreet glance at a bunch of his fellow Slytherins sitting a few seats away. Many of them were constantly peeking around at him and whispering together over the newspaper they were sharing.

Blaise chuckled as he loaded his plate with toast and eggs. 'Well, of course it has, Drake. After all, your father's release hardly counts as a small thing.'

The blond snorted quietly as he turned to look up at the huge windows of the Great Hall. The morning post would arrive soon. Blaise noticed where he was gazing at.

'Expecting a letter?'

'Yes,' Draco answered shortly. Now that his mother knew about Lucius' release, he was quite sure that she would write to him about it despite knowing that his father had already done so. Tapping his fingers on the table impatiently, Draco continued gazing at the windows eagerly before he realised a few seconds later that he was being stared at. Looking around, he was met with Blaise' calculating eyes.

'Yes?' He crocked an eyebrow. 'Is something wrong?'

His friend looked a little uncertain. 'Nothing, Draco. I was just ... just wondering how you were doing.'

Draco blinked, surprised. 'What do you mean? I'm fine, Blaise. I'm ...' he trailed off, suddenly understanding what Blaise was talking about. 'Oh ... you meant ...'

An awkward silence fell between them for a few moments before Blaise ventured, 'Yes, well, I was worried. I mean, you looked a little unwell last night when ...'

Draco coughed slightly. 'I'm fine, Blaise. And trust me, your ... eh, recommendations last night about ... er, the whole thing was quite helpful. Thank you for that. And – and no need to worry about me. I'll have this sorted out.'

Blaise looked sceptically at him. 'Fine. Just remember, the important thing is that you need to approach Harry the right way –'

'Yes, I remember,' Draco interrupted, louder than necessary, flushing slightly. Damn, it had been hard enough confiding his latest list of Hariah Potter related problems to Blaise the night before; it was even more awkward to mention it again.

'Oh, all right, then,' Blaise said lightly, turning away. There was just a hint of a grin on his face; no doubt he was getting a kick out of his best friend's obvious discomfort, as always. Draco rolled his eyes at him.

However, he honestly did appreciate Blaise' concern and readiness to lend a helping hand. His friend had mutely listened to Draco's greatly condensed narration of his time with his mother and fiancée, wasted a few minutes to tell him off to kingdom come ('What the hell, Malfoy, you bloody moron?! You forced her through meeting-the-in-laws drill without even warning her? Well, no wonder she beat you to the next millennium!'), sympathised with him when Draco had briefly explained his actions, and then had proceeded to give him a little advice on how to rectify his mistake. Blaise could not tell him much on account of not knowing Potter well enough, but being a perceptive person, he had picked up a few things about her and based his opinions on them.

Draco was both grateful and a little envious. Grateful because, thanks to Blaise, he now had a game plan of sorts on how to approach her, and envious because...

Blaise has never in his life even talked to her before this year, and yet ... he knows more about her than I've ever learned these past several years, and she's as comfortable in his company as she is with Weasley and Granger ... Hell, she even lets him call her "Harry", for Merlin's sake!

It was a rather depressing thought, really. Here he was, engaged to Hariah Potter, his rival of seven years and whose heart he was struggling to win over. And then there was Blaise Zabini, who could happily and freely chatter away with Potter, his Potions' partner of ... what, one month? Honestly, even Blaise had a greater chance of winning her love than he, Draco, did! Where was the justice in that?

'Feeling all right, Drake?' Blaise asked abruptly, seeing the frown on his face.

'Yes. Just thinking,' Draco said quickly, assuming a neutral expression. When Blaise had looked away again, Draco released a quiet sigh and pushed the thoughts away. There was no point in losing himself in jealousy if he were to at least get Potter to have a decent conversation with him; or to "approach her the right way", as Blaise had put it.

In fact, he already knew the first thing he had to do: lay low and give her time to cool down. There was no way he could even get within a twenty-foot radius of her unless she had her temper controlled. Though he did wonder how long that would take...

Thoughtfully, Draco glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Potter and her two sidekicks were poring over a newspaper and talking among themselves. With a start, he realised that they were probably discussing his father's release from prison, which in turn reminded him –

Father will be here in a week. He fought down the nervousness that filled him at the thought. Honestly, was there even a remote chance that Hariah Potter would cool down by that time to agree to go to Hogsmeade with him?

Almost as if she had heard his unspoken question, Potter suddenly looked up right at him. His mouth went dry at the sight of her eyes; despite the distance, he could practically see them flashing with cold fury at him.

Not bloody likely, he answered his own question weakly, looking round dolefully at Roenan that had just alighted on his arm, Narcissa's anticipated letter attached to his leg.

When the first weekend of October finally arrived, Harry decided that it had been quite a good week. Her temporary post as an unofficial DADA teacher had already been finalised, Professor McGonagall had put up notices in all Common Rooms to invite students to participate in the new "DA", the Quidditch Pitch had been booked, homework was minimal (which was quite a shocker) and Blaise had assured her that, despite her setting their cauldron on fire, the Verita Potion was still in a condition good enough to garner them at least an A grade when finished. Oh yes, she had had a nice, normal week and Harry absolutely refused to ruminate on any past occurrences that could ruin her mood; especially past occurrences involving a certain someone...

Now, all that she needed to top everything off was a peaceful day of relaxation with no worries, which of course meant:

'First Hogsmeade visit today!' Ron exclaimed happily when Harry and Hermione joined him in the Gryffindor Common Room on Saturday morning. 'I can't wait! I need to get to Zonko's for a refill!'

He was not the only one hyped up over the trip, either. The Great Hall rang with the excited chatter of students during breakfast, and even Harry was almost dancing on her toes as, afterwards, they stood in line in the Entrance Hall while Filch checked their names off from a piece of parchment.

'Oh, it feels so good to get out of the castle!' said Hermione happily as soon as they were on their way.

'Yes, doesn't it?' Harry agreed, breathing in the fresh Autumn air deeply. She was grinning madly, so much so that if a stranger were to look at her face, they might have thought her a lunatic. But the truth was, this particular trip to Hogsmeade felt like a whole new experience. Most of her trips to the village had always been shadowed with fear or the War or some other strange disturbance, but during this visit – which was her first after the War – Harry was hoping to experience what it would be like to just wander about the village like any other student with no peculiar or unwelcome events occurring. A normal trip, to put it simply.

The walk to Hogsmeade did not seem to take as long as it usually did and, soon, they had had arrived at their destination.

'So, where to first?' Ron asked eagerly. He was looking around at the little shops and quaint cottages with sparkling eyes, almost like that of a little child's. Harry felt the same.

'Let's go around the shops first,' Hermione suggested. 'And maybe the Shrieking Shack, too. Then we can go to The Three Broomsticks before heading back.'

'Perfect,' Harry grinned and took off down the main road, resisting the urge to skip. Beside her, her best friends looked almost as happy as she did. She vaguely wondered if they, too, had realised that this was actually an ordinary trip – which was a first for them.

'Come on,' Ron said, pointing at a familiar shop. 'Honeydukes first!'

'Yes,' Harry said at once, smiling widely. 'I need chocolate!' And this time, she wanted them for the sole joy and pleasure of eating chocolate; not because she needed to neutralise the after effects of a Dementor attack or fighting a Boggart pretending to be a Dementor. Yes, she was going to make this visit to Hogsmeade as fun-filled and normal as possible. She wanted that much, at least.

Harry's enthusiasm only increased as the day slowly passed. They took over an hour in Honeydukes, good-naturedly arguing over what sweets they should buy, and then the trio visited every place there was to be visited. Another hour was spent in Zonko's where Hermione disapprovingly breathed down their backs as Harry and Ron tried to choose from a variety of joke products, and then they moved onto see the multi-coloured owls in the Post Office, peeked into The Hog's Head where Aberforth Dumbledore spared them a curt nod before returning to his customers, and they finally spent a few minutes at the Shrieking Shack where they stood in silence, mutely remembering Lupin and Sirius. At length, they turned to head back to the village and it was late afternoon by the time they had arrived at the main road.

'There's just enough time for us to have some butterbeer before returning to the castle,' Hermione said, checking her watch.

'Let's go, then,' said Ron, leading the way to The Three Broomsticks. 'I'm parched.'

Harry followed, smiling contentedly. For once, it seemed that everything was prepared to go the way she wished them to without any peculiar happenings. Or at least, that was how she was feeling before Ron pushed the door open and the noise from inside nearly knocked her off her feet.

'What the hell ...?'

'Are you done yet?' Draco asked wearily as he waited for his best friend to finish choosing between a jar of Cockroach Clusters and another one of blood-flavoured lollipops. Behind them, Honeydukes was crowded with Hogwarts students, but thankfully, not many wandered to the Unusual Tastes section where the two Slytherins were; obviously, they did not have such unusual tastes in sweets like Blaise Zabini did.

'Be patient,' the aforementioned Slytherin admonished, still weighing the two jars in his hands. 'These two are my favourites.'

'So, buy both of them,' Draco suggested impatiently, unwrapping one of the Chocolate Frogs he had bought and popping it into his mouth before it could leap away.

'I would, but I want some butterbeer as well so I can't afford both ... I forgot to refill my money bag before coming,' he explained further when he saw the blond gaping at him.

'I thought you were supposed to be the more responsible one.' Draco rolled his eyes.

Blaise ignored him and turned back to the sweets. Another five minutes of indecision passed before Draco, finally losing his patience, beckoned a shop assistant over and asked her to pack both of them.

'I'm paying,' Draco said firmly when Blaise began to protest. 'Consider it an early Christmas gift. You won't be getting any more from me this year.'

After a moment of hesitation, Blaise gave in. 'Fair enough. Thank you,' he said with a weak grin, following the assistant to the counter. While they waited for the girl to ring up their purchase, Blaise turned to Draco and asked in a low voice, 'By the way, I thought you were supposed to meet your parents today?'

Stiffening slightly, Draco nodded.

'Yes, but they're arriving at half past two. I still have ...' He checked his watch, 'more than thirty minutes left. We're meeting at The Three Broomsticks,' he added before Blaise could ask.

'What? The Three – but are you sure? That place is going to be crowded! You'll have no privacy –'

'They have private parlours.'

'Do they?'

'Well, my mother said so in her last letter,' Draco shrugged.

'I see ...' Blaise hesitated for a second before cautiously venturing, 'So, have you ... er, how do I say it – persuaded Harry to meet you –?'

Draco flushed bright red. 'I ... er, well; you see ... I haven't yet –'

He quickly stopped speaking when the assistant, who was currently placing the blood-flavoured lollipops in a small bag, suddenly froze and stared at him, recognition flickering in her eyes. Draco swallowed a groan, wondering if she was thinking about his family's escape from the gallows, or his mysterious engagement, or his father's release from prison, or all three. Unwanted fame really was a bothersome thorn-in-the-side!

The girl blushed when Draco raised an eyebrow and returned her gaze with disdain. 'Two galleons and three sickles,' she stammered, avoiding his eyes as she quickly finished her duty.

Draco wordlessly paid for the sweets and hurried away from the counter without waiting for his friend. A part of him was somewhat thankful that the assistant had not directly said anything to him, but it was still exasperating to have people recognise him and act awkward (or drool over him, as in the case of fangirls).

'What was that about?' Blaise asked when he had caught up to the blond. Digging into his paper bag, he took out a piece of Cockroach Cluster and took a small nibble, closing his eyes in bliss.

Draco wrinkled his nose and hastily turned his face the other way. 'Blaise, that is disgusting! Just eat that thing when I'm not around.'

Blaise looked directly at Draco and popped the rest into his mouth, chewing loudly and making a show of swallowing as slowly as possible before continuing as if there had been no interruption, 'Seriously, Drake, you nearly caused that poor girl to hyperventilate! Now, I know that you're not the socialising type, but you could at least attempt a little common courtesy –'

'It would be nice if people did not gawk at others simply because their photographs were splashed all over the newspapers!' Draco retorted as they stepped out of Honeydukes into the bright afternoon sun. 'What business is it of theirs whom I marry or what my family is going through or – or ...' He sighed as he ran out of words to rant.

Blaise looked at him in surprise, but kept tactfully silent.

As they began to walk up the main road, Draco ventured in a quieter tone, 'I really hate it when people stare at me, because I know that they're just thinking and forming their own opinions about things that concern my family alone. Like that girl back there, she was looking at me and probably thinking about my father's release or my engagement or ... Ugh, it just gets on my nerves,' he muttered, irritably running his fingers through his hair. 'It makes me feel like I'm some sort of freak on display.'

Blaise looked at him silently. His eyes held a hint of sympathy, but for the most part, they were thoughtful. When his friend continued to gaze at him, Draco asked uncertainly, 'What is it, Blaise?'

'I was just thinking ... well, all this sudden publicity is obviously a pain for you and ... I was wondering if your fiancée feels exactly the same way about her situation.'

Draco blinked, startled at what Blaise had said. Huh. He had never thought of Hariah Potter that way.

Her fame started when she was just a baby, he thought with a contemplative frown. Every witch and wizard in the magical world knew her name and stories about her had been cropping up in the Daily Prophet ever since she began at Hogwarts; and not all of them had been full of idolizing praises either.

However, he had never really thought about how she actually felt about being so famous. As a young boy, he had simply assumed that she enjoyed being pampered and making the front page with Gilderoy Lockhart and whatnot; but Blaise' unexpected comment had put things into a whole new perspective.

Does she really feel the same way as I do?

'What – what's going on?' Harry asked, disoriented as she gazed around The Three Broomsticks.

The place was noisier than she could recall it ever being, and it would hardly be a lie to say that nearly all the students of Hogwarts and residents of Hogsmeade had squeezed into the pub. At the bar, the curvy and pretty Madam Rosmerta was busy serving her customers, all of whom seemed to be clapping and singing along to...

Looking around, Harry finally saw a tiny podium on one side of the pub on which a band of wizards was playing a merry and upbeat jig. Erected right next to them was a small wooden stage and Harry watched, bemused, as men and women joyously danced to the lively music. A few bold Hogwarts students had joined them and their laughter and cheers were thick in the air.

'What's the occasion?' Harry murmured, her voice lost in the din.

Her question was answered when Hermione tapped a nearby middle-aged man on the shoulder and loudly asked in his ear, 'Excuse me, sir, but what is this celebration all about?'

The wizard beamed jovially down at her and shouted over the noise, ''Tis the celebrations we been holdin' here every weeken' since the War, m'dear! T' rejoice the downfall o' You Know Who and honour the Chosen 'Un's victory, see?'

'Oh.'

Biting back their grins, Ron and Hermione turned to Harry who had quickly ducked her head when the man had mentioned her unofficial title. Warmth flooded her cheeks and her appetite for butterbeer slowly disappeared. Celebrations to honour her? At the pub – every weekend? Well, so much for a normal day with no Chosen One or Voldemort related business.

Harry, somewhat flattered and embarrassed simultaneously, was just on the verge of making a dash for the door when Ron grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards Madam Rosmerta.

'Come on, Harry,' he said with a smirk as they made their way through the whooping mob (where Harry could see Seamus Finnegan practically dancing in his chair). 'We came here for the butterbeer and we're not leaving without it.'

'You're just trying to torture me,' Harry grumbled as Hermione followed them, laughing softly.

Ron grinned at her as they reached the crowded bar and waved at Madam Rosmerta who, after serving a pair of boisterous Hufflepuffs, turned to them with a pretty smile.

'Welcome back, my dears,' she said loudly over the music, recognising them from their earlier visits. 'Here for some butterbeer?'

'Yes. Three, please,' Ron answered, blushing slightly as the landlady looked at him. Hermione scowled at seeing his flustered face, and shot Rosmerta a rather resentful look that fortunately went unnoticed.

'So, ma'am,' Ron began uncertainly, making an attempt at conversation while Madam Rosmerta poured out their drinks, 'some bloke mentioned that you hold these ... er ...' He gestured at the band and dancers, '... every weekend?'

Harry squirmed uncomfortably and Ron tightened his grip on her hand.

'Yes,' Madam Rosmerta answered him with a brilliant smile. 'It was old Crawford's idea, though. Isn't that right, Mr Crawford?' she added kindly to an elderly, white-haired man seated on a stool right next to Ron.

'That's right,' the man agreed pompously, turning to face the three Gryffindors. 'That God-forsaken filthy Dark Lord and his cutthroat band of devils killed off my entire family, they did! My entire family! From my sick pa to my youngest lad, I tell you!' He angrily shook his fist so hard that Ron hastily stepped away from him, bumping into Harry and Hermione.

'So,' Mr Crawford continued, breathing hard, 'yeh can imagine how happy I was when young Potter finally did away with the bastard.'

'Er, yes,' Ron said, shooting a discreet glance at Harry who was determinedly drinking from the tankard of butterbeer that Madam Rosmerta had placed in front of her.

'Ecstatic, I was. Ecstatic! I woulda danced on his grave if I got the chance! But I couldn't, see? So, I said to Rosmerta one day, I said, "We oughta pay fair tribute to that Potter lass for sending the goddamn bastard to Hell! We should remember all them lost souls and rejoice that our world's been purged from that accursed plague!" And so I suggested this,' he finished, nodding his head at the band of wizards that had just finished their song. The dancers on the stage bowed and the The Three Broomsticks echoed with applause and cheers.

'So, whaddaya have to say about that, eh?' The old man grunted at Ron.

'Well, er ...' trailed off Ron, unable to think of anything to say.

'I think it's very thoughtful of you, Mr Crawford,' Hermione supplied helpfully, accepting her drink from Madam Rosmerta. 'It's a wonderful opportunity for people to get together and strengthen their relationships with each other. And of course, to ... um, honour the Chosen One,' she added, smiling slightly at Harry who pointedly took another gulp of her drink.

'Aye. Thankee, lass,' Crawford nodded at Hermione. 'And d'you think the Chosen One woulda appreciated it?'

'I'm sure she does,' Hermione said laughingly, now looking directly at her best friend.

Having no choice, Harry lowered her butterbeer and smiled at Mr Crawford whose eyes widened with recognition; he slammed his tankard of mulled claret on the bar.

'Well, bless me lonely soul! If it ain't Hariah Potter herself!'

Harry winced as his exclamation rang throughout the pub. Now that the band had finished their song, his voice reached the ears of every person present and their attention turned towards the bar in unison.

Her cheeks coloured at feeling the eyes of everyone on her, but she forced herself to speak nonetheless. 'Yes, it's very nice to meet you, Mr Crawford,' Harry said politely, holding out her hand to the elderly man who grasped it eagerly. 'And – and, yes, I'm very flattered at what you've got going here. Thank you,' she added, glancing at the podium where the wizard band was gawking at her.

'So honoured I am, lass,' Mr Crawford said, shaking her hand vigorously. 'And no, I oughta be the one thanking you for riddin' us of –'

'Vol – You Know Who, yes,' Harry finished for him with a small smile. 'It was my pleasure to do it, sir.'

'Aye, and it's our pleasure to have yeh with us today. Ain't that right, lads?' He roared at the on looking crowd. His shout was answered with an overwhelming response of 'Yeah's and hoots. Harry could see many of her schoolmates grinning at her. Seamus Finnegan's dazzling teeth, in particular, stood out.

'Been waiting aeons to thank yeh meself, lass. Aeons!' Crawford continued fervently. 'And now here y'are, right with us in the middle of our shindig!'

'Wasn't expecting it myself, sir' Harry said, beginning to laugh a little. Though still embarrassed, the festive atmosphere and Mr Crawford's enthusiasm were taking their hold on her.

The old man gave a deep, heartfelt laugh. 'Aye. Well, I offer me gratitude, also on behalf of me folks up there in Heaven, lucky blighters –'

'Ah, you're welcome, Mr Crawfo –'

'And, now that yer here, migh' we request that yeh partake in our merrymakin'?' He finished, grandly waving an arm at the now empty stage. 'It'd bring great joy t'us!'

Harry felt her smile slide off her face faster than her enthusiasm did. Partake? Does he mean...? Oh no.

With a nervous chuckle, she took a step back. 'Thank you, sir, but no. I prefer to watch –'

Mr Crawford opened his mouth to protest, but Ron beat him to the punch. 'Aw, go on, Harry,' he smirked, nudging her arm. 'They've been holding these in your honour every weekend! You don't want to disappoint them, do you?'

Harry shot him a glare. 'Ron, I'm going to kill –!'

'It's not a big deal, Harry,' Hermione cut across her. She looked like she was biting back a smile. 'Just go let your hair down.'

Harry gaped at her. Hermione, you too?!

While Harry stood, speechless, Crawford turned and bellowed at the band, 'Well, what yeh waitin' for, eh? Get them fiddles goin', lads!'

At his command, the men on the podium began playing again. It seemed to Harry that their new song was even livelier and upbeat than the one she had heard before.

'Go on, then, Harry.' Ron gave her a push while Crawford looked expectantly at her.

Horribly aware of everyone still looking at her, Harry stood her ground. 'You can't be serious! You can't –!'

Her protest was cut off by a yell of, 'Come on, Potter! Show us what you can do!' from the crowd. This was followed by more shouts of encouragement and persuasion. Harry could see Ginny Weasley, who was seated quite close to the stage, waving at her and whooping with everyone else. Behind her, Hermione was biting her lip and Ron was openly laughing while cajoling her to get up on the small stage.

'Please, Ron,' she moaned. 'I can't go up there and dance alone or –'

Once more she was cut off, but this time from a voice that sounded right in her ear: 'Come on, mate! It'll be fun!'

With that, Harry felt someone grab her arm and yank her towards the stage much to the enjoyment of everyone else. Ron smoothly tugged her tankard out of her grip as she was pulled away.

'Seamus!' Harry exclaimed when she saw who was dragging her along.

The sandy-haired teen shot her an overjoyed grin over his shoulder. 'Hey, Harry! You up for some wild and pure dancing?'

'No!' Harry tried to free her hand in vain. 'You've got to be joking!'

'Nope.'

Seamus leapt onto the stage and Harry had no choice but to follow. The cheers and laughter grew impossibly louder as the Irishman pulled the unwilling Chosen One close into an outrageous pose.

Harry stared up at him with incredulous eyes and Seamus grinned back wolfishly. 'Hang onto those glasses, Harry.'

Merlin save me, was all that Harry could think.

At five minutes to two thirty, Draco arrived at The Three Broomsticks with Blaise. Both the Slytherins were bewildered at all the chaos inside, but Draco had no time to investigate the cause and headed for the private parlours at the back of the inn, leaving Blaise behind in the hubbub.

The small hallway leading to the private rooms was guarded by a tall, friendly-looking man who gave Draco a brief once-over and asked for his name.

'Draco Malfoy,' he answered impatiently. 'I'm here to meet –'

'Ah, yes, the Malfoy heir,' the man interrupted breezily. He pointed to the corridor. 'Second door to your left. Mr and Mrs Malfoy are waiting.'

A little unnerved that his parents had already arrived, Draco quickly hurried inside and pushed open the door the guard had mentioned. It led to a small, but comfortable room with a carpeted floor, walls panelled with wood and a disproportionately large fireplace in front of which was a sofa and two armchairs around a tiny coffee table. Apart from a small desk pushed into a corner, the room had no other furniture.

Lucius and Narcissa were comfortably seated on the sofa when Draco came in. They looked around at his entrance and he hesitated on the threshold, feeling a little anxious at the thought of what the meeting entailed. Only when his mother, with a soothing smile, gestured at him to come closer did he move away from the door, quietly shutting it behind him.

'Father, Mother.'

His parents rose at his approach and Draco held out a hand to his father who grasped it briefly. Lucius' grip was weaker than Draco remembered and, as he took in his father's appearance, he could see why. Prison, and whatever sentence that he had been forced to suffer, had deprived Lucius Malfoy of many of his physical traits. His figure had lost most of his dominating dignity and not even his immaculate robes could restore it. His face had thinned and was gaunt with hollow cheeks and weary eyes that still struggled to radiate some form of superiority. Gone was the strength of his body and only his pride kept him standing tall and upright. He did not look like his old self at all.

'Are you well, Draco?' Lucius asked curtly, sizing him up critically as they sat down again.

Having been exposed to this examination every time he had come home from Hogwarts, Draco simply nodded, some of his earlier worries already abating. 'Yes, thank you, Father. And yourself?'

Lucius grimaced. 'Better, now that I am out of that filthy –' He stopped at the disapproving look Narcissa shot him and rephrased his words, 'now that I'm with my family again.'

Draco raised an eyebrow. That was a strange phrase coming from his father.

Narcissa, however, was all smiles. 'Yes. Imagine my surprise when I came home after leaving you, Dragon, only to see that my husband was home again!' She gave Lucius a fond look and Draco felt his heart lift at seeing his mother so happy.

He was surprised, however, when Lucius returned her look with a small smile of his own. His father was not one to freely show compassion to people, even to his own wife, in the presence of others. What had changed him?

Pushing the matter out of his mind for the moment, Draco asked, 'So, they have released you for good, Father?'

'Not yet. I am on probation.'

'Oh, right,' Draco muttered, remembering the article in the Prophet.

'However,' Lucius continued, 'I shall be free if, for the next four months, I "be a good little boy" to put it in the words of my probation officer.' His voice was laced with sarcasm.

Draco did not know whether to laugh or faint from shock. He could have sworn that Lucius had just made an attempt at a joke; his mother was certainly chuckling at her husband's words. Not knowing how to react, Draco settled for helping himself to a cup of tea from the set on the coffee table.

'Well, that is good to know,' Narcissa said amusedly. 'Don't you agree, Dragon?'

'Er ... yes.' Draco nodded uncertainly.

'Speaking of my probation,' Lucius said, taking on the business-like tone that Draco was more familiar with, 'the Ministry has assigned me to work in one of their departments till the end of my test to keep an eye on me.' His voice was sarcastic again and Draco got the feeling that his father was quoting from his probation officer once more. 'Thus, I cannot keep my eye on our family businesses and so, since you're of age now, that responsibility falls to you, Draco.'

'But, Father, I am still in school –'

'That is of no consequence,' Narcissa said assuredly. 'Though you hold the responsibility, Dragon, I can take care of everything in your name until you graduate. From then on, you can take up your part actively.'

Draco nodded in understanding.

'The Ministry has already looked over all our businesses,' Lucius said, a frown coming on to his thin face. 'And I must confess that they have discovered some of our more ... disreputable business transactions.'

'Business transactions that I have been continuously telling you to halt,' interjected Narcissa rather coldly. 'For years, Lucius. Years! And I believe that they are the reason why your sentence, though short, was so severe?'

Her husband had the grace to look a little shamefaced. 'Yes. But I have already broken those deals, Narcissa –'

'The Ministry broke them for you!'

'– and I intend to break the business contracts that the Ministry has not come across yet.'

Narcissa looked at him with narrowed eyes, both hopeful and a little suspicious. 'Do you?'

Lucius nodded. 'Yes. Do you agree with my decision, Draco?'

'Absolutely,' his son answered without hesitation. He understood that if the Malfoys were to walk the path of Light, then all their notorious partnerships would have to be thrown aside. Besides, Draco mused, our family can stay afloat without them. He knew that well enough.

'Well, then,' Narcissa was saying, her happiness unmasked in her voice and expression, 'I am glad.'

Lucius gave her another tiny smile.

'Is that all you wanted to tell me about our business matters?' Draco asked, taking a sip of his tea.

'Yes, and no.' Lucius cleared his throat and Draco gazed at him, puzzled. 'You see, Draco, due to my earlier actions as a ... Death Eater and also because of our family's involvement in the disreputable businesses I've mentioned, the Ministry has ...' He trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Draco looked at his father, concerned. 'What is wrong, Fa –?'

'The Ministry feels that your father is no longer fit to be the Head of our family,' Narcissa said abruptly, filling in for Lucius' silence.

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in. 'What?' Draco exclaimed, outraged. 'How can they decide that? It is our family matter, not theirs!'

'That is correct,' Narcissa nodded. 'But the Head is to whom all responsibilities of the family and our businesses fall to and, since the government feels that your father is not suitable for such responsibilities, Lucius believes that it would be more beneficial to us if he stepped down. For, you see, our partnerships will go down if the Lord of the family is labelled unreliable and dishonest.'

'How can they label –?!'

'Because, under my lordship, our family has dabbled in such scandalous contracts, Draco,' Lucius said wearily. 'This will not stay quiet. Already all the Wizarding World knows that we were the Dark Lord's servants and that I played a greater role than both of you did, and they will find out that I expanded our businesses by illegal means. My name is tainted and no longer trustworthy, Draco. I cannot keep our family afloat as its Head anymore.'

'But – but you're on probation!' Draco protested. 'Father, you still have a chance –!'

'A chance to be a free man in four months,' Lucius said quietly. His lips were curled up in a small, sad smile. 'But, by then, people will already know all about this. And no honest businessman would want to trade with me –'

'And over my corpse will this family trade in the black market again,' Narcissa added, folding her arms across her chest.

'I see,' Draco said, disheartened. 'So, you're stepping down, Father?'

'Yes. And you are to take my place.'

'What?' Draco stared in disbelief.

'You are of age, Draco, and you are the one who can now keep our family on the straight and narrow, to use the common phrase,' Lucius said quietly. His tired eyes held a spark of pride as he gazed at his son.

'We are here to help and offer advice when you need it, Dragon,' Narcissa said kindly, seeing his uncertain expression. 'And you only need to assume full responsibility after you graduate, of course. But we ask you to take on the official title now itself. People do not need to know about it right at this moment, if that is what's worrying you,' she added.

Draco sat without speaking for a few seconds. It was not a big choice to make, really. He had always known he would become the Head someday and his father had prepared him for it, teaching him about their partnerships and everything else he needed to know. But he was still taken aback, being faced with it so soon.

'Draco?' His mother prompted.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded at last. 'Very well.'

Lucius gave him an unreadable look and then pulled off a ring that rested on the middle finger of his left hand. Draco's mouth went dry as his father handed it over. He accepted it with hesitant fingers and took a moment to examine it.

The Malfoy signet ring; made of pure silver and decorated with a large, cut star sapphire bearing the Malfoy crest with no other decorations. He could still not believe that it was his now.

Narcissa was watching him with an amused smile. 'We'll hold a proper celebration for you once you finish school, Dragon,' she said in a rather teasing tone.

Draco flushed and hastily put the ring on. It gleamed from its place beside his engagement ring.

Head of the family, he thought, feeling a little weak.

'Well,' Narcissa spoke up cheerily, 'Now that that is done and over with, let's move on to more pleasant matters. Where is your fiancée, darling? Your father has been pestering me nonstop to reveal her name.'

Draco looked up quickly, startled at the sudden change in conversation. His parents were both looking expectantly at him.

'Oh, well ... I ...'

'You did bring her along, didn't you?' Lucius raised an eyebrow. 'I did request a meeting with her today in my letter to you. Is she waiting for us outside, perhaps?'

Draco could feel every drop of his blood rising to his face. It was probably redder than his mother's gleaming nail polish. 'No,' he stammered. 'No, she – she isn't here, Father, but –'

'Why?' asked Lucius, frowning. 'Did she not agree to meet us?'

His son shook his head quickly. 'No, that's not it, Father.'

'What then, Draco?'

'I ... you see ...' He sighed helplessly. 'I did not ask her to come.' Draco looked away, shamefaced. He had known that Potter would not agree until he got her to accept that she had misunderstood his intentions, but for her to even listen to him would take a while. Honestly, her meeting his father was out of the question for the moment. But he did not know how to get his parents to accept that fact...

'What?' His mother was saying, surprised. 'Why not, Draco?'

'She wouldn't have come even if I had asked,' he answered dully.

Lucius did not look pleased. 'How could you know that, Draco, if you had not tried –?'

'Trust me, Father. She wouldn't have come; and I know this,' he added more loudly so as not to be interrupted, 'because she has yet to accept me after her second rejection.'

Silence reigned in the parlour at his words. Both his parents were gazing at him, nonplussed.

'Yes, it's true,' Draco said dejectedly. 'And she won't listen nor speak to me, unless I was to tell her that I'm calling off our engagement.'

'Will you really do that?' His mother demanded anxiously, reminding Draco of how eager she had been when his fiancée had been introduced to her.

'I ... no ... at least, not yet,' Draco said uncertainly. To be honest, he still was unsure whether he actually wanted to marry Hariah Potter, but he did not want to let go of her yet. 'Not until I clear up a few things with her.' He was unaware that he had spoken the last part out loud.

Lucius gazed at him for a moment before rising to his feet. 'I see. So am I to understand that I won't be meeting her until you have "cleared up a few things"?'

Draco nodded slowly and stood up as well. He felt both guilty that he had disappointed his parents as well as relieved that he had succeeded in putting off the dreaded meeting for another time – if such a time did come.

His father gave him a long look as he picked up his hooded cloak and put it on. 'Well, I do hope that this matter will be resolved soon, Draco.'

So do I.

His parents took their leave and Draco offered to accompany them to the door. The moment they left the parlour, the noise from the main area of The Three Broomsticks assaulted their ears at once, forcing Lucius to shout to be heard over the din, 'Will you at least tell me who she is?'

Draco glanced at Narcissa. 'Perhaps Mother should be the one to tell you,' he suggested as they came to the end of the hallway and into the pub.

'What a racket,' muttered Lucius. He glanced at the band and stage contemptuously, but then did a double take. Curious, Draco followed his gaze and nearly walked into a table.

That was ... his fiancée up there ... dancing ... with another man.

He stood stock still, unable to move; unable to think.

It took several seconds for him to recognise Seamus Finnegan and even longer to see the uncomfortable look on Hariah Potter's face; obviously, she was not happy with her current situation. But slowly, her expression melted and a smile that grew increasingly larger graced her face as Finnegan twirled her around in exaggerated dance moves. They were taking up the whole stage due to their exuberance and the entire pub was encouraging them on with whistles and hoots. Before long, Draco saw that Potter had begun to actually laugh; she was enjoying herself. Enjoying dancing with someone that was not who it should be...

'Has it come to this, then?' Lucius' voice cut through Draco's thoughts. 'The heroine of our world takes part in such ludicrous activities such as this?'

'It's only a friendly dance,' Narcissa chastised. 'But do show her some respect, dear. She is our heroine, as you said ... and your future daughter-in-law.'

Lucius looked as if he had been struck over the head with a troll's club. It took a remarkable amount of time for him to locate his voice again.

'What?' He rounded on his son. 'Hariah Potter is ... is that true?'

Draco said nothing, but his silence was enough. Mouth hanging open, Lucius turned to stare at Potter again. 'My future ...' He could not finish.

'Yes, it is true,' Narcissa said firmly and turned to smile reassuringly at Draco. 'Do not worry, I shall talk to him,' she murmured before bidding him farewell and leading her husband outside. The pub was so crowded and noisy that no one noticed their presence. Lucius let her lead him, still not speaking, but Draco was no longer worried about his father's reaction. His attention had gone right back to the dancing couple on the stage.

He watched mutely as his fiancée let Seamus Finnegan pull her along, doing all the ridiculous moves one could possibly do on a stage. More than that though, he could not take his eyes off Finnegan's hands; his hands gripping her wrist, holding her arm, touching her hand, encircling her waist...

No one, no one should be allowed to touch her like that! No one save himself. He should go up there right now and rip Finnegan's filthy hands off her body...

The thought had barely formed when the music abruptly ended. Finnegan finished off the dance by dipping his partner dangerously low and Hariah Potter threw her head back, laughing uproariously. The customers were on their feet, clapping and cheering for all their worth and an old man at the bar was bellowing louder than anyone else, 'Aye, that's the way to do it! Well done, lass, well done!'

Seamus Finnegan bowed to the crowd and placed a kiss on Potter's hand. Draco had to force himself to stay where he was as his anger rose. It was nothing romantic, he told himself. Just a friendly dance, as his mother had said.

However, his heart did not feel any lighter and his eyes focussed on the beautiful smile on her features. A smile that radiated pure, carefree happiness and lit up her entire face.

She had never smiled at him like that.

A/N: Hmm, this chapter was necessary to set the scenes for future chappies. Speaking of which, stay tuned for the next one. Draco finally pulls himself together, and that equals ... wait for it ... Draco/Harry interaction! ::insert fangirl squeal::

Also, since a particular question has been cropping up, I thought I'd clear up your confusions: Why do Draco and Blaise speak more formally than the others? Well, since they're both from high-class families, I always imagined that they'd have a lot of etiquette lessons, and are pressed to be formal and always composed. Yeah, I know that Malfoy doesn't really speak like that in the books, but this is just me adding a bit of my own spice to the characters. :D (Admittedly, I kinda overdid the formal talk earlier and I've been trying to tone it down. Hope it's working. lol)

Anyway, thanks to all who shared their opinions on chapter lengths. Seems like most people prefer longer chapters, and even if I were left to my own devices, I'd probably end up writing long ones anyway. So, long chappies it is! :D Sorry to all who wanted shorter ones, but like I said, I can't please everyone. :)

And finally, thank you so much for your reviews! That last chapter got more reviews than any other has! You all have my deepest gratitude for making my days with your kind words, and now I shamelessly beg for more. Especially for concrit! Anything that needs improvement, please let me know!

NEXT: CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Strategy