A/N: One final thank you to all who have read and all who have reviewed. My apologies to those reviewers I've never responded to. I always planned to reply but life and a short term memory span resulted in, um, whatever.

I think I'm supposed to be eloquent but the truth is I've been up all night with insomnia. I have a headache. And I only remembered about posting this chapter a half hour ago. Once I post this I will probably sit up in bed and watch a movie. Either West Side Story or the remake of The Wolfman. In view of the insomnia, probably both. And don't worry about me. I'll be fine after a good night's sleep.

Chapter 30: Aftermath

Quiet. That was the one thing that Draco noticed as he walked around the school. Everyone was subdued, as though fearful of making a noise.

Part of the reason was the swift departure of the students from the other schools. They left the morning after the meeting. Including the American Professors. Another reason was the Daily Prophet. For some reason, known only to Rita Skeeter, her editor and a blond boy in his fourth year, no copies were delivered to Hogwarts until after the meeting started. (Rita needed no urging to join in the downfall of the Minister. She knew it would mean a month of front page stories, with her byline.)

Rita manipulated her readers with the skill of an artist. She could not name Draco as her source nor cast him as a villain. Instead, she presented a young frightened boy, already injured and bleeding, forced to choose between his hand and his life. (Draco was willing to wager anything that she was stealing Sirius's words from the meeting, or vice versa.) Her description of the pitiful boy was so dramatic that Lavender Brown, tears in her eyes, hugged him and told him it must have been a terrible ordeal.

In successive articles, the names began to appear. All sources were attributed to anonymous neighbors who witnessed the arrests or attempted arrests. On the six day, the Friday edition, Rita dropped her bombshell. Proof that Professor Crouch was the late arrival to the party at the cemetery.

Rita did herself proud. The headline read "MINISTER'S SON PROVEN DEATH EATER". And the article proved it by circumstantial evidence. Crouch, Junior was seen leaving Hogwarts. Thanks to departing patrons of the Three Broomsticks, she even had the exact time he apparated. The same methods of Journalistic investigation revealed that Barty, Junior did not return to London until almost an hour later, shortly after a certain meeting ended.

Saturday's edition held nothing of interest. Draco expected to hear of the Minister's resignation. Sunday, there was a copy of the Minister's speech where he gave his explanations for the secrecy. He also explained his actions. Rita merrily lambasted the Minister for his tissue of lies. But the Minister still did not resign.

"It's utter chaos," Justin commented. Draco smiled.

It was that Sunday afternoon that Ludo Bagman made an appearance. He was the only one who seemed in a good mood. Draco was summoned to the headmaster's office, this time for a good reason. He had the honour of being escorted by Fred and George. The twins, and almost everyone else, had been avoiding him for the past few days. Not out of meanness or fear but because Draco was a royal pain to be around.

"We know it's the arm," they, and almost everyone else, would say whenever Draco groused at them. They were right, but it didn't make Draco feel any better. The bloody arm still throbbed all the time. Even knowing he was going to see Bagman, and pick up his winnings, did nothing to improve his mood.

He uttered a remark that disparaged someone's lineage.

"We know it's the arm," Fred told him.

"Bugger all," Draco muttered as his arm twinged again.

"That's the spirit, mate. They're about to give you 1,000 thousand Galleons. Make them hate you for it."

They reached the gargoyle when Professor McGonagall was waiting.

"You're just in time," she told them.

"BLOODY HELL. BLOODY BLOODY BLOODY HELL."

"I know it's the arm," Professor McGonagall said, then gave the password. "Only two more days."

Draco nodded. The potions he had been taking were beginning to take hold. Once they did, the feeling in his hand would be more of a dull ache. But first they had to take hold. Until that happened, he could not take anything for the pain. Since the other option was a fake arm, Draco suffered. To the dismay of others, he did not suffer silently. A perfect example was when an owl tried to deliver a letter. She was almost hit as Draco tried to smack her away. Hermione was holding the envelope until Draco was in a better mood.

"Of course it's the arm," Draco snarled, "What'd you think? I was mad because the Chuddley Cannons lost?"

There was a sense of relief. Now that he had a bad twinge, his arm would be quiet for a while, perhaps two or three hours, then there would be a repeat performance.

The four went up the stairwell and into Dumbledore's office. Ludo Bagman was standing next to him with Cedric Diggory on the other side. Bagman was holding a money pouch, one that would hold any amount you put in it.

"Congratulations, my boy," Bagman said as Draco approached, "They'll be talking about this Tournament for decades." His smile dimmed. "Even after that other thing is forgotten. You know what I mean." His smile returned full force and he went to shake Draco's hand. He stopped himself and held out his left hand.

"Understandably, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore was saying as Bagman was coerced into silence, "It would not be appropriate to make a public presentation. Especially when we consider certain other facts have come to light."

"Nothing illegal," Bagman said. "Questionable, but not illegal."

Dumbledore was not smiling. "It seems that Mister Bagman wagered a significant sum on the tournament, and that he had a partner. I thought it best that all money matters be settled at once." He smiled. "Ludo has respectfully agreed." He pulled out two money pouches. "Mister Malfoy, may I present you with your winnings. Each pouch contains 500 Galleons for easy distribution."

He set the two pouches on his desk in front of where Draco was standing. Draco took the first pouch and handed it to Fred and George. They tried to keep their grins to a minimum as they thanked him. Draco's lip curled. He almost let out a laugh that they would try to be serious. Then he picked up the second pouch and held it out for Cedric Diggory to take.

"Um, thanks but . . ."

"Minister's orders," Draco said calmly. He held back his next choice of phrase and instead said only, "He . . . hasn't resigned, yet." He held out the pouch until Diggory took it. His winnings were now gone. Yet, more money was to be had. Except they had to wait.

It was only fifteen minutes. During the wait, Bagman explained that it was agreed that all debts were to be paid before the profits were divided between himself and Draco. And the others arrived.

Professor Flitwick happily accepted his 22 Galleons from his wager at the World Cup. Fred and George also received an additional hundred Galleons. Cedric Diggory, who pointed out that he was an adult when he made the wager, pocketed twelve Galleons. Professor Sinistra cheerfully accepted her winnings of sixty Galleons. And so on.

As each debt was payed, the payee left, usually in a good mood. Argus Filch claimed he should get interest on his bet as it took so long for Bagman to pay up. As it was, plenty of time passed before the office was down to three people. Bagman sighed, saying there were a few more expenses than he had thought.

"How much is left?" Draco asked slowly.

"Almost eight hundred Galleons. Still a handsome profit." Ludo was smiling. He knew that Draco had no choice but to accept the results. And Draco knew he knew.

"That is wonderful news," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "That means that the last debt can be paid in full. Mister Malfoy, if you would call your house elf."

As Draco said Kreacher's name, Bagman was at a loss. He was saying that all his debts had been repaid. As Kreacher appeared, Dumbledore admitted that was true but Draco still had to pay his debts.

"After we divide the remainder, he." That was as far as Bagman got. Dumbledore was saying, "the agreement stressed that ALL debts would be paid, first." Draco had understood faster, as it was to his benefit. He still had to pay for the food he gave Mick and Janice at Christmas. A hefty sum of 134 Galleons. It was a small pleasure that his partner in crime would pay half.

"Won't be much," Draco said calmly. "There'll still be plenty of money left." He turned to his house elf who was already holding out a large rolled parchment, much larger than he remembered. "Is this . . ." He was already unrolling the parchment to read as Dumbledore explained. Bagman's smile wilted with every sentence.

Draco had a sister, by adoption. She and her husband were in dire financial straights. "The clever boy", as Dumbledore called him, had made an arrangement for the house elves from Hogwarts to supply her with enough food and drink to hold her family over until their finances improved. Two children and certain political matters had prevented that from happening quickly. Therefore, the house elves continued to make sure their larders were full.

Draco said that Mick had a job. He was corrected. Mick had work he was doing but it had to be done without pay, hence the explanation of political reasons. The financial problems had only been resolved recently, in the last week.

The headmaster's eyes were twinkling as he told Draco, "It is amazing how much two growing children can eat."

There was a pile of paper at Draco's feet as he reached the last line and the total. Draco looked up in surprise. "Seven Hundred and Eighty Three Galleons?"

"You are paying for goods and services. Kreacher's personal visits are not considered as part of the delivery charges."

"Personal?"

"I believe the muggle term is 'baby sitting'."

"Right." Draco decided he would think about all of this at a later time. Much later.

"Ludo? The pouch?" Dumbledore was smiling as he took the pouch and handed it to Kreacher. Kreacher held the pouch and waved his hand. The pouch opened. Two gold coins came out. Two people groaned as the house elf handed the pouch to the third person. Kreacher then gave the two coins to Ludo Bagman. As per their agreement, Ludo handed Draco his Galleon. He said his goodbyes, thanking Professor Dumbledore for his fairness, and left, avoiding Draco's glare.


It was fifteen minutes later. Draco was now sitting in Dumbledore's office, drinking a cup of tea. He was scowling.

"Your arm?"

"Always. Madam Pomfrey says the spell has to settle first."

Dumbledore tried to smile. "I remember when Alastor Moody lost his leg. He told me he was grateful for the prosthetic after seeing what the alternative was. In his case, he did not have an alternative."

Draco did not react.

"Professor Snape warned Professor Crouch to flee before he could be captured. Do you know why?" A pause. "Draco?"

Green eyes glared at the headmaster. "My father recruited Uncle Severus to be a messenger, a double agent, to pass information to you."

Dumbledore's lips grew thin. "I did not know Professor Snape was so open with you."

"He never told me anything about what he did." Draco's eyes were still fixed on the headmaster. "All the stories he told me were about personal things. How my parents liked to sit under the moon. Things like that."

"Then, how do you know?"

"I know. Isn't that enough?"

"No."

Draco set the tea cup down. "It's never enough." He cursed as he felt a twinge in his arm. Dumbledore suggested they have this conversation another time. As he escorted Draco from his office, he pointed out that the Weasley Twins were waiting outside. They were undoubtedly curious about how wealthy their friend was.


Other things were happening in the meantime. Everyone recovered from the shock of what happened with the dragon. The shock ended more quickly then it should have by Angus McFusty telling Charlie Weasley to check on the dragon. Charlie agreed, saying he knew an excellent potion for an upset stomach.

Smaller articles appeared about the disappearance of the former Death Eater, Karkaroff. No one knew or cared what happened to him. Another article revealed the circumstances of the death of a Ministerial Aide, Dolores Umbridge. It concluded by stating that no investigation would be made until there was an official complaint. There was no information on how to make such a complaint.

And Draco was changed. He was rarely in a good mood. His injury was not the only reason. He had to learn how to use a wand with his left hand. It was like trying to learn to walk again. At the end of his first week of classes, he could cast first year spells with passable success and he could change a pin into a needle. Ron Weasley suggested having Hermione tutor him. Dean Thomas said it was an excellent idea. Hermione told him it wasn't.

"You can't teach reflexes."

And Cas. He changed. Justin said the word was relaxed. His father was no longer there to watch him. He could be his own man. Draco said he seemed happy. Billy said they were both right. Rodolphus Lestrange was never a real father, or a father figure. But he did represent a threat to his son.

Billy changed as well. As his friend relaxed with his new found freedom, he became more nervous. With the Dark Lord returned, and the revelations in the newspapers, his position as a close friend of a Death Eater's son made him uncomfortable. Overnight, the positions of these two friends was reversed.

Naturally, Uncle Severus changed. He was back to his usual attitude toward all Gryffindors. When Draco insisted on showing up for classes, he was paired with someone more understanding and knowledgeable. Any Slytherin. Usually Pansy Parkinson. Pansy rather liked the arrangement.

Draco, because he was a champion, was excused from his exams. Because of his arm, he couldn't take half of them anyway. When he tried, he found himself in Professor Snape's office in the dungeons. A cup of tea was sitting in front of him.

"You are the most annoying boy I have ever met. Does your arm still hurt?"

"Not as bad, now." He was finally able to take something for the pain.

"And your head?"

"I don't understand."

Severus Snape waved his wand and said a few spells. He then smiled sympathetically. He explained what he knew of the events of 'that night'. The Dark Lord performed the killing curse, again. Draco survived, again. "He asked me what you were holding in your hand when we found you on the day that Simon Nott died. I told him you had your wand. He was happy to hear that." Severus leaned forward. "He also said your shields were down and that he had a brief glimpse into your mind. Before the pain began. He was very pleased with what he saw. What did he see?"

"I was thinking of my father."

"However that thought came across, HE is very pleased with you. I have been ordered to watch over you and protect you. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Draco, do you understand? I have been ordered to watch over YOU. Only you. Your friends are no longer any concern of mine. Or HIS. And, very soon, you will have to prove that they are no concern of yours."

Draco understood the all of it. His late godfather was right. Draco was now safe. His friends were not. His friends were on one side or the other. Draco was not. In order to protect himself he could not afford to have friends. His thoughts went further afield. Of Janice and Mick. He would need to sever his ties from them.

Uncle Severus nodded as horror filled Draco's face. The Dark Lord would not want Draco to simply dismiss his friends. He would want Draco to prove they were not his friends. The same way it was proven that Rodolphus Lestrange was no longer useful.

Draco understood. He would survive. And, all too soon, he will wish he hadn't.