Hello, everyone! This update is in celebration of the official start of Spring Break! Hope you guys enjoy this feel-good chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter Forty-five

The process of selling my parents' manor house progressed greatly. Apparently many people wanted to own the house of "Draco Malfoy: The Reformed Death Eater." The real estate agent I contacted was helping me sort through the offers, though he seemed terribly uncomfortable during our meetings. He kept glancing at the deep scar on my left wrist, but I suspected that it wasn't the scar he was afraid of.

In the meantime, I looked into Wizarding medical schools. After the manor sold, I would have enough money to pay for any school I wanted, so it was difficult to choose between them all. I weighed the good and the bad of each school and even sent an owl to Madam Pomphrey to gain her advice.

It was almost Halloween when the real estate agent suggested the best offer-it would make me a multimillionaire if I took it. I agreed with the agent and was relieved when the manor was out of my hands. A large and friendly family bought it. Their youngest child was in their third year, and they had many extended family members move in with them. The house would actually get used now. When my parents and I lived in it, not even half the house got visited on a daily basis.

The parents of the family asked if I wanted any of the family photographs that were stored in the house, but I refused them. They were all staged for the public anyway. "Just toss them out," I sighed.

"Only if you're sure," the mother of the family cautioned.

"I'm sure."

A hand grabbed my left wrist, and I instinctively yanked it back, glancing at who had taken hold of me. It was the youngest member of their family. Hogwarts must have allowed them to leave the school during their family's move.

"Can I see the Mark?" he asked, a bright hope ringing in his voice.

It was then I noticed his blue and silver Ravenclaw tie. "I'd rather you didn't. I have to go anyways," I muttered, looking back towards the parents. "Hope you enjoy it here."

I turned my back to them and walked out the open front doors.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to ask people about things they might not want to talk about?" the mother's voice hissed. She was probably reprimanding their Ravenclaw son, but I didn't turn back to check.

I pulled the door closed behind me and marched down the path leading away from the manor. I still didn't know how I felt about selling it. I couldn't stay here. It wasn't home anymore, but I still spent most of my life here.

My hand lingered on the black gate that I would touch for the last time in my entire life. An odd combination of relief and regret rose within me at the thought.

I wouldn't get anywhere hanging on to this place. Nothing good happened within it, but with the new family living here, maybe it finally would.

I turned my back on the house and its gate and walked a few more steps down path, raising my wand as I walked. I Disapparated and appeared in the Weasley's garden. I arrived at their door and habitually knocked, being immediately greeted by Missus Weasley.

"How did it go?" she wondered, embracing me as she usually did.

"They seem nice enough," I answered as I backed away. "And the fact that I'm now a few million galleons richer doesn't hurt."

Molly laughed lightly as she let me in the house. "Oh. By the way. An owl came for you from Madam Pomphrey." I closed the door behind us as Molly reached into a bowl by the window and handed me a sealed letter. "I didn't know you wrote to her."

"Yeah," I sighed, taking the letter from her. "Thanks. I wrote to her about Wizarding medical schools. With the money I got from the house, I can afford to go anywhere I want. It's a lot to choose from, and I asked her advice."

"You're going to be a Healer?"

"Well, I'm gonna apply anyways."

"You'll get in," she comforted. "I'm sure of it."

"Thanks."

I took the letter and retreated upstairs into my room I was sharing. I took a seat on my bad and broke the seal on the letter. I pulled the parchment out and took in Madam Pomphrey's advice. She told me about the school she attended as well as two others she looked into but wasn't able to afford. She gave me a list of benefits and drawbacks of each school in terms of education as well as social life, though I didn't plan on doing much socializing. But what really stuck out from her letter was the last paragraph.

I'm so glad that you decided to continue studying healing. And that's not just my bias, I really am happy about it. I think that it will be good for you in more ways than one. If you ever need to talk to someone about anything, you can always write to me. I'll even help you with your studies if you need it.

Madam Pomphrey.

In the days that followed, I chose a school and sent an owl to Madam Pomphrey, telling her which I chose. I applied and...donated to the school to boost my chances of entry considering that I didn't even start my Seventh Year of Hogwarts.

Eventually, I received an owl and a thick envelope from the medical school, but I was afraid to open it. I didn't know if I got in or not, and I was scared to find out. So I kept the letter with me, waiting to build up the nerve to read it. Harry and Ron kept asking when I would find out if I got in or not because they already got in to their Auror school and were set to start the spring term. I continually lied to them by saying that the letter hadn't come yet, but I didn't know how long I could put it off.

Ginny sent Harry, the Weasley's and I a letter telling us about an important Quidditch match she was going to play. Talent scouts were starting to take a look at the teams, and she was nervous about what they'd say. Harry, Ron and I decided to go to the game and support her. The others couldn't attend because they were all working, and Molly said that she had to stay behind to watch the house.

Harry, Ron and I met up with Hermione in the Gryffindor stands and anxiously waited for the teams to come out.

"Thought you'd be in the Slytherin stands," Hermione shouted over the crowd.

"I'm here for Ginny. Not for me," I yelled back. "Besides. Slytherin isn't even playing."

The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams soared in on their brooms, and Ginny was ahead of them all on her Firebolt. The game was fast-paced and never stopped moving. Ginny had the quaffle more times than anyone else, and her broom made her nothing but a streak of scarlet and gold flying through the air. There was a moment or two where I thought Gryffindor was in trouble, but they quickly recovered and won the game.

The four of us met up with Ginny near the Quidditch Pitch, though it was somewhat difficult to talk to her due to the many congratulations other students were giving her. "I can't thank you guys enough for coming," she said as she gave Harry and Ron a one-armed embrace, still holding onto her broom. "And thank you for the boom."

Ginny moved to hug me as well, but I froze. I had gotten used to Molly Weasley, but hugs, in general, were still uncomfortable for me. I opened my arms, and she took that as permission to hug me.

"And like I said before, the broom was my pleasure," I reminded. "You played brilliantly."

"Thanks," she laughed, waving to some friends behind me.

"Mister Malfoy!" a voice called.

I turned to find Madam Pomphrey fighting a crowd of students to get to the five of us.

"Hello, Madam," I greeted as she got to us.

"You never told me if you got in or not," she said quickly, a bit of accusation in her voice.

"Got in where?" Ginny wondered.

"Draco applied to a Wizarding medical school, but he hasn't heard back from them yet," Ron explained.

I sighed. I didn't have to lie about anything anymore, so why was that always my first instinct now? "Actually, I got a letter from them about two weeks ago, but I haven't opened it yet."

"What? Why not?" Hermione exclaimed.

"You're not scared, are you?" Harry mocked.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I've got it here, if you want to know."

"Yes! Open it," Pomphrey ordered.

"Okay, okay," I laughed, taking the letter out of the pocket inside my suit jacket.

I took a deep breath as I broke the seal and opened the letter. I pulled one of the pieces of parchment from the envelope and skimmed it, my eyes widening as I read.

"What's it say?" Hermione wondered.

"I-I got in," I breathed.

"Really?" Ginny shouted.

"Congratulations!" Madam Pomphrey said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"We gotta celebrate somehow," Ron said.

"Stay for dinner, then," Ginny suggested. "It's only an hour or so away."

"An hour or so is a long time when you don't have classes, Ginny," Harry reminded.

"Oh, right!" Hermione gasped. "Classes."

Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her off, joining the last of the students into the castle.

"Has she always been like that?" I wondered, turning to Harry and Ron.

"Yes," they both answered.

"I think you should stay for dinner, though," Madam Pomphrey voiced. "I have the perfect plan for you, Mister Malfoy."

"Then what do we do?" Ron asked, looking slightly offended at not being included.

"I'm sure we can think of something," Harry said, slapping Ron on the shoulder.

"We can?"

"Yes," Harry answered, drawing out the word as he raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"Oh! Yes. We can think of something," Ron agreed.

What were they up to?

"Okay, then. Will you come with me, Draco?" Pomphrey asked.

"Yeah," I answered, following her into the school.

It was strange to be back in Hogwarts. Last time I was here, it looked and felt like the end of the world, and the time before that, I was planning a murder. Now, I was back in Hogwarts School like it was any other year. The building was repaired, leaving no trace of the death and destruction that raged through the halls. No dark presence of Dementors or Death Eaters loomed over me.

Madam Pomphrey led me to the school's infirmary and into her office. "I know you know a little about healing injuries, but there's more to healing than a few spells," she informed, turning to me. "There are a few students in here with a stomach virus that's been going around. I've been giving them a potion to slowly get rid of the virus, but why am I not just eradicating it now with a spell?"

It took me a second to figure out that it wasn't a rhetorical question, and when I finally did, I ran through my memories of what I read about healing magic. "Because the body needs to learn to overcome the virus and other sicknesses on its own, so it doesn't depend on magic and forget how to repair itself."

"You've been reading."

I shrugged, earning a small smile from Pomphrey.

For about an hour, I watched the experienced Healer mix potions and measure them into doses. She gave them to the few students who were doing school work in their beds. They each groaned and gagged at the taste, but they swallowed it down anyways.

Quiet sniffling reached my ears as Pomphrey prepared the last dose of the potion. I tried to peer around the curtains between the beds to see who was crying, but I couldn't get a good enough angle.

"Why don't you give this one to the last student," she suggested, handing me a small cup with the potion inside.

I nodded and took the cup from her. "Sure. Last bed on the right, yes?"

"Yep." Madame Pomphrey quickly retreated into her office and closed the door behind her.

I walked through the aisle and found the last student: a Slytherin First Year who was sniffing and wiping his nose on a tissue, his eyes red and watery.

"Hey," I called softly getting him to look up. "What's your name?"

"Stephen," he mumbled, crumpling his tissue in his hands and placing them in his lap.

"I'm-"

"Yeah. I know who you are," he interrupted.

"Okay," I breathed. "I've got your medicine." I held out the cup for him, but when he didn't take it, I pulled up a stool and took a seat. "Why were you crying?"

"I wasn't," he snapped.

"Come on. I can still see your tissue."

Stephen balled up his tissue even more and hid it underneath his leg.

"If we talk quietly enough, the others won't hear us," I whispered.

When Stephen still didn't react, I sighed and stood up, placing his potion on his bedside table. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but you still have to drink that," I said, giving him a small smile.

Stephen scowled, but I ignored it. I turned around and took a few steps away from his bed. I knew enough about crying alone to know that despite what Stephen said, he wanted to talk. My offer and the fact that he already knew who I was might make him familiar enough with me to do just that.

"I didn't want to be Slytherin," Stephen muttered.

I paused and turned back towards him, retaking my seat on the stool. "Why not?"

"No one likes that House. Everyone who goes into it is a Death Eater."

"Not everyone Slytherin is a Death Eater," I said. "I'm not."

"But you were."

I instinctively grabbed my Marked wrist at the reminder. "There were Death Eaters from other Houses, too. Some still wore their House colours under their robes. There were some Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, too. Slytherin doesn't mean Death Eater."

Stephen looked up at me, skeptical.

"Not all Gryffindors are brave," I voiced, thinking of Wormtail. "Not all Hufflepuffs are weak." I thought of Anthea. "And you don't have to be a Ravenclaw to be smart." Hermione came to mind.

"Can't help but notice that you didn't say anything about Slytherin," Stephen pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Slytherins are different than the other Houses," I sighed. "We look at things in different ways than they do. We break rules because we need to, while Gryffindors do it on a dare. We choose not to fight today in order to do so in a better way tomorrow. We make good spies."

"And I suppose that you were that spy in the Death Eaters' ranks, right?"

"Sort of."

"Prove it."

I hesitated before unbuttoning my cuff covering my Mark. I kept the back of my hand facing Stephen, so he wouldn't see the Mark but the curved scar from Bellatrix. "I tried to leave them. I thought I didn't need to be on the inside anymore, but they got to me, and they hurt me." Stephen's eyes widened at the scar, and he glanced up at me. "Slytherin doesn't mean evil. It means you're different in a good way." I lowered my hand and quickly buttoned the cuff back up.

Stephen reminded me of the other students when I was a First Year. Some of them were the only Slytherins in their family, and they were just as upset about it as Stephen. The older students practically held therapy sessions in the common room to try and comfort them.

I picked the cup filled with Stephen's potion again and held it out to him. "Now will you drink it? You want to get better, don't you?"

The First Year gave me the smallest of smiles and took the cup, putting it to his lips and swallowing it with one quick flick of his wrist. He gagged and stuck his tongue out, squeezing his eyes shut. "This stuff is disgusting."

"Yeah. Glad it's you taking it and not me," I voiced, taking the cup from him and standing back up.

I tossed the disposable cup in a trash bin and knocked on Madam Pomphrey's door. She opened it quickly and invited me in. "How did it go?"

"Fine," I answered.

"Still want to be a Healer after today?"

"Yeah," I laughed. "Thank you for teaching me today."

"Not a problem," she dismissed. "Just trying to give you a little extra support going into school. Must be hard enough already."

"Yeah. I think I'm the first one in my family to make healing their profession," I added, purposely ignoring her subtext.

Dinner came quickly. I met Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny at the door, but I habitually parted ways with them and took a seat at the Slytherin table. By the time I realized what I did, I was already blocked in on all sides by other students and the others were sitting together amongst the Gryffindors.

It was odd to eat in the Great Hall again. Not including the fact that the last time I was here, it was filled with the dead and injured, I wasn't nauseous like during my Sixth Year. The fact almost surprised me.

Eating with the Weasleys had gotten me into the habit of scarfing food down without tasting it, so I managed to get one plate of food into me before the students around me realized who I was. All of them bombarded me with questions-most of them were asking for a picture with me or an autograph.

I glanced up towards Potter at the Gryffindor table and gestured around me in question. Harry shrugged and mouthed, "Ignore them."

I took his advice and let the students' continued questions wash over me until they blended in with the noise of the rest of the hall. My parents were well known, and as a result, I was in the papers often as a child so I knew how to handle non-stop photography, but beyond being the son of Lucius Malfoy, I was never famous; now that the war was over, and I was in the news alone, I was just as famous as Harry Potter for being the only "Reformed Death Eater". Now, all of the questions that used to be directed towards Lucius were directed towards me. It was a bit overwhelming.

After what felt like forever, Harry and Ron got up from their seats and walked towards the door, repeatedly glancing behind them. They turned at the threshold of the door and came towards me. "We need you," Harry muttered.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just come on." Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me up from my seat. "We'll tell you on the way.

Once we were maneuvering through the corridors, Ron blurted out, "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. You're just nervous. You'll be fine," Harry comforted.

"Do what?" I wondered.

"Propose," Ron clarified, taking a small, velvet box out of his pocket.

A ring box.

"Always knew you and Hermione would end up together," I said.

I followed Harry, keeping Ron in between us in case he tried to back out. It was kind of fun, dragging him through the corridors and into the library. It made me almost jittery with excitement.

"Okay. I'll summon those birds Hermione likes to make when she comes in," Harry informed. He turned to me. "You hide somewhere and dim the lights."

"And all of us will make those little flames in a jar she used to make," Ron finished.

The three of us got to work, though it was mostly Harry and I making the flames. Ron spent nearly the entire time pacing, taking the ring out of his pocket and checking it before putting it back and repeating.

"She should be here by now," Ron muttered.

"Not for another five minutes," Harry reminded. Ron groaned and resumed pacing the length of the aisle of books. "We'll make this last flame, and then Draco and I will hide, okay?"

"Okay," Ron sighed.

I felt bed for him. He didn't need to be so nervous. From what I've seen, Hermione loved him as much as he loved her.

Harry and I placed the jars of flames on the floor to make a path extending from the door and traveling through the aisles of books to Ron, who was still pacing. When we were done, Harry and I each picked a hiding place behind different rows of books and waited for Hermione.

After a few minutes the door opened, a Ron froze. Soft and careful footsteps sounded, coming closer with each step. Hermione appeared after a moment, and Ron instantly dropped to one knee. I took that as my cue. I waved my wand and dimed all of the lights except for the flames we made, and a flock of small birds appeared, flying through the bookshelves and surrounding the two.

Ron felt around his jacket, a panic-stricken expression colouring his features. Hermione laughed quietly as Ron dropped to the floor and checked under the table, coming back up with the small red box.

Ron got back up on the traditional one knee and started his speech. Or tried to. He stuttered worse than I did asking Anthea out on a date. He stumbled through words of how he would take care of her and love her and wanted to spend forever with her. Hermione looked down to him, a small smile on her face as she mercilessly allowed him to stumble through.

Finally she took pity on him. "Stop, please," she laughed, taking his arm and pulling him up from the floor. "Of course I'll marry you."

Ron sighed in relief and nearly fell into the table behind him. Hermione caught him before he fell and pulled him into a kiss.

I dropped my gaze to the floor to give them a little privacy and to save myself from having to watch.

"You two can come out, now," Ron called. "We're done."

"Two?" Hermione questioned.

Harry readily came out from behind his bookcase, and I cautiously followed his lead, coming out from behind mine.

"Congratulations," I said.

"Now you just got to pick a date," Harry reminded.

"Not now," Ron snapped. "I had to get through this first."

Hermione snorted with laughter, and the rest of us gradually joined in.

It took me weeks to write this chapter just because I was fangirling over the Romionie cuteness! Hope you enjoyed, and see you soon for chapter 46! Just 5 chapters remain in this fanfiction. Thank you to all who have read!