Not much to say about this chapter apart from thanks again to all the lovely reviewers; AlwaysAnAussie, LadyWhiteRose2015, ErnEstine13624 - with a special thanks to AcadianProud for pointing out my glaringly awful typo in the previous chapter, now thankfully resolved!

Enjoy :)

Chapter Three

Going Back

As he returned to the list of careers that would not be possible without passing N.E.W.T's Harry found himself, for unknown reasons, wondering about Malfoy's future. He would, of course, be returning to Hogwarts as detailed in his probation. He had never thought about what Malfoy would do in life – he had never really thought much about Malfoy having a life, apart from obsessing over his dark involvements. As he scanned the lists he wondered if it even mattered, if even with the best N.E.W.T scores in history Harry doubted Malfoy would find it easy to gain himself employment. Although Harry was raised in the muggle world, he had quickly learnt that name and honour were important things in the wizarding world and dark status was not easily forgotten. Not allowing his mind to continue thoughts of Malfoy – why was he thinking about him so much, anyway? – Harry looked up to his best friends, curled up together on the sofa.

"Are you going back?" He asked neither one of them in particular. He knew he didn't really need to ask Hermione, education was like air to her and she couldn't possibly knowingly turn down the chance to take exams.

"Hermione is. I don't know… George offered me a job, at the shop, y'know with…" Ron trailed off, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Mum went spare." He announced, quickly changing the subject "She says she won't have another son not completing Hogwarts and besides, someone's got to stick with Hermione." At that Ron smiled down at her and she smiled back, leaving Harry feeling like he was invading on a very private moment which he should be far away from.

"How about you?" Hermione asked as if sensing his tension.

"Me? Yeah, I suppose." Harry shrugged , not having come to the decision himself until he had been asked. "I don't know what I want to do yet, and besides… Hogwarts is like…"

"Home" Hermione finished with a knowing smile.

As June progressed Harry saw a few more fleeting glimpses of the owl, the pale owl with pure white feathers and slate grey eyes. Upon seeing the owl for the second time Harry had asked Mrs Weasley if one of their newly adopted owls matched its description, but it didn't. When he saw it for the third time, he went to check himself, looking over each owl carefully even though not a single one was completely white. The fourth time he opened Ron's bedroom window, trying to reach out and grab the owl with no luck. After that, he didn't see the owl again.

June gave way to July, and July to August. Harry was still as numb as he had been the moment the war had ended. He was still working through the motions of life, acting as expected, keeping people happy. All three had decided, much to Mrs Weasley's pleasure, that they would return to Hogwarts. A trip to Diagon Alley for supplies had been awkward but necessary; Harry didn't know which he found worse, those who stared and whispered from afar or those who came straight up to him, as bold as day, requesting to shake his hand. He had done his duty, smiling and humbly dismissing the countless witches and wizards who approached him.

The evening they returned home from Diagon Alley a cross brown owl awaited Harry, giving him a sharp nip on the finger as he untied the letter from its leg as if punishing him for its wait.

Dear Mr Potter,

Within your testimony for Draco Lucius Malfoy you claimed to have possession of the wand of Mister Malfoy; 10", hawthorn wood, unicorn hair. In your testimony you expressed a desire to return the wand to its owner. As per the terms of his probation, Mister Malfoy has been unable to cast magic this summer, however, as he returns to Hogwarts his wand shall be required.

If you are still in possession of, and willing to return the wand of Mister Malfoy he and his Ministry appointed probation officer from the Magical Law Enforcement department will be at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry tomorrow at noon. A Floo port will be opened for you directly to Headmisstress McGonogall's office at this time only.

Regards,

Melinda Booth

"Are you gonna go?" Ron's voice asked from over Harry's shoulder.

"Honestly, Ronald, you shouldn't read other peoples post." Hermione admonished softly. Before Harry could respond he smiled, glad that Ron hadn't completely changed in his new found relationship with Hermione.

"I'll have to. He probably can't afford to get a new one right now anyway." He reasoned and although it was true, it was only half a reason. Harry wanted to go, to see Malfoy. To see for himself how he was doing, if he was still as pale, frail and scared as he had seemed at his trial.

Ron whistled lowly through his teeth. "Never thought I'd see the day Malfoy couldn't afford something" He commented, although there was neither smirk nor humour in his tone – a pre-war Ron would have been thrilled that Malfoy of all people couldn't afford something he could. Harry thought to himself that some of the changes Hermione had inspired in Ron weren't that bad after all.

Harry retired early that night, unable to contain the nerves he felt at the prospect of meeting Malfoy and even less willing to attempt to explain them. As he reached the bedroom he shared with Ron which was rapidly become his own a sight instantly caught his eye.

The owl.

It was there again – it had been gone for so long Harry had convinced himself he had been imagining it, a vision from his tired and war-added mind. Yet it was back, unmistakably as pale and beautiful as it had been before, its startling grey eyes staring into the room.

In a blink, it was gone.

Sighing as he dropped onto his bed, Harry reached into the drawer beside him. Removing the now familiar wand he twirled it in his fingers, the wood light between his fingers. His mind cast back to the day after disarmed Malfoy, the night after the scene at the Manor. Ollivander had confirmed… The wand had changed its allegiance and was now technically Harry's. It had worked well for him, though not as well as his own had once worked. It always, especially after the battle, felt alien in Harry's hand, a constant reminder of Malfoy. Before destroying the Elder Wand he had used it to repair his own, the 11" holly much more at home in Harry's palm. So his unease did not come from returning the wand, no. He knew his unease came from seeing Malfoy again. Rather than give dangerous thought to why this was he allowed himself to give into sleep, the owl once again visiting him in his dreams.

Harry awoke early, showered, tried (and failed) to eat something and dressed. He tried to read Quidditch Quarterly but struggled to get past the first article announcing the commencement of the new league after the war. His thoughts were scattered by the upcoming meeting and he took to pacing the bedroom floor, continually patting the pocket beneath his robes where two wands knocked together, side by side on his leg.

After what seemed like an eternity, it was time to go. He went downstairs, thankful that the warm August day had driven most of the family outside to enjoy the sunshine in whatever way they could. Reaching for some Floo powder he took a deep, calming breath, trying to remind himself that this was only Malfoy, of all people, and he was simply going to return a wand then he'd be back. He would have done everything he needed to concerning him; saved his life, saved him from Azkaban and returned his wand. Surely then he would stop thinking about the drawn, pale face at uncomfortably frequent intervals, for there was no other reason - rather than his Gryffindor morals and nobility willing him to see this through – for him to be thinking of Draco Malfoy. Thoughts settled, Harry threw the powder into the flames and stepped in as they turned green with a firm sense of determination.

Harry took a moment to take in the large, circular office which now belonged to McGonagall. Nothing much had changed since the office had belonged to Dumbledore and Harry found himself wondering if Snape had, during his time as headmaster, preserved the office as it was. He felt an uncomfortable stab in his stomach as he thought of the potions master, now in the knowledge he had been much more than Harry had ever thought of him. Realising there would surely be portraits of both Dumbledore and Snape somewhere Harry took a step from the side of the fireplace, shifting into the main room of the office with searching eyes before a gentle, but purposeful, cough startled him from his thoughts.

The owner of the gesture was a tall, burly looking wizard who Harry instantly knew must be Malfoy's parole officer. Harry frowned at the thought, surely – what with all the dark witches and wizards the Ministry was currently holding, such an intimidating Magical Law Enforcement officer shouldn't be placed with Malfoy? He had no way of performing magic, for Merlin's sake! Then realisation dawned on Harry that, of course, with his status as the Chosen One the Ministry would see fit to have the heaviest hand they could watch over this meeting. He fought the urge to roll his eyes before realising why both he and the wizard were there, Malf-

"Good afternoon, Mister Potter." A familiar greeting broke Harry's thoughts causing him to spin around in the opposite direction. It was not, however, Professor McGonogall who commanded Harry's initial attentions despite her warm welcome, it was the figure sitting in the chair beside her desk. Malfoy was sitting as straight as he possibly could, back pressed against the wood in a position so firm it made Harry half-wonder if the wizard behind him had cast another holding charm on Malfoy as he had been under in the Wizengamot. Pushing the unwelcome thought from his mind he took in the rest of Malfoy's appearance; his chin was lifted with his usual arrogance, grey eyes fixed firmly and determinedly ahead, looking anywhere but Harry. Anyone who were not to know Malfoy would be easily fooled that his old personality had returned; arrogant, haughty and uninterested. Harry, however, was not fooled by the blonde's cool exterior; after the countless hours, days, weeks and months spent watching him during sixth year, Harry felt he knew more. For some time Harry had been able to decipher the subtle ways in which Malfoy's eyes relayed the emotions his body tried to hide – firstly, the horror in his eyes the awful night at the Astronomy tower, then the pure fear they had held in the Room of Requirement as Harry saved him from the fire and most recently, the broken, terrified sadness they had given away during his trial.

Dragging his thoughts – and eyes – from Malfoy, Harry returned the headmistress warm welcome. "Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall." He replied as she bustled him over, indicating for him to take the seat beside Malfoy who made no acknowledgement of this move.

"Now, I know you are here, Mister Potter, to return Mister Malfoy's wand. First, however, I would like to take this moment to discuss with you your impending eight year enrolment at Hogwarts." McGonagall seemed to eye both boys as if carefully considering her next words. "Now, I trust, given the actions which were relayed during Mister Malfoy's trial that there is no longer any animosity between you two in any significant amounts. However, I feel I must impress on both of you the rules and expectations of which I am well aware you have both made a spectacular job of ignoring during your previous years." Despite her firm tone, McGonagall's lips seemed to curl into what could almost be considered a fond smile, which Harry returned before she continued. "This year, the eyes of the students – and the rest of the wizarding world – will be on you both more than ever before. Mister Potter, I feel no need to remind you of the gravity of your services to wizard kind and Mister Malfoy, I feel we have made your position clear in our meetings this summer."

Harry watched with a mixture of surprise and interest and McGonagall and Malfoy exchanged glances, Malfoy giving nothing away as he responded to her words with a curt nod. Malfoy and Professor McGonagall… having meetings? What about? Harry knew, of course, that he must have been forgiven by the headmistress to be sheltered and fed in Hogwarts over the summer – yes, it was due to his involvement in the restoration of Hogwarts as part of his reparations to wizarding society, but Harry knew McGonagall had chosen such a term to keep him safe. Although Harry had worked this out, he hadn't considered any further relationship behind the student and professor and he couldn't help but wonder…

"So, for both of you, it is imperative that your behaviour is of the upmost standard, especially towards each other." McGonagall continued, snapping Harry back to the present. "I feel that any tensions should be aired now, in the hopes of an eventless year."

Neither boy said anything and the silence seemed to stretch for an eternity, until the wizard Harry had almost completely forgotten about broke the silence.

"Mister Malfoy has something he would like to say." His words didn't sound as gentle as McGonagall's which suggested it wasn't something that Malfoy wanted to say at all, rather than something he had to. The lack of surprise in Malfoy's features confirmed for Harry that this was a conversation he had already had rehearsed to him. Malfoy, somewhat reluctantly, pushed himself to his feet and stood before Harry. Before he could open his lips Harry stood too, feeling dwarfed and uncomfortable sitting as Malfoy stood before him – when had he gotten so tall?

"Thank you." Malfoy said, his words strained and although he looked at Harry, his grey eyes were not really seeing, not connecting with Harry's in the way he wished they would so he could search them for information. "For saving me; in the battle… and your letter." He amended, as if knowing the first words would not be enough for the wizard behind him who, Harry saw from the corner of his eye, nod with a mixture of both approval and a push for something more.

"Well, s'ok… I mean, you saved me first, so…" Harry mumbled awkwardly, taken aback by the gratitude – even if it was forced – then cursing himself for not having a better response. But what would have said? 'So… I had to?' No, that wasn't it. He didn't have to. 'So… I wanted to?'. 'So… as it happens, you might be a git but you aren't your father so I couldn't bloody well let you die in there, could I?' followed by 'And after I'd saved your arse, I wasn't going to let it rot behind bars for the rest of eternity, was I?'

No, nothing Harry could say was right.

Noting the look he was cast from his probation officer, Malfoy brought his eyes to Harry's, a flash of grey to green. Harry was disappointed to see they had been carefully devoid of all emotion – then surprised to see a hand extend with pale, bony fingers.

A handshake. Harry could count all the times Malfoy had offered him his hand without difficulty. Only twice; the first on his first night of Hogwarts when Harry had rejected his friendship, the second in the burning Room of Requirement as Harry had grabbed desperately to save him.

Both thoughts were uncomfortable and he pushed both from his mind, extending his own to grasp Malfoy's. The shake was firm but brief. Malfoy withdrew his hand first, giving Harry a curt nod before he returned to his seat. Somewhat awkwardly Harry mirrored his actions, returning to his previous sitting place.

"Er, Professor… There might be a problem with, y'know, Malfoy's wand." Harry admitted awkwardly, wanting a distraction from the tension of the moment, looking anywhere but Malfoy as he delivered the news.

"Problem?" McGonagall enquired calmly, quirking an eyebrow for an explanation.

"Yes, you see… I took it from Malfoy in the Manor, I – well I disarmed him and Olivander said – well, he said the wand hand changed its allegiance to me." Harry explained, not for the first time nervously rolling his hand against his pocket to feel both wands snugly in place.

"I see," McGonagall replied, the news not appearing to faze her in the slightest. "Simple enough to resolve, Mister Malfoy will need to willingly borrow the wand of another to disarm you as you hold his wand and the allegiance will return to him."

"That's absolutely out of the question!" A voice spluttered from the back of the room as the wizard guarding Malfoy left his standing spot to come and join them. "He isn't allowed to use magic until the school term begins and that's the entire reason I'm here. Especially use magic against him!" He exclaimed with a frantic gesture toward Harry. "They'd have my job!"

Harry felt a surge of anger towards the wizard he was unable to repress. What on earth would Malfoy really do to him, in a room with his probation officer and headmistress? More to the point, what would Malfoy even want to do, Harry had saved him twice and Malfoy had saved him before that, surely it was clear that – whilst still, and probably always, far from friends – they were no longer enemies? Such matters as schoolyard enemies seemed trivial now, anyway, paling in significance when compared to the horrors of the war.

A sudden flash of genius crossed Harry's mind, clouding through his anger. He didn't damn well like being the Chosen One, but what use was it putting up with the crap if he didn't use it to his advantage once in a while?

"Well, then, my journey has been a complete waste of time." Harry said, affecting what he hoped was a suitably sneering tone (inwardly basing himself on Malfoy throughout their Hogwarts years, though he wouldn't admit that) "I shall have to owl the Ministry when I get home and tell them that their officer guarding Mister Malfoy was so… incapable of doing his job he didn't feel adequate enough to allow an eighteen year old wizard – recently proven to not be dark or dangerous at all – near someone who defeated Voldemort."

The wizard seemed to jolt as if smacked by Harry's words and became increasingly agitated under his gaze, shifting from foot to foot. "Well, I suppose, no need to bother calling the Ministry in over something like this – ha! Like you say, your perfectly capable of defending yourself, Mister Potter, I would never suggest otherwise – of course not, no, never." The Gryffindor in Harry scolded him for making the poor wizard look so uncomfortable but for now he pushed the feeling away. He had to do what he came here to do – return the wand – then he would be home and this would all be over. He could go back to The Burrow, safe in the knowledge that he had done everything he needed to in regards to Malfoy, and move on with his life.

"I'll just, I'll be in my office, in case they pick up on it. Say you asked for me to leave, Mister Potter? Malfoy, you know where to find me, as soon as he leaves. Paperwork to sign." The wizard finished his flustering and left the room in a sweep of robes before anyone could respond further.

"Here, Mister Malfoy, you may use my wand. Using Mister Potter's may interfere with the allegiance of the wands involved as your wand has it currently works for him, don't want to confuse the magic anymore. Mister Potter, the Floo will remain open until such a time when you leave. I'm afraid I must return to the grounds and check on the rebuilding status. I trust I will see yourself, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger come September?" McGonagall asked, handing Malfoy her wand as she gazed toward Harry.

"You will, Professor. Thank you." Harry replied, returning the witches knowing smile before she swept from the room.

Harry was suddenly aware he was alone with Malfoy. Well, as alone as you could be with almost a hundred ex- headmasters and headmistresses watching from their frames. However, this thought did little to quell a twisting feeling that had been brought up as soon as McGonagall had mentioned the rebuilt. He moved to the window, gazing out across the grounds.

The walls of the castle that his position enabled him to see were mostly repaired, with a group of wizards gathered round sliding what appeared to be a final few stones into place. Looking out across the grounds, however, told a different story. Harry swallowed thickly to fight the rise of emotion, blinking to fight back the tears threatening to flood his eyes as he saw the quidditch pitch. It was nothing but a burnt out shell. Only one of the four stands remained, swaying precariously despite the still August air.

"Awful, isn't it?" Malfoy whispered from behind him as if reading his thoughts, his words more a statement than a question. Harry nodded somewhat numbly, wrenching his gaze from the window and turning back to Malfoy. As his eyes left the pitch and returned to the blonde he couldn't help thinking to himself that Malfoy appeared just as broken, though he hid it well.

"That was quite clever, Potter, very cunning… Almost believed you myself." Malfoy said, undoubtedly referring to his earlier berating of Malfoy's parole officer.

"Well, the Sorting Hat did want to put me in Slytherin." Harry shrugged, unable to explain where the sudden admission had come from. To his credit Malfoy appeared to take it with indifference although Harry noted the tell-tale flash of emotion – surprise – in his eyes. "So, let's get this over with." He said uncomfortably, drawing Malfoy's wand from his pocket.

Malfoy nodded, pulling McGonagall's wand to his side, flexing it almost carefully in his fingers and Harry knew he was getting used to the feel of different magic in his hands. Harry shifted himself somewhat awkwardly, unsure how to stand. He was willingly going to allow Malfoy to disarm him, so positioning himself for a duel wasn't appropriate, yet he didn't just want to stand there…

"Ready?" Malfoy asked, shaking him from his thoughts. In response Harry merely nodded, lifting Malfoy's want to his side and grasping it firmly – he knew that for the spell to work the magic would need to feel that its owner wanted to retain the wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy called, pointing McGonagall's wand, shooting a stream of red light towards Harry which freed him of Malfoy's wand in an instant. Malfoy caught his wand with ease, the reflexes of a seeker that Harry recognised well. He watched for a moment, seeing the happiness that Malfoy did not attempt to mask as he was returned his wand, rolling the familiar wood through his fingertips.

"I'll be going, then…" Harry muttered somewhat awkwardly, turning to the fireplace only a few steps across the room. "I suppose I'll be seeing you in September." He added, unsure how else to end the highly irregular meeting.

"Yes… I suppose you will." Malfoy replied. Despite his straight face there was a strange look in his eyes that Harry couldn't quite place, making him feel a little uneasy. Breaking the gaze he turned and without looking back disappeared into the flames and back to The Burrow.

Harry stepped from the flames and checked his watch, half past 12. Merlin, he'd only been gone for half an hour but it felt an entire day had passed. A faint rumble in his stomach reminded him that with the tension of the meeting he'd skipped breakfast. Surely, the Weasley's would be gathered in the kitchen soon, Mrs Weasley making a delicious lunch…

"Harry?" A tentative voice asked, snapping him from his daydreams of food. He turned to see Ginny, standing somewhat awkwardly by the entrance to the room almost as if she'd been waiting for his return. "Can I have a word?"

Managing the best smile he could Harry gave a nod "Sure, shall we… er…" He trailed off, nodding toward the overstuffed armchairs by the fire. With a thankful nod Ginny took a seat as Harry did the same. The silence was tense and awkward, strained as neither of them really knew where to look. Harry cringed inwardly to himself, he knew this conversation had been a long time coming, he really just had to find his backbone and get it over with.

"I'm sorry, I know I said I'd –"

"I'm sorry, I know you've been bu-"

Both voices broke the silence at the same time and despite themselves, both chuckled softly. Instantly feeling a little more relaxed Harry took the ease in tension as an opportunity to look over at the redhead sitting in front of him.

"I am sorry, I know I said I'd talk to you after it was all over, I've just…" He trailed off, the ease in the room suddenly fading as the tension resurfaced, floundering with the weight of the words he didn't know how to say.

"I know," Ginny replied kindly, her eyes telling him that – although she may not like it – she understood. "That's why I thought, with us all going back to school and all, it'd be better to get this out now. I'm guessing I just… I mean…"

"You have every right to ask," Harry assured her, feeling a stab of guilt for the look in her eyes. "It's just… We all thought everything would just go back after the war and… Well… I suppose it just…"

"Not everything works out, Harry, even if we want it to." She said softly, her brown eyes now full of sadness which made the stab of guilt in Harry's stomach press deeper.

"I want you to be happy. I thought… before the war… that when it was all over I'd be able to but… I can't." Harry cringed at the feeble excuse in his own words, trying to ignore the response to Ginny's words that echoed in his mind, when she had said 'even if we want it to' Harry's instant thought had been 'what if I didn't want it to'.

"I was afraid you'd say that." She said, a soft, sad smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe…. You just need time?"

The hope in her eyes made Harry need to look away; down at the floor, out of the window, anywhere but Ginny. The stab of guilt had now turned into a sea that was drowning him, telling him subconsciously that time was the last thing he needed, that even if he lived to be as old as Nicholas Flamel, time would never be enough. Why? He asked himself. There was nothing wrong with Ginny. She was smart, kind, certainly attractive… Yet she wasn't right, she wasn't enough, she wasn't what he needed. What else could he need? Tearing himself from his own frustrations, he realised he'd left silence for some time. Although words still failed him he returned is gaze, trying his best to offer a reassuring smile.

As if sensing not to push him further, Ginny rose to her feet and said "Mum's waited for you to start lunch, it should be ready soon." With that, she swept from the room and Harry tried his hardest to tell himself he had imagined the sniff of tears as she left.

As he sat round the table for lunch Harry found his earlier appetite well and truly lost. He dutifully ate from the pile of sandwiches before him, allowing the conversation around the table to carry over him as he focused anywhere but Ginny.

"We're going for a fly this afternoon mate, you fancy it?" Ron asked him, obviously eager to make the most of freedom before they returned to Hogwarts. Harry was sure in that moment it was the best idea that Ron had ever had.

"Harry?" A soft hand on his arm held him back in the hallway as he left to get his broom. He turned, thankful to find that it wasn't the girl he'd been refusing to look at all through lunch, but Hermione. Not that he had been looking at Hermione – no, not at all. Harry strongly doubted that even his status as best friend, Chosen One, and saviour of the wizarding world would stop Ron beating him to a pulp if he thought he was after his girlfriend.

"She didn't expect anything, you know." Hermione told him, taking his silence as an invitation to speak. "Hoped, definitely… But she didn't expect. In all honesty I think she already knew, she just needed you to tell her."

Hermione was definitely too wise for her own good, Harry thought as she pulled him into a hug, she knew just how to make him feel better.

"I'm happy for you, for you and Ron," Harry told her as he pulled from the hug, suddenly needed to cling to the thought of a good relationship out there in the world. "I don't think I ever said, but I am… You deserve to be happy."

The smile on the witches face before him widened at the mention of Ron's name, yet it turned sad, almost wistful, once again as she returned his words. "So do you Harry… And you will be."

"HARRY!" A voice hollered from outside, reminding him that he should be getting his broom.

"Go on, enjoy yourself." Hermione smiled, pointing her wand up the stairs and calling "Accio Harry's Firebolt!"

"I always forget about that…" He chucked, red faced as he took the broom and disappeared to join his friends.

As it turned out, flying that afternoon was definitely the best idea Ron had ever had. They flew for hours, tossing old quaffles between them in a mock game of Quidditch and raced from one end of the Burrow to another. Harry pushed himself until his limbs ached relishing in the freedom it gave him.

That night as he climbed into bed he was exhausted. Spent from the emotional and physical force of his day Harry tumbled into the covers, so tired that on this occasion he failed to notice the feathered wings that fluttered down to settle on the window ledge, and the piercing grey eyes that stared in.