A/N reminder – I don't own any of these characters. Also, got a message from someone about using italics – sorry to be unclear. I use it for emphasis and for thoughts that occur directly, not flashbacks. Thanks for bearing with me! Excited to move the story on!
"This seems rather pointless, if you ask me," Harry called out into the fireplace. Ron was beside him, nodding lazily – perhaps not quite following the arguments, Draco thought.
"It is most certainly in Minerva's prerogative to act in your best interest," spoke a solemn Kingsley through the embers. "It is imperative that the Ministry does not overstep the decisions of the new Hogwarts Headmistress as the school is also re-establishing its presence, Mr. Potter."
"But we've nothing left to learn in bloody school, we've already worked so-"
"Harry!" Hermione called out in exasperation. "Would you stop being a child?!"
Harry and Ron whipped their heads toward the witch in surprise. Only Draco tried to steady his gaze out the window, though he could feel the command and power that was flowing off her from across the room.
"For Godric's sake!" she harrumphed. "Our entire world is stitching itself together after having gone completely mad. And you two are trying to fix the system because you are too lazy and… and-selfish to put up with a few lessons!? You are both incorrigible!"
Draco thought he heard the fireplace sigh with relief. Kingsley dismissed himself quietly, and left the Golden Trio to stare at one another.
Ron, embarrassed stalked out of the room, and Hermione stood her ground until she saw she wasn't getting through to her stubborn, hot-headed friend. Frustrated, she let out a slow breath as she held her ground.
Harry stood, squinting slightly in her direction, waiting for her to react. To Draco, the stand-off seemed like ages, then suddenly:
"I. Am not. Going to waste my time there," Harry bit out harshly.
Malfoy didn't think he felt the particular need to interject, but he found himself voicing his musings anyway. "Whether or not you would waste your time is all part of one's perspective," he said evenly, trying to ignore whatever reactions his words had on Harry and Hermione.
"Malfoy, the war is not over and done," Harry said, practically hissing as he looked between him and Hermione. "There're Death Eaters everywhere, still. And – and – well, it's because of them that many people won't get to return to Hogwarts this year."
At this, Hermione's face softened, and she made to step toward her friend, but Harry began pacing quickly.
"I can fight. I can join the fight and help out. All of us can," he said, more to himself.
Silence filled the room once more, as Harry slowed in his tracks. Then, he sat down – or plopped down – in the middle of the room, looking overwhelmed.
"I don't want to be there right now, to face Hogwarts and all," Harry said. "It's – well – a lot of it is my fault."
"Harry, no one blames you –," Hermione began to chide stepping forward.
"When you put that much weight on your shoulder, in my experience, it tends to break you," Draco said, suddenly. Both Hermione and Harry looked up confused, causing Malfoy to sight a bit inwardly. "What I mean is… it's done – the worst of it is past. And it's just… well, it's no good tormenting yourself, is it?"
"That's very… right, Malfoy," Hermione said simply.
"Surprised are you, Granger?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, before turning back to Harry. "Potter, don't be a fool and overlook all the good that you did. As someone that's responsible for… a great deal," he said, shuddering, "I can tell you that no one is looking to seriously blame the bloody-Chosen-One."
"Stop – just stop," Harry shook his head. "We know you were forced to do whatever you had to."
Malfoy wanted to believe him, but he couldn't really read his or Granger's faces. Both seemed withdrawn, as when they had waited during his last trial summons at the Wizengamot.
"Besides, I've used your wand, Malfoy," Harry reminded simply. "It did not resist firing back against – against its own side, if you could call it that. I could sense the conflict built up in whatever... whatever actions you took."
Draco looked from him to Hermione, trying to see any sort of flash or acceptance on the face of the witch in front of him.
"I guess you have both been there for those last hearings and confessions," he shrugged.
Harry nodded looking at Hermione, who pushed up the corners of her mouth mechanically as her eyes filled with – well, Draco couldn't quite tell, but he thought it was pity.
Hard to imagine a month ago that Potter would be set to console me, Draco thought, scoffing lightly at his own predicament.
With his father in Azkaban, and his mother dead, he recalled with a shudder, he hadn't had many places to go, once the Malfoy Manor had been seized by the Aurors. It had been Kingsley who came to tell him that, as a long-term residence of the Dark Lord, the Malfoy estate would be seized and heavily scrutinized for at least the remainder of the year to detect any additional dark artifacts or remnants left behind by Voldemort. His Gringotts vault was seized as well. Probably to ensure he wouldn't go spending it all on reviving some sort of Death Eater network. Who knew when he would have his wealth and home again?
After the war, he, too, had been under the custody of Aurors, as he was in possession of a Dark Mark. Once he had been deemed a victim instead of a supporter of Voldemort, he had only his mother's sister, Andromeda Black, to turn to. Andromeda Tonks, actually. Not that Draco had ever really known of her life and goings-on in such detail before. Aunt Dromeda accepted an unofficial custody of him, after assuming full legal custody of her orphaned grandson, Teddy Lupin. She lived in 12 Grimmauld Place, with what happened to be many of the Weasley kin and the entire Golden Trio. Brimming with residents as the house already was, one more wayward soul was still accepted inside.
Harry, Teddy's godfather, after all, did not wish to see Andromeda struggle with her grandson and a newly re-aquired nephew. And he had seemed oddly accepting of the circumstances once Draco had arrived. Now, here he was – trying to encourage Malfoy.
"Whatever will happen, mate, it's still clear," Draco said, shifting a bit in his seat, trying to bring the conversation back to Potter's Hogwarts term. "If I can make it through a school year, you might, too."
Harry nodded slowly, looking unconvinced.
"Unless… Unless I write to Professor Slughorn and ask him to write me some – some sort of 'exemplary wizard' clearance," Harry rushed, distractedly, getting up to rush back toward the room he was currently sharing with Ron.
Draco stared after him, incredulously. That's what he got out of that?
"Thank you for trying, Malfoy," Hermione said, seeming to smile after Harry in spite of herself. "Maybe… maybe he really does need this more than anyone."
Draco felt a pang in his stomach, just from the way she seemed to look after Potter. He couldn't imagine she'd look that way after him.
"Or maybe you're enabling him, Granger," he said, scowling lightly, no menace in his eyes.
Hermione laughed a bit at him. "Yes, well… even Harry knows I'm not done trying to convince him yet," she said leaving the room.
That was the evolution of her interactions with him, it seemed. Once Draco had arrived to Grimmauld Place, when they were alone for the first few times, she had asked him endless questions.
"So what do you know of your father's business in our fifth year, then?" she had asked once suddenly.
"Merlin, Granger, how are you not on the Wizengamot?" he'd said, grasping to think of a satisfying enough answer to her inquisition.
Then, once she'd heard his piece, she went on the offensive – quick to call into action his mistakes and his prejudices and all of it.
He'd thought if she went off about "electricity" one more time and how it makes everything so bloody perfect that he was going to have to obliviate himself. But he didn't fight her about the muggle world anymore. And he didn't mind hearing about it – a part of him was surprised to learn about what his father had always called "those primitive creatures."
Lately, though, Hermione never managed more than a few words to him, and they weren't always directed to him.
It was his fault, he knew. He had changed things between them. He had ruined everything by practically shattering their fragile (and that was putting it kindly) dynamic of friendship.
He shouldn't have ever kissed her.