A/N: For those that follow this story you may or may not have seen but I've added a sort of prologue to chapter 1. This was basically to introduce certain themes of the story earlier to new readers. (Seeing as previously it's not until chapter 5 where we get to the nitty gritty of Hermione and Draco) It's not essential reading, it doesn't change the plot in any way, but you may be interested none the less. I've also re written parts of the first chapter. Mainly to make the writing a little better, (I hope!) but also to tie in the prologue. The only part that has majorly changed is the first interaction between Hermione, Al, James and Harry. Hopefully it's an improvement as before I couldn't really even think about that scene without seriously cringing!

A/N 2: Thank you to I love Music, Lexie-king, HarryPGinnyW4eva, LanaLee1 and CrazyPhenom for your reviews and observations! If you guys found that last chapter half as hard/sad/horrible to read as I found writing it, then I'm sorry! Also - CrazyPhenom, Scorp so isn't a juvenile delinquent! He's just 'misunderstood' ;)

Disclaimer: Did anyone else read that tweet from J.K Rowling last week? The one that said: 'All these people saying they never got their Hogwarts letter: you got the letter. You went to Hogwarts. We were all there together.' If this line didn't move me an embarrassing amount, then I own Harry Potter.

Chapter 13 - An Urgent Student Welfare Issue

"Laura. Laura!" Hermione's urgent voice called through to the room outside her office. She was still brushing off the floo powder from her shoulders as she sat down behind her desk and her assistant bustled in. "There you are! Good morning! Run me through the schedule for this morning." Laura passed Hermione a cup of coffee and began to fumble through a collection of files until she had found the day's incredibly complicated, nearly indecipherable colour coded timetable her boss had issued the week before. Hermione took a sip of the coffee, brought out a mirror and a small cosmetics bag and began to do her makeup while she listened.

"Morning A: 8-9am meetings with Potion department to go over upper school summer term curriculum. 9-10am the muggle psychologist is giving the seminar on discipline, 10-11am meetings with Art department to discuss their budget, 11-12pm the meeting with Mr Montgomery." Hermione rolled her eyes at her reflection as she brushed on mascara. Simpering up to old men who were thinking about bequeathing their fortune to the school was not a part of the job she had anticipated.

"Okay, and morning B?" To most people that would have seemed busy enough, but with term due to start in just a couple of weeks, the advantages one could achieve from bringing in the controlled use of a time turner was not something she could overlook. It was only a temporary measure of course.

"8-9am meetings with English department, 9-10am you've got an interview scheduled for a new football coach."

"CV?" Hermione interrupted. A piece of paper was thrust into her hand and she glanced away from the mirror and scanned the text. He's a squib, played for a minor league team, been coaching for ten years... Sounds fine. "Can you interview him?"

"Me!? I don't know anything about football! Is that the one where you kick a ball?" Laura flapped her hand uselessly. Hermione had to employ a great deal of effort not to roll her eyes. She hated it when people lived up to the bad stereotypes of their houses like this. Hufflepuffs should never come out with comments like that.

"Yes. Foot - ball? It's pretty self explanatory. Just ask him about his coaching successes. And make sure we have a criminal records check on him, I don't want any creeps slipping through the net." Laura reddened as she made another note.

"10-10.30 I've put you down for a nap,"

"Laura! I told you! No napping! Good, that's half an hour free." Hermione said, not looking up from patting in the concealer into the dark circles under her eyes, missing the raised eyebrows from her assistant.

"10.30-11 meeting with Martine to go over her limits of student confidentiality as a counsellor, and 11-12 - "

"Yes I know, a meeting with Orla Quirke to discuss our next big PR adventure. Okay..." Hermione paused while she zipped up the bag of makeup and smoothed her frizzier than normal hair behind her ears. She'd been in such a rush this morning she hadn't even had time to go through her usual straightening routine.

"Okay this is easy. English can stay where they are on morning B, shift the psychologist to morning B, but same time. Sue from accounts will be fine by herself telling Art they can't have any more money so we can cancel that. I want you to reschedule Orla to 10-11, and so can you please apologise to Martine and say that I've had to reschedule due to an urgent student welfare issue that needs my attention, so she should understand..."

"Why are you doing all this, Hermione?" Laura had stopped scribbling on the timetable and was looking at her boss in confusion. They never broke from the schedules. It was basically the law. Hermione ducked her head and busied herself rearranging her desk.

"I need from 9-12 free in morning A. I told you, an urgent student welfare issue has arisen."

"That needs your personal attention?" Hermione's eyes shot up to meet Laura's.

"Well if you must know, I'm doing a Diagon Alley trip."

"But you know those are scheduled for next week! We've still got a few teachers who have spaces left. Do you want me to allocate the student to one of those?" Laura was frowning and Hermione decided that that was the end of their meeting. She had a potions curriculum to reacquaint herself with over half an hour and she didn't like where this conversation was going. She got out the teacher's notes and started thumbing through them pointedly.

"No, Laura, this is one that I need to do personally." She opened a drawer and heaved out her old copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

"But who is it?" The girl wouldn't take a hint and drop it. Hermione opened the book at random and pretended to read the ingredient list for a potion to reverse the effects of morning sickness. Hmm, how useful for me. She glanced back up at Laura who was still waiting for an answer. Hermione sighed.

"Scorpius Malfoy." As predicted Laura's eyebrows shot up. "I'd prefer if you could keep this between ourselves?"

"Of course." Was that a small smirk she saw on her assistant's face as she left the room? Maybe Hermione shouldn't have been so bitchy about the football coach after all.

Draco swore as yet another pancake he was attempting to unstick from the pan broke apart. Scorp still talked about his mother's amazing muggle pancakes all these years later and Draco had a lot of making up to do that morning. So much that even pancakes may not cut it, but he was trying to be optimistic. He studied the 'basic' muggle cookbook, trying to find where he was going wrong. The instructions were absurdly simple. Maybe not enough butter?

He glanced at his son's shut bedroom door. Draco had already tried to knock twice but he knew he was being subjected to the silent treatment. He took the pan off the heat, scraped the broken batter on to the reject plate, (which was already pretty full,) and walked back over to the door.

"Scorp? Breakfast is nearly ready. Are you -" The door was wrenched open and for a second he felt an irrational flare of hope that things would be okay. But the blue eyes he met were cold and narrowed and told Draco exactly how very unforgiven he was. A second later the boy barged past him and stalked into the bathroom. Draco returned to the oven, adjusted the flame, scooped a larger knob of butter into the pan and watched it melt. He deserved that. He deserved so much worse. "Shit dad", little face screwed up in hatred, that awful sinking feeling those words delivered like a punch, as his own anger rushed away leaving him bereft and self aware. How had he so monumentally fucked everything up?

He would never admit it to anyone, could barely admit it to himself, but it was Potter's letters that provided the spark of hope that helped him break away from the depression that had engulfed him since Friday. He had never felt so deeply lost, so hopeless. Even the building anxiety that was the awareness of Scorp's needs seemed to paralyse him further. Usually that was enough to motivate himself to fight against the maelstrom of his thoughts, but something had been different that day and then the next. He just couldn't find it in him to be confronted by the damage he must be causing his son. An incapacity and cowardice that was like a degenerative sickness.

At first Draco had ignored the letters, (he couldn't face the flashbacks to those conversations) but then the words began to sink in. They were simple, un-judging and although he searched, Draco had failed to find any hint of mockery or threat within them. They had helped him understand what he was feeling, and introduced him to the idea that gradually helped him break away from his debilitating thoughts: that maybe it wasn't just his own weakness and ineptitude that was causing these feelings but possibly an after effect of the muggle drugs. Potter's explanation, that the high had to be equally balanced by a low, made logical sense. He just now had to wait for it to pass...

Through the haze of that relentless melancholy the letters also delivered the strange impression that maybe Harry's kindness the other day had been genuine and not just done out of humour or some other twisted incentive. That maybe, Harry had wanted to return the friendship Draco had so embarrassingly admitted he wanted. The delicate, tremulous thought barely had time to form before Draco hastily crushed it. That was not the type of idea he could afford to nurture. Of course Harry's efforts were motivated by a desire for his son's wellbeing, rather than out of concern for Draco himself.

Still, it was a curious feeling to be on the receiving end of someone's goodwill, no matter how inspired by pity it was, and particularly seeing who it came from. Draco didn't know how he should feel about it. Outraged? Embarrassed? - Grateful? It had cost him a great deal of pride, but purely for the sake of Scorp, he had decided not to completely burn that bridge. No matter how much shame he felt over his behaviour towards Potter there could be no denying the good it would potentially do for his son. And while Draco knew he was a lost cause, Scorpius certainly was not.

Although it was Potter's letters of course that had caused the latest mess. He had awoken yesterday afternoon with a revived urge to reconnect and talk to his son, to undo the damage of his neglect. This soon turned into worry that developed into desperation as a loop around the estate to look for him lengthened into two hours of searching when Scorp was nowhere to be found. Finally Draco had returned to the flat feeling on the brink of panic. It wasn't like his son to vanish without leaving a note, and if he had, he could usually be found played out in the square... He turned the flat upside down looking for any hint of where Scorp could be and so eventually found the open letter from Harry, slipped down the back of his dresser with a single, burnt sausage. He hadn't known whether to laugh or cry.

That rush of relief, that Scorpius was safe and with Potter, that it was just paranoia and extreme guilt making him feel so awful, quickly returned to worry as he thought about his little boy traveling alone on the underground, and then spending time with Harry and his sons, laughing and playing in a way that Draco had been unable to do. He had fought against the jealously, knowing of course, that it was he that had driven his own son away to find comfort in another. Draco was determined to rise above it, but the hours dragged on, his panic returned and it was finally the sound of Potter's voice outside his door that really set him off. Though the anger was at himself, he naturally took it all out on Scorp.

Shit dad. Draco broke another pancake.

Hermione stifled a yawn as she tried in vain to hold on to the thread of conversation with the potions professor. Whether it was due to tiredness at being kept up by her thoughts last night, or that her anticipation for the visit to the Malfoy home was too distracting, she found she could not focus on what the man in front of her was saying at all. Maybe it was just deep exhaustion catching up with her after a month and a half of squeezing in an extra hour or four into each day.

None the less, she was seriously worried. If seeing Draco Malfoy unbalanced and high off what she was sure was just an accident had given her a slight cause for concern, then it was a conversation she'd had with Harry that made her fully committed to the Malfoy cause.

She had been on the sofa reading when the floo began to chime the night before. It was a firecall from Harry and he was really worked up about something.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"Harry, are you alright? Has something happened?" She dropped the book and rushed over to sit in front of the flames.

"Yes, I would come over but I don't want to leave the boys alone again."

"Again? Where have you been?" Harry took a deep breath.

"I just dropped Scorpius back home."

"Oh that's brilliant! Your letters worked then? They came over?"

"No."

"Then how?"

"Scorpius turned up here alone a couple of hours ago, in a complete state. He was crying, covered in dirt and bruises, practically in shock."

"He was hurt!?"

"Yes, I don't think he knew where else to go, he was scared of going home,"

"Was it Malfoy! Did he hurt him?"

"No!"

"How do you know!?"

"I just do, okay?"

"Harry, I know you like to see the best in people, but this is serious -"

"I used Legilimency on him! Alright? It wasn't Malfoy."

"Oh, Harry..."

"Don't Hermione. I feel bad enough breaking his trust, but the boy isn't afraid of lying, and he does it well and a lot."

"Who was it then? What did he tell you?"

"He said he'd been in a fight with some muggle kids, but that wasn't what I saw... They were adults. I was only in there for a second, but it was enough to see that. When I took him home he was scared. He expected someone to be waiting for him I think. Hermione, I feel so powerless. Something serious is going on with that family, but unless Malfoy lets me, there's no way I can do anything. It's so fucking frustrating. Please, I need you to do something drastic. Scorpius had a panic attack after I confronted him! He made me swear not to tell his dad about the attack, thinks it will upset him too much. Apparently Malfoy hasn't spoken or left his room for days... I have no idea if he's even opened any of my letters. I don't know what to do, maybe Scorpius is right. We don't want to make things worse for them."

Hermione had been relieved that her own letter had been answered so quickly, but in a way, that was equally as worrying. What was clear was that Scorpius Malfoy was in serious trouble and the fact he was going to people he barely knew for help, rather than his own father, was seriously alarming. Ordinarily the way forward would have been simple; to approach the parent and share her worries and work on a solution together. But Draco Malfoy was clearly in as much trouble as his son, and what was worse, seemed to be doing it to himself.

Harry's acceptance of Scorpius's decision to keep what had happened to him a secret made Hermione uncomfortable. Fundamentally the whole notion of protecting a parent from his child was wrong and she refused to agree to it before she had seen Malfoy's state for herself. She prayed what she found was not what Harry had described and she would be able to talk to the man frankly. Her stomach gave a tiny flip in apprehension.

Scorpius sunk into his chair at the table and gave his plate a disgusted look. Draco looked down at his own and tried his best not to match his son's expression.

"Look, if you just put on the sugar, they're still like pancakes, but just chopped up! Like how they'd be after you chewed them anyway..." He chanced a look at Scorp to see the eye roll. "Scorpius." The boy refused to look up at him. "Please Scorp." Nothing. There was no way he'd even give so much as a nod if Draco tried to apologise to him now. And to be honest, how feeble was the word 'sorry' to communicate everything he needed to? Especially after his repetitive use of it over the summer.

He decided on a different approach. Actions spoke louder than words. "I thought perhaps I could take you over to Harry's house this week." The boy's head glanced up and his eyes widened a fraction.

"Really?" His voice was small and hopeful. Draco smiled, thank Merlin he wasn't a teenager yet. His ability to hold the infamous Malfoy sulk hadn't fully developed.

"Yes. I mean, first we need to go and buy you an owl so we can actually contact them..." But Scorpius' face had closed into a frown again and he was back to glaring at the plate of broken batter. Draco felt his heart sink. "Scorp? What did I say wrong?" The boy gave a dramatic sigh.

"Why are you so obsessed with buying me stuff?" He said to his plate. Draco was stumped.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to buy me anything! I don't like it!" Draco frowned, this again. of course he always forgot how different Scorpius was to himself at eleven. There was nothing Draco had liked more than been taken on a spontaneous shopping trip into London by his mother and father, but here was his own son refusing even an owl.

"Listen Scorp, I'm going back to my mother's this morning. I need to check up on her and talk to her about a few things. While I'm there I'll see if there's anything else she's willing to give me. I saw your books and materials list this morning so it would be good to have a little extra money for when we need to go back to Diagon Alley. It would be useful for us both to have an owl! I was thinking later on this week..." Draco trailed off, taking in his son's anxious face. "What's wrong?" His son shook his head. "Please talk to me. If this is about those pills-" Draco really hadn't wanted to talk about that, but he would do whatever it took for Scorpius to forgive him.

"No! It's not! I know you've got rid of them!" Draco forced himself to hold Scorp's trusting gaze and felt dirty.

"Then what's wrong?"

"You don't need to take me back to Diagon Alley."

"Scorp, I want to! I know last time went... a bit wrong, but I promise I'll do better this time! If you're that worried about money we don't need to buy you an owl." But his son shook his head and glanced at the clock.

"Miss Granger is coming over to take me." He said in a rush. Draco's eyes widened and the forkful of pancake he'd been lifting to his mouth fell to the plate with a clang. "She'll be here in half an hour!" What?

"She's coming here? Now?" He repeated, stupidly. Scorp nodded. "She's taking you to get your school books?"

"Please don't be mad." Scorp's eyes looked at him beseechingly. But Draco wasn't mad. He felt stunned. He had thought he'd have time - time to prepare himself for wizarding London - time to deal with and know how to move forward from his behaviour the other day - How he had behaved to Hermione Granger... He thought of the muggle pills and their easy feeling of floating detachment. "Father! I'm sorry! I was angry last night, she owled and I said yes before I thought about it! Please don't be upset!" Draco blinked and focused on Scorpius.

"I'm not upset."

Hermione's leg was tapping unconsciously as she counted down the minutes to nine o' clock. The Potion master's voice droned on and on and didn't seem to be coming to an end. Finally the clock struck the hour and she jumped to her feet.

"Brilliant, I can't wait to see the new method put into practice." She gave the man a bright smile, packed up her books and strode from the classroom to get her bag. She found Orla Quirke sitting in her office. Hermione's purposefulness faltered as she took in the crossed arms and frown.

"What's this I hear about you rescheduling our meeting because you're taking the Malfoys to Diagon Alley?" the witch said, archly. Hermione sighed, shooting a glare at Laura through the open door. She would be having words with her later for this.

"Malfoy. Singular. I'm taking Scorpius, not his father."

"You do know how this looks, don't you? The one pureblood in the school, being taken on a shopping trip by the Headmistress herself. Rather seems a bit like - special treatment."

"Of course not." Hermione said brusquely.

"You can't give out mixed messages, Hermione. Either you're completely unbiased and treat every student the same, or you're taking the scion of the Noble House of Malfoy out for an exclusive breakfast."

"I'm not taking him out for breakfast, Orla! This is a private matter. The boy is having problems, I'd be doing this to any other student if I thought they needed it." Orla looked unimpressed. "Look, not everything is about PR, or doing what looks best. I have to do this, I've made a promise."

"God, I forgot how noble you Gryffindors are. Well as long as you don't get photographed. Particularly if the elder Malfoy decides to come. I know he's good looking and no one can deny that disgraced Slytherin bad boy aura isn't attractive, but he is a known blood purist, not to mention a Death Eater."

"Was." Hermione automatically corrected. "Draco isn't coming. You don't have to worry."

"Worrying about this is my job." Orla snapped.

"Excellent, and that's why I pay you so well. Now please leave me to my job." Hermione dropped her folders on the desk, picked up her bag, gave Orla a brisk smile and strode from the room. "I'll see you in an hour!" She called over her shoulder.

Draco stood in the shower, the hot water pounding on his back, trying to come up with reasons why Hermione Granger coming round to their flat wasn't a complete disaster. She must have heard about his episode. Scorpius must have told Potter, who told Granger... He banged his head against the tiles, feeling like the victim of some kind of noble Gryffindor intervention. No, I am not a victim. This isn't about you, this is about Scorp. He could try to turn this into an opportunity to show Granger he wasn't a completely incompetent father. Potter had sworn never to take his son away, but Granger was in a different position, one of technical authority, and she did have the power to intervene in their lives if she thought she needed to.

So far each time they'd met he'd managed to fuck up somehow. Called her a mudblood, been high, threatened her, acted like a complete, fucking idiot. Shit dad. No, not this time. He had to make a good impression. Maybe this was why she was coming over... Coming to assess his ability as a parent. With good reason to. People probably got children taken off them for less, especially these days, and especially with vultures like the Greengrasses circling. Going back to Diagon Alley would be horrible, but not as bad as watching Scorp go off without him with the knowledge that Granger thought him incapable of doing the trip himself. He'd have to delay the visit to his mother, to check up on her and talk to her about the many bottles of pills...

Draco moved his head under the jet to wash out the shampoo and shut his eyes as his thoughts once again returned to the muggle drugs. He had come close just now. Close to forgetting all the shit that came with the bliss the moment something scary had come up. He was so weak it was pathetic.

The pill bottle had remained shut ever since that Friday morning and Draco intended to keep it that way. But he hadn't banished them. Slowly his magic had returned, and though many times his wand had been merely inches from completing the spell, the motion had wavered. Draco had to come to the unsettling realisation that he just felt better if the bottle was still around. It was like an insurance, it wasn't hurting anyone. No matter how bad he felt in that moment he found it a small comfort that something close at hand was capable of making him feel so instantaneously wonderful.

Though of course he could fantasise about it, he'd never dream of actually taking them again. He didn't need Harry's advice on that one. Apart from everything else, the absence of magic that he had felt as the drugs wore off had been the most alarming thing. More than the honesty, the lack of inhibitions, even the emotional mess he'd been left in afterwards. What it had felt like to be a muggle...

The thought still made him a twisted way he had been lucky that the pills had left him feeling so emotionally numb and empty. If Draco had been in his right state of mind he didn't think he would have been able to cope with the truly awful sensation of not sensing magic at the tip of his wand, his fingers, or in his being. The excruciating wait to find out if it would ever return was one of the worst aspects of the last few days. The memory of his mother uncaring over the location of her wand, unwilling to do magic, haunted him. Taunting him that that was also his future.

Draco did his best to ignore the extreme duality of his thinking, and refused to acknowledge how illogical he was being. Thoughts of happiness, laughter, comfort and shame and of his muggleness, he did with them what he always did when presented with things he couldn't process: mentally locked them away where he didn't have to confront them. Just like the pill bottle. Hidden physically and magically. No one, especially Scorpius, would be able to find evidence of either.

He stepped from the shower and grabbed a towel. No, turning up high off muggle drugs to meet Hermione Granger with his son was the worst idea he'd ever had, he couldn't even believe it had entered his mind.

Hermione furiously tried to smooth down her hair as she walked along the road from Bethnal Green station. The wind on the platform had whipped it up into a frenzy and the humidity of the muggy, overcast day was helping to raise it up into an untameable explosion of frizz. When the smoothing only seemed to make matters worse, Hermione tried to tell herself how stupid she was being. She was here on professional business, no one cared about her hair.

She turned off the road and into a bleak muggle council estate. She frowned and double checked the address the boy had sent her, but everything seemed to be correct. They live here? She remembered Malfoy Manor and the albino peacocks, the vast lawns, the marble floor where she had been struck down and tortured... Hermione breathed in and out banishing that thought. It was long in the past, apparently just like Malfoy's old life and his standard of living. A couple of mangy foxes, a sad square of dead grass and vast swathes of graffitied concrete were the components of this landscape.

After finding the lift was broken and an exhausting climb up the stairs of their high rise, Hermione found herself outside their flat. She took a deep breath, feeling flushed and suddenly nervous and knocked on the door. It was opened by an equally nervous looking Scorpius. Hermione gave him a smile and a quick visual inspection. His face seemed a little pinched and tired, but physically he seemed fine. Harry's healing must have been thorough as his skin was white and unblemished. Behind him, Hermione could see Draco standing from the sofa. He came up behind his son, opened the door wider and gave her an uncertain smile. He didn't look good and if anything, worse than the other day, but she was hugely relieved to see he was up and was at least trying to appear normal.

"Miss Granger."

"Mr Malfoy." She smiled back, quietly relieved that he had initiated a formal greeting. It took away any decisions that she had failed to make on how to communicate with him based on their last couple of exchanges. Accosting him while drunk in Harry's upstairs hallway on Friday had been a particularly bad impulse of hers. She really wasn't sure where she stood anymore with him. Professionally, or personally. It unnerved her.

Did he just look at my hair? Before she could stop it one of her hands had traitorously whipped up to smooth it down and Malfoy's smile became wider. Though it didn't seem malicious. Hermione felt herself blush at the same time that Malfoy looked away, the smile falling into slight frown. Was he thinking about the other day as well? That moment by the sink?

Hermione knew her awkwardness wasn't just due to her embarrassment over her Hogwarts level of hair frizz, or even that she knew Malfoy actually had a strong opinion on her hair. Really, it was because despite all of her other current worries and concerns, she was suddenly aware that she actually cared about his opinion. Where had that come from?

"Hello Scorpius, are you ready to go?" She focussed on the boy, embarrassed for being so ridiculous. He nodded and looked falteringly at his dad.

"If it's alright, I'd like to come too." Malfoy told her. Hermione noticed Scorpius's eyes widen slightly. There were so many strange dynamics going on she didn't know how to take it.

"Scorpius, it's up to you?" She looked at the boy instead of his father.

"Um, I didn't tell my father about this until just now... But if he wants to..." He said to the floor with a shrug. Hermione nodded.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault I didn't get the message, not Scorp's. If you don't want me to come, Miss Granger, of course I'll stay at home. We don't want to waste your time." She lifted her gaze to the wizard and took in how anxiously he was watching her for a reaction.

She wavered briefly between her options. On the one hand it would be good to be able to talk to Scorpius alone, see if he could open up to her without his dad there. Despite her misgivings over keeping Malfoy in the dark if that was the only way to get him to talk then so be it. And things were clearly not OK between the pair. She could pick up the subtle undertones of tension even if it wasn't obvious. The slight physical distance between them, the fact Scorpius had yet to smile, let alone make eye contact with either of them, his closed body language and the slight puffiness he had around his eyes.

But on the other hand Malfoy was clearly desperate to come. And that must mean he was completely serious about spending time with Scorpius, seeing as last time he'd felt it necessary to drug himself up with god knows what before making the trip. To her huge relief he certainly seemed sober this time and she didn't want to drive the two further apart by insisting he stay behind. She'd also be able assess whether he was stable enough to take Harry's story about Scorp from the night before, as she so sorely hoped he was.

There was also the more unprofessional matter or her own burning curiosity. She'd be able to observe him and finally get to the bottom of what was going on. Even now, weeks later, she still felt unable to completely pin down why they had chosen Burbage, and if Malfoy really had 'changed' as Harry was convinced. She just needed to see more proof. Yes, there were clues: the original acceptance letter, the interview, his inebriation and subsequent honesty at the barbecue, Scorpius's worrying secrets, even the place they called home. The various exchanges and meetings and flashes of unexpected personality all wound together, tangling into a deeper and even more confusing mess. It dragged Hermione's subconscious will towards a decision before she'd even acknowledged it.

Orla was going to kill her, but really, she told herself, it was her responsibility. So she gave them a slow nod. "No. No, it would be good for you to come." Malfoy's eyes widened. He'd obviously been expecting a different answer, maybe a bit of a fight. "So, can we Disapparate from here?" She said, businesslike.

"No, we can't from the flat." Malfoy said, recovering, giving her a small smile. "It's heavily warded. I'm pretty paranoid about security." They moved out into the hall and Draco locked the door with his wand, before leading them to the stairs.

"I can tell. No floo, deep in muggle London. How many people even know you're here? How to reach you?" Malfoy shrugged.

"Not many do. Most of the wizards I'm still in contact with would never set foot in a place like this so we're pretty safe." That's an interesting attitude.

They began to walk up the stairs. Scorpius was hanging back looking extremely edgy. He craned his neck over the banister, apparently trying to see to the bottom floor.

"He's checking to see if his friends are around. I can be pretty embarrassing apparently." Malfoy told Hermione with a crooked smile. She hadn't imagined he could be self deprecating, or maybe he was attempting to make her feel more comfortable? She gave him a half smile but looked back at the boy and knew he was misinterpreting things. Scorpius looked far too worried to merely be thinking about his friends.

They finally reached a door that Malfoy unlocked and re locked behind them and stepped out on to the roof.

"Leaky Cauldron?" she said. The wizard nodded and rested his hand on his son's arm. Hermione span on the spot, was whipped through space and landed ungracefully on cool flagstones. She looked up to see Malfoy helping Scorpius to his feet, both pairs of eyes darting around the pub nervously. Hermione suddenly wished she could do something to make them both more comfortable. She realised what it must be taking them to be here, especially Draco. He was watching the surrounding witches and wizards with the air of someone expecting derision and mistrust. Of course, that's what he'd probably receive if he were to approach anyone, and judging from the sideways looks they were already receiving, it was a well placed fear.

She stood up straight, ignored the rest of the room and gave them both a confident smile that she didn't feel.

"So! Flourish and Blotts first?"

Hermione Granger had changed a lot since school. Draco hadn't noticed before, given the circumstances of their previous meetings, but now he had a chance to observe her he picked up on slight differences that marked her out from the girl he had once bullied, jeered at and silently watched from afar.

There were the obvious things like the way she walked. Of course physically she wasn't weighed down by a satchel straining with heavy books, but it was more the confidence with which she carried herself. As if she knew her rightful place in the world and not only felt she deserved it, but expected it. His mother would have once been impressed by her grace, and would have been incredibly surprised to find out she was not a pureblood.

She was calmer as well. He couldn't imagine this woman would ever become almost hysterical in her eagerness to please, to answer a question right or to offer her opinion on any topic she heard, as she once was. She was harder for Draco to read; her initial reactions to situations weren't immediately obvious in the way they once had been, like she really thought about what she wanted to say before opening her mouth. Whereas once, along with most of her friends, her emotions had stood out almost comically, begging for him to take advantage of, now her face was as carefully controlled as his in their interactions. Maybe even more so. It had taken Draco by surprise when she'd come to the decision earlier that he could accompany them to Diagon Alley. Surprise that he himself had failed to cover.

There would have been something alarming about these changes if earlier that month he hadn't been on the receiving end of what, surprisingly, he was relieved to find was one of the most unchanged aspects of Granger: her ability to become easily provoked by what she perceived as the merest hint of injustice. Why he should care that she had held on to this fault was beyond him. He had purposefully induced it many times, and though it had always given him a dark satisfaction to see the girl snap and lose control, this afternoon he found that being the person she was protecting evoked a far more wholesome feeling. He felt touched and a completely stunned that anyone would ever defend him, let alone that it was her.

They were in Quality Quidditch Supplies and he had been looking at brooms with Scorpius when it had happened. By this point he'd long given up trying to suck up to the witch. She clearly wasn't falling for it and it had begun to feel a bit humiliating; as if he was back in a class with McGonagall. So he focussed all his efforts on his son. It had taken a long time for Scorp to relax and to become less distant, but by this point he had recovered a touch of his usual childlike enthusiasm. Draco had felt incredibly relieved that he seemed to have been forgiven, and perhaps things could return to normal.

"James told me that my Supreme does 0-150 miles an hour in 7.5 seconds!" He pointed to the broom they were examining. "The newest Comet, however, only does it in 10. That's only as fast as the last model of Firebolt that came out, and that was in 1993! Before I was even born!" Draco felt his heart ache in a sudden swell of happiness and love for his son. He didn't even notice Hermione observing him, nor the approach of the shop manager.

"We don't serve Death Eaters in here." The harsh voice rang out like a curse, killing the relaxed atmosphere and the ambient noise of the other shoppers. Draco's hand immediately went to Scorpius's shoulder and as he turned around he pulled the boy behind him. Draco met the stony glare of the woman before him, taking in the firm set of her mouth, her stance that offered no compromise. The burst of happiness left him as suddenly as it had arrived. He could feel the eyes of everyone watching him to see what would happen next, to see if he would kick off.

"We're just looking, we're not after trouble." He made a conciliatory gesture with his hand, the other gave Scorpius a reassuring squeeze.

"I want you to get out. You're scaring off my customers." He could feel Scorp start to shake behind him and felt a spike of anger and bitter frustration. Draco could let the words roll off him; he'd heard far worse than this, but his son didn't have such a tough shell. And Draco wanted to keep it that way. It would be best just to get them out of there before things could escalate and she could upset Scorp further. He wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders, brought him to his side and began to walk towards the door.

"I'm sorry, but I don't see any customers who are scared." Granger had stepped in front of him, blocking his exit. The shopkeeper turned her glare to the witch instead.

"They are. I just had a complaint."

"You shouldn't be submitting to the lowest common denominator. This shop is full of people, no one else seems to have a problem with my friend here." Her friend? Draco felt more stunned by that than anything the shopkeeper could throw at him.

"Let's just leave." He told her quietly. She turned her face towards him and he saw that familiar, angry look of moral outrage. Combined with her terribly bushy hair he suddenly felt sixteen again and back at school.

"This is my establishment, I have a right to serve who I want. And that doesn't include people like him." Hermione turned back to the irate woman and Draco shook himself from his split second trance.

"People like him have a right to be able to move on and get on with their lives. The child hasn't done anything to deserve this treatment. He wasn't even alive during the war." The shopkeeper's eyes darted nervously around the room. Clearly she hadn't anticipated one of the Golden Trio jumping to their defence. Draco hadn't either. It felt wholly bizarre.

He looked down at Scorpius. His face was etched in worry as he quailed under the open gazes of the surrounding witches and wizards. As if the confrontation had given them permission to inspect the boy as unashamedly as they wanted. Draco made up his mind, tightened his grip on his shoulders, and stepped around Hermione. He told her they'd be outside and strode them from the shop, shielding Scorp as best he could.

A minute later Hermione emerged behind them. She was shaking slightly and her flyaway hair seemingly crackling with static, or maybe it was magic. The overall effect was slightly alarming. Draco straightened up from where he'd been crouching, talking to Scorpius. Trying to reassure him, to regain the smile he'd worked so hard to achieve. To dispel the anxious, faraway frown.

"I'm sorry." She told them.

"For what?" Draco said. It hadn't been her fault. She made a jerky, exasperated gesture.

"For everything! It's so unfair! You shouldn't have to put up with that! The war was a long time ago! You went to Azkaban for years, you didn't walk free! People need to get over it." She was talking fast, sincerity in every look and gesture. Draco felt himself smile, a trickle of warmth spreading at her outrage on his behalf, not even just for his son. It was the first time he'd seen her displaying such overt emotion since the fateful interview day and the difference in the context of her outrage was extreme. It wasn't lost on him.

"Well, I expected it to happen sooner or later. The words don't affect me really," which was the surprising truth. Draco found the looks and whispers much harder to deal with; what he imagined people were thinking. The shopkeeper's words seemed friendly and reasonable in comparison to what was in his own head. He didn't tell Hermione this of course.

"It's Scorp that I worry about." He told her more quietly. They both looked at the boy who was stood slightly apart from them, distantly watching the passers by. To Draco's relief no one seemed to be giving them any further attention.

"But - but it just makes me so angry. That she can do that to a child. How can you just accept this?!" She asked him imploringly, lowering her voice to match his.

"I am angry. But I'm angry for him, not for me. Of course it's not right that he has to suffer for my mistakes, but that's how it is." Just like I had to suffer for my own father's. "I've accepted that and sadly, he will grow up and have to get used to it too. I can't do anything about it. It's everything the Malfoy name stands for, our role as a family in the war. Our support of the Dark Lord was so public, so widely known. I can't expect people to get over that." He explained patiently. He wasn't even trying to appear unaffected to win points with the witch. He found himself talking completely honestly.

"Even after so long? You went to Azkaban! You aren't the same person any more." She said, repeating herself in indignation. "You really aren't. Are you?" Her voice had become calmer, almost wondrous and Draco felt himself squirm at the directness of her gaze. The way she seemed to be trying to glimpse the real Draco, whoever that was. At least, he belatedly realised later on, perhaps this had meant he'd passed whatever test the witch had been putting him through.

"But I did fight for the wrong side, people won't forget. I don't know who that woman was. My actions may have led to her sister, or cousin or uncle being killed," he said, attempting to draw the witch away from delving into such personal depths and making any more uncomfortable observations.

"How are you so calm about this?" He shrugged, smiling slightly as her voice wavered.

"What else can I do? It happened a long time ago. The only thing slightly within my control is the extent to which I can protect Scorp from it all. It's one of the reasons I'm sending him to your school. At least there he's unlikely to encounter as much prejudice." Suddenly the boy was wound around his torso with a needy urgency. Draco rubbed his hands across his shoulders, alarmed at the sudden contact. It wasn't like Scorp to be demonstrative in public.

"Hey, are you alright?" Scorpius was staring up towards Gringotts with what could only be described as a look of fear. Draco frowned and followed his gaze. There was nothing that stood out, just a few witches and wizards milling around, some waiting, some walking. But Scorpius looked like he had seen a ghost. "Who is it Scorp?"

"Please can we just go?" His face was pressing into his father's side and Draco could only just make out the words. He looked up to Hermione who was watching them worriedly. Maybe Scorp had just had enough of being the subject of their conversation.

"Of course." He stroked the silky blond hair and shrugged at the witch. She checked her watch.

"I've still got an hour before I need to get back. What do you say we get out of here, go somewhere where we're a bit more... anonymous?" Draco raised an eyebrow. She wanted to spend more time with them? That was unexpected, and - nice.

"Muggle London?" He asked. Hermione seemed to be watching him even more intently than usual and nodded. "What do you say Scorp?" A muffled sound of assent. He smiled at her. "Sure, where do you have in mind?"