Disclaimer: all characters and the wider wizarding world belong to J. K. Rowling.

Headmistress McGonagall was just finishing a floo call when they arrived. Ron had the decency to look sheepish as Hermione arrived, but she simply took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before waiting for the Headmistress.

"Thanks, Tom, send them through when you can."

Minerva extracted herself from the fireplace and observed her new arrivals.

The friendship that had blossomed between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had been a delight to witness. Not without its complications, and certainly their recent fight had been a source of much consternation but also fits of giggles between the staff, but it was a sign that things could improve. This was what the wizarding world could look forward to, this was what they had fought for.

Besides, as Poppy had pointed out, they would make adorable children and Minerva struggled to keep a smile blossoming from her face at such a serious time.

"Mister Malfoy, I can assure you your mother and aunt are quite safe; Andromeda's house is already protected by the fidelius charm-"

"Actually Headmistress," Hermione interrupted her mentor. "Draco brought me here. If you don't mind, I'd like him to stay."

Draco's eyes flicked to the petite witch a couple of steps ahead of him. Gone was the panic stricken girl of a few minutes ago and in her place stood tall a witch who had faced some of the worst the second wizarding war could offer and come out the other side, not unscathed certainly, but intact. Tempered, maybe, but not broken by any stretch.

He tried in vain to tamp down the traitorous feelings that he'd allowed to run rampant over Christmas. He reminded himself of the reason they'd flown here, her family was in danger.

They were in danger because of his family. That was sobering.

"Very well," McGonagall continued, pursing her lips. "As I was just explaining to young Mr Weasley here, we're waiting for Mr Potter and Miss Weasley to arrive from London, I asked Tom to get them to floo directly here from The Leaky Cauldron and they should be here any moment."

A few awkward moments passed before a dishevelled Harry and Ginny fell through the floo together. Ron rolled his eyes when he noticed Harry's shirt was inside out, but didn't attract attention to it, for fear of delaying the explanation further.

"As we're all assembled," McGonagall threw another shrewd look in the direction of the tall blond Slytherin standing by her door before continuing. "As you know, The Burrow was attacked. Everyone got out safely and they are currently taking shelter at Grimmauld Place - I hope you don't mind, Mr Potter, but it really was the safest place for them."

Harry nodded mutely as he held Ginny closer. They'd always agreed that if something were to happen Grimmauld was headquarters, the place they could come back to to regroup.

"Now, I can allow you to visit, make sure your families are secure, recover from the shock. I expect you all in classes on Monday morning, though, so don't dawdle."

Ron was already rushing for the floo before the Headmistress had finished. He'd lost one brother he wasn't going to lose another.

"Headmistress, what about my family?" Harry asked, his face screwing up in a grimace. "They won't be moved to the safe house, as you know."

McGonagall smiled at the young man in front of her. These people who had punished him for what he was, who, if they'd been any crueller, could easily have caused him to develop an obscurus - she suppressed a shudder. He still thought of their safety. They didn't deserve a boy like him.

"The Dursleys have just won a month-long cruise in a muggle competition they don't quite remember entering, Mr Potter, if you follow."

Satisfied that his aunt, uncle and cousin were out of harm's way, he began bundling Ginny towards the fireplace. She clung to him in her shock, not wanting to let him go, lest he disappear like he did last time, during the battle.

Hermione stood still, her forehead creased, deep in thought.

"Headmistress," she began, nervously. "I have to get to my parents-"

"Miss Granger, you know the dangers of too many memory charms," McGonagall cautioned.

Draco watched the exchange half holding his breath. There had been rumours, of course, theories as to why Granger had been in Australia, why she spent Christmas with the Weasleys instead of her family, but memory charms?

"My parents have agreed that if anything like this happened again they would move to a safe house. I've already made arrangements with the ministry in Australia, and agreed the plan with Harry, Molly and Arthur. I have portkeys, I just need to go to them."

McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief. She had worried about the long-term effects of the war on this girl but she needn't have bothered.

"Be that as it may, I don't feel comfortable sending you alone," she said, pursing her lips once more. "I could ask the Aurors to-"

"With all due respect, Headmistress," Hermione interrupted. "There isn't time. Bellatrix is moving fast and it is early morning in Australia right now. If I go now, we could be packed and back at Grimmauld Place before they usually wake."

The Headmistress considered her words carefully. She was right, of course. Her star pupil was rarely wrong when it came to matters of logic. It pained her to admit but she would have to go immediately and retrieve her parents, aurors be damned. Her eyes fell on the only other occupants of the room, staring at the young witch with a curiously blank expression.

"Mr Malfoy, would you be so good as to accompany Miss Granger?"

Draco was sure he must have misheard. He was busy watching the transformation from scared schoolgirl to warrior witch and must have missed part of the conversation. They must be talking about something else.

"I'm sorry, professor, what did you say?"

"Would you please accompany Miss Granger to retrieve her parents and settle them at the safe house?"

"Harry, wait!" Hermione yelled just as Ginny stepped into the floo to leave. He sent her off, knowing her parents would meet her and turned back to Hermione.

"Hermione, I really need to stay with Ginny-"

"Relax, Harry," Hermione stopped him before he got carried away. "I'm taking Draco, I just need you to tell him the address. Plus, you really don't want to let Arthur and Molly see you with your shirt inside out."

Harry blushed as she spelled his shirt back the right way, before turning to the other wizard.

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number 12 Grimmauld Place." He winked at the wizard, increasing his confusion. "I think you'll like it," he added before disappearing into the green flames.

"Be back for your classes on Monday, Miss Granger," the Headmistress warned. Before he had time to think about what was happening, Granger had reached into her pocket and retrieved a small cloth pouch. Opening it, a small figurine of a penguin fell out, along with some letters and keys. It was clear the pouch had an extension charm on it and Draco found himself curious to know what else was in the bag, but before he had time to wonder the penguin was thrust into his hand.

"Hold on, it has a 5 second delay."

The familiar tugging of a portkey pulled at him for longer than he ever remembered experiencing it. When it stopped, he was in a bright, airy sitting room, the moon high outside, the room warm despite the dark.

"Welcome to my parents' home. Wait here while I wake them."

Draco stood awkwardly in the living room, still holding his broom, looking at bizarrely unmoving photos of a young frizzy-haired, buck-toothed girl that seemed to clutter every flat surface. After a few minutes amusing himself poking Harry and Ron in one of the few wizarding photos in the room he heard footsteps behind him.

"It's weird that your pictures don't move, Granger. They're just staring, it's very spooky."

"Ron Weasley said the same thing when he visited," an unfamiliar male voice said. "You must be a pureblood."

Draco spun, his wand in his hand, his heart racing. Before him stood a middle-aged man with mousy brown hair and a kind face, with a puzzled expression.

"Mr Granger, I presume?"

The stranger neither confirmed nor denied his identity, but continued to stare at the blond haired wizard in front of him. Draco prided himself on not getting flustered by the silence of another. He was a Slytherin, damn it, they played these games with one another when they were bored. But faced with a muggle, potentially the parent of a school friend, he was struggling to maintain his cool.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm here with Hermione," he explained, somewhat unnecessarily, kicking himself for sounding like an idiot. "I take it she filled you in?"

The stranger continued to look at him with his perplexed expression. Not unkind, but not comforting either.

"Hermione used to talk a lot about a boy called Draco Malfoy," the stranger began. "I think I recall the words 'bully' and 'racist' being thrown around a lot, in between the crying of course."

Draco was saved from answering by the appearance of a bushy-haired witch behind the stranger.

"Dad! There you are, I take it you've met Draco?"

Mr Granger turned to his daughter and smiled.

"Would it kill you to make female friends, Mia?"

She chuckled and waved her wand so all the photos and personal items from their living room began packing themselves away in a single box. Draco stood silently by, his face burning from Mr Granger's previous comment.

He had made her cry. It wasn't a revelation, he'd been aiming for it at the time. He even wished her dead in second year, but she cried at home, in front of her parents, not just at the time of his insults? He affected her so much as to warrant a mention during the holidays?

He felt the uncomfortable weight of his misdeeds and shrank a little under Mr Granger's gaze.

"Granger we should hurry, is there anything I can do to help?"

"How are you at shrinking suitcases?" Hermione asked, whizzing around the room.

Seizing any opportunity to escape the room, he rushed to what he presumed were the bedrooms and located two suitcases, which he shrunk to fit into his pocket. He returned to the living room where they were joined by a short woman with chestnut curls streaked with grey and recognisable amber-brown eyes.

"You must be Draco," the woman exclaimed, thrusting her hand out for him to shake. "I'm Jean and this is my husband, Richard."

The man he'd met before shook his hand once before dropping it. His face was still neither cold nor comforting. Draco hadn't felt this uncomfortable in the presence of another in a long while - he was almost impressed.

Hermione reappeared, carrying a single cardboard box, which she quickly shrank and fit into her pocket.

"Draco did you get the suitcases?"

He tapped his pocket in response, and Mr and Mrs Granger's eyes boggled slightly.

"Right, I have the portkey here somewhere," Hermione mumbled as she reached elbow deep into the pouch which had previously contained the penguin portkey. She retrieved a small toy version of a black cab and held it out to them. "Um, right, well when I touch it with my wand we'll have a 5 second delay and then we'll end up in the park across the street from the safehouse. Just like we practiced in the garden, it'll be a bit of a bumpy landing so, Draco, do you think you could hold on to my dad and get him there safely?"

He nodded in response and despite what reservations he may have had earlier, Mr Granger stepped closer. He could barely remember the first time he'd travelled by portkey, his parents regularly travelled to their chateau in France, but he tried to imagine what it would be like if you knew no magic. He couldn't. It would be impossible.

His respect for Hermione for being muggle-born and still taking his world by storm grew tenfold.

"Hold on," Hermione warned as she tapped the toy with her wand and five seconds later they were transported back to London. When the swirling stopped, Draco let go of the toy and took a firm hold of Mr Granger's arm, leading him to the ground, landing if not gracefully then at least with them both upright.

The four quickly made their way out of the park and stood opposite numbers 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place.

"Mum, Dad," Hermione explained. "Remember what Harry told you last time he visited and we made these plans?" They both nodded. "Draco, you too. Remember it and it should become very clear in just a moment…"

She tailed off as she watched her parents' eyes widen at the sight of 12 Grimmauld Place appearing before them. Even Draco seemed a little stunned but he hid it quickly. She hurried the group across the street and knocked on the door. Arthur Weasley answered with his wand drawn.

"Patronus?"

Hermione obliged by slowly drawing her wand in a large circle and the silvery shining otter bounded around them. Satisfied, Mr Weasley ushered them all into the house and closed and locked the door behind them.

Everyone was gathered in the kitchen and soon Molly had tea poured and biscuits baked for everyone. George had been home at the time of the attack, but Bill and Charlie had travelled home from France and Romania to make sure their parents were safe so the kitchen bustled with Weasleys and Grangers.

Draco began to feel more and more uncomfortable as in-jokes and private smiles were shared across the table. He sat alone in a corner, still clinging to his broom. He was just debating whether he would get away with using the floo without anyone noticing when a large cat Patronus bounded into the room. Everyone fell silent as they watched the lynx stop and take note of everyone present.

"Hermione, Mr & Mrs Granger," Draco listened as the booming voice of the Minister for Magic rang out in the small kitchen. "I'm sorry to tell you that your suspicions were correct - and in fact, you got to the safehouse just in time. The house has been completely destroyed. The Australian Ministry managed to remove the dark mark from the sky and modify the memories of the neighbouring Muggles in time. It will be reported by the muggle press as a gas explosion. I'm sorry it came to this, but I'm very glad you got out in time."

The lynx turned to Hermione and she could almost picture the look Kingsley was giving her.

"Next time, please take an auror with you, Miss Granger."

The lynx dissipated even as he admonished Hermione for her lack of security. The kitchen had gone from raucous to subdued in no time.

"More tea, I think," Molly muttered as she bustled around the cramped kitchen.

Draco was floored. The bustling in the kitchen picked up again around him and he took the opportunity to slip into the hall. The fact that nobody noticed or followed him seemed to cement his view that he was simply not wanted there.

The house was a dump. The plaster in one corner of the hallway had made a bid for freedom only to be caught by the rotten wallpaper. It was dark and gloomy and whilst not technically dirty, it reeked of dark magic that made the walls feel oppressive. He was beginning to wonder why Potter had said that he'd like it when he came across a portrait with ratty velvet curtains and peeked inside.

"Mudbloods and blood traitors in my house! And you, clearly a Malfoy, here in this house with the mudbloods and filth. Mudblood lover! Blood traitor! Swine!"

Draco nearly fell over in his haste to step away from the picture. He was amazed the screaming didn't bother the muggle neighbours.

A plaque beneath the horrid portrait of the stern-looking screeching woman proclaimed her to be Walburga Black. So this was Walburga's house, the ancient and most noble House of Black? Draco shuddered at the thought of what might have happened in this house, almost as tainted as his own home. The dark walls seemed even more sinister than before as Walburga settled again, grumbling about the defiling of her house and how glad she was that her beloved Orion couldn't see the state of things.

"I see you've met Walburga," Hermione mused, a half smirk on her face and a cup of tea in each hand. "Part of me is pleased she shouts at you too. My parents are probably going to push her over the edge. Real charmers, your family."

He flinched, only slightly but it was enough for her to notice. Her face flushed immediately and pity filled her eyes again.

This was his family. His family were the reason her family were now homeless, hiding in this dark house with a handful of other victims. He'd been raised to this, to hate her kind, to fight and kill for a madman bent on power, willing to use anything to achieve his end. Walburga grumbled something unspeakable in Hermione's general direction and he saw in that portrait all his childhood, his misdeeds, his actions and inaction mirrored at him. It was more than he could bear. He was no hero, but remembering being the villain was eating him up. What possible good could he do to make up for pretty much his whole life to this point?

"Pictura cessare!"

Walburga's portrait became instantly still and quiet. Hermione stared open mouthed at the now still portrait of Walburga. She couldn't move or say anything but her eyes showed the fury she felt at being trapped.

"How did you-"

"Mother and I have had to deal with some of the nastier Malfoys," he replied, twirling his wand in his fingers and avoiding eye contact. "The spell won't hold forever, and it seems to work best if a relative casts it, but it should keep her out of your hair for a while. It's the least I can do to stop just one member of my family from hassling you."

Hermione flushed a little more but she didn't have time to reply before he nodded his head slightly and made for the front door, broom in hand.

Draco cast a quick disillusionment charm and ran across the road, disapparating from the park with a crack before the front door had even swung closed.

Jean Granger watched most of their encounter from the doorway to the kitchen. She'd known something was going on from the moment her daughter had shown up in the middle of the night with a friend who wasn't either Harry or Ron, but her suspicions had been confirmed; her little girl had a crush on the bad boy.

From what she understood though, this bad boy wasn't like the leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding, cigarette smoking bad boys of her youth. This was someone who had fought on the opposite side of an actual war. Her Mia would never have told her about her torture and the horrors they faced if she hadn't spoken to Molly and got enough information to question her thoroughly.

Through Molly she knew the children of the other side had experienced the war just as harshly as their own, in some ways. Draco Malfoy had been persona non grata until Christmas, when Molly's letters had been gushing in their praise. He had been a bully, raised by racists. Malicious and vindictive, yes, childish and cowardly, perhaps, but intelligent too. He had snapped at the heels of her brilliant, studious daughter throughout their schooling.

That intelligence was probably his saving grace, Jean thought. The intelligence to know you were on the wrong side of history. Molly had told her all about the Death Eaters and the mark he still carried. Perhaps he didn't have the courage to do anything about it at the time, but he would have to live with that stain for the rest of his life.

That he was easy on the eyes didn't hurt - she was sure if he wanted to he could charm any girl his age. But her daughter wasn't like any other girl her age. She'd spent years pining for one of her closest friends and then made a mature assessment of their compatibility. She'd even managed to remain friends with Ron, something Jean had never seemed to manage with any of her ex-boyfriends - not that she'd wanted to anyway! He couldn't just charm this girl - although trying couldn't hurt.

Complicated to work out and pretty to boot? No wonder her little girl was smitten, she always did love a problem.

She walked up behind Hermione shuffling her feet so as not to startle her.

"Has Draco gone? I wanted to thank him for his help packing and getting us here in one piece."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother's attempt at subtlety.

"He wanted to get back to the school," Hermione smiled sadly in response. "I don't think he appreciated the reminder of how awful his family is." She gestured to the now shuttered portrait.

"Nobody likes to be judged for something they have no control over," Jean replied, giving her daughter a look that brokered no retort. Hermione sniffed back the tears that threatened and painted a bright smile on her face to return to the kitchen's frivolities.

Draco apparated to the point closest to the school, as he had earlier in the day. It seemed like an age had passed in between. The aurors had gone home for the day, the students no longer out and about and the threat minimised by the extra warding on the path. He mounted his broom and began flying to the school.

The rage boiling up inside him was painfully familiar, as was the feeling of helplessness. He couldn't help who his family were. He didn't choose Walburga or Bella or his father. They were his family, his blood - he laughed mirthlessly, and the broom slowed to a complete stop.

How ironic it was that he should be judged for his blood after his years of fervent belief in pureblood supremacy. The fates could be cruel.

The anger dissipated and he was left hovering in the dark, the cold sleeping into his bones.

He resumed his flight, listing instead all the good things in his life, focusing on the positives like his mother insisted. He was alive. The war was over. His mother was alive and despite the best efforts of others, she was well. He had friends who cared if he lived or died. Hermione Granger was one of them.

At least he hoped that was still the case.