[A/N: Thank you to Calamity Owl for beta-reading this chapter!]

Harry had a day off before he switched to day shifts, so he tried to re-synchronize his sleep to Hermione's normal day cycle that night and wake up at a normal time the next morning. He awoke groggy and a bit disoriented for his efforts, but he was used to that when switching shift times and accepted it as one of the downsides of the job.

They'd settled into a comfortable routine on days when they awoke together: Harry would shave with his wand in front of the mirror while Hermione showered, then Harry would shower while Hermione did her short beauty routine and much longer haircare routine. That got them out of the bathroom at roughly the same time, with the added bonus of being able to ogle one another while they showered.

Harry didn't pay much attention to the copy of the Daily Prophet in the owl-mail box outside, but Hermione was nothing if not a reader and grabbed it before pulling out the loaf of bread to toast. She pulled out a few slices while scanning the paper until Harry spoke up.

"Um…Hermione?" he asked.

"Yes?" she replied, still scanning the paper.

"That bread looks mouldy."

"What euuuggh!" She glanced at the bread and immediately dropped it. "That's disgusting. I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention. So the charms on the breadbox don't prevent mould?"

"I'm afraid not," Harry said. "They only slow it." He cast a quick Vanishing Charm on the bread she'd dropped. "Why don't you throw that out and get the newer loaf?"

"I'm going to wash my hands first," she said. "That was disgusting. I hate mould." As she washed, she added, "There's a fascinating article in the paper, though."

"In the Prophet?" Harry asked. "Really?"

She nodded. "It's on the front page, just below the fold."

While Hermione dried her hands, Harry picked up the paper and scanned the lower half of the front page. There were a couple of short articles about the flight of the Hungarian Magical Royal Family after a coup and the Quidditch League's plans to set up an investigation of how in Merlin's name the Chudley Cannons had managed to score negative points in their most recent game, but what caught his attention was a short piece announcing the Ministry's plan to commemorate the contributions of muggleborn witches and wizards to the Wizarding World.

"That's…surprising for a lot of reasons," Harry said. The article proclaimed that the Minister herself had ordered a commemoration of the fifteenth anniversary of the last time a muggleborn student started at Hogwarts. The Ministry would put out a series of full-page articles detailing the contributions to Wizarding Society of muggleborns both past and present.

"You don't think they know about me, do you?" Hermione wrung the towel with which she was drying her hands even more tightly than she normally would.

"I can't imagine how," Harry said. "Even if they did, we'd have a queue of Ministry officials and reporters outside. I guess it's possible that only Madam Bones knows, but none of us would have told her. I'll ask Sue before our meeting, regardless."

"Oh, right, that's in just a bit." Hermione hurried over and gave him a quick kiss. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'm going to need it."

She nodded, but something in her eyes made him pause. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"How did you do it, Harry?" Hermione responded. "How did you have insane adventures and nearly die in school and then go back to focusing on your studies?"

"I…don't know," Harry said. "It's just what school was for us. Study, get abused by Snape, dodge things trying to kill us, and take tests."

She sighed and pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wanted to give you better reference points, but instead I'm just creating more of the same."

"It's OK," he said. "These memories are better just because you're in them."

"Harry?" Her voice was lower, almost husky.

"Yes?"

"Get out of this house before I drag you upstairs and make you very, very late to your meeting."

He paused. "I'm sure they could get along—"

"Get moving, mister." She released him from the hug and pushed him gently away. "We can discuss creating some better reference points for both of us when you get home."

"That is the best incentive for a short meeting I have ever heard." Harry gave her a quick kiss. "I'll see you soon."

A short floo trip deposited Harry in the floo room of Longbottom Manor…specifically, on the floor of the floo room. He tried to magick away the soot of the floo, but he accidentally blew it all into his hair when an ear-splitting horn went off.

He spun around to find Nev blowing a harsh, discordant note on a slim silver horn that snaked three feet over his head and had an animated dragon's mouth at the end while Sue waved a Montrose Magpies pennant (Harry's old quidditch team). "Nev!" he shouted, possibly a little louder than necessary due to temporary hearing loss, "why are you blowing a Montrose carnyx indoors?"

"Well," Sue said, "you're a boring Auror now and it's been ages since we've been able to cheer for you, so we thought we'd cheer on one of your legendary floo landings, instead."

"They're not that bad," Harry grumbled. "And you're a boring Auror, too."

She stuck her nose in the air. "I am a fascinating Auror, thank you very much."

"No argument here," Nev said.

"I'd complain about you taking her side," Harry said, "but I'd be doing the same thing if that were Hermione."

Sue nodded regally. "As you should be."

"Oh," Harry said while non-verbally removing the soot from his hair, "speaking of Hermione, did you see the announcement in the paper this morning of the Ministry initiative honouring muggleborns?"

"I did," Sue said. "I had no idea that was in the works."

"Me, neither," Harry said. "There's no way your aunt knows about Hermione, is there?"

"She really shouldn't," Sue said, "but I agree that this is suspicious. I'll make some gentle inquiries later today."

"Thank you," Harry said. The floo flared to life again before he could say anything else and he hurried to the side.

Sue allowed Tracey and and then Daphne through and each stepped gracefully out of the floo as if they'd been born doing so. Harry wasn't sure he'd agree with Tracey's assessment of their classmate as "gorgeous," but he had to admit the blonde woman's high cheekbones and trim figure gave her a formidable presence when paired with her piercing brown eyes.

"Potter," she said, nodding to him. "Bones. Longb—what in Merlin's name are you doing with an ancient Gaulish war trumpet indoors?"

"Annoying Harry," Nev said. Sue smirked and nodded in agreement.

"Oh." Daphne blinked. "Well…um…carry on, then."

Meanwhile, Tracey had imperturbably continued cleaning the soot off of herself with her wand before turning and doing likewise to Daphne. "They're Gryffindors," Daph," she said. "Best not to think about it too hard. They're not."

Daphne nodded. "Good point."

"Hey!" Sue said. "You're right about these two, but I was a 'Puff."

"Who had pretty much moved into Gryffindor Tower by our Seventh Year," Tracey said. "There's probably something in the air in there."

"I wonder if we could test for that," Daphne said. "Maybe take a piece of furniture from each common room and see if the magical residues on them are different from being around different sorts of students."

"Testing later," Tracey said. "Ball designing now."

"Right this way," Neville said. He hefted the carnyx and led them to the sitting room, blowing a soft, mournful note on it as they walked.

Sue sat down on the chesterfield and waited while he leaned the carnyx against the fireplace before sitting down next to her. "Was the musical accompaniment really necessary?" she asked.

"I never get to play that any more now that Harry is an Auror," Nev said. "I want to get my money's worth out of it."

Tracey pulled out a parchment and a self-inking quill and made a quick note. "Longbottom does not choose the music," she said as she wrote.

Sue grinned. "I'm liking her decisions already."

"You mean," Harry said, "Daphne's decisions."

"How did I get…oh, right," Daphne said. "Are you sure this is necessary, Trace?"

"Yes, now hush," Tracey said. "By the time we're done, I'm going to have all of those rich arseholes falling over themselves to court the woman who designed the social event of the entire year."

"Lovely," Daphne said drily.

"Anyway," Tracey said, "I've been giving this a lot of thought and I think we should go the Masquerade Ball route. There hasn't been one of those for a few years, probably because of that cursed mask that took over its wearer at the last ball and erased their mind."

Harry shuddered. "Robards told me about that case. I'm glad that thing was destroyed."

"Um…yeah," Daphne said.

They all stared at her for a moment.

"Moving on," Tracey said firmly, "a masquerade always attracts interest, and with three of the most eligible members of Wizarding nobility headlining it—"

Nev coughed and looked at Sue.

Tracey arched her eyebrows. "Oh, interesting! We can work that angle. Have you been out in public together yet?"

"Well, no," Nev said.

"Perfect," Tracey said. "This can be your first big event together. We've still got the most famous single wizard in the world over there to lure guests."

Harry did his best to nod enthusiastically, but Tracey's eyes still narrowed a little at him before she continued. "Now, for music. Unless Longbottom over there wants to break out the—"

"No," Daphne said, "I'm vetoing Longbottom and his horn."

"Good," Sue said. "More for me."

Nev, Harry, and Daphne all blushed bright red, but Tracey just shot Sue a grin. "Far be it from me," she said, "to get between a woman and her favourite instrument."

"Please stop," Daphne said. "If you get her going, she's going to be making nothing but innuendos all day and we'll get nothing done."

"Fine." Tracey pouted. "Anyway, I was going to suggest the Weird Sisters. Potter, may I use your name when I contact their agent?"

He sighed. "Go ahead. I hate using my fame like that, but this is worth it."

"Excellent," Tracey said. "We'll want to keep people moving, so instead of a dinner I propose canapes and drinks borne about the hall by enchanted trays. An added bonus there is that the trays can be charmed to avoid areas with higher concentrations of alcohol vapour in the air, making it slightly harder for people to overindulge."

"That's a good idea," Nev said. "I didn't know that sort of thing existed."

"Daphne taught it to me," Tracey said. "I'll need to hire some help to enchant the trays, but it'll probably be worth it."

Daphne nodded. "It's a modification of a chemical weapons detection charm the Muggle Defense Unit came up with."

Harry and Tracey's jaws dropped, but Nev and Sue just looked at each other in confusion. "Chemical weapons?" Sue asked.

"Muggle weapons that replace the air you breathe with poison," Daphne said.

"They can do that?" Nev asked.

"They can do a lot of things," Daphne said. "That's why we have a unit that focuses on developing counters to their worst weapons. We don't want to be caught flat-footed if the Statute falls."

"That's simultaneously comforting and disturbing," Harry said.

"And definitely not something we should be discussing while planning a party," Tracey added. "Let's try to focus on happier things, like what food to have."

"I'm not sure Sirius is allowed back in Buffalo yet," Harry said, "but Buffalo wings would be delicious."

"Buffalo wings?" Daphne asked.

"Seasoned chicken bits," Sue said. "And I don't think we need to go all the way to the States for this."

"No, no," Tracey said, "that's actually brilliant. After Lord Black's antics made the international press, everyone will be curious about what that food was. We can use that to attract even more people to the event."

"Just don't get them too spicy," Neville said. "An American 'mild' is more than enough."

Tracey nodded and made a note. "That's a good start. Now we just need at least six other dishes and four signature cocktails."

Harry sighed. It was going to be a long morning.

Draco Malfoy sighed. It had been a long morning. The bootlickers, hangers-on, and lesser aristocrats that comprised the social circle of Lucius Malfoy had come in force to beg his father to do something about the potential charges arising from the release of Umbridge's blackmail cache. Patronage was one thing, but some of these imbeciles seemed to think that meant Lucius could get them out of whatever damn fool predicament they'd gotten themselves into.

The click of high heels on the wood floor brought him back to the present. "Draco," Pansy asked, "is everything alright? I've just put Vulpecula down for a nap and I wanted to see how things were going."

"It's a mess in there," Draco said. "I don't know how Father deals with all of them without losing his mind. Some of them are even talking about seeking protection from the Notts instead of from Father, if you can imagine."

"Ugh." Pansy turned up her nose at the thought, not that it didn't look like it was turned up normally. All these years later and Draco still thought she had a cute nose. "Don't they understand we can't just drop everything to rescue them from their own folly? The mudbloods might be coming back!"

"Their priorities are definitely out of whack," Draco agreed. "Father has suggested they accept the 'Truth and Reconciliation' option that Bones and her Wizengamot catspaw Longbottom have proposed, but Burke, Rowle, and Travers are worried that's going to foreclose on some lucrative smuggling they've been doing."

Pansy shook her head. "Did they learn nothing from how your father navigated the situation after the fall of the Dark Lord in '81? Now is the time to pretend contrition, not wring every last knut out of a blown scheme."

"Apparently not," Draco said. "Anyway, you should probably head back upstairs. There are some truly disgusting excuses for wizards in the house right now, and while I doubt they'd be stupid enough to try anything within the Malfoy wards, I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Of course, dear." Pansy gave him a quick kiss. "Good luck with them."

"We're going to need it," Malfoy said. "I just hope those idiots don't do anything stupid. We need to find the Knife and whatever object she couldn't mention in the letter, not focus on damage control from some idiots who can't accept that they need to find a new way to earn their coin." He blinked. "Of course! That gives me an idea."

Amelia emerged with practised grace from the Longbottom Manor floo at around eight that evening. It had been yet another long day at the Ministry, but at least Longbottom's (probably borrowed) idea had given her hope that the chaos might soon end. With both of their children now staying at Longbottom Manor, she'd taken up the habit of a bit of sherry with Gus most evenings. She'd always known theoretically that Susan would eventually find someone and move out, but that knowledge hadn't prepared her for the sheer loneliness she felt when Susan had finally done so.

Her niece strode into the room just as Amelia finished Scourgify'ing herself. "Good evening, Auntie," she said. "How was work?"

"The same mess it's been since Umbridge died," Amelia said. "The usual suspects are all 'deeply concerned' about Neville's 'Truth and Reconciliation' idea, but the offer of amnesty is too tempting for most of them and they're signing up. That was such a clever idea of his!"

A shadow flitted over Sue's face before she responded. "Yes, it really was. I'm so glad I got him interested in the muggle Economist magazine last year."

"How interesting!" Amelia thought. "Susan noticed that oversight on his part, too. Good for her!"

"Anyway," Susan continued, "I wanted to tell you how much your new initiative honouring muggleborn means to Harry. We all thought it was a great idea and it means the world to him that his mother is going to be recognized for her accomplishments in fields besides…well, dying for him."

"I'm glad," Amelia said. "It's the least she deserves, really." "Now wait for it…"

"I agree," Susan said. "What inspired it now, though? I would have thought you'd have done it either at the start or end of the Hogwarts school year."

"And there it is!" Amelia thought. "There's always so much going on at that time," she said. "We wanted to ensure it didn't get lost in the rush at the beginning or end of the term."

"That makes sense," Susan said.

As they continued to discuss their respective days, Amelia had to fight to keep the smile off of her face. Children. Sometimes you had to let them think they were getting away with something. At least now she knew her niece was also in on the mystery of Harry's girlfriend. She still didn't understand why keeping the poor woman hidden was so important, but she knew Susan didn't hesitate to tell her Gryffindor friends (including Sirius and Remus) when they were being ridiculous. If Susan was assisting the secrecy like this, then the girl was likely in serious danger. But why, and from whom?

Draco nodded to John Dawlish as the older man stepped out of the floo into Malfoy Manor. "Welcome to our home," he said. "I appreciate you coming on such short notice."

"I could hardly refuse an invitation from a Malfoy," Dawlish said as he non-verbally Scourgify'd the soot from his Auror robes. "What can I do for you?"

"You…" Draco stopped himself and thought of the lessons his father had taught him. The older man had approved of this idea and allowed Draco to pursue it himself, but he was doubtless watching with interest. "I also appreciate your willingness to get right to business, but I would be a poor host if I didn't offer at least a bit of entertainment to a guest. Can I tempt you with some brandy in the study?"

"I certainly wouldn't decline," Dawlish said. He followed Draco dutifully into the study and waited while he poured them two generous snifters. His father always said it was important to get people used to accepting little gifts from you so they'd be more likely to accept the bigger ones.

After they'd toasted to strong magic and taken a moment to enjoy the quality of the brandy, Draco spoke again. "Mr. Dawlish, I've heard you're having a bit of trouble with the DMLE right now." Ever since Draco had returned home from Hogwarts and his real education had begun, his father had impressed upon him the importance of controlling the pace of an interaction.

He nodded. "It's that dossier that dead bitch dumped on our heads. She had me for some minor stuff, but I'd rather not take Bones up on this 'Truth and Reconciliation' thing she's on about."

"Doubtless," Draco mused, "because there's something much worse she didn't know of." "I understand, Mr. Dawlish, and I think we can be of some use to each other. I assume you'll have to quit the Aurors if you don't take part in that little stage show Bones is preparing?"

"Exactly." Dawlish glowered. "It's either admit everything or face the punishment for what they know I did."

"You'll doubtless be needing employment, then," Draco said. "I might be able to help with that."

"How so?" Dawlish asked.

"Officially," Draco said, "you'd be providing security for an establishment on Knockturn Alley that caters to wizards with…unusual tastes. However," Draco paused and passed a blank scrap of parchment about three inches by three inches to the man, "you'll occasionally get a request on this piece of parchment to meet with some other associates of ours at Borgin and Burkes at the time that appears on that piece of parchment. Once everyone has been assembled, you'll be given a task. With your advanced skills, these tasks should be of no consequence to you, and you'll find the pay for your official job to be much higher than the going rate for such work."

"I see." Dawlish stared at the parchment as if trying to decipher the fine print in a contract for his soul. "That arrangement sounds reasonable."

"Excellent," Draco said. "Oh, and there's just one more thing. A mere trifle, something I hesitate to bother you with, but needs must."

Dawlish arched his eyebrows and Draco made a mental note not to lay it on quite so think in the future. "The late, unlamented Undersecretary," Draco said, "appears to have stolen something belonging to one of my ancestors, and we wish to reclaim our property without it becoming common knowledge that she succeeded. If you were to monitor her house one evening and allow someone to sneak in, we could reclaim our property with no one being the wiser."

"And allow you to interfere with the scene of an unsolved murder investigation?" Dawlish asked.

"One that the Malfoys had nothing to do with," Draco said with a practised sneer. "As odious as she was, she was more useful to us alive. Dead, she's been nothing but a headache, and the positions of a number of our friends are weaker as a result of the release of her blackmail material. I don't know what possessed Lord Selwyn to kill her or why he thought he would survive doing so."

Dawlish nodded. "That's a fair point. If anything is found missing from the house, though…"

"Don't worry," Draco said. "If your colleagues had found this heirloom, they would not have left it in the house. Assuming it's still there, we can safely remove it." Had Dawlish been a Slytherin, the other man might have realised they could only safely remove something if they cleaned up his loose end afterward, but Dawlish had been a Gryffindor and merely nodded again.

"Very well," he said. "You have yourself a deal, Mr. Malfoy."