Harry made sure Ginny was reading near a crackling fire. He made sure Lily was asleep. He made sure the door to his study was locked. Only then did he feel comfortable opening his bottom desk drawer. Inside was a rectangular package, wrapped in grey muslin. He lifted it out, closing the drawer with his foot, and placed it on his desk. Unfolding the muslin revealed a thick, rectangular mirror. He extended the stand in the back and propped it on his desk.

When he was satisfied it wouldn't fall over, he reached a finger out towards it. Then he paused, noticing his reflection. He finger-combed his hair for a moment.

He reached out again and touched the mirror's center. It grew cold and frost formed over the surface. It stung, but he resisted the urge to pull his finger away. Finally, the frost melted, leaving behind a new reflection: a pale, pinched face and blonde hair. He and this new reflection pulled their fingers away simultaneously.

"Good evening, Harry," said the reflection.

"Good evening to you… Draco," he said.

Harry fought the scowl forming on his face. He knew Draco had reformed after Dumbledore's death. He knew their children were friends. They'd even reconciled. Still, talking to the man who stomped him in the face until his nose broke brought up an unreasonable anger.

Malfoy sat in a cavernous room lit by a candelabra hanging from the ceiling. Behind him, heavy, green curtains covered a window. He sat in a thick, leather chair next to an elegantly carved end table, a single glass of red wine perched in his hand. As he swirled the glass, Harry wondered if Draco deliberately tried to look villainous or if he couldn't help it.

"I wish you'd just use the floo network like every other wizard," Draco said.

"It's against the rules. No one in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is allowed to connect their fireplace."

Draco snorted. "Let me guess; you made those rules."

"I approved them," he said and shrugged. "Too many aurors getting attacked in their own homes. Besides, it's safer for informants. You have to appreciate that."

Draco shrugged. "How are you feeling?"

He touched his new scar involuntarily. "I'm fine."

"And your memory?"

Draco turned away to sip his wine. It was a casual gesture, as if the question didn't matter to him at all, but he continued to watch Harry sideways. Harry debated how much to tell him.

"Mostly back," he said. "I still don't have any memory of the attack. Sometimes things I've forgotten jump back into my head. Doesn't happen often anymore."

Harry decided not to mention the voice. A woman's young, dreamy voice said things, things that didn't make any sense. "Do you feel that?" "I know a clarity spell."

"Did you talk to your friends?" Harry said.

Draco put the glass down. "Not my friends. My father's pure-blood contacts. The ones not locked up, anyway."

Harry leaned forward. "Anything good?"

Draco held up a folded piece of parchment like a prize. "Not much. The old houses aren't what they used to be. Fallen into disrepute in the wake of the Dark Lord's demise. Most I talked to scoffed at the idea of a two-layer curse. Still, a few rumors of witches and wizards capable of crafting new spells."

"Great," he said. "Thanks. Can you owl it to me today?"

"No need," Draco said with a smirk. "Winky!"

At his words, there was a loud crack and a familiar-looking house elf appeared at his side. Tomato-sized nose. Brown eyes. Bat-eared. He'd remember her anywhere.

"Winky!" Harry said.

She bowed towards him through the mirror. "Hello, Harry Potter, sir."

When he'd last seen her, she was a mess, crying over the death of her ex-master Barty Crouch and his son, the Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr. That year, she'd drunk herself into a near-constant stupor. The other house elves at Hogwarts had been mortified by her behavior. They must have forced her out.

Whatever happened, she looked far better. She stood tall, her eyes were clear, and she wore a brightly-patterned sheet.

"Showed up at our doorstep," Malfoy said. "They do that from time to time."

"Winky is honored to serve such a great house," she said.

"You look well," Harry said.

"Thank you, sir," she said, and reached into her sheet. She took out a small, purple coin and held it up. "Winky has been sober for four months!"

Harry was floored. Did AA have support groups for house elves? Did she show up to a meeting in disguise? He imagined her walking into a church basement wearing stilts and a long trench coat.

"Congratulations, Winky," he said. "That must have been very hard."

Winky put the coin away, beaming. "At six months, Master says he'll let me polish the closet of boots in the cellar!"

Harry suppressed a laugh.

Malfoy looked mortified. "Winky, servants of great houses don't discuss personal matters openly. It spurs gossip that reflects badly on their masters."

Harry's stomach clenched. He'd met Dobby while he'd been with the Malfoys; with every mistake he'd been compelled to injure himself. Harry opened his mouth, prepared to protest, but Winky merely bowed her head.

"Winky is sorry, Master."

"You are forgiven," Malfoy said, and held out the parchment. "Now, take this to him."

Winky smiled and took the parchment. She bowed again and, with a crack, disappeared. Half a second later, there was another crack next to Harry. Winky stood next to him, bowing and holding out the piece of parchment with an exaggerated flourish.

He took it from her awkwardly and unfolded it. It was a list of fifteen names with descriptions of where they lived and their experience with spellwork.

He turned to thank Winky but found her giant eyes inches from his face. He jumped a little.

"Harry Potter was cursed," she whispered. "Three times."

"I've been cursed a lot more than that," he said, cringing away from her. "Occupational hazard."

"Yes," she said, still staring. "Dangerous to be a blood traitor."

"Winky!" Malfoy shouted from the mirror.

Winky went pale. She jumped back and, not knowing what to do, bowed.

"Winky is very sorry, Harry Potter," she said.

He was going to say he forgave her. In spite of the anger he felt at her words, he didn't want to be responsible for her hurting herself. However, before he could say anything, Malfoy shouted again.

"Get back here!"

Tears formed in her giant eyes. Her hands fidgeted like a child caught being bad.

"Right now!" Malfoy said, face red with rage.

Crack! Winky was gone. Crack! She was on the other side of the mirror.

"How dare you insult him, my best—"

"It was a mistake, Master! Winky is very sorry!"

She cowered before the furious Malfoy. There was no pity in his gaze.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Malfoy said, reaching into his robes.

Since his cursing, Harry's memories tended to come back in painful jolts. This time, he was transported back to the Quidditch World Cup when he was a child. There had been fire, smoke, green death signs in the sky. Winky was berated by her master, Barty Crouch. She'd failed him, and he'd said "This means clothes."

It had destroyed her. In the end, it had destroyed so many people.

Harry jolted back into the present. On the other side of the mirror, Winky was on the floor, almost dissolving into a puddle of tears. Malfoy still had his hand in his robes, and Harry went cold. He would pull out a sock, a handkerchief, some article of clothing that would destroy Winky yet again.

This time, it might kill her. He jumped to his feet, about to shout. But it was too late. Draco pulled something out and held it in front of Winky.

It was a single, gold coin.

Winky stared at it like it was going to kill her. She screamed and rolled on the floor as if in her death throes.

"I am paying you for your services this month," Malfoy said. "Take it."

Winky held her hands up and looked away from it like a vampire confronted by daylight.

"Not a whole galleon! Please. A knut. Winky will take a knut. A sickle. Not a galleon."

"Take it," Malfoy commanded. "Take it and go spend it."

Winky took a deep breath, wiped her nose, and stood. Finally, she took the coin with trembling fingers and put it somewhere beneath the sheet she wore. She turned to go, but Malfoy stopped her.

"And Winky? You must spend it on yourself. No gifts for me or my son. No cleaning supplies. No charities."

This set off a new round of wailing and screaming that continued long after Winky disappeared from the mirror's view. Harry had the feeling it would continue for hours.

"Sorry you had to see that," Draco said, watching her go.

"I thought you were going to give her clothes," Harry said sheepishly.

"I'd never do that. I'd never hurt her. But she occasionally needs consequences."

Draco turned back to look at him through the mirror, and he did something Harry never thought was possible. He got even paler. He stared past Harry's shoulder and gulped.

Harry followed his gaze and jumped. Ginny stood behind him. He should have known the lock wouldn't stop her. She was an expert with alohamora. She wore the same scowl her mother had when she was about to lose her temper.

"Hello Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth. "Still working with Harry even though I told you he needed time to recover?"

Draco swallowed. "We were just talking about Albus and Scorpius. Weren't we, Harry?"

"Yes. The gap year," Harry said, quickly. "Draco doesn't understand."

He looked back at Malfoy, who nodded with too much enthusiasm. Ginny sighed and Harry felt his stomach unknot.

"It's a muggle thing. I don't understand it either, but we have to accept it. If they want to backpack around Australia for a year, we let them." She looked pointedly at Malfoy. "And we promised not to snoop in on them."

Malfoy looked affronted. "I would never!"

"Never? I suppose you're just sitting in your manor in England, waiting."

"Waiting and worrying," he said, looking intently at the wine glass next to him.

"Hm," she said. "It's nearly midnight here. Mind throwing open your curtains?"

Harry leaned forward, squinting at the mirror. Behind Malfoy, heavy curtains blocked the only window. Thin streams of daylight crept around the edges.

Malfoy had an insincere look of innocence on his face. He started to say something, but Ginny cut him off.

"Scorpius is of age, Draco," she said. "It's time to let him leave the nest. If we don't—"

She coughed and couldn't finish her sentence. It was one of those coughing spasms she'd been having more and more often. Her face went pink, and she coughed into her handkerchief for a minute before regaining herself.

"Ginny," Malfoy said, "are you quite alright? You look a little… Pale."

"Of course I'm pale," she snapped. "I'm a Weasely. If I spend more than a minute in the sun I get freckles the size of dinner plates. Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Potters," he said, taking the hint.

He leaned forward and touched his finger on the center of the mirror. Harry did the same. As their fingers met, the mirror grew suddenly hot. Draco disappeared, replaced with Harry's own face. Harry shook his finger to cool it.

"We're going to bed now, Harry," Ginny said in a voice that allowed no argument.

He nodded. As he wrapped the mirror in the muslin again, he remembered something Draco said… Or was going to say. He remembered him shouting at Winky something about his "best."

His best what? Not his best mate, surely.

"Ginny," he said, "does Malfoy think he's my friend?"

Ginny, standing in the doorway, turned and gave him a pitying stare.

"Harry, dear. In his last year at Hogwarts, all his friends abandoned him. Even Crabbe and Goyle. Then Voldemort fell, and his family's reputation with it. Then his wife died, and everyone thought he had something to do with it.

"You're not his friend. You're his only friend."

Harry put the mirror away, gravely.