a/n My sincere apologies for the delay in updating to anyone who has been following this story. It will be completed soon – just a few more chapters to go, most of which are written.

oOoOoOoOoOo

For once in her life, Hermione Granger found herself struggling to concentrate on the text written on parchment in front of her.

I am so tired. I could sleep for a week.

She was sitting in the drawing room of Number 12, Grimmauld Place and she felt as if this room had become the epicentre of her world these past few weeks. Since moving into Harry's home, all of her energy been focused on the upcoming Wizengamot session, and she was aware that her recent efforts were not good for her physical or mental health.

It was not that the house was uncomfortable. In fact, she found the contemporary decorated, muggle-style home a welcome change from the décor found in the majority of magical properties. Harry had told her that she had the run of the house; that nowhere was off-limits to her, save for the basement, and that was simply because that was Kreacher's private domain. She could respect that; could respect that Harry would grant his House Elf privacy and a place to call his own. It was one of the many, many reasons she loved him.

When she asked him about it, he casually replied that his elves had their own private spaces across all of his properties.

All seven of them.

She'd done her best not to react to that statement; nor to how uncomfortable Harry looked when mentioning his property portfolio. To put it simply, she was always forgetting that Harry was rich. Very rich. It was just that his manner, his attitude and his behaviour, made it very easy to overlook this.

Another reason she loved him. Let me count the ways…

She shook herself out of her thoughts and placed her quill down upon the desk in front of her and rubbed her eyes with both hands.

'That bad?' asked someone from the other side of the room. 'Maybe you should take a break.'

She turned to the voice and puffed out her cheeks before releasing a long breath. 'We don't have time for a break. The next session of the Wizengamot is in three days and I need to make sure that we're ready.'

'We're ready, Hermione,' replied Draco Malfoy. 'You know I managed to steer the amendments through the committee stage without arousing suspicion. Largely thanks to your redrafting, I might add.'

She smiled tiredly at his compliment, before leaning back in her chair and regarding her guest solemnly. He had been a frequent visitor to Grimmauld place since she had moved in, as they had worked together to draft and redraft the proposed amendments to the Property Taxation Bill. The next session of the Wizengamot was due on March 25, so they had been working almost non-stop to get the wording just right. In fact, she realised sadly, she had seen more of Draco than she had of Harry lately and she was feeling it.

I miss him.

She had asked for and received the communication mirror from Ron Weasley and had been able to talk to Harry daily through that device, but it wasn't the same. She missed his physical presence; his smile, the glint in his eyes; his scent. Of late, he had only been able to visit for a few hours at the weekend and much of that time had been taken up with work on the Bill.

Most of the time Draco had been there too and that certainly hadn't helped matters.

While her relations with the blond-haired former Death Eater were cordial, she found him almost inscrutable and in the weeks they had worked closely together, she discovered that she still could not work him out. Not his thinking, his motives, nor even his politics. It was hard to trust such a person, and even harder to work closely with someone she didn't fully trust, regardless of Harry's reassurances.

Despite spending so much time together, and despite Harry's obvious regard for him, she could not fully let her guard down. They had shared food together; cracked some weak jokes and had engaged in some very idle chit-chat. He'd told her a little about Astoria Greengrass, who he clearly felt very strongly about. But he never, ever, went beyond the mundane and trivial and she was getting rather fed up about this. She needed to trust him, for Harry's sake if nothing else.

She'd heard of the Malfoys, of course. Had heard of their support for Voldemort; their Pureblood supremacy. Their crimes.

So, as the Wizengamot session drew nearer, she reckoned she needed to force the issue a little. She regarded him closely and decided to take a more direct approach.

'Why are you doing this, Draco?'

He looked surprised for a second before recovering. 'Doing what?'

'This,' she replied, waving her arm widely to encompass the reams of parchment that lay strewn throughout the study. 'Why is the presumed head of a Pureblood House trying to help House Elves?'

Draco folded his arms and his eyes narrowed as he considered her. 'Why do you think I am doing it?'

'I have no idea. While it would be easy for me to say that it's about rehabilitating your family name, there has to be more to it than that. There will be serious repercussions from other Pureblood Houses when this breaks. While you don't have to tell me, I'd be glad if you did. I'm curious.'

Draco regarded her for a long moment before replying. 'Hasn't Harry told you?' he asked, and there was a hint of menace in his tone.

'No. And I haven't asked him either. He'd tell me it was none of my business unless you were to tell me yourself. He seems to trust you, but to be perfectly frank, I don't. At least, not fully. Maybe I'm just a bit less trusting than Harry. So, I'm asking you; why are you doing this?'

The silence stretched out for a long moment and just as she thought he was going to remain behind his mask and just as she turned away to pick up her quill, he responded.

'I was the worst sort of bigot, you know,' he whispered softly. She turned back to face him and opened her mouth to reply but he continued. 'Had you gone to Hogwarts, I would have tormented you mercilessly. I would have used the foulest of epithets against you; conspired to harm you and undermine you at every turn. Under the right circumstances I would have tortured you. Or even killed you. Your very existence would have been anathema to me.'

She was shocked at his words, at the matter-of-fact way he admitted his bigotry. 'Why? Why would you have hated me so?'

He shrugged. 'Because you are a muggleborn. A mudblood.' He emphasized the last word with an edge to his voice and when she made to reply, he raised her hand to forestall her.

'I don't believe in such nonsense now, but I did then. I really did. I was brought up in an environment where I was told that blood purity was everything and where those of lesser blood were my enemy. It's not an excuse; it really isn't. Harry's Godfather was raised by even worse bigots, and he rejected them and their beliefs. My Aunt Andi did the same – she even married a Muggleborn. So, I don't believe being raised in such an environment is an excuse. But I believe it is a reason.'

'What's the difference?'

'The difference is that when I was old enough, I rejected it all too. What you have to understand is that my family, my peers at school; the ethos of my schoolhouse; they all pointed me towards the doctrine of Pureblood supremacy and the subjugation – even elimination of Muggleborns and Muggles. I believed in that until I saw the reality of such a life; until I met him.'

She shivered, knowing exactly who "Him" was just from the venom in Draco's tone. 'Voldemort?'

Draco nodded. 'Voldemort.' He rolled up his sleeve not taking his eyes off her. 'He marked me. My father insisted and Voldemort agreed, but if I'm being honest, I wanted to be marked. I wanted to be counted among his followers. I wanted to ensure Pureblood supremacy.'

She looked at the faded Dark Mark on his arm and felt physically sick. That emblem embodied everything she stood against, and she struggled to look him in the eye. She had a sudden desire to curse the man sitting in front of her when she saw that mark on his arm.

'So, what happened? What changed your mind? Why did you change sides?' Her tone was acidic.

'Because my eyes were finally opened to the truth. The Dark Lord did not have followers, he had slaves. It wasn't about Pureblood supremacy, it was about power, His power.' Draco was silent for a long moment, as if deciding to continue. 'I saw evil, Hermione. Pure evil. And I saw people killed in front of me and I soon realized that blood status doesn't matter. Pureblood, half-blood, Muggleborn, or Muggle – it's all just blood and it all looks the same when pooled on the floor beneath a pile of corpses.'

She had no reply to that; no idea how to respond to such a statement. Harry and Draco and so many others had fought in a civil war. She'd allowed herself to forget just what they'd endured and how that affected them.

'I was a part of that,' Draco continued, oblivious to her thoughts. 'Not the deaths, but of the movement. Willingly at first, but that changed very quickly. By then I was in too deep. One did not resign from his service. One simply tried to survive.'

'And House Elves? Where do they fit into all of this?' she asked, already suspecting the answer.

'I support them because I know exactly what it feels like to be subjugated. I have been in a situation where I felt I had no choices open to me; where I had to obey. I may have walked willingly into that situation, but it wasn't long before I realized how wrong I was. I soon realized that there is always a choice. That even death is a choice if one is willing.' He paused for a moment and looked directly into her eyes. 'I want to give the subjugated a choice that does not cost them their life.'

She felt tears prick at her eyes. 'Is that why you turned?'

He nodded, his own tears starting to fall. Tears of shame. 'Yes. I reached out to Harry in our Sixth Year, and he took a lot of convincing.'

'I can believe that.'

He shook his head. 'You have no idea. Really. It wasn't long after my aunt had murdered his Godfather with my father's assistance. Harry was not in a forgiving mood. But he still agreed to help me. Eventually. Just after that, I was ordered to murder Dumbledore else the Dark Lord would kill me and my mother. Harry…Harry helped me. I'll never be able to repay him for that. We were mortal enemies and when I was at my lowest point – when I had nowhere and no one to turn to – he helped me. He's the bravest and best man I've ever known. He still is.'

A long silence followed these words until it was finally broken by Draco.

'I have done my best to become someone worthy of his forgiveness. I helped Harry throughout Sixth Year and when he was on the run in 97/98. My mother helped too. I can't talk about what we did because most of it is an official secret. Harry can't talk about it either. And I'm actually glad about that. I don't want people to know I helped. I don't want praise. I don't even want their forgiveness – not from the public anyway. Those that matter forgave me. Harry forgave me. Neville and Ron forgave me. Dobby forgave me.' he added quietly, and she found herself quickly wondering who Dobby was. But that line of thought was fleeting as she regarded the man in front of her.

'Have you forgiven you?' she asked. Draco grimaced and shook his head.

'No. I don't think I ever will. Nothing I will ever do will atone for who I was and what I did during those years, but Harry's forgiveness helps. That's why I do it. That's why I do everything in my power to make sure things change.'

'Thank you,' she finally replied after a long silence. 'Thank you for telling me. Thank you for your honesty.' She paused, unsure if she should say what was on her mind. 'Not that you did anything to me personally, Draco, but for what it's worth, I forgive you too.'

'Thank you,' he managed to choke out. He struggled to regain his composure. 'You matter, you see. You matter to Harry, so your opinion matters to me.'

Hermione nodded at his words, accepting them for what they were.

'You're welcome.'

oOoOoOoOo

For the very first time since he accepted the role as Defence Professor at Hogwarts, Harry Potter did not want to take a lesson. As he stood in front of a class of second years and watched them try to imitate his prior demonstration of the basics of the disarming charm, his heart simply wasn't in it. Even though Expelliarmus was generally recognized as his signature spell, and that he normally found such instruction fun, he just couldn't muster the enthusiasm for it today.

The simple truth was that his thoughts were on events taking place over six hundred miles away in London. It was the 25th of March; the Spring Quarter Day when the Wizengamot traditionally sat. Harry knew his history (largely thanks to Hermione); knew that such sessions had been held on March 25th since the Twelfth Century, and knew that there had never been any exceptions to this rule in over 800 years.

He also knew that in 2003, the 25th of March fell on a Tuesday and that there was no way he could attend the session, much as he wanted to. He'd given his word to Minerva when he'd taken on the role that he would not neglect his duty to the school, nor would he let personal matters impact his students.

Which was why he was standing in front of a class of second years instead of sitting in his Wizengamot seat.

He was also incredibly frustrated at the lack of time he'd been spending with Hermione lately. Since she'd moved into Grimmauld Place he'd only been able to see her for a couple of hours at the weekend owing to how busy he was at Hogwarts. While Minerva was understanding of his situation, she was also quite clear about his priorities. They were fast approaching exam time for NEWT and OWL students, and he needed to be available in the castle to offer advice to his pupils, not to mention the extra study sessions he was expected to lead. He fully understood his responsibilities and he had no intention in failing in his duty to his students.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

He did have regular communication with Hermione over the two-way mirrors they had. Having seen Ron use his at the shop, Hermione had insisted that he lend it to her until such times as another one could be created. Harry smiled at the memory. Ron had been taken aback both by her directness and her intensity but had handed over his mirror without a word. It had been a lifeline for them both.

But it's not the same.

As joyous as it was to be able to talk to her, he couldn't touch her; embrace her; kiss her; smell her.

It's not the same.

As he stepped forward and gently corrected the wand movements of a second year Hufflepuff boy, his mind was on the conversation he'd had with Hermione and Draco the previous evening. He'd been able to Floo down to Grimmauld for half an hour to go over the final preparations but had ended up feeling completely out of the loop.

When hearing of the lesson Harry had scheduled, Draco had merely shrugged and explained that Harry's presence was not required at the Ministry; had insisted that if he did attend, suspicions may be raised about a vote on the Taxation Bill that was supposed to be a formality. That he, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger had included the required wording about House Elves that would change their world and that this wording had already passed the final draft review in committee. That this particular session was not going to be the critical point of their campaign; that moment would come later.

To put it simply, his presence was neither wanted nor needed.

When he'd turned to Hermione he'd been surprised and not a little hurt to see her nod in agreement. He'd realised at that moment that something had changed between his girlfriend and his friend; something they had bonded over. While he was pleased about this in the abstract and had no concerns whatsoever about their relationship being anything other than platonic, he still felt hurt at being kept out of the loop, given how important this subject was to him. Draco knew this.

But Hermione doesn't, said a little voice in his head.

That was the crux of the matter. While Hermione accepted that House Elves were important to him, she still didn't know why. Didn't understand why he felt he had to attend, nor appreciate why he was so frustrated about not being as involved these past four weeks.

As a result, he'd departed in a bit of a mood and he knew that Hermione sensed this, for he felt her distress and her attempt to reach out to him. But – for once – he hadn't felt inclined to pacify or reassure her, something he now knew was deeply unfair to her, and something he deeply regretted.

And that led him back to his feeling of frustration and his feelings of apathy about the class he was teaching. His mind was in the Wizengamot session that was currently being held in the Ministry. His heart was with Hermione Granger, wherever she happened to be at this moment. He had nothing to offer his students at this time other than his physical presence.

And that's not good enough, he realised with a feeling of shame as – with a deep sigh - he pulled his focus back onto the kids in front of him.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione couldn't tell what was causing her the most discomfort as she sat in a discreet corner of the public gallery of the Wizengamot chamber – her nervousness over the upcoming vote, or her concern about Harry's abrupt departure from Grimmauld Place the previous evening.

She understood why he was irked at being excluded from today's session. They were trying to change society - make history – and she was sure that Harry was the type of person who hated not being in control of events. In fact, from some of the things he had said to her about his past, she knew for certain that he despised being kept in the dark and out of the loop, especially on matters he was interested in or concerned him.

But Draco was right! Harry's presence here today would arouse suspicion. We got away with it last time because we'd planned it carefully. He didn't need to be here today - now wasn't the time to fire that particular weapon.

So, while she could sense his hurt and his frustration, and understand it, she also knew that there was something else that was bothering him; something he wasn't telling her. She was well aware that Harry really cared about House Elf rights. His sincerity was obvious when he spoke on the subject and the relationship he had with his elves actually melted her heart. But she still didn't fully understand why. Her recent, open conversation with Draco had not only explained what motivated the blond Slytherin, it also highlighted the fact that she didn't fully understand what motivated her boyfriend.

Is it really any of my business?

This was the crux of the matter. She trusted Harry – she really did. But she also felt that there was a subtle, invisible, yet powerful barrier between them. His past was his business – she accepted that. Harry had spoken about how potential relationships had ended even before they started because people wanted to know what he'd done to defeat Voldemort. She did not want to become one of those people; someone who demanded he reveal all of his secrets. But she did want to be someone he felt he could confide in. The difference was subtle, but it was there. She would never demand; she just hoped he might become a willing volunteer.

She pulled herself out of her own thoughts as she saw the Clerk of the Wizengamot approach the Chief Witch, a slip of parchment held prominently for all to see. This was the culmination of hours of tedious debate that had preceded the vote on the new Taxation Bill; the Bill that contained their smoking gun.

She held her breath as she awaited the result. She was vaguely aware of her own hypocrisy as she did so; that she was here to witness events when she didn't need to be. But her presence at the rear of the public gallery was totally unremarkable and no one gave her a second look. It had been weeks since her image had appeared in the Daily Prophet and the public had moved on as a result of her absence from the media. She was just another witch. She was not Harry Potter.

The Chief Witch took the proffered parchment and studied it for a few seconds before looking up at the Wizengamot members.

'Those in favour of enacting the Property Taxation Bill. 37. Those against, 11. Abstentions, 2,' she intoned. Hermione found herself letting out a breath she did not know she was holding as the Chief Witch continued.

'The Ayes have it!'

oOoOoOoOoOo

'So, it was all something of an anti-climax in the end?' asked Harry with a smile as he passed her a glass of wine.

She accepted the proffered glass with a smile of her own. 'Yes. It was extremely boring, to be honest. I was expecting furious debate or for someone to challenge us, but it was all very dull. Draco had told me it would be; that we'd already got past the main hurdle when we steered it through the committee stage. No one is interested in House Elves.'

'No one else is, you mean,' he replied.

'Yeah, no one else is. I just can't believe it went through so easily. I thought I understood politics.'

'Well, while I'm no expert' replied Harry, 'I do know that by the time any proposed legislation gets to the final vote stage, it's been picked at with a fine-toothed comb by all parties. The final debate rarely makes a difference – most members have already decided how they will vote once the bill comes out of committee stage. There's not many examples of predicted results going the other way because someone made a great speech.'

'How do you know this?' asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. 'Draco told me. He was brought up learning this stuff.'

'Yeah, he said something similar to me a few nights ago when I was fretting. He said that the result was already decided in committee.'

Harry nodded, before placing his wine glass on the table. She thought he looked nervous all of a sudden.

'About last night…I wanted to say sorry.'

'There's no need…' she began.

'There's every need. I behaved poorly. I was in a huff because I couldn't attend the session, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry. I have no excuse. I'm something of a moody git at times and while I promise to try to do better, I'll warn you now that I can be an arse at times. I'm really sorry. You were worried and stressed and I could have made it easier, and I chose not to.'

She blinked in surprise at his candour; at him openly admitting he had deliberately left in a huff. 'Why dd you?' she asked, genuinely curious.

'Because I'm a moody git. Because you were taking Draco's side. Because I need to grow up. Because of a number of reasons that I am very ashamed of. You didn't deserve having me take out my frustrations on you. I'm truly sorry. I don't know how to make it up to you.'

'Apology accepted,' she replied. She noticed the surprised look on his face. 'I understand, Harry. I really do. This is important to you, and you felt excluded. If you want to make it up to me, just talk to me in future. Just tell me how you are feeling.'

'I'm not very good at doing that. I have a lot of secrets.'

'That's fine. You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to. Just…if you are feeling frustrated, or if you are going into a huff, just tell me what's bothering you. It will be better for both of us if you do and I'll try and do the same.' She leaned forward and placed her arms around his neck. 'We both said we were rubbish at relationships, Harry, so I think the best thing to do in future is to communicate. I'm not very good at it either, but I promise to try if you do. Agreed?'

He looked at her for a long moment and she found herself getting lost in his eyes.

'Agreed,' he finally replied, before drawing her in for a kiss. They enjoyed each other for a few minutes before Harry pulled away.

'Talking of secrets, I realised that I never told you about Kingsley's garden party in a few weeks.

She raised an eyebrow. 'Garden party?'

He looked sheepish. 'Yeah. He's hosted one every year since he took office. He says it's a good opportunity to bring everyone together. It raises a lot of money for charity too.' He suddenly looked coy. 'I was wondering if you'd be my date?'

She shook her head in exasperation and gently swatted him on the shoulder. 'Of course I'll be your date, you silly man! I'm your girlfriend! Who else would you take?'

'No one! It's just that I didn't want to presume. I don't want to upset you by taking you for granted.'

'Harry, you can never presume with me, and you can take the fact that I will always want to be your date for granted. The only way you will upset me is if you ever take someone else as your date. I don't do sharing,' she added with a smile. 'Are we clear?'

He smiled at her response and felt his heart swell with the love he felt for her. 'We're clear. It's a date.'