Seeking the Dragon

Draco woke up to the sound of clattering dishes, instinctively reaching for his wand. Out of fear of capture, by Aurors or worse, he had learned to sleep with it under his pillow. When the fog of sleep cleared from his eyes, he realized that he was in someone else's home. Then the memories of the day before hit him. He isedised that he was in none other than Ron Weasley's home. "What ever possessed me to stay here? Now I have to suffer his cooking too," he said to himself. "Hey! Malfoy!" a voice shouted and Draco looked toward the nightstand for the source of the voice. "Malfoy, over here." He realized it was one of the two pictures talking. "You want to go rescue the dishes from Ron? He's making a dreadful racket with all that banging around," said the portrait of Hermione. "Should I arm myself? I mean, he's been awful testy since I got back." Draco replied. "Just make some noise on your way out of the room. The last thing you want is to get blown up this early in the morning." "I'll take that into consideration." Draco chuckled. He had almost forgotten that wizard pictures could talk. "Say, Granger, you know Weas-Ron. Why was he looting my parents' mansion, err rather, what was left of it?" "He wasn't lootiHe'sHe's got plenty of his own stuff. And what do you mean 'what was left of it'? Oh no, you mean...?" The picture Hermione's eyes got really wide. "I think it best that you find out from Ron, we've been kept in the dark so to speak." "Figures. Weasley wouldn't give me a straight answer either." Hermione's voice spoke in a parental tone, "Draco Mal do do you honestly think that after the two of you were at each other's throats for seven years that he's just going to tell you everything in one go? No, I didn't think so. The fact that you've been gone for the past ten years makes no difference to him." "If you're going to lecture me, mud-err, ahem, Granger, then shut up!" Dracouteduted back, annoyed at the picture's condescending tone. It didn't matter that it was just a picture he was shouting at, because that picture may as well have been the real Hermione. Just then, Ron opened the door to Draco's room a crack and peeked in. "Bloody hell!" He shouted, before ducking quickly out of the way of a blast of green sparks. "Hey! What's all the noise for?" "Damn, Weasel, knock first!" Draco yelled. "Oh, I see you two have met." Ron said, nodding to the pictures. "Not lecturing you too much I hope." He chuckled. "Oh no, not at all Ron," the picture of Harry piped up, the little figure rolling his eyes. "As long as you don't count the times she acts likes she's everyone's mother." "I was not acting like his mother!" The other picture shot back. She folded her arms and turned her back in a huff, half her body disappearing into the picture background. "Alright, you two, argue in your own home, not mine!" Ron said. "Honestly, I don't know how you two managed to work together. Or did you bicker until whoever you caught gave up in submission?" That earned him evil glares from both pictures. "Oh gods, they're a matched set?" Draco exclaimed. "Their kids must be a bunch of bookworms that don't know how to follow the rules." Ron let out a snort of laughter. "Almost, one's a complete arse kisser that plays dumb, but she doesn't fool me." "Hey!" the pictures shouted together, and a moment later "At least she stays out of trouble!" Hermione added. "Hermione, love, she plays dumb to stay out of trouble, and to get out of doing someone else's homework. Don't let our little havoc maker fool you," Harry said. Just as Hermione was puffing up her chest to cut loose on Harry, Ron said, "What did I just say? I asked you two to fight in your own home. I want Malfoy-err-Draco's stay here to be somewhat pleasant." Turning to Draco, Ron asked, "So, Draco, what would you like for breakfast? I mean, are you hungry?" "You cooked? I thought all that noise was from an alarm clock." Draco laughed. It seemed odd to him that, in light of his parents' deaths, he should be laughing, but it did not stop him. "Yes I cooked... but I only made enough for myself, I had forgotten you were here until a certain picture found someone else to yell at. She's good at that, you know." "Psst, Malfoy," the picture of Harry whispered, "don't refuse food from a Weasley, it could be dangerous." "The food or the refusal?" Draco asked in a hushed tone. The picture of Harry covered his mouth to hide his smirk. "Trust me on this one, Malfoy. Ron has no intention of poisoning you," Hermione's picture spoke up. A red-faced Ron cut off both the pictures. Shaking a pointed finger, he said, "I'll have you know that no one has ever died from my cooking." "Okay, fine then. As long as it's not going to be lethal. How about some pork sausage and some scrambled eggs?" Draco suggested. "Right, then. I'll have it ready in a bit," said Ron. He then headed for the kitchen. "So, Granger..." "That's Potter, if you must call me by my surname, thank you." "Whatever. Anyway, what do you suppose the Muggle wannabe was looking for?" "If you mean Ron, he was looking for you; has been since you vanisheThe The picture of Harry said. "Where did you go, anyway?" asked Hermione. "Father sent me away. I suppose he wanted me to stay hidden." Draco said in a sullen voice. "Now that we know why you disappeared, why don't you tell us where you've been for the last ten years," Hermione inquired slyly. "In Lilydale," Draco answered. "Where is that? Not in England, I suppose. Ron's covered just about every square centimeter of Europe." Harry stated. "Nearly drove Hermione and I nutters in the process." "In America, if you must know. What does he want with me? I wasn't involved in the war, and all he wanted to do was pick fights in Hogwarts." "That explains your appearance. Do all wizards wear their hair like that?" Hermione said, pointing to Draco's hair as she spoke. "Wouldn't know, never saw very many of them. I lived in a village full of Squibs." "And you didn't try to take over the place? What happened? Did you lose your wand on the trip there?" Harry asked. "Fuck off, Potter!" "Sounds like you learned the language well," Harry mumbled in retort. "Knock it off, you two. You don't want the only volcano to make it to Hogwarts coming in here, do you?" Hermione shouted over the men. "Besides, Harry, don't you think you're taking a risk arguing with Malfoy? You are just a picture after all; and he can do far more to you than you to him." "I suppose you're right, Hermione," conceded Harry. "Of course, I am. Why don't you go tell the real us that Malfoy's back?" "No! Wait! Don't do that, not yet. I just want to relax a few days. And will one of you two please, tell me why is everyone being so nice to me all of the sudden?" "Later, Malfoy. Go eat. I'm sure Ron has your breakfast ready by now." Hermione said. Draco didn't bother to respond. He simply got up, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed to the bathroom. After finishing with his shower, he got toweled off then, put on a dark grape colored shirt, and a pair of dark blue jeans. He then checked himself over in the mirror, wondering if he should spike his hair or leave it flat today; he chose to leave it flat. He rummaged around the cluttered sink counter looking for some shaving cream. He found a can of shaving cream at the far back corner of the counter. When he picked up the can, he found a picture of Harry and himself during a Quiddich match. It was a Muggle style picture, no movement or talking. 'Creevey must have taken that in our second year.' Draco thought to himself. He shaved quickly then left the bathroom for the kitchen. Standing at the entry between the kitchen and the hall, Draco took in the humorous sight of Ron attempting to clean. The sink to his right was filled with dirty dishes that were haphazardly trying to wash themselves. The stove next to the sink was splattered with whatever food Ron had been cooking. On his left, there was a table with four chairs. On the table was a small lazy susan, set up with salt and pepper shakers, a pitcher of coffee creamer, a sugar bowl , and a bottle of honey. The refrigerator was tucked away in a corner near the stove. Draco smiled to himself, trying not to laugh at the sight of Ron's desperate attempt at domesticity. "You're finally out. I had to put a charm on your food so it would stay warm." Ron said in an almost too cheery voice. "How do I know you're not trying to poison me?" Draco sniped. "Oh I don't know. You were nice enough to not throw me off your broom on the way here. I did offer you a place to sleep for the night and didn't kill you. The fact that I don't have Aurors busting down my door to haul your sorry arse off, that... should give you a clue." Ron voice was almost a growl as he counted off the reasons on his fingers. "I'll take your word for it. Your cooking can't be any worse than a fast food restaurant." "A what?" asked Ron. "A fast food restaurant, you know like McDonald's or Burger King. You walk up to a counter, order from a menu that's on the wall, they take your money and give you what is supposed to be food in about five minutes." explained Draco. "It's a place where Muggles go when they don't want to cook or they're in a hurry." Ron handed Draco his plate of food. "Oh," said Ron, looking puzzled. "Well, didn't you have a house elf to cook for you?" Draco sat down at the table to eat. "Are all you Weasleys this dense? I was in hiding," Draco emphasized the last two words as if he were talking to a two year-old. "No elves, no talking pictures." Draco paused to allow the Ron to get the message. "I was in a village full of Squibs who acted like that crackpot Trelawney." "How did you know they were Squibs? Even Squibs have some magical objects around." "They dbut but I had to act Muggle. Father wouldn't let me have anything to do with magic, out of fear I would be captured." "So you mean that your father kept you hidden to save you from the war?" "Hardly; my father wanted me to hide because he wanted to make sure the family name would live on long after the war. All I wanted was to stay alive. I had the Dark Lord trying to recruit me, and Aurors ready to hang me the moment I put one toe out of line." Draco had only picked at his breakfast by this time and was desperate to finish. "So, tell me, Weasley-err-Ron, what have you been doing since you left Hogwarts?" "Gods, it's weird hearing you call me that. Anyway, I became an Auror, but I told you that much already. Then after a few years of that, the Ministry gave me a different job, mostly because of my temper. War does a number on a person. All the fighting and killing, seeing schoolmates die all around you. There were some that I thought were my friends but who eventually turned to serve Voldemort." Draco cringed at the mention of the Dark Lord by name. "Must you say that name?" "Don't worry, he's dead, now. Where was I? Oh, right, I saw friends turn against friends and people, who I once thought despised me, were fighting alongside of me. Professor Snape even saved my arse once. "Midway through the war, I was tired of fighting, disgusted by it, really. I felt better when I went back to wherever a battle had been to patch things up, and help people out. When the Ministry discovered I was making myself too visible as an Auror, they made me a social worker. It was something new they wanted to try, see. A few well connected Wizards got me hooked up with a Muggle services agency and my job was to sort out the messes left in the wake of our messy war. So now, I help out both Muggle and Wizard families.'" "So that's why you're being so kind and generous? It's part of your job?" Draco asked, almost disappointed. "I knew there was a catch. Do you bring all of your clients into your home?" "No, this isn't part of my job, and no, I would never even think to bring any of my clients here. How do you think a Muggle would react to a talking picture?" "Probably think it's a miniature television," Draco cracked. "Not likely, especially with Hermione's picture in the guest room. You already found out how motherly she can be. At least Harry has the good sense to keep quiet and still." "I guess you have a point there. So what do you want from me, Weasley? Can't be money. You already seem to be better off than you were at Hogwarts." "No, Draco, I don't want your money. For the past few years, I have been in the business of taking care of people." Ron squirmed in his seat, preparing himself for what he was about to say next. He continued, "I remember how I felt when I thought I was going to lose my father. And I hear, almost every day I go to work, how my younger clients feel about losing their parents or friends. I want a truce between us, Draco, maybe even a friendship if it's possible. I'm sick of seeing what fighting does. There aren't too many from our class left alive, that aren't in Azkaban, I mean." Ron suddenly looked very weary after pouring his heart out. "Tell the truth. You were glad to see me gone. You didn't care where I went, so long as you didn't have to see me." Draco tried futilely to provoke an argument. Ron looked over the table at Draco, sadness in his eyes, and admitted, "Yeah, I was glad to see you gone, at first, that is. No, I really didn't care in the beginning where you were. But think about it this way. For seven long years, you and I had argued and fought; sometimes you picked the fight, sometimes I did, but it was a habit that graduating had forced me to break. About a year after you disappeared, I went looking for you, to argue mainly. Harry and Hermione, helped me out sometimes, but they had no clue why I wanted to find you. They thought it was an awful lot of effort to put into looking for a fight, especially when there was plenty of fighting going on right under my nose at the time." Ron breathed a soft sigh, trying to stop himself from getting too emotional and revealing too much. Draco could hardly believe that he was sitting across from Ron Weasley, in his home, listening to him spilling his guts. "You're a sap, Weas-Ron," he said with a sly grin. "What have I got to lose? My parents are gone. I can only assume that most of my friends are in Azkaban, or worse." Ron nodded and shrugged. "I've lived like a Muggle for the past ten years and you're the first Wizard I've seen in just as many. Don't expect me to be all buddy-buddy, but I suppose we can call a truce." Draco extended his hand in a show of good faith. Ron shook hands with Draco, "Fair enough," he said. Ron walked over to the where his coffeepot was and poured a mug full for himself. Raising an empty mug toward Draco, he offered, "Coffee?" "Just black, please, no potions, sugar, or anything." Ron just rolled his eyes and handed him a mug of coffee. Draco accepted the warm liquid appreciatively, "Thanks," he said. Ron and Draco sat silent, savoring their drinks. "Draco," Ron began, "you've changed too, what happened to you over there? I mean, when we were in school, and I didn't rise to a fight, you just kept trying until one got started. Lose your knack for bitterness?" "Like you said, having a weekly battle of words for seven years made it a habit. I was living as a Muggle, which meant finding a job. Being dumped off in Lilydale made it easy. I managed to learn a bit of Cartomancy while there and became quite adept at what some may call telling fortunes. We call it Divination. I should explain that Lilydale is this small tourist town where the residents offer readings. You see, many of the Squibs there weren't completely without magic, just that their magic was not enough to call them Wizards. Some were excellent Legilimens, some excelled at Cartomancy, and some could read runes like they were reading from a book. But what made them Squib was the fact that they only possessed a single gift. Some had two or three, if they were lucky. Any other magic that they were able to use, came about by accident. "I had to make nice, because I didn't have my family name to fall back on. In America, err Lilydale rather, they didn't care about status or family name. To them, I may as well have been a Brown, a Cooper, or even a Potter, for that matter. Here in England, I was top notch, just by birthright. Going to America stole all of that away from me; I had to earn my place. I couldn't fly around on a broomstick - They called it a parlor trick. I couldn't wave my wand around changing rats into water goblets. They said that even David Copperfield could do that..." "Who's David Copperfield?" Ron interrupted "A rather famous magician. You know, someone who pretends to use magic but his work is all slight of hand." Draco said, waving his hand in mockery of the term. "Go on." Ron coaxed. "Right, then. Think about it for a moment. Suppose that what you and I can do was referred to as trickery or illusion. You can't do anything really fantastic because you would be discovered." "I see what you mean." Ron replied, listening intently as Draco continued. "The Legilimens knew I was a Wizard. When they offered a free reading as they called it, they told me things about my past, dragging out our quarrels with each other. They said that was because I had put so much energy into those memories. It was like going to a counselor only without saying a word they knew my every thought. They taught me a great deal about how to get by as a Muggle. Squib, in this case. They also taught me how to silence my thoughts from others. According to them, my thoughts were a blaring loudspeaker." "Did they teach you anything other than how to read cards?" "They taught me some Legilimency. However, I have only been able to use it as a sort of lie detector, I'm not all that good at it." "Wicked!" Ron exclaimed, "We could use someone like you as an Auror." "Don't even think about it, Ron." Draco countered, "I've had enough sneaking around for one lifetime." "Oh. Sorry." Ron looked down at the table with a slight pout. "Don't be. Don't pout either." "I'm not pouting," said Ron indignantly. "Sure, sure, and I suppose your bottom lip just fattened all by itself." Ron quietly sipped his coffee, deep in thought. Not knowing if what Draco had said about his Legilimens ability was really true. For all he knew, it could be just a grand tale that Draco was telling. Something to make himself feel more important. He was mulling over his decision to find Draco, and whether or not to tell him the real reason for his search. Ron was still unsure if even he himself was ready for the results. All of the emotions he worked so hard to stifle had come flooding back with a vengeance. His fears of never seeing Draco again didn't seem quite so scary, now that he had to face the newer prospect of friendship. While it was his sole reason for seeking out Draco, the tense camaraderie left him terrified. Draco had been watching Ron's face. He could tell that Ron was thinking hard about something. The redhead's emotions were played out on his face. Draco, being suspicious of Ron's motives, secretively probed his mind. All he could discover was a feeling of 'not ready yet', repeating over and over. Draco finally broke the silence, "What are you scheming about?" "Nothing really. I'm just wondering how the Potters are going to react to your return." Draco left it at that. He knew Ron was only telling half the truth, but he could hear the apprehension in Ron's voice. It was very much unlike the Draco that he was a decade ago. The boy that he used to be would have nearly tortured Ron into talking. But now, he felt it was better to wait for some things, forcing someone to spill their guts didn't have the same pleasurable effect as it had when he was younger. Lucius may have provided for Draco's basic needs, but he had to work for what he wanted. That, in itself, caused him to gain a sense of appreciation for anything that he earned. "Draco, is there anything you need to do today?" "I would like to make the arrangements for my parents burial. And I'd like to see how much the Ministry saw fit to leave for me." Draco said, apprehensively. He felt he needed to finalize the whole mess he came home to find. But, he didn't want to truly face the fact that his parents were now dead. Dealing with the Ministry also meant that he had to come to terms with the reality of why his parents had died. His only compensation for their death, was not needing to ever visit them in Azkaban. "The Ministry took care of their burial. They didn't know if you were coming back, so they left your inheritance in a vault at Gringott's. Your family's land is yours. Your parents are buried there. They didn't hold any ceremony or wake; they left that as your choice." Draco let out a long sigh, "Oh." He anger at the whole situation exploded. "They left me with ashes, bones and money! Fucking A, Weasley!" Draco shouted, jumping to his feet. His fists were clenched and shaking as he spouted, "Do you think they could have at least left something a Reparo spell could fix? It's not like I wanted to be away." He crossed his arms, continuing his tirade, "Sounds like you were pretty deeply involved in this whole mess. Why couldn't you have saved my house? Why did they have to die, Ron? This whole helping people business of yours is a farce. You couldn't even keep those bastards from killing my parents!" This outburst scared Ron back to his old self. "Listen here, ferret boy. Don't you dare act like this is all my fault. If it weren't for me, you would've been left with just your precious inheritance, if that much. Those greedy bastards in the Ministry wanted to take away all of it and line their own pockets. They were going to put your parents remains in some hole outside of Azkaban prison. Harry, Hermione and I all stood up for you. We had to remind the Ministry exactly how much your family put into Hogwarts. We demanded that the Ministry show some respect to you, an innocent, in spite of what your parents had done while serving Voldemort." Ron brought his hand down hard on the table. He rose quickly, matching Draco's posture, knocking over his chair in the process. "In caou hou haven't figured it out, I was only involved with what they were going to do after they sacked the place. I had no idea your parents would be killed. If I had my way, they would be suffering in Azkaban. I don't think anyone should have to deal with losing their parents, not even you, Malfoy." "Why the hell were you three standing up for me? Can't I fight my own battles now? As far as I know, you just want to kill me off and take everything for yourself. But you wouldn't do that, would you, Gryffindor? Your conscience wouldn't let you do anything underhanded like that." Draco leaned over the table, bringing himself nose to nose with Ron. Wands were drawn again by unconscious reflex; things on the walls were shaking as Ron's magic began to flex its own muscle. He was losing control of himself and had to calm down, but he had to get the last word in. "Oh, shut your hole for a moment, Malfoy!" Ron sucked in a few breaths, trying but failing, to calm himself. "I should've known that you wouldn't be grateful that someone tried to save what little was left for you. I guess you haven't changed after all, you spoiled prat. "If you even think for one fucking minute that I have spent the last ten years looking for you just because I wanted to fight, you're dead wrong. You don't have a family to fall back on anymore. If you think your Slytherin buddies are going to stick up for you, think again! You can thank your father for destroying the Malfoy name. For most Wizards, your oh-so-great family name ranks right up there with dog shit. Right now, you've got just the Potters and the Weasleys to fall back on, so you had better think long and hard about whom you're turning away." Ron ended the argument by stomping off to his study, casting a locking charm on the door as he closed it. With another wave of his wand, he cast a silencing charm on the room. The last thing he wanted was for Draco to hear him break down. 'I can't believe this,' Draco thought to himself, 'No sooner than we call a truce, we're back to fighting again.' He couldn't understand why Ron brought out the worst in him. He walked back to the guest room to talk to the pictures. At least they made sense. Both Harry and Hermione were gone from their frames, when he returned, however. So he decided to just relax in silence. But he couldn't relax. All he could think about was how much ground he had gained with Ron and how fast he had lost it with just a few bitter remarks. He was distraught over his parents' deaths, he could chalk it up to that or maybe he could say that he blew up from the stress of coming home to a house in ruins. Why was he trying to make excuses for hurting Ron's feelings? Why did it hurt him so much to have just exploded the way he did - that was what he would have done ten years ago, so why did it hurt so much now? Truth was, not only was Draco feeling the hurt of his own feelings, but Ron's hurt feelings were running over him like a freight train, too. Damn his Legilimens training! The residents of Lilydale that had taken him in, had taught him more than just Cartomancy and Legilimency. They taught him a few lessons in life, one of which was becoming painfully clear - the law of threes. Whatever energy he put forth would come back on him three times as strong. With the way he was feeling, it felt like he was paying for all of what he had done to Ron since they first met. He tried to choke back the crying feeling that was overtaking him. His stay in Lilydale had melted the ice in his veins. His emotions were no longer subdued as they once were ten years ago. Giving up on waiting for the Potters to return to their pictures, he laid back on the bed and broke down. Ron sat at his desk in the study, staring at another picture of Draco. Tears were streaming down his face. It was another Muggle picture, but that never stopped him from talking to it. "Why are you being such an idiot?" he asked the picture. "I thought I was doing something good when I fought to keep your parents' remains on your land. I should have kept out of it, but what would you have to come back to? Nothing. No family, no friends, no home. Why did you have to come back? The possibility of never seeing you again was much better than this." Ron continued pouring his heart out to the silent picture until he had cried himself to sleep. About an hour later, Ron woke up, feeling a little better after his nap. "Have a good rest?" Asked the picture of himself on his desk. The picture was of Harry, Hermione, and himself, although the Potters weren't in the frame. "Where are the other two?" Ron asked "At their house, I suppose," the picture replied. "You think you can jump over to one of the pictures in the guest room and see if Draco is in there?" "Draco? Do I have to? When did he get ? Is? Is that what all the shouting was for? Can I yell at him too?" the picture asked, a little too eagerly. "No, you cannot yell at him, too. I just want to know if his stuff is still in there. He got back last night, if you must know." "Did you throw him out?" "No." "I don't want to go in there, especially if he's in there," the picture protested. "Why not ask the other two?" "Because I don't want them to know he's back yet. Now will you please just go check to see if his stuff is still there?" Ron propped himself up on his elbows on the desk. "I suppose." The picture replied and stomped out of the frame. A few moments later, the image of Ron came back into the frame. "What did you do to him? He looks like hell." Ron made to get up out of his chair. "Wait!" the picture squeaked. "He's sleeping. You don't want to be hexed, do you?" "You said that he looked like hell. I was going to go apologize." Ron replied. "He does, but he's sleeping. I'm not deaf you know, I heard what you said to him. That was a cruel thing to say, even if it was to Malfoy. He's liable to hex you or worse if you wake him, especially if he's anything like you when waking up." "What's that supposed to mean?" "I'm just glad I'm in here rather than in your room, is what I mean. At least I'm safe from stray bolts flying toward the alarm clock," the picture said. "I am not that grouchy in the morning." Picture Ron crossed his arms and said, "Have you looked at whom you're talking to?" "Well, I guess maybe I should let the Potters know Draco is back. After what I said to him. He's probably going to take off soon anyway." "Wouldn't you?" asked the image of Harry, as he came back into the frame. "How long have you been listening?" the real Ron asked. "Long enough to know that your mouth got you in hot water once again. So, tell me, how much of your foot did you manage to squeeze in this time?" picture Harry asked. "Up to the kneecap, I suppose. You know, you and 'Mione have been together far too long. You even sound like each other now." "And you wonder why we weren't exactly thrilled about you hunting for Malfoy? Hermione is still sore over being called a Mudblood. I don't think it would be wise if you started picking up his more err, endearing qualities." Harry said sternly. He crossed his arms, but gave a knowing smirk. In the guest room, Draco had just begun to wake up, still weary from his crying jag. Hermione had come back into her frame; Harry was still gone from his. Looking at the picture through puffy eyes he stammered out, "Hey Mud-err-Grang, oh hell, Hermione." The picture's eyes got wide as she jerked her head in Draco's direction. "What did you call me?" she asked in shock to hear her given name come from his lips. "Hermione. That is your name, right?" "Why, uh, yes it is," the picture spluttered. "I just never thought I would see the day when it came from your lips, Malfoy," she said, regaining her composure. "Well, guess what? Today's the day, Mud-err-Hermione. Anyway, what's with the red haired time bomb? First he's nice, and then he's going off like a lit stick of dynamite. What gives?" Picture Hermione shrugged. "Sounds like he's his usual self to me." "Being nasty and throwing his poor excuse for insults my way, that I can deal with. It's the being nice part that's got me worried." "Don't you trust him, Dra...Malfoy?" She surprised herself by nearly calling him by his first name. "Draco is fine, I'm getting used to it," Draco reassured the picture. "He mentioned the three of you fighting the Ministry over the Malfoy land. What's that all about? Some selfless Gryffindor act of kindness? Had to get your good deeds in early this year?" "Flattery gets you nowhere with me, Malfoy. It was Ron's idea, even though he dragged us through it. After Voldemort was killed, the Ministry was divvying up the properties of his followers. The ones that were caught, and the ones that hadn't been caught. It was disgusting, really; seeing all these self-righteous Wizards doing just what Voldemort himself would have done had he won." "Bloody hell!" Draco exclaimed. "My thoughts exactly, anyway..." Hermione stopped herself cold. 'Did I just agree with Malfoy of all people?' She pondered this a moment to get her bearings again, trying to pick up where she left off. "Anyway, Ron was a social worker by then, a damn good one too. He got into the habit of going out of his way to help people, which is how he got his nose stuck into the mess with all the estate seizures." "He went completely mad when he heard that the Malfoy estate was to be seized and sold off to the highest-" "Or most crooked," Draco added. The picture of Hermione nodded in agreement. "The highest bidder. You see, Malfoy - Draco." Her words stumbled over his name. "Ron knew, Merlin knows how, that you were innocent. He just couldn't bear to see you suffer for your father's deeds. He got us involved because we're his friends, he knew full well that we'd stand behind whatever crazy idea he had." "Has that fool ever heard of guilt by association? They could've sent him off to Azkaban just on principle." Draco surprised himself with the level of concern in his voice. His surprise was punctuated even more by the look on the picture's face. The Hermione in the picture frame had her eyebrows raised practically into her hairline. "Obviously not, or he didn't care." Getting a serious look on her face again, "After Ron explained what was happening, we had to get involved. Family land, no matter what the family's members have done, couldn't just go to the highest bidder. As much as Harry and I despised your family, we just couldn't allow the Ministry to take the estate from you and leave you with nothing. Draco, you were away, you were oblis tos to what was going on here, and Ron made sure everyone knew that you had no knowledge of anything." "So I was his pet project? Sheesh, Granger-err, Potter, you sure know how to make a guy feel important," Draco half snarled, half teased. "Believe it or not, you were and are more than that to Ron, Merlin knows why. All through school, you made our lives a living hell and Ron still chose to stick up for you." "Maybe he felt that he owed Professor Snape something for saving his stupid arse." "Do you know why Snape had to save him?" the picture asked with arms crossed and foot tapping. "Because he was pig-headed and rushed a house full of Death Eaters?" "No, Malfoy, but if he hasn't told you what he was saved from, I'm not going to." "Now listen here, Grang-Pot, oh fuck it, Hermione. You can't just dump something like that in my lap and expect me to let it rest. What happened that was so terrible it drove Professor Snape to rescue a student that represented all things Gryffindor, a Weasley for crying out loud?" "Oh, Malf-Draco, we're not in school anymore, will you just let the Gryffindor-Slytherin rubbish drop already?" It was a command rather than a request. "He didn't. I tried our whole seventh year, but he always came looking for a fight. I merely obliged. I had to keep up my image. A Malfoy would never simply ignore an insult." "Oh, please. Admit it, Draco. You would have done the same if he didn't come looking for you. I'd be willing to wager that you started a few yourself when things were too quiet." Draco became indignant. "I don't know what you're going on about. If you think I missed our little verbal sparring matches you're sadly..." Draco's voice caught for a moment, then he spoke in a hushed tone, "...correct." Draco's expression turned to a sullen one. "If you ever tell anyone Potter, I'll... I'll... Oh why bother, who do I need to impress anymore?" "Did they brainwash you over there? Okay, Harry you can stop with the Polyjuice potion now, I think you've taken your little prank a bit too far," Hermione chided. "Polyjuice? You think I'm Potter? Have you gone mad? Rather difficult for Potter to get his hands on a bit of my hair considering I've been gone for the last ten years, even you know that much." "Sorry. I lost my head there for a moment. It's not everyday that you hear a Malfoy's voice sound defeated." "I did not sound defeated, I merely stated fact." Draco knew he was fighting a losing battle of wits with Hermione; her picture was just as clever as the real Hermione. "Why don't you go talk to Ron. I'm sure he's calmed down by now." "If you think that I'm going to lower myself to apologize, you must have me mistaken for someone who cares what Ron thinks." "I knew it! You did start this one." "So what! That is what's expected of me. I am quite adept at doing what's expected." "But this time you felt remorse for hurting him. Didn't you? You were sobbing in your sleep, Draco." she said in her famous, know-it-all tone. She then pleaded, "You have a heart, use it." "I am. It's pumping my blood through my body. And, I did not sob in my sleep. Why would you care, anyway?" he shot back in retort. "News flash! Ron is my friend and he's my husband's best friend. I will support him in whatever decision he makes, even if that means having to get along with you." She made a foul face at the thought. "That also includes getting over what you called me before he ended up spitting slugs." "So what you're saying is, if Ron wants to be my friend, I get you two as part of the package?" he asked, then his eyes narrowed. "What's your game Grang-err-Potter? If I do make nice with you three, what's in it for me?" "Nice to see that some things haven't changed." "What's that supposed to mean?" Draco said indignantly. "Oh, nothing, forget it. The only thing in it for you is three wizards you can call friends. Although one can be testy at times, he's loyal in the end, and another has a bit of a hero complex." "I can also guess that I get the walking talking version of the Wizarding world's answer to the Encyclopedia Britannica, right?" "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips. "It means, the only difference between you and Professor Binns is that you didn't live through the history you know." "I keep telling you Malfoy, flattery will get you nowhere," Hermione hissed through gritted teeth. "Leave it to the Muggle-born to take an insult as flattery." "That's a fairly dull retort, don't you think? You must be able to come up with something better than that. The Draco Malfoy I remember, could do far better at wounding someone with words than that." "Mount Vesuvius is in the other room. Most likely plotting my death because of that skill. It's far safer for me to not draw the ire of his two best friends." "See? I knew you had some common sense somewhere in that head of yours. Maybe you should go patch things up before he does something he regrets." "What do you mean?" Hermione rolled her eyes at the question. "Oh come on, you saw how he was during fourth year, everyone did." "How's he going to regret getting rid of me?" "You just have to trust me on this one, Malfoy" Her lips twisted into a smirk. "Why is everyone saying I have to trust them on this and that? In your eyes I don't have a very good track record, why should I think any different of you?" "Good point. But the three of us have seen ten years of friends turned enemies and vice-versa. Seeing how Percy turned out, you have to be really careful who your friends are." "Wait a minute. Percy Weasley? What's he got to do with this?" "Percy became a Death Eater. A case of misplaced loyalty, I'm afraid. His problem was that he was loyal only to power. I swear he was trying to become the next Dark Lord. Percy, that slimy git, would have killed his own brother if it meant that he could rise up in the ranks." "You mean?" Draco asked "Put it together, Malf-Draco. Think about what Ron has told you and what I have just said. I may have told you too much, but if it means that Ron can finally be happy, so be it," the picture said. "I still don't get it. Why me? Of all people?" "I can't say, I'm afraid. Ron will have to explain that one to you." The picture of Hermione paused a moment. "Please go talk to him. I'm not saying you have to say you're sorry about what you said. You probably meant it. Just get the miserable git in a better mood."