Chapter 14

Auspicious Friendships

Tuesday after Auror training had let out, Harry had gone to Draco's, intending to pick up the tickets for the Puddlemere game on Friday. Draco had met him at the gate in his Quidditch pads and holding his broom, apparently having missed his note, asking if he could stop by. Seeing the familiar gear had stirred up many fond memories for Harry, and he had been longing to fly. Especially since Ron, who had been seeing Heidi Tipton in Magical Games and Sports, kept extolling his daring catches and agile maneuvering during his flights with Heidi's brother, Brandon, one of the Chasers for the Cannons. Somehow, Draco had persuaded Harry to borrow a broom, pad up and toss a Quaffle with very little encouragement. They had flown for hours, dodging a leather training Bludger and racing about the pitch until the lights had turned on. Only, by the time he'd arrived home, Harry had realized that he and Draco had forgotten all about the tickets.

So, Harry had stopped by the next day after Concealment and Disguise and had ended up back on the pitch again for a short game of 'Chasing the Snitch.' It had been loads of fun, and Harry had won best two out of three. Time had escaped him, and it had been really dark by the time Harry had come home, sweaty, windblown, and grinning. He'd entered the house expecting Ginny to be really peeved at him. However, it had been Hermione who'd given him the cold shoulder and disappeared to her room, slamming her door.

Hermione paced her room furious at Harry. She knew exactly what game Draco was playing, even if Harry was too blind to see it. First had been dinner at the Manor, then the promised tickets for a Quidditch game, and now Draco was enticing Harry into flying with him on his regulation-sized pitch. Draco had even sent presents: a shimmery olive branch with silver olive-shaped bells that Harry had hung on the door, a book on famous moments in Quidditch, and a thick book on curses, jinxes, and hexes and their counter spells, translated from the original Slavic text.

Truth was, Hermione had found the spell book fascinating even though she'd had to explain its import to Harry. All of the spells were of the Indo-European languages organized by century and region. Most of the spells themselves were in written in the Cyrillic alphabet with a definite ancient Greek influence rather than the Roman Latin dialect or in the Old Macedonian in the Glagolitic alphabet. And, while most of the pronunciations of the spells and counter-spells were difficult to learn, Harry did recognize three curses as ones the Death Eaters used while fighting, which renewed his interest in the book. Hermione copied down several of the spells she just couldn't figure out in a letter to Viktor, hoping he'd be able to help her pronounce them properly.

However, it was hardly a simple trifle or ambiguous gift considering it was given three weeks before Harry's birthday. That, added to the regular delivery of flowers, meant that Draco was still trying to win her over. She wished he'd just accept that she was not going to marry anyone. Especially anyone who went through the S.H.R.M.C. for approval! She'd been fighting against the S.H.R.M.C. ever since they'd started passing laws restricting who could marry whom.

Hermione knew that the only reason Draco was interested in her was to get around the marriage law clauses by picking the least objectionable Muggle-born he knew...her. "Not that he hasn't proven for six years what a low opinion he has of me, calling me a Mudblood every chance he got," she snarled, kicking her shoe that was lying on the floor into the wardrobe. Granted he'd been quite different the last year, even amiable and helpful in fighting the ridiculous laws, but that was simply self-serving in her opinion. "Old nemesis laying aside old grievances to fight a common foe...nothing else," she mumbled aloud, as she flung herself on her bed.

"If you say so, dearie," Lucretia Black-Prewett's portrait said with a knowing grin as Callidora Longbottom, who was visiting from her frame, laughed.

Draco sat in the courtroom on Thursday, waiting with bated breath as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot organized the parchments before him. His father, strapped to the chair by the magical chains, looked worn and haggard, even with his hair well brushed and in his new Prussian blue and grey robes. Draco was sickened by the amount of weight his father had lost this time around. He'd lost quite a bit of weight after his first stay in Azkaban, but with good food, exercise, sun, and care, he'd recovered well enough. Now, even his hair looked ragged and thinner.

Tiberius Ogden finally looked up, well down, at Lucius and straightened his spectacles. "According to the reports of our interrogators, and from the memories viewed in the Pensieve, we have sufficient evidence to lock you away for life, Mr. Malfoy. However, I am most intrigued by your insistence that you only returned to Voldemort's inner circle for the well being of your family. Why you'd return in the first place...I have a hard time justifying your return to Voldemort as a loyal follower when you repeatedly claim that you no longer wished to do so. It is truly boggling... However, in many of these cases for Voldemort supporters, not just your own, we see this reoccurrence repeatedly. Likewise, your claims, and those of others in your same position, have given the interrogators repeated images of what happened to those who refused. Ghastly, absolutely ghastly.

"Furthermore, I am utterly amazed by the testimony of several upstanding members of the Order of Phoenix, Hogwarts staff members, and from Mr. Harry Potter, in particular, as well as Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Neville Longbottom, and Miss Luna Lovegood, who all gave testimony on your behalf that you took no part in the battle at Hogwarts. And I have several accounts from witnesses in Hogsmeade that you showed great restraint in dealing with them, often giving leniencies and warnings, even bravery on occasion in trying to avoid having any of the residences harmed by your fellow Death Eaters. Most confusing."

"I have many regrets of my actions during the three years of the Dark Lord's second rise, but I had no choice but return to him," Lucius said softly.

"So you and many others have said," Chief Warlock Ogden stated, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Lucius.

"It was the Dark Mark," Lucius said with a heavy sigh. "Through it he could summon us to him, but he could also use it to find us as well. It was our connection to him, and once branded, we were magically bonded. We were his to do with as he pleased...enslaved. Fleeing was not an option. Those who did were eliminated...gruesomely and violently. Their families tortured, murdered, sometimes fed to his snake or... or..." He turned his head and closed his eyes. "Worse, so much worse," he choked out with a grimace on his face. "Narcissa was my life, my love. Draco is my only son; I couldn't... I just couldn't..."

"I have seen the memories of those who witnessed such accounts," Mr. Ogden stated, placing his elbows on the bench in front of him and resting his chin on his fists with his thumbs under his chin. "From what I remember of you during the interim of peace, you were a fine, upstanding member of our community and a philanthropist." He laced his fingers together, his thumbs still under his chin, and pressed his lips against his fingers. He stared at Lucius for a long time, apparently deep in thought.

Chief Ogden lifted his head up slightly and looked at the far wall. "The Wizengamot has voted, fifty percent in favor of a life sentence, fifty to allow you to be released on probation under magical tracking and monitoring." He paused again. "So the decision is mine. The list of charitable donations to your credit is impressive, and you have done so much for our community. And so much against it."

Draco felt the man's eyes rest on him and his eyes locked, held by this man's gaze. This was it, the decision. Draco tried to maintain a calm outward appearance, but knew that he was failing. He wanted his father home with him. Draco knew without turning that his mum was sitting serenely several spaces down the row, but he didn't look at her.

"Mr. Malfoy, it is my decision that you be remanded home, under probation with constant magical tracking and monitoring."

The outcry in the room was deafening.

"You must submit your wand to the office of Magical Equipment Control two times a week, and clear any travel from your home with the Aurors. You will be required to remit payments to be arranged with my clerk, Merilynn Elizabeth Lovelle, for such charities as to be determined by the Wizengamot. That is all." He picked up the parchments and put them in the box by his side and handed the box to a clerk.

The chains fell away from Lucius, and Draco rushed forward. Mr. Shacklebolt, Harry Potter, and Mr. Williamson immediately surrounded Lucius as Mr. Pugliese helped him to stand. "Son, you should come with us," Mr. Williamson said to Draco as they led his father to the door.

Harry was really looking forward to the Quidditch game, surprisingly enough, considering that he was going with Draco and Goyle. It was still weird, his being friendly with Draco Malfoy, the git who'd been a total prat all through school, but Harry was beginning to let go of some of his reservations, even if he was slow to recognize it. He'd been to Malfoy Manor three times this month, and each time Draco had been not just nice but, well, likable. When Draco wasn't being a righteous git, he was fun to talk to, and they were evenly matched on brooms.

Harry had told Ron that he, Hermione, and Ginny were going to the Puddlemere game as soon as Draco had promised to get tickets. Ron had gotten excited about going to the game and had managed to get tickets through his girlfriend's connections.

Ron came over to Harry's for a late breakfast before the game and planned to Apparate with them at their appointed place and time. Hermione strolled down after a bit of a lie in, in her Muggle jeans and a sapphire blue sleeveless tank top and her hair tied back with a blue ribbon. "Oi, supporting Puddlemere now, are you?" Ron asked waspishly.

"What are you on about?" Hermione said curtly as she moved to sit at the other end of the table next to Ginny.

Harry looked up, his mouth full of eggs, wondering what was wrong. He'd hoped that they had worked things out. They hadn't seen each other for six months, and he'd hoped that they were getting along again.

"You're wearing Puddlemere blue," Ron pointed out, indicating her top with his fork.

"I just threw on something comfortable. I plan on wearing robes to the game, of course," Hermione quipped and then added coolly, "Good morning to you, by the way."

"Morning to you. Did you have a nice lay in?" Ginny asked as she sipped her breakfast tea.

"Oh, Merlin yes! I can't believe I got the day off. If I'd gone in, I'd have to go to the Hebrides coast today," Hermione replied, sitting as if to turn her back to Ron. She started telling Ginny about a wizard who had reported his missing wife to the Aurors that ended up involving her department, too. "Turned out she was one of the Hebrides Silkies. He had a picture of her. She was very pretty, but she had the sad, bright-eyed look of a seal and long webbed fingers in her pictures..."

Ron shrugged and started to talk to Harry about Quidditch, comparing the latest scores and ranking. "Puddlemere is third in the season, only because they beat the Wimbourne Wasps by four hundred points. The Cannons are up this year, tenth in the league! And they play the Wasps next week. Might move them up to ninth in the league if they win."

Harry glanced at the clock. "Oi, if you girls are going to change, you better get a move on!"

Both girls scrambled to their feet and Apparated upstairs to throw on robes. The girls both had on simple sleeveless robes, Hermione's robe royal blue and Ginny's a deep aquamarine, and comfortable sandals when they came back down. Harry complimented them, but Ron simply nodded, grunting, "Nice," before asking if everyone was ready to leave.

When they arrived at the Quidditch stadium in Yorkshire, Draco, Goyle, and Francine were waiting for them at the gate to the pitch. Hermione and Ginny, dragging Harry with her, hurried over to greet Francine and Goyle. Ron hung back, scowling at Draco and Goyle before waving, and disappeared into the crowd. Harry had hoped that he'd have more time to talk to Ron or that his seat was close to them, but he was gone before he could ask.

He turned back to the girls, watching Ginny and Hermione talking to Draco and Goyle and laughing. Even though Hermione and Ginny were friendly toward Goyle and Francine, both greeted them warmly, Hermione was standing stiffly and only made quick glances in Draco's direction, keeping her attention on the others in their group. When Draco suggested they find their seats, Hermione had followed Goyle and Francine up the stairs in the stands, talking about Francine's pregnancy, obviously far friendlier terms with the couple than she was with Draco. But Ginny, who'd looped arms with both Harry and Draco, talked about the newly proposed broom regulations and the new style for the Bludgers all the way to the stairs as if Draco had been a longtime friend.

Goyle led them to their row, going in first so Francine could sit with Hermione. Draco squeezed in next as he passed Harry and managed to situate himself between Ginny and Hermione, which left Harry on the end. Ginny shrugged her shoulders and laughed at Draco's smug expression. Hermione jumped up to leave with Francine for the loo, and when the girls came back, Goyle jumped up to give his girlfriend a hand, so Harry ended up sitting next to Goyle and Francine with Draco once again between Hermione and Ginny.

"Gin, what's going on?" he asked, confused.

Ginny shrugged. "Draco wanted to sit by Hermione, I suppose, and Francine said she should sit on the end since she'll probably have to visit the loo during the game."

Hermione turned and greeted the wizards on her other side. The blond wizard's eyes widened when he realized who she was, and his jaw dropped as he looked at her companions. He nudged his friend to get his attention. "Dick, it's Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley... and he's Harry Potter!" he said, lightly smacking his friend again to get his attention.

His friend turned, his eyes going wide, obviously equally as gobsmacked. "Blimey, you here, at a Quidditch match!"

Hermione laughed as Draco grumbled, "Of course! Like she's never been to a match before."

"We have a friend who plays for Puddlemere, Oliver Wood," she replied, which made Harry snicker softly at the slight stretching of the truth. Hermione hadn't known Wood all that well at school, since he had been three years ahead of them.

"Blimey, you're friends with the Keeper?" Dick exclaimed in amazement.

Goyle asked Harry a question, making Harry turn around in his seat. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

"Are you excited about seeing your ol' team mate?" he repeated, smirking slightly.

"Er, yeah," Harry admitted.

"He was a good player, but I remember he used to book the pitch really early for practices," Goyle remarked, as if trying to engage Harry in conversation.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, about to respond, when the official Quijudge from the Department of Magical Games and Sports began the announcements. Two referees soared onto the pitch as they were introduced and the Keeper of the Balls carried out the Quidditch trunk to the center of the field.

Much to Harry's stunned amazement, Greg turned out to be an all right bloke. At a half-hour time-out, they talked about what had happened at Hogwarts, the marriage law, and how he and Francine had gotten together, until the game started. Greg had even cracked jokes, and they debated the advantages of using Muggle appliances over magic during another long timeout. Greg had been fascinated that Harry had learned to cook on an electric range top stove and laughed when Harry told him some of his mishaps in the kitchen.

The game between Puddlemere and Ballycastle had been an awesome game.

The game had been a tie until a Bludger had hit Oliver Wood seven hours in, letting Ballycastle score twice before Puddlemere's Seeker had caught the Snitch, so Puddlemere had won by one-hundred and thirty points. The post-game fireworks, courtesy of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, were huge, blue, blooming flowers, Catherine wheels and gold streamers for Puddlemere and huge red bats for Ballycastle.

Draco and Greg held out the Portkey, so they could go to the victory party. Wood had revived by the time the six of them had been allowed into the banquet hall.

Wood had been thrilled to see Harry again and introduced their small group to all of his teammates. Likewise, the Puddlemere Quidditch players had been thrilled to meet the famous Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley.

By the end of the after party, both Greg and Francine had been invited to Harry's for dinner. Harry had extended the invitation to Draco, simply to be polite, thinking that he really should've had his head examined.

Saturday at Harry's didn't start out smoothly. Harry was still amazed, seeing how familiar Ginny and Hermione were toward Greg and Francine, and the change in Greg from what Harry remembered from school was remarkable. He truly was a reformed wizard in Harry's opinion.

Ron exited the Floo, dusted himself off and turned to greet his friends, only to stop short when he saw who was already in the drawing room. "What's he doing here?" he said, pointing to either Draco or Greg or possibly both.

"I was invited, so I came," Draco said calmly with an affable smile.

Harry quickly walked over to Ron. "Ron, I er, after the game, I..."

Ginny had hurried over to defuse the situation. "Oh buck up! Ron, they're my friends," she said with a firm but friendly tone. "A lot happened last year, and Draco and Greg have really been trying to turn over a new leaf, so you should cut them some slack." She hitched her thumb in Draco's direction. "Draco's not so bad once you get to know him...or Greg."

"I thought I knew him rather well, didn't we, Harry?" Ron snapped, putting his hand on Ginny's arm as he maneuvered around her.

"Some people do grow up, Ron," Hermione said from where she was standing, talking with Francine and Greg.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron snapped, his ears turning red.

"Hey, cool it!" Ginny snapped back, grasping Ron's arm.

Francine turned to Greg with a worried expression. "Maybe we should..."

"No, you're welcome here, both of you," Hermione insisted firmly, turning to Greg and Francine. "I was hoping that..."

"Don't you remember all the times he attacked you? Or the time he..."

"Oh, shove it, Ron!" Ginny snarled. "Before I do your nut!"

"Perhaps we should have drinks?" Harry suggested, obviously at a loss as to how to defuse the situation. "Anyone want a butterbeer?"

Hermione laughed at the tactic, remembering her mum doing the same thing at a family gathering when her dad and uncle had been at odds over her granddad's small motor boat. Kreacher appeared with a tray loaded with butterbeers. Ginny handed a butterbeer to Draco as Hermione handed one to Greg and held out another for Ron to take.

Ron was too busy scowling to notice. "So when exactly did you and the ferret become friends?"

"Francine, what would you like?" Hermione asked, giving up on Ron and sipping on the butterbeer herself.

Harry grasped Ron by the arm and pulled him aside.

"Ah, tea would be nice," Francine said softly.

Hermione nodded, turning to ask Winky for tea, but the house-elf wasn't in the room. She shrugged and smiled at Francine. "We weren't exactly cordial during our first years at Hogwarts," she said, indicating toward Greg.

"Oh, I know all too well how you two were in school," Francine said with a soft chuckle. "You and your friends against Draco and his. Everyone knew!" She excused herself to go talk to Harry and Ron.

"Maybe I should go talk to him, too," Greg said, watching his fiancée trying to calm Ron down. Ginny walked over to join Harry and Ron as well.

"Why don't you tell me what your plans are, you know, what you plan on doing for a living," Hermione suggested as Draco came to stand by her.

"I've been offered a job with Dalton Troll Securities," Greg said with a bemused smirk. "And my uncle said that I can work with him, if I want to apprentice to him that is. He repairs homes, a carpenter. I like drawing houses and turns out I'm right good at doing floor plans and designing cabinetry. Some of it's hands-on-work instead of wand work, but I liked building forts as a kid."

"Greg, that's fantastic!" Hermione said, smiling. "Harry hired a wizard, Denton Brodie, to do work on his house. He had a wall replaced in the entry, among other things."

Greg smiled. "Denton Brodie is my uncle," he said proudly.

Hermione glanced over at her friends. Francine was talking to Ron, who looked as if he'd calmed down considerably, even if he was shooting dark glances their way, most likely at Greg and Draco.

Kreacher and Winky arrived with trays of pigs-in-a-blanket, mini quiches, cheese and crackers, fresh fruit, and bruschetta, things she was sure Harry had seen when he had been living with the Dursleys. Hermione quickly piled some on a small plate. "Winky, please hand this to Ron," she asked her house-elf when she carried in a tray of veggies with two dips, hoping that the food would shut him up.

Draco watched her with an amused smirk. "I thought that you wanted to free all the house-elves in school."

"I don't like enslavement, but I have come to understand the house-elves a bit more over the years," she said coolly, turning to glare at him. "I am appalled when I find out that families are cruel to their servants, and I intend to find a way for them to be able to dissolve the house-elf enslavement if their masters are mean to them."

"It's the master's fault, then?" Draco asked.

"Most like their masters, Hermione," Greg said between bites.

"I know that Dobby was miserable under your family's care," she said to Draco, stressing care sarcastically.

Draco smirked. "He was always breaking...the other four are quite happy."

"I'll believe that when I see it," she said, helping herself to the fruit and bruschetta.

Draco picked up a pig-in-a-blanket, examining the morsel. "You're welcome over any time you like. I seem to have made that offer before in regards to the library." He bit off half, and his eye brows rose as he chewed.

"Thank you for extending the invitation to use your library," Hermione stated, "but I'm afraid I have to decline."

Goyle was holding one of the pastry wrapped weenies by the toothpick as he examined it closely. "Er, what's this?"

"A pig-in-a-blanket," she replied. "It's a common Muggle hors d'oeuvre."

Greg popped it in his mouth. "Emm! Eph is good!"

Draco picked up a mini quiche. "Just so you know that the offer stands; you're welcome in my home any time you'd like, for as long as you'd like."

"Thank you," Hermione replied absent-mindedly as she watched Ron glare at them from where he was leaning in the doorway. Ginny was still apparently trying to talk some sense into him, but it was falling on deaf ears. Ron turned and left the room.

"... books, Hermione?"

"I'm sorry, Draco, what did you say? I was distracted," she replied, turning to face the guys.

"I was wondering if you'd managed to buy all your course books yet," Draco repeated and sipped on his butterbeer.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Harry took me shopping for them," she replied, smiling at Harry from across the room.

Draco eyes flicked from her to Harry and back. "Is that why you're working at the Ministry?" he asked, watching her intently.

"Girl's got to pay for law school somehow," Hermione said dismissively, helping herself to an hors d'oeuvres.

Edithe arrived for Sunday dinner with Graceilla wearing her favorite rose-colored robes. She desperately wanted to look nice for Stanford Brumfeild. Graceilla's home was wonderfully arranged, each furnishing sized just right for the location where Graceilla had placed them. Even the pianoforte was the perfect size for under the parlor window.

Edithe always felt so special dining at Graceilla's home. Her table was set with the Royal Dalton Litchfield, a pattern she was sure had been named after Graceilla's lovely mother Eugina Litchfield. The Waterford goblets sparkled and the sterling was perfectly polished...

Her friend really knew how to make a guest feel special. After a delicious dinner of plum grouse and sprouts, they all adjourned to the sitting room where Graceilla brought out her lovely Irish Belleek teacups, saucers and tea service. The lovely white china with its adorable shamrock designs was so special in Edithe's mind.

"So, Miss Havershiems, my niece informs me that you have been trying to make good on my proposal for improving our future magical generations," Healer Brumfield stated, balancing the teacup on his knee.

Edithe felt her cheeks flush. "Please, I'd be most honored if you'd call me Edithe," she said, gazing at him in adoration. He smiled and repeated her name, "Edithe, and I'd be pleased if you'd address me as Stanford. No need for friends to stand on formalities, is there?"

Edithe clapped hand to her chest, gushing at being given such an honor as to consider him a friend.

Graceilla told Stamford that they were meeting some resistance.

Stanford turned to Edithe, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought that the insolence of those children had been resolved?"

Edithe told him about the actions of the students, and how their rebellion was spreading to the general public. "We've had secret weddings to curtail, a rash of unplanned pregnancies, a few suicide attempts, and now some of my unions are falling apart... They want to absolve my carefully chosen unions! It's horrible!"

Stamford sat listening to her, nodding occasionally and stroking his lower lip with his finger. "Why not simply use the Dextrarum iunctio, the Fede Charm on each census form. They are signed, yes? It's simply, mani in fede, 'hands in trust' or 'hands in faith.' I have the signet somewhere: fede rings in the form of two clasped hands, right hands, surmounted by a crown, symbolizing faith, trust or 'plighted troth.' Each person who signed their census would bear the mark of the Claddugh. Those who are matched by you the heart would be turned inward toward the hand, indicating that their heart was captured...betrothed. Would solve your problem nicely."

"Can I do that?"

"Don't see why not? You've got the law to back you," Stamford said as he popped a mini pastry puff in his mouth. "I can send you a copy of the scroll with the specifics of the spell when I return home, er, on Wednesday, actually. I'll be out of town until then."

Edithe smiled in reverent awe of the wizard, amazed at how clever he truly was.