A/N: sorry for not updating in a while guys. School has been dragging me down a bit, so this is a shorter chapter. I'll try and make the next one longer :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

The few days after Christmas were quiet around Grimmauld Place.

Harry spent every waking moment that he could with Draco, trying to convince himself that he'd earned forgiveness.

It had been a rather fun day when Harry had introduced Draco to the television that Sirius had bought, which was now in one of the living rooms. He'd been terrified of it at first, wondering why there were tiny people in a box. After Harry had explained, he'd managed to calm down a bit, but was still uneasy about the muggle contraption.

It was the last day of the holidays. Harry and Draco were both dreading going back, as they'd now gotten used to the routine of wearing pyjamas all day, cuddled up on a couch.

Harry though, had managed to find the initiative in himself to pack his clothes and other possessions in his trunk, and had actually gotten dressed that day. Yawning, he ran a hand through his already messy hair and trotted down the staircase.

Draco was waiting for him, dumping his own trunk to collect early tomorrow morning. They had to leave at dawn to get to the train platform in time, as the Black family house was pretty far away from King's Cross Station.

"Good morning," Harry mumbled. Draco responded with a tired huff, sitting on the dining room table. Harry followed suit, both of them watching slightly amusedly as Newt stumbled into the room.

He'd brightened up, if only slightly, over the past few days. No disappearances had been announced over the past week, which was rather unusual these days. Nevertheless, no one was complaining to have a less bitter Newt Scamander walking around.

Remus was the next to wake up, although when he walked in he looked like he probably hadn't slept at all. He looked worn down, weary, and even a bit sad, but he still managed to put on a weak smile and a faux cheery attitude.

"Excited to go back to school?"

"No," Newt, Draco and Harry groaned, although Newt's answer was muffled around the food in his mouth.

******

"Harry," Draco whispered, poking the vampire's cheek. "Cmon, it's time to wake up."

Harry let out a quiet whine, nuzzling further into Draco's neck. "Don't want to."

"Well, you don't have a choice," Draco replied. "We're going to be late for the train."

Finally Harry opened his eyes, shooting a weak glare at the werewolf. It was still dark, but he knew that they'd have to leave soon if they wanted to be on time.

Begrudgingly, he got out of bed and threw on some clothes.

As soon as the four piled into the car Remus had rented, he was back fast asleep on Draco's shoulder. The drive was mostly silent, Newt watching the world fly past and the sunrise, leaning his head on the cold glass window.

Kings Cross was buzzing with people when they arrived, the small group of four discreetly making their way onto the platform.

Harry smiled as he saw the red steam engine, huffing out billowing clouds of white smog. Every time he lay eyes on the huge machine, it filled him with an odd sense of nostalgia. He remembered the first time he saw it, gazing in utter wonder and shock, not having her recovered from the shock of running through a brick wall.

Remus pulled Draco and Harry each into a hug. "You be good for the rest of school, okay? Try not to get into too much trouble."

Both of them nodded, smiling.

"You too," Remus grinned, pulling Newt into a hug. The man let out a squeak of shock, before frowning in fake annoyance. A smile quickly found its way onto his lips as he hugged Remus back.

******

Harry and Draco, thankfully, managed to find an empty compartment. Neither had seen Hermione or the Weasleys since Christmas or the end of school, and they didn't want to be the first to approach them.

Harry knew that they were all beyond suspicious now, and he had no idea how much snooping Ron had done in his room. What if he'd opened one of the bottles, or what if they'd already figured it out?

The idea alone terrified him. Would they hate him? Perceive him as nothing more than a bloodthirsty monster, would they be afraid of him? Would they stereotype him, think of him as an ally to Voldemort even?

He pushed these thoughts aside as he heard the trolley lady beginning to call into the compartments, asking the students if they'd like anything. Harry frowned, standing up and opening the door.

"Anything from the trolley, dear?" She asked, smiling kindly up at him.

"Do you have a Daily Prophet, by any chance?" Harry asked. The little lady nodded, Harry handing over a few coins to pay for the paper.

He noticed Hermione standing in the hallway, about to walk into a compartment three down from his own. He froze, watching her. She sent him a rather unsure and accusative glance, but walked back into her own compartment without throwing a clove of garlic at him or trying to drive a stake through his heart.

"What's that?" Draco asked, having long drawn the blinds around the compartment to block out the 'offending' sunlight.

"Daily Prophet," Harry replied, sitting in Draco's lap and snuggling into his chest, the werewolf threading his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry frowned at the front page of the paper.

Ten black and white photographs filled the front page, nine of them showing wizards' faces and the tenth showing a witches'. They were all silently jeering at the camera, foul glares on their faces. Underneath each picture was a caption of their name, and what they had been supposedly convicted for.

Antonin Dolohov, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

Algernon Rookwood, convicted of leaking Ministry Of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named.

Draco's breath caught in his throat as he recognised the last picture, the one of the only female on the page. Her hair was frizzy and wild, sticking out in all directions and framing what once might have been a beautiful face, if she wasn't sneering viciously at the camera.

Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

His aunt. She'd only been caught a month after he and Harry had been turned, and reading the headline made his heart sink.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN, MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS A 'RALLYING POINT' FOR OLD DEATH EATERS.

Draco frowned as he read the paper. A mass breakout from Azkaban? They thought that Sirius was leading them? No wonder the Ministry was frowned upon by many these days.

"Newt won't be happy when he sees this," Harry murmured.

"What, you think it was Credence?"

"It might have been."

"I don't think it was," Draco said. "It doesn't seem to be something that he'd do. The majority of people that have gone missing or have been killed so far were ex-death eaters, or we're currently death eaters. I don't see the logic in him breaking out a whole lot of them."

******

The month of January sped by, and soon February was upon them. The snow had melted, and hearts and candy were being tossed around as Valentine's Day drew nearer and nearer.

Harry made sure he dressed as well as he could when the 14th rolled around, planning to spend the day in Hogsmeade with Draco.

The road down to Hogsmeade was packed with students, all enjoying the opportunity to leave the confines of the castle for a bit. Due to everyone chattering and laughing with their friends, Draco and Harry went unnoticed.

Hermione and Ron had asked Harry to join them in Hogsmeade today. It was probably the first time they'd really spoken since before Christmas. Harry had, of course, said no. Today was a day he wanted to spend with Draco, and Draco alone.

******

Hermione stood in Honeydukes, tapping her foot boredly as she waited for Ron to finally finish paying for the huge chocolate bar he had dragged her in here to buy. Seeing the line at the counter, she sighed and turned to look out the window.

The snow had long melted, taking with it the cold weather and rain. A few clouds dotted the periwinkle blue sky, the sun shining brightly and warmly down upon the town. It was definitely a beautiful day, and one she'd rather spend outside than in a candy store. Besides, she had to go and find Harry in half an hour.

Students were walking along the street, some holding hands and others in groups, laughing and enjoying a day without classes. Two caught her eye, one with midnight black hair and the other with white. Well, that was one of her problems solved.

She couldn't help the glare that crossed her face as she watched them. After all the things Ron had told her that he'd found while looking around in their rooms, she was even more suspicious.

Hermione watched as they talked, both looking happy with smiles on their faces. Harry spoke, grinning as Draco blushed and diverted his gaze to the ground. Hermione raised an eyebrow, wondering what Harry could have said to make Draco blush like that.

Her eyes widened as the realisation hit her, the pieces of the puzzle finally starting to link together. How they were inseparable, how Harry treated Draco unlike how he'd treated Hermione or Ron. How Harry still appeared to paint his fingernails, and how Ron had found Harry's shirt in Draco's room.

Her theory was even more fuelled as Harry held open the door to The Three Broomsticks for Draco, and her heart plummeted.

******

Newt strolled along the road in Hogsmeade, watching the world around him with little interest.

He'd received a letter from Umbridge this morning stated that he was on probation, and that Hagrid was as well. Was she just planning to destroy the Care Of Magical Creatures class altogether? Right now it seemed like it.

Newt hated her so incredibly much, mostly because of those little smirks and smiles she gave him that made him feel inferior to her. He hated people who thought they were above others, and that they had the right to push other people around. One day she'd get what she deserved.

The faces of the ten death eaters that were on the loose leered at him from every shop window, their faces plastered everywhere he looked with captions such as 'dangerous wizards; do not approach'.

When he'd first seen that headline he'd frowned, and pondered over it for many days. If it was Credence who'd broken them out, that didn't make much sense. It would make more sense for him to waltz into Azkaban and massacre all the death eaters there, instead of helping them leave and wreak havoc.

The disappearances had gone quiet since Christmas. None for nearly two months now, that had to have been a record.

Yet the ring on Newt's finger still refused to come off, signalling that he was definitely still alive.

Somewhere.

******

"Harry!" Hermione called as she walked into The Three Broomsticks. The black haired boy was sitting at a table with Draco, laughing at something the Slytherin had said.

"Hermione!" Harry replied, looking surprised, shocked, scared and a tiny bit upset.

"Sorry to interrupt," she threw a quick glance at Draco, who was watching her cautiously. "I had an idea a few days ago, and I managed to organise a meeting.

"With who?" Harry questioned.

"You'll find out, come on," she said, walking across the room.

Harry groaned. "Sorry about her," he mumbled, overlapping his and Draco's fingers over the table for a brief second.

"It's fine," Draco replied. "Let's go and she what she wants."

They followed Hermione, Harry stopping dead when they reached a table, eyes narrowing. Hermione was sat down opposite a very skeptical and perplexed looking Rita Skeeter. Luna was sat with them, stirring a tea with a cocktail onion on a stick, a dreamy look on her face. "What's she doing here?"

Rita raised an eyebrow. "Little miss perfect was just about to tell me when she ran off to find you..." She trailed off, seeing Draco. "Two."

"Don't call me 'little miss perfect'" Hermione huffed. "Or the deal's off."

"What deal? You just told me to turn up here, miss prissy," Rita snapped. "One of these days, I swear..."

"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Harry and I, find someone who actually cares," Hermione snarled.

"The Prophet's already written a lot of horrible stories about Harry," Rita said, examining her scarlet fingernails, the polish looking chipped. "And still you stick to it, all this garbage about You-Know-Who returning that Dumbledore's been spouting to everyone."

"I wasn't the sole witness," Harry growled. "There were lots of death eaters there. D'you want their names?"

"I'd love them," Rita replied, digging through her crocodile skin bag and pulling out a acid green quill. She paused. "But wait, you wouldn't want that story out there."

"As a matter of fact," Hermione said with a smile so sickly sweet it reminded Harry of Umbridge, "that is what we want."

Everyone stared at her, except for Luna, who was singing dreamily under her breath.

"You want me to report what he says about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Rita asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Harry will give you names, all the facts, what he saw-"

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. He didn't agree to this.

"The Prophet wouldn't print it," Rita cut her off. "Everyone thinks he's delusional. If you let me write it from that angle, then-"

"We don't need another story about how Harry's lost his marbles!" Hermione snapped. "We've had plenty of those. We need an opportunity for him to tell the truth!"

"No one will buy a story like that-"

"You mean no one will buy it because Fudge won't let the prophet print it?" Hermione countered.

"Okay, Fudge might be leaning on The Prophet. They won't print a story that shows Harry in a good light, nobody wants to read it."

"So The Prophet only exists to tell people what they want to hear?"

"The Prophet exists to sell itself, you silly girl," Rita said coldly.

Finally, Luna spoke. "My dad thinks it's an awful paper. He publishes important stories that he thinks the public needs to know about. He's not interested in money," she said.

"And what paper does your father run?" Rita asked.

"The Quibbler," Luna replied.

Rita snorted.

"Well Luna's father is quite happy to take Harry's interview," Hermione interjected. "That's who'll be publishing it."

"The Quibbler?" Rita cackled. "You think people will take him seriously if it's published in that little magazine?"

"Well, some people won't. But The Prophets story on the ten escapee death eaters had some rather large holes in it. Maybe if this is published in a rather, well, unusual magazine, some might be keen too read it.," Hermione said.

Rita bit her lip, tapping her green quill against a piece of parchment. "Say I do write this, what exactly do I get out of it?"

"My dad doesn't pay people for their stories," Luna said. "They write them because it's an honour, and of course, to see their name in printing."

Rita snorted. "You expect me to do this for free?"

"Or," Hermione said with an evil smile. "You could write it from Azkaban. I bet the Ministry would love to hear about how you're an unregistered animagus-"

Rita looked panicked for a moment. "Fine, fine, I'll do it."

"Good. Ready to tell the truth then?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry.

Harry frowned. "I suppose so," he watched Rita carefully.

"Alright then," the reporter said, Hermione pulling up chairs for both Harry and Draco. "Let's start with names. Who was there?"

"Okay, there was," Harry paused to jog his memory for a few seconds. "Crabbe senior, Goyle senior, Nott senior, Peter Pettigrew," Harry continued listing names, pausing when he reached Lucius. He threw Draco a quick glance, who was looking at the table. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by Draco.

"Lucius Malfoy," Draco spoke. Rita turned to look at him, and Hermione's eyes widened. Even Luna paused, watching with interest.

Harry nodded. "He was there."