Draco made his way out of the hall as quickly as possible, easily avoiding Harry who was surrounded by his friends. He went straight back to the Slytherin dorm and collapsed on his bed. He allowed himself to briefly indulge in the idea of wallowing in despair before dragging himself to his desk to write his mother a quick letter and assure her everything was fine. Newspapers were her only link to the outside world, and he knew the Prophet's nonsense would have her fretting.

He was nearly finished when Pansy came in and sat on his bed with a huff. She didn't interrupt him, flipping through a magazine as he finished writing.

"I'll get lunch while you mail that?" Pansy suggested as he pressed his seal to the letter and wove a few magical protections into the cooling wax so only his kin could open it.

"You don't have to," Draco said.

Pansy shrugged, "It will be nice to eat here, away from all the noise."

Draco wanted to complain but gave up immediately. He retrieved his jacket and took the long way to the owlery to avoid as many people as possible. That became more difficult as the went up the tower stairs, quite a few other students were coming and going from sending their own letters. They all gave him a wide berth, one first year actually broke into a run when they saw him.

Pansy had sandwiches and a ginger beer when he came back, there was also water, but the ginger beer was for him.

They set up a picnic on the mattress of one of the empty beds and Pansy showed him the stack muggle magazines Jenna and Melanie had lent her. They flipped through them, talking about the stupid articles and strange fashions. Most of them didn't actually look good on the models. He suspected it was like the top robe designers in europe; a top designer made it, it was expensive and exclusive therefore it was avant-garde, so everyone pretended that it wasn't as ugly as a pile of shite. The article Pansy was most interested in was about nails, unsurprisingly.

"Nail art," Pansy said, "I mean it seems obvious, you're painting the nails, why not decorate them like a painting?" She smoothed her fingers over a picture of a tiny daisy frozen in the act of being painted onto a pale blue nail. "I wonder what sort of detail I could manage with a few charms? Or even... the charms they use to make paintings move..."

"As long as you don't bring them to life," Draco said, "That could be a bit grim."

Pansy gave him a look, "Those are insanely complicated and far too difficult to do on accident."

"If you're not drunk," Draco said.

Pansy smacked his arm.

"No, but really, can you draw?" Draco asked, "I've never even seen you doodle."

Pansy deepened her pout, "Arsehole."

"It's true," Draco shrugged and flipped to a full page spread of face washes.

"Okay." Pansy sat up and summoned her makeup bag, dumping it all onto the bed, sorting through the mess and finding every bottle of nail lacquer.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Pansy shoved the pile to the side, "Experimenting." She took her wand out, "Hands please."

Draco sighed and reluctantly held his hands out.

Pansy took off the illusion magic, so his blue nails were once more visible to the world. She murmured a few spells over his hands, her brow furrowing as she went until she leaned back with a frustrated frown, "I need to see the memory of when I cast this charm."

"So you can take it off?"

"So I can use it for my own nails. You don't even need protection charms, I wonder how long these would last without chipping," She scratched her own nail over Draco's without any effect.

Draco repeated slowly with emphasis, "So you can take it off?"

Pansy rolled her eyes, "I suppose."

"Can't you just paint on top of it?" Draco asked.

Pansy looked at the bottles she had on her and at his nails, "If the colour was darker I could do stars..."

"Stars?" Draco grinned faintly.

"I might as well start with something easy. I just want to see if I can do it."

The bell rang for the first classes after lunch. Pansy and Draco looked at each other, and both said, "Skip?' and nodded,"Skip."

Pansy took his hands again and cast another charm, this one actually worked and darkened the colour on his nails to a midnight blue colour. She picked up the bottle of white varnish and shook it. Draco held out one hand and flipped through the magazine with the other. He huffed a sigh when Pansy took that hand as well. Draco watched her apply tiny white dots with the tip of her tongue sticking out in concentration.

"So...you seem okay..." Pansy ventured.

Draco shrugged one shoulder.

"Even though you were hit by a severing charm?" Pansy asked, managing to keep her voice admirably level.

"Grazed really."

"I didn't even notice," Pansy said. She had to stop painting until her hand stopped shaking. She laughed rather weakly, "Just a few years ago a cut like that would have you howling for weeks."

Draco hummed under his breath, "Back then people might have felt bad for me."

"Who did it?"

Draco shrugged again, "I didn't see. I thought I'd just bruised side against the table."

Pansy dipped the little applicator brush into the bottle, "How are you so calm?"

"It's less calm and more numb," Draco said with a sigh, "I feel a bit like I'm standing behind myself like none of it really happened to me."

Pansy looked up at him with a frown.

Draco shook his head, "It'll probably wear off just in time to give me nightmares."

Pansy looked back down at his nails. She conjured a small paintbrush with only a few bristles and then one with only one bristle, vanishing about every other dot she placed, white paint staining her fingertips and cuticles unnoticed as she worked.

"What are you going to do tomorrow?"

Draco looked up at the ceiling and then back down at his hands, "I might try a mild notice-me-not spell out in the halls-"

"Sixth and seventh years will be able to tell you're using it," Pansy said.

Draco nodded, "I'm willing to take that risk. And I'll sit in the back during class and eat in the kitchens. What I can do is fairly limited by how stupid Potter decides to be."

"Back to Potter, are we?"

"Yes," Draco muttered, "He's seriously so fucking-" he sighed.

"So at least this whole Potter relationship is over then?"

"Over?" Draco frowned, the idea- he just- "No?" he said faintly.

A droplet of paint dripped off Pansy's brush and fell onto her stocking

Draco shook his head, "It's not over. Not until he says it's over."

"Are you kidding me?" Pansy said, "After this morning? After he got you attacked? After he's made everything worse for you and now you have to live with it for the rest of the year?"

"When you say it like that it sounds a bit-"

"When I-! Draco, he's fucking intolerable!" Pansy snapped, "Why in the world would you want to stay in any sort of relationship with him?!"

"Because I want him," Draco said.

Pansy stared at him.

Draco repeated, "I want him."

"You- You greedy, selfish bitch, you're not a kid anymore!" Pansy said in frustration.

"No... I'm not," Draco said with growing certainty, "This isn't me begging for a crup for months only to lose interest in it after two days. I want to be with him."

"He hasn't just hurt your feelings, he got you physically hurt!"

Draco said, "I told you from the beginning it was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. You think I'd give up even a sliver of a relationship with him just because he's being stupid? He spent six years being stupid. I never expected him to suddenly develop intelligence and forethought."

"Fucking fuck of all fucks," Pansy shook her head, "Here. What are you getting out of this beside a bit of a secret snog every now and then? Potter hasn't apologised for mutilating you in sixth year, he hasn't told you he likes you, he hasn't said you're dating or exclusive. What makes it worth all this?"

"This is a bit of turn," Draco said, "You were supportive last night."

"That was before this morning. Now answer the question because I'm starting to think you need to see a mind healer on account of being delusional."

"He helped me with the wolfsbane, he's quite a good kisser-"

Pansy narrowed her eyes.

"-he held my hand, and he's told me some of his worries and some of his secrets, and I've told him some of mine, and he's trusted me when he really shouldn't have." Draco started to lift his hands to fuss with his hair and pressed them firmly back onto the mattress, "It's not perfect, but I've liked being with him far far more than I've disliked the things he's done. And I never thought it would be easy."

Pansy groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

"And it will be excellent for blackmail in the future."

Pansy snorted, nearly choked, coughed, and laughed and laugh until her whole face turned red as a tomato, "You arse-!"

Draco smiled faintly, "I've thought about what you said last night, and I'm certainly not going to talk to him until he puts a bit of effort in."

"A lot," Pansy said faintly, bracing her hands on the mattress to try and catch her breath. "A lot of effort." She took a deep breath and sat a little bit straighter, "Fine. I won't murder him but only because you're more annoying when you're mad at me than when you're depressed."

"I'm not annoying."

Pansy snorted.

"I'm a treasure."

Pansy laughed and rubbed her cheek, leaving a faint white smear of paint. She gestured at his hands, "What do you think?"

Draco looked at his nails, the little white spots could have been stars, they were clean and well spaced and interestingly grouped like star clusters and nebulae. It was excellent for a first try. Draco wasn't surprised. Pansy didn't care about much, but the things she did care about she put a hundred percent of her effort into.

"Could you make them sparkle as well?" Draco asked.

Pansy's eyes lit up, and she summoned her massive advanced charm theory book, flipping through page after page of lighting spells.

"Can't you just pick one?" Draco asked.

"No." Pansy said flatly.

"Can you charm them dry so I can at least look at a magazine?" Draco asked.

Pansy pretended not to hear him.

Draco slumped onto his side.

"Don't smear them."

"I'm not," Draco whined.

"Here," Pansy murmured a series of charms over his hands but Draco didn't move until she nudged him with her foot, "Look, you."

Draco held his hands up and smiled at the tiny glittery shining stars on his nails, "Perfect."

"I'll get even better," Pansy said. She swirled her wand, "Here, I'll put an illusion over them again."

"No," Draco said, rolling out of reach.

"But you said-"

"It can't get much worse," Draco said, "I like them. I want to see them."

"Really?" Pansy said with a hesitant smile.

Draco nodded, "They're divine, Pans."

_____

"Macpherson."

The gargoyle guarding the headmistress' tower jumped aside, allowing Draco to step onto the moving staircase. Draco clutched his bag to his side, he wasn't sure what McGonagall would want him to do but assumed it would be something academic rather than menial labour, detention with Fitch was what you got if you were going to scrub toilets or flagstones.

He stepped off the stairs into McGonagall's office, looking around curiously. There were bookshelves filled with ancient tomes he would have loved to peruse. Displayed on top of the bookshelves were what looked like old quidditch memorabilia and collectables along with a few more recent pieces. The house cup had been moved to the office rather than the dusty trophy room along with a few framed photos of past Gryffindor house teams.

The wall behind the Headmistress' desk was crowded with portraits. The large centre portrait right behind the chair was currently empty, many other portraits were either empty, or its occupant was sleeping.

"Take a seat, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk.

The stiff old leather and wood creaked loudly as Draco sat down.

"Tea?" McGonagall offered, floating a delicate china cup in front of him and filling it without waiting for his response. The small tea service on the corner of the desk, jingled as it shifted minutely, drawing his attention to it.

"Thank you," Draco said politely, adding milk and sugar to his cup and stirring it very carefully so that he didn't touch the sides or scrape the bottom.

McGonagall picked up a cup of her own and leaned back in her chair, "Poppy says I should switch to herbal and fruit teas after dinner, but I can't abide them."

"Headmistress-"

"Professor is fine," McGonagall, "Headmistress is quite a mouthful."

"Professor, then, what do you want me to do? For... for my detention?"

McGonagall gave him a flat look over her cup, "Would you like to do something?"

"Not necessarily," Draco said.

McGonagall nodded and took another sip of tea, "There will be plenty for you to do later. But now, we're due a proper conversation."

"Are we?" Draco asked, feeling nervous.

"This summer, I was quite surprised to receive that letter of yours, asking me to verify the quality of your potions so that you could donate them."

"...I apologise if I took up your time," Draco said.

"I had time, even if I did have to brush up on potions for the first time in decades, I simply couldn't quite imagine why you asked me of all people," McGonagall said, "Surely there are others that are better qualified or better known-"

"Better known than the Headmistress of Hogwarts?" Draco asked.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, "You know what I mean, young man."

"Well..." Draco picked up his cup, "You convinced the aurors to give me house arrest instead of sending me to azkanban and testified at my trial."

"I gave testimony for all of my students who were charged after the war."

Draco stared at the milky tea, "You were fair. You didn't have to be."

"I simply spoke the truth," McGonagall said.

"The truth can sound quite damning depending on how it's said or twisted. Dour is proof enough of that."

McGonagall sighed and nodded, "Yes. That is unfortunate."

"Thank you for that and for verifying my-"

"You already thanked me in your letter," McGonagall said.

"Some things are best said in person. It meant a great deal."

McGonagall refilled her cup, "They were exceptionally high-quality potions."

Draco nodded, "It was more that you trusted me to brew them well. I don't get much trust these days, I've come to value it very highly."

"Would you care for a biscuit?"

Draco looked up, "What?"

McGonagall gestured to a plate, "A biscuit, Mr Malfoy. We must keep our strength up."

Draco took a chocolate-chip biscuit.

"I also had to wonder why you decided to undertake such a task," McGonagall said.

"...I was bored," Draco said, taking a small bite of the biscuit.

"You were confined to your home before your trial without a wand."

Draco nodded.

"And?" McGonagall prompted, "boredom hardly seems a good enough reason to put in so much effort, especially for you."

Draco's cup wavered and nearly spilt onto his trousers, he quickly set it back in its saucer.

McGonagall waited.

Draco took a deep breath, "...Boredom was part of it but I... I also wanted revenge-"

"Revenge?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"On the people that ruined my life, that stayed in my home and gave me nightmares. But I couldn't. They were dead or in prison, and I'd never actually be able to- to-" he swallowed hard. "...So I decided to undo everything that they had worked towards. To ruin their fucked up idea of a 'perfect world' and put everything back just as it was."

"Brewing potions while there were shortages, and providing free wolfsbane to Greyback's victims-" McGonagall drifted off waiting expectantly.

"... There wasn't much I could do without exposing my name..."

McGonagall set her cup back in its saucer and folded her hands together on the desk.

Draco shifted nervously in his seat, "...and no interest loans to businesses that couldn't afford to re-open after the war."

"Revenge does sound about right," McGonagall said.

Draco took a miserable bite of biscuit.

McGonagall shook her head, smiling faintly, "You should be proud of yourself."

Draco looked up in shock, "But-"

"A person doing good for selfish reasons doesn't change the fact that they've done good," McGonagall said, "You've done a lot of good, Draco, and found a way to help yourself in process. There's a lot to be said for that as well."

"...Thank you," Draco said quietly.

"You did all the work," McGonagall said.

"Still, thank you."

McGonagall smiled, "Your chocolate is melting."

"Oh," Draco quickly ate the last bite his biscuit and stuck his fingers in his mouth before remembering he ought to have used his wand to clean his hands.

"I prefer the ginger ones myself," McGonagall said appearing not to notice. She selected one from the plate, "They're quite nice dipped in tea."

Draco nodded stiffly.

McGonagall picked up a piece of parchment from her desk, pushing her glasses down her nose to read it, "Do you know a ...sixth year Hufflepuff, Pernella Liftwerp?"

"No. Should I?"

McGonagall dropped the parchment and pushed her glasses back up, "She was the student that cast the severing charm at you this morning."

"...Did she say why?" Draco asked, internally bracing himself.

McGonagall shook her head, "She saw you and Harry arguing and when you both stood she said she was afraid you might hurt him and cast it without thinking."

Draco nodded, "What's going to happen- is she-?"

"Her punishment is twenty points from her house and two weeks detention with Poppy in the hospital wing. I hope it helps her understand how very dangerous magic can be when misapplied. Magic should never be used without thinking." McGonagall sighed and shook her head.

Draco relaxed back into his chair, the wood creaking under him. It was the best sort of outcome he could have hoped for yet it still felt off somehow.

"I know, it's not ideal," McGonagall said, echoing his thoughts, "I would have her, and likely half the students here, seeing a counsellor of some kind if I could. My requests for funding to have all been rejected."

Draco frowned, "Rejected-"

"The Ministry has other priorities, I'm told. It seems they've learned nothing for the first war... or this one, I'm afraid." McGonagall said. "Now, tell me how you go about brewing your wolfsbane."

"Pardon?"

"Walk me through it, in detail," she instructed.

Feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden turn in the conversation, Draco began mechanically explaining his brewing procedure, taking his notebook from his bag to show her his calculations. She took it from him, pushing her glasses down again, apparently still listening to him and flipping through his notes at the same time.

"Severus taught you well," McGonagall said once he'd run out words, "He was your godfather, wasn't he?"

Draco nodded, "Not that it meant anything to me when my father named him."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"During the first war, Severus had gained a lot of trust and power with Tom- uh V-Voldemort."

"Call him Tom," McGonagall said with an amused smile, "Voldemort was a stupid name."

Draco grinned in relief, "Right. My father asked Severus to be my godfather to try and improve his standing with both him and Tom and use it to keep tabs on Severus at the same time... I suppose it was a way for Dumbledore to keep tabs on my father as well," Draco said thoughtfully.

McGonagall tapped his notebook thoughtfully, "In order to maintain the same window of degradation, how would you change your calculations to brew... four hours earlier."

Draco took a breath and hesitated as he realised where this was headed, "Is my detention is to brew the wolfsbane I would have brewed anyway?"

McGonagall tapped the notebook again, "Answer the question."

Draco blinked, "There are... there are a few children who take the potion. I narrowed it down to that time frame so there would be the least amount of potion possible for them to have to drink."

"The volume would increase by-?" McGonagall prompted flatly.

Draco went to protest again, took one look at the immovable expression on McGonagall's face and reluctantly answered, "twenty- thirty millilitres at the most."

"A swallow more then."

"Approximately."

McGonagall nodded and handed his book back, "I'm sure if they would be able to manage for just this one week. You can send along a letter if it worries you." She nodded to the clock hanging on the wall beside them, "You have a half an hour to start revising your ingredient measures."

"I'll need more than a half an hour," Draco said.

McGonagall picked up her tea and relaxed back into her chair, "You'll have plenty of time to finish after we collect Harry."