Once Harry had calmed down, and been told a bit about the Order of the Phoenix, they were back to cleaning. And the hearing. On the very morning of it, none of them were up early enough, none of the children anyway. Harry was taken into the ministry by Mr Weasley, who was going to work, and Mrs Weasley, Tonks, Sirius and Lupin had all been up to wish him good luck. The others received the good news later, and Ginny, Fred and George invented a little chant to serenade the diners eating lunch – "He got off, he got off, he got off..."

"SHUT UP!" Mrs Weasley roared.

*

On the Death Eater side of the spectrum at Malfoy Manor, the mood was almost as mysterious as at Grimmauld Place. Draco's father returned home from work every day at past ten in the evening, and his mother was seen to snooze in her favourite winged armchair in the sitting room, too exhausted even to retire to bed. A copy of Witch Weekly hadn't been seen in Narcissa Malfoy's hands for a week, and Lucius Malfoy, when at home, was never out of his study; either communicating with someone via Floo powder, or reading the Daily Prophet cover to cover, only ever missing out the finance page, which had been the only page he would glue his eyes to for years.

To an outsider, this wouldn't seem like anything out of the ordinary, but to Draco, he knew something was definitely wrong. Never in his life had Lucius Malfoy read all of the Daily Prophet, and never had Narcissa Malfoy ever sunk far enough to actually fall asleep in the sitting room, where any of the house elves could see her! He found himself indefinitely missing Hermione, which was strange for him, and occasionally was found moping round the house; an activity which Draco Malfoy had never occupied his time with, and surprised his father.

"Can't you find something to do?" Lucius once snapped.

"No," Draco snapped back. "You and Mother are acting strange, the house elves are never to be seen and there's nobody here while I'm here! I may be an only child, but you seem to want me to somehow conjure up a friend to play with!"

"It would improve your casting," his father muttered darkly. "What with being beaten by a Mudblood."

The reminder of Hermione flared his temper; the fact that she wasn't here with him, that she was off having fun while he was stuck in a hellish place, with the devil that was his father. And Draco had begun to detest the name 'Mudblood.' His rage bubbled into a volcano of anger and hurt.

"JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE ALL YOUR DEATH EATER FRIENDS AND VOLDEMORT TO PALLY WITH, DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD ABANDON ME IN THE PROCESS! I'M YOUR SON! HE MURDERS PEOPLE!"

Lucius was frozen with shock. Then he strode forwards and slapped Draco right across the face.

"Lucius!" His wife Narcissa stood in the doorway. She hastened forwards and took Draco's face in her hands, turning it this way and that to see if there was a mark.

"There's going to be a bruise," she told her son. "Quite a large one, I expect." She turned back to her husband. "I can't believe you," she said furiously. "He's right; you're wrong. We're abandoning our son because you," she poked a finger at him, "are gallivanting off with your mates, hoping to reap some reward that you won't get because you're too scared to serve Him!"

Lucius looked coldly at her. "I will be praised for my loyalty!" He announced lordly. "And the mothers are the ones who are supposed to look after the children!" And with that, he took off, slamming the doors behind him.

Draco ran from the room, and Narcissa, though more slowly, followed. She ascended the main staircase, careful not to let the stairs creak, and knocked quietly on Draco's door. There was a quickly muffled sniff, as though he had just paused in his crying, and Narcissa pushed open the door. She closed it behind her and kneeled by Draco, who had flung himself on the four-poster; tears streaking his face.

"Does he hate me?" He sobbed.

Narcissa took his hand. "No," she said softly. "But Lucius wants praise, and he doesn't often get it."

Draco laughed shortly. "Tell that to Arthur Weasley. 'Doesn't often get praise'? He gets praise all the time – from the minister, his colleagues, his fellow Death Eater; don't look at me like that! He does! I'm sure Mr Weasley would love to be in his shoes, except – wait – he's not stupid enough to run off with Voldemort!"

Narcissa looked troubled. "Who have you been spending time with?" She demanded.

"No-one," Draco said quickly, too quickly.

"Don't lie to me, Draco!" Dangerously. Draco made to avert his eyes, but too late – "Legilimens!"

His first thoughts weren't obtrusively revealing: speaking with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy, being interviewed by Rita Skeeter, lying on the grass with Her_ Narcissa was a forceful Legilimens, crashing through his memories: Hermione seemed to be coming to the surface. All their library talks, helping Hermione, everything.

"Argh!" He yelled in pain as Narcissa wrenched herself free from his thoughts. For a moment, his mother's face wavered in the distance, confused, and then the black came rushing in.