Chapter Text
Hogwarts letters arrived mid-August, the envelopes unusually fat. There were explanations inside about the delay of start of term until the first of October, and the option Headmistress McGonagall was extending to all students to re-take the previous year's coursework, along with a form to be filled out and sent back indicating what level and what classes each student would be taking, if they were taking a year off and what level they'd be taking upon their return, or, in the case of the past year's seventh years electing not to return, which testing session they'd like to sit their make-up N.E.W.T.s.
Sitting next to Harry in the kitchen while Ginny, Hermione, and Draco filled out their return forms, Ron gave Hermione an incredulous look. “Why are you, of all people, going back? Actually, no, nevermind, I know you, you're going back for exactly the same reason you don't have to go back.” He sighed and turned his incredulity on Draco. “Why are you going back?”
“I don't know.” Draco shrugged. “Seems like I ought to go, get a proper finish to my schooling because last year was bullshit.”
“You do know that he was in the top ten of our class until sixth year, don't you?” Hermione said. “Even then he only dropped down to top twenty.”
“...Really?” Harry asked with more surprise than was good for Draco's ego.
“Yes, really.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I didn't do much but Quiddich and studying until my life's work was suddenly making up for my father's failings. Unlike you, I wasn't busy finding ways to break every school rule under the pretense of saving the world.”
“Huh,” Ginny said, sounding bored, “you're not stupid. Who knew?”
Draco glared at her. She didn't look up from her form.
Within a week of sending in their forms, the three returning students received their supply lists. Remus went with them to Diagon Ally, since he had his own shopping to do in preparation for returning to his teaching post, and Sirius tagged along because he could.
As they walked along Diagon Ally, Sirius stretched and laced his fingers under his ponytail. “I love shopping.”
“You love being out of the house,” Remus corrected.
“Well, yes,” Sirius said like it was obvious. “Over a decade of incarceration will do that to a person.”
Remus shrugged and eyed a couple old gossiping biddies who were eyeing Sirius and his ponytail from over by a produce cart. Hermione and Draco shared a glance. Ginny hooked her thumbs in her beltloops. “Hey, Lupin, what do you need to shop for?”
“Books for my own classes, notebooks for lesson planning, quills, ink—”
“Clothes,” Sirius added. Remus glared at him. “What? Are you that protective of your carefully cultivated status as the most homeless looking teacher Hogwarts has ever had?”
Remus took a breath. “Okay, and clothes.”
“Let's start with books, though,” Hermione suggested, stepping forward to lead the group to Flourish and Blotts, half hidden as it was behind scaffolding for repairs like many of the shops on the street. The rest were either still run down from the trauma of the last year, or gleamed with fresh paint, new windows and signs.
Inside, the bookshop was the same as it always had been, which was a comfort. It wasn't as busy as it usually was the last week of August, but there were students milling about with their parents, buying school books, older witches perusing volumes on handicrafts and cooking, a few young children tucked into the kids' corner to giggle at the moving pictures of storybooks.
Hermione, Ginny, and Draco rounded up their schoolbooks. Draco briefly had a book on the top of his stack with a markedly stationary cover illustration, which Hermione craned to peer at, but Remus came over to drop copies of The Art and Theory of Defensive and Protective Magic on each of their piles. “If the three of you don't get top marks in my class, I'm giving you all detention for inexcusable laziness.”
He walked away, his own stack of books floating along behind him, leashed to the tip of his wand with a barely visible shimmer in the air. Hermione and Draco exchanged glances. She shrugged. “He has a point.”
Ginny crossed her arms. “At this point the lot of us ought to be excused.”
“She also has a point,” Draco said. Hermione shrugged again and grabbed another book. When they went to pay, Sirius had a thick tome under one arm, emblazoned with the title Household Maintenance and Magic. Remus arched an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.
Once they were out of the bookshop, Sirius dragged Remus across the street to Madam Malkin's. Ginny jerked her head the other direction. “Let's go to the twins' place.”
No one objected. Fred and George's shop was much busier than Flourish and Blotts and loud with chatter and laughter. Seamus was at the counter, cashiering. He glanced up at the sound of the door chime. “Oh, hey, Hermione, Ginny,” he paused, “Malfoy.”
“Ginny!” Fred and George called from the mezanine.
“Hermione!” George added as they both hopped the railing.
“And ferret boy,” Fred concluded as they landed.
“Am I going to be defined by ninety seconds of my life when I was fourteen for the rest of my life?” Draco asked irritably.
“Yes,” the twins said together.
Fred threw an arm across Draco's shoulders. “But don't worry, there's plenty of other things we can call you, you unripe turnip.”
“Prince of prats,” George said.
“Salu-dick-torian,” Fred snickered.
“Angry dandelion.”
“A-melanistic malcontent.”
“Poorly socialized Pomeranian.”
“Mini-Moony.”
“Bleached wheat.”
“Her Majesty's corgi.”
“Aristocratic arse.”
“Hermione's punching bag,” Ginny suggested.
“That's true,” Fred said approvingly. “Which reminds me, what was it you called him, Hermione? A vile little cockroach?”
“Alright, alright, point made,” Draco grumbled.
“We can keep going,” George offered cordially.
“Don't,” Draco said firmly and shoved Fred's arm off
“Okay,” Fred agreed reluctantly, letting Draco go. “George, don't we have some things set aside for these fine young scholars?”
“I do believe we do, Fred.”
Ginny grinned wickedly as George went to grab something from under the counter. He came back holding three purple velvet drawing bags, each about the size of a quaffle. Ginny gleefully snatched one bag from her brother. “I love you.”
“We know,” the twins said fondly, Fred ruffling his sister's hair.
“One for you,” George said, handing a bag to Draco. “Prove yourself,” he instructed, then held the last bag out to Hermione, “And one for you.”
Hermione held up her hands to refuse the bag. “I shouldn't—I'm a prefect.”
“So am I,” Draco pointed out, tugging his bag open to investigate the contents.
“It's all safe,” George assured her. “Tested everything ourselves—except for the stuff we tested on Mal-formed this summer—and none of it's against the rules.”
“Yet,” Fred corrected.
“Right, none of it's against the rules yet,” George amended. Hermione eyed the two of them skeptically. George shrugged. “Just take the bag. You don't have to use the stuff, give it away if you want to.”
“But I think we can all agree Hogwarts could use some fun,” Fred said. “Now more than ever.”
Hermione bit her lip and took the bag.
“Neville here?” Ginny asked.
“Just missed him,” George said.
“He worked this morning,” Fred elaborated, “but he's having lunch with his Gran or something.”
George nodded. “And, as you can see, Seamus is busy.”
“We should be busy too,” Fred admitted, “but we own the place so we can faff off without getting yelled at.”
“Maybe we should let you work,” Hermione said.
“Sadly, yes,” George sighed.
“Come around for dinner,” Ginny said as the little group turned to leave. “Mum's making chicken pot pie.”
“Ohh, yes,” Both twins chorussed.
The three students stood outside Madam Malkin's to wait and went through their velvet grab bags as they did. Draco rattled a small jar of shiny black rock-sugar-like lumps. “Isn't this that crap that had me coughing up smoke?”
Hermione frowned at it. “I think so.”
“I should hide it in people's food,” Ginny said thoughtfully.
Hermione looked at her. “Do you think, just maybe, that's not the sort of thing you should tell to prefects?”
“I know you,” Ginny said. “You won't turn me in, just privately shame me, more out of a sense of duty than anything else. And Malfoy doesn't care.”
“I really don't,” Draco confirmed.
Hermione sighed, shook her head, and plucked something from her bag to examine—it was a ball about the size of an apple, with a sticker smacked on it proudly proclaiming that it would never stop bouncing, complete with a tiny illustration of the same ball boinging endlessly off the edges of the sticker.
The door to Madam Malkin's opened with a tinkle of bells as Remus and Sirius stepped out, Sirius carrying both their bookstore bags, Remus with a single bag from the shop they'd just left.
“Got some new clothes?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, a few,” Remus said, sounding satisfied.
“He's a nightmare to shop for,” Sirius grumbled. “He got about half an outfit. When we're done in Diagon Ally I'm dragging his sorry arse to a muggle clothing shop.”
Ginny snickered behind her hand while Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione said, “Honestly, robes are so fussy, I can hardly blame you.”
“Exactly,” Remus said. He crossed his arms. “Proper robes have been declining in popularity for years already, nowadays most people only wear them as formal wear, and I'm just not that formal.”
“Hence why I'm dragging you to a muggle shop,” Sirius concluded. He nodded to the purple velvet sack in Ginny's hands. “I see you swung by the twins' place.”
“They gave us free stuff,” Ginny said brightly.
“With which to wreak havoc,” Hermione griped. “Nevermind that two of the three of us are prefects and supposed to be enforcing the rules.” She glared at Draco.
He shrugged. “They said none of it's against the rules yet. And with Potter not coming back to school you and I are probably going to be the most thorough rule breakers at Hogwarts this year. Stop acting so high and mighty.”
Hermione took a breath to respond but Remus put an arm around her shoulders. “Hermione,” he said gently, “from one prefect to another, and as your teacher, let me try one more time to impress upon you that a little well-meaning havoc is good for the soul. Really thought you'd have learned that by now.”
She sighed. Ginny grinned and punched Hermione's arm. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let's just keep shopping.”
She slipped out from Remus's arm and strode off toward the apothecary, ignoring Ginny and Sirius laughing behind her. The apothecary was a small shop, lined with whitewashed shelves and glass-fronted cabinets—some of them locked—all of them crowded with jars and vials, bundles and boxes of all sorts of potion ingredients. The clerk was leaning boredly on the counter next to the till when Hermione and the others came in and he barely glanced up at the soft clanking of the glass chimes rigged to the door. The matronly owner called a distracted, “Welcome!” from the stock room.
Hermione waved through the stock room door to the owner and she, Ginny, and Draco set about collecting ingredients to replenish the basic cache of supplies they each needed for the upcoming year's worth of potion classes. Meanwhile, Remus gathered wolfsbane potion ingredients and Sirius sniffed things. The kids bought their things, then Remus lay his on the counter to pay. The clerk eyed Remus's collection of ingredients and raised an eyebrow. “This all for one thing?” he asked carefully as he counted and weighed.
“Yes,” Remus answered.
“'Cause I can only think of one thing you make with all this,” the clerk sneered, waving a bundle of dried wolfsbane flowers.
Remus leveled an unimpressed look at the clerk. “I only know of one, but I'm pretty sure you could also make poison considering how much of this is toxic.”
“What you need wolfsbane potion for, huh, mate?” the clerk asked accusatorially.
“You get one guess,” Remus responded sharply. “Now, are you going to let me pay or not?”
The owner appeared from the back room to investigate the sudden sounds of hostilty. “What's the matter in here?”
“He's a werewolf,” the clerk said, gesturing at Remus.
“Does he have money?” the owner asked.
“Yes,” Remus said, holding up and jangling his coin purse.
“Then I don't care.” She shouldered the clerk aside and started tallying. “I swear, boy, you haven't got an ounce of business sense. It doesn't matter who walks in here, even if they're a lepper—you put on some gloves and take their money. That's twelve galleons and seven sickles, sir.”
Remus dropped the coins on the counter, took his things, and walked out of the shop without a word. Sirius and the kids followed. Out in the street, Remus took a slow breath. Sirius rubbed his shoulder. Remus glanced over at the kids; Ginny looked angry, Hermione looked stunned, and Draco looked like he might be sick. Remus shrugged Sirius off and gave Draco's shoulder a squeeze.
“Did that just fucking happen?” Ginny demanded.
“That was nothing,” Remus said. “It happens.”
“I don't think I've ever actually seen something like that in real life,” Hermione breathed.
“Yes, you have,” Sirius said. “You're muggleborn and we literally just had an entire war over your right to exist.”
“That's different!” Hermione objected.
“Not really.” Remus gave Draco a gentle push. “What's our next stop?”
At the stationary shop they hit next, Draco stood quietly in the corner while the girls and Remus shopped. Sirius sidled up next to him. “You look extra pale since the apothecary.”
“I'm fine,” Draco said without looking away from the spot he was staring at on the wall.
“Bullshit,” Sirius said. “Do yourself a favor, talk to Remus at some point about people being shitty making you feel shitty.”
“I said I'm fine.” Draco looked up to glower at Sirius.
“And I said that's bullshit.” Sirius shrugged. “Are you really that stubborn of a liar or do you somehow not feel as nauseous as you look?”
Draco huffed and resumed staring at the wall. Sirius eyed him then went to snoop at what Remus was buying. “He's insisting he's fine, isn't he?” Remus asked quietly.
“Yup.” Sirius flipped through a planning book Remus was contemplating.
Remus sighed. “I'll talk to him later.”
“Good luck with that.”
By the time they left the stationary shop, Draco at least no longer looked like he was going to puke any moment. Sirius pulled the elastic out of his hair and redid his ponytail, which had slipped down over the course of the day. “So,” he asked, “any more stops before I make Moony buy himself some goddamn trousers?”
“I need new gloves for quidditch,” Ginny said. “The pair I had up and vanished.”
“Sure you didn't just turn them invisible?” Draco asked flatly.
“No, actually, I think your auntie stole them,” Ginny replied quickly, steering the group toward Quality Quidditch Supplies.
Draco rolled his eyes.
In the sport shop, Ginny went straight for the gloves, trying on different pairs to find one she liked. Draco idly browsed through goggles for matches in inclement weather. Hermione wandered up to a glass display case to investigate the broomstick inside. It was sleek and made of a blond wood banded with dark grain and tail twigs so dark they looked black. “That's pretty.”
“That's a damn nice broom,” Sirius said appreciatively as he stepped up beside her. “What brand is that?”
“According to the sign,” Remus said helpfully, “it's a Hellhimmel Blitzgewitter.”
Draco came over, frowning. “I have never heard of that.”
“Sounds German,” Sirius said. “Or it would if Remus could pronounce German worth shit.” Remus shoved his shoulder and Sirius grinned.
“Might be a new company,” Hermione offered. “Or one that's only just started exporting to the U.K.”
Ginny slipped around Sirius, gloves in hand, to see what the fuss was about. “Oh, that's a sexy broom.”
“Shame that not even a broom like this could improve your game,” Draco said snidely.
“Oh, shut up,” Ginny sneered. “I'm a better seeker than you and you know it.”
Draco held up his palms. “Our win history disagrees.”
“Our win history has us evenly matched.” Ginny crossed her arms. “That's with you having the best equipment Daddy can buy and me with second hand everything. If we were on even footing, I'd wipe the floor with you.”
“Are you really trying blame your mediocracy on inanimate objects?” Draco scoffed. “That's pathetic.”
“If you're only on par with me with much better equipment than me, I'd say you're the mediocre one,” Ginny challenged.
“You wish,” Draco said. “I'm better and I'll prove it.” He unclipped his coin purse from under his jacket and waved down a clerk. “Excuse me.”
“What are you doing?” Ginny asked warily.
“I'd like to buy two of these,” Draco said to the clerk with a gesture at the Blitzgewitter.
“Malfoy, don't you dare,” Ginny warned.
The clerk glanced at her briefly but kept her attention on Draco. “Two of them will be nine-hundred and twenty galleons, is that alright?”
“Absolutely,” Draco said brightly. “If you'd wrap those up for us.”
“Of course, sir,” the clerk said with a little curtsy then scurried off to the back.
“You do not have that much money on you,” Ginny said scathingly.
Draco arched an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”
Ginny ran a hand through her hair and looked to Hermione. “Help me!”
Hermione shook her head. “I'm staying out of this.”
Ginny looked to Remus and Sirius. Sirius started laughing. Remus shook his head. “I'm sorry, Ginny,” he chuckled, “but I might want to watch this play out on the quidditch pitch.”
“I hate all of you,” Ginny grumbled.