The door's knocker looked so menacing, so convincingly like a Krait poised to strike, that Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres unconsciously paused before grabbing it and pounding the door three times. He turned to the assembled adults.

"It won't be as bad as the Headmistress thinks," Harry said.

Petunia and Michael exchanged worried glances on the doorstep of Malfoy Manor. As Muggles, Harry had told them they wouldn't normally be able to see Malfoy Manor, much less approach it. But the formal invitation in their hands, elegantly lettered and addressed, tamed the wards. Professor McGonagall had offered to join them; Harry had declined. Michael thought the house looked like the Haunted Mansion - black structures stacked hodge-podge on top of each other with no right angles between walls, the only rectangle being the main door and the only squares being a few windows. Petunia, looking at it, just shuddered.

Michael Evans-Verres smiled nervously. His son had matured over the last year, but his social skills still trailed behind other children.

After a second, Hermione spoke up. "Maybe they didn't hear. It's a big house."

Beside her, Leo Granger harrumphed slightly.

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," he said for the fourth time. Hermione kept her mouth shut and shifted her backpack nervously. Your parents are allowed to worry because you died. Things hadn't been awkward when she came back; her parents were too surprised and grateful. They'd gotten awkward later, after a few days. Then they'd noticed her teeth.

Harry reached for the knocker again as the door flew open. Everyone started to say hello, but only one person finished.

"Honored guests, come in! Come in!" said the small creature standing in front of them, dressed in what looked like a burlap sack. His large eyes beamed at the entourage; long ears flopped as he nodded enthusiastically.

Roberta recovered first. "We brought some wine...," she started to say but the creature's eyes, already cartoonish, grew wider and she lost her nerve.

"Brought wine! They dare ..." it hissed, then paused with a look of horror "Mustn't insult guests! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" The elf turned and pounded his face into the door frame with surprising force.

"What is that?" said Michael Evans-Verres, turning to the children. Hermione was trying to persuade the elf to stop in slightly frantic tones, when Harry answered.

"It's a house elf. We have them at Hogwarts, but I've never seen one act like this." He ignored a particularly sickening crunch as Dobby's head rebounded off the door frame. Harry heard Draco shouting "Dobby! Back to the kitchen!" and the elf disappeared with a whampf right before his head impacted the doorway. There was a sound of bowls crashing, followed by one bowl ringing as it rolled slowly to a stop.

Draco rushed out, smiling. "I'm sorry. Please, come in." Draco bowed low.

"Mum, Dad" said Harry. "This is Draco Malfoy. Draco, my parents Michael Evans-Verres and Petunia Verres-Evans." Michael shook hands with the boy, who stood slightly taller than Harry, and examined him. Draco had slicked back blonde hair a few brushes shy of perfection. He wore simple black robes and a slightly off-center cape, clasped with a silver snake. There were a few specks of dust on his cape, but the boy radiated calmness and poise more than any child he'd ever met.

Except Hermione Granger, Michael thought. Must be a magical thing.

"Are we early, Draco?" asked Petunia, shaking his hand. Michael glanced at his watch, 7:01pm.

"It's my fault" said Draco smoothly. "I didn't think to tell Harry about it. You're still on Hogwarts time, aren't you?"

"Isn't Hogwarts in the same time zone?" asked Roberta.

Muggles control zones of time? Draco thought to himself, horrified for a brief second before he realized it was just an expression.

"Trains" muttered Michael to Harry, who nodded.

Petunia looked at them and said "What do trains have to do with this?"

Trains, as Michael and Harry knew, led the impetus behind formalizing time. To be sure, ships had led the way, but travel by ship was measured in weeks, not days or hours. Before trains, every village and every town had its main clock with no coordination between towns required. Only with industrialization, with the need to precisely coordinate movement of items across vast distances, did people make agreements when noon (or a dinner party) should occur.

So it made sense that magicians, who had never industrialized, wouldn't have agreed on precise standards for time across multiple locations. No spells said "Start at 11:30," they all referred to noon, sunset, midnight, and other times with specific physical meanings. Actually, thought Harry, they probably do have agreements, but I've never had an exact appointment scheduled outside of Hogwarts.

"Draco, these are my parents the Doctors Leo and Roberta Granger. Mum, Dad, This is Draco Malfoy."

There was swishing of robes down the hallway as a young, smiling woman came forward. "Draco, do introduce me to your friends and their parents."

"Of course Mother." Introductions were made all around. Draco had warned Mother that there would be misunderstandings and to just assume any social blunder was made in ignorance instead of malice, so he didn't mention the gifts. But there were limits, so after handshakes were made, and Draco had accepted the various bottles of wine, deserts, and flowers and set them in the dining room table, he continued the conversation.

"We were just discussing, Mother, that Muggle time doesn't work exactly like our time." Roberta Granger glanced around the room and let out a soft moan as she saw a grandfather clock at 6:50.

"Lily never mentioned anything like this" said Petunia.

"Oh yes, Draco said you are Lily's sister." Narcissa said, offering seats to everyone. "I must admit I don't see the resemblance. You are lovely, like she was, but in a different way…. Lily reminded me of spring, but you seem more like a northern summer." Draco slowly released his breath. Mother would be fine. Father had always said Mother possessed a natural social grace; but he'd been worried for the first few weeks. Narcissa's prior awkwardness had been the pain of discovering her baby grown and husband dead. Now Draco felt confident that Mother would ever-so-gently steer the conversation towards common ground. She'd already mentioned a mutual acquaintance with Harry's mother although Merlin knew how she'd find anything in common with Hermione's parents.

As Dobby and the other elves brought out the food, Narcissa put the empty wine goblet down. "This is surprisingly good wine, Roberta" And there it is, thought Draco.

"Why, thank you. I don't have much experience, but the sommelier recommended it..."

"Do wizards use magic to make wine?" asked Harry. "I know we can't transfigure it, but is there anything in Herbology about helping grapes grow?"

"Why can't you Transfigure it?" whispered Leo quietly.

"All Herbology lessons dealt with magical plants, but that could just mean it isn't taught at schools." Narcissa said, reflecting on what she knew about Muggles. "It wouldn't be an appropriate subject for children, though."

"It will change back later after you drink it, Dad" whispered Hermione.

"Well, then in that case," said Harry's father, "Muggle wine is probably, on average, about as good as Wizard wine. And since there are so many more Muggle wine makers..."

"Dad, wizards could enchant the soil and tightly control the environment, not even considering..."

Leo blanched "So even simple magic is dangerous?"

"Do many Muggles make wine?" asked Narcissa.

"I don't think that many do," said Roberta, "but Hermione says there just aren't that many wizards and witches."

"Harry, even if you assume that the average wizard wine is better, the sample space and standard deviation practically ensures that the best wines will be ours." said Michael.

"Dad," Hermione whispered, "Transfiguration the most complicated magic. Can we talk about this later?"

"It's true," said Draco, "the Muggle world is surprising. Muggles aren't like plays depict them." His London excursions confirmed that. Did Harry set this up. Is he investigating mother's beliefs, to see if she's ... reformed? It would make sense. Mother had married a prominent Death Eater, after all.

"Ours?" Harry raised an eyebrow. He'd practiced for a year before he could just raise one. "You sound like a football fan. It's not a competition." Petunia glared at the men in her family, to no avail.

"You can imagine why we worry, Hermione..." Leo said as everyone took their seats.

Michael, who had shown Harry literature on sports fan psychology, ignored the barb. "I agree. That's why I'm pointing out trade opportunities. Both worlds' standards of living could rise dramatically..."

"Of course I've thought of that, but we have to ease into it. Remember Dobby?"

"This is a lovely plate of food, Narcissa," said Petunia warily.

"Yes, Mother, the lamb chop looks delicious." Draco piped in cheerily as he cut a small piece off, trying to force all the conversations back to a single topic. Draco didn't particularly care for lamb, but he'd seen it on menus posted outside high end muggle restaurants, so he'd suggested it instead of the Dragon Tartare Father served. All things considered, this is going well.

Wine, Time Zones, amusing differences in etiquette, and other conversation topics flowed with the wine. Narcissa's offer to show Malfoy Manor was, of course, politely accepted and so the parents were gone when the house elves started removing the plates and cleaning up.

"Draco, can I ask Dobby some questions?" asked Hermione. A look of horror crossed Dobby's face but he continued picking up dishes, each one disappearing with a small poof as he grabbed it.

"Of course," said Draco. "Dobby," he said firmly. Dobby sighed and turned around.

"Dobby would be happy to answer," he said morosely. He stood waiting.

"Why did you hurt yourself, Dobby?" she asked.

"Dobby must be punished! For insulting guests!" Dobby looked confused.

"Who made that rule?"

"Dobby … Dobby doesn't know. It's always been that rule."

"Hermione, they are house elves" said Draco. "It's what they do. They enjoy it." Harry shot Draco a look. "Oh come on, they do. I've only ever heard Dobby complain about one thing."

"Dobby never complains, young master! Oooh, bad Dobby!" Dobby rushed towards a table leg. Draco snapped his fingers.

"Dobby, stop." Draco's voice was calm. "Tell them your complaint. It's fine."

Dobby, eyes downcast, shrank into himself, then flashed an apologetic look to Draco. "Dobby likes Young Master and Mistress. But Old Master, when Mistress was gone … Old Master ..." Dobby sputtered, looked longingly at the table leg, then lowered his voice to a hiss, "... forbade us ..." Dobby sobbed a few breaths, "from cleaning Mistresses Room!"

"It's ok, Dobby. Things are better. The room is nice and clean now, isn't it."

Dobby, sniffing, wiped his noise on his sleeve. "Oh yes, Master!" Draco waved his hand back to the table and Dobby, with a quick bow, went back to removing the silverware.

"There. You see?" said Draco.

Even Harry smiled. "Whoever made them was evil, but ..." he shrugged. "They seem happy." He turned to Draco, "She was going on about liberating House Elves all summer."

Draco smiled. "First Azkaban. Then … Kitchens Everywhere!" Hermione frowned.

"S.P.H.E.W. – The Society for the Protection of House Elf Workers?" said the Boy-Who-Lived and Draco started laughing.

"It's not funny" she fumed. Draco kept laughing. She shook her head, hair flowing perfectly back and forth "I thought we were here to discuss lesson plans." Draco's chuckling slowed. Harry wiped his eye. Hermione reach into her backpack and pulled eight lengthy scrolls and some loose papers which she passed to Draco. "These scrolls are my notes." She glared at Harry. "If you have anything to add..."

Draco took them carefully, setting some on the clean table to get the rest. "The papers aren't yours, Harry?" Draco knew Muggles preferred loose paper to scrolls.

"Professor Quirrel's lesson plan for first years" said Harry quietly. "They found them in his things." Draco gasped, while Harry continued. "It's not a spellbook. It's just notes on what he thought was appropriate for first years, which spells to teach, which lessons to teach after typical mistakes, rough drafts of speeches. It won't make sense to anyone who hasn't had the course, these aren't notes, more like …. reminders." And Voldemort practicing thinking like David Monroe pretending to be Quirrell.

"Wow. He had notes for each year?" Harry nodded as Draco glanced through the papers.

Draco reluctantly set the notes aside. He'd read later, when there were no guests. "I don't know why you need me for this." He looked at Harry, but it was Hermione who spoke up.

"There's an awful lot of stories going around. Awful rumours. It's going to be awkward for everyone. I wasn't around but I know you worked quite hard. After I..." Hermione couldn't make eye contact. "We were all Generals, fair and square. You deserve this is much as we do."

"More," said Harry.

Draco nodded. "I'll look at your notes later and send an owl with thoughts." There was no rush, it was only July. After a pause he asked "Can a Patronus find someone hidden?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so."

Harry continued "That makes sense, otherwise Aurors could always track people down." He paused, "Now that you mention it, I wonder how they find people who want to be found..." he trailed off, lost in thought. "Typically people tell them where to look..."

"Who are you looking for?" Hermione asked. Harry was barely paying attention. Draco shrugged.

"Snape." He paused for a second, but when there was no question he continued. "Harry and I are … reforming Slytherin." Hermione's eyes widened.

Harry, eyes still closed, quietly said "He'd approve, but he won't come back."

Draco nodded. "This is a bad time. So many of us lost parents. I know most of the families, but I don't know them well. Without Father … there's going to be a power struggle. Struggles. Not just adults. And I ..." he shrugged. "I could use the information he has. He'd know who was sympathetic. He'd know when I'd be wasting my time."

It's not fair to say this conversation caused a war to stir inside of Hermione. But it caused a small skirmish. By now she'd recovered and asked "What about Professor Slughorn?"

Draco shook his head. "Outside the school, yes. Inside? He knows less than I do. By all accounts he's fairly aloof, except for his favorites. He may know more about the families, but he hasn't even met most of the students."

Harry opened his eyes. "I'll try to send a message to Snape. I can take out advertisements but I don't think..." he trailed off as the adults came galoomphing down the stairs. Narcissa was staring at him and she said "Oh, Draco ..."

and Harry felt the dagger in his head, no fire, pain, just a careful opening of his thoughts and memories. My son is my heart … the dagger paused briefly … Allies? Allies! … now moving again … I want to see if you can learn the Patronus Charm …. thoughts flashed quickly as Harry set defenses around his private life My hand wasn't working … Harry realized that he didn't need to shield everything, Narcissa wasn't looking for details about Harry, except as they related to Draco … does the rest of that matter, my son? No, father. …. Dumbledore burned her to death. As quickly and quietly as it entered, the knife left

"...could you please have Dobby bring desserts? I assume you kids want some as well" said Narcissa, smiling at them all.

Harry Potter piped up "Yes, please!" sounding like a normal eleven year old boy for the first time all evening.

Author's note (5/5) – Thank you all for the kind words, but here and on reddit.

Update (5/6) - Typo update, and I had some confused writing (I'll blame last minute edits). I've updated Narcissa's comment on wine and Draco's thoughts starting with "It's true."