The school year was coming to a close, and Nell knew that that meant she had been pulling longer hours than she normally did in Bangor. But she had made a point of coming home earlier tonight. She had stopped and gotten take away for dinner, because her cooking would likely result in the exact opposite of something relaxing. Without her magic to help her, she was miserable in the kitchen. And she didn’t think that it was fair to make the elves cook for them. Draco had been at work all day too, and this was simply easier. Take away was easier, and then she had Floo’d home.

Her blazer and slacks had gone in the hamper the moment she had gotten upstairs, and she had gone for something much more relaxing. It was nice outside, and she didn’t plan on leaving the castle for the rest of the evening. Pouring herself a glass of wine, Nell pulled the stack of mail that was left from yesterday towards her. She had put the food in the oven, it would hold until Draco got home, and then they could eat. She would wait for him, of course, there was little sense in bringing it home if she was going to eat without him.

She thought he had said something about going to see Hermione Potter today. And while she hadn’t been to the Project for anything other than Order meetings since it had opened, she thought that it was likely the kind of thing that Draco would want to get involved in. He had gone to the Meeting with her at the beginning of the month, and other than a few looks when they had walked in, and some jest from Harry before they left, she didn’t think that anyone really minded that he had been there at all. He belonged there. Or at least she thought so.

The Malfoys were different. They were pure, sure. But so was she. And that didn’t prevent someone from being a good person. Nell thought that Draco cared deeply, about more than people knew. He cared about those that he loved. He cared about the things that had happened decades ago. His role in them. The man that he had become. He cared about all of that, and she admired him. There was so much about him that she truly admired, which was rare. She didn’t admire a lot of people, but he was one of them.

Proving himself to be more than a name. More than what had been pinned on him by those that had come before. He was stronger than that. He was better than that. And she didn’t know if there were all that many people that couldn’t see that. It was hard to miss how genuine he was. The things that he did, he believed in. There wasn’t anything fake about him. He had been honest with her; he had told her about his father. About his mother. He had talked about that mark on his arm that he did his best to hide.

Nell didn’t mind the mark. It was a part of him. It made him who he was. And she knew that he was never perfect. Damage was inevitable. Child soldier. It was a description that they didn’t use enough. They had been adults. They had legally been grown. But they weren’t. They had been children. And now they were all trying to do better. Those same children that had fought a war, they were the ones that were still fighting it now. In different ways, against different evils. But it was the same war.

Flicking through the mail she set things aside in different piles. The heavy weight of the parchment near the bottom of the stack caught her attention. And as she read it, she couldn’t help but chuckle at what she was reading. Really? The ornate parchment was clearly an invitation, and she knew that it hadn’t come to her, but he had left it sitting on the counter with the rest of the mail. If he hadn’t wanted her to see it, she thought he would have taken it with him.

The blonde was reading it over a second time when she heard the fire roar to life in the living room and she set the parchment down to get another glass from the cabinet behind her. “Kitchen!”