Author's Note: Written for the wonderfully delightful HeartofAspen who has given so much to this fandom. Thank you for all that you have done. I am so grateful that our paths crossed!

This story will have three parts, with each new chapter posted every few days.

Thank you to mcal for her alpha help and to LightofEvolution for betaing and designing the cover.

Professor Flitwick stood atop a stack of books on his desk for all to see.

"Your first examination of the year will be in two Mondays," the small wizard announced with his high-squeak voice.

From the last row of desks, Draco leaned back in his chair and groaned. Great. More examinations. Oh, the pleasures of being forced into another year of school.

He aimlessly dragged the feather end of his quill across the wooden desk, only partially listening as the Charms professor continued. Exams were hardly of concern. Sure, he wanted to maintain good marks, but that shouldn't be too hard. Draco had already learned all this material last year. Even if he hadn't, Charms wasn't difficult. He had mastered the Protean Charm early into sixth year when so many classmates were still struggling with it.

"And in order to better prepare you for the N.E.W.T., there will be both a theoretical and practical portion of the test."

The movement of his quill froze, his attention now fully alert.

Practical portion? Draco's vision flickered towards his hawthorn wand lying untouched on the edge of the desk. Since when did Flitwick include a practical portion to his examinations?

Class must have been dismissed because the surrounding students began to gather their belongings and fill the classroom with their collective chatter. Draco, in no rush to leave for their lunch hour, took his time as everyone else began to file out of the classroom. All of them, except for one other student.

Hair just as wild as ever, Hermione Granger was standing before Flitwick, no doubt asking him for a more comprehensive list of what content would be covered on the exam. As if she didn't have carefully scripted notes detailing everything Flitwick had discussed each class! It didn't matter that she hadn't been at Hogwarts last year. They all knew the damn witch would get perfect marks even if Flitwick gave her the test right now.

Somehow, Granger had become even more bookish in the few months since the end of the war. Without Potter and Weasley there to drag her into their endless antics, that was to be expected. It was like the first month of their first year all over again. Professors would barely start their question before her hand was already raised pin-straight into the air. From her chosen seat in the front centre of every class, it was hard to ignore.

And ignore her, Draco tried his best to do. Problem was, he was utterly failing at it.

Draco mindlessly flipped through the pages of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 as he waited for her to finish. Before long, he caught the faint sound of her thanking Flitwick and heading out of the classroom. She walked past, and Draco's eyes remained firmly cast downward, not lifting even the slightest to catch a glimpse of her moving form. But as much as he aimed to block out anything having to do with the witch, he was painfully aware of her eyes digging into his back as she left.

The echo of her footsteps faded into the distance, and once he deemed them far enough, Draco released his held breath and closed the textbook. He shoved aside all thoughts of Granger and approached Flitwick.

"Professor," Draco began, looking up at the wizard who had yet to move from his position atop the books, "I would like to speak with you about the upcoming examination."

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?"

"You see, I don't believe it fair that those of us who passed the similar examination last year be required to retake it," he said, keeping his tone flat and measured as to avoid any other emotions from becoming apparent. "It seems unnecessary to waste our time taking the test and your time grading it just because the Ministry refuses to provide us credit for last year's schooling."

Flitwick stepped down from the stack of books, meeting Draco's eyes on a more equal level. "I understand where you're coming from," he said, adjusting the frame of his glasses that had gone slightly askew. "But with all students required to retake the previous school year due to… extenuating circumstances… that also means that all examinations must be retaken as well."

Draco had to bite his tongue to withhold comment that Perfect Potter and Always-the-Sidekick Weasley were granted special permission to skip their final year at Hogwarts and enter directly into Auror training without taking their N.E.W.T.s.

"Besides," Flitwick continued, "as I recall, there were a few areas of improvement for your charmwork last year. While your written examinations were near perfect, you had quite the streak of errors on the actual spell execution during classroom practice. Don't think I don't remember the time you soaked Mr Boot with a jetstream of water instead of simply filling your goblet. You and I both know you're capable of much better spellwork."

The embarrassing incident from last February was hardly what he wanted to think about. And if the present situation didn't change soon, Draco was heading towards a similar disaster in just a couple weeks.

His mind worked quickly to find another solution.

"Perhaps if you granted me access to a few books in the Restricted Section and I had access to more advanced spellbooks, I could study more of the theoretical and improve my practical."

Flitwick promptly shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy, but you know perfectly well that you're banned from all Restricted Section books."

Ah, yes, a lovely little consequence the Headmistress had so kindly given him for his Death Eater days.

"I'm sure all you need is a bit more practice," Flitwick proceeded with an optimistic grin that only a teacher could manage. "Without other influencing pressures, I expect you'll be back up with the top marks."

"Don't count on it," Draco wanted to sneer but instead voiced a forced thanks.

On the way out, Draco scooped up the textbook from off his desk as well as his stupid, ruddy wand. Clearly he wasn't getting out of this exam nor gaining access to the Restricted Section. So just like every other day since September 1st, it was back to the bloody library.

...

With the full swing of the school year starting to take hold, more and more students were frequenting the library. Draco paid them no mind as he meticulously dissected every word on the currently opened page. Characteristics of wood. Different types of cores. Advantages and disadvantages of certain lengths. Yes, yes, he had read all this before. Were these authors incapable of providing anything of actual meaning to him?

The book slammed closed, and Draco hauled it back to the proper aisle he had visited more times than he could count. Thousands of books in the Hogwarts library, dozens of them on this topic, and yet not a single one had given much insight on what the solution was.

Selecting another inevitably unuseful book, Draco brought it to the table he had all but claimed permanent dibs on. He flipped to the index and dragged his finger down to the letter 'W' and then turned to the proper page. Just as expected, though, the chapter's contents were as basic as all the others. What he needed was something more in depth, not a simple overview for beginners.

Draco tilted back his head, resting it against the top of the chair, and released a slow, deep groan. He stayed there for a few seconds before pulling himself upright and shifting his vision to the roped-off section just a few aisles away. If only Draco could get his hands on the books in there, he was certain he'd find some sort of viable lead.

His entire summer had been spent doing research. Options in the Manor Library were limited after Voldemort had destroyed all books related to the subject in a burst of outrage when none of them had provided him with the information he sought, but any seemingly relevant book from Flourish and Blotts as well as the more questionable titles available at the bookshops on Knockturn Alley were now thoroughly annotated and laying at the bottom of Draco's trunk. They had formed the foundation of his understanding, but after the fifth or so book, additional knowledge had run dry. The facts became repetitive. Stale. Evidently, some aspects of the craft were reserved solely for the select few who studied wandlore.

If Draco had any hope for success, it was bound to be within the Restricted Section. It was there that Hogwarts kept some of the most valuable and rare books in all of Wizarding Britain. But of course, they couldn't let the evil former Death Eater touch those precious tomes, not even if they had nothing pertaining to the Dark Arts. No, they couldn't dare risk letting him close to those books on the off-chance he might single-handedly attempt to spark a Third Wizarding War. Cause that's what they all still thought of him, wasn't it?

Disparaged but no less determined, Draco went to return his focus to the book on the slim likelihood that he might actually discover something new. But that plan all went to shite when he caught a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye.

Of course she was there. She was likely the only person in the entire school who rivalled him in amount of time spent within those walls. Same time, same spot; the witch operated like clockwork. With a vast array of notes spread across her typical table, it was easy to conclude that she was already preparing for the upcoming Charms exam.

Well, Draco was also preparing — just not in the way one would conventionally assume.

Draco tried to maintain focus on the new book, but as was the trend every time she arrived, it was now useless. Admitting usual defeat, Draco closed the book and brought it to Madam Pince to check out. Not that he anticipated it would do much good. He'd already read about the fickle properties of Hawthorn wands at least twenty times.

Exiting the library and rounding a corner, Draco reached the Grand Staircases, but instead of waiting for the moving staircase that went down to the Slytherin dungeons, he took the path that led towards the North Tower.

It was moments like this that he wished the Room of Requirement hadn't been destroyed in the Final Battle. A secluded space that provided him with precisely what he needed would be ideal. But foolish longing was a waste. So without that as an option, an empty classroom on the sixth floor would suffice.

Not a single soul was around to see Draco as he creaked open the door and slipped inside the shadow-filled classroom. Instead of pulling out the recently checked out book, though, Draco retrieved his wand and a copy of The Standard Book of Spells.

Grade 1.

" Lumos," he called, but the tip of his wand remained unlit. "Lumos," he tried again, still to no avail. "I said, LUMOS! "

A brilliant white light blinded his vision, casting the entire room in a blanket of penetrating brightness. When it faded, black specks littered Draco's vision for several seconds before the wand adjusted the illumination to the proper size and intensity.

Draco hadn't expected much different. His wand hadn't cooperated in months.

His relationship with his wand had always been complicated, from the very first day he had chosen it at Ollivanders. Or rather, it had chosen him.

His mother had gotten to the shop first, picking out wands she thought fitting for her only child, until Draco finished at Madam Malkin's and joined her. It had been a shock when the two-toned Hawthorn wand turned out to be the one for him. He had nothing against the wood type; it was the core that had been a surprise. For generations, everyone in the Black and Malfoy family had had dragon heartstrings as their core. His father, his mother, his Aunt Bellatrix, all four grandparents. Naturally, all the ones his mother had pre-selected had had a dragon heartstring core as well. But apparently, he was destined for a different wand, one with a unicorn tail core.

Draco had argued with Ollivander, told him that the wand must have made a mistake. He was Draco Malfoy. With his name and his family, surely he was destined for a dragon. But Ollivander wouldn't hear it.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Malfoy, and there must be a reason this one selected you."

Draco found that hard to believe, but despite his initial protests, he quickly grew to love his wand. It didn't take long for him to develop a strong bond with it, as he recently learned was typical for wands with unicorn tail cores. But all that started to change during the summer before sixth year. The more he started tampering with the Dark Arts, the less cooperative his wand seemed to become.

At first, he hardly noticed. Minor delays and the occasional necessity to repeat the spell didn't seem of great significance. But after the incident on the Astronomy Tower and he unknowingly came into possession of the Elder Wand, his original one grew more and more temperamental, leading to more than a few spell mishaps last school year. It stopped being an issue when Draco had to start using his mother's wand after losing his own during the skirmish in the Manor's drawing room, yet the same problems remained even after Potter returned it to him at the conclusion of the war. In fact, they had gotten worse.

The truth was now undeniable. Draco's bond with his wand was lost; it no longer chose him.

He had briefly considered giving up and getting a new wand, but that proved difficult. Ollivanders was still closed due to necessary repairs from the damage done to it during the war, and Draco's probation due to Death Eater ties restricted him from travelling outside of Britain for the next five years. His mother had graciously offered that he continue to use her wand until they figured out how to inconspicuously get him a new one, but the truth of the matter was that Draco didn't want a new wand.

After the significance of his wand ownership had been so consequential to the conclusion of the war, everyone knew what his wand looked like. Stories about it had been plastered in the Daily Prophet and every other rag magazine. It would be obvious if Draco then returned that school year with something entirely different. With his pride already bruised enough, he didn't need any more attention drawn to him.

So far, he'd been able to avoid doing many spells by coercing his class partners to do the magic for them whenever the occasion called for it, but it appeared that tactic wouldn't save him much longer. If he couldn't find a way to rebond himself with his wand, he was just going to have to retrain it, starting with the very basics. Only then would he have any hope to pass this Charms exam and, more importantly, his N.E.W.T.s.

Draco didn't know how long he remained in that classroom, practising the most elementary of spells. Locking, unlocking, severing, mending. Even spells he had mastered years ago now felt like a strain. But slowly, the wand was starting to listen again. Sort of.

The sky had long ago turned onyx, but Draco practised on. Sleep and curfew were less important than this. He'd train through the night if that's what it took.

A small swell of pride bubbled in his chest as he watched a single sheet of parchment successfully stay afloat with his Levitation Charm. He hadn't been able to do that spell in months, and yet, tonight, he had finally remastered it. Perhaps things were finally starting to turn around.

Consumed by his celebration, Draco didn't hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late.

Draco rushed to shove his belongings into his bag as fast as possible before whoever was on patrol tonight had the chance to catch him out of his dorm so late. He tapped the top of his head with the tip of his wand and called for a Disillusionment Charm, but his natural pale skin remained unaltered.

"Come on," Draco begged his wand. "Listen to me!"

But nothing changed.

When the classroom door pushed open, Draco was still standing in the middle of the classroom, in clear sight for Hermione Granger to see.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before I caught you out of bed," she snapped, Head Girl badge proudly pinned to her robes. With an unamused scowl, she turned her head in every direction. "Alright, Malfoy, where is she?"

"Where is who?"

"Whatever witch you're up here with!"

Draco sneered, not appreciating her presumption. "I'm not up here with anyone."

But Granger, it appeared, refused to believe him. She moved through the room, peering behind bookcases and under tables, as though determined to catch him in a lie. It wasn't until she cast a Humano Revelio that came back with negative results that she stopped her search.

"Fine," she unwillingly accepted. By this point, her arms were firmly crossed against her chest. "Then what are you doing up here?"

"None of your business, Granger," he spat in response. The last thing he wanted was for her to know about his wand. "So if you'll just give me my detention, we can both be on our merry way."

Draco slung his bag over his shoulder and proceeded towards the door, but Granger flicked her wand and locked it.

"Actually, it is my business," she corrected. "McGonagall specifically told me to report to her if you are out of bed and provide the reason."

The bridge of Draco's nose wrinkled and his face contorted. "Can't trust the former Death Eater, I see."

She didn't argue otherwise — a fact that hurt more than it should have.

It didn't matter that Draco hadn't uttered that offensive word in over a year. No one notices what you don't say. But when Dumbledore had chastised Draco for using that word — for calling her that word — in one of his final breaths, it was like the seed of revelation had been planted. It took the rest of the events of that year for that seed to fully develop, but eventually, it did.

Draco knew now that what he had done was wrong, but no one cared. No one thought him capable of change, not even the witch whose opinion he inexplicably wanted to sway the most.

But clearly, it was a lost cause. She'd never see him as more than a Death Eater, just like everyone else.

"Tell you what," Draco said, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder and fighting past the pit that now weighed heavy in his gut. "Why don't you and I just consider this a warning and pretend this never happened? Avoid an unnecessary headache for both of us."

His shoulder intentionally bumped against hers as Draco marched towards the door. He pulled out his wand, praying it would cooperate and successfully unlock the door like it already had so many other times in practice that evening, but Draco never got that far. The firm grip of Granger's hand on the strap of his bag, pulling him back her way, made sure of that.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me why you're up here so late."

All it took was a flick of her wand and all the contents of Draco's bag removed themselves from within. It wasn't much. Just a few quills, some parchment, and the textbooks. With any luck, Granger wouldn't examine the books too closely.

He wasn't so lucky.

"Why do you have this?' she asked, forehead scrunched as she picked up his copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1. "Were you tutoring a first year up here?"

Draco yanked the book out of her hands. "Get your bushy hair out of my business."

He shoved it back into his bag, alongside the quills and parchment, but Granger got ahold of the second book before he did.

"Your Wand and You: A Comprehensive Guide to Wands for Beginners? What would you—"

The book was safely back in Draco's hands before she got to finish the question, but from the dawning expression on her face, it appeared he was too late.

"Your wand's no longer working properly, is it?"

Draco bared his teeth as he pressed a single finger into her chest. "I said, get out of my business."

With a sharp turn on his heels, Draco successfully unlocked the door and stormed out, hand clenched tightly around his erratic wand all the way back down to the dungeons.

As mentioned above as well, this story will have three parts, with each new chapter posted every few days. Hope you've enjoyed so far!