Thinking back on his day as he headed for his study, Draco could only sigh again. He and his mother had been required to go to the Ministry that morning to sign the documents memorializing their pardon and to obtain their wands from Auror custody. As they had been led to a room in the bowels of the Ministry by a stone-faced security wizard, Draco had been convinced that it was a trick. That they had never intended to pardon them but were instead leading them to a courtroom, or to Azkaban. It wasn't until his signature and seal were on the pardon and his wand was back in his hand for the first time in months (thanks to Potter's poaching) that he believed any of it was real. This realization was only solidified when he, Narcissa, and a large contingent of Ministry officials took a portkey to Wiltshire later that same morning to begin deconstructing the blood wards on the Manor, allowing Ministry access. The entire, draining process had taken most of the rest of the day. His mother, bless her, had stood behind him through the long hours with a hand on his shoulder, a steady source of comfort and energy. Once completed, he had hardly had the energy for what had followed. Namely, his mother's flight from England. She had left for France almost the moment the wards had dropped.