Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for the plot of this story.


Chapter One

What I Know About Draco Malfoy

June 13, 2000

I see the look of surprise on his face before it's immediately replaced by nonchalance. He gives me a curt nod.

"Granger," he says politely.

"Malfoy," I say flatly, hiding my own surprise.

Draco Malfoy enters the lift followed by several memos. He moves to stand beside me when the grilles close but keeps a decent distance between us.

I learned after the War that he and his family defected. Articles have been published about the Malfoys' true allegiance. A lot of people thought they did it to save their own hides. That's why for the past two years, they've been met by the public with scorn. I read somewhere that a restaurant manager refused to have Narcissa Malfoy and her son dine at the place. Rita Skeeter was all over it. I'm not sure if I still hate Malfoy but I sure loathe that woman.

People believed what they wanted to believe. So they had different beliefs of who the Malfoys really were. As for me, I went to Hogwarts with Malfoy for six years. And in those years, he spent his time bullying students, calling me filthy and Mudblood.

Harry also told me how Narcissa Malfoy saved him when she claimed he was alive at the Forbidden Forest. And even in the end, Malfoy couldn't really kill Professor Dumbledore at the Astronomy Tower. When we were caught by Snatchers and brought to the Manor in the months before the Battle at Hogwarts, he hesitated about Harry's identity. Ron and I were with Harry. I'm pretty sure he knew exactly that it was Harry.

"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee," the female voice announces.

When the doors open, I am forced to move closer to the back wall of the lift to accommodate two men. Both are in deep conversation about an accident involving an underage muggleborn wizard who set his neighbor's head on fire.

Malfoy stays where he is. As the lift moves down, I can't help but look at the back of his head. His white-blond hair is as neat and sleek as ever. He must have noticed me staring because he turns his head slightly and looks at me. I meet his piercing eyes for a second before I look away.

What I know about Malfoy is he's a bully and was a Death Eater. But he was also young. He was brought up to believe that those with blood less pure than his were beneath him. He was surrounded by people who believed the same thing.

When we finally reach the Atrium, Malfoy manages to get out before me. When I walk out, he's already on his way to one of the fireplaces.

-o-

September 22, 2000

It's late and it looks like everyone else has gone home. I learned from Ron the day I first saw Malfoy at the Ministry that he's the newest Auror. Almost every day, we get off work at the same time. So I'm not surprised when I open the door to the hallway and see him also on his way to the lifts. We exchange nods, walk side by side but at a safe distance. He lets me get in the lift first like a gentleman. We never talk.

As to why he became an Auror is a puzzle to me. It makes sense that he'd work at the Ministry. His father used to work here after all. But times have changed. It wasn't like they were still revered for their wealth and status. Being supporters of Voldemort isn't a secret anymore either. So what I have on my hands are theories. This could all be an act. For Malfoy to be working on catching bad guys is a big, fat irony. To attain some form of redemption for the Malfoy name by doing this would be a believable explanation. But to be doing this out of pure kindness is highly unlikely.

"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."

I notice him lean at the side wall of the lift. Maybe he thinks he can relax since there are no other people besides us. Thinking he can relax around me is presumptuous on his part. I can feel his eyes on me then. For some reason, the hairs at the back of my neck stand up. I prove him wrong when I look straight back.Grey.It's the first time I notice that his eyes are grey.

One thing I've observed in the three months since Malfoy has worked here is he's stopped calling me filthy and Mudblood. We work in different divisions but we see quite a lot of each other being both in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. When we're in the lifts, he keeps to himself. I've never seen him talk to any of his co-workers in public. It's not like he tries to be invisible. People notice him, give him second glances. I get those too – looks of awe, respect, admiration. But I don't receive glares, contemptuous looks, judgment. I expect him to look down at his shoes to avoid such disapproving eyes. After all, he's a coward. Back in third year when Buckbeak attacked him, he cried like one. He used to hide a lot behind his father's cloak. Now he's as exposed as ever. Instead of down, he keeps his head held high and looks straight ahead.

"Level five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."

"So," Malfoy starts. "Why do you go home so late?"

For a second, I thought he isn't talking to me. We never talk. I am struck then when I realize that he has this look of uncertainty. Perhaps he's not as presumptuous as I thought.

"Oh, I just – there's this new law that I'm trying to pass." I try to explain. Maybe I stutter because we don't really exchange words… just insults. The uncertainty I saw earlier is replaced by something else – relief? No, I guess not presumptuous.

"Yeah? What is it about?" he asks in genuine curiosity.

This is getting weirder by the second. First he goes out of his way to start a conversation. Next he doesn't leave it at that but even gives a follow-up question. This is beyond polite for him.

"Something to do with how house-elves should have rights of their own."

Maybe that'll rile him up. I'm reminded of our second year when Harry freed Dobby and how enraged Lucius Malfoy was. House-elves were possessions, proof of their standing in society. Dobby.

"Starting up spew again?" he says with a smirk.

This catches me off guard. I imagined him to lose that control, glower, and contend me on this or at least give me a glare and stop talking to me altogether. But he gives me something as familiar as a smirk, something he used to direct at me other than a look of pure loathing. Except… there's a hint of humor in his voice. Is he teasing me?

"It's S.P.E.W." I say quite indignantly.

I just couldn't stop myself. This is probably what he wanted. Now that I think about it, maybe he expected an entirely different treatment from me. In his mind, I could have easily been one of those people who gave him looks laced with detest. For all I know, I'm being as polite to him as he is to me. This is all unfamiliar ground between us.

I hear a soft chuckle from him. And I'm surprised yet again by how his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners when he does this. Before I know it, the grilles are opening and we're already at the Atrium.

"See you around, Granger." He leaves me there gaping at his retreating figure, wondering…