He sat at the table and tried his best to pretend he was listening to his father, who was lecturing him, again, on how to act when he returned for his seventh year of Hogwarts. "Now is not the time to act as if there's any hostility between you and Potter. You need to be civil towards him and his little red headed friend. They'll be looking for someone to blame, and you must appear completely innocent."
She was sitting just behind his father, laughing and mouthing out his words with a mock stern expression. He tried to make his face smooth but he could feel the laugher bubbling up inside him.
"Draco, are you even listening to me?"
Draco replied that he was, of course. But he never listened, not anymore.
He was putting on his Muggle clothes in front of the mirror. "Do I look the part?" he asked her, turning from the mirror to face her. She was sitting on his bed.
"A bit too well," she replied.
"I'll change the minute I'm on the train," he said, his tone defensive. "I hate being dressed like a Muggle. I always change as soon as I can."
She nodded, looking down, and he wished he hadn't said anything, it was just instinct.
"This year will be different than any of the others," he said after a moment and turned back to the mirror, fixing the collar of his shirt.
"I know," she said heavily.
"Are you okay?" he asked as they saw her two best friends. The ignored her completely and he knew how much it hurt her.
"Not too long ago, you wouldn't have cared. You'd want me to be this sad," she told him gently smiling, no harshness in her tone.
"Things change," he said. "People change."
"They do, don't they?" she replied, her eyes glued on Potter and Weasley, as they walked straight past her.
"How long are you going to keep ignoring it?" she insisted at him. "Time is running out, Draco. Your father keeps putting demands on you, and you don't have any choices anymore. You have to go to Dumbledore. You have to!" They were in his room in the Slytherin dungeon, and she had tears in her eyes. "You're not like your father. Not anymore. You have to live your own life, and stop living his."
"It's easier said than done," he argued back feebly.
"I never said it'd be easy. I never said it wouldn't be hard. To turn your back on everything you've been born to believe in will be the biggest thing you'll ever have to do, but it'll be the best. If you don't…I don't know what's going to happen to you. You just have to go to Dumbledore."
"But I can't do it without you," he said, facing her with honesty.
"I know. That's why I'm here."
She smiled at him all the way through Dumbledore's meeting but was otherwise silent. Dumbledore had called Potter and Weasley there as well, but she gave them as much attention as they gave her, i.e. none. Her eyes were firmly on Draco, her smiles just for him.
"He's done everything in his power to make our lives more difficult," Ron shouted. "How can we really trust him?"
"People change," Dumbledore said gently. "People change. They explore, they grow, they learn and they discover. You do not understand the sacrifices Mr Malfoy will be bestowing upon himself, and the dangers. But we need support, and I believe his person would add to our side considerably and honourably."
"What if he's a spy?" Harry hissed.
"He's not," Dumbledore replied. "I've been watching Mr Malfoy with interest for a long, long time."
"I'm so proud of you," she said to Draco, once they were alone. "I knew you could do it."
"I'd never have been able to do it without you." He was looking at her earnestly.
"I know," she said with a smile, but her face was full of sadness.
"Where are we going?" he asked, following her through the hallway and outside.
"There's one more thing we have to do," she said. She was silent for the rest of the way; the night was still and the air cool. The sky was covered in a blanket of stars and he looked up at them, smiling and happy.
"What's this?" he asked, when he saw where they were. There was a newly planted tree on the ground, and a little plaque beside it.
"I'm so proud of you, Draco, and I forgive you. All you have to do now is forgive yourself."
It was a memorial place for people to come. There were flowers all around it. The plague was shinning gold and it read: Hermione Granger, loved by many and missed by all.
"Hermione?" he turned, but she wasn't there.
He stood there for a long time, staring down at the flowers, and realised she never had been.