Draco stood on the driveway leading to Malfoy Manor. Hermione Granger was standing next to him, both were looking at the large stone manor house warily. She glanced up at him curiously.
"Draco, why are we here?"
He turned to her and reached for her hand. "We have been working together for almost two years. You have been my partner since I joined the Auror department. It took a while, but we finally reached a point where we were able to put aside our past. You admit you believe I have changed. But when I started asking you out six months ago, you just keep turning me down. I think deep down you still believe I am a prejudiced Pureblood who secretly finds you inferior and wants to eradicate the world of your impure blood."
Hermione pulled her hand from his and started to protest. But Draco cut her off.
"Now, now. I know you say you do not think that way about me anymore, but why else would you keep turning down my invitations to dinner? We are attracted to each other. We have similar interests, we are both passionate about our jobs. We have enjoyed each other's company at Potter's. We have spent go quite a few evenings at the pub with our colleagues. You are not dating anyone else. So what other conclusion should I draw?"
Hermione huffed. She looked back at Malfoy Manor for a moment.
"You still haven't told me why we are here."
Draco smirked. He knew that was as close to admitting he was right that his stubborn partner was likely to get.
"I know you have reason to dislike coming here. I rarely come here myself. But I am asking you to trust me. I want you to come inside. There is something I want to show you. Can you trust me for just a little while?" His eyes pleading with her to believe in him.
She searched his face, looking for some sign he was playing with her. But all she saw was his apprehension. And honesty. He was telling the truth, and it made him nervous. How odd. Draco never showed his emotions. And that was enough for her to take his hand and nod. "Okay, Draco. I can give you the benefit of the doubt. What do you want to show me?"
Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He started walking up the driveway, pulling her along with him. He opened the door and they stepped through into a massive foyer. Marble floors, creamy walls with what appeared to be several priceless paintings. There was a door on each side of room and a set of double doors at the far end. They walked toward the double doors and just before reaching them, Hermione realized there was actually a hallway that led off from the foyer at the back wall.
Draco turned to the left and started down the hallway. There were several doors along each side. Draco stopped at the last door on the right and pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his suit coat. He waved it several times, then pushed the door open. He preceded her through the doorway, never letting go of her hand.
Hermione looked around, quickly realizing where he had brought her. She started to back away, trying to pull her hand from his, but he held tight. "No, no, no. I can't be here. Let me go, Draco. I need to leave."
Draco quickly slid his arm around her back, pulling her to him. "Its okay. There is nothing here to harm you now. Trust me. Breathe, Hermione. Deep breaths."
She looked up at him accusingly. "Why? Why this room?"
"I need to explain something to you. I want you to understand, really understand, that I have changed. That you are why I changed. Can we sit down, please?" He led her to a sofa in the center of the room. After they were seated, he took both of her hands in his. He watched her face. Her eyes seemed to be glued to the rug in front of the fireplace.
Draco spoke quietly. "You are remembering the night you were brought here. I remember it too. That was the night everything changed for me. Do you remember seeing me that night? I was over there, in that corner?" He pointed to the corner to the right of the fireplace.
At her nod he continued. "When you were brought in here, I was dragged in as well. When my aunt started crucioing you, I tried to back away, wanting to escape. But I only managed to back myself into that corner. I wanted to look away, close my eyes, anything to not see what was happening in front of me. But I could not. I heard your screams. I watched her sit on you, saw the knife blade carve into your arm, watched the blood run down your pale flesh. And that is when I realized, there was no difference between you and I. Not really."
Draco stopped to take a deep breath, then continued. "Two days before you, Potter, and Weasley were found, the Dark Lord held a meeting here in this room. He had called his inner circle together to discuss their failure to locate the three of you. He could not understand how three teenagers could elude his best and brightest Death Eaters. He ordered my father to call me from my room to attend the meeting. When I came in, the Dark Lord asked me where a group of teenagers would hide. I had no idea what he was talking about. He asked me again where Potter might hide. But I still had no answer for him. How could I know where Potter might be? The Dark Lord did not like my not having the answers he was looking for. He Crucioed me. Right there on that same rug. Over and over and over again. I screamed until my voice gave out. I thrashed about and hit my head on the stone hearth. When he finished with me, I laid there watching the blood pool in front of my face. It was bright red. It soaked into the rug while I watched. Two days later, I watched your blood soaking into that rug. Just as red and pure looking as mine had been."
Hermione watched the emotions play across his face, not knowing what to say. Draco was never someone who showed emotion, much less discussed his feelings. He turned his head to look down at her.
"I had doubts about the things I had been taught since I met you in our first year at Hogwarts. I was told Muggles and Muggleborns were dirty and stupid. But in every class you beat me. Me, the purest of Purebloods. I have known magic since birth. I was taught to exercise my magic from my earliest memory. But a little Muggleborn girl, who knew nothing of magic before her eleventh birthday, out scored me every time! How could my parents beliefs be right? And if they were wrong about your intelligence, could they be wrong about the other things they believed? "
"After you three escaped and the Dark Lord returned to find you gone, he punished all of us. I was eventually sent to my room. I was locked in for several days with nothing to do but think. I was told to spend the time contemplating my failure. But all I could think of was your blood on that rug. And how it looked just like mine. I thought about how strong you were. You never broke while Aunt Bella tortured you. I had witnessed her torturing others, and they always broke in the end. I remembered all the classes we shared, and how no matter how much I studied I never out scored you. I thought about how you always stood up for what you believed to be right. How you supported your friends. And how my "friends" we're noticeably absent from my life. They had all abandoned me when the Dark Lord moved into my house. After three days of living in my own head, I came to the conclusion that my parents were wrong. Muggleborns may not come from magical families, but they had been gifted with magic regardless."
They were both quiet for several long minutes, before Hermione broke the silence. "Why have you not redecorated this room? I remember reading in Witch Weekly that your mother had extensive renovations done to the Manor after the war. But this room looks exactly the same."
"Mother wanted to tear this room apart and start from the ground up, but I would not let her. I wanted it kept the same. So I sealed it. I am the only one who can open this room now. This room reminds me of everything that was wrong before the war. The portraits on the walls of my Pureblood ancestors. The expensive furnishings that have belonged to my family for generations. The knick knacks that were gifted to them by people trying to impress them. But mostly, it reminds me how wrong we all were about our society. I look at that rug and remember the blood of a seventeen year old girl whose only crime was being born and wanting to live in the world I was raised in. I remember my own blood, identical to hers, soaking into that same rug. Spilled by a madman that claimed my pure blood was better than other witches and wizards but really he only cared about power. This room is where I grew up. Where I realized we are all the same, no matter our ancestors, no matter our blood. This is where I truly changed my mind about the teachings of my youth."
Hermione sat, watching him for a few minutes. He seemed to be completely absorbed in his own thoughts. She glanced down, noticing he was still holding her hands. She gave his hands a squeeze to draw his attention back to her. Hermione looked him in the eye and asked, "Draco, do you think we could have dinner tonight? There is a new Italian place that just opened in Diagon Alley. I heard the food is really good."
Draco smiled and stood up, holding out his hand. "I heard the same thing. Let's go find out."