Author's Note - I just wanted to express, from the bottom of my heart, just how much I appreciate all of your kind words, comments, and messages. Every time I get a comment or message notification, I get so nervous. But you all continue to make it worth it. I realize I am absolutely terrible at replying, mostly because I'm just shy and worried I'll scare people off. But I will try better. Thank you for continuing to indulge this incredibly effective mode of procrastination.

On another note, I don't feel much need to reply publicly to negative comments about the direction in which a story is heading because, well, it's my story and If you don't like it, there's hundreds of thousands of other ones out there... Except to say, there will be plenty of fluff coming, plus a good deal of angst. But, it is a happily ever after story. I swear, I'm not trying to be salty. I just want people to have realistic expectations. So, yeah.

Anyway, enjoy. :)

Chapter 34: If Anyone, It's Her

Saturday, April 10

Draco

"Draco." Someone was shoving his shoulder. "Draco. Mate, wake up."

Draco's eyes snapped open, and he sit up straight in bed. "What?" he asked, trying to steady his heartbeat.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You were out cold."

Draco rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. 1:58.

"What is it?"

Theo tossed him zip up hoodie that was laying on his desk chair.

"It's Granger. We found her at the end of the corridor. She's… pretty upset."

"In the Slytherin corridor?" he asked groggily.

Theo nodded.

"I think she was looking for the entrance but got lost. I left her with Gloria. They're waiting for us."

Draco pulled on the hoodie and slipped on some shoes.

What was Granger doing in the Slytherin corridor? He thought she was in Australia.

They exited and Draco looked around. The strawberry blonde Hufflepuff was sitting next to Granger, who had her head in her hands, clearly shaking with sobs.

"Why didn't you just bring her in?" Draco asked, annoyed. The castle was deadly silent and Granger's sniffles and Gloria's (he assumed drunken) soothing seemed as loud as cannons.

"She wouldn't come in. She didn't want to bother you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Bloody Gryffindors."

He approached Granger and knelt next to her. "Granger? What's wrong?"

She peeked up at him from her arms and underneath her hair.

She looked fucking awful. His chest contracted momentarily. It hadn't gone well, then.

He heard a clang down the hall. Probably Filch. Or Peeves, which meant Filch eventually.

"Granger?" he tucked some hair from behind her ear and she gave a loud sniff. "Come inside. It's late. I don't want you to get in trouble. Please? Let me take care of you."

She nodded and he helped her up.

Theo rolled his eyes and towed Gloria through the entrance, giggling.

Right. No more bed for him.

He led her over to the most secluded area in the common room, in the corner next to one of the fireplaces. Though it wasn't like there was anyone awake from whom they'd need privacy. She sat down on the sofa and leaned her head against the back.

"Sorry," she croaked.

He sat down next to her.

"Ginny is off with Harry… and Ron and I aren't really …" She hiccupped. "Well, I didn't want to be alone."

"It's alright." He didn't bother asking if she wanted to talk about whatever had happened. She would if she wanted to.

She stared off to where the windows to the lake were. He sat there silently, listening to her shuddering breaths steady themselves.

"He said he didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive me," she said in a whisper. "That he'd never be able to look at me the same. How asked if I thought I could ever trust someone again… if I was in his shoes."

Shit.

He didn't know what to say, so he just put his hand on her knee. He tried to remember the last time someone had cried in front of him. He didn't think he could.

He poured her a glass of water from the side table. She clutched it and stared off into the distance.

"I knew this would happen. I knew I wasn't that special. Ron lost Fred. Harry lost… well practically everyone outside of the Weasleys he considered family. I had started to actually believe I'd get out unscathed. How wonderfully naïve of me." She slammed the glass on the table and he thought he heard it crack.

He tried to pry her fist open to see if it was cut

"I've been telling them. I've been telling them all. It was too easy. They couldn't believe I thought what we've gone through was easy. Fred. Lupin. Tonks. Moody. Dumbledore. Sirius. They all said that must have been enough of a price, that I should move on. That I was a buzzkill for expecting the worst. Well, here we are. The other shoe just dropped. Maybe I'll find it in myself to be smug about being right after all."

He'd never seen Granger like this. He'd seen her angry before. He'd seen her sad. But this was just defeat mixed with deadly Slytherin-level scorn.

"Did you tell them about everything? Everything… you'd hidden," he asked. He didn't have enough courage to ask if she'd told them more about him and his family. He suspected his mother didn't remember that when he'd met her over Christmas. But he was sure she definitely suspected there was more to the story.

If she'd known, she wouldn't have been kind to him, he knew that.

She sighed. "Yes. That just made it worse. Mum was horrified. She just wept. Dad said I took the most important thing from him. That being a parent is about protecting your child. He said he almost wished he didn't remember now." She threw her face into her hands. "He couldn't understand why I'd want to be a part of a society like this. One that doesn't even recognize me as a full person. One that I have to kill for." She sobbed. "But even if I left, I don't think I'd ever belong there either."

His chest did the clenching thing again. He wanted to shake her and convince her she'd always belong.

He reached out and grabbed her and she planted her face into his hoodie, fisting the fabric and wrecking dry heavy sobs. Draco didn't know what to do. He had no experience with being unwanted by people he loved. Plenty of people hated him. But he only truly cared about a select few.

"Do you think he'll come around? Your mother just needed some time, after all."

Granger shook her head. "Even if he did, I don't think it would ever be the same."

"Sorry," he whispered and kissed the top of her head.

"And now mum will probably be angry too. I left so abruptly. But I just couldn't bear being in their house anymore. So, I apparated to the Ministry and yelled at them until they gave me an emergency portkey. And. Well, here I am."

"I don't really know what to say," he said quietly, stroking her hair.

"As long as you don't try to promise me it'll all be okay."

"I won't."

"I know. Because you know that it doesn't always work out. I think you know that better than most."

Draco didn't say anything because she was right.

She was quiet for a long time. "Harry has forgiven and been forgiven so many times that I think he thinks it's just a natural part of the anger process. Half the people he loves, he's hated or sworn off at some point. Sirius. Snape. Dumbledore. Ron sometimes. He even forgave Pettigrew. It's his greatest strength. But I just couldn't bear to be around it tonight."

Draco hummed in agreement, or something.

He was pretty sure she was done crying. After a while, her breath returned to normal. She relaxed a bit in his arms. She unfurled her fists and began stroking his chest over his hoodie.

One of her thumbs accidentally grazed his bare chest. She stilled for a moment, and then did it again deliberately, eventually moving her fingers to dust over his collarbones. He tried to keep his breath steady.

She shifted slightly and before he knew it, she'd lightly placed a kiss on his chest. She did it again and again and again. Her lips were soft and warm, and it was setting him on fire.

He should stop her.

"Granger—" he blurted out as she moved her mouth to his neck. It came out as a croak. He threw his head back against the back of the couch.

She hummed softly and continued, sliding down the zipper on his hoodie ever so slightly.

"I… I don't think this is really what you w—"

She jerked up and glared at him. "Don't tell me what I do and don't want." Her eyes were determined and fiery.

He opened his mouth and she dared him with her eyes, slipping a whole hand under his hoodie and trailing her nails lightly down his sternum.

He tried to remember why he was trying to stop this.

"Don't worry, Draco," she breathed against his ear. "I'm not going to do anything I'll regret. I just like kissing you. It's the only thing that turns my brain off."

She kissed his jaw.

He nodded and he could feel her smile on his cheek.

He pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. He kissed her slowly and lazily, savoring the way she tasted and felt. He ran his hands up her back and sides and she divested him of his hoodie. The feel of her fingers on his bare skin was like a drug, like the purest oxygen he'd ever breathed. He didn't know how he'd gone so long without it.

They ended up lying next to each other on the couch. He rubbed her hip bone with his thumb, and she traced his sectumsempra scar.

"He felt terrible about it, you know," she said quietly.

Draco nodded. "It's fine. I was going to crucio him. It wouldn't have hurt much, but the intent was there."

She hummed sadly.

The windows had slowly turned from pitch black to a deep emerald green.

"I should go," she said.

"You should sleep," he replied.

She sat up. "I'll sleep better in my own bed."

He studied her.

"Really, Draco, I'll be fine. I feel better. I'm still… Well, I'll survive. Thank you. You helped."

"Okay, if you're sure."

She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Come find me in the library after lunch."

"Okay, Granger." He stood up to walk her out.

She glanced around and sighed in resignation. "Well, I suppose this place isn't quite as creepy as Ron and Harry said.

He rolled his eyes and playfully shoved her through the door.

Draco was no longer tired. He lay on the couch for a while, just thinking. He felt odd. Granger was so miserable. He should be too, right? But he just felt… hopeful?

He honestly had never expected to be happy in a relationship. Even when he was younger, it wasn't something he ever expected for himself. He thought he'd be lucky to end up with someone intelligent and interesting with whom he could at least be friends. Maybe they'd develop some miniscule amount of affection for each other eventually. They'd have a child. That would be it.

But Granger made him imagine other futures. Suddenly, he was imagining all kinds of things he'd never considered before. And he felt hopeful.

She should be the one feeling hopeful.

He was just lucky to be alive and free. He had very little right to prosper.

But Granger had the right to have everything.

So, he spent the next two hours penning a letter.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,

My name is Draco Malfoy. I am a friend of Hermione's from school. I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Granger in Australia over Christmas. I write to you today with regret, humility, and desperation.

Hermione is absolutely devastated by how her decision to modify your memories has affected your relationship. I realize that it is none of my business, but as someone who cares about her, I feel I must try to shed some light on some things.

I'm not aware how much she has told you about our relationship prior to this year. We have never been friends until this year. In fact, I think it's safe to say we've each considered each other enemies.

I come from an old wealthy wizarding family. As a child, I was subjected to strict anti-muggle rhetoric. I was told they were lesser, disgusting, and a danger to our way of life. Muggle born witches and wizards were quite possibly worse. They were power hungry thieves. I didn't encounter a muggle until I was 10 years old. My father's hatred and distrust of everything non-magical was resolute. Similar sentiments were shared by the majority of adults I encountered for the majority of my childhood.

The Dark Lord was obsessed with blood purity, power, and elimination of his opposition. His followers were power hungry and ruthless. I would know because I was one of them.

When I entered Hogwarts, I was desperate to impress my father. His plans for me included top marks, captain of the Quidditch Team, head boy, and a reputation that would attract an upstanding yet bland pureblood wife and career opportunities before it would be time for me to take over the business of our family estate. He would accept nothing less than perfection – something I could not deliver despite all efforts. I lived to please him. Where I couldn't deliver in his expectations, I made up for it by doing my best to be equally ruthless in my torment of anyone I knew on whom he looked down.

I was immeasurably cruel to Hermione and her friends. I tormented other students for being "blood traitors," pure blooded families that are opposed to blood superiority. I heckled other students from coming from less fortunate families. I publicly disobeyed and humiliated professors and authority figures from marginalized communities. I plotted against Hermione and her friends and sold their secrets to the media. I called her unforgiveable names and did my best to humiliate and bully her any public setting.

After the Dark Lord regained his power after our Fourth Year, my family was put under much scrutiny. My father had been one of the Dark Lord's most faithful followers the first time around. It was no different the second time around. He served as the political eyes and ears for the Dark Lord, spying on the government and influencing policy. The father of my girlfriend at the time was tasked with slave and sex trafficking efforts of muggles and captured members of the order. My best friend's father oversaw military strategy. He executed several plans which resulted in the mass murder of muggles across Britain. My aunt was broken out of prison where she was serving a life sentence for torturing some Order of the Phoenix members into insanity.

I know all of this because I was privy to it. I heard about their current plans and past "successes" at dinner parties and tea since I was a young boy. I heard about it at meetings when I joined. I was told they were to what I should aspire. At the end of our Fifth Year, Hermione and her friends entered the Minsitry of Magic to save Harry Potter's godfather. It was a trap, and my father and several others attempted to kill them all. They nearly succeeded.

After that, my father was thrown into prison and I was forced to take his place among the ranks of the Dark Lord. I was tasked with killing the Hogwarts headmaster, arguably one of the greatest wizards to ever live. I do not believe I was meant to survive. I was meant as a long-term torture tactic for my father. My death would have destroyed my mother who had largely tried to stay out of the Dark Lord's world. Her breakdown would have destroyed my father. I did not succeed but did manage to nearly kill two other students in the process. Additionally, I smuggled the Dark Lord's most brutal followers into the school. It's a miracle no students were killed.

Afterwards, I was trained as a soldier. I was trained to cruelly torture and coldly murder. I never had to do the latter. In the former, however, I became quite proficient. We hosted the Dark Lord in our home, where meetings were held. I witnessed unspeakable things. We held people prisoner. Muggles and resistance members were tortured and killed in front of my eyes. Hermione and her friends were kidnapped and brought to our house. Hermione was tortured by my deranged aunt on the drawing room floor where my mother used to entertain guests. She wears the scar to this day.

I honestly can't pinpoint when I realized blood status didn't matter. I didn't fight back. I wanted to stay in the good graces of my father and protect my mother. I wanted to live. It's a miracle I escaped.

I don't share this so that you'll excuse any behavior or feel sorry for me. I don't expect any forgiveness, nor do I deserve any. If anything, I expect these words will ensure I never get any. I do so in the hope that you might understand that these people are, by and large, not open to new ideas or reform. There is no convincing one of these people to have a change of heart.

Simply put - you could not have protected her from what she's gone through. Though I don't harbor very much, if any, prejudice against muggles, your law enforcement could never have appropriately hidden and protected you. I doubt even the resistance could have done so properly. We knew about many of their safehouses. We could have taken them if we wanted. It would have involved many casualties and incredible effort on our part. Many people simply owe their lives today due to the Dark Lord's followers' laziness.

I would not be surprised if you'd cast this letter aside by now. If you are still reading, this is the point of the letter: She made the right choice.

The Dark Lord absolutely would have used you as bait to capture, torture, and ultimately murder her. He planned to. In August, after it was clear she'd run off with Potter, the Dark Lord ordered a full assault on your family home. They interrogated the people at your dental clinic. They went through your finances and checked the places you'd vacationed. Someone was almost always posted near your house in case any of you came back. Had they captured you, they would have tortured you brutally in order to break her. She would have come for you. She would have gladly traded her life for yours. They would have then tortured her for information and fun in front of you before violently and mercilessly murdering all of you. You could not have protected her from any of it.

What she did was one of the most selfless things I've ever heard about. She's told me about you. About gardening and the vacations you've taken her on. About reading the paper and breakfast on Saturday mornings. How you took her to the library and protected her from bullies when she was younger. She loves you fiercely and the decision she made will haunt her every day for the rest of her life.

I cannot imagine your grief, betrayal, and anger. If someone modified my memories, I don't think I could ever forgive them. But if anyone deserves forgiveness, it's her. I have no right to ask, but I hope you'll consider at least trying.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

Draco read the letter over. It brought up things he hadn't felt in a long time.

He folded it up before he could change his mind and went to his room to grab a coat for the journey up to the owlry.

Theo was snoring, his arm draped around Gloria who had her head on his chest. They looked so blissfully content.

He pictured he and Granger in the same position. Idyllically sleeping and enjoying life. Perhaps far away from Hogwarts on one of the holidays they'd talked about. Sitting around the Christmas tree, opening presents and eating candy. Holding hands and laughing carelessly like they had up on the astronomy tower.

He looked at the letter. The letter he hoped would exonerate her in her parents' eyes. The letter that would absolutely ensure he never got to experience any of those things. That isn't a partner you wish for your child.

Surely her father would forgive her. The man she'd told him about loved her so deeply. They just needed time.

So, he shoved the letter in the back of a desk drawer and went for a run.

If he ran for long enough, maybe he could outrun the guilt.

A/N: Well, it wouldn't be a dramione fic without a bit of self-chastising ill-advised melodrama from our blondie, now would it?