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Chapter 14

"I understand that the Wizengamot has forgiven me. I got off easy. I know it. At least in comparison to my mum's five years and my dad's fifteen. But there are plenty of people out there who have not, and will not, ever forgive me, and I see it every time I pass someone on the street. I see it in their faces, and it is a constant reminder that I may never be forgiven. And that reminds me that I can't forgive myself. This-" Draco paused to remove his jacket and hold out his left arm to show her his Dark Mark, the one Hermione had noted earlier; the one she ignored just as easily as her own 'Mudblood' scar. "-will always remind me that I won't be forgiven.

"But, every now and again, I like to imagine a time that I could be. If I do enough good, maybe I will forgive myself. You at least tried to keep your family safe in a way that didn't hurt anyone but yourself. I tried to keep my family safe in any way that didn't hurt me. It was a foolish way of going about it, and I know I will regret it every day of my life, even if I figure out some way to live with myself. Or, Merlin forbid, even forgive myself."

"Is that why you seem so different?" Hermione asked. "Because you're trying to figure out a way to forgive yourself?"

"Is the fact that you're trying to punish yourself why you seem so different?" he retorted.

She didn't answer him. She didn't want to say 'yes', because his words were, in fact, spot on. Hermione was punishing herself, and she hadn't even realized it. But here comes Draco, and not even two days later he had not only noticed she was off, but called her out on what she was doing.

In her silence, he went on, "I think we're both punishing ourselves really." He took a sip of tea. "I almost didn't come back for school. I almost didn't owl McGonagall. When I did, however, she seemed on board. It took a day of waiting for her to consult the Minister on what he thought, even though the decision is ultimately up to her, but he agreed with the idea.

"A couple of days ago, the day after Christmas, I received a letter from McGonagall saying that she thought it wise if I came to school early, and for two reasons. One was that I should see if I'd be able to handle being at the school again; if I'd be able to face it after everything that happened. And the second was that you were here." Hermione tilted her head at him. She wasn't expecting that part. "She wrote, saying that if I could face the school, that was all well and good. But could I face you? Could I make nice and share the old school for a week without fighting you?

"She'll be "taking the piss", as it were, because I know better than to be rude to you, or try and fight you, ever again. I prefer my bollocks intact, thank you-" Hermione gave him a pointed look while feeling the muscles near her lips try and twitch into a smile. "- and I'm not so much of a perpetual imbecile to think that disrespecting you is wise. I have more respect for you than that." Hermione blinked at him, not sure how to handle all of this information, especially the last bit.

"I wasn't always aware that what I felt for you was respect," Draco said. "I was always so angry at you for being more capable than me, but that doesn't mean I didn't feel some… admiration. It wasn't until sixth year that I began to admit that to myself, and it wasn't until last year that I realised how much until one night I thought, 'Granger will figure this out. She and Potter always figure it out.' The school was a shite show, and there seemed no end to any of it. But when I would think of you and Potter and Weasley out there, still free and out there searching for an answer, knowing that you were our only hope, I knew then that respect was what I had for you. For all three of you, really. But my respect and admiration for you was strongest, and had come first."

Draco went quiet then. He looked away from her and back to his plate to continue eating, leaving Hermione to stare at him, dumbfounded and speechless. Her heart, at some point, had begun to race and beat against her chest like a war drum. Her mouth fell open some, and all she could do for a moment was gawk at him.

He admired her?

He respected her?

These concepts were ones she was used to everyone having for her but him, and now he was admitting that he felt this way for her for years? How was she supposed to accept such news? Anyone else would have probably shrugged it off, or told him 'thank you', or something else as droll, but to Hermione, it meant so much more. She sort of wished he'd let her know sooner than now, but she knew why he hadn't. If he'd sent her a letter from Tenarcha, she would have thought it some trick or desperate ploy.

But he'd had the courage to say all of these things to her face, and she had to tilt her head as she wondered where such courage had come from. He wasn't known for courage, and she was forced to feel amazed as she came to grips with how much he'd changed in the past seven months. She could only speculate what war had changed in him, and then add to that months in prison.

Who was this Draco Malfoy?

…Who was this Hermione Granger, to feel so moved by what he said?

That frustrating flush hit her chest once more, then her neck, and up to her face, and she took a deep, steadying breath as she looked back down to her plate to hide her blush.

A/N: More of the feels, and plenty more to come. Thank you for reading.