A/n: All credits to CallieSkye for being an excellent beta.

If you are rereading this, you may find subtle changes in this chapter. Nothing major, just emphasising the fact that this story is a Romione and Not a Dramione.

Edited version
Chapter 3: Memories

Draco pulled out the bottle of Firewhiskey and poured himself a generous drink. Drinking was not a normal part of his regular night-time routine, but this was one of those rare nights when he needed the extra help to calm his jittery nerves. Normally the thought of a pretty, curly-haired witch did the trick; ironically the very same person was the cause of his unease tonight.

The night was quiet and moonless, and he moved to the balcony of his tenth floor flat, the partly filled glass still in his hand. Looking out at the concrete jungle that lay before him, he suddenly longed for the vast open lawns and acres of forest that were visible from the Victorian windows of his room at the Manor.

The memories stirred up other images from his past that he preferred to forget. He gulped down the entire contents the glass to rid himself of the bitterness that clawed at his heart and went in for a refill.

It was about time he retired for the night. As he pulled off his turtleneck, a whiff of her lingering fragrance hit him, bringing his thoughts back to the girl who meant the world to him. A dull ache gnawed his insides as her tearstained face appeared before his eyes.

It had been years since they parted. Wasn't she done crying over him yet?

His glass was empty again, and in a rare display of anger, he threw it against the wall and shards of glass flew everywhere.

Seven years, seven fucking years...

That was how long it had taken him to get his life out of the stink hole Lucius had created for the Malfoys. He was barely out of Hogwarts when he was dragged into court the first time. And then numerous times post that. Initially for persecution in Dumbledore's murder case, and later, to stand witness to the atrocities committed by the maniacs who had flooded his home that year. He couldn't fathom what was worse, seeing hundreds tortured, murdered and raped in a place he used to call home, or reliving those horrors for the jury, over and over again.

Thanks to Potter he was acquitted of the attempt-to-murder charges, all of them – Katie, Ron and Dumbledore. The guilt remained. Saint Potter unfortunately couldn't help him there.

But it was then that he decided he wanted to pursue law- to give those like him a second chance: a chance to live again, to repent, and to make the right choice. If only fighting the brand of an Ex-Death Eater was that easy. The jibes he faced during his Law education made the verbal fights with the Gryffindors back at Hogwarts sound like playful banter. Loneliness wasn't new to him, but being treated like scum was sheer torture.

And then she came along.

A smile graced his lips unawares at the memory. Hermione started at University a year after him, and he saw her for the first time in the University library which had become a sanctum of sorts for him. She was the only one kind enough never to throw a rude comment at him, and that drew him to her. While most if not all the students felt it to be their birthright to mock and hex him in the corridors, Hermione never took part in it. He never heard a word from her, directly or in passing, against him, whereas, if he was being honest, she should have had the most to say. She, more than most, had all the right reasons to curse him to hell and back.

He spent the second year and a half of his third concentrating with all his might on his books, and a considerable amount of his free time staring at the curly-haired girl in the library. She was a loner like him, and although had a fair following of admirers, thanks to her War heroine status, preferred to keep to herself, always with at least four huge volumes open in front of her. Draco remembered watching her as she sat making notes referring to multiple books simultaneously. He remembered the way she used to furrow her brows and bite her lower lip in concentration. He remembered those times he saw her stare unseeing at the window while her eyes glazed with unshed tears before she angrily wiped them away and continued to read.

It was during his final six months at the end of the third year that something miraculous happened.

The new ministry was editing the age old laws pertaining to enslaved magical creatures and house-elves. As an under-trainee at the time, it was his job was to submit a paper on elf-enslavement and their working conditions. He was also required to submit suggestions to improve the same. However, along with the project brief, he was instructed to research the report with another student.

"To get a complete picture," he remembered being told by his professor, who at least had the decency to look a little sympathetic. Draco had only nodded in agreement, realising it for what it actually was. The label Best Student of the Year ensured that he got the opportunity to work on such an important piece, but the faculty was still worried about his ability to give an unbiased report. And that was where Hermione Granger came into the picture: a year junior to him but an exceptionally brilliant witch, the brains of the Golden Trio and champion of the weak and underprivileged.

Draco would always consider those six months the best of his life.

They worked, they argued, they debated and the most unexpected of friendships blossomed. And the best part was that, for reasons unknown to him, she came with a blank slate. How she managed it with a git like him, Draco had no clue. But she never brought up their past, his family or upbringing while they worked on their report.

When he argued that the elves loved being enslaved, she countered that it was years and years of subjugation that had caused them to accept the cruelty and consider it justified. There was never a single derogatory comment about the condition of his family's elves at the Manor. Never a snide remark or 'Remember Dobby whom your father tortured and your Aunt murdered?'

It was a refreshing change from the isolation and misery that his life had was a breath of fresh air and he marvelled at her wit, her heart; finally realising why Potter and Weasley clung on to her. Many months later, he finally found the courage to ask her how she had it her heart to give him a chance.

She smiled in the way he was now so familiar with: the smile that held a small hint of sadness behind those brown pools. "People change Draco, the good way and otherwise..."

Though the frequency of their meetings increased, it never went beyond the boundaries of the University walls. Both were aware that the Daily Prophet would consider their friendship a scoop bigger than the breaking up of the Weird Sisters Band. And a media frenzy was something neither of them fancied. So they met with their books, parchments, and quills within the Library's walls. Once Draco completed his education and took up his flat in London, they'd meet at his home, no one was any wiser.

The next year, she completed her degree, scoring the highest marks in a century. She secured a job in the Ministry, in the very same department as his.

To everyone they were good colleagues, a pair who worked well together. No one knew of the late night muggle movies at his flat or the laughter they shared, and certainly not of the occasional hugs. No one knew that he was allowed to apparate into her house, or that the wards were set to allow him entry anytime of day. Most importantly, he was the only one privy to her biggest secret, the one which even Potter himself was not aware of.

It happened one stormy night after a particularly soppy romantic movie. He had planned to tease her about her choice, but had instead found her in uncontrollable tears. She had needed nothing more than an embrace, one that he had intended to keep friendly despite what his heart truly desired, and she had broken down completely in his arms. With the rain lashing at the windows that night, Hermione had finally confessed to the guy who had always been their childhood nemesis about her childhood love – Ron Weasley. She confessed how she had always loved Ron, and how he had left her heartbroken and shattered.

Draco had pulled her in his arms and wiped her tears away. He kissed her for the first time that day, and and surprisingly, she had not pulled away. Maybe he'd had finally earned her trust, or perhaps she had been too tired to bear her grief alone, he couldn't say for sure.

He remembered wondering if it was simply because she needed someone and he had happened to be there. But so deprived was his heart and life that he had clung on it- she had reciprocated, and that was all that mattered.

They hadn't come out in the public about their relationship. Draco remembered the day when they sat having tea at her apartment. She had been working on a case while he read the Prophet, which had a huge article on Neville Longbottom's engagement to Luna Lovegood-

"A couple of your friends got engaged," he said.

"Yeah, I saw," she replied, still bent over a long parchment.

Draco wondered what she thought about their relationship. No one had the faintest clue, not even Harry or Ginny. He wondered if she felt insecure about him not making it public. He wondered if it made her doubt his commitment.

He'd walked up to her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly massaging away the knots in her muscles. Hermione gave a pleasant sigh and closed her eyes as she leant back in her chair. As he worked on her tired muscles, he wondered how to frame his concern in words.

"Hermione..."

"Hmm?"

"Do you ...I mean... Would you prefer if we told your friends about our relationship? " he asked tentatively.

"No."

"No?" he was surprised. The tiny seed of doubt buried deep in his heart raised its ugly head. Was she worried about her reputation if people knew she was involved with an Ex-Death Eater?

She opened her eyes and with a breathtaking smile, grasped his hand in hers. She then proceeded to guide them to the couch and took a seat close to him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"We'll tell everyone. But first, I want them to know the real Draco Malfoy. I want them to see the man you've become. I want them to see you for who have grown into. You have done it yourself and no one but you should get the credit for this change. Once they know that man, I'll come out as the lucky girl who gets him for her very own."

And at that moment Draco knew he couldn't possibly have been more blessed. He realised she was only avoiding the scenario where people would consider their relationship as an attempt by the Malfoys to improve their public image. He knew that he could love her with all his heart for his entire life and yet it would still be less than what she deserved.

A searing pain tore him from his musings and back into the uncomfortable present. A piece of shattered glass that had fallen on the table was now protruding from his right palm. Wincing in pain, he pulled it out and repaired the glass with his wand. Walking to the potions cabinet, he pulled out a tiny vial of Dittany and poured a drop on the open wound, causing it to sizzle and burn, almost cherishing the physical pain that dulled the one in his heart.

He wasn't ready to lose her. The thought itself was enough to drive him insane. There was no way he could let her go. And yet, he couldn't stop himself from worrying about a certain redhead who still had a crazy hold on her, no matter how much Hermione insisted otherwise.