I hugged my friend and dragged Malfoy down to evidence. I tried not to glare at Melissa as she opened a room for us and brought the necessary items. It wasn't her fault Ron was a bastard.

We had a witness besides ourselves oversee the use of the spell to determine that the cruciatas curse was indeed performed and done so without interference. The necessary documentation was recorded, the owl sent to Azkaban, and we were free to leave.

It had been an exhausting day, but it was far from over. Malfoy had promised an explanation and I wasn't going to let him get out of it.

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck nervously. "Meet me at mine in half an hour? I just want to change into some sweats after the day we've had."

"Sure, I'll do the same and meet you there."

I went home briefly and swapped my dress slacks and fancy shirt for a pair of yoga pants and a comfy jumper. Malfoy and I had gotten rather comfortable with each other at this point and I didn't mind him seeing me dressed down.

Even though we lived rather close, we had our floos connected in case of emergency. Or in case of going over to the other's place at nine o'clock at night in frigid temperatures.

Malfoy was just setting out plates in the sitting room when I stepped into his flat. It wasn't anything fancy or grand like I would expect from a Malfoy, but I had come to realize that he really was different from his past self. It was an ordinary, though well furnished, two-bedroom flat much like my own. I didn't have much time to think about that because a minute later the doorbell rang with the pizza.

"Good timing." He had changed into some lounge pants and a white t-shirt.

"Thanks for the pizza."

We both took a slice and I nearly moaned at the first bite. Lunch had been nonexistent today and I was famished. It was a few minutes of us sitting there in comfortable silence as we chewed before Malfoy spoke.

"I suppose you have some questions about today."

I put my plate down. "You really don't have to share anything, Malfoy. That was an incredibly personal story and I'm sure it took a lot out of you to share it. You don't owe me an explanation."

He took several deep breaths. "You're right. I don't owe anyone an explanation. However, I find myself wanting to be completely honest with you. It's been a weight on my shoulders for some time and it feels right to let you in."

"Alright then. I'm here to listen. No judgements."

"I appreciate that." He, too, set his plate down and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Forgive me, this may be rather lengthy and it will likely be a lot to take in." I nodded. "Right then. My father was an arse. He is dead and I am relieved for it. You heard bits of the story today. I left out the lingering details. I've sought out therapy and I have come to terms with my childhood and I understand more about myself now than I ever thought possible, but my history remains a part of me and shaped who I am today so I try not to shy away from it. That doesn't make it easy to share with others or something I like to spend a lot of time thinking about. You know a lot about my father. He was a pureblood elitist who followed Voldemort around like a lost puppy looking for treats. However, Malfoys are great at self-preservation as well and when Voldemort lost power in the first war, he did what he could to maintain his status. He never gave up his beliefs and they were recited to me quite frequently. I never really understood why we were to hate someone just because of where they came from, but my father said we should, so I did."

His eyes fell on mine and I saw the sincerity in them. "And then I met you and you completely turned my world upside down. I grew up with magic at every turn and I still had to work hard to succeed in school. You spent your first eleven years as a muggle and yet you seemed so natural at everything. I was in absolute awe of you. I told my father as much when I went home for that first winter break. I questioned how someone with so much raw, natural talent could be so awful."

He turned his back to me and lifted his shirt slightly to expose his lower back. I saw several raised lines marking his soft skin that I hadn't noticed before and I gasped.

"Malfoy! What did he do to you?"

He put his shirt down and turned back to face me. "I was beat with his cane until I bled while he lectured me about the value of blood and our place in this world. Father obsessed about my grades after that. He insisted that I must beat you and every time I failed, he would abuse me until he was satisfied he got his message across. I began to tease you more heavily in hopes that my efforts to tear you down would make it back to him and prevent any future pain, but also to protect you. If I were to show any sign that I thought as highly of you as I did, he would have found a way to end you."

I was shocked at this revelation and my hands flew to my mouth. "You can't mean that. You really think your father would commit murder just to prevent you from being friends with a muggleborn?"

His grey eyes said it all. "Granger. Hermione." He corrected himself and put all the sincerity he could into my name. "He had murdered for less already. It wasn't a chance I was willing to take." He got up and began to pace. "It was after he was released from Azkaban that the cruciatas started. He was pissed that you were part of the group that took him down and blamed me for not putting you in your place in school. By that point I was mostly just keeping my mouth shut around him. I was curling in trying to be as invisible as possible. It didn't stop Voldemort from branding me as punishment for my father's failures. After that, I was being punished by both my father and by others in the inner circle. My father, because he saw me as not trying hard enough to advance our name and the cause, by the other followers as a way to further punish my father. Not one of them felt an ounce of remorse as they did it either. I got pretty good at blocking the pain while outwardly squirming appropriately. I'm convinced it's the only thing that saved me. That and my ability to do a bit of wandless magic to heal what I could. My mother helped a bit when she could get at me, but at the end of the day the whole situation was a mess. Physical abuse is almost expected in pureblood households when a child does not live up to expectations, but mine definitely went beyond the norm. I had hoped that the war had not only improved living conditions for muggleborns and the like, but helped ease some of the stress that pureblood children go through as well. Hearing Bryson's story tells me there is still a long way to go to ensure that all magical children are given a positive childhood."

Tears were streaming down my face. Harry, Ron and I may have been on the run for our lives, but Malfoy was actively fighting with Voldemort himself on a daily basis as he struggled to just survive. It was heartbreaking to hear the full extent of his childhood and I just wanted to hug him.

"Draco," His name rolled off my tongue as I stood to meet him where he was pacing. It was the first time I had used his given name, but something had changed tonight. I didn't want to associate his father's name with him in this moment.

He looked back at me. I couldn't read his expression clearly. There was definitely anger, some sadness, and if I had to guess, a certain level of embarrassment. I didn't ask, I simply wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my cheek upon his chest.

Momentarily he froze, then, after a few seconds, I felt his arms snake around me and his chin came to rest on my head.

We stayed there like that for several moments before I finally broke the silence. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"It's not your fault in the least. If anything, it was you that showed me the light and I will forever be grateful for that. I knew that as long as you were alive, there was hope."

I looked up at him then, searching his eyes and finding nothing but pure sincerity. Draco returned my gaze and slowly began to lower his head towards mine.