Sup everybody, hopefully I'm back on time this week, if not, I'm a bad elf and I'll go bang my head against a wall. Kidding... probably. AAAAAAANYWAYS, I wanted to take a chapter and give you the whole story so far from our favorite misunderstood and obscure hero. Actually, I had no idea on how to start this chapter and I just typed the first sentence and was like "Huh... Seems cool" and I was too lazy to think of anything else so there you have it! Thanks to all the lovely orchids that have liked this story and given me encouragement to write more, whether that was by following or leaving a much appreciated review, it's because of you that this continues to exist. So, um, you know who to blame for all the terrible content. Just saying. Also, I'm changing the rating to something more kid-friendly since I doubt I have the guts to write smut after all, turning prude-er by the day and all that jazz. But, be warned, this chapter is going to be darker and kinda sad.. Hm, maybe I should keep that rating after all. Oh well, what can you do? Maybe read the story? Just an idea. Sure, you want that? Okay, I'll leave you to it then. Go on, shoo.

1 year ago

Draco Malfoy had never expected the Gryffindor Princess to look up from one of her enormous books and instead dedicate her time to getting to know him. It wasn't like he wanted that - on the contrary, a friendship with the bookworm had never even been contemplated as a thought until the Trio's capture and her torture before his own eyes. And still, at first it was only guilt and doubt about his choices, never any short of kinship towards the witch. When he had approached her at the Great Hall that day all those years ago, he was only planning on apologizing for all the pain and misery he had caused, directly or not, to her and her friends. Instead he froze, her wary stance towards him shaking something deep inside him.

During his year in Azkaban solitary, he had found more than enough time to mull over the happenings of the last couple of years. He had known he was in the wrong from his first day with the Mark on his forearm but it had only been the small, weak voice of his subconscious, one he easily pushed away to the furthest pits of his mind in order to focus on his tasks. And yes, that voice had gotten louder each month but it had only broken through to him the night he watched Granger writhe and scream on the floor of his childhood home. What are you doing, Draco? Why on Earth would this ever be okay? Are you really that stupid? She feels pain and fear just like you. She bleeds just like you. Her face makes the same expressions yours would if you were under the Cruciatus. Why is she any less than you, you pathetic excuse of a wizard and a man?

It was why he had convinced his mother to reach out to the young witch and support her cause, since maybe that would be some payback for all the obstacles he had thrown in her way and all the misery he was responsible for. He knew it was also the right thing to do since her fight was just and honorable but it was also a way to reach out to her personally. After all, neither Potter nor Weasley had suffered at the hands of a maniac such as his aunt, his own blood. Nor did they have to carry a reminder of such encounter on them for the rest of their lives - a reminder in a form of such an atrocious scar no less. No, they had gotten off easily, spend a few hours at the dungeons while their friend went through hell and back. So he didn't owe them an apology; if anything, he held a bit of a grudge towards the two war heroes for not being able to protect her better, for being stupid and naive enough to get themselves caught in the first place.

Reaching out on his own before being locked away for a year had been an impulsive but foolish move. To that day, he still didn't know why the idea had popped in his head but before he knew it, he was scribbling away on the tiny piece of parchment each prisoner in the high security wing got in order to write to their family and loved ones before they were completely gone for the remaining time of their sentence. He hadn't known what to write or even how to start and he became so embarrassed of his attempt at reaching out that he never mentioned it to his mother once they reunited for their common year of house arrest. By the time Shacklebolt approved of the business proposition and allowed them to approach her, Draco had almost forgotten about that momentary lapse of judgement. Which was why he was surprised when a smaller piece of parchment accompanied her official response, directed personally to him. And though her kind and forgiving nature had caused a new wave of guilt to wash over him for past mistakes, he was still left with a tiny sliver of hope for a better future.

Arranging the meeting had been a whole other problem to concern himself with. With one month left of their confinement, not even the soft-hearted Minister was willing to take such a big risk, not when even he wasn't fully convinced of their intentions and when he was fighting to avoid any possible scandal emerging on the press. That time they were saved by Theodore Nott Jr, an aspiring and quickly rising lawyer of the Ministry, a job he had gotten directly after his trial, in which he was declared innocent in all matters concerning the Dark Lord. Though their paths had taken different turns in sixth year, he had still remained one of Malfoy's most loyal and trusted friends and he was quick to vouch for them, both as a trusted worked of the Ministry and as the temporary handler of the Malfoy Foundation by Shacklebolt himself. He had suggested the place and had even enlisted Luna Lovegood, a close friend of his as they found out due to their shared experience of being mother-less and an honored member of the Order, to keep an eye on them and intervene if anything seemed suspicious.

And though they went through all that trouble to make the meeting happen, Draco had still doubted that the witch would show up. She would probably change her mind at the last minute or be convinced by the other two Musketeers that it was a poor choice to make. As she actually approached their table, he had to do a double-check to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep due to his new found insomnia and that someone actually had believed in him enough to give him such an opportunity. Thus why he had approached her when it was all said and done, he just had to thank her again. She would never understand how much their collaboration meant to him - and no, not the Foundation, him personally - or how much her acceptance of his past life reassured his all-consuming self-loathing. And he would never be able to express his gratitude in a few simple words, but he tried over and over again.

Then suddenly, as fast as their tentative companionship had started, it vanished. It was something he had knowingly caused, yes, but he still kind of regretted it every time an indifferent "Hello, Malfoy" was aimed his way. But he couldn't actually let her in, what had he been thinking?! She was a well-loved war heroine, she had no place mingling with scum like him. No, no sort of amicable relationship would ever work between them, it would just thrust her again in the world of gossip she so despised and it would probably ruin her reputation. He never took into consideration though that the witch in question was no ordinary person. No, Hermione Jean Granger never gave up once she set her mind to something. And if that something happened to be getting to know Draco Malfoy, she would, no matter the cost.

Ever since she had found him in his office, they had started grabbing lunch together. At first they barely spoke, only exchanging a polite greeting as she came in his office with a different bag of food each day, grabbed her own and sat herself on his couch with her newest book in her lap. He had tried to ignore her and keep on working like before, but she would send a quick zapping hex his way as soon as she noticed he wasn't eating. So their lunch quickly developed to them both eating and reading in silence, something neither seemed to complain about. Soon they were giving each other book recommendations and chatting about the newest play coming up or the latest music to be produced. Turns out, Draco apparently had a taste for muggle rock music and the works of William Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams. Exploiting his new found interest, she forced him to go to the theater with her, for a production of Twelfth Night. The lack of wizarding reporters and familiar faces intrigued the young wizard almost as much as the tale presented so he was quick to agree.

Still, he never thought he would find himself in a situation such as this, not even when going out on Friday nights to Muggle London and getting to know muggle culture became an actual habit. They would go out and eat - she convinced him to try all sorts of different cuisines - or see a spectacle - apparently, the Muggles also had moving pictures but their own were telling stories of fiction and it was truly marvelous, like observing a book unfold its story before your eyes without turning a single page. He could even now remember his awe when he first came upon a dinosaur skeleton at the National History Museum. When places in London started to run out, they traveled, whether by apparition or flying (although Hermione despised the second one and it had taken him buying her concert tickets to get her to try it out), his favorite trip by far being Louvre. And yes, they were indisputably friends, but mostly because they only had each other to match their intellectual range. They were the only people in each other's lives to appreciate the same things with the same passion so they used each other to fill the void.

No, they weren't real friends, they couldn't be. Which was why he had kept her in the dark until he found himself on her doorstep, sopping wet and drunk on every alcohol in existence. How could he tell her about the attack he had suffered on a simple stroll with his mother just for existing? How could he confess his inability to protecting the most important person in his life since he was too preoccupied suffering through the greatest panic attack of his life? How could he narrate seeing curse after curse hitting his mother while he sobbed in the corner with a dagger on his throat? How could he express the shattering of his world as she was Avada'd from behind, the coward executioner not even having the courage to look her in the eye as he took her life away when her only crime was having married into the wrong family? How could she ever understand?

Instead he had spend the next week holed up in the mansion, almost a statue by his mother's bed, holding her frozen cold hand and begging to every deity listening to bring her back to life. He had gone through a phase of scouring every book in their library for any spell that might get her back from the Veil. He had gone through a phase of devising plans to find the rogue criminals, hunt them down and tear them apart limb by limb, honoring his legacy as a Death Eater and drenching wizarding London in blood. He had gone through a phase of staring at himself in the mirror, his wand pressed under his chin, the spell to end it all hanging for dear life at the tip of his tongue. And then came the phase of spiraling down into the abyss of despair and self-loathing, starting with his father's most prized whiskey right after the small, one person funeral. It had started with that whiskey but it quickly developed into spending his whole days at different pubs of muggle London, begging for one of those strange cars to hit him as he crossed the street to go to his next drinking place.

But after a week of going back to the now empty mansion, he couldn't push through anymore. He couldn't stare at her portrait above the fireplace, her life-like eyes sparkling with her usual hidden smile. Every time he looked at that portrait, his failure came back to haunt him. And in his intoxicated haze, her presence somehow called to him. Before he knew it, he was knocking on her door with all his might, barely holding himself upwards anymore. When she opened the door, her eyes widened and he knew that she knew. "Shacklebolt told me the next day. He showed up at the Foundation, not many know, we just said you were sick. I'm so sorry Draco" she rushed out, opening her arms in a hug he immediately accepted. Hearing her call him by his name was the straw that broke the camel's back since only his mother had called him that in a while and he just wept openly for the first time since the attack, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she rubbed his back in a soothing manner.

Some time later he found himself on a small couch, a blanket hastily thrown over his shoulders and his clothes magically dried up, a cup of hot chocolate clasped in his hands and his gaze lost in the dance of the flames in her fireplace. Hermione by his side, her small hand on his knee in an attempt to hold him anchored in reality. He had just cried and she had just held him and then silence. He was too lost in his thoughts and she didn't want to startle him since he had finally calmed down. She herself didn't know how it was to watch a parent get murdered before your eyes but she had technically lost her parents so she felt for him greatly. Just when things had started to look up disaster had struck and he was lost on how to handle it, she understood that. And she had a duty as his friend to be by his side, offer support whenever he needed it. So when he turned to her suddenly with a frown on his face, making her jump, she knew she would do anything in her power to help him out in that terrible time. "Can I... Granger, I can't go back to the Manor. I tried but... She's everywhere. I just... Can I stay here? Only for a few days, I'll figure out a solution as soon as possible, I promise. Please, Hermione?"

Her actual given name and a plea in the same sentence coming from Draco Malfoy, the world was truly a different place. But was it, really? When people got ambushed and slaughtered for past mistakes and prejudices, how was that any better than before? The answer was no, it wasn't. But she would make it. She'd go through a whole new war if she had to. But her goal was a better tomorrow, not just a different party in charge. The man before her suffered from people on her side like many others before had suffered from people on his and all the pain was unnecessary. But before she launched herself into a new fight for justice, she first had to fight to bring her newfound friend back to some semblance of normalcy. "You can stay as long as you want, Draco. I honestly don't mind at all. Take all the time you need, no one's pressuring you, this is important. I'll leave you to sleep now, you need the rest to clear your head. If you need anything, don't be afraid to ask."

She picked up her own empty cup of tea from the coffee table and made towards the kitchen, quickly cleaning up and preparing a glass of water for bed. She waved him goodbye and he nodded as she made her way through the small hall of her apartment towards her bedroom, exhaustion washing over her as she neared her sanctuary. She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts she barely heard him before the door separating them clicked shut.

"Thank you."

Bit of a smaller chapter here but I really needed to get this done today. I'll be gone the rest of this week so I don't know when I'll actually get the time to reply but I really hoped you liked this. I'm sorry it was late but honestly, did you expect any better? Anyways, I'm sorry if that was too sad - or if it wasn't, I seriously don't know, it's my first time writing a sad story so it could be just awful, you tell me. On a happier note, we're getting close to the actual romance happening so yay (?). That's all for today, hope you enjoy this, please review to let me know of your thoughts!