A/N: Hello! Your support keeps spurring me on! This is way earlier than I intended, but it just seems that all I want to do nowadays is write! I have a few assignments coming up, so I might need to take a break, but in the meantime, I'll pump out as many chapters as I can. As always, please leave a review! :D

This particular chapter has our first Dramione interactions, in fact literally the entire chapter is them. I'm not 100% happy with it, but I don't think there's too much I can do to fix it... apologies in advance for some odd characterisation.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe is owned by JK Rowling and I make no profit from writing these little stories.

Song: A Place in This World – Taylor Swift
Lyrics: I'm alone, on my own, and that's all I know/ I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh but life goes on/ Oh, I'm just a girl, trying to find a place in this world

Chapter Three: Trust

Black, so much black. Blood red words appearing, "Mudblood". A cackle, so deranged, so displaced. Eyes, two silver eyes watching, boring into her, scared, helpless, pained.

She woke up in a cold sweat. It wasn't the first time she had dreamed of her torture in Malfoy Manor, but it was certainly the first time that she'd seen his eyes. She knew that was all the sleep she'd get tonight and set about beginning her day, casting cleaning spells on her sweat-drenched sheets and taking a long shower.

Hermione found herself in Malfoy's neighbourhood at around 8:30am, and despite remembering that he said he woke up early, she meandered about in a nearby coffee shop for another half an hour. At nine o'clock sharp, she had located his address and was stuck to the spot outside of the small gate before his house. Her eyes travelled the small cobblestone pathway, imagining a multitude of possibilities from the moment she knocks on the door. Ten minutes pass, she still doesn't move, her hand outstretched to the latch on the gate, scared. Neighbours pass her by, shooting her queer looks and muttering to their partners.

Draco thought he was nervous before he watched the girl stand at his gate for what seemed like hours. He had been pacing a hole in his living room floor since six thirty in the morning, wondering what time she'd be over, if she'd come at all. After all that, Draco could tell she was just as scared as he was. He knew he had to proceed with caution, not wanting her to come to the conclusion that this was a bad idea and bolt, which is why, until this moment, he had left her standing outside his gate.

He decided to rescue her from her inner turmoil, opening his front door and strolling as casually as he could to the gate. She looked up at him, blinking once, twice, then allowing a sheepish smile to grace her delicate features, along with a blush. She noticed his attire, dark-wash jeans and a loose fitting white button up with one sleeve rolled to his elbow, the other left extended, covering his Dark Mark. She almost caught herself thinking that Malfoy pulled off muggle clothing quite well. It made her smile, however, to see him out of the prison clothes and with a little more colour to his perpetually light pallor.

"I think my neighbours must assume you're a stalker, Granger. A bad one at that." Malfoy smirked and her blush deepened.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "I wasn't sure what possessed me to come here. I've been anxious all morning."

If Malfoy was offended by her words, he didn't show it, instead he smiled somewhat reassuringly and opened the gate for her, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but would you like to come in?"

Hermione only hesitated for one moment, reminding herself of the Gryffindor courage and her promise of forgiveness, then walked in past Malfoy's extended arm. His front garden was beautiful and well-tended. Vines and fairy lights crept up metal arches which lined the cobblestone walkway. On the left there was an old oak tree, much like the one in the Weasley's back garden, with an iron loveseat below the branches, whilst the right held a veritable small field of wildflowers, threatening to spill out past the low fence surrounding the property.

Draco felt more and more at ease with every step that she took towards his house. He'd been living in a somewhat chaotic state for over a month, but watching her on his property made his heart clench in his chest. He didn't know what it meant, but he attributed it to familiarity and guilt.

Hermione felt like she was walking into a lion's den. She pushed open the front door and stepped inside. The house was beautiful and immaculate, furnished with a homely touch. The foyer was a long hallway lined with various photographs from Malfoy's childhood. The hardwood floor was covered with a long runner and various pot plants littered the walking space. At the end of the hallway was a staircase, which Hermione deduced lead to a second storey that couldn't be seen from the street, presumably only one or two rooms at the back half of the house.

Draco lead her into the kitchen, motioning her to sit at the breakfast bar while he pulled a saucepan from a cupboard and set it in the sink.

Hermione gave him a quizzical look, "I don't mean to sound rude in your home, but what exactly are you doing?"

"I'm making tea. Would you like some?" Draco responded matter-of-factly.

"I would, thank you, but I was wondering why you aren't using the seemingly brand-new kettle that is sitting just next to your stovetop?" Hermione asked, a small smile playing at her lips.

"Kettle?" Draco repeated. He left the saucepan and turned his attention to the object Hermione was pointing to, "This is a kettle? What do I do with it?"

Hermione almost laughed right then and there, but managed to control herself, not wanting him to think she was only here to mock him. She really did want to teach him about the muggle world, if he was willing to learn.

She stood from her seat, taking the kettle from his hands and taking the lid off, replacing the saucepan in the sink. Once it was filled, she set it on the stove and lit the gas.

"The kettle is used to boil water. It's its only function. You fill it with water and set it on the stove until it's ready." Hermione explained as she backed up into the counter. Draco was particularly close, hovering over what she had been doing so that he could learn.

"And how do we know when it's ready?" He asked. Hermione was glad to know he wasn't lying about wanting to learn about the muggle world.

"You'll see." Her eyes twinkled for a moment.

A silence settled in the kitchen, not particularly comfortable, but neither uncomfortable. Draco opened his mouth to break it but was interrupted by a shrill whistling noise.

"What the bloody hell is that?!" He exclaimed, jumping almost a foot in the air.

Hermione openly laughed now, moving to turn off the stove and pour the boiled water into the cups that Draco had prepared for their tea.

"That's how you know it's ready." Hermione smiled over her shoulder at him.

Draco thought it was refreshing to see her smile, even if it was at his own expense. Her laughter was a warmth that his house had been devoid of until now.

"Does it have to scream bloody murder every time?" Draco asked, not voicing his thoughts.

"If you'd like, I could charm it to make a different noise." Hermione responded offhandedly, although immediately regretted it when she watched him cringe, "I'm so sorry, that was completely insensitive."

"You're pretty good at bringing up old wounds around me, Granger." Malfoy sniffed in a half-hearted laugh, "If you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you didn't use magic in my home. I'm struggling to keep my own magic at bay as it is."

"Of course." Hermione nodded sympathetically, "Our tea's ready."

Draco motioned for them to move to the living room, taking an armchair and leaving Hermione the couch.

"Thank you for teaching me about the kettle. I only figured out how to use the stove about a week ago." Draco spoke sincerely, "See, it's these things I was hoping that having a muggle perspective and a magical perspective might come in handy for. You understand my world, Granger, but you also understand this one."

"And you're okay with it being… me?" Hermione asked, her voice suddenly small, vulnerabilities bared for him to see.

"You're the brightest witch of our age, Granger. I couldn't ask for anyone more overqualified." Draco smiled at her nervously, "That is, if you are willing."

Hermione studied her nails before she met his gaze, "I am. I don't know why, but I am."

The next few hours Hermione spent teaching Draco about various household objects including food life-expectancy in the fridge and freezer, alarm clocks, and the television. They didn't speak of anything else besides the objects that Hermione was teaching him about, despite their own thoughts.

Hermione wondered if she was safe with him, how she could allow herself to be alone in the same room as Draco Malfoy, the boy who called her mudblood and watched her almost bleed to death on his drawing room floor. She didn't trust him, not one hundred percent, although not for lack of trying; she was sitting in his house for goodness sakes. She wondered what he thought of her now, what his family would say, if his friends would accept this. Amongst this she pondered how he truly was, occasionally catching a glimpse of that darkness flashing across his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. On the exterior, he tried for emotionless, or even happy – which Hermione was slowly acclimatising to, considering the closest thing to a smile he'd given her before today was a sneer. Inside, she could tell he was hurting, but she didn't know if she wanted him to open up to her or not. Their relationship wasn't there yet.

Draco felt the most at peace he had been in a long time. He watched Granger prattle away about some nonsensical item that he had to wrap his mind around. Electricity was a hard one and he was glad that she hadn't come at night and faced humiliation and embarrassment when she had to explain a light switch. Guilt and anguish occasionally crossed his mind. He pondered whether he should apologise for everything he'd done to her, against her. He knew that she was already trying to forgive him, but he hadn't even said sorry to her once – he just didn't know how to broach the subject. Draco didn't want to bring a seemingly pleasant morning to a dismal end just because he couldn't keep his emotions in check. He wondered how his friends would see this, if he even had any friends left after the war. His parents certainly wouldn't approve of having a mudbl- muggleborn in his home, let alone allowing her to tutor him on the muggle world, although he didn't particularly care what Lucius thought anyway. If he were honest with himself, he was glad that Granger had accepted his invitation, but he was unsure her motivation behind it. Surely she had better things to do with her life than teach him about mundane objects she would've learnt about prior to an education.

"…and that is why Hogwarts needs to invest in ballpoint pens." Hermione concluded a particularly impassioned speech, spurring Draco to applaud. Hermione blushed and frowned, assuming he was mocking her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Draco amended, "That was riveting. Who knew how many muggle inventions there are that would revolutionise the Wizarding World? And that's just a pen!"

Hermione gave him a satisfied smirk, "And we haven't even started on the internet yet. You're going to love that one."

As Hermione moved her way to the study, Draco asked, "Would it be brash of me to ask if you'd like to grab some lunch?"

She paused, unsure of what she should do. Being behind closed doors with him was one thing, but being out in the public, anyone could see them. The paparazzi had been relentless in the Wizarding World, and she knew that some had followed her to her new place. If Malfoy didn't allow her to use magic in his presence, she might not be able to escape from the paparazzi here and, although she was happy to advertise her forgiveness of the boy and their somewhat tenuous friendship, if that's what you could call it, she didn't want Ron to find out by having it spread all over page one, especially not so soon after their breakup.

Draco took her hesitation as rejection, "I understand. I'm Draco Malfoy, childhood bully, former Death Eater, and son of a family whose name is most closely affiliated with Voldemort. You're Hermione Granger, brightest witch of our age, the brains of the Golden Trio, a name synonymous with Voldemort's defeat."

"That's not it at all." Hermione stepped towards him, "It's just…" She trailed off. How much did she want him to know about her life? They weren't really friends.

Sensing a change in her, Draco offered, "I'm sorry, by the way. I know it can't cover everything and I'll be trying to make it up to you for a very long time, assuming you'll even see me again after today. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the way I treated you in school, calling you mudblood, teasing you about your hair, your teeth, your brilliant brain." He paused, unsure how vulnerable he wanted to be in front of her, almost a stranger. She was about to speak but he stopped her, "I feel as though if you weren't already friends with Potter, I would have been the cause of your participation in this war. You're the smartest witch I know and you shouldn't have had any trouble breezing through school and life, had I not called you a mudblood in second year and made it my mission to actively try and make your life hell. The pureblood ideologies that I lived with ruined your childhood and there are no number of apologies I can give you that would make up for the damage and hurt that I have caused you."

Hermione was stunned, tears in her eyes she hadn't realised were there, only steps away from this broken man. She wanted to run and envelop him in a hug that took away the pain, that showed her forgiveness, and that scared her.

"Malfoy, it means a lot to me." She choked back her tears, "I hadn't expected an apology to be honest, I was ready to forgive you with or without one. I'm touched. Truly." She stepped forward and placed her hand on his forearm, looking up to meet his eyes, "I forgive you."

Draco hadn't realised how much he needed to apologise to her and hear her forgiveness. She was so sincere in everything that she did. She had her hand on his forearm, a gesture that showed how she didn't fear him and that spoke mountains to him.

He stood back from her and extended his arm for a handshake, "Can we start over? I'm Draco Malfoy. I have a lot of baggage and I'm not very good with the emotional stuff, but I'm trying."

Hermione grasped his hand without hesitation, "I'm Hermione Granger. I have a lot of baggage too, and sometimes I have an awful way of opening old wounds. I'm not perfect, but I'm me."

They both knew that this was the moment that their friendship started. Neither needed to say anything.

"By the way, Malfoy, still up for that lunch?" Hermione asked.

"I thought you didn't want to be seen with me." He responded, then after a moment, "Call me Draco. We're…"

"Friends. We're friends now." She smiled at him, "Okay Draco, you can call me Hermione." His name felt foreign on her tongue, but not unwelcome, "And it's not that. I'm absolutely fine being seen with you, but Ron doesn't know that we're meeting and I don't exactly want an overzealous reporter splashing 'Death Eater and His Prey: A Lover's Tryst' on the front page with an out of context image before I get the chance to tell him."

Draco laughed openly. Hermione had never heard him laugh and it was strange. She supposed that it sounded normal, considering the timbre of his voice and the nature of the conversation. However, it showed her his freedom, something she seemed to like about her new companion. Watching a tormented Draco Malfoy throughout childhood, even to this day seeing those glints of darkness clouding his features, she never wanted him to be rid of his pain more than this moment.

"Sorry, I was just imagining the look on that poor reporter's face when you marched yourself down to the Daily Prophet and opened a lawsuit for slander." Draco's laughter died down as he imagined the terrifying witch, hair flying with magic, fire in her eyes, all contained in a petite Hermione-sized container. "If you'd like, I can cook for you?"

"You can cook?" Hermione asked incredulously. The question was out of her mouth before she realised how offensive it sounded and was about to apologise.

"Don't worry." Draco sensed her apology and explained, "I'm pretty new to this. The only things I can cook are eggs or spaghetti. I was getting takeout for about three weeks before I tried cooking, and then I didn't know how much to cook, so I had about a weeks-worth of pasta. I haven't been particularly game to try much else yet though, been a bit scared. Although, there's a whole shelf of cookbooks in the library and so far, it hasn't seemed too different to potion-making."

"Hold on," Hermione's dangerous eyes were trained on Draco now, "You have a library? And you haven't shown me yet!?"

Draco almost burst out laughing at the image in front of him, almost exactly how he had imagined her just moments before, "This way, my lady." He bowed so low he swept his arms to the floor, causing Hermione to laugh.

"Sorry." She mumbled as she followed him into the library.

It was absolutely amazing. She had made herself a library in her current home, but it was only half the space that Draco had here and not all her books fit on the shelves. Draco explained to her that he had all of the Manor's books that weren't pertaining to anything particularly dark in nature sent to this address, but he had recently been exploring the neighbourhood and stumbled upon a muggle bookstore, so his collection had a very small muggle section as well.

"I never realised you liked to read." Hermione said with wonder in her voice. She was trailing her fingers gently across the spines of books that ranged from ten years to centuries old.

"How else could I keep up with you in class." Draco responded. His eyes grew suddenly dark and Hermione paused in her movements.

"Is everything okay, Draco?" She moved towards him, watching his eyes flicker from hers to the ground, "If you'd like to share, I'm happy to listen. Otherwise, I don't want to pry. I understand we haven't exactly been on good terms for too long."

Draco swallowed and breathed deeply. He wasn't sure what to do. His father was in Azkaban, his mother in another world. His friends didn't want to speak to him, save for Blaise Zabini, and even he hadn't been responding to Draco's letters recently due to an extended stay in Italy. Hermione was the only person who seemed to care about him at this point, and he could really be deluding himself into thinking that as well. He wasn't sure if he could trust her yet – for all he knew she could sell his secrets for good money – although he supposed that trust was built, just as she surely didn't trust him yet, and maybe this was a good step. He needed to get it out to someone. He couldn't hold his silence anymore.

Hermione had remained quiet throughout his thought process. She didn't want to interrupt him, especially if he was about to tell her something that made his features scream his pain. She knew he thought he hid his emotions well, but Hermione had been reading him for years, whether he knew it or not, and the small mannerisms that were Draco Malfoy's defence system didn't get past Hermione Granger.

Draco motioned for her to sit with him on a long couch. His elbows drew to his knees and he hung his head in his hands, not making eye contact with Hermione whilst he explained, "It began in the holidays after first year. Father had received my grades before I had arrived home from the train, unbeknownst to me. I thought I had excelled at many of my subjects, in fact – cocky little first year that I was – I had thought that I topped most of my classes. I stepped off of the train to my mother, who seemed shaken and tried her best to reassure me, although I wasn't sure what for. When we arrived home, father asked me how I did in school, in a way that I now know means that he knows the answer and he isn't pleased. I responded how any twelve-year-old would when he thought he'd best the entire year group. Instead of being pleased for me, father took his cane to my ribs. Due to his position on the Hogwarts board of governors, he had somehow acquired a transcript of the highest achieving students. I wasn't the top. You were." Draco's hands were shaking but he continued, "For weeks I would wake up at six in the morning for quidditch training, because Potter had been selected for the Gryffindor team and I hadn't. After two hours of practice I was allowed to shower and eat half a slice of toast for breakfast. From the end of breakfast until well after lunch I was to study Transfiguration, Arithmancy and Charms. I didn't get lunch. Father would quiz me on everything I had learnt. If I could not perform a spell, or I got a question wrong, he would take his cane and beat me. One lash for every time I stuttered. One lash for every question wrong. One lash for each incorrect wand movement. With each lash, he would berate me about you. You were a filthy mudblood, how could you beat me in every single class." He took a breath, "I was sent to bed without supper. Mother would always get Dobby to smuggle me some leftovers so I didn't starve to death. I broke two ribs in those first holidays. By the end of the break he had me yelling practice abuse at him that I was meant to yell at you, Hermione. If I didn't seem like I believed it, more lashes. This happened every year. Second year was particularly bad because we lost Dobby. By the end of fourth year he was using the cruciatus curse." Draco's throat tightened, he couldn't continue.

Hermione felt instant understanding for this man she sat beside. Throughout all their years at school, Draco had been taught that muggleborns were inferior, and with a threat of starvation, violence, and the cruciatus curse, his pain had to be taken out on her, lest he feel it himself.

"Draco, I'm so sorry." She reached forwards and took his shaking hands in her own, "If I'd have known-"

"There's nothing you could have done, Hermione. You wouldn't have dumbed yourself down for me, especially because of who I was. He had Crabbe and Goyle feeding information to him throughout the year. I honestly wouldn't have kept their company, they were complete idiots, but money talked, and father dished out a lot to their families just to have their boys snitch if I didn't humiliate you every chance I got." Draco looked defeated. The pain had completely changed his demeanour. His eyes were clouded, his hair limp, his face was shrouded in darkness.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She couldn't apologise for the sins of his father, and he's right, she wouldn't have been able to do anything during school, let alone wanted to do anything. She felt guilty for that, but quickly brushed it aside. She was here for him now. She watched Draco spiral more and more into himself, losing himself in the darkness inside. One small trigger, and she was watching her new, free Draco disappear. So she did the only thing she could think of. Hermione launched herself off of the couch, and wrapped her small arms around Draco's fragile frame. He was thinner than she had realised, much like she noticed from that day in court. He sat rigid in place for a moment, before his arms encircled her waist and his face was buried in her mountainous curls. She lost her balance and fell onto his lap, a little too close for her own comfort, but for now her only focus was to take away his pain. Her arms came up to his neck and she felt tears soaking through her shirt, although if they were hers or Draco's she couldn't tell.

"Thank you for opening up to me. I know it must be hard, but, even after everything we've been through, I'm here for you." Hermione said quietly.

Draco chuckled harshly, "Thank you, Hermione. You're about the only one who is."