I love you guys! Thanks so much. As I was reading over the reviews from the last several chapters I realized that I've never actually gone to the Harry Potter Wikia. Funny, right? Not that it matters since, as one reviewer pointed out, it is fan fiction and I can change the character blood status to whatever I want but I just wanted to point out that I'm not pulling my characterizations out of thin air. I promise. All my detailing comes from either my beta or the Harry Potter Lexicon. Having said that, at the Lexicon, Lavender's blood status hasn't yet been confirmed by Jo and so technically she might actually be a Muggle-born (although that's debatable). Dean is half-blood. :) I'm going to go check out the Wikia now and compare/contrast. Thanks again guys! Here's more although this is just a chapter that's moving towards something a bit bigger so it's not exactly thrilling, lol! Maybe I could have continued but it would have ended up a monster of a chapter. Enjoy this portion anyhow because it keeps me writing. :)

LCailan

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

There are a thousand ways to love someone.

Hermione stood in the doorway of her husband's study watching him lost in his work. Often times he hated to stay at the Ministry longer than he had to and so he brought his work home with him.

Some are born with the desire for power and others have it thrust upon them.

Hermione knew Neville had never asked to be the Minister for Magic. She knew that he had been happiest when she had first crossed paths with him again – the absent minded yet brilliant Healer in Cardiff. That's where he belonged – at the Clinic he had founded in memory of his parents.

Taking the Ministry post has only served to ruin him just a bit. And now I'm going to add to it!

Her eyes burned as she stepped into the room. He worked by a small light on his desk and the windows wide open with the luxurious drapes drawn. To his left, a cup of tea sat steaming even though it was now springtime and a cooler beverage would have been more appropriate. But Neville always drank hot tea with a bit of ginger in it. And behind him there was soft music playing. Hermione recognized it as something by the Weird Sisters. Only Neville would claim such music as timeless and it brought a sad smile to her lips.

"Neville?"

He didn't jump as she had assumed he would have being that he had seemed so deep in his work. He looked up slowly and Hermione saw a flicker of something in his eyes but knew from his expression that he hadn't truly been working. Perhaps there was a distraction greater than his need to finish the work before him.

Neville's hair was mussed and as Hermione took him in she noticed the finest threads of silver amidst the caramel brown locks. The job was aging him it seemed. He frowned for a moment, biting the end of his quill as he studied her.

"Long day?"

There was tension between them and Hermione was saddened by this. When had it started? Had she simply not noticed and it had always been there? No. No, she knew it was because Draco was back in her life. Because now she was keeping things from Neville – things that were bigger than herself.

"Something like that," she agreed, her voice thick. "I had dinner with Ginny and Seamus."

Then she removed a small, stuffed rabbit from the bag she had carried into the room.

"And then picked this up for Leo," she commented, setting the thing on his desk, hoping to make him smile.

Neville's face remained serious; only a ghost of a smile flickered across it.

"I thought we discussed not getting Leo anything extra for his birthday this year?" he commented, sitting back and gazing at the brown and blue toy.

Hermione flushed pink.

"You know how he loves Babbity Rabbity! I couldn't help myself!" she effused then, though it was going to be the only truth amidst yet more lies.

Draco had given her money and Hermione had gone out to quickly pick up a toy for Leo that would be only from him and no one else. But how would she ever tell Neville that?

She had to; this had to end. She wouldn't survive these lies! Like a horcrux, each lie seemed to split her soul into more and more tiny, unfeeling pieces. Neville stood and walked to the windows stiffly. Hermione could see that it was a bad day for his leg.

"Neville," she began again, this time her voice trembling. "I need to talk to you about something important."

There was a long silence and Neville never turned around. Once again, Hermione was reminded of how something had changed between them. In another time, Neville would have led her to his favorite, worn couch and held her hands so that she could tell him what was on her heart. But the man that stood facing away from her was stiff and silent.

Still, she knew she had to tell the truth even if it killed her.

"Neville-"

"I talked to Pansy Parkinson today," he interrupted in a strange, cool voice.

Hermione's heart stopped. Did he know? Would Pansy have told him all those long hidden secrets that they both shared? Certainly she hadn't known about Draco being alive, but she knew what had happened all those months of captivity at the alienage – all the abuse and beatings, the horrors Flint had put her through…

Hermione felt like she would be sick as she waited for Neville to continue.

"I relieved Blaise Zabini of his duties this afternoon."

It was the last thing she had expected to hear and Hermione's voice escaped her in a wheezy rush.

"What?" she squeaked out.

"He no longer works for the Ministry."

The words took a few moments to sink in and by that time Neville had turned to face his shocked wife.

"I thought you would have been happier, Hermione."

"I…"

Her eyes were wide and she was at a loss for words though the look on Neville's face matched the strangeness of his voice.

"Although…maybe not. Seeing as you've been meeting with him behind my back and lying to me about what Pansy Parkinson did to you all those years ago. White-washing the actions of horrible men who abused you and treated you worse than garbage."

Hermione had never heard Neville's voice so unfeeling and yet she was unable to stop him.

"What else have you kept from me? How long do I have to wait until you realize and believe that I love you and I would never turn on you no matter what horrors you share with me?"

He turned, his face a visage of despair, and took a few faltering steps towards her, color rising high up on his cheeks.

"Do you know how I felt when I stared Parkinson in the face and had to hear her tell me what she did to you?" he hissed. "I loathe her and yet all at the same time I admire her for the courage you don't possess!"

Hermione felt herself growing faint as she took two steps back, falling against one of the large bookshelves that adorned the east side of Neville's study.

"You don't understand…"

"I do," he replied. "I do understand. I understand that you've refused to share with me those times that hurt you the most. I understand that you don't trust me. And I understand you for a fool! The things she told me!" he exclaimed angrily, flinging out his hands. "I am not a violent man but it took all of me not to curse her to oblivion! It's wonder Ginny despises her! No wonder Blaise was attempting to eradicate such filth from the wizarding world!"

Hermione saw his anger; she could taste it and suddenly hot tears of pain blurred her field of vision.

"Blaise is a lunatic! You can't really think that he has a point-?"

Her lips were trembling violently as she sought the right way to express herself.

"He's after both of us! It's just another sick agenda for him and now that you've removed him from his Ministry post it's only going to get worse!"

Neville shook his head with confusion.

"What is it you want from me, Hermione? You've gone on and on about how wrong it was for Zabini to remain with the Ministry with all his no tolerance beliefs and the moment I finally make a decision to remove him from his post you're singing a new tune?"

Her eyes flooded with hot tears.

"It's not like that! All I want is peace!" she cried out with exasperation.

"There is no such thing!" he cried back.

"This is why I was afraid to tell you! Look at yourself! Don't you see how angry you are?"

"I'm angry because I want to love you and you won't let me!" he roared at her. "This isn't really about Zabini or anything to do with the Ministry! I might not be the best Minister but I know Zabini is unstable and dangerous. I was a bit afraid to do what I should have months ago but now it's done. This is about me wanting to do what is right for us and for our relationship. Why can't you see that? Why won't you trust me with your past? Why won't you let the past go and let me love you?"

Hermione was shaking with the realization that this was it; she felt herself trembling with fear. She felt an aching sense of trepidation at the possibility that she would hurt this man far more than she desired.

Her breath came in huge heaves.

"I want to let you!" she cried out. "Is that what it would take for you to trust me, Neville? For me to rehash all those horrors?"

Neville's eyes gleamed with tears.

"It's not like that! I only want you to trust me!"

They stared at one another with intensity. Hermione was the first to break their silence.

"What did she tell you?"

The question was flat and weakened by her earlier outburst. Neville winced visibly as she gazed at him.

"She told me that she tried to kill you. She said she kidnapped Lily so she could manipulate you. She spoke of hatred so strong even I don't know that I could feel it. And I know how to hate, Hermione. I know what it feels like to hate someone so much you'd enjoy watching their demise. I'm only sorry I wasn't there when Bellatrix Lestrange was given to the Dementors."

There was a moment where Hermione was certain she could actually feel Neville's despair and rage. It passed like a spring breeze, leaving her cold and broken.

"Neville…"

"I saw her remorse. I saw that she was sorry for all the things she did to you."

Hermione swallowed.

"She saved my life," she whispered. "I would never have found my way to St. David's if it hadn't been for Pansy. You can hate me for a lot of things, Neville, but I owed her a debt and I repaid it."

Neville shook his head sadly.

"I could never hate you," he said and then she felt his arms around her. The feeling of being in his embrace served only to make her feel even more disgusted with herself.

"I just…I don't know how to express myself anymore," he murmured against her hair. "I want to make this work; I want to be with you…"

Hermione felt horrible and yet too weak to pull away and scream out the truth.

That she loved another man.

That she would never love Neville the way he deserved.

That she was a horrible woman and deserved nothing but his utter contempt.

Sighing, she fell limp against him, burying her face in her hands.

"I'll tell you what you want to know."

Her words were muffled and shameful.

Lavender sat just inside the double doors that led out onto the huge, second floor balcony of her home. She preferred the shade to the warm sunlight that had been filtering through the filmy curtains that lined each side of the glass doors.

Daisy sat out on the balcony at a small, white wooden table made just for her, working diligently at a small crayon portrait of what she had said was 'her family'.

There had been a time before, when Lavender had wanted nothing more than to spend all her free moments at her husband's side but those days were gone. Now, she much preferred the quiet afternoons after Daisy flooed home with the nanny hired to take her to and from school, when she would have some time to spend with her before Blaise returned home.

If he did.

Lately, he hadn't been home at all and that morning she had first heard of Neville Longbottom's decision to remove Blaise from his Ministry post. She knew her husband well enough to know that there would be nothing but hatred and madness when he returned. It seemed impossible that the warm, tranquil afternoon could that quickly be marred.

And so Lavender determined to enjoy whatever was left of it.

She watched her daughter thoughtfully, searching her small but perfect features, wondering what she had and hadn't inherited from her father. She had been an undoubtedly beautiful baby and each day that passed she was growing into a little girl as lovely as the storybooks Lavender recalled reading a child. She possessed flawless skin the color of caramel and dark honey and curly, blue-black hair. She was, without a doubt, a miniature portrait of her father, nearly identical if as yet not complete. Lavender knew that even if she managed to escape the life she had now she would never escape Blaise's memory for it would be etched into the lines of her little girl's face forever. And she would never give up her little girl.

She only wondered if escape was what she truly wanted. Lavender had never been a fool and she wasn't blind to the fact that living as Blaise's wife was no better than being his whore. Their relationship had come full circle; he no longer wanted her as anything more than a body to warm his bed, as a woman to satisfy his carnal needs. It was nothing knew to Lavender but it was painful for she had never loved anyone the way she loved him. The only difference between the life she had left behind and this new one was the fact that she was surrounded by opulence and comforts she had known nothing of during the war. Comforts and pleasures she had taken in place of what she truly wanted – Blaise's whole heart. It was the one thing he had taken from her and refused to give back.

The fear that gripped her was the uncertainty of her own strength – if she would be able to take Daisy and flee the life she had created in London. She loved Blaise; she could no more stop loving him than she could stop breathing. It was all too easy to say that she would leave him but so much more difficult to actually do.

Daisy had stopped coloring and approached her troubled mother.

"Mama, is daddy sad again?"

For someone so young it often had both thrilled and frightened Lavender that Daisy possessed such a perceptive mind.

"Sometimes, I think."

"Why?"

"It's work, my love."

"Will he come home today? Teacher returned my printing book today. I want to show him."

Lavender brushed aside Daisy's silk, black curls from her shoulders and she bit her lip.

"I know you do, darling. And you will. He should be home any minute."

Daisy studied her mother thoughtfully and then with increasing doubt. But Lavender could offer no more words for just then the door downstairs slammed with such vehemence it made the youngest Zabini jump.

He was home and Lavender felt her heart quicken as she stood to await Blaise. She knew he would be in a rage, especially on this day. More and more he had taken to sullen, angry silences. More and more he ignored his daughter making her worry and wonder what had changed. He would spend hours in the study with a bottle of firewhisky and if he emerged for a shower or supper he would mutter about nothing but Death Eaters. At times, Lavender would wonder if he even knew where he was.

His heavy footsteps darkened the stairs and Lavender stood between him and their daughter as if to shield Daisy from anything that might harm or startle her. Blaise had long forgotten how young she still was. She had given the nanny a day off and now regretted the decision; she didn't want Daisy to see her father in any right state- especially since lately his states had been those of violence and rage.

The door flew open and he stood there, his face darkened.

"Blaise," she began. "I'm so sorry about work-"

Lavender approached him so to stave his anger at least a bit, hoping that Daisy would not have to witness it.

"No."

The word was clear in its meaning and Lavender stopped short, holding her breath.

"How is that bastard of a Minister find the balls to get rid of me?" he raged. "Who the bleeding HELL does he think he is?"

Lavender felt the grip of Daisy's small hands on her skirts and it gave her the strength to raise her voice.

"Stop this, now! Don't you see your daughter is in the room? Don't you dare raise your voice!" she exclaimed.

The silence was stark and bitter as Blaise's onyx eyes flickered down towards his child as if she were a mere nuisance and not the fruit of his love for the woman he had married.

"Where is the nanny?"

His words were dismissive and they caused Lavender to bristle.

"I gave her an afternoon off. Is it so horrible that we spend time together as a family? Must you do this over and over again?" She demanded.

Blaise stepped forward gracefully, closing the distance between them as his dark-skinned hand came to rest upon Lavender's cheek.

"Call the nanny if you wish our child not to hear," he hissed.

There was nothing to be done and as Blaise whirled and stalked from the room and down the stairs, Lavender knelt to floo the nanny. Downstairs there could be heard the slamming of the study door and at the same time, she heard Daisy let out a stifled sob.

"Darling, don't cry."

The words were truly a waste for Daisy's eyes had filled with tears of disappointment.

"He's mad at me?"

"No, love, never!" soothed Lavender. "I told you, it's just his work."

All lies, she knew, but she refused to hurt Daisy further.

"I don't like him anymore!" exclaimed the little girl and Lavender pulled her close to press a kiss to her satiny, tear-streaked cheek.

Sometimes, I understand how you feel, my little darling. Sometimes I even feel the same way.

Dust motes danced in the hazy, afternoon sunlight as it came through the grimy windows of the old brick house on the hill. Most times it was so silent Draco thought he might go mad. But he had his thoughts to keep him company and his hopes as well. After having lost everything, even such a small glimmer of light seemed a blessing.

Unfortunately, the reality was as much hopeless as it was hopeful for his joy and dreams were wrapped up in Hermione Longbottom – the love of his life who was married to a man Draco was beginning to despise.

I want you for as long as I can have you.

He wondered how long it would be. He wondered how abruptly she would be taken from him. He fought back the terrible fear of going through life once more without her.

As long as I can have you…

Draco lived from moment to moment – each second she was with him, bringing that undying fire and hope with her, each kiss, each caress, every moment spent in her arms making love…

Those were the only things worth living for now because he was nothing more than a broken prisoner in a temporary shelter. And what would happen after?

Downstairs he heard the door open and his heart lightened knowing that at least for the next while he wouldn't be alone because Hermione would be with him.

Hermione.

Draco stood, moving quickly to open the door of the room that he had claimed as his own. It was the furthest one to the back of the house…just in case. For a moment he waited with baited breath to hear her voice call out his name. It had quickly become the most beautiful sound in the world to him.

But nothing sang up the stairs and the silence mocked him. The door shut again, this time more furtively and suddenly he felt a shiver of fear run up his spine.

It's not Hermione!

Draco's breathing grew shallow and rapid as he gripped the faded, plaster wall along the staircase peering down the shadowed, dusty stairway. No one was creeping up to find him. In fact, he heard nothing at all.

He stood rooted in place feeling more helpless than he had ever felt before. He had no wand and no way of escaping unless he threw himself out of his window. For a second he relished the thought of such oblivion but it did not last.

Downstairs he heard quiet, masked footsteps and he gracefully snuck away from the stairs moving towards the hallway as quickly and quietly as he could. In spite of his dismal life and the fact that there was little hope for him, Draco still clung to life, clung to the hope that Hermione-

"Stop."

He did, nearly yelling out in surprise as he whirled to face the intruder. She stood wand aloft and brown eyes glimmering in the half-shadows.

"Potter," he wheezed, nearly falling to his knees as weakness of relief overcame him.

Stumbling forward, Draco peered up into Ginny Potter's stern expression wishing he knew better how to read her mind. Though he was a good Legilimens the task proved impossible amidst the turmoil of his mind.

"I nearly didn't believe her," she half-whispered, awestruck. "But you are alive."

As Draco faced Ginny he saw flashes of moments from the past – of Hogwarts when he had made fun of the Weasley offspring, of seeing her again in the God-forsaken alienage but most of all…

He was reminded of little, four year old Lily Potter – staring up at him with wide green eyes. Draco had never been able to erase the image of that little girl from his mind, standing silently in Pansy's tiny apartment, mature beyond her years, gazing at him steadily. Harry Potter's eyes and Ginny's face.

Feeling awful, he tore his gaze away.

"It's like I've seen a ghost," Ginny whispered.

Lavender accepted his weight just as she had accepted the weight of so many men before him. He was heavy and warm and she longed to bury her fingers in his thick, black hair and lose herself yet again in the fantasy that he loved her and she wasn't simply an object but the woman he loved.

It had been like that once.

Lavender's eyes closed, tears seeping from them slowly as he took her over and over, violently, mindlessly, in an ancient rhythm that was more primal and habitual than it was passionate and loving.

Just and object – just a body. That's all she had become and the only way Lavender could deal with the reality was to allow herself moments of fancy, reveling in what might have been.

This time, he had hardly even waited until the nanny whisked Daisy away before tearing Lavender's clothes from her body and claiming her with needful, mindless movements. It was as if he had no conscience, no mind to where he was and what he was doing.

And she allowed it, pliant and giving in the face of his carnal demands.

She clung to him, her fingers pale against his warm, coffee-colored flesh – a stark contrast. He moved faster and she longed for a kiss, a whisper, an indication that he loved her. But none ever came for he simply found his release and fell limply against her body spent and sated. Just like all the other men she had offered herself to in back alleys, crowded pubs and flea-infested hotel rooms.

Nothing but a whore. A well dressed, well fed whore.

After sex, Blaise always seemed to grow thoughtful and mellow, those hard edges of him melting and the madness fading away for awhile. Lavender held his hand as he rolled away from her against the silken, twisted sheets. She stared at his profile, the afternoon sunlight playing against his sweat-dewy skin. She tried once more to speak with him.

"I really am sorry about what happened with the Ministry."

Her voice was low and hesitant and he twitched at her words.

"You needn't be. It is Longbottom's wife that's the problem. Once I take care of her all will be well, you'll see."

When he turned, Lavender spied a tiny smile playing on the corners of his sensuous mouth. It both thrilled and frightened her.

"Take…care of her?"

Blaise offered a chortle and Lavender felt like she was being laughed at, like a child would be at asking something that everyone else understood.

"Come now, Lavender. You can't tell me that you don't resent her. She's a nosy, bossy and controlling little harpy and she deserves to be put in her place. Why, you know just as well as I do that a common Death Eater's whore can't truly esteem to be the Minister's wife forever, don't you?"

He was talking down to her; it happened often. He was condescending and acrid and Lavender hated when he made her feel stupid. Still, she remained silent because Blaise spoke the truth – perhaps it was a twisted form of the truth like all the truths in his life, but it was no less true. She hated her inability to let bygones be bygones and yet something inside of her refused to let the resentment go.

She would never understand why Draco Malfoy had passed over her.

She would never understand why Hermione had been a better choice when they had been equal in their life and blood status.

Lavender would never forget that while she was being raped at the alienage, Hermione had spent her days protected and cared for by a turncoat Death Eater. And as Hermione clung to Draco, Lavender had clung to the hope that she and Blaise would one day be reunited and live happily ever after.

What a sodding joke.

She was living her happily ever after now and it was unadulterated hell. She was sleeping with the devil and unable to break away from him completely because she feared him nearly as much as she adored him. Hermione, on the other hand, was living a life of perfection! She had a caring, devoted and loving husband and a child that was a beautiful reminder of the love she had lost.

I do hate her.

Blaise knew it, too. He was uncannily good at reading her mind at all times and Lavender had stopped protecting her thoughts, allowing him to claim her, body, heart and mind. She could deny it until her last breath and still he would know she was lying.

Even now he was watching her, mocking her with those beautiful, onyx eyes, daring her to deny his words.

"We're in this together, my darling, little wife," he said slyly. "Until death do we part, yes? After all, the job hinges on your security and on the security of the daughter you love so much. You'll help me."

Lavender grew indignant.

"I won't help you take care of her if you mean…murder," she hissed, her blue eyes widening.

To this, Blaise let out a hearty laugh; it was the first time she could recall him laughing in months and months.

"Nothing so dramatic, my dear," he soothed; though beneath the silky tone of complacency lay something much more sinister. "I mean only to scare her a little bit."

Lavender stared at her husband.

"You've forgotten already what she and I went through at the hands of the old Ministry? How can you imagine that we have any fear left?"

Blaise offered a smile.

"Sometimes it takes but a small reminder to bring all that horror back. The mind, I've found, is a powerful thing."

Their eyes met in the growing shadows of the bedroom and Lavender had no ability to hide her fear which she could see made him happy. Fear had been Voldemort's tool – a means by which he maintained control. It was no surprise that after everything he had done, Blaise was still at his heart the same man that he had always been.

"I think we should forget this and leave London, Blaise. Just you, me and Daisy…we can find a new life somewhere else! Maybe you weren't meant to s-stay here," she said fearfully but even as she spoke the words she could see the offering of a complacent smile on his lips but his eyes boring into her and telling her she would never get her way.

"I'll only ask a small thing of you, I promise. Just remember, it will ensure your position in this new society. You are my wife; does that not make you happy? What about this home that we share and all the creature comforts you have gotten used to?"

He raised a beautifully arched brow.

"You know you could lose these things just as quickly as you gained them."

Lavender swallowed and her lips parted to speak but she didn't have to utter a word because he already knew her mind.

"Blaise, it could be amazing! A new life; can't we think on it?"

He ignored her, waiting patiently for her to finish speaking before he continued.

"You'll do it because you love me," he said, offering her a smile that was meant to seduce but served only to make her feel unnerved. Blaise leaned closer.

"You'll do it because you are my wife," he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Lavender's mouth.

She hesitated and there was an electric silence as his eyes bore into hers with determination, freezing everything in her down to her very will. Then he stood, his nude body a dark silhouette against the bright, setting sunlight and he moved gracefully towards the door through which he exited.

She was alone and tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as his final thoughts echoed over and over again in her mind:

You'll do it because you were nothing but a common Mudblood whore before I rescued you and for that you owe me more than your life. You'll do it because you have no choice.

She lay weeping, surrounded by more worldly possessions than she had ever imagined she would have and yet feeling more empty and alone than she ever had before.

Indeed, it was like seeing a ghost, Ginny thought as she stared at Malfoy.

He was shrouded by long afternoon shadows, his skin pale and translucent and his face framed by silky, blond hair that looked almost white from where she was standing. His face was drawn and tense, his lips turned down in a scowl and the only sign of life was the lighting that flashed in the depths of his gray eyes.

"I always thought I might get captured again someday."

His words were firm but there was no mistaking the fear in them.

"I just never thought it would be by someone I…knew."

His lips curled up into a ghost of a smirk and Ginny snorted.

"You think me one of Zabini's lackeys, do you?"

Draco stared wordlessly at her.

"And aren't you? If you've come to turn me in, I won't fight you. I haven't a wand or the strength."

Ginny's lip twitched for a moment as she tucked her wand away and sighed.

"I'm not here to bring you harm," she said softly and Draco glared at her in disbelief, the silence between them lengthening as the seconds passed. Ginny faltered with her words.

"I only…when Hermione said…I only wanted to know if it was true," she finished with uncertainty.

Draco's face had changed at the mention of Hermione's name; his cheeks had gained color and the harshness had melted away.

"Does she know you're here?" he rasped.

"No," replied Ginny. "I wanted to come on my own. She told me where you were."

She took a step forward and Draco jumped like a skittish colt, causing her to stop once again. She searched for the right words to say what she needed to.

"I came here because I owe you my gratitude and I have yet to offer it."

Draco's eyes widened but she cut him off just as he was about to speak.

"I let my anger get the best of me and forgot that you were good to Hermione for so long. I haven't forgotten what you did for her when Pansy-"

Her voice had grown hoarse and she brought her trembling fingers up to her mouth for a moment before continuing.

"And what you tried to do for Lily…there's not a day that goes by that I don't think of that."

Draco was watching her curiously but Ginny couldn't quite tell what he was thinking, if anything. When he spoke, it was a broken sound.

"Hermione is the selfless one, Ginny."

It was odd to hear her own name on Draco Malfoy's lips. Much too odd.

"She isn't the only one. Thank you for watching over her when she needed you. Thank you for watching over my daughter. And thank you for loving Hermione."

Draco let out a dry hiss.

"All I did was ruin her life."

"By loving her? You saved her!"

"I should never have come here."

"She loves you."

Draco turned from Ginny but she had glimpsed a shimmering of self-hatred in his eyes before he tore them away.

"It doesn't matter what you've done or haven't done. I want to help you. Let me help you both."

She reached to put her hand in his in an offer of friendship.