The steaming mug clutched in her hands, she sat staring out the window watching the raindrops as they formed little channels down the pane. She had moved to the little window seat when he had gone to make her a cup of tea and had yet to say another word since her agonising confession.
He sat patiently, waiting for her to elaborate, watching as she reached a hand out to touch the glass, tracing the a lone drop that fell like a tear before pooling and merging with a little river that made its way to the bottom.
She sighed and took a sip of her tea before moving to the coffee table where she placed the cup down before sitting cross legged on the carpet by his feet, tracing the little whirls of the wooden coffee table with her finger, her head slightly pressed against his knee. He looked down at her little figure and noted how she seemed to make herself small as if trying to hide herself from what she had done.
"We knew we were being followed. All of us. Umbridge, Yaxley, Runcorn, Travers….they we're following our every move, watching us at all times. We knew they would stop at nothing" her fingertips lightly grazed over her left forearm as she quietly spoke.
"Mum and Dad were in danger. If they came for them…." she choked back a sob.
"Grief is an inevitable part of life. An emotion we must all face someday. But it is even harder when you are grieving for someone who is still alive but doesn't remember who you were. That was something Ron never understood" she whispered, recalling the memory of one particularly spectacular row they had one night in Berlin.
"You never see things from my point of view! You aren't the only one who lost someone, Hermione! " he shouted, balling his fists.
"Grief is still grief, whether you lose someone physically or not, Ronald!" she retorted, tears threatening to break forth.
"I lost a brother, Hermione! A brother. You have no idea what that is like, and even my loss is nothing in comparison to what George lost! He quite literally lost half himself!" He paced frantically before pulling out his wand and hexing every item of furniture in their hotel room.
"I lost my parents Ron!" She screamed, tears streaming down her face, hair wild and frizzy.
"That isn't the same!" He bellowed, his face beetroot with rage. "They are out there, still alive."
"But they don't know me! I lost who I am! Who I was! A whole life gone!" she frantically wiped her eyes in a vain attempt to stem the flow of her tears.
"You have MY family and you have ME you know who you are Hermione!" He yelled, kicking the coffee table over, his rage having reached a frightening crescendo.
"It's not the same!" She sobbed, crumpling into a heap on the floor.
He stormed to the door of their room and opened it.
"Where are you going?"she cried, scrambling to her feet.
"OUT!" he bellowed before slamming the door so hard a picture fell from the wall as it shook, the glass of the frame smashing into pieces.
Climbing into bed fully clothed, the room in disarray, she cried herself to sleep and not for the first time because of Ron either.
.
"I had no choice" she quietly continued. "The only way to keep them safe was to make them forget me. To erase my existence from their lives. To make it as though I never existed" she shut her eyes at the painful memory as it assaulted her psyche. He reached down and stroked her hair in empathy. He knew something of the inner turmoil of following a course of action in order to protect one's parents. He knew the trauma of knowing the path you were on was only leading you further down the river of Styx, as you prepared to meet Hades himself. She leaned into his touch, accepting the comforting gesture, silent tears flowing down her pale cheeks.
"I am no better than the murderer himself" she whispered.
Malfoy's hand stilled and he got down on the floor beside her, tugging her into his lap. She resisted at first, refusing to look at him as he gently took hold of her chin. His eyes glazed over as he forced her to look at him.
"Do you know what Dumbledore said to me that night up on the Astronomy tower?" he whispered, his voice hoarse as he tried to stop himself breaking down at the memory of that fateful night.
She silently, almost imperceptibly, shook her head.
"You are no assassin" he whispered, holding her gaze. "We might have been on different sides of a line back then, but we were all forced down paths by others. Our lives were preordained from the start. You did what you had to do. You made an ultimate sacrifice for the greater good. You might not have given your physical life for the cause like bloody Saint Potter" no malice in his voice as he pressed on with his point "but you still gave your life. You are nothing like this psychopath Granger, you are no more murderer than I am assassin" he finished, touching his forehead to hers.
He remained on the floor with her in his lap until her tears subdued.
"I shall tell you something else for free, Granger" he said, as he pulled her to her feet some time later, an amused glint in his eyes as she frowned.
"If anyone is going to catch this killer it will be you, Miss Brightest Witch of Our Age" he smirked playfully, trying to lift her spirits.
She playfully punched his arm in return, his aim achieved.
"Prat" she grinned.