Hermione had given her decision a lot of thought during the past two weeks. Initially, his apology had thoroughly both shocked and outraged her. The amount of nerve he had to ask her for forgiveness. It wasn't a simple affair to patch up years of emotional abuse. A few kind words and an apology just wouldn't cut it.

Besides that, she was still trying to figure out whether she'd dreamt the whole thing. Out of sheer disbelief, she would have hexed the person who told her Draco Malfoy, pride of the pureblood elite, would ever apologize to her. That or at least laugh the incredibly absurd notion out of existence. They were enemies. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Pure blood and muggle-born. That's the way it was and always had been.

Once she'd sorted that the event had, in fact, actually, happened, she went straight into denial. He couldn't possibly have meant it, she tried to convince herself. But what he had said and the look in his eyes had felt genuine. He'd looked as remorseful as he sounded.

Still, sorry or not, he couldn't possibly know what it was like to grow up in her shoes. She worked hard to prove to everyone, especially herself, that she was good enough no matter who her parents were. And though most people really didn't care where she came from, those that did cared far too much.

She went over Draco's words over and over again in her head. He had told her that he'd changed. Of all the things she had to consider, strangely, that was the most plausible. The rise of the dark lord had changed everything. Voldemort had been feared by those that supported and opposed him alike. Draco had even mentioned that the monster himself had been living at Malfoy Manor. Hermione couldn't even begin to imagine how horrific that must have been. But even with Voldemort gone and the war over, she strongly suspected that things had been far from easy for him.

For one thing, Lucius Malfoy had gone to Azkaban following Voldemort's defeat. She had met Lucius, in Flourish and Blotts that one time before second year. If there was anyone who was more abominable than Draco himself it was his father. She thought back to that day she'd first met him in the bookshop. For a moment she had almost felt sorry for Draco. Draco's father was heinous enough to make him look like a saint. Still, she had no idea what sort of repercussions his imprisonment had instantiated within Draco's home life. And what if Draco was happy to be rid of his father?

In the early years, her sympathy towards the bullying boy had been short-lived. Even on that day back in Flourish and Blotts, her acute feeling of pity had vanished almost instantly when, only seconds into the conversation, the word mudblood had rolled off the tip of the younger Malfoy's tongue, as if he were contractually obligated to say it a certain number of times per hour. He didn't need or want her pity. Not when he was putting so much effort into growing into his father's shoes.

But now, the more she thought, the more traces of sympathy seemed to be slowly coming back to her. Hermione vividly remembered her night at Malfoy Manor. The place had already been horrible even before she'd endured such awful things there. The place exuded an air of melancholy all the way from its dark marble floors to its towering ceilings. It felt much less like a home and much more like a prison. An empty one that used lavish decorations and raw pretentiousness as a façade. Not unlike the impression Malfoy senior had given her during their brief meeting.

It couldn't have been very nice to grow up in a place like Malfoy Manor or with father like Lucius Malfoy. She imagined a young Draco receiving a punishment for running about and breaking something expensive. If Lucius was as oppressive with his son as he was with others, then Draco had at least one good reason to be so foul. She knew that he been reared to look down upon others just as strongly as she had been taught not to. It was all part of the Slytherin pure-blood mania. And while it by no means excused his behavior, it did certainly account for it.

Despite how much she wanted to disbelieve him, she was convinced in spite of herself. And when the realization struck deep, that he was, in fact, genuinely issuing an apology for his actions, she felt ashamed. It would be hypocritical of her to refuse his apology when she had secretly yearned for one so long. She realized, however despondently, that she would have to set things straight.

So there they stood.

"I've decided to accept your apology."

In her tone lay the hidden insinuation now don't make me regret it. His facial expression contorted with an initial wave of shock. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I gave what you said a lot of thought, Malfoy. It seemed apparent to me that you'd changed this year, though I couldn't pinpoint in what way exactly. It occurred to me that you could be plotting revenge or some other nefarious deed. I was wrong to assume so, but you'll have to excuse me if I don't apologize. Your track record gave me no reason to consider otherwise."

She felt the coolness of her own voice and was suddenly flooded with a sensation of regret. It was all wrong. He had been honest and vulnerable with her. And what did she give him in return? She was being downright accusatory and unfair. They had both gone through hell in the past few years.

She drew a deep breath and felt some of the tension leave her body.

Her voice came out more gently when she spoke next. "What I'm trying to say is, I appreciate what you did. It seems you've taken McGonagall more seriously than I have. I was so focused on disliking you I couldn't accept that you had actually given me a genuine apology and I'm sorry." She paused to gather her thoughts. He stood silently.

"I think she's right, McGonagall. We can't do what we were supposed to this year until we put our differences aside. I don't think I could have done it on my own. You did what I couldn't, and for that I'm grateful."

She managed a weak smile. His stormy grey eyes flicked up and met with hers.

"I truly am sorry," he said finally, his eyes trained steadily on hers. "You were right to be suspicious. I've been nothing but wretched to you for so long. But I'm ready to spend the rest of the year proving that I've changed." A pale hand with long sturdy fingers extended towards her. "What do you say? Think we can try this again?"

With a last calculating glance over his figure, she reached out her own hand and shook his firmly.

"You've got yourself a deal, Malfoy."