CHAPTER TWO: Hogwarts memories

"You remember when you first met Pansy?" Draco asked suddenly.

She frowned.

"That cow? Of course I do."

He laughed softly.

"Don't judge her too harshly."

"I was telling her about Hogwarts' enchanted ceiling. She was nice to me. Up to the next week, when she found out that I was muggle-born and started bullying me. Hasn't stopped for seven long years. Don't you dare tell me to not judge her harshly," barked Hermione.

"We all have a story, Granger. Her behaviour was not the best one, and I'm not trying to justify it, but everything has an explanation. One has better than the other, but everything does."

She glared at him with disbelief.

"What are you, a philosopher now?" she mocked.

"My point is – she was nice to you, wasn't she? Yes, she might've been – a cow, as you referred to her – later on. We were eleven and led to believe that muggle-borns were scum. We should've known better, but not all of us did. We could blame our parents, our families or ourselves. We're not without fault here, but we were children. Pansy Parkinson wasn't a genuinely bad person. She was nice to most of us, I mean, in Slytherin. She was always helpful and supportive. It doesn't excuse her actions towards you or any other muggle-borns, but it confirms that she was not evil incarnate."

"I never thought she was. She was just a horrible cow."

Malfoy chuckled.

"In Slytherin, we continued to believe we were above others. Not all Slytherins were like that, in fact, I think only our inner circle, so to speak."

"The top of the chain," suggested Hermione with an unpleasant smile.

"You could say that. We were sort of an elite. And I truly don't know what other Slytherins thought of us" sighed Draco.

"Horrible."

He continued, ignoring her sarcasm.

"And so the little me arrived at school, ego nearly as big as Hogwarts—"

Hermione giggled.

"I'm sorry, is that funny to you?"

"Actually, it's quite adequate. I like the comparison. I'll remember it for the future. Please, go on."

"And Harry Potter says he doesn't want to be friends with me. Can you imagine my shock?"

"That must've been a truly traumatising experience," she said with impeccably faked compassionate expression.

"I know you're being sarcastic - but please, at least try to understand my position. I was eleven, led to believe than anyone would be over the moon to have met me. And the famous Harry Potter is saying he won't be friends with me. I was furious. Frustrated. Humiliated even. I found my own friends—"

Hermione snorted.

"What now?" he asked, clearly irritated.

"Found? Not bullied or bought them?"

"I know it's hard for you to believe. Maybe our friendship started as a result of the group wanting to be in good graces with my father, but we really value friendship. I don't know if you knew, but one of the Slytherins' most important traits is fraternity."

"Of course I know that," she said, sounding almost offended. She obviously read in "Hogwarts: A History".

"Anyway, just after he disdained my friendship, it appeared my grades weren't the best - and it was a muggle-born who was better than me. You're ambitious. You have to know how it is when you're not the best at something. You know how frustrating it is."

"I do," she said quietly, looking down at her hands.

"And if that wasn't enough for my pride and my ego – yes, I know it was not the end of the world, but it hurt nonetheless – Harry Potter was chosen for the quidditch team. Therefore, it appeared the only thing I was going to be good at, was gloating. All I had was words. Empty, but I had quite a lot of support among Slytherins. It made me feel better."

"So it is true that bullies bully other people to feel better about themselves, and that it's because they are so insecure," she said, shaking her head.

"It appears so. I guess Pansy must've been doing the same."

"So you bullied others."

"I know how it sounds. I know it's hard to understand - and frankly, it's inexcusable - but it was the only way I knew. I definitely didn't know how to deal with my own emotions."

"Well… you were a kid. I guess, on some level, it might be understandable," she admitted reluctantly. "But why are you so self-aware now?"

"Because I've had time, I've seen things I wish I hadn't seen, and I've come to peace with my own emotions. These things take time if you're so deep in shit like I was."

"So. It appears you struggled with not being the best."

"Yes. So I continued fighting for attention and support the best way I knew – being an arch-enemy of sorts to you three."

"You took it too far, Malfoy."

"I know."

"You called me mudblood. You have no idea how it is to hear something like that when you're twelve. You have no idea how painful it was for me. And every time I heard it," Hermione faltered.

"I know you never heard me say it, but I apologise," he said, looking her in the eyes and looking genuinely apologetic. She wasn't sure what to think.

"Why, why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because I was a little prick. And you deserve this apology."

She quickly fought back the tears – it was not the time. She didn't need this apology.

"It changes nothing," she said coldly.

"Of course it doesn't," he said quickly. "I'm not saying it does. But you deserve it anyway."

The silence took over the room. Hermione was trying to remain calm, but it was harder and harder with every minute. What was he up to? Why was he doing that? Why?

"And you're right that I have no idea how it is to be called mudblood by a presumptuous arsehole. But it's not like you know how it is to be called evil little cockroach and punched in a face by a girl I bullied for three years."

"Don't act like it was so horrible for you. Don't even compare the situation. You deserved that," hissed Hermione.

"I know I did, all the more reason I was so impressed with you."

"Impressed?" she sounded surprised.

"You punched me in the face, Granger. No one ever dared to touch me. And you nearly broke my nose. You stood up to me. It was impressive."

"You were scared shitless" she smiled proudly.

"That I was" he admitted with a smile. "I never told anyone. And I was pretty sure you'd tell nearly everyone. But you didn't. Why?"

She looked uncertainly over at him.

"I don't really know. A lot had happened that night. It kind of just… slipped my mind."

He shook his head in disbelief.

"And at the Championships…"

"You quite literally suggested I should be killed by Death Eaters."

"It wasn't like that."

"Oh, please, enlighten me, then," she said in a spiteful tone.

"On some level, yes, I wanted to be a prick even more for you punching me in the face. And in that case, I did hold the upper hand. But… I did want to warn you. You didn't know what was going on. And the Death Eaters were going after muggles."

"Warn us?" she snorted in disbelief.

"Believe it or not, I always admired you three. I envied you. You had each other, you were always together, nothing could keep you apart. You'd quite literally go on a Horcrux hunt together. You have this beautiful friendship I could only dream of."

"So we've got insecurity and envy. Quite a combo you've got here, Malfoy. You could write an essay about it," she sneered.

"And then, all of a sudden, it was more than that. My father didn't get the prophecy, and that's when it all started crumbling down."

Hermione tensed suddenly. She didn't know he'd be talking about this. She wasn't prepared for that. For this… honesty or whatever it was. For this talk. Why would he bare his soul in front of her like that?

Yet, Malfoy seemed determined to continue. And so, Hermione listened intently, no matter how much she was afraid of what she's going to hear next. But most of all – she was terrified she might pity him, be genuinely compassionate. She didn't want to, she preferred the old ways. Meaning, never hearing of him again and despising him.

"The Dark Lord wasn't very pleased, as you might suspect. He wanted to punish him. I was – just to remind you – a rich and an entitled bully wanting nothing more than to impress my parents. So… This did not combine well. Mother was at the verge of doing something unexceptionally stupid so that I wouldn't join them. But He made his choice, and everyone knew there was nothing they could do to stop him. So I took the mark. I was proud of it, unfortunately. Didn't boast about it, because I knew I couldn't speak of it freely, but I suggested to my friends that I had a task to do. You know what it was. I felt appreciated. Chosen. But it was just a load of shit that flowed down on me instead of on my father. I quickly realised how stupid it was. How pointless. I knew I couldn't do it, I failed again and again. I didn't have anywhere to go and get help—"

"You could've gone to Dumbledore. He would've helped you. He told you that himself," she interrupted harshly.

"Please," he rolled his eyes. "If I'd gone to Dumbledore, my family and I would've been dead within a week. No protection could've stopped him haunting down traitors like that. You didn't work beside him. You worked against him. Hence, you have no idea how it really was."

She pouted but nodded as if to apologise.

"Tell me then."

He sighed heavily.

"They would send me letters. Things like 'better check on your mum'. Or 'she was wearing that and that gold necklace today'. That was a standard. Sometimes, they'd hunt me down in Hogsmeade, dragging to the dark alley and telling me to 'hurry up'. Stuff like that. If I'd gone to Dumbledore every one of the Death Eaters would hunt my family down. Not only did I not believe in your victory, but I also knew that hiding would be pointless. He would've got us in the end."

"You don't know that."

She hid her hands underneath the desk so that he wouldn't see them shaking.

"Each deserter was hunted down in a matter of days. Besides, if you saw how he treated Pettigrew, you wouldn't say that. There was nothing he wasn't capable of. Apart from killing Potter, nothing could've stopped him. I just didn't know then that it was this one thing he couldn't do. But how could I know? From my perspective, stopping him would be impossible."

"But Harry said… Harry said you wanted all the glory to yourself," she said quietly.

These words were a reminder of what kind of a person he really was, and it was good – he didn't deserve her compassion – but she did feel guilty about it. Maybe he did deserve it, after all? She was torn, and her mind was racing. She thought she could use a break.

He went silent for a second.

"I wanted to prove myself. Prove something to my parents who were severely disappointed I wasn't at the top of my class. Prove something to people, prove that I was better than them. And prove to the Dark Lord that I was worthy. Yes, I did want all the glory to myself. Yes, I was angry at Snape for interfering. I thought I could handle it alone. To save my family. I was fooling myself. Deep down, I wasn't able to kill someone. But I knew that if I didn't, then he would kill my parents. And me. It was too much, I had no idea what to do. So I had to continue finding the solution. I will forever be grateful to Snape for what he did. Something I couldn't do. At first, I was terrified. But after war… I'd read about him, I know he was on your side. And I… I wish I had his courage to do the same. I regret I didn't seek out to him when I needed help and I regret I didn't confide in him, because he might've been able to help me some way. I should've known, I should've figured it out."

"You couldn't have known. Everyone was fooled by Snape… and well, his rather peculiar behaviour" Hermione noted, suddenly finding it too hard to hide her concern.

"And after that… Well, it was only getting worse."

She nodded when he looked at her questioningly.

"After you three disappeared… It was a huge hunt. We were everywhere looking for you. He used our house – our house, with all the good memories - the bad ones too - but he turned it into a fucking prison. We brought in Luna Lovegood. She was laughed at back at school, and I can't say I wasn't a part of that, I mean she really is weird, but… Seeing her being treated that way? She was so… Pure, innocent and then there she was, tortured in my basement. Sometimes I still dream about it. One of the worst nightmares to be perfectly honest. I tried to smuggle in some food or water whenever I could, but it was nearly impossible if I didn't want to get caught."

Luna's never told her that. Maybe she should ask about it?

"And then, they found you three. I was so… furious that you'd got caught. I really was surprised to feel that way, but I was. That's the main reason I didn't tell them I recognised you. Or rather that I wasn't sure. I really wanted you to succeed because if I had to spend more time in an oppressive world that the Dark Lord wanted to build, I don't think I could continue putting on a brave face. You can pretend only that long. But, Granger… Luna Lovegood was one. She was tortured, but it doesn't compare to what Bellatrix was doing to you… It haunts me every night."

"It haunts you?" she snorted and shook her head. "And yet… You did nothing."

"What was I supposed to do? Please, Granger, tell me. Because even now, I don't see the way out of this. I would've stood up to them – they would've killed me right away. And my parents. Trust me when I tell you, Bellatrix would not hesitate. There was no time to plan anything, besides they would've known it was me, I was the weakest link. I admired what Weasley was doing for you that night. It was… I was yet again, incredibly impressed. Called him a blood-traitor, bullied him for being poor and everything. And at this moment, he was better than me in every possible aspect."

"After that, then… Why were you trying to kidnap Harry during the Battle? Why?" she said, completely at a loss. Her hands were still shaking underneath the desk. She just couldn't calm them down.

"I was desperate, Granger. I lost every possible leverage. I wanted you to succeed, but it doesn't mean I believed in your victory. If I turned Harry over, He would've left my family off the hook. It would mean that this oppressive world would be at least in some aspects liveable for us. I know probably you find it extremely selfish. I… thought a lot about it. And I don't – it's self-preservation. My family means to me more than everything. I just wanted myself - and them to be safe. I'm not a hero. I'm not a person to make sacrifices. I'm not one to be the martyr. You can blame me for a lot of things, Granger, but you can't blame me for that."

She glared at him intently. Why did his words make so much sense? They shouldn't. She should be furious and throw him out. Why didn't she do that?

"So you're saying you could live happily in a world where people are being killed and tortured – just because you and your family lived?" she asked stiffly.

"I could live, yes. Not exactly happily, I'm sad to say I'm not a heartless monster you think I am. But if I knew my family and I are safe, then yes. I could live in a world like that."

"That's despicable."

"Look—"

"No. No! You bullied people, and you've hurt them, and you enjoyed it! I have no idea why I'm even talking to you."

She got up from her seat and faced the window. What was she doing? Did she really think a person like him could ever, ever be worthy of her time?

"I'm not saying I didn't! I'm not trying to justify what I've done, I know I had a choice, and I was a dick, a bully, and a horrible person. What I'm trying to do is present myself in a slightly better light now. Prove that I've understood some things and that I'm not this person anymore. Not everything's black and white. In my case, it's a darker shade of grey, okay? And it gets a little bit lighter over time."

Hermione wanted to look at him in disgust, but she found herself incapable of doing so. They were so different. And Malfoy was right, she couldn't blame him for trying to look out after himself and his family. It might've been selfish - in her opinion, but she couldn't expect everyone to be heroes. She met a lot of courageous people who were willing to lose life for the cause. But how could she expect that of everyone? Not everyone is prone to do the right thing for such a high price. Looking out for his family was, in its own way, also courageous. In a different aspect, but still.

She slowly sat down in her seat. Draco was staring at her bookshelf, pensive.

"Your mother was brave. There, in the forest. Telling Voldemort Harry died." she said quietly, after a moment of silence.

"I know."

"She did that for you."

"I know."

"...And you would do the same for her."

"Without the moment of hesitation."

They were looking at each other, without saying a word. Draco knew Hermione was starting to see his perspective.

"So why did you flee? After the war?" she asked.

"I couldn't stand being here. I deserved all the judging, but it was still hard. I mean, you at least had a reason to judge me. But all these people who didn't even know me? I couldn't stand it. I knew I wasn't a hero, and therefore I had no place here. So I finished this last year at Hogwarts, having everyone but Pansy, Blaise and Theo, looking at me constantly in disgust and left. Everything I did abroad was with hoping I could come back one day. And now… I hope this is the right time. Because I know I have one shot at it."

It was really hard for Hermione. It wasn't a decision to be made right away. It wasn't something she could just make her mind up in a minute. It meant changing her whole perception of Draco Malfoy. She was looking at him, seeing him – really seeing him – for the first time. And she saw a broken boy who had made many mistakes in his life but who was aware of them and – most importantly – remorseful. She didn't know what to make of it yet. It was going to be a hard decision to make. That's why she had to be extra careful. He was looking at her with hope so visible in his eyes. She thought that if someone told her ten years ago that Draco Malfoy would come to her and ask her for help and forgiveness, she'd send them straight to St. Mungo's. But there he was. Very much real and apparently, very much sorry. He had hard work ahead of him. It wasn't going to happen overnight. He had to sacrifice a lot so that he'd earn hers - or anyone else's for that matter - respect and trust. But she saw now - quite clearly - that it was possible after all. And she hoped he wasn't going to waste that chance.

"I need to sleep on it," she announced with a firm determination in her voice.

He nodded sadly.

"Is that okay?" she asked.

"Of course. Take as long as you need. Send me an owl with an answer. Or if you have any questions… Just send me an owl whatever you decide."

"Okay. Well. Thank you for stopping by and… Well, thank you for telling me. I know it couldn't have been easy. And I think I will be able to make… less biased decision based on this."

"I'm glad."

He smiled weakly and took his leave.

As soon as the door shut behind him, she stopped suppressing those tears that were stinging her eyes. She didn't even try not to sob.

A soft knock on the door and the head of Astoria appeared in a doorway.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Hermione nodded, wiping her tears away.

"Just give me a minute" she whispered so that her voice wouldn't break at least. Astoria nodded in agreement and shut the door.