"I'm sorry."

Draco closed his eyes, his eyelids brimming with tears that rolled down his cheeks. He felt as if his world was collapsing, as if everything he'd understood had just turned his universe upside down.

Hermione was on the other side of the door, chin resting on her knees held tightly against her chest. The rebellious locks of her pigtails stuck to the dried tears on her cheeks and her lips were swollen and red from the torture of her own teeth.

She flinched slightly at the sound of Malfoy's voice and her heartbeat quickened as she realised he was speaking to her. Was he apologising?

"Why?"

It was the first question that popped into her head and she didn't think twice before uttering it.

Draco, on the other hand, was surprised to hear it. Truth be told, he hadn't expected her to say anything, neither an answer nor silence. He'd simply whispered the words that had been tickling his lips ever since he had realised what his housemate had been going through, not only today, but for weeks. Since he had begun to move freely around the house, he had observed, and analysed his surroundings. In that time, he'd taken notice of things he wished he hadn't. Or maybe he was glad to finally know. He honestly wasn't sure if he preferred his own ignorance to the weight and responsibility of knowing.

He felt betrayed by his friends for keeping this from him. He had been furious when Blaise had told him he resented Granger for not having agreed to take him in earlier so they'd have more time to prepare the house for his coming.

He remembered his own speculations about her, when he'd been certain she meant him harm. How could he have believed such a thing? Now, having observed Granger, it all seemed so unbelievable to him.

All of the pieces of the puzzle that was Granger had been in front of him for months, but he'd only just put together the edges–only just glanced at the reference on the box.

The answers to his questions had been right in front of him the whole time. The answer to all of them was Granger.

"It was unfair," he replied after a silence. "Not once did they express gratitude to you or reflect on what you were going through. They should have apologised for putting you through all this."

It was easier to talk with his back against the door, unable to see her reaction to his words.. He felt he could speak more freely and simply, without fear of judgement. It was simple.

This wasn't Granger, the girl he'd grown up with and loved to tease for laughs. This wasn't Granger, the girl he'd seen tortured on the floor of his family's manor. This wasn't Granger, the girl who'd fought on the other side.

She was someone else entirely. Hermione was kind and warm and real. He'd lived with her for months and not once had she shown any animosity toward him. The girl who had helped him out of prison and changed his destiny. She was the girl who had forgiven him before he even had to apologise.

On the other side of the door, Hermione shrugged. What did he care? Why was he suddenly taking an interest in her? Why was he worried about her condition? He was enjoying it, wasn't he? He too was using her for his own good, wasn't he?

Or perhaps he too was powerless over all this. She didn't know.

"I chose to–," she said without really knowing why. "I chose to do all this."

It was easy. She said whatever came into her mind. He wasn't there, not really. She could speak freely.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, frowning.

"I chose to help you. I could have refused."

"But you didn't."

"No," she said, defeated. She suddenly felt pathetic and lousy for not having the will to prioritise her mental state over the comfort of others.

"Why?" Draco asked, now daring enough to ask the questions that could cure his curiosity. Afterall, it was easier to be brave with the safety of the barrier between them. It was simple.

It was his turn to ask, but Hermione didn't know how to answer. She didn't know anymore. She'd never thought about it, she'd never considered why she'd done it. Why she'd accepted when she could have definitively refused.

Harry's pleading look and Zabini's incessant letters flashed before her mind's eye, remembering how she cried against Albert's body as she wrote responses she knew to be futile.

"For whom?" Draco added after a long pause.

Her eyes filled with tears over the treacherous question. She felt he was drilling her, scrutinising her every decision.

For whom? For whom?

"For me," she answered. "For Harry. For you."

She took a long breath to give herself the courage to continue. Behind the door she felt heard and understood. She could do it. Because it was simple.

Draco remained silent, his eyes closed and his mind focused intently on her voice because he wanted to understand. For you, she'd said. For him.

It was new, strange and unexpected. The last person he would have imagined taking care of him was Hermione Granger. Because she shouldn't have. Because she should have hated him but she didn't. Maybe she never had.

"For me, to have peace, I guess. Because they spent weeks sending me letters begging me to accept. Because I wouldn't have been able to go on living knowing that I hadn't helped all of you, that I hadn't helped you. I wouldn't have been able to look at myself in the mirror and respect the person in front of me. Because–because it's simply not in my nature to let innocent people pay for the mistakes of others. It wouldn't be fair."

Letting her head fall back, she let out an ironic laugh. Now that she was saying it out loud, it made no sense. It all seemed derisory when taking into account what the last few months of her life had been like.

Draco crossed his arms in his lap and tugged at the sleeves of his black shirt. He had missed the soft silk fabric of his own clothes given to him by his parents and was glad to have some back as a physical reminder of them. Perhaps it was pompous to think so, but the memory of the first time his parents had given him one was soothing. It was a good feeling, something he was glad he hadn't forgotten.

Granger's words touched him more than he could have prepared for. She thought him innocent and wanted to help him, and it made him even more furious towards his friends. Harassing someone in a compromised emotional and mental state with letters to accept a former criminal into their home? As their spouse? Strangely, no one had told him about the lengths they'd leaped to make it happen for him. Did he deserve it?

He clenched his jaw and waited for her to continue. He wanted to know more–everything.

Because the discussion was simple, wasn't it. Wasn't it?

"For Harry," Hermione continued.

Fiddling with a thread sticking out of one of the pockets of her dungarees helped her concentrate; she focused only on the thread and not the words coming out of her mouth. The ease at which they flowed would disconcert her if she thought about them.

"Because he's my best friend," she said with involuntary bitterness.

Draco refrained from saying anything aloud. Best friend? He was curious what the term meant to Granger. Potter did not have any of the redeeming qualities he'd consider in a best friend.

"Because I know how much he loves Theo and how unhappy he was without him. I figured after all his suffering and everything he'd been through, he had a right to a little happiness."

"And you don't?" Draco couldn't help but blurt out.

Draco bit his lower lip as he realised what he'd just asked. Cold fear suddenly washed down his body. He should have kept his mouth shut, he shouldn't have asked her that. He had ruined everything.

It wasn't simple anymore, it wasn't calm.

"I didn't think things would be this hard," Hermione admitted. "Or maybe I did. I don't know. I guess it didn't really matter."

Draco let out a silent sigh of relief as he realised he'd done the right thing. She wasn't angry or annoyed by his question, she didn't yell at him to go away. Instead, she was confiding in him. Because it was simple.

"I told myself I had no right to be selfish, not when other people's happiness depended on it."

Draco frowned. He wasn't sure he'd heard right. Had she really just suggested that?

"Selfish?" he repeated. "You're not selfish. You are the least selfish person I know, Hermione Granger."

She tensed when she heard her first name from his lip, unable to decide whether it was pleasant or not. This bloody thread was far more important.

"Maybe I should have been," she contented herself with replying.

"Impossible," he said, shaking his head.

She heard the sound of his hair brushing against the door just behind her head. She was surprised to know that there couldn't have been more than two inches separating them.

"It wouldn't be you, you're not selfish. You never have been."

"Yes, I have!" she retorted defensively, straightening slightly. "I have been! Everyone's a little selfish!"

He held back a smile that was threatening to stretch across his lips. Why would he do that? She couldn't see him, anyway.

It was easy to talk to her. Somehow, it felt natural.

"Ah yes? When?"

"Well, I– I– When I was in–Well, I–"

This time, Draco didn't bother to fight his smile. He stretched his long legs out into the corridor, until they were only inches from the opposite wall. Yes, it was simple to speak with Hermione Granger.

"You can't find any examples because there aren't any. You're not selfish. Even growing up in different houses and groups of friends, I know that. I know it because you aspire to something else."

Hermione wiped away a treacherous tear with the end of her sleeve and shook her head, smiling beside herself. Perhaps he was right, after all.

"Yes, I was!" she remarked after a silence. "In third year, I used a Time Turner without telling anyone for nearly the whole year and–"

"You used a Time Turner?" he interrupted her in amazement.

Hermione abruptly cut herself off and clamped a hand over her mouth.

For a moment, Draco thought he'd said something stupid, rushed her or even hurt her feelings when he didn't hear her answer, but then a chuckle sounded in the silence of the corridor.

"I shouldn't have said that," she laughed helplessly.

She was suddenly in a fit of laughter. Maybe it was fatigue, or too many emotions in one evening.

"I should not have said that," she repeated through giggles.

Her laughter was contagious, and though a small part of him wondered if it was actually sobs, he couldn't help but join her. Perhaps it was both.

Hermione felt her muscles relax as she heard Malfoy share her laugh. She'd never heard him laugh, at least, if she had, she couldn't remember. Certainly she would have remembered such a clear, light and sweet sound.

Perhaps she'd heard his taunts and mockery in the past, but never such a carefree sound. It was natural. Easy. Simple.

Draco Malfoy was laughing. Draco Malfoy. Draco. Malfoy.

Long gone was the boy from Hogwarts. He wasn't the boy she'd known, was he? Malfoy was no longer the boy who had relentlessly bullied and taunted her. He was no longer the prodigal son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy who loathed Muggleborns. He was no longer just the boy who had brought Death Eaters into Hogwarts and fought on the other side.

It was as if she were talking to him for the first time. It was as if everything she once knew about Draco Malfoyhad disappeared. This Draco Malfoy was her housemate. This Draco Malfoy cooked all of their meals, picked up her cold teacups when he saw them lying around, and sometimes fell asleep in the library, with a book on his chest and his hair a mess.

"A Time Turner?" he tossed out once their laughter had subsided.

"It's a long story," she replied, shaking her head.

"I've got plenty of time."

She bit her lower lip.

"I needed it to attend all of the classes I wanted to take," she confessed, closing her eyes shamefully.

She waited for the inevitable mockery. This was what had to happen. Because he did it so well, didn't he? It was easy to laugh at her situation.

It didn't come. He didn't say anything–didn't taunt or scoff. Perhaps it didn't even cross his mind.

Only the same light, quiet laughter sounded behind her.

"I'm not surprised," he said, shaking his head in turn. "But it's still not selfish, Granger."

"Hermione," she retorted at once.

That was easy.

"My name is Hermione," she added.

"Hermione," he whispered, testing.

She smiled helplessly.

The moment seemed frozen in time. She hadn't been treated like this for so long that it seemed unreal, no matter who was on the other side of the door. How long had it been since anyone had spoken to her so naturally and carefree? No need to mince words, no fear of hurting her feelings, rushing her or triggering one of her famous panic attacks. When was the last time someone spoke to her without over-analysing their words?

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to her, Draco was thinking the same thing. It was all so unusual that he felt he was in a parallel reality not being spoken to as if he were a weak, wounded animal. He laughed without seeing pity in the other person's eyes or being asked about his condition every two minutes. This was... different. It was pleasant.

He felt as if he were discovering a new person, as if all the preconceptions he'd built up since arriving in France were being shattered one by one. Gran–Hermione was different.

"My name is Draco," he said after a silence.

"Draco," she replied with a smile in her voice.

It was as if they were starting anew and Hermione liked it. It was so simple.

Soft footsteps echoed down the corridor and although Draco tensed at first, he was soon reassured to see that it was Albert who barked softly as he approached, causing Hermione to smile from the other side of the door.

"I think he likes you," she said as the dog rubbed his muzzle against Draco's cheek.

She had noticed how much Draco had relaxed in the presence of her furry best friend. Albert always joined him in the kitchen when they came home from the village; it had become a little routine. For a long time, she'd been frightened by their newfound closeness, dreading the fact that one day Albert would prefer Mal–Draco. Slowly, that fear had disappeared, replaced by a certain curiosity. They lived together, and that was fine. It was simple.

"I like him too," Draco replied, stroking Albert's head.

"Do you think they're gone?" Hermione asked then.

Draco turned his eyes to the empty corridor and shrugged.

"I hope so," he added, registering that she couldn't see his shrug.

"I don't suppose Albert would have gone upstairs if they were still here," she sighed, resting her chin on her knees.

Draco nodded, once again forgetting that she couldn't see him. Albert rested his head on his thighs and closed his eyes. Thinking of their friends made a new wave of anger swell in his chest. He didn't want to think about it.

How could the Nott-Potters have gone home at this hour? Had they left a note? Would they be back the next day? He didn't want to think about it anymore.

"I want to make something special for breakfast tomorrow morning," he said, in an attempt to distract his mind and his growing anger.

Hermione almost forgot it was Christmas.

"What?" she asked, intrigued.

"Well–To be honest, I was counting on you to tell me what you wanted," he admitted while running a hand through his hair.

What she wanted? Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken as she heard this. How long had it been since she'd been asked what she wanted?

She had no bloody idea what she could possibly want!

Noting that she didn't answer, Draco chided himself. Had he said something inappropriate? Maybe she didn't want anything? Or maybe she didn't want anything from him?

"Forget it," he resumed after a long silence. "I–"

"No!" She cut him off sharply. "No, no, I'll figure something out."

He smiled, the panic in her voice at the thought of him changing his mind warming her heart.

"Crepes! Yes, crepes! My grandfather used to make them when I was a kid!"

She pronounced it with an English accent that left a lot to be desired. Draco had to think twice before he understood what she was talking about.

"Crêpes?" he repeated in a perfect French accent.

She winced.

"Yes, yes, crêpes," she repeated, trying to imitate his pronunciation.

"For Christmas? Crêpes for Christmas?"

"Why not?" she replied with a shrug.

He laughed, that clear, gentle laugh. How many was that now?

"Okay, I'll make some crêpes."

She smiled and snuggled closer to the door, resting her ear against the wood and closing her eyes.

"Thank you, Draco," she whispered.

And he knew she wasn't just thanking him for the crêpes. It warmed his heart more than he could have imagined. Because it was simple. Because it was natural.

And because, for the first time, he felt he'd found an ally. A real ally. Someone who understood him and was like him. How could she judge him when she too seemed to be trying to survive after all they'd been through? How could she judge him when she too was only a fragment of what she had once been?

Yes. She was his ally now.

And that's it!
Just a reminder that I'm going to take a break from publishing for a little while. For more information on the subject, or if you'd like to know when the chapters will resume, join my Discord server, where I'll be posting updates from time to time.
See you soon, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Nova