Hermione's POV

The fire in the corner of my room crackled softly, filling the silence with its comforting warmth. I sat on the edge of the cot, the Muggle novel Draco had brought me resting in my lap. The words on the page were a welcome escape, transporting me far from the cold confines of Malfoy Manor.

But as much as I wanted to lose myself in the story, I couldn't shake the question that had been gnawing at me all day: Why?

Why had Draco brought me these books? Why had he gone out of his way to find something that would make me feel even a shred of normalcy? He said it was guilt, but I wasn't sure I believed him.

I didn't trust him. I couldn't. Not after everything he and his family had done.

The sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up just as Draco appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, his hands shoved into his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Still reading, I see," he said, his tone light.

I closed the book and set it aside, narrowing my eyes at him. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

He sighed, stepping into the room. "You really don't know how to take a gesture of goodwill, do you?"

I crossed my arms. "That's because I don't believe it's genuine."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't snap back. Instead, he pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to me—a small, familiar box.

"Peppermint toads," he said simply.

My eyes widened as I stared at the box. "Where did you get those?"

"The kitchens," he said with a shrug. "House-elves aren't exactly hard to convince."

I hesitated, unsure whether to take it.

"Go on," he said, setting the box on the table beside me. "It's not poisoned, if that's what you're worried about."

I glared at him. "That's not funny."

He smirked faintly, but there was no real humor in his eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked again, my voice quieter now. "You've never cared about me before. What's changed?"

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Maybe I'm tired of being the person my parents want me to be," he said finally.

I blinked, taken aback by the raw honesty in his voice.

"You don't have to trust me," he continued, looking back up at me. "I wouldn't, if I were you. But I'm not like them. Not anymore."

The vulnerability in his expression was startling, and for a moment, I didn't know what to say.

"I still don't trust you," I said softly, though my tone lacked its usual bite.

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Fair enough."

He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway.

"Granger," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "You don't have to let them win, you know. No matter what my father or my mother says. You're stronger than this place."

Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me alone with the peppermint toads and a whirlwind of emotions I didn't know how to process.

Draco's POV

I leaned against the wall in the hallway, my heart pounding in a way that made no sense. I didn't know why I kept going to her room, why I kept trying to get through to her. She was right not to trust me. I'd spent years making her life hell, standing by while my family did worse.

But seeing her now—quiet, subdued, nothing like the girl I remembered from Hogwarts—it made me feel something I couldn't name.

I didn't want to be like my father. I didn't want to be the person she thought I was.

And maybe, just maybe, helping her was my way of proving to myself that I wasn't.

For now, that would have to be enough.

Hermione's POV

The sound of Narcissa Malfoy's voice echoed through the halls of the manor, sharp and authoritative. From the kitchen, I could hear her giving instructions to the house-elves who had been scurrying about since dawn. I had learned to brace myself whenever she was in this kind of mood—calm on the surface but radiating a barely concealed impatience that promised trouble for anyone who displeased her.

I kept my head down, scrubbing the already spotless marble countertop. The enchanted cuffs around my wrists glowed faintly, a reminder of my position here. It had been days since Draco's strange gesture with the books and the peppermint toads. I still didn't know what to make of him, but I didn't have the mental energy to dwell on it.

"Granger!" Narcissa's clipped tone cut through my thoughts, making me flinch.

I turned to see her standing in the doorway, her elegant robes flowing as she surveyed the room with an air of command. Her gaze landed on me, cold and assessing.

"Come here," she ordered.

I wiped my hands on my apron and approached cautiously, my heart sinking.

"There is an event being held at the manor tomorrow evening," she said, her voice smooth but laced with steel. "A gathering of important figures from the Ministry and the remaining influential families. Everything must be perfect."

I didn't respond, knowing she wasn't finished.

"You will be serving the guests," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched me for a reaction. "You and a small number of house-elves I've hired for the occasion."

My stomach turned, but I kept my face neutral. The idea of being paraded around like a servant in front of a room full of Purebloods made my skin crawl, but I knew better than to voice my discomfort.

"Yes, ma'am," I said quietly.

"Good," she said, turning back toward the door. "You will wear appropriate attire. The elves will handle the heavier work, but I expect you to be attentive and efficient. Do not embarrass this household, Miss Granger."

I bit back a bitter laugh. As if I had any choice in the matter.

"Of course," I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, as if searching for a hint of defiance. When she found none, she gave a small nod and swept out of the room, her heels clicking against the floor.

Draco's POV

I caught my mother in the hallway as she was leaving the kitchen, her usual air of icy composure firmly in place.

"Mother," I called, stepping into her path.

She paused, raising a perfectly arched brow. "Draco. What is it?"

"I heard you're planning an event," I said, keeping my tone casual.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Yes. A gathering of select individuals from the Ministry and our social circle. It's crucial for maintaining our family's reputation."

"And you're having Granger serve the guests?" I asked, the words coming out more sharply than I intended.

Her smile faded slightly, her expression hardening. "She is here to work, Draco. It is a perfectly reasonable request. Or do you have a problem with it?"

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. "No," I said, though the word tasted bitter. "I just think it's unnecessary. The house-elves can handle it."

She tilted her head, studying me with a cool, calculating gaze. "She will do as she's told," she said firmly. "It's good for her to remember her place. And it's good for the guests to see that the Malfoys are capable of… adapting to the new order of things."

My stomach churned, but I knew better than to argue.

"Fine," I said curtly, stepping aside as she continued down the hall.

I turned and headed toward the servants' quarters, my mind racing.

I found Hermione sitting on her cot, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She didn't look up as I entered, her shoulders hunched in that way they always were these days.

"I heard about the event," I said, leaning against the doorframe.

She glanced at me briefly, her expression guarded. "What about it?"

"My mother shouldn't have asked you to serve," I said, crossing my arms. "The elves can handle it."

She let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. "That's kind of you to say, Malfoy, but it doesn't change anything. Your mother doesn't care what's fair, and neither does anyone else in this house."

I frowned, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. "You don't have to let them treat you like this," I said quietly.

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could have cut glass. "And what, exactly, am I supposed to do about it? Refuse? Run away? You know as well as I do that's not an option."

Her words stung, but I knew she was right.

"Just… don't let them break you," I said finally, my voice softer. "Not completely."

She didn't respond, but her expression shifted ever so slightly. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—hope, maybe, or determination. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

I turned to leave, but before I stepped out the door, I glanced back at her.

"I'll be there tomorrow," I said. "If anything happens, if anyone gives you trouble… I'll deal with it."

Her eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in days, I saw a glimmer of the Hermione Granger I used to know.

"Why do you care, Malfoy?" she asked softly.

I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Maybe I'm just tired of seeing them win," I said finally, before walking out of the room.

But deep down, I knew it was more than that. And I wasn't sure I was ready to admit it—not to her, and not to myself.