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Draco sank down against a large oak tree on the Hogwarts grounds. The air was beginning to cool with the first few days of September, and he took a moment to look up at the repaired castle. It had taken them an extra week, so the Hogwarts Express had been forced to make its journey on September 6th. There were patches of new walls and fresh shingles where it was obvious that repairs had been made, but it still felt like home. A home that he had destroyed. It was all his fault.
A few excited First Years scampered past him, freshly sorted the previous night, to spend their last free day before classes by exploring the grounds and heading to the Black Lake to see if the stories of the Giant Squid were true. He was glad they couldn’t see him. He didn’t think he could take any more looks. They varied from disgusted, pitying, curious, to worried. He didn’t know which one was the worst.
Disillusionment charms were easy after over a year of using them. They came in handy when it came to hiding in the Manor from Death Eaters who couldn’t detect them easily, surreptitiously hiding younger students during the Carrows’ reign of terror the previous year, and walking around Hogwarts to avoid any trouble.
His headache was starting to grow. It had been so painful last night that he was forced to take a vial of dreamless potion just to get to sleep. Being back, surrounded by memories, was wearing down his occlumency shields. He needed to readjust them before classes started if he hoped to earn any NEWTS.
Making sure he was safely disillusioned, Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Everything went away as he methodically began to take down his shields. He started with the ones from this summer, with his trial and all of his memories on display regarding the circumstances of the night he got his Dark Mark and the night Dumbledore was murdered. Once they were gone, he fought the urge to open his eyes against the torrent of emotion that flooded him. At least his headache was beginning to ease.
The next shields to go were the ones around the war. The memories of being forced to take the Dark Mark to save his mother, the numerous times he was put under the cruciatus, the many times he was forced to watch others be tortured and killed, and the rare instances he had been forced to partake in the suffering of others. He could feel a cold sweat break out, but he kept his eyes closed as the shield fell away.
The last wall he had left had been in place since his Fourth Year. Well, the first version had been. This wall had been carefully patched back together after it had exploded that fateful night at the Manor. He forced his racing heartbeat to calm down and slowly began to take the wall apart from the top. The memories filtered into his mind, and he relaxed as he felt their familiar presence finally fall back into place from where he had stored them in the dark recesses of his mind.
Granger speaking up for him at his trial with shaking hands but a determined and furious look in her eyes when she had heard that Azkaban was an option.
Granger crying out for Potter when everyone had thought all hope had been lost. There was a cut on her cheek and her hair had dust and debris clinging to it. He had been so tempted to run over to her.
Granger screaming unendingly under his aunt’s wand and knife with tears streaming down her face. His nails had dug into the palms of his hands and drew blood as he clenched them while his occlumency shields were breaking apart. He couldn’t do anything to help her without getting all of them killed.
The image of a library book on charms he had found while working on a paper his Sixth Year came next. The last person to have checked it out had been Granger two years prior. A loose piece of parchment slipped out with a drawing of a galleon and her handwriting sprawled across the page. She had written extensive notes on the Protean Charm. While he had used it for other purposes, he had carefully folded up her words and tucked them back into the book’s old pages.
Granger staring across the Great Hall at him with a look of worry in her eyes. He hadn’t eaten anything for the past couple days, and it had been passing out in the Room of Hidden Things in front of the damned Vanishing Cabinet that had made him go to lunch that day. The green apple in his hand trembled as he realized she was looking straight at him.
Granger’s voice introducing herself to Slughorn after she had identified the potions filtered through the haze in his mind. He had been trying to focus on the first course of action concerning the Vanishing Cabinet, but it was hard to think with the scent of old books, apple pie, fresh broomstick polish, and the overwhelming smell of vanilla flooding the classroom. How was he supposed to focus on killing his Headmaster when he couldn’t even think in his Potions class? Then he heard Granger say the word Amortentia and he froze. Now he had to somehow hide scents behind his occlumency shields? He was doomed.
Granger struggling against Millicent’s hold as she said something about Dumbledore’s secret weapon. He could see her mind working to get them out of the situation, but he stayed silent. He was closer to her than he had been in years, and he could smell the faint scent of vanilla under the cloying perfume Umbridge used.
Granger studying in the library, feet neatly tucked under her chair and a mountain of books piled around her. Her parchment was well past any reasonable limit assigned by their professors, but her quill continued to move and her fingers were becoming stained in ink. A loose curl had escaped her ponytail, and he wondered what it would be like if he curled his finger around it.
Granger crying in the stands as everyone stared in horror at Cedric Diggory’s body. Draco had been close enough to hear Potter say something about Voldemort’s back and had almost choked. He needed to forget everything he had ever thought about Granger except for the times he had called her names. If Voldemort was back, a lot of things were going to change.
Granger spinning in her periwinkle dress and holding onto the arm of one Viktor Krum. Pansy was talking to him in her annoyingly shrill tone, but he just hummed and watched her dance. She was shockingly good at it, and it was as if she had been born to wear that dress and elegantly twirl as the belle of the ball. She was smiling, and he realized it was a rare sight. It was a larger smile than the one he had seen earlier that year. A smile that he had wished he could see again.
Granger hounding the other Gryffindors in the hallway as he made his way to class. She had been balancing an enormous bag and a small box with a few sad sickles rattling about. “Don’t you think slavery is wrong? With S.P.E.W, we can overturn this injustice,” she announced. Something flew out as she continued her tirade in front of him, and he bent down to pick it up. It was a small badge with S.P.E.W stamped across the front. He wondered what she had been screaming about, and stuffed the badge in his bag before his friends caught up to him.
Granger had been lounging by her favorite beech tree on the Hogwarts grounds the day before classes were due to start in Fourth Year. Her curls fluttered in the breeze, as she laughed sitting next to the Weaselette. Her posture was relaxed and much of the stress that seemed to occupy every moment of her school career had disappeared. Draco had been struck by how carefree this Granger had been. The smile on her face made it stunningly obvious how beautiful she was. He realized he was staring and made his way back towards the castle, throwing the image behind walls his mother had suggested practicing before coming to school. After his father had mentioned some of the old crowd seeming to gather, the last thing he needed was to be interested in Potter’s mudblood.
With the last of the wall gone, his mind was fully open and occlumency free. Beyond that night in the Manor, it had been years since he had fully stopped occluding. This was the first time he had left his mind unguarded willingly since that first day in Fourth Year.
Opening his eyes, he looked over to the beech tree in that first memory and froze. It was as if he had magically taken her from his mind and placed her in the exact spot that he had first noticed her. He swallowed as he watched her turn a page of her book and a soft grin appear on her face. There was no Weaselette with her this time.
His mind was racing, but he didn’t have the energy to try and pull his walls back into place again. Then the words of the Ministry-mandated Mind-Healer who had seen him after his trials filtered into his mind.
Mind-Healer Young had been assigned to him once the Ministry realized exactly how much the war had damaged him after everything had come out in the trials. Luckily, Draco had been unconscious while the old man did his work, but he had been forced to answer a few questions. In their last session, just as Draco had stood up to leave, the old man gave him a sad smile.
“Draco, you do know that people are forgiving you for everything you did.”
He had scoffed and straightened his robes. “No, they aren’t. And they shouldn’t. I don’t want their forgiveness, and nothing I did in the past few years is forgivable.”
The old man just shook his head. “You were surviving under extremely difficult circumstances. However, the first thing you need to do to heal is to forgive yourself. You’re being much too hard on yourself.”
Draco closed his eyes. “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen."
He didn’t need anyone to forgive him. He didn’t want their pity or their empathy. He didn’t want to have people just ignore what he did. He could survive with their hate and anger. The repairs to Hogwarts showed that he had started all of this. It had been his fault.
Looking at the girl sitting by the beech tree, Draco frowned. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Especially not hers. But. He did want to say something to her. Of all the people, she was the one who deserved the most apologies.
Well, actually, that was Potter. But Voldemort wasn’t exactly around anymore to say sorry. But he was the only one left who could apologize to her. For everything he and his family had done to her.
His feet were moving before his mind had caught up, and he found himself standing a few feet away front of her. Draco froze as she looked up from her book, but she simply closed her eyes. Right, he was still disillusioned. He silently removed the spell, and looked at her serene face.
She was even more beautiful than he remembered. While she was relaxed, there was something in her posture that showed her confidence, which she hadn’t had since the first day of Hogwarts. Her hair fell in loose curls over her shoulders, and he wondered again what it would be like to wrap his finger around one of the loose strands. Her eyelashes were fluttering, and he remembered belatedly that all of his occlumency shields were gone.
He had just begun to panic and was about to walk away when she opened her eyes. Caramel eyes blinked at knees in confusion before they slid up his body to meet his own. There was surprise and curiosity, but no wariness. That was surprising.
Squashing down the small amount of hope that was curling in his mind, Draco wet his lips. “Hello Granger,” he murmured, “I wanted to apologize. I wanted to apologize for everything. I’m sorry for laughing at you in our first Potions lesson when you raised your hand so high it nearly touched the ceiling when Potter couldn’t answer the difficult questions being thrown at him.”
He focused on her eyes that were growing wider as he made his way through more memories that came to mind of all the horrible things he had done to her as an immature child, from casting spells at her to calling her that horrible slur, to his more serious grievances in his teen years. He knew he was rambling about instances that he wasn’t even sure if she remembered, and he didn’t know if he was doing this correctly because he hadn’t apologized to anyone in a long time. At least not an apology that was working through seven years of torment. And even if she didn’t remember everything, he did.
Draco continued to speak, focusing on every moment he had worried about and agonized over in his mind. The ones that were worn down by the amount of time they had stayed in his mind and from being picked over by the Dark Lord and his aunt. He ignored the ones that were shiny and untainted from being protected by his occlumency shields. His voice was starting to grow hoarse, as he hadn’t spoken this much in ages, but he continued on.
Her eyes were focused on his as he spoke and he didn’t dare close his eyes. He took a breath before he said the last two apologies he needed to tell her. The last two apologies she deserved.
“And I’m sorry about that horrible night in my house. I didn’t do anything to help you, and I just stood there while she tortured you and cut into your arm. The entire wing of the house is closed off, but I could still hear your screams for days afterwards. I should have done something, anything. I really should have.”
He swallowed as his mouth dried again. “Granger, I’m so sorry about everything that has happened to you since you found out you were a witch. Everything that happened in the last year was my fault, and I’ve done such terrible things that led to so much suffering that I’m sure I’m not even aware of. I know this doesn’t help anything, but you of all people deserve my apologies, and I’ve done a horrible job of it, but I hope it brings you a small amount of peace.” He trailed off and pressed his lips together before he said anything else beyond an apology.
Granger blinked at him with her mouth agape, but she quickly closed her mouth and tilted her head a little. “Thank you, Malfoy. I forgive you. For all of it,” she murmured.
Draco opened his mouth. That wasn’t what he was asking for. That wasn’t why he had come up to her. He didn’t want or deserve her forgiveness. Or maybe he was about to blurt out the shiny memories of her he had just spent the past hour unraveling in his mind. Neither would do. He managed to catch whatever words were about to escape and simply nodded before turning on his heel and making his way towards the castle. He disillusioned himself as soon as he knew she couldn’t see him anymore.
His headache was back, but he had a feeling it was from not eating all day instead of the state of his mind. He felt lighter, but he couldn’t tell if it was because a weight had been lifted from his chest or if it was because his breath was coming out in sharp gasps. He cancelled his spell in front of the Slytherin Common Room Entrance and slipped inside. Daphne Greengrass had entered a bit before him, and she gave him a nod before she continued to the girl’s dormitory.
He debated calling after her but decided not to. There was no need to cause more trouble today.
Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he entered his room. Blaise and Theo were the only ones to come back for Eighth Year, and the two were lounging on a bed playing chess. Blaise looked up with a grin. “Did you fix your head?”
Still unused to having all of his emotions and memories in his mind, Draco couldn’t stop the words that escaped him. “I talked to her.”
His friends’ jaws dropped and Blaise knocked over the chessboard, although Draco had noticed he was losing. The handsome Italian bounced uncharacteristically on the bed and his eyes lit up. “What about? Did you kiss her?”
He frowned and sat on his bed. “No, Blaise. I apologized.”
Theo raised an eyebrow as he used his wand to summon the pieces Blaise had flung on the floor. “For the war?”
He shrugged. “I think it was for the past seven years.”
“Well, that’s a start,” drawled Blaise. “What did she say?”
Draco felt his headache grow. “She forgave me.”
Grinning, Blaise got up and stretched. “This is great. You’ll finally get your Golden Girl this year and Theo can get his girl back.”
Their other friend stiffened and stood up to put the board away. “No. She won’t forgive me, and I don’t want to put her through the pain. At least Granger’s already survived the worst, but Daphne escaped unscathed and she’s going to be devastated. Plus, Draco never broke Granger’s heart. And I think that’s just as bad as a cruciatus.”
Blaise groaned, “You two are ridiculous. Maybe I was better off not knowing about your complicated love lives. I still can’t believe you’ve hidden your infatuation with Granger for the past four years,” he muttered to Draco before whirling to look at Theo. “And you, I still can’t believe you fooled all of us in Sixth Year. If I hadn’t gotten you two drunk this summer, were you just going to keep all of this to yourself forever?”
Theo glanced over before nodding. Draco fell back onto his bed and ignored Blaise continuing to talk about the horrendous love lives of his friends. He closed his eyes and began to rebuild the walls he had taken down. If this was what happened when he lowered them, he needed to make sure he didn’t slip up again.
The next morning, Draco saw his face on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Well, a small picture of him while a large photo of the Golden Trio at Platform 9 and 3 quarters took up most of the paper. He knew that the small article next to his face would be about his trial again. Apparently knowing he had been forced to take the Dark Mark, allowing the Wizengamot to see his memories, and hearing Potter and Granger speak up for him at his trial was enough to have the paper forgive him enough to cast a sympathetic light on his trial on slow news days. He still got dirty looks wherever he went though.
Turning away, Draco took in the hall of students in fresh uniforms waiting for their timetables. He was in complete control and had fully occluded again last night. His Malfoy mask was perfectly in place, and no one would see any emotional outbursts from him. Then he saw her looking at him from the Gryffindor table.
Granger’s eyes met his with a curious look. Draco gave her a small nod and went back to his breakfast.
That hadn’t been too hard. He could survive a year being civil to everyone and avoiding her as long as he had his walls in place. And he wasn’t going to let them slip anytime soon.