Clang. Clang. Clang…

The Azkaban bells thundered proclaiming the crack of dawn. The guards started their everyday ritual of waking up all the prisoners so that they could be lined up for breakfast.

Since the downfall of You-Know-Who, Azkaban had become a livable place, thanks to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the present Minister of Magic. The first thing he had done after he was sworn-in was to abolish the nameless horrors of the wizarding prison, more commonly referred to as the Dementors. He had supervised the formation of a new Wizards’ Crime Branch and had personally assisted them to formulate new laws regarding the prison system.

In spite of all this, a prison always remains a prison.

A dreary place where you are locked away from the outer world. A place where you lose your identity and are reduced to a mere number. A place where every day felt like hell, every minute like a lifetime, every step a mile and every meal merely a mode of sustenance.

Those were the exact thoughts that invaded his mind every morning the guards came to wake him up: banging on his prison rails with heavy iron sticks and hurling insults of every kind.

Today was no exception.

He had been lying awake since midnight as usual waiting for the guard to come and supposedly wake him up. He was now accustomed to this morning ritual. He loved the way in which he tricked them. It was a small game which entertained him daily.

“They think that I am asleep and they are the ones to wake me up,� he murmured and that very thought made him sneer. He felt that he was superior to them in this regard. They had no idea that they were being fooled everyday. The thought instilled in him a sense of accomplishment and made him marvel at this remarkable feat.

These petty occasions were the only ones which amused him nowadays. Otherwise his life was lonely. His life was void. His life was empty…

“Wake up!�

He was jolted out of his reverie by the yelling guard. With smug satisfaction, he pulled himself up from his bunk and left his cell (if you could call that cubbyhole so) to join his prison mates for breakfast.

Breakfast.

The mere audacity of the prison officials to call the rubbish they served so made him sick to the stomach. He wouldn’t have offered that kind of food to even his house elves during his old days.

The good old days…

The memory of those days filled him with a great longing. How he wished he could live his old lifestyle again. How he missed his comfortable bed, his luxurious bath, his lavish house, his scented gardens, his mother, her…

Her…

It had been months since he had last seen her. Since he had held her for the last time.

She had been looking radiant in a simple white shirt and navy blue jeans. He still remembered the most minute details of the day. How her soft brown hair had been billowing in the wind. How she had held his hand and promised to stay by his side always. How she hadn’t let a single tear escape her eyes even though he had wept openly. How she had breathed her last in his very arms just because he had been powerless to save her and foolish enough to believe the Dark Lord.

“I will always be around you,� she had managed in a voice so feeble that he had to lean towards her to make out what she was saying, “I want you to remember that you are the truest friend I ever had.�

“No,� he had wanted to scream aloud until he was hoarse but instead he could only stare at her beautiful face and shed unstoppable tears.

Only he knew how much he wanted to tell her that she was more than just a friend for him but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“Come on, you prat. Leave the girl. Surely you can find another. But there is only one Dark Lord,� his father had snuck up behind him and roughly shove him off her.

He had screamed, threatened, cursed and even begged his father to let him go and meet her for one last time: gather her in his arms and inhale the scent of her sweet smelling hair but his cruel father hadn’t yielded to his pleas.

That was the day he had sworn revenge.

Revenge on all the people who had taken her away from him.

His father, his aunt, his master…

“Hey you, 33006,� a guard poked him in the ribs, “Get going. Just don’t stand there. Others want to eat too.�

Another guard pushed him forward and he fell on his knees scraping them badly on the cold stone floor.

“He is bleeding, you dolt,� an official scolded the guard who had pushed him; “The Minister will kill us if he comes to know that a prisoner was physically tortured.�

“I didn’t do it purposefully,� the convict replied, his face ashen, “Besides; he isn’t being physically tortured.�

Ignoring him, the official rushed towards the fallen man and helped him to a nearby chair.

“Are you hurt?� he asked, concern etched upon his face.

“Concern? Fear more likely,� the prisoner thought and chuckled slightly.

“Are you hurt?� the official repeated raising his voice.

He shook his head in the negative partially because he wanted to get rid of the man but partially because he had experienced worse.

He ate his porridge with disgust, mentally conjuring up images of sumptuous meals he had enjoyed with her and smiled inwardly at the memory.

He finished up as soon as humanly possible and returned to the sanctuary of his cell. It was one place devoid of any human company. It had become a cocoon for him to hide from his miseries and safeguard his memories.

Memories were all he had now and he didn’t want to let them dissipate. Already he had started to forget his first meeting with her and that was frightening him and driving him insane both at the same time.

Suddenly there were footsteps outside his cell and a seemingly bored guard appeared and announced that he had a visitor.

He hadn’t had a visitor since he was thrown into this cubbyhole by Potter and his kind. It had been made sure that he was one of the top priority prisoners which meant no visitors and no letters.

The guard called out again and cursed under his breath which echoed in the drab atmosphere.

Puzzled and afraid, Draco got up and followed him. He was led to a small room where there was a small wooden table in the center with two chairs on either side of it.

“Just go through the door at the far end and you will find her waiting,� the guard recited in a monotone and left before Draco could even open his mouth.

“Her?� he wondered aloud.

Overcome by curiosity he let his inhibitions down and proceeded towards the prescribed door.
He was surprised to find his hands shaking and sweat beads rolling off his forehead in spite of the chilly atmosphere. Gathering his courage and telling himself not to be so stupid, he pushed open the heavy oak door.

The first sight that met his eyes was of a white cotton summer dress fluttering due to the wind and chocolate brown curls dancing in the air.

She was standing with her back to him gazing out of the large window at the lush green meadows beyond.

He coughed lightly to make his presence known.

“Hello, Brooder,� she said in a voice as sweet as honey but which was also frighteningly familiar, “Long time no see.�

He was horrorstruck. It couldn’t be... She couldn’t be…

“You…how…?� he stuttered.

“Sit down, Brooder. I have a lot to tell you,� she said in a placid voice and finally turned to look him in the eye.

He suddenly felt weak in the knees and wanted to sit down. Grabbing the chestnut chair waiting by the door, he sank into it.

He looked at her. Those were the same eyes that he had seen the light leave. The same face whose outlines he had wanted to trace but couldn’t because of his father. That was the same girl that had taught him how to live and lighted up his life. The girl who showed him how to laugh. The girl who helped him love…

He couldn’t believe his eyes but how couldn’t he? Wasn’t that the moment he had been wishing to come true? Wasn’t that what he dreamt every night since that fateful day?

How much he wanted to talk to her. To tell her how much he loved her, what she meant to him, how ecstatic he was to see her…

He opened his mouth but was horrified when a single word escaped his parched lips, “Granger?�

---

Six months earlier…

He looked around himself hoping to see a friendly face. But all his tired eyes perceived were fiends. He looked around hoping to find a little comfort, but all he found was hatred and malice. He looked around with hope etched on his aristocratic features but soon sank back in his seat, disappointment writ large on his haggard face.

“Why should I curse them?� he thought drearily, “When my own heart is cursing me day and night.�

He had spent every single day since his imprisonment cursing his fate. He knew that he had been an idiot to risk her life. His tears had all dried up and all he could do was conjure up beautiful images of what would have happened if he had been more sensible.

For a long time, he had been planning to express his true feelings to her. He had hoped that she would reciprocate his feelings. He had wished that she wouldn’t be surprised or offended. He had prayed that it wouldn’t damage their friendship.

Her friendship…

That had been the sole reason why he had kept pushing his emotions at the back of his head. She had been there for him when no one had trusted him. His own kind had labeled him as a persona non grata and left him to rot in the streets.

It was then that she had shown compassion and benevolence towards the one who had tormented her throughout their childhood. She had helped him during his time of need and salvaged his blemished soul. She had assisted him in his reformation and stood for him against all odds.

"The damsel in shining armour saving a knight in distress,� he chuckled slightly at the thought.

In the beginning he had been immensely surprised when he had discovered his true feelings for her. He never knew when his hatred towards Muggle-borns dissipated and paved the way for acceptance. He never knew how he changed from a haughty and pompous being to a humble and polite one.

All he knew was that he had transformed from a beast to a human; courtesy of a particular beauty.

He was in love.

That was something new for him.

Since his childhood, his father had raised him to be cold and cruel. His calculating mind had taught him to stay away from such destructive emotions. He had been taught that nothing had ever been achieved by those who let their hearts take over their brains. Love and friendship only resulted in pain and made one mentally weak. They drained one emotionally, eventually rending him powerless in the hands of his own core.

“Only fools fall in love,� his father used to tell him. “Always remember, son, only those who control their emotions can ever be triumphant. Others succumb to their broken hearts.�

And he knew that he was indeed a fool.

A fool to have believed his father. A fool to have let his mind override his heart. A fool to have let the love of his life die before his own eyes.

The day she had entered his life she had altered his perspective towards his very existence. She had taught him the meaning of friendship. She had stayed by his side constantly encouraging him, motivating him and inspiring him to dig out his true self from within the numerous layers of malice and contempt.

Even he never found out when he fell for her.

However one fateful day changed it all. The plan his master had formulated had safeguarded her security and well being but it was just a hoax. They had offered her as the bait for his support and he had gladly jumped at the proposal.

But he knew that what was done was done.

Her demise had awakened his cold and calculating self and rekindled the dark flames of his soul. He was filled with a desire to make her true killers suffer as much as humanly possible. Only one word occupied his mind every living moment: vengeance.

And he knew that he would have it.

The only thing he wanted the most in the world had been mercilessly snatched away from him and he was determined to make the culprits pay.

But he had no idea how.

Suddenly the bailiff announced the arrival of the Minister for Magic putting an end to his musings.

All the members of the Wizengamot and the other spectators stood up in the Minister’s honour, except him.

“How can I with these chains binding me to this awful chair?� he thought drily.

The Minister and his subordinates began their ordeals. But he preferred to shut them out and let his thoughts drift away to her.

He was so engrossed in her memories that the Minister had to call out his name twice. When he finally had his attention he spoke up, “Mr Draco Malfoy, as per our records, you are here to await trial for the murder of Miss Hermione Granger committed on the 20th day of June. Am I right?�

Draco nodded his head resignedly.

“If only they knew what she meant to me, they would never have convicted me of her murder,� he murmured chancing a glance at Potter and Weasley.

Both former Gryffindors showered him with death glares in response.

“And the convict has pleaded not guilty?� he asked.

Draco again nodded in response.

“Bail denied,� the Minister said curtly. “You are being sentenced to life imprisonment under our ‘top priority prisoners scheme’ as you have been charged with murdering a member of the Order. Next case to be presented,� he ordered the bailiff.

Draco was shocked beyond words. He hadn’t been given a single chance to say anything in his defense. He looked around himself just to find his two former classmates sneering at him.

“But I am innoce…� he started but could never finish as he was handcuffed by two stolid guards and manhandled out of the courtroom.

“What a reformed prison system this is,� he shouted behind his back, the trademark ‘Malfoy smirk’ creeping in its place. “I had been given every chance to defend myself. I had full liberty to express my opinions. I had…�

Soon his voice faded away in the dark along with its owner.

The Wizengamot proceeded towards the next case: that of Avery for the murder of Neville Longbottom.

All his pleas as well as his sarcasm had fallen on deaf ears.

---

Hours seemed like days and days seemed like years. Weeks were ages. But Draco Malfoy was numb to his surroundings.

His ‘trial’ (he hated to call it that) had been anything but fair. Before his scheduled trial, he had been pretty confident that he would be released. Once they knew of his true feelings, he would be given a clean chit.

“They would lead me out like a king,� he had assured himself, “and seek my forgiveness as if their very lives depended on it. And I, like a lovesick warrior, would gallantly accept their apologies.�

“Wonder what the two dunderheads will say knowing that their little best friend was fraternizing with the enemy,� he chuckled at the thought.

He had started conjuring up images of a thoroughly pissed off Potter and a similarly stymied Weasley fuming with rage, with matching red faces and clenched fists.

He was fully prepared with his ‘plea speech’. He had decided that he would confess his true feelings to the world (“Let Potter and Weasley and my parents go to hell�) and he would tell them about all the good times they had had.

The night walks, the secret rendezvous, the Christmas party, the day he had come so close to revealing his feelings to her…

All he needed was a Pensieve. He had decided which thoughts he would make them see, which moments they would be permitted to intrude, which instances he will allow them to scrounge.

He was even thinking of volunteering for a bout of Veritaserum if they still questioned his sincerity.

In short, he was ready for anything.

Anything but what had actually happened…

All of his elaborate plans had gone down the drain the moment the Minister had given his verdict without as much as a glance at him.

This was certainly not what he had expected.

---

After he was literally thrown out of the courtroom and into the prison cell, he had finally cracked.

For days all he could do was curse and curse some more.

His life was hell and everyone around him the living images of the devil.

He screamed till the guards came and beat him up to make him shut up. He used to call them names and curse them till he was sore. He gave up eating and drinking. He smashed the utensils they brought him. He punched the walls and the rails of his prison till he felt dizzy with the blood loss.

His nights were even worse. The nightmares hounded him like merciless devils and elicited more screams from him till he passed out with fatigue, fear and fury.

On days when he was drained and relatively somber, he would beg the prison healer to kill him.

“A simple potion, Healer Grant,� he would plead.

The healer would shake his head and keep on bandaging useless parts. He would start with pleading, then begging, followed by threatening and finally wild thrashing.

At that point, the healer would signal his attendant who would force a Calming Draught through his lips which would knock him out cold for a couple of days.



Gradually, he realized the grim truth: they were not going to let him die: they were going to make him suffer as much as humanly possible. They were going to make him pay for killing one of their ‘Precious Three’. They were going to make him lose his sanity (or whatever was left of it) while they sit back and enjoy his downfall.

This realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.

At the same time, it changed his perspective.

He remembered his mission. He remembered his desire for revenge. He remembered not her murder but her laughter.

And he began his transformation.

---

The prison guards were both astonished and relieved at this sudden shift in his behavior. For the first time in about a month he willingly ate up the food they served him.

Or rather devoured it.

He stopped screaming and cursing all those around him. He stopped begging for death. When Healer Grant came for his weekly visit, he politely asked for some energizing potions. He began sleeping peacefully without any sign of nightmares.

Seeing his improvement, he was soon granted permission to use the prison gymnasium and go for walks in the prison park. He began spending time in the prison library and started making casual acquaintances.



The most striking feature of his reformation was his affinity to the newest arrivals. He would seek them out, chat them up, soothe them and make them as comfortable as he could.

But after a couple of weeks, he would completely forget about them and ignore them like the garden bug.

The prison officials couldn’t care less. They were just happy because their ‘top priority prisoner’ was well and about and as far as they could tell, he was not going to die on them anytime in the near future.

---

But unbeknownst to the lowly guards and the lazy officials, the conniving self of Draco Malfoy was planning…

---

Information was what Draco Malfoy craved for.

It was also what he received.

Listening to the endless prison gossip was no pastime of his. Another time and he would have sent a Silencio towards all these people or Crucio-ed them if they so much as opened their damned mouths. Who thought captors and captives shared a deep bond over useless gossip of the outer world?

Whenever any new prisoner was admitted, the others pounced on him like hungry wolves for the latest news regarding the outer world. Draco despised this behaviour as much as he despised their uncouth appearances.

But with time everything changes.

After a month and a half Draco Malfoy was one of them.

But heaven knows that there is nothing a Malfoy does without an ulterior motive or sound reason.

For Draco, his burning soul was reason enough.

His blemished heart was burning with hatred, burning with love, burning with acceptance but most of all burning with revenge.

And as they say, revenge is the sweetest sin...




The day arrived sooner that he had expected.

The day he was going to break out from this hell and avenge her.

And that was the only thing that kept him going.

As soon as the morning bell rang for breakfast, Draco smiled to himself. That was the last day he was going to stay in this godforsaken place.

“Wake up, you moron,� a guard shouted clanging his baton hard against his cell bars, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Just another day, you git,� Draco murmured under his breath.

Draco’s cell was located in the south wing of the Azkaban. It was the solitary confinement wing where the top-priority prisoners were kept. There were only two other cells in this part of the prison. One was occupied by Michael Crater, an old rebel who had fought on Grindelwald’s side long ago. Once a savage killer and a master planner, he was now a bundle of nerves. The chilly weather and the Dementors’ kisses had sucked out his sadism. He seldom spoke; when he did, it was utter gibberish. After three unsuccessful attempts to pry out information from him, Draco had given up. He had not talked to him since.

It was the inmate of the second cell that interested him the most. He had been shifted from the general ward to the cell shortly before Draco had been imprisoned. The guards called him ‘The Fool Breaker’. This was because of the simple reason that he had tried to break out of Azkaban on the very day that Kingsley Shacklebolt had made his first prison visit. It was a foolish act, as the security of the day had been three times tighter. Naturally he had failed and as an added precaution, he was transferred to the south wing.

Draco had been fascinated by him the very first day they met and had been his admirer since. Steelheart, as he called himself, had a very interesting pastime. He had confided in Draco that breaking out had never been his intent.

“Why give up the roof and meals, laddie?� he had said with a toothy grin. “I jus’ like to keep them baboons on their toes. Jus’ love it when they get smacked in their faces. The day the Minister of Magic came for his inspection and I ran away, them all got a blow they badly needed. The Minister told them off nicely.�

He had been sentenced because of petty thievery and conning. He was the one who taught Draco the sleight of hand: nicking pockets and vanishing objects using wandless magic.

“This art may come handy in your mission, laddie,� he told him again and again.

But the thing that Draco admired the most in him was his wit and humour. The prison walls had been unable to crush his heartiness, which was very much infectious. During the meals and recreation breaks, a large crowd would gather around him to listen to his tales.

“One day the missus asked me to look after the youngest kid. But I'm no good at such stuff. You lads won’ imagine I went to the supermarket with the lad and returned with someone else’s lassie.�

With that he would break into one of his guffaws, and the whole group would crack up. These were the times that even Draco couldn’t suppress a smile.

Steelheart with his booming laugh and his wild stories (that always revolved around his wife and their five kids) and his strange dialect thus became Draco’s confidant in his plans.

Or, rather, some of his plans.




Breakfast time.

All the prisoners from the south and the east wings had gathered into the mess. As the line moved on with plates in hand, Draco could feel his anxiety rise. Steelheart, standing right behind, him squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

Suddenly he doubled over, clutching his chest and wincing in pain. The guards ran to his aid. But no one noticed the slight nod which he sent in Draco’s direction.

As if on cue, Draco ran towards the counter and grabbing a water jug, ran back there and crouched beside the ailing man.

The guards pushed him away. The head guard sent a Patronus to the infirmary and levitated the now limp body of Steelheart away. Draco followed them anxiety writ large on his face. At the infirmary, the Healers set about their business after informing that there was no danger, while the now relieved guards escorted Draco back to his cell.

In this haste and chaos, the junior Healer didn’t even notice that his wand was missing...




Draco was exhilarated. He had never imagined this would be so easy. As the cool night air whipped about his shoulder-length hair, he gripped the broomstick tighter and closed his eyes, reminiscing on how easy everything had been.

He had used the stolen wand to unlock his cell. From the recreation yard, he had summoned a Cleansweep that the prisoners were sometimes allowed to use. Flying away in the night had been a child’s play. The new defence system was lenient and weak, and this certainly proved advantageous to him.

He smirked in satisfaction feeling the rush of the cold air against his neck and face. It had been ages since he had experienced this feeling.

Freedom was certainly sweet.

Suddenly, he felt something rush past his ear. Opening his eyes he was startled to see five or six people on broomsticks close at his heels.

Panic-stricken, he guided his broom faster, trying to recall his old Seeker skills.

A jet of red light swooshed past his ear, and he decided that he had to retaliate. Blindly, he began shooting curses behind him. He was so engrossed in this assault that he did not see a man coming onto him from the front. Before he had time to react, a jet of light hit him square in the chest.

His grip on the broom loosened and he fell.

“I am going to die,� he thought, “I am going to die such a pitiful death. I will never be able to avenge her now.�

But then he realised that his momentum had decreased and when he touched the ground, he felt no pain at all.

“I've got him,� a familiar voice shouted nearby.

Draco tried hard to pinpoint it, but his consciousness was fast slipping away and made it hard for him to focus.

“Let’s see who the fool is who tried breaking out of Azkaban,� the voice jeered. Several laughs could be heard in the background.

Draco could hear a pair of feet shuffling closer. Then a pair of hands rolled him over, and a lit wand was shoved in his face.

“Malfoy?� his captor gasped.

Draco opened his eyes a crack before his eyelids drooped of their own accord.

The last thing he saw before he passed out completely was a pair of startled blue eyes and a shock of unruly red hair.

---

The blinding light was the first thing he saw as he opened his eyes. Squinting against it, he tried to take in his surroundings. But moving was not an option. All he could make out was that he was lying on a bed.

A heavenly soft bed at that.

Suddenly the curtains to the window slipped shut, mercifully cutting out the evil rays of the sun. He turned his head to thank whoever did it but what he saw forced out a yelp from him.

It was the silhouette of a girl. And it was no ordinary girl.

It was her.

Or rather someone who resembled her.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Her frizzy hair tied up in a bun and her slender figure. All were the same as the last time he had seen her. If only he could see her face...

His heart started racing, his mouth suddenly went dry. He inched up higher on the bed using the headboard as leverage. Slowly, he managed to stand up.

The silhouette started backing away. Desperately he took a step forward and WHAM!

He fell hard on the marble floor, hitting his head on the side table in the process.

The world went black again.





The next time Draco Malfoy awoke, he was met with a rare sight. On the table beside his bed, there lay a gold badge glinting in the faint light that showed from a slight crack in the curtains. On it was imprinted in large bold letters the word he had come to despise the most since the last few months.

AUROR.

“I see you are awake,� a familiar voice spoke from somewhere near him.

Draco twisted around and found himself face to face with none other than Ron Weasley.

Correction: Auror Ron Weasley.

Ron was sitting in a plush red chair placed near his bed which Draco was sure was not there when he last awoke.

Ron Weasley was much the same since the last time Draco had seen him. There was the same old freckled face and the mop of unruly red hair.

But gone was the boyish charm once associated with him and gone was the goofy attitude. To Draco, Ron Weasley looked like a better groomed version of himself.

A man with an empty core and an aching heart.

The war had taken its toll on everyone.

A flicker of empathy encased him before it was washed off by the reminder of that fateful day. Ron was one of the Aurors who had hauled him off to Azkaban.

Rage engulfed him and he was overcome by a sudden urge to speak.

“Where am I?� he demanded through clenched teeth.

“You are in my home,� Ron replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “And before you ask, you have been here since the last six days.�

Draco’s eyes widened, “Six days?� he thought.

Aloud he said, “And why is that so? I am sure you didn’t invite me to tea.�

“You tried to escape if you remember,� Ron continued.

Inspite of himself, Draco nodded in the affirmative. His headache now felt better and Draco could remember snippets of his escape... how he had gotten a broom.. how he was chased by Aurors... the flash of light... him falling... and a concerned voice which he now placed to be as Weasley’s.

“But how did I end up here?� he asked trying to sit up. “I thought they would chuck me back into that pathetic excuse of a cell.�

“I am getting to that,� Ron said suddenly getting up and forcing him back down. “But I must tell you that you had a nasty fall and are not in a condition to walk. The Healers have strictly advised against it. I will answer all your questions. But please rest.�

Draco was baffled. This was certainly weird. Weasley caring for him as though they were never arch enemies. But he didn’t have the strength to argue. So he simply fell abck and let Weasley continue. Besides, he desperately wanted to know what exactly happened that time.

“Well. Your plan was smart but you underestimated the Azkaban alarms. As soon as a prisoner escapes, a silent alarm sounds only to the on-duty Aurors and guards so as not to give the prisoner any clue that the guards are upon him. This was what exactly happened to you. We chased you and you were hit by a very powerful Stunning spell that made you fall off your broom. You got multiple bruises, your arm broke and you had a mild concussion. I thought it prudent to keep you somewhere safe so I brought you here.�

“And why do I need to be kept safe?� Draco scoffed.

“Because we have received information that some Death Eaters are looking for you. To... umm... you know... to get even with you,� Ron replied.

Draco looked up at him to retort but was shocked to see that sometime during his narrative, Ron had risen and was presently bent over a little table on his right mixing something in what looked like a small glass vial.

Unaware of Draco’s eyes on himself, Ron droned on, “Even St Mungo’s wasn’t a viable option. But don’t you fear, I have got the place protected with all sorts of wards and curses. It’s like a fortress now. No one can get you here. Oh.�

Ron turned around and jumped a little when he saw that Draco was staggering at the foot of the bed, his eyes wild and staring directly at his hand. It took Ron only a moment to realise what had caused this reaction: the potion in his hand.

“Look, Draco,� he said patronizingly, remembering to use his first name. The Healer had told him that patients reacted better to their first names than their last. It had a soothing effect on them and gave them an impression that the person addressing them was a friend. “Look, it isn’t going to hurt. It’s only to help you sleep better and save you from a severe headache.�

But Draco wasn’t listening. He started backing away into the wall, but Ron could see that the use of his given name had had the desired effect. He steadied himself and with a supreme effort, slid his trademark smirk in its place.

“You think I would believe a scumbag like you, Weasley?�

“You must have seen that you are under my care for now. And I do not mean harm. Trust me.�

Draco let out a hollow laugh, “Trust YOU? I would rather trust a goblin.�

Ron let out a sigh. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but Draco was making it all the more difficult. Taking a deep breath, he commanded, “Listen, I am asking you the last time to have this potion or else I will have to force you. Do you understand?�

Draco simply glared back at him. Both men were refusing to back down. After some time, Draco saw Ron’s eyes flash dangerously. Then it all happened in a flash.

He saw Weasley pull out his wand from his pocket and wave it once in the air. His eyes widened. But before he could do anything, he felt strong hands forcing his lips open. In no time Ron was upon him and tilting the contents of the vial in his mouth. He tried kicking and screaming but he felt as if his legs were lead blocks and his voice was gone. Once the contents of the vial were all tipped off into his mouth, Ron stepped back

“Sorry, Malfoy. There was no other way. And trust me when I say it’s for your own good.� Ron looked almost apologetic.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and Draco turned to see who was there. But all he could see was a hand reaching out to him before he fell.

---

It seemed like hours or even days later when Draco opened his eyes. He was pleasantly surprised to see that his headache had indeed subsided and was now replaced by a very mild throbbing in his temple. Running his hands on himself and flexing his muscles, he soon found out that he was perfectly fine and healthy.

Racking his brains as to his whereabouts, he slowly remembered Weasley and his potion.

“At least the git wasn’t lying,� he murmured aloud.

But the thing that nagged him was why Weasley was being so kindly to him. It startled him to see his new demeanour. Was he sincere or was this all a ploy?

“Definitely a ploy,� he said.

“What is a ploy, Malfoy?�

Draco visibly jumped at the voice but soon relaxed seeing that it was only Weasley leaning at the door.

“I asked what’s a ploy, Malfoy?� he said and winked good-naturedly.

“Well, your keeping me in this house, feeding me, nursing me and caring for me, I guess,� Draco replied, a bit of the tension leaving him.

“Okay, so what ulterior motive do I have in all this may I ask?� Ron replied cocking his head to the side.

“Umm... let’s think... yes...� Draco suddenly brightened up as an idea took shape in his head, “You would then turn me in and will prove that you are not only an adept Auror but a kind soul as well. Someone who cares for his prisoners but punishes them too. This way you will be able to win people’s heart and become the next Minister of Magic.�

As soon as Draco finished his monologue, Ron burst into one of his loud guffaws. “Well, that was one hell of a theory Malfoy. I must admit that it is a tempting one. But too bad it’s not the case. By the way, I brought you breakfast.�

Ron levitated in a small table which was covered with food. Before Draco could refuse to eat, his stomach gave a loud rumble and he forgot everything else. Famished to the core, the simple toast and tea seemed to him the most sumptuous meal he had ever had and he dug into it with animalistic fervour.

“The food’s not going to disappear, you know,� Ron said from the doorway with a goofy grin and went away.

Even Draco couldn’t suppress a smile.




Days passed and bit by bit Draco regained his strength. For the first few days he had to use Ron as a support and even a single walk to and from the washroom tired him out. Slowly, he started walking on his own. He explored the impressive little two-storeyed cottage that was Weasley’s home and was truly delighted to have found a library there. It was filled with all sort of books from top to bottom (which was very surprising given Ron wasn’t very fond of books from what he had gathered during their school days). But they were a great relief for him. He simply loved the smell of the yellowing pages and devouring the knowledge they provided. Most of all, they reminded him of her. It was like he connected with her among all those texts.

His other favourite place in the house was the garden. He had discovered that Weasley had developed a liking for gardening and spent most of his time tending to his plants. There was a large assortment of flowers ranging from roses to tulips to lilies to orchids. In the middle of the garden, there was a large apple tree and beneath it was a stone bench. It was here that he liked to sit and hear the birds chirping and feel the wind playing with his hair.

But the most intriguing factor of all was Weasley...no...Ron. He never even realised when he came to first-name terms with him. But he was sure about one thing. Ron was proving to be a friend he had always craved for. He was always there for him. Initially, whenever he wanted to read a book or eat something or go for a walk or use the loo, Ron had always helped him without ever treating it as a favour. Lately, he was always available for a good chat and his mere presence gave him hope and strength.

After all this time, Draco was finally realising what friendship meant. He was beginning to understand why Potter stuck with Ron even though he wasn’t the brightest of all people. He was something that very few people were: a true and great friend.

Draco felt a rush of gratitude towards him. After all the years he had made fun of him and his family, he had set aside his prejudices and helped him. And that was when Draco decided he had to talk to him.

The weight on his chest was piling up each day. His sorrow over her and his guilt on whatever happened was becoming too much to bear. He needed somebody to confide to and he was sure that he had found a perfect confidant in Ron. He trusted him.




Ron was sitting in his study sifting through some bland paperwork. After three cups of coffee, he still felt sleepy and was thinking of retiring to bed when there was a soft knock on the door. Looking up, he saw Draco standing there looking quite nervous.

Ron had to admit that in the past few weeks he had developed a special respect for him. He was strong and witty and funny when he wanted to be. He realised that he was just another victim of Voldemort’s prejudices and was pushed on the wrong path without him ever realising it. The day he had realised it had been too late for him to turn back. In short, his life had been a true mess.

Draco cleared his throat breaking his reverie, “Sorry to disturb you. I will come in later.�

“No, it’s okay,� Ron replied with a warm smile, “As it is I was packing up.�

This encouraged Draco, and he entered the room and sat down on the leather sofa across him.

“Well, Ron, I needed to talk to you. It’s about h...her�

Ron visibly stiffened. Draco knew that it was hard for him too since they were best friends and possibly more but he needed to do this.

Checking for confirmation, he saw Ron give a slight nod motioning for him to continue.

“I just want to tell you that I could never have killed her. She meant the world to me. I was in love with her.�

Ron’s jaw fell open, “H...how?� was all he could manage.

“It was in the sixth year. When all hope had died inside me, she showed me light. She was the one that guided me from the dark to the brightness. She made me complete.�

“Start from the beginning,� Ron murmured, horror and confusion etched upon his face.

There was something else in his expression he couldn’t place. Was it sorrow? But surely it couldn’t be... guilt? But Draco was sure that he had looked guilty even though for a moment. But why would he be guilty? Draco shook his head, “I am imagining things,� he decided.

“Yes?� Ron pressed on.

“It’s a long story, mate,� Draco said running his hand through his unruly hair.

Ron leant forward on his seat and said, “And I have all the time in the world.�

---

One year ago...

Sixteen year old Draco Malfoy looked out the window of his room and sighed. It was the first of September and the day he would be starting his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Normally, this day would have been his favourite in the whole year. He would never mention it to anyone but the school was a place where he loved to be. It was a much-needed respite from his crazy relatives. It was a place where he felt at home.

Sometimes, he felt sorry for leaving his mother with the lot of them but he knew that she was a strong woman. She knew how to survive them and establish the fact that she was the mistress of the house. It was another point in the long list of reasons for why he admired and respected her.

He truly enjoyed at Hogwarts. All the classes fascinated him and Quidditch was something that he lived for. His knew that his friends were a bunch of good-for-nothing cronies but the library provided an escape from them when it became too much for him to bear.

But this year was different.

After his father’s imprisonment, his mother had become a shell of her usual self. She moved about the large grounds like a ghost, staring at everything with unseeing eyes. It was the first time that Draco understood that beneath all the facade of the stone faced woman his mother loved his father deeply. The thought even disgusted him to a certain extent. He could never imagine how someone as gentle and caring like his mother could love someone as vicious and cruel like his father.

All through the summer, he had tried to be there for her. He accompanied her to her walks, instructed the house-elves to make sure that she ate, decorated the rooms with her favourite flowers and insisted her to play on the piano. In short, he did everything she loved.

She never complained or resisted him, but he could see that in her eyes, she begged him to leave her alone.

He would never have done that if the Dark Lord hadn’t paid them a visit just a fortnight before he was to leave for Hogwarts.

He humiliated them and called his father names that had his mother crying. Draco was furious but he bore with everything impassively until Voldemort spoke to him. He gave him an assignment to redeem his family name and honour and when a horrified Draco resisted, he threatened to kill his mother.

His mother had been his pillar of support whenever he had needed her. She had defended him from his father’s wrath every opportunity she got. She had taught him to be someone different from his father and urged him to take on the right path. But he had been naive. In blind desperation to gain his father’s affections, he had always done what he deep inside loathed. He had taken over a mask of haughtiness and pride when all he craved for was friendship and love.

Now, seeing her at the wandpoint of the most cruel wizard of all times, he knew he could do atleast this much for her. With a hoarse voice and a feeling of dread, he had accepted the Dark lord’s bidding.

---

Draco and Narcissa Malfoy reached platform 9 and ¾ just in time to board the Hogwarts Express. They found a spot far away from the throng of parents and students to bid their farewells.

They hadn’t spoken to each other the whole way. But now the mother was extremely anxious. The son did not have any words with which to lace his goodbye to the only person on the earth he loved. Both of them knew that if he was unsuccessful in his mission, it would be the last time they would ever meet. But secretly, they both wished for his failure. It was for the greater good.

After a long silence, the mother at last broke down. Amidst tears, she hugged him tight and he hugged her back.

Overcome with emotion, there were only two words that she managed to choke out before the train’s whistle summoned him, “Keep safe.�

Detaching himself from his mother, Draco Malfoy boarded the already moving Hogwarts Express. Slowly he made his way towards the front of the train where he usually sat with his friends. The corridor was usually deserted at the place. Most of the compartments were locked from the inside with the occupants huddled together providing no room for outsiders. This was actually the Slytherin side of the train where socializing outside one’s own group of friends was a rare occurrence. This irked Draco too much. But he didn’t stop to mull it over.

The last of the compartment was the only one whose door was slightly ajar. He knew it was where he would find Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Pansy and the lot. They would be waiting for him to swagger into their midst with his trademark smirk in place, equipped with an array of snide remarks about their schoolmates.

His mother had urged him to change this attitude but he brushed it off aside for his father. When he realised his mistake, it was too late. He knew he was a coward to admit it and besides, he craved attention. Desperately.

And he knew only one way to attain it.

Straightening his clothes, he took a deep breath and forced the real Draco to hide behind the fake Malfoy for yet another school term.

His was a broken soul but he was determined to push it below the surface. He had worked hard to keep his mask in place for the past five years and he had no intention of peeling it off yet. Especially, when the task he had been given needed this protection more than ever.

---

Draco Malfoy was really tensed.

For the umpteenth time he read the letter his mother had sent him that day. It said that the Dark Lord was getting impatient with Draco’s lack of progress. The task he had been given was nowhere near completion, even though it had already been more than a month into the school term.

“It is nowhere near inception,� he thought wryly.

And he knew that it didn’t mean well for her safety.

In the beginning, he had mulled over various ways to achieve what the Dark Lord desired of him. He had spent every minute of his waking day thinking over different tactics, weighing their pros and cons, arranging resources for the job, but only to back out at the eleventh hour. Try as he might, he knew that his efforts were heartless and thus futile.

It had been easy for Voldemort to order Dumbledore’s death, but it wasn’t easy for Draco to execute it. He had been raised better. He was well aware that the failure would mean his and his mother’s deaths. But sometimes sacrifice seemed better than servitude.

He was not a murderer.

Suddenly he heard footsteps nearing the tree under which he sat. Pullling out his wand, he hastily muttered ‘Incendio’, making the letter go up in flames. Taking out his Potions book, he pretended to read.

The footsteps seemed to come nearer and stopped directly on the other side of the tree. The rustling of the leaves suggested that the person had sat down. Ignoring the intruder, Draco prepared himself to be absorbed by his thoughts again, but he was interrupted by a sob. Curiosity getting the better of him, he peeked around and saw her.

Hermione Granger.

She seemed very upset. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her eyes were red and puffy. Her hair was violent, as always, and her nose was getting red too. Looking at her, he felt a twinge of sympathy. He was also surprised to feel a little bit of anger towards whoever had caused her the anguish.

He knew that he had always been bitter towards her but had never meant it from his heart. He had done so for the sole purpose of gaining his father’s approval and to maintain the pureblood façade.

Secretly, he had always admired her. Her brains, her courage, her loyalty... everything about her was praiseworthy. He admitted that he was even a tad bit jealous of her.

But seeing her that day, his heart went out to her. The usually studious and cheerful Granger seemed distressed.
Before he could make a move, another person approached her and gently lowered themselves beside her. It was Ginny Weasley.

Wrapping an arm around her, she said in a gentle voice, “They are fine, Hermione. You made sure of that.�

The older girl looked at the redhead and amidst her sobs said, “I know. But I can’t help but wonder. What if they attack them? How difficult it is to locate two dentists named Granger? They are my parents, Ginny. My family. I would never forgive myself if something happened to them. All because of me.�

“Nothing will happen to them. I am sure of that,� Ginny said encouragingly. “They have the brightest witch of her age as their daughter.�

Hermione gave her a weak smile, and they both sat there silently looking out at the lake.

Taking his cue, Draco silently got up and left. Normally, he would have made a snide remark or two, but he did not have either the heart or the energy to do so. Leaving the girls in their content companionship, he walked away.

“The impending war is affecting a lot of lives,� he mused as he slowly made his way up the castle.

---

Christmas was around the corner.

The whole castle seemed to be bathed in red and white. The usual twelve Christmas trees adorned the Great Hall. The decorations were a sight to behold. Everyone was overcome by the festive spirits. Most of the students had gone home for the vacations, leaving only a handful at Hogwarts. These included four from Ravenclaw and six from Hufflepuff whom Draco did not recognize. From Slytherin, he was the only one in his year, and there were a couple of third years too. From Gryffindor, there was a group of fifth-year girls and most surprisingly, Hermione Granger.

After the sumptuous breakfast, Draco decided to go for a walk. Suddenly, he felt somebody fall into step with him. Looking up, he was astonished to see Granger.

“Mind if I walk with you?� she asked, “You are the only one staying in the castle from our year and the only one I recognize.�

He was taken aback. Why would Granger talk to him of all people?

“Well, I know it’s a bit weird, me talking to you. But I am extremely bored. And you are the only option,� she stated matter-of-factly.

“I am not here to entertain you, Granger,� he spat. “Go fool around with your two bodyguards.�

Her face turned red instantly. “Firstly, they are not my bodyguards. Secondly, if you cannot see, they are not here.�

“Missing the twits, are we?�

“You know what, Malfoy? It was my mistake trying to be civil to you. You are a loathsome creature and always will be.�

“Thanks for the compliment, Granger,� he said, giving her a mock bow, his trademark smirk in place.

She huffed in response and trudged back the way she had come.

Draco found himself looking at her retreating figure until she was out of sight.

---

One more month had passed, and Draco was getting positively desperate.

His stunt with the necklace had backfired horrendously, and instead of getting Dumbledore, he had got Katie Bell instead. And because of that, Potter had smelled a rat. He knew that he was being watched. Sometimes, the Boy-Who-Lived had even followed him, but he had managed to shake him off. But he knew that it wasn’t long before he was caught. He thought of his mother and her latest letter:

“The Dark Lord has taken residence in our home, son. Stay away from the manor. Don’t try to send any letters even. In fact, this will be my last letter to you for a long time. I will write to you again if and when the opportunity presents itself. Stay safe and remember, do your heart’s bidding. It will guide you to the right path.�

That had been two months ago. He hadn’t heard from her since. For all he knew, she was a prisoner in her own home. They might be torturing her or maybe, she was already dea...

“No, Draco, stop right there,� he admonished himself.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on the concoction before him. He had been brewing the potion for the past week, and according to the book he was following, it would be ready by the next fortnight. That would be around mid-February. Even two drops of the potion were lethal for a man. Now all he had to do was to think of a way to ensure that his poison reached the Headmaster.

“Done for the day,� he muttered, checking the time. Gathering up his belongings, he stole out of the Room of Requirement and quietly made his way to the Slytherin dormitories.

“What are you doing out of bed at this time, Malfoy?� a familiar voice demanded. “It's way past curfew.�

Letting out a deep breath, he turned around to face none other than Granger. She was holding her wand aloft and from the soft light of it, he could make out her features. Her hair was gathered into a neat bun at the top of her head and her eyes were blazing. He could not control the chuckle that escaped him.

Aloud he said, “I could ask you the same question.�

“I am on prefect duties and before you say anything, I specifically know that it is not your night to patrol. Today is the turn of the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs.�

He just looked bored and casually leant against the nearest wall. He was going to enjoy this.

“Tell me, Malfoy. And the reason better be good, otherwise I will deduct points and report you to McGonagall.�

“You know what, Granger. Sometimes it is better to keep your nose out of other people’s business,� he drawled.

She seemed undeterred. “Spill.�

At this, he straightened himself and slowly walked up to her. When he was at wand’s length, he looked straight into her eyes and whispered dangerously low, “Make me.�

She simply stared back at him, her cinnamon gaze unwavered by his steely one.

He had meant to intimidate her, but here she was, challenging him. He found himself getting awed of her personality. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes he saw a stray curl falling in her eyes. Strangely enough, his hand itched to tuck it behind her ear. Inwardly cursing himself, he waited for her next move.

After what seemed like years, she lowered her wand and in the same low tone that he had applied, said, “Twenty points from Slytherin.�

Before he could react, she had walked away: the light from her wand slowly fading into nothingness.

---

As the days passed into weeks and weeks into months, Draco found himself seeing more and more of Hermione Granger. She would pass him in the hallways, be present during mealtimes, would stroll around the grounds when he would be doing that or would be there in his corners of the library. In the beginning, he had thought that maybe she had taken to stalking him after that night (at least she hadn’t reported him yet) but he quickly dismissed the notion. He deduced that maybe she had always been around; he must have not noticed her before.

Strangely enough, he found himself getting used to her presence. Numerous times he would catch himself subconsciously scanning the throng of students for her unmistakably bushy hair. He had never tried to initiate any sort of conversation with her (Merlin forbid if that though ever crossed his mind). Just her presence was enough. It pierced through his loneliness. With each passing day, he found himself gaining his usual confidence. He was even able to crack some jokes like old times to shake off the suspicions of his friends. She had managed to penetrate his cocoon.

But what was disturbing him at the moment was the fact that he had not yet received any sort of correspondence from his mother. That worry was eating at him. Several times he had been tempted to write to her. But each time her warning had echoed in the recesses of his mind. He knew that as a Malfoy, one could not give in to emotions.

Not to mention his plan regarding the poison that had fabulously flunked. The mead had somehow found its way to Weasley, who had nearly died. Draco had been shit scared that day. As much as he loathed the Weasleys (especially Ronald Weasley), he had never wished upon their deaths.

�You are not a murderer�, he reminded himself.

These were the plethora of things that were occupying his mind when he rounded the corner and SLAM...

Rubbing his head and cursing under his head, he quickly picked up his book bag and was about to snap at whoever had bumped into him, but whatever retort he had formulated died in his throat. There, lying at the foot of the couple of stairs that joined the two corridors, was the most recurring subject of his musings. Granger.

“Watch your step, Malfoy,� she snarled and gathered her book bag, which had also fallen off. Sending a vicious glare in his general direction, she tried to get up but promptly fell back.

“Can’t stand, Granger?� Draco said, recovering himself. “What a pity. But at least you are aware of your status now.�

“Whatever be my status, Malfoy, it’s certainly not here,� she said venomously, staring up at him.

“You know, if you weren’t so stubborn, I would have helped you, seeing that you have sprained your leg. No wonder that was about to happen. Your legs had to give out under the weight of your inflated head.�

She pretended to ignore him and, taking out her wand, performed a quick spell. But when she tried to get up, she sank back again.

“It seems that you need Madam Pompfrey. You cannot excel at everything,� he chuckled wickedly.

“No one asked your opinion, Malfoy. Now just move along and leave me alone.�

“You do realise it is almost curfew, Granger. If I leave, you will be stranded here until the morning or till Filch finds you.�

She opened her mouth to retaliate but quickly closed it. Her eyes darted from side to side as she weighed her options. He could almost see the machinations of her brain in motion, as she analysed their pros and cons. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find neat little mental lists of the same.

Finally, she turned her gaze to him. He could see that it was taking a lot of effort on her part. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Fine. Will you really help me?�

He would lie if he said that it was his idea from the beginning to help her. He had just wanted to rile her up a bit, and then leave her there. Maybe he would have informed a patrolling prefect about her predicament, but there was no telling that he wouldn’t.

But at that point, he found himself giving her an almost imperceptible nod. Taking out his wand, he conjured a stretcher. Offering her his hand, he helped her onto the stretcher and started Levitating it behind him as he walked towards the Hospital Wing. None of them spoke a word while on the way.

Ten minutes later found Draco Malfoy helping Hermione Granger onto one of the hospital beds while Madam Pompfrey bustled about her potions and medicines, preparing a concoction for the Gryffindor prefect.

“You are in safe hands now, Granger,� Draco said. “I should take my leave.� Saying so, he made to depart.

“Wait, Malfoy.� A small voice made him turn around. “Thank you.�

“You’re welcome.�

She gave him an embarrassed smile.

“Hope you get well soon. There is no fun when there is no competition in the classes,� he said light-heartedly.

Her expression changed from disbelief to confusion to shock in a matter of seconds as she realised that he was trying to be civil. (Well, he had to admit that even he was surprised at his words.)

But before he could make his hasty exit and kick himself for his foolish act, she said, “I hate to admit, but you are certainly right.�

“I always am,� he drawled.

But instead of a spiteful comeback, she just rolled her eyes and gave him a bright smile, “Yeah, I know. Malfoys and all that rubbish, right?�

In spite of himself, he found himself giving her a soft smile in response. But the arrival of the nurse cut across the response he had planned to deliver.

“Back to bed, boy,� she said, shooing him out of the infirmary. “It’s almost past curfew. And she needs to rest. Don’t worry; she will be completely fine by tomorrow afternoon.�

As he was ushered out of the Hospital Wing, the last thing he heard before the heavy oak doors were shut on him was the exasperated cry of the girl within. “Afternoon? But what about my morning classes, Madam Pompfrey? I have Double Transfiguration tomor...�

Shaking his head, he found himself grinning. It had been a long time since he had felt this relaxed. The light-hearted banter with the Gryffindor bookworm was the last thing he would have expected to happen that day.

But, it was also the best thing that had happened to him that day.

As one season morphed into another, Draco was surprised to find that his relationship with Granger was also changing. What had started that fateful day in the hospital wing had somehow turned their interactions more civil. He found that she was everything that he had thought her to be and some more. For instance, he always knew she was intelligent, but she was also extremely humble; he was sure that she was clever but she turned out be quite witty. He also noticed that she was pretty (courtesy to the Yule Ball), but now she understood that she was beautiful – inside out.

They would nod at each other in acknowledgement if they passed in the corridors. They would send warm smiles in the grounds. Sometimes, they would sit near each other in classes. But the library was their haven.

Draco had always found solace in the silence of the library. He would often occupy his favourite corner of the library with a book or two. Books served as a portal for him – a portal to another world. But he had also discovered that it was also the place where his Slytherin friends didn’t bother him. This place was now where he would spend most of his time with her. Sometimes they would discuss Arithmancy theories at length. Other times they would debate on the political significances of the Goblin Revolution. They were instances when they simply sat together and did their homework – silently.

Slowly but steadily, he realised that he was forming a bond with her that he had never experienced before – a bond of friendship and trust.

---

It was on one of their Hogsmeade trips that something momentous happened to Draco – something that helped changed the course of the history of the Wizarding world...

He was standing in the queue of eager students waiting to get their permission slips checked for their trip into the wizarding village. And he was sulking. The queue was moving forward at snail’s pace, and it was testing his patience. He really was in no mood to attend the village that day. He had planned to utilised his free time by working on his next plan. But all it had taken was some persuasion on the part of his new friend to get him to agree. He had promised to meet her at the Shrieking Shack at noon on the condition that she would let him leave by four in the evening and not make a fuss of it later. Rather grudgingly, she had accepted. So, there he was, getting jostled around as a bunch of third years rushed past him to get their permits checked by Filch.

Twenty minutes later (or was it years?), he was ambling around the little shops in the village buying knick-knacks, chocolates, quills, inks, parchments and the usual stuff. For fun, he even stopped and terrorized a group of third years (it was the same that had pushed him earlier in the day) who were having a snowball fight. It was kind of satisfying seeing them scamper off in fright when he threatened to deduct points and report them to their Head of House. After smirking to himself at the pathetic juniors, he checked the time. It was almost noon.

By the time he reached there, she was already waiting. He found her sitting on a rock with a book propped on her knees while she munched on her favourite crackers. She had confided to him that they were her guilty pleasure. Her parents were some �derntrists� who tended to other people’s teeth (he had cringed at that). So naturally, she was forbidden to eat anything that would spoil her teeth. When she was ten, she had discovered those goodies at a friend’s house and since then, she had been sneaking them around the house. She had even almost got caught a few of those times.

He walked towards her and took a seat on the nearest rock. “Hey.�

She looked up startled and then gave him a bright smile. “Oh! Hi. I just bought this book. You have got to read it, Malfoy. It’s enchanting. It’s about the Elf Unrest of 1453. The material it covers – I have never come across it before.â€Â�

He was intrigued. He knew that his bonding with her was mainly based on their shared passion over books. Taking the book from her, he examined the title ‘The Elf Unrest – Everything and Beyond by Frederick S. Gallagher.

“Seems interesting. Can I borrow it after you finish reading?�

“Oh yes. Sure.�

“Umm... so, why are we here?� he asked her, looking around.

“Well, you see, up at the castle, we can rarely meet outside of the library. Harry and Ron would have seizures if they saw us together, and I am pretty sure your friends won’t go chummy with me,� she said matter-of-factly. “So I thought that we could meet out here in the open and have a nice chat.�

Draco couldn’t believe it. She had dragged him all the way from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade in order to have a chat. He was now one hundred percent sure that she had gone bonkers. All the knowledge that she carried around in her head had finally mutinied and pulled a string or two of her brain.

“Before you say anything, I must admit that it was a stupid idea. But you hardly ever go out, Malfoy. I thought that the fresh air would do you some good. According to the ‘101 Ways to De-stress' by Lisa Hudge, an average person needs to spend some time outside the usual boundaries of their habitat in order to attain calm and relaxation.�

“You surely know that you are quite mad?� he asked, arching one eyebrow.

She simple glared at him.

“Oh great,� he exclaimed. “I am sitting in a secluded area of this godforsaken village with a madwoman.�

“Well, if that’s the case, I should better leave,� she announced and started gathering her bags.

She made to get up but he yanked her down. “For God’s sake, Granger. Can’t you even take a joke?�

And then he saw the twinkle in her eyes. She had tricked him.

“I am not that naive, Malfoy.�

“Whatever,� he said and started staring off into space.

She went back to her book, and for a long time they stayed that way: she reading and he just thinking. The calm atmosphere of the village, coupled with the gentle breeze playing with his hair, was slowly lulling him to sleep. Just before he could cross the threshold of the realm of conscious thought to the world of dreams, he was pulled out of his comatose position by her voice.

“You do realise that you tend to think too much, don’t you?� she said, putting away her book and looking at him intently.

He just blinked at her in response.

“Wherever you go, you are either moping or brooding. Why is that? Tell me.�

Looking at her then, he knew that he could trust her. He had never shared his pain with anyone, but that weight on his chest was beginning to constrict him. She, with her shining brown eyes and empathetic nature, seemed like the perfect confidante.

Steeling himself, he said, “I know that, Granger. It’s just how I am made. From the beginning, I have always overanalysed everything. But you know why? Because my father used to scrutinise my every step. There were certain well-defined standards that I had to adhere too, without any room for errors or exceptions. I had to be best at everything: sports, academics, etiquettes, everything. He had taught me to think before speaking out. I was not allowed to exhibit my emotions. If I did not do as instructed, the consequences were harsh: quite harsh for a seven year old at least. That’s the reason, Granger. It took a lot of time and effort on my part to master the skill. But now that I have, I am proud to say that the cocoon I have woven around me is enough to keep away externalities.�

“Why?� she interrupted. “Why don’t you show the world the real you?�

“Because I am afraid that I am weak,� he spat out. He could feel the rage building. But along with that, he could sense another odd feeling consuming him slowly. “I am afraid that when people find out my true self, they will mock me. What if I cannot stand up to their expectations? What if I could not achieve the benchmarks set for me? What if I fail, Hermione?� he trailed off, holding his head in his hands.

He could feel the tears threatening to escape. He could feel that he was burning. The fury within, coupled with his insecurities, had quickened his heartbeat. He was sure that she could hear it. He also felt like kicking himself for using her given name.

Suddenly he felt a cool hand on his shoulder, but he refused to look up.

“Look at me, Draco.�

The use of his given name acted as the balm for his aching soul. He complied with her gentle command.

Looking him straight in the eyes, she stated, her eyes blazing, “You are not weak. You get it.�

He found himself nodding at the intensity in her gaze as she continued, “What you did today is not what a loser does. You owned up to your insecurities. You confided your heart. And let me tell you one thing: you are anything but a failure. You are good at everything you do, Draco. You excel at studies. Your intelligence level amazes me. You are exceptional at Quidditch. You are a Prefect; the teachers must have seen something in you to endow such a responsibility on your shoulders.�

“You are smart, talented and everything that one can be,� she continued. “And the most important of all: you are not your father. Follow your heart, Draco. There is nothing else that matters.�

Saying so, she squeezed his shoulder lightly. Draco felt a weight lift from his chest. She gave him an encouraging smile and said, “Now, don’t just mope around. Get up. It’s almost four; your curfew, remember?�

She quickly gathered up her things and stood up. “I need to run. I promised Ginny I would meet her at the Three Broomsticks for a couple of butterbeers. See you in school.�

Walking away, she suddenly stopped some feet from him and, waving at him, called out, “Good bye, Brooder.�

Draco sat there for a good fifteen minutes reflecting upon what had just happened. The feeling that had been coursing in him during their conversation was resurfacing with a vengeance. He felt peaceful. He felt content. He felt happy.

And that was when Draco Malfoy realised that he had fallen in love (quite hard).