A past Rewritten
(Draco’s POV)
Draco Malfoy had exactly one real friend left.
Theo Nott.
Blaise had moved to France. Pansy had married some Ministry official and cut ties with everyone from their past. But Theo? He stuck around.
Which was why Draco found himself in Theo’s flat, drink in hand, staring at the ceiling while Theo watched him like he was an experiment gone wrong.
“Are you going to tell me what’s got you acting like a lovesick poet,” Theo asked, “or do I have to guess?”
Draco scowled. “I’m not—”
“It’s Granger, isn’t it?” Theo cut in. “I saw you staring off into space like a brooding hero in some tragic novel.”
Draco took a slow sip of firewhisky. “I ran into her today.”
Theo’s smirk faded slightly. He leaned back against the couch, fingers tapping idly against the rim of his glass.
“And?”
Draco hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain it. He and Hermione weren’t friends, exactly. Not like him and Theo. But they weren’t enemies either.
Not after everything.
After the war, Hermione had been one of the few people who didn’t look at him like he was a walking curse. She had been civil when most weren’t. But they had never been close.
Until…
Theo sighed. “You’re thinking too much. Just say it.”
Draco let out a slow breath. “I saw bruises.”
Theo stilled.
Not the reaction Draco expected. For a long moment, Theo didn’t say anything. His face was unreadable, but there was something dark in his eyes.
“She’s with Weasley, yeah?”
Draco nodded.
Theo set his glass down. “And you think he’s the one hurting her?”
“I don’t think, I know.” Draco’s jaw tightened. “I’ve seen that look before. I just—” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know what to do.”
Theo studied him for a moment, then said, “You still care about her.”
Draco’s grip on his glass tightened.
That was the problem, wasn’t it?
He wasn’t supposed to care.
But after the war, after Azkaban had almost been his fate, Hermione had been one of the only people who saw him as something more than a Death Eater’s son.
Five Years Ago – The War Trials
Draco hadn’t expected anyone to defend him. Not when he stood in the middle of the Wizengamot, his parents absent, his father’s name weighing on his shoulders like a noose.
But Hermione Granger had.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. But she had spoken up.
“He was a child,” she had said, standing in front of the entire room. “He was a pawn in someone else’s war. He shouldn’t pay for his father’s crimes.”
Draco hadn’t understood it. She had every reason to hate him. To let him burn. But she hadn’t.
And when he walked free, when people still whispered behind his back, she had been one of the few who treated him like he wasn’t a stain on history.
They had never become close.
But they had understood each other, in a strange, unspoken way.
Back in the Present
Draco exhaled. “I owe her, Theo.”
Theo nodded slowly. “I know.”
They sat in silence for a while, the firewhisky burning warm in their throats.
Finally, Theo sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
Draco shook his head.
Theo smirked slightly. “Good.”
Draco raised a brow. “You approve?”
Theo shrugged. “I approve of you finally giving a shit about something. Besides…” His smirk faded. “If Weasley’s doing what you think he is, someone needs to stop him.”
Draco glanced down at his glass. For the first time in years, he knew exactly what he had to do.