Unforgivable Truths
(Draco’s POV)
Draco sat forward, setting his empty glass on the table.
“I need to know where she works.”
Theo, who had been casually flipping through the Daily Prophet, froze mid-turn of the page. His expression shifted into something unreadable as he set the paper down.
“She doesn’t work,” he said simply.
Draco frowned. “What do you mean she doesn’t work?”
Theo exhaled through his nose. “I mean, she hasn’t had a job in years. Weasley made her quit.”
Draco’s fingers curled into fists against his thighs.
Theo continued, voice dark, “It was a rumor at first, but I heard it straight from someone at the Ministry. She was supposed to take some high-ranking position after the war—one of the youngest to do it. But out of nowhere, she declined the offer and disappeared from the workforce entirely.”
Draco’s jaw tightened. That didn’t sound like Granger.
The woman he knew was driven, relentless. She had always been the first to raise her hand, the first to throw herself into fixing things.
She wouldn’t have willingly given that up.
Not unless someone forced her to.
Draco pushed off the couch. “Get me their address.”
Theo raised a brow. “You sure about that?”
Draco shot him a look. “If you won’t, I’ll find it myself.”
Theo sighed, running a hand through his dark hair before muttering, “Merlin help me. Fine. Give me a few hours.”
Draco didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t this.
The house was small, almost claustrophobic. A perfect little picture of domestic bliss—except for the fact that it felt wrong.
The curtains were drawn too tightly. The lights were dim. And when Hermione opened the door, she looked like she’d seen a ghost.
Her breath hitched. “Draco, what—?”
Then, panic. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes darting like a cornered animal.
“You need to go,” she whispered, voice sharp. “Now.”
Draco’s eyes swept over her, taking in everything at once. She was in long sleeves, despite the warm air. Her hair was messier than usual, and there was a slight tremble in her fingers as she gripped the doorframe. But it was her face that made his stomach drop. Because one side of it was swollen. A dark bruise was blooming along her cheekbone, just beneath her eye.
Draco’s entire body went rigid.
His voice was lethal. “Did he do that to you?”
Hermione flinched at the question, but didn’t answer.
And that was an answer on its own.
Draco’s hands curled into fists. “Granger—”
“You have to leave,” she interrupted, voice almost pleading. “If he comes back and sees you here—”
Too late.
The unmistakable crack of Apparition sent ice through her veins.
Hermione’s entire body stiffened, eyes widening in terror.
Draco’s blood ran cold.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Familiar. Getting closer.
Ron’s voice called from outside the house.
“Hermione? Where the fuck are you?”
Her breath hitched. “Draco, please,” she whispered. Desperate. Terrified. “You have to go. Now.”
Draco clenched his jaw. “Not a chance.”
Her fingers dug into his sleeve, trying to push him back, but he didn’t budge.
“Draco, you don’t understand—”
The door slammed open.
And there he was.
Ron stood in the doorway, shoulders tense, blue eyes flickering between them. The moment he spotted Draco, his entire expression twisted.
“The fuck is this?” His voice was low, dangerous.
Hermione froze, looking as if she were trying to disappear.
Draco tilted his head, keeping his expression neutral. “Weasley.”
Ron’s eyes darkened. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
“Didn’t realize it was yours,” Draco said smoothly. “Thought it was Hermione’s too.”
Ron’s gaze snapped to Hermione, eyes blazing. “What’s he doing here?”
“I—” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I ran into him at the store.”
“And you invited him over?”
Draco felt the moment Hermione’s fear turned to guilt. Like she had done something wrong.
Like she had to explain herself.
Draco hated it.
He stepped forward slightly, drawing Ron’s attention back to him.
“Relax, Weasley,” Draco said, voice calm but dripping with challenge. “I was just leaving.”
Ron scoffed, stepping further inside. His shoulder knocked into Hermione’s, hard enough to make her flinch.
Draco’s hands curled into fists.
“Yeah,” Ron sneered. “You should.”
Draco held his ground, forcing himself to stay still as he met Ron’s glare. He wasn’t stupid. If he pushed too hard now, it would be Hermione who paid