The things we didn't know. - Drarry [DracoxHarry]

8 years ago, Hermione would've scoffed with disgust at the man who stood before her. Everyone at Hogwarts knew of the hatred which'd grown between the golden trio and Draco Malfoy, and even the newest of students seemed to breathe in their constant gossip and arguments. Back then, Draco had believed his actions were valid. Harry had also believed that he was justified in his words, taking Draco's hostility as an invitation to throw his own barrage of insults. Perhaps they'd both been wrong to think that way, but back in 1st year, it didn't strike them as wrong in the slightest. Hermione had been a muggle-born witch, an oddity for Draco, who'd been raised to view 'true' wizarding folk as pure-bloods. Hence, Draco had taken it up as his own duty to remind her of her place, her place as a 'mud-blood'. At that time, it was simply just another word to throw around, just another way for Draco to get under Harry's skin. Hermione however, being the know-it-all she was, knew exactly what that word had meant. From the first time Draco's scowl had produced the syllables, she'd known how she would always have to make her words worth hearing, if she wished to be respected like other wizards were.

Draco would've given anything to go back.

He'd been 17, standing around in his barren bedroom, the cold atmosphere of the Malfoy Manor seeming to follow him even when he tried desperately to claw it away. Draco sat on his bed, then stood up again, before pacing and sitting down once more. There was nothing to do, nothing he could do, not when his childhood home had been transformed into a hotel for planning on Harry Potter's demise. It was all fresh in his mind, the way his father had practically kicked down his door to grab Draco, the older man's face drooping with a look of desperation. The fear that flooded through Draco's body when he spotted the Golden trio, held hostage by the many deatheaters in the unwelcoming grand hall of his home. Draco didn't care enough to look at Ron or the bushy-haired girl that stood beside him, even as they were held roughly by the grip of a deatheater, who wore his face wide with pride. Draco didn't have the time to care for them, for as soon as he was in the hall, his lunatic aunt Bellatrix was already giggling at him, tugging at Harry's wild hair in order to hoist him upright. Both she and his father were disappointed with Draco's answers that day, though they both showed it in vastly different ways.

Draco knew it was Potter. Draco said he couldn't be sure.

After hearing Hermione's guttural screams as his cackling aunt tortured her, Draco never used the word 'mud-blood' again. Harry and Ron had been fortunate enough to at least be locked in the cellar, shielded from the sight of their friend's torture, whereas Draco was forced to watch. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from the horror before him, the way his aunt carved the letters into Hermione's skin, as if it was exactly what the girl before him deserved. He only broke out of his state of dread when his mother had gently steered him away from the sound, her own shaking hands flying up to cover Draco's ears.

***

"I know what I saw, it had to be him," Hermione explains, sighing with exasperation as Ron cocks an unbelieving brow in her direction. Ginny picks at her food, not meeting Hermione's gaze, knowing all too well that her eyes would give away her distrust in the women's words. Surprisingly, Harry looked genuinely interested in Hermione's unexpected encounter. Hermione had run into Draco almost 2 days ago now, but she'd waited until Sunday night to share the news, knowing that Sunday entailed a visit from Harry and Ginny, along with a roast dinner.

"God, he's probably torturing some poor muggles, that foul git..." Ron scoffed, laughing a little at his own words. Ginny found her brother's words amusing, but stifled her laughter by shovelling a potato into her mouth. Harry shook his head at the comment, a small frown plaguing his features. The reaction seemed to catch Ron's eye, causing the ginger boy to sit up straight in his chair, his attention now glued to his best friend who sat facing him. Ron's words were meant in banter, since he clearly didn't think that his wife had actually run into Draco, but Harry seemed to take them as factual. 

"That can't have been Malfoy, you know how he was Mione'" Ron finally groans after taking a large sip of his butterbeer, his words leaving his lips affirming just how unlikely it was for a Malfoy to be wandering muggle London. Harry's small frown relaxes, but not by much. Harry believed that Ron's previous comment was highly probable if Hermione was telling the truth, but his stomach still felt queasy at the idea.

A fully grown Draco Malfoy, in his mid-twenties, torturing muggles.

The idea made Harry feel sick, though he would rather die than admit it. The last he'd ever seen of Draco was at his trial for Azkaban, when Harry had anonymously provided a testimony which effectively helped Draco stay out of the wizarding prison. The judge, lawyers, and even the jury knew Harry was the one delivering the evidence, but the information was effectively hidden from the public and Draco to avoid any scandals which were sure to stir. At the forefront of his mind, he dreaded the idea of seeing Draco once more, but deep down, Harry almost felt glad  knowing that the boy was at least alive. 

"If it was Malfoy, you may see him again," Harry spoke, his voice tinged with thought, his hand coming up to adjust his circular frames that rested stiffly on the bridge of his nose. His hair fell haphazardly over his forehead and around the nape of his neck as he helped himself to a forkful of turkey, chewing while his words registered to the others around him. Ginny was the first to react, her face souring in distaste. Malfoy hated the Weasley family, along with his ill-mannered father, who always took it upon himself to berate Arthur Weasley, who was Ginny's father. Obviously, the auburn-haired girl felt quite annoyed with her boyfriend for even implying that Draco might return. Ron and Hermione only watched the interaction between the couple, not wanting to intervene but finding it immensely awkward to just witness the clear protest Ginny held.

"Surely you don't want Hermione to speak to him?" Ginny spoke, her voice thick with indignation, her deep brown eyes set on Harry with a glare of sorts. Harry met her eyes with a hardened look, his green eyes wordlessly expressing his lack of interest in arguing with her over the matter. "You cannot be serious right now," Ginny muttered under her breath, not raising her voice, but her miffed nature was evident in the way she silently ate her food while the trio discussed further on what to do.

Ginny Weasley was not a fan of Draco Malfoy.