**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter the amazingly talented JK Rowling does…I just enjoy playing with her characters.

**Warning: This story will include violence, torture, insinuations of rape (M/M) with slight description through nightmares, cursing, and sexual content. If these are themes you are not comfortable with please move to another story as there will not be another warning later on.

**This story has been sitting in my documents for far too long...I know many of you are still hoping for updates with The Deal, Shifting Allegiance, and From Shackles to Firelilies, but I just couldn't wait any longer to send this out. The updates will be sporadic...I'm leaning towards once a month as I swear I am still working on the others. Life had just begun calming down at the beginning of February for myself and my family. I was able to complete nearly all of my edits for the current chapters listed in other stories when COVID-19 happened. Unfortunately, with the children underfoot it's even harder to complete my work but as some of you may have noticed I updated 10 chapters of The Deal with new edits. That being said...I am trying my hardest to find quiet moments to work, but the constant noise makes it beyond difficult.

**I want to give a shout out and say thanks to my Alpha, MrsRen, and Beta, Slytherin-Goddess214! Without them my stories would be a probable mess, so thanks ladies for everything!

**Without further ado here's my latest story...I hope you like the twist I'm taking and will leave a review! Thanks so much for everyone's understanding!

Chapter 1:

Draco Malfoy sat quietly, staring across at the cold grey stone wall of his cell. The second Wizarding War had been won and within mere hours of Potters' victory, Draco and his family had been apprehended and escorted to Azkaban for an undetermined amount of time. To be honest, he'd expected to be arrested and possibly tried and condemned for his part in the war…but nothing had prepared him for the realities of prison.

At seventeen years old, possibly eighteen if his birthday had passed, he was to be tried as an adult and therefore was placed alone in a small ten by ten stone cell without a window. The only source of light came from the torch lined corridor, filtering in through the bar's in the heavy wooden door sealing him in.

Inside the room was a waste pail in one corner and a thin bedroll stained and riddled with holes in the other. The small room held a pungent odor that nearly caused him to gag when the guards had initially opened the door. But he didn't bother crying out or beg to be released as they roughly shoved him forward, feeling that this is what he deserved after everything he'd witnessed during the war.

Days or possibly even weeks had passed since he'd been unceremoniously tossed inside and forgotten. His eyes had adjusted to the low lighting and he occupied his mind by counting the stones, their cracks, or minor imperfections to pass the time. Every now and then a tray of stale bread, cold soup, and what he assumed was unfiltered water would appear, providing him with little sustenance to keep him alive.

The silence was deafening and only broken every so often by the sound of the guard's boots as they passed his cell. They'd left him in his soiled black suit covered in a mixture of blood, soot, and debris from the battle. In fact, they hadn't even given him time to wash or provided him with a basin of water to clean the grime from his skin. The only thing he was grateful for by this point was that the Dementors had been removed from the premises and warming charms had been added to stave off the cold wind from the North Sea.

Uncertain of the number of days he'd spent in the darkened cell alone with his thoughts and memories, he began to wonder if this was it for him? Was this where he would die? Would there even be a trial or would it be like the first Wizarding War where opponents from the losing side were thrown behind bars and forgotten? Fear gripped him as the worrisome thoughts crossed his mind for what he felt was the second day in a row. He'd lived through hell the past few years and swore if they knew everything he'd witnessed and been subjected to they'd let him walk free.

Shaking the fear from his mind, he began to count the cracks in the far wall once again, starting in the bottom left-hand corner. As he neared a hundred and thirty-eight, the sound of boots marching down the stone hallway reverberated in the cell and momentarily broke his concentration. He recalled hearing the guards patrol the hallway hours earlier and was surprised to hear them again so soon.

The sound grew as the guard walked further down the corridor and stopped just outside his cell. The scraping of a heavy metal lock jolted Draco from his curiosity and replaced it with fear of the unknown as he scrambled to his feet and crouched backward into the corner…attempting his best to make himself as small as possible.

Torchlight flooded the room as a burly guard swung the door outwards and stepped inside. He carried a simple wooden chair in one hand and his wand in the other. The pale wizard shrank further into his corner, fearful of what would happen as the guard slammed the chair in place and glared at him through narrowed slits.

"Stand-up," he snapped, "and put your hands out to your sides." Draco swallowed hard but followed the instructions without question. The guard stepped back two paces before pointing at the chair "Get over here and sit down…now," he barked. Again, the young wizard did as he was told and sat in the slat-backed wooden chair before placing his hands behind his back while the guard bound them together. He'd tried to mask the fear in his eyes from being confined, but judging by the guard's cruel smirk, he hadn't succeeded.

Without another word, the guard exited the room and spoke quietly to another individual. Draco's heart was pounding in his chest as unbidden questions ran through his mind. Were they here to release him? Was he finally receiving a trial? Or was this when the abuse would begin? Maybe even his execution. His mind ran rampant with possible scenarios in a matter of seconds before a heavily cloaked individual stepped into the room, closing the wooden door behind them.

The stone mask of indifference, he'd mastered while living with Voldemort, slid into place…concealing his fear and anxiety. His silver gaze flickered over the figure before him dressed in a hooded black cloak, reminiscent to that of a Death Eaters'. Their stature was small and slender but outside of the pale hand grasping a wand, he couldn't make out any other features.

With a flick of their wrist, small lights illuminated the cell with a soft glow. But since Draco had become so accustomed to the shadows, the sudden brightness caused him to squint in obvious pain.

"Oh, sorry," a familiar soft feminine voice said before flicking her wand once more to dim the lights. "I hadn't realized you'd been subjected to darkness all this time. This is completely barbaric…" she huffed and shook the hood of her cloak in obvious disgust. Draco sat silently, unsure of what to say or ask…or if he was even allowed to speak at all. He had no idea what woman would bother traipsing to the middle of the North Sea to see him, but he didn't have to wait long as she lifted her slender hands to lower her hood.

Upon recognizing the curly-haired brunette as none other than Hermione Granger, war heroine and integral part of the Golden Trio who'd helped defeat the Dark Lord, he averted his gaze. This was the woman he had tormented for years at Hogwarts, treating her as scum beneath his shoes until the end of his fifth year. He'd been raised to believe pure-bloods were above everyone else, especially mudbloods…the muggle-borns whom Voldemort planned on eradicating.

It didn't matter that by the middle of his sixth year he'd disagreed with the Dark Lord's ideals or that by the time the Golden Trio had turned up at the Manor he'd prayed the light would win the blasted war. He may have lied in identifying Potter…essentially buying them time to escape…but he'd stood by and watched in horror as Hermione was tortured on his drawing room floor. His only guess as to why she was visiting him now was to repay the years of torment and possibly take advantage of the fact that he was bound to a chair to exact her revenge.

Lowering his head in defeat, he waited for the spell to leave her lips…the spell his deranged aunt had inflicted upon her repeatedly as he listened to her screams. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as she circled his chair.

"This is all they give you?" she inquired after several silent moments. Draco's eyes snapped open at the question and took in her narrowed eyes and nose wrinkled in disgust. Still uncertain if he was allowed to speak, he simply nodded his head. "This is just…" she exhaled sharply, clearly unable to articulate her outrage as she shook her head in disbelief, "I'll be speaking to Kingsley about this." Turning her eyes back to him, she looked over his filthy disheveled state, "Have they silenced you?" she questioned, raising her wand.

"N-no," he croaked out; his voice was dry and raspy with lack of use. Her brown eyes seemed to soften as they traveled over him once more. 'Maybe she isn't here to torture me,' he thought hopefully as they assessed one another.

She was thin and underweight from spending the last year on the run, but he couldn't deny she looked better than when he'd last seen her. Her tamed curly hair was tied back in a ponytail, no longer dull and streaked with debris. She was clean and had a healthy glow about her skin, that of someone who'd been resting regularly. He didn't need a mirror to know he probably looked affright as he was still covered in dried blood, dirt, and grime.

"H-how l-long have I-I b-been-n in h-h-here," he asked after realizing she wasn't going to hurt him. His words were broken and barely audible due to the strain on his vocal cords. Without answering his question, she conjured a glass and filled it with clear water before stepping towards him. She gently lifted it to his cracked lips and poured the refreshing liquid inside, soothing the pain in his throat.

"Here, is that better?" she queried after he drank greedily from the proffered cup. The tip of his tongue jutted out over his dry lips as he nodded his head vigorously.

"Thank you," he breathed.

"You're welcome, Malfoy," she replied softly before offering him more. He drank three full glasses before finally sitting back, indicating he was done.

"Not that I'm not grateful for the visit but why are you here, Granger? And you never answered my first question." She vanished the glass and took a deep breath before meeting his steely gaze.

"You've been here for four weeks," she stated honestly. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but a lot has happened since the final battle and it was imperative that I attend the meetings held at the Ministry or this would be all for naught."

"Why? What's happened?" he inquired with a mixture of curiosity and panic.

"Well, to begin with, Kingsley Shacklebolt has been made the new Minister of Magic, several of the unjust laws that were implemented over the last two years have been repealed, dozens of Voldemort's supporters have been rounded up and imprisoned, rebuilding has begun at Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and Hogsmeade, and Harry and I've secured fair trials for all prisoners." Unshed tears burned Draco's eyes as she spoke the last words…he was going to have a trial, a fair trial. That was more than he'd dared hope in the past several days.

"Really?" he uttered in disbelief, praying this wasn't a dream.

"Really," she confirmed with a small smile.

"Why would you do that? Why help us after…everything…" he trailed off and lowered his gaze to the floor. Hermione knelt in front of him and cupped his cheek, urging him to look at her.

"No one deserves to be thrown into prison without a trial, Malfoy…especially you," she stated softly.

"How can you say that after everything I've d-done," he questioned as tears gathered in his eyes once more. She had no idea what he'd done over the last two years, no idea what he'd been forced to do…to witness and endure. He swallowed hard as she stared into his pain-filled eyes. The comfort she offered him wasn't deserved after everything he'd subjected her to. "Hell," he scoffed, "it probably won't make a difference for me" he shook his head as she stared at him with questioning eyes.

"Why would you even say that, Malfoy? You can't possibly think this is what you deserve," she gestured around the small cell.

"Doesn't matter," he uttered, trying to control his trembling lower lip. "I let the Death Eater's into Hogwarts and helped murder our headmaster. They won't let me out of here after that…" he continued to shake his head, refusing to look into her warm brown eyes.

"You don't know that," she argued, trying to capture his gaze. As she became frustrated, she straddled his lap and cradled his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I know you didn't choose this," she growled out as his eyes widened a fraction in shock at her vehemence. "Harry and I plan to testify on your behalf after what you did at the Manor and in the Room of Requirement. Once they take your statement and ours, I guarantee you won't be tossed back in here." As her words washed over him, tears fell unbidden from his eyes.

"You really think so?" he asked, searching for reassurance within her dark brown orbs.

"Yes," she stated confidently before raising her wand and muttering a quick scurgify to clean his face and clothes. Between the idea of being released and feeling the soft touch of her hands against his clean skin, he broke down. His shoulders shook and his breath came in sharp ragged gasps as tears streamed down his cheeks. At the moment he didn't care that she witnessed him in such a state, he was just grateful to know she had secured him a chance at freedom…at redemption. "Oh, Malfoy," she whispered, blinking back tears of her own.

Unhesitatingly, she wrapped her slender arms around the broken man before her. Holding on as he buried his tear-stained face into the crook of her neck. His hands were still bound to the chair, but he was far from uncomfortable as she stroked the hair at the nape of his neck and promised him it would be alright.

As he calmed down and regained control of his breathing, he leaned away from her and apologized for momentarily forgetting himself. A soft smile graced her lips as she reached up and tenderly wiped the tears from his cheeks. Her warm chocolate irises seemed to assess him; taking in his expressive grey eyes, pale skin, and unshaven aristocratic jaw before briefly flickering to his mouth. Without warning, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his chapped lips.

Draco was shocked still by her boldness and could feel her trepidation after his moment's hesitation. As she slowly began pulling away, he leaned forward and captured her soft lips in return. It had been too long since he'd felt the tender touch of a woman and he wasn't about to let her walk away now.

Hermiones' hands wrapped gently around the base of his neck as she pulled herself closer to him. She deepened the kiss and drew a moan from his lips as her heated core brushed against his blatant arousal.

Just as his tongue began tracing the seam of her lips, a knock sounded on the wooden door, alerting her to the hour being up and jarring them back to reality. Both of them were breathing heavily as she leaned back and smiled at him. Judging by the blush creeping up her cheeks, she hadn't planned on snogging him…let alone doing so as he sat bound to a chair in his prison cell.

"I have to go," she whispered, swallowing hard as she averted her gaze. "Your court date is Monday June first…which is two days from now," she explained shakily. He could sense her concern as she stared at the floor, clearly embarrassed by his silence. As she slowly began to stand up from his lap, he surged forward and pressed one last kiss to her slightly swollen lips.

"Thank you," he murmured earnestly as his darkened silver gaze held her brown one. A deeper flush stole over her cheeks as she nodded, fixed her hair, and stepped from his room. For the first time in nearly two years, he felt a flicker of hope and happiness rise up inside him. Only two days left until his trial, two days left eating stale bread and drinking brackish water…two days until he'd see the sun.

XXX

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, began as he read the verdict of the platinum blonde-haired man shackled to the chair before him. "After we, the Wizengamot and myself, have listened to both your private and public testimony as well as that of Mr. Harry James Potter and Ms. Hermione Jean Granger, we hereby deem your affiliation with the Death Eaters as forced. It is clear that you, at the young age of sixteen, were both under duress and unwilling when branded with the Dark Mark." Several whispers broke out among the crowd as Kingsley pressed on, his deep voice reverberating around the stone atrium.

"It is also noted that you stayed your hand when prompted to murder Albus Dumbledore and purposefully failed to identify Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, or Hermione Granger." Draco held himself together as he waited, certain that he wouldn't walk away unpunished for his actions. "However," Kingsley's low voice echoed through the silenced room, sending fear and doubt through the prisoner. "You did aid the Dark Lord's most abhorred Death Eater's into gaining entrance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he paused before continuing. "After careful consideration of all the facts and testimony, we have ruled that you will undergo two years of probation where you are to check in with an Auror once a week to have your wand monitored." Draco blinked twice, uncertain if he'd heard correctly…he was only getting probation?

"However, during the following two years, you will not be allowed to associate with your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, or reside in Malfoy Manor," Draco's eyes widened in disbelief and he nearly asked where he would go or what he would do as the Minister spoke. "During this time, you will reside with an advocate, one who has already been selected for you, and return to Hogwarts to complete your interrupted final year. At the end of which you are expected to pass all of your classes, including a muggle studies course. If you fail to comply with any of these regulations, then you will spend three years in Azkaban prison. Court adjourned."

With that, a loud buzzing of voices rose around him as everyone in the room stood and began filtering out of the large double doors. As a guard moved forward and began unchaining him, Draco sat in a state of shock…he was free, well, with regulations, but still…free. The guard took hold of his arm and guided him to a single door beneath the Wizengamot seats before ushering him inside.

"Your advocate will be here shortly," he stated gruffly before turning and closing the door. Draco blinked in the torchlight and noticed two chairs on either side of a small square table. He took a seat and waited approximately ten minutes before the door opened and Hermione walked in alongside a ministry employee.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy, I'm Robert Wright. Congratulations on your freedom, I'm here to see if you have any questions about the verdict," a dark-haired young man, barely older than himself or Hermione, said cheerfully as he reached out to shake Draco's hand.

"Thank you," Draco replied taking the offered hand. He was still reeling from everything Kingsley had relayed in the courtroom and honestly wasn't certain where to begin or what questions he should ask.

"Do you have any specific questions?" the man inquired.

"Umm," Draco uttered as he muddled through his thoughts.

"How about we recap the Minister's regulations and then see if he has any questions," Hermione suggested calmly, giving Draco a chance to gather his bearings.

"Alright," Mr. Wright started, "first and foremost you are required to check in once a week with an Auror to have your wand monitored for any illicit behavior, you are not to have any contact with your mother or reside in Malfoy Manor for the duration of her house arrest, which is three years…"

"Wait what?" Draco interjected. "I thought it was only for two? And what do you mean house arrest?"

"No sir, it is for the duration of three years. Her hearing was this morning and she was sentenced to three years of house arrest with minimal contact to the outside world. At the end of her time, she will receive her wand and full access to the Malfoy vaults."

"How is she supposed to buy food without access to the vaults?" Draco growled out. He was happy to note that she was free from Azkaban but without gold or a way to earn it, she would potentially starve.

"Please don't worry, Mr. Malfoy, she will have access to her own personal vaults just as you will…but not the entire Malfoy fortune," Wright explained quickly before the Malfoy heir lost his temper.

"Our own vaults?" he reiterated to clarify, knowing there was still enough in each of those to last his lifetime.

"Yes sir," he answered again before moving on. "So, where were we…ah yes, no contact of any kind with your mother, you will reside with your appointed advocate who is Miss Granger, and attend Hogwarts for your final year…which you must pass all of your classes, including muggle studies, to remain outside of Azkaban. Any questions?"

"You're my advocate?" Draco queried incredulously as he stared over at Hermione. He had assumed this when she walked in, but it still surprised him nonetheless.

"Yes," she replied, raising a questioning eyebrow as if to ask if he had a problem with it.

"What does that entail?" he asked, directing his gaze back to Robert Wright.

"Essentially, she will be responsible for you. Ms. Granger will escort you whenever you go out and make sure you're following your probation regulations. She will also be there to protect you from any potential attacks, threats, or attempts to force you into breaking your parole. Ms. Granger will be your emergency contact as well as ours if we need you for anything specific. Anything else?" he questioned cheerfully.

"Umm, well," Draco hesitated as he bit his lip. "I'm not asking because I necessarily care, but I was curious if my father has had his hearing yet? To be honest, I'm hoping he won't be leaving Azkaban anytime soon after everything that's happened over the last two years," he added quickly so there wasn't concern over his loyalties. The last thing he needed was to be sent back less than an hour after he'd been released from prison. He meant what he'd said, he hoped his father would rot behind bars after allowing…well…everything.

"Your father did have his trial this morning, Mr. Malfoy," Robert uttered cautiously as he nervously shuffled his paperwork and cleared his throat. "Well…ummm…well…"

"Malfoy," Hermione cut in when it was apparent the young employee was afraid to relay the information. His guarded grey eyes flickered to hers, awaiting an answer that Robert Wright clearly couldn't provide. "Your father…" she paused and took a breath to gather her nerve. "Lucius Malfoy has been sentenced to life in Azkaban upon receiving the Dementor's kiss," she rushed out in anticipation of his outburst…but it never came. Instead, he simply sat there absorbing the news with an unreadable expression.

"Good," he stated flatly, surprising both Hermione and Robert.

"Malfoy?" she hesitated to ask if he was alright.

"I mean it, Granger," he claimed, refocusing on her. "I'm glad he's getting what he deserves rather than paying his way out of it like he did in the first war. After everything he did to my mother and I…" he trailed off and shook his head. They sat in wrapped silence for a few moments before the ministry employee thanked them for their time and left. Hermione stood waiting for Draco by the door as he slowly rose and pushed in his chair.

"Are you ready?" she tentatively inquired. He paused a few feet from her and stared warily at the door, obviously nervous about heading out through the crowd. "Don't worry, the ministry has issued any and all freed prisoners a portkey to avoid angry protestors and nosy reporters. We'll collect ours from the guard outside and head home, okay?" Draco simply nodded in understanding as his shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Oh, wait," he said suddenly as she opened the door. "How am I supposed to get my stuff if I'm not allowed at the Manor?"

"An Auror escorted Harry to your mother's shortly after your verdict was read," Hermione answered. "Everything will be gathered and brought to Grimmauld Place until I find us a suitable new residence." He nodded in response before following her through the door and over to where the guard was waiting for them. The burly man asked Hermione where they were headed before turning the single shoestring he held into a portkey.

As the tattered lace began to glow blue, Hermione handed him one end before they were quickly whisked away in a blur of colors.

They landed in a crumpled heap on the front steps of number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Each of them grumbling slightly as they stood and straightened their wind-whipped clothes. Draco's cool grey eyes took in the ancient house of Black as Hermione stepped forward and led him into the darkened entrance hall.

Much had changed in the year that they'd been on the run. Ever since Harry had given Kreacher Regulus's locket, the elf had begun cleaning and repairing much of the dilapidated home. Before the Golden Trio broke into the Ministry, he'd completely overhauled the kitchen and dining room. Once Harry and Hermione had returned after the final battle, they'd found nearly every room spotless and resembling that of their former glory.

In the last month, while Hermione worked closely with the Ministry officials to overturn unjust laws and guarantee fair trials for the prisoners, Harry had decided to rearrange the house to be more welcoming to others…and to distract himself from the grief of war.

On the ground floor, he'd turned the formal dining room into a large living room complete with comfortable couches and area rugs pulled from hidden corners of the house and added torches to illuminate the darkened halls once the portrait of Walburga Black was removed. He claimed his godfather's bedroom and spent several days determining what to keep and what to get rid of before adding his own pictures and personal items to the fray. Light was added throughout the house and Harry requested Ginny's help in deciding what else should be done before she moved in.

The two of them had resumed their relationship within a few days following the final battle. They were practically inseparable as they grieved over the loss of their loved ones, helped rebuild Hogwarts, attended Ministry trials, and redecorated Grimmauld Place. Hermione suspected they kept busy in order to drive the nightmares away as they tried to handle what life was like after the war.

Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, did not pursue a relationship as everyone had expected. The passionate kiss they'd shared during the battle wasn't enough to build on after he lost his brother. In fact, they both realized it was best to remain friends as they figured out their lives…well, Ronald had agreed with Hermione's assessment shortly after burying Fred, though it was obvious to most he still hoped she'd change her mind.

However, once Hermione began fighting for fair trials for all prisoners, her relationship with the Weasley's became strained. They were angry at her insistence that some of the Death Eaters were innocent and didn't deserve life sentences because of working under duress. Harry had broken up several arguments between her and Ron whenever the particular topic of Malfoy came up.

She wasn't sure when it had happened but over the course of her sixth year, she'd begun watching the blonde and knew something was wrong as he'd grown gaunt and slender. Her instincts had told her that he wasn't doing anything by choice and after Harry had described the night upon the Astronomy Tower, she was certain of it.

The day she'd gained clearance to visit him in Azkaban, she had paced the length of Grimmauld Place's front entrance, wringing her hands until the time came for her to portkey to the North Sea. The prison was cold and desolate as it loomed over the rocky shores. Thankfully, the Dementors had been removed and Aurors were placed as the new prison guards.

It took well over thirty minutes to be processed and granted access to his cell…most of which was her arguing with the warden over being given privacy when conversing with Draco. She figured if Malfoy was anything like the arrogant boy she'd remembered, he likely wouldn't speak freely in front of the Aurors. However, she had never expected to see him so broken or resigned to the fate of spending his lifetime rotting away behind bars.

Hermione wasn't pleased by the idea of having him bound to a chair for their conversation, but she understood the wardens' concerns and conceded. She was openly disgusted by the sight of the waste pail and tattered bedroll they'd left for him to use. Not to mention the state in which they'd left him…she couldn't believe that blood and soot still adorned his body after weeks of incarceration.

Initially, she thought they'd taken her to the wrong cell before she'd caught sight of his silver gaze and pale blonde hair. His face was dirty, gaunt, and unshaven while his clothes were caked with dirt and what seemed to be debris. Anger simmered in her blood as she realized that was how prisoners were treated before they were even condemned.

After spending several minutes contemplating how to address the conditions with Kingsley, she turned her focus to Draco and noticed the fear radiating through his body. She wondered once more what he'd been subjected to in prison or during the war that would make him fear her. Shaking her head, she intended to spend the rest of their time filling him in on the changes that were being made in the Wizarding World. She'd never expected to hold him as he sobbed or reassure his fears as the mask he generally wore slipped and let her in.

The curly-haired brunette had especially never planned on claiming his lips and snogging him senseless in a feeble attempt to remind him of his worth.

Shortly after she left his cell, Hermione was found screaming at Kingsley in his office over the treatment of the prisoners. She demanded they review their policies regarding Azkaban and update the way in which everyone was treated…no matter their crimes.

By the time Malfoy's trial rolled around she had convinced Kingsley to reconsider the accommodations of prisoner cells, been approved to be Draco's advocate, and set up a plan to help him adjust to life when he was released. The two of them made their way into the living room where a brown parcel sat waiting for them on the table. Hermione had been informed during the advocacy meeting with Kingsley that if Malfoy were entrusted to her care that she would receive a package containing his confiscated items they'd stripped him of upon being arrested.

Draco followed closely behind Hermione as he took in the torchlit halls, ornate furniture, and outdated wallpaper lining the walls. The sitting room held three couches and two oversized armchairs bordering a plush area rug while facing a large stone fireplace. He watched as the brunette witch settled onto the center couch and reached for the little brown box before her.

Uncertain as to what he should do, he stood awkwardly by the coffee table until she gestured for him to take a seat next to her…surprised that he'd waited in the first place. He glanced around the room once more before looking back at the witch beside him, watching as she tore open the package.

"Where are we?" he inquired quietly, still uncertain of how things were to be between them.

"Grimmauld Place," she answered easily before he shot her a look of annoyance. "We are in Borough of Islington, London, a muggle neighborhood just a few blocks away from King's Cross Station. The house was once owned by Sirius Black, your mother's cousin, and is hidden by a Fidelius charm, unplottable, and currently owned by Harry. We'll only be here for a little while; I plan to find an affordable flat, so we won't be underfoot once Ginny and Harry marry."

"They're getting married?" Draco was surprised that Potter was willing to settle down so young. He'd heard of Grimmauld Place once before from his aunt when she had screamed upon learning the inheritance had been passed onto The-Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone within arm's reach had scattered in hopes of escaping her wrath. He honestly hadn't expected for Potter to open his doors to him after everything that'd happened between them over the years.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they eloped tomorrow. He and Ginny have been inseparable for weeks and it's incredibly nauseating to continuously walk in on," she affirmed candidly. "I think it'll be best if we find somewhere else to live so they can have their own space." Draco nodded in understanding as he stared down at his hands. He was afraid his mind was playing tricks on him and that this was nothing more than a dream where soon he'd awaken in his darkened cell…alone.

"Here," Hermione said, pulling him from his fears and causing his eyes to flicker up to her. She was holding the brown package out towards him with a genuine small smile gracing her lips. Gingerly, he reached out and took the box from her hands, confused beyond reason until she spoke, "This should be everything they confiscated from you upon your arrest." She worried her lip as he looked down at the contents and sighed in relief when a look of appreciation stole over his face.

Sitting at the top of the small pile of items was the hawthorn wand Harry had returned to him shortly after the battle, before he'd been escorted to Azkaban bound in chains. Trembling slightly, he reached inside and gently grasped the wooden handle. The familiar rush of magic warmed his core as his wand recognized him and emitted a handful of sparks. Smiling for the first time in what felt like years, he glanced up and met Hermione's warm chocolate gaze. Words stuck in his throat as he tried to think of how to properly thank her for freeing him from prison and giving him a second chance. A chance not only to learn from his past mistakes but to make amends for everything he'd done, in particular to her.

But before either of them could speak, Harry's silver stag pranced into the room and informed Hermione that Draco's things were waiting for him in the small bedroom on the third floor and that he would be home later that evening after court adjourned. With that, the Patronus faded and Hermione stood, ushering Draco to follow her up the narrow staircase and to his temporary living quarters. She explained her room was through the door to the left and that the bathroom was on the right before leaving him to settle in.

The room was sparsely furnished with a single full-sized bed, nightstand, and chest of drawers. He was pleased to see a window looking out over the back gardens, allowing sunlight to filter in and bounce off the cream-colored walls. It wasn't much, but it was warm and inviting. Without bothering to ask, he placed the small box next to his old school trunk and began sifting through the contents upon his bed. Nearly everything from his room had been stuffed inside, including his tomes for school, a photograph of his mother holding him as a young child, the watch his grandfather had willed him, and a few other trinkets he'd kept around the mantel of his fireplace. Deciding to wait to finish itemizing his personal belongings, he pulled out a set of clean clothes before rushing back out of the door and into the bathroom.

Even though Hermione had magically cleaned his skin and clothes two days prior, he still felt filthy and decided to take a scalding hot shower to scrub away the residual dirt and grime. He wasn't certain how long he'd stayed beneath the pulsing spray, but he took his time to thoroughly scrub his entire body until the water ran clear…then once more for good measure. When he finally stepped into a pair of clean boxers and trousers, he felt renewed.

However, after catching a glance of his unkempt appearance in the mirror he flicked his wand and summoned the magical razor his mother had gifted him two Christmases before. He gave it explicit instructions and watched as the shaver flew around him, trimming his hair and removing the patchy beard he'd managed to grow in the last four weeks.

As the magical blades maneuvered their way around his head, he couldn't help but catch sight of the scars peeking over his shoulders. He didn't need to turn to recall the multitude of intersecting lines that littered his back, stopping just above his waistline. Careful to keep still, he blinked away the memories of his punishments and concentrated on taking steady even breaths, reminding himself all the while that he was free and no longer at the mercy of the Dark Lord.

Once the razor ceased it's trimming, it shook the hairs from between its blades and settled onto the sink beside his toothbrush. Malfoy's grey eyes roved over his reflection in the mirror, assessing his short hair and clean-shaven jaw. He tried not to stare at his near emaciated features where dark bruising lingered under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken from weeks of malnutrition and two years of living in fear beneath the Dark Lord's hand. Instead, he took yet another deep breath and tried to push the horrific memories from his mind as he turned away from the mirror.

Feeling a little more like himself, Draco tossed the black suit he'd worn for over a month into the bin before stepping from the bathroom clad in black slacks and a simple white button-down. He was debating whether or not he should return to his room when shouts echoed up the staircase.

"I can't believe you advocated for that slimy git," Ron Weasley's voice roared. "I get why you testified on his behalf even though I disagreed with you, but to advocate and take him on for the next two years..." he stated exasperatedly. "Have you gone completely mental? Or have you forgotten the years of torment he inflicted upon you?"

"It isn't your decision, Ronald," Hermione snapped. "He didn't deserve to be in Azkaban, he was just a child when Voldemort threatened him into submission…"

"We were children too, dammit," he yelled back, "but you didn't see either of us cowering to the will of a madman…"

"We didn't have one living in our house and threatening to kill our parents either," she hissed.

"So what? Because he lived with You-Know-Who, you've decided to take pity on him and give up the next two years of your life to ensure he doesn't land himself back into a cell alongside his brethren." Draco's gut twisted at the idea of Hermione only taking him in because she pitied what his life had become.

"I'm not doing this because of pity…Malfoy doesn't deserve prison and I wasn't about to let him be taken in by some family who would abuse him for his part in the war," she spat.

"They can't hurt him, the oaths you take in order to be an advocate keep you from doing so," Ron argued. "I read the damn pamphlet they released, and I know better…"

"They keep you from cursing or physically harming your parolee, yes, but that doesn't mean they have to treat them as humans either. There are plenty of emotional and mental ways in which they could be harmed."

"I don't care," the Weasel snapped. "It's no less than he deserves, in my opinion, and I don't plan to hang around while you attempt to make him a better man."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that as long as he's around don't expect to see me."

"You can't mean that," she nearly cried in disbelief.

"I mean it…as long as he's living with you, you and I are done, 'Mione." Draco waited with bated breath as silence engulfed them. He couldn't help but wonder if she would back out of being his advocate to appease the redheaded ponce.

"I cannot believe…" Hermione began in a strained voice, "that after all this time you're still nothing but a self-centered prat, Ronald Weasley. How dare you show up here and demand I chuck Malfoy out because you feel he doesn't deserve a chance at redemption. Because you feel he should be rotting away in a small stone cell as if he was personally at fault for Fred's death…"

"Don't you dare bring up my brother," Ron growled. "I have more than one reason to hate Malfoy and…"

"I wasn't done," she interrupted, raising her voice several octaves in order to speak over him. "I will not give up my advocacy because of your petty resentment and unearned accusations. We fought this war for equality among all witches and wizards…that includes those who fought against us."

"Then I guess I'll see you in two years, Hermione," he stated aggressively.

"Seriously…" she demanded before he disapparated with a pop. Hermione groaned aloud and ran her hands through her hair as she fought the urge to follow Ron and hex him into understanding. Instead, she exhaled sharply and turned to head up the stairs to check on Draco. As she rounded the banister, she found him freshly showered and standing in clean clothes with his eyes trained on the floor. "I take it you overheard that…"

"Yes," he professed before glancing up at her. "Granger, I don't want to come between you and your friends. I'm certain it'd be easier to…"

"No, Malfoy," she declared, cutting him off before he could suggest leaving. "Even if I gave up my advocacy, my issues with the Weasley's would not be resolved. Their grief has driven a wedge between us that will take months if not years to restore."

"Why? I thought they adored you…"

"They did…until I started attending meetings at the Ministry to ensure fair trials for all those imprisoned," she admitted with a sad smile as his brows furrowed deeper in confusion. "Since losing Fred…" she paused as her eyes momentarily misted, "they haven't been the same. I mean it's understandable and expected, but since the final battle all they've wanted to see is each and every dark witch or wizard punished. They even blame me for persuading Harry into demanding fair trials…" she chuckled mirthlessly, "as if he doesn't have a brain for himself. They blame me entirely for freeing Death Eaters and their supporters alike. I mean after what happened to Sirius and you, one would think they'd understand not everyone deserved to be in that hell hole," she scoffed. "They simply can't see past their grief…"

"Potter helped in obtaining fair trials?" Draco quired, though he vaguely recalled her making the same claim the day she'd visited him in his cell.

"Of course, he did," Hermione exclaimed with a look that clearly indicated he should have known that. But upon realizing he was still confused she sighed, "Look, Harry's godfather was imprisoned for twelve years for a crime he never committed. We both knew you'd been branded against your will and we figured others may have been in similar situations. It's why we pushed so hard for the trials…no one deserves to be imprisoned without being given the chance to explain their side."

"Oh…" was all Draco could muster as he mulled over everything she'd said. He was surprised to find that Potter had worked so hard to free those unjustly imprisoned, but it made sense for a Gryffindor to always do the right thing.

"Anyways, before you ask again, no, I will not hand you back to the Ministry for someone else to take custody of you. Not only did I jump through dozens of hoops to get you here but sending you back could be worse. You could be placed with a wretched family that neglected their duties or they'd send you to Azkaban for your entire probation if no one ever stepped up. I'm not risking it…"

"Why?" Draco wondered aloud, catching her off guard.

"What do you mean 'why'? I've already explained that you didn't deserve…" she began before he interrupted again.

"No, I don't mean why did you secure me a fair trial. I want to know why you bothered advocating for me at all? After everything I've done to you, the names I've called you…why bother helping me?" his silver eyes held her gaze as she stared at him with her mouth slightly ajar, clearly uncertain as to how to respond.

"Because…" she began after snapping her mouth shut, "you deserve a chance to start over without someone mistreating you or telling you who you should be." He didn't say anything as he searched her rich brown orbs for something more…some hidden reason that she wasn't sharing or maybe that she wasn't ready to divulge. If he were honest, he was hoping that the kiss had something to do with it, but he doubted that would be the case.

"Thank you," he murmured softly after diverting his gaze.

"You're welcome, now," she stated evenly before taking a short breath, "are you hungry?" He simply shrugged his shoulders in response, unwilling to admit he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks…months really because while living with the Dark Lord, he was simply too afraid to take regular meals. "Malfoy, you don't need to deny yourself sustenance. In this house we eat when we're hungry, sometimes that's together but, usually, it's at random. I understand how odd it can be to eat at leisure after the last year we've had, but I truly don't wish for you to wait until offered something. Besides, I doubt they had time to feed you lunch today before your trial…"

"We weren't really fed regularly in Azkaban…" he replied softly, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes at his statement. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise before a frown pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Why am I not surprised," she shook her head in irritation and murmured, "and they call muggles barbaric." With another shake of her head and an exasperated sigh, she asked. "Right then, when did you last eat? This morning?"

"I think it was some time yesterday, late evening maybe…I'm honestly not sure," he admitted, judging by how early they'd woken him this morning for the trial he could only assume it was an evening meal. "Without a window, it was difficult to tell the time of day."

"Then you're definitely hungry," she stated in a matter of fact tone. "I doubt you'll eat much after weeks of little food, how about we have soup or stew as it's easy on the stomach?" If she hadn't been paying attention, she would have missed the small grimace he gave at the mention of soup for supper.

"Whatever you wish."

"Don't do that," she chastised, causing his eyes to shoot up to hers in confusion. "I saw you make a face, if you don't like something then just say so."

"It's not that I don't like soup," he tried to explain as he bit his lower lip and glanced around the hall, knowing she'd begin peppering him with questions if he didn't. "It's just…well…" he sighed before looking back at her, "it's all I've had to eat since the day of the final battle."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know," she quickly replied as he averted his gaze to the papered wall behind her. "What would you like then? Kreacher can make just about anything, unfortunately, I'm not a very good cook, but I am learning."

"I find it hard to believe Hermione Granger isn't good at something," he supplied with a small smile. "I'm certain you're cooking is quite delicious and you're simply being too hard on yourself." The brunette witch blushed at his frankness and glanced to the floor before allowing her brown eyes to flicker back up to his soft grey.

"Well, you can just ask Harry when he arrives home for dinner," she lightly argued, enjoying the normalcy of their debate, "he'll tell you, I'm a rubbish cook."

"I'm certain it's better than cold soup with stale bread," he uttered in a low voice, recalling all he'd eaten for over four weeks. The reality of his situation came crashing back and Hermione paled at the thought of how truly terrible Azkaban was.

"Then how about we have something you love," she suggested. "What have you missed eating the most?"

"Honestly?" he asked, wary of whether or not she was serious. When she nodded vigorously, he sighed and continued, "I would love a braised roast with some potatoes."

"I think we can manage that," she declared as her lips quirked up into a smile and her eyes sparkled in the lamplight. Draco's breath caught as her entire being seemed to radiate with happiness over being able to feed him something he'd like, or better yet ease some of his suffering. He bit back a smile and simply watched as she called out, "Kreacher!"

"Miss Minnie called," Kreacher, the ancient house-elf, croaked as he appeared with a crack.

"Yes, Malfoy and I were discussing supper and he was hoping we could have some braised roast with potatoes. Would you be willing to make some?" she questioned genially. Draco had never seen someone treat a house-elf with such kindness and blinked in surprise as the wrinkled creature turned its beady eyes on him.

"Kreacher is most willing to make whatever Master Malfoy would like as he is most honored to serve the last heir to the noble and ancient House of Black."

"Do not call me that," Draco instantly replied in a near growl, causing both Hermione and Kreacher to look at him in astonishment. "I am not your master; Potter is and you dishonor him by calling me such. Do not do so again," he stated vehemently as he realized how uncomfortable being in control of another's life made him feel.

"Kreacher is sorry to have offended the young sir," the elf replied with wide eyes. "Kreacher will not do so again," with that, he bowed and disapparated with a crack.

"Malfoy…"

"I'm sorry, Granger, but I don't wish to be called anyone's master," he supplied as he stared pointedly down at the threadbare carpet, her eyes softened in understanding and she nodded without saying anything more.

After that, Hermione proceeded to give him a tour of the house, informing him that he was allowed to roam anywhere he pleased, as long as it wasn't into Harry's room…idly, he noted that she did not ban him from her own. From there, they made their way back down into the living room with a few books to read while sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits until supper was ready. Just as they took their seats at the table, the floo roared to life and Harry stepped through.

Dusting off the soot from his clothes, he moved into the kitchen and took a seat across from Hermione. "Sorry I'm late, Nott Senior's trial took longer than expected."

"You're fine, Harry, we just sat down," Hermione explained as Draco sat quietly beside her. He was unsure of how The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice would react to having his school nemesis in his home and at his table.

"It smells delicious," Harry declared as he breathed in the enticing aromas before pausing. "You didn't cook this, right?" he inquired as he looked at the dishes on the table. Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes before turning to Draco.

"See, I told you that I was a rubbish cook," she chortled before answering Harry's query. "No, Harry, Kreacher made supper this evening…alone."

"You're not rubbish…" the black-haired wizard muttered sheepishly. "You just haven't quite honed your skillset yet…"

"Har har," she snarked as Draco's eyes widened. "You meant rubbish and I know it," she laughed and tossed a roll at her oldest friend.

"Hey, I still eat your food," Harry insisted, "no matter how it tastes…or have you forgotten about the toadstool soup you made this past fall?" Hermione's eyes widened and she flushed a deep crimson as Draco's lip curled in disgust. "Even though that's the worst thing I've ever eaten, and may I remind you I've had Hagrid's rock cakes," he chortled as Hermione and Draco reluctantly smiled, "it was still edible...unlike the disastrous concoctions Ron attempted to feed us. Thank Merlin we were near that farm and were able to collect a few eggs…" he laughed a bit more until he realized the smiles had slipped from the others' faces and their eyes were intently focused on the food.

The uncomfortable feeling of guilt washed over Draco at the reminder that Hermione had distanced herself from the red-haired family and one of her closest friends to save him from spending the next few years in Azkaban. As his mind swirled with reasons he should leave, he felt Hermione place a reassuring hand on his right forearm. His head snapped up in surprise and his eyes met her knowing brown irises. She simply shook her head once and he knew not to bother broaching the topic again.

"What happened?" Harry inquired as he watched the exchange between them.

"Nothing important," Hermione uttered calmly as she resumed eating her roast.

"Save that for someone who doesn't know you, 'Mione," Harry growled. "What'd Ron do this time?" he asked firmly as she clenched her jaw and chanced a glance at Draco. She noticed how his shoulders were slumped and full of tension as he stared at his food with a remorseful expression.

"He stopped by a few hours ago and gave me an ultimatum which I refused," she stated simply, knowing Harry wouldn't let it go.

"What was it this time?"

"It doesn't matter, Harry..."

"It does matter, what's the prat said now?" Hermione pursed her lips and leveled her green-eyed friend with a look that clearly informed him it was none of his business as she'd already handled it.

"He told her that if she didn't send me back, he would have nothing to do with her until my probation was up and I was gone," Draco supplied quietly, even though Hermione shot him a glare. "When she refused, he said he'd see her in two years and disapparated." Harry sighed and shook his head as he set down his fork and grasped her hand.

"You know he didn't mean it. He's just angry and hurt…give him some time," Harry nearly pleaded. Draco internally rolled his eyes at how the Chosen One simply didn't understand that Weasley had no excuse to treat Hermione that way. Grief or not, no true friend would give someone an ultimatum to go against everything they believed in.

"No, Harry, he did mean it," she articulated evenly as she gently pulled her hand from his. "He's still furious with me for refusing to be his witch; as if I'd be with him after everything he pulled in our sixth year…or after he ran out on us last fall," she scoffed and shook her head. Draco wasn't surprised to hear that after the Weasel had ostracized Granger for a year while dating Lavender Brown that she would no longer return his affections. In fact, knowing that she was unwilling to compromise nearly made him smile…that is until he recalled how he'd treated her for the better part of six years. "And, Harry," she continued, bringing Draco out of his thoughts, "I know he's still grieving Fred, but that doesn't give him the right to dictate my life."

"True," Harry nodded, clearly unsure of what else to say. Instead of delving further into an uncomfortable conversation, he changed topics as he resumed eating. "Did you find everything you needed in your room, Malfoy?"

"Yes," he replied before clearing his throat, "thank you for picking it up for me. H-how was…" he trailed off, unsure if he was allowed to inquire about his mother or if that was a breach of his probation.

"She's good," Harry began, understanding the unasked question. "A little thinner than usual, like yourself, but I think given a few weeks she'll be back to normal. She wasn't allowed to write you a note, but I offered to pass along a message for her." He watched as the blondes' eyes widened and lit with a small flicker of happiness. "Naturally, she sends her love, but she also wanted me to inform you that the Greengrass family has broken your betrothal contract. Something in some clause or another dictated you weren't allowed to be incarcerated or some rubbish," Harry relayed as Hermione glanced at Draco, trying her best to gauge his reaction.

"Good, I wasn't looking forward to being forced into a marriage with Astoria as it was."

"Yes, well, she also told me to tell you that if you wed before her three years of house arrest were up that she'll invoke the right to name your firstborn and promises it'll be something horrid such as Barnabus," Harry chuckled as Draco's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline at his mother's threat. How she could possibly think someone would want to marry a disgraced ex-Death Eater was beyond him. At that thought, the memory of Hermione kissing him in his prison cell flitted into his mind and he had to squash it down, reminding himself she'd only done so because he'd been upset.

"I doubt that'll be an issue," he muttered evasively as he averted his eyes, refusing to look at the curly-haired witch beside him.

"Well, nonetheless she wanted me to let you know," Harry continued. "Outside of that she simply asked that you take care of yourself and not waste the chance you've been offered at absolution." Silence hung in the air between them as Harry finished and tears welled in Draco's silver eyes.

"Thanks, Potter," he murmured as he blinked rapidly and resumed eating. Knowing his mother was going to be alright helped ease the concern he'd had for her since his arrest. He finished his meal in silence as the other two discussed the trials from court. The crimes of Nott Senior, Yaxley, and Macnair were brutal and well-known, so it came as no surprise that each had been sentenced to the Dementor's kiss. The details eradicated the cheerful atmosphere and left each of them quietly recalling various aspects of the war. As dinner finished, they each decided to retire for the evening to either sort through their own pain or to sleep…Draco wasn't sure.

After changing into his pajamas and slipping into bed he gripped his wand and erected a silencing spell so the others wouldn't hear his screams from the nightmares which plagued him. Little did he know that both Harry and Hermione did the same each night to try and save the other from their pain.