Relentless - A Dramione FanFic

First Morning

a/n: I am so excited to finally get into the good stuff I have running through my head.  Expect more Dramione moments in every chapter!!!  Please leave me feedback.  Comments and votes are greatly appreciated.  @LucyYoung1 - thanks for being my first voter/commenter.

Special thanks to @bookworm1993 for giving me an honest review.  I hope I've made the necessary changes to make things less confusing.

Sleep did not come easy after her encounter with Draco.  She had done her part by making him aware the bedrooms had been selected.  He was a big boy and if he chose to remain in the common room rather than go to bed, that was up to him.  So why did she find herself laying awake, listening for his footsteps?

"Stop it Hermione.  Why do you care if Draco gets any sleep?  This is the boy - no, man now - who tortured you and Ron and Harry for the last seven years.  His well-being should be of no concern to you.  Just close your eyes and get the sleep you so desperately need.  But, they way he was tonight.  It was... different.  He didn't sneer or make hateful comments.  He was actually polite and amicable.  He even agreed with Ron.  And Professor McGonagall has set up these living arrangements; surely she knows what she's doing.  But he's still the boy you've hated for good reason."

Her thoughts ran themselves in circles.  She could not shake the feeling that there was something more to Draco Malfoy than the evil death eater she knew him to be.  Sleep had nearly overtaken her when she heard the floorboards outside her bedroom creak quietly.  She listened intently, and heard them make their way down the landing to the far room.  A door opened, then closed.  He was in his room.  Her eyes fell shut as a subconscious smile spread across her lips.

***

Draco was careful not to make much noise as he made his way to his bedroom.  He found his trunk at the foot of his bed and pulled his hygiene kit out so he could brush his teeth before hitting the sack. As he made his final rinse, he looked himself straight in the eye in the mirror and was pleased to see warm, lively eyes staring back at him.  

For so many years all he could see in his reflection was self-loathing.  He hated himself for playing the role of bastard so well.  It broke his heart to do it, but he'd been groomed for it his whole life, so part of it came naturally.  That part of himself always frightened Draco.  He was his father's son after all. As hard as he tried to internally distance himself from his family's bigotry, outwardly he had to walk in it that much more.  What if Lucius' blood running through his veins somehow overruled his own heart and he began to believe the words he was saying.  He lived in constant fear of losing the real him behind the illusion he'd created to keep her safe.  Now that the war was over, and Voldemort no longer a threat, however, he was able to release that fear, and show everyone who he truly was.  He hoped they'd understand and accept him.

As he crawled into bed, he replayed the conversation he had had with Dumbledore's portrait that evening.

"Dear boy, what do you possibly have to be sorry about?"

"Well, half of you are up there because of me."  Draco answered his former headmaster.

"That's nonsense and you know it.  You might want to punish yourself for the lives that were lost during the war, but each of us made our own choices to fight.  Our lives were our own, as were our deaths.  You are no more responsible for our passings than you are for the sun coming up or going down.  As a matter fact, if it hadn't been for your extraordinary bravery, there would most likely be more of us hanging up here right now.  Possibly even you.  You did what you had to do to keep yourself alive, and in doing so, you saved countless other lives by communicating Voldemort's plans to the order from the inside."  The wizard's tone was firm but caring.