Chapter Three: The Revelation

The next evening, Hermione found herself in the Room of Requirement again, the door materializing just as it always had when she had needed it most. But tonight, she wasn’t looking for comfort. Tonight, she was looking for the truth.

The air inside was still, the room empty except for the dim flicker of candles casting long shadows against the walls. She felt a shiver of anticipation as she walked further into the room, her footsteps echoing softly. She was alone for now—but she wouldn’t be for long.

Draco had been following her for days now, quietly observing from a distance. He had felt it, too—the change between them, the gap that had formed. And it terrified him.

Tonight, he had to confront her. He had to explain, even if it meant losing her forever.

Hermione’s breath caught when she heard the door creak open behind her. She turned quickly to see Draco standing there, his posture tense and guarded, but his expression... there was something different in it now. Something raw.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I wasn’t sure I could stay away,” Draco replied softly, his voice full of reluctant sincerity.

A long silence passed between them, neither moving. Hermione swallowed hard, her heart racing. This was it. The moment she had been avoiding. The moment she had feared.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Why did you erase my memories? What did you do?”

Draco hesitated. He had known this moment was coming, but that didn’t make it easier. “I did it to protect you,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “I thought... I thought it would be easier if you forgot what happened between us.”

“*What happened*?” Hermione asked sharply, her pulse quickening. “What do you mean? What could you possibly think could be easier about making me forget?”

His face softened, his eyes flicking down to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze. “We... we weren’t supposed to be together, Hermione. Not after everything. After everything I’ve done. I thought you’d be better off without the memory of what we shared. I thought I was protecting you.”

Hermione's heart felt as though it was splitting in two. *What they shared?* She could barely remember what that even meant, but a piece of her, deep inside, *knew*. It was there, in the pit of her stomach, a gnawing ache that she couldn’t ignore.

“You erased my memory of *us*?” she whispered, a horrible realization dawning on her.

“I had to,” Draco said, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching into a fist. “I thought it was the only way to keep you safe. To keep us safe.”

Hermione felt her legs tremble beneath her. *Safe?* Safe from what? From *him*? The very thought was so absurd, it made her want to laugh—and cry—at the same time.

“I loved you,” Draco added quietly, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “And I thought you were better off forgetting me. Forgetting... everything.”

The room seemed to spin around her as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in her mind. *No.* She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it. But in the depths of her heart, she knew it was true.

She had loved Draco Malfoy.

And now, everything he had tried to protect her from had come crashing down in the form of a broken, half-remembered truth.

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