Draco was in shock. He had never thought, in a million years, that Hermione Granger would accept his apology. Yet there she was- standing next to him with a sight smile on her face, literally holding his hand in hers. He looked at her; he tried to hide the smile that his face portrayed, but couldn't. The side that wanted to smile- that wanted to be happy- was too overpowering. That side of him just wanted to stay there- with her- and didn't want to leave.
"Why?" he asked quietly, looking over at her. She turned her head, confused. "Why do you forgive me? Why do you believe me?"
Hermione turned towards him, not letting go of his hand. She smiled, staring at the moonlit water for a second. "Because you're a good person. I believe that you are. So, there's no reason not to believe you, even if someone else- anyone else- might not." Their gazes didn't waver; they stayed even, and neither looked away. "I can see through what others can't."
Draco simply looked at her- it felt like a gigantic weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He seemed calmer- glad that someone else understood. The two of them just looked into the distance; at the glimmering water, at the nightingales flying overhead, and simply at the sky. After a while, they sat down on the sand. Hermione's mind kept traveling back to the situation that had occurred two days prior. Her head kept filling with Ron and Lavender- how outraged he looked- and how he had believed such an obvious lie. Yet here she was- with Draco Malfoy of all people. But...he seemed to understand her. He seemed to feel her pain; though maybe not in the same way, he still could. That was one of the many differences between him and Ron- no, Weasley. He didn't deserve to be called by his first name, even by her. Especially by her. Hermione exhaled, clearing that one thought out of her head. Back to the point. Weasley never empathized the way Draco did. He would always say, "I know, Hermione. It's going to be fine." But the words were empty. His eyes never portrayed anything. Draco meant what he said- he could speak through his silver gaze, not needing words to tell what he meant. And that, in a way, was an ability that few had.

Hermione was standing next to him, holding his hand. Draco smiled at the thought; his mind filled with the image of his father- of his aunt Bellatrix- of the Dark Lord himself. What would they say? How would they torture him for being with Hermione? His teeth clenched as he thought about what they could do to her. Unconsciously, his grip on her hand tightened. Since his third year, he had admired Hermione. He had liked her, as some would say. But now...everything could crumble to dust in a matter of minutes. They would torture her- kill her, even. And there would be nothing he could do.
"Draco." she whispered, turning to face him. He snapped out of that state, thoughts vanishing suddenly. That was one thing about her- one simple word- saying his name- could drive all negative thoughts away.
"Thank you." he said quietly, glancing at her.
She just gave a small smile, leaning her head on his his shoulder. "Whatever is is..." she murmured "It's going to be fine."