novelraw Chapter 115: Draco's Kindness
Chapter 115: Draco's Kindness
A few days later, Draco Malfoy finally understood what Sirius Black meant.
Resentment and discontent were pouring in on Harry from all sides—making him need his friends' support more than ever.
"Put it on, Draco." That day, Pansy Parkinson held up an enormous badge and waved it in front of him. "A Slytherin-Hufflepuff collaboration badge!"
Draco stared silently at the bright red letters on the badge: "Support Cedric Diggory—The Real Hogwarts Champion," which, when Pansy pressed it, turned into glowing green letters: "POTTER STINKS."
The badge shimmered, as if from another world.
This strange yet familiar thing evoked so many memories of his past.
In his past life, Draco had also eagerly donned the badge and relentlessly mocked Harry. He'd believed it was a farce orchestrated by "Dumbledore's darling" to gain attention, yet another instance of rule-breaking without any punishment—unfair treatment.
Exemption from final exams, gaining widespread attention, competing alongside Quidditch idols like Krum... In the eyes of those naive, arrogant, and foolish young wizards, this only had countless advantages and no disadvantages.
At that time, he hadn't understood what it meant to be a champion in the Triwizard Tournament.
At that time, he'd still believed the "true champions of Hogwarts" would gain glory, not death.
However, now—"I won't wear it, and I suggest you don't either." Draco didn't reach for the badge in Pansy's hand, but instead flipped through the *Daily Prophet* in his hand, intending to continue reading.
Pansy's group of friends gasped in displeasure.
"Draco, what do you mean?" Pansy's face darkened, feeling deeply embarrassed that someone wasn't buying into her scheme. "Are you going to support Potter, who used underhanded tactics to embarrass Hogwarts, instead of Diggory, who was chosen through the Goblet of Fire?"
"Use your brain—don't just parrot what others say. Since they've all been chosen by the Goblet of Fire, they're all Hogwarts champions." Draco put down his newspaper and said calmly. "Isn't the competition from other schools fierce enough? Does Hogwarts need internal conflict? Don't you think the other two schools will laugh at us?"
Pansy glared at him angrily, and was speechless for a moment.
"They're already laughing at us! Krum hasn't even wanted to sign autographs for us lately! I'd wager it's all because of Potter!" A girl behind her—Daphne Greengrass—suddenly exclaimed, prompting Theodore Nott, who was engrossed in a Potions magazine, to glance up at her. "Potter's actions have tarnished Hogwarts' reputation, and we have to distance ourselves from him! Otherwise, everyone will think Hogwarts used underhanded tactics to squeeze two people into the Triwizard Tournament—"
"Did I speak to you?" Draco said coldly, without even glancing at her, and continued to Pansy. "Harry Potter is the fourth champion to participate in the Triwizard Tournament—that's a given. If he loses or is disgraced, people won't single him out to criticize; they'll just say, 'The champion from Hogwarts—Harry Potter—lost or was disgraced.' You understand?"
"Why should we? Are we to let this rotten apple ruin our reputation? A disgrace from Gryffindor tarnishes the glory of Slytherin—" Pansy said angrily.
"Pansy Parkinson, don't forget one thing," he said calmly, staring at Pansy's suddenly stiff face. "Whether he comes from Gryffindor or Slytherin, he'll always be a part of Hogwarts—just as you'll always be a part of Hogwarts—for better or for worse. Do you understand?"
Pansy moved her lips but didn't say anything. She watched helplessly as the boy stood up from the armchair by the fireplace, holding the rolled-up newspaper, and walked away indifferently in the awkward atmosphere.
"I don't understand!" After the girls left in disappointment, Pansy sat down angrily before Theodore. "Aren't you going to do anything about Draco, his saviour? He's been supporting Potter lately, which isn't exactly popular with the Slytherins. He seems to listen to you, doesn't he?"
"In fact, he makes a lot of sense." Theodore put down his magazine, a thoughtful look on his face. "Pansy, first, you have to be registered in Hogwarts' Book of Admittance by the Quill of Acceptance, and then you'll be Sorted into Slytherin by the Sorting Hat. Ultimately, you have to be a Hogwarts student before they'll even consider whether you're a Slytherin."
"Oh, so you're on Draco's side too, just like Blaise?" Pansy said dejectedly. "Am I the villain again?"
"You're not a villain," Theodore smiled faintly. He suddenly countered, "But you're always the first to jump out and play the villain, aren't you? Why is that? Why don't those who whisper in your ear, supporting your views, speak up first?"
Pansy looked at him in surprise—Theodore, this withdrawn boy, had actually said so much to her today?
She was somewhat confused and lost, and left with a frown.
The badge was left forgotten on the seat, gleaming forlornly.
However, whilst Draco could control his own behaviour and some of his friends' behaviour, he couldn't control everyone's behaviour.
In recent days, students from the three Houses other than Gryffindor had shown varying degrees of contempt and hostility toward Harry.
The Hufflepuff students, in their support of their hero Cedric, collectively scoffed at Harry, who'd suddenly appeared out of nowhere; the Slytherin students, who already harboured a natural hostility toward the Gryffindor students, intensified their hostility even further; the Ravenclaw students, though seemingly uninvolved, had many of them brazenly wearing the "POTTER STINKS" badge.
Within Gryffindor House, though seemingly peaceful and serene, undercurrents were swirling. Ron Weasley, Harry's close friend who should have been supporting him, inappropriately quarrelled with him, leaving Harry in a miserable predicament, besieged on all sides.
The only moment that could bring a smile to this unfortunate champion's face was when the owl named Hedwig appeared at the Gryffindor table. Every few days, she would bring Harry a greeting from Sirius Black—sometimes an expensive broomstick grooming kit, sometimes a large basket of Honeydukes' finest sweets.
In the days following the gifts from his godfather, Harry's attitude visibly became more optimistic. He tried to appear less concerned about the badges people wore in the corridors, focusing instead on having Hermione instruct him on the theory of the Disillusionment Charm and the Summoning Charm in the library.
Draco had mixed feelings about this.
On one hand, Hermione's misplaced energy was somewhat diverted by Harry, and she could no longer focus solely on her S.P.E.W. membership recruitment campaign. Harry had told him this dreadful organization was already driving the Gryffindors mad.
"I paid her two Sickles just to shut her up, but she only got louder. Not many people are on her side—they all think it's a joke," Harry told Draco, walking toward the Owlery. "Even Hagrid's getting fed up with her. One day they debated house-elves for over two hours, and it ended badly…"
"She's probably very annoyed," Draco said casually.
"Very annoyed." Harry shrugged.
On the other hand, Rita Skeeter—this woman who thrived on chaos—ingeniously turned the champions' interview into some kind of whimsical gossip because of Hermione's close relationship with Harry.
*"Harry has finally found his first love at Hogwarts. His close friend Colin Creevey says that Harry is inseparable from a girl named Hermione Granger. Miss Granger is stunningly beautiful, comes from a Muggle family, and, like Harry, is one of the school's top students... We still don't know what this ambitious girl's true feelings are for Harry—is it genuine affection or just a passing fancy..."*
Draco found it difficult to describe his feelings upon seeing the article. It wasn't the first time he'd read Rita Skeeter's rubbish—he'd seen it countless times in his past life—but this time, his feelings were quite peculiar.
In a sense, he knew this was mostly nonsense; but from another perspective, Hermione had always been very close to Harry—both in their past and present lives—so Rita Skeeter's words couldn't be entirely dismissed as baseless.
"Did you say that?" On the day he saw the newspaper, Draco couldn't help but stop Colin Creevey, the one who'd spread the rumours, in the corridor, throw the newspaper in his face, and ask coldly.
"It's a misunderstanding!" The Gryffindor boy glanced at the newspaper, looked at him in surprise, and said, bewildered. "I've already explained it to Harry and Granger—"
"Is it enough to just explain to those involved? It's easy to spread rumours, but it takes tremendous effort to refute them—don't you understand?" Draco gave him a sinister look. "Do your laughable explanations have the same influence as the *Daily Prophet*?"
The small boy stood there, pale-faced, tears welling in his eyes. He murmured, "I wasn't entirely wrong. They often study together in the library... I don't know why that reporter misinterpreted it like that..."
"I don't care what you said—you'd better keep your mouth shut. Otherwise, I'll throw you into the Black Lake to feed the Giant Squid, or into the Forbidden Forest to feed the werewolves!" Draco, enraged, threatened the big-mouthed boy, snatched the newspaper from his hands, and strode away.
He knew he was taking his anger out on others. But he just couldn't help it.
Walking angrily, Draco suddenly realized an indelible truth:
Hermione and Harry were both Gryffindors, so they had more time to spend together and might have more in common.
Hermione was always happy to help Harry, just as Harry was happy to help Hermione.
In her past life, when she'd been in seventh year, she'd even dropped out of school with him—for some unknown reason—now that he thought about it, it might have been to find and destroy Horcruxes.
Those long-frozen memories gradually surfaced, and bubbles of anxiety rose in the lake of his heart.
Yes, Draco Malfoy was bothered by it, and increasingly so.
*Harry must really like Hermione.*
After this idea came to mind, Draco began finding the sight of the two people in the library studying spells together somewhat irritating.
He could no longer ignore the sight of them studying side by side.
He even had to abandon his routine homework supervision for Crabbe and Goyle, abruptly stepping between them, swaggering to separate them, and meddlesomely asking, "Let me help you, Harry. I'm very proficient with these two spells. What aren't you understanding? Oh, the Summoning Charm isn't working well? Are you not concentrating?"
"I'm trying to concentrate..." Harry said irritably. "But somehow, a huge dragon keeps popping into my head..."
"Oh, why don't you try starting with small objects—" Draco said in a drawn-out tone. "I'd rather try summoning a fly than a thick dictionary…"
Hermione Granger felt Draco was acting strangely again.
This lazy, carefree Slytherin, who claimed to be incredibly selfish and always looking out for himself, would often take the initiative to tutor Harry in spells—with an uncanny, tireless attitude—and impart all his knowledge to Harry.
He was very enthusiastic about Harry—even overly enthusiastic—the kind of enthusiasm that asked for nothing in return and disregarded the consequences.
In Hogwarts today, it wasn't easy to help Harry despite everyone's disdain. Hermione understood this because she was experiencing and facing this difficulty herself—one wrong move and she could become the target of everyone's harsh criticism.
She'd assumed Draco, a Slytherin accustomed to assessing situations, would protect himself and at least keep his distance from this murky water in public.
That fitted his "selfish and self-serving" persona, didn't it?
However, he appeared strangely between her and Harry, tirelessly guiding the mentally unstable Harry, and even taking a moment to say to her in a strained yet enthusiastic tone, "Hermione, what are you daydreaming about? Don't you still have house-elf rights to research? Go on—the house-elves are starving and waiting for your rescue!"
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "My Summoning Charm is approved by Professor Flitwick! Do you think I can't teach him?"
"Of course I'm not trying to get rid of you. I fully admire your spellcasting abilities—who can forget the spectacular sight of blackboard rubbers, wastepaper baskets, and lunar charts flying around you?" Draco said lazily, feeling like he was probably going mad for giving her more unrealistic advice. "But seriously, I'm more than capable of tutoring Harry myself; you should relax a bit. Why not try to recruit more S.P.E.W. members? Have you forgotten our wager? Why not broaden your horizons and try recruiting students from other Houses instead of just limiting yourself to your own?"
This was so peculiar. Hermione, clutching her books, left the library, glancing back every few steps.
"Why are you encouraging her ridiculous behaviour?" Harry stood frozen in his seat, stammering as he asked Draco. "You're not even a member, yet you're encouraging her?"
Draco ignored his question and instead asked bluntly, "Haven't you made up with Ron yet?"
"No," Harry said curtly.
Draco rolled his eyes. "What about the other students in your House?"
"They still think I entered myself, despite my countless explanations to them," Harry said with a straight face.
"I regret that," Draco sighed, then hesitated before saying. "Uh—I have something I'd like to ask you."
"What?" Harry looked at the thick stack of books Hermione had left him, unsure which one to read first.
"What do you think of Hermione?" Draco asked nervously.
"If she doesn't make me S.P.E.W.'s secretary—" Harry said irritably.
"It has nothing to do with S.P.E.W.," Draco interrupted him.
"Oh, she's too focused on theory, always making me read those books, even though I think I should be practising more hands-on skills now—" Harry said with annoyance, flipping through one of the thick books Hermione had left him.
"That's right," Draco said irritably. "I mean, do you like her?"
"What? What do you mean?" Harry stopped turning the pages, and his green eyes behind his glasses seemed to flash for a moment.
"It's a very simple question—do you like her?" Draco asked bluntly.
"Oh, you read that newspaper, didn't you?" Harry suddenly fell silent, scrutinizing him with a critical eye.
This gaze made Draco feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"That's right," he muttered.
"Draco, the question has never been whether I like her or not, but whether you like her or not." Harry asked with certainty. "Don't you think of her as your sister?"
The tone of his voice struck Draco as somewhat grating.
"I never thought she was..." he muttered, his voice trailing off.
"Draco, I'm not the kind of person who can't distinguish my own feelings," Harry said meaningfully. "I'm quite sure she's like an older sister to me. It's nothing like the 'sister' someone once talked about—there's no ambiguity at all. I think she feels the same way."
"Are you sure?" Draco felt his face burning. But he still looked up at the dark-haired boy. "Just sibling affection?"
"Absolutely. Ever since I met her, she's been like a sister to me, encouraging me, taking care of me, and supporting me." Harry looked at him with particularly earnest eyes. "Hermione—she's always been so generous in helping me, ignoring all the gossip. These days, she's endured the slander from the *Daily Prophet* and the ridicule from my opponents because of me, but she's never left me. She's always been loyal to me, and I'm so grateful to her. No one could do better than her."
"That's right," Draco agreed.
"Listen, I—I don't want her to cry because of anyone anymore." Harry's expression suddenly turned uneasy. "If you can't guarantee she won't cry, then don't bother her. Draco, do you understand?"
"Oh—I understand," Draco said softly, his expression turning serious.
He suddenly realized the boy before him seemed to have seen right through him. It seemed Harry had grown up drastically overnight. Or perhaps not overnight, but rather, he'd grown tremendously in the past four years.
Harry no longer seemed to be the clueless boy Draco first met in Diagon Alley. Nor was he as naive and ignorant as Draco had once thought. In some ways, Harry's insight was remarkably sharp.
"Very good." Harry considered the seriousness of his words for a moment, then finally broke into his first smile of the day. "I'm glad we've made this clear."
"Me too," Draco smiled deeply. "I'm very happy."
Hermione Granger had no idea how profound the conversations between the two boys were behind her back.
She walked into the Gryffindor common room, full of doubt, intending to find her best friend Ginny Weasley and try to work out the logic behind Draco's recent strange behaviour, but unexpectedly, she ran into Ron.
"Where's Harry?" he asked nervously, stopping her.
"Oh, Ron, are you two finally making up?" Hermione said, beaming with joy and feeling a sense of relief.
"No, actually, I still need you to relay my message," Ron said awkwardly.
"I'm not an owl!" Hermione said irritably.
"Please, just this once, and don't let it happen again," Ron said solemnly. "This is a matter of life and death!"
"Fine!" she huffed, leading Ron back to the library, interrupting Draco and Harry's newly begun lesson on Summoning Charms, and taking the boys to the Black Lake.
"Say what you want to say quickly!" she said impatiently. "I have loads of things to do!"
So Draco Malfoy stood under the oak tree by the Black Lake, checking Crabbe and Goyle's newly completed Defence Against the Dark Arts homework, whilst watching Hermione run back and forth between the two sulking boys.
Like a hardworking house-elf, the girl helplessly relayed fragmented messages.
It was less of actual news and more of pointless chatter and idle gossip.
Hermione Granger's time and energy shouldn't be wasted on this. Draco rolled his eyes and muttered, "A complete waste!"
Furthermore, if she made a few more trips, Draco could imagine Rita Skeeter's front page tomorrow—*"The Gryffindor Prodigy Who's Two-Timing"*—what a melodramatic plot.
"Expelliarmus!" Draco, unable to contain his anger, drew his wand.
Harry and Ron's wands were disarmed. They looked at Draco in surprise, still not understanding what had happened. He waved his wand, conjured a rope, tied them back-to-back, and whistled with satisfaction.
Harry and Ron glared at him.
"Let us go!" they shouted in unison.
"No! Unless you two make up and apologize to each other, you're tied up here till you see sense! Crabbe, Goyle, watch them until they genuinely reconcile." Draco glanced at Harry and Ron—they were still struggling defiantly.
Crabbe and Goyle—more than happy to have the chance to see Harry and Ron in such a predicament—grinned at Draco's request, eager to see them make fools of themselves.
"Weren't we having a great time just now?" Harry said incredulously. "Draco, how can you turn on me like this?"
"It's precisely because we're having such a pleasant conversation that I understand you two need dialogue to clear up the misunderstanding!" Draco said mercilessly. "Giving each other the cold shoulder won't solve anything, you two idiots!"
"How dare you call us idiots?" Ron was so angry his face turned red.
"That's right!" Harry said, his face flushed.
"Very good—you've reached quite a few points of agreement," Draco said gleefully, handing their wands to Hermione. "You two are in the same boat—keep it up."
"Draco, do you think this is appropriate?" Hermione asked, holding the two wands, looking bewildered. "Isn't this too simplistic and crude?"
"I've seen you try to persuade them. Obviously, persuasion doesn't work, does it? They have to be tied together for them to talk properly," he said in a drawn-out tone. "Sometimes, I think their friendship needs a bit of passion—say, a common enemy."
"Does this enemy have to be you?" Hermione asked, disagreeing. "Are you sure they won't complain about you afterwards?"
"Oh, well, they can only complain about me, the villain of Slytherin, after they've made up. Seriously, I'm tired of their petty, passive-aggressive antics," Draco said impatiently. "I think they have more important things to worry about. Besides, their behaviour is seriously affecting others."
"Who's being affected?" Hermione was still glancing worriedly at Harry and Ron, who were twisted into a pretzel behind her—this attitude made Draco feel uneasy.
"You," Draco said, pulling her into the castle without another word, not allowing her to look back. "Our collaborative Arithmancy and Divination homework isn't finished yet! And the translation of the Ancient Runes! And the antidote analysis essay for Potions class! We should finish them today, shouldn't we?"
"That's right," Hermione agreed, her mind still filled with confusion.
Just a few days ago, Draco hadn't taken Harry and Ron's antics to heart. Asking him to talk to Harry was like asking him to harm himself!
At this moment, why was he unusually enthusiastic—his attitude had changed drastically, and he was so eager for them to reconcile? She was led by him to a comfortable seat in the library corner, as confused as a small insect that had wandered into a Venus flytrap, completely unaware of where the end of the maze was.
In any case, Draco's simple and brutal method worked.
During dinner, Harry and Ron had already put their arms around each other again and came to Hermione to meekly receive their wands.
*That's more like it!* Draco thought with satisfaction.
So he and Hermione could study peacefully in the library corner again. No one could disturb them, not even Viktor Krum, who was a regular at the library.
However, groups of girls would often hide behind the bookshelves to spy on Krum, ruining the quiet atmosphere of the library, which would occasionally make Hermione as furious as Madam Pince.
"He's not good-looking at all!" Hermione snapped, slamming her quill onto a scrambled piece of parchment covered in Arithmancy homework—staring at Draco's sharply defined profile. "They fancy him only because he's famous! If he hadn't been doing that Wronski Feint—"
"Wronski Feint." Draco struggled to suppress his laughter and cast a Silencing Charm on their corner.
Normally, he would never tolerate anyone bungling Quidditch terminology; but at this moment, all her ignorance and contempt seemed delightful. It would have been perfect if she hadn't been staring at Krum so intently.
"Have some tea to calm down," he said cheerfully, taking a small silver spoon to add more sugar to her cup. "Arithmancy problems do require concentration. Take a break, and then we'll do them again from the beginning."
On the Saturday before the first Triwizard Tournament task began, the school granted permission for students in third year and above to visit Hogsmeade village.
Draco, walking along the road, was eager to see the new consultant of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He was curious to see who this person was who could attract such favour from the Weasley twins.
He'd considered some possibilities regarding the adviser—nothing more than a gifted senior student—but when he sat in that cramped sitting room on the second floor of the shop, he realized he was completely wrong.
Remus Lupin was sitting across the table.
He was still dressed in shabby robes, looking even thinner than before, but his eyes remained as gentle as ever. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes when he saw Draco's platinum-blond hair appear at the top of the stairs.
To be honest, Draco hadn't expected to see him again for a long time. In his previous life, Lupin had only appeared in his memory for a short year, and his last impression of him was his werewolf identity; the next time he'd seen him was during the final battle, when he was fighting against the Death Eaters with his newlywed wife.
Draco completely forgot one thing: werewolves also needed to work hard to survive in this conservative wizarding society; they also needed jobs and wages.
"How's it going?" George said excitedly. "We've brought in the former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor to be our consultant!"
"And he's the best professor of all time!" Fred grinned. "Unlike the current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who's barking mad!"
After the initial shock, Draco quickly calmed down and said to Lupin calmly, "I'd wager you're just as mad as anyone else."
"I think you're well aware of my madness," Lupin said, forcing a smile. "But I never imagined you were this mad too."
His gaze lingered between Draco and the Weasley twins, then swept over the shop.
Malfoy's investment in Weasley was a business combination that surprised everyone.
"Life needs a little joy. Happiness is worth investing in." Draco nodded calmly toward the Weasley twins, his words carrying deeper meaning. "However, right now, I'm more concerned about whether they know about your madness, and the small dangers that might arise from it."
"We know who he is. He told us ages ago. We think it's brilliant," Fred said nonchalantly.
"To be honest, we don't really care," George said with a smile. "There are measures that can be taken to avoid harm."
Of course, this made perfect sense—the Weasley twins had always been very open-minded.
Since they were willing to cooperate with a Malfoy, why wouldn't they accept a werewolf adviser? Draco rubbed his temples, realizing he really shouldn't be too surprised by this.
"Oh, right, if you're referring to the nearby Shrieking Shack, perhaps," Draco said lazily. "It's not exactly the best solution."
"I understand." Lupin's smile turned wry. He said gently, "I completely respect your opinion. I completely understand—after such a night—it's only natural you don't want to see me around."
He stood up, ready to shake hands with Draco and say goodbye.
Draco looked indifferently at the pale, thin hand that was outstretched to him, but didn't take it.
He'd originally wanted to refuse Lupin.
But suddenly, he remembered a certain cold, snowy day.
He remembered a girl who'd once stood in the snow, stubbornly refusing to move forward. Her gaze was intense, filled with an indomitable spirit, as she looked at him, shivering in the cold air, and asked, *"Does a person's talent, personality, and thoughts not matter? Does a person's effort, hard work, and erudition mean nothing? Just because he's a werewolf, should he be rejected and condemned to social death?"*
Hermione Granger, the girl who was always on his mind!
Draco sighed softly in resignation.
"Of course I remember that night vividly, which is why I said I don't think these measures are adequate." He sat up straight. "Please sit down first—I haven't finished speaking. You may not know this, but during term time, I learned the complete method for brewing the improved Wolfsbane Potion from Professor Snape. In fact, I participated in brewing the potion you drank later."
Lupin's expression changed.
He'd been suppressing his disappointment and maintaining a certain calm, but now that calm had been shattered.
The boy before him said cautiously, "The condition for me to approve this position is that you must take Wolfsbane Potion regularly every month. What happened last time must never happen again—absolutely not."
Lupin sat down again, trembling, with an incredulous expression on his face.
He stammered, "Oh, I see—"
"Your wages will be decent, but you'll receive very little money. I'll use most of your wages to buy ingredients for Wolfsbane Potion. I'll brew it every month and have George or Fred deliver it to you. What do you think?" Draco scrutinized his expression.
"All right, of course—I have no objection," Lupin said hastily.
He was stunned by this stroke of good fortune—he'd never imagined that anywhere other than Hogwarts could offer him a job with Wolfsbane as part of his wages.
"You'll need to stay here to look after the shop. We can provide you with a room above the premises. The last time Mundungus came to steal things in the area is still fresh in our minds, so we need to strengthen security measures. You don't have any objections, do you?" Draco asked, rubbing his temples, looking somewhat tired.
"No."
"The kitchen is in the cellar, but nobody wants to use it. So we provide a daily meal allowance for staff. It's not much, but it's enough to keep you fed. You don't mind, do you?" Draco said with a yawn.
"No."
"You must sign a powerful magical contract, prohibiting disclosure of my identity and the shop's core technology. No one is allowed to know, not even Sirius Black." Draco raised his eyelids and glanced at him. "Can you do that?"
"All right," Lupin said softly.
"Then I have no objection to this," Draco said simply.
"But are you certain? After what happened?" Lupin asked again, still uneasy. "I almost hurt you all—"
"But you didn't. In fact, you saved our lives before," Draco reminded him. "In the train compartment on the way to school—from the Dementors."
"Oh—" Lupin said, looking somewhat bewildered.
He'd long forgotten about it; he hadn't expected Draco to remember.
"Remus Lupin, I'm offering you a position at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Don't make me say it again, and agree before I regret it." Draco's lips curled into a smile.
He still hated werewolves, of course, but he was willing to give Lupin a chance.
This was just business—Draco had to remind himself—and had nothing to do with the morals, fairness, and justice that Hermione championed.
Lupin's eyes welled up with tears.
He hadn't fully grasped what was happening and could only nod mechanically.
"It's settled then," Draco said calmly. "George, Fred, allow me to reintroduce you to Remus Lupin, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' technical adviser and one of the creators of the Marauder's Map."
For the first time in their lives, the Weasley twins wore genuine expressions of shock on their usually nonchalant faces.