"And I watched all the memories. It took some time, but I saw every single one. All the moments in his life that could have been even vaguely important – the good, the bad, the embarrassing – I saw them all." Malfoy sighs, re-wetting the now stained cloth and heating it again, sweeping it firmly over Hermione's forehead as she shuts her eyes. "How are you supposed to be the same person after seeing life through someone else's eyes? I tried, for a while, but I just couldn't. Too much had changed. I knew too much. I felt like such a fucking idiot." His touch is soothing, cleansing away the dirt and leaving clean, warmed skin behind, and his story, told in soft, gentle murmurs, explains a lot. "I found out that Dumbledore had let me disarm him, for instance. That all along, he and Snape had been trying to protect me. That Dumbledore had planned to die. That...that was a big one for me to accept. But when I had, finally, after months of going through the motions and trying to keep my head down and avoid you-know-who's attention, I broke, and I went to the Order, to try to defect."