CHAPTER 11
The next few days did not bode well for either Draco or Hermione, and both of them refused to acknowledge each other’s presence. Hermione would ignore him because she was furious with him…Draco would avoid her because he didn’t feel he like he could look her in the eye.
All in all, a lose-lose situation.
But of course, Fate was never one to live and let live, so it was natural that Draco should be in every one of Hermione’s classes, and be thrust upon her whenever partner projects came along. For example, one day in Arithmancy, Vector decided that she was bored with the seating arrangements and promptly “spiced up” the mingling in class by putting students from different houses together. Needless to say, Draco was forced to sit next to Hermione and fight off the chill from the cold shoulder she was giving him.
And who could forget the time when Hermione and he were partnered up in Potions to brew and test the Essence of Goodwill? They did not speak a word to each other and diligently paid attention to their assigned directions, but in the end, something went wrong in the potion, causing Draco to have a ceaseless sneezing fit after he took a sip…something which that proved to be embarrassing and disgusting at the same time. Luckily for Hermione though, he didn’t take revenge on her in that instant due to the fact that he was feeling quite generous towards mankind in general at that moment. Stupid potion.
He couldn’t be sure, what with his eyes being closed more often than not after his potion consumption, but later on he thought he saw Hermione smirking contentedly out of the corner of his eye. It also didn’t help that none of his so-called “friends” offered to help him. But maybe the repetitive expulsion of god-knew-what from his nose and mouth was to blame for that.
Finally, Snape took pity on him and halted the never-ending “ATCHOO’s!”
Merlin, it’s about damn time! thought Draco. Maybe I should have waited until I got a good one right in that ugly, pale face of his. That would have made him move a little bit faster, the greasy-haired git.
“Really, Mr. Malfoy,” he said in his infamous monotone as he waved his wand once. “You ought to show a bit more skill in this class considering you’ve been a part of it for the last six years.”
Thankful that at last he could breathe normally, Draco muttered docilely, “Thank you, Professor. I can assure you it will not happen again.”
“See that it does not.”
Draco nodded before quickly leaving for lunch. When he reached the Great Hall, he was enthusiastically greeted by Daphne who smacked a big, wet one on his lips the moment her eyes fell on him. Trying to escape her vice-like grip, he staggered backwards and nearly fell before someone behind him steadied him.
“Thanks,” he said as he craned his neck to see who it was.
It was Hermione.
She didn’t say anything, and merely nodded almost imperceptibly at him before heading over to her own table. Draco’s eyes darkened as he watched Armani cheerfully greet her and sit down next to her. He himself also sat down, (with some difficulty, considering Daphne still had her arms flung around his neck and was still pulling him downwards for more kisses), and began stabbing his steak and potatoes with a hostility usually reserved for criminals and traitors.
He could hear Hermione laughing over the other students’ clamoring, and his blond eyebrows joined together in the middle as he angrily shoveled food into his mouth.
“What’s wrong, Drakey, darling?” cooed Daphne. She had finally released him from her manicured bonds and was now gazing into his face with faux concern.
Draco was starting to get a headache and really didn’t feel like discussing his personal dilemmas with notorious airhead, Daphne Greengrass, so he just grunted, “Nothing.”
“Okay, then! Say, Drakey-poo, do you think you could take me out for dinner today? I’m simply dying to try out that new restaurant, ‘Barnaby’s Buffet’ I think it’s called.”
Draco gave a small sigh. Well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t expected this to happen. It was routine for him by now: acquire a ridiculously dense girlfriend, be completely repulsed by her as she tries to snog with you, take her out to dinner at her request, take her shopping with all expenses paid for by you, engage in another revolting snogging session, try to figure out the ethics of sleeping with her after dating just two days, and then just get rid of her, despite all her tears and tantrums.
He wasn’t doing too badly, but it was hard to tell considering he was only entering step three.
“Sure,” he said with his eyes still fixed on a certain brunette smiling and laughing at the Gryffindor table.
Daphne beamed and leaned in to cover his cheek with more sickening smooches before beginning her incessant chatter. “Oh, Drakey, you’re sooo sweet! You’ve changed so much since last year! I mean, last year, you were bloody gorgeous of course, but there was also Theodore Nott who I really had a thing for. I mean have you seen the way his muscles ripple under that Quidditch uniform and the way his hair always has that windswept look? I mean, Merlin’s beard, he’s so hot you could –”
By this time, Draco tuned her out and simply stared at Hermione. She was facing his way and not looking over at him, so he was at full liberty to stare at her for however long he wanted. He began to notice the tiniest little things about her as he observed her, one being the fact that she really had the most perfect teeth he’d ever seen. So straight and white. All in two nice, neat rows. And then there was her hair. It had been the laughing-stock of the school in first year, seeing as it used to look like she hid whole ogres in there.
But now, he noticed, it was much tamer and shinier. Oh yes, the trademark unruly curls were still there, but now they had luster and a richness that he could not recall ever seeing before.
Then, he looked at her eyes. They were really very pretty eyes. One would think that brown would be such a common and boring color, but on her it seemed perfect. Brown was warm and comfortable, and the same could be said about Hermione. She wasn’t ever one to push people into admitting things or to always have an atmosphere of chaos and madness around her.
No. She was definitely warm and comfortable.
Following his thoughts about her eyes, Draco began to wonder if maybe people’s personalities were defined by their eyes. He knew his eyes were gray and often looked cold and unfeeling to others. Did the same characteristics pose for him? Was he like his renowned eyes, cold and unfeeling? His mind raced back to what had happened yesterday with Hermione in the hallway. She’d looked so hurt and betrayed, and what had he done? Had he been kind and asked her what was wrong, and then comforted her? Had he reassured her that he wouldn’t be holding on to Daphne for long, that it was just a fling for the ball? Had he even tried to act reasonable and calm in front of her?
No. Of course not. He was Draco Malfoy. What else could he have done other than shove her concerns aside and stomped on her heart until she began to sob?
Well, for starters, you could have NOT blown up at her.
Oh, damn. The voices were back. He might as well go along with it.
She was provoking me! And she was acting like she knew what she was talking about! Am I supposed to just sit there and take that?
Draco, I’m pretty sure she wasn’t pretending to know stuff about Daphne. I mean, Greengrass can be basically summed up as a slut and a sleaze, you know. I haven’t exactly seen her suffer from an overdose of virtue or anything recently, have you?
Virtue isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, you git. Overly virtuous people tend to lead more boring lives than we sinners do.
Try happier, while you’re at it.
Oh, please. Happiness is completely relative, and while your idea of happiness may be sipping a nice, tall glass of frothy butterbeer, mine is being able to stick with a sexy girl who knows her way around the alleys, so to speak.
You’re disgusting, Draco, have I ever told you that?
Considering I don’t often mentally insult myself, I take a guess at “NO”.
Enough of the wiseass talk. Let’s discuss the real problem: what the hell is going on with you and Hermione Granger? I know you, Draco, and you have something going on with that frizzy-haired witch over there. Out with it!
It’s not frizzy! And I don’t have “something” going on with her, you moron. In case you haven’t noticed, I kind of pissed her off yesterday, and surprisingly enough, the matter hasn’t been resolved yet.
It’s called an apology, dumbass, you should try it sometime. And if you have nothing going on with her, then why are you so uptight about her spending time with Armani?
Ah, fuck you, you –
“DRACO!” screeched a shrill voice in his ear.
Draco jumped back, startled, as a pale hand began waving itself in his face. It took him a while to realize that this hand was attached to a most irritating owner: Daphne Greengrass.
She wasn’t looking too pleased, and put her hands on her hips as she questioned him huffily, “Excuse me, but did you just hear a word I said?”
Draco put his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. What had he ever done to deserve this? “Hold on, Daph, I’ve got a mildly painful headache, and you’re really not helping it go away.”
Daphne pouted at him. “Ugh, you can’t be getting sick now, Drakey, it would completely mess up our dates and maybe even the ball! And, hello, but who were you staring at just a while ago? Was it some other girl? Are you thinking about cheating on me? Are you going to leave me?”
With each word, her vocal pitch rose higher and higher until Draco was sure there’d be a swarm of bats flying in at any second then.
“Bloody hell, Daph, tone it down. I’m not going to cheat on you, and I’m not going to leave you.” Yet, he added as a private afterthought.
But Daphne was not appeased, and stood directly behind his back before lowering her face right next to his and then looking straight ahead. The intrepid investigator’s eyes narrowed the moment they zeroed in on Hermione who was smiling and chatting with Armani.
Daphne straightened up and sat back down next to Draco before whispering venomously, “Pray tell, Draco, why have you been ogling Hermione Granger, Mudblood Extraordinaire, Legendary Bookworm of Hogwarts, and the most insufferable know-it-all to ever come into existence?”
Draco bristled at the series of insults, and replied defensively, “I most certainly have not been ogling her, Daphne, and you will very kindly not ever refer to her as 'Mudblood' again.”
“Oh, have I struck a nerve, Draco? You and I both no damn well that you’ve had your eyes glued onto her for quite a while now, and I think of it as my duty to cleanse you of her impurity and dirtiness.”
Draco began to see red splotches muddle up his vision, but he couldn’t bring himself to slap a girl, no matter how much the stupid bint deserved it. “Don’t be daft, Daphne,” he said in cold fury. “She’s purer and cleaner than you and I will ever be, so I suggest you shut it and get back to discussing the newest breast-enhancement spells with your little friends before I dump you on your arse in front of everyone.”
Daphne looked very taken aback, but she wisely held her tongue and dared not to say another word in front of him.
Still infuriated by her ridiculous comments, Draco clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead for only a few seconds before his eyes drifted back, unthinkingly and speedily, to Hermione’s face.
There was something in her, he thought as her face was illuminated by a burst of sunlight. Something that no one would ever be able to break, or bottle, or describe to perfection. It was wild, yet unwavering, soaring, yet well-grounded, hidden, yet exposed.
It was a work of art no mortal artist could ever hope to create, a breathtaking symphony no earth-bound musician could ever dare to compose.
It was hers and only hers, and no one could ever dream of wrenching it away from her.
It was her everything.
It was her spirit.
* * * *
Hermione could feel her face turning red as Alexander picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. He was so very sweet and gentlemanly, always greeting her with some sort of small gift (today it was a small rose) and a kiss. Hermione knew that girls all over the school envied her, but the bizarre thing was that she would’ve given him up if the perfect opportunity had come up.
What she meant was, she didn’t feel the way a girl should feel when she is with someone she really loves. There was no lightheadedness when she stared into Alexander’s eyes, no bodily implosions when she would feel his lips on her forehead or cheek. There was just no spark, no flutters, no zing.
If she was meant to fall in love with him, where were all the signs?
“Hermione,” Alexander called quietly. “Do you mind coming with me for a little stroll?”
Hermione blinked a few times to come out of her thoughts before nodding and standing up.
They silently walked out onto the grounds. Hermione was slightly bemused and asked, “What’s wrong, Alexander? Is everything all right?”
They both sat down on the ground, and Alexander picked up her hand and idly played with her fingers. “There’s nothing wrong, Hermione. I just wanted to talk to you alone.”
“Yes, go on, then.”
He began to trace random doodles on her palm. “What happened to you and Malfoy? You don’t seem to be very buddy-buddy anymore.”
Hermione watched two birds fly gaily around a tree. “We had…a little argument.”
“Care to tell me what it was about?”
“Oh, it was a bit stupid,” she said dismissively. “Just a little spat over, er, judgment issues.”
“Then you’re not going to remain angry with each other for much longer, I presume?”
She looked down at him curiously, and he met her gaze solemnly. “No-o, I don’t believe either of us is very put out with each other, but really Alexander, what’s with the sudden interest in Malfoy?”
Alexander took a deep breath. “Hermione, you know I’ve just started here this year, so I am not as familiar with your classmates as you are, but if there’s one person I know a whole lot about other than Harry Potter, it’s Draco Malfoy.”
Intrigued, Hermione asked, “Your point being?”
He pulled out a folded newspaper page from the Daily Prophet and handed it to her. As she read the headline, (“Malfoy Clan’s Secrets Unleashed!”), he began to speak. “Hermione, Malfoys have been around for ages, and they’re known throughout wizarding society as one of the strictest and most orthodox of pureblood families. They’ve always meddled in the Dark Magic spectrum, and over time, Dark Magic has become their specialty. And not only are they all fixated with the rules and traditions of purebloods from hundreds of yeas ago, but they are also very deeply associated with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
Hermione looked up briefly from the article. "You mean, Voldemort? The one I read about in all of those Dark Magic books?"
Alexander grimaced but continued, “Yes! You do know, Hermione, that Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s father, was actually Voldemort’s right hand man for the longest time until he was upstaged by another Death Eater? And that even Draco’s mother was involved with the Death Eaters? Do you know that Draco was actually supposed to be an essential part of the Death Eaters, but in the end he evaded it because by then, Voldemort had been vanquished? That's Draco Malfoy's life story. It's always been immersed in the Dark side!”
Hermione finished reading, turned the paper around so that the headline and picture would be facing Alexander, and pointed at Draco’s face which was staring into the camera despite the ubiquitous flashes.
"Y - you mean, Draco was always...the bad guy?"
"Bad guy is the lightest way you can put it, but yes. He's the one who's part of a group that tortures, kills, rapes, destroys, and ransacks all in a day's work! It's become a part of him now; the darkness is stifling whatever little light there was in the first place inside of him!"
Hermione frowned, deep in thought, as Alexander kept talking, "You know Neville Longbottom?"
She nodded.
"Well, you know why he never speaks with his mum and dad?"
"Had an argument over something, I suppose? Or maybe they don't speak to even each other anymore?"
"They're mad, Hermione. Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the most notorious Death Eaters tortured them into madness. They are now wasting away in St. Mungo's, where the father simply lies there muttering to himself, and the mother walks around waiting for her son to come again so that she may give him a bubblegum wrapper."
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped. "Oh - oh my god...I - I never knew...poor Neville..."
He nodded bitterly. "You may think that's the worst of it, but if you want more horror stories, I suggest you stop random people in the hallways and ask them how Death Eaters have affected their lives. You'd never be able to drag yourself out of your room again if you knew everything."
Hermione looked over her shoulder at the castle. So many people in it. So many lives destroyed... "They're all so brave," she whispered softly. "To be able to come back and move on with their lives. Their courage is awe-inspiring. But Alexander," she asked as she gazed back at him, "Why did you tell me all of that? We started on Draco Malfoy, and now we've gone on to more severe matters."
Alexander's eyes flashed as he said, "I told you those things to show you how involved Malfoy is with all the disasters. That bast - sorry, I mean idiot. He's back here, just biding his time comfortably, resting like a dormant volcano. But I'm staying alert. That old Malfoy is just like the one we see today: cowardly, sniveling, treacherous, and immoral. It really is true: some people never change, and our prime example is the Slytherin Prince himself.
“That Draco Malfoy is not the same as the Draco Malfoy you see before you today in Hogwarts.” Hermione exclaimed suddenly, surprising even herself. “That Draco was unsure of himself and confused; this Draco is now confident and firm about his future. That Draco was easily swayed by threats and more cowardly; this Draco trusts his own judgment and is strong in the face of adversity. That Draco once stood for everything dark and wrong…this Draco now lives for everything light and good!”
Alexander was stunned for a moment by her impassioned speech, but soon regained his voice. “Hermione, don’t try to blindly defend him! Look at his past! Look at his background! Don’t those things mean anything to you?”
Hermione was beginning to get pretty ticked off at the ignorant boy in front of her, but she kept her own voice at the same level. “The only blind person I see around here, Alexander Armani, is you. You’re the one who’s still so caught up in someone’s past, you refuse to look ahead to his present and future! You sit there listing all the horrors and vulgarities connected to the Malfoy name, but I don’t see you telling me about a single thing Draco’s done now. People are very capable of changing themselves, Alexander, and Draco is no exception. He’s not to be defined by his family, and he should not placed in the same category as Death Eaters and the like just because of a stupid unanimous generalization!”
She got to her feet to leave, but Alexander was quick on his feet and grabbed her wrist to spin her back towards him.
“Tell me, Hermione,” he asked as he squeezed her wrist ruthlessly with his strong fingers. “Such defensiveness and loyalty perplexes me...do you have feelings for Malfoy?”
Hermione tried to pry his fingers off her wrist and said fiercely through gritted teeth, “Let go of me, Alexander, you’re hurting me!”
He didn’t loosen his grip and in fact tightened it more as rage began to overtake his features. “You didn’t answer my question, Hermione. Do you have feelings for Malfoy or not?”
“He’s my friend!” she cried as she tried to jerk her hand away. “I don’t know what else there is to say! I like him and am fond of him only as a friend!”
Alexander gave her wrist a little twist, one painful enough to make her gasp. “It had better not progress any where from friendship, Hermione. Otherwise I’ll personally take care of our Death Eater Jr. myself...and any other dirty Slytherins along with him.”
He let go of her hand and she immediately ran away from him and back into the castle. She leaned her back against a wall and rubbed her stinging wrist when she heard footsteps to her right. She looked around and saw it was Draco.
He saw her then too, and his face was clouded with repent as he stammered, “Hermione, Hermione, I – I’m so –”
He didn’t have to say anything else because Hermione ran towards him and threw her arms around his waist. She pushed her face into his chest, but he could still understand the muffled words that poured out from her mouth.
“I forgive you, Draco. I forgive you.”
And Hermione knew, deep inside, that she was forgiving him for far more than he could have ever imagined.
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