A Little Piece of Sincerity
By: Provocative Envy
OOO
Author’s Note: This is relatively a short chapter, but is vital to Draco and Hermione’s somewhat volatile relationship. It doesn’t seem like much, but it’s the start of a new beginning for the two of them.
OOO
Draco had come to the conclusion that repentance was a fascinating concept. The idea of self-sacrifice for the sake of someone who’d been unjustifiably wronged was appealing on many different levels to him; the basis for his infatuation was that atonement was usually rewarded with forgiveness. And his thirst for absolution could be quenched only by the one person who’d induced in him a startling assemblage of guilt: Granger.
She’d somehow managed to appeal to the side of him that was generally associated with cowardice: the feeble, jealous, vindictive side that had impelled his treachery in the first place. Everyone had flaws, and she’d exploited his magnificently. He doubted she was aware of that, though.
Which was precisely the reason why he was intent on penitence. She hadn’t manipulated him into this, hadn’t done anything except speak her mind. Unfortunately, her blunt honesty had had a devastating effect on his emotions.
Draco couldn’t recall ever feeling so torn. His conscience had lain dormant for so long that it was almost disconcerting to be bound to a remorseful edict of his own creation. Combined with his natural urge to obliterate his rivals, he had no idea where his loyalties should be.
His problem was that he’d had a rude awakening: he had never stopped to think about the actual people he was hurting before Granger’s admonition. There was personality behind those facets of nobility he was intent on destroying; there were thoughts and feelings and desires that he was ensuring there would be no fulfillment of. And now that he’d appreciated his shortcoming, it struck him as strange that he’d never realized any of it before.
To his consternation, a solution hadn’t made itself clear after he’d appraised his situation. Of course, he could always just avoid her and hope she’d forget about his deceit; but that was tantamount to weakness and he wasn’t sure he could handle his own derision in addition to hers.
It was as he was considering various plans of action that he ran almost headfirst into Granger, her wild brown hair suffocating him as she twisted her body around to avoid falling.
“Blood hell, Granger! Why can’t you watch where you’re going?” he demanded, rubbing a hand over his mouth to dispel any stray hairs that had manifested themselves in the open cavity.
The look she gave him was a mystifying fusion of scorn, nervous embarrassment, and righteous indignation.
He’d never been so enthralled with another human being.
“Oh, so the fact that I was turning a blind corner and you were concentrating on your shoes makes it my fault?” she replied heatedly.
“Well maybe it wasn’t an accident, Granger. I think we both know about your…vulnerability where I’m concerned. Maybe you wanted to run into me,” he murmured seductively, trapping her gaze with the vehemence of his own fury, which had permeated the gray confines of his eyes. He wasn’t sure why he was behaving so abominably, or why he was letting anger practically consume him; he wasn’t thinking, and the circumstances were deteriorating rapidly.
“Spare me the romantic insinuations, Malfoy,” she sneered at him, a fiery red blush creeping up her neck.
“Who said anything about romance? I didn’t know that blind stupidity constituted romance,” he smirked at her.
“Blind stupidity?” she repeated dully, understanding too late where he was going with this particular accusation.
“Well, yes. Only complete idiocy would compel someone to fall in love with a person they don’t even know,” he mocked, reminding himself that this kind of power was exactly what he’d wanted over her.
“And only complete idiocy would compel someone to degrade another person for something they couldn’t even help,” she shot back, anxious as to why he still appeared so calm.
“Huh. How is that for excruciating irony, Granger?” he asked her, a nasty twist to his question that halted her retort.
Something was achingly familiar to her in what he’d said. There was a trace of mimicry in his tone, which baffled her. The only time she could recollect using that description regarding her current predicament was with Ginny. Malfoy couldn’t possibly have…
As if in slow-motion, she remembered the minute details of that night: her tears, glistening against her pale skin in the moonlight of the Astronomy Tower; her voice, nasally and muffled against her knees; Ginny’s hand, soothing and sure on her shoulder; the flicker of a shadow on the stairway when she chanced a glance…
“You bastard,” she hissed, shutting her eyes against the gruesome sight of a beaming Malfoy.
“Now, now, Granger. No unfounded allegations against my birth; wouldn’t want you to be an innocent and a hypocrite,” he taunted.
Without a second’s hesitation, she had bunched her right hand into a fist, pulled her arm back, and punched him.
A sickening crunch pervaded the moment of shocked silence that had enveloped the corridor. With a violent curse, Draco clutched his throbbing nose, knowing it was broken yet somehow unable to feel the pain. He was far too focused on the girl standing in front of him, a dazed grin affixed on her face as she watched him.
She amazed him in every way imaginable. She was this pillar of strength and determination, of knowledge and virtue; then she’d turn around and exhibit the kind of emotion and melodrama worthy of an actress. She’d spurred his conscience into action with a few well-chosen words and inflicted upon him the kind of physical harm that held little meaning for someone of her principles: she’d view whatever petulance he showed as further proof of his vilification.
Slowly lowering his palm, he looked at her, an unusual spark of warmth in his eyes that she noted immediately.
“Good one, Granger,” he said, smiling slightly. “You pack quite the punch for a girl.” And then he was gone.
OOO
No comments:
Post a Comment