A Little Piece of Sincerity
By: Provocative Envy
OOO
In the space of ten minutes, confusion had become Draco’s constant companion. His head was spinning and his stomach was rolling. His lips were caught between a smile and a frown. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feeling, and there was no one to point him in the right direction.
He had discovered he was incapable of enjoying Granger’s distress, while at the same time respecting her own inability to fall prey to his taunting. He hadn’t been guilty so much as uncomfortable. Without saying a word she’d treated him like a scolded child; her admonition had been the dignity she’d adopted as she swept out of the dungeon.
He was small and mean and dreadfully inadequate; in startling contrast, she had played the part of imperious aristocrat better than he’d ever been able to.
It struck him that she hadn’t resorted to petty insults to get her revenge; she hadn’t had to lower herself to his level to humiliate him.
How ironic, he thought, that the first time he’d managed to get in that crucial last word had been the only time he couldn’t revel in it. He’d deluded himself for so long into thinking that as soon as he’d gotten one up on Granger he could be completely happy. He could continue on with his life in the manner that it had been dictated since he was a child. There would be no regret that he’d never been able to prove his dominance once he made sure Granger had no cutting retort at hand.
Then what’s missing? He asked himself, laughing a bit too forcefully as he heard his chuckle echo throughout the dungeon.
“What are you laughing about, Malfoy? Did you realize I’d find this and are now ready to be victorious once more?” her icy voice cut in, surprising him.
She stood a few feet away, her eyes too bright and her face too pale.
“I…I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Granger,” he replied, dizzy with remorse.
“Of course you don’t. All you do is write them,” she said, letting her eyelids flutter shut.
“No, I actually don’t,” he mumbled, watching her as she let out an unconvincing giggle.
Her eyes were big and brown and brimming with emotion; her cheeks were flushed with disregard. Her lips had parted after he’d spoken, and her expression was one of devastated insistence.
In the second before she spoke, she was almost dazzlingly beautiful.
“God, I’m stupid,” she said softly, shaking her head and lifting a trembling hand to wipe away a single tear.
“Granger, I…” he started to say, but stopped when she glared at him, all traces of feminine sensitivity gone.
“No, don’t bother, Malfoy. I have no idea why you’d bother telling me something I think I knew all along, but I suppose that doesn’t really matter. What matters, apparently, is that you finally got your splendid little victory, alright? You won, Malfoy. Congratulations,” she shouted at him, her voice brittle.
“I don’t want to win anymore, Granger,” he murmured, his heart stopping as he realized what he’d said.
She was staring at him, her anger gradually subsiding, only to be replaced by dawning horror.
“No,” she whispered, tortured. “No, you can’t say that. You can’t lie to me and make me believe you and then turn everything around like this. You can’t. That’s not fair.”
“Granger, listen, I started off wanting to hurt you, but then somewhere along the way--”
“Didn’t you hear me?” she demanded. “You already won, Malfoy. You already got what you wanted. Just leave me alone.”
He began to argue, wanting her to understand that what had been so important to him was no longer eminent.
“Malfoy. Please. What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t know, Granger.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I mean every word. Why can’t you see that?”
“Because you’re Malfoy. You can’t mean every word. You never have,” she responded simply, shrugging her shoulders.
“You can’t believe I’ve changed, either?” he inquired desperately.
“After six years of hell from you? Are you serious? You’ll always be the same. You’re an inconsiderate, unduly cruel, and generally unpleasant excuse for a wizard.”
He stopped breathing and snapped his eyes shut.
“Here,” she spat at him, shoving a piece of paper at him. “Here’s what you never were and never will be.”
“I…It’s just…Granger, I’m sorry,” he managed to get out, opening his eyes only to see her running down the corridor and not bothering to look back.
He doubted she’d heard him, and turned his attention to the parchment that had sealed his fate.
OOO
She had the slow smile of someone whose seduction is emotional rather than physical. The slight curl of her preciously plump lips is almost tantalizing in its imperfection; it’s juicy and red and so delightfully enticing. Sweet honey orbs encased with sinfully long lashes are the highlight of the caramel velvet some dare to call skin. Smooth and silky and sickeningly average: her façade of normalcy is the only reason she’s really beautiful.
OOO
She’d heard what he’d said and known that if she didn’t get as far away as possible from him she’d cave in. The problem wasn’t that he’d lied to her: no, she’d known that all along. The problem was that she believed him when he said he was sorry.
Her contemplation was interrupted by a hand on her elbow. Immediately assuming it was Malfoy, she turned around angrily, a harsh rebuttal on her tongue; she swallowed her words as she noticed it was Dean Thomas who had grabbed her arm.
“Hermione? You aren’t busy, are you?” the boy asked nervously.
“Oh, of course not Dean. What’s wrong?”
“Well, I was wondering…you didn’t happen to see a piece of paper on the ground on your way out of Potions, did you? See, because I wrote something…for, uh, for Diviniation…and it’s really very important and I would be very much obliged if you had happened upon it,” he burst out in a rush.
She gaped at him, her curiosity dissipating as she realized the implication of what he’d said. She hadn’t stopped to consider that now that Malfoy had divulged his dishonesty, she could go back to finding her true love, the real writer.
Studying Dean Thomas, so different from the suave, debonair artist she’d envisioned, she thought how foolish she’d been to think she could fall in love with some words a stupid little boy had scribbled on the bottom of his notes.
Draco Malfoy had been right. He’d seen what she’d been far too delusional to see for herself.
Admitting that she’d been wrong and he’d been right scared her. It made it that much more likely that it could happen again.
It made it that much more likely that she could have just thrown away the best thing that could have happened to her.
OOO
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