a buck tooth and a ferret

chapter 3.

I stared at her while she made her way away from me, and I sighed loudly. That brunette had a way of riling me up. I clutched at my hair and groaned in frustration; what was supposed to be a peaceful night just turned quite unpleasant. I had come seeking solitude, but instead bumped into the most obnoxious person I ever had the misfortune to meet. Muggleborn or not, my hate towards her was justified.

Ever since first year, she was the reason my life was miserable. Don't get me wrong, she did absolutely nothing, but her mere existence was a source of trouble to me. She had made me question my entire life, for as long as I can remember, I was taught that Muggles were undeserving creatures, not worthy of sharing our Magic world, that they were vile, inferior, filthy vermin that deserved to be cleansed to purify our world. They were the Jews for us Germans.

She managed to prove every damn prejudice wrong.

She managed to top every damn class in Hogwarts, much to my chagrin, and was adored by all the sodding professors, and even greasy-haired Snape, though not exactly a card carrying member of the Hermione Granger fan club, whose leader was McGonagall, grudgingly respected her. At the end of the year, when our reports came in, I was second, and Father was furious that a pure-blooded Malfoy like me could get grades lower than a Muggleborn. Instead of choosing to accept the fact that her intellectual capability was better than mine, he chose to believe that I was a worthless prick, and a disgrace to the Malfoy line and I had to be taught a lesson. From then, at the end of each year, I was treated like a pig; hit with belts, scratched with the sharpest glass pieces, and subject to so many hexes, including the Cruciatus Curse once or twice. I still shiver at the sheer amount of pain that my body had to endure – it felt like every bone in my body was snapped all the while I was on fire. If it occurs to you why I couldn't defend myself, it was because my wand was locked away in some cupboard. Wandless magic I was capable of, but truth is, I was too big of a coward to go against him. At some level, I think he knew it too, which is why he never even resorted to using precautionary spells.

So, I resorted to the filthiest insults I could think of to mock her, to degrade her, anything to let an action of rage slip that I could use against her, to prove to myself that she was not perfect. But she always rose above it all, and worst of all, maintained her calm and composure. It infuriated me to an undescribed extent. And she always had such witty comebacks, which were much sharper than anything Potter or Weasel could think of. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy bantering with her.

Then came third year, where she punched me in the face so hard it drew blood. I still have a tiny scar where she hit me, a reminder of how powerful she was. If I'm frank, the reason I fled away was because I was frightened of her. The look she gave me was similar to the one she gave me today, full of pure loathing. It was also the time, when the smallest hints of respect for her emerged. And it only grew with time.

Yet, all of this did not completely justify my behaviour. My thoughts drifted to the insults she subjected me to today, and they were eerily correct. I was extremely jealous of her, not because she was more intelligent. Or because she was adored by everyone. Well, a little. But mainly, it was her demeanour that I was in awe of. She had suffered so much, enough bitterness to last a lifetime, and had been subjected to inhuman conditions and endured tortures and mockeries, that albeit I had a small hand in, yet she was so pure. She still had so much love to give, and so much care to share, it was just so... unsettling. Unearthly. How can one human survive through literal Hell and be so compassionate?

Honestly now I felt I was becoming too sappy. I was Draco Malfoy, and my mind was not subject to such thoughts.

I drifted around the park like a ghost, and tried to distract my mind off her. I tried looking at the scenery... wait who the bloody hell am I fooling? I sat down on the damned grass and did what I did best: brood and sulk. I stared into the deep nothingness and tried to locate the constellation I was named after. My mind, as usual, defying my orders, drifted back to her. And it was then, after pondering over her aimlessly, that I realized that gravity of what I had said. I had been so busy justifying my insults that I had barely paid attention to the fact that she had tears swimming in her eyes. And, I felt a fleeting feeling of a strange emotion gnawing at my stomach, one which I had felt so seldom that I barely acknowledged: guilt.

I thought back to her words about the stupid Gingerhead dumping her and remembered just how broken and heartbroken her eyes looked. Whenever I had looked at her, even at Malfoy Manor when she was getting tortured by my psychotic beast of an aunt, she had hope, even though she was in pain. Well, I couldn't exactly stare at her for long as her screams were terrifying and I looked away. But I looked her in the eyes long enough to witness some faith in them. The kind which no one in the world could take away.

Yet, it amazed me how such a buffoon like Weasley can affect Granger so much. Like isn't she too much of a logical girl to do so? Well, there's also the fact that all blokes are not complete insensitive asses like me. And of all people, it still amazed me how such an epitome like Granger was stuck with that humungous jerk of a man.

She was way too smart and beautiful for him, and I somehow knew they wouldn't work; opposites do attract but after a while, differences become irreconcilable. They were from two starkly different worlds; they were never meant to be together. Even if they were, I had a feeling Granger wouldn't be too entirely satisfied or happy. She needed someone to match her fire and passion, and that Weaselbee was way too safe in his comfort zone. Granger was way too ambitious to pop out kids one after the other, and look after them like I'm sure Weasel would want.

And suddenly, it struck me how I'd been paying attention subconsciously to her all these years to notice these quirks in her behaviour. As quickly as the thought came, I dismissed it, because I was the Slytherin Prince, and I ABSOLUTELY DID NOT notice those measly Gryffindors.

Deciding that the night had screwed with my mind enough, I stood up to leave, and made my way back to the gate, because I was way too tired to Apparate. And I did not fancy bagging the first page of the damned Daily Prophet. Just imagine the headline: Malfoy heir gets Splinched in a Muggle park. Ugh, embarrassing enough. No doubt that the stupid Skeeter would add some of her unneeded comments. I really hate that vulture.

But before I knew it, I lost my way, and I heard some sobs from a familiar voice. I looked around and sure enough, I saw those brown curls, but the girl's shoulders were shaking, and it was obvious that she was crying.

I looked for a way out of there, but apparently my mind and body were not in sync, because I seemed unable to move my feet.

The filter between my brain and mouth was also seemingly off because I called out, "Granger, are you okay?"