"There. Are. No. Exceptions," Lucius Malfoy hissed between clenched teeth. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw that Draco had learned meant that provoking the man would be detrimental to his health.
Draco had wasted no time in telling his father every detail about Hogwarts, including the reasons why it wouldn't compare to what he had heard about Durmstrang Institute. Knowing what his father's reaction would be, Draco had purposely left out the part where he not only met but admired a Mudblood. That is, until the last few weeks before the start of the next school year. Draco figured it would be better then, because that way he wouldn't have to worry about letting it slip anymore and he would be leaving soon, so the punishments couldn't last too long. Still, Draco, in his explanation, couldn't help but add his thoughts on why Hermione was so brilliant. Obviously, this hadn't gone down too well.
"But Father, she—"
"She is a filthy Mudblood who soils the ground that we pure-bloods walk on. I thought I taught you this, Draco," Lucius continued. There was a note in his voice that told Draco not to push it.
Instead, he merely dropped his head and said in a defeated way, "Sorry, Father, it won't happen again."
Unfortunately for Draco, it did happen again—almost. Walking into Flourish and Blotts with Lucius, Draco spotted the unmistakable brown ball of fluff that was the back of Hermione's head. He immediately stood up a little straighter and absentmindedly smoothed the front of his robes. A sharp pain to his knees, however, destroyed this demeanor. Lucius had whacked his son on the knees with his cane. At first Draco, feared it was because his father also recognized Granger, but his next words dispelled this thought.
"Draco, what have I told you about overdoing your posture?" Lucius spat.
"That it looks nearly as bad as slouching," Draco responded, trying to hide the relief in his voice. Looking for a chance to hide his smile as well, Draco looked over his shoulder and pointed, adding, "Father, may I go look over here for my books while you look elsewhere?"
"Yes, yes, Draco, I shall meet you soon," Lucius said huffily, his blonde hair streaking behind him as he skirted off and away from Draco.
Draco, knowing his father would find out about a meeting with only Granger, decided to insult his enemy, Harry Potter, knowing full well that Hermione was one of his friends and most likely nearby. It was, indeed, childish to think that insulting someone's friend would make them talk to you, but then, Draco was a child at the time.
Unfortunately for Draco, his father had to go and pick a fight with the Weasleys, getting them kicked out in no time.
"Father, was that really necessary?" Draco asked, ignoring the bruises that were forming quickly on Lucius's fair skin.
Lucius straightened his hair haughtily before replying, "Well, Draco, they were a collection of blood-traitors, Muggles, and Mudbloods. It's not my fault that none of them were able to restrain themselves."
"But it is your fault when you provoke them, knowing full well what it will lead to, as you're implying," Draco said in a strained voice.
"Draco, are you suggesting that I was in the wrong?" The muscle was twitching again and Draco, remembering that pain in his legs from earlier, quickly lowered his head again.
"Of course not, Father," he murmured.
------
"Draco! What are you doing here?" Hermione asked from behind the book she was reading, alone in her train compartment. She hadn't seen Harry or Ron since she'd gotten on the train and had assumed that they both decided to ditch her. This hurt her deeply, as she had thought they were her first true friends. Covering this pain was a layer of even more bossiness mixed with crankiness. This was not good for poor Draco, who had also hurt her by his sudden cruelness the year before. "Well, I was late in coming to the station this morning, and every other compartment was full except this one, but I can tell that I'm not wanted, so I'll just leave then," Draco said, turning.
"Oh, fine, you can sit here, just don't expect me to have a cheery conversation with you," Hermione grumbled.
"Why's that?" Draco said with a barely concealed smirk of triumph. "I remember a pleasant conversation last year."
"That was before I found out that you were a cruel bully," Hermione said. She also couldn't resist adding, "You're supposed to put your things above, you know."
Draco glanced over at where his trunk lay, in the seat next to him, and raised a thin eyebrow. "As no one is sitting here, I assumed it didn't matter."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine."
"Fine," Draco replied, though it was in vain. Hermione had returned to her book and hadn't heard him. It was one of Lockhart's schoolbooks that they were supposed to be studying over the school year. She took a very long time to read one sentence, but—and she assured herself that it had nothing to do with the fact Draco had turned to look out the window as the train began to move—she eventually took in the words and continued on. In no time she was absorbed in the book and completely forgot about the pale boy sitting across from her.
Therefore, when he spoke, Hermione jumped, and had to take a minute to remember who he was.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Hermione asked.
"I was asking if you were planning on making this the most awkward train ride in my existence," Draco said slowly, as if he thought Hermione wasn't able to understand him.
"Oh...what do you mean? Has it been awkward?" Hermione could only remember the words in her book. She couldn't think of anything Draco had done. In fact she didn't remember him getting up and placing his trunk on the top of the compartment even though she was sure she should have known that.
Draco sighed. "I did assume it was only me. I mean, how can I expect a filthy Mudblood to know about social situations?"
"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded, bristling. She'd heard him call her a Mudblood before but not with such malice or in such a terrible sentence.
"Are you deaf as well? Has staying with all those Weasleys ruined your hearing?" Draco said with a sneer. "I suppose that's why you haven't talked this whole time."
"I can hear well enough, thank you very much. How you knew I was staying with all of them is beyond me but I'll have you know that they are much better company than you are and that is why I haven't said anything." Hermione slammed her book shut, knowing she wouldn't get lost in the pages again at this point.
"It's easy to assume that you stay with them since you seem to go with them everywhere," Draco said. "Now tell me, did your parents get kicked out by the other Muggles because of you? I saw them at the bookshop and I assumed they were staying with the blood-traitors as well."
"My parents are very proud of me and they still have their own home, not that you should care," Hermione spat.
"Ah, you should get used to me this year. My father has reminded me that all Mudbloods—regardless of their 'intelligence'—will be filthy until that final glorious breath," Draco said.
That was the last straw for Hermione. She made a guttural sound of anger, grabbed her school robes, and marched out of the compartment, leaving the foul-mouthed boy to his own dastardly devices.
Draco, ignoring the terrible taste in his mouth, was satisfied with his work. He managed to make her lash out at him, which was a good thing. While watching Hermione read, he decided that the only way he would be able to do his father right would be to find a way to torment Hermione endlessly, whether she was around or not. Then, he wouldn't have anything to lie or feel guilty about, except, of course, the guilt of Hermione being hurt. However, this was remedied by Hermione's reaction. No matter what he thought of her, if she hurt him back, he was going to feel anger, and want to hurt her more.
And yet, Draco still had that awful taste in his mouth, a taste that told him it would be a while before he could make fun of her for real. If that ever happened. The truth was, Draco really liked Hermione. He didn't like her in any romantic way—he was young and the vestiges of the boyhood mindset that to like a girl would be almost detrimental to one's health prevented any thoughts in that direction—but he still wanted to get to know her and spend more time with her. In fact, it frustrated him that her parentage should get in the way of this. It seemed to have no effect on Hermione herself and he really thought she would be a much better friend than Crabbe and Goyle. They satisfied his brawling, boyish side that made him feel strong, but they lacked the intelligence that also involved creativity and an artistic side. Pansy was alright, but he knew that Hermione would have so much more insight.
Once his thoughts fell here, Draco roughly pushed them to the far reaches of his mind. Traitorous thoughts like these would only lead to depression and despair. Draco looked out the window and started when he saw the tips of Hogwarts come in view. He quickly grabbed his robes, knowing that by doing this, he would manage to avoid Hermione and not have to speak to her again on the train. His thoughts were confirmed when he returned, Hermione's trunk gone. Draco gulped down the return of that terrible taste in his mouth and left the train.
------
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy Mudblood."
Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes immediately. She knew it was stupid, but she also knew that the tone, more than the words, hurt. Draco had said them on the train, but not with nearly enough malice. It was if he'd sharpened his blade of words and shoved it in her heart once again.
Hermione barely heard Ron's angry shouts, but the bang from his broken wand couldn't be ignored. Tears nearly forgotten, Hermione quickly turned and squealed, "Ron! Ron! Are you all right?"
She barely thought of Draco in light of Ron's new slug problem. At Hagrid's, Hermione tried to act as if she hadn't heard the word before, but once it was brought up, she couldn't stop thinking about it. She had the feeling that the train ride had been a prelude to what this year had in store for her. Unfortunately for Hermione, she was all too right.
Draco knew it was wrong, but he also knew that it was right. He felt the pain from seeing those tears in her eyes, but he also knew that his father would approve. Still, he also knew that if he hadn't been for Hermione's shot at him, he would never have been able to conjure the spite.
When Hermione had turned to help Weasly, Draco felt another stab of pain, but he couldn't necessarily place this one. He felt anger as well and knew it wasn't toward Hermione, but he would have been able to manage another hearty insult if they hadn't run off so quickly.
Later, Draco felt contradictory again. Blood on the walls and a seemingly dead cat shouldn't have delighted him nearly as much as it did. But Draco knew his delight was really just for the words. Knowing the history of the Chamber of Secrets, Draco couldn't help but feel as if this was the perfect excuse to act as if he hated Hermione.
Unbeknownst to Draco, this feeling was the immaturity talking, and it was the immaturity inside him that provoked him to stare straight at Hermione and shout, "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"
------
Hermione was conflicted almost as much as Draco had been. Well, underneath all the freaking out over the fur on her face. She was glad not to see Draco—she was angry at him, as he'd tried his best to insult her all year—but she'd also wanted to know what he was like around his pure-blood friends. Was he kinder, meaner, or the same? She felt sure that if she went to the Slytherin common room with Harry and Ron, everything would be confirmed for her.
The last thought gave her pause. There was still more Polyjuice potion. If she could keep it long enough to get hairs—human hairs, not cat hairs—she was sure she could see for herself. She wouldn't even have to be someone close to Draco, just a random observer. Though the thought of accidentally getting another wrong hair made her shudder, Hermione was a Gryffindor for a reason, and she felt eager for this idea.
After hearing from Harry and Ron, however, Hermione's hope vanished. Malfoy seemed to put as much jibes at Mudbloods and blood-traitors in one conversation than she dreamed a person could manage. It was as if he said every evil thought that came to his mind, as if he was doing to prove something. At any rate, Hermione at least didn't have to worry about Draco being the one who was causing so many problems at the school with the Camber of Secrets.
It was many weeks later when, just before the next Quidditch match, Hermione ran off to the library, her mind racing with Harry's words about the Chamber. She ran to the section on magical creatures, quickly found the article on basilisks and paused in thought before adding a note to herself. She ripped out the page, not caring about the vandalism in her rush to tell Ron and Harry.
Hermione turned and found a Ravenclaw girl, checking he mirror quickly as she was leaving the library.
"You know, it would probably be a good idea to look around the corners with that mirror," Hermione said. "The monster in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk."
"Really?" the girl asked.
"Yes, in fact—" Hermione remembered extending the mirror around the corner and seeing something odd, but she didn't remember anything beyond that.
She'd been petrified by the basilisk.
------
"Granger's in the hospital wing again."
"You think she was petrified for real this time?"
"Most likely. She is Muggle-born after all."
The conversation between two third-year Hufflepuffs was making Draco's stomach churn. Last time the rumors had spread about Hermione in the hospital, he spent many nights convincing himself not to go to the hospital wing, but the feeling of his heart being constantly squeezed didn't go away until he heard that she'd been released. No one knew of this, of course, as he did his best to look satisfied at her condition, and they wouldn't know this time around either, even if Draco felt that clenching feeling again. The difference between this one and last was that Granger was petrified and Draco knew he had to visit the hospital wing or his heart would be crushed.
So, late at night, Draco snuck out of his common room and made his way silently along. Snores from Madame Pomfrey reassured Draco, and he briskly made his way to Hermione's bed. The squeezing feeling in his chest returned with vigor at the sight before him. Hermione looked like a statue. Her lively brown eyes were now lifeless, and Draco realized that only when it was gone that Hermione's eyes used to be so warm. In Draco's mind, she was dead.
"Hermione," he whispered saying her first name for what he thought of as the first time. He was actually grateful for the blur caused by the tears in his eyes, as it made Hermione look more asleep than dead. When the first tear fell, Draco closed his eyes and let the rest sweep down as well. His sobs were silent and didn't last long. He'd taught himself both skills in order to seem strong around his father, but now he merely did so to make sure not to wake Madame Pomfrey.
"Hermione I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm so sorry," Draco whispered, determined to make amends whether Hermione knew it or not. "I know I've been campaigning for this for weeks, but it was only to make my father happy. The truth is...I've really admired you, and I don't care about your parentage. I just want to know you. Is that too much to ask? I mean, Crabbe and Goyle are alright, but you're different. You're interesting and smart enough to hold a decent conversation with. In fact I think you're the only one I could hold a real conversation with—one where I don't have to act fake." Draco laughed. "It's funny, I've got a family and friends, but the only person I think I can talk to is a person I've held two conversations with. Isn't my life fantastic?" He spat the last words out bitterly.
"And the worst part is," Draco continued sadly, "if you were a pure-blood, there wouldn't be any problems whatsoever. But no, thanks to my luck and your parentage, we were doomed from the start. It probably would have been better—for me at least—if you hadn't come to my compartment. Then, I wouldn't be here crying because you look as doomed as I feel."
And indeed tears had again welled in Draco's eyes, but he was determined to finish his monologue, ignoring the wobbles in his voice
"I know you haven't heard a word I said, and that's probably a good thing. Still, I want to tell you that I really care about you Hermione and I wish things could be different, but they can't be. This will, if all things turn out right, be the last time I speak to you on good terms, as it would make my father proud and cause less problems in the future. This is, in essence, a final goodbye. So goodbye, Hermione."
Draco stood up and left, tears still leaking from his eyes occasionally. He made sure his eyes were dry as he entered the common room, but he had an odd feeling in his chest, as if something were wrong. He knew exactly what it was but he also knew that it couldn't be helped. Even if he felt this forever, he'd get used to it eventually. He had to. It was in everyone's best interest.
Except his.
—
Hello, as promised here is a new update and I hope you had fun reading it as much as I had fun writing this as well.
Don't hesitate to sound off your thoughts or opinions , I would love to read them.
xxava