"Only the shallow know themselves"
Oscar Wilde
He watched her as she sat there among her friends. The entire table exuded an atmosphere of contentment and easy teasing. Her friends' smiles were wide and lazy, the corners of their eyes were wrinkled as their lips tugged upwards. Her smile was the widest one of all. A brilliant smile that exposed pearly white teeth and seemed to be almost contagious.
He couldn't understand how he had ever believed it.
It was so obvious now. How could anyone not notice it? Shouldn't her friends see the truth behind her beam? Then again he hadn't noticed it himself. Not until a while ago.
They'd had that discussion and she'd admitted that what others saw wasn't all of her. The argument had then taken a considerable worse direction. He wasn't in the mood for another row.
But why did she insist on faking? That's what he couldn't understand. He couldn't grasp. He wouldn't take in.
He knew that he'd seen her. The real her.
That wasn't the real her. Not that girl he was staring at now. Not that girl with the radiant smiles and easy laugh. No. He knew that wasn't her.
He knew that she wasn't herself when she was around Potter and Weasley. He knew that. She'd told him... She'd said she wasn't what others saw.
He praised the day he found her journal, but then again, he also cursed the that same day. So she wasn't the perfect little bookworm. He'd always thought there was probably only one person as heartless as he. In his mind, that person was Hermione Granger.
Oh, he knew it sounded crazy...
He'd seen the way she acted like she cared for Potter, for Weasley, for the Weasley girl, even for bloody House Elves. That couldn't all be real. No one could care like that for anything. He could understand a certain fondness for other people. He saw that all around Hogwarts, but even he could see that it wasn't completely unconditional.
That Ravenclaw 6th year didn't simply like his girlfriend; he was getting something out of her. That 2nd year Hufflepuff wasn't just fond of his Herbology teacher; he was fond of her because she gave him good grades. Granger didn't like Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley; they were just there to stop her from being alone.
Most people thought he was jealous. Jealous of all the lovely feelings most people shared. Well all he could do was pity them. Being raised the way he had been he knew the truth; there really was nothing to be jealous of. None of that really existed, and not for a second had he ever bought any of those ridiculous notions. And, honestly, who could be jealous of something they didn't believe in?
He knew she was ambitious. He saw it in her grades. The amount of work she did, whether that was taking every possible subject, or work for extra credit. It didn't make sense for someone that ambitious to actually waste time caring for anyone, not for real anyway. No. She was as unfeeling as he was. Just the perfect little cheerful disguise, flawless in everyway.
But then he found a small notebook in their common room. That was the day he praised and cursed. It was the day he found out Hermione Granger was not perfect, within his own twisted notion of perfection that is.
It was the day he found out she did have feelings, sad feelings.
And worse, it was the day he found out he had them too. Many of which, he could identify with this new Hermione Granger he read about.
That same day he lost his temper. He pulled her as soon as he saw her. Now he thanked whatever God was out there that this had taken place in their own common room. He wasn't presumptuous enough to believe he'd have controlled himself had they been in public. In public, like now.
He was mad. He had thrown the book at her. Accusing her of mockery, and personally praying for it too. The expression in her face was all he needed. The look of pure terror told him it was all true. All the mushy feelings poured into that small black book were real. And now she desperately feared his recent discovery.
Draco's head bent down and he stared at his shoe as his left hand pushed back a strand of gelled hair that succeeded in falling over his forehead. He kept his eyes away from her jovial face as he remembered their argument and the softer route it took from his initial outburst.
He hadn't known where that compassion had come from. Hadn't known there was any sympathy in him. He had no idea how they ended up sitting on the floor and talking about all those secret feelings she had. The ones he read about. The ones that were real.
And then she had told him, told him what he had figured out the second he read the blasted black book. She told him that what others saw wasn't what she was. No. She had said 'wasn't all that she was.'
And there she was again. Faking, acting like the little monument of happiness. And he couldn't fucking figure out why? It was after he'd asked that exact question that things got decidedly worse. Granger soon let out her own outburst and again he had lost his temper. The rest was a bit of an angry blur.
Even now he couldn't really understand why he cared about it at all. But he did. That was what he found out when he began to read that small black book. When he read about someone else's true feelings. He found out that he too had them. And that at the moment he cared, and that he was going to grasp that small flicker of sentiment for as long as he could.
Those feeling things could be real after all...
His eyes rose again to find her, only to see that she was now making her way out of the Hall. Hastily he made his way to follow. Just as the doors behind them closed he grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn towards him. He watched in fascination as that beautiful smile, the one he'd been observing all through dinner, dissolved before his eyes.
It was the weary and dull look in her eyes that scared him the most.
"What do you want Malfoy?"
"I just want you to tell me Gran..."
He was cut off by her exasperated voice, "Don't start that again... I'm not in the mood to argue."
"Look, neither am I! It's just that... Why do you do that? Why are you doing this?"
Narrowing her eyes at him Hermione crossed her arms over her chest before asking with as much defiance as she could muster, "And just what do you think I'm doing?"
His eyes darted as he thought over her words. What did she mean? Of course she knew what he was talking about. How could she ask that? "All the faking. Pretending to like people you don't like!"
"And who says I don't like them? Whoever said I don't like my friends?"
Puzzled and angry Malfoy rose his tone of voice, "You! You said you weren't your true self around them, you said it wasn't what you truly are! And you know what Granger, you're unhappy. I saw it in your writing and I can see it now! I've seen you smile before and that... that... thing plastered across your face just then," he pointed towards the doors to the Great Hall as he continued in his loud voice, "that wasn't it!"
Hermione grabbed the hand that had just pointed towards the Hall and huffily led him to a corner further from the place where most of the student body happened to be situated. In a second she turned to face him, her eyes alive and dangerous.
"Who the hell do you think you are to tell me I'm unhappy?! You know absolutely nothing, first off what I told you the other day was that the way I acted when I was with them was not ALL that I am! And you know what, it's true, okay?!" Though her voice did not lower the slightest it seemed more frustrated than angry, "What you see, and what everyone else see is not all that I am, but it doesn't mean it's faking either."
"Look Granger, I read it, I read it all. I know that this... shell you wear around isn't really you, I know that-"
"Oh don't you do that, don't you even dare it Draco Malfoy! Do not label me some stupid angsty teenager, do NOT try to stereotype me! I am not going through one of those won't-anybody-see-me-for-what-I-really-am fases!"
She met his glare with what could almost be a pleading look before she went on, passionately and forcefully, "What you see is not all that I am, but what I write isn't either!"
Frustrated and heated he asked, "Well then WHAT is?!"
"I don't know!" She didn't stop after her outburst and just kept letting it all out, "I don't know, okay! But why do I HAVE to know? Who ever said people HAD to know themselves? People get feelings, normal people get feelings, they feel happy, depressed, frustrated, rebellious and a thousand other things, I just write them down! It doesn't mean that I'm not happy and it does not mean that I have to fake it!"
"But then why do you hide it? The things you write, if they're just regular human feelings why do you have to hide them under that excuse for a smile I had to see tonight?"
"Because they're personal Malfoy! A word which I'm sure is not a part of your vocabulary since you just think you're entitled to read about other people's business!"
As Malfoy heard her scolding him he began to process her answer as well as what she had said and when he again asked a question his voice came out much softer, "Are you seriously telling me Granger that you don't know who or what you are?"
Caught by surprise by the softer tone of his voice Hermione struggled a little to answer, "Well not all of me, I mean I know some of me, and I might slowly find out more, not that I want to find out all there is to..." with a soft sigh she met his eyes, "No, I don't"
"And it doesn't bother you? Not knowing yourself inside out?"
"No... All I know is that I can't just be what other people see, and I can't just be those stupid things I write..." She slowly seemed to be growing angry, but when he met her eyes he saw a bit of longing, "There must be something more to me than that."
And again Draco Malfoy found himself having feelings that mirrored Hermione Granger's. He wasn't just the prejudiced, obnoxious boy everybody saw. And he wasn't just the arrogant boy his thoughts seemed to portray. He couldn't be. There had to be more to him than that. Because if there wasn't... if that was all he was... he didn't want to think about that option, and could see that Granger didn't want to either.
Allowing a slow, lazy smile to cross his features he proposed a truce, hidden of course, under a bit of teasing, "You know Granger you would really have impressed me if you had figured yourself out, you are such a weird puzzle."
Hermione returned his smile and, small as it was, he could see that it was real, "Well Malfoy you wouldn't have impressed me at all, since you're about as complex as an amoeba." Malfoy glared as expected to that, although he had no ides what she meant, having never learned Biology he had no idea just what an 'amoeba' was.
With a soft chuckle at his obvious puzzlement, even as tried to disguise it she led the way back to their shared common room to write this newest development in her small black book.
Oscar Wilde
He watched her as she sat there among her friends. The entire table exuded an atmosphere of contentment and easy teasing. Her friends' smiles were wide and lazy, the corners of their eyes were wrinkled as their lips tugged upwards. Her smile was the widest one of all. A brilliant smile that exposed pearly white teeth and seemed to be almost contagious.
He couldn't understand how he had ever believed it.
It was so obvious now. How could anyone not notice it? Shouldn't her friends see the truth behind her beam? Then again he hadn't noticed it himself. Not until a while ago.
They'd had that discussion and she'd admitted that what others saw wasn't all of her. The argument had then taken a considerable worse direction. He wasn't in the mood for another row.
But why did she insist on faking? That's what he couldn't understand. He couldn't grasp. He wouldn't take in.
He knew that he'd seen her. The real her.
That wasn't the real her. Not that girl he was staring at now. Not that girl with the radiant smiles and easy laugh. No. He knew that wasn't her.
He knew that she wasn't herself when she was around Potter and Weasley. He knew that. She'd told him... She'd said she wasn't what others saw.
He praised the day he found her journal, but then again, he also cursed the that same day. So she wasn't the perfect little bookworm. He'd always thought there was probably only one person as heartless as he. In his mind, that person was Hermione Granger.
Oh, he knew it sounded crazy...
He'd seen the way she acted like she cared for Potter, for Weasley, for the Weasley girl, even for bloody House Elves. That couldn't all be real. No one could care like that for anything. He could understand a certain fondness for other people. He saw that all around Hogwarts, but even he could see that it wasn't completely unconditional.
That Ravenclaw 6th year didn't simply like his girlfriend; he was getting something out of her. That 2nd year Hufflepuff wasn't just fond of his Herbology teacher; he was fond of her because she gave him good grades. Granger didn't like Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley; they were just there to stop her from being alone.
Most people thought he was jealous. Jealous of all the lovely feelings most people shared. Well all he could do was pity them. Being raised the way he had been he knew the truth; there really was nothing to be jealous of. None of that really existed, and not for a second had he ever bought any of those ridiculous notions. And, honestly, who could be jealous of something they didn't believe in?
He knew she was ambitious. He saw it in her grades. The amount of work she did, whether that was taking every possible subject, or work for extra credit. It didn't make sense for someone that ambitious to actually waste time caring for anyone, not for real anyway. No. She was as unfeeling as he was. Just the perfect little cheerful disguise, flawless in everyway.
But then he found a small notebook in their common room. That was the day he praised and cursed. It was the day he found out Hermione Granger was not perfect, within his own twisted notion of perfection that is.
It was the day he found out she did have feelings, sad feelings.
And worse, it was the day he found out he had them too. Many of which, he could identify with this new Hermione Granger he read about.
That same day he lost his temper. He pulled her as soon as he saw her. Now he thanked whatever God was out there that this had taken place in their own common room. He wasn't presumptuous enough to believe he'd have controlled himself had they been in public. In public, like now.
He was mad. He had thrown the book at her. Accusing her of mockery, and personally praying for it too. The expression in her face was all he needed. The look of pure terror told him it was all true. All the mushy feelings poured into that small black book were real. And now she desperately feared his recent discovery.
Draco's head bent down and he stared at his shoe as his left hand pushed back a strand of gelled hair that succeeded in falling over his forehead. He kept his eyes away from her jovial face as he remembered their argument and the softer route it took from his initial outburst.
He hadn't known where that compassion had come from. Hadn't known there was any sympathy in him. He had no idea how they ended up sitting on the floor and talking about all those secret feelings she had. The ones he read about. The ones that were real.
And then she had told him, told him what he had figured out the second he read the blasted black book. She told him that what others saw wasn't what she was. No. She had said 'wasn't all that she was.'
And there she was again. Faking, acting like the little monument of happiness. And he couldn't fucking figure out why? It was after he'd asked that exact question that things got decidedly worse. Granger soon let out her own outburst and again he had lost his temper. The rest was a bit of an angry blur.
Even now he couldn't really understand why he cared about it at all. But he did. That was what he found out when he began to read that small black book. When he read about someone else's true feelings. He found out that he too had them. And that at the moment he cared, and that he was going to grasp that small flicker of sentiment for as long as he could.
Those feeling things could be real after all...
His eyes rose again to find her, only to see that she was now making her way out of the Hall. Hastily he made his way to follow. Just as the doors behind them closed he grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn towards him. He watched in fascination as that beautiful smile, the one he'd been observing all through dinner, dissolved before his eyes.
It was the weary and dull look in her eyes that scared him the most.
"What do you want Malfoy?"
"I just want you to tell me Gran..."
He was cut off by her exasperated voice, "Don't start that again... I'm not in the mood to argue."
"Look, neither am I! It's just that... Why do you do that? Why are you doing this?"
Narrowing her eyes at him Hermione crossed her arms over her chest before asking with as much defiance as she could muster, "And just what do you think I'm doing?"
His eyes darted as he thought over her words. What did she mean? Of course she knew what he was talking about. How could she ask that? "All the faking. Pretending to like people you don't like!"
"And who says I don't like them? Whoever said I don't like my friends?"
Puzzled and angry Malfoy rose his tone of voice, "You! You said you weren't your true self around them, you said it wasn't what you truly are! And you know what Granger, you're unhappy. I saw it in your writing and I can see it now! I've seen you smile before and that... that... thing plastered across your face just then," he pointed towards the doors to the Great Hall as he continued in his loud voice, "that wasn't it!"
Hermione grabbed the hand that had just pointed towards the Hall and huffily led him to a corner further from the place where most of the student body happened to be situated. In a second she turned to face him, her eyes alive and dangerous.
"Who the hell do you think you are to tell me I'm unhappy?! You know absolutely nothing, first off what I told you the other day was that the way I acted when I was with them was not ALL that I am! And you know what, it's true, okay?!" Though her voice did not lower the slightest it seemed more frustrated than angry, "What you see, and what everyone else see is not all that I am, but it doesn't mean it's faking either."
"Look Granger, I read it, I read it all. I know that this... shell you wear around isn't really you, I know that-"
"Oh don't you do that, don't you even dare it Draco Malfoy! Do not label me some stupid angsty teenager, do NOT try to stereotype me! I am not going through one of those won't-anybody-see-me-for-what-I-really-am fases!"
She met his glare with what could almost be a pleading look before she went on, passionately and forcefully, "What you see is not all that I am, but what I write isn't either!"
Frustrated and heated he asked, "Well then WHAT is?!"
"I don't know!" She didn't stop after her outburst and just kept letting it all out, "I don't know, okay! But why do I HAVE to know? Who ever said people HAD to know themselves? People get feelings, normal people get feelings, they feel happy, depressed, frustrated, rebellious and a thousand other things, I just write them down! It doesn't mean that I'm not happy and it does not mean that I have to fake it!"
"But then why do you hide it? The things you write, if they're just regular human feelings why do you have to hide them under that excuse for a smile I had to see tonight?"
"Because they're personal Malfoy! A word which I'm sure is not a part of your vocabulary since you just think you're entitled to read about other people's business!"
As Malfoy heard her scolding him he began to process her answer as well as what she had said and when he again asked a question his voice came out much softer, "Are you seriously telling me Granger that you don't know who or what you are?"
Caught by surprise by the softer tone of his voice Hermione struggled a little to answer, "Well not all of me, I mean I know some of me, and I might slowly find out more, not that I want to find out all there is to..." with a soft sigh she met his eyes, "No, I don't"
"And it doesn't bother you? Not knowing yourself inside out?"
"No... All I know is that I can't just be what other people see, and I can't just be those stupid things I write..." She slowly seemed to be growing angry, but when he met her eyes he saw a bit of longing, "There must be something more to me than that."
And again Draco Malfoy found himself having feelings that mirrored Hermione Granger's. He wasn't just the prejudiced, obnoxious boy everybody saw. And he wasn't just the arrogant boy his thoughts seemed to portray. He couldn't be. There had to be more to him than that. Because if there wasn't... if that was all he was... he didn't want to think about that option, and could see that Granger didn't want to either.
Allowing a slow, lazy smile to cross his features he proposed a truce, hidden of course, under a bit of teasing, "You know Granger you would really have impressed me if you had figured yourself out, you are such a weird puzzle."
Hermione returned his smile and, small as it was, he could see that it was real, "Well Malfoy you wouldn't have impressed me at all, since you're about as complex as an amoeba." Malfoy glared as expected to that, although he had no ides what she meant, having never learned Biology he had no idea just what an 'amoeba' was.
With a soft chuckle at his obvious puzzlement, even as tried to disguise it she led the way back to their shared common room to write this newest development in her small black book.