A/N: Written for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, Major & Minor Arcana assignment #6: consider the idea of a bold action in this story. Compulsory prompt: Gryffindor.
Pressure Cracks
She's not one for any sort of violence, let alone needless violence, but she's not a saint. She can lose her temper, especially when her nerves are frail. And being overworked and overtired, still reeling from the friendship turned fragile and in knots due to Buckbeak's impending doom, Draco Malfoy is the perfect thing to tip the scales.
He's running away before she quite registers what she's done, before she registers the stinging in her knuckles. And she can't help but laugh a little because it feels so strange. It's the adrenaline, she thinks. Giving her a bit of a high. She feels a little guilty afterwards, but not much. And afterwards is a long time after, because then there's retrieving the cloak, seeing Buckbeak's execution, the return of Scabbers, meeting Sirius Black and the truth. And then repeating the last three hours and watching the consequences unfold.
So, naturally, it's only after all that when she's swallowed down the chocolate Madam Pomphrey almost choked her with that she can think and she can regret. And it's only a touch of regret because she's seen the consequences of Draco Malfoy in the meantime: Buckbeak's execution, even though they save him in the end, when time rewinds. But that doesn't change what she's seen, what Draco Malfoy's actions led to, and that's the most burning reason she can't regret much more.
There's also all the other things he's said: to her, to Ron, to Harry, to her other Gryffindor classmates. She doesn't make it a habit to hate people anymore than she makes a habit to impulsively strike out but she might hate Draco Malfoy, she thinks. She just might.
But as the years go by, and other things, she realises he's not the only thing that can break through the barrier between reason and impulse, that can lead her to strike randomly, impulsively. Sometimes it's words. Sometimes it's fists. Sometimes it's her wand. And most times, she doesn't regret it either. Even when it's against her friends. Even when it's against Harry and Ron.
Often, people say she's a rare breed of Gryffindor. She's one of the rational ones, one of the ones not ruled by emotion; not brash, not impulsive. Even Harry and Ron, sometimes. And they smile and laugh at these moments because they're rare, and they're the two who know. Maybe it is a Gryffindor thing. Or maybe it's a Harry and Ron thing she's picked up. Or maybe Ron's theory is correct (or maybe it's one of his brothers' theories) and it's just a part of her adolescence, or maybe Molly Weasley is right in that it's a Weasley thing and she's an honorary Weasley thing to have a fiery temper, or maybe it's Sirius Black's theory that's correct in that she's channelling Harry's mother's spirit. Or maybe it's just a girl thing, or just a people thing. They're all amusing reasons and maybe all of them have a bit of truth, and it's not really important why in the long run. It's not a problem, per say. It shows she's not perfect and that's fine with her and that's fine with the people around her as well. It's refreshing. It's exhilarating. It's relieving as well. Staying behind walls all the time can be exhausting and stressful all at once, and those little outbursts are pressure leaks that keep her going overall.
She doesn't go around lashing out because she can, but when it happens, it happens. And it usually has a reason she doesn't need to defend or rebuke. Like Draco Malfoy and Buckbeak. Like Ron and all the times he's been insensitive, all the times he's hurt her through simple words, simple actions that drew them even more tightly together in the end. But it's not something she goes out of her way to do – force those cracks. That's why they're rare, why they're special. Why, on the whole, she's still a rational soul, even though she's not a rare breed of Gryffindor. Because there are many types of courage and in her years there's a war that brings them all out.
