A/N I have a list of plot bunnies that I want to start writing this summer, so I sit down to write and this comes out of absolutely nowhere. But I like it, even if it is short. It was not written to be romantic, but you can read it that way, if you want. And you'll have to read it if you want to find out who it's about. Many thanks to Ivy (annie penrose) for the beta. Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Disclaimer; Everything belongs to JKR and her brilliant mind.
"Did you see him fly? Well, it's not like you can really expect much from a Mudblood, but that flying made even Weasley's look good...." The gang of Slytherins around him snicker and the student they are talking about, a Hufflepuff second-year, flees, mortified, in the opposite direction. The Slytherins grin. It is no accident that he has overheard them.
She remembered seeing him for the first time, when she was ten-but- almost-eleven. She knew immediately that she disliked him, but it wasn't until later that she admitted to herself that she was afraid of him, a little, too. It was the way he held himself and the tone of his voice and a million little gestures of his that made her afraid.
She didn't like being afraid - she was a Gryffindor, after all, although she had only just found out.
The fear stayed with her, just a little, in the years that followed. She tried not to show it and, in time, her fear eroded.
In time she came to see him as a little boy, one who thought himself more powerful, more important than anyone else. He was selfish and arrogant and childish and very insecure. He was naïve, also, but they all were then.
She didn't fear him then, although she did pity him a little. She knew he would hate her even more if he knew of her pity, because that was the way he was.
When she first saw him he had been taller than she, and had seemed so much bigger. He was still taller, last time she checked. But, then, he didn't seem big at all. She saw, also, for the first time, that he had fears as well, although his fears were of a much different nature than hers.
He was afraid of those around him; the ones who muttered dark comments that would have been rumours, except that they were true. He was afraid of those who pointed out the green stripe on the sleeve of his robes to frightened first-years, who then crossed to the other side of the corridor when he passed. He was afraid when the owls brought the news every morning and he heard his name whispered throughout the hall. Mostly they were referring to his father but sometimes they referred to him as well.
She watches him work on an essay in the library. It is easy to watch him, because he has no gang around him now; he is the only one left. He puts down his quill for a second to turn a page of his book. She knows that he is working on an assignment for Transfiguration, because she used the same book, herself, last night. He continues writing, and pauses only when he hears a group of talkative younger students enter the library. Then he looks up and spots the tightly-furled copies of the morning paper in their hands, and guesses what they are discussing. He closes the book quickly and turns to leave before they spot him, but one of them sees him go and turns ,wide-eyed, to the others because that is the common reaction to him these days. It is just the way things were.
Even though he seemed smaller then, she saw him as more grown-up. She wondered if it was fear that made people grow up. It seemed likely.
When she saw him like this she tried to remember the time when he seemed so powerful to her. She couldn't imagine being frightened of him now. Now, he was frightened of her.
Hermione rises to let in the owl that is tapping on the window of her flat. She takes The Daily Prophet and her eyes wander the paper searching for familiar names, for old classmates. She spots the article almost immediately; it is not the main one, but it is on the first page.
Last night Mr. Draco Malfoy of Wiltshire was seized by Aurors and is currently awaiting trial for alleged connections to Voldemort. Although there is no concrete evidence, Mr. Malfoy's name has come up several times in the testimonies of former Death Eaters. "Even though Voldemort himself is gone we are still trying to round up all those who supported him and are still at large," says Senior Auror Emma Dobbs. "Preventive measures such as this arrest will, we hope, lead the way to a safer Wizarding world."
She shakes her head and folds up the paper, before she remembers to pay the post owl. It flies off through the open window as she pours herself more coffee. She isn't surprised, not really. She has always suspected that he would end up like this, but has never given it much thought. She pities him though, and knows that if he knew he would hate her, still. That's just the way he is.