It was a clear day and Hermione set off for the school grounds to enjoy the rare sun and bright blue sky – as well as the rarity of having free time amidst their busy schedule. She tucked the book she was reading under her arm, a fresh goblet of pumpkin juice in one hand, and stumbled across the clearing towards the Great Lake. She then perched herself upon the huge sprawling roots of an old tree and enjoyed the shade, re-reading Wuthering Heights for the umpteenth time. She was half-weeping, as the dying Isabella asks Edgar to raise her and Heathcliff's son, when bounding footsteps broke her concentration.
"Hey there, Granger."
She froze. Unfortunately, she had learned to recognize that voice. It was smooth as velvet. She smiled as she put down her book. "Hey Malfoy." She raised her hand to shield her face from the sun and saw him still a couple of steps away from her.
"Lovely day, yeah?" he said with a smile, then, brushing his hair away from his face with his fingers, he sat down beside Hermione. "What was that you were reading? Not schoolwork, I hope?"
"No," Hermione said with a small laugh. "It's a novel called Wuthering Heights."
"Is it any good?"
"It's okay," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I've read better. But it is considered a classic."
"Tell me about it," Malfoy said resting his body against the tree trunk. "What is it about?"
"You really want to hear about it? It's boring."
"If it's a classic and you like it, then it's not as boring as you want me to think it is," Malfoy said with a lazy smile.
"Well… it's a love story written by Emily Bronte," Hermione answered hesitantly, absent-mindedly shuffling through the pages of the old book. "It is a novel of revenge and romantic love. It tells the stories of two families: the Earnshaws who live at the Heights, at the edge of the moors, and the genteel and refined Lintons who live at Thrushcross Grange. Wait; do you really want to hear about all this? It's a pretty long story…"
"It's a Saturday," Malfoy said as he closed his eyes and smiled. "We have all afternoon."
Hermione sighed. "Okay, but if you fall asleep because I'm boring you, don't say I didn't warn you first."
"Go ahead, Hermione."
"So, when Mr. Earnshaw brings home an orphan to live in the family, intricate feelings of jealousy and rivalry as well as a soulful alliance between Heathcliff and Catherine develop," Hermione began to explain, taking a look at Malfoy from the corner of her eyes. He had his eyes closed so Hermione had no idea if he was still listening but still she continued. "Believing that Catherine has rejected him, Heathcliff leaves to make his fortune. And when he returns, Catherine is married to Edgar Linton, but she still feels deeply attached to Heathcliff. Disaster follows for the two families when Heathcliff takes revenge on them all. Only the second generation, young Cathy and Hareton Earnshaw, survive to go beyond the destructive passion in their mutual love."
Hermione paused. Malfoy was breathing steadily, the rise and fall of his chest in tune with the waves lapping at the rocks along the shoreline of the Great Lake. She smiled, it was a lovely day.
"Why did you stop?" Malfoy asked, squinting. "I thought it was a long story. Was that it?"
Hermione laughed. "I thought you were falling asleep so I shortened it. That was the abridged version."
"So what makes it a classic then?"
"Well, it talks of love – both romantic and brotherly – and it applies to all its characters, not just the principal ones," Hermione answered. "Bronte's exploration of love is discussed in the context of good versus evil (which is another way of saying love versus hate). The most vital relationship is the one between Heathcliff and Catherine. The nature of their love seems to go beyond the sort of love most people know. In fact, it is as if their love is outside this world, belonging on a spiritual plane that surpasses anything accessible to everyone else on Earth.
"Contrasting the capability for love is the ability to hate. And Heathcliff hates with retribution. Heathcliff originally focuses his hate toward Hindley, then to Edgar, and then to a certain extent, to Catherine. Because of this hate, Heathcliff resorts to what is another major theme in the book— revenge," Hermione continues to explain as though caught in some kind of stupor. "Hate and revenge intertwine with selfishness to divulge the conflicting emotions that make people to do things that are not particularly nice or rational. Some choices are regretted while others are relished.
"These emotions make the bulk of the characters in Wuthering Heights well rounded and more than just conventional stereotypes. Instead of symbolising a particular emotion, characters symbolise real people with real, oftentimes not-so-nice emotions. Every character has at least one redeeming trait or action with which the reader can empathise."
Malfoy had once again closed his eyes. "That was a mouthful, Granger. But interesting. Do you think, after every nasty little thing I did to you in the past years, do I have a redeeming quality? What was Heathcliff's redeeming quality if he seemed so consumed with hatred?"
"His love for Catherine," Hermione said right away, watching Malfoy closely. "Their love for each other, I think, is their only redeeming quality. Naught could keep them apart – not his evilness, nor her self-interest, or even death…"
Malfoy smirked. "Sounds a lot like –" Hermione froze. "…my parents."
They fell silent for a prolonged second. They both listened to the lake as the waters surged to crash into the rocks. Hermione's mind wandered to every foul encounter she had had with Malfoy, then to their third year when she had hit him squarely in the face. She smiled and cringed at the same time. This made Malfoy laugh, and Hermione jump at the sound of his laughter for she wasn't aware that he was watching her.
"What were you thinking about that made you make that face?" he said trying to control his laughter.
"Don't laugh," Hermione complained, blushing to the roots of her hair. "I was thinking about that time in our third year when I punched you in the face…"
Malfoy stopped laughing. "What about it?"
"I'm sorry."
He watched her intently. "Are you seriously apologising for that? Did you feel bad about it? Do you now?"
Hermione pondered this for a moment. "No. Actually I don't. You deserved it for insulting Hagrid."
"Was it about Hagrid?" Malfoy asked, cocking his head to one side. "See, I don't even remember what it was about. But since you don't feel sorry for it, you shouldn't be apologising. I probably did deserve it. I was a… what was that you called me again?"
Hermione blushed even redder than before. "A foul… loathsome… evil little cockroach…" she barely managed to whisper. If he hadn't heard it once before, he would not have understood her mumbling. But he did, and he burst out laughing.
"If you hadn't just hit me with your stone-like fist, I would have laughed then," he said jovially.
"Right, I just bet you would have," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
"Yes, I would have."
"Would have what?" said a loud voice from behind them.
Hermione and Malfoy whirled around to see Harry and Ron approaching them. Malfoy turned to look at Hermione with a huge grin, then he turned back to face Harry. "Would have laughed. When Hermione called me a foul loathsome evil little cockroach back in third year."
Ron cracked up at the memory. "That was funny. Cockroach!"
"Stuff it, Weasley," Malfoy said with an icy glare. "I didn't say you could laugh about it."
Hermione watched nervously to see how Ron would react. He guffawed harder than before, sputtering the word 'cockroach.'
Malfoy shook his head, glared at Harry, and then rolled his eyes. "He's gone mad."
Harry simply raised an brow, pulling Ron (who was still laughing his head off) along with him to sit on the ground in front of the other two. "Nice day, eh?"
"Really nice." Hermione smiled.
Hours later Ron and Harry left for the Quidditch pitch to practice for a while before dinner. "You sure you don't mind staying with me when you could be flying around the pitch with Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked.
"Why would I rather spend time with them blokes when I'm chatting up a fairly pretty lady?" Malfoy said quite smoothly.
Hermione knew when not to take things at heart and just laughed at what he said.
Malfoy bent closer to her as though to whisper something. "Truthfully, don't repeat what I'm about to say because I will unwaveringly deny it, but if I'm to be quite honest with myself, those two," he said as he pointed a thumb towards the direction of the pitch, "are not so bad, actually."
Hermione smiled. Things were turning out better than she expected. "I will not tell them if it will make you feel better about getting along with each other."
Malfoy smirked. "Who would have thought, eh?"
"Right," Hermione shook her head. "I didn't think I'd live to see the day when I would be having a decent conversation with a Malfoy."
"Neither did I, Granger," he said softly. "Neither did I."
--
That night Hermione grabbed Ginny away from Harry and led her towards the Gryffindor Common Room grate. "I have something to confess," she had said when the two of them were comfortably seated on the plush chairs. "But swear to me you won't tell Harry and Ron."
Ginny looked intrigued, but then she nodded solemnly. "What is it, Hermione?"
"I…" Hermione began but then couldn't continue.
"What is it?"
"Er…"
"Do I have to guess?" Ginny asked, trying to stop herself from smiling.
"Can you?" Hermione asked, a brow rose. "I'm afraid this will take you a million years to guess correctly."
"You wanna bet on that?" Ginny asked, her lips twitching as though she was about to burst out with laughter any minute now. Truth be told, she had a vague idea of what Hermione wanted to tell her, but she wanted to torture the bushy-haired Head Girl first. "I bet I could guess it right on my third try."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not blooming likely, but sure, have a shot at it then."
"It's either, one, you're in love with Justin Finch-Fletchley and the two of you will be eloping tomorrow night," Ginny held up her hand to stop Hermione from refuting her and then she continued. "Or, two, you've realised that you're in love with Harry and you have the gripping need to kill me tonight? Or, three, you're in love with Draco Malfoy and don't know what to make of it?"
Hermione's face turned ashen. "How'd you know?" she whispered in a nervous voice. "Am I that transparent? Does that mean that he knows?"
Ginny shook her head and laughed. "I'm sure he has yet to realise it, but since I know you so well, you are transparent to me."
"Oh my lord," Hermione murmured. "I can't believe this. I really can't. How can I like him? This is really strange."
"Not strange at all, once you think about it," Ginny said mirthfully. "If you forget about the whole pureblood rubbish and House enmity, he is quite a catch."
Hermione sighed. "I guess. But what do I do now?"
Ginny shrugged. "What do you want to do about it?"
"Nothing." Hermione shook her head then buried her face in her palms, leaning her elbows on her knees. "Nothing at all. If I try to do something, no doubt I'll just botch it all up."
"Then don't do anything, if you don't want to," Ginny said. "You don't have to act on all your emotions, not every crush is worth pursuing, you know."
Hermione looked up at her. "It's just a crush. That's it," she said, desperately hopeful that that was all it was. "Just a crush, nothing to it."
"Er… sure," Ginny said with a reassuring smile.
--
Author's Notes: Well that was an interesting chapter to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. And please do leave a review. Also, thanks so much to all of you who took the time to drop a line or two. I really appreciate it. And for those who have not commented yet, please leave me something pretty. Lol. Thanks again and churrah!