Disclaimer: see another chapter

I said that I'd update today, and I am. So here it is. I might update again today, but probably tomarrow.

This chapter has 3 parts, Harry, Hermione and Draco, let's call them. So there's three songs. In order. And I don't mean Heaven Help Us as an insult, to any who would take it as one.

/watch?v=Bz6FtH2AJcg

/watch?v=7k4JYnufb7Q

/watch?v=d1Xs8DycaOQ


CHAPTER EIGHT: THE BEGINNING OF THE END

Somehow everything's gonna fall right into place
If we only had a way to make it all fall faster everyday
- Paramore
"Hallelujah"

Isn't it strange how we all get a little bit weird sometimes.
- Hanson
"Weird"

But can't tell if I've been breathing or sleeping
Or screaming or waiting for the man to call
And maybe all of the above
Cause mostly I've been sprawled on these cathedral steps
While spitting out the blood and screaming
"Someone save us!"
- My Chemical Romance
"Hevean Help Us"

"Sir!" Harry pounded on the door.

In the few seconds that it took Snape to open the door, Harry wondered if he would murder him. Seeing his face, Harry thought his chances of living through this were quite slim.

"Mr Potter," Snape said silkily, "there are no classes for first years this afternoon, I thought that would penetrate your impenetrably thick skull."

Harry wasn't going to bother telling Snape that that sentence was impossible.

"No, sir. I came here to ask why you hate me." Harry glared at the Potions Master.

"Oh?" Snape seemed truly surprised. "And why would you need to know such a thing?"

"Because I deserve to know," Harry said. "Was it something to do with my parents?"

Something stirred in Snape's eyes and Harry knew that he hit a bulls-eye.

"Was it my father?"

Snape's mouth curled into a mocking smile. "Why would you think so?"

"You called my father an attention seeking prat!" Harry exclaimed.

"That was the truth, Potter," Snape said slowly. "Your blessed father strutted about the castle, hexing anyone that was in front of him, simply because he could. He did most things that he did because people loved him; they worshipped the ground he walked on for the little talent he had on the Quidditch Pitch."

Snape looked like he was enjoying himself as Harry's anger receded and turned to horror.

"Now, excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

And he slammed the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Harry thought over Snape's words again and got his anger back…

"PROFESSOR!" Harry hammered the door again.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Why must you insist to break down my door?" Snape sneered dangerously as he opened the door again.

If Harry was worried about his chances of survival the first time, he was terrified that Snape was going to kill him then and there.

"That c-can't be true!" Harry stuttered.

"Is the famous Harry Potter too good for the truth?"

"You -- you -- you!" Harry was about to call Snape something that would get him a month's worth of detentions, but thought better of it.

"Perhaps you should finish that sentence," Snape suggested.

Harry held his tongue.

"Now, good day."

Snape slammed the door again, and Harry stalked angrily away, cursing the Potions Master under his breath. But within a minute his anger wore off and the real issue came to his mind as Harry slowed down, attempting to think.

He's got to be lying, Harry thought as he walked out of the dungeons. He's just got to; it's something else, then.

Harry couldn't and wasn't believe that his father was just so… so… so much of an attention seeking prat. What Snape told me has got to be some sort of stretch of the truth. He didn't think that someone could be such a good actor as to say that in complete conviction, so there should be some grain of truth in it. Harry winced. This was his father even if he never knew him, he was half of Harry and he wasn't going to believe that he was so horrible.

Harry kept his head down and walked through the dark stone corridors by memory, heading for the Great Hall or the courtyard where he left Draco, he didn't know which, he just kept walking up the spiral stairs.

He probably was just good at Quidditch and others appreciated him for it. Yes, that has to be it! Snape was jealous about his skill and he was good at jinxes and hexes, but didn't hex and jinx everyone he met. Harry was happy that he had figured out the truth in Snape's lies, so much that he was almost smiling, but something was nagging him, almost like he had missed something important.

Then it hit him. Why would Snape still be jealous? Harry's stomach dropped ten feet. Maybe the house competition and the jealously Snape kept for so long. But the words sounded false, there must be something else -- why would he hate Harry? Harry refused to believe that his father was so bad, so he skipped over to his mother.

Just as he was coming out of the dungeons and was going to the viaduct when he nearly ran into someone.

"Sorry," he mumbled and was going to walk by them when a shrill voice stopped him.

"Oh, yes, go on! Don't mind the Mudblood!"

Harry already had an idea about who he had bumped into, and sure enough, when he turned around, Hermione Granger stood there. If he was in his right mind, Harry probably would have left without a word, worrying that Draco would see him and the bet negated -- that he wouldn't try. But Harry wasn't in his right mind.

"Sorry," he said louder, then softened a bit when Hermione lost some of her anger. "You're not a Mudblood," he whispered.

"Um -- who, what? What?" she spluttered at him.

"You're not a Mudblood," Harry repeated. "You're a good witch, better than I am a wizard. You shouldn't be called a Mudblood."

He had seen her in Potions and knew that she was quite good, and Harry had already decided that no one deserved to be called a Mudblood -- it just seemed like it was such an insult.

"But you call everyone of my birth one," Hermione reminded. "Why should I be any different?"

For the thousandth time, Harry wished that he hadn't made the deal with Draco. It was true, he had called other Mudbloods "Mudbloods" to their faces when Draco was there. When he wasn't, Harry just moved on, ignoring them.

"You aren't," Harry said simply. "But Draco isn't here."

He could practically see the wheels turning in Hermione's head. She was trying to think back to whenever she had seen him be rude to blood traitors or Mudbloods -- was Draco in the picture somewhere? After a minute or so, she asked, "Why do you stay friends with him, then?"

"Draco's a good friend when he isn't spouting pureblood crap. And I have a bet -- more of a deal, really -- with him. That I'll do things his way for two weeks and then he'll, as he put it, 'give the filth a chance.'" Harry air-quoted. "We're both hoping to turn the other to our way of thinking. He's hoping that I'll be a 'proper wizard' and look down on everyone who isn't a pureblood, and pretend to be one myself. I'm hoping that he'll learn some sense and be a -- he doesn't even have to be good, but half-way would just fine with me."

Whatever Hermione had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this.

"Oh," was all she could say. "I-I suppose that that's a good reason," she said a bit later as Harry was walking away. "So when the four weeks are up you can both do what you want?" Hermione asked as she caught up with him.

"Pretty much." Harry shrugged. He was quite happy that she agreed that the price of two weeks being completely offensive to anyone and everyone until he knew of their blood-status was worth it if Draco could change. "A lot of people wish that they could change one thing about someone, and this is my one chance to change Draco, so I'm taking it."

"I won't take anything you say or do to me or someone else to heart for the next…?"

"Nine days," Harry supplied. "Thanks, Hermione. I don't want everyone to hate me after this. I think that may be why Draco wanted me to try this first; so that if I didn't change, everyone else would think that I was a… a… whatever you call it, and no one would bother to try and 'change me' back, so I would probably believe in the pureblood stuff later."

"You won't," Hermione said, letting him walk ahead of her, she turned around and went to another courtyard to read.

She had sat down, taken out Hogwarts: A History and had gotten to the part about the Four Founders when a large shadow came over her book. Squinting up, all she could see of the person was his Slytherin robes.

"You seen Harry Potter?" a snide voice asked from above her. "Oh!" he exclaimed, and then came out of the light and went around to see her properly. "Hello, Mudblood," he mockingly. "Have you seen Harry Potter?"

This question took Hermione off guard, it wasn't the actual question, but how he asked it. She assumed that he would be disgusted to have to stoop to asking 'Mudbloods' to find his friend, but he wasn't. if anything, he was curious, and a bit worried. For Harry, she thought.

"Are you stupid?" Malfoy demanded sharply, regaining what Hermione had seen in the compartment; his complete and total arrogance. "I asked you a question!"

"I heard you," Hermione said curtly, slamming her book. "I'm just wondering why you were almost civil to a Mud--person like me."

Malfoy's grey eyes glinted dangerously, but looked at oddly.

"Don't look at me like that!" Hermione snapped. "I don't know where Harry Potter is! Now, go away."

She opened the book again, and expected Malfoy to walk away or to stand there insulting her some more, but he did neither.

"You are very weird, even for a Mudblood," Malfoy said matter-of-factly.

"In what way?" Hermione asked, keeping her eyes on the page, but not reading anymore.

"You aren't ignorant of magic, not completely. You aren't weak and stupid. You don't have -- what?" he said when Hermione looked up at him, holding back a smile.

Harry's plan might be working, she thought. Malfoy just might be changing.

* * *

What am I doing? Draco demanded of himself. What is wrong with me? he asked, but he knew the answer. It had nothing to do with him, it had something to do with the Granger girl. She didn't seem like the cheating, sneaky, idiotic, ignorant, unimportant, pathetic Mudbloods his father had told him about. She was the one that was different. It has nothing to do with Mudbloods in general, Draco thought. It's just that she's different. I've seen loads of real Mudbloods, but she isn't one of them.

"You are a very weird, even for a pureblood," Granger said, returning to her book, but Draco could still see her half smile.

Draco sat a little away from her, thinking, staring up at the sun. He ran through each and every reason that he thought of the Mudblood as different. Everything from she was smarter than him to he was just worried about how things went with Harry and Snape. Draco let out a dark chuckle, he didn't want to be in Harry's shoes if he was disturbing Snape, he knew from experience that Snape could get quite angry.

His eyes wandered over the courtyard. There were a lot of people playing Gobstones or Wizard Chess, or even Exploding Snap and trading Wizard Cards. A few people here and there were doing homework in the sunshine, others were talking in little groups, and there were a few that were simply reading. Draco's eyes rested on the Granger Mudblood again, she was watching him. When he returned her gaze, she blushed and kept reading.

Smirking, Draco looked at the snake statue above him. Wondering, again, what was wrong with him. He hated it when he couldn't figure something out -- normally he could do it within a minute, and a mystery was the most annoying thing in the world, this one even worse because he felt like he didn't even know himself anymore. The familiar stranger. He didn't want to go and look for Blaise or Theo, or even Crabbe and Goyle to protect him -- the only temper that could be worse than Snape's was his father's, now he didn't care if he aggravated his father.

Draco wasn't particularly interested in the Mudblood in particular. He wanted to find Harry, but could care less why Snape hated him -- the only thing that Draco would have needed to know was that Snape hated Harry and that was that. He wanted to talk about their bet, their deal, their compromise. Draco looked back at the Mudblood and realized that she looked like any old pureblood, if he didn't know any better, he would have thought she was anything.

"That's what makes them so devious, they can appear like they are of any blood-status, but they are no better, even worse, than Muggles." His father's voice came back to him from years ago. Draco remembered his response to that.

"Why, father?" A simple why and it had lead to a long lecture from Aunt Bella.

Draco wanted to find Harry not because he wanted to discuss their deal, but because he wanted to discuss beliefs, because, at the moment, he was sticking by that why.

Draco felt as lost as Harry must have in the Wizarding World, but Harry had him and the others to help him. Who could help Draco when he was lost in himself? He didn't know what he thought anymore. A single Mudblood had made him question his entire belief system, made him wish for the days when nothing really mattered. Draco could feel the colour draining from his face. What would his father think of his son turned into a… a blood traitor! Draco didn't know and he didn't particularly want to find out.

Taking his eyes off the snake, Draco's eyes slid on the lion next to it. A bitter dread settled into him as he realised that he no longer agreed with his pureblood principals. He looked around the square again, trying to look for Mudbloods -- just as he expected, it didn't work. No one stood out, no one had Mudblood written on their foreheads. They were all the same, Draco considered his end of the deal; that he'd have to be nice to Mudbloods, blood traitors and the likes. That wasn't as shudder-inducing or as humorous as Draco had thought it on the train. It just seemed out of habit, he had learned that Mudbloods, blood traitors and the other filth were below him. That they were fit for slaves, and, of course, you don't treat slaves as equals.

Draco nervously chewed his lower lip and wondered how this would change things. He was no longer a proper Malfoy, a proper wizard. This wasn't good, he would have to hide this, but that didn't stop him from calling out, "Harry! There you are! I need to talk to you!" as Harry came into the courtyard.


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