A/N: Hello everyone! My brother is too lazy to reinstall Microsoft Word atm so I'm actually writing this up on WordPad. The new Copy&Paste feature really does come in handy. I apologize now if the font and/or organization is horrible.
I've gotten a few anonymous reviews, which will be answered in my ending AN so as to not distract from the chapter too much.
Did I mention this chapter is basically more pure dialogue? Oops...
Without further ado.
Quick recap: Ron and Harry discussed the 'situation' over at the Quidditch Pitch where Ron suggests to trust Hermione's judgement concerning the Malfoy issue. Ginny is with Hermione, garnering any and all information during a sleepover. Meanwhile Blaise interrupted Draco's (supposed to be) peaceful sleep. When the Italian refuses to leave, Draco attempts to find solace in the Kitchens. Instead, he runs into Harry and Ron.
The room remained in a tense silence; the only noise being the few house elves who returned to their work after the sudden commotion. The remaining elves stood, trembling, as they looked on at the scene before them. The rivalry of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter was no secret, not even to the staff of Hogwarts. If anything went wrong, there could be damage of epic proportions. After about a full minute of a silently intense staring match, Potter broke the silence.
"What are you doing here?"
I scoffed. "It's a free country, Potter. You're not the only one who knows the entrance to the infamous kitchens."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I intended to ingest some sort of nutrient to steel myself for dealing with that one," at which point I gestured to Blaise, "but unfortunately ran into you idiots instead."
"I'm almost offended, Drake," Blaise commented.
Potter looked between the two of us, probably unused to joking Slytherins, his glare softening but his gaze still filled with suspicion. "What have you done to Hermione?"
"Are we really going to have this talk now, and here of all places?" I sighed.
"Why don't you have a seat and make yourself more comfortable?" he suggested with a sweep of his arm.
"I suppose we are then." I looked to Blaise who merely shrugged. Always the unhelpful one. "Whatever." I took a seat across the table from where Potter had been as Blaise took the seat beside me across from Weasley. "Let's just get this over with," I sighed dramatically as The-Boy-Who-Refused-To-Just-Die returned to the table. I may not be able to curse him out of this century seeing as it would upset Hermione, but no one ever said I had to be polite.
"Ever since the last ball the two of you have been up to something, that I'm sure of," the bespectacled wizard stated certainly. "What I'm curious about is how you managed to brainwash her into liking you in the slightest. Hermione is a brilliant witch so your choice of sabotage was either very subtle or extremely overpowering."
"Hate to break it to you, Potter, but no form of sabotage was required. I simply told her the truth."
"The truth about what?"
I groaned internally. I really did not want to talk of my feelings about Hermione with Potter of all people. They were my feelings so they should be no one else's business, right? Well other than Hermione's, I supposed. Now I needed to find a way to placate Potter without revealing anything mushy or mortifying. "The truth about how she changed me." There, still vague but not too inaccurate.
"What is that supposed to mean?" the Chosen One pried.
"Exactly what it says."
"She changed you? Changed you how? I don't understand what you're trying to get at."
Scarhead's prying was beginning to get under my skin. What was it with Gryffindors and their damned curiosity? Did they not know their social cues? "I'm about to say some things I've never told anyone, so you better listen closely. I'll only be saying this once." I can't believe I actually have to go through with this! But it would be said on my terms, not a word more than I chose to speak.
"I'm listening," he said as he leaned over the table. Apparently he could hear better in that position.
"My father is an utter prick and I hate him. I always have, since I was old enough to understand the hypocrisy he preached. He forced me to serve Voldemort when he rose again and later to take the Dark Mark; I had no other choice. I had nowhere to run to, no one who would protect me. So I pretended to agree with his principles. I obeyed because I knew if I didn't I would die. Or worse, they would torture my mother." I exhaled deeply and decided to skip ahead in time a bit. "Granger had been the only one to question me, to stand against me, and I hated her for having the gusto to do so. I hated that although she was a mudb- muggleborn she always scored higher than me. I hated that she obtained your friendship when I had failed to do so. I hated how the three of you were worshiped. I hated all of it."
As I took another breath Potter gasped, a light of recognition coming over his features. "Your father beat you because of that, all of it," he breathed.
I nodded, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing my voice break. A part of me wondered how he could tell, but I pushed that wandering thought aside. After steeling myself further, I continued. "The day Granger hit me became the day of my epiphany. I began standing up for myself at home, especially when my mother was mistreated. That all stopped the day Voldemort took residence in the manor." I shuddered involuntarily, the images of beady eyes and the telltale hissing voice filling my mind. "He gave me my orders and I followed them."
"But I still don't understand," Potter interrupted. "What does any of this have to do with Hermione?"
This would be the hardest part, but the faster I got it over with, the faster this conversation would be finished. "She was the light at the end of my tunnel of darkness."
The Weasel snorted. "How poetic."
Even Blaise let out a muffled laugh and I resisted the urge to slap him upside the back of his head. Instead I settled for a gruff, "Yeah, well."
"So I'm assuming you eventually built up the balls to tell her all of this recently?" Potter inquired, a hint of amusement discernible in his tone.
"Pretty much."
"If you hurt her, I'll have to kill you," he said as if it were the most well-known fact in the entire wizarding world.
"I'm aware of Gryffindors and their sense of pride," I replied. "And as much as I hate to admit it, I'd gladly let you do so if the time ever came."
He leaned back in his seat and sighed, releasing a large breath he seemed to have been holding since the moment we locked eyes. "She really has changed you, hasn't she?"
"I'd get a piece of you too, don't forget," Weasel interjected once he had greedily swallowed the last gulp of his pumpkin juice.
"I'm not afraid of you, Weasley," I chuckled. "At least Potter has some of Snape's old hexes in his repertoire to threaten me with. I'd be amazed if you could actually hit me with a spell." Yes, I probably shouldn't have egged the hothead on, but it was too much fun not to say at least one thing. Now that I thought about it, he'd been quiet during the conversation between Potter and I. I had expected at least some sort of explosion from the duo, but perhaps they'd matured even more than I had thought possible.
Weasley's face predictably turned a bright red and a sure-to-be witty remark was on the tip of his tongue. Instead of the barrage of yelling I had prepared for, he merely exhaled and shook his head. "I'm not taking your bait, Malfoy. Not anymore."
"I'm impressed. It seems you've gained more maturity than Potter since the last time we had the pleasure of conversing."
The wizard in question made a sound of protest, but even he seemed surprised by his sidekick's lack of response.
The four of us sat in silence. Everything that needed to be said had been said and no one was keen on saying anything more. I may have just told my arch rival some of my innermost tales, but I refused to degrade myself to friendly conversation, especially if Hermione wasn't around to witness it. Apparently the almighty Potter felt the same.
"Well, see you around, I suppose." And with those six awkward words, he stood and strode out of the room.
Blaise and I turned our attention to Weasley, who still sat motionlessly in his seat. I assumed he would follow Potter's lead, but instead he said something I hadn't been expecting. He seemed to be full of surprises tonight. "I will never approve of you, but Hermione does and I guess I'll just have to accept that in the long run." He sighed and passed his hand through his ginger mop. "Just don't expect things between us to get friendly. Probably ever."
I nodded. I had no intention of becoming lovey-dovey with the two of them either. I would tolerate them for Hermione's sake but anything more would take time, if things were to change at all.
"Right then." He stood, thanked the house elves for their assistance, and left without another word to either Blaise or me.
Once we were alone, Blaise slouched back into his chair. "Well, that went differently than expected." Unsurprisingly, he called a house elf over and asked for two glasses of Butterbeer as well as some scones. In response to my amused stare he said, "What? Dealing with Gryffindors has only increased my appetite."
A/N: Review replies: Jen - The "steamy parts" as you so awesomely put it are still up in the air. If I do write anything of the sort, it will probably be posted under a different story (aka a one-shot or something) because some of my readers are uncomfortable with such scenes.
Guest - I plan on finishing the story, although I still have no idea how long it's actually going to be. But thank you for taking time to review!
I'm officially making 'whatever' Draco's go-to phrase when he's annoyed. They seemed to prefer the civil route, but I can assure you that their tendency to hate each other isn't over in the slightest.
If you have anything to say, I'd love to hear it!