Chapter 7 - Such bravery
"Pansy? Can I ask you something?"
"Clearly."
Hermione sighs. She and Pansy are both sitting in their dorm on a Sunday afternoon a few days after the scene in Transfiguration.
She can't stop thinking about it. Malfoy had gone from standoffish to dangerously angry to politely helpful to overly friendly in the span of a few minutes. Not to mention the touching — her hand on his wrist, the whole sides of their bodies in the chair — and the laughter. Her laughter, as well as his.
There's something not right with him, and she intends to find out what it is. If he was a puzzle before, he's a full-on mystery now.
Harry had told her what Theo said about Malfoy. About him having no choice. Between that and what they observed in Diagon Alley before school… she's worried. About what he could be doing and why. For whom.
And. Almost never, Granger. She keeps hearing him say those words in her head.
Not that she cares about Malfoy's happiness.
But still, he's obviously troubled by something. When you add all of it together, he could be more dangerous than anyone realises. Moody, arrogant, confused, and under tremendous pressure.
It's only a matter of time before a thing under pressure bursts.
"May I ask you a question, then? About Malfoy?" Hermione asks. She can't think where else to go but to Pansy.
Pansy closes her book and studies Hermione carefully. She looks like she's been expecting this.
"Fine. Come here." She points to the end of her bed and Hermione goes, sitting with her legs tucked up gingerly.
The instant she's in place, Pansy closes the curtains sharply and silences them. It's a moment for privacy, then.
"So," Hermione starts with a deep breath, "in Transfiguration the other day —"
"Yes, yes, I know," Pansy interrupts impatiently. "Draco told me all about it."
"He did? What did he say?"
"Do you want me to tell him everything you say in this conversation?"
"No!"
"Then don't ask me to break confidences," Pansy says simply. "Remember he's my friend."
The implication being and you are not.
"Forget it then!" Hermione says, frustrated. "I don't even know why I'm here."
"You wanted to ask a question," Pansy reminds her with the intonation of talking to a child. "Ask it," she adds, voice going harsh.
Hermione takes a second to remember Malfoy's voice, the anger in his eyes, the image of pressure, about to burst. How dangerous he could be to those she loves. Ron. Ginny. Harry.
"I guess my question is," she says softly, closing her eyes, "is he okay?"
When she opens her eyes, Pansy speaks. "No," she says. "He's not. But you knew that already, or you wouldn't have asked."
"So, he is doing something then. For…"
"I didn't say that." Pansy speaks sharply. Hermione notes that she didn't say no, he's not, either.
"He's having a tough term, that's all," Pansy continues, her voice gentler. "You'd do well to stay out of it. For your own good."
Hermione turns that over in her mind. "So he is dangerous, then? He might hurt me, is what you're saying."
"I'm saying you could get hurt. There's a difference." Pansy punctuates her words by pointing a finger at Hermione. "And honestly, you don't need to pretend to be worried about the danger."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
They sit in silence for a moment. Hermione doesn't feel even remotely like she got what she came for, though honestly, she doesn't know what she expected.
But she's come this far, she might as well toss out one more question for Pansy to avoid. In for a knut, in for a galleon.
"In class the other day… I touched him, without thinking. His wrist. And then in the chair…" She suddenly finds Pansy's bedspread fascinating.
"Is that a question?"
"It's just… why wasn't he upset? I'm a muggle-born, he thinks I'm disgusting. He's said as much – and worse – over and over again."
Pansy looks like she wants to laugh, but she purses her lips together, stopping herself. It takes a few moments before she can speak.
"What is disgust, really?" she says with a shrug, as if that settles it. She sighs when Hermione keeps looking at her expectantly. "He doesn't think muggle-borns are literally filthy. It's a metaphor, Granger."
"So you're saying Malfoy just suddenly doesn't care about blood status? I find it hard to believe that all the times he called me a 'disgusting mudblood' he was just saying that."
Pansy leans her head forward, pinches the bridge of her nose, and makes a noise of exasperation.
"I don't know how to explain this to you if you're committed to not understanding!" She snaps, then pauses for a second and raises a hand to stop Hermione from speaking while she gathers her thoughts. "Look," she says sternly. "Draco and I grew up the same. I can't speak for him, but I'll speak for myself. I'm actually quite progressive, you know."
Hermione raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Compared to my parents, anyway," she amends. "I mean, you should have seen the letter my mother sent when you first moved in here. Warning me that you could be carrying some sort of disgusting muggle disease."
"So you don't think I'm diseased? And according to you that makes you a progressive?" Hermione says incredulously, both at the words and the sharp turn in the conversation.
"Precisely. I don't think you're disgusting — and I don't think Draco does either — I just don't think muggle-borns belong here."
"Excuse me? You don't think I deserve a magical education? Even the founders of Hogwarts, even the most conservative ministers—"
"Granger." Pansy rolls her eyes. "Your capacity for jumping to the worst conclusion is astounding. I didn't mean Hogwarts. I'm not insane. Do you know how dangerous it would be for children with magic to not come to school? You don't belong in Slytherin, is all I meant. You wouldn't belong at my mother's lunch club or on the school's board of directors, either."
"And why not?" Hermione crosses her arms and purses her lips. Pansy is wrong, obviously, but she's almost curious to hear her explanation.
"Because you haven't earned it. You and your family have only known about the magical world for what, five years? My family has been here for hundreds of generations." Pansy shrugs. "It makes a difference. We're different."
"But why should who your parents are determine your access to education? Or what house you're in? Or whether you can earn a position of power? That doesn't make any sense! Muggle-borns are every bit as capable of magic as purebloods!"
"Haven't you been listening? First of all, I never said anything about muggle-borns not being capable of magic. You are very capable, Granger. No one could possibly deny that." Pansy looks at her as if expecting some sort of gratitude for her barely-there compliment. "I also believe I specifically said that muggle-borns need education as much as anyone. Don't put words in my mouth."
"Okay, fine. But that doesn't mean only one type of person should have access to elite spaces or get to make the decisions for everyone else!"
"It does if they're the most qualified and experienced for the job. And who says there can't be muggle-born clubs or whatever? Just because purebloods socialise with each other, doesn't mean other groups can't make their own social spaces."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Hermione nearly shouts. "Haven't you ever studied history? That type of thing never works! There's no such thing as 'separate but equal'!"
Pansy remains infuriatingly calm. "I was trying to explain something to you, Granger. I think I've done that. As I believe we've discussed before, arguing about this sort of thing in Slytherin is futile. I think that's quite enough."
Pansy moves to cancel the silencing charm and open the curtains, only to freeze in place when the dormitory door opens. Daphne and Tracey's voices drift through.
Pansy closes the curtains again, and puts the silencing charm back up. "Don't move," she says. "I want to hear this."
There's no reason for her to obey, not really. But between her natural curiosity and the way she's reeling from her conversation with Pansy, she does.
"Is Pansy here?" Daphne says quietly.
"And Millie, probably," Tracey sniggers. "They'll be silenced."
Pansy's face reddens, though her expression remains tightly controlled and neutral. Hermione looks between her and the closed curtains, putting together what she should have realised the night of Slughorn's party. It explains a lot about Pansy, actually.
There's a sound of somebody flopping down on a bed.
"So you really think Theo's going to break up with you?"
"I don't know, Trace! Everything was fine over the summer, but now he's in Gryffindor, it's like he never wants to see me…"
"Has he actually said anything, though? I know it sucks, but it makes sense that things are a bit different now, right?" Tracey sounds genuine and supportive.
Daphne sounds desperate and sad. "We had a good talk by the lake the other week, and he agreed things feel different, and he said he'd make an effort. But he hasn't. I don't know what more I can do."
The dormitory is silent for several moments.
"Maybe you should sleep with him," Tracey suggests.
"What! Trace!" Daphne laughs and it sounds like she hits her with a pillow.
"Hey!" Tracey shrieks, hitting her back. Then, more pragmatically: "I'm not kidding, you know. You want to get his attention, don't you?"
"C'mon, you know Theo's not like that."
"He's a sixteen year old boy, Daph. They're all like that." There's another pause. "No need to glare at me, it was just a suggestion. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world though, would it?"
"No, it wouldn't," Daphne sighs. "But I want it to be at the right time, for the right reasons, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." There's a shuffle of movement. "Want me to turn on the wireless?"
Before long, the dormitory is filled with the sounds of Celestina Warbeck and Hermione realises they have a problem.
"Um, I would like to leave at some point," she says.
"Then go," Pansy replies, gesturing sarcastically in the direction of the door.
"But they'll know we were listening!"
"So? For a supposed Gryffindor, you're really not very brave."
Hermione sputters for something to say. "Fine! But you have to go first."
"Such bravery," Pansy snorts. But Hermione swears she sees her smile too, just a little.
That same afternoon, Theo sits in the library researching swords.
He's put the Divination essay off to the last possible minute. It's not going to be his best ever work, but he's chosen a bright, sunny corner of the library and he's managed to find a book on the history of swords. He also has his divination textbook in front of him and the large table to himself, so all together it's not the worst way to spend an afternoon.
There are three main symbolic meanings of swords in divination — bravery, power, and strength.
Theo decides to write about strength. It's the least interesting of the three, but if he wrote about bravery it could be interpreted as a treatise on why he's always secretly desired to be in Gryffindor, which he's not touching with a ten-foot pole. And writing about a genuinely non-existent desire for power could end up sounding too much like sympathy for a certain power-hungry tyrant.
So strength it is. He supposes he desires strength. To be strong.
He's basically on his own in his family, one way or another, what with his father facing down a long sentence in Azkaban and/or a long sentence of servitude to the Dark Lord. That could take a bit of strength.
Dealing with Harry Potter every day takes strength. Putting on a red and gold tie every day takes strength. Climbing up to Gryffindor tower every day takes strength. (Literally. It's a lot of stairs.)
He keeps his essay vague and writes in large print to eat up more inches of parchment. Just as he's starting on the conclusion, Neville shows up.
"Is that the Divination essay?" he asks, plopping down on the other side of the table.
"Yeah. I'm almost done."
"I got mine done yesterday. Pretended I saw a house, wrote about desire for home and stuff," Neville says, speaking quickly. "But I've just remembered my herbology essay! It's due tomorrow, well sort of, it's extra credit. But I want to do it, it's about the soil needs of carnivorous plants. Did you know that if the soil has too much peat the plants can become more aggressive?"
Theo smiles as he shakes his head. It's cute. That's the word that comes to mind when Neville talks about plants. Cute. He's cute.
"Anyway, sorry I interrupted your work, I'll let you get back to it. Do you mind if I sit here, by the way?" Neville asks earnestly.
"Sure," Theo nods. "Whatever you want."
"But I want lots of things," Neville says casually. Then, going red, he fixes his face pointedly on his parchment.
Theo's tries to turn back to his essay. He has to read the whole thing over twice to remember what exactly he's trying to conclude.
Neville stays focused on his work, and Theo's never found silence more distracting.
He finishes his essay and considers going to find Daphne or maybe Draco to spend the rest of the afternoon with, but instead he reads ahead in his Divination textbook and watches Neville out of the corner of his eye. He's working furiously on his herbology essay and every time he stops to think he sucks the end of his quill absently into his mouth, and Merlin. It's a lot for Theo to handle.
"There," Neville announces after a while, punctuating his final sentence with a flourish. "All done."
"Nice," Theo says inanely. "I finished mine, too. The symbolism of swords in Divination of Desires."
"Ooh cool! So you saw a sword, then? What do you think that means?"
"It could mean a few things," Theo offers vaguely. "I wrote about strength."
Neville emits an interested hum, then starts rolling up his parchment, as if getting ready to leave. Which makes sense. Seeing as he was here to work, and has finished working.
There's no reason for Theo to feel rejected about it.
"What are you doing the rest of this afternoon?" he blurts out.
Neville shrugs. "Luna said she was going to go see the thestrals today, I might go with her. You?"
"I dunno. I might just stay here and read for a bit." He's not sure if it's a healthy or an unhealthy step to acknowledge that he has no intention whatsoever of seeking out Daphne today.
Neville's face relaxes. "Oh good, do you mind if I join you, actually? Thestrals really freak me out."
Theo laughs. "Yeah, me too."
There's a heaviness in the air of all the things left unsaid when they speak of thestrals, even as they both dissolve into laughter. More laughter than the moment calls for, really.
And just then, the light in the library changes. The sun comes out from behind a cloud or something and Theo has this vivid sense of deja vu.
There's Neville, golden hair glinting in the light, face full of laughter.
Like a vision.
Like Theo's vision, specifically, in the crystal ball.
He's… beautiful. That's the word that comes to mind now.
The laughter dies on Theo's lips and he feels something else coming to the surface. The thing he hasn't said aloud. The thing for which the evidence is piling up monumentally. The thing he shouldn't – can't – acknowledge. That he would certainly terrify Neville with if he did.
But he wants. Oh how he wants. To let it come to the surface. To say something. Or to just reach across the table and –
"Do you mind?" Hermione Granger says out of nowhere, pulling out a chair at the end of their table without waiting for a response. "The library's packed today."
It takes tremendous effort for Theo to draw his eyes away from Neville and focus on Granger, nodding his assent for her to sit with them.
It's probably a good thing she showed up to interrupt. Not that there was anything to interrupt, not really. And besides, nothing good could have come from it. From anything he wanted to say or do. It's a relief really, that she's here.
And yet he wants to tell her to leave. He wants to drag her out of the library by the Slytherin-green tie she stole from him. He wants to light a book on fire, just to upset her.
"How's it going, Hermione?" Neville says brightly.
She huffs. "I've been trying to find a quiet place to work for ages. I don't know why the library is this busy on a Sunday. I suppose everyone's left things to the last minute." She looks judgmentally at Theo's essay. "But that means those of us trying to work ahead have nowhere to go. I was planning to work in my dorm today, but — well, it doesn't matter. How are you, Neville?"
"I'm good, I was just finishing up the bonus essay for herbology."
"Oh, yes, I did that one too," she says and proceeds to ask Neville several questions about carnivorous plants and soil and also spider venom for some reason? Theo's not sure how it relates to anything, but they both seem to be having a great time.
"Well, I guess I'll be heading out then," Theo says irritably when he can get a word in edgewise.
"Oh." Neville looks confused. "I thought you were staying?"
"I changed my mind." He shoves his Divination essay into his bag.
"Sorry, Theo, please don't leave on my account," Granger says. "I'm going to be quiet and work now, you won't even know I'm here." She pulls out a giant book and buries herself behind it, as if to demonstrate.
Which is all well and good, but Theo's already started his dramatic exit, so he can't exactly stay behind at this point.
"It's fine," he says tersely, banishing the sword book back to it's shelf. "I really should go find Daphne anyway."
"Oh good!" Granger says, obviously taking that silence thing she promised seriously. "I'm so glad."
"Sorry?"
Granger flushes. "Nothing."
"No really, what?" Theo presses as he stands up, louder than strictly necessary. "You want me to leave that badly?"
"Theo…" Neville says.
Theo is determined to glare at Granger until she speaks.
"No, of course not! It's just…" Granger hesitates. "I think Daphne misses you, is all."
"And why would you care about that?"
"I shouldn't have said anything," she sighs. For a second, she seems done. "I live with her though, you know. I hear things."
Theo throws his bag over his shoulder. "Well, stop listening!" he snaps absurdly and marches out of the library.
He can just make out the sound of Neville saying something gentle to Granger as he leaves.
Theo spends the rest of the afternoon in his dorm, curtains shut around his bed. He doesn't emerge for several hours.
He spends his self-imposed time-out picking at a loose thread on his pillowcase and listing all the things that annoy him about Hermione Granger.
Then, to make himself feel better, he pictures Neville laughing in the sunlight. But that only makes him feel worse, since he's just made an idiot of himself in front of him. And that just reminds him of how he nearly made an even worse idiot of himself right before Granger arrived.
He can't say anything to Neville. Not now. Likely never.
They're friends. He can't afford to drive away one of the only friends he has.
And for what? It's not like Neville wants the same thing! Although, there have been moments where Theo's wondered… But no. Neville is his friend.
And besides, there's Daphne. Yes, he's been avoiding her for weeks – but that doesn't mean she doesn't count, right? They're still together, at least technically. Just because it's not the same as it used to be, he can't just drop her, the minute he has – what? A silly little crush on a friend?
No.
What he wants doesn't matter. Whatever he saw in the crystal ball doesn't matter.
Wanting something doesn't mean you get to have it.
A/N: Beta-love as always to Sunshine_celine, this week for putting up with my angst over my inability to write flirty banter.
And thanks to everyone else for reading! Would love to hear your thoughts ❤️