Learning You Were Wrong

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK. Not me. Only things that are mine are the plot and the Glacios curse *stamps copyright symbol on them*

A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers!!! *takes deep breath* Kaitee/Jesse, HB (x2), Kirina, I Dunno, CatalianaRose, allee kat, L. Meylan (x2), Draconis Summers, Syaoran Girl (x2), me, Akuma Canadian Angel, Aniron, GwenFitz, bug-a-lugs926, firey fairy, aquamarine angel, KAOS, SophieBabe, Goddess-Isis-112, Lexy, angel-in-disguise, EvilFireWitch, Sila-chan, iceheart-04, shibbydragongirl, MoonDancerCat and Amythest-Angel462!!!

~*~

One of the things Hermione normally liked about Runes was that, like Arithmancy, there were quite a lot of lessons per week. Due to the difficulty of the subjects, there was only one day out of five in which they didn't have a lesson. Hermione didn't know how they managed to sort out the timetables, but she suspected magic had a hand in it. Usually Hermione liked these lessons, but now that she had to work with Draco she was starting to dread them.

That day's Runes lesson was directly after lunch, and so at a quarter past one Hermione was once again sitting in the classroom next to the pale haired Slytherin. After being instructed about a difficult rune they had not previously come across, the class was quickly assigned to work on the next few pages. Hermione and Draco fell into a stubborn silence, a black hole surrounded by a whirling constellation of chatter.

Hermione sat in silence, half her mind occupied with the translation, and the other half on other things. Mostly Draco, of course, and his uncharacteristic apology this morning. What had happened? Why had he apologised?

The mysteries of a Malfoy's mind were difficult to penetrate, and after a few half hearted and wild ideas she was forced to give up. It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical.

She supposed she might as well ask.

'So why did you apologise?' she asked. If Draco was surprised at her question he didn't show it.

'Good manners.' he replied without looking at her.

'I didn't know you even knew what manners were.' Hermione gave Draco a sideways glance.

'Of course I know what manners are. I have been brought up properly.' He said with a trace of annoyance.

'Really? I've never seen you use them.'

'Well I wasn't taught to use them with Mudbloods.'

Hermione glared at him, smoothing back a few hairs that had fallen into her eyes. He glanced towards her, grey eyes meeting brown for a tenth of a second, and gave her one of his signature smirks.

She decided that a retort would merely lead to argument, and went back to her original question.

'So why did you apologise this morning?'

Draco completely ignored her, and scribbled down a sentence in his impeccable handwriting.

'Are you going to answer me?'

'Maybe after you're dead?'

Hermione rolled her eyes, and went back to the translation.

'The problem with you' began Draco after a minutes pause, 'is that you're a total bookworm. Always at class at time, love all the subjects... so sickeningly good.'

Even though this was what she strove for normally, something in Draco's manner made Hermione want to argue back. It irritated her. She didn't want to argue, but he knew exactly how to irritate her into quibbling.

'I don't love all the subjects. I can't stand Divination.' she pointed out.

'Divination?' he asked, giving her an intrigued sideways glance that made her instantly think of a cat.

'And Potions, I suppose,' she added with some resentment, 'but that's only because of Snape being a biased prejudiced...'

            Draco cut in, now tilting his head to look at her full on. 'Yes, I think I knew that already. But what about Divination?'

            'It's stupid, and very woolly, and a load of guesswork.'

He looked affronted. 'It is not all guesswork.'

'Yes it is. All I ever did was pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves and crystal balls and...'

He cut in on her again. 'You used to take it?'

Hermione nodded. 'I quit about halfway through. Professor Trelawney said I 'didn't have the right aura.'

If he didn't know that oh-so-perfect-Hermione didn't insult her teachers, Draco would have sworn he heard her mutter something about a stupid old bat.

'Well some people don't have the right aura. It can't be helped.' he said patronisingly.

'And I suppose you have the right aura?'

'I do, actually. My grandmother was a Seer. It's in the genes.'

            Hermione rolled her eyes, and double-checked the sentences Draco had written down. Annoyingly they were right.  It was almost as if she wanted him to get them wrong, so she could point it out.

            Slowly the class wore on, seeming that it would never end. The story they were translating, though, seemed to be at a good part, and the class was full of whispers over the characters' predicaments. Hermione looked over the paragraph they had just finished, and read it aloud.

            'Suddenly, Azura was grabbed by the arm. In the space it took to draw breath, a hand had been clamped over her mouth, stifling her stillborn scream. She was whirled into a side alley, and found herself looking directly into the silver-grey eyes of her attacker. The silver-grey eyes which flashed into green… He was one of the dark race, a Tenebrae…' Hermione gasped. 'But she'll be killed!'

            'Why do you think so?' asked Draco, amusedly.

            'Well, it's one of the Tenebrae.' Hermione said, staring at him. It should be obvious! 'We know they're evil, I mean, they attack all the villages… they killed Chandra's parents…'

            'It's the basic plot of most books.' Draco drawled, sounding bored. 'Person X, who is of the 'good' side, runs into Person Z, who is supposedly of the 'bad' side, turns out not to be, they have a passionate romance and save the world.'

            'That is not the basic plot of most books. I've read hundreds nothing like that.'

            Draco replied in the patient tones usually reserved for very slow toddlers. 'I was referring to wizarding books, not your Muggle ones.'

            'So you think Azura will have a romance with this… Tenebrae?' Hermione asked, gesturing towards the parchment. If there was one thing Draco was good at, it was annoying her. 'No chance!'

            'They will. And they'll 'save the world.'

            'No way. He's evil. Chandra will probably kill him, and they'll escape.'

            Draco grinned, the kind of grin that a psychopathic sadist makes before doing very gruesome things to his victim.

            'Want to bet on it?' he asked.

            'Five Galleons they don't get together.'

            'Deal.'

            They worked on, and to Hermione's annoyance the Tenebrae was not killed, and did not appear to want to kill anyone. She could sense an air of smugness radiating from Draco that made her want to rip out his tonsils.

            'Any other famous stories you don't like? ' she asked, trying to keep some air of civil conversation.

            'Thousands.'

'Tell me one.'

Draco examined his quill, thinking. 'The Trojan War, for one. The whole wooden horse part.'

'I'd have thought that would have been just your thing. The whole, 'I am a Slytherin, I am cunning and evil, I will trick you into defeat' complex you seem to have.' teased Hermione.

Draco made a quick retort. 'Like your, 'I am a Gryffindor, I am brave, I will run recklessly and suicidally into danger and get blown to pieces by Dark curses' complex?'

He used exactly the same sarcastic tones as Hermione had. She glowered at him.

'I have no problem with the whole wooden horse idea.' he went on, 'It's the Trojans that annoy me. 'Oh look, the Greek army have gone, and they've left us a wooden horse just big enough to fit a few hundred soldiers armed to the teeth inside, and still have ample room for sanitary facilities! What a lovely gift! Let's wheel it into the city!' How stupid can you get? Stupider than you Gryffindors, and that's extremely difficult.'

            'Ok, enough with the inter-house rivalry.'

            'Fine, I'll stop.'

            He paused just long enough for the look of surprise to register on her face.

            'But that just means I'll move on to blood rivalry.'

            Hermione glared violently at him, and the conversation melted away like snow, replaced by the stony silence.

            After a few minutes she mumbled 'I suppose you have a point with that Trojan war thing.'

            'Yes, I do.' he replied, and they didn't speak again until the end of class.

~*~

The Slytherin common room wasn't cold, contrary to popular belief. Despite its placement amongst the dungeons, a mixture of fires and spells kept the rooms warm night and day. It wasn't dark, either; high windows that came above ground level let in daylight.

But Draco didn't care whether it was warm or cold. He could only feel the eternal ice of the Glacios curse. Few of his fellow Slytherins knew of the curse, none cared. For while the room itself was warm enough, another kind of coldness hung over the place. While 'evil' Slytherins were mostly in the minority, even those who were not amongst the Dark Lord's followers were still remote and unfriendly. It was a part of who they were. Slytherins were cunning, ambitious and often power hungry. Success in these fields meant keeping your distance, not letting yourself become too attached to people, lest they be used against you. Searching for weaknesses in others, and turning them to your benefit. So, while some Slytherins had friends they could laugh with, most merely had allies. Their common room was a land without trust. Trust brought weakness.

Draco Malfoy sat in his usual seat, close to the back of the room, away from the fire. The hierarchy of Slytherins was subtle. Most of the people who had forced their way up the ranks sat at the front, in the best seats near the fire. Draco did not need to sit there. He had been born into one of the oldest wizarding families, long-time supporters of the various Dark wizards and witches throughout the ages, and was feared and respected by students both old and young.

So he sat at the back, a shadowed ghost that needed only its presence to command respect. He preferred the quiet, empty seats away from the main group of people. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting to his right, playing, of all things, chess. And playing it badly.

Draco was thinking. To be more precise, he was mentally cursing Hermione with every curse he knew. It was her fault, this. His father had taught him to hate Mudbloods. His whole life had been centred on that one belief. And now? Hermione – no, Granger - had shattered it all with one well-placed question. And even more irritatingly, he had begun to respect her for it. He wished he could just ignore it. Forget about it; go back to his old beliefs and old ways. He had tried in the Runes lesson, tried to insult her and Mudbloods… but it was impossible. She had caused him to question why Purebloods were better, and he hadn't found the answer. He was a creature of logic, and when he found something that was not logical, he could not force himself to believe.

No one must ever know, of course. He would continue as normal.

But could he? Knowing that there could be no reason for Pureblood superiority, could he whole-heartedly continue insulting and fighting and go on, eventually, to join the ever-increasing ranks of the Death Eaters?

He couldn't. And he hated himself for it.

~*~

A/N: Did you like it? I know not much happened – but there's some important information in there. And in chapter five I can promise you that lots of things happen… Can anyone guess where the chapter name comes from? Clue: It's a Disney song. First person to guess wins some virtual chocolate!

Also, I'm going to start sending out emails when I update. If you'd like me to send you one, tell me your address in your review!