TITLE: A Four Saturdays Detention (6/?)

AUTHOR NAME: smoke

AUTHOR EMAIL: tiziana_spano@yahoo.it

CATEGORY : Romance

KEYWORDS: Hermione Granger Draco Malfoy

SPOILERS: All The Books/All Four Books

RATING: PG 13

CHAPTER SUMMARY: A girl ponders whether she is beautiful. A boy fails to understand what she means.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

THANKS:
THE BETAS

PERSONAL NOTE: I hope you will enjoy this story.

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A FOUR SATURDAYS DETENTION

Chapter 7 - Third Saturday

An Eternity of an Impossible Tragic Escape

(Am I beautiful?)

Sempre caro mi fu quest'ermo colle,
e questa siepe, che da tanta parte
dell'ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude.
Ma sedendo e mirando, interminati
spazi di là da quella, e sovrumani
silenzi, e profondissima quiete
io nel pensier mi fingo; ove per poco
il cor non si spaura. E come il vento
odo stormir tra queste piante, io quello
infinito silenzio a questa voce
vo comparando: e mi sovvien l'eterno,
e le morte stagioni, e la presente
e viva, e il suon di lei. Così tra questa
immensità s'annega il pensier mio:
e il naufragar m'è dolce in questo mare.

Giacomo Leopardi, L'infinito - 1819

Always dear was to me this solitary hill,
and this hedgerow, closing out my view
from the greatest part of the ultimate horizon.
Yet sitting and gazing I shape in my mind
boundless spaces beyond, and unearthly
silences, and deepest quiet, where barely
the heart fails to terrify. And as soon as I hear
the wind rustling between the leaves, I begin
to compare that infinite silence
to its voice: and the eternal occurs to me,
and the dead seasons, and the present
and alive one, and its sound. So into
this immensity my thought drowns:
and to shipwreck is sweet in such a sea.

Giacomo Leopardi, The Infinite - 1819

(in my language we say "traduttore traditore" = "translator traitor")


She had simply freaked out. Panicking, she clawed his flesh, her nails trying to harm him. Her voice was not obeying her anymore, only some gasps passed her lips.
Her brain was working at light speed, these three Saturdays dazzling in a bursting row.
An ingenuous, even dumb, yes dumb, Muggleborn, alone in the Astronomy Tower with a Death-Eater-to-be, even worse, a Death-Eater-wanna-be... and an indecent proposal, (proposal or proposition? But who really cared now?) clearly stated at the very first beginning, dancing in the middle. What had she got herself into?

He let go of her abruptly, his body still pinning hers on the cushions; her own weight was somehow trapping them both.
His delicate fingers brushed away her hair from her forehead, hesitant: "I imagine I have to take this as a 'halt yourself'..." he was observing the girl, on alert, his thumb slowly stroking the curve between her eyebrows. She registered his voice was kind of cracked.

She nodded her head, her eyes widened. Hyperventilating. She felt terrorised, and all that she wanted was to feel free.

Draco rolled slowly on his side, taking her along with him, in the smooth movement: now they were both simply lying one near the other one.
Her first move was trying to flee, but he held her "Don't run away, just stay here, trying to be a peaceful girl"

Hermione looked for his gaze, tense, but he was not looking at her, his face was turned on the other side.
Cautiously she came closer, still ruffled, without grazing him. She heard him sigh.

He let her hand go, lying quietly, a limp body. No part of his body was brushing against her, only his hand was slowing toying with one of Hermione's locks, twirling it around his finger.

Gradually Hermione relaxed. When her breath was regular again, he asked gently: "Better now?"
She nodded shyly. She would have liked to see his expression, but Malfoy still was not looking at her.

"I am able to accept a no as possible answer... Were you afraid of hurting my sensitivity?". Irony.

"I was not listening to you." 'Too quick, Hermione, too quick'

"It is always a pleasure to perceive the deep consideration you have for my words," Sarcasm, now. Of course. What else?

She slowly shook her head, "I was ... I was ... scared."

"I had vaguely noticed something like that." Coldness.

She blushed, "I... I don't know exactly what I suddenly was thinking of." Thinking... oh yes, she knew exactly what she had been thinking of, but just the simple tentative of an explanation was horridly embarrassing.

"Oh, you have no clue about your heinous thoughts?" Completely detached.

After a jarring silence, Draco went back looking at her, a shadow of a smile in the corner of his lips: "Screwing a wild cat, or a scared mouse doesn't appeal me as a tempting experience. I do not long particularly such emotion."

She reddened again and looked away, but she could hear him clearly whisper "Victorian violet".

She moved. Quite offended. Quite. Oh sure, she had the holy right to say a "no", whenever, and to whoever. And Malfoy had the holy duty to accept it.
She had always thought this way. The trouble was that knowing to have a right, and using that right instinctively, not always walked together.

She shivered: another time this same thought. The breach between her rational thoughts and her everyday life was bugging her.
She tried to focus back to the motor of this whole matter.
She would have had to simply say that no, and wait for his reaction, in case, to freak out.
And now, she would have liked to use Malfoy as a punch bag, but, well, he had not that duty. She had not that right.
It was a trouble sometimes being rational and honest.

Unease.

She looked outside to avoid his eyes. Well, his eyes, his questions and her explanations, the whole usual crap between them.
She looked at the landscape.
She held her breath... how many things she didn't notice last Saturday!

The Astronomy Tower, was the highest tower of all Hogwarts and you could see in a remarkable way the stars, from that height. She could state it for sure: she had an A plus in Astronomy!

But what she had never noticed was the ground: you could see the intricate pattern of the Forbidden Forest, with all those shades of green.
A landscape that drowns you in the green and shelters you with the blue.
She had a smile, sinking in the green of the park, swimming to the green of the hills. But that green, well the hills, their green was an azure, and, more far they were, more bluish they appeared.
October was near, now, and the light didn't make the things sparkle.
But it had rained all day long, and the shapes looked more precise, definite.
You could see outlined the detachment between earth and sky.
But the sky was not blue, it was grey. Like ice. Like water and steam.

'But why, when we are kids we draw the sky and the earth always with the same colours, when real world has so many shades indeed?'

"It is so beautiful from here. The landscape, I mean." Suddenly she felt shy. Probably, on Malfoy's opinion, this place was simply a very quiet place for kissing, snogging and so on.

His voice was kind-hearted "Yes, it is beautiful. Sometimes the sky makes this whole world a black and white portrait. But after a while the light makes the colours more shiny. Even more than true colours.

And the Forest is a special view. The different stripes of greens creep, wriggle, contort, bend, build themselves in knots. Then, they abruptly change their minds, and look for a new direction, but nothing moves actually: it is an eternity of an impossible tragic escape. And all that wrapping, that getting entangled, the writhing, is the mirror of your thoughts, while you reflect."
He bite his tongue. He had gifted her more than he wanted.

She went on, quiet, thinking about something she had enjoyed reading, during her solitary summer: "There is a poetry, but I know only the translation...

And as soon as I hear
the wind rustling between the leaves, I begin
to compare that infinite silence
to its voice: and the eternal occurs to me,
and the dead seasons, and the present
and alive one, and its sound

She halted to breath, not at ease. 'What did I get myself into? Quoting a poetry to a boy, while alone with him? Much worse: to an ex Quidditch player? A Seeker might be comparing with the wind sound only a Golden Snitch flying light speed in front of him! Definitely eager of mockery, Hermione, aren't you?' She shrugged. 'Oh well, he is not a boy, he is just Malfoy. Who really cares about?'

His voice, low, went on:

"… So into
this immensity my thought drowns:
and to shipwreck is sweet in such a sea
."

Both smiled without looking at each other.

"I wouldn't have had to hold you in my arms, before. I would have had to do what I was really longing for. The urge I had from the very first moment I saw you turning pale, on the corridor floor, and it was clear you had put us into trouble with Filch."

"And what exactly?"

"Tickle you to death."

They laughed together.
Well, it was not really the funniest sentence of the world, but somehow it brought them back to a warm kind of intimacy.

He sneered: "This Tower, and the view, this is the thing from Hogwarts I will always remember with pleasure, once free from this place. Maybe even with regret. I hope to remember all this ought I travel with beggars or lords"

She looked at him quizzically.

"It is an old proverb."
He studied her: "But you looked at the view only now, not the last lime. Last Saturday you were only examining your uniform, your hands, and sometimes, you were glancing at me, but the beauty of Nature?... No, I didn't have at all that impression." He was teasing her, without malice.

"Well, my hands, you, even this is Nature," she joked.

"Yes, you are right, I am beautiful."

"Beautiful and humble."

"No, 'modest' doesn't fit me. I am sorry." He was serious; Malfoy pulled one curl of hers.

After a few seconds, Hermione took a big breath: "And I?"

"You what?"

She didn't answer him.

He had a smile "Oh.. you mean beautiful? Do you really care?"

Hermione blushed slightly, but she want on: "So, are you going to answer me, or what?"

Draco: "But I cannot. No one could. And then, what do you mean exactly with "beautiful"? If you mean perfect, a classical beauty, well, you are not silly, and you should spot the right answer on your own, as usual, dear Miss Know-It-All, and it is a "no".
But, maybe, you were thinking about a more animal style sensation?" Hermione winced, Draco sneered "Ok, let's say the capability to arouse interest, mostly pleasure in someone else..."

"You don't distress me, with your fake lack of good manners!"

"Really?" he looked at her lazily, looking for a while exactly like Crookshanks.

"Not at bit."

"Better this way. Better for you. And much better for me. But I'd like to understand why you bother yourself about beauty. You should inquire, instead, about beautiful for whom? Or to do what?"

"I was simply thinking of an objective answer. Possibly detached."

"But this answer could never be objective... Imagine for a while you were beautiful, yes terribly beautiful, for Crabbe. Imagine his wildest dream, we are making an hypothesis, ok?, don't freak out now, but imagine his forbidden fantasy is taking you in the Quidditch dressing-room? Maybe without your consent. Your being unwilling, perhaps, would make you even more beautiful for him. The forbidden of the forbidden. Someone once told me that ruling is much better than fucking."

"Hey"

"Sorry, I'll try to weigh my words... Anyway, the more you whimper and scream, the more you are scared, the more he finds you appealing...
You are beautiful, so you automatically arouse him.
He rubs the right spots, so you obviously like it.
Flesh mechanics, brain mechanics indeed. So simple... but do you believe in this bullshit?
Well, would all this madness do something to you? Knowing his craving would make feel satisfied? Happy? ... Beautiful?"

"I'd feel scared to death. And the whole matter would make me want to vomit!"

"I am sorry..."

"You do not have the right to joke about these subjects!"

"All right, madam."

"You do not have to tell me that's ok. What you said is a momentous thing. It is not something not to take seriously. There is nothing intriguing in this.... perverted shit fantasy!"

"Very well. I apologise formally. By the way, the perverted is for the mention of sex imagery or for the lack of consent?"

"Do you need me to answer you?" she looked at him with commiseration.

"I am sorry I might have offended you. Seriously, I had no intention to."

"The intention of mortifying me expressly would simply crown the whole bloody matter!"

"Oh bloody! Wow, and you are the teachers' pet? Listen Granger, I apologised. But the trouble with you is that to make you listen, and try to understand anything not belonging to your prejudices or principles, it takes a hammer blow on that little brainy head of yours. When you have an idea in that thick skull, you do not see anything else, and you run as fast as an arrow!"

"Don't be silly! And then, this I really would like to know, when did you ever happen to talk with me about any subject?"

"You came to the point! I always had the impression a dialogue with you had the subtle charm only a conversation with deaf people might ever possess. And this is another adage, I have no intention to listen to a SPEW speech adapted for hearing impaired people dignity defence "

"Yes, Malfoy, I really came to the point. You too, you never talked with me! Unless you consider a 'Mudblood!' in a school corridor, a whole, extremely concise, however, conversation..."

"Listen, let's not start a quarrel on nothing. I never talked to you, you are right. And you never talked to me, I am right. And now that we are both right, proud and happy, let's go back to the main subject.
What I was simply meaning is that Crabbe would not be objective about your being beautiful, because you are not beautiful, not the way he might mean this word. By the way, I think no one is "that" beautiful, frankly.
I only wanted you to understand from your guts that being "beautiful" for Crabbe, with the consequences he is harbouring in his mind, probably is not so appealing to you. I could bet you are not interested in this compliment. You can easily do without Crabbe's beautiful's. They have no value.
More over: his beautiful would make you choke.... odd isn't it? And your reaction too, my so rational Ms Granger, is not detached at all."

Hermione snorted.

He went on : "Your question is one of those no one could answer objectively, and you don't have to ask this question lightly.
There could be more than one guy, ready to meow you are beautiful, you are a fairy queen, you are a star. But what does he mean with beautiful? Beautiful like a good book you like to read again sometimes, forgetting anything else. Beautiful like a slice of cake, eaten and forgotten forever ? An what's his purpose? Maybe only loosing in a much easier the way, the so many knots between him, and... well you know it. If I'd pronounce the exact word flickering in my brain, you'd state I am gross."

Hermione sneered.

He went on: "Or you could find someone less material. Who could adore you and expose you in his personal show-case. So nice, midget Granger, under security glass, to protect her from air, exposed near a Quidditch Cup, a Golden Snitch, an autograph from a star. What more could you ever claim? He will tell you, you are beautiful. He would state he would do anything for you, and you, his mate, what a honour, you could not exact anything more. A fair exchange for someone I may imagine. A reassurance on your so called beauty-power, and you take the path someone else choose for you, whatever might be. Great power indeed..."

She had the sensation he was talking to her, surely, but to someone else too. An echo of the past? Maybe a beautiful and silly girl? She wondered a bit, but after a couple of minutes Malfoy left his train of thoughts and went back to her.

"Beautiful." He smirked "Beauty is in the brain of the one who looks. Not something to bargain with something important."

He caressed her hair, "You know what was... endearing in the library, while you were looking yourself in the mirror of the pane?"

She shook her head.

"Your rejoice at what you were seeing."

She blushed.

"It was really endearing, I liked the way you liked what you were seeing, The approval, the pride, the disregard as well: you weren't taking yourself too seriously about the beauty issue. I dislike women always looking for flaws in a mirror. You were funny, anyway."

"How long had you been spying me?" she was suddenly suspicious.

The boy drawled, "Asking whether you are beautiful is not safe. You should ask only someone you are really interested in. And with open eyes. Or to someone whose opinion intrigues you, and you cant make out. All other people have no value. And your own opinion, well ..."

She looked at him, defiant: "Very well, I am not stupid, and I understand what you mean..."

He nodded.

She went on: "But now I am in front of you, and I am asking you.
I am curious. And, if all the gossips in the girls' bedrooms are right, your opinion, would be interesting". She was just asking out of spite. Oh yes, what he had been telling her was clear to her. It was something she had pondered in her brain, just a couple of weeks before. While she was asking herself was a good girl was like. Good to herself mainly, of course. She felt a sting of pain, so good to herself not to voice her "no" or her dislikes. To an enemy. And to a friend. Even.
But she did not want to admit anything of this crap in front of him.

He looked at her amused: "And, you need to ask me expressly? I do not need to ask you about myself. I had a quite precise idea about this matter, and a ... "hitting" perception of the limits, and of the implied trust. I do not need to ask you anything. Not explicit, at least."

She reddened.

"Anyway if you insist you are not that bad."