Disclaimer: well, in the other 7 chapters the characters were from JKR.
Nothing changed for chapter 8.
Not betaed, my fault, till chapter 4 thery are brushed, betaed and properly formatted (you can check ;P)
Thanks: marley as always. She thought this could be a good story !
To the reviewers. Especially to the so many of chapter 7 !
---------- FOUR SATURDAYS DETENTION ----------
Chapter 8 - Third Saturday
Price tags, hidden tracks, sense of justice, and her opinion
"Oh, just listen to the utterly good-mannered Slytherin!"
"No, I am not utterly good-mannered, even if, surely, I am a Slytherin.
And that answer of mine, whether you like it or not, is the only explicit answer you will have from me for such a silly question!
Especially because you should have, already, all the answers you need, my so intelligent Gryffindor squirrel. Unless you are unable to understand what is not written in a book. It is a pity life doesn't have footnotes, isn't it?
And I am under the impression this is exactly the only answer you deserve, seen this is the perfect answer for someone who goes around looking for approval. my approval, by way. Why would you ever care, after so many years of blatant contempt?"
He raised an eyebrow, but she stayed there, giving him a very innocent glance.
Draco smiled amused, and went on, softly: "By the way, speaking of approvals. what effects do all those A's have on you? All that work for a simple letter. Was it worth? I have always wanted to ask you."
But Hermione suddenly got lost in her thoughts, looking at the landscape. There was something she really wanted to ask him, but she didn't want at all to take their usual discussion path. After so many smooth and sharp moments, this Saturday eventually appeared flooding quietly, well quietly as possible, at least with no sarcasm between themselves. And, slowly, it was going to end. Their last Saturday but one.
Thoughtful, she shrugged, without looking at him, then: "I checked your marks, Malfoy."
"Oh, you gave a look at the price tag? I imagine this is your way of judging, seen you do not understand a damn about Quidditch. Otherwise you would have ventured yourself checking my statistics.
I do not care to mention my Gringott bank account: you drool after Ron Tagalong, and that settles the matter about money." But his voice was not dripped with sarcasm. Probably he neither wanted to spoil farther this Saturday. In his words you could detect surprise. And, maybe, really maybe, because Hermione was not able to understand him well, well, maybe she could taste a bit of. delusion?
"No," Hermione answered, "it was simply because of all that fuss you did about the prefect affair: I thought only Professor McGonagall knew about my decision. I didn't talk about this subject with anybody. And I thought that, maybe, if you knew everything, it was simply because she had "chatted" about this matter with you, and then."
"If I knew what, exactly? That you gave up? Or the reasons why?"
"Oh, no, nobody knows my reasons."
"Nobody?" his voice was fake innocent.
"Well," she looked at him inquiring, then "How did you know?"
"I do not know your reasons, Granger. I can't read your mind. Neither I wish to, believe me.
But certain things were not difficult to understand, if you wanted to understand them, of course." He toyed with a lock of her hair. Gently.
"Was it so obvious?"
"What exactly? That you do not have many friends? That you are really fond of the so few you have? That you value and you care a lot of their approval? More than it would be right? Blatantly more than they value yours one? Even yourself? But you feel so isolated you accept everything without imposing limits? Or, maybe that you have a bruising crush on one of them?"
"Hit. Hit and sunk." Only a week ago she would have burst out crying for such a brutal row of sentences. But now she was not crying at all. Maybe it was because he was stroking her hair so sweetly, just like she was used to coddle Crookshanks, even reassuring, she would have dared say if the boy wasn't Malfoy. Maybe because there was no harshness in his voice. Maybe.
Whatever might be the real reason, what was sure was that, this time, she had no intention to cry for Malfoy. Or for herself.
He gently went on: "So, what dreadful secret did you discover rummaging where you shouldn't?"
"That you could be a prefect too. This year. Maybe last year as well, this I didn't check, but I have my suspicions." She smiled.
"Hmmm."
"Why not?"
"What do you mean exactly with 'why not?'? Why didn't I wag my tail, highly honoured, thanking everyone for the wonderful privilege? Or why didn't I shed my tears, overwhelmed by the emotion?"
"Is it possible for you not to behave like a little bastard? Not every time, I understand it would be asking you too much. Just some of the times?" She was mocking him.
She looked at him, tense, but no sparks were flying: he seemed relaxed. She relaxed as well.
"Yes, I think just some times could be possible. But you should not behave like a pretentious Top of the Class."
He looked at her, attentively, but neither this time sparks were flying. She simply showed him her tongue.
Both smiled.
"Ok, Granger, the whole truth is that I am not interested at all into wandering through the school corridors, looking for preys. I have no crave for rousing those who want to do their innocent mistakes. Or those who want to vent their instincts, feigning to call them "love".
And it would not be serious. What should I do, now, for instance? Kiss you, and, meanwhile, take 10 points from Slytherin and Gryffindor?"
She could not help a little smile.
Draco went on, teasing her "Well, I would be pleased to take 10 points from Gryffindor, frankly. In a month, a month and a half, a very interesting Quidditch match is planned. And I am really curious to see exactly how your Harry's new team wriggles out of it.
The whole Slytherin House would be delighted to do an interesting bet with old Albus Dumbledore."
"The whole Slytherin House. Really!"
"Oh yes, the whole Slytherin House."
"And what would you ever bet?"
"Hmm. the simple opportunity to organise a party, that would be the basic idea. Just a simple Slytherin feast, of course all the others students would be invited, we are not bad-mannered savages. but it would be a Slytherin old feast."
"The simple idea of a Slytherin feast could make me quiver."
"You can always ignore the invitation, of course."
Hermione looked straight into his eyes: "Ok, Slytherin little guy, let's stop this nonsense. I was speaking seriously to you."
"Alright. Accepting to become a prefect I would be just a hypocrite. There are certain nights, when all you are able to think about is to slink into an old unguarded tower, by night.
All you want is to find the girl you were daydreaming; a delicious morsel, like an apple, and as longing as you are.
The wish of making noise, the strange taste of whispers. You trespass the border of the silence of things you accidentally do not say, and drown in the silence of the things willingly kept unsaid.
The warmth of your bodies, and the cold of the night.
The smell of the season coming from outside, and her smell on me, mixing with mine own smell, changing it. in a so perceptible way, perceptible to me. And surprising.
You discover the hidden track of her desires, your voiceless laughs.
Somehow it is like discovering the integral version of a book you always liked.
Breathtaking.
You are blushing, Granger, do not hold your breath, it could hurt you!"
She punched him, lightly on a shoulder; he smiled: "At a certain moment, there is a glimpse, from that point on, there is nothing left to explain, you just need to feel it.
At the end. You violated 2 or 3 little rules, that could make you expelled. and the morning after, some times just few hours later. you should punish the first years, who are making din out of a classroom.
Please.
It is psychotic.
A lot of Hogwarts life is too tight for me. I find it hard, being controlled every moment of the day, with no break. Quite everything you do, you must do it with someone else, sleep, dream, wash, eat, study, fly. name an activity, and probably you must do it sharing your space with someone else. And not always with someone you like.
And quite always with someone in charge of controlling you. Even in the library, the den of the quietest people, you have Miss Pince looking at everybody like a falcon.
You cannot go wherever you want, you have to ask permissions for everything. It is like being the host of a luxurious prison.
And, of course, you have ton of rules. Unluckily they are very different from those I would be forced to follow at home. And often they got no sense, at least to me.
Sometimes I break their rules. For my own sake.
But if I allow myself this right, with what sense of justice could I exact the absolute respect for more simple rules, surely useful rules, from other people?
And, most important, I have no gain in all this little preys hunting, because, unless they kill each other and there are cases where it would be disturbing, I admit it, I have no interesting gain in young students being controlled every single second.
Everything is much more entertaining, as it is now.
The marks you spied upon, well, I had them for myself.
For the subjects I like, and for the subjects that will become an advantage for me, in the future.
Not for the generic approval of people, maybe, I neither respect.
If the school did wanted to pat my shoulder, the school could choose something better than award me the honour of becoming a doorkeeper and a baby-sitter.
"Becoming a prefect is supposed to be an honour. You can do other things beside make the youngster follow certain rules . you can help, you can propose little changes," she was not supercilious at all, she was calm. She had believed in those things. Most important: she was still believing in them.
There were so many ideas she would have liked to put into practice.
But some people could see only one thing in a prefect: the hated power to pester other people.
She felt slightly angry. Perhaps of all the things she put herself into, this year, the real bullshit were not these Slytherinish Saturdays with Malfoy.
Perhaps the real blunder had been her visit to Professor McGonagall, claiming she had not enough time for her studies to be a prefect.
How could she have renounced? And for whose approval?
She stiffened. No, this she could not accept at all: she had no wish to follow the same mental paths as Malfoy. At least, about this she was sure.
But, yet, she wondered: whose approval?
Malfoy, shrugged his shoulders: "If someone regards this madness as an honour, much better for him; or her. Declan valued it. Declan became a prefect, in my place. He had what he wished, he is satisfied, and, incidentally, he is in debt with me.
As for myself, I go wherever I want, being sure nobody will search for me in order to pester me. Kind of immunity.
I had what I wished, I am satisfied, and, incidentally, I am not in debt with anybody."
"And Professor McGonagall?"
"And Professor McGonagall what? The iron old maid, had the number of prefects she had planned. Declan would suit her more than my humble person, by the way. I think she is satisfied. "
"Ouff, I meant, what did Professor McGonagall tell you?"
"Well I did not expose her my reasons the same way I am speaking with you, Granger, I am not a masochist. But she burst out with 'first Hermione, then Malfoy!' So she told me that you had given up your task. She was sincerely worried for you. And upset, very upset. Otherwise, she would have never chattered with ME, about her precious Miss Granger.
I was really impressed, by the way, she has really a soft spot for you, it is not a backbiting."
"I am not the teachers' pet!"
"No, no, I know you are a true outspoken and annoying Miss Know-It-All. There are other Misses Know-It-All all other Hogwarts, of course, but you are the queen of them all. Believe me. If the school would ever organise a "Miss" contest, you'd win the title of "Miss Know-It-All" at once. "Miss Know-It-All" and "Miss Disdainful I-Am-Always-Right"."
"Maybe it is much better than "Mister Arrogant Bastard"."
"Maybe. Anyway, you are not the usual teacher's pet, and I am sure McGonagall would never do anything against the rules to help you, but she really cares.
Anyway, having the news of your deception from first hand, all the other things were not so difficult to infer."
"And, other people. did they .. infer . the reasons?"
"Do you care? People from Gryffindor I do not know. If I can, I dodge them."
"Slytherin? It was the best joke of the month for your, I guess." Her voice sounded bitter.
"Oh! We are proud, aren't we?", he lifted her chin gently. She gave him a frail smile.
He went on: "I did not talk about your personal decisions with the people I know. They are your own affair. Besides. the news will spread on very soon.
About the reasons, well, Declan, yes Declan had imagined something about you. But I think you are difficult to understand, for him."
She blushed. "Why?"
"You could not understand."
"Oh, yes, you are right, I am notoriously stupid."
"Yes, sometimes you are."
"I beg your pardon, when exactly Master Malfoy?"
"When you ask something that has nothing to share with your notorious ability to collect A's."
"Then, what's that about? I cannot understand Declan. or better I cannot understand what Declan fails to understand, why? Because he is a Slytherin?
Well, in this case I'd say there is not too much I could find valuable to understand. The House of the. snake is not at all at the centre of my thought?"
"Mudblood." There was no contempt, neither sarcasm, he was simply amused.
"Pureblood!"
"Yes, you are right, Pureblood. Unluckily you do not know what this means."
"I know it very well, instead. It is feeling superior to anybody else because of an accidental circumstance as birth."
"Wrong answer, my darling. It is a matter of culture. It is tradition. It is part of the building of your own personality, and identity. It is even an intellectual support you can claim in your most difficult hours. It is the capability of never feeling alone."
"I imagine that, in order to never feel alone, the torture of Muggles and Muggleborns is indispensable. Oh, but I was so stupid not to understand. you generally do it gathered in groups. It must have a specific social function. What's the right word? A sociality ritual?"
The following silence was heavy. For both the students.
'He deserved it!' thought Hermione, but she was not happy.
Draco had a tired gesture with his hand. Sometimes he looked older than his age, but it was not easy to place when exactly this bend in his character had appeared.
"Listen, Granger, I do not want to quarrel with you again. It is Saturday, And it was a Saturday with a lot of pleasant moments. I am not able now to chat with you about Death Eater rituals, whatever they might be. Please. Anyway, speaking about this does not bring us anywhere."
She nodded slowly, she was feeling tired, inside, as well.
Draco went on: "But why do you consider being a prefect an honour? I am simply curious.
Are you thinking about your future family? It is a concealed maternity desire? Or you want to train yourself for your 6 or 7 ginger headed Weasley children? This is what you are thinking about? How to learn as quick as possible the way to cope with a bunch a little monsters, always needing you for the simplest things, while you try to learn your usually perfect charms for your future perfect job? I can have a perfect mental picture of Weasel, going to a Quidditch match, and leaving you at home to look after the children. His mother was so happy this way, a housewife, her family was her realisation, why wouldn't you feel realised as well?
Or you are thinking of Harry and of your future only child? I cannot see Harry as a father, anyway. or maybe he is the perfect husband and father for a woman who wants to do everything on her own. at least that's what I figure out when I think of the two of you together, the Invisible Husband and She-Captain Nemo!"
"NO! And, stop treating my life as a library bookshelf! You cannot rummage and pick up randomly!" She was cold. Cold and terribly angry.
After a while, he grazed her arm.
"Hush, please, soften, midget Granger, sweeten a bit. I didn't expect you to snap this way. I am sorry, there was no need to be so rough. Not with you, at least."
She gave him a defiant look, but he seemed serious. She shrugged "If this is the best apology you can do, well you should train yourself with apologies a lot more."
"Ok, I'll write this on my timetable. Maybe I could find a little spare time after Transfiguration and before Magical Creatures."
"You are not improving your situation doing the clown."
"Ok, I am sorry. I apology formally. And I promise I will not speak anymore, well, anymore at least for today, about your sweetheart and his best friend. Whoever of the two he might be."
"Better for you. Next time I'll hex you. And you will need Madame Pomfrey's best tricks to recollect yourself!"
"Ok, I have recognised the subtle message.
Anyway, I was speaking seriously, I promise I will not burst out laughing, whatever you might say. I'd like to know your opinions. Really."
She hesitated.
His fingers were still caressing her arm.
That graze was the only skin contact they had had after. well, after "that".
She felt out of breath thinking about "that". she had never. with anyone. and then the fear, well of course she didn't really trust him. And of course he had understood the... "implied trust", but.
No, everything had been simply wrong. She did not want to close her eyes and imagine something silly, just to justify herself to herself.
But now, there was nothing sensual in the touch of his fingers, it was just, maybe, the wish of a "contact".
He was still silent looking at her, expectantly.
She flattened on the wall, her arms around her legs. "You won't like everything I might say."
"You are asking my permission to insult me? I had the impression you never needed it."
She smiled. "I do not think you will feel insulted, and, I promise, I will not mention the Death Eaters anymore, anymore for today, at least, but. ok Malfoy, as you like it."
Not betaed, my fault, till chapter 4 thery are brushed, betaed and properly formatted (you can check ;P)
Thanks: marley as always. She thought this could be a good story !
To the reviewers. Especially to the so many of chapter 7 !
---------- FOUR SATURDAYS DETENTION ----------
Chapter 8 - Third Saturday
Price tags, hidden tracks, sense of justice, and her opinion
"Oh, just listen to the utterly good-mannered Slytherin!"
"No, I am not utterly good-mannered, even if, surely, I am a Slytherin.
And that answer of mine, whether you like it or not, is the only explicit answer you will have from me for such a silly question!
Especially because you should have, already, all the answers you need, my so intelligent Gryffindor squirrel. Unless you are unable to understand what is not written in a book. It is a pity life doesn't have footnotes, isn't it?
And I am under the impression this is exactly the only answer you deserve, seen this is the perfect answer for someone who goes around looking for approval. my approval, by way. Why would you ever care, after so many years of blatant contempt?"
He raised an eyebrow, but she stayed there, giving him a very innocent glance.
Draco smiled amused, and went on, softly: "By the way, speaking of approvals. what effects do all those A's have on you? All that work for a simple letter. Was it worth? I have always wanted to ask you."
But Hermione suddenly got lost in her thoughts, looking at the landscape. There was something she really wanted to ask him, but she didn't want at all to take their usual discussion path. After so many smooth and sharp moments, this Saturday eventually appeared flooding quietly, well quietly as possible, at least with no sarcasm between themselves. And, slowly, it was going to end. Their last Saturday but one.
Thoughtful, she shrugged, without looking at him, then: "I checked your marks, Malfoy."
"Oh, you gave a look at the price tag? I imagine this is your way of judging, seen you do not understand a damn about Quidditch. Otherwise you would have ventured yourself checking my statistics.
I do not care to mention my Gringott bank account: you drool after Ron Tagalong, and that settles the matter about money." But his voice was not dripped with sarcasm. Probably he neither wanted to spoil farther this Saturday. In his words you could detect surprise. And, maybe, really maybe, because Hermione was not able to understand him well, well, maybe she could taste a bit of. delusion?
"No," Hermione answered, "it was simply because of all that fuss you did about the prefect affair: I thought only Professor McGonagall knew about my decision. I didn't talk about this subject with anybody. And I thought that, maybe, if you knew everything, it was simply because she had "chatted" about this matter with you, and then."
"If I knew what, exactly? That you gave up? Or the reasons why?"
"Oh, no, nobody knows my reasons."
"Nobody?" his voice was fake innocent.
"Well," she looked at him inquiring, then "How did you know?"
"I do not know your reasons, Granger. I can't read your mind. Neither I wish to, believe me.
But certain things were not difficult to understand, if you wanted to understand them, of course." He toyed with a lock of her hair. Gently.
"Was it so obvious?"
"What exactly? That you do not have many friends? That you are really fond of the so few you have? That you value and you care a lot of their approval? More than it would be right? Blatantly more than they value yours one? Even yourself? But you feel so isolated you accept everything without imposing limits? Or, maybe that you have a bruising crush on one of them?"
"Hit. Hit and sunk." Only a week ago she would have burst out crying for such a brutal row of sentences. But now she was not crying at all. Maybe it was because he was stroking her hair so sweetly, just like she was used to coddle Crookshanks, even reassuring, she would have dared say if the boy wasn't Malfoy. Maybe because there was no harshness in his voice. Maybe.
Whatever might be the real reason, what was sure was that, this time, she had no intention to cry for Malfoy. Or for herself.
He gently went on: "So, what dreadful secret did you discover rummaging where you shouldn't?"
"That you could be a prefect too. This year. Maybe last year as well, this I didn't check, but I have my suspicions." She smiled.
"Hmmm."
"Why not?"
"What do you mean exactly with 'why not?'? Why didn't I wag my tail, highly honoured, thanking everyone for the wonderful privilege? Or why didn't I shed my tears, overwhelmed by the emotion?"
"Is it possible for you not to behave like a little bastard? Not every time, I understand it would be asking you too much. Just some of the times?" She was mocking him.
She looked at him, tense, but no sparks were flying: he seemed relaxed. She relaxed as well.
"Yes, I think just some times could be possible. But you should not behave like a pretentious Top of the Class."
He looked at her, attentively, but neither this time sparks were flying. She simply showed him her tongue.
Both smiled.
"Ok, Granger, the whole truth is that I am not interested at all into wandering through the school corridors, looking for preys. I have no crave for rousing those who want to do their innocent mistakes. Or those who want to vent their instincts, feigning to call them "love".
And it would not be serious. What should I do, now, for instance? Kiss you, and, meanwhile, take 10 points from Slytherin and Gryffindor?"
She could not help a little smile.
Draco went on, teasing her "Well, I would be pleased to take 10 points from Gryffindor, frankly. In a month, a month and a half, a very interesting Quidditch match is planned. And I am really curious to see exactly how your Harry's new team wriggles out of it.
The whole Slytherin House would be delighted to do an interesting bet with old Albus Dumbledore."
"The whole Slytherin House. Really!"
"Oh yes, the whole Slytherin House."
"And what would you ever bet?"
"Hmm. the simple opportunity to organise a party, that would be the basic idea. Just a simple Slytherin feast, of course all the others students would be invited, we are not bad-mannered savages. but it would be a Slytherin old feast."
"The simple idea of a Slytherin feast could make me quiver."
"You can always ignore the invitation, of course."
Hermione looked straight into his eyes: "Ok, Slytherin little guy, let's stop this nonsense. I was speaking seriously to you."
"Alright. Accepting to become a prefect I would be just a hypocrite. There are certain nights, when all you are able to think about is to slink into an old unguarded tower, by night.
All you want is to find the girl you were daydreaming; a delicious morsel, like an apple, and as longing as you are.
The wish of making noise, the strange taste of whispers. You trespass the border of the silence of things you accidentally do not say, and drown in the silence of the things willingly kept unsaid.
The warmth of your bodies, and the cold of the night.
The smell of the season coming from outside, and her smell on me, mixing with mine own smell, changing it. in a so perceptible way, perceptible to me. And surprising.
You discover the hidden track of her desires, your voiceless laughs.
Somehow it is like discovering the integral version of a book you always liked.
Breathtaking.
You are blushing, Granger, do not hold your breath, it could hurt you!"
She punched him, lightly on a shoulder; he smiled: "At a certain moment, there is a glimpse, from that point on, there is nothing left to explain, you just need to feel it.
At the end. You violated 2 or 3 little rules, that could make you expelled. and the morning after, some times just few hours later. you should punish the first years, who are making din out of a classroom.
Please.
It is psychotic.
A lot of Hogwarts life is too tight for me. I find it hard, being controlled every moment of the day, with no break. Quite everything you do, you must do it with someone else, sleep, dream, wash, eat, study, fly. name an activity, and probably you must do it sharing your space with someone else. And not always with someone you like.
And quite always with someone in charge of controlling you. Even in the library, the den of the quietest people, you have Miss Pince looking at everybody like a falcon.
You cannot go wherever you want, you have to ask permissions for everything. It is like being the host of a luxurious prison.
And, of course, you have ton of rules. Unluckily they are very different from those I would be forced to follow at home. And often they got no sense, at least to me.
Sometimes I break their rules. For my own sake.
But if I allow myself this right, with what sense of justice could I exact the absolute respect for more simple rules, surely useful rules, from other people?
And, most important, I have no gain in all this little preys hunting, because, unless they kill each other and there are cases where it would be disturbing, I admit it, I have no interesting gain in young students being controlled every single second.
Everything is much more entertaining, as it is now.
The marks you spied upon, well, I had them for myself.
For the subjects I like, and for the subjects that will become an advantage for me, in the future.
Not for the generic approval of people, maybe, I neither respect.
If the school did wanted to pat my shoulder, the school could choose something better than award me the honour of becoming a doorkeeper and a baby-sitter.
"Becoming a prefect is supposed to be an honour. You can do other things beside make the youngster follow certain rules . you can help, you can propose little changes," she was not supercilious at all, she was calm. She had believed in those things. Most important: she was still believing in them.
There were so many ideas she would have liked to put into practice.
But some people could see only one thing in a prefect: the hated power to pester other people.
She felt slightly angry. Perhaps of all the things she put herself into, this year, the real bullshit were not these Slytherinish Saturdays with Malfoy.
Perhaps the real blunder had been her visit to Professor McGonagall, claiming she had not enough time for her studies to be a prefect.
How could she have renounced? And for whose approval?
She stiffened. No, this she could not accept at all: she had no wish to follow the same mental paths as Malfoy. At least, about this she was sure.
But, yet, she wondered: whose approval?
Malfoy, shrugged his shoulders: "If someone regards this madness as an honour, much better for him; or her. Declan valued it. Declan became a prefect, in my place. He had what he wished, he is satisfied, and, incidentally, he is in debt with me.
As for myself, I go wherever I want, being sure nobody will search for me in order to pester me. Kind of immunity.
I had what I wished, I am satisfied, and, incidentally, I am not in debt with anybody."
"And Professor McGonagall?"
"And Professor McGonagall what? The iron old maid, had the number of prefects she had planned. Declan would suit her more than my humble person, by the way. I think she is satisfied. "
"Ouff, I meant, what did Professor McGonagall tell you?"
"Well I did not expose her my reasons the same way I am speaking with you, Granger, I am not a masochist. But she burst out with 'first Hermione, then Malfoy!' So she told me that you had given up your task. She was sincerely worried for you. And upset, very upset. Otherwise, she would have never chattered with ME, about her precious Miss Granger.
I was really impressed, by the way, she has really a soft spot for you, it is not a backbiting."
"I am not the teachers' pet!"
"No, no, I know you are a true outspoken and annoying Miss Know-It-All. There are other Misses Know-It-All all other Hogwarts, of course, but you are the queen of them all. Believe me. If the school would ever organise a "Miss" contest, you'd win the title of "Miss Know-It-All" at once. "Miss Know-It-All" and "Miss Disdainful I-Am-Always-Right"."
"Maybe it is much better than "Mister Arrogant Bastard"."
"Maybe. Anyway, you are not the usual teacher's pet, and I am sure McGonagall would never do anything against the rules to help you, but she really cares.
Anyway, having the news of your deception from first hand, all the other things were not so difficult to infer."
"And, other people. did they .. infer . the reasons?"
"Do you care? People from Gryffindor I do not know. If I can, I dodge them."
"Slytherin? It was the best joke of the month for your, I guess." Her voice sounded bitter.
"Oh! We are proud, aren't we?", he lifted her chin gently. She gave him a frail smile.
He went on: "I did not talk about your personal decisions with the people I know. They are your own affair. Besides. the news will spread on very soon.
About the reasons, well, Declan, yes Declan had imagined something about you. But I think you are difficult to understand, for him."
She blushed. "Why?"
"You could not understand."
"Oh, yes, you are right, I am notoriously stupid."
"Yes, sometimes you are."
"I beg your pardon, when exactly Master Malfoy?"
"When you ask something that has nothing to share with your notorious ability to collect A's."
"Then, what's that about? I cannot understand Declan. or better I cannot understand what Declan fails to understand, why? Because he is a Slytherin?
Well, in this case I'd say there is not too much I could find valuable to understand. The House of the. snake is not at all at the centre of my thought?"
"Mudblood." There was no contempt, neither sarcasm, he was simply amused.
"Pureblood!"
"Yes, you are right, Pureblood. Unluckily you do not know what this means."
"I know it very well, instead. It is feeling superior to anybody else because of an accidental circumstance as birth."
"Wrong answer, my darling. It is a matter of culture. It is tradition. It is part of the building of your own personality, and identity. It is even an intellectual support you can claim in your most difficult hours. It is the capability of never feeling alone."
"I imagine that, in order to never feel alone, the torture of Muggles and Muggleborns is indispensable. Oh, but I was so stupid not to understand. you generally do it gathered in groups. It must have a specific social function. What's the right word? A sociality ritual?"
The following silence was heavy. For both the students.
'He deserved it!' thought Hermione, but she was not happy.
Draco had a tired gesture with his hand. Sometimes he looked older than his age, but it was not easy to place when exactly this bend in his character had appeared.
"Listen, Granger, I do not want to quarrel with you again. It is Saturday, And it was a Saturday with a lot of pleasant moments. I am not able now to chat with you about Death Eater rituals, whatever they might be. Please. Anyway, speaking about this does not bring us anywhere."
She nodded slowly, she was feeling tired, inside, as well.
Draco went on: "But why do you consider being a prefect an honour? I am simply curious.
Are you thinking about your future family? It is a concealed maternity desire? Or you want to train yourself for your 6 or 7 ginger headed Weasley children? This is what you are thinking about? How to learn as quick as possible the way to cope with a bunch a little monsters, always needing you for the simplest things, while you try to learn your usually perfect charms for your future perfect job? I can have a perfect mental picture of Weasel, going to a Quidditch match, and leaving you at home to look after the children. His mother was so happy this way, a housewife, her family was her realisation, why wouldn't you feel realised as well?
Or you are thinking of Harry and of your future only child? I cannot see Harry as a father, anyway. or maybe he is the perfect husband and father for a woman who wants to do everything on her own. at least that's what I figure out when I think of the two of you together, the Invisible Husband and She-Captain Nemo!"
"NO! And, stop treating my life as a library bookshelf! You cannot rummage and pick up randomly!" She was cold. Cold and terribly angry.
After a while, he grazed her arm.
"Hush, please, soften, midget Granger, sweeten a bit. I didn't expect you to snap this way. I am sorry, there was no need to be so rough. Not with you, at least."
She gave him a defiant look, but he seemed serious. She shrugged "If this is the best apology you can do, well you should train yourself with apologies a lot more."
"Ok, I'll write this on my timetable. Maybe I could find a little spare time after Transfiguration and before Magical Creatures."
"You are not improving your situation doing the clown."
"Ok, I am sorry. I apology formally. And I promise I will not speak anymore, well, anymore at least for today, about your sweetheart and his best friend. Whoever of the two he might be."
"Better for you. Next time I'll hex you. And you will need Madame Pomfrey's best tricks to recollect yourself!"
"Ok, I have recognised the subtle message.
Anyway, I was speaking seriously, I promise I will not burst out laughing, whatever you might say. I'd like to know your opinions. Really."
She hesitated.
His fingers were still caressing her arm.
That graze was the only skin contact they had had after. well, after "that".
She felt out of breath thinking about "that". she had never. with anyone. and then the fear, well of course she didn't really trust him. And of course he had understood the... "implied trust", but.
No, everything had been simply wrong. She did not want to close her eyes and imagine something silly, just to justify herself to herself.
But now, there was nothing sensual in the touch of his fingers, it was just, maybe, the wish of a "contact".
He was still silent looking at her, expectantly.
She flattened on the wall, her arms around her legs. "You won't like everything I might say."
"You are asking my permission to insult me? I had the impression you never needed it."
She smiled. "I do not think you will feel insulted, and, I promise, I will not mention the Death Eaters anymore, anymore for today, at least, but. ok Malfoy, as you like it."
