--------- FOUR SATURDAYS DETENTION ----------
Chapter 11 - Third Saturday

Gunning down her smile
Malfoy kept toying with her curls.

The sunset, playing with their reflex enhanced everything reddish in her hair. A ruffled waterfall of orange marmalade, and cinnamon was flaming down her back. The locks were standing out against the black uniform, gaining a different light under the moves of his slender fingers.

Suddenly she didn't find her robe unappealing. Oh, not at all. Bookwormish, yes, maybe, not exactly elegant, but, at the same moment, why not?

It was so funny to discover the kind of pleasure she was able to give not doing anything at all, for once. Just talking and being there.

Just being Hermione?

When Draco gently brushed away a lock from her forehead Hermione wondered: how was it that she hadn't concisely noticed the very moment he went nearer? The second his fingers got tangled into her hair?

Maybe, and she held a smile, maybe he had lost his well-known Malfoy charm.

or was the whole matter becoming just a habit?

It felt so good to feel someone enjoy her hair softness, at last, even if, she thought, even if the boy was Malfoy, but strangely she was feeling no thrill, just sheltered.

Was this his purpose or just her brain?

"The gift of a whole world..." the boy was mumbling pensively, "and the purpose? Building a brand new society for all of us, with no exception... this is what you mean, am I right?"

Hermione nodded.

"My first impulse would be to tell you that school instruction can't be a thorough therapeutically treatment whose purpose is people standardisation.

An eyewink, a couple of gentle words, and suddenly we are effortlessly driven to be the perfect citizens of a specific society. The best of all the possible societies, of course.

These ideas you talk about so lyrically, these ideas are a tad dangerous: can't you smell the brainwashing blend?

The first step is always that you are the depositary of the truth, a revealed truth, and the final theory explaining everything; of course you know what is good for the society! How could it be otherwise?

But one of the final steps could be using violence to mark your personal belief into every innocent being's brain. Violence or moral intimidation, or declaring mad, mentally unbalanced those disagreeing with your perfect solution. I guess it depends on your personal soft spots."

The glance Hermione shot him was unreadable.

"Yes, I know you sincerely believe in what you say, I am not implying anything against you, personally." Malfoy added calmly, "Altogether you are a Gryffindor."

He looked at her closely, "I didn't notice this before, but you look like Declan: always after bullshits without any sensible goal."

Hermione looked back into his eyes quietly: "Maybe my thoughts are dragon dung, but they are much better than thinking about yourself and other mean rubbish. Your thoughts about prefects, just to make an example, they do are really reductive... that's what irked me while you were speaking."

The boy didn't grow angry, and the girl felt relieved, the tortuous Saturday had not yet blown out into their faces, and she didn't want this to happen at all.

The boy chuckled, but with no hint of mock. He slowly caressed her cheek with his fingertips.

Hermione dropped her glance, she had never imagined that Malfoy could have such a gentle touch; she had always assumed he was the kind of boy with a very romantic style, all bruising kisses, ravaging lips and roaming hands.

'I was wrong. a caring lover, just heartless out of his bed, of course.'

She suddenly blushed, what the hell was she thinking about? She put a bit more distance between herself and the boy.

Malfoy observed her carefully, then crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the rocky walls of the Tower. "No, I can't agree with you, my personal points of view aren't reductive at all, they are simply very different from yours.

Being a prefect isn't something you suddenly decide to be, you don't have to fill a form; this school tells you that becoming a prefect is not something you can ask politely, or whine about, the rules are different: it's a privilege offered to a very good student as an award for the very good results. Am I wrong?"

"No, I reckon you are not wrong."

"Well an award, in my humble opinion, in order to be a true reward should please myself and my humble person. And my humble person can't get any satisfaction out of the whole prefect affair. I'd rather wish Dumbledore would tell me 'Dear Draco Malfoy, We noticed that this year you had very good marks, and We appreciated the efforts you put into your goals.

For this reason We decided you will be awarded the honour to clean the boys' bathroom using your personal toothbrush, and no wand, of course.

We expect you to perform this peculiar and useless task every Wednesday evening. Have fun.'"

Hermione couldn't stop giggling, Malfoy was a perfect Dumbledore, a vignette of the wise old Headmaster done without lack of respect "Go on Malfoy, you are priceless."

"Well I find the first year kids disgusting, a brat pack."

"Oh yes, I understand perfectly what you mean" she grinned playfully, "Your humble person is the ultimate standard of value, not so egoistical as I suspect, maybe, but surely an individualist who likes to walk out of the crowd."

"And you, my darling Granger you are an annoyingly collectivist, whose ultimate standard of value is the people, an abstract entity.

I understand you better than I thought it could ever be possible: you don't want a prize rewarding the individual, you want a prize whose goal is to insert this same individual much better into the society he belongs to.

Hermione smiled to him: "Perfect! Exactly what I would have liked to tell you! It's so astounding to discover we agree so well about what we disagree about."

"Well dear little squirrel, individualism is not loathsome."

"No, it isn't, a single individualist brings no harm. But think of a society made of self-centred egoist individuals, with no social conscience. Would you like it? A society good for sociopath, but for normal people?"

"You say so, because you think that only a "do-goodies" society can warrant social solidarity! But this way you are erasing the individual, his strength, and his true beauty. 'Deinos o anthropos' terrible great thing is the man."

"You are extremist, as usual, but I think you should agree with me: a society glorifying individual pulses is a society that will easily slip into a "wolves society", homo homini lupus, the man acts like a wolf towards another man. Seen you like so much quotations."

He had a smile: the girl's brain worked well, as usual.

"Well, but have you ever thought that a society always insisting into being good, gentle, solider slips into continuous censorship? And dullness as well!

By the way, did you notice the most of discoveries, that are mostly improvements of life quality for most of the people, or art masterpieces, or novels, well all these products are individual achievements? It's quite impossible to find a poetry written by twenty different authors.

And, really, I am curious about this, don't you find strange that in contemporary wizardry society you hardly find interesting artists. Don't you miss more humanistic studies, here at Hogwarts? I have the impression that to avoid most conflicts between different points of view we are mostly trained not to reason as individuals, but to become simple 'technicians'?

We are trained to be just good witchcraft technicians. Charms, Spells, Potions technicians. It's not something to undervalue, not at all, but. is this enough for you?"

Hermione slowly reddened.

She went back to just some hours ago. Or maybe it was a whole life ago, the time was flowing so quickly, this unusual sixth year, and the Saturday had been full of surprises and discoveries.

Anyway, this morning, not exactly an eternity ago, yet somehow in the midst of the past, in front of the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room, Crookshanks lazily purring in her lap, she had been complaining of the lack of more humanistic classes. What had she imagined instead of the boring Professor Binn's lessons?

"History of British Magical Thought"?

Yes, something like that.

Oh, but she couldn't surrender to Malfoy's point. He was just a Slytherin, and Slyhterins, everybody knows it perfectly, are always wrong, no use taking them into consideration.

Oddly enough, she felt a stab of guilty. 'I don't want to quarrel,' she thought, 'I just want to. explain myself.'

"I believe that the real purpose is not to state whether collectivism or individualism are the better philosophical approach to judge an abstract society. I think that the real purpose of society itself is to improve the life conditions of the people belonging to that same society. And I don't mean only the economical conditions, but life quality as well.

My impression is that if we start fighting about which is better, we are stuck at a dead end; and, frankly, I am not able to discuss about this seriously, I must acknowledge it. Not about a complex society.

But I would like to speak about a micro society, like Hogwarts, we are experiencing first hand, every day. I just wanted to explain you that your kind of approach implies a closure. To think always about yourself is mean, is limitative.

And when you say that being a prefect means to look after the first year's kids because they are messing around, you are reducing this task to something dumb, deprived of its real power. There is something more about being a prefect, and there could be much, much more."

Hermione, still sat on the floor, outlined every single word tapping on the pavement rocks with her index finger.

"And this is the reason why I called the things you are after useless and not worthless; there's a slight difference," he muttered.

"Useless?"

"Yes, useless. Actually the prefect is only a little jail-policeman, officially he, or she, has only one duty: to help Filch. And every one runs away when you see the prefect approaching because you don't want to be pestered.

Even his brothers were fed up with poor Percy Weasley. don't do as you can't remember! I think he had more troubles and mockery by the twins, than by any other students of his own House!"

"I remember those days very well," Hermione answered on a bitter note, "But the trouble is the way some people perceive this charge: that's the first wrong thing! Some people can't discern in that charge 'authority' from 'abuse'!"

"You want the truth? Most of prefects, as soon as possible, act like jackass. Sort of omnipotence delirium takes them and they start imposing on everyone their personal obsessions: finally they have the public and a power.

Most of time they are earnest in their madness. And most of time they drive you mad about perfectly irrelevant dragon dung."

Hermione bounced, a sudden mental picture of Percy and his pompous speeches about cauldron bottoms, flickered through her mind.

Malfoy went on: "If he is not a good guy, or at least a decent guy, he poisons the life of everyone he is charge of.

Your grades can never show if you are a decent guy, believe me, or should I speak about the very brilliant Tom Riddle? He did great things indeed, terrible, yet great: a powerful wizard.

But, somehow I have the impression he would make you quiver as prefect, much more than my humble person would.

Surely more disgusting than Crabbe's unrequited attentions in the Quidditch closet. Am I wrong?

And the kids, poisoned and pestered by the jackass in charge, become worse than they were the first day they came here.

More over: to make them better people, as you would like so much, you should be, you, the perfect prefect, a better person. But, my darling, you can't help to be a slimy jackass as most of people are, with your personal flaws you are not even aware of. Your personal shade of jackass, but always a jackass.

How can you possibly hope to make a poor kid "better"."?

Hermione went red: "You are not completely wrong, and it isn't easy for me to acknowledge you, believe me. But during these days, I ended thinking differently, that charge is really a prize because it brings a responsibility with it.

And this peculiar responsibility is not only towards the others, oh no Malfoy, it is a responsibility towards yourself as well.

Just in order to make other people better we should first make ourselves better people, and to be better we should firstly know ourselves.

This sentence is about 2800 years old, but it is still a very wise sentence: 'Know yourself!'"

They were silent for a few minutes.

Hermione was mumbling about she had said, everything had blurted out naturally, surprising her, but somehow she felt she right.

Draco was looking at her, the he shook his head: "About your last sentence, I totally agree, but there is something disturbing I always thought about you: you have no wish to understand the world, you only want to change it."

Hermione wasn't paying attention, shrouded in thought, after a while she tilted her chin and looked into the boy's eyes, shy but firm.

"There is something else, Malfoy."

"Yes?"

Hermione reddened: "The prefects should spend their time with the kids, but they should take the time to mingle with the prefects from other Houses. When you are a child it is heartening to join people like you; everything is so new. I think it is very good that the Sorting Hat makes a choice at your place and its choice is not based on your skills, or on what you studied during summer time, at home. I understood it, later, but I got it: there is no House for the most skilled wizards.

The Sorting Hat chooses looking at what you are exactly and what you would like to become in that very moment. Later on it's not the same, I know it, I see things change around myself, continuously: people change imperceptibly, but in that moment you are in a precise way.

Even your family has its own precise traits, and it is good that the passage from home to Hogwarts appears effortless. Everything in your life is changing, it is your first time far from home, but nothing really changed, and the Common Room is less scary.

Especially for a Muggleborn, you can trust me Malfoy."

Malfoy's eyes inspected her eyes steadily, but he said no word.

Hermione went on: "But when the kids grow older, maybe they can look at the difference among the Houses with less rage and disdain, and they can work together to make things better. You are right, we don't become better people automatically, but sometimes a crash with someone different is like a lightning, this crash makes you see something in a different light, it opens you a new road you hadn't noticed." She halted abruptly, was she really speaking about the prefect? Or about herself and someone else?

She heard him whisper: "You speak so well, but I never saw you spend your time in cultural trades with the Slytherin girls and boys. Or with the Ravenclaw ones."

Draco went on, louder: "And the theatre lights? The perfection? Your wish to be so smart, has this all nothing to do with your admiration of the prefect charge?"

"I could deny it, but it wouldn't be true. You can act as a true bastard sometimes, but you are honest, at least you were honest to me during these Saturdays. There is no use lying to you," she looked steadily into his face," there is that trigger as well: reaching the best possible result. That's me! And I feel no shame for myself and my grades."

"Oh yes, Miss 125%, this is you." but he was looking at her quizzically.

"Then why did you give up?" no hint of kindness in his voice, so soft hook to grab and feel safe, no implied cuddle, just a verbal slap, given without any rage.

She held her knees even more tightly "You listed my reasons by yourself! Can't you browse them and pick up one on your own? You are witty and smart, cant you choose? What do you want from me? I mean what exactly do you want?"

She looked into his eyes, in hurt: "You know, Malfoy, you apparently talk to me, but in reality, as soon as you can you pull the trigger and shoot at me.

Do you like so much to be harsh?

When your day is over what do you do? You review and savour every nasty word you dropped? Are you so proud of your list of obnoxious remarks? Your life must be a bunch of dragon dung if your only satisfaction relies on this kind of things.

I think it is a good thing you didn't accept the prefect role, you know?

McGonagall was mad when she asked you to accept that charge, and even madder when she felt upset! And I was a very stupid brainless girl to ask you why, I had to have a sigh of relief, instead! Relieved and silent!

I am not here to chat with you, I am here only to use you, yes use the charming silvery-eyed Draco Malfoy. And for a fantasy of mine he was nothing to do with!

And you had the brazenness to talk about "truce between us" and "let's not take it as a Slytherin-Gryffindor affair"!"

He answered her coldly, ". and, asking you that question would not be merciful, of course. Oh Draco Malfoy is so nasty! An individualist ugly Slytherin. How could he dare to ask this to Hermione Granger, to a girl so eager to gift the society her wonderful inner world? Granger the prefect, bossy Granger, perfect Granger. Well maybe sometimes under appreciated Granger, but so terribly cute Granger.

Who is Malfoy, indeed, compared to her? Just a Slytherin cad gunning down her smile. why should she listen to him while he is speaking?

But, to ask you this simple question, should be just, in my opinion. Chiefly if, as far as I can understand, you don't ask your question to yourself, on your own."

They studied each other, but the girl blushed and looked away.

After a while Draco sighed and went nearer Herimone. He sat behind the girl and started to massage her shoulders.

"Forget what I said, cinnamon squirrel, you are right: they are not my business".

Malfoy nodded. "Perhaps McGonagall would understand your reasons to become the perfect prefect, you know? And even the reasons why not." he slowly twirled one of locks around his fingers.

She relaxed and in a lighter tone she said: "I have climbed the staircase to the Astronomy Tower because of her, you know?"

"Are you joking?"

"I wanted something. something wild to remember."

Draco burst out laughing, unable to control himself.

"Stop it Malfoy. for a moment I thought you were a serious person!"

"You should stop it, Granger, please. something wild?"

"Yes, wild. So? Any trouble?" she retorted

"Granger I kissed your lips, your face, your eyes, the delicious line of your jaw, but whenever I tried to move below your chin: nothing!

A kiss on your neck and you stiffened like a Victorian witch, thinking about what mummy might ever say. and all this would be savage wilderness on your opinion?" he shook his head. "You ought to be sorted into HufflePuff House. Or maybe you might be a Ravenclaw. But a Gryffindor? Your sorting was an unforgivable mistake!"

"I never thought that. libertinage was a Gryffindor trait!"

"Libertinage? Oh my! How the hell do you pick up your words? Maybe my grandmother would say libertinage! However, what she would imply could make you squeak.

Probably she would mean a very long row of moans and sighs and piercing screams coming from a lot of different lips."

"Oh, an endless row of conquers, modest Casanova."

"Oh, no, it is not my case. I can't complain of what I had, there are people of my same age who can only dream of moans and groans, at least I have reality! But surely not an endless row. I am a pragmatic wizard, I don't need to boast my life to feel right.

Anyway, my lovely HufflePuff to be, everything happened between both of us is more or less what a couple of thirteen years old children might do. A normal girl would call it nuzzling, cuddling, hugging. But no, the Gryffindor prude has to choose 'libertinage', try to be down-to-earth for once.

Even Dumbledore would roll on the floor if Filch might ever find us together and accused us of 'libertinage'. Oh please Granger, you are priceless! The boy who might ever wish to have with you something more. interesting has to walk you for a long road! Libertinage! I don't envy him at all!" he was strangling with his own laughs.

"You are really a jerk!"

"Ok, ok, I am a jerk, you are a cherub and it is late, let's go back to our Common Rooms, reflecting on our sins!" he was definitely mocking her.

She couldn't help a smile.

Draco was leaning down to kiss her cheek as goodbye, but she swung. Their lips met, unwillingly; nor the boy, nor the girl was waiting for this casual brush.

His lips were suddenly hungry for her smile, and then followed eager her jaw line, just to go back slowly to her mouth

Startled she disclosed lightly her lips to ease the path of his tongue, but his silvery eyes grinned and he only kept teasing at Hermione's lips with his own. She sighed, and rose on her tiptoes; she grazed his lips lightly with her teeth, blushing.

It was true, the boundaries were up to her, at least the boundary about everything physical, but this meant, however, that if she wanted something she had to take it by herself. She heaved a sigh. She felt so clumsy.

This time he kissed Hermione roughly surprising her, his hands cupping her face.

Her fingertips slowly caressed his fingers.

'So odd,' she thought, they could share the same intimacy, being so different, and staying so different one from the other. Two persons apart.

The thought was floating on the surface of her sensations. The feeling of the afternoon, when she had let go of herself into his arms, forgetting everything else, even common sense, was slowly mixing to these new feelings.

She felt his warmth surround her body, while he was hugging her, not holding her tight, just his hands slowly stroking her shoulders.

Hermione stroked his shoulders as well, nested into his arms, her eyes closed.

The position was awkward, he was too tall and she was too short, for a glimpse she wished to go back to the HufflePuff pillows.

He suddenly let go of her. "It is too. late, it is too late, really"

The starry night was evidence about how late it was.

She nodded and took the staircase.

While she was climbing down the steps, she heard him laugh.

She shook her head, but she felt the wish to laugh as well.