12:40

"I can't believe you're still eating. Honestly, it's obscene. Even Ron can't put away that much food."

Draco, who had resumed work on the chicken as soon as the latest charting session had been completed, snorted. "There hasn't been an area yet in which I can't best the Weasel- I'm more intelligent, better looking, loads more skilled at Quidditch- why should eating be any different?"

Hermione's eyes flashed and she sucked in a sharp breath, preparing to jump to her friend's defense- but before she could, Draco smoothly changed the subject, throwing her off-balance yet again, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Conversing with Draco Malfoy was nothing if not unpredictable.

"Why aren't you in potions this year?" he asked, looking uncharacteristically serious and- well, interested. "You were- you were halfway decent at it, Granger. Did you get tired of being Longbottom's walking, talking potions reference book? Or did big, bad Snape frighten you away?"

"Neither," she snapped. "Teachers don't frighten me, Malfoy. And I never did any more for Neville than I saw you doing for those morons Crabbe and Goyle. It's just that I got called on it and you didn't, thanks to that greasy-haired, hook-nosed, rotten-breathed-"

"Easy, Granger," Draco said mildly, "that's my godfather you're talking about."

She stopped abruptly, mid-tirade, her mouth still open, staring at him, shocked. "Oh," she finally managed, and shut her mouth with a snap. Must he keep springing things on her like this?

She was silent for a long while, rendered well and truly speechless by this newest tidbit of information he had bestowed upon her- Snape, Draco's godfather? The same sort of loving, supportive older male figure that Sirius had been to Harry? Snape? Come to think of it, it explained a lot inasmuch as the potion master's blatant favoritism, but…Snape, a godfather? Had he bounced a baby Draco on his knee once upon a time? Read him bedtime stories? Changed his nappies? She just couldn't quite seem to wrap her mind around the concept.

Draco reclaimed her attention by prompting, "were you going to tell me why you did drop potions, Granger? Or just list all the factors that didn't contribute while insulting my godfather every way you know how?"

"I-I-" Good Lord, pull yourself together, girl. "It just wasn't my favorite subject, or my best, Malfoy, all right? I probably would have let it go even if the teacher didn't absolutely hate all Gryffindors, and me more than most. When sixth year started, so many new and interesting subjects became available- why keep one that didn't agree with me when there were a dozen others to choose from? That's really all there is to it- no deep or sordid reason- I just wanted to try new things."

"Huh. I guess I can accept that."

She bristled. "Accept it or don't, Malfoy, I really don't care! I neither seek nor require your approval on my choice of classes!"

"Calm down, Granger. All I meant was, I hope you're doing something else worthy with your time, if not potions. It would be a shame for someone with your potential to let it go to waste."

"Potential," she echoed, her voice barely more than a whisper, "my potential?" Her mind was now officially reeling from this entire conversation. What the hell was Draco trying to do here? Was it his intent to shock her so often and so deeply over the course of one night that when Harry and Ron came to collect her in the morning she would be huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth, babbling nonsensically with her fingers in her ears?

She swallowed and shook her head. "A mudblood like me has potential, Malfoy? Never thought I'd hear you admit to that."

"I've called you a lot of things over the years, Granger, and I make no apologies. But I've never called you stupid. Hell, you're nearly as smart as I am, I think."

Now she was indignant. "Nearly as smart? I earn better marks than you in every single class we share!"

"You didn't in potions, though, did you? Maybe that's why you really dropped it. Couldn't stand being second best. And you call me arrogant."

"If I couldn't stand it, it was because it was so unfair! I never had a fair shot in potions, because Snape always favored the Slytherins, and above all, you!"

"Just as every single other teacher at Hogwarts favors non-Slytherins, and above all you," Draco shot back. "The faculty in this school is just like the students; the vast majority of them loathe us. They loathe us from the minute we're first sorted into Slytherin when we're eleven years old. I'm sure they would secretly love to have joined with your old friends the Weasley twins in booing and hissing at those tired, scared children who, at the welcome feast every year, have the 'misfortune' of being sorted into my House. That was low, Granger. You never heard us Slytherins booing the new Gryffindors, did you? No, because even we- even we who most of the school consider to be the lowest of the low- wouldn't stoop to booing first-years at the welcome feast!"

He paused, slightly breathless from his rant, and ran a hand distractedly through his fair hair, composing himself. He seemed truly and deeply distressed over the treatment of his younger Housemates. Just another surprise among many tonight for Hermione, who had always figured Slytherins in general, and Malfoy in particular, to be very much of the every-man-for-himself persuasion. Though she had privately thought to herself that there was indeed something unsavory about older students, such as Fred and George had been, targeting first-years, she just hadn't expected Draco to be so visibly upset over the treatment of anyone at all save- well, save Draco.

Draco Malfoy, defender of children, she thought to herself, and had to bite back a chuckle. Somehow, the fact that Draco was bothered by the treatment of those first-years, which had no direct bearing whatsoever on his own well-being, made him seem less like the ogre she had considered him to be for six years and more- more human.

"But I digress," he said at length. "Back to the issue of bias among teachers. So we Slytherins have one teacher- one!- who's pulling for us to succeed. Who doesn't treat us as second-class citizens just because of what House we hail from. Did you ever stop to consider, Granger, that the reason you never bested me in potions may not have been that Snape favored me, but that he simply refused to favor you the same way everyone else does? Hmm? That Snape may, in fact, have been the only unbiased teacher you've encountered here, and that you're simply so used to having the scales automatically tipped in your favor that you couldn't stand it when he looked at the two us of impartially, and impartially concluded that I am, in fact, the superior student in his subject?"

"Why, that's…that's…just…" Hermione spluttered.

Draco let her go on in this vein for a moment, then shot her a wicked grin and said, "Come on, Granger, of course Snape favors me. I am his godson after all. Still- made you think, didn't I?"

This much, she had to admit, was true.

00000

1:05

"-So that's my cause in a nutshell, Granger. You asked, I told. You can take it or leave it. I don't really expect you hold with everything I believe in, but surely you can admit that there is some basis for wanting to keep wizarding blood pure. If we keep breeding with Muggles, we'll breed ourselves right out of existence. There are few enough of us already; far fewer than there used to be."

"Well, I'm glad at least that you have the sense not to expect me to 'hold with', as you put it, a cause that promotes the annihilation of people like me and my family. That shows that you at least have some common sense, Malfoy."

Draco's eyes flashed a challenge.

"Tell me, then, Granger," he drawled, "about your own cause. Make me understand the ideals that drive Albus Dumbledore and his merry band of Muggle-lovers. I'm dying to hear."

She thought hard for a moment. She needed to explain this simply and vividly in order to have the best chance of getting her point across. Not that Draco was stupid- he was far from it, as was becoming abundantly clear tonight- but still, this was important. If she could get him to see things from her point of view for even one minute- if she could plant just a seed of doubt in him about the ideals he had been raised to believe in- then with a mind as sharp as his he was not likely to let that seed lie fallow; he would start to think, and once he started- it could possibly change the course of his life. She knew she was probably being overly optimistic, but….

It was her best chance, in all likelihood her only chance, to potentially influence his way of thinking. She needed to plant a seed he would remember.

So much- so very, very much- hinged on how she worded this.

Finally she began, speaking slowly, "the Americans talk about the pursuit of happiness. I suppose that's truly what our cause is all about- it's…it's just that simple, really. Everyone, Muggles and wizardkind alike, should be allowed the pursuit of happiness, Malfoy. And if a wizard can find happiness in loving a Muggle, then he should be allowed. You will never convince me that wizards will breed themselves out of existence by marrying Muggles, not when two Muggles with no history of wizarding blood in their families at all can spontaneously produce magical children- like me. Over a third of the population of Hogwarts is Muggle-born, after all. And if there are fewer witches and wizards around than there used to be, maybe it's because these dark wizards keep coming along- like your own master, for instance- and killing off all those they don't believe are worthy to be considered wizardkind. Did you ever think about that?"

Draco was scowling. "No man is my master," he growled. "If I follow anyone, it is because I believe in his cause and I choose to do so."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Is that so? Tell me something, Malfoy, about your own pursuit of happiness. Do you believe it will bring you joy in life to marry a woman who was chosen for you, at birth, by your parents- before they could have had any inkling of whether she would be good match for you physically, mentally, emotionally- chosen just because of her bloodline, the same way people breed prized animals? Will marriage to Pansy bring you a lifetime of happiness? And here's something else for you to ponder- will it bring you satisfaction to be a follower all your life, to blindly follow your Dark Lord just because your father does, to blindly believe in the ideals you were raised to believe in, never thinking, never questioning? To be a henchman all your life- for even if you climb to the highest position among You-Know-Who's ranks, as I've no doubt you are capable of doing, remember this; the top henchman is still a henchman. Will that bring you contentment? I hardly know you, but even I can see that you are smart and independent by nature. So I don't think this life you have all planned out is one that will really agree with you in the end. But I could be wrong, so you tell me, Malfoy, are you pursuing happiness through the decisions you make- or rather, allow others to make for you?"

She had avoided looking directly at him throughout her monologue, gazing instead out the nearest window and nervously toying with her hair. She looked at him now, and was surprised by what she saw. He had dropped his defenses, momentarily at least, and the expression on his normally guarded face could only be described as one of deep unease.

I've made him think, she thought jubilantly; I've done it, will you look at that- I've really made him think!

Then his defenses snapped back into place, like shutters slamming behind his quartz-colored eyes, and his face was once again blank and emotionless.

"I don't have to answer to you, Granger," he said flatly.

But that, in itself, was all the answer she needed.

00000

1:30

"Have you ever heard of a Muggle named Adolph Hitler, Malfoy?"

"Adolph who?"

"Hitler. He was a dictator." She paused, saw his blank look, and elaborated. "A- a tyrant. Sort of…hm. A Muggle equivalent of a Dark Lord, I suppose."

"Can't say that I have. I don't take Muggle Studies. Did you know him?"

Hermione snorted. "No. He lived and died decades and decades ago. But most Muggles know of him- and I think that you should too. It's an interesting story. Wanna hear?"

Another of those shrugs that she was coming to see as just as much a trademark as his smirk. "Sure, Granger. I'm not going anywhere."

00000

1:40

"You must be joking."

"No joke."

"Millions of people?"

"Millions and millions. Men, women, children, babies."

"Just because they had dark hair. Or spoke another language. Or had different religious beliefs?"

"Yes. You'd probably have been safe, at least appearance-wise, but me-" She twirled a thick lock of her dark, unruly hair around a finger- "I'd've been dead for sure."

"But-" he seemed genuinely puzzled, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of something that made no sense. He was unsuccessful. "But that's just stupid," he said at last.

And to a pureblooded wizard, who had had virtually no contact whatsoever with Muggles, it would seem so. For there was very little discrimination in the wizarding world due to race, nationality, or religious affiliation- the only real discrimination, among those who discriminated at all, had to do with how far back one could trace the wizarding blood in one's family.

And that was just it. She had to make him realize that-

"Don't you see, Malfoy? The languages, the religious differences, all that stuff- it was just on the surface. What it came down to was blood. Hitler wanted to cleanse the world of what he considered 'inferior blood', and start again- repopulate the earth with the descendents of just one race; the Aryan race. Just as your Dark Lord wants to cleanse the earth of all blood save old, pure wizarding blood and repopulate accordingly. Hitler, your precious Dark Lord- They are exactly the same."

He was shaking his head before she even finished speaking, a stubborn expression darkening his features.

"No. It's different. Completely different."

"Is it? Think about it, Malfoy. Think real hard."