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Chapter 3
So I was once myself a swinger of birches
And so I dream of going back to be…
I would never tell her, but she was different one-on-one too.
She was more relaxed. Less Little Miss Know-It-All. When she spoke in class, she always knew the answer and that had irked me in the past. Now…well, she still always knew the answer, but I was beginning to understand that she wasn't showing off. Her intellect was part of who she was. And when she came off as conceited in class, I now had an inkling that she was trying to impress the professors more than the students.
"You know, Granger, you're not that bad a teacher."
Her head shot up and she gazed at me. I half expected her jaw to drop and hang on the table. She hesitated for a moment before responding. "I…I'm sorry, I don't think I understood what you just said."
"I said, you're a pretty decent teacher," I repeated.
"No, no," she objected. "That couldn't have been it. See, that's a compliment."
"Yeah…"
"You know, Malfoy, that a compliment is something nice about somebody else?"
"Alright, sorry." I apologized. "I'll stick to sarcasm if it makes you so uncomfortable." I glanced at the nearby clock on the library wall, then immediately began gathering my effects. "I have to go."
"Well, I didn't think I had offended you that badly."
"Don't flatter yourself," I shot back, rising to my feet. "I have Quidditch practice."
"We haven't even made it through the chapter," she complained, placing a firm hand on my Dark Arts text when I reached for it.
"Then we'll finish it later."
"Your paper's due tomorrow," she reminded me. "When's later?"
I sighed and shrugged, wishing she would just allow me to leave. "I don't know, after dinner I guess."
"After dinner is after curfew."
I lifted an eyebrow and smirked at her. "You afraid to sneak out Granger?"
"Not afraid." She sat back. "Just not stupid. I'm not about to get caught roaming about to further your education."
"We're prefects. I don't think anyone is going to pay much attention if we wander the halls a little." I wrenched my book out from under her hand, which by the look it earned me, she didn't appreciate.
"We can only stay out so late without going past our curfew as well." Her look suddenly transformed into the condescending one I was more accustomed to. "You always abuse your authority like this?"
"Worry about yourself. I'm a big boy." I began walking backwards through the stack nearest to us, heading for the entrance to the library. "Just meet me here later." I turned.
"Malfoy!" she yelled after me in protest.
"See ya then!" I responded, choosing not to give her the chance to say no. I heard her sigh in resignation and grinned at the tiny victory.
I found myself actually looking forward to that evening. It surprised me a little. It scared me a little.
Used to be Granger (or any Gryffindor) would have been the last person I wanted to spend any time with. Now I found she was far more engaging company than Crabbe and Goyle and she certainly didn't hang all over me like Parkinson. I actually didn't feel in charge for once and I somewhat enjoyed it.
Of course, I knew what my father would say to that. I was supposed to be in charge. I was supposed to be intimidating.
You're a Malfoy, you start acting like one!
I shook the thought from my head and fiddled around in the deep pockets of my black robes for my wand as I reached the library doors. When I found it, I glanced down the hall both ways, and then raised it.
"Alohomora," I whispered, smiling in satisfaction when I heard the lock click.
I pulled one of the double doors open and cautiously stepped through them. Then I began peeking through the shelves in search or Hermione. Unfortunately, the lighting was horrible this time of night. The sun no longer filtered through the windows, revealing floating dust particles. There was a limited supply of lit candles. And we didn't have a regular study table that I could pinpoint by memory.
I was beginning to think that even though I was late, she was later when I heard: "Over here."
I jumped, but I don't think she noticed, for which I was grateful. I squinted into the darkness and spotted the young brunette seated at a back table, shrouded in shadows except for the two lone candles she had lit. I headed toward her, cursing under my breath when my shin hit the leg of the chair across from her that I was meant to sit in. She did giggle softly at this.
"Laugh it up," I hissed at her.
She stopped laughing and pressed her lips together tightly, trying to stifle any more chuckles that might have come out. She gestured for me to sit and set down what was already written of my paper in front of me. She was pointing out the mistakes she had marked in red ink when she mentioned that she had brought along her paper (that she had already finished, of course) as a point of reference.
At this comment, I stared at her for what must have been a rather prolonged moment.
"What?" she prompted.
"I used to think you were a showoff Granger, but now I'm not so sure." I watched her shift uncomfortably in her seat. "Why do you try so hard?"
She lifted her eyes to mine. "You'd be surprised how many wizards there are out there like you. They don't say it maybe, but they don't expect much from me. I guess I want them-I want you to think I'm a good witch."
I think I managed to keep the surprise off my face. I excelled at stoicism. "I do."
"No, you don't," She gave me a small smile. "You think I'm a good witch for what I am."
"I didn't say that-"
"No, but that's what you meant," she cut me off, letting out a rueful laugh and looking down at the parchment again. "That's what you always mean."
She began reading over my paper again, appearing as though she was looking to see if she had missed anything, but I knew she hadn't. She was avoiding looking at me.
I observed her silently, not really sure if she was aware of my gaze or not. I thought about all the things I had said to her over the years I had known her and the rest of her little Trio. The first time I had called her a mudblood, I had meant to hurt her feelings. Now if I ever said it, it was more out of habit than anything else. I never expected her to take it to heart quite that much. Though part of me was glad that my opinion meant that much to her.
I glanced at everything she had brought with her and spotted the book she had been reading during one of our sessions last week. The one by the Muggle poet. I reached over and picked it up, opening it and quickly skimming a little of the first few poems. When I closed it, I noticed her watching me again.
Maybe it paid to be a little more open-mined at times.
I lifted the book for her to see. "You mind if I borrow this?" I asked, turning it over in my hand and studying it. "Thinkin' about giving it a try."
She continued to stare at me for a while before a smile began tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah," she finally replied. "Yeah, sure. Take it."
The smile had turned into a grin. And to my surprise, I smiled back.
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