From her perch on the window seat she shared with her roommates,
Hermione scrutinized the text before her for two whole minutes, when she
realized that she hadn't absorbed any of what she had read. With a sigh,
she put down the book and stared out at the night sky. She'd been much more
herself the first week of the term after her wavering start on the first
day. Still, there were times when she began to wonder what all this was
for. Why did she go through life, what was the point of doing well? What
did it get her? A plaque, maybe, and praise from her teachers. Jerking
herself our of the endless array of stars, Hermione gathered her things and
laid them on her bedside table, making her way down to the common room to
meet with Harry and Ron.
Hermione giggled her way down the stairs, having heard Ron having a . . . heated discussion with Seamus about opposing Quidditch teams. From across the room, she could easily make out his flaming red ears, and was amusing herself by whispering a small charm to make them emanate steam. It actually looked quite realistic! Sauntering across the room, she flicked her wand towards Ron, before he could reach a mirror that would tell him why Seamus had suddenly started laughing.
"Hey, guys, what's up?" She asked, flopping on the couch while her companions looked at her strangely. "What?" her eyebrows rose, looking around at the aghast/amused faces surrounding her.
"You said you were going up to work on our transfiguration homework." Harry began, and then continued, as she exaggerated a nod, as if to say, "Duh". "That was two feet of parchment. You went up there ten minutes ago. Forgive us if we seem confused."
"Well, I didn't do it all!" she exclaimed with a laugh, "I may be good, but I'm not that good!" It was like they saw her as some sort of mindless homework doing machine! "I couldn't concentrate, so I decided to come down and see what all you normal people are doing for a change!" she relaxed as her companions burst into comfortable smiles. She was lucky to have so many friends who cared about whether she was insane or not.
****
Spread dejectedly across a couch, Draco Malfoy hid from his peers. Nothing heinous had happened recently, but this was something he had been doing ever since the end of summer break. He had figured that the library was the best bet for not running into any of them, because, as a self respecting Slytherin, he had hardly set foot inside himself, until he became the bane of the Dark Lord's existence. About half of his vacation had been spent crouching in the corners of his "friends'' homes, until they heard of his betrayal, at which point he had to move on.
Why had he refused the post that earned fear and respect (i.e. power) from nearly every wizarding family in Europe? Certainly, he detested all his father stood for, but was that really enough to go against everything he was raised for? No. He had come to Hogwarts with those distorted visions of what was right, but, through the years, he had seen the camaraderie of the Huffepuffs to everyone, the loyalty of the Gryffindors, and even the intense devotion to ideas within his own house. Now, in all honesty, he still took pleasure in taking others off their high horses, because, if they think they're better then him, just because they weren't purebloods, then they were to be pitied, not for their plight, but for their stupidity. Being a victim means nothing in the eyes of this pale dragon. It just no longer justified killing.
A second year Ravenclaw made the mistake of jolting Draco out of his peaceful reverie, earning himself a healthy cussing out. Although it was now cold and hard, nothing like the superior teasing Malfoy had doled out the year before. Now, every threat that passed his lips had a sense of meaning, as though they would be put into action if provoked. His hatred now rivaled his father's, except for one gut wrenching difference. When Lucius hated, he had a focus, a way to direct his anger. Draco has nothing. No place to direct this bitter anger, so that it stays inside him, eating away at his heart, and slowly hollowing him out.
****
Heart lightened by her laughing session with her friends, Hermione embarked on what would have been a leisurely stroll, had her book bag not been so heavy. She shifted it on her shoulder, and set out with renewed enthusiasm towards the serenity of the library. As she neared the intricately carved swinging doors, they slid open, not more then a foot, admitting just enough room for a dark figure to slid out, cloak pulled over his head. As he passed her, he looked up, only the barest sliver of his face visible, between the coal color of his hood, and the shadows creeping up his face. For a moment, she was amazed at he lack of expression on his face, wondering whether it was physically possible to look that neutral. Then, a wave of emotion hit her, as though it were emanating from his retreating form. Under that still visage, there had been a hard person, wrought with vengeance.
She knew who it was, and she also knew that he had not taken a shot at her yet, although he would normally have teased her a dozen times by now. As embarrassed as she was to admit it, she was worried about him. She had, out of habit avoided him, but she had seen the unlucky others that happened to cross his path. He no longer stopped to consider that a teacher may be approaching, or care about anything other then his audience. He had always loved basking in the attention he received when grinding someone's books into a spilled potion, but, now, he would do nothing other then glare coldly if there was a possibility of a crowd forming. It was as if he had changed into a completely different person, unable to extract any amount of pleasure from life, not even the pleasure he derived from his normal insults. She felt sorry for him. She really did. He didn't know the happiness she did, surrounded by those who loved her.
Realizing that she had been standing in the same place for over a minute, staring at what had once been Draco's retreating back, she shook her head to clear it, and passed into the safe haven of plush armchairs and the smell of musty parchment, relaxing as she entered.
****
There it was . . . And there it goes. . . . Sorry so short!
~wuv oo~
Hermione giggled her way down the stairs, having heard Ron having a . . . heated discussion with Seamus about opposing Quidditch teams. From across the room, she could easily make out his flaming red ears, and was amusing herself by whispering a small charm to make them emanate steam. It actually looked quite realistic! Sauntering across the room, she flicked her wand towards Ron, before he could reach a mirror that would tell him why Seamus had suddenly started laughing.
"Hey, guys, what's up?" She asked, flopping on the couch while her companions looked at her strangely. "What?" her eyebrows rose, looking around at the aghast/amused faces surrounding her.
"You said you were going up to work on our transfiguration homework." Harry began, and then continued, as she exaggerated a nod, as if to say, "Duh". "That was two feet of parchment. You went up there ten minutes ago. Forgive us if we seem confused."
"Well, I didn't do it all!" she exclaimed with a laugh, "I may be good, but I'm not that good!" It was like they saw her as some sort of mindless homework doing machine! "I couldn't concentrate, so I decided to come down and see what all you normal people are doing for a change!" she relaxed as her companions burst into comfortable smiles. She was lucky to have so many friends who cared about whether she was insane or not.
****
Spread dejectedly across a couch, Draco Malfoy hid from his peers. Nothing heinous had happened recently, but this was something he had been doing ever since the end of summer break. He had figured that the library was the best bet for not running into any of them, because, as a self respecting Slytherin, he had hardly set foot inside himself, until he became the bane of the Dark Lord's existence. About half of his vacation had been spent crouching in the corners of his "friends'' homes, until they heard of his betrayal, at which point he had to move on.
Why had he refused the post that earned fear and respect (i.e. power) from nearly every wizarding family in Europe? Certainly, he detested all his father stood for, but was that really enough to go against everything he was raised for? No. He had come to Hogwarts with those distorted visions of what was right, but, through the years, he had seen the camaraderie of the Huffepuffs to everyone, the loyalty of the Gryffindors, and even the intense devotion to ideas within his own house. Now, in all honesty, he still took pleasure in taking others off their high horses, because, if they think they're better then him, just because they weren't purebloods, then they were to be pitied, not for their plight, but for their stupidity. Being a victim means nothing in the eyes of this pale dragon. It just no longer justified killing.
A second year Ravenclaw made the mistake of jolting Draco out of his peaceful reverie, earning himself a healthy cussing out. Although it was now cold and hard, nothing like the superior teasing Malfoy had doled out the year before. Now, every threat that passed his lips had a sense of meaning, as though they would be put into action if provoked. His hatred now rivaled his father's, except for one gut wrenching difference. When Lucius hated, he had a focus, a way to direct his anger. Draco has nothing. No place to direct this bitter anger, so that it stays inside him, eating away at his heart, and slowly hollowing him out.
****
Heart lightened by her laughing session with her friends, Hermione embarked on what would have been a leisurely stroll, had her book bag not been so heavy. She shifted it on her shoulder, and set out with renewed enthusiasm towards the serenity of the library. As she neared the intricately carved swinging doors, they slid open, not more then a foot, admitting just enough room for a dark figure to slid out, cloak pulled over his head. As he passed her, he looked up, only the barest sliver of his face visible, between the coal color of his hood, and the shadows creeping up his face. For a moment, she was amazed at he lack of expression on his face, wondering whether it was physically possible to look that neutral. Then, a wave of emotion hit her, as though it were emanating from his retreating form. Under that still visage, there had been a hard person, wrought with vengeance.
She knew who it was, and she also knew that he had not taken a shot at her yet, although he would normally have teased her a dozen times by now. As embarrassed as she was to admit it, she was worried about him. She had, out of habit avoided him, but she had seen the unlucky others that happened to cross his path. He no longer stopped to consider that a teacher may be approaching, or care about anything other then his audience. He had always loved basking in the attention he received when grinding someone's books into a spilled potion, but, now, he would do nothing other then glare coldly if there was a possibility of a crowd forming. It was as if he had changed into a completely different person, unable to extract any amount of pleasure from life, not even the pleasure he derived from his normal insults. She felt sorry for him. She really did. He didn't know the happiness she did, surrounded by those who loved her.
Realizing that she had been standing in the same place for over a minute, staring at what had once been Draco's retreating back, she shook her head to clear it, and passed into the safe haven of plush armchairs and the smell of musty parchment, relaxing as she entered.
****
There it was . . . And there it goes. . . . Sorry so short!
~wuv oo~