Malfoy grew a mischevious smile as he answered. "Well, I was born at a very young age..."
Hermione groaned. "Oh, come on. At least be original."
He sighed. "Fine, fine, fine. I was born in New York."
"New York City?"
"No, just the state. A little town called Strawberry Fields."
"How very Little House on the Prairie."
"What?" he asked, not recognizing the Muggle book.
"Nevermind. Go on."
"My mum was British, so was my dad, but they met at Columbia College."
"You're parents went to a Muggle college?" Hermione asked, incredulously.
"There aren't any wizarding universities or colleges. And my parents both wanted to learn about Muggles."
"I thought they hated Muggles."
"They do, now anyways."
"Why did it change?"
Draco normally would have gotten annoyed with someone asking him all these questions about his family, but for some reason Hermione didnt bother him. He looked thoughtfully at her. "Well, I think my father fell in love with a Muggle girl in college and she, I dunno, hurt him or something, and he started hating them. So, he and my mum married and had me and moved to Strawberry. When I turned three, we moved back to England. And then I went to Hogwarts and became a prefect and began failing Potions, and here I am."
But Hermione wasn't finished. "You said you're father fell in love, but he married your mum. Does he love her?"
"No," Draco said, instantly. For most people, this would be a tough question, but not for him. He'd know it since the day he was born. Narcissa Malfoy was only there for the sake of Lucius having a wife.
"Do you know why?"
"I'm sixteen," Draco said. "I don't know anything."
"Well, why do you think he doesn't love her, then?"
Draco sighed. "I think my father lost all his feelings for humanity when the Muggle woman broke his heart. He only does things if there's a purpose, not because he feels for it, or has a passion for it. He married my mother because he needed a wife. He had me because he needed an heir. He built our house because we needed a roof. He made it into a mansion because we needed to look important. It's all appearances with him."
"What about you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, is it all appearances with you?" Up until a week ago, Hermione wouldn't have even had to ask that question. She would have known the answer was yes. Now, she wasn't so sure. He was talking to her, a Muggleborn, after all.
"No, not really. I act like it is for a very good reason." He paused for a second, reflecting, but then continued. "My father never explicitly told me not to be friends with Muggleborns or Gryffindors or Dumbledore's allies, but I've always known he didn't want me to. And I don't want to disappoint him."
"No one wants to disappoint their father, Draco," Hermione murmured. He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.
"You called me Draco," he told her. "I hope you know that."
"Yes, I knew that," she said, briskly, sounding a bit hurt. "I did ask you to tell me about your life, and not to call you Draco after that would be a little silly, don't you think?"
"Yes... I suppose so... Where was I?"
Hermione decided to change the subject to something a little lighter on the emotions. "Why did you move back to England when you were three? Just to go to Hogwarts?"
Draco laughed. "Actually, when I was three, I started to talk. Dad and Mum knew I was going to Hogwarts when I was older and they didn't want me to grow up with a weird accent at school."
Hermione laughed, too. "They thought you'd be teased?"
"They thought they'd be teased."
"Oh, I see," Hermione muttered. "Did both your parents go to Hogwarts?"
"Yes, but my father was two years ahead of her, a Slytherin, and she was a Ravenclaw. They never spoke."
"You're mother was a Ravenclaw? I didn't know that."
"That's how it is in my family," Draco said. "You can marry a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw and be in Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but Slytherin is prefered. I'm not exactly sure why."
"Maybe it's the image of being shrewd and cunning."
"Or maybe it's because we like to think we're elite, or something," Draco sighed. "It all goes back to appearances. I hate having the appearance that I do. I hate being in Slytherin."
"But, you bragged about it on the train in first year," Hermione remembered. "About how you knew you were going to be in Slytherin, and it was the best house anyways, and only purebloods could get in and..."
"Have you seen the people in my house?" Draco demanded. "They're morons! Crabbe and Goyle are as thick aspoles, and don't even get me started on the girls, one of which I'm supposed to marry when I get older! I mean, Milicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson? Please! They look like dogs, and I'm not talking French poodles."
Hermione giggled a little, and put her hand over her mouth. She didn't want to offend him, but he cracked a smile at her, and asked, "Anything else you want to know, Miss Inquisitve?"
"A few things. Why do you hate Harry?"
"Because he's a cocky, arrogant, son of a..."
"Okay, stop there," Hermione said, holding up a hand. "Harry is not arrogant, he hates being a hero!"
"And yet, he still manages to find a way to do it."
"Well, who else is going to help people? If he doesn't, who will?" Draco looked at the ground. Hermione gave a soft smile. "You don't hate him because he's arrogant. You don't like him because he's better at things than you."
"I'll admit, that's part of it," Draco said. "But the other part is that he... well... this is going to sound stupid."
"No, it won't."
"It's because he wouldn't shake my hand on the train in first year, when I told him I could help him find good friends."
Hermione stared at him. "I stand corrected," she admitted. "That does sound stupid."
"Fine, then," Draco grumped, folding his arms across his chest. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes, just one thing," Hermione said, and paused. It was a rather tough question. Draco noted the somber look that came across her face and braced himself. "Did your... Has your father ever, you know... hurt you?"
"Not physically," Draco said, drawing out the answer. "I mean, emotionally, I always feel like I'm less than whatever he wants me to be. I mean, he was Head Boy, he never failed Potions, he was popular, especially with girls. Me, I'm... not. And he reminds me every time he looks at me. Erm... why to you ask?"
"I don't know..." Hermione whispered. "I've met Lucius, and he seems the, uh, type."
"There's a type to beat children?"
"There's a type for just about everything."
"Is there a type for me?" Draco asked, with a confident smile. Hermione grinned.
"You break the mold."
A/N: YAY! THEY'RE TALKING! Oh, wait, I made them talk... hmmm... And, by request (even though I wasn't going to do it, but it's a good idea) I'm going to have Hermione's life on here, too. And,I have a non-cliche way to do it, too! HOORAH!
Thanks for all your reviews! They all encourage me so much! Next chapter up soon!