A/N: hushed voice Ladies and gentlemen… end hushed voice At last, we have come upon an Important!Chapter. Possibly it is the most important yet, considering everyone except Hermione, because she's a changing change-bunny. …Yeah, I have no idea what that means. Sue me.
There have been questions, one of them surprised me. 1: of course Hermione and Draco still have feelings for each other!! This is news to you? I've turned into a Hermione/Draco shipper extraordinaire, mostly meaning that I always put them together. After reading NLE, this should have been obvious to you. Will they end up together in this fic? Probably, but not until it's closer to the end. 2: Since both Blaise and Draco know what they're talking about, they aren't going to mention every detail in their conversations. That wouldn't be Slytherin at all. As to whether they're having an evil plot, I thought it had already been vaguely established that the two of them were beginning to turn against their fathers. Think about what Draco said when Blaise approached him on the train. He was worried that other Slytherins would hear and turn them in. And Blaise suggested that they go to Dumbledore in Ch.5. I hope that clears it up a little. The rest will be revealed in approximately two chapters.
Now that I've taken care of that, I will introduce you to this Important!Chapter. Staring: Hermione, Blaise, Draco, and Harry. Cameos: Anthony Goldstein, Malcolm Baddock, Madame Pince?, others. Setting: Library. Summary: Ha, I can't believe you actually thought I would summarize this chapter before you read it! That's fairly gullible.
The Negative Side
A Different View
Professor Lupin had already given them three assignments, and it was becoming clear to Hermione that she would be spending a large portion of the year doing research and field work with Blaise Zabini. It was late in September, and they were once again in the library, sitting at Hermione's regular table, with seven separate books lying open and quills scratching across parchment.
They had worked out a way to do their homework without speaking to each other. They would split up the work between them, and each would work on their part, then they would combine them. This required no conversation and had worked well so far. Hermione favored it to any other method she could come up with.
Something was different on this particular day. She angled herself a bit more toward Blaise and started to catch the frequent glances he was throwing her. Soon, she was quite agitated, and snapped, "What?!"
Blaise looked up, surprised, and said, "What?"
Hermione huffed. "You've been all but staring at me for the past twenty minutes."
"Forty," he corrected matter-of-factly. He did not elaborate on this.
"Will you tell me why?"
"Your eyes look different," he said. Hermione had no response for this. It was true; she had used a deep green eyeliner, which placed some green in her eyes and made them look more intense. The fact that Blaise had been staring at her caught her off guard; the fact that he admitted it was even more disconcerting. Finally, she spoke.
"Oh."
She distinctly heard a soft laugh from Blaise. She glared at the index, in which she was supposed to be looking up countercurses for hexes that affected the skin. He spoke again, to her horror, after some time had lapsed. "It isn't a bad thing to be admired."
At this, she forgot completely about her work. "You were admiring me?" she repeated incredulously.
"Like I said," replied Blaise, "that's not a bad thing."
"It's not a common thing, either. Don't you remember who I am?"
Blaise laughed again, slightly louder this time. "Of course. But you've definitely put in the effort to make sure people notice you. You've obviously changed; why can't I?"
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again with a thoughtful look. That was a question she was not sure how to answer. There was obviously more of a story behind it, about how he saw her and what was happening in his own life. She wanted to ask, but did not want him to close up and refuse to tell her anything.
"So, why did you change?"
Hardly believing they were actually having a conversation, Hermione answered. "Have you ever witnessed a mid-life crisis?"
"Sure. My father had one two years ago. He had a new broom custom-made, renewed his vows to Voldemort, and went on a Death Eating spree."
She looked at him wide-eyed. "I thought you weren't allowed to say that your father was a…"
He shrugged. "It's not as though anyone doesn't know. Anyway, what was your point?"
"Er, my point…yes. That's sort of what I was going through. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship, and I…I suppose I just wanted a change. I was tired of being overlooked and scorned and-"
"A relationship?"
She shook her finger good-naturedly at him. "Oh, no. I am not saying another word about that."
"And you decided to become beautiful because of this one guy?"
Pushing aside the fact that Blaise had just called her beautiful, she said, "No, it wasn't him. It was the entire world, really. I have the best grades in the school, and I know I have good qualities. The ones who get all the attention, all the dates, are Lavender and Parvati. They aren't stupid, but they're a bit…ditzy. And you of all people know how people see Draco. If I became famous for inventing a spell to cure Cruciatus-incurred insanity, and Lavender became a model for Witch Weekly, she would be better known, the way it was before I changed."
Blaise's dark brown eyes were unreadable. "You just wanted to be noticed."
She nodded with a small smile. "I guess it worked."
Of all the people she could have chosen to spill her secret, she had to tell Blaise Zabini everything. He was known to be Draco's confidante, and that alone was reason enough to avoid speaking to him. She had told him things she would never have revealed even to Ginny.
Three fourth year Slytherins passed while in search for a few books, Malcolm Baddock in the lead. When they walked by again a few minutes later, Baddock sneered, "Careful, Zabini, don't let her touch you. You don't want to be tainted by a muddy bloody Mudblood." They all snickered loudly, to the disapproval of Madame Pince, who scolded them as she checked out their books. They all left looking sickeningly smug.
When she was sure they were gone, Hermione leaned on her arm, palm to forehead, and sighed in hurt annoyance. She hardly cared that Blaise would notice; she had just told him her second biggest secret. She turned her face toward him and found him watching her.
"You can't let a remark like that get to you," he objected reasonably, sounding an awful lot like Hermione telling Harry and Ron to ignore Draco. "It wasn't even clever."
She sighed. "I know. I'm just tired of it. I'm exhausted of this racism."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you remember in fourth year, when everyone found out that Hagrid was half-giant? It's like that. The people who didn't know him cared nothing for who he was. All they could see was half of what he was. It's wrong. This prejudice against Muggleborns is no different. It comes from what they've been taught by their parents all their lives. They're kept away from us for their entire childhood so they can't learn the truth until it's too late."
A short pause preceded Blaise's next question. "What truth is that?" His voice was soft and humming.
She looked him squarely in the eye. It hit her then how attractive he was, but she did not let that distract her. "That whether a witch or wizard has Muggle or magical parents, we're all the same."
Blaise turned his gaze to the books lying forgotten on the table. "Maybe we should finish this another time." When he said this, he was looking toward the library's entrance. Hermione looked up to find Anthony Goldstein walking toward her.
"I've been looking for you," Anthony said. "We've got some work to do. Are you incredibly busy?" His cheerful tone did not fit with what they had just been talking about.
"Er…" Hermione glanced at Blaise. "I suppose I can give you half an hour or so. We should work in the Great Hall. Meet me there in a few minutes?" Anthony nodded, then turned on his heel and walked out. Hermione began to gather her things, stuffing them into her bag. "Can we work tomorrow, Blaise?"
He did not answer her. Instead, he gently gripped her wrist to stop her from walking away. "Listen, I don't know what you think of me, but I don't see you as Muggleborn. I see you as Hermione Granger. And so does he."
"Who?" Hermione inquired. Blaise gestured toward a table behind her with his chin. She looked over her shoulder to where Harry and Draco had been sitting for the past ten minutes.
"Neither of us care about that," Blaise told her seriously.
"I really have to go," Hermione said. She did not want to talk about Draco. "Find me later and we'll plan a time to finish the assignment, all right?"
She left as quickly as she could, barely even noticing when she glanced back at her dark-haired Slytherin partner. The Great Hall and her duties as Head Girl awaited her.
With the Head Boy, she was beginning to lay out a plan for a Halloween Ball. She focused all her energy into planning, and still she was distracted. You've changed, why can't I? She was sure Blaise had been trying to tell her something with that question, especially when she considered the last thing he said to her. It seemed clear, or at least translucent, that he had no wish to follow Voldemort. Did that mean Draco didn't, either?
From what she had come to know of Draco, he had always been indifferent to Voldemort, and he had never cared about blood. That would not have made sense to Harry or Ron because of the way he had always acted, but it was the truth. He had told her a lot during their rendezvous. She assumed that Blaise still did not know about them, because he had thought it necessary to inform her about Draco's opinion. That was the only comfort she could see when she thought about herself and Draco. He had not told anyone.
Students began filing in for lunch. Anthony joined his friends at the Ravenclaw table, and Parvati sat down next to Hermione. "Hello," she said. "Something on your mind?"
Hermione looked at the pretty girl next to her. "Always," she replied, but she refused to say more.
Parvati glanced around them. "Say, do you know if Harry is seeing anyone?"
Hermione looked at her in surprise. "Not as far as I know. Harry very rarely keeps secrets, but he might be. I'd suggest you ask Ron. He'll know anything I don't."
"I already did," Parvati whined. "He wouldn't tell me anything. He just stuttered a lot and said I should ask you."
Hermione laughed as she remembered that there was food in front of her, and began to take a piece of steak and kidney pie. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I don't really know. Try your luck, flirt a bit."
Parvati brightened up. Flirting was something she was actually good at. "All right. Thanks, Hermione."
Instead of pointing out that she hadn't done anything, Hermione said, "You're welcome."
Parvati moved down the table to sit with Lavender. Ron arrived and sat next to Hermione. Harry was not far behind, and took a seat across from Ron. "How did it go with Malfoy?" Hermione asked, trying to sound innocent.
Harry faced her for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought, and shrugged. "Okay, I guess." He then proceeded to stare at his food.
What has Draco done now? Hermione desperately wanted to know.
Harry led his DADA partner to a table close to Hermione because he did not quite trust Blaise Zabini, and Hermione had a strange look on her face. Malfoy sat next to him instead of across, and Harry shook his head in irritation.
"Something wrong, Potter?" Malfoy asked. The absence of maliciousness in his voice was strange to Harry. The fact that the absence had been present all term was worse. He had no idea what to make of it.
A few minutes passed during which they studied silently. It was odd… was he feeling comfortable… with Malfoy? He dismissed the thought immediately, but it kept reappearing in his mind as he researched.
At last Harry was given a distraction that changed the way he saw Draco Malfoy forever. He had been watching Hermione with Blaise Zabini discreetly - or so he thought - since he and Malfoy had arrived. They had just been interrupted by Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione was readying herself to leave. Suddenly, Zabini took hold of her wrist. Harry made to stand and defend his friend, but something restrained him. He realized that Malfoy's hand on his shoulder was holding him in his seat.
"Leave them be," he said calmly.
"Hermione's my friend," Harry said, quietly but angrily. Malfoy had not loosed his grip.
"And Blaise is mine," replied Malfoy. "He's not doing anything against her honor, so let them alone."
"Why should I believe you?" demanded Harry.
Draco let go of Harry's shoulder, and turned his chair to face Harry at less of an angle to his neck. "If for a moment you could forget your Gryffindor-versus-Slytherin ways, you could easily see that I'm telling the truth." He indicated Hermione and Zabini with a slight nod.
Harry looked behind him, in much the same way as Hermione had glanced at him and Malfoy a moment earlier. She and Blaise exchanged some quiet words, she picked up her bag, and left. Blaise watched her go with hopeful pensiveness.
"What's going on?" Harry wondered in a low growl.
Draco laughed, to his surprise. "I'm sorry you're a Gryffindor, Potter."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, Gryffindors are not well known for being able to figure out the schemes of others. Take you, for instance. You were under the impression that Snape was trying to get the Sorcerer's Stone. You believed Crouch was really Moody and told him everything after he took you away from Dumbledore after you had reached the center of the maze. You let Voldemort trick you into thinking he had Black in the Department of-"
"How do you know all this?" asked Harry, having heard enough.
"My father, of course, and from what other students have said. I know far more than you would think," Malfoy said. "Allow me to give you some examples. I know that Voldemort wants to change the minimum age to become a Death Eater to seventeen. I know that he is thinking of altering the Dark Mark."
"Why are you telling me these things?" Needless to say, Harry was confused.
"Because I also know that I will never be a Death Eater."
Malfoy was looking at Harry, arms crossed, waiting for a reply. Harry sat silently, struck by what he had just been told. He had always assumed that Malfoy would follow in the footsteps of his father. Ron reinforced this at every turn, and Malfoy's own attitude had never done anything to refute it. "Wha- er-"
"Yes, quite articulate, Potter. That's a sure way to get a straight answer."
"Don't mock me, I'm just surprised," Harry snapped.
"Well, aren't we testy today?"
"We aren't anything, Malfoy. Anyway, why won't you be a…" He did not want to say the title. If Madame Pince heard them, they could get into trouble.
"Because they're changing the name." Harry looked at him witheringly. "I'm just joking, Potter, don't lose your skirt. I am not going to be a Death Eater because I do not believe what Voldemort and his followers believe, and I'm not afraid of anyone."
"You mean that some people join Voldemort because they're afraid of him," Harry clarified to himself.
Malfoy nodded. "There you go, you're catching on, Potter."
"Do you have to use my name so often?"
"What, you don't like your name?" Malfoy asked.
"It's not that, it's just tiresome, I guess. No one speaks like that, really."
"I do."
"Okay, will you just stop?"
"All right," conceded Malfoy. Again, Harry was stunned. Here was Draco Malfoy, being agreeable. No trace of malign intent in his gray eyes, nothing to suggest that he had some ulterior motive.
"I simply don't understand why you of all people would change your mind so suddenly."
"First, you don't know me, so don't presume to suggest such things. Second, I didn't change my mind. I never wanted to be a Death Eater."
"What? But- the insults, the taunting-"
"Kid stuff, Potter. I'm fairly surprised you took it so seriously."
Harry shifted in his seat. "You called Hermione a Mudblood."
"You don't understand the way things work when you're a Pureblood descendant of Dark Wizards. Word gets around how you act. Your parents find out. I wanted Lucius to have a certain impression of me."
"I thought you said you weren't afraid of anyone."
"I'm not," Draco enforced his previous statement.
"Then why would you care what he thinks of you?"
"Because if he knew that I wasn't of a like mind with him, he could cut me out of the family fortune. Money has always been important to Malfoys."
"I couldn't have guessed."
"We could do without the sarcasm. It doesn't suit you, anyway. Not Gryffindor enough."
"So, that's it? You don't want to have to make your own way, so you pretend to be an evil prat?" Harry queried.
"Thank you, Potter. I'm flattered. No, not exactly. Money gives you power. Lucius could sign off all his money to a younger Death Eater, or to Voldemort himself, in the event of his death, if he wanted to keep it away from me. I would rather I get that money than someone who will use it toward vicious ends."
Harry was once again speechless. He would never have suspected Malfoy of such noble intentions. "But you like being rich."
"Of course. Don't you?"
"I'm not rich," Harry denied automatically.
"Come off it, Potter. I know a thing or two about your parents. The Potters were another old Pureblooded family. I know that you were left piles of galleons to claim when you found out you were a wizard."
"Okay, you need to stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Stop knowing so much about me."
Malfoy's face remained blank. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Harry grimaced at him. "Fine."
To this, Malfoy said nothing. Harry thought that perhaps the surprising and confusing conversation was over; it seemed so for a while. Neither of them spoke, and their work was close to completion.
"Potter, do you understand what I'm saying?" Malfoy asked abruptly.
Harry looked up from his book. "You weren't saying anything."
"Not just now, before. About opposing Voldemort."
Harry did not answer immediately. Finally, he conceded, "Yes."
"Then you know that you can trust me," Malfoy continued. "Blaise as well. He doesn't think any more of Voldemort than I do."
"I don't know that. You're still a Slytherin."
"Salazaar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor were close friends," revealed Malfoy. "Were you aware of that?"
"But they fought all the time. Hermione said so."
"That doesn't mean a thing. Just that they did not agree very much."
Harry stared at him, waiting. What was he trying to say?
Malfoy soon answered the unspoken question. "We want to get out," he said simply.
"You and Zabini?"
"No, me and my owl. Of course Blaise and me."
"What about the rest of the Slytherins?"
"They don't know a thing," Malfoy assured him.
Harry was unsure whether he should believe Malfoy, but there were two things that kept him from dismissing him altogether. He was inclined to trust anyone who would speak with such conviction. He also knew that Hermione knew something about Malfoy. When Ron and Harry talked about what a prick he was, she argued gently that there were reasons for the way everyone acts. He had wondered before, but now he thought that perhaps Malfoy had said something to her.
"Come on, Potter. We're finished here, and it's time for lunch."
Thus, Harry dazedly followed Malfoy to the Great Hall. Having finished their lunch, Ron, Hermione, and Harry left the castle and took a walk to Hagrid's.
"But Hagrid won't even be there," Ron pointed out.
"We can wait for him in his cabin," Harry said. It was the most private place he could think of to have an important conversation. He knocked on the door, and when there was no answer, he pushed it open. The barking started up immediately.
"Hello, Fang," Harry greeted the huge dog, and ruffled his ears. Hermione and Ron each gave Fang a pat as well. Harry made sure the door closed behind them, then hung his head out the window, checking for spies. "No one's here."
Hermione was giving him a prodding look. "Is something wrong?"
"I need to talk to the two of you," he said quietly, "about Malfoy."
"I'm going to kill that bastard," Ron piped up.
"Ron, will you wait until I've actually talked?" Harry requested. He was fairly sure he did not want to be enemies with Malfoy anymore. Ron grumbled. "Thank you. All right, here's the thing. After you left the library, Hermione, he told me some very strange things."
"What did he say?" Hermione frowned. Harry knew that something had transpired between her and Zabini as well, which would inspire curiosity in her.
"Basically that he's on our side, but he's sort of in the middle of the Death Eaters. He seemed to be asking for our help."
Ron scoffed. "Yeah, right. Good luck to him."
"Ron, hang on a minute. What if you were in the same situation? Would you want everyone who could help you to just turn their back on you?" Hermione asked.
He blushed to the tips of his ears. "No, but we're not talking about me. This is Malfoy. He deserves whatever he gets."
"That's not fair, Ron. You hardly even know him," Hermione argued.
"What, and you do? You think he should be allowed to suddenly horn in on our lives and ask for favors after all he's done?"
Hermione looked down at the floor. Harry's eyes narrowed at her passive attitude as she mumbled, "Everyone deserves a second chance." He wondered if she was referring to someone else as well as Malfoy. She could even be speaking of herself. Someday soon, Harry would persuade Ginny to pry that secret out of Hermione.
"Malfoy's had plenty of chances."
"No, Ron. Hermione's right," Harry broke in. "If Malfoy needs our help to keep out of trouble for not becoming a Death Eater, then it's our duty to give it to him. I'll talk to him again, and find out what he's really trying to do."
Ron looked between him and Hermione. He sputtered for a moment, then burst in anger, "You can't be serious! You don't believe that he really cares about anyone but himself, do you?"
"Ye wouldn' be talking 'bout me, would ye?"
They all looked up to see Hagrid standing in the door. "Oh, hello, Hagrid. I hope you don't mind that we let ourselves in," Harry said, shooting the others a look of warning.
"No, no. Not at all. Ye know you three are always welcome 'ere."
They all smiled and took seats at the table.
…TBC…
When you review, keep in mind that OOC-ness is almost the entire point of this fic.
