Saints, Martyrs, and Sinners
Hermione grinned. Draco could be such a prat.
"Well, that's because no one is. No one is perfect; no one is a saint."
"Not even the members of the Golden Trio," he added absent-mindedly.
That was the second time he had referred to the "the Golden Trio." She knew very well who he was referring to, but it still hurt a bit. Ron, Harry, and herself were not a 'golden trio', let alone 'The Golden Trio' as if it some title to be earned. She had no idea where he had came up with that little insult of a nickname for her and her friends, but she didn't appreciate it. And she definitely didn't appreciate hearing it directly from him.
"As far as I know, we've never claimed to be saints either." She heard the slight edge to her voice, but she didn't try to remove it. She increased her speed and walked away from him.
"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Malfoy asked mockingly from behind her.
"No, you just walk slow," she called over her shoulder. The edge to her voice was ever present.
She could just feel his smug smirk as he said, "Saints normally don't choose to be viewed as such."
She didn't understand his comment. "Malfoy, just shut up." It was an unexpected command, but she meant it all the more. "You're not making sense," she added as an afterthought.
"Potter is seen as 'Saint Potter' in many parts of the Wizarding world," he stated blatantly as if that explained everything.
"Only to close minded people like you," she retorted. What was he getting at?
"No not really. Most see him as some kind of martyr, hero, and savior. A saint if you'll allow."
"That's not the point. Harry didn't choose to be who he is. He had no choice in what his future will hold, or what his past has held for him. He's not a saint, and he never claimed to be one." Defending Harry to Malfoy seemed like such a useless task, she couldn't see any point of continuing.
Malfoy wasn't even trying to catch up to her. He was leisurely walking at his own pace behind her, as if trying to not be seen with her. But he was still carrying on his ridiculous conversation with her.
"You're not a saint either," she accused in a dark tone.
Draco smirked behind her back. "I never claimed to be a saint. Actually, if I claim to be anything, I claim to be a sinner. You know what they say, don't you?"
He paused and waited for her to respond.
She sighed. "No, what do they say?" she relented.
"The apple never falls far from the tree."
Granger swung around, her wand was now out.
"What the hell?" Draco asked, confused.
"Well--" she stammered. "Your father killed someone then you said... I just thought... I--"
"I don't even have a wand, Granger. I can't hurt you," Draco interjected angrily.
She put her wand back in her robes. "I'm sorry. I know that."
"You should know that," Draco spat at her, "You have my wand."
"I know," she stressed, hopelessly. He could see she was genuine sorry, or just good at acting it.
"Fine. All I meant was I wasn't a saint because neither of my parents were. It's simple. Don't read so much into it from now on," he added roughly.
Hermione felt terrible. Here Malfoy was without his wand, and she was taking simple words as threats. It hadn't even been a threat in the first place. She had no reason to feel threatened by his words; his tone hadn't even been the least bit threatening.
They had been having an actual conversation (sure, they weren't agreeing exactly, but they weren't downright fighting either.) and she went and offended him. She didn't really know what to say. "I'm sorry," she repeated softly.
"Well, you're parents aren't saints either," he said. It was clear he was purposing misunderstanding her apology.
She chose not to correct him. "No one is a saint," she repeated.
The more she repeated it, the more she believed it. The statement was very true indeed. No one was perfect and if someone claimed to be, they were lying to themselves as well as everyone else. She never felt as though she was saint. Actually, she always felt quite inadequate. She knew she was book smart, but she didn't have much when it came to being street savvy. She even misunderstood intent of simple words. But she never felt as though she was a downright sinner, until now that is. Suddenly, Malfoy made her feel so inadequate and wrong.
Malfoy had a way of making her feel things she didn't like.
"Repeat that again and I think I'll scream," Malfoy warned from behind her.
She grinned. So simply repeating the same thing over and over was a way to annoy him. Good to know, she thought.
"Saints and martyrs, is that what you really want to be around anyway?" Malfoy mused aloud.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"Well, if we were all surrounded by saints and martyrs, we'd feel like sinners constantly. Like everything we did was wrong. We'd never be good enough for those around us." Something in his voice made Hermione think he knew how this felt firsthand.
Hermione thought on this for a moment. "You're right, of course," she agreed. "But then again, maybe being surrounded by saints and martyrs would make us strive to be more than we already are."
"It could. Or it could make us so depressed we don't even strive to really live anymore," he replied.
The silence that followed his awkward answer was an uncomfortable one. Hermione didn't know what to say. If he had ever felt that way, she found she was sad, but if he hadn't and was pulling things out of thin air, he had won the verbal battle. But she didn't know what he meant, and she didn't know which it was.
"Well, if we don't strive to live anymore, then there would be no point on thinking we are nothing but sinners. There would be no point to thinking someone else was better than us too. I mean, if someone doesn't want to live anymore, what's the point of caring about everyone else?"
"Good point," Malfoy agreed. Suddenly, he was right next to her. Close as he ever was. She could even feel the heat of his body. "I guess we're just damned if we do and damned if we don't," he added softly.
