"He's lying."

"Maybe," Hermione half-heartedly agreed, distracted.

Harry looked up at this, catching her attention.

"No. No 'maybe'. He is lying," he forcefully said.

Hermione sighed. She too had considered the possibility that Malfoy was indeed lying. However, she couldn't exactly figure out what reason he would have to lie. Malfoy was never one to hide his bigotry and play nice for the sake of being polite. He had no qualms about being an insufferable arse, so there was no valid reason other than genuine regret as to why he would suddenly change his tune, and this was what she told Harry.

"I'm going to pretend like you didn't just say that as if our entire conversation on the train yesterday never happened."

"You already know how I feel on the matter," was her reply.

"Yes, a naïve stance, really," he said.

She made a face at him, opting to try and focus on her book.

"Blimey. I still can't believe that you'll be living with him this year. I mean, I'm happy for you, because we all know how much you've wanted it, but… Is it worth it if you have to put up with Malfoy?"

"Well…" she flipped the page "…if he is indeed being truthful, then I'll have no trouble from him, and if he's not…at least I'll have my own room."

Harry snorted, clearly disagreeing with either her comment about Malfoy's apology, or her logic.

"Did you see that we have potions with Slytherin?"

"Thanks for the reminder, mate. I was doing a good job so far of forgetting about it," Harry complained as Ron sat down.

"Apologies. At least the upside is that we don't have to put up with Snape and Slytherin. Slughorn's teaching the class," Ron replied.

"Perhaps, Hermione can partner up with her new friend, and the two of them can leave the rest of us idiots in the dust," Harry mumbled.

Hermione set her book down, looking at Harry in disbelief, taken aback by his immaturity.

"What's he on about?"

Hermione had just opened her mouth to answer when Harry cut in.

"It seems that Malfoy has apologized to Hermione, wanting to wipe the slate clean and start over as friends," the sarcasm and mocking tone was heavy in this one.

Ron barked out a laugh, clearly thinking Harry to be joking, only settling down when he noticed the hard look on Hermione's face.

"Wha- Hermione. He can't be serious," he chuckled.

"There was never once a talk of becoming friends, Harry. I do believe I specifically said 'a year of getting along'. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Uh…yeah. The fact that you think he's telling the truth, for one," Ron threw in.

"Whether or not he's telling the truth will be revealed in due time-."

"I think Malfoy is the last person you want to give the benefit of the doubt to, Hermione," Harry interrupted.

Hermione paused, closing her eyes and repressing a sigh before beginning to collect her things.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"To finish my book in my dorm," was her answer.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione. You can't seriously be getting upset with us because we're not buying into Malfoy's crap?"

"It's not about that, Harry. It's about the fact that you're handling this very immaturely. What's the point of growth and change if you aren't going to acknowledge it? Sure, Malfoy may be lying, that's actually very likely, but he's always been nothing more than a bully. I seriously doubt that giving him the benefit of the doubt is going to put me at Voldemort's feet."

She didn't give either one of them time to reply, leaving the table in a flurry.

Hermione quite liked their dorm room and knew that it wouldn't be long before she preferred to spend most of her time on the comfy couch. It was round with a fireplace, bookshelf, and door opposite the portrait entrance. Her room was located on the left with Malfoy's set directly across from hers. The center of the room was occupied by a table and several places to sit including a couch, chase lounge, a single chair, and several cozy cushions that molded around one's body.

It was comfortable and most of all, quiet.

She didn't mean to leave Ron and Harry in such a huff, but they were making her feel…silly for not immediately dismissing Malfoy's apology. She was smart yes, but book smarts didn't necessarily have anything to do with judging one's character. Hermione actually considered herself to be a pretty good judge of character. Either way, it didn't matter. Time would tell if Malfoy was being sincere or not.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, she thought as the entrance opened, and the object of her thoughts stepped inside. Hermione was honestly unsure of how to act around him, but since they only intended to be civil to one another, she didn't think that meant she needed to initiate conversation. She lowered her eyes just as he turned around and went back to reading her book.

She hid her surprise well as he sank into the chair to the right of the couch before pulling out his own book and a few pieces of parchment. Perhaps he meant what he said, after all. Familiar mocking laughter infiltrated her brain immediately after that thought, the sound of Harry and Ron's voices calling her a fool.

"I'm surprised you aren't with your friends," he commented, distracted.

She cast her gaze on him to watch him alternate between reading and jotting stuff down.

"I wasn't really up for discussions about Quidditch and the like," she lied.

A small smirk danced along his lips, visible even with his head down, as if he somehow knew that she was lying. He didn't reply, and Hermione figured that was the end of that. However, it wasn't long before she realized that she was reading the same three sentences over and over. Her index finger had begun to tap the hard back cover of her book, mind going in circles. Eventually, she gave up and set her book down on the table, catching Malfoy's attention.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Malfoy glanced up and set his own book down, and the parchment with it, leaning back in his chair as he gave her his undivided attention. Hermione swallowed, unused to his unwavering gaze without some sort of malice on the receiving end of it.

"Yesterday evening…when you spoke of superior people who don't go beyond the bare minimum and all that… What exactly did you mean? Were you being specific or…?"

Malfoy shifted, throwing one ankle up to rest on his knee before clasping his hands together in his lap. He held her gaze for a moment, not uttering a word as they regarded one another. Eventually, his smirk grew, and he spoke.

"I think you know exactly what I meant…"

Hermione didn't respond, and so he continued.

"Why should someone be considered better than others simply because they say they are, or simply because of what family they were born into? Look at Crabbe and Goyle…" he sneered, and Hermione snorted "…they can barely tell magic from Santa Claus."

She nodded in agreement.

"I hate to bring your friends into this, but look at Weasley too. All three are examples of wizards who come from pureblood families, but can hardly execute a simple levitating spell. It's embarrassing, a stain on the Pureblood legacy," he complained, top lip curling over his teeth.

Hermione didn't want to insult Ron, he was her friend, but he was a far cry from a prodigy.

"…and then we have witches like you," he whispered.

Hermione looked up, catching his gaze, something unfamiliar and intense resting there.

"Both of your parents are muggles, and yet, you're probably one of the most skilled witches to walk these corridors," he confessed with a frown.

Hermione flushed in a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Never did she ever think she'd see the day where Draco Malfoy admitted that she was a talented witch.

"Sure, I mean-."

"We both know that it's true. Feigned humility doesn't suit you, Granger. You're one of the best, and you know it," he cut in.

Hermione reluctantly nodded, unsure of how to respond.

"I used to really hate you, you know. Being second best was foreign to me, and your parentage only made it that much worse since, according to my father, I should be better than you in every conceivable way."

"I-," Malfoy waved away whatever she was going to say, already moving on.

"It doesn't matter, now. He was…he's a fool," he finally said.

Hermione leaned forward in her seat, book completely forgotten, now.

"What…what brought all of this on, if you don't mind my asking?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes drinking her in in a way that made her feel…warm.

"I am a pureblood, you are a Muggleborn witch, and we are the top two students in this bloody school. That simple fact was enough to make me realize one day that what my father believed in was a crock of shit," he finally said.

Once again, Hermione didn't know what to say. Malfoy leaned his head back, letting it rest on the back of the chair, eyes focused on the ceiling.

"There's no such thing as Purebloods vs Half-Bloods vs Muggleborns, Granger. In this world, there are wolves, and then there are sheep. Alphas and omegas. There are those who were born to lead, and those born to follow, and we…" he suddenly gestured to himself and to her frozen form "…were never born to follow. We're leaders, you and I, the true definition of intellectual superiority."

~SD~