Ch. 4 - Lost in Thought

Hermione yawned loudly as Parvati shook her, roughly. "Come on Hermione. Get up." Hermione hadn't slept much and was utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. Through the open window, the sun shone down brightly on her bed, and she rubbed her eyes trying to cling onto the last fragments of some dream she'd been having. It was useless to try to remember, even though the overall sentiments remained. She wasn't very surprised that the lingering impressions of her dream reflected her confusion from last night. She couldn't help treating Draco Malfoy's mysterious behavior like an unsolved Arithmancy problem. And try as she might, she couldn't find the answer.

She had stayed in the meadow long after he left last night, entranced by the phenomenon that was Draco Malfoy. Although she certainly grieved for his lamentable upbringing, her pity was quite detached. After all these years, Hermione's sympathy and compassion regarding Malfoy was limited. She didn't really believe he could ever be saved. No matter how painful and sad his life could be, the boy honestly wanted to be Draco Malfoy. And nothing short of Voldemort's defeat and his family and friends's complete decimation would change that.

But this side of him fascinated her nonetheless. The raw thick emotion that radiated from him was inordinately poignant. In truth it was overwhelmingly intoxicating because it was so foreign in him. She knew that she had stumbled on his private abode. It wasn't as though he revealed this side of himself to her out of any bond between them. She had merely collided into him in the right place at the right time. Or wrong, perhaps. But she couldn't forget the sorrow in his eyes and the grief in his voice, and for the life of her she couldn't label its cause. It was maddening. Of course, Malfoy had reason to be in pain. More reason than most in fact. But Hermione didn't think that the causes which inspired pity in her, had much to do with Malfoy's suffering. Malfoy relished in his family, his station, and his situation in life. He'd never really been very hard to read, or so she had thought. It was those remembered eyes which were so exasperating because they possessed a depth Hermione had never expected in Malfoy. Funny, but no matter how she tried to approach things rationally and without bias, she had never really imagined that Malfoy could feel loneliness.

A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. "What has you so done in? You're usually the first one up in the mornings. Late night?" Parvati raised her eyebrows mischievously and looked around the room to make sure no one was listening. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you've up and been shagged. Alright, well. Who's the lucky boy? It wasn't Weasley, was it? If it was, don't tell me. It's in the friendship contract with Lavender to inform her if I know that her boyfriend cheats. Though ... I might actually be able to keep a secret to save my best friend a little heartache..."

Hermione rolled over to face away from her roommate with an exasperated groan and firm rebuttal. Parvati just laughed, "Yeah, I guess Ron is a bit too hardheaded and emotionally thick to even figure out what he wants. Don't you ever dare tell Lav I said that! Anyways, you should probably just give up on him." Parvati winked at Hermione. "Besides, it's not as though there aren't a lot of other cute boys in this castle. And you, missy, are in the best position to lay claim to Hogwarts's most eligible bachelor!" Parvati lightheartedly grumbled in pretend jealousy.

Hermione chortled and half-joked, "As though there's anything to envy. I have absolutely no intentions on that man. Harry's a right pain as it is. Can you even imagine how much worse he'd be as a boyfriend? Talk about high maintenance. Hah! I worry enough about him as it is!" They both giggled, and if any of her male acquaintances had seen her then, they never would have known Hermione.

The laughter died down as the girls got up to get ready for school, leaving a lingering warmth throughout the dormitory. But as Hermione got up to get dressed, a wisp of her dream reasserted itself and a few tendrils of anguish and regret clung to her. It wasn't until she joined Harry at the bottom of the stairs to go to breakfast that she was able to fully extricate herself from its clutches.

At breakfast, her eyes bored into the side of his head watching his every reaction and subtly trying to probe into the deeper side of Draco that only she had seen. Yet last night was an eternity away. There were no apparent similarities between this arrogant and spiteful boy and the desperate man of the night before. Though the more she delved into behavior, she saw the many insecurities evinced throughout his years of schooling -- the same insecurities he had boldly expressed last night.

But back in the glade, it had been as though Draco had nothing else to lose, and that certainly wasn't true now. Though his father and family had fallen in the eyes of the world, Draco had hardly seemed aimless this year. Harry might be obsessing about Draco's schemes and importance in the fight with Voldemort, but Draco certainly believed the same. However that, too, was hardly new. Draco had always believed in his own importance, in spite of all else. And there lay the root of her inquiries. Last night Draco had hardly seemed to exhibit self-importance. It was as though he wanted to not be identified or special, and as ironic and appalling as it might seem, in that instance, he reminded her of Harry.

"Hermione!" Ginny practically shouted. "Whatever has gotten into you? You haven't said a word all meal." Hermione snapped to attention and joined their conversation. Harry had once again been concocting various possible schemes that he thought Malfoy might be up to, and Ginny had gotten Hermione's attention in an effort to divert the topic of discussion. As Harry gazed over to the Slytherin table, eyes full of contempt, Ginny pleaded with Hermione to distract him. She followed Harry's gaze just as Draco glanced up at them, and she thought - as Draco's eyes met hers - that they shone with greater hatred than she had ever seen in them. She looked at Harry and knew that he probably attributed Draco's look to another nefarious scheme.

"Hey Harry, how's Quidditch going lately?" Everyone, including Harry, turned to Hermione in awe. When had she ever cared about Quidditch. Quickly, however, everyone realized her less than subtle ploy at grabbing Harry's attention, and the Griffindor table emitted a string of laughs.

"Come on, it's time to go to class anyways. Ginny, what's your first class?"