Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. Some quotes were taken from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (the scene reminiscing 3rd year).
Chapter 8
She walked into the common room then, Draco looking shocked that she might have been there the entire time, and asked, "Why did you do that? Why did you defend me Draco?"
Gazing into the fireplace, he said with a forced casualness, "It's nothing to do with you. That Lavender was getting on my nerves."
"Liar."
She could see something flicker in his eyes, before he schooled his expression into one of neutrality once more, "No I'm not. I am their leader, and I was losing my authority. I had to get it back. Can you imagine a leadership where one's intentions are constantly questioned? And you must admit, she is a big pain in the arse."
She looked up at him resolutely, and asked again, "Then why do you help me every night? Why do you stay with me, hold my hand?"
She could see him begin to tense, and he ground out, "Like I said. I am the leader here. I have a duty to help heal you."
"I don't believe you," she retorted. "Go hold the hand of George then if you want to be a bleeding saint!"
She did not know why she pressed him so, when it was so clear that he wanted to avoid the question so badly.
She continued on doggedly, "Why did you save me then? Why was I kept at your room?"
He gave a frustrated sigh and growled, "This is none of your business! I don't have to account myself to you!"
She rounded on him, "Oh yes it is my business! It involves me! It is every bit my business!"
He seemed edgy, nervous, and oddly, frightened all at the same time, "Just leave it alone, okay Granger? You don't want to know!"
"No I won't!" She yelled. "Why did you save me Malfoy!" and then, without even realizing, she slipped out, "Why did you give me your shower?"
He spoke without thinking, "Because I said I'd look out for you." Realizing what he had just revealed, he turned abruptly and walked out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.
And just like that, it all clicked together for Hermione. She realized, with a sudden clarity the answer to all her questions.
In 3rd year, when her mountainous workload and stressful research for Buckbeak's case had made her a taut string ready and wanting to snap at any time; when she had just endured a torturous period of being ignored and hated by both Harry and Ron; when all she wanted to do was scream and yell and cry all at once.
She had just found out from Hagrid that Buckbeak had lost the case when she heard the derisive drawl of Malfoy who was gloating, "Have you ever seen anything quite so pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!" She had been so furious, so enraged, and so livid. She thought that she had never hated anyone so much in her entire life. She had rushed at him and slapped him with all the strength she could muster.
He had not reacted, nor did he retaliate. He had merely looked at her with a strange expression, as if seeing her for the very first time. Muttering to Crabbe and Goyle, he turned and left.
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In 4th year, after the incident at the Quidditch World Cup Finals in the Summer, when he had oddly warned her about the Death Eaters; when all she understood about the warning was his reminder that she was a mudblood, an equal target for people like him and not welcome or accepted in Wizarding society.
It was a beautiful spring day, and she was walking out of the Great Hall, in the crush of all the other students streaming out with her, when she suddenly felt as though she were rooted to the spot and unable to move. She surged forward again experimentally, grimacing as she was still somehow stuck, when she heard a shout of laughter behind her. She turned around, and there was Malfoy, holding on to the large knapsack that she carried on her shoulders. His eyes danced amusedly, as she rolled her eyes and shot at him sarcastically, "Oh, how clever." He let go and clapped the backs of his cronies, his laughter echoing across the halls as she walked towards the library.
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In 5th year, when all was still normal, when the golden trio were still intact and all they cared about was how to stop the evil git Malfoy and his "Weasley is Our King" chants. She was in Arithmancy class waiting for the Professor to begin the lesson.
"Granger," Malfoy whispered. Hermione had not heard him and continued going over her notes with her usual single-minded intensity.
"Hey…did you do the reading about the differentials? I thought it was pretty difficult. What do you think?" She looked up finally, stared at him, figured he could not be talking to her in such a civilized manner and that his question was probably aimed at Blaise Zabini sitting on the other side of her, and looked down at her notes again.
Malfoy tensed, whispering again, "Hey did you hear me?" She looked up at him again, staring incomprehensibly, not saying a word. He gazed at her intently, as if expecting something from her. Finally, he hissed, obviously unhappy, "Fine, whatever, forget it Mudblood." She had not understood anything else about the situation except the word 'mudblood', and so she shot him a look of pure hate, not seeing the flash of distress on his finely schooled features as he turned around in the chair to face the front.
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Seventh year, when all had gone to the dogs, and when the war brimming outside had forced all Hogwarts students who had not already joined the dark lord to band together and form a truce between the houses.
She was walking quietly and a bit awkwardly in the snow alongside Draco Malfoy, who was headed in the same direction as she. He kept stealing glances at her, as if working up the courage to do something. She stared suspiciously out the corner of her eye, as while he was for sure on the good side, there was still no love lost between the ferret and the golden trio. "Granger," he drawled, unconvincingly trying to sound casual, "wouldn't it be funny if the two of us started to hold hands while we walked? Nobody would believe it." He offered his arm to her while still gazing at her with a goofy grin on his face. She had looked at him incredulously, utterly shocked and not knowing what to say. Finally, she said, "Um, well I don't think so Malfoy…" and had walked ahead on her own, deciding, as she pushed open the door into the castle, to put out of her head altogether his strange gesture back there in the cold tundra.
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Graduation, when the release of the house elves by Dumbledore and their increasing lack of resources meant that some of the former prefects had to help out serving the food to the graduating seniors at the graduation lunch. The fare was simple, as was the ceremony, but Dumbledore had been adamant that even the War would not stop him from allowing the seventh years this special day.
She was standing with a row of other prefects at one of the long benches, ladling out the food in the tray in front of her to the queuing students. She had looked up from her duty only to find Malfoy fixing his eyes on her. "So, Granger, this is graduation huh? Looks more like refugees getting served rations."
She had rolled her eyes, defending Dumbledore and the measures he had to take, "Well at least we are getting a graduation ceremony right? Dumbledore has done the best he can, with what little resources we have now." She then noticed that he had cocked his head while she was talking, staring at her mouth.
"What?" She had asked self-consciously. "What is it?" Then he had reached out to her face, even as she leaned back away from his touch. He put his hand down abruptly. "Here, have Weasel get it for you. You have a spot of rice at the side of your mouth." He walked away as Ron turned and absent-mindedly brushed the offending piece of food away.
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A year after graduation, when all the students were still camped in Hogwarts, planning their moves and fighting the evil forces of Voldemort.
She and he were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for the arrival of the others to start planning their mission. Theirs was a comfortable silence, as working together several times in the past had strengthened her trust in him and diffused whatever hatred she once held for him. They were still not friends though, and so she started slightly when he began to talk to her, "So…Granger. How come I don't see you at the weekly parties anymore?" He was referring to the parties Dumbledore had implemented for everyone at the Great Hall once a week, citing the need for students to 'relax once in a while and forget about the madness and insanity that was the War. Also, socializing never hurt (insert eye twinkle here).'
"Oh, well…sometimes I go. But sometimes I like to spend the night when everyone else is away to read in quiet in the common room."
He had looked at her disbelievingly, "Granger, don't tell me you were studying. We have graduated you know. Dumbledore has said that those nights are for relaxation so you really should also stop any researching you were doing for another time."
"I know Malfoy. Well, I'm not reading textbooks if that's what you're asking. I've been reading…fiction and philosophy. Fantasy books, mostly, Tolkien amongst some of them. Also Durkheim, Kant, and deBeauvoir. I find it rather stimulating and relaxing at the same time." Her tone had gotten slightly bright at the mention of her favourite books.
"So you like the quiet, huh? And reading." Malfoy said softly, almost to himself, as if he were storing this information away for later use.
They had not seen Harry melt away from the shadows to stand in front of them, eyes hard and voice stern. "What are you doing Malfoy?"
Draco had stood up, saying a bit too defensively, "I'm not doing anything."
"Yes you were." Harry had said, brusquely. "You'd better stop whatever you think you're doing. I look out for her you know!"
And Draco had stepped forward, till he was eye to eye with Harry, standing not a hair's breadth away. "I look out for her too." Then he walked away and left the room, never coming back for their meeting.
