Shades of Grey
Chapter Six: The Book
"The books that help you most are those which make you think the most."
- Theodore Parker
Camping with Granger was certainly…interesting, to say the very least. There was never really a doubt in his mind that she was going to be a difficult person to live with, and with each passing hour he spent with the petite Witch, he found his assumption to prove truer than before. Their first full day on the campsite, he'd managed to get a rise out of her concerning dinner—it was a trivial matter, really, of who would hunt and who would cook, but with Granger, even the simplest of tasks became the most difficult.
"I don't bloody care who you think you are, Malfoy; you don't get to choose who does what all the time!" She'd shrieked, and Draco recalled finding amusement in the way her hair viciously bobbed about her face. If he wasn't so bloody pissed with her all the time, he might have even found these instances comical.
Everything turned into an argument for them—who slept on what cot, who would keep watch while the other went and changed, where they'd bathe. Anything they could find reason to take opposing sides on, they would. Draco knew he was being ridiculous; knew that Granger was being immature as fuck, but the fact of the matter was that their bickering felt too much like home. It was natural for them—it was the only kind of sanity he had in this fucked up situation.
It was as he watched Granger prepare a fire for the evening that he realized what it was he found so peculiar about her; about their circumstances. Fighting with Hermione Grangerhad become a safety net for him—it was familiar and comforting in a world where nothing made sense. He could spend hours trying to figure out how he'd come to be one of Potter's tools in the War against the Dark Arts, or try and analyze the situations he often found himself stuck in, but at the end of the day, he still had this small fragment of his former life that he could thrive in. His relationship with Granger was like holding a shard of glass in his hands; it was delicate and intriguing, but if he wasn't careful, the very thing that preoccupied him could also harm him. It could destroy him.
Granger was growing tired of their games; it was clear that she'd managed to struggle free from the safety net both had been encased in for so long, and Draco knew that if he wasn't careful, the remnants of his glass world would shatter.
"Are you sure you even brought us to the right bloody place?" Draco asked her one evening, glancing at her with curiosity as she placed a fish they'd caught from the river onto an iron pan she'd somehow managed to stuff in that charmed purse of hers. She didn't bother to dignify his question with a response—not immediately, at least. She rolled her eyes and pressed her lips together so tightly that all the color vanished from her mouth, causing her to turn a sickly shade of white. She leaned forward, holding the pan over the fire and shaking it slightly, hearing the fish sizzle in the pan.
"I'm trying the best I can, Malfoy," She snipped irritably, and Draco stretched his limbs, preparing for another fight. "It wouldn't kill you to help out, you know."
"Help out?" Draco snarled, his nostrils flaring and his lip curling up into a vicious snarl. He looked like an animal, more than likely, with the inhumane scowl he'd managed to muster up for her. She always did know how to bring out the worst in him.
"Who do you think built the fucking tent in the first place?" He spat, waving an arm in the direction of the elaborate tent that had maintained a sturdy structure since he'd first built it a few days prior.
"Oh, I'm sure it's so difficult to pull out your wand and wave it around a few times!" Hermione spat in response, and Draco noted that her hand was shaking slightly. He huffed in annoyance but fell silent, digging the tip of his brown loafer into the soft ground. He grit his teeth together and glared at the roaring fire before him, feeling its warm heat soak into his bones, warming the chill that nearly always occupied him.
"I don't know why you feel as though you need to take the credit for everything," Hermione continued, shaking her head slightly. She finally lifted her brown orbs from the food cooking over the fire to settle on his, glancing him up and down once with disapproval. Draco felt angered by her scrutiny and sat taller, throwing his shoulders back and glaring at her with as much malice as he could muster in that moment.
"I don't know why you feel the need to be such a know-it-all bitch, but I suppose there are things we'll never know about one another," He spat in retort, and Hermione blinked twice, evidently startled by his response.
"Why are you such an impossible human being?" She shrieked, standing up and setting the pan to the side. Draco, not wishing to appear intimidated by a Witch nearly a head shorter than him, stood up and stepped forward, disregarding the fire burning so close to them.
"I guess you bring out the best in me, Granger," He sneered, smirking at her cruelly. He watched as the fire danced and reflected in her light brown eyes, and noted that her face had grown cold. She stared at him for a few more minutes before finally huffing in defeat, shoving past him and picking up the pan. She turned around and angrily busied herself with dishing out the portions, turning around and shoving his plate in his face.
"There—you're welcome," She hissed, taking her own plate of food and storming off towards the tent. Draco watched her as she left, rolling his eyes at the fact that she had to be so damn dramatic about everything. In all the time he'd known her, Draco couldn't ever recall her getting so frustrated with him all the time. Then again, they'd never spent such a long frame of time isolated together, and he supposed that was where most of her anger derived from. Merlin knew that's why he harbored most of his resentment as of late.
Sighing, he pulled out his wand and extinguished the fire, following her inside. There was no use in eating alone if she wasn't there for him to bother; not really, anyways. He opened the flap of the tent and stepped inside, spotting her at the table and moving to sit across from her. The maps they'd been studying were spread out across the long table, and Draco gently moved them to the side as he sat down, noticing how intently Granger was ignoring him. It was comical, in a way—she was struggling so damn hard.
He noticed that she was reading again, with the cover of a book he didn't recognize folded over. His eyes flickered over to the end of the table and spotted the books they'd purchased in the bookshop, and suddenly he grew curious as to what it was she was reading. His memory served to remind him that she'd been reading a book of sorts in a similar fashion that morning in the Muggle inn, and Draco couldn't help but think that she was being oddly secretive about revealing the content of the book.
He attempted to sneak a peek at the cover, but it was folded over so craftily, that the only way he'd be able to see it was if he bloody ripped the blasted thing from her hands. He picked up his fork and slowly cut into his fish, bringing a bit to his lips and chewing slowly. He heard the rustling of paper and noted that Granger had flipped a page, licking her lips as she swallowed part of her meal. She'd cut into a decent amount of it by now, and Draco feigned a stretch. He leaned forward discreetly, struggling to make out the words on the paper. Perhaps it was a book on insults—Merlin knew she needed some brushing up on the subject. Though, admittedly, he doubted Granger would ever possess something with such content.
Maybe, he mused to himself as he forked a bit of fish into his mouth and bit down, retching slightly at the salty taste of it, it was a romance novel. Witches were into that, weren't they? It certainly would make more sense as to why she was hiding it from him—Draco couldn't help but smirk at the thought of Granger engrossing herself in a naughty and steamy little book full of cheesy and disgusting romantic plots that not even the most sentimental of blokes could come up with. However, the only words Draco was able to pick up from the page the bushy-haired Witch had delved herself into was something that appeared to be a name—"Boo Radley". Draco frowned slightly, deciding that it was a wretched name to give a character for a romance novel, and scraped his fork against the plate. Hermione gave a soft sigh and shoveled another bit of the small fish into her mouth, flipping the page and clearing her throat once she'd swallowed.
He could always ask her, he supposed, though he had an inkling she'd come up with the same vague, irritating response—"just some light reading". He couldn't seem to figure out why it meant so much to him regarding what the Mudblood read; it wasn't as if he gave a shit about her interests or wished to seek a reason to start a conversation with her.
And why should he care, really? Let Granger go off into her own loony world and live in a land where people actually gave a fuck about what happened to her kind and praised House Elves like they were fucking Ministry Officials.
That settles it, He decided firmly as he settled back into the hard bench. I'm not going to bother to guess anymore; I don't care.
Smirking triumphantly at his resolution, he cut into his over-dried fish and chewed thoroughly, snickering under his breath. His cocky behavior got him some attention, for he noticed Granger's eyes sliding from the book to him, one hand holding the novel in place, and the other gripping her fork tightly.
"And what, may I ask, is so comical?" She asked dryly. Draco merely shrugged, yet she continued to glare at him.
"You wouldn't get it," He answered finally with a shrug, jabbing the last bit of fish with his fork and eating it. His face contorted into mild repulsion when a pocket of salt burst in his mouth and he smacked his lips together, setting the fork down immediately.
"Do you think you could've cooked a shittier fish, Granger?" He spat accusingly, rubbing the back of his hand against his lips. Hermione, aggravated by this insult, slammed her book shut and set it on her lap before Draco was able to get a good look.
"I'm not a bloody cook, Malfoy!" She shrieked, and Draco fought back a laugh as he noticed her hair was doing that odd thing where it bounced and frizzed around her face the angrier she got.
"No argument there," He responded simply, pushing his plate away and yawning.
"Look, if you're so bloody set on criticizing the way I do things, then do them yourself!" She yelled, moving to stand. She snatched her fork and plate off the table, tucking her book under her arm. She made time to glare at his dirty dish before stomping over to the other side of the tent.
"And put your damn dishes away; I'm not your maid!" She yelled in addition, and Draco heard the clatter of dishes as she no doubt angrily scrubbed away her resentment. The pale-haired ex-Slytherin managed a scowl when she wasn't looking, shoving away from the table and snatching his dishes up. He stalked over to the other side of the tent, where the sink was, and shoved her to the side. He yanked the hose from the faucet and furrowed his brows together, grabbing the sponge and scrubbing his dish.
"Malfoy!" Granger huffed angrily, using all of her body weight to shove him. "Wait your turn!" She struggled to snatch the hose from his hands, but Draco merely yanked harder on it, moving away from her. He was preparing to go back to cleaning his plate when he suddenly felt a bushy-haired force slam against him, and a small "oomph" escaped his lips as she wrenched the spout free from his hand. There was a squeal that emanated from the petite Witch as she struggled to grip the hose, and soon the water squirted all over Draco's face and down the front of his shirt.
There was a moment of silence as Granger pulled her thumb off the handle of the faucet, and the water ceased to run. Her eyes widened as she took in his soaked shirt and the water dripping from the tips of his white blonde hair, and her mouth opened into a small "o" as she sized him up. He managed to glare at her, his chest heaving slightly, and an excruciatingly long bit of silence lapsed between the pair before Granger let out a shrill shriek of laughter and doubled over, placing her palms against her thighs for support as she shook.
"You look—you look ridiculous!" She gasped between laughs, and Draco watched as her bushy hair fell and shook around her face. Draco felt a rush of adrenaline course through him and he growled in response to her jesting, reaching forward and wrenching the water spout from her hands. He turned the hose towards her and clicked the switch just in time for her to lift her head. There was a brief moment of shock that occupied her features before the water shot at her face, and she gasped and sputtered, holding her hands up in a futile attempt to block herself from the line of fire.
"Malfoy!" She cried, but Draco struggled to make out whether she was more amused than angry as she lunged forward. The ground was slick with spilt water and she tumbled forward, falling and causing a stunned Draco to stagger backwards, and they fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Without thinking about their compromising position, Hermione snatched the hose from his hands and turned it towards him, turning the spout on full blast and laughing as he sputtered and gasped for breath. The drenched, pale-haired Malfoy once again groped for the hose, squirting her with the water once more and laughing at how completely and utterly astonished she looked.
It wasn't until the hose had fallen from his hands and cascaded to the ground with a dull thud that he realized that Hermione Granger, soaking wet and breathless, was straddling him on the floor of their fucking tent.
Granger must have noticed this around the same time, for her cheeks burned a deep shade of red, and she scrambled off of him ungracefully. Draco slowly brought himself to his feet, noting how she refused to even meet his gaze. She really was embarrassed, wasn't she? Well for fuck's sake, it's not like she'd been riding him or something! In the hours since, Draco would reflect back on that moment and wonder why he wasn't instantly repulsed by that thought, but for now, he merely pushed it away.
Denial always had been a strong suit of his.
"I have to—I need to sleep; you should sleep too!" She babbled mindlessly, turning on her heel and disappearing behind the curtain that Granger had put up for them to change behind. Draco sighed and pulled his sopping wet shirt from his body, grabbing a spare sweater and yanking it on. By the time he'd finished cleaning up his mess from dinner and pondering over what had occurred, Granger had managed to turn the lights off and sneak into bed.
Several hours had passed, and after endless tossing and turning, Draco gave up on sleep for the night. He shifted to lie on his back, the cot he'd situated himself on creaking slightly. He placed his tongue between his lips and stared at the ceiling of the tent—if he concentrated hard enough, he could just make out the dull outline of the stars burning miles and miles above them. For someone who thrived on living luxuriously indoors, he thought to himself grimly, he had to admit that this was his favorite part of camping out. Forget the fact that his partner was damn near insufferable and they were no closer to finding the Hallows than they had been when they'd first started their journey, but this—this calming state of serenity as the entire world slipped into a deep and peaceful slumber was perfect. It was everything he'd never had; it was everything he wanted.
He heard a soft sigh coming from the cot close by, and his eyes flickered over towards Granger, his body tensing immediately. He sat up, his blonde hair sticking up every which way, and felt his body relax when he noticed that Hermione was still fast asleep. He stared at her curiously for a moment in the dark, his muscles aching from the uncomfortable bed. Rolling his shoulders, he noted that she didn't…she didn't seem all that wretchedly bad when she was sleeping; she was peaceful, even—she fit with the rest of the atmosphere around this time of night.
It was around this time that Draco remembered the queer book she'd been reading, and his curiosity was heightened once more. Perhaps it really was a ridiculous romance novel; then he'd have all the more reason to tease her for it. He strained his silver eyes around the tent in the dark, and his eyes fell upon a small, square-shaped object sticking out from underneath her pillow. It appeared to be the same shape as a book, and silently Draco crept over to where she slept. He bent down, his face mere inches away from hers, and gently tugged the book free from the pillow. Her head sunk down further onto the cot, and he held his breath as his heart hammered in her chest when suddenly, she moved. It was the slightest shift of movements, and a small sigh tumbled past her lips, but as she rolled over to the other side of the bed, it became apparent that she was still sleeping. Sighing in relief, Draco scrambled to his feet and crept over to the opposite side of the tent, stealing to the bench in the corner.
Grumbling to himself, he fumbled for his wand and muttered a "Lumos", placing the handle of his wand in his teeth as he inspected the novel carefully. It was an ordinary paperback book, and in swirly lettering on the front read To Kill a Mockingbird. Draco frowned slightly, his brows furrowing closer as he inspected the cover page further. There was a beautifully drawn picture of what appeared to be a dark bird of sorts flying through the air, and underneath the illustration was the author's name—Harper Lee. He didn't recognize it as a Witch or Wizard's name, and rolled his eyes as he came to the realization that of course Granger would be reading a stupid Muggle book.
It didn't, however, appear to be the cover of some scandalous romance novel. Nevertheless, Draco was intrigued, and decided that it wouldn't do much harm for him to read a bit while she slept. He kept the handle of his wand clenched between his teeth and cleared his throat, opening the book and folding the cover back as his eyes scanned the first sentence.
"When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow…"
He found the book to be a queer one as he continued reading, yet his desire to know what would happen, and why Granger appeared so fascinated with the content of it, burned too fiercely for him to simply ignore the chance to study the contents of this Muggle piece of literature when the chance stared him blatantly in the face.
About an hour had passed, and he'd made a small dent in the novel when he heard something stirring next to him. So absorbed in what he was reading and struggling to comprehend what half of the terms used by the characters even meant, he heard a soft noise, as though someone were clearing their throat, and his head snapped up. He dropped the book to the ground with a dull thud, and his wand fell from its place between his teeth to clatter against the table. He picked it up and muttered "Nox" under his breath, but no sooner had he extinguished his light than the person standing above him had lit hers. Granger's face soon became illuminated in the night, and she was giving him an odd sort of stare as she moved to sit down across from him.
Soundlessly, she bent over and picked the book up, setting her wand on the table. It lit up the tent, bright and glowing, and Draco found himself unable to gather the sense to get the fuck up and leave. She'd just caught him reading a Muggle book—her Muggle book, more precisely. There was no weaseling his way out of this one.
"So, you finally found it," She said quietly, staring down at the book, worn with hours of reading she'd no doubt spent over it. She set the novel down quietly, her eyes flickering over to his. Much to his surprise, he found neither anger nor amusement in her gaze, and that puzzled him all the more.
"I wasn't reading it," He defended quickly, and the protest sounded weak even to his own ears. Granger gave a soft smile and shook her head, sighing slightly.
"You don't have to lie, Malfoy; I know you were reading it."
"Yeah, well, if you hadn't been so fucking secretive about it, then I wouldn't have been suspicious in the first place!" He continued, squirming in his seat. His fingers itched and he resisted the urge to wring his hands together, his gaze hard on hers. Granger remained silent at this, and Draco decided that she must just be tired—that could be the only logical excuse as to why she hadn't snapped his head off for speaking to her in such a fashion.
"How far have you gotten?" She inquired suddenly, flipping through the book half-heartedly. Draco stared at her in amazement for a moment, cocking one brow before hesitantly snatching the book from her hands. He looked through it, finding the appropriate page and handing the book back to her
"There," He indicated, jerking his head towards it. She scanned the page quickly, mumbling to herself and nibbling on her fingernail thoughtfully.
"So not far, then?" She mused finally, gently closing the book and placing it back down on the table. Draco didn't bother to respond to this, merely glared at her as though he resented her for discovering his secret.
"I would have let you borrow it, you know," She continued gingerly, and Draco was struck with the burning desire to spit in her face and tell her to fuck off and stop being so nice to him. Kindness wasn't something that should be shown and practiced while the two were near one another, and Draco dug his fingernails into the cotton of his pajama bottoms to release his anger.
"Why the fuck would I borrow a Muggle book from you, Granger?" He spat accusingly, narrowing his eyes slightly. She merely shrugged, a small smirk on her lips challenging him.
"You were the one reading it in the dark, if I recall correctly."
"Like I said, that was just curiosity—"
"Of course it was," She said simply, her face hiding all emotion she might have felt. Draco attempted to penetrate her cool and impassive mask, and once that failed he huffed in aggravation, running a hand through his hair.
"Why are you reading that, Granger?" He asked, defeated. "I'm not sure I understand the context of a lot of what they're saying."
Granger, as if delighted by the chance to speak about books, sat up straighter and gave him a slight smile.
"Well," She began breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Like you said, it's a Muggle book—written by an American author and published the mid-1900's. It's made to address one of the biggest conflicts in society at that time—have you figured out what it is so far?"
Draco paused, struggling to remember all of what he'd read, before finally sighing and shaking his head slightly.
"They…they seemed to be a bit…elitist about skin color."
Hermione shook her head slowly, as though she were guiding a child through a lesson. The thought made Draco want to toss his lunch.
"Yes—racism was a big deal, particularly in the southern region of the United States around this time…people used to believe, actually, that one race of humanity was biologically and physiologically superior to the other. Some still feel that way, unfortunately, but…" She trailed off, pursing her lips slightly as Draco mulled things over. He didn't understand why the fuck Muggles would give a damn about skin color in the first place—it wasn't as though it changed who they were. Deciding they were inferior, he rolled his eyes and scoffed, mildly disgusted.
"And they say Muggles are advanced creatures for their time," Draco scoffed, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Honestly; to fucking isolate and dislike someone for something as ridiculous as that? No wonder the Muggle world went to shit."
Hermione said nothing, merely pressed her lips together and toyed with the edges of her book. Finally, her eyes slid over to his, and she parted her lips slightly.
"It is ridiculous, isn't it?" She asked quietly, and the question was so soft and tender that Draco reeled in shock.
"What are you getting at, Granger?" He asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. She made him feel uncomfortable, and Draco had to grip the edge of the table for support. "What's the correlation?"
Instead of responding, Hermione stood. Rather than taking the worn book back with her to bed, she slid it over to him, giving him a faint smile.
"Why don't you read it and find out?" She challenged, quirking one brow. Before Draco was able to compose a coherent response, she'd doused her wand and slid back to bed, leaving her pale companion confused, and staring blankly at the book now cradled in his hands.
Left with the option of abandoning the book and taking it, Draco tossed it on the counter and sulked off to bed, scowling and laying back down on the cot. He fell asleep much easier this time than the last, and by the time he'd woken up the next morning, the book was lying next to his pillow.
This time, he kept it.
a/N: Hello, everyone! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, for some reason, and I hope you all enjoy it, as well. I wanted to steer away from the cliché "Draco gets caught reading Shakespeare" thing that I myself have even succumbed to from time to time. I chose To Kill a Mockingbird for a multitude of reasons, one of which should be obvious and another being that it's one of my personal favorites. I hope you're all doing well, and don't forget to review and let me know what you think xxx!