Shades of Grey

Chapter Seventeen: Mudblood

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone. Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous."

- Ron Weasley

The world was being thrown into chaos, and Hermione Granger feared that at any moment, it would burst into flames. She had lived through one war recently, and the promise of another one breaking out was terrifying enough to make her skin crawl. The memories of what the war had done to everyone-how it had ruined them and destroyed everything-was still fresh in her mind, and she suspected it always would be. It was imprinted into her very skeleton-burned into her memory forever. She would never be able to leave the war behind, but perhaps she could move forward. She planned to; she wanted to. One of these days.

Bellatrix Lestrange's battle campaign conflicted with that plan.

The news that she and Malfoy had intercepted had been a devastating blow to their plans-to Hermione, it had felt as if everything they'd spent weeks and months searching to prevent had been for nothing. Bellatrix had the wand-who knew how long she'd kept it in her clutches for. Who knew what kind of power she could possess with it alone. It was a powerful sort of weapon, the Elder Wand; one to most certainly not be misused. And Hermione had the strongest hunch that the grand misuse of this dangerous weapon crafted by Death himself would be exactly what Bellatrix had in mind. She wasn't, after all, known for her skills in strategy and careful planning.

It was strange to think that two members of the very same family now could say they held possession of the most powerful wand known to the Wizarding World. What was even stranger to Hermione was just how different both aforementioned family members were from one another. Bellatrix was...Merlin, she was a monster. She was callous and cruel and the perfect embodiment of evil. She lived without a conscience; a dangerous combination when paired with her bloodlust. She was a mad, mad woman, Bellatrix was, and on a certain level...she frightened Hermione. The young woman was instantly reminded of the words the insane Death Eater had engraved into her very flesh, tugging on the sleeve of her shirt to hide the word that tainted her very flesh. And then there was Draco-Draco, who could be the world's biggest prat, but was capable of emotions so raw and real that it left Hermione dizzy. There was a side of the former Slytherin that so many chose to overlook in favor of condemning him for his status as a Death Eater. Hermione had been guilty of doing it once, too. But now? Now, all she could seem to see whenever she looked at Draco was how...how good he could be. He'd be disgusted by her choice of words, but...it was the truth. Malfoy had proven to be so much more than the Wizard she'd convinced herself he was long ago, and she was...relieved.

She could protect herself from Bellatrix, but...knowing that he would be there with her through it all helped somehow. Malfoy was a changed man, and she held more trust and confidence in his abilities than she did with nearly anyone else.

Nevertheless, Hermione was scared. The terror seeped through her veins and controlled her-at any moment, she was afraid that she would turn around and face the cold and unforgiving gaze of Bellatrix Lestrange and her army of followers. She was a Gryffindor-she was supposed to be built on bravery and courage and selfless acts of devotion and dedication. So where was her bravery now? Where was her self-assurance that their side would win the impending war, no matter what? She knew that she was human, and that fear was-of course-a necessary part of life. But...she'd already lived through the Second Wizarding War. Through the worst of it all; Voldemort was deceased now, so what was there to fear? One last pathetic attempt for the lingering Death Eaters to gain power? To try and rise above the Ministry and overthrow the Wizarding World's government once more?

She tried to calm herself with the knowledge that they would be prepared for anything this time around. That in itself was a rather broad statement to make, but...she had the Order. She'd been sent on this mission alongside Malfoy by Harry himself. Things...things would end up alright. They had to-she was too close to freedom now to fail. Too close to the independence that she-as a Muggle-born-deserved. And Hermione Granger refused to have her human rights stripped from her.

She would claim her humanity, even if it was the last thing she did.

It was the night before she and Malfoy were meant to head out and ambush Bellatrix at the Shrieking Shack, and Hermione's nerves were a jumbled mess. She was sitting in an over-stuffed chair in the corner of the room she was staying in at Hogwarts, flipping through a small notebook she'd kept with her throughout the duration of their journey. Her dainty fingers trailed across the scrawled and swirled writing of thoughts and findings that she'd quickly jotted down in the midst of their mission. So much time had passed, and yet...it felt as though she'd been preparing to leave 12 Grimmauld Place just yesterday. In the blink of an eye, her entire world had changed; she'd been through so much on this expedition, and the realization that she'd grown and experienced so much in the presence of Draco Malfoy was...shocking, admittedly.

And what she felt for him was even more monumental.

She knew, deep down, that he could never know the true extent of her feelings when it came to him. Aside from the raw and heavy humiliation she would have to bear if he got even the slightest inkling of how she felt, Hermione was forced to acknowledge that he wasn't hers to claim. More and more frequently as of late, she'd had to remind herself of this single fact. On a certain level, she felt filthy for being the mistress of a man who had a long-term relationship waiting for him back home. As much as she tried to soothe her guilt by telling herself that he didn't love Astoria the way he was supposed to, it didn't ease the weight pressing down on her conscience. She was fooling around with a man who would-in due time-be set to marry someone else.

And Godric, it killed her.

She had been encroaching on the final pages of her journal when she heard a knock on the door that connected her suite to Malfoy's. Jumping, she slammed the book shut and stuff it into her nightstand, tugging an errant strand of curls behind her ear and sitting up straight in her seat. She knew it had to be Draco calling, of course, but...she couldn't possibly think as to what his reason would be for venturing into her sleeping chambers.

Perhaps he was just wanting to make some things about tomorrow clear. Yes...that had to be all it was.

"Come in," She managed, her voice slightly shaky. Merlin, what was wrong with her?! She heard the door creak and Malfoy soon emerged, shutting it behind him and tentatively stepping into her room. His eyes glanced over her surroundings before falling on her, and he stopped abruptly. He seemed...nervous, almost. Uncertain.

"Is something the matter, Malfoy?" She inquired, unable to help the way her heart sped up in his presence.

"Nothing's the matter, no, I was just...wanting to speak with you about tomorrow," He stated, stepping into the room. Hermione watched as he wiped his hands against his trousers, and after a moment or two of studying him intently, she stood and made her way towards him.

"What about tomorrow, Malfoy?"

"Do we know if we're going to have back-up or not? Is there any way to ensure our safety, Granger?" He managed, his voice taut with emotion. His brows were furrowed together in a clear display of bemusement, and Hermione wished she could wipe that look off his pale and aristocratic features. "Because right now I feel like we're bait-just waiting for someone like Bellatrix to come along and bloody Kedavra us right out of the damn Shrieking Shack."

He was nervous; that much she could tell. He always cursed and spoke loudly when he was upset or anxious. It was one of his many habits that she'd grown accustomed to in the time they'd spent together. She wanted to somehow soothe his worries-to tell him that everything would be alright. She couldn't guarantee such an outcome or fate for the both of them, but...Godric, she wished she could. She wished it with everything in her. That along with...other things.

"I realize that things aren't perfect, Malfoy," Hermione began, tugging on the sleeves of her nightshirt. "But we've done all we can to prepare for tomorrow. We've informed Harry and he's promised us that he'll have some troops ready for a possible battle tomorrow." She hated phrasing it like that. It made the undertones of war stick out more prominently.

It terrified her.

"Have we, Granger? What sort of promises have we been left with, exactly? Because last time I checked, everything was still up in the bloody air."

"That's not true!" She exclaimed, exasperated. "Harry's going to lead the army over to the Shrieking Shack tomorrow afternoon, and Colin Creevey's going to be in charge of signaling when we're ready for him. He'll be hiding in the Shrieking Shack's cellar, waiting until the two of us enter. Then he'll alert the others through the system of charmed coins they've set up for emergencies. After that, Harry and the others will ambush Bellatrix and whoever else she's brought along. So you see, really, it's all figured out."

Draco hadn't even let her finish before he was barking out a cold, cruel laugh.

"Colin Creevey?" Draco sputtered incredulously, taking a step towards her. "You expect me to trust Colin bloody Creevey with something like this?!"

"Yes, Draco, Colin Creevey," Hermione stated angrily, her brows furrowing together. She understood that he was apprehensive about their mission, but there was no reason to grow so angry with poor Colin about it! "What's wrong with Colin? He's dedicated to the cause and wants to prove his worth! He's the greatest person for the job, Malfoy, and you know it."

"He's ridiculously naive, Granger," Draco spat at her, his arms flailing around madly. "He's inexperienced and ignorant and nothing more than a stupid little Mudb-"

He stilled then, and it felt like the world had frozen around them. Hermione's heart was pounding furiously in her chest, and try as she might to ignore it, she felt hot tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Angry at the betrayal of her emotions, she blinked away her tears quickly. How could she possibly have been foolish enough to believe that Malfoy's views of the world had changed? That he no longer regarded those of lesser bloodlines as inferior? She'd thought that maybe, given how close they'd grown over the past few months, that things...that things had changed between them. She'd been foolish enough to think that she'd had some sort of impact on him.

Clearly, she was wrong.

"Granger..." Draco managed finally, his voice taut and thick with emotion. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did," She snapped, her voice shaking. Her brown eyes bored into his own, and in that moment she swore she'd never felt so humiliated in her entire life. Nothing-nothing-could compare to this sensation of disappointment and deflation. She felt as though her heart had been ripped right out of her chest, and it was all because of him. Because she'd let herself grow too close to Draco Malfoy for comfort. "That's what he is to you, isn't he? A Mudblood. That's what we all are to you, aren't we, Malfoy? Filthy, inferior Mudbloods."

The word fell like venom from her lips, and she wished with everything in her that this was all a dream. But it wasn't. This was real, and she was being forced to deal with the consequences of being emotionally attached to someone as...as insensitive and prejudiced as Draco Malfoy.

But she'd thought he was different. She'd almost been certain of it.

"That's not true," Draco protested, taking a step towards her. He seemed unbearably frustrated, and Hermione eyed her tall partner suspiciously as she waited for him to continue. "I don't-Granger, you aren't a Mudblood. I just...damn it, don't you understand?"

"No, Malfoy, I don't."

"You're the exception!" He blurted out, his eyes growing wide. "You've been the exception for months now, Granger-I don't see you the way I see the rest of the world. I can't...look at you and see you as anything other than Granger. As anything other than...who you've become to me."

Hermione grew silent after that, reeling in shock. He'd revealed so much to her in his tirade, and she had to take a few moments to collect and gather her thoughts. Malfoy had, more or less, just informed Hermione that she meant something to him. And while that was...all that she'd wanted for weeks now, it wasn't enough. Not in this context. Not with the knowledge that the word Mudblood could still fall so easily from his lips. She felt a dull ache spread from her chest to the very tips of her fingers, and she knew that the next words she uttered would break her heart. She wanted Malfoy-wanted him more than she had any right to desire any sort of claim over another human being-but she respected herself too much to cave into her basic human instincts. Perhaps it was pride; maybe it was something else altogether. But whatever the label may be, one thing was absolutely certain-Hermione respected herself too much to let something like this go.

Even for Malfoy.

Balling her tiny hands into fists, her nostrils flared angrily and she stepped forward. Allowing her anger to control her every move, she lifted a hand and jabbed a finger against his chest, trembling from head-to-toe with rage so raw and potent that it nearly destroyed her.

"I am no one's exception, Draco Malfoy," She began, her voice cracking. "If you think of one Wizard or Witch as a Mudblood, then you think of all of us in the same way. I am not an exception to my bloodline, and you aren't one to yours. You either view us all as equals, or you believe us all to be inferior. There is no in-between, and how dare you treat me as though there is."

"You're different, Granger," Draco protested, clearly trying to get her to understand. "I just...I don't know, alright? It was an accident-I shouldn't have said it. I can't even think of the word when it comes to you, but I just...fuck. You're not that, alright? You haven't been that to me for...a long time."

"I'm not different," She continued, throwing her arms up in the air. "I'm a Mudblood and proud of it, Malfoy! You can't ignore who I am; you've got to be open to it and embrace the side of me that's so different from you. And if you can't accept me for who I am, then maybe...then maybe this isn't going to work. Maybe I'm a fool."

"Don't say that, Granger-don't," Draco continued, and Hermione would swear she heard a hint of desperation in his tone. An urgency to make her understand. "What's broken can be mended-we can fix this."

"Some things can't be repaired, Malfoy," Hermione stated, her voice growing quiet. Her hand dropped from where she'd been poking at his chest and she tugged her arms around her torso, pulling the sleeves of her nightshirt down as she did so. "I think it would be best if you left."

"...Granger, you have to understand-"

"-No, Malfoy, I don't. I'm tired of trying to understand and excuse you for something that you should have had the sense to grow out of by now. I'm tired of trying to find reasons to excuse your actions. I'm so tired, Malfoy."

"...Granger..." He tried again, reaching out a hand to touch her. Hermione flinched away, taking a step back and pressing her lips together in a thin line. A part of her wanted to reach forward and collapse into his arms; she wanted to swat at him and scream and cry and yell at him for all the times he'd hurt her in the past. She wanted to demand explanations for things she had no right to know, but most of all...she wanted to pretend this entire night hadn't happened.

"I said go, Malfoy," She said sternly. "Now."

Draco hesitated only briefly before dropping his hand. She could tell that he didn't want to stay, but Hermione had heard all she wanted to from him for the evening. To her, there was nothing left to say; the damage he'd inflicted was already done, and she wanted to be left alone to deal with the repercussions of his actions. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other uneasily, tugging a wild curl behind her ear and watching the Wizard who had grown to mean so much to her stumble away. As he opened the door that connected their rooms and paused, she was nearly certain he was going to say something to her. Maybe he wanted to apologize again-maybe he wanted to excuse his actions. But whatever it was that was clearly trying to form itself on the tip of Malfoy's tongue died away, for he exited the room with a heavy sigh and shut the door behind him, leaving Hermione alone.

She waited until all noise and rustling from his room had died down before collapsing face first down onto her bed. Burying her face against one of the pillows she'd been given, Hermione allowed her muffled cries to fall from her lips. They were strangled noises that choked her to the point of asphyxiation; they were brutally raw and intense and Hermione prayed for the pain to end. She swore her heart had cracked in half tonight, and as she clawed desperately at the cotton sheets beneath her, she prayed to Merlin that her pain and suffering would end. She prayed for the relief that never came, and for the removal of memories that were permanently embedded in her mind. She thought of the scar on her forearm and was instantly repulsed; it scarred and stung her skin at the mere memory, and as Hermione pulled her trembling arm off the bed and turned it over to appraise the jagged lines that marked the word "Mudblood" into her skin, she realized that...that there were some people you couldn't save. That there were some people who would always be prejudiced and racist beyond repair. And as she squirmed into a sitting position and wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks, she'd never been more aware of this very fact. Tentatively, she lifted a hand and ran an index finger along the scar, tracing over each letter and muttering the word underneath her breath. She was just a little girl when the term was introduced to her...the Death Eaters and elitists wanted to make it her identifier. She was marked with the scar of prejudice and hatred that spanned decades, and what she felt wasn't disgust with herself or embarrassment for who she was, but...determination. Determination to prove them all wrong-to rise above and move against the current. To defeat them. But there was something raw under her determined mindset-something that ached and craved for the Wizard lying in bed one room over.

And it was only then, in the darkness of her room and the vulnerability of her emotions on display, that Hermione allowed herself to admit the very thought that had been struggling to seep through her subconscious for the past few weeks.

She was in love with Draco Malfoy. And he still thought of her as nothing more than a Mudblood.

a/N: I know I don't usually quote characters from the series at the beginning, but I thought that quote from Ron was perfect for this chapter! I hope you're all having a great time-it's the middle of the summer for me, and I'm finally settling into my new house! Please-leave comments and reviews to let me know how you're liking this chapter and the story so far :). Next chapter comes some big time action! Get ready!