o0o
Tuesday, October 1st 1996
Draco pulled her along roughly, astutely keeping his senses heightened for teachers or prefects as he led her to his work room. He figured they could talk privately and then when she left, he could resume his task. It was a win/win situation, as he saw it.
When they arrived, the door was visible and he pulled her inside quickly. Surprisingly though, the room was bare save for a navy winged-back chair.
"Well, out with it, I've not all night." He turned to her then and as if seeing her for the first time, was shocked to see her rubbing her wrist and tears streaming down her face.
"For Merlin's sake, what are you blubbering about?" Draco barked crossly.
"A few weeks ago…I...I muh-muh missed a period," Pansy stuttered unable to face him, shame flaming her cheeks.
He sneered at her. "Pansy, stop being so dramatic, students skive classes all the time."
"NO!" She rushed forward and clasped desperately at his jumper. "You don't understand! I was pregnant…and when I slipped down the dungeon stairs last night, I…I…"
She didn't have to say anymore. Total comprehension of what had happened sprung on him like a cold autumn rain. Twisted and ominous. And yet, he couldn't acknowledge it, couldn't comfort the empty, broken girl before him, and couldn't even find anger or regret. He had nothing. Nothing to offer and nothing to feel.
He nodded curtly. "Get out, Parkinson. I believe my use for you has expired." and he pivoted, giving her nothing but his cold back as he let his frame sink into the chair.
o0o
Tuesday, December 20th 2005
"Tell me your happiest thought." Granger said softly. She had been humming while she made dinner. Moving around the kitchenette as if she was dancing.
He was sitting at the table reading an excerpt by a muggle philosopher, John Hospers. It was from his book, The Range of Human Freedom, and the topic was Determinism. Draco found it fascinating, but couldn't fathom how it pertained to him. After all, his nurturing made him cold hearted and here he was, trying to warm it. But if Hospers' theory was correct he could not rise above it. Right?
"Draco?" she said as she set his plate in front of him.
"Hmm?"
"Your happiest thought?" she inquired again.
"I don't have one. I'm not Peter-fucking-Pan." He glanced up with aggravation; he really loathed being disturbed while he was studying.
"Obviously." There it was, another eye-roll that shook his core. She pouted at him momentarily and then sat beside him and began to eat. "My happiest thought is Hogwarts. Whenever I think about it, I feel as if I'm infallible."
"Why am I not surprised?" he said drolly. "Do you really agree with Hospers? Because if so, it would seem I'm a lost cause."
"Yes, I do." She said it a bit too quickly for his liking.
And something clicked in him. He felt…he just felt something indefinable. But, gods, he Felt again. Although it may have only been an errant beat of his heart.
Granger paused her dining and stared at him. Worry etched over her face. She began to reach for him affectionately, but caught herself and promptly retracted her hand. "What's wrong?"
"I'm a lost cause, that's what you think, yeah?" he hissed dangerously.
"What? No." Her brows swept together in confusion.
"Then explain why you are having me read this rubbish." He tossed the papers at her.
"You are misunderstanding Hospers, Draco," she said feebly, she suddenly seemed dimmed, wounded.
He swallowed hard and used all his patience to hear her out. His eyes a saccade. Flicking from her face to the papers and back again.
She cleared her throat and lifted the papers, searching for the appropriate passage. "Here he says …
"Those of us who can discipline ourselves and develop habits of concentration of purpose tend to blame those who cannot, and call them lazy and weak-willed. But what we fail to see is that they literally cannot do what we expect; if their psyches were structured like ours, they could, but as they are burdened with a tyrannical superego and a weak defenseless ego whose energies are constantly consumed in fighting endless charges of the superego, they simply cannot do it, and it is irrational to expect it of them. We cannot with justification blame them for their inability, any more than we can congratulate ourselves for our ability. This lesson is hard to learn; for we constantly and naively assume that other people are constructed as we ourselves are…"
"He means that humans should use understanding over judgment." Her eyes rose to meet his. "And I believe that all humans have an innate aptitude to rise above their nurturing." She chewed on the corner of her mouth as she let him process what she had just explained.
But unspoken words hung in the air and rang deep inside Draco's consciousness. In her sweet inflection he heard: "And I need you to believe it too."
o0o
Tuesday, June 17th 1997Draco's mouth twisted into a disgusted sneer as he studied the pale pointy-faced man in the mirror. The young man's dull eyes, gray as ashes, were full of loathing, and his platinum blonde hair mopped his head, falling across his brow to help darken his scowl. Draco barely recognized his own reflection. Over his last year at Hogwarts his body had aged with stressors that should never have been placed upon a young boy's shoulders. He mourned his youth, and found it easy to hate the hard man in the silvery glass.
Forcefully he tore his wretched gaze from the looking glass to the water that streamed powerfully from the sterling faucet. Thankfully, the rushing noise seemed to drown out the unrelenting voice of seething antipathy that unsurprisingly reflected his father's stiff brogue.
Cupping his hands together, Draco hunched over the porcelain basin and splashed the cool water over his face. Finding minimal refreshment, he rubbed his lips roughly with his long fingers, before returning to ponder his depressed reflection.
He had been about to choose, his wand lowering, when the choice was ripped from him and the task was over. As he raised his gaze to face the pitiful man in the mirror, he knew he did not deserve anything good.
It was a hard lesson learned.
o0o
Tuesday, December 20th 2005
Granger was freshly bathed when she emerged from the adjoining bathroom. Her curls hung in a damp curtain around her heart-shaped face. Her skin was flushed from the heat of her bath. She was donning a navy jumper that swallowed her torso, white, cotton boxer shorts that hugged her rear and brown, wool socks that hung loosely around her ankles.
Draco watched her hurry to the warmth of her bed, and decided she had very nice, very shapely legs. His breath caught and he found himself entranced, unable to tear his eyes from her.
Granger pulled the blankets over her bare legs, shivered dramatically and then as she tucked herself in, a smile ran the camber of her lips.
"Have something to say, Draco?" she said without ever meeting his gaze.
He snapped his chin up and swallowed thickly. As he saw it, he had two options: Give a compliment or an insult. However it was far more difficult choice than that. He knew what he should say, would say, by force of habit, but it was wrong and hurtful. More importantly, it was untrue. Yet as the silence ran on, he could not bring himself to compliment her. She was still Mudblood Granger in his head. No matter how pretty she was. And she was not show-stopping or newsworthy. But pretty. Simply.
Any person with eyes would be forced to admit that.
Pressing his lips together momentarily, he began, "You have …er" Nice legs. Nice smile. A freckle on your thigh. Anything that was good and complimenting. "Um, you're wearing men's muggle clothing." There. That wasn't hurtful or malicious. Not really flattering either, but it was the best he could offer.
She let a full grin and a breathy chuckle before biting her bottom lip. "Keen observation, Draco. They are my father's. He passed a few years ago. These make me feel safe."
"Whatever catches your fancy Gra—Her-my-oh-knee." He said superciliously as he stretched his form on the lumpy sofa. He preferred to sleep on his stomach, with his arms hugging the pillow, and fleetingly he wondered why.
"What makes you feel safe?" Granger's voice rang through his thoughts.
He lifted his head and peeked at her. He wanted to give her an answer. He truly did. But the fact was he did not have one. "Go to sleep," he growled instead.
He heard her sigh resignedly and then extinguish the oil lamp near her bed. "The wood is getting low; we'll have to get some tomorrow."
He grunted in reply.
"Goodnight."
Draco didn't respond because he didn't know how. He was mentally exhausted. His mind racing with new thoughts. Hospers said 'understanding over judgment,' but all his life he had only known judgment. He'd been judged, held to an impossible standard, and so his natural reaction was to do the same to others. Especially her. He had judged Granger. Labeled her. Damned her. Yet here she was, trying to help him, teach him, and be friendly. She was showing him a new kind of way and he wasn't entirely sure he was capable of viewing the world through her eyes. He did not deserve her kindness because he had never treated her with it. And he couldn't understand why someone as good as she, would want to help a tyrant, a bigot, a stupid selfish...
Maybe tomorrow he would try to figure it all out.
Maybe tomorrow he would try to not see her as a dirty foul creature.
But a woman. Because that's the only label she deserved from him.
Particularly because figuratively, he wasn't even a man.
o0o
Tuesday, March 22nd 1983
"…and after Prince Draconis slayed the beastie, he returned to castle's tower to kiss the sleeping Princess and save her from her eternal slumber." His mother's voice was soothing. Lulling and safe.
As her son fought a thousand nods, she was curled in his bed and whispered adventures. His tiny, chubby fingers rubbed her earlobes while he listened intently, hypnotized by her reverberation and storytelling.
"The Princess lay serenely on a bed of silk, her long hair flowing over the shams, sleep pinking her cheeks and as Prince Draconis knelt beside her, he knew he'd never seen a more beautiful princess. He bent his head and placed a kiss on her red mouth and settled back to watch her awaken.
"Her lashes fluttered and when her eyes fully opened to rest on Prince Draconis, she smiled."
Narcissa paused to make sure that Draco was asleep. His fumbling on her ear had ceased and his breathing was deep and rhythmic.
"And they live Happily Ever After." She kissed his forehead and carefully extracted herself from his bed, tucking the blankets around his small form.
With one last caress of his cheek she smiled. "Sweet Dreams, my Prince."