Draco Malfoy and His Quest to Sensibility Chapter 26, a harry potter fanfic

Draco Malfoy and His Quest to Sensibility

by cleury

Chapter XXVI

"Do you work in binary?"

"Bi—what?!"

"Are you an action potential?"

She could only raise her eyebrows at all the scientific terms Draco was spouting out, and realized in a state of horrid empathy that this must be what everyone—especially Ron—felt like when she referred to Muggle nuances.

"Why does it have to be one way or the other?" he growled, growing incredibly annoyed at her. She was supposed to be smart and see everything! He grabbed the tin of cake and started stuffing it in his mouth, feeling the sudden urge to gorge himself on something sweet before he exploded in anger.

"Um," said Hermione hesitatingly.

The tin of cake didn't stand a chance and as soon as he was done with that, he reached over her legs and grabbed the box of doughnuts. Jam and cream. Yum. "Have you even tried to tell a person or ask them for help?" he yelled, stuffing a doughnut in his mouth. The sweet taste assaulted his tongue, and he popped the rest of the treat into his mouth.

Hermione ate ravenously when she was depressed. Draco ate when he was positively furious.

"I-I talked to Ron…" started Hermione completely bewildered by his sudden binge eating.

"I said a person, not an invalid weasel with half a brain!" he roared, his mouth full . "What would he know?"

She cringed as flecks of spit flew from his mouth. She could see why he had looked at her so strangely before. If she looked anything like that…"I've always talked to Ginny, but she didn't seem to understand—"

"Yeah, I said a person, not an invalid weasel with half a brain!"

"Hey, don't call Ginny that!"

He scoffed down another piece of cake so fast, it free-fell from his throat into his stomach. He smiled as he licked the frosting from his lips. It was funny how she rushed to defend Ginny but not Ron—maybe she had finally accepted he only had half a brain after all.

"Let me get this straight," Draco said, and he grabbed one more doughnut from the cardboard box as he spoke. Hermione looked as though she was about to stop him from eating the remaining ones, but he silenced her with his stern look. "You think the British Ministry is corrupt, blah blah, so you don't want to be a lawyer here because all the magical law students end up with a Ministry job. You think you should live in the Muggle world, but you'll have to cut yourself from magic because you'll be lying to everyone every hour of everyday. Correct?"

She nodded and in that space of time he finished the box of doughnuts. "Um, maybe you should stop eating..."

"Maybe you should stop eating," he mimicked her voice, before reaching for her bag of crisps and emptying the contents in his mouth. He swiped the crumbs off his lips and spoke, slightly calmer than before. "Hermione Granger. Have you ever read The Crucible?"

She nodded. "Of course, it's a fictionalized and dramatized version of The Salem Witch trials."

He licked his fingers. "And why do you suppose the Salem Witch trials even occurred? Where there's smoke, there's fire. Salem, Massachusetts is a slightly smaller magical community than the one in France. The magical folks in America are much more integrated with the Muggle community. All the American business partners my company works with own cell-phones and computers. I don't know a single company connected to the Wizarding United States government. You know good ol' America with their rights and freedom. Oh hey! Isn't that perfect for you! Then there is the Salem Institute for further education; with your grades, they'll be begging you to join them. And if you really wanted to be a Muggle lawyer," he said as he looked at her seriously, "one of the most prestigious law universities in the world is based in Massachusetts; you can attend there and still interact with the magical community."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, looking a bit like a fish.

"You didn't even think outside the British system, did you?" he said as he polished off another slice of cake. "And because, out of everyone else you could confide in, you managed to select the two worst people—I heard they don't even know what a telephone is!— your existing views only became entrenched and solidified. That's confirmation bias for you." It felt great to yell that at someone. Draco was still sore over the fact that he had fallen into that bias himself when he had been tricked by her about her being a volunteer.

She stuttered. "I…"

"Then to make it even worse, you had to go and pull yourself into some false dilemma where you had to choose one thing of the other. Did you even consider the other possibilities. Of course not! I bet you didn't even confide these problems with anyone because you were too scared of the options out there."

"But…"

"But what?" he asked, not feeling particularly sympathetic or gracious to her right now. "You're supposed to be smart and think of everything! This is what happens when you surround yourself with idiots. Stupidity's contagious!"

She wrung her hands around, new worries forming in the mind. "What if they don't like me there? I haven't made any new friends since I was eleven— it was only because of the mountain troll that I became friends with Harry and Ron—no one cared to talk to me before that. And…" She bit her lip.

"Just spit it out."

Hermione placed her hands on her hips, not liking how flippant he was being. "Okay, so I've made some mistakes—"

"That wasted almost a year of your life," he finished for her.

"But you can't treat me like I'm completely stupid because of it!"

"Can't I?" snorted Draco, his nose in the air.

"You wouldn't understand…"

"Understand what?" he said, growing tired. He had just solved her conundrum for her, she should be rejoicing, dancing, but instead she was plagued with fresh doubts.

Hermione looked down at her hands. "What if people don't like me there? I mean, if I was pretty like Astoria, then I wouldn't worry and..."

"Astoria's got dandelions for brains." He shot a confused glance at her, and saw the insecure expression on her face, making him feel bad for her. The reason why Hermione felt like this was because he had spent the better part of his adolescent life blowing holes in her self-esteem, and though he knew she had forgiven him for it, the damage had been done and he couldn't reverse time. He could, however, acknowledge what he did and make amends. "Look at me," he said in a softer tone. She refused to look at him, and her eyes remained stubbornly closed. Draco sensed there was more to why she felt so sensitive about the subject—of course she would be, after all the insults I threw at her about her appearance and her lack of social life with anything rather than a book—"Listen to what I'm going to say, and repeat it after me."

He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and shook her, trying to get her to open her eyes. She refused, and they remained clamped shut. It seemed like she was copying what he did often when he tried to wish people away. He wasn't about to disappear now.

"I'm Hermione Granger," he said. "Say it!"

"I'm Hermione Granger," she acquiesced, following his lead.

"The most annoying fucking know-it-all Draco Malfoy knows."

"The most annoying know-it-all Draco Malfoy knows."

What was she, a nun? "I'm the brightest witch of my generation."

"I'm the brightest witch of my generation."

"My potential hotness is directly proportionate to the square of the distance…"

Hermione's eyes flew open and he lifted his eyebrows, urging her to repeat his words.

"My potential hotness is directly proportionate to the square of the distance…" she parroted hesitatingly.

"Louder. Say it like you mean it. And I'm going to hurt you if you copy what I just said."

Her lips twitched once.

I knew it. The infallible Hermione Granger, was quintessentially like this. Although telling her she had the best personality in the world or she was the smartest witch of the generation was all well and good, at the end of the day, what she wanted—what she implored to hear was to be told she was pretty.

"My potential hotness is directly proportionate to the square of the distance..."

"Of the distance a regular guy would stand away from me."

"Of the distance a regular guy would stand away from me." She frowned and glared at him and he could tell she was wondering whether there would be some awful, cruel joke behind it. He strove on ahead, afraid the temporary trust and vulnerability Hermione was showing him would disappear.

"This means that..."

"If I stood from a really far off distance, my potential hotness…"

"Would be infinity."

"Since my potential hotness is infinity, I should always hold my head up high."

Draco let go of her when she said the last sentence, and he could feel his expression mirror her smirk.

"Is that how you woo girls, Draco? If it was, you need some lessons. That was awful."

"I thought you might've enjoyed it," he responded, feeling slightly embarrassed at even thinking up something so gag-worthy.

She sighed dramatically. "That is the dream! Being told by The Draco Malfoy that their hotness potential is infinity when they're a blob in the distance."

"Damn straight."

"You think you're so cute," she said, feeling slightly happier. She punched him on the shoulder.

"No, you think I am."

She tugged her knees to her chest, and hugged them. "Do you think I'm shallow?"

Draco scoffed. "You? Shallow? Associating that trait with you has never crossed my mind. What, you think you're shallow because you feel good when people compliment you about your appearance? Boy Wonder and Gingerhead never treated you right, and this is coming from your childhood bully." Hermione opened her mouth to defend her friends, but Draco held up a hand to silence her. "And for that, they are extremely foolish."

"You know, during Hogwarts, I thought boys wouldn't pay attention to me because I was too bookish and they were intimidated. I thought it would change when we got older. But even though we're out of Hogwarts, nothing's different. It's like Hogwarts never ended. And look at me," said Hermione, she hugged her knees tighter to her chest. "I'm not naturally pretty like Astoria."

Astoria again. Why? "She puts in a lot of effort to make herself look naturally pretty," he pointed out.

"But that's not the point," she mumbled. "I've been starting to think something's wrong with me. My personality, it turns off guys doesn't it?"

"You are pretty, kind, and responsible, albeit the most brutal and exhaustively stubborn witch I have ever known—" declared Draco, staring straight ahead, not even daring to look at her while he was speaking, "—not to mention that you managed to stand up to my aunt and Voldemort when you were just a teenager. I mean, look at what you were doing at Astoria's age."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. He made it a point not to compliment her about her book-smarts, he knew that wouldn't mean much to her and had moderated his compliment— he didn't know how she would react if he suddenly started to praise her sincerely. "You're a genuinely good person," he said. He could see Hermione was about to ask him to stop, so he finished it off quickly. "And since you can tolerate Potter and Weasley, you must be some sort of superwoman, and even that would be an understatement. So as long as you make an effort to show your personality, you're going to be fine."

Hermione spluttered and looked as though she was suffocating. She wrung her hands round. "It sounds sarcastic when you dish outlandish compliments like that."

Draco ran his fingers through his hair and let out a shaky breath. "It felt tacky while I was saying it," he said, blanching suddenly. I can't believe I just sincerely complimented Granger. "But I wasn't lying."

There was an awkward silence.

She gave him a shy smile and a hug. "Thanks. In some strange way, that made it mean even more to me."

Should I say it? It was definitely rude, and he would embarrass both of them if he said it… but he could hold it in no longer, and he felt like it was going to kill him if he didn't bring it up. "Hermione…"

"Yes?"

"You need to um… wash your hair," he said, pinching his nose. He had tried to ignore it, but the stench of Hermione's hair overwhelmed him. Hermione made a strangled noise, and bounced away from him.

She ran into the bathroom and turned the shower on. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he said, standing up. With his duties done, he wasn't going to stick around. "You weren't expecting visitors and yeah…"

Hermione gave a sharp-ish scream and shut the door. He cracked a smile.

Draco heard the shower running and he stood up, feeling queasy from all the sugar he had quickly consumed in his rage. He shook his head and waved his wand twice, cleaning himself and the mountain of trash on Hermione's bed. A vortex of rubbish swished around the room, and, ever conscientious about the environment, he separated all the recyclable plastic materials into one pile—to his utter dismay, she didn't own a recycling bin. And I thought she cared for the greater good!—and directed all the aluminum foil wrappers into the rubbish bin. As the last crumb wriggled its way out from Hermione's pillow and into the bin, he sighed. He felt a sense of satisfaction and something akin to a cathartic release when he finished cleaning the room. Draco reached into the pocket and pulled out the spork—his good-luck charm: the one he had seriously considered adding to the Malfoy heirlooms.

But fate decreed it not to be.

Draco placed the plastic spork on Hermione's bed, entrusting her with one of his most prized possessions. He didn't need to rely on luck anymore; he could solve his future problems by himself with the support of the people around him. Hermione, however, with the new challenges of migrating to a different country and meeting new and strange people, needed it more. He shut the door quietly behind him.

TBC. I can't exactly remember when I came up with the infinite potential of hotness, but it was during an A-level physics class and I had been pretty much dying to insert it somewhere ever since. This seemed like a good time as it serves as a hint of character development to our darling protagonist. I snigger every time I come across it. I hope you sniggered when you read it too.

Cleury