~Perfect Harmony~

Disclaimer: As you all can probably see, if you all even read this part anymore, I'm running out of creative ways to say I don't own Harry Potter. All I own is this fanfiction and the twist of the plot; twist of the plot because I'm trying to stay as true to the story as possibly to make it seem more realistic.

Enjoy!

~Quidditch Curses~

It was November and there was a a certain chill in the air. The trio had been sitting outside during one of their free periods; Hermione had conjured up a small flame in a jar to keep them warm when Professor Snape reared his greasy head. He'd confiscated Harry's book, spouting off some rubbish about library books not being permitted outside of the school, and took five points from Gryffindor before limping away. They had all been suspicious of that. Harry and Ron had informed Hermione of his leg, claiming to have seen a huge gash on it the night the troll was let in. It couldn't have been a coincidence and they were determined to get to the bottom of it; the problem was doing so without getting caught.

Later that afternoon, Harry stood in the common room and said, "I'm going to get it back. He wouldn't be so harsh as to keep it from me when there are other teachers in there, right?"

Both Ron and Hermione shrugged their shoulders and said in unison, "Better you than me." They watched Harry walk off before looking at each other and shaking their heads. "He's not going to get it back," Ron mumbled before turning to go talk to Lee Jordan about the quidditch game tomorrow between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Hermione couldn't help but think of Harry and Malfoy-both. She really didn't feel like dealing with Malfoy being a prat, especially since he really wasn't one to begin with; the things she'd said after that first flying lesson had mainly been out of anger. True, most of that was correct, but Malfoy was really just a stupid, scared little blonde-haired boy who didn't feel like competing against the famous Harry Potter and being humiliated. She was happy that he was no longer plotting tricks to get Harry expelled anymore, though. Now he had resorted to name-calling and verbal bullying, things in which he could only truly do in the halls and whatnot.

"Hello there, little lady," came two voices perfectly in sync from either side of her. As they sat beside her they blocked her vision with their hands, and she grinned before sighing and closing her book.

"Fred. George."

"Right you are!" they applauded and unveiled her eyes, much to her appreciation. "Always got that cute little nose of yours stuck in a book, I see," Fred said.

George chuckled and added, "Your head'll really explode if you keep trying to fill it up with things such as..."He hunched over and turned his head to look at the title, reading, "Ancient Runes of the 16th Century. Seriously, how do you enjoy sitting and reading this stuff. It would give me a headache, it would."

Fred playfully hit his twin, saying, "Oh, let her be, mate. She can't help it if her bookworm senses start tingling whenever she's in the vicinity of a good read. She's addicted, the poor girl. We should really put you in rehab, we should."

Hermione rolled her eyes as they both draped an arm around her shoulders. "I'm guessing you've watched Spider-Man, most likely thanks to your father's love of everything muggle."

"Right you are!" they cheered once more. "Dad's in love with muggle superheroes," George grinned.

"Especially those with insect qualities," added Fred.

Then they both said, "But his favorites are Batman and Robin, because they don't have any powers. Just their heads and their will to protect those less fortunate."

Ron came back over, eyeing his two older brothers with skepticism. He still hadn't completely forgiven them for giving him that fake spell Hermione had witnessed back on the train. "Ah, here comes the little brother. He fancies you, I bet," said George. They ran away as Ron swatted at them.

"They're a couple of troublemakers, I tell you," he hissed. "Can't trust them at all. The moment you do, you're done for."

"Oh, come off it," she rolled her eyes, pulling him down to sit beside her where Fred had previously been. "They're just having a bit of fun. Besides, I'm sure everyone knows not to take them to seriously. You're the only one who still gets caught in their traps, so you deserve it."

As Ron opened his mouth to defend himself, Harry came back in looking sick. Hurriedly, he sat beside them and spoke in a hushed whisper. As he recounted his adventure to Snape's office and everything he'd overheard, she was quite shocked. Then Ron asked the question they all had been wondering: "But what's he after? What's the dog guarding?" She knew right then that she would be breaking more rules. What she didn't know was exactly what she was getting herself into.

Draco Malfoy sat on the window sill, using the moonlight so that he could see what he was writing on his roll of parchment. Everyone else had fallen fast asleep, but he found that he could not. So he was up writing his thoughts to his mother. Hopefully she would get it whilst his father was at work, that way his father wouldn't be curious of the contents. It was one thing Lucius Malfoy was good about, not invading his privacy. Once finished, he lifted it to the light and read:

Dear Mum,

Something weird is happening to me. Do you remember the mudblood girl I had told you of earlier, the one with the wand and the annoying ability to know everything the teacher's asked us about?

Well, I never really mentioned this but she keeps getting stuck in my head. I mean, father has always taught me that we are superior and stronger because we have pure blood [and I know you disagree with this sentiment] but she has more nerve and intelligence than our entire first year class. She's...[and I may puke after writing this word...]...brilliant. She's been defying everything I've learned about her kind and it's blowing my mind.

And I think the major change in me started when she became extremely upset with me after our first flying lesson [don't ask, I'll explain that bit later on...perhaps during Christmas break.] She confronted me...well, I actually confronted her. She was trying to go see that Longbottom kid in the infirmary for his broken wrist since his broom went mad and started thrashing him about. I absolutely had nothing to do with that. I promise. Anyway, I said something but nothing unusual from my normal daunting and something in her snapped. She called me a coward and a prat and...Mum, she stumped me. I was standing there like a complete idiot staring into space well after she walked away. She made me speechless. ME. What was I suppose to say?

And she said one very distinct thing that I still cannot get out of my mind. She told me that she sincerely hoped I realized my mistakes before I ended up worse than...father. I just can't keep those words from echoing in my mind and I keep getting angry.

Then something weird happened on Halloween. Not letting out any big information concerning that, but her life was in danger and instead of turning the cheek and letting it go [it would have served her right] I ran to help her. I sort of just stood to the side when that Potter and Weasley got there [didn't want to get caught] but the point is that I ran after her. I've never done anything like that before. There have been times when I've wanted to do those things, say for you or Dobby, but for a mudblood I have no connection with? I even followed her halfway to her house and pulled her aside to scold her! Not snicker or taunt...I was legitimately angry that she was being stupid and got herself into a life-threatening situation.

What's happening to me? This is all so new to me. I don't know what to do. I need someone to talk to about this. I really wish you were here.

Well, I really should be heading to bed. I need to have enough energy to cheer on Slytherin. Our first match against Gryffindor is tomorrow, and I'm truly hoping Potter gets his butt kicked. Go Slytherin!

With love from your son,

Draco

He read it over again, making sure he'd gotten everything he'd wanted to in there. He would talk to her more on the matter when Christmas came around. He rolled up the parchment, set it on his bedside table and slipped into bed, falling asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow. That night, he dreamt a very peculiar dream. When he awoke, he didn't remember a thing.

Hermione yawned and stretched in her four-poster bed, ready to take on the day. Today was the first quidditch match, and she knew Harry was very nervous. This meant she had to console him and make sure he ate something, even if she had to shove it down his throat. Even knowing this, she was very excited. While she may not enjoy being on a broom herself, watching Harry, who flew as if he'd been born on one, made her happy. She never saw him quite as alive as when he was flying through the air. It was something she longed for, which is why she was always stuck in her books. She loved learning. It gave her a joy she couldn't seem to find elsewhere. It never seemed to fulfill her, though. It merely succeeded in helping her escape from reality for awhile, and to imagine what it would be like to really feel alive.

She was right about one thing. All the way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry looked pale. When they sat down she'd had to put food on his plate as he'd refused to do so, and now she was staring at him as he picked at it like she'd dragged it from the rubbish. He was really being quite childish, although she couldn't really blame him. She'd read about the sport awhile back and that was partially what made her fear flying in the first place, other than her acrophobia. "You needn't worry about the bludgers, Harry," she said, thinking that was his problem. "After all, you've got Fred and George to block them. They're like a pair of human bludgers, if you think about it." Harry mumbled something about Oliver Wood having said the same thing. She'd finally had it with this. "You've got to eat your breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

Waving some toast in his face, she sighed, "Just a bit of toast?"

"I'm not hungry."

Surprisingly, Seamus stepped in to help, and Hermione had hope that together they could get Harry to at least take one bite of his breakfast. "Harry, you need your strength." She was looking on with stars in her eyes. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team." In that split second, all hopes of getting Harry to touch any of his food were dashed.

"Thanks, Seamus," Harry said breathlessly. Great, now he was even more nervous than he had been before, and she hadn't even thought that were possible. She was just hoping he wouldn't get sick and fall off his broom mid-game.

Draco Malfoy watched the Granger girl from across the Hall trying to feed the scar head as she rubbed his shoulder, and he couldn't help but glare deathly in their direction. Part of him wondered if she could feel it, because it would please him greatly to watch her squirm under his gaze. It would give him some sense of control. As he thought this, though, Blaise sat beside him and glanced at what he was staring at. "Potter looks a bit sick, don't you think?"

Turning to the food on his plate once more, Draco shrugged. "Good. Let him. I hope he falls off his broom and has to be taken to the Hospital for a few days. Or weeks. Or months. Or just transfer him to St. Mungo's for the rest of his life for all I care." With that being said, he began to rip into his sausages with his teeth with all the aggression he could muster.

"Malfoy...are you alright?" Draco stopped mid rip. What had he been thinking? He'd just let his emotions get the best of him in public. True, they were vile emotions, but they were emotions nonetheless. "You seem a bit more...how shall I put it? Angry today. You shouldn't let other people see you like that, mate."

With a sigh, Draco laid down the sausage on his plate and nodded. "Thanks for that. I don't know what came over me."

"Perhaps it's lack of sleep." Draco snapped his head up in shock, but Blaise seemed to have expected this reaction as he continued to explain. "I was having a few sleeping problems myself last night when I saw you move to sit on the window sill with some parchment and ink. What were you writing? You were going on for awhile."

Draco secretly thought, You wouldn't believe me if I told you. He merely shrugged, however, opting to continue eating silently with much better etiquette than he had been using a few moments ago. He failed to catch the weird look Blaise shot him before he, too, returned his focus to his own breakfast.

"GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Hermione and Ron jumped up and down in the stands, screaming along with the rest of their fellow housemates. Hermione was half-tempted to stick her tongue out at all those arrogant Slytherins-one in particular-but resisted. She was having the time of her life, having never been to anything like this before. Glancing up, she watched Harry circling high above like a hawk, searching eagerly for his goal. Most of her attention was spent glancing from him back down to the action below, but halfway through she realized something strange. Harry's broom was twitching. Slowly, the crowd began to take notice of his predicament as well. As soon as Hagrid mentioned Dark Magic, she asked for the binoculars and instantly searched the stands for a certain suspicious character.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, handing the binoculars to Ron. "Snape-look. He's doing something...jinxing it!" She was thinking very hard, but when Ron muttered something about what they were going to do, she suddenly had a brilliant idea. "Leave it to me!" And she was off.

"Poor Pothead," Draco sniggered as Slytherins all around him sneered and spoke of how stupid he looked. "Looks as though his own broom doesn't care for him too much either, does it?" Everyone laughed, and he felt a sense of power roll into his court, so he snatched it. "The famous boy who lived will soon be the famous boy who couldn't control his own broom! Maybe he'll fall out of the sky, his little friends will all have heart attacks and they'll do the world a favor by following suit."

As he finished, however, it seemed that the Pothead had regained control and caught sight of the Snitch and was heading straight for it at lightning speed. "Blast it all," he murmured under his breath with a snarl of hatred. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him, still talking about the broom in which they had failed to realize was cooperating once again, but Blaise stood beside the Malfoy. He still remembered Malfoy's earlier behavior. It wasn't like a Malfoy to be so openly aggressive-assertive, definitely, especially when insulting those they despised-but not aggressive to the point where they could be easily read. They were cold and distant, but he was beginning to see this Malfoy was different. His mask had yet to be perfected.

Perhaps it's thanks to his mother, he thought to himself. He remembered her well; their mother's have been best friends since before he was born, and Narcissa Malfoy had always been quite sweet. Funny at times, too. He didn't believe she had a bad bone in her body, which is why he constantly wondered how she got stuck being a Malfoy. She'd always been very adamant about expressing your feelings-something that went against everything the Malfoy name stood for-even though she couldn't express herself around her own family. It wasn't fair, in his opinion, but fair was a word that didn't exist in the dark pureblood families.

Turning his attention back to the game, he was surprised to see Potter on the ground puking...gold? No...that was...

"I've got the Snitch!" Potter shouted, waving it in his hand with the biggest grin on his face. Blaise scowled; he may not having anything against the boy himself, but he wasn't going to pretend it didn't irk him that they lost to their rival house during the first game of the year.

It had been a week since the game and everything had once again settled down. Well...sort of. Draco Malfoy was becoming more and more convinced that the Golden Trio were up to something; Granger was constantly dragging her two idiot friends to the library, searching through books that didn't seem the least bit interesting to them. They could be researching for some project, but he doubted it. Pothead and Weaselbee wouldn't just sit and do research for some stupid project when they could be off playing Wizard's Chess or talking about Quidditch. Or eating. It was no secret that the weasel loved to eat, and the pothead could take his fill as well. No, it wasn't just some project. So what was it?

A letter came for him that morning and he was happy to see his mother had finally gotten back to him. He wouldn't open it right away, not at the table where anyone could look over his shoulder. He stealthily slipped it into his bag and went on about his meal. Potions with the Gryffindors was the same as always, except for the burning urge to open his letter as soon as possible. He kept glancing at Granger, but made sure only to do so when everyone else was. After all, she only raised her hand like a maniac every five seconds. Although...he did pick up on the fact that that she seemed a bit cold when answering. It was almost as though she had some sort of grudge against their Potions professor and other than Snape being a mean old bat, he couldn't see what she would have against him.

Free period couldn't have come any sooner. As soon as it hit, he made his way out to the alcove by the lake. By the time he'd gotten there, he'd already had his bag open and was clutching the letter tightly in his hands as though it would fly away at any moment if he were to loosen his grip. He dropped his bag and opened the envelope hastily, his palms sweaty and shaking. With a racing heart and a slight fear of what his mother would say, he gently pulled the letter from its envelope, took a deep breath, and began to read:

My darling son,

First let me tell you how truly sorry I am that I did not write any sooner. I have been so busy getting the manor ready for a ball your father insists I throw so that he may meet with certain employees of his. I've longed to reply for so long, but I didn't dare write to you about something like this with your father around.

Now, about Ms. Granger. Draco, how many times have I told you not to use that word around me? I understand you must around your father and your peers, but I will not tolerate it-derogatory or not. Use 'muggleborn' as that is what they are.

I must say, though, Draco. I am quite shocked. Do not think we will not be having a little chat whilst your stay during Christmas. You must tell me all about this and how it came about. I'm quite thrilled, honestly, that you've met someone like this Granger girl. She seems to have a nice head on her shoulders.

I know you must be lost right now. It's not easy to live your life believing one thing only to discover your beliefs may not be all you thought them to be. It's like being told a strawberry is a fruit only to discover one day that it tastes like a vegetable. I don't know what all happened in that first flying lesson-and you had better explain, young man!-but I do believe she told you one thing that you really needed to hear. I say this only because I love you from the very bottom of my heart.

On a lighter note, Cassandra Zabini says her son seems quite fond of you from the letters he writes. He's a good child. He doesn't completely believe in all the rubbish your father has instilled in you. Perhaps you two will make a good pair of friends. Tell me your thoughts and if anything concerning the Granger girl happens, note it in your mind until next we meet. I await you eagerly, my lovely boy.

Forever with love,

Your loving mother

Draco reread this...and then again. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. He'd hoped for answers, and yet this letter had only succeeded in planting more questions within his already confused mind. What was his mother thinking would happen? What did she hope to happen? Did strawberries really taste like vegetables? Was she encouraging him to continue being insulted by a mudblo-mugglebo-...mudborn? Merlin, he wasn't even sure what to call the bloody girl now thanks to his mother. At least he knew Blaise liked him well enough. He was the only one Draco could confidently say wanted to be his friend. Not his business partner or anything like that. No, his friend. For that, Draco was grateful.

Just as his thoughts came to a close, he heard the rustling of grass as someone neared. He panicked. No one's ever come around here before...He was in the middle of planning his escape when he noticed a tuft of bushy brown hair. Granger...? Of course it would be Granger to find his sanctuary and ruin whatever hope he'd had for privacy in the coming future. He noticed too late that these thoughts had distracted him and he was soon staring at a rather shocked Hermione Granger, letter still in hand as he stood frozen in place.

She stared from him to the parchment he held, squinting as though she could actually read it. "Have you been writing about me to your mother?"

She could actually read it?! "What do you have, super vision or something?" slipped out of his mouth before he could deny what she'd asked. Great. Just bloody brilliant. What had he just done? Embarrassed, he sneered and hastily stashed the letter into his bag. "Whatever, Granger. How did you find this place, anyway?"

"I found this place towards the beginning of the year when I was searching for some place to get away," she answered, much to his surprise. He'd have thought she would make some snarky comment about him being there and looking at this place in disgust before leaving. She actually seemed to be very...calm, as though them meeting here wasn't all that bad. But it was. Wasn't it? "As you probably noticed, no one was particularly fond of me at the start, so I found myself wanting to get away from all of that before...well...before I did something stupid."

"Like crying all day in a bathroom and nearly getting yourself killed by a troll?" Draco sneered. He wasn't sure why, but he still felt upset that she had been so stupid.

She gave him a small smile and nodded. "Precisely." Why was she smiling? He'd called her stupid that night. Shouldn't she be upset about that, seeing as she's little miss know-it-all? Maybe she was more daft than people gave her credit for.

"I honestly don't think being bullied a bit is any reason to go have a breakdown in some disgusting cubicle," he sighed. He didn't know why he was actually standing here alone with the girl having a conversation with her, but he was. And he found himself beginning to ease and calm down from the situation at hand the longer they were there. "I thought even you were stronger than that. So what if people don't like you very much? Screw them. They're all just jealous that they don't have half the brains that you possess. I think it's fickle, being jealous over something so stupid. If someone is better than you, work harder. The lot of them need to study, anyway. Watching you doing weaselbee's homework is sickening, I tell you. And that scar head's, too. Just because he's got Quidditch practice doesn't mean he's exempt from working just as hard as the rest of us."

The bushy-haired girl tilted her head as though examining him for a moment before rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Honestly, you're not half bad." He looked at her then, as though seeing her for the first time. Did she just compliment him? She had called him a horrible human being and a disgrace to the wizarding world before...but now he wasn't, as she put it, 'half bad'? "However," she added with a sigh, and he hated how much he really wanted to hear what else she had to say. "You really should practice your own advice." Now he was royally confused, and he was sure she could see it in his eyes. "I do apologize for some of the things I said to you that day, although you really did need to hear it." She paused to make sure he knew which day she was talking about before continuing on. "Still, while you may not be a horrible prat or a disgrace...you're still a coward." He went to defend himself, but she'd cut him off much to his irritation. "You get scared when you think you'll let your parents down. You're not stupid. You can see that Harry has been excelling in things that you thought you'd have over him. He's been showing a lot of potential despite having not known about the wizarding world as long as you have and that scares you, that maybe he's more than just the famous boy who lived. You tried to expel him! Many times, and that's the result of your cowardice. You can't handle people being better than you at something. After all, despite having told me all of this, you were one of the main ones taunting me. And though you may not really care, Malfoy, it hurt!" As she progressed to tell him all of his faults, she became increasingly upset, as did he.

How dare she accuse him of things such as cowardice? He was a Malfoy! "Why are you making me out to be the bad guy, you little mudblood?" His mother's words were long forgotten in his rage.

Now she was highly upset. "I do it because I can't stand someone who can't be themselves! You're always putting up this facade like you're the bad guy, so I'm inclined to treat you like the bad guy. Maybe if you start changing your ways and stop doing stupid things to keep up appearances then all of this will be forgiven and you won't be that guy. As far as I'm concerned, however, this is exactly how you want to be seen and I'm not opposed to treating you as you ought to be treated. Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

How had their calm atmosphere becoming this storm of emotions? "Why do you have to be such a bloody little know-it-all?" he growled.

She didn't hesitate to step forward and retort, "Why do you have to be such a bloody spoiled prat?"

He was really tempted to hex her. Marching right up to stand toe-to-toe with her, he screamed, "Just because you think you're the most brilliant person to ever walk these school halls doesn't give you the right to be such a stuck up prude! I'm sick and tired of you mudbloods storming into my world as though you have every right to be here! All you do is 'ooh' and 'ahh' at every little thing and it is so annoying. Watching you in Diagon Alley, getting your wand and having Ollivander telling you things like he did all but-"

"You were there?" she interrupted. "You were there when I got my wand, and you heard what he said to me?"

"Yes, what of it?"

There was a dangerous glint in her eyes as she spoke. "So...you're jealous that a muggleborn such as myself could stride into what you believe to be 'your world' and grab hold of a wand that no other witch or wizard, pureblood or not, has been able to manage since the time it was created? Is that it? Or perhaps it's the fact that you thought you would just strut in here knowing more than everyone else because you grew up in a well educated family already, then a muggleborn suddenly becomes the top student when they didn't even know about this place until last summer? You are so full of yourself, do you know that? Muggleborns have the same right to be here as you do, and don't think for a minute that we are beneath your so-called 'pure blood.' Magic may run throughout your entire family, but what good does it do if you can't be pure at heart? Why must you act like you have some stupid, stereotypical role to fill just because you're the heir of one of the most prominent pureblood families that still exist?!"

"Because I am!" he screamed in her face, balling his fists and just barely stopping himself from grabbing her and shaking her. "I am a Malfoy. We are supposed to be cold and distant. I am supposed to be some great leader that shows no weakness, and I don't even know if I can do it! Already I am a disgrace to the Malfoy name. I can't even keep my emotions in check when I need to, let alone when I have to. If I can't fulfill my responsibility to the Malfoy name I disappoint my father and quite possibly my own mother! She shares your values and the like, but she understands that everything my father worked so hard to obtain will be for not if I don't act like a true Malfoy, because I am the heir to the most prominent pureblood family still in existence. The only connection I share with my father is our hatred of your kind; take that away and what else is there? This is the only thing that makes me a Malfoy! Don't you get it?! If I let my guard down, another pureblood family will steal control from right under our noses and my family will blame it all on me, because it will have been my fault. Do you understand?"

She just stared at him, eyes full of pity. Of course she understood...she understood exactly. It was sad...very...very...sad..."Malfoy..." Slowly, her eyes softened and he couldn't help but stare at them. There was something about them that calmed him, and he unconsciously loosened the tension he'd been holding throughout his body. "Can I say something without you yelling?" she asked, tentatively placing a hand upon his shoulder. He pursed his lips, unsure what exactly to say. So he opted to say nothing. Obviously she would speak whenever she felt like without anyone's permission. She always did. "I do understand what you're going through...more than you know, actually. I'm assuming you either really don't pay much attention to your family's business or you just don't pay attention to the muggle businesses your father works with. My family owns a rather large medical business, though their specialty is dentistry-that's someone who fixes teeth if you didn't know. Anyway...the business has been in my family for generations and my parents-my mother especially-is expecting me to take over the business whether it's what I want or not." He was shocked. He knew his father did business with her family, but he hadn't known how prestigious her family's business was. Perhaps he would start listening more when his father spoke business with him.

As they began to finally ease into a civil conversation, he sat down on the grass leaning his back on the tree behind him, motioning for her to sit as well. She accepted, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them before she went on. "She's always trying to teach me proper etiquette. She hates the fact that I won't let anyone near my hair, and I won't let anyone put any makeup on me. When I wear dresses for parties, I always make sure it's something I want rather than something she has someone pick out for me. I've always been rebellious, and she can't stand it. It makes me sad sometimes that she won't just be happy with me as I am. Part of me thinks that me going away for the year has relieved her...she won't have to put up with me embarrassing her. That, and I know for a fact that she believes if I interact with my peers-the girls-I'll want to be more ladylike."

"What do you mean exactly?" he cut in. "I thought muggles went to school as soon as they turned 4 or something."

Hermione was shocked that he knew this. "So you do know a bit about muggles," she hummed.

He blushed and turned away. "Not really. I just remember hearing it somewhere and thinking about how absurd the system was."

She smiled slightly. "Well, I was hardly ever with my own age. I always excelled, so they kept having me skip grades."

"You can do that?!" He was completely baffled now, not even bothering to be embarrassed. "I wish we could do that here. I could have graduated early. Wait, does that mean you completed muggle school already?"

Hermione shook her head. "I had just finished secondary school-"

"What's that?"

She realized he had no idea what she was talking about, so she began to explain. "Well, school for muggles is split into three different types: primary, secondary, and your lower and upper sixth. You start in primary school where you learn your basic subjects: math, art, music, English, and science. I'll tell you more about those later. You stay in primary school for about 7 years, if you include your Reception year."

"7 years?!" So...you're in one school for 7 years before going to the next? I'm glad we only have 7 years here, period. I couldn't imagine going to school for any longer than that."

The bushy, brown-haired girl couldn't help but giggle at this. It felt nice to explain her world to someone here instead of the other way around. She could imagine how he felt, but now she knew how everyone else felt around her as well. "Anyway, then you have secondary school. This is basically the same as primary, only more advanced and with a few extra classes you can take and more extracurricular activities as well. You're only here for 5 years, but a lot of the children here are...well...not so pleasant, so it feels more like an eternity being here." There was something about her that suddenly changed when she thought about this that shocked him. He's never seen her look like this before, at least not up close. His mind wandered back to Charms class where she'd looked so defeated...the fire in her eyes had dimmed, and he hadn't liked that very much.

"Then you have your lower and upper sixth forms," she went on, bringing him back to reality. "You're here for 2 years, taking more advanced classes to prepare you for university. If I stayed, this would have been my lower sixth." She looked up to see him in a thoughtful state of mind.

"That entire schooling system sounds very...well...exhausting. I think I'd just quit halfway through."

"Most do," she stated. Then, with a far off, half-hearted smile, she added, "People there probably think I dropped out as well." He stared at her for a moment, watching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Without thinking, he asked, "Why do you care so much what others think?" She looked up, startled by his sudden question, and he wondered if she even knew the answer. "You're always going on about how much better it is to just be yourself when you're constantly worrying about what other people think about you. If you're so miserable, why not just act like the person people want you to be so you can stop worrying so much? Wouldn't that be so much easier?"

Hermione scoffed at this. "There's no sense in making friends with people who can't accept who you really are. If you have to lose yourself to be someone's friend, then it isn't worth it. I'd rather be poor and true to myself than rich and lost in a world of masks. I refuse to play that game and I told my mother just as much."

He just stared at her...all he could do was stare. "How can you be so...how can you think like that, as though there will be no consequences to your actions? Your parents are well known. They're being watched by so many people. If-"

"I know." Hermione looked away then as Draco's eyebrows furrowed at her tone. He was clearly asking for an explanation. "Let's just say I was introduced to the cruel reality of the world at a rather young age."

"We're only 11, Granger," he chuckled, and she couldn't help but laugh a bit at that comment as well. His curiosity was peaked, but he could see the great discomfort in her body so he decided to just drop it...for now. And something else took over: compassion. He leaned forward, piercing her with his impossibly steel gray eyes. "Listen, Granger. I don't know what happened, but it must've been rather traumatizing for you to not even want to think about it. And you've gone through a lot these last few months, what with finding out about magic, being bullied, and nearly getting yourself killed." He sighed, grumbling as he realized he had been rambling-Malfoy's don't ramble. "What I'm trying to say is that the stupid Hat did right by putting you in Gryffindor."

Hermione was...shocked. Again. She never knew a compassionate Draco Malfoy existed. She quite liked this Malfoy. "Malfoy..." He looked back at her. "Thank you."

They stared at each other in an awkward silence for an eternity, then all of a sudden burst into a fit of laughter. The wall between them seemed to be disappearing and while they weren't completely sure if they should call it friendship, they knew something had started to blossom.