A Hundred Storms

Chapter Seven: Beautiful Disaster

He drowns in his dreams
An exquisite extreme I know
He's as damned as he seems
And more heaven than a heart could hold
-Beautiful Disaster, by Kelly Clarkson

After watching Hermione stalk away down the hall towards their dormitory, Draco realized that she would be a sitting duck in her bout of anger. It wasn't that he thought all Gryffindors were stupid but, well, actually, he did think all Gryffindors were stupid, just some less than others. It used to pain him to admit it, but Hermione Granger fell into the less-stupid variety of the annoying house. Less-stupid as she was, however, something was to be said about a woman all in a huff and trying to make a point.

And so he trailed her at a discreet distance. He was close enough to be able to see her clearly and yet far away enough to appear nonchalant, even bored. He watched her slip into the common room and followed behind her until she went into her room. He listened for any sound of an ambush before retreating into his own room.

The next morning Draco woke early, hoping to try to talk Hermione into at least telling a member of the faculty about the previous night's events. He showered, dressed, and opened the door to the common room. Much to his surprise, Hermione was already perched cross-legged on the sofa in front of the fire, poring over a book.

"Granger," he approached her cautiously.

"Malfoy," Hermione acknowledged his presence without looking up.

Draco frowned. He was not some simpleton to be brushed aside so easily. "Granger," he said again, this time in a louder tone.

"What is it?" Hermione still hadn't looked up.

"I'd appreciate a little more respect during our conversation," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"And when you have earned it," Hermione replied without missing a beat, "you will have it."

Something small broke in Draco, and he snatched up the book Hermione was reading, forcing a startled cry out of her while successfully making her look at him.

"Give that back!" she said indignantly.

Draco looked at the cover. Malicious Spirits and How to Quell Them. "I thought you were not taking your little tumble seriously?" he asked her, still holding the book.

Hermione got to her feet while he kept the book from her. "I never said that," she said angrily. "I said I was not dealing with it last night. I've already been to McGonagall about it and stopped at the library to check that book out. It's under control."

"Fine then." Draco felt the anger dissolve into something resembling relief. He had not been looking forward to going to the headmistress on the less-stupid Gryffindor's behalf, not to mention the questions that would come with it.

Hermione stood and grabbed her book out of Draco's hands while swinging her school bag over her shoulder. Draco couldn't deny the very solid feeling of a dismissal. He didn't like it.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

Hermione turned to him, her face incredulous. "I thought I might take a dip in the lake with the giant squid, followed by competition centaur riding," she deadpanned. When Draco merely blinked, she made her way to the door. "It's breakfast time, you git. I'm going to the Great Hall."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her retreating form. "Don't call me a git," he said in a low voice.

"Don't act like one," she called back before disappearing into the hall.

"Stupid bint," Draco mumbled under his breath before following her out.

Breakfast passed uneventfully. Hermione received two letters, one with a worried tone, the other much more agitated. Between bites of pancake, Hermione told Ginny everything that had transpired the prior evening.

"And you are sure Malfoy didn't have anything to do with it?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"I'm as sure as anyone could be," Hermione replied with a shrug. "For one, it was an awesome bit of magic, and the trip was spur of the moment. Even if Malfoy somehow managed to orchestrate the whole thing, which I doubt, he would have needed some help, and no one knew we were going."

"He might be having you followed," Ginny pointed out.

"There's a thought," Hermione acknowledged. "But why?"

"Revenge?" Ginny suggested. "That's the most obvious reason. He can't be too happy that you helped lock away Lucius for life."

"But I kept his mother, not to mention Malfoy himself, out of Azkaban," Hermione argued. "I could have collaborated to lock away the entire family, but I did the right thing."

"He doesn't care about the right thing," Ginny said simply. "He's a Slytherin."
"Careful," Hermione warned. "You're beginning to sound like Ron,"

Ginny made a face of mock offense before breaking into a wide grin. "Honestly, Hermione, I couldn't begin to guess who might be behind it, but Malfoy is the most obvious offender. He's the only one who has a well-founded grudge against you."

"Not hardly," Hermione sighed. "Half the wizarding world loathes me, I'm sure there are several students who wouldn't mind see me lying at the bottom of the stairs."

"Don't say things like that." Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Don't even joke about that."

Hermione dipped her head. "Sorry, Gin. It's just that Malfoy is too pragmatic to plot my demise while here at Hogwarts. He's still on probation and currently has nothing to gain."

Ginny cocked her head. "Maybe he's blinded by rage?" she asked in a mild tone.

Hermione gave a small laugh and shook her head. "I don't think Malfoy possesses such emotional depth. I've watched him lose his temper but never very badly. Ron is more enraged on a regular basis than Malfoy."

Ginny giggled. "You're right about that one. Speaking of my dearly deluded brother, are you meeting them at the Three Broomsticks this weekend?"

Hermione nodded. "They confirmed in their letters they would be there, although I almost wish Ron would stay behind, I know he's just going to try to talk me into leaving again."

"So you're really not going back to him?" Ginny asked a little too casually for Hermione's taste.

Hermione looked at the younger girl. "Ginny, do you think I came back to Hogwarts just to prove a point to Ron?"

Ginny shrugged. "All I know is that you fought, and suddenly you're packing your school trunk. I just assumed the obvious."

"You should never assume things, Gin," Hermione admonished lightly and sighed. "We fought because he told me I wasn't to come back to Hogwarts after I had already made up my mind."

"I honestly don't see why you did, come back, I mean," Ginny began, then hurried on when she saw the furious expression brewing on Hermione's face. "Not that I'm not glad you did come back!" Ginny rushed. "Of course I'm thrilled. I thought I would be all alone this year, and now I have you and Neville! It's just that I don't see why you needed to come back when Ron and Harry didn't."

Hermione paused and let out a frustrated breath. Like her brother, Ginny didn't understand that Hermione's magical life began and very nearly ended at Hogwarts. It was a feeling Hermione had a hard time putting into words and had an even harder time phrasing it so that a pure-blood could truly understand. She loved Ron and Ginny, but it was Harry alone who really knew her. Hermione understood why Harry couldn't return to Hogwarts with her. That part of his life was over. Hogwarts had been his first true home, but now he had the means and the desire to forge a new home, maybe even make one for himself and Ginny when she graduated in the spring. She tried telling Ron that once, and Ron accused her of having romantic feelings for their dark-haired friend. Hermione wouldn't dare make the same mistake with the female version of Ron's temper.

"It's a Muggle-born thing," Hermione finally said. "Hogwarts was my first taste of magic, and I want to see it through until the end."

Ginny accepted this with a nod, but before she could comment further, the professors came around with the class time tables, and breakfast came to an end. Hermione had to fight to keep her grin under control, which pleasantly surprised her. She began wondering what things she would finally be given the opportunity to learn and how much she would discover that she couldn't while hiking across the wilderness. She felt truly grateful to be receiving this second chance.

The first class Hermione had for the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw seventh years were gathered in the Defense classroom when Hermione walked in, curious as to who the newest Defense professor was. Hermione recognized him immediately. His name was Joshua Wendel, an Auror that had been fresh out of training right before the final battle at Hogwarts. He was in his mid to late twenties, most likely only out of Hogwarts in the last ten years. Hermione last saw him while preparing for the Malfoy trial and was surprised to see that he gave up a career in law enforcement in favor of teaching.

"Hermione Granger!" Wendel exclaimed. "What brings you to my new classroom today?"

"Defense class, Professor," Hermione said with a grin. "I decided to finish out my last year."

Wendel's face faltered slightly. "Well, Hermione, I hope I do not disappoint you too terribly. I'm not sure I can bring anything to the classroom you have not already mastered beautifully."

Hermione dipped her head at the compliment. "Thank you, but I'm sure a fully qualified Auror can teach us all a thing or two. You also have a few former DA members here. I'll be willing to wager they're all eager to learn applied defense after the previous years."

Wendel grinned and nodded. "I have a few things up my sleeve; maybe I'll be able to surprise the brilliant Hermione Granger and finally convince her to join the Aurors."

"Are you not planning on continuing with teaching?" Hermione asked.

"Merlin, no!" Wendel sounded aghast. "While I enjoy a rigorous training, my heart is simply not into teaching. I am here as a personal favor to McGonagall. She thought it would be wise to have a few Aurors on hand in case any trouble started brewing, and I happen to be very adept at offensive curses. Given she was my Head of House here at Hogwarts I felt duty-bound to oblige."

Hermione was interested to learn there were a few Aurors about. Wendel was the first she recognized. "I would be very interested to hear about offense curses," Hermione said happily. "I've mastered the basic sensory deprivation spells, but I would like to broaden my arsenal."

Wendel grinned widely. "Excellent, excellent, I'll have you joining me at the Auror academy in no time."

Hermione laughed a little and made her way to an empty seat between Neville and Ginny. She found it pleasing that a bright young Auror was interested in recruiting her to join the wizard elite. She smiled at Ginny and settled in for a very interesting lecture.

"Wasn't that enthralling?" Hermione gushed as they walked out of the classroom. "Isn't it lovely to learn about defense that incapacitates your enemy without violence?"

"I'm not sure about that, Hermione," Ginny said. "Isn't that the point? To stop your enemy and hurt them before they hurt you?"

"Not if it can be helped!" Hermione said severely. "Never forget that, Ginny. We are only as good as we make ourselves be. Using spells meant to harm should only be used in the direst of circumstances." Hermione paused. "Or on your brother," she added as an afterthought.

Ginny, who was about to get very defensive herself, deflated and laughed at Hermione's unexpected quip. "I know you're right, Hermione, but sometimes...sometimes I do want to hurt them."

Hermione didn't need to ask her who she was talking about. "I know, Gin," Hermione said and took her hand. "I do, too."

Ginny tried to get Hermione to visit the Gryffindor common room after dinner, but Hermione still couldn't quite make herself go up there without Harry and Ron. It was an odd feeling, as though it would be considered cheating on her two best friends. Neville went to visit, however, and judging the empty common room when Hermione returned, it looked as though the other eighth year students also were visiting their old haunts.

Except for two. Blaise and Draco were settled in large armchairs on opposite ends of the fire, Blaise writing on a bit of parchment while Draco was reading through a school book. Hermione stopped in the doorway for a moment and took in the incredibly bizarre scene in front of her. She debated internally about trying to sneak past them and bolt for her room, but Blaise looked up from whatever he was writing and offered her a small smile.

"Good first day?" he asked pleasantly.

Hermione relaxed slightly and nodded. "Very pleasant," she responded. "I'm very happy to have a competent Defense teacher once more."

"When have we ever had a competent Defense instructor?" Malfoy looked up from his book. "They have all been an incredible academic disappointment.

Hermione glared at him and made her way to her room. She opened the door and set down her school bag, fished out a book, and returned to the common room. She settled herself onto the couch in between the two and looked straight at Draco.

"I know you have prejudice issues," Hermione began, "but you cannot deny that Lupin was a brilliant Defense teacher. Lockhart was, of course, a moron-a handsome moron, but nonetheless. The Moody imposter, Crouch, was also very fit to teach a class, but unfortunately, he was a sociopath. After that, things really did start to disintegrate, what with Umbridge being a vile human and Snape having other concerns to worry about other than teaching. I'm happy to have someone to learn from once more."

Draco looked like he was about to say something, but Blaise beat him to it. "You're lucky you missed the Carrows, Hermione," he said. "They made Umbridge look as harmless as the disgusting kittens she used to decorate her office with."

Hermione smiled and happily noted the first name basis that came with this particular Slytherin. "I'm very sorry you had to go through that," she said sincerely.

Blaise looked surprised. "Go through that? I was in Slytherin, I am not the one you should be sorry for."

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, they ruined your final year at Hogwarts, no one should have that taken away."

Blaise smiled. "Aren't we all lucky to be getting a second chance then?"

Hermione noticed he looked pointedly at Draco, who seemed to be picking at a particularly interesting piece of invisible lint on his shirt.

"I was just thinking that this morning," Hermione replied. "While the arrangement is a bit unorthodox, I'm happy to have some privacy up here."

"Why aren't you over gallivanting with Longbottom and the other Gryffindors?" Malfoy asked suddenly. "Thought you wouldn't be able to stay away from all that bravery concentrated in one location."

Hermione stiffened a bit and noticed Blaise give Draco a disapproving look, which was ignored.

"I didn't feel up to it," Hermione said. It was the truth, after all.

"Why?" Draco persisted.

"Why do you care?" Hermione shot back.

"I just want to know why you're in here using all the air is all," Draco said with a cool shrug.

Before Hermione could retort, Blaise was on his feet with his wand in hand. "ENOUGH, Malfoy!" he all but shouted. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Me?" Draco looked every bit the aristocratic prince, comfortable in his chair and not moving, simply believing everything would bend to his wishes. "What is your problem?"

Blaise openly gaped at him. Despite really knowing his friend, Blaise often found Draco to be insufferable, of course, but this was turning into a personal best for the youngest Malfoy.

"You should be THANKING this woman, you idiot!" Blaise said, pointing at Hermione. "If it were not for her, you and your mother would be in prison, and what do you do? Insult her to her face? I know you're a git and proud of it, Malfoy, but there's a time when you have to grow up and get over it."

Before Draco could pose a rebuttal, Blaise grabbed his things and exited the common room and into the castle.

Hermione sat, blinking in something like awe, before she heard the sound of a throat being cleared.

"I concede that perhaps Zabini might not be entirely off base."

Hermione had never heard Malfoy use that tone of voice before. It was still a lazy, bored sort of drawl of course, but there was an edge to it. The words were carefully chosen as though using the wrong ones would send the speaker plummeting off a cliff. She stared at him, his lean body still draped in his chair like the lord of the castle. He met her eyes evenly, but she saw something there that she was sure wasn't present in the years before – regret.

"Thank you for that," Hermione finally said before returning to the book in her lap.

The minutes ticked by in a strained sort of silence. While the fire crackled warmly, the spot in the room Malfoy occupied seemed to be emitting a sound like frozen energy. Hermione could feel it, she simply couldn't hear it.

"Ginny thinks you're my nasty poltergeist," Hermione said casually, still looking over her book.

"I would, too, if I were her," Malfoy responded just s cooly.

"I don't, however," Hermione replied.

"You would be a fool to trust me," he continued as flippantly as though they were commenting on the weather.

"Why?" Hermione finally looked up and saw he had continued staring at her, his book forgotten on his lap.

"Why not?" He looked pointedly at her.

"What sort of answer is that?" Hermione huffed.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" Draco raised his eyebrow.

"You are immensely infuriating," Hermione sighed.

"I like to think I am immensely satisfying," Draco responded with a wicked chuckle.

Hermione finally paused their banter. "What on earth is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Draco smirked. "May I ask you a question?" he asked with an innocence that made the hair on the back of Hermione's neck rise.

"Politeness suits you, Malfoy," Hermione said lowly. "I'm glad you are finally learning that manners matter." She paused. "Are you going to ask me anything concerning my use of your precious pure-blood air?"

"No, I will not," Draco said calmly.

"All right then," Hermione huffed. "What is it?"

"About what you said last night." Draco held her gaze evenly, enough to make her want to squirm. "Regarding the fact that you do not believe I've changed over the course of the last two years. What did you mean by it?"

"What did I mean when I said you hadn't changed?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Correct," Draco confirmed.

"Exactly what I said," Hermione said slowly. "You have not changed at all. Two years of all-out war and you're still the same snobby, prejudiced boy I met my first year."

Instead of the angry retort Hermione expected, Draco just nodded. "I see," he said.

Hermione paused a moment then said, "Is that not the case?"

"Does it matter what I say?" Draco asked evenly.

"It might," Hermione said slowly. "It certainly wouldn't hurt anything."

"How wonderfully reassuring," Draco replied sarcastically.

Hermione sat up. "Well?"

Draco swung his leg back around from the arm of the chair and planted them firmly on the floor. He leaned in, elbows on his knees, and fixed Hermione with a stare that could melt silver.

"The only reason I'm not in a cell in Azkaban rotting away next to my father is because of your testimony," Draco stated matter-of-factly. "That changes things more than you will ever comprehend."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Draco put up a hand, effectively silencing her. Her mouth snapped shut, and she waited patiently for him to continue.

"I was always Lucius Malfoy's son," Draco said carefully, still holding her eye contact like a life preserver. "I always knew my place. I always knew the place of others. The Dark Lord obliterated that knowledge. There he was, a half man with half blood, and he took over my father, body and soul, without so much as a struggle. There's power, and then there's borrowed power. The Dark Lord possessed both, and my father gave up his entirely. After that debacle at the Ministry when my father was imprisoned the first time, the Dark Lord set about his plans to punish my father. I know now he set me up while we were in our sixth year. He was a master at deciphering what went through one's mind, and at sixteen I could hardly hope to keep him out. That's when I knew what my purpose in life had been leading up to."

Draco looked expectantly at Hermione, now looking for her active participation. "And what was that?" Hermione asked him on cue.

"Destruction," Draco said. "Everything in my life boiled down to that one thing. I thought my father was a hero for all wizards, but he was deluded. I was raised to believe the Dark Lord was the second coming of Merlin, sent forth by the old magic to bring pure-blooded wizards and witches to our rightful place above the half-bloods and Muggles. You thought it was all dark and crazy plans with the Dark Lord, but he truly believed in his cause. I believed that it was only right that we eradicate all the tainted things in the world. He painted a beautiful picture of peace and prosperity. He believed that the Muggles and the Mudbloods and all the other magical beings were dirty, not pure enough to delve into the beauty that is true unadulterated magic. I did, too, until I didn't."

Hermione didn't need to wait for him to check to make sure she was paying attention. "What changed?" she asked with a ghost of a whisper.

"Your blood," he said, his grey eyes still locked on hers. "Your blood changed everything."