Monday, 2 November 1998
"The patrol schedule is approved," Professor McGonagall said with a sigh that indicated that she was rather tired. "You may distribute it amongst the prefects. And I would also like you to distribute these."
Draco sat across from the Headmistress on the other side of the enormous claw-footed desk. He reached out and took the small pile of parchments from the old witch, briefly scanning them. "What are these, Professor?" he asked as politely as he could, avoiding looking at the portrait behind McGonagall at all times.
"Those are the schedules for the first grief counselling sessions for the last few sixth-years and the first half of the seventh-years," McGonagall answered as she polished her glasses with an emerald-green handkerchief that matched the robes she was wearing today. She put them back on her nose and peered at him over the frames.
"I have sorted the student body by year and then alphabetically by surname. The first sessions will take place in groups of four. After that, it will be determined whether further counselling is needed and those sessions will be private. The remaining sixth-years will have their sessions this year; the seventh-year students will start directly after the holidays in January. It's all written down at the top."
He had absolutely dreaded this. Not only that, he had also completely forgotten about these stupid grief counselling sessions and he mentally kicked himself for that, as it had caught him off guard. He didn't want to talk about the deaths of his aunt and one of his friends or how they had affected him. Whose business was that, apart from his own?
"Alright, Professor," he muttered instead, sighing. If the Headmistress had noticed his reluctant tone, she did a good job ignoring it.
They briefly discussed a couple of incidents that had taken place over the week before, after which Draco left the office and made his way downstairs. He had been excused from his curfew tonight to take care of some Head business since Granger had been—quite literally—forced to stay in bed with a bad cold. He strolled through the corridors, making his way to the prefects' room on the third floor where he would have to conduct a brief meeting.
His current relationship with Granger—if you could describe it with those words—had become even more strained than before, and Draco was sure that neither of them had thought that to be a possibility. She seemed determined to ignore and avoid him. He had never truly hated the Gryffindor girl before, but right now he was quite sure that it was the only emotional state left to describe what he felt for her. He couldn't recall another time when someone had talked to him the way she had and he was ashamed to admit, even just to himself, that her words had affected him far worse than he would have ever expected. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't get them out of his head.
Draco opened the door and walked into a rather small office-like room, which was already packed with prefects. He looked around and noticed that Pansy was still not present, sighing unhappily at the discovery. "Good evening, of sorts," he greeted the students half-heartedly, receiving the same kind of greeting in return.
"Where's Hermione?" fifth-year Ravenclaw prefect Orla Quirke called immediately.
"Granger," Draco answered irritably, refusing to refer to the Head Girl by her first name, "is in bed with the flu. Being the ever considerate person she is, she didn't want to infect all of you, so Professor McGonagall has given me the honour of leading this meeting."
A couple of prefects snorted in response. "You mean that the Headmistress has ordered her to stay in bed against her will and sent you because you're the second-best thing and somewhat capable of handling Hermione's duties," sixth-year Gryffindor prefect Jada Angela scoffed.
I'm proud of who I am. Can you say the same?
Draco raised his eyebrows and shot the girl a cold glare until her cheeks turned pink and she looked away. He sighed in annoyance, eager to get this meeting over with. "I have the new patrol schedule with me as well as the counselling schedule for the remaining sixth-years and the seventh-years."
Several people sighed, seemingly having dreaded the grief counselling sessions as well, making him feel a little better now that he knew he wasn't alone.
They discussed incidents that the prefects had noticed and taken care of and after that Draco started calling out names and handed the prefects the patrol and counselling schedules.
"Patil, Macmillan, if you could make sure the counselling schedules reach the bulletin boards in your common room, that'd be grand. And Angela," he called brusquely, and the unfriendly Gryffindor girl's head snapped up, her cheeks still a little pink but there was an unmistakable anger flickering in her eyes.
"You seem somewhat capable of making sure this schedule reaches the Gryffindor common room, do you think you can handle that responsibility, or do you want me to ask your partner?"
The girl huffed, stomped forward and snatched the schedule from his hand. "I'm capable, thank you very much," she bit back at him.
You're a horrible person who did horrible things.
"Very well then, that's it for tonight. Class dismissed," Draco sneered. "Greengrass, you're on patrol duty with me," he called out, addressing the brunette in the back who jumped off the table she had been sitting on and said her goodbyes to the other Slytherin prefects.
Sixth-year Slytherin prefect Viola Richmond slowed down as she neared him. "Thanks for taking care of that thing with that… thing," she said with a sly smile, motioning her head at an unsuspecting Graham Pritchard, the Slytherin prefect a year below her who was walking in front of them. Draco smirked at her and gave her a small nod, knowing instantly that she referred to the change in patrol partnership.
"It's been ages since I've seen you in the dungeons," Astoria Greengrass commented once all the prefects had left the room. "How come you're hardly ever in the Slytherin common room anymore?"
Draco grimaced as he closed the door behind them and turned left. "One of the conditions for me to be allowed to come back this year. McGonagall has created a so-called Head's Tower where I have to stay with Granger so she can keep an eye on me. I have to go there immediately after dinner and only on the weekend I can stay out a bit longer."
Astoria frowned up at him. "Seriously? That's an odd condition…"
"Yeah," Draco sighed tiredly. "It's quite the punishment for me to be locked up in a tower with Granger, given our history together. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be Head Boy in the first place."
I'm proud of who I am. Can you say the same?
"For what it's worth, I think you're doing a good job," said the girl with a smile, which he returned without even thinking about it. They walked through the corridors in silence for a while and Draco was surprised to discover that simply being around Astoria lightened up his mood in a way he couldn't explain and didn't understand, given the fact that he barely knew her.
"At first I thought you had broken up with Pansy, judging by the miserable impression she made, but she assured me that wasn't the case. She then told me about the attacks. I think it's rather awful that people hold such grudges," said Astoria after a while, a frown on her brows. "I mean, of course, what she did was wrong, but I'm pretty sure she has realised that herself a long time ago."
Draco looked down at her in surprise. "I didn't know you and Pansy are on speaking terms."
"You seem to forget who I am," the brunette snorted. "My sister is her best friend, remember? I've known Pansy since I was about nine or ten. She's almost like a second sister; she has been looking out for me just as much as Daphne has."
"That's cute. And how old are you now?" Draco asked with a smirk. She looked up at him with twinkling eyes that seemed to wonder about the intentions behind his question.
"Well, I actually just turned seventeen a few days ago," she answered softly.
"Ah," he muttered. "I'm sorry to hear I've missed your birthday."
"Yeah," Astoria sighed, staring straight ahead. "It was a fun little party."
After about an hour of patrolling and some pleasant conversations, they finally reached the ground floor and entered the Entrance Hall. Draco checked his wristwatch to discover that it was almost ten-thirty, which meant that it was time to lock the great oak doors and transfer the responsibility of patrolling the corridors to one of the Professors. Just as he raised his wand to seal the doors, one of them creaked open and a small silhouette sneaked inside.
"Weasley!" he barked, and the girl instantly froze. "It's well after curfew, where in Merlin's name have you been?"
The red-haired Gryffindor groaned and looked up at him with an annoyed expression on her face. She was dressed in her Quidditch gear and judging by the incredibly messy state of her hair she had flown around the grounds with quite some speed.
"Really, Malfoy," she sighed in annoyance, "you might want to have your eyes checked. Where do you think I've been?" She made exaggerated gestures toward her outfit.
A giggle came from beside him and Draco looked next to him where Astoria was clearly trying to refrain from laughing. She caught sight of his disapproving frown and shot him an apologetic glance.
"By the way, wasn't it Hermione's turn to patrol the corridors?" Weasley asked grumpily.
"It was," Draco sighed, irritated by the fact that everyone seemed determined to bring up Granger tonight, "but she's still not feeling well and McGonagall ordered her to stay in bed."
Weasley muttered something under her breath he couldn't catch. "Well then," she said a bit louder, glaring up at him, "what's it going to be? Detention? A deduction of twenty house points? A detailed report for McGonagall? All of the above?"
I'm proud of who I am. Can you say the same?
Draco stared at her with his eyes narrowed. Despite her anger, the girl made quite a miserable impression, and for some reason, he suddenly thought of Pansy, who had been walking around with the same sort of miserable look in her eyes. Without really thinking it through he sighed. "Just go, and try not to leave a mud trail," he said. The Gryffindor's eyes widened and she stared at him with a completely baffled expression on her face, seemingly unable to comprehend what just happened. "Weasley, I said go. Get out before I change my mind!" he snapped at her.
He didn't have to repeat himself. She instantly whirled around and hurried up the Marble Staircase, disappearing out of sight as quick as she could. The two Slytherins listened to the fading echo of Weasley's footsteps through the empty stone corridors. Once the castle was quiet again, Draco turned around, waving his wand to seal the great oak doors.
"Let's go," he muttered, marching through the corridor to Professor Sprout's office.
"Why did you let her go like that?" Astoria asked, clearly confused as she hurried to keep up with him. "I know you don't like her but you just had a legitimate reason to dock points, or worse, and you just let her go!"
You're a horrible person who did horrible things.
Draco shrugged. "I'm tired; I just want to go to bed."
The younger girl didn't respond and he suspected that she didn't believe him. He couldn't blame her; after all, it wasn't his true reason for letting Weasley off the hook. The problem was that he didn't really know why he had done it, but he feared it had something to do with Granger's words that constantly seemed to echo through his head.
Upon reaching the Herbology Professor's office, Draco knocked on the door and waited impatiently for it to open. After a little while, Sprout appeared in the doorway, making a sleepy impression. "Mr Malfoy, Ms Greengrass, thank you, I'll take it from here," she said as soon as she had closed the door behind her. "Mr Malfoy, have you sealed the doors?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very well. You may return to your Houses. Please don't linger in the corridors. Good night," she said as she turned on her heel and departed.
Draco and Astoria turned around and walked in the opposite direction. "I'll walk you to the dungeons," he told the brunette.
"Don't be silly," she replied. "There's really no need."
"Greengrass, you have no idea how good it feels to be out of that damned Head's Tower for a night," he told her in a drawl. "Please let me enjoy that feeling for a little longer."
I'm proud of who I am. Can you say the same?
The brunette smirked and shook her head. "Alright, alright. Whatever tickles your fancy."
They silently made their way back to the Entrance Hall and down the stone stairs that led to the dungeons. Soon they reached the wall that led to the Slytherin common room, and Astoria turned around, a small smile of amusement on her lips. "Well, gentleman, it seems I have found my way back here safe and sound," she said.
"At your service, miss," Draco smirked. "Gentleman, hmm? Whatever happened to dangerous fire-breathing reptile?"
Astoria snorted and raised an eyebrow. "I was making fun of your name because you mocked my friend's name. I said you didn't look much like one, you really should pay more attention to what people say around you."
"Blame the Ogden's Old," he shrugged carelessly. "Well, good night." He turned around to leave but a warm hand grabbed his arm. Turning back, he shot a questioning look at the younger Slytherin girl.
"If you decide to spend next weekend down here, look for me, alright?"
She smiled and turned, quickly muttering the password and slipping through the crack in the wall that briefly appeared to give access to the common room. Draco stared at the closing wall for several moments and then turned, making his way back to the Head's Tower, wondering about the younger Greengrass' behaviour.
~ X ~
"Glumbumble," he muttered once he stood in front of the Tower's entrance. The portrait slid to the left and Draco made his way inside, yawning. He was greeted by the smell of chicken soup and immediately his stomach began to grumble.
Upon entering the common room he found Granger sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up against her chest, wrapped in her blanket and blowing on a spoon with the hot comfort food. Her eyes were red and watery, and her nose was quite red. She had made a poor effort to tie her hair up in a bun and Draco noticed those infamous orange socks peeking out from underneath the blanket. She was sitting as close to the fire as the couch would allow but still seemed to be cold.
"Granger," he said by means of a greeting, unable to keep a small smirk off his face. If she felt the way she looked she must be feeling really terrible. "Don't you look… charming."
"Go away," came her grumpy and muffled response. The pronunciation of her words revealed that she had a sore throat and a blocked nose, and from the way she was glaring at him he could tell that she was still angry with him, though her expression lacked her usual fierceness.
This was the girl who had been driving him crazy for days now; whose words had been echoing through his head and made him question his every move, and Draco decided on the spot that he was going to take advantage of this moment of weakness. He sat down across from her and looked at her with amusement. "I quite like seeing you like this, actually," he said, watching with satisfaction as her cheeks reddened with anger.
"I'm sure," she grumbled, bringing the spoon with chopped leafy greens to her mouth.
"Aren't you a bit late catching colds? The epidemic has long passed and here you are, sniffing like you've got waterfalls coming from your nose, it's quite disgusting. Why aren't you down in the Infirmary drinking large amounts of Pepper-up Potion?" he sneered.
Granger sipped some more soup from the spoon and shot him a glare. "Why can't you just leave me alone? I really hope I'll infect you," she muttered darkly.
"Small chance," he shrugged. "I've felt off during the epidemic, but I had the good sense of immediately visiting Madam Pomfrey, so there's no way you could infect me. But please, do keep your filthy germs away from me."
As though on purpose, Granger hurriedly put the bowl of soup on the coffee table, brought her hands up to her face and sneezed three times, hilariously screwing up her facial expression in the process. She pulled out a blue handkerchief from underneath her blanket and blew her nose, sniffing weakly as she folded the fabric and put it away again.
"Gross," Draco muttered, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"No one is forcing you to stay here," the Head Girl snapped weakly as she reached for her soup again. She shivered, hugged the blanket closer and quickly brought another spoonful of soup and vegetables to her mouth.
"Actually, I wanted to have a word," he replied, the amusement from seeing her like this quickly ebbing away to be replaced with annoyance almost instantly. "About last week."
"I've got nothing to say to you," she groaned, at which he snorted scornfully.
"I've got quite some things to say to you, though. Like how you completely overreacted about Pansy being here."
"And we have to discuss this now?!"
"I don't see why not."
"Maybe because I'm not feeling very well right now?!" came Granger's irritable response. She finished her soup after spooning a bit more of the liquid food into her mouth and put the bowl down on the table with a bit more force than she had probably intended. She squeezed her eyes shut at the clattering sound of the spoon against the bowl and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself.
"You know, Granger," Draco said thoughtfully as he stared at the girl across from the coffee table with a look of disinterest, "it rather annoys me that you always seem to be allowed to say the worst things to me, but when I return the favour, you cross every line and suddenly the meaning of being fair has completely disappeared from your mind. I wonder who decided that you were the one making up all the rules, but I highly doubt it was a neutral voter."
The Head Girl had pulled the blanket up to her eyes, and the big brown, watery orbs glared at him. "Careful, Malfoy, you wouldn't want to give me the impression that my opinion actually means something to you, would you?"
"What if it does?" he grumbled without thinking, immediately regretting it.
It remained silent for a while. Draco eyed her warily and found it difficult to read the little parts of her face that were visible. "That would make very little sense," she answered finally. "And I would recommend you to explain yourself."
"You really seem to operate under the impression that I can't feel hurt."
Granger sniffed in an attempt to keep her nose from running. "I think you're able to feel insulted, but that's where your array of emotions seems to end."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he snapped quietly at her, narrowing his eyes as he watched how she grabbed the handkerchief to blow her nose once more.
She frowned and lowered the blue fabric a little. "Don't sound so shocked. You're a plain bully who seems unable to feel compassion. You completely shut down every bit of that emotion. If you refuse to care or understand that you hurt other people, how can you possibly feel hurt yourself?"
Draco abruptly rose from the chair and glared down at her, vaguely registering that he didn't intimidate her as much as he would have liked. "You think I like it when I hear what everyone's saying about me?" he snarled. "You think I like to hear that I'm a horrible person? That I like it when people call me a traitor or a coward? You think that I like to be reminded of this?" He yanked his left sleeve up, revealing his Dark Mark.
Granger lowered her eyes and broke off their eye contact to look at the faded black skull on his forearm. After a few long seconds, she looked up at him again. "Ah… So it does hurt, doesn't it?" she said softly. "To be condemned for something you are and can't change?"
He slowly lowered his sleeve again as he sank back down on the chair, realising she had cornered him; that she had tricked him into exposing his feelings to her.
"For years you've tormented everyone you considered inferior, and then it happens to you and suddenly everyone is crossing lines," she continued scornfully. "How many times have you said nasty things about Harry's parents? That was so funny, wasn't it? Remember when he said something back about your parents one time? You went completely mad and the Hogwarts castle was suddenly too small for the pair of you. How many times have you said nasty things about me for being Muggle-born? I mention your pitiful choices and your situation and suddenly I'm the one crossing lines? You should really grow up. You're the definition of hypocrisy."
"Choices?!" Draco snapped furiously. "Choices?! I didn't have any choices!"
"Everyone has choices!" Granger snapped back hoarsely. "There is always a choice! Your problem is that you've been so indoctrinated with your parents' beliefs that you never even considered that their decisions might not be the right ones. They made it out to be something fantastic and you blindly took their word for it. But then, after having talked the talk for so long you're asked to walk it too and suddenly you have to think for yourself; suddenly your decision wasn't as attractive as you thought it was!"
"You have no idea what I've been through and whether or not I had a choice!"
"That's what you hope, but I'm pretty sure I'm actually quite close to the truth. You're welcome to tell me your side of the story, though."
He glared at her for several long seconds, breathing heavily with anger. "He was going to kill them," he choked out. "What was I supposed to do, leave them behind? Let him kill them?"
"Malfoy," Granger sighed tiredly, "it's not about what you've done or attempted to do when you were cornered. It's about what got you there in the first place. We all know you were born on the wrong side of the fence, so to speak, but it was your choices that made you who you are today. You followed your father's decisions in being loyal only to those who were, in your eyes, on the winning side; the side that would be most profitable to you in the long run. You chose wrong."
"You make it all sound so easy," Draco spat, disgusted by her observations and comments. "You don't just leave your family behind simply because it's the right thing to do. People don't actually do that."
"Some people do," she countered softly. "You should ask your aunt Andromeda about it."
"She's not my aunt," he snapped immediately, acting on reflex.
"Just because she's burned off the family tree doesn't mean she's not your mother's sister anymore," came her annoyingly logical retort. "Look, it doesn't matter; all I'm trying to say is, yes, you have suffered in this War, but so have the rest of us. And you just so happen to have played a quite significant part in this War, on the wrong side, and your actions caused suffering and you know that. Stop hiding behind this façade of ignorance and start acknowledging your faults. Try to relate to people."
Draco let out a mirthless laugh. "Who do you want me to relate to? Why should I be the one who needs to relate to people? It's not like people relate to me either."
"You're such a child!" Granger snapped. "Stop pretending like you went through something no one else can possibly understand! In case you forgot, I happen to understand perfectly what you had to face! My parents were facing mortal danger as well, and just like you, it was because of something that wasn't even my fight to begin with. You were involved as a punishment for your father's failures; I was involved simply because I happen to be one of Harry Potter's best friends. Both our families were in danger and their fate rested on both our shoulders. I understand the constant fear, I've lived through it too!"
He stared at the slightly upset Gryffindor girl with a hollow feeling in his chest. He knew that what she was saying was true, and for the first time, he felt slightly more comfortable acknowledging that she saw through his façade and that she truly understood how he was feeling. The way she described the situation made perfect sense and it was exactly how he had experienced it. He opened his mouth a few times just to shut it again instantly. He simply didn't know what to say.
"It won't hurt you to allow yourself to feel compassion every once in a while, you know," Granger said softly after a lengthy silence. "I know you're a proud person but compassion is not a sign of weakness, and when people are being compassionate toward you they're not automatically pitying you. The War may be over but we're far from fine, and you would make it all a lot easier if you could just… stop being so determined to hide behind what you've done wrong."
"Well," Draco said quietly, "it's not like I've done much good."
"A wise man once said that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be," the Head Girl commented hoarsely, wiping her nose with the blue handkerchief. "And if he thought you were a lost cause, you wouldn't be here. But you have to stop hiding behind your past. If you don't want to be better, you won't be, it's simple as that."
"Nothing is ever that simple," he argued stubbornly.
He desperately wanted to get back into that comfortable place from before, where they didn't have understandings and similar struggles, but he knew that place was long gone. He hated the way she could trick him into exposing himself; the way she dared to talk to him. In many ways, she was still the same insufferable Gryffindor she'd always been, but he knew his feelings for her had changed around a month ago. He had developed a certain amount of respect for her and he wasn't sure how to deal with that. He also wasn't sure how to handle the fact that she seemed to understand him better than anyone else. It unnerved him.
Granger got to her feet, keeping the blanket wrapped around her like a cape. "I'd say it's worth a shot," she said with another weak sniff. "I'm off to bed now. Good night."
"Night," Draco replied with a grumble as he watched her shamble through the room and up the stairs.
Once she had disappeared out of view he closed his eyes and let out a long string of air, unable to wrap his head around the fact that he had just opened up to Granger of all people, in ways he had never opened up to anyone else, as well as the fact that she actually understood him. He was positive that, somewhere along the way, he had lost his damn mind.