Seek and You Shall Find

Chapter 3: Pity No One

Hogwarts was not quite the same as she had remembered. True, the war had not affected the walls of the school, but she knew that the inhabitants were wearier and more cautious. She had seen a sour-looking Snape, as well as McGonagall and Hagrid, the latter greeting her with a choking hug. It wasn't until she was in Dumbledore's office that she saw Malfoy. She nodded in his direction, trying to forget about the other day. It was a failed attempt when all he did was smirk at her. Hermione clenched her fists, trying hard to hold back a retort. Malfoy knew this, and he only seemed more pleased with himself.

Dumbledore invited the two to sit, and began to talk. "As you two know, you are the new additions to the staff- Hermione, Charms Professor, and Draco, Flying instructor and Professor Snape's apprentice. I realize both of you have lost dear ones during the war, but it is no longer your part to mourn. Both of you know when meals start, and I expect to see both of you there. I know you two have not always been on agreeing terms, but if you two could be a good influence on the students and overcome your disagreements..."

Hermione, one who would usually pay attention to when an honorable person were speaking, was lost in thought. Something about what Dumbledore had just said. Both of you have lost dear ones...Who did Draco lose? Her thoughts were scattered, and soon lead to what Ginny had said the night before. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she realized that they were being excused, and exited Dumbledore's regal office. Feeling that should turn a new page and start afresh, she gently touched Malfoy's arm. "Draco-" She was stopped by the look on his face.

"You forget your place, Mudblood." She had reached out to an unblemished rose only to be stung by one of its thorns.

"Mudblood. Is that all I'll ever mount up to you? You realize, Malfoy, that all those years in Hogwarts, you were not the top student. I was. It's time you acknowledged that. And muggle-born or not, you cannot let this immature matter blind you."

Silence followed, then Malfoy's retort. "Blind me? You would think I wouldn't be able to see your ugly face. I would rather be blind than face you." He turned on his heel and walked away.

"Mrs. Granger." She whipped around to see Dumbledore looking down at her through his crescent spectacles. "Draco does have a good heart. It is hard for him to show it."

"A good heart? I move to differ. No offense. Sir."

"No offense taken, but Hermione, you forget that Draco has gone through tough times just like you."

"I'm sure, just like everybody, huh." Hermione took on a sarcastic tone she later regretted.

"You forget what lineage Draco comes from. The only Malfoy heir, his father wanted him to follow Voldemort. Draco had other plans. In objecting his father, he had not only his father after him, but Voldemort himself. He saw Draco as weak, and blamed Narcissa. She was killed, and Draco had no choice." His eyes softened. "It's the way he's been brought up. Give him time"

"First Ginny and now you."

"It would be improper of me to say this, but Miss Ginevra Weasley is one of the smarter Weasley's. You may want to listen to her." Dumbledore's voice carried a certain finality that told Hermione that she was dismissed. Mumbling a goodbye, she excused herself and walked to her rooms.

She stopped in front of a portrait, the subject presently gone and wooing a peasant on the second floor. Annoyed that the guardian to her rooms was absent and occupied, she traveled to her sanctuary - the library. Taking a copy of Howarts: A History, she settled herself and became lost from cover to cover.

"Figured you would be here." She looked up startled at the voice, but on seeing a pair of gray eyes, looked back down to her book. "Would also have figured you would have that book memorized."

"What are you doing here?"

"I believe it's a public library, Granger. And you know what that means."

She sighed and continued reading. He continued to stare at her, sending shivers down her back. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"You've changed." The sudden softness in his voice alarmed her, and she looked up. The outside corners of his eyes had wilted, bearing a message of vulnerability.

"That's all you have to say? I've changed? You came here just to tell me that I've changed?"

He became stiff. He opened his mouth probably to spit out a retort, but Hermione spoke first. "I'm...sorry." Those words. They were so hard to say. "Dumbledore told me-"

"The old rat knows nothing."

"He told me about your mother and I just wanted to say I-"

"I don't need to be pitied by anyone, especially you, Granger." His eyes narrowed, and his hands were jammed into the pockets of his robes. Hermione could guess it was taking all of his strength not to hex her on the spot. "I don't need anything from you. Your pity, your sympathy, your-"

"Fine! You know what? I thought maybe we could finally have a truce between us or something. The war's over, Malfoy. Whether I'm a Mudblood or not, it should mean nothing to you. There's no more cause for us to claw at each other's throat. At least I've realized this. Either you come to realize this as well, or one of these days you'll realize too late the mistakes you made." She stood up, and stormed off, tears prickling her eyes.

Draco crumpled into a chair, resting his head in his hands. This girl. No, woman. She drives me crazy. I hate her! I hate her, I hate her, I hate... He knew as he thought this that it wasn't true. He didn't hate her. How could he? She was...a goddess. The way she held herself, the way her eyes flared with passion whenever she defended and fought for herself, the way she...Stop this! You hate her, remember? She's a Mudblood! What can she do for you? He shook his head over and over, the inner fight rumbling through his head. Merlin, he thought. I need a drink.

Glad that the old geezer was back in his portrait, she muttered the password and entered, everything now a blur as tears silently slid down her flushed cheeks. What had she ever done to deserve this? Was it just because she had been a friend with the boy-who-lived and the weasel? She sobbed into her pillow, feeling once again like a helpless girl. She whispered to the air, a desperate look on her face. "Ron...Ron...I need you, Ron. Why did you leave? Why?" She continued to mutter incomprehensible words and finally fell into a light sleep that was frequently visited by Ron's death.

When the sun rose, Hermione was already awake, afraid to close her eyes. Still early for breakfast, she decided to sooth herself with a bath. Leaving her clothes on the ground, she walked to the bathroom and started the water, putting lavender scented bubbles in the tub. A knock at the front portrait carried Hermione away from the bathroom. Quickly wrapping a bathrobe around her, she walked to the portrait and opened it a crack to find him.