It's A Shame

Society is a rather complex thing. It has different planes and levels and facets, especially in regard to acquaintances and relationships. There is an invisible rule book that one must read in order to function in any type of society. Most people read the rule book without ever knowing it. However, there are a select few who are able to throw the invisible rule book out of the invisible (and quite proverbial) window.

Draco Malfoy considered himself a part of this select few. He was too rich and important to care about societal rules that applied to him. Though, I must tell you, this mind set did not stop him from believing that everyone poor and unimportant must follow the rules of society. If he could consider you, in any way possible, below him, then you had to follow the rules. If you didn't, then you were a waste of space, body, air, and anything else you were using up.

He was just that much of a git.

But git or not, Draco Malfoy was still partly responsible for ridding the Wizarding World of evil. The other parts were, almost regrettably in his mind, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and any other member of the Order of the Phoenix.

It was a shame that he hadn't been able to do it himself, but he figured it was at least good that Voldemort was gone. At least he didn't have anyone telling him what to do, apart from his mother (who he believed was quickly going senile).

"What's the matter Malfoy?" asked Harry, an annoying smile on his face. "Can't get a girl to dance with you?"

Malfoy grimaced, sweeping his harsh blue eyes over the guests. They were at a Ministry ball for some charity event. It was supposed to be important and exclusive. He couldn't help but feel that the Ministry's standards were falling irrevocably. Harry Potter was, for once, a wanted reprieve from having to socialize with them.

"I can get any girl I want, Potter," he said. "I just don't want any of those."

Harry's smile increased. It was still weird to talk to Malfoy, but after the last battle between good and evil, they had formed a forced friendship. It wasn't like the deep friendship that Harry shared with Ron and Hermione. It had different limitations and expectations; it was a silent thank you. Harry was saying "Hey, thanks for helping out the Order," and Malfoy was saying "Thanks for getting rid of that pain in arse, Voldemort."

"Where's Pansy?"

Draco shrugged. "Probably puking. I saw her down a few bottles of rum earlier."

"Rum? Where'd she get rum?"

Draco shrugged, unconcerned a close friend of his could possibly be seriously ill. "I think Weasley's looking for you."

Harry followed Draco's gaze. Ginny was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by glorious witches and wizards talking happily about things that glorious witches and wizards talk about. Her keen eyes scanned the over the tops of their heads. Hermione was standing next to her, surveying the room as well. She spotted Harry and Draco and poked Ginny's arm.

"I think your object of affection is over there," Harry heard Hermione say with a laugh, as she steered Ginny in his direction.

Ginny's determined expression melted into a smile. "Where've you been, Harry?"she asked, giving him a small kiss on his cheek. "I've been looking all over for you." She spared a glance at Malfoy, a forced smile on her face. "Come on," she said, turning back to Harry "let's dance."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, perhaps protest at having to dance, but Ginny had latched onto his arm and began to pull him out onto the dance floor.

The departure of Harry and Ginny, left Hermione and Draco standing next to each other. She seemed unaffected by his presence and kept her eyes on Ginny and Harry dancing.

"You know," said Malfoy after a few seconds of silence, "it's a shame."

Hermione arched her left eyebrow. "What is, Malfoy?" she asked cautiously.

"That you're so smart. Almost makes you respectable."

Her right eyebrow joined the left one. "It's a shame you're so rich. Almost makes you tolerable," she replied before walking away with a grimace.

She heard Draco's hard laugh trail behind her and she just shook her head, wondering why he insisted on insulting her. Most often, his insults were delivered when Hermione was the only one to hear his practiced wit (for surely he sat at home thinking of horribly clever things to say; he couldn't just come up with those things spontaneously), and she was never bothered by it.

Anyone else would have gotten bored by now. Draco had, after all, let up considerably on the Weasleys, when he realized it wasn't nearly as fun taking jabs at their financial state when they were actually pretty well off. The Weasleys had been thanked for their participation in killing Voldemort with a rather nice sum of galleons that was currently sitting in a vault at Gringott's earning a nice percentage of interest. He had even stopped making fun of Harry and his permanent scar.

But Hermione was subject to limitless abuse concerning her appearance, family, hobbies, and personality traits. He just never quit, even though her hair wasn't nearly as bushy as it as when she was in school, and she wasn't nearly as bossy either.

In reality, the only reason he really insulted her anymore was because he couldn't seem to get her out of his mind. It wasn't that he liked her, but that she never seemed affected by him. He would revile everything she loved, and she would simply raise her eyebrows, reply with something equally insulting, and walk off.

It drove him mad, and he was beginning to think that Hermione Granger had no heart, which, theoretically, went against everything she tried to be: kind, caring, righteous.

The idea that Hermione had no heart was a rather ironic thing to think of her, considering that many felt Draco didn't have a heart either.

But he did have a heart, just like Hermione. He had had his feelings hurt more than once, and he chose to show that through anger and superiority, instead of crying like a Pansy. Hermione chose to show her hurt through good sensibility and a calm demeanor, although she had relied on the "silent treatment" a few times.

Their natural tendencies to mask their hurt led them to a stalemate. He would insult her, she would insult him, and they would never know that the other was affected by what he or she said.

The cycle seemed perpetual.

Draco sighed and stayed in his little corner until the glass in his hand had gone dry, and he ventured off in search of a refill. As he picked up a new glass of some reddish liquid that looked as if it might be some type of wine, he tried to remember why he had come to this event in the first place. He couldn't even remember what charity he was supposed to be sponsoring and he had the idea that he hadn't really sponsored it to begin with. It was probably something his father had donated to once, in hopes that the Malfoy name would stay free of any evil entanglements.

The night was starting to look up when he spotted a young brunette eyeing him flirtatiously. Unfortunately, when he made his way over to her, he bumped into Hermione.

Hermione rubbed her shoulder. "Are you alright Malfoy?" she asked. It wasn't like him to literally bump into people. He was always guarded, keeping his eyes out for potential allies and enemies. She had no recollection of him ever taking a wrong step and knocking into something.

He sneered. "Yes. Why?"

She shook her head. "Never mind."

Hermionebrushed past him, and he caught a glimpse of something that confused him. He saw her eyes. She looked worried, and what confused him was the reason she looked worried. Certainly she wasn't worried about him? She didn't care about him. She, more or less, ignored him on a ritualistic basis. For a brief second, she had shown a tiny bit of emotion towards him, and he wondered why.

It didn't help that the candlelight had somehow heightened the color of her eyes, causing them to sparkle with a cinnamon fire, deep inside her pupils. He blinked, trying to wipe away the sight of her worried eyes and continued his way towards the young brunette.

The young brunette was gone, however, and he decided that his sorrows would fare much better if they had the companionship of a nice bottle of fire-whiskey. He loosened his tie as he left the room.

Hermione watched him leave, her eyes narrowed at his back. He had been acting normally earlier that evening, but an hour later, he was bumping into her and leaving a ball that was overrun with rich, gorgeous-looking witches, all of whom would have giggled with delight had he walked up to any one of them and smirked.

Draco Malfoy was not the type of person to pass up an opportunity to shag an admiring fan of his.

She thought about following him, asking him if he was alright, give him a chance to pour out his troubles, but she quickly decided that her help would not be appreciated, and her efforts would simply be mocked. There was no need to even try when it came to Malfoy. Just let him be.

But there was still a nagging worry in the back of her mind, and she resolved herself to observe him for the next few days, to see if this strange behavior was consistent.

end of chapter one

(tbc)