Fidelitas

Chapter Three

Monday arrived too quickly for Hermione. Not only was she not looking forward to her meeting with Draco, she was exhausted and irritable from keeping such late hours watching the Marauder's Map. Watching for suspicious behavior and trying to find a pattern to the movements was her job, while Ron and Harry worked at thwarting Wormtail's attempts to enter the castle. Right now, though, Hermione was more confused than ever. Wormtail's approaches becoming more frequent and more daring, for one thing, and there was also some strange new behavior from a student she had been watching. It seemed that Collier, the second year Slytherin who had been seen meeting Crabbe and Goyle, was trying to spy on some of the teachers.

Hermione had watched in confusion the first time the boy approached Snape's classroom in the middle of the night. Originally she had assumed it was for some prank, such as stealing an ingredient or two. But Collier had not gone to the classroom's ingredients cupboard, instead he had made his way into Snape's small office. When Hermione had notified Ron of this, Ron went to look and reported that the younger boy was sitting at Snape's desk going through the papers in the drawers. A few nights later, Hermione watched as Collier did the same thing with McGonagall's office off the Transfiguration classroom. She was somewhat surprised that the teachers' offices weren't warded against intrusion, but it seemed that Collier had managed to get in regardless of whatever enchantments might have existed.

This was not the only strange behavior she had noticed in the boy, however. The meetings with Crabbe and Goyle had become an almost nightly event, and Hermione had watched as Collier went out to the grounds very late at night, often after visiting the kitchens. She could only assume that he was somehow leaving food or messages for Wormtail. It seemed safe to assume that the boy was a spy for his parents, watching Snape to determine his loyalties, aiding Wormtail, and possibly spying on Harry as well. Harry had mentioned that someone had been into his locker in the Quidditch hut; Hermione wouldn't have been surprised to find out that it was Collier.

With all of this to think about, the last thing Hermione wanted to deal with was an argument with Draco. Right now she was too busy trying to deal with real Death Eaters to spend time explaining to Draco what was wrong with their mentality. And she wasn't entirely convinced that it was worth her time, anyway. Even though he had said he wasn't sure he wanted to follow his father anymore, Hermione wasn't convinced that Draco wouldn't join up with Voldemort regardless. All of this newfound interest in Muggles and his supposed change of heart weren't entirely convincing, no matter how much he protested that it was genuine. Hermione was determined to get to the truth of what was happening. If he was just playing with her, she had no intention of wasting her time.

She still hadn't told anyone about Draco's sudden change of heart because of her uncertainty. Hermione was sure that Ron and Harry would immediately believe that it was a trick on Draco's part. While they had come to accept the majority of the Slytherins, her friends were still suspicious of Draco because of their past encounters with the blond boy. As well, their experiences with the Amicabilitas potion had been less than successful.

For all the potions had caused Crabbe to act civilly towards Ron, the effects hadn't changed much of the rest of his personality. Crabbe obviously still hated Harry and all that he stood for, and his loyalty to his father's master never lessened. Ron had become sick of the awkward conversations they had had, with Crabbe's prejudices constantly coming up, and finally managed to convince the lumbering Slytherin that he, Ron, should write the papers for Potions class. Happy for an excuse to avoid work, Crabbe had agreed. When Harry and Hermione teased Ron about his eagerness to do extra homework, the redhead had pulled a face and explained that he was more than willing to put in a few extra hours if it meant avoiding spending time with the other boy.

Harry hadn't been stuck in the unpleasant situation of being friends with Goyle. It seemed that Slytherin was incapable of brewing the potion properly, and so Snape had finally given up and allowed Harry and Goyle to write slightly shorter essays on their own. Harry had been relieved by this, he told Hermione one evening, because the thought of being magically enchanted into friendship with someone who wanted him dead was too confusing to contemplate. When Hermione nodded without responding, Harry had switched topics suddenly, realizing that his friend was in a similar situation.

Hermione felt somewhat guilty for not telling Ron and Harry about her situation, but she knew there was no way that they would have an objective view. She wasn't entire certain that she had one herself, but since there was no one she felt she could talk with, things weren't becoming any clearer. It was hard, leaving the common room Monday night to go to the library, smiling at Ron's teasing about watching out for Draco and turning down Harry's offer of company and protection.

She didn't feel like she needed to be afraid of Draco anymore, but Hermione knew that his new attitude could be an act. She knew that the potions they had drunk were not the friendship potions, though if she still hadn't found out what they were. And even if the strange indigo liquid had been another version of a friendship potion, it wouldn't explain why the boy was questioning his beliefs. Either he had actually changed somehow, for some reason, or it was all a trick, an act. More confusingly, she wasn't certain how she would feel if she found out it were an act. The thought upset her for reasons she couldn't put her finger on.

For four years, Draco had been cruel towards her and now that he had undergone this seeming change of heart, she had no idea how she felt about him. It had been much easier when he was so nasty, then Hermione had been able to dismiss him from her mind as a jerk not worth wasting her time. But this new Draco who actually talked with her, who seemed to respect at least some her opinions, who had given her his cloak when she was cold... this new Draco was not someone she knew how to deal with. She had no idea how she felt about him. And the thought that all of it could be just a game, a trick he was playing on her for some sick reason, hurt her deeply.

Draco leaned against one of the long tables just inside the library doors, trying to keep his foot from twitching with impatience. It wasn't that Hermione was late; he knew that she would never be anything but punctual, but he was eager to see her and talk with her. For the past few days, his mind had been occupied with all of the things they had discussed at their last meeting, and he was sure that this time they could have a good conversation without a huge fight. If only Hermione would show up.

There was a rustling of fabric from the hallway and Draco turned to see Hermione come bustling into the library, robes flapping, her hair wild and tangled as ever. He smiled as he watched her approach, a look of fierce concentration on her face. She had nearly passed the spot where he was standing when Draco quietly spoke her name, causing her to stop abruptly.

"Deep thoughts there Hermione?" he asked, watching her juggle her books.

"Just planning things out," she responded, not looking him in the face.

"Well, I was hoping that maybe we could ditch the study session and go for a walk," Draco said, a little hesitantly.

"Ditch the study session? You mean take our little talk somewhere where we won't get in trouble for yelling, don't you?" Hermione eyed Draco with suspicion.

"I was hoping to avoid yelling tonight," Draco said, "but I did think that it would be nice to go somewhere other than the library to talk."

"Well, I suppose that that would be okay. Let's just get this essay work out the way and then we can go for this walk."

"Fine by me. I've made the changes we talked about, so if you just want to let me take your part, I can start copying it tomorrow."

"You don't want to read it over and talk about it?" Hermione asked.

"Well, if I have any questions, I can ask you tomorrow. And if you want to read my updated copy, I can give it to you and you can give it back to me tomorrow. Is that acceptable?" Draco's voice began to have a sarcastic edge.

"That's fine by me. Here's my part," Hermione said, rummaging in her satchel and pulling out a scroll of parchment. Draco watched her, marveling at how oblivious she was to his reactions. When it came to schoolwork, Hermione was unbelievably focused. As she dropped the lengthy scroll on the desk in front of him, Draco sighed.

"I really wish there were some other way of doing this besides copying it all out again! Between these revisions and Binn's mini-essays on all fourteen Wizarding Councils of the eighteenth century I swear my hand is becoming permanently cramped as though it's holding a quill."

Hermione chuckled quietly before responding.

"I know what you mean. That is one thing I really miss about Muggle school. They let us use typewriters and computers for our assignments. Outside of penmanship class, most of my teachers insisted on us handing things in typed."

"Typed?" Draco looked puzzled.

"Typed. You know like... Oh wait, of course you don't know. Now this is an area where I think Muggles are way smarter than wizards. I know that there are printing presses around here, but the typewriter is one of the best things ever invented. Well, maybe the computer is even cooler." Hermione smirked slightly at the glazed look on Draco's face as she casual tossed off the completely foreign terms.

"Fine, I give up," Draco huffed when Hermione didn't continue. "What are these tie-priters and compewters you're talking about?"

Hermione laughed again, loud enough to draw a warning look from Madame Pince.

"The day that Draco Malfoy expressed interest in something Muggle. Write this one down!" Draco glared at her. "Alright, what they are are advanced technologies Muggles use to speed up writing and printing. A typewriter has a whole bunch of keys that each has a letter on them. When you hit the key, a lever with the letter on it moves up and hits the paper and leaves a printed copy of the letter. It sounds complicated, but some people can type really, really fast, way faster than anyone I've seen can write.

"Now computers, they're even more interesting. I don't really know how they work - I would have learned if I'd stayed in Muggle school, but - well, what they do is the same thing with keys, but it's all stored inside this box instead of put right onto the paper, and you can move the bits of text around and adjust them and change how they look and all sorts of stuff. Then you hit print and it all comes out of a machine called a printer. It's about as close as Muggles come to Magic."

"How does it work?" Draco asked.

"I told you, I don't know. People spend years figuring out the exact codes, which are like spells but different, and writing the programs to make the computers do what they do. I always find it kinda confusing, but lots of my old friends are really good at it. Course, they learn it in school now."

"Do you miss doing that Muggle stuff? Not learning about it?"

"Why would I miss it? Magic is much more interesting."

"But you're a Muggle, and I know that you take Muggle studies. So don't you wish that you got to do the Muggle school things too?"

"No! I'm a witch, Malfoy," Hermione said rather loudly. "When are you going to get that through your head? I'm a witch, not a Muggle, and I belong at Hogwarts!"

Draco watched Hermione's face darken with anger; he stood suddenly and swept the books and parchment on the table into his bag. Grabbing Hermione's arm, he turned her and hurried to the door.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, pulling her arm away from him.

"Keeping you from detention. Pince was approaching with a look in her eye. I though maybe we should leave before she could get really mad."

"Thanks, I suppose," Hermione said sullenly as they made their way through the library doors. Once they were part of the way down the corridor, she stopped. Draco turned to look at her quizzically.

"What?" he asked. "Did we leave something on the table?"

"No. I'm just waiting for you to give me my stuff back so I can go home," she said, staring at her shoes.

"But we're supposed to talk. That was the point of meeting early," he pointed out. "And if you say that we're fighting, I'm going to laugh at you. I didn't mean to make you feel bad by calling you a Muggle, and I was not trying to pick a fight or ignore your feelings or whatever it is you don't want me to do. I do want to talk tonight, and I think I've been pretty good so far."

Draco stopped and took a deep breath. It didn't look as if much of what he had said was getting through, but finally Hermione lifted her head and pushed the hair that had fallen in her face out of the way. She gave Draco a sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that. I did agree to talk tonight. I'm just a little sensitive on the whole issue, I guess. But at least let me carry some of the stuff you have there. It is mine, so I should help."

She reached out her hand, and after a moment's pause, Draco passed her a few of the texts he was holding. When she started to shuffle through them, he interrupted.

"Look, we'll sort through whose stuff is whose when we get somewhere we can sit. It'll be easier. Shall we just get out of this hallway?"

"Sure. Where to?"

"I thought maybe we could head outside. It's not that cold, and that way we won't be interrupted."

"It's late October, Draco," Hermione said caustically, "which means it's pretty cold out to those of us without ice water for blood. I think I'd rather stay somewhere with some heat."

"Okay, fine. Why don't we just find an empty classroom, then? You can cozy up with the torches if you get cold. How's that?"

Hermione grinned. "Your ears get red when you're being snappish. It's funny. And lay off the sarcasm, cause I can beat you at that game any day."

"Oh really? I don't think you could handle my powers of wit. I learned at the foot of the most sarcastic person to walk the earth."

"Well, I wouldn't deny you your little delusions," Hermione shot back, hiding a smile, "but I don't feel comfortable fighting a battle of wits against a novice."

"Novice!" Draco snorted. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into. I haven't shown you half my skills."

"Fine. Midnight in the highest tower then?"

Draco choked on his planned retort when he registered the mischievous grin on Hermione's face.

"You were just getting me annoyed for fun!" he said accusingly.

"Well, yes. I did mention liking those red ears. And when you get more flustered, you get all pink in the cheeks too."

"I'll fluster you," Draco said, only realizing too late how stupid the remark sounded. He closed his mouth firmly, but felt his cheeks burning under Hermione's amused gaze.

"I doubt that," Hermione laughed. "Let's get somewhere more private before we get in trouble for noise in the halls or something. I'm sure Filch would get in a huff if he saw two students actually having fun."

"Oh no! Not students having fun. Not to mention the trauma it might be for some poor first year to see Hermione 'Serious' Granger laughing and joking," Draco mocked as the pair started to walk down the hall.

"Especially when they realized that Draco 'Superiority' Malfoy was making the Muggle-born laugh rather than cry," Hermione chuckled.

"I never made you cry," Draco said. "You always had some snappy comeback. Hey, you even smacked me once."

"That doesn't mean you didn't make me cry, Draco," was Hermione's quiet response.

"What? No. I can't see you crying over the stuff I said. That's ridiculous," he said seriously, trying to see her profile through the thick hair that had fallen beside her face. "It is ridiculous, right?"

There was no answer from the girl beside him, and Draco started looking around the corridor somewhat frantically. He sighed with relief when he spotted a doorway ahead. Walking quickly, he made his way to the door and grabbed the doorknob. He sighed with relief as it turned under his fingers. Standing back to let Hermione pass into the room, Draco tried to think of a way of smoothing over the sudden turn in the conversation. Before he could come up with anything, though, Hermione stopped in the middle of the room and spoke.

"Yes, Draco, you made me cry. A fair bit. But don't get a swelled head, or a guilt complex, what have you. It wasn't just you. It was everyone around here who thinks the way that you do. That we Muggle-borns are less than the rest of you. We aren't. We can be just as good at magic as anyone else. And just because my parents are dentists instead of wizards doesn't mean I'm not as good a witch as the next girl."

Hermione stopped suddenly. Draco heard her draw in a ragged breath and sniffle quietly. He took a step towards her but, as though she sensed his movement, she moved further away from him. Draco grimaced and stepped back to close the door and lean against it.

"I'm surprised you wasted any time on us," he said finally. "I would have thought that your being top of the class and stuff was more than enough proof that you belonged here."

"Oh please," Hermione snorted. "That just makes people hate me more." She cut off Draco's response with a waved hand. "You know it's true. And anyway, I have to be best in the class. I have to prove that even a Muggle-born can do well at magic and that it doesn't matter about blood. But when I do people just say that I'm an obsessive bookworm and a show-off and hate me for that. I get hated no matter what. Just because my stupid parents can't do magic."

Draco couldn't stay rooted by the door. Hermione's shoulders were shaking with anger or tears. He couldn't tell which but whatever it was was making him uncomfortable. Pulling out his handkerchief, he moved quietly over to the distraught girl.

"Here," he said, proffering the piece of cloth.

Hermione looked up, and Draco saw tears in her eyes. His breath seemed to disappear from his lungs. He gestured with the handkerchief again; when she took it, he looked away suddenly. Only after he heard the sounds of her blowing her nose did he venture to look back. The tears were gone, but there was still a vulnerability to Hermione's face that Draco wasn't sure he could handle.

"I don't mean to call my parents stupid," she said suddenly. "I love them. But sometimes I wish with all my heart that I could have come from a wizard family so that I would be accepted without having to prove myself so much. Oh, I know that lots of Muggle-born people don't feel this way, but it's really important to me, and some people have been so hard on me that..."

"Meaning me," Draco said quietly. "I've been so nasty to you, is what you mean."

"Well, you've been pretty bad, but there's Pansy too, and lots of other students. Someday I wish I could go back to that very first time on the train and I would lie about where I came from. Make up some obscure place that no one had heard of and pretend to be from there, just with a magical family."

Hermione looked down at the handkerchief she had been twisting between her hands. After a few seconds she moved to sit on one of the desks behind her.

"It sounds so horrible. I love my parents and I don't want to change them. They're super parents. They're smart and kind and totally supportive of me being here at Hogwarts. They have no problems with the magical world. Well, I think it confuses them a bit, but, really, they have no problems with me being a witch. I just wish that it went both ways, that no one here cared that I'm Muggle."

"But you said it yourself: you're not Muggle, you're a witch," Draco pointed out.

"But in so many people's eyes, I am a Muggle. Don't you get it? I grew up in that world for eleven years before I even knew that magic existed. I can't turn my back on the fact that I am from both worlds. Even if I want to, I can't because that's where my family is. And I will never turn my back on them. I might not always feel as proud of them as I should, but I still love them."

"So this is why you've been fighting me so much," Draco said, sitting in the chair across from Hermione.

"Of course. This isn't just some academic debate for me, Draco. You know this. This one has emotional ties for me, and so I can just argue like some class topic. I don't think that anyone should think about it that way anyway. It's more than just some ideals and concepts, these are people we're talking about and there is nothing that should make us think of one group of people as less than another."

"But this isn't about two equal groups, is it Hermione?" asked Draco, realizing that he was treading on shaky ground. "Muggles and Wizards are very different."

"But does that mean that Wizards have to hate Muggles and look down on them? I don't understand that at all. Why can't you just ignore the existence of Muggles, live and let live? Have you ever even met a Muggle, Draco, a real non-magical person?" demanded Hermione.

"Well, no, I don't think I ever have, except when we went to the World Cup last year. But I didn't meet them, I just saw the man when my father was talking with him."

"So why would you have any reason to care about them one way or another? They've never done anything to you, so what do you care about them?"

"I don't care about them at all, I guess," he admitted.

"And you could happily live in the wizard's world without ever meeting another Muggle for as long as you live. If their existence bothers you, why not just ignore them? It's not as though hating Muggles is going to make them all disappear. Why waste your time?"

"I'm a little confused here, Hermione," Draco said. "Aren't you supposed to try to convince me to love all Muggles and accept them and stuff?"

"Why bother? I don't feel like banging my head against a brick wall. I know it's going to take more than a few little chats to change your mind, if you even want to change it at all. I just want to convince you to drop the blind hatred and let be. But I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm tired and I'd like to sort out our school stuff before we have anymore deep discussion."

Hermione slid off the desk she was sitting on and began to rummage through the pile of books she'd been carrying, sorting out her own texts. Draco watched in confusion.

"What did I do to upset you now?" he asked. "I thought that I was being good with the debate."

"You were fine, Draco," said Hermione curtly, "but I want to deal with this now."

"Look, I'm sorry about bringing up what I did, making you feel bad. I'm glad you felt you could tell me about it, though."

"Well, I'm not," she snapped. "I don't understand why I told you that stuff. It's not something I talk about. With anyone."

"Not even..." Draco trailed off at the fierce look on Hermione's face.

"No, not even Harry and Ron. They have their own problems. I don't want to add mine. I have no idea why I told you, of all people."

"Oh, me of all people. The nasty Slytherin boy, right?" Draco could feel his own anger rising.

"Well, yeah, actually," Hermione said. "It doesn't exactly make sense to spill all of that to the president of the Muggle-eradication league."

Hermione watched as Draco's face went white. She snorted slightly at the realization that she had shocked him speechless. Perhaps now she could get a few answers from him, now that he wasn't interrupting every other word. Pulling a chair from a nearby desk, she sat across from the blond boy. She decided that this time the topic would be decided by her, and if Draco didn't like it, well, he could go stuff himself.

"So Draco," she began abruptly, "I want to know what brought on this interest in talking with a Muggle-born about prejudice. The real reason. I know there's more than just Snape's potion behind it."

Draco looked shocked, then stared down at the table. "It's just curiosity," he muttered.

"Yeah," Hermione snorted. "And I'm a supermodel. Don't try to fool me, Draco. This time three years ago you were rejoicing in the thought of the extermination of all Muggle-borns. Last spring you all but threatened my life. Somehow I'm not able to believe that you've become curious all of a sudden."

Hermione knew that she was being harsh, but she was tired and her patience was wearing thin. Still, when Draco lifted his head and met her eyes, Hermione was surprised to see that his skin was still chalky white.

"It's nothing important. Nothing we need to talk about," he said finally, breaking eye contact. Again he stared down at the table. His hands were clenched into fists.

"Actually, it is. I don't trust you further than I can throw you," Hermione stated. "Until you explain your change of heart, I don't think we're going to bother with these discussions. I want to know that this is not some trick you and your family came up with to, oh I don't know, gain my trust and then kidnap me and give me to the Death Eaters or something."

"It's not!" Draco's head shot up, and he reached one hand across the table to grasp hers. "I wouldn't do that. Really. I just want to know more about these things, Muggles and such. Believe me when I say this is not a trick."

Hermione pulled her hand from Draco's grip. Pushing her hair back from her face, she leaned across the table.

"Excuse me if I don't believe you. You as much as told Harry and Ron that you wanted me dead. And now you tell me that you don't think you want to be a Death Eater, and you want to have chats with me about my family history. That's more than a little strange, Draco."

"You weren't complaining before," he pointed out.

"I was probably in shock before," Hermione said. "I did a lot of thinking these past few days and I've realized that I don't like whatever's going on. It's seriously unnatural. So unless you've got a really good explanation, I'm going to leave you with that essay to transcribe and go back to my friends. You know, the people who've never rejoiced in the possibility of my death."

"Would you stop saying that!" Draco grabbed her wrist.

Hermione yanked her arm away again and rubbed it. Draco noticed the small action. With a deep sigh, he pulled his hand back and rubbed his face.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wish that you would stop talking about that."

"What? That you wished me dead? I'm sorry, Draco," she drawled sarcastically, "but that's not exactly something I'm about to forgive and forget. It's a little too personal."

"Look, I don't want you dead now. I don't want anybody dead." Draco's voice cracked slightly on the last word.

Hermione looked up from examining her wrist, surprised. She realized that she had probably been more nasty than was necessary, but she was didn't feel like playing silly games anymore. Still, she hadn't expected for her remarks to cause such a strong reaction. She looked questioningly at Draco.

The blond boy had propped his elbows on the table and was resting his head in his hands, covering his eyes. Hermione watched him for a few moments and was about to ask if he was okay when Draco scrubbed his hands violently against his cheeks, then sat up straighter in his chair. He threaded his fingers together and rested his hands on the table. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak.

"Okay, I'll explain," he said. "But I don't want anyone else to know about this. Ever. I've never told anyone else, so if I ever hear back about it, I'll know who started it."

Hermione looked at him in surprise. There was serious look on his face that she had never seen before, and he was staring at her intently. She held Draco's gaze for a moment, then nodded.

"I'm not a gossip, so I'm not about to rush off and tell the school. Don't worry, whatever you say is between you and me," she reassured him.

"Alright, so you want to know why I'm asking all of these questions. Why I'm doubting everything I've been taught to believe. It's because I saw something that made me question everything I've ever known, everyone I ever trusted...

"It happened last summer. I was out wandering the grounds around our house one evening in August, just walking and thinking. Mother was off at some party, and Father was supposed to be out as well. Anyway, I wasn't really expecting to run into anyone, because our property is heavily fenced and warded, so when I heard voices I decided to hide. I was at the edge of a clearing, so I headed back into the woods to stay behind a tree until the people left. Instead, the voices got louder, like they were headed right for me. I had no idea who it could be, so I climbed up the tree and tried to be as quiet as possible.

"Anyway, it worked, so the people who came never even noticed I was there. There were a couple of people I'd never seen before, and then came some of Father's friends: Mr. Macnair, Goyle and Crabbe's fathers. And finally came my father. I was about to climb down and pretend I'd been spying on them, following them or something. If my father knew I'd been hiding in a tree because I was afraid he'd never let me live it down. But when I saw that Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe were carrying something, I changed my mind. I didn't really know what was going on, but I knew that I shouldn't go down there."

Draco took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rolling his shoulders back, he crossed his arms on the table in front of him and looked up at the ceiling, as though searching for what to say next. After a few moments, he dropped his head back down to stare at his arms and continued quietly.

"Everyone gathered in the clearing. Mr. Crabbe dragged the bundle to the center of the clearing and pulled at the blanket it was wrapped in. I don't know what I was expecting, but I almost fell out of the tree when a man rolled out of the covering. He was covered in blood and rags, and he curled up in a ball when he hit the ground. Mr. Crabbe kicked the man in the back and said something I couldn't understand, but it made all the others laugh. One of the ones I didn't recognize pulled his wand out of his robes and turned to the others. 'I believe it was my turn' he said, not even pausing for an answer before cursing the man with the Imperius. Until the spell, he forced the man to uncurl and stand up. The guy could barely make it to his feet, so another person enchanted him so he was just hanging in mid air like a puppet on strings. But they left his head limp, as though that string had been cut. He looked half-dead. It was..."

Draco stopped abruptly. His fingers had curled into claws and were digging into his upper arms, Hermione noticed. After taking a few deep breaths, he loosened his grip and moved his hands to cover his face. Draco swallowed hard, then scrubbed his hands through his hair, pulling at it as though that would relieve his tension. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head and continued his tale.

"So they had this guy hanging there, and they took turns cursing him. They used curses I've never heard of. One of them was as if the man was being beaten with invisible clubs. Another made him scream and claw at his skin, believing there were bugs crawling in him. Every time it was my father's turn, he'd use the Crucio and let the man scream until he was choking for breath.

"It was the most sickening thing I'd ever seen," Draco spat out. "Grown men giggling and clapping like children over the pain of another person. I still couldn't figure out exactly what was going on, though, not until the very end...

Draco gripped his hands together on the table in front of him, knuckles whitening.

"I guess Father had become bored. He does get bored easily. So after they'd been torturing the man for what seemed like hours, Father's turn came up again, and he walked right up to the man. None of them had even touched the man before, but Father lifted the man's head by the hair and slapped him a few times until the man opened, or tried to open, his eyes. Once he knew he had the man's attention, Father asked 'Had enough, Muggle?' and the man moaned. Father stepped back, raised his wand, and..." Draco cleared his throat roughly. "And killed the man with the Unforgivable Curse."

Hermione gasped, she couldn't help herself. Draco's story had made her feel ill ever since she'd realized what might be happening, but hearing Draco describe the killing in that flat tone of voice was too much. She stared at the boy across the table from her, but his head was still bowed. He was examining the veins on the backs of his hands as though they held some great fascination, and he had not even reacted to the noise she made.

"I couldn't believe what I was seeing," Draco said after a while. "After Father killed the man, they let the body drop to the ground. One of them conjured some goblets and a flask, and they drank a toast to, uh, the 'death of all Muggles and Mudbloods' over the dead man. And then Mr. Macnair cast some spell to make the body disappear, Mr. Crabbe picked up the blanket and they all went back the way they'd come from, talking and laughing."

Draco trailed off into silence again. Hermione reached a hand across the table but pulled it back when the boy seemed to shrink away from contact. He held himself rigid, barely breathing. After another short pause he shook himself and carefully pulled his hands apart and crossed his arms again.

"I stayed up the tree for hours afterwards," he said in a voice so quiet Hermione could barely hear it. "I wasn't sure I could move, or if, when I tried, I might fall out of the tree. I was sick to my stomach, but I knew I couldn't vomit in case they came back and found out someone had been there. I didn't know what to do, but finally it started to get dark and I knew that I had to go home and pretend that nothing had happened. So I did. But sometimes when I close my eyes I can see that lump of mutilated bone and flesh, what was once clothing now rags, what was once a person now just a... dead... thing.

"I don't ever want to see that again. I can't look at Crabbe and Goyle when they talk about their fathers. I can't even look my father in the eye. I never knew that it could be so horrible. So absolutely horrific. And that those men could get pleasure from it. That my father could enjoy it...

"Now I know you hate my father," Draco said, lifting his head to look at Hermione. "But he's never been a bad father to me. Strict and demanding, yes, but never cruel. He never forced me to believe what I did. I just thought that he was right. But now I doubt him, his motives and what he taught me. I can't believe that the person I saw torturing that man was the same Father I always respected.

"I can't believe that they do that for Voldemort. Actually, I know they don't. They didn't mention him once the entire time. They did that for fun. And it's wrong. I don't care if that man were a wizard or a Muggle. And I don't think that it really mattered to them either. Him being Muggle was just their excuse. What they did was sick..."

Draco sighed deeply and shook his head as though to clear the images within.

"And that's why I've been having doubts, why I've wanted to have these talks," he said, spreading his hands. "Don't you see, everything I've ever thought was right and wrong is all confused now. And I can't follow blindly with a sick group like that. I just can't. I just can't.

"But I'm also afraid now. I don't want anyone to find out about this, because if it gets back to my father, I don't know what he's going to do. I know that Crabbe and Goyle would tell their fathers if I started acting really strange, if they noticed. And I know that there are others who would get the news back to him somehow."

Hermione nodded, thinking of Collier, wondering what doubts the younger boy might already have, since he was excluding Draco from the nightly meetings.

"At the beginning of the year, I thought that I would just get over it," Draco said in a stronger voice. "I did everything like I normally would and just hoped that all this confusion would go away. I told myself that I needed to think about the important things that would come from following in my father's footsteps, the power, the prestige. And I told myself I shouldn't be such a baby and get upset over a little thing like that. So some of the Death Eaters do that. That doesn't mean that I have to..."

Draco trailed off and looked up at Hermione, whose eyebrows were raised in skepticism. He smiled weakly at her look and nodded slightly as if he knew what she was thinking.

"Yeah, well I wasn't very successful at convincing myself. I've become more and more distanced from the people I used to spend time with, because I just can't listen to their conversations about cleansing the world of Muggles without seeing that dead man in my head.

"I started to doubt myself, and when you and I fought about my father, I realized that I had started to doubt my father. And now I have no idea what's going on in my head. I just know that I hate it and I want things to be clear again."

"And so you've been asking me all these questions to help clear your head?" Hermione asked.

"Something like that," Draco agreed. "I just wanted more information."

"So why not ask your father? He could explain everything, I'm sure," Hermione pointed out. "And he's always been the person you turned to before, right?"

"Well, yeah," Draco admitted. "But I'm not sure I want to talk to my father. I couldn't look him in the eyes for days after the... incident."

"So you came to someone on the complete opposite side of the debate," Hermione said. "I see."

"You still don't believe me, do you?" Draco asked angrily. He glared at her across the table, his cheeks flushing.

"I do believe you," Hermione said, finally. "I don't think you would have been that upset if you hadn't actually seen what you were telling me about. And I do believe that you are having doubts. I just want you to explain why you came to me with all your questions."

"I don't really know, okay? I just know that after those first couple of arguments, I knew that I had to know more about what you were saying. And I know that I trust you."

Draco stopped suddenly, his face reflecting the shock she was feeling.

"You trust me?" she asked in a quiet voice. "Really?"

"Um... yes. Really," Draco said, equally quietly. "I don't know where that came from, but I do trust you. I don't know why, but it's true."

"Oh. Okay. Sure," Hermione said, flustered.

This was nothing she had expected. The story about his father had surprised her, but Draco's latest revelation convinced her that whatever changes he was going through were not an act. Hermione wasn't certain how to respond. Draco didn't look like he really knew what to do next either. Hermione smiled slightly at that thought.

"So," she said, "you're very confused right now, because of all this?"

Draco nodded.

"Well," Hermione continued, "so am I. Very. I don't really know what I was expecting you to tell me, but it wasn't this. I guess it sets my mind at ease. I'm sorry that I didn't trust you, but I'm sure that you can understand why."

"I guess so," Draco admitted. "I haven't exactly been Mr. Congeniality around you. But I honestly do want to talk with you about these things. I want to know what other people think."

"I'm not just other people, Draco, you realize that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I'm not stupid, alright? And believe me when I say that this is probably at least as weird for me as it is for you. You're about the last person I would have talked to before this year."

"Well, me and Harry," Hermione pointed out.

"I'm still not talking to Potter," Draco said. "I'm confused, not brainwashed."

"Oh great," Hermione said. "There's still some of the old Draco left."

"Why? You like to see the old Draco?" he asked with a faint leer.

"Hmmm... Yeah, I suppose so," Hermione said, suppressing a grin. "Bound and gagged, preferably. Or unconscious covered in feathers and slugs like on the train last year."

"Hey!" Draco protested.

"What?" Hermione asked. "You completely deserved that. Remember what you said that day?"

Draco began to shake his head, but stopped and flushed slightly.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I remember. No wonder you don't trust me."

"I do trust you, a little," Hermione admitted. "Not completely, not by a long shot, but there's four years of nastiness to deal with. You weren't on the receiving end, so it's probably easier for you to forget it happened."

"And you're going to keep throwing it up in my face, are you?"

"No, of course not. Well, I'll try not to, as long as you don't do anything to remind me of it. Besides, you need to be knocked down a few pegs sometimes. Keep that ego in check."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were teasing me, Granger."

"What, tease the Mighty Draco Malfoy? The cheek!" Hermione grinned. "At least it got you out of your mood."

"Mood?"

"Cheered you up, distracted you."

"And you're concerned about cheering me up?" he asked.

"Well, not exactly," Hermione said. "Just don't think you should dwell on the bad things of the past too much. I saw how much it upset you and I think it's better not to focus on that whole incident."

"I'd rather not focus on it myself," Draco said. "But it keeps coming back. It's hard not to think about it sometimes, like it's always in the back of my mind, no matter what I'm doing."

"Maybe it'll will be better now that you've told someone. I know it sounds dumb, but once you talk about it, figure out what's so upsetting, you'll be able to deal with it. And then it will bother you less. It won't go away, but it'll be less constant."

"And you know this how?" Draco asked.

"Not from personal experience. But I read a lot of stuff about psychology, the study of people's minds and emotions. Because of what happened with Harry at the end of last year," she explained. "I wanted to know how to help him deal with all of that, all the bad things, the death. And so I read about it. And he and I talked some over the summer. And talking through everything and how he felt really helped him, I think."

"I don't like talking about how I feel."

"Too manly to get in touch with your emotions, huh?"

"What?" Draco asked, perplexed.

"Muggle nonsense," Hermione explained. "Why don't you talk about how you feel?"

"Because emotions make you weak."

"And so you don't admit you have them," Hermione finished, nodding. "Well, that's pretty much the Muggle nonsense I was talking about. But I'll be ready with an 'I told you so' when you tell me you're less upset after telling me about everything. But we should go. We've been here for ages, we're lucky Filch hasn't caught us yet."

Draco began to pack his books away, smiling at Hermione's jokes and teasing tone. He wasn't going to admit it now, but he did feel a little bit better having finally told someone. Having told Hermione, he realized with a small jolt.

They pair made their way out of the classroom in silence, glancing around the hallway for any sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris. The corridor was empty, so they made their way back towards the library, to be met by the sight of Madame Pince pushing the doors closed followed by the sounds of several locks being set from the inside.

"She doesn't live in there, does she?" Draco asked Hermione, perplexed.

"I hope not," Hermione responded, although she looked uncertain. "That would require being a bit too devoted to your job, wouldn't it?"

"Just a little," Draco said, smiling. "Scary concept." He paused, feeling awkward. "Can I walk you back to your tower?"

"No, thanks," Hermione said, turning to go. "I think I can find my way."

"Don't want to be seen with me in public..." Draco wasn't sure why he was pushing the issue.

"Don't be silly," Hermione said, but her cheeks colored slightly.

"I'm not. Just let me walk you back, okay. That way I'll know you made it safely."

"Yeah, cuz it's so dangerous to walk the halls of Hogwarts," Hermione said sarcastically, but she didn't rebuff him when he fell in step beside her.

"It has been," Draco pointed out. "It's not like the school's been very peaceful since your friend Potter got here."

"It's not Harry's fault that people are trying to kill him," Hermione snapped. "It's..."

"People like my father," Draco finished for her in a flat voice. "I know. Don't think I don't realize that. At least it's been safe this year."

Hermione made a strange noise, but when Draco looked over at her, she was nodding in agreement.

"I want you to know that I don't think it's right that they put so many innocent students in danger. If they're after Potter, they should just go for him."

"Oh, that's nice to know. It's a bad thing that they made our lives dangerous and terrifying, but it's okay to try to kill my best friend. Great."

"That's not what I meant, Hermione," Draco said shortly. He stopped walking and grabbed her elbow, turning her to face him. "You know that. What I was trying to say is that they have a specific target. Harming the whole school is an ineffective way of reaching their goal."

"So this is all some kind of textbook exercise to you?" Hermione pulled her arm free from Draco and started to walk again.

"No it's not, and that's what I realized this summer. Please, Hermione, listen."

Draco put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her to a stop. When he turned her to face him, she wouldn't meet his eyes, so he reached out a hand and tilted her chin up until she met his gaze. He dropped his hand at the sight of her glare, but he spoke earnestly.

"What I'm trying to say is that I realize that all of the death and destruction, all the injuries and torturing that the Death Eaters do - it isn't all necessary. Some of them even do it for fun, for the joy of causing chaos or pain. And that's completely wrong. I plan on being a powerful and important man when I grow up, but I'm starting to realize that there are some places where I draw the line."

Hermione was looking skeptical, and Draco reached out and grabbed her free hand. Her expression changed to surprise, but Draco refused to let go as he tried to press his point.

"I know that in past I was just like those people. Or I thought I was. I would say, I would believe, everything that they said about killing and getting rid of all the Muggles. I even thought that what they did was cool in some way. That it was part of being a powerful and ruthless person. Part of being a Malfoy. But it was never real to me. It was all a game. Now that I've actually seen a person being tortured and killed...

"I could never do what I saw my father and his friends doing. I know this now, and that has made me realize that there a lot of other things that they do and believe I don't agree with. I don't agree that we should get rid of Muggles, or kill them. You've made your points there well. I don't see why we can't just avoid them and let be. As for people like you, who come from Muggle families, well, it's the same thing."

"You're going to avoid me?" Hermione asked, sarcasm heavy in her voice. "And this is a change of attitude how?"

"No! Aren't you listening to me?" Draco asked, frustrated. "I'm saying that I don't think that people from Muggle families should be killed. It's not right. It makes even less sense than hating Muggles. You're a witch, same as the rest of us."

"Thanks for noticing," Hermione's voice was no less cold, but she had stopped trying to pull her hand from Draco's.

"So why not just keep the Muggle world separate from the wizarding world, and ignore it. As long as the Muggles and Muggle-borns aren't a danger to us, I don't see why we have to harm them. Which isn't what my father thinks, let me tell you."

"Well, your father seems to think we're dangerous for no reason at all."

"I'm not here to argue about what my father believes, Hermione," Draco said impatiently. "Aren't you happy that I've had a change of heart? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I don't think you could ever grasp what I want, Draco," Hermione said dryly. "Maybe once you've spent several years living in a society where sizeable portions of it hate you or look down on you for something you have no control over. Then you might be able to understand some small amount of it."

"Okay, then at least let me say that I don't think any less of you for having Muggle parents, not anymore."

"Well, thank you Draco. I'm glad that you've realized it's a stupid prejudice, but you're only one person."

"I can't do anything about that," he pointed out angrily.

"I know you can't," Hermione said with a sigh. "And I don't expect the prejudices to ever go away completely. But it's not exactly fun to live with, always being judged."

"You think I don't understand that?" Draco asked. "Look, I've lived all my life as Lucius Malfoy's son. And when I wasn't that, I was a Slytherin. I'd always taken pride in these things, but sometimes people hate you for them."

Draco pulled Hermione to the side of the corridor and dropped his book bag. He let go of her hand and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. After a moment, she put her books down as well and sat down beside him.

"Okay, Draco, why don't you tell me about being a poor misunderstood rich boy."

"I'm not about to tell you if you start off like that," he said sharply and Hermione grimaced.

"Fine. So you've lived with prejudice as well. I'll buy that," she said. "But I don't see how it could compare with what I've had to deal with. At least the things that people hated you for are, like you said, things you take pride in. Took pride in."

"Yeah, they are. Were. I'm still proud of being a Slytherin. We're a great house, a strong house, and all of our members have gone on to power."

"If you call being hated and feared power," Hermione said waspishly.

"Well, you've got to admit that even the ones you hate, my father and his friends, they've got power and influence. Doesn't matter if you like how they use it."

"I guess I can't really argue with that. But I don't have much respect for it."

"That's why you're not in Slytherin."

"Well, that and the fact that on the train I was told that being Muggle-born and in Slytherin was as bad as it gets. I was terrified that I would answer the hat wrong and get stuck in Slytherin."

"Answer the hat?" Draco asked, confused.

"Look, I didn't know what the hat did; I thought it would be like a quiz, okay? Half the upper years spent the entire train trip making up stories about how the hat made its choice. I think someone even mentioned troll wrestling," Hermione made a face.

"Well, that's one you wouldn't have had a problem with, is it?" Draco grinned. Hermione reached out an arm and shoved him gently, but grinned back nonetheless.

"Anyway, we were talking about being judged," Hermione pointed out.

"Which is what the hat does, so we're right on topic," Draco replied.

"You know what I mean, Draco. So why don't you make your point?"

"Fine. You're no fun," Draco said as Hermione glared at him. "Okay, okay. Look, I've had expectations placed on me from the very beginning and they're hard to live up to. I'm always expected to be the best at everything because I'm a Malfoy. Some days I would wish that I was anything but a Malfoy. Especially when you got the highest grades, or Potter got all the attention for something or other. I was a failure then, a disappointment. I've spent so many years trying to please my father and live up to what he wants me to be. I don't know if I'll ever be good enough for him. Sometimes I think that I'll never live up to all that he expects me to be. But I try. I put on the right face and do everything I can."

"And so you've done everything he wanted you to, you've followed him blindly and tried to become him? Even if it's not really you? I got it. But I think that's a different situation from what I have to live with," Hermione said heatedly.

"I'm not saying it's the same. I'm just saying that I've lived with some pretty unreasonable expectations just because of who my father is."

"Expectations from your father," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, him and everyone else. I've heard you and your friends talking. You all expected me to be just like him. Don't tell me that you didn't figure I was your enemy just because of my name and my house."

"Well, that and the fact that you threatened me," Hermione responded.

"Fine. Yeah. But you guys thought that all the other Slytherins were like my father, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess we did," Hermione admitted.

"I know for a fact that that's not true. There's actually not that many people in my house that are from families like mine. Yeah we might think we're superior, but that's cuz Slytherins are generally powerful people."

"We've covered this," Hermione said.

"What I'm trying to point out is that there's a prejudice there. I'm proud of my house, but lots of the school hates us. So I do have some understanding of what you've dealt with, what it's like to have people hate you for no real reason."

"Alright, I'll grant you that. I still don't think that you could ever understand what it's like to be from a Muggle family in the wizarding world," Hermione said.

"Well, maybe you could explain it to me someday? I'd like to know, if that's okay with you."

"I guess. This is still so strange to me," Hermione admitted with small chuckle. "You wanting to understand how anti-Muggle prejudice affects people. I keep expecting to have someone pop out from around the corner and tell me I'm on Candid Camera."

Draco looked at her, puzzled.

"Sorry, Muggle reference. I'll explain that one too, next time we meet. As for now, I really do have to get back to my tower. The fun never ends."

To illustrate her remark, she pushed off from the floor and picked up her book bag. Draco sighed, having hoped for more discussion. He stood and rubbed his eyes, which were feeling strangely gritty. He leaned down to pick up his book bag and turned to continue walking to the Gryffindor part of the castle. Hermione joined him, then took a step and turned to face him

"You don't have to walk me the rest of the way. I'll be fine. Look, you go find some hot chocolate and get some sleep. You like you might need it."

"Yes mother," Draco mocked.

"Sod off! You just look like death warmed over right now. I suppose it's the result of being pale as a fish belly."

"Oh, hey! That's rich coming from a girl whose hair looks like she's been electrocuted!"

"Least I don't slick mine down with a gallon of gel every morning. Doubt your hair would move in a wind storm."

"Whereas yours always looks like you just got out of one."

"Points off for lack of originality. You already mocked the hair, try something else."

Draco stopped suddenly, his next insult lost as he registered what Hermione had said.

"There are points?" he asked, confused.

"Nah," Hermione said. "I just spent too much time with the Weasleys this summer. Fred and George can insult each other for hours. It's practically a sport for them. I guess I picked up more of it than I thought."

"Well, I never really expected Hermione Granger to lower herself to a slanging match, so yeah, I'd say they're a bad influence on you."

"Fine by me," Hermione replied with a grin. "But I should get going. It's late and I still have things to do. I'll see you in class."

"Okay," Draco replied as she turned and hurried away.

He watched her retreating back for a moment, then shook his head and started walking towards the stairs leading to the Slytherin common room.