Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Ships:
Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger
Characters:
Hermione Granger
Genres:
Angst Songfic
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 07/06/2006
Updated: 07/06/2006
Words: 1,841
Chapters: 1
Hits: 457

Colours of the Wind

randygrapes

Story Summary:
Hermione Granger's POV on the mess that has become her life. Songfic to 'Colours of the Wind' from Pochahontas, ties in with 'Family Portrait', 'Weird', and 'Blame it on the Weatherman'.

Chapter 01

Posted:
07/06/2006
Hits:
326


Colours Of The Wind

It had been a really bad day, so I closed my eyes and let myself sink onto my bed in the room I shared with the other sixth-year Gryffindor girls, including Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Still with my eyes closed, I muttered the spell that would close the curtains around the four-poster bed, and lay my head back against the red-and-gold pillows, ignoring the tears that trailed slowly down my cheeks.

I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and I remember exactly what started it all. Draco Malfoy's words were still reverberating around my head; how could I forget? It wasn't as though it was the first time he had insulted me, although he usually reserved his comments for my best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, and saved his scathing glances for me. The thing was, I had to admit to myself, was that it had been getting better. I had found myself falling for him a few months ago, and he had actually started saying 'hi' to me in the corridors, which I had taken as a good sign. And then today had happened.

You think I'm an ignorant savage,

And you've been so many places...

I guess it must be so.

But still I cannot see

If the savage one is me.

How can there be so much that you don't know?

You don't know...

I opened my eyes and glared at the ceiling. Draco bloody Malfoy. That's what it all came down to, of course. I knew that. But he had had no right to call me a savage. I could handle being called a Mudblood, even if it was in front of everyone, but I was not a savage. His father was a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's greatest supporters... and, besides, I had been the one to create the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare. Gods, I was anything but an ignorant savage. Anyone could see that; everyone knew that. Everyone but Draco Malfoy.

It didn't help, of course, that every time I closed her eyes I saw him. It also didn't help that I knew perfectly well that Harry fancied the really expensive leather trousers off of Draco, and that he hadn't meant a word he had said earlier when he and Ron had been trying to make me feel better. That didn't mean Harry and Ron hadn't been right. Draco was an arrogant bastard that never thought of anyone but himself and only had his friends because of his parents and the family name. I wasn't like that at all. I always thought about others; I cared about the environment; and I had real friends. Draco was the one with the problem.

You think you own whatever land you land on,

The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim.

But I know every rock and tree and creature

Has a life, has a spirit, has a name.

It wasn't as though he even had a soul, or a heart, or anything even remotely resembling humanity or any emotion that was ever created. He didn't care about anyone, and it wasn't as though I even care because I don't like him anyway and even if I did it isn't like he would ever like me anyway. Draco Malfoy could keep his leather trousers and his incredibly blond hair and everything he has ever made me feel and he can get out of my mind and out of my life.

Taking a deep breath, I swung my legs back over the side of the bed and headed for the door. I hesitated for a moment, but soon decided that I would go back downstairs; I would help celebrate the Gryffindor Quidditch victory over Slytherin; and I would forget about Draco Malfoy. Stifling a sudden giggle that inexplicably bubbled up into my throat, I pushed open the door and sauntered down the stairs, meeting the expectant grins of both Harry and Ron. Draco would never know what he was missing if he never got to know anyone but what he termed 'his own kind'.

You think the only people who are people

Are the people who look and think like you.

But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger,

You'll learn things you never knew you never knew.

Life, I had decided about three hours and sixteen White Lady cocktails - at approximately a grand total of 48 alcohol units - later, was a bitch. I vaguely remembered snogging an equally drunk Seamus Finnegan, and informing an extremely unequally sober Colin Creevey - who, naturally, didn't need alcohol to liven him up - something about how pink mushrooms often ate scrawny frogs with dotted bananas, before I passed out. At least, I think I passed out because I woke up draped over my bed and with a large blank space following the Seamus-snogging.

There was also the fact that both Harry and Ron told me several times how completely plastered I had been and that I had, in fact, collapsed in the early hours of the morning. Ron, in particular, was very proud of me for holding my drink, mainly due to the fact that I, unlike Ron, had not thrown up twice in close succession over Parvati Patil. I'd be willing to bet anything that Draco had never had so much fun. I bet he has never even wondered about life, why things are the way they are, or anything of that sort. But thinking about it made my head hurt more, so I gave up hating Draco Malfoy, just for a while.

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?

Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?

Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?

Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?

Can you paint with all the colours of the wind?

Class was hell that day, not least because none of the potions I had tried had helped my throbbing head in the slightest. There was also the added problem of Draco Malfoy shooting glances at me across the room. I caught his eye twice, but he looked away quickly, so I didn't actually get any explanation out of him. I even sent him a note asking what was up, but he didn't reply. As a result, I unsubtly sent him another note about how I was not an ignorant savage and that he was an arrogant git with his head so far up his arse that he was practically a walking pair of legs. Needless to say, he didn't reply to that one either.

There was, obviously, still the matter of the fact that I didn't care. I wanted to help him; that was all. He had successfully embedded himself so firmly into his life as the new Mr. Slytherin, the most common star of every student's fantasies, that he couldn't see that there was a way out. I just wanted to give him that way out. I wanted to show him where he'd gone wrong in life, and why things had gone wrong, and how he could fix it.

Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest.

Come taste the sun-sweet berries of the Earth.

Come roll in all the riches all around you.

And for once, never wonder what they're worth.

After lessons, I went to the library, knowing that Harry and Ron wouldn't follow me. The library has always been my favourite place, because it usually offers me security and guidance through its books, but today there was such a complete sense of disarray in my heart that I couldn't find that sanctuary I craved. For the first time in my life, I had found something that I didn't understand. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't fathom any reasoning behind Draco Malfoy. He didn't seem to realize how much he hurt people, and I couldn't help someone who didn't want my help.

He was just insecure, I finally determined. He had his own problems to deal with and he took them out on the people around him. It had nothing whatsoever to do with me. As I thought this, a light shadow fell over me and I became aware that someone had taken the seat beside me. Looking up, I saw Draco Malfoy looking at me with an expression that was kind of a combination of anguish and apology. I smiled at him and he nodded.

The rainstorm and the river are my brothers,

The heron and the otter are my friends.

And we are all connected to each other

In a circle, in a hoop that never ends.

An hour later, I was sat on the floor, leaning against my bed. My arms were wrapped around my knees, which were drawn up to my chest, and I couldn't stop thinking about what Draco had just told me. In the library he had actually apologized to me for all the mean things he'd ever said to Ron or Harry or me, and had explained why he acted the way he did. He said he had seen me watching him and that something in my eyes had told him that I'd understand. Then he had spoken of his brother, Eric, and the issues his parents were having. I shivered involuntarily. The story of Draco Malfoy's dead brother had been more than just a little upsetting, and it turned out that I had had him all wrong; it wasn't that he didn't care about anyone else, only that his problems had overwhelmed him to such an extent that he found his only outlet was to mock and scorn others.

Suddenly, an eagle flew into the room through the open window, dropped a letter on my lap, and flew away. I read it quickly; it was from Draco, of course. The letter wasn't a friendly letter - it ridiculed me and repeated the insults of 'Mudblood', 'Ignorant Savage', and 'Bucktoothed Beaver', among others. Then I noticed a small smudge of wax near the bottom of the page, and everything seemed to suddenly click into place. I whispered the spell to reappear invisible ink and read a hurried scrawl of 'I'm so sorry' in Draco's familiar hand. Then I smiled. He was human after all, and I wasn't an ignorant savage. It turned out that everyone had his or her own problems in life; and while it sometimes helped to share it, sometimes it also helped to keep that fact a secret.

How high will the sycamore grow?

If you cut it down, then you'll never know.

And you'll never hear the wolf cry to blue corn moon,

For whether we are white or copper skinned,

We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains,

We need to paint with all the colours of the wind.

You can own the Earth and still

All you'll own is Earth until

You can paint with all the colours of the wind.