Her lip twitched. "Something like that."
"Anyone I know?"
Your cousin.
"No," she shook her head. "He's…just one of the boys in my year, but Harry and Ron aren't very fond of him." Not a lie.
"They'll get over it," Tonks assured her with a dismissive wave of her hand. "So, what's he like?"
Hermione paused to gather her wits and words. Tonks had that trustworthy manner about her that often coaxed secrets to tumble out of her mouth, and she needed to be careful with how much she divulged.
"He's an arsehole," she started bluntly, noting the amused flash in Tonks' eyes. "He's incorrigible, he's complicated, and he doesn't listen to a word I say-
"That's typical of most men-
"He's rude," Hermione continued with her rant. "He's arrogant, he's cruel and very cold-
"Also quite common-
"And sometimes he makes me so angry I could just throttle him or hex him into the next bloody continent!"
Tonks cleared her breath to smother a laugh, and studied her young companion with a wise smirk. "But?"
Hermione swallowed and felt tears scratch the backs of her eyes. "But he's beautiful," she whispered sadly. "Completely messed up and utterly awful, but there's something there which is just beautiful to me. I can't really explain it."
It felt so weird and wonderful to say it aloud to another person, but of course she was censoring all the darker details that came with her Slytherin housemate. Her pseudo-big sister was eyeing her sympathetically, tucking some strands of violet hair behind her ear and looking very much pleased with Hermione's confession.
If only you knew…
"Do you know how he feels about you?"
Hermione frowned and bowed her head. "He tells me he hates me-
"Have you two ever kissed?" Tonks pushed boldly.
She felt a hot blush stain her cheeks. "A few times," she murmured quietly. "But they were…impulsive and they didn't last long-
"Who kissed who?"
"Well," Hermione hesitated. "I…initiated the first one, but he's kissed me twice since."
Tonks' playful smile stretched up her face. "Sounds promising to me."
"No," she said, wrinkling her nose with disappointment. "It's more complicated than that. He shoved me away the last time I tried, and I don't even know if I like him really. There's just…something there that…
She trailed off, and Tonks gave her a reassuring nod. "Go on," she urged. "You know you can tell me anything."
"Something…that hurts," she finished, her voice hitching. "He has this…this shield up, and I don't think I can get through to him. I'm trying, but every time I think I'm getting somewhere he just ruins it, and I don't know if I have the energy to do it anymore-
"Hermione-
"I keep seeing these glimpses of a decent person," she carried on, a tear skimming down her cheek. "And I think that's what I'm…attracted to, but I-
"Hermione," Tonks interrupted again. "It's okay. He just sounds a little confused. He'll come round."
"But what if-
"Just do what feels right, sweetheart," she advised slowly, and Hermione recalled saying some very similar words to Draco. "Would you like some tea before bed?"
"Could I have a hot chocolate instead, please?"
.
.
Draco was sat in a crumpled heap on the cold floorboards, absently fiddling with the remains of Granger's snow-globe. He caught a shard awkwardly, and he hissed the air through his teeth as his finger wept a ruby teardrop. He eyed his blood critically, and a cold shiver ran up his spine as he recalled the day in the bathroom when there had been so much more blood, and not just his.
Granger's was exactly the same.
That had been a damning realisation, and he blamed that for every predicament that had followed, and the epiphanies that had struck him in her absence. The crippling fact of the matter was, Granger had every trait that he admired; intelligence, wit, strength, and then something that he couldn't put his finger on. She was simply…good.
If I was a Pureblood with exactly the same personality, would you be so quick to discard what happened this morning?
His brain had been flooded with her words since she'd left; every sentence that had ever made him doubt his prejudices had reverberated in his skull, but he was holding firmly onto the flimsy whispers of his family's ways. What had once felt so obvious and right now felt fickle and faint. He'd like to blame it all on her, but he had come to acknowledge there must have been cracks in his beliefs, but it didn't make it any easier.
You're human, Draco, and you've made mistakes, but I can't hate you for that.
He clenched his eyes shut. Mistakes…Astronomy Tower. Surely, if he'd been so certain that Voldemort and his principles were correct, that task would have been an easy thing to do. Maybe he'd started to doubt it all then…
They're just labels, you know. Slytherin, Gryffindor. Pureblood and Mudblood. They don't dictate how we should live our lives.
It was easy for her to say that. There were expectations that came with his infamous surname, and she couldn't begin to imagine the pressure he'd been under. He was certain that Potter had told her all about his breakdown in the toilets last term, but that had been a sliver of his turmoil. There had been times when he'd cast every silencing charm he knew and just screamed until his lungs had torn. Blaise and Pansy had seen some of his weaker moments, but nobody had been there to witness his real outbursts of chaos. Even before he'd been given his task, Draco had sometimes found himself staring at his reflection and wondering if a lifestyle full of hatred was all too much for him.
.
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