This Is War

Things that Begin and Things that End

Hermione didn't know what it was, what made things this way.

She assumed it had to do with Fate, with how it was a downright bitch and it did whatever it pleased. Personally, she disliked Fate very much. She couldn't understand how it had all the answers; how it knew everything simply because that's the way things were destined to be. It was unfair, to be perfectly honest. One should gain such knowledge through experience, through lessons learned and much understanding, not just because. Of course, Fate's a force of the Universe and it does whatever it bloody wants to do.

Leaving aside the feeling of not being in control she very much hated, Hermione assumed Fate had its uses once in a while. It sometimes had the decency, the brilliance to put people together that would've never have sat next to one another given the chance. It weaves people in and out of each others' lives, placing them next to you when all you want to do is sit on your own and forces a conversation out of you.

She never liked anyone telling her what to do or who to befriend, but she allowed Fate to slide away with this one because it brought to her some insight on someone she would've never approached by her own accord.

"I never did ask you, how was your holiday?" Looking up from her stack of books and open notes, a witch blinked her dark eyes at the person sitting across from her.

"Uneventful, actually," clearing the throat of the boy she was supposed to be, Hermione smiled dimly at the girl before her. "And yours, Greengrass?"

Daphne puffed out a bit of air, leaning against the back of her chair lazily. "It's as good as a holiday can get stuck inside school," her tone was a bit bitter. "Astoria hated it. We couldn't see our father, not that he wanted us to leave the castle anyway. McGonagall took to following us around, actually."

Hermione raised a white brow that wasn't hers. "McGonagall, really?"

"She was in her Animagus form most of the time but I noticed her," Daphne said offhandedly, staring at the boy across from her intently. There was something in her dark orbs, something like suspicion and curiosity. As soon as she'd allowed it to flash and reveal itself, it was gone. "Other than that, I still suppose your holiday was more eventful than mine."

"Why's that?" Hermione countered, thinking to herself that she needed to owl Remus. She hadn't received any written response that he was going to be protecting Blaise Zabini, let alone Daphne and her family. That could only be the reason why the Headmistress was watching the Greengrass sisters, and if Remus had obliged, Hermione wanted to know if she could be of some assistance in the process.

Once again, Daphne allowed a certain amount of curiosity to stretch across her expression. "I share a dormitory with Pansy," she said casually. "She's been having nightmares since she returned to Hogwarts. She speaks incoherently, none of the girls notice or care, but I do. She's begun her training to be one of you, hasn't she?"

Her natural instinct—well, Malfoy's natural instinct that still lingered in his skin and cells as she possessed it—was to snap back; attack her for her 'one of you' comment. But leaving aside what she's seen, what she knew from her stay at Malfoy Manor, Hermione couldn't deny the truth in the girl's comment. Malfoy was a Death Eater. Just because he was threatened into it, because his family had fallen from Voldemort's grace, didn't erase the Dark Mark on his arm.

"I don't see why you care about her," was Hermione's choice of response instead; still very Malfoy-ish. "She chose her path, Greengrass, and you chose yours."

Daphne erased all emotions from her face. "She did," and it was a harsh whisper, "but it still doesn't make it right, Draco. She's just a girl...She was my friend. She chose wrong. And I'm not afraid to say that all of you have chosen wrong. You're children and you're torturing and killing like vindictive old men."