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Linked by Philyra912
 Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Romance, Draco M., Hermione G., Words: 61k+, Favs: 4k+, Follows: 920, Published: Jun 18, 2005 Updated: Jan 5, 2006
 2,542 Chapter 18: Something Has Changed
A/N: Sorry it's been so long between updates, everyone! I had the WORST case of writer's block EVER! Finally got it finished though, but it wasn't easy, let me tell you! So you'd better appreciate it, damn it! (just kidding, my love)
Let us all give a big round of applause to Lorett, my new beta! She nursed me through my battle with the inspiration-stealing demons, and then kept me from posting a less-than-exemplary chapter in order to get it out sooner! You all owe her BIG TIME for that, because the chapter rather sucked before she helped me out.
Anyway, on to the chapter!
Chapter 17: Something Has Changed
Draco wanted to be reading the journal in which his salvation might be found, but two things were stopping him. The first was that Hermione refused to relinquish the slim, white, leather-bound volume. The second was that he could not stop staring at her.
He'd been trying for perhaps the last ten minutes to wrench his gaze away, and found the task utterly impossible. He suspected that his mind was searching desperately for any reason to doubt the sincerity of the kindness she had just shown him.
It shouldn't have been possible for someone to be so compassionate. Forced to relive a night that, according to the highly-accurate Hogwarts rumor mill, had caused her grievous injury and had nearly cost her the loss of her friends and her life, she'd responded by . . . worrying about his mother. His mother! A woman she'd never met, and who, though she might not know it, considered people like Hermione of no more importance or worth than the dirt beneath her Louis Vuitton-clad feet (the women of the wizarding rich did not allow their prejudice to get in the way of high fashion).
Of all the things she could have said, Draco could not think of a single one that would have been more troublesome or upsetting to him. It was not that he didn't appreciate that she cared; that, in fact, was the problem. He did appreciate it. He soaked up her quiet kindness like a man dying of thirst, hungered after it like he was on the brink of starvation, craved more of it already though it had only been minutes since he'd last been blessed with it. How pathetic he was, he sneered at himself, and Malfoys were not pathetic, with the possible and glaring exception of his father.
He had not given the matter more than thirty seconds of thought before he'd realized exactly why her compassion had moved him so: no one had ever really cared about him before. His mother - his poor, lovely, oh-so-fragile mother - had only so much love to give, and what love she did not reserve for herself belonged solely to Lucius. As for his father . . . Well, Draco doubted that his father had ever had the capacity to love, but if he had, it had been eradicated by the Dark Lord long before Draco could remember.
This lack of caring from the two people who should have loved him above all else in the world made it even harder for Draco to accept that Hermione, who had every reason to loathe him, could give a damn whether he lived or lay dying in a thousand pieces. It was most perplexing for him, and Draco was unused to being perplexed by anything.
He didn't know what to make of kindness that was offered simply for its own sake, and not with cunning, manipulation, or ulterior motives behind it. It was confusing and foreign and it meant too much to him. He didn't want this, didn't want her kindness or her compassion, didn't want to feel anything other than disgust when he looked at her . . . Now, damn it, if he could only look away from her, he might be able to convince himself of those things.
A slight intensifying of her level of excitement caused Draco to raise an eyebrow at her. Apparently sensing his curiosity, Hermione looked up at him, the smile that had so recently been on her lips still shining in her eyes.
