Slow Grenade

Chapter Five

Hermione was eating her evening meal at the Gryffindor table and feeling progressively more nervous as her meeting with Draco crept closer. Harry and Ron were sat away from her, further up the table, however their presence only served to increase the anxiety.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," Ron muttered as her fingers tapped repetitively on the table.

Shocked at this admission, Hermione's eyes widened and she felt the familiar burn of hot tears begin to form. Harry watched as she stood quickly, shoving her belongings into a satchel, and strode from the Great Hall. "I think she heard you," he mumbled.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've realised she's got no friends."

Hermione had, of course, realised this. It was just that she wished it weren't true.

Reaching the library, she slumped into one of the comfy library chairs and recalled finally feeling at home on the Hogwarts Express, talking about books with Draco. This new sensation had been quickly extinguished as she came to realise he didn't particularly care for her either.

She sighed in defeat and pulled 'Hogwarts: A History' closer towards her, trying to get lost in its words rather than ruminating on her own thoughts.

After a time, the world began to fade around her.

"Hermione?" a voice eventually questioned, breaking into her silence.

She blinked a few times and, as her eyes adjusted, murmured, "Yes..."

"Sorry, I didn't realise you were asleep."

"It's fine, have you been here long?"

Draco paused. "No, only a few minutes."

"Oh, okay," her consciousness was beginning to reform. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, I guess... I missed you."

Hermione almost laughed. "You, the great Draco Malfoy, miss a mere Muggle-born like me? What has the world come to?"

Draco's eyes darkened and Hermione wondered whether she had gone too far. "Sorry," she muttered.

"No, you're right. I was wrong to judge you but, well, it's all I've known."

Hermione frowned in confusion, so Draco said, "I was taught that Muggle-borns are inferior, scum, less than those who are pure-blood." He paused so as to evaluate her reaction. She appeared neutral and he continued, "The stories I was told... well, I guess I was a bit scared too. Some books say you steal our magic."

Hermione did laugh this time. "Sorry, what?"

"I know, it's hard to believe but... people like you, hate is all I've known." Draco took a breath, "I really enjoyed talking to you on the train and it felt like I was finally able to be me..."

She didn't interrupt but simply gazed at him through her deep, brown eyes.

"That made me angry. How could I enjoy spending time with someone inferior to me? It made me start questioning everything. I'm still questioning, I'm confused. You're intelligent, you make me laugh, you..." he cut off.

"I'm what?"

"Nothing," he said, blushing. "Nothing. I just, didn't expect this to happen."

Hermione shrugged. "Right, well, what do you want from me?"

"I want to be friends," Draco said. "At least, I'd like the chance to be your friend."

"Even though I'm inferior?"

He shook his head. "You could never be inferior."

She considered him, this strange pale faced boy, asking her to be his friend despite admitting he was brought up to hate her. Hermione wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Draco now but, as she had already been reminded once that evening, she supposed she could do with a friend.

"How about we walk to Potions together tomorrow, then?" Hermione asked.

Draco at least had the sense to look somewhat embarrassed as he said, "Um, why don't we meet in the evenings, so no one else is around."

That made sense. He didn't want to be seen around her. "Right."

The tears were falling again before she could control them. Hermione grabbed her books and walked quickly from the library, heading to the first place she could find to be alone.