Prompt 5 - Arcade - Never Friends - ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spikespetslayer - Harry Pot
Aug. 12th, 2006 03:01 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
dedra.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: Never Friends
Author:spikespetslayer
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Fandom: Harry Potter
A/N: HBP compatible--unseen meeting between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy
Never Friends
He stood leaning over the edge of the railing surrounding the arcade between the towers of the ancient castle. He stared longingly at the drop to the rocky trickle below him that led to the dark lake, wishing for the freedom to jump off now and end all the…. No, he couldn’t. There was no way out for him—he was committed to the cause. Committed by his own hand.
He was so intent on the view he forgot to be aware of his surroundings. He must have been leaning too far because he found himself overbalanced and nearly fell over the low railing before a hand reached out and grabbed the back of his robes and dragged his footing back to solid ground. He turned, intent on thanking the person that saved him and saw that it was one of the Golden Trio, the least likely of them to boot.
The word hovered on the edge of his lips but he bit it back. Years of verbal insults had already built a wall between them; he was tired of walls and insults and questions of blood and purity. Nobody was pure anymore. Instead of throwing the insult in her face, he simply nodded in acknowledgement. “Thanks, Granger.”
He could feel her surprise in the silence that descended. Wind whistled through the columns and around corners, whipping her thick hair into a tangle as she stood and stared at the hunched shoulders.
“Malfoy, what’s the matter?”
Tired, so tired…. “What’s it to you, Granger? I didn’t see you as the type to gloat.”
Hermione looked down one way, then the other. There was nobody around; the school seemed practically deserted. With a deep breath and expecting the usual rejection, she shouldered him over and leaned on the railing next to him, her hands folded in front of her as they looked out over the lake.
Draco never looked at her face, merely glanced down at her hands in front of them. “Do you ever feel—” he started, then stopped himself from finishing his sentence.
“Do I ever feel what, Malfoy?”
He chanced a look at her from the corner of his eye. “What do you want, Granger?”
Hermione hardened her heart and took a deep breath. “Moaning Myrtle.”
Startled gray eyes captured hers and held them fast. “Damn ghost. Never trust them.”
“She said that you were crying. She wouldn’t tell me anything else.”
His hands fisted in front of him, the knuckles turning white with the pressure. “Nothing else?”
“No.” She touched his arm. “Malfoy, I know that we aren’t friends or anything—”
“No, I could never be friends with a mudblood.” There it was, that hateful word escaping before he could bite it back.
“I know. You would never lower yourself. Still, if you need to talk to someone….” Her voice trailed off and was whipped away by the wind. “I’m a good listener.”
He looked away, refusing her offer before it was even fully voiced. “Like you said, Granger, we’ve never been friends. Why start now?”
Instead of answering, she grabbed his left arm and pulled up his sleeve. Alabaster skin glistened in the fading sunlight. Draco sneered down at her surprise. “What, thought you would see the Dark Mark there?”
Closing her gaping mouth, she straightened. “Actually, I did.” She watched him pull his sleeve back in place and softened her tone. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Dumbledore….”
“Dumbledore is a muggle-loving idiot just like Arthur Weasley. No, thanks, I’ll take my chances with…You-Know-Who.”
“Malfoy, you’re such a prat. Dumbledore could help you—protect you.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to protect your mother, aren’t you?”
Her insight shocked him. “How do you know that?”
She got that smug look, the one he despised every time he saw it in class when she answered a question correctly. “She’s the only person in the world that I’ve ever heard that you cared about, besides yourself.”
“What if I am?” He tried not to let her insight bother him, but if he was that transparent to her, then who else was he letting inside?
Her answer, when he chanced a look at her, was a soft smile. “I think that is maybe the only redeeming thing I’ve ever known you to do.”
Hermione straightened and started to walk away but turned back to put a hand on his back between his shoulder blades. Her touch burned through the heavy school robes and sent a shiver of awareness down his spine. “Just remember, if you need a friend you could do worse than Dumbledore. Or me, for that matter. Better a live person than a ghost that can’t do a thing to help you.”
Her footsteps echoed in the arcade as she walked away from him. He watched the gentle sway of her robes as she left, her words seeping beyond the bias and prejudice that he’d always been so sure of. He still needed to keep himself and his mother safe, Voldemort be damned—but while he still would work on the cabinet, there was a lot of food for thought that he needed to digest.
As he made his way back to the Room of Requirement, he pondered on the entire encounter. Had the shoe been on the other foot, he was certain he wouldn’t have saved her; more like he would have given her that extra shove to send her tumbling over the railing to her death. Now? Now he couldn’t be sure of what he would do, her simple statement rattling his foundations so surely that he wasn’t even sure about his next action.
He turned toward the Slytherin dungeons instead of going to the hated room where a vanishing cabinet stood. It would still be there tomorrow; unfortunately, so would his new questions about blood and trust.
Author:
spikespetslayerRating: PG
Warnings: None
Fandom: Harry Potter
A/N: HBP compatible--unseen meeting between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy
Never Friends
He stood leaning over the edge of the railing surrounding the arcade between the towers of the ancient castle. He stared longingly at the drop to the rocky trickle below him that led to the dark lake, wishing for the freedom to jump off now and end all the…. No, he couldn’t. There was no way out for him—he was committed to the cause. Committed by his own hand.
He was so intent on the view he forgot to be aware of his surroundings. He must have been leaning too far because he found himself overbalanced and nearly fell over the low railing before a hand reached out and grabbed the back of his robes and dragged his footing back to solid ground. He turned, intent on thanking the person that saved him and saw that it was one of the Golden Trio, the least likely of them to boot.
The word hovered on the edge of his lips but he bit it back. Years of verbal insults had already built a wall between them; he was tired of walls and insults and questions of blood and purity. Nobody was pure anymore. Instead of throwing the insult in her face, he simply nodded in acknowledgement. “Thanks, Granger.”
He could feel her surprise in the silence that descended. Wind whistled through the columns and around corners, whipping her thick hair into a tangle as she stood and stared at the hunched shoulders.
“Malfoy, what’s the matter?”
Tired, so tired…. “What’s it to you, Granger? I didn’t see you as the type to gloat.”
Hermione looked down one way, then the other. There was nobody around; the school seemed practically deserted. With a deep breath and expecting the usual rejection, she shouldered him over and leaned on the railing next to him, her hands folded in front of her as they looked out over the lake.
Draco never looked at her face, merely glanced down at her hands in front of them. “Do you ever feel—” he started, then stopped himself from finishing his sentence.
“Do I ever feel what, Malfoy?”
He chanced a look at her from the corner of his eye. “What do you want, Granger?”
Hermione hardened her heart and took a deep breath. “Moaning Myrtle.”
Startled gray eyes captured hers and held them fast. “Damn ghost. Never trust them.”
“She said that you were crying. She wouldn’t tell me anything else.”
His hands fisted in front of him, the knuckles turning white with the pressure. “Nothing else?”
“No.” She touched his arm. “Malfoy, I know that we aren’t friends or anything—”
“No, I could never be friends with a mudblood.” There it was, that hateful word escaping before he could bite it back.
“I know. You would never lower yourself. Still, if you need to talk to someone….” Her voice trailed off and was whipped away by the wind. “I’m a good listener.”
He looked away, refusing her offer before it was even fully voiced. “Like you said, Granger, we’ve never been friends. Why start now?”
Instead of answering, she grabbed his left arm and pulled up his sleeve. Alabaster skin glistened in the fading sunlight. Draco sneered down at her surprise. “What, thought you would see the Dark Mark there?”
Closing her gaping mouth, she straightened. “Actually, I did.” She watched him pull his sleeve back in place and softened her tone. “You don’t have to do that, you know. Dumbledore….”
“Dumbledore is a muggle-loving idiot just like Arthur Weasley. No, thanks, I’ll take my chances with…You-Know-Who.”
“Malfoy, you’re such a prat. Dumbledore could help you—protect you.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to protect your mother, aren’t you?”
Her insight shocked him. “How do you know that?”
She got that smug look, the one he despised every time he saw it in class when she answered a question correctly. “She’s the only person in the world that I’ve ever heard that you cared about, besides yourself.”
“What if I am?” He tried not to let her insight bother him, but if he was that transparent to her, then who else was he letting inside?
Her answer, when he chanced a look at her, was a soft smile. “I think that is maybe the only redeeming thing I’ve ever known you to do.”
Hermione straightened and started to walk away but turned back to put a hand on his back between his shoulder blades. Her touch burned through the heavy school robes and sent a shiver of awareness down his spine. “Just remember, if you need a friend you could do worse than Dumbledore. Or me, for that matter. Better a live person than a ghost that can’t do a thing to help you.”
Her footsteps echoed in the arcade as she walked away from him. He watched the gentle sway of her robes as she left, her words seeping beyond the bias and prejudice that he’d always been so sure of. He still needed to keep himself and his mother safe, Voldemort be damned—but while he still would work on the cabinet, there was a lot of food for thought that he needed to digest.
As he made his way back to the Room of Requirement, he pondered on the entire encounter. Had the shoe been on the other foot, he was certain he wouldn’t have saved her; more like he would have given her that extra shove to send her tumbling over the railing to her death. Now? Now he couldn’t be sure of what he would do, her simple statement rattling his foundations so surely that he wasn’t even sure about his next action.
He turned toward the Slytherin dungeons instead of going to the hated room where a vanishing cabinet stood. It would still be there tomorrow; unfortunately, so would his new questions about blood and trust.
