Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. Call J. K. Rowling if you have a
problem with this story, cause its all hers.
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Chapter 5: The Real Draco
Ever since the day Draco had opened up to her, Hermione had tried to be more caring toward him. They weren't great friends, no matter how much Hermione wanted them to be. She could see how alone and depressed Draco was. His father was in jail and his mother had abandoned him. He didn't really have any friends at Hogwarts. Just a bunch of slimy Slytherins who'd turn their backs on him in a second. The only person he had was her, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to forget the six years of torture he'd caused her. She had been kind toward him in a sort of thank you for saving her life. But she was fed up with being kind to someone who constantly made fun of her at school. She'd never admit it, but she held everything that Lucius did against Draco.
And it didn't help that Draco had gone back to his old ways the day after he'd opened up. He'd sensed her resentment toward him and hated her for it. So he went back to being a bastard, as if punishing her for not understanding the rules of forgive and forget. But the tension of the hatred started to build and, with only the two of them in the house (not counting the house elves) there wasn't anyone there to stop them from killing each other.
Hermione walked downstairs the next day for breakfast in her pajamas. She'd thrown her hair up into a very messy pony tail, not feeling like dealing with the amount of frizz it was producing. She turned the corner into the kitchen and threw a disapproving glance at the house elf that was slaving over a stove. But she didn't say anything, knowing that it wouldn't effect anything no matter how much she complained.
"'Morning." Hermione muttered at Draco, who was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Daily Prophet. She sat down across from him, and glared at Draco when he didn't even acknowledge her presence. "...hello?" she asked, waving her hand in front of his face and rolling her eyes when he didn't respond. "Didn't your father teach you any manners." She sighed. Draco's head jerked up, glaring at Hermione.
"Shut up, you stupid Mudblood." He spat. Hermione didn't even bother to look taken aback, even though she was. She'd thought that he was better then that, even if they weren't friends.
Hermione glared at him and stood up from her seat. "I knew you wouldn't change. And, you know what? I don't believe your bullshit story." She turned to leave, but Draco grabbed her arm.
"What?" He demanded, grasping her arm very tightly. Hermione yanked her arm out of his grip.
"I said I don't believe your story about your dad possessing you." Hermione said, glaring at Draco.
"He didn't posses me." Draco argued. "He put a curse over me and controlled-"
"I. Don't. Believe. It." Hermione said slowly as if Draco was rather dense. "You're still the same horrible person you were before." She spat. Draco stayed silent, but that didn't stop him for glaring daggers at Hermione. "I think you're just trying to make some excuse for being the terrible person you are. Well, you know what? I'm not buying it. You've always been like this."
"Like what?" Draco demanded.
"Well, lets start with you insisting on calling me a Mudblood." Hermione said loudly. "Just because you have an all wizard family doesn't mean you should degrade people who don't. It's not a crime to have muggle parents." She said, not allowing herself to let out any emotion besides anger. "You've been horrible your whole life-"
"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't know any other way to act?" Draco shouted, cutting Hermione off and leaving her with a startled look on her face. "After not being myself for six years, I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know how I'm suppose to act because it feels like I've had my father acting for me my whole life. I don't know anything about myself. All I know about me is that I'm an exact clone of my father. And you have no idea how terrifying that thought is." Hermione looked at the ground, not able to stare Draco in the face because of the shame she felt for being so horrible to him when he was so confused and so lost. "I don't know how I'm suppose to act. So I act like I have for the past six years. I've been an ass because I don't know if the real me is suppose to be like that or not."
After a long, uncomfortable silence, Hermione raised her head to speak.
"You're not like your father." Hermione told him. Draco scoffed and didn't look at all convinced. "I'm serious. I can tell that you're not like him. You're kidding yourself if you think that you're half as horrible as Lucius Malfoy."
"Oh really. And how would you know?" Draco sneered.
"Because Lucius Malfoy wouldn't have helped a Mudblood." Hermione said quietly, letting the statement linger in the air for a few moments.
"How do you know that was me?" Draco asked stubbornly. "How do you know that I wasn't just going through some identity crisis and trying to see if the real me was suppose to be like that."
"Why did you do it?" Hermione asked, ignoring everything Draco had just said.
"What the hell does that have to do with-" Draco started.
"Why did you help me?" Hermione asked forcefully. Draco sighed and looked up at the ceiling in thought.
"I donno.... I mean, I couldn't just leave you there to die." he said very defensively. "I'd feel to guilty if I did."
"See?" Hermione said with a small smile. "It was your conscience. That's the only part of you that can distinguish if you are good or bad. A person like your father would have left me there without a second thought. But the fact that your conscience told you that it would be wrong to leave me there, tells me that you're nothing like Lucius."
Draco stood and pondered this for a few minutes. A small smile tugged at his lips, but he refused to let it out.
"So who am I then?" He finally asked.
"I donno." Hermione said truthfully, watching Draco's face fall a little. "But we'll find out with time."
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Sorry so short! I'll try to make the next one longer.
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Chapter 5: The Real Draco
Ever since the day Draco had opened up to her, Hermione had tried to be more caring toward him. They weren't great friends, no matter how much Hermione wanted them to be. She could see how alone and depressed Draco was. His father was in jail and his mother had abandoned him. He didn't really have any friends at Hogwarts. Just a bunch of slimy Slytherins who'd turn their backs on him in a second. The only person he had was her, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to forget the six years of torture he'd caused her. She had been kind toward him in a sort of thank you for saving her life. But she was fed up with being kind to someone who constantly made fun of her at school. She'd never admit it, but she held everything that Lucius did against Draco.
And it didn't help that Draco had gone back to his old ways the day after he'd opened up. He'd sensed her resentment toward him and hated her for it. So he went back to being a bastard, as if punishing her for not understanding the rules of forgive and forget. But the tension of the hatred started to build and, with only the two of them in the house (not counting the house elves) there wasn't anyone there to stop them from killing each other.
Hermione walked downstairs the next day for breakfast in her pajamas. She'd thrown her hair up into a very messy pony tail, not feeling like dealing with the amount of frizz it was producing. She turned the corner into the kitchen and threw a disapproving glance at the house elf that was slaving over a stove. But she didn't say anything, knowing that it wouldn't effect anything no matter how much she complained.
"'Morning." Hermione muttered at Draco, who was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Daily Prophet. She sat down across from him, and glared at Draco when he didn't even acknowledge her presence. "...hello?" she asked, waving her hand in front of his face and rolling her eyes when he didn't respond. "Didn't your father teach you any manners." She sighed. Draco's head jerked up, glaring at Hermione.
"Shut up, you stupid Mudblood." He spat. Hermione didn't even bother to look taken aback, even though she was. She'd thought that he was better then that, even if they weren't friends.
Hermione glared at him and stood up from her seat. "I knew you wouldn't change. And, you know what? I don't believe your bullshit story." She turned to leave, but Draco grabbed her arm.
"What?" He demanded, grasping her arm very tightly. Hermione yanked her arm out of his grip.
"I said I don't believe your story about your dad possessing you." Hermione said, glaring at Draco.
"He didn't posses me." Draco argued. "He put a curse over me and controlled-"
"I. Don't. Believe. It." Hermione said slowly as if Draco was rather dense. "You're still the same horrible person you were before." She spat. Draco stayed silent, but that didn't stop him for glaring daggers at Hermione. "I think you're just trying to make some excuse for being the terrible person you are. Well, you know what? I'm not buying it. You've always been like this."
"Like what?" Draco demanded.
"Well, lets start with you insisting on calling me a Mudblood." Hermione said loudly. "Just because you have an all wizard family doesn't mean you should degrade people who don't. It's not a crime to have muggle parents." She said, not allowing herself to let out any emotion besides anger. "You've been horrible your whole life-"
"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't know any other way to act?" Draco shouted, cutting Hermione off and leaving her with a startled look on her face. "After not being myself for six years, I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know how I'm suppose to act because it feels like I've had my father acting for me my whole life. I don't know anything about myself. All I know about me is that I'm an exact clone of my father. And you have no idea how terrifying that thought is." Hermione looked at the ground, not able to stare Draco in the face because of the shame she felt for being so horrible to him when he was so confused and so lost. "I don't know how I'm suppose to act. So I act like I have for the past six years. I've been an ass because I don't know if the real me is suppose to be like that or not."
After a long, uncomfortable silence, Hermione raised her head to speak.
"You're not like your father." Hermione told him. Draco scoffed and didn't look at all convinced. "I'm serious. I can tell that you're not like him. You're kidding yourself if you think that you're half as horrible as Lucius Malfoy."
"Oh really. And how would you know?" Draco sneered.
"Because Lucius Malfoy wouldn't have helped a Mudblood." Hermione said quietly, letting the statement linger in the air for a few moments.
"How do you know that was me?" Draco asked stubbornly. "How do you know that I wasn't just going through some identity crisis and trying to see if the real me was suppose to be like that."
"Why did you do it?" Hermione asked, ignoring everything Draco had just said.
"What the hell does that have to do with-" Draco started.
"Why did you help me?" Hermione asked forcefully. Draco sighed and looked up at the ceiling in thought.
"I donno.... I mean, I couldn't just leave you there to die." he said very defensively. "I'd feel to guilty if I did."
"See?" Hermione said with a small smile. "It was your conscience. That's the only part of you that can distinguish if you are good or bad. A person like your father would have left me there without a second thought. But the fact that your conscience told you that it would be wrong to leave me there, tells me that you're nothing like Lucius."
Draco stood and pondered this for a few minutes. A small smile tugged at his lips, but he refused to let it out.
"So who am I then?" He finally asked.
"I donno." Hermione said truthfully, watching Draco's face fall a little. "But we'll find out with time."
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Sorry so short! I'll try to make the next one longer.