From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 19

Hermione's eyes widened. Malfoy really was questioning everything.

"You're honestly asking me for a logical reason as to why I would consider myself inferior to you?"

He traced a pattern on her quilt with his finger but his gaze didn't waver from hers. "Mmm hmm."

Malfoy was dead serious. He wasn't insulting her. He wasn't lording his blood status over her. He was well and truly interested in what she thought about the rationale for his beliefs. Or... did he even believe those things anymore? He already said he didn't think she was dirty. And he asked her to teach him the Patronus charm, which meant he was admitting to himself and to her that she was better at some forms of magic.

Hermione had been wondering whether or not being in her room had affected him, but here was the proof. Their few interactions were causing Malfoy to question some of the things he was taught growing up. How utterly fascinating that he was asking her of all people. Then again, who else would he discuss this with? He would be treated as a traitor for even considering it.

She looked at him with a newfound respect.

The way he framed the question was an interesting hypothetical thought exercise, she had to admit. He, the pure-blood, asked her, the Muggle-born, to find a logical reason for his bigotry against her. Furthermore, he was asking because respected her intelligence, respected her ability to reason and respected her opinion.

Hermione was floored as she re-evaluated him. Malfoy simply stared back. Interested, but otherwise impassive. If he understood the bomb he just dropped on her, he wasn't revealing anything in his facial expression.

For years, she had often wondered herself why the bigotry against Muggle-borns persisted. Some of it was so inane and she didn't understand how anyone with half a brain could believe the things she heard in school. She had a few theories and compared it to what she knew of divine right rule and royal blood lines, with the Sacred Twenty-eight being the equivalent of royalty. But in the wizarding world it was much worse. There was an added element of racism.

After blinking at him wordlessly while he waited for her to answer, she finally spoke.

"Well, I can certainly see why the belief is so attractive. If pure-bloods are superior to Muggle-borns and half-bloods, then obviously all of that power, wealth and influence is deserved, without even having to work for it. It's preserved within a select few families. And if Muggle-borns and half-bloods want a piece of the pie, you can dismiss them as undeserving and keep it for yourselves. If pure-bloods aren't superior, then what's the justification for keeping everything?"

"Is that all you've got?" Anger and – disappointment? – flashed across his face. Malfoy expected more from her. "This is all because I want to keep your grubby hands off the fruits of my hardworking ancestors?"

She was going to blow this opportunity if she wasn't careful.

"No," Hermione replied slowly.

Yes, it was. But she should choose words that were less antagonistic, or a line of reasoning that was less antagonistic, and not call him out directly. She gathered her thoughts and considered the bigotry she had heard from him and others throughout her years at Hogwarts. Thinking about where to start, she rolled up the plans and set them on her desk.

"Not entirely," she corrected. "Let's take a step back. Mudblood implies that the blood is dirty, whatever that means either literally or figuratively. But for some reason, it's understood that the actual wizard or witch is literally dirty, which..." she held her hand out towards him. "You told me you don't believe that anymore. You always lay down on my bed. If you thought that was true you'd be Scourgifying yourself every time you left my house."