This Is War

God and the Devil

Beside the many obvious reasons as to why Draco did not understand Muggles, the way they lived or how they managed to get by doing everything by hand, the main thing that bewildered him was their concept of God and the Devil.

He once heard a Muggle-Born, a Ravenclaw, talking about the Devil. The Ravenclaw had committed a sin, Draco had overheard, and knew he was going straight to hell without this God forgiving him for it. Draco did not know exactly what the Ravenclaw had done to damn himself so thoroughly, but now the idea of two opposite beings was implanted in Draco's head. Unbeknownst to him of why it was so important, Draco searched for the answer in textbooks.

For most Muggles religion is a key factor of their lives. It is their belief that there is a balance between Good and Bad, Light and Dark. God is the person that resides in Heaven, that created people and watches over them from above.  He is the ultimate being. He is the one with the power to save you, your soul, and the ones you love. Now, the Devil's the exact opposite. He is the one that drags you down, that puts you down roads of temptation that will seduce you to breaking every rule religion says goes against God. The Devil is the Prince of Darkness, the one that will destroy without mercy.

So, as he sits on an armchair, surrounded by people that annoy him, that he would hex without a second thought, Draco is certain the Muggle's God is punishing him for the sins he has committed. Draco was to suffer in silent misery as a penalty for those sins while the Devil laughs in the background.

"So, what do you think?"

Blinking away from his internal cursing, Draco  looked up at a redhead with brown eyes that were not his. "About what?" he managed to say in a Granger-like tone.

The Gryffindor redhead untucked her legs from beneath her, sitting upright on the ground by the fireplace where she had several parchments scattered around her. "About the ending paragraph for my Herbology essay. It's due next hour, remember?" When her friend did not respond, Ginny Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Where's your head, Hermione? You've been looking distracted since breakfast."

Swallowing a retort about how she should mind her own damn business, how her essay was none of his concern, and the fact that she depended on Know-it-All Granger to deem it acceptable was pathetic, Draco settled on shrugging his shoulders. "Just tired," he responded, knowing that was the best explanation.

However, not counting that she was far more attuned to Hermione's way of being, Ginny narrowed her eyes at the person before her. "You've been ill, haven't you?"

Draco rose a brow that was not his. He could feel himself becoming confused, sure that the exterior reflected Granger's warm tendencies — something that he wasn't.

"I know we promised never to bring the subject up, but I think it's necessary," Ginny said to her friend, now worried. "I know that you're trying to handle what happened on your own, maybe for Harry's sake, but you — "

Just as Malfoy was edging to the end of the armchair, unwillingly interested with what the Weaslette was about to bring up, a group of Gryffindors tossed themselves onto the couch beside his armchair, disrupting everything.

"Bloody Slytherins," Dean Thomas grumbled first, leaning back tiredly on the couch.

Forgetting all about what she was going to divulge, Ginny threw a questioning stare at the boy. "What did Malfoy do now?"

In his seat, disguised by a terrible joke as the Brightest Witch of the Age, Draco narrowed his eyes at the Weasley girl.

"It wasn't that git," Thomas snapped, looking properly disgusted by the name — which certainly had to do with the fact that he'd been imprisoned in Draco's cellar the past summer (but that was not something Draco wanted to recall at the present moment). "It was Zabini and Nott."