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Linked by Philyra912
 Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Romance, Draco M., Hermione G., Words: 61k+, Favs: 4k+, Follows: 920, Published: Jun 18, 2005 Updated: Jan 5, 2006
 2,542 Chapter 11: Her Darkest Night
Disclaimer: How about this? As soon as I hit the lottery, develop the ability to telepathically influence the decisions of others, buy the rights to the Harry Potter universe from the great and most admirable J.K. Rowling, and therefore own Harry Potter, I'll let you know. Until then, let's just assume I don't.
A/N: Okay, don't hate me, but I suppose it's time to tell you guys that I will be going on vacation for a week and a half. Starting Wednesday. Ducks behind her desk for cover from any objects that are thrown in her direction. Don't hate me! I will update on Tuesday night, and try to get another chapter written before I leave so I can post it approximately halfway through the trip. When I return, updates will continue at their usual pace. Please, please don't hate me!
So this chapter is slighter longer than most are, and once again I am not entirely happy with it. Knowing how I feel about keeping Hermione true to the books, you'll understand why. Tell me what you think, please. On to the chapter!
Chapter 10: Her Darkest Night
He found her in an empty classroom, staring out the window and positively seething with fury. She didn't turn to look at him when he walked in.
"Go. Away." He ignored the command she issued through gritted teeth and moved deftly across the room to stand a few feet away from her still, tense form. At this distance, her rage was almost powerful enough to send him staggering back.
"I'm not evil, Granger," he said to the back of her bushy head. The sound that issued from her throat might have been intended as a derisive laugh, but it came out nearer to a sob. She turned to look at him with bitter disappointment and something akin to betrayal in her turbulent eyes.
"Really? Well, you do a fine job of hiding it." She was just about to turn away dismissively again, but he moved forward until their noses were inches apart. She glared back up at him with a fury to match his own, her eyes slitted and defiant.
"What are you going to do, Malfoy?" she asked, almost tauntingly. "Stare at me until I see reason and understand that I am an inferior life form? Talk me to death with all your pretty, empty words about heritage and ancestry and birthrights?" She tilted her head as though considering an idea that had just occurred to her. Malfoy sensed a dangerous and foreign recklessness rising in her, and he knew that whatever came out of her mouth next would be something they would both regret. "Or perhaps you'll just save yourself the trouble and get rid of me, the way your father would?"
He wondered vaguely when she had acquired so much power over him that so few words could hurt him so deeply. She had seen the monster his father had become, seen the atrocities he had committed. To hear her compare him to Lucius when she had been as much a victim of his cruelty as Draco himself felt oddly and horribly like . . . betrayal.
"I am not my father!" He was yelling now, though she was still no more than few inches in front of him. Whatever remorse she had felt (and, had he been calmer, he would have realized that it was both abundant and sincere) vanished, replaced by still more anger. He would not have thought calm, logical Granger capable of feeling anything so passionately.
"No, you're not!" she agreed, yelling right back at him. "You're not your father because your father has been festering in his hate for forty years instead of seventeen. That's what hate does to a person, you know. It consumes them. He's had half a lifetime to let his prejudice poison him, eat him alive from the inside, hollow him out until all that was left was the hatred. You're not your father yet, Malfoy, but if you don't wake up soon, you will be!"
