Lover of the Light

Of Open Doors

Lover of the Light

Chapter Fourteen: Of Open Doors

She was staring at him again. She tried not to, she really did, but without permission her eyes just moved from the page of her book to the person sitting across from her. It was completely unacceptable. She was not okay with losing concentration like that, with her eyes daring to shift away from the incredible writing of the book she was reading; and let her not get into the fact that her brain had the audacity not to process word for word what was going on in the story. For goodness sakes, she was stuck on the same page for twenty-seven minutes now. She was tempted to hit her head repeatedly on the surface of the table just to get everything in order again. She really was close to doing so, but she was certain that if she gave in to that he'd see what he causing.

What on Merlin's earth was he causing, anyway? She hadn't the foggiest.

Whatever it was, it was not okay. Her mind and body were going rogue. It was not simply that she kept staring at him, eyes zooming to his persona like he was some sort of magnetic field, nor that her brain couldn't concentrate on the simple task of reading a book; it was that her mind was coming up with absurd thoughts. It started processing the idea that it was perfectly fine to be around him, to enjoy their conversations, the silence, the banter, the witty insults. Her mind was starting to formulate the concept of letting him in.

She'd been completely honest with him when she said she forgave him for the terrible things he said and did to her since they were children, but she never really considered friendship sprouting from that. She figured her forgiveness was what he needed to breathe a little better, to relieve some weight of his past on his shoulders, to ease his nightmares, and that was it. The long shot was becoming respectful familiars. Fate, however, was drawing up another conclusion.

Draco Malfoy was becoming a decent human being in her eyes.

Stripping away all of his defensive mechanisms, the way he nastily tended to stay on top of the food chain, and adding all the changes he'd gone through since the war, all the lessons he'd learned and the effort he was putting in living in present times—well, that was some sort of intriguing.

She always believed the best in people, and there'd been a time when she believed that Malfoy was one of the exceptions of that belief, but now she was being proved wrong. If there was something Hermione thrived on, it was a challenge and seeing it to the end to receive the correct answer. Except, in this case, she wasn't sure if she liked it.

He was becoming easier to be around with after he apologized: he talked a little more freely, sometimes revealing things she'd never figured she'd know about him, like his favorite book, random events in his childhood, or his fascination for Potions and Alchemy. He still liked to have a blank mask on most of the time, a coldness about him that seemed like walls to hide behind, but there were few occasions when he smiled, when he smirked teasingly, when he said something pleasant, or when he laughed. (Merlin, she never thought she'd hear him laugh without malice.)

He asked questions about her, too. He asked what her favorite book was; who her favorite author was, magical and not; what her favorite memory was as a child; what she wanted to do after Hogwarts; why she found Ancient Runes so fascinating, why she was so stubborn—he particularly asked that question a lot—and if she thought people were split in either black or white.

He was surprising her with his neutral side. And though she could never forget what he did, what he said, who he used to be, she was beginning to see him as something new. Her mind was starting to swamp the image she had of him as ignorant pureblood to a boy who didn't have a choice. She was starting to see him not as a previous supporter of blood supremacy, but as someone caught in the complicated scheme of war and power. She was starting to see him as the boy who was willing to commit murder to ensure his parents' well-being—something she could not judge at all because she'd do it in a heartbeat if that was the only choice; even now.