Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy (Book 1)

Chapter 3 : Reparations

Reparations

"You're a bloody idiot."

She stopped at the words, the door barely shut behind her as Draco's voice assaulted her ears.

"What?"

She saw him pacing by the fireplace, his body drawn tight with frustration, his cold eyes stormy as he pushed back obvious fury. Every step was violence-filled, reminding her of a predator on the loose, furious after having lost its prey.

"You're an idiot!" he cried, rounding on her. "I don't understand your reasoning! You say that he's not worth it, that I shouldn't hex him and a whole pile of other bullshit. If you say he's not worth it, then why did you let him make you cry?"

She winced at his words, hands twisting painfully in anxiety as he shouted at her. She didn't understand why he was so infuriated; he had no reason to be acting in such a way because she'd been called a bitch.

But he had mentioned her tears. Had he seen her crying before? Had he watched Ron scream at her until she sobbed her heart out in some dark corner, alone and away from the world?

If he did, then why did it seem to bother him so much?

What was going on? It was as though in a matter of days Draco had completely changed.

Everyone had changed.

"Look, Malfoy," she began quietly, not wanting to go from one confrontation to another, "no matter how many times we've argued, Ron is still my friend. Just because he called me a bitch doesn't mean our friendship is over and he deserves to be hexed. He's a git, not a murderer."

"How can you say this? At least I've never made you cry!" he shouted, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "You're so bloody unreasonable!"

"You're right."

He stopped in his tracks, hands caught in his hair as his eyes looked over to her. "What did you just say?"

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and fought back the bitter pain that filled her at this realization. "I said that you're right. You never really made me cry. If I remember correctly, Ron was actually the first person here to make me cry."

He saw the way pain filled her face, saw the way her hands clenched and unclenched by her sides, and watched as her body tensed. He knew she was hurt, he knew that she wanted nothing more than to hide in her room and cry, and he, inexplicably, wanted to go over there and comfort her.

But he knew better than to do that; they weren't friends and they certainly weren't lovers. They were just acquaintances; two people forced to live together and forced to understand each other.

It was because he wasn't used to seeing her hurt, he thought, that's why he wanted to comfort her. He was used to seeing her strong and confident, not shaking with the effort to not cry.

That's all. He just wanted the normal Hermione back so that things could go back to normal.

He couldn't care about her.

"Look, Granger, I know that you say he's not worth it, that he's just a git and it isn't worth getting expelled because of him, but you have to stand up to him one day. You can't keep letting him push you around like this. It's ... almost abusive."

"He's just upset because I don't want to spend Christmas with him and his family," she muttered, trying to ignore the last word Draco said. Ron was anything but abusive. Stupid? Yes. But abusive, he was certainly not.

"Besides," she added as she began to head for the staircase leading to the bedrooms, "I've been called worse. You should know."

She disappeared up the stairs before he could say another word. Frustrated beyond belief, unable to understand just why she was so stubborn and unbelievably stupid at times, he picked up the nearest item – a pillow – and tossed it angrily into the fire.