Tainted - {d.m. & h.g.}

six - snow | throats

              song: i don't mind - fnkhouser

HERMIONE

She finds herself feeling dangerously anxious during dinner in the Great Hall, spooning lemon custard into her mouth with a shaking hand— the sweetness sure to spoil her entree. Ginny, however, is just eyeing her with concern written heavily into her features.

"Have you had a run in with him, or something?" the red-headed witch questions in a hushed tone, moving a half-eaten slice of roast around her plate with the scrape of her fork, "Because you're acting off your bloody rocker."

Hermione sucks on her teeth, agitated with herself for letting her emotions run transparent, "Is it that obvious?" She releases the spoon into the dessert dish, causing a clanking noise that adverts the attention of a few Gryffindors seated nearby— she holds her palms up in apology; and revisits her eyes to Ginny, "Yeah— he was in the headroom earlier, fucking shirtless no less— we're supposed to meet tonight to discuss Head Student business—but he's just hard to be around, you know? It feels wrong— I mean— weird to be in such proximity to him. He makes me feel on edge."

Ginny develops self-satisfactory, smug grin on her face as she lets Hermione finish her blabbing, "Not the infamous Draco Malfoy causing Hermione Granger, the great war heroine, to be so damned on edge about a simple meeting— he must have looked damned good shirtless" she giggles with each word.

"I'm being serious Ginny," she says, nudging her shoulder with her own in a joking manner, "he's— he's different now. He's always been vile, yes; but now he's walking corruption— it's bloody terrifying," she says, focusing on her fingers fiddling with the tip of the spoon she just unhandled a few moments ago, "he looks at me like he wants me dead— and he wants to be the one to commit the crime."

"Oh please, 'Mione— Malfoy's nothing but a spoilt little prat," Ron chimes in, chewing on the side of a chicken leg, "he's a bloody ex death eater— and he couldn't even do that job correctly without mommy's help— bloody useless," he shakes his head, picking aimlessly at the greasy skin of the drumstick.

"Don't be so insulting, Ronald," Ginny shoves his burly shoulder with her small hand, "he's been through hell— just like the rest of us."

"He didn't lose a fucking brother," Ron snaps almost immediately after Ginny gets her last word out, "he doesn't know the first thing about hell, Ginevra."

"He lost his dignity— his childhood, it was robbed of him Ron, you've seen the articles in the papers about his father— Lucius' trial wasn't just focused on the subject of the second wizarding war— no. Child maltreatment is on his list of crimes in bold, red lettering. Malfoy's not cruel for no reason. His father put the weight of the world on his shoulders, and when he couldn't carry it, he beat him— he beat him the good old fashioned muggle way," she's whispering, and Hermione's wondering when she's had time to develop a pity for the boy, "it's time we drop the grudges, Ron; and move on. It does no good to dwell— even Harry agrees with me on this."

Hermione feels an uninvited lump wedge itself in the base of her throat— she thinks back to the rows of scars that flawed his chest that she caught sight of earlier during their unpleasant encounter. Ron just rolls his eyes, cheeks red from anger as he refocuses his eyes on the plate of food in front of him.

"He saved Harry once," she blurts, "If— if we're discussing his very few redeeming qualities," she's surprised the words tumble from her mouth, the two red heads snap to her in confusion, "he— he knew who he was at the Malfoy's Manor— when Harry's face was all swollen and mangled up— he— he claimed he didn't recognize him. Harry's life was on the line in that very moment— a simple yes would have ended it all right then and there; and none of us would be sitting here," she chokes the words out like they're poison.