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bookishwench) wrote2009-02-03 11:53 am
bookishwench) wrote2009-02-03 11:53 am
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Fic: Shadowed Lives Chapter 14 "Diverging Paths" (Dramione)
Link to previous parts here
Author: Meltha
Rating: PG at this point, but likely to rise
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Currently, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Again, this will rise.
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: Draco’s world keeps getting turned upside down, and it appears Hermione’s is too.
Disclaimer: All characters are created by J. K. Rowling, a wonderful writer whose works I greatly enjoy. I have borrowed them for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Author Note: Some information double-checked through the Harry Potter Lexicon.
Part 14: Diverging Paths
Draco ran through the Slytherin common room and into the dormitory, quickly opening his trunk and stowing away his books before heading to lunch. There was really no rush, but Draco was trying to outrun the disturbing thoughts that were lurking in his mind.
Professor McGonagall was, in a word, fascinating. Draco had been around wizards his entire life, and she had performed highly advanced, rare magic with an almost graceful nonchalance that was very nearly worthy of a Malfoy. This was what he had expected of Hogwarts: a professor with amazing skills and complete professionalism.
What he hadn’t been expecting was for the first really good professor he came across to be a Gryffindor. As he walked a bit too briskly towards the Great Hall, he started to mull things over, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. First the exaggeration about Mudbloods when the truth was they really didn’t look like animals or act like wild hooligans. Then the realization that Purebloods of good standing could wind up in houses other than Slytherin and even be happy about it. Now, on top of everything else, a Gryffindor of all things was easily one of the most competent and powerful professors in the school.
For one brief, insane moment, Draco wondered if it was possible his parents might have gotten some things, well, not wrong, of course, but maybe twisted somehow. Draco chose to put the sudden dropping of his stomach down to being hungry, along with the oddly light-headed feeling. If only he could just get that book back from Pansy so he could learn who his enemies were before he did something really stupid.
Caught up in his own thoughts, he nearly collided with Hermione, who was coming from the direction of the library.
“Sorry,” he said, bending to pick up the books he’d knocked out of her hands. “My brain’s off somewhere else.”
“Thank you,” she said, tucking an absolutely terrifyingly large tome with a title longer than his arm back into her bookbag. “Madam Pince would go into fits if she saw this on the ground. It’s really old, and she only let me take it out after practically swearing me to defend it with my life. I love books, but she’s kind of scary.”
“I had McGonagall today,” Draco said, pausing uncomfortably before he went on. “You’re right. She’s really good.”
Hermione beamed at him.
“Yes, she is. I think I’m going to learn a lot from her,” Hermione said.
“It’s strange, liking a Gryffindor professor,” Draco said. “We’re not really supposed to do that.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” she said, frowning. “I understand the idea of building morale through healthy competition, but it just feels so completely, I don’t know, barbaric somehow, separating everyone into groups. Besides, I-I’m starting to feel like I’m in the wrong house.”
This time it was Draco who smiled. He’d known it. He’d known the Sorting Hat had made a mistake. After all, it was just some flea-bitten old lump of felt that was so filthy that if it were ever cleaned there’d be nothing left of it but moldy lint. It was only logical it would malfunction after a while. Maybe he could petition his father to have her re-Sorted into the proper place, which naturally would be Slytherin.
“Why do you think that?” Draco asked.
“Oh, it’s just that, well,” Hermione said, biting her lip as she searched for the words, “I get the feeling the other Gryffindors think I’m rather, I don’t know, odd, maybe?”
“Odd?” Draco said, honestly confused.
“It seems like all the things I care about, they don’t very much, and the things that seem important to them aren’t to me,” she blurted out as though she’d been thinking about this for a while. “Lavender and Parvati, the other two Gryffindor girls, the only things they ever talk about are clothes and beauty magazines and who isn’t wearing the right kind of shoes with their robes. They’re sort of catty, really. And the boys seem worse if anything. They’re so… juvenile, I guess is the word. No one pays any attention to their studies it seems, and just because I do, I’m some sort of a freak or a goody-goody or something.”
He blinked. She really did seem on the cusp of breaking down entirely, tears starting to pop into her eyes, and that made him deeply uncomfortable. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder.
“They’re fools, then,” he said finally. “We’re supposed to be learning stuff! What are they going to do, fail Hogwarts with a load of T’s on their exams because it’s not fashionable to study?”
“The Sorting Hat gave me the option to be in Ravenclaw,” Hermione said miserably, “but I think I might have done the wrong thing when I said no.”
“Ravenclaw?” Draco said, staring at her as his visions of her in green and silver evaporated. “Seriously?”
“Yes, but, oh, it was probably stupid of me, but it just seemed so stereotypical for me to be put in the house with all the brainy people. I mean, I’m smart, but there are other bits to who I am other than that, and I figured I could learn just as well in any house but that Gryffindor might expand my horizons or something,” she said.
Draco couldn’t for the life of him figure out what kind of horizons a Gryffindor had that were any good at all. At least, he thought to himself, she hadn’t said Hufflepuff. That would suggest brain damage.
“Have you thought of petitioning the Headmaster?” he asked.
“Yes, but when I asked Professor McGonagall about it, she just shook her head and said when a student has been Sorted, the decision is final. There’s no way to make an appeal,” Hermione said.
Once again, Draco was smacked in the face with something he couldn’t understand. Why should the school not accommodate anything a Pureblood asked for? They’d actually said no to her. With a grimace, he realized that meant the same thing might happen to him as well. Still, the problem of a rather watery-eyed Hermione was walking next to him as they slowly approached the Great Hall.
“Eh, it can’t be that bad,” he said, though he really couldn’t imagine much worse than being stuck in Gryffindor. “It’s not like there’s any rule that says you have to spend all your time with them.”
“I suppose,” she said, then added abruptly, “but I’d much rather be with you.”
“Yeah, well, who wouldn’t?” he said, pleased. “I have to admit, Crabbe and Goyle aren’t exactly the greatest intellects I’ve ever come across either, but they’re alright in their own way. Maybe if you just give it some more time?”
“Maybe,” she said, then shrugged.
“Well, this is where we separate,” he said as they entered the Great Hall and glanced over at the Slytherin table, “at least for now. Keep your chin up, Mademoiselle d’Arc.”
She looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed as she remembered he was referring to her middle name.
It was good to see her laugh as she walked away to the Gryffindor table. Draco decided not to question why he felt a particle of regret that he wasn’t walking with her to join the rest of the red and gold throng. Instead, he sat next to Nott, grabbed a ladle of hot chicken with roast potatoes and gravy, and fell to.
On to part 15 here.
Author: Meltha
Rating: PG at this point, but likely to rise
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Currently, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Again, this will rise.
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: Draco’s world keeps getting turned upside down, and it appears Hermione’s is too.
Disclaimer: All characters are created by J. K. Rowling, a wonderful writer whose works I greatly enjoy. I have borrowed them for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Author Note: Some information double-checked through the Harry Potter Lexicon.
Part 14: Diverging Paths
Draco ran through the Slytherin common room and into the dormitory, quickly opening his trunk and stowing away his books before heading to lunch. There was really no rush, but Draco was trying to outrun the disturbing thoughts that were lurking in his mind.
Professor McGonagall was, in a word, fascinating. Draco had been around wizards his entire life, and she had performed highly advanced, rare magic with an almost graceful nonchalance that was very nearly worthy of a Malfoy. This was what he had expected of Hogwarts: a professor with amazing skills and complete professionalism.
What he hadn’t been expecting was for the first really good professor he came across to be a Gryffindor. As he walked a bit too briskly towards the Great Hall, he started to mull things over, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. First the exaggeration about Mudbloods when the truth was they really didn’t look like animals or act like wild hooligans. Then the realization that Purebloods of good standing could wind up in houses other than Slytherin and even be happy about it. Now, on top of everything else, a Gryffindor of all things was easily one of the most competent and powerful professors in the school.
For one brief, insane moment, Draco wondered if it was possible his parents might have gotten some things, well, not wrong, of course, but maybe twisted somehow. Draco chose to put the sudden dropping of his stomach down to being hungry, along with the oddly light-headed feeling. If only he could just get that book back from Pansy so he could learn who his enemies were before he did something really stupid.
Caught up in his own thoughts, he nearly collided with Hermione, who was coming from the direction of the library.
“Sorry,” he said, bending to pick up the books he’d knocked out of her hands. “My brain’s off somewhere else.”
“Thank you,” she said, tucking an absolutely terrifyingly large tome with a title longer than his arm back into her bookbag. “Madam Pince would go into fits if she saw this on the ground. It’s really old, and she only let me take it out after practically swearing me to defend it with my life. I love books, but she’s kind of scary.”
“I had McGonagall today,” Draco said, pausing uncomfortably before he went on. “You’re right. She’s really good.”
Hermione beamed at him.
“Yes, she is. I think I’m going to learn a lot from her,” Hermione said.
“It’s strange, liking a Gryffindor professor,” Draco said. “We’re not really supposed to do that.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” she said, frowning. “I understand the idea of building morale through healthy competition, but it just feels so completely, I don’t know, barbaric somehow, separating everyone into groups. Besides, I-I’m starting to feel like I’m in the wrong house.”
This time it was Draco who smiled. He’d known it. He’d known the Sorting Hat had made a mistake. After all, it was just some flea-bitten old lump of felt that was so filthy that if it were ever cleaned there’d be nothing left of it but moldy lint. It was only logical it would malfunction after a while. Maybe he could petition his father to have her re-Sorted into the proper place, which naturally would be Slytherin.
“Why do you think that?” Draco asked.
“Oh, it’s just that, well,” Hermione said, biting her lip as she searched for the words, “I get the feeling the other Gryffindors think I’m rather, I don’t know, odd, maybe?”
“Odd?” Draco said, honestly confused.
“It seems like all the things I care about, they don’t very much, and the things that seem important to them aren’t to me,” she blurted out as though she’d been thinking about this for a while. “Lavender and Parvati, the other two Gryffindor girls, the only things they ever talk about are clothes and beauty magazines and who isn’t wearing the right kind of shoes with their robes. They’re sort of catty, really. And the boys seem worse if anything. They’re so… juvenile, I guess is the word. No one pays any attention to their studies it seems, and just because I do, I’m some sort of a freak or a goody-goody or something.”
He blinked. She really did seem on the cusp of breaking down entirely, tears starting to pop into her eyes, and that made him deeply uncomfortable. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder.
“They’re fools, then,” he said finally. “We’re supposed to be learning stuff! What are they going to do, fail Hogwarts with a load of T’s on their exams because it’s not fashionable to study?”
“The Sorting Hat gave me the option to be in Ravenclaw,” Hermione said miserably, “but I think I might have done the wrong thing when I said no.”
“Ravenclaw?” Draco said, staring at her as his visions of her in green and silver evaporated. “Seriously?”
“Yes, but, oh, it was probably stupid of me, but it just seemed so stereotypical for me to be put in the house with all the brainy people. I mean, I’m smart, but there are other bits to who I am other than that, and I figured I could learn just as well in any house but that Gryffindor might expand my horizons or something,” she said.
Draco couldn’t for the life of him figure out what kind of horizons a Gryffindor had that were any good at all. At least, he thought to himself, she hadn’t said Hufflepuff. That would suggest brain damage.
“Have you thought of petitioning the Headmaster?” he asked.
“Yes, but when I asked Professor McGonagall about it, she just shook her head and said when a student has been Sorted, the decision is final. There’s no way to make an appeal,” Hermione said.
Once again, Draco was smacked in the face with something he couldn’t understand. Why should the school not accommodate anything a Pureblood asked for? They’d actually said no to her. With a grimace, he realized that meant the same thing might happen to him as well. Still, the problem of a rather watery-eyed Hermione was walking next to him as they slowly approached the Great Hall.
“Eh, it can’t be that bad,” he said, though he really couldn’t imagine much worse than being stuck in Gryffindor. “It’s not like there’s any rule that says you have to spend all your time with them.”
“I suppose,” she said, then added abruptly, “but I’d much rather be with you.”
“Yeah, well, who wouldn’t?” he said, pleased. “I have to admit, Crabbe and Goyle aren’t exactly the greatest intellects I’ve ever come across either, but they’re alright in their own way. Maybe if you just give it some more time?”
“Maybe,” she said, then shrugged.
“Well, this is where we separate,” he said as they entered the Great Hall and glanced over at the Slytherin table, “at least for now. Keep your chin up, Mademoiselle d’Arc.”
She looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed as she remembered he was referring to her middle name.
It was good to see her laugh as she walked away to the Gryffindor table. Draco decided not to question why he felt a particle of regret that he wasn’t walking with her to join the rest of the red and gold throng. Instead, he sat next to Nott, grabbed a ladle of hot chicken with roast potatoes and gravy, and fell to.
On to part 15 here.