The Rivalry

Hermione knew there was a way to retain friendships after sore words were exchanged, but she didn't know the trick of it. The rule had been, one forgave one's friends their grievances simply because they were friends and one had to make allowances to keep friendships didn't they? It was safer to have friends than to go it alone. Everyone knew the rule. Everyone followed it. But not Harry. He had come into this magical world with a better grip in socialization than Hermione, but still an abnormal one. It was quite clear Harry was not used to large bouts of socializing, or indeed talking, and was often uncomfortable with physical or emotional intimacy. Oh he gave the correct responses, he grave a smile or a nod when he ought and he creased his brows to show confusion, gave a frown when he was displeased. You knew, generally, how he felt. It seemed to her, though she didn't dare bring it up it would be unspeakably rude, that Harry trained himself to respond appropriately with no real connection to the responses given. It wasn't that he didn't have feelings, she'd seen him annoyed and upset in fleeting moments, it more as if he didn't respond the way normal people did. He didn't get frightened for his life in dangerous situations, he didn't get offended when others would, he didn't laugh when others might. At first she guessed he simply had a different way of looking at things. But no. Even more clear now than it ever was, Harry was pretending.

Pretending to be happy or unhappy or whatever the necessary emotion was required for him to communicate with the people around him. The responses he gave was for their benefit. In reality, Harry felt differently than he expressed and what he did genuinely feel no one would ever know. He didn't share it. Harry kept his truest self locked within layers of rock and thorned bushes and high, slick walls. Was it because he didn't trust them? That hurt. He ought to trust them, they always went along with his dangerous escapades didn't they? And she hadn't told anyone about freeing his Godfather or that he blew up his aunt. They kept his secrets didn't they? No one knew about his home-life, what they knew of it anyway. He wasn't forthcoming about it.

So, why...

He just didn't make any sense! She growled, frustrated, and pushed her book away from her.

Across from her sits Harry, dark hair in his face, eyes focused on paperwork places before him that doesn't have anything to do with school, though he isn't sharing anything beyond that. Indeed, she'd only gleaned that much because she'd glanced at it and hadn't recognized a thing. It made her a bit put out honestly. She didn't know if she was more upset that Harry was obviously smarter than she'd known or that he was deliberately wasting his intelligence on things like Quidditch and befriending Slytherins.

Her breath left in a huff, a hand resting against her cheek. She studied her friend.

He was different. He had always been different, actually, but more so lately. While before his simply kept his true feelings watered down or hidden, now it was as if nothing reached him. Oh he was even better at socializing now but it was all so...automatic.

There was only one thing that produced a proper reaction anymore. She muttered a less than favorable remark about Malfoy and waited for it.

Harry looked up. "Leave it alone Hermione."

"I am just trying to understand this obsession with him Harry. Is it Malfoy specifically or do you thrill playing in the dark?"

"That depends on entirely your chosen definition of Dark."

"He's cruel." She listed, "He's underhanded, he's sneaky, he's rude. He's dismissive of anyone he doesn't think is important, he's called me a mudblood, he cheated to get on the Quidditch team.." She stopped, taking a breath, cheeks flushed. Apparently she'd been wanting to rant about him for a time now. Well, at least he was less likely to realize she was analyzing his reactions, she thought.

"I've never seen him be cruel." Said Harry, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully, "But I won't deny the potential. Sneaky? Yes. Very much so, but I think I'm a bit sneaky in some ways. What with the invisibility cloak and going about after hours on deadly adventures and all of that. He isn't rude. Draco is never rude. He's the politest person I've ever met actually. I wouldn't call him nice, but certainly not rude. He isn't dismissive of anyone in particular, he tends to treat everyone that way so thats more fairness than anything else I think."

She noted the odd pained expression that flitted across his face sometimes, the way he stiffened for a moment before relaxing. "And calling me a mudblood?"

Harry gave an unrepentant shrug. "He was bragging to me about getting on the team and his new broom an you just had to run up and insult him didn't you? He was twelve, of course he got defensive. And Draco's a smart guy, an observant guy, if he resorted to name calling it's because thats all he could find worthy of using as an insult. It's actually a compliment. You may have to squint at it a bit before you see what I mean though. His way of thinking is a bit off until you get used to it. He didn't cheat by the way. His father bought the broom for Draco so he could compete with my Nimbus 2000. He got the newest because Merlin forbid a Malfoy have anything last season." His lips quirked up at that, "and Draco made him get one for all of his team members so there wouldn't be any resentment on the team."

Ron, who'd walked up while Harry was talking, sat next to her. She quite hoped he was too surprised to have a go at Harry, she was certainly interested in the usage of 'Draco'.

Ron broke the silence. "How do you know all of that?"

The smaller Gryffindor blinked, as if it should be obvious. "He told me."

"What? That just came up during one of your duels? Defendo! Oh and by the way, how'd you get on the team?" Asked Ron sarcastically, and a tad jealously.

"No. We talked about it in detention actually."

"You talk in detention?"

"What else is there to do?"

Hermione had to give him that one.

Ron scowled. "You could ignore the git."

Harry smiled at that. "It's hard to do that. He hates manual labor, as you can imagine it is foreign to him, and when he get's detention with Filch he always makes him clean without magic. Malfoy will sit there and stare at the bucket like it's acid and Filch is trying to kill him. Then he'll whine about it softly. Then it gets a bit louder until I have to walk over and show him what to do. We usually end up talking after that."

She tilted her head and examined him. His eyes a bit brighter, his expression less forced, though he did flicker with pain. Odd...

"What?" he asked.

"I'm not sure." She murmured. "Something is strange here."

"Why?"

Ron snorted. "You're asking why it's weird Harry Potter likes Draco Malfoy?"

Harry stiffened again, jaw clenched, one of his arms close to his side. "Yes. What do our names have anything to do with it? Why can't I just like him and let that be that?"

Ron, no doubt preparing to say something stupid, was prevented by Harry gathering his things and walking away.

"Where are you going?" Ron demanded.

"To find Draco. Maybe learn some new curses, torture a Hufflepuff. All that jazz."

Hermione stumbled from her chair, catching him by the sleeve. "We just don't want him to get his claws in you Harry." She said it softly, but he tilted his head to let her know he'd heard her. Than he, gently, removed her hand and left them.

She stood there. What was she missing? Behind her Ron stomped off to do whatever it was Ron did these days. She hardly saw him anymore. And when she did she hardly recognized him. She knew, truly she did, that Ron meant the best. He was unbalanced from the sudden change in dynamic and it was partially his fault. If he'd left Harry alone Harry would have pretended to have forgiven him by know, as he usually did. But things were going on as they normally did, things were changing. Quickly. It was unnerving everyone, Gryffindor or not. Hermione bit her lip. She could say the same thing for Harry, she was learning things she'd managed not to know it four years and it was hard to understand why. Harry had always played his part so well.

A blur of white-blonde hair darted out of the dark corners of the library to her right, out the doors after Harry.

Her brown eyes narrowed.

She waited half a minute then followed after him. She didn't have far to go. Immediately outside the library Harry stood to one side, several Ravenclaws, covered in eagle feathers, were magically restrained beside him, looking incredibly embarrassed. Directly in front of her Malfoy stood over a first year Slytherin, sprawled on the floor sporting a bloody lip.

Malfoy tilted the boys chin and muttered a healing spell.

"Does it get easier?" The first year asked him, his voice a bit shaken. The Ravenclaws must have been picking on him, she guessed.

Malfoy considered the question before answering, seeming to take it very seriously. "Life doesn't get easier or more forgiving as we go along, we get stronger and more resilient. With every blow, every scrape, every close call, every mile on our knees, we grow. Our skin hardens and thickens, are knees become inflexible, we swallow pointless complaints and we stand again and again until we aren't afraid of falling anymore."

The first year rubbed his cheeks furiously, took a deep breath and allowed Malfoy to pull him to his feet. "I understand."

Hermione cleared her throat to draw attention to herself. She empathized with Malfoy's surprising sense of house loyalty however he should have sent for a professor, or at least a prefect.

"What happened?" she asked.

Harry and Malfoy exchanged a look. "They," said Harry, nodding at the feathered Ravenclaws, "were giving the little one a hard time."

She let her eyes roam them, red faced and covered in thousands of feather. They were only second years after all.

"And this was the only way you could think of to resolve the situation?"

Malfoy whispered something to the first year who took off, in a run that was more of a walk because Slytherins didn't do things like run in the halls, and turned to her. "Well, first I thought about challenging them to a game of chess, but then I realized publicly humiliating them would be more emotionally satisfying."

He turned to look back at Harry who favoured the blonde with a smile. A real one.

For the first time Hermione genuinely hated Draco Malfoy.