Hermione strolled the corridors, pleasantly engaged with her own thoughts. It was a perpetually stormy Sunday. Such weather was her favorite. Other grumbling students were stuck catching up on homework while they bemoaned the lack of sunlight. Hermione, on the other hand, could amble through endless hallways in virtual peace. Serves them right for putting it all off until the last minute. They’re lucky the weather offered no temptation today, she thought while taking in the rushing sound of a waterfall.
Everyone needed a time to feel free. Hermione’s free moments occurred in coincidence with great, bloated clouds letting loose their ponderous loads. She enjoyed the spray through windows that were opened to let in the gusty breezes. The very scent of wet stone sent her senses into a peaceful contentedness. She closed her eyes, and absorbed the sensory melody.
“Ouch! Hey! Watch where you’re going, you buck-toothed banshee!”
Her eyes flashed open immediately upon colliding with the side of another human being. It took her a moment to realize who the speaker was. Draco Malfoy had just turned a corner, having obviously been out in the rain. He sported drenched locks that reminded her of Crookshanks after he’d been thrown into the bath. His own robes clutched him as if they feared the wind would take them. This was no reason to pity him, however. She scowled at his cross words.
Once again, he had somehow managed to ruin the moment.
“For one, how could I have been expected to know you were sneaking around corners in the dark? Sure, you resemble a rat, but there’s no need to behave like one. Second, your insult could at least apply to me if you were going to send spittle with it!” She dragged the back of her hand across her cheek for emphasis and narrowed her eyes with pointed disgust.
Draco appeared to be surprised at such a retort. Apparently, he’d never been asked to work on his rudeness. He scoffed as he circled her. “And just what’s that supposed to mean. Oh,” he imitated a condescending pout. “Do you disagree, Miss Know-It-All?” he mocked in a condescending tone.
She made no attempt to follow him with her eyes. She stared straight ahead and crossed her arms. “As a matter of fact, yes. If I was a banshee, I would have shrieked to my heart’s desire years ago to rid the world of you. In case your brain has been addled, you should also know that my teeth are rather well-aligned; they have been since a certain incident in our fourth year.”
“It’s too bad the improvement in your teeth didn’t make you any better looking.” His lip curled as he came around her right side.
“Oh, did you want me to look better for you?” she asked sarcastically, her eyes wide with feigned innocence.
“Oh please. It would be your lucky day, Granger. I don’t associate with Mudbloods such as yourself. Not even the ones who look far more fetching than you- which is everyone, by the way. You’ve got the nastiest bush for hair and always play in the mud. One might think Mudbloods should at least look nice, as they have nothing else going for them.”
Hermione had heard the slur so often from Malfoy that it no longer fazed her very much. “If you had even two brain cells, you could use them to come up with a clever insult. It’s too bad, really.”
“- It’s not an insult. It’s just what you are,” he snorted, and stood directly in front of her.
“I don’t see why you insist upon shoving your misguided value system down every witch’s and wizard’s throat. Just because a few inbred, Neanderthal, idiotic Purebloods believe some silly thing, doesn’t make it true, nor does anyone need to listen.”
“It’s not mine, and it’s not misguided. Everyone thinks it when they look at you,” Draco purred. He leaned in just slightly; it was a nearly imperceptible attempt at intimidation. “Do you want to know what they say?” he whispered. “Hermione Granger blows her snot all over her books day after day, because she’s Muggle-born. She has no natural talent. She only wishes she were a real witch.”
She pushed a hand against his chest in a cold manner, distancing him from her just enough. “Someone should give you some literature on halitosis,” she replied with an apathetic air. It was true that it hurt her and the question nagged at her. Who would say those things about me? However, she would never allow herself to display weakness in front of the ferret.
“Malfoy.” The name slipped around her tongue like a sloth. “Your cronies’ half-witted, ignorant remarks have no bearing on my magical talent.”
“Let’s talk about ignorance . . .” he rumbled.
“You know enough about it for the both of us,” she stated, turned, and began walking with long, proud strides.
Malfoy rushed and cut her off, grabbing her arm roughly. She jerked her arm away, looking scandalized and incensed with her mouth agape.
“You’re not getting away that easily. You want to complain that I impose my value system on all wizard kind? The fact that you think my range of influence extends that far, I’ll take as a compliment,” he grinned nastily. “You impose your value system on house elves.” He flicked her shoulder in point.
“And how would you know about S.P.E.W.?” she snarled.
“You’ve been jangling those silly little badges around for ages. Did you think you wouldn’t be the subject of a few good jokes?”
Her mouth gaped open. Just as quickly, she snapped it shut, her eyes narrowing into fiery slits. “Your system brings people down. I’m emancipating-“
“- Creatures who don’t want freedom?” he smirked.
“They do want it! They’ve been drilled into believing otherwise!”
He rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. “My point, Muggle, is that you are a hypocrite.”
“I am not!” she shouted furiously. It was one thing to be called “Mudblood;” it was quite another to be accused of hypocrisy. It was a brooding, terrible trait. It was the real insult. “How dare you equate freedom with your sick version of segregation! I have a moral position.”
“Oh, and is it moral because you believe it?”
“N-no . . .”
“How can you tell what is moral and what isn’t, if all morality is based upon individual opinions? I can assure you, there are myriad opinions. What makes your version of ‘values’ superior? Hm?” He visibly gloated at his ability to make her squirm.
“It’s obvious! You try to make people believe that only pure-blood wizards are worthy; as if the thought of anyone else having powers is wrong!” she spat.
“And you try to make house elves believe that everything they believe and enjoy in their world is wrong. Pushing . . . imposing . . . It’s all wrong, right?”
“Not when it’s for their own good!”
Malfoy nodded, satisfied that he lead her straight into a corner. “And how do you know what’s best for everyone?”
“I . . . I . . .” It just felt silly to say that she ‘just knows’. That would be a terribly pompous answer. Her brow furrowed, and she stared through the tall Slytherin as she sought and rejected several retorts.
Malfoy only stared, awaiting her response with amusement clear in every line upon his face. His very presence sent her into a riled anger. They’d never actually verbally fought in this manner. The more she pondered the strangeness of the situation, the more flustered she became. It occurred to her that he’d never had a true, verbal argument with her. He usually regressed into childish reactions. Why the hell did he even bother her about this anyway? They’d always hated each other. What was the point, then, in hashing out the differences between right and wrong “ and the two were surely and clearly separate ideas.
The vibrating antagonism reached her extremities as she felt her fingers shaking in rhythm with her core. She was more angry than she could ever remember being. How dare he question my moral fiber?
She caught his eye. He was leering, of course; the self-obsessed brute. For a moment, nothing but cold silence passed between them. Then it gave way to something much more pervasive and sinister. She became less aware of the pounding rain, and the fact that she was quite chilled, or that it must be getting close to curfew. Something lurked and kissed the former silence. It giggled in her ear. Yes. I could. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
As Malfoy opened his mouth to release another demon, Hermione spat a growling shriek at him and stalked off, her robes fluttering behind her.
Devil's Advocate by AlexisTaylor
Chapter Notes: Author's Note: I thought it would be interesting to see Hermione's S.P.E.W. ranting from a different angle. There is an intended undercurrent here. If you can spot it, props to you. No, I do not support only pure-blooded wizards. I'm still on the trio's side.