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Knowing It All	By : Jennlee Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 11567 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7 - Needing To Know
Day turned into night and Hermione dozed on and off. Mrs. Weasley brought meals, which she watched Hermione eat hungrily, and tried to convince the young woman to let Ron and Harry visit. Hermione refused anyone but Mrs. Weasley and the mediwizard who came by the following afternoon.
The mediwizard had treated her shortly after she had arrived at the Weasleys, although being unconscious at the time she had no memory of it. Blustery and confident, the Scottish wizard had a bold manner that made Hermione nervous. Since she had awoken, she had a constant feeling of tautness - like she was on edge and at any moment something might give. She startled at small noises and cringed when footsteps passed by her door. She wondered if she would ever even begin to feel normal again.
Her rib fractures had now completely healed, thanks to the bone-repairing spell the mediwizard had cast during his first call. He renewed the anti-swelling spells on her face and she was relieved to feel the puffiness around her eye start to subside. The bruises would take longer, he explained; they would have to heal naturally over time. He pulled out a small vial of bright red potion to drink. It tasted awful. Hermione asked what it was for. The wizard huffed into his long beard, telling her she didn't need to concern herself. She pressed him until he admitted it was a "morning after' potion.
After the mediwizard left, Hermione thought about the potion. She hadn't even considered that possibility - as horrible as it was.
That night after dinner, Mrs. Weasley sat with Hermione. It felt good. A little bit normal. They talked about small things - Ginny's visit to Romania to see Charlie, Ron's new Quidditch broom, the old Muggle lawn tractor that Arthur Weasley had bought.
Thankfully, Mrs. Weasley seemed to sense that Hermione wasn't ready to talk about her experiences. Only once did Mrs. Weasley mention it specifically. "Hermione, dear. If there's anything I can do to help you" I'm a woman and I have some understanding of what you must have gone through. It could help to talk about it—"
Hermione only started crying in response, her face going pale.
"There, there, dear. It's all right. You don't have to talk about anything before you're ready to." Mrs. Weasley's voice was so reassuring. It reminded Hermione of her mother and with a sigh, she realized again that her own mother would never again reassure her - never again advise her - never again just be there for her. It had been a thought she had been trying to push away and ignore. If she just pretended to herself that she was here visiting and her parents were at home safe and sound it wouldn't hurt so much. She was doing her best but small things continued to remind her of her loss.
"I'll be here whenever you need me. Goodnight dear. Get some sleep - things will look better in the morning." Mrs. Weasley patted her hand and got up to leave. At the door she turned back, "Oh, Hermione, won't you see Ron and Harry? They're driving me to distraction."
Hermione thought about it. Thinking of Ron had helped get her through the horrendous experiences at the hands of Lucius Malfoy. She remembered how she felt when she thought of Ron. When she thought that maybe her love for him was real. It had felt good - like an enormous question that had finally been answered or a mystery that had finally been solved. She thought maybe it was that thought - that realization - that helped keep her going in that awful place. But if that was so shouldn't she should want to see Ron right now? Whenever she imagined actually seeing him she felt ashamed and frightened. What would he think of her?
Hermione thought back over her past relationship with Ron and how she had been considering taking it to the next level. She had wanted Ron to be her first when they were ready. She would be his as well, she knew. Now that would never be. Would Ron even want her now? After what had happened to her? Would she want him in that way? Her whole body still ached from the rampage of Lucius Malfoy. She wasn't sure she could ever get over that experience. It might not be fair to tie Ron to her while she was in this damaged state. Why should he have to suffer for her? She didn't want him to hurt.
There was Harry to consider as well. They had all been friends for so long. Would that change? Hermione had always been strong, smart, and independent. Now she was a quivering mass of jelly, she thought disgustedly, afraid of a knock at the door or a shadow on the wall. What would Harry and Ron think? Would they see her as a helpless victim? She didn't want that— didn't want them to see her like that— didn't want to actually be that. Could she ever get back to where she was? She wondered.
The biggest problem, Hermione decided, was that she didn't know what had been going on. Didn't know what they knew, what they thought, what they expected from her.
Mrs. Weasley still waited for Hermione's answer about seeing Ron and Harry. Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I just can't see them yet."
Mrs. Weasley looked disappointed but nodded resignedly. "Its all right, Dear. You take all the time you need."
A sudden question popped into Hermione's brain. "Mrs. Weasley? Is Draco Malfoy still here?"
Mrs. Weasley looked surprised and a little disapproving. "Why, yes he is. Arthur thinks it isn't safe for him to go. After his disloyalty to his —" Hermione shuddered slightly at the mention of Lucius Malfoy. Mrs. Weasley continued. "He's staying in Percy's old room."
"Can I see him?" Hermione wasn't sure why she wanted to see Draco, but she did.
"You—You want to see Draco Malfoy?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
Hermione nodded. "Would it be all right?"
"Whatever you want, dear." Mrs. Weasley sighed, eyebrows raised. She got up and left the room.
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Mrs. Weasley and Draco Malfoy entered.
They approached the bed where she lay. Draco looked uncomfortable and Mrs. Weasley looked sad and slightly disapproving. There was a long, awkward silence. Finally, Draco said, "How are you Gra- Hermione?"
"Can I have some time alone with Draco, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked.
After Mrs. Weasley left, Draco continued to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. "Please sit down, Draco." Hermione said. He moved to the chair near her bed and sat. She looked into his eyes, once again feeling a little sickened by their similarity to his father's.
"Thank you." She said simply after several moments of silence.
Draco looked confused.
"For saving me?" Hermione said.
Draco nodded. They sat in awkward silence again.
"I know that it probably cost you your family." Hermione said. She had this burning desire to know why - why she had been saved. Why had Draco chosen her over the life he had always known and a father that he had always loved? Who was this person who had tormented her for six years with threats to now save her life?
Draco grunted in an noncommittal manner.
Hermione sat up, wincing from her still aching muscles and her endless supply of bruises. The pain suppressant spell the medwizard had done had worn off earlier. Draco stiffly helped her rearrange the pillows and she settled down, propped up against the headboard and pillows. She looked him closely in the eye. "Talk to me, Draco. I need to know what happened."
"Why?" The Malfoy boy's face twisted into his familiar sneer. "Why do you have to "know' everything Granger? Its one of the things I've so hated you for all these years."
Hermione flinched as if she had been struck, eyes wide. The look in Draco's eyes was cold and contemptuous - she knew that look well from years of run-ins with him at Hogwarts. She didn't know what she had expected from this conversation, but certainly not this.
He must have noticed her reaction because he sighed and the sneer left his face. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I'm frustrated. I can't go home - my father would have me killed. I'm stuck here with these Weasleys." His voice wasn't quite as contemptuous. "With these people that hate me. When I look at you I am reminded of the fact that I've betrayed my father, my family, and everything I've been taught my whole life."
Hermione told herself she couldn't feel sorry for Draco. How could she, after what he put her through and what she had suffered at the hands of his father. She owed him her life, she knew, but that didn't mean she was going to lick his boots.
"Draco, what's happening. What does everyone know? Did you tell everything?"
Draco looked thoughtful for a moment then shrugged nonchalantly. "I told what I knew - that the Death Eaters had brought you to the manor. That I found you in the dungeon where you were being beaten and raped and would probably be killed. That I brought you here. Not much else to tell." Draco seemed very nonplussed about the whole thing, Hermione noticed as he continued. "Mr. Weasley went off to the ministry, and they raided the manor. My parents fled and haven't been seen since - Father's probably at the Dark Lord's side by now. There's no way he can keep up his pretence of being an upstanding citizen anymore."
He continued, "Aurors have put extra wards on this house to protect you. I've been told I can stay here until school starts and after that I'm told I will be safe at Hogwarts." This last line oozed the sarcasm that Malfoy was known for.
Hermione considered this. Draco had given up his family, his friends, his life, to save her. He must have known the consequences. "Why did you do it? You could have simply left me there and forgot about it. Why did you rescue me?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "There you go again, Granger, wanting to know everything. Well, I suppose I do owe you some kind of an explanation, The truth is, Granger, I did it for a multitude of reasons, only some of which actually even involve you." The blond boy leaned back in his chair and folded one leg over the other, his ankle resting on his knee. His voice was unemotional, deadpan, as if he was trying to keep from reacting to what he was saying.
"I knew something was going on in the dungeons - overheard my father and some of the Death Eaters laughing about it. I felt left out - a child left behind while the adults have their fun. My father has been grooming me for years to go into service to Voldemort, but he still thinks I'm a child - still tells me to run along when he and his kind get together." His voice changed a bit as more emotion crept in. "Toddle along, Draco while the big boys play.' Well, I decided that I'd had enough. I wanted to know. I wanted to be part of it." He started to chuckle a bit. It was a horrible sound. Hermione cringed and looked at him warily.
The laughing stopped abruptly and Draco let out a sigh. "For many years I knew my place in the world - knew where I belonged. My future was predestined - my place at my father's side, serving Lord Voldemort. Becoming a Death Eater."
Malfoy looked haughty. "That night I decided to go to the dungeon and have a look. I resolved that my father wouldn't be able to leave me out anymore. I'm almost a fully qualified wizard. He has no right to treat me as a child."
"I don't know what I expected," he said, shifting in his seat. "I knew they were probably plotting activities for Voldemort or torturing Muggles - I'm not so naïve to think it was a tea party or something. Then when I opened that door and saw you—" His voice got louder and his tone more sneering. "You, the little know-it-all brat that's always upstaging me... Hermione Granger - teacher's pet, Mudblood, and best friend of Harry—" Hermione was holding her breath as Draco spoke these horrible words.
Draco leaned in closer, his voice lowering. Hermione pulled away from him. "Do you know for a moment I almost reveled in it? The arrogant Granger cut down to size - taught a lesson that she's a nothing - a nobody. She's finally been put in her place."
"Oh, my father was angry at me. I could tell it, the way he sent me out. Sent out like a child. I was furious that my father could do this to me - especially in front of you. It was humiliating. I wanted to stay, to be part of the Death Eaters and gain my father's favor. I wanted to see you squirm - learn your lessons for crossing me and my family. I imagined laughing as you knelt at my feet, begging for your life."
Draco leaned back now - perhaps he could see the fear in Hermione's eyes. "And then you did. Begged me, that is. You were there, naked and filthy, bruised, beaten... You begged me to help you. Your eyes showed your pain and desperation. It was my fantasy come to life. I turned my back on you and could hear you crying, being dragged back to the dungeon. It felt good. All those times I imagined you or Potter or Weasley getting your comeuppance had coming down to that very moment." Draco's breathing was growing more rapid and his eyes glittered malevolently.
Hermione listened to this, her mouth open in astonishment and fear. "Draco -" she started.
"No," he interrupted her. "You wanted to hear it, Granger, and you're going to hear it. I went up to my room and thought about you. But I couldn't contain myself for long - I had to come back and see what was happening. I crept back to the dungeon quietly. For a moment I was excited - thrilled really."
Draco continued, a frightening excitement in his voice. "I heard that speech my father gave you - heard him mention me and suddenly I realized that I was the reason you were there. If you hadn't known me - hadn't gotten in my way... I should have felt ecstatic at being the cause of your downfall."
He paused for a moment and then shook his head. "But I didn't. I only felt sick. I was disgusted with myself for feeling that way, but I couldn't help it. And then when my father was on top of you, raping you, and you looked at me—I suddenly knew it was all my fault. It may as well have been me doing that to you. I was the one who put you there. I was the one."
"I hated you, Granger. I hated you for being less than I was - a Muggle Born - a Mudblood. When my father would hold my inadequacies up to my face but I always had excuses - the teachers favored you, Harry Potter was a celebrity, Weasley's father was in the Ministry. It was easy. It was what I knew. I've complained about you to him countless times and his hatred of impure blood shifted his anger from me."
"I looked at my father - saw him grunting like a pig, raping a woman young enough to be his own child. He always hated Mudbloods - said they were the bane of the Wizarding world. Said they were filthy and Wizards of family and substance shouldn't associate with them. And here he was having sex with one? I saw him for the hypocrite he is. I saw them all for what they were—the Death Eaters, Lord Voldemort, I suddenly knew that I didn't want my life to end up this way. I didn't want to be torturing and raping innocent girls or killing Muggles."
"I looked at you... I saw you in a different light. You weren't that uppity Mudblood witch who I imagined beat me at school just to rub my nose in it. You weren't that stuck up girl who hung around with Harry Potter - the boy who had fame and the adoration of everyone at my expense. You were someone else. Someone who I've known for six years. Someone who has studied and worked hard and is a very brilliant witch, despite her birth. Someone who is loyal to her friends without fault. And I saw someone who was able to beg for my help - despite the way've treated her all these years."
"I've been a fool. I didn't fully realize the costs for predestined path. I suddenly knew I couldn't follow in my father's footsteps. Didn't want to be serving Voldmort. Didn't want to kill people who committed no crime other than being undesirable."
"I think it had been a long time coming. I've been lying to myself for a while now - because there was no way out. But at that moment I knew I had to get out. But how? My father is a very powerful man. I knew he would never let me go, never tolerate disloyalty."
He stopped for a moment and looked at Hermione closely, a slight grin tugged at his mouth. "And then it came to me."
"You, Hermione Granger, best friend of Potter and the Weasleys. Saving you could buy me protection. On my own who'd believe I had changed allegiances? But rescuing you at the expense of what I've known - what I've lived all these years - that buys me respect and possibly even forgiveness. Saving you also meant my father would be out of the picture - either in Azkaban or on the run from the Aurors. It would be better for me if he were caught, of course. He'll kill me if he can."
He chuckled quietly, almost to himself. "It was an ingenious plan, really. I wanted out. And I needed to get my father out of the way. I needed protection. You have a lot of powerful friends, Granger. I could let them do my work for me." His Slytherin arrogance showed plainly on his face. "I buy all these things with the small price of saving your life. A very small price, if I think about it." Hermione shuddered.
After a few moments Draco sighed resolvedly, almost as an afterthought. "And, of course I no longer wanted you to die. No longer thought you deserved what the Death Eaters and my father were doing to you. The few pangs of conscience I did have were assuaged by deciding to save you."
"So, Granger," Malfoy said, "It is true that I saved you in part because I didn't like what was happening and I felt responsible for it. But mostly it was to save myself. To buy my way out of a predestined future."
He looked hard into her eyes. "Its who I am. We both have to live with that." Hermione couldn't turn away and couldn't find any words for this strange boy.
Malfoy got up and left. Hermione felt shaken and thought for a long time about what Draco had told her. She thought about it until her head hurt. Draco was still Draco, she realized. The perfect Slytherin, using her to advance his ends. But not quite the perfect Slytherin, she realized. He no longer wanted to serve Voldemort - no longer wanted to be a Death Eater. And she had to admit that he had saved her life.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Knowing It All