PROMISES Chapter 5
"The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind."
Frederic Nietzsche
Chapter 5 : Human nature
It was the end of a school term, and Hogwarts' students were appearing discreetly from platform 9 3/4 with their parents. Some were excited, others seemed a bit sad, but most of them were cheerful to go back home. Then, there were a few who looked profoundly miserable, or even angry like this dark-haired girl walking next to an old man, who might be her grandfather. Hermione approached them just when the old man stopped walking and turned to the girl.
"I know you hate me, but if you have to spend your entire holiday at my house, and if I can't get your esteem, at least we can...I thought that it will be less unpleasant for us if we act courteously towards each other."
The girl seemed to mull the proposition over, and then started walking again without responding.
Somehow, this scene reminded Hermione of Draco and her. Indeed, it had occurred to the witch that easing their relationship would ease their collaboration. "We can't be friend, but at least we can act courteously to each other," was what she told him when she reached his house that evening.
Like the dark-haired girl, he didn't respond and walked out of the drawing room. Something was weird about him this morning, Hermione noticed. He seemed to not be able to look directly at her. She wondered if like her, he was feeling embarrassed about what happened last night. Little did she know, that Draco was persuaded that he had endeavoured to seduce her while he was drunk. Every time he tried to replay the events of the night, all he could see were her sleepy bright brown eyes glaring shyly at him.
When Draco walked back, he was carrying a pile of thick and heavy books. "I borrowed them from my parent's library." Hermione observed him as if he was carrying a mass of diamonds.
He took of the cursed book from the pile and handed it to her. She reached out for it, brushing his skin, and for the first time since the morning, they dared exchange a look. During few seconds which seemed like eternity, they tried to measure changes in each other. Hermione was suddenly struck by how he seemed more different than he had in school, more mature, more masculine, but also less uppity. His thin features and hateful looks had disappeared, however it was impossible for the young woman to read into his eyes.
Draco was the first to break contact. "I prefer to hate you because the contrary would be too complicated..." He said, taking a seat, and opening a book to definitely close the discussion.
Since the end of the war and the death of his father, Draco didn't know who he wanted to be anymore. Now at twenty three years old, not only did he have to fix himself, but he also had to handle someone he used to loath for half his life. Could they actually make a truce, wondered the boy. Could they repair a relation wronged by a thousand years of school houses rivalry, racism, and complexes of a megalomaniac? Could anything, anyone change? Did he change? He disliked this impression of not knowing himself anymore. He'd never thought that his life wasn't worth it, however, today he couldn't sleep at night because of all those little things which had happened and had proven that he had been wrong to choose this life.
Translating the entire book took them twelve days and twelve nights. While Draco scoured libraries and brought her dictionaries and books she needed, Hermione translated the cursed book in English as cautiously as possible, exerting herself on not reading any words out loud. A drawing of a dragon was covering the last page. It was a fat and hideous dragon, with a million fangs, rough red lips, and an extra-long snaked tongue.
The book was, indeed, composed of long instructions for summoning this dragon. The preamble referred to a horrible massacre of wizards ordered by the Roman Catholic Church during the twelfth century. Even some witches who were married to muggles had been betrayed by their own husbands. Survivors wanted to get revenge and called Melusine to help them. She promised to create an invincible dragon, provided that they all give their souls. The dragon was created and named Tarasque.
"Why did she need their souls?" Draco asked.
"I'm not sure, but it must be because of the invincibility of the creature. Their souls were sour and full of hatred..."
"But the dragon had been beaten, hadn't it?"
"Yes, by a descendant of Melusine."
"So, it wasn't that invincible."
"So, I must be wrong."
"Of course, you're wrong." Draco sneered. "Those witches needed her power. Melusine is a fairy. If she asked for their soul to animate the dragon, she had to use her own ancient magic to create it physically. And her descendant must be the only one able to destroy it, as they possess ancient magic, too."
"Hmm..." Hermione went pensive. "Perhaps, we need to find a magic power as ancient and powerful as Melusine's...But where? Even the woman who told me the book was in France, Eve, is an old common witch."
"We still can try. Who knows? Perhaps, all we need is a descendant of Melusine."
Hermione doubted it, but it didn't cost anything to try. "Okay, but what is she supposed to do? We don't even know how the descendant beat the beast."
"Good morning, Mrs. Scalecow. My name is Draco Mal-"
"I know who you are. How can I forget the face of an assassin?"
Draco was so flabbergasted that he forgot to close his mouth. The old woman could have stupefied him with her wand and it would have produced the same result. Outraged, Hermione was behind him, attending the downfall to their plan.
"You're his son, aren't you?" Eve Scalecow demanded with great contempt. Draco simply nodded. "Get off my doorstep, and never ever come back again."
"I apologies for any inconveniences, Mrs. Scalecow," replied the young man before leaving.
"Malfoy, wait! You can't let that women treat you like that. Where is your quick vicious repartee gone?" Hermione asked.
"I don't care. It's the same scene every day. Everybody treats me that way." Draco said nonchalantly.
He caught a glimpse over his shoulder to see that Eve was still standing at her front-door. She was looking at him strangely, probably thinking that he had lost his mind seen as he was speaking to no visible person in the street. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
Hermione didn't know what to say. For several minutes, they both stayed silent, until Draco spoke. "Say it, then. What are you waiting for?"
"Say what?"
"That I deserve it. That they're in their right to despise me as I despised everybody in Hogwarts."
"They have no right to behave like that. It shouldn't be this way; it shouldn't have turned this way." Hermione said empathetically. "Rejection, hatred and discrimination should have died with Voldemort."
"You're too idealistic Granger. It's human nature to be intolerant."
"No, it's a social comportment linked with fear of the unknown, of others."
"Once again, you're talking like you've swallowed an encyclopedia."
"Humans are born equal." Hermione followed on with conviction, ignoring his comment.
"Equal? What about squibs? Deaf and mute people? Muggles?" Draco questioned.
"We're all humans endowed with feelings and reason, that's the only thing that matters. Did the war teach you nothing?"
He paused before answering. The old Draco would have answered that humans are not equal, that purebloods are worth more than every human, that a mudblood like her can mime true wizards perfectly like she can, but she won't ever be his equal, no matter how many books she swallows.
"It taught me that genocide and terror are not the solution. That I'll never again let others choose for me. I learned that I prefer to live in peace among-I mean above- muggle-borns, instead of living in a world governed by an evil megalomaniac. And that if I can't help disliking you, at least I can respect you."
"I know you've changed your mind Malfoy. You just don't want to admit that you were wrong," with that she disappeared.
Weeks passed, unproductive. Draco's behaviour couldn't have been more strange: his sentences and gestures were sometimes awkward, his proud eyes were shifty when Hermione approached him too closely although she often caught him watching her out of the corner of his eyes. It was like he didn't know how to treat her anymore.