Chapter Text
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting beneath a tree near the lake. It was an unexpected day off. The weather was beautiful.
Ron was eating something. Hermione was reading. Harry was lying on his back, watching clouds drift across the sky.
For once, everything was peaceful.
"Potter."
Harry closed his eyes. "Of course."
Dracena Malfoy stood nearby with Pansy Parkinson.
Harry sat up. "Malfoy."
Dracena smiled. "Enjoying your afternoon?"
"Was."
She looked at Hermione. "Still studying, Granger?"
Hermione glanced up. "Yes."
Dracena smiled sweetly. "How industrious."
Hermione returned to her book.
Dracena continued. "I suppose when one hasn't the benefit of generations of magical education, one must work terribly hard to compensate."
Hermione stopped reading.
Harry sat up straighter.
Ron scowled. "Oh, shut up, Malfoy."
Dracena looked at him. "Weasley."
Harry sighed. "Dracena."
She turned. "What?"
"Must you?"
Dracena frowned. "Must I what?"
"Be horrible?"
She looked offended. "I'm not being horrible."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"I'm merely observing that Granger has certain disadvantages."
Hermione slammed her book shut. "Such as?"
Dracena looked at her. "Your upbringing."
Hermione stared. "My upbringing?"
"Yes."
Hermione smiled thinly. "My parents are dentists."
Dracena blinked. "How charming."
"They're rather good at it."
"I'm sure."
Harry stood. "Dracena."
She looked at him.
He wasn't smiling. "What's wrong with Hermione's parents?"
Dracena frowned. "They're muggles.."
"Why does it matter?"
She sighed. "Potter, you wouldn't understand."
Harry folded his arms. "Try me."
Dracena lifted her chin. "Magical families have traditions."
Harry nodded. "Right."
"Histories."
"Right."
"Responsibilities."
Harry waited. Dracena continued.
"My family has preserved magical knowledge for centuries."
Harry considered. "That's nice."
Dracena frowned. "Nice?"
"Yeah."
She stared. "Potter, it's rather more than nice."
Harry shrugged. "All right."
Dracena looked exasperated.
"Some of the oldest magical families have spent generations preserving spells, artifacts, histories, and knowledge that would otherwise have been lost."
Harry nodded. "Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yeah."
Dracena stared.
Harry continued. "But what does any of that have to do with Hermione?"
Dracena opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Harry waited.
She frowned. "Because she doesn't have that."
Harry looked at Hermione, then back at Dracena.
"So?"
Dracena stared.
"She's still brilliant."
"Yes, but..."
"She's top of nearly every class."
"I know."
"She's better at Charms than I am."
Dracena looked annoyed. "Potter..."
"Better at Transfiguration."
"Yes..."
"Better at Potions."
Ron snorted.
Harry smiled faintly. "Much better at Potions."
Hermione tried not to laugh.
Harry turned back. "So what difference does it make?"
Dracena looked increasingly frustrated. "Because heritage matters!"
Harry shrugged. "Why?"
Dracena stared. "Why!?"
"Yeah."
She looked at him as though he'd asked why the sky was blue. "Because it does!"
Harry sighed. "That's not an answer."
Dracena went red. "Potter, you have absolutely no appreciation for tradition."
Harry folded his arms. "Maybe I don't."
Dracena blinked.
He continued. "Maybe I don't understand why a bunch of old families spend so much time congratulating themselves for having old ancestors."
Dracena's expression changed. Harry didn't notice. "Honestly, half the traditions I've heard about seem like excuses to treat people badly."
Dracena's face tightened. "That's not fair."
Harry shrugged. "Isn't it?"
"No.". She stepped closer. "Potter, you have no idea what you're talking about."
Harry looked at her. "Then explain it."
Dracena took a breath. "My family has spent centuries preserving magical knowledge."
Harry nodded. "You said."
"Some spells are dangerous."
"Right."
"Some artifacts are dangerous."
"Right."
"Some knowledge shouldn't simply be handed to anyone who asks."
Harry frowned. "Why not?"
"Because people can misuse it!"
Harry considered. "All right."
Dracena blinked.
"That's fair."
She looked surprised.
Harry smiled slightly. "But that still doesn't explain why Hermione's parents matter."
Dracena stared.
Harry continued. "She's not asking for dangerous spells."
"That's not the point!"
"Then what is?"
Dracena opened her mouth, but nothing came out again. She looked like her brain had skipped the tracks.
Harry waited.
She looked toward Hermione. Hermione was watching quietly.
Harry continued. "Why should Hermione's accomplishments count for less because her parents are Muggles?"
Dracena swallowed. "Because..."
Harry waited.
She tried again. "Because magical heritage..."
"Is important. I know."
He looked at her. "But why does that make Hermione less important?"
Dracena stared at him.
She was furious. Harry was always doing this. Always asking her questions to things she knew, but couldn't explain. Not that Potter would listen anyway. Or understand. That was infuriating.
Because Potter was standing there looking at her. Waiting.
...And she realized he was right. Again.
Dracena's face burned.
Then she remembered what he'd said about her family.
"A bunch of old families congratulating themselves for having old ancestors."
Her eyes stung. That wasn't what her family was! That wasn't what their traditions meant!
Father had shown her ancient books. Beautiful enchanted tapestries. Family records going back centuries. Things people had preserved through wars and disasters. Things that would have vanished if nobody had cared enough to keep them. And there was Potter dismissing all of it as though it were nothing.
As though her family were nothing.
Dracena looked at him.
Her voice was quiet. "You really don't understand."
Harry frowned. "Then tell me."
She swallowed. "I just did."
Harry sighed. "No. You told me your family has a history. You didn't tell me why that makes Hermione inferior."
Dracena's eyes filled. She blinked furiously. Harry noticed.
His expression softened. "Dracena..."
"Don't."
Harry stopped.
She lifted her chin. "You're an idiot, Potter."
Harry said nothing.
Dracena waited. Normally he'd say something back.
Something clever.
Something irritating.
Something that would let her laugh and forget how badly he'd hurt her.
But he didn't. He simply looked at her, and that was worse.
Much worse.
Dracena swallowed. "Well."
She straightened. "I suppose there's no point discussing this with someone who knows absolutely nothing about the wizarding world."
Harry looked at her. "Maybe."
She blinked.
"But I know Hermione."
Dracena stared at Harry
Harry smiled sadly. "And I think that matters more."
Dracena's face crumpled for just a moment.
Then she turned. "Come along, Pansy."
Pansy looked confused. "Dracena?"
"Now!" she shouted
They walked away. Dracena held herself perfectly straight. Her head high. Her shoulders back. Every inch the aristocratic young lady, until they turned the corner.
Then she ran.
"Wait!" Pansy yelled after her.
Harry watched Dracena disappear. He felt strangely miserable, but couldn't understand why.
Ron, however, looked delighted. "Well, that shut her up."
Harry said nothing.
Hermione looked at him. "Harry?"
He turned. "Yeah?"
She smiled. "Thank you."
Harry shrugged. "For what?"
"For defending me."
Harry looked surprised. "Of course."
Hermione smiled. "You didn't have to."
Harry frowned. "Yeah, I did."
She looked at him.
"I can't stand the way she talks about you."
Hermione nodded. "Neither can I."
Ron snorted. "She's horrible."
Harry sighed. "Yeah."
Hermione watched him, then smiled slightly. "But you still like her."
Harry froze. "What?"
Hermione's smile widened. "You do."
Harry went red. "I do not!"
Hermione grinned. "I still think she likes you, too."
Ron stared. "WHAT?"
Harry glared. "Hermione!"
She laughed.
Harry pointed at her. "Don't start!"
Ron looked horrified. "Harry!"
Harry turned. "What?"
"Malfoy?"
Harry covered his face. "Oh, for heaven's sake."
Ron stared. "Dracena Malfoy?"
Harry groaned.
Hermione laughed.
Ron looked as though he'd just discovered Harry had been secretly raising a dragon in his bed.
"Harry!"
Harry dropped his hands. "I DON'T LIKE HER!"
Hermione smiled sweetly. "Of course not."
Ron shook his head. "Blimey."
Harry stared at both of them, then sighed.
"You're both impossible."
Hermione laughed.
Ron grinned.
Harry sat down.
After a moment, he smiled too.
Because whatever else happened, he had Ron and Hermione.
Dracena Malfoy could not stop thinking about the argument she'd had with Harry Potter.
"Why should Hermione's accomplishments count for less because her parents are Muggles?"
It was an irritating question. An extraordinarily irritating question.
Mostly because Potter had asked it.
Because he was wrong. Wasn't he?
Obviously.
He simply didn't understand. He hadn't grown up surrounded by magic. He hadn't spent his childhood listening to stories about the great wizarding families, learning their histories, studying the spells and traditions they'd preserved for centuries.
He didn't understand what it meant to be a Malfoy. He'd dismissed all of it as a bunch of old people congratulating themselves for having old ancestors.
Dracena still felt a little sting whenever she remembered that.
Still, the question scratched around in her head, like a pebble in her shoe.
"Why should Hermione's accomplishments count for less?"
Dracena tried to ignore it, but she couldn't.
So she began watching Hermione Granger. At first, she told herself she was looking for mistakes. For evidence that Granger wasn't quite as clever as everyone believed.
Surely there was something. Some weakness. Some gap in her ability. Some indication that generations of magical education really did matter.
In Charms, Hermione performed spells with extraordinary precision.
In Transfiguration, she mastered difficult transformations before almost anyone else.
In Potions, she understood concepts Dracena had been taught since childhood. That was particularly irritating. Dracena had grown up surrounded by magic. She'd had private tutors. An enormous family library. Parents who could answer her questions. People who'd been teaching her about the wizarding world since before she was old enough to hold a wand.
Granger had none of those things. Her parents were dentists, for heaven's sake. Dentists. Dracena wasn't entirely certain what dentists did, although she understood it involved Muggles' teeth.
And yet somehow their daughter was among the best students at Hogwarts.
It was ridiculous. It was infuriating. Dracena was beginning to suspect, it was also rather extraordinary.
One afternoon, during Charms, Professor Flitwick posed a particularly difficult question about the limitations of permanent enchantments.
Dracena knew the answer, or at least, most of it. She'd read about the subject in one of Father's books. She raised her hand.
So did Hermione. Flitwick called on Hermione.
Of course he did.
Hermione answered. And she kept answering.
Dracena slowly lowered her hand, because Hermione hadn't merely given the correct answer. She'd explained the underlying magical principles, identified two important exceptions, and even mentioned an obscure historical example Dracena had never heard of.
Flitwick positively beamed. "Excellent, Miss Granger! Absolutely excellent! Five points to Gryffindor!"
Hermione smiled. Dracena stared at her.
Oh, for Merlin's sake.
Beside her, Pansy Parkinson made a disgusted noise. "That stupid Mudblood."
Dracena glanced at her. Pansy scowled. "Honestly. Flitwick practically falls over himself giving her points."
Dracena looked toward the front of the classroom. Flitwick had already moved on to another student.
She frowned. Had he favored Hermione? He'd asked a question. Hermione had answered it. Correctly. Rather brilliantly, in fact. Five points seemed perfectly reasonable.
Dracena looked back at Pansy. "I don't think he was favoring her."
Pansy blinked. "What?"
"Flitwick. She answered the question."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Oh, honestly, Dracena."
She leaned closer. "Of course she did. She's always got her hand up, hasn't she? Desperate to prove she's just as good as the rest of us."
Dracena looked toward Hermione. She was writing something in her notes. Harry leaned over and whispered something to her. Hermione smiled, then she whispered something back.
Harry laughed.
Dracena frowned. Stupid Potter.
Pansy continued her tirade. "It's embarrassing, really. All that showing off. You'd think someone would tell her that no matter how many books she reads, she's still just a..."
"Mudblood." Dracena finished quietly.
Pansy smiled. "Exactly."
Dracena looked at Hermione again. She thought about the question. The answer. The five points.
All the things Hermione Granger had accomplished without the advantages Dracena had enjoyed her entire life.
For the first time, the word sounded rather ugly. Father used it occasionally. So did some of his friends. It was simply something people said. But now, sitting beside Pansy, listening to her use it to explain away an accomplishment neither of them could honestly criticize, Dracena found herself strangely uncomfortable.
It hadn't made Hermione's answer any less brilliant. It hadn't made Flitwick's praise any less deserved. It hadn't explained anything at all. It was just a nasty little word to throw at someone when you had nothing better to say.
Dracena looked down at her notes.
She thought of Father. Of the Malfoy family library. Of the ancient books and spells and histories she'd been taught to treasure.
She was proud of those things. She would always be proud of them. But she'd never thought that being a Malfoy meant she ought to resent someone else for being clever.
Quite the opposite. Father had always insisted that excellence was something to be admired.
Hermione Granger, irritating though she was, was undeniably excellent.
Dracena frowned. Well, that's inconvenient.
Three rows ahead, Harry Potter was laughing at something Ron Weasley had whispered. Dracena glared at the back of his head. "Stupid Potter." she said to herself.
Somehow, once again, Harry Potter had managed to make her question something she'd never thought to question before. The worst part was that he wasn't even near her to argue with.
Pansy was still talking. "...and honestly, I don't know why they even let people like that into Hogwarts. My father says standards have been slipping for years. It's no wonder when they keep admitting every little Mudblood who..."
"Pansy?"
Pansy turned. "Yes?"
Dracena looked at her. "Do shut up."
Pansy stared. "What?"
Dracena returned to her notes. "You heard me."
Pansy's mouth fell open. "Dracena!"
"Honestly, Pansy. You're giving me a headache."
Pansy looked scandalized. "I was only saying..."
"I know what you were saying." Dracena dipped her quill into the ink. "That's the problem."
Pansy stared at her. For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Pansy huffed and turned away.
Dracena continued writing.
Granger.
She paused, then continued taking notes.