Dark Times for Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter wore a constant frown these days: Dumbledore's task given to him concerning Slughorn and the memory. Voldemort. Draco. Hermione. Ron and Lavender. His homework. And now this: Neville had gone off in a hurry as he had received word from St. Mungo's hospital about his parents. He hadn't bothered packing. He'd been shaking as he'd changed out of school uniform into everyday wear, and all he'd managed to tell his room-mates, including Harry, was that he had to go to the hospital. Something had happened to his parents, that the demon ward had gone off. But Neville had had more information than he'd cared to share with his friends.

«Do you believe in miracles?» he'd asked Harry shortly before he'd left.


A day passed. Harry Potter watched Hermione and Lavender exchange a hailstorm of bad-mannered words at each other. They were standing at the doorway of the Great Hall, and Lavender successfully managed to bring Hermione to tears. Turning, Hermione walked straight into Draco Malfoy who had his nose buried in some book; Oh yes, Advanced Potion Making, and he never saw her until the impact. Harry held his breath as he saw Draco look at Hermione, discovering her tears, then to Lavender who had contempt written all over her face before she promptly turned about and walked back to where Ron was trying make himself invisible. Hermione said hello to Draco, her voice choked with tears. Harry watched him flick the book. It immediately transformed itself to a large bouquet with red roses, and Draco looked just as shocked as Hermione did, obviously surprised to find he could do that. His surprised expression made her laugh, and upon accepting them, she turned her head casually to eye an envious Lavender who, in turn, turned to Ron looking expectantly at him, her hands crossed over her chest. Failing to take the hint, Ron had eyes only for the roses, currently in the hands of Hermione. A vicious gaze darted from the flowes, to Draco and then to Hermione's beaming 'look-what-he-did-so-much-better-than-thou' look before she turned to face Draco again. Draco smiled shyly at her, and reached out to carefully wipe a tear away from her cheek. He then left her to find himself a seat. He was late for dinner, and for once he felt hungry. He rubbed his face in his palms before loading his plate half full with food. In his own little world, he did not see the admiring looks from the remaining female students, and Hermione enjoyed attention as well, as her room mates gasped and swooned over the large bouquet of roses, listening to the fantastic story of Draco's chivalry. The giggling from the pack of girls surrounding Hermione was at best unnerving for every boy who passed them, and most of them unconsciously avoided them by keeping to the
opposite wall as they passed.

Harry sat down on the opposite end of the table where Draco was sitting. Propping one elbow up on the table, he rested his chin against the back of his hand, looking at Draco eating.

“Hello Potter” Draco said, flashing him a modest smile. Being stared at by the green-eyed Gryffindor made him uncomfortable, and he wondered if he'd done something wrong.

“Well, you've done it now!” Harry said directly, smiling back at the blond.

“Done what?” Draco put his fork down nervously.

“You've got every girl in the great hall swooning over you and your 'roses out of the book'-trick. Nice. You'll have to teach me one day.”
“Well, it just sort of happened...!” Draco replied ashamed of himself. Glancing about quickly, he realised that Harry was right. They were staring at him. He felt his cheeks burn with disgrace.

“You certainly cheered Hermione up, though. She needs it. Lavender's been at her all day. Apparently they had some sort of fight in the dorm last night.”

“So you don't mind then? That I gave her flowers?”

“Of course not. I just don't want to see her hurt, is all.”

“Neither do I” replied Draco. He expected Harry to leave, but he continued to stay seated. The unwanted attention made Draco lose his appetite. Harry made him uncomfortable.
“So, you want to go for a walk or something?” Harry suggested.

“Looking up at the Gryffindor, Draco answered: “Yeah, sure.”

Twenty minutes later, Draco found himself standing outside the main door of Hogwarts, gazing at the courtyard before him. Potter arrived shortly afterwards, dressed in a thick winter coat and a Gryffindor scarf. They started off slowly and in silence, and they continued down the path towards Hogsmeade. As the road stretched out before them, Draco thought about his wand. He'd left it behind in his room.

“So? How are you holding up?” Harry finally said after torturous long minutes of silence.

“I'm not sure” Draco replied quietly. He had realised this was probably the moment where he should be apologizing to Harry. “What I meant was, it would mean much to me if you would accept my apology. I have been rather mean to you over the years, and I regret that now.”

“Do you have any idea how weird it is to hear you say that? Never the less, I accept your apology.”

“I wanted to apologize, face to face” Draco said. He had stopped, and was forcing himself to look at Harry the entire time. For a long time, the two boys stood and simply watched each other. The moon was bathing the snowy fields and forests in pale blue light, illuminating Draco's white-blond hair. Harry thought he looked ethereal against the sparkling black of the lake in the background. “There are things I need to tell you. The past is one thing. I cannot make up for that other than doing my best to try to be your friend, should you accept my friendship. But I will not ask that of you. I understand if you'd rather ignore me. When it comes to the dark lord, I fear my hands are tied at the moment. I only know that Melchior doesn't hold Lord Voldemort in in high regard at all. He laughs at him. But last night, he told me that he had seen a future with you, me and Voldemort in it. And that I had been holding a Demon's Bane, whatever that is. And that the walls of Hogwarts had been covered in blood. Melchior was rather vague about it” Draco said. Harry was staring at him with a frown, and Draco felt embarrassed. Potter was probably not believing a word the Slytherin was saying. It didn't matter. Draco had offered him his apologies, and Potter had accepted. There was so much more he wanted to say to Potter, but seeing how the Gryffindor went all sombre all silent when Draco mentioned Voldemort, made the blond shut up.

“Did he say when?” Potter wanted to know. “Did he say when this would happen?”

“No” Draco replied quietly, racing his gaze to meet Potter's green eyes. “Like I said, he's very vague about things” Draco said, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck.

“Do you think” Harry began, “uhm, do you think there's any chance he'll – that he could – take out Voldemort?” Harry said, obviously uncomfortable. Had it been a year ago, he'd never believe he'd be standing there, asking Malfoy for a favour. “I honestly don't see why he's playing with guys like you, when there's bigger fish out there to catch, like Voldemort?”

“It's a damn good question, Potter, I hadn't thought about that. I'll see if can't ask him that, next time he comes around.”

“You're on speaking terms?”

“Uhm, it's more of an one way communication at the moment.” They'd started walking again. “It's like..., I mean, when he comes it's like my brains turn to porridge and I can't think clearly, let alone come up with anything intelligent to say unless he of course provokes me, like last night, about Hermione...!” Draco bit his lip. Shit. He shouldn't have said that. Harry turned to face him. They both stopped again.

“What about Hermione?” Harry was building up a threatening expression of face.

“You see, he” Draco sighed, “he keeps finding new ways to torment me. And – and first it was Snape, and now it's Hermione. Miss Granger. It's like, every time something good happens to me, he takes it and he twists it into something evil and morbid. And hiding anything from him is impossible. So he has discovered my feelings for Hermione! And he wants me to …. to..., but I can't. I won't do it! Not to her!” Malfoy exclaimed.

“I'm not sure I want to hear the rest of this, but I have to know. What is it that you don't want to do to her?” Harry said, wrapping his arms around his waist to ward the cold away.

“Melchior wants me to – to have her” Draco said, shutting his eyes tight, disgusted at himself. He sighed, daring a glance in Potter's direction. “I wish you would just kill me, Harry. Melchior says I can live for years provided I dance after his tune. If I am a good boy and do his bidding!” Draco sobbed. “It's a test, though, just another test to see how far he can push me before I crack. Honestly, Potter, by all that it holy, I swear I don't want to harm her!” Draco swallowed, fighting the lump in his throat. “Please” Draco exclaimed, falling to his knees in front of Harry, “just put me out of my misery, please!”
The last 'please' lingered in the nocturnal air. Gryffindor and Slytherin looked at one another, the latter still kneeling in the snow. Harry wasn't sure why he produced his wand, but he never the less took it and pointed it at Malfoy's forehead. Harry was about to say something as a winged shadow emerged from the transparent half-dark of the nearby forest. Melchior stepped out of the shadows and onto the pristine, diamond-like snow with his long-sword drawn, aiming it at Harry.
“No!” Draco cried in terror as he realised that Melchior was aiming at Potter.

“Silence!” Melchior thundered. He did not seem pleased. “Harry Potter! I am here to answer your challenge.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed. “What challenge? I never challenged you!”

“You're aiming a wand at my slave's head. You are challenging me for the right to Malfoy's body.”

“What? No, I'm not!” Harry cried, shaking his head furiously, withdrawing his wand and hiding it quickly inside his jacket.

“The answer is yes, you may.” And as suddenly as Melchior had appeared, he vanished, leaving Potter and Malfoy to themselves in the snow. Harry turned to look at Draco who was still on his knees. Harry closed his jaw and sighed. “I'm beginning to see what you're up against, Draco. He's impossible to deal with!” Harry reached out his hand to Draco. “Come on, then. You'll catch your death if you stay down there in the snow.” Draco took his hand, and Harry pulled him back onto his feet. Draco wanted to embrace him, but fought down the impulse. Potter was close now, so close Draco could smell his cologne. Putting one hand on each shoulder, Harry looked into the Slytherin's grey eyes, and said: “You have to fight him. Don't let him get to you. You're doing the right thing here, Draco. No matter what happens, hold on to that. Don't make him make you hurt her. Stay in control!” Harry was almost shaking Draco. Draco was dead serious, and he only nodded in return. Draco reached up to cup Harry's face in his hands. Those green eyes seemed almost to glow at him, and there was no denying the prickling sensation in his pants. Never before had he touched Harry with such tenderness. Never before had he touched Harry other than to hurt him. Period.

“What about you?” The Slytherin asked quietly. He could see instantly that'd he'd hit Harry's weak spot.

“I'll be fine” Harry said, clenching his jaws. He did not look at Draco when he said it. And a determined, stern mask replaced the concern he'd shown for Draco just moments ago.

“We've been enemies so long Potter, that I don't know anything else. But I want to redeem myself. I've treated you like shit, and now I only want to make up for it. I wish there was some way for me to help you.”

“You're helping just by staying clear off Hermione. So I won't have to worry about her too. And you're helping if you have any information concerning Voldemort. And believe me, it helps just to know you want to help. I need all the allies I can get on this one, Draco. You may think you have no future, but you're not alone. All I see in my future, is Voldemort, and I can't say I see myself surviving that confrontation.” Draco nodded, and removed his hands from Harry's face, subduing the impulse to kiss him. Why did those lips seem so inviting? What was wrong with him? Draco thought. It was as if Potter had changed somehow. Like he'd adopted some kind of alluring aura.

It felt good to know he had something in common with Harry: They both had the uncertain futures strongly coloured by impending death. They both wanted to protect Hermione. In a not too distant future lurked Voldemort, and then there were the everyday worries about school and exams.

“We should have a one-on-one game of Quidditch one day. I'll let you beat the crap out of me, how about that?” Harry suddenly said, trying to sound cheerful. Draco smiled to himself. They were heading back to Hogwarts, seeing how the cold was getting too much to bear. “It's you who should be having the privilege, considering how I broke your nose at the start of the term. I was being a complete twat.”

“I will not argue with you on that point” Harry replied with a grin. Entering the hallway, they made as to part, but Harry hesitated as he saw Draco start down the stairs to the corridor where his room was. “Is that where you live? Down there? Could I see your room?” Not waiting for Draco to reply, Harry rushed after him. Silently, Draco allowed him to tag along down the spiralling staircase and through the corridor.

“Over there's Snape's personal quarters and office, and here's my room” Draco said, gesturing towards his door. Opening the door with his key, he opened it and entered. Harry remained by the doorway for a moment, peering into the darkness. Draco flicked his wand and the candles on his desk immediately lit up, adding warmth to the room. Only then did Harry enter. The Gryffindor shuddered involuntarily. “Well, it's not much but at least I have it to myself. Snape was gracious enough to –!”

“ – they've hidden you away. So everyone can forget about you.”

“It's best that way, don't you think? I'm not exactly in a position to bargain for something better, I'd say.”

“Even the cupboard at the Dursley's was cosier than this. It's a storage room!”

“So is a cupboard” Draco objected. “I consider myself lucky for still being able to attend Hogwarts. Dumbledore's been very kind to me, and I don't want make a fuss. He pulled a lot of strings at the Ministery and he dealt with a lot of angry parents. I – I don't want to give him any more trouble by setting demands I have no right to be setting. Well, I shall be going to bed now, so if you don't mind leaving?”

“Of course” Harry replied. But he didn't leave. “Does he still come to you every night? Is he coming tonight?”

“Yeah he is.” Draco replied, feeling slightly embarrassed at the subject and what it implied Draco would be doing.

“I wish I could do something to help” Harry said, looking up at him. Draco smiled in return.

“Thank you. But I wouldn't want to implicate you in something I can hardly control myself. I'll be fine” Draco lied. He watched Harry turn towards the doorway. The Gryffindor nodded, and then left.

Three A.M.
His senses were alert at once, but Draco didn't move. He didn't have to look at his watch to know it was three o'clock in the morning. And he did not turn his head to gaze at the winged creature who currently had materialized into being from pure darkness. He waited, but no words came. He felt the bedspread being pulled away, and he shuddered at the touch of the chill air against his naked thighs. He could see Melchior's faint outline against the dark of the room. The eudaimon lingered by the foot of the bed, and Draco could hear the faint brush of feathers through the air as Melchior settled his wings behind his back. Draco's heart began to race as Melchior climbed onto the end of the bed, resting one hand on Draco's left ankle. But the eudaimon seemed to change his mind, and instead he slid off the bed and came to stand. He was unnervingly gentle as he began to move Draco's limb, organizing the Slytherin into a desired position. Draco fought his fears, battling the urge to cry out and flail about in self-defence against his rapist. Instead, he forced himself to remain calm, to focus on breathing and to get his body to do as Melchior guided him to do. His heart racing, Draco got on his feet, feeling the cold floor beneath his toes. He was standing with his back against Melchior, facing the wall, and he didn't object as Melchior's hands gently pressed on his back in order to make him bend over. Draco obeyed, bracing himself. Moments after, he gripped the sheets on his bed tight as he was penetrated.

Breathing hard at the sudden and unwanted intrusion, Draco grit his teeth, willing away the voice in the back of his head which told him he wanted no part in this. He knew there were other emotions to be had. Emotions like lust. And desire. Draco had to learn how to like this. He just had to! Touching himself, he closed his eyes and focused on the good feelings. There weren't many. He was tired and cold, and dreading that each minute, Melchior would say something hurtful. He inhaled sharply through his nose as the eudaimon stroked the blond's back with the palms of his hands. It was an unwanted sign of affection, because it made Draco waver in his resolution to become drunk on lustful euphoria, stroking himself feverishly. He wanted to build an impenetrable wall around himself, to be lost in blissful carelessness. However, it was soon becoming evident that his body wasn't going to play along, and Draco sighed dejectedly, desperately stroking away. Surely, he had to be able to feel something? The eudaimon seemed to take no notice, pumping in and out of Draco's entrance, his sharp fingernails caressing soft flesh. It made the blond tremble with pain as the fingernails made many small wounds resembling paper cuts. As soon as it had occurred, the pain ceased and Melchior pulled out. Draco complied as Melchior pulled his arm in order to make him turn around. Coming face to face with this ethereal, dark being, Draco hardly dared to look up to meet the twin onyx stars which gleamed at him through the half dark. His winged master wasn't flashing his fangs in a wicked grin. There were no scorn in his nut shaped dark orbs. He wore an unreadable mask, and his lips pressed softly yet hungry against those of the blond Slytherin. Draco tensed as he felt Melchior's tongue probe timidly, first against Draco's lips, then further in, exploring the wet cave awaiting there. Draco was reminded of those times he'd made out with Pansy Parkinson. Just thinking about it actually helped, and he felt his groin grow warm from the memories combined with the actual sensation of the foreign tongue in his mouth, searching, kissing the tip of Draco's tongue. But he didn't dare to let himself go, to embrace the passion. He was terrified of doing something wrong in the hands of this hellish creature.
Breaking off the kiss, Melchior contemplated his target for a moment. Draco was looking away, staring almost blankly at the desk in the corner. But the air was loaded with the scent of fear and trepidation. Combined with the smell of Draco's skin filling his nostrils, the eudaimon was enthralled, the blood-lust in him soaring in the euphoria unconsciously created by the human in front of him. Leaning in until his nose touched Draco's left cheek, he whispered into the blond's ear:

“The more you fear me, the more I want to come inside you while I dig out your entrails with my bare hands, Draco Malfoy. You're so beautiful – your fear so exquisite like a fine wine, and the way your body shudders beneath my touch is pure gasoline to the flames you've already ignited through your disgust for me.” Melchior nibbled slowly at Draco's left earlobe, his breath in the blond's ear spellbinding the Slytherin. Draco inhaled sharply and swallowed. “Your feeble attempts at your own life annoy me” Melchior continued, cupping Draco's limp member in his hand, rubbing it gently, “I must have you alive for as long as it pleases me. ”
Draco shook his head faintly. He trembled violently, from the cold and from the fear, not knowing what to do with himself besides standing right up and down just inches away from the winged demon.

“You have bewitched me completely. Given the prospects of your future, I couldn't allow you into the realm of the dead even if I wanted to. So I shall amuse myself with you for a little while longer. Now, I am a demon with very simple needs. I ask for so little of you” the eudaimon purred as he wrapped his fingers around Draco's member, “just a little bit of devotion will do.”

Draco swallowed hard, shutting his eyes tight as the eudaimon whispered into his ear. Controlling his anxiety was difficult, and he cringed almost involuntarily, wanting to avoid the touch of the eudaimon's fingers. In response, Melchior wrapped his other digits around Draco's throat, forcing the blond backwards and onto the bed.
“There is no way you will escape me” Melchior hissed, clearly irritated at Draco's evasive behaviour. He still pumped away at Draco's awakening member, and Draco clawed at the fingers around his neck which pressed on his windpipe. He made no attempt to wriggle as Melchior made his way between the blond's thighs, quickly mounting the Slytherin again in one fluid move. The sensations combined sent Draco bolting into an orgasm more quickly than he'd expected. Deep down he had to admit to himself it was a mindblower to be stimulated like that all at once. Letting go off his throat, Melchior commenced to thrust away with more ferocity than before, and Draco grit his teeth. It felt as if he was about to be split in two. He whimpered and winced at the mighty thrusts, dreading the next one, and he pushed at Melchior's torso, wriggling to get away.
“Please, it hurts!” Draco begged in between sobs. All sense of lust and good emotions had evaporated.
“Be quiet, my dragon! Be grateful it is me and not some ordinary demon who's between your legs! He would have fared a lot worse with you than this!” Melchior snarled, thrusting away even harder than just moments ago. The pain made Draco sob out loud. He cringed as Melchior reached forward and grabbed Draco at the back of his neck, locking him in a virtually impossible position, and the blond found himself incapable of doing anything except taking the thrusts which hammered into his abdomen. Melchior put his entire weight down on the blond, gripping his neck with his other hand as well, pinning Draco to the mattress. Sobbing, Draco prayed for someone to come and help him. But who would want to help him?

“Shortly there will come a time where you'll be given a chance to prove your loyalty to me. Now that I have shown you how I treat good boys and how I treat those who are bad, I suggest you think carefully about how you want to spend your nights in the years to come” Melchior hissed through gritted teeth as he came, setting aside all restraint. Once he was finished, the eudaimon dismounted. Draco folded his legs back in with much effort. His thighs hurt, his pelvic area was battered and his entrance burned. He curled up in foetal position, facing the wall away from the eudaimon, and his body shook though Draco stifled his sobs, hoping the eudaimon was through for the night.

As the clock struck seven, Draco couldn't get out of bed. His hips ached, the back of his neck stung and he felt as if every muscle had collapsed in his body. He wanted his mum. He wanted so bad to just make himself tiny again and crawl onto her lap and curl into a small bundle there, forever hiding in her arms, shielded and protected from all of the evils of the world. Draco just wanted to die. Though the tears had stopped and the sobs had ceased, Draco still screamed inside. It was a bottomless, desperate cry for help which never stopped calling. After about ten minutes, the mattress beneath him was on fire. He'd been in it too long, and the memories from the night, made him feel as if smitten with some terrible disease. Getting up, he found he could hardly sit, so he quickly staggered to his feet. He found his clothes and attempted to put on his boxers, but he had to look away as he saw dried blood between his thighs. Ignoring it, he put on his school uniform and combed his hair. He had been a bad boy. He had rattled on Melchior to Harry Potter about Hermione. He had knelt infront of the Boy Who Lived and practically given himself to him. Walking off mechanically to the Great Hall, he found himself an empty seat at the end of the Hufflepuff table. He winced as he sat down and quickly rose as if he'd just sat on a needle. He achieved in finding himself an alternate position, and had just very inelegantly seated himself again, when Dumbledore hasted in through the gates along with Snape and a number of unknown officials from the Ministery, shouting his name loud and compelling. Turning his head slightly, Draco registered Hermione Granger who were actually just a few steps away from him, looking as if she wanted something.

“Draco Malfoy!” Dumbledore called again. It was not the sort of request to be denied, Draco could see. Dumbledore looked angry, just like the time when he'd just read Harry Potter's name on a piece of paper in the Triwizard Tournament, hardly believing his own eyes. Snape looked tense, and the rest of the men seemed grave and sombre. This couldn't possibly be good. And Draco hadn't even gotten himself breakfast yet! Sighing heavily, Draco ventured to get to his feet. Then Hermione took his arm, and as their eyes met, she smiled at Draco. Supporting him so he got back to his feet, he understood she'd seen him struggle. He was less pleased with the fact that once again everyone was staring at him. And what was far more distressing all together was that the Ministry officials had their wands ready now as they approached him, something which made Dumbledore's face shift to an angry red. Or was it Draco he was angry with? Too much. As they approached, Draco's vision began to blur. He reached out for Hermione to support him but his fingers grasped through nothing but air. Breathing steadily was getting harder, and the floor beneath his feet began to swirl. The last he saw before going down, was the unclear picture of a mass of moving bodies coming towards him.

Dumbledore's office. Once again. Draco swallowed, and brought his hand over to the plate of food in front of him. The silence was deafening, and he could almost hear the crowd hold their breaths as they watched in anticipation as he picked up the sandwich with his left hand and brought it to level with his mouth. Hermione had insisted upon him eating something, consciously talking loud to Dumbledore in the Great Hall so he would feel pressured to entertain her whim. Now, she was sitting next to Draco, on a chair similar to his, by a table set in the middle of the room. And forming a circle, members of the Ministry – the undersecretary of Magical Defences and the minister of Magical Defences himself, flanked by ten aurors on either side with their wands drawn. And in the middle of all of this, was Professor Snape and Dumbledore. Draco had a bite off his sandwich. He gulped it down with some juice, and the bystanders murmured something between themselves while they glanced at him and nodded. Feeling starved, Draco forced himself to eat the entire sandwich all though the bread seemed to expand in his mouth. He was grateful for Hermione's presence, though because of her immediate presence with him in the Great Hall, she was now just as much facing trial as he was. Having eaten the first sandwich, Draco proceeded with the next. When his glass was empty, the Minister flicked his wand and refilled it, this time with something deep red. It was a fairly thick fluid, and Draco immediately resented it. But he reached for the glass, and once again he saw the crowd breathlessly anticipating his actions. He wrinkled his nose at the strange smell. Touching the surface with his pinky, he tasted it. Putting down his sandwich, he pushed the glass away and eyed the Minister.

“It's blood” Draco stated. The crowd murmured. Snape watched their reactions with increased tension. “I – I won't drink that!” Draco said a little louder.

“Are you sure you don't fancy a little sip?” the Minister asked him coldly, raising one eyebrow at him. Draco shook his head in reply. Flicking his wand, another glass similar to the blood-filled one appeared next to it, but it looked as if it was orange juice. Draco reached for the glass and held it to his lips. Tasting the fluid, he rose from the table in one fluid movement, sputtering, dropping the glass on the table. Stumbling backwards whilst wiping his mouth, he looked at the Minister questioningly. “Forgive me” the Minister said with a blank expression on his face, “but I had to make sure you weren't deceiving me. I've never met a demon who's been able to withstand such a temptation as a full glass of fresh human blood!” He flicked the wand again and the mess disappeared. Draco didn't reply, but sat down on his chair again, next to Granger. “Do you know why you are here?” he continued on, solemnly. Draco shook his head.

“During the evening on the day before yesterday, the SWaD went off in the closed wing at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries” the under-secretary stated, as his job was to lay out the general information on the subject. Draco looked bewildered at Hermione. In response, she replied: “The Spirit Ward against Demons! It's designed to sound an alarm if the magical barriers of the hospital are breached, alerting a large number of aurors on or near-by the location.”

“Yes, Miss Granger. That is in deed the case. The nurse on watch that night saw one figure. One demon, Mister Malfoy. And he had taken on your appearance. She instantly recognized your face from the Daily Prophet!”

Draco was speechless. It was a bad dream and he was the centre of it. Hermione gazed questioningly at him, before she looked at the under-secretary and the Minister who currently was speaking. The wheels in her mind were churning away. Draco could almost hear the tic tock of the clockwork pounding away inside her brains.

“The demon appeared inside the rooms respectively belonging to Alice Longbottom and then her husband, Frank. The parents of Neville Longbottom, a fellow student at Hogwarts, I'm told?”

Draco's heart had begun to race inside his chest. Dread was filling him up by the minute, and he listened breathlessly as the Minister waited, looking expectantly at him. Hermione nudged at him with her elbow, and it was enough for him get his wits going ever so slightly. He nodded his head, not sure what he was complying to.

“And are you familiar with the backgrounds on Frank and Alice Longbottom, why they came to be residents at the hospital?” the minister wanted to know.

“Y – yes, Sir” Draco replied, clearing his throat. He was terrified now, really terrified, and his heart beat so loud he had to really focus. Holding his breath, he listened as the minister asked him another question.

“Thorough examinations by a number of independent practitioners have concluded that after the demon's visit – during which he performed two sessions of Song Magic – Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom are fully recovered from their insanity.”

Draco could hardly believe what he was hearing. It was great news on Neville's behalf, but somehow the minister did not look that pleased.

“I consider this a complex matter, Mister Malfoy. Your father in incarcerated for being a Death Eater. I understand you're a Death Eater yourself – !” the minister was about to continue, but then both Snape and Dumbledore responded, arguing that Draco had abandoned all such endeavours, referring to the vanished mark on his left forearm, “ – but that you no longer pursue a career in that direction. Combined with the recent sad events at Hogwarts concerning the rumours of you being the target of an eudaimon, naturally the question I must ask you is whether or not you have demon affiliates to your disposal?”
Draco looked from Snape to the minister and back to Dumbledore. The minister had lost him at the outburst from the headmaster on Draco's behalf, and now he wondered what the question was all about.

“Sorry?” he said, with inquiring tone.

“Demon affiliates. Do you have any demon affiliates, Mister Malfoy?” Draco shot Hermione a glance. She, on the other hand, understood perfectly, and said; “He wants to know if you're a practitioner of the Dark Arts. If you summoned a demon.” To this, Draco looked at the minister again and shook his head.

“Lying” the Minister began, “is no good with all these aurors present, Mister Malfoy. I strongly encourage you to tell the truth, or I will pull strings to ensure you end up keeping your father company in the neighbouring cell in Azkaban!”

“Minister!” Dumbledore thundered, “there is no need for threats! Mister Malfoy is as reliable as any of us in this room, and may I remind you that he is only sixteen of age. Underage magic – !”

“ – Mister Malfoy has, like his father, proved to be a Death Eater. Though a novice, I must consider him a threat to the security of the general public. The fact that Mister Malfoy is the target of a eudaimon and still very much alive after so many months, suggests that he has made connections with dark powers only He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can match!”

“Minister! I must object! Let us not forget what the demon did for Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom! Surely you must see that if young Draco was in deed up to no good, he wouldn't have sent his demon affiliate off on a charity mission!” Dumbledore thundered once more, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his face red with flustering anger. But Draco did not hear him. Nor did he see anything. For Hermione had put her hand on top of Draco's left hand, and now she squeezed it gently and reassuringly, looking at him briefly with a concerned look on her face. The spell between them was suddenly broken, and she removed her hand as the Minister took a step forward towards Draco.

“In deed. And this is where I am baffled. For a boy – a sixteen year old boy – to command an eudaimon, non the less, is unheard of. The benevolent act towards the Longbottoms is astounding. No magic but Song Magic can lift the harm done by an Unforgivable Curse. And to my knowledge, only eudaimons can master that kind of magic. It is forbidden for humans, wizards and Muggles alike! Now, I want to know your plan. Were you going to restore the Longbottoms and then press them into the Dark Lord's service, perhaps threatening them with insanity again?!”

The accusation led to an uproar. Dumbledore and Snape began to shout simultaneously at the Minister, horrified that he could even consider Draco to device such an unthinkable act. Hermione clutched Draco's hand again, looking terrified. The Minister's facial colour was turning a slight shade of purple as he was contemptuously staring Dumbledore down his nose, offending at having his actions questioned with such ferocity. Dumbledore and Snape somehow managed to check themselves, and the Minister turned his attention back to Draco.

“Draco, however impertinent the Minister's question is, I'm afraid you must answer it” Dumbledore told the Slytherin as mildly as he could. Strengthened by the touch of her hand on his, Draco cleared his throat and said: “I have no demon or eudaimon at my disposal. I have never devised any such plot against Neville's parents, all I've ever done is to write him a letter where I expressed my regrets for my past actions against him at Hogwarts, and – and that I felt to blame because of what my aunt did to his parents.”

The Minister paused, considering a proper reply. “And you never once ordered the eudaimon to go to St. Mungo's and perform this very complex ritual?”

“No, Sir. I'm in no position to command him” Draco replied, shifting in his seat, It was getting uncomfortable to sit. Fear was beginning to wear off, instead reminding him of the brutality of what he'd endured only hours earlier.

“Have you managed to identify him?” the minister wanted to know.

“Yes” Draco said, shifting again.

“Excellent! And what is his name?!” the minister said, suddenly much brighter to behold. Something made Draco hesitate. It was something in the way the Minister all of the sudden altered his attitude. The gleam of greed seemed to glow from his eyes.

“I can't tell you” Draco therefore replied.

“Can't or wont?!” the Minister replied. His face turned sourly again.

“Both, Sir.”

“This is outrageous! The aurors are prepared to feed you Veritaserum if necessary!”

“Minister, this is where I draw the line. Obviously,young Draco is in pain” the headmaster said, “and from what he has told you, the matter is quite clear. The eudaimon must have acted on its own accord! I assure you that we're all keeping an eye on the boy”Dumbledore said in a tone which suggested it had more than one meaning. “There is nothing to be done for young Draco, and I see no point in prolonging his sufferings through pointless questions. Getting to know his name isn't going to help our young Slytherin here. Now, he must rest, and should there be any more questions, please direct them to me!” Dumbledore now spoke in a clear, authoritative tone which suggested he wanted no more nonsense, obviously tired of what he perceived to be a farce. “Miss Granger, would you see Mister Malfoy back to his room, please?”

Hermione leapt from the chair and held out her hands, ready to catch him. Getting up was a slow and painful task. Draco still felt tender and sore all over. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin came to an abrupt halt outside in the corridors. Flashbulbs exploded in their faces, and none other than Rita Skeeter was there, nodding impatiently as the Under-secretary babbled away quite proudly to have discovered new and historical facts which were bound to go down in the history books with his own name on it. As the aurors parted to give way to a female figure, Hermione froze and let go off Draco's arm. She felt numb, not knowing what to do with herself. Looking at Draco, she saw his face washed in earnest disbelief as he too had discovered the elder woman waiting some metres away from them. Sensing a stupendous FPM – Front Page moment – , Rita Skeeter quickly wrapped up her current interview and turned her attention to the scene which began to unfold.

Narcissa Malfoy was dissolved in tears as she finally had the chance to gaze upon her child. The farewell letter he'd sent her only a few days ago, had crushed her heart to bits, and she'd wept for a day and a night, lamenting over the unfortunate fate of her baby boy which had grown up to resemble his father in so many ways. In her sorrow, she had cursed Lucius. She had cursed Voldemort and everything holy which had been supposed to keep her son safe. And yet, here he was, her dear son Draco. She cared not for the tears which poured down her cheeks, and she saw her emotions reflected as her son wept as well, opening to her the pain and fear he carried inside. They said nothing, but embraced each other, just holding on for a very, very long time while a rain of flashing bulbs exploded like fireworks around them. She then unfolded her embrace only to cup her son's face in her hands, gazing into his sad, sad grey eyes. Motherly instinct took over as she checked herself, steeling herself for the sake of her son upon seeing how badly he was lacking in confidence and hope. The dark half circles beneath his eyes could not be ignored. His otherwise magnificent hair was out of place and in badly need of a shower. He had a blue imprint around his throat, from ear to ear – and it pained her to imagine what terrors he endured, what torments he underwent. She examined him silently, her tears still pouring shamelessly down her made-up, rouged cheeks. She could see he struggled. He was fighting to gain strength to leave her, and he slowly and grudgingly let go off her, sighing heavily and troubled. Turning his head towards someone – finding a girl with brown eyes and golden brown hair at the far end of the corridor – he gazed at the girl and seemed to draw strength from her and the way she seemed to light up as their eyes met. He finally let go off his mother. Another wave of tears poured from her eyes as it occurred to her that she was losing him in more than one way. Her son was now a man who had crawled out from her womb and her lap and into the arms of a young woman his own age. The way he drew strength from that girl – a Gryffindor by the looks of it – told Narcissa as much. He looked at his mother with an unreadable yet lost expression, and it was as if he silently told her: 'I don't know if I'll be all right, but as you can see I am not facing this alone.' Whoever the girl was, Narcissa felt indebted. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek with the front of her hand. Taking it gently, arresting it in its touch against his cheek, Draco turned his head slightly to kiss the skin there. Overwhelmed with emotions as they both were, mother and son looked one another in the eye one final time, before Draco let go off her hand and directed his steps towards the girl waiting for him. Narcissa turned her head to stare after him with a mix of grief and pride.

Hermione Granger felt an overwhelming need to protect Draco Malfoy. He didn't want to go back to his room. His tears had no end, and he didn't care who saw them. He couldn't fathom why Hermione was still there with him. He felt no greater than a grain of dust. A speckle of dirt. And the Minister's condemning voice still chimed in his ears. And beneath the fear and the disbelief bubbled anger. Anger because he felt misunderstood by the Minister, – anger towards the eudaimon for destroying his life, – anger towards his parents for failing to help him, – anger towards Snape, Dumbledore and everyone else who couldn't help him, and most of all – anger towards himself for being so damn weak! His mother's tear-streaked image still burned on his retinas as he glanced at Hermione. She'd fetched him a cup of steaming tea, and she sat it down quietly on the table. She watched him rub his face in the palms of his hands, giving away his frustration. She couldn't help herself but to stare at the way his blond strands of hair moved between the fingertips. She wanted to reach out and touch him. The impulse started a series of shocking images to her brains. As they were seated in the library, which was the only quiet place she could think of where Draco would have some privacy, an image of herself with Draco in passionate embrace unfolded on her retina. Glancing over to some vacant shelves some five yards away from them, the images in her mind seemed to translate into ghostly shapes, and she saw herself with Draco, her head flung backwards while he nibbled away at her throat, turning her into a shivering lump of pure ecstasy. Her mouth half open, she kept her eyes closed, bucking and grinding against him – Gryffindor school uniform rubbing against the fabric of the Slytherin colours – her naked thigh beneath the skirt revealing as she lifted one knee, caressing his strong leg, inviting him into her – …!Hermione turned her head away, shocked at her own imagination. She saw him looking at her from across the table, quite serene with a questioning glance, a deep frown across his forehead.
“Are you all right, Miss Granger?” Draco asked. His grey-blue eyes seemed to capture her and wrap her into compelling bonds. Bonds which would make her put on a leach if necessary and become his plaything!

What was she thinking?

Hermione shut her eyes tight, before she answered: “It's nothing. I thought I saw someone I knew. There was actually something I wanted to tell you that I've discovered” she said, trying to avoid the subject of what just had happened, “and it has to do with something I understand you disclosed to Harry last night.”
Now it was Draco's turn to shut his eyes tight and wish himself a black hole to disappear into.
“A demon's bane” she stated, much to Draco's great relief. “It's actually called just that: Demon's Bane, because that's what it does. It's a dagger, Draco! A weapon. And it has the power to permanently kill off demons!” She paused to see she'd caught Malfoy's full attention. “It doesn't send them back to Hell, it doesn't wound them. The tiniest rift, and they die – their existence ends forever.” Looking meaningful at him, her eyes spoke volumes. He felt his heart beat fast in his chest. At last. A weapon against the eudaimon! His thoughts raced forward, as he realised one important obstacle: Draco knew nothing about fighting with anything other than a wand. Over the years he'd punched the noses of a few undesirable students – including Harry Potter once or twice – but he was only able to hit them out of sheer luck.
“A dagger?” he replied whilst combing his fingers through his white-blond hair. Hermione looked at him wide-eyed as he did that. Or perhaps it had been over his ignorance.

The image of him on top of her, their naked bodies warm against each other whilst she combed her fingers through his hair with him smiling back at her, hit her directly in the gut. It was shocking because it was the kind of intimacy only seasoned lovers would commit to. She'd never thought of Ron that way.

“A – a dagger, yes” she managed to get her tongue going, “and it had a fairly accurate description to match. It's handle is inlaid with –with rubies and fire stones, and the blade is slightly curved – an Arabian feel to it, supposedly. It's supposed to have been forged in Hell, by a long gone Demon King who had it made to his human lover. For protection. I think. The pommel has a distinct engraving on it. An unborn baby inside a circle.” Staring at one another in silence for a second or two, Hermione held her breath as another image flooded her mind. She swallowed hard, as she before her inner mind's eye experienced the thrusts of Draco's manhood inside her, her body convulsing against his – ….! Draco winced, and looked away. Looking up at her again, he had an expression of distress plastered across his beautiful, manly features. But his eyes...! His gorgeous pale eyes were asking her the same as she was silently asking him:

'Did you just see what I just saw in my mind?'

Draco made as if to get up, before he thought the better of it and sat back down again. He took the cup, and drank his tea, greatly disturbed. Putting the cup back on the plate with a loud clunk, he put his elbows on the table edge and buried his face in his hands, moaning frustratingly. Hermione rested her hands in her lap, not knowing what to make of his reaction.

“Harry didn't tell you then, I take it?” Draco's voice sounded muffled from behind his hands.
“Tell me what?” she replied, looking more frustrated by the minute. Removing his hands, he bowed his head and stared at her from across the table – an honest, pleading face with a pair of big, grey-blue puppy eyes to match. He looked as if he was going to cry again, already red-rimmed around the eyes, and she could not help but to be all his, right here, right now. She felt herself go warm and fuzzy in her abdomen by the sheer look of his face. Had she been made from butter, she'd be all over the floor already.

“You sort of saw us...” Draco began, nodding his head in the direction of the vacant shelves she'd been staring at just some minutes ago. He didn't finish the sentence. Hermione nodded in reply. Draco was so distressed he felt nauseous. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her friendship! Not Hermione!

“It's the eudaimon” he continued quietly. “It's a game. He wants to see just how far he can make me go before I lose it, I'm sure of it” Draco spoke quietly with regret in his voice. “He said he would have loved to see me … hurt you. To have me do to you … what he does to me” Draco whispered, “but I told him, I said that I would never hurt you that way! I'd rather die, Hermione, than to do something like that! And then he said, that if I wouldn't comply, then perhaps you would once properly motivated. But whatever it is that you saw, Hermione” Draco spoke rapidly, “don't believe it! I would never hurt you that way! I could never force myself on you, I swear! And Harry Potter knows, I told him last night, I begged him to kill me before it got out of hand, but he wouldn't!” Draco told her desperately. He took out his wand and placed it in front of her on the table with a loud noise. “Take it! Around you, I don't trust myself with it!”

The honesty of his face and the distress in his voice brought her to tears. The sight of his wand between them – offered freely to her as a sign of submission – rendered her speechless. Fingers shaking violently, she touched his wand and electricity sparked through her. Enveloping it with her hand, she retrieved it. Holding it, feeling its sleek surface against the flesh of her palms made her think of a solid, throbbing erection just waiting to impale her. And it would have been Draco's erection.

“It's not...!” she began choked, “I didn't see us like that...!” she continued. It wasn't like Hermione Granger to be in lack of words, verbs and adjectives. Her mind was working frantically as she added in all the unsaid between the words Draco had spoken. If he resisted the eudaimon, the eudaimon would make her tempt him. Draco was going to be in even worse shape than he already was, if he continued to resist. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand.
Draco was dissolved in tears again. And she met his gaze as he whispered to her: “For all it's worth, Granger, I think I love you.”

Silence. Long and utter silence in which the Slytherin boy and the Gryffindor girl held their breaths, staring into each others honest gazes through a blur of tears.

They didn't see Ronald Weasley who'd just appeared. Nor had he heard any of the words spoken between them and therefore not understood anything of the underlying tension which now had the two of them in a solid grip. But he saw Hermione, melting away in tears, looking something akin to terrified. Malfoy was wiping his face, and in the course of a split second, Ronald decided that Draco Malfoy had distressed her in some way, probably telling her off about blood purity again.

The spell between them broke as Draco turned his head as Ron yelled his name, marching over to where they were seated. Draco had no chance of running. He would barely be getting out of his chair in time even if he had help. Hermione frowned, wiping her tears and obviously attempting to collect herself. Draco didn't want to come across to Ron as unfriendly, hoping a passive body language would help him in conveying that. Stopping in front of their table, Ron's brain seemed to partially receive the message.

“All right, Hermione? This bloke bothering you?!” he asked her, shooting Draco a hateful glance.

“We're having a private conversation, Ron. Please go away” Hermione replied sternly. An inexplicable anger against him rose quickly in her, but she was diverted as the film in her head began to move again, and she knew – she just knew that if she and Draco were to be together in bed, there would be a pregnancy – as opposed to with Ron. Being with Draco meant becoming pregnant at sixteen. Her quick wits raced forward, and she thought of Harry and his struggle with Voldemort. If she were to be pregnant, she wouldn't be able to help him, or would she? She kept returning to the description of the pommel of the Demon's Bane. The unborn child. Draco's child. It would be a Malfoy, and where would that leave her? What of Draco's family? What would their chances of a future together be, once it was discovered that Draco had defiled himself with a half breed? There were no chances, were there? A voice somewhere in her mind cajoled somewhat sarcastically. Once the eudaimon had had his kicks with them together in the sack, the enchantment would break and they would wake up to smell the reality. And she would be despaired about being pregnant at sixteen, and Draco...? He would probably loathe her for it as well. There had to be a anti-pregnancy charm to be had somewhere....! There just had to be! Thinking all of this in a split second of time, she then ventured to bestow Ron with a glance. He wasn't moving, and he was looking at Draco, obviously expecting some kind of reaction.
“Well” Ron said, groping for courage as well as for words, “what else was I supposed to think, seeing you all obliterated in tears together with Malfoy?!” Ron said, crossing his arms. The question seemed directed more towards Draco than Hermione, and it annoyed her to watch Ron in an obvious, humiliating effort to pick a fight against a completely defenceless, non-threatening fellow student. Draco's wand burned in her hands, and she felt as if Ron had near x-ray vision, being able to see it through the desk under which she was hiding it. Draco glanced at her, his face now an unreadable mask.

“I think I should be going” he told her briefly. He needed to rest. He needed to feel safe. The enormous emotional tides he'd experienced ever since three in the morning with Melchior was beginning to take its toll. Taking some deep breaths, steeling himself, he then proceeded to rise from the chair with stiff and awkward movements. Hermione got out of her chair quickly to take his arm. And it all happened in front of Ron.
“Thank you for the tea, Hermione. And for … you know, being with me in Dumbledore's office. I'll see you in class, perhaps later today, I think.”

“It's nearly lunch time. Surely, you'll be wanting some lunch?” Hermione ignored Draco's attempts at rounding up the conversation and get going – away from Ron.
“Well” Draco sighed, “I'll see you around there, then” he replied, smiling faintly at her. He felt dizzy, gazing into her sparkling brown eyes, and he glanced at the way her eyebrows arched elegantly and neatly over her brown orbs, the way her lips ended in a fine line at the corner of her mouth. Her very, very kissable lips...! Oh Draco had to get out of there, this instant.

Having forgotten herself as Draco rose from his seat, she still held on to his wand. Ron did of course instantly see it wasn't her wand. Looking from her to Draco and then back again, seeing the way they looked at each other, Ron drew two conclusions:
One: It was Draco's wand.
Two: They liked each other beyond snogging level.