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A/N~ I know it took me forever to post this chapter, and for that I am so sorry, but I really had to take my time with it. For some reason it was giving me major issues. But I got through it, and I came out mostly unscathed. I have been told it is my best chapter yet, so I hope all of you agree.

Kayy~ Thank you for all of the major compliments! Sorry about the big words, but I have an extensive vocabulary that likes to rear it’s ugly head when I write. And I am glad that the only two “problems” you found with the story were just compliments in disguise. I am so happy that you think my story is amazing, but unfortunately, I have no plans for castrating Blaise, sorry. J

Prufrockgirl~ Wow, I must say I was blown away when I read your review. The fact that you see my perfectionism as a good thing is excellent and made me feel validated, especially when it was making it super hard to write this chapter. Not to worry, I will never abandon my story, I am not a quitter and I plan to see this through to the end. As for the reaction I wanted, you actually nailed it. It was supposed to be hot, and I want you readers to want to hate Blaise, but you find yourself liking him instead. Muhaha! I am evil that way.

As for all you other wonderful readers who review, thanks a million for your encouraging words. I love you all and cherish each and every single one of you.

And last, but certainly not least, MistressMalfoy, you are my rock. Thank you for all of you undying support, especially when this chapter was kicking my ass this last week and a half. Without you keeping me motivated and sane, I would have pulled out my hair by now and I would be sitting in a padded room somewhere secluded babbling incoherently about all things Harry Potter.

Now read the damn chapter already…

* * * * *

Draco awoke on Saturday morning with the awful taste of firewhiskey coating his tongue. Thankfully, when it came to ingesting alcohol, Draco had his father’s endurance, and when it came to the morning after, he had inherited his mother’s constitution. There was no throbbing head, no sour stomach, and no memory loss of his activities from the night before. Therefore, aside from the nasty taste in his mouth, Draco woke up easily and able-bodied. It was mornings like this that Draco was most grateful for his parentage.

Yes, Draco had gotten thoroughly hammered last night, but how could he not when his housemates were supplying everyone with firewhiskey and downing it like it was water. Draco took advantage of the post-exams frenzy with the rest of the older students and was appreciative for the distraction. The past week had seen him in a notoriously bad mood, because not only was he still angry about Granger breaking it off with him, but said breaking off gave him the free time to contemplate the decision that would determine his future in the wizarding world. This merely increased his grouchiness.

So when Draco was welcomed into the Slytherin common room on Friday night by the rest of his housemates and handed a large shot glass full of firewhiskey, he did not hesitate to swallow the burning liquid. He needed to relax, to have a good time and allow his brain to shut out all thought that had to do with the Head Girl or the dark cloud of indecision looming over his head. And so, Draco retrieved his very own bottle of firewhiskey (much better quality than the rubbish in the common room) from his trunk upstairs that he was reserving for such an occasion. If he was going to get sauced, then he might as well do it the right way.

But the alcohol had not done what Draco had presumed. In fact, it had caused the reverse reaction; it was as if his thought process concerning the two subjects he was trying to overlook had gone into double duty instead of dismissing them all together.

Like it had done for the past week, Draco’s thoughts drifted to Granger. Once he had gotten back to the castle the night she ended it with him, the anger that he thought he had gotten over arose again without warning, setting up shop permanently. By late Sunday night, he was so furious that vengeance joined the annoyingly unfading resentment, and he devised a plan to make Granger feel just as disgruntled as he did. He reacquainted himself with some of the school’s most well known strumpets, showing up in the Great Hall every morning with a different bird on his arm. Draco made sure to throw Granger as many patronizing glances her way, and he was elated to see shock and displeasure adorn her pretty face.

Little did she know that Draco’s plan had backfired on him, because no matter how satisfied he appeared to be on the surface when they was with them, the truth was that he could barely stand the girls who were pawns in his revenge. They wore on Draco’s nerves with all that fucking giggling and hair tossing. They were covered in make-up and Draco was certain they bathed in vats of perfume. And their moronic disposition did nothing but make him long for Granger and her damned intelligence and their appearance made him appreciate the au natural beauty he had grown accustomed to. Hell, he couldn’t even remember their names most of the time, referring to them as “Slag” and snapping his fingers at them. For some reason they didn’t really care for that.

When Draco wasn’t thinking of Granger, it was the decision that he was being forced to make that was on his mind. After dinner, he would often ditch whatever girl was making a fool of herself over him, and go to the Room of Requirement where he could have the peace and solitude he needed to go over his options systematically. Every night ended the same way; he was unable to come to a conclusion that felt right. His inability to make one fucking decision served only to piss him off further. Draco would return to the Slytherin common room in an even worse mood than he when he left.

It was last night that Draco had two revelations. The first one was no matter how many women of easy virtue he associated with, none of them would have the same long soft brown hair, the same deep brown eyes that flashed with fire, the same petite but delectable body, or the same personality that he couldn’t banish from his thoughts. No matter how much he despised it or made him even more ill-tempered, Granger was still in his system and he still wanted her. He tried snogging those other girls, but it did nothing for him. A few of them sucked him off because they were practically begging him to let them, and he knew they would expect something from him, he did after all have to retain his Slytherin Sex God title, but Draco knew that there was no way he would be able to fuck them without imagining it was Granger under him instead. He of course wanted to shag them, for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he knew he would be disappointed knowing that it wasn’t the one girl he really needed to give it to. The fact that he couldn’t shag those other birds was yet another reason for Draco’s petulance. That Mudblood bitch had fucked up his Mojo!

This revelation arrived right before Blaise, who Draco had started talking to again only to insult the arsehole and make himself feel a bit better, even if it was only temporary, had brought up Draco’s responsibility of going on patrol. Draco knew that the mixture of alcohol in his system, Blaise bringing up a subject that remotely reminded him of Granger and his knew found knowledge caused his drunken outburst and horribly thought out contrast.

Draco’s second revelation of the night came to him after Blaise had announced that he was leaving in search of some broad to shag and had left Draco with no one fun to insult who would insult him back. Pansy was busy with Nott in a darkened corner, and the rest of his housemates were too intimidated by his recent bad temper to speak to him. Damn insipid cowards.

Sitting forebodingly in his chair and scowling at the fire in between sips from the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand, it suddenly dawned on Draco and he finally understood what he had to do. As soon as he stepped foot out of Hogwarts on his last day, he came into his inheritance, so not only was he going to be a free man academically, but financially as well. He could do what he damn well pleased, everyone else be damned (Draco also established that was to become his new motto). But he still wasn’t sure what he pleased, because his pleasure was hampered by having to choose between fighting with the dark or the light side. He knew Granger was right when she told him that he had too much power and was too smart to remain neutral, but Draco didn’t want to be caught fighting on what was considered the “wrong” side. He thought about it as logically as his liquor-soaked brain allowed, and as the fire in the hearth was dying and most of his housemates were already passed out in their beds or on the floor, he finally came to his conclusion.

Potter would win the war, and Draco knew that if he was on the same side, chances of that prediction coming to fruition would be greater. It was going to be bloody and violent, there were going to be battles and casualties, but in the end, when it came down to Potter and the Dark Lord, Potter would win. The Dark Lord’s followers would be captured and sent to Azkaban or killed, if they hadn’t been already. Draco’s arse was much too precious to become a Death Eater and spend the rest of his life in Azkaban like his father or even worse, end up dead. At that point, Draco cared nothing about either side’s cause, but only about himself and staying alive for as long as he could.

Returning to the present and stretching languidly, Draco turned his head and looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. If he got up now, he could hopefully catch the last half hour of breakfast. And after that, as much as he was dreading it, he needed to seek out Potter and tell him he was prepared to fight alongside him against the Dark Lord.

* * * * *

20 minutes later, Draco strolled into the Great Hall after a quick shower and the morning wank that had found its way into his daily routine ever since Granger severed their relationship (whom he fantasized about during aforementioned wank). There was still plenty of food on the tables due to the practically empty hall except for a smattering of students, mostly sixth and seventh years. Even the professor’s table was deserted. Draco suspected that the younger students and teachers had gotten up earlier and already had their breakfast and the older pupils were still sleeping off the mass amounts of alcohol they had consumed the night before.

Settling down in front of a huge plate of eggs, bacon, and kippers along with a steaming hot cup of strong tea, Draco was about to take his first delicious bite when his fork froze mid-air on the way to his open mouth. Across the hall, Draco had spotted Potter sitting at the Gryffindor table, a huge cup in his hands and a pot of what Draco surmised to be coffee right next to him, completely alone.

Sighing heavily, Draco looked longingly at his uneaten breakfast before gently placing his unused fork next to the full plate. He knew that this would probably be the only time he could speak to Potter confidentially without chasing him down and requesting a private conversation while Weasley and Granger stood right next to him, looking awestruck and oh so incredulous. Draco figured he might as well take advantage of the opportunity.

Draco stood up slowly, and not letting his aloof gaze falter, he casually made his way over to the Gryffindor table and directed himself over to Potter as though he did it on a daily basis. Draco just thanked the wizarding deities that everyone else in the hall was too hung over and oblivious to notice his out of the ordinary detour. Even Potter didn’t realize Draco was standing right next to him until Draco cleared his throat loudly while looking down irritably at him.

Potter’s head rose slowly while he winced in pain and his finger rubbed his right temple. Draco smirked at him when he saw Potter glance at him through squinted eyes, a quizzical expression on his face. When Potter recognized who was standing over him seconds later, an amused Draco watched as his grimace faded into a sneer while he glared at Draco and said nothing.

Rolling his eyes at Potter’s lack of hospitality, Draco pointed to the vacant spot next to him and said “May I?” Again, Potter remained mute and continued to glower hatefully. Draco took it upon himself to sit down with his back facing the rest of the hall with his elbows propped on the table.

“Really Potter, you must work on those manners of yours. One would think you were raised by Muggles.” Draco drawled.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Potter asked tiredly.

“The latest model in the Firebolt series, to become the most successful and famous entrepreneur in wizarding history, and an assortment on gorgeous witches at my every back and call, but that is beside the point.” Draco said, waving his hand dismissively.

“So get to it already and get the bloody hell away from me.”

Draco smirked again as the tone of Potter’s voice became increasingly bitter.

“Blimey Potter, you’re not still upset about me fucking Granger, are you? I am sure you know by now that she ended that nearly the moment you told her to. If I weren’t so sure you were queer, I would suspect that you were in love with her.”

“Shut up Malfoy.” Potter responded bitingly.

“Hit a nerve did I? Did you and lover-boy Weasley have a row? I was really rooting for you two crazy kids to make it.” Draco jeered.

“Can you just get to the damned point? I am not in the mood to deal with your nonsense this morning.”

“Then you should stay away from the firewhiskey if you can’t handle it Potter.” Draco informed him.

“Say what you came over here to say or get the fuck away from me.”

“You’re an impatient bloody poof, aren’t you? Fine, well, I have found that I am much too important and handsome to become a Death Eater. Now don’t go getting an even bigger head when I tell you this Potter, but chances are you and your do-gooder friends are going to come out of this war victorious, and that means that the followers of the Dark Lord are either going to be killed or sent to Azkaban. I don’t fancy either option, so in the spirit of saving my own arse, I have decided to join your lame ranks and fight with you…reluctantly.” Draco stated simply.

Potter stared at Draco, obviously suspicious. Draco knew it would take more than just a well thought out speech to convince the damn pillock.

“Right, okay.” Potter said sarcastically. “How about this instead, I just walk up to Voldemort, lay down in front of him, and Avada Kedavra myself?”

Draco shrugged.

“Hey, if that is your war plan, I say go for it. It’ll save us all a lot of trouble, and I will almost certainly not be killed.”

“Do you think I am completely mental?” Potter asked, becoming serious again.

“Do I really need to answer that or was it a rhetorical question?”

Potter glared at Draco before he spoke again.

“You are the son of one of the most infamous Death Eaters and number one supporter of Voldemort. You have probably been in training since you were born-”

“Instruction doesn’t start until after the trainee has finished school.” Draco interrupted. “If you are going to spout out accusations you might as well do your homework first Potter. Besides, my father has nothing to do with this; it is my decision, not his.”

“What makes you think I’ll believe you Malfoy?”

“Do you really think I would risk my reputation by being seen conversing with you, at the fucking Gryffindor table no less, just to take the piss out of you?” Draco said, challenging Potter to come up with a retort.

“You could already be working for him, trying to infiltrate the Order and gain our trust only to bring him vital knowledge and turn on us during the final battle.” He said firmly, as though he already believed that asinine assumption.

“I could be, but I’m not.” Draco replied while staring into Potter’s dark green eyes glowing with doubt.

“You have treated me and my friends like shite for seven years. You were ecstatic when the basilisk was roaming the school and petrifying people, including Hermione, you tried to get Hagrid fired, you leaked false information about me to Rita Skeeter, you joined Umbridge’s damn Inquisitorial Squad, not to mention all the times you have tried to incite duels with me in the halls, your constant ridicule of Ron and his family, and calling Hermione a Mudblood since second year and treating her as though she were beneath you. And that’s only a few reasons why I don’t believe you.”

“Really, that was me? I had no idea.” Draco said in mock surprise.

“You are an arsehole Malfoy.” Potter responded bluntly.

“I know, and that is what is making it so easy for you to doubt me and my motives, but my being an arsehole isn’t the issue here.”

“You probably already have your Dark Mark.” He mumbled caustically.

Draco, who was getting increasingly irritated with Potter, sighed loudly and rolled his eyes before he discreetly pulled up the sleeve of his black shirt and exposed his left forearm. Potter watched Draco through narrowed eyes before shifting his gaze down to see the unmarked pale skin.

“As I told Granger, as if I would ever maim my perfect complexion with the Dark Mark.”

Potter raised his eyes to meet with Draco’s, his expression still reflecting his uncertainty.

“I still don’t trust you, or believe you for that matter.” He stated coldly.

“Look Potter, you can’t deny that I am exceptionally intelligent and more than skilled with a wand. I didn’t make Head Boy based solely on my good looks, even though I could have. The moment I leave this school, my inheritance is placed in my private vault at Gringotts, and I can do whatever I want with it, including financially backing the Order. I grew up amongst the darkest of arts and was taught more than most Death Eaters know. I was raised by a Death Eater, and tutored on the perfect Death Eater mentality, and I am willing to make that all available to you and the Order. I am someone that you need on your side Potter, and you know it.” Draco told him, aware that his voice had dropped in volume and his eyes had never left the other boy’s.

Potter was silent and Draco could tell he was considering Draco’s offer very deeply. While Potter mulled it over as though it meant life or death, Draco turned his attention to examining his immaculate nails. He glanced at Potter every once in a while using his peripheral vision only to see him rubbing his temples vigorously while his eyes were closed in deep concentration. He was such a fucking drama queen!

Finally after 5 minutes of quiet contemplation in which Potter never ceased his head treatment and Draco became more and more bored, Potter cleared his throat much in the same way Draco had done to him earlier.

Draco pulled his gaze from his hand to Potter’s face, fed up with having to wait around for the tosser to tell him what Draco already knew he would say. Draco had no doubt in his mind that Potter would accept him into the Order. He had made valid and unarguable points, and both of them knew it was true when Draco told Potter he needed Draco on their side. Potter needed all of the help he could get to win the war.

So when Potter muttered “Fine.” Draco was not surprised.

“But I still don’t trust you completely. You are going to have to earn that.” He added.

“I’m sure it will be my main mission in life to achieve your confidence.” Draco said sardonically. “Just don’t expect me to become best mates with you and Weasley. I’d sooner go dancing down the streets of Diagon Alley in a tutu.”

“Oh no, but that was my life long dream Malfoy. I was hoping we could call ourselves the Three Musketeers.” Potter replied, the sarcasm in his voice matching Draco’s.

“The Three what? Are you referencing Muggle shite? Don’t do that around me, it’s aggravating.”

“All the more reason to do it. And you said you were, what was it, ‘exceptionally intelligent’?” Potter said, smiling mockingly.

“I am where it matters, so fuck off Potter.” Draco growled while glaring back at the smirking boy.

“Listen,” said Potter, suddenly serious, “I need to meet with Dumbledore, we both do, but I think you should be sort of a double agent. You are already expected to become a Death Eater after school, so there would be no questions asked if you join them.”

“You want me to become a spy?” Draco asked heatedly. “Didn’t I just tell you I don’t want to be a Death Eater?”

“It is for the greater good Malfoy.”

“Fuck the greater good! All I care about is keeping myself alive and out of Azkaban. If I am found out, then I am dead, and if I am caught by the Ministry, two guesses as to where I will be sent.”

Draco continued to glare at Potter, who was now looking at Draco with a puzzled expression on his face. Draco felt the great urge to bellow loudly in frustration. This aligning himself with the ‘good side’ business was a lot more work then he thought it would be. He figured he would be welcomed by everyone, overwhelmingly grateful that he had chosen to fight on their side, and he would be some bad-arse defender of all things cute, fluffy, and muggle-loving, while Granger would just be beside herself with desire for him. He had no intention of becoming a fucking spy with the life expectancy of a fruit fly.

Potter sighed as though he were just as frustrated as Draco.

“The Order can protect you from Azkaban. All we would have to do is tell the Ministry you were with us, and you would be set free. Either that or we could hide you at headquarters until your name is cleared. As for getting found out by the other Death Eaters or Voldemort, that is really a question of how Slytherin you fancy yourself and how good of a liar you are. You were sorted into that house because of your cunning, so you will just have to utilize it. Plus, you said you know more dark magic than most Death Eaters, and you know the exact mentality of one, so put all that to use. It’ll probably help you outsmart them while staying undercover. I can’t promise you that you won’t be killed, a lot of people probably will be,” Potter paused for a moment and swallowed some coffee out of his cup loudly after making this statement before continuing, “but you’ll have a better chance of survival on our side and if you play the other side convincingly. If you want to join us, you have to make some sacrifices in order to win. As much as I hate to admit it, you would play an important part in bringing Voldemort down, and Merlin, I can’t believe I am about to say this, but we do need you on our side because you are probably one of the only people who could pull it off.”

Draco hung his head down and took in all of what Potter had said. He couldn’t deny that he had just gotten a major ego boost, but was it enough to convince Draco to become what he had been against from the beginning of the year? Lifting his head back up, Draco stared at Potter, his body surging with spite and agreement.

“You are a wanking prat Potter. I fucking hate you with every fiber of my being.” Draco told him.

“So does that mean you’ll do it?”

“Yes,” said Draco without hesitation. He was no gutless wonder, and he knew that Potter was right. “But that doesn’t mean you can go around telling me what to do. And if I get discovered by those bastards and killed, I am going to haunt your sorry orphan arse for the rest of your life.”

Potter nodded and smiled.

“It’ll probably be hard for them to find out they have a spy in their forces seeing as how there has been one infiltrating their ranks for 18 years and they still haven’t caught on to him.”

“Who?” Draco asked curiously. At least he wouldn’t be the only one putting his life on the line for Potter’s fucking ‘cause’.

“Yeah, let me just give you damning and crucial information about the Order before you are even a member. Are you ready to take notes?” Potter said, rolling his eyes.

Draco flipped him off before continuing their conversation.

“How are you going to go about telling everyone I want to join the Order? I am guessing not everyone is as daft as Weasley.”

“Leave that up to Dumbledore and me.” Potter instructed. “As for you being a spy, I want only a select few members to know. Mostly the older ones like Moody-”

“Moody?” Draco asked alarmed, “You better tell that nutter to stay away from me. I don’t enjoy the thought of being transfigured into a rodent again.”

“That wasn’t him.” Potter said discarding Draco’s comment before continuing as though he wasn’t interrupted. “We will have to tell the other insider about you, although I am not sure how he will react to it. And of course I will know, and so will Ron.”

“Brilliant, yeah, a select few my arse.” Draco muttered.

“We will tell everyone else in the Order you are actually on our side after you are established as a reputable Death Eater. After that we can have you move into headquarters and give you an extra degree of protection.”

“Fine.”

“One person who definitely does not need to know yet is Hermione. She will try to talk both you and me out of it. That damn bleeding-heart characteristic of hers gets in the way more often then not. And I want you to stay away from her until we reveal you as a member. After that, talking to her is fine, but the moment you try and shag her again is a moment you’ll live to regret. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure, if we want to fuck, we will, you couldn’t stop us Potter.”

“I have before, haven’t I?” he asked smugly.

Draco was about to respond with a witty and biting remark, but he was distracted by someone entering the Great Hall.

“Uh oh, I think someone is a little mad.” He said indicating with his head to what he was currently staring at. Potter turned and saw what Draco did. Weasley was swiftly stomping to the Gryffindor table, red faced and glowering pointedly at Draco.

“Shite.” Potter mumbled. He looked worried, but all Draco could think about was how much fun he was about to have taking the piss out of the weasel.

Weasley stood next to Potter a moment later, his wand in his hand, his face even redder up close, and his blue eyes sparking with fury. He was still hatefully glaring at Draco as he addressed his best mate, butt-buddy, boyfriend, life-partner, whatever.

“What is he doing at our table Harry? If he is fucking with you, I’ll hex his bolloks off!”

Draco snorted as Potter tried to calm him down. Weasley couldn’t hex Hagrid even if he was standing completely still with a target painted on his broad chest.

“It’s okay Ron, we were only talking.” Potter told him soothingly.

“Yeah Weasley,” added Draco, “so put your fucking wand away before you hurt yourself.”

Weasley looked at Potter, who nodded his head in confirmation before putting his wand in his pocket and folding his arms across his chest, the blood slowly leaving his flushed face.

“What’s going on here Harry?” he asked suspiciously.

Draco took it upon himself to answer.

“Potter here has finally embraced his dark side and now he is going to become a Death Eater with me and the Dark Lord’s second in command. I’m just here to fetch him for the final fittings of his black billowing hooded robes and scary skull mask. I would say that you could join too Weasley, but you are poor and a blood-traitor, not to mention dimwitted, so you have nothing to offer but the promise of being a human shield and your imminent, but highly entertain, death. Shall we get a move on then Potter? You know Ol’ Voldie doesn’t like to be kept waiting, it makes him cranky. Has the temperament of a two year old, that one does.” Draco stated matter-of-factly all while keeping his expression serious. He knew that retaining a cool and collected exterior would come in handy one of these days.

Weasley’s mouth was hanging open and his shocked gaze kept alternating between Potter and Draco. Draco found it extremely hard to hold back the smirk that was threatening to break free, and when he glanced at Potter, who was glaring at him; he also saw the humor flashing in his eyes and the corners of his mouth twitching.

Taking a deep breath, most likely to compose himself, Potter said firmly but quietly, “Malfoy is going to join the Order Ron.”

“What?” Weasley shouted.

If the hall had been full, that would have been the moment that everyone ceased talking and stopped eating to watch what daily drama was unfolding right before their eyes. Luckily, there were still only a handful of students there who merely winced at the offending bellow that added to their aching heads, including Potter.

“Shut up Ron.” He said, his face twisted into an expression of pain.

“No I will not shut up! Have you gone mental Harry?”

“Damn it Ron, just sit down and I’ll fucking explain!” Potter shouted back at him.

Draco watched, thoroughly amused, as Weasley jumped at the sound of Potter’s cursing, and sat down on the bench on the other side of Potter with a thud. He soundlessly piled his plate with food and ate sloppily as Potter filled him in on his and Draco’s conversation. As Draco listened, impervious to the occasional snorts of disbelief, he realized how unrealistic the whole thing sounded to an outsider. If he hadn’t been one of the two subjects of the explanation, he wouldn’t have believed it either. Potter was going to have one hell of a time trying to convince the rest of the Order. Oh well, it wasn’t Draco’s responsibility.

When Potter was done with his narrative and Weasley’s plate was clear, Weasley finally accepted what Potter had said as the truth, though it hadn’t wiped that damn annoying glare off of his ugly freckled face.

“I’m still in bits about all this dodgy business Harry, so if you don’t mind, I’ll hold off on believing him until Dumbledore gives his approval.” He claimed.

“Like I give a tiny rat’s arse about your opinion or trust Weasley.” Draco drawled.

“Fuck you ferret-boy!”

Draco rolled his eyes. Didn’t calling him a ferret get old around fifth year? Imbecile.

“Oh that was original and so well thought out. It must be that superior Weasley intellect I hear so much about. Burped up any slugs lately?”

Weasley was about to respond, his face once again turning red, but he was halted when Potter put his hands up and looked around the hall with an expression of concern.

“Hey, I haven’t seen Hermione all morning. Have you Ron?”

Weasley shook his head.

“No, and almost everyone is awake now and laying about in the common room, grumbling about squeamish stomachs and headaches. Maybe she ate breakfast earlier.”

It was Potter’s turn to shake his head, wincing at the movement.

“I’ve been here all morning drinking coffee, since the doors opened. She hasn’t been here. Come to think of it, I don’t remember her coming back from her patrol last night. She was really sauced too. I knew I shouldn’t have let her go. She could be anywhere.”

Potter turned his head quickly and shot Draco, who had now been listening with interest, an accusing glare.

“She sure as fuck wasn’t with me Potter, so don’t get your lacy knickers in a twist.”

“Why would she have been with Malfoy?” Weasley asked bewilderedly, but Draco did not hear the question.

At that exact moment, Draco recalled not seeing Blaise come back from his quest for a girl to have it off with, nor had he spotted him this morning in the common room, and he knew for certain he wasn’t in the hall. Draco jumped to his feet quickly, his mind racing.

That bloody, fucking, wanking, piece of shite, tossing bastard! He had to find Granger, and he had to do it now. There was no telling whether or not she and Blaise met up in the halls and if they did, Draco was most certain that Blaise would have taken advantage of her intoxicated condition.

Both Weasley and Potter were staring up at Draco curiously, whose leap had interrupted their conversation.

“We need to find her.” Draco said through clenched teeth.

“What do you mean ‘we’ Malfoy? Where do you get off telling us what to do? And what does it matter to you if we don’t know where Hermione is?”

“Shut the fuck up Weasley.” Draco growled, sending him a warning with his eyes. He then looked over. “Potter?”

He must have recognized the mixture of alarm and dangerous anger in Draco’s eyes, because he stood up as well and nodded his head at Draco.

“Come on Ron, let’s go.”

* * * * *

The three boys had searched the castle up to the 6th floor and yet there was still no sign of Granger. The more time that passed, the more irritated and irate Draco was becoming. What Potter and Weasley didn’t know, probably because they were inattentive plonkers, was that Draco was also covertly looking for Blaise as well. He would have deserted the two tossers and tried to find Granger or Blaise on his own, but he was well aware that they knew her regular stomping grounds better than he did. This proved to be a poor choice on Draco’s part for the more time he spent with Potter and Weasley, the more impatient he was feeling to find Granger and get the fuck away from them. It wouldn’t help Draco’s mood when Weasley would open his big fat mouth and complain that she was probably outside or something and their search was unnecessary, and his feet were starting to hurt. If Draco couldn’t stand him now, he didn’t even want to think about being in similar situations with the wanker during the war. He may as well just end up in Azkaban for sending a killing curse the sodding simpleton’s way.

“This is stupid. Why don’t we just wait for Hermione to turn up like she always does?” Weasley asked for what had to have been the 300th time.

Draco and Potter stopped walking and stood in front of the now immobile red-headed pain in Draco’s arse, and Potter sighed exasperatedly while Draco glared daggers at Weasley.

“I want to find her now Ron. She has been missing since last night, and it’s not like her to not find us and reassure us that she is okay.” Potter told him.

“But she could be anywhere. We’ll never be able to find her.” Weasley whined.

“Fucking hell Weasley, if you don’t shut the fuck up I am going to kick your arse and stick you someplace where no one will ever be able to find you either.” Draco threatened, his aggravation getting the best of him temporarily before he reminded himself to remain composed and detached.

“This castle is too big.” He continued as though Draco hadn’t spoken.

“Which is exactly why we are looking for her Ron.” said Potter, who was rubbing his temples again.

“Yeah Weasley,” added Draco, “it’s not as if she is just going to pop out of thin air and bump right into us.”

As if on cue, a brown blur rounded the nearest corner and smacked straight into Potter’s back, emitting a small squeal as it pushed Potter forward and fell backwards, causing him to smash into an unsuspecting Weasley, who stumbled dangerously close to Draco, and crashed on the floor as Draco stepped aside gracefully and avoided the three person collision. Bloody hell, that was fantastic. It was about damn time Draco started channeling his extraordinary magical potential

“It’s not as if all of you are going to disappear and I will become the king of the wizarding world.” Draco announced, causing all three pairs of eyes to focus on him questioningly.

“I was just trying it out.” He told them as Potter helped Weasley and Granger off of the ground.

Potter looked at the cause of the pile-up ignoring Draco.

“Hermione, where have you been?” he cried.

Granger said nothing as she gazed dumbfounded at Potter before shifting her eyes to Weasley standing next to him, both wearing the same inquiring expression. When she finally realized that Draco was watching her and waiting for her answer, her eyes narrowed.

“What is he doing here Harry?” she asked while still glaring at Draco.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s going on Hermione? Why didn’t you come back last night? Where were you?” he responded.

“Yeah Granger,” Draco interjected, “and why do you look like shite run over twice?”

Granger glared a few seconds more a Draco before lowering her gaze and taking in her appearance. She saw what Draco did. Her long brown hair was tangled and more frizzy than usual, her face was pale, her eyes glassy and lethargic, and her clothes were wrinkled and twisted around her body. She instantly tried to fix herself, running her hands through her hair and adjusting her clothes.

Draco continued to stare at her, and upon closer examination, he saw that there was a miniscule blush tingeing her cheeks, her lips were dark pink and slightly more plump than usual, and even though Draco knew she was apprehensive, her body was oddly relaxed. Draco had seen her in this sort of condition before, many times actually, and that was when he knew. Fuck!

“Granger, who were you with last night?” Draco asked coldly to her, and her eyes flew back to him, no longer apathetic but flashing with guilt.

She opened her mouth to talk but just as the first sound came out, she was interrupted by a loud thumping of someone jogging around the corner she had just come from. Everyone, including Granger, turned their attention to the direction the noise was coming from. Draco’s eyes narrowed and he felt himself sneer as Blaise came into view, a charming smile on his handsome face, his clothes in the same disarray as Granger’s, and something dark and silky in his hand. He ignored everyone else as he came to a halt next to Granger, her eyes wide with horror.

He leaned down, his mouth centimeters from her ear, his grin growing devilish.

“Hermione, in your hurry to leave me, you forgot your knickers.” He drawled smoothly, and loudly enough for all to hear, while handing her the now identified piece of cloth he was holding.

Granger kept her expanded eyes trained on Draco as he let out an involuntary growl after Blaise spoke.

Draco felt the rage surging through his body, but he willed himself not to do anything, recalling that Weasley and Potter were standing right there and it was best not to issue an Unforgivable Cruse with witnesses around. So Draco didn’t move or speak, not even when Blaise moved in closer and kissed Granger’s now flaming cheek, not even when Blaise brushed past him, his shoulder knocking into Draco’s, and not even when Blaise whispered in Draco’s ear “I told you I would fuck her again mate, and she was definitely better than your mother.” Then Blaise strolled down the hall and descended the stairs, whistling jauntily.

Draco’s hands were shaking violently, his eyes steel gray eyes still glued to the spot where Blaise had been standing next to Granger. As pissed off as he was, he knew he needed to get a grip. Granger seeing him lose control was on thing, but it was entirely another to slip in front of Weasley and Potter.

With Blaise gone as quickly as he came, all attention returned to Granger, her bright red cheeks clashing with the rest of her pale face, her dark brown eyes still huge and her mouth half open in shock. Draco shifted his gaze and saw that Weasley and Potter mirrored Granger’s expression, though theirs was slightly less horrified and more curious.

“Hermione,” Potter asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had enveloped the hallway, “were you with Zabini last night?”

Granger nodded slightly, here huge eyes still on Draco, and said not one word.

“Did you two shag?” Weasley blurted out, obviously too slow to figure it out for himself.

Granger mutely nodded again.

“I guess it could have been worse.” Potter said while shrugging.

Granger’s head jerked at the statement and she finally took her gaze from Draco’s to stare in disbelief at her best friend, but still said nothing. Draco on the other hand, could no longer contain himself. Fuck it!

“That’s it?” Draco yelled, looking at Potter. “‘It could have been worse.’” That’s all you are going to say to her? You fucking hypocrite, you don’t even blink an eye knowing she fucked Blaise, but when it comes to me, you fucking forbid it! Let me tell you, you fucking twat, that sodding sack of shite is just as Slytherin as I am, just as fucking bad. She is running around fucking my best mate like the school’s greatest slag and ‘it could have been worse’, but when she was fucking me you gave her a fucking ultimatum and make her break it off with me?”

“You were shagging Malfoy too?” Weasley asked Granger, obviously confused by Draco’s outburst.

“Yes.” She responded harshly.

“And you knew about it Harry?”

“Yes.” Potter replied just as harshly while staring angrily at Draco.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Weasley asked no one in particular, his face still contorted deeply with disorientation.

“Granger is a fucking whore, that’s what’s going on.” Draco roared.

“Hey!” all three of the damned friends shouted, but Granger’s was the loudest, and it caused Draco to tear his accusing glare from Potter and settle on her. He grew even more furious when he saw how offended she looked.

“Oh fuck you Granger!” he told her cruelly.

“No, fuck you Malfoy!” she cried back just as viciously, Potter and Weasley gasping at her expletive. “How can you call me a whore when you had a different girl on your arm, and probably your dick (another gasp) every day this week? If anyone is a slag, it’s you!”

“That’s where you are wrong!” Draco challenged. “I couldn’t fuck those trollops because all I can think about is you, and it fucked me up! I thought they would make me forget about you, I thought it would be easy, but you are always fucking there when I close my damned eyes. Why can’t you get out of my fucking head?”

“Do you think it was easy for me to forget about you?” she demanded.

“It obviously was seeing as how you just fucked my best mate…again!”

“I fucked him to forget about you, damn it!” Granger screamed at him.

“And stop gasping you two, yes, I say curse words and I know how to use them.” She added glancing sideways to Potter and Weasley before returning to shouting at Draco.

“I saw you with those slags Malfoy, and I was so sure you were fucking them. It pissed me off because you moved on without a second thought, and it made me madder, because no matter how much of a git you were being, I still wanted you, but that wasn’t going to happen. So I used Blaise; I used him to get back at you for forgetting about me and I used him to help me forget about you!”

“And did it work? Did you forget about me when you had your legs spread and Blaise’s cock inside you?” he asked frigidly.

“No.” she admitted quietly.

“Good! Remember this Granger: no one will ever make you forget me. My touch will always linger on your skin, your body will infinitely long for mine, my presence will eternally haunt you, and I will constantly be in the background of your consciousness. I am your fucking disease, just like you are mine. The only contrast, the one difference, is no matter what, you will forever be mine, you will belong to me for life, and I will never, ever, be yours. A filthy Mudblood slut like you could never possess any part of me other than my extreme hatred. I fucking detest you Granger!”

Draco turned on his heel, leaving a defeated Granger and befuddled Weasley and Potter staring after him. He had completely lapsed and not remembered they were there witnessing his and Granger’s revealing argument. He didn’t even care; they could all fucking piss off as far as he was concerned, the whole fucking lot of them.

He was almost down at the bottom of the stairs when he heard heavy footsteps hurrying after him and then his name being called out.

“Malfoy!”

Halting his descent, Draco turned and saw Potter darting down the stairs, his face no longer perplexed, but now serious and determined. He stopped when he stood a few steps above Draco, breathing a bit deeper from his sudden bout of activeness.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it Potter. That bitch brought it on herself, and so did your scarred arse.” Draco declared.

Potter cringed at the word “bitch”, but he said, “That isn’t why I caught up with you.”

“Then why?”

“What bout the meeting with Dumbledore?”

“What about it?”

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Potter asked, his voice coated in alarm.

“No. No matter how much I dislike you, especially now, it unfortunately doesn’t change my decision.” Draco told him, wishing his life wasn’t so damned important so he could just dismiss the whole fucking idea of joining the Order.

“When do you want to meet with him?”

“I don’t care. You set if up before school ends and let me know when it is.” Draco told him, his attitude indifferent to the whole thing.

“Okay.” He responded.

Draco turned and presented his back to his sworn enemy who was about to become his colleague. He was really going to actually have to spend time with this freak.

“Oh,” Draco said while making his way down the rest of the stairs. “I have one request.”

“What is that?”

Draco faced Potter once again and looked at him, his face deadly serious.

“You tell her to stay the fuck away from me.”

Potter nodded, his face stony but his eyes gleaming with comprehension.

“Okay.”

* * * * *

Draco entered the Slytherin common room 15 minutes later. It was empty except for a few people and he suspected most of his housemates were outside, enjoying the nice weather and the remaining end of exams cheer. Still fuming, Draco headed straight for the stairs leading to his room. He needed to seclude himself and regain his composure, mostly for the sake of everyone else’s safety. It wouldn’t be very acceptable if the Head Boy started shouting out the killing curse at random only because he was in a pissy mood.

He reached the threshold and was about to launch himself up the steps when the one person he hated more than Granger at the moment moved in front of him, blocking his path. Draco caught a whiff of soap and expensive cologne as he angrily stared at dark eyes and a proud smirk.

“Get the fuck out of my way you bastard.” Draco instructed roughly.

Blaise remained standing at the foot of the stairs, his smirk growing into a mocking grin.

“Don’t be angry Draco; I only followed through on what I said I would do. I gave you a fair warning.”

“Yes, you did, didn’t you? How did you ever get her to let you fuck her? She told me it would never happen again, but then, we both know what a brilliant liar she is.”

Blaise chuckled lightly.

“You’d be amazed what a lot of firewhiskey and a few well placed and eloquently said compliments could do. You know she is an enthusiast for wicked words, not to mention a good hard fucking. She was lonely and practically begging for it, and I was willing to give it to her.”

Draco’s fury shot through out his whole body, urging him to let go, let it break free. No, not yet, he wouldn’t give Blaise the satisfaction.

“She only used you last night, much like she did more than a month ago.” Draco informed him, hoping to hit a nerve. His hopes were crushed when Blaise laughed again.

“Oh I know, but it was well worth it. Imagine my surprise to see you in the hallway with Potter, Weasley, and Granger. You were looking for her I assume, and happened to run into them. I just loved seeing the look on your face when I handed her knickers off to her. That was evidence of luck if I ever saw it, and I was only going to brag to you and hope you took my word for it.”

A self-congratulatory Blaise watched Draco’s face lighten up with understanding,

“So you used her too, just to prove to me that you could fuck her again. Am I right?”

“You are, and I did. And I enjoyed every second of it immensely, and so did she.” He boasted.

“I don’t want to know, mate.” Draco said. He was already picturing Granger and Blaise fucking in his head, he sure as shite didn’t need details.

“No? You don’t want to know that she was more than thrilled at the idea of me fucking her? You don’t want to know that we fucked all through the night and on into the early morning?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He advised Blaise, his control was slipping.

“I know that you really don’t want to know that each and every time I made her come, and she did quite a lot, she screamed my name and pleaded for me to fuck her harder and faster. Know this though Draco, she wanted it just as much as I did, if not more.”

“Unless you want me to split open your lip again and give you a broken nose to match, you better get the fuck out of my way, you fucking prick. I am dangerously close to losing my temper, and I am positive that you don’t want to be in my line of sight when I do.”
Blaise stepped aside, still smiling audaciously. As Draco stormed up the flight of stairs he heard more laughter from below.

“I told you I would have her again mate. I suppose she’s not yours after all.”

Draco stopped at his door and looked down at his smiling friend.

“You had to get her drunk in order to have her again, you bloody idiot. You may have fucked her, but I can guarantee the whole time she was wishing it was me. You were just a weak arse substitute for me, and judging by your expression of denial, I am right. She will always be mine.” He said, now wearing the smug smile Blaise had abandoned.

“I may have been a substitute, but when she came, it was me who made her wet, it was my dick inside her cunt, and it was my name she moaned, not yours.”

Draco entered his room swiftly and slammed his door with all his might, relying on the small form of violence to ease his anger, but it did not. He turned his attention to his possessions that decorated the room. He had everything he wanted except for the one thing he felt he needed. He grabbed whatever object was nearest to him, a rememberall sent by his mother years ago, and threw it against the wall violently, destroying on contact. It still wasn’t enough.

“Fucking Mudblood!” He heaved his clock against another wall, breaking it into pieces.

“Stupid bitch!” Book after book hit his door with a thunderous bang.

“Dirty whore!” His fist met with the surface of his mirror, shattering it instantly, the shards cutting his hand. He still felt nothing but undeniable animosity.

Cursing and damning Granger each and every time he annihilated another one of his belongings, Draco only stopped when he had run out of objects to catapult across him room and found that aside from his desk, most of his furniture was too heavy to overturn. He stood in the middle of the floor, observing the damage he had done, his hand dripping blood onto the lush green carpet and breathing heavily.

And then he saw it, the pillow he had been sleeping on every night that still carried her intoxicating scent. Fuck cinnamon, fuck books, and fuck her! He withdrew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the silk covered bedding while shouting the Severing Charm. Feathers flew up into the air and rained slowly over his whole room.

Draco walked over to the edge of his bed and sat down, his wand still clutched in his hand. He had never let his rage break so freely before, and he never though he would see the say when it was a witch, a fucking Mudblood no loss, who would cause it.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Draco bellowed loudly.

He had been right, she was a disease. She had contaminated him, got under his skin. And he hated her for it, he hated her for attracting him in the first place, he hated her for letting him kiss her, he hated her for tasting so sweet, for being so desirable, he hated her for being the best fuck he had ever had, he hated her for being smart, witty, fiery, and beautiful. But he hated her most of all because as much as he wanted to kill the bitch right now, he still fucking wanted her. Yes, she was a disease, he was sick, and there was no way he would ever find a cure.


* * * * *

A/N~ There you have it. I know it was super long, but I had to get it all out there. It came out to be 21 pages on Word. I just loved writing the conversation between Draco and Harry as well as Draco’s little speech to Hermione. I hope you liked it too, and if you did, please don’t hesitate to review.

Monster bear hugs,

Roberta