Devil's Snare

Title: Devil's Snare

Rating: R

Word Count: 592

016: Who?

Paring: Harry/Draco

Summary: Harry is told to bring Draco to the light side of the war at any cost. Post-HBP, D/s, dubious consent, Post-Hogwarts, war!fic.

Disclaimer: Unoriginal characters and situations belong to JKRowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

Table of Contents found at http://www.livejournal.com/users/mahoganyhandle/9713.html

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Malfoy remained very still and silent when they returned from the garden. They had taken a shower before ending up in Malfoy's study. Bethany had made an appearance earlier, bringing tea and brandy and a freshly baked meat pie. Malfoy had poked at the food at Harry's behest, but took of the brandy liberally. Now he only stared blankly at the fire.

"Malfoy," Harry whispered. Malfoy turned to look at him, a distant look in his eyes. "Who are you protecting?" Harry had held off asking the question long enough. He couldn't protect Malfoy if he didn't know to what extremes Malfoy would go to protect someone else.

"I can't tell you that."

"You have to. It's imperative—"

"Don't ask me again!"

Harry hesitated, then quieted. Malfoy's gaze darkened and he began to fidget. Harry decided to change the subject, for mercy's sake. "Where's Belladonna?"

"I sent her away."

"Why?"

"Even you can't be that dense, Potter," Malfoy snapped scornfully. "My lover – her friend was brutally murdered, and she's only four." Harry nodded, not knowing what to say. "She's staying with Pansy until her birthday."

"Pansy… Parkinson?" Harry said hesitantly. Malfoy nodded sharply. "Her older brother is… quite the notorious Death Eater."

Malfoy gave Harry a strange, disbelieving look. "I assure you, Potter: her loyalties lay solely with me."

"Are you certain of that, Malfoy? Someone who I thought was on my side…." He trailed off, not wanting to go down that road, and especially not with Malfoy in such a state already. It would prove disastrous. "Just… be careful."

"As if you care," muttered Malfoy angrily. "Say what you want to say, Potter, and get it over with."

"Why don't you tell me, since you think you know me so well?"

Malfoy sneered as he refilled his sifter with brandy. The decanter drained and automatically refilled. Harry stared at it, then looked at Malfoy carefully. He was worryingly flush, though he gave no other indication that he was inebriated. It, perhaps, explained why he was being so abrupt and taciturn.

"Don't worry, Potter," he said in a hushed, breathy voice. "I know how it works. If I say or do anything to compromise your precious Order my father bears the brunt of your wrath."

And what could Harry possibly say to that? It certainly was true.

"There is nothing or no one that would make you betray your father."

Malfoy gave him another odd look, then laughed, plopping down gracelessly in his chair, liquor sloshing over the sides of the glass onto his fingers. He cleaned the mess with his handkerchief, all the while laughing.

"I would betray my father for a great many reasons, Potter…. Why, I say, if he gets wind of what you're up to with me, he'll betray himself for those same reasons. But you wouldn't understand that, would you? You're Hero Potter, the only one of us wretched creatures with an actual purpose in life. Your road's set. It almost makes me pity you, but I don't pity anyone, and never have, and certainly shan't start for you."

Sighing heavily, Harry slouched in his seat, letting his head fall back against the cushion, staring blankly up at the ceiling. "What are you on about, Malfoy?"

"You think you know me, Potter. You think you can tell what I'll do from one moment to the next. You think you know why I take what you give me and give what you want, but you're wrong. Make no mistake: you are the only pawn in this war."