Dark Times for Draco Malfoy

The Plot
She wore black.She had dark rings beneath her eyes. She wore her hair in a tight knot at the back of her head. It accentuated her tired and dismayed features. She had developed a permanent frown on her forehead. Her hands dangled lifelessly from the sides of the armchair. She wore a weak smile. She had lost weight. It didn't become her. She had become unappealing. These few months and she had grown into an old woman.

«More tea?» she asked the young lady sitting across the small, round coffee-table. The young woman, who also smiled faintly, replied: «Please.»

“Thank you for coming on such short notice. How are your parents?” the woman wearing black asked politely.

“They're in excellent health.”

“Good.” The older woman said. She folded her hands in her lap and eyed the younger, dark-haired woman. With the pleasantries done with, they could start talking serious business.

The light in the library room was dim, enlightened only by candles and oil lamps. The curtains were drawn shut, and the whole room had a smell of incarceration. The young woman glanced at the fireplace. It was alive with fire, but lent no warmth. She felt as though she was sitting inside a tomb.

“Professor Snape” the woman began, “has been most kind. He has searched for Draco, but he has been unsuccessful. I know not whether my son is alive or dead.” Narcissa paused. She swallowed. The admission cost her dearly. Her eyes moistened, glistening with ready-to-shed tears. She held her head high, battling internally to seem dignified.

“I can only imagine how you – as his mother – must feel. It is – difficult – to watch him waste away, nervous of his own shadow, knowing that soon it will come to an end. I wish only to have dear memories of my dear Draco.”

“I want more than just memories!” Narcissa Malfoy whispered breathlessly. Her eyes widened at the subject she now spoke about. “I want my Draco, in one way or another. If I cannot have him, then I must at least have his son! A little piece of Draco! A blond boy with Draco's eyes!” She spoke breathlessly and fast, very much excited and passionate. Life returned to her grief-stricken eyes.

Pansy Parkinson hesitated. She seemed taken by Narcissa's words. She looked as if she was about to cry. She held on to the cup of tea and the plate it was perched on, in her lap. She looked dignified. She held her legs collected and to the left side, her posture worthy of any regal princess. She was wearing a two-piece dress with a high bodice. She had arranged her hair in a formal manner, and just behind her ear she had attached a black fabric rose with a hair needle. She wore a moderate and very becoming layer of make-up. Miss Parkinson had become quite the lady. She thought of the Vanishing Cabinet and how she was nearly there. Just a little more fine tuning.

“It would have been such an honour” she began, staring at Narcissa with big, moist eyes, “to have Draco's baby! To stand by his side to the very last! To hold his hand in his final hour” she sobbed. Narcissa managed a smile through her veil of tears. She nodded solemnly at Pansy.

“My thoughts exactly! You and Draco are such a lovely match. A perfect, pure-blood union. All students return to Hogwarts tomorrow. And should my Draco be amongst them, I will be prepared to give much to see his legacy continued!” Narcissa whispered. She looked like she was sitting on nails – she was on the edge of her seat, her hands still resting in her lap. Her tea was getting cold. “My grandson and his mother will never lack anything. I'll see to that. Under the new reign of our dark lord, I will make sure you are remembered for your efforts!” Narcissa was blooming with pride and passion as she spoke. She could virtually hear the little blond boy giggling whilst running through the halls of the mansion. The ceaseless tapping of small feet hurrying along.
“More tea?!” she asked eloquently. Her voice was shaking. She glanced over to the empty armchair of her husband. She wore black.

Our Hero Returns
She waited impatiently together with Harry, Luna, Ginny and Neville. Standing by the doorway leading in to the Great Hall, Hermione was making sure no one escaped her notice. But through the flood of students returning after Easter, she could not see him. The worst mass of pupils found their seats and settled. A few last students hurried inside, and then the Entrance Hall was empty save those who waited by Hermione. After a while, Luna and Ginnyt went inside. Harry, Neville and Ron lingered.

Harry had spent the Easter holiday thinking about Hermione and Draco. They were such an unlikely match, and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had learnt to hate Draco over the course of the five past years, but now everything had been turned up side down. Didn't Harry owe it to Hermione to at least try to form a closer bond – a friendship of sorts – with Draco? The sickening image of the rape the eudaimon had exposed Draco to on the balcony in front of everybody still lingered fresh in his memory. Not to mention Ronald's jealousy attack on Draco in the boy's bathroom on the sixth floor. Ron had not paid Hermione a second glance since they'd arrived by train earlier that day. The red-head was brooding, his eyes dark and there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth which didn't bode well. Harry had seen it many times before. It meant that Ron had troubled thoughts.

Ron Weasley had spent Easter at home, glad to be rid of Lavender so he could finally think. And think he did. He thought about it day and night. Hermione in bed with Draco Malfoy. He couldn't make up his mind about who he was more angrier with: Hermione for giving herself away like that – or Draco Malfoy for seducing her. At the end of Easter, Ron had made several conclusions: It was Hermione he loved, not Lavender. Did he hate Hermione for getting pregnant with Draco's baby? Yes. Did he hate Draco for impregnating Hermione? Yes. Ron felt stabbed in the back. He was disappointed. How had it all come to this? He had fancied Hermione for a long time, but never seen the truth until it was too late. He didn't blame himself for not acting upon his emotions for Hermione. Oh no. The blame was Draco's. Draco was an insensible man. He had not seen that Ron was first in line to woo Hermione. He'd just gone and helped himself, like always. Ron had convinced himself that Draco and his demon had somehow tricked Hermione into the situation. Draco Malfoy was and always would be trouble. It simply goes with the territory when your father's a Death Eater and you admit to being a Death Eater yourself. It would only be justice if Hermione was turned against Draco. It would only be justice if she left his side and refused to talk to him ever again. It would only be justice if the child never had existed in the first place. He was convinced he saw Draco for what he really was; A sadistic, manipulative Death Eater whose greatest wish was to subdue and mould Hermione into something she would hate to be. He'd spent the entire trip on the train thinking about how he would change things. About what he would say and how he would say it. He couldn't accept the thought of Hermione bearing Draco's child. It was a sickening thought. To Ron, she had been tainted.

To initiate his plan, he started chatting with her while she stood by the gateway overlooking the entrance hall.

“He's probably not going to come” Ron told her casually, trying to appear friendly and casual. “Maybe he sneaked past you. He could already be inside” Ron said, knowing very well that Draco still wasn't there.

“He will come. He promised.” Hermione tried to sound confident, but her voice shattered at the end. No one was convinced, least of all herself.

Hermione had spent Easter feeling uptight and worried sick about Draco and their future together. She had looked for signs. She had been sitting by the phone, she had been staring out of the window looking for owls. And then Draco's owl had reached her along with a short message which had both settled her qualms but also unsettled her anew. It had dawned on her that if she were to return to Hogwarts – with or without Draco – she would need protection. She had studied the Internet and library books on Demonology, and faith in God was one of the key elements in fighting a demon. Hermione was not particularly religious. Her parents had seen to that – making sure that she saw all the logical flaws of Christianity and world religions, attacking difficult questions from a scientific point of view. It had left Hermione with nothing. The nights had been spent writhing aimlessly in her own bed or when asleep she'd been dreaming of her wedding with Draco. And dream-Draco had been eerie, sombre and evil looking. No smiles, no happy cheers. Just an evil, lifeless doll, pale and blond with dark circles beneath his eyes. A Death Eater. A demon's servant. A malicious, cold-blooded wife-beater. A soulless Slytherin who only married her so he could subdue her and torment her until the end of her days. Marrying her of duty. Not of love. Hermione had doubts. She felt like a pawn in the eudaimon's game. Draco was the other pawn. Like two dummies in the hands of a spoiled child, they'd been brought together. The fragile bond between them could easily be severed. They were both helpless against the black-winged demonic menace.

She felt her spirits drop. She had feared this moment. There were no students left, and she would have to admit to herself that Draco wasn't coming. Her nightmare was seemingly coming true: She was left to fend for her own. Pregnant at sixteen. A Mudblood carrying the child of an outcast pure-blood – ! Wallowing in her grief, she gasped loudly as a figure came hurrying from the main hallway. He was out of breath, clad in the same woollen jacket he'd been wearing as they'd said good-bye. Wind had ruffled his hair. He let go off his trunk and walked straight towards her. His cheeks were flushed with rosy reds from a fast walk. His hat was crushed in his left fist, and he flailed out his arms to greet her in one big embrace. Draco Malfoy looked stunningly alive. He smiled widely at her, his face a vivid mask of happiness and relief. Closing the space between them, he crushed her in a tight embrace, moaning her name as she sobbed his, relieved to be together with him again. She looked into his eyes. They sparkled with happiness. He seemed well, not weary. Not battered or broken, and this puzzled her. Where he had been and what he had been doing and with whom was a great mystery as he seemed radiant with energy. He held himself with an aura of confidence she'd never seen before during the sixth year. Before she had time to think any more about it, he pressed his lips to her. She smelled salty sea on his skin and he tasted of lemon, ham and spice. He had eaten, but she didn't know with whom or where. She was grateful for the devoted kiss. It told her his feelings for her hadn't changed. He held her for the longest time, never breaking the kiss once.

Neville watched the scene of the lovers unfold before them. He glanced at Harry and Ron to see their reactions. Neville had spent Easter holiday together with his parents and his grandmother. For the first time in more than ten years, he'd been at a proper family vacation. And his parents had poured on him their endless love. They'd spoken much about Draco Malfoy and the demon. Neville's mother Alice had gone into details about things she'd remembered from the healing song afterwards. She'd told him that during her awakening during the song, it had felt as if she'd been conscious, looking out from the confines of her body and at the Draco Malfoy who had been kneeling before her, holding her hands, singing to her and willing her out from her limbo. And Alice remembered thinking to herself that this – this was not a human though it looked like one. And all though he had been eerie, he had been sincere and benevolent. Telling her son this, she had looked at him and declared that she thought that the eudaimon could not be all together evil. He could have assumed his true form once inside her cell. But he hadn't. He'd stayed as Draco Malfoy, as if sending her a message. And a part of her had understood it then, that the real Draco was somehow responsible for the healing of their minds. What had baffled her more than anything was that the true Draco Malfoy had denied everything, not wanting the credit. How unlike a Slytherin. Sitting up with them until late each night, they'd listened while Neville had talked about his life and how it had been to have parents but to be an orphan. Each night Neville had gone to bed thinking about Draco. About how Draco had changed, and what he was going through. And Neville had prayed for Draco to still be alive. He had thought about Hermione. And Neville had concluded that if Draco failed to show up as term resumed, Neville would do what he could for Hermione and the baby, taking Draco's place to the best of his ability. If a little piece of Draco could be spared, then Neville owed it to the Slytherin to do what he could. Draco had given him his life back.

Neville didn't just shake hands with the Slytherin as he humbly approached the spot where the three male Gryffindors stood. He opened his arms and caught Draco in an hearty embrace, telling him it was good to see him again. Harry seemed somewhat reserved, but extended his hand without hesitation. Ron had disappeared inside.

Professor Snape was all of the sudden there. With icy voice he told them all to go inside the Great Hall. He wanted a word with the young man. The head of the Slytherin House drew Draco aside. They were alone in the entrance hall. Looking into the older man's face, Draco was puzzled to see Snape's face soften up. The professor rested his hands on Draco's shoulders, hesitated then drew him close. He held Draco tight, sighing. It was a tender, fatherly embrace. Hoping no one saw them, Draco returned the sentiment and put his arms around Snape's neck, closing the space between them.

“I found you, but the barrier was too strong – !” the professor spoke hushed.

“I was looked after with care. I am his servant now.”

“I thought something like that might have happened.”

“I am to hunt demons. And to – to kill for him...!”

“I have watched you. From a distance. He will be a much better master than Voldemort ever could be. This is the best outcome you could ever have hoped to achieve –! Your mother – she despairs.”

“Why? Because I've got a new master or because I might not have returned? Or because I returned?”

“Because of Miss Granger. Beware.” Snape lifted his right hand to comb his fingers gently through Draco's hair with a bit more than just fatherly affection. “She wishes to snare you and trap you back at Malfoy Manor. Her sister and Lord Voldemort are slowly suffocating her with their uncivilized behaviour. She's looking for a knight in shining armour. Preferably one who is related to her. As he couldn't be any less than … pure blood.”

“Really? Knight in shining armour? I have been told that someone is to set loose demons at Hogwarts. I couldn't possibly abandon my post just to help her out of the unfortunate pickle she's put herself in. She should have thought about that before she married my father.”

“You're not – coming to her aid then?”

“I can't jeopardize the lives of hundreds of students, not to mention the target of the demons just to help her out of the bed she herself made. It's out of the question! Now, excuse me, professor!” Draco told Severus half annoyed. He nodded courteously before he strode off to the Great Hall. Severus Snape lingered for a long time. He watched Draco disappear into the Great Hall.

Only when the ex-Slytherin was out of sight did a familiar shape move from the shadows nearby. Professor Dumbledore moved forward to join his colleague, his face serious and vivid at the same time.

“This is more than expected, Severus! The wonders of Polyjuice potion!” The old headmaster clasped his hands merrily together. Severus gave him a quick smirk in reply to the comment about the result of their recent collaboration.

The Demon's Bane had been on Dumbledore's mind ever since he'd first learned of Draco's misfortune. He'd felt for the boy, not just because of the boy's fate but because of the waste of fine wizard material. His efforts to reason with the eudaimon hadn't been completely fruitless, in fact, Dumbledore felt he'd established an understanding. The eudaimon had slowed down his pace, biding his time with Draco, the way they'd agreed. Then, the eudaimon had announced he would be bringing Draco with him for Easter. Dumbledore had set aside all other matters, even his quest for the missing Horcruxes. His efforts had provided him with the Demon's Bane. Snape had contributed with surveillance and a large potion of Polyjuice. Dumbledore and Snape had travelled to Eoropaidh, where the opportunity had presented itself when two possessed Muggles had walked into the same store as Draco.


Hermione rested her head against Draco’s collarbone, and Draco returned the sentiment by smelling her hair. He'd hesitantly seated himself next to her at the Gryffindor table, mostly because Harry and Neville had been relentless with the invitation. In Harry's eyes, Draco could almost have read; 'Sit down or die'. He felt the weight of the Demon’s Bane and the cold metal against his calf. It was strapped to his leg. Scanning the great hall, he could sense no trace of a demon. Yet.

“Well, you've certainly got the Slytherins talking” Neville shot Draco a smile and nodded over to the Slytherin table. Draco turned his head and gazed over his shoulders. Crabbe and Goyle were sticking their heads together, eyeing him and chatting away, both Slytherins looking grim. Zabini wasn't eating at all. He was looking daggers at Draco as well. A little further away, Draco saw Pansy Parkinson. She was stirring contemplatively in a cup of tea. Meeting his gaze, she smiled. It went cold down Draco's back. Whatever had possessed him to date her during the previous years? He turned his head frontwise again, relishing in the warmth of the company of the Gryffindors. Neville and Harry were joking about the food, and they attempted to drag Draco into their ridiculousness. Not knowing if it would be prudent of him to participate in such folly when he didn't belong to their house, Draco only smiled and glanced admiringly at Hermione. Their gazes met, and he watched her finish the rest of her supper. Glancing down at her still flat belly, he told himself to be patient. She wasn't more than just a few weeks on the way. Already he longed to know whoever was in there, and the thought of her being with child was more than enough to make him want to shout out to everyone that he was to be a father. Pride mixed with anxiety swelled in his chest. And with it, series of questions which needed to be addressed: How would he be able to protect her around the clock? Where was she supposed to sleep at night? Alone, in her dorm? Unprotected? And what about classes? Potions class wasn't without its perils. Neither was Defence Against the Dark Arts. And what of Harry, Ron and Neville? What would happen if they found out? How would they respond? He decided it would be best to leave it Hermione to tell them if she felt like it. His lips would be sealed. The thought of employing their help crossed his mind. It was tempting to let them in on the secret of Hermione's pregnancy, but Draco was unsure of Harry in particular. Coming to the conclusion that it probably wouldn't sit well with Harry, Draco ignored the idea. He would be left to fend for his woman, alone.

They went to his room afterwards. It was cold there, and Draco flicked his wand, adding warmth to the room and flames to the candles. Having done that, he turned to face her and she immediately flung her arms around his neck, sealing her lips to his. He embraced her passionately, drinking in the sensation of having her so close. Amidst the kisses, her hands sought the belt around his waist. Her fingers tested the buttons on his shirt, searching eagerly for a way past his clothes. He allowed her to undress him. Draco wasn’t sure if this was the right way to do it. There were so many things they ought to speak about. But he was torn between the logic telling him to stop and talk to her instead and the throbbing erection in his pants telling him to get a move on while there’s still a chance. Hermione didn’t look like she wanted to sit down and have a quiet conversation, so Draco ignored the small voice in the back of his head and shut his eyes. Doing so, the image of Melchior appeared before his mind’s eye, and it wasn’t just that – but the thousand fold times he’d lay with Melchior during Easter. And Draco realised something: Hermione’s attempts at arousing him were feeble compared to Melchior’s. Her hands roved his body, undid the buttons of his shirt and revealed naked flesh, but they failed to make him shiver beneath their touch the way Melchior’s did. She kissed him again and again, and he returned her kisses fiercely, placing one arm around her waist. With his other hand, he gently caught hold of her neck and closed the space between their bodies.

She caught glimpses of his body. Candle light played on slightly tanned skin. The scent of sea was stronger on the skin of his chest. He was a naked sea god standing before her. She could feel his erection through the fabric of her skirt. Holding her close to him, she breathed and tasted Draco Malfoy. He was fierce, unsatisfied and determined. Grasping her bum with both hands, he lifted her up. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep as he entered her. She couldn't remember him being so strong. His thighs bulged with strength beneath her. He walked them over to a wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Pinned between Draco and the wall, she gasped as he started to thrust ferociously into her. It was only afterwards that she saw the dagger. They sat naked together in his bed, wrapped in his sleeping blanket. She held the knife breathlessly, surveying the craftsmanship whilst Draco told her how he'd acquired it and the eudaimon's view on it. Then he told her about the deal he'd struck with Melchior, and the deeds he was to perform. He told her about Melchior's view on their relationship and how it would in theory work. He hesitated, watching Hermione leave his bed. A frown creased her forehead. She dressed in silence. She stood.

“I'll be doing the bidding of a dark lord, Hermione, I know that. But it's not Voldemort!” Draco rose from the bed and walked over to kiss her still naked shoulders.

“It's not that” she replied quietly. “It's – it's just that I just realized something. I will be sharing you with him, whether I like it or not.”

“Isn't it better this way? At least, I won't have to come back to you all bloody and battered. Not by his hand. You won't have to worry about Voldemort, or the Death Eaters anymore. Melchior has guaranteed you safety. Please, Hermione, trust me. Have trust in us – have some faith that it will be all right.

“I will try” she whispered, and turned to embrace him. They stood for a long time.

Life with Draco Malfoy
Draco felt alone. He scarce sensed Melchior's presence. And if he detected hints of him, it was in other and more inaccessible parts of the castle. Draco once caught a whiff of him in the direction of Dumbledore's office, but he never learned the reason why. Dumbledore was as usual, and there were no opportunities for Draco to talk with the headmaster. Nothing was amiss except the still strengthened security around the campus. Melchior had talked about this – about how he had business to attend and that Draco would have to bear the burden of protecting Hermione alone. But Hermione often told him that she dreamt of an eudaimon, and how she felt that she was being watched in her sleep. She said she felt safe. The dream-eudaimon which appeared by her bedpost seemed passive and benevolent. And it wasn't Melchior. Draco watched Hermione's lips part in a lop-sided smile as she explained what the eudaimon looked like: He was clad in crimson leather. He had long flowing brown-red locks and black wings, and somehow she associated him with sushi. He was quite handsome, with marvellous chiselled features. He always left her alone, and if she gazed upon him, he would smile at her, silently telling her to go back to sleep. It made Draco think of Melchior's second brother, the one whom he'd never met: Marian. Was it possible that Melchior had sent Marian in his stead? Draco chose to believe so.

There was a eudaimon watching over Hermione. Draco felt reassured that he had a back-up of sorts in that, enabling him to at least sleep at night. Hermione was thrilled to find that albeit they'd started out in the wrong end – for having the child of a man she'd previously despised wasn't really the starting point of a lifelong relationship – Draco seemed determined to make amends. He held her hand in all the right situations. He smiled and kissed her when it was suitable, and he treated her as his girlfriend when decorum allowed it. She was glad to find that there were multiple sides to Draco Malfoy: He enjoyed to sit with her at a balcony and hold hands, watching the sun set over the Dark Forest. He could sit with her in the half dark at the Three Broomsticks, sipping aimlessly at a Butterbeer, stroking her cheek, gazing silently into her eyes for long, long minutes. Alone with him in his room or in any other private chamber, she watched him transform into an insatiable, passionate lover who guided her with firm hand, knowing exactly how and what he wanted from her. He was a seasoned lover and in his arms, she felt like a maiden every single time. And she loved it. He asked her out on dates, he dined her and danced with her, doing all the things a proper boyfriend should do. And she fell for him time and again, her doubts swept away and her fears destroyed. Her belly grew and she began to enjoy her pregnancy until another week later. Until morning sickness.

So dazzled by the generous way he treated her, she had been repressing the negative aspects about Draco's personality. When morning sickness set in, the glamour faded and she suddenly saw him in a different light. Draco was a silent man. A part from Neville, he hardly spoke to anyone. He never talked to Harry, and would look away or become suddenly unavailable whenever Harry made an effort to engage the former Slytherin in conversation. He hardly acknowledged Ginny, and ignored Ron completely. Hermione caught Draco talking with Pansy more and more often. It made her sick her stomach with fear every time, and it made her angry to see Draco being so friendly with his former girlfriend. Pansy was a Death Eater. She had the hungry stare of a tigress, especially when she laid eyes on Draco. And Hermione began to feel more than anything that she wanted to kick that girl's Slytherin ass. These were the sort of thoughts running through her head every time she crouched over the sink in the girl's lavatory, vomiting her breakfast. Fear festered in her heart then. Fear that Pansy would somehow take Draco from her.

Hermione pondered over Draco's ability to split his focus. When attending class, Draco would often ignore her and place himself away from her. It was almost like in the days before they'd gotten together, and he would stay away from her for reasons she couldn't comprehend. He stayed focused from beginning till end of class, hardly paying her any attention. Some times he left without waiting for her. Later, he would dress up in training gear and leave the grounds without telling her, leaving her alone for hours at a time during evenings. Checking his room, she often found his bed vacant. She knew deep inside that this was something she would have to get used to. He couldn't be owned or told what to do. He was not 'cuddle-material' in the sense that he could only take so much of romantic stuff. After that, Draco simply needed a bit of self time. He was an independent being with different priorities. And – in the end it was better to have someone who was Lavender Brown's direct opposite. But when Draco began to return from his exercises covered in different types of blood including his own, all bruised and out of breath, Hermione began to seriously wonder what he really was doing when he was all alone out there in the dark woods. He excused himself with that it was best if she didn't know. It was a part of his 'job' and he went as far as to explain to her that it was just 'training' for bigger assignments. It was an explanation Hermione had difficulty swallowing. It annoyed her that he kept this part of himself from her. How was she to trust him if she didn't know every aspect of his life? She told him flat out once, and Draco Malfoy would look at her with a face cut from stone. A face she'd learned to hate the previous five years. She would stand over the sink or sit by the toilet seat spilling her guts, feeling that her relationship with that blond git wasn't going anywhere. He was a cold, insensitive bastard.

It was late May when Hermione sat at the breakfast table, staring at her breakfast for the umpteenth time, not finding motivation anywhere to eat even a bite of her slice of toast. She was close to tears. Draco had been away the previous night, and when she'd gone off to bed, his room had still been empty. Where had he been? She imagined the most horrible things; Draco in bed with Pansy Parkinson, or with Melchior. Draco killing someone with the Avada Kedavra curse. The great hall was slowly emptying of people. Harry still sat opposite her, silently eyeing her. Neville gulped down the last of his breakfast tea. Just then, Draco wandered by – for once in conversation with someone. He touched Hermione's shoulder and asked her how she felt. He might just as well have put gasoline on a pyre. Shooting him an icy stare, feeling really queasy, she got up. The process of getting to her feet and crossing the bench made her seriously dizzy. It didn't stop her from noticing that he was wearing something different.

“Don't touch me!” she hissed, “this is all your fault!” She pressed on, not caring if the tears fell from her eyes.

“I – uh, wanted to talk to you, but if – !” Draco began, completely put off by Hermione's strong reaction. He eyed Harry for a brief second. “Somewhere private.”

“Whatever you've got to say to Hermione you can say right here” Harry told him sternly, making it abundantly clear whose side he was on. Ever since Easter, their fragile friendship had seemingly obliterated. Draco couldn't think why.

Swallowing his annoyance over Harry's constant hostility, Draco sat down on the bench. Hermione followed suit, eyeing him with a cold stare. Inside she cursed herself for having used the one accusation she'd promised herself she'd never throw at Draco.

“I'm sorry to see you suffer like this. But I don't know how to help you. All I know is that I promised you I would do whatever it takes – !” he told her nervously, fidgeting with something cupped inside his hands. He eyed her almost shyly with soft blue-grey eyes.

“ – how come you're wearing a Slytherin tie?!” she shrieked, instantly regretting the comment. The tears warped her vision, but she seized the green and silver tie and wrenched the knot open with shaky fingers as if she was untying a snake from around his neck. She threw the tie upon the table. He had started out after Easter with fresh clothes. Black and grey vests without the colours of any house. Black ties to match. Draco had made an effort to distance himself further from the house of Slytherin, much to Hermione's content. This was a slap in her face.

“I … uh, I didn't have a clean one this morning...!” Draco looked for the words while looking astounded by her reaction. Why was she so upset?

“Ever heard of Scourgify?!” she barked at him – again regretting the harsh words. What was happening to her? Why was she acting like a grumpy old hag? She sobbed while she commenced to undo her own tie. Draco watched whilst she placed it around his neck and folded the hem of his shirt back in place. She looked at him, terrified at what she'd just done.

She had promised herself she wouldn't try to own him.

He looked away, then he met her gaze again. He had produced something from his fist, and it was currently dangling from his raised fingers. Hermione eyed the gold. She heard Ginny gasp. From somewhere untold, a host of female students suddenly materialized, and was now drawing close to where Harry and Neville was sitting. Shocked at the sudden gathering of females, Harry felt himself go ruddy.

“The Heart and the Hand!” they gasped, swooning loudly.

“What's the Hea –!” Harry began, but he decided to let it go as the obvious dumb-witted question was met with several snorts from affronted female students standing behind him.

“I know I'm not an easy man to live with –!” Draco told her, swallowing hard. But before he could think of anything more to say, she had glued her lips to his, accepting the golden chain with the small golden heart and the ring at the same time.

There was a revered silence only equivalent to the silence when a groom kissed his newly wed bride for the first time. The women held their breaths. Harry thought 'oh please' to himself. Neville's lips parted in a lopsided smile, and the Gryffindor looked all dreamy.

Breaking the kiss, Draco drew her near. He gazed into her moist brown eyes, stroked her cheek with warm fingers. “I'll do whatever it takes” he whispered to her. Their lips so close they almost touched. “I'll quit school for you. I'll get a job, I'll stay at home so you can finish your education and have a career. It's not as if my life's going anywhere, except with you.” He spoke tenderly and quiet. The words were intended for Hermione only, and he gazed into her eyes with focus, ignoring his surroundings. She gazed at him, at her Gryffindor tie around his neck, and she realised she had nothing to fear.

The heart of every girl watching them was beating faster. They all blushed and held their breaths, silently observing something akin to a miracle. It was high class drama happening there and then, and it was a proposal out of a dream. They watched as Draco Malfoy kissed his fiancée tenderly, and they all instantly wished themselves in Hermione's stead.


Ginny had to explain it to him afterwards. She looked accusingly at Harry when he'd popped the question, but she told him anyway to put him out of his misery.

“It's a marriage proposal, silly.”

“You mean to say that they're engaged?” Harry couldn't believe what he heard.

“Only the boy can do it to make it binding; The gold heart symbolizes that he gives her his heart and his love. The ring symbolises that he offers her his hand in marriage. It's the old aristocratic way of a proposal. And just so very, very romantic! Don't they just look fabulous together?”

“I'm not sure. I think they're a complete mismatch.”

“You're beginning to sound like Ron.” Ginny remarked. “He's not going to be pleased when he hears of this. I think he's still in love with Hermione. And you could make an effort to try and get to know Draco, you know”

“I have been making an effort. It's not my fault he's so hostile” Harry sighed.

“And exactly how have you been making an effort?”

“I've … I've nodded to him and stuff. You know, talked about the weather, just making conversation.”

“Just making conversation? I don''t know if you've noticed recently, but every time you open your mouth to speak to Draco you always end up reminding him of the fact that he was a Death Eater and subsequently your enemy. Either that or you insinuate that he's not caring about Hermione.”

“I – I just can't shake the feeling that he knows more than he's letting on.”

“You're being paranoid, Harry Potter. I swear, some times it's like you go after Draco out of old habit. Not because he's hiding something but because you can.”

“That's ridiculous. I'm not the one being hostile here, it's Draco! And – and you!” Harry told her, sensing he was losing the argument. Ginny came to an abrupt halt, swivelled around on her heal and hit Harry in the head with a book. Harry sighed. “You're right, I'm sorry. I am a git. And the Chosen One. Can't be a good combination.”

“Of course it isn't. Now come along, we're late for class.” Ginny thundered. She set off with Harry leaping to catch up with her.


Master and Servant
He could feel his strength growing. Dressing up in black sweatpants, a black comfortable sweater and shoes, Draco went for another exercise. The woods compelled him. The dark energies beckoned him. He heard Melchior whisper to him on the wind once more, and this time he knew they were to meet. He fastened the dagger to his calf and leapt off.

The Dark Forest swallowed him as he jogged down one of the many paths leading inwards. It was noon, and the elder students had lunch combined with a free period or two. Draco used his either with Hermione or he went out jogging. He was feeling extra tense this time, knowing Melchior waited for him.

He caught sight of the eudaimon down by the small lake of the forest. It was the spot where it had all begun, when Melchior – in the shape of Lucius – had lured him down to the shore. Coming face to face with Melchior, Draco smiled, then averted his gaze and assumed a kneeling position in front of the eudaimon.

“Finally, you're beginning to learn manners” Melchior said with a grin, his voice brimming with half-mockery. The half demon was clad in a beautifully sown tunic embedded with gold threads, looking far more dignified than he'd done back at the Lighthouse Farm.

“And how fares my young servant?”

Draco raised his head to gaze at Melchior. “Hermione's given her consent to marry me.”

“You don't waste time, do you?” Melchior didn't look pleased. “You failed to answer my question. How fares my slave?” He folded his arms above his chest.

“The studies are going well. And I go exercising almost every night. There's –, I mean, there are creatures in these woods I had no idea existed. Undead. Lost souls –!”

“The Dark Forest hold many secrets, including a long list of unfortunate fates. It does well as a training ground for you. I've been watching your progress. Your kills aren't very clean. You fight not so half bad but too often you let your fears get the better of you. Now, answer my question.”

Draco hesitated. “It's – it's Harry.”

“Harry Potter?”

“I can't explain it. It's like – like his eyes are on me all the time.”

“It's Marian's doing. He's bored, and looking for a little boy-on-boy action. Since you're unobtainable, Marian's put a jinx on Potter, making him fall for you. You should have him in your bed in no time, should you wish it. It would certainly please my brother.”

“I don't want Harry Potter in my bed! I want you! Or Hermione!”

Melchior didn't answer Draco's sharp retort. Instead he produced a black silk handkerchief and tossed it to his right side. It grew as it was still in midair, and by the time it settled on the ground, it had grown twenty times as big, settling neatly outstretched. “If you please, mister Malfoy” Melchior gestured for Draco to move to the silk. There was no mistaking the desire glowing in his eyes.

“I will not sleep with Harry!” Draco continued resentfully while he undid his pants. “I will not. I can't stand the thought of him touching me.”

“Then don't let him. The decision is entirely yours” Melchior answered. He settled his lips upon Draco's drawing in the scent of his servant. There was a faint smell of Melchior on Draco. It had been too long. He pressed his hips against Draco's flesh, and he felt his servant respond by mimicking the motion, bucking against the eudaimon. Already being hard, Melchior didn't hesitate to have Draco lay down on the silk sheet. His servant obeyed willingly, eagerly spreading his legs as Melchior moved between his thighs. They continued to kiss – with more ferocity as the heat between them grew in strength. Draco moaned, sensing that this was ten times stronger, ten times more right than when he lay with Hermione. In the back of his mind a voice cajoled: 'He's brainwashed you, he's brainwashed you!' Draco could still remember the time when Melchior's touch sickened him. He felt a pang of guilt as Hermione's face flashed up in his mind.

“You're going to have to get used to this situation” Melchior told him softly. “It's not adultery. Consider us together as a part of your job description.”

Draco inhaled deeply as Melchior bent down. The half demon wrapped his arm around Draco's waist, locking the youth's slender flesh in a tight grip. Folding his fingers around the base of Draco's awakening member, the eudaimon took him into his mouth and sucked greedily. Draco gasped. His immediate reaction was to avoid the sensation, but remembering who he was and who he was with, he bucked his hips instead. He shut his eyes tight, revelling in the sensation of being reunited with his master. Yes, this was in deed the way things ought to be. It was a mystery to him why Melchior enjoyed the taste of Draco's sperm. The thought was however brief, for Draco lay still, gasping and moaning quietly as he was drowned in the sensation of having this creature of darkness encompass him. When Draco orgasmed into the half-demon's mouth, he felt as if he was ejaculating out of his body and into this entity which sought to dominate all of him. The eudaimon didn't hesitate to penetrate Draco. Burying himself to the hilt at once, Draco moaned and relished in the sensation of being filled. He couldn't quite shake the awkward feeling it was to be on the premises of Hogwarts. He almost felt guilty for not being afraid and brimming with terror. He could almost picture Harry's accusing face, asking him how he could be enjoying this. Melchior came so swiftly it was almost over before it had begun. Draco caught a glance of the black treetops swaying in the wind, silhouetted against the afternoon sky, before his vision was blurred by large black feathers completely obscuring his view. A canopy of black feathers. Draco felt convinced he was on the right path. He wanted to belong to Melchior. He wanted to do his bidding. He wanted Hermione and the life she had to offer. He wanted to be her husband and a father to their child. The were so many reasons to go on living. So many things to be happy about. Draco felt alive. Melchior commenced to kiss him fiercely afterwards, before he finally said: “This won't do. I'll need to join with you again, soon.”


It turned out that Hermione was a practical witch. Before bedtime, she had swivelled her wand and stretched the width of Draco's bed. She had made sure that the mattress was properly stuffed, making it nice and comfy. She made everything bigger and better. Draco frowned as she swung her wand again, and the walls of his sombre room were furnished with white-stained oak boards, adding a nice airy touch to the room. She'd brought a framed picture but it was empty, and she told Draco to fill it with something that mattered to him.

Going to bed, he lay on his back. She took off her clothes, slipped beneath the blanket and snuggled close to him. Falling asleep shortly after, Draco dreamt of Pansy.

Life with Pansy
Dreaming, Draco found himself sitting in his father's armchair reading the Daily Prophet. The wood burned in the fireplace. The house was silent. It was evening. Draco adjusted his glasses, and he looked up as a motion caught his attention. The door leading from the sitting room creaked open, as if it was apologizing for moving. He felt his chest instantly collapse, and a tremendous grief seized him. He set his hopes on it being Hermione – she was all he wanted. But his heart sank to his toes as the door opened. It was Pansy. She had dyed her hair blonde, curled it. She wore a chiffon frock in white and pink colours, and she eyed him, smiling nervously. Draco felt enraged. It wasn't Hermione.

Hermione Jean Granger. Every single day he'd regretted not acting upon his emotions and taken her as his wife. Instead, he'd settled for second best. Pansy had been triumphant during the wedding ceremony. She had been cocky, and she'd smiled and clung to his arm in apparent affection. Draco had bided his time and smirked surreptitiously by her side. Inside, he felt nothing but hatred for her.

The first blow had been struck on the wedding night. He had effectively disarmed her, told her she was never to wield a wand again and then forced himself on her. He saw his own fear of Melchior reflected in her eyes, and he understood the recipe at once. Breaking her would be easy and he would enjoy it. He made her keep to one part of Malfoy Manor. He seldom let her dine with his mother, and he took pleasure in controlling every move she made. His hatred for the Slytherin in her made him capable of anything, and he vented out all of his self-blame over Hermione, on Pansy. Looking at him sideways would leave her black and blue, sometimes to such an extent she had to rest for days.

Now she was with child, and Draco was angrier than ever. Hermione should have been the mother, not Pansy. It was like a nightmare, and in the back of his head, Draco knew he was dreaming. Her pregnancy didn't stop him from hurting her. He sometimes kicked her repeatedly in the stomach, hoping it would be enough to kill the abomination festering there. For the child was a pure-blood. It would amount to nothing but a lunatic and a Death Eater. As every day went by, Draco lost more and more of his humanity. He was a powerful, rich dark wizard. When he looked into the mirror, he saw his face replaced with Voldemort. And he was laughing maliciously.

Jerking awake, Draco opened his eyes and stared into the ceiling. Hermione was sleeping peacefully next to him, and he had to gaze at her twice in the dark to make sure it was her and not Pansy. She stirred, and Draco whispered a lie about going to the loo. The Gryffindor fell back into slumber. Dressing in sweatpants, shoes and t-shirt, he tiptoed out and closed the door carefully behind him. He needed Melchior. The eudaimon had once told him he was going to be a wizard greater than Voldemort. But would acquiring such skills cost him Hermione? Would he get delusional with grandiosity the way Voldemort was? He marched out through the dark corridor until he was at the entrance hall. The aurors keeping watch spotted him immediately and Draco made no attempt to hide the fact that the dagger dangled from his right hand. Strangely enough, they didn't try to stop him, as he had no idea that Dumbledore had informed them of the role Draco played as a Demon Hunter. He was – by the aurors at Hogwarts – considered an ally of sorts. A very young one, though.

His feet were beckoned towards the Room of Requirement. Before his mind's eye, Draco kept seeing the Vanishing Cabinet. The first morning light illuminated the grand stained glass windows and the closer he came to the entrance, the faster his heart pounded. He expected to run into Pansy with or without a bunch of Death Eaters at any minute. A noise – like some strangled cry – made him turn his head abruptly to his right. Down the corridor he saw the outline of a tall figure with black wings. Draco instantly recognized Melchior. Looking up from the kneeling man infront of him, Melchior immediately spotted his young protégé. Squinting, Draco realised that his master was with someone, and that someone was seemingly in pain. It took Draco a second to realize who it was.