Contrast

A/N~ Here you are...the long awaited Chapter 21. I hope you enjoy it!

Endless thanks to MistressMalfoy who always gives my bum a well deserved good hard smack when I am lagging behind and Nicole, the very best beta in the whole wide world!

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Draco had always thought that Harry Potter was the stupidest prat that he had ever laid eyes upon, and as silence shrouded the room that contained a recently arrived Blaise Zabini, he concluded it to be a severe understatement. He had finally fucked himself over. Draco couldn’t help but watch pretentiously as Granger’s dumbfounded wide eyes alternated between a foolishly grinning Potter and a smirking Blaise. She slowly stood up and walked over to stand in front of them, the pumpkin pasty she had just grabbed still in her hand, now forgotten. At that moment, Draco knew that all the warnings he had given her, all of the thoughts he had put into her head this morning weren’t mere bollocks as she determined them to be. She had tried so hard not to believe him, but now there was no way around it; Draco was right, he was right about everything.

He had to restrain from yelling “I told you so” while pointing at Granger triumphantly and declaring himself the most devastatingly handsome and brilliant wizard in the world. Instead, while keeping the victory that pulsed through out his body at bay, he sat back and reclined in his chair, readying himself to take in what was sure to be the spectacular scene that was about to unfold in the form of Granger ripping Potter a new one. As he found a comfortable position that offered him a good view, he realized that Granger had yet to say anything; she was unsettlingly silent, resembling when he told her about Potter and Weasley’s little adventure they had found so unnecessary to divulge any information about. Draco now knew this sort of reaction, or lack there of, did not bode well for Potter, but the dumb bastard obviously didn’t know that. He just stood there, beaming like a simpering pillock, probably waiting for Granger to express her ever-lasting gratitude, thanking him for bringing a former fuck back into her life when in reality he should have been guarding his very small manly bits, if he had any at all. Oh, this was going to be good.

After another few moments of staring at the two blokes in front of her as though she had been confunded, it seemed that Granger had finally registered what her so-called best mate had done. Her astonishment was being rapidly replaced with an unnerving angry calm for all in the room to see. Her eyes narrowed and she stood solidly, her feet planted to the floor, shoulder width apart and her arms at her side. Draco was quite certain that with one wrong move, Granger would pounce on Potter and beat him to a bloody pulp. The thought must have crossed Potter’s mind as well, for Draco saw his smile falter ever so slightly before remaining in tact, although now it appeared to be more forced than natural. Across from him, Weasley had finally abandoned shoveling forkfuls of food into his gaping mouth and was watching his two mates with an expression of pure fear on his simple face, clearly recognizing Granger’s stance and dangerous expression.

“What are you playing at, Harry?” she finally asked Potter, her voice coming out quiet, but firm.

“What do you mean, Hermione?” he responded curiously.

“Why did you bring him here?” she took a step towards him as her tone became sharper and more threatening.

Draco was certain that her eyes would be flashing with fire by now, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw Potter’s shite eating grin fade and both he and Blaise step back cautiously. Swallowing back a chuckle, Draco settled for smirking silently at the ponces.

“I…he…he’s a member of the Order now, Hermione, that’s all.” Potter stuttered.

“You, Harry James Potter, are full of nothing but bloody fucking bullshite!” Granger shouted without warning, causing all males in the room to jump involuntarily at the loud and hostile declaration except for Draco. This certainly wasn’t the first time that he had seen Granger in such an unpredictable mood, so he partly knew what to expect. His smirk grew smugly.

“I…I don’t know what you mean.”

Holding back a snort, Draco watched as Granger started advancing on Potter, her finger pointing at him accusingly, her left hand still holding on to the pasty.

“I know what you are on about, Harry, and it isn’t going to work!”

“What are you talking about?” Potter replied, his eyes growing wide and confused.

“You brought him here not because he is a new member of the Order, but because you were hoping our past relationship, if you could even call it that, would entice me to stay here while you and Ron are out on missions, fighting in a war that I have every right to be a part of! Don’t forget, Harry, Voldemort wants me and my kind dead too, not just you! I won’t be willingly incapacitated at your request simply because it is convenient for you! I should be able to stand by your side as well as defend myself!”

Once again, the kitchen lapsed into silence, the walls still seeming to reverberate with Granger’s proclamation. Potter and Granger merely stared at each other, neither taking notice of the way Blaise was slowly but steadily making his way away from the two and towards the table. Draco sat back, the smirk he had no intentions of withholding still playing on his upturned lips.

“Hermione…” Potter began soothingly. She shook her head in warning, stopping him before he could say another word.

“If the next thing that comes out of your mouth is a lie, I don’t want to hear it. There will be no placating and docile tones, do not speak to me like I am a child. All I want is the truth.”

Potter’s eyebrows knitted and even from across the room Draco could see his emerald eyes darken and his mouth develop into a scowl. He should have known Granger was too smart to see through his pathetic attempt at reintroducing Blaise into her life. She wasn’t called the cleverest witch of the century because she merely labeled herself that on a whim in hopes of boosting herself above the rest of the untalented imbeciles at school purely out of vanity. Only Draco seemed to do that…and the Dark Lord, but he didn’t count seeing as how he was just plain crazy.

Maddened, Potter took a step forward, causing Granger’s still pointed finger to press into his chest. So, Potter wasn’t backing down, and neither was Granger. Draco was right in predicting that this would be one hell of an entertaining show.

“So what? Is it really so wrong for me to want to keep you protected?” Potter challenged.

“It isn’t your decision to make, Harry, it never was!”

“I was only looking out for you!”

“I don’t need looking after, damn it!” Granger screamed. “I know what is best for me, not you! If I want to go on missions with you and Ron, I will. There will be no more of you telling me “no”. I have already established that, and I thought you had accepted it, but obviously you didn’t, because you went off and pulled this fucking stunt!”

“I thought it would help, I thought you would be happy to see him again!” yelled Potter so loudly that the dishes on the table actually vibrated.

“Are you daft? Do I look happy? Is this how I react when I am happy, you fucking twat?”

“But…but you shagged him.”

“That’s all it ever was, Harry, shagging! I haven’t even spoken to him since that day in the corridor! So why, Harry? What made you think that this would be some brilliant plan, when it is absolutely fuckwitted?”

“He was willing to join us and I just thought he could keep you occupied…”

“…while you and Ron went off without me?” Granger bitterly finished for him.

Potter averted his eyes and ran a hand through his wayward and constantly unkempt hair as he nodded wordlessly.

“I just wanted-!”

“I don’t care what you wanted, Harry!” she interrupted.

Potter scoffed but said nothing in return.

“This is about what I want, how I want to live my life. I want to feel useful, not cooped up in this old house doing research for you. I know that I am not the quickest with the wand and not as agile as you and Ron, but I am resourceful and know more spells than the two of you combined. I want you to respect what I want and utilize my abilities, not have me stuck in this house like some bloody fugitive.”

“We utilize your abilities!” Potter argued. “You do plenty for us that isn’t research; you cook for us and you clean and you make sure we are on track with training and you…you…”

The rest of Potter’s insanely idiotic drabble died before he could finish, his eyes becoming as large as dinner plates and his bottom lip actually trembling at the murderous glower that Granger was sending his way. Draco shook his head; the sorry sod didn’t stand a chance now.

Blaise, who had made it to his destination of the table inconspicuously, cleared his throat quietly to get Draco’s attention. Draco looked up at him questioningly.

“Do you mind?” he whispered casually, gesturing to the empty chair next to Draco. “I can’t help but be jealous of your advantageous view of the…proceedings.”

It seemed as though he had found Granger and Potter’s row just as amusing as Draco did, evident by his dark glimmering eyes and the twitching corners of his lips. And although Draco was still pissed off at him for fucking Granger, he couldn’t deprive the bloke of the increasingly stupendous spectacle.

“By all means,” Draco replied tonelessly as he returned his concentration to a petrified Potter staring unblinkingly at a seething Granger, who had yet to respond.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Harry Potter,” she hissed and abruptly turned her head, her glare now casted at her other friend, “and this goes for you too Ronald Weasley!”

At the mention of his name, Weasley jumped out of his chair and stood next to Potter, rubbing his inept arm protectively. Of course he would align himself with the pillow-biter; he would probably be denied various sexual favors for at least a week if he didn’t.

“Oi, I’m not in this!”

“Oh yes you are, you arselicker! You always agree with Harry, are always on his side. You never stick up for me! So yes, you are in this, and the both of you better listen up because I am not going to tell you again.”

Granger took a deep breath, her infuriated eyes swiveling back and forth between the two, now both bristling with indignation. Draco found himself leaning forward, eager to hear what Granger was going to say, hoping it was along the lines of “Eat shite and die.” Even Blaise shifted in his seat, the old wood creaking softly as he mirrored Draco’s movements.

Appearing as though she had finally remembered the uneaten and long forgotten pumpkin pasty in her hand, Granger brought both hands in front of her and begun tearing bits apart. Draco supposed she was doing so because of her ridiculous habit of shredding what ever may be in her hands at the moment, or strangling her hands themselves, when she was angry or nervous, but that presumption was soon to be proven wrong in a most humorous way.

“I am not your fucking cook…” she yelled and threw a piece of the pastry unexpectedly. It hit the wall to the right behind Potter’s head as he ducked swiftly in time to avoid the projectile. His expression changed from irritated to startled as he raised his head and stared at her dubiously. Unaffected, Granger continued her assault.

“…I am not your fucking maid…” another bit hit Weasley on his back, having turned in order to shield his arm, and smeared pureed pumpkin on his shirt as he whined “Oww!”

“…I am not your fucking keeper…” the next chunk actually met with Potter’s crotch and he let out a scandalized “Hermione!” as he cupped his groin.

“…and I am most certainly not your DAMN, BLOODY, BUGGERING, WANKING, FUCKING MUM!”

The last two hunks of the pumpkin pasty were thrown simultaneously and both landed on Weasley and Potter’s heads, resulting in them yelling at Granger loudly and incoherently. As they shook crumbs out of their hair and clothes, Granger smiled and watched them self-contentedly. On the other side of the room, Draco’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, his eyes watering from being unable to release his deep guffawing. He had never seen anything so hilarious in his life, and he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. Next to him, Blaise was fighting the same battle, his hand placed regally over his mouth to prevent any sound from escaping.

Realizing that it probably wasn’t the best moment to have an emotionally charged Not So Golden Trio take notice of his enjoyment out of their misery, Draco employed his ability to show indifference. Taking a few deep breaths, he shook the image of Granger pelting Potter and Weasley with pieces of the baked good, resisting the urge to clap and give a standing ovation while cheering “Encore, encore!” He watched as Granger brushed her hands together, wiping away any remaining particles and glowered satisfyingly at Potter and Weasley, who stopped swiping at their clothes and hair and glared back.

“What in the bloody hell was that all about?” Potter asked bewilderedly.

“Yeah, have you gone completely mental, Hermione?” added Weasley.

“Mental?” her laugh was soft and discontented, as was her voice. “No, I’m not mental, just tired. Tired of being restricted to this house, tired of being depressed, and tired of second guessing how you two treat me. I let both of you walk all over me, tell me what to do, what not to do, all because I told myself that you loved me, that you only wanted what was best for me, but after today, I don’t know if I can believe that anymore.”

“Hermione, we didn’t know.” Weasley said.

“Yes, one of you did.”

Granger looked at Potter, his gaze leaving hers as he focused on the floor briefly before bringing them to rest on her again, silently screaming of guilt and apologies.

“I’m sorry, Hermione.” He whispered so quietly Draco barely heard it. He bent his head once more. “I thought that if I kept you busy enough you would be too occupied to think about going back out with Ron and me. When you told me that you were going to go on missions with us again, that you weren’t going to take no for an answer, I knew I had to do something, anything to keep you here, as far away from war and death as possible. Zabini here spoke to Dumbledore about possibly joining the Order, so I was able to contact him and invite him over. It was a last resort, I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“But that wasn’t the only reason you brought him here, was it, Harry?”

Potter’s head shot up at the sound of Granger’s voice revert to being harsh and heated. His remorseful face became hard and expressionless, the same as it was in the drawing room nearly an hour ago when they were interrogating Finnegan. Draco knew Granger had touched upon something, recognized it in the depths of his far too often expressive eyes as only she could do. It unsettled Draco to know that she could just look at the tosser and discern what was going on inside of his hollow head. Potter was guarding himself, but Granger could see right through him; she knew there was more to Blaise’s sudden appearance than he was telling her. And Draco had a pretty good idea what it was. Judging by the soft chuckle Blaise let loose that only he heard, Draco assumed he was right.

Now Draco was by no means a modest person, he would surely be the first to admit it. That was one adjective he would never use to describe himself. And why should he be modest? He was extremely talented, not only when it came to magic, but also to living up to his self-appointed Slytherin Sex God title. He was strikingly good looking and had an Adonis-like physique that would have any woman, or man for that matter, quivering with an overwhelming sense of attraction and lust. Not to mention that he was terribly intelligent, charming, well refined, and witty. And the fact that he was richer than Midas only added to his appeal. Why shouldn’t he acknowledge his extraordinary and envious attributes as well as his undeniable animal magnetism?

So when Granger sourly said “It was because of Malfoy too, wasn’t it?” he wasn’t the least bit surprised nor displeased. On the contrary, he was quite proud that he partially incited Potter’s decision to out himself as a complete and utter moron.

“So what if it was?” Potter disputed, the tempestuousness in his voice replacing the remorse. “Am I just supposed to sit back and let Malfoy have another go at you? You aren’t right for each other. You deserve so much better than him. He is an arrogant bastard, a completely self-involved and egotistical prick!”

“I am still in the room, Potter.” Draco drawled indifferently, impervious to the string of unoriginal insults.

“I am well aware.” The prat said bitingly, briefly bringing his glare to Draco before returning it to Granger. “Zabini may not be the greatest bloke, but I figured you at least fancied him enough to shag him. He is a whole hell of a lot more tolerable than Malfoy, even if he was a Slytherin. I know I’m not wrong when I say you have some bizarre and deviant attraction to them.”

“Just for your information, Harry,” she spat, his name sounding like an unwelcome taste on her tongue, “I only shagged Blaise to help me forget about Malfoy after you told me to break it off with him! I used him for sex, and he knows it!”

Draco couldn’t suppress a deep chuckle as he heard Weasley gasp like a little girl and saw Potter’s cheeks tinge with pink while he turned his head and looked at Blaise who snickered dryly and shook his head in nonchalant affirmation.

“Oh…well, did it work?” Potter asked, restoring his attention to Granger, his voice desperate and hopeful.

“No, you bleeding wanker, it didn’t!”

“Ha!”

At Granger’s admission, Draco could not refrain himself from letting the bragging exclamation escape his mouth and as it did four sets of eyes darted over to him. Suddenly Draco had become the center of attention and was on the receiving end of four different expressions. He studied each of them, his smirk firmly in place.

Blaise was grinning saucily with one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised higher than the other as he studied Draco, his dark eyes glinting with mirth. Draco found himself unconsciously smiling back before focusing on Potter’s sidekick.

Weasley looked at Draco with a mixture of unease, displeasure, and bewilderment, as though he still wasn’t quite sure of what was happening and how he should be feeling about it at the moment. This display of conflicting emotions only attested to Draco’s theory that Weasley was as thick as two short planks nailed together.

Granger was staring at Draco warningly, her brown eyes sparking with residual outrage and annoyance, wordlessly alerting him to say nothing further on the subject lest she redirect her tantrum to him. At the mere sight of the fierceness gracing her pretty face and her brilliantly blazing eyes, Draco felt pangs of desire as blood rushed below his waist. She recognized the look he gave her through hooded eyes, one side of his upturned mouth rising wickedly, for her eyes grew wide shortly before narrowing once more and she shook her head slightly, clearly telling him “no”. It wasn’t his fault he got randy when she was pissed off and yelling, being all dishy and shagable. Perhaps she should learn to control her temper and then he wouldn’t pop a stiffie every time she got angry.

Then Draco turned his gaze to Potter, and he had to actually bite his tongue to keep from laughing out right. The spaz was glaring at him, his green eyes burning with contempt and malice while he opened and closed his hands into fists at his sides, his clenching jaw coinciding with the motions, obviously fighting the urge to leap over the table and throw a few punches Draco’s way. Honestly; if that visage was supposed to scare him, than Potter seriously needed to practice his mean face in the mirror every night. Holding back a snort, Draco returned Potter’s sneer with a feral grin before shifting his eyes back to Granger and licking his lips obscenely, his gaze reverting to Potter before he slipped his tongue back into his mouth.

“I want you to stay away from him, Hermione!” shouted Potter, his shaking hand aimed at Draco.

Granger threw her hands up in the air and stomped her feet, reminding Draco of a very temperamental child who had just been denied a chocolate frog before dinner.

“Damn it, Harry! You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

“You are one of my best mates! If I don’t like what’s going on with you, Hermione, I am sure as shite going to at least have a say about it, especially if it involves you and Malfoy fucking all over the whole damned place!”

“Don’t you get it?” cried Granger frustratingly. “Whatever is between Malfoy and me is just that. It is none of your fucking business!”

Draco smirked in appreciation of Granger’s bollocks, actually finding himself proud of her for finally standing up to Potter. Potter, on the other hand, obviously couldn’t recognize a good set of bollocks unless they were resting on his chin. His body visibly stiffened and Potter took a deep breath as he glared at her, his green eyes blazing with anger yet his expression becoming one of stony resentment.

“So you aren’t even going to bother to deny it then?” he questioned coldly.

“Deny what?”

“That you are shagging Malfoy again.”

Draco found himself leaning forwards in his chair once more, quite interested in what Granger was going to tell him. He knew she wouldn’t lie to Potter, not after what had happened at Hogwarts between them, and she certainly wasn’t wasting her time being sensitive to the prat, but would she tell the truth? She appeared to be debating that same thought. He could practically hear the wheels in her head turning, yet she merely returned the standoffish look Potter was sending her before she answered him.

“If I want to shag Malfoy, then I am going to do it, whether you like it or not. You can’t tell me what to do anymore. I won’t have it.”

“And I won’t have you shagging Malfoy.” He responded audaciously.

Granger narrowed her flaring eyes and tilted her head, her smile poisonously pleasant, her voice sweet with candied venom.

“Well then, you’ll just have to get over it, won’t you?”

The response must have held a deeper meaning for the Trio than it did for Draco, because both Potter and Weasley seemed to be on the edge of what was promising to be a great gay conniption fit if they didn’t control their tempers.

Weasley had begun turning bright red, the putrid color concealing his freckles and instantaneously clashing with his disgustingly red hair. He also seemed to be swelling with outrage. Draco expected to see steam start whistling and streaming from his ears any moment now.

Potter’s hands and jaws were clenching once more and the sound of his knuckles cracking could be heard over his shallow breaths. His eyes had become incredibly dark, almost a forest green, as his lips moved what appeared to be soundlessly, but upon closer examination by way of applying his excellent hearing, it sounded to Draco as though he were hissing in Parseltongue, and most likely cursing at that. Show off.

Taking their lack of reply as an end to their row, Granger had raised her eyebrows and grinned in virulent victory at the two silently seething blokes before turning on her heel. She was well on her way to stomping out of the kitchen, and Draco was running through all sorts of ways he could take the piss out of Potter and Weasley when both actions were stopped with one simple but dangerous word.

“No!” Potter shouted.

Granger immediately ceased her retreat and spun around so quickly that her hair loosened from the elastic band that had been holding it back, flinging the binding across the room. She stared at Potter with nothing but pure wonderment on her face, her brown eyes round and questioning. The light behind her created a halo effect and the child-like gaze she pondered Potter with made her look like a fallen angel, Draco mused. That was until she fully registered what Potter had yelled, then the sinful and wicked glower returned and she became a very sexy and ill-tempered devil in a celestial being’s disguise.

“‘No?’” she whispered severely. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

Potter drew his shoulders back and glared fixedly at Granger, as opposed to Weasley who had taken a few steps back and was muttering “Bad idea, mate.” while shaking his head.

“Just that; no!” Potter said challengingly. “I won’t see you lowering yourself to that piece of shite wanker’s level all for a shag whenever it strikes your fancy! So no, I don’t think I will get over it.”

Not saying a word, Granger and Potter glowered at each other, their faces inexpressive and hard, but their eyes exchanging all the hateful words that no matter how angry they were, they would never actually say. They were having a silent and threatening optic row, more intense their actual verbal argument.

“Malfoy,” Granger addressed him tonelessly as her gaze refused to falter.

“Granger,” Draco drawled, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

She did not answer him back, but simply held out her hand in his direction, her index finger beckoning to him slowly and seductively.

Instantly, Draco knew what she wanted. She wanted him to come to her, to align himself with her and aid her in getting her point across, and if it meant outing their relationship in front of her mates, so be it. She wanted to prove to Potter that regardless of how many “no”s he told her, she would do whatever she pleased. Of course, Draco had no problem with her wanting to make her point by way of doing exactly what Potter forbid her to do. As a matter of fact, he admired her for it.

His problem was that if he went to her, if he took her hand, he would be giving her permission to use him, and Draco Malfoy did not get used. Sure, he had used various people in the past, and would most likely continue to do it in the future, but he was a user, not a usee. It showed weakness and a sense of subservience to be used, not to mention compassion in this particular case. Draco was none too fond of those characteristics to say the least, and would hardly ever claim he possessed even the minimalist amount of them in his cold hard heart.

He had two options to consider. Let the weighing begin…

First option: scowl and sneer at Granger, call her a Mudblood slag, or something to that effect, and stroll up to his bedroom to start wanking off straightaway, because if he abandoned her when she so clearly needed him, he would not be shagging Hermione Granger again for a very long time, if ever at all. However, he would still have his sterling reputation and undamaged pride, having been able to claim that not once in his life had he ever been used, even if it did result in uncomfortable amounts of chaffing.

Second option: go to Granger, and let her do what she will with him, while pissing off Potter even more in the process, but when he had her alone let her know that her using him was not acceptable, that he was not Blaise and would not let it slide, and she could be damn certain that it will never happen again as long as long as he lived; which incidentally might not be that long because he would then have to deal with both an irate Potter and a furious, although probably still slightly confused Weasley.

Basically, it came down to what was more important to him; his pride and reputation or having it off with Granger, thereby infuriating Potter in one of the best ways possible, while being willingly used by Granger to achieve aforementioned result. Or maybe, just maybe, he could combine them both in a way only his incredible talents would allow him to do. He hadn’t mentally listed his amazing attributes earlier just for his own shites and giggles.

Unfortunately, while Draco had been internally deliberating what option to choose, his body deemed it necessary to act on its own accord, for when he shook himself out of his reverie, he found that he had already stepped around Blaise, and was currently strolling over to Granger unhesitatingly. Damn! He may have had more cognitive skills than a wizard twice his age, but he was still eighteen years old and had the hormones to coincide with his, dare he think it, adolescence. Of course at the thought of not getting to fuck the living day lights out of Granger and having to revert to those unpleasant months he was without her, Draco’s libido had made up his mind for him, pride and reputation be damned.

Eh, bugger it. After the war, he would have an even better reputation and more pride. Draco Malfoy, the pureblooded son of the infamous Lucius Malfoy, shagger of Hermione Granger, Harry Potter’s best friend and Mudblood extraordinaire, secret Order of the Phoenix member who went undercover as a Death Eater, risking his own precious life to help Potter the Boy Wonder take down the incurably insane Dark Lord while remaining astonishingly handsome, to ultimately become the most celebrated and famous spy in the history of the world.

Smirking at the thought, Draco stopped in front of Granger and took her small hand into his. It was warm, clammy, and shaking somewhat, but none of the apprehension the extremity was conveying was resonating upon her beautifully impassioned face. He squeezed it reassuringly, nonverbally letting her know that he was going to play her game, he would be her partner in the crime she was about to commit. Her gaze met his; he winked and brought her hand to his lips, kissing it slowly and deliberately. Her eyes lit up with understanding and Draco was finally able to see into their brown depths, fully aware that beneath the irritation and resentment, there was relief and gratitude. She smiled at him lightly, the gesture so minuscule and momentary that he was sure no one else in the room was able to register it before it was gone.

Draco returned the smile with a carnal leer and barely nodded his head, indicting that she should continue with whatever spontaneous plan she had concocted that required his participation, one she would most likely end up regretting tomorrow.

Granger glanced back at Potter, artfully inclining her head with her eyebrows raised teasingly, her eyes provoking and shinning, almost as if they were challenging Potter to tell her no one more time. No such word was uttered.

Obviously satisfied when Potter and Weasley had no retort for her, only stared at her as though she had just declared herself the Dark Lord’s love slave, Granger grasped Draco’s hand tighter and guided him to the stairs leading out of the kitchen.

As they reached the landing, Draco heard footsteps running to the threshold of the entrance to the floor below. He didn’t have turn around to know who it was.

“Hermione, get back here now!” Potter yelled hysterically.

“No!” Granger shouted back at him without even looking over her shoulder, her tone firm and taunting. Draco did notice that she had increased the speed with which they were clambering up the next set of steps.

“FUCK!”

The loud and unusually vulgar expression roared by Potter was followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps running up the stairs, most certainly belonging to Potter and Weasley.

“Your room or mine, Granger?” Draco asked aloofly as they swiftly arrived at the third floor hallway, careless that the thundering treading was drawing closer to the two of them.

“Yours.” She replied as she steered him to his closed door and reached for the knob.

“HERMIONE!”

Potter and Weasley bounded into the hallway and stopped when they saw he and Granger had yet to enter the room, both breathing heavily and completely infuriated. Granger halted her attempt at opening the door and glared at them impatiently.

“What?”

While Weasley and Potter tired to catch their breath, Draco watched Blaise out of the corner of his eye following their path, sauntering up the stairs and down the corridor as though he were taking a stroll in the park and just happened upon them by accident. He stopped a little ways down from Potter and Weasley, close enough to see the rest of the scene and far enough as to ensure his presence would not draw any unwanted attention. He leaned against the wall aristocratically, arms folded across his chest and an appreciative grin playing at his lips.

“What do you think you are doing?” Potter asked gruffly.

“Well,” she replied tartly, “Malfoy and I are going to go into his room where we are going to shag like hippogriffs in heat.”

Weasley let out a squeal like a first year Hufflepuff at the announcement and looked like he didn’t know whether to be offended or outraged. Potter’s eyes narrowed as he breathed deeper and Draco knew it had nothing to do with regulating his breathing pattern anymore. And very faintly, Draco could hear Blaise chuckling in the background. Draco himself had to keep from laughing as well.

“I thought you had more loyalty than this, Hermione.” Potter said coldly as he shook his head in disapproval. “I though our friendship meant more to you than fucking this bleeding wanker.”

She stared at him in shock and disappointment. For Granger, being the consummate Gryffindor, hearing her own housemate and best friend at that, questioning her loyalty to her friends was far beyond any slew of hurtful words Potter could ever hurl her way, other than doubting her bravery and nerve of course. It was the ultimate insult…well, for that lot of losers it was anyhow.

“You think I need more loyalty?” she questioned harshly. “When have I ever let you down? I have been by your sodding side every step of the fucking way; supporting you in every bloody thing you do, even when you were at your most fucked up and when you made the most fuckwitted mistakes! You criticize and take advantage of me and yet you question my loyalty?”

“I do not…!” Potter started to argue but was cut off by Granger, whose anger had returned with full force.

“My shagging Malfoy has absolutely fuck-all to do with my friendship, and loyalty, to you! It isn’t always about you, Harry, not everything I do I do with you in mind! For once I thought about myself, what I wanted, because Merlin knows I haven’t gotten my way in a long time! And what I want right now is Malfoy!”

Draco smiled smugly as he stared down Potter, who had begun his whole clenching body parts spectacle he seemed so fond of. Weasley on the other hand was looking at Granger innocently.

“Cor blimey, Hermione,” he said sincerely. “You don’t have to shag him. You never did. Hell, if you’d asked, we would have gladly taken one for the team.”

Must not laugh, must not point out what a right plonker Weasley is, nor how much deeper he just dug himself into the hole he now had no chance getting out of. Draco could feel his resolve weakening, the deep need to laugh vociferously and belittle Weasley becoming stronger, especially when he saw Blaise using the wall to hold himself up as he laughed in a way that was inhumanly soundless. He couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at the thought of Weasley offering up his and Potter’s services to her. It was just too laughable and ludicrous to be taken seriously. Granger, on the contrary, did not find Weasley’s outstandingly obtuse admission quite so humorous.

“Taken one for the team?” she repeated slowly.

“Yeah.” Weasley smiled and nodded encouragingly, still not realizing the monumental mistake he had just made. It caused Blaise to laugh even harder and Draco’s eyes to tear up.

“That sure would be something.” Replied Granger sarcastically. “Seeing as how you can’t seem to stop wanking off, even if it was at the possibility of fucking a real live girl and Harry hasn’t even bothered to squelch the rumors that he is a bleeding queer and takes it up the arse. And you think my sex life is fucked up?”

When Draco saw Weasley and Potter’s jaws drop in complete shock and begin sputtering, he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. He didn’t know whether to share in the stupor, congratulate Granger on an insult well done, or throw her to the floor and shag her right there. In all the 7 years of knowing Granger, no one, not even Draco, had ever heard her speak so vulgarly. He knew there had to be a few good reasons why he had been attracted to her, and this was now definitely one of them. Nobody but him had ever insulted Potter and Weasley like that but him. Not even Professor Snape had rendered Potter into a stuttering and stunned mess so quickly and brilliantly.

“I am not gay, Hermione!” Potter replied angrily after he recovered from the initial blow of Granger’s ridicule.

“And I don’t wank off that much.” Weasley muttered faintly as he turned red once more and averted his eyes to the threadbare carpet that lined the hallway floor.

“Yeah, and I’m a Hufflepuff at heart…and a virgin too.” Draco added sardonically.

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Potter glared at him spitefully before addressing Granger yet again.

“Don’t you see what an outright arsehole he is, Hermione?”

Granger let out a short chortle.

“Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

Potter’s lips scowled and he took a step closer to Granger, his voice low and icy, his words hissed though clamped teeth, his blazing eyes staring directly into hers.

“You don’t have to do this, Hermione. I get it, okay? You don’t have to fuck him just to prove your point to me. You don’t have to act like some sort of…of…”

“Scarlet woman!” provided Weasley caustically when Potter couldn’t find the right word for his disdainful retort.

“Right,” he smirked, “scarlet woman!”

She was fuming, her tone just as dangerous as Potter’s, as she moved forward to glower at him. Her hand was still linked with Draco’s, pulling his arm with her advancement, clutching it tightly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You are carrying on like a slut, a whore, a slag, a scarlet woman.”

Oh shite! Well, the gloves were definitely off and Potter was hitting hard. Draco just hoped Granger would find a way to hit him harder. No one called his girl a whore except for him.

“I’ll show you a scarlet woman!” she shouted.

And without warning, Draco felt himself being yanked abruptly to Granger, his feet stumbling on the floor as he tried to keep his balance. His eyes opened wide with surprise and his smirk faded when he realized what her intentions were, she was going to use him right here and now, in front of Potter and Weasley. The wrathful and teary eyes he saw only seconds before her lips crashed to his roughly confirmed his suspicions. When she shoved him against his door with what he determined to be all her might and pushed her tongue past his closed lips forcefully, Draco met her wet hot organ with every violent thrust, his annoyance of being used like this mingling with rapidly rising lust.

Then he noticed it, aside from the grumbles of outrage and protest from Potter and Weasley that is. It was the way she was snogging him, a way she had never done before. The motion of her tongue was methodical, the way she writhed against his body deliberate, her stifled moans of pleasure contrived. It was not out of desire but ire. It was all for show. It was all for Potter and Weasley.

Draco concluded that being used was absolutely shitty and infuriating. He was through with it. He felt as though the anger that was flowing through out his veins was boiling his blood. He should have known it was going to be like this. Well, fuck it! Fuck being used; fuck all these bloody theatrics, fuck Potter and Weasley, those sodding bastards, and fuck Granger, that bitch! If she wanted to give them a show, they’d get one!

Draco growled and grabbed Granger’s arse savagely, taking control of the kiss and deepening it, his tongue and mouth moving ferociously. Her motions stalled only for a moment before she accepted the change and took advantage of it. He could feel her smiling against his mouth as he bit her lower lip. She thought he was playing along. She thought wrong.

Aggravated at her assumption, Draco tugged her closer to him, so that their bodies were melded together, and pushed his long hard length against Granger’s lower abdomen. Even though her oral rape of him was initially fraudulent it didn’t stop his body from reacting to her ministrations, and it was only a matter of a few moments before hers did the same. So when she moaned into his mouth at the unexpected contact, there was no mistaking it for being forced this time. But it didn’t end there; he wasn’t finished, not even close.

Opening his eyes, Draco fixed them tauntingly upon Potter as he ground against Granger again. She groaned once more, her hands swiftly immersing themselves into his hair while she pulled his head down and kissed him madly, her little ploy gone astray. As green orbs stared at Draco hatefully, he withdrew his right hand from Granger’s bum only to slowly slide it around to the front of her waist and under her shirt, raising the cotton fabric as his fingers trailed up her flat stomach, his nails leaving red marks in their wake.

Draco released Granger’s lips and lifted his head. He smirked wickedly at Potter’s lack of reaction to his and Granger’s display of debauchery. He was just watching them stonily, as though he was rooted to the spot by his self-contained anger. This meant one of two things; either Potter was the nancy-boy Draco always claimed he was and didn’t have the bollocks to interfere or he was so livid that he didn’t trust himself to move unless he wanted to pop his Avada cherry by killing Draco. Considering the pure gleam of murderous abhorrence in Potter’s eyes, he had to go with the latter.

Draco chuckled deeply before attacking Granger’s neck with his mouth as he simultaneously captured her breast roughly in his hand. He relished in the feeling of her pebbled nipple in the palm of his hand, her bra doing nothing to hinder the evidence of her arousal and only adding to his. He caressed it boldly causing Granger to throw back her head in pleasure and arch into his touch, elongating her neck as Draco marked her as his. The whole time Draco’s teasing gaze never wavered from Potter’s while Granger moved shamelessly and sensually against him.

Overtaken by a sudden need, for both Granger and revenge, Draco utilized his steadfast seeker’s spryness and quickly switched their positions. Now Granger was the one pressed between the door and his body, giving her precious friends an optimal view of what he had the pleasure to see so many times before. Her euphoria laden face, fierce with lust and wanting, her eyes shut tight in abandon, her head resting on the wood panel was all on arousing display.

Burying his head in the crook where Granger’s neck connected with her shoulder, Draco nuzzled her soft skin, laving at the sensitive spot as he whispered to her huskily.

“Open your fucking eyes.” He told her for the second time that day. “Don’t make this all for nothing.”

He lifted his head a bit when she whimpered in response thinking she wouldn’t heed his words, but what he saw made him smirk gratifyingly. Her eyes were open, so dark they were practically black, glassy and slightly unfocused, and her labored breathing hitched in her chest. As covertly as he could, Draco snuck a look over his shoulder and out of the corner of his eye he saw exactly what she did: Blaise watching them with an sycophantic leer, Weasley wearing a mixture of fascination and gentle jealousy, and Potter’s hard gaze was swinging from Granger back to Draco as various muscles in his body visibly twitched, fighting against his unwillingness to move.

It had then become Draco’s own personal goal to get some sort of reaction out of Potter. Wasn’t it was what this whole pretense was for in the first place? What good would it be if Potter just stood doing absolutely nothing while Draco nearly shagged Granger in the hallway of Potter’s inherited home while they all watched? Draco knew that when Potter made a move, some sign of showing that it had gotten to him, Granger would be satisfied and so would he. That would mean he could finally end this fucking charade, stop all this bullshite and be done with it. The first and last time Draco Malfoy had ever been used.

Draco’s hand, not the one still fondling Granger’s perfect tit, but the other which had been squeezing her arse brazenly, moved down her leg until it reached the juncture of her knee as he claimed her lips once more in a rapturous snog. There it halted; gripping her flesh so deeply and painfully that he hoped it would leave bruises. He lifted her leg to his waist, and her foot hooked around his own leg, the new angle raising her skirt, showing more of her pure body than Weasley or Potter had probably ever seen. Torturously slow, Draco skimmed the smooth skin of her thigh with his hand, the further it moved upward, the more it brought her skirt with it. When his fingers brushed the bottoms of her knickers, Granger tore her mouth away from his and gasped as her eyes grew wide and scandalized. He was just a trace away from revealing her cotton-clad bum, but instead of going up those few extra centimeters, Draco retraced his path, moving down while her skirt remained indecently high.

Up again he went, teasing not only Granger, but their audience as well. As his hand retraced its course, he chanced another glance over his shoulder. Blaise was of course, still smirking admiringly, and whether it was in response to Granger’s newly exposed skin or Draco’s pure audacity, he wasn’t sure. Weasley’s mouth was slack, his eyes unblinking as though in a trace, and each time Draco’s hand came closer to exhibiting Granger’s bum, he leaned forward, greedy to catch a glimpse. Potter remained unresponsive, only his eyes giving away the fact that he was incredibly angry. And was that a flicker of envy Draco just saw for one fleeting second?

It wasn’t until Draco got frustrated and irritated that he suddenly brought his hand back and smacked Granger’s arse loudly, to which she screamed out in surprise, and he seized both cheeks, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs instinctually wrapped around his torso and Draco grinded his pelvis suggestively against hers, releasing an exaggerated moan of satisfaction. And that was what finally got Potter to crack.

“Malfoy, you fucking prick! That’s enough, damn it!” he yelled and took a step towards the entwined pair.

“It’s never enough, Potter.” He drawled in return, and as he glared back at them one last time, he added “Sorry, you tossers, show’s over.”

With that, Draco quickly seized the knob behind Granger and pushed open the door, stepping through the threshold and slamming it shut in Potter’s face with his foot. He then turned and smashed Granger against it, returning her the same position she had been in seconds before.

She looked at him brightly, eyes shinning and smiling, no longer lost in a complete haze of lust. Her legs were still encircled securely around him, her breasts pressed to his hard chest, her hands resting on his shoulders. Draco didn’t know if he was more turned on or pissed off, but with him, it usually seemed to go hand in hand.

“Bloody brilliant, Malfoy.” She sighed delightfully and tried to wiggle herself free from his embrace. But he wasn’t done yet.

Narrowing his eyes, Draco brought his hand to her neck, caressing it gently before he suddenly pushed down on her throat, pinning her to the door with his strong body. Her eyes grew large and fearful as she buried her nails into his arms, breaking the skin. He made sure that she would be unable to speak, restricting her intake of air, giving her only enough to not pass out.

Draco leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his shallow breaths causing her to shudder beneath his hold. Unable to resist, he licked her lightly, and as he did so, he felt her tense body relax ever so slightly. He could hear Potter and Weasley on the other side of the door, speaking in hushed tones yet he was unable to make out any actual words. The mere sound of their voices added to his stimulating rage.

“Don’t you ever fucking use me to get back at Potter again, do you understand me?” he growled in a low dangerous voice.

She nodded, unable to vocally answer him. Somewhat satisfied, he eased his restraint on her throat, ghosting his fingers across her neck. She swallowed soundly yet said nothing. They both could hear the conversation in the hallway growing into an argument, Potter’s voice louder and angrier than Weasley’s but still muffled.

“Do not forget who I am, Granger; a fully grown Death Eater, dangerous, violent, unpredictable.”

To emphasize his point, Draco removed his mouth from her ear and leaned back while keeping her detained, taking in the combination of apprehension and rapture on her flushed face. With his stormy gray eyes piercing hers meaningfully, he took her shirt in his hands and ripped it down the middle forcefully, sending buttons flying in every direction and exposing her rapidly moving chest, her silk covered bosom surging with each breath.

“There is more to you than that.” She replied hoarsely, her eyes clouded with desire and stubbornness. Detaching her claw like grip from his skin, she grabbed his shirt and yanked it from his frame and over his head hastily.

“I’ve killed.” Draco said simply as he tore her bra carelessly and freed her breasts from their confines before seizing her nipple with his mouth.

“You do what you have to in order to survive.” She moaned in return, reaching down and unfastening his trousers, pushing them and his boxers down his hips with her bare feet, unleashing his rock hard erection.

“I can hurt you.” He told her heatedly as he tore her skirt up the middle, pushing it to her waist, and stroked her folds over the fabric of her knickers. They were coated, drenched with her arousal, the musky scent drifting to Draco’s nose causing his cock to lurch with anticipation.

Granger shivered and jerked her lower half wantonly at his touch.

“I know, but you won’t.”

Draco sneered at her. She was right. No, he wouldn’t hurt her, not on purpose, not if she didn’t deserve it. But he wouldn’t tell her that. It revealed too much, made him think too deeply about what was really between the two of them.

Instead, he impulsively pulled her knickers aside and shoved violently into her wet pussy without any warning, rattling the door turbulently as her body banged against it. The bickering on the other side halted instantly and Draco sinisterly grinned as Granger groaned loudly, knowing that Potter and Weasley would have clearly heard.

“Fucking bitch!” Draco snarled as he pistoned in and out of her viciously, her blatant sounds of pleasure matching every one of his movements.

“Inbred wanker!” she grunted just as soundly.

He gnarled as he continued fucking her madly, relishing in the sensation of her surrounding him, her increasing wetness coating him with every thrust, her inner muscles clenching around him like a tight inviting vice. The words he had just spoken begun echoing in his head, “It’s never enough”. It was true, no matter how many times and how many different ways Draco fucked Granger, it would never be enough. He always wanted her, could never deny it.

“Never enough…” he mumbled incoherently against her shoulder. “So fucking undeniable.”

“Malfoy…” Granger panted.

She was close, he could always tell. Her head was resting on the door, hitting it rhythmically, her eyes shut tightly, opening only to look down at Draco provocatively or at his cock sliding in and out of her cunt rapidly, covered in moisture from her arousal. Her internal walls were contracting uncontrollably around him, bringing forth his own climax, but he wouldn’t give into it, not yet, not until she came.

He couldn’t help but think of what Weasley had told her earlier, and would have been a fool to not know that at least two of the blokes standing in the hallway, undoubtedly listening to the sounds of their banging, would have been more than happy to take his place impaling Granger against the door. But after today, after what he had done for her, something he would have never done and never do again, she would always be his, no matter what. And as she gasped his name repeatedly while his pounding became more frantic and rough, he promised himself that no one would take her from him again…no one.

“You’re all mine, Granger.” He snarled, his free hand roaming her body possessively, grasping at fabric, skin, whatever he could get it on that was a part of her before forcefully grabbing her hair and pulling her lips to his in a fierce kiss, his teeth biting her lips brutally.

She moaned in response as his other hand on her bum lifted her marginally, the small movement making a big difference, letting him shove into her deeper and harder

“You’re mine,” he drove into her barbarously to intensify his words. “Not Blaise’s…” plunge…pull out, “not Weasley’s…” plunge…pull out, “and not Potter’s…” plunge.

“I’m yours.” Came her raspy reply.

“My own personal Mudblood whore…” he whispered in her ear then licked her red neck, still inflamed from his grip on it earlier, luxuriating in the sweet taste of her sweat. “Mine!”

Draco pushed his cock into her almost painfully, letting go of her tresses to reach in between them and rub her clit with rapid expertise. His balls tightened as she screamed out her orgasm, coming so intensely that her nails once again found themselves embedded in his skin, drawing blood from the lacerations that started at his lower back and journeyed painfully up to his shoulders.

Unable to hold back any longer, Draco came, riding on the waves of her climax, groaning loudly in bliss only to have the familiar deep searing sting on his left forearm interrupt his savoring of the sensation. Going from experiencing absolute ecstasy to one of complete torture in such a short amount of time and so drastically caused Draco’s roar of pleasure to morph into a bellow of pain and unceremoniously drop Granger to the ground with a thud.

“Fuck!” he yelled loudly.

Bloody fucking hell, not now!

He clutched his arm irritably, trying to ease the burning that was pulsating up and down the limb. He yanked up his boxers and trousers in one swift movement then claimed his shirt from the floor, pulling it on and smoothing down his silky hair. A Malfoy must always be presentable in the company of others, otherwise they wouldn’t be envious nor attracted.

Retrieving his wand from his trouser’s pocket, Draco turned his back to the door and wordlessly summoned his Death Eater robes and mask. He pulled them on, the billowing black cloth covering his clothes, and placed the mask over his face, leaving only his pale skin to allude to his identity. He reached into his pockets for his leather gloves and put them on, completing his uniform. He would be lying to say he didn’t feel powerful and threatening.

It wasn’t until he turned around that he realized Granger was still sitting on the floor. From the look of it, when Draco dropped her, she had landed on her arse and had not budged since. Her shirt and bra were in tatters, ripped beyond repair, hanging at her sides and doing nothing to cover her teeth-marked breasts. Her legs were opened haphazardly and seemed to be trembling lightly. The skirt she wore, torn all the way up to the waistband, provided him quite the view of her knickers, the crotch still wet with her tangy release.

His gaze moved up to her face. She was staring up at him, flushed and breathing heavily, her face alarmed yet still aroused. She made no move to cover herself, to even move, but just gazed at him, unashamed of the position and state that she was in. She looked vulnerable, broken, submissive, sated, and incredibly ravishing, as though she was waiting for him to join her on the floor and fuck her into it.

Draco breathed in deeply and closed his eyes momentarily, wishing to remember that scent and scene just as it was. It was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen in his life, and was currently fighting for the first place title against seeing Granger lick his Dark Mark the night before. He just might have to call it a tie.

When he opened his eyes she was still observing him, having not said one word. However, this was different than yesterday and this morning’s silence. It wasn’t because she was wrought with anger or anguish, it was because he had actually rendered her speechless and thrown her off. He, Draco Malfoy, had single-handedly befuddled the most famous know-it-all witch of the wizarding world who always had something to say on every subject, a feat that had never been accomplished before.

Draco smirked and walked over to her, her eyes following him as she drew in her bottom lip and begun nibbling on with her teeth. He knew her dilemma, what was racing through her mind; she could be aroused and she could be frightened, but she had never felt both at the same time. Interestingly enough, Draco acknowledged that not only fury, but fear could be quite the aphrodisiac, and now Granger knew it as well. What did she expect; he was raised by one of the darkest wizard families in Britain. Of course he would have some debauched sexual deviation. It could be worse; there was that one Death Eater he knew who liked to stick his dick in any hole big enough, human or not.

At the thought, Draco shook himself out of his abstraction. He had to get to the mansion. Taking another step closer, he noticed that her expression had changed; she now seemed worried and unsure.

“Don’t worry, Granger, I’ll be back and then you can fuck your big bad Death Eater all you want.”

He reached out to her, wand in hand, and she flinched. It was barely noticeable, but Draco caught it all the same. Wishing to soothe her, he tenderly ran his wand down her cheek and across her slightly parted lips, the tip barely brushing her soft flawless skin. She exhaled slowly and her eyes fluttered shut, and all tension that had resided in her body since his hand wrapped itself around her throat vanished with the breath it seemed she had been holding all day.

Smiling down at her, Draco stepped back and vanished on the spot before she could open her eyes and see that he had gone, the only sign that he had vanished was the cold whoosh of air sweeping the room coming from where he once was standing.

* * * * *

Draco’s footsteps echoed off of the black marble floor in the cavernous corridor as he walked down the hallway to the dining room where most of the meetings the Dark Lord called took place. He hated the feeling he got every time he had to come to this place. The dark beauty and ornate lavishness of the mansion and its grounds did nothing to quell the heavy ball of detest and revulsion that manifested itself the moment he set foot on the property. He hoped it wasn’t another one of the asinine and pointless dinner parties the Dark Lord was fond of invoking. Despite the well prepared food that was at his disposal, Draco couldn’t think of one other positive aspect about being brought here. He couldn’t even entertain his favorite fantasy of a scantily clad Granger giving him head while he poked Potter and Weasley hanging from the ceiling in cages with a terribly long and pointy stick as the recently defeated and powerless Dark Lord cried like a little girl in the corner for fear that he would be unexpectedly mind raped at any point by aforementioned as yet to be wussified Dark Lord.

Arriving at the large double doors that led to the dining hall, Draco pushed them open to see that the brightly lit room was already full of his drunkenly boisterous colleagues sitting at the excessively long mahogany table, eating, drinking, and talking entirely too loudly. Draco made his way past the occupied chairs to his assigned seat. Yes, they had assigned seats; the Dark Lord was very particular about who sat near him, amongst other things, and had been known to stop everything in the middle of dinner to rearrange people like a twisted game of musical chairs. Draco had a sneaking suspicion that he had a closeted case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, making him all the more mental, especially when he once ordered a drink that had to be the precise measurements and mixture of fire whiskey, powdered sugar, lemon juice, and exactly three and a half ice cubes. Once a deeply confused and nervous house elf made the mistake of using four ice cubes…it was never seen again.

As he neared his chair, Draco greeted those Death Eaters he could relatively tolerate…sometimes, and stopped to place a kiss on his crazy Aunt Bella’s cheek, who was already completely hammered and decided to regale those around her with a memory of when Draco was in nappies and had set the table cloth on fire when his nanny tried to feed him pureed peas. It was well known that no self-respecting Slytherin liked peas.

Moving away from the riotous guffawing quickly, Draco finally arrived at his seat and descended upon it gracefully. As of two weeks ago, he had been moved near the head of the table and his new spot was at the right hand of the Dark Lord, literally. Across from him, and on the left of the psycho serpent, sat Professor Snape, a position he had had since the beginning of the second war.

“Draco.” He said monotonously and nodded, his dark expressionless eyes meeting Draco’s from behind their mask.

“Severus.” Draco replied in the same tone, nodding in return.

“Ah, Draco, what a pleasure it is that you can join us tonight.”

The high pitched cold voice assaulted Draco’s ears and he internally cringed at the sound. Turning his head, Draco saw the Dark Lord smiling at him, and although he was pleased, the way his thin lips curled showed nothing but the pure black evilness that consumed the dark wizard. His eyes were no better, always red and burning with hell fire that threatened to incinerate anyone from the inside out, constantly keeping Draco on edge and expectant of anything.

“The feeling is mutual, My Lord.” He responded, keeping his voice devoid of any emotion.

“Good, good.”

As the Dark Lord paused to take a sip of his totally poofter drink, Draco took the opportunity to fill his plate with food that looked much more appetizing than what that cow Molly Weasley had brought to the meeting. He couldn’t help but notice that Snape was covertly staring at him under his hooded gaze, but when Draco lifted a questioning brow, Snape just shook his head, mouthed “later”, and continued with his own meal.

It must be something important if Snape was willing to take such a risk, alluding to a private conversation in front of the Dark Lord, but Draco disregarded it as his stomach grumbled. He ate in silence, deciding not to partake in the discussion on what was the best and most entertaining way to torture Muggles, and kept his eyes focused on his silver plate, only raising them to catch Snape’s, which seemed to take on what appeared to be regret and concern the longer the meal went on.

During their latest ocular scrutinizing of each other, they were interrupted by the Dark Lord clearing his throat quietly, a sure sign that he was requesting the attention of his most trusted followers. Unfortunately, that meant Draco and Snape right now, for Bellatrix was had passed out into her mashed potatoes a few minutes ago.

“Draco, I have another mission for you.”

Pure unadulterated hatred flowed through Draco’s body at the thought of having to do yet another near impossible mission. Didn’t the peon half-blood minion Death Eater’s do all of the dirty work?

“It is of the utmost importance that this mission be accomplished, for it will be a great blow to Potter and weaken not only his defenses but his morale as well. I believe that you are the only one who can carry it out. You are one of my most loyal and trusted servants, for you are smart, cunning, and unforgiving with the magnificent dark magic that flows through your pure blood. You have my highest confidence.”

Regardless of the ego-boosting, and true, compliment Draco still had the sudden urge to head-butt the fucking bastard as hard as he could. Would they kill him on the spot if he did? Probably, but it would definitely be worth it.

“I must tell you, Draco, if you do not succeed, there will be dire consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Good.”

Draco watched as the Dark Lord took another slow sip before giving him his new orders, likely pausing for dramatic effect, because as they all knew, not only was the Dark Lord a bonkers borderline obsessive-compulsive, but he was also a drama queen. However it did give Draco a chance to break eye contact with the arsehole to shift it to Snape, who had been watching Draco the whole time. It was obvious that he knew what the mission was going to be; otherwise the Dark Lord would have chosen to speak to Draco in private. So that must be the reason why it was the first time Draco had seen the understated emotions in his former Professors eyes since their discussion about his relationship with Granger back at Hogwarts.

“Draco…”

“My Lord?” Draco asked casually.

The Dark Lord leaned forward, making sure that no one but Draco and Snape could hear the cold villainous words that escaped his dementedly smiling mouth, his expression bloodthirsty and malicious.

“I want Harry Potter’s Mudblood. I want to torture and kill her so I can send her bloody, maimed, and broken body back to her precious Potter and his Order of the Phoenix. I want Hermione Granger and I want you to bring her to me.”

A/N~ Voldy's drink is actually a Whiskey Sour, modified by using Fire Whiskey instead of the "Muggle" stuff.

I am going to get started on the next chapter right away, so hopefully it won't take me 3 months to update next time. As for the upcoming chapters, Hermione and Draco are going to start thinking about how they feel about the each other, triggered by Draco's new mission and the results of his actions. But that's all the hints you're getting for now!

Thanks to all my lovely faithful and supportive readers, I love you all, and if you love me back, you can show it by reviewing! :-)

Roberta