Mistaken Identities

She should have kept the charm on. He would not have believed it possible but this was actually worse. Confident, sexy Hermione in soft sweatpants and a matching top that managed to skim and emphasize every curve she had was wreaking havoc on his senses. He still wanted her. He leaned his body forward and took the spoon in his mouth, looking up at her. He winked back. She blushed slightly. *Well, at least some things don’t change.* He sat back and let the serum roll over him. It was an unpleasant experience at best though it could be downright terrifying. He managed to control the urge to babble incessantly.

“Why did you ask me to stay... why do you need help?” She asked softly, looking him in the eye.

“I...” he choked out, trembling with the difficulty of keeping control over his mouth. “I cannot do this. I cannot be who my father wants me to be.”

“What does that mean? Who does your father want you to be?” She frowned at him.

“A torturer, a killer of small children, a mindless drone... and above all, Voldemort’s puppy. More than a puppy, a slave. As if that is supposed to be power and control; hopping about whenever some asshole says so. I don’t think he’s all that stable. Maybe he was, before I was born, but he isn’t anymore. I don’t have any interest in living in terror of Him and of the Ministry.” Draco abruptly shut his mouth. He’d said more than he wanted too. Criticizing Voldemort was akin to death in his world, a slow, horrible one at that.

“Oh.” Hermione’s mouth hung open a little and she looked surprised. “When did this happen?”

“I don’t know... the past year? There isn’t a specific moment. I overhear people at school talking about plans for the future and realize I never had that choice. That I will always have to hide because there is no way that He’ll win because He can’t kill everyone; even if He wants too. And what if I don’t want everyone dead? How can life be interesting with only Death Eaters to talk to? You might not know this but those people are boring! 'I tortured, I murdered, I skulked in shadows, Oh Dark Lord let me
worship you.' It’s enough to drive me out of my mind. It makes my housemates endless prattle about Quidditch interesting. Interesting!” He had completely lost any control over his mouth at this point. The only other time he'd been under veritiserum has been when his father and Voldemort had been grilling him to test his loyalty. He hadn’t been this out of control though and it was a good thing too or he never would have left the room alive. Maybe it had something to do with not being terrified of Hermione. “I watch my father suck down healing potions after he has displeased the Dark Lord. He beats the shit out of my mother and I can’t even feel pity for her because she turns around and feeds information to Voldemort he can use to beat my father. She’s almost as bad as he is at the revels. Dumbledore has incredible amounts of power and people still like him. That’s true of Harry too. That seems like more power to me than just being able to cast a Crucio. I want out.” He paused, breathing heavily.Hermione’s mouth worked in shock. At least he hoped it was shock and not repulsion. *Please, don’t reject me. I don’t think I can take it.*

Thankfully, he managed to keep that thought in.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” She was sitting very straight and tall on the bed across from him.

“No.” At least that one he could answer truthfully.

“Have you taken the Dark Mark?” She leaned forward slightly, head cocked to hear his answer.

“No. I’m supposed to just after graduation,” he replied.

“Have you ever tortured anyone?” She asked. She looked him in the eye as she asked it. He squirmed.

“What does torture mean?” He felt sweat beading on his forehead.

“Don’t be a prat, Draco. Answer the question,” her lips pinched together as she repeated herself.

“Not the way you’re thinking. Not like my father or his henchmen. But I am a Malfoy and I have expectations to live up to. So when my father demanded it I helped.” His face scrunched up on itself. “Okay, okay! Merlin’s Robe, this stuff is hideous. There was a time when all I wanted was for my father to ask me to help, to show he trusted me, to tell me I was worthy. I buried everything but the pride. It felt good to be wanted.” He panted. Part of him was grateful he was making this confession to Granger since she at least would kill him quickly. *How much worse can it get?*

“Have you ever raped anyone?” Her expression was flat and blank, something that worried him more than anger and disgust. He would not have thought it possible but his stomach knotted up tighter and he could feel the sweat start to soak through his shirt. He did not want to answer this question. Draco’s face screwed up as he tried to come up with a way to say this and lie.

“Yes,” he said, sounding strangled. Hermione’s face got emptier, colder.

“How many?” She hissed at him.

“One. Just one.” He shuddered at the memory. Her face looked disbelieving, though why she should disbelieve him when the words were being torn out of him was beyond him. “What do you want from me, Granger? You want me to say I liked it? Well, I didn’t! She made this horrible sound the whole time and her face... I fucking faked an orgasm so my father would kill her and make it stop. He didn’t of course, it got so much worse. I got to stay for the whole revel for the first time, a special treat for coming through with the capture of the Golden Trio. I managed to restrain my urge to vomit until everyone else was suitably occupied.” His lips twisted. “A lot of things contributed to me wanting out but that night...” He just shook, arms wrapped around his torso.

“What... swear to me Draco, swear that this is not a plot to do something evil, something involving betrayal or dark magic. Swear that no one knows you’re doing this. Swear you want Voldemort dead and his followers disbanded. Swear on something that matters to you.” Hermione demanded.

“I swear it. I’m not trying to do anything involving evil, dark magic, or betrayal. This was not how I envisioned my weekend in New York. Voldemort and his followers being no more is one of my most secret of dreams. I swear it. I swear it on...” he choked. “I was going to say on my wand but honestly, I can’t really think of anything that matters enough to me anymore to warrant swearing on it. I really want to kiss you but I don’t think that counts.” He needed to move on, get away from the images of that night, though he didn’t think he would ever really forget.

“So you didn’t know it was me, the other night?” Hermione asked softly.

“No. I have to say, I’ve never had particularly sexual thoughts about you, Granger. Well, no more than I do for any number of other people,” was his reply.

“What does that mean?” Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Er, can I not answer that?” At least he’d managed to return some semblance of control over his mouth again.

“Oh no, Draco, I’ve endured a lot at your hands and I want you to spill it.” Hermione smirking openly now. Clearly, he was not the only one who wanted to move on.

“I think about sex a lot. That means, sooner or later my eye has crossed most of the girls, and a few of the boys while thinking these thoughts. It may not be for more than a moment but I have probably considered bedding most of Hogwart’s. Sometimes much to my own horror.” He was not accustomed to feeling embarrassed about himself or sex but the whole situation was mortifying. Hermione was giggling.

“Harry?” She asked. Draco blushed. *I’m blushing! Shit! I don’t blush.*

“Ron?” She was laughing now. He felt the flush spread down his neck.

“Dumbledore?” She managed to choke out. He was pretty sure he was purple now. There might even be a little steam coming out of his ears. *What have I gotten myself into?* Hermione was roaring in laughing. Tears were streaming out of her eyes and she had rolled back onto bed bed, clutching her sides.

“I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” It slipped out his mouth before he could help it. Hermione’s laugh stopped and her smile died.

“We’ve gotten off topic,” she whispered.

"Yeah I know; I like it. Death Eaters never get off topic.” He replied. She cracked a smile at that.

“You know, you should have demonstrated you had a sense of humor years ago. It would have made life easier for everyone.”

“You’re one to talk. You’ve been acting like you have no sense of humor and a stick up your arse a lot longer than you needed to. This person in front of me is a stranger. Not that I really knew you but I thought I knew a lot more about you than I do.” He finally relaxed his rigid position and rolled over onto his tummy. He propped his hands in his head and asked, “now what?”

A/N Thanks for all the reviews! Hope y'all like the new addition...