To Play with Fire

b>Disclaimer: I own only plot and the pleasure of writing. All hail J.K.Rowling!


Chapter 7

To Admit Is To Submit

No, please, no! I'll do anything, just stop!

Draco didn't regret what he had done. He accepted that it was wrong on some level but he truth was, he was mostly disgusted with himself not the act. The outcome had been what he'd planned, the results were good at least for Hermione and that was all that mattered. Even almost a month after the event the gruesome images plagued his sleep from time to time but he still thought that he'd done the right thing.

Yes, Draco Malfoy had finally got over his skittishness and used the unforgivable on a real, alive person. On a wizard, on a pureblood. A fellow Slytherin.

Blaise Zabini.

He was a condemned man. Draco sat up in bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Merlin, he was a nasty bastard. He was a condemned man even if Zabini never told, even if no one ever found out and he'd never be convicted for real. He, himself knew that he was a criminal and he hated himself for it. Merlin, he thought, if it felt as bad now, when he truly believed that Zabini had deserved what he got, how would it feel if his victim was an innocent stranger? How the hell was a Death Eater supposed to cope with it? He didn't understand how his father did it as often as he did. Was it something you got used to? Draco had always known he wasn't as strong as his father, as cruel, courageous or wilful. He'd known it but he was still disappointed with himself. He was weak. Useless...

No, stop! Please, Draco, no!

Disgusting bastard.

It was laughable really, that all these years he had thought that he would have a hard time delivering a single hex on an unsuspecting muggle and all it really took him to cast a 'crucio' was a scorned dame. The fact that an 'unsuspecting muggle' had turned out to be a wizard and not even an auror was beside the point, because there was still no battle involved. He hadn't even given Zabini a chance to fight back. Draco didn't believe in fair chances an besides, failing wasn't in his plans. That's what kind of a person Draco Malfoy was.

Disgusting. I'm bloody disgusting! He sighed and got out of bed. The sun would rise soon anyway. Draco draped a robe tightly around him and went quietly to the window. He perched his hand on the frame and looked out. The night was beautiful, not dark any more but not light yet either. Artificial and grey, just like my life.

He had blinded and silenced Zabini before he cruciated him. Fortunately once was enough. Draco didn't think he would have been able to cast crucio the second time, not like that, anyway. He cast the spell and then spoke. His voice was cold and emotionless, his manner of speaking precise and cutting, wording exact. Draco didn't want to be misunderstood nor being forced to repeat himself. When Draco finished, he let Zabini assure him that he understood.

Please, I'll do anything, I promise!

And he had. It had been over three weeks since Blaise had admitted his duplicity and the reasons behind it to Hermione. The most important thing for Draco was that Hermione would never find out why Blaise had come clear. Draco had said that if anyone ever suspected that he had anything to do with it then blindness and muteness would become permanent. He had relied upon his reputation as a Death Eater of course and not solely on a reputation as a Malfoy, though maybe even that might have been enough. Zabini didn't prove to be very brave.

I'll do as you say, I promise! She will never know, just don't hurt me anymore, please!

Draco had succeeded indeed. Hermione was now single and seemingly content. She still spoke out in the classrooms and knew all the answers, still made most of her public appearances beside her two best friends and she still worked diligently in the library. Draco watched her when he could but after she'd said she didn't want to see him ever again he had never approached her. He even sent her the last of his contribution to the project via owl. Their work had received the highest mark of course.

Yes, she knew now, that he hadn't lied about Zabini being unfaithful but who would want to converse with a person that knew of your humiliation? No one liked messengers that bore bad news. Maybe she even thought that he had tried to hurt her with delivering the information. Draco left the window to get dressed. It was early to start the day and he was tired, but at least he had slept most of the night this time, even though nightmares still hunted him. In some he was trailing after a slithering snake, or the snake was following him. Then someone was pleading with him to stop and when he didn't that someone proved to be Hermione, her eyes wide with horror, cheeks streaked with tears. In some of the dreams Hermione was in someone else's arms, mocking and laughing at him, telling him how useless and weak Draco was. In short, the night had been a torture. And now his hand had started to hurt again.

Draco wasn't complaining though, he deserved it all.


* * *


It had been the most lonely month in her life. She had had a boyfriend only for some weeks but she was so used to the idea of him, to his constant presence, but mostly she missed the warm feeling that thinking of him evoked. She had had thought that she loved Blaise Zabini and even though she now knew that Blaise had never really cared about her, she still missed some of it. She missed having a boyfriend.

Hermione had not believed Draco when he told her that Blaise was on cheating her solely because she could not imagine, that someone she cared about would betray her like that. It didn’t seem possible. When she was told the next day that Blaise had been hurt, she had ran all the way to the hospital wing. He had looked awful, pale and fragile. Dark circles under his eyes and colourless lips made him look like he’d not slept nor eaten in days. Hermione had been told that he had been given sedatives to calm him but they hadn’t told her what had happened.

Hermione had been sitting and reading a book for couple of hours already when Blaise finally came to. The first sign that he was awake was a sharp inhale. When she turned to look at him, Blaise's eyes held fear in them but after a moment he averted his eyes, released her hand and took a couple of calming breaths. He didn’t answer her anxious questions, just uttered a single word, “Listen.”

And she did. He told her everything, how he was in love with Pansy and how he had thought that having a girlfriend would make her jealous, how he had been sneaking around with Pansy afterwards and how sorry he was to hurt Hermione. She listened in shock but didn’t interrupt.

At first Hermione had thought that she would never get over it, she was so upset that all questions about him being hurt fled her. When she went to her dorm room, she climbed on her bed and stayed behind the draperies till the next morning. Ginny had been with her the whole evening and night, listening and holding her while she cried.

The next morning Hermione went to classes as always, looking sad but composed and people who didn’t know about the break-up or the reasons for it were none the wiser. Ginny had wanted to hex Zabini to the nether world and Harry and Ron were all for it but when the culprit finally returned from the hospital ward he had looked so hollow, thin and miserable that none of them had had the will to raise their wands against the poor sod. Besides, Hermione had told them that she didn't care.

Then the rumours had started. Some said that Blaise had been tortured by Death Eaters, others he had been cursed with a fatal mystical illness and some said that it had been a murder attempt. The reasons and assailants were unknown, assumptions ran from wild to crazy and quite a number of them were plain stupid. One thing was clear to all of the Trio - Blaise had been through something that made him come out to Hermione and that whoever had done it, they had scared Zabini to death. He never talked to any of them and in school related activities he stayed as far from Hermione as possible and though after a break up it was perfectly natural, some still started saying that Hermione was the attacker.

Hermione just snorted unladylike-like when she heard these rumours. She was very curious about the attack but even now, four weeks later that was all it was – curiosity. She missed Blaise but she didn't love him and had started to think that maybe she never really did because who gets over a love of her life so quickly? Most of all she missed the feeling of being happy now but not the guy himself.

When she told the guys that, Ron had said that he knew exactly how she felt and Hermione saw that he really did. Ron turned out to be quite more intelligent in love affairs department than she had ever given him credit for. He never told her about his own heartaches but he didn't need to, they understood each other. Now it was Ron she went to talk to when she was feeling particularly down. Soon Hermione began to realise that Ron is probably in love and miserable. She was determined to help him get the girl or help him to get over it. She just had to find out who the girl in question was.


* * *


She was working at the same table again and he was standing behind the shelf as he often did, watching her, peeking through a stacks of books like a bloody pervert. She was sitting with her face turned away from him, almost in profile, and reading a passage in the book in front of her. It was a long one this time because she hadn’t written anything in over three minutes. A lock of hair fell before her eyes and she blew at it, annoyed. It came back down again but she resumed reading. Then she finally took her quill and turned to the parchment.

Draco loved the way she held the narrow feather, three fingers wrapped around it, strong, confident and gentle at the same time. Merlin, how he longed to be that quill! He reached for his inner breast pocket just to touch it from the outside. One of his most treasured possessions was still there but Draco didn't take it out for all to see - he usually did it in the privacy of his bed, behind the closed draperies. He took it out on the lonely nights touching and caressing it. The treasure was acquired when they were still working on the project together. She had left it behind one evening and he hadn't been able to resist the temptation. He pocketed the it and even when he heard her complaining about missing her favourite quill, he never gave it back. He was a selfish bastard.

Looking at her now he felt sad and empty. Was that what they called love? Because he knew it was more than the crush he had felt a couple of years ago in France. At times it was an all-consuming passion, devouring and burning his cold and hollow soul or a harsh ray of light painfully stabbing into the darkness of his heart. And yet at times it was a gentle glow, as peaceful as a soft sunrise on a summer morning or a bright warming flame in the dusk of a winter night.

He clenched his fists but continued staring. The irritating lock was still there, in front of her eyes and now she finally put it behind her ear, smoothing it down, slowly and sensually, as it seemed to Draco. Sweet Morgana, how he longed to be that lock now! She wrote for a few moments more and turned back to the book. Her brow creased as she concentrated on a difficult or perhaps interesting information. She followed the text with her index finger and wetted her lips. Draco suppressed a groan.


* * *


She didn't understand it. Draco was a mystery, fascinating but dangerous, a contradiction and a puzzle. Sometimes he acted like he was interested in her – for whatever reason - but mostly he feigned indifference but she knew that it wasn't. She knew that because he was watching her constantly whenever they were in the same room together. Like now. She was working on an essay and he was standing behind the same shelf as he always was when he was watching her. Sometimes she even thought that he knew that she knew.

It was not a little creepy and if it were anyone but him she would have thought that he fancied her. But Draco Malfoy wasn't the guy to fall in love at all, much less into a muggle-born like herself. It had to be like the writing of that project, a ploy to spy on Harry, that's what it had to have been, right?

Although, if that was the truth, wouldn't he have at least tried to make some sort of a contact by now? He had to know that she had realised he was telling the truth about Blaise. Still, they never conversed. Since she had told him to get out of her sight he had been acting like they didn't know each other at all. He remained in her presence only when there was a solid reason for it and departed whenever he could but sometimes she thought that she felt his eyes on her even when he himself was nowhere to be seen.

She had talked to the boys and only one solution seemed to be logical, though at the same time not logical enough. If Draco Malfoy's object was indeed spying on them, then his strange curiosity should be for the same reasons. It was time to put the theory to the test.

Hermione rose from the seat and headed for the shelf but when she reached it Malfoy was already gone. She walked through some aisles and found him sitting near the fire hearth engrossed with a book.

“Malfoy?”

He flinched. Hermione stared at him in astonishment. He had actually flinched!

“What?” His voice was level, not loud or quiet, just insolent as if the project had never been. Draco raised his head and looked her directly into the eyes. They were deep grey and cold but not guarded as well as usually; she saw a challenge and something else she could not define in them.

“I'd like word with you,” She took a breath and elaborated, “about what happened.” And then his eyes revealed something she'd never expected to find there – panic.

To Be Continued...


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