Untitled

Title: Untitled
Author/Artist:firefly_78
Rating:R
Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Harry Potter universe. It all belongs to JKR and associated companies. I make no money from the writing of this fic. I do not own any writings by William Shakespeare, most specifically the one used for this fic "And thus I clothe my naked villainy/With odd old ends, stol'n forth of holy writ/And seem a saint when most I play the devil" - from King Richard III
Warnings: scenes of a sexual nature,language, very brief innapropriate touching.
Summary:
Notes: For Aiden who requested a fic based on the above mentioned quote by William Shakespeare. A devious Draco was requested, one who doesn't start off as good right away and is strong with a touch of being scared or confused. A weak, snivelling Draco was not allowed. Aiden, I hope this fic lives up to what you wanted! It was an interesting quote you gave to work with so I hope I've done right by it.
A/N: In order to make this fic work some (if not all) of it will not be canon (then again DM/HG is not canon and we love it anyway, don't we?) Also it takes place in 7th Year, Hermione and Draco are both Head Girl and Head Boy. I've pushed back the search for the Horcruxes to the end of 7th Year in order to write this story. Thanks to my beta, JS!!!!
A/N 2: This was written for the dmhgficexchange: Shine a Light on Draco and Hermione. This was submitted under my LJ name firefly_78 .

Untitled
Part One

Draco Malfoy sat at his laboratory table in potions. He should have been paying attention to his cauldron but instead was too busy watching Gryffindor's Golden Girl help Pothead and Weaselbee with theirs. Stupid Mudblood! Didn't Snape say that they had to work on their own today? The low murmur of voices carried throughout the room, especially as Professor Snape had stepped out for a moment, trusting that Seventh Years would be a bit more reliable and actually do their work without talking. Granted they weren't the only ones talking, but they were the only ones in the classroom that Draco wanted to take the piss out of on a regular basis. Especially as a way to vent the anger that had been brewing ever since his father had spent all of his Sixth year in jail, due to Potter and company.

The young blond man's mouth drew into a scowl the longer he stared. Especially at the swotty little Mudblood. Hermione Granger had been a thorn in his academic side since First Year. Constantly besting him in all subjects and making him second to her top student status. The girl clearly had yet to learn her place.
Getting up from his table, Draco swaggered over to the other end of the room to stand near Hermione. "Oi, Granger, you're not supposed to be helping these buffoons." He smirked as his gaze swept the table full of Gryffindors and came back to rest on Hermione. He was a bit startled to see the ice cold glare she was giving him. Usually she just rolled her eyes and ignored him. Looking closer he realized her eyes weren't just cold, they also appeared dead, where was that spark of life he used to see hidden in them on a regular basis. Shaking his head, Draco wondered what was wrong with himself. Since when did he care what was in the Mudblood's eyes?
"Go away, Malfoy!" Came Harry Potter's voice. Harry's eyes were focused on Draco, his jaw clenched in anger. Hermione had been very detached for over a year now, she still helped her friends with schoolwork and the Order with research but it was as though the bright, caring girl they knew was gone. It also seemed the only one who could draw some sort of emotional response from Hermione was Draco. However that was not good news. Malfoy often made her cry, and took great delight in doing so.

"Shut it, Potter. I'm talking to the Mudblood here." Immediately Ron and Harry were on their feet, wands drawn and pointed at Draco's chest.

In response, Draco had his out and pointed at Hermione. "Try it and she gets Avada'd right now."

"You haven't got the balls to do it, Malfoy, everyone knows you were too weak to kill a dying old man at the end of last year!" Harry whispered furiously, not wanting the whole class to overhear their conversation. Draco blanched in response to those words. Damn it, he was not weak!!! And yet, the crux of it was he had not been able to kill Dumbledore, the Hogwarts Headmaster now lay in the infirmary, slowly dying from a curse which had no name, and no cure.

"Are you challenging me, Potter? Are you daring me to prove you wrong with your little mudblood friend at the end of my wand?" Draco jabbed his wand into Hermione's side and she flinched in response. Harry and Ron stepped closer in an effort to protect their friend.

"Why don't we step outside then, Malfoy? We'll duel and you can pretend to show us what you're really made of." Ron said. His face turning bright red in anger.
None of the boys were paying much attention to the girl they were fighting about. She stood there, Draco's wand tip pressing into her side directly below her ribcage, shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. Had any of them dared to look at her in that moment they might have seen the fear in her eyes. As it was, she quickly masked her expression into its normal detached look, and tried desperately to quell the shakes running through her body.

"Ha! Weasel, what do you and your poor, mudblood loving family know of proper dueling? I've been training with Master Wizard Channing Faulks in the art of dueling from the time I was six years old. What have you been training with....your sister's dolls?" Draco laughed, his Slytherin pals also joining in as Ron began to stutter out a response.
Waving his wand in a rather haphazardly manner, Ron began to call out a spell, but was interrupted when the doors crashed open. Snape swept in, black cloak billowing behind him.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for causing a ruckus. Draco, please return to your seat." He spoke in his low drawl. Draco gave another quick jab to Hermione's side and sauntered back towards his seat.

Hermione couldn't hold back any longer. The tears began to fall as she quickly shoved her books into her satchel and headed towards the door. Pansy Parkinson sat in the corner half-hidden behind the formidable shape of Millicent Bulstrode. A fortuitous advantage as no one saw her lift her wand and direct it towards Hermione.

As she approached the doorway, Snape moved out of the way. "Another 5 points from Gryffindor for walking out of class without permission, and 5 more for the vulgar saying on your Head Girl badge, Miss Granger."

Hermione ignored him and continued out into the hallway. Once there she glanced down at the badge she had been pleased to receive. Instead of saying HEAD GIRL, it now read This GIRL gives HEAD. Sobbing she ran all the way back to the Head Girl dormitory on the fifth floor.

Part Two

Draco sat just outside the owlery, debating over which letter he should send to his father. The brisk fall wind ruffled his hair as contemplated the options. A few days ago a note arrived from Lucius Malfoy, questioning his son on when he would join the ranks of the illustrious Dark Lord. Draco had sat in the Head Boy dormitories wondering how his father, always so strong and self-righteous could follow a half-breed maniac. Sure, Draco dispised Potter, Weasley, and the know-it-all, but he wanted no part in this war.

Sitting down on a bench outside the entrance of the owlery, Draco continued to mull over the pros and cons of his situation. On the pros side there was a few big ones. First on the list, making Lucius Malfoy proud of his only son and heir. That was a feat Draco had never managed to do thus far. Second on the list, prove to the entire wizarding population that he was no coward. Third was the thrill of bending someone to his will. After years of being forced to do his father's bidding, wouldn't it be nice to turn it around on someone else?

Draco felt that those were all valid reasons for becoming a Death Eater. Still there were valid reasons for not becoming a Death Eater as well. First on that list.....Death. Draco had no wish to die. He had no real wish to kill anyone either. Taunting and hexing them seemed okay, but killing....definitely not. Death was not something he wanted to see again, not after being dragged to a Death Eater rally by his father. It was a bloody miracle he made it home before vomiting all over the expensive Aubosson rug in his room. It was not an experience he cared to repeat.

Second it on the cons list, being disinherited by his father. Having his name removed from the magical family tree in the parlor, and no longer having unlimited access to his vaults at Gringotts. His name and his wealth were the only things he had left. The other Slytherins only spoke to him because his father was still the right hand man of the Dark Lord. Well, except for Pansy, who wanted his name and money. Draco snorted at the thought, no way would that tart ever get near the Malfoy name, much less the money.
And third, ironically enough was the Mudblood bitch herself. Whatever went on over the years she always seemed to have the ability to bounce back. No one ever saw her down or depressed, unless she was fighting with Pothead and Weaselbee. Even then she had some sort of zest for life, there was nothing and no one, not even Draco himself that could truly bring her down. Until sometime around the incident at the Department of Mysteries, of which his father had been involved and sent to prison because of. He briefly thought of words his father at had spoke at one of his first visits at Azkaban. He had mumbled something to the effect of 'Should've brought that bitch to her knees'. Draco wondered what that meant, especially when one looked at Granger and how she had been ever since that time period.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and stood up, still no closer to knowing which letter to send to his father. Making the choice to wait a little longer before answering, Draco headed down the stairs at a brisk pace. Barely a moment later he was knocked on his arse by a squirming mass of curly hair. The girl had landed on her knees, straddling his hips, her face buried against his chest. Her arms were somehow tangled in his cloak, her hair stuck on his Head Boy badge and she was currently wiggling around trying to get loose.

Draco lifted his head to see who his attacker was, but to no avail. She lifted her head at same time, bashing his chin and filling his nostrils with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon.

"Oh, i'm so sorry...I didn't see, was in a bit of a rush. Owww!!" She cried as he moved to pull away and tugged her hair with him.

"Sorry, here let me help you. Just, you've got to stop moving about. You're making things difficult." he chuckled. Draco quickly began to unravel the hair stuck to his badge as the girl on top of him went completely still. Then she began to shake.

As Draco worked to get them separated, Hermione could not believe the precarious postion she was in. She was straddling Malfoy! And he was definitely liking it!! This brought back memories of another time and place and immediately she began to shake. Silently, she willed herself to to remain calm until they were untangled. Please, God, no more breakdowns in front of Malfoy.

A few brief, heart stopping moments later, she was free. Scrambling to get up, she tried to get by Draco without him recognizing her. Unfortunately, that did not happen.

"Damn it, Mudblood! Now I have to burn these clothes. Your filthy stench is all over them." Draco rounded on Hermione. Pissed more at himself for reacting to her body, then at her for knocking him over, Draco failed to realize the glazed look that seemed to enter her already cold eyes.

Filthy stench echoed repeatedly through her mind in a voice deeper and more evil than Draco's. Her forehead beaded up in a sweat, and her palms went damp. Flashes of memory lit behind her eyes and it was a moment before she could focus in on Draco's words.

"....and really, do something with yourself, Granger. Always walking around and muddying up the place with your presence. Truly a disgrace to the wizarding world." Shaking his head at her, Draco spun on his heel and finished descending the stairs. Unknown to him, one of his letters had fallen out of his cloak pocket. Curiosity pricking at her, she bent down to pick it up and slid it into her bag. Perhaps it would make an interesting read once she was back in her room.

Part Three

Later that evening Hermione sat on the large tan sofa in the Head Girl suite. Her shoes had been discarded and she was currently curled up under a warm blanket. A mug of hot tea was on the table beside her and in her hands was the folded letter that had fallen from Draco's cloak. Part of her felt guilty for snooping into his personal property, but the larger part felt it necessary if Voldemort and his band of Death Eater scum were to be brought down. She shivered slightly, memories of the night in the Department of Mysteries creeping in.

It had been dark as they crept through the narrow walkway between shelves upon shelves lined with prophecies. Harry had finally located the one with his name on it and as they turned there was Lucius Malfoy holding out his hand for it. Words were exchanged, but it was not until the arrival of an impatient Bellatrix Lestrange that spells had begun to be cast.

Their group had gotten separated and Hermione had wound up down a deserted aisle, the light at the tip of her wand barely illuminating her surroundings. Without warning a hand shot out from behind her, covering her mouth and yanking her up against a hard body. The assaulter twisted her in such a way that she could not raise her wand to fend him off. She struggled frantically to escape knowing if she didn't she could be dead in moments.

Her attacker dragged her down another aisle that was seemingly endless and she kicked out with her feet using all her strength. Prophecies shattered around them but the man held her in an iron grip. The fighting went on around them and so no one heard her struggles. Eventually they arrived at a door and he yanked her into the dimly lit, closet sized office of the manager of prophecies.

Hermione tried to scream as she her body was slammed up against the wall, but to no avail. A silencing spell had somehow been cast without her knowledge. Trembling she raised her eyes to stare into the face of her assailant. Rodolphus Lestrange grinned madly at her.

"Well, well. Did the filthy little mudblood get separated from her pathetic little friends?" His voice was deep, resonating and it filled her with an immense amount of fear. She attempted to raise the wand in her right hand but realized that somewhere along the way it had gone missing. Her eyes went wide at the vulnerability of her situation. There was no escape and the way Lestrange was looking at her...she shuddered involuntarily.

"Filthy bitch. Thinkin' your lot is right. I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget." Hermione shrank back against the wall as Rodolphus towered over her. Reaching out a hand he grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head back. The other hand came to rest on her breast, squeezing harshly. A knee was thrust between her legs and lifted so that it rested against her center. Hermione shook uncontrollably. Please Gods, no, not this. Death, torture....anything but this.

"Now, now Rodolphus. A mudblood is not worth this much time," A smooth, cultured voice spoke from the doorway. interrupting Lestrange's attack on her person. Lucius Malfoy stood there, holding up Hermione's wand.

"We've got to get moving before the authorities get here. Kill her and be done with it." Lucius' ice cold gaze never strayed from Hermione's face.

"Seems you dropped something, Mudblood. Pity. I'm sure you could have used it to defend yourself, had you only been smart enough to keep it with you." He smirked at her and turned his attention back to Rodolphus.

"Whatever it is you're going to do with her, do it quickly. And for Merlin's sake, don't make a mess. Cleaning up after the last girl you devirginized was not pleasant." Lucius dropped Hermione's wand onto the floor and turning on the spot he apparated out of there.

"Well, Muddy, it's just you and I now. And your filthy stench is rolling off of you in waves. By the time I am through you'll be unrecognizable to anyone!" Lestrange moved to grope her under her sweater. However he never got the chance. From somewhere outside the doorway came a shouted "Petrificus Totalus" and instantly he was frozen. Hermione immediately shoved the petrified body of Rodolphus Lestrange away from her and dove for her wand. Straightening up, she felt a hand on her shoulder and screamed. She spun around, wand at the ready and came face to face with Neville Longbottom.

"Hermione, let's get out of here. The others are over in the room with the veil. We've got to help them." Hermione nodded and with a last glance for her would-be rapist and murder she fled, leaving Neville to secure Lestrange for the aurors to find.

Focusing once again on the present, Hermione wiped at the tears streaking her face. She huddled in closer under her blanket and checked the wards on her rooms to make sure they were strong enough to keep unwanted visitors out. It had been a very long year and a half since that night. She had never told anyone what happened but judging by the glances Neville sometimes gave her, she was sure that he had some idea of what she went through. One day she would have to thank him for keeping her dirty secret.

Since that night she had withdrawn. She wasn't nearly as chatty as she used to be and only answered when spoken to directly. Fortunately for her, her friends had given up on asking her what was wrong and just dealt with her as she was now. However, her true fear was Draco Malfoy. He was the reason she securely warded her rooms. He was the reason, or rather his relation to Lucius and Rodolphus was the reason she froze up and then cried whenever he dared to even look at her. Would he be just like his father? Could he kill? From Harry she knew that he had not had the guts to kill Dumbledore.

Turning the folded note over and over in her hands she contemplated what she might find on the inside. Finally she gave in and opened it. Her eyes greedily read the words on the paper. Then she read it again, and then a third time to be sure she was reading it correctly.

Finally she sat back and let the words sink in.

Father,
I am not sure how to tell you this so I will just tell you straight out. I will NOT be joining you within the ranks of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. I have thought this through and have realized I want no part of this war. For reasons I shall state forthwith.
1. You have taught that a Malfoy bows to no one. Yet on more than one occasion you were on your knees in the dirt, kissing the hem of robes that were filthy beyond reason. If a Malfoy bows to none then why were you on your knees?
2. You state that half-bloods and muggleborns will never be as good in magic as we purebloods. Then please tell me how a muggleborn is the top student, not just in my year, but in the whole of Hogwarts' history?
3. I know I will never live up to your standards. So I will no longer bother trying. My only question is when we're your standards lowered to follow a crazed half-blood who demands pureblood supremacy?
If I am disinherited after this I understand. Please be assured that the moment this is mailed I will be approaching Harry Potter and asking for his help in defending myself from you and anyone the Dark Lord sends after me. You will not win this war, Father.

Yours,
Draco Malfoy

Shocked was not a strong enough word to describe Hermione's current state. Of all the things she thought this note could have said, a flat out refusal to join the ranks of the Death Eaters was not it. The question now was what to do with this information. She couldn't just tell Harry. No way would he ever believe that Draco wrote that letter. Resting her head against the back of the sofa, Hernione let her eyes drift shut. She slept that night better than she had in a long time, her dreams filled not with darkness, but with hope.

Part Four

The fifth floor corridor was deserted when Hermione exited her rooms the next morning. It was Saturday and a Hogsmeade weekend so those that were going had already left for the village just outside of Hogwarts. Walking swiftly down the hall, she stopped when she saw Draco exiting his own suite of rooms. Gathering all the courage she could muster, she approached him.

"Malfoy." His name came out barely above a whisper, but he heard her.

"Mudblood." He responded. His tone was that of a person annoyed at being spoken to in the first place.

"I wanted to......You see, I..." Hermione stumbled over her words. She knew it would only be a matter of time before he truly started to taunt her, then she would run off in tears as usual.

"Spit it out, Granger, I don't have all day waiting for your brain to catch up to your mouth." Draco spat. Gods, did she have to stand so close? He smelled the vanilla and cinnamon scent that had enticed him yesterday and his mood plummeted. How could someone he was raised to think of as filthy, smell so good?

"Look, Malfoy, you dropped this yesterday at the owlery." She held out the note to him, glad to see that her hand barely trembled. Surprised to see one of the notes he had written to his father in her small hand, he immediately snatched it.

"What the hell, Granger? Now you rifle through other people's things and read their private thoughts?"

"I didn't...I didn't rifle through your things, Malfoy. You must have dropped it when we crashed into each other." Her voice was soft but became surer with each word she spoke. "And yes I read it. You don't have to, you know."

Draco knew exactly what she meant and was taken back at the notion that a girl he always taunted would take the time to try and bring him to her side. No, he didn't have to join the Dark Lord. But if he was disinherited and the Malfoy name stripped from him, who would he be? Seemingly reading his thoughts, Hermione spoke again.

"Mal - Draco, it's not the name that makes the man, it's the man that makes the name. Your name doesn't define you as a person. Only your actions show who you truly are." Hermione hoped that he would not be mad at her for speaking so openly.

"What's it to you, Mudblood? What business is it of yours what I do?" Draco's temper was beginning to grow. The thought that she had read his private thoughts and was now trying to 'help' him, of all things, was mind boggling. It didn't help that she had moved closer as she spoke and he could feel the warmth radiating off of her. This was the girl who burst into tears at the mere mention of the word 'mudblood'. Yet there she was, he had just said it and she was looking up at him as if she hadn't heard a word he said. Was she daft? Did she really think he wanted to act like friends, just because of a few line he had written?

All his anger and resentment that had been building over the last few years were bubbling near the surface. He opened his mouth prepared to spew forth all the venom and hate inside, when her next words brought him up short.

"You aren't him, you know. Lucius, I mean, you aren't anything like him."
He was silent for a moment letting her words wash over him. Was he glad someone else saw that as well? Didn't he want to be like his father? No, he didn't, but did he want others to know that?

Hermione watched him while he struggled with her words. Emotions played across his face. Anger, sadness, resentment, longing. So many facets to the young man in front of her, and she knew no one else had ever seen so much from him in so short a period of time. It made her heart break to see the naked need upon his face for acceptance and love.

She lifted a hand intent upon offering comfort when he finally spoke. "How would you know what I'm like?" his voice was low, and silently he cursed himself. As much as he wanted to call her names and walk away from her, he wanted to know how someone who he had mistreated could still find good in him.

She looked up at him and he acted without thought. Highly skilled in Legilimins he entered her personal thoughts. He needed to know how she knew he was not like his father. Hermione felt him enter and could have blocked him out of her thoughts if she truly wanted to. Flashes of her memories swam by, but it was not until he caught a glimpse of the his father demanding the prophecy from Harry Potter in the Department of Mysteries that he stopped to watch the memory unfold.

By the time he was through, he was near to vomiting. Not only had his crazy Aunt Bellatrix's husband assaulted Hermione, but his father had done naught to stop it. In fact he had encouraged Rodolphus to get it done quickly!! Pulling back from her thoughts he whispered 'Finite Incantatem' and was brought back to the present. He looked at Hermione and saw tears upon her face. How could he have ever wanted to be like the men he had just seen?

"I.....I don't...." Draco began to speak but was still at a loss for words over the painful memory he had just witnessed. Without asking he knew she hadn't told anyone. If she had, Potter and Weasley would never have left her alone as often as they did.

"Draco," her voice was shaky but she took a deep breath and held out her hand towards him.

He looked down at it. He knew what she was offering him. A way out. A way to stay safe. A way to become the man she seemed sure he could be. He placed his hand in hers and tugged her closer so he could whisper in her ear.

"I can't be that man, Granger. My course has been set from day one, but if we both live to see the end of this war, I will find you."