Chapter One…
"What ever happened to the old days?" she asked, leaning against his broad chest.
"You mean the days when I could hate and despise you in peace?" he inquired, leaning closer whisper remarks into her ear. His warm breath tickled her and sent shivers dancing up her spine. She looked up at him and studied his pale face.
"I miss those days." She said, reaching to brush a soft hand against his icy skin. He was always so cold. He'd told her it was a condition with his body, but she only half-believed it. Her true belief was that his heart was so frozen that the rest of his body couldn't help be cold. It made perfect sense in her mind.
"I don't." he retorted, almost offended that she preferred them separate. It wasn't easy being around her. In fact it was positively unnerving, but he didn't care. He liked it that way – kept him on his toes.
"Why?"
"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, now perplexed by her strange logic. She had always been the smarter one. He laughed internally. If she was really the smarter one, then shouldn't she be able to see right through his façade?
"Not to me."
"Nothing ever is." He said beneath his breath. But since she was leaning against his chest, she couldn't help but hear his cynical answer. She chose to ignore it, however, seeking a more cautious approach to getting what she wanted. Angering him was never in her benefit.
"It's just that I miss people." She said, a slight frown adorning her ever-beautiful face. Her lip pouted a bit. It was his fault that she wasn't able to see Harry and Ron anymore. In fact, she hated that she was limited to the mansion. By no right was it ugly, but it was never homey. It was never her true home.
"Don't start with that again – you know it's not my fault. I don't want you to be unhappy." He said and kissed the top of her forehead. It was true – he had a strong connection with the brunette. He'd told his superiors so, too. All of them were rather shocked, but their Supreme Leader had laughed and called it amusing. He didn't care what his father said – her love was important to him. Not as important as other things, but it was definitely a priority.
"I know…but sometimes I just wish…"
"Careful what you wish for." He countered. She had an extreme weakness for spilling her heart out to him. He never told his superior's anything they really wanted to know – only what they needed. He would always tell them that it was his job to know her and their job to destroy her. They would all grin and snicker. Most of them thought he was soft from his choice of missions. But in fact, it hadn't truly been his choice. It had been Voldemort's.
Hermione slapped him playfully on his hand. He could be so mysterious sometimes. Like the times when he went out at night and them showed up in the early morning – so early that the moon was still high in the sky -- demanding her. She was usually easy to comply, but she always wondered where he went that made him so sensuous. She never minded or asked – even though she was dying too. But then, perhaps, he would ask about her.
Draco spent his days at work – she knew that much. If he were doing something risky or stupid like consorting with Dark Arts, he wouldn't be there at the Ministry every time she called. He was rather reliable, in a sense.
The young Malfoy was hard-pressed to keep his personal life separate from his assignment. Especially when cloaked, old men asked about his sex life and wanted to know every intimate detail of his personal relationship with Hermione. He was almost tempted to brag about his attractive wife, but he did everything in his power to protect his beloved from their scrutiny.
For the both of them, they had no idea of the other. They were counterparts only in bed. On the occasion when they did take the time for a deep conversation, such as this one, they often ended in an unhappy silence.
"Your fingers are purple, dear." She said, drawing him back to the moment and making him wonder how long he had been stuck in the quicksand of his reverie. She was staring expectantly at him, warm brown alight with wonder.
"Heart condition."
Draco had a bad habit of never forming complete sentences. He would only state what needed to be stated. Less was more. However, his illustrious tendency irritated Hermione to no end. As a writer, she was forever correcting his speech and coaxing him into completing his sentences. As of late, she had diagnosed him a lost cause, but always remembered to tweak his English.
"I have a heart condition, you mean."
"Same thing." he retorted, bracing for a lesson on grammar. Ever since she had been secluded to the Manor, she felt the need to take out her intellectual practices on him. Usually he didn't mind, but now all he wanted was for her to shut up.
"Whatever you say, darling."
Marriage was a funny thing for them. Hermione was the mistress of the house whenever Draco was away, which was often, and he was the master of all things the second her returned. This was a strange conversion for Hermione, and she frequently forgot the unspoken rules. She dared not make him angry, though. That might end with a mistake beyond repair. And Hermione could not afford mistakes right now. Especially now.
"I want to hold a party here tomorrow." He said, the randomness of his words catching her off guard.
"But…but-but tomorrow?" she asked, stammering all the while.
"Tomorrow night." He stated calmly, taking great pleasure in the frightened expression on her face. It was a sadistic thought, but he couldn't care. These were times when his affection was overruled by a strong urge for cruelty.
"But I thought you were leaving tomorrow for Prague." She said, regaining her composure, but shifting uncomfortably.
His strong arms wrapped around her in a false feeling of protection. His intent was actually to keep her in place instead of comfort her, but she didn't know that. "I've just changed my mind. I want to have some friends over."
"What kind of friends?"
"Evil, malicious ones that want to gut me in my sleep. That kind."
Hermione frowned again, unamused by his strange sense of humor. She had already had other things planned for tomorrow night, but she would just have to put them on hold – the Master of the House had spoken. Sometimes she wondered if he took pleasure in her dissatisfaction, and if he did these things just to see her writhe in a hidden agony.
She stood up, a motion that surprised him. Giving him a displeased look, she said, "I have to prepare for tomorrow. With your permission, I wish to leave and arrange things."
Master Malfoy glowered inwardly. That girl certainly had a smart mouth. She knew exactly what he wanted – and she wasn't prepared to give it to him the way he wanted it. He couldn't outwardly scold her, seeing as she had the moral high ground, but it was extremely infuriating the way in which she acted to immaculate. And yet, that was one of her attributes that made her especially endearing to him.
"You are excused." He stated, waving her away with his hand. She had succeeded in changing his humors. He no longer wanted to say that he had feelings for her. In fact, he wished to hurt her as hard as he possibly could. But it would make no difference. If he did, he would most likely be dead in the morning. He was waltzing with the wrong partner. But that was what made it so exhilarating – living on the border between danger and passion.
A/N- Thank you all for reading this – my favourite of all the HermionexDraco stories I've ever written. I hope you enjoyed!
Have something to say? Something to bring to my attention? Something you would like changed? Then send a review of course!