Title: Seduction

Disclaimer: Draco is not mine, nor is his world, I'm just playing there for a while.

Rating: M

Warnings: Smut, some angst

Summary: Draco returns to Hogwarts for his seventh year, knowing that his life is falling apart around him. Somehow he needs to find the strength to carry on.

Author's Notes: I really hope someone enjoys this because I had a lot of fun writing it. I wanted to explore Draco's feelings and reactions to what happens in his seventh year a little more thoroughly than I did in 'Take Me There'. I also wanted to write some romance and some smut. This is what happened. The title of this particular chapter is a tribute to an old fic, sadly now deleted, that I absolutely loved. The story is partly based on a quote that I read somewhere, credited to Zoe Archer. I believe she is an author, although I've never read any of her work. Good quote though!

Chapter 1: And So It Begins

There is always truth in seduction; that's why it works.

He was going back to Hogwarts.

This time last year he'd never have dreamed he would be here. He'd thought he was on his way to bigger and better things. So much for that notion. They'd certainly turned out to be bigger, but definitely not better.

Merlin, his life was fucked up.

Life had been akin one long torture session since he'd fled with Snape on that fateful night, knowing more clearly than ever that he could not, and never would be able to, kill.

The Dark Lord and Aunt Bella seemed to have permanently moved into Malfoy Manor and Draco wasn't sure which was worse. They were both as insane as each other. He just wished he'd realised it sooner. Maybe before he'd taken the mark, or before he'd nearly killed, or even perhaps before his father had been thrown into Azkaban.

His father was out now, but that was no consolation for anything. They weren't exactly prisoners in their own home, but they might as well have been, and Draco was more than a little relieved that he was able to escape to Hogwarts.

Not that this year would turn out to be much of an escape.

He was dreading the reactions from his friends and the Professors, and dreading even more the power plays that would surely be taking place in the Common Room. He would find himself dragged in against his will, and he suspected he wouldn't come out nearly as well as he had in the past.

It was lucky for him that Blaise, who cared about nothing and no one, had entered the compartment Draco had managed to find and had sat down as if nothing had changed.

It wasn't true of course, every thing had changed, but if Blaise was going to act normally, Draco was too. Blaise had a lot of influence amongst the Slytherins. Possibly even more than Draco was prepared to admit.

He cracked his eyes open just a little, regarding Blaise from across the compartment. Draco was curled up in one corner, his travelling cloak thrown over him like a blanket, trying to snatch a few hours of the precious sleep that was constantly denied to him at home. Blaise was opposite him, head buried in a book about Merlin, which he'd been engrossed in for most of the journey.

They hadn't exchanged much more than brief greetings when Blaise had arrived, but that was just fine with Draco. Blaise was here, demonstrating that despite everything he still valued his friendship with Draco.

It hurt Draco to admit how grateful he was for his presence, even to himself.

Sighing, he adjusted his cloak and closed his eyes again. At least here he knew he was safe, far away from the prying eyes of Bella and The Dark Lord. Here he was safe.

He let sleep claim him.

The Sorting was taking longer than usual.

There had been the usual motley band of bedraggled looking first years, but now McGonagall was escorting another group of older looking students into the Hall. For the first time Draco took interest in the proceedings, flicking his eyes over the group, who looked a lot surer of themselves than the first years had done.

"As you know certain regulations stating that all British students must attend Hogwarts have come into force," McGonagall was saying. She had shot a glare at Snape on the word regulations, which Snape was obviously pretending he hadn't noticed. "As such we have some new students here. Some have attended other magical schools, whilst other have been home educated. I expect you to welcome each and every one of them no matter what House they are sorted into. We will begin with those joining second year, and work up from there. Now, Nadine Patterson, you will be first."

A small girl stepped up to the stool and the Sorting resumed. There were seven second years and five third years to be sorted, but the numbers trailed off after that. Two fourth years, no fifth years, three sixth years and only one seventh year. She stepped up to the stool in response to her name: Madeleine Cardon.

Draco shot a semi-curious look at the girl who would be in his year and felt his heart skip a beat. Merlin she was gorgeous.

Her hair was long and loose about her shoulders, the colour a deep rich brown with just a hint of red. Even at this distance Draco could see her eyes were a bright shade of blue. She was petite, curvy and her features had a curious intensity about them that seemed to capture his attention even as he tried to tear his eyes away.

"Bloody hell," he heard Blaise whisper behind him, "I hope she's in Slytherin."

Draco knew what he meant.

Unfortunately the hat, which fit her considerably better than it ever fit any of the first years, decided to put her in Gryffindor and Draco cursed under his breath.

"Figures," he heard Blaise mutter mutinously besides him, "What's the betting she's a mudblood too?"

Draco didn't bother to answer. He was too busy watching the girl being welcomed by that loser Longbottom. As he glared murderously at him, the girl glanced up and caught his eye. He was too startled to do anything and she looked away quickly, saying something to Longbottom that was clearly about him because the next moment they both looked up at him and Longbottom spoke again. No doubt filling her head with all his evil misdeeds and tales of what a terrible person he was.

Unable to tear his eyes away, despite the fact that Blaise was talking to him, Draco watched sullenly. The girl cast him another glance, more curiosity in her eyes than the disgust Draco had been expecting. He raised his eyebrows and the girl looked away, just before Blaise waved a hand in front of his eyes, recalling him to the table.

"Hope you're not thinking of trying anything, Draco?" he growled at him, after a quick glance in the direction he had been staring.

"What?" Draco snapped, not best pleased to have his idle wonderings interrupted.

"That girl. You're staring at her."

"What?" Draco snapped again, realising that his eyes had somehow wandered back over to her of their own accord and wrenching them back round to look at Blaise. "No I wasn't, I was just thinking that there seemed to be less Gryffindors than usual."

Blaise cast a glance over at the Gryffindor table and was forced to acknowledge the truth of the statement.

"Potter and his little gang are missing," he confirmed, "And that other boy. Thomas is it?"

Draco shrugged. He really couldn't have cared less. It had only been an excuse to get Blaise off his back and he really wasn't surprised to find that Potter was missing, though he did wonder exactly what him and his little friends were up to.

Still, it wasn't important. He forced his attention to the food in front of him and listened tried to give his full attention to questions about that year's Quidditch team tryouts which he was going to have to hold next week.

The tryouts had gone reasonably well. He'd found a few decent flyers amongst the dross that had mostly turned up, and unlike Marcus Flint had actually gone for skill rather than size in his players, who were mostly from the fifth year and below. Now they'd all gone, leaving him to the peace of the empty Quidditch pitch which he'd taken advantage of by doing some quick circuits, relishing the feeling of flying again after so much time without it.

Eventually though he landed, grabbed the trunk containing the Quidditch balls and carried it back into the changing rooms with him. He dumped it and his broomstick away in the storage area and went to use the showers, emerging with a towel wrapped round his waist and using a second to dry off his hair.

A noise in the room made him pause in the act and fling the towel to one side. Had he imagined it or was there someone in here? A figure came round the end of the lockers. A figure with rich brown hair, dressed in Gryffindor Quidditch robes.

"Hello."

Draco's breath caught in his throat and he hissed through his teeth, feeling his cheeks turn pink at the sight of her. He fought to stay in control of his reactions. He was not going to show her that he was embarrassed at her catching him in such a state of undress.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, to try and get himself back on the right footing.

Unfortunately she seemed unconcerned with either his question, or his presence and was coming closer, until she was standing just a couple of feet away and looking at him thoughtfully with those bright blue eyes. Merlin, it felt like she was looking right through him.

Draco tried not to quail under her gaze. There was nothing he could do right now. He didn't even have his wand to hex her. He briefly considered just walking away, but wearing just a towel where would he go? He was definitely not about to start getting changed in front of her.

"Enjoying yourself?" he snapped as the girl rather obviously raked her eyes over his semi-naked form. She showed no sign of approval or disgust, he felt like she was simply looking at him as if she was an object she was evaluating for purchase.

"Yes thanks." Her lips curved into a smile and Draco could see a glint of mischievousness in her eyes. He wanted to squirm. Wanted to run away and hide from that penetrating blue stare. What the hell did she think she was playing at?

She took another step forwards and Draco automatically stepped backwards, wincing as he backed into the wall behind. There was nowhere else to go now if she came any closer. Which she did. Merlin, now she was so close he could even smell the faint scent of her shampoo.

"What are you doing?" It was taking all his effort to keep his voice under control. He absolutely could not believe this was happening. Of all the arrogant, presumptuous things to do! She obviously thought she was having some sort of effect on him and he was determined that she wouldn't, or at least that she wouldn't know she was.

The girl didn't reply. Instead she raised her hand till it was level with his chest, still looking him straight in the eyes. Draco felt himself tense. What was she planning? Slowly she moved her hand forwards until her fingers came into contact with his skin and then pressed her whole palm against his chest, looking at him as if to evaluate his reaction.

Draco hissed. Her touch was warm and soft and he cursed his out of control body, which had immediately started to react to the touch of a woman that he found incredibly attractive.

He froze and tried to look at a point over her head, determined not to give her the satisfaction of a response. He supposed he could push her away, but there was such a thing as good manners and she was still a girl, even if she was a filthy Gryffindor. He would have hexed her quite happily, but he drew the line at physically hurting her with his bare hands.

Unfortunately the girl didn't seem to be put off by his lack of reaction. To his horror she stood on tiptoe and brought her face up to his, until her lips were hovering just an inch from his. He couldn't move. Couldn't turn his head. His heart rate seemed to have doubled in the space of a few seconds and all he could do was look back into her eyes in complete confusion. She was going to kiss him! The treacherous part of his brain wished she would just get on with it.

The girl smirked, and then suddenly she was gone.

Before he could even recover his senses she was out the door and away onto the Quidditch pitch. Draco closed his eyes and lent his head back on the wall for support, trying to still his racing heart and trying desperately to stop the reactions she had set off all through his body.

Only when he felt that he was completely under control again did he eventually move. He changed quickly back into his school robes and spelled his hair dry. Then, compelled by treacherous curiosity, he opened the door, not to the grounds but back to the Quidditch pitch, and peeked around it, not wanting to be seen looking.

The girl was weaving in and out of the goal hoops at one end of the pitch and without thinking Draco found himself admiring her flying style. She looked graceful and effortless in the air. He also noticed with horror that she was riding a Firebolt. She was, unfortunately, the perfect build for a seeker, and Draco really hoped the Gryffindor team hadn't chosen her to replace Potter. He absolutely did not want her as his closest rival on the Quidditch pitch.

Quickly, before she could notice him, he closed the door and hurried away, back to the safety of the Slytherin Common Room.

That night in bed Draco found that he couldn't sleep. His thoughts were filled with that annoying Gryffindor brunette.

Madeleine.

He did know her name. He'd just been pretending to himself that he didn't. And he'd pretended to Daphne as well when he'd casually asked her if she knew anything about the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It hadn't looked odd; after all, their first match was against Gryffindor.

Chaser.

That was the position Madeleine was playing. The Weasley girl was taking over as Seeker.

Draco didn't know if he was annoyed or relieved by that revelation.

What the hell had she been playing at earlier? For a start she was a Gryffindor, so why on earth would she have wanted to touch him at all? He frowned. He was pretty sure her fellow Gryffindors would have brought her up to speed on everything terrible that he'd ever done to them, up to and including his involvement in Dumbledore's death last year.

Draco winced as he thought of that and rolled over again. Bloody Dumbledore! He'd long ago given up pretending to himself that he'd have ever killed the stupid old fool and that knowledge hung over his head in a giant cloud of 'what ifs'. He'd offered to help his family. If Snape hadn't come along and done away with him then who knows where they might all be now. Somewhere safe probably.

But no, stupid old fool had to go and get himself killed!

Now he was stuck here with some filthy little Gryffindor apparently trying to seduce him.

Or something anyway.

What the hell had she been doing?

And what the hell had he been doing letting her get close enough to kiss him?

Almost kiss him.

Damn it, why did part of his brain still insist that he'd wanted it?

And why had she been so arrogant as to assume he'd wanted it?

Draco rolled over and punched his pillow, cursing her for being so damn attractive. Those soft looking lips had been so close to his. So close. Just an inch more and he'd have been able to tell if she tasted as good as she smelt.

Fuck.

He punched his pillow again and got out of bed.

If he carried on like this his body was going to seriously betray him. He grabbed his ancient runes homework and took himself down to the common room. Sleep was going to be even harder to come by tonight than it had been at home and he might as well get something useful done.

Draco tried to put Madeleine out of his mind over the next few days. The problem was she seemed to be in an annoying number of his lessons. Ancient Runes was the worst. She was the only Gryffindor in that class, and he the only Slytherin. She'd taken to sitting at the desk in front of him, giving him a ridiculous smirk as she slid into her seat at the start of each lesson.

Her nose was too upturned.

She was far too short.

Her cheekbones weren't defined enough.

She was absolutely not the most perfectly formed woman he'd ever seen.

Absolutely not.

He felt like he was fighting a losing battle in his brain and he spent his potions lessons trying not to stare at her across the room. It was the same in Arithmancy. He'd eventually given up in Ancient Runes. He could see the profile of her features whenever she turned her head to listen to Professor Babbling waffle on about the different interpretations of various symbols. His eyes were draw to it without him even realising, and he'd never tried so hard to concentrate on his work in his life.

It was driving him crazy that apart from those smirks twice a week she was acting as if he didn't even exist.

As if she hadn't very nearly kissed him.

By the time two weeks had past and Draco found himself alone on the pitch after Quidditch practise his nerves were shattered. He did his usual bit of solo flying after the others had gone and then made his way back into the empty changing rooms.

"Hello, Draco."

It was her.

At least he was fully dressed this time.

He tensed as she came towards him, cursing the fact that he had left his wand in his school robes and he was once again pretty defenceless.

"What do you want?" he snapped as she came within touching distance.

"That's not very friendly is it?" she said, her lips forming that annoyingly attractive smirk.

Not attractive.

Not attractive!

She raised her hand and Draco found himself watching it warily, frozen to the spot. Where was she going to touch this time? She was reaching for his face, and then her fingers were sliding over his cheek, just as soft and warm as he remembered them. Caressing gently.

"You look like you need to get more sleep, Draco," she said quietly. Her voice was controlled. She might as well have been commenting on the weather.

Irritated Draco pushed her hand away.

"Don't touch me you filthy little Gryffindor," he snapped.

He would have felt better if Madeleine had reacted badly to that. If she had hurled an insult back at him he would have felt on safer ground, known how to proceed. But all she did was continue to look at him unflinchingly with those calm blue eyes.

She drew nearer. The hand that he'd pushed away had somehow come up to his chest. He felt her fingers curling around the material of his robes and he fought to suppress a shudder. Why was that in any way a turn on? His body was starting to betray him again.

Her lips were barely an inch from his. He tried to jerk his head backwards, but she followed, gripping his robes tighter as she rose onto tiptoe. Their bodies weren't touching. Not yet. But when their lips met he would finally get to feel her curves pressed against his chest.

She smirked, and then she was gone.

Draco reeled backwards, hearing the door behind him slam as Madeleine went out onto the Quidditch pitch. Damn it. she'd been so close. He cursed himself for allowing her that close again and cursed the fact that if she hadn't pulled away he would definitely have given in to her.

Enraged he grabbed his robes and stalked out the door. He was going to shower in the Prefects' bathroom today.

Draco sucked in a lungful of cold winter air as he skimmed over the lake. Much as he had to admit to himself that he hated the mark burned into his arm, it did have some advantages. Like the fact that no one was going to punish him for the technically against-the-rules flight around the grounds. The rule was there for student safety anyway and certainly nobody gave enough of a shit about his safety to bother punishing him for it.

He'd taken to doing this quite a lot lately. It was certainly better than sitting in the common room and facing the endless mindless chatter from Pansy. He'd dumped her last year, but the fact that he'd almost killed that silly old fool seemed to have enamoured him to her all over again. She'd clearly forgiven him for supposedly breaking her heart and was now trying to win him back. He didn't want her.

His eyes automatically flitted over to the Quidditch Pitch where seven red and gold blurs told him that the Gryffindor Quidditch practise was still going on.

She would be in there.

He cursed and tore his eyes away again, turning his broomstick towards the forest and pulling it upwards to soar gracefully over the trees. He had come here to get her off his mind, not to think about her even more.

Since that day in the changing room two weeks ago his nights had continued to be filled with tortuous imaginings of exactly how her lips would feel on his, exactly how good it would have been to have her body pressed against his. He hadn't needed to imagine the way her fingers would feel, his cheek still tingled every time he thought of it.

It was driving him crazy. He refused to give in to what his body was urging him to do and he couldn't remember when he'd last had a full night's sleep.

He thought he was going a little bit insane.

He continued his sweeps of the forest for a long time, until the setting sun made him look towards the Quidditch pitch again and note the line of Gryffindors making their way back to the castle. He swooped back down to the changing rooms, and caught a burr of red on the pitch as he did so. When he looked again though there was nothing there. He glanced over his shoulder. The Gryffindors were filing in the main doors. He must have imagined it.

A few minutes later he was in the shower, curtain draw behind him as he let the hot spray soothe him into calmness, trying to empty his head of all thoughts but the feel of the wind in his hair as he had flown over the lake. He washed quickly and turned off the water, wrapping a towel around his waist as he drew back the curtain.

He went to head back through to the changing area, but something in his brain was trying to get his attention. He stopped and listened. Someone else was in here. Another shower was running. There was the scent of cherry blossom and almonds in the air.

Frantically he dashed to the changing room door. A set of Gryffindor Quidditch robes lay abandoned on the bench.

Merlin, what if it was her?

He should get dressed and go. He knew he should. So why was his body turning without his permission? Why was he creeping along the row of shower cubicles to the end? And why was he now staring into the cubicle where she stood?

She hadn't drawn the curtain.

Merlin she was even more beautiful than he had imagined.

True, he'd probably given her longer legs in his fantasies, but he hadn't imagined her bottom would be so perfectly rounded; hadn't imagined her waist would be quite so slim or her skin quite so creamily smooth looking. Her back was to him, which was lucky because he felt his body instantly reacting to her naked form. She turned slightly, not enough to catch sight of him, but enough that he saw the profile of her chest.

Her breasts were perfect. They had never been quite so full or so pert in his imagination. Her curves were better than he had expected. They weren't ridiculously big on her small frame either. He could have cupped one in his hand quite easily.

Oh Merlin, his body had definitely reacted to that thought.

He suppressed the groan that had risen to his throat and stumbled away from her, barely stopping to hang up his towel again before he threw himself into the shower, gasping as he yanked the handle round to its coldest setting and felt the freezing water instantly calming the desire raging through his body.

Fuck!

He gave it a minute and then turned the temperature up a little so the water was at least tepid. He lent his hands against the wall in front and upturned his face into the flow of water, squeezing his eyes closed and willing the spray to wash away the images of her that kept floating before his eyes.

"Are you trying to drown yourself?"

Draco's eyes shot open and his hand came down on the shower's lever, instantly cutting off the flow of water. He head. Madeleine was standing there wrapped in a towel. He'd forgotten to close the shower curtain.

He choked and grabbed his towel off the hook, clutching it in front of his hips and glaring at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he spat, making as if to push past her.

In response she shot out her hand, blocking his way so that unless he wanted to barge into her arm he couldn't get out. He really didn't think he could cope with any skin-to-skin contact right now so he was forced to stop.

"Well…" She was smirking at him in that devilish way she had again, and Merlin, now she was actually stepping into the shower cubicle with him, trapping him against the sidewall. "Since you saw me naked, I thought it was only fair that I got a look too."

Fuck! How did she know?

The tiles behind felt cold on his naked skin and he concentrated on that, willing his body not to react to her presence. To her scent. It was filing his nostrils and sending his thoughts off on crazy tangents. What if she tried to kiss him again?

"Always so tense, Draco." She was gazing straight into his eyes again and Draco suppressed his shudder. He could close himself off from anyone who tried to use occlumens against him, so why did it feel like she of all people could read every thought in his head? His brain vaguely registered the way her wet hair was sticking to her skin, dark lines and curls on those pale shoulders that begged him to touch, to brush them aside so he could admire her curves without interruption.

Double fuck!

He was just starting to tell himself that he needed to push away that arm still blocking his escape and get away before he did something stupid when he felt a touch on his stomach. He risked a glance down. Her fingers were sliding lightly over his abdomen, skirting his belly button, drifting slowly towards his chest. He felt his stomach muscles twitch along with certain other parts of his anatomy that he desperately tried to ignore.

He snapped his eyes back up to her face. She wasn't smirking anymore, just looking at him with an expression that suggested she was evaluating his reaction. He was determined not to give her one, glad that the towel he still had clutched over his hips was hiding from her the reaction going on down there.

Those wicked fingers glided on over the sheen of water still clinging to his body. She had reached his neck now and her fingers skipped to his jaw line.

He felt his eyes widen as her fingers moved to his lips, ghosting lightly over them, only to be removed suddenly and replaced by her lips, hovering less than an inch from his own. Why didn't she just kiss him and get it over with? Merlin, why was she torturing him like this?

"You really need to lighten up, Draco," she whispered. Draco was ashamed to realise his eyes had fluttered closed. He snapped them open just in time to see her step backwards and yank on the shower lever. She stepped out of the cubicle just a split second before Draco found himself hit by a freezing jet of water.

"Fuck!"

He heard her giggle as she exited to the changing rooms. A ridiculously feminine noise that would have done funny things to his body if it wasn't for the fact that he was far too cold to even think thoughts like that. He twisted the handle round to warm up the flow of water and lent his hands back on the wall, resuming his earlier position.

He stayed there long enough to make sure she had well and truly gone before he exited.

By the time he made his way back to the castle it was pitch dark outside.

That night in bed he knew he was going a little bit insane. With his eyes open his thoughts were of her fingers running over his naked body, her lips tantalisingly close to his. With his eyes closed his thoughts drifted to her naked figure, standing under the shower, dripping with water. He'd only seen her back, but Merlin it was enough to set his heart racing and his blood surging to areas of his body that he'd really rather it didn't.

At this point he didn't know whether he wanted to kiss her or just hex that smirk right off her pretty little face.

Filthy Gryffindor.

Probably a filthy mudblood too.

The way her dark hair cut trails across her pale skin. Those soft fingers trailing over his lips.

Merlin, he couldn't have cared less what she was right now.

She was too hard to resist.

He was too hard.

Without his permission his hand had drifted down to his iron-hard length and an unbidden moan escaped his throat as he wrapped his fingers around it. He thanked Merlin that he'd been placing silencing charms around his bed each night since Blaise had started complaining that his tossing and turning was keeping him awake.

With a gasp he snatched his hand away. No. He would not do this. He would not get himself off to thoughts of some filthy little Gryffindor.

Even if she was the most beautiful woman he'd even seen.

His fingers had crept back down and suddenly he didn't care. His hand moved almost involuntarily and he let his mind drift off into those unwelcome, but exhilarating imaginings of her naked body pressed up against his in the shower, her lips on his, actually kissing. Her hand drifted over his body, in reverse this time. Chest, stomach, slipping lower, replacing his own hand.

He came suddenly, smothering his groan of ecstasy in the pillow, despite the silencing charm. Head spinning crazily as the image dissolved and the high faded. It never lasted long enough.

It could never have lasted long enough to take away the feeling of disgust that overwhelmed him the moment it had gone. He groped for his wand, casting a cleaning spell to rid himself of the sticky results of his orgasm and then scrambled out of bed.

He couldn't stay in it tonight. Not after that.

What had he been thinking?

Suddenly exhausted he dragged the top blanket off the bed and took it through into the common room, flinging himself down on one of the sofas and wrapping it round him tightly. If he squeezed his eyes shut hard enough he could almost pretend he hadn't done that.

Hadn't just come to the thought of a filthy little Gryffindor girl in the shower.

Sleep came unexpectedly easily, possibly because his body had finally had the release it needed. All the same he was glad when he woke up in the morning before anyone else came down and was able to return to his dormitory and dress in time to avoid any awkward questions about why he'd spent the night on the sofa rather than in his own bed.

The next few nights were much the same.

By the fourth night he'd given up fighting it. The self-loathing hadn't gone away, but he was ignoring it now. He did what he needed to do, cleaned himself up and then curled up under the blankets. He couldn't be bothered leaving tonight; he was just going to have to deal with it.

It was the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time