Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger. Winter. 2010.
Prologue
Black market potions had been a booming industry post Lord Voldemort's brief reign over the wizarding world. The number of witches and wizards dependant on drug potions sky-rocketed, as did the number of black market potion brewers and sellers.
Two previous Hogwarts students, no matter how different they were in their respective lives, both knew exactly how true this was.
Draco Malfoy, former school bully and son of infamous death eater Lucius Malfoy, is slouched over and barely conscious on his tattered, puce green sofa in the small, dark living room of his one bedroom apartment, downtown. The bustle of the local shops and shipment workers can be heard through the open window in his barely furnished kitchen area. A small vile of what was once a very strong depressant potion lay in his limp hand, the remnants spilling out onto his brown, cigarette burnt carpet. The rest of the contents of the vile are speeding, rushing through his poisoned blood stream. Draco's head lolls over to one side, his eyes roll back until all that is left to look at is veiny white and purple under eye shadow. The cigarette in his opposite hand ashes onto his pure black converse sneakers. He is slowly burning another hole into his moth eaten, seamen stained sofa.
Hermione Granger, boy wonder's know-it-all best friend, sits at her kitchen table, her face glowing from the candles placed strategically all around her countertop. She inhales the neon pink smoke wafting up from a small, shiny onyx cauldron dangling over a Bunsen burner. She bites her lip and opens her eyes, which glint mysteriously from underneath her fashionably cut bangs. Her long, now perfectly slick straight hair rests over her shoulders, against her black leather and lace corset top. She takes a vile and corks it with a small stopper. The heels of her dagger-like, black leather boots clack against the linoleum as she makes her way out of her house, down the cobblestone path, and out of her yard so that she can apparate to Knockturn Alley. The small glass bottles click together in the pocket of her blood red, velvet-lined cloak.
Xoxo-------
"I need it," she pleaded. "I need it so badly. I want him to be mine. I want him to love no other. I need him to feel for me the way I l feel for him. The pain." Hermione bit her lip and nodded professionally, silently sick at the young woman's desperation. "I'll do whatever it takes."
"Whatever it takes?" Hermione's eyes glinted mischievously. The young girl nodded. Hermione thought 'they can be so naive.'
"2,000 galleons." The young girl's eyes widened considerably. "I'll need some of his blood, too. Or his hair." The girl nodded and pulled a small baggy out of her cloak.
"It's hair." 'No kidding,' Hermione thought. Instead of voicing her opinions out loud to her potential client, she silently took the bag and handed the young girl a card.
"Pleasure doing business with you," she whispered. Hermione turned the corner, her heels echoing loudly in the Alleyway. No one questioned her presence there, for she was one of the largest, most prominent and wealthy drug potion lords around. Her appearance also added to her respect in Knockturn Alley. She mostly wore black, like all other witches and wizards there. She also wore an expensive black cloak, lined with blood red velvet. And Hermione always wore her hair dark and straight with her signature a-line cut bangs hanging in her mysterious brown eyes. All the wealthy pureblooded witches and wizards got their potions from her. They knew they were of the best quality.
When Hermione turned the corner dramatically, onto Diagon Alley- her cloak billowing out behind her- she came face to face with her old time friend, Ronald Weasley.
His appearance had not changed much since the last time she saw him, more haggard, maybe. His eyes were large, round, and a beautiful blue, though they were more dull now. His face was sunken in, and his lips were pale and chapped. Hermione saw Ginny holding onto Harry behind Ron, looking into a shop window. Both Ginny and Harry looked healthy and happy as ever.
"Hermione," Ron greeted. She smiled slightly and went to walk around him. Instead, Ron grabbed hold of her wrist. Not harshly, but desperately. "I need that favor," he whispered painfully. Hermione shook her head, her eyes pained.
"Ron," she pleaded. "You're trying to get better, remember? For me?" Ron shook his head and bit his lip as she brought her hand up to his face. He winced.
"Sorry," she whispered. Hermione dropped her hand.
As such a prominent drug potion administrator and brewer, not to mention the smartest witch of her generation, Hermione was able to recognize signs and symptoms of people on certain potions. She could tell what Ron was on at that moment, and that it made him much more sensitive to touch. Ron gulped audibly and grimaced. "S'alright, Mione." She smiled and grabbed hold of his hand, very gently, to lead him to Ginny and Harry. Once she reached them, she swiftly turned her cloak back around so all that was visible was the blood red velvet. Ginny nodded her head in greeting, clutching her purple cloak tighter to her small frame.
Hermione smiled at Harry and whispered, very quietly. "Keep an eye on him, will you?" Harry nodded. Hermione saw Ginny's eyes swell with tears momentarily before her tough as nails demeanor was put back in place. "I'm going back home, I'll see you two later." They nodded. "Ron?" He looked at her. "Wanna come?" He smiled as best he could at what she could possibly be insinuating
Xoxo----
Sex with Ron was a relatively enjoyable experience. Hermione had always had a way with words, and she knew that if she were to describe sex with Ron in one word, it would be- dark. Not depressing, or unnatural; not that kind of dark. Just, more subdued. Like something out of Spun. Hermione did not mind it. She sometimes enjoyed it, although it was almost always unplanned. An accident. Because Ron was mostly drugged up when they had sex. Hermione never seemed to enjoy it as much as he did.
Hermione and Ron lay together, a tangle of pale, sweaty limbs and silk pajamas. Hermione stroked his face as he slept. She had just woken up and wanted to go to her kitchen were most of her potions were still brewing. There was an assortment of different colored puffs of smoke dancing out of her kitchen. They made her house smell like flowers, sex and grass. She tiptoed into the kitchen and peeked into each cauldron, stirring some and smelling others. When she got to the cauldron that used to emit a dark blue colored smoke, she stopped to look very carefully at the dripping ladle that lay on her kitchen table. She then sprinted to the living room, to find that Ron was no longer lying on her couch as she had left him two minutes ago. She knew before she saw it. She knew before she heard the front door slam closed.
She let it happen again.
Just then she heard a knock sound. Hermione walked slowly to her front door clad in only a small black lace night dress. She wasn't one for frill but Hermione was very fond of black lace and leather.
Xoxo---
Draco tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for her door to open. He had just run out of his potions and needed a fix. He was unaware, or maybe he was aware, that this was not an understandable reason to be at her doorstep at two o'clock in the morning. But then he just saw the Weasel hauling ass out of her front yard, so he figured he was alright.
The door swung open, and without waiting for an invitation, Draco stepped inside the lavish cottage, and paced around the foyer.
"Draco Malfoy," she sighed his name. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" Draco did not look ahead, but at the floor, so Hermione did not worry about her attire at that particular moment. Even if he was staring dead straight at her ample chest, Hermione had no confidence that he would ever remember having been in her house in the first place.
To say he was a desperate client would be an understatement.
"Fuck you, Granger. Give me the potion, and I'll be out of here." Hermione's eyes narrowed. She combed her long locks over one shoulder and began walking into the living room.
"You better watch who you're talking to, Malfoy, I'm not one of your cronies." she paused and turned around to face him. "Where's the money you owe me?" Hermione rose a single, perfectly manicured eyebrow and pursed her lips, waiting for his answer, knowing it all the while. Malfoy rubbed his forehead and bit his lips. Hermione had never seen him worse for wear. His eyes were bloodshot. There were shadows pressing around his sockets. He looked thin and lanky. There were cigarette burns in his shoes and clothes. Hermione rolled her eyes and thanked God that she made the potions, and did not drink them anymore.
"I don't have it right now, but I will soon." Hermione scoffed and looked into his glassy eyes.
"From who, Malfoy? Daddy can't bail you out again. You owe him money, too, remember?" Malfoy grunted in response.
"I know that, alright." He sighed. "You'll get your money, Granger. And then some." Draco looked her up and down and smirked at her lacy dressing gown. Hermione, who was not amused, gestured for him to follow her. They walked through her living room.
"It smells like sex in here." Hermione stopped walking and turned around to look him straight on.
"Do you fucking want the potion or not?" Draco smirked. "I could always magically castrate you, if you prefer?"
"Little sensitive, huh, Granger?"
"Just stay here. And don't touch anything." Draco rubbed back and forth across the stubble on his chin.
"Whatever you say, princess." Hermione rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen, straight to a dusty white potion. She poured a small amount into a vile and closed it off with a stopper. She then poured another vile full of a red and white swirling potion that was sitting in a cauldron on her countertop versus her kitchen table, like the rest of the potions were. She corked that vile with a stopper and pocketed the dusty white potion. When she went out to the living room she found Draco looking at a picture frame, but not the picture inside the frame. He had taken off the back and was looking at a second picture in the frame.
"I look at this a lot when I come here, don't I?' He asked. Hermione knew that he knew the answer.
"Every time you're here." He looked at Hermione and held out his hand. She handed him the candy cane looking potion first. "Take this first, you look awful." Draco put it in his pocket, and held out his hand again. Hermione sighed. "Fine, here." He pocketed that vile, as well. Hermione bit her lip.
"Three thousand galleons, Draco. " He sneered. "I need it next time you come around." Draco waved her off and sat on her couch. He smelt her pillows. He still held the picture, tight, in his hand.
"So who was it this time? Hmm? Some miserable old sod from off the street? Some poor lad who has no idea what he's gotten himself into?" Hermione was beginning to get very agitated. "Oh no, let me guess. It was the Weasel, because he really can't do any better than you?" Hermione yanked Draco up by the back of his collar and halfway pushed him out of her living room, into the foyer.
"Get out." Draco snarled menacingly. He grabbed her face in between his calloused hands and pulled her close.
"Know that I'm here. I'm always watching. I'll kill them. So if I were you, I would do a better job at trying to hide things from me." Hermione swallowed tightly, but showed no fear. She knew he was drugged up at that moment.
"Get. Out." Draco let go of her face and cracked his neck.
"No problem, princess. Just remember what I said." And with that, Draco stuffed the picture back into Hermione's hands and left her house with one cloudy grayish potion jangling in his pocket and the pepper up potion that he promptly smashed on the linoleum floor on his way out of her house. Hermione sighed and locked both locks on her front door before cleaning up his mess, setting up protective wards and charms and going upstairs to get some much needed sleep.
When Hermione awoke the next morning, it was because she had heard a loud knock from her front door. Before heading to check who it was, she glanced at the clock and threw on a small robe, cinching it at the waist. Hermione headed downstairs and looked out the peephole before opening her door and confirming that no one was there. Before she shut the door completely, Hermione caught a glimpse of a small white envelope with her name scratched on the top in spidery script. She picked up the envelope and brought it inside, where she waited until she was sitting on the couch to open it. Hermione was aware of the two faces staring up at her from the picture that was still resting on her coffee table versus inside the back of her picture frame where it should have been.
Hermione tore open the back of the envelope and let a small silver band fall into her hand along with a note. She closed her eyes and bit back the angry snarl and tears that threatened to come through.
Hermione Granger was pissed.
She slowly unfolded the note and realized that it was none other than Draco Malfoy's spidery scrawl etched on the yellowing parchment, although she knew as soon as the silver band fell into her small, smooth hand.. She read it quietly.
Princess,
This ring should pay off half of what I owe you. Your ring, I know, will pay off much more. Enclosed is the address of a pawn shop I am confident will pay you most of what they are worth.
I know you still have the ring. A small piece of long ago wrapped around your small, breakable little neck.
I think we're squared off. In fact, I think you owe me, now.
-Draco Scorpious Malfoy.
Hermione roughly threw the ring halfway across the living room and ripped the letter to shreds. She yelled at the top of her lungs, almost tearing out her long, straight locks, and once she was finished, took a deep breath.
Draco was right, it did smell like sex.
Hermione looked down at her coffee table in exasperation and caught a peak of the picture still laying there. Draco's face peered back at her, his arm wrapped around a small, glowing girl with a ring sitting proudly on her left ring finger. Hermione fingered the same ring hung on a necklace, wrapped around her neck. The black and white Draco from the picture looked back at Hermione, smiled a smug smile, and winked.
That's when Hermione lost it.
Draco Malfoy Winter 2010
Draco Malfoy walked away from Hermione Granger's neatly decorated, expensively furnished cottage, thoroughly and extremely pissed off. His converse sneakers were soaked through from the snow on the ground as he walked to his apartment downtown. Draco lit a cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling out of his nose and clenching his teeth.
The more he thought about his encounter with her, the more pissed off he became. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had never gotten a long, except for one short period of time. Draco brushed it off as being a successful business venture that he inevitably fucked over, like most things in his life.
Like his marriage. His relationship with his mother and father. His once, very hefty bank account. His schooling. Draco Malfoy had a habit of always messing things up. The very best things, he was aware, were the easiest for him to invariably destroy.
As he walked upstairs to his one bedroom apartment, he noticed the door was open. Draco was smart enough to know that that was not a good thing. Draco took his wand out of his jean pocket and crept along the wall, taking all precautions.
Hermione was not the only one he owed money to.
The door swung open and three men poured out from behind the frame. Draco's breathing stopped altogether. The leader of the men- you can always tell which one is in charge- looked at Draco, signaled for his men to follow him and said two words that had never scared Draco more.
"Get him." The two large henchmen followed after Draco as he bolted for the stairs. He did not get very far. Both men held his arms in vice grips. Draco was weak from the drugs and couldn't do any lasting damage without his wand. He was carried back into his house, where the door was closed and silenced with a flick of the leader's wand.
No one heard Draco's grunts, for he was trying to quill the satisfaction having him protest would give the goons. Once the men were finished beating him senselessly, they threw him on his filthy bed and made to leave. The leader turned around to Draco, who looked at him through one half-lidded eye, and said-
"You should learn to clean up after yourself, Mr. Malfoy. It really is a sty in here." Draco, consequently spit a puddle of blood out of his mouth and on to the floor, before promptly passing out.
Hermione Granger- Fall 2005.
"You guys should have studied more." Hermione traced a finger over the elegent 'O,' on her paper and looked at Harry and Ron hard. They were rolling away their 'P' papers and looking ahead, annoyed.
"You never have any fun, do you Hermione?" Ron asked. Harry laughed. Hermione bit her lip, and looked away, ashamed to show Ron how much his comment really hurt her.
"I won't lecture you guys anymore, but if you're serious about becoming aurors after we graduate, you have to focus more on your schoolwork and less on quiditch." Hermione huffed. "Why boys find that intolerable sport amusing, is beyond me."
"Granger, haven't you learned that no one is listening to you? Ever." Hermione looked up to find Malfoy staring back at her, and the hallways completely deserted at such a late hour. Ron and Harry had probably escaped sometime in the middle of her lecture. Hermione figured it was to go talk about quiditch, uninterrupted. Boys.
"Sod off, Malfoy," She replied.
"Goodness, Granger. I think you've hurt my feelings." Hermione scoffed.
"Feelings? I doubt your really capable of feeling anything."
"You're probably right," Draco mused under his breath. Hermione scrunched her nose up at him. She noticed his eyes were bloodshot.
"What was that?" She asked. Draco shook his head and went to walk away from her. Hermione, her curiosity getting the best of her, followed. "Let me guess… You've been sucked into using drug potions along with the rest of your Slytherin posse, haven't you? Really, I thought mind-altering drugs were beneath you Malfoy."
Draco sneered. "You know what Granger, even if I was using potions, it would be none of your mudblooded business. As for my 'Slytherin posse' as you so eloquently put it, they can do whatever the fuck they want. It should be none of your concern anyways. You don't know me, Granger. I wouldn't put anything beneath me. Except maybe you. Someone needs to fuck you hard and long and up against a wall." Draco smirked. "Maybe then you'll lighten up."
Hermione blushed scarlet, but not from embarrassment. She was angry. "You better watch your tongue Malfoy, I'm not one of your cronies you can freely dominate. Don't try to pull one over on me. I'm not stupid. You can see it in your face. I just can't believe you're the type of person to mess with stuff like that."
"Well, believe it." Just then, Draco pulled out a vile of clear liquid and uncorked the top. He made to drink it down.
"You're going to do that right here? In school?" Hermione huffed. "I could get you expelled."
"No, you won't tell." Hermione's snorted disbelievingly.
"And why ever not?"
Draco leaned in close to Hermione and whispered in her ear. "Because, deep, deep down inside that pretty, unassuming little body of yours, you want to do it, too." Hermione swallowed tight. Partly from Draco's close proximity and partly from remembering what Ron had said earlier. "Come on Granger, loosen up." Draco then handed Hermione the vile and waited as she reluctantly drank down every last drop.
Xoxo--
"Do you ever wonder why we never became friends?" Hermione asked aloud. Draco shifted next to her on the bed and closed his eyes, sighing.
"Sometimes." Hermione rested her arm over her eyes. "We know why, though."
"It kind of sucks, huh?"
"Yeah, it really does." Draco smiled and crossed his feet at the ankle. Hermione and Draco were both resting on top of a large bed in the room of requirement after they came across it, looking for some place to rest. The bed was open at the top and you could see a charmed sky full of stars. The wind was rustling Hermione's bushy hair into her wide, innocent eyes. Draco thought she looked cute. "You know, you're a lot more fun when you're not uptight Granger all the time." Hermione snorted.
"I'm not uptight Granger all the time. You're just so infuriating that uptight Granger is my default setting anytime you're around." Draco smiled wider.
"I'll try to remember that."
"So what was that stuff that I took?" Hermione mumbled.
"It was obviously a drug potion. One of the less addicting ones out there. You'll be fine. No cravings or anything like that. Though, it is a lot of fun to take from time to time." Hermione laughed.
"Yeah, this was fun." Draco nodded in agreement.
"And it's so easy. I can brew these things in my dorm room. Although it would probably come out a lot stronger if I knew exactly what I was doing." Hermione giggled and sat up, leaning on her elbow to look at Draco.
"What do you mean, if you knew what you were doing?"
"I do everything text book, but it always comes out, sub par. I wish I knew how to make them stronger. Then I could just sell them for money. Good money." Hermione looked deep into Draco's eyes and smiled mischievously.
Ron would be eating his words now.
Draco's eyebrow rose. "What?" He asked. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing really," Hermione replied smartly. "Although, I just thought of a pretty good idea." Draco looked intrigued. "But I'm going to need your help." He sat up as well. "You in?"
Draco could only nod his head.
Winter 2010- Hermione Granger
Hermione Granger strode purposefully to Draco Malfoy's downtown apartment. She had only been there once, but she knew exactly where that evil little snake spent most of his time- lying half conscious on a garbage picked sofa.
Hermione walked up to his door, a brass number nine hanging loosely from where it was once attached to the chipped wood door. It was partially open, so Hermione casually walked in.
"Malfoy!" She called. Hermione fingered the silver band in her pocket. "I hope this is not your idea of a sick joke, because I'm not laughing." No answer. Hermione looked around the apartment with disgust. She strode past the puce green sofa, into the kitchen. His small breakfast table was full of papers-mostly bills. She checked the refrigerator and saw that the only thing he had for sustenance in his house was an old, expired carton of milk and a half eaten sandwich. Hermione cringed as she poured the milk out into the sink. She went to rinse it down, but there was no running water. Hermione sighed and wiped her hands on a dish towel.
"Malfoy, seriously. Where the hell are you?" Hermione called out. She checked the bathroom and saw Draco's cloths lying on the edge of the tub, drying. A small bottle of laundry detergent lie next to the shower. Hermione shook her head. Then she walked into the bedroom.
That's when Hermione Jean Granger lost it once again.
"Malfoy?" She asked. He groaned lightly in response. Hermione rushed over to the side of the bed and assessed his injuries. "Oh God, who did this to you?" Draco did not respond. Hermione took out her wand and attended to all the injuries she could, her hand hovering, or lightly touching him all the while. She had never seen him look this bad. In fact, she had never seen anyone look this bad. He was bruised severely and Hermione could tell by the way that he laid that he had broken a great deal of bones.
Draco's eye was still swollen when Hermione was finished. He looked as though he had broken a couple of bones. Once Hermione was done healing a considerable amount of his injuries, Draco was able to speak. First, he groaned. Then, he cursed.
"Shit." Hermione put a hand to his forehead and delicately ran a finger over his swollen eye. "My whole body aches." Hermione sighed.
"What happened? Who did this to you?" Draco exhaled a long pent up breath and ran his tongue over his split lip. He clamped his hand down over Hermione's thigh when he swallowed the tinge of copper he knew was blood.
"I can't tell you," Draco said.
"Why not!"
Draco realized that he owed Hermione 3,000 galleons. He owed his dad even more than that. Hermione was never really approving of his life choices. He figured the less she knew about his new, pathetic existence, the better.
"It's just, better you didn't know." Hermione sucked in her bottom lip. And mended to the rest of his less severe broken bones. After he was mostly healed , he sat up in bed and looked at Hermione while she dipped a cloth into some water and brought it to a cut in his forehead. He continued to look lower until his eyes reached a small, delicate ring around a slim, silver chain resting around her long, slender neck.
"I'm sorry for doing that to you earlier." Hermione eyed his line of vision and saw that her necklace had slipped out from where she had tucked it underneath her shirt.
"You don't have to apologize. It was a very Malfoy thing to do. I expected nothing less." Hermione's throat closed as she tried to keep the tears at bay. Malfoy fingered the ring at her neck. They were now at eye level, so he looked Hermione straight on.
"I never meant to hurt you, you know that right?" Hermione set the cloth down and sighed.
"I know. But you did. You still do, sometimes." Hermione took a deep breath. "But when I think about the way my life would have ended up… How I would have ended up where we to have stayed together, I realize I'm probably better off." Draco's jaw clenched.
"Yeah, you are better off." Hermione sighed and got up to leave.
"You should be fine. Your eye will probably be swollen for a few days. Just keep icing it." Draco nodded his head. Before Hermione left, she sat his ring back on his night table.
"That was an awful thing for you to do, Malfoy." Draco said nothing and remained stoic, though he knew he had really hurt her. "I need 3,000 galleons by Friday. Or you can go and get your potions elsewhere." Draco nodded. "I will not pawn that ring to cover your potion debt." And with that, Hermione left Draco's sad apartment as fast as she could. She held back her tears until she reached her house, took the old, frayed picture off the table and held it close to her chest. Once she did that, there was no stopping the torrential downpour of tears that Hermione had kept at bay for the better part of five long years.
The Golden Trio. Fall, 2006
"You did all you could do at the time. Don't worry Harry, when the time is right, we'll strike again with fervor." Harry reluctantly nodded his head. "This had to happen. It's all part of the plan, right?"
"Yeah, mate, don't beat yourself up over it." Harry pushed back his black hair and sighed deeply. Today was the day that Voldemort took complete control of the entire Ministry of Magic. New programs and departments were being created, but the Golden Trio knew they would not last for long.
Hermione was especially resentful of the 'Mudblood disbandment enactment.' She could not wait until they took out the entire corrupted ministry, once and for all.
Over the years, The Ministry of Magic had been hiring covert Death Eater operatives without knowing it. While The Order was very aware what this was going to do to Wizarding society, they had all come to the same conclusion. That it would be better to take out an entire corrupted Ministry, for they knew that it was eventually going to happen, than try and discover which departments had been infiltrated and by which Death Eaters.
Biding time, so that when they were confident that the entire Ministry had been taken over by Death Eaters and faithful followers of Voldemort, there would be no mistakes. It would make their jobs much more easier.
It also gave Hermione, Ron and especially Harry more time to hunt for Horcruxes and practice dueling and fighting in combat. Hermione was kind enough, as well as smart enough to enlighten Harry and Ron in a few muggle defense mechanisms.
In the process of training for the final battle, the wizarding world took a drastic turn. Black Market industries were booming. Drugs, illegal weaponry. All out of control illegal sales, while Voldemort held brief reign over the wizarding world.
At this time, Hermione, Ron and Harry were all leading double lives.
Ron, who had once been the good natured, fun loving best friend of Harry Potter, was now spending a consequentially large amount of time drinking in bars and downing vials of potions in dirty hotel rooms alongside plenty of scantily clad women.
Harry, the boy-who-lived as well as the-boy-who-loved was fighting a loosing battle with his long time girlfriend Ginny Weasley. He had been having a hard time convincing her that their secret pregnancy was a blessing. Ginny Weasley was thoroughly convinced that she was cursed.
Hermione Granger. The know-it-all muggle born best friend to Harry Potter was living the biggest lie of all. As an anonymous contributor to the illegal, underground drug market, Hermione was aware she had an almost secret identity when she was not with her friends.
The wife of, then infamous double agent Draco Malfoy, was trying to cope with keeping both her lives completely and utterly separated. It was going to be her undoing.
Ginny Weasley, while not a vital, thriving part of the Golden Trio was a large factor in the defeat of Voldemort, nonetheless, and was also living a lie.
Ginny Weasley was affected as much as Hermione Granger by Lord Voldemort's futile attempts to control the whole wizarding world. Though she was not secretly married, nor was she brewing or selling illegal drugs, she did have as major of a secret. One that was tearing her relationship apart.
Ginny Weasley, who had grown accustomed to dancing in bars and taking her clothes off, was not sure that a baby was a wise career move at the moment.
One the complete opposite side of the spectrum, was a similar band of students. The Golden Trio's evil counterparts.
Pansy Parkinson knew she was lucky. She didn't get it half as bad as other girls. She knew that as long as she kept her nose clean and knew how to sweet talk Mr. Zabini, she would not get hurt. She also knew that if she raked in the most business, her pimp would be extraordinarily happy with her.
He would have no reason to beat her then.
Blaise Zabini had always been a ladies man. Now, he wasn't sure he could handle them all. In fact, he knew he couldn't. What with all his girls trying to get away with short-selling him, he knew that he could possibly die of a heart attack or ulcer, due to copious amounts of stress, at a very early age. At least he was not experiencing problems with some of his more experienced and eager workers.
Blaise Zabini had always had a soft spot for Pansy Parkinson.
Draco Malfoy. Son of infamous Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, had stopped living in his fathers shadow quite a long time ago. Now a renowned spy for The Order, Draco Malfoy was finally able to live the quiet life he wanted to. Free of darkness or shoulder crushing responsibility. Except for, maybe, when it came to his wife and their booming, black market drug potion business.
Draco Malfoy was always sure he would go places.