A/N: rated M for safety, brief mentions of sex (non-explicit) and language.


Being fuck buddies with Draco Malfoy had its perks. For starters, the freedom to call it whatever one saw fit. "Fuck buddies" was the recent favorite, but also used were "sex friends", "study partners" (Malfoy's idea and scrapped early on), and the ever common and unoriginal "friends with benefits". The latter wasn't very accurate once you took into account the fact that Draco Malfoy and Brynn Hether weren't friends. Outside of the bedroom (metaphorically speaking, for oftentimes when they engaged in their business, a bed was not involved), they never spoke directly to each other. Malfoy would laugh to his friends and refer to her on occasion as "Heifer", a play on her last name and a nickname that had unfortunately stuck since first year, despite her lack of resemblance to the creature since the weight vanished from her middle and reappeared on her chest and below her hips in an entirely flattering way. Brynn, for her part, would ignore the comments with a mischievous smile and play absently with her newest gift (usually a piece of expensive jewelry or new magical item).

That was the second perk to sleeping with Malfoy. A near constant showering of lavish gifts, given in exchange for her silence and discretion. Her friends would have thought it suspicious, if Brynn would have had friends. Her unfortunate nickname and appearance from first year until fourth had kept any girl from wanting to tarnish her reputation by befriending the "Heifer", and her appearance from puberty on, into what was now her sixth year alongside Malfoy, had elicited jealousy and little trust.

The third and possibly simplest of all perks associated with her situation, however, crossed Brynn's mind as she looked up from her journal to see Malfoy strutting across the Slytherin common room like a pretentious peacock. He gave her a single glance, a quick flick of the eyes to onlookers, but to Brynn she knew in that one glance that he was taking in every part of her. She sighed as he slipped out of the common room into the hall, and waited the customary ten slowly-counted seconds before closing her slim journal and standing. Feeling no particular rush, she kept her gait calm as, instead of following him immediately, she took the journal into her room (a private room, the only gift from the Malfoy boy which she had actually requested; he had apparently found a way to work it out with Dumbledore without the Malfoy name actually being mentioned), and slipped it under her pillow.

Once out in the corridor herself, and still in no hurry, she took a moment to ponder where he would be having them meet today. There was the empty classroom by Snape's old office (before he became the new DADA teacher), the hollow space beneath the third tapestry on the left from the Charms classroom, and then of course his recent favorite, the Room of Requirement. Brynn nodded to herself and set a course for that direction.

Students were still filtering out from their last class of the day. She knew people were staring. She could feel their eyes. The boys would drool at her curvy figure, dark blue eyes, and china doll face; girls would glare meanly at her long blonde hair and unblemished complexion. Some would blame magic for her change in appearance. Rumors floated about that she was part Veela. Brynn heard such things and laughed. Her talents didn't lie in Transfiguration, and she couldn't get a man to fall in love with her if she wanted to. Comments on her personality, however—that she was a quiet, mischievous trouble maker—were more truthful.

This was when Brynn had a free period, and her plan had been to finish the day's uneventful journal documentation (dutifully as she did every day) and then begin work on her Divination essay.

Instead, she thought, now I'm about to spend a pointless amount of time in the Room with Malfoy.

Not that the thought didn't make her tingle. The third perk: the sex. Amazing, visceral, spine-numbing—let anything be said about Malfoy, but it can never be said that the boy's a bad lay. But there was a fine line between stamina and the amount of time devoted in their encounters. He saved the quick ten-minute fucks for in between classes when he couldn't wait but when given a longer time limit, he used every spare second of it until she left feeling drained—physically and emotionally. It was times like this where she just felt...tired. She entered the Room of Requirement, where a bed had already been conjured by the magic, all-knowing room, and rubbed her temples. Apparently Malfoy wanted to go the more traditional route today.

He stood waiting for her at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a black button down shirt and black pants, his white blonde hair and striking grey-blue eyes a stark contrast. His face wore an impatient expression. "You certainly decided to take your precious time."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't realize there was such a pressing matter at hand. If I had known taking those few extra seconds would create such a problem for you, I would have rushed right out the door behind you." She removed her school robe and draped it carefully over a nearby chair. "I had thought discretion was your first priority."

His eyes narrowed and he stepped toward her dangerously, pushing her back against the wall. The familiar fire of lust in her body began with that simple action.

"You are subservient to me, do you understand?" he growled in her ear. Her knees rembled but her voice held a spice as she bit back, "I am subservient to no one, Malfoy."

It was part of their game, added to the heat of things. It helped get her motor running when he acted like a hardass, and her defiance helped get his started as well. He leaned close, biting her neck harshly, but as she hissed partially in pleasure and partially in pain, he deviated from his normal script to whisper, "How many times have I asked you to call me Draco?"

She took her lip between her teeth, fingers working deftly with the infernal buttons of his shirt, and as he swiftly undressed her, she was lost. Not once that night did he call him Draco, but in the frenzy, he suddenly latched his mouth onto hers and called her 'Brynn'.

She was still where he had left her—he always left first—nearly three hours later. She hadn't felt the need to move. Instead she had been thinking about everything. Everything. Her life, this affair, why everything she did was loveless in some aspect—Brynn Hether was an orphan. A poor orphan. Her parents had had nothing when they died, mainly due to her father's self-destructive gambling habit. She never told anyone, but that's how everyone assumed she got the nice gifts Malfoy sent to her. Things bought with dead Mummy and Daddy's money. But there was no money. There wasn't even a house. She stayed here on holidays and over summer, she worked for the first half to earn enough money (both in Muggle dollars and Galleons) to backpack through Ireland for the second half. It was her favorite place to be.

She didn't really miss her parents. It's not that she hadn't loved them; it's just that they hadn't really been around. Dad with his gambling and Mum in and out of hospitals all the time—sometimes for her job and sometimes just because she was constantly sick. It hadn't really been a surprise when she died. Her father drinking himself comatose a week later, now that had been a surprise. That had hurt her. Didn't she matter? Wasn't she important enough to live for?

But that was irrelevant now. She had resigned herself to not mattering to anyone, to not being important enough for anyone. To not being loved by anyone.

The next morning in the library, in a desperate attempt to finish her Divinations essay before lunch, Brynn huddled in a corner and surrounded herself with books and scrolls. She had even gone so far as to take the enchanted quill (a gift from late August) and have it copy notes from her Divinations book while she struggled to focus long enough to work out a coherent sentence that didn't sound like plagiarism. She noticed the shadow that passed over her as some reached for a book a few steps from her, but she ignored it. She ignored it until, that is, a stack of books from a higher shelf came toppling down on her.

"Ow!" She threw up her hands to protect her head, and when the dust had literally settled, she found herself face to face with Harry Potter.

"Oh, damn, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean—I have a Defense essay due

and I just wanted—Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She nodded a dismissal.

But Potter didn't go away. He peered at her very closely for a minute and said,

"Aren't you in my Charms class?"

Brynn nearly laughed. Instead, she said wryly, "Do you have Charms with

Slytherins? If so, then yes I suppose it's possible we are both in that class."

He raised his eyebrows, honestly surprised. "You're a Slytherin?"

She nodded. "That I am," she said, and shifted books aside to dig out her barely-started essay. It was her sincere belief that, given all she had heard about Potter, he would leave now and never associate with her again for the pure fact that she was a Slytherin. The enemy.

It honestly stunned her when he crouched down to help extract her essay and get

the fallen books off of her. "Look, I really am sorry about this."

"That's a lie," she snorted.

He frowned, his green eyes scrutinizing her. "Why would that be a lie?"

"Slytherin." She pointed to herself, to the Slytherin crest on her robe. "I'm tainted. Isn't that what you believe? Why you can't get along with Slytherins?"

"I can't get along with Slytherins because they're sneaky and conniving, manipulative, and they—" He stopped, but she knew what he had been going to say. "You have no right to judge me."

"Just as you have no right to judge me." She picked up her quill, another enchanted one which never required dunking into an inkwell, and set to work finishing her written sentence. "I am neither conniving nor manipulative. I am clever, I believe, and a trickster, but only a playful one. A court jester. I hold none of the malice for you that my classmates hold." She hesitated only a moment before referring to his unspoken words. "And I also find it quite offensive that you believe every Slytherin to be under the thumb of Volde—" Brynn sighed, agitated, when her lips wouldn't form the complete name. "I try very hard, but it just doesn't seem possible to speak his name."

"You don't believe in his…cause?" Potter said the word with barely concealed disgust.

"No." She gathered her things and prepared to stand, aware that she wouldn't be able to finish her essay unless she ended the conversation.

"Well then…do your classmates know you're not on their side?"

She glared at him. All she wanted to do now was leave. "My classmates are unimportant, and I am on no one's side."

"You haven't taken a side?" He looked confused, dark hair falling in his face.

"Do I really need to? War is pointless. I will have no part in it. Oh, I'm sure that if Volde…he were to need an army, I would be prime recruiting material should he go so far as to recruit a student. I'm a pureblood Slytherin, fifth generation in this House…" She stopped. There was something she wasn't saying. "War is pointless."

"How can you say it's pointless? What about freedom and something worth fighting for and—"

"War is for boys who got bored and are trying to prove their manhood. No other reason."

Potter stared her down, but suddenly, he smiled and shook his head. "You're weird."

Those two little words stopped her in her tracks. She struggled for a response, but…I'm…weird?

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Brynn Hether."

"I'll see you around." He gave her another smile and walked away, as she stared after him.

That night, she dreamed of Harry Potter.