Code of Conduct

I would just like to thank Elizabeth (wandofhawthorn on tumblr) for the inspiration to this one-shot. She got me back into the writing game. It's been a while! Enjoy :)

It was three o'clock in the morning when Hermione awoke to a pounding against her door. The frail wooden frame shook under the weight as Hermione jumped to her feet, wand in her hand. She tried to put her shoes on as quickly as possible while still pointing her wand at the attempted intruder. Before she could get her left shoe all the way on and run out of the back door and Apparate away, the door broke open. A man stood in the doorway, shadowed by the dark room. She lifted her wand, slipping the rest of the way into her boot, and standing up straight.

"Get out," she said in a firm tone.

A chuckle came as a reply, and her insides froze. She recognized that cruel, sarcastic laughter. She knew the dark figure in the doorway. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Now, now, is that really a way to greet an old friend?" he sneered, walking in and closing the door behind him. His wand was held low at his waist, casually pointing at her.

"You're too liberal with the word, Malfoy," she snapped, trying to calculate how long it would take him to send a curse at her versus how long it would take her to run from the room.

"Don't even think about it, Granger. I'll have you on your back before you could take two steps," he warned, sensing her train of the thought. "Though it wouldn't be the first time."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his banter. "So let me guess; you're here to kill me."

He shrugged. "You know the laws now, Granger. Mudblood resistance is no longer tolerated. If you come peacefully, you'll be sure to live out the rest of your life in a containment facility. No mess, no fuss."

"I'd rather die a thousand deaths than be put into one of those prison camps. Don't think I don't know what goes on in there, Malfoy. I'd be put to work until I'm nearly exhausted to death; I'd be starved and raped and beaten; Forced into submission, and for what? Living another couple of years until they decide that perhaps I'm not useful enough to go on wasting Pureblood oxygen? No thanks."

She could see the distaste in Draco's face. He tried to cover up the wince at her words, but Hermione caught it, and nodded slowly. "Don't enjoy hearing the harsh realities of your lifestyle choice, Draco?"

"You shut up," he snapped, raising his wand and stepping forward. "You have no right to speak to me that way."

"It's been a long time since we've seen each other, Draco," she said, repeating his name again. "How many people have you killed since then, hmm? How many Mudbloods in hiding have you had to track down and murder or send into enslavement? And how grateful is Voldemort for your service?"

"Don't you speak his name!" he shouted, rage shaking him.

"Not on a first-name basis with our noble leader yet, eh?" she continued. "What a shame. You'd think that he'd at least give you the time of day after you mercilessly slaughtered-"

"That's enough! Enough, stop it."

"Do you remember the last time you saw me, Draco? Do you remember what you said to me?"

She could see him resisting the memory, but she knew it came anyway.

Draco ran his fingers across Hermione's bare skin, watching the goosebumps raise on her arms. He sighed loudly into her hair, making her look up at him, blinking her lazy eyes hard to focus them.

"What's the matter?"

"It's weird," he began," this is possibly the last way I expected this night to go, and yet here we are, and I'm not running."

"Yeah, quite strange," she agreed.

"All in all, not a bad way to spend my last night."

"Last night? You're not dying, Malfoy."

"Draco."

"What?"

"You can call me Draco, if you like. I think at this point it's warranted. I think after the first eight times, it was warranted," he laughed.

Hermione couldn't help but blush as she put her head back down on his chest. "If you say so, Draco."

"I do," he replied.

"You'll be okay, you know."

"Will I? I've seen what it's like out there. It's only going to get worse. Everyone has fought so hard, and they all knew exactly what they've been fighting for-and dying for. Except for me. This whole time I've been straddling the line between sides, and now it's over. It seems almost everyone is dead. My mother, Pansy, Theodore-"

"My parents, Ron, Harry-"

"Crabbe, Goyle-

"Luna, Lupin, Tonks-"

"Astoria, Blaise-"

"McGonagall-"

"Snape-"

"Yeah, everyone."

"Except us," he sighed. "Why us? What makes us special?"

"Well I know what makes you special. You're a Malfoy. But me? I'm just Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn. I have a pretty permanent expiration date stamped on my forehead."

"You think you'll die?" He sounded horrified.

"I know I'll die. Hell, you'll probably be the one to kill me someday."

"I wouldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't kill anyone. I'm not...brave enough."

"There's nothing courageous about murder, Draco. Nothing at all. But I don't think you'll have a choice. Just like you have to go and face Voldemort tomorrow, you'll probably have to kill me."

"I wish I could just say no. Just say no to him and to my father, and to everything else."

"You could."

"I will."

She smiled, wishing that were true.

"How many people have you killed since then, Draco? How many people have you been cowardly enough to murder since that night?"

"Please stop."

"Why? Because I'm right? I really had thought you'd changed. I saw that in you in those few days we were together. Where did it go?"

"I had to grow up."

"I'm sure you did," she replied bitterly. "Well go on and kill me then. Add me to your list."

He took a few more steps forward so that his wand was just a centimeter away from the base of her neck. She knew that she should have been nervous and scared, but she stood absolutely calmly in front of him. Perhaps part of her was prepared for this moment, having had waited for it for so long, but perhaps a different part of her believed he wouldn't do it. Either way, she didn't run or fight or beg. Her heart didn't hammer and her breath didn't catch. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, waiting for it.

The dreaded feeling of cold death never washed over her; instead, she felt rough hands on her shoulders and a warm mouth on her lips. She snapped her eyes open to see the blonde eyelashes of her attacker.

She thought that perhaps she should use this opportunity to stun him and run away, but she found herself unable to tear away from the heat of his lips. Instead, she pressed herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands trailed down to her hips.

He turned her toward the bed and backed her up until she fell onto it. He didn't waste time in climbing on top of her and recapturing her lips with his. The heat between them was almost immediately sweltering. She pushed his face away to catch her breath, so he ducked his head down to suckle on her exposed neck.

An unbidden moan escaped from her lips at the kisses and bites he left on her skin. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his face back up to hers.

"I do think you're breaking your Death Eater codes of conduct," she gasped.

"I won't tell if you won't," he whispered, smashing their lips together again.

His hands began roaming her sides and snaked up to grasp one of her breasts, while the other hand cradled her face. She moaned again, arching up toward him, wanting more. His erection was hard against her stomach, so she reached down to massage it, making him groan low in his throat.

"You're too good at that, you know," he muttered against her lips.

She didn't reply, just continued her efforts. In an attempt to even the score, he pulled the collar of her shirt down and put his mouth to her nipple. He barely needed to touch his tongue to it before it hardened beneath him. He flicked his tongue across her erect nipple, causing shivers to race up her spine. She growled impatiently, fiddling with his trousers.

He chuckled at her, grabbing her wrists and pulling them above her head. She squirmed against his grasp, but he simply tutted as he looked up at her.

"Now, now, Granger. Stop resisting your arrest, or it things could get ugly."

For a split second a thought raced through her head that he had tricked her, used this as a distraction. But the thought seemed ridiculous as soon as it occurred to her. That didn't make sense. He was teasing. She smirked down at him, not showing her momentary panic.

"Whatever you say, your Grace."

He scoffed at the mocking title, transferring both of her wrists into one hand, so the other was free to travel down into her pants. She gasped when his fingers found her wetness, and then groaned when one of them plunged straight into her without warning. He smirked down at her, and she hated him for making her melt into him so easily.

He worked slowly at first, then much faster and harder, until she was whimpering for more of him. He added a second finger inside her, curling them in as he worked. She squirmed slightly, desperate to have the use of her hands again so that she could grab on to something-anything. His hair, his shirt, the bed, anything. The feeling of his fingers inside her was driving her mad.

He finally released her arms and she immediately shot them to his shirt, which she pulled and ripped at until he finally let her lift it over his head. The loss of his fingers from inside her was nearly painful. But she knew something much better was coming as he pulled down her pyjama bottoms and knickers. She pulled her own shirt over head as he removed his trousers.

She bit her lip at seeing his hard cock free of its constraining fabrics. But her view was short lived as he was quickly atop her again, and buried inside her before she could take another breath.

She cried out at the entrance, digging her nails into his back. He moved inside her with an unrestrained force she remembered well from their last night together. His eyes were closed, just like they were every time during those short four days between their first night with each other and their last. She always liked to keep her eyes open and watch as the pleasure came in waves over his face.

She buried her fingers in his hair, breathing shallow breaths along with the rhythm of his movements. Every thrust was a new burst of ecstasy through her nerves. She moaned his name low in his ear, begging him for more. He growled low in his throat, strengthening his thrusts, going harder and faster.

After a couple more minutes, Hermione felt her orgasm building. She dug her nails into his scalp so hard that Draco's eyes shot open in pain. They made eye contact. He didn't close his eyes or look away this time. He watched her watch him as he pounded into her. He watched shudder and gasp as she rode the waves of her orgasm, crying out his name in a high-pitched moan.

She then watched the muscles in his face and neck go rigid as she triggered his orgasm. When he had finished, he rolled off of her and the sudden rush of cold air on her sweat-soaked stomach gave her a shiver.

"Well this certainly complicates things," he chuckled.

She looked over at him before bursting out into laughter. "Yep, you're basically screwed."