Song Suggestion: Unlike Pluto- "Worst in Me"

One Hundred Galleons

Hermione

Hermione solved the mystery soon after. The wand that had been pointed at her throat was ten inches long, made of Hawthorn wood, with a unicorn hair core. She remembered it because Harry carried it on the last legs of their journey until his death.

She never thought of its whereabouts, never thought about what happened to it after the final battle as Harry lay bent and broken next to a disfigured Voldemort, both dead from the green light of the killing curse. After that moment, the details of the day didn't matter, drowning in her grief.

At some point, Draco Malfoy retrieved his old wand and reconnected with it.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful, Granger?"

Draco Malfoy kissed her and saw her half-naked. His hands touched her scars, lightly traced her stomach and would likely gone as far as she let him, if she hadn't discovered the deception. Her insides wanted to flip outside of her in shame. She had liked kissing Draco bloody Malfoy, and the realization made her want to puke up her guts. She tried reasoning with herself that she thought it was Ron, but the acid still burned in her throat.

But how and why was he in the room?

How was answered easily enough, when Ron staggered into the Gryffindor common room two hours later, holding his head with one hand.

"Bugger, this is one hell of a headache."

"Ronald Weasley, where have you been?" Her voice sounded shrill. She did not care. Her anger could not be contained.

"I dunno, 'mione." He rubbed the palm of his hand into his eyes, "First I was eating these chocolates. Next, I was a stone on the ground. I don't remember a thing beyond that."

Hermione ripped the half-eaten box from his hands and inspected it.

"Aren't these the chocolates I specifically told you to dispose of in the rubbish bin?"

Ron colored a little. He held up both hands in defeat.

"You're right, I shouldn't have. I just thought—"

"What? That you had some sort of secret admirer because you're the flubbering hero? Is that it?"

"Geez, Hermione. No need to get so angry. I was just a little hungry. Don't read too much into it."

Hermione gave a silent scream under her breath. She noticed the people who were in the room hid silently behind couches and doors, and a good thing too, because when Hermione was angry, she tended to lecture and rant, and nobody wanted to be on the receiving end.

"Next time listen to me. There are still people who want us dead. Your selfishness could have hurt your parents."

Ron paled. The image of a dead Fred and his mother's broken sobs stood between them despite Hermione not meaning to bring it up. It ate up the rest of Hermione's anger.

Hermione pivoted, stomped over to the roaring fire, and threw the chocolate into the flames. It gave weird sparks of green as the added sleeping potion sizzled and increased the flames. She didn't stay around any longer to watch it burn. She ran to her room and threw herself on the bed, attempting to dislocate her guilty feelings by focusing on the problem at hand.

She now knew Malfoy used a sleeping potion on Ron to incapacitate him and steal a hair for the Polyjuice potion. It was shrewd in the fact it helped him get past her wards, since most wards worked off DNA, despite wizards not understanding the science behind it, and she made her wards accept Ron long ago. She should have made them stronger, but to do so required darker magic which she refused to do, or old magic which she didn't have access. And why would she need to guard her room so strongly in the middle of Hogwarts in the first place?

The logistics were solved, leaving only one question: why? That was the question that mattered, and it took longer to uncover. She made a list in her mind of all the reasons it could be.

One: He had an infatuation with her.

Despite her head wanting to circle that easy conclusion, her intuition told her that it was wrong. For one, she kissed him first. He had looked surprised, almost hesitant. If that was his sole intent, he would have lunged at her first. Draco was a prat, but she conceded he just took advantage of the situation offered.

Two: A mission for the Death Eaters

There were still rogue bands of Death Eaters roaming the land, making attempts on Aurors. And they were organizing again notwithstanding half of them dead or in Azkaban. However, despite having the tattoo branded on his arm, Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater. She remembered his grey face after the Final Battle, just as shell shocked as the rest of them.

Three: His father's impending trial.

She thought of this reason while eating lunch in the Great Hall. She had been ignoring Malfoy's eyes all day, not wanting to give off the vibe yet she knew it was him, until she discovered more to the story. The moment it popped into her mind it rung true.

His father currently sat in a Ministry holding cell, awaiting trial for his crimes during the war. He was arrested a few days after Harry died. He put up no resistance and allowed both his home and all his assets to be confiscated. Draco and his mother moved into a home inherited from the Blacks.

It rankled Hermione the moment it happened because Lucius was so confident, despite participating in torture, death, and she suspected, quite a few rapes, that he would walk free. He wore a nonchalant smile in all his pictures, a face telling the public his money would win in the end.

Hermione refused to let that happen. It was a brand new world, free from Voldemort, and Hermione would do whatever possible to ensure scum like Lucius Malfoy remained behind bars.

Draco could stay free. He was young, and as far as she knew, never committed any serious crimes beyond allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts, which was done under duress. Narcissa also redeemed herself with the memories she gave that showed her lying to Voldemort about Harry.

However, Lucius was a monster and deserved to sit and think on what he did for the rest of his life without respite.

The only problem: lack of evidence.

All his victims left alive either were bought or blackmailed so they backed away from presenting at the trial.

Until Kadilila Codona.

She was a middle-aged muggleborn witch who went to Hogwarts with Lucius Malfoy. He made the mistake of unmasking himself moments before forcing her to undress and raping her. She wasn't sure why he risked identification, but assumed it was to soothe his prey.

The memory she viewed of the crime was something she couldn't easily forget.

"It's me or Avery. I think we all know who you'd prefer. It'll be like old times, Kadi," Lucius Malfoy said as he walked closer to the shivering woman.

The nickname made her come undone.

"But why?"

"The Dark Lord will know if you come out unscathed."

"Don't kill me," she had pleaded.

To his credit, Malfoy Sr. looked hesitant.

"That's not up to me."

The actual rape was short-lived and not violent, for Codona did not resist. Upon finishing, Lucius stood and cleaned both with a spell.

"That felt just as I remember."

She reached out and gripped his arm to stand with a shaking hand.

"What of my husband?"

"He's dead… or will be soon." His face hardened, as if remembering himself, and he shoved her hand off him.

"What of my son?"

"Probably dead as well." Lucius brushed his robes, as if he really didn't care, turning to leave.

"You need to save him."

"I don't need to do anything."

"He's nearly Draco's age, only a year younger."

Lucius Malfoy stilled, his back straightening. Hermione heard a deep male scream in the background, probably the husband. His face whipped around studying the woman for a long moment. She was still very pretty, with dark curls, dusky skin, and hazel eyes.

"What are you telling me?"

"I'm asking you to save him."

Hermione could not tell what Lucius was thinking with his shuttered expression. Finally, Lucius nodded. Just once.

"Hide in the closet," he told her. "If Avery finds you, there will be no mercy."

She broke then and sobbed on the ground for a moment before crawling to the closet. Once the door shut, Lucius sent a spell towards the door that disguised it into a bookcase.

Initially, Codona did not want to come out against him. It shocked Hermione to know the woman and Lucius once had a dalliance back in their Hogwarts days, despite her blood status. They had a history, they had a past.

But still. He raped her during the war, and it was something he had to atone for. Lucius chose to follow a madman, knowing the potential collateral. He was called to rape, torture, and kill and did not hesitate to do so, though from the looks of it, he did not take true pleasure in it.

Codona, under pressure from authorities, finally agreed to show her memories from that night, but with a caveat. She would only show them if Hermione Granger helped with the trial.

"She's the only witch in this cursed world I can trust. She helped defeat Voldemort. Broke into Gringotts. Withstood torture by Bellatrix Lestrange. Her intelligence is unmatched, and she's the only one here that would spit on Lucius Malfoy if he tried to bribe her. If anybody can help bring him to justice, it's her. Otherwise, I'll be destroyed during the process."

Why me? Hermione wanted to question, but on one level she understood. Muggleborns were a minority, and after the war, they raised her up as their champion, on level with Harry Potter. And the ministry was still riddled with corruption.

So it came to pass that Hermione, as a favor to Shaklebolt, sat in front of a pensive a few weeks before her Eighth year, watching as Lucius grunted over an old flame. She wished she could burn the memories from her mind, scrub her eyeballs. It stuck to her soul like fresh-chewed gum.

Wizarding courts could not retain or file the memory until after it was subject to review to make sure it was not tampered with. Several weeks before school started, Kadilila pushed the evidence into Hermione's hands.

"It's not safe with me or anywhere else," she explained. "We need this to find him guilty. It's the only iron-clad evidence. Without it, we're doomed, and the ramifications for us if he isn't convicted will be severe. I trust you can find a way to keep it safe because the ministry won't."

She almost said no. The responsibility was too great, but she eventually she agreed. The only place Hermione could think of as safer than the ministry, and maybe even more so, was Hogwarts. So she stashed the vial in her bag on the train, keeping it in her room until the time came for it to be reviewed.

Hermione forgot to factor in Draco. Forgot that he was still a threat. Forgot that he was smart enough to magic in the Death Eaters to kill Dumbledore.

"Hermione, did you hear me?"

Hermione snapped out of her daze, staring at the uneaten toast in front of her. Ginny leaned across the table, her eyebrows furrowed.

It hit her then—why Malfoy was in her room.

She stood abruptly, knocking a plate down in her haste. But she did not care. In a panic, she flew out the Great Hall. Her robes ruffled up behind her.

Draco

"I want it back, Malfoy."

The bushy-haired witch stared at him as if to slice him apart and feed him to the giant squid. He felt a smirk pull up the corners of his lips.

She stood at the entrance of an abandoned classroom, tapping a foot in anxious irritation. After seeing her fly out of the Great Hall this morning, her face contorted with realization, he knew it was only a matter of time before she found him. So he made it easy for her and waited by himself next to a stack of neglected textbooks in an abandoned classroom, his feet perched on a dusty desk in front of him.

He did not understand the exact way she tracked him but assumed she carried some sort of map. He's suspected for years Potter had something like it up his sleeve. How else did he stalk him so well in sixth year? How else did the golden trio sneak around the castle so easily?

"I've been looking forward to you figuring it out."

He could think of little else. A little thrill went through him at the memory of soft skin, of purple scars, of rose lips. Her nipples pebbling under his thumb, her head thrown back in ecstasy. The image of curls haloed around her head, looking up at him with wide doe eyes haunted him. If a kiss felt that fantastic, he could imagine fucking her would alter his reality.

Yes, she was dirty, but he found he didn't care. And contrary to popular belief, neither would his father, so long as they didn't breed or marry. It didn't threaten any belief. The mudblood didn't belong in his world, didn't deserve the wand that jutted out of his pocket, but it didn't make her any less beautiful. In the end, his instincts instructed him to pursue, and Draco didn't like denying himself anything.

So he wouldn't.

And after the last two years of mind fucks, he needed this. Needed a distraction that tasted like mint toothpaste and felt like magic spun silk under his fingertips before the pressures of reality hit again. One more year to do whatever he wanted, and he wasn't going to waste it.

Hermione's nose flared. She stepped inside the classroom and closed the door. She was dressed like an old spinster, with her shirt buttoned up the entire way, her robe covering any feminine attributes. He undressed her with his mind, popping one button at a time.

"What did you do with it?" She asked.

"Your wand? Well, you see, I stuck it up Weasel's—"

"Not the wand. You know what I'm asking about, you thieving piece of shit."

"Tsk, Tsk," Draco said, "Name calling is never going to get you what you want, and neither is brute force. You're here to make a deal. And I'm here to give you one."

"Give it to me, Malfoy, or I'll tell the ministry you stole from me, and they'll throw you in Azkaban for obstruction of justice, even without the charge of illegal use of Polyjuice potion."

Draco tapped his chin as if in thought.

"True, but it still won't give you what you want in the end. I'll have destroyed the evidence by that point—that is, if I haven't already—and then poor Kadilila will never get justice. And furthermore, little witch, you currently have no solid proof I was the one who took them. It could have been anyone, really."

Hermione turned purple in rage but took a few breaths and returned to a normal color. She glared at him.

"You talk of a deal. Are you insinuating you'll give up the evidence?"

"For a price."

"I find that hard to believe. Your father would be thrown in Azkaban."

Draco shrugged.

"It will be a high price."

In truth, Draco was not worried about his father. He had survived Azkaban before. Not that it was likely he would be put in there anyway. He didn't plan on ever giving her the memory in the first place, no matter what he promised. In every bargain, there were loopholes, and Granger was enough of a Gryffindor, she wouldn't see them.

Hermione grew silent. He almost saw the information absorbing into her brain.

"State your terms," she finally said.

"It's less of a deal and more of a bet."

"I'm not a gambler. I refuse to play games." Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. A steady shimmer of magic crackled around her.

"Where's the fun in that? Anything worth having deserves a measure of risk, wouldn't you say?"

In truth, Draco wasn't a gambling man either. He was a strategy player. He analyzed and weighed each move before sliding the pieces across the board.

"Fine," her eyes sparked. "Go on. Explain."

"I bet you one hundred galleons we'll shag by Winter Hols."

Granger's mouth dropped. He relished her shock. He whipped her off balance, just the way he wanted.

"Why you gross… I would never—"

"Oh, you will. Because I refuse to lose. I've developed a strange taste for bushy-haired know-it-all mudbloods, and I'm afraid nothing but the best will do."

Hermione's magic snapped.

"Accio wand!"

The cords of her magic wrapped around the wand in his pocket and with a powerful tug, it ripped out and flew into her waiting hand.

"Give me the memory, or I'll stun you and take it anyway."

"I'm not stupid enough to keep it on my person. You'll never find it on your own. Which is why you need to consider the second part of the deal. Call it incentive. Call it enticement —"

"I'm not following."

He lowered his eyes and stared hard at her until she became uncomfortable and shifted from foot to foot.

"If you let me shag you senseless, the memory is all yours."

She stalked forward until the tip of her wand dug under his throat. "What you're proposing isn't a bet or a deal; it's extortion." She breathed hard through her nose, like a bull ready to charge. "You're asking me to be a whore."

"Not extortion, just an exchange. Everything has a price, correct? You made the mistake of bringing the memory to Hogwarts and using shitty wards." He brushed a stand of hair out of his face. "Besides, I don't know what you're whining about. You'll win regardless. Either we shag, you have a nice time, and get the memory, or we don't, and I owe you one hundred galleons. It sounds fair to me. If anything, it's me who loses. Either I give you the memory or I lose one hundred galleons. I have a price to pay either way." He trailed a finger down the wood, just brushing her knuckles before dropping his hand to his side. In response, her wand poked harder into his skin.

"If you lose something regardless, then why propose the deal in the first place?"

"Because I always get what I want. And right now, I want to you naked and panting my name. I'm willing to pay the hefty sum required."

"I'm not something you can buy. I'm not a toy."

He tired not to laugh in her face. Everyone can be bought. Everyone has a weak spot to twist and exploit. He disdained his father's life lesson, but this one he took to heart.

"Yet you are considering it."

Hermione paused. She bit her bottom lip, in her thinking pose

"If we... engage in intercourse, I'll still owe you one hundred galleons based on the terms of the bet. That's hardly motivation to do the deed." He was impressed she already caught the first loophole. If she hadn't discovered it, he would have held the debt over her as leverage for the future. He didn't think Hermione was poor, but she wasn't his level of wealth. One hundred galleons was a hefty sum to pay off.

"Still being clever, aren't you?" He tilted his head to the side. "if you please me enough, I'll forgive the debt."

Hermione grimaced. He almost saw the fury sparking from her.

"Fine," he conceded, holding up his hands to soothe her. "There would be no debt on your part. Does that satisfy you?"

She snorted in disdain.

"And what happens if I refuse to give into you by the timetable?"

"I get rid of the evidence, and my father stays free. But don't worry, crawling into my bed won't be a chore. I'll make sure to seduce you properly. I'm many terrible things, but a rapist isn't one of them. No, I'll only fuck you if you spread your legs and beg me." He stopped and she gave him a searing look that showed him what he already knew—Granger would be a challenge. She'd need to be convinced, despite the evidence. "In the end it's just one night. One pleasurable night and you can have your precious memory. And who knows?" He gave a wicked smirk. "Maybe you'll come back for seconds."

The statement snapped Hermione's control.

"Stupefy!" A violent burst of colored sparks erupted from the end of her wand. He stood up, showing it was ineffective on him.

"What did you do to it?" She shook it to rid it of the rainbow sparks.

"I blunted it for the time being, anticipating your Gryffindor instinct to fire first."

"But how?" She looked curious, despite her anger.

"Blood magic is predictable. It's my Aunt Bella's correct? It's easy to tweak if it recognizes family. It'll be back to normal use in a few hours. You know," he sounded thoughtful, "I'm surprised it responds to you. I'm even more surprised you kept it."

He glanced down at the word mudblood carved into her arm. The scar she refused to hide.

"I earned it."

"Fair enough," Draco shrugged. "Though I'm certain it only responds because you're on the edge of madness yourself."

She raised her fist as if to strike him in anger, but he was ready and gripped her wrist, twisting her so that she was bent over the dusty desk in front of him.

He leaned across her, allowing himself the pleasure of having her body underneath him, and whispered into her ear.

"See, edge of madness. You struck me once when we were children and once when I deserved it, but I'm no longer a child, and it won't happen again." His lips hovered against the skin under her ear. She smelled like lavender and soap. "Though I consent I might still deserve it."

She screamed in anger into a closed mouth and bucked against him. She wouldn't have done that if she knew how good it felt.

He gripped one of her hands, tangling their fingers together.

"Do you agree to the terms?" He asked. "Yes or no, Granger. There's no time to waste."

She closed her eyes.

"Yes," she said. "Now get off me."

He felt briefly victorious, despite knowing that would be her answer. She was too much of a martyr. The trial depended on her, and she'd sacrifice for it.

"Not yet," he said. He placed his wand to their joined fingers and muttered the spell required for Wizard bets. He watched as the blue light swirled into a pattern and embedded into their skin, disappearing.

"What did you do?"

"Made it official. Now there can be consequences if the terms are not fulfilled."

Hermione bucked against him again to push him off. It felt as good as the first time.

"Careful Granger, we just entered a bet, and there are games afoot."

He let his lips linger until she shivered underneath him, and then he raised himself, let her go, and exited the abandoned classroom.