Entice, v., [en-tahys]

to lead on by exciting hope or desire; allure

The beginning of this chapter takes place in a large room. The floor is made of pristine white tile flecked with green, and the brick walls are painted a rich pine colour. There are no windows- all the light comes from magically charmed torches lining the walls. Three dark wooden beds are set in a row against a wall. Each bed has four posters hung with translucent lime curtains. Engraved into the posters are pictures that tell a story, which begins with a bearded man and ends with a thousand twisting snakes. The beds are laid with thick green quilts.

Across from the beds are three identical oak dressers, though one has been magically and undetectably enlarged. Two dressers hold extra-large black robes and untouched copies of Hogwarts: A History. One holds medium black robes with an embroidered D on the breast pocket, a beaten copy of Hogwarts: A History and a blue notebook. Hidden beneath one of the beds is a picture of a woman who is now dead, and under another is a pile of letters written in slanted writing. On this bed lies a tall, lean boy with a fringe of glossy blonde hair and lips pulled back into a sneer. Between his fingers he holds an apple gingerly, and he whispers a string of words that cause it to turn black and promptly disintegrate. He does this subconsciously, for his mind is filled with other thoughts.

The other beds are glaringly empty, and I can disclose to you that the occupants are three floors above in a Common Room decorated similarly in green.

With a wave of his wand the boy cleans the apple ashes from his bed and begins picking at a hole in bedspread. He thinks that he should ask his mother to send him a new blanket but he knows he won't, because it isn't important at all in the grand scheme of things.

How annoying that thought is- the grand scheme of things. In the grand scheme of things, books are just different combinations of the same 26 letters, and magic was just words, and there are thousands of people you'll never meet and thousands of places you'll never see. Nothing was important in the grande scheme of things, was it? We are just a few people on a small planet with a lot of problems amongst other planets with a lot of other problems. The thought is enough to drive someone mad. In the grand scheme of things, this... game with Granger doesn't matter at all. However, down on Earth in this dormitory deep in the dungeons, it seems like a mighty big deal.

Draco was reminded of another muggle quote- two can play at that game. It was a nonsense quote, of course, because two people have to be playing a game or else it is not a game. What is it called, if it is a game for only one? Perhaps a hobby, or a pastime. Draco had no time for these.

So yes, two were playing this game. Hermione was fighting back, and he was not surprised. In fact, it satisfied him and made the letter in his pocket one stone lighter. Though did she even know the game she was playing? It was no fun if she didn't know the rules, winning wouldn't hold the same triumph if she wasn't given a fair chance to fight back. He would definitely have to change that.

It had taken Draco all of three minutes to decide what his next move would be.

He needed to do something that would stay in her head. As well, he figured he might as well use what she already possessed to ease the job. Bloody compassion.

The door to the room opened and his train of thought broke off as two corpulent figures ambled through, stumbling over their feet and cursing under their breath. He sighed loudly and propped his head up on his elbow to better smirk at them.

...

Hermione had a headache.

The blended murmuring of voices and clanging of cutlery in the great hall grated against her skull, and she gritted her teeth against the pressure behind her eyes. Harry looked over at her and touched her arm lightly.

"Mione? You okay?" he asked. She cracked open an eye and peered out at him.

"Yeah, everything is fine and dandy," she said, but the sarcasm was weak. Harry let out a short laugh and looked away quickly. Headaches were common for her, and she had a reputation amongst her friends for being extra irritable and snappy in such state.

The eggs on her plate looked as unappetizing as if they were slugs, and bile scratched her throat at the thought of chocking them down. It didn't help that a certain Draco Malfoy was staring her down from across the room, his eyes burning holes in the back of her head. When she peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw not admiration, nor contentment, but burning resentment etched into every crease of his flawless face.

Flawless? Did she just use that word to describe him? If she was perfectly honest with herself, he was a good looking man. His skin was pristine and smooth, jaw square and blunt. His hair was shiny and messy and hung in platinum blonde strands around his face. His mouth was pulled tight into a permanent smirk. And though she couldn't see them from this distance, she knew that under the blonde dusted eyebrows were his eyes.

As an unlucky owner of brown eyes, Hermione had always admired colourful eyes. Draco's were something different all together. They were a blue that was so light it faded to gray, though in certain light they were an azure as bright as Dumbledore's. They were smooth and untouched, a steel cage barring his mind from the outside world. Nevertheless, they looked as deep as the ocean, and if you weren't careful you could drown in them. Hermione had to be very, very careful.

Once, in fourth year, Hermione had accidently stumbled upon Draco in the library. She had never been to that section before, as it was hidden behind a shelf of Transfiguration textbooks, and she always got distracted before she could venture further. However, that day she had been on a quest for a certain book on Charms, and had found herself in a room she had never seen before. It was small and worn with time, with peeling and faded floral wallpaper and a painting of Earl the Enthusiast hung crookedly on the wall. There was one piece of furniture, an armchair that sagged so that its belly touched the ground. Crammed into the room were hundreds of books- stacked from floor to ceiling, used as tables for other books, stuffed into textbooks as bookmarks, overflowing from a small bookcase.

Seated in the armchair was none other than Draco Malfoy himself, nose stuck in a book. His legs were tucked under him and he was leaning leisurely against the armrest. One arm was splayed out to the side while the other kept a thick leather bound volume tucked firmly into his lap. Hermione noticed this vaguely, but what she saw most was his eyes.

They were not gray, nor blue, but a mixture of both to create navy. They were bright and unguarded, wide with fascination that matched the easy smile on his lips. As he read, every emotion was clear in his eyes and face. It was fascinating and amazing and exhilarating to watch and Hermione ran out of there as fast as she could. She never came back and he never knew she had seen him.

She was sure if she could make out his eyes now they would be the familiar calculating gray. She was hit with a sudden urge to see them, to walk over to the Slytherin table and peer into them. She bit her lip and forced herself to turn back to her plate and shove a piece of drippy egg into her mouth. Harry watched her curiously out of the corner of his eye.

...

Hermione loved every school subject, she really did. Every single one was a present and a gift and an adventure. However, that didn't mean she liked every teacher.

She found it hard to believe that anyone could be fond of Severus Snape. She knew Harry and Ronald despised him as much as she did, for different reasons. Their dislike stemmed from the sheer number of detentions they had been given and points taken away by his mouth. Hermione's dislike came from the fact that he made one of the most challenging and therefore greatest school subjects a punishment, and the way he stuck his nose in the air at students because they were amateurs infuriated her to no end. There was a rumour that he gave private lessons to the students he favoured most, and though Hermione couldn't think of anything she would rather do than learn advanced Potions, she'd jump off the Astronomy Tower before she was left alone in a room with Snape.

This particular Potions class was going as usual. She was seated in the front row flanked by Ron and Harry, with her essay on Moonstone perched on the desk in front of her. Her hands were clasped in front of her while she tried very hard to ignore the taunting Slytherin snickers behind her, Harry and Ron's conversation on Quidditch, and Draco Malfoy seated directly behind her, in order to listen to the lesson Snape was conducting on why Transfiguration was not real magic.

There was a lull in the noise and Hermione looked around. A glance at her watch told her class was over, and she hurried to begin packing her bag like everybody else.

"Hey Hermione, you coming back to the common room?" Ron asked and gave her a lopsided smile. Her heart skipped a beat and she beamed back.

"Of course, I'm just going to hand my essay in and then I'll be there."

"Do you think you could... mention to Snape that mine isn't completed yet? Say it's a work in progress."

"Ronald, it was due today! Ron!" But Ron was already scurrying out the door. Hermione made a face at his back- how considerate of him to leave her to face Snape's wrath. She walked up to Snape's desk and set the piece of parchment covered in her neat script down gently on the pile of other essays.

"Ms. Granger, may I ask why yours is 6 inches longer than everybody else's?" It was actually 7 inches longer, but she was thankful for his miscalculation.

"Oh, uh..." she stuttered. "I found the Moonstone very interesting, and I couldn't narrow down my research into just 13 inches..." Snape smiled humourlessly and took out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"That's the sixth time you have done an assignment incorrectly, Ms. Granger. 20 points from Gryffindor. And another 20 points for not making sure Mr. Weasley got his assignment in on time." Hermione gaped at him. 40 points from Gryffindor? She was the one that got the most points for Gryffindor with her correct answers, but she didn't even make that much in a week. She wanted very badly to show the professor just how well she performed the Jelly Legs Jinx, but instead she curled her hand into a fist and thanked Snape for his consideration.

Stinking prat.

The students in line behind her didn't bother to hide their laughter, and Hermione's face burned with shame and anger as she stalked out of the classroom. She heard footsteps behind her and saw Draco and his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson was behind them, craning her neck to see over their heads.

"Granger," Draco said with mock politeness, and Pansy laughed excitedly. The group passed her with their heads held high besides Pansy, who took the opportunity to kick her in leg and whisper "Mudblood."

"Oh, she's a keeper, Malfoy," Hermione said sarcastically, but her words were pointed. It was well known that Pansy and Draco were an item, and she was sure the Slytherin wouldn't take it too well if she knew her hubby was snogging mudblood Gryffindors. Draco looked over his shoulder to give her an annoyed look before him and his gang disappeared around the corner. Hermione rolled her eyes at the space they had been just a second ago and turned to head back to the Gryffindor common room.

A small blue notebook lying on the ground caught her eye. She frowned and knelt to pick it up. How could someone be so careless with their notes when there was a quiz next week? She cracked it open to see if there was a name, but the pages were empty. She thought for a second about keeping the notebook to use, but it gave her a creepy feeling similar to that of Tom Riddle's diary, so she snapped it shut and knelt down to place it back on the floor for the owner to find.

A small piece of parchment slipped out of the cover, and Hermione hesitated for a split second before pinching it between her fingers and picking it up. The parchment looked old, though it was hard to tell because it was folded into a tiny little square. Carefully, so as not to tear it, she unfolded it. It looked like a letter, the slanted writing scripted in dark green ink. She felt a spark of curiosity, and held it up to the light to read it. It was short.

November 21, 1995

Dearest Draco,

We understand that your schoolwork has become your biggest priority, and that is not acceptable. The Lord wishes for your reports to be more in depth, and he has threatened us with the foreclosure of the Manor and the deaths of a few well chosen people. There are people included that are important to you as well. This is a warning. You know this is important, you must do better or else. Your reluctance will be your death. As well, Aunt Bellatrix wishes to meet you at B&B next Sunday to discuss something important. We think it is another mission. Be flattered, she means well. Behave.

Love,

N and L

So Draco was reluctant, was he?

She closed her eyes to better absorb the information from the letter, and then folded it neatly into her pocket along with the notebook. She walked the route to the common room in a trance, images of Bellatrix and Draco having a tea party in Borgin and Burkes dominating her thoughts. She ignored Harry and Ron sitting in the armchairs by the fire and hurried up to her dormitory. She wanted to put the notebook and letter in a safe place. She stopped short when she saw the small green note taped to her door. It read;

Astronomy Tower, 11.30

D

Astronomy Tower, 11:30

Draco knew she would come. Combine the letter and the note, it was an opportunity too delicious to pass up. Surely she had prepared questions of some sort about the fake letter from his parents- what a perfect opportunity for her to pry into someone else's life, an activity that seemed to have become a pastime of hers. Perhaps he would even let her ask them, if all went as planned.

He knew also that the second part of his plan had succeeded. She had been watching him curiously all day, and had subconsciously followed him halfway to the Slytherin common room before realising what she was doing and turning back. He couldn't wait to hear her admit it- he had been on her mind, all day. He hoped it was driving her crazy. That was the point, after all.

So it came as no surprise when the door to the Tower creaked open behind him. He stayed where he was, gazing at the stars. He half heartedly began finding constellations, all the while listening intently to the light feminine footsteps as she walked towards him. She came to stand beside him and looked out the window as well. They were both acutely aware of the other's presence, and only when the hatred burning in his chest at her untroubled face became painful did he step away from the window. He walked over to the door of the room and clicked the lock, not missing the fearful look that flitted across Hermione's face. She opened her mouth.

"You are wondering why I brought you here, you found a letter and have questions, you wonder what the fuck the kiss meant yesterday." Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded. He smiled grimly at her easy submission- she was weak, so weak. And he was strong.

"The letter was fake, a ploy to get you here. I assure you I have unwavering loyalty to the Dark Lord as far as anyone knows. Don't overanalyse that statement. I brought you here because of the kiss. See, I hate you. Completely, entirely, and I am justified in it. You do not see what you have, and it pains me. You do not deserve it, and for that I will break you. But then again, what good is it if you do not know that it was I that ruined you? That's why I'm telling you. As well, I want to give you a chance. I want to beat you fair and square, knowing that although you used your full powers against me I still won. You will lose. Here is how it goes- you try to break me, I try to break you. You can use any means you wish, though I advise against using the Dark Lord. Then again, you are smart enough to know that." Hermione was listening silently, her face growing darker by the second. She stood up tall and proud, her mouth a thin line.

"You are making a mistake Draco, and a selfish one at that. Nevertheless, I will play your game. What are your rules?"

"I make a move, then you make a move."

"Like chess."

"Yes, exactly like chess. And whoever gets the King first wins."

"Deal."

I hope this chapter was okay and not too boring, please feel free to tell me if it is! I'm trying out a new writing style, as you can see, so I really need constructive criticism! Also, if anyone is free to Beta this that would be great.

As well, sorry to all the people that were upset over my stopping updates on the other story! My heart just wasn't into it, I have to be in the mood. I will finish it eventually, though, so be patient. :)

Read and review!

xxx,

Malfoy-Anonymous