.~.~.~.~.~.

Grimmauld Place – March, 2000 (1)

.~.~.~.~.~.

Draco's wife comes to Grimmauld Place for the first time.

Astoria Malfoy is a beautiful porcelain doll, with her long, blonde hair that is curled into perfect ringlets, her wide, sky-blue eyes with their long, thick lashes, and her perfect heart-shaped mouth and face. She's dressed in a conservative witch's robes of the very highest quality materials, and shiny leather button shoes. Honestly, she looks like she just stepped out of the pages of a Victorian model's catalogue, circa 1890.

It's irrational, but I despise her at first glance. I especially hate the way she clings to Malfoy's arm like she's some weak, little kitten in need of protection, when I know from rumour that she's a vicious viper, capable of killing just as easily as purring. Her dark aura confirms it, too - she's committed intentional murder and more. In fact, I'm quite shocked by how dark her energy is.

Apparently, she's come to the Order in lieu of her Master, Severus Snape, to deliver some vital, game-changing information for Lupin's ears only, or some such tosh.

Ginny recently told me that she'd heard from Parvati, who'd heard from Seamus, who gotten an owl from Neville, who'd overheard McGonagall talking that the youngest Greengrass daughter is the perfect spy for one reason alone: she's completely, sickeningly devoted to Draco, willing to do anything he asks once he flashes her his patented Malfoy smile. I see them talking together in low voices, sharing a secret glance, and I find myself believing the gossip tree this one time. She looks at her husband as if the world revolves around him, and in her gaze there is a ravenous hunger for his touch.

I have to wonder if I look at him the same way.

They pass me on the stairs, ignoring me completely, as they head up to Draco's bedroom. I hear the door shut and lock behind them, and then no more. Astoria's cast a Silencing Charm for a reason that's obvious.

I feel the need to shatter something. My back teeth ache with the desire. I head down into the kitchen, and unwisely use some of the magic I've stored up from my time with Draco to release my own wandless Silencing Charm around the area. Then, I proceed to destroy the contents of the plate cabinet.

Ral finds me crying, surrounded by broken ceramic, twenty minutes later. He uses his wand to make everything right, and then hugs me close to his chest, trying in vain to fix my broken heart, as well. There's only so much I'll allow him to do in the name of friendship, however, and when he attempts to cross that line by kissing me, I push back.

"I can't," I whisper, staring up at him with tears in my eyes.

He is wounded by the rejection, but he gives me a reassuring smile. "I know."

It's such a sad admission, reminiscent of the one I gave Ginny not a week and a half ago, that it tears into me, revealing the truth: Ral's love for me is as hopeless as mine is for Draco.

.~.~.~.~.~.

Grimmauld Place – April, 1999

.~.~.~.~.~.

Malfoy's setting up the chess board in the Living Room as I sit at the recently re-tuned piano (thanks to Rabastan, who enjoys playing as well) and call-up my childhood lessons once more to perform a passable rendition of 'Fur Elise'.

"Want to play with me?"

His seemingly innocent question carries the weight of double entendre.

"I don't know how," I lie, not sure I want to be sucked into any further amusement Draco Malfoy has to offer.

"I'll teach you," he proposes, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I'd rather not."

The truth is I'm terrible at chess. Ron was always better at it than me – which irks me to no end. I'd like to be a better player, of course, but for all my analytical abilities, I have trouble making spontaneous decisions based on visual cues, especially when there's an audience of any kind. I'm the type to reason things out in my head, step-by-step, taking my time to puzzle through the problem. Chess doesn't give you that opportunity; you have to make decisions relatively quickly, or the game drags on for hours.

Like poker, it also requires you to size-up your opponent on the fly, not just pay attention to their moves on the board. Anticipating what a challenger might do next is part of what makes chess so difficult for me. I'm Gryffindor, not Slytherin. I'm used to bold, up-front declarations of intent, not propaganda and psychological warfare (which is why I despised Umbridge so much, with her fake smiles and her neon pink lies).

I'd rather Malfoy not know this particular weakness of mine though, because I fear he'd exploit it to taunt me. Not that he's given any indication of wanting to resume his life's goal of being an utter prat since he's come here (in fact, he's shown remarkable respect for me, but I think that's because I took care of his mother while she was unconscious), but still, I'm understandably weary of him.

"Never pegged a Gryffindor for cowardice," he teases me. "But then, lions are known for retreating in the face of something as small and harmless as a snake."

Another gauntlet is thrown at me. Of course, I can't help but pick it up.

"No snake is ever harmless," I remind us both, and with a weary sigh, I get up from my seat before the piano, and take a seat across from Draco at the small table he's set-up with a wizard's chess set. "This game is barbaric, you know," I inform him.

He grins, and I'll admit, 'snarky' is a good look for him. "That's because it reflects real life."

"Cynic."

"Cherry."

"Not anymore. You made sure of that," I say with heat – the angry kind.

Malfoy's silvery gaze glances up at me in surprise, but his features quickly transform, filled with arrogance and heat – the sexy kind. "Look, we both know we're on edge because it's just about that time of the month again – and I don't mean your flow. I'm talking about our curses. What do you say we make this time more interesting with a wager? Loser gives the winner any one thing they want," he bargains.

I consider it. "Within reason," I state, liking the idea of requiring him to do the dishes à la Muggle.

"State your terms."

We negotiate. He wants sexual favours, of course. I want house chores.

We start, and I give it a fierce fight, but in the end, the git Checkmates me.

I switch tactics the moment he gets up from the table and pulls me into his arms, going on the offensive out of pure, unadulterated fear. "I retract my offer. You can't make me do this," I state, emphatic. I even stomp my foot to punctuate my resolve. "If it's to settle your curse, we'll sit on the sofa and you can stretch your hand across from your side, but I refuse to do more than that with you anymore."

Draco's lids lower in sultry insistence. "Granger, are you going back on your word?"

"Unrepentantly, yes."

He laughs, and it's a sinful sound. "No, you're not. You're just scared."

"I am not!"

"Are, too," he debates. "You know that what I want to do to you is only partially to do with my curse. I liked fucking you – and I know you liked it, too. Besides, you know that what you're proposing won't work, even if this was just about getting rid of some excess energy. This... whatever it is, it makes us horny as bunnies for each other the second we touch. No way are you resisting that."

"We're not animals, Malfoy. We're thinking human beings." I run my gloved hand through my hair, and get snagged on a small knot. I finger through it, clearing it, even as I continue my assertion. "We can figure out a way to transfer your energy to me without us ending up in bed again."

"Think so?" he asks with a darkly, amused smirk. "When you're the only outlet in the world that seems to work to keep me from exploding?"

I growl. "I will not be compared to a Muggle electrical socket, thank you very much! And I've given us a viable plan. You stay on your side of the couch, I on mine. We stretch our hands across. They meet in the middle. You transfer your magic. When it's done, we go back to our separate lives for three or four more weeks. End of story."

He shakes his head, but plants his bum on the right side of the sofa and reaches for me. "Your reputation for being honest and keeping your word is being shredded, but alright, we'll try it your way."

As I settle into the left side of the sofa and remove my glove, I steady my nerves and repeat over and over in my head that I must maintain absolute control this time.

Our fingertips brush and it tingles. He entwines our fingers with a groan.

It's nearly impossible not to feel the desire sweep me away, no matter my mental fortitude. The exchange is so powerful, so overwhelming. Leaning back into the cushions and rubbing the front of my jeans with my free hand, I try to stave off the arousal, but instead end up quickly bring myself to orgasm.

Nearly salivating in lust, Malfoy crawls towards me, closing the distance between us. His mouth is at my throat again, his big body blanketing mine as he sits across my lap. "Told you," he pants.

"Heavy," is all I can manage to get out before his teeth clamp down on my pulse and I'm devastated once more.

We wrestle for dominance, and somehow I end up on top. We tear our clothing off – just the bits that count, and then he's sliding into me again and I feel such fulfilment that I nearly faint. He teaches me how to ride him, and I come again in this position, my clit and g-spot stimulated perfectly.

As I orgasm for a third and final time, he slams up into me and releases with a shout of incoherent words. The rush of his magic leaving him and entering me in a giant wave crashes over me a moment later. I cry out, and his arms come around me, pulling me to his chest, holding me safe. I'm sobbing as the pain and pleasure converge.

In the aftermath, I'm drained... and filled up. It's so much sensation, I'm drunk on it.

I'm so fuzzy that I don't notice when he pulls me off of him, or as he adjusts a blanket over my half-naked form for cover, or even as he redresses. I do hear, 'Thanks, Granger,' though, as he leaves and those two words cut through the haze of bliss to leave me cold once more.

I'm nothing but an outlet for him, and he's married, and we both know this is wrong... but it seems we'll never be able to stop until our curses are cancelled.

I feel so helpless... so used.


Author's Note:

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