Disclaimer: Ninjas own everything, because they are awesome. This ninja doesn't own Harry Potter though, JK Rowling does, because she is a ninja too. You heard it here first!

The Ninja, The Samurai and The Geisha

by Firebreathing Ninja From Space!

Chapter 4: The Ninja and the Geisha

Draco drained the last bottle of spirits and tossed it against a wall as he stumbled drunkenly towards the Geisha house. He had been hiding in cellars and abandoned buildings all day, venturing out only to secure alcohol to drown his misery in. How could Harry Potter have beaten him so convincingly? That self-righteous idiot, with no subtlety or cleverness to his magic or his swordplay?

"Draco-sama!" Molly exclaimed as he lurched in through the front door. "We had heard that-"

"I'd crawled off to die, yes, yes..." Draco slurred. "Where's Hermione?"

"I'm afraid she is with another client just now, but-"

"I'll pay extra." Draco tossed the pouch containing his remaining money at her feet, giving her a steely glare. "As for the client...he won't be a problem."

"Draco-sama, please..."

Ignoring Molly, Draco strode towards Hermione's room, pushing past several of the girls who had turned out to stare. He slid open the door with a bang, and saw Hermione serving tea to some chinless merchant's son.

"Change of plans, boy," Draco snarled perfunctorily, violently grabbing the youth by the collar.

"Draco-sama?" Hermione gasped breathlessly.

"What is the meaning of this?" the other client squawked indignantly, as Draco hauled him roughly out of the door, tossed him halfway down the corridor and slammed the door behind him. He turned to regard Hermione, who shrank away from him nervously, causing the grey-eyed ninja a pang of shame even as his heart lifted at the sight of her. She was so pure and lovely and kind – how could a woman who sold herself remain so unspoiled? And how could a miserable, treacherous wretch like him have been so fortunate as to find her?

"Draco...you should not be here. It's not safe," Hermione whispered urgently.

"I know. I don't care," he growled crossly, making to approach her. He stumbled drunkenly, however, and sat down heavily on the floor.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Hermione rushed anxiously to his side, touching his shoulder with her cool, gentle hand. He melted beneath her touch, his self-loathing fury ebbing somewhat. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he furiously blinked them away.

"No. Jus' drunk. Been drinking all day," he confessed guiltily, gazing into her warm brown eyes with his cold orbs.

"You should rest," she said decisively. "Come and lie down."

"Don' need rest. Jus' need you," Draco slurred, putting his arms around her.

"Draco..." Hermione blushed, and Draco realized he had given away his hidden feelings to a greater extent than ever before. Once again, though, he didn't care. Their golden and russet hair mingled as he kissed her hard and fiercely, her sweet surrender infusing him with warmth and making his head spin more than the spirits he had drunk had. More than anything, he wanted to lose himself in her purity, to wash away the shameful memory of defeat.

Dizziness forced him to break off the kiss, and he hung his head in muddled exhaustion. Hermione held him tenderly, stroking his platinum hair in a way that no-one ever had. "Let me help you, Draco," she whispered. "What can I do? Tell me, and I'll do it."

Draco knew what he wanted – to make love to her till she screamed, to infuse her with raw sensation to strip away her demure doll-like demeanour and leave a warm and passionate human being. At least when he brought her pleasure he could feel as if he had done one good thing in his life. He would never be the kind of man who could articulate such feelings, though, and the thought filled him with anger at those who had made him that way. His anger infused his passion as he crushed her to him once again, claiming her lips with his like a hawk swooping on a mouse. She squeaked in surprise, but responded immediately, sliding her hands under his tunic to run them over his slender, sculpted torso. The feel of her soft fingertips on his scarred alabaster skin inflamed him further, and he clutched at her like a drowning man clutching driftwood, pressing her to the floor as he kissed her with every ounce of ferocity in his warrior soul.

"Draco...you're...you're hurting me..." Hermione breathed urgently between kisses. Irritated, as much at himself as at her, he silenced her protest with his lips, but shifted his grip on her arms and moved his weight where he lay atop her. His burning desire was the only thing keeping his misery and shame at bay, and he could barely stop devouring her long enough to lift her up and carry her to the bed. He laid her down with no great gentleness, and he could see both fear and passion in her eyes, but she made no protest as he efficiently stripped away her elegant clothing, little caring if he tore anything in the process. There would be no cool and measured seduction tonight. He rained down kisses like hailstones, and pressed his hard, lean body against her soft and slender perfection, making her moan with uncontrollable desire.

Much later, when his passion had finally abated, Draco sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Hermione lay sleeping or merely exhausted behind him, but he could not bear to look at her, to see the bruises on her slender arms and the angry red marks of his lips and teeth on her ivory shoulders and neck. She had borne his animal desire without a word of complaint, and that only made him feel even more like the evil monster people said he was. How could he be so cruel and ungentle to such a delicate and beautiful woman? He felt as if he had taken a perfect, fragile blossom in his brutish hands and crushed it. He was as bad as...as bad as...he could not complete the thought, and instead burst into uncontrollable, sobbing tears. The salty crystal droplets trickled sparklingly down his face and splashed wetly onto the bed.

More sobs wracked Draco, the warrior undefeated by any except one totally unmanned by his own shame and self-disgust. He howled quietly like a wounded animal, his nails raking at his face as if he sought to tear himself to pieces.

Suddenly he felt gentle hands on his bare shoulders, a musical voice whispering anxiously in his ear. "Draco...Draco? What's wrong?"

He let out a bitter laugh. "What's wrong? You ask me that! You should hate me, spit at me, turn away from me. I'm no good. I'm a monster."

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you think I'm talking about?! I mauled and ravaged you like a beast, I'm disgusting. How can you bear to look at me?"

Hermione's arms slid loosely around him. The feel of her skin against his was so good, but the desire it inspired only shamed him further. "Draco. It's all right. Do you know what some of the men who come here are like? I know you only did it because you were unhappy, and I can see you're sorry. If I can help you feel even a little better after a battle, I don't care about a few bruises."

Draco could barely believe what he was hearing, and he sobbed again. How could she be so kind and understanding? "I am sorry. I'm so sorry...so sorry." He clutched her hand with his, tentatively looking round at her.

"I told you, it's all right. Actually..." She paused in embarrassment, biting her lip. "I never saw you so...passionate before. You are normally so controlled."

"I have to be that way," Draco said hollowly. "Otherwise I might end up like...like..."

"Like who?" Draco tried to look away, but Hermione touched his cheek to stop him. "Draco, like who?"

"Did I ever tell you why I became a ninja?" Hermione shook her head. "No, of course not. Well, my father was a great lord. Very wealthy, friends in high places. He supported Voldemort, but no-one dared speak out against him in case he used horrible magic on their families. He did that sort of thing for fun, even...even to my mother."

"Kami-sama! That's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed sympathetically, holding him tighter.

"He used to beat her whenever she displeased him in the slightest," the ninja continued, his voice tightly controlled. "Me as well. And he did worse things to her where I couldn't see. Once I went into their room and...no...I can't talk about it." He shuddered, and Hermione squeezed him reassuringly. He could see tears glinting in her warm chocolate eyes. "When I was old enough, I ran away from home and trained as a ninja. Eventually, I took a job for Voldemort when he ordered my father's assassination – I can't even remember why now. In any case, it was easy for me to sneak into his castle and kill him."

Hermione's eyes were big and luminous, but she said nothing. Draco went on: "I hoped I could rescue my mother, but...it was too late. She had gone mad and killed herself. She...she only had half her fingers and toes left after my father was finished with her. You can't imagine how satisfying it was to put my sword through his heart."

"I'm so sorry..." Hermione's tears flowed freely as she hugged Draco comfortingly. He gratefully buried his face in her soft, fragrant hair.

"That's why I keep such a tight rein on my emotions," he explained. "I'm terrified I'll turn into my father, lashing out cruelly at anyone weaker than myself."

"You could never be like him," Hermione murmured fervently through her tears.

"Thank you." Draco kissed her, thankful beyond words for her gentle presence. He had never told this story to anyone before. Some god must surely be smiling on him, to have sent such an angel to him. They made love again, slowly and tenderly this time, Draco treating his dear geisha like priceless porcelain. When it was over, he realized he had better leave in case someone had altered Dumbledore's samurai to his presence.

"What will you do now?" Hermione asked as she watched Draco dress, the blankets drawn up around her.

"Go far away," Draco replied decisively as he tied his sword-belt. "I'm done with this war, with Voldemort and his stupid schemes. Would you...would you come with me?"

Hermione's eyes went wide with shock. "Come with you?"

"I know I've no right to ask. I've nothing to offer you except a life on the road, even if I can get my hands on some of my father's hoarded money. It's just...if you're with me, I think I can truly leave the fighting and killing behind me. And I can't bear the thought of leaving you to be slobbered over by rich idiots."

"Draco, I...I don't know what to say."

"It's all right," Draco replied understandingly. "You don't have to decide right away. I'll be hiding out at the old temple down by the river, near South Gate, for the next few days, until things quieten down." Inwardly he barely dared to hope that she would come with him, but he promised himself that he would return one day if she could not come now.

Before leaving, he crouched silhouetted in the window against the driving rain that blew in and plastered his platinum hair against his head. "I love you, Hermione," he declared, heart pounding with unaccustomed emotion. He tried to fix in his mind the rich brown of her wide eyes, the blossom-like pink of her blushing cheeks, the smooth and perfect curve of her bare ivory shoulders, and the delightfully chaotic fall of her chestnut hair around her. Then he dropped from the windowsill and vanished into the night.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N: What now? How will Hermione deal with Draco's declaration of love? And will Cho and Ginny give up Harry without a fight? Find out in the next chapter, and don't forget to review! Thanks for reading!