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The Blood Letter

Chapter V: Little Victories

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Hermione still was at the library, shock still running through her veins. Draco Malfoy, the one who had always insulted her as a filthy little Mudblood, the one who had always shown the hate he felt for her, had suddenly waited for her at her favorite library's spot. He had surprised her by kissing her roughly; by telling her he would be the only one she would be with from then on. His reason? A Blood Letter with her name written on it.

It was unbelievable.

She couldn't help but wonder if he had invented some parts of the tale. Like the part he had been unconscious and still had known what had been up between Harry, Ron, Lavender and her. She sighed in frustration: She didn't believe a word of that; he just had been spying on her. But yet again, why? His tale told about him getting the letter after he had supposedly thrown into the water and been unconscious, so why had he shown this obsession of his before reading the Blood Letter? It didn't make any sense!

When had he become so damn obsessed with her?

Hermione bit her under lip so she could think more properly: It always helped. But as her teeth touched the flesh of her lips, she slightly yelped: Draco had bitten in there hardly; he had left a little scar in there.

The Gryffindor softly touched her lips with her thin fingers, somehow trying to remember the feeling of his lips being on hers. She had to admit, even though it had been rough and punishing, even though it had hurt, Draco's kiss had awoken something deep inside her she didn't even know she had. She didn't know what it was; it was something she couldn't describe at all. Maybe if she bit again, she could at least recall the sensation and tell what it was.

And so, her teeth met her lips' flesh once again.

Her tongue caressed the little mark softly so the weird feeling after having bitten her under lip faded away. She was surprised as she realized she tasted her blood: It had a kind of metallic taste, yet kind of salty mixed up with sweet and bitter at the same time. The surprise was even bigger when she realized she liked the taste of it. No, she didn't like it.

…She loved it.

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And again, he would remind himself he had no choice but to obey Draco's orders.

Severus Snape was right there, standing in front of Slughorn's office door. His wand was tightly held in his hand, ready to curse. And it was held so tightly it trembled. It didn't tremble because he was scared. No, he had already cursed many people in his life: He had injured some people; he had even killed some more. Not out of fun, of course, but to win the Dark Lord's trust.

But this wasn't about winning anyone's trust. This was about him obeying Draco's orders, in order to keep his very own life untouched. This was about surrendering to his very own godson. And the worst part was, there wasn't a single way to get it back on him.

Shit. He had to do it. And his inner voice shouted at him that he really didn't want to.

Snape huffed out in frustration and knocked on the door. He started hearing some steps and some tired panting coming from the insides of the room: Slughorn was indeed at his late ages, and it somehow made him feel a little sorry to have to curse him. But as he had already stated many, many times before: It was either putting the Imperius curse on him or losing his life.

Damn him for being so overly possessive with his life!

Of course, he had a reason: He never believed in hell or heaven, and therefore, dying wouldn't imply getting to see his Lily again. And since living was the only way to remember her, to keep each and every one of his memories, he acted egoistically. And stupidly, too, in a certain way: Why did he want to live? Did it make any kind of sense? After all, if he died, he would lose something he never had. He would lose nothing.

And knowing he would lose nothing when he could've lost something if James Potter hadn't gotten in his way… hurt. And it hurt badly.

He knocked on the door again to push those sad thoughts away from him. He needed a cool mind to curse that old man.

"I'm coming, don't be impatient!" His old, tired, airy voice said in annoyance.

Severus only had to wait two more seconds.

The door opened, and Slughorn's usual bright face dropped at once. Not because he knew about Snape having the mission to curse him, but rather, because he knew from Dumbledore that Snape had taken the news he had to give up on teaching potions quite badly.

"Hello, Severus." He cordially greeted, unable to help the trembling in his voice.

"Hello, Horace." Snape's face darkened at the mention of the name.

He didn't want to do it, he didn't want to do it, he didn't want to do it!

"What brings you here?" He almost stuttered.

"You." He darkly said.

The old potions master gasped at Snape's statement.

Horace Slughorn's emerald eyes opened widely in surprise and somewhat fear; and his jaw dropped open.

"Wh-"

And in a rapid, yet trembling wrist motion…

He didn't want to do it, he didn't want to do it, he just didn't want to do it!

NO! DON'T!

"Imperio!"

…Severus cursed him.

Slughorn's gaze went lost, his eyes lost their shine, and they suddenly just stared through him and at the nothingness.

"You will adhere to Draco Malfoy's orders, Horace Slughorn." Snape stated.

"I will… adhere…" He whispered, his gaze still lost. "…To Draco Malfoy's… orders. Draco… Malfoy…"

Snape sighed in relief.

He did it. At least now, his life wasn't at stake anymore.

Or that was what he thought.

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Draco was flying on his broomstick at its full speed; he was about to catch the Golden Snitch. He was close, he was damn close: His arm was stretched, all his muscles were tensed up, and his forehead was covered in sweat. And still, he looked just as handsome as always.

'Just a few more inches…' He thought, 'Come on, you bloody golden flying ball!'

And then, it happened. Draco had jumped off his broomstick all of a sudden to wrap his hand around the Golden Snitch, and didn't fail at it. He looked at his hands as he fell onto the ground: He had caught it. He had finally caught it. Yes, it was true: He was practicing for the match due to the next day, but still, having the Golden Snitch in his hands felt like a little victory to him.

He wanted to stand up from the ground, but…

The Slytherin suddenly felt a rush of incredible power running through his veins: It was electrifying and also, it was kind of overwhelming. He felt a very pleasant ticklish rush upon his chest, and a sort of nice pressure on his stomach. The rush burnt his skin and cooled it up at the same time; it was a real strange sensation.

Yet it felt so good.

Draco knew that had nothing to do with the Golden Snitch. He somehow suspected it had to do with having control over Slughorn. He could tell by the slight tremble of his hand: Draco Malfoy just wanted to order around, he just felt the need to tell Slughorn to brew that Unforgivable Potion for him.

Yes. The Unforgivable Potion. It was so damn evil he could almost enjoy its sweet taste. He licked his lips: It was the taste of victory.

"We're going to kick Gryffindor's ass tomorrow, people!" Nott yelled from his broomstick, "Malfoy has caught the Snitch in a new record time! Potter's not going to have any chance! I suggest we spare our energy for tomorrow. Hey, Malfoy, what do you say about that? Can we leave?"

He smirked at Theodore Nott. He liked that boy. Maybe he wouldn't kill him when he ruled the world.

"You slimy snakes get out of my sight." He ordered, "And don't you fucking get pissed tonight. You'll need to be sober to kick all those Gryffindorks pathetic asses."

All Slytherins laughed with a mock of arrogance as they started to leave. Yes, they would enjoy the pathetic expression on Potter and Weasley's face. They definitely would, there was no doubt about that.

The blondest snake was about to leave with his team too, as he felt another rush of power running through his veins again, this time, even more powerful than the first wave. Plus, he could've sworn he had heard Slughorn say his name.

'Draco… Malfoy…'

Excellent.

His old voice just sounded so brilliantly hexed… He just knew his masterpiece would work out. He was totally sure of it it.

He heard Horace Slughorn's voice echoing inside his head again.

'I will… adhere… to Draco… Malfoy's rules…'

His greyish eyes shone with danger, arrogance, and big confidence, as his smirk grew even wider. He evilly laughed: Yes, victory definitely would be his.

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AAANNNNND! CHAPTER FIVE! HAHAHAHAH! YAAAY! And it's full of angst :D haha

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