A/N: Woah ho ho! Another update so soon? You're very welcome indeed! Lol, anyway, yeah so Chapter six... let's see what happens now...

Also: I don't own anything written by J.K. Rowling

Chapter Six: Wicked Game

Draco's POV

Draco groaned as he rolled onto his side, cursing under his breath as he hit the floor. Rolling onto his back, he blinked his eyes open to see his ceiling spinning. Big mistake, he thought as he turned to his side and vomited. He frowned as he tried to remember the previous night, shutting his eyes as he determined it impossible. Finally finding the strength to sit up, he slowly opened his eyes and noticed he must have fallen asleep on the sofa when he came in that night. With his wand, he cleaned up his mess, and stumbled back to the sofa, resting his feet on the small table in front of it. When he went to check the time, he cursed under his breath when he saw he had slept past noon. He supposed he would just have to put his job search on hold until next week. Besides, he was pretty sure the family fortune could hold out for the rest of this week.

Briefly he wondered what day it was. He glanced down at the table and noticed a stack of mail, along with several long scratch marks along the table beside it. No doubt an angry owl that had yet to receive a treat. He picked up the pile and casually flipped through each piece. He frowned as he checked the dates. "May eighth?" he wondered, trying to remember his week. The last thing he could recall was going to that dreadful memorial. He smirked at the recollection of his little gift however. He couldn't help but chuckle. He was impressed. What started off as a very dry night, he had managed to surpass all the other years combine. Never before had he been black-out drunk for an entire week; he would have to write a small thank-you note to his old Professor.

Draco frowned at the recollection of Professor McGonagall. He had a feeling in his stomach that told him something happened that night that he would most definitely not like. He ran to the kitchen sink to relieve himself of that feeling. Unfortunately for him, while he no longer felt sick, his stomach still felt as if there were a brick inside it. He briefly remembered speaking with a red headed twat as well. His eyes opened wide then. Quickly scrambling through his mail, he scanned each letter for the names he had hoped would not be there. For if they weren't there, his memories were merely just a drunken dream.

His hollow heart sank as he found two letters addressed to him. One letter was from the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the other from the Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall. He opened both letters, briefly scanning each. He let them fall to the floor and placed his head in his hands. It wasn't so much the thought of his Aunt being alive that bothered him, well yes, it did bother him, but he doubted it would be true, but the thought that he would most likely need to pay a visit to his father dearest. Today. He knew both Kingsley and McGonagall would not stop pestering him until they received some kind of answer.

"Fuck," he swore, picking himself up to his feet. With a quick shower and change, he grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. "Malfoy Manor," he muttered for the first time in months, and was whisked away.

Draco stepped out of the grandiose fireplace he had grown to loathe over the years and brushed the ash from his clothes. "Father?" he called, not wanting to waste any further time than was necessary. He folded his hands behind his back, his hands in fists to help reign in his anger as he heard the familiar click of his father's cane.

"What is it boy?" he heard the familiar drawl first before his father's face appeared out of the corridor.

Draco held out his arms as if to embrace his father, but did not step closer. "What? A son cannot visit his father without reason?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not a Malfoy son," his father drawled, clearly already bored with this conversation.

Draco seethed as he watched his father glide across the room to sit in the chair by the fire.

"Are you going to sit?"

Draco sat, his hands curling to fists once again.

"Now tell me my son, why are you here?" Lucius questioned, folding his hands on his knees.

"I am no son of yours," Draco spat.

Lucius only clicked his teeth in disapproval.

Draco sighed, crossing one leg over the other to mirror the elder Malfoy. He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and watched his father curiously. He stared into his father's eyes for any show of emotion, but they were blank; devoid of any sign of caring for his son before him. "I know you don't care for me, but did you at least care for her?" Draco asked softly, a hint of a snarl in his voice.

Lucius continued to stare blankly at Draco, he even dared to raise an eyebrow in question.

"Don't," Draco warned, "you know perfectly well what I'm speaking about. You sit there, presenting yourself as if you were a king. You act as if you have done no wrong. You act as if you deserve people to praise you. But let me tell you, you should rot in Azkaban. I don't understand why Potter spoke on your behalf, but if I ever find out why, you bet your arse he's going to pay for it. Look at me!" Draco screamed.

Lucius watched his son for a moment before sighing. "Are you done?" was all he was able to say. He was about to stand and leave when he felt something push him back. He looked to his son to see him standing, his wand pointed in his direction.

"No. You do not get to leave," Draco growled. "You're going to sit there and listen to me. I did not come here for this reason, but I think we are long overdue for some father son bonding." Draco flicked his wand, locking the door, and sat down across from the monster.

"Your wordless magic is getting much better," Lucius commended.

"Shut up! You're going to shut up and sit there and listen. When I ask you a question, only then you can speak! First question, did you care for her?" Draco yelled.

"Your mother? Of course I did."

"Cared for her so much that you couldn't bear to let her live?"

"Is that what you think?" Lucius laughed.

"Answer the question."

"Look, I said I did care for her. But that changed when, well, when such a disappointment was born," his father calmly said.

Draco fumed, raising his wand again at his father.

"Do not raise your wand at me, boy," he spat, rising to his feet.

Draco smirked, keeping his wand firmly pointed at his father's chest. "Or what? Not so strong without your wand, are you father?"

"You would do well to remember I do not need a wand to show you discipline," Lucius threatened, taking a step closer to Draco.

Draco fired a spell, causing his father to fall back into the chair. He quickly tied him with ropes before sitting down.

"I'm done this little game Draco, why are you here?" Lucius growled.

Draco shook his head and got to his feet. "None of your concern, now if I find what I came here for, then maybe I'll release you before I go; if not, then well, good luck to you," Draco nodded to his father as he left the large room.

Draco made his way up two flights of stairs, and turned two corners before he stopped at the room he was looking for. During the times his Aunt was staying at the Manor, she had left behind a few possessions. Many were no doubt dark objects, which almost all were taken away by the ministry, but he was sure whatever he was looking for would be among what remained.

He opened the door and groaned at the boxes, crates, and piles of a wide range of objects. It was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. With the memory of that room, a brief image of his friend falling to his death flashed across his eyes. He sat in a chair that he knew had belonged to his mother and closed his eyes, letting his mind gather his thoughts before he began his hopeless search. He could remember her rocking back and forth in this chair, his younger self bouncing on her lap. He remembered her sitting in this chair when he received his Hogwarts letter, bright smile lighting up her face as she watched her only son dance with glee. He also remembered the scolding his father had given him. "Malfoy's don't dance," he growled at his son. He remembered the tears that fell down his mother's face as she watched her eleven year old boy get dragged to his father's study for his daily 'discipline'. He remembered his mother cry in this chair as she held her newborn child. Dead only a day old. She had killed her own child, not wanting her daughter to live in a household of hate. He remembered her face of stone from that day on.

A small tear rolled down his cheek as he pushed himself away from the rocking chair and took a seat next to a small stack of books. His mother's books. He traced his hand along the cover of the top book. He shut his eyes and recalled his mother's voice, reading him to at night when he was a child. He also remembered his father telling him when he was eight years old he was too old for stories. That night, the stories stopped, and his training began. He remembered her voice as she told him to run; she told him he did not need to take the mark, he could run. As long as he was safe, she said, she would be fine. He remembered the tears in her eyes as he told her not to be weak. A Malfoy is never weak. He remembered her voice call him back to her during the battle. The love and worry stained her voice as he made the walk across the courtyard. Draco trembled as he remembered her last words to him three years ago. "Find happiness, my Draco, find peace," she whispered as she took her last breath. He remembered crying for three days. He remembered his father's cane strike across his back every time he cried. When he was four and accidentally dropped his favourite dragon toy in the fire was the first time he saw what the use of the cane was truly for. But the day that man had killed his mother, that was the last time Draco let the man he once called father to ever lay a hand on him again.

In a fit of rage, Draco picked up the book and threw it across the room. He almost threw another when he watched the first book seem to disappear into thin air. Curious, Draco walked over to where he thought the novel had disappeared. He waved his wand for any dangerous magic. When he found none, he stuck out his hand, only to pull it straight back when he watched it disappear, almost behind a barrier. He stuck his arm through again, slowly reaching in further and further until he stepped through to the other side. What he saw made him gasp, and Malfoy's never gasped.

There were piles and piles of various treasures and objects he was sure had a few curses upon them. He doubted the Aurors had found this secret section of the room. As he walked around the room, careful to touch anything until he tested it for dark magic, he came across an old black, leather bound, book. He picked it up and dusted it off. Opening the first page, he grimaced as he realised what he had discovered. He walked back to the other side of the room to his mother's chair, sat down and read his Aunt's Diary.

Hermione's POV

Hermione let out a disgruntled sigh as she stared at the papers on her desk. She still had a week to finish her proposal for a fair and ethical union for House Elves, but in typical Hermione fashion, her work wasn't good enough until she'd worked herself to the bone. She sighed as she placed her head on her desk, trying to think of a way rephrase her conclusion. She needed to find the right words to say to truly drive her point home to the potential sponsors. She was grateful enough to Kingsley for granting her permission to continue her work for S.P.E.W, but unless she could get the support from the community, her project was pointless.

On top of all that, she had her other duties as well. Earlier in the week she had received a notice from the Centaur Liaison Office that a centaur, for the first time ever, had come into the office, but had requested Hermione by name. She soon recognized the centaur as Firenze. She warmly greeted him, agreeing to meet with him. He merely came to say that there has been some unrest among the centaur community. While the human-centaur relationship greatly improved after the war, as of late, there has been cause for the centaurs to believe that the seasons would soon change. He could sense it himself in the stars. She kindly told him that she would have someone come by and search the Forbidden Forest. So far, they hadn't found anything, but the centaurs grew more anxious as the days went by. This only further added to her already large headache.

She leaned back in her chair and read through her proposal and speech one more time as her stomach growled. She knew she should take time to get some lunch, but she had so much work to get done. She was in the middle of correcting a sentence when there was a knock at the door. "Come in," she called. She didn't have to look up to know it was Harry and Ron standing in front of her. "Close the door please," she sighed as she furiously finished her corrections. Chewing on the end of her quill she read through her correction and gave a satisfied nod before placing it on her desk.

"Gee 'Mione, you really need to take a rest," Ron laughed, tugging on a fly-away hair from her head.

Hermione swatted Ron's hand away and glared at her friend. "What I need is to get this finished," she growled.

"She needs to eat. She's always angry when she hasn't eaten," Harry said to Ron.

"She's always angry," Ron replied with a smirk.

"Well then maybe we should keep her eating. At least then her mouth will be too full to snap at us," Harry said with a grin.

"Will you two imbeciles shut up?" Hermione yelled, but her growing smile gave her away.

"Aw come on Hermi-own-ninny," Ron laughed as she cringed at her former nickname.

Harry laughed as he sat on the edge of his friend's desk. He picked up one of her parchments, looked it over and put it back down. "Nice work Hermione, you'll knock 'em dead I'm sure!"

Hermione gave a doubtful sigh, but was grateful for the support regardless. "You two are both coming, correct?"

"To the meeting or the fundraiser?" Ron asked nervously.

"Both," Hermione said, shocked there would be any other option.

Harry looked at Hermione and smiled. "Well, I'm sorry Hermione, but next week Ron and I are being sent away for a week long training session. I don't think we'll be allowed to come back in time for the meeting. But we'll definitely be there for the fundraiser, we promise," he said as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Ron grinned. "Er—when is it again?"

Hermione punched Ron's shoulder and laughed. "It's not for three months. You've got time," she sighed. She was disappointed, but she knew at least they'd be there for important part. After all, it wasn't exactly formal to have guests attend the meeting. She just wanted them there for moral support. "And that's okay, as long as you help me set up for the fundraiser," she frowned, knowing how to pull on her friend's guilty conscious'.

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged dejectedly. "Whatever you say 'Mione."

"Great," she said with a cat-like grin. "Now why was it you interrupted my busy schedule for? Was it just for lunch, or was there another reason?"

Harry was the first to speak, "well, a bit of both actually, but first lunch?"

"Well I brought a lunch," Hermione said as she pulled a sandwich from her beaded bag. Harry and Ron laughed, pulling out sandwiches of their own from their bags. "Very well then, what's second on our lunch agenda?" she asked, taking a rather large bite out of her sandwich.

The boys conjured two chairs and sat down across from their friend. "Well," Ron spoke, his mouth full of bread, "we wa wurin 'f ye go-"

"Swallow first Ronald," Hermione scolded.

With a gulp Ron blushed. "Sorry. As I was saying, we were wondering if you got anywhere regarding the prophecy."

"What pro- oh right, wow. I completely forgot. I thought about it the first night, but I've been so busy with work lately that I just-" Hermione started to rationalize.

"It's okay," Harry laughed. "How far did you get the other night then?"

Hermione groaned, "Well, I figured out almost everything except the last two lines really. I have no idea what frozen stars are, and what it has to do with my heart. I had planned on doing some research, but as you can see," she gestured to her desk, "I've had my hands a little full. Have you found anything on Bellatrix?"

Ron shook his head as Harry answered, "not yet, but we haven't had much time either. I mean, it's only been a week. Plus, there's a good chance we'll find nothing, because she's, well, dead."

"But don't worry, we'll figure it out Hermione," Ron added, attempting to console his friend.

Hermione only shrugged it off. "It's no matter anyway, I'm sure it's nothing. I just don't like having a puzzle I can't solve," she mumbled, suddenly notice something interesting under her fingernails.

Ron and Harry both laughed in agreement.

The three friends continued to enjoy their sandwiches, catching up on their weeks. Hermione laughed and gasped at all the right places as the two recalled their Auror adventures of the week. Her heart started to ache as Ron spoke about helping George around the shop on the weekend. It had been a rough weekend for his brother, so Ron essentially ran the shop the entire weekend. He spoke about how he's thinking once things start to die down as an Auror; he might help George out full time. Hermione and Harry both thought it was a great idea, and very mature of Ron to offer his support to his brother. She couldn't imagine losing a sibling, let alone a twin.

Harry mentioned quietly that he's thinking of writing a story for Teddy to read all about his brave parents. He even said he would throw in the parts about Andromeda's family, and Lupin's role as a Marauder. Hermione smiled at both of her friends, proud they were both trying their best to mend their families. She couldn't help the pang of jealousy, but knew she shouldn't feel jealous. As she looked at her two friends she reminded herself that they were just as much her family as her own flesh and blood, if not more so. Hermione was about to tell them so when there was a sudden burst through the door.

The three friends all stood and pointed their wands, shocked to see Malfoy standing in front of them swaying, a small black book in his hands. He looked between the three of him, his eyes landing on Hermione's last as he sputtered one word before collapsing to the ground.

"Animagus"

Did anyone see that coming? Be honest? I thought some might. Anyway, you won't know exactly how she did it, but for now, you'll just have to enjoy some drunk Draco and friends! lol Next chapter might be up later. I need to go to sleep. Goodnight xx