***This is not fair. Seriously. I wanted to do a short chapter to post up on Sunday, about 1500 words long. But my story refused – she just wouldn't let me stop! Oh well, I'm renaming Tuesday, Sunday. It's now over 3k words long, and my free will has been sacrificed to the whims of my muse and characters. I hope you like it! Please fave, follow or review, it's really appreciated. If you have any questions then feel free to ask, these characters do talk a little cryptically at times. Thanks :) ***

The next day was concerned solely with the task of preparing for the Ball, Draco was put in charge of the lesser responsibilities that couldn't be delegated to a house-elf, such as welcoming the pianist and minstrels, and showing them where to set up. He did not see Viktor until four o'clock, when he finally retired to his room to prepare himself. He ascended the stairs and looked up to see a silhouetted figure by the window. He immediately thought it to be Viktor, but quickly corrected himself. Viktor was not as tall, nor had such narrow shoulders, and his posture was far different. But who it was, he didn't know. For a moment, the two just stood there, in silence.

"The allegiance of the Krum family has fell into much dispute, repeatedly over history," The figure spoke. His voice was old and wispy, his words were those of power – and of expectancy. "It will fall upon the eldest son of the last generation to decide upon it again in the coming years. Last time they made an unfavourable decision. This time, their allegiances will be far more important, and thus far more crucial that the right decision is made." The man began walking forwards, but his face was still in shadow. That mattered not; whom this stranger was was no mystery to Draco. "You know the allegiance of your own family."

"I do."

"And you stand by that."

"Irrefutably."

There was a greater pause this time. "You have some sway over Viktor."

Draco looked at him uncertainly, worried. "I... am unsure what you mean."

"You have the power to influence him. Power unused is power wasted, neglected. Do not neglect that power. We both have the same goals. We both want the the Krum family to be properly aligned. You understand the growing importance of this. And you have a unique influence over him that would be beneficial to employ."

"I... influence? I will try my best to persuade him," Draco said, quickly, remembering who he was talking to, "But we largely are inconsequential to one another."

Marden had come forwards a little farther, and Draco could see a slight smirk across the lords face, he chuckled darkly. "I hardly believe that-" He put a hand up to Draco's protests, "I am sure he has told you about the attitudes of our culture, Draco Malfoy?" Marden asked, raising an eyebrow.

Draco couldn't believe how easily their relationship had been deduced. "Yes," He admitted, grudgingly.

"And I understand the sensitivities of yours." A calculative expression came onto the powerful man's face, "In the interest of keeping such sensitivities abated, you should consider bringing Viktor in line with our values. Do you understand, child?"

Draco swallowed, trying to keep his face impassive. "I do."

Marden smiled triumphantly and nodded his head. "Then I shall see you at the ball, Mister Malfoy."

"Until then."

Marden inclined his head, and returned downstairs. Draco groaned. Politics, secrets, blackmail... welcome home.

.*.*.*.

He knocked on Viktor's door and was beckoned in. Viktor was sitting at the desk, folding a letter into an unaddressed envelope. Draco was curious as to who it was to, but held his tongue on the issue. "What did Marden want last night?" He asked, feigning ignorance.

"What he can never get," Viktor replied, dismissively. Draco stood there though, waiting for a better answer. "He offered me a deal, and I declined." The quiditch star huffed, "Run along, don't you have some blue-blooded arses to lick or something?" Draco gaped at him, shocked. "Go uphold your sensitive dignitaries, I have no time for you, Malfoy."

"Viktor! What the hell is-"

"Fuck off, Draco." The Russian cut in, viscously, turning round to the blond. "Stay away from me, go and fornicate with one of your cousins or something instead."

Spluttering and indignant, Draco backed out of the room. What the hell was that about? he wondered. Had he overheard him and Marden talking? Although it seemed the most obvious reason, was unlikely, as the aristocrat would have put up a privacy charm that would be hard to break. Marden wanted Draco's influence over him, and so it was unlikely he would do anything to sour their relationship at this point in time. Was Viktor angry from last night? That seemed preposterous, but Draco could think of no better explanation.

He felt a little hollow, silence was ringing in his ears. Viktors words kept repeating themselves in his head, so crude that they shouldn't hurt. They shouldn't hurt, but he and Viktor shouldn't be together, and nevertheless they were. Or, perhaps, had been. Snap out of it! Draco shook himself mentally.

Krum had no right treating him in this manner, he was seriously out of line. And Draco didn't need to put up with his shit any longer, Slytherin's were not known for their loyalty, and he didn't need to show the Russian any. I am gaining no advantage out of this relationship, the young aristocrat decided, I have no need for it. But try as he might, Draco couldn't fully convince himself of such a notion.

Pushing it away, he focused on getting himself ready for the Malfoy Ball. At seven thirty he entered the Ballroom and met with his mother and father, both of whom were in the finest dress robes money could buy, naturally. "A word, Draco," his father said, tightly, taking him to one side. "I have heard it you were less than regal at the Hogwarts Yule Ball, do not disappoint me tonight, unless you want to face very - severe - consequences." He bit the last three words out with constrained malignance, his clear blue eyes piercing into Draco's own.

"I... The Yule Ball?"

"Your dance was atrocious, that wench Pansy almost led you, and then you leave the moment you can slip away. I am unimpressed, do not let me down again."

"Of course not, father. I'm sorry," Draco apologised, trying not to wince as nails dug into his shoulder. His father stared into his eyes a moment longer, before releasing him.

Guests began arriving, and within the hour the Ballroom was filled with powerful, high-calibre people; aristocrats, politicians, duke's and lords, lady's and, from what Draco could tell, a few courtesan's.

Standing upon the balcony, his father called for everyone's attention. He gave a rather magniloquent speech Draco pretended to be interested in and clapped afterwards, whence Lucius ordered the Dance to commence. The orchestra stuck up, Lucius apparated in front of his wife and they began the dance. Many couples soon joined in, when Draco realised he was without a dance partner. His eyes swept the hall for someone suitable, when they landed on Daphne Greengrass, one of his classmates. He swept over to her and bowed slightly. "Care to dance?" She smiled slightly and allowed him to take her hand. They danced easily, making light conversation about the holiday and the Yule Ball. "I couldn't believe it when I saw my sister there," She remarked, "She's only in second year, but somehow managed to pass as someone's date."

"Really?" He asked, feigning interest.

"Yeah, you know Anthony Goldstein?"

"Vaguely."

"I think it was his sister."

"His sister?" Draco exclaimed, quietly, feeling rather shocked.

"Yes, mother was infuriated, doubtless to say. She's in quite a bit of trouble."

"Isn't she accounted for yet?"

"She wasn't going to be, as I'm already spoken for, but we're looking into it. Actually, me, her and father have had a rather cunning idea." She told him, her voice dropping to avoid being overheard. "We're thinking of trying to have her 'bear a beard', so to speak."

"Bear a beard?"

"Have her marry a gay man. It's a great cover-up, and mutually beneficial as both can bring people back to the house without fear of the other being disruptive."

Draco wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Ah... well, best of luck." He said, stepping apart as the music ended. "If you'll excuse me." He kissed her knuckles, and she smiled at him, tightly. There was the flicker of annoyance and frustration behind her eyes, though she tried to hide it. Daphne had always been surprisingly open as a Slytherin, but surely she was crossing some boundary? Her sister's persuasion was likely to be a dark family secret, why on earth had she told it to him?

He danced with a few more people from around his own age, none of them particularly interesting. Draco noted Amos Diggory talking to his father, who looked rather concerned but was nodding. He called over to someone, whom Draco recognised as one of the considerably younger courtesan's. In fact, she only looked about seventeen. Not wanting to observe the next scenes, Draco guided his dance partner further away from them.

As the dance ended and he stepped away from the girl, however, he was shocked to find the offer of a dance from the very same woman his father had just been talking to. He hesitated at her offer, naturally, his eyes darting around for some clue as to why she had approached him. "Ah, Draco." A hand clapped onto his shoulder from behind and he stiffened, recognising the voice of his father instantly. "This is Neaira. I trust you two will engage with each other for longer than one dance." Draco looked up at his father, feeling shocked and bewildered. Lucius raised one eyebrow. "I trust that this is not a problem, Draco?" He hissed, staring at his son dangerously. This was some kind of trial, "No." Draco replied, quickly, "No, not at all."

The two of them danced, but Draco felt rather awkward. Everyone had been growing steadily more intoxicated, and Neaira was dancing in a way that her body rubbed against his in unsettling ways. She gave him a provocative smile, tossing her hair a couple of times and swaying her hips more than she needed to. She had a thin waist but was voluptuous, and knew exactly how to move in a way that teased without looking overtly promiscuous. Draco swallowed a few times as she pressed her hip to his, meeting his gaze with a flirty smile, holding him there a moment, then spinning out.

Draco did not desire her for any kind of romantic involvement, he knew that much, but hell he was a teenage guy and she was a professional lady of night. Why his father had set him up with a harlot, he could only shudder to think, and on that note he remembered last night, when he and Viktor had almost been caught kissing, and then his despicable words to him that afternoon, and suddenly found himself liking this Neaira a whole lot more.

At the end of the third dance, she stepped a little closer, her breath tickling his ear. "Come away with me tonight, Draco, I'll show you a dance you've never seen before." Draco froze, his palms prickling as she stayed there, her offer hanging for him to take.

"N-no," He refused, in a hushed and shocked voice. "I – I'm sorry, I can't, that's just... I'm already spoken for and it... it would be inappropriate."

She narrowed her eyes, visibly annoyed. "Listen," she hissed, "You're father's received a tip that you need to be... put straight. He's offered me a considerable sum to ensure you're swayed by the female flesh. I really don't give a damn, but if you don't come with me now, I'm gonna get sod all and by the looks of it he's gonna beat the crap out of you till your begging for Hades open arms. So follow me and stare lustfully at my arse, for Circe's sake."

Draco felt a little stunned, but part of him was entirely unsurprised at his father's actions. He obediently followed her, realising she would probably consider it easy pay if she didn't actually have to do anything that night. He was admiring a good plan (and, okay, a brilliant arse), when a large hand grabbed his upper arm, spinning him around. "Vhere are you going?" Viktor asked, frowning.

"None of your business, Krum," Draco sneered. He felt rather cocky, knowing how jealous Viktor could be, and tasting a sweet bit of revenge on the tip of his tongue. Neaira draped her arms over Draco's neck, looking at him flirtatiously for a second before turning to Viktor. "Is there something you want?" She challenged him.

He narrowed his eyes, nostrils flared. "Yeah," he said, "I see your taken," Utter contempt filled his voice at this, "But I'm sure there's a few of your lot spare. Call someone over for me."

Draco flushed an angry red, he couldn't believe Viktor had trounced him so thoroughly. Neaira raised an eyebrow, though she wasn't unaccustomed to these scenes. As she left, Viktor grabbed Draco by the elbow and tugged him to the edge of the Ballroom, invading the boys' personal space and displaying his control. "Viktor, get off me," Draco spat, lurching against his inamorato's iron grip.

"Don't you dare go with her," Viktor growled.

"Or what?"

"You make it sound like you have a choice." They were talking in Russian as usual, but gaining some odd looks. Draco stepped back, trying to recompose himself.

"You didn't seem to give a damn this afternoon, did you?" Draco challenged. "What? You think you can just walk all over me because you're Viktor Krum? Well I'm a Malfoy, and you'd better get to grips with that, because I'm not taking any of this shit any more."

Viktor stared at him, stunned. "Come with me." He said, lowly.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no. I'm not leaving the ball unless it's with Neaira." Fury flashed across the Durmstrang's face. "Listen! My father's getting suspicious about me and apparently someone tipped him off. I'm just heading him off."

"Anything to appease that man," Viktor muttered under his breath, looking disgusted. Neaira came back with another extraordinarily pretty woman named Archianassa, who was clearly delighted at having such famous and handsome clientèle this evening. "We do not require your services this evening, I'm afraid." He told them, stoically. The two glanced at each other, looking a little angry. "Go."

They left, Viktor shaking with concealed fury and Draco glancing round the room nervously. "Viktor," He moaned, "God dammit I'm going to be killed. Oh no. Oh dear Circe they're going to my father." He almost whimpered. "You've ruined me now."

Viktor frowned at him, "Vhat do you mean?"

"Didn't you just hear me? Someone's tipped him off about me, that was a test, he set me up, I think he wanted to... oh Merlin save me..." Lucius was navigating the Ballroom floor to get to them, who were standing on the outskirts on the other side. Draco was in half a mind to just run for it, but his father had already seen him watching him, there was really no way out. "Look, don't you dare say anything, alright? I mean it, not a word, don't interrupt. You'll only make things worse. You've gotta promise not to make a big deal out of, please. And don't come for me tonight, wait until tomorrow, I'll see you first, don't, y'know, check up or -" He was babbling, but immediately cut off as his father came into earshot. Draco was almost trembling.

"Son, a word." Lucius instructed, seeming remarkably calm for Draco's anxiety. But he was a Slytherin and a Malfoy, and they could choose and wear any expression as easily as fine robes.

Draco followed his father nervously down a flight of stairs and into an antechamber. The door shut behind him and Lucius turned around to face him, a look of utter contempt spread across his features. "Do you believe me to be obtuse, Draco?"

"No father." He replied, averting his eyes. Eye-contact was never a good thing to his fathers temper.

"Are you so dense yourself that you cannot understand me?"

"I... I thought you only wanted us to engage in a few dances, father, I don't-"

Lucius struck him across the face and Draco stumbled back, gasping. He put his hand up to the stinging pain, and felt the wet of his blood. "Don't lie to me, Draco," His father snarled, "I thought you would have learnt some respect by now!" Draco kept his head down, trying to quell his fury, the last thing he wanted was for his enraged father to see that.

"Sorry, father." He bit out.

Lucius narrowed his pale blue eyes, "Why did you refuse the girl?" He demanded.

"I – I thought you were testing me," Draco pleaded, thinking fast, "I thought you wanted to make sure I was going to be loyal and not put my courtship with Pansy in danger, or was going to make a fool of myself because of some harlot or something!"

Lucius glared at him suspiciously, unconvinced. "Amos Diggory was telling me that his son suspected you of untoward affections, - is – this – true?"

"No, no father!" Draco swallowed, "That's disgusting." His heart was hammering, though, and he could feel beads of sweat pricking at his forehead. "And anyway, I've heard a lot of people saying they thought Cedric is a bit of a Nancy, he's probably just reacting to that, trying to cover it up, he might have heard my opinion on it – you know I think it's disgusting – and this is just his retaliation."

"You had better make sure your words are true," The elder Malfoy snarled, "And I thought I had given you the simple task of gaining that boy's alliance, how incompetent are you?!"

"Sorry father, I tried, I really-"

"Trying is not enough!" Lucius barked.

"I'm sorry!"

"You will be!" There was a flash and Draco was knocked back again, he screamed in pain as a jolt of power tore through his body, his back arched and he fell to the floor and cracked his head against it, noticing nothing but the searing pain extending through every nerve. It tore up his spine like an inferno of cold electricity, he saw nothing but the white light of pain. It slowly abated till he was conscious of being in a crumpled heap on the ground, sobbing and sore. "I expect more from you next time, Draco. You have let me down yet again. You are nothing but a disappointment." With that, Lucius Malfoy strode out of the room, dismantling the silencing charms he'd erected.

The moment his footsteps were out of earshot, Draco felt a pair of strong arms around him, pulling him up and into an embrace, a hand stroked his hair, comforting him. Draco knew those arms, and he knew that scent, he leaned into them, surrendering any restraint for the favour of the comfort the boy gave to him.

Viktor held his boyfriend, allowing him to cry into his robes and take comfort in his presence, knowing how few a time there had been where someone was there for him. He was trembling with constrained anger to go after Lucius and acquaint the man very well with his fists and heavy boots, but Draco needed him now. And doing that might vent his anger, but he knew it would only make Draco's life harder. One day... one day I'll pay him back for ever laying a finger on my lover, Viktor swore. But that would have to wait.

And Viktor could wait as long as it took.

One day.

***Aw, poor Draco. What did you think? Cookie for your thoughts? (I've no idea what a cookie is supposed to be short of a yummy snack I eat too many of, so that's a null statement). Viktor was going to knock Lucius out, but Draco pointed out that that would make life a hell of a lot harder and threw a strop, so Viktor decided he would just have to delay his viscous temper for another time.

As always, my OC's names are not random things I picked of a name generator, they are the names of some of the most famous ancient greek prostitutes. Quite fascinating, to research, actually.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, tell me if you did, and if you didn't please please let me know why. Questions and suggestions are also welcomed. Thanks for reading, hang in their, next update coming soon!***

-HaRo