"Roulette" by System of a Down

I have a problem that I cannot explain / I have no reason why it should have been so plain /
have no questions but I sure have excuse / I lack the reason why I should be so confused /
I know / how I feel when I'm around you, I / don't know / how I feel when I'm around you /
around you

Left a message but it ain't a bit of use / I have some pictures, the wild might be the deuce /
today you saw, you saw me, you explained / playing the show and running down the plane /
I know / how I feel when I'm around you, I / don't know / how I feel when I'm around you, I /
I know / how I feel when I'm around you, I / don't know / how I feel when I'm around you /
around you /

I / I know / how I feel when I'm around you, I / don't know / how I feel when i'm around you, I /
I know / how I feel when I'm around you, I / don't know / how I feel when I'm around you /
around you / around you / around you / around you /

Dolohov thrust his arm around Hermione's waist, gripping her fiercely. Draco grimaced as the man pushed his face towards hers, grateful for the current lack of spectators, the others having trickled out in boredom or frustration. The pangs of jealousy, of possessiveness, of lust, were best kept hidden behind his shadowy facade, and with only Dolohov, Hermione, Wormtail, and Draco's parents, he was not as closely watched.

"My earlier offer stands, Mudblood, if you'd like to take me up on that."

"Ha! You're more likely to get information out of me than to convince me to sleep with you! I guarantee you won't be accomplishing either, so your pretentious attempts are futile."

"What," he jeered, "you wouldn't rather get fucked than give up your hero?"

"As I said, I'll be doing neither. I'm not privy to the concept of surrender and, you see, I have these things called standards-"

Draco chortled, taking another drag of his fag and leaning back against the wall wearing a smug grin. Dolohov glared back at him.

"Bit cocky there, aren't you, boy?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows into a more distinct smirk.

"Superb use of language," he said, raising his left hand and gently slapping it a few times with his right. "I commend you."

He furtively met Hermione's eyes, grinding his teeth in resistance. If only he were the only Death Eater in the room- maybe he would be doing something - someone - more worth his while. Maybe, though, he'd just carp about how terrible it was that sex was no longer satisfactory whatsoever, no matter who he slept with. Even the highest-class escorts had proven to be no competition for Hermione. Pity they were over. Unfortunately, neither of them had considered, while making that decision, that they would be seeing each other anytime soon. Draco had known he wasn't to be returning to Hogwarts for what should have been their seventh term, and Hermione, to his knowledge, had been expected to, until she fled the scene of the wedding with Potter and Weaselby.

Draco momentarily wondered what state the two were in, off in the woods by themselves without their resources and their precious companion. The Order had safehouses, though. Surely there was some plan. If not, they seemed to be reckless enough to whip up plans of action fairly quickly. Draco hoped that helping them escape would prove not to be in vain. Luna swore that his allegiance was invaluable to either side, but Draco remained unconvinced. She was turning out to be a rather good friend, and he knew she was not as crazy as she put off to the other Death Eaters, but he still questioned the extent to which she was sane.

Hermione withheld from laughing as Draco sarcastically addressed the man holding her. As Dolohov was sneering back at him, she twisted his arms so that they were crossed painfully over each other, causing him to loosen his grip on her. He spun back around and slapped her but slid to the wood floor with the impact of a bony knee to his groin. Even as other Death Eaters flung themselves towards her, Hermione jeered at Dolohov.

"Bet you thought you'd get somewhere by making sure I was without a wand, didn't you?" she cackled. "In case you've forgotten, I was raised as a Muggle. I know how to fight just as well as a Muggle woman as I do a witch. I am the one with the advantage."

If she could only get far enough away from them, she really would have an advantage. As she doubted Draco had informed them, she knew her way around a majority of the Manor - which, considering the magnitude of the home, was saying a lot.

Narcissa ultimately was the person to get the tightest grip on Hermione, mostly because Hermione was surprised at the amount of force the woman was able to use. Not being a Death Eater herself, Draco's mother wasn't really supposed to do anything but cook and kiss her husband, but Hermione could see that frustration had begun to get the better of her. It had been almost a month already. Almost Hermione's entire body was practically covered in scars, and still she stood her ground. At first, Bellatrix and the others had seemed excited for a challenge, but they were not prepared to face an opponent as challenging as she. No one had lasted this long in the hands of the Death Eaters without dying or going crazy, and she didn't even give them the satisfaction of being out of fighting shape. Hermione knew that, for the Malfoys, she was a double-edged sword all her own. They more than anyone had every reason to want her dead, to want her far away from their home, from their son. If she was there much longer, they'd be seeing bedroom eyes from across the room, she could guarantee it.

Draco resisted the urge to groan as he awoke, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sunlight streaming through the infirmary windows. The first thing he noticed aside from the painful light was the arm draped gently over his chest. He broke out beaming before realising he had done so. They'd never actually slept together before, never fallen asleep together. Immediately he jumped to fearing that they were blurring the lines, but one look at her peaceful expression and he was biting his lip so forcefully that it bled. With the light cascading over her, she looked angelic.

He smirked as the previous night flashed through his mind. He hoped she'd brought more than just the potion she gave him before they fell asleep. His chest was hurting again. It felt like it was coming from the inside rather than from his cut, but he decided to believe they were related, because the other option was that he was having feelings for her - and he wasn't having feelings for her. He definitely was not. He wanted her to be the one making his potions as an easy excuse to have more sex with her. It wasn't like he actually trusted her with his life or anything like that.