A/N: I'm starting to forget to put the warnings on the chapters because there is something in almost all chapters. But this one is smut free, pretty much.

And the credits: Edwardloverx3 (here's more Theo), lizzmalfoy, scv914, gryff-slytherin, and Anon, thank you all. My heart always does a little pitter-patter when I see an email that says "Review alert".

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Chapter 29: Party

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Some hours later, Draco was guiding Hermione through a long corridor full of ancient ancestor paintings, which were hissing insults at her, toward the party room in the Zabini mansion. Once again the conversation stopped, when they entered the room together.

Draco was confident that he had dressed Hermione appropriately. He had found a black linen blouse in her wardrobe that he had transformed into a belted linen tunic. With some white flares on her long legs below, she looked positively appetizing. The black in her tunic gave her face a rosy glow and enhanced her dark eyes and he couldn't wait to dig into her flesh once again. Guiding her by the small of her back he dropped his hand a little lower to feel the firm roundness of her bottom in anticipation. She jumped a little but didn't move away. He smirked. Hermione wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Not even the coolness that swapped over them coming from the people present in the room would deter him. He realized that his escort turned heads, although likely for some right and some wrong reasons. He felt the jeering, the sneering and the leering likewise in the air.

He was glad that Zabini approached them. "Draco, thank Merlin, you came. Granger." He greeted her coolly.

"Zabini," she replied equally cool.

Draco put his hand around her waist and pulled her close to his front. She came with a jerk and a little twitch to her mouth. "Zabini, let's try that again. I'm sure you can give Hermione a better greeting," he snarled.

It was a sign of the intense Slytherin training that Blaise's jaw didn't drop. Try as he might, his face twitched a little. Biting the inside of his mouth, he held onto it and said somewhat more cordially through pressed lips: "Hermione Granger, what a pleasure to receive you in my house. May I introduce my fiancée, Pansy Parkinson?"

As if out of thin air, he pulled Pansy from behind his back all of a sudden to his side. Draco nodded to her.

"Pansy."

"Draco. Granger."

"Parkinson."

Each of the four eyed each other carefully, until Zabini chuckled.

"Well, now that we are all introduced, let the party begin. Granger, you may want to try the punch, it's delicious."

"Thank you, Zabini. It's green. I think, I'll start with water," Hermione replied, still a little reserved.

Blaise smirked. "Ah, Granger. It won't make you any friends if you stay sober and stay away from green all night."

Hermione smirked cheekily back. "Be that as it may, I said I start with water. I'm thirsty. I didn't say what I'll have after that, once it's satisfied."

"That's the spirit," Zabini grinned, leading her over to the drinks table.

Pansy sidled up to Draco, watching them go. "You dressed her well," she said.

"She has a lot of potential," Draco rebuked.

Pansy laughed. "I'm sure she does."

"Pansy," he warned her.

"No worries, no worries, I'll be on my best behaviour," Pansy smirked.

Watching Draco look after Hermione standing with Blaise at the drinks' buffet, she had to add: "Granger, hm?"

Draco Malfoy exhaled through his nose. "I suppose." He moved his fingers to get rid of the tension in the hand that had just touched Hermione's bottom.

Pansy nodded. "I'll have to get used to it, but I suppose it makes sense."

Draco eyed her suspiciously. "How does is make sense?"

Pansy tilted her head back and forth. "I can't quite put my finger on it but she captures you somehow. Always has. Ever since you called her mudblood. Ah, and watch my fiancé charm her."

They were watching Hermione laugh freely at something Zabini had said, and his responding grin.

"I think I'll break them up. Now that she has discovered her taste for Slytherins, I don't want her to steal my man. Blaise is no self-denier. And she looks delicious tonight," Pansy Parkinson stated.

"You do that," Draco answered her back, suppressing a growl at the thought that Zabini would snatch Granger away from him, and watched subsequently how Pansy attached herself to Blaise's arm.

While he stood to watch Granger banter with Zabini and Pansy keeping watch, more Slytherins, from his year and above, mingled up to him.

"Malfoy, what's gotten into you? A mudblood?" Derrick hissed at him.

Bole added: "You're bringing Hermione Granger, the world's most famous mudblood to Zabini's party?"

"Have you gone soft in your head?" Marsters from two years above suggested.

"Shut it," he hissed at them. "What I do in my free time is none of your concern."

Bole regarded him as if he had discovered a new species of toad in his backyard: a little fascinated but disgusted by its ugliness at the same time. "What does she have on you?"

Draco Malfoy was taken aback. Since you were never to show your true emotions in Slytherin land, he just examined his fingernails carelessly and drawled: "Care to explain?"

Bole grinned evilly. "It's clear that for you to bring her with you, she has to know something about you or your family to blackmail you with, and I wonder what that is. Has she found you somewhere playing hide the broomstick with little boys? And she must have pictures."

Draco looked at the other man as if he had just told him that the sun is hot. Very hot. Duh.

"Bole, just … that's disgusting. Has it ever occurred to you in your pea brain to ask yourself why Hermione Granger of all people could possibly want to blackmail me to take her to a Slytherin party? You think she gets a kick out of being called a mudblood?" He knew he couldn't deny Bole's assumption or it would be published as a fact in the Daily Prophet tomorrow. A counterattack was always the best way. "Just how many girls have I fucked?"

Bole shrugged. "Don't know, 25?"

"53."

Bole sneered. "Hard to keep track with so many."

Draco looked bored again. "I have an accountant. He keeps track of the gifts I'm giving out. Do you think I have time to play with boys?"

If Bole became a little uncertain, you would have only known it by the reddening of his ears. "Whatever," he said.

"I let you in on a little secret, Bole. Because you were always my favourite Big Brother, amongst all the other Big Brothers you showered with, slippery soap and all. Since you mentioned pictures," Boles left eyelid twitched a little nervously. It wasn't as if you actually needed proof: just to throw out the allegedly supported suspicion to the press sometimes was enough to ruin somebody's reputation or life. All Slytherins knew that and they lived on tricking each other into keeping the peace and quiet. Hermione would have rolled her eyes at the convolutedness of it, since you could have peace so much easier by just being nice. But where was the fun in simply living peacefully with your neighbour and sharing your apply harvest and barbecue?

Draco Malfoy stepped forward and placed his arm around Bole's shoulders as if to whisper in his ear. Although he bent to Bole's ear, he said for everybody around him: "Granger and I are adjuncted."

"Adjuncted? What does that mean?" Derrick said, finally getting a word in.

Draco gave him an indulgent smile. "For the less informed, an adjunction is when two magical energies unite and combine their powers, making the witch and/or wizards four times stronger than before."

As scrawny as he had looked at age eleven when he had started Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy was the descendent of a powerful family and he had grown into his magic and his body. He was a worthy opponent amongst Slytherins, bitingly quick, efficient, and strong, and to fight him, you would have to be well prepared. Slytherins rarely fought open duels. They rather tried to sneak spells in from behind, to save their own respective hide. But it was common knowledge that Draco Malfoy was very good at it. To hear that he had even more power now, because of some weird connection with Granger, who was undeniably powerful, was a bit disconcerting. They didn't know if he told the truth (a completely overrated concept by Slytherin standards) but they weren't quite sure if they wanted to find out.

They eyed him with raised eyebrows. He gave them his iciest glare until they shrugged and Marsters mumbled something like "Alright, then," and they moved back to their respective groups, mumbling disgusted.

'Thank you, guys. Get the rumour mills churning." Draco thought to himself curtly when he saw his adversaries retreating.

He had been hanging around Granger for too long. This power play game was ingrained into his brain waves, but at times it was so tiring to tweak information and anticipate your counterpart's next move. Feeling a little lassitude, Draco had the urge to touch Granger. Because it tingled warmly and because she felt good. Her skin was smooth as silk and velvet and it energized, and sometimes aroused, him to have his hands on it. He moved over to where she still stood with Pansy and Blaise.

The broad majority of guests remained quiet and observed. As usual. He heard a rebellious whisper or two on his way over, but none other approached him with regard to his choice of companion. Draco gave a nod in greeting to Theo and Astoria which was returned. It seemed that he still commanded some respect amongst his circles. Nobody else defied him openly.

When he reached Hermione, he put one hand in her back with an inner sigh and felt the warmth tingling up through his arm as usual, even through the cloth on her skin. He couldn't take her in his arms or go under her tunic to actually touch her skin and make a PDA for everybody else to see. Not quite yet. For something scandalous as this, Slytherins needed to be warmed up, so you had to serve information in small bites. Very small bites. But he could claim her as his with his hand on her.

They chatted with Zabini and Parkinson, telling them as well about the strength gains of the adjunction, but skirting around other things regarding their adjunction to keep it to a minimum. Hermione had been smart enough to not say anything else and let him do the talking, since he knew best which information to indulge to his peers and which to keep back. She leaned back into him and just confirmed with nodding.

While they had moved to Theo and Astoria, luckily, Granger got along with Theo so well, Pansy shared with her husband-to-be:

"Oh, for the love of Salazar, look at him. He's completely besotted with her. What did she do to him?" Pansy exclaimed in a quiet corner away from said couple to her fiancé.

Blaise chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I would say you were jealous, Pansy dear."

She huffed. "Jealous. Why would I be jealous? I'm just concerned for Draco. He always had a thing for her but the way he is now, he's not himself."

Blaise looked dubious. "He had a thing for her? How do you figure that?"

Pansy sighed. "Blaise, were you blind when we went to the Yule Ball?"

He grinned. "No, blinded, not blind. And rather busy. I didn't pay attention to the male population of Hogwarts that night, that's for sure."

Pansy grumbled. "Fine. Anyway, he couldn't take his eyes of her all night. I admit she had looked well. But Draco was unresponsive to anything that didn't concern her. Every second word was mudblood and how they shouldn't be allowed at the school and in particular not to a ball like this."

Blaise chuckled. That must have been a blow to Pansy's self-esteem. No wonder, she didn't like the golden girl.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"You know he would never tell. And it's the thing with besotted people that they deny the very fact, Blaise. You know that."

"I don't think he looks besotted. Maybe a little … tied-up with her, but then, they are magically connected." Blaise smirked over to where his mate stood with Hermione Granger, still with his hand on her as they had been while talking to him and Pansy, in a far corner of the living room of his mother's mansion. His mother was out, partying somewhere else, likely trying to secure husband number nine. Or ten. Who was counting when you actually had to use two hands?

"He can't take his hands of her. What does she give him?"

"Maybe she's good in bed. You know, Pansy, it's always the quiet ones."

Pansy, still Parkinson, soon to be Zabini, snorted delicately. "Granger, the prude Gryffindor princess? I don't think so. And she was never quiet, as such."

"Hm, Draco the Slytherin prince with the Gryffindor princess. Somehow I find that fitting." When he saw Pansy take a deep breath for an expected rant, he continued quickly: "Well, it leaves you with only one course of action. You'll have to talk it out of her." Blaise grinned at his soon-to-be wife. He couldn't wait for the day. Pansy had a mind-set that he had already admired while they had been at school. He wanted to make her his own.

"I suppose, I'll just have to do that. Wish me luck." Pansy straightened her shoulders. She would not cower while grilling the infamous Gryffindor mudblood.

"You won't need it. If anyone can do it, it'll be you." Blaise grinned. "And send Draco over to me. I want to try my own luck."

Pansy grunted in confirmation and made her way over to the corner where Draco Malfoy stood very close with Hermione Granger, apparently deep in discussion.
She put on her best smile before she addressed her childhood friend. "Draco, dear, Blaise wants to talk to you."

It confirmed her worst suspicions when the platinum-blond Malfoy heir looked her way irritated for the interruption and then turned back to the woman at his side to ask: "Hermione?"

Pansy inhaled. "Don't worry, I'll keep her company."

Draco Malfoy sent her a suspicious glance. "That's what I was afraid of."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to hex her. She'd make mincemeat out of me if I tried." When he still hesitated, she urged. "Go. Unless you want to participate in girl's talk."

Draco turned to Hermione gently: "Are you going to be okay?"

Hermione Granger gave him a small smile: "Of course, I will be. What's she going to do, grab and disapparate with me? You are within sight, just on the other side of the room."

The thought of Pansy grabbing and disapparating with Hermione didn't sit well with him and his frown showed it. But knowing that she would have to face his friends at one point and stand up for herself, he simply said: "Right," right into her temple, with his lips only millimetres short of actually touching it.

When he turned and sauntered of, Hermione regarded his well-formed retreating back. She focused to the woman with her, when Pansy said: "So, Granger."

Hermione smiled the small smile again. "So, Parkinson."

"You and Draco, hm?"

"What about it, Parkinson?"

"You know, it'll be Zabini soon, better get used to it."

"Oh, does that mean I'll be going to see you frequently from now on?" Hermione huffed.

Pansy rebutted her quietly: "If you'll stay with Draco, then, yes, you will be."

Hermione sobered immediately: "Sorry." Parkinson was right. If she was going to date Draco, or even if she just worked the compow with him on friendly terms, she would have to meet his friends as well. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad. Zabini had only been indifferent, not hostile while at Hogwarts, and she already enjoyed Theo's company. She was weary of Pansy Parkinson, though. Pansy had always appeared bitchy to her. But she would have to try, for Draco's sake. And who knew how she and her Gryffindors had appeared to them?

After a contemplative pause, Pansy added. "I wonder what he sees in you, you know."

Well, at least, she didn't beat around the bush, Parkinson did. Hermione could live with that. It was some kind of honesty. If Hermione hated anything, it was the convoluted, misleading way Slytherins talked to each other as if in code. They thought of themselves as particularly clever and expected everybody else to either understand them or piss off. It wasn't that she didn't understand them but it was so tiring to find meaning behind their snide remarks. She snorted. "Why don't you ask him?"

Pansy waved her hand dismissively. "He would never tell. That's why I'm asking you."

Hermione smiled grimly. "I'm not telling either. It's not my place to tell."

Pansy eyed her sharply. "Oh, but it is, Granger. The way I see it, from observing him, I think he is head over heels for you and that has never happened with Draco before. So, you must have done something to him and I wonder what that was."

Hermione snorted again and turned away to look out the window. Another one who couldn't believe that Draco could simply be attracted to something in her, Merlin forbid. No, she would have had to bewitch him.

"If you think, I put him literally under my spell, go and check for the traces of my magic. You won't find any, because there are none."

Pansy chuckled. "But your magic is all over him. You could have snugged a little spell in."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not a Slytherin. I don't bewitch men to like me. I wait for the one who does it naturally."

This time Pansy snorted. "We don't bewitch them either. We just stage ourselves to our best advantage under any given circumstances."

"And tweak the circumstances," Hermione huffed.

"Perhaps," Pansy conceded grinning. Hermione felt the corners of her mouth pull up a little. But it was a short lived moment.

"Draco hates being manipulated. If you set yourself up to your best advantage, he would see right through it and feel manipulated. Why didn't you wait if he found something in you that he liked?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "But that could have taken forever. And what if he didn't find anything to his liking?"

"Then it wouldn't have been right to have him."

Pansy smirked. "Ah, see, Granger, that's where we disagree. We Slytherin women, we take the man we want, keep him entertained and don't wait."

Hermione nodded. "I see. And you would have taken a man who realized at one point that he has been manipulated and got the cat in the sack and despised you for it. And he would scream in betrayal and blame you for the mess he was in. How lovely."

She focused on Pansy who had gone pale while staring in the same direction as Hermione, out the window, realizing what Hermione meant. Lack of brain had never been Pansy's problem. Hermione really took in this girl who had gone to school with her. Pug-faced or not, Pansy's dark hair and pale skin made her look a little like Snow white. Ambition glittered in her sapphire blue eyes but Hermione couldn't blame her for that. She suspected that was how Slytherin girls were raised. It made sense, therefore, if this was what he got from all pureblood girls, that Draco had been enthralled by a woman who didn't fall for his "I'm the Malfoy heir" tune and tried to better her social standing through a match with him. She said as much.

"Perhaps that is exactly the reason why Draco is with me. Perhaps he felt he'd seen enough lies, being who he is, with women out trying to catch and capture him. I would actually be happier if he wasn't the Malfoy heir. It makes things very complicated."

Pansy kept silent for a long minute. Then, trying to recover some good about her house, she said quietly: "We look out for our own as well, you know."

Hermione snorted once more. "If that was the case, you wouldn't have let him suffer as he did in sixth year."

Pansy huffed. "I watched his suffering, watching over him, observing him if I could help. But there was nothing I could have done. It was his doing, the suffering," she said. "And you seemed to be doing an admirable job," she added with a smirk.

Hermione twitched in alarm. "You knew?"

Pansy sneered. "I watched him every second of every day, when possible. Why do you think I clung to him like a pest?"

"To shag him, to capture him, to make him marry you?" Hermione growled.

Pansy barked a laugh. "Yes, we shagged, improving our skills, getting it out of our systems. But that was all we ever did. Somewhat like friends with benefits. We could have never fallen in love, just like you and Potter. But we would have made a great couple. He is so powerful. With my support, he could have become the next Dark Lord."

Hermione snarled. "I know all about his powers. I share them, remember? But you would have smothered him in the process. This clearly shows that you know nothing about Draco. Oh, yes, he is powerful and he would have had the ability, but it would have killed him to be anything like a Dark Overlord. From the inside out."

Pansy regarded Hermione Granger's grimace thoughtfully. It was a painful grimace, imagining pain from a development that would kill all humanity within yourself because of what you were doing.

"You really love him, do you?" Pansy said, struck by the wave of emotions swapping over from the Gryffindor.

"I wouldn't know why it was any of your concern." Hermione mumbled. "And why I should tell you of all people."

Pansy laughed quietly. "I saw you, you know?"

Hermione huffed. "And what exactly did you see?"

Pansy scrutinised the golden Gryffindor next to her. "I saw him meet you in the hallways. And even though I didn't hear what you said and didn't know what had happened before, it was clear from the way he stood that he was not indifferent. And certainly not as repelled as he should have been. And I saw him, sitting at your bedside at St. Mungo's, desperate for you to regain consciousness."

"Yeah, well, that's history."

Pansy shook her head. "History in the making. You two will make history with your powers."

"We'll see," Hermione hedged.

Pansy straightened up. "Yes, we will."

When Hermione preferred to keep silent, Pansy carried on to the other topic that was still burning on her tongue: "So, you're adjuncted, hm?"

"Yes, we've already told you." Hermione confirmed shortly.

Pansy nodded. "Maybe it makes sense, in the grand scheme of things, to have a pureblood and a muggleborn connected. After all the rubbish with the Dark Lord, perhaps it'll help the healing. A Malfoy of all people." She shook her head in thought.

When Hermione's head came up to regard her, because Pansy had intuitively picked up a very important dimension of opposites, she added ruefully: "I'm sorry for wanting to hand Potter over, the day of the final battle."

Hermione snorted once more: "You should apologize to Harry, not to me."

When Pansy nodded bashfully, Hermione added: "If you don't want people to see you as a bitchy backstabber, you should stop doing it, the bitching and the backstabbing. Find a better use for your time. Brains enough you have."

Pansy inhaled deeply but before she could reply anything, Astoria materialized at her side and said: "Pansy, leave."

Sending one dark look at Astoria, Pansy shrugged and with a cheeky grin she said "See you around, Granger. Nice ring", and moved on.

Hermione eyed the next candidate in the game "Let's grill Granger, since we have her here for once" with caution. What did Astoria want? She didn't let her in the dark for too long. With one glance at Hermione's right hand and the ring there, she blurted out: "A ring? He gave you…" Hermione hid her hand in the crook of her folded arms, not wanting to provoke the other girl further. She was on Slytherin territory, after all.

A glimmer of realization in her blue eyes, Astoria's face darkened when she growled: "What do you have with Theo?"

One more snort later, Hermione said exasperatedly: "Nothing. We snogged in the library once or twice. It's long past."

Astoria eyed her sceptically: "You never slept with him?"

"Like you and Draco, you mean?" Hermione couldn't keep the jealous anger out of her voice entirely, but shook her head. "No."

Astoria laughed lightly. "Ah, but Draco and I were engaged. You were just a passing fling to Theo."

Hermione growled. How dared she? "How would you know? Perhaps I didn't want to pursue it any further."

Astoria accepted it with a nod. "Good. Keep it that way. He's mine, you know."

Hermione could have howled laughing. Damn Slytherins and their power games. It was so mind-boggling and so unnecessary. "Yes, I know. He chose you. Not over me, the way Draco chose me over you, way before you got engaged, but Theo chose you, and that's all fine and dandy. Be good to him, alright? He's a good guy."

Astoria snorted. She might have been offended but she wasn't stupid. She understood that she had provoked the blatant disrespect. Hermione Granger didn't want to play intricate mind games. She could, but she didn't want to. "Likewise. Be good to Draco. He has needs."

Hermione barked one laugh. "That he does, alright."

Astoria huffed. "Makes sense that you figured that out already."

"Well, at times, it pays off to be the smartest witch of our age," Hermione grinned.

Astoria grinned as well. It felt good at times to be just open and honest. "Smartness has nothing to do with it. But from what I saw at lunch time, you had a good handle on the situation."

Hermione's grin turned into a solid smirk. "On the contrary, smartness has everything to do with it. And I "handle" situations well in general."

Now Astoria laughed.

She had a nice laugh, Astoria did. And it would have been nice to just watch her laughing, a Slytherin girl with a Gryffindor girl, if not the degrees in the room had gotten a few degrees clammier with the late arrival of new guests.

At the same time while Hermione had talked to Pansy and then Astoria, a similar game called "Are you out of your mind, and if not, tell us immediately what's going on, Draco" was played on the other side of the room.

Seeing Draco approach hesitantly when Pansy had sent him over, Zabini greeted his friend with "Draco, my man, I knew you were attracted to her but girlfriend? What's wrong with simple shagging?" as soon as Draco had almost reached his side. A remark that made Draco stop in his tracks. He had dreaded this conversation. It was a sign of his friends' absolute bafflement that they didn't even bother with any polite verbiage.

Theo next to Blaise just smirked. He was the only one who had already seen Draco and Granger "interacting" together. But he was equally curious for better explanations. Next to Theo stood Gregory Goyle and looked as unconcerned as his boulder-like self had always projected. A petite blond was attached to his side and he had his arm slung over her shoulder. She was drowning a bit against Goyle's massive shoulder, but her alert eyes showed good humour. Her eyes widened at seeing another attractive member of Goyle's circle of friends coming to join them but she cuddled into Goyle's arm to show her place.

Draco said: "Goyle" with a nod in greeting.

Goyle took up the cue and nodded to him, saying: "Draco. This is Kaitlin. She works at the café across from my place. We got talking."

Draco nodded to the girl in question but remained mute otherwise. Goyle got the hint. He turned away with the girl in his arm and motioned to her: "Let's get a drink. There's gonna be man's talk and you don't want to hear it." With a nod to his friends, he said: "Later, guys," and trotted off.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Zabini cast a Muffliato and urged his friend: "Alright, Draco, spill."

"Zabini," Draco whined.

"Oh, come on, Draco. You can't just bring her here and not tell me how she ended up as your girlfriend. Does she go down on you? Can she do the cowgirl ride? Does she scream?"

Draco just shook his head. "I never said girlfriend." Easing into it was the key word. To start off with "girlfriend" was sure to raise more protest.

Theo took the heavy load of spilling his guts of his friend with a leading question. "What does being adjuncted mean, Draco? Except for the strength gain, that is," he asked quietly.

After a sigh, Draco replied equally quiet: "It means that our magic is equally strong and that the magic itself chose us to create something magical together. We are stronger when together, which is almost unnecessary because she is one bloody powerful witch, but we also feel connected through the adjunction. It's not that I can feel each and every one of her thoughts or whimsies. But I can feel the magic in her and how it reflects her mood and anticipate the way it is going, how she is shaping it and where she is sending it. And she can feel the same in me."

He didn't need to tell them each technical detail right away. There was time for it later. He needed to give them an overview of what the connection with Granger gave him and did to him, though. They were his best mates. A little embarrassed to have to admit to so much "feeling" with regards to Granger, he couldn't look his friends straight in the faces and so he let his gaze drift over their heads. Once again, watching the light reflect in the chandelier of the room, he thought that in the isolation over the last few days it had been enjoyable to share intimacy. But in the light of day, scrutinized by people in their lives, it didn't look quite as cosy as it used to do, their connection. He understood Hermione's insecurity from the afternoon better, in that moment. She had anticipated this.

They were two people who had never, and if not for their adjunction, would have never shared their lives. Through their connection and their constant closeness, they had developed feelings but would they be able to match their lives together? Would Hermione ever feel comfortable in the company of his friends and his family? Would he always have to bite his tongue when meeting with the weasel and her other friends? Would they have to seclude themselves somewhere? And what when they got tired of the shagging? What else was there, separated from their regular lives, without friends and family?

He bit his lip. It wasn't quite as bleak as these doubtful thoughts painted. She already knew a few of his friends and she got along with them, Theo and Zabini. He, himself could stand being in the same room as Potter and the Weas.., Ginny, so, there. Some Weasleys were quite okay, like the remaining twin of the pranksters. At least, they were all Quidditch players and he had a topic of conversation.

And they would spend more time in the near future to further explore their compow and everything could develop slowly from there. Like a dating couple. He would take her out to dinner and send her flowers. They would do things together, the way normal couples did before they decided how they wanted to spend their lives together. There would be fights, but that was normal. They had the advantage that they already felt deeply connected, even if it was still very fresh. They didn't have to make any lasting decisions right away. Perhaps the deep feelings evened out at one point and they were free to pursue other love partners?

It clenched in his chest, hard. No. Perhaps that was out of the question. And that was okay. For the time being in any case.

Surfacing out of his deep thoughts, he saw his friends grinning at him.

"What?" he snarled, irritated. He just saw Theo and Zabini exchange one amused look, then they faced him again.

"Thinking about her?" Zabini grinned.

Theo snickered. "I've never seen you so far away, Draco. Goodness, but you've got it bad."

"Don't know what you're talking about," he growled annoyed.

Blaise patted his shoulder. "No worries, my friend. Everybody deserves to be in love at one point. Enjoy it while it lasts. At least, she can appreciate my humour. Pansy is still working on that." He turned toward the buffet tables. "Hm, it seems the punch is gone. I'll go and refill it."

Theo stayed, looking at his grumpy friend. "Draco, she's pure gold. If she feels for you and you feel for her, by all means, take it."

Draco's head whipped to his mate. He and Theo had shared many things as boys growing up, but girl woes they had kept to a minimum. "How do you know?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "Come on, you know how she is, how fierce. And you know that I kissed Granger. I'm sure you dragged it out of her. If she's halfway as good as she kisses and combined with her fierceness, well, …" He didn't finish his sentence.

Draco growled again. To imagine that Theo and Granger…; and after he felt her nervousness today when Theo stood so close to her. He gripped Theo's arm.

Theo held his hands up defensively. "Mate, nothing ever happened but kissing. And a little groping. Over the clothes. And if you let me go, I'll tell you why."

Draco let him go reluctantly but stood directly in his face. Theo brushed off his arm, where Draco had held him, and looked straight back at his friend. "You want to know why nothing happened between me and Granger?"

"Spit it out already," Draco snarled.

Theo nodded. "Because she was already attached. I thought at the time, she was attached to Potter, and she just wanted to experiment a little, you know? Tinker with the bad guys, see your worth, get a little experience, see how far you can go, and so on. She was tempting, the Gryffindor golden girl. We all thought she was Potter's or the weasel's girl, and that they were deranged because neither one ever touched her in public. Little did we know, until Potter started going out with the Weaselette, but we so wanted to get one over on him. And I wanted to see if there was a girl behind all this teasing braininess. But there was something in her, like a magical barrier, and the deeper I got with the kissing, the more it pushed me back. I think, she liked it and she would have liked to do more, but it just felt wrong. I couldn't even get my hands under her jumper. It wouldn't budge."

Draco eyed his friend incredulously. Granger had said that kissing Theo had been after their run-in in the classroom. A magical barrier? Was it a part of the adjunction magic to exclude certain other potentials?

He chuckled. Okay, Theo was out. Draco felt like doing a little conga. Magically determined or not, it felt good to be chosen to be the right man for Granger, and not Theo. Finally, he was the right man for something.

Theo regarded him curiously. "What's so funny?"

Draco chuckled again. "Looks like I got there first. We figure that the magic selected us way before our adjunction. So, whatever you have felt pushing you back when you kissed Granger, was the magic, I figure. She was already destined for me."

Theo raised an eyebrow. "Well, I got to kiss her first, didn't I?"

Draco smirked and quirked an identical eyebrow. "I got to your wife-to-be first, legally, want to continue?"

Theo paled. "You did..?"

Draco shook his head. "No, I was not her first, if that's what you mean. Why don't you ask her? You didn't really think, she was a virgin, did you?"

Theo shook his head. "No. But as pissing contests go, that would have been devastating." Then he chuckled. "Looks like you're one up."

Draco grinned. "Yep. The next piss is on me."

Theo grinned back. "I'll take you up on it. Let's …"

He wasn't able to finish his sentence because the degrees in the room had just gone down quite a bit and the cold was of the kind that seeps into your bones.

When Draco Malfoy noticed Flint and Pucey in the doorway, he felt lead plummet in his stomach. Ice cold lead, to be exact. Not a particular pleasant feeling. Flint, he thought. And Pucey. Oh, no. Of all the bloody bastards to show up. He really didn't need this. He had survived being tortured by the Dark Lord or his helpers, taken immeasurable pain, but he couldn't stomach two guys who had played Quidditch with him. Pathetic. Granger, where was Granger?

He instinctively searched out Hermione, who still stood with Astoria over at the French doors, apparently in a light conversation because they were laughing. As soon as he looked over her way, she looked to him. Of course, she had noticed the change in the air as well.

Being so far away from her worried him. Their strength still stood, so he wasn't concerned that she wouldn't be able to defend herself, but he would have rather liked her closer. He needed Granger to calm him. Blast.

"Well, well, well," Flint said, strutting into the room.

Sensing more than seeing Draco's irritation in his to others placid face, Hermione tried to make her way over to him quickly. Plus she felt better to be right next to him. Covering someone else's back with your own was an honourable way of battle, in case it came to that. And Draco's worry certainly indicated the probability, that yes, it could come to that.

She didn't make it, because Flint stepped into the middle of the room, cutting her path off, and Draco felt sweat break out in his neck. Fuck!

Flint ignored Hermione for the moment, capturing the attention of the room. "We just heard the biggest news. Our Drakie here has entangled himself with a mudblood," Flint sneered as a way of greeting.

Everybody in the room froze at once and Draco felt their gazes locked on him and Flint, mesmerized at what was going to be the spectacle they had all been waiting for. He could hear their thoughts churning: somebody had to do something about Malfoy appearing with the mudblood. Just not them. Right? Right. Fuck again. Get over here, Granger.

He wasn't surprised, they had already found out. He knew how fast word got around. That's why he had to take action immediately this morning. He'd been friends with Pansy for a long time, he knew how gossip worked. He exchanged a glance with Hermione around Flint and Pucey standing between them. His raised eyebrow said as much as 'see how fast the gossip travels?' She replied with a shrug, meaning 'Yes, I see.', but worried her lip when she saw something develop in his eyes, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen before. Intense dislike and disgust was the worst Draco had ever shown toward Ron and Harry and her. She'd never seen real hate in his steel grey eyes.

"And he means business because he introduced her to his family," Pucey added in his nasal voice.

"And he's connected to her. Magically." Flint strutted a few steps until he stood directly in front of Draco. "Did she entrap you?" he said in a baby voice that reminded uncomfortably of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Are you too stupid to watch your own back? Did you let yourself be tricked by a little mudblood?" Draco kept his gaze sternly fixed on Flint without blinking, as Slytherins had been trained to do since they were in their cribs. To look away was a sign of weakness. Don't swallow, Draco, old man, he talked to himself. He probably can already smell your sweat but for all that's holy, don't swallow. It was difficult because flashes of memories of a yellow dress and straw moving rhythmically invaded his mind and dried his throat from unusual heat.

Hermione used the fact that they were focusing on Draco to walk closer until she didn't feel so awfully stretched anymore. For some reason, Draco felt particularly tense around Flint and Pucey, which was strange. Hadn't they played Quidditch together for Merlin knew how long? Weren't they Death Eater buddies? But Hermione received his annoyance loud and clear. His magic clenching and vibrating while his body remained quite unaffected to the outside eye had never happened before.

"Yeah, don't tell us crap like it's on the Dark Lord's order or some such rubbish. The Dark Lord is dead. That leaves only one option: you like being connected to her." Pucey piped up a few steps behind his apparent leader.

"So, what if I do? We adjuncted, there is nothing we could have done against it," Draco replied darkly, and was glad that his voice didn't show that his throat was drier than a salt lake.

The collective intake of breath from the few who hadn't received this piece of surprising news yet was cut short when the two opposing young men laughed crudely. The mumbling that had just started stopped immediately again, because nobody wanted to miss a word Flint was saying.

"Adjuncted. Is that the new code for "I want to shag a mudblood because she screams so nicely and I don't care if she is beneath me or not"?" Pucey jeered.

"Malfoy, going soft. How dare you bring a mudblood into our midst?" Flint spat.

Pucey frowned. "It's unnatural to be attracted to a mudblood, Malfoy, don't you know that? Have you gone mad?"

"Or is she supposed to be the fun for tonight? I'll have the first go, I'm the oldest," Flint bragged, mistakenly, and grabbed his crotch.

Draco Malfoy growled, suppressing a shudder. No! They would not touch Hermione. Never! Just to imagine … "You are contradicting yourself, Flint," he growled again.

Hermione had seen his suppressed shudder and it worried her. Flint and Pucey couldn't see it, but Malfoy slipped slowly but surely into the high alert range. She could already hear alarms going off. "Danger. Overload."

Sensing an escalation as well, Theo came over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Draco," he said calmly.

Flint ignored Malfoy's comment about contradiction and continued to rile him up. He tilted his head and said with a sly smile: "Not for everybody? Did Malfoy really bring her here as his guest? My, she must be good in the sack, then. I'd like to try a hot pussy like that." Flint made a crude grimace, jeering, and moved his hips suggestively.

Shaking. His hands were shaking. Bloody hell, Malfoy. Take a deep breath and calm yourself. What's wrong with you? Another flash of white freckled skin and an inhuman scream made his heart rate go further up, so that he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. And he felt sweat appear on his upper lip. Oh, Merlin, no, he was losing it.

"Flint," Theo barked, feeling Malfoy twitch and tense under his hands.

Flint turned to Nott. "Ah, you too. Were you able to put your pecker away with her as well? Don't even mind that she helped putting away your father? Well, if she's been around so much, I believe it's my turn." He half turned to where Hermione stood about two meters behind him and took two steps to her but couldn't quite go further. He stretched his hand out to grab her, but mystically, his hand stopped a foot short of Hermione's arm, blocked.

Blaise stepped forward as well. The air in the room was thick for cutting and he wasn't having it in his house. "That's enough, Flint. I believe you cut your stay short. Thanks for coming, but don't come back before next year. Pucey," said Blaise, nodding toward the two men.

Flint raised himself to his full height, which made him half a head taller than Blaise, and Blaise was no small man. "You want to keep us from putting a mudblood in its right place? Hm? I'll remember your face when the time comes, Zabini."

Draco snarled as a way to regain his composure. Morgana, how was he going to get out of this without punching their faces in and embarrass himself as the only pureblood to ever brawl in public with his fists?

"Ah, our little Malfoy wants to keep his toy for himself." Flint waved a finger at him. "Well, now, you've got to learn how to share with your betters. You know why I let you on the team, don't you? There would have been a snowballs chance in hell if your Daddy hadn't stepped in. Wouldn't there, Pucey?" Pucey confirmed it with a vehement nod. Lackey, Hermione thought.

But he got to Malfoy. She knew how sensitive Draco was on that particular point and Flint abused it mercilessly. Draco was close to snapping and who knew what would happen when he lost control over the immense magic he was holding. Hermione felt his metabolic uproar, because it rattled his magic, and it clanged against the compow. When she felt an explosion building up in Draco's guts, she started reverberating in her mind, wanting him to feel it, to calm him: It's not true, Draco, you know he's lying, hell, I can see that he's lying, he was lucky to get a good seeker with new brooms and he almost pissed his pants in joy.

She must have said the last part out loud, because all heads turned to her.

"Is that true, little mudblood? You think I'm lying?" Flint jeered at her.

Oh, well. At least it took the focus of Draco for a second. Hermione squared her chin. She was not afraid. She had fought older wizards than these when she had been much younger. Would the other Slytherins join in, against her and Draco? She didn't think so. Zabini would put his foot down and Theo would certainly not fight her. "Yes, I think you are lying. I think you've been very lucky to get such an excellent seeker on your team and new brooms on top of it, for everyone. Just because he always lost to Harry doesn't mean he's no good. Your team didn't always loose, did it? And I believe that you almost sullied your pants in excitement when you heard of your luck."

For a very brief moment, Draco looked at her surprised, hearing her praise his Quidditch abilities, and she gave him an encouraging smile. But Flint made it impossible to stay poised with his next words, and the building pressure inside of Draco had not been appeased.

Flint grinned maliciously into Hermione's face: "Ah, Malfoy, defended by Potter's whore, how low can you sink? And one who can't even fly a broom and apparently has no clue what she's talking about." There were a few protesting murmurs from the crowd. Draco had been a good seeker. But the protest again was short lived because Flint stepped forward and came very close to Hermione's face in a very threatening way. This time Hermione didn't block him. There were other ways to stop him if need be. "You think he's a good flyer?"

Hermione huffed. "Yes, I absolutely think he is. Are you hard of hearing, Flint? And you should do something about your dental hygiene. A regular Scourgify for starters would do the trick. But there are also very simple things called toothbrushes." She waved her hand in the air in front of her face and wrinkled her nose.

Flint came even closer, trying to be intimidating in her face. It probably would have worked if he had a weak damsel in distress in front of him, but Hermione was anything but. She might have had a weak spot for certain Slytherins, but Flint was not one of them.

"Feisty. I like that. Reminds me of someone I had before." He paused ominously before he spoke to Draco again, not taking his gaze away from Hermione.

"You remember the little red head that we had one day? The one with the yellow sundress? Oh, she was delicious. The way she screamed." Pucey snickered at Flint's word.

Draco stiffened. If anything, Hermione felt that was even worse than the angry vibration before. It made Draco poised as if ready for a jump. Unaware of the danger he was in, Flint put one more on top and turned back to stand in front of Draco, who was still trying to keep his Slytherin cool but failed miserably. His face was a little rosy, quite different from his usually pale complexion.

"Do you know, Draco, what I would do first?"

Draco couldn't hold it back anymore. The whole memory had come flushing his mind, and with it all the sensations and emotions from that time. The screaming he heard, the stench of sweat and blood, the utter brutality he saw, the nausea he felt, the bitter taste in his mouth from his own helplessness. Helpless. He was always helpless. And a coward. He was a coward because he never fought against his helplessness. He always had to suffer one or another's whims, his father's, Voldemort's, his followers', Bellatrix'. And he had never been strong enough to fight against it. Granger was strong and brave and he couldn't be a coward. A never before felt fury came over him, over this terrible feeling of helplessness that he had always endured. It blackened out the room, this fury, and only left a focus in the middle, like a funnel. And Flint stood right in it.

Well, he wasn't helpless anymore, was he?

When he received no reaction from Malfoy, Flint searched out Draco's eyes that he had stoically kept directed on Flint in an unfocused bored way. When he caught them and had his full attention, Flint continued in a whisper that carried across the room.

"Do you remember what I did to her? This would go the same way with the mudblood. Rrrrripping." Flint enjoyed his torture. Hermione put his remarks together and felt her fingers go cold. Was he alluding to a rape he had done? And the way he was speaking, had Draco been there to either witness or be forced to participate?

Hermione could feel renewed Draco's magic clenching and vibrating around him. Draco was losing his control. Hermione stemmed her magic up against his to calm him but he didn't react. This was the first time ever her partner was so shaken up. It must have been horrible for him. She knew, raping a girl was nothing Draco would have ever done if not forced. She'd seen it in the classroom, nobody could be that good an actor, the way he had suffered knowing he would have to take a girl by force in a revel. This was something he could never find pleasure in. Unlike the sick, sadistic pig in front of him.

And then, Draco Malfoy had reached his breaking point. He snapped. With a snarl he unleashed the power given to him and without taking his wand in hand, Flint and Pucey flew across the room in a flash of blue light and against the opposing wall with an unhealthy crunch. Theo who had been close to Draco, still holding down his shoulder, flew to the side and onto his backside from the backlash and skidded a few yards backwards, hitting Zabini in the kneecaps. Zabini fell over, back into the watching crowd, but was back up in seconds.

Flint and Pucey just shook their heads and glided of the wall. They landed on their feet and drew their wands before they had hit the ground. Aimed at Draco, a double flash of red light flew toward him and impacted in a transparent but purple-bluish tinted cloud appearing around him. Flint and Pucey were a bit appalled that their jinxes hadn't made it to their intended target but they were battle proved enough to send the next ones right after. It had about the same effect. Draco caught the spells in his magic like a baseball in a pitchers glove and crushed them to energetic dust.

And then he got them back. Within split seconds, his wand finally drawn, he sent out a Levicorpus and secured the two wizards hanging in the middle of the room. But he didn't stop there. Talking about crushing, what could have been an easy end with an Expelliarmus, an Incarcerous, and a Silencio, Draco didn't want to take the easy way out. Darkness clouded his mind and with pure intention and a barely thought Opprimo he crunched Flint and Pucey as if in a full-body vice. These two wizards were the scum of the earth, the lowliest creatures imaginable, and he was going to crush them for good, like you would crush a mosquito between your thumb and fingers.

Horrified, Hermione had watched the switch in Draco. She had come to know him as a fairly controlled but passionate man. All control gone, she felt his intent through their magic, the spell building up in him. Watching him securing his opponents had been alright, she hadn't needed to interfere. But she couldn't stand by, when he was going to maim them.

"Draco, stop" she yelled.

Flint and Pucey, already red in the face from hanging upside down, started to squirm uncomfortably when the pressure built on them. They tried to free themselves or to send out some more spells at Draco, to no avail. All of them were sucked up into his magic where they disintegrated and were spat out as little flashes of light.

"Malfoy, what the fuck, are you doing? I was only joking. Get us down this instant, you bloody little bugger," Flint yelled and then screamed as the pressure increased.

Wrong. Very wrong.

"Too late, Flint," Draco whispered and increased the pressure.

Hermione sped forward as if fired from a bow. "Noooo, Draco. No."

When she reached her counterpart, she jumped against his chest. Draco Malfoy stumbled for a split second, grabbing her wrists to soften her impact, and the hanging wizards were able to take a quick breath when his concentration broke for a second, but then the pressure was back on.

"No, Draco, don't. Let them down."

She threw out an Incarcerous and an Expelliarmus backwards and grabbed Draco's hands back.

"See, they're already bound and disarmed. They can't do anything anymore. Just let them down." Their wands in their hands, her right, his left, crossed and a sizzle shot through the air.

"Granger, let me at them," Malfoy snarled at the slim girl in front of him.

"No. You can't do that. No Bellatrix. You can't injure a captured man. You are so much stronger. Be responsible."

Malfoy snarled in frustration.

"Ah, Granger, you are no fun."

Leave it to Granger to be the voice of reason. He might have actually listened to her, had not Flint in his stupidity opened his mouth again. Flint had always gotten his way. He was not going to take it lying down that the little fag Malfoy had overwhelmed him magically.

"What do you say, Pucey, should we have let Malfoy participate with the little red head? He seemed a bit young but then, maybe he wouldn't have become as faggy as he is now. A good fuck might have set him straight, perhaps?"

He was quieted by a whip of light across his face like a slap, and it left a gash. Flint howled in pain and in surprise. Pucey was prevented from answering beyond the whimpering he only did anyway, when several more flashes of spells hit them with cruel precision where it hurt the most: the face, the back of the knees and thighs, the butt, the neck, the loin. The tied up wizards howled out their pain and writhed to escape the whipping light that came back again and again, breaking first the clothes where available, and then the skin.

If the watching wizards and witches, crunched together in a far corner from the spectacle, hadn't been afraid until then, they were becoming it now. With flying light from spells they could deal, it was a part of being magical. However, the magical fireworks that followed now, they had never seen in such intensity and it was a tiny bit intimidating.

The Slytherins in the corner cowered. Bole and Derrick in an unusual show of bravery, stepped out of the crowd and slyly tried to get behind Draco's back to overwhelm him, but more flashes of light whipping at their wand hands, forcing them to drop their wands, made them mould back into the protective mass of bodies again.

"No, no, no, Draco," Hermione screeched. "Draco, don't let him rile you up like this. We knew this was going to happen at one point."

Draco breathed fire into her face. "Do you have any idea what he wants to do to you? What disgusting things go through his mind? Why won't you let me deal with him?"

Perhaps the pressure employed on him and from the blood pooling in his head or the pains from the lashes and gashes had made Flint incapable to rein in his speech centre, but speaking up again he did. Unwisely, so.

"Hey, Draco, you should have my view from here. Nice butt, she has, the mudblood. Have you tried that hole yet? Does it bloom nicely when you slap it?"

Throwing a Silencio his way, without moving her wand, Hermione screeched: "Flint, shut the fuck up if you value your soundness."

She breathed hard already from the strain to hold Malfoy back. She would have to negotiate with Draco to prevent him from doing something they would both regret, and quick. Her hands on his chest, she raised her eyebrows to him. "I can imagine what he wants to do. I don't need to know each detail. But it's not happening and you know why. Let Gallows collect them," she tried to speak calmly but it was difficult doing so while this enraged blond wizard pushed against her. Oh, gosh, it had been so much better to have him press his naked chest against hers.

"He can collect their mangled remains," Draco snarled and sent a wave of magic around Hermione. The screaming behind her put testimony to the fact that it had hit its target.

"Nooooo, Draco, stop, stop, stop, don't, don't, don't." Hermione whimpered, trying to wrestle with him. Unfortunately, a slim woman is not a match against a six foot two inch tall man, and he pushed her backwards while trying to get closer to the hanging men.

There was only one way. She had to warn him, though.

"Draco, if you don't let them go, I'm going to fight you," Hermione said with a shaky voice, tears pricking her eyes.

"You would fight me for them?" he spat. "Are you insane, Granger? This scum?"

"Even scum deserves a trial. Where would we be if we all took justice into our own hands? Wasn't Voldemort enough?"

"Get out of my way. I don't want to hurt you, Granger, but so help me, I will if you won't let me crush them to pulp. They can sentence what's left of them when I'm done," he spat again.

"Well, then." Hermione took a deep breath and without further warning threw her magic up against Draco's. The crash when they clashed shook the house and made the Slytherins in the corner sink down to their knees. While pushing against him, even fighting him for his own protection, she couldn't stop pleading, though.

"You are so much better than them. Don't, Draco, don't do anything foolish. You can never take it back. You are so much smarter, so much better, they are scum, don't put yourself on the same level, which you do when you hurt them, don't, just don't, please, Draco, please. If not for you, do it for me, please, don't kill them, please, don't maim them, please, please, please."

In an echo of what he had heard the night on the Astronomy tower in his mind, she actually pleaded with him. And it would have reached him, had he not been so enraged. That night of Dumbledore's death, he didn't want to do it, he had to. He had been desperate, he had been afraid and he had reached out to all help that came his way. He had just wanted to find a way out. Flint and Pucey, on the other hand, had taken something from him one day that he could never get back and made him feel like the lowest shite and he loathed them into deepest hell for it. And he was going to let them feel how it was, when you feel your soul crushed because you lost your innocence. If he had to get around Granger for that, so be it.

The sparkling and bristling of their colliding magics made the Weasley's fireworks look like a cheap copy. Blue and red flashes and sparks and swirls flew through the air without resistance.

"Theo, put a Protection charm over you all. This is going to get worse," Hermione yelled to the wizard who was still sitting where he had fallen, numbed from the blast. But he reacted when Hermione called to him. Crouching backward to the others, he raised his wand and erected a protection shield in front of them.

And just in time, because Hermione put pressure on Draco's forward pushing magic and unyielding as they both were, the sizzling got to the boiling point quickly. The magic swirling around them went this way and that way, trying to get around, trying to push back. Hermione tried to open her magic up again to swallow Draco's, but that wouldn't work this time. He wouldn't come. He pulled back and aimed again and collided his field against hers with another clash and explosive bang that made the witnessing crowd scream and whimper.

But Hermione had been prepared for it. So far, she had only tried to hold him back. She had tried to appeal to the conscience she knew he had. But pleading hadn't helped, so she tried something else. Whatever Flint and Pucey had done to him was enough to make him want to hurt them badly. And she couldn't allow that.

"Draco Ladon Arion Malfoy, you will step down this instant and let Law Enforcement deal with the scum. You will not be responsible for hurting them and go to Azkaban for it," she snarled at the wizard before her, while she pushed at his chest again. "Over my dead body." She screamed out her frustration at Draco's stubbornness.

He laughed in her face, the furious glimmer in his eyes beyond reason. "Make me, Granger."

Looking back at him, capturing his gaze, Hermione let her own power unfold. She would have to stop him.

"I will, Malfoy, so help me all that's holy."

And then she pushed back. She pushed her magic against his with all her might. She was equal to him, wasn't she? He couldn't push her over, couldn't he? Well, he shouldn't be able to but he was surely gaining way. Rage was a stronger motivator than worry.

The sizzling and the bristling intensified. There were more whipping flashes of light, this time against each other, without actually touching flesh. Red was pushing into blue and blue was swiping at red to get out of the way. The magic started shaking and vibrating as it had the day of the inception and many a Slytherin would have started praying if they had known how. It resembled the end of the world. They were all afraid it was going to explode and wipe them out.

Until Hermione did a side step and took the pressure off Malfoy's chest for a split second. Holding against it with all his strength, focused on getting to his goal, he stumbled and Hermione used that moment to dive her magic into his lowered defences from the side and clamp around it.

She clawed her magic over the side of his where his defence was weak because he had focused on the front. Before Draco could reorient himself, Hermione was already halfway over his energy cloud. Hooked into the side she climbed up piece by piece, panting heavily for the strain, until she had reached the summit and let her magic roll down the other side like a blanket over a rock until she had covered him whole and pushed him down. He moaned. She had him.

He tried to break free, pushing from the inside out like a bucking horse, mixing their energies, pressing into each other.

The light changed. The red and blue mixing created a serene purple. Tying Draco down magically like a captured bull by the horns, forced to his knees, the bristling lightened up once more, because he tried to get out one last time, and then subsided, when he gave up, and the light dimmed.

Draco sagged against her shoulder with another moan. Hermione caught him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and his waist, she held the man who was a head taller and much broader than she against her slim body and stroked soothingly over his back and neck.

"Granger," he whimpered.

"It's alright, Draco. I've got you."

"Don't let go," he whispered against her neck.

"I won't," she replied calmly, while turning her head and moving her lips closer to his. He lifted his head enough for her to reach them and responded to her soft touch equally. "I won't." Only she could see his weak smile.

The Slytherins in the corner, slowly realizing that the worst was over and the end of the world had not yet come, saw a strange picture of their tall poster-child Draco Malfoy being held by a much smaller muggleborn with a bushy head with unmitigated strength. Behind them, bleeding from numerous little gashes and dripping blood on the carpet, hung two wizards upside down, gagged and disarmed and bound like cured meat.

"Does that answer your question, Pansy?" Blaise spoke to his fiancée, watching his magically tied down mate across the room from him.

Pansy snorted. "She had already." Straightening up, she stroked over her ruffled hair to smooth it down. "Love," she said, "is a powerful thing."

"I quite agree," Blaise answered. "And Merlin, what power. I'll take care that it doesn't leave the room before they are ready to come out. Gawds, but she got him good. What a woman." Only then did he turn to his woman. "You alright, babe?"

Pansy sent her husband-to-be a sideways look in warning. He grinned back at her.

And although it struck midnight at that moment, and minutes later deluxe versions of Weasley's Wildfire Whizbangs started up from the neighbouring estates outside the French doors of the room, nobody was paying any attention to it. They had seen quite enough fireworks for the night. Happy New Year.

.

Hach, alright, I had a different, much lamer version of this chapter previously, the Flint and Pucey fight was in there, but much less spectacular and all the dialogues, but it was without the Granger-Malfoy altercation. And I wasn't quite satisfied with it, it didn't quite connect properly.

And then I had the idea at the beginning of the week to have Draco snapping and Hermione preventing him from actually hurting Flint and Pucey by raising her magic up against him. And I re-wrote the entire chapter. I believe this justifies your expectations better (and Artemisgodess said, they should just have a big showdown, well, this pays tribute to your suggestion), and it brings a thing in that I needed for later. You'll see. The only problem is that I have to rewrite all the other remaining chapters as well (darn) and match them to this one. And it's mighty complicated. I was as good as finished.

Well, let me know how you liked this one and of it's over the top and so on.

I'm sorry that I picked Flint and Pucey to be the bad guys. After reading "The List" by it felt wrong in a way but I needed the two guys he played Quidditch with. It took a while to change the picture in my head, it helped to actually visualize the actor who plays Flint in the movie.

You'll find out why Flint and Pucey got to Draco so badly in the next chapter, although you likely already got the idea, didn't you? Let's let them rest a little, shall we? Draco is exhausted. Sssh.