Chapter 27

Because you're all such wonderful readers, making me feel so deliciously evil with the agonized comments after that cliff hanger, I'll post the next chapter now instead of tomorrow morning. :)

Fuck.

Hermione had let her guard down since they watched the movies. She had been horrified that she had fallen asleep in front of Malfoy, but he hadn't done anything. That night and his gratitude from having the implant taken out gave her a false sense of security. She had gotten complacent. Now he was making his move.

She had been so stupid to trust him.

She flew out of the chair towards the door, but he stalked over to her, blocking her exit from the room with his arm. She tried to use her combat training, but he quickly pinned her to the wall, grabbing her arms and shoving his thigh between her legs before she could knee him in the bollocks.

Fueled purely by adrenaline, she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, wrenching her arms, trying to elbow him in the face. Her terror mounted and she tried to reach and get one of the wands out of his other hand, but he held both of her wrists easily, pushing them upwards and pinning them above her head against the wall. She strained forward to bite him, but he leaned back, just out of reach, and leered down at her.

"Want me to fuck you, Granger?"

Hermione abruptly stopped struggling and stared into Malfoy's eyes, flashing down at her. She was panting, chest heaving with the effort of trying to get away. He glanced to her breasts and then back up into her eyes, giving her a sensual smile. Immediately, the fear propelling her racing heart morphed into something else entirely and she became acutely aware of his body, his heat, and the fact that his lips were mere inches from her own. A slow, tenacious warmth started to spread between her thighs. He flexed his thigh muscle at her juncture, and she felt herself clench.

What the hell was he trying to do?

Hermione swallowed. "No," her voice trembled. She had to be firm. Whatever the hell this was, she had to end it. Now. She cleared her throat and tried again. "No, I don't." She pulled on her arms, trying to free her wrists from his relentless grip, but his fingers tightened.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow slid his thigh against her core in between her legs. Horrified, she felt a pull, a clear distinct physical tightening between her legs. He shoved their wands in his back pocket and rested his other hand on her waist, and his fingers traveled under the hem of her jumper, making her skin tingle.

He continued in a low, husky voice. "How about I bend you over your bed, rip your pants down and pound into you while you scream?"

Her nipples hardened at the imagery. Where was this even coming from? His fingers inched higher, over her rib cage. She tried again to wriggle her hands out of his grasp and failed. Taking a deep breath, she summoned the same firmness as before.

"Absolutely not." Her throat was dry, but at least her voice wasn't trembling anymore. "Let me go, Malfoy."

He lowered his face until his breath ghosted her lips. His chest pressed into her breasts. "You're terrible at lying, Granger." He rocked his pelvis into her as he spoke, and she felt how hard he was. "Lie to me," his voice was caress on her skin.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. It was a test! A test of her ability as an Occlumens and she had just failed miserably. Malfoy had been warning her repeatedly of the need to Occlude properly and was now checking on her progress.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn't look at him while she prepared herself. His thigh moved back and forth between her legs again and his fingers travelled higher towards her breast. Everywhere he touched her skin was so hot.

She whimpered but focused on clearing her mind.

Snow falling on a frozen pond. Tiny snowflakes. One snowflake hitting the ice and blending in with the others. She opened her eyes and was able to observe his intense gaze half hidden by his fringe without being affected by it. She felt her eyes glaze over slightly.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

"If I like the way you come on my cock, I'll flip you over and lick until you can't remember your own name." He licked the line along her bottom lip and bit it tenderly.

"No thanks," she answered, turning her head to the side dispassionately. Her voice sounded overly detached from herself, but she didn't let her desire affect her demeanor.

After a tense moment where his lips brushed the line of her jaw, Malfoy pulled back and released her hands. Her arms fell limply to her sides and she absently rubbed her wrists and stood up straighter, looking at him apathetically, waiting to see what he'd do next.

"Better," he commented. He looked her up and down, giving her a once over. "But you're going overboard. Like I was feeling up a victim of a botched Obliviation. You don't want anyone to know that you're actively Occluding."

Hermione nodded numbly, and rubbed her eyes with her fingers, feeling slightly groggy at the effort. "I've never practiced like that," she explained.

She could still feel the press of his chest and thigh against her, and the dull ache in her core.

The things he said.

Did he mean them?

All she could do now was imagine him doing precisely those things to her.

Merlin.

He snorted. "More likely you'd be beaten and Crucio'd while it's happening. They don't warn you and sit you down for tea."

"I'd imagine they wouldn't," she looked up into his intense grey eyes and was immediately sorry that she did. She couldn't shake the images of them having sex from her mind now, and she stared down at her hands instead.

Malfoy took her wand out of his back pocket and placed it into her palm, then summoned a scroll that appeared to arrive from the guest room and held it out to her.

"Sorry, no blood this time. Your friends will have to work harder." Hermione took the scroll without looking at him and he walked out the door. "I'll be in the loo."

Hermione sat down in her chair and unfurled the scroll, happy to have something to concentrate on to distract from the feel of Malfoy pressed against her. His thigh between her legs, his fingers achingly close to her breast. She squirmed and blinked a few times, trying to remove the memory of the heat of his body, and traced the lines that he had drawn.

MacNair Estate. The plans weren't as detailed as Nott Manor, but they did have a layout of sorts with some detail regarding the wards. Perhaps one of Kingsley's informants could supplement the information by copying whatever was on file at the Ministry again. Hermione pored over the plans, deep in thought. Once again, she had been hoping for Lestrange, but MacNair would do.

Hermione glanced at the clock and furrowed her brow. Malfoy had been in the loo for ten minutes. She shrugged and turned back to the scroll. Maybe he had some GI issue.

Whatever. Bugger him. She didn't care and didn't want to know.

She heard the bathroom door open, and he walked back into her room with a slight swagger that wasn't there before. Hermione scrutinized him and he stared right back down at her. He had a faint blush on his cheeks and tinge of elation in his eyes. Her lips parted. Did he just… He must have.

He went to the loo to wank.

Malfoy raised his eyebrow suggestively, daring her to say something. She certainly wouldn't, and turned back to study the scroll, blushing furiously.

Arsehole.

While she studied the MacNair plans, Hermione saw Malfoy out the of the corner of her eye reading one the books on her bookshelf. It was '1984.' For someone questioning the very reality of the world around him, she certainly saw the appeal, but said nothing. He wasn't shy about asking questions.

Hermione rubbed her thighs together again. He had gotten her all worked up and now she was frustrated. He could just go and wank himself whenever he wanted. She had to sit here and… And what? Masturbate later to thoughts of Malfoy? Go to Ron after this meeting? The thought of going to Ron to relieve her after Malfoy had gotten her all hot and bothered alarmed her.

That was definitely a betrayal.

"Are you going to be testing my Occlumency that way again?" Hermione's voice came out more annoyed than she intended. He was right to test her. It was his life on the line. She couldn't blame him, and testing her Occlumency that way was preferable to being on the other end of the Cruciatus Curse.

He turned to her with a smirk. "Do you want me to?"

She huffed. "No."

He gave her derisive glance showing her just how pathetic her denial was. She hoped he wouldn't just lose patience and decide to Obliviate her. Today, he certainly could have. He had to understand how hard she had been working on Occlumency. She had been undergoing months of training and her teacher was impressed with how much she'd progressed in such a short time span.

"I'm working on it. I am. It's a struggle for me. I've been clearing my mind twice a day for months to try and develop that disaffected look I see you pull so easily-" He morphed the expression on his face and she laughed, despite the mortification earlier. "Yes. That. It's like slipping on a mask."

"Not 'like.' It is a mask." Malfoy's smile broke the mask apart and her stomach flipped.

"I can do it, you saw. Even when you-" She coughed and blushed at the memory of his fingers inching upwards towards her breast. "It just takes more time and concentration for me. I'm much better than I was even a month ago."

He stared at her. "It's harder for you because it goes against your nature. You have a very expressive face."

Her heart beat faster at his observation of her, and she also felt slightly relieved. Malfoy understood. Hermione still worried that he would decide to abandon the whole arrangement and Obliviate her if she couldn't master Occlumency. For now, it seemed that wasn't a danger.

"It really does. But I'm taking it seriously."

"I don't doubt that."

"I don't want you to die any more than you do," she added.

"Now that," he drawled, "I seriously doubt."

She rested her chin in her hand and sighed. He was only half-kidding. But she was serious. "I don't. You're on the right side of this war, Malfoy. You deserve a happy life for yourself and your children as much as anyone else."

Malfoy blinked at her, pensive, as if he wasn't sure whether he believed that himself. He turned back to the book he was holding, and Hermione returned to the MacNair Estate plans. They remained in silence, the only sound the flipping of pages as he read.

"Granger?"

She glanced up waiting for him to speak, but he was still reading. After a few moments he closed the book and slid it back onto her shelf. He peered at a few more titles and then turned to her.

"Why would I think Muggles are inferior?"

Her heartbeat picked up speed again. It was one of these conversations. Malfoy was questioning everything. It was fascinating, watching his bigotry slowly break down over the course of their meetings. She noticed he had phrased his query differently this time. He didn't ask her to come up with a logical reason that made sense to her, he asked her why he thought the things he did.

She shrugged. "Obviously, you think they're inferior because they don't have magic."

It was a no brainer. He knew she would say that.

"Why don't you agree?" he countered immediately.

She answered his question with a question. "If two magical parents had a squib, would their child be less than them?"

"Yes," he answered, without thinking.

"If you had a squib, would your child be inferior to you?" Making abstract concepts personal always forced people to confront the reality of their assertions.

Malfoy was no different and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Perhaps 'inferior' is the wrong word to use."

"Then what would be the correct word?"

Malfoy bit his cheek in thought for a few moments. "It would be like being born without a limb."

"So is your one-legged child less of a person than you?"

"No, of course not."

"Are they less intelligent than you?"

He snorted in disgust. "I'd fucking hope they'd be a lot smarter."

She felt a twinge of sympathy for him again in that he became a Death Eater at such a young age. He was paying the consequences for a decision that he hadn't understood the ramifications of at the time he made it. She struggled with the desire to hug him and make things better.

"Is your one-legged child less capable than you magically?"

"Not necessarily."

"Are they…" she tried to think of a word but couldn't. "Less than you in any way?"

"They can't walk."

"So even though your child is more brilliant and more powerful than you, not being able to walk makes them less than your average wizard strolling down Diagon Alley?"

He looked to the side. "Perhaps that's not a good analogy. Wizards are more capable than Muggles. They can DO more."

"Are you sure about that? It's not wizards exploring space and they have no idea what DNA is or how to manipulate it." The elephant in the room. It was the first time they were openly discussing what he'd been doing when she wasn't there.

"But we don't need all this," he waved his hand at her books, "science and technology. Our power is innate. We don't need tools."

"What's a wand? Magical artifacts? Potions? They are tools to harness our innate magical power. Science and technology are tools to harness innate brain power."

"If Wizards wanted to explore space they could have, and we would have gone farther."

"I'm sure that's true. So why haven't we?"

Hermione had also been curious about the Wizarding world in that regard. While life was certainly comfortable, it resembled the Muggle world in the 17th century, with a few perks like water that was always safe to drink and no death from infection. Magical yes, but old fashioned. The worlds had significantly diverged, and Muggles had surpassed wizards in many areas as they were forced to struggle with problems that plagued their society. Out of necessity, Muggles discovered germ theory and then implemented that knowledge to prevent infection and water-borne contagions. Wizards had simple purification spells for that.

Malfoy's eyebrows rose in curiosity. "Are you saying our magic keeps us back?"

"Necessity is the mother of invention." She rolled the parchment with the MacNair plans and placed it on her desk. "If you're comfortable, why push for more? You already know there are many things Muggles do objectively better than Wizards. Far better."

"But wizards haven't tried."

"Does having unused potential make one inherently superior?"

He bit his lip in thought at her question. She pressed on.

"Let's say Crabbe and Goyle are secret geniuses." That earned Hermione an amused snort. "But they never studied and failed all their OWL's and spent the rest of their lives wasting their inheritance and otherwise doing absolutely nothing. Does that make them superior to someone who's not as intelligent or talented, but worked their arse off all through school to become a renowned curse breaker at Gringotts?"

"Okay, but wizards live longer. I've read in one of your books that Muggles die on average around 80 years old. Wizards live twice as long easily! And that's despite all the," he waved his hand again as he always did when referring to something vague. "Science and technology."

She shrugged. "Look at all they've accomplished despite the shorter lifespan."

Malfoy didn't say anything in reply, but surveyed her bookshelf again, as if it held the answer to his quandary.

Perhaps they should stay away from technology and where the two societies differed, what of the commonalities?

"Malfoy."

He looked up.

"Do you think Muggle music is better than Wizarding music?" His eyes flicked to her CDs.

"There's more… variety," he answered slowly. "But there's also eight billion Muggles in the world," he relayed the fact as if he still couldn't believe the sheer quantity of human beings populating the earth. "There's more talent and skill to draw from. But that's also a subjective question. Just because I happen to like Jamiroquai and The Beatles doesn't mean that Muggle music is better."

Part of Hermione wanted to laugh hysterically at the fact that the words 'Jamiroquai' and 'The Beatles' just came out of Draco Malfoy's mouth. But she had a debate to win.

"So?" Hermione countered. "If Wizards are superior, variety shouldn't matter. Wouldn't the use of magic make the music better?"

"In this case, it hasn't."

She'd take that as a victory.

"What about Muggle literature? Is it better?"

Malfoy eyes scanned her bookshelf in thought. "I wouldn't say it's better, but it's not worse. Again, there's more of it. More variety. That's a subjective question. The same argument as with music," he looked at her with a gleam in his eye. "It could be that you have piss poor taste in authors, Granger."

"You dare question my taste in books?" she asked with mock indignation.

His expression sobered, dead serious now. "I question everything."

It was true, and she respected him immensely for it. "You do."

"I don't understand Muggle art."

She furrowed her brow and watched him bend over to pull out two books from her bottom shelf. One she had purchased from a trip to the Louvre a few summers ago, the other she had purchased from the Musee d'Orsee.

"I'm hardly an expert myself. What do you mean?"

Malfoy walked over to her and opened the book from the Louvre on her desk, flipping through. She tried to ignore how close his arms were to her cheek, the blond hair of his forearm lightly ticking her skin, and observed his long fingers work through the pages, pointing as he explained.

"I understand what I see here. The paintings, the sculptures, much of it historic and it's clear how Muggles have advanced in technique over time. Exactly like the Wizarding world has."

He opened the book from the Musee d'Orsee and placed it on top of the book from the Louvre. Hermione watched the muscles of his forearms move underneath his skin as he flipped through the book.

"I don't understand this. The pictures are objectively worse. Not as detailed. Not as realistic. They require less skill. Less talent. And according to this book, these paintings were made after the ones in the other book." Malfoy pointed to a Van Gogh. "I could paint something like this if I wanted to. If Muggles are capable of painting realistic portraits and landscapes, why would they go backwards?"

Hermione understood his question and wondered what he'd have to say about more modern, abstract art. It was hard to appreciate paintings out of a book. Feeling a flash of inspiration, she looked up at him.

"How busy are you today?"

She had some time before getting back to Harry and Ron this evening to start planning the stake out of Umbridge's house, but Hermione needed her home address.

"Not very."

"Would you like to go to a Muggle art museum?"

Malfoy didn't even try to hide the delighted curiosity on his face, and she smiled warmly at him. "Just give me a minute in the loo."

She went to the bathroom, silenced the door, and sent a Patronus to Tonks. One of her Auror contacts at the Ministry could tell Kingsley they needed Umbridge's residential and ward details. She was afraid of communicating directly with him. You never knew who he was with.

Hermione exited the loo and smiled. Malfoy was already wearing her dad's leather jacket, a white T-shirt with the Manchester United logo and jeans. Damn him and those jeans.

"Let's change your T-shirt," she said with laugh.

"I didn't get it right?" he looked slightly disappointed.

She shook her head. "No, it's perfect. But we're going to London. Wearing a Manchester football logo might get you beaten up if we come across the wrong sort of blokes and they've had too much to drink."

"Muggles are as violent about their sports as wizards are, 'eh?" he observed.

"We're all the same, Malfoy."

"Huh," he said as she pointed her wand at his chest. She changed his white T-shirt to a black one with the yellow Star Wars logo on it. He looked down and grinned.

"I won't get beat up for wearing this then?"

"Maybe by the Trekkies."

"Who?"

Chapter end notes:

Kissing (or almost kissing) while testing Occlumency was inspired by a fic hardly anyone has heard of, Manacled by SenLinYu.