Whew. I edited this chapter muuuuultiple times before I was happy with it. This is the beginning of something exciting, folks! Please please please tell me how you like it in the comments or by messaging me.

Chapter 4

Light was spilling through the windows of the library. She walked over to her favourite corner window seat and looked out at the guests below. It was the same view that had set her and Tullia to plotting so many years ago.

"We should be alone up here. And we can keep an eye on the party at the same time." She spotted her parents engrossed in conversation with the Notts.

"You're the worst rule-breaker I have ever met," Draco chastised. He stood in the centre of the room and looked around curiously. "Why are you so afraid of getting caught? What would they even do? Lay on the passive-aggressive guilt trip? Confine you to your palatial bedroom suite?"

Astoria pulled one of the curtains to partially block the view and turned back to scowl at him. "If they 'catch me' here in the library, then I can say I was giving you a tour of the manor's collection. Plausible deniability." She turned to face him. "I won't apologize for having a back-up plan."

"You think too much," he said in reply.

"Are you opposed to logical thought?" she retorted. But he's not wrong, a voice in her head whispered.

He meandered over to one of the wingback chairs by the fireplace and perched on its arm. "There's a time and a place for it. You'll never be much of a rebel if you aren't willing to leap without looking, with no back-up plans or ways to reverse it. That blue hair for example." He gestured vaguely at her head. "Changing your hair is barely a rebellion. And then you fall right back in line when your mother snaps her fingers. When was the last time you took a real, uncalculated risk?"

He was definitely getting under her skin. What had her mother said earlier? Merlin forbid you do something without a five-point argument as to why. Even her mother agreed with Draco. What a thought.

So she threw her hands up in defeat. "You win. I'm wrong, you're right. Thought is overrated. To hell with it all."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "To repeat your earlier words, what does 'to hell with it' even mean?"

Here goes nothing, she thought. She walked towards him, not stopping until she was between his spread legs. She was so close that she could feel the heat from his thighs. His hair smells like cedarwood, she thought distractedly.

"Show me how to be a proper rebel. Since you seem to be such an expert on the subject."

Draco's eyes flashed. "The little mouse is issuing commands." One of his hands clasped around Astoria's wrist and pulled her incrementally closer. He was tantalizingly hard against her centre.

"You want to play with fire, do you? Questions and Commands?" The words were quiet, dangerous even.

She'd heard of the game, but never played it. It had been something the more popular students at Hogwarts did after smuggling in firewhisky and getting pissed. She'd always been too afraid to put herself in a situation where people might ask her questions. Or get herself in situations that she couldn't get out of easily.

Was she serious about crossing lines? Did she want to get to know Draco Malfoy better? Or, ultimately, get to know herself better? Was she overthinking this, like she did absolutely everything else in her life?

"Yes," she heard herself say. "To hell with it."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Excellent. My turn now. Question or Command, Astoria."

Astoria blinked and pulled back a little. She refused to lose a battle of wits with Draco Malfoy.

"How do you figure it's your turn? I just answered a question."

Draco's smirk was back in full force. "You commanded me to show you how to be a proper rebel. Both questions I asked were to clarify the command. So now it's my turn."

Astoria eyed him suspiciously.

"That's disturbingly logical of you."

"So incredulous. Ravenclaws don't have the monopoly on logic, you know. You have to know the rules before you can break them. Or bend them, or dodge them. So I ask again," he said, his hand slowly creeping up her arm, making the hair stand on end as it travelled. "Question or Command?"

It was hard to think with the electrical current of his touch running through her. "Command."

"Take off your pants and give them to me."

"I beg your pardon, my pants?" She was sure she was gaping like a fish. Again. What had she got herself into?

"Yes, your pants. Unless you would prefer I take them off for you?"

What would he possibly want them for, other than just to get a rise out of her? She would refuse to rise to such bait. If she gave them to him, when would she get them back? Astoria did not relish the thought of having to rejoin the party without undergarments.

"Fine," she spat, irritated at her own timidity. They're just pants, right? Babbity Rabbity and broomsticks, I'm probably going to regret this. But the grin spreading across Malfoy's face made her brave. He didn't think she'd do it.

She took a few steps back from him, her eyes never leaving his. Somehow, she managed to get her hands up the back of her skirt without revealing anything in the front. Her heart beat a rapid staccato. Pouring every effort into looking graceful, or at least not clumsy, Astoria slid the simple cotton undergarment down her legs and stepped out of it. Eyes still on him, she straightened up again and passed over her knickers.

Mischief accomplished, she thought with a touch of pride. As he plucked them from her hand, she couldn't help ask. "What are you going to do with them exactly?"

Draco didn't answer with words. Instead, he pulled his wand out and vanished them. She couldn't help it, she openly gaped in surprise.

"I'm now going to be uncharacteristically lenient and pretend that that question was not your turn. This is obviously your first time playing this game, and it's just too easy to take advantage of your ignorance."

Obviously my first time, my foot. He's trying to rile me up. Determined to regain some footing, Astoria straightened up primly and walked over to the near (but safely distanced) chesterfield. She took her time sitting, rearranging her dress across the tufted cushions as if settling in for high tea. He watched her patiently and wordlessly, shifting to sit fully in the chair.

"Very well," she said when she had dragged it out long enough. "Question or Command?"

He didn't hesitate. "Question."

She could ask him anything. Anything. His answer might even be true, provided he honoured the rules of the game. She weighed her options. It was too soon to ask anything about the war or Hogwarts. Asking a stupidly simple question like 'what's your favourite colour' might get him to laugh and tease her for being simple (she did like hearing him laugh), but that felt too much like something Daphne would do.

"What's the most precious object you own? It has to belong to you, not your family."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "The most precious object I own."

"That's what I said."

"That's not a horrible question."

Astoria leaned forward, supporting her chin on her palm. "I tend to catch on quickly."

Draco hummed and hawed, sprawling his legs out and generally looking very at home. His fingers were steepled, and he tapped them together as he thought.

"My broom."

Whatever Astoria was expecting, it was not that.

"Your broom? Out of everything you own?" She made no move to hide her scepticism.

He shrugged. "What can I say? I like to fly."

Astoria shook her head in disbelief. "You're really that serious about playing Quidditch."

"I am. Ready for your turn?"

"As ready as one can be for this game." Her voice was a little sharp with irony. It was somewhat shocking to her how quickly she had dropped her polite, filtered demeanour around him.

"Excellent. Question or Command?"

She was tempted to choose Question. But then he would be able to ask her anything, and she wasn't sure she could say no. Or lie. Or want to lie.

"What happens if you ask me a question that I don't want to answer?"

"You read all your textbooks before you even got to class, didn't you?" He shook his head amusedly. "You can switch to a Command. And vice versa. If you refuse to do either… well, that's when the rules get a bit fuzzier."

"If I can switch out, then I choose Question."

Draco took his time. She watched him thinking, wondering where his mind was going. He looked so at home in her library, reclining in the tall leather wingback as confidently as Daphne had presided from her throne on the patio. Arrogance, confidence… two sides of the same sickle really.

"What are you most afraid of?"

She had never had to face a boggart, thank the stars. Boggarts were usually a third-year subject of study, and she'd had the incompetent Professor Umbridge that year. What was her greatest fear? She wasn't afraid of dying; she'd come to terms with her inevitable end long ago, and it didn't scare her any more. She'd often feared letting her family down, but it didn't really paralyze her. Thinking about her family, though, and about her earlier conversation with Neville, a lead fist clenched her belly.

"I'm afraid that my life will be meaningless. That I'll miss the opportunity to make a difference… make it worth something. Anything, really." She spoke uncommonly softly, as if to somehow lessen the force of the words by lowering the volume.

Draco was looking at her carefully, his expression carefully arranged to express nothing. She suddenly realized that he had probably asked that question as preparation for a future Command. This game teaches you as much about the person thinking up the questions or commands as it does the person answering them.

"Right." She broke the silence. "That was hardly a rebellious answer, I know. Forget I brought it up. It's my turn now. Question or Command?"

"Command."

She tapped her finger to her lips in thought. What could she ask him to do that would reveal something about him? Something she didn't already know? It made her realize how little she knew about Draco Malfoy beyond his reputation at Hogwarts. Was he more than just a privileged scion? Were the rumours of his being a Death Eater true? If so, she imagined there was very little he hadn't already done. What could she possibly ask him that would reveal anything? Or should she just abuse her power over him and make him do something foolish?

Draco interrupted her thoughts. "Stop overthinking it. Just say what comes to mind."

She scowled. Of course she had been overthinking things. She overthought everything. It bothered her that this prat knew her so well, so quickly. He'd pushed all her buttons since he'd come up to her talking to Neville. Then he'd stroked her hair and she'd followed him like a puppy.

Her hair.

"Cut or dye your hair in a drastic way," she commanded.

Draco's face was a blank page. She had him!

"Oh, come now Draco, it isn't that big a deal. Changing your hair is barely a rebellion, isn't that what you just said?" His face twisted into a scowl, and she wanted to whoop in triumph.

"I suppose you want me to do this right now," he said tightly, as though he was forcing the words out. Astoria was quick to notice that he'd phrased the statement so as not to be an unintended question. I wonder how many times he's played this game before.

"I know it's painfully obviously that it's my first time playing this game, but from what I understand, Commands need to be done immediately for the game to continue. You can correct me if I'm mistaken." Draco wasn't the only one carefully choosing his phrasing.

"I choose a Question instead, then." He was… sulking? He was actually sulking! What's next, him rolling his eyes and saying things aren't fair?

"Draco Malfoy, you are not the rebel you advertise to be." She clucked her tongue disappointedly.

His eyes flashed. "I am not going to disgrace my family's already-tenuous social standing by garnering unnecessary attention at some ridiculous garden party." His voice was controlled, but she could tell he was livid. Aha, a peek behind the curtain at last. And she understood, at last. Draco was as motivated as she was to avoid attention. He would know exactly what it was like to fear that people were talking about you while your back was turned, or gossiping freely about every action you took, every word you uttered.

She suddenly saw her blue hair for the sullen, insignificant resistance that it was. No one besides her parents was going to notice or care if the young Greengrass girl changed her hair. With a little more sympathy now, she smiled at him, trying to convey without words that she understood what he was saying.

"That's a fair point. So I suppose I had best ask you a question now." Draco's tightly controlled expression loosened. She had intentionally used his own non-question wording, and he'd noticed. She'd hoped he would.

"Yes, you best get on with it."

"Why did you take my pants?"

She had wanted to ask him that question right away, but didn't dare give him the reaction he'd been seeking. She suspected that he'd used the Command before, but for what purpose she wasn't sure. And unanswered questions didn't sit well with the curious Astoria Greengrass.

"To make you uncomfortable," he replied easily. "And to test your commitment. You didn't react the way most do." He sounded confused, maybe even annoyed? As if her lack of reaction was a personal slight.

"And how have others reacted?" He was watching her carefully, and she thought he would call her out on her second question. Instead, he continued to talk.

"Most girls get giggly and randy, or they get uncomfortable and sullen. Either way, it tends to shift the balance of the game in my favour. But you… you followed the command, settled into that sofa as if nothing had happened, and then asked me a rational, interesting question. That tells me you're used to unreasonable, uncomfortable requests and commands." He was careful not to have formed it as a question, but Astoria could tell he was watching for some sort of answer. She was more determined than ever to show no reaction.

He watched here for a full minute of silence before speaking. "Question or Command."

Astoria bit her lip. There was no right choice. At least Draco had been the first to pass on a question; she had her pride, after all. "Question."

"How did you react to it?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You put on a confident face and pulled an interesting question from out of nowhere. You obviously haven't played much before, because you don't really know the rules. So now I'm curious, what were you thinking when I asked for your pants? Appalled? Aroused? Confused? Amused?"

He was asking her how she felt about his vanishing her knickers. She had been granted a reprieve from revealing anything too secret. And his asking the question meant he was curious about her. That she wasn't as easy to read as she'd feared. Well, what do you know. I've turned the tables on Draco Malfoy.

What could it hurt to tell the truth? She threw her mind back to the particular moment.

"Initially… nervous, I suppose. Then irritated at myself for being nervous. Suspicious as to why you would even want them, but also… aroused by the same thought. A little angry when you vanished them. Currently, I'm fairly annoyed because I'll likely have to return to the party pantless."

"Unless I give them back."

"Unless you give them back." She eyed him closely. He had his mask back on again and in a weird way, Astoria felt like she'd earned a little bit of control. If he was worried about showing his emotions, it meant she was getting to him.

"Are you going to give them back?" She asked before remembering the loophole.

"I haven't decided yet," he said, his eyes dancing. "Thank you for that easy question. My turn."

"Bollocks," Astoria muttered. She wanted to slap that cocky grin off of Draco's face, but it wasn't like she didn't know the rules. It also sent a pleasant hum through her every time he smiled. Cocky or not. "Fine. Command."

Draco straightened up in his chair. "Come here," he told her and extended a hand, beckoning.

She wasn't sure she liked being beckoned, but for once, she didn't overthink it; she just rose up off the sofa and moved towards him. Once she was in arm's reach, Draco slid forward in the deep seat and pulled her towards him, palms gripping her legs just above her knees. He kept his knees pressed together, so she was forced to straddle his legs to get closer. She was feeling too close, too warm, and too exposed with no knickers.

"And tell me when you stop thinking." His right hand disappeared under her dress, running up the top of her thigh to find nothing but smooth skin at her hip and waist. Her heart stopped in her chest.

"That's… two commands," she managed. How was there not enough air in this massive room?

"'Come here and tell me when you stop thinking' is a single sentence. I would have thought a Ravenclaw such as yourself would appreciate grammatical accuracy more." His voice was measured and neutral, but there was something dangerous beneath it all.

She wanted to argue the point, to keep bantering lightly, but her mind couldn't break away from the exploring hand up her robes. It was inching closer and closer to where her thighs met until…

He slid one finger into her slowly, and she bit her lips to hold back a little moan.

"Excited, are we?" he whispered. She was embarrassingly wet. She couldn't think of a time before meeting Draco in that club when she'd been aroused simply by being in the presence of someone. But it felt so good… better than good. It felt exciting, and reckless, and it made all the thoughts in her noisy head go silent. She closed her eyes and relented.

"It's working," she breathed. "It's getting harder to think… oh!" She yelped, as he had skipped two fingers and gone straight to three. They pressed against her sensitive, throbbing walls. Godric, she felt so full.

"We've barely even started," he promised.

The thumb from his other hand brushed over her her most sensitive nub. She inhaled violently and practically purred on the exhale. He was barely moving it, almost more pressing than rubbing. His fingers on her, in her… it felt like he was casting a charm on her. Her head was now filled only with the sound of her hard breathing; all other thoughts had scarpered. She leaned forward grabbed on to the wings of the armchair as her knees started to shake.

"You're putting on quite a show for me, Miss Greengrass." Draco sounded amused, but there was a huskiness to his voice that made her insides tighten even further.

She opened her eyes to look at him. His grey eyes were dark again, excitingly so. They were openly raking over her chest, her neck, her waist. Emboldened by their naked need, she climbed onto the chair to be closer to him. She wanted to feel his hardness below her. He withdrew his hands and shifted deeper into the chair. His hands cupped her buttocks and yanked her closer. A panicked thought broke through the fog of her mind; she glanced towards the door.

"What happens if someone walks in?"

Draco didn't even look up at her. "No back up plans now, Astoria. If we get caught, we get caught."

Her heart skipped a beat, and a flush flooded through her. If anyone walked in, she could think of no carefully constructed cover story to explain why she was riding Draco in the library armchair with his hands up her dress.

"It's more exciting this way, isn't it?" He whispered and then nipped her collarbone with his teeth. She let out a cross between a hum and a moan.

Merlin, he was so hard beneath her. She ground against him, climbing up towards climax with the blessed friction of his expensive linen against her. The vulgarity of it all - her thrusting rhythm against him, the both of them panting, his hands gripping her backside possessively - it all seemed so wrong, so disgraceful. She'd never felt more reckless in her life. All the motions and the emotions and the careless pleasure came together in an explosion of sensation, and she came hard. Uncontrollable undulations racked her core, causing shudder after shudder of delicious electricity to flood through her. Finally, she slumped forward.

Draco held her closely, until she stirred. Things had become still and quiet again. Well, somewhat quiet. Now that her brain was alert again, she realized that the noises of the party below were audible. Very audible.

Holy Helga Hufflepuff, what if they heard me?!

She didn't even realize she was glancing fearfully at the windows until she felt Draco's fingers slowly pulling her chin back to face him.

"You're thinking again. Tell me what you're thinking."

She met his grey eyes and blinked. "It isn't your turn," she said automatically. As she shifted, she felt him still hard beneath her.

Draco removed his hands from under her dress and smoothed down the grey material. "It is, actually. You asked me 'What happens if someone walks in?' But I suppose that your lack of memory is proof of you following my command to the fullest." He smirked.

Oh that bloody smirk. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much. Maybe because it was combined with the truth of the statement, that she had indeed stopped thinking.

Unsettled, she climbed off him and perched on the edge of the chesterfield facing him.

"I was worrying that someone might have heard me," she confessed.

"It's very possible," he said. "You weren't quiet."

Her jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"Is that another question, Astoria?"

She shut her mouth, fuming. She was losing all of the upper hand that she thought she'd earned.

"It's probably time to rejoin them anyways," he continued. "Though I'll need another minute or so." He looked down as he readjusted his robes and suddenly swore. Astoria looked to see some faint spots on his linen where her wetness had marked him.

"Oops." She couldn't hold the giggle back. It made no sense for her to be amused at such a vulgar act… but she was inexplicably proud of herself.

"That's all you have to say, oops?" He didn't sound like he was nearly as impressed by it as Astoria, but it wasn't anything a Scourgify couldn't fix… unless...

A devilish idea sprang into her mind as he reached for his wand.

"Still that wand arm, Draco. Question or Command?" His wand stopped.

"Let me deal with this first, Astoria." He watched her suspiciously. She put her hand over his wand hand.

"My turn for Commands, Draco." Her eyes were flashing with mischief now.

"I'm very tempted to say Question right now."

Astoria ignored him. She could tell he was curious to know what she had in mind. "I command you not to Scourgify it. Return to the party like that."

Draco's eyes bugged out a bit in shock. "You're taking the piss."

"Not at all. Of course, you don't have to tell anyone what it really is. Say your ice cream dripped. Or you were clumsy with the lobster salad. But leave it marked until you get home."

Draco shook his head disbelievingly. And was that just a hint of respect she saw? "I think I have severely underestimated your level of commitment to this game."

Astoria rested her cheek on her fist. "I get underestimated a lot."

"I bet you do." Draco sighed in resignation and put his wand back down. "Alright, I'll leave it. And since I still need a minute to return to a socially-acceptable state, we'll end with your turn. Question or Command, Astoria."

She took a moment to think about it. After all, when was this going to happen again? Two impassioned trysts does not a relationship make. So she answered in the hopes of drawing him out.

"Question."

Draco smiled like he had expected the answer.

"Do you ever get out to London?"

Astoria frowned. How disappointing. "Occasionally. That's a fairly unrebellious question."

He didn't respond right away. In fact, he looked around the library distractedly before answering. "I've been living in my family's townhouse there. The Malfoys have a place in Mayfair. It's not the Manor, but it's sufficient." He sounded bored and pretentious, but he was refusing to look at her. She was starting to suspect that Draco's most arrogant idiosyncracies were all just masks for deeper emotion. Malfoy Manor had been, from what she heard, Death Eater central during Voldemort's rise to power. She couldn't even imagine what Draco had witnessed happening in his childhood home. Sufficient indeed, she thought.

"Mayfair is a lovely part of the city," she said neutrally.

"It's… central. I have to spend a lot of time at St. Mungo's now." He shifted uncomfortably. Astoria had never seen him look this evasive. "Because of my Sentencing of volunteer service there."

"Of course," she replied. She'd remembered the sentencing - it had been all over the Prophet - but she hadn't really thought about how often Draco was at the hospital. It was a wonder - and a blessing - that she hadn't seen him there before.

"Come visit me there." He finally looked at her. Even though it had been phrased as a command, Astoria had heard the uncertainty in it.

"I would love to." She rose up off the sofa and extended her hand to Draco to lead him out of the library. He stretched out his own hand and interlocked his fingers with hers. Even just that small embrace of fingers felt exciting.

He smiled. "I'll send an owl."