A/N: Before we get into this fic, I'd like to reiterate that this work is labeled with Draco and Hermione relationship. Please do not read if you do not like such a coupling, find it unrealistic, or it just triggers you in some way. There are a great many fics out there that I can recommend if you are not interested in Dramione stories. But please don't hate on the story for something that is clearly labeled within the fic.

Thanks for all the follows and comments on this. I'm so excited to show you where this goes!

Chapter 7

Amusements on Patrol

Hermione ran down the staircase double time. She was late. For Prefect patrol.

After finding an enchanted cat on her bed, a present from Malfoy, whom she named Drogon, she spent the rest of her time moving the cat into the dorm with a long outline of the rules. She guessed that there was some base line for what the cat could understand.

At first, she had been on time. The first time she left Gryffindor Tower.

But, Drogon somehow managed to escape the confines of the dormitory and the common room and snuck out into the halls after her. She noticed a white tail curled against a statue and had to turn around to deliver the cat back where it belonged.

She hated to admit it, but she loved the little thing. It was so intelligent. It just responded in ways that were human-like. However, when she'd let her stress overpower her in a moment of weakness, Drogon curled against her chest and purred loud enough to vibrate her heart. It was so adorable she couldn't return him.

Not after the way he shook his head 'no' once and she nearly peed her pants in excitement.

The fourth-floor Prefects bathroom came into view as she rounded a corner. Her pace slowed. Apology on her tongue, she discovered a troubling fact that frayed her nerves: Padma was not around. She looked down both corridors and all around. There was no sign of the Ravenclaw witch.

It was not like a Ravenclaw to be late. Especially not a prefect.

She tapped her foot impatiently, checking the time again. They should be on their rounds by now.

The castle turned dark when curfew came. Prefects and hall monitors required wands to see. It was not easy to check every nook and cranny in an ancient, huge castle in the pitch black, but they did what they could. Plenty were caught after hours.

Hermione had deducted points students for the infraction before. Even taken some from her own house! It was Fred and George who were out late, no doubt up to their mischief. She'd been embarrassed to find them yet again in trouble for something a first year understood perfectly well: stay in after curfew.

She readied herself for patrol alone when a shuffle caught her ear. It came from a blackened hall behind her.

"Lumos."

Wand at the ready, she walked toward the noise ready to reprimand anyone out after hours.

It was high, thrill, pure adrenaline. Hermione found that brilliant feeling intoxicating when it came to patrol. Some many emotions of hers were heightened. The disadvantage of some senses, mainly her sight, gave way to the strength of others which, in her mind, made her into a witchy, female version of Daredevil.

Her magic was coiled. At any moment was it ready to strike.

Just as she passed a balcony, her body was roughly grabbed and pulled into night air. Fingers clamped across her mouth. She was pinned against a body, unable to swing her arm to cast a spell. They scuffled around as she tried to rip her body out of the hold, but the person was much larger than her. Their long limbs had her beat.

Thrill and fear shot through her all at once. Everything was on high. Her will to live, her will to fight, that pounding, mind numbing, disorienting yet sharpening way her thoughts twisted in a panicked brain. It kept the fight alive. She was not done. A Muggle did not stop when they were disarmed. They just got creative.

One arm held her head steady, mouth clamped shut so shouts for help would be unheard. Smart. The other long arm reached across her chest and both her arms. It locked her in a rigid position. They were strong. Air in her lungs deflated a little from such force. The discomfort from it was momentarily distracting, the pain against her ribs a frustrating sensation to forget about, that the attacker and her were pressed together taut.

It was lost in the moment of her struggles, but she was pretty sure she felt something against her back that was very flustering. A wizard, for certain.

She managed to stomp on his feet and fall to the ground, twisting to her side and wand pointed in front of her when the hazy blue light revealed a Malfoy smirk, accompanied by the rest of him.

She groaned. "What are you doing? I'm supposed to be on patrol."

"I know," he said. "With Patil."

"I could write you up for that."

Hermione brushed off her robes. The filth of the balcony made her frustrated as she beat the fabric. Her body still felt the high, the thudding of her emotions near the peak.

"Scourify," she muttered as she fingered the flowing fabric, ensuring every morsel, crumble, and fragment fled her uniform.

After she'd done so, her thoughts started to fire again.

"Hang on," she muttered. "How did you know I was supposed to be with Padma? I only found out earlier today."

"I make a point of knowing."

Her wand jumped to his face. "What did you do to her? Did you hurt her?"

Malfoy's glare turned fatally frigid. "I told you you'd never be free of me, pet."

He started to walk away. She raced after him through the empty halls of Hogwarts. His pace was swifter. To the credit of his long legs, she worked double time to keep up.

"I call bullshit, Malfoy. You wouldn't risk expulsion by hurting someone just to get to me. That's what you've got your followers and your cats for."

"So, you got him then?" He asked.

It was a total 180-degree spin of his personality. From fatally cold to a peaked interest, change in tone and a bit of life ignited in his eye.

The years of Hogwarts had been productive. She learned a vast knowledge of just about everything they offered to teach. There were a great many things she learned out of classroom, too. One of those was that Draco Malfoy was an expressionless statue, more obsessed with his appearance and importance than his substance.

His change was not unnoticed, nor did it settle her adrenaline. Instead, it pumped harder. Sensations rose up all around her in lieu of his presence. The cool of the air as it moved very slowly through the castle, the soft hug of her cardigan under her robes, her exposed legs under her skirts and the way they rubbed together. All of it flooded her mind. She was unable to think.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Did you name him?"

He shifted the weight from his one leg to the other, bringing him closer to her body. Adrenaline coursed through every vein like a drug in bloody destruction.

"It's Drogon."

Just like that, Draco walked off again. He stalked through the corridor, stopped at the Prefect bath to inspect as one would normally do on patrol, and eventually wandered up to the next floor. Hermione followed, close to boiling the longer he ignored her.

It had to stop.

The madness he brought her, and to everyone near her, had to stop.

Hermione grabbed at his robe and pulled him to halt. "What have you done?"

He tensed under the grip. It made a shiver of fear course through her bones strong enough to drop her hand instantaneous whilst peaking the thrill even higher. The emotions so close to the surface, she wasn't certain what she'd do: curse him or respect him.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes full of menace, taking a deliberate step closer.

"What is it that you've done, Granger? That is what entertains my thoughts now. What has my little pet done to illicit such an urge out of me to never let her out of my sight? Hm?"

"I don't know what you are talking about. And you're being ridiculous. I'm not your pet." She squared her shoulders with his as a broad shield. It would end. He would see reason. "You're bored. That's all. You just want some way to stimulate yourself with a game to get back at Harry or something."

"This isn't about Potter."

"Of course, it's about Harry. It always is."

She was backed against a wall. One of his arms rested against the stone just beside her head. It trapped her in his gaze, unable to turn away from the prickling chill. Gray storms coursed through his body. His jaw was set firm.

Her body felt very much the same as his. Tense in every way.

She flinched when he raised his hand. Prepared for pain she thought of England and the good of the world, but all he did was roughly brush aside a bunch of curls.

An opening to hurt her without consequence and he'd opted not to.

As much as she fought against it because it was the disgusting white ferret that bullied her nonstop for years until he took a sudden change of heart and enslaved her instead, Hermione's heart thudded with something. It kept her tongue at bay. She wanted to know what was inside his head.

Ginny's thoughts, as absurd as they were, echoed around her mind.

"Not this time, Granger. It is about you," he said. "This is not some silly game for Potty to fret about. I imagine he has plenty of his mind at the moment. No, you are all I see. I've got big plans for you."

Plans. Plans. How Slytherin of him!

A picture of Terry entered her thoughts the next moment. He warned her of such generalizations.

Slytherin wizards were not inherently evil; she knew Malfoy was not. No matter how menacing he wanted to be, his distaste for true cruelty made her second guess his intentions. He would not kill her. Truthfully, he hadn't ever really hurt her.

She was the one who initiated their interactions previous years, and it was his tongue that worked just as fast as hers that left her feelings insulted. Insults. Words. Those were the cheapest shot he could take.

He had hexed her, once. By accident. The teeth enlarging hex was meant for Harry or Ron. She'd gotten in the way.

Hermione turned to a statue in his presence. It was a life shattering train of thought that brought her to that point about Draco Malfoy. Bonkers. No, it couldn't be.

He was not being nice to her! Malfoy was not a nice person.

Confusion pulled his face in a slight recoil. "What?"

"What did I do," she questioned, "that's made you so angry?"

"The terms," he spat swiftly back. "You broke them. Again."

Thoughts of anger were default when it came to Malfoy. They leapt up without much enticement, ready to sling a hex or whipping insult to her precious self-esteem at a moment's notice when needed. Hermione focused her mind to regroup. New information left it all a puzzle.

How? Just how?

It took her a minute to steel away the frustration to calm.

"I don't understand," she answered as calmly as possible.

"You just can't help yourself," he growled. It was angrier than he had been the moment before.

She frowned. "Honestly. I don't understand. Tell me. Just tell me what makes you so angry at me."

"You've got the nerve to see another wizard, behind my back, when I asked for nothing but one thing. No other wizards. Higgs is included in that little group, Granger." The volume of his voice made her eyes bulge. It was supposed to be quiet after curfew. With their luck, a professor would come investigate and find them. "Can't you see I'm much better than him?"

His face was so close. The emotion pouring off his flesh was palpable. She felt the bruise of his ego in his expression. It was not angry; it was insult.

He was jealous that she actually liked Terry. Not him.

Her jaw dropped.

"I didn't know," she breathed.

"Don't make me feel like this again," he said just as softly as she.

Before she understood, his lips pressed against hers.

Her wand dropped from her hand as Malfoy's lips brought warmth to her entire face, alive with tingles, like a thousand small fireworks exploded through her flesh. It felt like nothing before. The connection grew firmer. Her eyes shuttered close in complete awe. It didn't matter that she was pressed hard against a cold stone wall in the middle of the night when other things required her.

A party of shimmering lights danced behind closed lips as she pictured his lips against hers, a flash of his pale torso stretched against her length in teasing excitement as the look of complete jealousy overtook him.

He'd been jealous. Jealous of her attention.

A deep-stirred tension grew in her belly. It sucked all her thoughts. She felt hot, juicy spasms course through her body like a tidal wave of delight, not unlike rage, but as it met her chest with caressing touch, she felt her nipples raise in response. Her cheeks heated; she was aroused.

Need flew from his parted lips into hers. The slippery, wet feeling of his tongue at her entrance, ready to explore parts left exiled and forgotten.

For a moment, she considered it. But it was a moment too long.

A booming clatter shook the ceiling above their heads. They retracted from their kiss in gasping breaths and stared.

It was a surreal. She questioned whether it was real, until the noise happened again.

Hermione grabbed her wand, dropped all thoughts of Malfoy and headed toward the stairs to catch whomever was out of bed. She believed she the only one, until Draco brushed against her on the way. He had his wand in his hand, not firmly gripped. Rather, it dangled from his fingers.

"Probably just Peeves," he said.

It was. He'd brought down the entire trophy room. Every brass, gold, and silver trophy given to Hogwarts was on the floor.

The ghost was giddily happy with his mischief. Especially when the caretaker, an old man named Filch, came across the mess and accused Hermione and Draco of creating it as a prank.

Draco was not in the mood to deal with the man. "We're prefects, you cretin."

Filch was a filthy, foul-mouthed man. He detested students in a curious manner considering his position at a school. The man was unable to wield magic. A Squib. It made him fouler to those who used magic to create damage he was expected to repair without.

He was Fred and George's favorite staff member to taunt. They took advantage of the opportunity whenever possible, which made Filch even more foul toward Gryffindors.

Although the man was still suspicious, Professor Snape came to confirm, a great annoyance by the way his face twisted into a scowl when he saw the two, that Draco and Hermione were, indeed, prefects (he did not trust their badges not being stolen). He stood in the face of Filch's grumbling about the mess, pesky children making messes for him, and the like.

A simple wave of the room levitated the trophies all to their assigned perches. Snape was tired with the interaction. He appeased the caretaker so he might scurry off to his other business, which is what he did.

It was Snape's turn to take interest in the two found as the scene of the crime.

"Mister Malfoy. I am surprised to see you on Gryffindor's week of patrol," he drawled in his low, monotone voice. "Mister Weasley indisposed?"

"No, sir. Padma was," Hermione answered.

He snapped attention to the little Gryffindor with irritation clouding his eyes. "Miss Granger. Everyone's favorite prefect. Though I'd expect a Prefect to know better than interrupt a private conversation."

Snape regarded her a moment longer then turned to Draco.

"Miss Patil?" He echoed.

"The Ravenclaw fell suddenly ill," Draco smirked. "I took her place."

"Sudden, indeed. Why, I just saw Miss Patil this afternoon." The professor raised a dense brow. "She was the model of health."

Hermione felt coldness take her.

She had seen Padma. The witch had been normal then, too.

Malfoy did something. Something, bad.

Her jaw clicked shut as Draco conversed with the professor a bit longer before he bored of the conversation and sent them on their way to check the castle. Her body was a space heater turned furnace when the wizard had the gall to ask her about her studies in good spirit.

Only friends could do that.

They kept their wands drawn as they traipsed through the blackened halls. The light of their combined Lumos was enough to ignite a great portion of space in front of them.

"My potions essay? That's what you want to talk about?" Her knuckles turned white against the walnut wood of her wand. Cramps sprang up toward her wrists.

He snarled but quieted a second later. "Fine. What would you rather discuss?"

"What you've done to Padma!" She exclaimed, turning her wand on him. "Did you hurt her?"

Draco rolled his eyes and swatted the light from his face. "Don't be thick, pet. Even I know my limits."

"Do you?" She growled.

Limits? Limits. He'd blackmailed her and hexed Harry loads of times. He played dirty in Quidditch. He bullied those younger or weaker than him. There was no limit to which he wouldn't stoop.

"I convinced the witch to switch with me, that's all." He clicked his tongue in correction. It felt a laugh at her. She was losing her marbles, slowly and painfully, until reality would be nothing but an apparition in her mind. Draco pointed his wand into a cranny that held a hidden alcove. "Quidditch starts next week. I want to be well-rested. Or so I said."

"So you lied."

"A shock it must be to you, Granger, but no. Not technically." He brushed a cobweb off his collar. "Matches do start next week. I'm just not as worried about my rest schedule as I led her to believe. Speaking of Quidditch, I expect you to attend."

The way he emphasized it made it a request, not a simple little remark. He wanted her there. To watch. Him? Or Slytherin? It didn't matter.

"But…you told Professor Snape that she got sick."

"Come on, Granger. You aren't entirely honest with all your professors, are you?" His eyes scanned her face before rolling dramatically. "Course you are," he sighed. "Snape would have had my hide for just simply asking to switch."

They went back to patrolling in total silence. It came to mind that she should try to work quicker than him so that they might separate, but he was just as fast as her.

It made things intense. They'd kissed. Malfoy and she! No one would believe it.

Hermione swallowed a bit of suspicion in that thought. If no one believed it, there was no way to confirm it was real. Another level of disbelief topped with question. What was the point of the game other than to drive her mad?

Is that what he hoped for? Harry depended on her for much. A broken friend was not such an asset to possess during a war. More a liability.

A nearby secret passageway was patrolled very frequently by Filch, but she decided to check it out herself. It was dank. The very air was a breath of mold. She fought through the cobwebs and slippery stones until she was satisfied that no one had entered in a long while.

Draco and she continued their patrol in silence until early hours came and their replacement took over. Professor Filtwick thanked them for their service, waved them away with his wand and skipped on his way back to patrol.

They walked back to the dormitories, still in eerie quiet, until two little figures appeared in their path.

"Drogon!" She gasped when she spied the pale creature seated in the center of the corridor.

The other cat meowed and rushed to greet her owner, Draco. She brushed against his pants legs. Long brown hairs deposited against his slacks to his irritation.

Hermione giggled as he tried to get the cat away from his slacks. "Looks like she's warmed up to you."

"It took her a minute," he answered.

Khaleesi was a mess of brown hair. No matter how many times he vanquished the evidence of her, they reappeared the next second when she'd flick her tail or rub against him with joy.

It was more endearing when he pointed his wand at her to reprimand her with a stern voice. Her little paws swung at the wood like it was a game, not concerned in the least.

Hermione bit back her smile.

Drogon was more collected. He approached Hermione at his leisure. He would then sit and wait for his affection with patience. The otherwise large eyes turned into crescent moons when she scratched behind his head.

She glanced back at Draco and Khaleesi. He finally relented to her overflowing affection to his clothing.

"Why did you buy them?" She asked. "What is their purpose?"

He cleared his throat. "Well the plan was for one. One cat that would go between the pair of us. So that I might be able to keep tabs on you when you were out of reach."

She sighed. Drogon was a spy. Like Crabbe and Goyle, her followers.

"This game of yours isn't going to work," Hermione stated softly. "You can't possibly stalk me all year long. It will lose its appeal once you realize that all I do is study and go to class. There are no secrets to learn. No business that might help you. Nothing."

Drogon led the way back to Gryffindor Tower, as Draco and Khaleesi followed behind alongside one another. She wondered in Draco had given the cat instructions before gifting him.

Enchanted cats were vastly unstudied. The limit of their understanding was not known. Could a cat be a double agent?

"We'll see," was his only answer.

It was a quiet walk until the junction of where they parted. Hermione went up, Draco was expected down. Slytherin stayed in the dungeons.

His pace slowed as he realized it.

Drogon had gone up a few stairs, waiting his master to follow, while Khaleesi remained right at Draco's side. They were complete opposite personalities. One reserved, one outgoing and playful.

Hermione refused to ask for Draco's permission to leave. It was not right.

She was not his pet.

Hermione felt a hand stop her before the first step.

"Remember the terms, pet." Draco was surprisingly close again. His chest was up against her back. "Stay away from Higgs."

Tension filled the air. It felt just as it had when they kissed.

Breath caught in her chest, refusal of oxygen until the moment passed. She struggled to mouth out any response. She nodded.

Wizards. She didn't need any wizards. There were plenty in her life already. It was not an agreement if she did it on her own. Of course, it was only a suggestion from Malfoy. She was at liberty to choose otherwise.

"Drogon, make sure she makes it to her bed safely."

The white cat remained motionless, so much so that it would easily pass as a plush toy. The only indication it gave was the occasional blink.

Drogon blinked slowly, turned around and hopped up the next two steps.

He was a gift for her. Not Draco. Draco's cat was Khaleesi.

If he thought he could just command her cat, she'd do the same.

"And be sure to mark all his clothes, Khaleesi. Make sure everyone knows he's your owner."