CHAPTER 8

Back to school, middle of January 1998

Draco didn't bring it up to anyone, but of course it was only a matter of a few hours after returning to school that Zabini was interested in the progress of the deal made.

Draco drank slowly from his goblet of pumpkin juice, savoring the way Zabini practically frothed at the mouth in anticipation. He set down his cup, then slowly turned to his friend, expressionless. This part of the bet was no longer fun to him.

"Progress has been made."

"How so?"

"We snogged."

Zabini blinked.

"On the motherfucking desk," Draco added.

Zabini's eye twitched, as if he was prevented from blinking before his eyes bugged out. "Horizontally? You snogged-and horizontally?"

"Does it matter?"

"It's gonna take you the whole year."

"And it's gonna be a sweet fucking victory, my friend."

Draco let his eyes wander over to the Gryffindor table, where his eyes immediately landed on the subject of their conversation. She seemed distracted, half-listening to something someone was saying, as she turned an apple in her hands. Staring off into space, Granger took a bite of said apple. Then, she did the most peculiar thing-she looked up and met Draco's eyes.

His eyes darted away as fast as hers did, but once he could confirm she wasn't looking anymore, he covered his mouth with his sleeve and smiled, only a short one to allow for time, to maintain his couldn't-care-less appearance.

His elaborate conditioning scheme was working.

.*.*.

Hermione walked into Advanced Runes, a brand new semester. Some of her hours had changed, which was normally not a problem for her (she was a good student no matter what time of day), but after stepping foot into the classroom she realized that there was something very, very different about this particular hour of this particular schedule.

First it was a feeling, then it was the recognition of what had to have caused that feeling. Her gaze landed on a familiar blond sitting at the front of the classroom. In her usual seat area of the class. Irritating, but luckily for her, there was a seat free right behind it.

Normally it would bother her having to sit behind an idiot in classes, but this provided her a glorious opportunity to torment the Slytherin in the arena they first competed in: academics. This was her time to answer every question correctly, right in his ear, right where he would have to turn around to look at her genius-

"How fascinating, Granger," said Malfoy, leaning an arm on the back of his seat as she approached. "We have a class together this term. I haven't seen you in action in a classroom since 5th year."

"We've been lucky to avoid each other in this capacity for this long," she said, sitting herself down.

"I hope having a class together doesn't change our working relationship."

Relationship? Hermione rolled her eyes. The professor called the class to order, walking to the front of the room to take seating chart notes. Malfoy, with a look, turned around in his seat. Hermione chewed her lip to hide a grin.

.*.*.

Another week flew by, with not much of note taking place. Paperwork, procrastination on planning the Spring Ball, and more dancing around each other. Hermione was still upset about Draco's last minute halting of their snog session, and Draco was equally peeved at Hermione's peacocking in their shared Runes class, which met three times a week.

It was unfortunate that he was going to have to deal with Granger's smart-kid attitude in the classroom setting again, but overall, he deemed that this could strategically be quite beneficial for him. There were multiple ways he could use Granger's competitiveness to his advantage. It might include some cuts to his own ego, but he had bigger gains to accomplish.

One night, it ended up being the perfect excuse to grab her attention. And not in the office, where there was paperwork and a quiet nagging in his head. No, he needed to be in his element. He needed to get her there, too.

"Granger?" he called out from his doorframe.

"What?" she snipped from the Common Room, poking her head into the hallway after he didn't answer for a few seconds. "What do you want?"

"As much as it pains me to admit it, I need… help."

"You what?" Draco could practically see her salivating at the thought. He fought back a roll of his eyes and instead playacted sheepishness.

"I need you to take a look at something for me," he grumbled, looking down.

"What kind of thing?" she asked warily.

"Will you just stop asking questions?" Draco huffed, gesturing with a nod of his head for her to follow him. She hesitated, but took the steps forward until she was standing at the doorframe of his bedroom. He stepped inside, pointing to the Runes book on his pristinely made bed.

Draco watched Hermione look around innocently, taking in his room. His decor was sparse, but high-quality. She traced her eyes along the silver and dark green Slytherin tapestry on the far wall. Draco observed, pleased, as Hermione lifted a finger to poke at the bowl of apple candies he had left atop the mahogany dresser.

"Take one, if you want," he prompted.

She cautiously grabbed one and popped it into her mouth. "Um, what did you need?" she asked, still hovering near the door. He could tell she was a bit uncomfortable. She had never been here before. He always kept the door closed, and they had never made it this far.

Draco patted the bed next to him. Chewing on her lip, Granger stepped a bit farther forward to stand next to him. "Runes?"

"I can't figure out this one Rune," Draco feigned, pointing to his parchment tucked gently into the pages. "I've solved nearly the entire passage, but this one Rune is escaping me. I figure, in order for it to fit in the sentence, it has to be-"

Granger's interest was engaged. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, taking the thick book into her hands. "I'm surprised you're struggling with this. This was one of the easier assignments I've had to do in Runes. Translation is a breeze, especially when you're not having to think about etymology-"

"I just asked you about this one Rune," Draco chastised her, warningly. He was asking for her help for ulterior motives, but that didn't mean he was signing up for a lecture.

"It means 'passion,'" Granger said. "In the passage, 'their passion.'"

"Right," Draco said, taking the book back from her. "That sounds right."

"You're welcome," Granger said hurriedly, starting to stand up.

"You're incredible, you know that?" Draco said softly, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me," he pressed her.

Hermione's lips parted for a moment, as if she were going to say something, but she shook her head. "You knew that Rune, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You were just trying to get me to come in here."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing," Hermione said, swallowing.

"And what am I doing?" Draco asked, nearly sincerely. His stomach dropped nearly to the floor. What if she had figured it out somehow, and now this whole thing was a bust? Months and months of this back and forth, and suddenly she was wary? What happened to their trade deal efficiency? What happened to their carefully-tended-to tension?

Hermione shook her head again. "Will you just stop asking questions?" she mimicked, leaning forward and taking his chin in her hand.

Without prompt from Draco at all, she pressed her lips to his. She tasted of apple candy and something else that was even sweeter. He blinked, then closed his eyes. Was he expecting this? Yes. Was he expecting it to be her that took it on? Perhaps not.

.*.*.

What was she doing?

There was no reason she should be sitting on the edge of Malfoy's bed, kissing him spontaneously. But he had called her incredible and she was just so tickled by the fact that he asked her for help-how compromising for him-and how delicious for herself. He had lured her into his room under the guise of asking her for academic assistance.

And it really turned her on.

And it just also happened to be an amazing chance to gain the upper hand. She could feel Malfoy's surprise. It was the perfect storm.

Laughing to herself while her mouth was still on Malfoy's, she dove a little deeper. She could press for what she wanted, what she wanted last time on the desk, without the limitations of being in the office and swamped with deadlines. Without paperwork fluttering to the floor, no matter how sexy and frantic that was, perhaps they wouldn't stop so abruptly this time. He was kissing her back, moving his lips and teeth and tongue in the expert suave way he always did.

So she slid further towards him, moving to straddle his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and another on the back of his neck. He audibly stifled a groan, a sound that sent shock waves down Hermione's body. Her skirt rumpled up around her thighs. She liked the feeling of being wrapped around him. His hands moved to her back and sides, feeling her body through her shirt. She sank into the shivery feeling, making her way to his neck and kissing there, thoroughly enjoying the sharp inhale she elicited from Malfoy. She shifted on his lap, moving her hands up to his shirt buttons. She just wanted the first few undone, to better allow access to his neck, this space he seemed to like a lot. So did she.

"Merlin, Granger," he murmured, hands gripping at her waist. "What are you up to?"

"None of your business," she responded, quieting him with a bite at his collarbone. Malfoy inhaled again in surprise, then laughed.

"You're so unpredictable," he said. "You're–oh–"

Hermione was enjoying the way she could cut him off, surprise him, make him hold her tighter or gasp for air when she did something. He was normally the one in control, but she liked when he wasn't so cool and collected, making her feel silly. And this was just snogging, she thought, as she guided his hand to her thigh. She wondered how much she could make him lose his cool.

But as an expert hand caressed her leg, snaking up to grab higher on her thigh, Hermione had a deliciously evil thought. Yes, she was quite enjoying this, but some deep psychological part of her knew that keeping their game going would ensure this didn't end. She could have also called it revenge, but that was too simplistic.

And that felt like the right time to cut it off. Suddenly, she pulled back, biting her lip as if deep in thought.

"What?" Draco asked huskily, breathless and hand still tracing her side.

"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking about how much homework I have."

"What?" he asked again, confused.

She pulled him close, indulging in a smirk. "Goodnight, Malfoy," Hermione said against his lips, pushing him back and sliding herself smoothly off of the bed. She smoothed her skirt and walked out of the room, not even looking back to savor the sweet shock that was surely on the Slytherin's face.

She walked down the hall, into the bathroom, and plunged immediately into a cold shower.

.*.*.

Beginning and Middle of February 1998

Just as tensions were building to new heights in the Head Prefects dormitory, the rest of the school seemed to be abuzz with unrelieved excitement for schoolchildren's most fraught holiday: Valentine's Day. This year, falling on a Saturday, it was bound to be extra special. No teachers to frustratedly shut down Valentine's shenanigans during class hours. A whole day to run free, go on dates, snog in the hallways.

That is, if they didn't get caught by the prefects patrolling.

Hermione chewed on the inside of her lip as she took another passing glance at the schedule in the office. She had scheduled herself for that day, of course, seeing as no one else would take it. Malfoy had taken the day shift, but it seemed so many of the Prefects had dinners and dates to attend to at night. Hermione was not one of them, so she dutifully took on the patrol. As she thought about all the couples holding hands and the roses she had passed in the hallways today, she was beginning to dread more and more the idea of working on this particular weekend.

Although, it did give her a reason to avoid the certain person she was worried about spending Valentine's Day with. Every time a certain blond flashed in her mind, her stomach twisted. It wasn't a terrible feeling, but rather an unknown one. It wasn't butterflies, she was sure it couldn't be. Yet it wasn't disgust. And it wasn't pure lust. Just a strange twist in her system when she thought about the two of them alone in their dormitory on one of the most "romantic" nights of the year.

She was beyond the point of denying that she was physically attracted to Draco Malfoy. It was pretty obvious from their past two encounters that there was chemistry, no matter how much it seemed to counteract logic.

The thought of roses from him-or a dinner date-she brushed that thought away. It wouldn't ever happen. While they may have had a penchant for snogging randomly whilst in near proximity to each other, it wasn't a romantic thing. This was business, for Merlin's sake. Right?

But that caused a thought in Hermione's mind, a seed that planted itself as she stepped from the office towards the door, to walk to the library for her nightly study session:

What if she just took things into her own hands?

What if just admitted that she knew what she wanted, and she used him to get it?

She smirked to herself as she strolled down the empty hallway. Malfoy was the true playboy, so was it wrong of her to consider playing him? It's not like she had done anything really all that "bad" in her entire life. If it was towards Malfoy, then would it cancel out for all the torture he had put her through when they were younger?

As the seed continued to take root in the crevices of her brain, she tried to shake it out. It would be playing a dangerous game, to do what she was thinking of doing. Sleeping with Malfoy? It could destroy the careful, tightrope balance they had created in their working relationship. It could uneven their playing field. It could put her at a huge disadvantage, trying to pursue a sexual encounter without having any prior experience-it could be disastrous. She had just barely stopped herself last time.

Yet, it could be fun. And she would get what she needed.

Hermione physically stopped herself in her tracks, shaking her head. No. These cunning plots were too Slytherin for her, too blunt to be good. There were parts that had to be checked, pieces that had to be finalized if she was going to "play" Malfoy at all.

First of all, their responsibilities as Head Prefects were of the utmost importance this year. She had big plans for her future. Regardless of what Gethsemane Prickle thought about the honor of Head Prefect, it still meant big things everywhere else in the wizarding world. She couldn't risk there being issues in their performance this late in their season. She needed those recommendations from the Headmaster.

However, once their duties were out of the way, it was really just her and him and the intense amounts of unresolved tension between them. They were leaving school anyways, right? At that point, it would only be ceremonious, to tie up her career at Hogwarts with such a release-

Hermione started walking again, more solidified in her mind's processes. Yes, she was going to get what she wanted from Draco Malfoy.

But only after they were finished with the job they had to do.

.*.*.

Hermione was not the only one with a plan. Draco had one, too, of course, unbeknownst to him, completely adversary to Granger's simultaneously concocted schemes.

Of course, no matter which genius mind took the victory in this battle of the sexes, it was going to land in Draco's favor. Things were looking hopeful for the King of Slytherin, but he didn't let it off, sitting at the Dining Hall table with his posse.

"So, my friend," Zabini cooed teasingly. "It's Hearts Day, coming up."

"So it is," Draco replied plainly. He took a bite of his apple, eyes unconsciously flicking to the Gryffindor table. There she was, staring into her soup.

"Any plans?" Theo asked nonchalantly, poking at his food with a fork.

"She's patrolling," Draco flatly said, still zoning out. "Not ideal."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," interjected Zabini, leaning forward on the table. "Nobody said we were asking about Gryffindor Granger." He smirked. "Don't tell me you're going stag this Valentine's Day… for her?"

Draco held his tongue, though fire flashed through his eyes. He could murder that son of a bitch right now. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm just saying, don't go this far for a beach house. I've practically forgotten about it by now. How long has it been since you've been laid at all this year?" mocked Zabini.

"A true Sex God," simmered Draco, "would not disclose his conquests." He stood up abruptly, walking firmly to the other far end of the table, leaving Nott chuckling and Zabini fuming. He slid onto the bench next to Daphne Greengrass, who was deeply not engaged in a conversation between two other Slytherin 7th years.

"Hey," she said, taking a dainty bite of her eggs. "What's up?"

Draco lowered his voice. "What's that one spell to conjure up flowers? More specifically, petals?"

Daphne froze mid-chew, turning slowly to look at him. "Why, are you going to prank Nott or something?"

"It's important. I checked the library, but I guess they're hiding rose petal magic in the Forbidden. I don't have time to sneak in there before I need to know, and I figure you would know it, so I'm asking: teach me."

"Rose petals?" Daphne blinked at him. "How cliché."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You think I don't know that?"

"Who's the dumbass you're trying to seduce, then?"

Draco didn't answer, just sighed. "Some people need very obvious clues and prompting, even if they're extremely bright. Like you right now, for example: I'm quite blatantly asking for your help, and you're instead grilling me about unimportant details."

Daphne's face twisted into a thinking look. "Yeah, okay." She reached down for her bag and pulled out a spare piece of parchment. Conjuring up a quill, she scribbled a few instructions down, then slid the paper over to Draco discreetly.

"Bold of you to pick such an auspicious date," Daphne said. "You're going to scare them off."

Draco slid the piece of paper off of the table into his cloak pocket. "If she could be scared off, she would have been already. Thanks, Greengrass. I owe you."

With that, he stood, complete with his needs from the Great Hall.

Valentine's Day. Granger would be patrolling. When she came back, he would seduce her once and for all. She wouldn't be able to resist, because, well, it would be Valentine's Day. And there was no denying it was where they were headed regardless.

.*.*.*.

Saturday night, Hermione got a note slipped under the door 10 minutes before rounds. Patricia Beasley was calling in, saying she had bad food poisoning from the dinner she had gotten out on the town. Hermione laughed aloud. Not only did they have spells to cure food poisoning or upset stomachs, but it only made sense that she would be ditched on patrol so soon before.

Hermione considered walking back into the office and checking who could fill in, but it was simply beyond her care anymore. She would just give Beasley a good sting in Prefect reputation later. No use pulling someone else out of their Valentine's Day plans to roam the halls miserable with her. In fact, Hermione figured, it would be more fun to go alone. Then she didn't have to worry about seeming nice, or happy, or any of the positive adjectives. She could be her coldhearted little self, roaming the halls and busting couples sneaking about.

So with a flip of her cloak and a quiet click of the dormitory door, she was off to the Dungeon staircase to begin her two hours of patrol. She traipsed around the hallways, thankful for the dark and quiet of the Dungeon areas. If anyone was getting into trouble, it would be in the Slytherin dormitories, which were thankfully beyond her jurisdiction. There were very few classrooms down in the musty stone corridors, so it was an easy round. In fact, on her first loop, she found nothing out of place at all. Hermione started humming a tune to herself.

The only part she hated checking were the broom closets-seriously, there seemed to be no need. Hermione opened the door to one of them, and the handle of an old Quidditch broom came crashing down. She jumped back, heart pounding. Checking to make sure no one was watching, she put the broom back in its neat vertical stack, and clicked the door closed.

It was an hour and a half in, and Hermione was ready to go back to her room and sleep peacefully the rest of the night. Thank Merlin their rooms were soundproof, she could even avoid whatever Malfoy might be doing tonight. Briefly, she wondered if he had plans. He had to have plans. Malfoy was the biggest whore in school. She had no idea who he would be having plans with, but she was sure he had girls to call upon. Or someone he just found. Hermione laughed bitterly. It wasn't like she was mad, it was just that she felt so ridiculous wandering the halls by herself on patrol. It was pathetic.

It was the distant crash that pulled her out of her reverie. In a classroom down the hall, there was definitely something moving. Hermione froze, listening closely. It was quiet, meaning someone must be trying to hide something. Quietly, she stepped down the hallway, readying her wand. How bold of her to assume the later it got, the less she would have to deal with. If this was her first citation of the night, she hoped against probability that it would be her last, that she could go home with less paperwork to fill out.

Coming closer to the classrooms, she heard another sound, like a desk being dragged across a floor. She identified the source, and crept towards the door. Taking a quick breath, she pulled open the door, allowing for whoever was in there to realize they had been caught.

"Who's in here?" she asked annoyedly, pushing the door open a bit further to step inside. "The classrooms are off limits at this time of-"

Before her eyes could adjust to the dark of the windowless classroom, a scuffling sound, a startled whisper, and suddenly, everything turned a terrifying kind of fuzzy.

Hermione groaned at the static filling her head. What was being done to her brain? More scuffling noises tapped around her and faded away, but she couldn't see or hear as her knees gave and she crumpled to the floor. "Ahh-" she cried out. "Stop!"

For a fleeting, panicked moment, Hermione realized that she was all alone. She had barely run into a single soul on her patrol all night, and now she was hexed and helpless, kneeling on the cold Dungeon floor. She shakily inhaled air, trying to push out the fuzziness filling her like fog. Where was her wand? She must have dropped it, holding onto her head that was slowly going blank. She let out a cry, a plea. "No," her voice cracked, as a hot tear slid down her cheek. Who did this to her? What was happening? What was going to happen to her, if she couldn't see or hear or think?

The cool tile hit her cheek just as she lost consciousness.

.*.*.*.

Granger was late.

Draco rolled his neck, checked the time again. 40 minutes past her scheduled end of patrol. She must have gone to the library or done something else completely Granger-like and geeky, it only made sense.

Oh, well. He had planned for a late night anyway. Realizing he probably had time, Draco poured himself a glass of the red wine he had procured, strolling out into the hallway towards the Common Room. A brief stretch of his legs suddenly illuminated to him just how ridiculous this whole situation was: kicked back in his bedroom armchair, reading a book and waiting to seduce his roommate and coworker. He laughed during a sip of wine. Had he really hit a new low?

Just then, the click of the portrait door sounded behind him, and he whipped around, realizing he would be able to see her reaction firsthand at the trail of rose petals strewn on the floor. He would be able to see just how furious, or panicked, or eager she got. Holding his glass in front of him, he smirked and waited.

What he wasn't expecting to see was a wreck of a Hermione Granger come stumbling in through the door, falling to the floor within seconds. What, was she that disgusted with the petals?

It didn't take long for him to hear the crying, see the way she was holding her side and clutching at her head like she was in pain. All humor immediately lost, Draco set down his glass on the nearest table and rushed forward to the still-ajar doorway, where Hermione was crumpled.

He gently grabbed her shoulders, turning her on her side to see her face. Delicately pulling her hand away that was clamped to her forehead, something cold ran through his blood. She looked drained of color, frantic, and in agony. She stared past him with glazed eyes, breathing shallowly with hiccuping breaths. He ran his eyes over her, a quick check of her body. Her cloak was slipping off her shoulder, and there was blood on the side of her blouse. He scanned her face, tilting her head towards him so she was looking at him.

"Granger, who did this to you?"