N.B. Anything recognisable, I don't own.
I apologise for any spelling mistakes there might be....please forgive me.
Chapter 5-Confrontations and Denial
The next day Draco was full of emotions and mixed feelings-his anger had returned, although he still had an overwhelming feeling of guilt.
To resolve this conflict he decided to simply avoid their cause...Hermione. This proved to be relatively easy for the first week or so because, although he did see her in lessons a combination of his avoidance, her anger and Harry and Ron's paranoia ensured he never had to come within twenty feet of her.
Voldemort had been true to his word and had not called them, and the prefects had been left in charge of the organisation for the Yule Ball for the time being, so Draco had had no reason to see Hermione.
Any information from Voldemort had been passed through Snape who seemed to have redeemed himself in the Dark Lord's eyes by giving him Hermione's power.
It was the third week of ignoring Hermione when Draco faced difficulties; in more ways than one.
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It was the first week of October, and the weather was wet and foggy. The leaves of the forbidden forest had turned glorious shades of red and orange, and the leaves that had already fallen crunched satisfactorily under foot.
Draco sat by himself at the edge of the lake, watching a DADA class learn about merpeople. He was thinking, again-he had been doing a lot of it recently, and he blamed Hermione for all of it. He didn't like the thoughts she made him have-anger and frustration...eroticism and arousal. He stopped himself from taking those thoughts any further and tried to think of something else...the mission.
The Order had received very little information about Voldemort's plans-he appeared to be in no great rush to plan anything until after his grand Halloween ball was over.
It appeared, to Draco at least, that Voldemort simply called Snape to him as a drinking buddy for himself and Lucius. They would sit for hours on end like gentlemen from the early 20th Century-encased in clouds of cigar smoke, drinking brandy, putting the worlds to rights and congratulating themselves on being masters of the universe.
Often though, these conversations amongst the three wizards would turn to Hermione and her asset to Voldemort's plan. From what Snape had said, Voldemort had a bigger plan for Hermione than what he had said, but for now he would comment no further, no matter how hard Snape tried.
Again his thoughts had returned to Hermione.
"Bloody hell!" he swore out loud, annoyed at himself for letting his thoughts return to the annoying Gryffindor...again.
He heard footsteps behind him and what he saw when he turned round resulted in more curse words escaping his lips.
"What's up Malfoy? Missing your new Lord?" Sneered Ron, strolling over the grass towards Draco.
"Get lost Weasel!" Draco shot back, "Haven't you got an appointment with a dark corner somewhere where you can go curl up and die." He smiled to see Ron turn bright red with anger.
Ron marched over to Draco and, throwing himself at him, pinned him to the ground;
"Stay away from her."
"God Weasley you ARE slow aren't you-I HAVE been staying away from her. I haven't seen the know-it-all for two weeks, thank the Gods."
"You know what I mean Malfoy." Spat Ron, "I know what you were trying to do the other week in that Charms room-you're gagging to get it on with Hermione."
"Oh come off it Weasel. I don't want anything from Hermione-it's bad enough I've got to work with her, but do you REALLY think I WANT her?!"
"Yes." Replied Ron simply, his voice full of calm anger, "I do think you want her, and I'm here to make you stay away from her."
"Aaaawww." Retorted Draco, his voice full of sarcasm, "Still carrying a torch for Granger aren't you Weasel."
Ron turned red again:
"Shut it Malfoy." He said again.
Standing up Ron took out his wand and stood over Draco, pointing it at his throat.
"What are you going to do Weasel?!" Draco scoffed, "Challenge me to a duel?!"
"If that's what it takes."
Draco jumped up from the ground with ease and whipped his wand out form his robes, pointing it at Ron in one swift movement.
"Bring it on." He challenged; his face stony and serious.
The colour drained from Ron's face-everyone knew that Draco was one of the best Wizards and THE Best dueller in Hogwarts-years of practice with his father had made sure he was years above the rest of the school-he was fast and agile and knew many more spells that most of the seventh year combined; well, with the exception of Hermione. Yet Ron refused to back out.
"Well," sneered Draco, "this IS brave of you Weasel. Not going to call Potty to come save the day?"
"In your dreams Malfoy." Ron spat.
This response pleased Draco-this way he could vent out his anger on Ron with no real danger of getting severely hurt; duelling with Harry would have been slightly more of a challenge as he was more equally matched to Draco's ability, although Potter still had a way to go before he could beat him.
"Expelliarmus." Yelled Draco and Ron's wand flew into the air, landing behind him. Ron dived for it, but not before Draco could shout:
"Impedimenta." Causing Ron to be flung backwards by the blast from Draco's wand. He stood up but was in slow motion-Draco had slowed him down. By now they had attracted quite a large crowd but they ignored them as they glared at each other.
Ron, finally got up and managed to wheeze:
"Tarantallegra." And Draco's legs began to jerk out of control in a tap dance.
"Scourgify." Yelled Draco between dance moves, and soapy bubbles began to pour from Ron's mouth.
"Rictusempra." He glugged and Draco doubled up laughing, still performing his ridiculous dance. Although he managed to respond:
"Petrificus Totalus."
Ron keeled over, flat on his back and bubbles pouring from his mouth.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!" yelled a voice behind them.
Draco turned and saw Harry and Hermione pacing towards them, both red with anger.
"Finite Incantatem." Muttered Hermione; Ron loosened up, sped up and stopped spurting bubbles and Draco stopped giggling and tap dancing.
"You two are off your heads." Yelled Harry, "You're on the same bloody side yet here you are fighting like cat and dog. Are you mentally challenged or something?!"
Draco opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by a look from Hermione.
Ron stood up and looked at Draco:
"He wants Hermione." He said to Harry whilst still looking at Draco.
The trio all whirled on Draco, staring at him.
"Do I hell." He yelled. "Weasel's finally snapped and thinks I want his cast offs."
Hermione looked slightly hurt but Draco ignored her as best he could-he wasn't going to lose face in front of everyone watching.
Harry and Hermione stood either side of Ron and as Harry and Ron turned to walk away, Hermione looked at Draco with a mixture if hurt, fury and confusion in her beautiful doe eyes.
"You're pathetic." She muttered, "You never learn do you."
She turned on her heel and left him, for the second time in as many days, staring after her.
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He'd blown it again. After managing to not argue with her for weeks (ok, it was by avoiding her but still...) he had blown it all in ten stupid minutes of duelling with Weasel. Was he ever going to learn?!
Draco reached for the remains of last nights Brandy and Firewhiskey and drained them. He leaned back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of her eyes burning into him; confused and sad.
He fell into a dream where Hermione was firing questions at him whilst Harry danced to the Foxtrot and Ron shot pink soapy bubble at him. One of the bubbles grew larger and larger until it formed the shape of his father's head:
"Wake up you lazy sod." It shouted.
"Nyeh!" Muttered Draco, "Go away....m'sleep."
But his father's voice shouted even louder, searing into his skull:
"GET UP!!!" it yelled and Draco rolled out of bed and onto the floor. He looked over the bed sleepily at the fire; his father's head was in it. The voice hadn't been in his dream. The head spoke few words before vanishing:
"Make yourself presentable and get to the Manor. Now."
Draco groaned.
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Less than fifteen minutes later Draco apparated before his father and emerged from his invisibility cloak, still angry at his earlier confrontation with Ron, and slightly tipsy from the Firewhiskey and brandy, he turned angrily towards his father:
"This better bloody well be important: I had to sneak out of the castle to get down here and I've already had a shit day."
"Stop your snivelling." Commanded Lucius Malfoy, raising his hand as though to strike his son. Draco immediately quietened down, remembering his place.
"Yes father, sorry." He replied meekly.
His father nodded his approval and began pacing the room, tapping the tip of his cane against his chin, his robes swirled around him and his long white blonde hair flew around his shoulders. Suddenly he rounded on his son:
"I am very disappointed in you Draco: you're performance at your last meeting with the Dark Lord was embarrassing, you let that filthy little mudblood show you up-or at least that's what the Dark Lord has told me. Would you care to correct him?"
Draco felt his anger rising but remained silent, knowing it had been a rhetorical question that his father would supply the answer to. Sure enough, Malfoy senior continued:
"I thought not. And here was I thinking you were a Malfoy and a Slytherin. It's bad enough that she beats you in nearly half your exams every year, and that she has that odd.....power of hers, but to be marked as an equal by the Dark Lord and given a key part in his plan is a most unthinkable premise when she is not even worthy to lick your robes, let alone his."
"But she has been marked as an equal, and she should be treated as one. She has already proven herself...in more ways than one. She..."
"ENOUGH!!!" Bellowed Lucius, cutting him off in an attempt to quite his son, but Draco was too angry to listen:
"NO!!" he replied, "she HAS proven herself and has a larger burden to bear because of it. The Dark lord has looked past her origin as have the other Death Eaters...."
"The other Death Eaters think he is a fool!" yelled his father. "They only say nothing because they value their lives more than their beliefs. We only haven't killed her yet because...." Lucius abruptly stopped talking but it was clear to Draco his father had meant to let that small sentence "slip"....his father was much too educated to accidentally reveal a murder plan.
"Because what?!" Draco questioned him.
"I will tell you nothing....you are as soft as the Dark Lord."
Draco thought fast-if Hermione was in lethal danger he had to find out what it was and let The Order know as soon as possible so they could stop it.
"C'mon dad." He pleaded, "I'm your son. Do you really think I'd choose that, that mudblood over you? Pure blood counts for everything. Whatever it is you've got planned I want to be a full part of it." He kept his voice determinedly steady and full of loyalty: he knew his father had a soft spot for pureblood talk.
Lucius eyed him suspiciously:
"This is a sudden change of heart isn't it?"
"I was making sure you weren't testing me." Draco improvised, "for all I knew you could admire the Dark Lord's choice in Hermione, and were just ensuring I wasn't a traitor."
"Why should I believe you Draco?!"
"Because family blood comes before any other-pure blood especially so over dirty filthy mudblood." He felt sick hearing himself say words he had sworn would never cross his lips again. But he had to convince his father of his loyalty to his family, and of his passionate hate for Hermione. His speech appeared to have done the tricks his father smiled at him.
"Ever the Slytherin aren't you Draco...suspicious to the end. Very well," he said as he began pacing once more, "Myself and a selected handful of other Death Eaters have put together a plan to dispose of our little mudblood friend."
Draco felt a cold hand around his heart, but he tried to remain looking eager as his father continued:
"The week of the attack, myself and MacNair will ambush the mudblood and drain that immense power of hers for our own. Then we shall be able to assist the Dark Lord more than ever as we help him conquer the old fool at Hogwarts and the oh-so-wonderful boy who lived. It is brilliant but simple."
"Father, the plan is simple but it is not as sophisticated as your usual standards.."
His father glared at him:
"What do you mean?"
"Well, where is the plan to be carried out?!"
"Here at the mansion."
"And have you thought how you will entice the mudblood here?! You and her are not exactly close are you?! She may not trust you enough to be here alone with you."
"Of course she will...we are all Death Eaters."
"Yes, and many Death Eaters have betrayed those close to them-she may feel that you are not to be trusted."
"We will invite her here under the pretence of discussing the final plans with her. Will you be joining us Draco?!"
"Yes father, I will be joining you in this plane but I still think it needs fine tuning-What if it was just you and me disposing of her...she has been a parasite in our lives for too long now, and I do not wish to share the honour of killing her with anyone but my father."
"Very well," smiled Lucius, "looking proudly at his son, "I will inform MacNair of the change of plans-I'm sure he will understand."
"Thank you father." Draco replied, sounding as sincere as he could.
Lucius walked over tot he elaborate drinks cabinet and extracted from it two enormous brandy balloon glasses. He emptied generous amounts into each before handing one to Draco and taking one himself.
"I think this calls for a celebration-I thought you had gone soft on me for a minute there Draco, I was most concerned. I am, however, pleased to see I was wrong."
Draco gently cupped the glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid to warm it. He smiled at his father and raised his glass:
"To pure blood." He said.
Lucius responded and smiled proudly at his son.
Draco felt sick.
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It was very late when Draco finally left Malfoy Manor and apparated back to the castle gates. He clambered under his invisibility cloak and drunkenly made his way back to his rooms.
Unfortunately his mind had other ideas; being too intoxicated to think straight and it thought it would be a brilliant idea to go and see Hermione. He knew there was a reason but he wasn't sure what it was.
So, refusing to argue with his mind, his body stumbled around the castle towards her rooms-fortunately she now lived away from Gryffindor tower so he didn't have to be concerned with running into Harry or Ron-not that he was to bothered anyway; the way he was feeling he could've taken on the whole house and defeated the lot of them.
He staggered towards her door and knocked loudly. There was no answer. He swayed on the spot and knocked again, leaning his head against the door to stop himself from falling over.
He felt the door open but couldn't be bothered to move so simply fell forward, landing on something warm and squishy. It was Hermione: His large frame landing on her petite one.
She struggled from underneath him and stared at him. He simply gazed drunkenly back at her...even at two in the morning she was gorgeous: She had on her cute glasses and her long curly hair was tied in a loose knot on top of her head, but a few uncontrollable tendrils had escaped and fell around her face. She was dressed comfortably, in bright pink, three quarter pyjama bottoms, with a short grey t-shirt, showing off her flat stomach and large breasts. Draco stared at them.
"What the hell are you doing here in this state?! Get out now. I'm busy!" her voice was full of raise.
But Draco knew he was there for a reason, he just couldn't remember what.
"I have to tell you something." He said, only it came out as "Maf lo elk too mmfin portan."
"What?" scowled Hermione, not understanding a word he'd just said.
He had to think...it began with m.....monkeys, merpeople, money, no, it was none of those. Mu...mur...murm...no...Murder!!! That was it...MURDER!!!!
"Dyag yuna illk oooo."
"Oh for God's sake." Muttered Hermione.
She bent down and pulled Draco to his feet. She led him over to her lounge area and pushed him into the large, soft, red settee. He fell into the squashy cushions and minutes later felt a hot cup thrust into his hand. The smell told him it was fresh coffee...good stuff. His bleary eyes saw Hermione curl up in one of the large armchairs, and pick up a large book, clutching a steaming mug of what smelt like raspberries and vanilla. He tried to focus on the title of the book:
Wuthering Heights.
"Drink." She ordered from behind the book. He drank, and finished the warm coffee quickly as Hermione sipped hers slowly.
"I've read that book." He said.
"How clever of you." She replied, obviously annoyed.
"It was good."
This got her attention;
"You enjoy Emily Bronte?" she asked, sounding surprised.
"Hey, I may be a Slytherin but I'm not illiterate."
She smiled:
"So why ARE you here Draco? It's two o'clock...I was about to go to bed."
Draco took a deep breath as he felt his stomach flip flop.
"The week of the attack, my Dad's going to invite you and me to Malfoy Manor. There he plans for me and him to drain your power and...kill you."
Hermione stopped sipping her drink and stared at Draco.
"But...why?" she asked, her eyes large and confused.
"Because he's angry that Voldemort has marked you when you're muggleborn...they normally kill witches like you."
Draco lowered his head, ashamed of his father.
Hermione was silent for a few moments. When she spoke, her voice was calm and even:
"We need to tell The Order as soon as possible, and find a way of stopping this without drawing attention to ourselves."
"I know, but how are we going to stop this?!"
"That I don't know but now is really not the time to be discussing it- you're drunk and I'm tired. We'll go to Snape tomorrow."
Draco nodded his agreement and the room fell silent again. A few minutes passed and then Draco heard a noise; he looked up and saw Hermione silently sobbing.
"What's up?!" he asked.
"It's all going wrong...everything. I didn't think it would be like this-I thought I'd just be accepted and there would be no complications, but now everything's going to be ruined, and it's all my fault. I would've been better staying out of this altogether."
Draco was confused about what to do; why did she keep falling to pieces when she was with him?! He couldn't cope with it-he didn't know what to do. He improvised and went to sit on the arm of the chair she was in- miraculously he didn't miss it and he awkwardly placed an arm around her shoulder. With the other he tilted her face towards him and looked at her.
"We couldn't do this without you Hermione. And let's face it, you were kind of forced into the job."
She smiled weakly at him and his eyes never left her face-the coffee had sobered him up slightly, not completely, but even a drunk could see how beautiful she was. He brushed a ringlet behind her ear and rested his hand against her head.
Her eyes shone with tears and her lips were trembling and luring.
He moved his head closer to hers and..........
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Is that ending mean?! Ah well, sorry about that. Just thought I'd add a little cliff-hanger for you all. Hopefully you won't have to wait too long for then next Chapter (I got this one up before I thought I would...two days early)
Slytherin Spirit
I apologise for any spelling mistakes there might be....please forgive me.
Chapter 5-Confrontations and Denial
The next day Draco was full of emotions and mixed feelings-his anger had returned, although he still had an overwhelming feeling of guilt.
To resolve this conflict he decided to simply avoid their cause...Hermione. This proved to be relatively easy for the first week or so because, although he did see her in lessons a combination of his avoidance, her anger and Harry and Ron's paranoia ensured he never had to come within twenty feet of her.
Voldemort had been true to his word and had not called them, and the prefects had been left in charge of the organisation for the Yule Ball for the time being, so Draco had had no reason to see Hermione.
Any information from Voldemort had been passed through Snape who seemed to have redeemed himself in the Dark Lord's eyes by giving him Hermione's power.
It was the third week of ignoring Hermione when Draco faced difficulties; in more ways than one.
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It was the first week of October, and the weather was wet and foggy. The leaves of the forbidden forest had turned glorious shades of red and orange, and the leaves that had already fallen crunched satisfactorily under foot.
Draco sat by himself at the edge of the lake, watching a DADA class learn about merpeople. He was thinking, again-he had been doing a lot of it recently, and he blamed Hermione for all of it. He didn't like the thoughts she made him have-anger and frustration...eroticism and arousal. He stopped himself from taking those thoughts any further and tried to think of something else...the mission.
The Order had received very little information about Voldemort's plans-he appeared to be in no great rush to plan anything until after his grand Halloween ball was over.
It appeared, to Draco at least, that Voldemort simply called Snape to him as a drinking buddy for himself and Lucius. They would sit for hours on end like gentlemen from the early 20th Century-encased in clouds of cigar smoke, drinking brandy, putting the worlds to rights and congratulating themselves on being masters of the universe.
Often though, these conversations amongst the three wizards would turn to Hermione and her asset to Voldemort's plan. From what Snape had said, Voldemort had a bigger plan for Hermione than what he had said, but for now he would comment no further, no matter how hard Snape tried.
Again his thoughts had returned to Hermione.
"Bloody hell!" he swore out loud, annoyed at himself for letting his thoughts return to the annoying Gryffindor...again.
He heard footsteps behind him and what he saw when he turned round resulted in more curse words escaping his lips.
"What's up Malfoy? Missing your new Lord?" Sneered Ron, strolling over the grass towards Draco.
"Get lost Weasel!" Draco shot back, "Haven't you got an appointment with a dark corner somewhere where you can go curl up and die." He smiled to see Ron turn bright red with anger.
Ron marched over to Draco and, throwing himself at him, pinned him to the ground;
"Stay away from her."
"God Weasley you ARE slow aren't you-I HAVE been staying away from her. I haven't seen the know-it-all for two weeks, thank the Gods."
"You know what I mean Malfoy." Spat Ron, "I know what you were trying to do the other week in that Charms room-you're gagging to get it on with Hermione."
"Oh come off it Weasel. I don't want anything from Hermione-it's bad enough I've got to work with her, but do you REALLY think I WANT her?!"
"Yes." Replied Ron simply, his voice full of calm anger, "I do think you want her, and I'm here to make you stay away from her."
"Aaaawww." Retorted Draco, his voice full of sarcasm, "Still carrying a torch for Granger aren't you Weasel."
Ron turned red again:
"Shut it Malfoy." He said again.
Standing up Ron took out his wand and stood over Draco, pointing it at his throat.
"What are you going to do Weasel?!" Draco scoffed, "Challenge me to a duel?!"
"If that's what it takes."
Draco jumped up from the ground with ease and whipped his wand out form his robes, pointing it at Ron in one swift movement.
"Bring it on." He challenged; his face stony and serious.
The colour drained from Ron's face-everyone knew that Draco was one of the best Wizards and THE Best dueller in Hogwarts-years of practice with his father had made sure he was years above the rest of the school-he was fast and agile and knew many more spells that most of the seventh year combined; well, with the exception of Hermione. Yet Ron refused to back out.
"Well," sneered Draco, "this IS brave of you Weasel. Not going to call Potty to come save the day?"
"In your dreams Malfoy." Ron spat.
This response pleased Draco-this way he could vent out his anger on Ron with no real danger of getting severely hurt; duelling with Harry would have been slightly more of a challenge as he was more equally matched to Draco's ability, although Potter still had a way to go before he could beat him.
"Expelliarmus." Yelled Draco and Ron's wand flew into the air, landing behind him. Ron dived for it, but not before Draco could shout:
"Impedimenta." Causing Ron to be flung backwards by the blast from Draco's wand. He stood up but was in slow motion-Draco had slowed him down. By now they had attracted quite a large crowd but they ignored them as they glared at each other.
Ron, finally got up and managed to wheeze:
"Tarantallegra." And Draco's legs began to jerk out of control in a tap dance.
"Scourgify." Yelled Draco between dance moves, and soapy bubbles began to pour from Ron's mouth.
"Rictusempra." He glugged and Draco doubled up laughing, still performing his ridiculous dance. Although he managed to respond:
"Petrificus Totalus."
Ron keeled over, flat on his back and bubbles pouring from his mouth.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!" yelled a voice behind them.
Draco turned and saw Harry and Hermione pacing towards them, both red with anger.
"Finite Incantatem." Muttered Hermione; Ron loosened up, sped up and stopped spurting bubbles and Draco stopped giggling and tap dancing.
"You two are off your heads." Yelled Harry, "You're on the same bloody side yet here you are fighting like cat and dog. Are you mentally challenged or something?!"
Draco opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by a look from Hermione.
Ron stood up and looked at Draco:
"He wants Hermione." He said to Harry whilst still looking at Draco.
The trio all whirled on Draco, staring at him.
"Do I hell." He yelled. "Weasel's finally snapped and thinks I want his cast offs."
Hermione looked slightly hurt but Draco ignored her as best he could-he wasn't going to lose face in front of everyone watching.
Harry and Hermione stood either side of Ron and as Harry and Ron turned to walk away, Hermione looked at Draco with a mixture if hurt, fury and confusion in her beautiful doe eyes.
"You're pathetic." She muttered, "You never learn do you."
She turned on her heel and left him, for the second time in as many days, staring after her.
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He'd blown it again. After managing to not argue with her for weeks (ok, it was by avoiding her but still...) he had blown it all in ten stupid minutes of duelling with Weasel. Was he ever going to learn?!
Draco reached for the remains of last nights Brandy and Firewhiskey and drained them. He leaned back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of her eyes burning into him; confused and sad.
He fell into a dream where Hermione was firing questions at him whilst Harry danced to the Foxtrot and Ron shot pink soapy bubble at him. One of the bubbles grew larger and larger until it formed the shape of his father's head:
"Wake up you lazy sod." It shouted.
"Nyeh!" Muttered Draco, "Go away....m'sleep."
But his father's voice shouted even louder, searing into his skull:
"GET UP!!!" it yelled and Draco rolled out of bed and onto the floor. He looked over the bed sleepily at the fire; his father's head was in it. The voice hadn't been in his dream. The head spoke few words before vanishing:
"Make yourself presentable and get to the Manor. Now."
Draco groaned.
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Less than fifteen minutes later Draco apparated before his father and emerged from his invisibility cloak, still angry at his earlier confrontation with Ron, and slightly tipsy from the Firewhiskey and brandy, he turned angrily towards his father:
"This better bloody well be important: I had to sneak out of the castle to get down here and I've already had a shit day."
"Stop your snivelling." Commanded Lucius Malfoy, raising his hand as though to strike his son. Draco immediately quietened down, remembering his place.
"Yes father, sorry." He replied meekly.
His father nodded his approval and began pacing the room, tapping the tip of his cane against his chin, his robes swirled around him and his long white blonde hair flew around his shoulders. Suddenly he rounded on his son:
"I am very disappointed in you Draco: you're performance at your last meeting with the Dark Lord was embarrassing, you let that filthy little mudblood show you up-or at least that's what the Dark Lord has told me. Would you care to correct him?"
Draco felt his anger rising but remained silent, knowing it had been a rhetorical question that his father would supply the answer to. Sure enough, Malfoy senior continued:
"I thought not. And here was I thinking you were a Malfoy and a Slytherin. It's bad enough that she beats you in nearly half your exams every year, and that she has that odd.....power of hers, but to be marked as an equal by the Dark Lord and given a key part in his plan is a most unthinkable premise when she is not even worthy to lick your robes, let alone his."
"But she has been marked as an equal, and she should be treated as one. She has already proven herself...in more ways than one. She..."
"ENOUGH!!!" Bellowed Lucius, cutting him off in an attempt to quite his son, but Draco was too angry to listen:
"NO!!" he replied, "she HAS proven herself and has a larger burden to bear because of it. The Dark lord has looked past her origin as have the other Death Eaters...."
"The other Death Eaters think he is a fool!" yelled his father. "They only say nothing because they value their lives more than their beliefs. We only haven't killed her yet because...." Lucius abruptly stopped talking but it was clear to Draco his father had meant to let that small sentence "slip"....his father was much too educated to accidentally reveal a murder plan.
"Because what?!" Draco questioned him.
"I will tell you nothing....you are as soft as the Dark Lord."
Draco thought fast-if Hermione was in lethal danger he had to find out what it was and let The Order know as soon as possible so they could stop it.
"C'mon dad." He pleaded, "I'm your son. Do you really think I'd choose that, that mudblood over you? Pure blood counts for everything. Whatever it is you've got planned I want to be a full part of it." He kept his voice determinedly steady and full of loyalty: he knew his father had a soft spot for pureblood talk.
Lucius eyed him suspiciously:
"This is a sudden change of heart isn't it?"
"I was making sure you weren't testing me." Draco improvised, "for all I knew you could admire the Dark Lord's choice in Hermione, and were just ensuring I wasn't a traitor."
"Why should I believe you Draco?!"
"Because family blood comes before any other-pure blood especially so over dirty filthy mudblood." He felt sick hearing himself say words he had sworn would never cross his lips again. But he had to convince his father of his loyalty to his family, and of his passionate hate for Hermione. His speech appeared to have done the tricks his father smiled at him.
"Ever the Slytherin aren't you Draco...suspicious to the end. Very well," he said as he began pacing once more, "Myself and a selected handful of other Death Eaters have put together a plan to dispose of our little mudblood friend."
Draco felt a cold hand around his heart, but he tried to remain looking eager as his father continued:
"The week of the attack, myself and MacNair will ambush the mudblood and drain that immense power of hers for our own. Then we shall be able to assist the Dark Lord more than ever as we help him conquer the old fool at Hogwarts and the oh-so-wonderful boy who lived. It is brilliant but simple."
"Father, the plan is simple but it is not as sophisticated as your usual standards.."
His father glared at him:
"What do you mean?"
"Well, where is the plan to be carried out?!"
"Here at the mansion."
"And have you thought how you will entice the mudblood here?! You and her are not exactly close are you?! She may not trust you enough to be here alone with you."
"Of course she will...we are all Death Eaters."
"Yes, and many Death Eaters have betrayed those close to them-she may feel that you are not to be trusted."
"We will invite her here under the pretence of discussing the final plans with her. Will you be joining us Draco?!"
"Yes father, I will be joining you in this plane but I still think it needs fine tuning-What if it was just you and me disposing of her...she has been a parasite in our lives for too long now, and I do not wish to share the honour of killing her with anyone but my father."
"Very well," smiled Lucius, "looking proudly at his son, "I will inform MacNair of the change of plans-I'm sure he will understand."
"Thank you father." Draco replied, sounding as sincere as he could.
Lucius walked over tot he elaborate drinks cabinet and extracted from it two enormous brandy balloon glasses. He emptied generous amounts into each before handing one to Draco and taking one himself.
"I think this calls for a celebration-I thought you had gone soft on me for a minute there Draco, I was most concerned. I am, however, pleased to see I was wrong."
Draco gently cupped the glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid to warm it. He smiled at his father and raised his glass:
"To pure blood." He said.
Lucius responded and smiled proudly at his son.
Draco felt sick.
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It was very late when Draco finally left Malfoy Manor and apparated back to the castle gates. He clambered under his invisibility cloak and drunkenly made his way back to his rooms.
Unfortunately his mind had other ideas; being too intoxicated to think straight and it thought it would be a brilliant idea to go and see Hermione. He knew there was a reason but he wasn't sure what it was.
So, refusing to argue with his mind, his body stumbled around the castle towards her rooms-fortunately she now lived away from Gryffindor tower so he didn't have to be concerned with running into Harry or Ron-not that he was to bothered anyway; the way he was feeling he could've taken on the whole house and defeated the lot of them.
He staggered towards her door and knocked loudly. There was no answer. He swayed on the spot and knocked again, leaning his head against the door to stop himself from falling over.
He felt the door open but couldn't be bothered to move so simply fell forward, landing on something warm and squishy. It was Hermione: His large frame landing on her petite one.
She struggled from underneath him and stared at him. He simply gazed drunkenly back at her...even at two in the morning she was gorgeous: She had on her cute glasses and her long curly hair was tied in a loose knot on top of her head, but a few uncontrollable tendrils had escaped and fell around her face. She was dressed comfortably, in bright pink, three quarter pyjama bottoms, with a short grey t-shirt, showing off her flat stomach and large breasts. Draco stared at them.
"What the hell are you doing here in this state?! Get out now. I'm busy!" her voice was full of raise.
But Draco knew he was there for a reason, he just couldn't remember what.
"I have to tell you something." He said, only it came out as "Maf lo elk too mmfin portan."
"What?" scowled Hermione, not understanding a word he'd just said.
He had to think...it began with m.....monkeys, merpeople, money, no, it was none of those. Mu...mur...murm...no...Murder!!! That was it...MURDER!!!!
"Dyag yuna illk oooo."
"Oh for God's sake." Muttered Hermione.
She bent down and pulled Draco to his feet. She led him over to her lounge area and pushed him into the large, soft, red settee. He fell into the squashy cushions and minutes later felt a hot cup thrust into his hand. The smell told him it was fresh coffee...good stuff. His bleary eyes saw Hermione curl up in one of the large armchairs, and pick up a large book, clutching a steaming mug of what smelt like raspberries and vanilla. He tried to focus on the title of the book:
Wuthering Heights.
"Drink." She ordered from behind the book. He drank, and finished the warm coffee quickly as Hermione sipped hers slowly.
"I've read that book." He said.
"How clever of you." She replied, obviously annoyed.
"It was good."
This got her attention;
"You enjoy Emily Bronte?" she asked, sounding surprised.
"Hey, I may be a Slytherin but I'm not illiterate."
She smiled:
"So why ARE you here Draco? It's two o'clock...I was about to go to bed."
Draco took a deep breath as he felt his stomach flip flop.
"The week of the attack, my Dad's going to invite you and me to Malfoy Manor. There he plans for me and him to drain your power and...kill you."
Hermione stopped sipping her drink and stared at Draco.
"But...why?" she asked, her eyes large and confused.
"Because he's angry that Voldemort has marked you when you're muggleborn...they normally kill witches like you."
Draco lowered his head, ashamed of his father.
Hermione was silent for a few moments. When she spoke, her voice was calm and even:
"We need to tell The Order as soon as possible, and find a way of stopping this without drawing attention to ourselves."
"I know, but how are we going to stop this?!"
"That I don't know but now is really not the time to be discussing it- you're drunk and I'm tired. We'll go to Snape tomorrow."
Draco nodded his agreement and the room fell silent again. A few minutes passed and then Draco heard a noise; he looked up and saw Hermione silently sobbing.
"What's up?!" he asked.
"It's all going wrong...everything. I didn't think it would be like this-I thought I'd just be accepted and there would be no complications, but now everything's going to be ruined, and it's all my fault. I would've been better staying out of this altogether."
Draco was confused about what to do; why did she keep falling to pieces when she was with him?! He couldn't cope with it-he didn't know what to do. He improvised and went to sit on the arm of the chair she was in- miraculously he didn't miss it and he awkwardly placed an arm around her shoulder. With the other he tilted her face towards him and looked at her.
"We couldn't do this without you Hermione. And let's face it, you were kind of forced into the job."
She smiled weakly at him and his eyes never left her face-the coffee had sobered him up slightly, not completely, but even a drunk could see how beautiful she was. He brushed a ringlet behind her ear and rested his hand against her head.
Her eyes shone with tears and her lips were trembling and luring.
He moved his head closer to hers and..........
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Is that ending mean?! Ah well, sorry about that. Just thought I'd add a little cliff-hanger for you all. Hopefully you won't have to wait too long for then next Chapter (I got this one up before I thought I would...two days early)
Slytherin Spirit