Merry Christmas !

Draco was awfully cheerful the next morning. She had been on her guard immediately upon noticing the smirk on his face but when she had asked, he'd only taken her hand to lead her to breakfast and said he would tell her later.

Lucio was also in a bright mood, though she sensed how it dimmed as Draco approached their son to greet him. He took him in his arms, lifted him onto his shoulder. Lucio let out a nervous giggle.

"How are you, darling?" Draco asked.

"Good morning, Father." Lucio dutifully pressed a little kiss to Draco's cheek. His smile had vanished. He looked at Hermione as if wanting help. Hermione went at once to take him from Draco, plastered a smile on her face, and bopped the tip of his nose with her finger. Lucio giggled again, his smile restored, and covered his nose with both his hands to keep it from her reach.

"Good morning, mummy."

She gave him a kiss on his chubby cheek. "Good morning, my love. How did you sleep?"

"I had a funny dream," he said, frowning as he tried to remember it. "But I don't remember it."

"How did you know it was funny?" Draco asked, ruffling Lucio's hair.

"Because he was laughing when he woke up," Pansy said as she entered the room, and bowed to them in one graceful movement. "I'd just gone in to open the curtains. He nearly scared the life from me."

"Interesting," Draco said. "Well, Lucio, if you ever remember whatever it was that made you laugh, share it with us. I could use a good laugh."

Breakfast was largely uneventful and strangely…pleasant. Hermione for once wasn't gritting her teeth or clutching her knife with a white-knuckled grip. Draco's elevated spirits cleared away the oppressive atmosphere of the house, and as they all conversed and ate together Hermione found herself almost warmed at the feel that this was what family should be like.

It had been too long. Memories of meals with the Weasleys flipped through her mind faster than she could stop them—she barely repressed her flinch. There was no accompanying ache in her chest, thankfully.

Draco appeared not to have noticed. Better that way. She picked up her goblet again, carefully drank from it.

Draco looked at his watch. "Martin will be here soon."

"The tutors, as well," Pansy said, and went to Lucio's seat. "Come, little Lord, you need to prepare."

Once Pansy and Lucio had gone off to the nursery, Draco stood from his chair and went to Hermione's, took her hand, and helped her stand.

"You enjoyed yourself yesterday?" he asked as they made their way out of the dining room.

"Surprisingly, yes."

"I'm glad," he said. "Very glad. Shall we see what today's paper says?"

It was tucked into the armpit of his unoccupied hand. She had not seen him retrieve it at any point. The House Elf must have sent it to him during breakfast.

"If it'll please you," she said, and he smiled, led her the rest of the way to the living room, where he promptly sat down onto his favorite couch, settling himself in comfortably, and then pulled her down into his lap. Not wanting to spoil his mood, Hermione didn't dare protest.

"Let's see—" He unfurled the paper and spread it out before the both of them.

There it was.

"We made the front page." He sounded smug.

"There was never any doubt of that."

He was already reading it quickly, his pale eyes scanning the paper. All she could focus on was the moving photograph of the moment he had snogged her right outside the bookstore.

"Did they have to use that photo?" she asked, frowning at her own image. The photo was in color—unusual for a Prophet article. She was in Draco's hold, bent over as he smothered her with his kiss, her cheeks flushed from his hand squeezing her bum. Smiling.

You really did enjoy yourself.

She pulled to her mind's eye the images they had used in the past, before their deal. Before she had begun to play his game. Her face, pinched with nerves and fear. Draco's hand clamped around her arm, or barring across her back, subtly but forcefully leading her forward. Her face, often blurred, always turning from the cameras in shame. It was a very stark contrast.

What would Neville think? She found herself wondering in dismay. And then caught herself.

No. It doesn't matter anymore. His opinion doesn't matter. They left me to rot.

Anger coiled within her.

"Sweetheart, they love you," Draco said, his voice cutting over her thoughts.

She started, looked away from the photo, and read the title.

HANDSY LORD AND LADY MALFOY PAY SURPRISE VISIT TO KNOCKTURN ALLEY, STUN ONLOOKERS.

It appeared to be an ordinary day in Knockturn Alley yesterday, and so it was until the public was surprised by the sudden presence of Lord and Lady Hermione Malfoy. Sightings of the complete couple are rare, as we know Lady Malfoy as reclusive, so reporters flocked to the scene to ask the beautiful couple why they were suddenly out without prior announcement. Lady Malfoy looked radiant and besotted with her husband. Few could take their eyes off the pair. Lord Malfoy did not take any questions, stating that they wanted to celebrate their anniversary in peace. Our rare opportunity was lost, and their wishes were respected—but the Prophet photographers were still able to catch this shot of the two "canoodling" in the street. On the behalf of the crew at the Prophet, we would like to wish them a happy anniversary, and that we hope to see the happy couple out and about more often!

"Ugh," Hermione said, unable to help herself.

Draco laughed. "Top-tier journalism, isn't it?"

He didn't bother going through the rest of the paper and tossed it onto the desk. Hermione eyed it, planning to finish the rest once he left.

"I was sure Longbottom would have acted by now," he said. His arms locked around her stomach, trapping her to him. "He's hasty enough these days that I'd expected it sooner."

Hermione raised a brow. "It's obvious you did it to set him off. Of course he wasn't going to bite immediately."

"Well yes, I wanted to ruin his morning. I also wanted to show you off and celebrate. But I need to reel him out of the water, first, and we still have time to see whether it worked or not. But, say it doesn't…" He raised a brow at her. "Any ideas, my love?"

Hermione met his eye, leaned back against him and took his chin in her hand, assessed him coolly.

"Obviously."

Draco grinned. His arms went lax around her.

"Let's hear them, then."

She stood from his lap swiftly, taking a large stride in case he tried to snatch her back, and began to pace.

"The first involves leaving a message—covert or not, to draw him out. I could write something, say I want to talk to him."

He pondered it.

"He might think I wrote that."

"Not if I make sure he sees me dropping it off."

"How will you know he'll see you doing it?"

"I'll make a visit to Diagon Alley this time," she said. "Word will spread. If it's just me he might take the risk to go follow me."

He was weighing it in his head. His hand ran through his hair.

"What's the other idea? I know there's another."

Hermione squared her shoulders.

"I go into public alone and draw him out. You know where he's been active last. Or I could go back to the Burrow and wait there. You stay here and wait until I summon you or you can conceal yourself and stay close until he arrives. I distract him, pretend I've freed myself, and then you come in."

He was nodding. "I like it. It's bold."

"I can't guarantee results, but I'm fairly confident in it." She looked away. "I'm sure he'll know it's a trap regardless, but he'll come anyway."

"Yes, you had that little agreement, didn't you?" Draco asked. "Maybe he'll come hoping that you'll be brave enough to cross me then."

"Years ago, I might still have tried," she said. "But I wouldn't dare leave without Lucio. Perhaps if I could make him think I had Lucio with me, that would be more convincing."

"But he'll be here the entire time, right, darling wife?" he asked pointedly. "Because you wouldn't be so foolish to think I'd actually approve that part of the plan."

"Of course he'll be here," Hermione said coolly, and then made herself give him a coy smile. "What, don't you trust me?"

Draco saw the challenge in her eyes, and a smirk crept across his face.

"A little more every day," he replied.

Draco left shortly after on undisclosed business. Hermione hadn't cared to ask. When he was gone, she went to find Martin in the library. He had quickly become a permanent fixture in the manor, and Hermione sometimes pictured him as a marble statue standing there by the window, his eyes focused and his raised arm holding his brush, the other supporting his palette.

He heard her enter this time and turned to her as she approached.

"He isn't here," Hermione said, after he'd opened his mouth to utter his greeting, but faltered and looked around covertly.

"Oh," he said, and smiled, relaxed. "Hello, then."

"Hello."

She came to a stop beside him, assessed the painting.

"How do you work so quickly?"

Draco's imperious stare held her gaze. The fine details of his face, hair and clothing were almost lifelike. She felt as if she could reach out and touch the flat canvas, she would meet the 3d planes of his face instead, feel the textured skin and stubble under her fingertips.

"Years of practice. Also, with the number of paintings I've been commissioned to do, I feel I must," Martin said. "As much as an honor this is, I don't want this project to take up too much of my time. No offense meant."

"No," she replied. "I understand. I wouldn't want to deal with some wizard's ego-boosting portraits either, if I could paint whatever I wanted."

Martin stared at her for a beat and then let out a loud laugh.

"That's very close to what I was thinking," he admitted.

"Don't worry," she said. "I won't tell."

He let out a nervous laugh.

There was a knock at the door.

"My Lady," Pansy said, entering and bowing. "May I speak with you?"

Martin had resumed painting as if nothing had happened. Hermione went to Pansy quickly.

"What is it?" Hermione asked. "Is something wrong? Is Draco back?"

"He isn't back but I sent for him," Pansy said. She looked grave. "Nott just arrived…it's urgent."

"Oh." Disappointed, Hermione followed her to the foyer. She had wanted to spend more time talking to Martin.

Nott—Theodore—was waiting in the foyer, standing straight and still but his eyes urgent, almost crackling with excitement.

"Is my Lord not here?" he asked, after he had bowed to Hermione.

"Pansy has summoned him," she replied. "What's happened? What news do you bring?"

There was a loud rustle behind her—she knew at once it was Draco, and was proved correct when she heard his loud, long stride lead up behind her until he was at her side, his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

"There's just been an attack in Knockturn Alley," Theodore said. "An explosion. Longbottom's doing."

There it was. The response they had been waiting for. Draco squeezed her and smiled. She was frozen in place.

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

"He didn't try to run this time. He's been apprehended."

"Was anyone harmed?"

Theodore nodded, looking grim. "They're still recovering bodies. They'd collected at least five when I left the scene."

"He's finally realized his situation, has he?" Draco said. "A desperate man will lash out when he realizes there's nowhere left to go."

"What caused the explosion?" Hermione asked.

"Looks like he used magic for that," Theodore said. "But they're looking into whether he used an explosive device, too."

"You said they apprehended him," Draco said.

"Yes, my Lord," Theodore replied. "That's why I'm here. He's been captured by the Aurors, and he said he won't resist, but he wants to talk to you, my Lord."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"He's demanded to see you both at once."

Draco looked at Hermione. His eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Well, let's not leave him waiting."

By the time they arrived at the crime scene most of the debris had been cleared, and the row of bodies were laid out on the floor, yet to be covered.

Hermione felt chilled as they approached. A strange siren was going off in the area—she had never heard it before. All shoppers and wanderers were long gone, scared off by the destruction. It had happened outside a clothes shop, and its front window and display were completely in ruin, with glass and brick strewn around like lethal confetti. Blood lay in puddles, still slowly creeping around the cobblestone.

It was a stark contrast, this silence, to how busy Knockturn had been just the previous day. There was no music playing now, no chattering ambience from people walking around. A strange, erratic energy suffused the air, made the hair along her arms and neck stand on end.

Dementors waited at the end of the street they arrived on, waiting their summons. There were Aurors everywhere, some still sorting out the destruction in and around the damaged shop, but most clustered in a group directly in front of Draco and Hermione. Deep within that snarl of cloaked bodies and grim set faces, Hermione could see a familiar figure with only one ear: Neville.

An Auror walked up to them.

"My Lord." He bowed. He was around their age if not a little younger, with a thick mustache and dark hair, and had sharp but tired eyes that flicked from Draco to Hermione as he spoke. "Lady Malfoy." He shook her hand, too. "I'm Evander Demarand. Lead Auror of the Terrorist Acts and Security Department."

"A pleasure," Hermione said. "Despite the circumstances."

He nodded. "The same to you, my Lady." He jerked his head in Neville's direction. The Aurors swarming him largely obstructed him from view but Hermione could sense his hostile stare on them. She tried to meet his eye but somebody stepped in front of him. She focused back on Evander.

"He says he will speak to you both before he leaves. We've got him restrained, but the only reason we're entertaining his demand is because he says he's got an explosive device planted somewhere else here, and he won't tell where it us until he's seen you."

"How dramatic," Draco said, and looked at the row of bodies. "How many dead?"

"Ten. Possibly more. The roof caved in partially at the back of the shop, and they're trying to clear it up to see if there's any more bodies to recover."

"Is there actually another explosive?" Hermione asked.

"We are trying to determine that," Evander replied, gesturing to a group of Aurors with their wands drawn, scanning the exterior of the buildings around them before heading inside. There were more of these groups spread out around the immediate vicinity. "We've evacuated all residents from the area to be safe."

"Has the news reached the Minister?" Draco asked.

"Most likely. I doubt he'll come. Protocol requires the Minister to go into a safe area in case of another attack. We've even had to bar the media from coming in."

"Better that way," Draco said. "No need to put more lives at risk for the sake of an article."

"I don't mean to pry, my Lord, but seeing as Longbottom has such an interest in you, what's your relation to this man?"

"We went to school together," Draco said. "He, my wife, and I. He was in love with her and became irrational and jealous when she and I got together. He's been harassing us for years, spreading slander about our relationship. I guess it finally culminated into this."

He lied so smoothly it almost impressed her. Evander seemed to have no suspicions—or if he did, he hid them well. She wondered why he seemed to trust Draco so implicitly.

Evander nodded. He glanced at Hermione.

"He seems to believe you are in danger, my Lady."

Draco scoffed. "She isn't afraid of him. He's the danger, as we've all learned today."

"Too right. Will you be wanting to see him as well?" Evander asked her. "We will not pressure you, but it may help subdue him."

"Has he been resisting?" Draco asked.

"Hasn't said a word since we apprehended him."

"I'll go," Hermione said. She shook her head, let sorrow pull at the muscles of her face. "I can't believe he did this. This has to end."

Evander escorted them to the cluster of Aurors. By now Hermione could see Neville more clearly—and suppressed a gasp.

A desperate man, indeed.

He had never looked so unkempt. His hair was long and dirty, his face pale and tired, his clothes torn and unwashed, but his stance was still strong, his expression hard as he stared straight at them. His hands were restrained at his front by two large metal cuffs that looked rather heavy, and had runes carved into them that glowed red. Hermione suspected they kept him from using magic, even if he had no wand.

She wanted to run to him, hug him. She wanted to cry for him. But she pushed those instincts away and glanced at the row of bodies lying on the ground, because this was not the same Neville who had been such a close friend as much as she was not the same Hermione.

He was staring at her and noticed when she looked at the bodies. When she looked at him again his face was less resolute, but only slightly—his lips tightened into a thin line, his eyes also went tight, as if he were holding back a sob. But it was gone within seconds, and he turned his stare onto Draco.

"Order your people to stand back," Draco said to Evander. "If he lashes out again somehow, I wouldn't want more casualties."

"We're trained to expect such things," Evan said. "I'm afraid there isn't much room for privacy in a situation like this if that was what you wanted, my Lord."

Draco held his stare. "I insist."

An unspoken agreement seemed to pass through them—and Hermione found herself wondering suddenly if Draco could project his thoughts into other's minds aside from hers.

"Of course, my Lord," Evander said at last. Strangely, he did not seem upset. "He is yours."

The Aurors formed a wide berth around them. Evander followed, went a short distance away to speak to one of the groups that was scanning another building.

Hermione frowned.

"Good," Draco said. He turned, looked at Neville. "I knew you were crazy, Longbottom, but I'd never have expected this from you."

Neville laughed bitterly. "Who are you to talk to me about what's crazy and what isn't?"

Draco smiled. "I think we're on a more even field now along those terms."

The siren was still going. Hermione wanted it to stop. It was giving her a headache.

"I got your attention, which was what I wanted," Neville said. "But the difference is that I take no pleasure in what I did."

"You didn't have to kill these many people," Hermione said. "If you wanted to talk, we could have worked out a truce."

"There's no room for truces anymore," Neville said. "Your husband wouldn't have listened. He would have ambushed me anyway."

Draco nodded. "Obviously." And he waited.

"You know what I want," Neville said after a long moment. For a moment, the fierce edge to him wavered. "Let Luna go. I'm already in custody."

"The time for mercy is long gone," Draco said coldly. "She attacked my men and conspired to run away with my wife. She's as much of a danger as you are."

Neville twitched, as if he'd meant to lunge at Draco—the Aurors around them snapped to attention, a dozen wands brandished and ready to fire.

Hermione glanced at Evander. He had gone into the building with the small group.

Draco held up his hand in a gesture for the Aurors to fall back. They obeyed, lowering their wands. Hermione stared, her frown deepening.

"You're still as impulsive as you were before," Draco was saying to Neville, sneering. "But you're learning your lesson, that's good. Why did you make all this mess just to draw us out?"

As if you hadn't dragged me out into the public yesterday just to enrage him, Hermione thought.

Neville had the same thought, because he scoffed.

"You parade your captive around town like you're such a happy couple," he said, his voice low and croaking. "You may have gagged everyone else but I see right through it."

"I don't appreciate you calling my wife a captive," Draco said coolly. "She's as free as a bird. Aren't you, sweetheart?"

Neville's eyes turned to her, hurt, hateful…yet still hopeful.

It's too late, she wanted to say. It was always too late.

"I am," Hermione said. She hesitated, stepped closer to Neville. "I want this to end, Neville… I'm tired of it."

His neck bent—she heard a dry swallow.

"I know," he said, his voice lower still. "I am, too."

"I wish you hadn't done this," Hermione said.

"Luna's your hostage, every day I've got less and less people behind me, my gran's dead, and I couldn't save you." He scoffed, shook his head. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Before you feel too sorry for him, Hermione," Draco interjected, "why don't you ask him to tell you what he's done?"

Neville's hands were bunching into fists within their restraints.

"You'll have to be more specific."

Draco's smile widened. "About Danielle."

There was a long pause.

"She worked for me as a messenger," Neville said eventually. Suddenly he wouldn't meet Hermione's gaze. "She had almost been captured once before. I realized your men were tracking her. I tried to protect her but couldn't spare anyone to guard her. When the Eyes found us, it was Luna, Danielle, and I in the same place. They'd put anti-Apparition wards on our hideout. We had to run past its perimeter to be able to get away. We all nearly made it, but Luna got hit…we slowed down, and they almost got to us."

Understanding hit her like a cold raindrop on warm skin.

"You made sure they got Danielle instead," she said.

He paused. Finally met her eyes, shook his head. "Yes."

"Tell me."

"I Obliviated her," he admitted. "I took Luna, dragged her beyond the ward, and left Danielle behind. I figured they would back off for a while if they had at least one hostage. And they did."

Hermione had gone cold.

"You sacrificed her."

"To save Luna." Neville's narrowed eyes were on Draco. "You would have done the same, if Hermione's life were ever in danger and you had a way to save her."

"Naturally," Draco replied. "I almost respect you for it."

"How did you know?" Neville asked. "You broke through the Obliviate?"

"Took less than a minute. I saw everything."

Neville fought back a wince.

Draco turned to Hermione. "He's got more stories, if you care to know them." He took her face in his hands. "You thought I was trying to manipulate you when I told you he was different. Now you see for yourself what he's become."

"I see it," she said softly. She tried to look remorseful. "I'm sorry I doubted you, my Lord."

He kissed her gently. "I was only acting in your best interest."

"You've brainwashed her into playing along," Neville said suddenly, sounding revolted. "Hermione, please. Snap out of it. The only interest he acts on is his own."

I know that, she wanted to shout, suddenly angry. I've always known that.

The Aurors were still around them—Hermione briefly focused on a few of their faces. Strangely, their expressions looked quite out of focus. As if they had been Confunded. Draco must have sensed her confusion because he sent back a sense of certainty that only confirmed to her that he was behind it. The skin along her arms prickled. How long had they been under his influence?

"I know you didn't want to kill her," Neville was saying to her. "I don't blame you. I know he made you do it."

Draco had pulled away from her but his arm was still around her waist. She closed her eyes, looked down. A breeze stirred her hair—it had grown quite overcast during this whole exchange. The atmosphere was heavy with the promise of rain.

"You're wrong," she heard herself say, and Neville's expression faltered. "I wanted to kill her."

She opened her eyes. He was frowning now. "What?"

"I said I wanted to kill her," she said firmly. "I wanted my magic back so badly that I killed her for it. And so she wouldn't be turned into another slave like I was."

"You're no longer a slave," Draco reminded her. "You never were. I made you my wife the very night I took you."

"Switch the words any way you like," she said stiffly. "You always treated me like your slave."

She looked back at Neville, who was now staring warily at her.

"I warned you," she said. "And Luna. I warned you both not to come for me."

"I told Luna not to let herself get captured," Neville said sharply. "I gave you Danielle just so she would be safe."

"Yet Danielle is dead, and we have Lovegood regardless," Draco said, sounding bored. "You've lost, Longbottom. You're going to face justice for what you've done. Accept it."

"I already have," Neville said. "Why do you think I'm not resisting? Let Luna go. That's all I ask."

"No," Draco said. "I have you both now. If my wife wants an end to this, it will be done."

Neville's frown deepened.

Hermione was watching the other Aurors. The alertness in their expressions had returned. Whether they knew or suspected they had been tampered with, none of them seemed to realize.

Footsteps registered from their left, and Evander approached them, his wand at his side.

"Happy reunion?" he asked.

"Quite the opposite," Draco said. "Old rivalries die slowly."

"Well," Evander said, shaking his head. He tucked his wand away into an inner pocket on his black coat. "The search is still underway, Longbottom. We gave you what you wanted. Where is the second explosive?"

Neville wouldn't look away from Hermione. He seemed almost afraid. She stared back solemnly.

You left me to this fate.

"It's in a lavatory in the post office," he said, finally managing to tear his eyes away. "In the mirror cabinet over the sink."

"That had better be the truth," Evander said. "Magnus, Amelia," he barked.

Two Aurors stood at attention.

"Go find it. Isolate it." He looked at Neville. "Can it be detonated easily or will we need to call in reinforcements?"

"It's a Muggle device," Neville replied, sounding numb. "Cut the red wire and it will turn off."

Evander nodded to Magnus and Amelia, who set off at once in the direction of the post office.

"A Muggle bomb," Evander muttered. "Last time our kind had to deal with one of those was 1963."

"One would need extraordinary power to cause that same amount of damage with only a wand," Draco replied. "Very few have been known to manage it."

"Let's hope this one's the last," Evander said, shaking his head. His eyes were on the shrouded bodies lying in the street. "He'll rot in Azkaban for this. I'll make sure of it."

Draco had a strange smile on his face. Hermione felt herself go tense in reaction to seeing it.

"You could let him spend the rest of his days in a cell."

Evander noticed the implication here and looked at Draco from the corner of his eye.

"You want him, then."

"He'll be guaranteed to suffer more in my hands."

Evander frowned. "He'll be expected at the Ministry. There's paperwork to be done and an official interrogation."

"The Minister will see me if he has an issue," Draco said smoothly. "But seeing as Longbottom was struck and killed by debris of the wreckage of his own making, I think it would serve no real loss to this community that he is dead now, isn't it?"

Evander understood at once. "I will make the necessary arrangements, my Lord."

"Excellent," Draco said. He withdrew a very fat and heavy pouch full of galleons and handed it to him. "Another donation will follow once news of his death comes out."

Hermione watched, stunned.

Corruption within the Ministry was not unheard of, but she had never pictured it so disgustingly bold. She looked at the other Aurors to see if they were outraged, but conveniently, all of them had their backs turned.

They're all in on it, sweetheart, Draco said. Evander might lead them, but they all listen to me.

"Draco," she said, but then stopped short, not knowing what she actually wanted to say. If she reproached him he would get angry and punish her. Nobody here could help her. The only option was to say nothing and play along.

Draco sensed her distress.

"It's alright," he said gently. "Look at your best friend, sweetheart. Neville Longbottom dies today, and our household gains another servant."

Neville's face was puce. Hermione's, in turn, had gone pale.

"No," he snarled, suddenly straining against his restraints. Everyone around him except Hermione immediately launched forward, ready to intercept. "No. I'd rather die."

Draco laughed. "You just did, fool."

Hermione grabbed his wrist.

"Draco—"

"We'll discuss this later, sweetheart," he said, brushing her off, and strode forward to grip Neville by the arm. Neville recoiled, but it was too late—Draco had reached out, grasped a chunk of his hair close to the roots, and tore it out. Neville grimaced. His coat was removed by magic next, and Draco handed them to Evander, who had come forward to collect them.

"Do what you have to. He is dead to the world and everyone saw him die by the debris falling."

"Of course, my Lord."

"No!" Neville shouted.

"Silence," Draco snapped. "You gave up your freedom when you pulled this stunt."

His hands were bound, but Neville still tried to raise them to strike at Draco, who merely laughed and held out his hand, his fingers outstretched.

Thinking he was going to cast the killing curse, Hermione found herself instinctively stepping forward, but Draco spoke too quickly.

"Imperio."

She went still, absently relieved as she watched Neville's demeanor turn passive and compliant. He lowered his hands and stared at Draco as if waiting another order.

"Don't make a fuss," Draco said sternly, but his sadistic grin belied his joy. "You've caused enough damage in one day."

"I'll be back for him in a moment," Draco said to Evander, who nodded. "Watch him."

He seized Hermione's arm and before she could speak, turned on his heel.

They arrived back at the Manor in the same instant. Hermione immediately turned to him.

"I thought you were just going to kill him."

He grabbed her by the face, pulled her in for a heated kiss. Their teeth clashed together as she tried to speak again. She winced, tried to stall him, her hands pressing against his chest.

"Draco—"

"I am going to kill him, love of mine," he said when he broke the kiss, panting slightly. His eyes danced with excitement. "But I want him to suffer first."

She stared at him bleakly as he turned on his heel again, disappeared.

She waited there for a few minutes, expecting his arrival quickly, but when it was clear he was not returning yet, Hermione turned sharply and went in search of Pansy.