Chapter 10

The clock ticked slowly as Draco lay in his bed. As he lay there, he schemed, which seemed to be his main preoccupation at the moment. It annoyed him deeply that he hadn't found a means of getting back at Flint yet, and he'd thought hard about it.

The house was quiet, as was expected. There was noise from outside the window of people passing on the street below. It was soothing more than annoying. At some point today, he should make his way to the manor to see his parents, but he didn't want to. It would be the same conversations again.

Pansy was having a soiree in her salon that night. Flint would be there. Of course he would, and try to further his aim of goading Draco away from participating in society. The blatant objective was getting boring. Flint lacked finesse—he always had.

There was nothing worse than not having a good comeback, and that was the position he was in at the moment. Underneath stirred something irrational, something violent. He wanted to destroy. It was as if his old self, the schemer, was competing with his new self, the soldier, and the two didn't fit together. The soldier wanted scorched earth. The schemer wanted more subtle destruction. They both wanted to win. These two parts of him he was trying to fit together in general, and were largely failing.

Even Draco knew how dangerous he was, so why didn't Flint? Did Flint think his self-control was endless? The soldier was speaking again. The soldier wasn't wanted anymore. His father's new regime was dependent on calm scheming to return as the primary modus operandi. Even as Draco's urge was to smash Flint's head in.

And then Hermione. What did he want from her? Nothing. Maybe just the fact that he wanted to gain something, but there was nothing else that sparked any emotion in him. Was wanting something even an emotion? Maybe he even enjoyed the anger a little, because for a while now, once the adrenalin had dissipated, there was literally nothing left inside him.

He used to be so very good at causing mischief, so why was he struggling now? What did Flint care about? Think. Relatively little. His family wealth, his reputation and losing. Losing was guaranteed, the second one was where Draco had to focus. Something deeply irking, but couldn't come across as petty. It was so frustrating that he didn't have a plan. Planning was what he did. Campaigns, sieges, searches.

With scheming, however, the best offenses involved the truth, and that was what he needed to strike. The truth could be twisted, but it was still the truth.

Now he felt a little calmer.

Pansy's salon was a familiar sight. Crowded with the right people, a pervasive din of conversation, but not raucously loud. Everyone as finely dressed as they could manage. This was the place to be seen. Pansy had done well in her aim.

"Draco, you look as gorgeous as ever," Pansy said as she approached him, taking his hands in hers like she seemed to do. It was a gesture of familiarity that was totally unnecessary, but she would make a much bigger drama of it if he didn't comply. That was her threat. "What mischief do you intend tonight?"

"When do I ever intent mischief?" A question and response they'd said to each other a million times. A vetting question, Draco had realized. If he gave the typical response, all was well. Pansy was trying to manage him, because she didn't trust him. Now that was curious. Perhaps he would have to get into that. Then again, would he trust himself? Not entirely. Pansy knew him better than anyone, and she knew he wasn't the same. Wasn't right.

"He is here, of course. Traipsing her around like a prize he won." As he said, Pansy knew him well.

"I'm not sure who is traipsing who there," he responded.

Pansy giggled mischievously. "Good point."

This would bother Flint, the suggestion that he was being manipulated by Granger. Again, there was a grain of truth in there, because Granger had arranged Flint's ownership of her. Hermione would never volunteer or engineer coming to these events by choice, but no one here knew her well enough to know that. Not even Flint. A nice little achievement would be to get Flint to question her objectives. That was the weak point in Flint's armor—his trust. Slight little nudges that would bring on an avalanche.

Hermione was dressed in red again—a color that suited her. Her hair was tied up and a black choker sat around her neck, like a symbol of ownership. Color the shade of a silvery black beetle graced her eyelids and her cheeks were artfully rouged. She looked as good as he had ever seen her, but it wasn't how she'd present herself.

Marcus was near her, staying close. In case of what? He steal her away? It was an option he'd considered.

"Well, I do hope you enjoy yourself."

Draco had forgotten Pansy was there, and he turned to her again. "Always."

"Are you sure this is worth it?" she asked.

"Toying with Flint?"

Her smile stayed, but there was seriousness in her eyes. "It's just that boredom can lend gravity to things that aren't worth the effort."

"We must appreciate the things that relieve boredom, don't you think?"

"Maybe if the prize is worthy."

This was an old sentiment too. They'd had this conversation back in at Hogwarts. Those times when he'd been incensed and scheming against the Gryffindors. Against her. Potter had been an annoying prick, but would he have been quite as irksome if it hadn't been for her? When it came to matching intellects, it hadn't been Potter he'd been grappling with. It hadn't been Potter that had made his stomach turn.

Maybe this whole thing with her, was him trying to reconnect with old patterns, with his old self. A means back.

Saying goodbye to Pansy, he headed to one of the tables on the far side of the salon. Blaise. It felt as if it had been ages since he'd seen him. They had parted company. Blaise had left during the war—his whole family, and for a long time Draco hadn't been able to forgive him.

"Draco," Blaise said. "Good to see you."

Another route to getting back to his old self, but forgiving had been an art he'd never learned.

"Blaise. How are you?"

"Well." A silence descended between them. "I see that Flint is making an ass of himself."

Draco smiled and for a moment he felt lighthearted. "Granger's leading him around like a dog."

Blaise turned to look at them. "Of all the people to survive the war, I didn't think it would be her."

Just like that Draco's good mood dissipated.

Across the room, Flint looked unhappy about something. Maybe Draco's nudgings were starting to accumulate. It really didn't take long. Flint's behavior had gotten himself to a tipping point, and now it seemed to be tipping. Someone was talking to him and then he walked away to speak to another group. Flint was in damage control, and he left Hermione behind to achieve it. Now she stood alone and her impassive expression gave way to awkwardness for a sheer moment. She hated being here. Draco almost felt sorry for her, but she had brought this on herself after all.

Flint finally came back and relief shown on her face. That momentary look surprised Draco more than anything that could have happened. There was something between them.

Now Flint brought her towards them. Blasé was talking about something Draco couldn't pay attention to.

"Zabini, Malfoy," Flint said, leaning closer to Hermione to whisper something to her. Then she moved to take one of the empty next to Draco at the table. Flint took another. "Clumsy effort," Flint said as he sat down. He smiled, and Draco wasn't sure anything goaded him more than Flint smiling. An infuriating tactic he'd overused. Even so, Draco knew he was annoyed.

"Granger," Blaise said to her. He was the only person to acknowledge her. "You do have a habit of getting stuck in the middle of things."

Hermione didn't know what to say for a moment. Flint spoke instead. "It is true that she chose sides. What can I say? She has preferences."

Flint were turning his efforts around, and Draco was a little impressed with the confidence to withstand the assertion that he was being led.

"Now I might have a quick chat to someone about a piece of property. Would you mind terribly entertaining my guest for a moment?" Flint said and rose. Granger's face was utterly impassive again and silence descended on the table.

"I think we have been neglectful in getting you a drink," Blaise said. "In all this cock comparing, no one has had the decency to get you a drink. Truly, you should choose someone better that either of them." Zabini's smile was wide the way he did when he was trying to enthrall someone.

"I find the men here are apprehensive of the choices I would make for myself."

"They took all your choices away, didn't they?" Zabini said with an exaggerated frown and then rose. "Refill, Draco?"

"No."

Blaise left them and now it was just the two of them. Had this been Flint's plan? What for?

Nothing was said between them. What was there to say? They just sat awkwardly, and it was unlike him. This, her, occupied so much of his time, but when it came to it, he had nothing to say to her.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally said.

There was no answer to give her. "Because I can."

She looked at him and the attention felt uncomfortable. He couldn't return her gaze. "Just let me go."

"What would be the fun in that?" Finally he looked at her. Her eyes were clear and large. It had been years since he'd been this close to her. He could see the spot on her neck where her pulse ticked. They just stared at each other.

Draco looked away. "He offered you to me. Did you know?"

"He told me."

The answer surprised him.

"Don't forget you're a pawn. He won't care what happens to you in all this."

"And you would?"

Now it was his turn to smile. "And what will you do when he tires of you, if it were to get to that? What are your plans, Hermione?" Of course she would have plans. She would never be one to just accept whatever people had planned for her. She was working on something. At Ollivander's, she might have been content, but she wasn't content now.

"To put myself out of your reach."

"I'm honored you're so worried."

"I know what you're capable of. I don't know what will make you stop. Is there anything that would?"

He remained silent.

"Hence out of reach."

"There's nowhere you can't be reach."

"You can't reach me now."

"You are literally within arm's length."

"And you can't touch me, just like you couldn't say yes to Flint's offer."

"You put a lot of stock on that." His fingers itched to grab her, but he didn't. She was right—his pride would not let him, and she knew it. "Flint will tire."

"So will you," she said. "But I'm not banking on it. There's a long history between us, and I don't what to know where it could go. I am going to find some way to extricate myself."

Blaise returned and place down a drink in front of Hermione and himself. "You two look like you're having fun," Blaise said teasingly. "Well, this is cozy. In fact, I don't think we've ever sat down and had a drink together, but here we are."

"Shut up, Blaise," Draco demanded. The reason this fight was so hard wasn't because he was dealing with Flint. He was dealing with Hermione and Flint. It was… elating. His fingers still itched with energy as he sat watching Blaise trying to flirt with her.

A/N For the next few days, I've put on one of my boxsets for free for you guys if anyone wants some summer reading. It's a whopper and they are fun stories, a bit naughty, a bit bitchy, all shameless. Search for Marbella Boxset Cami Oster at your Amazon site and it should be free to download. Happy reading.