Chapter 24

Draco slept and Hermione tried to be as quiet as possible, not strictly out of consideration, but more out of self-preservation. This kitchen was tiny and she sat with a cup of steaming lemon balm tea in front of her.

What the plan was, she didn't know, but Draco didn't seem in a particular hurry to leave Argentina. He hadn't told her anything. So far, however, she was entirely untouched, for which she was only grateful, because touching him would make her stomach roll.

It wasn't anything physical. It was just that it was him, and it would just be wrong on every level. And then she wondered if Harry would judge her. Harry wouldn't give in, wouldn't agree. He'd fight even if he had nothing to fight with, and even then.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Was she being weak? Should she deny Draco until he tortured her to death?

She was just so tired. She'd lived her life on a knife edge for so long now, she was just exhausted. There was no fight left in her right now. No, she refused to kill herself. She refused to give in. Part of fighting was living to fight another day. That had been her motto, to never give up on her goal, and she'd reached it if it wasn't for Draco's obsession. So how did she use that? She needed to find the point of leverage, to use that to get what she wanted.

Draco was her opponent, and what she needed was for him to release the charm that tied her to him. A fairly simple objective. She just wasn't sure what would make him do that at this point. Obsession drove him, but she knew in her gut it was a complex issue.

It was just that it was so hard for her to read him, mostly because her own reaction to him got in the way. Reacting to him was all she'd ever done. Disgust, shame, anger. It was as if he represented every negative emotion. Maybe even every negative feeling she was about the wizarding world.

This hurt her head. Thinking objectively about him hurt her head too. Maybe they should just go the torture route so she didn't have to think. Because understanding Draco wasn't something she wanted to do, and she'd have to in order to manipulate him.

Laying her head down on the table, she sighed. "I'm so tired," she said. A sharp ringing made her jump and she looked around to see on old-fashioned phone on the wall. She couldn't pick it up, or stop it ringing. This would wake Draco up, which made her both panic and at the same time feel it wasn't her problem. He was the one who'd chosen to stay here in this apartment they'd just taken up residence in.

"That the fuck is that?" Draco demanded, emerging at the door.

"The telephone. Someone's calling for whoever lives here."

Whipping out his wand, he zapped it and it silenced. The silence was stark in comparison. "Is there any alcohol?" Draco asked.

"There's some fruity liqueurs."

Draco made a disgusted noise. "Get me some alcohol."

"Fine," she stated after a moment of wanting to tell him get fucked.

"Actually, never mind," he said and disappeared. The pain was immediate, crushing her skull and she screamed. It only went on for a few moments, but it felt much longer.

Then it receded and she looked up to see him standing there again, with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. "You'd get the wrong thing." Then he walked out of sight. "Maybe you should cook something, or I'll have to go get dinner too. Would probably have to wait a while before it's ready."

Seriously, she wanted to grab that kitchen knife on the bench and plunge it into his heart, but she was charmed against that too. Unfortunately that would probably extend to poisoning him too.

"Actually, don't bother. Bring me a glass," he called from the other room.

With a sigh, she did as she was bid and when she got into the living room, he turned a chair around and sat down heavily in it. "Dance."

Hermione froze, the glass still in her hand. This is what he'd seen her do for Marcus.

"What are you waiting for? Glass," he said, holding out his hand. Hermione walked over and placed it in his hand.

She really didn't want to do this, but she'd done this before. "Fine," she said and pressed down her revulsion, exactly as she had before. What else could she do? So she danced, and Draco watched and drank.

As before, it was extremely uncomfortable having him watch her, so she closed her eyes and imagined music she liked played in her head.

"Why do you close your eyes?"

"So I can be away from here."

"And where would you like to be?"

"I don't know. A beach party, maybe."

"Then why did you come here?"

"I don't know. I wanted to see the jacarandas."

"You came here to see trees?" he said with incredulity.

"Its not the season for them yet. I was going to wait for them."

"You chose to come here for the trees?"

"I said it was one of the reasons. Also, it was really far away from England, which was a distinct bonus. Why? Where would you have gone?"

"I wouldn't."

"If it had turned and gone the other way—"

"It wouldn't have."

"—where would you have gone? It wasn't as if you could claim you were an innocent bystander in all this. You were practically running the war."

"Which clearly means I wouldn't have lost."

"You know what, never mind," she said tartly.

"Why don't you shut up and get back to dancing?" he replied harshly.

Then stop asking questions, she wanted to shout, but knew it would only escalate things, and it was in her best interest not to have him agitated. It wouldn't work out well for her. Then again, who said this evening was going to work out well for her. All this would reach its inevitable conclusion, and there wasn't much she could do about it. The whole point of this was to that he was in control.

Suddenly, he rose. "I want to go out."

Hermione stopped dancing. "Where?"

"Does it matter? Stay behind if you wish." Without waiting, he walked out the door to the apartment, and she quickly grabbed a cardigan that belonged to whoever lived here. The panic that he would walk outside of the charm limit gripped her and she rushed after him, knowing he wouldn't wait for her. If she lost him, she'd probably have a horrific evening.

It was still light outside when she reached the street. Draco was walking and she ran to reach him. He suddenly stopped. "This won't do," he said and pulled out his wand and pointed it to her. Instinctively, her hand went up in front of her, but the spell hit her in the stomach, working its way across her. When she looked down, she saw a horrific short, pink metallic dress. "That's better, don't you think?" he said with a smirk.

Did he have really bad taste, or did he do this because he knew she'd hate it? She was even wearing white, strappy heels. She never wore heels. This was a cobbled street. Seriously, how cruel can you be? "I hate you," she muttered at his back as he walked away.

It didn't take too long before they came across the dark and relatively unassuming door of a club. The bouncer gave it away, along with the line of girls dressed just like her. The bouncer pulled back the rope for him even before Draco had reached it. Was that magic? Or did he just look like the kind of rich prick this place wanted? Probably the latter.

The doorway led down a dark stairway with shiny dark mirrors. Music grew louder and the club darker, with lights flashing. Too loud to talk. A blond girl greeted them and led them to a table with seats circling it. From the look of her, she wasn't local. More girls came, and they honed in on the rich prick. Clearly, they were professional hang out girls, she guessed. This was so not her scene, so she didn't know how things worked, but in this dress, she looked like a hanger on of no consequence. Hermione took a seat and fruitlessly tried to pull the insanely short dress down. Was this what he was into? Girls basically paid to adore him, and ice buckets of severely marked up bubbly?

The girls were all over him, but he didn't respond, just let them. Was this something he did, go to clubs and let muggle girls fuss over him? England would be full of clubs like this. It was a ubiquitous thing around the world.

This so wasn't her thing.

"Dance," he mouthed and she got up and did, a couple of girls joining her. Seriously, she wasn't sure her opinion of Draco could get worse, but it just had.

At times, though, she noted that he looked bored. The girls drank his expensive bubbly and fawned over him, but he didn't seem to particularly enjoy it. So why had he brought her here? Was this about showing her her place? Whatever. His opinion had never mattered to her before. That wasn't going to change now.

As she danced, she wondered what would be a complete turn off for him. The girls fawning over him certainly bored him, but it would just be weird if she did it. Whiny and clingy tended to work. Jealous and demanding. Although that had seemed like Draco's girlfriends back at Hogwarts. A chuckle escaped her. What she really needed to do to get rid of him was to act like his girlfriend. Just as adoring as these girls were, and as interested as rewards.

The whole girlfriend things was the sticking point. It was basically how she'd dealt with Flint, but this was Malfoy. She just needed to force herself to do it. Nothing had changed. It was pride or freedom—except with him, it was so hard to put her pride to side. Pride had been the lynchpin in their relationship. His and hers, and it always had been.