Chapter 26

Draco stared at Hermione's still form on the floor just outside his door, not entirely sure why he'd reacted the way he had. Because he hadn't known what else to do. She'd challenged him and he'd lashed out. With a sigh, he put his wand away. This seemed to be how he responded to everything.

Stepping to her, he lifted her up and carried her to the green velvet settee inside his room. She looked like snow white as she lay there unconscious. Unnaturally pale, but a rosy tint to her cheeks that complemented her brown hair. It wasn't often he could simply look at her. Most of his life, he'd made a point of not looking at her.

There was something dark and unnatural between them. Not something he understood, but it was there. However, he had her, he'd won, but now didn't know what to do with her. This victory didn't feel like a victory. Just another continuation of the war between them.

"Will I ever be free of you?" he asked, but got no response. Actually, it was quite nice like this. Her there, but not. Like a moment of peace after endless chaos.

Returning to his desk, he continued to write. Instructions for his team at the Ministry, which he'd utterly neglected. In some ways, he'd been on a bender and now he was back, with the unconscious form of his enemy on his settee. No, the bender was still continuing, but something felt resolved within the turmoil which still existed.

Shifting in his chair, he looked back at her again. She hadn't moved. It really was peaceful like this. He knew where she was, and what she was doing. He returned to his letter.

It didn't feel particularly satisfying that he was hurting her all the time. It felt like a reaction, and he didn't like it. Only idiots acted by reaction, but he seemed to be that way with her. Probably because no one got under his skin like she did.

She snuffled. The peace was over and he groaned silently. True, she was the most annoying person in the world.

"Don't move."

A small moan escaped her.

"Don't move," he repeated.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

He could hear her offense in her exhale. Without looking, he knew she was staring daggers at him. It might even be that she wished to hurt him, but couldn't. His charm forbid her. "What would you do right now if you could?"

"What do you mean?"

"What would you do to me right now if you could?" He didn't bother to turn to look at her.

"A nasty hex, something that stung and would continue to do so?"

"Really? I expected something more… injurious."

"I'm not like you."

"Aren't you?" Now he turned around to look at her. "You weren't exactly a pacifist during the war."

"Pacifists don't survive a way."

"You weren't a pacifist before either. Potter was more of a pacifist, only he wasn't allowed to be. Any offensive planning came from you."

Now she didn't respond, only stared at him with narrowed eyes.

Draco got up and poured himself a drink and then returned to his letter.

"So where am I staying?"

"I haven't decided yet. I might put you in the owlery. You'd stink, of course, which is perfectly suitable, but then I think that it might end up affecting me, and that gives me pause."

"How about you don't let it affect you?" she said tartly. Then she groaned a little as if she was having a conversation with herself. "Although for someone of my position, better accommodation is expected."

"Maybe I should put you in with my father," he said viciously.

Now she didn't respond. Did that mean she wanted to be? Did she hope he'd do more for her, exactly like she'd hoped Flint would have? Hermione Granger used people, and they were too stupid to see it. "Go clean up for supper."

"You wish me to dine with you?"

"No," he said with a snort. "I'm going to show you off like a prize. A conquest," he finished. There was still a small thrill in putting her in her place, but there was also something very uncomfortable about it now, because he had power over her. Complete power. The limits were off. He could make her do anything.

She rose from her seat and walked to the door. Where she was going, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't sorry she was gone. The itch to hurt her rose again and he tightened his fist. He'd like to say it was a response to the war, but that would be a lie, the urge to lash out against her had existed before the war had.

What was true was the moment of peace had given to rage. But he also knew that the rage wasn't aimed at her, it was aimed at everything else. The war, at Voldemort, and the weak fucking people that had let him rise. Also at how scared he'd been at the beginning of the war. How weak he'd been. He was stronger now. But that strength was a detriment now that the war was over. The armor he'd built was something he couldn't shed.

Finishing the letter, he left it on the silver tray for the servants to post. The careless way things got posted here probably meant that Hermione could easily slip a letter out, but who would she write to? Flint? She had run out of people. And those still alive wouldn't risk everything to help her. They hadn't before, they certainly wouldn't now, because there wasn't anywhere he couldn't find her.

Tiredness washed over him, but it wasn't time to rest yet. Instead he drank more and watched as the light faded outside, where the melted statue had been restored by someone. All inconveniences wiped away and hidden.

When it was time to go downstairs, he did, finding his mother and father there, and Hermione sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. Seems she'd found a dress somewhere, or had that been his mother's suggestion. Normally Hermione wouldn't make an effort, but perhaps this was a survival tactic for her. Or was she dressing up for someone?

Placing his whiskey glass on the table, he sat down heavily.

"Draco," his father said in his customary greeting, but there was a tension in the room, and Hermione was the reason. Did his father feel uncomfortable having his paramour in the same room as his wife?

"I think we should start," his mother said and rang the bell, which told the servants they were ready. Food was quickly delivered in customary silence, and they ate. It pleased him a little to think how hungry Hermione would be right them, watching them eat. Maybe he should bring her to the table.

"I see a new shop has opened in Diagon Alley. It's about time tenants are moving into some of the vacated shops."

"Slave, dance," Draco called. For a moment, Hermione didn't react, but he couldn't have been talking about anyone else, so she rose and started dancing.

A tense silence had descended around the table. His father saw, but he didn't linger.

"I think a sense of normalcy is what we need right now," Narcissa continued.

"I think perhaps you should keep your playthings in your room," Lucius stated.

"Does it bother you? I can have her undress."

"Draco!" his mother warned.

"But you've seen that before, haven't you?"

"Purile accusations are uncalled for," Lucius said tartly.

"Where does father keep his playthings? Aren't you the least bit curious how she lost her tracker, when there's only one person who would dare remove it? Shall we ask her what she needed to do to remove it? Oh, but she'd lie. Do you think she'd lie to protect you?"

"I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."

Draco wanted to destroy the table and everything else in the room, but instead he pulled out the vial in his pocket. "Let's put the theory to the test, shall we? I'm sure mother wants to know. Come here, slave."

Hermione hesitated, but she knew she'd suffer right now if she defied him, so she moved closer.

"Open your mouth."

"Draco," Lucius warned. "This is grotesque."

"Curious word, grotesque." His whole body was lit with anger and he rose and poured the veritaserum into her mouth. It took a few moments to work, but he was so impatient right now. "Who took your tracker off?" He already knew the answer.

"Lucius Malfoy," she said.

"Draco, stop this," his mother said, but Draco ignored her.

"And what did you have to do in return for such a favor?"

"Never come back."

Now that hadn't been the answer he expected, but he also knew Hermione was smart enough to evade answering. "What else?"

"Leave England."

"Why would he do that for you?"

"So you would forget about me," she answered.

That really wasn't the answer he expected.

"He's afraid you're a tad unhinged," she said tartly. The veritaserum didn' t diminish her capacity to be snarky. "And that I'm the cause."

A laugh escaped him and he had no control over it. It wasn't true. Well, it was true to some extent, but to an idiotic underrepresentation of what was going on.

"Darling, I think we've had enough of this," his mother said. "We all need some calm."

"I don't need calm, Mother, like an overwrought child."

"They fear you're self-destructive."

"Shut up!"

"And that I was making it worse. Am making it worse. You gave me the serum. And yes, maybe it's in my nature to make it worse. Although you seem to be doing a proficient job entirely on your own. I certainly don't mind watching you implode in front of your parents. Go ahead and blow your brains out."

"Let's have some dessert. Sponge cake. You were always a fan."

Draco didn't know who to deal with in the circus of insanity.

"I'm going to rape you."

"Fuck you!"

"Draco!" his mother yelled. "We do not… I don't know what to say. Say something!" she demanded of her husband.

"I think now, as I did then, that we are all better off without Miss Granger's company."

"Fuck off!" he yelled at all of them, but grabbed Granger by the arm and dragged her out. She was trying to fight. Cute, but utterly ineffective.

A/N Apologies for slowing down in posting. I have long covid, and it's robbed me of writing mojo. Slowly recuperating.