Eros & Psyche Chapter 11: Revelations - Part II, a harry potter fanfic

CONTEST WINNERS THIS CHAPTER: AngryCheeseBalls and MightyBluePen recommended the song,"Addicted" by Saving Abel. So, this chapter is dedicated to AngryCheeseBalls and MightyBluePen - congratulations! Lyrics for that song appear at the bottom of this chapter. Hope you'll find this song somehow and give it a listen.

Remember, I'll accept song suggestions for each couple, as well as digitally manipulated images of live people and your original hand-drawn or digitally drawn fanart for this story up until the end of this fic is published. SEND ME YOUR LISTS OR ARTWORK to: rzzmg at yahoo dot com.

THANK YOU to my amazing, lovely beta, gjeangirl! This chapter is also dedicated to you! *KISSES*

Other Notes for this chapter: A "sweet trap" is a term from Napoleonic era for a scheme that dangles something you desire in front of your eyes, luring you in until there's no escape.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: Revelations - Part II

(real date and time unknown)

Draco was enraged. He was seeing fucking red.

Toss 'Eros' and his demented, sadistic plans! There was absolutely no way this side of Hell he was letting Granger go now. The bloody bastard would have to kill him first.

"Swap partners with the remaining couple."

Bullshit. No way.

"That came from the Interrogations deck, right?" the Brown witch asked, leaning forward in her seat and pointing at the card in Hermione's hand. "I thought all cards from that deck were supposed to be phrased as questions, with the lead in, 'If you had to…'."

Across the way, Granger suddenly became animated.

"You're absolutely right!" With a brilliant grin, she tossed the card down on the table. "Sorry, Eros, but you're bound by the rules you established. Therefore, this card is invalid!"

The tight knot that had taken up residence within Draco's chest at the thought of his witch and his best friend being partnered up for the remainder of the game suddenly went loose, allowing him to regain his breath.

"Thank fuck," he hissed.

Granger's expression mirrored his thoughts. "As a Captain, you have to make that determination official for it to count, though," she reminded him.

Draco nodded. "I say the card breaks the rules and is out." He glanced over at Potter. "You agree?"

Wonder Boy grinned. "Absolutely."

"Good. It's gone." He glanced over at Granger, and saw her shoot a worried eye over at Zabini's room. Clearly, his partner would want to check up on her friend in the next room, and he wanted to talk to Blaise about what had happened to the She-Weasel. "We'll take a breather before we draw the replacement card," he decided on the fly. "Thirty minutes everyone."

As several members of the group got up to head for the loo or to the food table, he crossed over to Granger and took her in his arms. Just holding her was enough to calm the demons rolling around inside him.

"I was confident we'd either find a way out of it or around it," she whispered to him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her cheek against his heart. "We're smarter than any moldy, old dark wizard."

"And undoubtedly better looking," he pointed out the obvious.

She chuckled. "You are the vainest man I know, Draco Malfoy."

He burrowed his face into her fragrant hair, reveling in the sexy scent of it. "With a face and body like mine, do you blame me?" he teased.

She lightly thumped him on the back. "Come on, Romeo, I want to check on Ginny."

They made their way over to Zabini's room, her hand firmly held in his, their fingers entwined. The connection felt right to Draco, as he'd always known it would. It confirmed for him what he'd always suspected: Hermione Granger was his other half, and she'd been meant for him regardless of—or perhaps, because of—her family's non-magical status. She was the much-needed diversity that would shake up the Malfoy and Black family trees, infusing them with fresh blood and strong magic. And one day, their sons and daughters would rule wizarding England...

"Where have you gone?" she asked him, stopping him just before they went through the open doorway into Zabini's room. She looked up at him with curiosity. "Lost in Slytherin daydreams of conquest again?"

It was a joke, he knew, but there was just enough truth in her playful accusation to score a hit. He winced. She knew him too well, it seemed.

"Always." He reached out and tenderly stroked down her cheek. "It's what Malfoys do second best."

"Dare I ask what takes top prize?"

His smirk was teased to life once more. Granger had the most amazing ability to draw him away from sharper, darker thoughts and drag him into her circle of light. She could also amuse him at the drop of a hat.

"You'll see, beautiful. Soon."

It was a promise, not just a boast.

From the way her gaze heated, he knew she understood all too well what he'd been implying, too.

Tearing his attention away from her loveliness before he lost himself in it once more, he glanced over at his best friend through the open doorway. Zabini was kneeling at the side of his bed, leaning over the She-Weasel, whispering to her and petting her long, crimson hair away from her face in a calming, soothing gesture. Clearly, the man had lost all his common sense and was over the moon for his little, red bird in the same way Draco had fallen for his partner.

What was it about a lion that it could so easily draw a snake from its den, he wondered.

Granger released him to rush to her girl friend's side. She took up a spot at the end of the bed, sitting down carefully so as not to jostle Weasley with her weight.

"Gin?"

There was a wealth of emotion contained in just that one word: fear, concern, and a sliver of hope.

"Hey, 'Mione," the other witch replied, sounding exhausted. "I'm okay. Not sure what happened, though."

Granger explained to her and Zabini both what was going on with the cards, and her supposition about them being trapped inside a horcrux.

"What does this 'Eros' want?" Blaise demanded then, outraged. "Why toy with us?"

"We're not sure," Draco said, crossing over to his friend, "but it's clear he wants to make us suffer for something."

With a wordless nudge of his chin and a nod of his head, he indicated Zabini should leave his vigil at his witch's side and cross the room to him so they could discuss something private. His friend seemed reluctant to do as requested, but did eventually give in. With soft reassurances that he'd be back, he disentangled his hand from the Weasley girl's, and adjusting the ties on his robes to assure they were cinched tight to cover his nakedness underneath, he crossed to where Draco stood just outside the room's doorway.

"Tell me you have a plan to fuck this 'Eros' hard in the arse," Blaise growled in a low tone, assuring the others in the vicinity couldn't overhear them.

Draco sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He was exhausted from having been on his feet for far too many hours, and getting off a few times tonight had only hastened his body's need for sleep. Clearly, the Rejuvenation Potion he'd taken earlier had worn off, and now it was all starting to catch up.

"Remember that time in fifth year—Umbridge and Ravenclaw's party?" he asked, speaking in a code he knew his friend would understand. It wasn't safe to say aloud his plans; he wasn't sure Eros wasn't eavesdropping on every one of their conversations.

Blaise would get the reference, though, if he remembered the time they'd lured ol' Pinky down to the dungeons and then locked her inside an old, forgotten broom cupboard, all so they could get her out of the way. She'd stood between them and a banging party in Ravenclaw's tower that night which no Slytherin in his right mind had any intention of missing, so Draco, Blaise, Theo, Greg, and Vince had worked out a plan to take the bitch out of their way for the evening. And it had worked brilliantly. Dolores had followed the incorporeal voice Theo had spelled into life, summoning her down the stairs and through the twisty maze of the Hogwarts basement...and right into the open cupboard. In the darkness of the small space, Greg had stolen her wand from her hand and then Vince had slammed the door shut once Greg had cleared the closet. One strong locking charm by Blaise later, and the five friends had gone along their merry way, none the worse for wear.

The same couldn't have been said for Umbridge, however. She hadn't been let out until the following morning by Filch, who'd heard her banging and screeching away, begging for release. It turned out the freaky 'cat lady' had a mite touch of claustrophobia...

Blaise raised an eyebrow to Draco's ambitious idea. "Do I have to point out that Umbridge was solid?"

"So's a piece of a soul," Draco pointed out. "Otherwise, it wouldn't require a horcrux to house and protect it."

He'd known the moment Granger had used the word 'horcrux' that they were in very, serious danger.

The first time he'd ever heard the term had been when he'd eavesdropped on an argument between his mother and father one night during the summer before his second year at Hogwarts. At that time, his mother had mentioned "the horcrux in our house" and had demanded Lucius get rid of it immediately, as the Ministry was conducting sweeps and she feared they would be arrested for "having that...thing" in their home. From the fear in his mother's voice, Draco had naturally assumed a 'horcrux' had been just another dark artefact his parents had kept hidden in the secret space behind a shelf in the family library—the space his father had shown him once when he'd been ten and warned him never to open on his own or to speak about openly—and so he'd given it no more thought.

...Until he and the rest of his fifth year D.A.D.A. class had been assigned by Umbridge to do a research paper on dark artefacts and how to spot them, and he'd gotten the bright idea of getting the top mark in their grade on that project (to impress Granger, of course) by researching the item that had once made his dragon-like mother so afraid. He'd spent weeks in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library looking for any hint of the word 'horcrux', skiving off some of his duties as Prefect, spending whole evenings reading by the light of a dimmed lantern so he wouldn't get caught by Filch or Pince, and fighting off headaches and frustration when his exhausted eyes would begin to transpose letters, turning them around on him.

Eventually, when that monumental effort had provided disappointingly little in the way of a solid explanation as to what precisely a 'horcrux' was, he'd swallowed his pride and asked Snape. With a warning not to cite the source of his knowledge of such a dark art, his godfather had reluctantly loaned him Godelot's book to answer all his questions.

As he recalled reading that tome now, years later, he again felt that cold shiver run up and down his spine.

It had taken a whole weekend and two complete readings of Magick Moste Evile for him to fully appreciate just how far down the abyss the former 'Dark Lords' and 'Dark Queens' of their world—Voldemort, Grindelwald, Raczidian, Morgan la Fay, Herpo the Foul...even Godelot, himself—had gone in their thirst for power. Killing innocents with an Avada and communing with the dead on Samhain night had only been the tip of the iceberg into the true black arts, it turned out.

Days after he'd shut the book and locked it away in his trunk, he'd suffered nightmarish visions of elaborate and sinister sacrificial rituals involving tearing the beating hearts from the chests of living victims to drink up their magical power and bathe in their blood, and of summoning gargantuan eldritch beings from their restless slumber deep within the earth and using them to crush whole cities to force the subjugation of millions, and of commanding shambling, unstoppable Inferi as his undead army to send across the land to terrorize and destroy the rebellious.

What had been most horrifying to him is that a small, dark part of him had actually been tempted by those visions.

In the end, Draco didn't write the paper, and he'd returned the borrowed book to Snape as quickly as possible, squashing the temptation to take up the dark arts by concentrating instead on a plan to win Hermione Granger's affections...

"Have you talked to Theo about any of this yet?" Blaise asked him, interrupting his thoughts.

He glanced across the room to his childhood friend where he stood beside Greengrass. The two looked deep in discussion, away from the others. "Not yet. Aside from me and Granger, only Theo and Daphne are left," he said. "Everyone else forfeited."

Blaise began swearing. "You'd better win this, Draco, and soon. I need to get Ginevra to the infirmary. She needs a Blood Replenshing potion and to be under a healer's care." He looked through the open doorway at his partner. "I can't lose her now."

Draco raised an eyebrow to that, but Zabini wasn't as forthcoming about his feelings as Theo, Vince, or Greg had ever been. His expression, however, was of a deep concern, anguish almost. He'd never seen Blaise so torn up over anyone.

He turned his attention to Granger. She was holding the She-Weasel's hand and talking to her friend in gentle tones, coaxing a small laugh from the redhead, even. God, she was beautiful. And so sincere, compassionate, courageous, and as sharp as a whip. Was it possible to love her anymore than he did right then?

"Yeah," he agreed with Blaise's sentiment. "I get that."

They shared a silent look of mutual understanding.

"I'll win this," he promised his friend. "No matter what."

Blaise nodded, taking him at his word, knowing a Malfoy vow wasn't something given lightly. It was gold, class A, fucking sacred, as far as Draco was concerned.

Meus mos est vox.

"Even so, this place has to have an exit somewhere," he reassured them both with a sideways glance at the deck sitting inert on the coffee table. "We got in, so we should be able to get back out the same way. Worst case scenario, we leg it to that doorway and fight our way free."

He glanced around, seeking any crack in the illusion or any possibly hint of an exit, noting the white ceiling, white walls, and the white furniture at the same time.

Funny how the place was so very dull to him now that he was really looking—as if it was taking this 'Eros' a tremendous amount of energy just to generate the illusion of the Room of Requirement and to meet the game's other needs. That kind of concentration and effort had to be exhausting...draining.

—Which wasn't a good thing for a mere sliver of a soul, for it was, after all, only a small particle of energy with no way to recharge.

Draco examined that thought a little more closely, even as he continued to scan the room for magical fissures or splits, which would indicate a weakening in the spell that held them captive.

After reading the chapters in Magick Moste Evile on the properties and making of horcruxes, as well as the pages of information Godelot included of his personal study on the magical science and philosophy of life and white magic, Draco now understood that the soul of a living being was an infinite powerhouse of energy that could be tapped into for one's magical needs...but only as long as the soul being used remained inert. Physical deeds—efforts like aging, having sex, giving birth, fighting off illness, going for a jog, casting magic, etcetera—depleted a soul's energy over time. Eventually, the cauldron would run dry. Then, the witch or wizard died, and the remnant of their soul was then pulled out of this world and past the Veil of Death to do...whatever it was it needed to do in there.

Yet, they weren't dealing with an undivided, intact soul here inside the horcrux, were they? It was only a piece of the whole, and not connected to a living body, which meant it had even less stored energy than normal.

The piece of Eros that was having a laugh at their expense tonight was slowly, steadily using up all its vitality. Eventually, it would burn out.

Too bad for him, Draco thought with a sadistic smirk. He hoped that energy loss hurt the fucker.

The real question, however, was really how much "life" Eros' piece of soul had left in it, because: one, Draco was betting that the moment the energy loss became significant enough, the illusion would fall, and then they'd all have their chance to escape the deck, and two, a person was more willing to do something unforgivable and desperate when they were running out of time.

The closer they were to possibly escaping the deck, the more dangerous things would become for them all.

They had to be ready...

"What is it?" Blaise asked him, noting Draco's contemplative silence.

"Just wondering how much longer Eros can keep this game up," he replied. "The piece of his soul trapped in here, causing all this shit, it's being sucked dry by throwing all this magic around. Why risk that?"

Blaise shrugged his massive shoulders. "That answer depends on what Eros' end game is."

Draco nodded. "He's after something, something he needs from us, specifically."

Otherwise, why bother with such an elaborate ruse? Why, as Granger had so aptly pointed out earlier, give each couple everything they'd ever wanted and then...

He paused, mulling that thought over.

"Blaise, would you say you've been given your heart's greatest desire tonight?" he asked, glancing into the guy's private room at the redhead lying on the bed under a set of seriously rumpled sheets.

Without pause, Blaise nodded. His gaze followed Draco's, resting upon his partner.

"Yes."

His friend offered nothing more, but Draco knew that for Zabini, that single word was a declaration.

"Mmm," he agreed. "I'm betting it's the same for the rest of the group as well."

Blaise coldly smirked. "A 'sweet trap'. Clever bastard."

"So, the lure's been cast and the bait taken...by all of us," Potter stated, coming up behind them, obviously having heard enough of the conversation to butt in. The guy glanced over his shoulder at his own partner, who was currently deep in discussion with Lavender Brown across the room. "What'll be the price, I wonder."

Draco had an idea, but he kept that bit to himself.

If there was one thing he'd learned from reading Godelot's book, it was that splitting your soul wasn't just painful, it was problematic for the dark witch or wizard who'd been fool enough to attempt it, as the 'loose' piece of soul was never content. It would always try to find a way to re-enter a living vessel. Whether that drive was instinct or cosmic design or restlessness or simply a kind of magnetic attraction of like energies, who could say, but it was a fact that souls, even pieces of them, didn't favour existing outside a warm body and they fought with everything they had to get back into one.

Of course, that fact was terribly inconvenient for the dark wizard or witch who intended to use the energy from that piece of soul later to restore their youth.

Hence the reason horcruxes were invented...

He glanced at the deck on the table again.

An object cursed to act as a horcrux wasn't just a means of protecting a piece of soul, but also a means of preventing that piece of soul from moving around on its own, from seeking a new body to possess. Horcruxes kept a piece of soul under lock-down until it's owner was ready to use it for his or her purposes. They were prisons, not castles. In their case, the horcrux had been a very cleverly concealed penitentiary. Who'd ever suspect a deck of cards meant to sexually and romantically connect people would house a cursed object?

Had Madam Aset or her friend, the one who'd owned the deck, known what the deck really was, as if so, why would either of them set him up to encounter a horcrux, especially one that housed a psychopath murderer?

Had she known? If so, that meant...

"Did who know what?" Potter asked him.

It took Draco a moment to realise he'd asked the question aloud. "Madam Aset," he explained, "When she gave me the deck, had she known it was a horcrux?"

"You think she set you up?" Scarhead asked.

"An hour ago, I'd have said 'no', but now..." Draco shook his head, wanting to disbelieve that his former lover could have fucked him over so badly. "I'm not so sure."

As a former client of the Madam as well, Blaise did as Draco had been doing all night: automatically opened his mouth to jump to Sabrina's defence. To Draco's surprise, however, his friend actually paused, seemingly uncertain himself as to Sabrina's intentions now that the question had been asked and doubt cast upon her motives. A skeptical look passed over his features as he jerked his gaze to the deck and studied it from afar.

"She's the most powerful Sex-Witch in the world, according to the Ministry," he muttered, obviously struggling with the possibility of misplaced loyalty, the same as Draco was just then. "You'd think she'd have felt something amiss with the cards."

"Mmm," Draco agreed once more. "Given how she's tuned in to magical energies around her in a way normal witches and wizards aren't, it does seem odd that she hadn't felt any residual energy from an item cursed by a dark ritual."

"Why?" Potter asked. "None of us felt‒"

He paused, too, then shut his mouth. That same doubt passed through his eyes, then, as his thoughts turned inward.

"What?" Draco prodded his rival.

Potter reached up and stroked over the disfiguring mark on his forehead. "It's...nothing."

Zabini made a tetchy-growly noise. "Yes, clearly, because you touch your scar every time you feel normal. Everyone knows that."

Gryffindor's Captain threw his hands in the air. "Fine, it's just that earlier tonight, I was having a serious discussion with Tracey about magical secrets...about names, you know? And something inside me‒" He shook his head. "It's hard to explain, but there was this...voice. It was nudging me to do what Tracey wanted and bind me to a name. But something else inside me was telling me not to do it. It's like I just knew not to—not here, not tonight, anyway." He shook his head. "And I've felt off all night, too. More moody than usual." He glanced at Draco. "It's the influence of the soul inside here with us, isn't it?"

Draco nodded, but his mind was elsewhere just then. Something Potter had said had floored him.

"You don't have a True Wizarding Name."

It wasn't question.

His oldest rival looked up at him, suddenly wary. He pursed his lips together to form a hard line of them, as if he was going to refuse to discuss it, but for some unfathomable reason, the guy changed his mind at the last second. "No, I don't have a T.W.N. It's not as if I have parents to perform the ritual now, is it?" He sounded resentful. When he looked away a moment later, it was clear that he was also embarrassed, and a little angry that Draco was nosing in on his private business. "Hell, I didn't even know what one was until tonight." He crossed his arms and thrust his jaw out, daring Draco to say something insulting. "And anyway, I'm of age now, so it hardly matters."

Actually, it did. Quite a lot, in fact, because there was no way this side of Hades the Ministry would have let an underage wizard run around without a mechanism for reining him in...if they had known.

—Which meant Dumbledore had to have been keeping Potter and everyone else ignorant of the Golden Boy's unrestrained status.

Well, well. How interesting.

And yeah, it had to have been the Headmaster behind the conspiracy, because Lucius was on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and Draco knew just enough about what went on behind the scenes to know that 'Twinkly Eyes' Dumbly-dore approved every accepted invitation to the school personally. Part of the admissions process, per the Board's adopted standards, was that parents (or guardians, or a Ministry-approved contact, depending upon a child's circumstances) had to personally attest to having magically bound prospective students to a T.W.N. before ever hopping on the train at King's Cross Station.

So, if Potter hadn't been bound, then Dumbledore knew it. Furthermore, the Headmaster must have gone through some extreme lengths to hide that knowledge from the Improper Use of Magic Office, too, else Potter would have been found out long before now and forced to go through the binding.

Why had the Headmaster protected Potter?

Rather than give into his curiosity and dig for answers, Draco shelved the discussion for the time being. There were more impressing matters to consider at the moment. "You didn't miss anything, I assure you. And as for feeling moody, you're not the only one who's out of sorts tonight."

Potter indicated the hand Draco had previously injured. "No, really? You think?"

Zabini snorted, rising to Draco's defence. "Slytherins are supposed to be prickly. It's beaten into us by our parents at an early age. What's your excuse, Captain Fantastic?"

To say Blaise was a big fellow was an understatement. He was massive, actually, with a set of shoulders on him that had a rather nasty reputation for checking Chasers, Beaters, and Keepers on the pitch, easily knocking them from their brooms (well, all except the She-Weasel, who'd held her own against the man, but Draco suspected that was because she was faster and more agile than Zabini on a broom and had managed to avoid getting bumped more often than not). Blaise also stood a good deal taller than almost everyone else in the group, and his glares were known to cause fifth years to lose their bowels.

Therefore, it was something impressive to watch Potter refuse to back down before the guy.

"I don't like my friends to be in danger, my ex-girlfriend harmed, or to be provoked," Scarhead icily informed him, his gaze as flat as a serpent's. "It tends to make me...mean."

Draco smirked, remembering Davis' confession earlier that night, and the awful revelation left unspoken about a certain someone's Sorting mishap.

"That's right. Snakes don't like to be cornered, do they, Potter?" he said, pushing that button with a touch of sadistic glee.

The other man's hands clenched into fists at his side, and his green eyes flared with indignation. "Neither do lions," he reminded them, refusing to acknowledge the side of him that burned with Slytherin's dark ambition.

"Harry?"

Davis' summons came at just the right moment.

"How fortuitous," Draco murmured, turning to glance over his shoulder at the witch as she approached. "Saved from the Beast by the Beauty."

Potter actually growled at that.

Draco chuckled. Upsetting Gryffindor's Boy Wonder never got old.

"Harry, can you come help me with something?" Tracey requested, reaching her partner and taking his hand. She uncurled his fingers, diffusing his need for violence, and then entwined their hands together. "Over here, please," she asked, pulling Potter away, towards a private section of the room.

When they were out of earshot, Blaise shook his head and rolled his eyes. "We keep that up, he's going to fuck us up one day, you know?"

Draco sniffed, amused at the thought. "Not if he wants to keep on Granger and the She-Weasel's Christmas lists, he won't."

Blaise shrugged. "Whatever. I have to get back." Once more, as if against his will, the guy's gaze sought out his partner where she lay weak and vulnerable on their bed. "She needs me."

"Go, then," Draco encouraged him, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "If the game gets rough, I'll come find you." He turned and whistled for Granger's attention, holding his hand out to her. "Time to get back to it."

His partner patted Girl-Weasley on the hand, said her goodbyes for the now, and stood up, crossing the distance to him. "You needn't have whistled. I'm not a dog, you know," she said, clearly irritated with his antics. She refused his hand and walked past him with a disdainful sniff, heading for the couches in the main room.

Zabini laughed. "No, but I suspect someone here is in the dog house for being such an arse."

"Fuck off," Draco growled, realising that sooner or later his mouth was going to get him into trouble if he kept antagonizing everyone with it. He chanced a quick look at Granger: her back was ramrod straight as she marched away from him, and her fingernails were biting into her palms.

Sometimes, falling back on bad habits were all that saved a man, he knew from experience, but there were times, like now, when he felt he'd just be better off gluing his fucking lips shut.

Sighing, he mentally prepared himself for groveling.

Blaise left him to his own devices then with a backwards wave, returning to the side of his lover. The guy shut and locked the door behind him for privacy. Draco turned back to the main room, determined to fix things with Granger.

She was sitting on the back of a sofa, nibbling on a stray piece of hair, her gaze far away as she turned over thoughts in that amazing brain of hers. Gently, Draco extracted the hair from her mouth.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to belittle or embarrass you."

Her eyes shifted to his. "What? Oh. That." She shrugged, clearly distracted by other thoughts at the moment. "You're forgiven."

"Just like that?" Honestly, he was shocked with how easily it was to receive such a thing considering how deplorable he'd treated her. His mother, a big believer in manners, would have slapped him hard had he done such a thing in front of her. "You were right. It wasn't a very respectful or courteous thing to summon you in such a manner."

"No, it wasn't," she confirmed. "Don't do it again."

Draco took her hand in his and bent over it, placing an apologetic kiss over the backs of the knuckles. "You have my promise it will never happen again." He cradled her hand against his heart. "Now, tell me what has you so disturbed."

Granger glanced up at him again, and their eyes met...and he knew she was going to lie to him.

"It's...nothing."

Salazar's bones, she'd sounded just like Potter. What, did Gryffindors read from the same script when it came to dodging a hex?

Rather than estrange her by demanding the truth, however, Draco decided to let her fib slide this time. Hermione Granger was a woman with secrets that ran deep; eventually, however, she would tell them all to him...in her own time. He just had to be patient and wait her out, just as he'd always done with her.

"You know what I can't get past: why Madam Aset would offer you the deck in the first place."

The sudden topic switch was abrupt enough to send Draco's head spinning, but his Slytherin training had him well-equipped for handling diversionary tactics by others. He was able to bounce right into the new discussion with little pause. "I told you, Sabrina and I are friends. I asked her for a way to win your attention. She recommended the game as a good way to create intimacy between us." He looked around at the room once more, noting where the other couples were, and that he and Granger were relatively far enough away from them all that what they were saying couldn't be easily overheard. "The only unfortunate aspect to it was that it's a game that requires multiple couples to play it at the same time together, and that as such, there was a possibility of us not being paired up." He looked down at her and kissed the back of her hand again. "Fortunately, it worked out in our favour."

"Conveniently so," she pointed out, echoing his earlier conversation with Zabini.

"Mmm," he agreed. "I'm not complaining, though. Are you?"

Come to think of it, why would Sabrina offer the deck to him at all? There were at least a dozen other types of magical means out there in the world to enchant a lover—hell, even other games she might have submitted for his consideration, knowing his plans to woo Hermione. Why 'Eros & Psyche', specifically?

His partner looked up at him once more, her gaze a whirlpool of swirling, complex emotions that had always drawn him in...

In truth, Granger's intelligence wasn't the most attractive thing about her, he'd always thought, and for that matter neither was her wand skill. And although he found her to be stunning to behold, he'd slept with more classically beautiful witches who'd had far more money and important political connections as well. So it really wasn't her book knowledge, her magical prowess, her beauty, or her positioning in the world that had collared him...although each of those traits and talents were more than enough on their own to capture his heart. No, the real reason he was drawn into this witch's circle time and again had to do with a much more seductive, and simultaneously daunting explanation: she was a woman with insanely complicated dimensions. Deep emotions, secret thoughts, and profound philosophies writhed around inside Hermione Granger, each struggling for primacy. Multifarious to the core, she was a Pandora puzzle box, and Draco had decided years ago that opening each and every one of her layers, unfolding them with care and discovering them completely, would be his life's greatest pursuit.

What that kind of interest said about him, honestly, he didn't care. He knew he was a creature that ambitiously sought out challenges, if only to understand them better—hence his extensive research into horcruxes. It had been inevitable that he'd fall under the swaying spell of his snake-charming witch. What he knew, however, was that tonight's revelations would change everything between them, permanently.

The box had been opened, and there was no going back now.

And speaking of writhing... Leaning his mouth down to her ear, he whispered, "The first chance we have, I'm going to tear that dress from you and be deep inside you."

Granger slid off the back of the sofa, right into his arms. Pressing her mouth to his ear, she whispered back, "And I'll be ready for you. Finally."

The press of her hip into his, and the thought of all that slick, wet heat waiting for him had Draco going hard in an instant. Apparently, it didn't take a second Restorative Potion where she was concerned.

The question of Sabrina Aset's motives was temporarily forgotten as Draco's lips met Hermione's once more. One kiss, one lick, and her taste filled his mouth...and all ideas flew away, scattering like leaves in a hot wind. He pulled her to him, and felt a singular possessiveness of the woman he was now assured was all his.

He would never let her go. His father could rail, his mother could beg, but he would forsake them all for her. She was his at long last!

Mine, a voice hissed in his head.

...And then he tasted blood.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes:

So, here it is! I worked all yesterday, and all through the night to this morning on cleaning it up after it came back from beta. Now, I need sleep. Pardon me while I fall into bed and don't wake up for hours and hours...

Oh, and thank you for reading & reviewing! You are the best fandom in the universe!

XOXO,

- RZZMG

Music selection for this chapter: "Addicted" by Saving Abel. Lyrics are as follows...

I'm so addicted to
all the things you do.
When you're going down on me,
in between the sheets...
Oh, the sounds you make
with every breath you take!
It's unlike anything
when you're loving me.

Oh, girl, lets take it slow.
So, as for you, well, you know where to go.
I want to take my love
and hate you till the end.

It's not like you to turn away
from all the bullshit I can't take.
It's not like me to walk away.

I know when it's getting rough,
all the times we spend
trying to make
this love something better than
just making up again.

It's not like you to turn away.
All the bullshit I can't take!
Just when I think I can walk away...

I'm so addicted to
all the things you do.
When you're going down on me,
in between the sheets...
Oh, the sounds you make
with every breath you take!
It's unlike anything

I'm so addicted to
all the things you do.
When you're going down on me,
Oh, the sounds you make
with every breath you take!
It's unlike anything
when you're loving me.

When you're loving me...

How can I make it through
all the things you do?
There's just got to be more to you and me.

It's unlike anything...

I'm so addicted to
all the things you do.
When you're going down on me...

All the sounds you make
with every breath you take.
It's unlike anything.
I'm so addicted to you.
Addicted to you.