Title: The Misfortunes of Virtue
Author: Winter Ashby (rosweldrmr)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling & Misfortunes of Virtue (title only) were written by the Marquis de Sade in 1787 (more notes about the literary allusions in the footnote of the last chapter)
Rating: M (for language and adult themes)
Summary: Draco steals away in the dead of night on orders from the Dark Lord to either kidnap or kill Hermione. But who is he really loyal to?
Timeline: Post 'The Half-Blood Prince' Some incorporated plot of 'Deathly Hallows'
Warning: Major Character Deaths! Inferi!Character, Necromancism: controlling the dead (NOT necrophilia), strong language, violence, blood, gore, & DH spoilers
Authors Note: THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER OF THIS FIC. PLEASE START WITH THE PROLOGUE! FF(DOT)NET IS RETARDED, AND NO LONGER SENDS NOTIFICATIONS FOR CREATION OF A NEW STORY, ONLY FOR UPDATING THEM. (WTF IS UP WITH THAT?)
Part One
Subjectivity of Vice
It was an Order.
A request.
A mission.
"Bring her to me." The Dark Lord commanded of his two most loyal Deatheaters. The only two so skilled in occlumency they tricked even him. It was an assignment he gave the moles.
Snape sneered, like the walking alliteration he was.
Draco hated the assignment. He hated being told to capture her, body and mind, and return her to the Dark Lord's clutches, "…or kill her," he had hissed.
It seemed, if the Dark Lord couldn't have, posses, inherit, corrupt her mind, no one would.
Draco felt a quiver of unabashed joy. The chance to see her writhe in pain at his hand was more than enough incentive to strike out on his own. So he stole away in the night, mark blazing, and a frantic kind of look in his eyes.
He found her easily. Muggle parents asleep in their muggle beds. Snoring and having muggle dreams. Like dogs, or monkeys are to them, so were muggles him. They were another species. Lowly, sometimes surprisingly clever or adept at certain things, but mostly beneath him.
She had protective charms on her house.
Draco smiled. She was an exceptional monkey, no doubt about that. Like one that learned to use its hands to speak. She rose above the rest of them. Her and her brilliant mind.
But that's what got her into trouble.
He couldn't discharm her room. So finally, as the sun dawned, he was exhausted and so angry that his pale cheeks were flushed. He resorted to throwing pebbles.
"Malfoy?" She hissed as she slid the window open. He shrugged, like it was a common thing, to prowl around muggle London in the middle of the night and toss rocks at her window.
Evil. Slytherin. Dumbledore.
His mind groaned. He was still the enemy, back then.
This was going to be harder than he expected.
"Granger." He drawled her name like it was a greeting and shoved his hands in his coat pockets.
"What're–?"
"Can I come in? It's fucking freezing." He cocked an eyebrow.
She was wearing pink pajamas.
He wanted to study her, like a potion, or an arithmancy problem. He liked arithmancy. He liked knowing there was always a correct answer, even if he didn't know what it was. He liked knowing right from wrong. It was all that gray area that confused him, twisted him up. At least if he knew what was wrong, he could say he choose it on purpose instead of accidentally falling into the murky realm of 'semi-evil' that Snape so often dwelled in.
Draco didn't ever want to be like Snape.
"No, you can't come in!" She looked livid, like she'd jinx him any second.
"I'm not here for that." He only considered much later that 'that' could have meant many, many things.
"Why are you here, then?"
A muggle car rolled by and she looked at it, wearily.
"Let me in and I'll tell you."
She sighed, heaving her small breast above her crossed arms. He wondered if she'd taste like a pureblood. He wondered if there was a difference. Magic is still magic, after all.
He was becoming more and more like one of them. A good guy. So much so that he thought of the concept of blood-power felt nothing but the shell of useless lies. Looking at her, obliviously, there was no such thing as pureblood brains.
He snarled.
"You're mad! Get off my lawn or I'll apparate to…"
"To where?" he asked, curiously, "the Order?"
"How did you know –?"
"Let me in, and I'll tell you." He shuffled through her parent's flowers, towards her first-floor window.
"No."
Stubborn as ever.
"And if I tell you why I'm here?"
"Then I'll notify the Order." She was careful not to give anything away. No location, no 'how long' it would take. She didn't mention how she would communicate, or names.
Clever.
"And what if I told you not to do that?"
"Then I'd say you really are a nutter, Malfoy. Now leave before…" she deliberated, "before I call the muggle police. You're lurking." With that, she slid the window shut.
He growled and balled his hands into fists. "Damn it, Granger, let me in!" he bellowed and she could see her face fall through the window.
She shook her head, 'no'.
Draco picked up a pebble and launched it at her parents' upstairs window.
"Don't." she mouthed.
He just smirked and tossed another. It hit and tinked all the way down the roof. He could see her run her fingers through her wild hair. He picked up another pebble and arched his arm back.
She flung the window open. "Stop!" she whispered vehemently. She sounded pleading. Draco liked the way it sounded. He wished she'd say his name like that.
He was tired.
"No," he sounded like a petulant child, even to himself.
"Oh really, Malfoy, come off it." She didn't sound all that mad, though. Just exasperated.
"Let me in." he pulled back his arm and looked up to her parents window.
"What do you want?"
He sighed. It was a crossroad, a junction. It was an impasse, a compromise. He cracked. He knew he'd never get in now.
"I'm here to kidnap you." He told her, casually and shrugged his shoulders.
What will Hermione do? How will Malfoy be able to get inside now? And when Will we get to see some sexy time? Stay tuned to find out!