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: I'm so sorry for flooding people's in boxes. This started out as a one-shot. But it ended up being 32 pages. So, I had to break it up a bit. And the natural cadence of the fic demanded short chapters. So, I'm posting it all at once, bit by bit. So, again, I'm sorry if you got 14 notifications. :(
Part Two
Hierarchy of Inequality
"What?"
"That, or kill you." He shrugged again and she blanched. "So, can I come in now?"
"No!" her hands shook.
"Oh, don't flatter yourself. You're hardly worth the effort."
"Hardly." She croaked in agreement.
"Let me in." He trampled over the rest of the flowers and walked to her window. "I don't fancy sounding like a broken record." He put his hand on the sill, and pulled himself up.
She 'eeped' and backed away.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Actually, I'm one of the good guys now." He sounded just as surprised as she looked at that statement. It wasn't until right then that he admitted to himself that it was true.
Besides, it was a shame to lose such a unique monkey for no good reason.
She was fascinating, but only as a novelty. No substance, he reminded himself.
"But you said–"
"Oh, ignore that. It was purely for shock value. Come now, Granger, where are your manners. I'm fucking cold." The chill was bone deep.
He was teetering on the windowsill and without invitation he pulled himself through. He felt like an idiot, climbing through a window.
"No." she mumbled, but only halfheartedly and retreated farther back.
"Thanks." He said sarcastically as he straightened his robes. "Now look, I haven't much time. I spent hours trying to discharm your house," he shot her a muddled look, admiration and frustration, "so just listen."
"Malfoy–"
"Draco." He corrected her, pointing at himself. "Drraacooo." He elongated the syllables of his name.
"Her-mi-on-e." she shot back, indignantly, separating each syllable as if she were teaching him how to pronounce it.
He smiled.
She scowled.
"Now, listen here, Hermione," she shuddered, "I'm here on orders from the Dark Lord to either kidnap you and bring you to him, or to kill you."
She gave a strangled kind of gasp. "Harry–"
"–isn't here to save you this time, Granger." It sounded more menacing than he'd meant it to. But it was only then, after he'd said it, that he realized how true it was.
She was defenseless. He nearly shuddered with glee.
"Draco," she said his name with that same kind of pleading, half-terrified voice. It wasn't an angry hiss, but still – it roused something in him. Humming, demanding blood.
Dirty, filthy mudblood.
He wanted to hurt her.
"I wouldn't have told you, if I was gonna do it." He said, rather disappointed she didn't catch that herself. "If I was going to kill you, you'd be dead already. I could have blown up your whole house, parents and all." The thought had crossed his mind.
His hand closed over his wand in his pocket, and he wished he could take her. He wanted to lock her up, and study her mind. He wanted to take her apart, bit by bit, to see how she worked, what made her tick. What made her better than the others, what made her different that every other muggle? Why did she have magical powers? Why was she so smart?
"Then why did you come?"
"To warn you?" He shrugged, not sure if he really meant it, or if she bought it. He wasn't really sure why'd he'd come either. "To protect you?" It sounded like a question when he said it, like he was asking if she believed him.
She snorted.
He hated her.
"Protect me, from what? You're the scariest thing I've seen since…" she didn't finish. He imagined it was because of the look that crossed his face at the idea that he frightened her, and not because remembering the last scary thing hurt her too much. And it would lead to questions, questions he didn't want to answer.
"I'm working with Snape."
She said nothing.
"With the Order."
"Snape's not with the Order. Not anymore. Not since…" she looked tired, sad. He wanted to insult her so he could see her angry. She looked almost formidable when she was angry.
"Snape killed Dumbledore because Dumbledore ordered him to. Ask your friend Potter about what Dumbledore makes his followers promise to do under his command. Downright loony, if you ask me." He thought about what Snape had told him. "Anything." he said it aloud and made a face at the thought. "It's all 'run away and leave me to die' and 'kill me when the time is right' with him." He imitated Dumbledore, without reverence and she flinched.
"But Harry was there, he saw you–"
"I wasn't working with Snape then." He'd learned later, when Snape was sure he could trust Draco, that it was already planned. It was a performance, for the Deatheaters, for Draco. It was all to save him from what the consequences would have been when he failed. Because, he knew, just as Dumbledore had back then, that he couldn't do it. But he didn't know Potter had been there to see his failure. It made it worse, made the stinging of never-being-good-enough seep into his bones and turned his blood stone cold.
"Harry said you couldn't do it. What happened to you? What made you change?" strange fascination, always getting her into trouble.
"Nothing." He hated the way she was looking at him, like she had a right to understand him. "Snape made an unbreakable vow, to do it if I… failed." He looked back at the window. Confiding in her was worse than the look she gave him, because it made him feel weak.
"Dumbledore knew then? The whole time he knew what you were up to, didn't he?" She was easier to convince than the others would be, he knew this. She was smarter than they were.
"It was a show." He nodded.
"So Snape had to do it, because Dumbledore told him to!" she sounded innocent, still, like she was solving a problem in class.
He wanted to steal that innocence from her.
"Yes."
She nodded once. "Right then. We've got to tell Harry." She reached for a coat.
He snatched her hand and squeezed it until she whimpered.
"Wrong, Granger. Didn't you hear what I said about the Dark Lord? I've got to get you out of here. Snape will know–"
"I'm not going anywhere with you!"
He must have given her a frightening look because she backed away, farther into the shadows, her wrist still caught in his hand.
"It's your funeral." He let go of her. He kept his tone harsh, sharp at the edges. It was an open-ended threat. And he admitted then that he could have killed her, if had wanted to. But as it was, he didn't. Her dirty blood on his hands, staining him… He already had enough stains.
"Malfoy–"
He growled.
"Draco! Draco," she sounded on the verge of her instincts. Fight or flight. She held her hands up in front of her. It was a placating gesture that Draco found exceedingly aggravating.
He watched her movements closely.
She glanced at the door, the window, and oddly enough, at the bed. This caught him off guard so that when she lunged for the window, he was momentarily stunned.
But only long enough for her to seize her wand from her desk.
"Not fast enough." He breathed on her cheek as he took hold of her arms and yanked her back against him. She whimpered and he felt powerful, truly powerful then.
He pulled his arms around her middle, pressing himself hard against her back. And just before the CRACK of the disapparation that sent the parchment on her desk fluttering to the floor, he laughed.
It was deep and not at all as he felt, dark and hovering just on the cusp of evil. No, the laugh was like a lover's caress after soft sex, something Draco knew nothing about.
CRACK!
Can Hermione really trust him? Where is he taking her? What will happen next time on Masterpiece theater?