(Draco)

The two of them walked back to Gryffindor tower in silence, the despair of the moment bringing the pair, who would at any other time been poles apart, together. Draco had – albeit reluctantly – placed one of his spindly hands on Hermione's shoulder; his arm snaked around her slim back and guided her forwards, and Hermione had wrapped one of her own arms around his waist and was leaning on him for strength, too drained by their encounter to make the trek from the fourth floor to the seventh on her own. No one but the portraits that were not slumbering and the occasional owl peering down at them from a glassless window would have seen them make their slow way through the eerie, moonlit corridors of the castle, and they saw no-one but the portraits. Even Filch, Mrs Norris and Peeves were nowhere to be seen, and Dumbledore had either finished or not yet begun his nightly walk through the castle.

There were no goodbyes when Draco deposited Hermione off at the entrance to Gryffindor tower. She muttered the password to a rather disgruntled Fat Lady – who was sat in her cushy armchair, wrapped in a dressing gown and swigging enthusiastically from a bottle of elf made wine –, looked somewhat cautiously back at Draco and pulled her lips up into a watery smile that didn't reach her eyes. Draco folded his arms, returned it and looked away. He didn't deal very well with emotional women. Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and it swung to. 'Bloody hell.', Draco muttered as the portrait slammed closed unceremoniously.

He didn't return to the hospital wing, deciding that as he was conscious and felt as well as one could after such an eventful evening, it would be fine for him to discharge himself and return to the Slytherin common room. Before heading there, however, he stopped off at the kitchens for some well deserved dinner, which was provided by a scowling Dobby, who was clad in a lime green woolly hat, several pairs of socks and a brown, anaconda like scarf, which was wound so many times around his little neck he had attained the appearance of a suffocating troll. After eating and drinking his fill of crumpets and tea he tossed the dirty plate at a house elf that was cleaning out a large mixing bowl. She failed to catch it and it hit her on the head, cracking on impact, causing her to shriek and wail like a caterwauling charm.

Draco left the kitchens full and yet somehow still feeling a little empty and melancholy. He slunk down to the cold dungeons, sticking to the shadows so he wouldn't be seen by Snape, who he was still feeling a little wary of, out of bed after curfew. Draco wasn't sure if he could handle the questions that would be asked if he was caught skulking in the dungeons by the hook-nosed man. Cursing him out of impatience and irritation would not put Draco back in his good books.

*

There were not many students lazing around in the Slytherin common room, which was bathed in a serpentine green light, and the majority of them scarpered into their respective dormitories, whispering with agape mouths at the Slytherin poster child's sudden reappearance. Only his most loyal and closest friends were left in the long, low ceilinged room, and upon noticing his return, every one of them – excluding Blaise Zabini – got up from the plush armchairs that were grouped around the fire as if greeting a member of wizarding royalty. Crabbe and Goyle were at the back of the group, grinning at each other like fools and Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode stood closest to him, slavish expressions on their faces. Blaise was the first to speak.

'Well, look who it is. Finally decided we are worthy of your presence, have you?', he drawled. He grinned jovially, still reclining care-freely in his chair, legs crossed and hands together under his chin.

'Sod off, Blaise. I don't want to hear any more of your witty remarks tonight.'

'Now now, Draco, play nice. Stop acting like a bear with a sore head, it doesn't become you.'

'Blaise.' Draco shot the laughing boy a dark, meaningful look and his face fell. He nodded.

'I'm going to bed. Don't wait up for me.' Draco sighed, combed his hand through his hair and ran down the stone steps at the entrance of the room, where Pansy was waiting with her arms crossed. She looked angry, and was staring at Draco, pouting sourly.

'Draco! How can you go to bed without even saying a word to me? I haven't seen you in weeks…' – Pansy glanced up at Draco in what she considered to be a seductive manner – 'You look stressed out, Draco… why don't we go up to my room and I'll give you a massage? It'll make you feel better…' She trailed off, and looked at him again, an expectant smile on her puggish face.

Blaise sniggered.

'Blaise, shut your mouth.' Draco pushed Pansy – who was now toying with his belt buckle – away. He responded bitingly to her comment. 'And you, Pansy, come anywhere near me or my room tonight and you'll regret not staying away.'

With that, Draco strode away from the little group and down the stairs to his dormitory, slamming the door behind him.

*

Theodore Nott and a small group of his friends were playing Wizard's Chess by the crackling fireplace.

'All of you, out. Now.'

Nott, who had a great disliking for Malfoy, his family's standing in the wizarding world and his popularity within the Slytherin house, glared at Malfoy and attempted to retaliate.

'I said now, Nott.'

With a flourish of Nott's wand the chess set was back in its box.

'Come on, boys. We'll find somewhere better to play.'

The group got up and swaggered past Malfoy. Nott pushed into Malfoy on their way out, jolting him, and in a deep, bitter voice, Malfoy responded.

'You'll regret that, Nott.'

'Oh, please. What are you going to do? Set your Father on me?'

'We'll see.'

The boys left the room, and Draco flung himself down on his bed. He rolled over and picked up the ring emblazoned with the Malfoy crest that his father had bought him for his last birthday from a dish on his bedside table and rolled it around in his fingers in a thoughtful sort of way.

He didn't love Granger. She wasn't his type… intelligent, insufferable, overbearing… too full of a certain joie de vivre. She had grown into her features, yes… but Draco liked his girls submissive and easy. With that dark sort of Black beauty… pale, dark haired, full lipped, with large, heavy lidded, almond shaped eyes… like Bellatrix had been, before Rodolphus and the Dark Lord had wormed their way into her. Like Pansy. Without Pansy's extreme level of devotion and slavishness; that part of her personality irritated him no end. Some of the time he was with her, he felt like lashing out… like showing her how infuriating she really was… but Pansy, who had let him lick Firewhisky off of all sorts of unmentionable places in one of their drunken little sessions, would probably get a kick out of that kind of masochistic behaviour, and he had left that particular fantasy to gather dust at the back of his mind.

There was definitely something about Granger that he found appealing, however. That side of herself she did not allow others to see. Like him, she had built a wall around her to keep others at bay… she had shown that tonight, he pondered. They were kindred spirits in a way, although completely opposite to each other…Was she really as alone, emotional and insecure as she had put across? She loved him; that much was clear… Why exactly, Draco knew not… he was the type to be obsessed over, yes, but loved? No. He was dark, snide, brooding… violent to his partners. Perhaps she had warmed to the part of him that existed in the fortress he had built inside of him, which he had, unwillingly, allowed her to bear witness to. Draco found himself warming to that same part of her.

For different reasons.

She needed to be broken, put in her place. He would mould her to fit his type; although it would be a challenge, a challenge was just what he needed. If all went to plan the weak, submissive part of her would become the dominant part, and in turn, the cold, vile, dark part of himself would become dominant… then, and only then, could he bring himself to truly become like his father, and live up to the Malfoy name. Only then could he make his father proud, and join the ranks of the Dark Lord.

Yes, Hermione Granger was exactly what Draco needed.

--

Draco's got something of a dual personality, hasn't he? Hmm... ;)

Hee hee hee! This is finally going where I intended it to. Will Hermione yield? Will Draco be able to change her? Dun dun dun.

Reviews = love love love. Special mentions go out to Pixie and Kelren5, your reviews were so lovely!

Oh, and don't worry, there won't be much/any sadomasochism, don't let that put you off. The plot isn't going to be abandoned for some raunchy, rough sex scenes! ;D

Visit here, it kind of sums up how I feel about this chapter. http://www(.)lyricsfreak(.)com/m/michael+jackson/give+in+to+me_20092661(.)html You'll have to take out the brackets in the link.

Laura