Chapter 10: Seduction

It had been a long day of yelling at deatheaters and questioning half-wit blood traitors. The pounding in Draco's head had yet to desist. It was well past midnight when Draco found himself pacing the floors of his study, hands clasped behind his back, and a bottle of firewhiskey empty on the desk. He had previously been over at his godfather's, ranting about work, his new servant, and the mudblood.

He was getting nowhere on the search for the bloody mudblood. Every pore of him seethed at the thought of the hidden female. It was incorrigible to think that a mudblood had outsmarted every deatheater in the Dark Lord's ranks, even himself. Especially himself, who was she to successfully outwit him?

Draco's mood darkened as he stopped pacing and planted his steel gaze into the fire getting lost in his thoughts.

He had hated her from the day they met. He knew mudbloods didn't deserve magic, just like his father told him. Her buckteeth and bushy haired made it all the more easy to hate her blood, her heritage, and the girl herself. He knew she was filthy and dim-witted the moment he heard about her blood status. But when their final marks in class were ready, he was aghast to find that she had beaten him, a pureblood, in everything.

Everything.

He seethed. It had changed everything. He worked harder to outdo her in grades. It was what his father had expected of him, after all. But even with all his hard work he found himself, for all of his seven years at Hogwarts, beaten, being the second best at everything.

His father deemed this unacceptable. Second best was not good enough for a Malfoy.

He taunted her, called her names, everything he could think of without getting in trouble. It was a good way to take his anger out on her.

He remembered the first time he made her cry. Draco relished at the thought. He had called her a mudblood for the first time. She was defiant at first, not caring of his words, but then he saw the tears in her eyes and satisfaction swelled up his chest the moment the first tear escaped from her muddy eyes.

She became immune to his name calling though, as well as his tauntings. He had tried everything to provoke a reaction out of her, but she was too damn level-headed to be bothered by him. It made him loathe her more.

Then, the day had come and he finally got a good emotional response from her. She slapped him for it. He remembered washing his face over and over trying to get rid of the mudblood germs. She humiliated him in front of his friends. Desecrated his purity. He was diseased by a mudblood.

Something happened though. He remembered well when he saw her at the Yule Ball. He noticed for the first time that she no longer had large front teeth, but perfectly even white glistening teeth in fact. Her hair was sleeked back, completely rid of all the bushiness it had always held. The way her gown clung to her in just the right places and swirled away from her body as she danced with the nitwit Bulgarian. She was no longer the same mudblood he knew.

He was careful to watch her after that, seeing how unpredictable mudbloods really were. Everything about her made little to no sense. She was a mudblood, intelligent, bookwormish, excelled in all forms of magic, and she was beautiful. It wasn't supposed to be possible. His father had taught him all there was to know, especially of mudbloods. They were filthy, unintelligent and worthless fools. Merlin damn them all!

She was an exception, he found. An exception to everything he once believed in. An exception that made him loath her to his very core. But he also found that the more he hated her, the more obsessed he became with her. So when he was appointed the duty after his parents were betrayed, it couldn't have been more pleasing to him than firewhiskey.

At this point Draco summoned a houself and had her bring another bottle of liquid amber. She brought it back with a quick pop! and he swigged down another shot of poison.

She was like firewhiskey. She burned him when she was around and made him feel like shit the next morning, full of regrets for giving into his addiction in the first place. He wished he could be free of her once and for all, but he knew that day would never come because the second he laid eyes on her he would be consumed, consumed by her beauty and intelligence, consumed by her fire that he longed to feel in his veins once again.

He took another drink and let it burn all the way down his throat. She was a form of self-mutilation to him. He knew she was bad for him, but he longed for her even more, as if knowing she was bad for him made the release even better. He would give his most prized possession just to find her. Whatever it took, he would have her.

She was an intoxicating habit, making him loose all his right senses. She had a fiery temper that burned him with every lash of the tongue, but the more he was with her the more he wanted her. He wanted to drink her up, take in her fire, and be consumed by her intoxication.

Draco drank more and the amber liquid sloshed in its bottle.

The color reminded him so much of her honey brown eyes. The way they lit up when he challenged her. The contempt they held specifically for him. He reveled in the thought. She hated him just as much as he loathed her. It was perfect.

Another drink.

He relished in the thoughts of her capture. Oh, the fun he had planned for her. He would enjoy every second of it, every moment of torture and pain he would inflict upon her. He imagined the sound of her scream in his ears as he punished her. She would beg him to end her life, but he wouldn't succumb to that so soon. He would drag out the torture as long as he could. She would beg for her life, get down on her hands and knees and grovel before him, plead for him to be merciful and end her pain. He would comply, eventually. Not before he had his fill of her, of course, but that could take a very long time.

Draco recalled the last time he saw her. It was here in this very house, proclaiming herself to be some Clearriver girl, or something of the like, it wasn't important. What was important was the defiant look on her face mixed with a hint of fear. Her pale skin was dirtied brown and leaves were stuck in her hair as if she had been brawling. He so badly wanted to reach out to her bushy hair and yank them from her body so that she would cry out in pain. She and boy wonder had cost his family great pain having to house the Dark Lord.

He recognized the lot the instant they set foot in the room. It took all his will power not to cry out her name. The shock he had received by his classmates' appearance was enough to shut him up though, especially Potter.

"Is it? Is it Harry Potter?" Draco could still hear his father demanding voice. He closely inspected Potter's face, it was undoubtedly him, but who he really wanted to take a look at was Granger, but there was no way he could spare a glance without being caught.

"I can't—I can't be sure."

Turmoil broke out between his father and Greyback and he was prompted again to take a look at Potter. He pretended to look closer, giving his features an unsure look, playing the scared confused son of a well renowned deatheater rather well and walked off again revealing his uncertainties out loud.

If he were to give the mudblood up to the Dark Lord, he would never see her again, nor be able to torment her. He wasn't quite ready for that. Draco ached to run up to her pull the leaves out of her hair. He wanted to hear her voice, hear her shriek at him, like it was in Hogwarts. But he stifled the urge and stood by his mother, effectively turning his back away from them.

"What about the mudblood, then?"

Draco almost jumped, it was his opportunity to inspect her more closely, but he knew it would be a deathly mistake so he continued standing there examining his nails. They prompted him again. He tried ignoring them, but upon hearing the name Granger he couldn't help but take a peek.

"I…maybe…yeah." He tried keeping his voice unsure and free of excitement so he turned back around to the fireplace. More talk was made and he was prompted to answer again. "Yeah. It could be."

Draco shuddered upon remembering the events following. Hearing her screams provided by someone other than himself was not something he enjoyed. He squirmed in his position throughout the whole torture begging Merlin to end the screams.

Another drink.

Where was she now? Dead, alive, clean, dirty, sleeping, awake? The possibilities were endless. Draco seethed again. He hated the stupid mudblood to the point of obsession. It was a fact everyone knew. She was all he could think about, her firewhiskey eyes, bushy brown hair, snarky comments, and a gryffindor spirit he was dying to tame.

Draco waited for the day when he saw her once again. He had almost seen her just tonight. He had done his best to form his servant the way he remembered her, but there was something he just couldn't get right. His servant was quite indignant about looking like the famous Hermione Granger, and here he thought he was doing her a favor.

Draco's thoughts drifted to the servant girl. She was another mystery in itself. She was intelligent, feisty, stubborn, everything he loved in a servant. But she was hiding something. What that something was had Draco completely baffled. He hadn't the time to find out yet and here they were well past half a year together. It was a record time of a woman being in the services of the Malfoy manor. Draco thought back to their first meeting. She had been her feisty self trying to yank away from the man who brought her to him. He saw her eyes search the room before he revealed himself and he also saw the look of relief right before he took his mask off. Most importantly he saw the flash of recognition. She knew him. So why in Merlin's name could he not remember seeing her face before?

But he had seen it before. He had recognized her too, but he couldn't figure out from where. Draco had gone over and over in his head on why the girl was so familiar, but nothing clicked.

He mentally built his list of her: intelligent, escape artist, orphan or not who she says she is, feisty, stubborn, held secret promises to a man, most likely a lover, alone, familiar, know-it-all. If he didn't know any better he'd say she was the mudblood, but that, he knew, was impossible. The only girls he had ever bought were halfblood. He had made sure of that. So who was she?

Draco thought back to his meeting with Snape, who had been acting very odd since he came for the celebration dinner with the Dark Lord, all the time saying something about settling down and starting his life and forgetting about the girl. Draco rolled his eyes, how could he possibly start a family during this time when a psychopath was ruling the world. It was no place for a child, even Draco knew that.

The young man reminisced as he told Severus about his dinner party for his friends and how he had forced Velia to come along disguised as Gemma Lotus. Needless to say, his godfather didn't appreciate the hilarity of the situation nearly as much as Draco.

He laughed darkly and took another drink.

"You know Draco, I noticed this new servant of yours has been around for quite some time now, far longer than the others."

"Yeah, what's your point? I've been too busy with work to find another and she's still serving her purpose. Besides, I'm not quite done playing with her."

"Ah, you haven't forced her into loving you yet?"

"I didn't say that." Draco snapped.

"Are you getting a bit soft, Draco?"

"I'm just bidding my time for the opportune moment, that's all. It's just a game anyway, what do you care?"

"I think you're starting to care about the girl."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Snape stood from his seat and stretched before sitting his glass on the table. "I think it's time we call it a night."

"Very well then, we'll see you tomorrow."

Draco sighed and shook his head.

What a ridiculous notion.

The young man sat his glass down on the table and headed towards his bedchambers. His servant was awaiting him.

As Draco entered the room his eyes searched his chambers until he found a sleeping figure lying by the window. She was curled into a ball, goose bumps quite visible. Draco took her small form in and gathered her in his arms. She nuzzled against him trying to warm herself as he made his way to the bed. He gently laid her down and covered her in a thick comforter. She was already dressed in a silk negligee ready for bed. Her looks were transformed back into her beautiful Italian self. The moonlight seeping in through the window made her look magnificently surreal. She was breath-taking, he decided.

Draco traced her brow down to her jaw line and finally over her lips. She was already warming up. This brought him comfort as he slipped out of his robes and into bed.

"I'm going to make you love me." He whispered.

Hermione awoke the next morning, later than usual, as she sleepily snuggled up to the source of heat. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the deep moan behind her, as she had unknowing grinded into her owner.

"Mmm, good morning, love. How did you sleep?" His voice was deep and husky in her ear.

"I—erm—I slept well and you, sir?"

"I slept quite well. You know, I was thinking, Christmas is coming in a couple of days and I don't have a clue as to what you want."

"Me?"

"Of course, I have to get you something. You've been so good to me, it's only fair. So tell me, what does your heart desire, Velia?"

Well that was an easy answer. What Hermione wanted the most was her best friends back and for the world to go back to normal, free of Voldemort. But she couldn't tell him that. So instead she went with the next best thing.

"To be free."

"Well you know I can't do that, love. I still need you. Besides, who wants to be alone on Christmas anyway?"

It was quiet for a moment. Draco leaned up on his elbows and positioned himself above his servant. He leaned down and planted soft kisses on her ear lobe and neck. Goosebumps covered the girl's body with every gentle press of the lips. They were warm and wet and quite satisfying to the touch. She clenched her jaw trying not to let him see the effect he was having on her as he whispered heavily in her ear.

"I could give you everything, you know. I could hand you the world on a silver platter. Whatever earthly treasure you could possibly imagine all you'd have to do is tell me and I'd make it happen. Just stay with me, please. "

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to imagine that the man above her weighed four hundred pounds, had horrible boils, and was the most unattractive man she had ever met and ignore the fact he was quite the opposite. She wanted to pretend his body wasn't chiseled from exercise, or his smooth pale skin wasn't flawless, or that, even though she hated to admit it, he was probably the most attractive man she had seen in the last three years. She tried to push away the feelings his breath on her ear was giving her and the way he had said please to her.

Draco continued to trail kisses down her neck, over her collarbone and to the other side of her face. His hand lightly danced from her shoulder down her arm and back up again.

"I could pleasure your soul beyond imagination. I can make your body vibrate in lust and have you beg me for more. That's what I want. I want to make you feel like no man has ever made you feel before, like it's the last time you'll ever feel again, and then I'll give it to you over and over until you've had more than you can take." His kisses led up her jaw line and he hovered above her lips. "But only if you want me to."

Hermione opened her eyes as she felt the heat of his lips just barely above hers. His body was gently pressed against hers and his hand was caressing the back of her head, making it fuzzy and hard to think. Then he wisped his lips across her own and rolled off the bed, clad in only dark silk green boxers.

It had been a highly unusual day for Hermione. First, her morning conversation with Malfoy had been completely out of the ordinary. If she hadn't know any better she would have said he was acting quite lovingly in his attempts to seduce her. But she wasn't at the top of her class for nothing. She knew he was up to no good.

The second thing that had been rather odd was at breakfast. He ordered the houselves to tak a break and he cooked breakfast, by himself, without any help, for the two of them. He made crepes with marmalade, an unusual favorite of Hermione's, chocolate milk, and a delicious fruit salad. It was a breakfast Hermione used to eat at Hogwarts almost every morning.

Their conversation in the morning was also very pleasant. He had asked questions about her as if he truly wanted to know her better. He hadn't even asked her to call him sir or clean the dishes up when they were done.

Something was going on.

They were now in wizarding London, bundled in their cloaks because a heavy sleet had started to fall, shopping for Christmas gifts for themselves and Draco's closest friends.

Again Hermione had been excited to see what sort of horrible changes had happened since Voldemort's reign, but once again she was surprised to find that everything went on as normal.

They first stopped by a robe shop and Draco bought dress robes for both himself and Hermione, mentioning something about a Christmas Ball that his mother had always made him attend at the Zabini's and that he planned on the both of them making an appearance. Hermione shuddered to think of the horrible things that could happen to her during the event, but tried not to think too far into her future.

Next they stopped at a bookstore. Hermione nearly ran from Malfoy's arm when she saw all the new books she had a chance to delve into, but remembered who she was pretending to be and stayed put. The two of them walked around the shop for some time. Hermione eyeing the books widely when Draco would pause at a book and flip through it to see if it was what he was looking for.

"Would you like to look around freely Velia?"

She nodded her head in excitement.

"Just promise me you won't run off, okay? I won't be happy if you do."

Again she nodded in excitement and took off eyes surveying all the categories of books. She found several books on transfiguration, arithmacy, and ancient runes that looked absolutely fascinating, but what had really caught her attention was her favorite book: Hogwart's: A History Special Edition.

Her eyes lit up as she flipped through the books, memories of its pages flowing back into her head. It all felt so familiar and comfortable. All she wanted to do was curl up and read her book for hours.

However, time seemed to pass faster than it had in ages and Draco was ready to leave the store, his hands full of books. He smiled at her lightly and gently guided her to the check out. She made her way to put her book back on the shelf but he stopped her.

"Is that the book you want?"

She nodded shyly.

"I'll buy it for you. Consider it an early Christmas present. How's that sound?"

"Lovely. Thank you."

He smiled at her again and paid the man at the register and they left; Draco's hands full of bags. Hermione put her hand around her master's arm as they stepped out into the wintery cold. She used her other hand to tug her cloak closer to her body to keep the warmth in.

She felt more content than she had in years knowing she could go home and find some time to dig into her old companion, Hogwarts, A History. Today had been nearly pleasant. She smiled at the thought. What bothered her though, was Malfoy's behavior. It was strange for her to be on the receiving end of gentlemen Draco. She needed to find out what he was up to.

"Shall we grab a bite to eat?"

Hermione nodded and the man pulled her into the shelter of a small restaurant, being sure to open the door for her.

Malfoy had been quite the gentleman all day, opening doors and offering his arm to lead the way. As they entered the quaint but expensive looking restaurant the maître d' led them to a dark solitude corner and offered them a few wine selection before handing them menus and leaving.

The waiter came back a few moments later and served them their wine selection. He left with a bow after Malfoy gave him their order. It was silent for a few moments. Hermione sipped on her wine, trying to ignore the heated stare of the man across from her. She stared into her glass, slowly twirling it in her hand. The wine thickly sloshed from one side of the glass to the other. Its dark red tone reminded her of blood. Thick and oozing from side to side. She took in its smell. It was a slightly soured fruit smell with a hint of something sweet she couldn't quite put her finger on. She was by no means a wine expert, but she didn't think this particular bottle of wine was worth the five galleons a glass.

"What do you think?"

"It's thick and—suffocating, like in those last moments when you think you're going to drown, but finally find air. The smell is bitter, but enticing. It's putrid, but intoxicating. It reminds me of—blood. Pain. Loss. Broken promises."

Hermione abruptly set down her wine glass and looked away, her eyes filling with tears.

"Velia—"

"Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove? That—that you actually have a heart?"

"I'm trying to show you what we could be together—"

"No. I'm not falling for you tricks so stop wasting your efforts. I'll never love you, no matter how hard you try. I know how cruel you really are and I could never love you." The girl went to stand and walk out of the room, but the man before her was too fast. He took her by the shoulders and sat her back down in her chair.

"Sit down. You will not make a scene and embarrass me in public. Now, you're going to sit here and enjoy the meal and my company if I have to imperio you. Are we clear?"

She glared at him.

The blond man got down on one knee so that he could look at her face to face and brought his hand up to her face. She immediately winced waiting for the impact of a slap, but was surprised to find a gently caress. He gently wiped the tears from her face before kissing her cheek and sitting back down in his seat.

Moments later the waiter came out with their food, a superior look on his face and served their meal.