Chapter 5

Hermione lasted four days without owling Draco. It was the ladies trying to convince her that they were managing just fine that ultimately did it, plus the fact that they would soon be kicked out only the street. It was obvious that they weren't fine and that Edna was in downright pain but did her best to cover it.

She got a note back from Draco telling her that he expected her at 8pm for dinner. Hermione felt like she wanted to throw up. It was better than being on the street.

A package came a couple of hours later. It contained a beautiful satin dress in garnet with gold detailing. Her house colours. She guessed he wanted her to wear it tonight. She didn't try it on. She would put it on tonight, but hated it. There was nothing wrong with the dress, just the circumstances.

Hermione had to go for a walk to distract her mind. She wanted to cry because she felt she had sunk so low. This was never a situation she wanted to be in, but women had done this since the beginning of time, traded favours for protection or survival. It was the oldest profession after all.

Maybe it was the fact that it was Draco Malfoy that made it so much worse. But then again, he had promised to take care of everything and he was capable of doing it. And it was better than random strangers on the street.

Hermione felt no joy today. She could usually find something to lighten her mood, even in these harsh circumstances, but today there was nothing. She didn't know what to expect tonight. He could spend the entire evening insulting her. If he behaved atrociously she would just leave, she surmised. But there was no way she was going to get through the evening unscathed and she was prepared for that.

She got back to the apartment a couple of hours before. The ladies trying to convince her that they were bucking up nicely only confirmed what she had to do. She had booked the bathtub which was communal to the entire building. A part of her didn't want to bother, another part didn't want to give him ammunition.

The dress fit perfectly. She had no idea how he knew her size, but it was just right. It was the nicest dress that had been seen in this building for a long time. It got looks when Hermione walked down to the communal floo. Hermione didn't feel the least bit worried about getting soot on it, but hated the knowing looks she got from people.

She arrived at Black Manor exactly at 8 and was met at the door by an elf who showed her into the reception room.

Draco was sitting in one of the chairs with his feet on the table, tossing an unactivated switch in the air. He was dressed in black as per usual.

"You came." He said. "I know you would, although there was a chance you'd chicken out."

"You know I don't have any choices left."

"True." He said. "But being a Gryffindor, it is not always in your nature to recognise that."

Hermione felt the spite rise, but decided that it would be better for her to kep this from an all out brawl.

"Being a Slytherin, it is in your nature to take advantage."

He smiled. "Then we are in a perfect understanding."

Hermione felt the urge to hit him again, but restrained herself. What in the world was he thinking? They were never going to get on. It would be a miracle if she didn't murder him before the night was through. He did deserve it. She actually put more credence in the thought than she intended to. She indulged in another little daydream.

"I have ordered dinner. By my accounts, you will be famished by about now."

Hermione gave him a dirty look. Unfortunately he was entirely accurate.

"I have also had two hot dinners delivered to you two little wards as well." He said and rose from the seat.

"Thank you." She managed, although he was just fulfilling his end of the bargain.

He took her hand and led her into the dining room. The smell coming from it was making her mouth water. The unmistakable smell of roast chicken, roast potatoes, green beans and a nice rich thick gravy.

"Champagne?"

Hermione nodded. He expertly popped the cork and poured two glasses. So far this was all a bit more civilised than she had expected, but the night was young.

"Let's toast." He said as he handed her a glass.

"Let's not." She said quietly.

"To a mutually satisfying arrangement."

Hermione wanted to retch, but took a sip of the drink. It bubbled on her tongue, dry enough to have the crisp feel without stripping her mouth. Good champagne, of course. It made her briefly think about her parents. The last time she had champagne was at her mom's birthday and that was several years ago now.

"This is the Black ancestral home, isn't it?" She asked.

"It is. No Blacks left now, so its mine. My mother's actually, but I live here."

"You don't live at Malfoy Manor anymore."

"Officially, as does my wife. She lives there officially, but she actually lives in Scotland with her sister."

"You don't live together?" Hermione asked.

"We don't co-exist in the same room if we can help it." He said, but the conversation was not pleasing him. "Enough about my dear wife. I actually have a choice of places to live. My family has property all over the country. The decline in the good wizarding families is leaving an abundance of fine houses for the remaining."

"Grimmald Place went to you as well didn't it?" Hermione asked, but she knew the answer.

"It did." He said after a second of considering her. "Potter died without an heir, so it returned to the Black family, which is pretty much me these days."

"I understand he had some muggle relations." Draco continued. "But muggles can't inherit wizard property."

"They don't deserve it." She said. "And since I don't believe in discrimination that is saying quite a bit." Hermione knew that Draco would lose Grimmald Place if it ever became known that Harry really had an heir. Although she suspected that Draco probably wouldn't care that much since he had so many choices anyway.

"Lets eat. I'm sure you've waited long enough to get your greedy little hands on the grub." He said and directed her to the table. It was set for intimacy. Draco sat at the end of the table and Hermione sat beside him. That or it was just making it obvious that the other end of the table was for the mistress of the house and that she was not. No pun intended.

Hermione didn't like the way he spoke to her, but it still much more civilised than she had anticipated. Maybe he was on his best behaviour. Maybe he thought she might bolt. He was right, there was a great chance that she might.

They didn't talk much during dinner. Hermione felt awkward sitting in a gown. It wasn't distasteful, but it showed off her assets, as Draco had referred to them. She assumed that is what he was referring to.

It wasn't just that she was full with so little that was killing her appetite. The food was wonderful, but it was what was to come that was giving her the hebbie geebies. She wasn't sure she could do it. It was the same feeling she had when she sat in the dentist chair. The instinct to run was overruled by intellect, even with trusting parents. Grit your teeth and bare it, she told herself.

Her nervousness increased ten-fold when Draco got up and reached for her hand. He was leading her out of the dining room, towards the stairs. It was the most bizarre thing, touching Draco Malfoy, on purpose. And they were just about to do much more of it.

Hermione had reservations. Actually it was almost a panic attack. She didn't suffer from panic attacks, but she could imagine having one. Pull yourself together, she told herself. You are not walking to your doom. It was just... she felt like she needed to throw up. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to calm herself.

Draco kept on leading her down a hallway. The Black family home lived up to its namesake. It was very dark. The lights barely did anything to light it up, it was just soaked up.

"Malfoy, I'm not sure I..."

"You have to." He said. "You have no other choice. Bite the bullet."

"That's a muggle expression."

"I thought you'd like it."

"This isn't right."

"It is perfectly right." He said. "As it should be."

Hermione gritted her teeth.

"You don't believe that." She said.

"You know I do." He said. "I'll make it quick. You're not a virgin are you?"

"No!"

"Good. Why are you acting like one?"

"Because, this is wrong."

"Necessity is never wrong. It just is."

"There is no necessity for you." She accused.

"True, but as you know, I don't think this is wrong." He said and pulled her close. He snaked his arm around her.

"You're taking advantage."

"Absolutely." He and leaned in to kiss her.

"Uh.." Was all Hermione could managed before his lips were on hers. She knew it was coming, but she was still shocked. She tried to relax, but did a pretty poor job of it.

"Uh.." She started again as Draco undid the zipper of the dress. It fell to the floor and Hermione hands flew up to cover her breast.

"Nice underwear Granger." He said. Hermione gave it a 'go kill yourself' look. She hadn't seen nice underwear in years. "With knickers like that its amazing you're not a virgin."

Actually, the bickering was helping her. Bickering with Malfoy was familiar territory. The hand he was gently running up the side of her arm and neck was not. It moved up to her lips and his thumb forcefully stroked her lips.

"I gave you those teeth you know." He said.

"What?"

"If it wasn't for me giving you those massive beaver teeth, you would never have had the chance to size your chompers to a more suitable size."

"I didn't.."

"Liar." He said.

"Wha.." She started. "Well, nothing for you to take credit for."

"No appreciation."

He grabbed her head and pulled her in for a rougher kiss. He was exploring her mouth and walking her backwards. The reason became clear when she felt the bed hit the back of her legs.

He pushed her down and Hermione didn't struggle. He was on top of her, kissing her body. His hand were on her breast and the thumb was stroking her nipple.

It didn't feel bad, it didn't feel good either. It was like her nerves were not connected and the sensation didn't have anywhere to go. She wasn't turned on, but she wasn't revolted either. It was completely abstract, like watching a movie.

His shirt was off and he returned to exploring her body. He was completely absorbed exploring her. Hermione knew he was turned on. Every few seconds he would grind his hips into her. She could feel how hard he was. He was taking off her underwear and threw them away. He was sitting back looking at her, stroking her hips and her stomach as he did.

When he'd had his fill, he undid his zipper and lined himself up to enter her. He was behaving in a way she hadn't been truly aware he could. Intellectually she knew that everyone were sexual beings, but in reality she didn't see hardly any people as sexual. Least of all her childhood nemesis.

He hissed as he entered her. Hermione felt the intrusion, but again, the sensation had no where to go. It was the ghost of sex. A hint of the real thing, but her brain was not hooked up to receive it. She watched him as he thrust in and out. His face went from concentration to slackness, to the occasional flash of a smile. On one level, she felt like she was intruding on something very private. Which was a ridiculous notion, but it was the most bizarre experience.

He finished with a guttural cry and collapsed on top of her. His breath was ragged and he rolled off as it slowed down. Completely spent. He was asleep seconds later.

Hermione got out of the bed and pulled her dress on quietly. She wasn't sure how she felt. It hadn't been an awful experience. More bizarre than anything else.

Draco was lying of the bed, snoring slightly. His pants were still undone and sitting at the top of his thighs. His ... lying there. The back of his hand was covering his eyes. Skin very pale. Beautifully build. She had heard he was. In school, the rumour had gone around.

Hermione found her shoes and underwear and made her way downstairs. She tried to straighten her hair in the mirror she came across. Her eyes were big as saucers giving her a dazed look. Maybe because she felt dazed.

Males are funny creatures, she thought to herself as she grabbed the floo powder and zipped back to MQ.