Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Chapter 30: Crave My Heart


"How I wish you would see the potential,

the potential of you and me.

It's like a book elegantly bound but

in a language that you can't read

just yet."

-I Will Possess Your Heart-Death Cab For Cutie


The last flash of green light faded and the room was dark once more. Bodies lay crumpled and stretched out over the polished floor; a carpet of dead flesh draped in black. The hall had gone completely silent save for the dry, rasped breaths the Dark Lord took as he regained his composure and lowered his wand, though his crimson eyes still danced with rage. The ones who had not run had been spared; they stood unmoving and silent except for Bellatrix Lestrange, who wept quietly to herself on her knees for having failed her master.

Draco was glad he had not brought Hermione with him inside the hall. The Dark Lord had demanded he bring her, and with dread in his heart Draco obeyed, but he had left her with Bogg in a locked room. Bringing her here to this meeting would have provoked the snake man's anger further, and he had no doubt that Hermione would be one of the many murdered on the floor had he taken her inside.

He didn't need to look around to see the fear on the other's unmasked faces. The stench of fear and piss was strong in the air, and it was delicious. Draco did not flicker an eye when the chaos had erupted, nor when the bodies began to hit the ground-none of it mattered to him. He was safe where he was, the Dark Lord would never kill him. There was only one thing he must make certain-he scanned around him quickly and finally located Lucius standing to the side; expressionless, but alive.

"Leave. All of you, except Draco," the Dark Lord spat, and the assembly wasted no time in following orders. Draco remained where he was until all were gone, and stepped around the sea of bodies to reach his master.

"I would speak to your whore now," he said. Draco snapped his fingers and Bogg appeared in a wisp of smoke.
"Bring her," he said, and the elf disappeared.

"You're angry with me for touching her last time," Voldemort said, watching Draco closely.

"Yes," Draco said stiffly. "With all respect, my Lord, she is my wife. Only mine to torment. You could have damaged her beyond repair. You could have killed her."

The Dark Lord let out an amused chuckle. "That I made certain would not happen, Draco. The Mudblood is still in one piece, is she not? I am not as inconsiderate as some may think."

Bogg appeared then, with Hermione beside him. Hermione had steeled herself for this, he knew, but it seemed it was not enough. It was easy to see the tremors in her limbs and the way she recoiled once she caught sight of the bodies around her. Bogg disappeared immediately, and she was left alone until Draco reached for her.

"You're looking better than when I last had the pleasure of seeing you," the Dark Lord said by way of greeting, and she looked at him coldly. "Has our Draco been treating you well?"

"Draco is kind enough to bestow every possible attention," she said, her voice thick with contempt. "Anything I could ask for, he offers, yet I never once entertained the notion of seeing you again, but here I am."

The Dark Lord's lip curled to reveal a sharp, yellow tooth. "You ought to bow before me, silly girl. This is not a matter of your interests-I demanded you be brought here. It makes no difference to me if you would rather be elsewhere. You would complain of your husband's generosity?"

"Your interpretation of his actions is very different to mine."

The Dark Lord stepped closer, toying with his wand. His long, weathered yellow nails scraped against the wood every now and then and Hermione resisted the urge to run. "And what name would you give them, then?"

"Cruelty," she said, and turned to meet Draco's eye. She had to fight to keep her voice from wobbling. "Torture."

Draco's expression did not change, but something dark clouded over his eyes.

"My," said the Dark Lord, wearing a particularly unsettling smile, "you see what your wife thinks of you, Draco?"

"It is no surprise to me, My Lord," Draco said honestly. "My wife is not shy when it comes to sharing her opinions."

"Nor facts," she interrupted angrily, "and here is one: I am not your wife!"

There was a brief silence in which neither man responded, and her voice echoed around them. Draco looked calm but she could sense the anger roiling beneath his skin. Voldemort on the other hand appeared amused.

"How can that be so?" he asked, voice coddling, as if she were a child refusing to go to bed. "You wear his ring. I see that mark on your arm-no, don't try to hide it, Lady Malfoy, I have seen it before anyhow. The spells on that ring are as binding as an Unbreakable Vow-your husband saw to that himself. I can sense them on you. Furthermore, your marriage has been documented and filed away at the Ministry like any other, my puppets took care of that."

"I wouldn't care even if the Minister himself married us," she hissed. "I was kidnapped and raped! Nothing was done with my consent!"

"I grow bored of this argument," the Dark Lord said in a warning tone.

Draco grabbed her by the arms roughly. "Regardless of what you think, little bird, we are legally married and there is nothing you can do to change it. I am your husband, you are my wife and you need to learn to accept it."

"I am not your wife," she insisted. It was hard to see through the tears gathering in her eyes. "I am your prisoner."

"Whatever label you want to put on it," he said angrily, leaning over her so that she bent at the waist. Their noses touched, his hand crept up to grab a fistful of her hair at the base of her neck. "The fact remains that you are mine. Even you admit it."

At this she wanted to protest-the warning look he gave her was enough to quell her voice. Without blinking, he held the stare for several seconds to make his point clear, and she finally pushed him away once he'd let go of her hair.

Hermione had had enough. Rage made her bold, and without saying another word, she turned and headed for the exit. This time she actually reached the door before something hit her in the back and she was unable to move. What had happened last time was still prominent in her memory, and Hermione struggled against the hold of the spell. She would rather brave Draco's fury at the Manor than a minute alone with Voldemort.

The immobilizing charm was exchanged for an Imperius, and Hermione made her way back to the center of the room, unable to resist the Dark Lord's summon.

"You may leave when I give you permission, and only then," he hissed, and Hermione felt how the spell manipulated her into feeling ashamed at what she had done, despite how she truly felt. A blush stained her cheeks and she bowed her head.

"Forgive me my Lord, I acted without thinking."

"That will do."

She raised her head and he stood before her. Cold and sharp, his fingers under her chin tilted her head up to meet his demonic gaze. He ran his knuckles along her temple.

"Your husband may enjoy it when you fight him but I am not a patient Lord and will not tolerate disobedience for long, though I do find you entertaining. Remember who your superiors are, witch."

"Yes, my Lord." The claw-like hand turned her head toward her husband, and she felt herself blush again with shame. A thick stripe of shadow concealed half his face but he didn't notice-his eyes were on her, angry and promising retribution. She began to shake.

"I'm sorry." The Dark Lord let her go and she went to him immediately and knelt at his feet. Automatically his hand wound into her hair and gripped tightly, forcing her to face him. "I'm sorry, Draco. Please forgive me."

His other hand stroked her cheek, soft as a whisper, and her blood ran cold. "I'll forgive you once we get home. Now get up."

The Imperius was ended as she stood back up. Draco made no move to touch her and she became doubly nervous. Fighting the embarrassment for what she had done under the influence of the spell, Hermione glared at the Dark Lord.

"Dare touch me again, and I swear upon my life death will find you as easily as I breathe."

Draco's hand tightened around his wand. Stupid girl. Brave, stupid girl.

If the threat moved the Dark Lord, he did not show it. There was a curious look in his gleaming eyes but it passed quickly, and his lips thinned.

"As easily as you breathe, you say?" he asked, smiling so his rotted teeth showed. The Dark Lord did not move but a spell was cast, and immediately Hermione's head jerked backwards as if someone had got hold of her hair and pulled hard without letting go. Her neck was exposed; Draco could see her rapid pulse. As he watched, an invisible force squeezed her throat hard enough to make Hermione gasp and he tensed.

"Tell me then, what would happen if you stopped breathing?"

"You won't kill me," Hermione replied evenly though her voice was slightly hoarse. "At least not yet. Harry and Ron have done something and you wanted answers so you had me brought here."

"Just so," his dry voice bounced around the hall. Hermione was released from the spell; when she brought her head back up she resumed her look of hatred. "I hope in time that stubbornness of yours will be corrected but we have devoted enough time to that matter today. Now, will you tell us what you know, little lioness? You will be rewarded if you do."

"I will tell you one thing," Hermione said. She had stopped shaking, but Draco's warning grip on her arm did nothing to calm her down. She'd drawn herself to her full height and there was that fierceness in her expression he loved so much, and would love more if she was not using it now when it could cost her her life, regardless of what she said. There was a pulse throbbing in his fist, it took him a moment to realize it was from her arm- strong, quick beats that felt as though they were meant to shake him off. Draco loosened his hold but did not let go.

"I know no more than the last time I was here." she said. "Or have you forgotten that your servant here has me bound to him in every way possible? It would be impossible for me to do anything without him knowing. You are wasting your time."

Draco chose to ignore her choice of words regarding him.

Servant? Aim higher, sweetheart. Much higher.

She was lying, and Draco knew it. There were few instances in which he had chosen to see into her mind, but they were enough to convince him she knew plenty. But the Dark Lord had only invaded her mind once; he had only met her once, whereas Draco had known her for years. The girl had been a blight in his life once, but he had grown and she became just the opposite. In the beginning he had learned things about her by chance, yet over the past year had studied her more carefully than any book he had ever read, and he fancied that by now he knew her better than anyone-even Potter and Weasely.

She was expecting him to oust her, he could tell. One look was all it took to hear the whirrings of the mechanics of that brilliant mind, possibly trying to formulate more lies should he do it.

So he could have called her out on her little lie and aid their side, but the Dark Lord had been right.

He was still angry.

She's got to have something up her sleeve.

Curious, he watched as the Dark Lord frowned and used Occlumency on Hermione, who was apparently ready this time. All the same, she stiffened against Draco and screwed her eyes shut but she made no sound until it was over. When her eyes opened again they were weary and bloodshot, but still defiant. A little trickle of blood ran from her nose. Draco pulled out his handkerchief and gently wiped it away.

He was thorough this time.

Voldemort was angry. It was obvious Hermione had won this round. No expression showed on his flat face as he studied Hermione, who glared back.

"You've done well with her, Draco. But I would not let that arrogance run rampant any longer. Teach her her place once and for all or I will."

Draco could feel Hermione bristle beside him; he applied more pressure to her wrist. "I will, my Lord."

The Dark Lord sneered. "Get her out of my sight."


The second they arrived back at the Manor Draco sensed something was amiss. Something felt wrong. The first thought that crossed his mind was that the wards had been breached and the Manor had been infiltrated-on instinct he pushed Hermione behind him roughly, looking around themselves for any sign of intruders. The lack of protests from her caught his attention, and he turned round to glance at her.

She feels it, too.

An impossible hope suffused the air around her as she looked around them, and it angered Draco.

Anyone who tries to take her from me will be drowned in their own blood.

A curious shuffling sound came to them from the living room, and at once Hermione dashed to it, to her supposed rescuers. He let her go this time; Draco knew better. If someone had been able to break in, he would have known by now. This had to be someone he trusted. It had to be Blaise.

He was proved right in the end. When he entered the living room he saw Blaise had seated himself quite comfortably on Draco's favorite armchair; he grinned at the pale wizard.

"I heard the Dark Lord is in high spirits today."

"I didn't see you there," Draco replied, grasping his friend's hand in greeting. Sensing Hermione try to leave the room, he turned towards her and called for her to stay. An indignant look crossed her face but she sat herself down away from them.

That will do for now.

"I wasn't summoned," Blaise said. "I have better things to do in Hogwarts, it seems. The renegades grow bolder; I've been attacked almost daily since last week."

"And what has Snape done to stop them?"

"Nearly everything he could think of, but it isn't enough. They're crawling around the castle like insects, holding meetings and practices and Merlin knows what else. For every ten the Carrows capture there's twenty more."

"You hear that, my love?" Draco asked Hermione, who had been listening in to their conversation quite keenly. "Don't look so dour, there's hope for you yet."
His tone was mocking and cruel, a cut designed for the insulting look of hope on her face earlier. It had hurt him more than he cared to admit, that look of such intense yearning to be taken away from him, from her rightful place.

Much to his irritation, she did not reply. Hermione faced the windows, which he had ordered Bogg to cover again. Addressing Blaise, he added, "What news of Longbottom?"

Blaise's face clouded. "Disappeared. We all saw him at dinner yesterday, then this morning comes word that the stupid sod tried to break into Snape's office. Filch caught him, but Longbottom broke free and no one's seen him since." He chuckled. "First years say he's hiding down in the dungeons. Upper years are betting on the possibilities of him either having gone into the Forbidden Forest or that he's dead."

Draco had not looked away from Hermione, and this time she did not disappoint him. Underneath her dark hair her face had turned white as snow.

I've got you now, sweetheart.

"He's not the only one, either. Since then loads more students have gone missing. The castle's been searched from top to bottom and nothing's been found." Blaise shifted in his seat and winced. Draco missed this, as he was still watching Hermione.

"Longbottom was the one suspected to be leader of the renegades, yes?"

"Both him and the Weasely girl, but her parents took her out of school months ago."

"When he is found, have him sent to me."

Her head snapped up, and she looked at him, horrified.

We'll see how hopeful you are when your friends are disbanded and punished. You should not long for anything but to be with me.

Blaise frowned. "Snape will want to deal with him first."

"He will be sent to me. Severus has enough on his plate, don't you think?" By the look in his eyes, Blaise didn't agree with him, but he nodded anyway and the subject was dropped.

Hermione was still watching him anxiously. Draco gave her a cold smile.


"Please don't hurt him."

Aha, he thought triumphantly. So concerned for your friend, aren't you?

He lay on his side, head propped up on one arm, his arm slung over her hip, tracing lazy patterns onto her vulva through her nightie. She was curled up on her side facing away from him, her hands tucked beneath her head as she tried to escape into her dreams.

After Blaise had gone Draco had taken her in the bedroom without mercy, still angry about her behavior when meeting the Dark Lord. She had suffered through it until the end, when he wondered aloud if he should take away her contraceptives as punishment, and only then she had hastened to beg for forgiveness, though he saw the contempt that remained deep within her eyes. In the end he had finally forgiven her, only after he made her take him in her mouth again. Now her reddened, puffy eyes were fixed onto the window as she tried to come to terms with what she had done willingly for the sake of self-preservation.

Within minutes she asked again, and Draco ignored her.

"You were hoping to be rescued today," he said. Hermione sniffled and resisted the urge to push his hand away from her-she had tried earlier, when he'd started, but had come to learn his patience was gone for the day. Her bottom still bore the red marks from his hand and she laid on her side to relieve the pain.

"I hope for it every day," she admitted quietly.

His hand paused and he looked away. I already knew this, yet it still stings.

Draco pushed himself off his side to straddle her, cupping her cheeks in his palms. He leaned in close, looked deep into her eyes.

"Listen to me carefully, little bird: It won't come."

If there was some way he could drill the words into her head he would do it. Here was her place; her new home and she should be happy.

Why aren't you, he wanted to ask her. Brown and beautiful, her eyes swam in a pool of tears but even through her sadness the rage was still there, burning eternal under her skin. He thought of that hope he'd seen in her eyes earlier, and jealousy twisted at his heart.

"No one is ever going to take you away from me. I will kill anyone that tries."

"Let go of me," she said in a whisper. "Please."

Reaching down between them he grasped her arm, the one he'd carved his mark into, and pressed down on the scar with his thumb as a reminder. When he pulled his hand away her flesh went red; the silver scars stood out clearly.

"I claimed you. No matter what happens you will always be mine."

Frightened, Hermione tried to push him away. "Stop it!"

He silenced her with his lips, crushing them against hers though she writhed underneath him, trying to roll away. With a bit of effort Draco secured her wrists and softened his kisses until she stopped, looking through him at the ceiling while tears tracked down her cheeks.

Her lips were so warm and soft, he couldn't keep his own away from them. Each kiss was a desperate plea, turning angrier when she never responded.

"Sing for me."

Catching a curly lock of her hair, he pulled it carefully, watching as she tried not to wince. She still would not look at him.

"I know you can hear me," he said, squeezing her hip. She winced again from the pressure but kept silent. "Sing or I'll tear out Longbottom's vocal chords once I get my hands on him."

I might just do it anyway.

"What would you have me sing for you, my lord?" the last two words were said in a tone that was meant to insult, but it had the opposite effect on him. She sounded tired and defeated though he knew come morning she would be a lioness again.

"Anything you like, I'm not picky," he said, and at last rolled off of her, lying on his side once more. "But sing it as if you were singing to Potter-I want you to mean it. And face me."

She faced him, but her eyes were closed as she began. It was a lovely one, he decided; sad but lovely.

It might be lovelier were she not thinking of Potter. I should not have brought him up.

As she sang, he listened carefully. The sentiment was sweet; it was a song of longing. Several times she repeated her desire for the moon to come, for a lover to return.

Draco wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into him, breathing her in. His hands pressed onto her stomach, onto her ribs, where he could feel the music vibrate. She felt so alive, with every word that left her throat, every note-it was a moment he intended to capture forever so he paid close attention, absorbed as most of it as he could. In short, he was the perfect audience of one.

Every now and then he almost broke the illusion-he'd squeeze too tight or twitch unintentionally and her closed eyes would tighten but she hardly faltered. Draco was fine with this as long as she did not stop.

Soothed by her voice, his eyes began to close. Holding back a sigh, he pressed his face into her neck and kissed her skin lightly.

Remember, remember, remember. You are singing to me, not him. I am here, not him. Think of me only.


And though she had tried to imagine that it was Harry lying there with her and not Draco, Hermione failed. It was Draco there, Draco who seemed to have broken himself into millions of little pieces and arranged them all around her, for wherever she went he was ever present on her mind. She felt herself covered by a dark, heavy veil, and that was Draco himself.

When he pulled her closer she wavered in her song but kept going. She knew his design, and was helpless to stop it. How could she remember when she'd never forgot?

She fell asleep shortly after finishing, but Draco stayed awake long afterwards. Her song played in his mind again and again, stirring his jealous heart, preventing him from sleeping.


A/N:

(Thanks to Sammy, who recommended the DCfC song!)