chapter 10

Practice

The flyer was the first thing he noticed as he checked the bulletin board for the new password. The bold letters at the top of the page. Educational Decree Number Twenty-four.

Since Professor Umbridge came to the castle, all she focused upon was Potter and his activities. It was not a difficult stretch to assume that this decree was directed toward him, his followers, and all others within the castle that supported his cause. One of those followers was Hermione Granger.

He read through the statement carefully. It spoke of student organizations and groups. Potter had his own. Or the Professor was under the impression that he did.

"What is the new password?"

A girl trudged up, overloaded with a lengthy cloak overtop her school robes.

"Phineas," he replied flatly.

Potter was up to something which meant Granger was up to something. She had given no indication of such happenings which led to only one conclusion: it was secret. Secret meetings, a hidden organization, Umbridge, and Potter.

He frowned. Life wasn't hell enough already. She had to find herself at the center of a new professor's hunt for rulebreakers.

That very morning, he received a letter from his own father that read with very haunting news.

Word has spread of your new pet. Are you mad, my son? Do you know the sensitivity of our situation? Our entirety depends upon success in our venture now, and a mudblood pet is no way to gain favor. The Dark Lord's ear has been filled with stories of your taming ability already. You must not fail now. I fear what might have prompted this need to tame Miss Granger, and I forbid you to give fire to it. A Malfoy must not feed into fantasies, Draco. Find your head before it costs us ours. Tame your pet. It will be at our family's loss if the mudblood is not all you claim her to be.

The Dark Lord's wrath did not need to be spelled out.

Draco felt the sudden pressure to contain her. She had to show she was not a wild Gryffindor, but an obedient pet.

It had been his goal. Once.

"How are things, Draco?"

The girl stayed within his company, something he hadn't noticed. He pulled himself away from the bulletin, not his frustration.

"Fine," he answered.

"Pansy still giving you trouble about Granger?" Daphne asked. She pulled out a file and started to tend to her fingernails with intensity.

He watched her movements for a minute, insulted at the statement, before he replied, "Pansy couldn't give a cat trouble, much less me."

"All she does is give me trouble." The witch snorted.

"Because she's a handful."

She eased his tension when she laughed at his joke. He suddenly relaxed into a chair, sinking deeper into the leather cushions, swallowed by comfort. It was a cold morning in Slytherin.

He awoke that morning to color on his breath. The glass of the windows was coated in a thin film of fog. Waters of the Black Lake were murky, filled with darkness after its name. Little light filtered through the depths.

Draco was drawn to more warmth. The flames of the common room fire were next to his leg, yet he felt minorly lifted from the frigid chill.

Daphne Greengrass adjusted the thick glasses on her face fallen crooked from her focus upon the little tops of her fingernails. "What is the purpose of your pet?"

"The purpose of Granger?" He sneered, amused. "I'd say it is obvious. What wizard wouldn't like a pet witch to do what he wishes?"

"I don't think that is the truth," she answered plainly.

His skin tensed. "What?" He barked.

"You're lying," Daphne said again, just as plainly as before. It held not spite, nor emotion. Just a statement of fact, as was Daphne's way.

Draco Malfoy made a point to hide himself very well away from the opinions of others. He did not care for them and did not wish to receive any such statements regarding his business. It was a vulnerability in armor he dared not wear.

Vulnerability made him uncomfortable.

He felt rips in his façade when Hermione neared. Emotions came quicker than he knew them to. Pieces of him melted away when she drew near, spoke to him, sparked his nerve. Something so infuriating and intriguing about a witch as that.

Draco adjusted himself in his seat. "I don't know what you mean."

"Sure, you don't."

Two sets of clobbering steps bounded near. They were attached to Goyle and Crabbe. A rush filled his blood. Draco did not want them knowing of the extent of his fascination with Granger. He shot Daphne a warning look. She didn't notice; her nail file was more important.

He internally groaned. If she said one word about it to anyone, he'd curse her twice.

A sudden shot of brown blur shot out between his friend's feet.

Goyle yelped, tripped over his own feet, and fell on top of Crabbe, who was not the least bit stable without his attention, who toppled the pair to the floor. Legs flailed. Crabbe's chin knocked against the grey rug. His teeth crunched together in a horrid sound. It set Draco's hairs on edge.

Daphne snickered. "Knew those two liked each other too much."

The mass of the two friends moved as a beached squid. A head popped out of the black and revealed a very disgusted Goyle.

"I hate that bloody thing!" He cried.

Of whom he spoke was the right hand of Draco. It greedily helped itself to his side, meowing and purring and clawing at his hand in plead for a quick pet.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You ought to watch where you walk."

"I do," the wizard grumbled as he retracted from his friend's cushion on the floor.

The other one rose to his knees. "She does it on purpose."

"I know," Goyle spat back.

"It's smart, I swear it is. It does things not like a cat," Crabbe said as he climbed back to his feet. His shirt tails were untucked from the waist of his pants. It bothered Draco to watch go unattended to.

He ran his fingers down the cat's furry back. A spine arch greeted his open palm.

Khalessi was unlike any creature he knew before. He much more liked it than at first.

She did his bidding without hesitation. It required so much attention that he was not given an excess amount of time to brood and stew as normal. It did wonders. Draco found himself happier just at the sight of the creature bounding toward him, a physical being of his relief.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's a cat, you nutter. Not a spy."

They looked at Draco with suspicion. "It might not be a spy. But it isn't no damn cat either."

"It pulls out all my socks, and things, and piles them across the room."

"She hates clutter," Draco stated. "Besides it's the only thing that gets you to clean up your space."

Goyle glared down at the fuzzy cat as it helped itself to Draco's lap. The wide set eyes were zeroed in around the creature. She started to swing back at him, claws extended, and a gentle hiss. It scared him. The wizard jumped away.

"See? It's out to get me."

The cat hissed again. She purred in satisfaction when Goyle took a seat near Daphne, across the room a way, far off from her master with whom she did not share attention. He was hers.

Draco chuckled. "Enough about Khalessi. Where's Granger?"

"Great Hall, studying," Crabbe answered.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why aren't you there? What if she leaves?"

The wizard laughed. "She won't."

"She took five books," Goyle further explained. "She's not going anywhere for a while. We figure three hours."

The Educational Decree was at the forefront of Draco's thoughts. Umbridge did things for reasons. Subtle, but obvious with thought. She suspected Potter. He was the one everyone was after with his tale of Diggory's death so heavily disputed. The Ministry was no fool. He'd been a nutter to go around spouting things the Ministry wasn't ready to hear. It took him from shining star to black stain.

Still. Draco filled with bitterness at this thought. The community loved him as their Chosen One. Power of the Ministry faded with each day that their stories differed. They needed ammunition against Saint Potter to diminish his reputation in the public.

Whatever they were after, it had to be very damning for the entire wizarding world to hate him. Draco hoped that what it was Umbridge was after would do that. He hated that smug face every time he danced by rules, by tradition, by him.

Harry Potter held himself a bloody king of the castle. Even the headmaster believed it!

Umbridge tamed down the edges of his reign. She tightened the noose around his activities, ready to suffocate his unruliness once and for all. He'd be happy to watch it all burn around the stupid Gryffindor in a blazing flame, however, Granger's neck was there with Potter's. It was not the time to cinch it. Not until she was free and loose of the mess.

She was his pet. To continue to play with her, he had to stamp out the her evolvement before it descended too far out of control.

He found her in the Great Hall, just as Crabbe said. Her hair was down her back in smooth waves. The loose strands of her bangs were pinned back behind her ear. She looked comfortable there with a book in her hand. As she read along in the dusty depths of the book, her lips moved with each word. Her puffy, pink, soft, sweet lips.

Draco tightened his tie against his throat. It surged the blood back to his head and not his…other one.

"Fancy finding you here," he stated as he took a seat across. They were the only ones on the bottom half of the table. The rest were sparsely dispersed amongst the tables and the room. Quite a few Gryffindors grouped together at the head of one table, murmuring quietly together. He recognized a few from classes. They were fifth years, like Granger and him.

"Fancy that." Her voice was flat. The monotone hit his ears wrong.

He glanced up from his book. "All not well in the land of Gryffindors? Uh oh. Are you no longer their beloved princess? Has there been a coup?"

Granger flipped through the pages of her heavy book. The scent of the book rose up between them. Vanilla flower and almond. He enjoyed it. Old books reminded him of his father's study at home. He loved to read next to the fire as his father worked at his desk, mumbling under his breath, cursing his cold tea, only pausing when Draco's mother, Narcissa, entered to check on them. He'd smile no matter how overwhelmed he was. A young Draco would watch his parent's kiss with a hot blush on his face before he reminded him that he was right there. He'd act disgusted when his mother came to give him a kiss, too, but truly, he felt loved. Those old books made him remember that very memory each time.

"You ought to know," she quietly snipped.

Draco clenched his jaw. He remembered why he was there.

"Educational Decree 24. I saw the flyer as has the rest of the castle. Something as idiotic as going against the Ministry reeks of Gryffindor. Whatever it is that Potter's up to, you better not be a part. Umbridge eats half breeds for breakfast. I wonder what she does with muggleborns."

Though her hand stayed against her work and attention focused ever downward, Granger had heard him. He heard it in her breath. The natural repetition was interrupted with a sputter.

He felt overcome with anger. "You really haven't learned your place if you think that is the position you need to take against a threat like Umbridge. Don't they teach you anything about subtly over in that Tower? The obvious target isn't always the one that needs extermination. More so, when you do things like this, it makes me look bad. And I'll not, you hear me?"

Noise of the other side of the table captured his attention. Their peers sat decidedly away from her. That was his will, of course. Draco liked the space from the other wizards, but Crabbe and Goyle weren't there.

All those lions should have surrounded her, absorbed her into their den, as was the nature of the mighty Gryffindor. His presence never scared them off. Not in their large pride with only one Slytherin opponent. It was something else that kept them away.

She exhaled sharply out of her nose. Her lips turned white as they formed a thin line.

"Something to say, pet?" A bemused grin, a tease he'd admit, contorted his mouth. He expected resistance. She was not broken in yet.

A thrill tingled the base of his spine. His fingers missed the excitement of a good duel. It'd gotten rather too peachy at Hogwarts without the promise of a duel with Potter and the tosser Weasley. He needed an outlet for all the pending frustrations that mounted in his throat, his father's letter, the Dark Lord, his troubling pet, all made for a weight of stress that affected his confident gate.

He was furious at her lies, as he knew she would lie for Potter until the Dark Lord pulled down the stones of the castle, but he knew it was their hold on her that made it so. Still, he saw his hold in her.

Ever so slow, the identity of his pet was coming to fruition.

"I'm not your pet," she snapped below her breath. "You broke the terms of our agreement. The contract is void."

A scoff erupted from his mouth before he realized. That was not a welcome surprise.

"Are you out of your blooming mind? I've not broken anything." His mouth hissed rather sharply. "Our contract is still valid."

When Granger raised her gaze, brown eyes of molten rock met his with resistance. Pieces of her set in place, a literal wall of stubbornness bound to fight with him the whole way. He growled, as if in anger, but the growl erupted more of excitement. A verbal joust was soon arrived. She'd fight him. All her logic poured into whatever argument; he'd counter every point in another view so it painted different. Eventually she'd feel guilty. He'd win.

"You fought with Harry and lost Gryffindor 10 points."

"It's not my fault that the freak Longbottom got his knickers in a twist."

"Because of what you said!"

"The point still stands, Granger. I did nothing to break the terms of our contract. Weaslebee and Potter involved themselves in an attack against me, not the other way around." He made a point to pause so that her attention was on him. They shared a brief moment of eye contact. "Remember what I said. Their expulsion would not stop me. I want you. I want you for myself, pet. You are the center of my focus."

Her anger diffused. Slightly. She shifted in her seat. "I know."

She flipped a section of thick hair over her shoulder and ruffled the curls. The sweet chocolate color was luscious through the length. It was a stark comparison to the nature of the beast when she first arrived at Hogwarts. It looked an awful nest atop her head. Frizz and broken strands every which way.

It changed. She changed almost overnight. One day she was typical know-it-all Hermione Granger, Merlin's blessing to the world, and then that night, the night of the Yule Ball, she became a Hermione Granger, hot bitch witch.

That was when she started getting noticed by other wizards. He noticed their gazes. It lingered long on her figure. He was not blind. They started to watch as she walked, here and there, noticed when she reached for a book a little too tall for her and the hem of her skirt lifted above the knee.

The bastards wouldn't get a look now.

"Every moment of your time is mine, remember, pet?" He asked carefully. Draco had every intention to keep the witch his. It may have changed since the beginning when he first took her as his, but the truth remained the same. "You'll never be free of me."

Her eyes drifted back to her book. "I'm starting to believe that."

He smirked. "Excellent. The easier it will be for you then."

Both settled into a quiet compliance. Their schoolwork was the center of their focus. He was content with her near. Hermione worked on her potions essay before returning to her large book Hogwarts: A History. Draco read through herbology and charms text, fingering the pages delicately so not to damage them with little creases.

The Great Hall flowed with students in and out. The soft lullaby of murmuring voices a constant as they worked. A chorus of quill scratches, page turns, the slide of the tip into inkwells. Across the table, Granger glowed against the candlelight as she worked, a gentle smile atop her lips as she read. The guise of schoolwork gave him a direct view of her, up close.

The longing to own her swallowed him whole. He wanted that place in front of her, on either side, everywhere she turned. That place was his. Her kiss was already claimed under the Malfoy flag. Not that it mattered. He didn't want her sexually. Oh no.

But a distinct flicker of pleasure aroused below his beltline at the image of her excited fingers against his flesh, chosen over the two bumbling nightmares she roamed with. It was not much of a choice either. He was the clear winner. She quivered beneath his kiss. Not a word of resistance whispered between breaths as their faces collided. The taste of her minty breath filled his mouth.

He spiraled down a hole of fantasy in the blink of an eye. His mind filled with her hips pressed his, the hot tingle of her fingers against his thighs, and the sharp intake of breath when he entered the slippery core. He practically felt the course curls between his fingers as he imagined holding it as an anchor to his body.

The only way it stopped was when a few seventh-year students passed by with boisterous laughter. It brought his heighted joy to frustration. He couldn't actually shag her. His imagination was all he got!

The wizards were distracted as they walked the aisle. One of them bumped into his pet's back. She slammed against the table with a thud. A startled gasp echoed from her lungs as she struggled for a breath. Their disturbance was met with a sharp glare of Malfoy grey eyes.

"You'd think a wizard as thick as you had at least mastered the art of walking." Draco growled like a dragon. He saw Granger wipe behind her eyes. It made his heart fiery strong. "Come near her again and I'll give you a lesson in crawling because those giant's legs will no longer work."

They stared on at him with wide eyes.

"Go. Get out." He spat. One started to move forward with an arm extended. "Don't. Just don't. No apologies."

One of them had the audacity to open his mouth. Draco stopped him short. "Did I stutter? Leave. Now."

Embarrassed, the group left the Great Hall. They left in an uproar of silence since the entire room had heard.

Eventually the room settled back to its normal hum of voices and quiet panic of forgotten assignments and too long essays. Attention drifted to their own business.

Draco glanced Granger's chest. Heat came to her cheeks as she removed her hand from between her breasts.

"It's fine," she murmured.

"Like hell it is. Color like you got. You'll bruise like a peach."

She snorted. "Honestly, you're lighter than I am."

"That's different. I'm a Malfoy." He flicked open a textbook. It stood on end atop the tabletop. "We're hard as ice."

A little while longer, a tea pot, two teacups on little saucers, a dish of sugar cubes and a vial of cream appeared between the pair. Teatime. All the other tables had the same setup appeared at their table, too. Draco finished his chapter before he set to help himself to it, but he found a cup already poured and pushed to his side. Granger had one, too. She was nose deep lost within her reading.

He sipped a long hot gulp. It filled him up with warmth. The familiar burn in his eyes lifted as he blinked back the book dust.

Draco put the cup back down in its saucer. "That reminds me. You should have a letter."

Her brows lifted from her eyes. "A letter?"

He gave her that all knowing look. "I'm not an idiot, pet. Your letter to Krum. Where is it?"

Krum and Granger exchanged letters often. He witnessed the owl deliver his letters twice a week. It was obvious whom it was that sent it by the odd shaped Bulgarian envelope, narrow and long.

A letter was delivered the previous morning. Goyle watched her draft the letter in the library.

An envelope was slid over. Unsealed.

Viktor Krum was a larger chump that Draco originally took him for. He waved the paper between his fingers. "This is what you two write to one another?"

"Yes. What's wrong with it?" Her brows pushed together in confusion.

"It's boring, that's what." His eyes scanned the letter once more. Not a single curse word to be found.

Granger's attention was captured enough to push aside her book. "And I suppose you're not boring, eh?"

"Not enough to ask a witch 'how is the weather over there?' like a complete dolt."

"What would you ask instead?" She challenged with a bite in her tone. "How are the mudblood's faring? 'They're doing all too well for my taste. Why, I don't know why they don't just drop dead. Better yet, why don't I help them?'"

Her mocking tone was not appreciated. He chose not to hear it.

"A person's favorite book reveals much about themselves that they don't realize. I judge them based on that answer. And, I never forget to ask it."

He handed back the letter with his consent to post. There was nothing in it to alarm him. Better yet, she was not resisting him as hard. That was a delighted victory. He was much closer to control.

Sometime later, he started to gather his things and placed them inside his satchel. He nudged her to pack up to. She huffed in frustration but complied.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"Quidditch practice."

She paused. "I can't study there."

"Well then I guess you'll have to do what it's meant for and watch."

The day was gloomy on the Pitch. Clouds filled the sky with nothing but a gray mist. It was dry, luckily. No one else was at the Pitch. It left a lonely reception when they descended upon the empty expanse.

Granger shivered when she gazed up at the tall towers that encompassed the oval arena. The towers were adorned in the colors of each house. Green and silver for Slytherin. Red and gold for Gryffindor. Yellow and black for Hufflepuff. Blue and bronze for Ravenclaw. He watched the fabrics sway in the wind as they marched to the locker room beneath the wooden stands.

Wind would hinder his job as a Seeker. The snitch loved to ride the gusts of wind. It made it nearly impossible to capture one of the fastest flying objects known to wizarding kind that much harder when the wind aided its escape. Draco clenched his jaw. It would take a trained focus.

"Where do you want me?" She asked with a sigh. Her hands plunged into the depths of her Sherpa jumper. The high collar stood taller than her jaw. She snuggled her face within the fluffy pink jumper as he imaged a nipper would a blanket.

"I suppose any place will do."

"The castle," she answered swiftly.

Leave it to her to ruin his gracious mood.

"Sit up there at center field," he instructed. "It'll be easier to keep an eye on you there, pet."