"What were your dreams?"

It replayed in his head, over and over. Seeing her tired, brown eyes begging for him to show an ounce of humanity. She was pleading with him to say something that could make him redeemable. But Draco knew nothing he could ever say or do would ever let him see the pearly gates of heaven or the forgiveness in Hermione's eyes. He hadn't thought much about what he wanted to be before the war. Since he was a young boy, he'd imagined he'd follow in his father's footsteps. But Draco always thought he'd be better than him. The day he saw his father strike his mother across the face, he swore to himself that he'd never become a monster like Lucius Malfoy.

Oh, how ironic life could be.

Draco never wanted to be feared, he wanted to be respected. Lucius was feared, no one dared to cross him. Draco used to count the days until he could return to Hogwarts to escape the wrath of his father. There was always guilt when he was able to escape, because he would be leaving his mother behind to brunt the full force of Lucius Malfoy's terror.

His worst nightmare came true.

"You're here with me. So, tell me, what were your dreams?"

It didn't so much matter to him anymore what they were. His dreams now were to end the war. To follow in the footsteps of a man tried to do right. A father to him when he had none. The man who had given him a family, something to cling to when everything had been taken from him.

He looked around the room, his own office in the Ministry. The decor was gaudy and extravagant, expensive but lifeless. Voldemort's hand of destruction deserved to sit at gold trimmed desk and lavish chair after a day of murder. If Lucius saw him now, he'd finally tell him he was proud of his son.

But in his head, it wasn't his father's voice haunting him. It was hers.

"You're not dead. You're here with me."

The coin in his pocket vibrated a soft hum. It was a clear indication to Draco the extent of Voldemorts cruelty. While the Order summoned their members with a gentle tap, Voldemort branded his with a mark that would burn until they were at his feet.

It was routine for Draco now to meet with Harry and Moody every few weeks. They would call upon him more often than he showed up, but they seemed more insistent now that Hermione was in his care, if one could call it that. They'd meet at some abandoned shack or off in the countryside, Draco would tell them about prisoner or supply transfers, a tip on the location of a horcrux if he had one, and they'd part ways. In return, they'd respect his demands at the conclusion of the war.

Draco apparated to their meeting point, and there waiting was Harry Potter himself, the Chosen One, in an old barn standing next to Mad-Eye Moody.

If you had told him years ago that he would be assisting Harry fucking Potter and his little Order to defeat the Dark Lord, he would have laughed in your face:

"Where have you been? We've been calling for you for days now," Harry asked.

"You do realize I have a job to upkeep? I'm not just your lackey," Draco shook his head. "You're like an overbearing girlfriend, always asking where I've been. If you keep going like this, Potter, I may start thinking you miss seeing my face."

Harry stood up straight, staring him down. It seemed as if it were supposed to be intimidating, but Draco thought it was more endearing and pathetic than anything.

"Cormac has been taken, we need him back."

"Impossible. He's in Ministry holding. I can't just release him, you know that." Draco shook his head, annoyed at such a demand. "Besides, one of your other Order members Oblivated the fuck out of his mind as he was being taken. Not like he's going to be a liability. Bloke doesn't even know his own name."

Harry went silent, pacing the length of the old barn. Draco watched him carefully, listening to the sound of his pounding heartbeat and deep breaths. He knew very well that high ranking Order members were harder to free than a hundred of his foot soldiers. Draco wished he would come to his senses quicker.

"How is she doing?" Harry finally asked as he calmed himself.

"She's just fine. My wife adores her. She's even joined a book club."

Harry raised an eyebrow, confused. Draco saw it on his face that he wasn't convinced. "Book club?"

"Yes, the girls host it every few weeks. They read these dreadful romance novels and…"

"Is she still being…"

"Tortured? Beaten? Yes. But you're the one who gave her to me, so I don't see why you're so concerned. You knew very well what would happen."

Harry's hands balled into fists. Draco knew he was restraining himself from drawing his wand.

"Don't be angry with me, Potter. You accepted the deal. Granger for a horcrux."

"You said you'd protect her."

"I am protecting her. She's alive. Do you know how hard it is to do that? She practically begs to be killed with how annoying she is." Draco have a dry laugh before his face went cold and serious. "She needs to give him something though, he's getting impatient."

Harry and Moody spoke for a few minutes. They bickered like a married couple. The old man and young stag, dueling it out before him. Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes, feeling as if they were in a wasting his time.

"There's an supply bunker outside Liverpool, it's an abandoned bank. She knows. Give us three days to prepare it. Make sure you're nowhere in sight," Harry demanded.

Draco smiled, "As you wish, Lord Potter."

—

"Where were you?" Teddy asked as he sat in Draco's chair, feet on his desk. Draco would have thrown a lesser man out of the room, but this was no lesser man. It was Theodore Nott, his best friend. The only reason why they had ever gotten close was because Teddy wasn't scared of him. Teddy had always pushed his buttons, and contuined to till this day, even after he turned.

Draco trusted him with his life. And even more, he trusted them with the Greengrasses lives.

There wasn't a bad thought in him. When he looked at Daphne, it wasn't lustful and disgusting like other men. It was love. Not that Draco thought he'd knew what that would be like in a romantic sense anyways. But when he had seen Teddy's think about Daphne, he knew that he'd go to the end of the world for her. Just like him.

"Official business, too many clearances for you to get through to know."

"Ah yes, you are Daddy's special boy, aren't you?"

Draco leaned against the wooden desk, smirking at Teddy. "Maybe because I actually do my job, Teddy. Ever think about that?"

Theodore scoffed and made a pouty face, "He gives me the most impossible jobs sometimes. You try wrangling a heard of wild Thestrals and I'll go drink with the mudblood."

"Teddy, I promise you that her temperament is worse than any dragon you've tried to tame."

"I haven't a singular idea what you're talking about. Hermione is quite pleasant, have you ever tried, I don't know, being nice to her?"

Draco laughed at that prospect. Being nice to Hermione Granger? He hadn't remembered a time when he had actively tried to do that. And it was intentional, she needed to stay enraged with him, it was the only way he knew she would focus on his curse rather than an escape route. On top of that, he quite liked seeing her angry. There was a wildness about her that excited him when he saw the hate in her eyes and when she spit nasty words at him.

She, in turn, also made him feel a frustration that was beyond anything he'd ever encountered. He was quick to anger, but something about Hermione set him over the edge. Her big mouth, the way she disregarded every word he uttered, how she knew exactly what to say to make him want to sink his teeth into her skin.

But as much as he was pushed to his limits, she had a way of reeling him back. The touch of her hand on his chest made his heart nearly stop, her brown eyes trying to find his gaze, how she could show him a second of kindness despite who he was.

He hated how addictive it was to be emotionally whiplashed by her. It was intoxicating how she could manage to rile him in a matter of seconds, and then make him feel completely calm the next.

"I hate you."

He couldn't stop thinking about her. How warm she felt against him, the quakiness of her bottom lip when she shook with anger, brown eyes that he wanted to get lost into, He hated her, but he couldn't stop thinking about her.

But he made himself.

Occulmency had its perks, and he used this to stop thinking about the mudblood.

"Teddy, it's a chore even to be nice to you."

"But you have to," he said in a sing songy voice. "I'm the only one who can put up with your shit. Well, besides Tori, but she's an anomaly."

Teddy fidgeted with a crystal ball that was on the desk, rolling it around in his hand haphazardly. It was a gift to him from the Carrows, some anicent crystal ball found in the depths of Gringotts or something. Draco couldn't remember, he had been gifted a ton of useless shit from followers of Voldemort to gain some sort of respect. He couldn't give a single fuck about any of it.

Teddy set the ball back down, "Some of the guys and I are going to the pub tonight, care to join? It's been a while since…"

"You know I hate that shit, Teddy."

"I know, I know. I just thought I'd ask," he replied, a hint of sadness in his voice. "They used to be your friends too."

"They're not my friends, you're my friend. I hate the rest. Besides, I've got plans tonight anyways."

"Please for the love of Merlin do not tell me you're going to see Pansy."

"What can I say? I like them nasty and evil."

"You need to move on, I get like 'first loves' or whatever, but she's just using you, Draco."

He shrugged, "Not like I'm not getting nothing out of it. I'm getting laid."

"Yeah but you could get laid by someone who isn't fucking horrible and just waiting for Tori to die to take her place. Like that one Natalie girl you were fooling around with, she was so nice. Great tits too."

"Do you know who you're talking to? Maybe we deserve each other because of how horrible we both are," Draco laughed. "I'm done talking about this, just let me get my cock wet and you go have fun with the boys."

Theodore sat up from the chair and Pat Draco on the shoulder before leaving. "You hang out with too many women, Daph, Tori, Pansy, Granger. Consider just one night coming out with me again. Like old times."

—

"What are you thinking about?" Pansy asked as she kissed his shoulder. They laid naked together in bed in her downtown London flat. She had moved out of her parents years ago, saying she wanted to be independent, but Draco knew very well they were still paying for her extravagant apartment.

Half of the shit that filled it was stuff Draco had bought for her as well. The large onyx colored vanity for her to do her makeup, the set of China she used to entertain guests, the four post bedset he fucked her in. All on the Malfoy dime.

And Pansy's thoughts? They started out nice enough when they were both young. As she grew older though, she became more of a zealot and even more obsessed with Draco. He didn't bother even trying to see what was on her mind, she said everything she was thinking out loud.

"Nothing," he said. "Just a long day."

"You're telling me, that mudblood of yours nearly told Tori about us today in front of the entirety of book club. She's horrid. Worse than school days. Tell me you're getting rid of her soon."

Draco groaned and pushed her away. "Don't talk about the mudblood, I'm begging you. I've heard enough about her today."

"How could I not? She's mucking up your home and turning Tori against me." Pansy scoffed.

"You've done plenty of that for yourself, don't you think?"

Pansy playfully slapped his arm. "This is your fault, you know. You being here. Sneaking behind Tori's back and all."

"Yes, this falls solely onto me," he said sarcastically.

"You told me you loved me well before you ever said it to her, remember that, Draco." Her voice was demanding.

Draco had recalled saying he loved her after they took each other's virginities in third year. He said it to her one single time, and never uttered those words to her again. A moment of vulnerability on his end, and he regretted it.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "We were kids, Parkinson. That meant nothing then."

"Then why are you here in my bed and not Tori's? She's not gonna be around forever, you know. And you're not gonna turn her. You don't have the fucking balls to."

Draco quickly had his hand on her throat, his lips pressed against her ear, "What makes you so fucking sure about that?"

Pansy laughed, trying to provoke him further. "Draco, we've been together for over ten years, you don't think I don't know you? I know you better than anyone."

"Don't ever talk about Tori's life like that, I promise you, she will outlive you," he spat.

"You'll kill me before you ever turn her," Pansy's voice was teasing, setting him off. Though he had just gotten done with her, he felt his cock twitch again, stirring as she continued to berate him. "You're too much of a bitch to ever go through with either. You couldn't kill me. You'd miss me too much, I give you everything you want."

"Fuck you," he mumbled. He climbed on top of her, nipping at her skin as he kissed her jaw, gripping her thighs. His finger ran through her sleek black hair as she moaned out his name.

"Yes, Draco. Fuck me," she begged.

He wondered what sound Hermione would make if he ran his fingers through her curly mess of hair like this. Would she even say his name at all? Or would it sound like how she did when her blood spilled into his mouth? Soft and breathless.

She tasted so fucking good.

"You're here with me."

Draco's arm started to sting as the Dark Mark's eyes began to glow. Voldemort was calling, and nothing sours a mood faster than that.

"God damn it," he grumbled, pushing off of Pansy. As quick as he went flaccid, he threw on his clothes and apparated away.

—

Dressed in his Death Eater cloaks and adorning his emerald jeweled mask, he knelt before Voldemort. It took an insurmountable amount of control to not let his disgust and discontent show.

If he knew it would work, he would kill him on the spot and take his fucking place. He'd burn down the entire Ministry within hour. But Voldemort would always come back, and would always have someone more than willing to take the place he worked tirelessly to fill.

Voldemort's dark eyes watched him as he rose from the ground. His yellow teeth peeked from behind his thin lips, in a smile of sorts. "Ah, my Nightmare. The Order member Goyle captured, he is not of sound mind. My attempts to read it have been fruitless."

Goyle stood up from one of the steps closest to the throne. "We can use him though, on your mudblood. Make him cry, make her talk."

Voldemort set his forehead against his spindly fingers. "He's been going on about it. Very determined to make it happen. Bring the mudblood in tomorrow for this, Vampire. She's about overdue for her weekly session, isn't she?"

"Yes, my Lord."

When Draco arrived home he would have gone straight to his room to try to get a few hours to sleep. But he hear a stirring from the third floor, and knew Hermione would be there. Silently, he made his way up the staircase as he normally did to observe her,

She sat alone at a table with books spread around her. A green silk robe was drawn over her shoulders, and her hair fell down over it, wrapping her body in brown curls. Her face was scrunched as she read softly to herself, as if she was concentrating hard on the words of the page.

As the warm light of the room illuminated her face, he noted how soft she looked. Her cheeks were full, the subtle curve of her nose, the pillowiness of her lips. Her fucking lips drove him mad, the way they would spit venom at him and how it quivered when he had tasted her blood.

He breathed deeply.

Stop. Thinking. About. Her.

"Awake again, Granger? I'm starting to think you sleep even less than me."