"I can't believe you're paying for all this shit," Daphne said, looking around the ballroom at the extravent decor. Hung paintings of Pansy Parkinson were strung about with lavish purple curtains that framed them.
"Astoria insisted," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "This is the last time I'm doing anything for her, I swear."
"That's what you said last time. Now we're about to host 200 people for someone's 27th birthday party. It's not even a milestone year," Daphne annoyingly said.
Theodore chimed in, wrapping his arm around her waist, "Babe, didn't your 27th cost over 800 galleons?"
"Yeah but it's my family money too," she scoffed.
Draco leaned against one of the banquet tables, resting his head in his hand. "For real this time, I'm done with her. Told her to stop seeing Tori too."
"Oh, now that Draco's got the mudblood to distract him he's finally coming to his senses." Daphne shook her head and crossed her arms.
"I'd take Granger over Parkinson any day," Theodore said. "She gave me a book the other day about flobberworms. Isn't that sweet?"
Daphne glared at him, and Theodore laughed heartily, filling the large ballroom with his bellowing.
"The mudblood hasn't given me any gifts," Draco laughed with Theodore. "What the hell have you been doing?"
"She's given you plenty I'm sure," Theodore said, smacking Draco's shoulder.
"You both are disgusting," Daphne scolded.
Astoria entered the ballroom doors in a green robe that looked as if it were swallowing her whole. Her eyes were tired, but despite that, a smile was plastered on her lips.
"What's so funny?" Astoria asked, wanting to join in on the commotion.
"Nothing," the three of them said in unison.
Astorias smile faded and she looked at the ground. Her arms folded around herself. Daphne walked over to her little sister and brushed hair away from her face. "Are you excited for tonight? Anything I can do to help?"
"Pansy should be here soon, we could use all of your help with putting together the last bit of decorations. It could be fun, all of us working on it together," Astoria smiled again.
The last thing Draco wanted to do was to be around Pansy after their fallout a few days prior. She had kept trying to contact him, even coming by his office several times but he ignored her. He ignored her as much as Hermione was ignoring him.
"Sorry, Tori. I have to take Granger to the Ministry today," Draco said, glad to have an excuse to not be around Pansy but dreading bringing Hermione back to the Death Chamber.
Draco found it more difficult to do many aspects of his job now because of her. He found himself counting each Order member he's killed, recognizing their faces from his school days. Not because he felt guilty by any means, but simply because it would hurt her.
"Today? Is she going to be okay to go to the party tonight though?"
Theodore patted Astoria on the top of her head. "I'm sure she'll be fine, Tori. She's a tough gal."
"I thought Pansy didn't want her there anyways," Daphne interrupted. "Wouldn't it be best for everyone if she just rested in her room tonight?"
"She deserves to have fun too," Astoria said.
"I don't think it will be fun for her," Draco argued.
Astoria crossed her arms. "I asked her and she said she'd come."
Draco sighed, knowing that if Astoria would ask anything of them, they'd say yes no matter how ridiculous the request. How could you refuse Astoria? Someone so sweet and at death's door. It was the perfect combination for any 'yes' answer.
After saying goodbye and leaving before Pansy could arrive, Draco found Hermione in the library where he was buried in a stack of books. She didn't acknowledge him when he stepped loudly on the third floor landing.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked her. Hermione scribbled a few notes onto a piece of parchment. Despite Astoria filling her closet with the latest in witch fashion, she always opted for muggle attire, wearing a tshirt and jeans. Her hair was braided back, and Draco couldn't help but stare at the nape of her neck. It had been a while since he had last fed enough to sustain him, and he thought about how good she tasted on his tongue.
The desire to feed on her was strong, but he had enough self control to not rip her apart. Even then, he still imagined tearing away at her flesh, draining her of every drop, feeling her soft skin under his nails.
"As ready as I can be."
"Do you remember the plan?"
"Show him the base in Liverpool."
Harry had told them to reveal the base to Voldemort so they could take out more of his forces. They'd be armed and prepared for the battle. Draco walked behind where she was sitting and rested his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. "Can you manage?"
She sighed deeply, resting her cheek against his hand. "I have no choice."
It took her three hours to reveal the piece of information. Three hours he watched as she writhed in pain. Her nose bled, her body shook, and she was covered in sweat by the time she had figured out how to get the information to Voldemort. The past few days she had refused to practice her Occlumency with Draco. Stubborn, insufferable, prideful Granger. If she had just let him near her to help, she wouldn't have to suffer.
But at the end of it all, he knew he was the reason why she was here.
He wanted to kill Voldemort right then and there. But he had to bite his tongue and hold his emotions back. If he let it slip, everything Cornelius had done would have been for nothing. Everything he was risking would be jeopardized. He had to think of Daphne and Astoria.
No matter how much Hermione had consumed his thoughts, his priorities were aways them.
He lifted her limp body from off the ground, her muscles seizing from the Cruciartis curse. It felt as if she was on fire.
"Vampire," the Dark Lord called to him. Draco looked at him through the silver mask he wore, clutching Hermione. "Make sure you wipe every single one of those Order members from that base. I want the raid done by the end of the week."
"Yes, my lord," he replied.
They were back at the manor in the blink of an eye. Draco carried her up the stairs to her room, feeling her temperature rising. Her body was still spasming from the nerve pain caused by the curse.
As he leaned down to set her on the bed, he felt her arms wrap tighter around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. She hadn't spoken or opened her eyes, but he knew what she wanted.
He sat against the headboard of the bed and cradled her, pressing her burning body against his cold skin, hoping to reduce her fever and dampen her pain. Draco wiped her brow of sweat and draped his arms around her, holding her on his chest.
They sat in silence and Draco focused on her beating heart, familiarizing himself with the rhythm. It played like a lullaby in his head, and he nearly dozed off alongside her.
"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Malfoy," she said weakly, her hot forehead pressed into his neck.
"Just hang on a little longer. There's just one more horcrux left, then he'll be gone and the war will be over," he assured her.
"This is your fault." Her hand gripped his shirt tightly as she trembled.
He held her close, "I know."
"After this war, I'm going to kill you," she nearly whispered, he felt her heartbeat become faster.
"I know."
Hermione fell asleep again, and he laid still, even after he heard the murmurs and commotion from the guests arriving at the manor. He was still in his Death Eater robes, his mask sitting on the bed next to them. Of all the horrific things he has done, having Hermione Granger clinging onto him for comfort must have been one of the more evil things on the list.
To leave her with nothing but him, the monster who had taken her away, watched her be tortured, and isolated her from her world.
But he wanted her. And as fucked up as the situation was, he was glad she was holding onto him. He traced his fingers over her skin, trying to mark her as his, hoping that somehow his touch would make her want him as he desired her.
You don't deserve her, the voice inside his head whispered over and over again, making him clutch onto her tighter.
A soft knock came at Hermione's door, and Astoria's head poked in. Draco looked at her with a sadness in his eyes that only she could ever see.
"Is she okay?" Astoria whispered.
"She will be," he replied. "Go have fun, Tori. I'll be down in a second. I just want to be here a little while longer."
Astoria smiled and nodded, but there was still worry on her face. After she left, Draco closed his eyes, falling asleep with Hermione in his arms.
He felt her stir a little while later, attempting to unravel herself from his grasp. Draco pulled her back. "You need to rest."
"I'm rested," she insisted. "I told Astoria I would come to the party."
"You don't have to, you know."
Hermione laughed softly, "You of all people have no business telling me that I can say no to that girl. I'm fine, just a slight headache."
Her temperature had cooled off and she did look more alert than before. But he did want to selfishly protest so she would stay in bed with him. If she left to the party, that meant he would have to as well.
"If I don't show face to the socialities of pure-blood society, they'll catch on. I'm playing my part, you have to too," she said, sitting up on the bed. As she sat straight, she winced.
Hermione made her way to the bathroom, and Draco heard the shower turn on. He excitedly jumped from the bed and made his way towards her. To his surprise, he saw Hermione naked, leaning against the counter. His eyes widened in horror when he saw the bruises on her hips and waist from where he held her.
"Don't look at me like that," she said.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm weak or frail or something. I'm not."
Draco undressed himself and pulled Hermione into the shower. The warm water poured over her head, and her shoulders relaxed. He began to lather her in the floral soaps, massaging her aching body. The whimper and moans she made as he touched her made him hungry. He pressed his hard cock against her soft stomach, and her arms wrapped around his neck. It was a beautiful sight to him, to see her soaking wet, breasts pressed against his chest, a longinging look in her eyes.
Draco leaned down and kissed her cheek, down to her chin, to her neck, avoiding her lips that were quivering, begging to be touched.
All he could do was drown in her. He couldn't think of anything else but her.
They were both so consumed with each other that they hadn't heard the door of Hermione's room open or notice that Pansy Parkinson was standing there, watching in disgust.
"You're fucking the mudblood? That's why you broke up with me?" Pansy said loudly, startling Hermione. She hid behind Draco as he groaned in annoyance.
"Get the fuck out, Parkinson," he yelled.
Pansy laughed hysterically, shaking her head, "Wait till Tori hears about this. About all of it."
Without another word, she stormed out of the room. Draco grumbled to himself before exiting the shower. He conjured a set of clothes on him before leaving to find her. She was in the hall before he caught up to her, and he pressed her against the wall, staring into her eyes.
"You've caused enough trouble, if you tell her about our little affair, I will make every day a living hell for you."
"Little affair? Draco, nothing about what we've had was ever little," she mumbled, tears starting to form in her eyes.
Draco heard the familiar tapping of heels down the hall, and Astoria looked at the both of them, confused.
"There you are, Pansy. Is everything alright? What's going on?" Astoria asked.
"Nothing," Draco and Pansy replied in unison. Draco backed away from her, and she made her way to Astoria.
"It's almost cake time, Pansy. Everyone's waiting for you," she said, giving a look to Draco before they disappeared down the stairs.
—
The raid at the Liverpool base was going exactly how the Order had planned it. They were well prepared, and Voldemort's forces were outnumbered. Draco put on an act, throwing non lethal curses and hexes, using his pure intimation to scare people away instead of harming them.
It was all going to fucking plan, until another Gryffindor threw a wrench in it.
He wished it were anyone else, but it was Neville fucking Longbottom. Alone. Cornered. And he would have let him go without issue, but Goyle and a crew of snatchers were at his side.
Don't try to be a fucking hero, Longbottom. Run away this one time for fuck sake.
If captured, especially with Goyle here, he would be tortured to all hell in the presence of Hermione. He couldn't have that happen again. The dead look in her eyes, her purple lips shivering in the bath. In addition to that, he probably held so many Order secrets in his head.
He could kill Goyle now and as many snatchers as he could, but one would surely get away. There didn't seem to be too many options left.
Run, Longbottom. Apparate away.
"He's valuable, that one," Goyle said. "Keep him alive."
"Longbottom? Valuable? Maybe if we were keeping mandrakes and not fighting a war," Draco protested.
"He's mates with Potter and the mudblood. He's bound to know something, or get the mudblood to sing at least."
Draco grit his teeth, hoping at any second Neville would disappear. But he didn't, he stood his ground, looking him dead in the eyes.
Fucking Gryffindors.
He sank his fangs into Neville's throat, draining him quickly of his life. Blood rushed from him and Draco's thirst became satiated, feeling relief as his stomach filled. Neville's body dropped to the floor, pale and lifeless.
"He didn't know a damn thing," Draco smiled his bloody lips at Goyle.
Goyle scoffed and Apparated away as they heard the footsteps of Order members approaching. Draco followed in suit, and went straight to his office. Voldemort had lost the mission and a valuable asset, he knew he was fucked. The Dark Lord would punish him for this, and worst of all, Hermione would too.
Just as he was making progress with her, he was now covered in her friend's blood.
As he thought about how Hermione might react, how she might beat her fists against his chest and scream that she hated him, he felt the mark on his arm start to sting.
—
Draco limped into the manor as the sun was rising. Voldemort had punished him. He had punished many of them, but Draco always had it the worst because he could handle the wrath the best. He had been burnt and suffered an onslaught of Cruciartis curses, all for their loss. But it was worth it to him.
They were getting closer to the war ending.
Walking through the double doors of the manor, he expected it to be empty, hoping to sit by the fireplace and drink whiskey until the pain subsided. But of course Hermione was awake, walking out of the dining room with a mug of coffee in her hands.
"What happened?" she gasped. "Did that happen at the raid?"
"No," he replied to her, sitting on the couch, pulling off his cloak.
Hermione understood. "Well, are you alright?"
"Yes, already healing up."
She tapped her fingers against the ceramic of the mug nervously. He knew what she was about to ask, he didn't even have to read her mind.
"How many did you kill?"
"Only one."
"Who?"
"Neville Longbottom."
The mug clattered onto the ground, the hot coffee spilling on her bare feet. She didn't react, just stood there in shock as the hot liquid steamed off of her skin. Draco saw her hands shake, and she closed her eyes.
"Tell me you're lying," her voice quivered.
Draco sat in silence, looking at her fingers that were trembling. He wished she understood that he didn't want to, that he simply did it because there were no other options. It was for the best for the Order. For her. For everyone.
But grief didn't work like that. She wouldn't be able to understand his reasoning now. Perhaps over time, she could learn to forgive him, but this was just another thing that he did to hurt her right after the next.
"You're a monster," she said, her eyes glazed over.
"I know."