"Astoria, why are you ignoring me?" Draco asked. Astoria had a magazine covering her face as she sat on the velvet green couch. Draco sat across from her, sipping on a glass of whiskey.
"I'm not," she mumbled, hiding deeper into the pages.
He pushed his finger against the thin paper, pulling it down. He had promised years ago he wouldn't probe her thoughts, and he had kept his word. It had been forever since he had probed any of the Greengrass' thoughts. That's how Cornelius had been aiding the Order for years without Draco even having a clue, not thinking the people he had trusted the most were hiding secrets from him. "Tori, you're lying to me. Are you mad I'm leaving for a few days?"
"No, of course not," she said, looking at him finally.
"Then what is it?"
Astoria huffed, trying to pull the pages back to cover her face. "Why should I tell you anything? You never do so for me."
Anyone would be so lucky as Astoria Greengrass to be shielded from the world as she had been. The war raged on as she planned parties and banquets, afforded much more luxuries than most during this time. A high ranking husband, wealth from two distinguished families, and a predisposition for a positive demeanor made these hard times a little more tolerable for her. Draco desperately wanted to keep her the way she was, blissfully unaware.
To him, she was a beacon of happiness in darkness. The only thing that kept him from tossing himself into the sun was her. Sure, he loved Daphne as his own sister as well. But no one even came close to how Draco felt for Astoria. If she asked him to find every copy of The Tales of the Beetle and the Bard, he would start the search immediately.
She was his. His tether to humanity. His best friend. His purpose. Without her, he'd be dead. So Draco would do anything to keep her happy and protected. Shielding her from any sources of pain or discomfort, as she already was dealing with so much.
"Fine," Draco said, crossing his arms and tapping his foot on the ornate rug. His eyes diverted away from her and back to the fireplace, making Astoria huff even louder.
"You always lie to me, Draco. I can lie to you too."
"Suit yourself then," he said, taking another drink and shrugging.
Astoria set the magazine down and crossed her own arms around herself. "You don't think I can handle the truth, but I can. I'm stronger than you think."
"I've never questioned your strength, Tori. There's just some things you don't have to know about."
"Like how my best friend actively thinks that she is sleeping with my husband? You don't think that I should know that someone is stabbing me in the back while I lay sick in bed?"
Draco sighed and rested his forehead against his palm, trying to press away the headache that came with uncomfortable conversations mixed with alcohol. "She's not a good friend, I should have told you that. But I'm your friend, and Daphne and Theo are your friends. Granger is your friend too. They're all going to be better to you than she ever will be."
"But all of you knew, and you all hid it from me. Poor Pansy is in love with you, and you've just been stringing her along for years. In our sick little web of lies, you left her and I caught so deep in it that we can't get out."
Astoria's eyes started to fill with tears, and Draco shifted his gaze back to her. The tears began to fall and coated her pale face. They seemed impossibly large as they rolled down her hollow cheeks.
"You just keep breaking our hearts, Draco. Everyone's. Mine. Pansy's. Hermione's. I can't keep justifying what you're doing. You'll be left with no one if you keep lying and acting as if we need you to protect us."
"You don't need me?" Draco asked, pouting his lip at Astoria.
"I especially don't need you," she said, turning her nose up to him.
Draco let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing his arms up in the air. "My dear Astoria doesn't need me anymore, whatever will I do? Will I have to beg for her forgiveness? Perhaps I should take her to Milan where she could buy some really nice muggle clothes. Or maybe we could go to her favorite bakery in Paris and spend a day at the Louvre. I could rent the whole place for the two of us."
"It's not the time to joke, Draco. I'm being serious," she said, wiping away her tears, trying to hide her smile. Draco got on his knee before her, taking her hand in his. Her fingers felt so delicate to him, making sure to handle her carefully.
"Astoria, I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I will be more honest with you. You deserve that."
"And Pansy?"
Draco ran his thumbs across her knuckles gently. "I told her that we were done. No more stringing her along, I promise."
"She's still my friend," Astoria said, looking at Draco. "I know she didn't want to hurt me, she just loved you. I'm not going to abandon her because of this, it will just take me a minute to trust her again."
Draco placed her cold hand to his cheek. "You always see the best in others."
"How do you think I manage being married to you?" she giggled. The tips of her fingers brushed against his cheek. "What about Hermione?"
"The war is coming to a close soon, Tori. I've done too much to ever begin to apologize to her. When that happens, she'll return home and I won't hurt her anymore."
"Where is that?" Astoria asked, cupping his face in her hands.
"Wherever she wants it to be, it's her life."
She pressed her forehead to his. "Don't you want it to be with you?"
"No, I want her to be happy and I don't get a happy ending, Tori. We're losing the war, and when Potter and his friends start administering their revenge, I will receive it in full force, as I deserve."
Astoria's eyes began to fill with tears again, and Draco felt them as they dropped from her eyes onto his cheeks. "I don't want us to win the war, Draco. But I don't want to lose you. I wish Dad was here, he'd know what to do."
Draco wished he could tell her that he was doing right by her father and continuing his legacy, but he remained silent. He hoped one day she could know, but today wouldn't be that day. He had to keep lying to her, for her sake.
"You and Daph are going to be okay no matter what. I promise you."
"I know," she whispered.
—
Hermione nervously tapped her fingers against the cover of a book as she waited in the carriage. It would be a day's travel by Thestral to Romania, which felt slow compared to muggle methods of transportation, but she didn't complain. Leaving the manor, wand in her pocket, getting to see archives of books that humans were forbidden to lay their eyes on felt all too exciting for her. She had remembered tales from Lockhart and Eldred Worple about living amongst vampires, but always felt as if it was exaggerated.
The silver ring that Draco had bestowed was wrapped tightly around her finger again. It was best in this case for her own safety, rather than her entrapment. It almost felt comforting to Hermione in a twisted way, knowing that she was safe from harm if it was on, but always leading back to a different danger.
When she heard Draco's footsteps, she quickly opened the book and started to read, wanting to avoid him completely. He stepped into the carriage and sat across from her, the scent of spearmint lingering around him. The attire he was wearing seemed more formal than what Hermione was used to seeing him in, and she suddenly felt incredibly underdressed.
The collar of his shirt was buttoned up to his neck, covering his throat in silk. As always, he wore all black, making his pale features look stark white in the dim carriage. Hermione, on the other hand, wore a light blue jumper and leggings, as the weather was cooling down for the fall.
Draco knocked against the wall of the carriage twice, and it began to move slowly. Ignoring her presence, he pulled out a stack of parchment and began reading through the pages. It was silent for hours between the both of them, something Hermione was glad for, as uncomfortable as it was.
Sneaking glances at him, she saw him thinking deeply before writing on the parchment. His handwriting looked immaculate, as if it were printed by a press.
"Granger, mind looking these over for me?" he asked, handing her a small stack of paper. It was records of future prisoner transfers all approved by Draco Malfoy. Hermione read each name carefully, noting new members that had been captured. On one page, Draco had made a written request for Angelina Johnson to be transferred to the Carrow's estate from Hogwarts.
"You want Angelina with the Carrows?" Hermione asked, confusion in her furrowed brows.
"When I saw her, I noticed the bracelet with Bell's name on it. I remembered they were close. Figured they may want to be together," he shrugged.
"You saw Angelina?"
"Yes, after you did. Had to make sure her mind was wiped clean of the events that led to your capture."
Hermione sat quietly, checking over the paragraphs for any grammatical mistakes or errors in punctuation. She analyzed it carefully, looking at each deliberate stroke. When she found it was flawless, she handed it back to him.
"You've got nice handwriting," she said casually, testing engagement, just to see what would happen.
Draco smirked, "Of course. Only perfection from the sole heir of the Malfoy's."
Though she hadn't known Lucius Malfoy well, she knew he was a nasty man. Quick to anger, constantly scolding Draco in front of his peers. If he acted enraged in public, she could only imagine what happened behind closed doors.
She pictured the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy sitting in the Malfoy Library, writing over and over again until his hands became calloused. The tiny hands covered in welts and bruises until they wrote words like a machine.
There were not any portraits of any Malfoy's in the manor, or at least in areas where she had been. There was one of Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass in the dining room, but other than that, the home mainly had pictures of landscapes. If she didn't know it was the Malfoy estate, she wouldn't have a singular clue.
"Seems like a heavy weight to bear," Hermione said.
"Not heavy if I'm not carrying it," he replied, flipping the page he was reading over and signing his name on the back. "I'm sure the Malfoy name has already been ended by vampirism. That would have my father rolling in his grave. I think he'd rather our name die out than become infected any further."
"He was hard on you, wasn't he?"
Draco chuckled and shook his head, his white hair bouncing softly. "That is an understatement, Granger. But he's gone now, and the world is better off. Orphans of War, you, me and the Greengrasses. We could start a band or something, that would be a cool name."
Hermione smiled, almost laughing at the joke, "I'm not an orphan technically. But I guess I may as well be one."
With the snap of his fingers, a tray with two fire whiskeys appeared before them. "A reason to drink if there was any," he said, holding his glass up.
She looked into his eyes as their glasses touched, not breaking eye contact as she downed the brown liquid, feeling it warm her core and spread through her body. Draco snapped again, and her glass was refilled.
Hesitation hit her as she brought it to her lips. When she drank, her impulse control was low. They were facing one another, in a small carriage with nothing but time. She had to keep her wits about her.
"I won't touch you unless you want me to," he said, hearing her thoughts and seeing as she paused before taking her next drink.
"Malfoy, please stop listening in."
"I'm sorry, you're just so interesting I can't help it sometimes. I will stop."
Embarrassment crept over as she nearly blushed. She drank the second helping, hoping that the redness in her face would be explained away by the alcohol.
"What's the plan when we get there?" she asked, trying to change the subject, but also becoming nervous thinking about how much closer they were getting to Romania.
"The plan is, you stick to my side, never leave my sight, and do exactly as I say so you don't end up someone's meal."
"And my thoughts?"
"Occlude them anytime someone is near. I've told our lovely hosts that you're my concubine and that I'm here on business for the Dark Lord."
Hermione gawked at him in disbelief, crossing her arms. She saw the sly smile that was creeping on his face. "It's a vampire society, human concubines are common and no one pays them any mind, they're just accessories. We do our little jig at night, and during the day we will hunt for your little books."
Hermione scoffed, her jaw still opened. "You couldn't tell them that I was just a normal prisoner of Voldemort?"
"No, you have to be my property if they're going to keep from draining you of blood. I don't know if you're aware, Granger, but you're quite delicious and very edible looking."
The gaze of his silver eyes left hers and started to trail her body. In her stomach, the stirring feeling was growing, and she tried to push it away. His hunger scared her, but also gave her a sense of excitement.
"You're a pervert, Malfoy," she said, holding the third glass of fire whiskey now.
"Another few of those, and you'll be just as bad as me," he taunted her, pointing at the drink in her hand. "Come on, I've seen you looking at me the entire time. You haven't even finished a page in your book. Admit it, Granger. You want to eat me just as much as I want to eat you."
"Oh fuck off," she exclaimed, downing her drink. She was fuming, and his cocky expression turned towards her and away from the parchment.
"Merlin, I love it when you look all bothered. You look so fuckable when you're angry," he licked his lips and took a sharp breath in. "The things I would do to grab a fistful of that wild hair and sink myself deep into you. I think I'd let Voldemort torture me for weeks just for a second in there."
"You're so desperate, it's pathetic," Hermione grumbled, trying to quell her monster.
Draco laughed, "I am quite desperate for you, Granger. I can practically feel the heat radiating from your cunt. I'd give every penny I have in Gringotts just to dip my tongue in between your legs."
Hermione was collapsing at his words. He knew how to pry her open, showering her with his attention, making her feel desired, something she craved. She wanted to feel something, but most of all, she wanted to be something. Something to someone else.
"This is just pitiful, how much you beg for me," she whispered, giving her own monster just a crumb.
"I would worship at your feet on my hands and knees, because I know that's what you want. To feel control, to be idolized, to feel your value. You are priceless, and I would make you feel every penny of it."
Draco fell to his knees on the carriage floor, though he was on the ground, he was still face to face with her. His hands rested against the bench around her, close enough to where she could feel the ice-like temperatures against her legs, but he stayed distant.
His silver eyes lingered on her lips for a moment before he looked into her eyes. The smell of spearmint and fire whiskey was emitting from his parted lips. "Granger, do you want to feel what your worth is to me?"
No. That's what she wanted to say to him. Or, at least what she knew she should have said. Denying him and seeing his reaction would have given her satisfaction, but she knew it would be nothing compared to what he could give her if she said yes.
You are mine.
It replayed over and over in her head, swirling around, clouding her logical thoughts. Mine. That was something. Something to someone.
She felt herself leaning into him, bringing her face closer to his, his cold breaths sending a chill down her spine. Their lips were a fraction apart, and she wished for him to close the distance. Nothing would have mattered other than to feel his cold lips press to hers, to feed her curiosity of what they felt and tasted like. Her eyes closed, waiting.
As she felt him move closer, almost to the point where she wanted him most, the wheels of the carriage met the ground abruptly. Hermione's eyes jolted open to find Draco smugly smiling at her as he pulled away. It sobered her quickly, reminding her that as much as she wanted him, he was her enemy, and she was playing right into his hand.
"Looks like we've arrived a bit earlier than anticipated. Can you remember what I told you?"
Hermione rested her head back, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, I remember quite well actually. I am to not leave your sight."
Draco stepped out of the carriage, holding his hand out towards her. "Let's go then. And please, Granger, try not to get yourself killed."