"… and then I blew up the entrance of the cave and we got away safely, thanks to yours truly of course." Theodore bowed, finishing the story of their eventful time in China. Astoria clapped, giving him a thunderous applause in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor. "Thank you, thank you."

Daphne laughed and shook her head, "I don't believe half of that was true."

"I can assure you Daphne, what he said was one hundred percent accurate, even the part where he got all three dragons to back away from him in fear," Hermione said as she sat in Draco's lap on his armchair, her legs draped over the armrest.

Draco held up a glass of fire whiskey, "Nearly killed one with his bare hands too. Couldn't have done it without you, Teddy."

"I know," he beamed, his bright smile making Hermione smile along with him.

"You're so brave, Teddy," Astoria giggled, hugging Daphne's arm. "Daph's just so lucky."

"Lucky indeed," Daphne agreed, giving a wink to Theodore as he sat down across from her.

Draco took a drink before handing Hermione the glass. After taking a sizable gulp, she felt a warmth creep over her, and held the glass to Draco's lips. His eyes held her gaze as he finished the rest.

"You two are drunks," Daphne snorted, chugging her glass of wine. Of all of them, she was likely the most inebriated, as she was relieved that Theodore was home safely and didn't have to bear the weight of being Astoria's sole caretaker at this time.

"Oh hush," Astoria said quietly. "They're only nice to each other when they drink. Don't spoil it."

Draco and Hermione laughed, and she felt his arms wrap tighter around her. She listened to it carefully, analyzing it, trying to assess how genuine it was. Being surrounded by people who seemingly adored him had to have yielded some positive memories, so why could he not produce a Patronus?

"Granger is plenty nice to me. Fixed me up real nice after that nasty dragon nearly took my head off."

"You would have been a good healer, Hermione," Astoria smiled. "You've got such gentle hands."

Draco nearly spit out his drink, "Gentle? Nothing about Granger is gentle. The number of times she's stabbed me would concern you, Tori.

"Probably because you deserved it. Hermione has never once stabbed me," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him.

They all burst out into a fit of laughter so hard that tears began to fall from Hermione's eyes. It felt happy and safe for a moment, until Astoria began to cough. Draco lifted Hermione up as he stood, setting her back down in the armchair. He gave her a kiss on the cheek before turning to Astoria.

"Time for bed," he said to her.

Astoria tried to hold back her coughing. "I'm fine, Draco," she said, wheezing.

But she wasn't fine. It was clear by the look on all three of their faces that Astoria had never been this sick before. When she began coughing, they all had frozen, watching as she tried to catch her breath. Without much more argument, Draco lifted her off the couch, pulling her away from Daphne, and brought her up the stairs. It was awkwardly quiet after they left. Hermione just heard the clinking of their drink glasses against the table. After finishing her glass, Daphne resorted to grabbing the bottle itself to drink from.

"He's always going to pick her first, I hope you know that," Daphne said as she looked at the fireplace. There was an anger in her eyes she couldn't quite place, but she knew Daphne was hurting. Usually, she found that if someone was experiencing pain, they often wanted others to feel it with them.

Draco putting Astoria first was something she was well aware of. It didn't bother her in the slightest. Astoria was his sister, the person he cared most for. Hermione was nothing to him. She couldn't be anything to him. Though it felt nice to be wrapped in his arms and to feel his care for her, she knew it wasn't fated to last. After the war and figuring out a cure for vampirism, whichever came first, she would return back to her life. And Draco?

He was going to be gone.

Gone, because he wanted to be.

Gone, because she wanted him to be.

Or at least that's what she continued to tell herself.

"I'm going to pick her first too, Daphne," Hermione replied truthfully. She would, because that was Draco's goal: Cure Astoria, and if that would fix him, it would be a bonus.

Theodore sat up, "Woah there, no one is going to have to pick anyone over anyone else. Everything's gonna be okay, Daph."

"I'm just saving her from the heartbreak now."

"Don't be so cruel," he begged.

Daphne scoffed, hiccuping in her drunken state. "It's not cruel, Teddy. I'm honest and realistic with her, which I'm sure Hermione can appreciate."

Hermione did agree with that notion. Though Daphne was difficult to get along with at times due to her bluntness, she had never felt that she was dishonest with her. And Hermione would always prefer cold truth than a warm lie.

"Don't worry, Teddy. I understand her," Hermione assured him.

They went to bed, and Hermione found herself alone in the sitting room. Pouring herself more whiskey from a nearly empty bottle. It helped with the soreness she felt from their dragon encounter, though her back and head still ached. She dozed off sitting in the armchair, not realizing until she felt Draco's cold hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently.

"You're so tense, Granger," he whispered, applying a slight pressure to her shoulder blades as he stood behind the chair. The feeling of her muscles releasing under his cold fingers made her whimper softly. Frigid lips kissed her temple and kissed down to her cheek. "Are you in pain?"

"It's not so bad, you're helping a lot," she mumbled drunkenly.

"Why don't we get you in bed, and then I can help even more," he said even quieter than before. Hermione got to her feet, dizzy from the alcohol, but led him up the stairs to her warm bedroom. She laid down on her stomach, and Draco's cool hands pressed into her back over her shirt, relaxing her muscles.

Though it felt good, Hermione purposefully made her moans breathier and louder than she would have normally in an attempt to stir him.

"If you keep making noises like that you'll be in more pain than when I started," he said jokingly.

Hermione didn't want him to be joking. She wanted him to act out his sick fantasies on her. The ways she wanted him, she thought, were too much to ask of him. The way it felt when he was drinking her blood was euphoric, and she felt she nearly orgasmsed by just that sensation.

But she was too ashamed to admit that. And worst yet, she knew it caused him discomfort having to restrict himself so much. It was cruel to dangle a steak in front of a starved dog.

At one point, she feared that he would drain her, but now, it's all she could think about. He consumed her in every way imaginable. Her body, her mind, her soul. They all felt tainted by him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked him.

"If you wish," he said, moving her over and laying next to her in the bed. It felt peaceful, his eyes closed, and slowed heartbeat were comforting. She laid facing him, admiring his sharp features, tracing the bridge of his nose with her fingertip.

Hermione kissed his eyelids softly, feeling tired now that the pain was mostly gone.

"Draco?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"You can't summon a Patronus, can you?"

He was silent and his eyes were still shut, as if he almost didn't hear and fell asleep. But he sighed after a few moments, placing his cold hand against her cheek.

"No, I can't. I have never been able to. Lupin even had me for extra lessons to try to summon one, but it never worked."

"Have you tried since then?" she asked.

His brow furrowed as he searched for the answer to her question. "A few times Tori and Daph tried to help me, but I think I'm hopeless in that department."

"We can try again. I can help you. Especially if we have to get a lethifold for the counter curse. I've helped several people and they've…"

"It's not going to work, baby," he said softly, kissing her forehead to quiet her. "I've tried to pull every memory I could think of. They've all been blighted by one thing or another. Trust me, it's not worth the trouble."

"Please," her voice cracked as she begged him. Tears started to fall from as her heart broke for him.

"Shh…" he whispered, pulling her close, kissing the tears away from her cheeks. "I'll try with you, Granger. If that eases your mind."

"There has to be something. You deserve to have at least one happy memory." She tried to quiet her sobs, but she couldn't stop herself. It felt embarrassing that she was crying because Draco fucking Malfoy couldn't summon a full corporeal Patronus. He, after all, didn't deserve to be happy after all the pain he had caused, right?

"Don't cry, Granger. Not for me. Remember what I've done. Happy memories don't need to exist for monsters like me."

"It's hard to remember when you look like a man," she murmured. "Or when you look like a boy that I once went to school with and felt pity for. And when I see how you are with the people you care about. It's even harder to remember when I see the way you look at me."

"We've been playing a very dangerous game, haven't we, Granger?"

"A game neither of us can win at this point."

Draco tilted her chin up, and through her tears she saw his silver eyes studying her face. Slowly, he leaned in and kissed the corner of her lips. "Maybe there's not meant to be winners and losers. Perhaps we are simply meant to enjoy playing it."

—

Draco held her as she softly cried to sleep. Rarely did he ever see her in a state like this, he couldn't think of a time in over half a year that she had cried out of sadness in front of him. It pained him to see her in distress, especially over something he thought was meaningless. She shouldn't have been sad over him, he wasn't worth the tears.

But a sick part of him couldn't help but feel a small sense of joy knowing how attached she had become in such a short time. Hermione was his. She said it herself. Giving him her body and blood. It made sense though, how much she latched onto him.

She was alone. The people in her life treated her as if she was merely a pawn in the war. Her self esteem had been decimated. There wasn't a place of comfort for her anywhere.

All of that made Draco sick to think about, how someone so perfect could be treated so horrifically. To him, Hermione deserved the fucking world. She was given beautiful clothing to wear because she looked like a god to him. She was owed a safe place to sleep at night, for all that she has done. And she shouldn't have to be alone, because she had so much to give.

Above all of that, she deserved better than him.

But she was his, and they would have to pry her from his dead hands before they took her back before he was done with her.

They were on borrowed time. The war was coming to a climax, Hermione had figured out ways to cure Astoria of vampirism, and he would soon no longer be of this earth.

It was deserved, for everything he had done.

Draco buried his nose into her soft curls on top of her head, breathing in the warm scents of vanilla and whiskey, feeling her heartbeat against him. He had it memorized, every beat. When it was resting, when she was scared, when she felt happiness or had drank one too many cups of coffee, he knew. He studied it. He constantly had to restrain himself from breaking her chest open to consume it.

"What were your dreams?"

It felt like just yesterday when she had asked him that question. Recently, he found himself dreaming of only her. A life with her where things were different. Where he was human and she didn't shiver at his touch. Where they might have been able to grow old together and sit on the porch of the white house with their wrinkled fingers intertwined.

A life where his mother could meet her.

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

And he was. He'd be with her until his very end. When he laid next to her as she slept, he whispered his dreams into her ear, hoping they would spill from his lips into her mind so she could have them too. He thought it would help take her nightmares away and give her something of him to hold onto.

He woke alongside her, feeling her stir in his arms. Looking down, he saw the puffiness of her eyes and the dried tears on her cheeks. Even then, she still looked like what he'd imagine an angel to be.

Softly, he kissed her eyelids and she had done for him, and saw her smile, like the warmth of the sun was radiating from just her lips.

"Merlin, I must look a mess," she said, trying to turn away.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he replied. "Look at me."

She turned back to him, and he took in her brown eyes, looking over her face again and again. "Baby, slut, whore, darling. Everything but my name," she laughed.

Draco chuckled under his breath, "I thought you liked those ones, they're quite endearing."

"Anything but mudblood is fine with me," she said, sitting up in bed. Her hand went to the back of her neck, and she rubbed it, trying to release tension.

"I'll call Tappy to bring you some potions," Draco said, climbing out of the bed.

"I'm fine," she said, stretching. Draco watched as her arms raised up, seeing her figure move from side to side, holding back the urge to ravage her first thing in the morning, especially with how sore she looked. "Just need to walk it off."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. I'll be out for most of the day. After work I'm taking Tori to a business dinner. But I'll see you tonight, okay?"

Hermione smiled. "Don't rush home just for me. Make sure Astoria has fun tonight."

Draco spent hours planning for the arrival of two hundred vampires. They'd have to clear out rooms to board them, and the only place that could hold that many bodies at the current time was Hogwarts. He'd have to remove the prisoners held there, as they'd be at risk for becoming meals. Of the two hundred vampires being sent to England, none were wizards or witches, which was a relief. It would be difficult for the Order to counter, but not impossible.

He was lucky he kept his magic after he was turned, as there was a high chance that when someone comes back with the curse that they'd lose their arcane abilities. Victor and himself were considered lucky, but that is the main reason why wizards were so fearful of the transformation.

A banging knock came at the door of his office, and he ignored it, knowing exactly who was behind. The pounding continued, and he heard Pany's muffled voice from the other side.

"You can't avoid me forever, Draco," she yelled.

In a few strides, he made it towards the door and opened it. Pansy stormed past him in her dark robes. Her arms were crossed, and she leaned back on his desk.

"Groveling isn't a good look on you, Parkinson. Don't you have Goyle or someone else to intrude on?" Draco asked.

"Draco, I want you. I've loved you forever. Since we were kids, babe."

She walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Her lips began to kiss his, but he stood still, not reciprocating.

"Please babe, I miss you," she kissed him again, her red lipstick smudging his face.

"Leave, Parkinson," he said, her lips still pressing against his.

Pansy began to sob, her mascara dripping down her face. Quickly, she flew into a rage, shoving the papers off his desk, taking a bottle of ink and throwing it at the wall.

"Just because you have your little brainwashed sex toy you think you can forget me?" Her hand reached for the quill on his desk, and she stabbed it into her arm and dragged down, creating a large gouge. "You think that Astoria's love and the mudblood's cunt will be enough to replace me? After everything I've done for you?"

Draco made a great effort to stop himself from lunging at her. Every sense in his body was begging him to have just a taste of her blood. It was pouring from her arm, dripping onto the floor beneath her feet. But instead of their attention being on her bleeding arm, they turned it to the mark of the snake and skull, burning intensely, making them both freeze for a moment.

With a wave of his wand, her wound stopped bleeding and was wrapped in a bandage, the ink disappeared from the wall, and he turned away from her. In an instant, they were both at the feet of the weakened Voldemort.

"The Carrows' estate is under siege. Go, now," he demanded them.

Immediately, he knew who was behind this. Who else would it be other than George Weasley? He and Pansy placed their masks on and arrived at the Carrows as fast as a spell could take them. Upon their arrival, Draco found half their home up in flames. Several other Death Eaters appeared near them and made their way into the crumbling building. Pansy was at his side as they walked through the smoking halls, searching for the culprits who had infiltrated the well guarded estate.

"Where do you think you're going?" Pansy barked, casting a stunning spell at a man who was attempting to make an escape. Draco knew him well, as he was a key commentator in every quidditch match he'd ever play in.

Lee Jordan laid paralyzed in the rubble of what remained of the dining room. Draco pointed his wand at him, restraining him further in a chair. Once Pansy dropped her stunning spell, she quickly casted a Crucio at him, causing the wildly familiar voice to scream out.

Amycus Carrow rushed towards them in a panic. "They've taken the wards. Bell and Johnson are gone. We need them back, they know too much."

And even through his screams of pain, Lee began to laugh, hearing that the mission was successful.

"Where have they taken them?" Pansy demanded as the Crucio wore off. She became frustrated when he didn't answer, and cursed him several more times. "Draco, take over. This prick won't speak."

Draco walked towards Lee, whose heartbeat began to race when he realized who he was in the presence of. There was a point in time where the feeling of fear gave him a sense of pleasure. Now, he couldn't give a fuck about it.

"You'd better answer, Jordan. Or I'll make it a hell of a lot harder for you to speak ever again," he said, his fingers pressing into his throat as a warning.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," he spit. "Kill me, I'm not saying shit."

Draco pressed his wand into his temple, casting Legilimency. Flashes of several memories of Draco in their youth flashed before him. As he tried to wedge his way into his recent memories, all he could find was images of the bodies Lee had to bury that had been slaughtered by him. Lee screamed as Draco dug around in his mind.

"Don't make me ask you again," Draco demanded, hoping Lee wouldn't reveal anything to anyone else currently standing in the room surrounding them.

Pansy scoffed, "This is taking too long. Have you lost your spark, Draco? You used to be able to get people to talk in seconds."

"Shut the fuck up," he growled at her.

"Lord Malfoy, we need to ensure we get them quickly, please, I implore you," Alecto Carrow insisted.

It was becoming too much for Draco to handle, having to keep his ruse while also thinking of the implications of his actions and how that may affect Hermione. But he couldn't consider her feelings now. He had to think about the longevity of his plan and keeping them safe. So he did what he had to do and what he was good at.

Draco's fingers plucked out the left eye of Lee Jordan, sending the man into a panicked scream. As if it were a toy, Draco threw it across the room, hearing it splat against the wall. His hand went to Lee's warm throat that was letting out horrific noises, squeezing down to quiet him.

"I'll take your other eye next," he said coldly as he released his grip from his throat.

Lee started to shake, "Paris. They've taken them to Paris."

Draco entered his mind once more, leading him right to a safehouse outside the bustling city. It seemed as if it was one that George had fashioned for the little off branch of Order members that were following his command. He could attempt to conceal this information, but that would simply cause more issues. Giving up the Weasleys that were causing trouble would just be a small hiccup in his grand scheme. He had pledged loyalty to Kingsley and Potter, not a rebel group.

Without a second thought, Draco ripped Lee from the confines of the chair and sank his fangs into him, draining every drop of blood from his body. He would be dead by the end of the day anyways.

"Finally, his screams were getting annoying," Pansy remarked.

—

"Everything okay, Draco?" Astoria asked, sitting in the carriage across from him as they made their way to Antonin Dolohov's home. It was a dinner he held ever so often with other high-ranking Death Eaters to build camaraderie or whatever the fuck. Draco only went to keep up appearances and put on a little act to stay in the good graces of those around him.

"Yes, Tori. Just a long day at work," he replied. "Are you going to be okay at dinner tonight?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, fiddling her fingers.

"Cause she's going to be there," he said.

Astoria cleared her throat, still sore from coughing from the night before, but looking healthier than she had been. "I'll be fine, you know me. I'm here for the good food and conversation. And, to make sure you don't rip anyone's head off."

He couldn't help but smile at her, no matter how shitty his day was. "You look very nice tonight, Tori."

"Of course, Draco. I look nice every night."

The dinner table was completely full, and despite the Carrows losing their home and wards, were even in attendance. Draco sat next to Dolohov, making light conversation, drinking the fine booze that was served, keeping an eye on Astoria, and ignoring the glares coming from Pansy.

"I'm glad the number of muggles has been reduced so low in England. They should have been slaughtered instead of allowed to leave the country though. Filth," Dolohov sneered. Goyle, who wore Pansy like an accessory now, laughed in agreement. The two were a fitting pair, Draco thought, willing to kiss anyone's ass to gain favor. "I think we could easily take muggle armies once we rid ourselves of the Order."

Draco silently rolled his eyes, counting the seconds until dessert was served so they could leave.

"At least we have full reign to kill muggle-born wizards," Goyle said as he turned to Draco. "Too bad we can't get rid of Potter's precious mudblood just yet."

"The raid today just solidifies how worthless she is. The Order even went to save the purebloods first," Pansy scoffed drunkenly. "We should just rid ourselves of her before she causes even more issues."

Astoria butted in, "She's been a great help around the house. Very bright and lovely company."

"Am I not lovely company anymore, Tori?" Pansy asked her.

"If she's so revered by the Order even though she's a mudblood, she should duel one of our wards. See if she really is the brightest witch of her age," Dolohov said with a smirk.

Draco turned his attention away from Pansy to Dolohov. "I don't think that would be necessary."

"I would have to insist. I think it would be a great showing of the strength of pureblood wizards compared to mudbloods. It would surely boost morale, I'll even host here and invite the Dark Lord himself."

Draco and Astoria arrived at Malfoy manor in the late hours of the night. Twinkle had been waiting by the door for them anxiously. The small house elf held her hand up the stairs, bringing her to bed. As much as Draco wanted to see Hermione, he didn't want to face her after the day he just had. But the only thing that would calm him was feeling her warm skin and beating heart.

He sheepishly climbed up the stairs, making his way down the east wing of the manor towards her door. For several minutes, he stood outside of it, contemplating whether or not to knock. Distantly, he could hear her muffled heart through the door, and she seemed at peace, but wasn't sleeping, likely laying in bed with a book.

His desire to have her outweighed all of the doubts. He had made a promise to her to be honest, and he could only hope that she would offer him grace despite what he had done and will continue to do. Her heartbeat hastened in excitement when he knocked on the door, and she rushed to it, pausing for a moment before she opened it fully.

The smile she had on her face quickly faded when she laid eyes on him. He couldn't hide his shame, wearing it like an ugly sweater.

"What's wrong, Draco?"

"I did something bad," he whispered.