Hermione froze. Her brain was still suffering from the after-effects of her orgasm, so she was unsure whether she understood Malfoy's words correctly. Was he really implying that he would turn his back on Voldemort? For her?

It may seem absurd to you, but there is a possibility that someone may present themselves to you as an ally who is not. Snape's words echoed in her head and suddenly she wondered if he had been alluding to Lucius Malfoy all along. Did he know about their strange relationship? Had he wanted to warn her about this man? She shivered.

"That wasn't the reaction I was expecting." Malfoy snapped her out of her thoughts. "Why do you look like I'm holding you at wand-point?"

This wasn't a conversation to have after sex, by Merlin, they shouldn't even be in a bed together if they were actually serious. She pulled the blanket over her bare chest, took a deep breath, and replied, "You... You've indicated that you want to stay at my side. Does that mean on my side?"

Her whole body trembled as she watched every movement on his face. She knew that she couldn't just trust him like that, not on this level, despite everything that had happened in the last few weeks. It was necessary for her not only to hear his words, but also to look past them, to recognise what he was really thinking and feeling. She could not allow herself to be lied to under any circumstances. Right now was the time when she had to summon up all her knowledge of human nature and put on her best expressionless face, but here, in his bed, which still smelled of sex, in his presence, it was almost impossible for her to think rationally.

"Yes."

The answer was short, but the look Malfoy gave her was so intense that, against her better judgement, she had to lower her head and look away. She wanted to believe him, she was only too aware of that. Everything would be easier if he actually wanted to switch to her side. But why now? Her secret alliance with Snape was only a few days old; Malfoy had never hinted at anything in that direction all those weeks before. Did he suspect that Snape was planning something? Was he trying to find out through her whether Voldemort's right-hand man would turn on him?

"Hermione," he finally continued urgently, "do you really think I can wholeheartedly follow a man who threatens my son's life just to punish me?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. But fear makes you compliant. And I'm very sure that pretty much every Death Eater fears him enough not to leave his side."

Now Malfoy stood up from the bed. The last after-effects of their sexual activity disappeared and Hermione was finally able to concentrate fully on the conversation. She wished she could have spent another moment cuddled up in the arms of this strong man, indulging in her fantasy world, but there was no room for that. Perhaps it was for the best. Hermione silently followed her master's example and left the bed, gathering up her clothes so that she would no longer have to have this conversation naked. When she turned round again, she saw that he had also put on his trousers in the meantime. His gaze was cold, but Hermione was sure it wasn't anger that gave him that icy expression.

"Fear has controlled my life for far too long," he said in a tone that sounded almost resigned, "The man who rules the English wizarding world today is not the man my family joined so many years ago. Yes, there has always been something fearsomely ruthless about him. But he always seemed calculating, in his right mind. Predictable. We knew what he wanted and we shared that goal. But now. Look at me, Hermione!"

At the last words, he had stepped up to her, grabbed her shoulders, and forced her to lift her head.

"I've grown old in the last three years. I feel old. All these wrinkles, the grey hair. You can't tell a Malfoy's age!" he said heatedly and Hermione could feel him getting more impatient and desperate by the second. "I'm over forty and it shows. He's been headquartered here for a bloody long year! A year in which I was no more than a servant in my own house. A year in which I could never be sure that he wouldn't just kill me. Or Draco. Yes, I hated my life after he was defeated the first time. I had to pretend and crawl on the ground in front of people who didn't deserve respect. But I was someone. The Malfoy name counted for something."

He let go of her and began pacing back and forth in front of the bed like a caged tiger. "Do you know what my first thought was when the mark burned again? That godforsaken day over three years ago when he came out of the grave and called us to him? I felt fear. Real, genuine fear. All I could think about was that I had betrayed the man my family had sworn allegiance to. He was gracious enough to overlook it, which lulled me into a sense of security. I thought everything would be like before. But ... you know what happened. You were there!"

"The incident in the Department of Mysteries," Hermione whispered.

He nodded vigorously. Then he ran his fingers through his loose hair and finally slumped down on the bed, breathing heavily. Hermione stood in front of him, undecided. Was he a gifted actor who was pulling out all the stops to make her feel sorry for him, or was he really serious? The parallel to Draco's story was striking, and that was exactly what made her suspicious. How likely was it that father and son thought and felt exactly the same, how realistic was it that the old Malfoy also loathed the world of Voldemort? She shook her head.

"You don't believe me," he said, looking up at her. His hand reached for hers and pulled her towards him until she stopped right in front of him. His other hand rested on her thigh and slowly stroked up and down. "You can sleep with me, fuck my brains out, but you don't trust me."

She blushed at his choice of words, but remained stubborn. "What do you expect? I believe you that you are well-disposed towards me. I've already said several times that it feels good to be in your arms ... to be able to forget. And I know that you feel the same. But to assume that you would put your life on the line and change sides out of affection for me would not only be conceited, but dangerous. For me."

"Why are you afraid?" he asked quietly, without stopping to stroke her leg. "What danger is there? You're mine, one way or another. Nothing will change, except that you won't need the boundaries anymore. We would no longer be enemies."

Impatiently, she snatched her hand from him and stepped out of reach of his arms. "Everything changes. What if one day I develop a plan to overthrow the Dark Lord? I tell you about it and suddenly it turns out that it was all a lie. You thwart my plans and ... and I'd probably be dead."

His eyes darkened. In one fluid motion, he rose, grabbed her wrists and brought them together behind her back, all the while holding Hermione close to him. "You already have a plan."

It wasn't a question. All her concerns about why she wouldn't trust him were confirmed all at once. Of course, he had wanted to lure her into a trap. He had presented himself as human and needy, had given her pleasure and oblivion in order to make her submissive - and now he had something like a confession from her. She was gripped by trembling again, but this time it was justified panic.

"Mr Malfoy," she began, but her voice faltered. His eyes burned into hers as he looked at her piercingly.

"That's the reason!" he snapped at her, "Sometime in the last few days, you got an idea to put an end to the whole thing. Of course, I suddenly became uncomfortable. I, the enemy. That's why you suddenly started talking about boundaries, even though that was never a problem before. You saw a way out of your slavery and suddenly I was uninteresting. That's how it is, isn't it?"

Snape's face appeared in Hermione's mind's eye. Snape, praising her for being vigilant and understanding that anyone around her could be an enemy. Snape, admonishing her with harsh words to control her emotions better so that you couldn't read everything from her face. Snape, who warned her of the dangers of Legilimency.

Horrified, she tried to tear herself away. Physical contact made it easier to penetrate someone else's mind. Panicked, she noticed how the grip on her wrists only tightened, how Malfoy pushed her against a wall with sheer physical superiority and held her there. Her eyes searched desperately for his wand - surely he wouldn't be able to penetrate her mind without his wand, right?

"You're accusing me of foul play!" Malfoy drew her attention again, "But really, you're the one who's lying. I really thought you needed me. You managed to make me go insane when I can't be around you, but I mean nothing to you. From the beginning, you were ready to throw me away as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Do I really mean so little to you?"

Without waiting for her answer, he pressed his lips to hers. Reluctantly, she turned her head to the side – what was wrong with this man? Why was he so short-tempered? Did he only know extremes? Did he only know how to help himself with violence when things didn't go his way?

"Stop!" she groaned as she tried with all her might to wriggle away from him. They had to finish this conversation without him losing himself in his arousal again. "Mr Malfoy! Stop! This ... this is going nowhere. If you really want me to believe what you're saying, then ... stop!"

"Tell me you need me!" he groaned. His hips grinded against her, and Hermione realised in amazement that he was obviously aroused despite his anger. He moaned again. "Say it! You need me! Admit it! Without me, you would have gone mad long ago. You can't just ignore me."

"Yes," she breathed, feeling exhausted. "Yes, damn it. You give me a sense of security and the feeling that I don't have to be alone. You know all that. Let go of me."

To her relief, he let go of her. A desperate expression came over his face. "Can't you see what you've done to me, Hermione? This isn't me. I'm not like that. You were right about everything. I'm scared," he whispered as he ran his hands over his face again and again. "I'm scared that the Dark Lord will hurt my family after all. I'm afraid that the other Death Eaters will look down on me. Me, a Malfoy. And I'm afraid of losing you. Why can't you believe that I'm just a man who needs a woman by his side to support him? A man who doesn't want to live in a world where he has to be constantly afraid!"

Hermione looked at him wordlessly. She doubted that he was playing a role. Of all the roles a Malfoy would choose to betray someone, this was the last one he would resort to. He was too proud for that. She believed him that he was desperate. Should she also believe him that he seriously wanted to change sides?

"I would give anything to believe you, trust me!" Hermione finally said. "It would make everything so much easier. But can't you understand me? Ever since I first saw you, you've caused me and my friends problems. Life-threatening problems. You gave Ginny the diary, which not only brought her to the brink of death, but me as well. You did everything you could to have Buckbeak killed and Hagrid sent to Azkaban. You were there at the World Cup when the Death Eaters showed their faces for the first time in years. And you answered your lord's call immediately. You lured Harry and me and everyone else into a trap that we would never have got out of alive. I could go on like this forever. The fact is, all your deeds so far make you not just one of many Death Eaters, but an active, leading man. You are not a victim who was forced to play along. You are a perpetrator."