For Her (DracoxHermione)

For Her

Written for the Tag(line) You're It! Competition.

My prompt: "You're the perfect hunting machine: fearless, relentless. You've been searching for one thing your whole life...and she's down there." (Jupiter Ascending)

This fic was the Best Horror winner and Overall Favorite runner up!

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"You didn't have to kill him."

Draco took a long swig of his drink, closing his eyes only briefly from the burn of the whiskey in this throat. It was a celebratory drink, a job well done, another successful day.

She stormed around the hotel room, throwing clothes into her magically extended bag and red in the face. This had been a point of tension since the beginning of their working relationship some odd years ago.

He, a former Death Eater, with a bank of knowledge of his former companions and an unflinching ability to kill at whim.

She, the personification of justice.

"He was charging at you," he replied simply, holding the glass just millimeters from his lips. "Would you rather I let him kill you?"

Hermione slammed her bag closed, her eyes slits as she faced him. "He had no wand, Malfoy—"

"He had two hands and a clear path to your neck. You're welcome, by the way."

Hermione grumbled, her teeth grinding against each other so hard Draco could hear it from across the room. He rolled his eyes.

After the war had ended, the general public had assumed that Draco, like his father, would earn himself a rightful life sentence in Azkaban for his crimes. Even Draco had accepted his fate. He didn't cry, he didn't yell, he didn't even protest his imprisonment. It was the cost of his actions.

But then, an offer was laid out for him. Help the Ministry round up and dispose of the last of the Death Eaters in exchange for freedom. For a second chance.

They knew. They knew when they released him who he was, how he'd work. He was the perfect hunting machine; fearless. Relentless.

She was his opposite in every way. The angel on the other shoulder of fate and the absolute pain in his ass.

She held him back, just as they knew she would when they assigned them together as partners. She, who believed in the value of every life; even the scum that they hunted on a daily basis. She, who disapproved of his rather effective method of disposal.

Draco narrowed his eyes over the glass, watching her nose crinkle and her lips thin in simmered anger.

They would be good together, if she was different. If she was less forgiving. She had quick reflexes, a sharp tongue, a brilliant mind. All the makings of the perfect assassin.

"You know," she began again, not through with this fight. "There are more ways to disarm than... than that."

Draco took another sip. "I suppose it's a good thing I wasn't trying to disarm him, then."

She was beautiful when she was angry. Wild hair and flushed cheeks and eyes that burned as if they would set the world ablaze. His lips twitched slightly, hidden behind the glass of amber liquid. Not that he'd ever tell her that. Not that she'd ever care.

"You should try it sometime." His lips lifted in one corner and he quickly took a sip to smother it.

The bottom of one of her eyes twitched. "I should try... I should try murder?"