Unbound

chapter five.

Granger looked horrible.

He had reached back and shut the wooden door behind her after she brushed past him, sealing her fate whether she knew it or not.

She turned to look at him and Draco did not recognize the girl who stood in front of him. How she was the same strong-headed and know-it-all she was during her Hogwarts years, Draco did not know, but what he did know was that this witch was tired.

Granger simply exuded exhaustion. He watched her walk towards him, timid yet resilient and not backing down. She stood with forced posture and squared her shoulders, looking at him and taking him in.

He wondered how many Calming Draughts she had taken before she came. None of them had seemed to work.

"Malfoy. I understand you want to help the Order," Draco heard her finally say, feigning confidence and forcing her voice to remain steady.

Merlin, he hadn't heard her speak in ages.

Her voice was scratchy as if she hadn't had water all day, nothing like it had been when he knew her last. He had always known her to be so bloody confident in every word that came out of her dreadful little lips. If she had been a pureblood, she would have commanded a whole room with the way she carried herself.

She was not like that anymore.

She turned to survey the room when Draco did not answer. He watched her look at the furniture in the room - hardly anything of importance and far from extravagance.

When Draco had been preparing the shack the morning after Severus had let him know Granger agreed, he had known he needed to keep the room simple.

He doubted he would ever be eating here or staying longer than his weekly meetings with her, yet a table and chairs seemed necessary. He had not wanted to walk into one large, empty room every week, but he also knew he couldn't over-decorate - this was not a home and most definitely not a home Granger would be in with him.

That thought struck a chord.

He was alone in a house with Granger, certified Golden Girl, and only a few people knew.

He pulled himself out of that thought, realizing he should say something when she turned around and met his eyes once again.

Her eyes were so brown.

"You understand the terms?" Draco questioned cooly, asserting his position of power over the girl in front of him.

He owned her now.

"A pardon. And me, in exchange for information."

His eyes bore into her own at the perfect opening to make her understand, to make her his.

"Both now and after the war," he let out, relishing in the feeling of superiority, the feeling of anything but numb hatred that constantly boiled low in his stomach awaiting an opportunity to strike.

Draco did not know how he expected her to act. Yes, it was true that part of his reasoning for picking Granger was because he knew she wouldn't suck up to him as many other women would have. No, she would fight and argue with him and correct him when he was wrong or making vast assumptions. She'd be fun to play with. Good entertainment. And if the Order had given her the task of seducing him, leading him to help them beyond what he had planned to or something of the like, she'd have a snowball's chance in hell in that respect.

Draco was cold now, frozen, and entirely consumed by numbness. No one, not even the wizarding world's Golden Girl, could warm him. She'd have no chance at anything.