From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 33

Author's Note: For those that need one, the suggest break is at the end of this chapter. The next suggested pause for reading is at chapter 42.

Draco fingered the Galleon, flipping it over his knuckles, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to tell Granger. He was procrastinating because of how their previous meeting had deteriorated into a fight. He had been cruel, bringing up her parents like that. But she didn't understand the tight rope he walked. How he had to consider and reconsider every word, every action that he did for fear it would bite him or his parents in the arse later. How could he tell her about the way he and his father plotted the demise of the Order finances without being tortured or killed for it?

And what's more, he didn't know why Severus had just used him to warn the Order. His godfather had figured out Draco was spying for them, was communicating with them, and had very clearly instructed him on what to say. He trusted Snape, even more so now that he wasn't turning him in. So he had to follow through. But he didn't understand what Severus' endgame was.

He killed Dumbledore. That was a huge blow to the Order, paving the way for the Dark Lord's takeover of Wizarding Britain.

What was going on?

Regardless of what his motivations may or may not be, Draco had to talk with Granger now. He had to warn her; their previous fight was inconsequential. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he thumbed the Galleon.

I want you riding my cock.

Draco lay in her bed and waited for her to answer, placing the Galleon on his chest. Frozen rain pattered on the windowpane and he listened, staring at her ceiling with his fingers laced behind his head. He wondered if she was still angry with him. She probably was.

The room still smelled faintly of smoke from when he burned the plans to the Carrow Manor, and he vanished it with a wave of his wand.

Better.

Draco couldn't get rid of Alecto, and he didn't know how to stand up to her without consequence. He remembered the feel of Alecto's hand on his thigh, inching higher. Recalling that time he was home sixth year... he squeezed his eyes shut in revulsion at the memory.

The Order wouldn't be able to take her out. She would still be around, lurking.

Draco was distraught. For the briefest of moments, it seemed he was gaining some control over his life and working his way towards freedom for him and his parents. But it was all an illusion. He'd be caught. Of course he'd be caught, he was stupid to think otherwise. As Severus pointed out, it was only a matter of time and he was so fucking lucky that it was his professor who caught him.

There was no way out. He didn't know what to do.

The Galleon warmed.

Now?

Yes.

What if I don't want you?

The moments ticked by, the only sound from the frozen rain outside.

Just when he thought Granger was petty enough to allow their fight to get in the way of events bigger than the two of them, she appeared with a crack. Of course she wouldn't. It was ridiculous to think so little of her. He knew her well enough by now.

He shifted to lay on his side and propped his head up, assessing her stance.

Granger's arms were crossed, lips set in a straight line and her hazel eyes were pained. She was still very hurt. And angry. Her hair was loose, curling down around her shoulders. Draco felt his chest tighten when he remembered her tear-streaked face in Trafalgar Square. He had made her feel that way, had made her cry with his comment about her parents. After all she had done for him. Teaching him the Patronus charm, talking through his pure-blood elitism with him, taking him to see Star Wars, and then to the National Gallery. Removing his implant.