Manacled (dramione)

Chapter 31: Flashback 6

April 2002

Draco looked sharply at her, something she couldn't read flickering across his expression.

"It's fine," he said in a hard voice. "When I said I wanted you willing, that meant you were allowed to say no. Although perhaps try saying it instead of purposely provoking me."

Hermione stared at him in shock.

He clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it against his forehead as though he had a headache.

"Do you want to continue with occlumency?" he asked.

Hermione shifted slightly but didn't answer. She felt knocked off kilter. The conversation hadn't-she didn't-

What did he mean?

Was it possibly a feint, so he could catch her off guard?

If she were allowed to say no to things, he certainly hadn't bothered to communicate that to her. In fact he'd heavily implied the opposite. Although-he hadn't really done much that wasn't primarily to just to provoke her.

So-

She eyed him warily.

Something that she said to him that night had accidentally struck a nerve. Deeply.

What had she said?

That power got him off. Hurting someone who couldn't-or wouldn't-fight back. Using what people cared about to torture and cage them and force them to do things. That he was just the same as Voldemort...

That he was just the same as Voldemort.

That was probably it. He probably regarded himself as better than his Master. Maybe he thought that if he helped the Order overthrow Voldemort that it would leave a vacuum of power that he could fill.

The thought made her insides twist.

Was that really it? Was he playing both sides against each other, thinking that he could seize power in the aftermath?

Perhaps he objected to Voldemort's reign of terror; the attacks used to frame the Order, and all the torture and experiments. Malfoy probably imagined he'd rule in a genteel manner where women were ostensibly "willing" and executions were ceremonial.

Yet-it seemed like he'd been more than just offended. His rage-the rage he carried was surely larger than merely ego or ambition.

Her wary expression seemed to annoy him. He hissed slightly and his teeth flashed.

"Suffice to say, I'm not going to hurt you," he ground out. "So stop looking at me as though you expect me to curse you in the back."

The words made Hermione flinch. If she weren't so desperate to ensure that he'd keep spying for them, she would have sneered and asked why he hadn't made such an allowance for Dumbledore. He seemed to see the retort in her expression and his jaw twitched.

She bit her tongue and glanced awkwardly around the shack. "I do want to finish learning occlumency."

"Alright."

His tone was clipped, and he appeared to have boxed in his anger. His face smoothed into that cold, indolent mask once more. But his silver eyes continued to study her. She could almost feel his gaze against her skin.

He moved toward her.

He felt simultaneously the same, and yet different. As though he were going through the same motions, but more consciously than he had in the past. There was a subtle element of over-precision.

He tilted her head back with his fingertips. When she looked deep into his eyes, she could see a bitterness that she didn't think had been there before.