Dark Granger

Untitled Part 4

Hermione frowned slightly, pulling at her handcuffs. The ending of that wasn't nearly as good as it had been, not now that Harry had actually managed to catch her.

He hadn't deserved the catch. All that idiot Scarehead had been able to do was rally other people; he wasn't good at magic, he wasn't remotely observant. The only thing Harry had going for him was a ridiculous amount of bravery and determination, both of which, in Hermione's correct opinion, were synonyms for stupid.

She hadn't even considered the Order a real threat until later in the summer. August 1st was when first she thought that not turning back time might've been a mistake. But she had remained secure in her decision; after all, even if things did go wrong she was still the brightest witch of her age.

...

"Draco," she called through her parent's home, opening the door to her study. By this point, she had long since removed the hideous decor from her childhood and replaced it with something much more elegant; much more deserving of a witch of her power. "Are you done with the potion yet?"

"Yes." His voice was dull. She glanced around the room as she entered, eyes falling on the cooling red liquid and the boy that sat on the ground beside it.

Her toy looked as fancy as he always had. Long black suits and neatly combed hair made for a beautiful combination, though Hermione had to admit she liked it when he looked all broken on the floor in front of her as well. Either way, her favorite toy was gorgeous.

"Did you try and find a way out of my orders?" She strode up to the potion and sniffed it. It smelled correct, at the very least.

"Yes." There was no emotion in that flat voice.

"Were you successful in any way shape or form today?"

"No." Hmm. Perhaps there had been emotion. His defeat was being channeled into apathy.

"Good. Did you message the Minister?"

"Yesterday."

"Is he coming?"

Draco wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the dark wood of her floor, tracing the lines between each plank. That lack of caring in her direction made her prickle, even as he responded.

"He'll be here at noon. I already set the traps and I asked that he not tell anyone or the deal was off." He still wasn't looking at her. "Of course, despite what your rather fanciful mind might think, I can't make him not tell anyone-"

"Enough." His tongue stilled instantly, but that needless fury still resonated in her. "Stand up and face me."

Slowly, her knight followed her instructions, meeting her brown eyes. She searched his grey ones, staring into what many believed the portal into the soul. It was a lie, in her correct opinion. Eyes were harder, but you could convince anything to lie for you.

Of course, Hermione had ordered he always be truthful to her. And so when she looked into his eyes, she could see all of the desperation and hatred brimming there. But what made her smile wasn't the exposed trauma, but the lack of fight.

It would take time, but soon her knight would be hers, both mind and body.

"Kiss me, Pet. Like you mean it."

The command was followed instantly. She closed her eyes as his tongue flicked against her lips, asking for an entrance he didn't really want. Their tongues intertwined and Hermione pulled Draco closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pressed a cold hand against her cheek, tangling his long fingers into her hair.