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Tit for Tat	By : PulchritudinousPain Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 17003 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Harry Potter series, nor the characters from it. All characters belong to JK Rowling. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter 11 – Retaliation Denied

Hermione smoothed out her robes and followed Draco from the bedroom where she had comforted him in his grief, holding him as he steeled himself for the terrible day to come. They walked down the stairs and crossed the hallway to the front door where he paused, holding both her hand and the doorknob, hesitant to face what lay on the other side. She squeezed his hand and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and opened the door. They walked silently hand in hand across the grass to where the funeral guests awaited. A mass of bodies with anonymous faces stood and watched their progress to the front.
Draco sat grimly, clutching her hand, while a small wizard with a whiskered face and beaded eyes started talking about the lives of the deceased. “We are gathered here today to honour the lives of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.”
She watched tears fall from Draco’s face and conjured him a hankerchief. He squeezed her hand with gratitude.
Hermione had contacted Andromeda and asked her to speak on behalf of Narcissa. She spoke of her sister affectionately, about their lives as children and how they had been close but headstrong and of differing opinions. She spoke of how they loved to hunt for bowtruckles in the woods of their country estate and how Narcissa had confided in her of her love for Lucius Malfoy, the young, handsome heir to the Malfoy estate. Hermione had never thought of Narcissa Malfoy as a child. She never thought of her as loving Lucius. It seemed to her to be a marriage of convenience, that Lucius had married her for her to produce a pure-blood heir and she for the stature and wealth, but perhaps she had misjudged them both.
A stout middle-aged wizard spoke of Lucius as a statesman, a benefactor, who garnered respect from the community. He glossed over his involvement with Voldemort, saying only for a man who gambled with power and wealth for his livelihood it was often difficult to determine where to place one’s chips. He spoke of Draco, the heir, and how much like Lucius he was learning at his knee and determined that he too would be a statesman, a pillar of the community in his own right now that the estate had passed to him. Draco snorted derisively.
The proceedings were complete, the coffins laid in the mausoleum, and the guests directed to the ballroom for the wake.
Gregory Goyle was the first to greet Draco as he entered. He shook Draco’s hand and spoke softly in his ear. “Fucking muggles. It’s a tragedy, Draco, but we’ll avenge your parents. I know a few wizards who can take out entire city blocks, just say the word.”
Draco looked at him with disgust. “No, Goyle. There’ll be no retaliation against muggles for this, do you understand? Let the aurors handle it. I want justice, not revenge. The only thing you have correct is that this is a tragedy. Leave it be and let it be known that I want no further bloodshed attributed to the Malfoy name, not ever again.”
He pulled Hermione away and across the room to where the bar was open. He took a swig of firewhisky and steeled himself.
“Draco, that was decent of you. I’m sure your father would be proud.”
Draco simply looked forlorn. “I’ll never know. I’ll never know if anything I do from now on would make him proud. I’m adrift, Hermione. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” She hugged him and he buried his face in her shoulder, anchoring himself to her.
Hermione stood at Draco’s arm as guest after guest came and shook his hand, offering their condolences and asking if he would remain a benefactor for their cause. He bore it well, stoicly, but as time wore on she saw he needed to be alone. She bundled him into the library away from the guests, locked the door and gave him a glass of firewhisky for his nerves.
“Did you see them?” he asked her. “Those vultures out there. They only care about the money, all of them.”
“Draco, it’s not their fault. Your father funded their causes. His passing leaves a void and they’re only looking for reassurance.” She stood patient, stoic, whilst he paced back and forth in a flurry of agitation.
“It’s relentless, Hermione, the clawing and scratching for gold. I despise them for it. I’ve had enough.”
“Would you like me to ask them to leave?”
“No. Let them feed their fat bellies and toast to my dead parents,” he spat.
She tried to remain reasonable in the face of his emotional upheaval. She would be his sounding board, his whipping boy, whatever he needed, such was her love for him. “You’re angry. It’s okay to feel angry about this. There’s nothing fair about any of it.”
“I don’t want to feel like this, Hermione.” He held her close, his hot breath in her ear. “It hurts so much. God, I want to feel something else, anything else.” He kissed her roughly, bruising her lips, his hands searching her body for escape. He gripped her buttocks so hard it hurt and jerked her roughly.
“Take the pain away from me, Granger.” He dragged his fingers over her flesh, digging into the skin, tearing it raw. She gasped in pain.
“Draco, you’re hurting me.”
His hands were rough, tugging at her clothes, tearing them.
“I need to fuck you. I need to feel something good.”
He cupped her back and neck and lowered her to the ground. He pushed up her robes, pulling at her underwear. She struggled against him. “Stop.”
He sat back on his haunches, his face reflecting pain as if though she had had slapped him. She sat upright and knealt next to him. She kissed him softly. “It’s alright, my love, it’s alright.”
Tears brimmed in his eyes. She brushed them from his cheek and kissed the salty moisture from his skin. She took his hand and placed it on her breast.
“You can have me,” she promised, “but only if you’re kind.”
He leaned into her and she conceded to him, laying on the floor, her garments in tatters as he mounted her. She allowed him to pour his grief into her. She clasped his neck, drawing him into her chest and he rocked gently, a river of salty tears falling on her bosom. She hushed his crying and he eventually released, lying on top of her, crushing the air from her lungs.
He rolled slightly and they lay, side by side. She still surrounded him, he did not withdraw from her, but held her close.
“I can’t let you go, Granger. I need you.”
She held him close, not yet understanding his meaning.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Tit for Tat