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Game of Thrones	By : iCarney Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 3496 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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002.

Secret Retirement Plans

1998 September 1^st Great Hall, Hogwarts, Scotland

“You love yourself some Hufflepuff, don't you?” Draco sneered over Granger’s shoulder at the retreating blue and yellow house.

“Lovely to see you again, Malfoy.” The Muggleborn said, a hint of sarcasm tainting her voice. “I see you’ve matured a whole lot over the summer.”

At the mention of the previous holidays, Draco felt a jolt of irritation coil in the pit of his stomach. His arctic blue eyes pinned themselves on her for a long moment, wondering if she had seen the change in his posture, knowing his stoic mask slipped for the briefest of moments. Clearly, she noticed as her brows drew together in that typical curious manner she always had when someone said something she didn’t quite understand - how he knew this about her was beyond him. So instead of replying, he hummed in the back of his throat and turned his eyes on Snape who had McGonagall in tow.

“Congratulations to the both of you, again,” the old hag said tightly, nodding her head to each of them. "I know you'll do Hogwarts proud."

They thanked her simultaneously and looked at Snape to do the same. He merely raised a brow at the both of them and looked back at McGonagall. Slightly put out by his Head of Houses’ lack of congratulations, Draco directed a sneer in the older wizards’ way.

“I assume the both of you know where your new dorm rooms are,” Snape finally drawled; Draco nodded as it had been in their letters. The hook nosed professor continued, “There will be a board in your common room with a list of duties that come with those badges, along with a register of events that will be held this year that need to be organised by the student office.”

“You will have to keep the prefects up to speed with what you are doing also, in regards to the Halloween feast and graduation ball especially.” McGonagall added. “If you have any questions, you can ask either one of us or, of course, the Headmaster but I'm sure you are more than capable if you can manage to put your heads together without causing any long lasting harm.”

“You may find your class schedules to be... awfully similar. You’ve been placed in the same classes, as oddly enough the both of you chose to attend this year.” He explained tauntingly. “Each class will have you in pairs if that is what the professor requires for his or her lesson and you will sit at the back of the room to keep an eye on the students around you without being too distracted from your work.”

Draco took all this in thoughtfully. Sharing a dorm with the Mudblood was an effort in itself, but now it appeared he would be spending just about every day and every hour with her as well. He cast a look at Granger who was - as usual - paying attention to the professors words; she was quite ordinary looking, he thought, looking her over as swiftly, but studiously as possible. Her hair was still a tangled mess even if it was less erratic than the previous years. He noticed that certain areas of her body had somewhat filled out, notably her breasts. It was clear she’d acquired a new uniform and, if he wasn’t mistaken, it was perhaps one size too small. Then again, she’d probably been shagging her Hufflepuff nitwit boyfriend all summer so he supposed that releasing the amount of sexual tension in her body she'd been holding out on Potter and Weasel had brought out a newly developed sexual side to her she probably didn’t know she had. That included wearing a shorter skirt and a tighter vest.

“Are we clear, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape snapped lightly, drawing his attention away from the fullness of the Head Girls’ chest.

“Yes sir,” Draco responded automatically, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right; his pants suddenly felt as though they were growing as tight as Granger’s vest. “Crystal.”

Snape glared at him, “Good.”

McGonagall rolled her eyes at the harsh tone, “You will return to your common room, change out of your uniforms and start your patrol. All patrols must be completed by ten PM sharp and have you back in your rooms not five minutes later. Aurors will patrol with the prefects so you don’t need to worry about them.”

“I thought Aurors were patrolling with us as well?” Granger questioned.

“There is a reason we chose the two of you for these roles, Miss Granger,” Snape growled. “I simply advise you to keep your guard up and stick together, if you can manage it. If not, we will find a replacement for you.”

Draco looked at Granger’s face; she looked bright red with anger and embarrassment.

“There will be no need for a replacement, sir.” She bit out, her fists balling at her sides.

“Good,” Snape shot back. “Then get on with it and stop wasting our time as usual.”

Draco looked between the two of them. Did he miss something? They were acting as if this had all happened before tonight and McGonagall even looked like she knew something he didn’t. Draco didn’t like not knowing things he thought he should; he’d corner Granger later.

Draco slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket and rolled his shoulders; he stood still for what felt like a very long time, just looking at himself in his full length mirror.

The walk to their common room had been painfully silent with a thousand thoughts running through his mind; he had two main priorities this year, one of them being graduating - alive, no less - and the other, a task that was being prepared for him to carry out by The Dark Lord. He didn’t know what it would entail or how he was going to pull anything off with the amount of Ministry Officials bound to pass through the school, all he did know was that he really didn’t want to do it.

It was his fathers’ fault, essentially. If Lucius had told Draco about all of this You-Know-Who stuff from the beginning, he wouldn’t be as terrified as he was now. He didn’t even know his father was a Death Eater until he got caught battling it out in the Ministry itself two years prior. Now, having it all thrust upon him on the eve of war was like a tsunami inside of him both frightening and enthralling. He was scared of failing and being killed more than anything but he was also scared that The Dark lord would win and his life would be shrouded in darkness and death forever.

“Come on, Malfoy!”

The impatient words of Granger snapped him from his thoughts and he blinked a couple of times. His eyes were sore and stingy and he had a headache. He hadn’t slept all that well over the summer, knowing Lord Voldemort was just a jump, skip and hop away from him at all hours, plotting and planning. Then there was the horde of Death Eaters bouncing around his childhood home, a place he had once called his haven, without any respect his family. One night, he had heard a meeting was taking place and an example was going to be made. He hadn’t expected to be invited and when it concluded, he really wished he hadn’t.

He pushed the memory of Charity Burbage's death aside and left his room, entering the common room where Granger stood impatiently, tapping her wand against her denim fitted thigh. He looked at her, somewhat dumbstruck. She was wearing a bone coloured blouse that was made of chiffon, a slip beneath it of the same colour. The jeans she had on were too tight in his opinion; since when did girls wear such tightly fitted pants? Then again, his world didn’t have many Muggle females in it unless they were dead or on their way there.

No, he told himself, he wouldn’t think about such things around Granger. She was too inquisitive and smart; he’d be barraged with questions he wouldn’t be able to answer.

“What are you wearing?” he asked lamely. “We’re patrolling, not rendezvousing to snog each other senseless. Although,” he commented as she turned her back on him, his eyes trailing south. “I do appreciate the effort to wear such... enticing clothes around me, Granger.”

Yes, he had just flirted with her, but it was more of a taunt than anything.

She looked over her shoulder at him, “Careful, Malfoy, no one would appreciate the likes of you ogling the likes of me.”

He raised a brow and approached her, stalking her like a predator would circle its prey, “It’s nice to know that you actually take pride in your appearance after so many years of doing the opposite.” He paused in front of her, dipping his face close to hers, “Diggory isn’t here to protect you this year, Granger, and I daresay clothes like this is bound to attract the wrong sort of attention.”

An indignant look came over her face, “I can handle myself, Malfoy and I’ll have you know that these clothes are perfectly normal for girls my age. You don’t know anything about female clothing so why don’t you just keep your eyes off my arse and my breasts and pay attention to your own life.”

“Ooh,” he taunted. “Is that a challenge, princess?”

“Do not call me that.” she snapped.

“It’s what you are, isn't it? Gryffindor’s little golden princess, meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in and saving the day from big bad Death Eaters?”

“What, like yourself?”

Her words caught him off guard and he heard himself stammer, “What?”

“The saying goes, in both the Muggle and Wizarding world, like father, like son.” She said coldly, looking down at his left forearm.

He followed her gaze, thinking that at some point his sleeve had ridden up to reveal the Dark mark, but it hadn’t. He whipped his head back up, looking hard into her eyes and glared.

“You don’t know a thing about my family, Granger,” he whispered venomously. “And it would do you well to keep your mouth shut about any ideas that are rolling around in that head of yours.”

“Is that a threat?” she said heatedly.

He closed the proximity between them, causing her neck to crane so as not to break eye contact, “It’s whatever you want to make it, princess.”

The tension in the room was suddenly so thick it was choking the air from both of them. Draco could feel her anger and determination rolling off her in waves and he couldn’t help but think it was slightly engaging. This girl, the bane of his existence, was going to do whatever it took to out him as Death Eater; he could see the grit in her eyes. But was he truly a Death Eater? Just because he was branded one in a do or die situation, did it actually make him one? The thought was inconclusive. He assumed that once he completed whatever mission handed to him that it was then that he would officially join the ranks next to his father.

Maybe he was wrong.

“Stay out of my life, Granger,” he said with an air of finality. “I mean it.”

Her eyes narrowed, her expression speaking volumes of what was unsaid. Growling in the back of his throat, he pushed past her, keen to get the patrol over and done with so he could get back into the confines of his bedroom and dream of anything but her annoyingly curious, clouded chocolate eyes.

The moment they returned to their common room, more drama ensued. Granger wanted to shower, but so did Draco and he wasn’t about to be a gentleman for her and allow her to go first. If she was to wash her hair, there’d surely be no hot water left, regardless of its never-ending, magicked supply. Her hair would take hours to wash and he always showered before bed. He now stood shirtless outside the bathroom door, towel in hand glaring down at a towel covered Granger. Clearly she hadn’t thought about what it was like to live with a male, but then again, perhaps she walked around naked when she was with Diggory. The thought of her walking around the common room naked spurred a little jolt in his abdomen; he scowled at her and decided to put his foot down.

“We’re going to have to sort out some kind of timing schedule because I refuse to do this with you every night.” Draco said angrily as he valiantly attempted to keep his eyes on her face and not at the flush rolling down her neck to where her breasts were pushed together to create a wonderfully lickable sight. “I take ten minutes in the shower, Granger. You and your hair take ten hours.”

“I do not take ten hours; fifteen minutes, tops.” she responded resentfully. “And my hair is not as unmanageable as you think it is, Malfoy, it’s actually quite easy to tame I just don’t bother.”

“Well maybe you should bother because half the time I can barely see over or around it,” he shot at her darkly, flinging his towel over his shoulder.

“No, I’m showering first.” She said, ignoring his comment all together. “Now get out of my way.”

The palm of her hand pushed flat against his chest, moving him back half an inch. He grunted from the sudden force of her actions but didn’t move far enough for her to get through. He had imagined that her touching him while they were both so inappropriately clothed would make him sick or at least a little nauseated, but he found himself stepping forward again, just to have her repeat the touch again.

“Malfoy, please,” she said tiredly, but in his ears, she was pleading.

“Please what?” he asked hoarsely, looking down her full length as he caught her hand against his chest with his own.

She pulled from his grasp so suddenly and so quickly, he felt whiplash kick in, “You’re despicable, you know that? Using me to fill your own sexual frustrations. I’m engaged!”

“He doesn’t even know you!” Draco found himself saying rather unexpectedly.

Salazar, help me, he thought irritably as, without a word or a glance back, he ripped the bathroom door open, stormed in and slammed the door shut after him.

He had long ago realised that there was another Draco inside him that often made him do stupid and unthinkable things. Clearly, said ‘Draco’ was the one controlling him tonight because he was thinking of Granger in ways that were practically against his nature; he had touched her intimately - he had touched Cedric Diggory’s fiancé with the intent to claim. Cedric might not have been a Malfoy by name, but he was still considered family given the bloodlines entwined but he wasn’t about to sprout that off now. He was marrying a Mudblood which meant the bloodlines would be tainted with filth. Although it didn’t directly affect Draco nor his offspring were he to live long enough to have any, it affected his mind more than anything ever had.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but think that she was his Granger. He was the one who taunted and bullied her all these years; Draco was the one who had made her so angry so many times that it had once resulted in her slapping him hard across the face leaving a red welt for several hours against his porcelain complexion. Draco was supposed to be the only pureblood worth mentioning in her life regardless of how he was mentioned, but yet here Diggory was, his cousin, marrying his fucking Granger. Of course Draco would never marry the Mudblood bint, but he had entertained the thought of shagging her every other day while he married a pureblood witch, spat out a couple of kids and before retiring, settled down with said Mudblood bint in some far away cottage, away from the bloodlines and prejudice, away from everything and just go back to his school days where the only thing he had to worry about was getting caught shagging Granger.

He remembered the day he had read about their engagement; how his chest had tightened and his stomach had dropped. He had never thought too much into those oddly timed sensation but as he now sat on the toilet seat, thinking about it, they were two big blinking red warning signs of jealousy. Draco knew what jealousy was for there had been times in his life when people had certain things he didn’t and wanted. This time, however, it was over a girl who he had been brought up to believe that wasn’t even worth his gaze. Jealousy in this kind of situation wasn’t the kind a person like Draco lived through if he ever acted on it.

For now, he supposed, he would deal with what he had: a hot shower, a good wank and a Dreamless Sleep potion.

Author's Notes:

I guess Draco is a little bit undecided about pretty much everything. Just remember, I'm writing this story straight off the bat; none of it's planned or etch-a-sketched so the plot is kind of making little detours here and there. Nothing is as it seems.

Imogen x
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