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The Tyger and The Lamb	By : crzydiamond Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 42078 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to Harry Potter in any way. No money is being made from this story

Chapter List
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A/N- thanks for the reviews! They're greatly appreciated. If you guys have any story line suggestions feel free to make them!

“Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed

By the stream and o'er the mead...”

-William Blake, The Lamb

Enter the Lamb

Two hours after spitting in Draco's face, Hermione sat in her room which had actually been decorated according to her taste. The walls were a pretty, pale shade of powder blue with beautiful crown molding in a creamy white. Her bed was large, the frame made of intricate, wrought iron. There was a big, fluffy white rug in front of the charming fireplace, two large armchairs in a cream and black damask pattern flanking the hearth.

On another wall was white shelving for all of her books. And the opposite wall was taken up completely by a beautiful bay window decorated with translucent white curtains which led out onto a balcony which overlooked the magnificent garden and the fields of English countryside beyond.

She spent time unpacking and when she was done, she was happy to say the place looked a little like hers. It made her feel somewhat better to have place of her own in a devil's manor. She sat down at the sleek, elegant desk placed before the windows and began writing a letter to Ron.

Ron,

I know you must have your reasons but honestly, running off like that, you scared the living daylights out of me. What if something had happened to you? It's only from your mother's clock that we know you're still alive.

Anyway, I have some terrible news I must tell you if you haven't heard of it already. But I would like to have the chance to tell you in person. When are you coming back?

Lo-

Hermione paused, not sure of how to sign the letter.

There was a sound across the room and she thought it was another house elf, coming in to check on her. She began to speak, “I'm fine for right now-”

She stopped, her eyes going wide as she saw her husband to be standing in her doorway, looking impassively at her.

“Malfoy, what're you doing here?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes.

“I do own this house.”

“These are my rooms!” Hermione protested. She whipped her wand out, the tip directed between his eyes. “Get out.”

He smirked at her. “Go ahead, Granger. Hex me.”

She blinked, shocked by his challenge at first but quickly cast an expelliarmus at him. The streak of blue light bounced off of him and dissipated.

“You're in my house,” he said, leaning over her. She shrank back as far as she could, trying to put distance between them. “Did you really think you could cast a spell against me?”

“Yes,” Hermione said defiantly. “I did to your father.”

“He was no longer master of this house,” Draco said, straightening. His eyes caught the letter she was writing and before she could protest, he snatched it from the desk. He read the first few sentences, stopping at the incomplete love Hermione had almost signed.

His face hardened and his eyes became so cold that Hermione felt as though a bucket of ice water was dumped over her. She had spent almost two years living in the same house as him and if there was one thing that scared her it was his anger. Though he fought on their side, he was as dark and dangerous as any Deatheater they were fighting against on the battlefield.

“Weasley?” Draco said in a deceptively smooth voice. “Still pining after the ginger haired clown?”

“I wanted to know if he was alright,” Hermione said, bristling at his insult. “He's my friend Malfoy.”

“Really?” Draco said silkily with a raised eyebrow. “A friend would abruptly break a marriage contract and leave you to the wolves?”

Hermione folded her arms across her chest defiantly. “Your Slytherin reasoning won't work with me Malfoy. I'm loyal to my friends- I know he wouldn't have done it unless he had good reason. I trust him.”

“Trust,” Draco snorted as his fingers curled into a tight fist, the letter crumpling in his hand. “What an over rated concept.”

“Only because you've never become acquainted with it,” Hermione shot back, sitting back down at her desk and pulling out another piece of parchment. She began the letter the same way before it disappeared from beneath her quill.

She looked up to see Draco dangling the letter in front of her. She reached for it but stopped short when she noticed the deadly serious look in his eyes.

“No more writing to Weasley,” he snapped, ripping the parchment from top to bottom. “Believe me Granger, if you try to send him a letter, I will know.”

“You have no right to say who I can and cannot write to!

“Actually Granger I can.” He smirked when the angry look fell from her face, replaced by a bewildered one. “Seems you didn't read that contract very thoroughly.”

With a snap of his fingers, the contract appeared in his hands and his eyes scanned the terms until he reached the one he was searching for. “The Husband has all rights to prohibit any untoward contact between his wife and her former associates. Discretion concerning propriety are left to the Husband....”

“Untoward?” Hermione interrupted incredulously. “He's a friend Malfoy! Just because he's male doesn't mean that I'm making designs to sleep with him!”

“You were going to marry him,” Draco pointed out with a triumphant quirk of his lips as he vanished the contract. “I think I'm valid in my decision.”

Her frustration made her want to explode and to her dismay, it escaped in the form of a couple of tears. His grey eyes caught those tears, one which he caught with the pad of his thumb.

“One letter, you insufferable chit,” he snarled. “Just one. Don't push the limits of my benevolence.”

Draco was a cold man, like his father. But like his father, a woman's tears could move him to agree to things he would never agree on normally. Narcissa employed that tactic quite often when Lucius was being unreasonable or stubborn.

Besides the letter wouldn't hurt. The contract that Weasley signed didn't prohibit him from corresponding with Hermione but it did prevent him from revealing any information about his...arrangement with Draco. Perhaps, Draco thought, allowing her to write to Weasley would abate some of the feelings she was having and endear him to her a little.

The look on her face was worth it, he decided, as a small grateful smile lit up her dull, amber eyes. She almost thanked him before remembering he was the reason of her plight in the first place.

Draco slid onto her desk, languidly sitting there, eyes intently focused on her as she wrote her letter to Ron. She glanced at him a couple of times, clearly uncomfortable with his looming presence. She wrote it exactly how she did before, signing the “love” with flourish just to annoy Malfoy further. He narrowed his eyes but didn't object, merely taking the letter from her and sliding it into an envelope stamped with the Malfoy insignia.

He threw open the window and whistled loudly. Hermione looked at him bewildered. “What exactly was that Malfoy?”

Seconds later, a large black eagle swooped into the room, alighting onto Draco's shoulder. It was quite a stunning bird, with inky plumage and a pastel, orange curved beak. He cocked his head at Draco as if awaiting orders.

Draco stroked the eagle's head. “Take this to Ronald Weasley, Icelus.”

It gently nipped Draco's finger before taking the envelope in its giant beak. It opened its impressive, six foot wingspan with a great rush of air before taking off and soaring back out the window into the dwindling afternoon sky.

“He's beautiful,” Hermione said a little breathily, eyes still fixed on the eagle's' quickly retreating form.

“I've had him all his life,” Draco said with a note of pride in his voice. “He is my familiar.”

She almost sighed wistfully- Crookshanks had passed away a year ago and she hadn't the heart to go looking for another familiar. She was still mourning the loss of her feline friend. Draco hated Crookshanks whom she'd brought to the manor during the war- in fact most people did. He'd ambush Order members, shredding their trousers beyond recognition before dashing away with a war like yowl. Oddly enough, the cat spent a lot of time with Lucius, purring like a tank in his lap.

He seemed to catch the sadness in her gaze and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the words he was about to say. “I'm sorry about your beast Granger. Though I'm sure you're the only one who misses his presence.”

To say she was shell shocked by his backwards, insulting apology for her loss would be an understatement. She stared at him incredulously for a moment before muttering, “Thank you.”

The soft look left his face abruptly, leaving behind the stony, icy visage she was so used to.“Get ready and wear the gown the House Elves have prepared for you. Be downstairs in no more than an hour.”

Her mouth dropped open. “A gown? For what Malfoy?”

He turned around and looked at her as though she had three heads. “The engagement party of course.”

Her head snapped up and her eyes opened wide with astonishment. “Engagement party? We've only just gone into contract and this isn't even a real marriage!”

“Do not argue with me,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at her. “You have no choice.”

“Of course I have no choice,” she replied bitterly. “If I did, I wouldn't be here to begin with.”

“Unfortunately for you Granger, you are here,” he said with one of his infamous smirks. “One hour,” he then repeated in a steely voice. “Do not waste my mother's efforts.”

“Narcissa planned it?” Hermione hurriedly asked before he could leave the room.

“It is tradition,” was his only answer. “I'm sure you'd like nothing less than to disappoint my mother Granger.” With that, Malfoy left her room with flourish, the door closing magically behind him

Hermione scowled, cursing her fiancee underneath her breath. He knew that she and Narcissa had struck up an unlikely, unforeseen friendship after Hermione saved the Malfoy matriarch's life. In the absence of her own mother who had been killed during the war by Deatheaters, both Narcissa and Molly Weasley had been the matronly presences that Hermione sorely missed and needed in her life.

Knowing that she couldn't disrespect Narcissa to such an extent as not showing up to the party, Hermione approached the bed where the dress had appeared seconds after Draco's departure. She lovingly ran her hand along the fabric.

She had to admit that the dress was a breathtaking piece of art. It would hug her body like a second skin, falling to gently caress the tops of her feet. It was sleeveless, with a halter top that covered her breasts and wrapped around her neck. The piece de resistance of the dress was the completely open back that stopped right before the swell of Hermione's buttocks.

What really made the gown beautiful was that it was entirely encrusted with thousands of tiny, shimmering incandescent golden stones that made the dress shimmer in the light like a water in the sun.

The elves put her hair up, sweeping it back in a elegant large bun to show of the back of the dress. Her eyes were done in a dramatic smoky eye and a slight bronzer was applied to her cheeks and the rest of her bare skin, making her skin glow like the dress.

Always punctual, Hermione appeared at the entrance of the grand ballroom just as the clock hit seven. Immediately she was bombarded with flashes from photographer's cameras as the wizarding press descended upon her like vultures on a still warm carcass.

“Are you excited to join the Malfoy family, Ms. Granger?”

“Is it true that you begged Draco Malfoy to take you as his wife?”

“Where is Ronald Weasley?”

“What designer have you chosen to do your wedding gown?”

Hermione took a deep breath and prepared herself to walk past the paparazzi. She smiled widely at all the cameras but did not comment on any of the questions. She entered the ball room, where the press was not allowed, and stood atop the grand staircase which led to the dance floor.

She wasn't surprised to see the ballroom full of the wizarding elite- officials from various Ministries around the world stood in clusters, heatedly discussing politics and international relations. There were vapid looking young woman fanning themselves dramatically with lily white hands. She even saw the muggle prime minister conversing with Shacklebolt, and to her relief, Harry. As she entered, the entire room turned to stare.

“Oh bugger,” she muttered.

Suddenly she heard a deep, masculine voice from behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to see Draco, his gray eyes heated as they slid from her face down the back of her gown. She felt a burning sensation in the pit of her belly that made a blush rise to her cheeks.

“You look breath taking,” he said almost reverently, looking her up and down again.

“I clean up pretty well,” she said sarcastically, trying to calm her nerves as she turned back around to stare at the huge crowd.

She started as she felt his large, hand slide against the exposed skin of her lower back. “Relax, he said into her ear, making her shiver. “You must be convincing Granger.” To her surprise, he then pressed a slow, languid kiss to her temple.

Draco pulled back and smirked at her, taking her small hand in his large one before leading her down the steps. The crowd began to clap, the sound thunderous in the cavernous ballroom. Various people congratulated them, slapping Draco on the back or taking Hermione's free hand to gently shake it.

Draco led her through the crowd and it wasn't long before they were pounced upon by various pureblood families, old time acquaintances of the Malfoys who had all, no doubt, had their eyes on Draco as a future husband for their daughters. Hermione was very aware of the chilly looks she was receiving from various women around the room, their eyes sliding from her to Draco jealously.

It was ironic because this wasn't a marriage of love- it was a forced marriage. And she was going to be at the top of most pureblood witches' death list for something she had no control over. If she had her way, she'd be the one in the crowd, congratulating Narcissa on her son's engagement, with Harry and Ron.

“Such a lovely couple,” came a familiar voice from their right. Turning, they saw it was the Minister, smiling broadly as he approached.

Draco's hand tightened around her own and he looked at her warningly, She got the hint immediately- if she acted any less than a complacent, loving fiancee, there'd be consequences. He needed to put on a good show in order to get on the good side of the Ministry officials.

“Ah, Draco!” the Minister said enthusiastically, taking Draco's hand. “So good to see you!”

“Minister,” Draco replied with a charming smile that immediately transformed his cold face.

“And Hermione Granger,” he continued, gently taking Hermione's hand in his own before pressing a chaste kiss to her skin. “I have not had the pleasure of having your acquaintance in the years I've heard of your famed talent.”

“Thank you Minister,” Hermione replied politely. “I suppose I have your administration to thank for my new engagement to Draco.”

“Ah, so you were a victim then,” he said with a twinkle in his eye which reminded her of Dumbledore.

“She was a victim to other circumstances,” Draco interrupted smoothly, no doubt referencing to their life bond. He smirked down at her as he continued. “Love it seems, compelled her to accept my marriage offer. I was surprised myself, that she agreed.”

Hermione colored at the blatant lie, pursing her lips together in a tight line as the Minister continued their conversation.

“How wonderful! Young love, such a beautiful thing.” he cried. “And when is this delightful wedding scheduled to happen?”

“In two weeks,” Draco answered. “We want to do the nuptials as early as possible.”

“I tried to convince Draco that I would rather have a spring wedding,” Hermione said quickly, trying her best to postpone the nuptials in the only way she could . “Don't you think spring would be such a better season for a wedding Minister? Everything will be in bloom. Whats the harm in waiting another eight months?”

“Yes, a springtime wedding would be very lovely,” Alvius said smiling.

“I thought autumn would suit much better,” Draco said.

The Minister look torn but quickly agreed, “That's true also.”

“Besides, my mother has already planned the wedding,” Draco said as he fingers tightened around Hermione's arm. She barely contained a pained grimace. “All that's left is for my darling Hermione to pick her dress.”

The polite, menial conversation continued with the Minister for a few more minutes before Draco excused the both of them, claiming that they had to go talk to Narcissa.

“What exactly do you think you're playing at?” he asked in that smooth dangerous voice that sent chills down her spine.

“Merely making suggestions,” Hermione said, her eyes wide and innocent. “Did I do something wrong darling?”

His face blackened at her mockery. “I suggest darling that you keep the suggestions to yourself and play the role of a devoted fiancee.”

“And relegate myself to conversations about hair color and robe designs? If you wanted a vapid, enamored bride Malfoy, then you should've bought the contract of one. I am neither and refuse to the play the part, just because you want to look good to the public!”

His grey eyes searched hers for a moment before he raised a long finger to stroke the length of her cheek. The softness in the gesture made Hermione's breath catch in her throat.

“Granger, your mind is what I respect and value. I don't want an Astoria Greengrass on my arm.”

Hermione glanced over to where the girl was standing, glowering at them as her friends twittered incessantly around her. She was missing quite a bit of her brain but made up for it in galleons and beauty.

His fingers slipped underneath her chin, where his grip became tight and almost painful. “But if you disrespect me in anyway and make anyone think we're less than what they think we are, there will be hell to pay once we reach upstairs.” The promise in his voice caused a bolt of fear in Hermione's gut.

“Wouldn't it be so much better if we didn't have to pretend Malfoy?” she asked, defeated, as he slipped his arm around her waist again. “Why buy my contract? Why force yourself into a year of role playing? Why not buy the contract of a woman who adores you?”

He only shot her a look that meant he was done with their conversation.

Suddenly, she saw Harry making his way through the crowd towards them, green eyes heated and angry as he looked at Draco's arm around her waist. She felt the blonde stiffen beside her.

“Remember my warning,” he said into her hair. “The contract will allow me to be...rather rough on you Granger. So don't invoke my wrath tonight.”

Draco pulled away as Harry finally reached them, staring down at his nemesis. “Potter. How wonderful that you decided to grace our party with your presence.”

“Now, now there's no need for that,” Hermione admonished in a gentle tone, sounding like she was scolding her fiancee for wearing the wrong cufflinks instead of insulting her best friend. Harry looked at her, surprised at the lack of venom and relative placidity in her voice.

“Malfoy,” Harry replied shortly after a moment.“I received an invitation from your mother.”

“I'll be sure to thank her for doing that,” Draco said through clenched teeth. Obviously Narcissa would receive a tongue lashing later on.

“Draco,” she said, trying on an almost seductive voice she heard other women employ frequently. He raised his eyebrows when she stood on tip toe to brush her lips against his cheek. “I think I need a glass of wine. Would you mind getting me one?”

Hermione knew she could 't very well do much without Draco's permission and looked at him almost pleadingly, in contrast to her confident, lilting tone of voice. He smirked at her obvious discomfort. Finally, he assented with a slight nod of his head.

“I'll be back shortly.” He squeezed her arm to remind her of her promise before stalking towards the refreshment table where wine was flowing from the beak of a great phoenix carved from ice.

A sigh of relief blew through her lips as she quickly stepped forward and hugged Harry. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, almost as though he was afraid she'd disappear from his grasp.

“Oh Hermione,” he breathed, his voice swelling with emotion.

“Harry, I'm so glad you're here.”

“I suppose I should congratulate you but I think its worthless considering the situation,” Harry quipped, cracking a sad smile.

She couldn't help the tear that escaped from the corner of her eye which Harry brushed away. “Please don't cry Hermione. You'll only make me want to hex the git even more.”

She shook her head, laughing through the tears. “Its alright. It hasn't been...unbearable so far. He actually let me send a letter to Ron.”

At the mention of their missing best friend, Harry's face developed a darker mien. “We've been searching for him. We can't find him Hermione. No one knows where he is.”

“I just...I don't know what happened. I'm afraid that something horrible-”

“He's fine,” Harry interrupted with a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I checked Molly's clock earlier today and it says he's fine. He left- for whatever reason he left without a word. To me Hermione, he's the reason you're getting married to Malfoy. Its his fault-”

“He must've had a good reason,” Hermione countered. “We know Ron. He wouldn't have left if there wasn't something...”

“Like what? What could possibly convince him to just disappear without a trace?”

She sighed resignedly. “I don't know.”

“I'm trying my best to get this law revoked Hermione,” Harry then said. “I'm not going to let you stay married to him for a year.”

“I have no choice,” she replied. “But there must be some greater reason for him bonding me to marriage for a year.”

“Bond?” he asked confused. Finally his features soothed with understanding. “He invoked a life bond to make you sign the contract? But why?”

“I've no idea. But he's up to something, I know it.”

“Update me as often as you can 'Mione,” Harry whispered quickly, watching as Draco made his way back, two wine glasses in hand. “You know that he won't like you coming to see me or the Weasleys very often.”

“Harry,” she said, an almost desperate tone in her voice. She grabbed his hand. “Please. If anything from Ron...just-”

“You don't even have to ask,” he said with a small smile. “Of course, without hesitation.”

Hermione stiffened as she felt Draco's strong arm slide around her waist and pull her to him. “Care to unhand my fiancee Potter?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

Harry scowled, dropping Hermione's hand. “I won't stop petitioning the Ministry to get this travesty annulled. I promise you.”

“Life bonds don't heed the changes in the law of the Ministry,” Draco replied smoothly, his grey eyes going dark. “For one year, we are bonded, no matter what the Ministry does.”

Harry's jaw clenched in anger. “I swear Malfoy, if any harm befalls her while she's under your care-”

“I assure you, that won't happen.” To Hermione's relief, his tone was lacking any sarcasm and was quite serious. “Malfoy's take very good care of their own.”

Harry seemed to be satisfied by Draco's promise and only nodded to the pair before moving away into the crowd where he was followed by a loud gaggle of girls, begging to get an autograph.

“Why did you tell him about the bond?” she asked as he led her by the elbow to the table where Narcissa and Lucius were sitting with a man in black whose back was to them.

“I figured you would open your big mouth and tell him anyway,” Draco said darkly. “I was right in my assumption wasn't I?”

Her cheeks flushed guiltily but she didn't answer, only taking a sip of wine.

“You don't follow instructions very well do you?” he continued, this time speaking hotly into her ear. “Do you want me to punish you Granger? Your tendencies lead me to believe that maybe you have a masochistic streak underneath all that Gryffindor.”

Her already pink cheeks turned a deep red but she couldn't open her mouth to reply. When she thought of punishment, she thought of a well placed crucio or perhaps a duel. The way Draco's gray eyes traveled over her person gave her the distinct impression that his punishment tactics gravitated towards...a more carnal avenue.

She thought back to the time during the war when they were stationed at the Manor. Hermione had never told anyone but Ginny that she and Draco had some brief, intense experiences together. Lucius also knew, though she had no idea how.

All of her couplings with Draco were heated, passionate and almost violent. He'd take her almost anywhere, especially after they'd been dueling, pressing her against any hard surface he could find before ravishing her thoroughly.

It was an unspoken agreement that they'd never talk about it again and she had let the memories drift to the dark recesses of her mind. Until now. It was obvious that Draco was planning to use the contract's influence to gain some physical pleasure out of their arrangement.

That aspect hadn't even came to mind. Hermione hadn't even thought about the fact she may have to sleep with Malfoy during their year of marriage. But now that she mulled it over, it became more and more obvious that she had no choice in the matter. If he really wanted her, then he could take her despite her protests.

The question that remained, was why?

His deep voice brought her out of her reverie. “I can tell what you're thinking Granger. Your emotions are easy to read.”

“Malfoy-” she began in a demanding voice.

“Not now,” he growled back. She watched him smile as his mother stood and approached them, absolutely stunning in ice blue dress robes. There was a thin, silvery line encompassing her throat, a memoir from her near fatal encounter with her sister's beheading hex.

“My son,” Narcissa said fondly as Draco took her hand and kissed it. “I never thought I'd see the day you were engaged.” She turned her cobalt eyes on Hermione. “My dear, it has been too long.”

“Narcissa,” Hermione replied warmly, allowing the older witch to draw her into a tight hug.

Lucius then approached, wearing black robes with an emerald waistcoat underneath. “Draco. Ms. Granger,” he said stiffly.

“Father,” Draco responded in the same slightly cold manner, shaking Lucius' hand. “Mother, the party is wonderful.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. Though she'd rather be anywhere else, Narcissa did plan a beautiful party.

“Well we have a wedding we need to start planning,” Narcissa said enthusiastically, clapping her hands together. “I need to steal Hermione for a moment for just that.”

Draco stared at his mother, eyes narrowed, before the look passed, replaced by one of his charming smiles. “Of course.”

Hermione allowed the older witch to draw her away from the table, towards one of the open windows overlooking the garden. She grasped Hermione's hands in her own, her expression immediately sobering.

“Oh Hermione, what's happened?”

Once again, she had to push back the urge to cry. She decided it must be that time of the month as she was usually not prone to bursting out into tears. “I don't know. Ron disappeared Narcissa- no word, nothing. And Draco was the only offer still valid on my contract.”

“Even then you did not have to accept!” Narcissa was a little red but then flustered, embarrassed by her vehemence. “Excuse me for my outburst. I'm vexed as to why you entered contract with my son- he's not...the easiest person to get along with. And this is coming from the woman who gave birth to him.”

“I owed him,” was all she could reply with. She could feel Draco's intense gaze on them.

Narcissa looked befuddled for a moment, but she was sharp witted and quickly understood Hermione's reference, much as Harry had. “I'm sorry my dear. He is a Slytherin and a Malfoy on top of that.”

“I know,” Hermione said with a humorless laugh.

“The circumstances are not ideal,” Narcissa said. “And we won't have much time to be together.”

“What do you mean? We'll both be living in the Manor.”

“No,” the older witch explained. “Once the heir is married, the parents retire to another Malfoy estate not far from here. Once you are married, you will be here. Alone. With Draco.”

A dark foreboding feeling suddenly filled Hermione's gut. She had been counting on the elder Malfoys' presence as a calming force to Draco's volatile temperament. But if they were gone, she would literally be in the dragon's lair alone.

“Please,” she said desperately. “Can't you convince Draco otherwise?”

Narcissa shook her head. “I'm sorry. It's family tradition. Lucius isn't too keen on leaving the manor either but is adamant about retiring to the other estate.”

“Do you have any idea why he decided to buy my contract?” Hermione pressed.

“No, he doesn't share things like that with me. That's more his father's specialty. There could be many my dear. To help lift our family name after the war. To use your status to help with the business aspects of his job. To form alliances with key people in the ministry. All of those are possibilities Hermione.”

Seeing the younger woman's dejected look, Narcissa quickly added, “I will see if I can get anything out of Lucius. He's rather easy to ween information from when the setting is right.”

Hermione had a feeling she knew exactly what “setting” Narcissa was talking about as she watched her blue eyes slide over her husband's form appreciatively. “Thank you,” she said, ignoring the sexual innuendo.

“Having a pleasant conversation?” came Draco's voice from behind them, startling both of the witches.

His eyes were narrowed again, sliding back and forth from the guilty looks on his mother and his fiancee's faces.

“Yes,” Narcissa answered, quickly composing herself into the image of Malfoy perfection. “Just discussing some details about the wedding. Nothing you need to worry your head about.”

“I'm afraid we're going to retire,” Draco said coldly after a moment. He expectantly held out his hand for Hermione to take.

Seeing the stricken look on the young witch's face, Narcissa complained, “You've barely been here for an hour Draco! Its not proper decorum to leave so early.”

“I could care less,” he responded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The party was wonderful while it lasted. Now I would like to retire with my fiancee.”

Hermione hesitated before reluctantly taking Draco's hand who immediately pulled her against his hard body. “Say goodnight to mother,” he purred into her ear., fingers dancing along her shoulders.

“Goodnight Narcissa,” she barely managed to whisper before she was whisked away by Draco.

They left, virtually unnoticed as an announcement for a speech made by the Minister of Magic resonated throughout the ballroom. She looked at the party longingly before the heavy wood doors shut, blocking out her only respite from the man on her arm.

Draco decided to bring her back to her own rooms to quell the nervousness he could feel coursing through her body. She let out a sight of relief when she realized that perhaps Draco wouldn't exact punishment of any kind as she saw her door come into view. That relief fled however, when he followed her inside.

Containing her trembling, Hermione began to unpin her mass of curls from the bun, sitting down in front of her desk where a mirror and a small bowl to hold the pins had appeared. She could see Draco, leaned against a post of her bed, arms folded across his broad chest as he stared at her.

“You purposefully defied my wishes tonight,” he said in that low, smooth voice.

“They were in direct contrast to my own,” Hermione responded calmly. Though she didn't sound as brave as she wanted to.

He smirked at her answer, slowly stalking over to her seated body. She could see his eyes glinting at her in the mirror, hungry and predatory. He stopped behind her chair and hesitated before laying his palms on her bare skin, soothing them back and forth over her shoulders.

“I know what you were thinking about,” he said in his deep voice that sent thrills through Hermione's body. “Were you thinking about all the times I had you? All the times I made you moan my name?”

“Momentary lapses in judgement,” she snapped.

He raised an eyebrow. “Ones I'm sure you'd love to revisit.”

Hermione was silent. She didn't like Malfoy. She was on the brink of loathing him. But there was no denying their encounters together. They made her feel alive, in the middle of a war where they didn't know if they'd survive to see the end of the week. They poured out all of their pain and frustration on each other, culminating in explosive experiences that were...unforgettable. It happened quite often among Order members during the war, with some unexpected couplings as a result. But no one had ever suspected the two of them.

Even though she wanted to, Hermione could never forget her first time with him, against the wall in the training room.

“I know you fancied yourself falling in love with Weasley,” Draco said in a silken, rich tone of voice. “It was easy to see, even from afar. But I have you now Granger. And for the year I have you, I'm going to make you remember every moment you spent gasping my name, every scratch you clawed onto my back. That is a promise.”

She shook her head sadly. “All of this. To relive some moments. Get a pensieve Malfoy. You ruined my life for your own selfish desires.”

He laughed, a deep sound that Hermione could feel reverberate in her body. “I'd beg to differ darling. I could have done much, much worse if I wanted. With that life debt, if I was so inclined, I could've made you a slave to my desires for the next five years. Or perhaps the next ten. This is only a year Granger. One year during which I can please you in that way that no one else will ever be able to.”

He moved closer, leaning to press his chest against her bare back, burying his face into her riotous curls that were now loose. She was trembling now. “Let me do this Granger. You are the one conquest I've been dying to relive all of these years. And after this one year, if Weasley isn't still missing, you can return to him and bear him eight children by the time you're thirty. Wear an apron as you bake pie after pie, chasing after ginger haired snots obsessed with Quidditch and food.”

His words lit a long extinguished fire in the pit of her belly that made her quiver in remembrance of Malfoy's deft exploitation of her body.

Though she'd rather not be in the situation at all...there was no getting out of it now. The life debt was only breakable by death and she had no designs on killing herself. She knew she had no choice but to submit to his wills. But the Gryffindor in her told her to resist- to make Draco's game more difficult for him to play.

“No,” she said defiantly, shifting away from him so his hands dropped away from her body.

“No,” he repeated tonelessly, straightening to his impressive height. “Granger, you don't have much of a choice.”

“What fun is it if I have no choice?” she said in a lilting, mocking voice. “Lowering yourself to force me into something you claim I will enjoy. If I desired it that badly, I'd let you do whatever it is that you want.”

He looked at her, his gaze hot and almost disconcerting. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Alright. If that's the game you want to play Granger. I'll make you want me. I've done it before.”

“I'm not the same as I was before,” she challenged indignantly.

“Neither am I,” he replied silkily.

She ignored his comment and became emboldened by her attainment of a little power in this contracted fiasco. This was better than her previous predicament- now she had some leverage and Malfoy's masculine pride in the equation. She could use both to her advantage to stave off any of Draco's advancements as long as she possibly could.

“Let the games begin,” she said softly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Good luck Malfoy. You're going to need it.

He smirked again, giving a one word response before he left her rooms.

“Indeed.”

__________________________________________________________

She found him in the kitchens

A bottle of Odgen's firewhiskey in one hand, a glass with ice in the other. He looked furious, vulnerable, dangerous, and fragile all at the same time. He didn't notice her entrance, didn't notice the soft padding of her slippers against the stone as she approached the table.

“Malfoy.”

His head lifted when she said his name, meeting her slightly concerned gaze that swept over his disheveled appearance. Hair mussed, stubble along his chin and cheeks, eyes bloodshot.

“Granger,” he said in a gravely voice as he poured himself another glass of firewhiskey.

Hermione sighed, biting her tongue. She wanted to scold him for drinking so much- though she had nothing against it and participated in it from time to time, there was only a little more than half the large bottle left. He drank way too much. But now wasn't the time.

“She's alright Malfoy.” She paused. “Her vocal chords are a little damaged but all that matters is that she's alive. I moved her down to the first level- she told me she wanted to be able to see the gardens.”

A visible sigh of relief left his body sagging in his chair. “Alright.”

“You can see her tomorrow,” Hermione told him. “But she needs as much rest as possible. As of right now, I need to give her a blood replenishing potion every three hours.”

“Did you just-”

“I just gave her one,” she finished. “She had fallen asleep when I left.”

A silence fell between them before she made a move to stand up. “I'll be going-”

“Sit,” he suddenly commanded.

Hermione shot him an incredulous look before rolling her eyes and obeying. “What now Malfoy?”

He cleared his throat to relieve the scratchiness of his voice, leaving it at his usual timbre. “Malfoys don't say thank you Granger. We never do-”

Hermione cut him off by placing a hand over his. “I didn't expect you to Malfoy. Its alright. I wanted to help. You don't owe me anything-”

She yelped when the hand she'd been touching shot out like a bullet before wrapping painfully in her hair. His lips crashed onto hers, his tongue sweeping her cavern, hot and hungry. He tasted like mint and firewhiskey and desperation as he wrestled with her to gain dominance.

Which she freely gave.

Caught up in a familiar routine, Hermione allowed her body to go lax, ignoring her sense of propriety as Draco used her hair for leverage to pull her onto the table. Vaguely, she heard the crash of the firewhiskey bottle against the floor and opened her mouth to complain about the loss of perfectly good liquor when he kissed her again, just to shut her up. He urged her body against the cold, polished wood as he straddled her, pressing his arousal against the softness of her belly.

“Granger,” he groaned against her lips. Her hands went from around his neck to fumble with the button and zipper of his pants which he quickly kicked off.

Without hesitation, he lifted the hem of her nightgown, pulling it over her body to leave her gloriously naked, her hair in wild curls about her head, her skin a soft pale peach against the darkness of the wood. Her chest was heaving, breasts moving tantalizingly. He bent back down to take her lips again.

She gasped when she felt the head of his organ press against the entrance of her wet swollen sex and moved her hips upwards to urge him inside. He complied and sunk into her, both shuddering and expelling a low, guttural groan as he filled her completely, reached all the places inside of her that ached to be touched.

Burying his face into her neck, he withdrew and pushed back in again, his balls slapping loudly against the very backs of her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He gave her slow, hard, penetrating thrusts that left her struggling for breath.

Draco whispered the dirtiest thing in her ear, things that she normally would wrinkle her nose at that had her gushing around him like a pipe had burst inside of her. He moaned as she experimentally tightened around his shaft, trapping him in her pulsing sleeve, before releasing him to pull out. Her body arched like a bow when he hit bottom again and again.

Grinning at her reaction, Draco angled his hips to aid in slamming his entire length to the hilt into her pulsing core. He reached down rubbing her clit in circles, building up that welcomed heat in her core that would wind and and wind until...

Hermione let out a long, hoarse scream, body tensing, muscles clamping down on Draco's member as she came, the pleasure washing over her like a tidal wave that pulled her out to sea, leaving her breathless and floating and utterly satisfied.

Draco managed to pump into her a few more times, forcing his way through her flexing muscles that felt like a searing hot vice before stiffening and coming inside of her hard with a roar, experiencing an orgasm that left dots dancing behind his closed eyelids.

He fell on top of her and she welcomed the weight that would warm her own shivering body that began to cool from their ministrations. He peppered open mouthed kisses on the damp skin of her throat and breasts, his fine hair trailing in his wake.

His eyes traveled back up her body to her face- her own eyes were closed, red, swollen lips turned slightly up at the corners into a small smile.

“You're welcome Malfoy.”
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The Tyger and The Lamb