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Cast No Shadow	By : ColdWaterFairy Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 13632 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Miahdrake - Thank you so much for continuing to read and review. I do believe I'll dedicate the juicy chapter to you.
Hermione had just walked into her office when a piece of parchment appeared on her desk. She leaned over the desk to pick it up.

Meet me in my office now.

It didn't have to be signed for her to know who it was from. He thought he could just order her to appear like a lap-dog? She took a deep breath and reminded herself that he was her superior and yeah, he could just order her to appear like a lap-dog. She did not, however, have to like it, so she decided to take her sweet time. It had been two weeks since that night when she'd discovered who her boss was. She no longer kept late hours. Although she hadn't seen him since that night it didn't keep her from thinking about him—constantly. She had caught herself at least a half dozen times replaying that first meeting, remembering his toned chest and arms, his steely grey eyes and biting remarks. She chalked it up to the fact that she'd thought he was dead. It was a big shock to go around thinking someone is dead for seven years and then have them turn out not to be and, to top it off, to find out they were your boss.

As much as she actively loathed Malfoy, she'd let go of a lot the hate she'd carried around due to the war. She didn't want to end up one of the countless number of witches and wizards who had let their hate and grief eat them up until they were shells of their former selves. Anyway, she thought, active loathing was totally different from hate. She put her attaché case away and fiddled with things on her desk. Checked messages that had been left. Finally there was nothing else she could distract herself with, so she got up and walked towards "Number One's" office. She didn't like referring to him by his name. Only as boss, Number One, the Director, or possibly a nasty adjective. She was curious to know what he wanted from her. She was hoping, though she knew the chances were slim, he would tell her how he'd come to be in his present situation. Her curiosity was legend.

When she reached his door she gave one brisk knock. When she heard him say "Enter," she opened the door and walked in. He was sitting behind his desk with a scowl on his face.

"So glad you could join me. Don't know why I'm surprised you're late, you always were a self-serving bitch," he snarled. Hermione schooled her face to be perfectly blank. She wasn't going to give him the pleasure of goading her into a response. She took a seat in the chair in front of hi. and stared levelly back at him. Seeing that she wasn't going to respond, he tossed a folder in front of her.

"I've been working on an assignment and I've decided you'd make a perfect mole."

Hermione grabbed the folder in front of her and opened it. After a few minutes she looked up at him and said in all seriousness, "You've got to be kidding!"

Her mind was still flashing the words "sex slave" and "five dead Muggle women found so far, their bodies so badly beaten as to be unrecognizable". She was afraid she might faint. Draco just looked at her with those unfeeling grey eyes.

"No, I'm not, Ms. Granger. I've been working day and night for months trying to find who the leader of the ring is. The night you came upon me I'd finally found their headquarters."

He was loving every minute of her reaction. She'd actually looked like she was going to be sick for a second. Obviously she'd gone soft since the war, he thought gleefully. Before she had a chance to recover he hit her with his plan.

"I've devised a plan. I want to arrange for you to be kidnapped by this ring and sold off as a sex slave. That way we can find out who all the key players are as well as the buyers."

She now looked like she was going to cry. He was actually getting a bit of an erection. He mentally slapped himself, shoving all thoughts of her being raped from his mind.

"This is our best plan of action for getting everyone involved in one swoop. We don't want anyone getting away and starting another ring elsewhere, do we?" Hermione shook her head. She was breathing heavily now.

"I immediately thought of you for this assignment. Being a Muggle-born witch yourself, we wouldn't have to worry about finding someone to act like a Muggle." The way he emphasized the word "Muggle" made Hermione's blood boil. There was that condescending superior attitude of his. She was tempted to snap at him and ask why he was even bothering with this assignment since obviously he cared so little about what was happening to these women.

"Of course we would provide you with as much protection as possible, but it does have inherent risks." His voice was tinged with malice.

Draco looked at her, waiting for her to break down into tears and beg him not to make her do this. Then he would coldly look at her and tell her she must, it was part of her job. He waited in vain, though.

Hermione squared her shoulders and said, "I'll do it, but I want answers first."

Disappointment showed on his face before he schooled his features into a neutral mask. Oh, she knew what he wanted. Screw not hating anyone. She literally wanted to kill the insufferable bastard. She fought the urge to climb over that desk and claw his eyes out and then slowly choke the life out of him. Using magic would be too good for him.

He had not accounted for her Gryffindor spirit rushing to the forefront. Damn her for taking his pleasure away. He hoped she would choke on her courage and come crawling to him on her hands and knees, begging to let her return to her old life.

He smiled benignly at her. "What kind of answers do you want, Ms. Granger?"

She looked him straight in the eye and said, "I want to know why the Ministry told everyone you were dead, how you got this job, and I want to know every detail of your plan. I also expect you to work with me to change anything I think is too dangerous or unnecessary. Oh, and one more thing." She leaned in close, her voice dropping low. "If you screw me over and get me killed, know it's the last thing you'll ever do. Harry will hunt you down like the bastard child you know you are and bleed you dry."

He just smirked at her. "Potter will never know what you're doing, much less who's responsible." Even though he acted unaffected by her words, he know without a doubt that if Hermione did die Harry would spend his last breath hunting down everyone responsible. "It's a good thing it's in my best interest to keep you alive. It wouldn't reflect well on me if you were killed. It would make me look like I can't do my job."

Hermione was about to snap. Malfoy made her want to rip out her hair and check herself into St. Mungo's mental ward. The man was obviously incapable of being, on any level, a decent human being. She could only hope she lived to rub his face in her victory. She smiled at the thought. She abruptly stood up, grabbed the folder from his desk, and started for the door. As her hand started to turn the knob his voice stopped her.

"Meet me at 74 Raven's Wood Road tonight at eight o'clock—and dress nicely. If I have to endure your company, the least you can do is make it less hard to look at you. Although I'm not sure that's possible."

She didn't even reply, just opened the door and walked out, resisting the overwhelming urge to slam the door behind her.

When she got back to her office and shut the door, her knees nearly gave out. What had she just agreed to? How was she going to explain this to Harry? All she knew was that looking at Malfoy's face and knowing he wanted her to break and beg him not to send her made her feel like she'd rather walk through fire than give him that satisfaction. She was a Gryffindor, for goodness' sake. There was no way she was going to bow down and submit to a Slytherin without a fight.

Glancing at the clock, she remembered the meeting she had to go to. She steeled her nerves and grabbed her cloak. She would not allow that bastard to interfere with her work.
At eight o'clock sharp Hermione was standing on the step of 74 Raven's Wood Road. She shivered in her cloak. Pushing the hood back, she reached out her hand to knock; but before she could, the door opened. Draco stood there with a drink in his hand. He stepped back from the door to let her in and she brushed past him. When she got a whiff of him, she thought he smelled like power. She shivered again. She unhooked her cloak and threw it over her arm, then turned to face him. His eyes blatantly assessed her outfit.

"I supposed that's the best you could do," he sneered. She let him sneer and make his biting remarks. She knew she looked good. Harry's eyes had all but bugged out of their sockets when he'd seen her. He hadn't wanted to let her go. Lust was very evident in his eyes and she had felt his arousal when they had kissed goodbye. His hands had drifted down to grab her derriére and press her against his erection. She felt terrible lying to him about where she was going, but he hadn't pressed her for details.

She had twisted her hair up into a clip but had left some strands down. She had chosen a cocktail dress of cream-colored satin with black straps that hugged her chest and fell to right above her knees. She had matched the dress with three-inch heels. She was about eye level with Malfoy now. She saw something flash in his eyes before they returned to their naturally unreadable nature. Hermione shook herself mentally. There was no way Draco Malfoy desired her. He couldn't stand the sight of her, she knew it. Looking at him, she noticed his gaze lingering on her breasts.

When he realized that she knew where his gaze had been, he said, "Put a hood over your head and I might be able stomach you sexually."

Handing him her cloak, she replied, "Too bad there's nothing that can done so I can stomach you sexually."

His back was to her as he hung up her cloak, so she didn't see his smile. He turned around and led the way into a dining room. He was a step ahead of her so she had a chance to assess him without him seeing. He was wearing charcoal grey slacks with a perfectly pressed black dress shirt and loafers. Still fastidious about his appearance, she thought. His hair looked like silk and she wondered if it felt like it looked. There was a stirring in her stomach. She quickly changed her train of thought. When had he started having any affect on her other than sheer loathing?

She took a quick glance around. The house was not opulent, but neither was it understated. It was obvious that a man of means and power lived here. She had figured that this was his house when he'd given her the address. From the outside his house was an average two-story brick house with black shutters. He lived in a very middle class neighborhood. She'd been surprised; she figured that with his money he would live in a mansion akin to his childhood home. Then again, for a man who was supposed to be dead, that would probably draw a little too much attention. For the first time she wondered if it was hard for him, not being able to live openly. Having to pretend you were dead couldn't be easy. I wonder if he has a fake identity, she thought. Or does he just not exist any more? She felt a pang of sympathy for him but quickly pushed it aside, remembering his cold and menacing manner early that day. He didn't deserve any kind thoughts.

She was dragged back to the present when they reached the dining room. Draco pulled out a chair for her, and she threw him a startled glance. Realizing what he had done, he abruptly went over to his own chair on the other side of the table. Hermione sat down, and immediately a glass of champagne appeared at her right hand. She took a small sip and looked at Draco. It was at that moment that it hit her that she was alone with Draco Malfoy, in his house. It was all too surreal.

His voice carried from down the table. "Starting to question the saneness of coming here, are we?" His voice held humor. It grated on her nerves.

"You can't honestly tell me this isn't a little surreal to you too. Come now, you and I having dinner in your home?"

He shrugged carelessly as if it was no strange occurrence. He looked at her and slyly asked, "Where did you tell Potter you were going tonight all dressed up?"

She automatically stiffened. She didn't want to discuss Harry with him. "None of your business." He laughed.

It was then that a house-elf appeared carrying two plates. He placed one in front of Hermione and then walked down the table to Draco. She looked at the food and her stomach growled. She had foregone lunch today, not wanting to be grilled by Helen. She hoped Draco couldn't hear her stomach. She looked up at him. He was already cutting his food. She started to ask him a question but he cut her off with, "I would like to enjoy my food, Granger. Life holds few pleasures for me any more. Don't ruin this one." She quietly seethed. Twat.

She cut her food and put it in her month mechanically. She hated the silence but Draco didn't seem to mind. She used the time to organize her thoughts. She was certain that he'd invited her tonight to tell her the details of his plan. She also hoped he would tell her about his past. He probably wouldn't, though, just because she wanted to know. She ate half the food on her plate before pushing it away. She was suddenly not as hungry as she'd been ten minutes ago. She stared at Draco while he ate. She knew it was rude but she didn't care.

"See something you like?" he asked.

She snorted. "Just picturing your head on a spike."

He looked up from his plate. "My my, how bloodthirsty you are. You almost sound Slytherin."

Before she could reply, he stood up and wiped his mouth. "Shall we adjourn to the library?" Without waiting for her to respond, he started to walk out of the room, taking for granted that she would follow him. Like a fucking lap-dog, she thought once again, walking a step behind him.

His library was breathtaking. Hermione had never seen a private collection like this before. The room was circular and at least ten feet high. All around her were books, from the floor to the ceiling. She didn't realize she'd gasped; she began to walking forward, reaching out to touch the books. The feel, the smell—it was like heaven. She knew few people who loved books as much as she did; obviously Draco Malfoy was one of them. She turned her head to look at him. He was watching her reaction, drinking it in, his eyes hooded. She wasn't sure what to say. She would never have guessed in a million years that he would have a room as beautiful as this. There was a large marble fireplace, a mahogany desk, and plush armchairs. She walked over to one and sat down. She didn't like knowing this about him. It made him more human, something she just couldn't accept.

He took the chair next to hers and they both sat staring at the fire. Draco finally broke the silence. "So you want to know how I came be dead and yet not?" It was said softly. Hermione looked at him and he continued to gaze into the fire. She waited for him to continue, knowing he would.

He sighed and leaned back into the chair. "Do you know you'll be the first person I've told this story to?" She still didn't reply; she didn't think he expected her to.

"The story of my death was partially true. We were doing reconnaissance on a house when we were ambushed by a group of Aurors. Everything happened so fast. Pansy died instantly. She'd been standing right next to me. I ducked behind a tree. Aurors were shouting curses left and right. Somehow one managed to creep up on my right side. I didn't even notice him. Next thing I knew I was on the ground, bleeding to death. I couldn't help thinking, 'This isn't how I'm supposed to die.' If I was going to die it was suppose to be during some grand battle, not a stupid fucking reconnaissance outing. I knew I was fading fast. Then someone grabbed me and hauled me up. That's all I remember."

Drawing in a breath, he continued. "Next thing I knew, I awoke in a cell. I have no idea how long I was there before I was visited by the Minister of Magic himself. It seems they knew Voldemort had named me his heir in the event of his death. They offered me a deal. Give up the Dark Lord and they would spare my life and give me a powerful position within the Ministry. I told them to go bugger themselves; I wasn't stupid, I said. The minute I told them anything the Dark Lord would kill me, and it wouldn't be pleasant.

"But the Minister told me they'd already made it look like I was dead. They'd burned the bodies of the other Death Eaters so that when they placed a charred corpse to represent me it wouldn't seem weird that mine was the only body that was burned. 'Everyone thinks you're dead,' he told me. 'What have you got to lose?' I could help them and I could live, have power. The only drawback was that I would never be able to return to my life as Draco Malfoy, that I would forever have to be dead to the world. He left me to think over my decision.

"I knew that if I didn't talk they would kill me, probably even torture me. I was young, but I wasn't stupid. If they knew about my being made heir then they were one step ahead of the Dark Lord. I was only a Death Eater because of my family. It was expected of me. That, and I liked the power. I decided to take the deal; my will to live superseded any loyalty I had. I handed over the Dark Lord on a platter. They kept their word and let me go."

The whole time he was telling the story of his "death" his voice was a monotone, but soft. Hermione found herself lulled by the sound of it, even though what he was saying was awful. He shifted in the chair and finally looked at her. She said nothing, waiting for him to continue and answer her other question.

"As for how I came by the position I have now, I worked for it. I worked training Aurors in the Dark Arts. Yes, Granger, your side didn't fight fair. After Voldemort died I did reconnaissance for the Auror Department, setting up plans of attack for them. Then one day the Minister told me he wanted to create an offshoot of the department, a division that investigated Dark magic activities, to ensure that another Voldemort could never happen. 'Preventive measures,' he said. We would be the brain and the Aurors would be the brawn. Of course I said yes. I'd never had such freedom, such power, before. I actually have people who answer to me. I report directly to the Minister and no one else. How could I pass up such a chance?"

He turned to Hermione again, looking intently at her. "So have I answered your questions to your liking?"

Hermione nodded. She was feeling lethargic. The chair was so comfortable; the urge to close her eyes was almost overwhelming. Suddenly the clock chimed half past eleven and Hermione shot up.

"I need to be going. I don't want Harry to worry." At the mention of Harry's name Draco sneered.

Yes, he thought, trot home to Potter. Spread your legs for him.

For a while he'd been able to forget who she was. It was just nice to talk. It had been so long since he'd talked to anyone about anything other than business. He smiled now, knowing that their time was limited. He needed to get her into play, the sooner the better. She had no idea what was in store for her, but he did. Just the thought of it made him breathless. By the time she was done with this mission she'd be too broken for Potter; he'd make sure of it. Their love—he had to hold back a gag as he dwelled on it—would be as dead as her spirit.

He escorted her to the entryway. Taking her cloak from the closet, he held it out in a way that let her know he planned to put it on her. She frowned but turned her back to him. He slipped the cloak over her shoulders. From his viewpoint he could see down her dress. Her breasts were white and creamy looking. He wondered, if he cupped them right now, whether her nipples would instantly harden under his touch. They probably would. Granger was a slut, whether she realized it or not. An image of her tied to his bed rose in his mind. She was begging him to punish her. By this time she had stepped away from him and turned around. She was looking at him. He opened his front door for her.

"Good night," she said. He only smiled his secret smile. Hermione couldn't wait to get out of the house. That smile and the look in his eyes had scared her deeply.
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Cast No Shadow