Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Reluctant Promises	By : penny1200 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 11793 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything else recognizable nor make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The Harry Potter series is owned by J.K. Rowling and I'm not her. Everything else recognizable is owned by their respective companies.

A/N: Again, I know that it's taken long for me to post this newest chapter. Part of the reason this took so long is that I was working on my original novel. I'm thrilled to say that I finished it and my very tiny test audience loved the story and can't wait for the next book in the series. However, I'm taking a break from my original stuff to work on my fanfiction. I owe it to everyone who has read my stories and put up patiently with delays and how cruel I tend to be to my characters. Oh, another reminder that I'm American; I'm trying my best with the Britisms, but I'm not British so I'll probably miss some. Please read and review! Thanks!

"I want it to look just like it did last night," Draco instructed, waving his hand dismissively at the entirely too red surroundings.
The little house-elf dipped into a bow, its large ears bobbing as it straightened back up.
"Right away, Master Malfoy. Flopsey will fix the house," it squeaked.
Yawning, Draco left the little elf in the kitchen to do his bidding and wandered into the bathroom to prepare for bed. While he showered, he thought, with some amusement, about the reactions he expected from Granger when she showed up the next day. Yeah, he knew that she'd set the place back to its default Gryffindor nightmare tomorrow, but her response would be worth it. Besides, it's not like he was the one who had to put in the effort to change the house around either tonight or when Granger ruined it again tomorrow.
Lulled by the steaming water, Draco's fantasies had just taken a decidedly dirty turn (the blondes he'd dreamed about last night had made a reappearance) when he was startled by a thump in the other room. His hands paused in his hair as shouts floated into the bathroom.
"Shit!" he exclaimed as the shampoo ran down into his eyes and stung like hell.
When another thud sounded from the other room followed by yet another shout, he ducked his head under the spray to get the majority of the suds off his head and hopped out of the shower. Internally cursing that he was wandless, he hurried into the bedroom and snatched his mobile from the nightstand. Even as he hurriedly searched for Granger's number in his phone (what the hell was he supposed to push again?), he ran into the other room to put a stop to the break-in. If something happened to Flopsey, he'd have hell to pay.
Upon entering the kitchen, he got a glimpse of brown hair and wide brown eyes before he was flying through the air and tackling the intruder. The person under him let out a whoosh of air but didn't struggle. As he registered that odd response, another sound filled the silence that had fallen in the room. A very familiar song that he identified with a certain brunette.
Granger. He had tackled Granger.
"Malfoy, what are you doing?"
As Granger's warm breath stirred over his neck, Draco became completely aware that he had her under him. He also now had the answer to his earlier idle curiosity. Yes, Granger definitely had curves under her jumper. He could feel the rather generous globes pressed to his chest and they were stirring up lower parts of his anatomy -- parts that shouldn't be responding to the know-it-all Mudblood.
"Get off of me," Granger snapped.
The harsh tone of the command killed the bloodflow below his waist and he got to his feet leisurely.
"What are you doing here, Granger? Miss me?"
She snorted inelegantly and rolled her eyes at him. He nearly laughed at how she still managed to look scornful and composed even from the flat of her back. When the sight of her dark curls spread out around her began to stir his imagination, he had to look away. Instead he focused on her voice since that was sure to kill any fantasies before they could take root.
"Hardly," she scoffed, climbing to her feet.
At her movement, he glanced back over at her. She brushed her backside off and straightened her purple jumper with a frown, speaking as she did so.
"I recieved a report that elf magic was being used here, so I...oh, Merlin!"
Granger had finally focused on him and just as quickly turned her face away, cheeks a bright red.
"What's wrong with you, Granger?" he asked, amused at her coloring but also thorougly confused.
"Don't you ever wear clothing?" she choked out, her voice croaky.
Startled, Malfoy glanced down at himself to find that he was completely nude. Oh, shit. In his hurry to deal with the intruder, he'd skipped the whole getting dressed step.
"Clothing, now, Malfoy," Granger demanded, still sounding as if she'd swallowed a frog.
Normally Malfoy wouldn't get dressed simply because it was Granger telling him to. However, he'd already dealt with a very physical reaction to her and was damn lucky she hadn't noticed. The last bloody thing he needed was Granger to see that and misconstrue it as attraction to her. Because he sure as hell wasn't turned on by a Mudblood. So, heaving an annoyed sigh (couldn't make it easy on her), he left the kitchen for the bedroom and pulled on a pair of pajama pants.
When he exited the bedroom, he found Granger standing in front of the bookcase in the living room, surveying the titles.
"Did you know you have the whole collection of Grimm fairytales?" she asked excitedly, pulling a thick tome off the shelf.
He quirked an eyebrow at her back. Surely she hadn't shown up in the middle of the night to read his books?
"What are you doing breaking into my place at midnight, Granger?"
Sliding the book into place, she faced him. Her cheeks had faded to a light pink and her eyes were shining with excitement from finding the book. As her gaze focused on him though, that excitement morphed into fury.
"I didn't break in, and believe me when I say that I'd rather be home right now. But you just had to break the rules. Who does she belong to?" Granger questioned, gesturing to Flopsey, a disgusted look on her face. The house-elf was standing next to the couch looking uncomfortable.
Draco tightened his lips. No way was he going to give her any information.
Her eyes narrowed. "Fine. If you want to make things difficult."
He watched with annoyance as she bestowed a gentle expression on the elf unlike anything he'd ever been on the recieving end of.
"What's your name?" she asked in a soft tone.
"Flopsey, miss," the house-elf responded hesitantly.
"And can you take me to your master, Flopsey?"
The house-elf cast Draco a questioning look. She was under orders to follow his instructions, and he knew that she needed his permission to take Granger to her master's home. He wanted to deny her, but even he could tell that he was pushing Granger's last nerve from the heat in her eyes. He nodded to the elf.
"You may as well take her, Flopsey," he decided, with a bored shrug. "I won't get any sleep until she goes away."
Eyes still narrowed, Granger pulled her wand and took hold of the tiny creature's arm, and the two of them disappeared with a pop.
ooooo
Malfoy had been on top of her naked!
While he got dressed, she freaked out over the unwanted contact that she'd just had with him. Malfoy! Naked! She took a moment to relish the image that thinking about him pulled up and immediately felt guilty. Okay, so he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, but still! It was just wrong that he had touched her in that state. This was not a story that she was going to share with Ron. He'd probably Apparate right over here to curse the guy, and she had a feeling that Malfoy had forgotten that he was naked. If only she could forget so easily.
Hermione was glad when their interactions slid back into their normal antagonistic standards. By the time she took Flopsey's arm, she was sufficiently angry with Malfoy to remember why his looks were usually a source of annoyance. They caused his arrogance.
The house-elf Apparated them into a dark room. She could see a single person, probably a man, in the room, outlined by the fire he was facing. Her appearance with Flopsey was so sudden that she was able to disarm the stranger before he could defend himself.
"What the hell?!" he shouted as his wand flew into the air and clattered to the ground several feet away.
"Don't move!" she called when he made to face her.
Holding her wand on him, she approached. Once he was in reach, she grabbed his arm tightly and Apparated back to Malfoy's.
Upon arriving, she dropped his arm and stepped back. The instant she was free of him, he turned around.
"What the hell are you doing here, Granger?!"
Hermione groaned. She really should have known.
"Zabini," she acknowledged. "I could ask you the same question."
"I'm here because you dragged me here."
The combination of Blaise's response and Malfoy's laughter at it was enough to make Hermione grit her teeth.
"Sit down, Zabini," she directed, pointing at the couch.
Her tone must have been frightening because his eyes widened and he sat down. The room was quiet except for Malfoy's chuckling. Hermione barely refrained from rolling her eyes.
"Shut up and sit down, Malfoy," she snapped without taking her eyes off Blaise.
Once the two men were sitting on the couch facing her, Hermione began to pace in front of the coffee table. Where to even start?
"What am I going to do with you two? Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?" she questioned. "For starters, we've got violating the terms of Malfoy's sentencing. Then there's illegal magic usage..."
"What?!" Malfoy burst out. "I haven't used magic."
"Crap," Blaise muttered.
Hermione nodded at Blaise. Despite his preference for Voldemort's policy, he hadn't joined up with the madman nor participated in the final battle, so he had never been removed from wizarding society. Instead, he had gone into training to become a criminal defense barrister. He would be well aware of the changes in the laws governing house-elf magic.
Malfoy looked over at Blaise in confusion. "What's she talking about?"
The dark wizard shook his head. "You wouldn't know, but the laws about house-elf magic have changed. Their masters are now held responsible for any magic they use while carrying out a command given to them."
"So you're in trouble then," Malfoy stated.
"You're both in trouble," Hermione corrected. When Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off. "Blaise sent the elf here, so that makes him responsible for the illegal Apparation, but you were the one instructing her on how to use her magic once present." Hermione scowled. "It'd take me hours to even count how many infractions occurred under your direction."
The air was thick with silence as the implications of the accusations sank in. By the time Hermione spoke again, she could see on their faces that they understood just how much trouble they were in.
"So, the question remains. What should I do with the two of you?"
They seemed to be at a loss, so Hermione sighed.
"Okay. An easier question: how did you even know when to send Flopsey over, Zabini?"
She waited patiently as he dug around in his pocket. When he pulled out a handful of galleons, she groaned yet again. She should have known. She held out a hand and he dropped one of the shiny pieces of gold into it.
"Will this spell never cease haunting me?" she muttered under her breath as she stared at the galleon. Louder, she stated, "Give me yours, Malfoy."
"Why should I?" he asked belligerently.
"Because I'm ordering you to. That is a magical item, and you know that you aren't allowed to have magical artifacts for the next year."
Glaring at her, Malfoy handed over the galleon in his pocket.
Running a finger around the ribbed edge of the gold piece, Hermione considered her options. The most obvious one was reporting Malfoy and Blaise to the Aurors. They would both be arrested. Malfoy would be sent to Azkaban for a few months for breaking the rules of his punishment and Blaise would likely face a hefty fine or even a month or two in Azkaban himself. The option was tempting; Malfoy would be out of her hair and she'd be able to move on with her life. Harry could just assign someone else to him when he was released to complete his Muggle year afterward.
She sighed. If she took that option, she would disappoint Harry. He was counting on her to reform Malfoy, and sending him back to Azkaban wouldn't accomplish that. She considered her other options. When a particularly attractive one struck her on what to do with Blaise, she bit back a grin.
"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to give each of you a choice, and once you pick your one, you have to deal with the consequences. No going back if you decide you don't like the results."
"Okay," Blaise said easily as Malfoy continued to glare at her.
"Malfoy, I would be happy to send you back to Azkaban, but you would still have to complete your Muggle year once you were released. I wouldn't supervise you; I imagine Harry would take over just to ensure that your training was done correctly this time. On the other hand, I'm willing to give you a third chance, but know that if you screw up again, I will send you to Azkaban and let someone else deal with you," she addressed the blond sharply.
"That's like a choice between two evils," he protested.
Hermione shrugged. "Then it should be easy for you. You spent years surrounded by evil."
While Malfoy fumed, Hermione turned her attention to Blaise.
"Your choices are a little better. By all rights, you should stand trial for your crime, but I'm giving you an option that will allow you to avoid that. If you wish, you can take a few Muggle courses with a reliable instructor of my choice. A little healthy respect for Muggles and their lifestyle wouldn't be such a bad thing."
Blaise wrinkled his nose, confirming Hermione's belief that he wouldn't find the option appealing. She was also sure that he would take it because his future career as a barrister would depend on integrity, and having an arrest on his record would make that considerably more difficult.
"I'll take the Muggle courses," Blaise finally agreed, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. "A basic knowledge of Muggles might be a good thing; it might help me get someone off who's accused of a crime against them. Can I go now? I have an eight o'clock class."
"Go ahead. I'll be in contact with you to arrange the courses. And, Blaise, if you want to talk to Malfoy in the future, use legal channels to do so," she added.
Giving a final nod, Blaise Apparated away with a pop. Hermione really hoped he wouldn't punish Flopsey for the night's events. Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned her attention back to Malfoy.
"Oh, stop sulking, Malfoy. I've given you the perfect way to get rid of me."
"I bet you'd like that," he grumbled. "Just pushing me off on someone else to deal with."
Hermione smiled innocently. "I'd have peace and quiet in my life again -- no dealing with a bratty wizard who has no interest in actually learning what I have to teach. No more listening to your constant complaining."
Malfoy was glaring at her, his cheeks slightly pink. Hermione could tell that her words bothered him.
"I don't want to go back to Azkaban," he finally mumbled reluctantly before smirking. "I'd much rather make your life miserable."
Hermione bit her lip in amusement. She had known that would be his choice; he was so predictable.
"Good boy," she praised him perkily, glad that he didn't have a wand on him when he scowled at her. "I'm going home now; I'll put the house back to rights later this morning. Remember, be up and ready by ten. I'm teaching you how to clean."
As she Apparated away, Hermione was strangely glad that Malfoy had chosen to continue with his lessons.
She may not like him, but at least he was never boring.
ooooo
Hermione dropped by Harry's office at eight the next morning to summarize the events of the previous night (or was it early that morning?). He had been suitably impressed with her for taking advantage of Blaise's situation to coerce him into Muggle courses. She made the meeting quick because she was meeting the girls for their normal Wednesday morning breakfast.
"Sorry, I'm late!" she panted as she dropped into her usual seat at their normal table in Magic Scones, a tiny diner in Diagon Alley.
"It's okay, Hermione. The Mylicids are very active right now," Luna reassured her.
Hermione frowned. That was a new creature.
Ginny gave Luna a confused look, but said, "We ordered you some orange juice."
"What exactly is a Mylicid?" Pansy Parkinson questioned curiously.
Hermione sighed. Pansy always just had to ask about the creatures.
If someone had told Hermione two years ago that Pansy Parkinson would be among her best friends, she would have been quite sure they'd spent too much time on the wrong end of the Cruciatus. The girl had been a pain to her on par with Malfoy himself while they were at school. There's no way she ever could have forseen a set of circumstances where she'd actually like the other woman.
Of course, it was amazing what losing one's fortune, reputation, and, consequently, friends could do for a person's attitude.
Pansy's parents had supported Voldemort fully. In fact, their support was so strong that they had invested their entire family fortune in the prison (or, more accurately, torture and death) camps that he had been setting up throughout the world during the Second War for use when he won. The wizarding world had been appalled when Severus Snape's journal had revealed that information. Muggleborns were horrified because they knew about World War II and that Voldemort's plan with the camps was modeled after the death camps from that period.
Needless to say, although there was no law against it, the families who were recorded as investors in the camps (Snape kept impeccable records) lost any respect that they might have maintained after the Second War by not joining the Death Eaters. Additionally, they lost any money they had invested. For some, like the Parkinsons, this meant complete destitution. In fact, Pansy's family had fled to Brazil to escape the media's persecution and society's judgment. Surprisingly, the Malfoys had not been listed in Snape's records -- Hermione contributed that to Lucius's tendency to hedge his bets in case the opposing side won. In this case, that had been an intelligent move.
A year ago, Hermione had popped into the newly opened Magic Scones for a scone (what else?) and a cup of coffee. She had been shocked to find Pansy waiting tables in the small cafe.
As Hermione waited impatiently at the counter for her strawberry scone (and Ginny better be right about them being the best ever given how long she'd already waited), she scanned the room. The cafe was pretty popular given the crowd packed into the tiny room. She was happy to find that the cafe was decorated in a homey manner yet without all of the lace and frills that Madame Pudifoot employed in her decoration. The room was actually very much her taste.
As she watched the crowd, a familiar figure caught her eye at a nearby table. She was surprised when she recognized Pansy Parkinson. She thought the Parkinsons had left the country in the fallout of the prison camp scandal.
Hermione took advantage of the crowd to study the other woman. She looked utterly defeated. She smiled at the customer that she was serving, but it didn't reach her eyes. When Pansy started back toward the front, Hermione was horrified to see one of the customers stick her leg out and purposely trip Pansy, knocking her tray to the floor. Hermione got angry when the woman then called her a Death Eater whore. Whatever Pansy had done to Hermione in the past, that was going too far. Honestly, it was no different from calling a Muggleborn a Mudblood.
Moving forward, Hermione picked up Pansy's tray while the other woman regained her footing and straightened up, brushing strands of black hair out of her eyes. When Hermione handed it over, Pansy's expression was completely blank. Only her eyes betrayed her pain over the customer's treatment.
"Thanks," she muttered before walking away.
Hermione followed her through the front door to the tables outside. Pansy stopped near one of the empty tables. Only one person was sitting outside in the chilly late September air.
"What do you want, Granger?" she asked, her voice a monotone.
"It's just...what are you doing back in Britain?"
Apparently that was the wrong question because Pansy immediately stiffened.
"Why? Is it a crime for me to be here now? My family wasn't expelled from the country, you know. I'm allowed to return if I want," she stated defensively, arms crossed protectively over her chest.
Hermione was shocked. It was perhaps the first time that she had seen something other than fear or malicious joy in another's pain from Pansy.
"Of course it's okay for you to return; I just don't understand why you would put yourself through people treating you like that."
Even as Hermione gestured at the door to the cafe, she questioned her own motives. She and Pansy had nothing positive in their history together, so there was absolutely no reason why she should care what Pansy was going through. Scowling, she decided to blame Harry. Clearly his saving people thing had rubbed off on her because heaven knew that she didn't have any of those tendencies on her own (her subconscious supplied Ron mumbling 'house-elves' even as she blamed Harry).
Pansy's eyes softened slightly as she realized that Hermione wasn't trying to be mean.
"I was homesick," she admitted quietly.
From that point on, Hermione made an effort to get to know Pansy better. She had fully expected that the other woman would rebuke her attempts to be friendly, but had quickly learned that Pansy led a very lonely life. The public was holding her responsible for what her parents had done, to the point that her boss at the diner wouldn't let her use her wand like the rest of the staff, which was why she had to use a very Muggle tray. Additionally, all of her friends from school had ditched her because they either didn't want to have their names contaminated by association or because Pansy was now a working-class witch. The circumstances meant that Pansy was open to friendships she wouldn't have been previously.
Several months later, once Hermione knew her well enough to count her as a friend, she had brought Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Luna around the cafe to meet her. Luckily, they tended to trust Hermione's judgment, so they were willing to keep an open mind. Luna had spent approximately five minutes with Pansy and declared that she was a good person in that weird way she had. When it came out that Pansy was a Quidditch fan in general and a Harpies fan specifically, she had quickly won over Ginny. Ron hadn't taken much either; Hermione was very sure that Pansy's looks, quite pretty even with her pug-like nose, had been enough to earn his forgiveness. Harry was the final holdout, but even he had softened when Pansy expressed an interest in taking Muggle lessons. He and Luna, who had taken Muggle Studies in school and learned a lot from Harry, had worked with her during their free time, and the Slytherin was now firmly entrenched in their group.
"...moving the buildings into your path, so you're late," Luna was finishing as Hermione snapped out of her thoughts.
Apparently while she was drifting through her memories, Luna had explained about her creatures (what were they again? Mylids?). Given the extreme disbelief on both Ginny and Pansy's faces, it must have been an unusual explanation, even for Luna.
"Oookay," Ginny muttered before turning to Hermione. "How's Malfoy-sitting going?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, let's see. He tried to smuggle a wand in his trunk. He's already shattered the restriction on magic use twice. He wasn't up and ready to go when I told him to be. He's rude, obnoxious, spoiled, and generally behaving like a complete brat." As she spoke, she ticked off the points on her fingers. "So, overall, it's going exactly how I expected it to."
Ginny nodded sympathetically. "I'm definitely not jealous of you. Malfoy's awful normally, so I can't imagine what he's like while he can't use magic."
"Wait," Pansy broke in. "If he doesn't have a wand, then how has he broken the magic restrictions? Malfoy's smart..." Ginny snorted, but Pansy ignored her. "...but wordless magic was never really his strength."
"Oh, he's had a little help with that," Hermione hedged. "Speaking of which..."
When Hermione turned her gaze on Ginny, the other girl's brown eyes widened and she began to vigorously shake her head.
"Oh, no. I am not helping you with anything to do with Malfoy," she protested.
"Don't worry," Hermione reassured her sweetly. "It has nothing to do with Malfoy."
Her tone clearly did nothing to allay Ginny's fears.
"Then what do you need?" she asked warily.
"I need someone who has the time and knowledge to give Muggle lessons to Blaise Zabini."
"Blaise?" Pansy questioned.
"Oh!" Luna exclaimed.
That was an odd response, so Hermione turned her attention to the blonde, only to find that she was humming under her breath and folding her napkin into a swan. Shrugging, Hermione focused on Ginny again. She looked appalled at the thought.
"I really don't want to."
"Please, Ginny. I need someone who I know will make sure he takes the lessons seriously," Hermione pleaded.
Pansy was watching the two of them with great interest; Luna was off in her own world.
"No," Ginny disagreed. "I'm sure you can find someone else. What about Ron?"
Hermione bit back a snort at the thought of her boyfriend teaching anyone anything about Muggles. She didn't want to badmouth her boyfriend in front of his sister. Luckily, Pansy had no such issue.
"Really? Have you ever seen him do anything the Muggle way if he could use magic?"
"He has the knowledge, though. I'm sure he could handle teaching someone else."
Pansy let out a dissenting noise and Hermione mumbled her disagreement quietly.
"I agree with Pansy," Luna piped up. "Ron always sends owls to Harry when Hermione's in the Muggle world."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Ginny inquired in bewilderment.
Hermione clarified, "He has Harry call me to pass along his messages instead of just calling me himself."
Ginny scowled. "That's not right."
"See why I need you to do this for me."
Ginny shook her head. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm not going to spend my free time dealing with a snotty Slytherin."
"Hey!" Pansy protested.
"Oh, not you," the readhead stated with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Any Slytherin but you."
Pansy looked slightly happier with that and fell into conversation with Luna about Lethifolds. Tilting her head, Hermione considered the Quidditch player across from her. She just needed the right tactic to make Ginny do what she wanted. When it hit her, she smiled.
"Ginny, I really don't want to do this, but remember how I portkeyed home from my vacation in the Bahamas the last time you broke up with Oliver? And you were so torn up that I stayed with you while Ron finished out our vacation alone? You said that you would pay me back for that. So, I'm calling in my favor," she asserted triumphantly.
Ginny gave an angry huff.
"Fine. But you don't play fair," she charged, pointing at Hermione accusingly.
Hermione grinned happily as the waitress appeared with their drinks. She did like winning.
ooooo
When Draco woke up, he realized that he was hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since the cheese and egg the previous night. He had intended to try a couple of the biscuits Granger had pointed out in celebration of his victory over her once Flopsey had completed the house. Granger had ruined that plan, and by the time she had left, he was tired enough to go to sleep.
Stomach growling, Draco climbed out of bed and pulled a pair of silk pajama pants over his boxers. If Granger showed up early, he didn't want to get caught undressed again.
Slamming one of his pans onto the stove and turning the heat up high, he mentally tore into Granger. She had to ruin all of his fun. Why couldn't he have gotten some clueless Auror? One of them probably wouldn't have found all of his magical items let alone figured out how he was making changes to the house. But no, he had to get stuck with the know-it-all.
As he broke the eggs in the pan, his temper began to build. She treated him like her slave, bossing him around and telling him what he could and couldn't do. He cracked the egg he was holding so hard that some of the shell landed in the pan. Cursing, he reached in to pull out the shell, only to curse again when he burned his hand.
He placed his hand under the cold water, washing the yolk down the sink. He'd be damned if he took Granger's stupid advice with the pickles while she wasn't here to force him. When he pulled it out of the water, he noticed that the burning hadn't diminished in the least. Cursing Granger, eggs, and pickles, he stormed to the fridge for the smelly slices.
He wasn't completely sure why he was so angry at Granger. Part of it was definitely the fact that she had cut off his last contact to the magical world when she took his galleon, and she was going to undo what Flopsey had managed to finish before she barged in. Of course, part of it was also simply because she was Granger.
Once the burning had stopped, he dropped the pickles in the trash in disgust and washed the juice off his hands, his thoughts still on his annoying guide. He was man enough to admit that a small part of his problem with her was the way that his looks didn't affect her at all. He had been on top of her while completely naked last night, and she hadn't cared. She hadn't even looked. Hell, he'd even been turned on by having her under him. Her impassive reaction to his obviously superior body just confirmed his opinion of her oddness. If she was a normal girl, she would have begged him to shag her the instant she saw his body.
He took a moment to consider that. Normally, the thought of shagging a Mudblood would disgust him, but he liked the idea of Granger begging for something only he could give her. He'd bet all the Malfoy gold in Gringotts that she'd never had mind-blowing sex if her only experience was with the Weasel (and there wasn't a doubt in his mind that it was -- she was too much of a prude to have slept with anyone else). Showing up Weasley and having Granger at his mercy -- that was a tempting thought.
Sneering, Malfoy moved into the bedroom to get ready for the day. Granger was proud, though, so it would be a challenge to make her beg for anything. Malfoy paused, hand in his bedroom cupboard, and considered it. That actually sounded like a perfect way to kill time while he waited to return to more suitable company. Shagging Granger had to be worth bragging rights even if he never told anyone else (she was still a Mudblood, after all). And knowing that he'd taken her from Weasley just for the hell of it...
Malfoy smirked. By the time he was done, Granger would beg him to have sex with her.
And at the end of the year, he'd leave her alone and craving him.
ooooo
Malfoy was so busy with his devious planning that he didn't realize he'd forgotten the eggs on the stove.
He also missed the smoke flooding the house from the kitchen.

A/N 2: Yes, Pansy will be appearing in this story. I, of course, took creative liberties with the whole death camp aspect, but I thought it something that Voldemort would logically have done and non-Death Eater supporters would have contributed to. We don't know much about Pansy in the books outside of her distaste for Muggleborns, that she was clearly terrified of getting caught in the final battle with Voldemort, and that she tended to follow Draco around like a puppy. So I gave her what I hope is some logical character development and ran with it. Plus, Hermione doesn't strike me as the type to kick someone when they're down, not even Pansy. I hope my reasoning seems logical enough to everyone. Again, thanks for reading the chapter and please feel free to review. I'd love to know what everyone thinks.
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Reluctant Promises