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Empire of Ants	By : crzydiamond Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9543 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the franchise. No money is being made from this story

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Multiple Personalities

Cool hands running along his heated face drew Draco out of his slumber. Without opening his eyes, he could tell that a pounding headache was going to torture him for the rest of the morning.

“Granger,” he croaked through a cotton dry mouth. “I need some water.”

“I'm not Ms. Granger,” came a waspish, female voice.

Draco opened his eyes slowly to see a woman around the age of seventy standing over him. She had thin grey hair pulled back into a tight chignon and a drawn face with severe angles. Her nose was large and beaky and above them, two deep set, glittering black eyes. He noted with grim amusement that she looked a lot like Snape. No. Most definitely, not Granger.

The hazy memories of the night before flooded back into his head, intensifying the throbbing pain in his temples. Thats right- he told Granger never to come back.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Language young man. I am another healer. I was the only one who was willing to replace Ms. Granger.” Her voice was dry and crackly, like the sound of old parchment crumpling in a fist. “My name is Prudence Hale.”

Wonderful- they sent him another wraith.

After helping him to sit up, she pressed a cold glass of water in his hand and watched him as he drank the entire thing down. He slowly lowered the glass, matching her gaze with a steely one of his own.

“You look just like your father,” she said as if it was everyday conversation.

“Excuse me?” he snarled.

“I used to work with Lucius in the Ministry.” She paused. “Before he got me fired.”

“Let me guess,” Draco drawled. “You're going to make this healing process more painful than necessary to alleviate the past wrongs committed against you by my father?”

“No. I'm not that childish. I was just making a comment- its almost uncanny.”

Normally, Draco would be proud to hear someone say that he resembled his father. But considering Lucius was an insane, blithering mess with dreadlocks, it wasn't too much of a compliment- or rather, it reminded him of how drastically things had changed.

Suddenly, Prudence's facial expression changed. It was unnerving to look at. It was like a different person slipped into her body.

“Oh Prudence, he's such a handsome young thing!” came a feminine voice that was higher pitched- it sounded decidedly younger than Prudence's tone. The voice wasn't disturbing- it was the fact that it was coming from Prudence's mouth. A cold shiver ran down Draco's spine as he watched the change of expressions play across Prudence's face.

“Hush, Delilah. I'm only here to heal him,” Prudence admonished in a severe tone. “Thats Delilah. She thinks you're quite good looking.”

Draco was shell-shocked and could only gape at the Healer in front of him. She didn't seem to notice and instead, preoccupied herself with peeling the bandages from his chest.

“Now lets start with that back...”

Two hours later and Draco wanted to bash his head in on the bricks of the fireplace.

Prudence and Delilah bickered constantly. Prudence was a conservative woman who reminded him of McGonagall while Delilah seemed to be in her twenties with the intelligence equivalent to a hinkypunk. And when Prudence wasn't completely focused, Delilah would surface and chatter incessantly about the most ridiculous things, like hair potions and dress robes. She was a clone of Pansy Parkinson, a menace he thought he escaped when he left Hogwarts.

“And then I told her that the red robes were absolutely atrocious! I mean, how could she wear red with her hair color?”

Draco gritted his teeth, trying to sink into his own mind to drown out Delilah. She didn't even notice that he wasn't looking at her, concentrating on the yellowing, cracked ceiling instead.

Suddenly, Draco felt a finger slid down his face. Shocked, he looked up to see Prudence's wrinkled face twisting into a saucy smile.

“Handsome, are you even listening?” Delilah purred, winking at him.

Seeing an old woman making a move on him made Draco want to vomit almost as badly as Granger's bleeding heart. In fact, he'd do almost anything to have the mudblood back at this point.

Her fingers trailed down his neck and stopped at his exposed chest, drawing lazy circles on his skin. “Why don't we do something a little more fun while Prudence is locked away? I know you're still healing- I'll be very, very careful.”

It was the wink that did it.

Draco pushed the old woman away from him. He fell to the floor in his eagerness to get away. His leg were still healing and totally numb, so he had to push himself backwards with his one good arm.

“Now don't be like that handsome,” Delilah said. Her voice dropped an octave as if she was trying to sound seductive. “I know you'll like it. In fact, thats a promise. I'm very good at what I do.”

“Don't touch me!” Draco snapped as she reached for him. “You insane bint!”

Delilah retracted her hand, blinking dumbly a few times before the tell tale expression of Prudence returned. She clicked her tongue in admonishment before grasping Draco's arms and pulling him back onto the couch.

“I'm terribly sorry about that. Its been such a long time since-”

“Stop,” Draco growled. “I don't want to hear another word about your sex life.”

Prudence raised an eyebrow. “I was going to say since Delilah's been out. What exactly was she saying to you?”

When he didn't answer, she just continued replacing the soiled bandages. “I think we're going to have a lovely two weeks together young man.”

“Tw-two weeks?” Draco stuttered. He paled considerably. There was no way he'd survive another day, let alone two weeks with Prudence- he had a sneaking suspicion that Delilah would give him too much numbing potion and molest him in his sleep.

“Yes, until you're totally healed. ”

His body began to shake. For the first time in his life, Draco was mortally afraid.

Suddenly he opened up his mouth and yelled so loud that the entire house was alerted.

“Granger!”

______________________________________________________________________________

“I see Prudence was your new healer?” came Hermione's slightly amused voice as she started where the older woman left off.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Draco hissed venomously, eyes narrowed accusingly.

“No Malfoy. I don't have that much time on my hands to plan how to irritate you. Prudence is very good at what she does, despite the fact that she's a multiple personality. Delilah has been dormant for so long that I didn't even think about it.”

“She's insane,” he whispered, shivering as his mind traveled back to the leer on Prudence's face as she touched his bare chest.

“An unfortunate result of the Cruciatus curse,” Hermione said softly. “Poor Prudence. Her mind split from the stress of it.”

Draco would've perhaps felt a small sliver of guilt if her other personality hadn't just tried to come onto him. “She shouldn't be allowed to work on male patients Granger.”

“She hasn't for a while. The same thing happened with Seamus Finnigan, after he'd been in a duel with a couple of deatheaters- according to Prudence, Delilah is a rather...loose girl. Seamus wanted her head on a platter. So we gave her only female patients. She was the only one kind hearted enough to want to take you on.”

“Kind hearted? Maybe she just wanted a chance to fondle me!”

“You didn't have much of choice after you kicked me out last night,” she snapped. “Prudence is very sweet- you just happened to get acquainted more quickly with Delilah`

“I don't want to talk about her,” he said caustically. “You have an amazing ability to ramble incessantly- choose another topic.”

“You should be walking soon,” Hermione complied moving to observe his legs. “Can you feel your leg?”

“No.”

“It'll take around a week but you should regain feeling soon.”

A bevy of whispers alerted Draco to the fact that there were Order members walking past, glancing in to stare. He scowled at Dean Thomas, who was overly interested in trying to overhear their conversation. Others were giving him black, murderous looks on their way to the kitchen.

Hermione caught his line of sight and sighed. “Being cooped up in here means limited avenues of entertainment- I think you're the most exciting thing that's happened since the Prudence- Seamus incident.”

“Aren't I supposed to be moved to a room?” Draco drawled impatiently, eager to escape the watchful eyes of the Order members.

“Later today-”

“Hermione.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Harry standing in the doorway, followed closely by a stony faced Ron. Both glared at Draco before motioning to Hermione for her to join them outside. Rolling her eyes at their antics, she rose and followed the two of them down the hallway into the front sitting room. With a flick of his wand, Harry locked and silenced the perimeter. Draco wasn't the only object of interest- many Order members found the trio a source of daily entertainment also.

“Is this the talk?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Don't act like that,” Ron said angrily. He stepped towards her. “Don't act like it doesn't mean anything. Like this isn't important.”

“Ron-”

“You promised you'd talk to us Hermione.”

Harry glanced between the two of them before agreeing with Ron. “He's right.”

Hermione sighed tiredly, sitting down on one of the old, dusty couches. “Ask away.”

“How long?” Ron questioned. “How long has this been going on?”

“Every night since I returned.”

Both boys' faces turned red with shock, Ron's more a deep purple. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“And you didn't tell us?” Ron's voice grew to an angry yell. “All this time you've been lying to us-”

“Ron, I'm fine. Its fine-”

“Nightmares like those aren't fine!”

“So what's going to help then?” Hermione said. “Whether I told you or not, they're still going to happen! Nothing will change that! And you didn't need the extra burden of dealing with nightmares when you had horcruxes to find!”

Harry shook his head vehemently. “Hermione don't think that. Its not a burden, you'd never be a burden-”

“Harry its a burden to have to rock a hysterical girl back to sleep every single night. To be awoken by the screaming every single night. Don't lie to me to make me feel better. I know it so why can't you two just admit it?”

“It wasn't a burden Hermione! We care about you- I never once regretted getting up to hold you.” Though he was still yelling, there was a note of utter helplessness and sadness in his tone of voice that Hermione almost found herself tearing up like a ridiculous school girl.

“Whats done is done,” Hermione said after a silent moment, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat. “You know now, nonetheless. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.” Her apology was stiff and forced but it seemed to satisfy the two of them anyway.

Harry slid an arm around her shoulders, placing a soft kiss to her cheek before leaving the room. She was left with Ron- she could feel him staring at her but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she sat down heavily in an armchair by the bay window.

“Don't shut me out Hermione. Please.” She heard him kneel in front of her and felt him take her clenched hands into his own. “Look at me.”

She slid her eyes to meet his before saying in a small voice, “I won't Ron. I promise.”

“I just want...I just want you to be happy, you know? Thats all I ever wanted.”

“I know.”

His intense blue gaze searched her own as he raised fingers to push back an errant curl that'd escaped from her tight ponytail. “I'd do anything for you Hermione. I love you.”

“I know,” she repeated with a small smile. “I love you too Ron. But there are things I can handle on my own. I'm Hermione Granger, remember?”

He didn't show any sign that he found her stab at a joke amusing- in fact his gaze became disconcerting, as if he wasn't so sure just who she was anymore. Suddenly feeling sick to her stomach, she quickly removed her hands from his and stood up, straightening her crumpled shirt.

“I need to go and finish healing Malfoy.”

Ron followed her to the door, rolling his eyes. “Do you really need to be with that bugger every second of the day?”

“Well if someone hadn't attacked him a fit of rage, I wouldn't have to!” Hermione spun on him, eyes flaring with annoyance.

The redhead seemed slightly taken aback but then grinned widely. “Now that sounds more like you.”

“Thats not funny Ron,” she snapped, stepping out into the hallway to stalk back to the drawing room. She heard his heavy foot fall behind her.

“I just meant that its been a while since you've been angry.” There was a smile evident in his voice. “Or since you've scolded me.”

“So you want me to scold you?”

Hermione was abruptly stopped by his hand on her shoulder. Spinning around, she saw the sincere look in his eyes as he said, “Its good to hear from time to time.”

“I'll make sure to do that then. But don't say I didn't warn you,” Hermione threatened half jokingly. There were actually a lot of things she wanted to scold Ron for- but she usually was too tired to draw the strength to enter into a yelling match.

His hand slipped from her shoulder, up her neck, to tenderly cup her cheek. Hermione almost leaned into the caress before remembering that they were in the middle of the hall, right in front of the parlor doorway. “Ron...” A deep flush spread to her cheeks.

“Sorry.” He dropped his hand to his side before turning towards the kitchen. “I'm gonna...go get something to eat. I'll see you after you're done with Malfoy, yeah?”

“When I'm done with Malfoy,” Hermione corrected caustically. “I don't know how long it'll take.”

Ron had the decency to look a little abashed. He pressed a quick peck to her cheek and ran off as fast he could. Hermione sighed tiredly and then stepped into the parlor. She was surprised to see Malfoy already propped up against the arm of the couch.

“What a lovely interaction between you and Weasley,” he drawled without looking up. “Next time you two should try displaying more public affection- I don't think I vomited quite enough this time.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked, ignoring his insult.

“I don't know Granger. Maybe I am, considering I haven't eaten in the past two days. I can't exactly get up to get it myself.”

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the drawing room, wiping her hands on her apron. “Hermione, I've brought a plate of food for you dear.”

“Thanks Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione replied with a grateful smile.

“And also one for Malfoy,” the older woman added in a lower voice. She used her wand to levitate two plates over to Hermione who caught them. “Eat up and tell me if you need anything!”

Draco stared at the plates in Hermione's hands, feeling his stomach clench painfully in hunger. If there was one thing he'd never turn down, it was food. Good food was the only thing for him that transcended social strata and stations. And from the smell of it, the Weasley brood mare's food was going to be delicious.

He watched impatiently as Hermione placed the plate on the tray beside the couch before settling in her designated armchair by the fire. Stomach still growling, Draco looked down to see freshly made biscuits, a rasher of bacon, over easy eggs, and buttered toast. He gingerly took a bite from the biscuit which already had a strawberry jelly smothered on the inside and his eyes nearly closed in pleasure.

“Its good isn't it?” Hermione questioned from across the room. She watched as Draco nearly inhaled the rest of his breakfast, polishing it clean in under five minutes.

“Decent,” he finally replied tonelessly.

Hermione hid the knowing look on her face. “Can you stand up? On your good leg?”

“I haven't tried Granger. Between getting tackled by Weasley and molested by Prudence, I really haven't found the time.”

“Come on Maloy. Lets get you up.”

She slid an arm around his upper chest, careful to avoid his wounds and broken ribs. He flinched at her touch but endured it anyway, concentrating more on swinging his numb leg over the edge to place his foot on the floor. He swayed uncertainly before settling his weight on his good leg.

“I've got it,” Draco said icily through gritted teeth. He ignored her doubtful look and grabbed the crutch beside the couch, moving away from her outstretched arm. With some difficulty he managed to make it to the parlor door by himself. Glancing over his shoulder to look at a shocked Granger, he raised an eyebrow. “Coming mudblood?”

Hermione stepped around him, glancing over his body to make sure that none of his wounds had opened back up. “Malfoy your ribs are still broken. I don't think that crutches are the best idea. Not to mention your other arm is snapped in two-”

“Shut up and show me the way.”

As he followed her down the hallway, he noticed that the rest of the house was just as dreary and tastelessly decorated as the parlor room he was in. He noticed elf heads mounted on the wall and noted to himself that that this side of the Black family had been more odd than he originally thought. They passed a large library and an adjacent room where there were large cauldrons with flames lit beneath them.

“That's my potions room,” she explained, seeing his slight interest.

“Potions? You brew potions?” he asked disbelievingly.

“I'm the only one here who actually enjoys the art. Professor Snape taught me before...” She trailed off, not wanting to bring up the Potion Master's disappearance.

“He willingly taught you?” the blonde snorted. “He hated you.”

Hermione shrugged- before her capture, Snape had actually grown to be a sort of a mentor. Though he was sarcastic, mean, and spiteful, he often gave her excellent advice, however cryptic or cynical it was. “I think he was just glad someone enjoyed potions as much as he did.”

“Where is he anyway?” Draco asked, a note of interest in his voice.

“You didn't know?” she asked with wide eyes. “Snape...he disappeared. We don't know what happened to him. He went on a journey to find something he deemed of great importance. He never told me what it was, said it was too dangerous and that he had to go alone. But he never came back.”

There was a sadness apparent on her face that shocked Draco. No one was fond of the Potions Master, except perhaps Lucius who'd been friends with him since Hogwarts and Draco, who was his godson. It was utterly surprising to see someone genuinely grieve over him.

Hermione continued talking, not really for Draco to hear but to affirm her thoughts out loud. “He left me a journal- but I can't open it.”

This piqued Draco's curiosity. “Why?”

“He said I'd know when I needed to open it. And when I did, it would open of its own accord. It hasn't opened yet. Once it does, I intend to find him. No one around here cares enough to look for him.”

Draco raised a silver eyebrow. “And why do you?”

“Because he deserves it,” she answered softly, eyes focused solely on the potions room. “Everyone whose lost deserves to be found.”

For a brief moment, Draco caught himself thinking that perhaps there was some sort of illicit relationship between the Potions Master and the mudblood. It was a ridiculous notion, but anything was possible. Snape had been in love with a mudblood during school, Lucius told him, though he never revealed the name of the girl.

“Maybe he's not lost Granger. If you've forgotten he's a Slytherin. Maybe he just ran to save his own hide.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I don't think so. He had many opportunities to run away and he didn't. Just because he's a Slytherin doesn't mean that he didn't find something he wanted to fight for.”

“Granger self-preservation is the foundation upon which the Slytherin philosophy depends on. The man was my Head of House for seven years- believe me when I say that more than likely, he ran.”

She turned scrutinizing eyes on him. “There's nothing that you would fight for Malfoy? No matter what? Something that you would give up anything for?”

His mother's face immediately swam to the surface- her gossamer thin green robes in spring, her smile, the ridiculous and over the top care packages she sent him every week that he publicly detested but privately cherished. But even his own mother...he couldn't find enough...of whatever it was to pull out his wand and blast the head off of Nagini. He didn't even try to save Narcissa- a part of him knew it was fruitless but another part of him knew that it would've been the action that counted. The fact that he threw everything to the wind to try and save the one person he loved wholly in this world.

But Slytherins weren't known for their bravery. Or rash decisions made in the name of pride and glory.

So Draco stood there and did nothing. As she was eaten alive. As she turned and smiled at him before the snake coiled around her thin body. It would haunt him forever. It would eat away at him forever until there was nothing left for the guilt to devour.

“No,” he answered blandly. “Like I said, I'm a Slytherin. I fight for myself.”

“That excuse is getting old,” she said almost mockingly. “Take responsibility for yourself instead of blaming your personality traits on your house- you were Draco Malfoy before you were ever a Slytherin.”

“I take responsibility for myself!” Draco snapped vehemently, struggling to keep up with her swift pace when she resumed walking. “Maybe you should take responsibility for yourself instead of trying to psychoanalyze everyone else.”

He saw her shoulders rise and fall in a nonchalant shrug. “I wasn't trying to psychoanalyze you Malfoy. Merlin knows I don't know the black inner workings of your mind well enough to make any type of analysis.”

“Really?” he responded sardonically. “And here I was thinking you had me all figured out.”

With a flick of her wand the door on their left suddenly opened and she stepped back to allow him passage inside. His nose wrinkled instinctively as an unpleasant stale smell asualted his nostrils that suggested no one had been inside the room for the past twenty years- considering the house's history, that was entirely possible.

There was atrocious plum colored wallpaper that was beginning to peel. There was one small window that looked out onto a brick wall. The furniture was at a minimum with just a small bed, a chair, and a desk. All looked brittle and old. The unpolished wooden floorboards creaked hideously beneath their feet. Numerous, thick cobwebs hung heavily in the corners of the room by the ceiling.

“Your room,” Hermione said. She flicked her wand to clear the dust and cobwebs. Another flick left the floorboards clean and another banished the stale smell in favor of a clean, citrus scent. A wave put blue cotton sheets on the thin mattress covered by a duvet. It was a far, far cry from the opulence of the manor but it was a slight improvement from the lumpy, moth eaten couch in an overly public area.

Draco limped over to the bed and sat down, wincing when he felt the faint outline of metal springs through the thin padding of the mattress. It looked a little like a prison cell. In many ways, it was fitting- he was essentially the prisoner of the Order and a prisoner of his own fate. Either path he chose, he'd be trapped.

But this was the lesser of the two evils.

“Adequate?” Hermione asked, knowing that to his standards, the room was far below sub par.

“It'll do,” Draco answered stiffly.

He laid back against the bed, silent until she took the hint and left, closing the door softly behind her.

He listened to the sound of her gentle footsteps travel down the hall.

He found himself wondering when she'd be coming back.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Dinner was a forced, awkward affair.

After thumping on the wall and yelling to Granger that he was hungry, Hermione told him that if he wanted to eat, he'd have to go down to the kitchens and attend dinner like everyone else. She wanted him to begin using his leg as much as possible to retain muscle mass.

“Stupid bint,” he muttered. He was currently limping down the hall after her though she was far ahead of him, her nose stuck in a book that she apparently couldn't put down, even while walking.

Approaching the kitchen, he could hear a multitude of voices chattering. That stopped immediately once he appeared in the doorway. The silence would've made him uncomfortable if he hadn't been used to it from the revels he had to attend. All eyes were trained on him and Hermione.

“For those of you who don't know, this is Draco Malfoy. He'll be joining us for meals from now on.”

“Are you serious?” Ron snapped, his eyes turning red.

“Unless you want to be the one hand delivering his food to him,” Hermione threatened in a low voice as she slid a chair out from the table. Draco reluctantly took the only open seat next to her.

Everyone kept their eyes on him, sitting in silence rather than return to the conversations they were having before his arrival. “Don't mind me,” he said sarcastically. “By all means, continue.”

The Weasley girl seemed to be the only one who caught his sarcasm and turned to Tonks to ask her something about some sort of training plan. Cautious looks were shot his way before the talking slowly increased to a loud hum of voices.

“Isn't he supposed to be on bed rest?” Ron pointed out from across the table.

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes, piling food onto her plate. “He's recovering faster than anticipated Ron, not that thats any of your business considering the setbacks were caused by you.”

“Yes Weasley, I never got to thank you for the lovely broken arm you gave me,” Draco drawled nonchalantly, his eyes narrowed eyes.

“You deserved it,” Ron growled back, hands clenching on the edge of the table.

“Really Weasley? Because if I remember correctly, you were the one who tackled someone who was recovering from torture.”

“Ron! You didn't!” came Mrs. Weasley shocked voice. She'd been missing for the incident last night and apparently hadn't heard of her son and Malfoy's altercation. A hand raised a wooden spoon and landed it squarely on the back of Ron's head, hard.

Ron winced, rubbing the sore spot profusely. “Mum its Malfoy!”

“Maybe next time you should wait to fight with someone whose fully recovered,” Draco continued, enjoying the reddening of Ron's face. “Do you make it a habit to physically maim patients?”

“No but I don't differentiate between injured Deatheater scum and regular Deatheater scum,” Ron ground out through clenched teeth. “Either way you still have the Dark Mark on your arm.”

“Apparently. Not very Gryffindor like to go after the injured...how very Slytherin of you.”

It was like Draco stepped on one of those land mimes or something or other they'd learned about in Mudblood Studies. He watched Ron blow up uninterestedly. “I'm no Slytherin you fucking bastard!” His yelling silenced the room again as he stood up, fists clenching and unclenching by his side.

“Ron calm down,” Hermione pleaded.

Blue eyes slid from her face to the bored look on Draco's, finally focusing on Molly Weasley brandishing her spoon threateningly. Reluctantly, Ron sat back down.

“That kind of rash behavior will get you killed boy,” came Moody's gruff voice. No one acknowledged that they heard the Auror so he turned his magical gaze on Draco instead. “You need to start pulling your weight Malfoy.”

Draco blinked. “What?”

“You didn't think we'd let you stay here for free did you?”

“I thought betraying a multitude of facts about the Dark Lord would be payment enough,” Draco answered dryly.

“Wrong.” Moody suddenly stood up. “Attention please!”

Talking trickled down into quiet murmurs.

“Malfoy here needs to start pulling his own weight. Any ideas?”

Ron then suggested. “How about he clean the house?”

Draco's eyes almost popped out of his head- never in his life had he cleaned before. He hadn't even seen a broom until the time he accidentally found himself in Filch's broom closet to avoid being accosted by Parkinson.

“By hand,” the red head added, grinning pointedly at Draco.

“He can't,” Hermione pointed out. “The wounds on his back will take a long time to heal. Strenuous cleaning will only worsen them and cause more problems for me to deal with.”

“Any other takers?” Moody asked.

Dead silence. Not a hand was raised. Draco didn't know whether to feel relieved or apprehensive- who knew what Moody would have in store for him if no one else volunteered. Then suddenly, Remus spoke up.

“What about helping Hermione with the potions? I know you were struggling to make such large batches by yourself.”

A part of Hermione wanted to hex Remus while the other part wanted to thank him for the idea. Most of her time was spent on essential potions- blood replenishers, potions for torn muscle and tissue, numbing potions. As it was she barely had enough time to keep them stocked on the minimum. From time to time, someone would come help out but more often than not that proved to be a setback rather than a move forward.

“I don't know,” Hermione said uncertainly. After healing Malfoy, they both wanted to be free from each other. She could feel him stiffen beside her, obviously thinking the same thing. “I don't think thats a good idea.”

“He could help me out,” came Prudence's cackly voice. “I need a strapping young man to aid me.”

Draco paled considerably. “No. Anything but that.”

“I can't say I blame him,” Ron muttered to Harry. All of the males around the table shuddered as Prudence, no doubt with Delilah as the primary personality, grinned at Draco, fluttering her eyelashes.

“I don't think that'll be appropriate,” McGonagall said in a tight, stern voice. “Need I remind you of your past transgressions?”

Delilah pouted, looking ridiculous in the body of a seventy year old woman. “You're no fun Minnie! Such a bore!”

Rolling his one good eye, Moody then repeated, “Any other takers?”

“If no one else takes him then why can't I?” Delilah whined obnoxiously. “Better to use him than not, right?”

“His use would benefit you more than the Order,” McGonagall pointed out.

Moody argued back, “I think Prudence has a point Minerva. All the boy is going to do it sit in his room, undoubtedly plotting traitorous plans. Prudence can keep him...busy.”

Nearly everyone caught the sexual hint in Moody's sentence.

“Granger,” Draco ground out through clenched teeth beneath his breath. “You better fucking say something or I swear I'll throw myself down the steps and break every bone you've healed all over again!”

“No,” Hermione said stubbornly. As eager as he was to be rid of her, she was to be rid of him.

“Didn't you say you owed me?” he hissed. “Going to back out on an obligation?”

She knew the answer before she even protested. For some twisted reason, even thought it'd been her who'd healed him, her who offered him sanctuary, she felt perpetually indebted to him- it was guilt more than a sense of obligation.

“Alright,” she muttered softly.

“I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you,” he sneered, purposefully goading her

“Fine”

Moody glanced at Hermione, clearly surprised by her changed answer. “Ms. Granger?”

“Malfoy...he can work with me,” Hermione said reluctantly. “I do need help to get the stock above minimum.”

“Are you positive?”

She looked at Draco, who gave her a false, beaming smile similar to ones she'd seen in muggle yearbooks. “Yes.”

There was an outraged cry from across the table- Ron looked about ready to tackle Draco to the ground again but was halted by the approach of his mother. “Don't you dare young man! I will have none of that behavior at this table!”

“I have to agree with Ron's sentiments,” Kingsley spoke up suddenly, his deep timbre easily detectable in the sea of voices. “Giving him access to potions isn't the most vigilant of plans.”

Draco snorted, “What am I going to do? Poison you all?”

The eerie silence that met his question was his answer as eyes turned to regard him skeptically.

“He won't be there without me,” Hermione assured grudgingly, still looking green about the whole idea.

McGonagall stared at her favorite student over her wire rimmed classes, lips pursed into a thin line. Her sharp eyes turned from Hermione to Draco, who was scowling blackly. “If you say so Ms. Granger. I do hope you know what you're doing.”

You and I both.

“Don't worry Professor. I'm perfectly capable.”

The lie slid from her lips without any hesitation.

The expression on McGonagall's face was clear...I hope you don't regret it.

Hermione couldn't agree with her more.
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Empire of Ants