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Deception	By : valkyrie136 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 41671 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters or related franchises. I do not make any money from these stories.

Chapter List
- 1-Finish It
- 2-Red Rabbit
- 3-Linger
- 4-Setting Out
- 5-Sweet
- 6-Shiver
- 7-Discord
- 8-Intruder
- 9-Preservation
- 10-Humiliation
- 11-Prurient
- 12-Dreams
- 13-Denial
- 14-Contemplation
- 15-Panic
- 16-Ravish
- 17-Rape
- 18-Cling
- 19-Disown
- 20-Nightmare
- 21-Haze
- 22-Discover
- 23-Bitter
- 24-Present
- 25-Detached
- 26-Regret
- 27-Dispute
- 28-Colors
- 29-Awakened
- 30-Obedience
- 31-Anger
- 32-Challenge
- 33-Confused
- 34-Cold
- 35-Fear
- 36-Cryptic
- 37-Void
- 38-Ninth Hour
- 39-Tenth Hour
- 40-Eleventh Hour
- 41-Midnight
- 42-Suprise
- 43-Infantile
- 44-Oath
- 45-Defeat
- 46-Maleficent
- 47-End
- 4
- 5
- 6
He stared dispassionately at the fleshy lump that some individuals--wrong of course--decreed had the right to breathe the same air as his self. Few, he firmly believed, were as pathetic and worthless as Neville Longbottom. He was a bug that should have been squashed beneath his heel long ago.
Insects. All of them insects.
Draco Malfoy stood very still, keenly aware that he was being observed by dozens of eyes.
He did not appreciate being detained. But Longbottom had chosen to pour his coffee all over his suit. Malfoy was very fastidious about his appearance. He could not stand looking anything less than his best anymore than he could stand the humiliation of a spectacle. A spectacle where he was at the center. But it was an insult he could not overlook.
‘I am so sorry,’ Longbottom sobbed, moving to wipe up the mess with a rag Malfoy assumed qualified as a handkerchief.
He held up a hand, and Longbottom froze, hastily pulling back.
Looking as if the next moment might be his last.
Malfoy smiled. A gentle, friendly smile.
‘Accidents happen,’ he allowed his gaze to examine those who watched him. He saw everyone release the breath they held.
Longbottom smiled, ‘I am so sorry, I promise I will buy you a new suit.’
Malfoy laughed, ‘That isn’t necessary. As I said, these things happen. It’s moments like these where the lessons of our teachers again remind us to be forgiving.’
Longbottom nodded, looking away, ‘Yes, I—‘
Malfoy hit him so hard his entire body swung around. Longbottom dropped like a pile of bricks, and it was clear from this angle that his jaw was broken.
He narrowed his eyes and glared at the spectators, ‘Unfortunately, I don’t believe in forgiveness. ‘ And then his expression immediately changed, all smiles and gentleness again, ‘I hate having to deliver such a strongly-worded message. If anyone has any concerns, my door is always open.’
Malfoy carefully produced his wand and performed a scourgify spell before neatly sidestepping around Longbottom. As inconvenient as it was, he did confess to enjoying these encounters. They always served to remind him yet again that the work of the Dark Lord would live on through his actions, putting the lessers in their place one person at a time.
Even if it meant he was forced to endure the presence of filthy mudbloods. It seemed the Ministry was overrun with them. Their stink…was sometimes overwhelming.
Because everyone huddled around Longbottom, the corridor was blessedly clear of impertinent bodies. He strolled towards his office, mentally calculating the pros and cons of instituting a new policy that gave him the freedom to beat the shit out of Longbottom, or really anybody, he deemed deserving. Unfortunately such a policy would only ever exist in the realm of thought because his new role required that he work together with the very people he planned on killing less than a year ago.
Then literally from nowhere came a power so strong that he was nearly brought to his knees.
He was frozen, rooted to the floor, unable to stop himself from taking deep, breaths--
Sweet.
Heaven.
Immediately his blood began to burn, and he felt his cock go from limp to rock hard. If not for his robes all eyes would be on the enormous tent in his trousers.
He gripped the railing, his vision narrowing , almost so that he could see nothing. He was looking…searching…where was it coming from?
FINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFINDFIND!!!
Pink dress.
For a moment, he felt time stand still.
A silence so loud it was deafening.
All he saw was the girl in the pink dress. Her head was turned, but he could make out the slender shape of her neck. Little chestnut curls curling against her fair skin.
He always thought the neck was one of the sexiest part of the female body. Delicate, feminine. So different from a male’s anatomy. It wasn’t his favorite part, but he adored it all the same.
I want to lick it.
Taste it.
Bite it.
To drink of her, to mark her, so that everyone would know that she was his.
My female.
Mine.
Never to go.
‘Sir, could you—‘
Hissing, he turned, picking up the interfering man with hand and bringing his face up against his,’What is it?!’
Unfortunately the man could not speak, and Draco released him immediately.
What the fuck is the matter with me?
He ignored the looks everyone was giving him. To knock Longbottom out was logical, but a total stranger asking a question? He could only get away with so much in this new position before inquiries were made, and he did not want to be in the position of donning the ‘good little boy’ hat again.
Abandoning everything else,he immediately went searching for the woman.
That was all that mattered. She was his number one priority. Everyone else could die.
He carefully picked his way through the crowd, following the trail. Never had his sense of smell been so strong; it was almost primal. But that was something to worry about later. For now, he needed to find the girl. He pushed people aside, knocking people to the ground, unable to hear there muttered curses or even realize what he was doing because his mind was completely focused on the pursuit.
Eventually, he found himself standing outside of one of the many private rooms used for ever task, from the mundane to the important.
Not bothering to knock, he flung the door open, ignoring the fact that it put a whole in the wall, and felt his breath hitch as he expected to find her here.
Instead his lip curled in immediate disgust.
The scent was strongest here, but the mysterious woman was not present.
All he saw was the bane of his existence—Longbottom—attempting to make conversation with an enemy he had hoped was dead.
Hermione Granger sat across the table, and whatever they had been doing stopped because both turned to look at him. To the left of the girl was another insect—the Finnigun boy.
Lobgbottom looked terrified.
Finnigun looked irritated.
Granger looked frightened.
Malfoy gripped the door handle, tapping into all of his patience because all he desired was to go up to the disgusting girl and snap her neck—only after breaking the other bones in her body.
He could not stand her. His skin was crawling. A strange pins-and-needle sensation had started and would not desist. In fact, all he wanted to do was to touch her. What made his frustration all the more palpable that clearly the girl he had seen had been here--the scent was almost overpowering--but she was nowhere in sight.
But Malfoy could not give chase when Granger was present. Oh no, she was the number one priority now.
‘Well what have we here? Seems like someone isn’t dead.’
He watched her closely, looking for any signs of weakness.
She took in a deep breath, and turned away, as if he weren’t there. A gesture that he interpreted as her admission that she wanted to be killed by him because no one treated him thus, especially not a mudblood. ‘Neville, I think we should take you to a nurse.’
‘Agreed,’ Finnigun grunted.
So the little bitch is putting on airs.
Changing tactic, he said lightly, as if discussing the weather, ‘You seem to be missing something....or is it someone...?' He let his hand cradle the side of his face and assumed an expression of deep thought, 'Yes... as I recall you always have two flies around you.' He paused, and then quickly added, 'Of course they were attracted to your stench. But what were their names?’ He pretend to think for a few moments, delighting in her clear discomfort. She was breathing more quickly, and her cheeks were bright red. If not for the presence of the other two and his preoccupation with the woman, he would have closed the distance between them and left his mark on her.
Yesssss....mark....bite.....
He kept his calm but found the voice in his head oddly disturbing...and yet incredibly persuasive. He would like nothing more than to mark her in a way that made her always aware of her place--and how far beneath him she was.
‘…Hermione?’ Neville gently asked.
Instead of doing as he wanted, Malfoy snapped his fingers, ‘Yes, I remember now! Potter and Weasley! Yes, they can’t possibly be here because they’re dead.’ He smiled prettily at her, even batted his eyelashes.
Neville gently placed his hand on top of hers.
In a thoughtful voice, Malfoy continued, ‘I wonder how you’re still alive? You and I should schedule tea time and discuss that bit of news. I am very curious, as is the rest of the world, I’m certain.’
Looking as if she were about to be sick, she grabbed her bag and rose, the chair screeching loudly. Head down, she ran past Malfoy, and he kept his gaze glued to her form until she disappeared around the corner, and out of sight.
He turned back to the other two in the room and innocently asked, ‘Was it something I said?’
__
Hermione made it out of sight before she broke into a run. Blindly she shoved past people, knowing she must look like a crazy woman because tears streamed down her face.
It wasn’t until the she reached the ladies room that she suddenly remembered that she could use magic. Wow, wasn't she distraught?
In a flash she was back home.
Her mother rose from the table, took one look at her and cried out in alarm, ‘Hermione, what happened?!’
But instead of replying she sprinted up stairs, taking the steps two at a time, until she was in her room and able to slap the door behind her.
She threw herself on the bed and hugged her best friend in the world—her pillow—to her chest and burst out into tears.
What the hell did she do to him?! For the past seven years he had done nothing but do everything in his power to hurt her, whether it was reminding her of her inferiority, seeking to impose his twisted view of the world on others, or straight out physically hurting her. After everything, he still persisted. It was amazing, because she was trying to simply survive and get her life back. She didn't have the energy to deal with him, let alone engage him because it always ended in violence. It never went anywhere, and god help her but she didn't care about convincing him otherwise.
How she hated him! Why did he have to appear today? Why did he have to show up and in typical Malfoy fashion he knew precisely what to say, and how to say it, crushing her like she were nothing.
Why can't they just leave me alone?!
Too late. Images were coming back. Of that night. Of what happened.
She did not want to remember.
Go away go away go away!
Struggling for air, she looked around. Darkness was threatening. She was going to pass out.
Don’t cry.
Hermione froze.
She looked around. Unable to stand yet, she remained very, very still.
Don’t cry.
There it was again. Low, unfamiliar, and altogether intrusive. Hovering on the edge of her consciousness.
Hermione sprung from her bed in fear, wildly looking for the source of the voice but seeing nothing.
‘W-what are you? Who are you?’ she whispered.
Several minutes passed.
They didn’t answer.
And Hermione truly felt as if she were losing her mind.
__
Malfoy felt immense pleasure after his unexpected encounter with the mudblood.
He wished he could have placed his hands on her. Oh he would have enjoyed it. He had one opportunity to torture her, not too long ago in fast, but he had always wanted to physically make her hurt.
In fact, he remembered thinking up ways in his room at school to get to her. Always they involved touching her. Alas, she was never alone, making it impossible.
The scent in the room all but vanished after Granger departed, and unfortunately he was having difficulty following it. Just like a mudblood, ruining everything. If not for her, he would have been able to find her. But then it was also his fault. Unable to resist a confrontation, he was the one who had lingered when in truth he should have gone on with the choice. But wherever that bitch was concerned he just never seemed to be able to help himself. It made him want to punish her, to teach her a lesson--
Malfoy abandoned his pursuit but spent the rest of the day distracted. On edge. Everyone avoided him, which he welcomed. He hated people.
Now at home, he was unable to sleep. He restlessly paced back and forth.
He needed to kill something. He would kill something.
In the middle of his pacing, he paused.
Granger had been wearing a pink dress.
For a moment, he thought about it. And laughed out lout, the sound sharp and slightly unnatural.
But there was no way it could have been her. No. Fucking. Way. Granger was a far cry from the heavenly creature he scented. No, it was pure coincidence.
Go after her.
He should.
Teach her a lesson. Make her know who you are.
God how he wanted to see that disgusting cunt kneeling before him, begging, acknowledging that he, Draco Malfoy, was better than her.
Yesss, find her, force her,
Master her, he would dominate her, he would—
He abruptly stopped.
Enslave Hermione Granger? Now that sounded nice. Starve her, humiliate her.
He imagined her, begging him for simple sustenance. Her life in his hands. And laughed. Maybe in a perfect world—the one that was denied him and his allies because of her disgusting companions.
He opened a cabinet and pulled it out.
Fire whiskey.
And took a deep swallow, enjoying the burning sensation.
No one would notice, he bitterly thought. No one even talked about her, or thought about her. In the right world, she would have been his slave.
But things, as usual, did not go his way. Because of her.
Malfoy took another deep swallow.
Fuck it.
__________
A REVIEWER ASKED IF I AM LADY JANE WHO WROTE A BUNCH OF STORIES, INCLUDING 'YOU WON'T KNOW'. YEP, I AM. I HAVE LEARNED TO NEVER USE AN E-MAIL ADDRESS THAT I NEVER USE ON A DAILY BASIS BECAUSE I CANNOT REMEMBER THAT EMAIL ADDRESS. SORRY. ON A BRIGHTER NOTE, THAT STORY WAS INSPIRED BY THE SONG 'YOU WON'T KNOW' BY BRAND NEW. I LITERALLY IMAGINED THAT IT WAS MALFOY SINGING, AND WROTE [CHEESY, BUT IT HELPED!]
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING! I LOVE DARK, TWISTED STORIES AND HOPE MY WRITING CONTINUES TO REFLECT THAT. I LIKE CONTROVERSIAL STUFF. IF RAPE OR VIOLENCE IS A TRIGGER THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, THEN PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. THESE CHAPTERS ARE SETTING THE STAGE FOR SOME MESSED UP STUFF.
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Deception