Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Twisted	By : BB_Rosie & ArielKidd Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 31731 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I don't make any money from this story. I own nothing.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
AN: Please remember the warnings. This is a dark story with an even darker Draco. Ye be warned!!
Blaise crouched down beside the fireplace and clicked his fingers. Flames erupted from the stack of wooden logs and kindling. Normally, he preferred the house elves to build the fire each morning, but he couldn’t wait much longer that frosty morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet, the elves wouldn’t come for a few hours. Even the windows dripped with the evidence of condensation.
The residents of the dormitory were awake already. One hadn’t been to sleep yet – Theodore. He stumbled in, wearing the fragrance of sex and Knottgrass Mead; a cheaper drink that Blaise considered common.
Blaise rose to his feet and stretched his bare arms above his head. Draco emerged from the attached bathroom, rubbing a damp towel against his soaked hair. He and Blaise had business to attend to that morning.
“Mornin’,” said Theodore groggily. His puffy eyes wore the signs of sleep deprivation.
“Good night?” asked Draco cordially. His tone matched the iciness of his eyes, as well as Blaise’s chilled skin. Blaise added more wood to the fire and lingered nearby to relish in the warmth.
“Same old,” said Theodore. “Bettin’ yours was better.”
“You’d be wrong,” replied Blaise.
“Problems in your artificial paradise?” quipped Draco. He dropped the towel, displaying his nudity proudly, and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.
“I shouldn’t have lowered Luna’s dosage so early,” said Blaise. “I thought that by lessening the amount I slipped her, her emotional response would transition into a natural reaction.”
“That,” agreed Theodore, “and you’re all out.”
Blaise glanced at the nightstand where the vials of love potion resided. But the small bottles were, as Theo had said, empty. “I’ll pick up some more at Hogsmeade come Saturday. Shouldn’t be an issue. The potions in her system will deplete, but some should still be coursing through her by then.”
“What’s happening, then?” asked Theodore. Draco moisturised beside his own bed. “Is she rejecting you? Realising that you’re an arse?”
“Not in so many words. But her caution is resurfacing.” Blaise stood and stretched his tired limbs. The heat from the fireplace spread around the room, and his chill had begun to dissipate. “It shouldn’t be an issue. Luna won’t realise what is happening to her – she’ll think her behaviour down to magical creatures that don’t exist.”
Theodore snickered derisively as Draco combed his pale blond hair to the side.
“You find the situation of others humorous,” said Draco. “Yet, you have failed to settle on your own prize.”
“All the good ones are taken,” he said. “Blaise has got Luna, you’ve got Granger, Pucey’s claimed the Weasellete. The ones that left aren’t worth the hassle.”
“Only if you bother courting them,” said Draco darkly. “When the time comes, you can claim your prize, and forget the repercussions. Blaise has chosen to court and seduce his prematurely, but it isn’t necessary.”
“What about you, Drake?” said Theodore challengingly. “Aren’t you finding time to woo your mudblood between classes, essays, and your oh-so-secret mission?”
Blaise tutted from his bed, whilst filing his nails. “Thoughtless Theodore – prying into Draco’s secret mission can get you killed before you even have the chance to pick a prize from the pile. I advise you exercise a smidgen of caution.”
“We’re around friends,” said Theodore unashamedly.
“Friends who will slit your throat without a second thought,” winked Blaise.
Draco slipped his arms into a fitted sweater before he pulled it over his head. “Ready?”
“Give a man a moment to get pretty,” replied Blaise. He slid off the bed and fiddled with his impeccably combed hair in the mirror.
“Where you off to so early?” asked Theodore.
“Final touches,” said Blaise cryptically. “We should be gone a while. Don’t wait up.”
Theodore smirked. “And I suppose you’re finishing off your day with Luna luring?”
“Not me,” said Blaise innocently. “But Draco does have a most anticipated engagement lined up at midnight.”
Theodore turned his stare to Draco. “What happened to seducing them once they’re ours?”
A rare, frightening smile graced his lips. Theo felt a pang of anxiety strike his stomach.
Darkly, Draco asked, “Who said anything about seduction?”
“Ow!” said Ron. “Ger off, Harry!”
Harry muttered an apology and removed his heel from Ronald’s toes. It was a cramped space, the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. Each step was crooked and crumbling from decay. But Harry and Ron climbed the wobbly steps, side-by-side, and each held their wands in their hands.
“This better not take too long,” moaned Ron. He wasn’t happy about being snared into the scheme. He made it known. “Lav wanted to hang out tonight. If we’re quick, I can get back to the common room before she goes to bed.”
“Honestly, Ron,” said Harry. “There’s more to life than snogging Lavender Brown.”
“I know that. But she’s not just ‘Lavender Brown’, mate. She’s my girlfriend. I’d like for you and Hermione to get used to that.”
“What d’you mean by that?” grunted Harry. They reached the top of the stairs, and entered the circular stone room. Harry wandered to the glassless window and looked outside.
“Don’t think I don’t know,” said Ron. “You and Hermione … Well, it’s always been the three of us. But now, with Lavender, I’m not around as much as I used to be. But you both think it’ll pass. It won’t. I really like her.”
Harry shook his head subtly. “You really like snogging her, you mean.”
“It’s something you do with your girlfriend,” said Ron, and he joined Harry by the draughty window. “Look, I know what Hermione thought. About me and her … And now, with Lav–”
Harry but in, “Merlin, Ron! I don’t give a shit what you do with Lavender. Go out with her, eat her face, let her eat yours. Who gives a shit? Not me, and not Hermione. We’re focusing on bigger things, and you should be too. But, instead, you’re waffling on about your girlfriend again.”
Harry paused and stepped to the side. He smacked his palm against the window.
“Look outside,” he snapped. Ron rolled his eyes and poked his head out of the window. “See that?” asked Harry. “That’s Hermione with Malfoy. That’s why we’re here – what we should be focusing on. Not you, or your stupid relationship. We’re here to keep an eye out on Hermione. That’s it. So pull your head out of your arse and at least pretend you give a damn about her.”
Ron turned his piercing blue eyes on Harry. Hotly, he said, “If you cared so much about Hermione, you wouldn’t have sent her down there with Malfoy in the first place. It’s not like Malfoy’s just gonna hand over his secrets to her, show her his dark mark, and be like ‘Yeah, sure thing Granger, I’ll sign a full confession, and hope you can visit me in Azkaban when the mood strikes!’.”
Harry stared levelly at him. “It’s Hermione we’re talking about. She’ll be fine.”
A cold, silky voice slithered from behind them. “Not for long.”
The words jolted them with fright and made them both spin around with their wands whipped out.
But it was too late.
The soft material crinkled between her fingers. Hermione fiddled with the picnic blanket and eyed her companion warily. Each move Malfoy made had her muscles tense and fingers itching to hex. But, he smoothly poured her a glass of butterbeer and handed it to her – no hexes required, yet.
Hermione never much cared for the Quidditch pitch. She wasn’t an active fan of the sport it was meant for, and barely enjoyed watching the game unfold. It wasn’t any different at night – it was only a pitch in darkness.
Malfoy seemed to think she’d feel otherwise. The stars above twinkled, the pitch was vacant and smoothly calm, the picnic blanket – made of fine material – was decorated by plates of snacks and bottles of drinks. It could be considered romantic to some. But to Hermione? Most certainly not.
His eyes were to blame. The grey glowed beneath the moonlight, highlighting the cruelty that shadowed them. He wasn’t trying to woo her, to court her, to stir feelings. His endgame was entirely opposite – he was evoking fear in the calmest, sweetest, nicest of ways.
“You’re not thirsty?” he asked, and eyed the untouched glass of butterbeer in her hand.
“No,” she said. “Not particularly.”
“Drink,” was his response, cold and demanding.
Hermione sipped the warm liquid, but watched him over the rim of the glass. He saluted with his, barely, and swigged. It was uncomfortable, awkward. She itched to leave, but felt a little reassured that Harry and Ron were in the Astronomy Tower watching over her.
“Here I am,” she said. She put the glass on a plate. “I held up my end of the deal. Where’s the cloak?”
Draco’s fingers drummed against the leather bag at his side. It was in there, where the picnic snacks and blanket had been moments ago.
Hermione held out her hand. Malfoy smirked, and scolded lightly, “Oh, I don’t think so, Granger. I give you this now, and our date is over before it has even begun. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I won’t,” she said. “Because you’re right. I want nothing more than to leave. Not only is this extraordinarily awkward, I simply don’t like you. I don’t enjoy your company.”
“Even after I go to so much effort to please you,” he said with insincere sadness, “you show no appreciation.”
Hermione laughed derisively. “This, all of this – the stars, the full moon, the picnic on the Quidditch Pitch – is fake. It isn’t real, it’s false. A charade.”
“And if it is?” he asked. “What would be the purpose? Every charade has a purpose, does it not?”
“I’ll get back to you on that,” she said darkly.
“Please,” he smirked.
A silence fell. Hermione looked up at the sky, if only to avoid his heated stare. His eyes lingered on her face, and refused to drift elsewhere. After a while, whether it be seconds or minutes, he shattered the quiet between them.
“When I was young,” he said, rolling up his sleeves, “I had a sister.”
Hermione, startled, looked at him. The curiousness shone in her eyes, and through the darkness of the night. He only calmly returned her stare. His eyes betrayed nothing. She glanced down at his forearms, searching for any sings of the dark mark. But his skin … it wasn’t smooth, but it was blurred. As though a glamour charm coated it.
“Her name was Cassiopia. We called her Cassie.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Hermione suspiciously, quickly scanning his arms again.
“Why would you?” he replied icily. “Not many are privy to the knowledge of my life, or, more specifically, my past.”
“And you have decided that I should be privy?”
A flash of danger ignited his eyes. They glowed through the darkness. Hermione gulped discreetly, and resisted her gaze from moving to the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy’s eyes were too steady, they burned into hers, reading her secrets.
“Cassie,” he continued, “was what a Malfoy female should be. Stunning, powerful, and cunning. She was only one year younger than myself.”
He paused and sipped his butterbeer. Hermione took the chance to squint through the night and inspect his arms. But the way he moved, she barely rested her gaze on where the dark mark would be.
“When I was seven years old, my father purchased me a Nimbus 1000. It was the first of its kind. Fast, dangerous, and not to be released for another six months.”
Hermione noted that there wasn’t an ounce of bragging in his tone. He was just telling her how it was – stating facts. It was a sharp contrast to the Malfoy she’d known throughout the years, the whiny boy who bragged and boasted whenever he had the chance. Now, he was a cold man, filled with indifference, and it showed in his cool tone.
“Theodore wrote to me the day after,” he said. “He demanded that he visit at once to assess the quality of the broom. I allowed it, eager to display it. He came, we took turns flying it, we played a spot of Quidditch. Of course, that lasted an estimated twenty minutes or so.”
Hermione made no attempt to refrain the weary sigh that whooshed out of her. His simmering eyes burned into her, but he continued as if she hadn’t been rude.
“Cassie came outside,” he added. “And the moment she did, Theodore flocked to her. She was, after all, the true reason Theodore wished to visit. I realised that when I watched him join my dear sister and forget that the Nimbus 1000 had even existed. I followed, but I didn’t attempt to join in in their fun. What Cassie considered fun, I thought dull and tedious – playing with porcelain dolls, drawing on the walls.”
“Amazing story,” mumbled Hermione. Her eyes shifted to the bag where the cloak resided. Was it time to leave yet? Could she have the cloak returned now? Time dragged by her, mocked her.
“It is far from over,” replied Malfoy. The dangerous warning to his tone demanded her gaze. She shivered under the intensity of his stare. Her fingers inched into her robes, where they sat folded beside her. Wood grazed her fingertips – her wand. Now, she’d wait until he was distracted enough for her to issue a quiet anti-glamour charm. She was certain that he was concealing the dark mark on his arm, and the main purpose of the date was for her to clarify his position in the Death Eater Army.
“I waited,” he said, “until Cassie grew tired of Theodore. Normally, that took perhaps an hour or so. With Blaise, Cassie wouldn’t tire for hours. Sometimes, not at all. She was truly fond of Blaise, and he her. But Theodore? Not as much.”
He placed the butterbeer on the plate, where Hermione’s stood untouched.
“When Theodore returned to the gardens, I was there, waiting. He feigned interest in the broom again, but I could see the wounds in his eyes. He wanted to return to Cassie.”
Malfoy leaned forward and plucked a sugar stick from a bowl. He offered it to Hermione, but the glint in his eyes showed that it wasn’t a request. She took it reluctantly and suckled the end. Malfoy smirked and draped his forearm over his knee, looking rather like an arrogant prince.
“I essentially forced Theodore to ride the broom once more before he left. He did, and I waited patiently for my moment. It wasn’t until he flew way higher than the tallest tower of Malfoy Manor that I struck.”
The end of the sugar stick hovered near Hermione’s lips. She gaped at the calm cruelty that came from his words, and radiated from his sharp eyes.
“I hexed the broom, and it bucked him off. I watched him fall from the sky, hit walls and roofs, until he crashed through the skylight of the indoor pool. Had he not have been above the pool, he would have died, I imagine. He was very lucky.”
“You were seven?” she whispered, aghast. She clutched her wand within the concealment of the robes and aimed it at him. He didn’t seem to notice. “And you tried to kill your friend? Out of jealousy?”
“Jealousy,” he repeated with a hint of curiosity. As though he’d never heard the word before, and rolled it around it tongue to get a feel for it. “I don’t know it,” he added. “The definition, I know; but, the meaning? Not entirely.”
Draco grabbed the second bottle of butterbeer and filled his own glass. He topped up hers, too, but there was no need.
Hermione dropped the sugar stick, and mouthed the words to her spell. Draco stiffened, just as black grew at his inner forearm. Hermione shoved her wand back into her robes and feigned innocence. She stretched her arms above her head, desperate to hide the fear in her eyes as the dark mark grew on his arm. She made to stand, and issue her departure. She couldn’t sit with the psychopath another moment. Before she could climb to her feet, a shriek tore through her.
Hermione was slammed into the dirt at the edge of the blanket. Her skull thudded off the soggy soil, and the puddle she landed in splashed up around her. Dirt splattered her face, as well as the one who mirrored her – Draco pinned her to the mud by the wrists, and snarled down at her.
The thud of her heart thrummed in her eardrums. Her wide eyes gazed up at his narrowed ones, and her body welcomed the shivers that ran down her.
“I hurt Theodore, not out of jealousy,” he whispered, coldly. “But due to his deceit. The false intentions of which he visited, the lies that coated his visit. Had he have stated that he wished to visit my sister, no harm would’ve come to him. Yet, he lied to me, used me to get to something else.”
“Malfoy, get off–” Hermione’s softly spoken words were thwarted. His face suddenly drew closer, until their noses touched – and he hissed a threatening sound against her lips, like a snake would do before it struck. Warning or no warning, he would strike either way.
“Shut up, mudblood,” he seethed. The fury swirled in his eyes. “Lest you meet the fate that Theodore did. But, will be as lucky as he was?”
“I didn’t lie to you,” she said. “I was honest about why I accepted the date offer. I want the cloak – it was our deal.”
The darkness didn’t fade from his eyes; it was like watching melted iron bubble and churn within pits of black. The shudders didn’t relent; they took root in her spine and almost rattled her against the mud she lay in. But Harry and Ron would help – they would see from the tower, and fire hexes down at Malfoy. She had nothing to fear. Yet, if that were true, why was her body quaking beneath his?
“You were honest about that,” he whispered dangerously, “the same way Theo was honest about viewing the broom. What you really wanted,” his face inched closer and their lips touched, “was to know if I wore this.”
Slowly, her eyes strained in their sockets to look at the black blur. His forearms lay in the mud beside her head, flanking her, as he gripped her wrists tightly. There it was, clear as the stars in the night sky, darker than Malfoy’s soul. The dark mark.
A scream escaped her as he suddenly snatched her hair and hoisted her up. Malfoy stood, yanking her back against his chest, and tugged her hair back until her neck threatened to snap. They faced the Astronomy Tower. His lips touched her ear as she shivered, coated in mud, and he hushed softly.
“I never did mind the mud,” he whispered. “I often enjoyed playing in it, when I was young.”
“If you don’t release me, Malfoy, I swear-”
A burst of light exploded in her eyes. It was pain; blinding, and agonising. Her lips parted, but couldn’t issue screams or cries. All that came were whimpers.
Draco had snatched her arm and twisted it around her back. Something had popped in her arm – it hadn’t dislocated, but it was close to it. tears welled in her eyes as she silently cried, looking up at the tower, begging Harry and Ron to help. But they didn’t.
And Hermione knew why when Malfoy growled into the air, “If there is one thing I loathe more than being cheated, Granger, it’s having an audience whilst being cheated.”
Suddenly, the entire castle erupted in a thunderous boom. It seemed to shake in the ground – it did shake in the ground. Hermione wobbled. Malfoy was the only thing keeping her upright. That is, until he struck the back of her head with such force that she was knocked out immediately, and collapsed to the ground in a limp heap.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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