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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
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He left home immediately upon waking. He did not doubt his abrupt departure would result in an angry confrontation between himself and his mother at a much later date, though he failed to understand why.
Why did she persist with the pretense? Wasn’t he an adult now, a successful adult might he add?
Malfoy had not let a few defeats crush his will to dominate. As long as he lived, the war would never truly be over.
He went directly to the Ministry. His title was created to protect the very ideals he loathed but Draco was more than capable; he knew how to bend anything to his will. And it was quite easy, given the sheer amount of power he wielded.
Glancing about he saw that that the Ministry was empty; not a soul in sight. He liked it that way. It would make it easier to finish his business when not forced to endure the presence of so many worthless insects.
Silently he praised the principles that helped ground his sanity. The fact that it was a sin to tolerate weakness in anyone, let alone in himself. He could erase it from his person, but it was much more difficult to eradicate in others. Once he allowed himself to hope that a new world would be built, granting him the freedom to see these ideals embedded in a society of only the best.
But it was not to be. He clenched his fists, the Ministry itself a bitter reminder of that failure every day. Forced to pass beneath monuments erected in honor of a disgusting half-blood who had somehow managed to earn the favor of some celestial being for no power on earth could support his success. It was illogical that he should fail when he was clearly the superior being, and even now fed the flames of hatred within.
Malfoy strove for perfection; his enemies accused him of everything from bigotry to seeking to spread chaos. It only showed how simple-minded and deplorable his detractors were. Malfoy was anything but a bigot, and the least likely candidate to support chaos. No one could see that this world was chaos; a constant state of flux and pain supported by a system seeking to normalize imperfection and promote evil.
It took every ounce of his control to ignore the impulse to destroy the statute of Dumbledore. Because he needed to blend, at least until he could make his move.
No one seemed to see the truth because it would mean sacrfiice. Malfoy understood just how easy it was to embrace the mudbloods.
And they were not deplorable simply because of their impurity, no, it went so much deeper than that. They were simple-minded, little better than high-functioning animals. It stood to reason that purebloods, such as himself, were the only individuals capable to using and truly respecting the power that the very purity of their blood granted.
Only a truly weak and miserable creature would keep the company of a mudblood, because mudbloods desired more than what birth decreed was their rightful lot in life: to submit and serve his kind, or die.   Why else would someone as pitiful and useless as Longbottom support the dangerous idea that mudbloods were worthy to be treated as equals? Because any wizard’s flaws were unnoticeable when masked by mudblood filth. No, the world would always be a dangerous place when decisions were made by inferior and unintelligent creatures.
The war was lost not because they were wrong but because Lord Voldemort himself was a half-blood. Doomed from the beginning, his fatherr liked to say. It was the truth. It was a sound argument, yet so many disagreed. Even he hesitated when it came to prove his loyalty during the war. But that hesitation was not simply fear it was his dilemma: stand firm and die beside Voldemort, or fake a change of heart and live to fight another day. Obviously the latter had won out.
He rolled his shoulders, irritated that he was still suffering from pain. He injured his torso somehow; there were bruises on his arms—the sign of a struggle. But he could not remember getting a fight. Although he did recall his father dumping him into bed before leaving. He would have to be more careful when he sought solace in spirits. It was humiliating to have one’s father collect them while in a drunken stupor.
He kicked the door of his office open. And for once was rendered dumb.
There was an intruder. A tall man with hair much like his own stood, his back to him. At first he thought it was his father. His first thought was to call him out:
‘What the fuck are you doing h—‘
The stranger turned—because he was indeed a stranger—revealing that a mask covered the upper half of his face. A rather ornate, intricate silver mask with archaic etchings carved into it.
How strange, he would later recall, that even his eyes were covered. There was no obvious way he could be seen. His eyes were hidden. Everything, excluding his lips and the tip of his nose, were covered. But the stranger--this other--recognized him. Knew him.
‘You choose to grace us with your presence,’ The stranger whispered, its voice…not sounding like any human he had ever met.
It was like the air...light, without substance...and not at all inhuman, despite appearances. Could it be a phantom? An illusion? Anything was possible. Malfoy searched his mind, for any hint as to who this person was. But it was drawing a blank. Which meant either his memory was faulty [and unlikely] or this was the first time they were meeting.
But then how could that be, when the stranger knew him? Draco hated to think of himself as being spied on, but what other conclusion was there to draw? He had many enemies, and one of them was apparently here to collect.
Ever calm, Malfoy moved forward, and in doing so, entered a whole other world. One that smelled of death, of emptiness, and was entirely gray. Without color.They stared at one another from across a great abyss, and he did not have to turn to know that he could not leave.
Interesting.
Draco casually moved closer, analyzing everything, from the moon-like terrain to the creature standing across from him.
He had encountered many unusual things in his twenty-five years of life, but nothing so strange as this.
‘Care to tell me how you entered a sealed room? Or better yet, why you brought me to such an unimaginative location?’ He kept his voice calm, detached, barely managing to hide his own impatience, 'This is by far the most unattractive place I have step foot in.'
The stranger smiled. It spoke volumes. It communicated calm, patience, and an irritating sense that he was being patronized. Or condescended to. An unforgivable offense in Draco Malfoy's world.
‘I am here because you interfered.’
Draco raised an eyebrow, wanting to rip his head from his neck, and imagined this. Dreamily, he asked, ‘Tell me, did I cause you such inconvenience that you chose to break in rather than come by appointment? I am very busy.’ What a nice thing it would be, to rip his throat out.
‘More than you would admit.’
‘And now you are here. How very…quaint. But I must make guesses since you are proving to be very evasive…I'll make a wild guess and assume I offended you?’ He imagined severing his spinal cord, and almost sighed..
The intruder shrugged prettily, and he felt his skin crawl. Whoever he was, he did not like him. In fact, he felt a hatred so deep and so powerful that he was very nearly paralyzed by it.
Quickly he recovered, continuing lightly: ‘Tell me your name, freakling, because anyone able to break my barrier spells is at least worth remembering.’ And maybe after I kill you I can find your family, should you have them, and tear them limb from limb.
His grin broadened, ‘What an amusing dream you are.’
Malfoy felt the corners of his lips twitch, ‘A dream, am I?’
‘I decided it must be so.’
Unable to fake indifference, Malfoy leaned closer with interest, ‘Then I must not be here. And yet,' he spread his arms wide, '...and yet here I am.'
The stranger again shrugged, ‘It seems so.’
Malfoy almost laughed out loud. What a comedy the past twenty-four hours was turning out to be, ‘If I am a dream, then you are a puzzle because I am trying to figure you out.’
The other seemed to find this amusing as well, ‘How about a game. I assume you like them?’
Malfoy barely suppressed a smile, 'Not only are you skilled at circumventing my locks, but you are very perceptive.' He considered this strange turn of events. Why not indulge in a little game? He would win. This was not arrogance, this was merely a statement of fact. Few could compete with him, and the very rare few who might best him with magic were always undercut by Malfoy's ruthlessness. He was unbound by the chains of morality.
He shrugged. 'Very well. What kind of game would you like to play? Somehow I suspect you will offer up something...unique.' ‘
'I seek to end my dream…   ‘
'To end me…which can only mean I solve the puzzle..if we are basing this off of our desires, correct?’
   ‘Yes!’ The other clapped his hands together, excited.
Malfoy was amused, and given his current frustrations, willing to take a risk. He knew he should kill him. It was what he had been planning to do, and would have up until a moment ago. But something changed. It was imperceptible, unexplainable, but something had changed. His interest had been piqued, but more importantly, he felt compelled. He did not believe in a higher power but it almost seemed fated. It was irrational...but it was entertaining. And a pleasant distraction from the constant disappointment that that become his reality.
‘If I win, you accept the terms of defeat, as I decide them.’ He said this congenially, ‘Which is, of course, death.’
The other cocked his head to the side, his smile replaced by the faintest upward turn of the lips, ‘..if I should win, you disappear…’
Malfoy shrugged. It sounded fair, ‘It seems we have the same end in mind.’ The other moved away from him, gliding across the floor with an effortless grace Malfoy threw his head back, staring at an open gray sky, ‘Your name, stranger?’
There was no answer, and he was not surprised.
When Malfoy looked up, he was alone, in the Ministry, the intruder leaving as mysteriously as he had appeared.
No, he was not surprised at all.
I am going to kill you.
For not the first time that day, he smiled.
_________

Hope you enjoyed. And remember, in my stories things always become worse...and then worse...XD
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Deception