Good Whiskey
Draco:
What a stupid, irritating little bitch! Where'd she get off speaking to him like that, no one spoke down on him like that. No one but his father. He was long gone, went crazy after getting out of Azkaban, useless to the dark lord and murdered right in front of his eyes. His mother had spiraled without her husband, drowned herself in alcohol before throwing herself off a fucking cliff.
Smash.
Why the fuck did he even bring her here? Why didn’t he just let Nott do his thing and fuck her off? Stupid.
Smash. Another bottle thrown at the wall.
Why was a mudblood infuriating him so much?
Smash.
Fuck her, fuck this. He'd be presenting her in front of the dark lord come tomorrow. She was worthless, weak. So useless even the order didn’t want her. Or, an idea sparked behind his eyes. What if she helped him create attacks against the order? No that was useless, even if she contributed, the old voldie wouldn’t have his army attack them, his pride too valuable. Then why was she here?
Smash.
"Oi mate, you're destroying all the good whiskey!" Theo giggled at Draco's temper tantrum.
"Piss off, I paid for it." Begrudgingly Draco picked the next bottle up and took it to the couch across the drawing room, lighting a cigarette.
Theo grabbed a bottle, holding it like a newborn baby, "It's okay baby the angry man can't hurt you anymore."
Draco resisted the urge to throw the bottle in his hands at his fathead.
"Gentleman, I pray you aren't acting like toddlers," Blaise Zabini strode into the drawing room paying little attention to the mess an old house elf is now cleaning.
"Not me! Just Draco," Theo put his palm up to 'cover' his 'whispers' leaning into Zabini "He's in desperate need of a shag, maybe that’s why he's got a mudblood locked up in one of the rooms in the right wing."
A smile played on his lips before he replied, "Nott, my oldest friend, if you don't shut the fuck up I fear Malfoy may just rip your throat out," Blaise chuckled slighting before claiming a seat, "Mudblood hey? Any significance?"
"It's Hermione Granger, and no, I will not be shagging her. I wouldn’t touch even with your cock," Draco pointed at Nott with the end of cigarette.
“Like as in the Hermione Granger? Merlin, what are you going to do with her?,” Blaise claimed his own bottle of rum before seating himself across from Draco.
“She’ll be useful, in some way or another,” Draco glanced at the time wondering if she’d decided to eat yet, or if she’s still on a hunger strike.
“She was always smart I guess, pretty for a mudblood too. Well, that’s if you didn't look at her hair, “ Blaise chuckled, setting up a game of chess with Theo.
“See Draco, I’m not the only one who thought that.’
“Nott, please shut the fuck up for once,” Draco placed down his glass opting to rub a knuckle into his temple attempting to expel the headache.
Both men rolled their eyes and turned their attention to their game of chess. Draco watched as he pondered what he’d do with Granger - whether or not to hand her over to the dark lord. At this point, himself, Blaise and Theo were over the war. Draco just wanted to be free to do whatever he liked, Blaise and Pansy wanted to have kids and Theo… Well he was just down for anything. One thing they all had in common, they were all sick of the dark lord's shit. With that Draco stretched out his legs before standing back up and heading towards the right wing.
Hermione:
Hermione didn’t want to give in. Every instinct was screaming at her that this was wrong. She was held captive in Malfoy manor of all places, the same place Bellatrix had carved mudblood into her skin. She faintly touched the scar now, what use was she to Malfoy? Or Voldemort for that matter? Any and all intel she had on the order was at least three years outdated. All she'd done was trot around England and try not get herself killed. Her will to live surprised her, anyone else probably would've ended it right there. Hermione had lost everything, her parents, Ron hated her, the order wanted her dead, Harry was busy knocking up Ginny and driving himself up the wall with false leads. The warm meal invited her in. Might as well, she couldn’t get out, why deny herself food too? Weak, her brain screamed at her begging for her to grasp some self-control or common sense. She'd already augured with herself if she was stronger for accepting her situation or just plain stupid.
She sat herself on the bench in front of the bay window, Malfoy had left the window open. She'd tried to put her hand out the window, but was met with a solid barrier of invisible wards. The sun was setting, in any other world it would be beautiful. The golden rays sprinkled across the flower garden below her room – prison cell was a better name for it honestly.The sun hit the various water features, and statues in just the right way. It felt peaceful. Exhaustion set in her bones, her eyelids felt heavy, sleep was creeping up on her. Hermione stared at the bed across from her, it looked so inviting and so comforting. She almost couldn’t resist sinking into the mountain of duck feathers and cotton... No, she'd already eaten the food she couldn’t give into the bed no matter how inviting it seemed. Her body begged for sleep, Hermione forced it away for as long as possible she couldn’t let her guard down, not now not here. But as the night went on her eyelids fell and she’d curled up on the bench as sleep closed in.
Hermione had become a light sleeper, you had to be in war, your entire life could change in a second. So when the light from the hallway hit her eyelids, they fluttered open without warning. A tall figure stood in the door frame, the moonlight reflected off his skin, it was almost ethereal, the way the light delicate licked the heights of his cheekbones illuminating the hard lines forged by war and age. She watched him stand there for a moment, neither of them moving.
“I see you decided not to starve to death today,” he flicked his wrist and banished the tray which held her dinner.
“Why did you bring me here? Of all people I would’ve thought Voldemort's right hand man would notice my absence on the battlefield.” She huffed at him, sitting herself up.
“In fact I did notice, why? Did your precious order turn against mudbloods too?” A smirk played underneath the surface.
“No, that’s no-” he cut her off.
“Or did Wesley break up with you? Or was it Potter?” he was trying to get under her skin, her brow furrowed in frustration.
“No, for your information I broke up with Ronald years ago and further the order did not turn against mudbloods. Just me.” she spat the words with more anger than she’d originally expected, but saying those words out loud for the first time hurt her more than she expected. Why was she even telling him this in the first place?
Draco crossed the room, closing the space between them to gaze out the window. He folded his hands behind his back “Well that is interesting. What’d you do, punch old Kingsley in the face or what?” He cocked a brow towards her.
He’s being abnormally friendly? This is a trap it had to be, but to gain what? Leverage? If her friends wanted her back they would’ve tracked her down by now.
“No.”
“Tell me more, I’m curious.” He continued to stare out the window.
“What are you getting at? Why do you care?”
“I don’t care sweetheart, I’m bored.”
“Stop calling me sweetheart.” Hermione bit her lip, her thoughts were muddled, she’d exhausted every logical explanation possible.
“Admit it, you like it. If you don’t, that gives me all the more reason not to stop.”
Hermione grunted, turning away from him. What did she have to lose?
“They sentenced me to death, if I didn't agree to kill on command.”
“And you didn’t agree why?”
She looked at him with confusion before realising that she was in fact speaking to one of the most ruthless killers in all of England, or more so the continent.
“I’m a healer first, soldier second.” she put it simply, “to take someone's life away, that's just not..” she trailed off.
“I’ve seen you kill people Granger,” his brow furrowed.
Seen me kill people how? Had he been keeping tabs on me? “That’s different, that’s a life or death situation. The order wanted me to kill or capture every death eater I encountered.”
“It’s not that much different.” she turned, trying to study him, find his ulterior motive.
“For you maybe.” She rolled eyes, turning back away from him.
“I’ll let you think you’re so different and caring for a minute. But you’ll soon realise that you and I? Are not so different.” His cold grey eyes bore into her soul.
He produced a phial from his pocket, a plain anti-magic potion, great.
“I think you know I'll make you drink it, I'd suggest you do it willingly.” He threw the potion into her lap.
“Bottoms up.” she stared at him coldly while she down the disgusting mixture. He turned and left without another word.
He left her mind swimming with more questions than answers, what did he mean? Why did he want to know about the order? He’d noticed she’d gone missing years ago. She curled back up in the bay window and let her mind wander piecing together whatever the fuck just happened.
Draco:
He wandered the halls for a moment, stopping past the painting of himself and his mother. His father used to stand behind them, now vanished due to his betrayal to Voldemort. His chest felt heavy, as it always did at this time of the night. He rested a palm across his chest, failing to relieve the pressure. He made his way to his study, situated at the top of the right wing tower. He climbed the steps with ease despite the pressure in his chest building. Once he opened the doors in one smooth action as he let out a deep breath. Draco sat in the larger brown leather chair, wondering what to do with Granger.
He’d find out more about what was happening with the order. News was few and far between these days, not even Rita Skeeter cared to write anymore. It was all the same. He needed more proof that the entire wizarding society was falling apart before he made his move, he knew that only family’s with land and titles had a home anymore. Those who didn’t lived solely protecting Volemorts quarters. For order members he could only assume they lived in the safe houses the order had scattered around the country.
He didn’t know what he’d do with the information yet, but it was something. A start. He wasn’t just keeping her here for no reason anymore, the cogs were turning and a plan was being created, a plan that didn’t work without Granger. There wasn’t a witch or wizard in the world that could pull through with this absolutely insane idea in his head without the help of Hermione Granger.