Truce?
Draco:
He’d sat at his desk for hours, going over and over his conversation with Crouch. He needed to know more, he’d found his out, the end to the war. He’d just have to well overthrow the most powerful wizard of all time, kill Shacklebolt, Potter, and however many death eaters that didn’t fall to his feet immediately. Yeah super easy, not fucking impossible at all. He tapped the edge of his ring against the table, Granger was the key to this fucked up plan he’d concoded in his head. But she’d need to trust him? He didn’t even trust her for fucks sake. He hadn’t slept for days, the fatigue planted a headache firmly behind his eyes. Draco stared at the blank piece of parchment in front of him. Hermione Granger was the only person who’d be able to out smart the dark lord, before she left - or was exiled, from the order Voldemort was in shambles. Her carefully planned attacks, baits, traps had diminished his army. Draco pushed his sleeves up, pouring himself a glass of whisky. He swirled the liquid around the glass for a moment, studying the fluid movements before hurling it at the door, shards of glasses decorating the floor.
He made his way to the drawing room, Theo, Daphne, Blaise and Pansy were already there.
“Jesus you’re a right mess,” Pansy looked him up and down
“Piss off,” Draco made his way straight to the bar cart and retrieved a bottle of fire whisky.
“Whatever, you’re so boring,” she turned her attention back to the chess game between Nott and Zabini.
“I know what I’m doing with Granger, figured you pricks would like to know,” he took a swing.
“Finally, I thought she had you by the balls for a second,” Blaise chuckled. “What’s the plan then?”
Draco rolled his eyes “She’s not been a member of the order for three years, hence why I haven’t handed her over.”
Theo pretended to spit out his drink “Then why is she here then?”
A smile lingered on Draco’s lips “You’ll all find out in due time, the mudblood is more than she seems.”
Hermione:
When she’d turned up for dinner the small house elf was ecstatic that she was okay, fretting over her coat and even went as far to run a warm bath for her before she left. Hermione accepted the bath; it wasn’t from Malfoy after all. When she’d returned to the room a pair of green satin pyjamas sat on the bed. It’d have to do. The warm meal was delicious, she had to admit. The breeze chilled her bones as it passed through the window, she thought maybe if she called the elf’s name she’d close it for her. Before she had a chance Malfoy knocked on her door, opening it even though Hermione hadn’t answered.
The window closed, the fire restarted and the candles on the bedside lit themselves. Was he in her head?
“What are your demands, mudblood?”
“That you stop calling me that for one,” she snapped back.
“Done.” Done? Was it that easy?
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch, just trying to be a good host.” He walked over to the window, but didn’t open it. Simply sat down. He was a mess, his white shirt was untucked, buttons done up incorrectly, some not done up at all. His usual perfectly combed hair disheveled falling back into his eyes and over his forehead.
“I want books, and clothes that aren’t black or green,” she huffed, standing up and opting to sit on the foot of the bed.
“See told you the bed wouldn’t eat you,” Hermione sucked in a deep breath trying to contain her frustration and ignore how handsome he looked. It wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed, he’d always been attractive. Malfoy was always tall, his muscles were always defined from quidditch, the slim toned build he’d always had now looked a bit different. He seemed rougher, age and war does that, his biceps now bulged out obviously, but so did his quads… she snapped her mind back into focus, she could not be checking out a fucking death eater right now.
“Fine, done and done.” he tilted his head back, resting it on the windowsill.
“Seriously, what’s the catch?”
“Like I said sweetheart, there’s no catch.”
Hermione pulled her legs onto the bed; she chewed on her lip trying to think of what she could possibly ask for?
“Why am I here?” She looked up to find him already looking at her.
“Because we both want the same thing,” the same thing? What could they both possibly want?
She stayed quiet, no longer wanting to participate in the conversation.
A groan erupted from his throat; she snapped her head up to look at him.
“Jesus Granger, fight me, argue, do something. Fucking slap me across the face!” he stood, closing the distance between them, “where did you fight go? Who took it because I will not hesitate to take it the fuck back.”
Huh? Why did he want her to fight him? Why did he care so much? Why did he care full stop?
“I-”
He rolled his tongue across his teeth, his eyes darting across each inch of her face.
“Where did your fight go Gryffindor?”
Hermione was speechless, she sat there, brows furrowed staring into his grey eyes for who knows how long till he released her from that stare. When he finally did, she crawled her way to the pillows on the bed letting herself sink into the mattress under the blankets. The pillows were charmed to perfectly mould themself to her head, yet sleep did not find her easily, she lay awake wondering for herself who had taken her fight.
Hermione woke to the now familiar rattle of the silver tray appearing at the foot of her bed. Paired with her breakfast, was a book and a phial of anti-magic potion. A small tag swung tied around the bottle.
‘Bottoms up sweetheart’
She picked up the book, another one she’d recognized, Advanced Potion-Making. She’d had her own copy, decorated with scribbles in every margin, small notes and tweaks to each potion. She flicked through the pages to see similar scribbles to hers, only in the soft cursive handwriting of Draco Malfoy. But if he wanted a fight, she’d give him one.
Draco:
Theo was due to arrive in his office right about -
“Hey stranger, missed me?” Theo was all too happy for this hour of the morning.
“This is serious,” Draco clasped his hands together on the table. He’d spent the night trying to organize his plan on paper, get the idea out of his head.
“Is it about the mudblood?” Theo kicked his feet up on the table.
“She has a name, and yes it is.” Draco pulled out the piece of parchment he was working on.
“Ohhhhh so Granger does have you pussy whipped, that didn't take long,” Theo smiled brightly, too brightly.
“No, Granger does not have me pussy whipped,” he said it in a bored tone but merlin the thought- shit. “I have a plan, and I need your assistance. I want to defeat both the order and the dark lord.” He trained his eyes on Theo searching for a reaction, his eyebrow perked up.
“Well. You’ve always been ambitious; didn’t know you were suicidal too.” Nott sat up, taking the conversation seriously for once, “What's the plan then genius. I thought you said that the mud- Granger wasn’t a part of the order anymore?”
“She isn’t, but if she was, we’d all be dead or locked in Azkaban for all of eternity. She’s a vital part of the plan now.” Draco handed the parchment over “First the order, we’d have to get Potter and whoever else is left to switch to our independent side which shouldn’t be hard with Granger on our side. I’m sure they’re still willing to suck her dick.”
Theo looked down at the parchment reading it intently, “Then what, we kill the bald guy and go on our merry way?”
“Blasie needs to be in on it too if we are to rebuild society once the dark lord is dead, he’s a better leader. Besides, society outside of death eaters and order members doesn’t exist anymore. When was the last time you read the paper? The ministry fell and society fell with it.”
“What about mudbloods? Are we keeping them?”
“Yes.” Draco had been expecting it. They’d both been raised in households where their blood purity meant everything.
“Why? They killed my whole family?” He could hear the emotion in Theo’s voice, which was rare. But the whisper of his family hit a nerve Draco preferred not to play with this morning.
“The plan doesn’t work without Granger, Nott. Without her we might as well just accept the war will never end.” Draco watched his jaw twitch. “She will never agree if mudbloods aren’t accepted too.”
Theo let out a huff, “Alright then, I’m in.”
Blaise walked in a minute later.
“Gentleman, why have I been summoned before lunchtime?” Zabini’s sarcastic tone coupled with too wide a smile made him chuckle.
“Malfoy here has a suicide mission for us,” Theo handed the parchment to Blasie.
He looked it over for a minute. Draco watched as his eyes traced the words he’d written.
“I’m in, is the mudblood?”
“Oh Blaise don’t call her thattttt she has a name,” Theo dramatically grabbed Blaises arm, giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes.
Draco ignored the stunt, “No, but she will be.” Both men turned to him. Blasie spoke first.
“What do you mean she’s not in? What have you been doing?”
“Building trust, if she can’t trust me then how would she ever agree to an insane plan with a group of death eaters?”
“I guess that makes sense, don’t fuck it up,” Blaise sighed, turning to leave with Theo.
“She totally has him by the wand if you know what I mean,” Theo half whispered, jerking his hands up and down Zabini’s arm.
“I can still hear you, Nott,” Draco smiled behind his hand, not wanting to give Theo the satisfaction of making him laugh. He’d known they wanted the war over more than he even did. But he hadn’t expected it to be so easy.
Hermione:
Draco knocked on the door at exactly Ten. An hour after breakfast had been served. She’d eaten, but she hadn’t taken the anti-magic potion. When the door opened, she pretended not to notice, focusing her eyes on the elegant handwriting in the margins of the book he’d given her.
“Do we really have to do this?” She heard him pick up the phial of anti-magic. Her eyes stopped but she didn’t look up.
“What do I have to do to make you drink this?” She ignored him again.
She heard the door open again, closing. She let out a breath, before the door swung back open hitting the wall behind it.
“Clothes, different colours. Happy?” The pile of clothes looked inviting; she was still in pyjamas. She never thought she’d be excited to see a pair of jeans again.
“They’ll do.” She wanted to give him a fight, or maybe she just needed to prove to herself she still had one.
“You have no restrictions; you can wander the manor like you can the gardens. The library is downstairs. Doors that are locked are locked for a reason.” He raised his eyebrows waiting for a response.
“Okay.” He crossed the room, sticking the phial out towards her.
“I am trying to keep you safe, and I cannot do that if you don’t drink.” His tone was harder now.
“Safe? I’m locked in a house with a death eater. I wouldn't call that safe?” She glanced at him under her eyelashes, watching as he rubbed the stubble on his chin, his usual clean-cut appearance disheveled.
“Drink the fucking potion Granger,” She continued to stare at her book. A cold hand wrapped around the back of her head, grabbing a fist full of hair. The glass phial pressed against her lips. “Drink.” Dark grey eyes stared back at her before she allowed the liquid to drain down her throat.