The Art of War

“The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.”
Sun Tzu, The Art of War

After using magic to apply more of the salve to Draco's arm, glad that it was a lot more healed than she realized, she carefully pulled on a robe and went to go shower. She needed to clean up. Still, she looked back at him sleeping in bed and couldn't help but notice the slightly softer expression. Damn it, and damn her to hell. He was worming his way inside her head and her feelings. She didn't love him. Didn't think that would ever even be a possibility, but she did care about him. And for better or for worse, he was hers.

The weather outside was overcast, making things seem a little more drear, but she took a seat outside near the gardens, listening to the peacocks and knowing that if they wanted to wander over they would. She had breakfast outside, letting Draco rest. Sat in a sapphire blue dress with a slight slit up the side, her hair in soft waves around her face. Soon, she would need to see that witch again if she wanted the enchantment put back on her locks again.

Everything in the manor was...quiet. Other than the peacocks. And Crookshanks stared out a window, his tail swaying back and forth, as he stared at the garden beyond. She was not about to let him out so he could harass the birds. She didn't know whether he or the peacocks would end up more injured.

A copy of the prophet lay on the table before her as she sipped her tea, paying attention to the windows and doors a little more closely ever since she had noticed that Theo occasionally snuck people into the manor. Then, they often had to sneak their way back out before Draco noticed. It was always rather amusing.

That morning hadn't gone too well for the black-haired man, clutching his shirt as two peacocks rushed him towards the maze rather than the side. There was nothing particularly remarkable about his appearance. A strong jaw and crystal blue eyes, but his physique and overall presentation left very little to be remembered. The type of height and build that easily got lost in a crowd.

A bit of a panic settled in his features as he neared a table set for one, rushing past it with a peahen on his heels.

As the peacocks decided to chase the guest from their home, she snorted before sipping her tea. Watching as her peahen, in particular, chased after the man, she shook her head and moved to stand up. "Trotenoy. Stop that," she scolded as she intervened. The peahen's feathers were on end, seemingly glaring at the man as he raced around.

"Guard birds indeed," she murmured, looking at the man who had rushed by. Now, who might..." But she stared at him for a moment, and her eyes began to widen.

Each of her friends had different disguises they preferred to wear. She had often stayed a brunette, but it was the only thing that stayed the same. Ron tended to go blond when they were hiding, knowing that any redhead would likely be guessed at being a Weasley. Harry had often kept his hair just as dark but changed his eyes. Everyone knew him for his mother's eyes. So he went in the opposite direction of green and often went blue. Just like this man here.

Her heart started hammering as she marched over to him and grabbed his arm, pulling him around the hedge of the maze. "Are you bloody mental?!" She hissed.

A flush struck his cheeks as she spoke. "No idea what you mean," he grinned. He had made the walk of shame out of the manor more times than he could count. What was with this peahen that had decided to corner him alongside another bird with longer tail feathers?

He hadn't expected to see her. Hadn't thought it would happen. They didn't exactly frequent the same parts of the abode.

"Apologies for upsetting your...bird," he added, shifting on his feet and putting on his black t-shirt.

She narrowed her eyes at him, watching him carefully. There were a lot of things she could be wrong about. Like her own husband's level of humanity being one of them.

Lowering her voice, she hissed just loud enough for him to hear. "I'm not a moron, and I'm not being controlled, so are you really going to pull the whole 'I don't know what you're talking about' card?! I can cast a disillusionment right now" She wouldn't. Doing so would risk him. There were far too many Death Eaters in this house at any given time.

The peahen in question still stared at him shrewdly. And when she opened her beak, Hermione cast a quick silencing charm right as her peahen would have screamed, just for that one noise. The last thing she needed was people being alerted.

"We don't have to go that far," he held his hands up in surrender when her wand was up. He'd half expected a curse, but instead, she'd silenced her peacock, and he breathed in shakily.

He had been angry at first, and he might have tried to send a howler, but now, he wasn't sure how he felt. He didn't like it. "Glad you're not controlled?" He wasn't quite sure what else to say. They were out in the open. Anyone could interrupt. Her husband could stroll by.

Running a hand through her hair, she tried to shoo Trotenoy away, but the peahen stayed at her side. Protective thing. At least Petrus wasn't around. She doubted she'd be able to silence him. Running a hand down her face, she let out a slow breath. "Do I want to know how often you've been here?"

She wouldn't say his name and risk anything. Not when his disguise held enough that apparently, no one here had noticed his coming and going.

"Probably not," he admitted, that flush remaining dusting his cheeks. "I should probably go before they find out," he nibbled his lip. He wasn't worried about the Manor half as much as he did the safe house. His heart raced. His oldest friend. A need to say something lingered, but what did he have to say?

Letting go of him and stepping back, she looked conflicted and pained. She wanted to tell him everything, but the vow of silence hung heavily on her. "...Does Theo know?" Calling him by the nickname probably showed just how much she was adjusting to being here, but she didn't care. "...You woke pretty early...the manor shouldn't be active for another half hour or more at least... other than the peafowl..."

“Does he know what? Who he’s sleeping with? Please,” he ran a hand through his hair, and though he tried to play it off, he wasn’t as calm as he would have been. Things were messy. “He’d have killed me himself.” He swallowed down. Either way, he was dead, right? At least Theo was… He couldn’t bring himself to think things.

“Manor might be quiet, but I still have to make it back to where I never left. In my room, not making any noise and pretending like I don’t exist. It was ironic that he’d made it full circle since the Dursleys.

She snorted slightly and sighed, glancing back towards the manor. "Seems we can at least say that Slytherins have taste," she muttered, attempting to play it off before she looked back at him. Why was he risking it if he knew how dead he'd be if he was found out? It had her pulse quicken with anxiety. "They still check in like clockwork?"

Of course, they did. They never stopped, even with their isolation tactics. It made her want to hit Diggory that much harder for all of this. "...I do want to talk to you...if you can manage that at some point..." Even if she couldn't tell him everything, she could tell him something, right?

He wasn’t sure they did. A long time passed since he’d been anything. And Theo, of all people, made him feel…seen. They’d had entire nights just talking in the other’s embrace.

“More erratic since you left,” he admitted. Technically, his house elf would make sure no one suspected anything, but it was still risky.

“About what?” He asked. He hated her at Draco’s side, but he couldn’t do anything about it. “Escaping a sinking ship?” Because he felt it. The constant losses. He’d heard about Seamus, and he hadn’t even bothered to sneak into the dungeons.

Erratic seemed like an understatement. They were getting desperate. It meant that they might try utilizing Harry to try and galvanize the people who still thought they weren't despicable. An ever-shrinking list if the Prophet was to be believed. Hard to trust it when she knew how often it lied.

"Sorry....didn't exactly just leave." She glanced up towards the manor. She couldn't tell him how or why she was picked because she couldn't say anything about Draco's plans, but Merlin, she wished she could.

Looking back at him, she gave a slight nod. "...That, among other things." She missed him. They were so vastly different now. At least they kept him healthy. Out of most of the people in the insurgency, Harry didn't look to bad. Though how much was real and how much was disguise could be debated. "...I'm glad you're still alright...all things considered..."

"We both know I'm on borrowed time," he told her honestly. He didn't want to rally the troupes. Part of him would happily take on the body he'd created. Just bury his past self and happily discuss the limitations of magic between fucks. Those nights were simple. So blatantly useless and yet the most meaningful.

She grimaced. "....I'll come up with something," she said simply, trying to think of something was what she was good at after all. And she wasn't going to watch another of her best friends die if she could help it. There had to be something she could do. Even if it was a little thing.

He threw a glance at her table, the tea, the prophet, and the way she looked back at the manor. "You're happy," he swallowed down. The pictures had certainly been good. Almost too good, but seeing her relaxed, at ease. Whether it was Malfoy or just what he had to offer, there was something more like before about her.

Though at his words she blinked a few times and actually flushed a little. "....More than I was at the safe house," she admitted quietly, not daring to be too loud. "...Wasn't at first," she admitted and looked back at the manor again. Her home. Half hers, half his. Everything Malfoy-related now was, wasn't it?

This was a mess. He had to leave. He should leave. Hell, he should have been gone by now. If he stayed any longer, he risked Theo finding him, which bothered him more than the idea of dealing with the consequences of being caught outside the safe house. After Hermione's deception, Diggory would probably kill him himself.

"You look well," he offered gently. It was easier than fighting, and though he could understand, he wasn't pleased about it either. "I should really go," he forced a small, closed smile.

"...Took some time...but thank you," she murmured before she stepped back from him for a moment, considering before she closed the distance and hugged him as tightly as she could. "Please be safe." She asked softly before moving away from him and pulled Trotenoy with her so the peahen wouldn't try to peck him or end up getting apparated with him once he got off property.

She wanted to ask him to find her when he came back, but he seemed to find some sort of peace with Theo. "...I hope I get to see you again."

"Might catch my walk of shame next time he reaches out," he smirked. He hadn't meant to come after a battle, but when he'd gotten word and there'd been an opening, he hadn't hesitated. Not the way he would have in the past.

Without another look, he lined the maze and began making his way. He had to make it back while he still could. He'd worry about everything else when he had nothing better to worry about.

Now she hoped that she did. She watched him leave a moment before releasing her peahen, watching as she strutted off to deal with the other peacocks. Strutting past Draco's peacock even. Though the poor bird looked flustered.

Once he was gone, she moved back to her table, taking the time to try to compartmentalize. She couldn't let anyone see or know what she had just seen. She sipped her tea and ate a bit of breakfast, hoping to get back to the room before Draco woke.

Draco woke to an empty bed with a sigh. Her body had been warm against his, and though he wished he did, he couldn't recall the precise moment she had escaped him. She'd gotten up to apply the salve and give him potions as she'd promised. They'd fallen into this sort of routine until he'd felt better. He'd taken the opportunity to remind her of their chemistry after a few heated kisses. And then he'd fallen into some of the best sleep of his life. A rest he now regretted. Like he'd gotten too comfortable with her presence.

After a shower and a cuppa, he'd made his way to his study, looking around as if the room would give him some task to be done. Something he could accomplish. He itched to use his wand, and yet, he had been almost afraid to. It wouldn't be long before he was summoned. Perhaps it was time to visit his guest in the dungeon.

After finishing her breakfast, she went back into the manor and found her way back up to their wing. Opening the door to his room, she paused in the doorway as she saw the made up bed and the lack of her husband. The elves had already been in this room, but she hadn't seen people dodging her husband. Or seen or heard anything from the dungeons. Things were flowing like usual downstairs. Which meant....

Slipping into the study and quietly closing the door behind her, she watched him as he moved through the study. "Good morning."

"And where did you disappear to?" he asked lightly, noticing the blue dress she'd opted for. He had to guess breakfast. She certainly enjoyed her meals, which he liked. There was something comforting in the ability to provide for her, especially something so basic and yet anything but in his household. The bed was cold without you his mind chided lightly. He couldn't very well claim to have missed her.

"Breakfast. I felt just a little restless." She admitted and smiled at him a little more relaxed and naturally than she had in a while. Since their honeymoon, at least. Should I wake you next time I leave the bed before you? Cheek returned to her voice as she met his gaze, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dress.

Depends on how early it is, he offered back through their bond. "I might have had breakfast with you," he noted. Unless she'd wanted to be alone, he certainly wouldn't deny her space. They had time so to speak.

He kept her gaze as she drew closer. "I'll just have to make up my laziness with lunch," he smiled. He'd have said dinner, but he wasn't certain he'd be around for it. "I was considering going down to the dungeons if you wanted to join..."

I'll keep that in mind for the future. Which meant that she was implying she'd stay in his bed a bit more. Maybe she should be careful with that. "I didn't want to wake you. You were resting rather soundly," she chuckled. The way he had been had almost been enough to keep her in bed after all.

"Over lunch? I think I can accept that. Maybe over dinner...." He couldn't be about to leave, could he? Not this soon. They still had the fact that Seamus was captured under wraps. At least it hadn't leaked from them.

He should have been the one to let her sleep in. His injury had really shifted something in him. Changed a component he hadn't quite factored in. "It's been days since..." he reminded gently. He'll have felt our fighting and expected a full report. And not the type that was delivered by owl. The Dark Lord liked to be kept in the loop, and though he could get away with quite a bit, their time in Kensington had made the news.

"I suppose I'll have more to make up for," he reached for her hand and kissed every knuckle. "I wouldn't want to offend my wife, especially when she brings me so much comfort."

A sigh left her lips at that, and she couldn't argue with him. She didn't have to like it, though. "I know....," she trailed off as she met his gaze. How often have you had to give reports after one of our fights when you were injured? It made her blood boil just a little bit at the idea that he had to deal with that. What happened in those few days she had stayed curled up with him while he healed? Something changed. And it startled her. She could hear Harry's words again. 'You're happy.'

"I suppose you will. Glad you don't want to offend me. Keep not offending me, and I think you might get to keep me in your bed longer," she teased, but it was also partially true. Curling up with him was nice.

"Is that the secret?" he asked, smiling above her knuckles. I do so enjoy having you in bed... his mind was a purr. Any time he had here that close made him feel alive in ways he'd not thought possible.

Most of our fights, he told her honestly. Sometimes, before I could stop the bleeding, He remembered a few of the scars she had given him. It had never gone well for him when that happened, but there was no point dwelling on the past. This was a stretch even for him, and if it hadn't been for Finnegan, he'd have reported by now. Which was reason more to see where they were at in cracking him.

"It's one of the secrets." She purred with a grin as she looked at him, keeping her hand in his as he held it there. I like being in your bed. It was an easy thing to admit now. And it wasn't just for sex. Feeling him curl around her or keep her close felt...secure. Even if he had nearly killed her a few times.

Anger sparked through her and burned through her system a little bit more there. Well....if I have the power to make sure that doesn't happen again, I'm going to. Her voice nearly growled. She lightly squeezed his hand and was tempted to kiss him. To pull him closer. "Seems we best go and break Finnegan to better help with your report then."

Though he looked forward to unravelling the other secrets to keeping his wife appeased and between his sheets, the growl in his head sent shivers down the back of his neck. The smaller hairs she so loved to toy with standing on edge. Is that so? he couldn't quite conceal the mixture of huskiness and mirth along with it.

"We should," he grinned. "We've been such horrendous hosts leaving him down there..." he sighed. He knew a number of them would have already gone through. Seamus had caused many of his men to lose loved ones through explosions. Gently, he led her out of the study to find the main staircase they'd take into the underbelly of the Manor. He kept his dungeons far away from his wing for a reason.

That husky sound of his voice had her shiver, had her stepping in a little closer to him at that. It is...Not going to let anyone else leave marks on you. In any way. She couldn't hide the possessiveness there. He was hers. And she wanted to keep him as safe as possible. Like he seemed to be trying to keep her. It was...sweet.

"Oh, absolutely terrible. And how could we not give him a proper Malfoy welcome to our home?" Keeping her hand in his for a moment, she strode with him down the main staircase to go down into the depths of the manor. The dungeons were going to be terrible to deal with again, but this was a great distraction from what she had witnessed. And it would allow her to let out some of that frustration.

Not let anyone else mark him? He shouldn't have found her tone, words, and possessiveness hot. And yet, he'd had half a mind to swing her over his shoulder and take her to bed. Instead he focused on the tragedy at hand in regards to Seamus. "We should," he agreed. The last time they'd been down in the dungeons, he'd nearly fucked her against the wall in front of a prisoner. He wasn't sure he could keep it together a second time.

"You're awfully bloodthirsty today," he said with amusement and a glimmer of praise. "Anything happen while I was asleep?" he asked. Or perhaps it had to do with that night near Hyde Park. Either way, he would enjoy it.

Following his lead, she chuckled at that praise and glanced at him with a slight shrug. "Couldn't be that he called me a traitorous bitch or that he harmed my husband, could it?" How could she not be protective over him? He was hers. She wasn't about to let anyone think that they could harm him without her seeking retribution. Because they would bleed.

"Nothing happened. Though I did get to spend a little time near the gardens with the peafowl," she chuckled. They were a rather bloodthirsty bunch with their protectiveness. Even if she supposed that wasn't an excuse. Just an explanation of what she was doing.

“Defending my honor?” He smiled. “I suppose we both have things to fault, Finnegan,” he threw a look her way. No one called his wife names. Or hurt her. And Seamus Finnegan had tried to hurt her.

The birds in their gardens were a vicious lot to intruders but not usually towards Malfoys. “Perhaps you can remind her I’m likeable,” he chatted easily as if they weren’t on their way to coercively interrogate a prisoner.

"Not that you need it, but yes," she drawled as she glanced up at him with a half grin. At least she knew that he was upset about the names. Anything that seemed to risk her or upset her at all seemed to make him defensive. Possessive. But it was more than that...right? Maybe. She had to think that it was when he got softer with her.

She chuckled and lifted a brow. "My peahen? I'm sure I can try to remind her. She seems to be getting along with your peacock well enough. Hasn't pecked him at least."

It was interesting. How she seemed to care about his well-being. He’d never expected it. Had hardly thought it was possible, but after so many years of fighting each other, didn’t they own the rights to harm the other? That had to be it.

Her peahen had taken to his peacock or perhaps it had been the other way around. In any even she certainly held a grudge.

The lack of response had her glance over at him with a raised brow before they started down into the depths of the dungeon. She was winding up here much more frequently than she would have expected to be if she was honest. And she didn't know if this was just feeding into her darker habits or if it was giving them an outlet. She'd at least say it was an outlet.

No screams greeted them as they made the way down. So at least that meant they wouldn't have a larger audience for this.

When they made it to the entrance, he motioned for her to go. “Ladies first,” he offered with a vicious smirk. Torture was best on an empty stomach, though that had stopped being as much of a problem. And if she was involved, the enjoyment he’d come to pull from it had taken on a whole new meaning.

Down here, the air felt thick. The dampeners that kept the prisoners from escaping weakened them, their magic, and most of all their sounds from leaving this part of the Manor.

“I’m surprised they let you sleep,” he eyed the irishman like he was trash left on his pristine floor. There was nothing pristine or perfect about the dungeons. Stone floors with stains embedded deep into the rock. Function over aesthetics in every aspect. From the wrought iron doors to the squalor to avoid any type of clean up.

Taking the lead, she tied her hair back from her face as she descended. It was bound to be messy. The air felt thicker and it made her feel strange still, even if she wasn't the one being dampened. Never would be again if she and Draco had their way.

Seamus looked worse for wear as soon as she saw him. And she couldn't help but cluck her tongue as she saw allyhe bruises, the burns that had only been healed enough not to kill him, and the cuts. He was a mess and smelled like ozone and ash. Crossing her arms over her chest as she looked him over, she let out a slow sigh. "Surprised they didn't rip them apart. But it means we'll get to. So, Seamus-"

"Finnegan," he interrupted as he glared through a swollen black eye.

"Seamus," she stated simply again with an eye roll."Who gave the order to bomb that populated of an area?"

"Piss off."

A faint smirk curved her lips. "Since you so graciously let me take the lead last time, dear...." she offered.

Draco clucked his tongue. The Irishman had certainly lasted longer than he'd expected. It didn't matter, it would just make this all the more enjoyable. There was no pleasure to be had kicking a dolly when it was down. He slicked over his lips and eyed the man as if he could find just what buttons to push to be successful in his plight.

After days of itching to use his wand, he had been curious what his first spell would be. Warm and smoothe, his wand felt just right in his grasp. With a bit of silent magic he opened the door to the man's cell and walked in.

"The lady of the house asked a question," he reminded with a drawl, pointing his wand at Seamus' leg and causing it to feel a burn without any flames erupting.

Seamus' leg kicked at the sensation, features contorting in pain, reddening as though exposed to extreme heat. Still he refused to scream. Not yet. He narrowed his eyes up at Draco and then glanced over at Hermione. "Don't see a lady of the house. Harlot of the house? Possible."

The witch snorted, moving to stand in the doorway of the cell, her wand in hand as she watched with a raised brow. "How incredibly original. Tell me, did all of your brain cells cook before or after the explosion that cost Dean his life?"

The Irishman seethed, attempting to get up out of the chair but falling back into it as he glowered.

"I could keep talking about Dean. I'm pretty sure he'd be rather disappointed in how bloodthirsty you've become...though it seems less like bloodthirsty and more like reckless abandonment. If you had a death wish, that's all you had to say..."

"Harry and Ron would be disappointed," Seamus spat back at her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she kept her expression calm and emotionless. "Pretty sure I knew Harry and Ron better than you. Nice try."

Draco had wanted to gag him, but that would have been a shame if the goal was to hear him scream. While Hermione spoke, he paid attention. Dean was certainly a soft spot. How fascinating it was to see all these little complications arise.

"Crucio," the spell was the softest murmur against their guest, but every ounce of desire for pain stood behind it. He'd meant it for his wife back in the day, but it hadn't been nearly as personal as it weighed now. Not with how he had called his wife.

"You will show respect for your superiors." Draco warned. A house elf had more worth than this piece of trash calling his wife a harlot.

"He doesn't know how to show respect, Draco. Barely shows respect to himself," she murmured, gently reaching out to trail her fingers over his back. Your arm alright? The concern whispered through his head and she almost kicked herself. Great job not showing just how much she was melting to him.

Seamus bit down hard enough into his lip that he bled. Garnet dribbled down his chin slowly, glistening against his pale skin.

Seamus made himself bleed, and Draco knew he must have been off. How easily he'd cried out with the explosion. He tightened his grip, the spell spilling more fervently into the pathetic excuse for a wizard before him. Sure, he could make things explode, but it had everything to do with incompetence.

"Of course, he doesn't," he responded to his wife like he wasn't pushing the man before him to writhe and scream in pain at his feet.

It's fine, he assured, though he was starting to question it the slightest bit.

Watching Seamus with a level of detachment she wished she could have acquired much sooner, she stayed behind her husband, watching over his shoulder as her fingers trailed up and down his back gently. Though when the Irishman did start to scream, she felt a little bit more relaxed. Breaking him wouldn't be that difficult. Perhaps they could point out he had held on far too much.

The screams were loud as he writhed. Hermione simply watched, tilting her head. I'm checking it after this to make sure. She stated simply, but no shift in her expression exposed the worry she felt. Years of a good poker face were paying off.

"D-d-Diggory! It was Diggory!" He babbled after several long moments of writhing and screams.

Draco lifted his wand lazily, stopping the curse as he watched the mass on the ground. He didn't feel anything for Finnegan. Most days, he didn't even think about him. It was nothing new from their school days. Beyond being a hazard, he wasn't an immediate problem most days.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Seamus spat at his feet, and the blond raised a brow.

You can check any part of me you'd like later, he promised his wife.

"And where is good old Amos?" his voice was almost gentle as Seamus stayed on the ground and glared up at Draco.

He'd been about to say something when Draco pointed his wand towards Seamus' leg and shattered his tibia.

Screams filled the cell, stretching down the hall to anyone who would listen. Panting, he spat at Draco again. "Don't know. Wouldn't tell you if I did," he groaned, trying not to squirm, trying to keep his leg still.

"You really think he wouldn't have sold you out if it would have gotten Diggory what he wanted?" Hermione said with a shake of her head. She knew he was dumb, but he just got more unhinged as time passed. Which wasn't exactly something she focused on while they were all on the same side.

"Don't tell me... I'll still enjoy crippling you," Draco shrugged, this time aiming for his foot. Sometimes, smaller bones yielded better results. If Seamus made it out, he'd be lucky to hobble by the time he was done with him.

A string of Gaelic curses escaped the Irishman.

Feel free to hurt him as you see fit, he offered his lover. He didn't mind; Finnegan was, at the very least, entertainment. At best, a source of information to be verified.

She used a spell that she was familiar with but had left a mark on her. Like her wand was a knife that carved down his arm, cutting through burns to make him hurt even more as he screamed and writhed. He didn't spit again. Point to her. But then he gained another point.

"H-h-how's it feel t-t-to be like B-bellatrix, Mrs. Malfoy?" The Irishman raggedly asked.

Her hand dropped away from Draco as she stood ramrod straight, her shoulders squared. Hermione glared at him, resisting the urge to completely rip him to shreds. "Certainly feels better than writhing on the floor..."

He didn't have to look back to know. To see how she stood taller. He could feel it. Whether it was their bond, knowledge, or just being hyperaware of her.

A scoff escaped Draco. "How does it feel knowing there won't be anything left of you to bury?" he asked in return. Dying men said stupid things. He collapses ribs on either side of him, wanting to make him think twice before he so much as breathed towards his wife again.

Seamus clawed at his own body, trying to get air in only to be stopped by pain. Every short breath brought him further into panic, all of the venom out of his expression for a moment.

You had to realize they'd say terrible things about me, Draco. I'm a traitor after all. Her mind muttered, a bitterness to it. She was betraying them. Not just them, everything. Or maybe she was being truer to herself? Best not to think about it.

"He's not important enough to know where Amos is. Doubt he even knows where Shacklebolt or Aberforth or Diggle are," she taunted.

What kind of husband would I be if I didn't defend my wife? his mind retorted. Of course, he had known they'd redirect their anger. That didn't mean he had to like it. Part of him did, though. He Loved knowing how deeply it hurt them that she had chosen him, even if he knew that wasn't quite accurate either. She had chosen to live.

"We should leave him for the next," he turned towards his wife, watching her. Perhaps treating him like less than nothing would make him want to prove his worth.

A subpar one. And since I'm starting to realize you haven't allowed yourself to be sub par at anything, that simply wouldn't do, would it? He had to be the best at everything. No wonder they had fought in school, even if blood had nothing to do with it. She could have been a pureblood witch, and if she had beaten him in grades, he still would have fought with her.

"At least they'll get practice if nothing else," she agreed, giving Draco her undivided attention.

The Irishman continued to seethe as he tried to push himself up to sit. But he kept slipping, falling back over as he tried to take in deeper breaths. "No one knows where Shacklebolt is."

Which meant people did know where Aberforth and Diggle were.

He kept his gaze on his wife as Seamus spoke. This was far more important than the mass struggling for breath behind him. She knew he had strived for perfection. It was almost natural that of all the witches, she would be the one at his side. Even if it appeared so unthinkable.

"Much needed practice," he agreed.

We're much stronger as allies, he reminded. He wished he could be strong and support her at every turn, but he already felt they would be at odds on the school board.

Looking up at him, she continued to ignore Seamus. The Irishman hated being ignored. Had since school. It made it all the better as she stepped closer to her husband, her fingers lightly brushing up his wand arm, careful with how she touched. Just in case he was still injured.

That bit of praise had a hint of a grin curve her lips. Certainly means that I'm not throwing all of my effort at someone just as smart and strong as me. We can both get things done. Even if she would still argue with him. Especially over the students at Hogwarts.

"At least he makes a good target for hexes. Since he's not good for anything else."

"Definitely not moving one," he agreed. Not with how much damage they'd given him, he brushed a stray curl over her ear as she brushed his arm. It was almost fully healed. Only a few remnants of the damage left to remind him. Another night of salve and the light pink stripes would likely vanish by morning.

I never questioned your resolve or resourcefulness, he assured her. If he had, he might have been dead. His wife was a dangerous creature indeed, but now that was only accurate for anyone but himself.

"Get a fucking room," Seamus groaned at them.

Leaning into that light touch as he tucked her hair out of the way, she kept her eyes on him, continuing to ignore Seamus. "Such a shame too. He's little more than a door stop," she sighed like she was disappointed that he couldn't be better, her fingers tracing his shoulder.

Did you not? I thought you questioning it is how you got me here. She questioned. Though she almost leaned in to kiss him, almost.

"Would rather see Aberforth and his damn goats...."

Draco brushed his nose against hers. He wanted to kiss her, but it meant more to him than pissing off Seamus. "Perhaps we'll transfigure his remains as a doorstop," he mused.

I embraced, did my best to use it against you. Eventually, I realized it was best used to my advantage. Perhaps it wasn't the most romantic thing, but it was honest. You've always been strong, he praised, is forehead against hers.

Hermione kept that gaze, ignoring the mutters in Gaelic that she could hear from Seamus. "Would make him useful for longer than he's ever been."

"You know that I'm helpful, Granger. You utilized explosives of mine a few times," he groaned as he looked between them.

You did a decent job using it to your advantage... It was an admittance that she could give him as she looked up into his eyes.

"At least Abeforth's damn farm has privacy," Seamus grumbled to himself, making a face.

He's really dumb, isn't he?" He asked, trying not to laugh. Instead, he focused on her. The more they ignored the Irish, the more he was forthcoming. His wife hurting others had been hot, but getting to focus on her to make their enemies forthcoming was a whole different level.

"Definitely," he agreed, a small hum of approval nearing a moan. Not kissing her was harder than he'd imagined. Once they were tucked away, though, he wouldn't mind indulging in all she had to offer.

I'm not sure I'm the only one benefiting from this arrangement, he reminded gently.

He's had so many concussions I'm surprised sometimes that he can have the occasional good idea. She admitted easily enough as she kept her attention on him. The more they ignored him, the more he'd babble. They threw in the occasional bit of pain, and he'd shatter. He had babbled at the Gryffindor common table as well.

"Would need to make sure it doesn't look like him though," she drawled as her gaze dropped to his lips. I do get to not starve, be well taken care of, have as many books as I'd like, among other perks. She teased him easily, just as before. Cheek was a language she knew well and intended to use a lot more often than she had before.

The Irishman slowly managed to push himself into a sitting position at least. "Shouldn't have left Cork...."

I'm sure there's more than meeting your basic needs to it, Mrs Malfoy, he teased her lightly. She'd probably gotten more of a voice in the past few weeks than she had the last few years. It certainly wasn't his loss.

"I'm sure we can figure something out. A wrought iron Malfoy crest maybe..." he offered. Cork. Aberforth was hiding in Cork with a bunch of goats. Well, that had to be oddly specific, right?

There has been...but the basic needs being met without struggle is nice...So is having a voice again, she admitted to him easily enough. Even knowing she didn't have as much of a voice as she would want, she had more than she had for years. Since the leadership took over.

"Perhaps. Still getting used to having a family crest," she drawled easily and didn't spare a glance at Seamus.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, trying to get back into the chair he had been in as he glanced down at his shattered leg and toes. "Or stayed with Diggle in-.....oh bloody hell," he gasped, looking over at the other two again with wider eyes, finally catching on to what they were letting him do.

Is that all I offer you? he asked, almost offended. Despite it, there was a lightheartedness to the way his mind reached for her. A kinship he might not have believed a possibility.

"I'd gift you his version of it, but I'd rather have something worthy of your affection," he smirked. At least he had caught on, though honestly, he'd half expected the Irish to continue digging his grave with every statement.

You want to break him a little more? He offered. They could just go off what they'd gotten, but who knew what else rested in that uninteresting brain of his?

...I'd prefer to discuss all the things you offer me when we're not in the dungeon of our home. Our home still had an odd ring to it. But she liked it. And she didn't know if that almost offended was genuinely offended or not. It was hard to tell.

"Mmm, and what's worthy of my affection?" She grinned. All the gifts clearly, but she wasn't sure if that was genuine gift-giving or the expectation of their rather rapid 'courtship' that came with making sure they both lived.

Glancing over at Seamus, she thought of all of the terrible things he'd called her, the way he'd dismissed her, had boasted, had risked countless people. With a flick of her wand at him, her voice was cool and level but she meant the spell as much as she ever had. "Crucio."

It seemed hardly appropriate to distract his other half as she made their guest scream so wonderfully. As she’d said, they could pursue deeper understanding outside of the dungeons. Especially when it echoed Seamus's cries. He tried so hard to stop himself that he feared for the poor man’s tongue.

Have I ever told you how stunning you are when you torture others? he allowed his mind to extend. To a point, he’d been attracted when that attention had been directed towards him.

Raising a brow as she looked at him, she kept the curse going a bit longer. Listening to the man scream as she got out all of her frustrations and irritations about Harry, the Dark Lord, and all of it. What she couldn't share with him. They both still had their secrets, she was sure. You haven't, no.

How attracted had he been when she tortured others or tortured him? She wasn't sure how to react to that answer.

Seamus screamed, the pain she caused amplified by the wound and breaks that plagued him. There were the few unintelligible begs strewn in.

Rather than answer, he merely studied her, slicking his lips with yearning. She had made him feel things over the years he was still coming to terms with.

Stopping the curse as she spared a brief glance towards Seamus, she looked at him as if he was the dirt on her shoes before she looked back at her husband.

"You're giving me that look again," she teased, tracing her fingers along his arm and shoulder. I hope you don't get summoned this evening...I'd much rather keep you to myself a little longer.

Even that look. It made his spine tingle. “I am,” he responded unabashedly. He wouldn’t shy away from his desires for her. Especially when she seemed to be leaning into it herself.

Hopefully I can hold off one more day, he let slide back. He’d pay for sitting on information. He knew as much, and for once, he didn’t care. I’d much rather be summoned by you… He’d still owed her for the foyer and every taunt she had pushed over the last few days.

"Seems my husband likes every part of me." She let her gaze roam over him. She was starting to like him. It couldn't be love. That would be absurd. But it could be like. It would explain her protectiveness.

"Can't like your blood status," Seamus groaned, the sound closer to a whimper now.

Another cut opened along his face at the insult. Well...if your arm is better...you do still owe me... and she had a feeling she would be a trembling mess.

“Haven’t been disappointed so far,” his tone held a husky edge to it. The breath he took slicing Seamus filled with desire.

I’ll happily prove my recovery, he vowed, remembering every image he’d pushed down the bond.

“You’re a half-blood and yet what talent do you really have beyond failure?” He demanded in that petulant tone he got when he openly judged others in school. “Do you think you’re better than she is?” He asked with a glimmer of viciousness.

The way he spoke to her lit a fire in her. Ever since he started sounding like that, it made her want to be closer, to hear that voice in her ears. Through her mind. It was an even exchange: she got to hear his gruff voice, and he got to hear the moans he felt were so pornographic.

The viciousness in Draco's gaze finally made Seamus recoil with a wince. Blood rolled from every cut she'd placed, and his body didn't move as well after all of the pain. "No!" He said too quickly, his voice too high. He cleared his throat. "....not because of my blood....because I'm not someone who betrayed their friends."

Those words sank like a knife into her chest, but she kept her face incredibly calm. "How original."

“I’ll be sure to tell Aberforth of your hubris,” he reminded pointedly. They hadn’t tortured that out of him. He’d gladly given the information for a shred of attention. “Goodbye Finnegan,” he wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“I have, much more pressing matters,” he assured. Like keeping my word… he let the thought brush her mind.

"I'm sure he'll be so pleased you remembered his goats," she drawled as she glanced at gum before stepping in closer to her husband. She'd go with him wherever he wanted to go. Especially with that promise. "Finnegan," she drawled in a simple dismissal of the man.

Letting Draco lead the way back out, she smiled a bit more. You have done such a good job of keeping your word to me...