Chapter 1
The IdeaBlue light filtered in through floor length windows as the noon sun glared down on Scotland. September brought in a new term at Hogwarts. Returning Slytherins lounged in the dark, round common room as friends filtered in from summer holiday with stories to tell. It was a quiet affair. There were gentle nods of recognition to one another as their brought in their school things, trunks and pets and the like.
Most wore their casual clothes from home. Pansy Parkinson, a loud-mouthed brunette, dressed in her navy pencil skirt, green silk blouse, matched navy peacoat covered with fur and ankle boots with brass studs fitted round the ankles. She pulled off her two Slytherin-green gloves.
"They made the best choice making us prefects, didn't they, Draco?" A pair of oversized black shades were tossed onto the nearby couch. A second-year girl sat in the very spot. She sat stunned with the sunglasses in her hands until she was convinced with the death glare of Pansy to move across the room. "It will take some work. This house has fallen to ninnies. But, I think there is some real potential."
Beside her was childhood friend and on-again-off again boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. A wealthy heir to ancient family money and land, Draco was the most prestigious student to attend Hogwarts. Apart from world famous, Harry Potter. However, amongst the Slytherin students, Harry Potter did not count for much.
It was their house that was sworn enemy to Harry Potter and his associates.
More tense were the state of things. The Dark Lord was said to have returned. And none of the other students, not even the long-reaching ears of Pansy Parkinson, realized that Draco Malfoy had spent the entire summer holiday with the Dark Lord since he was risen.
Times turned darker, full of danger for all, without their knowledge.
"Shut it, Pans. I listened to you all the way on the train. I don't want to hear another word of it."
She faked a gasp, much to his irritation. "I hardly spoke. It was that know-it-all that talked the entire ride."
Crabbe and Goyle, Draco's two closest friends better described as henchmen, descended their dormitory stairs. Each huffed at their own rapid pace. Goyle dropped his hands to his knees, panting like a beast.
Neither was brilliant. They had the minds of followers. Draco's father associated with the two senior wizards in their side-interests and came to the same conclusion as Draco: it is better to have simple-minded friends in need of direction rather than those of equal intelligence.
"Keep your company controlled and your enemies stimulated," Lucius instructed his son before he boarded his first train to Hogwarts. Age eleven was old enough to start the build of another manipulative generation of pureblood wizard.
Draco stared with a curled lip as they flopped onto the furniture, letting their robes become wrinkled and tangled like animals. His frustration mounted.
He took the chair across, adjusted his trousers as he sat, unfolded a newspaper and read in silence as his classmates moved in. Headlines smeared Harry Potter in every crease. It lifted his spirits. There was something of relief that Saint Potter was not as beloved as he once was.
A fall from grace was just what Merlin ordered as far as Draco was concerned.
Two more Slytherin students joined the gathering of fifth year students. Daphne, who took her place at Pansy's side with a story of a new pool boy in their French estate, and Blaise Zabini. Blaise preferred his distance. He sat in a stand-alone chair near enough to be heard, but far enough to be kept out of conversation if he wished, as he so often did. The wizard thought himself above everyone. Draco Malfoy, included.
However, on this day, the gods of favor shined down on the den of serpents and brought forth a friendly greeting from the Italian. He said their name, solemn in tone and blank in expression, before he sank into his seat.
They'd all believed the interaction over. It was Blaise after all. Draco kept to his reading since it was bound to be all his free time for the year with prefect duties now expected of him. Daphne continued to regale Pans with the torrid affair. The former witch steamed with jealousy. Goyle and Crabbe sat in total silence. As usual.
Things were normal within the house until Blaise spoke.
"Did you lot see Granger on the train?"
A newspaper folded in half. Draco's curious expression peered over top. "Never knew you to be interested in a mudblood, Blaise."
His dark eyes glared. "Interested in a manner of speaking."
It caught attention. Everyone's.
Crabbe even look up from his bag of crisps. "Did you hear 'im, Draco? He's talking about Granger."
Draco casted a sharp glance.
A pureblood wizard was expected to keep his bloodline clean. Blaise came from a lineage that consisted of all magical peoples, as most did within Slytherin. It was an object of mind for the house. Purity. They carried on ancient traditions of nobility by enriching their blood rather than diluting it with muck. A muggleborn witch was off limits. A mudblood was off limits to all purebloods, men and women.
"Can't say you haven't noticed her. She's a pretty little thing. Tight. Firm." He pressed out the wrinkles of his trousers with his palms. Slender tan trousers hugged Blaise's body as a white button-up shirt with the last few left undone and a shimmering silver vest rested. In one ear was an enchanted family ring of purple Charoite. "I'd love to keep that smart mouth on a leash."
Pansy snorted. "Least you'd get to whip her then."
"Among other things." A delighted grin twisted Blaise's face.
The girls recoiled.
Goyle wiggled in his seat. "Oh! I know. You can get her to do your schoolwork for you. Won't have a choice, will she? If she's on your leash."
"Only," Pansy added in, "you'll have to scourgify your hand. Fiendfyre if you touch her."
"What I'd do wouldn't need punishing." A fire burned in Blaise's eye. "Teach the filth a few things about wizards that she doesn't know."
"Leave it to a half breed," Goyle said menacingly.
It was difficult to imagine him as a powerful wizard with chocolate still on his hands from the train in. No matter how cruel his father was, his son ate the childish treat of chocolate frogs as if they were an extinct creature.
He kept his focus on the paper. Mudbloods did not interest him. The one at the school angered him enough. He did not want to waste more mental faculty on her unless needed.
Blaise cleared his throat. "A pureblood would do it better. We do everything better, don't we? Besides, what a treat for Granger. A purpose in the wizarding world after all."
"What makes you think she wants a purpose?" Draco sneered. "She is a Gryffindor. They're born with purpose in their veins, aren't they? Or is it garishness? I forget."
It was an inadmissible look, the one that Blaise wore. A similar look was in the Dark Lord's eye as he spoke of his plans for the world, a demonic sound to his voice as he rang ragged nails along the edges of a map. Both bore the sign of pure evil.
Evil was not a thing Draco Malfoy considered himself. He was too well-bred. Lords didn't bother themselves with issues of the common folk; they did not matter. A Malfoy remained long after the Dark Lord's defeat and was around before the man emerged with a mad man's dream.
It was right to support a wizard who promised more power. His father never missed an opportunity to gain leverage over a person, no matter what the cost. It made him invaluable.
All his life Draco aspired to be that skilled. Manipulation was the greatest tool, an edge he kept fatal and sharp, drawn at a moment's notice.
"Girl like that. They want all sort of things they don't realize. Especially a leash," he explained.
Draco contemplated the idea as the conversation surpassed his attention. It was wicked. Granger as a slave, though, for his own pleasure was a satisfying way to even the score of top score every term as though he was not the son of a noble house, more qualified to own a wand than a muggleborn girl.
Granger. His own little puppet to control in every aspect he wished.
The taut nature of his cock believed it a splendid idea.
He wondered if his father would like the idea. Death was best for any mudblood, but humiliation was a close second. Granger was the Gryffindor princess, the ideal witch for the world, Harry Potter's very best friend. If she were to be bound to Draco Malfoy, it would ruin the reputation of those around her, not only herself.
Time for the welcoming ceremony drew all students to the Great Hall. Slytherins marched together. Draco, at the front of the crowd, led the fellow peers into an open space filled with four long tables. Each for a different Hogwarts house.
One for the serpent. One for the eagle. One for the lion. One for the badger.
The lions were already seated at their table. Potter, Weasley, and Granger sat in the same three places they had since beginning of Hogwarts. Malfoy sat two tables away, faced at Granger.
She was pretty, for one of that kind. Her hair was more managed than previous years, though it still needed work. There were straightening balms. Didn't she know? All the witches knew.
Granger wore her school uniform. It was a standard black skirt, sweater, blouse and tie. There was not an ounce of makeup on her face. Something witches knew of, as well. Still, as Draco inspected every inch of her, there was little need. Her complexion was rather nice. It was pale and radiated a natural glow that didn't come from cosmetics.
A book was under her right hand on the bench beside her. The text was the one required for charms class. He read through it the week before.
One of the Gryffindor boys, the one who liked to blow up things, snaked an arm over her shoulder. The bloody hell that wizard think he was doing? Draco's knuckles cracked as he struggled to keep his mouth closed. Apparently, the Gryffindor said something funny. The rest of the group laughed. Except, Granger. She shoved him away.
Draco settled in his seat, satisfied that if he was going to own on person in the world, it'd be Hermione Granger, the miracle mudblood. She would be a crowning jewel. A mark of quality to any who shared his values.
He kept his eye on her during the rest of the feast as she enjoyed it with her friends like they hadn't spent the entire summer together in the same bed at the Weasley's hovel. The more he thought on it, the more he realized how unfit it was for any witch. Even one like Granger deserved better. She was rather attractive as girls went. If she'd stayed Muggle, Draco imaged a wealthy heir like himself might find himself rather enthralled with someone as smart as her. That alone was a rarity.
Weasley was an awful choice for her. He'd have to cull that option right out of her head if he were to fully gain control of her.
There were few Slytherin girls who were smart in the slightest sense. Daphne slept with wizards for their answers. She'd tried him the previous year. Pans failed until the traditional letter from her father bribed professors into a raise in grade. Millicent Bulstrode talked to her cats and private collection of skulls, ones that apparently talked back, and managed to keep above failure level. He was not certain with Tracey, but she once commented that the planet was not round as the Ministry stated but was in the shape of a disc.
Not intelligent by his standards.
No, Granger was a different breed. And he wanted her.
"Crabbe." He nudged his elbow into his side. "Take Goyle and watch Granger tonight."
Crabbe wrinkled his forehead. "Granger?"
"That's what I said."
"But…you don't like her. Remember? She's a filthy mudblood."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Follow her you git. And tell me everything. Every single thing. Got it?"
A biscuit was shoved into his friend's mouth. Crumbs shed all down the front of the dark robes. Their golden sprinkles decorated one wizard or the other. Neither were free of their dribbles. Ever.
With a great sigh, he shooed them away. Their presence only frustrated the many brain cells it took to withstand the urge to lecture them on being worthy of their names rather than mindless followers. The advice from his father was well founded, but dull. He hated to communicate in a roundabout way with himself since they merely repeated what he said back as answers.
Draco found himself bored with the others, too. It was too easy to predict their behaviors. That was why it drove his mad all the quicker. He knew to expect it. They came at the moment just when he saw them emerge the year before, and the year before that.
He knew that on the other end of the table, Millicent chewed her nails into ragged claws as she tried to resist the pudding. It'd only be ten minutes before a stuffed plate made its way in front of her.
The foot that ran up the leg of his pants was obviously Pansy Parkinson. She was bored. Feasts in camaraderie helped her mind wander to more exciting things. Draco kicked the foot away. The yelp that answered was a plead for reconsideration. He had to close his legs to get the groping to stop.
It was all the same. Year after year. Time after time. Life was on repeat. The fun, sucked from the moment when he knew what to expect for weeks at a time.
A challenge was exactly what he needed. There was much on his mind outside the walls of Hogwarts that always plagued his mind with anxiety. It would be a nice reprieve for a bit of thrill inside them. Change of scenery if you will.
He waited in the common room, delighted with his plan.
Later, after he'd sulked around the castle to his fulfillment, Blaise entered the Slytherin common room with a book in one hand and the other shoved into his trouser pocket.
"Say, Draco."
Draco looked up.
"What are your two goons doing in the library?" Blaise questioned skeptically. "Surprised they found the place to be honest. Neither of them know how to operate a book."
"Following Granger," he answered. "She was there, wasn't she?"
Blaise snorted. "Course she was. It's Granger."
He settled in a lounge chair near the fire. His long body stretched out against the black leather. The wizard twisted to his side, ripped his wand out of his pocket, and threw it by his side before he fell back to his seat.
Draco looked on in displeasure. Blaise's newfound obsession with Granger started to concern him. With plans already laid, he wanted nothing to screw it up. Including Blaise Zabini.
"What are they following her for?"
"Your idea."
A look of confusion crossed his dark face. "My idea."
Draco nodded. "It was brilliant. I just improved on it a bit."
"Thinking of kidnapping Granger then, are you?"
"Yes."
It was not met with doubt or amusement. It was silence.
Crackles of fire filled the room. There was the soft echo of laughter from the girl's dormitory. A gray striped cat darted down the steps donned in a fluffy white hat with matching booties. Draco and the cat shared a moment of eye contact. With one lift of his pale brow, the creature ran back the way it came.
Blaise remained silent. He stared into the exposed hearth. The flames danced wildly in their place. Ash fell down below the grate where it was to be magically cleaned the next day by house elves employed by the castle. The dark brick was to be scrubbed of the black git by hand until it shined with the once brightness of a fresh brick.
"You lack the finesse it will take," Blaise stated. His eyes stayed captured by flame.
"Pardon?" Draco had been lost in his excitement as his plan sank further into his mind. It had to happen. He never thought of anything that would make him happier.
Blaise cleared his throat. "You haven't the charm that will convince Granger. Whatever you plan, it won't work."
The longer Blaise concerned himself with Granger, the more Draco wanted to curse it out of his mouth. He did not share.
"Any man other than myself to speak her name will meet the end of my wand."
It was brought the next moment in answer to Blaise's laugh. The wood was placed at the wizard's throat. More insulting, he continued to chuckle.
"You don't scare me, Draco. We all know you're too soft."
It'd been a relief to hear the challenge. He almost shook his hand before he shot a charm at his house mate.
"Alarte Ascendare."
Blaise Zabini shot upward. He hit the cathedral ceiling with a booming thud and fell back to the lounge chair. As he landed, bones cracked. There was no exclamation of pain since the ceiling had rendered Blaise a living corpse. The slender length of the wizard rested awkwardly, half on the lounge and half on the floor.
It served him right. Draco sheathed the wand back in place at his forearm. A wand was an extension of his magic. It was kept within easy reach for a moment's need of a spell. Lack of preparation was his enemies' fault, as his father always said. It was a waste to feel guilt when it was their own stupidity that brought them to the situation.
He decided to wait in the dorm for Crabbe and Goyle. It was near curfew.
Granger was a goody-goody. It seemed unlikely that she was still out of Gryffindor Tower.
If Crabbe and Goyle went to the Great Hall again, he'd kill them.
In the Slytherin dorm rooms, tall windows butted up against the Black Lake. It shined especially bright in the morning. Once in a while, a creature of the deep would emerge as a shadow throughout the blue. Mostly it was empty water.
There were ebony wood bedframes for each student with lush duvet covers embroidered with silver snakes with dense black eyes. Throughout the day the serpent moved throughout the fabric. It now rested at the foot of the bed. The eyes followed Draco as he moved throughout his space.
He'd unpacked his trunk of his personal belongings like his tailored suits. All in black. School robes hanged right next. The fabric was inferior to the suits, but superior to the other students.
Also among his belongings were dragon scale combs. They were a personal gift from his grandfather. It was from a dragon hunting expedition in China where he first met a witch that became Draco's grandmother. The dragon they killed became extinct. Each comb was worth a hefty fortune, and he had two in his possession.
The smooth rounded edges were a comfort. It reminded him of his grandparents house in the Netherlands where the combs were displayed proudly. Draco spent many moments in front of their case when he visited his grandparents.
They were still in hand when Crabbe and Goyle entered the dorm.
"What's wrong with Zabini?" Goyle asked.
"The excitement of waiting for you two. He just couldn't take it," Draco sneered. "What took you so long? Thought I said to come back when you were done with Granger. Better not gone round that Hufflepuff again. She only gives you biscuits is because she likes you, Crabbe."
Crabbe wrinkled his forehead. "We've only just finished with Granger. Barely made it back before curfew."
That was odd. What was she doing out so late?
"How was it then? The library. What was she reading?"
He fell to his bed, ankles crossed, hands behind his neck.
"Defense books. Old textbooks," Goyle answered. "She checked four out. But that's not all."
That captured Draco's attention. "Well?"
"We followed her to the Owlery," Crabbe said.
The Owlery was where the owls of the school were kept. It was the one place a person went to send a letter, but not much else. A trek to the Owlery so close to curfew was suspicious. It would be a long dark walk there and back with not much except moonlight to guide.
Hermione Granger was not a suspicious witch. Potter and Weasley did suspicious things; Granger was startling clear with her actions. A letter at night meant one thing. It was not something that she wanted her friends to see.
That interested Draco.
"The letter. Who was it to?" He questioned. "You did get a glance at it, didn't you?"
"It was to Bulgaria. That's all we saw."
Krum.
Granger dated the oaf the year before during the Triwizard Tournament. He was the greatest seeker in the world. It was natural that they'd be drawn to each other. One had brains, the other didn't. Not a smidge.
Well that'd have to stop.
"Next time. Stop her. Don't let her send a letter to Bulgaria."
The pair looked at each other with confusion. Draco clenched his jaw. Couldn't they keep up?
"Yes?" He asked, annoyed that he was subject to question.
"Next time?"
He sighed. "Yes. Next time. Don't let her send the letter. I want to read it first."