A/N : Here is chapter four, from Draco's point of view. Enjoy!

Le Droit du Seigneur

Chapter IV : The Right to First Blood

Ah, silence. Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd been anywhere near Hermione Granger and enjoyed more than a split second of peace and quiet. The girl could talk for England and her bossy, know-it-all tones usually gave him a headache. But there were no teachers to show off to now, no books to recite entire passages from and no Harry Potter and Ron Weasley to snigger with behind Draco's back. And there was of course the small matter of the full-body-binding curse he'd cast on her. That helped.

Draco shifted his grip on Hermione, his right hand on the backs of her legs. He could feel their shape through the thin fabric of her wedding gown, their rounded softness beneath his palm. If he moved just a little higher… A sideways glance at his aunt Bellatrix nipped that thought in the bud. While he didn't doubt that she couldn't care less if he had his way with Granger, she was a stark reminder of what he stood for, as a member of the Malfoy family and, in name anyway, avid follower of the Dark Lord. Mudbloods were so far beneath him he might never recover from the social shame of it. In his opinion, they were even lower than the Muggle whores he sometimes frequented. Those girls might lack the powers and mystique of their magical counterparts, but at least they didn't pretend to be something they weren't, unlike Mudbloods. Draco had a brief vision of Granger lying abandoned in the corner of a brothel, untouched because she was a freak of nature. The thought sparked a grin on his face.

As soon as they were out of sight of the wedding party, Bellatrix apparated back to the Manor with a cackle and a sharp bang. Draco held back for a moment, looking over his shoulder at the Burrow in the distance. Never in a million years could he have imagined that this was the way in which he would finally get his revenge. It was so perfect it made him want to down an entire bottle of firewhiskey and laugh manically for the rest of the day. Wait until Blaise Zabini heard about this. Blaise had a fine appreciation for well-thought-out plans. Never mind that it had been his aunt's idea in the first place. Bellatrix soon tired of her own games and so Draco would be free to claim the whole twisted plot as his own. After Pesky had finally brought him his lucidity potion, he had had a little while to think things over while Bellatrix read to him from The Wizarding Code of Law and Property. The law said three days, but it also said that the wronged future husband had the right to refuse to take his fiancée back. Dark thoughts had begun to take root in Draco's mind. If things were to be done carefully, without overplaying it, perhaps he could turn the golden Gryffindor trio against each other once and for all. Absentmindedly patting Hermione's leg, Draco apparated them back to the Manor.

"Where are you going to put her?" Bellatrix asked as soon as he strode into the entrance hall, still carrying his load. She took off her cloak and threw it in the direction of a house elf with a barked order for some lunch. "The dungeons?"

Draco shook his head. He hadn't thought of all the logistics, but he was aware that they needed to keep up certain appearances with what they were doing. If Ron Weasley came back in three days to find his future wife locked up inside a dungeon but essentially unharmed, the joke would have hardly been worth it. No, he needed to make Weasley's worst fears work against him.

"I was thinking the room next to mine. The one Pansy usually stays in."

Bellatrix's eyebrow arched in mild disgust. "You would put her in a guest room? She's hardly worth it."

"Of course she's not," Draco snapped, lifting Granger off his shoulder with a flick of his wand. He let her hang in front of him in mid-air, watching her stone-like features still bound by the curse he'd cast. Even though she had no control over herself, he could have sworn she was still managing to glare at him. There was something rather tragic about her, the sad tilt of her mouth and the beautiful gown that would never finish fulfilling its purpose. If Draco cared about such things, he might have been moved by the sight of her helpless form. Instead, he spun her away from him so he wouldn't have to look at her eyes. "But this is hardly going to seem believable if we lock her up. I'll have Pesky and Perky purge the room afterwards, if it makes you feel better."

His aunt did not look convinced. Personally, Draco couldn't care less if Pansy Parkinson slept in the same sheets as Granger had. In fact, it would amuse him to see the look on her face if she ever found out. His parents were forever trying to set them up, but he found her screeching voice even more annoying than Granger's, especially as Pansy really had nothing interesting to say for herself. Making Granger float ahead in front of him, Draco was about to go upstairs when he felt Bellatrix's sharp nails dig into his shoulder. He spun round, recoiling from her touch. They might be family, but that didn't mean he wanted any physical contact with her. She unnerved him enough as it was.

"I'm leaving this up to you for the moment, Draco, but don't mess up. Have your fun with her, do whatever you like, but don't lose sight of the true purpose of this."

She looked at him pointedly and nodded at the large portrait of his parents that adorned the entrance hall. Draco blinked before realising that she didn't want Granger to understand. Of course not. This was still about her master plan to please the Dark Lord and have his parents released. While the Dark Lord hated Harry Potter and his friends, Draco wasn't sure that this would suffice to make his anger abate. Lord Voldemort loathed treason about as much as he loathed Muggles and Mudbloods.

"I won't. Trust me, I've been thinking about the possibilities more than you can imagine."

For a moment, Draco thought he detected a hint of pride in his aunt's smile. It made him feel odd. Displays of affection were rare in old wizarding families and he'd always enjoyed it when his mother spared a kind word for him, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be admired by the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange. She might start to get ideas about gaining him early entry into Voldemort's inner circle. The current age to be admitted was 25, as the Dark Lord claimed he couldn't suffer the presence of 'pretentious upstarts fresh out of Hogwarts and that bumbling fool Dumbledore's influence', but there had been talk of lowering the age to 20. For Draco, that was only a year away. While he had nothing against the Dark Lord's Mudblood-hunting activities, he wasn't sure he was ready to be part of something like that. Muggle-bashing was fun on a certain level, but he had no desire to end up in Azkaban because some whiny Mudbloods had complained about him. Playing tricks such as this one, where the law stated he was perfectly in his right to do so, were much more amusing and effective.

"Come on, Granger, let's show you to your quarters," Draco laughed with a mock bow, turning Granger so she could see him. "You've probably never seen anything like them, so try to enjoy them while you can."

He floated her upstairs ahead of him, making her zigzag along the corridor so she almost hit various vases and statues, but veering her off-course at the very last second. He knew he was being childish, but who knew how long this opportunity would last? Before he had to give her up again, he would make her pay for every single test she had beaten him on, for every single insult and condescending look.

"Here you go."

Without further warning, he moved her through the open door to the room next to his and lifted the curse. She fell to the floor with a scream, dress pooling around her. The room was far more beautiful than she deserved. With its elegant four-poster bed, large fireplace and window seat overlooking the gardens, it was fit for the noble daughter of a pure-blooded wizarding family. It was decorated in pale lilacs and soft blues and Draco thought he could still detect a whiff of Pansy's perfume. The smell made him want to gag. He would have to have words with Perky about that. Glaring up at him, Hermione clutched an ankle that was poking out from beneath the pale fabric of her dress.

"You complete monster! Let me go!"

Leaning against the doorframe, Draco kept his wand pointed at her. She might be powerless, but he wasn't taking any chances. She was the most powerful witch in his year, after all, and even if he was pretty certain she couldn't do wandless magic, he wouldn't put it past her to try and punch him.

"That's not going to happen, I'm afraid. Come on, Granger, don't tell me you were actually enjoying that farce of a ceremony back there. You and I both know you could do better than Weasley... if only you weren't a Mudblood and a know-it-all pain. Those details do lower your prospects drastically, but never mind. You should really be thanking me for saving you from a loveless marriage."

"Ron does love me," Hermione snapped, her anger burning in her eyes. Still on the floor, she crawled towards the bed, her ankle dragging behind her. Draco wondered if she had really hurt herself or if it was all an act. You could never be too careful with Gryffindors.

"Perhaps he does, although not as much as he loves himself. But tell me, Granger, do you love him? Can you honestly tell me right now that you were ready to spend the rest of your life with him? To watch him wave your wand around, pretending he actually knows how to use it? To let him come to you at night, touch you with his bumbling paws and put his children inside you?"

Her back propped up against the side of the bed, Hermione glared at him, but Draco thought he detected a note of uncertainty in her expression. 'Good… this is something I can work with. Weasley and Potter will be easy to work on, but if I can break you too, Granger…' For a moment, he thought he could see the appeal of her. The rage in her eyes gave her a certain feistiness that made his insides tingle. He watched the way her low-cut bodice hugged the curves of her breasts, the way the fabric moved as she breathed heavily, struggling to regain her composure. Yes, there was a lot of fun to be had with this situation, even if all he did was look.

"Better him than you, that's for sure! If you think I'm going to let you touch me, you're mistaken, Malfoy! You're going to pay for this. Harry and Ron won't let you get away with it!"

"Oh really," said Draco, a little more forcefully than he'd intended. The fact that she would rather sleep with Weasley despite clearly having no feelings for him made Draco feel somewhat jealous. She might be a lowly Mudblood, but he was far more attractive than that freckled weasel could ever hope to be. "I'm sorry to break the news to you, sweetheart, but they just did. Your fiancé and his idiot friend let me carry you right out of your wedding without lifting a finger. Even Albus Dumbledore didn't try to save you, so who do you think is coming for you now? No one. You thought you were so lucky and special when you discovered you could do magic, but you really don't know anything about the wizarding world. It's not all Wingardium Leviosas and mermaids, Granger. It's time you learnt your place."

"And what's that? Do you expect me to become your little harlot without a fight? Do you really think I'm going to let you treat me like some slave? You're the one who's completely delusional. I don't know what ideas that horrible aunt of yours planted in your head, but it's clear to me that you really don't know what you're doing, Draco."

Perhaps it was the way she said his first name, or perhaps it was the fact that it wasn't all going as well as he'd hoped, but Draco could feel the sting of her words reach deep down inside of him. She was supposed to cower away from him and beg him not to take her. It was supposed to make him feel powerful, not like some little boy who'd made a mistake when casting his first spell. This was why he hated her, he realised. Never mind that she was a Mudblood and that she always paraded her achievements in front of everyone. Granger was the one with the knack to get under his skin. With Weasley and Potter, if things got too out of hand, all he needed to do was cast a couple of well-placed curses or even throw a good punch and the problem would be solved for a while. But Granger had a way of getting inside his head that drove him crazy. Almost as if she knew him better than he did, sometimes…

"We'll see about that," was all Draco said before leaving, slamming the door and locking it behind him.

"How does the Mudblood like her new cage?" Bellatrix asked lightly at dinner that evening, mashing a potato with the back of her fork.

"Why do I care if she likes it or not?" Draco grumbled. He would have preferred to eat alone in his room, brooding over the day's events, but Bellatrix had insisted he join her. Casting a glance over the table, Draco shuddered to think what she had threatened the house elves with to force them to come up with such an elaborate meal. There was enough food for a dozen people, and Bellatrix seemed to be only playing with her plate's contents rather than eating them.

"Exactly. I really don't see why that little bitch can't sleep in one of the oubliettes-"

"Enough," said Draco, holding up his hand. It was bad enough having Granger question his motives. He really didn't need Bellatrix to join in. "I said I was putting her in that room and that is where she will stay, at least for the next three days. She can't be trusted and I want to keep an eye on her. We can't have her escaping while our backs are turned."

"Nothing a few manacles wouldn't put an end to…" Bellatrix muttered, finally taking a bite of potato. "I didn't hear any screaming earlier, so I guess you haven't broken her in-"

"NO! And it's none of your business. I thought you wouldn't want me to touch her anyway…"

Bellatrix scowled at him and began to cut into her steak.

"That's not what I said. I told you to have a little fun… It wouldn't be the first time a wizard of high standing ruined a lowly Mudblood for his own entertainment, trust me."

Pushing his food to the far side of his plate, Draco made a face. He did not want to know how she knew that. There were some things that just shouldn't be talked about with members of one's family and Draco was fast discovering that despoiling your worst enemy was one of them.

"Look, I'm not an idiot, nephew. I've been around enough men to know they can't control themselves, especially at your age. I know all about your little ventures to the brothels of Hogsmeade and beyond."

"Who told you that?" Draco spluttered, spitting the wine he'd just been sipping onto the previously white table cloth. More work for the elves. Why couldn't the damn woman just stay in her quarters like he did? They could live peacefully enough if they just ignored each other, so why did she insist on meddling so much?

"Your father, actually. He's been worried about your adventures, Draco. Especially the ones that end up in Muggle neighbourhoods of ill-repute, if you know what I mean."

"Why should you care? You just practically told me to go and rape Granger!"

Bellatrix sighed and closed her eyes.

"You're not very clever sometimes, my dear boy. Didn't your father ever teach you that some Muggle whores carry diseases that could strip you of your magic? You won't get rashes like a common Muggle if you get syphilis, Draco. You'll lose your powers and become a burden on your family. Is that what you want? To end up a Squib just for the sake of a few cheap thrills? At least we can be pretty sure Granger is safe, on that front. That little witch is so uptight she won't know what's hit her… so my advice is to have your fun while you can. Because I can't see your father putting up with this for much longer."

Teeth grinding together, Draco stared at his aunt. Who was she to give him lessons when she was guilty of so many reprehensible things she should have been living in Azkaban since the age of twelve? Of course he knew about the dangers of Muggle venereal diseases and had always protected himself accordingly. What he couldn't stomach was the idea that his father knew and had been talking about it with other people, especially his aunt Bellatrix. Had Lucius told his wife? Draco couldn't bear the thought of his mother knowing some of the things he'd been up to. He'd always managed to stay relatively pure and innocent in her eyes and even if it was a deception, he quite enjoyed being loved unconditionally by at least one person. He was just about to snap at Bellatrix when she put her hands up and leaned back in her chair.

"Frankly, Draco, it's up to you. You can make that Mudblood lick the floor in front of you for all I care, but remember your parents. Remember the Dark Lord's expectations. I was there that night in Swindon with your father, and I can tell you the Dark Lord will stop at nothing until he gets an answer, no matter who it comes from. Can you imagine what he'll do to your mother if your father doesn't have the answer?"

Draco blanched. Nothing was worth the torture Narcissa Malfoy would suffer if her husband didn't obey the Dark Lord. Bellatrix was right, they needed to end this. And if Granger was the key, then so be it. Draco had no reservations about hurting the Mudblood's feelings, or even her body, if it meant saving his mother. Feeling a little sick, he pushed away his plate, hating himself for letting Bellatrix get to him. If only she had stayed away and let him carry on obliviously. Standing up, he took his glass of wine with him and made to leave. Bellatrix caught his arm as he walked past her. Only this time, Draco didn't flinch.

"If you want to make Potter and Weasley mad, all you need to do is give them some proof…"

Draco waited until he was out of the dining room to finish his wine. It was not nearly as powerful as firewhiskey, but it set his blood boiling as he pounded up the stairs and down the corridor towards his room… and hers. In a fit of fury, he flung the delicate crystal cup against the wood panelling of the hallway and watched the shards sparkle like ice as they fell to the floor. Even more work for the elves. Who cared? Wasn't he supposed to be above such considerations? Shoulders squared, he marched towards the door of Granger's room and unlocked it with a clumsy wave of his wand. The frightened squeak of an elf reached his ears and he froze on the doorstep. Whimsy, another of the Malfoy elves, was in the middle of helping Granger remove her wedding dress. There was an untouched plate of food on the dressing table in front of her, food that had come from the same dishes served to Draco and Bellatrix downstairs. The sight of it sent him flying over the edge.

"What are you doing? Who told you to feed her?"

Whimsy dropped the laces she had been undoing and fell in a heap on the floor, hands clutched together in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Master. I came in to light the fire and Miss Granger said she was hungry. We thought that with all the extra food downstairs, you wouldn't mind…"

"Get out! NOW!"

Scrambling out of the way, Whimsy shot Hermione an apologetic glance before scurrying out of the room. Hermione tried to pull the fabric of her dress up to cover herself, but Draco made it vanish with a flick of his wand. What was he even doing? Was this the wine acting or a darker part of his soul, one that was already so twisted and corrupt it didn't need alcohol to spur it along? Then it came back to him. Bellatrix had told him to obtain proof. Walking towards the chair Hermione was still sitting in, Draco let his gaze roam over her.

She was wearing a type of shift he had only seen once, on his latest foray into a Muggle house of pleasure in London. The girl he had enjoyed there had flaunted it, assuring him it was the latest fashion, and he'd enjoyed undoing the silk ties down each side of her body, kissing the spaces in between. It had amazed him that Muggles were capable of such brilliant ideas, not that he would ever have admitted such a thing in public. And yet here they were again, these flimsy panels of fabric, intricately embroidered and laced up just loosely enough to show that tantalising strip of pale skin down the sides. Granger had her arms crossed over her chest and he could only imagine what lay beneath them, delicately encased in the pure white fabric. It was enough to render him speechless for a moment.

"Don't you dare punish that elf for trying to help me, Malfoy. She was only being polite."

"She went against my orders."

This wasn't true, strictly speaking, as he had given no orders whatsoever where Granger's food and comfort were concerned. If he hadn't been so rattled from the conversation at dinner, he would never have given it a second thought. After all, he wasn't exactly planning on starving her, even if the thought held a certain appeal. Trying hard to compose himself, Draco focused on Granger's mouth, which was set in a thin line. Even that didn't help entirely.

"Stop staring at me like that," she snapped. "You're making me uncomfortable. What do you want anyway? Are you here to end this ridiculous farce and return me the Burrow? If not, then I don't want to know."

His hand balling into a fist inside the folds of his robe, Draco forced a smirk onto his face. If she wanted to push him, then so be it. Lunging forward, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to the bed, revelling in the fact that he was much stronger than she was. She could whine and hiss and spit at him like a cat, he could still push her around if need be. Although he felt slightly ashamed of that thought on some deeper level, the wine and anger in his blood egged him on. He was acting Lord of Malfoy Manor. There was no one around to stop him now.

"What are you doing? Don't-"

Stopping short of the bed, Draco pulled Hermione towards him so their bodies were almost touching. He could feel the warmth of her body through his clothes and smell the faint floral scent of her hair that drew him in and made him want to run his hands over the slight swell of her breasts, down the side of her body and over her full hips, pulling those silk ties free as he went. His grip around her arm tightened.

"Don't what? Don't tell me what to do, Granger. You're not in a position to negotiate. Now take off your knickers."

Her mouth fell open ever so slightly and it was all Draco could do to stop himself from leaning in to claim her lips with his own. 'This is the alcohol's doing,' he told himself. 'She is a disgusting, filthy low-life Mudblood who deserves to…' But even his thoughts seemed to be failing him. Instead, he waited as she took in his request.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm perfectly serious. If you don't remove your knickers in the next five seconds, I'll do it for you."

Smirking, he let go of her arm and watched as she slowly bent over, her cheeks flaring a glowing shade of pink. Her hands slid underneath her shift and she undid the ribbon that made up the waistband of her knickers. They were the long kind, worn by both Muggles and witches alike, that ended just below the knee with a little frill of lace. He carried on watching, a smile still pulling at his lips, as she slid the garment off and stepped out of it. The shift fell back in place without having revealed anything, but he could only imagine how exposed she must feel. Not even Weasley, he realised with a small laugh, had gone this far. Granger seemed to think he was laughing at her, however, for she turned her head away in shame, hands gripping the hem of her shift to keep it as low as possible. Draco took a moment to admire her uncovered chest, the way her breasts stretched against the embroidered fabric, so rounded and perfect in their own way. He also let his gaze drop down to the strip of exposed flesh down her side, which now included a tantalising portion of thigh.

"Pick it up."

Knees pressed together, Hermione lowered herself as far as she dared before snatching up her undergarments and holding them against her chest, as if for protection.

"Give me your hand."

She shook her head. 'Of all the things she could have refused to do,' Draco mused before grabbing her wrist in an iron grip and pulling it towards him, leaving her holding the knickers with her other hand. Reaching into one of the deep pockets of his robes, he pulled out a small knife with a silver hilt shaped like a serpent. Hermione's eyes went wide and she tried to struggle away from him. His grip on her merely tightened as a result and he thought of the bruises that would surround her wrist like a bracelet, come morning. The desire to mark her skin caused him to bite his lip ever so slightly. Perhaps he should do it again in three days' time, just to make sure Weasley saw. Perhaps things would work out the way he intended after all.

"Please don't hurt me-"

Holding her hand up, he drew the knife across her palm and revelled in her gasp of pain, closing his eyes to let it sink down to his core. When he opened them again, he watched the blood run freely from the wound, trickling down over her wrist and his own fingers. Her dirty, filthy, hot blood… Before Draco lost it completely, he snatched her knickers from her and pressed her bloody hand into the crotch, spreading the stain carefully so there wouldn't be any finger marks. When he had finished, he let her hand drop and stood back to admire his work. Hermione instantly grabbed the cover off the bed and pulled it around her body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shoulders shaking as she hid her face in the silky blanket. Let her cry. That had been close. Far too close.

"Thank you, Granger. If you carry on doing as I say, your stay here doesn't need to be nearly as unpleasant as you imagine it will be. As a gesture of goodwill, I'll let you keep that plate of food and send Whimsy up to run you a bath. Now be a good girl and get yourself cleaned up while I go owl these to your fiancé."

Deaf to her sobs, Draco walked out of the room and locked the door behind him, before leaning back against the panel and letting out a deep, unsteady breath. He had his very first piece of evidence, but it had nearly cost him his restraint to obtain it. The whores he had lain with and the girls he had fooled around with in school were very different from the beautiful, quivering young woman in the room behind him. They had always been confident and eager to please him, almost too eager sometimes. The fear in his archenemy's eyes, the raw potential in her never-before-touched curves made his loins ache with longing. The owl to Weasley would have to wait a while longer. Bundling Hermione's bloody underwear in his hands, Draco disappeared into his room.

A/N: so there you have it. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, the tension had me on the edge of my seat there (if you spot any mistakes, it was because my fingers were trying to type faster than they actually can). If you liked it, please leave me a review!