A/N: *Scuttles in under cover of darkness while all the Americans are drunk*

*Desperately covers just how looonnnggg it's been since the last update*

*Is horrifically sorry about the long hiatus*

*Clear throat and, hope-filled, holds out the chapter*

*Blinks puppy-dog eyes, begging forgiveness for taking so long and being so rubbish at this timely updates thing*

*Hangs head when she realises there is no one here because it's been so long and you've all died waiting or just given up on me*

*Lets the pages flutter in the wind as she sniffles and totters out of the room*

xx-Kitten.

The Silver Dragon

By Kittenshift17

Chapter 16

Hermione blinked in shock at his muttered confession, a flip of nerves and happiness tumbling within her midsection and making her lightheaded. She wondered if she was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or if this was some cruel joke that he was playing upon her. Twisting in his grip, Hermione peered at him over her shoulder, noting the way he avoided her eyes.

"You… are you joking?" she asked quietly.

"Have I ever joked when referring to how I feel about the bitch I'm engaged to, Granger?" Draco asked, lifting his head from the middle of her back and meeting her gaze.

"I… no," Hermione admitted, turning to face him and pulling her jeans back up when he pulled out of her and moved back a few paces.

She stared at him, bewildered, wondering if maybe she should finally put him out of his misery and tell him that the likelihood of his being able to marry Astoria was extremely slim, given that he was already married to her, instead. He avoided her eyes, tucking himself back into his trousers and refastening them before crossing back to the minibar fridge and picking up another bottle of liquor, downing it in one large gulp.

"Don't look at me like that, Granger," he warned when Hermione tracked him with her eyes, debating silently with herself about telling him the truth. "I'm well aware that it's a problem."

"I… Malfoy…" Hermione began, opening her mouth, intent on finally telling him the truth, consequences be damned.

She hadn't found a single loophole to undo the marriage contract between them, and it really wouldn't do to wait until his wedding day just to see the effects of his attempt to marry the other woman

"Granger, don't," he cut her off before she could say anything. "Like it or not, I have to marry Greengrass. My father is in too deep with her father to avoid it. What I want doesn't matter, that's been made abundantly clear to me. Just… forget I said anything, yeah? It's not important, and I'll get the fuck over it."

"Malfoy," Hermione tried again, frowning at him.

He clenched one of his fists.

"Look, I didn't mean to say anything, alright, Granger. I was going to just squash it down, fuck you until doing so will be too perilous to my marriage, and then put you out of my head. I know you're not interested in me like that, outside of a good shag. Just… forget I said anything," he muttered, looking frustrated before downing another bottle of liquor.

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him, not liking the sound of being told he'd just shag her until he got married and then drop her like she meant nothing to him.

"What would happen if you didn't marry Greengrass?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"My father would probably murder me," Malfoy admitted, looking over at her and frowning. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

Hermione scowled at him.

"Nothing," she muttered, looking away before stalking toward the bathroom. "Nothing that constitutes more than a good shag until you're married, right? This can never happen again and all that fucking bullshit we've been saying for since we first woke up in that cheap hotel room years ago."

"Granger…" Malfoy began, following her, sounding uncertain. "I just said…"

"I heard what you said," Hermione snapped. "You said you'll fuck me until you can't anymore. Like I'm just a bad fucking habit that you'll kick when the perfect little pureblood princess that your parents approve of becomes your wife."

She closed the bathroom door in his face when he moved to follow her. He pounded on the door angrily when she locked it, fighting the urge to scream or cry or dump the wretched bloody truth on him that he was too fucking late and that she was pretty sure the only way he'd ever kick her as a habit and as his wife would be if he murdered her.

"Blast is all, Granger! Open the door," he called, banging on the door again sounding frustrated. "Damn it, witch! I said that I've been fucking angry because I have to marry her when I want you! Or did you conveniently forget that part so you can be in a strop."

"You also said it wasn't important! You don't want me," Hermione scoffed through the door. "You just want someone who'll let you fuck them in whatever kinky way strikes your fancy. And I guarantee that little bitch won't let you spank her and choke her and get rough with her like I do."

"Which is why I want you, and not her!" he snarled. "Open the fucking door, Granger, or I'll break it down."

"Just leave me alone, Malfoy," Hermione said, leaning against the sink and trying to control the irrational jealousy and anger pounding through her skull.

She knew it was irrational because the bastard was already her husband, and Astoria Greengrass didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of stealing him from her. Not when they had a full, pureblood-style contract in place between them, signed and officiated by the Ministry. Not when they'd consummated that marriage many times over since the night that they'd tied the knot so many months ago. Not when Hermione was beginning to think that the very last thing she wanted was to find a way out of this marriage contract, after all.

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when, with a clever bit of magic, Malfoy did exactly as he'd threatened and broke the bathroom door down.

"I warned you," he said when she looked at him wide-eyed with surprise that was quickly morphing into outrage.

"You don't just get to invade when I've locked myself in a room to put some distance between us, Malfoy," Hermione argued hotly, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

"You don't get to ignore the facts I'm offering you for the sake of being irrational," he replied evenly, folding his arms over his chest and propping his should in the doorjamb, glaring at her in return.

"The facts are that your family exact you to marry that little brat, and you're going to go along with it," Hermione said coolly. "And you seem to be operating under the assumption that I'll just keep shagging you whenever it takes your fancy until that happens, and that I'm just going to go quietly once you're trapped with her. I'm not just a toy to be picked up and played with at will, and then discarded when you're bored, Malfoy."

"A though I could ever be fucking bored of you?" he demanded, raising his eyebrows in challenge and eyeing her doubtfully.

Hermione almost melted.

Merlin, she was in over her head. She would have to tell him about them being married. She would have to tell him that this wasn't just sex between them anymore and maybe that she didn't think it had been for quite some time. She had feelings for him, Hermione realised as she eyed him sceptically in return. She'd gone and gotten herself entangled in him when she knew he was off limits outside of wild sex.

Merlin curse it all, she was a fool.

"You can't just confess that you want me and not her, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly. "She's your fiancé."

"And you're my bloody…" he began hotly before stopping himself, cutting off whatever dangerous thing he'd been about to say.

Hermione blinked at him, silently willing him to go on, to give her some sign that he wouldn't take finding out they were married as badly as she feared he was going to. Goddess, how she wanted him to go on. How she wanted him to quantify what this thing was between them on an emotional level. They'd been shagging for years, even if only sporadically when the wretchedness of life got the better of them. And they were flipping married because things had gotten a bit too out of hand.

But he was engaged to another woman. He didn't know they were married. He didn't know that Hermione had been pushing him away for the sake of figuring out how to terminate their marriage contract without notifying him of its existence. He didn't know that she was afraid she was falling in love with him.

"Go on," she said finally when he clenched his jaw and looked away, refusing to finish. "I'm your what, Malfoy?"

"You know," he told her without meeting her gaze.

"I don't," Hermione argued. "I'm the woman you shag when things get too rough and the opportunity arises."

"You know that's not all this is, Granger," he said softly, looking away from the tiles of the shower-wall and finally meeting her gaze. "I just bloody told you that you're all I want."

"You're saying you have feelings for me?" Hermione pressed, not about to open her mouth and let him know about their marriage if he wasn't as invested in this as she needed him to be. As she feared she was.

His jaw clenched again, the muscle there beginning to tick, and Hermione knew he'd never been good at expressing such sentiments. Hell, unless it was anger, jealousy or cruelty, he had trouble expressing any emotion at all.

"I'm saying that I'm thinking really hard about having her killed to get myself out of this engagement," he said finally, and Hermione narrowed her eyes.

She hated that she could never tell with him whether it was merely that she was a distraction from his life, or whether he was actually interested in her. He always spoke about wanting to be free of his engagement, but he refused to terminate it. He always said he hated the woman, and he'd even admitted to preferring Hermione, but there was always a tone to it that suggested it was only because she was around. As though, if it wasn't her that he was using to distract himself, it would just be some other witch. She didn't doubt that he loathed Astoria. But Hermione doubted he loved her. He wanted a way out, not an alternative marriage option.

"So, do it, Malfoy," Hermione said quietly, pushing past him in the doorway. "If you refuse to break off the engagement for the sake of avoiding disownment, and if you refuse to explain to your family how you feel about being forced to marry the woman, but you still want out then kill her. Have her killed. Whatever. But don't stand there and try to tell me that you prefer me if you're not willing to do anything to permanently be rid of her."

"You're saying you'd forgive me for having her killed?" he asked, turning to stare at her in astonishment and it was Hermione's turn to fish one of the tiny bottles of alcohol from the fridge and tip it to her lips.

"I'm saying that if you're going to keep bitching about this problem with bothering to do anything about it, then I'm done listening," Hermione said harshly once she'd swallowed down the mouthful of Bombay Gin, and rather regretting it. "I'm done letting you think of me as Plan B, or as the space-warmer until your married life begins. I can't keep shagging you if you're going to drop me like a hot potato the minute you're married."

"You're the one who said you didn't want to be the other woman," he argued, scowling at her.

"I'm no one's mistress, Malfoy!" Hermione growled, hurling the tiny bottle – now empty – in his direction, outrage plain upon her face for the suggestion. "I'd sooner be your fucking wife than your mistress!"

His eyes widened at her words and Hermione closed her eyes, turning away and fisting handfuls of her hair in frustration. It would be the perfect moment to tell him. She should just fucking tell him. But gods, what if he was angry? What if this turned ugly? Worse, what if he hated the thought of being married to her and there was no way out? She was ninety-nine percent sure that the only way out of their marriage was death, and her fucking feelings weren't about to let her kill the snobby sod.

"Granger…" Malfoy said quietly when Hermione drew in a ragged breath, a sob catching in her throat with the frustration of this entire mess.

Hermione shook her head, refusing to turn and look at him. She couldn't. Not without blurting it all out.

"I'm going downstairs to see what kind of facilities they have," she announced instead. "Alone."

"Granger," Malfoy said, sound frustrated.

"Don't follow me, Malfoy," Hermione warned, collecting her purse and righting her clothing as she hurried for the door. "Just… I need time."

She heard him sigh heavily and when she peeked over her shoulder as she slipped out the hotel door, she saw that he'd dropped down to slump in the chair he'd bent her over, his hands over his face and his posture defeated.