All she felt was his breath on her cheek, and his hand up her skirt. The bookshelves never stood a chance against the weight of the heavy secret they carried through each powerful glare into each other's eyes. "So you think you're a big girl do you, Hermione?" He smirked, grabbing her hair and tilting her head back. The bookshelves swayed dangerously in the dark. "Hmmm? Is that it?"

His hand ran the course of her leg, first tracing up the outer thigh with his nails so it hurt just enough, then to the inner thigh. She gasped only slightly as he observed her features in the moonlight that was falling through the window in a gorgeous display. Her eyes, her lips, everything about her was so alluring he wanted to... his hand slipped from her thigh to her underwear.

"Draco..." She whispered, testing the waters, unsure of his motives.

"Hermione..." He whispered back mockingly, tracing his finger in a circular motion over the cotton panties. He leaned in so his breath was so painfully touching her ear, "Care to play a game of nervous?"

"I'm not nervous of you..."

He moved his finger over just the right spot, feeling how hot and bothered she was becoming. "Sure about that?" His voice was soothing, erotic, and anything but innocent. She moved her head slightly to the left, and he leaned in, grazing the open flesh of her neck with his lips. Her eyes all but fluttered in excitement.

He couldn't take it anymore. His fingers found their way up to the edge of her panties, first sliding one side down, then the other, so that they fell to her ankles. Then his hand went back into position, and he stroked her with his middle finger. "You're wet."

"Wonder who's fault that is..." She said through clenched teeth, trying to hold back the sheer wanting to moan and sigh.

He chuckled. "Hiya," And with that he slid his finger deep into her, giving her no proper warning or notice. She arched her neck and groaned slightly, and so he continued, bringing his finger in and out, curling it and releasing, rising the tension. When he was sure she was enjoying it, he pushed another finger into her, which almost made her scream. Her breath caught as he hit that very personal spot, and he cooed in her hear, "Shh... can't make a sound, remember?" His fingers twisted, widening her.

"S-Sorry..." She muttered, grasping onto the bookshelf behind her for dear life.

"Its okay. I--" He cut himself off as the clambering of something from the other end of the study caught his attention. "Did you hear that?" He tilted his head in the direction of the sound, still pumping her with his fingers slowly.

"Draco, I-I didn't hear... oh yes... anything..." She took one of her hands and tilted his head back to her. "Please..." Her soft eyes pleaded with him, and they won over his in the end. He smirked down at the gentle girl in front of him, emotions lost. And finally, he leaned in, so that nose was touching nose, and her breath could be felt on his lips. And then...

"Shh..." He stopped all ministrations, pulling his fingers out of her. "Someone's coming..." There was a light at the end of the study – faint, but noticeable. "Shit. Get dressed."

How would be the way to describe this setting before us. The war was over... Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort. It was nothing short of a miracle that Ron, Hermione, and Harry had come away with their lives. But even though the world was free of Voldemort, it didn't mean the world was free of evil. A year or so after the end of the War, a rebellion had occurred against the Ministry Of Magic. It was rumored that Lucius Malfoy had been the one behind it all -for he had not died as many had thought. No, Lucius was a deceiving man, and he had faked his own death before Voldemort's defeat, as to not cause attention to himself in fear. And it was that fear that drove him to his insanity. But whatever the cause for the fall of the Ministry of Magic, no one knew exactly.

All anyone ever knew was that Harry Potter had disappeared two years ago, and a new evil was rising.

Lucius's armies were rising by the day -he had recruited old Death Eaters and spoke of being the chosen heir to Voldemort's reign. The Death Eaters, stricken with fear and suffering, believed Lucius's lies. He had offered his son, Draco Malfoy, the opportunity to rule as his father's right hand man, and when Draco refused, saying that it wasn't worth the time of day, Lucius had summoned up a hate so strong that it turned into a spell which stripped Draco of all his powers.

"You will be as the muggle filth you have condemned yourself to protect."

So here was Draco, a year without his powers, and trying to bang Hermione Granger in the study of a run down mansion that once was called Malfoy Manor. We'll get to why these two are even speaking, let alone trying to fuck each other, later. But for now, the light flickered down the dusty bookshelves, inching its way closer and closer to the pair. Draco wanted to believe that it was someone who was just having a look around, but knew better.

He mouthed 'follow me', taking her hand and leading her down the book row. She gasped as soon as they were at the end of the shelves, for they could see the wisp of robes fly by as the stranger made his or her way down the first column of bookshelves. Draco, thankful that they had chosen a seclusive spot at the end of the rows, gripped Hermione's hand tighter and pulled her along, across the gap in the middle of the study, to the other book rows on the other side of the room. The light moved slowly, weaving in and out of the lines of shelves in an 'S' pattern.

Draco waited behind the end of one of the shelves, waiting... waiting... He held Hermione close, her back up against his chest, so they could both hide. Feeling her shaking beneath him, he tilted his head to have a look about and to make sure the light had not come their way thus far. It hadn't. It was still at the other end of the room, and Draco could see the outline of a tall, lean man holding a wand that glowed at the end. The light didn't shine bright enough to show the face of the intruder, however. Without thinking, Draco put his hands to his pockets, searching for something that wasn't there. Hermione noticed his desperate attempt and pulled out hers – her wand. It was no secret that Draco didn't carry a wand anymore -for what was the need? But still, it didn't change the automatic response to danger...

And, realizing that he was of no real use but to be the navigator, Draco leaned over and whispered in her ear, "When I squeeze your hand, I want you to run. Forget about being quiet, we're getting the Hell out of here." He waited until the trespasser made its way down the parallel shelves, then past Draco and Hermione. "Now." He squeezed her hand tightly, and they were off, whizzing down the bookshelves as fast as their legs could carry them. Their feet made loud clanking noises, and the stranger jerked his head in the direction of the sound. "Come on!" Draco yelled, making it to the door. He twisted the handle, but it was locked. "Dammit! -Granger, make with the magic!"

Draco stood in front of Hermione, guarding her as the intruder began to sprint his way towards the door.

"Umm... Alohomora! -Er... Lockterspellourus... -Draco, its not working...!"

"Try Serpetmorium!" Draco prepared himself, rolling up his sleeves in defense. The stranger slowed down, lifting his wand, ready to--

"Serpetmoruim!" Hermione shouted, and the door handle flew open. She jerked Draco with her through the door and slammed the door shut just in time to see a green light flash on the other end of the doorway.

"Thanks, Hermione, I owe you one..." He gasped, grabbing the handle. On the other end, the handle twisted, but Draco kept a firm grip on his side. "Quick! Lock it!"

"Let go of the handle, Draco."

"What? Are you bloody fucking nuts, woman?"

"Do it!"

"Fine!" He jerked the handle open, and the stranger fell through the door just as Hermione screamed, "Petrifcus Totalus!" The man fell forward, arms bound to either side of his body, and landed with a thud. "Nice work. Now get his wand."

"I'm not your little slave, you know..." Draco sneered, picking up the man's wand in one quick motion. "So who do we have here?" He rolled the man over with his foot to look the man square in the face. The first thing he noticed was the shaved black head and the sneer plastered on the person's face. "Blaise Zabini... What a pleasant surprise. Now what on earth are you doing at Malfoy Manor this time of night, hmm? Patrolling for my father? Oh, now Blaise, you shouldn't have." The mocking tone set in Draco's voice very nicely. "Honestly, I can escort myself around this God-forsaken Hell-hole called the wizarding world without a piece of shit like you following me around all the time."

"We should take him to headquarters." Hermione spoke, fixing out her skirt.

" 'We should take him to headquarters.'" Draco mocked. "See what I have to put up with all day, Blaise?" Blaise made no comment back. How could he? "Honestly, Granger, sometimes I think you're real bright, and then you come up with the stupidest plans I've ever heard of."

"Alright, Malfoy, what do you suggest we do?" She asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"Leave the shit to rot here."

"And then someone will come along, find him, and he'll tell all about us. We have to take him with us, Draco, its the only way."

"No its not. He really could die here. Nobody comes to Malfoy Manor anymore."

"Except you, me," Hermione levitated Blaise into the air, "And him." They stood in silence. "He's coming with us, Draco, whether you like it or not."

"Fine." Draco grumbled. "Got the floo powder?"

"Don't I always?" She pulled a small bag of powder from the coat pocket of her robes. "Lead the way, Malfoy."

Draco smirked, taking the lead as he guided himself, Hermione, and a levitating Blaise down the old, dusty hallways to a room five doors down from the study. "The fireplace is in this room." The door squeaked as he opened it, revealing a room that hadn't been occupied in God-knows how long. The Malfoy Manor had been abandoned three years ago, and every single bit of it showed. The room was musty and solemn with its peeling walls and thick layers of dust. "This was my father's work room," Draco stated as they entered. "I used to come in here every night and force him to read me a bedtime story, even when he had business or company."

"Spoiled git..." Hermione mumbled.

"Better believe it." Draco smirked, standing in front of a grand fireplace. "Who's going first?"

"I think you best go first. I'll wait until you and Blaise are settled in at headquarters."

"Why do I have to lug the big lug around?" Draco muttered. "I better be getting a reward for this." He smirked, leaning in. She tilted her head to the side just in time, however, and he missed. "I mean it. Maybe not right now, but I better be getting a reward later." His hands found their way to her ass, giving it a light squeeze. The dangerous look in his eyes foreboded her. He then picked up a bit of flu powder, shoved the levitating Blaise into the fireplace, stepped into it himself, and shouted, "The Willow!"

The gut wrenching feeling pulled at him, but before he knew it he was standing in a fireplace much less elegant and much more used. Around him was a kitchen and dining area, meshed into one rather large room. The walls were made of wood, as were the floors. "Oy! Weasley! Where the Hell are you, you git?"

He pulled the levitating Blaise out of the fireplace by the foot and left him floating in the middle of the dining room. Footsteps were heard from somewhere off in another room, possibly upstairs. And not too long after that, a man with bright red hair stepped in the room, wearing a rather large green sweater. "Where's Hermione? Is she alright?"

"She's fine. Relax. I didn't touch a precious hair on your precious Granger's head." Draco mumbled as another poof was heard, and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace.

"Ronald!" She smiled, exchanging a rather long and intimate hug with him. Draco made gagging noises in the background as Ron leaned in and kissed Hermione square on the lips.

"See?" Draco grumbled. "Told you. Not one hair on your girlfriend's head." He made slight eye contact with Hermione before turning his attention to Blaise. "So now what? The torture room?"

"Malfoy, did you ever stop to think maybe we could get evidence out of him without using the torturing methods?" Hermione inquired, brushing the floo powder off of herself.

"Only once." Ron grinned, "But then he realized he was a mug-mug... gle..." That got Draco's attention. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he whipped around and grabbed Weasley by the scruff of his collar.

"I swear to Merlin if you ever call me that slimy, despicable name again I'll rip out your tongue and feed it to that proud lion that once represented Gryffindor. Got it, you prude git?"

"G-Got it," Ron squeaked, and Draco let him go. But Ron didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. "You-You know I'm surprised you even were able to get back here, though, with floo powder... considering you're not a wizard anymore."

"Ron, don't you know when to quit?" Hermione beckoned, seeing the flushed look in Draco's cheeks. "Honestly, sometimes you can be such a prude git..." She rested a hand on Draco's arm, in which he shrugged off immediately.

"Lets just get the answers we need." Draco sneered, clenching his fists into balls. "Okay?"

"Okay..." Hermione nodded, looking to the levitating Blaise. "But lets try to get answers out of him the nice way first, alright?"

"Fine, but when your fucking plan falls through, come talk to me." Draco smirked, setting down the wand once owned by Blaise on the kitchen counter.

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