Harry Potter 1. Prologue: The Invite

_Everyone is changing  
There's no one left that's real_- _**Blurry, Puddle of Mudd**_

_You told me once, so long ago now that I can hardly even remember when it was, that life was all just a game to you. Everything you did, everything you said was a move, and all of us around you were pieces of the game board._

Back then I didn't want to believe you, didn't want to think that you were actually that cruel, but I should have known better than to doubt you by then. Cruel was your nature, and you just loved to play games with others.

Years later I would look back on that stupid game you dragged us into, look at the way your scarred all of us for life, and wonder, just wonder, what you thought you were going to get out of it. Were you hoping for some satisfaction? Or was this some sick, twisted way you though you could prove that you were better than us.

What was your motivation, Draco? Did you even have one? Or were you just trying to hurt us? Tear us apart into smaller, insignificant pieces of ourselves. Were you really ever that cruel? Or was that a game, too?

- H.G. 

Hermione couldn't tell whether or not Harry looked more angry or more _bored_. She supposed it was probably a combination of the two by the way his brow was furrowed, but she wasn't sure. He kept pacing back and forth across the room, glancing from time to time at the others there. When he noticed her watching him he smiled, but it was forced. He didn't want to be there anymore than anyone else did. She could understand that, of course.

Three years had passed since she and Harry had graduated from Hogwarts, and out of the blue they had received letters, no, that wasn't it. They had received invitations. The thing was, the invitations were from the last person they had expected them to be from: Draco Malfoy.

True, they had called a tentative truce before leaving school, so, she supposed that he could no longer be considered their enemy, but it was still rather odd that he suddenly decided to send invitations to many of the people he hadn't gotten along with back in school to invite them to the Malfoy manor.

Hermione had decided upon receiving the invitation that she wouldn't go. However, when she heard that her friends had also received invitations, they had all agreed to go to see what it was that Draco Malfoy was up to.

Ginny grabbed Harry's arm, effectively stopping his pacing. He glanced at her briefly, and with one smile she seemed to calm him. He took a deep breath and sat down next to her, but his shoulders remained stiff with tension.

"About time he stopped that. He was about to make a hole in the floor."

The edge of her mouth twitched slightly. "Honestly, Ron, how on earth would Harry be able to pace a hole into the floor?"

Ron shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Dunno. Anything's possible though."

That, she silently conceded, was all too true. In the years she had been immersed in the wizarding world, she came to realize that things she had earlier thought to be impossible were, in fact, not at all.

She glanced around the room. Malfoy had managed to gather quite a few people at the manner. She figured they had all come for the same reason: to try to figure out what it was, exactly, that he wanted. She figured that even to this day no one really trusted him.

The doors to the library opened with a loud clank and in strode the man in question. He hadn't changed much in the last few years, except for his hair. It had lengthened considerably, mirroring in some fashion his father's hair. The white-blonde hair brushed past his shoulders, hanging in a shimmering curtain, but his eyes, cold and gray hadn't changed one bit. Deep inside those eyes held the Draco Malfoy they had always known.

Harry stood instantly. "What is all this about Malfoy?"

Hermione could swear that Malfoy seemed vaguely amused by the question, but he didn't answer him, walking across the room and stopping in front of her. He gave her the once over, then gave her that infernal smirk he had perfected before he even entered Hogwarts. "Never expected _you_ to show up, Granger."

Her back stiffened. "I hadn't planned to."

"Ah, I see. I suppose the Great Harry Potter had something to do with it, then."

She didn't answer, merely met his cool gaze evenly. If he thought he was going to get a rise out of her, he was sadly mistaken.

"What's this all about, Malfoy?"

"Patient, Weasley." He gave Ron an unfriendly look, then strode past him, shoving harshly into his shoulder and took a seat in one of the fancy chairs into the room. "You were all invited here to play a game."

From across the room Neville's unsure voice rose. "A game?"

"Yes, Longbottom, a game." He folded his hands in his lap, threading his long fingers together.

"What _kind_ of a game, Malfoy?"

"A game of deceit, Potter."

Hermione let out a small snort of contempt. "Naturally."

The edge of his mouth twitched, almost amused. "Indeed."

"And what is the point of this game, Malfoy?"

"The point, Potter, is to trick your way into winning. I would think that would be obvious." His gaze skipped around the room and came to rest upon Hermione as he continued. "The object of the game is to lie, to everyone, and convince as many people as you can that your lies are, in fact, truth. You must deceive people to the best of your ability. Everyone is your enemy in this game. The one who convinces people the best of their lies, is the winner."

"This is pointless." Harry stood in one fluid motion, heading for the door.

"Scared, Potter?"

Harry froze.

Malfoy smirked. "The famous Harry Potter is afraid to play a little game. How sad."

"I'm not afraid to play your game, Malfoy."

"Lovely. Then you'll play?"

"I didn't say that, either." Harry turned then to glare at Malfoy.

For his credit, the blonde merely looked bored. "Either you're going to play or you're too afraid to."

"Do we lie to _you_ as well?"

Malfoy arched an eyebrow at Hermione. "Of course."

"That's why you wanted to play this game, isn't it, Malfoy? You think you can lie better than any of us."

"Perhaps." He leaned forward in his seat. "Lying _is_ what I do."

Hermione gazed at him silently for several beats, then turns to look at Harry. "Let's play."

Harry looked stunned. "Are you serious, Hermione?"

"Why not? Why don't we beat Malfoy at his own game and shut him up?"

She could tell that the idea of showing up Malfoy in his own game was appealing to him by the way he hesitated. His mouth twisted up in thought, then, after some time, he nodded, almost reluctantly. "Alright. We'll play."

Malfoy smiled, albeit an evil smile. "Excellent. Any one who wishes not to play can leave now." No one moved. "Very well. The game begins tonight, at sundown. You leave the manor, you forfeit the game." He stood, striding across the room, brushing against Hermione as he did so. "Good luck, Granger."

As the door slammed behind him Hermione could feel her blood start to boil. She wanted to beat him so badly she could taste it, so no matter what, she would do just that.


	2. Uneasy

She could taste her desire to beat Malfoy on the tip of her tongue like some tangy fruit. Many times before she had wanted to shove it in his face that he wasn't the master of everything, much to his disillusion, but this time she had a fantastic excuse. A game, he had said. A game of deceit. Surely others could be just as deceiving, if not more so, than the great Draco Malfoy. And she was determined to prove just that. Yes, Hermione Granger wanted to beat Malfoy at his game so badly she was willing to bet anything that she could. Of course she was aware that certain bets were bad ones and she couldn't help but wonder if this was one of those times that it would have been safer to just walk away.

As soon as their host had left the room she had taken the opportunity to glance around the room at the people who had been her friends for many years. Could each of them lie their way through this game? Or would they all fall under the waves that Malfoy was undoubtedly trying to create and fail at their ultimate goal?

Neville, for one, was a person she couldn't actually imagine being good at this game. As meek as he had always been she was sure that the moment he had to prove he could deceive others he would stumble over his words and be found out. Of course, the was always the chance that he could surprise her and in fact be good at this little game.

And what was Malfoy's ultimate goal? Was it, like Harry insisted, that he wanted to prove himself a better liar than the rest of them? After all Malfoy had always been one to try to show people up at every turn. Or was he hoping to rip apart each of their lives? With lies, she reasoned, often came hidden truths. Would this game in fact reveal things about each of them they were all desperate to hide?

Malfoy wanted to destroy each of them in his own way, of this she was certain. How, however, was he ultimate question. One that she couldn't seem to find an answer to.

When Malfoy had first left the room there had been a hush that had fallen over it. Now, with his presence long gone, the room had errupted into lively discussions on how the hell the game was to be played to begin with. Surely there had to be rules, right? But if there were they had not been privy to them. The next day, perhaps, they would be let in on the fundamentals on what was and was not allowed.

Or maybe there were no rules. That, she figured, was much more Malfoy's style. Simply to have a goal and no boundaries when it came to how you could go about accomplishing said goal. It would make this game so much more fun for him if he could see just how far people were willing to go to win. And who would go beyond their usual selves to prove themselves more apt at lying than Malfoy himself? Harry obviously wasn't in the mood to lose to him, and with Ron's hatred for the Malfoy clan she couldn't see him backing down either. She herself was looking forward to trying to gain an advantage over them, trying to figure out how to get into each other their head and make them believe whatever lies she could manage to come up with. Would she be able to accomplish this? She herself couldn't even be absolutely certain.

Once the sound in the room had reached a point where she was beginning to get a headache she decided it was time to excuse herself. She carefully slipped out of the room, sliding herself through the small she made as she pulled the door open, hoping not to attract attention with her departure. Even going that far the noise level seemed to dull itself.

"Going somewhere, Granger?" Her gaze fell on Malfoy, leaning carelessly against he wall across the hall. Had he been listening in to the dull chaos he had started in the room? He must have been deriving great pleasure from all this. "I thought you were going to play the game."

"I _am_ going to play." Her voice left little room for argument. "I just don't want to sit and listen to them all talk at once. I'll wind up with a headache."

"Of course. And then you wouldn't be on top of your game in the morning, would you? And I so want you to be able to do your best." It was hard to tell whether or not he was being serious. "So, you decided to explore instead of sitting there?"

"I just wanted to get away from the noise."

"I see." He pushed himself off of the wall with a fluid grace that startled her. He was like an animal stalking prey. Was he sizing her up, trying to see if she was worthy enough to call competetion? Or was he just trying to make her feel uncomfortable enough that she wasn't going to be able to play the game to the best of her abilities? "Would you like to have a look around?"

"Here?"

"I have nothing to hide, Granger. And what kind of a host would I be if I weren't nice enough to show my guests around?"

"You'd be yourself"

"Very true. Come along then." He beckoned her over with a smooth flick of his wrist, long fingers curling in an unmistakable motion that meant for her to follow him. "I'll lead you to the room that was set up for you. The others will be lead to theirs later."

"Not by you, I take it."

"Naturally. But since you so rudely abandoned your friends I think you should be rewarded by a personal escort. Come along now. I'm not going to wait forever."

She set her jaw, determined not to let him get to her. She knew it was entirely impossible _not_ to get annoyed by Malfoy's mere presence, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he annoyed her so much. So she straightened her back and with as much of her pride as she could muster up she strode over to him in even steps, not allowing herself to even look half as annoyed as she felt.

The edge of his lip curled as though he were rather amused by the fact she was putting on a show for him. He turned to lead her down the long corridors, the length of his hair moving with each step he took. She wondered, very briefly, if it was soft or not. It looked shiny enough to be, but looks could be decieving and she certainly wasn't planning on finding out the answer to said question.

"Here you are, Granger." He stopped in front of an open door making a sweeping motion, putting it on display. "Your temporary home, as it were. I'm sure you'll find it to your liking."

She ducked around him to peer into the room. As dark as it was she could make out heavy maroon drapery on the windows and a huge wooden bed in the room. It was, she admitted, a lovely room. But she wasn't about to offer up that opinion.

"Does it meet your standards, Granger?"

She stepped into the room, gazing around as though she were intent on deciding whether or not it was in fact acceptable. Then, clasping her hands behind her back she turned to look at him, face blank. "I suppose this will do."

The edge of his mouth curled into what threatened to be a smile, yet he resisted. "Good to hear it." He stepped into the room like a panther, all elegant and stalking movements. "This room belonged to the mistress of my great-great-grandfather."

"His mistress lived with him?"

"Of course. Then he could go to her whenever he wanted." The edge of his mouth twitched. "Why would he have let her live somewhere else?"

"Most people don't bring their mistress into their home."

"His wife knew he had a mistress, of course. But he wanted her to be close to him. He enjoyed her being around."

"You mean he enjoyed shagging her?"

"Well, yes, I'm sure he did, but that wasn't what I meant, Granger. He actually enjoyed her being around."

"He cared for her then?"

"Yes. You might even go so far as to say he loved her."

"A Malfoy loving another person? I didn't think that was possible."

"It isn't as though we don't feel things." He faced her, pressing his back against the big wooden dresser next to the door. "We actually feel all the emotions that everyone else feel, Granger. We just don't show it as often as other people."

"But a Malfoy in love? Honestly."

"My father cares for my mother a great deal. Perhaps he even loves her."

"You don't know if he does?"

"It has never been an issue of great concern to me, to be completely honest."

"Is this all part of the game?" She folded her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing in on the arroagant man in front of her. "Are you starting out your lies already?"

"No, Granger. This isn't part of the game. And if this had been a lie, surely I could think of a better one."

"Then why tell me all of this if it isn't part of the game?"

"I thought this room would suit you."

"Is that your subtle way of calling me a whore?"

He shrugged elegantly, like the answer didn't really matter. "Take it how ever you wish to, Granger. It doesn't bother me." He ran his fingers along the dark wood of the dresser, eyes locked intently on hers. "No one mentioned a whore but you yourself. Guilty conscience? Shagging Potter and Weasley are you?"

"Who I am or am not shagging is none of your concern, Malfoy."

"I'll take that as a yes then."

"And you'd be wrong."

Now his trademark smirk curled his mouth up. "You just answered my question, Granger."

_Shit_, she thought. _The prat tricked me._ "I was defending myself," she hissed. "No girl in her right mind wants to be called a whore when she sure as hell isn't one. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Being so sensitive you're going to lose this game, Granger. If someone can get to you that easily how do you expect to make it very far?"

"I'll hold my own."

"I'm sure you'll try. So…tell me, Granger…" Malfoy pushed himself away from the dresser, moving towards her in a motion that could be described in no other way except gliding until he was right in front of her, cold eyes locked intently on her face. "Who was your first shag?"

She set her jaw, refusing to give into her desire to slap him. He was trying to get a rise out of her and if she hit him then that would mean he won. And she'd be damned before she'd let him win. Not then and certainly not that little game of his. No, she wouldn't hit him, nor would she let him know how much his question angered her. She would remain civil, level. Maybe if she did it would unnerve him. "That's none of your business, Malfoy," she answered evenly, meeting his eyes with open defiance.

"Humor me, Granger."

"I think not. Some things should remain private."

"Does that mean you're still a virgin, Granger? Couldn't find anyone who'd shag you?"

"Still not your business," she reminded him. "My sex life is not open for discussion."

"I think you're ashamed to admit you shagged the weasel. Am I right?" His gaze was intense enough where she took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions, her breathing. She hated that he was standing that close to her, his breath warm on her face and making the strands of unruly hair that refused to stay off of her face rub against her face. "You and Weasley, right?"

"Stop asking me, Malfoy. I'm not going to answer you."

"And that is an answer enough for me." His hand slowly moved towards her face, eyes remaining locked on hers. "You're ashamed. I would be too were I you. Then again, were I you I never would have let Weasley touch me." He turned his hand just in front of her face and pressed his thumb against her bottom lip, dragging the pad of it across. It was such an intimate touch that she gasped, making that insufferable smirk come back onto his face. "Problem, Granger?"

"Not at all."

"Then why do you look so flustered?"

_Do I?_ she wondered. _Do I look flustered? No, he's just being a prat. There is no way that Draco Malfoy flusters me._ "I'm not flustered," she said. "You must be hallucinating things."

"Oh, I assure you, Granger, I'm not hallucinating anything. You're flustered. Rather amusing actually." The pad of his thumb ran over her bottom lip again, his eyes faling down to follow their trail. "You normally would have pulled away from me by now. You do hate me, after all."

"You normally wouldn't have touched someone like me to begin with."

"Oh, but I do love seeing your reactions. Touching someone like you is worth it for that amusement. Now, why aren't you pulling away?"

"Practicing."

"Practicing?" Slowly his face was getting closer to hers to the point where she wondered how their noses weren't brushing. "Practicing for what?"

"The game. Trying to figure out how to keep my composure when the others are going to make me angry."

His head tilted to the side and the panicky side of her brain screamed that he was going to kiss her. Well, that and that he had obviously gone nutter since they were in school together. "Granger?"

She gulped, his mouth a breath away from hers. "Yes?"

"There's no way you're going to win the game." He smirked and turned his head quickly, his lips barely brushing against hers and strode out of the room never even glancing behind him.

She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling her heart pounding against it.

He had won this round.

She was determined to win the war.


	3. The Story Of Willow Roth

She was brushing out her still wet hair when she felt someone standing in the doorway of the bedroom. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the quiet of the room was about to be disturbed.

Turning slowly, her hair sticking to the side of her neck, she faced the doorway. Draco was leaning against the doorway, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Did you sleep well last night, Granger?"

Slowly she placed her brush down on the vanity and tightened the robe she wore. "I suppose I did. What brings you here so early in the morning?"

"A good host always checks on his guests." His eyes moved slowly up and down her body, taking note of the way part of her leg was visible through the gap in the robe. "And I'm trying so much to be a good host."

"I doubt that very much." She stood slowly so the robe moved a bit, cutting off his view of her skin. "You must have come here for a reason, Malfoy."

"This time you're right. I did. Remember that story I had started to tell you last night?"

"Not really."

"About the former inhabitant of this room."

"You mean the mistress of your ancestor?"

"The very same. I thought you'd like to see what she looked like." Pushing himself away from the doorframe he reached out into the hall and when his arm came back into view there was a painting in his hand. "Willow Roth was her name."

Hermione made her way slowly over to examine the painting. Taking the golden frame in her hand she watched as the woman on the canvas smiled at her. Her dark brown hair was curly and pinned on top of her head with delicate pins that had pearls on the ends. A long necklace fell around her neck with bright green gems, the end of it coming to rest between the swell of her breasts. "She's rather pretty."

"Actually, I think she looks a bit like you."

"Do you?" Dancing her eyes across the canvas again she had to agree there was a bit of a similarity between the way both of them looked. "I guess there is something similar about the two of us, yes. Is that why you gave me this room? Because I reminded you of her?"

"Perhaps that was why I did originally, yes." His long fingers grasped the painting in his hands and he pulled it away from her before placing it back out into the hall. "But I also thought you would enjoy this room. Did you not like it?"

"It was fine. If you're asking if I had trouble sleeping the answer is no. But I would have preferred it if I was able to sleep in my own bed."

"Most people do." Reaching out he grasped the edge of her robe, running his fingers up and down the silky fabric. "Nice robe, Granger."

"Thank you. It was a gift."

"From a boyfriend?"

"No, from my parents. They said I should have something nice to wear in the morning."

"I have to admit: they chose out a rather nice piece for you."

"I do believe you just complimented muggles." Sitting down on the edge of the bed she crossed her legs, the robe sliding down to rest on either side of them. "I don't think your parents would like that very much."

His eyes rested on her legs as he spoke. "I don't think they'd agree with many of the things that I've been doing or thinking lately, Granger. We haven't seen eye to eye in quite some time."

"Poor Malfoy. Do your parents not love you anymore?"

"Perhaps they don't."

Leaning back slightly she placed her hands behind her and put her weight on them, half lounging on the bed. "Tell me more about Willow."

He strode the rest of the way into the room and took a seat in front of the vanity, turning slightly in the seat so he could face her. "What would you like to know?"

"Whatever you know. I won't know if you're lying or not but it doesn't really matter. I'm just a bit curious."

"I don't really know all that much about her to be honest. Just little bits and pieces."

"Then tell me the bits and pieces."

"Well…she went to school with my great-great-grandfather. They spoke on occasion but they weren't what you would call particularly close. After school he married a woman of his family's choosing."

"An arranged marriage?"

"They weren't uncommon at all back then. Not all that uncommon now either, if you're a pureblood. Are you going to let me finish the story?"

"Of course. Continue."

"As I was saying: he married a woman of his parent's choosing. And while the woman wasn't completely horrible there was no love shared between them."

"Was this woman your great-great-grandmother?"

"Yes, she was."

"Sounds like such a _loving_ family history."

"Are you just going to keep interrupting me or are you going to let me finish this?"

"My apologies. Continue."

"Thank you. So for five years they remained married. The marriage wasn't loving but it was amicable. They both knew that their good names remained intact due to their marriage and that was all they were really concerned at the time. Then my great-great-grandfather was out one day and he ran into his old classmate."

"Willow."

"Yes. They sat and spoke and it was the beginning of a tentative friendship. And over time they grew closer."

"And then relationship became physical."

"That's the simplest way to put it, yes. Soon he came to care very much for Willow and moved her into the manor."

"And how did his wife feel about that?"

"As long as they kept a good public face and she remained the wife of someone in a high standing pureblood family she was less than inclined to make trouble."

"But that makes no sense."

"Why not?"

"What kind of a woman would be that willing to share her husband? It defies all rational."

"Maybe in your world, Granger. But in the world of purebloods extramarital affairs are rather common."

"Alright, so they happen. But how many of those wives are keen on having the mistress living under their roof?"

"Simple. The y live in the household and can be called permanent guests or staff and then the man isn't seen out and about seeing his mistress. That way people don't gossip."

"I still say that it makes absolutely no sense but I guess my opinion on the matter isn't really all that important."

"Not really, no. This all happened a long time ago, Granger. They're all dead now. And even if they weren't I highly doubt that your opinion would matter to them."

"Okay, there's one thing I don't understand."

"And what might that be?"

"Alright, you said he knew Willow back in school, right?"

"Yes."

"Did he like her even a tiny bit back at school?"

"A little, I suppose. They were never a couple or anything. But I suppose he probably fancied her, yes."

"Then why wouldn't he have requested to marry her? Surely his parents wouldn't have minded."

"Of course they would have."

"Why?"

"Like I told you: his marriage was arranged."

"But if he had feelings for another pureblood girl-"

"She wasn't pureblood."

Hermione stopped, blinking at him. She opened her mouth several times but wasn't sure what she was going to say. Shifting awkwardly she cleared her throat. "She wasn't a pureblood? I thought Malfoy's hated anyone who wasn't a pureblood."

"Most of the time that's true. But this wasn't a romantic relationship, Granger. It was sex. Didn't slave owners often sleep with their slaves? That was just sex. They looked down upon the slaves and yet they were fine when they needed sexual release. This is the same idea."

"I thought you said he cared about her."

"I was talking about the Malfoy family in general. He wasn't the first in our family to take a non-pureblood as a lover."

"So…she was muggle born?"

"She was a half-blood, actually. But in this family-"

"That's splitting hairs."

"Exactly."

"So, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Between the two of them."

"They remained lovers until his death."

"That's it? She spent her life being his hidden secret? She never got married, never had any children?"

"She was in love with him," he reminded her, keeping his voice very calm and flat. It was almost like he was explaining things to a child. "I've heard that love can make you do crazy things. Perhaps for her it was enough to be able to stay by the man that she loved for the rest of her life."

Hermione tilted her head to one side as she considered what he had just said. If she was in love with someone would she be content just to be by their side even if it meant being in the shadow? Or would she rather have a real relationship with someone she may love a little less? Is love truly enough to sustain you your whole life? "I don't know if I could live that way."

"What way?"

"To feel hidden by the man I love. If I wanted to be with him I'd have to really be with him. I couldn't just be hidden in the shadows, watching him be married to someone else and raising a family with them. If I was in love I'd want to be with them and be the only one with them. If they were to raise a family I'd want them to raise it with me."

"That's a romantic view of the world, Granger. But life isn't made for romance. In order to survive you need to be based in reality."

"Romance can exist in reality, Malfoy. It just doesn't come as easy as indifference."

"I suppose that's true." He shifted towards, placing a hand on her exposed knee. "How is being a romantic working out for you, Granger?"

Her gaze flickered down briefly to the paleness of the hand against her skin. "Why do you care so much?"

"Call me curious."

"I don't think being a romantic goes well or bad. Being a romantic is believing that one day you'll end up with the person that you're supposed to be with. It means that you believe life will hand you the best card it possibly can and that in the end everything will work out in your favor."

His hand squeezed her knee gently, an almost amused smirk spreading across his face. "Seems like such a childish way to see things."

"I find it to be a bit more like being optimistic than being childish to be honest."

"Don't you ever think that love can sometimes take the backburner to lust? Lust can be the most important thing sometimes. When you deny your lust sometimes it can be worse than not believing in love."

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid, Malfoy. I understand lust."

"Do you?" He moved then, sliding off of the seat. She was pretty positive he was playing a game with her but wasn't that the whole point of this get together of his? To play games? "How much do you understand it?"

"You'll have to figure that out all on your own, Malfoy. A girl can't go revealing too much about herself."

"I see. That sounded eerily like a challenge."

"Me? Challenge you?"

"Why not? I challenge you constantly." He stopped right in front of her, hand sliding slowly up her leg to rest on her inner thigh, squeezing gently. His face was close enough to hers that his breath was warm on her face. He smelled vaguely like spice and mint. "And I'm very much up for the challenge."

"You're always up for a challenge, aren't you?"

"Most of the time, yes." Then his mouth descended upon hers, warm and firm and insistent. Her immediate instinct was to pull back from him but if she was going to do well in this little game that he had set up she was going to have to learn to go beyond what she found comfortable. So instead of following her first instinct she kissed him back, allowing him to think she was falling into his little trap.

The hand on her thigh shifted, grasping her waist as the other hand came down to grasp the other side. Then he was sliding her back further on the bed, his body shifting to hover over hers. She was vaguely aware that the door was still open but she had no intention of letting him get _too_ far in this little challenge anyway so she wasn't exactly worried. And even if her friends saw she could always explain to them that this was part of the game and hope that they believed her.

The kiss deepened as his body pressed firmly against hers, pressing her down against the bed. His hands moved again, sliding down her legs, his nails scratching vaguely over her bare skin. Had this been anyone but Malfoy and had the situation been any different she was sure that she would find the whole situation rather erotic, but that wasn't the case. Right now it was like getting a shot- you had to just suck it up and get through it.

His teeth tugged on her bottom lip and despite herself a small sound of appreciation crawled up her throat. Okay, so she could admit that despite it being Malfoy she was enjoying the attention. But she wasn't about to let that change the fact that she just wanted to practice to win the game. So even as he tugged her lip into his mouth and sucked on it she made herself be quiet despite how good it felt.

Then his lips were traveling down across her cheek and down his neck, lips moving with confidence and yet being completely patient. For a moment she tilted her head slightly to the side, giving him better access to the sensitive skin of her throat. She started counting slowly, waiting for just the right time to make Malfoy stop. And then one of his hands slid back up her leg, slowly making its way up her inner thigh.

She curled her other leg as close to herself as she could, pushing him back from her slightly. She made sure he didn't see it as a rejection, made it seem like she was just trying to change her position a bit and then she thrust her knee against his chest. The air rushed out of him and hit her throat in a sudden burst as he rolled off of her and onto the bed, hand pressing against the wounded area. He coughed a couple of times, wincing against the pain that shot through his chest as he did so.

But Hermione was feeling rather good as she sat up, adjusting her robe so it covered her much better than it was and slid off of the bed, slowly making her way over to her bag. "You seemed so sure before that I couldn't play your little game, Malfoy." Looking at him over her shoulder she smiled. "I guess you were wrong, weren't you?"

Even as Malfoy's face moved from looking like he were in pain to looking annoyed, his eyes narrowing into what resembled a glare she knew she had gotten him this time.

Hermione just smiled wider.


	4. Rising To The Occasion

Malfoy hadn't stuck around long after her knee went slamming into his chest. With his ego sufficiently bruised he had had all but fled from the room as though there was a very, very angry dragon shooting fire at his ass as he moved. It was rather amusing to see and the whole time he was climbing off of the bed and making his way to the door he was sending a rather colorful array of curses back at her while she dug through her bag for something to wear. She knows that his intention was to upset her but all it served to do was to amuse her. Being able to get to him was a great accomplishment on her part, a victory she can't help but feel completely and totally pleased, a warmth swirling around inside of her over the fact that she had gotten to him while playing _his_ game. He had thought he would get the best of her, he had thought that he could perhaps even get a little action of some kind out of it but he had no such luck. Instead he got kneed in the chest and got the wind got knocked out of him and then he got laughed at. It was a very, very amusing situation on her end while she can understand that on his end it wasn't remotely funny. He had been rather pissed off. Oh, how amusing this whole thing could turn out to be if everyone were able to play games just like this. Yes, this could turn out to be a very amusing adventure indeed. And Hermione was more than looking forward to the chaos that could commence from all of this.

Once dressed she made her way downstairs to the dinning room, finding a seat next to Ginny, folding her skirt beneath her as she settles down. Across from them sat both Ron and Harry, whispering softly to each other as though they were sharing some great plot and perhaps they were, plotting how to go about this game though she finds it to be rather ridiculous. The whole idea of this game is to win against _everyone_. But, the more she thinks about it the more she thinks that perhaps working with someone in certain areas might be a good idea. Friends could come in handy during this for sure but at times it was still a game and the object was to win, you had to win above everyone and everything. Still, using her friendship with some of these people could definitely come in handy at certain times and she could definitely see herself utilizing those friendships when the time came.

Draco entered the room, looking rather kempt despite his little encounter with Hermione that morning. He had redone his hair so it would actually be slicked back as he normally wore it because by the time he had left it had become tousled and had been hanging rather awkwardly near his eyes. He could have always pretended that he had gotten lucky in some way but at the same time questions might arise if he were to do that and if the truth came out then he would definitely be thoroughly embarrassed. Imagine having to admit that his attempt at sexual conquest or using his sexuality to his advantage hadn't gone over well. The mockery would have been severe.

He took a seat at the head of the table to Hermione's left, glancing over at him with cool gray eyes. If he wanted to pretend _not_ to be annoyed with her he wasn't doing it very well though to the ones who didn't know what had happened might merely see it as a regarding look. She knew better though. she had gotten under his skin and that didn't sit well with him, the snakelike nature that all Slytherins held deep within them rising up to the surface, making him very much resemble a snake ready to strike and if you could shoot poison out of your eyes than he would _definitely_ be shooting poison at her right then. He was hoping for her to squirm or twitch or look uncomfortable in some way but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. Instead she merely regarded him with a very casual look on her face and then a slow smile spread across her face, quirking one of her dark eyebrows towards her hairline as if daring for him to say something about their little exchange, a challenge that he didn't rise to. He merely turned his gaze towards the rest of the group and she had to force herself not to let her smile turn into a self-satisfied one. It wasn't very often she got to get to Malfoy nor beat him at his own game, especially considering they were in _his_ house. No, this was definitely a treat.

He didn't say a single word to any of them and other then a few people whispering amongst themselves, probably trying to come up with some sort of a game plan. The sounds of clinking glasses and plates and the sound of knives and forks scratching against each other was really the only sounds that could be heard other than the occasional shifting in seats and the sound of clearing throats.

The food was good, Hermione had to admit that. She hadn't expected it not to be however. She didn't think that a Malfoy knew how to do anything small scale so there's no reason for this to be any different. As a matter-of-fact, there was probably _more_ of a need to impress given the fact that he was entertaining several guests right now and while he may not be overly fond of said guests he still had to put out a good spread and play the concerned host. She doesn't think he really gives a flying fuck about any of them though if she is completely and totally honest with herself. He hates most of them anyway, would prefer never to see any of them again when this is all done. He just wants to prove that he's smarter than them, more sneaky and manipulative and in a lot of ways that's true; he is more manipulative and more sneaky. But being a slithering Slytherin doesn't make you better than others, it just makes people expect this sort of thing from you more than from others.

Malfoy kept giving Ginny and her this strange looks, not like the angry and upset gaze he had been giving Hermione when he first came into the room but something more, something different that she can't quite pinpoint and Ginny is getting the same look. From time to time Hermione would glance at the younger girl out of the corner of her eye to see if she noticed the expression but Ginny seemed to be very wrapped up her meal. It was rather unnerving, the glances that Malfoy was giving them but she did her best not to shift in her seat and make him see how uncomfortable he was making her. That would only make him think he was winning at this game and she wasn't about to let that happen.

Once the meal was done everyone scattered like a batch of rats that just had a bullet shot into the center of them. Some opted to explore the grounds, some decided to retire back to their rooms. Hermione, however, would prefer to spend his days in a rather productive manner and would rather be in the library. No doubt the Malfoys would have books that she herself never even heard of let alone read and as such there would be a lot of interesting things that she could find within the pages. True, some of the books would undoubtedly be full of dark, twisted magic that she couldn't even begin to comprehend- nor would she want to- but there would also have to be some things that she could actually handle dwelling in her brain.

She makes her way slowly down the halls of the manor, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. Walking down the corridors it almost felt like she was in this passageway back through time, traveling into the past and she doesn't really understand it. Not the feeling itself but the past that she seems to be surrounded by and it's a past that she knows she could never understand. It's a past full of ridiculous rules and prejudice and horrible things done in the cover of shadow. And for a moment she thinks about that story Malfoy had told her the day before, about Willow Roth and how she had spend her entire life here in this house as the other woman to the man that she loved and how she had let herself be content with that. And for a moment she actually pictures Willow walking down the halls, just ahead of her, the dirty little indulgence that Malfoy's ancestor had allowed himself to indulge in. It's almost sickening to think about, that she would allow herself to be used as such.

Love was all well and good but you shouldn't allow the person you love to treat you like you're there merely for their amusement and that nothing more matters. Hadn't Willow done just that? Hadn't she let him use her and keep her hidden like she was something to be ashamed of? Hadn't he let tradition and keeping the family name unsullied come before her? How you can treat someone that you supposedly love as such is beyond her and she would never, ever let herself be some mistress, hidden in the dark corners and forced to pretend that she wasn't in love with the very person whom her heart was beating for. No, she'd sooner die alone than put herself through that kind of emotional torment. Love should mean going out of your way not to hurt the person you're with. What Willow and he had, in her mind, wasn't love. It was mutual sexual attraction and nothing more.

Her attention still on the imaginary specter of Willow Roth she didn't notice the prescience of someone behind her, didn't hear their footsteps or feel them there until their hand was on her shoulder and she found herself pushed back against the wall, the wind knocked out of her for a moment. And then she finds herself looking up into a pair of very familiar gray eyes, the same ones that had been glaring at her this morning and kept glancing her and Ginny odd looks all throughout breakfast, looks she couldn't read which was more intimidating than event he fact that he kept looking at her.

"You were getting far too much amusement from my discomfort," he told her, his voice rather even, as though he doesn't really care about what he's saying thought he way his body presses hers against the wall to keep her there seems to contradict that sentiment a great deal, seems to scream that he does in fact care very much that she took so much amusement from the situation. "Not very nice of you, Granger."

"I wasn't aware that the point of your little game was to be _nice_, Malfoy." She kept her voice as calm and as clear as his was, keeping her gaze locked with his. If he was looking for a battle of wills he was going to be on a run for his money. Of all the things in the world Hermione Granger was willing to do allowing Draco Malfoy to make her look away as though she were frightened or ashamed definitely wasn't on that list. "If that were the case then you should have stated that more clearly from the beginning, though it does seem a little bit contradictory to the concept of a game of deceit, doesn't it?"

"You think you're very clever, don't you?" he questions, blatantly ignoring her sardonic answer as though she hadn't even spoken at all. One of his hands travels up to press against the side of her neck, fingers lingering over the pulse point, feeling the steady drumming of blood rushing through her veins. "You think you're by far the smartest girl here, don't you?"

"I wouldn't go that far," she counters, shaking her head ever so slightly, angling her body in a way that put the back of her head against the wall and pressed her body closer to his. If he could play games by pressing them closer together then she could play them, too. "I do think I happen to be a reasonably intelligent person and can figure out ways to get to people. Seems I have already found a way to get to you, haven't I?"

"You got lucky," came his immediate and yet at the same time very casual argument, one of his eyebrows arching towards his snowy hairline, angling his head slightly to the one side, the light in the hall casting interesting shadows off of his angular face. "I wouldn't consider that to be as big of a victory as you do."

"Of course you wouldn't. Why would you want to admit that I got the best of you? Wouldn't that just prove that you're not the master manipulator you want everyone to believe that you are?"

"I'm much better than you give me credit for. I happen to be a very talented person." There was something in his voice that screamed to her that there was a double meaning intended in his words, like he was picking on her in a way she just hadn't really come to understand yet. Or maybe he was, in a way, propositioning her. It wouldn't surprise her. He's conceited enough that she can imagine he would find it difficult to believe any woman could turn him down and that may well be true. Hell, she can admit to herself that if he hadn't been a complete and utter prat towards her in school she'd have been much more inclined to respond at least some to his advances that morning.

"You know, you talk a lot but something tells me if the occasion arose I'd find that's just all it is: talk. It's very easy to run your mouth off but it's hard to live up to it." His fingers still brushing against the pulse point in her neck she lifts up her hand, not willing to let him have the upper hand, and brushed the pad of her thumb across his bottom lip. "Very hard to live up to."

"If you're trying to emasculate me in hopes of distracting me it isn't going to happen," he informs her, the edge of his mouth curling up in a way that resembles the smirk he so often wore back at school and it sends a rush of familiarity through her that just makes this all the easier to do, so much easier to handle. "I have far too much confidence for that."

"You call it confidence, I call it conceit."

"Call it what you will," he said carelessly, shrugging off her comment with words where he cannot with actions. It's like he _wants_ to upset her, wants it more than anything in the world and maybe that's an accurate assessment. He always _did_ enjoy trying to get to her. It seemed to be his favorite of all pastimes. "I will admit this," he says after a moment, his face moving closer to hers, his breath warm on her face. "You are going to be a very fun opponent in this little game. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy knocking you down a peg."

"If either of us needs to be knocked down a peg, Malfoy, it would be you. You seem to think you can do something to embarrass me, to complicate my life. It won't work."

"No?" His eyebrow shifted towards his hairline again his eyes shinning with this look like she had renewed his desire to play his game, like she had just issued him a very interesting challenge. And in his mind she had because she had basically made everything open territory by saying that, at least in his mind. He could do whatever he deemed fit to beat her at this game he had initiated and by the end of it he was positive, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could make her regret agreeing to play to begin with.

"We'll just have to see about that," he whispered before his mouth descended and claimed hers, the kiss all pressure and animalistic, no true affection hidden in it, his tongue seeking entrance into her mouth and it found purchase when she opened her mouth to him, her tongue moving out to meet his, both physically meeting his body as she mentally met his challenge, giving him this little victory and not letting herself deny the thrill this all sends through her, to be pressed so close against his body, his tongue in her mouth, their friends wandering around. Its dirty and scandalous and oh so wrong but at the same time it sends this delicious thrill through her and she realizes the forbidden fruit can often be just as sweet if not more so than any other kind.

She's almost finding herself lost in the contact of their mouths and the press of his hips against hers that when someone down the hall clears their throat it startles her so much she nearly bites him. Draco, however, wasn't even remotely startled as he leaned back from her, his mouth slowly shifting into a smirk again, his eyes shinning the entire time. "Looks like you're going to have some explaining to do," he drawls, eyes shifting in an almost motioning gesture in the direction that the sound had come from.

Slowly, almost as if someone had brought time itself to a slower pace, she turned her head to look down the hall and found Ron standing there, his arms folded across his chest, a look of both confusion and anger across his face, skin almost red enough to rival the hair on his head.

_Checkmate, Malfoy,_ she thinks bitterly. _But the game isn't over yet. Far from it._


End file.
