Prices

He´s always so gentle with me--feathery caresses along my thighs, broad, slow licks against my navel, heated hands cupping my breasts, soft lips nipping at my mouth. I had never thought of him as gentle before.

Then again, I never thought that I´d be doing this, either.

When Ron and I first got married, it was-magic, for the lack of a better word. He enriched my life with his laughter, and I kept him grounded so he wouldn´t fly off somewhere with his dreams and leave the rest of us behind. The last five years have been wonderful. It hasn´t been a fairy tale, but there was love, and that is all that matters.

And then, a few months ago, it changed. He started coming home later from his office at the Ministry. His cologne had a hint of something else; a musk, a heady, primitive aroma that was no less potent for all its faintness. He started shying away from me, dismissing my touch when I embraced him, refusing to meet my eyes.

And until I found the room, I thought it was my fault.

It was well hidden, magically concealed, and if I hadn´t come home from work at St. Mungo´s earlier than expected, I´m sure that the door would have been closed, and I would have remained unaware of what the room contained. The bed was rumpled, blankets tossed about, the sheets sticky and stinking of sex. Ron´s clothing crumpled at the foot of the bed was the most damning evidence of all.

I turned around as my throat swelled, and walked out. Perhaps that was cowardly. Perhaps he and his lover would have still been there, and I should have raged and demanded that he confess to me. Perhaps I should have ignored the pain, and discussed everything with him. Instead, I opted for revenge.

My legs wrap around his waist, my fingers tangling in his hair, and he sucks at my throat as we thrust to meet each other, the pain of Ron´s betrayal and the illicit thrill of my lover combining to send me over the edge, pleasure pulsing with every beat of my heart into the furthest outreaches of my body.

"Draco..." the name slips out of my lips before I can stop it, and the silvery head flinches upward, his equally pale eyes locking onto mine as he pauses. Somehow, I know we are both thinking of that first day.

"The Weasel is cheating on you?" Draco had asked in amusement.

"Yes. And I want revenge."

"Why do you think I´d care what you want?"

I felt small underneath the mirror of his gaze. In a single instant, I was dissected, analyzed, and put back together. And, perhaps, found wanting. "It gives you the opportunity to hurt Ron," I said simply.

"There is always a price for the help of a Malfoy." He told me softly.

"Whatever it is, I´m willing to pay it."

He pondered my words; lips pursed as he absently twisted a strand of his hair between his fingers. The silence stretched between us, but I couldn´t move. I wouldn´t move until I had gotten an answer.

"All right." He nodded once, standing up and offering his hand. "Show me."

I led him to the room, and he stopped just inside the doorway, looking around as if he was memorizing everything. "So it was here." Draco´s voice was low, contemplative. "I always wondered..." He turned abruptly to the door, leaving it open slightly before pulling his sweater over his head. "Shall we begin, then?" He pulled me closer to him, his hands searching out my skin. "Oh. And if you ever call my name," he declared coolly as his breath brushed over my lips. "It´s over."

And I have just broken the one rule we have between us. Shit.

Draco opens his mouth, but whatever he was about to say is forgotten as the front door slams, and laughter filters through the hall. Ron stumbles into the room, his lips latched onto the pulse of a peachy neck. Fingers run through Ron´s bright hair, and there´s a rasp of husky laughter that freezes, eyes flaring wide in horror.

I should have fucking guessed.

"Draco? Hermione?" he chokes, frozen.

Ron spins around, surprise narrowing into fury. "What the fuck are you doing with my wife, Malfoy?"

Draco´s face warms slightly in amusement, and my admiration for him shoots up. "What does it look like?"

I look between Draco´s face and the two men standing in the doorway. Oh, god, this is funny. "You knew all along who it was, didn´t you, Draco?"

"But of course, Granger. Didn´t you?" he pulls away from me, and I sit up, shaking with silent mirth.

"How did you trick `Mione into doing this?" Ron snarls, and the absurdity of this situation strikes even deeper. How dare he.

Draco opens his mouth when a sharp, bitter laugh fills the air. It´s only when all three of them stare at me that I realize I´m the one that´s laughing. "Are you that blind, Ron?" I spit angrily.

"It was all her idea. I´m an innocent victim." Draco stretches languidly beside me. "Of course, you do understand that we´ve had to fuck for a month and a half before you two finally decided to grace us with your presence?"

"Fuck you, Malfoy."

I should have fucking guessed.

"You already do, Potter. Or have you forgotten so easily?"

Draco and I look at each other and leave the bed at the same moment, calmly reaching for our clothing. Revenge is sweet...but now I just want to get away and throw up. Now I just want to be alone. "Do you understand now how it is to be betrayed, Ron?" I ask him quietly. I tug everything into place and reach into my pocket, tossing the divorce papers at his feet.

His mouth is gaping-I think he honestly believed that I wouldn´t do anything like this. That I wouldn´t hurt him. That maybe I couldn´t hurt him. "Good bye, Ronald Weasley. I hope I never see you again."

Draco nods at me, and leaves the room. I attempt to follow him, but Harry stops me with a gentle touch on my arm.

I should have fucking guessed.

"I--well, you see--" He stammers before looking away from me. "We never meant to hurt you, `Mione."

"Yes, you did, Harry. You knew exactly what you were doing." I touch his cheek softly, my heart aching. "I really do think that Draco must have loved you as I loved Ron. I hope you hurt." I pull away from my former friend and walk out into the hall, leaving the stunned past behind me. Now I´m just empty inside.

Draco is waiting for me outside the door. He takes my hand and places a gallant kiss on the back of it. "It has been a pleasure working with you, Granger."

"Likewise." He lets me go and walks away, the sound of his footsteps confident against the carpet. He begins to whistle a cheerful tune as he goes out the door.

What do I do now? I know that at any moment Ron and Harry are going to come out of their astonishment, and then they are going to want to see me, or Draco, or both of us. I pick up my suitcase and pause to look around the room that I have shared with Ron for five years, and realize that I feel nothing anymore.

I hope he hurts.

I hope they both get ripped apart inside by guilt for doing this to me.

When I think about how much pain I want them to feel, a part of me is appalled, horrified by that desire to lash out, to destroy their lives with the same single-minded intensity that I once had for my studies. But the rest of me agrees. It feels good to wound him. Maybe the scars that I gave him will quench his thirst for Harry´s scars--the thirst for recognition that he´s had since forever.

Draco's tune plays on my lips, and I begin to whistle cheerfully as I walk out the door.

There is always a price for the help of a Malfoy.

And, as I told him, I was willing to pay it.

I just wish it hadn´t been my heart.

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