Prerogative of Power

PREROGATIVE OF POWER

Chapter Three: Parley

I'll play your games with your sex, with electric shocks
Learn to let myself loose and be the dummy in your snapshots
I'll play your games learn to get on with your backward fans
Stick my body in the sun and help to get rid of the white tan

--Sneaker Pimps; Sick

"I won't marry him!" Hermione cried as she paced in front of Harry, Aunt Petunia and Moody. She had been quiet when they went upstairs--too quiet, in Harry's opinion. But the moment they had arrived to her bedchamber, Hermione exploded in anger and outrage.

Petunia gave her a disgruntled look. "We don't have any choice, dear."

"We? I'm the one he intends to marry!" Hermione wrung her hands. "I'll run away. I'll go someplace where he can't find me."

"Yes," Harry immediately agreed, "you should run. Quickly. I shall cast Invisibility and Confounding spells on you and then you can go to Sirius' land, or to the Weasleys."

Moody gave a snort. "I doubt she'll get that far. Remember who we're up against. Malfoy and Snape are no doubt powerful wizards; they can easily break through your enchantments, my lord."

"Mad-Eye!" cried both Harry and Hermione.

Petunia sighed. "Moody is right. There's nothing we can do. It's terrible that he's proposing, but we must thank God it's not worse. He could've taken her by force... Imagine the scandal."

Harry scowled at his aunt.

"Hermione, you must resign yourself," Aunt Petunia lectured, ignoring her nephew. "Most marriages are arranged, after all. In a way, it's a blessing that he wants to marry into the family."

Harry and Hermione stared at their aunt in disbelief.

"Don't you see?" Petunia continued irritably. "The man's a soldier--a Death Eater. By God's grace, he'll get himself killed soon, and then the lands will revert back to Hermione. To us."

Hermione fell into her bed, covered her face, and sobbed. Harry shot a look of outrage to his aunt's way, which she answered with a huff. "Leave us, Aunt Petunia. You've hurt Hermione enough. Mad-Eye, will you tell a servant to bring us a basin of water?"

As soon as Moody and Petunia left, Hermione threw down her hands. "I won't do it, Harry," she declared.

"Merlin, Hermione, as much as I don't like the old hag, Aunt Petunia is right. If you don't do as he says, he'll just take you by force."

"No, he won't. If I'm forced to marry him, I'll kill myself." Hermione's rich brown eyes were turbulent. "Do you think I'd let someone touch me after Ron?"

Harry stared. "Ron?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Ron and I love each other."

"But--but neither of you told me..." Even at such a time, Harry felt hurt that his best friends had not confided in him.

"Ron was going to speak to Uncle James, but then, Dumbledore called for men to fight alongside him, so we thought it best to wait before telling anyone. Ron hoped he could make a name for himself in the war."

Hermione and Ron... Harry guessed he should've expected it. Despite Ron and Hermione's constant bickering, it was quite obvious that they were besotted with each other. Since the Weasleys' land, The Burrow, bordered Gryffindor, they'd all known one another since childhood. Under normal circumstances, a match such as theirs would've been approved. But Ron was the sixth son, and he would inherit neither land nor wealth from his father. To him, the war must have seemed like an opportunity to prove his worth.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you, Harry." She blushed. "We fell in love a few months ago. Suddenly, we knew we couldn't be happy without each other."

Did Ron love Hermione enough to kill Malfoy? Harry rejected the thought. Ron would try to kill Malfoy, of course. But Ron wasn't a wizard; he wouldn't stand a chance against Malfoy.

"Harry, what am I going to do?"

Harry looked at his cousin helplessly.

"I don't know, Hermione. I don't know."

~~~~~~~

Since there was no help for it but to go down to dinner, Hermione wanted to wear her simple mourning clothes, but Aunt Petunia insisted that she should dress properly. She made Hermione wear a black silk taffeta gown with full skirts, with her brown hair swept up and held in place with bejeweled combs. Harry thought his cousin looked very pretty.

Even Harry relented to his aunt's endless nagging; he wore a forest green cloak with a silver clasp over his usual ensemble of white shirt, black breeches and black leather boots. He tucked his wand on his back.

When they entered the formal dining room, Malfoy and his men were already present. Malfoy kissed the hands of Hermione and his aunt, but contrary to the last time, his cousin blanched. Harry merely gave a stiff nod which the Death Eater returned, equally as stiff.

"Ladies, Lord Potter, let me present the rest of my comrades. My mentor, Lord Snape, as I've introduced to you earlier, and my lieutenant, Lord Blaise Zabini of the Zabini family from the north of Slytherin," Malfoy said, gesturing towards the tall, dark skinned young man on his left. Harry had heard of the Zabini family and their refusal to side with anyone. But seeing that their heir was a Death Eater, Harry supposed their neutrality will soon change in favor of Voldemort.

Hermione remained silent on her seat, and Aunt Petunia looked pained, but Harry listened as the introductions continued. His father had once told him that to know the leader, one must also know his men.

There was Theodore Nott; the thin, wiry fellow with shrewd eyes, and then there was Evan Rosier, a dark-haired man with a scar on his left temple. Seated opposite him were Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe; two huge, burly mercenaries. There was also the brawny Malcolm Baddock and the giant-like Marcus Flint, and the fierce-looking Montague brothers, Reid and Stephen.

Harry was quite astounded to learn that almost all of them were heirs to great lands. How Malfoy managed to earn their loyalty and respect was beyond Harry, but he could see that Malfoy's men nearly worshiped their pale-haired leader.

Harry, Hermione and their aunt stayed quiet as they ate, keeping their faces as blank as they could while two of Malfoy's men, Crabbe and Goyle, devoured and gulped their way through dinner. Moody's face was a grimace of disgust as he oversaw the serving of the meal and whiskey.

"Vince, Greg, I suggest you stop eating like pigs in front of the ladies," Malfoy said.

Crabbe and Goyle looked like they were about to protest, but they sighed instead and proceeded to eat more slowly.

Suddenly, Marcus Flint pounded his fist on the table. "It's time, isn't it, to drink a toast?" He swayed a little when he stood, and raised his goblet toward Hermione. "A toast to Draco's future wife, the Lady Hermione--may she live long and happily, and present Draco with strong sons."

Hermione paled even more.

His comrades cried in agreement, and Harry saw Malfoy grin and lift his goblet with the others. Flint added, "Now let's drink to the prosperity of Gryffindor, Hangleton and their new Lord."

That was the last straw for Harry. He was aware of the others watching him as he pushed back his chair from the table and stood up--Petunia with horror, Hermione with apprehension, Snape with a calculating look, and Malfoy with a thin, derisive smile on his lips. There was a buzzing in Harry's ears, and all the faces on the table blurred as he turned his back on them and strode toward the door.

Harry shook his head as the moment of dizziness passed. He felt his magic still swirling violently inside him, and when he heard a roar of laughter from the dining room, a vase on the counter across him suddenly exploded into tiny pieces. "Damn," he murmured. He hastily went to the main entrance and opened the door leading to the courtyard.

It was cold outdoors, with a bitter wind that cut to the bone. Stars littered the velvety sky. Harry walked further to distance himself from the house and the Death Eaters who took over it. But as he moved, he heard a swift footfall behind him and, turning, caught the glint of pale blond hair.

Malfoy had followed Harry. The Death Eater walked toward him, his face shuttered and seemingly calm, but Harry could feel the erratic magic surrounding the other wizard. With his heart beating madly, Harry started to reach for his wand.

"Isn't it too cold a night for a walk?" Malfoy said, his voice sounding pleasant enough.

Harry stilled, frowning. What was Malfoy at? He gazed at the man in front of him, at the grey eyes like artic ice. There was nothing to see. Very well, Harry thought, I'll play your game. "The air inside was too close," he answered, disregarding his wand.

Malfoy nodded. "I know this is difficult for you, Potter. Remember that as soon as we ride away to Hangleton, life will be as much as you knew it."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "How can that be? My mother and father are dead, and you will take Hermione with you." Malfoy didn't comment, and Harry quickly added, "My cousin doesn't want to marry you."

Harry held his breath, but Malfoy didn't seem angered. "That shouldn't make a difference. Don't nobles and ladies marry mostly to increase their property or to seal alliances?"

"Perhaps." Curbing his impatience, Harry chose his words carefully. "There is a reason why you shouldn't marry Hermione. She loves someone else," a pause, "a grieving wife would be no use to you."

In the faint moonlight, Harry saw Malfoy frown. "It can't be helped. I need to marry into your family."

"Are you in love with her?"

Malfoy snorted. "Are you mad? How could I be, when I never saw her before today? But the fact is that the people of Gryffindor won't accept me unless I wed into the ruling family."

Harry wanted to retort that he wouldn't be accepted anyway, but he bit back that truth. He had to placate Malfoy, to try to convince him to leave Hermione alone.

"I need my people to work willingly for me," Malfoy went on, and Harry was surprised at how serious Malfoy sounded. "I won't tolerate disobedience, Potter. Your cousin is young. Once she's away from her so-called love, she'll forget him."

Harry couldn't help the harsh laugh that escaped him. "Hermione is one of the most stubborn people I know, Malfoy. What you're doing will ruin her life."

"That's the way it has to be."

Harry heard the finality in his voice. There was no use to protest; he knew Malfoy would never change his mind. Hermione's pale, tear-stained face rose into Harry's mind along with Ron's grinning freckled face. Hermione might kill herself, or she might run... Ron might challenge Malfoy... either way, both his best friends would die.

Bloody, buggering hell. Harry had played with the idea when he could think of nothing to help Hermione, though he hadn't thought he'd need to go through with it. Still, Harry knew that his best friends had to be saved, no matter what the cost.

"Wait," Harry forced himself to say. "You--you don't love Hermione, so it doesn't matter whom you marry, as long as you marry into the family."

No matter what the cost.

Malfoy was staring at him, and Harry stared back. "Marry me, then."

Harry braced himself--he was sure Malfoy would laugh at him, but Malfoy didn't react at all; he just continued to stare at Harry. "You want to marry me," he stated dryly, raising his brow.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, I don't want to. But you said you had to marry into the family." He gave a sardonic laugh. "Unless you want to marry Aunt Petunia..."

"Don't be absurd, Potter. I won't marry that vile scarecrow of a hag."

"Then marry me. It's entirely acceptable, if a bit rare."

Malfoy sneered. "Do you think I'm stupid, Potter? I know you'll try to kill me on our first night together--gut me in my sleep or choke me to death with your magic like you did in the forest. Besides, we can't have children."

This time, it was Harry who snorted. "I've thought of that, of course." He took a deep breath. "There is a way. Magical joining, Malfoy. We're both wizards; one of us can bear a child through a magical joining."

"That's Sex Magic, Potter. Dangerous stuff."

"Why? Are you scared?" Harry challenged.

"No, I'm only telling you the truth," Malfoy scoffed.

"Malfoy, Hermione is only my cousin. My people will more likely accept you if you marry their former master. As for me trying to kill you, on my honor as a Gryffindor--"

"Ah, yes, the Gryffindor honor," Malfoy mocked. "Your honorable aunt has agreed to let someone like me marry your cousin so that she can sit on her skinny backside and enjoy her comfort." Harry stubbornly held his place as Malfoy closed the distance between them, stopping near enough that Harry could feel the warmth of his body without touching him. "And here you are willing to take your cousin's place," he purred. "How noble."

Malfoy lifted his index finger and touched Harry's cheek, slowly caressing downwards. Harry caught his breath, resentment and something quite its opposite mingling and pooling inside him.

"Marry me," Harry insisted.

"You're awfully keen on this, Potter." His breath ghosted over Harry's cheek. "Do you really want me that much?"

"Malfoy, you know I'd rather marry a pig than you," Harry hoarsely whispered just as Malfoy's fingertip slowly ran over his bottom lip.

Grey eyes narrowed, flashed and darkened. When Malfoy spoke, his voice was deceptively mild. "Aren't you going too fast?" The lazy caress suddenly turned to a vise-like grip on Harry's arm, and then Malfoy pulled Harry against him. "I haven't said I'd have you."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but his words were soon lost as Malfoy crushed his lips against Harry's. He raised his arms and tried to push the Death Eater away, but Malfoy's other hand rose to grasp the back of his head hard, so that there could be no escape. He froze, not wanting to respond to the demanding coax of Malfoy's tongue circling his lips. Even if it felt so damned pleasant.

"Open your mouth, Harry," Malfoy whispered, placing small kisses and teasing licks on his closed mouth. Harry felt his eyes drift shut. "I want to come in." The index finger was tracing his bottom lip again.

Harry swallowed, caught up in a haze of conflicting desires. His mind was reeling--Malfoy was the enemy, the one who took over Gryffindor, and yet...

And yet Malfoy's finger was pressing on his lower lip and Malfoy's body was rocking against his own--God--and it was all he could do not to moan.

"Open."

With a strangled noise, Harry opened his lips, bit the invading finger hard, and then sucked it in. He heard Malfoy gasp, then he devoured Harry's mouth, his tongue sliding inside to replace his finger, and it was soft and hard, hot and wet. It felt so good. Their tongues met in a wild, frenzied movement of giving and taking, and it was nothing like Harry had ever felt before, this intense, mindless sensation. Malfoy slid a hand through Harry's hair, wrenching the other's head back to thrust his tongue deeper, making Harry moan and clutch Malfoy's neck as he too leaned forward to have more.

OH fuck...

Harry couldn't think straight--he had lost control of his thoughts long before they had started to kiss. Harry inhaled sharply when Malfoy left his mouth to trail slow, wet kisses up to his temple, and then downwards to his chin and throat, biting and licking as he went. He tilted his head back to give Malfoy better access, giving a soundless cry when Malfoy sucked on the sensitive flesh connecting his neck and shoulder. And when Malfoy repossessed his lips, Harry's mouth promptly opened for him, and it started all over again.

No longer could Harry tell where he ended and Malfoy began, or whose breath he drew into his lungs. Nor could he remember who Malfoy was and what he had done. None of that mattered. But reality eventually intruded, and when a sudden burst of laughter sounded from the castle, Harry jolted to his senses and wrenched free from Malfoy's arms. The kiss left him breathless, and he could feel the heat on his cheeks. He lifted an arm to rub his lips on his sleeves, as if by doing that, he could erase what happened.

Another burst of laughter could be heard amidst both their harsh breathing.

Malfoy was just staring at him with eyes still narrowed, and Harry glared unflinchingly back at him. "Well, Malfoy, did I pass your little test? Will you accept my proposal?" Harry was pleased to hear his voice sound so unperturbed when he was far from being calm.

Malfoy studied Harry for the longest of time. Harry wanted to squirm from the intensity of Death Eater's gaze, but he didn't give into the urge. He'd be damned if Malfoy saw any weakness from him.

"Well?"

A smile slowly appeared on Malfoy's lips, dazzling, dangerous.

"I will."

To be continued...