An Ideal Death-Eater

Author's Notes: Thank you to the lovely Tegan for fanart in this chapter.

Mrs Weasley made more mince pies and there was still a Christmas pudding boiling merrily away in a pot on the kitchen hearth, waiting for the next day's tea. The roast chicken on the table was tender, and there were pots of mash and other vegetables spread out over the table along with fresh baked bread and honey butter. Gravy boats winked happily from the reflected light and urged those seated to be liberal with their contents.

But Draco couldn't eat a bite.

Glancing from the corner of his eye, he noticed that the stupidest Weasley, Ron, appeared to be having the same problem. Draco smirked to himself in satisfaction.

The twins were chattering away with Ginny, making her giggle across from him. Draco appreciated this only because it made her ample breasts shake and bob with each titter. How someone could look at something so nice as a well-rounded tit and not be aroused was beyond him. Draco comforted himself with the knowledge that he knew where he stood on that subject.

Harry and Hermione remained quiet, the latter picking at her food but still eating. The fact that the famous trio were on the outs perked Draco up a little and he took a bite from the bread on his plate. This made Mrs Weasley smile at him from over her fork and he wanted to bung the whole plate just to make her stop. It wasn't as if she really cared.

Especially when she found out about his father.

That wouldn't be until much later; after everyone else went to bed and Potter did his duty as saviour of the free world by bringing that horrible note to the Weasleys' attention. Draco reassured himself with the knowledge that Hermione would most likely be chewing Saint Potter out later for picking up another bad habit. Smoking. This time, Draco smiled mischievously at his plate and started eating in earnest.

"Put something in our food, Malfoy?" George asked, his face still splattered with a slightly dimmed version of the purple ink stain from earlier.

Draco shook his head. "Not tonight; I think I've filled my quota for the day."

Ginny snorted. "I'll say. I don't think even Fred and George could manage the mischief you've caused in just twenty-four hours."

She apparently hadn't bothered to mention to her brothers exactly how she'd caught a cold earlier that day. But since the potion had finally taken effect, there was no reason for her to mention it. Draco certainly wasn't about to either; he liked his rocks in his pants the way nature intended and not strung from the ceiling like a twisted Christmas banner.

Fred perked up at Ginny‘s statement. "A challenge, dear sister?"

Cringing, she shook her head. "No, no challenge at all. Forget what I said, in fact. You and George are brilliant as is."

George didn't accept this as an answer though. "Ah, but the challenge has been issued so you can't take it back."

"Fred, George, there will be no tomfoolery at this table tonight. Let's have a nice meal free of your pranks for once, boys." Mr Weasley said this to the twins, but he cast a glance at Draco as well.

For his part, Draco had the feeling that the twins were now even more determined to pull a joke on someone. It was only right that he take preventative measures.

Draco glanced at Mr Weasley, but saw that the man was busy talking with his wife and not paying anyone else the slightest mind. Forcing his lips to be still, Draco picked up a pea with the edge of his fork and lobbed it directly at Fred's head.

Unfortunately, Charlie bumped his elbow at a crucial moment and the pea went soaring over the table to land snugly between Ginny's breasts. Draco's eyes widened and he quickly looked back down at his plate, tearing into the chicken there with his several times accursed fork. The meat was a breast piece, too.

Sneaking a glimpse from under his hair, he noticed that she seemed to find it anything but amusing. The twins hadn't noticed, though, as they were too occupied with plotting his demise.

Ginny picked the pea out of her bra carefully, looking up to see who had thrown it. Draco became even more interested in his food then, trying to ignore her. He did a good job, too, because when a glob of mashed potatoes hit him in the face, he was very surprised.

Draco raised his head, mouth open in shock. The twins immediately stopped scheming and laughed out loud; slapping the table and making it shake. Ginny was taking a bite from her bread, her eyes innocently rounded. Harry had looked up from his whisperings to Hermione, and even Ron noticed that something was going on.

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley admonished loudly, getting up from the table to hand Draco a towel. "Why on earth did you do that?"

"He threw a pea at me," she defended, letting her lip pout out slightly.

Draco's nostrils flared as he tried to contain his embarrassment, but the action was hidden by the towel he was using to wipe his face. Ron was now snickering along with everyone else and he could feel his blood begin to simmer with rage. He stood up stiffly and grabbed a gravy boat, leaning over the table to pour it down the front of Ginny's dress.

She gasped loudly and jumped from her seat, batting at her clothes frantically while the twins shrieked with laughter and Mrs Weasley yelled.

"Draco!"

Ginny pushed her chair back and came around the table like a hell-bound harpy. Before Draco knew what she had done, there was a cracking sound and the stinging imprint of her hand on his cheek.

"That was my favourite dress, you manky git!" she cried.

He put a hand to his face, feigning shock and smirking all the while. "Keep your food to yourself next time."

She stared at him incredulously. "You started it!"

Mr Weasley finally rose from the table himself to address the two in a stern voice. "Children, go wash up. I expect that you'll both behave when you come back."

Draco's face burned at being called a child and he aimed a narrow glance at Ron, who was laughing louder than anyone else, before sweeping out of the room in a huff. Ginny followed behind him, head hanging sullenly on her neck like a broken flower stem.

"I'm going to get you for this, Draco Malfoy," Ginny hissed in his ear as they were climbing the stairs.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and shrugged. "Blame yourself for sinking to my level in the first place."

Ginny tapered her eyes but didn't say anything more as she stomped into the loo and slammed the door. Draco heard water in the sink running and sighed, folding his arms and leaning against the wall in anticipation of a long wait. Couldn't he have just washed his face in the kitchen? Draco shook his head and shivered at the thought of cleaning himself up like a common dinner plate.

A few moments later, Ginny opened the door and Draco moved closer to it, almost blocking the frame. The front of her dress was drenched in water and clung to her body like a second skin. Draco could see how cold she was by the way her nipples had budded and pressed through the thick cotton material.

"What are you staring at?" Ginny snapped peevishly as she made to go around him.

Draco stood his ground and smirked, allowing his gaze to linger over her curves and also allowing a plan to blossom in his devious mind. "I was just thinking to myself how lucky that pea was."

"You're a nutter," she said, wrinkling her nose in exasperation. "Now move out of the way so I can change."

His smirk turned into a full-fledged grin as he moved further into the washroom, forcing Ginny to back up as he closed the door behind them. Draco directed a glance at her rounded hips, and the way her small, soft belly was accentuated by the dripping fabric of her dress. She reached up a hand to nervously finger the red curls falling over her shoulder, the ends slightly damp.

Ginny was pretty enough, and her body whispered secrets of desire that he needed to hear. The ample padding to her backside told him that she'd keep him warm, at least, as he pounded it into the cold, tiled floor. Ginny would be screaming his name soon and that would prove he wasn't a poof like his father.

The gauntlet was thrown.

"D-draco?" she asked, eyes wide as she backed up so far that she hit the wall. "What are you doing?"

Draco didn't say a word but continued to advance on her until he could feel the wet material of her dress against his solar plexus. Ginny's lip trembled slightly in anticipation, wondering what he was going to do next.

"Are you going to— "

He cut her off by swooping down and arresting her mouth with his own. Ginny's arms fluttered uselessly for a moment before reaching up to twine themselves around his neck. That surprised him almost as much as when she poked her tiny pink tongue past his lips. Ah, so willing . . . it was a shame he hadn't done this before.

His hands skimmed over her hips, and Draco reached down under her thighs to pick her up. Ginny's legs wrapped around his waist easily as he pushed her further against the wall.

She moaned into his mouth and continued the attack, her small fingers tugging at his hair. Draco suckled her tongue while reaching up to grab one of her pert breasts in his long-fingered hand, twirling a nipple expertly through the wet material of her dress.

Ginny broke away from the kiss and tilted her head, groaning softly in the back of her throat. Draco moved to replace his hand with his mouth, nibbling at her pearled nipple through the cloth. Ginny's fingers tightened over his scalp and her hips quivered against his stomach.

Draco slid a hand down her belly to the top of her thighs, rooting through fabric before he found her knickers. He pulled his mouth from her breast and grated the stubble on his chin against her lips.

"Say my name," he demanded harshly into her ear.

Ginny swallowed, her mouth slack and glazed over with lust. Draco could feel the internal debate she was having and it excited him. One finger edged the lace around her leg before slithering inside, stroking the wet curls there.

"Say my name," Draco challenged again.

Her lips quivered in response. "Draco," she breathed. "Let go of me."

Where did that come from? The sheer nerve of her! Draco gave spiteful pinch to the soft skin of her thigh before pushing away from the wall. Ginny fell to the cold, tiled floor from where she had been perched on his hips. She winced at the impact and rubbed her bottom, glaring up at him.

"You're a tease, Weasley," Draco said slowly. His teeth were clenched so that the words came out gritty and almost breathless.

Ginny blinked slowly, eyes unfocused but filled with anger as she jumped to her feet. Her face was tipped up toward his, only inches away. "I'm a tease? You're the one who has flirted with me ever since you came here! And even at school before that. You're just a pathetic little boy, Draco Malfoy. A stupid, rich prat who thinks that he can— "

"Shut up, you daft twat. You honestly think that I've been flirting with you? I wouldn't give you the time of day if I wasn't stuck in this house."

She smirked slightly. "Poor little Drakkie, can't find Crabbe and Goyle to help you out this time?"

Draco's eyes widened with anger and . . . fear. "Don't ever— "

"This is my house, Malfoy, not yours. I'll say what I please."

"Bitch," he hissed.

Ginny shrugged. "If it makes you feel better, Malfoy. But I'm going back to the kitchen. Why don't you," she spared a withering glance at the bulging seam of his trousers, "Clean yourself up."

Then she walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Draco stood still a moment before he was able to regain his bearings on reality. His throat and nose burned and there was a peculiar clutching feeling in his chest. One thought sustained him as he washed his face at the sink. It kept him going while he peeled away his wet shirt and climbed into the bathtub, filling it with icy water. That one thought kept pounding in his head.

She would pay for this.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry was picking at his food, uneasy about the task that lay before him. How did you tell someone that their son was diddling a Death Eater?

Hermione sat next to him, morosely eating the delicious mince pie on her plate. It seemed that both of his friends were feeling just as blue as he was because Ron hardly touched his food either. At least everyone else seemed to be having a good time.

Mr and Mrs Weasley ate their pie, speaking to each other quietly except for the occasional giggle from Mrs Weasley. Charlie was helping himself to another one, and the twins were still laughing over the scene between Ginny and Malfoy earlier.

Harry glanced down at his watch and frowned. Earlier was almost twenty minutes ago. What was going on up there?

"Hermione," he whispered, touching her hand with his fingers to get her attention. "Why don't you go and see if Ginny needs any help? They've been up there an awful long time."

Hermione snorted softly before whispering back. "What, are you afraid that she might be snogging Malfoy?"

Harry grinned lopsidedly at her. "Already happened once, or so I'm told."

"What!" she exclaimed, louder than intended.

Everyone at the table looked up at her before going back to their pie. Except for Ron, who continued to stare at the two darkly. It almost made Harry feel guilty until he realised that he had nothing to feel guilty about. Ron was excluding himself. Wasn't he?

"Just as I said, Hermione. Be a love and spy for me?"

She giggled and patted his leg under the table. "I'll check, but after that I'm straight for bed."

"Mind if I come up and tuck you in later?" Harry murmured.

Hermione's eyes flitted around the table before giving him a barely perceptible wink. "Maybe."

He laughed and looked at the pie in front of him as Hermione excused herself from the table and went upstairs. Shrugging, Harry took a bite, the taste of fruit, butter, and spice melting over his tongue. After that, it was easy to finish off and he even snatched up another one after that. Ginny came back into the kitchen eventually and finished eating her food, but Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

Conversation around the table was quieting and gradually, everyone drifted off, leaving Harry alone with Mr and Mrs Weasley.

"Harry dear, would you like another pie?"

He shook his head and patted his stomach in a way that he'd found convinced Mrs Weasley that he was indeed pleasantly full. It was difficult to resist though as Mrs Beeton had nothing on the woman as far as kitchen skills went. "No, Mrs Weasley. I'm full up."

She nodded and stood to clear all the plates away. Mr Weasley finished off his tea and looked up at Harry speculatively.

"Harry, could I ask you to bring Draco downstairs? The missus and I need to have a word with him," he asked in a way that didn't really brook refusal.

"Mr Weasley, there is something that he and I need to discuss with you first. I think it may be more . . . well, it's very important."

Mrs Weasley looked up from the sink and put her wand down, frowning at him. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry squirmed in his seat. "I think that Malfoy should be the one to say something about this; it really isn't my place to say anything, but I promised him I'd be here."

Mr Weasley spared his wife a Look. "This sounds more important than the Floo Network. Bring him down, Harry. We'll have a chat."

Harry nodded and stood up from the table, leaving the kitchen and plodding up the stairs. He really was dreading this and he felt sorry for Malfoy. That was a first in and of itself; the boy had been a complete prat since the moment they met and now he felt sorry for him? Then again, who wouldn't in this situation?

The corridor to his right was dimly lit and Harry couldn't make out the faces of two figures that were embroiled in a heated argument near Draco's room. But he knew the voices and climbed more quickly in anger.

"But Hermione, I lov— "

"Don't say it, Ron! I can't hear it now. I told you that I don't feel that way about you anymore. You had a chance and you wasted it."

Harry could see the taller figure lean down to kiss the small one and he broke into a run, tripping over the last step. There was a massive crack heard then as Hermione reached up to slap Ron and turned toward the wall, hiding her face in shaking hands.

"Ron, what are you doing?"

Ron looked up at hearing Harry's voice and narrowed his eyes. "Stay out of this, Harry. This is between me and Hermione, it's none of your business."

"I'll say it's my bloody business! That's my gir— " Harry stopped, eyes wide. He was about to say that . . . to Ron. Oh God. He'd been so blind and it had never even occurred to him that— Ron was in love. He had never been worried about being the third wheel at all. It was always about Hermione. None of this would have mattered, so long as she was happy, but—she didn't want Ron. Right?

Ron had stilled, his shoulders stooped forward. "So that's it, is it?"

He glared down at Hermione, who was still hunched against the wall and not looking at anyone. "You're with Harry now. How long has this been going on? How many years have you two been lying to me?"

Harry clenched his fists and his face flushed an ugly red colour. He spoke quietly in a voice that ached with guilt and betrayal. "Bit rich for you to talk about lies, Ron. You've been telling Hermione that I'm the town whore for ages."

Ron's eyes widened and his nostrils flared with rage. "You're stupid to believe anything she says. If anyone here is a whore and a liar, it's her."

Hermione shrank even further into the wall, her small frame shaking. Harry stepped forward then and slammed Ron against the door to Draco's room, his anger a tight coil waiting to be unleashed.

"Take that back, Ron or so help me, I'll pound you flat."

"Go on, then. Take a shot, Harry."

Ron was challenging him, almost as if he wanted to see what would happen when the famous Harry Potter lost his temper. Slowly, Harry removed his hands from Ron's shoulders. He breathed slowly, in and out, forcing the rage to subside.

"Hermione and I will leave tomorrow morning. Maybe you'll have come around by the time school starts again."

Ron laughed. "And how are you going to leave? You're stuck with us other rats here."

"I'll find a way," Harry ground out. "Even if I have to carry her down the road on my back, we‘re leaving. If I have to spend another day here with you, I might do something we'll both regret."

"I doubt you'd regret anything, Harry."

Harry looked at Ron, his breath coming in great heaves. Then he glanced down at Hermione. This was too hard; it wasn't supposed to be like this. They were both his friends, how could he make a choice like this?

Eventually, it was the way Hermione's shoulders were shaking in combination with Ron's glare that made it easier to decide between love and friendship. Even if things didn‘t work out romantically, he and Hermione would always be friends. But Ron . . .

"Goodbye, Ron," Harry said softly before turning away and leading Hermione back down the hall and upstairs to her room.

Of course he regretted it, Ron had been with him since his first day on the train to Hogwarts almost seven years ago. They'd been through so much together and had always remained friends.

Until now.

It wasn't Hermione's fault. If it hadn't been her, it would've been someone or something else. Ron had always been jealous, only now Harry knew how far that extended. Given the choice between the best friend who was jealous of him and the best friend, the woman, he loved, Harry had chosen her.

Now that he reflected upon it though, he realised that it may not have been the wisest choice. Voldemort was still there, lurking in the shadows for the moment when everything would hang in the balance and Harry would have to make more agonising decisions in regard to those who were important to him. It would have been kinder to break her heart then, and have done with it. But he couldn‘t bear to see her in pain, and he knew somehow that she wouldn‘t have accepted his apparent indifference. Hermione had fought by his side for almost seven years. A rejection from him would never change that.

Voldemort and the drama of life were eating away at all Harry valued, leaving ghosts behind.

And Hermione would never be safe, even if Voldemort died this moment and didn‘t trouble them again; life was out there. Life was waiting for them like a praying mantis.

How could he live without Hermione when she was the one good thing remaining in his world?