urges. His cock might have developed an addiction to her, but his brain was the one calling the shots.
Most of the time.
It was like his mother used to say, "one annoyance at a time, darling, and if you find yourself with too many, then you need more staff". Pansy was not there to act as a calming buffer, Crabbe was long gone, Millicent gave good advice when not in the throes of teenage hormones, Goyle was not there to provide a testosterone boost. Zabini was...
Hmm. What was Zabini? Blaise was a brain, like Granger, and nice enough decoration, but he'd always remained a bit separate from the rest of them. Draco had always assumed that the boy had political aspirations, which was why he made such an effort to be cordial to everyone.
Even Hufflepuffs.
Blaise would have been the better choice to recruit as spy for the Ministry. He mixed around more and was more well-liked than Draco. And yet, it had been he, Draco, who had been tasked with the long term assignment of weeding out potential Voldemort supporters.
Draco scoffed. Arthur Weasley, Dumbledore and the whole bloody Ministry could go to hellexcept. that it was his inheritance and birthright on the line.
Was that worth his friends, though?
Were they really his friends? It was a quandary, being a Slytherin with friends. It didn't take a genius to work out that Potty and the Weasel would have thrown themselves under a bus if it meant the ensured safety of the people they cared about. That was the sort of cheesy bravado that came from Gryffindor House.
Slytherins were more practical. A Slytherin would calmly enquire if there was someone of influence who could be bribed, bashed or bedded, before even contemplating self sacrifice.
Granger is a person of influence. Perhaps I should keep the girl in my bed and see where that might get me?
The thought held a new and definite allure. It struck him as very odd indeed that he had not been viewing her as a potential step ladder or as a means to a better bargain with the Ministry, rather than a bothersome dalliance he wanted to be rid off. It was unlike him to ignore the silver lining of this current dark cloud.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, fixing the strap on the sandal he had taken off her foot. As he thought this, she turned to look at him with brown eyes that could hold no malice even if someone had managed to bottle the stuff and injected it directly into her eyeballs.
There was a sickening sweetness to her. She was a novelty, something he had little experience with and as a result, found fascinating. She was like Potter, in that regard, they had that same unblemished innocence about them. They were the type of people who would only have fleeting unkind thoughts about someone in the privacy of their own minds, and even then, would still chastise themselves about it.
Draco sighed. He knew why he couldn' t do it. Why he couldn' t keep her. But to admit it was a fate worse than death.
"I'm going to get out for a bit. Wait here for me," he told her, brusquely.
"Oh?" she stood up, looking pleased to have an excuse to speak. "Are you going to look for something to eat? If so, I'll go with you."
No, you enormous twit. I don' t want you to come with me. You' re staying here, his brain prodded at him to say. If you follow me, I might snap.
"Fine. Whatever," was what actually came out. He found he was too hungry to put up much resistance.
Draco retrieved his Nutrisoil cap and ignored her small smile when he put it on.
**
It took them half an hour to walk a hundred meters, it was that crowded in Diagon Alley. They passed by several stalls that were selling extremely barbequed things on sticks. Several people could be spotted walking around, carrying said sticks and tearing out bites of the stringy looking meat. The expressions on their faces did not bode well.
"Florean Fortescue' s is packed," Hermione remarked. She was standing on the pavement on her toes to get a better look. "I don't think we've got a chance of even getting inside any of the other pubs."
"I'm not eating rat on a stick," Draco muttered.
The corner of her mouth twitched. "I think the man said it was quail."
"Quail does not have a long, skinny tail."
She laughed. It was the first