The Fractured Flame | Draco Malfoy Love Story

Chapter Six: Pride-less and Very Prejudiced

Draco stood up and turned her so that her back was against the island. He towered over her, still holding her wrists over his right shoulder so that their bodies were flush. Hermione didn't drop her gaze, staring at him coldly. All the while, she was ignoring the hard outlines of his body and the way her body reacted to his presence. She didn't want to simply smell his cologne, she wanted to drown in it and see what his body looked like underneath all the suit layers.

"That's the great thing about war, Granger." Draco scowled down at her, using his forefinger to tilt her chin up. "It's never really over and there is no winning side. Voldemort had purist idealizations. He dreamed of a Pureblood society and only Purebloods would rule over mudbloods." He ignored the way she flinched at his harsh tone, "What has changed since the war ended besides the Death Eaters being sent to Azkaban? You still fight for your people and the bastards at the Ministry ignore your pleas for equal rights and wages. Families like mine are treated like royalty, I still have more money than I bloody know what to do with, and yet if I got the same job as you at the Ministry; I would be treated better regardless of the atrocities I've done. All because of my family connections even if I was Voldemort's right hand and dear Aunt Bellatrix was his left."

With each second passing, Hermione's anger and frustration grew. Not because he was being an arse-though let the record know Draco Malfoy was the biggest arsehole to have ever walked through her apartment door-he was right.

"When I'm Minister, I'll change that." Hermione gritted out defiantly, "Now let me go."

His eyes stayed cold as an even icier smile formed on his lips. "Answer a question and I'll let go."

"Depends on the question."

He tsked, "I don't think you're in any position to argue, Golden girl."

"Ask your bloody question, Malfoy." Hermione snapped, a tinge of desperation to her voice.

Draco's lips curved up in a malicious smile as if knowing he was affecting her, "Why did you break up with the Weasel?"

Pride-less and Very Prejudiced

The ridiculousness of the question caught her off-guard. "What?"

"You heard me." He didn't falter in the slightest.

Hermione repeated his question, "You want to know why I broke up with Ron? What makes you think that I broke up with him?"

"Because you were entirely out of his league." Draco said it so easily like he was talking about the irrefutable principles of Merlin and so casually like the results of the last Quidditch match with the Holyhead Harpies. However, seeing her expression, he blinked. "You really let the Weasel break up with you?"

Cheeks on fire, Hermione glanced away, uncomfortably. "Ron and I weren't compatible. He thought I was too...too..."

"Much of a swot?"

"No."

"In need of a hairbrush for that curly hair?"

"No."

"Hmm..." He pretended to think hard, "Ah! A nosy little otter."

"Needy." She gritted out, refusing to meet his eyes.