Manacled

Chapter 48: Flashback 23

He returned her wand to her and attacked her again. And again, and again. He was relentless, and annoyingly conversational. He'd disarm her without even using a spell, and then proceed to trip her, or twist an arm behind her back and force her into a helpless position, while relentlessly drawling what she could have done better.

Hermione grew progressively more and more irritated with him, which he noticed and seemed amused by.

"I'm a hag," he announced with a smirk before attacking her for the twentieth time. Hermione shot off a series of stunners as she tried to stay out of his reach, but he rapidly dodged them and closed in. She tried to dive to escape him, but he caught her by the ankle. She whirled and tried to hex him, but he snatched her wand out of her hand and tossed it into a corner, and then proceeded to sit on her hips. "I would probably slit you open and start eating your organs at this point," he noted casually, sliding a hand over her stomach. "You're worse at this than you were at dancing, and you were an abysmal dancer."

"I've never done this kind of fighting before," Hermione said mutinously as she tried to wriggle free. "Do you have any idea how many kinds of hand-to-hand combat there are? I browsed through dozens of books, but I had no idea what type of fighting I was expected to learn." She glared and added, "I could stab you with one of my knives now."

He stared at her thoughtfully and then nodded. "We should use practice knives. I'll bring a set."

Hermione studied him in bewilderment. "Why are you in such a good mood today?"

Months of enduring his cold rage, and suddenly he was cheerful and conversational for no apparent reason.

He looked at her for a moment and then smirked. "Joie de vivre, I suppose. Or maybe I'm just unexpectedly fond of sitting on you."

Hermione eyed him dubiously and wondered if he was high on something.

He stood up and offered her a hand. She blinked in surprise and accepted it. Then she studied him.

He was strangely happy-borderline affectionate-seeming. Hermione was not. She felt on the verge of a breakdown just looking at him.

A month. She had a month. A month to find a way to control him.

Control him. Even if she could, she had no idea how she was possibly going to demonstrate it.

"After all, what exactly is he getting from having you? You aren't sleeping with him. He's teaching you to duel, he taught you occlumency. What benefit are you providing him?"

"What would you even say you are to him?"

Hermione felt as though she were going to have a panic attack. She stared at Draco in despair.

"Don't be afraid to use your elbows," he said. "When you're fending off close range attacks, punching won't have much force. Elbows are hard and ideal for close attacks. Better than something as ineffective as slapping."

"Slapping worked rather well on you," Hermione retorted.

Draco snorted faintly. "If you're attacking a thirteen year old, by all means, slap him."

Hermione scowled.

"Again," he said, after she had caught her breath.

He lunged toward her. Rather than try to bolt, she moved toward him and then side-stepped at the last minute. He pivoted and turned back, but she'd already hit him with a stinging hex and caught his ankle with a leg locker. He was too close for more spellwork. She tried to leap away but he grabbed her by the arm, knocked her wand away and dragged her to the ground with him.