Power

The flowerpot smashed on the wall beside his head.

"Asteria!"

"Rot in hell, Draco!"

One of the china plates they had so carefully picked at the store missed him by a mere inch, but the fiasco didn't deter Asteria's wrath; if anything, it spurred her into using the whole set as bullets. Draco dodged, thanking his training in the Quidditch team with every collision he managed to avoid.

So, his calculations had been wrong, and his fiancée had yet to shed a tear since he had broken the news to her. Her delicate features had morphed the instant the words 'cancel' and 'wedding' had left his mouth, and she now resembled a hideous mélange between a Banshee and a Veela.

"Get out of my house!" she screamed at last, aiming the serving plate at him.

Draco hurried over to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the mantelpiece. He heard the china crash at his feet and realised he couldn't hang around much longer if he wanted to make it out alive. He threw the powder into the fire and stepped forward, shouting 'Malfoy Manor' over the sound of Asteria's angry shrieks.

She hadn't even wanted to listen to him; she had started yelling and chucking things at him instead. Not that it mattered now, but it was a side of her he wouldn't have minded never getting to know. He looked around the huge room he had arrived into and tried to reason with the guilt he was feeling. Their marriage hadn't been exactly arranged, but then it needn't have been. They had known each other, liked each other to a certain extent and they were pure-bloods. Both families couldn't have asked for more in the post-war world they were living in.

His hand had just closed around the binding of a book when green flames erupted in the fireplace. Asteria had followed him? Had the witch no pride left? Obviously she had, because it was The Boy Who Lived who was standing in his living room when he turned around.

Trust the saviour of wizardkind to abuse his powers as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and come barging into his home. Draco stared at him confused and vexed at the invasion.

Potter looked even more incensed than him.

"You are despicable," he seethed. "I saw you yesterday! I bet you're doing it out of spite, just to get at me." He took one menacing step forward. "You're using her."

At last understanding whom he was talking about, Draco rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Granger had told him she had no intention of hiding any longer after he had delayed confessing to Asteria for another day and that she was going to tell her friends; Potter had been the first of the list, he supposed, along with his red-headed wife. He hadn't exactly expected to be welcomed with open arms, but this pantomime was pitiful.

He was so busy thinking about Gryffindors' talent for misunderstanding and misinterpreting information that he didn't notice how with that one step Potter had taken, they were now too close for comfort. He was standing before Draco with his fist in the air ready to strike. He heard, rather than felt, the blow a few seconds before it made contact with his nose.

"Harry!"

Granger was hardly out of the flames when she lunged towards her friend, yanking him away from Draco. Her looks – shabby pyjamas and hair even messier than normal – didn't suit the ire etched on her face.

Her slap echoed through the empty room; even if he hadn't been on the receiving end, to Draco the action itself brought back memories of his third year that he had wished to bury in the deep recess of his mind.

"Why?" she asked him with tears in her angry eyes. "I made my choice, Harry, and I told you he has nothing to do with it!"

Draco advanced on the duo. "Nothing?"

"Oh, you shut up!" she snapped.

Potter seemed to think the exchange was only further proof of what he had been looking for, and he disentangled himself from his friend's grasp.

He looked at Draco.

"I'm going to tell you something your own father would tell you," he said. "I forbid you to go anywhere near Hermione."

Maybe it was his tone or the uncanny situation they were in, but Draco felt something upon hearing Potter's last sentence, as if more than mere vocal activity were taking place in his home. Those were not the words of a protective friend or a trained Auror; that had sounded more like an order, as if – dared he think it – The Boy Who Lived had used an Unforgivable on him, trying to get him to obey his directive.

"Malfoy," Granger started, "are you all right?"

Potter grinned in triumph when Draco failed to answer her. Draco decided there and then that if The Boy Who Lived didn't like seeing him with his friend, he would have to set him straight. Granger, who seemed to have sensed something was off, came to his side. Draco smirked at the other wizard as he slid one arm around her waist.

"Don't you dare..." Potter said in the same domineering tone.

"You don't get to choose for me," Draco lashed back.

He positioned his hands on Granger's hips and looked into her eyes. He immediately felt a tug, something that attempted to rid him of his desire for the bushy-haired witch; a voice was telling him that he wasn't allowed to touch her and that he needed to step back now to avoid nastier consequences than the Mark he bore on his arm. He shook his head and looked back at Potter. The man was gripping his wand and muttering under his breath; his green eyes were shooting daggers.

"Kiss me," he heard Granger whisper.

He nodded and hoped it would make the voice in his head stop. As they closed the small distance between them, he brushed her lips carefully but wasted no time in deepening the kiss once nothing too painful happened; the voice was still there, but Granger's rushed heartbeat against his put a damper on everything else. He savoured kissing her for the first time, allowing her tongue to explore his mouth but demanding the same in return. Draco's senses were amplified by his desperate need to fight the pull Potter was keeping on him, and the liplock grew hungry until they both ran out of breath; they separated, still keeping their eyes closed.

"As I said, you don't get to choose, Potter."

*

Prompt: Forbidden Kiss.