Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written as a gift fic for Katy, katyedavis, one of the amazing Chasers for the Wasps. For her having one of the highest scores in round 5. Congrats, Katy :)

Black Heart

It could all be traced back to the war. The war that the Light won that faithful day in '98. Draco could still remember his mother's tears moistening his tattered shirt. That day had brought so much relief to so many people. Draco sure had felt it. He knew he had been about to break; just a little more and he would have completely shattered.

It was ironic that the ones to prevent it had been three people he had despised his whole life.

Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and, of course, Harry Potter.

Those three were the indisputable heroes of the war. People worshiped the ground they walked on while the Ministry threw offers at them – all in all, the three had the world at their fingertips.

Draco was only slightly less surprised than everyone else when the three didn't do what was expected of them.

Potter and Weasley didn't accept the auror positions offered to them, while Granger refused the position in the Magical Law Department. Instead all three of them went back to Hogwarts, insisting on sitting for their exams. And while everyone expected for the three of them to keep to themselves, the three heroes of the war spread their wings and interacted more with the student body than they had ever done in the previous school years.

Draco supposed he should have suspected something then.

Draco though, just like everyone else, was simply so relieved that it was finally over that he didn't notice.

However, that didn't mean that Draco hadn't seen.

He had watched from the sidelines as the three heroes went about their school year, achieving some of the highest scores in decades. And now, now that he knew, he couldn't help but curse his stupidity, his blindness.

The signs had been there, and he, like the rest of the sheep in the Wizarding World, had ignored them.

Draco had watched as Weasley went on to become an auror, as was expected. Granger opted to be a professor at Hogwarts, a little surprising for some but those that knew her found it less so. Potter though, surprised everyone when he went into politics. Well, everyone but Weasley and Granger.

Draco remembered the smirks on their faces when the announcement was made. At the time Draco believed that he had simply imagined it, that it had been a trick of the light.

Now he knew better.

In less than ten years the three of them were in the highest positions they could achieve.

Draco had watched all of it in silence, slowly realizing what the rest of the world seemed too blind to see.

Weasley became the youngest Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department in history.

Granger the youngest Headmistress since the founding of Hogwarts.

Potter the youngest Minister of Magic ever elected.

And that's when the pieces started falling into place.

That's when Draco understood.

Those three had done what the Dark Lord had tried to do, and had failed so spectacularly at.

They had complete control over the Wizarding World, and no one seemed to notice. The public was blissfully ignorant to what was happening, and for just a moment Draco envied that ignorance.

Still, Draco said nothing.

He continued to watch as those three shaped the world to their liking.

Granger molded the minds of the young.

Weasley made sure that there were no uproars.

Potter charmed the masses.

They had formed a triumvirate of power, and none was the wiser.

Draco wondered if his life would have been different if he had said something.

If he had then maybe he wouldn't find himself kneeling in front of a Dark Lord once more.

He glanced up, his eyes locking on the Dark Lord, sprawled on his throne, and on his left and right his two most trusted advisers.

Who would have thought that the heroes of the Light would have become the most successful Dark Lords in history?

"Dismissed." The Dark Lord's voice echoed in the hall, and the sea of followers rose, Draco among them. "Draco, stay behind."

Draco froze, hardly daring to breathe.

"Step forward."

Draco obeyed, keeping his head lowered, until he heard a deep chuckle. He glanced up, and locked eyes with the emerald green ones of the Dark Lord.

The amusement in that look made him shiver. Out of the three of them it was the Dark Lord that was the most ruthless, even if he was able to make the punishment sound like a reward.

"Draco." He glanced to the right, and cold blue eyes froze him in place. The Enforcer. He was unwavering loyal to the Dark Lord. It was rumored among the ranks that he had been the one to kill the Dark Lord's wife, the Enforcer's own sister, when she had been found sleeping with another man. "You have been loyal, we believe you deserve a reward."

The Dark Lord chuckled, a smirk stretching his lips.

"Have fun."

"Oh, I will."

Draco shivered at the sultry voice, turning to look into the sharp brown eyes. The Adviser. Her dedication to the Dark Lord was unparalleled. She lived for the Dark Lord, and she would gladly die for him too. If rumors were to be believed, she had tied her own life force to the Dark Lord, making it so that if it ever came down to it her own life would sustain him. Then again, according to rumors, so had the Enforcer.

And even though Draco had long learned not to believe in rumors, part of him couldn't help but believe these.

The Dark Lord and the Enforcer chuckled, wicked grins painting their lips as they left the hall.

The Adviser glided down the steps that lead to the throne, her eyes never leaving him, and he felt like cornered prey.

"Draco," she whispered, her warm breath caressing his cheek. "Did you miss me?"

"My Lady-"

"It's Hermione, lovely, you know that."

Draco swallowed, his heart thumping in his chest. He looked into her laughing eyes and his heart broke, as it had so many times before.

"I missed you, Hermione." And he hated himself for voicing it, for falling into her trap once more.

And when her sweet, soft lips brushed against his, he knew he would fall into her trap many more times.

His emotions, his feelings, may be nothing more than playthings for his Masters, but for just a moment he could pretend.

He could pretend that he was more than what he was, that life had turned out differently. That he was loved and cherished by the woman of his dreams.

As clothes became sparse and he lost himself in her body he could pretend that he had a hold of her black heart.