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Assistant: Title: On the Nature of Daylight
        Author: ikorous ikorous 
        Chapter: 11/27 
        Summary: Hermione Granger wanted to lose control. And Draco Malfoy wanted to take it.
        Contents: Chapter 11: eleven
    

    


      
        
          
          (See the end of the chapter for  notes.)
          
      
  

  
  
    
    
  eleven
 .  
  Draco was lying back on the black leather couch and staring up at the domed vaulted ceiling of the Slytherin common room. Large stone beams arched up, holding up the walls of the underwater room and keeping the cold, dark water of the Black Lake from crushing it and rushing in.

  He thought he saw a crack.

  These weren't feelings, they were... F@ck, what were 
  
    these?
  

  It was normal to feel 
  
    something, 
  
  for someone who was so per—

  No. Stop.

  Try again.

  It was 
  
    normal 
  
  to feel something for someone who was exactly what he wanted.

  Draco pressed his lips together. Not that much better.

  It was normal to feel something.

  He'd start there.

  Just because it had never happened before didn't mean that it couldn't happen, that he wasn't capable of caring about someone.

  But not Granger.

  Never Granger.

  It was normal that eventually one of the girls he f@ck@d would spark something—

  No! No sparks! He scowled.

  Not sparks, more like a roaring fire. A mix of flickering yellow, glowing orange, and burning red. Gryffindor red.

  He glanced back up at the crack. It was normal... to feel. On fire.

  He wanted that crack to break and all that freezing water to come crashing down on him. It didn't mean anything; 
  
    she 
  
  didn't mean anything.

  It was just a good f@ck. That's all. That's why he was feeling like this because he had never imagined that it would have been this good. He had played it out dozens of times in his head. Hundreds. Maybe that was why this was happening. He had to let all this play out, over and over, until his brain caught up with his c@ck and he'd had enough of her.

  Maybe that could work? At least this way he'd still get to f@ck Granger as much as he wanted. And once he had his fill, whenever that was, 
  
    then 
  
  it would be normal. Then he could go back to hating her in peace. He could finish his task. He could kill Dumbledore—

  Draco swallowed something sour tasting. That's what started all of this in the first place. He only had a limited time left and had thought what the hell, why not try and get under the Mudblood's skirt? Not like anything really mattered anymore.

  It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Nothing he was feeling or not feeling. If f@ck@ng Granger made his day just a little easier then he was going to do it. Because he hated everything else. Everything but her.

  No, 
  
    especially 
  
  her.

  Draco stared at the crack until his eyes burned. 

  This was not normal.
  
  .
  
  "Stay away from him."

  Hermione blinked and looked into the pinched face of Lavender Brown up from her perch on the courtyard bench. It was the first day it hadn't rained in a week and she had eaten lunch quickly and taken the rest of her break out in fresh air. It was cold and bracing, but at least it was quiet here and things were busy enough inside her head, sometimes she had to retreat away from her classmates to find some peace.

  "I'm sorry, who are we talking about?" Hermione asked, nonplussed. There was no way Lavender knew about Malfoy. Right?

  "Ron."

  "Oh." Hermione shrugged and bent her head back down to her book. "Okay." Although she didn't feel the same anger towards Ron as she had before, they were still not on speaking terms and Hermione had no plans to change that until he apologized. Profusely.

  Lavender remained standing there until Hermione looked back up at her again. "Can I help you?" she asked, a little irritated now.

  "I don't know what little game you're playing but just so you know, Ron is mine." Lavender put her hands on her hips.

  Hermione stared up at her, completely lost. It was not a feeling she was accustomed to. "Okay..." she said slowly.

  "So keep your mitts off."

  "Done," Hermione said simply. Yes, she missed Ron and the friendship they had shared and yes, it was causing a strain on her friendship with Harry now too, but no she was not trying to steal Ronald away from Lavender. Her feelings towards him were not completely resolved, but she was working on it. It just took time. And now that Ron was in love with Lavender she needed to take that time for herself. And maybe share a little bit of it with Malfoy.

  "And keep his name out of your mouth," Lavender added snottily. 

  Hermione had had enough of this.

  "Okay—" she closed her book and stood up. "I don't know what you're talking about and I don't—"

  "You were calling his name in your sleep last night." Lavender's eyes raked over her. "Desperate, really."

  Hermione froze as a chill wind whipped past them, throwing her curls back over her shoulders. She had dreamed of the Department of Mysteries again last night, a common nightmare ever since the events occurred last year. "When I was asleep? As in unconscious? As in not in control of myself?"

  "Stay away from Ron." Lavender poked her finger into Hermione's chest.

  "Why don't you tell him to stay away from me?!" she snapped back. "The only time we've spoken in the last few months was because he talked to me!"

  Lavender's face fell open in shock. "How 
  
    dare 
  
  you—"

  "You know what? Why don't 
  
    you 
  
  stay away from 
  
    me
  
  , Lavender?" Hermione snarled. "And don't touch me again."

  "What are you going to do about it?" Lavender sneered in her face.

  Hermione felt the growing fire in her flare up. It had been a spark, weeks ago, and had flickered into a low flame inside of her. Her escapades with Malfoy had freed something, changed something in her. She wasn't the same bookish girl she had been.

  "Want to find out?" she said softly, glaring back at the blonde in front of her. Lavender took a step back and looked over Hermione once more.

  "What's gotten into you?" she asked.

  Something in her roared out the answer before she had time to think it through. "Something bigger and better than what's gotten into 
  
    you
  
  ."

  Lavender gave a disbelieving scoff and, staring at Hermione, slowly took a few more steps back before quickly turning and heading back inside.

  Hermione’s heart was pounding in her chest, hands shaking from the adrenaline pumping through her. She had never done anything like that before. She would never have dreamed of doing something like that before. Did she really just imply that she had slept with someone, Godric, 
  
    bigger and better 
  
  than Ron? What 
  
    was 
  
  that?!

  It had felt... good. Standing up to Lavender after years of little passive aggressive comments and then rubbing her relationship with Ron in her face and finally Hermione had been able to see a little flicker of apprehension in those pale blue eyes. She wasn't the bookish, odd little girl she had been before. Something in her was changing, growing, and she liked it.
  
  .
  
  Hermione 
  
    liked
  
   what Malfoy was doing to her. She always had a bold streak in her. She hadn't flinched when she had to fight with Harry at the Ministry and she hadn't cared at all about breaking the rules to form the D.A., but this felt different. This was coming from whatever it was that she was getting from Malfoy. In the oddest way it was almost empowering. She was seeing what she could be and... she liked it.

  "Well then why don't you, I don't know, tell her?" Harry said as he and Ron walked past Hermione at her desk in the back of the class before Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry glanced down at Hermione and gave her a small smile. Ron caught her eye for a moment and then looked away.

  "I don't know how much longer I can keep on like this though," Ron grumbled. "She's... suffocating me."

  Their conversation faded away from her as they took their seats out of earshot. Hermione wondered if Ron's comment had anything to do with the fact that Lavender might as well have put a permanent sticking charm on her and Ron. Anytime that Hermione was even in the same room as them, Lavender practically climbed on top of him.

  Parvati and Lavender entered the room a few minutes after. Lavender ignored her, but Parvati's dark eyes landed on her before she leaned over and whispered something behind her hand to Lavender as they hurried past Hermione to their seats.

  She pulled out her textbook and opened her notebook. She straightened her quill and laid her wand on her desk. No one was going to interfere with her education and schoolwork, no matter how annoying they were. She straightened her quill next to her wand and carefully unscrewed the cap of her inkwell and set it down as well, opening her notebook to look over the notes from the last lesson.

  Malfoy pulled his chair out, scratching the legs loudly on the floor before throwing himself in it. He threw his bag on the desk and stretched his legs out, leaning on the back two legs of the 
  chair indolently. His clothes were finely pressed with crisp lines in them today. No wrinkles or messy hair, instead Malfoy looked every bit a part of the aristocracy he was born into.

  She glanced over and saw Parvati watching her again. Quickly she looked away from Hermione but right before she went back to readying herself for the lesson, she saw Parvati's keen eyes look in Malfoy's direction as well.

  Hermione felt her heart give an extra thump and looked down and turned the page of her notebook to a blank one. Snape cleared his throat at the front of the class and everyone quieted down. No introduction, he started lecturing before half of the class even had their quills out. Vampires today. Hermione bent her head down, messy curls pooling on the desk as she started taking notes, writing down everything she could about vampires even though she had read the chapter on them twice now and probably could have taught it herself.

  It had not been ten minutes before Anthony Goldstein raised his hand and asked Snape to repeat what he had just said on anti-coagulants in vampire venom. Snape's disgusted expression silenced him and Hermione made a mental note to find him after class and let him copy her notes on it.

  Malfoy snorted. It wasn't loud, but from her adjacent desk in the back of the class Hermione could clearly hear it. Apparently Snape had as well.

  "Something amusing, Mr. Malfoy?" he drawled. Malfoy merely shrugged. "You might try opening your book or are you incapable of that as well as your failure to maintain your position as the Slytherin Seeker?"

  Hermione quickly looked at Malfoy who was seething in his seat. The little color his face contained seemed to pale as he ground his teeth together. He had gone impossibly still. His chest wasn't even moving; it was as if he was made of marble. 

  She turned when she heard sniggering and saw Ron trying to hold it in. She felt something burn inside of her and she wanted to throw her inkwell at him and see if he would still be smiling after that.

  Malfoy pushed himself up from the desk and stood there, tall and towering for a moment.

  "Sit... down." Snape's curt voice cut across the classroom.

  Hermione looked back towards Malfoy, not a hair out of place and not a muscle twitching in response. He moved as quickly as a snake striking when he grabbed his bag off the desk and turned, taking long strides to the door in the back of the classroom.

  "Return to your seat!" Snape hissed. Malfoy did not turn. "Mr. Malfoy!" The door slammed behind him and he was gone.
  
  .
  
  He hadn't been at dinner. He hadn't been wandering the lower levels of the castle either because she had taken extra time in her patrol this evening to check twice. Okay, three times, but who was counting? Prefects tended to cut their patrols short down there, at least the ones who weren't in Slytherin. Hermione had never spent any more time than necessary in the dungeons and Ron always rushed through it claiming that part of the castle just creeped him out. Normally she patrolled with Ron, but not anymore so tonight she had taken her time but had not found what she was looking for. What 
  
    was 
  
  she looking for?

  Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the Library doors open. It was the last place that she could think to look for Malfoy and had resigned herself to the fact that if he wasn't here then he didn't want to be found. Her steps were light as she quickly walked past the aisles, glancing down then and pointing her lit wand into the darkness. She hesitated a moment when she reached the gate to the Restricted Section, but steeled herself and opened it.

  The darkness was thicker here and she held her wand a little higher trying to combat it. She made her way down the aisles, twisting and turning until she came to a stop. The next one was where Malfoy had held her hands above her head and pressed her against the shelves. The memory still brought a heated flush to her and Hermione lifted her chin a little high as she rounded the corner.

  Malfoy was sitting on the floor. His long legs stretched out in front of him in a v-shape and a bottle of fire whisky sat between them. He had pulled his tie loose and it hung like a long green snake around his neck while his perfectly coiffed hair was now tousled and looked as though he might have tried to pull it out at one point or another. He swung his head in her direction. The grey of his eyes all but a silver surrounding large, black pupils that expanded slowly as she came nearer.

  "Granger..." He smirked slowly. "I knew you'd find me." 

  "Why's that?" she asked.

  "Because... you always do." He leaned his head back against the books behind him and lifted the bottle to his lips. "Always there."

  Now that she had found him, Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to be here. His wand lay at his side, inches from his hand which was resting on his thigh and he coughed a little as he sat the bottle back down. Malfoy was hard enough to deal with and she had no idea if a drunk Malfoy would be better or worse.

  "Come on, pet," Malfoy held the bottle out to her. "It would be dangerous to let me drink alone."

  Hermione bit her lip. Dangerous. Was he inebriated enough to know what words he was choosing?

  She walked stiffly over and knelt down beside him. Blue candles hovered overhead and she flicked her wand, extinguishing the light at the tip of it. "What does it taste like?" she asked hesitantly. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and shook his head, laughing a little. "What? Why are you laughing at me?"

  He handed her the bottle and Hermione sniffed it gingerly. "Do you have any idea just how... sweet you are? No matter Potter and Weasley kept you all to themselves all these years."

  Hermione tasted a bit of the whisky with the tip of her tongue and quickly pulled the bottle away from her lips. She placed the back of her hand over her mouth for a moment before sticking out her tongue and making a noise of disgust.

  Malfoy laughed again and took the bottle back from her. His fingers closed over hers and Hermione looked up at him again. Normally his expression was so reserved and guarded that it was almost overwhelming to see him like this. His muscles were relaxed, both in his shoulders and face. His smiles were slow, but seemed to come easier. And his eyes... normally cold and hard now were.... swirling with currents of... something, she wasn't sure what.

  "They didn't... keep me,” Hermione said, a little unsure of what he meant by that, but feeling the need to set the record straight anyway. “And how can you stand to drink that? It's awful!" She shook her head and her caramel curls tossed back and forth.

  Malfoy took a deep breath. "There are worse things." He shrugged and took another drink.

  "Why are you here, Malfoy?" Hermione asked and sank down from her knees and tucked her legs to the side. Malfoy watched her move and she quickly adjusted her skirt when she saw his gaze falling on the stretch of skin that had just become exposed over her knee. "Why are you drinking alone?"

  He answered without hesitation. "It's safer."

  He was staring straight ahead at the shelves on the opposite side of the narrow aisle. She was surprised that he even answered her question seeing as how much her inquiries had bothered him in the past.

  "Safer?" Hermione pushed her luck.

  "Apparently I talk when I drink now," Malfoy swung his head back to her, glaring. "Thanks to you. And there are things that I would—" He stopped talking and blinked his eyes before opening them wide. "Woah, okay." He ran his hand over his face and blinked a few more times, trying to gather himself back together. "Things that I would prefer not to be known. Drink." He shoved the bottle back at her. This time, his words came slowly and weren't as crisp and curt as they normally were.

  Hermione pushed it back towards him. "No thanks."

  "Drink." His voice dropped low and she had the distinct impression that it wasn't an offer, but an order.

  Hermione gently took the bottle. "What sort of things?" she asked, holding the bottle up almost to her lips. She wasn't sure if she wanted to sit here and drink with Malfoy, but she knew for certain that she didn't want to leave just yet.

  Malfoy smirked. "Maybe the fact that I'm f@ck@ng a Mudblood."

  "Don't call me that," Hermione said firmly, setting the bottle down hard. She was not about to sit here and drink with someone who was going to throw cruel slurs around like that.

  "What would you like me to call you then?" Malfoy asked, eyes playful. "Pet? Kitten?" He leaned a little closer to her and she could smell the whisky on his breath mixing with his mint. "My dirty little sl@t?"

  She glared at him as he leaned back again, taking the bottle with him. "I have a name, you know."

  "Oh," Malfoy said as if he was suddenly bored. "I hadn't noticed."

  "There's a lot you don't notice about me," Hermione muttered and looked down at the floor. 

  "Doubt it." Malfoy snorted. Then added, "Like what?"

  She glanced back up at him, a thin silver band was the only thing holding back the impossible blackness in his eyes. He was so confusing. Most of the time he acted like he hated her, but then he would grab her and kiss her with such need, such want, that she knew those kisses weren't fueled by hatred. And what was most confusing were times like this when he just talked to her, talked to her like he... liked her.

  "Like the fact that I'm not just a bookworm or your plaything. I'm a person." She raised her chin up. She may not know Malfoy, but she knew herself.

  Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Mudbloods aren't people." 

  "What makes you think that? Honestly. What things make you think that the rhetoric you were taught growing up is correct? In what way are Muggleborns really less than Pureblooods?"

  Malfoy stared at her for a moment before taking a deep breath. "You come into our world knowing nothing. Nothing about us. Nothing about magic. Nothing about the history of the culture that you're now claiming to be a part of. You come from Muggles. Muggles who have forced us to hide away in secrecy for our own protection for centuries. You're part of the problem."

  "And what problem is that?" Hermione snapped.

  "The fact that we are supposed to just welcome you with open arms. My family has worked for centuries for the position that we hold. We've earned our place, we deserve it. If a Muggle child shows abilities then they are brought into our world, our society, and we are supposed to just, what, accept that? Treat you like you belong here? You don't. You've got your own world. Go live in it and leave us alone," he added almost bitterly and brought the bottle up, scoffed, and sat it back down.

  She had never really heard the reasoning from someone like Malfoy before. During her second year, Hermione had, of course, looked up Pureblood and Muggleborn history in the library first. Then she had talked about it with Harry and Ron and even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, asking questions as to why Muggleborns were so hated by certain types of wizards. They explained all about blood Purity and she had thought she understood. Until now. Until she realized why they prized that Purity.

  "And that's how you see me? That I would be better off with a snapped wand and forced back into the Muggle world?" Hermione asked bitterly.

  Malfoy's expression changed and he had that same tired look on his face for a moment before the mischievous smirk was back. "You'd be better stripped naked and spread wide."

  "I mean it, Malfoy." Hermione wasn't budging, but she did blush at his filthy words.

  "So do I." He pushed her skirt up her leg some and she shoved his hand away, pulling it back down.

  "How do you reconcile it then?" she asked quickly and he looked back up at her. "Your ideology and the fact that you... that we..."

  "Does it matter?" he asked, rolling his eyes and she noticed it took him a second too long to bring them back in focus. She glanced down at the bottle of fire whisky. It was more than half gone.

  "It matters to me," she said softly.

  "I'm a Malfoy. That means something in this world whether you realize it or not. Means I'm important. Means I'll go on to do great things like my father and his father before him. Means I'll carry on that legacy, that name. Means I'll protect it. F@ck@ng you is just..." his eyes moved over her and then, he sighed.

  "I like certain things, Granger. I need them. Other girls... they can... they're fine, but there's a... a type that I have to have. And I guess being a Mudblood gives you a natural subservience that I can use. And right now I need it. I need..." He trailed off and slowly brought his eyes back to hers.

  "A certain type," she stated and took the bottle from beside him and sniffed it again. Three Butterbeers had her struggling to stay upright; she only imagined what this fire whisky would do to her. "And what type is that exactly?"

  Malfoy's eyes narrowed but there was no malice in them this time. He was studying her again. "Smart girl like you, surprised you haven't figured it out yet."

  "Well as I've said before, I'm not as experienced as you," Hermione snipped and took another sniff of the bottle; there was something sweet there. Despite his cruel words about Muggleborns, Malfoy was actually being... civil, maybe even pleasant. At least, as pleasant as he got. She wasn't sure if he had meant to, or even noticed that he did, but he had given her a compliment. Again.

  "You're so..." Malfoy took a deep breath and his lids hung heavily over his grey eyes. "Pure." He slurred the word slowly and she saw him reach his hand out, but wasn't sure if he was reaching for her or the bottle.

  Hermione wrinkled her nose. "You don't make any sense." She fought back a laugh in the back of her throat. Drunk Malfoy wasn't so bad after all.

  "Neither do you!" Malfoy said playfully. "A Mudblood who can't get her nose out of a book long enough to look into a mirror and you're still one of the best looking girls in school. So prim and proper but the second I get your knickers off you're just as filthy as me."

  Was he right? Was she... like him? Was that why she let him do these things to her? Hermione felt the corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile. "You complimented me again."

  "I guess you're right, I'm not making any sense." Malfoy let out a low laugh. It sounded almost real. He reached over for the bottle, but Hermione yanked it back from him. "That's mine."

  Hermione gave him a flat smile and took a large drink. She was emboldened by his change in demeanor and if he was being civil then maybe she could enjoy a drink with him. The fire whisky burned down her throat deeply and as soon as she brought the bottle away from her mouth she could feel it in her head. This worked much faster than Butterbeer. It tasted 
  
    awful 
  
  though and for a moment she thought she might get sick until a strange warm feeling seeped into her bloodstream and she glanced up to find Malfoy's dark eyes wide.

  "Oh, is it?" she said sweetly as she wiped her bottom lip with her thumb. "I didn't know."

  
    "Mine."
  
   Malfoy growled and lunged for her, grabbing her wrists and pulling her towards him in one swift movement. 

  His lips collided with hers and she tasted the same awful whisky on his tongue but found when it was mixed with his mint, it wasn't as bad as she thought it had been. She felt the bottle of fire whisky being lifted from her hands and heard as he set it on the hard floor beside them before he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

  Hermione was kissing him back. She didn't even try to fight it this time, she didn't want to. She wanted to. She wanted this. Wanted him. Her hands were on his chest and she dug her fingers into the soft shirt there, feeling the hardness of his chest underneath. Malfoy's hands spread over her back, holding her up and against him as his lips enveloped hers, sucking and slipping with their whisky wetness.

  She ran her hands up over his collar and neck and into his already tousled hair. Malfoy groaned a little as her nails ran along his scalp and Hermione repeated the action, causing him to press forward, deepening their kiss and turning it rougher. His teeth grazed across her bottom lips and her breath hitched as she waited for him to bite down on it.

  Malfoy slowly ran his tongue across it, cool from the whisky and cold air. Hermione shivered in his hands. She felt one of his hands rise up into her hair and knew he was about to wrap it around his fist to control their kiss. When he sharply jerked her head to the side she gasped out against the twinge of pain and heard a dark chuckle come from the lips that had just been on hers.

  "Oh my little Mudblood... the things you make me want to do..." His voice was low and hoarse and something in it made a warmth that was not unlike the feel of the fire whisky sinking down deep inside of her.

  "What?" she breathed out.

  His dark eyes flitted to hers for a moment and she saw him studying her, as if he was trying to make sure he heard her correctly. Then the smirk came back and he pulled her close to him until his lips were against her ear. She felt his hand move over her hip and down her leg to the edge of her long skirt. She had always asked Madame Malkin to leave a few extra inches at the hem, but Malfoy's torturously slow movement now made her wish that she had cast a shrinking charm on them like some girls did.

  "Maybe I shouldn't tell you," he teased and slid his fingers under the hem of her skirt. They started their ascent up her thigh. "You're such a good little girl, after all, maybe it would be too much for you." They trailed over her inner thigh and she knew he could feel her trembling. "So soft, so sweet..." He dropped his lips to her neck and brushed them against the sensitive skin. "So warm." 

  Hermione tensed in his grasp, waiting, anticipating his touch.

  His fingers slid against her knickers and she gasped loudly making Malfoy chuckle again. "So wet for me." His lips latched onto her neck, sucking at the skin there and a small moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. He brushed his lips back over the shell of her ear. "My little Gryffindor kitten." He breathed out into it and rubbed his fingers against her.

  Hermione felt another moan coming up and did her best to swallow it, but Malfoy had her head pulled back and to the side, exposing her neck and it slid out before she could stop it as his lips moved down the skin there, leaving scorching kisses and harsh nips. He parted her legs wider and then slid his hand into her knickers, not giving her any time to conjure the thought to close them back.

  "F@ck, I love your p@ssy," he murmured into her skin as he explored her. Hermione was enraptured, unable to do anything but dig her nails into his shoulders tighter as he swirled his fingers over her, rubbing them back and forth. She lifted her hips a little, meeting his movements, her body begging for more, more, more.

  "Eager little thing, aren't you?" He smirked against the skin of her neck. She was on fire. Her body was alight with arousal and she wanted, no 
  
    needed, 
  
  Malfoy to touch her. To give her what he had before. She felt his hand move and then he slid a finger inside of her as she let out a low moan in response. He pumped it slowly, in and out of her a few times as she clung onto his shoulder, feeling the muscle move under the shirt.

  He was not bulky, instead Malfoy was built like a Seeker, but he was still much larger than Hermione was. He might have lost his position on the team, but he hadn't lost the physique that the hours he had put into practice had given him. She wanted to feel it, wanted to explore his body with her hands. The dips and lines of his muscles and the way his skin stretched over them. She struggled with the top button on his shirt and popped it open, fingers quickly moving to the next when Malfoy abruptly pulled back and stared at her with granite grey eyes.

  "What are you doing?" he asked and stilled his movement between her legs.

  Hermione stopped and felt the heat of embarrassment replace the heat of desire. "I... I wanted to—" she swallowed. "Can I... touch you?" Why was she so embarrassed to ask this?

  After everything they had done already? Was that too intimate for them? Did Malfoy not want her to?

  His dark eyes were troubled but slowly he nodded. "You can open it, but don't take it off," he said with a warning in his voice and loosened his hold on her hair ever so slightly. Hermione's fingers gradually began to work on the second button and she felt him begin to move back into her. She got the next two done then ran her hands back up over the soft fabric and pushed it off the top of his shoulders.

  She knew she was staring as she watched the muscles move and contract with his movements, but found herself unable to look away. Her fingertips moved over the surprisingly cool skin, pale under the dim blue lights surrounding them. Her hands spread across his chest and Malfoy took in a deep breath, filling his lungs and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, locking onto hers, and speeding up his movement.

  Hermione's mouth was open and she wanted to taste him; his lips first and then his skin but Malfoy pulled his hand from her and grabbed her shirt, ripping the top few buttons off as he pulled it open with a growl and then dove down onto her flesh, sucking, licking, and biting at everything he could reach at the same time pushing her legs back open and pulling down her knickers to her knees before diving back in her with two fingers this time.

  "F@ck@ng hell, you're even tight on my 
  
    fingers," 
  
  he groaned as he brought his mouth back up to her neck and pulling her head back to the side and tightening his grip on her hair. "F@ck@ng perfect, you are," he murmured and Hermione wasn't sure if that was something he had meant to say out loud or not.

  His teeth were digging into her skin hard enough to hurt, hard enough to feel good. Right when she thought she was going to cry out he would replace them with his lips, sucking and kissing at the tender spots he created. His thumb glided across her and she shifted slightly on his lap to give him better access to the bud of nerves that she desperately wanted him to touch.

  As she did she felt his hard on against her hip and let out a small whimpering cry, knowing that she caused it and wondering if he was planning on replacing his fingers with it. His hands were wonderful, but the feeling of him filling her, the pleasurable pressure was calling to her.

  "Malfoy..." she moaned softly as he bit down on the skin over her collarbone.

  He grazed his teeth over it again before kissing it and sucking on it for a moment. "No, kitten," he corrected in a deep tone. "I told you—
  
    my 
  
  name."

  Hermione's eyes opened for a moment and she looked up at one of the floating blue candles. Then he ran his thumb over her cl@t and she lost her breath. He did it again and her hips bucked up, trying to elongate the sensation. On the third time she moaned out, "Draco!" loud enough for it to echo down the narrow aisle.

  "As much as I want you screaming for me, I don't fancy Flich getting a view of what's between your thighs," he chuckled and Hermione gasped, bringing her legs together with his hand still buried inside them. He flicked his thumb over her again and she gripped onto his shoulder and chest tightly. "Because it's all for me. You're all for me," he whispered into her ear, sending a shiver through her body.

  He dipped his head back down into the crook of her neck and drug his lips over her shoulder, opening his mouth and letting his tongue dance across her skin. He bit down the soft skin of her shoulder and Hermione wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, running it up into his hair again. Malfoy groaned and latched on harder as Hermione clenched around his fingers. She was close.

  He pushed his fingers into her faster, harder, deeper and bit down on her skin with the same force. Hermione had only one sip of the fire whisky but felt drunk off of Malfoy and what he was doing to her. She moved her hips back and forth with him and against his groin, resulting in a low growl from deep in his chest that was released onto the spot on her shoulder he had latched onto with his teeth, sinking them in harder, further.

  "Draco," she moaned. "Draco—"

  The growl intensified as did his fingers and his teeth. It hurt. Pain shot through her shoulder as Draco—No, 
  
    Malfoy 
  
  swiped his tongue over the patch of skin he was holding in between his jaws. It hurt, but it felt good.

  Were they alike?

  She cried out as her @rg@sm bloomed up from in between her legs, taking over every inch of her body and silencing the questions brewing in her brain. Malfoy did not relent. He kept the same forceful pace and did not let go of the soft skin between her shoulder and neck. The pain mixed with the pleasure and Hermione found herself shaking, clinging onto Malfoy desperately as she came undone in his arms. After... well she didn't know how long because time might have stopped for a moment there, Hermione came back down and felt the last few tremors pass through her as Malfoy, not Draco, Malfoy finally slowed his movements.

  "I'm going to have to get you a gag, pet," he laughed a little and leaned in to kiss her. Hermione pushed against his chest and blinked as his hand fell from her hair to caress her cheek softly. Was she seeing things? What was on his mouth? There was a dark smear around his lips and…

  "Oh my God!" Hermione gasped and then felt the deep aching pain where her shoulder met her neck. "You bit me!"

  "Well, yeah," Malfoy said as if it was something obvious.

  "No, I mean you—" Hermione reached up to the base of her neck and touched it gently before holding up her fingers. They were covered with the same dark smudge as Draco-
  
    Malfoy's 
  
  lips. Up close she could see it was—"Blood!"

  "What? It's not the first time I made you bleed." Malfoy rolled his eyes and leaned into her again. 

  Hermione shoved her hand back against his chest.

  "What are you talking about?"

  Malfoy stared at her with a curious expression on his face, eyes dark and playful. "Granger, I took your virginity. I was covered in your blood."

  Hermione was mortified. She hadn't even thought about it that night. Malfoy had cleaned everything up so quickly after she hadn't even seen anything.

  "I don't care, in fact, it was kind of hot," he admitted with a small shrug.

  None of this made sense. He hated her because she was Muggleborn and disgusted by her supposed 'dirty blood' but he had just called her virgin's blood hot?

  "Makes you mine."

  Hermione's mouth fell open and she looked deeply into those large black pupils that had expanded in the darkness of the Restricted Section. Dark thoughts and emotions swam behind them, but the one that surfaced was possession.

  She didn't know what to say. Was he just drunk or did he actually think that? And what did 
  
    she 
  
  think of that?

  "Now," he flashed her a devilish grin, "I'm going to give you what you've been missing, my little Mudblood." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. They were wet and warm and Hermione didn't like the strange squirming she felt inside her, even if it did make her mouth twitch in an almost excited smile. She wanted to think about all of this, process it and that was impossible when Malfoy was looking at her like... like she'd always wanted to be looked at. 

  Oh wow, maybe she 
  
    was 
  
  like him.

  His tie had fallen over his shoulder when she pushed his shirt back and he pulled it slowly over him, making the dark green shimmer like the scales of a snake as he gathered it up and held it out.

  "Trust me?" He cocked his head and lifted an eyebrow. Hermione was frozen in place. The hand that had been in between her legs slowly reached up and pulled on her wrists gathering them as the grin spread over Malfoy's face. He was going to bind her, restrain her. Make her his.

  "I could 
  
    never 
  
  trust you."

  He might have been drunk, but she knew by the fall of his face that he remembered the words she spoke to him before. His expression changed quickly, dismay and bitterness battling for all but a moment before the cruel gleam she knew so well shone clearly in his silver eyes.

  "But you can spread your f@ck@ng legs for me anytime I even 
  
    look 
  
  in your direction," Malfoy snapped, all the playfulness gone from him like someone snuffing out the flame of a candle. "Mudblood wh@r@."

  Hermione shoved herself back from him. He was quick, but the fire whisky had slowed him just enough so that when he reached for her, his outstretched hand only landed on the white cotton knickers around her knees and Hermione quickly slid out of them, backing against the opposite side of the aisle and using the shelves there to push herself to her feet.

  Malfoy glared up at her, malice and hostility clear on his face. It was hard to believe that this was the same person who had just held her in his arms while she shook with the pleasure he gave her. Why had she even come looking for him? Why had she expected to find? Why was she even doing 
  
    any 
  
  of this in the first place?

  Malfoy was trying to get to his feet, her knickers clutched tightly in his white fist. Hermione took a few steps back from him, bringing her hand up to the wound he had left on the base of her neck.

  "Get back over here," he said in that low commanding voice. 

  Hermione shook her head silently. She was backing down the narrow aisle, praying that the growing lump in her throat and the hot pr@ck of tears would hold off for just a few more moments. She didn't want to cry. She wouldn't let him make her cry. 

  "You can't leave me... like this," Malfoy said roughly as he pulled himself up using the shelves just as she had, knocking a few books to the ground in his clumsy attempt.

  Hermione turned and glanced over her shoulder as she heard him get to his feet, stumbling forward. She quickened her pace, making it to the end of the aisle. 

  "Get your ass back over here!" he roared.

  Hermione did not turn back. 

  
  

  
  

    
      
        
        
          Thank you so much to everyone who commented; it means so much to me. So much. You don't even know.  I love hearing your feedback!xx, Ik'
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