A/N: Hello and welcome to The Silver Dragon. I hope you enjoy the story. Much love! xx-Kitten.

The Silver Dragon

By Kittenshift17

PROLOGUE

She could honestly say she had no clue how she'd come to be there. Well… that wasn't entirely true. Hermione supposed it was more accurate to say she couldn't decide which precipitating factor was to blame for this lapse in judgement. It could have been that she'd consumed the equivalent of a bottle of Hodgen's Finest. It could have been that, for the first time since the war, she'd attended a function solo – arriving without a date. More importantly, she suspected it had entirely to do with the fact that Ron Weasley was an arse for having moved on enough to bring a date when she hadn't. Something she was expected to grin and bear without complaint or hysterics.

That, Hermione decided, was the biggest and most likely factor that had led to this most alarming circumstance. What other reason could she possibly have for wildly snogging Draco Malfoy in a cheap hotel room?

As the man in question stripped her out of the fancy dress she'd agonised over for hours – literally tearing the fabric in his haste – Hermione could honestly say that while she didn't entirely know how or why she'd come to be there in his arms with her fingers working rapidly on the buttons of his dress robes and the buckle on his belt, she didn't much care right at that moment. In fact, the blond git was doing a fine job of removing all cohesive thought from her mind as he trailed a line of hot kisses over her neck, chest and shoulders while his fingers made short work on the clasp of her bra, unsnapping it and dragging it from her lithe frame before flinging it away.

In a flurry of clothing and a frenzy of lips, hands and hot, willing bodies, they fell into bed with one another with all the passion of such a long-term hatred in one pure physical outlet. Hermione was much too far gone with alcohol consumption to care what Draco Malfoy might think of her body or the pathetic whining mewls he drew from her throat. As he laved her left nipple hotly before nipping her flesh, Hermione threw her head back, her fingers wandering the lithe and wiry muscle of his smooth back.

She hissed with encouraging delight as he freed her of her knickers, leaving her body bare for his hands to explore her flesh. Hermione arched into his touch as he smoothed drink-clumsy fingers through the inferno of wet heat at her core, driving two long digits inside her. Merlin, there was nothing like the feeling of him working her over with those dexterous hands.

Returning the favour, Hermione's fingers wandered his ribcage and abs in a slow path south. The strip of white-blond hair leading downward from his navel made a fine trail to follow until Hermione could wrap her hand around the rigid and ready appendage he'd been hiding inside his trousers.

"Bloody hell, Granger!" Hermione heard him groan contentedly around her nipple as she smoothed her hand up and down the enticing length of him. He responded to the caress with a curl of his fingers inside her, brushing over the spot that hit just right and had her melting into a puddle of neediness.

"Stop teasing!" Hermione whined when he did it again and again and again with just enough pressure to feel amazing but not so much as to send her over the edge.

"You want it?" he drawled arrogantly, lifting his mouth from her breasts to smirk at her wickedly. Hermione was much too drunk to allow that smug expression to rile her.

"Give it to me," she heard herself demand, her voice husky with need.

He leaned into her hotly, capturing her lips with his and Hermione sighed at the feel of his tongue slipping between her lips to stroke her own. Good Lord, but he was a delectable kisser. She protested a moment when he captured her wrist and dragged her hand away from her new favourite toy until she realised he meant to shag her into oblivion with it. Scooting up the bed far enough to do so comfortably, Hermione spread her legs a little wider, canting her hips and jolting slightly at the brush of the hot organ against her throbbing heat.

His hand tangled into her curls, unsettling her careful hairstyle before he slowly impaled her. Hermione groaned in delight. She loved it slow and deep on the initial penetration. It had always bothered her when she'd been with Ron that he would fumble about for a few minutes of foreplay – not really getting her wet enough for sex – before he would hurry to get himself inside her. Too many times in her twenty-four years Hermione had endured the sting and ache of having a man's cock rammed unforgivingly inside her before she was good and wet for it.

She could only groan with pleasure at the feel of Malfoy taking his sweet time about burying himself to the hilt – so deep inside her that Hermione swore she could taste him at the back of her throat. Her body worked to accommodate the unfamiliar girth and length of what Malfoy had down his trousers, practically singing with delight at the way it stretched so deliciously.

"Ah, fuck," Malfoy breathed as he broke their kiss to bury his face against the side of her neck, muttering sweet nothings as though he were in heaven. Hermione knew that she was. Goodness, but it had been too long since she'd shagged anyone. Rolling her hips under him, Hermione was rewarded with a nip to her neck and a slow withdrawal that left her feeling empty and needy all at once. She huffed out a small squeak when Malfoy drove back into her as hard as he could.

Merlin, she was already seeing stars.

She supposed it was safe to say that while self-control and rational thinking appeared to have gone out the window much earlier in the evening when she'd found herself drinking too much and flirting wickedly with an equally inebriated Draco Malfoy – they both lost it then. Hermione felt her mind completely shut off all thought; all rationalisation; all everything, but the feel of what he was doing to her and what she was doing to him.

He fucked her hard. There was no other word to describe what he did to her. He fucked her as brutally as she'd ever been shagged. This was much more than mere sex and as far from making love as one could get. Draco Malfoy fucked her like she'd stolen every Galleon in his Gringotts vault and then had the audacity to charge him for the privilege. He fucked her like she was his most loathed enemy and he was exacting revenge for every slight. He fucked her like he hated her.

And Hermione loved it.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

She woke in a tangle of limbs with an ache throughout every part of her, a pounding in her head, a terrible swirling nausea in her tummy and a stickiness between her legs. Stickiness and the unfamiliar hand of a man she couldn't see. Groaning softly, Hermione tried to make sense of her surroundings. She didn't recognise the gaudy red wallpaper or the cheap furniture of the room she slept in, and the pillow she'd cushioned her head upon smelled like sex, stale cigarette smoke and a certain mustiness.

"Where am I?" she whispered to herself, belatedly realising she was being spooned by a man who had an arm curled over her waist and nestled between her legs, possessively cupping her sex. The other hand was flung across the bed beneath her neck. His hand glinted slightly in the morning sunlight filtering through the haphazard curtains and Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to recall where she recognised the signet ring on his middle finger from.

She felt groggy and confused, her brain fuzzy with sleep and the tap-dancing elephants from hell. She was hungover and she thought she might be ill.

"More sleep," a male voice - husky with sleep - replied to her rhetorical question. Hermione groaned in agony when he – whoever he was - flexed his fingers against her abused twat, one fingertip penetrating her slit the slightest bit and making it sting. She squirmed uncomfortably, huffing when she realised the uncomfortable pressure she'd felt prodding near her behind was apparently an erect penis nestled between her rear cheeks.

"Oh, Merlin! Who?" she moaned to herself.

The sound of being shushed followed her question and Hermione supposed then that she really ought to have known the answer. Who else could be so arrogant as to shush her whilst she was in the middle of having a mental breakdown?

"What have I done?" she asked of no one in particular.

"Are you going to keep talking?" the voice asked again and Hermione realised that whoever she was sleeping with had nestled his nose into the back of her neck – she could feel his hot breath ghosting over her naked shoulders.

Oh sweet Merlin, she knew that voice.

"MALFOY!" Hermione shouted. She turned in his grip and whimpered when her twisting somehow sent one of his fingers deep inside her abused nether passage.

"Urgh, no so loud!" he groaned. His eyes were still closed and a frown marred his brow as Hermione turned to discover that it was, in fact, Draco Malfoy spooned around her and fingering her. Malfoy that she'd…. oh Merlin!

She'd fucked him. The fuzzy, disjointed memories of the previous evening were coming back, fighting past the dancing elephants that were making her head ache to resurface and fill her with horror.

"No! No, this can't be happening! Malfoy? Sodding Malfoy?" Hermione began to panic, taking in the sight of his swollen lips, his sex-mussed hair and the purple love-bite marring his alabaster throat.

"Must you continue to be so loud?" he asked without opening his eyes. He was beginning to sound very annoyed.

"Malfoy, open your eyes," Hermione commanded sternly.

His frown deepened before he did as instructed, his finger twitching inside her again and making her squirm uncomfortably with how it smarted a bit whilst spurring pleasurable twinges she couldn't handle right then. His silver eyes blinked open slowly; reluctantly; as though he really didn't want to look.

And he jerked back from her in shock as those eyes widened when he realised it was her.

"Fuck! Granger?" he growled. He stared at her in utter horror.

"You see why I'm being loud?" she snapped. She fished his hand out of her twat and shoved the appendage back towards him. She also tried very hard to ignore the sight of several more love-bites littering his pale body. She tried even harder to ignore the tent he was making under the sheets even as he stared at her.

"What the fuck am I doing in bed with you?" Malfoy demanded. He looked groggier than Hermione felt. "Oh bloody, fuck! I shagged you last night? Seriously? You? Hermione sodding Granger?"

"Apparently you did," Hermione growled. She was too furious and horrified with herself and this turn of events to be offended by his tone.

"FUCK!" he shouted, making Hermione's head ache terribly. "How much did I drink last night? Shit, how much did you drink?"

"Judging by the nausea and the headache, not to mention this unfortunate occurrence, I'm going to assume too bloody much," Hermione retorted.

Malfoy continued to curse while Hermione began to take stock of the room. Her dress lay in a tattered heap, hanging from the corner of the desk across the room. Her panties were on the bedsheets behind Malfoy, a crimson reminder of her nakedness. Her bra was dangling from the bedside lamp – which was lying on its side, precariously balanced on the bedside table. Hermione noticed with some horror that the bulb was broken. Malfoy's trousers were bunched on the floor and she could see his black silk boxers poking out from under the quilt they'd evidently kicked off during the night. The desk chair across the room that ought to have been behind the desk was sitting almost innocently in the middle of the room – the only evidence of its use displayed by the fact that the seat-cushion and the backrest were no longer properly attached, having been flattened like a recliner, a pathetic display of snapped chip-board and slumped fabric.

Malfoy's shirt hung from the top corner of the washroom door, his tie was dangling from the doorknob and his belt was looking particularly suspicious where it was buckled around the metal bedframe above Hermione's head. Horror filled her when she glanced at her own wrists, noticing purple bruising circling the slim appendages. She didn't know if she felt better or worse when she noted that Malfoy bore identical bruises like bracelets around his wrists.

"Oh…. My….." Hermione breathed, her attention dancing around the room as she took in the carnage of the evening.

"You've got…." Malfoy began, looking equally horrified.

Hermione squawked when she looked up and discovered there was a mirror on the ceiling. She flinched back from Malfoy as he reached slowly towards her and her eyes widened when she caught sight of purple bruising around her throat.

"What the…?" she trailed off, staring at her own bedraggled reflection and watching Malfoy reach for her throat slowly with both hands. Hermione gulped back vomit when he lightly wrapped his hands around her neck, matching the hand-shaped bruising to perfection. He'd sat up to do so and Hermione's attention was drawn to the expanse of his back in the mirror.

It was no longer smooth, unblemished and white. His entire back was littered with scratches and welts, some of them bloodied, as though she'd viciously clawed at him.

Malfoy was too busy wrapping both hands around her upper arms and fitting them to the bruises there as well. Her chest was dotted with stubble rash and love bites, her nipples beaded and slightly swollen. She was entirely too shocked by the aftermath of what they'd done to one another to even notice she was naked. After all, what did a little nakedness matter in the face of such carnage?

"Bloody hell," Malfoy said. His eyes lifted to clash with hers in the mirror on the ceiling. "What did I do to you?"

"Look at your back," Hermione whispered in return, still eyeing the ragged expanse of flesh. He looked like he'd been mauled by a big cat. Malfoy's eyes widened even further when he took in the bloodied mess that was his back.

"Fuck, Granger," he cursed. "You drew blood."

"I…" Hermione began, her tongue attempting to stumble over an apology before a sharp and deep-seated throb inside her stomach – low down on her abdomen – distracted her. Clutching at it and tearing her eyes off the ceiling, Hermione suddenly noticed that there was blood smeared on the bed sheets where the covers had fallen away from her naked form.

"You drew blood too…" she murmured, scooting back slightly to see that the white sheets were stained crimson with blood. She had a nasty feeling she knew where it had bled from too when her abused twat stung like all get out at the friction.

"Merlin… you weren't a virgin, were you?" Malfoy asked. He looked panicked when he noted her pained expression and the blood.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Not for years…. Which means you fucked me so hard you tore something."

"Shit," Malfoy cursed. He sighed as he ran a hand through his messy blond hair. "How the hell did this happen?"

"Alcohol," Hermione murmured. "Too much wine…. They were serving that elf-made wine at the Ministry function last night – some charity?"

"The War Orphans Charity Ball," Malfoy nodded. "Disgustingly richer as a result of my Mother and Father's generosity in two things. One hundred thousand galleons and elf-made wine from Italy, aged fifty years and served to all guests, all evening."

"It was tasty." Hermione recalled, frowning as she tried to piece together how she'd come to be in bed with Malfoy. "Too tasty."

"Mmm," Malfoy nodded. "Went down easy. And everyone had those terrible glasses that refilled every time they were drained. I have no clue how many I had…. How the hell did I end up with you?"

"Something about your mother…" Hermione recalled. "I remember you grumbling something about you mother…"

"That's right!" Malfoy snapped his fingers, his free hand scratching idly at his bare chest. "The barmy witch was trying to set me up with the youngest Greengrass girl. Again. Instigating ridiculous and embarrassing dances and the like… Why do I get the feeling your lapse in judgement had something to do with Weasley?"

"Oh," Hermione sighed out, her eyes widening as she flopped back down on the bed, clutching at her head. "I remember now…. Ron. Ron turned up with some new woman on his arm as his date. Kelly Hamster? Karen Tromple? ... I don't know… And I was furious because I didn't take a date out of respect for the recent break-up to avoid hurting his feelings…. I felt like an idiot…. Oh merlin, I was chugging down that wine like a seasoned boozer."

"Yeah, but how did we end up here?" Malfoy peered blearily vaguely around the room. "It's not as though you and I usually interact."

Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes closed to keep from having to see her reflection in the ceiling mirror.

"I seem to recall something about your mother trying to set up a date for you with Greengrass and you stomping off. And then seeing Ron snogging that little trollop he'd brought with him? Were you in the gardens? I think I went there so no one would see me crying…" Hermione whispered.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Malfoy exclaimed suddenly. "You ran by me. I was near the doors to the gardens, skulking in the corridor and thinking seriously about how best to rid the world of simpering bitches like the Greengrass women…. You ran by me, sobbing…"

"You followed me?" Hermione asked, her eyes opening slowly to fix on him.

"I… shit!" Malfoy sighed again. "I was pissed off and I distinctly remember thinking that the bitch my mother was trying to set me up with wouldn't want me anymore if I shagged a mudblood like you…. Fuck!"

"You took advantage of me in my vulnerable state," Hermione accused. "And entirely for your own ends!"

"Slytherin," Malfoy pointed to himself seriously, a little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Hermione was too hungover to care that he'd called her a mudblood. She'd long since gotten used to the word given that it was scarred into her forearm. "And anyway, you were willing enough. In fact, I'm pretty sure you instigated the bloody snogging. Something about muttering that Weasley could go to hell and that if he was snogging scum why shouldn't you?"

"Oooh," Hermione said. Her eyes widened as she recalled thinking just that. "That's right… But how did we get here? And where exactly is here?"

"It looks like a cheap hotel room," Malfoy pointed out the obvious.

"Well, obviously!" Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. She groaned at the way it made her head and her stomach spin painfully. "Oh Merlin, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Me too," Malfoy muttered. "What the bloody hell happened to that chair?"

Hermione looked towards the sad piece of furniture once more. It sagged pathetically.

"I think you bent me over it and the back gave way," Hermione admitted. A blush stained her cheeks. "I have to shower…"

She climbed out of bed, unable to locate anything decent enough to cover her naked form between the bed and the door.

"Shit, Granger!" Malfoy cursed suddenly, scooting across the bed and following her. Hermione stopped at the tone in his voice and peered back over her shoulder at him.

"What?" she asked, worried by his concerned frown.

"I think I…. you have welts and bruises on your arse like I might've… flogged you," he admitted. Hermione hissed when he dragged one finger over something painful on her left bum cheek.

"Do you suppose that was before or after we were each tied to the headboard?" Hermione asked as she continued into the bathroom.

"We… fuck!" Malfoy exclaimed. Hermione watched him cross back to the bed where she could hear him trying to undo his belt from the bedframe. Turning on the water in the shower and trying desperately not to throw up, Hermione waited for the water to warm enough to be pleasant before she stepped inside.

"Oh, Gods," she moaned as the water scalded down her back, both pleasant and painful as it hit the scratches and bruises on her skin.

"Shit, Granger, don't make that noise," Malfoy's husky voice came from the other side of the shower curtain before he stepped through it.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "You can't just climb into the shower with me, Malfoy."

"Witch, after everything we did to each other last night, do you think sharing a shower's going to make a difference?" Malfoy asked. He quirked one eyebrow at her even as he leaned into the spray of the shower.

Hermione supposed that he had a point. Not that she had to like it. She was currently too hungover and feeling entirely too wretched to put up much of a fight or analyse the repercussions of what they'd done. Hermione knew that later it was going to bite her in the arse. Merlin, for all she knew, Malfoy was going to bite her arse. Again.

"I hate you," she sighed before leaning into him under the spray, tucking her wet curls under his chin and leaning against his chest to better enjoy the hot water. Malfoy's reply was to chuckle darkly before his arms curled around her waist, pressing her more firmly against him.

She didn't know how long they stood there under the hot water, leaning against one another. Hermione felt like she could go right back to sleep. Her head ached horribly and she felt like she was going to be sick at any moment. Her whole body ached with the pain of abused muscles, not to mention the welts, bruises and scratches littering her skin.

When eventually the water ran cold, Hermione climbed out of Malfoy's embrace and out of the shower, dragging the scratchy hotel bath-towel against her skin to dry herself before wrapping it around herself tightly while Malfoy did the same. She felt mildly revived by the shower and some of her sense – along with her embarrassment – was returning.

Shuffling into the bedroom once more, Hermione left Malfoy in the bathroom. She located their wands shoved under one of the pillows on the bed. Using hers quickly, Hermione performed cleansing charms on her clothing, before transfiguring her fancy silk gown – which now had a large rip down one side, thanks to Malfoy – into a pair of jeans and a jumper before she pulled them on quickly.

"Erm…." Hermione muttered when Malfoy joined her, picking up his own wand as he dressed himself.

He glanced over at her, one eyebrow quirked.

"I erm… need you to perform a contraceptive charm," Hermione blurted, a blush staining her cheeks pink as she said so.

"Right… bloody hell," Malfoy said. He ran his hand through his damp hair as he strode towards her, his shirt hanging open and revealing his washboard abs. Hermione tensed when he lifted the hem of her jumper to expose her stomach before he muttered the charm. Hermione felt the spell sink into her flesh with a strange cooling sensation that made the ache in her abused uterus throb painfully.

"Thanks," Hermione whispered, lowering her jumper again when he was done.

"Don't mention it," he replied in a tone that made her think the mounting awkwardness wasn't just her imagination.

"Do I need to, erm… threaten you to keep this to yourself?" Hermione asked awkwardly. Unable to meet his gaze she stared at her fingers, toying with the hem of her jumper.

"I think it's safe to say I'm well aware we both have reputations to maintain, Granger," Malfoy replied evenly. "Both of which would suffer should this little… soiree… get out. Trust me, I'll be taking this to the grave."

Hermione nodded, sighing a little in relief.

"Ok good. I'll erm… I'm going to go… I'll… see you," Hermione stammered out uncomfortably, turning towards the exit and crossing over to the door. Her hand was on the doorknob when he called out to her.

"Granger?"

Hermione turned towards him slowly, daring to raise her eyes to his silver pair.

"This can never happen again," he warned quietly. He waved a hand between the two of them indicatively. Hermione nodded empathically in agreement, not daring to say a word lest she be terribly rude. Or vomit. Either was an option.

Spinning back to the door, Hermione opened it and slipped through it, regret churning with embarrassment and awkwardness inside her already queasy stomach. He was right. It could never happen again.

Hermione wondered why she had a terrible, sinking feeling inside to think that it still might.