Yeah, hi all. So this is my new one. It'll probably be more favored by me than the last.
This fanfic features the very sexy and evil Draco Malfoy and an original character. I've been playing with this idea for awhile and while in the bath the other day I finally decided I was going to do it, it being a failure of not. So off we go, people!
Disclaimer-I own nothing but the pack of cigs it took to write this. And guess what? Theres still eight left! I did good! I think I'm cutting back..... .
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I've gone through my life so far as a distant problem maker. I observe, I plan, I destroy. People could very easily call me spoiled, hell even I would call me spoiled. I want something, I get it. Whether its the latest broom, a new robe or other articles of clothing, a person for a meaningless night of lies in my bed, it doesn't matter. I always got it all, one way or the other. All these things were given to me for various shallow reasons: to be on my good side, because I asked daddy and daddy never says no, or to be added to my list of people that have had the honor of me driving myself into them. Thoughtless acts that I've always enjoyed, but never really relished, let alone needed.
I've needed very few things in my life. I always need someone to hate, it's a sense of power. But more than that, still, it's a sense of feeling. I don't have very many of those, but the few I have I master, and perfect them untill they are no longer a skill, but an art form. I'm very adapt at hating Potter and that little red-headed lacky of his. Very adapt indeed. On very rare occasions, I'll need a sort of intimacy that comes from entwinning my body with a person, but never getting involved with the emotions they might think they feel afterwards. Never did I really care. They'd cry, call me an assortment of names, accuse me of the most dreadful things that at the time I never found myself guilty of.
Never did I ever need love.
Hermione Granger was just another conquest that I seeked. She was intelligent, if a little annoying. Beautiful...stunning actually. She had the body of a venus, the sensous lips of a temptress. Her hair was soft from any distance. Perfection of the body. If there was a god, surely he prided himself on his work with her. In creating her. Boys craved her, made fools of themselfs for a glance from her. But most of all, She gave all her attention to Potter, and Weasly. In fact, as it was well known, she was in love with Potter on some level, whatever it may be. And he certainly was quite taken with her.
So I decided, one day alone in the mansion I inhabited with my parents, to take that. Sure, she was smarter then the rest and would certainly provide some challenge. But no one could resist that. I knew that fact well. She'd give herself to me, in the end, out of the sheer lust any hot blooded human felt. She was, after all, a girl. Girls have needs. I'd just have to play the part, to give her what she wanted.
I was, after all, an actor when it can down to it. The actor from hell.
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It was a gloomy day in September, when I stepped off the train onto Hogwarts soil. The tree's seemed lonely, dull in comparison to what they had always looked like. The sky hung low over my head, the clouds thick, a dark grey that warned of a soon to be storm. The grass was still rich and springy, but it seemed less lively. The birds did not sing as much, the creatures in the forest not as loud. Even the lulling sound of the lack was meager and blank.
Despite this, I felt relatively wonderful. I had it all planned out. In fact, I could see the little brood now, laughing with Potter and Weasley. Her hair was swept back in a pony tail, little curls falling about her tan face. Her eyes, though to so far away, twinkled with mirth. Her body swayed provocatively as she began walking. The wind blew her robes close to her right side, outlining her already alluring figure even more. I wanted her. Licking my lips I headed off to my own carriage, stepping in and taking a seat next to Blaise. We were in our 6th year and proud.
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There she was, alone in the library, writing up an essay. Three weeks into the year and I had only managed to get this chance to get her alone. Big, old books, that had their own strange scent. Partchment was spread out before her, covered in her neat, precise, handwritting. I've seen scholars with worse handwriting than hers. Her quill was in her hand and she was rapidly writing, her back straight, as it always was. She peered at her essay through her eyelashes, her pretty eyes almost hidden but not quite. Those long curling eyelashes....
"Hermione?" I stood far enough from her that I was not invading her personal space, but close enough to be in her close vicinity. She looked up, startled, but not giving any slightest hint of being afraid of me. Instead, in her eyes, I found resentment, a burning hatred. She cocked a thin eyebrow at me and pursed her lips.
I gave her my best harmless smile and held up my hands in the pretense of defeat. "No need to shoot daggers at me. I just have a few questions about the potions essay we've been assigned."
"Your Snapes pet, go ask him." She returned her attention to her paper without a second glance at me. Redipping her quill into the black ink, she returned to writing.
"Hey, I just have a few questions. Then I'll be out of here, I promise." I put my hands on my hips, frowning slightly in a way that would make her think I was hurt. I cocked my head and pretended to pout. "Seriously, no ulterior motives or anything. I just wasn't paying attention in class and no one I know but Blaise, took notes. I checked. I asked Blaise but he misplaced his." I bent to the side to be within her eyesight. "So what do you say?"
She threw down her quill in frustration and looked up at me once more. "Look, there are three very good reasons why I shouldn't help you. One: I'm fed up with my own homework, why the hell should I help you? Two: I dislike you with a flipping passion. Three: You always have ulterior motives. So, to sum that up, why the hell should I help you, again?" She crossed her arms infront of her, under her large breasts, pushing them up. I had to fight to keep my attention from those lovely pair of womanly attributes.
"Because I asked and you are a prefect." I grinned at her, my voice playful but not teasing.
I watched as the corner of her lips twitched and she gave a heavy sigh. "Sit down. I don't have the patience to argue anymore. But if you begin to annoy me, your outta here, ok?"
"Agreed!" Sitting down across from her, I plopped my hands on the table folded before us. I smiled at her once more in a careless way.
My questions came and went, and I did my best to make sure there was as much undetected side talk as possible. We discussed things like the teachers policies on certain things, people, the minister of magic, politics in general. A few times I would catch her smiling at something I had said, or laughing at a joke. But as soon as she reliezed she was doing it, she quickly went back to helping me with my potions essay. Like I really needed help, I asked questions about little things I pretended not to understand and made jokes of my own stupidity.
Why was this easier than I thought it was going to be? I didn't understand but I wasn't complaining. I was slowly but surely crossing her barriers. And I was actually enjoying myself.
"So was that all you needed help with?" She had her head resting on her hands now, her elbows propped up on the table. Her quill was sitting forgotten in her ink container, her parchment pushed aside. Her smile was genuine, alluring. I wondered if she'd have the same smile after I got her in bed.
"Yeah, thats about all, I think. Thank you, Hermione. I wasn't sure if you'd help, but I had to ask. Failing is not exactly an option." Smiling, I leaned back and stretched my arms, reaching above my head casually. I watched through my seemingly closed eyes as her gaze swept down my chest, desire flickering through them. I held back my grin, chuckling inside. She wanted me. Returning to my ormer position, I grinned. "I actually had fun. We should do this again sometime."
"Harry and Ron wont be thrilled." She put her hands in her lap and stared at them, her disapointment obvious.
"So don't tell them. We'll make it a secret. I think we're about the only two people in this school who have the intelligence we pocess, so we might as well help each other." I rested my chin in the palm of one of my hands, the other lying limp a my side.
Looking up with a coy, devious little smile, she nodded. "Ok. Sounds like a plan..."
"Next wednesday after dinner. Your two friends have practice, and I, frankly, have nothing else to do and wont be missed." I knew very well she was free and would be here anyways. I had watched and studied her enough to know that. I did have plans on wednesday, but I could make other arrangements. Nothing large, just rescheduling somethings of no paticulare importance.
She returned her gaze to her hands then nodded, looking up at me shyly. "Ok, I can do that. Seeya then."
I smiled at her, standing up and stretching once more for effect. The more she desired me, the easier it would be. "Yes. I'll see you then." I strode off, smiling to myself. Women were all the same. No real intelligence when it came to people. They thought with their hormones, each one of them. They were not possible of love. Look how easily she agreed to this small betrayel of her lifetime love, Potter? Just like his mother. All of them easily manipulated and used. Never to be trusted. Betraying, lying, little cats.
Easy.
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Our meetings went on for sometime, every wednesday, laughing and joking. Arguing and contemplating. I found myself actually coming to regard her as a friend. Someone worth conversing with, worth my time of day. She was still a woman, not to be trusted. But she was interesting. I couldn't confide in her, but never had I been able to do that. Perhaps I would make it more than a simple night between us. A relationship between I, Potters enemy, and his little love, would certainly be the ultimate betrayal. I could easily see myself spending some time with her. She was still annoying, but all women were. Nothing new or suprising there.
I would sit and ask questions, giving her the feeling of having a more intuitive mind than my own, she would ask questions that I knew they answer to but would come to it with her, pretending to struggle with through it with her.
I don't even know when it happened but...I fell in love with her on a strange new level. I began thinking of her more than necassary, dreading the hurt I would cause her. But I would still do it. My vicous nature was more abundent then this new caring feeling. She was still my pawn, I still tricked her. I wasn't ashamed of that in the least. I didn't regret doing it. I just found myself feeling reluctant to hurt her. Yes, she was still a woman, still never to be trusted...but I found myself doing just that. I confided little bits of my life at home with her, some of the pain I felt. And she would sit, tears in her eyes, as she reached out and took my hand. Never had a human touch ever meant something to me like that.
She'd talk of her own life, her distant parents, her problems with Potter and Weasley. Our meetings became times when, though we would be prepared to do work, none would happen. We would sit and talk with each other, about ourselfs. I was still a bit fake, but more and more I was just me, Draco Malfoy. And each time I would bear more of myself to her, my true self that no one had ever seen, she would become thoughtful, caring. When I had once found her to be annoying, I now found her chamring. She opened new horizons to me in thought, in myself, that I never dreamt existed. She would drew closer to me each day, telling me more and more, loosening up to me little by little.
We were friendlier to each other in the halls, stopping to chat, as Potter and Weasley would glare at the both of us. Only Blaise would ask me why I was talking to her, but her always respected that. I think he could see it. My need of her. My love for her. We'd spend long hours alone, late at night, talking about how we felt. He was in love with some Hufflepuff boy whom returned the feelings with the utmost passion, and I would talk about the way the light shone on her hair.
We'd spend time together at Hogsmeade each weekend, drinking in each others presense. We'd drink butterbeer and laugh merrily. I could hug her infront of all our peers and she would hug back. We'd window shop, eventually hand in hand, discussing so and so's new book, how it was such a let down, or how wonderful it was. She'd even tolerate my talking of the latest broom. I'd buy her little trinkets that caught her eye or reminded me of her. A book or two, a necklace, a ring. All increasingly expensive. She'd see a shirt that caught her fancy and pause a second to look at it, never saying a word, then be ready to continue on. I'd go back later and buy it for her in the size I guessed was hers. She'd blush and thank me when I handed it to her, and the next weekend she put it on and we'd set off.
I loved watching her laugh, the way her eyes lit up. Her smile seemed to be all I loved for, her touch I craved. Her hair seemed more and more luxorious each passing day, her beauty only becoming more and more radiant. I'd find myself dreaming of her at night, waking early in the morning having to take a cold shower. I took extra care in my appearance than usual, wanting to look my best solely on the chance I'd see her. And I always saw her. Even when she wasn't anywhere near me, I'd see her. In the fall of a leaf, she'd be there, in a statement in a book, her presense would filter in. I gave up my plans, knowing that I could never bear to cause her that, let alone any, sorrow.
We began to meet in secret at night, my doing. It was simple at first, almost innocent. We'd talk, and kiss. Her taste I would take to bed with me, the exotic taste that was hers along. Her fragrance would be in my clothes, smelling sweetly of vanilla. She was a drug that I couldn't seemt o get enough of. Each night, we'd get a little farther, a touch of her breasts against my hands, her hands running up my thigh. Then one night we abandoned all our morals and made love far into the night. Lying on our clothes, we explored each others bodies. Passion swam in my veins, my logic escaping with the ascending of my need. I'd run my fingers through her hair, pulling her close so I could rub my face on it, so I could take in the sweet smell of it. She writhed under me as I took her virginity, yelping a little in pain. I had never before felt so guilty of taking a girls innocence. As long as my control held up, I made it as sweet for her as I could. Her hands bit at my back, her fingernails scratching me. At climax I cried out as she did, my arms wrapping tight around her.
It never crossed our minds to use protection.
We were closer than ever the following months, openly kissing each other in the hall. She no longer felt ashamed. She no longer wanted to hide it. And I couldn't get enough of her. We'd meet late at night several times during the week. I never got bored and she never failed to show her desire for me.
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"Draco?" Her voice was soft and sweet as she trailed her fingers up and down my chest in little swirls. Her head was resting on the crook of my arm and I played with her hair lovingly. We laid there bare to the cold sky, but not feeling the chill.
"Yeah?"
She looked up at me with thoughtful eyes, her hands stopping their caress'. "I...I have something to tell you. A couple of things, actually."
"Ok then." I continued playing with her hair, my eyes lazily resting on hers. She rose to her knee's, looking down at me visibly nervous. Pushing back her hair, she looked straight into my eyes and muttered words that had caused more joy and grief than I had ever felt before.
"I'm pregnant."
I shot up, immediatly bck to my senses. I felt my jaw drop and I stared at her. "Your pregnant?!"
"Yeah. I checked with Madame Pomphrey two days ago." She looked down, seeming to be ashamed of herself. I reached out and drew her to me fiercely.
"Oh Hermione...." I felt her shake against my chest and I cursed myself for my stupidity. Her tears wet my chest, and I buried my face into her hair.
"I'm keeping it, ok? I'm not giving it up!" She looked up at me, her eyes desperate and pleading, but firm. I nodded mutely and smiled down at her.
"We're going to have a baby, Hermione. A baby of our own. I would never ask you to give it up."
She smile that made my knee's weak, and nodded. "I'm glad we settled that."
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Needless to say, I didn't get to be a father. She lost it only a few months later. Apparently the result of being pushed down a flight of stairs by a girl I had once had sexual relations with. Jealous bitch. Hermione didn't notice it untill she got up and walked to he dorm. Apparently she collapsed in a heap of pain and Potter carried her to the infirmiry as fast as she would.
I ran to infirmiry as fast as I could upon hearing the news. We had told everyone in our blind happiness. Potter threw a fit and wouldn't speak to her, Weasley just broke out in a blind rage and stormed off. But we continued to make plans. Continued to discuss names. How we would raise it. Who's looks it would have. When I saw her lying in the infirmiry, I broke out into open sobs at the sheer dead look in her eyes. She was so pale, so small. Madame Pomphrey tried to keep me from her, grabbing my arm to keep me from seeing the full effect of her empty eyes.
Pushing past her, I strode to Hermione, my beloved, and sat down on the bed gently, taking her hand in my own. "Hermione?" She didn't seem to hear me, instead she kept looking foreward blankly. The eyes that only the day before shown with joy and life, now seemed dead to even me. "Hermione, answer me. It's me, Draco."
At the sounds of my name she broke out into hysterics, clawing at me, and crying bitterly. "I hate you! You put me through this! This is your fault!! Get away from me! I never want to see you again!" I tried to hold her arms down, to talk to her rationally, but she kept hitting me, crying out bitter and hateful things. Tears ran down her sunken cheeks as she screamed at me.
"'Mione, I'll come back after you've had some rest." I held her down long enough for me to place the tenderest of kissed upon her forehead. Looking her straight in the eyes I spoke the words I had said so often to her, only to her. "I love you." I turned and left
She wouldn't see me the next day, or the day after. When she finally recovered enough to go back to her classes, she wouldn't look at me, wouldn't talk to me. She was now cold and distant, to eveyone but Potter and his red-headed companion. So many times when she broke into tears I tried to go to her, to comfort her. And each time her friends would yell and scream at me, hitting me and insulting me. She wwould just sit in Potters arms and listen.
"Stay the hell away from her! She was insane to ever touch your dirty, filthy, molested body, you daddy fucking little prick!" I stopped dead. I didn't breath, didn't blink. Everyone was silent. She had told? How...how could she? I told her that in tears....she promised to never tell. But she did....she was the only one who knew. I looked at her and found her eyes on me, malicious and vindictive. A smile was upon her lips, a strange new glow about her. She ran a hand through he rhand, proud of herself and Potter grinned. I backed away from them slowly, all of them. Blaise looked at me with eyes full of concern, then looked at them in anger. He stood from his seat beside the Hufflepuff and made to advance upon that bastard Weasley. I held up my hand, smiling sadly and shaking my head.
I began to laugh to myself, then the shaky laughter grew to fill the room. I looked at the woman who had stolen my heart and gained my trust. "So this is your way, 'Mione? This is the way you play? Yes, I very well am to blame for our loss. Indirectly, of course, but all the same. This is only a small bit of revenge to make up for that. So go ahead, tell them everything. I loved you, Hermione, and I still very mush so do. You still consume my life, my soul. But know who won in the end, dear. It was not I who was cruel this time." I walked away from them, out of the class in a hurry. Blaise followed me, stopped me in a deserted hall. I turned on him and punched him square in the jaw, then let him hold me while I sobbed and sank with me to the floor. My tears were for my failure, for her betrayal. Suiting wasn't it? She betrayed the person who had meant to make her betray her friends. I didn't have to explain any of this to Blaise, he already knew it all. He shook with anger and grief. I shook with my sobs.
Perhaps it was me who lost that lively April.
But that was indeed my first love. I never in my wildest fantasies thought I'd ever feel love or trust a woman again, let alone get the chance. But the world works in mysterious ways.
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Ok thats the end of the first chapter. I'm already in love with this story. I'm sorry if theres a lot of spelling mistakes tha I missed but it's 4:19 in the morning and I haven't slept since the day before yesterday. Stupid insomnia. It came back to get me!
It will be a pairing between and original character and Malfoy. This was just a prelude or sorts. You needed to know all this in order to understand the rest. I'm sorry if it was rushed, the rest certainly won't be. Promise! I'll have a lot to build up. This was just letting you know of his past. So review, flame, whatever. I'm not afraid. But to you flamers, don't say you can't believe you wasted your time on this story because, guess what, if your reading this, you did. Who's pathetic now?
Oh! I am looking for someone to correct my story!! I can't do it on my computer and I just have no patience for doing it manualy. Ah, the wonders of technolodgy and how lazy they have let me become. Lovely lovely. Write me if your interested!
Thank you for reading!!