Once again I let my readers know that I do NOT follow the sequence of events nor do I care to merge my stories into the excellent books--I base my stories off of the movies, not the books anyway, and use the characters as I see fit. I apologize if they do not seem "in" character to you, by my standards they are very much in character and act accordingly. If I upset anyone, I would say that I'm sorry, but most likely I'll just tell you to go read another story that suits you better, because I know what I like and that's what I write.
'Beg.'
That little whore!
Draco spent days fuming over the unexpected turn of events which had somehow placed Hermione Mudblood Granger back on her snobbish pedestal. No one remarked upon it, his temper being volatile at the best of times, and he found brief amusement in making Pansy run sobbing from the Slytherin common room—but it always came back to Granger. Somehow she always managed to come out on top, landing on her feet like a bloody cat.
On the third day he decided that two could play this game and deliberately sought her out, knowing where she was most likely to be.
He was very nearly to her usual study-table in the library when he heard her voice, raking down his nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard and causing him to imagine all sorts of horrors for her the next time he got her alone. Especially since she was at the very same table he'd had her so thoroughly on just days ago.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Ronald! It isn't as if the two of you have so much as stepped foot in here for weeks!" she was saying, and Draco sidled up to the nearest shelf, peering at the trio through the books with a smirk on his face.
Chamber-pot looked blankly agitated behind his enormous glasses, as usual, and the Weasel looked slightly perplexed.
"Honestly, Ronald, just sit down!" Hermione said, exasperated, already primly seated with her books spread out over the table.
Potter sat immediately, no dummy where Granger was concerned and with little enough backbone as it was.
"Hang on," Weasley said, brows drawn. "I can't even pull the chair out, Hermione! The table…it's moved or something."
Draco stifled startled, gleeful laughter as Granger flushed brick red.
"Nonsense!" she announced. "Sit over here, then, I want to get started on my essay."
"I don't want to sit over there, thank you very much," Weasley said, finally showing some spine, albeit to a girl. "Lend us a hand, Harry."
Like a jack-in-the-box Potter popped back up, helping the Weasel shove the table back where it had started from, both of them pushing with effort and very slow results.
Draco stifled another snigger and Granger giggled aloud, then covered her mouth with her hand, eyes huge.
"What's so bloody funny, then?" Weasley demanded, giving a final shove that settled the table back in place.
"Nothing," Granger said, trying to cover her mirth and looking both flustered and fairly caught-out. "It just took both of you to move the table, is all—I didn't think it was that heavy."
"Yeah," Weasley said, and dropped sullenly into the seat he wanted while Potty sat across from him and silently opened his books, clearly distracted by other matters.
Draco slipped out from behind the bookshelf, tote slung negligently over one shoulder, and approached the table, saying slyly, "Moving furniture again, are you, Granger? Becoming habit with you, isn't it?"
"What?" Weasley asked, suspicious as Hermione flushed even darker, clearly unnerved. "Shove off, Malfoy—leave her alone."
"Relax, I haven't done anything to your little girlfriend, Weaselby," Draco said, favoring him with a condescending smirk. Cutting his glance back at Granger, who had just become marvelously pale, he murmured, "At least nothing that shouldn't have been done ages ago."
"Did you want something, Malfoy? Or have you run out of small animals to torture," Harry said, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
"She's not my girlfriend," Weasley muttered, flipping the pages of his book without even glancing at them.
Hermione shot Ron a withering look before resolutely turning her eyes up to Draco, her face a study in serenity.
"What do you mean, Potter?" Draco asked with a vicious smile. "I've found three small animals right here, haven't I?"
"Stop it, all of you!" Hermione said, the voice of reason as always, taking a steadying breath while the three boys glared at one another. She nodded a little to herself and said, "I'm sure that Draco is here for a good reason, Harry, he doesn't exactly relish our company. Is there something I can do for you, Malfoy?"
She sounded like a store clerk, and her face was just as impersonal.
"You know what!" he tightly whispered, resisting the urge to yank her from the chair and shake her until her teeth rattled.
"I want to know what," Ron piped in, while Harry merely looked wary.
"It isn't your business, Ronald," Hermione said, and looked back up at Draco. With a stiff, cool smile she said, "I'm really very sorry, Draco, but I wouldn't toss you a life preserver if you were drowning."
Her eyes narrowing, she flipped roughly through her book and spat with a mutinous glare, "Even if you begged."
Draco snarled at her, lips curling back from white, sharp teeth, his grey eyes like flint. His hands tightened on his tote-strap, knuckles bloodless with force. He slammed one hand down on the table right in front of her, making her jump, and leaned close to hiss into her startled face, "We'll see about this, Granger. Just you wait. When it comes again—and it will—you're going to seriously regret this little show of force."
"I seriously doubt that," she said, but her voice was unsteady and he saw the dark, secret desire stir in her eyes. He smirked to see it, knowing now that she wasn't entirely unaffected by him. In a pleading, strained whisper she said, "Please go!"
"What's going on here?!" Weasley asked, only just starting to grow truly suspicious. "When what 'comes again'?"
"Are we playing games, now, Granger?" Draco lowly asked, his voice silky-soft and cruel. Like his father, the more dangerous he became, the softer his tone and the more mild his voice was. "Because the only game we'll play together is mine."
"Please just go!" she whispered, her eyes imploring, rapidly loosing control of the situation with both of her closest friends taking notice.
Draco quirked one eyebrow at her and straightened with a smirk, satisfied that he'd gotten his point across and had managed to shred her nerves—her hands trembled when they rested on her book and her pulse jumped in her throat so that even Weasley noticed it.
With a final, grim, grin, Draco Malfoy slowly sauntered off and whispered so that only Hermione would clearly hear him.
"We'll play my game then, Granger."
