A/N: Salazars-soul, this one's your fault, lol. Been wanting to write a story like this since before I even started the His Little Bird series because guess what came first. You asked me to write an incubus fic about a month ago? Maybe more? And even though I said I was busy my hands slipped and this came out when I should have been working on the sequel to Power and Control instead, but I needed that break lol. I hope you like it.

Part one of two. (As a reminder, this is NOT the sequel to Power and Control. This is something different.)

Don't read if you don't like dark Draco or rape in fics, or my stories in general because this is another disturbing one.

I don't own these characters. Harry Potter isn't mine. Not unless I sold my soul or something but I wouldn't do that to JKR because that's just rude and I consider her my pal though we've never met.

His heart was beating rapidly as he slipped into the room, locking the door silently behind him. He'd come prepared with a handful of powerful unlocking spells in case the room's security was stronger than he thought, but was surprised in the end when it opened immediately at his 'alohamora'. The room was misty and smelled of roses, and at once he spied her reclining against the sloping end of the grand tub, eyes closed and hair piled atop her head. Her arms were anchored over the sides of the tub to keep herself from sliding lower into the water; every now and then her fingers twitched in her sleep, curling into a soft fist, trying to grasp something he could not see.

It was lucky she'd fallen asleep before he'd entered-he'd planned to obliviate her when she saw him but this was much better. He'd come prepared for a struggle, but saw no danger now-his grip around his wand relaxed. Draco decided not to use a Silencing spell since she was already asleep. He would make sure she would not wake until he was gone from the room.

Feverish with anticipation, his eyes burned like quicksilver, they glowed eerily in the dimly lit Prefect's bath and if she'd been awake to see him she would have panicked, and definitely not for that reason alone. The stained glass windows shined dull and colorful with the early morning light; the mermaid depicted there stared at him coyly from behind her hair. Draco ignored her and walked closer to the sleeping girl in the tub.

Over the past few months he'd been fighting to resist the pull she had on him, but succumbed to it each time no matter how hard he struggled. It was unnatural in the way that the desire had appeared so suddenly and was immediately so intense it had shocked him greatly and he'd avoided her, furious and clueless to why this was happening.

She didn't realize it but she teased him daily in the smallest ways: the way she sat so ladylike in her seat, legs crossed so tight he often fantasized about prying them apart, often sat himself in just the right place that would allow him clear and perfect sight of her legs in case she uncrossed them. The way her skirt sometimes rode up her thighs so he'd have a glimpse of the skin her stockings didn't cover, the way her thick hair fell across her face and she'd brush it away impatiently, the particular way she held her mouth while reading. Once she'd sat near him during potions and he'd been absolutely mesmerized by the way the humidity of the dungeons gave life to her hair, he'd wanted nothing more than to run his hand through that thriving mass, bunch it in his fist and pull her head back to expose her throat. He'd finished his potion quickly and watched her stealthily for the rest of the lesson as she tried to help Longbottom with his potion. She'd taken off her robe and rolled up her sleeves to clean her station, and he couldn't stop looking at her bared arms, the delicate blue veins that were prominent at her wrist.

All he could think about was her, and it was infuriating. Couldn't stop himself from watching her in class, couldn't keep from seeking her out around the castle, from pleasuring himself to the thought of her. He'd been horrified at first to think that she could be the one to tempt him like this, but as the weeks had passed the disgust faded and turned to lust, and his prejudices were little more than faint voices in the back of his mind. He couldn't even remember when he'd given in to it but that hardly mattered now.

You won, he thought, still staring at her. And you didn't even know you were fighting.

She was not a fan of the bubble bath, apparently-either that or the suds had gone before he'd arrived. Wanting to take his time, he took it all in, from the dusky hue of the bath water to the way her knees peeked above its level, the way her breasts glistened wetly. Draco admired her from where he stood for several minutes, let his eyes roam over every exposed inch, the erotic picture she made just lying there. He was tense and heated, felt himself responding to the sight of her. Instinct called him to action but he forced himself to remain still.

How long had he waited for this? How many days had he spent around her, feeling the threads of his control fray and wear thin? Even now, the last of them were snapping in two. He could see her body through the sparkling water, and he felt his cock harden as he stared at the blushing pink of her nipples.

The mermaid had noticed his staring at Hermione, and was not pleased. She beckoned to him from the glass, curled her tail appealingly, teased him with a side view of her breasts, but he never looked at her for longer than a second, and with a final angry flick of her tail she cast the sleeping Head Girl a most venomous look and left her scene.

All the better, he thought. He wanted no witness to what was about to happen, even if that person was not real and incapable of speaking. Hermione stirred in the bath and he licked his lips.

The girl had spent most of the previous day in the library knocking out one assignment after the other, flipping through books whose pages she probably knew by heart, chatting with peers as they passed by from time to time. This he'd watched from the upper levels of the library, positioning himself where she could not see him but he could see her, which he used to his advantage. She rubbed at her headaches and took lozenges to relieve them, spoke quietly but with a confident tone that he could hear all the way from where he lurked. A lost first year stumbled across her and she'd taken several minutes to calm his tears and give him precise directions to the section he wanted and the book he needed, and sent him off with a sweet and a smile.

She was so kind, always-unless her temper was stoked, which was something he did often because it was easy, and he loved to see the fire dancing in her eyes when she looked at him. It was a fire that danced only for him, and he coveted it with a sense of pride and greed. As much as he loved it, he loved her calmness as well. Very much like now, she lay reclined in the tub like royalty, face turned up to the ceiling, baring her throat, as if deliberately tempting him to sin.

That he would, he knew, regardless of whether she wanted him to or not. Not wanting to wake her, Draco pointed his wand at her and whispered a sleeping charm, which took effect immediately. At once she went limp and her head lolled to the side, facing away from him. He stepped carefully towards her, running his tongue along his teeth, feeling the canines sharpen and elongate. They scraped gently against his tongue.

They'd frightened the hell out of him the first time they'd shifted-he'd been thinking of kissing her pale throat and had imagined his hand between her legs and then they'd come out bold as you please and he felt himself growing hard with want, but bit his own tongue by accident and startled himself so badly his erection had gone away.

Briefly after that he'd become a little paranoid, believing himself to be a vampire. He'd inspected his own neck in the loo but found no tell tale punctures, and when he found himself still able to walk in the sun he took to the library, craving answers-among other things. It was nearing his eighteenth birthday and research was the last thing he wanted to do but he had to know what was happening to him so he tried writing to his parents, intending to tell them what was happening to him but being too proud and still a little uncertain, changed his mind and mentioned nothing.

He'd gone through one book after another and found nothing but false starts and worse conclusions. Each diagnosis he felt applied to him until he came across something that derailed it entirely. The search kept him so busy he didn't even have time to watch her as she sped through her work one level below him. And then one day, still without answer, he'd learned from Madame Pince that Granger had the book that might solve his question. The old crone had pointed him to where Granger sat, as if he didn't already know and he'd approached her, stifling the multitude of lustful thoughts that filled him just at the sight of her. She was bent over a book as if nothing else in the world mattered and he couldn't look away from her if he'd tried so he paused at her table and she glanced up after a moment.

"Can I help you?" she'd asked, tucking her hair behind her ear where it'd gone out of place.

"You've got something I need," he'd replied, pointing at the book she was currently using to prop her elbow up.

"I haven't used it yet," she said primly, and he smirked.

"Of course not. You've got that other mountain of books to inspect still." They both looked at the stack of books piled beside her.

She frowned in annoyance, but lifted her arm. "I want it back when you're done with it."

Draco made a show of being put out by her request. "I'm in the upper level, Granger. You'll have to come find me."

"Do I look like I have time to go search for you?" she asked, crossing her arms. "I'm busy, Malfoy."

The sound of his name coming from her mouth was more arousing than he'd ever thought it could be. Draco felt his canines sharpen and before she could do any more damage, he reached over and grabbed the book quickly before she changed her mind. He had to move carefully, she couldn't see his teeth. Not now.

"As am I," he said, smirking, holding the book low at his side to hide the fact that his hands were shaking. There was the strongest urge within him to grab her by the neck and spread her over the table and-

"So if you want your book back you'll have to come to me." His vision was clouding over; he wondered if she could notice it.

"Absolutely not," she snapped. "Read it here if you must. I really do need it."

Draco had considered accepting her proposal, relishing the possibility to needle her a little more or find a way to touch her, but he couldn't trust himself until he knew what he was. His hold on the book was so tight he felt one of his knuckles pop. No, he had to gain control of himself. Draco smoothed his expression, tried to slow his pounding heart.

"I'll be waiting upstairs," he said, looking over his shoulder with a triumphant smirk as he walked away. She hissed something after him but he couldn't hear it over the sound of his blood rushing through his veins. Moving fast, he'd made his way to where his things were set up and at once opened the book to its index, searching for the chapter he needed.

Near the top of the page, his eyes hovered over the title.

Incubus

From Latin Incubo, meaning 'burden', or 'weight'. Female form, called Succubus.

Symptoms include, but are not reduced to:

Sudden sharpness and growth of canine teeth. Mainly when Incubus is highly aroused and intends to mate.

Strong impulses to bite their target(s), even outside of intercourse.

Increased urge for sexual relations with multiple partners, especially while they are asleep.

Insomnia. Or in some, needing less sleep.

Symptoms usually begin to manifest within time nearing the eighteenth birthday of the Incubus. Moreover, the abilities and symptoms listed above are not the only known effects, but are the most common. Individual Incubi may have different symptoms/effects that others do not.

Similar to Veela, if the incubus desires only one partner they may want to mate them. It is very rare that an Incubus will only desire one partner, and it is not known how or why it happens. However, unlike Veela, Incubi do not require a willing partner. One bite from an Incubus holds a special hormone that disperses into the system of the victim to bind them to the Incubus. This creates a "love effect," which can fool the victim into believing they truly love the Incubus, and will deny having been forced into a sexual relationship. Efforts to reverse the damages have been unsuccessful thus far. It is unclear how long the "love effect" lasts, if it goes away at all.

Incubi are dangerous creatures because of this. The ability to coerce an unwilling victim makes it illegal for registered Incubi to mate unless the participant accepts the mating, as it will be considered rape without the consent of the partner.

All Incubi are registered at birth to lessen the risk of crime. Magical law compels that an Incubi parent must present identification and proof for the child to be tested. Additionally the family's records will be looked into if either party is known to have one in their lineage.

To keep silent is illegal. Infant Incubi are identified by a certain enzyme found in their blood. If it is found, the child is registered. If the child proves clean, no registry takes place. If the Incubi/Succubi parent produces more children each one must be tested, and so on. As the Incubus/Succubus child matures and grows into their powers, the Ministry monitors them closely to be sure that no problems arise.

Incubi are most well known for targeting their victims whilst the victim sleeps, but are well capable of intercourse while the target is awake, though the mating bite only takes effect when the target is awake. It is within the habit of an Incubi to choose a different target each time they choose to attack, but some tend to stick with the same target. The aim of an Incubi is to impregnate the victim, willing or not, although now in modern times the Author supposes there are less Incubi registered because the Incubi chooses not to father children. Still, the sinister thought persists that not all Incubi/Succubi parents are truthful when asked about their family history upon birth of their child, and that may be also be a contributing factor to the lower numbers.

An Incubi's sexuality tends to be fluid-most have no qualm about sleeping with the same sex as well as the opposite, though their preference is entirely their own-one may choose to sleep exclusively with males or females.

Religious Muggle lore depicts Incubi/Succubi as grotesque, small demons. This is not true for Magical Folk. Incubi/Succubi appear entirely human, though only through their ancestry can one determine where the Incubus link was forged. The demon aspect is questionable, but has yet to be proven. There is no defining outward trait that can give away the identity of one, except for the shifting fangs, which understandably is not seen often. On a personal note, the Author strongly believes that what the Muggles believe to be Incubi or "sleep demons," as they call them, are actually goblins in disguise hunting for stolen relics.

Additionally, Muggle lore holds a plethora of ways to ward off Incubi, including exorcism, although none has been proven to work on Incubi of the magical variety.

If someone you suspect is experiencing such as listed above, the author recommends the reader to keep their distance until it is proved the Incubus is registered and has no intentions of harm. If the reader suspects that said Incubus/Succubus is unregistered, the best course of action is to alert the Ministry at once and defend yourself well if you suspect you are being targeted.

"Are you done, then?"

Draco had looked up, heart pounding, to see Granger standing at the end of his table, scowling at him. Her lips were pursed and her arms were at her sides though they twitched now and then as if she were resisting the urge to cross them. She was beautiful in her righteous annoyance but his was greater so he scowled back at her.

"I am not, actually," he'd said, displeased that she'd given him so little time. "Did you decide I only needed three minutes or do you really read that fast?"

"I told you I needed it," she had replied stubbornly, and he rolled his eyes.

"I need more time, Granger." She didn't reply and he rolled his eyes. "What, do you think I'm going to set fire to this thing? Is that why you didn't want to give it to me?

She looked at him suspiciously. "Why do you need it?"

"For research," he snapped, and gestured impatiently to the book. "Why else?"

Normally she would have continued the argument but there'd been something in his eyes that made her reconsider, so she backed down.

"You'd better hurry," she said, walking away. "I need to finish my paper."

Draco had ignored her and turned back to the open page. Gods, she was annoying. It was lucky that she'd left then and not a moment sooner, for his patience was wearing thin and he was still trying to cope with what he had just learned. That and the fact that his teeth were almost aching to sink into her. He ran his tongue over them carefully, opened his hand and inspected it. It had stopped shaking.

His parents had never mentioned this, did they know? Could one of them be an Incubus? Draco scrubbed his hands over his face. They'd never kept anything from him, especially if it was something as important as this. The Malfoy family tree had its fair share of sirens and Veela, but he'd never heard of a Succubus grandmother or vice versa. He thought to all the times his mother had made him study the tapestries with his ancestor's names stitched onto them, and could not recall any mention of one. Although, he imagined that was not something one could talk about readily. The book implied it wasn't such a great thing to be an Incubus since you had to be registered and then monitored the rest of your life to make sure you never did what you were supposed to...

Draco frowned.

If they had never told him, they didn't know. If they didn't know, it meant he was not registered. He would have known, as he'd seen his birth certificate several times throughout his childhood, he would have remembered seeing that word on there.

Draco could have pursued the matter further, but it really didn't interest him that much how he came to be. The point was that he finally knew what he was, and though it felt strange to never have known, he accepted it easily and without struggle, finally having found an answer to why all these strange things had been happening to him lately.

After having made sure there was no one around, he'd carefully torn the page from the book and stuffed it into his pocket. Whatever Granger needed the book for, he wouldn't have her stumbling across this. It wouldn't do to let her have this knowledge, if she didn't already have it. As for himself, he would give her no reason to suspect him for what he was. He would play it safe and none would be the wiser.

He made sure to slam the book down onto Granger's table as he left the library, just for that lovely little wrinkle that formed between her brows. He gave her a dark, taunting smile as he swept past.

So he'd kept his distance, painful as it was. Bided his time. Ignored his instinct. The call of the Mudblood was strong but he wasn't going to go to all that trouble to have her. She simply wasn't worth the trouble, he told himself over and over. A few times he tried to convince himself to find another target. Even if they weren't his mate, perhaps the urges would lessen. He'd spent days looking around the castle's population for a possible contender, but found none that compared to her, to his great frustration. His former sexual partners would have been ideal, but strangely he felt repulsed at the thought of having sex with anyone that wasn't her. It was only her touch he wanted, her sweet warmth.

Resentment began to form inside him, paired with impatience. It wasn't fair that it had to be her. It wasn't fair that he'd been affected like this, and be made to suffer just because of a stupid set of laws. Still, the anger towards her never lasted long. Rather, it turned towards himself for not claiming her. He grew volatile and angry and ever more impatient but still managed to stamp down the intrusive thoughts that filled his mind. Meanwhile, she took no notice of him, busy as she was in her own world. Only when he knocked her shoulder with his own in the corridor or caught her eye from across a room did she pay him any attention, and even then her only course of action was to look away and act like he wasn't there. Every time this happened he grew more frustrated and felt his control loosen a fraction more. He watched from afar as she dallied with Potter and Weasley, jealous that they should get to be near her and touch her anytime they wanted while he, her own mate, suffered in the shadows.

How he wanted her. He wanted her underneath him, screaming his name. He wanted her heavy with his children. Wanted her wrapped around him, wanted his mark on her skin, his seed in her womb and gave no consideration to the consequences his plans would have. He wanted her, and that was all that he cared about. Even if she didn't want him he would have her. He refused to go on longer without his mate.

Now, as he made his way to her, he smiled again, unable to help himself as he took her in.

So beautiful. So sweet. So unaware.

At last he reached the tub and took off his coat, removed his shirt to reveal his bare chest, and removed his trousers next, never once taking his eyes away from her, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the tiny cluster of bubbles that clung to her nipples, the curve of her lips.

Draco crept to the side of the tub and hovered there as he perused her body. Oblivious to his presence, Hermione's mouth fell open the tiniest fraction and he reached forward to brush his thumb over her lips. They were soft and smooth and warm and he pressed his thumb down, met her teeth.

"If you were awake you'd have clawed my eyes out the moment I'd stepped into this room."

She couldn't answer. Her fingers twitched again.

"I don't know why this is happening to me," he said softly. "But I'll jump at any chance to make you mine."

A tiny frown bent her brow. Draco smoothed it with his fingers, brushed her hair away from her neck.

"I only want a sample tonight," he said. "But be still wary, my sweet. I've grown tired of waiting."

Draco bent forward and grasped her throat, pulled her close, cemented his mouth to hers as the beginning of his claim. Her lips were tart like cherries and just as ripe; he bit the lower gently, gave it a swipe with his tongue. Feeling himself at once addicted to her, he brought her head closer with his hands and kissed her again; his cock twitched, demanding attention but he kept his hands away from himself and focused only on her. Her mouth opened against his, and he tasted her greedily, nibbled and sucked at her lip, shuddering at the pleasure that flooded him.

Still under the curse of his sleeping spell, Hermione remained asleep, completely unaware to the start of her violation. Except her nipples stiffened to his kiss, she mumbled something incoherent into his mouth. Draco trailed his kisses to her neck, which he paid tribute to with his mouth, delighting in the feel of her pulse against his lips. Breathing heavily, he nipped gently at it, then a little harder, wanting so badly to break her skin. His canines had sharpened already and more than once he accidentally bit his own tongue whilst struggling not to bite her-not yet.

Red bloomed on her skin where he kissed her, made redder by his own blood and he was perversely glad to see it, to see evidence of him being there, and wished it would stay forever. When the marks began to fade he pressed his lips to them, gave the softest scrape of his fangs to her skin, and she stirred again. Everything inside him was screaming for him to bite down, to puncture, to pierce, to mark, but he remained gentle. Now was not the proper time, even if he wanted to obey with all his heart.

Her breasts jiggled with a pleasing weight in his palms, tinged rosy as his fingers teased at them, the soft, delicious flesh just begging for the mark of his teeth. With his mouth he paid worship to her nipples, first teasing them with the tip of his tongue and then sucking on them hard, and she jerked against him, her thighs coming together tight. Abruptly her arm reached up to grasp at his shoulder and he paused, but she was still asleep, so he resumed without a second thought to ravish her breasts, his voracious mouth taking no consideration to the pain he might be causing her, even though she was asleep.

A moan rose from deep in her throat to surprise him and shaking, he gripped his cock and began to stroke, his head dropping low. His muscles quivered with excitement, his cock was harder than diamond, he felt himself wound so tightly he thought any other movement might break him to pieces. Hermione's thighs had fallen apart during his onslaught of her chest and he stared fixedly at her private region, impatient to taste her there, almost salivating at the promise of her taste. Something in his head was screaming for him to fuck her, take her now and he had to stop himself from crawling into the tub to join her within, and take her hard on the marble surface. The image of it in his head brought him to orgasm swiftly-he gasped aloud-a dry, choked sound, and shuddered violently. He slowed his hand to draw it out, cum dripping down his fist as he threw his head back and moaned.

As if she'd heard him, she turned away, one arm crossed over her chest like she wanted to preserve her modesty.

"There's no need," he told her gently, pulling it away. Her chest was flushed and dotted with smeared marks his bloodied lips had left. Draco cleaned his hand, panting, and moved to carry her out of the tub. His arms slid underneath her and he withdrew her from the now cool water, feeling her shiver against his body all the while. Water dripped from her body and his arms; he had to be careful not to slip. There was a bench nearby; he transfigured it into a bed and set her down on it gently, arranged a pillow underneath her hips and raised her knees so that her feet were planted on the bed on either side of him.

She was frowning, lips pulled in a pout. Draco kissed her hungrily, fingers teasing at her folds-first gentle, then more insistent as his need grew. He was still hard, but too aware of the fact that he only had so much time before she would be suspicious of falling asleep for so long in the bath so he ignored himself and pressed harder around her clit. A harsh breath expelled itself from her mouth and her hips pushed into him-Draco smirked, and continued stroking her there, alternating paces until his fingers were coated in her wetness and she was all but grinding into his hand. Her own hands repeatedly went to touch his, as if egging him on or begging him to stop.

Draco spread his other hand over her lower belly.

"I'm going to taste your beautiful pussy now, Granger," he told her though she could not respond. "I'm going to make you cum, and then I'm going to leave this room with the taste of your cunt in my mouth."

He ducked low and positioned himself comfortably between her legs, holding them around him close before placing them around her lips and spreading her open. Hermione shifted, still frowning, as if she knew what was about to happen. Draco paid her no attention and dove in.

At the first taste he moaned, and gave her another slow lick, to which she responded by twisting at her waist, trying to turn onto her side, but he held her down and she subsided quickly. Draco teased at her nub with the tip of his tongue, pressing hard around it and circling it, head swimming with desire, then pressed it flat against her, lapping at her quickly in a fluttering motion.

Every time he breathed in he was filled with the scent of her and it drove him wild; he began to work at her harder; her thighs clenched hard around him, her hands were in his hair, grasping and trembling all around him. She had thrown her head back, mouth open wide in a scream that never came, her stomach heaved with the uneven breaths she took, her face was flushed like he'd never seen it; rosy and radiant and utterly pleasured. He replaced his tongue with his fingers and groaned, touching his throbbing cock with his other hand. He was so close, it only took a few hard tugs of his fist to reach his release, shuddering at the wake of it, all the while still working at her, pressing and rubbing her incessantly until his hand was sore and she arched off the bed and cried out, her eyes flying open for a second before she fell limp again, still blessedly caught in the tangle of a spelled sleep.

Draco took a moment to flex and relax his hand before he began to rub again, more insistently. Immediately she arched off the bed, her hips bucked into his touch, she let out a hoarse moan and he smirked, slipped his finger inside her heat, curled them inside her to stroke the rough patch hidden inside her. Quickly, she began to burn again, as he increased pressure and kept at the same torturous pace she pressed her head back into her pillow and gave a choked cry as she fell apart, her thighs trembled and squeezed him; he grimaced, still working her with his fingers until she shattered one last time. Draco crawled forward, running his hands up her torso to cup her rosy face. Her breathing was slowing back down although her body still trembled underneath his. She was so hot; the heat of her body could have melted him. He leaned down to kiss her hungrily, and couldn't help the jerking of his hips against her body, the need to alleviate the wretched lust that filled him.

She was a gift; utter perfection. Sometimes, when he watched her, it was hard to believe she was real.

"And only for me," he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against her throat. He could feel her pulse against his lips.

The Gods couldn't have created a more perfect being to become his mate.

Draco pulled away from her at last and stood. Temporarily satiated, his lust had calmed and now settled inside him happily though he hadn't taken her in the way he desperately wanted. Spent and damp with sweat, he cleaned his hands quickly and pushed his hair back, hastened to find his boxers before temptation prevailed and he kept her locked inside the room with him for longer than he'd meant to. He pulled his trousers and shoes back on, and once done returned to pick her up. Her head lolled back, but the flush remained on her cheeks, and he kissed her hard again. Her lips yielded to his easily, and he had to break the kiss before he gave in and bit her at last.

"I'll have you," he promised her, and stooped low to settle her into the tub and arrange her just in the way he'd found her. The water sloshed quietly and he rubbed at her skin to rid her of his blood. His hands lingered on her bent knees, he stared down to what he'd just sampled. His groin began to stir again.

"Soon."

He gathered his shirt and coat and dressed himself quickly, lingered at the door to make sure he'd left no trace. The bed. Gods, he'd almost missed it. Draco hissed a reversal spell and the bed transformed back into the original bench, and satisfied, he left.

Hermione lurched awake, gasping. The beating of her heart was all she could hear; it drummed loudly in her head. Then the sound of the water which she'd just agitated in waking registered and she frowned.

Water?

She looked down, saw her own naked body. The suds were long gone, the water was absent of heat. She didn't need to look at her fingertips to know they were wrinkled. The tell tale tightness of the skin made her fingers feel tingly.

"I fell asleep!" she groaned, bringing her hand up to her forehead. What time was it? She rose from the water and used her hands to squeegee the excess from her body and stepped out, wrapping her towel around herself. The ends of her hair had got wet, but that didn't matter. The floor was already wet; she frowned and looked up at the ceiling, wondering if it had always been so leaky.

Hermione stepped forward, and frowned. She felt sensitive between her legs, like when she touched herself too vigorously at night sometimes until she couldn't control the trembling of her thighs. Hermione reached down and touched herself there gingerly, and gasped. Even that hurt.

She stifled a laugh. Had she masturbated in her sleep? It seemed likely. She hadn't even known that was possible. She walked to where she'd laid out her clean clothes, biting her lip to keep the cheeky giggles away.

Well, no matter. Hermione dressed herself hastily and pinned her Head Girl badge to the front of her robes. Strange. Even her breasts felt quite tender.

Perhaps I'm nearing my monthly, she thought, shrugging it off as she left the room. She'd been too busy lately to keep track of it, but now wasn't the time to ponder over it-she'd been due to meet Harry and Ron fifteen minutes ago, according to her watch, so she hurried along, unaware of a pair of clear eyes that watched her from a darkened alcove.

After she'd gone from the corridor he emerged, eyes still shining strangely, from his hiding place, and he set off for the Slytherin common rooms, a haunting smirk on his lips.