Synthetic Existence.
By: Immortal Jade
The Characters Belong to J.K Rowling, I am not taking credit. I wish to only proceed using my plot and Her Characters.
Hermione Granger was mad – no, not mad, nor frantic, hysterical, nor berserk. Hermione Granger had lost control of her rage, her sanity; and would, have anyone bypassed her boiling silhouette; They would have found themselves hanging from the ceiling by their ankle, the blood rushing to their head, and as fast as she began she would end it by dropping them from the height in which her victim would find themselves.
She was appalled that her two so-called best friends continued to take advantage of her wit. Never had she realized the two pig headed gits might only have befriended her for her undeniable intelligence. Although she knew the latter was only an absurd outburst, and had no lingering truth in it what-so-ever. She had continued to rant.
The two blokes constantly figured she would allow them to slack off with their homework, and copy her own without first disciplining them to do it on their own. Begging for her assistance even after it was denied. Had those two love-struck dim wits no time to do school work while their lips were not permanently stitched to their future ex-girlfriends swollen mouths. Hermione scowled and continued her way down the isolated corridor in attempt to find solitude in the library where she seemed to find herself occupying the same mahogany table in a distant corner, more than she would truly like to. Yes Know-it-all, bookworm Granger was Sick of being ambushed by the shelves of books, but her lack of a social life limited her options.
And that is when she found herself colliding with an unknown being, a person no less. Her books had simply been strewn across the floor in an unburnished mass of paper, ink and quills, her books thrown open and landed with a 'Thud' on the marble tiled floor. She mumbled a series of curse words beneath her breath before looking up to see who she had bumped into, with a quick glance she looked up; Swore again, and retreated to picking up her belongings as Draco Malfoy began to Squall.
"Bloody Hell! Watch where you're going you filthy little mudblood!" Hermione gave him a Death glare. Had her eyes shot daggers, he might have found himself on the floor dead with one driven through his charcoal heart. If a heart even existed in his hollow chest.
"Sod off Malfoy, I do not need your Ignorant, feeble minded arse pestering me at this present moment, so if you'll excuse me, I'd rather spare myself the boredom of listening to your repetitive insults."
"You foul little, no good, hideous buck-toothed prude, I would advise you to respect those superior to your grotesque level of scum. " Hermione snorted as she collected her belongings from the floor.
"Superior? You? You are no better than that blasphemous man you consider your father. Landed himself in jail did he – " She had begun to stand but he grasped her wrists in his massive hands, and pushed her up against the wall. The sound of her skull hitting the concrete wall echoed throughout the corridor. He had her pressed against the wall, the vile boy occupying her only escape.
"Do not speak of my father, Impure. .. freak of a human being. .. You tainted waste of flesh. .." He was breathing his venom into her ear and down her neck, sending shivers through to her very marrow.
"You Git! You Bastard! You confound waste of semen! Get your ghastly hands off of me!" Hermione screamed, but his hand muffled her cries of defiance as one of his hands travelled down to her hip, his other comfortably placed on her mouth to refrain her for shouting. She clawed at his hands in attempt to be freed, gasping for air. He removed his hand from her mouth when she made no more attempt to scream, and busied himself by revealing her bare shoulder; and trailing kisses along her virginal skin.
He moaned aloud. Never had the forbidden tasted so sweet, nor had the prohibited made him ache in wanting. She tasted like a strawberry milkshake consisting of a cherry on top. She was truly a dessert. He began to crave her like heroin, a drug infested addict wanting only a taste, but needing so much more than just a little.
"Mal. ..Mal – foy. .." Hermione gasped as she tried shoving him away from her quivering figure. He moved to look at her Charcoal honey eyes. She felt his orbs burning into her own, looking at her. Through her. As if she were possessed her eyes became transfixed with his lips, and she leant forward moaning into his lips as her tongue spelt out various titles of books in his mouth. He pushed her up further against the wall as his hand caressed her thigh beneath her uniform skirt.
Draco Malfoy hated Hermione Granger. Loathed her. He wished he could throw her in a musty cell, and torture her, until the rims of her eyes revealed a dark purple and a faint shade of black. He'd beat her until all the bones in her body were shattered into a puzzle of pieces. Her breathing ragged, as if each were her last. He wanted to see her die, five times over. Drowned into her own filth, her own decay. Her own foul blood. Yes, Draco Malfoy hated Hermione But he longed for her touch, her scent, her voice.
He loved to see her smile, knowing he could suck all happiness from her with just a minimum amount of words. He longed to touch her with the knowledge that she would taint him, and draw back in disgust. Her voice hypnotized him, knowing he could strangle her, and he'd hear no more. He longed for the excitement she made him feel with her presence. The twisted sneer he wore, just to see her boil with anger for him, he loved her when she was angry, he knew she was more courageous to fight back, and had more wit. Their feuds were endless and voluntary.
Hermione looked to the man who stood almost two feet taller than herself. Never had she hated someone more. She wanted to dismember his body, sever his veins, poison his blood. She wanted him to drop dead and roll into a grave filled with cockroaches, leaches, and maggots. His true family tree, consisting of nothing but parasites. She wanted to gouge out his eyes so he could no longer see her, she wanted him to be lost in a silent darkness. She had never wanted to see pain inflicted on any other human being, with a heart, and a soul. But then she met him. And he had neither. She could care less what happened to him, so long as she was there to watch him wilt away in his own madness, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull.
At First he kissed her cheek, then the very corner of her lips, before closing his mouth over hers. Despite her frozen posture, her lips opened softly beneath his. Her heart drummed madly, which confounding him renewed his determination. Without preamble, he sank his tongue inside and groaned aloud at the delicious taste of her.
She stood on tiptoe and kissing him, her lips caressing his once, twice, then she lost herself in the sheer twisted joy of being near him and kissing him as much as she wanted to. Her fingers tracing his jaw. She laid her hand over his heart, feeling his blood pump sure and strong beneath her palm. A moan escaped his lips as she kissed him again. He slipped his arms around her and lifted her, bringing her tight to his torso, and pressed her up against the cement wall. Her toes no longer touching the ground beneath her.
He deepened the kiss, their mouths and breaths as one, and she folded her arms around his neck, holding him tight. Her tongue matched his stroke for stroke. Her fingertips pressed into the flesh of his neck; Her heart pounded for him, and his desire for her made them nearly delirious.
She made him pulse with need.
He made her quiver with demand.
He pressed against her trying to complete the contact of their bodies. Despite his resolve, it amazed and excited him that she had always looked so innocent. For all the time he'd known her, she'd seemed disinterested in sexual contact, let alone fraternizing with the enemy. Yet here she was, wriggling against him drenched in sweat, and shaking with a passionate tension.
Oh how he loathed her perfection. He hated her, not for her blood, not because she was best friend with the Boy-Who-Won't-Fucking-Die, but because she was a little more than he called amazing. She challenged him, her wit stumped him, She was plain but her beauty intrigued him, and her humour was engaging. Oh how he wanted to be the death of her. He felt dirty for touching her, for kissing her, for allowing her to poison him with her touch. But she intoxicated him, ensnared his senses, made him feel a false sense of immortality.
Hermione's breathing accelerated she no longer had control of her actions, she felt as though another being were inside of her forcing her into these absurd movements of affection. Once they broke apart she would fall to the ground in disbelief and self-loathing for allowing her immoral temptations to take hold of her and use her as a doll, touching, and exploring the feel of her enemy. A mixed feeling a passion and guilt made her nearly nauseous. She grasped all remaining dignity in herself and pushed herself off of him.
" Who we are does not permit us to continue this outrageous affair." He stared at her with a cocky look on his face, cupping her face in his hands, and tenderly kissing her forehead.
" Who we are nearly states we have a given path to follow, it does not, at any time tell us to refrain from inner house unity." He smirked.
"Is that what you would categorize this as? "Inner house Unity" ? Fondling me as if tomorrow were the end of the wizarding world. You make me sick Malfoy, you arrogant prat. " She moved to walk away but he grabbed hold of her arm and held onto it tightly.
"What if tomorrow were the end? What if this was our last day, and we would all perish come tomorrow? You can't deny the war looming over head Granger, it will come, and many will die."
"Yes, and by Merlin I swear I will kill you." He grabbed her by the neck and began to cut off her air supply.
"Not if I kill you first mudblood, I will kill you. Would you like to know why? Because Your perfection makes me vomit, How can you, a low life mudblood succeed such fame? Such grace? Such beauty? Yet be tainted? I want you Hermione Granger, I want to be Your first Love, I want to torture you, I want to poison you, Make your skin crawl with aggravation, I want to kill you."
And with that Draco Malfoy pulled out his wand and had it aimed toward her chest. Planting a kiss on her forehead.
" I promise this won't hurt a bit. " He spoke softly as She struggled against his grasp whimpering for air. He genuinely smiled at her flailing form. With a jet of green light portraying from the piece of wood held in his hand, Hermione Granger fell limp in his arms, her eyes so abaft her skull, she teared blood.
He held her for a minute, just holding her in his arms, looking down at her pale figure now rigid stiff, and cold. Oh how he loved her better when she was dead. His kissed her purple lips to taste of her decay, and dropped her, her body falling into a strange position with her arm about her head, and legs sprawled open. What a compromising position for a virgin, was Draco Malfoy's last mourning thought before he disappeared down the corridor to a place where he could be rid of her foul blood that now made him shake in disgust, he felt dirty again and needed to wash himself of her ill blood.
Of her touch Intoxicating.
There! My First Draco and Hermione OneShot. Woohoo!
How was it ? Did you like it ?
Read and Review! It would be greatly appreciated!
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Immortal Jade.