It was 7:16 in the morning. Every day, a little after 7:15am, she would walk into the Great Hall, a new book in her small hands and a bright smile on her freckled face. She would walk down the table, waving and beaming at the other lions of her house before sitting down next to Scarhead and directly in front of the King of the Weasels. Some days, Weasley would sit next to her and Potter in front. Other days, she would be next to the She-Weasley with the males in front of them. But every day, she sat right in front of me. She may have been a table away, but my line of focus was easily focused on her.

She had big, soft brown eyes with flecks of Gryffindor gold in them. I knew because I stared into the eyes every night as she shattered and screamed my name in a blissful orgasm. I knew that those bushy curls looked wild and rough, but they were soft to the touch, and wrapped around my fingers like silk. That fair white skin of hers changed colors at night, going from white to red as she blushed head to toe in her glorious birthday suit. Those lips that always seemed to be pursed and in a tight line were actually plump and addictive, tasting like sweet, ripe strawberries.

Her body was a whole other story itself. She was the frumpy, prude bookworm that kept her hopeless boy toys out of trouble. She wore the school's baggy robe all day, eventually taking it off before dinner. She left much to the imagination, though. She may have taken off her robe, but she left her long-sleeved jumper on. You may be able to see her nice, toned legs that went on for miles, but her school skirts fell to the top of her knees, and the rest of her legs were hidden beneath gray, knee-high socks.

Oh, but I knew it all. I knew what her body looked like without the teasing school uniform. I knew how soft and subtle her body was. I knew how submissive it was when my fingers touched it. I knew it all like the back of my hand. It was mine, not hers. It was mine alone.

It was now 7:20am. My eyes were waiting in anticipation for the minx to show up, my brain now waking up from the memory of Hermione Granger. The mudblood. The enemy.

She was all mine,

It was now 7:22am, and the whole lot of those little lions were at the table. She was not. Potter was there, chatting up the Weasley girl, and her redheaded brother was shoving food into his greedy mouth as usual. Where was my mudblood?

"Draco, mate, what did that fork ever do to you?"

I blinked twice and turned to my left to see the chocolate Italian stare at me strangely. I released the bent fork from my fist and straightened my back.

"I'm just a little preoccupied as all."

His eyes softened before hardening to lifeless orbs once more. "Mate, you'll be fine. Just fix the cabinet, and the Dark Lord will reward you. How hard can that be?"

Blaise Zabini. Fucking Blaise Zabini, the boy with a gold digging mother and millions of galleons to his name. His inheritance was almost as big as mine, but no other pureblood boy could compete with one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Here Zabini was, trying to lighten my troubles, when he had no idea how hard it was. It was not only hard because I had to fix a damn cabinet to let the Death Eaters in, but I had to kill Dumbledore.

Yes, I said to myself as I glanced at the elderly wizard, his beard falling elegantly to his feet. I had to kill the old goose because the Dark Lord must feel threatened by the greatest wizard of all time. I cringe from the thought. How could I call myself a Death Eater when I wanted the light to prevail? How could I break Potter's nose when all I wanted was to fight alongside him as he took down the most evil wizard of all time?

It was now 7:31am, and she still had not entered. I smirked to myself, wondering if it was from all of the extra attention I gave her last night, when she suddenly burst into the hall like a ray of sunlight. She was walking faster than normal, and completely forgot to give me my good morning smirk as she sat next to Weasley and pecked him on the cheek.

Pecked him on the cheek.

Her lips, the lips that had been puffy and swollen from my kisses, touched Weasley's cheek.

Her lips, the lips that had been wrapped around my 10" member, had been infected by the germs of a Weasley.

And then, after watching his face turn the color of a tomato, she turned to face me. She looked up, her gaze low as she smirked at me. Good morning.

I tilted my chin up and rose an eyebrow, but I did not smirk back. She had soiled her lips, her most precious assets, and she wanted me to acknowledge her presence. She must have sensed that something was off, because her smirk fell into a frown, and her brow furrowed. She looked to Weasley, then to me, then to Weasley again, then to me. She rose both of her eyebrows at me and pursed her lips, blinking furiously and flaring her nose. She was riled up. She was angry at me when she should be pissed at herself. I know I was.

I let out a deep sigh through my nose, closing my eyes briefly to calm myself. What did I see in a mudblood? What did I want with her, besides the sex? She was still nothing to me. She was still a mudblood.

But she was a cute one. An adorable one. A beautiful one. A smart one.

She never talked to me after our love-making. She just looked into my eyes, kissed my nose, then fell asleep.

I needed her, I realized with a groan as my eyes flew open to watch her as she watched me. Her lips were parted slightly, her head titled to the side as she appraised me with curious eyes.

I needed her, I knew that already. I needed the escape she gave me. I needed the cute innocence to remind me that there was good in my life. I needed her mud blood as a way to tell Father I hated him for what he's done to me.

And I needed her right now.

I jumped from the table, ignoring Blaise as he called my name, and formed one word with my lips.

Come.

I left the Great Hall, walking briskly to the 5th floor, when I heard light steps follow me closely. I had to suppress a triumphant smirk.

She followed my command.

This is my first fanfiction, so I hope I have appealed to the readers. As you can see, I love when Draco is obsessed with Hermione, but in this story, Hermione is just as obsessed. The question is: how long will this last?

Please read & review. I don't particularly care if you review or not, but I do hope you all read it & enjoy it ! :)

I mean, I DO like when you favorite & follow. But I mean, who cares if the author gets excited that someone likes her story...

And I also don't know how updating will be for me, but I won't go for months without giving an update.