AN: I didn't create them, I just make them fall in love :) And this is rated *M* for a reason...
Would You Kill Me? Unrated ;)
She was looking him directly in the eye and that didn't happen often. Most people feared him, or his name at least, and they didn't look at him when they spoke. She, of all people, should have been terrified. Perhaps there was something to Gryffindor bravery after all.
They were alone too; something else that didn't happen often. School was nearly out for the holiday, but the two of them would remain at Hogwarts.
It seemed like an eternity before she finally spoke. "We're alone."
He rolled his silver eyes. "What's your point?"
She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice before she asked; "If there were no witnesses and no repercussions, given the opportunity, would you kill me?"
His heart almost stopped. Surely she hadn't really asked such a question. He couldn't answer.
"It's a simple question, Malfoy" she prompted nonchalantly, but her eyes betrayed her.
He laughed tensely. "That is far from a simple question."
"Yes or no would suffice."
"Would you?" he countered.
"Kill myself?" she joked with a straight face. "No."
He rolled his eyes again. "Would you kill me?"
She smiled a queer smile. "Only if you were trying to kill me."
"In that case, no, I wouldn't kill you."
She scoffed. "I always knew you were noble," she said sarcastically.
A wicked thought suddenly entered his mind. Death didn't scare her; that was part of the trio's manifesto, but he would bet money that there was one thing that Hermione Granger did fear. So he asked a question of his own. "If there were no witnesses and no repercussions, given the opportunity, would you shag me?"
Her face fell and her nostrils flared in anger. "That's not funny," she whispered harshly and stood up.
After that, Draco acted on impulse and nothing else. He stood and followed her as she walked to the door, taking hold of her arm as she reached to open it. He spun her around and trapped her against the wall, pressing the entire length of his body into her. "Who's joking?"
She couldn't breathe; one because he was so close to her and two because he was literally so close to her. His hands ran down the length of her arms and took hold of her wrists before she could push him away. He was too strong for her anyway. His knee forced its way between her legs and his head dipped to her neck, kissing the throbbing artery that told him just how nervous she was.
"You ask about death with a straight face," he whispered next to her ear. "But run when I mention sex."
She whimpered and shivered. "Some things are more frightening than others."
He let go of her wrists, one hand trailing up her side until he held her breast in his hand. "You're not fighting me,"
She looked up then. Her cheeks were flushed and her brown eyes were dropping slightly. She wanted this. "Should I?" she choked.
"No," He crushed his lips to hers in the next instant and he felt himself grow harder as she freely kissed him back. Her lips were soft, he could tell even though he moved over them with a fierceness that spoke of his growing need. He felt her hands on the sides of his face, pulling him into her as their tongues wrestled in the shared space.
His free hand reached between them and pulled up the front of her skirt, his fingers itching to touch her. He trailed his fingers up her smooth thigh, wanting to ease her into his touch. If she pushed him away now he would go crazy. He reached his cotton covered destination and ran a singular finger along her center. Her panties were soaked. He hooked his finger over the fabric, feeling her silky hair against his knuckle, and he pulled them down until they were out of his way.
She gasped into his mouth as he slipped two fingers into the slippery, warm folds.
"You're soaking wet," he whispered and covered her lips again before she could respond.
She moaned quietly and pushed her fingers back into his hair, pressing her hips into his hand. Any thoughts of protest had been firmly pushed to the back corner of her mind and gagged. His hand, once gently caressing her breast through the layers of her clothing now moved under her shirts on her bare skin. No boy—no man had touched her this way and as far as she was concerned, he could do whatever he wanted.
Yet, the moment she heard the sound of his zipper, she put her hands flat on his chest and pushed. It wasn't enough to push him down or away, just enough to make him stop. "No," she breathed, shaking her head desperately. "Not like this, not with you."
He was ashamed to admit he was a little hurt. Not to mention the fact that he was hurting to have her. "Not with me? Or just not like this?"
She looked into his eyes then, her brown orbs full of confusion and conflict. "I don't know. Certainly not like this. It's too tawdry."
His eyes brows hit his hairline and he smirked at her. "Tawdry? But that's half the fun."
She shook her head and inhaled deeply. "Not really."
He couldn't help but notice that she wasn't righting her clothing. Her small, white knickers were still around her ankles and her jumper still revealed half of her flat, buttery soft stomach. It did nothing to cool him off. "What would make it less tawdry?"
She worried her bottom lip for a few seconds before she answered. "A bed?"
His smirk morphed into a grin as he turned and pointed his wand at the table they had recently vacated. He had paid attention in Transfiguration, after all. The hard, wooden table swiftly transformed into a queen-sized bed with green satin sheets.
She whimpered with wide eyes as he turned back to her, but she still wasn't leaving.
"Anything else?"
With another deep breath, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the door. When she turned back to him, her face held a very different look. She was serious and concentrated—clearly her Gryffindor bravery had returned with her decision to go through with this.
He swore his mouth began to water as she stepped out of her knickers and shoes and pushed them to the side. She never broke eye contact with him as she walked forward, save for the few seconds when she pulled her jumper over her head and let it fall to the floor. If she was going to sleep with her archenemy, she was going to do it right.
Button by button, she opened his shirt until she could push it back over his shoulders and run her hands over the Quidditch toned muscles of his chest. His skin was searing. He might have been her enemy but he was so sexy it hurt to look at him at times. This was one of those times, but nothing could have made her take her eyes off of him. Even his generally infuriating smirk was tempting her to do things she had never dreamed of doing.
On a roll, she went for his trousers—but Draco stopped her. "No, no," he whispered and began to open her shirt. "This is a game. I lose my shirt, you lose yours."
Only, her shirt apparently included her bra as well because before she knew it he was caressing the soft skin that had been untouched before that moment. Her eyes slid shut at his touch and the next thing she felt was his lips on her neck.
"Do you know what comes next?" he whispered, grazing her skin with his nose.
"I've an idea," she retorted before she covered his mouth desperately. Somehow it was easier to reach down and undo his trousers while he was kissing her. Only she surprised herself—and definitely Draco—when she touched him after they had fallen to his ankles. She felt his body sway as he stepped out of his shoes and trousers, then his arm wrapped around her waist and whirled her around so the bed was behind her.
"You're not finished."
He could see her bravery falter for a moment as her eyes flicked up to his before she slid her thumbs under the waistband of his emerald boxers and pushed them down his thighs. Her fingers, feathery soft against his skin, burned a trail up his leg. Even if she was nervous, she was good at this.
She was jealous that he was so comfortable standing there in absolutely nothing when her heart was racing and she was still wearing her skirt…for now. His hands slid down her sides, every nerve in her skin reacted to his touch, and he opened the zipper on her hip. Her knickers had long since been discarded so after the skirt pooled around her feet, she stood in front of him in nothing at all.
He suddenly swept her up into his arms and knocked the breath from her lips. "What're you doing?"
Even though his eyes were dark with desire, the smirk returned to his swollen lips. "Well you asked for a bed, I assumed you wanted to be on it."
He set her down on the silky smooth sheet and immediately lay next to her, kissing her neck and running his hands over every inch of her heated skin. He couldn't wait any longer; he had to be with her—now.
"Oi!" she cried with wide eyes.
Draco immediately stilled, his own eyes suddenly scared and confused. "What? What's wrong?"
"That hurt! Merlin, does gentle mean anything to you?"
As uncharacteristic as it was, he felt suddenly guilty as he understood what her outrage meant. "You're a virgin?"
"Well I was!"
His jaw fell open. Though he shouldn't have been so shocked, she was Hermione Granger, after all. He just never for a second thought that said witch would give him her virginity. "I'm so sorry, Hermione, I didn't realize—"
Her lips cut him off in a searing kiss. There were two things he could say that could make her get over the small bit of pain and they had just come out of his mouth: I'm sorry and Hermione.
He remained still, content for the time being to feel her lips hungrily move over his, so she could to get used to the feel of him. After all, he had never intended to hurt her; he had just assumed that if she was willing to give in to him that she had done this before. Even as he began a slow, gentle rhythm, he wondered just what that meant…and why it suddenly mattered so much to him.
For the first time in her life, Hermione simply let herself go and completely live in the moment. It felt good, after all—he felt good. With a sudden urge of vixen-like lust, she pushed him over until he was on his back and she was straddling him. It surprised her when a grin parted his lips and he pulled her face back to his.
The time flew by with every kiss and caress until they peaked together and fell back to the bed, breathless. There was space between them as they rested on their backs, catching their breath.
"Merlin, you really are good at everything, aren't you?" Draco whispered between deep breaths and smiled over at the woman who had just upset his very foundation.
But she was sitting up, dangling her feet over the side of the bed and sighing. She still wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing; he was surprised that she was so comfortable with every inch visible. "That's what they tell me," she replied—bitterly.
The view from where he was laying was too beautiful. Even though he had heard the bitterness in her voice, he moved to kiss the back of her neck. "Hermione, what is it?"
"Don't call me that," she demanded harshly.
He began to kiss his way down her spine. "Why?"
"Because it makes this feel like something it isn't." Her breath noticeably quickened as his hand moved over her skin and between her thighs.
"And what isn't this?" he whispered against her skin.
Then she stood and moved away from his touch. "Healthy."
Healthy or not, the following evening she tackled him onto the bed, tearing off his clothes as she kissed him with the same passion he felt. They were between the sheets in seconds flat and together not long after. She was intoxicating and he drank in every sigh and satisfied moan she uttered. Every aspect of her was beauty personified. His hands roamed over the soft skin of her breasts and her nails dug into his back when his lips followed and took the taut peak into his mouth. Her back arched, her head thrown back, and he could feel himself on the brink right along with her.
He collapsed on top of her, his deep breaths filled with the scent of her skin as he kissed her collar bone. "Mmmm," he hummed against her skin. "That was brilliant."
She didn't agree. In fact, when he fell back onto the bed next to her, she swung her feet over the side as she had the previous day and hopped off the bed. She was dressed in no time and heading toward the door.
That was their pattern. He waited for her; she tackled him, shagged him and left without speaking to him. And every day Draco watched her leave, he grew more scared at the feelings he was desperately trying to ignore.
"Why do you keep coming back, Hermione?" he whispered from the bed they had been sharing once a day for the past week. "You always end up leaving like this."
"I told you not to call me that," she reminded him harshly as she fastened her bra. "I don't call you Draco."
"You just did," he pointed out, walking around her so he could see her face.
She rolled her eyes then looked at him. "For the love of all things magical, put some clothes on!"
"Why?" he breathed, taking hold of her upper arms so she couldn't run from him.
There was anger in her eyes; there normally was when he questioned her like this. "Because this has repercussions!" she cried, her eyes filling with tears.
"Hermione," he breathed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Hermione—"
"Stop!" she yelled, tears pouring faster. "Please, stop! Don't you get it? You said you wouldn't kill me, but you are right now!"
He took her face in his hands. "And there are repercussions."
She sniffed and confusion filling her eyes. "What do you mean?"
He had never thought the words could come out of his mouth; he hadn't been sure if his tongue could form them at all. More than that, he had never thought that he would ever feel what he was feeling, especially not for her, especially not after a week and most especially not because of a silly challenge made when they were alone. But he did feel it and he wasn't used to being denied something he wanted. He wanted to tell her. "Hermione, I think I've fallen in love with you."
Disbelief flashed in her eyes as they filled with tears again. "You love me?"
His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in for a slow, sultry kiss. "Why do you think I keep coming back?"
She bit her bottom lip, still managing to look innocent in her current state of undress. "Because I'm the best shag you've ever had?"
He couldn't help but laugh against her mouth as he kissed her again. "That might have something to do with it as well."
His lips kissed a path over her jaw and down the side of her neck and he slid her still open shirt off of her shoulders. "Am I still killing you?"
"Yes," she breathed, her head thrown back and her eyes closed. "Only, in a good way."
He unclasped her bra with one hand and cupped her soft breast, grazing her nipple with the pad of his thumb. Her hands splayed over the warm skin of his back and slowly moved over the taut, perfect muscles of his buttocks.
"Draco," she whispered as he made his way back to her lips.
He looked up with a soft smile and spoke nothing of his wildly beating heart. "Yes?"
"I think—I think I love you too."