"And will you tell all your friends, you've got your gun to my
head."-Taking Back Sunday
Footsteps could be heard clamoring down the corridor in an effort to run away. They accelerated faster and faster until they faded into the night. Booming steps sauntered behind, lazily, effortlessly.
"That's right; run little lamb." He smirked.
She stopped for a second to catch her breath. Putting her ear to the wall, she listened for footfalls, her heart skipping like a rabbit's. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned around. She slammed right into something solid and gasped. He towered over her, eyes glinting.
"Fancy meeting you here," his gaze pierced through her, "these games of cat and mouse are really futile, and a waste of perfectly expensive shoe leather. Why don't you just stop running away?" Her breath seemed to be caught in her throat. He could see the terror in her eyes, and it made him grin, showing perfect, sharp, white teeth. She backed away until she was cornered against a wall, nowhere to run, cowering. This only made his smile broaden. He took a lock of her chestnut hair and twirled it in his fingers.
"Why can't I feel anything from anyone but you?" He whispered into her ear, running a finger down her spine. She trembled. Suddenly, he pushed her roughly into the wall. She winced in pain, and grabbed her arm.
"It's all your fault. You must have some kind of potion. What are you doing to me, bitch??" he spat at her. She said nothing. He kicked her in the stomach, making her cough up blood.
"Answer me." He demanded.
"You're such a sucker," she sputtered, her voice hoarse. "You're smitten with me. You follow me around like some lovesick puppy. It's a bit pathetic, don't you think, Draco?" Her lips curled in a mocking smile. She let out a yelp of pain as her grabbed her by the arm and dragged her up to face him. A dribble of blood flowed down her chin. He slapped her with all the force he could muster. It was more of a punch than anything. She staggered back at the force of the blow. A deep, purple-blue bruise formed, covering the entire left side of her face. The other half was encased in shadow.
"You're nothing but a whore. I would never follow you. It's you who wants me. You're doing something to me. You get excited by the mere thought of me, admit it. You want me in your bed like every other girl in this school. You're just a slut; a plaything. You're a bloody disgusting mudblood." He hissed.
"Yet you need me, don't you? You're sick, Malfoy. You're twisted and evil. You're a filthy Death eater, that's all you'll ever be. You make me sick. You act all high and mighty, but you're nothing; nothing but a worm for Voldemort." She sneered at him. He stepped forward, livid with anger, and grabbed her wrist. There was a sickening crack and crunching of bones. He was strong. She cried in pain. He captured her lips in a crushing kiss, making her swoon. She let out a howl as her bit her lip hard; making drops of blood fall to the stone floor. He spat it onto the ground.
He rolled up the sleeve of his silk black robe. She could see it even in the pitch dark. It stood out blackened and singed on his alabaster skin, deadly and evil; The Dark Mark. She gasped and he smirked yet again. He pulled a knife out of his pocket. The blade shone silver in the moonlight. He took her fingertips and traced them over the skull and snake.
"See this, Granger? It is power. Someday, our side will conquer you. The Dark Lord will finally have Potter, and I will kill you with my bare hands." He growled. Her breath paused and it was deathly silent.
"Don't tell me you're afraid, mudblood." He said lazily, dragged the knife over her collarbones, causing blood to spurt in little gushes. He smirked wickedly at the look of pain and terror in her eyes. "I thought Gryfindors weren't supposed to be afraid of anything. You're worthless, Granger. You are just fun to toy with." He cut through her robes, exposing the stark-white flesh of her stomach. He cut little designs on her skin leisurely, taking his time. Her cries were muffled when he kissed her yet again, with the same passion and force as before. He ran his hands along her legs, under her robes, tracing circles on her thighs.
He pushed her against the wall. He could not deny that being like this; seeing her in pain; it aroused him. He strained against her, grinding himself onto her small form. He groaned. Suddenly, his eyes went wide, and he let out a choking gasp. He slumped over onto Hermione, and she pushed him away in disgust. He fell to the ground. Blood soaked the front of his robes. Hermione stood over him, clutching his dagger. She was bruised, cut all over, and shaking, but she smiled in triumph.
"Tough luck, Malfoy. You're such a sucker." She started down the corridor to her dormitory.
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own any of it.
A/n: maybe I'll add a bit of length to this. R/R with what you think.
Footsteps could be heard clamoring down the corridor in an effort to run away. They accelerated faster and faster until they faded into the night. Booming steps sauntered behind, lazily, effortlessly.
"That's right; run little lamb." He smirked.
She stopped for a second to catch her breath. Putting her ear to the wall, she listened for footfalls, her heart skipping like a rabbit's. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned around. She slammed right into something solid and gasped. He towered over her, eyes glinting.
"Fancy meeting you here," his gaze pierced through her, "these games of cat and mouse are really futile, and a waste of perfectly expensive shoe leather. Why don't you just stop running away?" Her breath seemed to be caught in her throat. He could see the terror in her eyes, and it made him grin, showing perfect, sharp, white teeth. She backed away until she was cornered against a wall, nowhere to run, cowering. This only made his smile broaden. He took a lock of her chestnut hair and twirled it in his fingers.
"Why can't I feel anything from anyone but you?" He whispered into her ear, running a finger down her spine. She trembled. Suddenly, he pushed her roughly into the wall. She winced in pain, and grabbed her arm.
"It's all your fault. You must have some kind of potion. What are you doing to me, bitch??" he spat at her. She said nothing. He kicked her in the stomach, making her cough up blood.
"Answer me." He demanded.
"You're such a sucker," she sputtered, her voice hoarse. "You're smitten with me. You follow me around like some lovesick puppy. It's a bit pathetic, don't you think, Draco?" Her lips curled in a mocking smile. She let out a yelp of pain as her grabbed her by the arm and dragged her up to face him. A dribble of blood flowed down her chin. He slapped her with all the force he could muster. It was more of a punch than anything. She staggered back at the force of the blow. A deep, purple-blue bruise formed, covering the entire left side of her face. The other half was encased in shadow.
"You're nothing but a whore. I would never follow you. It's you who wants me. You're doing something to me. You get excited by the mere thought of me, admit it. You want me in your bed like every other girl in this school. You're just a slut; a plaything. You're a bloody disgusting mudblood." He hissed.
"Yet you need me, don't you? You're sick, Malfoy. You're twisted and evil. You're a filthy Death eater, that's all you'll ever be. You make me sick. You act all high and mighty, but you're nothing; nothing but a worm for Voldemort." She sneered at him. He stepped forward, livid with anger, and grabbed her wrist. There was a sickening crack and crunching of bones. He was strong. She cried in pain. He captured her lips in a crushing kiss, making her swoon. She let out a howl as her bit her lip hard; making drops of blood fall to the stone floor. He spat it onto the ground.
He rolled up the sleeve of his silk black robe. She could see it even in the pitch dark. It stood out blackened and singed on his alabaster skin, deadly and evil; The Dark Mark. She gasped and he smirked yet again. He pulled a knife out of his pocket. The blade shone silver in the moonlight. He took her fingertips and traced them over the skull and snake.
"See this, Granger? It is power. Someday, our side will conquer you. The Dark Lord will finally have Potter, and I will kill you with my bare hands." He growled. Her breath paused and it was deathly silent.
"Don't tell me you're afraid, mudblood." He said lazily, dragged the knife over her collarbones, causing blood to spurt in little gushes. He smirked wickedly at the look of pain and terror in her eyes. "I thought Gryfindors weren't supposed to be afraid of anything. You're worthless, Granger. You are just fun to toy with." He cut through her robes, exposing the stark-white flesh of her stomach. He cut little designs on her skin leisurely, taking his time. Her cries were muffled when he kissed her yet again, with the same passion and force as before. He ran his hands along her legs, under her robes, tracing circles on her thighs.
He pushed her against the wall. He could not deny that being like this; seeing her in pain; it aroused him. He strained against her, grinding himself onto her small form. He groaned. Suddenly, his eyes went wide, and he let out a choking gasp. He slumped over onto Hermione, and she pushed him away in disgust. He fell to the ground. Blood soaked the front of his robes. Hermione stood over him, clutching his dagger. She was bruised, cut all over, and shaking, but she smiled in triumph.
"Tough luck, Malfoy. You're such a sucker." She started down the corridor to her dormitory.
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own any of it.
A/n: maybe I'll add a bit of length to this. R/R with what you think.