A/N: So, I was inspired, one day, as I procrastinated studying for finals. It was worth it. I used an OC, but she is really just a 'nobody'. This is a simple oneshot and I needed characters. The story was or more importance than the characters. Hope you like it :D

Disclaimer:I don't own anything Harry Potter/characters. And I don't care to own the character I made up; I'll just keep the plot.

The dinner took place a week before the wedding. Everyone was there. His parents, who had held the event, her parents, who were graciously accepted, friends, aunts, uncles, cousins, and some people that Charlotte didn't even know.

She sat beside her intended looking around at the table. The women wore light fancy dresses, each one modestly cut; men in their lightly pressed shirts, vests, most of them a silk number, and a matching tie. It was too hot around all the scalding food and body heat to be wearing the matching jackets.

Charlotte had been sitting quietly, her one helping of monsieur de beof finished, while her intended made polite conversation as he worked on a second helping. The soft pink dress she wore received many compliments from everyone, the most sincere and endearing being from her intended, at least the one he had said out loud, in front of the guests.

She turned her gaze to her plate; her mind completely elsewhere the moment dinner had started. She couldn't stop thinking about the soft lights, the touches, the heat, but it wasn't enough to make her blush. "Excuse me, please," she said to her to-be mother-in-law, something about powdering her nose.

Walking away from the table, she didn't know where she was heading, but she was glad to be away from everything. She was thinking of going to her room, just for a while, when his had clamped around her upper arm. "Walk," he whispered, and she obliged, allowing him to lead her towards the east wing of the house.

He pushed her through a heavy wooden door, the library. He closed the door, slowly, carefully locking it.

Every step that he took towards her, she took one back.

She saw the glint in his silver eyes and remembered what he had whispered to her about her dress, he had waited for everyone else to start walking towards the parlor, to ensure that only she would hear. "I can't wait to rip that thing off of you."

She had walked back and was in between two shelves laden with heavy leather-bound volumes. He was teasing her before, now he reached out and grabbed her waist; she couldn't move away anymore. He kissed her softly, and she stayed unresponsive. He pulled back, stormy eyes glaring into her doe like expression.

His hand on her waist traveled up her body, over her chest, to her exposed neck. It stayed there fiddling with her rose sapphire earrings before, with the tips of his fingers, he traced down her neck, along the neckline of her dress, down the middle of her breasts, and stopped right on her abdomen. He pressed down his hand flat against her and pushed, propelling her backwards. Again she obliged.

He had continued until she found her back against a shelf, one that bordered the walls of the library. Her intended didn't move his hand from her stomach, it still pressed into her, not meant to hurt her.

"Draco?" she said, unsure of what had come over him. He couldn't have her, not yet, not until their wedding night. They were both magically bound.

Draco didn't say anything, he instead leaned in and began to kiss, suck, tease, the skin under her ear. She let him do so, she endured, but then she felt his other hand on her thigh, right above her knee. One hand placed on her abdomen, keeping her in place, the other making circular patterns on her thigh. But she wasn't fooled; his tracing fingers were gradually moving up, slowly making their way under her dress. She shut her eyes tightly, she knew where his fingers were going and she didn't want him touching her, not there. His lips had migrated up to her earlobe, playing with the earring clasping with his tongue, his breath was hot as he breathed onto her skin. And his fingers, they never stopped moving, teasing as they went up, retreating down a little and then continuing back up.

She turned her head to the side, eyes tightly closed; his mouth was still playing with her ear. The hand on her stomach pushed down a little more, causing her breathing to become shallow. She felt his fingers, on her inner thigh centimeters away from her white cotton panties, and unable to control it, she emitted a quiet whimper.

That was all it took.

His fingers froze and his lips let go of her earlobe. He felt her body tense under him, and he finally let his anger flare.

"Tell me," he whispered into her ear, like it was a microphone, "Tell me the words you said to him." Charlottes eyes snapped open, "Go ahead, say it!" he hissed and again his fingers continued onward, but slower, threatening her.

She didn't respond, her head didn't turn, her legs didn't close, denying him, and she didn't say a word.

Draco accepted her confession.

His fingers made their way into her underwear and began to stroke her. He was satisfied with the reaction. Her body reacted, even though she didn't want to. She began to move under him, her body pushing against his hand on her midsection

"Say the words: 'Do what you want, I'm yours.'" he told her, and she knew it was the only way he would stop.

But she wasn't his, legally maybe, but she belonged to the black hair, charming smile, Harry. But he wouldn't take her; he refused to despite what they both knew, refused to because of what he knew. She needed him to, it had to be him, there was only a week left. She wanted to be his, before anyone else's.

And now Draco knew.

She could hear it in his voice, "Say it Charlotte." He growled, and when she didn't, he plunged into her, and the growing moan that she had been forcing down escaped. "Go on, tell me," he said in a low voice.

Charlotte's legs began to quake and her hands that had stayed at her side before, were now desperate to grip onto something. Her right hand extended and found the shelf behind her for support. The left hand had grabbed a fistful of the front of Draco's vest.

She gave in. "Do what-," she tried, but her voice had become shaky, "Do what you- ahh, Draco!" Her eyes rolled back for a second. Draco wasn't surprised; it was a virgin's reaction.

"What were you saying?" he taunted her to continue. He stopped his fingers allowing her to breathe and once she was able to focus on him again he recommenced.

"Draco! Do what you want!" Her voice was almost screaming.

"And?" he pressed

"I'm-," her back arched, pushing her body even more intensely against his hand on her stomach. "I'm yours," she finally gasped.

His fingers finally came out and she felt the warmth as he pressed them along her collar bone, she felt the wet as he went up along her neck. She found herself still panting, hands still on him and the shelf behind her.

His mouth went up to her ear again, "That's right you whore," he snarled, "You are mine, and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you." Tears coated Charlotte's eyes. "And stay away from him," he warned, his lips closer, grazing her ear as he whispered, "Because if I find you popped a week from tonight, I'll know exactly who to go after."

He stepped away and shoved her away with the hand on her abdomen, the one he had used to keep her from moving.

She fell hard, her legs had still been uneasy. He turned away, hands in his pockets, and left her there on the lush carpeted floor of the library.

Her tears finally spilled over.

I really never write sexual scenes, I usually just imply it and leave the rest to a reader's imagination. So if there is anything amiss, anything at all, don't hesitate to point it out for me, unless it's not a big deal I guess.
If I ever think of another oneshot for HP, it will be added onto here as a chapter, so everything is in one place.

Thanks for reading. :)

Reviews are greatly appreciated. :D