NOTE: This is an updated version of this story - well, actually, it's the original; I just decided to cut all the back story last time, as I didn't think it was needed. But now, I've decided to post it in all its glory for those of you who wanted more information behind the story. And also to make up for the lack of fanfiction I've been posting lately. Hopefully something new will pop up soon, but for now, you will just have to make do with this. Enjoy. :)
Again, this story was inspired by the song You Said Never Again (But Here We Are) by Rachel Stevens.
Never Again
The house was small. And 'Muggleish', Draco mused. Perfect for little miss Granger; the exact type of place you'd expect to find her living. Or hiding, he corrected himself.
Wrapped in a long black cloak, he was standing in the shade of an old oak tree, his gaze intent upon the small house it stood next to. Despite being summer, the night air was bitingly cool and Draco shivered as a quick breeze rustled the branches behind him.
He shifted quickly, moving closer into the shade, when he noticed some movement through the downstairs window. Peering through the branches, he noticed it was a fluffy ginger cat jumping up on the window sill. Ahh. . .Crookshanks.
This was definitely it then. He'd come to the right place - and after only two weeks of searching, as well. Granger was no way near as clever as people gave her credit for. Or maybe you just know her too well. . .
Smirking now, he moved out from under the tree's shelter and headed towards the gate, which lead round to the back garden. He glanced back at Crookshanks who was now staring right at him. If he wasn't mistaken, the cat had given him a look of what seemed to be recognition and Draco shivered at the thought. . .he'd always hated that blasted cat.
Walking through the gate and shutting it securely behind him, he made his way to the back door, not noticing Crookshanks leap from the window and head upstairs.
Hermione Granger sat and gazed at herself in the mirror, as she lazily ran a comb through her wild hair. She had just changed into her silk nightdress and was now anticipating a good night's sleep - it had been such a long day…
Once again, she had spent the entire day being reminded of how useless she was in the Muggle world. Having been living as a Muggle for the past three weeks, she'd had to adjust to working without a wand, to making new friends all over again, and getting a Muggle job.
Working in a bank was not the most demanding of jobs but the boredom she had to endure throughout the whole day was enough to make her incredibly tired. Having no Muggle qualifications meant starting at the very bottom - pouring coffee for the boss, collecting and stamping mail, that sort of thing. But Hermione had the determination to work her way to the very top of the business ladder and not only did she have the determination to do this but she also had the skills and the intelligence.
Not that her work colleagues helped her any. Every single one of them looked down on her with superiority and sometimes she wanted to cry out with frustration at the feeling of loss she had, that feeling of foreignness. She'd lost count of the amount of times she'd gone to retrieve her wand from her pocket to bewitch the looks of amusement from their faces. . .but then she would have to remind herself that her wand wasn't there, that it hadn't been for a long time and never would be again.
She knew she would feel lost without it, and she knew she would be breaking her last connection to the Wizarding World by doing so, but snapping her wand in two that day had been absolutely crucial. She could no longer remain in that world of darkness and fear. Of course, leaving her friends behind had been one of the hardest things she had ever had to do, but it was a sacrifice she had been willing to make if it meant leaving others behind, also. . .
Thinking of her friends, she instinctively reached for the handle of her dressing table drawer and pulled it open. Reaching under all her bras and knickers, she took out a silver photo frame and stared at the photograph within it. Waving up at her were three, young wizards; one had jet black hair, the other two, flaming red. Harry, Ron and Ginny smiled at her, each holding up a glass of champagne.
Trailing her index finger along the cool frame, she gave her friends a sad smile as she thought about that day. This had been taken on the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding, the summer after her sixth year at Hogwarts. Her last year at Hogwarts.
She had taken the photo, she remembered. It had been such a wonderful day and probably one of happiest they had shared together, despite the evil goings-on. After that, everything had changed. . .
As she looked down at the picture of her old friends, she caught sight of another glint of silver out of the corner of her eye. She looked back at the dresser drawer and saw another photo frame that she kept in there. With shaking hands, she placed the one with Harry, Ron and Ginny down, and reached out to pull the second photo out of the drawer.
This was it - the very reason she had left the Wizarding World in the first place. Her friends all thought it was because of Voldemort and darkness and death…but no. If they ever knew the real reason she had left…well, they would not have been sorry to see her go.
What she had done was unforgivable. Plain and simple. Staring at the blond-haired man in the photograph, she wondered why she even bothered keeping it at all. This wizard had destroyed her life and she despised him for it. And yet, she still couldn't let go. . .
Stuffing the only remaining evidence that proved she was a witch back into the drawer, she sniffed and picked up her hairbrush once more, returning to her mass of tangled hair.
Just as she had managed to untangle a very stubborn knot of hair, she got a fright as her cat, Crookshanks, leapt onto her lap.
"Crookshanks!" she cooed, stroking the cat's ginger fur lightly. "You gave mummy a fright, so you did!"
Crookshanks looked up at her with wide eyes and Hermione suddenly sensed that something was wrong. "Crookshanks?"
Watching him as he leapt from her lap and onto the floor, she heard a loud thud come from downstairs and she immediately shot to her feet. Crookshanks stopped at the bedroom door and looked back at Hermione, giving her a look that seemed to say, 'Well, come on then!' It sometimes scared her how intelligent her cat appeared to be.
Keeping a tight hold of the hairbrush, she moved towards the door and out into the hall, before following Crookshanks downstairs.
At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything out of proportion. Although, Hermione supposed that might be because the place was shrouded in darkness. As she walked into her living room, she reached out and flicked the light switch on, jumping in fright at who she saw standing before her.
He was standing there in a long, black cloak, his blond hair hanging loosely around his face making him look as good as ever. Draco Malfoy was standing in her living room and he was smirking right at her.
She could not believe it. Her eyes widened.
"Wh-How did you get in here?" she asked, her voice unusually high-pitched.
"Back door," he replied, casually.
"But. . .I locked the back door."
Draco raised an eyebrow at her, and she felt very stupid when he began to twirl his wand in his hands. Not only did she feel stupid, but she suddenly felt very vulnerable - she had no wand to help her if she needed it.
Not that he would hurt her, of course. He wouldn't do that.
Would he?
"What are you doing here, Dr-?" She stopped.
There had been a time when she could say it but now the name 'Draco' felt as foreign on her tongue as it has when they were school children. Although, she supposed, there were so many things that felt foreign to her now.
"- Malfoy?" she finished.
"Too afraid to say the name, Granger?" he sneered, and she had to look away from the smug expression on his face. "Too many memories, eh?"
"What are you talking about?" She turned back to look at him.
"Well, as I recall it," Draco said, "you had no problem with screaming out the name whenever we - "
"Don't," she lifted a finger at him, "even finish that sentence."
He shrugged nonchalantly and walked over to the mantelpiece, eying each object closely. "Okay, I won't," he told her. "But at least you knew what I was going to say."
She could have slapped him when he winked at her (and herself when she felt a jolt of excitement at the pit of her stomach).
"H-how did you find me?" she asked incredulously.
"Oh, you know, Granger," he smiled, "contacts at the ministry and all that."
Turning back to the fireplace, he observed the ornaments and picture frames just like a small child trying to figure out its surroundings. He'd obviously not seen many of these Muggle items before but just realising that they came under the heading 'Muggle' was enough to make his lip curl with disgust.
"What is this, anyway?" he asked, prodding one of the photographs with his wand. "Pictures that don't even move?"
"Leave that picture alone," she gritted her teeth. "You'll. . .ruin it."
Taking his eyes away from the photo, he looked back at her and, for a moment, she saw what looked like concern etched across his face. But in a flash it was gone, as realisation hit him.
"Aah. . .this must be your parents, then?" He smiled as he picked up the frame and looked down at the old couple in the photograph.
Hermione breathed in deeply. "Look, what did you come here for, Malfoy?"
"Whoa, why are we changing the subject?"
"Because you," she charged toward him, her hairbrush raised above him, "you of all people, have no right, no right whatsoever, to talk about my parents!" She was right up at his face now, her own face burning red with anger.
Looking rather indifferent to her outburst - which only frustrated her even more - he casually turned around and placed the photo frame back in its place on the mantelpiece.
"You still blame me for that, do you?" he muttered, smirking. "After all this time, and I'm still the reason for your mum and dad being dead?"
"As good as!" she spat. "It was your father, a member of your family. . .it-it was all connected to you!"
She didn't know when she had started to cry but her cheeks and nose were wet with tears and a strand of her bushy brown hair had fallen forward and was now stuck to her cheek. She was just about to raise a hand to wipe it away when Draco beat her to it.
"Funnily enough," he sneered, his hand cupping her face, "that didn't stop you from shagging me on the night of their funeral, did i-"
"Aaargh!"
Before he could finish, she had tore his hand away from her face, shoved him forward and hit her hairbrush over his head with as much force as she could muster. She wasn't going to let the fact of not having a wand stop her from causing him as much physical harm as there was possible.
Yes, it was true - she had slept with him on the night of her parents' funeral, and yes, she had enjoyed every single second of it, but she would rather die than admit that to him. She had never felt so guilty, she had never regretted anything more in her life than she did when she awoke to find his slender form lying next to her, his gorgeous blond eyelashes flickering as he slept. . .
That was what had done it - waking up and seeing him there was like a wake-up call to her and she knew she needed to get away from him as quickly as possible. She had taken it too far this time. Sleeping with a man whose father had just killed her own parents - on the night of their funeral? What had she been thinking? How could she possibly live with herself after that?
And yet, she couldn't help but remind herself that she had needed someone that night, needed someone to hold her and keep her safe, someone familiar. . .
Oh, yes. . .Draco was familiar, all right.
"Granger! Stop it!"
Weeks and weeks of pent-up anger was now being released as Hermione continuously hit Draco over the head with her hairbrush. He had stuffed his wand back into his robes and was now trying to grab her wrists to refrain her from hitting him any longer.
He had vowed never to use physical force against her, but now, it looked as though it was needed. Crouching down and wrapping his arms around her lower-half, he picked her up and smashed her against the wall, holding her there while he threw the hairbrush to the ground (Crookshanks scurried away, frightened).
"Now, now, Granger," he gasped huskily. "Don't make me hurt you."
"You wouldn't dare!" she spat, her breathing fast.
"No?" he cocked his head to one side. She couldn't help but notice that he had slid his right leg in-between her thighs.
"No," she repeated, "you wouldn't. As much as I hate to admit it, I know you too well, Malfoy, and I know you would never do that to me."
There was a pause, as he observed her. "Do what?" he asked. "Rape you?"
It was clear from the flicker of fear in her eyes that that had been exactly what she was talking about. Draco tilted his head back and laughed manically.
"Oh, Granger, the only reason I never hurt you was because I never needed to. . .you were always willing to give it to me."
"LET GO OF ME!" she screamed.
She did not want to hear this, she really didn't. Not only was she starting to feel scared of him, but she was starting to feel ashamed because it was the truth. She had given into him every single time.
And she felt disgusted with herself for that.
"No," he told her quietly, not budging, "because I know you don't want me to." She shivered as he whispered the last part into her ear.
"How do you know what I want?" she bit out, her heart beating faster than normal.
It was almost silent as he looked into her eyes; the only sounds being made were that of Draco and Hermione's heavy breathing. She blushed under his gaze.
"Because I always know what you want," he said, finally answering the question.
She could feel herself starting to relax now and she hated herself for it. Everything was starting to feel all too familiar now - it was so wrong and yet. . .
He was running his fingers along her outer thigh, every so often lifting her nightdress up just a little bit more. . .
"I know what makes you tick," he whispered into her ear. "I know everything about you. . .I know how to make. . .you. . .scream."
Hermione let out a loud gasp as he lowered his hand and began touching her in the most intimate way possible…in the most intimate place, possible. She threw her head back and felt pain as it collided with the wall behind her. . .but the pleasure she was feeling now was compensating for that.
"Ooh. . .please, don't," she managed to say, although she made no move as to stop him.
"You want this," he told her, as he began trailing kisses along her collarbone. Every part of her skin his mouth touched suddenly felt as though it were on fire and she could feel the passion raging through her. She was under his spell now and there was nothing she could do about it.
"Just admit it," he gasped in between kisses. "You want me, Hermione."
And that was it. Just the mention of her proper name was all it took and suddenly nothing mattered to her anymore. Ripping the cloak from his back, she jumped up, wrapping her legs around him. Suddenly, his lips were on hers and she was pushed up against the wall, all thought and calculation a million miles away. . .
Yes. She wanted this. She wanted, craved, and needed everything that was Draco Malfoy.
Yes, it was wrong, but when she felt him inside of her it was as if she had come home again. Everything about this was all wrong, and yet it felt so right. . .
She hated it.
But she loved it.
She'd said never again. . .but there they were, once more.
- The End.
