Chapter Two: Wanton Desire

"Vile wretch!" she snarled as he plucked her small form from the ground. A cruel smiled played across his face while he tugged her along. "Let go!" Trying to brace herself against the ground, she slipped, her feet in flimsy sandals sliding in the gathering mud. Her only option, make him fight. She let her legs collapse; he would have to drag her. A callous laugh burst from his lips and felt like razors trailing down her spine. Hanging limp for a moment in his arms, she was stunned at this heartless expression. It was all he needed, and he pulled her upright, forcing her along with the wet crimson cloak slapping painfully against her bare calves.

"Cretin!" the word spat in his face as she slammed the heel of her hand against his chest when they paused in the shelter of the castle veranda. He only seemed amused, stilling her struggling arms with his large hands.

"Now, now, Granger! Such words are not fit for a young lady's delicate mouth!" His fingers, the skin softer than what it should have been, gracefully brushed her bottom lip, a bare touch.

"Don't touch me," she said breathlessly, pulling away from his electrifying fingers. He sighed, feigning a hurt expression.

"You wound me! Is my touch really so repulsive?" The question surprised her, but she ignored it, posing her own.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why, I couldn't leave you out in the rain, you would have caught your death!" he voice was teasing, mocking. The idea was to feel better, you bloody imbecile, she thought. I wonder what he would think if he knew…I wonder what he would say.

"Leave. Just leave," it was almost a whimper.

"What were you doing, Granger? Why were you willing to let the storm take you away?"

"It's none of your concern."

"Come now, you must tell me," he laughed, his head dipping slightly to stare into her eyes.

Gold and silver. Silver and gold. It was frightening, and she tried to shrink away.

"How did you get so much gold in your eyes?" He blinked, those black lashes stroking his cheeks.

"Don't, Malfoy," she whispered, willing him to leave her. He laughed again, gentler this time, careful. His laugh was careful.

"Don't what, mon cher?" she shuddered at the endearment, and felt her fear beginning to build. He wasn't being Malfoy.

She felt she couldn't breathe. For once in all eternity, Hermione Granger was at a loss for words. What a perfect time to be.

"Don't what?" he repeated, stepping closer, the hem of his black peek-a-boo shirt brushing her hips. Hermione couldn't help but stare. The shirt was long, expensive silk, with a v-neck, dipping to mid-chest, and was supposed to have been tied at the throat. He hadn't bothered with it. Malfoy's pale skin, his lean, sculpted chest peeped through, making her stomach drop to her feet.

"Don't get so close. Stop that." Hermione pressed herself against the beam of the veranda. "Stop acting so unlike yourself."

"Mon cher, how would you know what I'm like?" he stepped closer still, just painful inches from her rapidly warming body. A blush ran up her cheeks.

"I know you hold no niceties for me. Please step away!" her voice, to her dismay, peaked with a desperate tone. Tempted to push him away, she wasn't sure how she'd react with him under her hands at that second.

The tension was so strong, so unbelievably fierce; she almost reached out, despite her fear and determination. His eyes followed her hand's path, those silver eyes smoldering with a desire she didn't care to know more about. He watched as her palm came up, fingers spread wide as if to lie against his chest, and yet, to ward him off simultaneously. Another smile, another damn smile that was so malicious, danced across his mouth as he closed the distance between them, striding into her waiting hand.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered in almost a frenzied panic when his smooth, chiseled body molded against her soft curves. Only her trembling hand unwillingly pressed against his chest kept her face from being tucked into that bare "v" of skin.

"Because I can, Granger. Because I can have you. I can have you with the flick of my wrist." He demonstrated so, flicking his fingers up her arm, across her collar bone, to rest lightly against her cheek. A flush stained them, and he traced the color.

"No!" The word burst from her lips, and she jerked her face away, successfully bashing her head against the stone pillar she was pressed against. He'd backed her up. She was trapped. His laugh reached her ears again, and goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold, spread across her pale skin. To her disappointment, tears began to fill her eyes, with physical hurt and humiliation. I won't cry! I refuse to cry in front of this monster! She chanted to herself, avoiding his amused eyes.

His fingers trailed away from her face to tangle themselves in her wet curls; his other floated up to her right cheek, and turned her face to his. The tears threatened to overflow, glistening in her gold eyes at the sight of his cold, but lustful ones. She jumped when his thumb briefly touched her cheek bones. They moved agonizingly slow, sketching slow circles, marking their path up to her eyes. With a gentle force, they pressed the lower lids, and compelled the lingering tears into take the plunge, dripping. A shuddering gasp fled, and on the edge of insanity, she managed to grasp a little of her mind, keeping it together just a little longer.

Suddenly, his face was next to hers, lips following the tear stains, soaking up the salty trails. "Why tears, Hermione?" he asked. Reluctantly, her eyes fluttered closed.

"Because you're killing me. Happy?" His chuckle was low and breathy, and she could feel it in his chest, in her chest.

"Forbidden fruit is so delightful, Hermione." His lips moved across her nose, skipping her mouth to her chin. Oh, how she longed to feel them against her own. Despite her moral obligations, she reveled in her moment of insanity. "Don't you want to taste it?"

Hermione felt herself begin to nod, and caught herself before the motion went further. She felt him smile and almost dropped to her knees when those torturous lips touched hers so lightly, so briefly, it was like a mist.

Unexpectedly…he was gone. Hermione opened her eyes, and he was standing far away, cool and collected; it was as if he wasn't there at all.

"Let me know when you do."

Gone.