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Jezebel turned as she heard the fat lady's portrait opening. She gasped when she saw who was at the door. He was beautiful, something out of a book or painting or one of those Muggle music videos that would start Rasheid thundering his ''fire and brimstone' rants. Shimmering dove-blond hair fell over his face, and his pointed chin was aristocratic and proud.

If Jezebel could love someone as much as she loved herself, it would be this boy.

"Who are you?" she asked hesitatingly. She hadn't seen him at the Gryffindor table and he didn't have a House tie on. He couldn't be a Gryffindor anyway. He was too beautiful and, so far, none of the boys in her House had attracted her as much as this one.

"I'm Draco," he said. His voice was like liquid sex, and Jezebel knew this, as her own was the same. (AN: But female, ya'll. She doesn't have a manly voice.) "And you're Jezebel."

She could have swooned. He knew her name!

Jezebel put a hand on the couch to steady her and watched Draco, the Adonis, walk toward her. He practically sparkled. The air around him seemed to compress, sucking the breath right out of her lungs and into the emptying void of space around her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, with such a handsome specimen so close. It was every forbidden fantasy come to life, every wet dream and naughty hallucination walking towards her.

Desperately, she hoped he was a Pureblood. She would be oh so disappointed if he turned out to be a Mudblood or half-blood. Right now, she wanted to owl her mother and tell her she had met her future husband. To hell with an engagement. They would elope as soon as possible!! Love at first sight had never seemed so real, her experience with boys no match for this… this man in front of her.

She felt her heart flutter like it was made of tiny butterfly wings when he came to stand before her. He was so lovely, the planes of his face smooth and the gaze in his eyes as fierce as an eagle. She knew he could probably cut someone down with just a glance from those liquid silver orbs. She wouldn't have been surprised if he told her he modeled during the summer.

She hoped it was for one of the naughty magazines, the type that Rasheid railed about and condemned. To her brother's consternation, she would be the first in queue to buy a nude magazine with Draco in it.

"Hi," she said, her voice coming out breathless as she gazed upon the Greek god standing before her. He had to be Eros with the way he made her hands shake as if she was one hundred and inflicted with palsy.

"What are you doing up so late, little girl?" Draco asked smoothly, eyeing her as if she was a steak. If that were the case, she wanted to be savored only by him.

She blinked, unable to comprehend the question fully. Her gaze whipped around the common room. What had she been doing out here so late?

Oh yeah…

"I was Owling my mother," she answered when her eyesight went to the pen and paper on the coffee table in front of the couch. Then, she frowned and turned to frown at the boy, her attraction forgotten.

"What are you doing up so late?" she demanded.

"As you probably already know, Jezebel," he said, purring her name. Her knees almost gave out from the pure lust that he put into her name. She had never known a man as full of mystery as this one; someone who could make her knees weak and her heart beat faster. She barely heard his words, the "important" and "do something important for the Headmaster" and the "highly influential" passing her by as does a dazzling flutterby as she stared at his moving lips.

"Oh," she breathed when he finally stopped speaking. He was obviously an important person in some way to Hogwarts. The knowledge that someone of such power had come here for her--she could tell he was no Gryffindor--was an orchestra to the ears.

"You have something…" she said coyly, and reached out to swipe the drop of liquid on his pouty lower lip. She held his gaze, the moment so profound it stopped time. The drop of liquid--cold on her fingertip--stuck to her and she brought it to her lips as he held his breath. His eyes, those silver, steamy orbs, watched with barely contained heat as her tongue came out to taste what she had found. She closed her eyes knowing his were glued to her, and pretended to savor the liquid. It had a weird, spoiled taste--like bad milk, one that she would usually cringe and gag at, but she ignored it for the knowledge of the power she held in the blond's eyes.

Turning her gaze to the floor demurely, she looked through her eyelashes at him. She knew she looked the picture of virgin saints, and licked her lips at how dirty the thoughts running through her head were.

"Do you…" Jezebel started and Draco held his breath. "want to see my dormitory?"

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She led him by the hand, and though his was sweaty because of how affected he was by her sultry, wild aura, she didn't let go. She might have wanted to wipe the dampness off on her designer jeans, but resisted the urge and held the disgust in tightly.

She was determined to have the wizard, sweat or no— as her mission was now: Fuck, Draco Malfoy!

(AN: Poor Jez… waiting until marriage is important. She's just confused, DON'T WORRY. I recommend reading the Twilight series for a good dose of good morals—even though Meyers is a Mormon and not a Christian…)

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"Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, and do such bitter business as the day would quake to look on," Rasheid recited, using both of his hands to push against Slytherin's common room door.

He knew he wasn't the only one out committing evil; Draco Malfoy's bed … empty.

Rasheid had been careful to pull back the curtains slowly, peering inside the canopy with one blazing, violet orb, and then inspecting the glossy, green sheets that were without dent of the resting. His face had quickly turned almost the same colour of said brilliant eye as he'd confirmed his suspicions.

That pureblooded monstrosity would need to rethink agnosticism if he were anywhere near Jezebel once Rasheid got hold of him.

Crimson red obscured his vision in splotchy halos, stretching and expanding until his breath came short, and his whole body shook.

Rasheid huffed, letting the stone door glide shut behind him, and tried to slow his heartbeat.

"He who angers you, conquers you."

The red ebbed into a vision of his mother, the words echoing inside his skull like metal hitting glass. Jezebel would probably laugh if he were to tell her he often thought of their mother's rebukes when angry, as those rebukes were almost never spoken to him— no, more often than not it was Jezebel's outrages that caused the lectures. But they resonated inside Rasheid all the same.

"Breathe," he murmured, and then slowly sucked in, holding the air a second, and then exhaling. "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath…."

Perhaps he'd be wrong after all, as Draco might have some sort of duties for which he was unaware. He tried to hold onto that hope, a pinprick of flickering light which dimmed inside him as if it were a dam against a great gush of nauseating panic. There was no time for mindless terror, not when he had no clue as to where he was going.

Rasheid walked quickly and stealthily down the corridor, his feet light on the flagstones.

"Stop—" a deep voice snarled, and Rasheid Van Hol Amore all but froze, his left hand automatically diving for the wand he kept snuggled against his Bible.

He spun in place quickly, like a horse cutting cattle, thrusting his silken wood from its confines and pointing it straight at whomever had spoken.

Only shadows greeted him.

"Show yourself, please," Rasheid demanded softly, trying to ignore the way his wand seemed to throb against his palm, heat radiating in waves through him.

Anxiety always relocated ones pulse point to the oddest of places.

"Ungfh," the same voice groaned, and a strange rickety sound filtered into the hallway.

Rasheid paused for a moment more, trying to discern just where the noise derived from, before shaking himself and straightening. He didn't have time for these shenanigans! He must check on his angel faced sister before a certain albino devil preyed on her purity…

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Hermione Granger lay rigid in her bed, sweat beading around her hairline and temples pounding. Through a small gap in the red hangings of her four poster bed she watched fluorescent bodies intertwine, weaving and writhing like pale snakes against blood tinged clouds.

"Hurry up," pleaded Malfoy, words laden with desperation.

Hermione's knees quivered, the hand cupping her moistness tightening as though trying to shield.

"But you look so sexy pinned against my sheets," that ugly, whorish creature replied teasingly.

Hermione made a face, wishing that one of the other girl's had snuck in Draco for the show. She didn't really like any of them either, but watching that Amore beast have him made something inside her shrivel and die. Not that anyone was holding a gun to her head and whispering "Observe closely or I'll kill you", but that hardly mattered.

Her eyes remained glued to the scene.

"Please," Draco breathed. "I've wanted you for so long…"

Quite the liar, Hermione thought, but her fingers instinctively pushed inside her creamy wet orifice and she stifled a groan, imagining that those words were being whispered against her skin— not the banshee from France.

"Oh!" Hermione yelped as her muscles convulsed around slender digits, horror spiking through her at being heard as a loud BANG!! echoed through the room.

She sat bolt upright in a dizzying rush, the exclamation of denial on her lips drowned out by a thundering boom.

"Get off my sister!"

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Red.

Red— it all was red.

Rasheid pointed his wand, mind a flurry of erubescent light, as fury flared with the force of a thousand fiery suns.

"No, Ra!" Jezebel shrieked.

The sight of his beloved sister cowering before him made each sun feel as if it had been plunged into an icy ocean of guilt. Everything tightened, from his throat to his abdomen, and his arm wavered, wand drooping within his fingers.

"What are you doing?" he moaned, pain flooding the places fury had been— a sea of razorblades shredding every organ within him.

She wasn't underneath that devil, she was above him.

His eyes caught first on her gleaming collarbone, the softness of skin pushed out by hardness of bone, and then down to her bare breasts, rosebud nipples hardened and glistening.

A sickening heat expanded within his gut.

"It's not what you think!" Jezebel whispered urgently, her eyes glancing around at the curtained beds surrounding them.

"Ye—" the albino devil started, but was cut off by Jezebel slamming a palm into his face.

"I think someone cast something on him, Ra! I found him wandering around here … wait!" Rasheid was cut off as he tried to interject. "He seemed confused, so I did the only thing I could and wrestled him down!

It's no ones fault except the vile person who befuddled him!"

Rasheid frowned, his eyes trained on his sister's jade-purple irises. She really seemed to believe what she was telling him, and he knew his sister didn't lie— least of all to him.

"Why …?" Rasheid faltered, his face flushing, eyes diverting to the floor.

He couldn't ask her why she was nude— it made a strange tingly sensation spread through him … made him want to flee the room. Instead he recited, "Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid ... for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee."

"Well are you going to help me, or go?" Jezebel whispered.

He didn't like how she emphasized the last word, like she didn't need his help, didn't want him here.

"Of course I will help you."

With smooth efficient steps he strode to her, trying to ignore her nudity, pressing one light hand to her shoulder. She stared at him a moment, and then with a huff moved away, allowing him to grasp the throat of the boy under her.

"Up," Rasheid demanded.

Draco, who'd remained silent ever since receiving a mouthful of Jezebel's palm, spluttered, "She's lying—"

Rasheid squeezed, a gush of air sounding as Draco's words died.

"Don't test me," Rasheid hissed.

"Ra, please— he's been confunded."

Draco rose as Rasheid tugged, his pale body shimmering in the dim light. Rasheid felt a new wave of sickness crush him as he noticed the absolute lack of clothing covering the boy.

"Did he—" he choked, unable to ask his sister the question burning his brain to ash.

"No!" Jezebel rose too, standing beside her brother and Draco, eyes wide and innocent.

"I'd kill you," Rasheid murmured to the boy, anger hardening each word. "I would kill you if you'd tainted her. I don't give two shits about who hexed you!"

With a snarl he threw the albino devil towards the doorway, pleased as Draco's body landed against the flagstones with a satisfying crunch.

"Ra, don't!" Jezebel yelped, her delicate hands gripping his arm, pulling. "You're scaring me!"

Shame jolted through him like an electric current of God's wrath, and his whirring emotions dulled, making him turn to her with pleading eyes.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you more than anything in this world. And I would, will, do whatever it takes to protect you."

His cheek burnt as her lips brushed it, a symbol of their truce. She wasn't angry with him; she knew he was only looking out for her. It made every wound inside him stitch, every doubt within him dissolve.

He didn't even notice as Draco picked himself off the floor to flee.

His sister loved him, and that was all that mattered.

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(AN: AWWW… see, told you not to worry! They love each other so much, and Ra will help Jez see what's right. Leave us good reviews!!)