Disclaimer: I do not own HP, Draco or Hermione and make no money off of this. It's just for fun, people!

Happy St. Valentine's Day!

Prompt: Bittersweet Kiss

Third Year: Waiting for the Prisoner of Azkaban

Word Count: 440

Warnings: extortion/blackmail

"Granger, a word, if you do not mind," came the snide remark from down the hall.

Actually, she did mind, but as he approached she saw a knowing glint in his eyes. Better find out what he wants.

"I have the displeasure of talking to you about what, Malfoy?" she asked with fake sweetness.

Draco decided to ignore the jibe in exchange for future indulgences. "I have recently become aware that you are in possession of a powerful artifact."

Crap. Fake uninterest.

"Malfoy, I don't know what presumptuous nonsense is floating around in your head, but I can assure you it's wrong."

"Do not play coy with me, Bookworm," he snapped at her. "I know you have been using a Time Turner to get to all of your classes, although how you obtained such a rare Pureblood item is still a mystery." Obviously by the slight shift of his head and narrowing of his eyes, he had his suspicions.

"What business is it of yours if I take a few extra classes?" Hermione desperately tried to get him off topic as no one was supposed to know about that, but the ploy was futile.

"I could turn you in to the Ministry for keeping such a secret." He was relishing her widening stare and increased breathing. "You would be in loads of trouble, but I can help you out of this situation. I can keep secrets too, you know."

She jumped at the chance to keep this quiet. "What are you proposing?"

"You let me kiss you, here, now, and I will keep your confidence." Sensing victory, that slanted, smug smile was plastered all over his face.

Hermione was torn between ire and dread for there was really only one answer. She nodded her assent.

Draco latched one hand around the back of her slim neck sending a jolt of sensation through her system. Before her initial trembling could cease, he smashed his lips onto her mouth. It was tingly and warm but harsh and the overpowering scent of patchouli had her gagging. She closed her eyes tight in mortification. He snuck his other hand over her midriff to her hips to stop her from bolting, which caused another tremor to coarse through her body. Her heartbeat sped up as his tongue licked over her lips. This was her first true kiss and she was stuck spending it with her hated rival. She wanted to die. Or, better yet, hex him into oblivion.

He broke the kiss, removing his hands from her person. "Well, at least, you don't taste like Mud," he said and walked off.

Hermione burst into tears.