Never Again

Tinsadisaster

Summary: She loved him. Now it's time to move on with her life. DMHG

Author's Note:

I was reading over a couple of my abandoned stories and I figured, "Why not at least attempt to finish them?"

Mind you, I wrote the majority of these stories about three or four years ago while falling out of like with this dirtbag of a guy. I had enough angst for a thousand subpar stories. This was one of them that had good potential so I picked it up again. There's a pattern with the structure of this story. There's a shift in POV from first to third and then back to first. Please don't be too confused. It's just how I originally wrote this story, so to be consistent, I'm sticking with it.

Warning: This is my lame attempt at Dark Menacing Draco. I swear Hermione has a backbone. It's just somewhere else at the time. She's going to find it, though. I'll make sure of it.

A few references I'd like to point out – there's a line from an Incubus song, I think, somewhere in this chapter. Also, the quote comes from Adele's song "Set Fire To The Rain" which is from her newest album, 21. If you haven't heard of her music yet, please do yourself a favor and youtube it. You will not be disappointed.

And so this chapter begins. Hate it. Love it. Just review it.

My hands, they're strong, but my knees were far too weak,

To stand in your arms without falling to your feet,

But there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew,

All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true,

And the games you'd play, you would always win, always win.

Adele

Some flames take time to do their damage. A faulty wire must be exposed and triggered before the first spark flies. That little spark catches onto the furniture and soon the flame grows like a monster determined for destruction and injury. Pretty soon, the monster gets what it wants and an entire home can be barbequed.

Family portraits crunch and melt. Dusty stuffed animals, saved more for the memories linked to them than their actual physical attributes or monetary value, are snacks for the monster with a fiery appetite. Beds are engulfed and slowly char under the pressure.

Entire lives are digested and what remains is ashes and tragedy.

You could say this was an illustration for what we had, but then again, I was always more eloquent than you. You merely brushed off our escapade of a relationship like a daydream during lunch – only filler, not the real deal, easily forgotten.

So I stood within the home of our relationship. I watched you ignite the spark that touched everything we ever had, and stared holes into your back as you retreated. For a while, I forgot about my health and safety. I rushed from room to room, trying to hold onto things that turned to dust in my hands.

Eventually the roof collapsed on my head and only then did I realize that I was too far gone to be saved.

But I was saved, by the people whose warnings I deterred.

They carried me away from us, but I was not willing. I was kicking and screaming, pleading to be released so I could jump back into the fire.

But they held onto me and I went limp, keeping my eyes open, trying to memorize what had been ours.

And I wondered… Did you even care to look over your shoulder at all?

The silence I received after the flames had died and the ashes disintegrated were a clear enough sign to me that you hadn't.

Hermione waited for Malfoy's signal, as sickening as it was. She tried to go on with her days, feigning interest with Harry and Ron at the breakfast table and attending classes with people they knew, but she was constantly looking around, hoping he was looking for her too.

He wasn't.

He continued living as he did. He swaggered down the hallways with his gang of friends, pale hands in his pockets, steel-gray eyes looking at everything but her. He appeared apathetic in class while she was so nervous she felt like throwing up out of sheer anxiety.

She wanted nothing to do with him, but she lived for a single glance, a rude acknowledgement of her existence, and most importantly, a stolen touch to reassure her that what happened between them was not just a dark revelry.

He was the spider and she was the prey. He stood still while she came closer, not knowing that he planned to make a meal out of her.

But he always did have a problem with her blood.

After almost a month of nothing, Hermione brushed off the Malfoy issue and settled down to what she was certain of: Ron's blooming crush on her, the presence of textbooks and homework, and Harry's teenage angst.

During breakfast, she made a comment that hurt Harry's sensitive feelings. He made sure to emphasize his angry tone, roaring like the Gryffindor he was inside.

"You just don't understand what I'm going through, Hermione! You know nothing!" he hollered. Hermione stared at him, counting to ten in her mind.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

"If you'd been in my position. If you had been as alone as I felt… if you could only imagine… but then again, I suppose you think you do. You're wrong, Hermione. You just won't admit it. Piss off."

Harry grabbed his bag and stood up melodramatically. He waited for Ron to realize that he had to leave too. The redhead, oblivious to Harry's antics, was slathering jam on his toast. His head was elsewhere, as it always was.

"Ron, let's go!"

Ron sighed and reluctantly stood up, not forgetting to pick up a few slices of toast and a piece of fruit first. He didn't believe in starving just because Harry was having a bad day and needed someone to agree with everything he needed to vent about.

"See ya Mione," Ron said before leaving with Harry.

The other Gryffindors, entertained by the drama of the morning, turned back to their meals. Hermione tried to remember exactly what she said to set off the Angry Potter alarm.

Ginny, who was sitting next to her during the entire scene, gave her a sideways glance.

"What did I say wrong, Ginny?"

Ginny shrugged. "Harry must be on his period again."

Hermione laughed and continued eating her breakfast.

A pair of eyes watched her from the other side of the Great Hall.

It was time.

Hermione sat in the dark library, accompanied by stacks of ancient books and the ancient librarian who guarded them. A few other students were hanging about, but they were upperclassmen and were disinterested with her presence.

She was reading up on magical medical history for one of her classes when he finally made his appearance.

"Hello, love. Miss me?" he teased, not asking if someone was sitting in the seat next to hers. He sat down as if it was his privilege to occupy her personal space.

A pale hand rested on her knee.

Her breath caught in her throat. She put her quill down and turned slowly to look at his beautiful face.

Remember to breathe, Hermione.

"I've missed you," he confessed with a Malfoy-esque smirk. His thumb rolled small circles into her inner thigh, slowly rotating upwards past the hem of her skirt.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She meant to sound defiant. It came out breathy and aroused.

"You know what I want." His steel-gray eyes locked onto hers. His fingers reached their destination. Hermione fought the moan threatening to escape from her throat. "And I have a feeling you want it too."

"Someone might see. Stop it." Hermione closed her eyes and bit her lip, letting herself drown in the pleasurable sensation the Slytherin's sneaky hands were giving her.

Draco leaned dangerously closer, using the other hand to put a piece of rebellious hair behind her ear, only to whisper, "You're scared to let them see that you like it, aren't you? Don't want to shatter their views of you as the virginal heroine?"

His fingers maneuvered themselves until there was no barrier between his lean digits and her nether regions. Hermione gasped. Her hand flew to his wrist, urging him to pull away.

"Quit teasing yourself, Granger. You know what you want, now go after it. Where's that Gryffindor courage of yours?" He removed his hand from underneath her skirt and raised it to her lips.

She shook her head. No. I'm not doing that.

"Go on, Granger. One taste and I'll give you more. Just once," he said, trying to persuade her. "Who knows? You might just like it." His eyes danced with mischief.

What are you doing, Hermione Granger? Are you insane? This is sick. This is unhygienic. This is dirty.

"Go on, love. For me?" Draco was mocking her somehow. She knew his intentions were bad. They couldn't be anything else.

Her tongue darted out, hesitantly slithering against his digits. The taste was different, but not disgusting. It was unexpected.

He quickly pulled his hand away and caught her lips in a rough kiss. She gasped, but his lips muffled the sound. His tongue begged for entrance. When she didn't give it to him, he sucked along her lower lip, taking with him the residual flavor of her desire. Knowing this made her moan again.

He was the first to pull away. He always was.

"You're an enigma, Granger. You are just as you appear, a bit on the boring side, but then you do this and suddenly you've got potential to be quite interesting… like a puzzle. And I do love solving puzzles."

"What do you mean by all this, Malfoy? Coming here, disturbing me, doing these… things… to me... what is your game?" Hermione asked, finally able to gather her scruples together after the sensation overload.

"Are you in, Granger? It's better if you are." He lifted his fingers to his lips and sucked gingerly, staring intensely into her brown eyes. "Mmm. Like honey, Granger."

Without another word, he stood up and left.

Hermione returned to her assignment, shocked at what just happened. She looked around, wondering if the others had seen the interaction. They stood in their corners and sat at their tables, disinterested with her presence.

She let out the breath she didn't know she was holding.

Sometimes being a nobody was a godsend.

This was the spark that started the flame. The heat licked at my skin, warming it, making me curious about how much I could take. What I failed to notice was how much it took of me.

But oh how wonderful it felt to burn with desire.

And all my scars spelled Draco Malfoy.