Inescapable by DMHP2014


~ Chapter 7 ~


Hermione briskly walked along the 7th floor corridor and stopped outside of a random classroom to lean against the wall.

She checked her watch. It was 9:44pm, which meant she was nearly fifteen minutes late. She glanced up and down the corridor, noting that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. It seemed that he was late also, either that or he had been on time and decided not to wait around for her. She wasn't sure how she felt about the latter, a little relieved perhaps, but mostly frustrated. Frustrated because she hadn't been able to get Malfoy out of her head since the bathroom incident. Bathroom incident. Classroom incident. She could see a theme forming, and the thought of him not turning up made her irrationally angry.

Quite frankly, Hermione was confused. She was frustrated and confused. After what had happened with Malfoy in the prefects bathroom, she had barely been able to think of anything else. She had been sure that he would seek her out again, especially after that rather public breakup with Pansy Parkinson - which, actually, she later found out hadn't been a breakup at all - but when more than a week had passed without so much as a glance in her direction, she had started to question herself. That overwhelming power she had thought she had over him had slowly began to dwindle until all she felt was a deep sense of insecurity.

It was stupid and ridiculous, she knew that. She was smarter than this. She shouldn't be feeling this way about Draco Malfoy. He was utterly despicable, and she detested feeling anything other than complete loathing towards him, but the reality was that things had changed, and she couldn't deny that there was something between them. She was attracted to him that much was crystal clear, everything else though, was shrouded in darkness, and she couldn't make sense of any of it.

Hermione thought back to what Harry had said to her a few nights ago. Apparently, Malfoy was back to spending most of his time in the Room of Requirement. She was saddened to hear this because it, of course, sent Harry's already suspicious mind into complete overdrive. He'd been relentless when voicing his misgivings regarding Malfoy's motives, and had even gone as far as demanding to know why Hermione hadn't been studying with him - because he hadn't seen them together on the map.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to feel relived or annoyed by this. Relieved that Harry hadn't caught her and Malfoy in the prefects bathroom - she had almost gone crazy with the stress of it all. Annoyed that he was still stalking Malfoy's every move on the map. In the end she settled on a nameless emotion in between the two and just tried to tune him out as best as she could.

It wasn't until Harry started up with his rather worn out argument about Malfoy being a Death Eater, that Hermione almost swallowed her tongue.

Death Eater.

Dark Mark.

Good grief, but the last time Hermione had been alone with Malfoy she had never checked to see if he had the Dark Mark.

The horror that washed over her had been sudden and intense.

Christ, but they had both been completely naked and the thought to check his arm hadn't once crossed her mind.

God, what was wrong with her?

But surely she would have seen it if he'd had one? She wouldn't have missed something as glaringly obvious as a Dark Mark... Would she?

No, no way, it was impossible...

"Granger."

Hermione almost jumped out of her skin. She spun around and came face to face with the man himself.

Malfoy eyed her funnily. "What's up with you? You look troubled. Did you misplace your favorite book or something?"

Hermione blinked up at him. He was smirking at her. "No... Nothing," she muttered distractedly, trying to shake the memory of her conversation with Harry. "I was just... thinking."

"You think too much," he told her.

"Where did you just come from?" she asked, frowning. She had been facing the Grand Staircase so that she could see him coming, but instead he had come up behind her. She looked over his shoulder, in the direction he had traveled from, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Where were you?"

"Ah yes, apologies for being late, I was -"

"You were in the Room of Requirement," she cut him off swiftly. "Why?"

Malfoy gazed at her. "I see you're sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, again. Is that an unintentional habit you have, or do you just really get a kick out of being a nosy bitch? I'm just curious."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, there's my answer," she said.

"How'd you work that one out? I didn't reply to your question," Malfoy sneered at her. "I tend to ignore the especially intrusive ones, which, let's be honest, most of yours are."

"Your avoidance of the question was answer enough," Hermione told him, shooting him a withering glare.

"Or I just think that you're an interfering cow and don't feel compelled to answer," Malfoy offered. "But whatever," he shrugged. "Come on, let's go," he gripped her arm and proceeded to pull her down the corridor.

"Where are we going?" she asked, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

"Somewhere I can fuck your brains out," he told her bluntly.

Hermione tutted at his vulgar choice of words.

"What? I can't shag you right here in the corridor, can I? Someone might see and get sickeningly jealous of you," he turned to smirk at her.

"How you manage to walk around with that massive head of yours is beyond me."

"How you walk around with that nest on top of your head stumps me too, sweetheart," he retorted.

Hermione scowled, patting her hair down self-consciously and almost tripped when Malfoy pulled her to an abrupt stop. "The Room of Requirement?" she asked, surprise coloring her tone. For a brief moment she wondered if he was taking her into the Room of Hidden Things, but then immediately dispelled the thought. Of course not. How ridiculous. He would never voluntarily show her the room he disappeared into for hours on end. Again - for what must have been the hundredth time - she found herself pondering what he got up to in there.

"Yes, the room of requirement," he repeated, pulling her from her thoughts. "Why, do you have any other suggestions? Perhaps you'd rather I fuck you on a desk again? Personally, I don't mind either way," he finished with a leer.

"Stop being crude," Hermione admonished. "The Room of Requirement is fine."

It was actually the only option they had if they didn't want Harry catching them. Jesus, imagine he saw her and Malfoy's dots merge together on the map. What would he think? In all seriousness, he probably wouldn't think they were shagging. He was more likely to think that Malfoy was murdering her.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and began walking back and forth in front of the bare expanse of wall right where the door would appear. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still, nothing happened.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, eyeing the wall and its lack of a door. "Why isn't the door appearing?"

"It seems that the room has certain morals and isn't fond of them being abused," she gave him a questioning look. In response, he simply grinned before turning to make another attempt.

A door appeared this time and Hermione gazed at it apprehensively, wondering what type of room he'd managed to conjure up for them.

Malfoy reached for the door handle and stepped aside to hold it open for her.

Hermione stared at him like he'd grown a second head. She wasn't aware that he was capable of doing anything that even slightly resembled a gentleman, not for her anyway.

"Well, hurry up. We don't have all fucking night," he sighed impatiently, and just like that everything was right with the world.

Hermione threw him a dirty look and pushed past him into the room.

She stopped in the center and gazed around. There was a large bed against the far wall and a settee in front of a roaring fire, and that was basically it. It was small but cosy, nothing like she'd imagined Malfoy would conjure up. Quite the opposite, actually.

Malfoy walked in and locked the door securely behind him.

Hermione turned to look at him. Now that they were in here, she felt unbelievably nervous. Was this really a good idea, locking herself inside the Room of Requirement with Draco Malfoy? Especially, when no one knew where she was. If something were to happen to her, no one would know where to find her. "So," she began awkwardly, clasping her hands together.

Malfoy, clearly not having the same misgivings, stepped towards her and cupped her face in both of his hands before leaning down to kiss her deeply.

Hermione instantly melted, all her worries fleeing at once to be replaced by a deep sense of yearning.

God, she missed this.

They kissed for long moments, Hermione relishing in the feel of his lips against hers. She had been craving this so much. Malfoy, like she feared, was becoming her drug, and she felt powerless to stop it.

How did he do his to her? How did he make her feel these things? Her body was literally burning up with need.

Malfoy hummed deeply, running his hands over the outer curve of her breasts and down to her hips before grasping her bottom in both palms and squeezing.

Hermione gasped and pressed herself closer to him, running her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. Damn, but his hands felt good.

Malfoy broke the kiss to pull her earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it gently. "I want to be inside you," he told her boldly, his voice low and husky.

Hermione groaned despite herself, pleasure shooting through her core at his words and pulsing relentlessly. Yes, she wanted that too. So very much.

Not needing anymore encouragement than that, he started to remove her robe, undoing the clasp before pushing it off her shoulders to fall at her feet.

Hermione vaguely mused about how quickly things were escalating ... Wasn't there something she was supposed to do?

Malfoy pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it firmly, before brushing his tongue against hers in that enticing way that had her virtually vibrating with the need to crawl on top of him and take him. It was such a primitive urge, one that he always seemed to evoke in her in these situations. It was like she reverted back to the stone-ages where instincts were straightforward and basic. If you wanted something, you just took it without thought of consequence. It was like her hormones took over and she had no say in what happened.

Yet, she wasn't in the stone-ages, she was in the bloody twentieth century, and she needed to get a grip of herself and take control of the situation before things got out of hand. Again.

"Wait," she breathed, halting his eager hands that were pulling at the hem of her school jumper.

Malfoy stopped, mouth hovering over hers, their noses touching. She could feel his breath grazing her lips with soft little puffs of air, and she wanted so badly to kiss him again. She almost did.

No.

Hermione needed to talk to him first. She needed to know what was going on here. She couldn't do this again and have him walk away and ignore her for weeks until he felt the need to seek her out. It was disrupting her life – or, more accurately, the unknown was driving her insane - and she wouldn't allow it to continue.

"We need to talk," she said, swallowing deeply and stepping away from him.

"What?" Malfoy's silver eyes followed her as she moved away even further. "You can't be serious?"

"I'm dead serious," she assured him, standing her ground. She would not let him manipulate the situation. Not this time.

He snorted humorlessly. "Cock blocking me again," he commented, reaching down to shamelessly adjust his erection into a more comfortable position, not in the least bit bothered that Hermione was watching him. "Is this how it's going to be from now on?"

From now on? So did that mean that he did intend for this to continue?

"Well, that will all depend on how the conversation goes," she said, crossing her arms.

Malfoy stared at her. He looked frustrated. "Don't you get tired of talking, Granger?" he asked, tone clipped.

"Don't you get tired of being a dick?" she retorted.

Touché.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. "Never. Being a dick is so much fun."

Arsehole. "Will you just sit down," she asked, moving to sit on the settee.

"Will I sit down," he said, sounding thoroughly exasperated. "You really want me to sit down?" he asked and she nodded. He glanced mournfully at the bed before turning back to her and letting out a long suffering sigh. "Is this going to take long? This isn't exactly what I had planned for tonight."

"The way you're carrying on, probably," she told him.

"What the fuck do you want to talk about? World Peace? House-elf welfare?" he pulled his face like he couldn't think of anything worst. "Let me tell you, you're preaching to the wrong crowd. None of that shit interests me, so you may as well save your breath."

"Of course it doesn't. Nothing interests you unless you have something to gain from it," she snapped. "Selfish bastard that you are. But anyhow, I digress. This isn't about your egocentric tendencies."

"It isn't?" he asked mildly. "What a shame, I love talking about myself."

Hermione couldn't tell if he was joking or not. She glared at him. "Sit down."

Malfoy stalked towards her slowly, smirk firmly in place, and sat down right next to her.

Hermione sighed. "What are you doing? There's plenty of room on here without you nearly sitting on top of me."

"Yes, well, this is where I want to sit," he lifted his arm and placed it along the back of the settee, behind Hermione's head, and turned his body towards her, his leg flush against hers. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked innocently.

"Would it make any difference if I said that I did mind?" she bit out.

"No," he told her plainly, not missing a beat.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Christ, but this was going to be long and painful.

"Well, go on then, what is it that you want to talk about?" he asked, looking bored. He pulled on one of her curls and then let it go, watching as it sprang back into place.

Where to start? With Malfoy it was usually best to get straight to it. He got irritated with small talk, and she wanted to get this over with as quick as possible. "What is going on here, Malfoy?" she asked, biting the bullet.

"You tell me. As far as I can tell you're trying to bore me to death with your prattle," he answered.

Hermione gritted her teeth together and counted to ten. "Between us. What is going on between us?"

"Apparently, nothing," he quipped. "Not for the sake of trying, I might add. Are we done yet?" he leaned in to kiss her and she pushed his face away. Malfoy scowled at her, looking thoroughly disgruntled.

"No, we are not," she snapped. "And you better start taking me seriously, otherwise I'm leaving," she threatened. "My God, why am I even putting up with this?" she asked herself aloud.

"Christ, I was joking," the look he gave her was one of a suffering nature. "You have no sense of humor."

"I have no sense of Malfoy humor," she corrected him.

"Shame that. I'm sure you'll catch on eventually," he said.

"I severely hope not, the day that happens is a very sad day indeed."

"Or a very joyous one," he countered, pulling his jumper over his head and throwing it to the floor. "It would do wonders for helping dislodge that stick up your arse."

"And what, I wonder, would help dislodge yours? I fear there's nothing this world can offer," Hermione retorted and pursed her lips at him, watching as he undid his green tie and threw it blindly over his shoulder. "What on earth are you doing?" she asked.

"Just getting comfortable," he smiled crookedly at her, eyes glittering in a way that made her instantly suspicious. "Now, what was it you were saying? Not about the stick up my arse, the other thing," he clarified.

She sighed. "I was asking what's going on with us? What I mean is, where is this going?" she waved her hand back and forth in the limited space between them.

"Is this seriously what you wanted to talk about?" he asked, tone belying how unimpressed he was.

"One of the things, yes," she responded curtly.

Malfoy didn't look happy to learn that she had more than one thing to discuss. "I don't know what's going on with us, Granger. We've shagged twice. That's all I can tell you. I'm quite sure you're already aware of this though, so I really don't know what you want me to say."

"Well, is this something that's going to be a regular thing?"

"I don't know, do you want it to be?" he turned the question back on her.

"I asked you first," she hated that she was resorting to childish comebacks, but she would not be the first one to say it.

Malfoy stared at her for what seemed like an age. "Yes," he answered eventually. "If I have my way, and I usually do, this is going to be a regular thing. Do you have a problem with that?"

It was ridiculous, but Hermione couldn't help the little burst of girlish excitement that ignited in her chest. She even managed to overlook his big-headedness.

"You seem happy with my answer, so I take it that you don't have a problem," he smirked. "Clearly you don't want our little trysts to end," he looked infuriatingly smug. "But let me make one thing perfectly clear, that's all they are, trysts, don't go falling in love with me or anything else equally ridiculous."

"I won't if you won't," she sang, teasingly.

As if that would happen.

"Oh, there's no chance of that," he assured her.

"Then it's settled," she said, all business like. "No falling in love with each other. Easy. Now -" she turned slightly towards him, their shoulders bumping, "- we need to set aside certain times of the week to meet. I hate the way it is at the moment, you don't say anything for weeks and then just seek me out when you want me. I don't like it. I'm not a toy to be used whenever you feel like it. This is a two way street, and I have a say in how it goes. If you don't like it, then we'll part ways tonight."

Hermione's stomach dropped as the last words left her mouth. She wanted to snatch them out of the air and shove them back down her throat. God, she shouldn't have said that, what if he doesn't like it, and decides to leave now? Shit. It was true what she'd said, she wasn't a toy to be used, but that didn't necessarily mean that she wanted this to end if he didn't agree with her.

Malfoy bit his bottom lip and eyed her shrewdly. "Alright, Granger, I hear you. Tell me your terms then? I assume you have some," he raised his brow.

Hermione wanted to breathe a deep sigh of relief, but resisted. She could scarcely believe how cooperative he was being. "OK. Well, firstly, I don't share."

Malfoy laughed at this - as in threw his head back and outright laughed.

"I'm serious," she told him.

"Oh, I know you are," he grinned. "You can't stand the thought of anyone else touching me, can you?"

She couldn't, actually, but she wasn't going to admit that to him. "Hardly. I'm an only child, I never learnt to share. Also, I'd rather not catch an S.T.I, so if I hear of you sleeping with anyone else, then this ends immediately."

"What on earth is an S.T.I?" he asked, frowning, and then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know, obviously something to do with Muggles and absolutely irrelevant here," he threw her an impatient look. "Anyway, it seems we have something in common. I never learnt to share either, although I'm not really concerned with you sleeping with anyone else. I don't think you have it in you to have two affairs going at the same time. It's just so un-Granger-ish."

"Then we are in agreement?" she asked. "No other flings until this one has run its course?"

"Do you want to pinky promise?" he teased, holding his little finger up.

Hermione contemplated breaking it, but it would only prolong things. "Also, no talking about this to anyone."

"Fucking hell, Granger. Obviously," Malfoy scoffed.

No one could know about them, it was dangerous. Yet, Hermione still couldn't help feeling hurt by his vehemence. "I can meet you Saturday nights and Wednesday nights, do these days work for you?" she swiftly continued on.

"How do I know? I don't have daily schedules written months in advance," he snorted but abruptly stopped when he noticed her rather curiously blank expression. "Jesus Christ," he said slowly, eyeing her in disbelief. "Don't tell me you have daily schedules written months in advance?"

Hermione brushed some imaginary fluff off her skirt and glanced away from him.

"Wow. That's really fucking sad, do you know that? Bloody hell, Granger," he shuffled to the other end of the sofa, away from her, and kicked his shoes off before lifting his feet up onto the couch and stretching his legs out.

"There's nothing wrong with being organized," she defended herself.

"No. There's organized, then there's OCD, and then there's you," he ticked each one off on his fingers. "You know you can't control everything."

She could try.

Hermione huffed and looked down at his sock-covered feet that were just grazing her thigh. She felt like pushing them off the settee, but she resisted. Just. "They're the only days I can meet," she told him.

"They're the only days you're willing to meet. There's a difference," he propped his head up on his forearms and gazed at her. "I can't believe you want to schedule in sex," he chuckled at her. "Do you have a schedule for everything then? Sleeping... eating... toilet breaks... masturbating -"

"Take it or leave it," she snapped, cutting him off. "I have other things I have to do. My world doesn't, and won't ever, revolve around you."

"Alright. Relax, Granger, you don't want your hair to fall out. Where would all the birds sleep then?"

"Fuck off, Malfoy," she told him plainly.

Malfoy looked up towards the heavens. "I see you still haven't caught on to the Malfoy humor. Don't worry, I'm not giving up hope just yet."

Hermione sighed and made to leave. It was a wonder she hadn't left sooner.

"Fine," he agreed quickly, sighing in exasperation. "If I can make your ridiculous Wednesday and Saturday demands, then I will, if not..." he shrugged.

Why did he have to be so difficult? Surely he could make sure he was free on those nights. "Fine," she reluctantly agreed and settled in her seat again.

"Good," Malfoy said and began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "Now that that's out of the way -" he left the sentence open, eyes burning into hers with meaning.

"Hold on," she blurted. "We haven't finished yet."

He rolled his eyes at her but continued to undo his shirt. "Are you sure? What else could you possibly want to talk about?"

Hermione's eyes followed his fingers, drinking in the creamy skin that was exposed, inch by inch. "What?" she blinked distractedly.

Malfoy smirked and popped the last button before sitting up to remove the garment completely. "What else did you want to talk about?" he repeated, looking like the cat that got the cream.

He was obviously trying to seduce her out of talking, and by the look on his face he clearly thought he'd won. Hermione was loathed to admit that it was kind of working, but after giving herself a swift talking to, she cleared her throat and glared at him. "I need to talk to you about..." she trailed off, staring at the inside of his left forearm.

Malfoy stiffened, eyes whipping down to where she was looking. Hermione missed the panic that clouded his features, as well as the look of sheer relief that washed over his face a split second later.

There was no Dark Mark. His skin was clear and tattoo-free. That meant that Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater.

A weight, which she hadn't been aware of, suddenly lifted from her shoulders, and the relief she felt was almost enough to make her groan out loud.

Harry was wrong. He was wrong. And she had never been so happy about it.

Hermione hadn't realized how much the fact that Malfoy could have been a Death Eater was playing on her mind, even though she had been sure that he wasn't one.

Malfoy frowned at her. "What is it, Granger?" he asked shortly. "You've got a weird look on your face, and I don't like it."

"Nothing," she half-smiled, not being able to help herself. "Sorry," she shook her head to clear it, but found herself staring at his forearm again, just to make sure.

Malfoy glared at her and sat up, covering his arm in the process. "What the fuck are you looking at?" he asked, tone sharp and agitated.

Hermione glanced up at his face. "Nothing," he gazed at her, grey eyes fierce and unrelenting. She swallowed deeply, realizing that she had been caught staring, and he probably knew why.

stared at her fiercely, and she swallowed deeply, realizing that she had been caught staring, and he probably knew why.

"Do you have something you want to say?" he asked angrily, making it almost sound like a demand.

"Um..." she began uncertainly.

"Go on, what is it?" he encouraged. "You look like you have something to say, so just say it."

"Well..."

"Spit it out," he snapped.

Hermione couldn't understand why he was so angry. "Harry thought that you were -" she broke off - she shouldn't be admitting this. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her, and she reluctantly continued. "He had this ridiculous notion that... Well, he thought you were -"

"A Death Eater," he finished for her. "Tell me something I don't already know."

"You knew that?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, he told me so about a month ago when I had an unfortunate run-in with him and Weasley, in fact, you showed up too, if I remember correctly," he told her.

Ah, that's right. Jesus, she hadn't known that Harry had outright accused him of being a Death Eater though. For crying out loud. "I didn't know that," she confessed.

"Well, now you do. That doesn't explain why you keep staring at my arm."

Hermione could kick herself. It was probably best to just be truthful with him, Christ, she had been so far, what was a little more honesty at this point. "Harry asked me to find out whether you had a Dark Mark or not. You know, in our study sessions," she added, not wanting him to think that she and Harry had devised a plan of her sleeping with him just to find out if he was a Death Eater or not. Malfoy didn't seem concerned though, so she continued. "Now I can safely tell him that you're not, which is great. He'll probably back off now."

Malfoy frowned at her in confusion. "Wait, but didn't you already know this?" he asked. "I mean, this isn't the first time you've seen me without my shirt on."

"Yes, well... I was kind of distracted last time," she confessed, blushing.

Malfoy continued to frown at her, not even taking advantage of the chance to mock her about being distracted the last time they were together. "So, you willingly slept with me even though you thought I was a Death Eater and was yet to find solid proof that I wasn't?"

"No," she scoffed.

Malfoy stared at her. "You're not making any sense," he told her.

Hermione sighed. "I never believed you were a Death Eater. Harry was the one who thought you were. I mean it's not like I didn't try to convince him otherwise, but he was having none of it. You can be hateful at times, Malfoy, but I don't believe you're evil. I would never have let this happen between us if I truly thought you were a Death Eater."

Malfoy's face darkened at her words, and she couldn't understand why. What did she say wrong? The way he looked at her gave her instant shivers. "But what if Potter had been right and you had been wrong. What would you have done then?"

She gazed back at him without blinking. "I would have walked right out of this room," she answered honestly.

"And then what?" he pushed. "Would you have gone straight to Dumbledore to tell him that he has a Death Eater living under his roof? Or would you have gone to the Order of the Phoenix instead?"

Hermione licked her suddenly dry lips. She didn't like the direction the conversation was going. "I don't know," she answered defensively, standing up to smooth her hands over the front of her clothes. She felt uneasy. "What does it even matter?" she attempted to brush it off. "You're not a Death Eater."

"I'm just curious," he stood up too and moved to stand in front of her. "What would you have done? You would have gone to Dumbledore, wouldn't you?"

"I said I don't know -"

"Surely you've thought about it, even if you didn't think I was a Death Eater. There was always a chance after all, you would have been stupid to think otherwise," he continued almost conversationally. "It's always better to be safe than sorry -"

"Fine!" she cut him off. "Yes, I probably would have gone to Dumbledore. Happy now? I don't see what knowing this has to achieve. It's absolutely irrelevant."

They stared at each other for long moments, Hermione's heart beating wildly in her chest. Why was he looking at her like that? So lost and despondent.

"Malfoy, what is it?" she asked lowly, senses tingling.

Malfoy suddenly blinked, his face clearing and his shoulders relaxing. He smiled at her. "Nothing. You're right, of course," he agreed. "The whole thing is irrelevant."

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"You know," Malfoy began casually. "Potter really should have known better," he turned away from her and walked towards the bed, undoing his trousers as he did so. He quickly removed them, along with his boxes and socks, and fell back on the bed stark naked. "I mean, do I look like I know anything about tattoos, magically induced or otherwise? Look at my skin, it's flawless," he smirked wickedly.

Hermione was looking alright, and she was inclined to agree with him. She glanced at his manhood briefly before her eyes skittered away in embarrassment. It was really quite absurd to be embarrassed at this point, but alas here she was, blushing like a fool.

"Go on, Granger, have a good look," he encouraged. "You know you want to."

Her eyes flicked back towards him, and she drank in all his glory. Her eyes, again, found his penis, and she inspected it properly for the first time, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Malfoy just lay there, one leg bent at the knee and the other straight out, both arms behind his head. He was the absolute epitome of carefree ease, and she couldn't fathom how he was lying there like that while she scrutinized him. It was ridiculous.

"So, what do you think?" he asked. "I can literally hear your brain working from over here."

"Well," she frowned. "I thought it was bigger than that," Malfoy raised his brow at her. "I mean, I remember it seemed a lot bigger, you know, last time."

Malfoy smirked and reached a hand down to palm himself.

Hermione stared, brown eyes fixated, as he gripped his length firmly in his right hand.

Holy fucking shit.

She watched him slowly stroke his cock to full hardness, her whole body heating from the inside out as her core pulsed with every beat of her heart.

In no time at all, Malfoy's cock was flushed and standing to attention, long and hard. She literally couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Better?" he asked.

Hermione was speechless.

"Well, don't just stand there," he said. "Take off your clothes."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, she wanted to see if she could find anything devious there, but all she found was dilated sliver pools filled with pure want and need. She began to undress without another thought.


A/N: Don't kill me, please. So sorry for ending it here but this chapter was going to be too long otherwise. Also, I really wanted the sex scene to be from Draco's perspective - don't you want to know what he's thinking? ;). Yeah, I think we all do. At least you know what's coming next chapter, or should I say who! *snorts* I know. I know. I hate myself. Thank you for reading. *big hugs*

Massive thanks to my awesome beta reader, Black_Osmosis!