A/N: I know I said I'd lost the edited versions of this and the next couple chapters, but I had to get one out. This was bugging the bejesus out of me!
WARNING: Not exactly rape, but some rougher scenes coming up. The next chapter will be worse, but I'll put something up about that later. Only a couple harsh words in this chapter, but enough to make the kiddies cringe.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately, Draco is J.K.'s creation, and cannot, in fact, be my willing sex slave. Damn. Hermione, as well, belongs to the genius of J.K., and I'll forever be jealous.
She was in shock. She couldn't feel anything but the frigid air, flowing over her restlessly as she tried to re-establish her grip on reality. Dumbledore's office had ceased to exist, as had the room's only other occupant. This is impossible, absolutely impossible. It must be some kind of mistake. Everything was... wrong. It all looked so fake! The colors were too vivid, the scents were too strong; it was as though she had walked into a painting by a blind man. Voices echoed through her memory, taunting whispers and screaming accusations, biting insecurities and tormenting laughter. Hermione's knuckles whitened as her grip on the chair tightened; if she let go, she was sure she'd fall into the swirling vortex that the room had become.
Flash!
She was six years old, sitting on her bed, cradling her newest family portrait. She gazed longingly at her mother's luscious golden hair, and with envy uncharacteristic of such a young child, her small fingers traced her father's sandy brown locks. As her focus drifted from her parent's fair features to her own chestnut curls, a single question flitted through her innocent mind, gone before it had quite finished forming. "Why do I look so different?"
Flash!
The room wobbled once again. Hermione's nails bit sharply into her palms, but she ignored the pain. She was too caught up in the memories...
Flash!
Seven-year-old Hermione tailed obediently behind her mother in the bookstore, wide eyes shimmering in awe at all of the colorful pleasures that surrounded her. The lady at the counter had finished bagging their items, and smiled pleasantly at Guen, before whispering words meant to be kept from a child's ears; "It's so nice of you to adopt!"
The blonde beauty shook her head, polite smile fading from her face as she claimed, "She's mine. I didn't adopt. It's quite rude of you to assume things like that!"
The woman behind the counter apologized contritely, but poor little Hermione hadn't understood a word. Of course she'd been listening, but she was entirely too captivated by those picture-book treasures to question what 'adopt' meant.
Flash!
She could feel the hot, sticky beads of blood trickle from the crescent cuts on her palms, and lowered her eyes to inspect them. The droplets were ruby red. Her blood looked no different, no purer, but that was to be expected, wasn't it? After all, she'd been pure all along, hadn't she? Even the voice inside her head sneered the word with unbridled disgust.
"Miss Granger, are you-"
"Don't call me that!" She snapped, the first words she'd uttered since Professor Dumbledore had told her the news. Granger. Since first year, that name had been made interchangeable with the word Mudblood, by Draco Malfoy, one of the schools most prominent pureblood students. The name of the people she'd never see again. Where would she go? She most certainly couldn't go home; no, these Griswald people had made perfectly sure that she could never go home again.
Flash!
"They say that your disappearance was a fluke in the Muggle record system," Dumbledore was explaining, watching the witch in front of him quake. "Gillian-er, Mrs. Griswald, was visiting her squib sister in Muggle Manchester when she went into labor. We all know how dangerous it is to Apparate when pregnant, so Mr. Griswald took her to a Muggle hospital. They say the nurse took you down to the nursery, and they never saw you again."
If so, why didn't they look for me sooner? That was what Hermione wanted to ask, but instead, she chose a different question. "What about Mum and Dad? I want to talk to them."
The great man shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that is impossible. The Griswald's have claimed custody of you, and a team of Obliviators from the Ministry have already been sent to the Granger home."
"Don't they get a say in this? Don't I?" She had cried, tears welling in her eyes. Once again, the headmaster shook his head gravely.
"No. According to Wizard Law, your real parents, the Griswalds, would normally challenge the current custody claim. Unfortunately, because your adoptive parents are Muggles, they can take no part in the hearing, and lose all privileges. As you are not yet of age, you cannot oppose the decision. All of your legal documents have been altered; you are now officially a Griswald, and I'm afraid there is no going back.
Flash!
She rose from her chair, refusing to acknowledge Dumbledore's pleading request that she remain in his office, and left the room. She didn't know where she was going and truthfully, she couldn't care any less. She just wanted to get away; she wanted to escape the pity that shone from her Headmaster's eyes like beacons, to escape the stubborn crush of reality, to escape the knowledge that everything had changed. She wanted to run until she got lost, until she was as far away as she could possibly get, until she was so exhausted she couldn't move anymore. At a controlled pace she couldn't explain, she turned down a corridor, descended a staircase, ducked behind a tapestry, and turned again down another corridor. With every step she took, that controlled pace slipped farther away, and her steps came faster, and faster, until she was running frantically. The colorful blur of the paintings as she passed reflected the turmoil of her own jumbled thoughts, and still she ran. Too much. She was overwhelmed with the need for escape, the need to do something to forget. Something drastic, something that she wouldn't do if it were any other day, something to reaffirm her existence. The pounding of her feet on the cold stone floors echoed in the abandoned corridor, and still she ran. Too much.
Hermione's vision was blurred with tears as the full implications of her predicament set in. Never again. She could never go home again. She would never curl up in front of the TV again. She would never hear her parents complain about the Wizarding Sweets she brought home from school again. She would never again open a silver-wrapped box at Christmas, only to find a brand new, top of the line toothbrush.
She couldn't see where she was going; the tears that had filled her eyes refused to pour down her cheeks, but she couldn't stop running. She'd never see her mother smile blankly as Hermione tried to explain the finer points of a Leg-Locker jinx. She'd never hear her father congratulate her grades-
Her thoughts all went silent for a few blessed seconds when she ran into something. All her forward momentum was stopped, and she was knocked back. Had she actually run into a wall? Or, perhaps, a wayward suit of armor? Sniffling, Hermione Griswald- no, Hermione Granger wiped her face with the sleeve of her robes, and looked up into Malfoy's smirking face. Oh dear.
The moment he left Snape's classroom, Draco felt a heavy weight fall upon his shoulders. His mother and father had made a very strict request. Befriend Miss Griswald. Sounded simple enough, didn't it? Unfortunately, 'Miss Griswald' was one and the same with Hermione Granger, the insufferable know-it-all he had alternately tormented and lusted after at every given opportunity. She may have led others to believe that his well-aimed barbs didn't puncture her thick skin (thick head, more likeĀ), but he knew better. As sensitive as he was to hiding his own emotion, he could easily read hers. The hurt in her eyes had always jumped out at him; whenever he saw that wounded look, he wanted to kick himself squarely in the shin. Then, of course, he wanted to Avada himself for feeling even the slightest twinge of a guilt. She was a Mudblood, he a pureblood. It's what he did!
He'd long ago given up wondering why he felt so guilty about teasing her. Indeed, the answer was plain as day... but he'd gouge out his own eyes with a fork before admitting it, even (especially) to himself. Snotty, bratty, stuck-up Gryffindor Granger. Once upon a time, her attitude had pissed him off, and he'd become obsessed with finding a way to bring her down a peg or two from her self-righteous perch, despite the fact that she attracted him so. He didn't know when that had changed, but it was brought screaming to his attention that day in the library. That was even before this shocking new development. Now that he knew that her blood was as pure as his...
His options spread out in front of him, sparkling roads of opportunity that just begged to be traveled. Wasn't this what he had wanted from the very beginning? Hermione Granger, know-it-all that she may be, was also charming, witty, and (just say it) gorgeous. Not in the traditional sense, no; her hair was too bushy, her eyes too large, her lips too thick, but surprisingly, all of those attributes that would have been ugly on their own combined to make a very intriguing face, and all that he'd wanted from the first time he met her was the chance to pursue her.
If he wanted her, now was the perfect time to swoop her up! A Malfoy never swoops, he sneered down at the floor. I don't have a bloody Gryffindor complex. Leave the white knight business and swooping the lady off her feet to them. But if that was the case, what did he, Draco Malfoy, have to offer her? Or, rather, what traits could he exploit and use to his advantage?
I'm a Malfoy. I have charm, I have wit, I have heaps and heaps of gold... and this situation couldn't get any better.
He roamed the dungeon corridors for an hour, turning his options over in his mind, coming into contact with no one save a ghost or two, which disappeared through the wall as quickly and eerily as they came. Had he been paying more attention, he would have clearly heard the pounding of desperate feet; so lost was he in his own musings that the sound faded unnoticed into the background. In fact, he didn't notice anything until a speeding object connected solidly with his chest. He looked down, and came face to face with the object of his obsession. Enter malicious smirk.
"Well, well, if it isn't little Granger, off all on her own." She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, and he realized with a sinking feeling that she was crying. Not just 'Oh, sob, I got a measly 98 on my Potions final', but full out 'My parents just died because I messed with the settings on the Floo and now I'm going to throw myself off the nearest cliff' crying. She sniffled a little, eyes focusing sharply on him, before her pained expression hardened a tiny bit. More tears leaked from her puffy eyes to fall gracelessly down her cheeks, and Draco felt something small somewhere inside him twinge with compassion. Hard-arsed prat that he might be, he truly couldn't handle the sight of a female in pain. If it were someone he didn't know, he'd pity them. Poor useless wretches, unable to hide their weaknesses. When it was a friend, he sympathized with them. I'm sorry you feel so horribly. Who do I have to kill? But this... this was Granger. Not a friend; six years of torture had made damn sure of that, but not really an enemy either, if the other day in the library was anything to go by. When Granger cried, a small part of him howled in pain. Nothing in the world should be able to bring her to tears, save for me. That small part of him demanded that he hunt down the cause of her pain, and make it suffer. He quickly drowned that part of him in a metaphorical vat of acid, and forced himself into instant snark-mode. "And crying, too! Tsk tsk, Granger. What would your faithful lapdogs say if they could see you now?"
"Sod off, Malfoy," the bushy-haired brunette tried to growl through her tears. The words came out as more of a sobbing hiccup than she intended, and that just served to make her angry. That was good. Angry Granger was much easier to deal with than Sad Granger. Angry Granger didn't make him want to scoop her into his arms and mutter useless soothing words, or anything else remotely uncharacteristic. Angry Granger was Normal Granger.
"Is that the best you can come up with? Now, I shouldn't expect much better out of you. I suspect you focus all of your energy into simply holding up your head. All that bushy hair must make it ever-so-hard to concentrate, eh?"
"I don't know. You could try asking your father; I'm sure he knows plenty about hair distractions. Half of your gold must be set aside for hair care products! I suppose they would have shorn it all off, though, wouldn't they?" She straightened, and looked him squarely in the eye, brushing leftover tears from her cheeks. She wouldn't say it... would she? "I mean, after all, he is in prison."
Red overtook his vision; how dare she make such remarks about his father? He wouldn't stand for it! Now, Draco, Malfoy's do not hit women, he could hear his father's voice sneer. It's not near as demeaning as they deserve. Taking a deep breath, he calmed the rage that was building in him to sneer coldly at her. Deciding to change the subject, he blatantly raked his eyes over her, letting them rest in extremely inappropriate places. "Why are you crying, Granger? Upset because not even your little nancy Golden Boys will have you? She flinched, and he smirked again. He found a sore spot! File that away for later use...
"No!" She shouted, then huffed, crossing her arms tightly in front of her. "As if it's any of your business anyway. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places I need to be." She made to squeeze past him, but his hand shot out, gripped her arm, and turned her to face him.
"I don't understand why they don't see what's right in front of them," he murmured, reaching two fingers up to tug at a wayward brown curl. Her eyes widened as he came just a little closer before she pulled away entirely, glaring at him in disgust. Merlin, you ponce! He thought to himself, disgusted enough for both of them at his actions. Why not just fall to your knees and confess your undying love for her! Hermione growled deep in her throat, shocking him. It was not a sound he expected to hear from perfect little Granger. He watched as her chest moved up and down, a testament to the reaction he had caused, and quite suddenly he realized just how attractive she truly was. The lust pounded into him, wave after wave, growing stronger with each passing second. Neither knew how long they stood there, just staring at each other, but Hermione must have felt the change in mood, because she tried once again to run away.
She didn't know when the atmosphere about them changed. Instead of looking into his angry eyes, she found herself wishing she could taste him. Just there, below his ear. Or maybe there, where the blood pumped so strongly through is body, it made the vein in his neck pulse. She stared hungrily at him, not noticing that he was mirroring her actions. She was no stranger to desire, and hadn't she just been wishing for something drastic to do? Nothing could be more drastic than seducing the un-seducible Slytherin Prince... No. She couldn't think like that. That was just too much, too drastic. Firm in her newfound resolve, she moved once again to pass him.
Without warning, Hermione found herself shoved up against the wall, hard. Draco's left hand pinned her wrists tightly to the stone above her head, and his other hand held her chin immobile. His right knee rested on the stone beside her, effectively trapping her in the corner. He moved like a cat! Graceful and silent. Or a snake, her mind whispered, not bothering to disguise her admiration. Smooth and stealthy, quick to strike. If that's how he moves, just imagine how he feels.
Unable to look anywhere else, her widened chocolate eyes locked onto his storm cloud grey orbs. The ice that was usually present had long since melted, leaving behind only fire, and even though she knew she should be afraid, Hermione couldn't help but feel the tight curl of desire in her abdomen. She watched as Draco's eyes combed over her, and for a moment, she thought she saw a certain degree of hunger in his gaze. He wants you, Hermione. Look at his eyes. Look at the way he's looking at you. The way he has you pinned against the wall... But another voice made itself known in that instant. When she would have thrown caution to the wind, the detestable voice of Reason ventured from its hidey hole. Why is he doing this? Do you really think he wants you? Isn't this the same Draco Malfoy who called you a Mudblood? The same one who has prayed for your death?
"Take your hands off me, Malfoy," she ground out between clenched teeth, experimentally trying to move her head. She strained and strained, but his grip never faltered.
"And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?" He murmured seductively, moving his mouth closer to her ear. She could feel his breath, hot and moist, on her earlobe. She shivered. "Are you scared?"
"Of you?" She scoffed, trying to keep the quiver from her voice. Why was she reacting to him like this? It was like her body didn't understand who he was, what he was trying to do. "Only in your wildest dreams, Ferret Boy. I just figured you'd want to let me go before my Mudblood diseases taint your flawless skin," she spat. Mudblood. Hah! If only he knew. If he knew, do you think he'd still treat you this way? If this is how he treats you as a Mudblood, are you sure you'd want it to change? Her thoughts were cut off as he laughed softly. The low sound drifted over her skin like satin, leaving a trail of goose bumps along her arm and tingles down her spine.
"I'll just have to make sure to wash nice and long when I'm done with you, then, won't I?"
Was that meant to have a double meaning? For the first time since she'd met the snarky blond, Hermione felt a twinge of real fear flow through her. She was so far away from her friends, the teachers... away from anyone who could help if she should need it. She held her breath, then shook herself. Was she really that afraid of Malfoy? She'd never feared him before; why start now?
"What are you going to do? Kill me?" She snorted, glancing around. "Come on. Don't you think someone might notice that I'm gone?"
"They haven't noticed so far, have they?" He asked quietly, focusing intently on her. Hermione scoffed for a minute, but realized with a jolt that he was absolutely right. It had been hours since she'd been in class; hours since she'd seen any of her friends or fellow students. After Potions, she'd gone to the library, then straight to Dumbledore... and had been there until now. Hadn't anyone questioned her absence? Weren't they worried about her? Dear Merlin, Malfoy could do anything to her, and no one would know until class tomorrow. Not even the boys would question her whereabouts; it was common knowledge that Madam Pince had given her an extra key to the library, for those days that her studies ran late. They'd just assume she was lost in one of her books, and no one would pay any mind.
"At any rate," Malfoy startled her by speaking again, "I don't plan to kill you." Leaning forward, he sniffed hair deeply, not even attempting to disguise the action. Hermione felt color rise to her cheeks, but she kept her gaze steady. That is, until he finished his sentence. "Yet. You know what they say; the only thing as fun as killing a Mudblood is fucking them. Either is fine, just as long as you make them... scream." On this last word, he licked his lips seductively. Her eyes widened. He couldn't mean to... No. Oh no. This could be very bad. She was supposed to be seducing him, not the other way around.
His face had taken on an animalistic quality; his trademark smirk was now threaded with a sort of smug satisfaction. He looked like a predator that had just cornered his prey; now, he was just playing with her until he got bored, and snapped her neck. Then the realization dawned. This was it! She had the right idea earlier; this was the drastic action she'd begged for. It wasn't too drastic. That's what the old Hermione would have said. Hermione Granger. Hermione Griswald, however, thought that seducing her school nemesis sounded like fun.
As her point of view shifted, Hermione looked at Draco Malfoy in an entirely new light. She was sure he didn't notice the way her eyes hungrily drank in the angles and planes of his aristocratic face, nor the way she almost sighed in satisfaction. This would happen; she'd make damn sure of it.
A/N: You guys need to let me know what you think. How was my grammar and stuff? The style itself? Oh, and most importantly; do you guys want a steamy sex scene next update, or should I just allude to what happens in the bedroom and continue on with the very interesting (but not quite as hot) plot? Review and let me know; that pretty little button is just begging you to click it. Can't you hear it?
Tiny Little Go Button: Click me!
See? Give it what it wants!
