A/N: Well, here we go. I FOUND THE DISK WITH MY BACKUP COPIES! PARTY ON! Unfortunately, this whole sex scene thing? Not as steamy as I would have hoped.I guess I'm just not as good at writing the sex stuff. Oh well. I think the majority of the chapter makes up for that.So, back by popular demand, it is Bloodlines!Continue, gentle readers, into the realm of the mystical, and remember always ... I lay claim to nothing but the Griswalds! Huzzah!
Chapter Seven
"I don't understand how you do this to me," he said, more to himself than her as he watched the fear leave her eyes. In its place was a flame of desire; reflected, he supposed, from his own eyes. Draco gripped her chin tighter as she struggled to move, immediately loosening his hold when her struggles ceased. He leaned even closer to her face, sandwiching her between his lean body and the cold stone wall, enjoying the sensation of her warmth so close. "I hate you," he sneered, still whispering in her ear. She nodded slightly in response, the only motion allowed by his grip, and Draco felt her heartbeat accelerate. "I shouldn't feel this way about you," he continued, amused when she shook her head slightly, as though agreeing with him. "But I do." His free hand slammed against the wall, causing Hermione to flinch as he asked, "Why!"
He was pressing against her in the most sensitive of places, and Merlin help her, she loved it. Something about the primitive ruthlessness of Malfoy's actions spoke to her body in a way that tenderness never had. Hermione could feel the evidence of his seemingly reluctant arousal pressing against her belly as he spoke into her ear. Spoke? It was more like growled; a rumbling that started deep in his chest, and shot straight to her womb. She wriggled about a bit, trying to escape (trying to rub against him; she thrilled at the friction) and almost laughed as his erection twitched instinctively into her.
Draco felt her squirm beneath him, and almost blushed as he felt his cock twitch. What am I doing? Why on Merlin's green Earth do I feel this way? Is she sniffing me? She was! Hermione Granger, virgin Mudblood (but she's not a Mudblood, is she?), was drawing in the scent of his expensive cologne like she couldn't get enough. It wasn't until that moment that he realized that this was actually going somewhere. He couldn't just trap her like this and not satisfy that niggling desire he'd harbored for so long. He took a small comfort in realizing that anything he did do would be enjoyed, or even welcomed. Experimentally, he lowered his lips to the area where her neck met her shoulder and licked along the silky-smooth skin there.
He expected to be kneed, head butted, slapped (despite that fact that he held both the witch's hands captive in his own). He did not expect the moan that emerged from the woman pinned against him. He pulled away, just enough to look at her, and found that her eyes were closed tightly, and her lips were slightly parted. Her breathing pace had increased, and so encouraged, he tried again. This time, he took the tip of his tongue and traced the outer shell of Hermione's ear. When she whimpered, he thrust his tongue inside.
Hermione moaned at the sensations Malfoy was causing and savored the feel of his hot tongue inside her ear. She pressed her hips closer to his, sighing in pleasure when his breath hitched. As his tongue continued its trek across her neck and the exposed flesh of her shoulder, she lifted her right leg, and slowly curled it around his. That leg rose further, as if it had a mind of its own, until it was locked tightly around his knee, crushing their pelvises together. In response, the hand holding her face withdrew, opting instead to lightly trace the contours of her jaw. His hands were smooth and soft, precisely what she'd expected from the aristocratic wizard. Sighing in content, Hermione focused on the pale finger that was ghosting across her lips. My hands may be out of commission, but that doesn't mean I can't make him squirm. In a quick, fluid motion, she closed her lips over the tip of Malfoy's finger and sucked hard. She would have grinned in delight when his eyes briefly rolled back into his head, but she was much too busy.
"Good Merlin, Granger." Draco moaned as the petite brunette swirled her tongue around his finger. If he didn't know better, he'd say she'd had plenty of practice. If she keeps this up, she'd better be damn willing to go all the way. I'm not sure I can stop.
Reluctantly, he released her hands and pulled away. Hermione whimpered in loss, and he'd be damned if he didn't return the sentiment. The absence of warmth beside him was lamentable, but he had to be sure that she wanted this. Say what you would about the Dragon of the Malfoy clan; no one could deny that he's always a gentleman to prospective lovers. It was how he was raised. The principle had been beaten into him since birth; literally. He couldn't start something unstoppable if there was even the slightest chance she'd regret things come morning. Oh Merlin. Just this morning, I was convinced that she was nothing but a dirty Mudblood. Then Mother's letter came... In the space of an hour, he'd gone from hating her and her dirty blood with a passion to craving and lusting after her, just as passionately.
Although, if he was entirely truthful with himself (which he normally avoided at all costs), he'd wanted her just this way even before finding out her true lineage. Well, maybe not exactly... his eleven year old self didn't even know how to spell what he wanted to do with the delectable treat in front of him. Curiously, he gazed at her. She did seem completely human, with her hair mussed in an extremely attractive fashion, cheeks flushed prettily, robes all askew. Indeed, she looked like a modern interpretation of Aphrodite herself. How could he have possibly missed it before? Listen to me, waxing all poetic. Could it be that this is more than just reluctant attraction? Could I maybe , oh, I don't know, be in lo-
He killed the thought before it could even completely form. Of course he wasn't in love with Hermione. With Granger. Griswald. So what if her passion intrigued him? Did it really matter that her intelligence far outshone every other student in the school? Of course her ability to find the good in every person didn't attract him in any way! So, logically, it was ludicrous to think that he could actually love her.
His attention was torn from his intentions when the girl in question let out a muffled sniffle.
She couldn't help it! He'd been so close, and she'd been so comfortable with her decision... then he had whispered something to her and pulled away. Was she really that hideous? Even overwhelmed with passion, did her blood mean so much? She wasn't even really muggleborn! Of course, Hermione couldn't expect Malfoy to know that; she'd only just found out herself.
All these thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of light as she watched him watch her. Years of classes attended together afforded her the knowledge to determine the exact point he went introspective; his eyes seemed to be out of focus, and his brow had furrowed into emotion, never before seen in public. Hermione squirmed as Malfoy's gaze was once again centered on her, and she locked eyes with him. Oh, those eyes. Pools of molten silver, and just underneath the surface lay foreign emotions, begging to be deciphered. Those were eyes she could spend forever learning; eyes so unlike any she'd ever seen before. Ron wore his heart on his sleeve; always had, she suspected. Even Harry, who had seen and survived so much in his 16 years, was easy to read. Malfoy, however... he was a mystery, an enigma. It would take months or even years to uncover all the quirks and nuances that made up Draco Malfoy.
Not that she wanted to. Oh no, nope, no way, nuh huh. He was means to an end, nothing more, nothing less. Are you sure? asked a small voice inside her head. Are you sure that you're only in it for the sex? Is that truly all you want? Sure, he had a fertile mind and an insatiable thirst for knowledge. So did she. Yes, his ability to keep calm even in the most dire of situations was something to admire. That didn't necessarily mean she was in lo- No. Absolutely not. She wouldn't even think about it. Focus on his body, Hermione. Dredge all these non-lust-related thoughts from your system. You felt his abs, his legs. Firm, lean and wiry, and delightfully packed.
"Decide that was enough, eh?" She challenged, purposely ignoring the fact that her voice was no more than a whisper. "Finally remembered whom you're with?"
Draco was confused. Completely, utterly confused. She was accusing him; of what, exactly? "I never-" His voice was hoarse; he cleared his throat, and started over, that one hand finding his hair again. "I never said that." He lifted the corner of his mouth, the closest he'd ever come to a smile in her presence. "I just wanted to make sure-" Why don't you just walk away, Draco? You've started the process. You're far away enough now that you should just be able to turn, and walk away. Why won't you? "That this is what you want," he finished. This is what I want, the little voice inside his head screamed, and with a jolt, Draco realized it was right. He didn't want to just turn around and walk away. Not when he was so close to having (her) something no one else had ever had. Keep telling yourself that, Dragon. You're delusional. You wouldn't care if a thousand other guys had tasted her; her innocence has nothing to do with your desire for her. Face it. You want her this way because, in your mind, you've already claimed her as yours.
"I asked you a question, Granger," he growled, frustrated with the running dialogue in his mind. He heard her whisper something quietly, and figuring it for an insult, stepped away. "Go on, Granger. Say it just a little louder." His sneer was back.
Hermione blushed down at the floor, uncomfortable knowing that Malfoy had her in such a position. Bravely, she took a step forward, and raised her eyes until their gazes locked. "Call me Hermione. Please," she added, reaching two fingers out and barely caressing the sleeve of his robe. "That way I can at least pretend you don't hate me." This was followed by a brief smile, and she came even closer, until they were toe to toe, and his molten eyes were boring into hers. Even if she'd had doubts before (she hadn't), they would have flown out the window, chased away by the desire she saw rolling through his gaze.
"Hermione..." he whispered as he looked down at her. She thought her name would sound funny from the mouth of the Slytherin Prince, but it didn't. It thrilled her to hear her name spoken in his cultured accent, instead of the impersonal 'Granger' or, even worse, the ever-dreaded 'Mudblood'. Her heart skipped a beat as he said it again, this time with an air of breathlessness as her hands ghosted lightly across his robed shoulder blades. The fabric was cool beneath her fingers, but she could still feel the heat that radiated from his body like a human furnace.
"Come on," he said suddenly, running one perfectly manicured hand down her arm to twine his fingers with hers. He turned to travel down the hall before being jerked almost to the ground because Hermione refused to budge.
"What do you think you are doing?" She hissed, trying unsuccessfully to retrieve her captured hand. She may be under the influence of a hormone-induced lust-haze, but that didn't mean she was going to let the (undeniably attractive) blond in front of her to drag her around as though she were some common whore. Despite her loss of sanity, she still kept a firm hold of her pride.
Sure, spoke the irritating, infuriating voice that awash incessantly present in her mind. You have your pride. That's precisely why you're fraternizing with the enemy in the first place! Because you have your 'pride'.
The bushy-haired brunette took a brief moment to imagine the voice in her head squealing in pain as she stabbed it repeatedly with a fork before shifting her hostility back to Draco. "Unhand me this instant, Malfoy, or I'll hex you into next year!"
"It's after midnight, Granger." Draco turned to face her, speaking slowly as though addressing a small, petulant child. "If we get caught outside of our Dormitories, we'll be given detention." Before she could protest again, he strode purposefully down the corridor. This time, she followed, and he almost smiled. Granger was willingly following him! He snickered to himself. She, Hermione Granger, Queen of Virgins, was following him (willingly, he might add) to the dungeons. All the other Slytherins would be asleep by now, he was sure, and the best place to find solitude in this bloody school (besides the library of course) was his own dorm. Luckily, he was a prefect, and therefore had a room to himself. As long as he could smuggle the Gryffindor girl into the commons undetected, he was sure they would be uninterrupted for the remainder of the night.
"Are... are we going to the dungeons?" Hermione whispered, feeling the air around them grow cooler. She thought she felt it grow gloomier as well, but that was probably just her imagination. I hope. Her captor gave no reply, so she did the only thing she could; she continued to follow him. He wasn't holding her captive; she was captured by only her own emotions, and she couldn't even think of leaving him now. Not when her blood was pumping; not when he'd managed to subdue her thoughts; not when he'd saved her.
Soon enough, they came to the portrait that led to the Slytherin common room. Malfoy whispered the password, and stuck his head inside for a quick look. The moment he knew the coast was clear, he hauled her in after him and climbed the stairs that led to his private room.
The door no more than closed behind them than he pulled her body to his and pressed himself against her warmth. His teeth nipped every inch of uncovered skin on her body; her wrists and neck were soon covered with small red bite marks. Surprisingly, Hermione matched him move for move with ease that Draco didn't expect, especially not from her. She said nothing, just continued allowing her hands to roam his still-cloaked body.
Draco's hands traveled up her arms to her shoulders, and he threw off her cloak and helped her peel off her blouse while she made quick work of his trousers, backing up until the backs of her legs bumped against the large, firm mattress. Taking the upper hand, Draco pushed the brunette back, laying her on his fluffy silver pillows, then crawled up the bed to lay by her side, one leg thrown over hers, pelvis resting in the junction of her thighs. Hermione watched Draco's smooth hands glide softly across her tummy. She was by no means athletic, so the flesh he came into contact with wasn't as firm as she would have liked, and she blushed under his scrutinizing gaze.
They were both completely silent as Draco removed his own cloak, but as he slid his trousers the rest of the way down his hips, the certainty of Hermione's situation finally hit her. Why am I doing this? She didn't know she said it aloud until the faint smirk on Draco's face was replaced with a frown, and he pulled away.
Upon hearing those words, Draco abruptly stopped what he was doing. When the woman in his bed peered up at him from under long brown lashes, he felt heat shoot straight to his groin. He groaned and pulled away, stopping at the edge of the mattress, where he sat facing away from her.
"Why did you stop?" Hermione's voice was breathy as she posed the question. Crawling over to where he was sitting, she grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, exposing even more smooth pale flesh. This man is truly beautiful. Despite his normal attitude, the lioness couldn't deny that one simple fact. Years of Quidditch afforded him well-toned muscles, and his fair complexion was only enhanced by the firm contours. On a whim, she ran her nails lightly up his back, reveling in his shiver; then, she raked them swiftly back down, delighting in his hiss of pain. However, when she leaned around to look at him (pressing her barely covered breasts against his back), his face was emotionless.
"You don't want this," he stated simply. She waited for him to move away, but when he did not, she moved closer. Hermione couldn't tell if he wanted her to disagree, to tell him that she most certainly did want this, or if he was just looking for an escape himself. Vowing to save rational thought for later, she curled around his side; her thighs resting behind him, her head laying in his lap, and looked up at him.
"Draco," She said calmly, ignoring the way his hardness tickled her ear, "I don't like you. I hardly know you! And I know without a doubt that you don't like me." At this, he snorted, but Hermione ignored him and continued. "Don't you think it's natural that I should wonder about our sanity?" When he made no motion to answer, she moved up his bare chest, nipping hard enough to make it hurt, then using her tongue to soothe away the pain. She continued to do so until her chocolate eyes were even with his mercury ones. "I'm in a bad way, Draco, but look." She grasped his had, guided to her panty-covered core, and pressed him against herself, moaning a little at the sensation. Draco's eyes closed as his fingers came into contact with her heat, and he could feel the moisture seeping through her simple cotton knickers. "It's no lie that I need this right now. I want it." Her own hand moved to his crotch, and she gently stroked the bulge concealed there. "It's obvious that you do, too. Forget blood right now, Draco. Forget hatred. Use me to forget everything." With one swift motion, Hermione had straddled him, and undulated her hips, making them both quiver. As he lifted his lips to her neck, he almost missed her whispered plea; "Help me to forget."
Oh, I'll help you, he vowed silently. Without warning, he flipped her over so she was pinned beneath him. He grinned down at her and reached to flick open the clasp of her bra (thank Merlin it was one of those that clasped in the front!). Hermione sighed when her breasts came into contact with the cool air; that sensation didn't last long, for soon thereafter, the rosy tips were engulfed in Draco's hot mouth. She moaned at his ministrations, and it wasn't very long until they had both shed the last vestiges of clothing and lay intertwined and writhing on the satin bed sheets.
"Now, Draco… please…" She couldn't take the heat any longer; it was eating her alive, burning her from the inside out… she couldn't come up with enough clichés to accurately describe the heat that was consuming her. She had never felt like this before. Even with her previous lover, she'd never felt such recklessness, such abandon. Shocked, Hermione realized that she would beg and plead, she would do anything, just as long as Draco would never stop touching her.
He knew how close she was. Her body was practically screaming her need out to him, but he refused to end it just yet. Instead, he smiled devilishly and moved down her body. His tongue caressed her scorching flesh, and he thrilled with her response. With a gentle nudge, Draco parted Hermione's knees and knelt between them.
Hermione's head shot up when she felt hot breath on her core. Draco was nibbling gently at the soft flesh of her inner thigh, and she gasped out loud. The noise caused him to glance up, and their eyes met. "You don't have to do this, Draco…"she whispered breathily. He just nodded, and went back to his business. Her hands blindly grasped his head when she felt his tongue caress her moist folds. If she thought the sensations were different before, then she had just died, and gone to heaven. Draco's tongue moved between her legs in measured licks and laps; she could only hold on for the ride.
He loved the taste of her. He could have feasted for hours, and never asked for anything more. She was sweet and musky, and her moans turned him on more than he believed possible. He could tell she was approaching her peak, her moans had turned into breathless whimpers. Slowly, gently, he moved back up her body, and sank into her molten depths. His sigh echoed her own and slowly, they writhed and gyrated their way to oblivion. When the crests of pleasure finally broke, Hermione sunk her small teeth hard into Draco's shoulder. He groaned in response and pushed deep inside her one last time.
Sated for the present, they separated. Hermione rolled over, and obediently Draco spooned up behind her, wrapped one arm firmly around her waist, and fell fast asleep. His breath evened out, and when Hermione knew he was deep in slumber, she slipped from his embrace, and began dressing in the chilly chamber. Clothes all properly in place, she took a moment to observe the man lying haphazardly across the bed. His hair was a mess, his face shiny with sweat, and he looked more at peace than she'd ever seen him before. She mused for a moment over their actions, and recalling the feeling of him inside her, found it in herself to write him a quick note on a scrap piece of parchment. It wasn't until after she left that she realized that, with all the acts they had just completed, their lips had not once met in a kiss. And only when he awoke would Draco realize that Hermione Griswald, his Hermione, wasn't a virgin.
A/N: Ok, I guessI just have to ask... what did you think? Cringes and waits for rotten tomatoes. But hey! Props on me! Two chapters in two days! I deserve cookies, lol.
Quick Poll: Who out there is a Fooly Cooly fan? My best friend in the whole world got me to sit down and watch it; that show rocks!
Ok, how 'bout all y'all (I really just said that, didn't I?) that are Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans? Or, more specifically, Spike/William the Bloody fans? Can I hear a big hell yeah? Or Possibly just a 'Bloody Hell'? Lol. press the pretty button folks. And I'm still looking for cute lil oneliners! They might not appear in the chapter directly after you send them in, but I'll use them!
