Author's Note: Now, I don't know about you guys, but I absolutely hate it when an fanfic author leaves a chapter as a kiss-cliffhanger and then introduces the next chapter with useless information and thoughts with no relation to the event at hand. But, I realised why they do it. I kinda' had to. To prove the importance of it. Sorry in advance.

Right, so I've been getting some requests to include more of the other characters, and I completely agree. I'll try my best, not this chapter, but the next. I promise it'll have a lot of the other character's input.

Disclaimer: Nothing, but the plot of this story belongs to me. All characters and such, are owned by JKR.

Word Count: 2, 422. (Short, but I think it's worth it. Or not.)

Warnings: Bad Language, Innuendoes, Slytherin Sex God Malfoy and all that implies - figure it out?

Chapter: (10) Winning and Losing.

Questions:

Yours truly,
- LiveLoveLaugh.

Draco Malfoy had kissed a lot of girls in his lifetime.

Blondes, brunettes, red-heads and a few gingers. Most of them were sluts, or just desperate for his attention, most of them part of his fan club - though internally, everyone was a part of his fan club -, none of them Hufflepuff (ick), and all of them smoking hot.

But none of them - not one - made him feel like-..like..this. Whatever the fuck this was.

They were alright kissers, most of the time, though some tended to shove their tongues down his throat. He didn't mind, it wasn't as if he'd have to do it after he'd slept with them. He'd forced his eyes shut, so they wouldn't get all emotional and shit. And then there were the compliments, sweet nothings and maybe fake emotions whispered into their ears. But he never hurt them, not really. He wouldn't rape them, force them to do it, they were more than willing. And they knew what they were getting into - even the stupid ones -, that it was nothing but a one night thing.

But right now, God, right now all of that had gone to shit.

When he'd grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against him, before bringing his lips down onto hers, the intention was: to scare her, shut her up, pull away - probably wipe his mouth - and walk away like a pompous arse. But all out that went out the window the moment he felt the remarkable feeling of her feather-soft, moist lips against his.

The contact had sent a strange mixture of warmth and chills down his spine. It was new, he wasn't used to it and he wished he never got used to it. He wanted to do it whenever he wanted to, in front of whoever the hell was present. His eyes had closed on contact, but this time, it was because he wanted to. He wanted to drone out all the other senses; sight, smell, whatever, and just feel Her.

Hermione yelped, her eyelids closing before their lips even met. It was as if her nerves had been electrocuted, sparks jolting through he being. She felt it all the way down to her toes.

She couldn't take it. Couldn't take that she was kissing Draco Malfoy and her body was enjoying it immensely. Her hands went up to his chest, intending on pushing him away and making a run for it, but when her palms felt the smooth, firm muscle underneath, they fell weak, merely keeping themselves on his torso.

She pulled away with all the strength she had, still in his embrace, gasping. "Malfoy-"

He wasn't listening, only leaning down towards the addictive taste which was Her. "Stop talking, Granger."

He applied his lips to hers once again.

Godric.

It was a horrid to have uttered - even mentally - the name of Gryffindor's founder, being a loud-and-proud Slytherin. But at this moment, he couldn't care less. He didn't care which God or powerful wizard he silently thanked, as long as he could continue doing this.

He needed more. He needed to taste her, all of her. So, when his fingers skimmed up and down her arms, causing her to shudder, he pressed his lips into hers even more, coaxing her mouth open. She gasped at his forwardness, a sound that set aflame his want. He growled, deep in his throat, slipping his tongue past her lips at the opportunity.

Hermione's mind reeled. Don't do this. What are you doing? Stop. STOP. But she just couldn't bring herself to listen to logic at the moment.

Instead; wanting to give in to basic instinct, wanting to forget all the rules and all that was expected of her, she kissed him back.

Her hands gingerly moved up to his shoulders, then neck, then her fingers thread through the ends of his platinum blond hair. She let her tongue touch his, and it was the smartest thing she had ever done. She felt as if she was on fire, burning, even with the chilly air on her back.

He tilted his head, one of his hands firmly on her hip, pulling her closer and closer, while the other was by her neck, his thumb tipping her head up to meet his kisses, the inventive manoeuvres of his tongue.

She tugged on his hair, not gently, when he teased her tongue with his. He tasted so good, so intoxicating. Spicy, minty, sweet - all at the same time. She couldn't get enough.

He pulled away first, breathing heavily. She opened her eyes, to see him searching her face.

When Hermione regained her breath, she spoke softly, her voice coming back to her. "Why-why did you do that?"

Draco smirked down at her. She looked thoroughly snogged, and he was glad to have been the one to cause this - her reddened cheeks, swollen lips and dazed eyes.

"I'll tell you when I find out."

She rolled her eyes, despite the heat rising to her cheeks. She pushed him away, catching him off guard. He balanced himself, light on his feet.

She couldn't face him, even when she said. "Touch me again, and I'll hex you to Antarctica and back."

He watched her dash into school, not quite wanting to believe what just happened.

She was an enigma.

Later on in the day, just after Quidditch practise, Theo, Blaise and Draco deposited their brooms into the supply shed. Whilst inside, Draco leaned against the door, as the other two tried to make their way through the cluster of mess.

"What the hell is this place?" Blaise groaned, repeatedly stepping on the squishy toys splayed all over the floor.

"Remind me why we didn't bring our own brooms, Captain." Theo directed it at Draco, tossing the old broom onto a pile by the corner.

Draco shrugged, smirking. "If we can play well on these, we'll kill them with our own brooms."

Today was the final, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The rivalling house had won more of these games, but that wasn't going to happen this year, not if Malfoy had anything to do with it. He'd had all of his team mates train in old, rubbish brooms that should have been classified as hazardous and accident prone. They started whining, and he'd replied with 'grow some balls and play'. They did, - the playing part obviously.

"So, Malfoy." Theo started, wiping his hands against his trousers as he emerged from the shed. "Status on the Granger-bet."

Draco silently watched as Blaise still pushed past the mess, further into the shed - out of ear shot, most likely. He turned to Theo, smirking a little triumphantly.

Theo shook his head slowly, grinning. "No."

Draco pushed himself off the door, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Oh, yes."

"No." He repeated, louder, incredulous.

"Your lack of faith in my pure sexiness upsets me."

"You didn't actually - I mean, shit, that's impressive." He raised his eyebrows. "Did she kiss you back?"

The Malfoy merely smirked wider, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly.

"No."

"Fuck yes."

"Holy Salazar. And then what?"

Draco stopped, thinking. Then, what? "Uh," He remembered her actions and started questioning them. Was she upset, were they going to be in this annoying, uncomfortable position for the rest of the year? "She...ran."

"She ran?"

"She ran." He repeated, then decided to clarify. "Quickly."

"Goddamn it, Draco." Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Forget that for now. How was she?"

Draco's mouth turned up in a smile. His eyes glinted, the memories of last night flashing across them.

His gaze was deep in thought when he replied. "Granger. She was so, bloody Granger."

"Potter with the Quaffle. Passes it to Thoma- and it's intercepted! By Malfoy no less!"

The stadium was filled, glinting red and green. There was the constant, almost-deafening sound of cheering echoing throughout the night. Hermione sat on the freezing bench, her hands on her lap in front of her as she watched on in her Gryffindor scarf and wool coat. She wasn't standing, jumping and swearing loudly like the rest of her house-mates, but she was spectating. Being the quick learner that she was, she grew accustomed to the rules and regulations of the sport, though there was one thing that bothered her. How the hell did they do it?

Her eyes darted, glued to the Quaffle most of the time. Every so often, they would traitorously linger on the blond soaring the skies for a second or two. She'd lose her concentration, her sight on the Quaffle, and have to find it again amongst the blurry athletes and balls. This happened more often than you would expect.

Hermione looked down, at her hands. She could still feel his silky hair between her fingers, his taste as if it was permanently absorbed into her lips.

She snapped out of it when Zacharias yelled louder than necessary. "MALFOY SCORES! AND MAKES IT LOOK TOO EASY."

"Seventy-fourty, to Gryffindor. Isn't that-" Luna's voice seemed unheard by the Slytherin's, who cheered as if they were winning.

It also seemed irrelevant to the other commentator, as he interrupted massively. "- Come on, Weasley. Chin up." Ron threw him a dirty look from his position by the hoop. Smith continued, chuckling a little. "There's the lad. Strapped your balls back on."

"Mr Smith!" McGonnagall shouted from the stands, her voice muffled by the Slytherin crowd's laughing. She reprimanded him as much as she could with the game still at its peak. "Such language is unacceptable!"

Zacharias coughed a little into the speaker. "Sorry, Professor." He didn't sound sorry, though.

Even Hermione laughed a little at his joke/insult also, watching as Ron's face went as red as his hair. Then, her eyes landed on him again. He looked in deep concentration, determined to tip the scoreline. She had to admire him, in his element, on form. He flew with motive, his every move calculated and defined.

Then, out of nowhere, Harry shot up into the sky, Malfoy on his trail.

"Is that- Potter thinks he's found the snitch! And Malfoy's not far behind."

The two Seekers were flying higher than the rest, their brooms now almost completely vertical. Hermione, with the rest of the girls, collectively gasped. They were dangerously close to falling off, and they all knew it. It didn't seem like the two cared, though, being the reckless freaks they were.

"It's a one-on-one, Draco Malfoy versus Harry Potter once again!"

Draco reached his arm out towards the golden snitch now currently paused in the air, wings fluttering. It wouldn't help with his balance, Hermione knew, and that frightened her. Her heart was beating fast, her blood pumping in her ears. She silently prayed they'd both be safe, though she could feel herself root for Malfoy to get the snitch. She felt horrible for not instantly wanting her best friend for so many years, and house mate to win, but she couldn't help her mixed feelings.

Then, something happened. Hermione's heart dropped.

The snitch had made one of its crazy, unexpected moves and flew straight down the pitch. Draco swore, off balance a lot. Harry's broom was once again horizontal. Taking a deep breath, Draco spun in the air skilfully before diving down for the snitch.

He needed to win. He worked too hard to let it go now. Even Potter didn't take the risk of going down after the game-changer at top speed.

The crowd became silent, incredibly silent, with everyone who was sitting now standing in awe and anticipation. Hermione slowly stood, her breathing ragged and hard. Everyone's eyes were on the diving Slytherin, and even the commentators were hushed.

A few feet above the pitch grounds, Draco's fingers closed around the reluctant snitch. Finally, he thought triumphantly, closing his eyes. The wind blew his hair back and whistled in his ears. It was serene.

But the crowd didn't cheer, since Draco wasn't stopping and rectifying his position. He still headed down to the ground at top speed, and it didn't look like he had any time to fly back up, or even stop for that matter.

Malfoy, stop. Stop, dammit!

Hermione absently patted her robes for her wand, her eyes not wavering from Draco's now falling form. She could Wingardium Leviosa. She could save him. She could stop the maniac. But she left her wand in her bag, and couldn't remember that fact. Not now, when all that was reflected in her shiny eyes, was the image of Draco Malfoy falling to his death.

Panic welled up in her chest, threatening to make her crumble. Draco didn't seem to care that he was falling, or maybe he didn't notice.

All the players yelled at him to fly up, do something. "Malfoy, watch out!" "Oi, Malfoy! Stop!" "What are you doing?! Move!" He didn't.

Draco noticed the lack of cheering, and slowly lifted his eyelids, only to find himself headed straight for the ground.

CRASH!

All the girls screamed, the boys cringed with wide eyes. Hermione screamed too, but no sound came out. She was rendered soundless. But, with some sense still left in her, she was one of he firsts to push past the fans desperately and sprint down the stairs towards the groaning Slytherin now writhing in pain.

Draco. Draco, you need to be okay. I swear to God, if you die, I will kill you.

McGonnagall was down to the scene in moments. Everyone surrounded the injured Seeker, and all the players flew down, none quite celebrating as yet.

He wasn't in an odd position, but was in immense pain. "Fuck!" He was groaning, clutching his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was impatiently trying to move.

Hermione tried to move her way to the front, but was blocked by his adoring fans, who were fanning him and screaming girlishly and irritatingly.

The snitch lay unmoving by his twitching fingers.

Nobody even noticed when she crouched down and pocketed it swiftly.

She wanted to help him, tell him that he was going to be okay and not to move like a bloody idiot because he was making it worse.

But she was Hermione Granger and he was Draco Malfoy and she had no choice but to calm the fuck down and wait to get him alone.

Later. She told herself, trying to breath normally. She backed away from the scene, not letting her weak knees let her down.

*Evil laugh* Review.