A/N: Thanks for the bday wishes! It was a fun week and I'm a whole year older for it! LOL A quick chapter update for more fun times! Enjoy! hehehe



To handle one Draco Malfoy meant a conscious shift of strategic efforts. Hermione remained in her compromising position, staring down at him, contemplating her next move as he watched her carefully. He was testing her, and that meant his mind was clear of any potion side effects. She leant forward slightly, keeping her eyes on his.

"What's going on Malfoy?" she stated simply, her question loaded.

"From where I'm lying, everything seems to be going swimmingly," he replied freely, unabashed.

Hermione furrowed her brow at his terminology.

She leant forward further, testing his reaction, feathering her fingers across his chest. His breath hitched slightly, but his expression remained unaffected. If anything, her actions were having a more drastic effect on her physical state.

If she continued, he would use it as leverage that she wanted him.

There was something very disconcerting about his behaviour. The very fact that he was not driving this exchange was enough to set off warning bells. Hermione gave him one last inquisitive glance before lifting herself off him. She stood up, re-adjusting her skirt, acting as if there was nothing to it.

"It seems to me, Malfoy... that you've managed to find a way to handle your side effects. I guess that means our contract arrangements have been made redundant," she stated with finality, inadvertently suggesting that she had found a means to control her side effects.

He sat up; combing his fingers through his hair to return some state of order to his tresses. "Let's not get into semantics, Granger. If I recall correctly, the terms were on an as needed basis, and so, remain valid."

"Not from where I'm standing. Last time ...-" Hermione trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable about acknowledging her relations with the other guilty party. She walked over and picked up the abandoned bottle of drink and brought it to her lips as a means of distraction.

The liquid burnt as it coursed down her throat, setting off her sensitive tear ducts that instantly watered her eyes.

She blanched. "What the hell is this stuff?" Hermione yelped, coughing. The Head boy looked back at her, clearly amused.

He lifted his hands up in defence, "Hey, I didn't make you drink it, or dare you to for that matter," he drawled, standing up to face her.

"Must you remind me of my uncharacteristic moment of utter stupidity?" she replied pointedly, her blurred sight clearing.

"I would hardly call it uncharacteristic, unless sleeping with me was a rational decision," he retorted smartly. She glared at him, walking over to the fireplace. Hermione pulled out her wand and lit the fire, stretching out her bottle clasped hand threateningly near the unforgiving flame.

"Granger, you throw that into the fire, and you will regret it," the Head boy took a step forward threateningly. "That's a 200 year old bottle of firewhiskey!" he practically thundered.

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Take it back Malfoy, or your precious drink will be vaporised."

"I can't take it back, Granger, I took your virginity, so fucking accept it!" he retaliated.

She winced.

"You know very well that is not what I meant!" Those tear ducts were threatening their release once again. He was relentless!

His eyes narrowed in such a way, she almost anticipated his malicious come back. "Get over it, Granger. I have."

Hermione's breath caught as she felt the invisible blow to her gut, and she was suddenly overcome with a nefarious desire to hurt him for his words.

"Well, I guess I have too, then. Just ask Blaise." And with that, Hermione threw the bottle into the fire, an eruption of violet flames consuming the hearth. She looked back at the Head boy with complete satisfaction, her pulse hammering against her skin as the strong vapours of the matured drink filled the room, attacking her nostrils.

His fists were clenched, his jaw locked; his eyes dead set and dark, housing an almost unseemly fury that caused her to step back involuntarily.

"Get. Out," his words were barely audible as his teeth gritted with restraint. Hermione was frozen in place, her heart about to leap from her throat.

"Granger, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!" he roared.

Never before had he reacted to her in this way. Hermione leapt into action, bolting toward the portrait hole and fleeing from the head digs without looking back.


Hermione was reduced to tears as she sat, knees to chest on the floor of the astronomy tower, ignoring the crisp air drying her salty tears against her skin. The adrenaline pumping through her had been so great; Hermione had not stopped running until she had distanced herself enough to let her emotions run wild.

She did not know why she had resorted to such passive aggressive tactics. Then again, it was only firewhiskey. Malfoy had reacted like his life depended on that bottle of drink. It was replaceable; at a price, but replaceable nonetheless.

This was more than she could say for what he had taken from her.

One thing was clear; Malfoy was not devoid from the side effects all together. Whatever control he had managed, her behaviour had unleased an emotional reaction in him like no other she had exhibited under the influence of the potion. And it was no longer one of irrational desire. She saw a wrath in his eyes that hinted at physical harm.

Hermione needed to forget.

She wiped her face with her hands quickly and sat up, inhaling the frosty air before standing and making her way down the spiral staircase, carefully.


The fourth floor classroom light was on. Hermione gave a disparaging sigh before she pressed her hand to the door handle and entered quietly, spotting the other Slytherin at his backyard potions lab. She coughed lightly to bring her presence to his attention.

Blaise looked up at her, smiling, then frowning. "Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked, putting his instruments down and walking around the table.

"I am now," she replied cautiously. She didn't know why she had said that: a poor, calculated attempt at flirting, perhaps. He put his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight as he looked back at her with curiosity.

"You look like you've been crying," he replied. Clearly, she had a lot of work to do in the department of innuendo.

Hermione looked away, "I'm fine," she let out quietly. "How are you going here?" she was trying to steer away from the current focus.

Blaise shrugged, "So far, so good," he offered lightly, his interest clearly diverted to her state of being. She realised her hair must have looked a right mess.

"Uhm, need any help?"

He shook his head, "nothing more we can do tonight."

Hermione nodded in understanding, trying to inconspicuously tuck her loose strands behind her ears. "Well, I thought I should see how you were going," she shrugged, turning her back to him and walking to the door. She pressed down on the door handle.

"Hermione, wait," the Slytherin stepped toward her. She remained standing with her back to him. "Malfoy was just being a prat in the meeting today; it's nothing to be upset about. Don't let him get to you," he tried to reassure.

Hermione sighed with resignation, letting her forehead rest against the door, but remained silent. If only it were that simple.

Perhaps it was time to come clean. Hermione slowly turned around, her shoes suddenly piquing her interest in all attempts to avoid his eyes.

"Malfoy and I slept together," she suddenly blurt out, her eyes still downcast.

The most unnerving silence she had ever encountered consumed the space. At least, on her part, she could hear violin strings snap at the melodrama of it all as she reminded herself of what she had just told a Slytherin, the best friend, at that. It was unbearable. Hermione finally forged herself look up at Blaise, trying to hide her discomfort at the situation.

His lips were pressed tight; he was either trying to come to terms with the news or struggling with something else entirely.

Hermione wished she could apparate.

"I know," he finally let out, his face absent of any expressed emotion.

What?

Hermione's lips parted in surprise as she let out as small, "oh," her part in this whole farce becoming even more complicated. She was being played by them all. "Then why didn't you say anything? I mean...ugh...not even yesterday?"

She could see his mind reeling behind those dark sapphire eyes.

"I did, in so many words. You just didn't pick up on it." He pulled his hands from his pockets and turned to shuffling things within his reach, clearly uneased by the direction of the discussion. Hermione's mind swam through the pool that housed every interaction with him, including the one in his bedroom prior to their intimate exchange.

She stopped mid lap. Blaise had referred to the "connection" she and Malfoy shared.

"He's already told you, hasn't he?" she asked carefully, realisation dawning on her as to why Malfoy had almost blown his top. He had told Blaise, and in turn, she had told Malfoy about her and Blaise, in her own way.

Only now, Blaise was unaware that Malfoy probably knew. She shut her eyes in an attempt to clear her mind.

"I guessed. He affirmed it. He's not exactly boasting about it in the Slytherin common room," Blaise admitted. She opened eyes, catching his weary smile.

Of course, the Head boy had a reputation to protect.

"Then why did you still want to...you know?" she directed, clearly confused as to why Blaise wasn't the least bit deterred by her having been with Malfoy.

"Come on, Hermione, you know I like you." He spoke like he was stating the obvious. "It's not real with you and Malfoy..." he was momentarily lost in thought before catching her gaze once again. "Is it?"

Hermione could only answer with a question, "How can it be?"

Blaise regarded her silently. She found his contemplative state annoying, just wishing they would get on with something to rid her mind of unwanted thoughts.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she suddenly asked, her voice slightly pitched to evidence her displeasure at the current situation.

He shrugged. "You gave an interesting response, is all," he commented lightly. "One would think you'd say 'no' in disgust, but you seem to have a dependence on his views on the matter."

What? "Blaise, I don't know what you're on about; anyone in their right mind would not doubt for a second that Malfoy and I are like chalk and cheese. This whole - whatever you want to call it...it's all because I got caught up in a whole load of bollocks."

She practically shouted the last part.

Blaise stared back at her, visibly stunned by her vocals. Hermione pulled her hair tie out, seeking an outlet of distraction from her flustered state and the pending tears threatening to unleash themselves like waterfalls. She shook her hair about and began to pull it back to re-tie it while staring at the wall, blinking incessantly. She was an emotional train wreck, steaming with emotions and she needed an outlet.

Blaise.

Her hair in place once again, an element of control regained, she looked back at him with determination. "I can't go back to my dorm room," she said flatly, but with underlying purpose.

The Slytherin took it as his cue to smile cheekily. "And what do you propose to do about it?" he tested.

Hermione gave him a silent look, and turned to walk out of the classroom, ignoring his questions of where she was going. As expected, he followed, catching her in the hallway, right next to her sanctuary.


"Hermione, stop. What's this all about?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion. She turned to him.

"What if I told you there is another room in this part of the corridor?" she suddenly asked, ignoring his puzzled expression.

"I'd say you must be seeing things. There are no other rooms along here."

Hermione raised a brow and proceeded to walk toward the entry to her safe haven.

She was standing outside the door.

"What about now?" she queried, knowing full well he would be even more baffled by her behaviour. He returned her question with a blank stare, shaking his head as if to say she was out of her mind.

Hermione smiled, and turned to face the door, pushing down the handle and letting it open. She stepped in and moved to face the Slytherin once more.

"You sure?" she gave him her most patronising voice. His jaw dropped, his eyes almost fell out of their sockets as he stared, bug-eyed, at the now very visible room.

"What the – "

"One can never be too certain of what lies behind these walls, Blaise," she announced, stepping aside and gesturing him to come in. He looked back at her, and gave her a lop-sided grin laced with submission before acquiescing to her invite.

"Wow, how long have you known about this place?" he said, walking over to her desk, running his hands over the velvet armchair as he scanned the room. Hermione shut the door quietly.

"A while actually," she walked over and lit the fire.

"Does anyone else know about it?"

Hermione tensed. "No."

He seemed to like her response and sat down in the chair, leaning back in much the same way as a certain other Slytherin. Hermione ignored the comparison her brain drew. He seemed to be asking her something but she failed to register.

"Hmm? sorry, what did you say?" she refocused her gaze on him,

"Do you mind if I check the potions ingredients you have?" he asked with added emphasis, signalling at her potions set-up in the far corner. She had barley used it.

"Sure," she shrugged. He stood up and walked over, making a note to brush past her rather than move around the obstacles in his way. He caught her hand as he did so, pulling her along with him to the small ingredients cupboard.

She smiled at the gesture, taking it as his attempt to make peace for his earlier remarks. They walked over together. He let go of her hand and began to scan the items, she let eyes fall over his hair, his broad shoulders emphasised by the pull of his jumper across his back.

"You know, we could make use of a couple of things in here," Blaise interrupted her state of fantasy.

"Really? Err, that's great. Take whatever you think you need," she waived. He straightened up, and turned to her. She was suddenly aware of their close proximity as she felt his breath graze her cheek.

Hermione considered moving to place a more respectable distance between them, but he brought his hands up to cup her face before she could decide. A shiver of anticipation rushed through her.

"Perfect," he murmured, before his lips brushed over hers, in the slightest of kisses. Her eyelids fell at the contact, the unsatisfied need that Malfoy had stirred in her caressed by another Slytherin's lips.

It wasn't enough.

She brought her hand up and into his hair and pulled him in desperately, her lips attacking his without concern as she opened her mouth to signal her intentions, letting her tongue slip into his as he yielded to her initiation.

It was hot and heavy, and she was leading him back against the wall, pushing herself flush against him as his back hit the stone.

Now he was reacting, as he took control of the kiss and invaded her mouth, his tongue circling hers with purposeful strokes. Hermione felt his hands slide down her torso, grazing over her skirt clad bottom before coming to rest at her hips. His grip was firm and she let her hips roll into him, signalling her need. He groaned against her lips.

"Too...many...clothes," she breathed, as he his kisses became long and slow, sucking at her bottom lip, his tongue flicking to tease her mouth with its warmth.

She felt his lips smile against hers as he brought his hands up and began to pull at her jumper, she followed suit. They broke apart to give each other just enough time to remove the offending articles and toss them to the floor, the skin closer to contact as she felt his body heat through his shirt.

His mouth trailed down to her neck, she exhaled with delight, her fingers trembling restlessly as she hastily moved to unbutton his shirt. Hermione whimpered as his tongue worked over her pulse point, the pressure of his mouth causing her to almost lose sight of her goal.

She wanted Blaise Zabini. Naked.

His hands came into contact with her bare skin as they slid under her shirt and up to her breasts. He was teasing her, testing her limits as she struggled to get his shirt open, where she wanted it. Finally, her hands rested against his solid chest, her nails gently scraping down to his navel as he caught her off guard with a particularly wicked tease to her earlobe.

Hermione pulled back, her chest heaving. He watched her silently as she lifted her shirt up and off, and undid her bra. His eyes drifted downward, but she didn't pay attention, she was too busy pulling his tie off, then his shirt, so they were both half naked.

His tanned skin was a striking contrast to the Head boy's, but she took in his heavier build with hungry eyes. She looked up at the Slytherin's heated gaze, chancing an attempt at a seductive smile.

It was the natural progression of things: being in control, leading like the Head girl should.

He reached in and caught her lips in a searing kiss, his hands kneading her breasts eagerly, tweaking her peaks with his fingers, feeding the building tension below.

Hermione's hands travelled to the Slytherin's belt, unfastening the offending hooks and zip in record time as she tugged at his trousers, pulling them down. She stood back for him to kick them off, and took the opportunity to pull off her panties from underneath her skirt. She almost thought she heard a guttural growl escape his lips as he caught her gaze, her panties in her hand.

She tossed them aside, a small smirk gracing her lips as he pulled her in again. She kissed his lips again, then moved to trail her mouth across his jaw, down his neck. She moved in closer, letting her tongue run over his earlobe and suck gently, like he had done to her. His grip on her waist tightened as he leant further into the wall, sighing.

Hermione continued her ministrations down his chest.

"The chair," he murmured.

"Hmmm?" she was too busy making her way down to his navel, before testing what his reaction might be if she let her tongue sweep into it. He moaned aloud, she smiled against him, a slight boost to her confidence emerging. She gave him a long drawn out, open kiss just above the waistband of his boxers, as her hand brushed over his obvious arousal.

"Hermione," he moaned.

She pulled back at the call of her name. Malfoy had never said her anything during their throes of passion, or whatever it could be called, other than the occassional grunt and moan. She stumbled slightly, abashed as his vocals served to re-affirm that she was actually in the middle of having it off with Blaise Zabini.

"You okay?" she heard him ask as she had sat back on her legs in her kneeled position, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, I...err...just didn't expect that," she muttered.

"Expect what?" he asked, his unsure tone apparent.

Hermione looked up at him, and shook her head. Her core throbbed with unfulfilled release, a sign that this was not the time for articulating her inexperience.

She smiled back at him and stood up, leaning into him once again. He seemed to accept her response as he came off the wall, his full height now apparent. She craved the feel of skin on skin, bringing her arms around his neck as his mouth captured her lips.

Hermione suddenly felt his hands crawl over her skirt. In one swift move he gripped the underside of her thighs, lifting her up and opening her legs so that she was forced to wrap them around his torso for support. She was certain he could feel the warmth and wetness of her core as she locked herself in place.

He walked them over to the armchair and sat down, the velvet material against their skin a luxurious addition. Hermione was straddling him on top, perfectly positioned over his arousal. She ground into him, desperate for some friction. Blaise's hands came under her skirt, caressing her, moaning at her state of readiness. She let her hand crawl underneath as well, deeper again behind the material of his boxers. She pulled his arousal out, stroking it gently, relishing the feel of what she couldn't see.

"Guide it in," he muttered between kisses to her chest.

She hesitated at his direction, unsure of herself and the pressure of her grip. His hands wrapped around her hips and he lifted her slightly.

"It won't break," he chuckled at her obvious trepidation.

Hermione positioned him at her entrance before gently coming down over him.

They both groaned as he filled her, the Slytherin's head falling back against the head of the armchair, his grip on her tightening.

"Sit up on your knees a little, then come back down," he drew out heavily, guiding her movements in this new position.

The sensation was overwhelming as she felt him slide completely into her as she came down onto him.

"Good, keep going," he managed, his voice raspy with need, relaxing his hold on her.

Realising she had control of the pace, Hermione slowly lift herself up, and just as slowly came down, feeling every single nerve ending within her spark up with life. He seemed to hit a particularly sensitive spot in this position and she almost gasped as he pulled her down with a little more force the second time round.

Falling into the rhythm that made them both pant blissfully, she continued to move against him, rolling gently on her way down as she discovered the friction on her bundle of nerves was enough to forget everything and focus on the sensations they created.

Their movements continued, shielded by the pleated Gryffindor skirt, concealing the forbidden activities of the duo.

Not because they were Slytherin and Gryffindor.

It was because the Gryffindor was fraternising with the best friend of one Head boy.

The Head boy she had slept with, the one who had taken her first.

It was messed up.

But, she had complete control of it.


A/N: Lemme know if you expected that! Is Hermione as in control as she thinks she is? Is blaise just an opportunist? Is Malfoy somewhat psychotic? Hmmm xxx