Another One Shot for Harry Potter. Please read and review.

Disclaimer: I own no rights to Harry Potter

Breathe

He couldn't escape her. He hated her. But she was his sin. A discretional pleasure that he couldn't get away from. As soon as she touched him, his skin burned with desire and need. He was hooked. It was as though she had some imaginary claws in him, he was trapped. He couldn't get away. It all started in her eyes, hidden beneath her bookworm exterior, was a playful temptress that only he could bring out. She was playful and her eyes always coaxed him on. From their verbal battles in public, to their intimate rendezvous in the privacy of their Heads Common room. One look of her eyes, and he was on the edge.

She was in his mind. Like a record playing on loop. One that he could not escape. He replayed the previous night, he looked forward to the next. There was no escaping her. It was obsession. He didn't know how much more of her he could take. But he could never get enough. He needed to know if she was as obsessed as him. His every thought was somehow brought back to her. He asked himself, was it too late to find out what she was thinking?

He had intentions of asking her that night. But as soon as the door had shut and they were alone, she pounced on him, pushing him back into the arm chair next to the open fire. Her hips grinding on hers slowly, while her mouth attacked his. They pulled apart when asphyxiation brought them both to a breathless halt. It was always hard to breathe around her. The minx knew what to do to tempt him.

It was not love. He always had to remind himself of that. There were no feelings between them, except, perhaps hatred. It was just a game. It was only ever a game. A game of who would give in first. Usually him, he hated to admit. He couldn't deny her. Couldn't deprive himself of her. He had to remind himself that it was only that. Only sex. He was not interested in her. He couldn't be.

They stayed up until all early of the night. Both matching one another in insatiability. 5 minutes recovery, that's all they needed and they were ready to go again. They frequently visited the early hours of the morning. 3 even 4am. Starting at the end of their patrols around 11pm.

"Draco" she moaned, breaking him out of his trance. The husky, silky moans of her voice echoed in his mind. Permanent imprints. He would not escape. He couldn't. She was stuck in his head. Her sultry voice would stick in his head the following day, and it only encouraged him on. He gave in, flipping them over. With a flick of his wand, they were both naked. He nibbled his way down her body and started working on her soaking core.

He was obsessed with her. She was his obsession. His weakness. His truth. His life line. He came alive when he was with her. He couldn't help it. He could antagonise her throughout the day. Bully her, tease her. Build up the tension so she would get worked up. There were no feelings. Their sex was built from hatred. The more hatred, the hotter it was.

Breathe...

Her voice sang out a harmonious moan as he flicked over her clit, her slit. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling roughly on the strands as she came for him. Screaming his name. He couldn't take any more. He stood up and slipped his hard member to the hilt inside her. Not giving her time to adjust he ploughed into her with desire that had built up all day. She teased him. He would catch her looking at him, her eyes darting over his body. He loved the attention she gave him. He craved it. But when she begged him, he couldn't deny her. He took her.

Her hips rocked against his in a rhythmic way. She was every bit as obsessed as he was. At least, she looked like she was. She begged him. She moaned. She tried to take control but he easily overpowered her. One hand on her hips to guide himself. The other holding her hands above her head.

Breathe...

He felt himself getting closer. His breathing erratic. No symmetry. It was a constant battle to breathe while focusing on the witch in front of him. He made sure she always got off first. He had heard rumours of guys who came then left. He was never that guy. He always made sure the woman finished, even if that meant that he didn't find release. Hermione was always very appreciative of this method, and gave the best blow jobs when he needed that little bit extra. He hated how much he loved that about her.

Skin on skin, breathless together. Alone. There was this spell that came over him. One that made him forget about everything and everyone else. All he could focus on was her. He needed this spell to break. But he didn't want it to. He couldn't face it if it did. He wanted – No – Needed her. He needed the temptress beneath him. She was in his head. Carved into stone. Her body was perfect. Perfect proportions, she tasted incredible. She knew what she wanted, and she got it. She got him

Breathe...

He was close. He could feel her walls tightening around him. She mumbled a small warning. A few incoherent words. He knew by now the signs of her body that she was close. He didn't need her words. But he never complained to hearing her breathless moans. She tightened, and he felt the warm flow of her honey surrounding him. This coaxed his own release. A few final thrusts, and he came deep within her. He waited until she came down from her high, and once they found their breath again, she turned to him

"That all you've got?" She asked playfully. He growled low in his throat and rolled over, ready for round 2.