A/N: I wanted to start by saying a huge thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a review! Knowing that people are reading and enjoying the story really motivates me to write more.
So, we saw in the last chapter that Draco really isn't thrilled at the idea of marrying Pansy Parkinson (or any other Pure-blood girl in his year for that matter). I always found it interesting how the books hinted at a romantic relationship between Draco and Pansy yet, unlike most of the other characters, Draco doesn't end up with his high school sweetheart. In this fic, I decided to explain that by having Pansy like Draco more than he likes her! He enjoys the attention, but she just isn't pretty or interesting enough for him to marry.
Anyway, here is the next chapter. If you like it, please do leave a review. Enjoy!
Chapter Two
Hermione felt considerably lighter about the whole Ron-and-Lavender situation when she woke up the next morning. She was still hurt and jealous, obviously, but at least now she was doing something about it. And if things went as she'd hoped, she wouldn't be feeling hurt and jealous for long.
Still, she couldn't help but feel a bit relieved that neither Ron nor Lavender were in the Great Hall at breakfast. She'd been coping well so far, but she didn't know how she'd react at seeing his stupid oblivious face after everything that happened.
"Where's Ron?" she asked as she helped herself to some toast, trying to keep her voice light.
"Where do you think?" Harry grumbled.
Ginny, who was sat next to her boyfriend Dean, gave Hermione an apologetic look. "Merlin, sorry about last night, Hermione. I swear, my brother can be an absolute prat sometimes. You must feel awful after seeing him kiss Lavender in front of everyone like that."
"I'm fine," Hermione said, honestly.
Ginny blinked at her in surprise. Too late, Hermione realised that Ginny didn't know about her plan with Malfoy so would expect Hermione to be distraught still.
"I mean," Hermione gabbled hurriedly, "I'm still a bit upset, of course. But Harry really cheered me up when he found me in the corridor last night."
A strange look flickered over Ginny's face, but it was gone so quickly Hermione thought maybe she'd imagined it. Ginny relaxed her face into a smile and poured herself some more tea.
"Good," Ginny said. "Good."
Hermione spent the rest of the day planning out her ruse with Draco Malfoy. She was thankful that there was so much to think about: it kept her busy, and took her mind off feeling miserable about Ron.
First, Hermione had to decide whether she even wanted to do this at all. Getting into a relationship – even a pretend one – was a big deal, and it wasn't something that she was entering into lightly. To help make her decision, Hermione considered the advantages and the disadvantages of her plan.
The biggest and most obvious drawback was that she would have to date Draco Malfoy. It was no secret that Hermione held little love for the Slytherin. First of all, he was utterly obnoxious. He'd made life unpleasant for Harry, Ron and Hermione since pretty much the first day of Hogwarts; in third year Hermione got so fed up with him that she actually punched him in the face. Secondly, he was a complete bigot. He held some very questionable views about Pure-blood supremacy, and routinely flung slurs at Hermione for her Muggle-born heritage. And finally, he was an instrument of house elf slavery. He'd actually kept Dobby as his house elf before his father, Lucius Malfoy, 'gave' Dobby a sock, thereby freeing him. Bizarrely, this was the worst crime of all to Hermione. She could deal with Malfoy being unpleasant to her. But for Draco to be unpleasant to sweet little Dobby offended her morals beyond anything else. She very nearly pulled out of their plan just for that.
But the more Hermione thought about it, the more Malfoy's obnoxiousness began to seem like a blessing in disguise.
Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew that pretending to date someone could get messy, emotionally. She hoped she'd be able to keep herself detached and business-like throughout the affair, but there was a real risk that she'd end up developing feelings for whomever she dated.
With Malfoy, there was no chance of that. He was such a prat that Hermione would have to be under the effects of a seriously strong Love Potion to find him attractive. He was simply unfancyable.
So Hermione decided to push aside her beliefs on house elf activism just this once and ignore the fact that Malfoy was a monumental tosser.
The next issue was that Hermione wasn't sure her plan would even work. The whole point of the ruse was to make Ron jealous that she was dating someone else. But if Ron really was as smitten with Lavender as he seemed, there was a good chance that Ron simply wouldn't care. Perhaps he only had eyes for Lavender and that was that.
Hermione had to accept the fact that this was a possibility. Still, it seemed likely that Ron would be at least a little bit bothered by her dating another boy. She was pretty sure that Ron was somewhat interested in her – or at least he had been, until Lavender came along. Moreover, he'd been quite jealous of Viktor Krum when Hermione went to the Yule Ball with him in fourth year, so it wasn't irrational to think that Ron would behave similarly if she actually started dating someone. In any case, she didn't have anything to lose by pushing ahead with the plan. If she dated Malfoy and Ron got jealous, then her plan will have worked and she could break up with Malfoy. If she dated Malfoy and Ron didn't get jealous, then she would just have to accept that her plan had failed, and she would still break up with Malfoy.
The final problem Hermione considered was the most troublesome. This was that Harry, Ron and the rest of her friends all hated Malfoy. She couldn't see them approving of her relationship with him. In fact, she was worried that they'd even ostracise her for associating with him.
Hermione decided to discuss that with Malfoy tonight. Perhaps she could force Malfoy to be at least civil to her friends as a condition of the plan, or something.
The school day was drawing to an end and Hermione realised she still hadn't sent Malfoy the timings for their meeting. Pulling out her wand, she charmed her own Galleon to send a message to the coin she had given to Draco. She'd designed it so that the numerals on the coin, which represented the serial number on a real Galleon, would change to the time she had denoted for the meeting. She watched as its surface began to bubble and shift as the numbers changed.
12:00, it read.
The clock struck midnight.
Everyone else in the girls' dormitory was asleep. As quietly as she could, Hermione slipped out of bed and began to change out of her pyjamas. (She would've gone to bed in her clothes to save time, but that would have aroused suspicion.) As she dressed herself, Hermione found that she'd put on her nicest shirt and pair of jeans for her meeting with Draco tonight. Well, it's only natural, she told herself. I don't want to give Draco any reason to insult me about my appearance.
She crept out of the dormitory and out of the Gryffindor Common Room, then made her way down the school corridors, casting a quick Lumos charm to light her way. She felt on edge as she slunk through the shadowy halls. If Filch catches me out after hours, I'll be in detention with ten points from Gryffindor before I can say 'rule-breaking'. Ideally she would have borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak, or the Marauder's Map, but she hadn't told Harry about her plan. Not yet, anyway.
Finally, she arrived at the wall where the door to the Room of Requirement normally materialised. Pacing up and down the length of the wall, she wished very hard for a room in which to meet Draco Malfoy. By her third length, the door had materialised. Casting a quick glance behind her, she pushed it open.
Inside was quite possibly the most inviting room Hermione had ever been in. The room had taken the shape of a very large bedroom. In the centre of the room was a king size, four-poster bed that immediately reminded Hermione of how very tired she was after staying up until midnight. Opposite the bed was a fireplace. Inside it blazed a roaring fire which filled the room was warmth and gentle light. It was very the picture of comfort.
The only thing that looked out of place was the odd display on the far wall of the room. Hermione moved closer, feeling her shoes sink into the soft spongy rug underfoot, hoping to get a better look. There appeared to be objects mounted on the wall. Peering closely at one, Hermione saw it was a blindfold. That's odd, Hermione thought. Why would a blindfold be mounted to a wall? She supposed it was a sleep mask for people hoping to have a snooze in the bed.
Why there was even a bed in what was supposed to be a meeting room, Hermione did not stop to consider. Instead, she moved on to the next thing displayed. This time, a long coil of rope hung from the wall. Well, I suppose rope is always a useful thing to have around, Hermione thought uncertainly.
The next thing on the wall was a strange tasselled object made of leather. Taking it off the wall to examine it, Hermione finally recognised it as a whip. This time, Hermione could not think of any reasonable explanation for having a whip in a bedroom. Was there some magical horse-like creature lurking around somewhere, which she would have to catch with the rope, calm with the blindfold and whip into submission?
She moved swiftly on, hoping she'd be able to draw a connection between the different objects. However, she did not recognise the last object on the wall. She decided, again, to remove it from the wall to look at it more closely. It was a teardrop-shaped object, small enough to fit in her hand, and seemingly made from crystal. But as soon as she picked it up, the object began to change shape.
It was only when the object took on an unmistakeably phallic appearance that all the pieces began to slide into place.
It was a dildo, Hermione realised with increasing horror. Charmed to Transfigure into different sex toys.
The blindfold, the rope, the whip…
The Room of Requirement had taken the shape of a sex dungeon.
"Got something, have you, Granger?"
Hermione gave a start and dropped the dildo. It hit the floor and Transfigured into a set of anal beads.
She whipped around to find Malfoy leaning against the bedpost, a smirk on his face.
"I don't – I didn't – I have no idea how I got here!" Hermione spluttered desperately.
"Through the door, I presume," Draco drawled sarcastically.
"Well, yes," Hermione said, quickly regaining her bossy know-it-all air, "but what I mean is, I don't know why the Room of Requirement decided to take the form of this – this place."
"'This place'?" Draco echoed amusedly. "Haven't you ever been here before?"
"No, I most certainly have not!" she snapped. "And what a room like this is even doing in a school is beyond me. I've half a mind to report this to McGonagall."
Draco snorted. "Merlin, Granger, haven't you ever wondered where Hogwarts students bring each other when they fancy a shag? After all, it's not like you can go to the girls' dormitories; the steps leading up to them turn into a stone slide if a boy walks up them. Believe me, I've tried."
She stared at him, speechless.
"Really, Granger, I thought you would've read about this place," he went on. "The Room of Requirement is known as the Come and Go Room for a reason."
Granger was beginning to look deeply uncomfortable. Draco's smirk grew wider. It would be fun to make her squirm, he decided.
"First you say you want to go out with me – now you bring me to this place. Are you sure you aren't trying to tell me something, Granger?"
"No," Hermione protested hastily, "I am most certainly not trying to tell you anything, Malfoy! I simply asked the Room of Requirement to provide me with somewhere to meet you tonight. I – I suppose the Room knew I wanted to meet a boy here after hours and assumed the worst."
"'Assumed the worst'?" Draco repeated. "That's not very kind of you, now, is it, Granger? I assure you that there is nothing remotely lacking about my skills in bed. At least the girls I've shagged thus far seem to think so."
Draco went over to the wall where the numerous sex props were displayed. He ran his fingers gently over the handle of the whip. They weren't much to his taste, truthfully. If he was going to pin a girl down and hurt her a little, he reasoned, he'd rather do it with his bare hands instead of being so weak he had to rely on tools. Hermione hovered beside him, looked positively affronted. A red flush had crept up her neck, though whether from anger or embarrassment, Draco was not sure.
He decided to crank it up a notch.
"Tell me, Granger," he began casually. "Would you say you're more of a dominant, or a submissive?"
Hermione's flush seemed to have made its way to her cheeks.
"I – I hardly think that is any of your business, Malfoy!" she sputtered angrily.
He gave a look of mock-surprise. "Are you a virgin, Granger? Merlin's beard, that's tragic. I mean, I know you said you haven't been here before, but I thought you would've at least got some action when you went to Weaselbee's for Christmas. Why else would you be so intent on coming up with a plan to enact revenge on him? After all, everyone knows girls turn into raging harpies once you pump them and dump them."
Hermione looked just about ready to explode. Malfoy resisted the urge to laugh aloud. Merlin, she was such a prude. It made her astonishingly easy to wind up.
"Relax, Granger," he went on "It doesn't matter if you are. Even ugly little swots like you usually pop their cherry at some point."
Draco didn't really think Hermione was ugly, if he was being completely honest with himself. Well, she was a little plain, perhaps. But she was still pretty in a plain sort of way – like a daisy, or something. If she wasn't such an insufferable cow he certainly wouldn't turn down the opportunity to be in this room with her. He'd only said it to make her angry. It entertained him.
But instead of looking angry, Hermione's expression changed and when she looked at him, she looked kind of… sad. The fire died from her eyes, and her shoulders sagged slightly. There was only the low, ambient light from the fire in the room, but Draco could have sworn he saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
To Draco's surprise, it didn't make him feel good. It was one thing to wind her up a little, but he hadn't expected her to get genuinely sad. He wondered if he'd said something to hit a nerve.
Then he realised that he was actually empathising with the Mudblood. Why do you care about Granger's feelings? he told himself stubbornly. Still, he didn't want to piss Granger off so much that she ended up walking out on the plan, he reasoned. If she did, Malfoy would be back to square one. It was in his interests to keep her sweet.
"I haven't got all night, Granger," he said smoothly, changing the subject. "Let's get down to business."
Hermione's eyes widened. Then clarity lit her eyes. "Oh, you mean the plan…"
What else would I mean, you self-righteous dingbat? Malfoy thought irritably, though he resisted the urge to say it aloud. Keep her sweet, or you'll be stuck with ugly Bulstrode babies. Keep her sweet, or you'll be stuck with ugly Bulstrode babies…
Hermione rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out a ridiculously long roll of parchment.
"Now, I've thought of some ways we can naturally begin our sham relationship. There are some problems with some of the methods, but I've listed potential solutions, which I am happy to run by you shortly. I've also drafted a timeline of what the relationship should look like and when we can expect results. By October, we should be beginning to arouse suspicion of a potential romance between us. By Christmas, we should be in the early stages of dating. By February…"
Blah, blah, blah. Draco wasn't listening. He was thinking about the conversation he'd just had with Granger.
Was she a virgin? She certainly seemed to be. She was the biggest goody two-shoes in Hogwarts; Draco couldn't imagine her doing anything as naughty and dirty as sex. Maybe that's why the Weasel had lost interest in her; she was frigid, and Lavender Brown was not. That said, it was always the quiet ones you had to watch out for. She seemed like a swot but maybe she was secretly a raging, sex-crazy shagging machine.
He couldn't help but wonder what she'd be like in bed. Merlin, knowing her she probably had a book on the process which she followed to a T. He could just imagine it. Right, we've spent sixty seconds in missionary, so now we need to shift to the cowgirl position. For maximum pleasure, you should stimulate my clitoris simultaneously. No, no, the rulebook specifically says to pump at least ten times before orgasming, not five!
What did she look like under those clothes, he wondered? Her robes hid most of her figure at school, and then she always dressed so practically on weekends, jumpers and jeans and the like, that it was hard to tell. His gaze fell to her breasts, which were moving gently underneath her jumper as she fiddled with the parchment.
Unexpectedly, Draco felt a rush of blood shoot to his groin. It was just so mysterious, the way her jumper clung gently, teasingly, to her figure. Pansy usually wore short, pleated skirts and sexy knee-high socks around him, and that was obviously hot. ButHermione's plain woollen jumper made Draco want to know what was underneath, to know more, in a way that Pansy's fashion didn't because he could pretty much see it all anyway. He felt the urge to peel her jumper off, like peeling the leaves off a rose petal.
He pretended to go and warm himself by the fire, standing with his back to her, to hide his rapidly stiffening cock.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Granger," Draco said impatiently. "I'll let you work out the finer details. What's next?"
There was a pause, as if she was contemplating whether to hex him or not. "As you wish," she finally said through gritted teeth. "Next, I thought we should lay down some rules."
"Rules, is it, Granger? You didn't seem so concerned about rules when you decided to meet me after hours in a sex dungeon."
"Breaking rules is sometimes necessary," Hermione said in a self-righteous tone. "No injustice was ever fought without doing so."
Merlin, he remembered why he hated Gryffindors so much. Not only did they break rules, but they actually tried to convince themselves that they were paragons of virtue for doing so. At least Slytherins were upfront about being up to no good.
"Right," Draco drawled. "What rules did you want to set, then?"
Hermione raised her head. "Firstly," she said, "you have to be nice to me. If we're going to convince people that we're actually in a relationship, we have to be able to spend time together without you hurling Muggle-born slurs at me every other second."
"That's a tall order, Granger," he drawled sarcastically.
"And that's not all." She was putting on a brave face, but Draco thought he detected her voice wavering. "It's not just me you have to be nice to, Draco. You have to be nice to my friends, too. Harry, and Neville, and – yes, even Ron."
"Potter?" Draco spat. "How do you expect me to be nice to him? He's got a face you just want to punch."
"And," she continued, "you have to try and be a nice person in general. That means no more pushing around first years. I refuse to associate with a bully."
Draco gritted his teeth. She wasn't just laying down a few basic rules. She was asking him to have a whole bloody personality transplant. Still, he thought, running a hand through his hair, as infuriating as these rules would be to follow, being married to Pansy Parkinson for the rest of his life would be worse. He would just have to suck it up. It would be worth it to avoid an eternity of domestic hell.
"Fine," he spat. "Anything else, Granger?"
"Yes," she said, "actually."
There was a pause. Draco turned to see that she was looking incredibly embarrassed again.
"Obviously we will be in a relationship," she said awkwardly, "and there may be certain – certain expectations that come along with that. But I don't want any… funny business. Is that clear, Malfoy?"
So she was saying that she didn't want a sexual relationship to be part of their little ruse.
Malfoy thought about her breasts jiggling deliciously underneath her jumper.
"No fear, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "I couldn't think of anything worse than touching your revolting Mudblood carcass."
In truth, it was all he could think about. Taking Hermione on the bed. Taking Hermione up against the wall. Taking Hermione with her bent over the desk.
"Good," Hermione said, visibly relaxing. "Well, that's all I wanted to say. Did you have any rules you wanted to enforce?"
Draco tried to expunge the images of him railing Hermione from his mind so he could think.
"Yes," he said at last. "You can't tell anyone that this is a ruse. If people find out that my parents want me to marry soon, I'll be up to my neck in frothing girls desperate to get their hands on the Malfoy fortune. And if my parents find out, the game is up and the whole thing will have been a waste of my time."
Hermione furrowed her brow. "How would your parents find out?"
"You would be surprised at how much your precious house elves talk," he said drily.
Now it was Hermione's turn to think. She hadn't anticipated telling many people, of course – like Malfoy, the game would be up she were found out – but she had at least planned to tell Harry. He was her best friend. Whenever she'd broken the rules before, it had always been with him. She couldn't imagine doing something as big as this without him by her side.
But the more she thought about it, the wiser it seemed to keep the plot completely between her and Malfoy. First, Harry might not exactly approve of her scheming against his other best friend, especially with Malfoy of all people. And secondly, she wasn't sure if her secret would be safe with Harry – not because she didn't trust him, but because there was a risk Harry would reveal it accidentally. He'd probably blurt it in his sleep or something, or divulge it in one of his weird visions with Voldemort.
"OK," she breathed. "Fine. Neither of us will tell anyone it's a ruse."
Draco nodded. There was no-one he wanted to tell on his side. As if he could trust idiots like Crabbe and Goyle with the information.
"There's one more thing, and then I really ought to get back to bed," Hermione said, coming to the last item on her roll of parchment. "When should we start our ruse, and how long do you want it to go on for?"
Draco thought about it. It seemed impossible to put a time limit on things in advance. The ruse could solve his problems very quickly or it might take a bit longer to iron out all the kinks.
"Until our aims are achieved," he decided.
Or until my aims are achieved, at least.
"As for when to start, I hardly have any time to waste, what with my parents pestering me for updates on my progress. Let's start tomorrow."
Hermione blinked, as if she couldn't believe it had that been easy. "Fine," she said in a tone of surprise. "We start tomorrow, then."
They left the Room of Requirement shortly after that. When Draco got back to the Slytherin boys' dormitory, he didn't go back to sleep immediately. It was now past one o'clock in the morning, but Draco's mind was racing.
Drawing the curtains around his bed closed, Draco pulled his pyjama bottoms down slightly. He gave an almost audible sigh of relief as his erection, which had been throbbing uncomfortably for the past half hour, sprang free. He closed his fist around his creamy white member and began to toss himself off.
He thought of Granger. He imagined the two of them in the Room of Requirement, but this time they weren't there to discuss plans. He lifted up her jumper to reveal a perfect pair of breasts spilling out of an innocent cotton bra. He imagined taking them in his hand, feeling them yield deliciously at his touch. He pulled down the bra so he could get at her perfect rosebud nipples; then he was taking them into his mouth, and Granger was moaning his name so sweetly…
He gave a grunt as he came, hard. He was surprised to find that he was almost breathless; that had been one of the most intense orgasms he'd had in a while. Uttering a hushed Scourgify charm to clean up the mess, Draco felt clarity returning to his mind. He didn't actually find Granger attractive or anything, he told himself. He was just a sex-mad Slytherin who had just been alone with a girl, in a room he normally associated with sex.
What was I supposed to do?