[Thanks so much for the people who reviewed my fic! Your feedback meant so much to me. =) Anyway, I know the last chapter was kinda confusing. Sorry for that. I'll try to revise it as soon as I finish my papers and my last long exam is over. I think fanfic writers who are a lot better than I am have already played this storyline to death, so please please please bear with me. Oh and this chapter is finally in Draco's POV! I have to admit I had a harder time writing this. I find Hermione's POV is so much easier to do since I can totally relate with the "attraction with the bad boy" thing. Oh well, I'm ranting. Enjoy! ^_^]

Burn

Chapter 2: Flammable

/ / indicate Draco's thoughts.

Draco always did have a passion for necks.

He was in his own room, since being Slytherin prefect had its privileges. As soon as he arrived at Hogwarts, he had plunked down on his bed and did nothing but think. The look on his face as he was deep in contemplation was that of contentment. And he did feel like he was on cloud nine. He was still a little aroused, but then he would never admit that. For he was thinking of something he always deemed despicable.

He was thinking about Hermione Granger.

And her goddamn neck.

There was something very erotic about that part of a woman's body. He hated necklaces for the very reason that they blocked his view of slender necks with soft, smooth skin. He preferred his women's necks unadorned, free for him to slide his tongue along, without any slivers of metal obstructing his path. Pansy Parkinson, the ever-so-eager Slytherin slut had countless necklaces, chokers, bands and what-have-yous. He hated them. Not that he ever really liked Pansy much. She was too prissy, her voice too shrill. She just provided a good fuck once in a while. For him and everyone else who had a pair of legs. He cringed at the thought and tried to revert his mind back to the throats he had come to love.

When he laid eyes on that exact part of Hermione Granger's body, he nearly groaned out loud in arousal. The skin on her throat was silky-smooth and rosy, and he wondered at the back of his mind if every inch of her skin was that beautiful. He pictured himself kissing the petal-soft depression between her collarbones and nipping her skin lightly, and he pictured himself doing a lot more to her than a little biting here and there.

But of course, he had a reputation, as Draco Malfoy, to keep. Hanky-panky with the virginal mudblood wouldn't do him good.

/People are going to think I've gone soft, and Father would disown me. Or if worse comes to worst, Father would murder me./

Draco frowned. He knew what Lucius Malfoy was capable of. He definitely could kill his own son, if given the right reasons.

/And sleeping with a filthy Mudblood is definitely a reason./

He mentally chastised himself for having such thoughts. He would never sleep with a Mudblood. Not just because of his father, but because he hated Mudbloods altogether. And Hermione wasn't just a mere Mudblood. She was Potty's Mudblood best friend, aside from that redheaded Weasel. 

That knowledge should have turned him off.

It didn't.

Draco growled. He never found women beautiful. Sexy, yes. Fuckable, most definitely. But earlier that day he saw Hermione Granger for the millionth time in his life, and yet it was almost like laying eyes on her for the first time.

He growled again.

/How in the hell did that disgusting, ugly Mudblood turn into an oh-so-fuckable goddess?/

Sexual tension, he could understand. But this, no way.

The thing was, he didn't just want to lay her down and ravish her. He didn't just want to do her over, under and sideways. He didn't just want to make her writhe underneath him in pleasure and make her scream. He didn't even just want to hear her call out his name as he was doing Lord-knows-what to her, although that idea was perfectly appealing.

He wanted to worship her.

/Oh but, God. She was beautiful./

Of course she had been locked in an embrace with Potty when he was able to catch a glimpse of her. He didn't mind really, for he was too busy noticing her luscious legs and full hips to actually look at that fool. She must have felt him looking because she pulled away from the Idiot Who Lived suddenly and turned around.

He had licked his lips when he saw her staring. He had sent all sorts of suggestive innuendoes, because he didn't want her to know.

It was insane. Unacceptable. Inexcusable. Pathetic for a man of his stature. A Malfoy, the best of the best, and a Mudblood.

/Get a grip, Malfoy./

He wanted to scream. He was torn between his reputation, and the pleasure he knew he would get from Granger.

/What's it gonna be? Your ass or her ass?/

Draco smirked at the thought. Little Mudblood had a fine ass.

/Well?/

/It's physical attraction, you dumb oaf. You'll get over it./

Somehow the thought didn't help at all.

He growled for the nth time. He would never admit it to anyone. He couldn't even admit it to himself. For the worst thing that could possibly happen had happened to him that day.

He fell in love. And not just with anybody. He fell in love with the worst person he could probably pick.

/Oh Merlin, why couldn't it have been Pansy? Wait, scratch that. But why, of all people, her?/

He fell in love with Hermione Granger.

/Shit./

[Weird, huh?]