"-and then you just squeeze the trigger." Hermione concluded, her eyes sweeping him in appraisal. It seemed to Draco that she had never appeared more cold or more calculated. He felt his cock stiffen and, in dull alarm, concentrated on the grey London skyscape behind her.
"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Draco asked. He still couldn't look at her. The problem wasn't going away - thank God for his heavy jacket.
"Of course I do" she snapped. "There's no alternative. You can't do a prior incantatum on a gun."
"That's not what I meant" Draco said, but the breeze bit away his words and she had turned to look at the streets far below, the slate rooftops, the blinking windowed eyes of rain-coloured office blocks.
"They won't see you" she observed. "They won't be looking. And we're too high up. It will take them a couple of hours to even realise it was a bullet, not a spell that hit him." She laughed hollowly. The wind lifted chunks of her dark hair, exposing a pallid blue neck. Draco was in trouble. He was fully erect now and could feel the tension begin to mount. Desperate, unable to concentrate, unable to stop imagining sliding a hand over that frozen skin, he looked down at the gun in his hand and thought about who he was going to kill with it.
"He's coming" Hermione muttered. "Walking down the street with your mother. Now's the time, Draco."
Hesitant now (partly because he wasn't sure if the thick jacket was enough to hide his cock) Draco walked to the edge and peered over the low barrier down down down into the street below. His father's blonde head was easy to identify, far away as it was. Think of the beatings. Think of how you were always a disappointment. Think of that broken tooth.
Flexing his fingers, taking aim, Draco had to ask. "What's in this for you, Hermione?"
A stiff smile from her. "He paid for my abortion."
Bang. Bang. Bang.