The Rape of the Lock
Chapter four: An Ear Thing
Reminder: Story rated 'R'. Feet on ground, head in air.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Draco calmly went down the stairs and strided through the Gryffindor common room as if he belonged there. He felt on top of the world.
"Malfoy," Potter addressed him curtly. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, Potter, I was leaving, but if you'd like me to stay . . ."
Then Weasley joined in. "Oh, you'll leave. After you tell us how you got in and what you were doing here."
"Granger helped me in." Draco surprised himself. That was actually the truth. "We needed to have a little talk. We're in Potions together, you know." Potter and Weasley still blocked his way, glaring at him. "May I go?" He raised an eyebrow at the two as he passed.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Harry couldn't see any reason to make him stay. He stood aside, and motioned for Ron to do the same. They watched Malfoy leave through the portrait hole.
"Hermione really has gone mad," Ron lamented.
"What would she talk to Malfoy about?"
Ron sat back down on the couch heavily. "You're assuming he told us the truth."
"You're right," Harry admitted. "But you do believe she let him in."
"Yeah. I mean, why else would he say that? He hates her almost more than us."
Harry stood up. "Well, I guess we'll just have to ask Hermione, then."
Ron gave him a look to imply, 'We've been over this. Hermione's bug-shagging crazy.'
"We've no other choice, Ron."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione took her time on the top of the tower. She didn't know where to begin to pick herself up after whatever had happened. She could have killed herself, but she didn't. Malfoy could have killed her, but he didn't. Stupid good-for-nothing knife.
She started. The knife! Where had she Accio'ed that knife from? Hermione tried to think of where she had seen it last. The spell didn't make things appear out of thin air, they had to be real objects that were somewhere else, then they were magically attracted to the incatator of the spell. She frowned when she saw the right memory. Hagrid's cabin. The knife was Hagrid's.
With a sigh and a hope that Hagrid was out of the cabin or too drunk to believe his eyes when the knife had gone flying out the window, Hermione used the trap door that Malfoy had gone down a minute-- no, an hour-- no, a day before? The sun was down. She suspected she might have fallen asleep after her cry.
Back in her room, she brightened at the sight of a note from Ron and Harry under the door. She had had one of these every time she skipped a meal in the last week, since Harry had come and spoken to her. However, all the others rested as ashes in the trash can-- she could read in them, as surely as the black and white writing, the way the boys were walking on eggshells, were patronizing her in her distress. This one, she opened and read.
Hermione--
You weren't at supper tonight again. This thing you're doing is really starting to annoy us. [at this point, Ron must have stolen the quill from Harry, because the letter continued in his sloppier hand] We understand you're upset, but both of us wish you would talk to us and stop freezing us out. And what was the deal with Malfoy in our tower?
Talk to you later (hopefully),
Ron & Harry
Hermione shocked herself and grinned. They were finally getting worried enough to tell her the truth, although Ron was being a little more tactful than Harry.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Draco had eaten dinner with the sweet taste of an enemy's blood on his lips. He didn't fully understand why he had bitten her. It had been an impulse, and he despised impulses. Malfoys had a plan, especially in dealing with matters of this nature. But, in retrospect, he prided himself at the action; a bit of playfulness made an overt act of violence that much more scary to the victim.
Oh, he had longed to kill her, to watch her turn pale and cold and stiffen with Death's tight embrace. But Draco had style, a finesse and grace in these situations that would allow him to mentally torture unstable Granger as long as he enjoyed it before he finally laid down a lion from the pride.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione took a long shower to wash the blood from her arms and Malfoy's breath from her neck. It gave her time to think about the past week or so, and she didn't like what she was thinking about. She had completed her class assignments perfunctorily, but hadn't done any extra studying for the Cogito. The pink water at her feet made her sad and sick and sorry for herself. With a sigh she shut off the water, then performed a quick bandaging spell on her arms.
She was almost disappointed in herself, because when it really came down to it, at the moment when she really thought Malfoy would slice her neck, something had risen within her. She hadn't wanted to die. The feeling of a desperate struggle to stay alive was still in her, clearing her head for the moment. In contrast to the past few days, she felt everything acutely: the pain she must have caused Harry and Ron, the shock at herself for her behavior, the thoughts racing through her head about Malfoy, and looming above it all like an inevitable thunderstorm, the void waiting for her whole universe after graduation.
Dressed in long sleeves and a sweater, Hermione bounded downstairs, suddenly desperate to make human contact, and almost bowled over Ron and Harry at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hermione?" Ron took a step forward.
"Yes? Who else would I be?"
Ron suddenly threw his arms around her. "I thought you were going to . . ."
She pulled out of the hug, holding Ron at arm's length. "Going to what?"
"Starve to death?" Harry suggested nervously.
Hermione looked bemused. "That's . . . kind of you."
"Sorry." Ron looked away.
Harry looked closely at what appeared to be the side of Hermione's head.
"Yes, Harry? I think I might go back up there if everyone's just going to look at me funny."
"Is your ear bleeding?"
Hermione put a finger to her ear. "Oh, that. A, a-- slight earring mishap."
Harry nodded. "Ah," he said sagely, still not sure what to say to her.
"Now, if you two don't mind, I've got a load of studying to catch up on. I'll be in the library if you need me."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Ron was slowly turning red. As soon as Hermione went out the portrait hole, Ron started towards it, with Harry at his heels. Ron, who had longer legs, was striding so fast Harry was jogging to keep up with him.
"Ron, where are we going?" Harry inquired as they entered the hall.
Ron kept going along the corridor. "To kill Malfoy."
"Um, not that I don't agree with that general premise, but is there any particular reason?"
"Hermione doesn't wear earrings." He snorted in anger.
Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder and spun him around. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Malfoy was in our tower, Harry. Upstairs. In Hermione's room. And she doesn't wear earrings."
Harry shook his head. "You're going to have to give me more details. You think Malfoy hurt her?"
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, if he was trying to hurt her, why would he go for her earlobes?" Ron almost smiled, then remembered himself and turned it into a scowl.
"Yeah, that was pretty much my point." Harry shook his head, trying to put together the fragments Ron was giving him.
"Harry, no offense, but you're being a little dense."
"Oh, I'm sorry if I don't understand why you want to kill someone because he didn't hurt your ex-girlfriend."
If it was possible, Ron got even redder. "Hermione has an ear . . . thing."
"Have you gone insane? What's an ear thing?"
"Egads, Harry, do I have to spell it out for you?"
"Apparently."
"Hermione likes it when a guy, like, when you're snogging, when you, um . . ." Ron looked like he was trying to sink into the floor.
Harry's mouth dropped open. "Stop! Ron, please stop."
Ron sighed heavily. "Glad to."
"So you think that Hermione and Malfoy were . . .?" Harry was trying desperately not to laugh.
Ron looked indignant. "Well, yeah. You have a better explanation?"
"But that can't be it, Ron. I don't know why she lied to us about her ear, but Malfoy hates her. And she hates him."
"So her ear just got all upset at itself and sprang a bleeder?"
"Yes, I mean, no, of course not. Maybe she did something clumsy and is embarrassed by it."
"Maybe. But your theory doesn't explain Hermione's weird moods or her letting Malfoy into our tower. Mine does. Plus, it gives me a really good excuse to kill him."
"That's true." Harry took hold of Ron's arm and began to lead him back to the tower. "But let's hold off on killing Malfoy until we have a teensy bit more proof."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione pinched the cut on her ear and shuddered. Why had she lied to Ron and Harry? To protect herself? Three would be much better protection than one. But she knew the truth. It was because she knew, that on some fundamental level, in telling them about Draco she would have to tell them her other secrets, too. She didn't want their pity, and she didn't want to have to be ashamed. More ashamed than she already was.
She shook her head. The Cogito would begin on Monday, which meant she only had this weekend to study! Hermione quickened her pace towards the library, mentally making lists of books to read.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Draco lay in bed that night, going over the next step in his plan. He had to keep Granger scared enough to comply, but not scared enough to tell Potter and Weasley. He had to keep her feeling small about her little secret, so that she wouldn't suddenly get all empowered or whatever the girls were babbling about these days. Most importantly, he had to make her trust him, to fit into his plan. He pushed Mindy off him and turned over. If Granger was as smart as she let on, that was going to be a problem. Mindy scrambled for her clothes and snuck out the door. Draco rolled his eyes.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Ron shook his head as he sat down to dinner on Saturday evening. "She won't come to supper."
Harry looked up from his plate. "She hasn't locked herself in her room again, has she?"
"No, but she has built a little fort with books in the library." He took a sip of his juice. "It's pretty cool, actually. She said we could play in it la--"
Harry interrupted, "Don't you think she's beating her brain a little hard for this thing?"
"Nah. She's just back to normal old Hermione, if-it-isn't-in-a-book-I'm-not-interested."
Harry furrowed his brow. "She has to eat something."
"She's seventeen. Her I.Q. is like four hundred. I'm sure she's got that figured out, Harry."
"Something just doesn't feel right . . . I'm worried about her."
"Worried about who?" Ginny plonked down beside Ron, who rolled his eyes in apology to Harry.
"Hermione," Harry sighed. "She's studying awfully hard for the Cogito."
Ginny nodded. "Almost as hard as Malfoy. He's been in the library all week."
Both Ron and Harry instinctively looked at the Slytherin table. No Malfoy. Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry behind Ginny's back.
Harry nodded at Ron. "Let's take her some food then, when we finish."
Ginny looked at Harry, then Ron. "One day you guys are going to have to let me in on things."
"And that's the day you get sent back to Mum in a box. It's dangerous, Ginny."
"I'm only a year younger than you! You and Harry were messing about with You-Know-Who when you were eleven."
"And so," Harry said in a low voice, "were you. You don't want to go back there again."
Ginny raised her chin. "I don't see why you do either, then."
"S'not You-Know-Who, anyway, it's just Malfoy," Ron said, then quickly shut up at the look Harry gave him.
Ginny's interest was piqued. "Just Malfoy?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Nice one, Ron."
Ginny grinned her victory and giggled into her potatoes. Ron resisted the urge to smack the back of her head.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione bit her bottom lip, giving her quill a rest from her teeth, and shut the book. As she looked up from the books and was facing . . . more books. She had indeed built herself a sort-of fort of cast-off books. There was someone a few tables over studying in a similar structure, but that one looked a little less haphazard. A little more like they were trying to hide something. She started towards the other pile of books, but was stopped by a younger girl in her path.
"Oh, hello Francine."
Francine sniffed. "H'lo, Hermione."
"Are you all right?"
"Not so much." Francine sniffed again.
Hermione sat down with her in the fort and began to stroke the girl's hair. "How's your mum?"
"Sick. Everyone's home with her except for me."
"Oh, that must be horrible for you."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Draco sat in his nearby book-walled hideout and spied on the girls. He actually had been studying for the past week, which he despised. But he got off on the sight of Granger wishing to melt into the floor when he knew the answer and she didn't. After all, knowledge is power, and he'd take all the power he could get.
He went back to his books, poring over a particularly difficult history passage. When he next looked up, the two Gryffindor girls were emerging from Hermione's stack. Draco wanted to vomit. They had braided each other's hair.
Granger was heading past his stack, no doubt to get more books from the shelves. He reached out a hand as she passed and grabbed a pigtail, dragging her into his lair. He smirked. She knew better than to scream, almost like she had been expecting this all along.
"I like these," he said, tugging a little on her braid. "Convenient."
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Now, now, Miss. Let's not get too cocky."
"You're hurting me."
"My mistake. I thought you enjoyed . . . Pain." He punctuated his words by sharply pulling her hair.
Her face was flushed. She was holding back her reactions. Draco narrowed his eyes. "While I enjoy these encounters from the pure pleasure of your company, there is a little business we need to attend to."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione couldn't help but tremble as she stood there waiting. She could feel him pressed against her, front to front. His steely gray eyes locked with hers. Malfoy put his hand in his pant pocket, and he was standing so close to her that she could feel his hand rooting in it. She wanted to scream and cry and break down, but something within her, thin as tissue, but still there, was keeping her from faltering.
Malfoy thrust his hand down the front of her skirt, and she involuntarily gave a sharp gasp. The tissue paper was broken. Her mouth stayed open. His eyes never left hers, though he began to smile. When he opened his mouth to speak, it broke the spell, and she automatically pushed him away as hard as she could. He didn't fall, but he stepped back and let go of her hair.
"You did all this for sex? For goodness sake, Malfoy, you're that desperate?"
Malfoy looked genuinely disgusted. "Sex? That's what first years are for."
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "You really are evil."
He smiled. "Now you're getting it."
Hermione shook her head. "May I go?"
"Of course. Wouldn't dream of being . . . less than a gentleman." He stepped aside to let her pass.
She was almost gone when he again grabbed her hair. Hermione looked back with a scowl.
"Good luck in the contest, Granger."
"Bite me, Malfoy." She cringed at the unintentional double entendre. Malfoy grinned and let her go.
____________________________
Author's Note: Da da da da dum, dedede DUM! DUM DUM! DAAAA! --- Cheap soundtrack.
Chapter four: An Ear Thing
Reminder: Story rated 'R'. Feet on ground, head in air.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Draco calmly went down the stairs and strided through the Gryffindor common room as if he belonged there. He felt on top of the world.
"Malfoy," Potter addressed him curtly. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, Potter, I was leaving, but if you'd like me to stay . . ."
Then Weasley joined in. "Oh, you'll leave. After you tell us how you got in and what you were doing here."
"Granger helped me in." Draco surprised himself. That was actually the truth. "We needed to have a little talk. We're in Potions together, you know." Potter and Weasley still blocked his way, glaring at him. "May I go?" He raised an eyebrow at the two as he passed.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Harry couldn't see any reason to make him stay. He stood aside, and motioned for Ron to do the same. They watched Malfoy leave through the portrait hole.
"Hermione really has gone mad," Ron lamented.
"What would she talk to Malfoy about?"
Ron sat back down on the couch heavily. "You're assuming he told us the truth."
"You're right," Harry admitted. "But you do believe she let him in."
"Yeah. I mean, why else would he say that? He hates her almost more than us."
Harry stood up. "Well, I guess we'll just have to ask Hermione, then."
Ron gave him a look to imply, 'We've been over this. Hermione's bug-shagging crazy.'
"We've no other choice, Ron."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione took her time on the top of the tower. She didn't know where to begin to pick herself up after whatever had happened. She could have killed herself, but she didn't. Malfoy could have killed her, but he didn't. Stupid good-for-nothing knife.
She started. The knife! Where had she Accio'ed that knife from? Hermione tried to think of where she had seen it last. The spell didn't make things appear out of thin air, they had to be real objects that were somewhere else, then they were magically attracted to the incatator of the spell. She frowned when she saw the right memory. Hagrid's cabin. The knife was Hagrid's.
With a sigh and a hope that Hagrid was out of the cabin or too drunk to believe his eyes when the knife had gone flying out the window, Hermione used the trap door that Malfoy had gone down a minute-- no, an hour-- no, a day before? The sun was down. She suspected she might have fallen asleep after her cry.
Back in her room, she brightened at the sight of a note from Ron and Harry under the door. She had had one of these every time she skipped a meal in the last week, since Harry had come and spoken to her. However, all the others rested as ashes in the trash can-- she could read in them, as surely as the black and white writing, the way the boys were walking on eggshells, were patronizing her in her distress. This one, she opened and read.
Hermione--
You weren't at supper tonight again. This thing you're doing is really starting to annoy us. [at this point, Ron must have stolen the quill from Harry, because the letter continued in his sloppier hand] We understand you're upset, but both of us wish you would talk to us and stop freezing us out. And what was the deal with Malfoy in our tower?
Talk to you later (hopefully),
Ron & Harry
Hermione shocked herself and grinned. They were finally getting worried enough to tell her the truth, although Ron was being a little more tactful than Harry.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Draco had eaten dinner with the sweet taste of an enemy's blood on his lips. He didn't fully understand why he had bitten her. It had been an impulse, and he despised impulses. Malfoys had a plan, especially in dealing with matters of this nature. But, in retrospect, he prided himself at the action; a bit of playfulness made an overt act of violence that much more scary to the victim.
Oh, he had longed to kill her, to watch her turn pale and cold and stiffen with Death's tight embrace. But Draco had style, a finesse and grace in these situations that would allow him to mentally torture unstable Granger as long as he enjoyed it before he finally laid down a lion from the pride.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione took a long shower to wash the blood from her arms and Malfoy's breath from her neck. It gave her time to think about the past week or so, and she didn't like what she was thinking about. She had completed her class assignments perfunctorily, but hadn't done any extra studying for the Cogito. The pink water at her feet made her sad and sick and sorry for herself. With a sigh she shut off the water, then performed a quick bandaging spell on her arms.
She was almost disappointed in herself, because when it really came down to it, at the moment when she really thought Malfoy would slice her neck, something had risen within her. She hadn't wanted to die. The feeling of a desperate struggle to stay alive was still in her, clearing her head for the moment. In contrast to the past few days, she felt everything acutely: the pain she must have caused Harry and Ron, the shock at herself for her behavior, the thoughts racing through her head about Malfoy, and looming above it all like an inevitable thunderstorm, the void waiting for her whole universe after graduation.
Dressed in long sleeves and a sweater, Hermione bounded downstairs, suddenly desperate to make human contact, and almost bowled over Ron and Harry at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hermione?" Ron took a step forward.
"Yes? Who else would I be?"
Ron suddenly threw his arms around her. "I thought you were going to . . ."
She pulled out of the hug, holding Ron at arm's length. "Going to what?"
"Starve to death?" Harry suggested nervously.
Hermione looked bemused. "That's . . . kind of you."
"Sorry." Ron looked away.
Harry looked closely at what appeared to be the side of Hermione's head.
"Yes, Harry? I think I might go back up there if everyone's just going to look at me funny."
"Is your ear bleeding?"
Hermione put a finger to her ear. "Oh, that. A, a-- slight earring mishap."
Harry nodded. "Ah," he said sagely, still not sure what to say to her.
"Now, if you two don't mind, I've got a load of studying to catch up on. I'll be in the library if you need me."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Ron was slowly turning red. As soon as Hermione went out the portrait hole, Ron started towards it, with Harry at his heels. Ron, who had longer legs, was striding so fast Harry was jogging to keep up with him.
"Ron, where are we going?" Harry inquired as they entered the hall.
Ron kept going along the corridor. "To kill Malfoy."
"Um, not that I don't agree with that general premise, but is there any particular reason?"
"Hermione doesn't wear earrings." He snorted in anger.
Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder and spun him around. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Malfoy was in our tower, Harry. Upstairs. In Hermione's room. And she doesn't wear earrings."
Harry shook his head. "You're going to have to give me more details. You think Malfoy hurt her?"
"Yeah. Well, no. I mean, if he was trying to hurt her, why would he go for her earlobes?" Ron almost smiled, then remembered himself and turned it into a scowl.
"Yeah, that was pretty much my point." Harry shook his head, trying to put together the fragments Ron was giving him.
"Harry, no offense, but you're being a little dense."
"Oh, I'm sorry if I don't understand why you want to kill someone because he didn't hurt your ex-girlfriend."
If it was possible, Ron got even redder. "Hermione has an ear . . . thing."
"Have you gone insane? What's an ear thing?"
"Egads, Harry, do I have to spell it out for you?"
"Apparently."
"Hermione likes it when a guy, like, when you're snogging, when you, um . . ." Ron looked like he was trying to sink into the floor.
Harry's mouth dropped open. "Stop! Ron, please stop."
Ron sighed heavily. "Glad to."
"So you think that Hermione and Malfoy were . . .?" Harry was trying desperately not to laugh.
Ron looked indignant. "Well, yeah. You have a better explanation?"
"But that can't be it, Ron. I don't know why she lied to us about her ear, but Malfoy hates her. And she hates him."
"So her ear just got all upset at itself and sprang a bleeder?"
"Yes, I mean, no, of course not. Maybe she did something clumsy and is embarrassed by it."
"Maybe. But your theory doesn't explain Hermione's weird moods or her letting Malfoy into our tower. Mine does. Plus, it gives me a really good excuse to kill him."
"That's true." Harry took hold of Ron's arm and began to lead him back to the tower. "But let's hold off on killing Malfoy until we have a teensy bit more proof."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione pinched the cut on her ear and shuddered. Why had she lied to Ron and Harry? To protect herself? Three would be much better protection than one. But she knew the truth. It was because she knew, that on some fundamental level, in telling them about Draco she would have to tell them her other secrets, too. She didn't want their pity, and she didn't want to have to be ashamed. More ashamed than she already was.
She shook her head. The Cogito would begin on Monday, which meant she only had this weekend to study! Hermione quickened her pace towards the library, mentally making lists of books to read.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Draco lay in bed that night, going over the next step in his plan. He had to keep Granger scared enough to comply, but not scared enough to tell Potter and Weasley. He had to keep her feeling small about her little secret, so that she wouldn't suddenly get all empowered or whatever the girls were babbling about these days. Most importantly, he had to make her trust him, to fit into his plan. He pushed Mindy off him and turned over. If Granger was as smart as she let on, that was going to be a problem. Mindy scrambled for her clothes and snuck out the door. Draco rolled his eyes.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Ron shook his head as he sat down to dinner on Saturday evening. "She won't come to supper."
Harry looked up from his plate. "She hasn't locked herself in her room again, has she?"
"No, but she has built a little fort with books in the library." He took a sip of his juice. "It's pretty cool, actually. She said we could play in it la--"
Harry interrupted, "Don't you think she's beating her brain a little hard for this thing?"
"Nah. She's just back to normal old Hermione, if-it-isn't-in-a-book-I'm-not-interested."
Harry furrowed his brow. "She has to eat something."
"She's seventeen. Her I.Q. is like four hundred. I'm sure she's got that figured out, Harry."
"Something just doesn't feel right . . . I'm worried about her."
"Worried about who?" Ginny plonked down beside Ron, who rolled his eyes in apology to Harry.
"Hermione," Harry sighed. "She's studying awfully hard for the Cogito."
Ginny nodded. "Almost as hard as Malfoy. He's been in the library all week."
Both Ron and Harry instinctively looked at the Slytherin table. No Malfoy. Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry behind Ginny's back.
Harry nodded at Ron. "Let's take her some food then, when we finish."
Ginny looked at Harry, then Ron. "One day you guys are going to have to let me in on things."
"And that's the day you get sent back to Mum in a box. It's dangerous, Ginny."
"I'm only a year younger than you! You and Harry were messing about with You-Know-Who when you were eleven."
"And so," Harry said in a low voice, "were you. You don't want to go back there again."
Ginny raised her chin. "I don't see why you do either, then."
"S'not You-Know-Who, anyway, it's just Malfoy," Ron said, then quickly shut up at the look Harry gave him.
Ginny's interest was piqued. "Just Malfoy?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Nice one, Ron."
Ginny grinned her victory and giggled into her potatoes. Ron resisted the urge to smack the back of her head.
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione bit her bottom lip, giving her quill a rest from her teeth, and shut the book. As she looked up from the books and was facing . . . more books. She had indeed built herself a sort-of fort of cast-off books. There was someone a few tables over studying in a similar structure, but that one looked a little less haphazard. A little more like they were trying to hide something. She started towards the other pile of books, but was stopped by a younger girl in her path.
"Oh, hello Francine."
Francine sniffed. "H'lo, Hermione."
"Are you all right?"
"Not so much." Francine sniffed again.
Hermione sat down with her in the fort and began to stroke the girl's hair. "How's your mum?"
"Sick. Everyone's home with her except for me."
"Oh, that must be horrible for you."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Draco sat in his nearby book-walled hideout and spied on the girls. He actually had been studying for the past week, which he despised. But he got off on the sight of Granger wishing to melt into the floor when he knew the answer and she didn't. After all, knowledge is power, and he'd take all the power he could get.
He went back to his books, poring over a particularly difficult history passage. When he next looked up, the two Gryffindor girls were emerging from Hermione's stack. Draco wanted to vomit. They had braided each other's hair.
Granger was heading past his stack, no doubt to get more books from the shelves. He reached out a hand as she passed and grabbed a pigtail, dragging her into his lair. He smirked. She knew better than to scream, almost like she had been expecting this all along.
"I like these," he said, tugging a little on her braid. "Convenient."
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Now, now, Miss. Let's not get too cocky."
"You're hurting me."
"My mistake. I thought you enjoyed . . . Pain." He punctuated his words by sharply pulling her hair.
Her face was flushed. She was holding back her reactions. Draco narrowed his eyes. "While I enjoy these encounters from the pure pleasure of your company, there is a little business we need to attend to."
THERAPEOFTHELOCK
Hermione couldn't help but tremble as she stood there waiting. She could feel him pressed against her, front to front. His steely gray eyes locked with hers. Malfoy put his hand in his pant pocket, and he was standing so close to her that she could feel his hand rooting in it. She wanted to scream and cry and break down, but something within her, thin as tissue, but still there, was keeping her from faltering.
Malfoy thrust his hand down the front of her skirt, and she involuntarily gave a sharp gasp. The tissue paper was broken. Her mouth stayed open. His eyes never left hers, though he began to smile. When he opened his mouth to speak, it broke the spell, and she automatically pushed him away as hard as she could. He didn't fall, but he stepped back and let go of her hair.
"You did all this for sex? For goodness sake, Malfoy, you're that desperate?"
Malfoy looked genuinely disgusted. "Sex? That's what first years are for."
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "You really are evil."
He smiled. "Now you're getting it."
Hermione shook her head. "May I go?"
"Of course. Wouldn't dream of being . . . less than a gentleman." He stepped aside to let her pass.
She was almost gone when he again grabbed her hair. Hermione looked back with a scowl.
"Good luck in the contest, Granger."
"Bite me, Malfoy." She cringed at the unintentional double entendre. Malfoy grinned and let her go.
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Author's Note: Da da da da dum, dedede DUM! DUM DUM! DAAAA! --- Cheap soundtrack.
