Chapter 2 – Boy, this is going better than I thought it would. Of course, I might have just given up if it hadn¡¯t been for all my reviewers *thank u – blows kisses* I hope that this chapter is as satisfying as the first¡¦I would really be crushed if it isn¡¯t. Note: Some serious sex in here, so if you have a problem with this, you probably shouldn¡¯t read this¡¦not saying most people have a problem with reading it¡¦ Anyways, since I know that your all here for the story and not to hear me blab, you¡¯ll have your wish¡¦on with the story.

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Drowning Hearts, Flooding Tears

Chapter 2:

The echoes of a glass bottle breaking filled the dank, dark corridors. A whisper, uttering a curse. He bent to pick up the broken pieces of glass, intricately designed in scarlet blossoms and emerald leaves. The ruby liquid that was contained in the bottle stained the plush carpet, but he didn¡¯t care – the house elves will take care of it – it wasn¡¯t something he had to worry about.

He whispered a spell and with a wave of his wand the broken pieces disappeared in a silver column of dust. That done he continued down the hall, making his way to the library. Really, he was annoyed at the fact that Professor Snape would make him do something like this. It made him feel lowly – this was a job for other people, servants, not him. But, because it was Professor Snape who asked, he didn¡¯t protest and agreed to take the boxes of potions to the library.

On the way, his thoughts strayed. It had been that way for a while – whenever he had the time, he would find himself involuntarily thinking about her. He remembered the first time he had thought of her that way. When he had first realized it, he had been completely terrified. He still was. It was about a year ago from now, in fifth year, when students were just returning from summer vacation. The sight of her had completely blown him away. Literally. Even now it gave him the shivers.

He had arrived in the carriages before theirs had. Just out of long habit, he prepared himself with a good combat remark and turned around to face the trio. He caught sight of her just as she climbed out of the carriage. His life-long rival was helping her out of the carriage. The first thing he noticed about her was the pale, creamy sight of her long legs. It seemed she had grown quite a bit over the summer.

He remembered how his eyes had trailed upwards, and how his face had broken into a shadow of a grin, for what he saw pleased him. Her robe was left open, letting him see her Hogwarts uniform underneath. And something that had definitely grown underneath even that. His eyes had lingered there for a moment longer than he had intended, then finally, his silver eyes flickered up to her face. He distinctly remembered how he had blushed, even if it was slight.

Her cream-like face was like sculptured marble - smooth, with tendrils of dark, golden-brown hair flowing around it, gently caressing it. Large brown eyes, flecked with gold, with dark lashes that fluttered as the drizzling rain fell on them. A small, delicately made nose. Beneath, was a small, but full, rosy lips - whispering fairy tales to all those around her.

That day he had decided not to bother with them, for his own sake. He had not expected her to be¡¦so¡¦changed. Crabe and Goyle hadn¡¯t noticed anything wrong with him that day, he hadn¡¯t expected them to. In truth, he was grateful that they didn¡¯t notice, otherwise, it would have caused a problem. He had definitely been distracted that day, trying to get glimpses of her at dinner, when they were to make their own separate ways to their dorms, during classes next day, and every other day after that. Even now, almost a year later, the fact that he was secretly drawn to her hadn¡¯t changed.

He sighed, something that had become a habit for him also. But he only did this when he was alone, for reasons most obvious. He turned a corner, made his way down the cobble steps, taking care to hold the box of potions steady. Then, to his utter surprise and shock, he stepped on a wet spot and began tumbling down the steps – the sound of breaking bottles accompanying him.

Then, a terrified scream.

~ ¡Ä ~ ¡Ä ~ ¡Ä ~ ¡Ä ~

Hermione had changed her mind about going to her dorm when she entered the Great Hall. Instead, she chose to make her way to the school library, to perhaps see if she could find something that might help her with her Potions assignment. She still couldn¡¯t believe that she was having trouble with it. While walking down the numerous corridors, she thought about him, again. She couldn¡¯t help it – that day was still haunting her. The memory of it was too bitter and embarrassing to keep secret. But she had to¡¦for her own sake¡¦

She shook her head, making her golden-brown hair toss and swirl in a dark fluster, thick and silken. Noticing how her hair kept getting in her way, she reached into the pocket of her robes and got out a sting of emerald green ribbon – a gift from Harry for her fifteenth birthday. Of course he had sent it over to her during summer. The ribbon was a definite green, strikingly so, but with the different hues and shifting light of the corridor lamps, a prismatic aura of individual colors emerged from it. The ribbon wasn¡¯t charmed, as Ron had first thought, but was Muggle-made. A work of genius as Mrs. Weasly had said.

She took the ribbon and getting a generally large cluster of her bushy-silken hair, tied it in a loose pony. It would keep her hair out of her face for a while. That done, she turned the last corner and was about to pass by a flight of steps to the library – when out of nowhere, a terrific crash of glass and wood erupted from the steps, accompanied later by – a scream?

It took Hermione a while to realize that the scream had come from her. She looked about and found that she was lying on the floor, surrounded by numerous strips of miniature debris. Then she saw him. She froze – he was laying face-down on the carpeted floor, out cold. Cautiously, she crawled towards him, carefully trying to see if he had been injured in any way. Then she whispered his name ever so lightly, bare wisps of air escaping her lips.

He groaned, ¡°Ughhh¡¦¡±

The next moment he looked up to find her looking down on him. His heart skipped a beat, which he covered with another groan as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He rubbed his head and looked sideways at her, she was still looking at him intently – with, was it concern? Hmmm, this is interesting – he thought, - why don¡¯t I test this¡¦then he heard a hissing sound. She had obviously heard it too. Then he saw it.

¡°Hermione, take your robe off! Now!¡± he demanded.

She looked at him, confused and a slight hint of being offended, ¡°What? What are you¡¦?¡±

He didn¡¯t let her finish, instinctively; he reached over and stripped her robe off of her with one fluid, graceful movement. It took Hermione a while to comprehend what he had done, then she shouted at him, ¡°What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy!?¡±

He didn¡¯t even flinch. ¡°Saving your skin,¡± he replayed simply.

A familiar look came into her eyes, one that clearly said that she doubted every word he uttered. Draco simply pointed to her robe, which he had thrown not too far away, and told her simply again, ¡°Acid.¡±

Hermione¡¯s eyes glanced towards her robe, and sure enough it was hissing and smoking, a definite sign of the acid that was eating away the fabric and the carpet beneath. She sighed with relief, grateful that it was still not on her body, but she wasn¡¯t about to tell him ¡®Thank you¡¯. It didn¡¯t work that way.

Draco couldn¡¯t take his eyes off of her. She was obviously debating weather or not she should thank him, the outcome of which he had no care for. What he was interested in was her. He had a flashback of when she had fallen into the lake in their first year. He had no idea why she had been out there that night, nor did he know what had made him jump into the lake to save her. In that moment of raw fear and courage, he had involuntarily saved the life of a Mudblood, people he swore to hate. Little did he suspect that in the near future he would be attracted to her – a present fact that still made him uneasy.

She looked the same now as she had then; except for the fact the she wasn¡¯t wet. Slightly grateful, slightly annoyed, a bit perplexed at what had just taken place, slightly mad¡¦and with a number of other emotions whirling around inside her. Draco was surprised at how easily he could read her mind – and her body. It was hard to ignore the sight of Hermione sitting on the plush, heavily carpeted floor, without her robe on, just a white shirt that should have been a boy¡¯s and a small skirt – she seemed to have grown again¡¦hmmm.

Hermione noticed Draco looking at her, staring at her to be specific. Involuntarily, her eyes strayed towards his face – and those cold, striking gray eyes. Or was it gray? She couldn¡¯t tell, but she was certain that they were, one minute they seemed blue, another minute pale green, and yet again, a cool shade of cerulean, his eyes shifting in tune with the flickering of the lamps and the reflections of numerous objects around him.

But, she also saw something else in his eyes besides their odd characteristics to change color. It was his emotion. Clearly reflected through those cold stone eyes, she could see the raw agonizing emotions whirling around him. Emotions for which she could place no name – and yet still feared, instincts telling her that this was indeed something not to be taken lightly in, something sinister, evil.

Draco couldn¡¯t help it any longer; he had been keeping back the pain – the want – for so long now. It had to be set free. And what better time than this? No one was around, no one who would come and interrupt. To Draco, it seemed that some unknown, unnamed force had altered fate so that he could have the benefit of this situation – one which he was now determined not to lose.

His hand swiftly reached out and grabbed the lower portion of Hermione¡¯s hair, to keep her from moving, from escaping him. Obviously, she had sensed his intensions and was about to make a run for him, an attempt she did not succeed in. Draco pulled her in, close to his face and whispered, ever so lightly, words that chilled the frightened girl, making her whimper. ¡°Let¡¯s go somewhere private¡¦¡±

~ ¡Ä ~ ¡Ä ~ ¡Ä ~ ¡Ä ~

She resisted.

He was not surprised; in fact he wanted her to. It would make the experience all the more enjoyable – maybe not for her, but for him it would be. He looked around and saw a dark classroom in the far corner. Pulling Hermione to her feet, and locking her in a tight, immobile embrace, dragged her to the classroom. On the way she tried to brake free, at which point Draco made his intentions clear by twisting her arm behind her back, preventing her from moving. He pushed her against the far wall, leaned in, closing her off.

Wrenching the emerald ribbon from her hair, Draco quickly tied her hands above her head. The knot was simple, yet effective, for Hermione was now limited to only minimal movement. She struggled to loosen the knot, which only made it more unbearable, the cords tightening painfully around her wrists. He felt her body tremble distinctively as his hands trailed hotly up those milky white legs.

Hermione gasped, terrified, almost screamed. In the now darkened classroom, Draco took out his wand and whispered a spell that cast a low golden glow throughout the room – not too bright, for it might draw unwanted visitors, and not too low, Draco wanted to be able to see¡¦well, her. After a moment¡¯s thought, Draco pointed the tip of his wand at Hermione¡¯s throat, whispered ¡°Silencio Vozenum¡± – at which point Hermione became mute. She will not be able to scream for help.

Hermione not only trembled with terror, she froze with it. Now that she couldn¡¯t utter even a whisper, she was completely defeated. She still couldn¡¯t believe that this was happening, she couldn¡¯t comprehend the situation. But she knew one thing, she will not be able to escape, it was impossible. With her hands tied and her voice muted, she had lost all her defenses. The only thing she could do was look pleadingly into his eyes.

He shivered, anticipating what was about to come, quaked with pent up excitement, and the expectation pumped the blood hot through his veins, making him flush. He saw her looking at him, silently begging him to not do what he intended to do – but it was beyond his power now. The most primitive urges were rushing through his body, heat eliminating from the most private places of him. As if in agreement with his mind, his body reacted instantaneously, pressure building in his middle. He would have to move quickly.

Breathing deeply of her lush hair, he trailed fiery kisses down her temples, to her chin, down her neck, and boldly parted her shirt. His long lean hand entered, she trembled – then froze. Taking advantage, he quickly enclosed one of her breasts, fondled it, felt it harden, and leaned in closer. Hermione held her breath – she couldn¡¯t believe it, couldn¡¯t help herself, her body was reacting to his. Horrified, her eyes began to fill with salty tears but she held them at bay.

Encouraged by her reaction, he gracefully, swiftly, unbuttoned her shirt. With both hands he slowly parted the fabric and enriched his desires with the sight that which beautified his eyes. He looked at her breasts, marveled at them, loved them, and began cherishing them. To show his appreciation, and to satisfy his own urge, he took one in each hand and began playing with them, sensuously.

Hermione held her breath, she could feel her breasts growing hard, didn¡®t want them to¡¦and yet, strangely, didn¡¯t want him to stop. She was horrified, by the ordeal she was going through¡¦and by her own desire. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, answering to the strokes and caresses it was receiving. Slowly, her back rose off the wall, arched toward his body. He met her, just so that his heat seemed to scorch her lower abdomen. He groaned, an animalistic sound.

He shifted his right hand, snaked it around her waist, lowered it boldly swept over her bottom – round, so firm – and fingered its way to her inner thigh. She tried to block him by bringing her legs together, but he shoved his knee between them and allowed his hand through. Once inside, he quickly maneuvered her panties off of her.

Hermione screamed – or would have. Although muted, he could tell that she was screaming - he felt it in her body. She tensed as his finger, or was it several, entered her. Then, just as quickly as he had entered her, he was out. For a second she was confused, and then found that his hand was back in its original place. He grunted, groaned, gasped, moaned, pushed, petted, thrusted, caressed, kissed, sucked¡¦

The next minute, they were on the cold floor, twisting, writhing over one another, bucking with urges, desires that demanded to be let loose. He could tell that she was not scared, at least not of him any longer; she was scared of her desires. But he didn¡¯t have the time or patience to think, the demands were too great. But he spared himself one moment to look at her face.

She was flushed, a color that made her face even more beautiful. She opened her eyes, still stained with traces of tears that were no longer there. Then, a light pressure touched her lips, so gentle, sweet, velvet¡¦ It took her a while to realize that Draco was kissing her, ever so delicately. Shocked, she instinctively opened her mouth the slightest bit, and that was all he needed. He entered. His warm tongue explored her, very corner, all the little crevices in her, took her so completely. Involuntarily, she moaned, and the gasped at her own reaction.

By now Draco was out of his clothes, a process he had no recollection of completing. Hermione¡¯s shirt and skirt seemed to have disappeared too – a thing he was immensely grateful for. Their bare bodies rubbed against each other, driven by instinct, clinging. Hermione couldn¡¯t believe it. She was overflowing with such¡¦energy, so much energy, sex energy. Draco was too. They were loosing themselves in the act, an act so forbidden¡¦

Finally, the foreplay coming to an end, he entered her with a quick, fluid movement. She gasped at the intimated intrusion, her body tensing for a split second, then, relaxing. He began moving in a smooth, liquid rhythm, driving both of them to ecstasy. They clung to each other, Hermione quickly catching hold and moving in rhythm with the thrusting of his body. Each movement was like death ripping its way into her very being, but she couldn¡¯t stop.

Moving¡¦

Thrusting¡¦

Becoming¡¦one.

In one final thrust, the last steps to the forbidden dance performed in the shadow of an abandoned classroom, he emptied himself into her. Forbidden. That was what this had been¡¦on one was to know, will be allowed to know. He would make sure of it. He promised to himself that no harm would come to this one beautiful creature in his arms, the one he had come to look upon so preciously. No, on one would know. He silently whispered to himself three simple, yet utterly powerful words, as both his and her world shattered into a billion shards of blinding, prismatic glass¡¦