Author's Note: Thank you for reviewing my story, I appreciate it. I've decided to rate the chapters rather than the entire story. This chapter is rated R for sexual content, nothing fancy, just honest.

Pairings: Draco and Hermione

Rating: R

Summary: Draco Malfoy had always hated that Harry Potter and his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, and the hatred had magnified since they had landed his once highly-esteemed father in the wizard prison Azkaban. That was why nobody would put it past him to feign injury in order to torture Hermione Granger into doing his work for him in the name of vengeance on Potter. But what happens when an emotion much stronger than revenge begins to take hold? Could it be that fate has other plans?

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, then Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just a 16-year-old American girl who likes Eminem and writes fanfictions based on my work. Idiot.

Shadows of Light

Chapter 8

For a moment, Hermione was trapped in his stony gaze. She straightened up to her full height where the top of her head just barely grazed his strong chin.

She then scooped up her bag, turned on her heel and began to walk away from Draco, the reluctance to face him still determining her movements. She had only taken three steps when his large figure barricaded her path. Hermione stared angrily at his torso, refusing to meet his icy eyes. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"Hmmmmm, not even a 'hello'? Or a 'thanks, Draco, for saving my life'?" he drawled.

Hermione now met his cold gray stare. "Fine. Why didn't you show up on time? That's twice already that you've been considerably late. I know this is only a punishment, but that doesn't give you the right to go shoving me off, especially after what happened earlier!" she fumed.

Malfoy gave an elegant shrug. "I had other things to do."

A wave of rage swept over her. "Like what? Putting unforgivable curses on other harmless creatures! Don't think I don't know what you're up to!"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You don't know the half of it Granger. But if you know what's good for you, you will just shut up about things that you don't understand!"

Hermione backed away from Malfoy who now looked just as livid as she had been feeling earlier. "Just leave me alone, Malfoy," she said quietly averting her gaze from his.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Granger," Draco snarled.

"And why not?" she demanded her voice rising passionately.

Draco chose not to answer her question.

"I don't understand you," Hermione went on glaring at him.

Draco's eyes grew angry, and then a sneer spread across his pale face. "What makes you think I want you to understand me, Mudblood?"

Hermione glared at him, chocolate fire dancing in her dark eyes. For a moment, she didn't speak. "Because," she spat her every syllable trembled with white hot rage. "You call me a Mudblood as if it's the most disgraceful thing in the world to be born from Muggles. But I can think of something worse. Being born into a family based on prejudice and hypocrisy, being taught to hate the same thing you worship. It's not my father in Azkaban! It's not my blood!" She touched his arm, lightly, an almost forgiving gesture.

"Don't touch me Granger," Malfoy replied frigidly pulling away from her as if her truth and gentleness burned him.

"Your pureblood is the reason for all of this misery," she whispered turning away from him. He grabbed her wrist, halting her movements. "What do you want from me?"

Draco smirked. "What do you think, Granger?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "I could think of a few things Malfoy, none of them very pleasant."

Malfoy let out a low husky chuckle. "I'm not as bad as you think I am, Granger," he muttered huskily, stepping slowly towards her.

Blood pounded in Hermione's ears and her heart thumped madly in her chest. "No, Malfoy, your worse. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really should be going."

But it was too late, Hermione tried to turn away from the heat radiating from him, she tried to turn her face away from his, tried to unlock her eyes from his mercury glare. Her bag fell to the floor, but neither of them noticed the thump it made as it hit the polished wooden floor.

His finger lifted her chin, tilting her face towards his. "You're right… I am much… " his face was very close to hers, "much… " she could smell his cinnamon breath, "worse," he murmured finally closing his mouth over hers.

A slow, powerful heat enveloped them both. Hermione tried to keep her mouth closed against his, but it was no use. His tongue slid in between her lips and her gasp of surprise gave him the full admittance he sought. She moaned against his lips.

Draco dipped her head back further as his mouth devoured hers. Hermione's lips moved against his, helpless under the fierce passion that he was pouring into her.

Draco removed his mouth from hers to trail his hot tongue down her sensitive neck. Hermione let out an involuntary gasp as his tongue massaged the particularly delicate spot between the nape of her neck and the curve of her shoulder. She hardly noticed that her modest robes had been pulled away from her shoulder to expose more tender skin.

A voice in the back of her head cried for her to stop, to pull away, to end this maddening behavior. But as Draco's lips once again took savage possession of her mouth, her voice of reason was silenced.

Draco reached out his hand, groping the wall until he found what he was looking for, the door to an empty classroom. He twisted the doorknob and they stumbled in. Hermione pulled away, a look of terror in her eyes, but Draco wasn't thinking rationally. Before she could move, the door was locked and Draco had turned towards her, a dangerous look in his eyes.

Hermione was aware of backing away, aware of her quickened pulse, aware of her disheveled robes, but she was not aware of the bookcase that was behind her, until her back hit it, ceasing her futile escape.

In moments, Draco had cornered her. "Don't tell me you don't want this," he whispered in a hoarse voice, his tongue plunging into her ear. Hermione let out a soft whimper, and her eyes fluttered shut.

His hot mouth traveled down the column of her throat, and she rolled her head back to give him better access. A wild desire seemed to drive her actions. Before she knew what she was doing, her robes had fallen to the ground to pool around her feet.

His hand cupped her tingling breast. Her clothes began to feel hot and itchy. She pulled her sweater over her head, freeing her breasts from their confinement. He stood for a moment, taking her in, before devouring her. He began to kiss her neck, softly, almost gently, his hand massaging her nipples. She could feel her nipples becoming more erect, longing for his touch. Then he lowered his mouth to one, her right one. She let out a gasp of pleasure as he tickled it with his tongue, occasionally biting it gently, before moving to the other one.

She could feel herself lowering to the ground, taking him with her. His shirt and his robes seemed to have vanished instantaneously. She could feel his fingers undoing the clasp on her jeans, and she grabbed his manhood, feeling it pulsing through the denim that was restraining it. It was his turn to let out a gasp, planting wet kisses on as much of her skin as he could reach.

She was pulling at his zipper, his pants were tangled around his ankles, then they were gone, somewhere, neither cared where. Her pants were next, it didn't take long for her to cast them away into the realm of nonexistence.

She could feel his finger slide into her, stroking her very core. His tongue was probing her bellybutton. She moaned against his touch. Then, slowly and deliberately, he moved his mouth lower. She almost couldn't stand it as his tongue entered her. Ripples of pleasure cascaded throughout her entire body.

"Take me," she whispered. For a moment, she thought he had not heard her, but then he moved away, catching her eye. His glare was of the hungry animal catching its prey. Then, he granted her wish.

With one deep, powerful thrust, he entered her. Her breath caught as he delved deeper, never taking his eyes from hers. That was when it struck, a wave of pain coursed throughout all of Hermione, wiping away every hint of desire. She felt cold and used. He didn't stop, the pain continued. It felt as though it was a hundred knives rather than Draco Malfoy inside of her, her every nerve was on fire and she could hear herself screaming.

He pulled out of her, there was blood on him and he was pulsing. Her body shook in great spasms and there were tortured tears in her eyes. Draco took in the delicate curves of her breast, her taut, red nipples, her small stomach, the triangle of hair masking her womanhood. She began to move, closing her legs slowly, gingerly. Her thighs ached and the pain that had seemed so real a moment ago had become a dull throb. She wanted not to move, she wanted to wait for the pain to ebb, but she had no such luck.

Draco was already getting dressed. He threw her clothes to her as he reached them. Draco looked at her, his expression almost too easy to read. He looked guilty.

"Listen, I… I'm sorry if I hurt you," he muttered turning away from her.

Hermione flinched as she moved to collect her clothes. "You didn't," she lied.

"I wasn't talking about that," he muttered almost too softly to hear, "I was talking about this." He opened the door, his wand poised. "Accio Bovioria!"

It was in those brief seconds, while they waited, Hermione noticed the hand holding his wand. It was aimed expertly as if he had been using that hand to cast spells all his life. Then she noticed something much less subtle; on the marble floor a little way out from where they were standing was a white piece of cloth that was unmistakably the sling that had previously held Draco's perfectly capable right arm. Draco wasn't hurt. He was faking after all… but how?

Draco wasn't looking at her. She pulled her robes closer to her. "Draco…" she whispered, reaching out to him.

A threadlike silver object was whizzing towards them. Draco closed his fingers around it and turned to Hermione with a grim expression masking his handsome features.

Draco grabbed her left hand and closed the silver object around her tiny wrist. It seemed to cling to her pale skin. Hermione looked down at it in confusion. It was a thin silver line on her wrist. There were no jewels or designs. It was simply a line that snaked across her wrist. One would think it was drawn on in silvery ink that did not wash off. Hermione touched it, but there was no distinguishing between the bracelet and Hermione's skin save the color change.

"I didn't want to do this Granger," he muttered looking down at the line on Hermione's wrist. She looked at him, comprehension dawning.

"Why would you do this?" she demanded. Draco could sense she was not only talking about the Bovioria.

"Didn't you realize," he muttered turning away from her so that she could only see the sleek hair on the back of his head, "that after all of this was over; I would deny the entire thing and go back to being horrible to you?"

"You can turn your head from things you don't want to look at, Draco Malfoy, but you cannot turn your heart from emotions you don't want to feel," Hermione whispered, tears prickling her eyes.

"Watch me," he muttered.

Hermione stared at him as if he were mad. But before she could utter another word, he was gone with a swish of his long black cloak.

Her eyes burned against a wave of tears. Giving in to what every instinct in her body screamed against, she began to sob until her entire body shook in violent fits of pain. For hours she cried and screamed on the cold hard floor of the empty classroom.

It seemed that hours had passed before Hermione made her solitary way up to the Gryffindor dormitory.

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Her face looked horrible, red and splotchy so that everyone could tell she had been crying. She splashed cold water on her face, feeling her skin come alive under the icy drops. She changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth.

She was just loading up her toothbrush a second time when a voice echoed in the empty room.

"Merlin Granger, how many times do you have to brush your teeth before they're clean?" It didn't take Hermione long to recognize that cold drawl. She spun around on the spot.

"Malfoy? Where are you?" There was no answer; the bathroom was completely vacant except for her. Hermione pulled back the shower curtain, no one there. Hermione yanked open the cupboard but it too was devoid of any conceded Slytherin pricks.

"Show yourself!" Hermione whispered through gritted teeth.

"I'm right here," Malfoy's voice laughed. She followed the sound and found herself looking at her own reflection in the mirror. But Draco's voice seemed to be coming from her. How was this possible?

"I know what you're thinking Granger," the disembodied, but no less arrogant, voice went on to say. "You're wondering what that silver band does on your wrist. Am I wrong?" Hermione didn't respond, anger ceasing her retort. He was right, she was wondering that but she wasn't about to admit it.

"I see what's in your head, Granger. I can feel your anguish, almost as my own." He began to whisper something, Hermione couldn't decipher it. However, the next instant it became clear, her body began to feel less tired, the ache in her lower regions was diminishing and her head, which was throbbing, felt suddenly much better.

"This changes nothing, Malfoy," she lied, though her voice was much less harsh than it had been earlier.

"I'm not a bad guy, Hermione."

"Go away," she almost pleaded. "Stop playing these mind games on me Malfoy. And I'm not meeting you in the library anymore either, since it's obvious you don't need…. " Suddenly, her throat constricted causing her to gasp for air.

"Sorry, love had to do it. You understand of course. You will meet me in the library at seven, just as we've been doing and if you try and tell anyone about my arm," Hermione's throat closed completely before opening the oxygen passage once more. "I'm not all bad Granger. In time you'll understand."

A sudden horrible thought struck Hermione. "Can you read my mind? Is that why I can hear you and you me?" she gasped clutching the sink to steady her wobbly legs.

Another soft chuckle sounded. "You can hear me because I want you to hear me. I can hear you when I want to hear you and I can see you likewise."

"But how?" Hermione touch the gleaming bracelet that encircled her wrist. It couldn't be.... could it? She looked down at her encompassed limb where the silver band shimmered innocently in the light. "Malfoy! Are you using this bracelet to control my mind?"

There was no answer. "Malfoy?"

Hermione walked back to the large stone sink and picked up her toothbrush, secretly waiting for Malfoy to say something else. But he did not speak again. She padded out of the bathroom and climbed on her four-poster, carefully listening for a snide drawling voice, or a sigh, or a deep mirthless chuckle, but none came.

Hermione remembered when he had used the summoning charm. He had become quiet, pensive even and then he summoned a Bovioria, and this silver band had come to its master's call. The word sounded in her head, Bovioria. That was what he had summoned, Bovioria, and he was using this Bovioria control her mind.

Hermione pulled her covers up and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to wash over her, ignoring the nagging feeling of disappointment deep in her heart.

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I'm sorry if I depressed anyone, but I am having a hard time in my life, and I tend to write according to mood. This chapter was influenced by "Figured You Out" by Nickleback, good song, also "My Immortal" by Evanescence.

Okay please review. I know this chapter was a little strange, but it's a crucial turning point in the plot. So I hope you enjoyed it and please, please review.