Chapter Two: An Irritating Case of Pink Eye

That was it. The final straw. She really couldn't be held responsible for her actions now. It was out of her hands. Malfoy had pushed just a little too hard. Well, actually he'd gotten into a bulldozer, not that he knew what they were, and pushed her five miles down the street. And who would blame her for fighting back? You don't curse a girl's lineage, say she's diseased, and make fun of her hair all in one sitting. There was only so much a person can take.

After her burns were healed and Madame Pomfrey gave a few pointers on the Fervens Ferrum spell, Hermione was off. She had nodded patiently and appreciated Madame Pomfrey's advice, but she had no time for such childish endeavors. Ron wasn't able to notice a new hair style, anyway. Hermione Granger now had a new mission. That mission, of course, involved the library. Due to a stroke of genius she knew exactly what she was looking for.

Hermione's plan for a revenge spell was inspired by her Great Uncle Gilbert. Nevermind that Malfoy had indirectly given her the idea in the first place. It was all Great Uncle Gilbert. She had only one real memory of the man. It involved a pair of giant sunglasses that an eight year old Hermione had been horribly envious of. They had been extraordinary spectacles that wrapped clear around the sides of his head, not letting so much as a drop of light in. She had wanted them so bad but the stubborn old man had only chuckled and told her he couldn't dare to part with them.

Gilbert had his cataracts removed, Hermione's mother had explained when the child came to complain to her. He hadn't been able to see and he needed the special glasses to protect his eyes after surgery. Excuses, excuses, as far as Hermione had been concerned at the time. But she was interested in the grey film that had slowly grown over his eyes, stealing his sight from him.

"A-Ha!" Hermione smiled deviously as she found her prey in the confines of a particularly dusty book. Apparently there wasn't much demand for books on eyeballs. She found this odd given that most kids love gross stuff like that. It was in Middle English, so maybe that had something to do with it. Hmm.

Nebulosus Oculus. The perfect spell for the occasion. Draco Malfoy wouldn't have to see her ever again once she cast this.

-----

Whereas Hermione sought the solace of the library, Draco Malfoy delivered himself to the hungry arms of one Pansy Parkinson. Unfortunately, Pansy would have none of it. She was not about to chance infecting herself with the horrible Muggle parasite even for a kiss from her beloved Draco. Malfoy really wasn't in a kissing mood, anyway. The confrontation with Granger had left him frustrated and angry. Kissing usually got him the invitation to continue to more interesting activities; and sex had seemed the best outlet for what was raging through his system. That or killing something, but Pansy had come along first.

For as bitchy as Pansy was to nearly every other being on the face of the earth, she babied Malfoy like there was no tomorrow. She coddled him when he was hurt, hung off of every word he said, and always made him feel important. He had no idea was drove her to act like a complete flake around him, nor did he care, but he enjoyed it. Even if it did grate on his nerves at times, he was almost always guaranteed a willing partner. Except maybe in this case, it seemed.

It was a pleasant surprise, therefore, when after she turned away from his kiss her slender little fingers moved down to flutter over the fly of his trousers. "How about I give you a little pick me up instead," she smiled coyly and bit her lip. Malfoy's scowl morphed quickly into a satisfied smirk. This required even less work on his part. Perfect! He settled happily into the chair by his bed.

Pansy Parkinson didn't waste time getting to business. Just as in her everyday life, she was efficient. You didn't want to get on the wrong side of her. When someone pushed one of her buttons, the ramifications were immediate. If her Draco was feeling crummy, she would fix it the best and fastest way she knew how. And she knew how much he loved this.

She reached into his pants and gently pulled out what she sought. Malfoy could hardly help his body's reaction given that he was a teenage boy. His body knew what was coming and could hardly wait to feel the warm chamber of Pansy's mouth. As she worked away, Malfoy took a moment to reflect. Why was it that he loved this so much? Besides the obvious, it probably had to do with his lack of involvement. He could sit idly back and let his partner do everything. Malfoy wasn't one to really dirty his hands. Sex involved all sorts of sweat and quite a bit of work, especially if it was going to be done right. And it had to be done right, or the girl would go tell her friends that Draco Malfoy couldn't get her off. That was a horrendous thought.

Pansy was always a safe bet though. Just being in the same room with him got her knickers wet. If his hands got anywhere near the same neighborhood as what lay beneath those soaked undergarments, she was a goner. That's probably why Pansy was the only girl he ever tried to bring to the edge with just his fingers. It was just so easy, but she had such a strong reaction Malfoy felt such a feeling of accomplishment. Other girls he had to go down on, and it kind of smelled down there some of the time. All of this after he had already gotten what he came for, so he really wasn't in the mood. It was all quite unpleasant.

But this, Malfoy stroked Pansy's hair as her head bobbed up and down, this was good. Plus, he didn't have to see her awful little pug face when she was thus occupied. That's probably why he liked to do her from behind as well. Bent over the table in the Slytherin common room was a personal favorite. He felt himself twitch at the idea, but knew he didn't have the time. Pansy swallowed as Malfoy found release. He waited for the satisfying popping sound as he slipped out from between her lips. He loved that part.

"Feel better, Drakey?" she winked and stood up.

"Marvelous," he smirked and lazily trailed a finger up her toned thigh. She shuddered heavily at his touch. "You're too good to me, Pansy." He ran his middle finger along the cloth that covered her slit. She'd spread her legs to accommodate the intrusion and tried to find purchase against the digit. Malfoy retreated and looked up at her innocently. "Is there something you want?"

"Yes," she hissed and grabbed blindly at his hand. She shoved it between her legs and ground wantonly against it. This was how it always worked. He would acknowledge what she had given him, because he knew she needed to hear that. To keep feeding her sick desire to mother him. But he loved to hear her beg.

Malfoy couldn't help but smile in self-satisfaction as he set his fingers to work. He slid inside the bands of her barely existent and completely soaked underwear and directly into Pansy's folds. "Now what could it be?" he pondered mockingly and teased his fingers around.

"Please," Pansy managed to whine. She was gazing up at the ceiling, practically praying, as she pushed Malfoy's hand tightly against her center. With one inserted deeply inside, his thumb found her button. Even here, Malfoy really didn't need to put forth much effort. Pansy's hips did the majority of the work, he just held his hand still while the other slipped around to grab her ass. Malfoy wondered for a moment whether they might try that someday, but couldn't be bothered to care much. He was quickly losing interest in the girl hovering above him.

Pansy had grabbed the chair on either side of his head for support and was panting most unattractively into his ear. Malfoy decided he had had enough of Pansy Parkinson for the moment. After she reached climax, and shrieked into his ear, Malfoy wiped his hands off on her skirt and left the room. It was time to find new company, even if it was Crabbe and Goyle.

"We can show her a thing or two," Goyle smirked when Malfoy reported on the happenings of the infirmary.

"Like a knuckle sandwich," Crabbe chuckled idiotically at his own cleverness. Malfoy weighed the pros and cons of the suggestion. It did have its merits. A swift right hook delivered to Granger's face did give him a nice, comforting feeling in his stomach. But no, this time he would handle things on his own. Plus, given he wasn't exactly big on physical confrontation, a spell really was the wiser choice. A spell that delivered the same results was about as close to perfect as one could get.

He had found it in one of Goyle's spell books. Not that the oaf would ever be able to cast it on his own. Turgida Luminis. The spell was pure genius. Draco would rather eat bubotuber puss before admitting that Mudblood Granger had given him the initial idea to begin with. And no one ever needed know that Crabbe and Goyle had been the inspiration. Goyle just had the damn book to see the gross pictures.

-----

In some circles, the events that transpired would be regarded as an instance of 'great minds think alike.' In this case, however, both parties would have been greatly offended by such an insinuation. Then, they would have proceeded to accuse the other of stealing their idea. If it had been explained to each how the other had come across their solution Hermione would have called Malfoy a pervert, while he would have referred to her as a bookworm who had an unhealthy obsession with her great uncle. But this is all beside the point, back to our story.

Hermione Granger was in her room practicing, of course. In any other case Hermione would have been able to let go of such anger. It really wasn't healthy, or productive, to hold onto such negative feelings. But they simply wouldn't go away. She couldn't study efficiently, she couldn't sleep well, everything was off. All because Draco Malfoy had to make fun of her hair.

Now, rationally, she knew that it wasn't all Malfoy. It was a combination of her roommates attitude towards her appearance, Ron's ignorance of her very gender, Ron's obsession with that awful Fleur, the adhesive that sealed Ron's lips to Lavender's, Ron's determination to be a complete moron, etc. Problems were simply compounding. But, Hermione couldn't very well take out her anger and frustration on her friends. Malfoy was the best target.

So, Hermione was going to bide her time. What was the point to hurting Malfoy when he was still sick? She would wait till he was better, then strike. Only then would he experience the full force of her amazing spell.

"He'll get what's coming to him," Hermione nodded and looked to Crookshanks for support. The cat regarded her with his huge eyes, but soon turned back to attacking her toes. "Sorry Crookshanks, time for you to go," Hermione picked up the bushy ginger cat and dropped him off outside the dorm room door. He meowed in protest, but Hermione knew he would just attack the dust bunnies she transfigured and make things a lot more difficult.

"I just wish I new what he was up to," Harry mumbled a week later during breakfast. Ron glanced across the Great Hall and watched the pale Slytherin pick at his food.

"Give it a rest, Harry," Ron sighed before returning to attacking Lavender's neck. The girl giggled brainlessly and Hermione thought she might be sick.

"Do they have to neck during every single meal?" she complained to Harry, "Or is it just the ones I'm at?" But Harry wasn't even close to listening. Currently he was glaring at Malfoy, trying to figure out what horrible evil the boy was up to. But Hermione knew Malfoy was just taking his sweet time recuperating from his stupid cold. She had Nebulosus Oculus down to a science and was just waiting for the opportunity to present itself.

-----

Malfoy was sick and tired of Potter staring at him. The Boy Who Lived to be Obnoxious was really starting to grate on his nerves. Malfoy just did not have time to deal with nosy Potter and Co. He was still trying to deal with that damn dresser, and he just couldn't shake this cold. Madame Pomfrey was less than helpful in that department. If he was told to drink fluids one more time he would be forced to hurt someone.

Now that he thought of it, he still hadn't brought down the almighty Wrath of Malfoy upon the unsuspecting Mudblood. He had been so busy with his dark duties and ditching Potter it had completely slipped his mind. To her credit, she had kept out of his hair since the run-in in the infirmary. It must have taken all of her effort, but it had been a nice break. But the time had come, Malfoy decided.

Lady Luck decided to favor Draco Malfoy for once that very evening. The opportunity he was hoping for made itself available after dinner. He spotted Granger separate herself from the group of Potter lovers and head towards the library. Figures.

Malfoy pulled out his wand and followed after her stealthily. The heels of her horrendous shoes echoed off the walls as the sounds of their fellow schoolmates disappeared into the distance. No one else in their right minds were heading to the library. It was Friday night. Even the O.W.L. students were clocking in some much needed social time.

As she headed up a flight of stairs, Malfoy saw his chance. He pulled his fisted wand hand back, shouted the spell, and threw his fist forward as if he was punching the air.

"Turgida-," the spell was halfway out of his lips with Granger turned to face him. Her wand was already in hand, pointed directly at his face. It was like she knew he had been back there. She drew a small circle in the air and mumbled something as Malfoy finished. "Luminis!" And then a spectacular mess of black and blue sparks flew through the air towards the bushy haired Gryffindor, but not before she finished her own incantation. Malfoy turned to run, wishing he could see the Mudblood be thrown to the floor by the sheer power of his spell, but knowing it was better to try and escape whatever Granger sent his way.

Before he could make the turn out of the stairway and into the corridor he was surrounded by a dense grey fog. Malfoy soon realized, however, the fog wasn't around him, it was in his eyes. A silvery mass was creeping along his line of vision, blocking out nearly all light and turning objects into unrecognizable blobs. He could hardly believe Granger had gotten him, and with a spell that nearly mirrored his own. She had been planning just as he had been. How embarrassing.

The only consolation Malfoy got as he felt his way back to the Slytherin Common Room was the memory of most unladylike words coming from the mouth of the Mudblood when his spell had hit.

-----

It felt like she had been punched in the face. Several times. By a very large man. With brass knuckles. And other unsavory characteristics. And it hurt! And she couldn't see worth a darn since both eyes had swelled up to unimaginable sizes. Her spell had only robbed Malfoy of his sight, and not even all of it at that, but she hadn't caused him any pain. She needed to learn to be more ruthless. Maybe he would fall down a flight of stairs. That would be a start.

Hermione knew she couldn't return to the Common Room looking like this. Harry didn't need to get anymore riled up than he already was. She never wanted Ron to see her looking like this. And she'd hate not knowing if Ron sought out vengeance just because it was an excuse to kick Malfoy's ass, or if her really cared she had been hurt. That was an awful thing to say, but a person could not be expected to think rationally when they have two black eyes.

He probably wouldn't be able to extract his hand from Lavender's bra long enough to fight, anyway.

Besides, she really needed to see Madame Pomfrey. Surely she would be able to clear her mutilated face up in a jiffy.

"Ms. Granger!" Hermione turned towards the sound of the medi-witch rushing to her rescue. It had taken quite a while to find the hospital wing with no eye sight, a bad headache, and severely bruised ego. The castle had been sending her in circles for what seemed like hours. But she had made it.

"Ah, um. Hello, Madame Pomfrey," she replied stupidly and shut the door carefully behind her.

"What happened to you child?" the nurse asked as she gingerly touched and inspected the injury done to Hermione's face.

"Yes, well…" Hermione trailed off. She had no idea what to say. She couldn't very well admit she had been dueling with Malfoy in the school corridors. Sure, he had attacked her first, but she had retaliated with a spell she had been working on for just such an occasion. It was pre-meditated. Hermione could feel the Head Girl badge slipping out of her grasp.

"This is the second eye injury tonight," Madame Pomfrey continued with outrage. "Mr. Malfoy just checked in with a horrible case of Magical Cataracts."

"Oh, really?" Hermione replied weakly. A horrible case, eh? Excellent. But that meant Malfoy was in sick bay, and had spilled everything. Of course he would find a way to wiggle out of this. Hermione felt a strong desire to ring his pale little neck.

"Apparently a potion backfired," the medi-witch continued in carefully measured tones. "I suppose I'll have to speak with that new professor about his lesson plan. It must be far too dangerous," Madame Pomfrey quickly switched gears. "Well, child, what happened to you? Out with it now. Did you have trouble with a potion, dear?"

Malfoy hadn't told. Hermione wasn't sure how to react. She couldn't very well tell the truth now. She couldn't let Malfoy of all people be the bigger person.

"I, uh, I forgot about that trick step, and fell," Hermione mentally slapped herself at the idiotic lie that flew from her mouth.

"Really," Madame Pomfrey's voice practically dripped with incredulity.

"Yes, you know me," Hermione tried to cover her tracks. "Hermione the Klutz. I still haven't mastered Fervens Ferrum yet, I just can't seem to get the hang of it."

"I know the difference between a magical and non-magical injury Ms. Granger," Madame Pomfrey's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Madame Pomfrey-."

"Just as I know Mr. Malfoy's cataracts were not brought on by any potion."

"Really?"

"I understand student may have disputes, Ms. Granger," the nurse continued in her low, calm whisper. "I just wish they didn't have to involve my infirmary."

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," Hermione quickly replied, wishing she could make eye contact with the woman who stood before her. She felt so ashamed. She had acted like such a child.

"I'm sure it won't," Madame Pomfrey patted Hermione softly on the head. "For now, you'll have to spend the evening in the infirmary along with Mr. Malfoy."

"What?" Hermione managed to choke out. "It's going to take that long?"

"For magic induced injuries such as these, yes," she replied. "If you had actually fallen down the stairs it would have been easier. You have to stay so I can change your bandages and monitor you during the night."

Hermione succumbed to her fate and accepted the hospital robe from Madame Pomfrey. After being led to her bed, checked for any other injuries, treated with an ointment that smelled like meat and cucumbers, Madame Pomfrey left her to get some sleep.

"So, you fell down the stairs, Mudblood?" Malfoy's voice came from surprisingly close. He was in the bed to her left. Wonderful. What had Madame Pomfrey been smoking?

"I didn't realize you had such troubles in Potions, Malfoy," Hermione spat back. "Would you like me to ask Neville if he could tutor you?"

"You smell awful, like rancid meat."

"It's Eau de Malfoy, I thought you might recognize it."

"I suppose it's an improvement over your normal Mudblood stench then."

"Shut up Malfoy."

"Clever."

Hermione had to literally slap a hand over her mouth from replying. She knew she would only encourage him if she continued. And talking with Draco Malfoy was very low on the list of activities she wanted to engage in at the moment. Sleep was a very high priority, however, as it involved not hearing the awful little ferret.

And she did sleep, until she was rudely awakened by the grating noise that was Pansy Parkinson's laugh.

"Visiting hours are over, Parkinson," Hermione growled. The curtain rings rattled as the fabric was pulled roughly to the side.

"Draco needs me," Pansy retorted. "I wouldn't have to sneak into the hospital wing in the first place if you could keep your filthy little Mudblood hands off of him."

"I didn't touch him," Hermione sat up and snapped in the direction she was pretty sure Pansy stood. It was hard to be intimidating when you couldn't see.

"How do the effects of my spell look?" Malfoy interjected coolly. "Nice and swollen, I hope."

"I can't see her face, Draco. She's wrapped up like a mummy. The look is an improvement, but she does smell awful, doesn't she?" and the giggling recommenced.

"I noticed that too," Malfoy replied dully. "Come on back, Pansy." Hermione heard the curtains to the left of her bed shift back into place.

"So, is there anything you need before you go to sleep?" The rancid tones of Pansy's voice she had used when talking to Hermione were replaced by saccharine sweet ones.

"There is one thing," Malfoy replied. Hermione distinctly heard the sound of rustling sheets.

"Here, Draco?" Pansy asked in a whisper. "But Granger-."

"It doesn't bother me. She can't see anything, anyway," Malfoy said with a scoff. "The Mudblood could do with some excitement in her life. I doubt even Weasel or Saint Potter have ventured into that territory."

"True," Pansy giggled. Behind the layers of gauze, Hermione narrowed her eyes. She knew it had been an insult, but it just wasn't clear to her what exactly it meant.

"Get a move on then," Malfoy said crisply. "I need to get my beauty sleep."

"What about that awful nurse?"

"Muffliato," Malfoy cast a spell. "Silencing Charm, don't worry about . Now get on with it or do I have to take care of it myself?"

"No!" Pansy shrieked. "Let me just get these off." There was a pause and Hermione heard the creaking of the sad little hospital cot. Everything became very clear, very quickly.

No. Way.

"You're not doing what I think you're doing!" Hermione demanded from her bed, cheeks on fire. "Are you?"

"Back off Granger," Malfoy snapped. "Merlin, Pansy, you're so wet."

"You know how you make me feel, Drakey," Pansy purred. "I'm always ready for you." Hermione felt her stomach lurch.

"Will you two pervs at least keep it down?" Hermione asked in a slight panic, not knowing how to handle the situation.

"Will you shut up Granger? Pansy, you on top," Malfoy ordered crisply. "I can't see a bloody thing."

"Oh, Draco!" Pansy's obnoxious little voice squealed with delight. The bed began to gently creak.

"Stop that!" Hermione sat up straighter in bed and shouted in the direction of the offending noises.

"Is there a problem, Granger?" Malfoy's voice sounded entirely nonchalant over the sounds of the soft squeaks coming from both Pansy and the hospital cot.

"No problems here!" Pansy reported happily. "I thought, uh, I wouldn't, yes, get to, that's it, right there. That fucking nurse made me leave. Yes, yes, uhn!"

"I'm trying to sleep, Malfoy," Hermione finally worked up the courage to say, only a slight tremor betrayed her bravado.

"I'm trying to get some pussy."

"Ew!"

"My pussy is so wet for you Draco," Pansy panted. "So fucking hot. Fuck me, Draco."

"Merlin, Parkinson," Hermione said in amazement. How could Pansy be doing this right on the other side of a curtain? How could anyone talk like that?

"Jealous, Granger?" Pansy managed to get out between grunts.

"Hardly," Hermione sneered. "I simply have no desire to be witness to the mating rituals of Slytherins."

"It's as much action as you'll ever see," Malfoy sounded amazingly collected compared to the ridiculous moaning that was emanating from Pansy Parkinson. "Or hear, rather."

"Screw you, Malfoy," Hermione regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

"Sorry, I'm taken at the moment," Malfoy quipped.

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation," Hermione said in disbelief. "And you two are having sex in the infirmary!"

"It's the most sterile place in the castle, what's wrong with that?" Hermione could practically hear Malfoy's smirk.

"Nothing is wrong as long as Draco is inside me," Pansy sighed happily as the bed shook. Her voice was strangely displaced, as if she were just talking to herself. She squealed in ecstasy. "Anything to feel Draco's cock inside me."

"That's disgusting. I can't take this anymore, I'm getting Madame Pomfrey," Hermione flipped her blanket off and swung her legs over the side of the bed, hoping she could hone in on the door to the medi-witch's office.

"I don't think so Granger. I really can't be disturbed right now," Malfoy responded lazily. "Pansy, hold off for a moment. Pan-Pansy! Stop moving. Geez, woman, Wait for half a second! Petrificus Totalus!"

And Hermione couldn't move. Her rigid body fell across her mattress and she was forced to listen to the rhythm of the squeaking bed. Pansy's mantra of "Fuck me, fuck me, yes, Merlin, Draco, Harder! Harder! Yes, yes, yes!" was the only thing that could be heard above the now incessant creaking. Hermione thanked the heavens when Pansy's climax sounded off the walls and nearly ruptured her eardrums. At least it was finally over.

Hermione Granger had never been so humiliated in her life. She'd just witnessed, well, heard, two people having sex not ten feet from where she lay. It was too disgusting for words. She couldn't understand how people could behave like that. Sex was supposed to be something special shared between two people who love each other. And her body certainly wasn't supposed to react this way to this voyeuristic experience! Hermione certainly hadn't asked for the uncomfortable warmth and tingling centered at the apex of her thighs. And yet there it was, the telltale slickness between her legs. She had been turned on by that ridiculous spectacle! Gross.

She couldn't find relief in sleep no matter how hard she tried. The unfurling desire in her abdomen refused to dissipate. Even after Pansy left for the night, and Malfoy ended the petrification spell, Hermione could not find comfort. All she could do was rub her legs together in frustration to try and abate some of the pressure. And she morally refused to try anything else given where the feelings had originated. No way was she getting out of bed to find Madame Pomfrey and talk about anything that just happened. Thankfully Malfoy didn't say anything because she had no idea what her voice might give away.

Finally, exhaustion overtook the poor girl. But Hermione was unlucky even in the dream world. She was haunted by the events of the evening. The images her mind created were completely unwanted and made Hermione wonder how she was capable of such thoughts. Pansy bouncing away on top of Malfoy was not something anyone should have to see. It was a nightmare. The scene shifted and suddenly she was the one riding away to ecstasy. Again, she there had to be a stronger word for nightmare.

-----

Draco Malfoy hadn't slept so well in a long time. Sex with Pansy hadn't been that exciting in over a year. And he hadn't felt so satisfied in even longer. He racked his brain for some sort of explanation: anything other than what was glaringly obvious.

He was a pervert because he'd enjoyed the fact that someone had been listening.

He was crazy because he liked that it was Hermione Granger who heard.

Did Madame Pomfrey mention something about colds causing brain damage? Surely there was some sort of correlation between his congested sinuses and being turned on by a Mudblood. It just wasn't natural. That was it. Something natural. Find an object to direct his unbidden desire at. A respectable target.

So Malfoy sat in his bed staring at the backs of his eyelids as his mind flipped through the images of the girls he knew both at home and Hogwarts. Hermione Granger continued to make unwanted appearances, but he roughly pushed the idea of her aside. Someone, anyone.

Hannah Abbot!

There. The Hufflepuff was an easy target. She didn't have near the temper of Granger and filled out a sweater a hundred times better. Malfoy focused on the image of her luscious curves and how wonderful her breasts had felt. But as he remembered their tryst he recalled more than just her body, unfortunately. Hannah Abbot was a bit of a non-person. For while she was anything but disagreeable she wasn't exactly agreeable. Hannah Abbot held no strong opinions, rather, she simply followed the course laid out for her. She did and thought was she was told to do and think. Everything Hermione Granger was most definitely not.

Stop thinking about Granger.

Bedding her had been surprisingly easy. Malfoy had expected a degree of naiveté given her angelic appearance. He had a slight kink for pigtails. But apparently she'd done it before. There was no need for seduction or force on his part. She'd taken her jumper and knickers off and let him have at it. And while she was pretty it had been anything but the best screw of his life. She just laid there with a smile. Hannah Abbot was the polar opposite of Pansy who screamed at the top of her lungs whether he was just fingering her or fucking her brains out.

She sure had screamed last night. Maybe it had been the new position. Or maybe she had wanted to put on a good show for Granger.

Crap.

He was back at Granger. And despite himself he wondered what the Mudblood would be like in bed. Was she a Pansy or a Hannah? Who was he kidding, her pussy would probably bite his cock off the second it had the chance.

That thought cooled his libido off in record time.

Malfoy had been resting comfortably when Madame Pomfrey bustled over to him.

"Good Morning, Mr. Malfoy," she said cheerily. "Time to take those bandages off!" Her skills hands made quick work of the wrappings around his eyes. "Go ahead and open your eyes, child," she said sharply. "Let me have a look." She pried his left eye apart with skilled fingers. After his eyes adjusted to the stinging bright light of the infirmary, the medi-witch's figure came into focus. "Good as new, it appears," she reported after having a quick look at his other eye.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she nodded. "Off to the Great Hall with you."

"Well, actually, I'm not all that hungry," Malfoy explained. "I'll just rest up a bit more I think."

"No skipping classes."

"Of course not," Malfoy shook his head. The lies rolled off his tongue with ease. As soon as the nurse left for breakfast he would be off to the Room of Requirement. Malfoy had far more important issues that anything a class could provide.

"Very well," Madame Pomfrey said coolly. "Have a lovely day, Mr. Malfoy." He reclined back onto his pillow and waited patiently for her to leave. As the door closed behind her Malfoy swung his legs over the side of the bed. The curtains ahead of him were pulled back roughly on there steel pole to reveal a very angry looking Hermione Granger.

"Granger!" Malfoy's eyes widened. He hadn't counted on running into her. Apparently she'd been laying in wait for him behind the curtain, ready to strike. "You look like crap Granger." And she did. The swelling of the black eyes she sported courtesy of Malfoy hadn't quite disappeared. Her eyes were ringed in a sick purple that gave her an odd raccoon-like appearance. But, despite the sorry appearance of her face, she was definitely not a woman to be messed with. Her stance was strong: feet shoulder-width apart, white knuckles gripping the curtain, and hair like a medusa.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Granger demanded as she marched towards him, index finger nearly touching his nose when she came to a stop. "Why did you do that? I didn't think even you could sink so low."

"Whatever do you mean?" he blinked his pale blonde eyelashes. Granger's eyes were bloodshot, too. She looked like a crazy person. This was fun.

"You're sick," she growled.

"That's the way Pansy likes it," Malfoy couldn't help but smile widely.

"I'm all too familiar with what Pansy likes," Granger's right eye twitched quite a few times during the sentence.

"What exactly is the problem, Mudblood?" Malfoy cocked his head to the side. He had never seen Hermione Granger so frazzled before. It was rather exhilarating to know he had this effect on her. Smarty pants Granger was such a prude!

"You know exactly what my problem is Malfoy!"

"I think I do," he winked and shoved his hand between her legs and up her skirt. Granger's eyes widened in disbelief as fingers met underwear. She squeaked and quickly tried to jump out of his grasp. But Malfoy pressed upwards as he rubbed incessantly, effectively blocking her escape for a blessed moment. The sight of Granger bucking against his hand was more of an incredible sight then he would have ever guessed. And it was over all too soon.

She slipped out of Malfoy's grip. And after a deep, shaky intake of breath and giving him a hardy slap across the face, Hermione Granger made her exit.