Chapter Three: An Annoying Bit of Laryngitis

Hermione had tried several times, in the name of education of course, to bring herself to orgasm. She'd followed all the rules that she had skimmed from health books both here and in the Muggle world. If one was going to conduct an experiment, after all, knowing the material was key. But all of her attempts combined hadn't had a fraction of the effect Malfoy's fingers had in just two seconds.

Her shaking legs could barely carry her weight as she stumbled out of the infirmary. She had to get as far away from Malfoy as possible. This was not right. The world had been turned upside down. How could Draco Malfoy of all people have this effect on her?

She found herself outside of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and entered it without a second thought. Running into someone on their way to class was not something she wanted to deal with at the moment. And the ghost was nowhere to be seen. Perfect. Hermione had some business that needed to be taken care of before she could plot her revenge.

Careful to avoid Myrtle's personal stall, Hermione entered one and locked herself in. With a look of pure determination she pulled down her underwear and had a seat. She spread her legs wide and inhaled deeply as the cool air hit the pool of heat between her legs. Gingerly she touched her inner folds with an index finger, reveling in the feeling of the liquid coating her. The human body really was an amazing thing.

No science right now, she reminded herself. Now, what had the books said?

With two fingers she stroked herself, up and down. Small shudders of pleasure swirled around and spread through her body. And despite herself, Hermione replayed the image of Malfoy with his hand up her skirt. It was awful how erotic that was to her. She circled her clit and tried her best to think of something other than the damn Slytherin.

Ron. Ron should be the one she fantasized about. He was the one she loved despite how huge of a moron he happened to be. How dare she think of Malfoy when Ron would be the one who penetrated her with his fingers like she was doing right now. Hermione did her best to see his red head nestled between her legs pumping two fingers in and out of her.

Hermione tried to find a rhythm, but it just couldn't be done. Her fingers were coated in her own juices but Hermione felt nothing beyond a dull pleasant feeling. Rubbing around her clit helped ease the ache in her center, but harder contact just sent useless sharp bolts of through her body. Nothing changed. What had Malfoy done? What was the secret to this? Hermione was starting to get very angry at her useless attempts.

"So someone finally decides to visit me," Myrtle's head appeared through the stall door. The look of scorn on the ghost's face was quickly replaced with a look of scandalized delight. "What are you doing!" she gasped. Hermione froze in terror as she met the ghost's wide open eyes. Hermione could hardly believe what was happening. But there she sat on the toilet, knickers at her ankles, skirt up around her waist, hunched over with both hands working diligently on her naughty bits. What had she been thinking?

"Nothing!" Hermione's hands flew to the toilet paper and rolled off a considerably large section to clean her fingers and wipe her privates down. "I had to use the facilities, is that a crime?"

"People don't normally gasp and groan when their using the loo, unless their having intestinal trouble," Myrtle pulled herself all the way through the door and regarded Hermione doubtfully. "And it didn't sound, or look, like you were having intestinal trouble."

"Mind your own business Myrtle," Hermione snapped and walked through the spirit.

"I'm only trying to make conversation. No one ever wants to talk to me," Myrtle whimpered. "No one except for him. He likes to talk to me. He tells me things he doesn't tell anyone else. You won't even admit to something I caught you doing!" But Hermione was already blocking out the ghost's usual tirade and left the bathroom.

"Hermione!" Ron and Harry greeted her cheerfully at their first class of the day.

"Why weren't you at breakfast?" Ron asked.

"I slept in!" Hermione barked at the red-haired boy, angry at him for reasons beyond just the question. "Can't a girl sleep in!"

"Easy, Hermione," Harry tried to take the heat off of his clueless pal. "We just worried because we didn't see you last night either."

Hermione highly doubted Ron had taken time away from depriving Lavender of oxygen to have noticed. Her eye twitched at the image of him nuzzling the ridiculous girl. She was sick of that image.

"I stayed late at the library," Hermione reported through clenched teeth. She was very aroused and angry, and definitely not in the mood to answer questions from friends who had been ignoring her existence for quite some time.

----

It was called "Make Granger Twitch." It just happened to be one of the best games ever created. Ever since the encounter in the infirmary Mudblood Granger had developed a hilarious little tick. She would twitch if he pushed her buttons in the slightest way. It was the most fun he'd had in a long time. And he'd been the one to invent it. He was very proud.

Unfortunately there weren't many opportunities to play the fantastic new game. He was busy with things in the Room of Requirement half the day and she was with one or both of the Wonder Twins the majority of the day. So, he had to take advantage of the time she was alone during Arithmancy (the scintillating subject that it is) or when she was in the library.

"Good Morning, Granger," he nodded to her amicably as they entered the classroom together. He always timed it perfectly.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged him and swiftly took her seat at the front of the classroom.

"Did you finish the homework?" he asked and slid into the desk beside her.

"Yes," she responded and pulled more books out of her backpack than was physically possible.

"No problems?"

"No," she then pulled several rolls of parchment out that were amazingly not bent at all.

"No you didn't have trouble, or no you did?" he cocked his head to the side.

Granger took a deep breath, and answered smoothly, "I didn't have any trouble Malfoy. But I'm sorry, I don't have time to tutor you."

"Oh, I don't need tutoring in Arithmancy, Granger," Malfoy sneered. "But maybe you need some tutoring in other areas."

"I would never come to you for tutoring, Malfoy," the bushy-haired witch spun in her seat to snap in his face. Excellent.

"I think you would come for me, Granger," he drawled. Wait for it.

Granger turned quickly to the front of the room, but not before he saw her right eye give a definite twitch.

"Class, please copy down the algorithms on the board," Professor Vector interrupted any further attacks on the Gryffindor's mental state.

-----

Hermione Granger was not a stupid girl, she knew exactly what Malfoy was up to. He was playing mind games, and it was really quite obnoxious. The tick had become quite embarrassing, thus forcing her to go to Madame Pomfrey. Apparently she was "putting herself under too much stress and should not worry so much about schoolwork" or some rubbish like that. The nurse had assigned some relaxation exercises that Hermione dubbed as ridiculous hippie placebos, but tried anyway. Amazingly enough, they had been surprisingly effective. Apparently, Hermione was far more skilled at calming herself than stimulating. Just in case, she had developed an alternate plan if Malfoy didn't learn to keep his mouth shut.

Matters on the Ron front had gone steadily downhill. Now, in addition to Harry's lack of understanding Lavender was out-rightly rude to her whenever she was in the same room as Ron. It was easier to focus on defeating Malfoy's games and simply not think about how oblivious Ron was to her feelings and silly, catty girls.

"Granger," Malfoy greeted her as he sat at the desk behind her. She had thought for once she was safe from his harassment as he was nearly late for class and all the seats around her were taken. He'd, however, simply grabbed the Ravenclaw sitting behind her by the collar and told him to sod off. The Ravenclaw agreed to the terms, and found a seat elsewhere.

"That was rude," she said over her shoulder.

"So?"

"I thought being a pureblood meant you would possess better manners."

"Being a pureblood means I don't have to."

"Obviously."

"I've got it where it counts."

"The double entendres are getting a little old Malfoy," Hermione responded smoothly, thankful for the lack of eye twitching. "You should get some new material."

"I would think you'd enjoy the attention," Malfoy retorted with equal ease. "Weasel Boy seems to have found more willing company in Brown and everyone knows Potter's gone off the deep end."

"I would never want attention from a twisted, evil ferret like you," she shot him one last glare before turning to the front of the room. Thankfully Professor Vector had started passing out charts and diagrams.

-----

By the time class ended, Draco Malfoy had decided on a course of action. He shoved his parchment into his bag and quickly followed the witch as she tried to escape from the classroom.

"Off to the library, Granger?" he asked congenially as they sped down the hallway. The crowd thinned out along the way. Kids filtered off to return to their dorms or sped along to their next class. No one headed for the library, it being the middle of the day and no one being as manic as Granger.

"You're a quick study Malfoy," she replied and tried to pick up the pace. A backpack full of giant, ancient texts and short legs, however, kept her momentum to a minimum.

"I am a Slytherin," he shrugged. "So my brain cells pack a bit more punch than the pudding you Gryffindors possess." Malfoy was forced to jog for a bit to keep up. She sure could move.

"Hey, you managed to get your mind out of the gutter for half a second," she sniggered. "Congratulations."

"I figured you'd enjoy it," he smiled. "What, after the Peeping Tom act you pulled the other day." That got her to stop. She spun to face him, that crazy look in her eyes again.

"I was petrified, you horrible prat!" she shrieked, her words echoed down the empty corridors. Malfoy smirked and stepped towards the Gryffindor.

"Doesn't mean you didn't enjoy it," and then added with a whisper. "Among other things."

"Does mental illness run in your family, Malfoy?" Granger sneered and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I was never so disgusted in my entire life."

"That's not what a little bird told me," he tapped his chin thoughtfully, and tried really very hard not to break into an enormous smile. He took another step forward and looked right into her eyes. "And by bird, of course, I mean ghost."

He had never actually seen the color drain from a person before. Sure, he had seen quite a few scared people given that his father was a Death Eater and all, but they were already usually quite pasty when they turned up anyway. Working for the Dark Lord was not exactly a walk in a field of daisies.

Granger's face went from crimson with anger to sheet white in about half a second.

It was fantastic.

-----

Hermione swore her heart had leapt into her throat and was attempting to choke her. She couldn't breath, blood was pounding in her ears, her hands had gone clammy.

Moaning Myrtle had told.

She'd told Malfoy.

Malfoy!

CRAP!

And the ability to form words had escaped. All she could do was stand there like a fool, frozen to the spot. Her eyes locked open in shock, backpack straps digging into her shoulders, and Malfoy staring hard at her.

The flight or fight response that had been buried away finally managed to peek over the blockage of alarm that filled her system. Her head slowly began to shake back and forth as she backed away from the tall blonde boy.

But he followed. Each step she took back, he matched. She couldn't put any distance between herself and the Slytherin, and then she hit the wall. The hallway was empty and dead silent as Malfoy stepped up and lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Had to take care of it yourself, Granger?" he whispered. "Couldn't even get one of those Gryffindor lap dogs to give you a hand?" He punctuated his final word with a quick lick of her earlobe and a brush of his thumb over a nipple.

The contact finally broke Hermione out of her frozen state. She blinked hard and shoved Malfoy away from her. He laughed sharply as he took a few steps back. Hermione let her backpack slide to the floor and she pulled her wand out of her robes.

"Don't touch me," she said steadily, wand pointed straight at him and wiping her ear with her free hand. Where had that come from?

"Merlin, Granger, you're practically gagging for it," he laughed again.

Hermione's arm shook with anger as she watched Malfoy mock her. "Nullus Vox!" She shouted viciously as red steaks flew from the end of her wand. They flashed across the divide between her and Malfoy and wrapped tightly around his throat before vanishing.

He opened his mouth to respond and, to Hermione's undying glee, no noise came from it. His hand clasped his throat as his lips moved in a vain attempt to form words. He looked up at Hermione, cold eyes bore into her. She didn't need to hear what he had to say to know how he felt about the situation.

He wasn't exactly thrilled.

As Malfoy closed in, certain curse words forming on his lips but never making a sound, but she found herself in the unfortunate situation of not being able to move her feet. Again. She was moving in slow motion, turning to run, as everything around her sped up. Suddenly her wand was lying useless on the ground and Malfoy had pushed her up against the wall and stones were digging into her back. His fingers dug into her upper arms as he glared at her through the fringe of pale hair.

"Let me go," she demanded in low, cold tones. She saw the muscles in his jaw clench angrily as he just continued to stare down at her. "Now."

-----

It had all gone down hill really fast. He had just wanted to mess with her a bit before going to work. It hadn't even been all that malicious. Friendly schoolyard teasing, that's all. Friendly, of course, included a bit of groping which was all fine and dandy. But it was the look on her face after he announced what Myrtle had told him that was priceless. Granger loosing her composure was like a deer tripping during a hunt. He just had to move it quickly. It had been a brilliant time before she pulled out that damn wand.

Someone seriously needed to remove the pole from her ass.

And now he had snooty Hermione Granger up against the wall with no idea what he was going to do next. He hated that she had gotten the better of him. He didn't need to give Potter more reasons to tail him. The scene on the Hogwarts Express had been a bad idea, the power and excitement had gone to his head. But he couldn't just let her go. She'd attacked him and now there she stood with that all-too-Granger look on her face. Thinking she was smarter and quicker and stronger than him. Not giving him the pleasure of fighting against his hold, just expecting him to give in. But he wasn't the one that had run off to the bathroom to wank off after he'd had his hand up her skirt.

He'd gone to the Room of Requirement.

But that was beside the point.

She was the one who needed it. Weasel was too preoccupied with trying to figure out the clasp of Brown's bra to give her a second look. Potter was Potter and therefore had no sex because if Malfoy even thought about that idea he might actually be sick. Vomiting in the school hallway was most undignified and more than a bit disgusting.

Who else would touch her?

As it turned out, touching the Mudblood wasn't all that bad. He kind of enjoyed the feeling of her breasts rising and falling against his chest with the deep breaths she was taking. Not only did it give away the fear in her heart, but what teenage boy doesn't enjoy a nice pair of breasts. Granted, hers weren't spectacular, but there were still there.

"Malfoy," she said in a decisively warning tone, brown eyes hard as they looked up at him. He didn't like that at all. How dare she speak to him with any sort of tone. Who did she think she was? Someone needed to put her in her place, and who better than a Malfoy? He lowered his mouth to the side of her face again and felt her entire body stiffen against him. A smile played at the edge of his lips as he breathed into the Gryffindor's ear. There were so many things he was just dying to say at this moment.

"Stop," her voice demanded. "This isn't funny." His tongue flicked along the shell of her ear and Granger sucked in a shaky intake of air.

The Mudblood wasn't nearly as strong as she thought she was.

That's when she started to struggle, pushing his chest with the palms of her hands. She had good leverage, but he had the weight to keep her pinned. And as his hands skimmed down her sides to clutch her hips, Malfoy decided this was a fantastic idea. His mouth clamped onto her neck as he sucked and nipped his way back up to her ear. It really was a win-win situation. He'd get to feel up Granger's not-to-decidedly-horrible body, confuse the living daylights out of her, and royally piss off the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Nuisance and Freckles. Plus, he would be the guy who scored with goody-two-shoes Granger. He'd be a sex god. Screw the consequences.

Or screw Granger.

Whichever.

"Malfoy, what are you doing!" she sounded far more confused than scared. Part of him would have appreciated a little fear. But, he had no intention of hurting her. He wasn't about to force himself on her. Women were supposed to fight for the chance at a tumble between the sheets with a Malfoy. Hurting her, as tempting as it was, would lead to too many questions. Better to make her enjoy it, and then regret it horribly later.

But here was Granger, doing her best to put her shoulder in the way of his questing mouth. Then he found the spot he was looking for. That magical little place where neck met shoulder. The sweater and collared shirt made it a little awkward, but he reached it. Granger's clutching of his shoulders was enough to let him know that.

With that bit of incentive his hands crawled up under her jumper. While her breasts weren't much to look at, they were fantastic to hold. The cloth encased orbs prompted a strong reaction in his pants. But she wasn't relaxing, her hands had left his shoulders and were pulling at his wrists, trying to extract them from her sweater. That wouldn't do.

"I'll tell Harry," she warned. Of course she had to go and mention Potter. Way to kill the mood. His fingers found her nipples and gave a quick squeeze.

"Ow!" Granger smacked him across the face. Unpleasant memories of third year flashed through his mind and he rose to glare at her. She looked pissed as all hell and flushed to the tips of her ears. "Let me go, immediately," she growled through clenched teeth. Merlin, if she wasn't going to cooperate, this wasn't going to be any fun. He slowly slid his hands out of her jumper, gloomily retreating, and regarded her with a sneer.

"Don't touch me again, Malfoy," she warned as she stepped away from him and towards her wand. He watched her watching him as she crouched down to reach her wand. Her fingers closed around the smooth wood and a wave of comfort seemed to roll over her. Wand in hand, she regarded him with a hard gaze. "Cross me again and I can do worse than taking your voice."

Something inside him seemed to snap. There was that superior behavior again. A false sense of security made Granger slow, and vengeance made Malfoy fast. He grabbed the wrist of her wand hand and had her pinned back up against the wall.

-----

Strange things were happening in the abandoned corridor on the way to the library. First, Hermione was alone with Draco Malfoy, not something that usually happened. Second, Malfoy's hand was stroking her most private girly parts through her skirt, something that never happened. Third, she was enjoying it, something that should never be allowed to happen.

And he wasn't talking, which until that moment had seemed a universal impossibility.

"What did I just say?" Hermione pushed hard against Malfoy's shoulder with her left hand. But it really wasn't going that well. He was sucking on her neck, something she had thought looked amazingly disgusting when enacted by Ron and Lavender. But here, not so bad. Plus his hand was doing strange and magical things simply by stroking the junction of her thighs. She really should have been doing a better job of fighting him. The problem was she really didn't want him to stop what he was doing. But it was so wrong. It was dirty and gross.

It was Malfoy.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Hermione asked incredulously. It's not everyday your mortal enemy has you pinned against a wall making you more aroused than you've been in your entire life. He had to have an alterior motive. Harry was always ranting about Malfoy being up to something. She just had to figure how getting into her pants played a part in it.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and cleared his throat as he poked at the crevice between her legs, indicating everything was pretty straight forward. She kept her legs clamped shut, but felt a bizarre desire to laugh. Why wasn't she more disgusted? Why wasn't she more scared? But she just wasn't scared of Malfoy.

Malfoy was like a Chihuahua. Loud and annoying, but pretty much harmless. Sure, he caused all sorts of trouble. But it was the sort of trouble you have with a little dog. He liked to bite at their heels, but there wasn't anything to fear from it. He could bare his teeth all he wanted, but Hermione was comfortable with the fact that she was smarter than him, always had been, always would be. And she was stronger. Magically, not physically of course. Working with the D.A. had taught her everything she needed to know to get out of this situation.

The problem was she didn't want out of the situation.

She didn't want him to stop.

"I just find it strange," Hermione continued quickly when she felt Malfoy start to lift her skirt up. "You being Malfoy, my arch nemesis and all." She stopped her nervous rambling when Malfoy rested his forehead on the wall and gave an irritated sigh.

"I suppose it's not something I should think too much about," she added sheepishly. Malfoy simply shook his head. And there was nothing spiteful to it, which was strange.

"But why?" she couldn't help but ask, becoming more and more distracted as his fingertips trailed up her naked thigh. Malfoy's smile took on a dark, menacing aspect as he caught her eyes with his and pressed his arousal against her hip.

"Oh," Hermione looked away as a blush crept up her face. Things had taken a very bizarre turn. Never in her wildest dreams had anything like this come up. She had figured Malfoy's teasing had been just that. But he was obviously interested in the situation they were in. With her, a Mudblood. Merlin, he was probably some crazed sex fiend. Hermione's head snapped up at the thought.

Sex? Hell no. Her hand flew downward and cut Malfoy off at the pass. He looked bitterly disappointed, like a child whose toy had been taken away.

"I'm not sleeping with you, Malfoy," she looked at him with narrowed eyes. "If you think that this," she motioned towards the general vicinity of her crotch and his hand. "will get you some action, you are sorely mistaken. And no blow jobs. My name isn't Pansy Parkinson." An even more downtrodden look crossed his face, but Malfoy nodded. Then he raised his eyebrows, silently asking for permission. She felt her cheeks turn pink.

"Proceed then."

-----

Proceed? Leave it to Hermione Granger to turn everything into a twisted scientific process. Nevertheless, Malfoy continued on his merry way. Not that he knew what exactly he was doing. Well, he knew about the physical aspect (enough with the science terminology), it was the subject (Merlin, now he was doing it) that was the problem.

What exactly was he doing with his hand up Mudblood Gryffindor Hermione Granger's skirt?

For the second time?

If only his father could see him now.

Not that anything in the world could stop him now. If he had thought the scene in the infirmary was erotic, this was Order of Merlin-type erotic. His fingers trailed lightly over the thin fabric of the girl's underwear. They were slightly damp, but soft, cotton probably. He had no idea about the color. He couldn't take his eyes off Hermione Granger's face.

She'd hooked a leg around his calf, granting him easier access, and making it even more difficult to fight the building desire to grind into exactly the spot he wanted to be. Her small little fists clenched his Slytherin sweater as she stared back at him. A bizarre blend of determinacy, confusion, and annoyance filled her eyes.

It was perfectly Granger.

The situation in his pants was really becoming unbearable.

He stared into her big, brown eyes, fascinated by every nuance of emotion that flicked across them as he pushed aside the cover of cotton. The slight hint of arousal she finally let creep into her countenance was fantastic. He breathed in the air she exhaled in a little 'oh' as his fingers played in her curls. Fingers slipped through her slick folds until they reached her center. Working them in and out, he watched her lips trembled as she panted. He reveled in the rise of her chest and the sheen of sweat that coated her skin. A smile spread across his features as their eyes locked and hers were glazed over in desire with and a tinge of resentment. Knowing that he had broken down her walls and elicited this reaction gave him an odd feeling of accomplishment.

Being with Pansy had been so easy; it was like running a marathon with this one. But he wasn't about to let her lack of sex drive win. At least she had one. He was committed beating this test. Finding that one little bundle of nerves was the key. She didn't fall apart at his hands, but her hips did buck against his palm. After that she started to meet him stroke for stroke, happy little squeaks accompanying each little movement.

At some point, Malfoy realized he was dry humping the girl's hip, like a mutt, in time with the thrusts of his fingers. No matter how shameful the motion was, he couldn't bring himself to stop. He ground his crotch into her as he cursed awful things into her ear, disgusting things that only came out as deep, angry pants against her neck. And he hoped she couldn't feel or didn't think too much about the warm spot he sported on his trousers after an embarrassingly short amount of time.

She didn't come with a shriek, shout, or yodel, as Pansy often did. Rather, it was a slow, perfect buildup of pants and gentle breaths into a soft, mewling cry. Her leg pulled him closer as her eyes closed and head fell back against the stone. It was incredible.

He had to be going crazy.

-----

Hermione thanked the heavens that Malfoy couldn't talk. She really had no desire to hear whatever snide comment he was probably bristling to say. But he just turned silently, which was a given, to leave breaking the eye contact that had bored into her for so long. He'd won; she'd given in. How could she face Harry and Ron, now? How could she face herself?

What had she been thinking!

Granted, it was the lack of thinking that had been the problem. Hermione was not one to be driven by her hormones. She didn't even usually feel anything in that region, nor did she particularly care too. Girls were too stupid about things like that. But apparently she was more than willing to succumb to her primal desires. She'd had her first orgasm… at the hands of Draco Malfoy.

It could have been anyone else. Anyone else. And it would have been better than this. Why Malfoy? Had it been the inherent wrongness of the situation that had gotten her? Did she like the danger, the fear? Was she really that twisted? Weren't you supposed to love someone for them to have that effect on you? Was she a depraved sex-fiend deep down?

It hadn't been this way with Viktor. They'd engaged in more than a few heavy petting sessions, but she had never felt this way before. Viktor had treated her like a goddess, worshipped the ground she walked on, and never did anything she didn't want to do. No coercion, no pressure, he just wanted to please her. She'd cared for him dearly, adored his kisses and admiration. She felt so beautiful and desirable when she was with him. The problem was she just never wanted him. Hermione had foolishly thought that taking the final plunge would strengthen the relationship. Maybe it would spark the love she knew she was supposed to have for such a wonderful person.

That had been an unmitigated disaster.

Just because Viktor wasn't a virgin didn't mean he had any more of a clue as to what to do. His first time had been a result of a drunken hook-up after a Quidditch win, not exactly memorable or helpful. Their attempt had been doomed from the start. Oh, the wonders of teenage love making. First there was the difficulty and embarrassment of undressing, add in some sloppy foreplay and the inherent discomfort of a first time: you have yourself a recipe for all kinds of awkward.

Viktor having more than enough trouble finding his way in didn't help the atmosphere either. She'd been too dry, he'd been too ashamed. The only pleasure she'd felt was in knowing that Viktor had gotten off eventually. She smiled and comforted him, but her words fell on deaf ears. She woke up the next morning sore and unfulfilled. And she knew that being with Viktor was no longer an option. Pretending there was something there made her feel guilty and mean. That and her unhealthy attachment to Ron and his stupidity forced her to end the relationship.

She'd waited a few days, to minimize the stripping of his masculinity the break-up would cause.

It still hadn't gone over well.

Being with Malfoy had been so decidedly different. What really bothered Hermione the most was that he never kissed her. He'd touched her in the most private areas, fucked her with his fingers, came against her thigh, but hadn't once touched her lips. Hadn't even come close. She'd been an object, never a person. That had been made unmistakably clear. It had been one of the most intimate experiences of her life and left her achingly empty and dirty.

She'd never felt anything like it. His hand in her crotch, teasing and pumping, had been heaven. She'd done her best to keep the noise to a minimum, not wanting to disgust him. But she still feared the pants and grunts that escaped her lips had made her seem pathetic and filthy. The orgasm was beyond words. She'd never even dreamed something could feel like that, sending currents of pleasure and contentment all the way to her fingertips. And she knew there could be more. As she watched Malfoy quickly exit the hallway she felt her nether regions quake.

Hermione hadn't signed up for this. She knew in the back of her mind this had all started as a ploy to make Ron jealous. Not that she'd ever tell him. But she would always know. It would be a secret she could carry around and hold over him. If he could get Lavender, she could get someone too. She didn't need Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger could find anyone else, even Malfoy.

The trouble was, she wanted to do it again. She wanted to do more. She hating being the stereotypical girl that fell for the bad boy. Hermione was smarter than that.

But, Merlin help her, she wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy.