(A/N: Okay folks, in this chapter the story begins to really earn all the copious warnings I put at the beginning. This is where things get dark and dirty. There is non-consensual sexual content, coupled with what can only be described as psychological torture. Read at your own risk! This chapter earns a rating of HARD R. Believe it or not, I did actually have to edit it down some to make it, I think, borderline acceptable for this site. There will be one more chapter after this, just FYI; this will be a three-chapter fic in all.)

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He was staring at her.

Again.

It was the day before the Yule Ball.

On the day after the Yule Ball he was leaving Hogwarts- going home for the holidays and taking Pansy with him. It was a luxury most students didn't have, leaving after the holidays had begun- The Hogwarts Express had departed a week ago, carrying primarily the younger students who weren't eligible to attend the ball and for the most part, any students who had not boarded it would remain at the school until the next term began. Draco, however, was not "most students". His father was sending private transportation for him and his girlfriend, as this was a major milestone; the first time he was bringing Pansy home to formally meet and spend time with his parents, as his intended. She'd met them many times in the past, of course- the two families moved in the same relatively small and very exclusive social circles- but this would be her first time interacting with them in the context of probable future daughter-in-law.

What this all boiled down to, for Draco, though, at the moment was this; he wanted Granger again. He wanted more than a kiss. And he wanted it tonight. If he didn't make his move tonight he'd lose his chance for weeks- and that, he was positive, would bloody well drive him to distraction. She'd been on his mind more or less every minute since their last encounter.

He had heard, later on the day of the Hogsmeade kiss, that Granger had collapsed on the way back to school- that walking up the hill toward Hogwarts between Potter and Weasley, with Weasley's arm wrapped snugly around her waist, her knees had simply and without warning buckled out from under her. Weasley had caught her before she'd hit the ground, reported Millicent Bulstrode, who'd apparently witnessed the whole thing, and had sprinted the rest of the way to the castle with her clasped to his chest, Potter and the Weaselette at his heels, shouting for help even before they'd made it through the front doors. Millicent had been slightly starry-eyed throughout her retelling, as if impressed by this Gryffindor spectacle- and no wonder, Draco thought, disgusted- living vicariously through Granger in this situation was the closest Bulstrode would ever come to having a man show that sort of concern for her; beastly thing that she was.

He hadn't seen Granger for over three days after that- word had it she'd been in the hospital wing, having caught one hell of a wicked cold in the village. He'd lived in fear those first few days that she would renege on her promise not to tell… but as time had passed and nothing more had come of it, he'd breathed easy once again. Apparently she was as good as her word.

Typical Gryffindor. Ha.

By the time she'd gotten out of the infirmary, the holidays had begun in earnest… so Draco was no longer able to watch her for much of the day during classes. Which was quite annoying, frankly. He was reduced to watching her surreptitiously at mealtimes, as he was doing right now… except for the odd occasion when he managed to catch a glimpse of her in the castle or on the grounds with her friends. She'd never glanced his way once, but he could hardly fail to notice that she never seemed to walk alone anymore either… and her wand was always close at hand.

He had finally figured out a way to both get her alone and catch her off-guard, though… and had set his plan in motion earlier today. It had come to him in a flash of inspiration at lunch, when he'd bitten into something that had been lukewarm at best, had spat it out in disgust and been just on the verge of launching into a tirade on the subject of damned incompetent house elves… when it had hit him. House elves. He knew along with everyone else in the school that they were Granger's pet project and had been for years… house elves were the key to getting at her.

Directly after lunch he had visited the kitchens. There were any number of the bowing, scraping little creatures that would have been pathetically glad to do his bidding- and one that had looked vaguely familiar to him, that had disappeared with a squeak and a pop the second it laid eyes on him. It was a particular elf that Draco was after, however- he had heard many times from different people about Granger's near obsession with one little female who'd apparently been disgraced into wearing clothes… Granger had been trying for years to convince it that it was better off this way; a relentless, misguided campaign that had left the creature more or less permanently traumatized; a nervous wreck. This was the elf that Draco wanted to see.

He had found her in the furthest corner of the kitchen, being given a wide berth by the other elves, who'd been treating her as though she had some horrible and possibly contagious disease. She'd been sitting on the floor and rocking gently back and forth, staring unnervingly into the middle distance with glazed, slightly wild eyes, and hiccupping occasionally. Empty, overturned bottles of Butterbeer littered the floor around her.

Draco had hunkered down in front of her; snapped his fingers impatiently inches from her face. He'd wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible- there were few places he'd less rather be than in the overheated, cabbage-smelling school kitchens, associating with a filthy, inebriated house elf. Just imagine if anyone he knew could see him now. Still, if it achieved his goal, he would count it more than worthwhile in the end.

"Elf," he'd barked at her. Slowly, her enormous, bulging, half-mad eyes had focused on him.

She'd been as pathetically anxious to please as he'd hoped she would be… once he'd promised her that no, Hermione Granger absolutely, positively, would not be coming to see her as a result of the favor she did him.

XXX

And now Draco was watching Hermione at the Gryffindor dining table, to see whether or not his plan had come to fruition.

The thing that Draco had been waiting for came with the dessert course. As the main course vanished and the trays of pastries appeared, Draco saw, squinting across the hall, that a piece of folded over parchment had just materialized directly in front of Hermione- where her dinner plate had been mere seconds before.

Potter and Weasley were deep in conversation with one another, Draco noticed, and never even saw her pick up the letter, unfold it, scan it, then refold it and slip it into a pocket of her robes. She said nothing to anyone about it, but Draco, watching, could tell that she was quite suddenly brimming with enthusiastic energy and the will to be gone. And no wonder… she had a mission now. Or at least, he thought, smirking, she thought she did.

He stood abruptly and slipped out of the Great Hall himself, confident that she would be only moments behind him. He'd watched the house elf, Weenie or Wanker or something like that, scribble drunkenly on the parchment he'd brought with him to the kitchen, so he knew exactly what was written on Granger's note. That the elf had been doing some serious thinking about everything "Miss Hermione is telling her" over the years- that she was ready to talk to Miss Hermione about it in person- but only if Miss Hermione is coming to see her right after dinner, and alone.

Now all Draco had to do was ambush her on her way to the kitchen.

Things couldn't have gone more perfectly.

He heard the quick, somehow prim little click click of her shoes on the flagstone floor less than three minutes after he'd concealed himself in a narrow, dimly lit side corridor; she was alone as the elf's note had requested she be, and as dessert was still fully underway up in the dining hall, there were no other stray students about either.

He grinned. It was… once again… almost too easy. Someone up there was looking out for him… or else really had it in for Granger.

He waited until she'd passed him by before he swung out into the main corridor and thrust his wand hard into the small of her back.

"Imperio," he whispered, before she had time to do anything more than stiffen- and then, noticing that, as usual as of late, her own wand was in her hand, added, "lower your wand now, Granger, that's a good girl."

She did so, moving jerkily, once again fighting the curse with everything she could muster. Good- let her get it out of her system now, early on. That would make things all the better, later. Merlin, how he wanted to take her right now… but that wouldn't do. She'd almost certainly told her friends where she was going, and they'd start out to look for her if she didn't rejoin them relatively soon. This little rendezvous was for instructions only- so he'd better cut right to the chase.

He dragged her several feet into the smaller, darker, and less-used corridor, then caught her chin and pulled her around to face him. "You will do everything I tell you to, mudblood, exactly as I tell you to do it. Do you understand?"

"Yes." There were no tears in her eyes this time… there was murder. If looks could kill, he'd have been a bloody mess spattered all over the floor. This girl had some grit; he found himself grinning again.

"And you will follow my instructions?"

She bit down hard on her lip and squeezed her eyes closed, obviously concentrating, waging a valiant struggle to not give him the answer he wanted to hear.

"Nnnh…" she said, shaking her head in a gesture of negation, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Draco frowned impatiently. He enjoyed watching her struggle, but there just wasn't time. He brought more of his own willpower to bear, focusing the curse into something which had to be hurting her. This was the most intense he'd ever had to make it… and he'd used it on full-grown men in the course of his "training". Truthfully, he was blown away by the depth of her resistance. This was mental war.

"Answer me, mudblood. Will you follow my instructions?"

A deep shudder wracked her body- her hands opened and closed spasmodically- she dropped her wand. Then she opened her eyes.

What he saw in them now was a desperate unhappiness, and capitulation, and defeat.

"Yes," she whispered, in a barely audible voice.

Draco allowed himself a satisfied smirk, more relieved than he cared to admit. It had been touch and go for a few seconds there.

"Good," he said. "Pick up your wand and put it away. You will find your friends and return to your common room. You will act as if nothing is amiss. You will speak as little as you possibly can without arousing suspicion, and will retire to your dorm early. Once your dorm-mates are asleep and your common room is empty you will go to the prefects' bathroom, and if I am not already there, you will draw yourself a bath and wait for me. Inside the bathtub. Is all of that perfectly clear?"

"Yes." Her voice was stronger now, but it was dull. Lifeless.

"And you will do all of it?"

"I will do all of it."

"All right then. I'll see you again soon, Granger. You may go."

He let her get a few steps away before calling her back. "Oh… Hermione?" It was the first time he'd used her given name. He said it gently- almost lovingly… but his tone had a sinister quality to it all the same. She stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Yes?"

He walked up behind her and took her in his arms- one hand snaking into the hair at her temple, fisting in it and tugging- gently but implacably- until she was forced to let her head fall backward, against his shoulder. His other hand roamed around to the front of her body, slipping beneath the fabric of her turtleneck as it did so, playing over her stomach- it was taut, the muscles trembling- and then up to her breasts, first one and then the other, teasing at her nipples through the silky fabric of her bra. He pushed his body forward into hers, allowing her to feel his erection pressed hard into the small of her back. Her eyes were scrunched closed as tight as she could make them, her breath shallow, rapid, erratic.

"What are you thinking right now, mudblood?" he whispered into her ear.

When she answered, it was through clenched teeth. "That I want to wake up from this nightmare."

"You know I'm going to fuck you tonight."

She swallowed hard. "I know."

"Still you'll come."

"I'll come."

"Why didn't you tell anyone about our kiss?"

"I swore. I swore on Ron's life."

He chuckled. "And you really believed I'd kill him if you told?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," she whispered.

"That's wise of you, Granger. Very wise. You are a smart girl, aren't you? And you would do anything- give anything- to protect him?"

"You know I would."

"Yes, I do believe that. I think you'd come of your own volition, even if I were to lift the curse right now… you'd come to protect your pathetic boyfriend, and for another reason, too… because the truth is, Hermione, that you're a dirty little mudblood and deep, deep down, you actually want this. Your body is betraying you, Granger." He tweaked one of her nipples, hard, eliciting a shuddering gasp. "This is turning you on. Admit it."

"Nnhhh-!"

Abruptly he stepped back, breaking all contact and nearly causing her to fall to the floor, suddenly unsupported. "That's all right, mudblood, I won't make you say it. Not right now anyway. But I'm sure as hell not lifting the curse, either… better safe than sorry, wouldn't you agree? Now get the hell out of my sight. I'll see you in a few hours… Hermione."

00000 X0X0X 00000

He was staring at her.

Again.

This time he could look his fill with no fear of discovery or any kind of interruption. He had just entered the prefects' bathroom and there she was, reclining in the tub with water and bubbles up to her chin. She had added a lot of bubbles to the bathwater- they completely obscured her from the neck down, which he was sure she had done on purpose. He didn't mind. It was merely an added bit of anticipation… just imagining how she looked beneath the mounds of soapy froth was making him hard already.

And it was only ten-thirty at night.

And he fully intended to keep her til dawn.

She was his and his alone. For hours. Incredible. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry.

Her eyes were closed- if he didn't know better he might have thought she'd fallen asleep in the bath. But when he'd come in her brows had knitted together just the tiniest bit… proving that she was aware of his presence and her refusal to look at him was intentional.

"Open your eyes, Granger," he said.

She did so. Such an ordinary color those eyes were. Plain, common brown. And yet at the moment he thought they were the most captivating eyes he'd ever seen.

"Does anyone know you are here?" he asked.

"No."

"Brilliant. Now stand up."

Slowly, she complied. And his jaw nearly dropped. Under the drifts of protective bubbles she had piled up all around her, she had been completely clothed in the water. The same blue jeans and turtleneck she'd had on earlier now clung, sodden, to her frame. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her chest.

"Well, I'll be damned," Draco said, momentarily stunned by this blatant display of defiance. "I never did tell you specifically to disrobe, did I?"

"No." Her voice was like lead.

Draco hardly knew whether to be furious, or amused. "Well I'm telling you now, mudblood. Take. Off. Your. Clothes."

She did so, with jerky reluctance, stripping the blue turtleneck- nearly black, soaked as it was- up and over her head, and then peeling off the jeans- a task that involved much tugging, shimmying, and wriggling of hips. Draco very nearly lost it right there.

Hell if he was gonna lose it in his fucking pants, though… no, he was going to cum in Granger- again, and again, and again.

She reached behind herself, her hands going, he knew, to the clasp of her modest white bra… well, not so modest now, actually- it was, in fact, saturated to the point of being almost completely transparent. Her eyes were closed, her face again wearing that brow-knit expression she'd had when he'd come in. "Stop," he said abruptly, his voice little more than a croaky rasp.

She froze at this and her dark eyes flew open, locking instantly on his, carrying an expression of impossible hope. He smirked. "Don't delude yourself, Granger, I'm not letting you off that easy. It's just that I'd prefer to do the rest… myself."

She dropped her hands to her sides… dropped her head too; long tendrils of wet, dark hair falling across her face, obscuring it. Draco walked to the edge of the tub, stripping off his own shirt as he did so. Sinking into a cross-legged sitting position at the water's edge, he beckoned her over with an imperious gesture of his hand. "Come here, Hermione."

She did. Slowly. Coming to a halt mere inches from him, her head still bowed, her face still hidden.

"Sit down."

She began to fold herself into a sitting position beside him, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her toward him, catching her off-balance. She fell crossways into his lap with a little cry; his mouth immediately found the hollow where her shoulder met her throat, and he sucked on the soft, damp skin there the way a man who'd been wandering parched in a desert might suck down cool water from an oasis.

He ran his hands greedily over her body, taking her all in; he could scarcely get enough. She was shivering violently, he noticed- so violently that her teeth were actually chattering. Some of it, he surmised, was the shock of getting so abruptly out of a warm bath, and stripping off her clothes to boot- but he didn't think that was all of it, not by a long shot.

"Granger?" he said.

"Yes?" Her voice sounded faint. Her breaths were coming faster now, piling one on top of another.

"Turn to face me. No, not like that- straddle me. One leg on either side, good. Wrap your legs around my waist."

"Oh God," she whispered, and then did something that shocked him to the core… she threw her arms around his neck of her own volition, and dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, burrowing in beneath his chin. She was clinging to him like a child, and shaking like a leaf. Her face, pressed against his bare skin, felt feverish and hot.

"Oh God, please," she half-sobbed, her words muffled against him. "Malfoy… please."

"Please what, Granger?" he asked, lowering his head so that his lips were moving against her temple.

"Please… Malfoy… God… I'm scared."

"Granger…" he moved his lips until they brushed against her ear- darted his tongue out, playing with the tiny pearl stud earring that nestled there. "Hermione. You're a virgin, aren't you?"

She shuddered; a sudden and powerful spasm that wracked her body hard. When she answered him it was obvious that she was speaking through tears; she was practically choking on her words.

"Y-Yes! And I d-don't… want… to do this!"

"I'm sorry," he said, and he very nearly sounded it, too- the truth was, he was shaken… but not shaken enough to stop. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but you don't get a say in the matter. I've wanted this too goddamn long."

"But I don't understand why," she whispered brokenly, and then practically wailed, "why me?"

"Why you? Why you?" Draco raised both hands to grasp her by the temples, forcing her head up, making her look at him. "Do you think I wanted this, Granger? Do you? To be half out of my mind over a fucking mudblood? You're barely fucking human, for God's sake!"

She recoiled as if he had slapped her- tried to shake her head, to wrench it backward out of his grasp- but he was having none of it. His hands, already buried in her damp hair, clenched into fists- causing her to still immediately, and gasp with pain.

"Oh no you don't," he hissed. "You asked, and I'm telling you. I need you because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. That's why you. You're abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous, Granger. Don't you know that? How can you not know that? "Hasn't Weasley- (he sneered the name; fresh tears leapt to her eyes at the sound of it)- ever told you?" When her only response was to bite her lower lip, he gave her a little shake. "Well? Hasn't he?"

"No!" she cried. "Ron loves me, I know it! He shows me every day! But he doesn't-" her voice dropped to a whisper- "he doesn't tell me. No."

Draco leaned in toward her until their foreheads clunked together. "And what would he show you if he walked in right now, Granger?"

Hermione gulped a deep breath and swallowed. "He'd show me what you'd look like, in pieces."

Draco tilted her head back and planted a lingering kiss on her mouth, sucking on her bottom lip, biting it gently. "Good, mudblood," he said a moment later when he came up for air, "you hold on to that thought. It may bring you some comfort while I'm fucking you six ways from Sunday. Now lie back- and keep your legs around my waist. Do it, Granger. Right Now."

He stayed right with her as she shifted, sealing his lips to hers again, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth; violating her, claiming her. He used one hand to cushion her head as it fell to the tile bathroom floor- the other was beneath her, unclasping her bra. He pushed the flimsy fabric up and over her breasts, freeing them, causing her to whimper into his mouth, without ever breaking the kiss. It was a long moment later that he levered himself up to have a look at the treasures he had just uncovered.

"Merlin's balls," he swore softly to himself, and then, to Hermione, who was staring fixedly up at the mosaic decorated ceiling, tears steadily leaking from the corners of her eyes to streak down her temples and lose themselves in her damp and snarled hair, "lie still."

And catching her breasts in both his hands, he lowered his head to suckle greedily at first one, and then the other.

"Has Weasley ever done this to you?" He taunted several moments later, flicking lazily at her nipples, having tasted his fill- for now, at least.

"No." Her voice was barely audible. She continued to stare straight up.

He unhooked her legs from his waist- pushed them wide apart- let one hand travel leisurely down, over her stomach which was trembling and heaving with her hitching breaths, until at last it came to rest over the silken fabric of her panties- the last shred of clothing left on her body. She was so hot down there; the heat positively radiating out through the flimsy scrap of cloth. He pressed down with one finger; began to rub her through her knickers in slow, desultory circles. Her entire body jerked almost a foot off the floor.

"How about that?" he drawled.

"N-No!" she gasped, her hands clenching into fists, unable to do anything more without breaking his direct command to stay still. Draco rubbed her for a long time like that before finally stopping just long enough to hook his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and tug them down to her knees.

"Then he's certainly never done this," he observed in a cruelly mocking tone, as his finger resumed its previous activity, now directly on her skin. "Has he?" he pressed, when she didn't immediately answer.

"No. Oh Malfoy, please no."

In response he applied more pressure, his finger locating her entrance and dipping, just barely, in. "Oh my fucking God, you're tight," he murmured huskily. "Never had so much as a finger inside you, eh? Not even your own?"

"No," she sobbed.

"Reckon you'd like to keep it that way, wouldn't you?"

"Yes!"

"Too bad. There is one thing I'll do for you though, Granger. Don't move." He pulled his wand out of the waistband of his pajama pants, pressed it gently against her lower abdomen, and muttered a rapid incantation.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, panic now clear in her voice. "What have you done to me, Malfoy?"

"Relax, it was only a contraceptive spell. Much as I'm going to enjoy tonight, I have no particular desire to breed with you… and I'm assuming the feeling is mutual. Why do you ask? How does it feel?"

"Warm," she whispered. "Tingly. Strange. I… I don't like it."

"So you'd rather bear my child?"

"God, no!"

He chuckled a little at the vehemence of her answer. "Well… as I told you, the feeling is mutual, so good. Oh, and there's one other little thing. There's an aphrodisiac built into the charm as well. Consider it my gift to you, Granger. You're going to enjoy this nearly as much as I am."

This only served to bring on a fresh spate of tears.

"I don't want to enjoy it! I want to g-go… upstairs… to b-b-bed!"

"Sshh." He put aside the wand and stretched out full-length beside her, one hand resting possessively on her tummy, the other burying itself in the tumult of dark hair that fanned out about her on the floor. "You think too goddamn much, Granger, that's your problem. By the time you go upstairs to bed the sun will be out and I'll have fucked you in ten different positions. So deal with it."

He lowered his mouth back to her nearer breast- the nipples were hardening now before his eyes, a result of the spell, no doubt. The hand that rested on her stomach traveled lower to resume its previous task for several long moments as the spell continued to work on her and she got wetter and wetter against her will… then, without warning, he plunged a finger deep into her.

She gave a little scream and her back arched like a bow.

"Malfoy! No! Oh… oh… nnuhhh…" she cried, tossing her head violently from side to side as he continued to debase her, now adding a second to the first. Her body was definitely reacting now; bucking up against his hand even as he knew her mind was screaming in protest. "Nnnnhh… oh… God… oh God, stop!"

"Not a chance," he growled, releasing her breast from his mouth and leaning close over her flushed face, his fingers still moving inside her body. "Not quite the untouchable little bookworm anymore, are you, Granger? Now be a good girl and kiss me."

He lowered his mouth to hers in a rough, possessive, lip-bruising kiss and she responded almost frantically, her hips now gyrating in rhythm with his hand even as tears continued to leak steadily from her closed eyes.

"God, you feel so good on my fingers," he said hoarsely several minutes later, breaking the kiss. "I think it's high time we took this… all the way."

Those words were what brought on the true hyperventilation.

All of a sudden, what she was doing could hardly be classed as "breathing" at all- she was pulling deep, shuddering gasps of air in, and in, and in, but seemed unable to exhale again at all. She was choking- choking on her sobs and choking on her words as she begged desperately, futilely, for her virginity to be left intact.

Draco was actually brought up short for a moment as her entire body was wracked by a coughing fit brought on by inhaling her own tears.

"Granger." He leaned over her once more, but here eyes were glazed now, unfocused; her anguish so great that for the moment she hardly seemed even to register him- the direct cause of it- right there above her. "Granger. Hermione! Damn it, pull yourself together." He slapped her.

Perhaps this method of getting her attention was questionable, but it succeeded, and surprised her into breathing properly again.

"Well," he said, a bit surprised himself, "I suppose that means we're even for third year now."

"If we're even then you can let me go," she said, but her voice was wooden; there was no hope in it now. She didn't really expect him to let her go… which was just as well, since he had no intention of doing so.

"Turn over," he said, ignoring her comment completely. "Onto your stomach, Granger. Now."

She did so immediately, not really having any choice in the matter. She folded her arms on the wet tile floor and buried her face in the protected little space they made. Draco pulled her panties the rest of the way down her legs until they dangled, forlornly, from one ankle; then, kneeling between her thighs, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her none too gently toward him- until her hips, slightly elevated now, bumped against his. He sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, and finally undid his pajama pants, freeing an erection so intense as to be nearly painful.

Hermione shuddered all down the length of her body when he nudged just barely into her tightness- but he still didn't take her, not quite yet. He continued to tease her instead, rubbing back and forth, and in tight little circles against her, while she bucked and twisted, panting, but unable to offer any real resistance- she was still under the Imperius Curse, which would not allow it. Draco smiled… for him, this was heaven. Merlin, it had been worth the wait, all the planning, the association with intoxicated house elves- worth it and more than worth it. This was bliss.

She was shaking her head back and forth, back and forth- it was still buried in her criss-crossed arms.

Draco had reached the end of his capacity for foreplay. He found his target and pushed in; an inch, then two. Hermione gave a muffled scream. He stopped.

"Granger," he said quietly, "raise your head."

She obeyed, but not by much. She lifted her head maybe an inch- her hair, now a complete, tangled mess, still obscured her face.

"Look at me," he said relentlessly. "I want to see your eyes."

She turned to face him over her shoulder, and slowly raised a shaking hand to push back the dark curtain of hair.

"Good girl," he said, all mocking condescension. He began to rock his hips, each small thrust taking him just a fraction of an inch deeper, watching her eyes all the while. "You are so- fucking- beautiful," he told her in a rough whisper, "and you feel so good. And I want you to remember, mudblood- never forget- that this, right here and now, being fucked face down on the floor like filthy little whore, this is what you were made for, Granger. This is your place in the wizarding world."

He was about a third of the way in now, when he bumped suddenly up against her hymen. She was biting her lip hard, whimpering deep in her throat. He stopped again; ran his hands all over her body for a long moment. "And what are you thinking right now, Hermione?" he asked her, almost gently.

She took a deep, shuddering breath- her eyes still had that unfocused look, and they were dilated now; they were so dark. He thought she might be going into shock.

"I… I… I want Ron… I wanted… wanted to give this to him!"

"But you're not," Draco said coolly. "You're giving it to me."

"No. NO! I'm not giving you anything, you're taking it! You're taking it away from me and I'll never… get it… back!" Her breaths were starting to pile up again.

"Push back against me," he said with brutal calm.

She froze, her entire body now trembling tautly as she fought this command with every fiber of her being. "No," she whispered, "don't… make… me… please don't make me do that! Please, Malfoy, oh God please, rape me if you must but don't make me- please don't make ME-" Even so she was doing it; she couldn't help herself.

Draco leaned over her, planted a kiss on her shoulder blade. "This isn't rape, Granger," he murmured, in a slightly affronted tone. "You're going to cum as many times as I do."

"I don't want to cum! I want to go h-ho-home!"

"Sshhh."

And he rammed himself the rest of the way in.