Love At All Cost

Disclaimer: Not even the plot and certainly not Harry Potter and Co. belong to me. One belongs to Minami Kanan, and the other to J.K. Rowling. OoOoOo! I forgot; I do have a brand on Sam Logerdoz, that hot gay guy that he is. Drool

-+-

Chapter 3

Draco quickly pulled Hermione into the girls' toilet and locked the door after them.

"At least I have the balls to tell it to you face to face."

"Oh, that really satisfies me… that you can say it to me face to face. Wow, what was I thinking, I mean here you are, you can just say it to me now."

"And what are you doing here, playing the carefree muggle?"

"I could say the same to you, Mr. Oh-so-good-bowling-technique."

Draco slammed her hands over her head and on the tiled wall. "Oh are you willing to let people step all over you, making comments behind your back, acting like a fucking Patil, for gods sake, just to get in someone's pants? You don't mind if someone does something because you want it?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione turned away her head but almost gasped the next moment when she felt Draco's tongue sliding across her neck. Tears filled her eyes as she noticed her helpless disposition. Here she was with her arms pinned to the wall by Draco's firm ones, backed into a corner as Draco's tongue ran all over her ne-

Draco smirked as she gasped. That hollow little place under her ear was very sensitive. He catalogued and stored that piece of information as he worked his tong upwards.

"I like the way you were," he whispered into her skin and then moved his mouth from her neck to her cheek. But when she moved her mouth to meet his he stepped back and looked with satisfaction at her flushed skin and quickened breath.

Hermione almost stepped forward. Already the fright was beginning to fade, leaving her with the (not so) unpleasant feeling of slightly wet panties. Her arms trembled as she put them down and massaged her wrists.

"See, I was right. You didn't even try to push me away," he sneered and walked out of the bathroom.

-+-

Hermione looked outside and saw the grey clouds of England once more. It was just her luck that the day she had returned home, it had been one of England's best days ever. And she had been too sleepy to notice. She was back home, cocooned and safe as she helped her Mum do one of the most boring things ever: cook. How she could be astounding in Potions yet not even make a soup without burning something was beyond her. Of course, she never thought to compare it to Potions, and so her skills remained at level 1.

Her mind wandered as she thought of the past few days. They had been hectic but to Hermione, they had seemed to stream together so that only one memory kept popping out. Draco Malfoy licking her neck, and whispering into her ear as he steadily pinned her arms above her head with his own slim yet muscular arms.

Hermione's knees still wobbled at the intimate encounter. She couldn't make up her mind. Her mind said it was wrong, that he was using her to get information about Harry. But her body and even her heart longed for him to touch her again. She had never felt such anticipation for anyone, not even Ron. When compared to Draco, she knew her crush on Ron was just that… a crush. It would disappear and it didn't matter anyway. Her logical mind could already see them fighting about the slightest detail if they dated.

You know how they say to be careful when handling a knife? It seemed Hermione needed a proper reminder because the next moment, she had cut her thumb with the knife that had been chopping the potatoes. She first looked as if it was a dream, but then the stinging started and she hurriedly got a napkin to halt the bleeding. She went outside to escape the kitchen. The air did good for her lungs, but the stinging worsened and she bit her lip not to cry out.

Why did everything have to happen to her? Did Draco kiss her to annoy her? To show he loved her? Hermione's thoughts kept rebounding back and forth in her head and her anger grew. But she didn't want Mum to know anything was amiss and just circled her backyard as the thoughts kept pounding in her head. It wasn't fair! Why did it have to be Draco, son of the pureblood elite and Death-Eater, Lucius? Why couldn't it be someone she knew? Ron, Harry, perhaps even Bill or Charlie? Why, gods why, did it have to her arch enemy, Draco sodding Malfoy?"

The air crackled with magic as she kept pacing back and forth and it was suddenly released, acting as a strong wind. It was a good thing that there was nothing that could be moved in her backyard. Except… Hermione watched with horror as the pole of the drying line was wrenched out of the ground and thrown in the air to the side street next to her house. "Of all the bloody things…" she muttered under her breath as she saw someone walking in the path of the falling object. "Watch out!" Hermione warned, but she hid her eyes behind her hands, not wanting to see any damage. The clang of the metal pole never came and so she peered out of her hands. The unlucky stranger had caught the pole and was now coming up from his crouched position.

Hermione rushed over. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Do you need help getting up? Here let me take that pole from you," Hermione rattled on in nervosa and in hopes that he hadn't seen any magic.

She quickly took the pole from his hands and planted it with a vicious shove back into the hole it had previously occupied. When she was done she felt free to take a good look at the stranger.

"I'm so sorry," she said again.

"It's okay," an amused voice said and when she peered into his face, she instantly sprung back and hid behind the pole.

"Malfoy! What are you doing here?"

"Well I was looking for you and got lost in the neighborhood. Suddenly a pole attacks me, and seeing you, I catch the poor thing so you don't have to buy a new fighting stick, how crude it may be."

Hermione sighed irritably. "If you must know, it isn't a fighting stick, as you so elegantly put it; it's a pole so that clothes can dry in the wind." She almost laughed at the slight blush that crept on to junior Malfoy's cheeks. "Well, you've seen me now, so go away." Hermione made shooing motions and returned inside.

Somehow, Hermione wasn't looking forward to Hogwarts as much as last year.

-+-

He remembered when he had been younger and had drawn on the wall with a red marker. Going up, going down. How beautiful it had seemed. It was just the same. Down the arm, up the arm. He rolled up his pants and looked at his painting from yesterday. How unearthly beautiful. It felt like he wasn't meant to watch something like this and he quickly slashed his masterpiece away. If he couldn't stop watching it, at least he could ruin it.