Snape had discovered two fifth-years, two sixth-years and three third-years wandering the corridors last night. The prefect patrols were clearly ineffective. "I don't know what you tell them to do Mr. Malfoy, but it certainly isn't their job." Draco didn't like being scorned by his own head of house. He and Snape had an understanding, he liked to think.
He spat at the side of the corridor as he approached the portrait hole. "Stupid mudblood," he mumbled to himself, "Have to talk to the fucked up little bitch." He punched the surrounding wall as the portrait snidely informed him that "little bitch" was not the correct password. He muttered the response and the portrait swung open. He auditioned several opening lines before settling on one with the most variations of the word 'fuck'.
"-and so in short he wants us to go on a fucking patrol."
Hermione shrugged, "When?" She had yet to look up from her book. It annoyed him.
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you you little fuckwit." Her eyes remained on the text. He expected it, he realised, never quite knowing how stubborn she was before these past couple of months. "Fine Granger," he continued, "I'll inform Snape of your failure to co-operate. Who knows? He might just believe me because he wants to see you punished."
Snape did, thought Hermione, he had it in for all Gryffindors.
"Well?" growled Draco.
Hermione looked up at him slowly. "You can be quite the little bitch when you want to be. Pansy passed on a few tips?"
Draco smirked. "She doesn't tend to say much I can understand whilst I'm boning her into the floorboards actually."
"You don't tend to understand much anyway, Malfoy." retorted Hermione.
He scoffed. "We both know that if I put in just that little bit more effort, Granger," he smirked, "You'd start to fall behind with the marks."
"You might be good in class Malfoy," she retorted, "But you're as thick as a dog when it comes to common sense."
His smirk remained as he shrugged. "Ten till one in the morning," he said, wiping the slight smile from her face, "Tonight," he added.
"You are joking," she laughed with disbelief, "Normal patrols end just after eleven."
"He found these twats after midnight," replied Draco, "Did I mention four of them were from your poncey little house?"
"Yes."
"Too thick to understand the rules, clearly."
"Just because they aren't trained in the art of deception. Slytherins are constantly breaking the rules."
"Absolutely," he agreed, "And getting away with it."
She rolled her eyes. "So what, I patrol the first two floors and you patrol the top two?"
He shook his head. "Snape says together."
"Together?"
"Unfortunately. I don't particularly want to be smelling you for the next few hours," he began, his face screwed into a disgusted expression, "But Snape says it's too late to patrol alone," he continued, "Personally I couldn't give a toss what happened to you, but I'd rather stay out of the red with him for the next few weeks at least. If you have a problem with that then you can just-"
"Fine."
"Just stay as far away as possible."
"What, no holding hands?"
"I'd rather eat my own puke, mudblood."
She hated that she was getting used to that word. When she warned him off- what felt like years ago- she thought she would never put up with it again. She was wrong, as she had been with many things so far.
Hermione wondered to herself how unsafe it was to have so many dark corridors in the castle. She wasn't keen on the darkness; nothing overly debilitating her, but she felt there was something consuming about it, something restricting and beating about the black all around her. She could only see all of what her wand would allow- and Draco's of course, because she couldn't forget that he was there too.
The top two floors seemed to stretch out forever like the castle was top heavy. It was eleven and Hermione noted that normally their patrol would be coming to a close. Normally, she thought, she would be wandering around on her own- though part of her acknowledged the fact that so far it hadn't been much different. After Draco briefly told her these late night checks were to be carried out randomly once every two months, the conversation locked away into a silence that at least allowed each of them to pretend they were alone.
Pretending was difficult however when they found a stray Gryffindor in one of the few candlelit corridors of the second floor. Hermione sighed, because it had to be a Gryffindor whilst she was out patrolling with the Prince of Slytherin.
"Gryffindor," he drawled, "What did I tell you Granger?"
She ignored him. "What's your name?" she asked the boy.
"Michael Scaventon."
"Year?"
"Fifth."
"And what are you doing out past curfew, Michael?" Hermione asked, waiting for the inevitable and bitter interruptions from Draco through his blatant smirk.
The boy shrugged. He was thinking for a moment. "I guess I forgot to pick up my laundry this evening so I'm on my way there now."
Hermione noticed the mocking in his tone. "You guess?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing.
He nodded curtly. "I like to get things done."
Draco laughed out loud. "What a load of bullshit you thick prick."
Hermione shot him a cold look and turned back to Michael. "No Michael," she said, "What were you really doing?"
"Going to..the laundry..room," he replied, slowly with emphasis on every word.
She raised an eyebrow. "The rules clearly state that fifth-years aren't allowed outside house quarters after nine thirty," she told him.
"Oh for fucks sake Granger," sighed Draco, "Give the little shit three detentions and tell him to fuck off."
"Three detentions?" she turned to him, her tone remaining calm, "And I suppose Slytherins will only get one? Or maybe, if they're lucky enough to be a girl, if they promise to have a quick shag with you, the whole thing will be completely forgotten?" Hermione said it all instinctively, forgetting they had company. She rolled her eyes at her lapse in Head-Girl-esque behaviour and turned back to the boy. "I'll be giving your name to Professor McGonagall and you can be sure you'll be sitting a detention within the next week. I'll be mentioning your attitude as well."
"And with so many Gryffindors on that bad list of hers," grinned Draco over her shoulder, "I'm pretty certain I'll opt to supervise that detention. We can have a bit of fun." He said it all looking at Hermione. "Can't we Michael?" he added.
Michael shrugged. "Whatever."
Draco snapped his eyes dangerously towards at him and tilted his head to the side. "I think what you mean is yes sir."
Michael stared back at him, a silent refusal to answer. Oh no, thought Hermione, asking herself why every Gryffindor had to be so bloody stubborn. "Report to Professor McGonagall in the morning," she said, breaking the uneasy silence and writing down his name. "And that's ten points from Gryfinndor."
"I'd say more like fifty."
"Ten, Malfoy, as well as the detentions."
"So what?" asked Michael, "Are you two going to get my washing for me then?"
Hermione sighed. If the boy was trying to be funny, he was failing miserably. "Just go," she ordered, half pointing in the direction of his dormitories. But Draco stepped into his path, his eyes bearing down on the fifth-year.
"What?" Michael dared, "You don't offer that service?"
"Listen you cunt," he growled, "Do not disrespect the head prefects or you can be sure you'll get a lot more than a fucking detention next time round." His eyes bore right into him. "How about you write that one out for me two hundred times?"
Michael looked back at him in silence. Hermione knew they'd found an idiot.
"And how about," continued Draco, "You get that done for me by eight o' clock tomorrow morning. You like to get things done after all, don't you Scaventon?" He moved closer to the boy, the gap between the two of them narrowing enough for Draco to tower high above him.
There was a short silence in which a frown began to deepen on Michael's forehead. His mouth started to open and Hermione dreaded the words that were starting to come out.
"How about you go fuck y-"
"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, rushing up to him and pulling on his shoulder as he slammed Michael into the wall, his fist pulling firmly on his tie as he watched the tips of his shoes scrape desperately at the ground. "What are you doing?!" Hermione shouted at him.
"Fuck off!" he spat at her, turning into Michael so their foreheads almost touched. Draco pressed his wand harder into his neck and he made a small choking sound. "You better watch that mouth of yours Scaventon. You've got a lot to be sorry for now you've opened it."
"Stop it will you?!" shouted Hermione, "Let him go!" She struggled again to pull him off but he ignored her.
"Let me hear your apology," snarled Draco, breathing into Michael who was shaking as he nodded a response. Draco loosened his grip enough to let the words slip out.
"S-sorry," he stuttered.
"And to her," he growled, "Nice and clearly."
"Malfoy please," said Hermione helplessly, tears rising in her eyes, "Stop it…"
"Sorry," coughed Michael, his eyes flickering over her before Draco stepped away from him and he dropped to the ground. Hermione rushed over.
"Bloody hell Malfoy!" she barked, desperately trying to help up Michael. "What the hell was that?!"
Michael was rubbing his neck. "Are you okay?" she asked him, "Michael? Do you need-"
"No," he interrupted hoarsely, taking a few awkward steps away from them. He caught Draco's stare. "Honestly I'm fine, I'll just…" He gestured in the direction of his common room.
"What a fantastic idea," agreed Draco, watching as the boy hurried clumsily off down the corridor. Hermione watched him in disbelief. "Michael are you sure?" she called after him. He didn't reply as he disappeared around the nearest corner.
She let out a breath of astonishment and turned round to face the Head Boy. He was clicking his knuckles.
"Let's get on," he muttered, beginning to walk past her. She pushed her hand against his chest and he leapt backwards. "Stop fucking touching me you stupid bitch!" he said.
"Fuck you!" she exclaimed, shaking her head in amazement, "I mean seriously, what in Merlin's name was-?"
"You'll make me sick," he told her, "I don't want your Mudblood hands all over me."
"That's not what I meant!" she said, pushing him again before he could dodge out the way.
"I'm warning you Granger," he snarled.
"Or what?" she laughed, "You'll half strangle me like you did that fifth-year? You do realise he'll go straight to McGonagall and I can guarantee that's both of us out on our arses you stupid fucking idiot Malfoy!" She shook her head again. "What the hell were you playing at?"
He raised his eyebrows. "That little shit won't be running off to tell anyone," he answered, "You can be sure of that."
"How?" she asked, "And I mean can you even blame him if he does?" Hermione started to walk towards him again. "Why did you do that?"
"You heard the dickwit, he was giving a bit too much back to us."
"So he was full of it," she raised her hands, "Give him your three beloved detentions, don't ram him up against the bloody wall!" She stood before him now, her chest heaving with exhaustion.
"Look, fuck you alright?" said Draco, "I was doing you a favour."
Hermione laughed out loud. "A favour?"
"Teaching him respect," he replied, "Because he clearly didn't have any for either of us."
"I can handle the backchat fine."
"Oh yeah," he frowned, "Your comebacks knocked him dead."
"Better than bruising his jugular you idiot."
"Teaching people lessons is part of the punishment bitch."
"You know it wouldn't have been like that if he wasn't Gryffindor!"
"No one speaks like that to me and gets away with it."
"Oh don't bother Malfoy."
"Sure if it were a Slytherin it probably wouldn't have happened like that because he wouldn't be stupid enough to give those smart arse remarks." Draco laughed. "He wouldn't have been thick enough to be caught in the first place."
"Oh yes," sighed Hermione sarcastically, "Because Slytherins are quite clearly the best."
"You said it."
"And what am I supposed to tell McGonagall?"
"Nothing," he told her, "And it better be nothing or you'll live to regret it."
"What you hurt women too do you?"
Something about that comment made Draco wince. "Fuck you," he barked, "I've never hurt a girl in my life."
Hermione shrugged. "What a vote of confidence that last little performance was."
"Unless you're referring to a hard and brutal fuck Granger you're wrong. And anyway, I can get to you in so many different ways it will be like Christmas for me to choose."
She looked at him disgusted and shook her head. "You're a bastard, Malfoy." She turned away from him and began to walk off.
"Where are you going?" he called after her.
"Away from you," she replied.
"What about patrol?" he asked, "Not like the Head Bitch to disobey her little orders."
"Fuck you," her voice echoed.
He let out sharp growl as she left up the corridor. Turning around he clenched his jaw and tightened his fists to find himself punching the wall with the same scraped knuckles as earlier. That little bugger may have pissed him off but never as much as she did. And he never realised it would get to him so much. He never realised. He felt sick suddenly. He wanted to throw up because she even so much as suggested that he might hurt her. And even if she didn't think it, she said it all the same and he wanted to never never hear those words because it reminded him so much of dark things. Dark things even for him.
It reminded him of home.
Draco swallowed the thoughts in his dry throat, bitter and biting, and his mind reverted back to Granger's consumption of it. Because he was thinking about how he hated her. More and more everyday but especially now. And he began to think, began to plan a release since he would only feel some sort of relief when he knew she'd paid for making him feel like this. Because not even Potter got him this wound up so easily. Not even the Boy-Who-bloody lived and his pathetic peasant begging bitch of a friend.
He knew he was getting to her, and that he had since the beginning of term. But he really needed, like a desperate energy, to hear it. To hear her tell him. He'd broken her. He needed to know he'd broken her.
She was sitting in one of the bay windows looking outside. He wondered what she could see in the darkness after one in the morning. He knew she heard him come in since she pulled down on her skirt as it rode up her thighs- the ones he forbid himself to ever glance at for longer than a second-and slid down her legs- never longer than a second- without looking in his direction. It was better than the usual no response that he despised so much.
"I didn't find anyone else," began Draco, after he'd moved towards the fire. It was simmering down and not as warm as usual. The whole room seemed slightly colder. "Not even a another filthy Gryffindor," he continued, "I suppose half the bloody castle heard you wailing at me and got the message."
She didn't turn her head to him, didn't make a sound.
"You didn't come straight back here did you?" he asked. She ignored him again. "No I suppose you wouldn't. Continued on your patrol like a good little girl I'll bet." She moved then, but it was only to wipe away the reforming condensation on the window before her. Draco frowned. He could see her faint reflection and knew that meant she would be able to see him too if she wanted. She wouldn't be looking though. No. All those Gryffindors were the same, so damned proud and righteous it made him shudder with impatience. "That bastard had it coming," he tried, evocative he hoped, "You can be damned sure I don't regret a single bit of it. No one speaks to me like that." Maybe she sighed, he wasn't too sure, but the condensation seemed to reform quicker this time. "Admit it," he said, watching her hand wipe it away again. "Admit that you loved seeing that smug fucker pressed into the wall." His tone lowered. "Admit that you liked seeing me do that. That you
wanted to do it yourself." Her fingers twitched. That's right, he thought, let me work you up. Let me watch it happen. He dared further, leaning forward, staring at her reflection, watching the flicker of eyelashes. His voice fell to an almost half-whisper. "Admit that it turned you on, Granger."
Instantly her back straightened and she swung her legs off the ledge. Draco smiled to himself as she stood before the window, her eyes cutting right through his skull. "Hit a nerve, did I?" he asked, pleased that it took exactly what he thought it would to get her eyes on his.
"You enjoyed hurting that boy did you?" she asked him, her lip quivering, "You loved every bit of it?"
"I would do it again." Inside himself Draco was a little intrigued, though mostly uninterested in how that lip of hers was the only thing conveying her anger. Her tone was calm, her voice was annoyingly collected, those distracting eyes of hers were deep and dark as ever but they weren't looking as if they could spit fire like earlier, no matter how far they seemed to reach into his head.
"Then why were you going around punching walls afterwards?" she asked him, nodding towards his bleeding hand, "I mean it obviously can't be anything to do with me getting you wound up, Malfoy. I'm scarcely a blip on your radar, right? So if it's not me or Michael, then what is it?"
He stared at her. His smirk remained but he didn't speak. He breathed harder instead.
"Your stupid sick fuck act doesn't fool me Malfoy," she continued, "You're not as straight cut 'bad' as you like to think you are. You're just as weak as you think I am." Draco stood up suddenly and she jumped, stepping back from the window and away from him. She grabbed her bag on the nearby table stand and gripped the wand inside it. "The only difference being that I'm not as weak as you think I am," she added.
Draco laughed. "What are you going to pull out of there Granger?" he asked, "Potter?"
Hermione took out her wand and threw her bag to the floor. Draco's eyes darted to her hand and the momentary tremor in his posture went unnoticed. "Doesn't it bother you?" she continued, her knuckles white, "Harry has so much you don't."
"Can't say I ever look at the Weasel with that longing sort of feeling actually."
"He's a real hero. He knows more about the hardships in life than anyone and he's still standing tall without some big fat chip on his shoulder. And he has real friends because of it. People that love him, would do anything for him. People that respect him and not because they are afraid of what will happen if they don't." Hermione's eyes travelled down Draco's body. "And he doesn't get complete slags falling at his feet the whole time either," she scoffed.
Draco grinned. "I can guarantee you he doesn't count that one as a blessing."
"I meant he gets the decent girls," she said, "Don't you ever wonder what that would be like Malfoy? Getting a decent girl?"
"I can get anyone I want," he retorted, his smile fading, "And you know it Granger."
She rolled her eyes. "And what really really must get to you Malfoy, is that Harry has morals, he has feelings, he has a heart," she continued, "That's why he's going to grow up and live an admirable life for himself instead of cowering in the shadow of his father like you."
Draco's expression turned to stone. "You start to bring my father into this and we'll have a problem bitch." He stepped towards Hermione and her arm jerked instinctively forward, pointing her wand
straight at him. He reached inside his pocket.
"Don't you fucking dare," she warned him, "I'll hex you I swear Malfoy. Don't think I'm bluffing." He laughed at her and removed an empty hand. "I don't have it anyway," he said, gesturing towards his bag dumped in front of the common room door. "Took it off when I came in. Didn't realise I'd be having a face off with Little Miss Gryffindor."
Her arm remained straight and poised. "So how about you admit it?" she said, "Admit that you're weak."
"How about you admit it first."
"I'm not weak."
"I'm talking about earlier tonight with that Scaventon bastard. Admit that it turned you on."
"Fuck you."
"Oh I bet you wanted to."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" spat Hermione, the calmness drifting away, her face reddening by the second.
Draco stepped towards her. "Why do you think the question is bothering you so much?"
"Because it's the most disgusting thing to come out your mouth all year."
"Is that right?"
"Yes." Draco was close enough for the tip of her wand to touch his shirt. Hermione didn't like that he'd been able to get there without her using it.
"Well then answer me," he said, "Did you like it?"
"Like it?" How the hell, she thought, can he ask such a question? "Of course I didn't like it!"
"You didn't?"
"No."
"You're lying."
"Any closer and I really mean it you bastard." But she was shaking. For fucks sake, she thought, stop shaking. He had turned her, turned her composed exterior inside out as per fucking usual.
"I saw the way you were breathing." His tone lowered again. "Like you are now."
"I'm angry," she said, "Get that into your thick twisted head."
He stared at her without blinking, his eyes slicing through hers like broken glass.
She sucked up the air through her nostrils and let it fill her lungs, straightening her spine, levelling her feet. So many things she wanted to say. So many. "Take a big fat fucking look at yourself Malfoy," she said, "Don't you know how to do anything other than irritate the shit out of people?" And once she started- "Don't you know how to interact without shagging girls or getting those
meatheads Crabbe and Goyle to beat people to the ground? You can't even understand that all of it shows just how fucking vulnerable you are. You can't fucking stand to hear the truth- can't stand the fact that maybe someone isn't as scared as you as the rest. Like that Gryffindor, like Harry and Ron, like me." – she couldn't stop, she couldn't see how she could ever stop. "How long has it been Malfoy? Seven years? How exactly have you managed to stand by and watch everyone else grow up without catching on that maybe, just maybe, you should be doing the same? It's pathetic! The self-proclaimed leader of Slytherin, quite possibly the most disgustingly devious house in the school, and you have absolutely nothing to teach them other than how to destroy even more of whatever good is left it those dense skulls of theirs! You think mudbloods are sick, Malfoy? You think we're diseased? You're the one who needs help! You're the one who makes my skin crawl whenever we stand in the same room! You're fucked up Malfoy. And your father couldn't even teach you anything other than how to fuck up everyone else with you-" Her wand went flying.
She was up against the wall, winded, Draco's face centimetres from hers as he gripped her shoulders and pinned her firmly- hard- into the wall. Stunned, angry, unable to quench the fire within her, Hermione caught her breath quickly. "Go ahead," she hissed, "Hit me." Draco was breathing hard, his face screwed into a frown as his teeth ground together in front of her. She could hear it, feel the fury. He was enraged. "Hit me," she said again. His jaw was moving, grating, grinding in his cheek. And close, so fucking close to her. "Isn't that what your father would want you to do?" she asked, the proximity deafening. His pallid eyes were dancing with her reflection. She could see it, no matter how she tried to sound, she looked terrified. "Isn't that what he'd tell you?" she continued, beginning to stutter, "Hurt me. Hurt the mudblood bitch. We're weak." He was mere moments from her skin, and he wanted to hurt her, he needed to so – so fucking much as she stood throbbing against the wall, her words sharp and dead and hot. "Go on." She repeated it one last time. Sharp, dead, hot. "Hit me Malfoy." So he did the only thing he could to stop himself.
The only thing. He kissed her.
His lips crashed onto hers and her head banged back against the wall. He heard her muffled screams as her lips shut tightly and struggled away from him, pulling her mouth free.
"No!" she resisted as he grabbed her chin and forced her back to look at him. "Fuck off Malfoy!" she whimpered. She could feel his breath against her skin and it made her shiver, a deep, startled, severe tingling that travelled down her back erecting all the tiny hairs its path. She struggled again and he tightened his grip.
Once more, slow and firm, he pressed his lips into hers and she stilled, her eyes, those dark fucking eyes, seething at him. Draco pulled his head back once more. They stared at each other for a long second, longer than it should have been, breathing and screaming inside and full of something, everything, nothing they could understand. "I hate you Malfoy," Hermione whispered, a voice as raw as ripping silk, hoarse, hot, close to tears, "I hate you so much."
And Draco brought his lips to hers one last time, and her mouth opened for him, pushed into his, felt the wet heat of his hard tongue and gave a short sharp moan as one of his hands grabbed her hair and tugged her head back, leaning into her further. Draco was angry. He was kissing her to punish her, to punish himself, and it was punishing- it was desperate, frantic, wild. It was his teeth biting down on her bottom lip, hard, hungry. He took it in his mouth and sucked all the blood to its surface, sharp and sweet, releasing it moments later to taste the other, feel it throb, threaten, beg for more. And he couldn't stop, sucking at her tongue, pressing his mouth against hers, his tongue-deeper and deeper. Hermione felt it, she was losing her way. She was dissolving, fizzing, terrified to open her eyes, her hand holding a fist full of his shirt, pulling him into her, and he was pressed, she was melting to the wall, he was fucking eating into her. He bit her again, harder, hungry still, shamed and so deliriously irate as he burned through her lip. She made a small sound lost in the dark of his mouth. Both his hands held her face now, rough, brutal, and she couldn't move, wouldn't move, and he thought he tasted the faint tang of blood on his tongue so he licked, lapped,
lusted at it and tasted more. This can't be just a kiss, his mind raced, pounded, shattered into a million pieces all screaming her name her fucking name- Granger- and they both needed air, needed air so much because he realised he couldn't breathe but he was so angry he wanted to suffocate her wanted her to break-to-break-now-please- and suddenly she was pushing.
She was pushing against him firmly, hard against his chest- she can't breathe- harder then with her elbows and writhing, wriggling away, moaning things over his tongue that scraped against hers frenziedly and he couldn't quite understand when it all went from bad to worse and he was forcing a fucking mudblood against him, hands leaving her face, pinning her back to the wall, chewing back onto her lip and pushing his mouth down so hard on hers as if she would split for him because he wanted to her split-break-anything but stop him and he swore she had kissed him back and now? Now he couldn't understand but he held her there, couldn't leave her lips, couldn't still his tongue he had to taste and press her, show her who was the one with the control, the authority, wanting her to want him, crave him forever, pressing his hardening cock against her thigh and moaning into her mouth at the contact, almost bucking at the idea of what was inside of her, slick, warm, tight, dirty. She was moaning louder now, trying to close her mouth, trying to put her lips together but his tongue, he wouldn't stop it, he was so furious and he hated her so much that he couldn't stop it. And her struggling became harder- when did she stop kissing him back?- and he was finding it harder to hold her, but he was strong, stronger than her and stronger still and he was glad to know there was nothing she could do. She's too weak. But don't stop kissing her, don't stop your tongue, don't let her scream, don't stop the taste, don't open your eyes, don't acknowledge, don't accept, it's a fucking filthy mess and you're devouring a mudblood, it's Granger, it's fucking Granger her name again, her name her name her fucking name and then-
Draco tore away his mouth and collapsed onto the floor beneath her. "Fuck!" he spluttered, clutching his suddenly softening crotch as he rolled around at her feet. "What the hell are you playing at?!"
"What the hell are YOU playing at?!" Hermione screamed.
"You fucking kneed me-"
"What do you expect?!" she screamed again, rushing over his body and away towards the opposite wall. "You fucking BASTARD Malfoy!"
Draco's eyes were shut tightly, the pain, the pain was always unforgettable. "Bitch," he said, his teeth gritted.
"Don't you dare come near me," she shouted as he began to drag himself up on his knees. Draco noticed she had grabbed her wand again, it was pointed directly at him as he shakily stood to his feet. "I swear if you so much as take one fucking step!"
He was hunched over, still grimacing, his teeth still grinding. "In case you hadn't noticed you kissed me back you jumped up little whore," he spat.
"I was trying to make you stop!" she exclaimed, her arm straightening further in anger.
"You were pulling me into you!"
"Until I started pushing you away!"
His laugh faltered into a wince. "You've fucking crippled me," he growled, "Put your bloody wand down."
"I couldn't breathe!"
"Put your wand down Granger."
Her eyes were wide. "Don't move!"
"Shut up you idiot," he scoffed, "I can't even stand up properly."
"You deserved it."
"What's wrong with you? You wanted it!"
"I didn't want that!"
"You kissed me back."
"Stop saying that!"
"Fucking accept it!"
"You hurt me," she said, struggling to control the frantic rise and fall of her chest. "What happened to not hurting girls Malfoy?"
His eyes narrowed. "Shut up."
"I thought you didn't do that."
"I said shut up!"
"What would you have done?"
"Oh don't be so dramatic," he answered, "You loved it."
She shook her head. "You'll never get that close to me again Malfoy," she replied, her voice breaking slightly.
He looked up. He didn't know if he could see right but there might have been tears in her eyes.
"Do you understand?" she asked.
He doesn't hurt girls. He doesn't.
"Malfoy?"
"What?"
"Never again."
"I never want to again," he frowned, "I've never felt so sick in all my life."
She stared at him, those tears that might have been re-settling and unbroken in her eyes. "Never again," she repeated, her wand still pointed to him as she moved the few metres to the staircase.
He stared back at her as she took the first step up the staircase to her bedroom. "I didn't hurt you," he said, "Just so we make that clear as fucking crystal Granger. You kissed me back and I don't care how many times I have to say it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"What do you think it's supposed to mean?" he said, his posture broader now, "I wouldn't want anyone finding out about this sick fuck up anymore than you do. But if you don't cooperate I'm pretty certain Potter won't stay entirely clueless for the rest of the year."
Hermione's heart seemed to stop beating. "No," she said, her eyes wide, "You wouldn't say anything."
"Why not?"
"He'd kill you."
"Or die trying."
"No Malfoy, this stays between us." The tears rose again in her eyes and she swallowed them back.
"Well isn't that interesting."
"What?" she frowned, failing any attempts to calm the heated rush of blood beneath her skin.
"Why would you be so keen to keep it between us if you didn't even do anything, Granger?" he smirked, "If you're so sure I 'forced' you, then what's to stop you running to Potter?"
"Shut up."
"You wanted it."
Hermione shook her head in disbelief. How had it come to this? At what point did it all unravel so much? He would hold this to her forever. She would be trapped. She would be his and he knew that. She knew he knew that the bastard.
"And what if I did tell Harry?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"You wouldn't," he replied, his eyes narrowing, "Don't kid yourself."
"Wouldn't I?" she retorted, "I'm not stupid, Malfoy. I know you think you'll have this over me forever. I'm not going to let that happen."
"And what would you tell the boy Granger?" smirked Draco, "That we kissed so hard it was practically fucking?"
Somewhere inside her, her heart jumped. "No," she said, "That you wouldn't let me go. That you forced me still. That's what happened after all, wasn't it?"
"You'd be lying."
"Really?"
"You know you can't lie to your beloved Potter," laughed Draco, "You'd have to tell him you kissed me back and would it really be worth it? Would he ever talk to you again?"
Her eyes stung, it was too hard, she couldn't hold them back and a tear fell to her cheek.
Draco noticed, his smile deadened somewhat. "You can cry all you want," he growled.
She shook her head at him again and turned, ran, fled up the stairs, stifling the tears, the tears that fell and fell.
"It changes nothing!"
She slammed the door on his voice, sobbing, heaving, crumbling and sliding down the side of the door until her head was buried in her knees. Ashamed. Muffled moans and tears suppressed into her arms. Why? It was all a blur. And the worst part?
And the worst part.
She'd kissed him back.
