Author's Note - Well, I'm sorry! Please don't kill me. As I know you would've guessed, I was a tad bit busy. And honestly, I was developing the plot. It gets darker, later. Thank you guys for hanging on tight. And please review.

Suggest me songs for strip tease! Draco's strip tease, lol. Next chapter will be a bit more salacious. This one was important for emotional development, I guess. I would love to hear how yoy want their conversations to flow.

Keep Reviewing.

"This can't be happening...this can't be happening. This cannot. Shall not. Will not happen. This can't..."

The given words kept running in loop in Hermione's mind. Sitting in the bathtub, all she could think of was to drown her perverse thoughts and her traitorous hormones. She shouldn't have enjoyed herself so much so as to have lost her control like a minx. It was her foray to say the least - to unleash all the bloody pheromones and fucking dry hump a fellow classmate. Said deliquency becomes a sated sin when the fellow classmate becomes Draco ferrety Malfoy.

Soaking in the relaxing water, she could still feel the valley between her breasts tingle with the feel of his lips sweeping across the deeper crevices, could practically taste his bites on the supple flesh of her breast. Could hear his soft breath released against her bosom. The hot breath raising her body temperature to dangerous levels. But she shouldn't.

Irregardless of the fact that he was a quintessential specimen of what an Adonis-on-Earth would look like, it was damn near deplorable for Hermione to have displayed such a wanton behaviour before the Adonis's clone.

She didn't love him. *Eye roll* Didn't even like him for that matter. That was not the issue. Her main concern was her sanity. Her future. Ferret or not, Draco Malfoy was, undoubtedly, the first ever person to have ignited the sexual fire deep within her. He was the first to have played her body in the age-old rhythm of two fellow humans. He was the first one to have made her feel like a woman. Draco Malfoy would always be her first lover.., of sorts. Damn those gryffindors and the Hogwarts song. She thought darkly.

The next time she'd be intimate with someone, she would, at least for a nanosecond, compare his hair with the silky strands of Draco bloody Malfoy, his grunts with the animalistic groans of Draco barbaric Malfoy, his sucking and biting to the dexterous fork-tongue of Draco Slimy Malfoy. Malfoy would stay alive and peachy in her memory in the near foreseeable future. And that didn't bade well with Hermione. She did not want to fantasize about the slimy git, not even for a few seconds. But she would. Perhaps not for all of eternity but for the next few weeks or days. She didn't want to want to know more about his sexual prowess - his kiss, his whispers, his chest, his abs, his di...

Bad thoughts, Hermione. She chided herself. She was going in deep. It was just the euphoria of her first time. The idea to cherish her newfound sexual liberty. That's it. It wouldn't have mattered if it had been Viktor in place of Malfoy, or even the guy from her neighbourhood who once broke her window trying to sneak into her house, or maybe not. All she had to do was to stay stoic and alert; if she wouldn't be vigilant now, it would very well be too late. She will play the game but with her mind and not her heart. And she will win.

Or so she thought.

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Outside in the room, Draco was having similar self-incapacitating thoughts. He was not a 14 year old lad who had just seen a bra for the first time in his entire existence. Far from it. He had seen it all and then some more; but then why did he give up his self-control to the prissy know-it-all?

The tripe of the 'forbidden fruit' was not adept to justify his behaviour. Was it just the thrill of being someone's first? He obviously hadn't had that oppurtunity in a very long time. And when said someone was Granger, well there wasn't a single red-blooded male who hadn't fantasized about bringing the Griffindor Princess down a notch or two. That would be it. The satisfaction of finally showing the mudblood her rightful place - underneath her superiors. Under him. He could feel a nagging voice in the back or his mind, trying to finagle its way to the forefront: a voice that questioned as to how exactly did pleasuring the know-it-all, tasting her flesh with so much care, bringing her to the precipe of infinite ecstasy equate to tormenting her. But that whisper was in the back for a reason and so it remained there. Or was rather forced to, by the young blonde who much preferred to go with his hormones than his heart, or brain for that matter.

It was just like Christmas - the ebullient mystery that surrounds the presents, the unbeatable delight one took in unwrapping one's present, unravelling the hidden treasure beneath all that ostentatious gift wrap. The cheshire cat smile that threatens to cover your face when you see the most unexpected yet magnificent gift you've ever received.

That was Hermione.

You've ever had a midnight hunger attack? You must be akin to the desperateness that engulfs you to scrounge for the tiniest morsel. You hunt. You sneak around. You drink water. You search the same cupboard thrice and just before you think of giving up, you find it! The leftover pie from dinner. Back at 8 p.m, it was no big deal. Just some pie.

But right here, right now, it becomes a life saviour. It becomes a meth and you the addict.

Not that Hermione was his life saviour, it was just that he'd never know this - Hermione- was what he'd been missing out on for so long. Her mewls and moans. The delicious scraping of her nails against the sensitive skin of his neck. The caresses to his jaw. His face pressed up against the valley between her glorious breats. Her cheeky butt over his lap.

Now he has had his own set(s) of paramours but none was so forbidden, curious, or personal. He had never been anyone's enemy. Someone's rival. Guess hate-sex isn't exaggerated at all.

I'll find out soon. Draco mused devillishly.

Come morning, they'd be both back at each other's neck, why not mark hers tonight? The ball would be in his court (pun intended) and he would win this game of seduction. He'll get his fill of the unknown that was Granger. Have a wild night and then would go on with his life and lies. He remembered Hermione's embarassment at the end of their round and as her enemy, he felt obliged to humiliate her further. And what bigger indignity than seeking pleasure from a Slytherin. Him! Of all the Slytherins.

So, the game was on and like in everything else, he'd win. With cunning, charms, and canoodling. Sappy Gryffindors.

Or so he thought.

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In the main room

Hermione had finally managed to haul herself out of the bathtub to face her living nightmare.

The said living nightmare had reasonably calmed himself to face a living trollop (with a wicked tongue, his traitorous conscience added). While the past hour had been hot and heavy, this was plain awkward.

What can you say to your sworn enemy after a particularly piquant introduction to their breasts or pectorals?!

Forget the needle, you could have dropped a hair and it would sound like an explosion. Both the teenagers were stalling, not ready to look at the other. Their internal monologue didn't help matters. Seduction was out of window. So was indiffernce. Their initial prevarications were strangled by this tension between the two.

They were waiting for the other to do something. Anything. Where's your scathing slytherin smirk, Malfoy?

Where's your uppity, conscientious analysis, Granger?

And then, there was an explosion. One of massive level as there was not a hair fall. There was a Deed, and a debt. Both the teenagers started and put a stop to their internal struggles.

Hermione reached for the piece of parchement, no need to delay the inevitable, she thought with a sigh. Better get this over with. But after reading the deed, she felt that she was over. So was her life.

Seduce your partner with a strip tease and petting.

She had dropped the paper on 'strip'. Only heavens knew what petting would mean. Judging from last round, Draco was as docile as a dragon, literally.

She couldn't do this. Not only was she uncomfortable and naive but also because no one had seen her naked except her parents and her family doctor when she was 6. She couldn't give it up to Malfoy. He'd taunt her, insult her and make her realize how undesirable she is. Also because he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be the first man to see her in all her naked.., glory?

No, she admonished herself, she would not follow the path of self deprication for a foul klutz like Malfoy no matter what debt she would have to pay. After the first round, she was expecting the worst.

Please no torturing anyone, no bullying house elves. Please.

During her internal prayers, her debt card appearee before her. With her eyes closed and fingers crossed, she reached for the debt card. She cracked one eye open. Then the other. Read the darn debt and blinked.

Is this supposed to be worse than the deed? Is it transgression?

There on the debt card were the words

Reveal a secret.

That's it? A secret? Don't get it wrong, secrets are precious and perilious but only the palpable ones. People would care if you told them your first murder. Your greatest embezzlement. Your alternate life as a mafia. But they wouldn't give a gnome's worth of attention to your first kiss in grade 6 (spin the bottle, everyone) or how you lied to your parents about the report card.

Hermione could use that. Reveal a secret. Any secret that wouldn't give Malfoy any sort of ammunition. And so she pondered while she took the debt slip in her hands.

On the other side, Draco was astonished. Granger really chose a secret over seduction. Save me, Slytherin! Any secret, big or small, has the potential to petrify a person pathetically. Presumptuous Gryffindor. Even something as innocuous as your first crush, first kiss, first lie could get you in trouble. He still remembered how Pansy blackmailed him for weeks following his revelation of that one time he magically locked Lucius' cane in a closet so he couldn't punish him for one whole week before the house elves were able to retrieve it. But perhaps, this could work in his favor. Everybody wants to know everything there is to the golden girl. He was chirpy just thinking about all the favours he could earn by spilling Granger's secret.

Seeing how Granger would be a goody good slouzy, perhaps he'll exaggerate the secret. Yes, that could help. He'll just -

"Back in second year, I wished you were dead." Hermione's sudden outburst shut whatever Draco was about to think. Raising a cool eyebrow, he replied nonchalantly, "In case you didn't get the memo, the feeling was mutual." Honestly, that was Granger's secret! Even Mrs. Norris knew that.

Sneaky Mudblood found her way out this one, Draco thought darkly.

"You don't understand Malfoy. I-I have never wished anyone death before. Seriously injured, maybe. Voldermort in hell, of course but death and that too when I was just 13! I hated you Malfoy. You stood against all my idols. I could never see the good in you, could never forgive you. You brought out the worst in me. I-I hated you." Hermione ended in a soft voice. She didn't understand why she revealed that particular information.

Yes, everyone knew she hated him. They were everything the other person fought against! But, it was more than that. In some sense, Malfoy was the first to corrupt her conscience, her innocence. She had hurt people; even killed on the battlefield but she always thought that that dark streak was brewed and nurtured by Malfoy. By his actions, his taunts, his bullying. And she hated him for it. But, not anymore. She couldn't because -

"You don't hate me anymore? Why?" Hermione had grown pale following her admission. Draco had waited for her to continue, to realize her grammar mistake or give a clarification about how he was already dead for her. Anything! He was waiting with bated breath but nothing came. She was lost in her thoughts. Draco couldn't take it anymore and jumped the question before her. Or rather his farfetched guess because surely Granger still hates me. Doesn't she? He wasn't so sure anymore.

She had meant to deny it, shrug it off and move on with the game. That was the sensible thing to do. But when she looked up and saw Malfoy fidgeting, sporting a nervous look that she could have never imagined on a Malfoy, let alone Malfoy, she felt that he needed to know. He needed her forgiveness or her indifference or anything but her hate. War did that to them. It changed their perspectives and their necessities. She had seen Malfoy being all cold, ruthless and indifferent amidst the crowd in the corridors. Being a Malfoy. Everyone saw that. What no one saw was Malfoy being Draco. Late night, in the library, while she would be studying an advanced text or just some trashy romantic story (guilty pleasure, alright!), she would see a solitary figure bent over a tome, his stance all agitated, his posture lanky, his clothes crinkled. She would see Draco hunched over the book, but his mind would be worlds afar. He would look into space and just look...lost. Not so cruel or snarky. But someone who was indescribably sad: someone who had given up. She knew so because following the war, she had given up too. So many people, so many places, so much guilt! It ate her from inside. People were worshipping them, all hailing the Golden Trio. But at every event, they could see people mourning. While they received awards and appraisals for their bravery, thousands remained unnamed, unknown, unsung. Harry and Ron had joined the Auror department partly out of interest and partly as a responsibility: they wanted to serve justice. They wanted to somehow placate the guilt of how they couldn't save so many people. How there were some permanently damaged at St. Mungo's just because they stood up for a Harry Potter, a Ron Weasley, and a Hermione Granger. How they gave up their lives to protect the Boy who lived, the golden trio. She knew that pain but academics and her friends had helped her -as much as they could. They were there to convince her how it wasn't her mistake. She wasn't wrong or selfish or a coward. How she was brave and daring and inspirational. How she was Hermione Granger.

But Draco Malfoy had noone. His friends were facing their own demons and though the Slytherins did stick together, they were more snakes than friends. No one was there to tell him that it wasn't his fault. No loud encouragement in a sea of whispers. Noone to allow him to redeem himself. And one night, he had slipped. She saw him. Draco Malfoy had cried. Just a tear but a tear nonetheless. That was when she had realized that Malfoy was so much more. And how she did not hate him. She wanted to assure him how he wasn't a coward. He did what he had to. It wasn't his fault. She forgave him. And so she told him.

"I don't hate you Malfoy. I have seen you. During the war and after it. You are a changed man whether you believe it or not. You're not evil and you do not deserve to die. You deserve a chance. You deserve redemption. You deserve a new beginning. You helped us, Malfoy. We wouldn't have won in the grand design if not for your decision. And for that, I thank you and I forgive you. You're a good man, Draco Malfoy."

Draco was stunned. He didn't know how much he needed this. The guilt had been killing him. He had killed Dumbledore, allowed the death eaters in the castle, started the war. And everyone did a fantastic job in reminding him of the same, everyday. His friends were no help but then what had he expected? They would hex the gossip mongers for him but would not talk to him. Tell him that it was not his mistake. He did not mean it. He could still be saved. He was dying to hear those words without even realizing and now those words came from Granger!

He was beyond bewildered. She forgave him! For calling her a mudblood, for bullying her, for being a foul, loathsome, evil, littke coackroach?! For the first time, he comprehended her: her innate goodness. Her innocence. Her morality. Herself. And Draco knew he was doomed when he realized that he would take this secret to the grave. Noone deserved to doubt Hermiome Granger's innocence and inspiration when she was sitting before him like an epitome or everything good. Everything divine. She might be a mudblood but she was just so...pure! He waa getting a headache from all the paradoxes.

Granger was looking down, her fingers entwined with each other, resting on her lap. She was nervous. Of her revelation? Was she ashamed? Did she think he was honestly not worth her forgiveness? Did it affect him so much if she did?

Now that was dangerous waters. Better to steer clear for as long as possible, Draco thought.

He cleared his throat and said, "Well, that was unexpected." Her expression dropped. "But not unwelcomed. This is cumbersome, but thank you, Granger. You deserve every good thing."

Her head whipped up. There must be mistake. Did he just-

Draco could see it in her eyes: she was analyzing and over analyzing his unexpected remark. He had not meant to say it all. He just.. did!

To prevent the elephant in the room becoming heavier, he said, "So I reckon it's my turn. Let's see, shall we?"

He didn't wait for her reply and instead took up the deeds and debt cards that had appeared.

Hermione recognized his tactic but said nothing. For once, she agreed with his way. Why not adopt ignorance? It would work for both of them and their sanity too. But one look at his puzzled face and locked jaw told her that it wasn't going to be sanely safe for either one of them.

He set the cards down, giving nothing away. But one look at the cards confirmed her inhibitions. There on the deed card was written

Reveal a secret.

And the debt card, naturally was

Seduce your partner with a strip tease and petting.

It was going to be a long night.

They both thought.