Chapter 2

After making the deal with Malfoy, Hermione had stayed awake for hours. She'd barely dozed, twisting and turning in her sheets, sensitized to each slip of the cotton over her heated skin. She didn't know what he would do to her. She didn't know what her vague promise had entailed. He had told her to be creative, and she had left the details entirely up to him and his deviant imagination. She was nervous, she was anxious, and she desperately tried to ignore the thick, hot coil of desire building between her legs.

She castigated herself for feeling anything other than revulsion about the agreement, rationalizing to herself that it must be the adrenaline provoking a hormonal response. Yes, that had to be it. It had nothing to do with him; after all, she had feelings for Ron, and he and Malfoy couldn't be any more different. In any case, she needed to impose some limits before this started. Some restrictions. Some rules.

After a quick shower at the crack of dawn, Hermione dressed, made a pot of coffee, and worked on drawing up a contract on the kitchenette counter. She thought about what limitations she could finagle out of her slimy Slytherin roommate, and what consequences would be terrible enough to force him to comply. Hermione wished Crookshanks were with her instead of at the Burrow. She'd sic him on Malfoy.

After some thought, she charmed the parchment, much as she had the list of names of Dumbledore's Army in fifth year. The cost for breaking this contract was harsher. She sipped her coffee. Much harsher. She hoped Malfoy would even agree to sign it.

She was willing to do anything to prevent knowledge of the Horcrux hunt from reaching Voldemort. And certainly, whatever happened between her and Malfoy would be preferable to a stint in Azkaban caused by her using an Unforgivable. But if she could negotiate terms before they started, the evening would be less traumatic.

She swallowed. What did he want to do with her?

She studied the parchment, confident that the preventative hex would work, and jumped when she heard Malfoy's door creak open. He stretched, grabbing the door frame above him and giving her an eyeful as he did so. He was clad only in green silk boxers.

Dropping his arms, Malfoy walked over to the kitchenette and stood behind her, leaning over her shoulder to look down at the parchment. Her entire backside came to life from the heat of his body. He wasn't pressing against her, but she felt him brush lightly against her back, rear, and legs.

"What's this?" His breath tickled her ear. Hermione shivered.

"A contract," she answered, trying to sound unaffected from his nearness and state of undress. "I want to ensure that I can Obliviate you and whoever has seen the notebook of all memories pertaining to—"

He waved his hand dismissively. "I haven't shown anyone."

She turned around, facing his bare chest before looking up at him defiantly. "Then it will be easier for you to comply with the terms of the agreement."

Malfoy reached behind her and picked up the parchment, scanning what she had written with interest. "You want me to sign this?"

"Yes."

"Am I going to get pimples that spell 'Insufferable prat' if I refuse to be Obliviated?" He smirked, pointedly referencing what she'd done to Marietta Edgecomb in fifth year. "I'm not sure I have the real estate on my forehead for all those letters."

A brief feeling of relief washed over her. If he was still being flippant, he hadn't yet broken the charms on her notebook. Maybe he hadn't realized there were any. He didn't understand the value of what he held in his possession.

Yet.

Hopefully they could finish this tonight before that changed.

Hermione held his amused gaze for a few seconds before replying. "No. You'll develop gangrene on your genitals."

She watched his smug smile fall with a sense of satisfaction. "You're serious," he replied.

She would have laughed at his horrified expression if the situation weren't so dire. She ground her teeth in frustration. "I'm not fucking around, Malfoy."

He stared at her in shock for a few moments. "Fucking hell, Granger," he said softly. "I'd almost prefer you tortured me." He flipped the parchment over to see the blank backing and reached for her quill.

"That's not all. I want to add some conditions and restrictions."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Oh?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. The smug arrogance was back.

"You can't use any Unforgivables on me."

"Done." She added the words 'Draco Malfoy may not use Unforgivables' to the list on the charmed parchment.

"You can't Obliviate me."

"Done." She scrawled that on the parchment as well. This was going well; she felt encouraged by the progress. Malfoy might be dangerous, but he wasn't evil like the other Death Eaters. She continued.

"You can't make me talk about anything pertaining to the war."

He snorted in derision. "Gladly."

She paused while writing. Saying 'Done' meant that he agreed to her terms. 'Gladly' implied something else entirely. He didn't even want to know? Then why did he take her bag in the first place? Wasn't the whole point of this exercise to prevent him from sharing war secrets with his side?

She rounded on him in frustration. "If you don't care, then give me back the damn bag!" He just stared at her, unmoving and silent. Waiting for her to continue.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled sharply through her teeth. Fucking. Buggering. Hell. He was such an arsehole. She returned to the list of her conditions, her voice a tad louder in her anger.

"No Legilimency."

His eyes snapped to hers apprehensively. "How did you know I'm a Legilimens?"

"Because you've just told me now."

His lips parted, then curled slowly into a smile. "Done." Leaning into her, he spoke again. "You don't negotiate like a Gryffindor. I need to wake up and think about this a bit."

"There's plenty of coffee left." She pointed at the urn with her quill. "Twat," she muttered under her breath.

"Language," he chastised with a laugh and returned to his room.

She didn't like anything of what was happening here, but at least she had regained some semblance of control over the situation.

Dangerous, but not evil. She could deal with that.

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Thirty minutes later, Malfoy returned to Hermione's side at the counter, thankfully fully dressed in his school robes. It didn't stop the now familiar heat from spreading through her belly every time he was next to her, but at least she didn't have to look at the rises and dips of his muscles. Or feel his skin on hers. She rubbed her thighs together at the memory.

She looked over at him. He took a bite from his croissant and sipped his coffee. His demeanor had changed dramatically from when he had first woken. Gone was the flirty, smug arrogance from before; now, he was taking this agreement as seriously as she was. He chewed thoughtfully and motioned to the parchment with the hand holding his croissant, extending his pinky.

"Write down that you have to obey everything I say from 5 o'clock in the evening until 5 o'clock in the morning."

She turned to him in disbelief. Seriously?

"You already agreed to one evening. Evening, Malfoy. It says so at the beginning. Eight until midnight."

He nodded as if he'd expected her to walk him back. "Five until midnight."

"I'll want time for dinner. Seven o'clock."

"Six."

"Fine," she ground out. She didn't think she'd be able to stomach dinner anyway. She finished writing and without looking at him, made her demand. "It has to be tonight."

Hermione wanted to get this over with. An unanticipated downside to the contract was that he would undoubtedly go through her notebook now, if hadn't already. Before their negotiation, he hadn't been aware of the severity of its importance. Now, there was no question that he was. She didn't want him to have time to figure out how to get past the concealing charms, even if he claimed he didn't care. Aside from that, she might have to go on the run any day now. She needed her bag back and to Obliviate him as soon as possible.

"Sometime this week," he countered.

She shook her head. "I need it back as soon as possible. We don't know… when the axe will fall," she said, using his euphemism from the tea incident.

Slowly, he turned to look at her. His molten grey eyes studied her face, and he appeared to be weighing his next words. "The axe won't fall this week."

Hermione's eyebrows rose in surprise. She would tell McGonagall as soon as he left for class and send a Patronus to Harry and Ron. He must really want this if he was giving up information like that.

"Tonight," she pressed, holding her breath.

"This week, or I keep it." Malfoy wanted this agreement, she knew he did. But she needed it more. After giving her the quick win earlier with the time frame, he was showing her that he could walk away, but she couldn't. The terms and conditions that she was imposing were at his discretion. She didn't have anything that would make her walk away aside from the Obliviation, and he knew it.

If he didn't want to do it tonight, there were two possible reasons. The first was so he could have more time to figure out what was so critical about the contents of her bag. The second, which chilled her to the bone with dread, was that he wanted time to prepare.

But she had to give in. "Fine."

"Is that all, Granger?"

"No," she continued tonelessly. "No one else can be involved."

He studied her over the rim of his coffee cup as he sipped and then licked his lips. He was back to flirting again. Those damn cups.

"Done," he said and smirked. "I don't like sharing."

She rolled her eyes and added the stipulation to the growing list on the parchment. "The entirety of our evening has to be spent here in the common area."

"And the bathroom," he countered.

She looked over at him. So they would shower together? There were worse things to worry about than a steamy shower with the prat who pranced around in a towel.

"Fine," she agreed. "You can't tell anyone about this."

She thought he paled slightly but couldn't be sure. "Unless I'm under duress."

She nodded silently and felt a twinge of pity for him, despite how disgustingly perverted he was.

By his own aunt.

Hermione couldn't imagine what it must be like having someone like Bellatrix in her family. She corrected the statement, and Malfoy nodded.

She tried to keep the trembling out of her voice for the next rule. "You can't hurt me."

"Then what's the point?" he answered without missing a beat.

She turned to him slowly, horrified, but he just took another sip of his coffee, grey eyes fixated on her.

"You want to… hurt me?"

"A bit," his voice was casual, despite the topic of conversation.

He was willing to walk away over this. She just knew it.

"What exactly do you mean by 'a bit', Malfoy?" she spat, trying to keep the tremor of fear out of her voice.

He ran a thumb along his jaw and held her gaze. "What do you think it means?"

She gripped the quill so hard she thought it might snap. Being hurt was what she was afraid of. A stinging hex? A broken arm? Being cut? Whipped? She had no idea what he had in mind. This was terrifying, and of course he wouldn't answer her. He never answered her.

Taking a deep breath, she continued.

"Nothing that would need healing."

Hermione could see the answer in his eyes before he spoke. Her throat felt tight with fear.

"No," he answered quietly.

She steeled herself and pressed forward. All she could think about now was broken bones, violent rape, knives, and blood. But that wasn't him, was it? He was dangerous, but he wasn't evil. What in the hell did he want to do to her? Beaver teeth again?

"Nothing that would require Madam Pomfrey. You can only do things to me that you can heal yourself."

She could see him imagining all the things he wanted to do to her and whether or not they aligned with this restriction. Her eyes widened slightly as he mentally raced through what appeared to be a very extensive list. Most seventh years could repair bruises, scrapes, and cuts, and the effects of some hexes. She had no idea how capable he was as a healer, but at least there would be some limitation to what he could do.

"No," he answered again.

Hermione closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She reminded herself that this was her fault. She had been careless, and now she was paying the price. But it had to be done. It had to be done. No one could know about the Horcruxes, least of all Voldemort. And they needed the basilisk fangs to destroy them. She opened her eyes again.

"No permanent damage." Her voice was shaking. She was terrified now.

His lips spread in a thin smile as he considered her request. "Are you a virgin, Granger?"

She swallowed, considering her response carefully. He'd likely see evidence of that anyway if he intended on having sex with her. "Yes."

"Well, then," he closed in on her. The heat from his breath and his body made it hard for her to breathe. "Stretching the hymen is permanent damage. Isn't it?"*

"No permanent damage except to my hymen," she amended, her body trembling.

"Alright."

She released a shuddering sigh in relief. Not a sadist. He was not a sadist. He wasn't evil. She could do this.

She had one last card to play but had no idea if he would agree to it. It didn't necessarily restrict his ability to hurt her, but it would make him consider that there was a price to be paid for his actions.

"Last condition. Whatever you do to me, I can return to you two-fold if I choose, at another time."

That caught him off-guard. "Two-fold?" he queried, stepping back from her.

"Two times more, two times harder, two times longer, two times…" Hermione trailed off. She couldn't think of any other adjectives that would apply. "You get the idea."

He rubbed his jaw in thought, eyes never leaving hers. It would give her the ability to hurt or hex him with impunity. She'd be restricted precisely by what he chose to do to her, and what she could stomach doing to him in return. She didn't know what he planned on doing to her, but it would force him to consider that everything he did could be returned.

"You sure you would want to go through with that?" he taunted her in a soft voice.

Hermione had no idea what "that" entailed, but she was no stranger to physical violence. She'd inflicted more on Ron in the past when she was angry with him than she had on Malfoy.

"If you're a foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach, I absolutely would." She tried to smirk at the memory of her punching Malfoy in third year, but her mouth simply would not turn upward. She was too anxious to see whether or not he would agree to the limitation.

He contemplated her, obviously impressed. She had no idea what consequences he was weighing or how her stipulation had changed his plans. It was another way to limit how he could hurt her, after he had already rejected the two previous restrictions. Perhaps he would find her attempt to inflict hurt upon him amusing, imagining her to her be incapable of it. Another way to mess with her head. Maybe that was worth the additional restriction to him.

Malfoy finished off his croissant and licked his thumb and index finger while continuing to pin her with his bright grey eyes. Hermione's eyes strayed to the movements of his tongue.

"Alright, Granger," he said, startling her. She hadn't realized how distracted she'd become from watching his pink tongue pick up the remaining crumbs on his fingertips. "Two-fold. If you don't have anything else, let's sign this now. Some of us still have class."

She handed him the quill, and he signed his name. The black ink of his signature flashed gold as the magical contract took effect. He returned her quill, and she rolled up the parchment.

"The fuck are you doing?" he asked in disbelief. "Sign your own contract!"

She glared at him, unrolled the parchment, and signed her name.

It had certainly been worth a try.

Bugger.

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The anticipation was killing Hermione, and Malfoy knew it. Every day, she'd throw herself into her research and try to block out the impending tick of the clock towards six. He continued as usual: sweaty bare chest walking into their shared bathroom; dripping wet bare chest returning to his bedroom. Wearing naught but that damned towel wrapped around his waist and looking as if it could fall off at any moment, he sent her heated glances and brushed past her when he could. He undressed her with his eyes, leered at her legs, and watched her with obvious enjoyment if she bent over.

At least she had narrowed down her guesses. Hermione was now certain that the diadem was the Ravenclaw Horcrux. So she'd made some progress, but Malfoy was making her insane. She knew they were going to have sex but didn't know the details. She guessed there would be some form of BDSM since he was so intent on hurting her but didn't know to what extent. Spanking? Whipping? What else? She expected that she'd have to close her eyes, lie back, and think of England to get through it all.

And yet, part of her was nervous and excited. In spite of herself, Hermione felt a growing lust towards him with the passing of each waking hour. As six o'clock came and went on the previous two days with no signal from him, she had found that she couldn't differentiate between her relief and her disappointment.

She eyed the clock.

5:55 pm.

In the periphery of her vision, she saw Malfoy stand up, stretch languidly, and walk over to her. She sucked in a breath, put aside her notes, and slowly stood to meet him. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she felt her loins tighten in anticipation. This was it.

He approached her, and she looked up into his eyes with trepidation. He raised a hand to her face and rubbed his thumb lightly over her cheek. The gesture was surprisingly tender, and his thumb was causing all sorts of sensations to her insides. He leaned down close to her face, and she tilted her head up until their lips were almost touching. After several seconds of expecting a kiss and receiving none, she swayed, slightly off balance.

"Eager, aren't we?" he whispered against her lips. He removed his hand from her cheek and extended his arm towards his open bedroom door.

"Accio broomstick!" His broom flew into his hand with a thunk and he walked out of their common area without a backwards glance.

Bastard.

Chapter end notes:

*I originally had Draco ask about "tearing the hymen" and changed it because this is a common misconception. Thanks to MisDemeanor1331 for pointing it out. Hymens don't necessarily tear after sex. They can stretch though.

A lot of girls stretch their hymens before having sex – doing sports, gymnastics, horse riding. Some girls have hymens that are already wide enough to accommodate a penis. Some girls have to have their hymens surgically cut because they are so small and make sex painful.

Also - thank you all for the reviews! I love them! Fanfic authors don't get paid for their work, reviews are the closest thing to payment and we eat them up with a spoon. It's very satisfying to see that people enjoy your work. :)