Chapter 10: Words Said in Anger

Hermione woke suddenly, at least physically. Mentally she was still mostly asleep and her brain couldn't quite process what was happening around her. For instance, her eyes saw sumptuous bedding vastly different from her own humble yet comfortable set, but her brain didn't relate this unfamiliar bedding with Draco, or even acknowledge that it wasn't Hermione's own bedding. She merely blinked a few times to clear the haze of sleep from her eyes.

Her skin felt the softness of silk sheets, the warmth of a heavy comforter, and the coarse hair of male legs against the back of her thighs but her brain didn't linger on any of these sensations. She simply arched her back and pointed her toes to stretch her legs and shake off lingering tiredness in her limbs.

Likewise, her nose recognized the scent of sandalwood and musk and expensive cologne and sex but her brain ignored it all. She took a deep breath which turned into a yawn and rolled towards the source of the smell, burying her nose in a fragrant neck and tucking herself more closely to the warmth and firmness next to her.

Her ears similarly heard the knocking at the door but her brain chose to ignore it in favor of the sound of deep and even breaths and a steady heartbeat beneath her. That steady lub-dub was lulling her back to sleep by the time her brain caught up and she shot up, suddenly wide awake and frantic. So frantic that she ended up tangled in the bedding and falling with a loud smack and the resulting groan of pain to the floor.

Draco must have woken up by then because his stupidly blonde head peered over the side of the bed, equally blonde eyebrow arched and perfect lips spread in an amused smile. Hermione watched as he became aware of the steady knock knock knock on the door. His face drained of color and his head turned slowly, like something out of a horror movie, towards the common room before darting back to her face. Hermione's eyes widened and she gestured to her undignified position on the floor, explaining it without needing any words. Draco nodded once, accio'd his wand, and set about to swishing, waving, flicking, and twirling, clearing the air, righting the bedclothes, and gathering their strewn clothing into two neat piles.

Hermione hastily dressed and ran to her own room, closing the door behind her and changing into flannel trousers and a long, thermal t-shirt. She threw her hair up into a messy bun, using her own wand to hold it in place after casting a few cleansing charms, and grabbed the closest book she could get her hands on. As an afterthought she dipped her quill and splattered a bit of ink on her hand and across a piece of parchment, notes for her charms project. She could claim she had been studying and had muffled her room so as not to be disturbed.

She heard Draco yell, "Keep your shirt on!" and then heard him open the door to their dorm. When she heard him ask, "What do you want?" she decided to make an appearance.

Opening her bedroom door, book in hand and "reading", Hermione feigned surprise at seeing the common room occupied. "Oh, I was…Neville? What's wrong?"

"It's about time, 'Mione! I've been knocking forever. Not to kill the mood or interrupt or whatever but I'm desperate! Can Draco spare you for a little while?" Neville looked from Hermione's calm face to Malfoy's confused yet cautious one. A face that quickly went blank, eyebrow lifting imperiously.

"That is creepy. A little too Snape-like, if you ask me. But seriously, I need your girlfriend for a couple of hours so can she come out to play?" Neville was very amused to see the blank expression crack and panic settle in. Draco's grey eyes widened and darted back and forth between Neville and Hermione like he was watching a muggle tennis match. "Relax, I'm a vault. Nobody is going to hear about it from me."

"I don't know what you're implying, Longbottom, but clearly you've been breathing in some toxic fumes or something because…"

"He knows, Draco. He can be trusted. I'm going to go help him out for a little bit. I'll be back before dinner, ok? Do you want to go to the Great Hall together or…?" Hermione didn't bother to correct Neville's use of the word 'girlfriend' and was waiting to see what Draco would say about it.

She watched as his shields came back up and sighed, knowing what was coming. "I don't see why you would think I would want to be seen walking with you, Granger. We have an understanding, nothing more. I don't need, nor do I want, a girlfriend."

Taking the high road, Hermione merely shrugged and replied, "Well, if I don't see you before dinner, enjoy your evening. Neville, give me a second to throw on some shoes and we can go."

"I'll wait outside. The tension is a little thick in here. Bye, Draco," Neville called as he left the two lovers alone.

Hermione had two choices. She could a) ignore his comment or b) start a fight and demand he label whatever it was they were doing. Ok, so three choices because she could also just go with the vibe he was putting out and agree with his assessment of their…relationship. They had an understanding, a mutual attraction that would go nowhere outside of these walls. Draco didn't really let her choose, though. He jumped into a fight rather quickly.

"What the fuck, Granger? Blabbing to Longbottom about our…whatever the hell this is? Did you give him details, too, like how big my cock is? Did you ever think I might not be okay with you talking about something private with fucking Longbottom of all people?"

"Like you never talked to your friends about your conquests? Please! I was a little freaked out, which I thought was obvious by the three days I spent avoiding you to try and figure it all out. I needed someone to talk to who wouldn't judge me, or go running off to tell Harry and Ron. Neville is a great listener and he's loyal as a Hufflepuff. He wouldn't…won't say anything. And he's the one who told me I should just sleep with you to begin with, if I really wanted to."

"No, I've never bragged about any conquest as you put it because I was raised to be a gentleman. Gentlemen don't kiss and tell, Granger. You, obviously, weren't raised to be a lady but I guess that's a product of your muggle upbringing, to have no sense of propriety or decency." Draco moved closer, towering over the petite witch to hiss angrily in her face. "And, lest you forget, even if I wanted to gab to my mates…I don't currently have any! The only person who will speak to me is you and you fucking left me here for three damned days after I opened up to you and offered to listen to your troubles. You left me to go pour out your heart to Neville Fucking Useless Longbottom! Is that where you were? Fucking him and having a good laugh at my expense?"

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Draco was livid. He could tell that he probably had a dark red flush high on his cheekbones. A red flush that only got redder when Hermione hauled off and smacked him. His head whipped to the side with the force of the blow and for the first time since he was out of the nursery he was tempted to hit a girl. His hands clenched at his sides but he took a deep steadying breath before turning his face back towards the bint who had struck him. Again.

"Gentlemen go around insinuating women are whores, do they? Suggesting they would sleep with one man and then immediately turn around and slag around with another before crawling back to the first?" Hermione shoved him back a step. "Calling 12 year old girls nasty slurs and telling them you hope a basilisk kills them? Bullying firsties and gleefully watching as a madwoman tortures them with blood quills?" Another shove. "Planning the murder of a good man and letting death eaters into the school? Watching teenage girls tortured and doing nothing about it?" Shove. Shove. "Is that what gentlemen do?" Shove. "Remember, Malfoy, that when you want to call someone's character into question, it's best to do it with someone who doesn't actually know yours. I've seen you and I know you and I looked past it anyway and gave you a chance. More fool I, it seems."

Before Draco could defend himself, apologize, lob more insults of his own, she was gone, once again leaving him alone. Draco turned and punched the wall behind him, bellowing in pain as something in his hand made a distinctive crunch. Fuck! Summoning Hermione's bag from the room she left open, once again, he retrieved the bone mending potion and chugged it. He might as well use her potions since it was her fault he was in this mess to begin with!

Stupid witch and her stupid admonitions. As if he didn't know he was a shitbag human being who had done horrible things. As if he didn't regret every last bit of it. As if he actually meant what he said about Longbottom. She should have known it was said to protect himself. He was feeling exposed and vulnerable, damn it, and that slap fucking hurt!

Still angry with her and even more so with himself, Draco let loose on the common room. He slashed the couch to ribbons, fluffy stuffing filling the small space. He hacked at the tables, smashed the porcelain sink and toilet, ripped the shower head out of the wall until water was gushing down and flooding the bathroom. He tore through his own room, bedding torn to ribbons and furniture obliterated, before he finally fell, exhausted, onto the pile of scraps that used to be his bed.

He felt better and yet still not. He regretted cleansing the room as he missed the scent of her on his sheets. Then he was angry for missing her. Draco rolled to his feet, his renewed anger giving him energy. He would show her. He marched steadfastly to her room, grabbed the box from its not-so-subtle hiding place, and dumped its contents out on the bed.

Picking up the first magazine, he tore page after page out, charming them to stick to every bare stone in their dorm. Magazine after magazine, he kept tearing and sticking until there weren't any left. Then he pulled out her skimpy, see-through, lacy, and racy undergarments and hung them around her room. A quick charm later and the words, "are these the actions of a lady?" sprawled themselves across the pictures of witches and wizards, witches and other witches, and combinations of the two in numbers ranging from one on one to half a dozen at a time, all engaging in various sexual acts from heavy petting to hardcore fucking.

"See how she likes her privacy being invaded," Draco mumbled, satisfied with his work. His stomach reminded him that potions took energy, as did wandwork, and he hadn't eaten all day. He checked the time and realized Hermione had not come back before dinner as originally promised. In fact, dinner had started 5 minutes previous.

Checking his clothes to make sure he was presentable, Draco set off for the Great Hall. He refused to look at her as he took his seat at the end of the table and started filling his plate. He refused to look at her when he distinctly heard her voice calling him an insufferable prat and the voice of the female Weasley agreeing. He also refused to watch her as she stormed out of the Great Hall, Neville Longbottom calling out for her to come back.

Draco finished his meal having tasted none of it. He couldn't tell you a single dish that had been served. His anger and his fear and his shame were a ball in the pit of his stomach that made enjoying his meal impossible. As soon as he could do so without drawing attention, he left, heading towards the dorm that he hoped Hermione had decided to avoid again so he could set it to rights before she saw it.

When he stepped into the room the first thing he noticed was that it was clean, all furniture repaired, including his own bedroom set, and all pictures had been removed from the wall. The second thing he noticed was that the witch surely responsible was not present, nor were her things as her room was stripped bare and returned to the state it was given to her in, basic furniture and no personal touches. She had moved out.

The final thing he noticed was a box, piled high with pictures of writhing women and grunting men torn from magazines. Atop the pile was a single piece of parchment on which the witch had scrawled:

Mr. Malfoy,

This box was my revenge on Ron when he dumped me. I took his collection of wizarding pornography, all featuring witches who look nothing like me, knowing he couldn't very well ask anyone if they had seen it and would never expect me of knowing about it, let alone taking it. I thought it was quite clever of me to leave him without his wanking material since he left me because I wouldn't be around to fuck anymore and he wanted to be able to pursue other avenues of relief.

Do I think these are the actions of a lady? I notice you didn't ask if I thought they were the actions of a gentleman, even though most of these pictures contain wizards also engaged in these acts and some of them contain more than one wizard! I wonder if it is considered gentlemanly for 6 wizards to share 1 witch, as is depicted in the topmost picture.

Regardless, men and women, witches and wizards, are the captains of their own ship. They can do whatever they like with their bodies as long as there is consent. Perhaps you should reflect on your own actions since the four pictures underneath that top one all depict acts you, yourself, have done with me within the last few days.

If I'm a whore, sir, so are you.

Kindly Fuck Off,

Hermione Granger

P.S. I hope you enjoyed playing with my underwear. You will never see them again, I assure you.

Draco dropped the letter, grabbing the top few photos from the stack and glancing through them. The first did depict 6 wizards and only 1 witch. The witch was lying supine atop one wizard who had his cock buried in her back hole, while a second filled her front. Two more were being fisted by the curvy blonde while her head bobbed up and down on another's erect prick before turning to the other side and lavishing oral attention on the sixth's.

The following pictures were like a timeline of their own interactions together. The first picture in the timeline depicted a buxom blonde with her body balled underneath a wizard who was thrusting hard and fast into her. The second picture clearly showed a wizard on his knees in a shower with his face buried in a witch's snatch. This witch was also very curvy and quite blonde. The third showed another blonde with impossibly large breasts, impossible for her tiny waist anyway, being pounded from behind. She was bent over the side of a tub, not a shower stall, but it was close enough. The final picture showed another statuesque blonde witch sitting backward in a wizard's lap, riding him like a bull.

He wondered why there wasn't a picture of their final encounter. Perhaps there wasn't one that showed something that slow and tender. Or maybe she didn't equate that act with any of these. Or maybe she didn't want that act to be portrayed as the act of a whore, as he had apparently portrayed the others. Draco didn't know. He just knew that he had fucked up the only halfway decent thing he had ever had, even if he had only had it for a few days. How he was going to fix it…fuck if he knew that either…but he wanted to fix it.

Remembering what the witch had said earlier, tried to make him hear earlier, Draco left his rooms. A short walk, a loud knock, and he was staring at the face of Neville Longbottom. At least, until he was staring at the fist of Neville Longbottom. Then he stared at nothing but the blackness behind his eyelids for a while.

Coming to a few minutes later, Draco was surprised to find himself in a common room with a roaring fire, comfortable couches, very male décor, and a very tall, newly handsome wizard with one hell of a right hook. The other boys must not have returned yet or Longbottom had sent them on their way. Either way, Draco was grateful.

He opened his mouth to thank the Gryffindor for his discretion but what came out was, "Is she here? Do you have her?"

"Have her?" Neville repeated. "Like she's a pet you lost? No, I don't have her and for your peace of mind, I never had her. She asked to be moved back to Gryffindor Tower."

"So, I'll go there then," Draco decided as he sat up, groaning at the pain in his temples but determine to carry on.

"No use. They told her 'no' so she isn't there. I don't know where she is, if that's why you came here. And I probably wouldn't tell you, if I did."

"Actually, Hermione said you were a good listener and I need one of those right now. I fucked up. Badly. Colossally, actually, and I want to fix it but I don't know how." Draco swallowed his pride and waited for the lion to seal his fate.

"Start by apologizing," Neville answered.

"If that's what I have to do," Draco relented. "I'm sorry, Longbottom, for calling you bumbling, and useless, and an idiot and for underestimating you…"

"Not to me, you prat!" Neville interrupted. "To her. If you can find her. Honest and genuine apology is the way to go with Hermione. She is incredibly forgiving."

"I thought…"

"You thought my price for helping you was for you to humble yourself? I'm not a Slytherin. We don't operate that way. You admitted you made a mistake and are trying to fix it. So, I'll help as much as I'm able. And that's the extent of my ability, by the way. So, nice chatting with you, but I suggest you make yourself scarce before the others get back and pummel you into dust."

"Do they know what I did?" Draco was getting angry again.

"No, they just don't like you," Neville answered with a laugh.

Draco acknowledge him with a nod of his head and stood, turning to the door. He paused, thought a moment, and turned back to the other man. "Keep listening to her. She needs someone like you. She isn't as ok as she is trying to make everyone think. She's no ok at all, actually. And if she won't talk to me, well, she might talk to you."

Neville's eyes widened a bit before some thought must have struck him because he nodded as if he had just come to some realization and then looked back to Draco. "You might try Ravenclaw tower. Or Hagrid's old hut."

Taking the information for the boon it was, Draco smiled briefly and went to find his witch.