Shades of Grey

Chapter Ten: Touch

"I may never be happy, but tonight I am content."

- Sylvia Plath

They were always fighting these days. It seemed to Draco that no matter how hard he struggled to ignore her presence, she was always saying or doing something that pissed him off to no bloody end. Sometimes it was the way she phrased things-as though she were purposely holding back her true feelings on a particular matter; other times, it was the way she snubbed him or how she cooked the dinner. He'd get blamed for not picking out the freshest fruit for dinner, and was barked at for not contributing enough. To which he would bitterly reply and protest that he was, and added that if she managed to pull her bushy head out of her twat long enough, then she'd be able to see that.

Ever since the incident regarding their kiss, Draco had struggled to pretend as though she didn't even bloody exist. But when she confronted him one evening and he'd managed to explode on her, it became startlingly clear to the young Malfoy that ignoring her existence would be damn near impossible. She was a force to be reckoned with, and even he was able to detect that.

And yet, no matter what he did to try and correct the fucked up situation they'd placed themselves in, it appeared that it always ended in some ridiculous fight over one thing or another. Today, the pair were arguing over whether or not they should move camp-Granger had been paranoid that someone in the Forbidden Forest was watching them, to which Draco protested and claimed that it was impossible, what with their campsite being magically protected and such.

Still, though, the bloody Witch was relentless in her beliefs. In hindsight, though, had he honestly expected any different from her?

No. Of course not.

"I'm not bloody moving camp again!" Draco snapped, his lips curling back to bare his white teeth. A low hiss escaped his mouth as he glared at the frizzy-haired Witch who stood across from him, rage coursing through his veins. She was just...impossible! And that was a gross understatement!

"Oh, I didn't realize luxury was more important to you than our safety! Thanks for clearing that up, Malfoy!" Hermione snapped, sarcasm lacing her tone. Draco couldn't help himself-he rolled his eyes at such a comment, which proved to only infuriate his companion further.

"Oh, don't you roll your eyes at me, Draco Malfoy!"

"The last time I checked, Granger, I was at liberty to do whatever the hell I want. You're being ridiculous, that's all! And I never said that luxury was more important than our safety; I just don't see the point in switching camp sites again just because you're a little paranoid!"

Hermione growled in frustration at this, throwing her hands up as if in defeat. But to even believe she'd back down from an argument was far too optimistic; Draco knew her well enough at this point to understand that admitting defeat in a fight was something simply unheard of for stubborn little Hermione Granger.

What irritated him the most about this trait was that he was exactly the same way.

"Why do you have to fight me on everything?!" She continued, and he swore he could detect a hint of exhaustion in her voice. Not that he particularly blamed her, of course-the fighting was beginning to take a toll on him, as well. Just as he'd predicted it would back when Potter first gave the two of them this outlandish assignment in the first place.

"You're the one making mountains out of bloody mole hills, last time I checked," Draco growled in response, glaring at her with a heated expression. His face contorted itself into one of rage, and he could feel his fingers begin to twitch at his sides; a telltale sign of anger for him, as his mother had once pointed out during the peak of his youth. Hermione made no immediate response to his accusation, merely set her jaw and narrowed her brown eyes in his direction, giving him a haughty glare. One which he returned with just as much vigor, if not more.

"We're moving camp, and that's the end of that," She stated finally, jutting her chin forward in an act of defiance. Draco's temper flared at such a response, and he stepped forward, gritting his teeth together to suppress the urge to scream in her bloody face. His composure was dwindling, and he knew that he only had moments before he erupted like a damn volcano.

"No, we aren't-there's nowhere else for us to go, Granger."

"Of course there is! I-I'll show you, you vile little..." Hermione hissed, unable to even finish her train of thought. In a huff, she turned around and snatched her wand off the table, stomping out of the tent. The canvas flap opened and shut with a vicious snap, and Draco stumbled out of the tent after her, standing at the opening and calling after her.

"And just where the hell do you think you're going?!"

"To prove you wrong, Malfoy!" She shrieked, storming off into the woods and turning a sharp right.

Oh, for the love of...

He was impossible to deal with! She couldn't even speak with him about the simplest of matters without him blowing his top! It was as if...well, as if he was trying his damned hardest to make sure he opposed her on anything and everything! And knowing Malfoy, well...that prediction didn't seem too far-fetched to be a reality.

Perhaps that was what was most unsettling to Hermione.

Nevertheless, after evacuating the safety of their camp site, she'd been too upset to bother taking the normal precautions she did once outside the protective enchantments. She stalked through the barren floor of the forest, her shoes crunching dead and decaying matter as she went. Her wand was tucked safely within the confines of her pocket, and she grumbled angrily to herself as she ducked low branches.

That was it! She wasn't going to allow Malfoy to try and obtain control of situations any longer! She would-she'd find the perfect camp site for them! And that would show him! She gave a slight huff at this thought, her lower lip jutting out into a small pout as her brown brows knit together. She could be...stubborn-that was a personality trait she was already fully aware of-but...but Malfoy was just ridiculous about it! It was his way or the bloody highway! And Hermione just wouldn't accept that.

Determined to find a suitable, safe location for the pair to move camp to, she kept her gaze out for a clear opening, which was a lot more difficult than previously expected in this particular forest. She nibbled on her lower lip, deciding the density and proximity of the trees in this area of the forest weren't...spaced out enough for either one to comfortably set up tent in.

Slowly, she rounded the corner, her hand brushing against the rough trunk of a rotting tree as she searched for the perfect location. Despite her argument with Malfoy, she was still firmly rooted in her belief that their current site wasn't safe. Despite his...practical argument that their camp was, in fact, enchanted, that didn't mean they weren't being watched! Both she and Draco were valuable people, and if one of Bellatrix's followers-could they really even be called her own?-was to find one of them, then it would all be over. She and Malfoy would be as good as dead.

So, why couldn't he seem to grasp that?

Sighing in aggravation, she was making her way down a narrow path in a particularly thickly-wooded portion of the forest when she heard a noise. It sounded like a crackle of sorts; as though someone had stepped on a twig. She cast her gaze down to her feet, and though she kept herself still, she continued to hear the foreign noise. Suddenly, the realization that she was out in the open by herself hit her like the force of a million Stupefys. Her throat tightened as if on command, and she forced herself to steady her breathing. Her heart was thudding erratically against her rib cage, and her dark eyes scanned the dim forest floor as her hand slowly moved towards her pocket, where her wand was stowed. If she could grab the instrument unnoticed, then she'd be able to better defend herself against whatever it was that was so clearly creeping up on her.

She'd just barely managed to graze her fingers over the handle of her wand when she felt a very strong, very fleshy force grab her from behind. Letting out a high shriek, Hermione struggled to grab her wand, but a hand was clamping her arm down to her side. She couldn't see her attacker, who had chosen to sneak up on her from behind, and the young Witch struggled against the iron clad grip that held her close.

"Let me go!" She cried, her throat aching from the sheer force she was using to shriek at the creature who held her bound. She used her foot to kick her captor in the shin, and a very masculine grunt escaped her harasser as he staggered against her. For a blissful moment, the masculine figure released her, and Hermione fell forward with a triumphant cry. Rather than falling to the ground, however, she crashed into something solid and cloth-covered-pulling back, her eyes widened suddenly as she noticed a vaguely familiar, dirty figure towering above her.

Scabior the Snatcher.

"You," Hermione breathed, her throat aching as she backed up. Her spine stiffened immediately when she collided with a very firm being behind her. Merlin-she'd almost forgotten about the other man!

"Me," Scabior responded, giving her a toothy smile and stepping forward. Hermione's hand reached for her wand once more, but the Snatcher must have caught her quick movements and snatched the wand from her hands before handing it to his partner. Letting out a defenseless cry, Hermione's eyes grew wide. She had no wand. She had no one to help.

She was completely alone.

"What are you-doing here?" Hermione managed, feeling the press of the man who had first grabbed her press against her back. She could feel his hot, foul breath against her neck, and her nostrils flared slightly. Why, if she had her wand she would...she would...but she didn't have her wand, did she? Nevertheless, there were still actions that could be taken. She had to find a way to escape; she wasn't about to become some filthy fugitive's plaything!

"I think we could ask the same of you, Miss...what was it again?" Scabior asked, arching one dark brow slightly as he feigned ignorance of her name. She wanted to spit on him; she wanted to hex him into the next century. She stood tall, balling her hands into fists and waiting patiently as the man before her convinced himself that he held all the cards in their situation. She'd let him believe so-for now, at least.

"Granger, that's right," He continued, his grimy lips stretching into a sadistic smirk. Hermione held her head high; determined not to show the fear she felt coursing through her veins in that moment. "So far away from your cozy little dwelling, aren't you, love?" He stepped forward, severing the space between them, and lifted his hand. Hermione suppressed the urge to flinch, jerking her face away from his touch as one dirt-caked fingernail trailed across the fine points of her jaw.

She was surely going to be sick.

"Now-are you going to play nicely?" Scabior continued, referring to the instance during the War in which she, Ron, and Harry had been captured by the Snatcher and his band of rats. Even the mere recognition of such a memory was enough to have Hermione shuddering in disgust.

Rather than respond verbally to his inquiry, however, Hermione lifted her hand and clenched her hand tighter into the fist she'd formed. Blindly, Hermione swung at the man before her, hearing the satisfying crunch of bones under her fingertips as her hand made contact with his nose. Her hand ached from the impact of the blow, and as she heard Scabior scream out in pain, she shoved past him, the enemy's blood coating her knuckles and dribbling down her slender fingers. She ran for her life, her brown hair whipping behind her as she struggled to find a safe haven to hide behind. No such luck found her, however, for she hadn't gotten very hard when she felt something strong and large collide against her. Crying out in pain, Hermione stumbled over her feet and fell to the ground, bruising her ribs as her body collided painfully with the rough ground of the forest floor. Black spots corroded her vision, and she struggled to move to a kneeling position, but found that she was being held down. Grunting, she dug her fingers into the rough texture of the land, dirt caking her fingernails as she struggled to pull herself out from under the weight of whatever had fallen on her. She was certain she'd ripped the knee of her jeans and torn her sleeve in the process of falling, but…her tattered clothes were the least of Hermione's concerns at the moment

Just when she thought she'd freed herself, hands wrapped themselves around her waist and dragged her to stand. Whoever it was that was gripping her tight held her above the air, and Hermione found that she could do little else than scream in protest and thrash her limbs around wildly. This was to no avail, however-as the person carrying her slammed her against the trunk of a very large, very sturdy tree and magically bound her to the large plant, Hermione was able to blink the haze from her eyes and notice that the man who had fallen against her and carried her away was the first man who had attacked her-Scabior's accomplice.

Scabior himself was standing a few feet back, swearing under his breath and wiping the blood from his broken nose. Even in her state of capture, Hermione managed to smirk in triumph. Good; at least she'd injured the bloody bastard. Exhaling slowly, she struggled against her bonds, but it would appear that the more she tried to break free from the rope that bound her, the tighter its hold on her grew. Defeated, Hermione slumped against the tree, watching as Scabior and his unknown sidekick struggled to fix the man's nose. The filthy Snatcher let out a cry of agony when his friend tried to magically fix the bone, and Hermione could hear the crunch as the bone snapped back into place. Clearing his face of the drying blood, Scabior turned and glared hotly at Hermione, who jutted her chin forward in defiance. The man swaggered forward towards her, and the young Witch pressed herself further against the tree trunk, as if she could escape such close contact with him.

"The hard way it's going to be then, I see," He growled, baring his teeth at her. Hermione gulped once, biting on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She'd been in worse situations before-surely she could get out of this unscathed? She was no fool, though-she knew what the abomination of a man standing before her wanted to do with her (curses, she thought; plenty and plenty of curses), and she wished for nothing more than her wand in that moment. She wouldn't show weakness, oh no, but she wasn't going to make this any easier for the git.

Hermione watched, wide-eyed and terrified, as the man lifted his hands and ran them down Hermione's sides in a way that sickened her. She stiffened against him, jerking her face away as he pressed his lips against her ear.

"I always preferred the stubborn ones, anyways; makes the wandwork more fun," He murmured in her ear, and Hermione could feel her heart beating erratically against her rib cage. She bit her lip in humiliation when his hands grazed over her sides, growing stiff from head to toe as he analyzed her stiff form. It was mortifying, and Hermione's throat tightened as she fought the impulse to cry. But Merlin, was it difficult.

"Stop," She managed forcefully, shaking as Scabior's eyes moved to rest on her own. There was no remorse in his eyes; nothing but greed and hatred. A creature like him would never find it in himself to spare someone-especially not a Witch who had just broken his nose.

But she was strong-she'd been a Gryffindor, after all. She could make it through this; she would make it through this.

It had been far too long since Granger had left the comfort of their tent. Not that he was particularly interested in seeing her, however-he was still bloody pissed as hell at her for the fight they'd engaged in earlier. What was her insistence that they switch camp?! The Forbidden Forest was where they needed to be, and the fact that she was so intent on believing someone was watching them was just as infuriating. They were fine-she was just being her typical stubborn, paranoid self.

However, when she didn't return, Draco grew...what was the word? Not worried, of course, because...because he didn't worry about Granger! Concerned for her well-being, perhaps? Hmm, something along those lines, he decided. Either way, the fact that she still hadn't returned to their camp site disturbed him, and it was with a quick moment's deliberation before he decided that there really was only thing left for him to do-go and search for the hard-headed Witch. Grabbing his wand off the table and stuffing the copy of the map of the Forbidden Forest into his pocket, he exited the tent quickly. He'd managed to grab one of Granger's scarves off her bed, and as he passed through the shield of protective enchantments of their campsite, he pulled the long piece of cloth from his pocket and tied it to a nearby tree, that way he would remember the location of their camp by the time he'd returned.

With that being out of the way, Draco gripped the handle of his wand tighter and set out in search of his partner. His silver eyes scanned the dim forest floor, and he paid attention to the sound of his feet stepping over twigs and fallen leaves as he made his aimless trek through the forest. After walking for what felt like ages, he heard the collected murmur of voices. Halting immediately, Draco tensed up and moved to hide himself behind a rather sturdy-looking tree. He strained to hear the conversation, but could only make out bits and pieces. The voices were masculine, and didn't sound all too friendly. Either way, in that moment one thing became startlingly clear to Draco-he and Granger weren't alone in this forest.

Perhaps she'd been right, after all.

Inhaling sharply, Draco sprinted from the cover of one tree to the other, determined to find out the source of the noise. With each step the murmurs grew louder, and he could make out bits and pieces of muffled conversation-"rope" and "love" and "difficult" being the words he'd been able to make out clearest. Finally, he made out the silhouettes of three figures not too far from him, and as he ducked for cover behind another tree, his heart nearly stopped at the sight before him.

It was Granger. Granger tied to a tree, with two Snatchers closing in on her. One, whom he'd recognized as the filthy little worker who had brought the Trio to his house all those months ago, appeared to be the one in charge. Another, this one unfamiliar to him, stood a few feet back, as if to keep watch. He was closest in range to the young Malfoy, and Draco made sure to closely inspect the situation at hand before taking action. He felt his stomach turn sour as Scabior appeared to be...what? Interrogating Granger? Threatening her? He couldn't tell from this distance…he just knew he wanted to beat the filthy Snatcher to a pulp. He didn't know why he felt this way-perhaps it was because that no one, not even Granger, deserved to be handled in such a manner.

His gaze then turned on the accomplice, and he noticed a thin piece of wood sticking out of the man's pocket, and Draco noticed the make and design of the wand nearly instantly. It was Granger's. Slowly, he lifted his wand and pointed it at his companion's, which was stuffed loosely into the troll of a man's pocket. Under his breath, he mumbled a quick Accio, and the wand flew from the man's pocket and Draco made quick to grab it before it collided with the ground. Stuffing Hermione's wand into his pocket, Draco aimed his wand again, pointing it at the skull of the man closest to him.

"Petrificus Totalus," He whispered, and the man stiffened immediately. With a choked cry, he teetered back and forth on his feet, falling to the ground with a loud thud. At this noise Scabior turned around, and Draco saw in this brief moment that Granger's shirt had been torn down the middle. Merlin, if he'd been any later...

"Who's there?" Scabior demanded, his eyes scanning the forest. Draco snapped himself out of his thoughts, deciding that this was his time to act. Lunging forward, Draco bounded towards the man, whose eyes grew wide in shock. Draco snarled at the vile man, raising his wand and deflecting a sloppy curse that the Snatcher had thrown in his direction.

"Stupefy!" Draco yelled, and the filthy Snatcher was sent flying backwards. He collided with the tree, falling down and sagging limply against the trunk. Curling his lip up into a snarl, Draco stepped forward, panting slightly and pointing his wand directly at the man's chest.

"Petrificus Totalus," He repeated, and Scabior stiffened immediately, his eyes wide and frozen as they appraised the young Malfoy. In his petrified state, he could cause no further harm to either Draco or Hermione, yet this didn't correct the anger that the young Wizard felt coursing through his veins. Unable to stop himself, he lifted his foot back and kicked the man in the ribs once, twice, three times.

"That's for thinking it's acceptable to speak to her, much less touch her," Draco spat, lifting his foot up to kick Scabior once more. He'd nearly succeeded when a scream knocked him from his concentration, and he turned to face Granger quickly, who was panting against the tree she'd been tied to.

"Malfoy, just...let it go-it's fine," She managed, her brows furrowed in worry and her eyes wide in astonishment. Hesitantly, Draco made his way over to her, undoing the bonds that held her against the tree. As the ropes snaked to the ground she sagged against him, and Draco pulled her wand from his pocket and handed it to her. She was far too weak to make it back to camp on their own, and so Draco hesitantly slung her arm across his shoulder and aided her in moving back to the camp site. It had been the most contact he'd had with her since the incident of their kiss, and as much as he knew that she needed support at the moment, he was sorely tempted to shuffle away from her.

Nevertheless, the pair made the trek back to their camp site in silence; Draco exhaling in relief when he spotted the scarf of hers he'd tied to a tree. Crossing the threshhold into their camp, he led Hermione into the tent. Once inside, she released herself from him, moving to sit down on her cot. She stared at the ground, expressionless and hunched over. He didn't know how to correct the situation, and as Hermione wrapped the ripped remains of her clothing more tightly around her figure, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow for her. She'd almost...well...he didn't even want to think about it.

Silently, Draco kicked his shoes off, moving to sit down on his own bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair, settling on staring at her. She lifted her gaze after a few moments, and for a series of minutes there was nothing but the sound of their breathing to fill the silence that overwhelmed the room. He kept his gaze locked on hers, and she stared at him in return-almost as if she was searching for something in his eyes.

Draco parted his lips to speak-to say something that would fill the unease that had settled over them. An inquiry as to how she was holding up, perhaps, or an agreement that it would be best if they were to switch camps. No sooner had he opened his mouth to express such sentiments, however, than Hermione was clearing her throat and speaking over him.

"You saved me, Malfoy," She said quietly, her voice barely rising over a hoarse whisper. Draco's throat tightened suddenly at her words, and he swallowed the budding knot in his throat, unable to respond to her immediately.

"No, Granger, not saved you, I-" He began, finding that he lacked the appropriate vocabulary to accurately convey the tumultuous emotions raging through him at present.

"Yes, Draco, you did," Hermione repeated, a bit more sternly this time. Draco's eyes widened when his mind processed the fact that she'd just addressed him by his first name and he watched, entranced as she stood and slowly moved towards him. She stood before him now, her fingers clutching at her shirt in a futile attempt to hold the tattered strip of clothing together. Hesitantly, she moved to sit in his lap so that she faced him, resting her legs on either side of him. Draco froze in his seat, but made no move to shove her off of him.

Not yet, at least.

She gazed at him intensely, her hands lifting slowly to cup his face. Her movements were hesitant and uncertain, and although Draco was beside himself, he couldn't muster the strength to tell her to bugger off and go to bed.

"Touch me, Malfoy," She whispered suddenly, and Draco swore he felt his heart sputter for a moment. He quirked one brow in her direction, bemused as Granger's hands trailed down the length of his arms to take his hands in her own.

"What are you doing, Granger?" Draco asked slowly, confused as to whether or not she'd lost her bloody mind. "Back there, in the woods, you were almost...and he could have killed you...but, I didn't..."

He was unable to finish his sentence as Hermione slowly brought his hands up. She was so bloody nervous, that much he could tell in her movements, and after several moments of deliberation, she pressed his hands against the soft, bra-clad mounds on her chest.

"I don't want to think about that, Malfoy; I want you to...yes. Touch me, I mean." To her credit, she at least managed a blush when she spoke these words.

She...wanted him to? So many things were left unsaid, and though Draco knew he had every right as to inquire why she was suddenly being so forward, he had to admit that at present, he didn't particularly give a damn. He'd suppressed the urge to reach out and touch her for so long, and here she was-presenting it to him. Nodding once, he lifted his hands out from under her hold, moving to grip the collar of her shirt. Slowly, he pulled the torn material from her body, revealing the creamy expanse of her torso to his hungry gaze.

"And one more thing, Malfoy."

"Hmm?" He inquired, lifting his gaze to rest on her brown eyes.

"Don't treat me like some sort of delicate flower; I'm...I'm not."

Draco had no idea where this sudden bout of sensuality came from, or why she wanted him to handle her roughly, but he was hardly about to protest to her wishes. Leave it to Granger to declare her strength and endurance at a time like this.

"Of course not, Granger," He mumbled, reaching down to grip her by her waist. Turning roughly, he pressed her down onto his cot, moving to straddle her. He was less hesitant in his actions now, caught up in the aura of lust that had surrounded him. Bending down, he captured her lips in his own, and this time, there was significantly less uncertainty in their kiss. Granger's lips parted for him almost instantly, and his tongue twirled and danced around hers in a struggle for dominance as he pressed his body against her own.

Draco, more skilled in this area than the Witch splayed beneath him was, moved to release her breasts from the confines of her bra. He unhooked the material from the back and shimmied the flimsy thing down her arms before discarding it to the side. All the while, his mouth was working hot and sloppily against her own. He handled her with a sort of sloppy care-his hands groped at her breasts and he squeezed her nipples once; an action that caused her to mewl in delight. Moving to press his pelvis against her own, Draco began to grind his clothed cock against her core, which elicited a pleased moan from the Witch. Hermione spread her legs wider, gladly welcoming the sensation of his budding erection pressed against her knicker-covered cunt, and the comprehension that she was enjoying this just as much as he was comforted him.

Hermione lifted two trembling hands to fumble with Draco's sweater, grabbing fistfuls of the soft fabric and struggling to pull it overhead. Draco aided her, tearing the shirt from his body and moving it aside. His lips latched onto hers once more, and Hermione used this time to dig her nails into his back. The sensation, while slightly painful at first, felt pleasurable in a manner that Draco himself couldn't quite comprehend, and a low hiss escaped the Malfoy Heir's lips in reponse.

Prying his mouth from Granger's, Draco panted slightly as his hands made work of tearing her trousers off. He undid the button of her jeans and yanked the stiff material down, during which time Granger kicked the trousers the rest of the way off. Eagerly, she reached for the snap of his trousers, fumbling around with the button for a few moments before successfully undoing it. She yanked his dark trousers down to his thighs, pausing instantaneously and gaping at Draco's erection, which was straining against the confines of his boxers. Slowly, Draco lifted one hand to grip her own, guiding her to the elastic band of his underwear. Slowly, Hermione dragged his boxers down, swallowing heavily at the sight of his cock springing free.

Intrigued, Hermione's eyes lifted to meet his own again, and she wound her arms around him once more.

"Keep going, Malfoy."

Nodding once in agreement, Draco dipped his head to suck on the vulnerable and exposed skin of Hermione's neck. She mewled in response, a soft and feminine sound that Draco found himself shockingly pleased to hear. His hands trailed down to grip the band of her knickers, and he jerked the material down roughly, discarding of them before kicking his own trousers and boxers out of the way.

With nothing separating the pair now, Draco pressed himself against Hermione, relishing in the sensation of her warm skin pressed against his own. The touch sent a series of shudders up and down the length of his spine, and he gave a soft moan in response as she hesitantly wrapped her legs around his waist.

Draco deliberated for another moment, uncertain as to whether or not this was the right thing for him to do. Tearing his lips from her own, he forced her to look at him, his cock pressed against her weeping entrance.

"You're sure this is what you want?" He inquired, his gaze set on hers. After a moment of silence, she nodded once, tightening her legs around him. Exhaling slowly, Draco shifted his hips, sinking into the writhing Witch beneath him. He knew that this was the first time she'd ever engaged in anything so...carnal, and as he stretched her tight entrance, he could do little else than moan in response and grip the sheets underneath him. It took all the strength he could manage not to pound into her right away; he knew that she'd take some time to adjust, and judging by the way her jaw slacked and her eyes widened, she too was aware of this realization.

"Just...just-just a moment, Malfoy," She murmured, her cheeks growing crimson as she shifted underneath him. Draco panted, bending and focusing on nibbling at her collar bone as she adjusted to the feeling of him so deep inside of her. After a few moments of silence, Hermione gripped Draco by the hair and lifted his head, her eyes alight with lust.

"Okay," She breathed, nodding once.

"Hard?" He inquired, unsure as to how she wanted him to handle her.

"Yes, Malfoy, just-now. Please."

Understanding implicitly what she meant, Draco mounded his back and stuffed himself further inside of her. He felt her cunt contract around his stiff length, and with a pleased cry he slammed his lips against hers once more, drowning out their moans in each other's mouths. Hermione lifted her hips, angling to receive him better as he pounded into her.

"Malfoy-Malfoy," She panted, ripping her mouth from his. She arched her back off the bed, her moans growing high and keening as she wrapped her arms tighter around him. She clawed at his back, digging crescent-shaped grooves into the tender, pale flesh of his backside as he began to slam into her rougher than before. With each snap of his pelvis against her own, he felt himself slide deeper into her tight entrance. Merlin, this was...like nothing he'd experienced. The press of her breasts against his own; the sensation of her fingernails marking his back and her mouth hot and fervent against his own...it was what he'd always imagined sex being like. Not cold and emotionless, but like...this. Lust and passion-filled. Hot and quick; intense and desirable. He mounded his back once more, panting against her lips and slamming his hips against her own once more. He was certain he'd be covered in claw marks and bruises by morning, but he couldn't seem to find it within him to give a damn.

It was with a particularly rough jerk that Hermione pulled back from him, her eyes growing wide and astonished. He watched her closely, one alabaster hand tangling in her bushy locks as his hot breath stirred across her face. She clawed at him helplessly, her mouth twitching slightly as though she was struggling to convey something to him.

"Mal-Draco; Draco! Draco, I-" She managed, her voice high and keening. With a gasp and a moan, Draco felt her body twitch beneath him, and the proof of her release was suddenly coating his cock. She grasped at him, desperate and lost to pleasure as she succumbed to her first orgasm. The noises that fell from her lips were lust-filled and delicious to hear, and Draco continued to slam his hips against her own as she came, aiding her in riding out her orgasm before endulging with his own. His muscles were taut and his jaw was clenched tight as he rode her, and with each jerk of his hips, his hands gripped the bed sheets beneath him even tighter.

Unable to resist the urge to release himself any longer, Draco felt the budding knot behind his navel grow and build; tightening until it jerked loose. He cried out in pleasure as he felt his hot, throbbing cock twitch and release itself inside the writhing Witch. The sensation of him spilling himself inside of her elicited another moan from Hermione, and she snapped her hips against his own shamelessly as he gave way to pleasure. His eyes widened and his lips parted, unintelligable noises tumbling past his lips as he allowed himself to give way to pleasure. It was an excruciating orgasm, truly, and Draco couldn't help but feel relief as he began to wind down from such a powerful release.

Panting and restless, he slumped against Hermione, momentarily forgetting who it was that he'd engaged in such a sinful act with. He rested his head against her chest, slipping out of her and closing his eyes for a brief moment. It wasn't until he felt warm and velvety lips press a soft kiss to his temple and a pair of dainty hands massage his head that the full weight of what he'd done fell against him.

He'd fucked Hermione Granger.

And what was even worse was the realization that he'd do it again.

a/N: Thank you all for taking the time to wait for me to update! I really don't have an excuse as to why it was so late this time, aside from the fact that I haven't felt much motivation to as of late. I've been looking forward to this chapter since I first started the fic, so I really hope you all enjoy it! As usual, review and let me know what you think! Hope you're all doing well!