The Bastard

By N0b0dY

Rated XXX (you know it)

Summary:

Part I

The Bastard.

She hated him with a passion. She loathed him. She was disgusted by his presence. Because he was and always will be one thing to her.

The bastard.

The bastard who bloody ruined her life and fucked it all up so bad, she could hardly stand it anymore. He was responsible for everything. Every single thing. Every single fuck up. Every single screw up.

She supposed the vehemence could go away for a while. But the disbelief? She didn't think so…

Oh Sweet Merlin…she wished she could just forget that she had seen anything at all. Just forget that anything had happened. Yet, she knew she was acutely aware of every glance that flitted across the Great Hall. The hair on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably.

She bristled unhappily. Ron noticed. Lords, one of the most ominous omens. Ron noticing. Ron noticing anything. It meant something strange was afoot. She sighed, pulled her bag up and left the Great Hall.

She couldn't stand looking at Harry anymore.

XXX

She remembered the very first time she saw it.

She remembered it as if it were yesterday…as if it were happening right before her eyes, as if no time had passed at all since she first saw them.

She grimaced.

Every night before she went to bed, she thought of it. Every morning she woke up dreaming about it. Why did she decide to go to the Quidditch changing rooms that day? Why?

Oh, that's right. Because she had wanted to shake Ron off. And the idiot, even though he loved Quidditch, would've avoided it. Even Harry would've Hermione, because you have made it clear you hate Quidditch, she told herself.

But Harry was in the changing rooms

And he was not alone.

And she couldn't take her eyes off the sight of it.

Two of the most alike and yet so unalike boys.

Tussling on the floor.

Wrestling, pushing, hitting as hard as they could.

Bones clashed, fists flew, teeth gnashed, they used everything they could to harm each other. She stood transfixed, watching, unable to move, unable to think, unable to stop staring and unable to breathe. Then finally, the reaction, she least expected, the one that shook her out of her reverie.

Laughter.

She stared as the two boys lay on the floor, by each other too sore to move, beaten, black-eyed, bloody-nosed, probably even broken-boned, just laughed. They lay on the floor and just laughed.

Finally one of them spoke, 'Damn, Potter, you're good.' He murmured still chuckling.

'You're not too bad either,' Harry conceded, grinning.

'Not too bad, eh?' the other one cackled, wincing as he hoisted himself up on his elbow and dragged himself closer to Harry. Hermione stared transfixed at her best friend. He was still smiling and his eyes were closed. His muscles rippled slightly as he took a deep breath and his skin glistened in that oily way that seemed sensual. She shook herself. What was wrong with her?

The other boy had reached Harry. He pulled himself over and swung his legs on either side of Harry, grunting with the effort that it took.

She gasped.

She couldn't help it. The boy was going to punch a grinning Harry square in the face. But what he did next made her gasp again.

He kissed Harry.

It was one of the hottest, most desperate, most turning on, most erotic kiss she had seen. Two bruised, beaten up, beautiful boys. Lips touching, she almost felt the sliding as the soft skins touched. Tongues hot, aggressive, wrestling, moving, fighting for dominance for control, for power. Mouths open, hungry, receiving, giving, touching. Sweet Merlin. Sweet Merlin.

She stared hungrily, ashamed to find that her mouth was hanging unattractively open. Her fingers were pressed together, between her thighs that she had pressed close. Her fingers were shaking, itching almost. She could feel it. The desire to feel, the hunger so deep within her, it even shocked her slightly.

The boys broke apart gasping for air. The other boy didn't seem to have the energy to move even. He just prized his lips off of Harry's and lay slumped over him. Harry for his part, had his arms circled around the boy. She watched as they panted as one being. Whole, complete, joined, touching together.

Then the boy spoke.

'I tasted your blood, Potter.' He murmured, his voice muffled in Harry's neck.

'I know. I was bleeding.' Harry replied.

Hermione stiffened at his next words.

'I think your cum tastes better.' The boy said and she heard a lusty undertone.

Harry laughed. It was an awful, grating, raw, carnal laugh. This wasn't the Harry she knew laughing. This was some other Harry. It sounded the same. But it was still different. Then he spoke.

'If you like it so much you can have some.' He said.

And have he did.

They were practically naked anyway, so there were no clothes to strip. Hermione watched fingers thrust into her mouth to keep herself from making anymore noise. The boy slowly, lazily reached downwards, first letting his fingers wrap around Harry's already stiff, thickening shaft.

She bit back yet another gasp. Her best friend was hiding that under his pants? It was more than a little disturbing to say the least. And then, she was distracted by a deep, guttural moan that had escaped Harry's lips. His fingers bloody, raw and swollen were clutching the broken skin on the other boy's shoulders. He was clenching and unclenching his fingers almost spasmodically. He was flinching, his hips bucking head thrown back as his hair pasted on his sweaty forehead.

His purple-headed cock was beginning to weep under the other boy's determined ministrations. His tongue swept up and down, swirling across the tip, tracing patterns along its length. His mouth would close over it, sliding smoothly over the length, up and down and over and around.

His fingers had found the twin sacks between Harry's legs, fondling them almost playfully, gently.

Hermione watched and watched and watched. She had to stifle a whimper at every one of Harry's groans. She had to hold back a gasp at the beauty of the art before her. Naked bodies, beautiful, sweating, dirty, bloody on the muddy, grimy, sticky changing room floor. It was timeless. It was priceless. It was art.

And then Harry climaxed, back arching almost clean off the floor, he practically sat bolt upright. He came into the other boy's mouth. Hermione bit back a moan that almost crossed her lips. She swallowed worriedly.

Oh Gods.

To her utter shock, she found herself coming as well.

She looked down shamefacedly to find her fingers sticky, covered in her juices. She lay back watching Harry recover from his guttural, beautiful orgasm. Hers wasn't near halfway as good as his. She was jealous. Strangely.

Oh well, she supposed slipping one of her sticky juice-covered fingers into her mouth and then blushed. This was so unlike her.

Since that day, there was no going back.

She came everyday.

She watched everyday.

XXX

Until she was caught.

And she was caught today.

She remembered what it felt like to sit and watch Harry everyday. In those changing rooms and out here in front of everyone else. With Ron. She always had to hold herself back from saying anything if those two scuffled. Ron and Harry that is. She saw them wrestling the other day and wondered for a moment if Harry felt that way about Ron. After they fought, they fell about laughing, pretty much the same way.

But they hadn't hurt each other. No skin was broken, no blood was drawn. it was just a good natured fight between two boys; two best friends. As opposed to the passionate tangle of limbs between two lovers.

Oh, she got so confused.

She practically got wet every time she saw those two in the same room.

Did no one else feel the sexual tension in the air?

The stolen glances of lust mistaken for glances of spite.

The shoves as they passed each other not out of contempt, but desire to just feel each other, touch each other as they passed.

And then today…

She had been so careless. So stupid.

And it was him, that bastard, who had caught her.

She had taken her usual place behind a certain row of lockers and between two that offered her the best view possible (while still remaining hidden).

Oh Merlin, today's had been especially hot.

But they both left a little quickly. Harry was saying something about how he thought she was getting suspicious. He had no idea! Well, off-late she hadn't been able to take his eyes off him. He had a nice body…and he had quite nice eyes, quite nice, full lips, and quite a beautiful, mind-blowing dick.

Then she'd shake herself.

He's your best friend for God's sake!

And he also fucked pretty well.

Stop it!

She'd stare at her plate red-faced.

Anyway, so she let her legs unfold, since she heard them leave. For the first time, she sighed, she could recoup in peace.

And that was when everything went wrong.

'Granger!' he said almost gleefully.

She sat up so quickly that she bumped her head on the lockers beside her.

'What?' Harry said. Dear God, hadn't Harry gone? He said he was going. Why hadn't the idiot gone then? Ohgodohgodohogod…

'Potter would you come look at this.' The boy said gleefully, 'It's your best friend,' and for the first time she heard a note of disgust in his voice, 'And I wonder how long she's been here. How much she's seen, heard-'

'-Shut it,' Harry stopped him with gritted teeth. He had now reached where Hermione was sitting on the floor. He looked down at her, 'This is not what it seems like, Hermione. I-' he hesitated, 'Nothing happened.'

She nodded. Happy to receive any excuse. She knew the truth, maybe that's why she didn't want it.

'Sure,' the other boy sneered in contempt, 'You apathetic Gryffindors. Why can't you just tell the truth, Potter? Is it so despicable? You didn't seem to think so a few minutes ago-'

'-Please.' Harry said jerkily, 'Just-keep-out-of-this.'

'Why should I?' he said now sounding angry, 'It is my business as much as it is yours. I am involved whether you like it or not.'

Hermione stared.

'Say something, Hermione,' Harry pleaded. 'Say something. You-'

He broke off when he heard her gasp and also because the other boy had just sunk his teeth into Harry's neck.

Before Harry could retort angrily or tell him off or Hermione could say anything, he spoke, 'Just as I suspected. Granger already knows, Potter.' He let out a laugh, 'In fact, she likes it. And if I'm not wrong this isn't the first time she's seen us.'

Hermione turned red.

Harry stared.

'Oh, you pathetic twits.' The other boy groaned, 'I can't take it anymore!' he said in mock pain. 'How can you be so stupid?'

'I think I should leave.' Hermione mumbled picking herself up swiftly and trying to leave.

'Not so quick, mudblood,' he said grabbing her hand, unfortunately the one still wet, covered in her cum. She blushed and flinched when he let out a low whistle and then a cackle, 'What have we here?'

He thrust her hand towards Harry, 'See Potter, your princess is not so pristine, after all. And I said it earlier, one talk with her and she might just agree to be yours. But you,' he sighed heavily in mockery, 'are chivalrous and stupid to a fault. Well, now you know.'

Harry didn't say anything.

And Hermione blushed further at the revelation.

'Ah, the drama!' the other boy smirked, 'Anyway, Granger, I cannot have you talking about this to anyone. Not even Potter. What goes on in here does not have any relation to the outside world. Potter understands that, and you will do well to. Trust me.' His voice was sinisterly dark. He was truly scared about this getting out.

Hermione wrenched her hand free from his grasp.

'I'm leaving,' she said huffily, unsure of what to say really.

He didn't stop her.

But as she reached the door, he was there…

He had snuck up from behind her.

'What do you want?' she asked angrily, not looking at him. Harry was behind her at an utter loss. He didn't know what to say or do. It was all too confusing. He was still mulling over the fact that Hermione knew. And Hermione liked it.

'Granger, and you are supposed to be the smartest student.' He remarked dryly. 'Did you not hear me? I don't want you to go blab-'

'-Yes I bloody well heard you!' she shouted, 'Okay? I heard you the first time. I am not going to talk. You think I want to talk about this? Harry's my best friend and I-'

'-Can't stand that he's getting laid everyday and you're not.'

'That is not true!' she said shrilly.

'Easy, Granger, my eardrums.' The other boy said massaging his ears.

'Enough,' It was Harry who spoke. 'We need to talk, Hermione.' He then shifted his gaze to the other boy, 'You've done enough. I told you then; my friends were not something I was going to risk. Once they got involved, I would choose them over you, if need be. I said it almost a year ago. And it still stands true.'

The boy's pale face twisted in disgust and anger.

'Fine.' He muttered. 'Just so you know, Granger, you're a fuck up.'

'Hey-!' Harry started.

'What?' the boy's eyes narrowed, he looked defeated, 'There's nothing to lose now, Potter. If I insult her, you're going to fight me?' he sneered.

Harry looked torn. Fighting him seemed the right thing to do in the eventuality that he insulted Hermione, but he enjoyed a good, hard fight. He enjoyed it, loved it, and lusted for it. Those fights were the very fulcrum of this relationship. They started it. Would they ironically end it too?

'Hermione.' He took a deep breath and turned to her, 'We need to talk.'

'Yes, we do, Harry.' She said, 'We both,' she struggled for a second. Out with it, Hermione, she scolded herself, 'need to discuss and admit a few things.'

'Aha!' the other boy said triumphantly. 'Potter, she likes it. Get that into your thick skull.'

'Leave it.' Harry said rubbing his eyes, 'Just leave it.'

The other boy ignored him and crossed the distance between them. 'Granger, I dare you to hate this.' And then right there in front of her, they kissed. Harry struggled for a moment. And the boy pressed himself more forcefully against him.

Hermione fought a whimper.

It was beautiful. She felt herself grow warm and wet despite herself.

Finally Harry fought him off, 'Damn it! What the fuck do you think you're doing?'

The other boy eyes glazed, ignored him and looked at Hermione. 'Stick your hand between her legs. If it isn't an inferno dripping with her cum, I'll change my name, Potter.'

'Shut up.' Harry said faintly. He was watching Hermione, who had stepped closer. Her eyes were glazed too. Was that lust? Did she want them?

They were so alike. They were so unalike. Hermione couldn't think.

That kiss had thrown her off.

Blond hair, rivaling Harry's black. Pale skin against Harry's tan. Grey stormy eyes against Harry's lush green. Different.

Lean and wiry. Beautiful. Lovers. Alike.

She wanted.

Oh, she wanted.

She pushed herself against the other boy, 'So I am wet. I am hot and wet. I want the both of you inside. I dream every night of the two of you with me. Inside me, around me. Yes, I want it. I want the two of you. Not one, both.' She took a deep leveling breath to ignore both the boy's shocked expressions. They hadn't expected a confession. A revelation. An admission.

'Yes, I want to fuck both of you, Malfoy.'

She didn't just say that. Oh god.

It was all his fault.

The Bastard.