"My itch" the pale boy mumbled to himself as he sat poised on the couch, pillow behind his head and blanket over his knees, "My itch needs to be scratched."

Reclined on the soft cushions on the couch, he remained where she had left him; poised beneath the heavy woollen blankets waiting for her to re-enter his sight. The minutes seemed like hours; every last second dragging through time since she left him. Every sound she made rang through his ears; every breath she took seemed to suck from his own lungs. He could barely wait for her; he ached to find her, search for her and to make her his own again, but he knew that he must wait. She had to come back; it was inevitable; she would come back to him in good time. In good time she would scratch his urgent itch, in good time a love potion won't be needed. So patiently, he waited.

When she walked through the door, he felt as though he was about to pass out from delight. His heart was thumping quicker than ever before, his eyes felt glued open, his lips remained intimately closed. Reaching to remove the weight of the woollen blanket he felt his hands shaking and quickly formed a fist to hide his nervousness. Taking deep breaths, he willed himself to calm down, to not stress. He had, after all, done this before, only last night, this was nothing new to him; she still loved him like she did yesterday. Letting the blanket slide ceremoniously to the floor, he swung his bare feet onto the cold stone floors, relishing in the fact that she would soon be his. Soon it would be her naked flesh pressed against the very floor his feet were resting on; soon they would be together like never before.

He could see her moving closer to him, he could hear the whisper of her footsteps; the sound of her heart beating as it dexterously pumped blood through her body. Every breath that she took rattled his very own; every movement she made pushed their bodies closer together. As she walked across the room, he was hypnotised by the way her hair bounced with every step; how the light emitted from the fire in the hearth highlighted the different colours in her eyes. His eyes were drawn to the way the top button on her shirt was undone and how her sleeves were rolled up to show her white unmarked arms; his hands throbbed to touch where her skirt had slid down to rest on her hips; to feel the milky white skin showing between the material of her clothes.

Her stockinged feet stepped even closer, and he felt as though he could take it no more. He could now smell her perfume as it lingered in the air around her; he was mesmerised by her, he needed to touch her, to feel her, anything, he just needed be near her. He needed her like he had never needed before; nothing could substitute for her, not the most beautiful woman in the world, not the largest sum of money; she was all he wanted, all he needed. He wanted to feel her pushed up against him; he wanted to feel her breath on his skin. He wanted to have her mouth on his; he wanted to be inside of her again.

Reaching out to touch her, his breath caught in his throat when she pulled away. Her body awkwardly leaned away from his touch, as though rejecting the thought that he could, would, touch her. Looking deep into her eyes as he reached for her again, leaning forward slightly, but he saw nothing more than the hate that once resided there. Loathing lay deep within her gaze as she looked down at him with discontent, her entire demeanour had changed. It was as though the potion had stopped working, which was impossible; it simply could not have occurred. It was supposed to stay active for another day; he was meant to have her for longer than this. She was still supposed to be his, she was still supposed to love him, feel for him; not hate him.

"How could you?" she asked as she stood beyond his reach, her hands on her hips, "How could you do this to me? To us?"

He was befuddled by her words, by her actions, by her. It was simply impossible that she would know about the potion; impossible that she would no longer be effected by its powerful persuasion. She should be melting into his touch, sighing as his eyes travelled over her sumptuous flesh. Instead, it was as if she had known all along; as if she had been hiding her actions behind the potion she never consumed. As though she wanted to blame her actions on something, someone else, but that was wrong. She had eaten the chocolates, he saw the empty packet in the bin; he had felt her body beneath his own only twenty-four hours ago.

Knowing he would get no where by arguing with her, he decided to agree that he had done something, because after all, he had. She would never discover that he had used a potion; she would never suspect a thing. More than likely, she thinks he was off with another girl, some slut that worships him the way she should, so he decided to plead for mercy. He needed to pledge his forgiveness, use sweet words; anything to make her forget, anything to get her back within his reach.

"I thought of us Hermione," he replied his eyes intently boring into hers, "I want you, I need you — I love you."

As these words left his mouth, tears formed in her eyes but were quickly replaced with passion as she waved her arms in desperation; her brows furrowing together as she stared at him with disbelief. Her mouth was twitching at the corners, and her chest was moving deeply as she breathed in the same air as him. Lifting her hands several times, she moved forward slightly, indecisively moving closer to him. He knew he had done it, just those three little words that every girl wanted to hear had fixed his dilemma. There was no need for tears, no need for begging; his good ole Malfoy charm had prevailed again. She was his.

"Us? — You love me?" she whispered, her full lips moving around each word as she continued to stare into his eyes.

As she moved closer still, her scent was slowly driving him insane. He hadn't contemplated this in his plan, he hadn't realised she would want this slow. He had just presumed she would want fast, rough sex, none of this 'love' stuff that girls swoon over. He needed her now, not in fifteen minutes, there was no time to kiss her softly, to tickle her neck, fondle her; he was desperate. The blood was flowing through his body, thumping in his head, and pulsating in his penis. His throat was closing in angst; waiting for her, making it hard to breathe, making him want her more. Focusing on her, he could feel his stomach muscles contracting, and he knew to never use that four letter word again.

Watching as she painfully leaned closer, he waited until he could count the freckles on her nose before pushing himself up and pressing his lips against hers. As he gently pushed her lips apart with his tongue, he let his hands pull her closer to him, letting them tantalisingly free her skin from their binds. As each piece of clothing was taken from her skin, his hands roamed over the exposed skin, feeling the smoothness of her membrane, his mouth never leaving hers. Above him, she seemed oblivious to her near naked state, unaware of what she was doing. She barely seemed to notice her bra missing and his hands cupping her breasts; or her hands pulling down the zipper on his pants.

Pulling his mouth away from hers, he titled his head and scraped his teeth along the exposed skin of her neck, making her moan as she rubbed her hands down his chest and beneath his boxers. As her hands ran over his pulsing penis, grabbing it softly in her small hand; he stifled a moan before roughly discarding of the remainder of her clothes and plunging his fingers into the wetness between her legs. As his fingers trailed as soft as feathers in places she never imagined to be touched, her fingers flexed around him before she withdrew her hand to remove the final piece of material stopping them.

Before the waistband of his boxers had reached his ankles, he had her legs spread and was poising above her, teasing her. The want was in her eyes as she stared up at him incredulously, the need was in her hips as they pushed upwards to take him into her. Pressing his lips back down onto hers, he let his tip rest against her opening, making her wait, pulling back every time she moved closer. Smirking as he looked down at her, he knew he had power over her, she wanted him the way he needed her, and he could walk away right now; unwrap himself from her arms and calmly walk away leaving her like that. But, offcourse he wouldn't, couldn't, do that after waiting for so long.

Waiting until he felt he could wait no more, he brusquely entered her, pushing himself as far as he could go, until he was buried in her, unable to go any further. He watched as her eyes rolled back into her head, as she gasped with surprise; then sighed when he shifted. Slowly he withdrew, careful to never completely leave her, and drove himself into her again and again, watching as she thrashed beneath him, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Continuing, he let himself go; his hands were resting on either side of her as he thrust into her, not bothering to do anything but to please himself. He needed to do this; it was for their own good.

Thirty minutes later…

He was sedately lying beneath her, his breath still slightly laboured; his itch satisfactorily scratched. Her legs were tangled among his own, his arms possessively held around her waist. Around them, clothing was strewn on the floor where it had fallen haphazardly in their frenzied mating. The pillows once donned on the couch had been discarded on the other side of the room, thrown harshly at the wall when they had gotten in the way; the blanket remained on the floor untouched by the horny teens. Together, they looked like the perfect couple; a couple that had been in love for years; it didn't look like the kind of love manufactured in a cauldron.

Looking up at her, he inspected her face, peering into her sleepy brown eyes as her head rested on his chest and her once smooth hair matted dangerously close to his face. He no longer minded her crazy hair that frizzed, or her book-worm ways that never landed her in trouble; they were what made her, just as hating him did. He wouldn't change the way she looked, the way she thought, the way she felt about him when the potion was in affect for anything in this mortal world. They were the perfect pair, they fit together perfectly; their intellect was matched by no others, their beauty never rivalled; she should in every reality be his; every reality except this.

In every sense it was wrong for her to be lying here; wrong for her to think she was hopelessly in love with him. It just wasn't right, but he needed her. Without her, he was never going to be whole, without her, he would just die. To let her go would kill him slowly; twisting his insides slowly until the love had bled slowly from his damaged heart leaving nothing but hate. To live without her was unthinkable; there was no way it could ever happen. There was no way he could ever give her up, no way that he could let her go. He loved her and she had to love him back.

Howdly there:D I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter too and don't forget to review, I've been sooo pleased with the response I've gotten on this story, so I shall like to thank all of my reviewers, and those who put it on alerts and favourites :D (23 REVIEWS!! 6 FAV'S!!!! 15 ALERTS!!!!), so I now shall name those to whom I hold gratitude too...weeping eyes of babylon, socks and tea cosys, Glamrockprincess, Dark x Sorrow, DaOnleeSam, cutiexoxo, blondeferretgirl, Panther Eyes, superuki, mysticpammy, Blood-in-the-Stars, Viktor Krums lazyllama101, blondie 101, laffytaffy, Sam, dee, Rae, Dizi 85, dracoshoney1...thankyou for reviewing my story soo far!!!! I love you all!! (hopefully I didn't miss anyone...)

Mwah

Queen of the Scoubies