Draco found himself wandering across the grounds toward the Quidditch pitch. The sun was shining, and the air was crisp, and Draco had a sneaking suspicion that a certain red-head would be out practicing for the team.

The sky was empty when he made it to the stands, but he wasn't deterred. Letting himself into the Gryffindor locker rooms with a wave of his wand, Draco found Weasley easily at the well of lockers. No one else seemed to be around, but Draco cast a quick Muffilato and Notice-Me-Not charm just to be safe.

He approached the tall ginger with a sneer planted firmly on his aristocratic face. "Well, if it isn't the bumbling side-kick himself. Really think you've a chance to make the team this year, Weasel?"

Weasley jumped with surprise, before scowling viciously at Draco. "What do you want, Ferret?" he asked bitterly, before pulling his robes off over his head.

Draco smirked. "Nothing I haven't already had," he said, stepping closer to Weasley, waving his fingers under his nose so he could smell Granger still on them. "Bet you're just dying to know how your little Mudblood friend tastes."

Much to his amusement, Weasley pulled back violently, tumbling over the bench behind him and falling heavily on his arse. He stared up at Draco incredulously, his face flushed brighter than his hair.

"You're a bloody pervert, Malfoy," he spat out, fumbling awkwardly to his feet. "And I bet that's Pansy I smell on you, the little slut."

A crack rang out as Draco backhanded Weasley across the face. He fell back down to the floor gripping his cheek as he stared up incredulously at a furious Draco who was waving a finger in his big, dumb face.

"Don't you ever disrespect a proper Pureblooded girl like that again." His voice was low, menacing, and Weasley flinched away instinctively. Draco stepped forward to tower over the quivering man.

"On your knees, Weasel."

After only the slightest hesitation, Weasley complied, still gripping his slowly bruising cheek. His eyes widened comically when he saw Draco reach into his trousers. Draco presented himself to Weasley, pushing into the man's face even as Weasley made to turn away.

"I think this will be a just punishment for you, Weasel. Can you smell her? Can you smell Hermione on me?"

Weasley shook his head frantically, still turned away from Draco.

"Look at me, Weasel," Draco said sharply, his eyes boring into the side of the other man's head. Slowly, Weasley turned his head, lips pressed firmly together even as he breathed heavily out his nose.

Reaching out, Draco traced his hand down the unblemished cheek, smirking as Weasley seemed to lean into the touch.

"Oh, you want to taste her, don't you? Want to try something you're never going to have?"

Weasley shook his head again, despite his eyes remaining glued to what the blond was offering him.

"Come now, Weasley. It isn't as if she's ever going to return your affections." Weasley's eyes snapped up to meet his and he smiled down maliciously. "Why would smart, pretty Granger ever want you? I mean, hell. She so easily gave it up to me, but you? It's almost like she looks right through you isn't it?"

The blush on his cheeks was so high now, Draco could nearly feel it burning his sensitive skin. Weasley's eyes dropped back down, considering, and Draco smiled in victory. "Go on. Taste her. She would hate it if she knew. She doesn't have to know though. You'll know. And every time she talks down to you you'll remember how bitter the Mudblood really tastes."

Draco watched, fascinated as Weasley seemed to loose the internal struggle with himself. Tentatively at first, and then with more vigor, Weasley set to work washing him clean of anything that remained of his previous coupling with Hermione.

"That's right, Weasley. You like that, don't you? Better than anything that stuck-up prude could give you, huh? Want me to wash that nasty taste away?" Weasley grunted as he wove his fingers through his hair, pressing himself harder and deeper until he came with a shudder. The other man didn't fight him off, just as Draco knew he wouldn't.

Pulling away, Draco tidied himself. He glanced down at the red-head, noticing the dark wet stain on the front of his trousers before catching his eye and smirking at Weasley's utter mortification.

"Get dressed before someone sees you."

Weasley hurriedly pulled on his robes, even as Draco turned to walk away. He stopped as Ron called out to him. "Don't tell anyone, Malfoy."

Schooling his features into a blank mask, he glances back at the other wizard. "Oh, I wouldn't worry, Weasel," he said before continuing out the door. "Your secret is safe with me."