The Prefects' Bathroom

by ichi.ruki

A/U Lemons Ahoy! Revenge goes awry when what is seen cannot be unseen. What happens when temptations, desires, and dark secrets reveal themselves unexpectedly? "Parkinson wants Granger to suffer, and to an extent so do I. I want her to suffer me."

2. To Tease the Lion Out of Her Den

To Tease the Lion Out of Her Den : Draco's POV

I slip into the library, and no one seems to take notice of my arrival. Scouting the tables for signs of Granger's presence, I tread lightly. Perish the thought that she sees me coming; I have plans for the illustrious Head Girl, and they hinge upon the element of surprise.

I methodically work my way across the rows of tables, throughout the countless stacks of books. When I stumble upon a frightened third year, the look on her face tells me I must seem predatory, that, or my reputation precedes me.

I wager both, and sneering at the sniveling lump of witch, I move on. I mustn't change a thing about my demeanor; I want Granger to quiver in fear much like that pathetic little third year.

I finally stalk past one of the outlying stacks, and I spy a dim light far off in a tiny back corner, just barely concealed behind this row of dusty leather bound bindings. I quietly snort in amusement. Who knew there was even a spot to study back there?

I grin at the thought that this witch's love of obscure tomes and hidden sanctuaries are finally about to net her a certain type of trouble I'm fairly sure she has no idea is coming. With a wickedness, I grin and run my fingers over the book bindings as I make my way back, only stopping as the small light becomes ever brighter.

I watch on silently as her inky fingers skim a line here and there, from this book to that book, then over and under to another in her pile. Her cross-referencing complete, she returns to her ever-lengthening parchment to record and analyze her findings. She has no idea I'm upon her until it's too late.

Moving in the shadows, out of the reaches of her silly orb of light, I find my way behind her and as still as death, I advance. Even as quiet as I am, I can barely contain my wicked delight.

And then in an instant it's over. My hands snatch hers, and I pin her palms to the table, my weight bearing down on her. At first, Granger is too surprised to move, but as she begins to struggle I press her palms flat against the oak surface. My weight, strength, and the whole of my body restrain her now; we both know she is helpless in this position.

"Don't," I growl; I am sure my low voice pounds reverberations into her ear. "I can have my wand on you before your lips even move, and hexed before you ever scream."

I hear Granger let out a peevish sigh; I smile as I catch that she recognizes the timbre of my voice. I wonder how far I can push her before she cracks, but before I can dwell on that line of thought she huffs, and resists me by struggling again.

"Malfoy, let me go now, and maybe I'll let you keep your hands," Granger hisses through clenched teeth.

She growls at the lack of both response and compliance on my part. I can feel my self-satisfied grin deepening. It is then that she stops her pointless resistance.

"Get off!" I hear her strained whisper lash out at me in a way that her body and her magic cannot.

I push her hands against the table harder now, I'm sure the quill is digging into her right palm, but I could care less for her comfort. I use my nose to brush past her hair and a whisper of a taunt floats towards her ear.

"But, Granger, I already have, or weren't you there?"

I feel her stiffen in what must be panic or maybe confusion. I am still positioned behind her, so whatever frightened or befuddled expression she wears remains out of view for the moment.

I feel her relax before she attempts to thrash against me again, testing the limits of my strength over her. I am sure I see the hint of a scowl as I press against her harder; the friction of our hands sliding against each other heats our skin, and it's getting harder to hold her palms flat as they slip under mine, but still I keep her pinned with my arms and my weight. I am her cage.

I can feel her mind practically buzzing as I watch her temple pulse in anger. I know she is tasting the bitterness of futility. She knows she will not win by throwing me off.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy? Look, you know I don't really care to know. Just let me go, or I really will hex you when I free myself," Granger all but growls in frustration at me.

I watch Granger's jaw muscles dance with tension. I don't answer back as I make the next move. I tease her, letting her go momentarily. Before she can grasp for her wand across the table, I have mine trained upon her back.

I jab her with the tip of my wand to be sure she understands that she has no advantage here, and that it would serve her better to acquiesce than resist. With one more prod at her side, I feel assured that the silent message has been received. It is then that I resume taunting her.

"I mean the Prefects' bathroom Granger," I murmur intensely; I want to know what effect this revelation will have.

I smile in satisfaction when I hear her startled intake of breath. I notice her fingers flex anxiously as she tries to still herself from making a desperate grab for her wand. She knows that I have the lead, and that between the two of us, I would be the fastest to react. She doesn't dare to move more than a tiny involuntary twitch.

I lazily start to draw stick figures of what I'd like Granger to be doing to me on her rigid back; this only causes her to tense more as the tip moves lazily down the length of her spine, up the curve of her sides, and across the span of her back.

It is then that Granger inhales deeply, possibly to steady her nerves, and I wonder about moving to face her. I want to see the fear in her eyes. I want to see how her mouth quivers once she completely understands what it is I am after.

"Again I ask: what are you playing at Malfoy?" Granger questions, her tone icy.

I chuckle at the malice in her voice. Moving along the length of her spine again, I use my wand to move her hair off her back and onto her shoulder. I draw a particularly elaborate scene on the nape of her neck. It does not escape my notice that the fine hairs stand on end.

I decide to goad her further by not answering her directly. I'm sure she has no idea as to what it is I'm invisibly depicting upon her form, but the silence between us is thick and suspended in anticipation.

Still I can't help but to sneer at her overconfidence. There is no trembling on her part, and here I expected a little more terror from her, but then it seems I've underestimated her anger and pride. It is then I decide to vanish her blouse. I see her shiver at the loss, but she says nothing. Rather she squares her shoulders and looks straight ahead.

I want to test her. I've already decided that if she looses her barely restrained temper that I will hex her stationary. I know she is probably aware of my trap, but it's that temper I want to coax out of her. I have control over this exchange save for this one thing: her anger. Will she remain in control, or will she relinquish it by forcing my hand? That is the prelude to this game.

"Never mind, Malfoy," Granger groans in harried frustration. "I can only assume you expect that I will somehow give you a special performance then? Let me save you the trouble by telling you now that it will never happen. And if you press on, you'll have to immobilize me, and by that point, anything you do thereafter is rape."

"I'm not concerned by trivial things such as your consent Mudblood." I muse lazily.

I press my wand into her cheek as I move to stand in front of her, the tip never leaving the curve of her face. I make room for myself to sit between her and the table by resting my foot between her legs; knocking her thighs further apart, I gain purchase on the wooden seat, and it is then that I push her chair back to slide between her and the table. I lean back on my new perch and tap my wand against her cheek as if in thought.

Her eyes are flashing darkly at me, and the curve in her bottom lip rests in a defiant frown. I let my eyes roam her form, it's different this time, obviously, and the reaction of her disgust only encourages me to continue. I revel in those loathing looks.

I tap her chin with the hawthorn tip and contemplate just how far I can go before she is forced to act. Where is the line, I wonder? I have no doubt that when she finally turns on me that it will be a fight to prevail.

"I suppose when I saw you, rutting like a beastie, I wondered why you just didn't fool around with wee Potty or the patchy little Weasel, but with a little more thought put into it, I've decided I know the real reason you sneak off for your daily bath." I sneer at her "And I know that I am very correct in that this is a daily occurrence for you."

"I don't think I would have ever suspected, Malfoy, that you would take such an interest in the personal habits of a Mudblood." she hisses in irritation. Her eyes narrow on mine.

Adjusting herself to scoot back a little further, she snarls, "Tell me what did you do when you happened upon me, but-oh, wait, you didn't just happen upon me, did you? Be sure to let your little pug-nosed girlfriend know that this won't get her into that room again."

"I suppose it's a fair assumption," I say casually, "that Pansy and I have a relationship, but sadly for Pansy, it just isn't there."

Granger bristles a bit and then frowns at the discovery that I am I free to do as I please. I have no ties that bind; I've made no promise of fidelity to anyone.

"But all pleasantries aside, what do you think I did?" I ask her silkily.

I move my wand from her chin to her throat, and I watch her eyes trail after my hand. She swallows thickly before her eyes snap back up to mine, her brows furrow angrily.

"And if I am such a beast," Granger snappishly whispers, "why is it you didn't just go off running, ferret? Something about the event in question strike your fancy?" Sitting up and inching back again, she sneers at me "Well, of course it did. That's why you are here now, pestering me, hoping that I might join you in whatever twisted game you are playing. Well, it won't happen so you can give it up; I will never consent!"

"You assume I'm after your permission, Granger," I drawl in a bored fashion. So far, there has been entirely too much conversation.

She eyes me warily, and I arch a scandalous eyebrow at her.

"How you do presume, hmm?" I chuckle fiendishly.

I decide to continue stripping Granger down to nothing, and with a slight flourish of my wand and a low rush of breath, I have her in her knickers and nothing else.

"That really is too far, Malfoy!" Granger growls angrily.

She folds her arms over her chest, eying her wand; I can tell she is close to striking out for it. If my attention falters, even just a little, she'll have it in her hands before I can stop her, but I don't summon her wand. I like the stakes just as they are, and quite frankly, when Granger folds her arms as the way she is now, it only makes her cleavage all the more apparent. As we stare at each other darkly, I can feel the electricity.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, and we both know what kind of unfulfilled creature you really are," I mock, trying to ignore the new level of tension.

She glares at me but says nothing, her frown becoming tighter.

I know she has to be a virgin; it's the only explanation I can come up with, as it is quite obvious from her earlier display that there are no likely parings she shares in the trio. No one in that lot is meeting her needs. It would be laughable if those two twits even knew she had those kinds of needs. The display in the bathroom is telling, and true to form, the witch takes care of any problem she confronts, but will she take care of me, I wonder.

I don't have pure intentions, true, but they certainly don't include rape; that's so Muggle. No, getting her to submit will be enough fun, and I have a feeling once she does, it'll be like opening the proverbial flood gates.

Narrowing my eyes on her slowly retreating form, I decide to pounce before she tries for her wand. Before Granger can hurl herself out of the chair, my hands find their posts; I grip her throat and wand in hand, I grab at her upper arm. I feel the smooth wood of the hawthorn wand press between her arm and my hand almost painfully. She gasps and swallows even though my hold on her throat is light. The fear on her face is alluring, mostly because I know there is nothing to fear, but I relish in what she doesn't know.

Our eyes are locked, and Granger is using her free arm to brace against me; her elbow digs into my sternum but that doesn't stop me from leaning in. Towering over her in the chair, I watch her as she studies me.

Watching her eyes follow my mouth, I smirk extra hard just for her benefit. My hand now rests lightly at her throat, and I feel drawn to teasing her even further; I lean forward, but she doesn't move to retreat like I expected she would.

I look at Granger's face. There is no hint of fear any more. She simply stares at me as I examine her.

I lean closer and she doesn't move; I can feel our breath mingle, that is how close we are now. I can feel that the pulse in her throat is rapid, and I can see that her eyes are on my lips. Before I can up the ante, the witch surprises me by bridging the gap between us.

Her mouth is soft, softer than I expected. We don't move, but rather there is a silent dare here. Electricity crackles between us, my mouth tingles, but I don't lose my head. I grab her arms and move her to stand up. If we are going to play this game, I need to be on guard and ready to move should I need to.

I feel Granger get up easily with me, and she steps closer to me, moving us back towards the desk. I quickly guess that Granger wants me to move back to the table to make another attempt for her wand. I won't make it easy on her; if she wants to get the advantage, or what she thinks is the advantage, she'll have to do a lot more than touch her lips to mine. And even though this is awkward; I revel in the sensations.

Her eyes close, and I know what she intends next. And then I feel it: her lips move and press against mine. I move mine to match hers, but my eyes never leave her face. Soon our mouths are open and battling each other as our words once did. Granger's eyes are still tightly shut, but her hands are busy. A hand closes gently around my neck as the other rests on my hip.

I smirk because I feel I am winning. This causes Granger to look at me through her lashes. Whatever it is she sees, it makes her squirm a little. I feel I should say something boorish to keep up the ruse that I don't know what she plans to do when she gets me backed up against the desk, and it's then I think of something even better than mere words.

I keep the wand pressed between us, my hand on her arm, but with my other hand, I lightly trail down her upper arm, to her forearm, to her palm, to her fingertips, only to come up her side, from her hip to her waist, across the span of her ribs to the underside of her breast. Her skin is smooth, just as I imagined it to be earlier. I am sure I must be almost grinning fiendishly, but I cannot help it.

What comes next has Granger's skin goose pimpled with agitation or lust. I'm not quite sure as her low moan sounds indistinguishable; however, I'm willing to go with lust. I palm her breast with more firmness now and delight in the supple warmth. This must be her own special button, for Granger growls lower still, and her movements become demanding.

I think her own reaction startles her, as she quickly stills a bit, trying her hardest to move languidly and deliberately. She moves both of her hands to my hips and gently pushes me against the edge of the desk. I let her think she has the upper hand, until I push her buttons again. I roll the firm pad of her nipple gently as I hear her gasp.

"Oh, my…" she whimpers before she can stop herself.

"Draco," I supply smoothly.

Her lashes flutter open and as the hazy lust disappears, she glares at me darkly.

"Twitchy ferret," she snarls.

"Please don't flatter me with terms of endearment just yet, Granger," I snicker with amusement.

"No," Granger retorts, her eyes snapping angrily to her wand, which I now feel resting on my temple, "I mean that's what I think I'll turn you into."

"Only if you think you can hex me faster than I you," I smile.

I'll credit her with being good, but I know I'm better. I am the one still in possession of my clothing. I press her arm harder, letting my wand dig in deeper while its tip simultaneously points directly at her.

Granger scowls, and I can see her trying to think of a way out of this. I don't bother to contemplate her next move, because I'm quite sure once I'm done, she won't know up from down.

I pull her towards me to resume snogging her, only this time more harshly. She doesn't resist; no doubt her line of rationale probably goes something like this : "Kiss the ferret senseless, then when he's completely lust driven, hex him stupid."

I'm sure she thinks it worked for her once, why not again. I carry on with what I set out to do. I plan to finish this exploration, of sorts, so I let my fingers work up her inner thigh, and brush against the wet fabric of her knickers. Now that is a surprise.

"Don't, " I hear her whisper, but I choose to ignore her warning. Our wands are still poised, and she knows that I'm not lost to lust quite yet. I know she won't stop me, not if she thinks she will ultimately make me pay for this trespass.

I slip past the fabric and slide against these other lips. A flash of pink comes to mind as I remember the image of only moments earlier. Her breath hitches, but she doesn't move to stop me, or utter another word to bring this to a halt. Pushing into her, I feel her grip tighten and her body tense. She has stopped kissing me and rests her head on my collarbone.

I stretch, and feel my way against the soft walls, almost like slick velvet. The thought of what it would be like to fuck her makes my head swim with anticipation; it is then I pause curiously at the presence of a small patch of ridges. Inwardly chuckling, I decide, in the name of exploration, to press the firm ridgy spot. My curiosity is rewarded when I feel her quiver a bit at the sensation. I feel around her again, soft and smooth, save the ridged patch; I wonder if I somehow missed the tell tale sign of maidenhood.

"Interesting," I whisper hoarsely into her neck.

I swallow thickly as I myself am not immune to what is happening between us.

Her nails dig into my arm, and her wand point drops from my temple to my throat. I feel her breathing heavily against me. I remove my fingers to slide against her slick folds again; I circle wet and lazily, moving up further each time. I find my finger tips grazing a firm little nub. I decide that the arrangement of female anatomy is curiously unique. I concentrate my efforts on that spot to see if it has the same effect as the ridges, and I am nearly poked in the throat as Granger shivers. I'll take that as a yes.

I sigh, half in temptation and half in determination. All good things must come to an end. If I keep up at this pace, she really will have a chance to catch me in a moment of carelessness.

I break the wordless silence between us. "So who was it, Granger?"

My question takes only a minute to sink in as Granger tries to come to her senses.

"W-what?" she asks with breathy confusion.

"You know, which little worm got to the apple first?" I hiss in irritation. I'm not really sure why I'm irritated, she wanton, but nevertheless, it annoys me. And she can't have been that affected by what I was doing. But her heart thumps rapidly against me, and her cheeks are flushed; maybe I'm wrong.

I look at the confusion in her eyes; dark brown eyes that are so round and wide. I can tell she has no idea what I'm going on about.

"Ah, maybe it was you, then?" I murmur, breaking away from her.

Looking over her flushed appearance, I'm reminded of the Prefects' bathroom and then it hits me. Naturally it would have to be her, she knows how to take care of herself, and she's not afraid of opening a book either. I must look contemplative to Granger, for she clears her throat to catch my attention.

"Contrary to popular belief, Malfoy, there are many ways to losing one's 'maidenhead' and for the record, it's not on the inside, it's at the opening, you idiot," she retorts authoritatively before her mouth settles into a pompous little frown.

I'm slightly stunned; the innocent confusion before was so palpable. So she is playing me, and it's not deep within after all, good to know on both accounts.

"Protego," I exclaim instinctively as I catch a sudden flash of movement. It comes so fast I'm not sure why I cast the shield until I hear Granger simultaneous bellow "Expelliarums".

My wand is in front of me making sure the shield charm holds. It is hard to take Granger seriously as she stands there in her knickers; I chuckle. For her part, Granger does not look amused. No doubt, in her estimation she almost had me, and her irritation waves prickly.

"Where are my clothes, Malfoy?" Granger demands.

"Now why would I tell you?" I laugh at her openly. "No, I think I'll let you find your way out of this one. You are Head Girl after all; I'm sure you'll think of something."

And with a wink I turn to leave her to flounder: hot, bothered, no doubt bewildered, and mostly naked. Any good adventurer will agree that it is vital to know the difference between a good time to pursue and a good time to retreat. Now is a good time to retreat, go over some of the findings, and plot another expedition when the tides are in my favor.

"I'll kill you if you bloody touch me again, Malfoy!" Granger nearly shouts after me.

"That's the Gryffindor spirit," I say, waving her off.