'Wait, stop. Draco, stop. Please.' Hermione feebly tried to pull away from the heated kiss as Draco's hot tongue slipped past her whispering lips and into her unwilling, honey sweet little mouth. Pansy had done similar things on Draco's command in the past and not knowing any better, Draco took her resistance to be the signal to continue and his languid hands tightened their grip on her slim waist. Hermione's heart fluttered and something deep within her ached longingly as his expert thumbs slid from the top of her delicate pelvic bones and down to the top of her conservative black skirt.

Draco's knee ploughed over the hospital coverlet and pushed gently at Hermione's own, stockinged, trembling knees, silently demanding that she should spread them and grant him access to what he desired. Fearful that he would take things further than she was willing to go – and she had passed that point when her panting lover, now hastily unbuttoning his Persian green flannel nightshirt, had initiated the French kiss – if she did not act in an assertive way, and soon, something would happen that she would woefully regret in the morning. Hermione removed her hands from her companion's broad shoulders, which were barely covered by the half unbuttoned night shirt, and ran them down his bare chest. She felt his heart pound under his flushed skin. Draco shivered with anticipation, thinking he knew exactly where she was moving her hands to.

He could not have been more wrong. Her hands reached his navel and stopped in their tracks. With all her strength, a shaky Hermione pushed a wanton Draco away and he fell like a dead weight to the mattress. The air in the coverlet fled with a phff, a muffled sound not dissimilar to the noise Draco made as his head hit the soft, downy pillow and the air was expelled from his sea grape lungs. His face distorted and fell into an ugly stony expression, seething at being denied his well deserved reward – he had nearly died for the frigid bint, and she would not give to him what many had given freely. Snarling, he sat up slowly, his tense hands trailing behind him, flexing and contracting, ready to grab what was already his.

'Draco,' Hermione repeated, in the tone she normally reserved for Grawp when he crossed over the thin line between right and wrong. 'I'm sorry Draco, but we can't do this. I can't do this. Not tonight, and not with you. It's – it's wrong.' Her wand was in her hand, half raised.

The silly girl doesn't know what she's saying. Take her, boy. She's playing games, the harlot, she wants you. You know she does. Take her!

Adrenalin coursing through his pulsing veins, Draco began to follow the barked orders of the voice in his head – which had made a sudden, unexplained reappearance several seconds after he had started to fervently kiss Hermione. He ignored her request, flicked his eyes lazily up to her own, in which tears were starting to prickle at the edges of, grinned, predator like, and snaked his arm around her. Draco wrenched her wand from her and threw it across the room. It clattered on the stone floor.

'I'm afraid,' Draco drawled in a hushed tone, and pressed his lips to hers. Her short, raspy breaths spilled into his open mouth. He withdrew after a second or two. 'That we can do this; we are going to do this.'

'No, please, Drac-!' He cupped a hot, sticky hand to her protesting mouth.

'My dear, you have no choice in the matter. Now, be a good girl. This will be much easier for you if summon up a little sense and don't try to fight me.'

He pushed her down to the bed. Long curly tendrils of her thick hair fanned out on the mattress beneath her head. Hermione stared up at him, her eyes silently pleading with him to release her as he manoeuvred himself onto her, still kneeling, and pinned her to the bed with his hands on her skinny wrists. Salty tears spilled out of her eyes, down past her ears, jaw line and vulnerable swan-neck. Draco removed his right hand from its position as the gaoler of her left wrist. He traced his long index finger along her arm, her thin, cardigan covered arm, along a pretty shoulder and up to her neck, where he caught a tear and looking into her eyes, brought that finger to his mouth.

'Your tears taste positively divine, Granger. Make more for me. Make more for your Draco.'

Upon hearing him refer to himself as her Draco, Hermione uttered a throaty cry and more tears swelled in her tear ducts, matting her brown lashes.

'Good girl. You're a fast learner. You always have been, haven't you?' He purred, the dark edge still in his voice

Draco lowered his head to her neck and slowly lapped up her tears. After taking in his fill he rose and locked eyes with her. He was no leglimens, but it was easy enough to read her thoughts – the eyes were the windows to the soul, after all.

Oh, sweet Merlin, he's going to rape me. Somebody help. Merlin, somebody help me! The voice mocked, simpering and feminine.

Draco smirked as the sobbing girl writhed like an eel beneath him as he explored with his hands her slim white legs, blackened by the stockings that clung to them like nylon limpets. She whimpered when he reached her lower thigh and took the folds of her skirt in his hands. Not wanting to waste any more time, he pushed it up hastily. The soft murmur of fabric against fabric made the beast that was his arousal howl in his chest. He slid forward; splaying her legs a little more with his now free hands – Granger continued to plead quietly – and whistled approvingly when the skirt inched up and his prize was revealed to him.

'French Lingerie, Granger? Well, that is a nice surprise. I didn't know you had it in you, you little minx.' Draco grabbed her hair and Hermione winced as he pulled her up by it and dropped her like a doll. 'I assumed that you'd be wearing little white cotton knickers, just like Mummy laid out for you on your first day of school,' Draco hooked a finger under one of the elasticised ribbons of black fabric that held up her stockings. She wriggled and cried a little harder as his fingers brushed against her cold skin. 'And a suspender belt too?' He chuckled and drew lazy figures of eight on the goose-bumped skin of her milky thighs. 'You spoil me, Mudblood.' Without warning Draco ran his hands up her torso, grabbed her quivering breasts and ripped open her shirt. White pearlescent buttons flew in all directions. 'I think it's high time for me to spoil you. Rotten.' He smirked and lowered his pyjama bottoms. Hermione screamed, pleaded with him to stop and sobbed all at once.

My, she has a set of lungs on her, our feisty little Mudblood. It's a wonder that she hasn't woken half the school.

Hermione turned her head to the side, not wanting to look into his eyes as he pulled her underwear down to her ankles. She resigned herself to the fact that what was going to happen was going to happen and halted her struggles.

'That's right, Mudblood. Give in. You know you want it. You're gagging for it, aren't you? You shaved your lady parts just for me, didn't you, Granger?'

Struggling to hold back another scream, Hermione nodded. Draco half swooned with lust and brought a hand to her womanhood. He petted it, as he would a cat, and Hermione bucked upwards involuntarily.

'Yes, Granger. Good girl.' Draco stroked her cheekbone with his free hand, pulled down his underwear and lowered himself to her. Hermione went limp. He didn't notice her move a little as he prepared to enter her. Her chest swelled as she drew in air.

Neither did he notice the door of the hospital wing creak open.

Neither did he hear hushed voices and footsteps.

Hermione did.

She screamed and cried rape before he could cover her mouth.

Pomfrey and Snape ran over to the entwined pair, both horrified witnesses to the sick event they had barely prevented from happening. They looked at each other, unwilling to accept that what they had seen they had truly seen, looked back at the 'lovers' and ran to their bed.

Snape slapped Draco hard as he sat, frozen, staring open mouthed at the raging, bat like man. Spit flew from the boy's mouth as his disgusted head of house wrenched him off of the cowering, sobbing girl he had attempted to rape, now covering her modesty by curling up in a ball on the bed. Madame Pomfrey looked at Draco with the same expression on her face as Snape and stroked Hermione's hair and heaving back. Naked and ashamed, Draco was pulled stumbling from the room by Snape, who hissed condemnations and threats at the boy. He named him foul, despicable. Lower than a cockroach. More of a coward than Lucius, his father, whose voice Draco had heard as he had assaulted Hermione. He would be expelled and Snape would be glad to see the back of him, it was said. The words were barely heard over the pounding of blood rushing through Draco's head.

--

I think it's time this fiction was changed to M, don't you? :D God, that was fun to write. There's something wrong with me, isn't there? ;-;

He's a disgusting little bastard? Isn't he? I bet you're shocked? Appauled? A little turned on? Bahaha. ;) Wondering where I'm going to take this next? Favourite, add to your alert lists and review if you want to find out!

Reviews keep me writing at such a high quality, guys! Want me to keep it up? Review review review! :D

Special mentions to those who reviewed the last chapter, as always:

F4LL3N-1NT0-0BL1V10N, Kitty, LukeyLover, SnowCharms, MidnightThief15, Hope22, Bananna18, astrotangerines, mysteryssister, rosebud23, Queen of Lunacy, AnnaOtaku, SaraSyco, hemery, TwilightRocks, Doni, CyberDog101, DragonGirl323 and Coloring the Sky

Review even if you were disgusted by how such dirty things could come from the mind of such a lovely girl. You know you love it. ;)

Oh, and nearly forgot to mention, this fic has reached 200 reviews! Wooh! Part-ay! :D Thank you everyone!

Laura