Disclaimer: You should know…it's pretty simple…

A/N: Here's some info for you to set up the story: It's a different universe; Voldemort isn't really an issue. Getting through NEWTs is the top priority. We won't be finding out who 'he' is until MUCH later; by 'we' I mean all of us; I won't know either until it's time to reveal him. Fun, isn't it? I know I have a TON of in progress stories, but I had to write this…It's like stuck in my head, driving me crazy. This story is going to get very physical…so if you don't like that, leave. Pure and simple.

Chapter 2: Delicious Terror

He groaned in anticipation. It was almost time for her to sleep. To crawl under her warm blankets in her high tower room, waiting for the dreams to come. His anticipation terrified him; he'd never wanted a girl like this before, especially one who was so wrong for him. He shivered in delight; her dreams were the only time he could get to her, to be with her. And every damn time she ran away.

It'd had been months since he had known the feelings he felt were love. How could it not be? The constant obsession; jealousy over every little encounter with another man; the burning need to be near her; her constant terror at his 'advances.' And yet, he knew she wanted him, wanted them. He only needed to enter her dreams a few more times, to push her into his arms a little further.

He howled in frustration. He deserved more than her. He was so far above her. He kept trying to talk himself into believing that mantra, but he knew it was a lost cause. He was hooked to the bushy-haired brunette. Her face was engrained into his soul.

His mind reached out, slowly creeping up the stairs inside Hogwarts castle, toward Gryffindor Tower. Up into the common room, to the girls' dormitory. There she was, tossing and turning in her four poster bed. Her face was scrunched up in confusion and horror.

He smiled. His glamour into her mind was working. He'd been applying Wiccan traditions into his encounters with the girl, trying to throw her off his scent. So far, so good.

"Oh, tonight, my darling, we'll try something a little different," he growled in his beastly voice. He was sick of her running from him; of forcing her to be intimate. Just as he was close to getting what he wanted, she would awaken and ruin the moment when he was so close to making her his. And tonight he wanted her. Completely.

She was running through the underbrush, which was grown up around the trees. Branches hanging down from above her ripped at her clothes, scratched at her skin, leaving a mess of cotton and blood onto her soft outer layer. Her breath was labored, but she tried to remain calm and keep quiet. Her face was muddy as she ducked down, hoping she lost her pursuer moments ago. The forest was dark and she had no idea where she was, but she did have one thought coursing through her very being: stay alive; stay safe.

"Oh, no," she murmured in her sleep, but not awakening.



Then, two arms grabbed her from behind. Before she had a chance to scream, one hand covered her mouth; before she had the chance to scramble away, another arm wrapping around her body and pinning her arms to her side. She struggled trying to free herself, but to no avail. "Shh," a deep, soft voice whispered. "It's alright, darling. I'll protect you."

She relaxed, something familiar, beautiful about the strong body behind her. She leaned into him. He removed his hand from her mouth, his arms encircling her protectively. He put his nose to her hair, inhaling deeply. She shuttered at the sensation caused by this gesture; she was safe, she was loved.

"Not…right…" Hermione's sleeping body felt tense, unlike her dream counterpart. Something felt wrong, but she couldn't figure it out. She still couldn't open her eyes.

Out on the grounds, a dark figured moaned softly, continuing a chant. "Eyes stay shut, heart stay open. Trust in what you see, let me in." If she accepted him, embraced him, he could reveal himself to her in the daylight. Her acceptance was key to their love together.

Her hands clasped his, loving the tenderness in his embrace. He released her hands, letting his fingertips trail up her cheek. "Oh, Hermione. I've wanted you so long." He pulled her against him, and she gasped, instantly feeling that what he said was true.

His face snuggled further into her hair, his tongue finding her ear. Touching it gently, enjoying the little sighs escaping the woman he loved. He leaned his mouth closer to her ear. "Let me show you how much."

He turned her around, but his face was hidden in the shadows. He pulled her toward him, kissing her in a fierce gentleness that took her breath away. Slowly, oh so slowly, his hands roamed under her shirt, fiddling with the clasp on her bra. She pulled away from, breaking the contact that was driving her insane.

"Don't rush this…" she stepped back, still alert, waiting for whatever was chasing her.

The man growled, pulling her to him. "You're save. I took care of it."

She looked up at him questioningly. How did he know what she was thinking?

"We've been hand-fasted, Hermione. A Wiccan wedding." His fingers traced soft circles on the skin of her back underneath her t-shirt. "I can hear your thoughts…know what you desire." He kissed her softly, biting her lower lip. His voice dropped an octave, husky with longing. "I know you want this."

"Leave…me…alone…" Hermione whimpered into the night. She had woken up her suitemates. Lavender was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring worriedly at the girl. Parvati had run to find Professor McGonagall because neither of them could wake her.

Hermione pulled away again, uncomfortable about the unfolding events. "Why don't I remember?"



He sighed heavily. "I don't know. I want you to." She could feel the disappointment cascading off of him. "I really would love for you to feel it again. The passion." He took a step toward her.

She took a step away. No, she screamed in her head. Not until I sort this out. He growled again, so close to an animal's it shocked her. If he loved her, he wouldn't rush this. Would wait until she remembered, when she was comfortable.

"God dammit, I do love you." He grabbed her tightly by the wrists. "It drives me crazy being away from you. My heart can't handle it anymore. I need to be inside of you. Now."

Again, the table. The straps. It was all going to hell again. "NO, NO, NO!" he bellowed into the night. "Trust in me, my love. Give me what I dream of."

Hermione gasped as he overpowered her with a kiss. He dragged her to the table, strapping her in. He made her clothes disappear from her body and reappear in a pile. Hermione was excited by the encounter, but disgusted at the same time. If he was her husband, if he loved her, he wouldn't be doing this.

"You know you want this." He stripped down, pulling himself on top of her. "I will consummate this now. I'm sick of waiting."

Without any further declaration, he slipped his fingers down her body, wanting to feel her and taste her.

"Stop," she moaned, deeply, contradicting herself with her own voice.

"You don't want me to." It was a simple statement; but when he said it, it vibrated through her brain. She did want him, she couldn't deny it anymore. But she always wanted something more from her first time.

"Hermione," the voice was distant, urgent.

His eyes, the only visible part of his face, got wide in shock. "No," he murmured into her neck. "Stay with me."

"Hermione!" the voice was closer, scaring her.

"Who is it?" she wondered to him.

"Ignore them." He touched more fiercely down below, making her squirm in pain.

"HERMIONE!"

She sat up in a quick, fluid motion, right into Ron's awaiting arms. She started sobbing, holding onto him for support. He placed his hand awkwardly on her back, reassuring her with his touch.

"Thank goodness!" Lavender looked relieved. "You had us so scared. It sounded like your dream was pretty horrible."



She nodded silently, the tears still coming. It wasn't the entire truth. What was horrible was how delicious the touch of her attacker's skin had felt; how much she had wanted to stay with him there until he tried to force her. He was scary; he was seductive. He wanted her; she was his. And now she knew it.

"Miss Granger, I believe you and I need to have a talk." Hermione had just noticed the Deputy Headmistress in the corner, next to a shaking Parvati. Harry was leaning by the door, staring over the rim of his glasses at her, appraising her state of being. She buried her face further into Ron's shoulder.

"Professor, can't it wait until morning? Look at how terrified she looks." Hermione smiled at Ron's concern, and held him tighter. She could feel his face warm, knowing he turned beet red.

"I think not." And with that, she signaled for Hermione to follow.

Hermione sighed reluctantly, untangling herself from Ron's warm embrace. She thanked him with a smile and walked out the door after McGonagall. She paused at Harry, looking straight into his eyes. Her gaze said it all: help me. He nodded and she knew he would use his powers to go into her mind when she spoke to McGonagall. She would let him; he was the only one she thought she could trust.

"DAMMIT!" He thundered around in the darkness. He'd been so close. She had hesitated, but she was so close to accepting him into her. They were so close to his ultimate goal: owning her heart, body, and soul. He smiled slightly; tonight hadn't been a total loss. He now knew that he could get to her, own her. He just had to be patient.

"Ah, a virtue." His mind followed her to McGonagall's office. "A few more nights of this delicious terror, and you'll be mine…forever."

His low voice echoed in her head, and she shivered at the voice she thought she heard…

A/N: yes? No? Maybe? Hmm…r/r