Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J. K. Rowling does.
Warning: I do believe my story might end up being a wee bit dark.
A/N: Thank you everyone for reading my story! My readers are simply amazing. For those of you who do review, thank you so much! I am very grateful for the support and encouragement. Please review! Reviews are enormously appreciated.
Chapter Six
Draco Malfoy walked out of the library without a backwards glance. He didn't care to see the outcome of the mudblood's humiliation. She deserved it. His grey stormy eyes darkened as he thought that she probably enjoyed the blood bond they shared. In fact, he bet without doubt that she liked feeling like his equal, even though she was worthless.
He wasn't bothered by her degradation. He was only bothered by the chaotic emotions that were stirred within him by the small girl. He had never once felt jealous over a witch, yet there he was fuming over the idea that another wizard had tried touching the mudblood.
His mudblood. He hated her, but at the same time he really wanted her. He wanted to feel her slender body under him, and brand her all over.
He visibly flinched. If it weren't for the blood bond he wouldn't be thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her.
Draco shook his head in revulsion and began thinking about Pansy Parkinson, the devoted and obsessive witch that never gave up on him. Her death didn't necessarily bother him, but the circumstances of her death surely did.
His silvery blond brows furrowed in deep concentration as he once again began to think about the min's cloud. Skylar Montgomery had told him that the cloud attracted females, but was its pull strong enough to cause a witch to fall to her death? He truly didn't like the idea of a certain witch he knew falling to her death. As he glanced at the window in the hallway, he looked over at the orange cloud swirling in the dreary sky, and finally made up his mind to find an answer to his burning question.
. . .
Hermione quickly ran out of the library uncaring of the fact that some of the students were still laughing at her, regardless of the scolding that the old and withered librarian was directing at them.
The distraught witch wiped at her tears as she retreated to her room.
She didn't bother to lock any of the doors or place any incantations as she uncaringly threw herself on her small bed. The feel of the soft cool mattress of her bed slightly eased her embarrassment and blushing face. She wished Luna was in the school to console her, or at least someone she held close to her heart.
Harry and Ron were once close to her. They were like her brothers at one point. They were always by her side until recently.
She sighed.
Thinking of the friends she had lost for ambiguous reasons merely depressed her even more. The small girl finally got up from her unkempt bed, and closed the curtains of the window that was placed next to her bed and decided to take a nap to drown out her humiliation and loneliness.
. . .
"What do you mean it influences witches affected by the blood bond more?" asked Draco Malfoy in an outraged voice. Draco had sought out the redhead once more, and the answers the nerd was producing to the questions he was asking were exasperating him
Skylar Montgomery nodded, and once again explained that the min's cloud had a more powerful pull on witches that had forged blood bonds.
"Why?" asked Draco, his voice clipped.
"I don't really know the reason, but witches that have formed a blood bond are simply more sensitive to it. Especially if the witch made the blood bond with a strong male," explained the nerd in a scared voice.
Draco stiffened at the reply.
He was a Malfoy. There was no doubt that he was a strong and powerful wizard by birth. The years had only increased his powers.
"Well, what about the death of Pansy Parkinson. Do you think she died because of the cloud?" he asked, fearing he already knew the answer to that.
"I'm not sure. I guess it's possible," replied the oily redhead in a shaky voice. Draco snorted and left the redhead's room without another word. Now he knew for certain that he had to keep an eye on the mudblood. He started making his way to Hufflepuff dorms for the second time that day.
He noted that night had already fallen on the school and the min's bright cloud harshly contrasted with the darkened sky. He quickened his long strides as fear grasped its icy fingers around his heart.
. . .
Hermione stretched out like a languid cat in her bed as she yawned and finally woke up. Her dreams were quite disturbing, but she pushed them to the back of her mind. She gently rubbed her dry eyes, got up, and went to her closet to change her clothes. She figured she wasn't going to leave her room for the rest of the evening so she put on her comfortable white nightgown that Luna had given her as a birthday present last year.
Her room felt a bit too warm for her comfort. She went to the window and pulled the curtains away.
As she was opening the window a bright orange cloud caught her eye. The same cloud that haunted her dreams today. She couldn't look away. Her body started moving on its own and her vision began to swim. It felt like being in a dream. Her sanity was slipping as she determinately decided to go towards the hanging cloud. She reached her arm out to touch the cloud.
"Stop!" Draco caught her arm, preventing her from plummeting into the inky black depths. He swung her around to face him, trying with great difficulty to remain calm.
He could feel his own heart racing in panic as he bent down his head to look down into her face. Her eyes were glazed and had a faraway look to them. She had almost jumped. He was both glad and mad that she had left all her doors unguarded.
If he hadn't gone after her, she would've died and he would have died, too. He shuddered at the thought. Draco didn't pull away when her thin arms wrapped themselves around him.
Her pleasing touch was something he craved. He merely held her as her head gently laid to rest on his chest. The shock he had received from almost dying from an indirect source made his mind spin. He hated her as he hated all descendants of tainted blood, yet he couldn't deny that he wanted her.
Needed her.
If only she wasn't a mudblood, he wouldn't think twice about taking her. They stayed in a shared embrace until she began to hastily withdraw from his strong hold.
"Don't," he said, holding her even tighter.
Hermione's paralyzed body finally regained its mobility. Her hazy mind cleared as she realized who the wizard that saved her was. She was so grateful that she had blindly latched herself onto what seemed like the only shred of sanity. Her savior and ironically... Her tormentor. His silvery blond hair, tall powerful stature, and baritone voice that rumbled from his chest gave him away.
She tried to push away from his embrace, her mind was screaming at her to put as much distance between them as possible. She closed her eyes shut as his painful grasp further increased and inadvertently ceased her frantic movements.
"Let me hold you," he pleaded.
She gasped at his tender words. He slightly pulled back to kindly look down into her face once again. "Let me pretend for one moment that you're not a filthy mudblood," he whispered in a caring voice.
Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes, clogging her throat as she opened her warm brown eyes to search into his cold grey eyes. She was scared of his new behavior. One minute he hated her, and the next he was almost being nice. She was used to his ruthless, cruel, and cold treatment of her, but this almost nice version of Draco terrified her. She wasn't familiar with this side of him and didn't know what to expect.
His hand gently cupped her cheek. The gesture he mirrored from hours ago was different this time, it was almost sweet. His icy grey eyes were softening as he stared at her. Branding her. She was speechless and the silence between them grew until she took a deep breath and broke it with a question.
"Why? Why pretend to ignore something you always insult me with?" she asked in a quivering voice.
His hold momentarily loosened as he pondered her unexpected bold inquiry. She retreated from his embrace, and his hand limply fell to his side. Once she fully pulled away from his touch, he let out a curse. He tried to reach out to her with his long fingers, yet she successfully evaded his grasp. She backed away until the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed.
"Because I want you," he confessed, taking a step towards her.
She swallowed.
The intense look in his now molten mercury eyes was searing her.
"You want a muggle-born witch?" she questioned. At her words he visibly cringed. He didn't want to acknowledge what she was at the moment, and her words were only serving as an unsavory reminder.
"Shut up," he warned, taking another long stride in her direction. Her eyes flew to his as she noticed all warmth had vanished from them, and they had once again hardened.
He smirked as he saw wariness creep into her expressive eyes. He had tried playing nice, but he'd alter his strategy if necessary to finally quench his thirst for her. He used a nonverbal spell to create a strong silencing barrier around her room, and to close her bedroom door and window without ceasing his steps.
Her eyes widened in both surprise, and fear as she noticed what he did to her room.
"You don't want to... to touch me. I'm not a pure-blood," she hastily said, trying to convince him to stop his advances. He froze and his smirk faded, she let out a sigh of relief, until he took yet another step. He could feel the inviting heat radiating from her as he now stood in front of her. He bent his head down towards her delicate neck to breathe in her tantalizing scent.
"I told you to shut up," he threatened in a velvet whisper as he traced the curve of her neck with his middle finger.
"You're a pure-blood. You hate muggle-borns," she whimpered, painfully aware of their intimate proximity.
Hermione looked down as his hand once again fell away from her. His long, slender fingers curled into a harsh fist. His knuckles soon turned white.
He really hated her constant reminders of her impure lineage.
With each word she muttered, he felt his control slipping away. "You're right. I am a pure-blood," he confirmed, his eyes darkening with desire as they settled on her tawny eyes.
"Draco-" she began, but he stopped her words as he quickly kissed her. She had meant to break him out of his odd trance with using his first name, but by the look of it she had only made her predicament worse.
The way she said his given name made him melt. The damn blood bond was taking over. He was trying very hard to regain control, yet her intoxicating presence made it nearly impossible for him to resist her and then the way his name sounded on her lips had finally made him snap.
Excitement coursed through him as their lips met. Her lips were soft and felt so right against his. He pulled away from her and took a deep breath.
She thought he was done with her, but the next words he spoke made her stiffen. "Lie back on the bed," he commanded.
Hermione was innocent, but she knew the implication of his words, and judging by the way he had roughly and hungrily kissed her, she knew he wouldn't be gentle. She placed her small hands on his powerful chest in alarm and tried to push him back in vain attempt to keep him from her.
Draco captured her small hands in his and pulled them off his chest. In one swift moment he removed his dark silk shirt and carelessly threw it aside. He wordlessly pushed her unwillingly body onto the bed.
She closed her eyes in denial, and tried to use her elbows to get off the bed. It all felt like a nightmare to her. Her eyes went huge when she heard him undoing his trousers.
Hermione went very still when she finally opened her eyes to see him standing completely naked in front of her. He was an imposing figure and he was painfully aroused.
"No!" she screamed as he climbed on top of her. Tears began pouring down her face as he ripped off her white nightgown. "Please," she begged as he began running his hands over her naked body.
Draco stopped as he heard the tears in her voice. He looked into her glistening eyes. The tears he saw running down her cheeks made his heart ache for some unknown reason. He couldn't figure out why he cared, but seeing her in such a state made him want to comfort her. His conflicting emotions frustrated him. It must be the fucking blood bond again.
He cupped her face and began kissing her tears away. "Don't cry," he murmured. His voice was gentle even though he felt as if he could rip her apart in his frustration. What the devil was wrong with him? It wasn't as if he actually cared about her feelings or tears. In fact, he was only willingly sullying himself with her to get her out of his system.
Hermione's thoughts were in utter turmoil. She couldn't figure out what was wrong with the blond wizard. His words and actions were contradictive. She couldn't keep up with his random mood swings. She didn't want him. It was all one-sided.
"I can't stop," he admitted in a ragged voice as he passionately kissed her again. His tongue delved inside her unyielding mouth. He nearly groaned as pleasure rushed through his body. His hands traveled down her untouched body, exploring her. She whimpered at his touch.
Hermione's own body betrayed her as he expertly continued teasing her mouth and body. She felt a small fire start at her lower belly and flare out all over her.
It was overwhelming her senses.
He was overwhelming her senses.
Her body began to slowly relax under his touch. As much as she hated it, she couldn't help but enjoy the fire he was stroking within her. The adrenaline running through her body from being scared only heightened her pleasure. He cradled the back of her head as he kissed her even harder.
Draco could feel his disgust for the small girl, but it felt very far away, almost as if it were nonexistent, yet he knew his abhorrence for her still lurked in the back of his mind. Right now though, he really didn't care.
Finally, he separated his mouth from hers to take a breath and looked into her dazed eyes. He groaned as he saw her swollen pink lips and rosy cheeks.
She raised her dainty hands to his chest again, trying to restrain him for a second time.
"Don't touch me," he demanded as he angrily pushed her hands away. He didn't want her touching him more than was necessary. He held himself above her, his lean, hard, and masculine body pressing against her small, soft, and feminine one.
Draco wanted to bury himself inside her. He couldn't help himself, she was addicting. He knew she was a virgin, but he wasn't planning on suppressing his rough sexual nature. No, he was doing this to gain his own satisfaction, not hers. He simply tuned out the voice in his head that told him to proceed in a gentle manner.
Hermione was about to point out that she didn't want to touch him, when he quickly pushed her legs apart and placed his hardness in between them.
The petite girl closed her eyes in utter terror and denial. She went completely still when she felt the tip of his intimidating erection pushing against her slippery folds.
He kissed her, then he pushed, and in one deep thrust he ripped through her innocence.
When he was finally inside her, the pain that swept through Hermione's body was blinding, and it only seemed to sharpen as he began to move.
He drove himself deep and hard inside her tight cavern. She was so wet, he slid himself in and out without taking notice of the extreme pain he was causing her. Her muffled screams made him slightly uncomfortable, but the way she was gripping his length drove all his merciful and guilty thoughts away.
He was kissing her mouth with hunger, but soon his thrusts became so erratic that he couldn't properly kiss her.
She could only hold onto his broad back and muscular shoulders as he finally grunted and collapsed next to her.
Hermione stared down in horror as blue tinted blood and other fluids trickled down her thighs. She attempted to get up, but Draco pulled her down. He leaned over to her ear and said, "You're right I do hate mudbloods, and I really hate witches that can't keep a secret." The small brunette choked on a sob as she nodded at his threat.
Draco was confused at her reaction. He had felt the way her body responded to his, but for some reason she was crying. Hadn't she liked it? Or did virgins usually cry? If anything she should be grateful that her first time was with a pure-blood.
She turned away as he got up. She curled into a ball and immediately froze as she felt him pick her up as if she were a mere child. Before she could question what he was doing, she saw her bathroom come into view.
"We're going to shower," he informed her.