Author's note: I am SO SORRY it has taken this long to update. I switched computers and couldn't find the files for the longest time, and by then I had run out of steam on this. Hopefully it won't happen again. I know how waiting for updates can be.

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.

The next morning when Hermione woke up, she couldn't decide whether or not she should have been mortified. On the one hand, the pleasure brought to her by Malfoy's hands last night had been so much more than anything she had experienced before in her life. The few clumsy attempts she had encountered previously had been good in their own respect, but there was just no denying the blond boy's talent. She could even admit to enjoying the kisses--they were hot and angry and unrelenting and she couldn't possibly get lost in them if she tried, but they did send fire to the very tips of her fingers and toes. On the other hand, it was Malfoy. He was horrible and insufferable and evil and the worst possible person she could imagine. He taunted First Years just for fun, cursed people who looked at him wrong, used and abused his friends, and had every goal and priority in his life mixed up and defined by his father and his "lord." It made her sick.

However, she was smart enough to know that while her mind could create an infinite list on why she should have NOT agreed to, or why she should back out of, the deal, her body would always give in to a touch like that. She was only human, no matter what sort of student she was. She also had to admit that part of her was trying to get back at Harry and Ron, more Ron and less Harry though, for being insensitive gits after she had been forced out of the action and into a library for the summer. Had Ron even thanked her for the research? Maybe he had, she couldn't even remember. She could feel her heart rate increase and her blood boil with fury every time she thought about THAT situation. So, while it wasn't justified or even right, she knew she would keep her deal with Malfoy. She just had to keep it from her friends. Malfoy would have no problem keeping this quiet, she mused, because he would never want to let anyone know he had willingly touched--and seduced?!?!--a 'mudblood'.

She rolled over in bed, not quite ready to get up yet. Her dainty alarm clock that looked like a small figurine of a bird with a clock embedded in it's right wing told her she had two hours before her first class, but she quickly went through her morning routine and cut out ten minutes in order to award herself a little more time in bed. The extra minutes were spent somewhere in a warm, fuzzy world between sleeping and wakefulness in which her blankets were strong arms wrapped around her, the ticking of her clock blurred into a whisper, low and soft in her ear, the words always just out of her grasp. When her ten minutes were up, her clock took flight and landed in her hair, its wings fluttering about her face as it cawed her back to reality. Grumbling, she slid out of bed and shuffled her feet along the thick golden rug.

Her bedroom was much larger than hers at home. It was large and rectangular--she could take 10 long strides from wall to wall the long way across and maybe 6 or 7 the short way. The door stood fixed towards the edge of one of the longer walls, its dark frame accented by the luscious maroon walls. Thin shiny gold vines glittered subtly across the wallpaper, incorporating the gold metal accents, such as a drawer pull or curtain rod, throughout the room. The rich wooden desk that sat against the wall opposite the door was placed in front of one of the three windows that faced the front lawn and great lake, giving her a spectacular view of the magnificent land that Hogwarts was fortunate enough to have been constructed on. Her queen sized bed stood against the far wall, held high enough off the ground by an ornate four poster frame that she nearly had to jump up to get onto her mattress. Gold sheets were hidden by a deep red duvet cover during the day. A night stand, each with two drawers, sat on each side of her bed and a beautifully carved chest was placed at the foot of her bed. A tall wardrobe with cabinets and drawers sat diagonally in the corner right across from the door and held the majority of her clothing. Directly next to the wardrobe on the shorter wall was the door to the bathroom--a little less elegant than the door to the commons, yet dignified nonetheless. The high, arched ceiling was smooth plaster and painted a slightly richer gold than the soft carpet that stretched from wall to wall. The only feature that reminded her that she was in a castle were the large, even stones that bordered the ancient cold black metal window frames.

She thought the room was a little grand for her taste, but she was slowly getting used to it's warmth and comfort. She was happy to have a lot of free floor space because that was the one thing she wanted more of for her room at home. She supposed she could ask for a couch to be put in, too, to give her somewhere comfortable to read that wasn't in a shared space with the Head Boy.

Picking out her clothes for the day from the wardrobe, she made her way into the bathroom and quickly locked both hers and Malfoy's door before stripping and showering. She allowed herself the luxury of a 20 minute shower because she knew the Slytherin couldn't possibly have been awake yet, and then unlocked the doors once she had her clothes on. Five minutes later, while she was combing and drying her hair, a sleepy Malfoy stumbled into the bathroom and, startled upon seeing her already mostly ready for the day, surprised her with a greeting that was possibly more polite than he'd intended due to his mental state of half wakefulness.

"Good morning, Malfoy," she returned, glad to not have to deal with his nastiness so early in the morning. She was just screwing the lid onto her jar of lotion when she noticed his reflection in the mirror starting to remove it's clothing, with little regard for her presence. "Uhm, excuse me?" she sputtered, setting the jar on the counter a little louder than she'd meant to.

"I'm showering. If you aren't going to join me, kindly shut the door on your way out," he smirked, making up for the kind greeting. He began to pull his shorts off, his shirt already in a crumpled mess on the ground. The air was still a little steamy from her own shower, but the hot water he had just turned on contributed to the heated atmosphere. Hermione caught a glimpse of more than she wanted--or less than she wanted?--and felt flame shoot into her face before she gave up on her hair and whipped it into a high pony before spinning on her heels and nearly dashing out of the bathroom, being careful to close the door slowly behind her. Damn him, she DID want to join him in the shower, but that was entirely inappropriate. Plus, she had already taken her shower. Not that that was the only reason she had decided against a shower with him. Instead, she removed all temptation by picking her book up off her desk and retreating to the common room to cook breakfast.

Cutting the mushrooms, peppers, and onions that morning had been a challenge because her hands were shaking. Maybe she should have taken him up on that offer for the shower. No! She was being ridiculous. He had only last, ah, helped her last night.

Apparently Malfoy's showers were rather short when he spent them alone because he was already joining her in the kitchen just after she had carefully diced all the mushrooms, peppers and onions. He sat down at the counter, facing her and looking over all her ingredients. He was wearing PJ pants but no shirt, the water dripping from his blonde hair to his pale shoulders, then tracing delicious patterns down his torso.

"Mushrooms in an omelette? Gross," he stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his nose after she dumped the veggies in the pan with a little bit of butter.

"Scramble," she corrected, "and it will be delicious. You like them anyways, so have an open mind about it. I know that might be difficult for you," she scowled, not appreciating the criticism. She WAS making him breakfast, after all.

"We'll see," he ignored the jibe. He didn't want to miss out on food this morning. "How long do those need to be in there for?" He asked, raising his eyes out of the pan to her chest, which was dangling enticingly over the pan, her royal blue blouse mercifully unbuttoned and her white tank top not quite covering her--especially at that angle. Her chocolate eyes flicked up and caught him. His eyes darted up to hers, a smirk drawn across his thin lips. She felt like she hadn't placed just her hand but her whole body accidentally on the burner with the breakfast. She jerked her hand off the stove and stuck two of her burnt fingers in her mouth. How could he turn her on with a look like that? She recalled her ten minute fantasy with the identity-less lover and cursed her subconscious for dooming her resolve. Stay focused, you're making breakfast.

"A few minutes, but honestly Malfoy, we just woke up!" She sighed, exasperated with him and her body's reactions.

"Not one for morning sex?" He slipped sideways off the stool and was behind her in a second, arms wrapped around her waist and his body pressed against hers, "it'll make your classes much easier to deal with." He kissed her neck--why did she have to put her hair up?--and pulled her hips back into him.

"Sex?!" She jumped a little, worried. Thankfully she managed to keep a grip on her turner. She distracted herself by using it to poke around the contents of the pan. She felt him laugh against her neck.

"Well, not sex. Don't worry, Granger, I know you're a goody little virgin--" he spat the word as if it were dirty "--and I wouldn't want to degrade myself by taking that from you. Just a little fun is all." He continued his work against her neck and his hand slid from her waist to the snap of her pants, slowly undoing it before she could protest.

"The...the food. It will burn," she stuttered, but she felt her head roll back onto his shoulder. He didn't laugh this time but only smiled.

"Forget the food. Don't worry, this one is on me. You can owe me later," he drawled dangerously close to her ear, eager to get one up on the Head Girl. One of his hands tugged the waist of her jeans slightly down so he could ever so teasingly run his fingers across her cotton panties, while the other ventured up, under her tank top, to knead her left breast.

"Wait, pay...back?" She asked, caught up in his touches early to the point where everything became incoherent.

"You know, you can repay the favor later today. I'll let you get away scott free for the morning," he purred, his hands continuing to tease her into submission. He just needed to know he could get her to cave in to him at his leisure. He was talented and he knew it. Now she just had to discover just how talented he was. Upon hearing her sigh in defeat and the clatter of the turner falling to the counter, he knew he was victorious. He had the sense of mind to quickly reach out and turn the burner off before he twirled her around to face him and pressed her into the counter next to the stove, one hand gripping hard enough to her hip to leave finger-sized bruises and the other anchored behind her head to crush her lips to his. She hardly fought back as he kissed her without remorse or mercy, finally granting full consent by moaning and using both hands to grip his back and pull him into her, kissing him back forcibly. He removed the hand from behind her head and trailed it slowly down her body, his fingers grazing ever so slightly against her skin as they made their way to her pants, already unbuttoned. He used both hands now to pull down her pants, and she quickly stepped out of them. He brought his hands up her entire body, from calf to thigh, maddeningly sliding out to her hips then up her stomach, under her tank top, pausing to massage her breasts, then lifting her tank top over her head. Only a bra and her underwear, as well as his pants separated them now.

Quickly now, without show, her panties were gone and discarded, joining the pool of clothes at their feet. He ran his hands back up her sides and then lifted her onto the counter, kissing her on the lips one last time before nipping and sucking nearly painfully--if she could have felt pain at this point--down between the swells of her breasts, down her stomach, then finally finding his target between her legs. She moaned at he played with her, sucking, licking, jabbing, nipping here and there, finding what she liked the best. For 15 minutes he drove her crazy, kept her constantly at the very edge before finding sudden interest in her thigh or stomach. When his fingers joined his tongue, carefully slipping just one into her at first, her moans doubled in volume and she clutched at the cabinets with fierce abandon.

She kept screaming at him, demanding that he stop messing around with those slow, tantalizing motions and hurry up with it when he added a second finger and she gasped. He finally brought his mouth from her skin, fingers still working maddeningly slow but unrelenting inside her, smiling evilly up as he saw her, disheveled and sweating, chest heaving and eyes wild, staring down at him.

"You have to beg," he said simply.

"BEG?! YOU WANT ME TO BEG?!" She screamed, pretty sure she was losing her sanity. The things Malfoy was doing to her body had to have been considered torture. She never felt so close to insanity--or was it sanity? she didn't know, her whole world was flipped around--in her entire life.

"Yes," he said, keeping his voice even and his gaze steady, "I want to hear you beg." She glared at him for a few seconds before realizing he was slowing, and a new flame of fear licked at her body. Was he going to stop?

"No!" she panted, "no! PLEASE, Malfoy, PLEASE would you stop teasing me and just fucking make me cum!! Please Malfoy I NEED to cum! Please, please!!" She was nearly sobbing, frantic for her release. The smirk returned.

"As you wish," he whispered before returning his mouth to her warm wetness and struck out with ceaseless force, finally breaking her through her prison of pleasure into the white light of bliss. Her body jerked as her mind went blank and registered nothing other than pure ecstasy. His fingers, mouth, and tongue worked overtime as she gasped and screamed, moaning and shuddering, cursing and thanking him in one incoherent stream of words. When he was sure she was through, he pulled her knickers up and stood, gloating and prideful, in front of her with his hands on her waist.

"Oh, go bugger yourself Malfoy, I am so going to make you wish you didn't ask me to beg," she bit, pulling her pants back on as soon as she remembered who and where she was. It was by far the best she'd ever had in her life, whether by her own hand or someone else's, but she couldn't let him be all superior about it. She was NOT going to let his smugness go unpunished. He merely laughed. No girl had ever returned the favor with as much...pizzaz?...as he had. He had never been to the point where he would beg a girl for anything. They always did the begging. While he was pleased to have one up on Granger, he was obviously not expecting THAT much from her efforts in the upcoming night. She pulled her over shirt back on and shook herself out, re-adjusting herself while Malfoy situated himself on the stood again.

She turned the pan back on and, as soon as she heard the veggies happily snapping and crackling in the butter, cracked an appropriate amount of eggs into the pan, pushing everything around with the turner.

"Why do you always cook food when the Great Hall provides it without effort?" Malfoy asked, watching her tend to breakfast.

"I happen to enjoy cooking, Malfoy. I love food and take pride in it's craft," she answered honestly, glad he wasn't gloating about making her beg. She knew he was still thinking about it, however, and would probably keep that as a prized memory until the day he died. The 'mudblood', begging him. The thought almost made her physically sick. She wouldn't show her embarrassment over it, though, because that would just inflate his ego more.

He shrugged in response and continued to watch her in silence for a few more moments.

"How did you learn?" He inquired, genuinely curious, after she sprinkled in what seemed to him an inexact amount of salt and pepper.

"I used to help my mom in the kitchen when I was little. And I would watch cooking shows when I got home from school." She turned the burner off and picked up the pan, tipping half the contents onto one plate and scraping the rest onto the other. She placed one on the counter in front of Malfoy and left the other by the stove before going to get forks and napkins for the two.

When she returned, she found the Slytherin had filled two glasses with milk, and took one. As he ate at the counter facing into the kitchen, she leaned against the counter and faced him, folding one leg up and placing it on her other knee while balancing on her other leg. The two talked civilly of their classes that day as they finished their meal.

With their food gone and all dishes washed, the two gathered their belongings and made their way towards the door that led to the hallway in comfortable conversation. While they would never be able to truly get along, they could manage stints of good behavior. Before they walked out of the portal, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

"Malfoy...er, thanks. For the morning...whatever," she did her best not to mumble, a slow blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Yeah, ok. Don't think I'm letting you get away with any of this one-sided business. You owe me. Tonight," he reminded her, snatching his arm away and slapping her smartly on the ass before disappearing out the door.

Tonight. She would have to get back at him for that embarrassing moment of weakness. He should know better than to think SHE would let HIM get away with THAT. Slipping through the door herself, she found a morning after the incident in the kitchen was indeed less stressful. She seemed more at peace in her classes, and did not once feel her mind lose concentration. On ways and methods to make Malfoy sorry, that is.