The next three chapters are connected, so I'll try to release them in quicker succession for continuity for you WIP followers.
About the previews: I can give previews because I'm always a few chapters ahead. It's not to "make you wait" for those chapters, but rather so it's easier for me to make edits without having to edit published stuff. I hate that practice. Also, it ensures that you never have to wait months for updates, even though I may not be able to write for months. ;) So, there you have it. Insider info of the week (although I think I said it before).
Hermione sat in her room doodling. Normally, she would be doodling in the library, but lately she found herself tensing up as soon as she set foot in the room. She also found herself anticipating the appearance of one Draco Malfoy to bother her again. Because bother her was what he did.
However, it had now been almost one full week since last time and he was not bothering her. Which bothered her.
He was also right about something.
That bothered her more.
She did sort of want to sleep with him. It was just that the one time she had initiated it, he had refused to go through with it. So, was the fact that he'd called her on it a roundabout invitation, or was he just playing with her again? Attempting something again just to be rejected would be downright mortifying. But wouldn't he want to have sex, just because?
She stopped doodling as a realization hit her.
She was approaching this as if getting into bed with him was the problem when really the problem was… it was….
Huh.
She had lost sight of the problem. All she could think of was what it would feel like to sneak down to the dungeons and have him make good on his threat to make her scream "yes".
Clearly, something was wrong with her head.
Ok, she could look at this from another angle.
Yes, she wanted to have sex with him. There was a physical attraction there that was undeniably getting stronger. True, he had said those things about never dating her, but did she want to be his girlfriend? No. She didn't trust him or his motives and she didn't truly fancy him. She just wanted to release some of this energy that had built between them. She was a practical girl; she could see nothing wrong with doing that as long as they both were unattached and nobody got hurt.
What was the worst that could happen?
Now, there was a tricky question. He could turn her down. He could ridicule her and call her a slag. He could be horribly mean and hurtful. He could humiliate her in front of the entire school.
The thing was that none of this would be anything new coming from him.
He could also accept and turn out to be a bad lover. It would be rather disappointing to have all this energy fizzle into nothing by having a less than satisfying encounter. She sort of doubted that would happen, though. This wasn't about technique or anything like that, it was about… his hands on her. How it made her feel. There really weren't many ways to mess that up, especially considering how good it had always felt in the past. It would be good no matter what.
She stared at her doodle.
Had she just casually decided to sleep with Draco Malfoy?
Draco's head was aching, but he was feeling mighty pleased with himself. He'd just finished another essay and that meant that as long as he got up early in the morning to do the last one he had, he would have the entire rest of the weekend off. He couldn't wait to do... nothing.
He had just put away his books, and was getting ready for bed, when there was a soft knock at his door. That was unexpected. And unwelcome. It was probably a clogged toilet somewhere. Hogwarts could really use some new plumbing. Or at the very least some students that dared bother the teachers or Filch directly. He certainly wasn't interested in dealing with this right now.
"Go away," he said with a slightly raised voice.
There was another knock, and he sighed
"I don't care," he said. "Find Nott if you really need someone to fix it right now." He began unbuttoning his shirt.
"I'm not sure you mean that," a voice said.
He started and whirled around. He hadn't heard the door open.
Then he couldn't help but snarl. This was just cruel. "Leave, Granger."
She blinked. "Wow, I hadn't quite pegged that as your response."
"You're here to test my boundaries," he growled. "Fucking great. They have been tested. Now, leave."
Instead she leaned against the door, studying him. "I didn't think you'd be mad."
Mad? It hurt. Badly. He knew she had no intention of going through with anything; she was just here to remind him that he wanted her. She knew he wasn't going to make her have sex with him just because she came down here and she'd just wanted to call his bluff. It was probably all because he'd been avoiding her lately and she needed to reassure herself that he was still a sucker for her.
Well, he was. But he didn't feel like reassuring her.
"What do you want?" he asked. Maybe he could at least hear her cover story.
"I want to talk."
"You couldn't find anybody else to talk to?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "I wanted to talk to you. About... about sex."
The shock rooted him in place, unable to respond. She was going to get him worked up talking about sex? Damn it, she hadn't even started and it was already working.
Right now he came very close to hating her.
"I mean…" she elaborated, when he didn't respond, "talk about having sex. You and me."
She must want to torture him. That must be it.
The worst part was that he didn't even really want her to stop.
"You need to be more specific than that."
She was looking annoyed. "That was specific."
"Not really. Are you here to shag or to talk?"
Her annoyance seemed to increase tenfold. "Keep responding like that and you'll never find out."
"I told you to stay away."
"No… you didn't really. You said you wouldn't answer for the consequences if I didn't…." She seemed to falter a bit. "Semantics," she muttered, fumbling behind her back for the door handle.
He decided she wasn't going to get away with this so easily and went over and leaned on the door, effectively both keeping it shut and invading her personal space. "So, start talking."
Hermione felt like such an idiot. She had known, hadn't she? He'd just wanted to keep her away and his hostile demeanor confirmed it. This was the most harebrained idea she had ever had. She just wanted to get out of there.
But he was actively preventing her, undoubtedly taking pleasure in her discomfort.
What was she supposed to reply?
"I forgot what I wanted to say." Ok, that was quite possibly the lamest reply ever.
He looked very much as if he thought the same thing. "Something to do with sex," he helpfully offered.
"Right. We shouldn't have it." She looked away. She couldn't do this. This was definitely the last time she would be so stupid. Yes, he had called her on her want, but he hadn't truly indicated that he still returned it. He had just proven a point. Why she had assumed otherwise, she wasn't sure anymore.
"You came all the way down here to tell me we shouldn't have sex?" he slowly asked. "At this hour? Just like that? I may not be as smart as you, but I find that hard to believe."
Praying for fortitude, she decided it was time to brazen it out. She shrugged. "Well, initially, I had thought we could discuss the nature of this attraction and whether it was strong enough to warrant actually having sex, but you made your position pretty clear already so I don't think there's a lot more to talk about. It's nice to know, though. Keeps me from making any stupid mistakes." She cringed, fully anticipating that he'd point out that she'd already made the most stupid mistake.
For a very long moment he stared at her, his jaw slack. It would have been amusing if she hadn't been so focused on keeping up an uncaring appearance while being ready to be swallowed up by the ground.
Finally, he spoke. "You really do think I don't want you, don't you?"
And the embarrassment just got worse and worse. "Fine, you do," she managed. "But you want any witch on some level, don't you?"
"What? Where did you get that?" He frowned at her.
He was really standing too close. It just added to the feeling that he had the upper hand and she didn't like it. She tried to look at something that wasn't him, but he was filling her line of vision. "For instance, when you were wearing the bracelet, you were just looking at some random girl and… feeling it." Oh, for crying out loud, why did she have to stumble on those last words? He had just looked at a girl and let her feel through the ring how he got randy; it wasn't such a big deal.
His face cleared and he grinned. "Oh, yeah."
She scowled at him. Good of him to remind her of a few more reasons why this was a bad idea.
"But I wasn't thinking of her," he murmured.
Her eyes widened and she shrank away from him, considering whether getting away from his physical presence might be worth stepping into the room and away from the door. "Nice, Malfoy. I might have believed you if you hadn't overplayed your hand."
He groaned. "I honestly can't believe you won't believe me on this."
"You have to admit that the evidence is in my favor."
"And what evidence would that be?" he asked. "How I toss off until I'm practically raw whenever we've just spoken to each other? Or what about the 'evidence' you were there for when I could barely stop because I was so ready to just—"
"So you get randy! I get it."
"Finally!"
"So do I!" Oh, crap, why had she said that? She must have lost her sense somewhere on her way here. Or possibly even before that. Why had she come here, again?
His interest certainly seemed to have been piqued. "Really?"
She ignored the fact that her face was practically flaming with the blushes that she had been so good at holding back just a few minutes ago. "I just don't believe it's all about me."
"Then who— what— ugh, you're impossible." He pushed away from the door just enough to finally let her breathe a bit.
She shrugged. "It's not like it even matters much."
"It matters."
She tilted her head. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Because... it just does! It's just impossible."
"Right. Any particular reason for that?"
"Because even if dating you wasn't such a ludicrous concept in itself, it... just wouldn't work, would it?" Draco muttered, looking almost sad.
"Right," Hermione said, praying that her voice wouldn't betray how the reminder of how unsuitable she was stung, "but what does that have to do with having sex?"
Draco was convinced that he stared at her for a full minute. "Look," he finally croaked. "I'm not sure you realize…."
"Realize what?"
He ran a hand through his hair. Damn her. His head was spinning and she expected him to make sense? "You don't want to have sex with me."
"Why not?"
"Aren't those things supposed to mean something?"
"What? Because I'm a girl?" Her expression clearly told him that 'yes' would be the wrong answer to that.
"Fickle," he muttered, earning a glare.
"That's a horribly outdated point of view," she said, turning her nose up at him. "I don't believe in just blindly sleeping around, but if there's a strong sexual attraction, I don't see why one shouldn't act on it. It would probably be better than what most people our age experience."
She was talking about having sex with him as if it might actually happen. As if it would be good. He would have to have been made of stone for that not to turn him on. "Just answer me something…" he whispered, invading her personal space again.
"What?" Was he imagining things or was she not drawing quite as far away as she normally would.
"Have you ever thought about me?" he muttered.
"Thought—?" she looked a little insecure about what he meant, and that cute blush seemed like it was there to stay.
"Yeah. While touching yourself…."
Her eyes widened. "Th-that's not—"
"Just reply, please."
She closed her eyes, looking quite mortified. He almost took pity on her. Almost. Then her eyes opened again and she straightened her back. "Yes."
A shiver went through him and his legs nearly gave out. Tease or no tease, this was worth it. It was his turn to close his eyes, as he couldn't help but imagine how she'd look. "Thank you," he whispered and had never meant anything quite as heartfelt in his life. It didn't even matter if she had lied.
He wanted her so much.
"I want you…." he quietly said.
"That's why I'm here."
This time the feeling of his legs giving out was so powerful that he was thankful he was leaning his weight against the door. It was insane that she should have this effect on him.
"It doesn't have to be tonight," she continued. "I realize that it's late and I—"
He kissed her just to make her shut up before she talked herself into changing her mind. Enough was enough. She stiffened in surprise, but then she hesitantly put her arms around his neck and returned the kiss, stepping closer and pressing against him.
He didn't think he'd ever felt quite this good before. He wanted her so badly that he literally just had to picture her face....
She seemed almost shy in the way she let him kiss her. He liked it—it beat her slapping him any day—but it was a bit odd compared to how she usually acted around him. He let his one hand slide down to her waist and around her back, pressing her closer to him. She complied. He let his lips slide down to her neck, and she made it easier for him. Going back up to her mouth, he grinned. If she was going to be this malleable for the whole thing, then… well!
"What's so funny?" she demanded, pushing away from him.
"You're easy." He grinned again when she gaped at him. "I mean," he said, before she got any ideas about what he meant, "you're compliant. I like it. Please be compliant more often."
She narrowed her eyes and shoved at him until he had to take a couple of steps backwards. "You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?" she asked, shoving just as hard at him again, making him take another couple of steps until his legs hit his bed. "Words coming out of your mouth is always a bad thing." A third shove made him lose his balance and sit down heavily on the bed, where she straddled him. "Now, shut up." She kissed him deeply before he could even process what was happening.
Hermione was on his lap, kissing him, and suddenly he'd forgotten what he'd been teasing her about. He flipped her onto the bed and crawled on top of her. This was what he wanted to do more than anything. Who could blame him if he was just a tiny bit uncertain whether it was actually happening?
She shoved at his shirt and he was more than willing to help her get it off, but then she suddenly went still. At first he didn't quite understand, for some reason he'd simply forgotten, but then he realized.
It was the Dark Mark.
