A/N: The quickest update for the...well...year! Happy 2010! xx
Was it even possible to label something 'a mistake' if it happened a second time?
Hermione was wedged between the vanity and Malfoy, his hands had come around to grip her thighs as he lifted her up and seated her on the bench top. It wasn't as though the whole scene of events that she was currently privy to were taking place behind rose coloured glasses of lust and irrationality. The more contact she had with Malfoy, and the longer it lasted, the clearer the whole situation became.
Could Hermione let herself admit that she had missed the Slytherin's lips on hers after a mere two days?
That is exactly how she felt, as Malfoy tugged at her lower lip, while his hands gripped at her hair, the wet mass of her curls tousled around them. His tongue massaged hers with such an impious abandon, she had willingly opened her legs to him.
But did she miss his lips because they were his, or because they brought with them a release only he could provide?
It no longer mattered as her hands lifted his shirt tails and crept underneath. The feel of his skin brought with it a smidgen more satisfaction as he leaned against her, and she felt all of him.
Malfoy suddenly broke away, his hands still cupping her head as he stared into her eyes with intrigue, his nostrils slightly flared, and his breaths short.
Hermione looked at him questioningly.
"Why did you stop?" she heard herself ask, before she could register the nature of her question. His eyes wrinkled with amusement and satisfaction.
Her hands were still beneath his shirt, resting on his abs.
"I think we need to set some ground rules, Granger," he let out, his voice heavy as he slid his hands down Hermione's neck, across her collar bone and down between the valley of her breasts, before he cupped them and let his thumbs graze over her aroused peaks. Hermione barely registered his words as her eyes closed involuntarily and she moaned at the contact.
"Not while... y- you have the upper hand, Malfoy," she managed, opening her eyes and giving the Slytherin a most sly grin as she brought her hands to his belt buckle, undoing all the hooks, buttons and zips restraining his reaction to her. She tugged at his trousers and boxers, and took him in her grasp. She began to stroke him.
"Two can play this game," he breathed, as he brought one hand down and rubbed where she would react most. His fingers toyed with her, working at her in a rhythm that mimicked her actions on him.
She was so ready for him; she instinctively arched into his fingers, and gripped him tighter. He groaned against her shoulder as he leant over to support himself.
Were they even in a position to agree on anything?
"If -, he let out a groan between breaths. Hermione smirked. He pressed down on her sensory nub and rubbed voraciously, returning the favour. She moaned, the now familiar pull in her lower abdomen intensifying. "If...we do this, you need to stop...pretending that you don't... want this," Hermione's eyes snapped open as she exhaled.
"You need to stop being a prick," she breathed, releasing her hold on him, pushing him away. They were both left in a state of unfulfilled frustration, eyeing each other down, both bare and aroused.
If they were going to have a face off, why not bare it all? She leant back and sprawled her arms out to support her weight, her posture opening up to him. She could see the effect on him as he stared at her hungrily.
"Granger!" he growled with aggravation at the sudden turn of events. "What I meant is that we acknowledge this," he gestured toward their nakedness, "and just go with it."
Hermione could feel the discomfort of unsated pleasure as the dull throb between her legs only served to irritate her more. She groaned out loud at his comment, dismissing it.
"Malfoy, you're only saying that because you want to get laid. Tomorrow, it will be the same old game between us. We can't go on like this! How will I pass my NEWTs!" She exhaled with exasperation.
The Slytherin had the audacity to laugh. "Typical Granger, of course you're worried about grades." He took a deep breath, holding the bridge of his nose as if he were struggling with a concept. "I don't need your help to get laid, Granger," he bit out, "I need..." he opened his eyes, and waved his arms toward her vaguely.
Hermione glared back at him, frustrated, "just say it, Malfoy, or get out."
"Fine!" he thundered, before lowering his tone at the crux of the issue, "I need you." He watched her reaction closely, taking in every minute muscle movement.
"Oh," she murmured quietly, suddenly very aware of her surroundings and current state. She sat up straight and moved to cover herself with her robe. Malfoy stepped forward.
"Don't." She was flummoxed by the gentleness of his tone. He leaned into her, tracing his lips along her shoulder, nipping up her neck to her chin before sealing his lips with hers once again. He was testing the waters, kissing her slowly and carefully, waiting for a signal to resume where they had left off.
You can't make the same mistake twice.
She pulled back. "You can't be serious?" he ran his fingers thorough his hair, sighing with resignation. Hermione remained silent for a moment.
"Your shirt's still on," she stated finally, her lips curling into an audacious smile as Malfoy looked at her, incredulous. She slid off the vanity top, and stepped up to him, beginning to undo the buttons of his oxford. He stood silent as she reached the last button, letting her hand graze over his arousal as she reached his lower abdomen. She wondered if she was torturing him by letting him wait so long. The whole prospect of it made her cheeks burn.
The Slytherin chuckled at her reaction, it only made her more conscious of the novelty of it all.
It was clear that Malfoy wanted to move things along, as he pulled off his shirt in haste and snuck his hands under Hermione's robe, letting it slip off her once and for all. It was her turn to let out a small laugh as the battle for control was once again in his favour. It seemed that nothing perturbed a Slytherin with a hard on.
There was no need for further introductions or acknowledgment of their readiness as Malfoy attacked Hermione's mouth with a heated fervour that stirred the fire within the pit of her stomach. He pushed her back against the tiled wall, the coolness on her back heightening the warmth of his body flush against hers.
All this waiting and taunting had worked them both up to a fenzy and she felt herself being lifted up against the wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around the Slytherin's body, drawing him in. A small moan at the feel of skin on skin escaped her lips. Hermione adjusted herself and felt him against her opening, teasing her entrance as his lips devoured hers, his hands gripped against her waist, pinning her against the wall.
She moaned into his mouth, grinding herself against him to signal her readiness.
The second time was definitely different. There was no need for formalities, he waited for her to adjust and she instinctively allowed herself to relax. The experience was overwhelming, she felt every single sensory ending burst into flame, revelling in the sensations rather than worrying about the mechanics.
It was frantic and needy.
It made for a whole new level of the uncontrollable as she submitted to her satisfaction, her body arching into him and her head falling back against the wall as he attacked her neck. Their now perspiring bodies making it harder to control the friction as he drove into her.
Instinctive gasps echoed against the tiled walls, as the sound of their heavy breaths filled the space. Hermione gripped Malfoy's shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as her flame burst, her body clenching and releasing around him. She was so focused on her body's reaction, she hardly noticed the sound of his release enveloping them.
It was the best exhaustion she could fathom.
Malfoy leaned into her as they regained control of their hear rates, kissing at her neck before grazing over her ear, whispering, "I can assure you, Granger, this won't be on any NEWT examination."
She trembled slightly, the exertion taking its toll as her mind processed his comment.
The prat was still inside her. "Let me down, Malfoy." He really didn't have an ounce of thoughtfulness. He obliged, sensing her tone of dissatisfaction.
"It was a joke, Granger," he reasoned. She walked over to her robe, covering her perspiring body.
"Some joke, Malfoy." He knew how she felt about her studies.
"Fine, whatever," he began to redress. Hermione walked out of the bathroom, ignoring the slight discomfort that her body was still adjusting to. She reached for her book bag, pulling out the reference from the Nott library.
To think that Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger could ever reach an accord on anything was the first stumbling block of their whole affair. But, to consider that it was over their sleeping arrangements, the sort that would get one into all sorts of nooks and crannies of the Hogwarts castle, would have been enough to give both of them a hernia.
He had admitted his need for her, but no ounce of respect had come with that. It meant nothing more than what was necessary. She turned to him as he walked out of the bathroom, his gaze inscrutable. How predictable.
She shoved the book into his chest.
"You should read this, I don't have the time." He grabbed it just as she let go, his fingers stroking the scaly leather cover. "Oh, and its Theo's," she smirked, knowing that would rile him.
His eyes narrowed at her name drop, although she couldn't tell if he was angry at the fact that she had met with Theo, or that Theo had informed her of something that would expose Malfoy. Who knew how those cunning, self-serving Slytherins operated.
Shaking her head to rid her overbearing thoughts, she walked over to her bedroom door and opened it, signalling her desire for him to exit. Malfoy came toward her, pausing momentarily as if he planned to say something, and then thinking the better of it before stepping out of her room. As she moved to close the door, he finally turned.
"Granger, always a pleasure," he drawled, an apparent disinterest in the whole affair washing over him. She had failed to notice the flicker of hesitation in his eyes before his snide remark.
"Fuck off," her choice of words did not escape either of them as she slammed the door.
Who said it wasn't possible to make the same mistake twice.
It was somewhat easier to emotionally detach from recollections of the heated session in her bathroom. Then again, it had only been twelve hours since she had tamed her prodigious desire.
Was it a bad sign that she was counting?
If it wasn't for the damned contract staring her in the face, Hermione could have been less creative in her endeavours to seek vengeance against one Draco Malfoy. He had pushed her buttons into overdrive, and she was determined to act out.
She leaned back into the velvet arm chair, kicking her shoes off and lifting one leg to tuck it under the other.
A contract always had a technical loophole.
To arrive back to her original vendetta – to drive the Head boy out of the Head digs – only meant one thing. Hermione Granger, despite her shameful, ill driven attraction toward Malfoy, still despised him. She took hold of the parchment to scan over each of their obligations slowly.
She glanced down at their signatures; Malfoy had scrawled his name almost illegibly save for the first letters of his name, which dominated in elegant script, and his egotistical 'y' that looped all over the place. It oozed authority, like it meant something to bear the name Draco Malfoy compared with her neat, orderly mark.
It was apparent that they should have both lost their head badge twice over by now. Hermione had done nothing to avoid the other Slytherins, she had played Malfoy prior to his Quidditch match, and her only endeavour to find a cure was to spin a whole new web of variables.
Her eyes travelled over his obligations. He had barely been civil to her, he was still a right prat when it came to Head duties, and he had hardly exercised self control, storming out of the classroom and barging into her bathroom unbeknownst to her relaxing state to cunningly seek out a replay of events. She finally blushed at the thought. After all, she was the one who had finally succumbed to his advances.
And then, she saw it.
Her loophole.
Hermione's eyes gleamed as she leaped up, a triumphant smile brightening her face.
She slipped her shoes on, rolled up the contract, and stared up at the look alike Malfoy in the enigmatic tapestry smugly. "The pleasure is all mine, Malfoy," she announced, before exiting with a determined pace.
Hermione had always despised patrolling the dungeons. It was enough to endure potions in the depths of the cold castle, but being there any other time sent involuntary shivers down her spine. She still felt uneasy, even with her sense of purpose, as she made her way to the Slytherin dorms.
A group of fifth year girls emerged from behind the vault entrance in the thick stone walls. She straightened up, knowing that even her most confident air of authority as Head girl would be easily dismissed. They blocked the entrance, eyeing her carefully.
"I have duties to oversee in the Slytherin common room, so if you girls don't mind, I'm kind of in a hurry," she stated impatiently. They eyed her up and down, before one stepped forward.
"Draco usually looks after Slytherin house business, why the sudden change?" she inquired accusingly. Hermione rolled her eyes, and pulled out the rolled up contract. "I have orders from the Headmaster," she directed, "not that I need to prove myself to you, I have a right to withhold information from non-prefects. I'd rather get this over with before dinner, the dungeons tend to spoil one's appetite," she responded.
The almost black eyes of the Slytherin remained fixed on her momentarily, before she tilted her head and her lips curled into a sly smile. "Fine," she retorted, gesturing for the girls to clear the passageway. "Oh, watch out for the snakes." The other girls giggled as they walked away.
Hermione stared after them, momentarily surprised by the Slytherin's audacity to threaten the Head girl. She turned into the vault's entrance, staring into the blackness of her destination. She suddenly felt the hairs behind her neck stand on end.
'Get it together, Hermione!' she mentally berated as she stepped into the darkness.
The gradual appearance of torches signalled her arrival into the Slytherin common room as the tunnelled corridor transformed into a great fan vaulted, column flanked, high gothic space of spectacular height. It was so strikingly different to the cosy Gryffindor common room, with its cool green Persian rugs, its dark leather couches, and great fireplaces.
All in all, it was tasteful, frosty, unfeeling.
She could never curl up and relax in here.
Her presence seemed to be noticed by a few nearby third years, eying her with vague intrigue as she began to walk through the common area. Although they were on their own turf, they dared not show their disrespect, the greater goal of house points governing their demeanour. A young boy stood up, nodded at her meekly before disappearing into the recesses of the areas where the older students sat. She followed after him, figuring he was reporting her unconventional visit.
The space was so vast, the stone columns so thick, her view of what lay behind each of them could only be assumed. She walked along, looking into each area, ignoring the surprised looks, the sneers, the grimaces and the whispers. She could not believe the hostility in the air, after all these years. It made her realise one thing - if any of these Slytherins ever found out about her and Malfoy, any semblance of respect for the Head girl by this lot would go straight out the window.
Not to mention the reaction from her own house mates, except for Lavender and Pavarti of course.
She frowned, ignoring the fleeting moment of compassion for Malfoy and his bloody image. They were both walking on eggshells with this whole 'thing' and she was certain he would never have such a passing thought of its effect on her.
Suddenly, Daphne emerged from behind one of the columns, catching her off guard. Hermione almost yelped as she registered the glaring blonde.
"Daphne," she stated, trying to calm her pounding heart. What was wrong with her?
"What brings you here, Granger?" Daphne was all too intrigued by unusual company. They stood eyeing one another, Daphne waiting expectantly for a response, Hermione trying to maintain her cool at the fact that she had to even give one.
"What's going on here?" a voice interrupted. Hermione averted her eyes from Daphne, straight into the sparkling sapphires of one Blaise Zabini. She wanted to exhale with relief but his stony face was hardly inviting a smile from the familiar.
Hermione pursed her lips, breathing out quietly through her nose, wondering how best to approach the situation. She was not one for backing down from a challenge, and she was going to see her plan through.
It didn't help that Daphne decided to link arms with him, leaning into him like he was claimed.
Ignoring Daphne, she turned toward Blaise, relying on her gaze to signal her need.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked straight out.
"Why would Blaise want to talk to you," Daphne sneered. It wasn't even a question.
Hermione ignored her, keeping her eyes on Blaise, knowing that it was annoying the blonde next to him.
He nodded slightly, understanding the context of her request. "Oh, shit, I totally forgot we had that potions task to finish. At least being your partner serves one good purpose, Granger," he smirked, a twinkle in his eye. Daphne frowned. Blaise turned to her smiling, "Sorry, Daph, I completely blanked that Granger had made me meet her in the library. Nice of you to come and remind me, Granger," Hermione could sense the amusement in his voice.
Daphne probably read it as sarcasm. "It's not something worth remembering," she taunted.
"Glad I could refresh your memory," Hermione said flatly, rolling her eyes.
"I just need to grab my books, you might need to come help me lug some of them, Pince is going to fine me a whole lot of galleons if I don't return them," Blaise stated, his tone indifferent. It was still unclear whether he was keeping up a charade or if he was still annoyed with Hermione. He unlinked his arm from Daphe, "I'll catch up with you at dinner Daph?" he gave her that dazzling smile that would make any girl melt like chocolate.
"Sure, Blaise, we'll continue where we left off," she kissed his cheek, eyeing Hermione off before walking away.
Was that a pang of...jealously? Hadn't she only just tamed the potion's effect with Malfoy?
Once Daphne was out of earshot, Blaise spoke up again, "pretty brave of you to enter Slytherin domain, Hermione," he whispered as he gestured for her to follow him to his dorm room.
"Pretty presumptuous of you to think that I would accompany you to your dorm room, Blaise," she whispered back, half smiling.
"You are, aren't you?" he grinned, much to Hermione's relief, and led her to the back of the common room to a portrait of a hooded wizard with a great snake coiled around his shoulders and dozens at his feet. He whispered a password, which Hermione failed to catch as she was too busy recalling the fifth year's threat to watch out for the snakes. It was clear that she had meant the Slytherin guys. They stepped through the portrait into a hallway flanked with doors. Blaise opened one near the end and led her inside.
"So, what really brings you down here? As far as I know, you have no outstanding potions work, nor will you ever," Blaise questioned as he shut the door and turned to face her, leaning against it.
Hermione scanned over the room, before turning around and pulling out her rolled up parchment.
"I need you to help me brew a batch of l'etat d'esprit," she stated.
His stony expression returned as his eyes narrowed. "I thought we were past all this? Besides, Draco's the only one with the blue blood," he finally let out.
"Wrong, Draco has a version of blue blood."
A/N: Oooh, what has Hermione realised? A very fun chappie to write. Alert it, review it...please! xo