Chapter 4:

Draco's plan to avoid Hermione at all costs was an immediate failure. Their first lesson the next morning was Potions; a class with few students to begin with. Slughorn was then gracious enough to have them all partner up. Draco expected to be stuck with the dim witted Hufflepuffs, but Macmillan teamed up with Corner. Then Nott and Zabini, Boot and Patil, Potter and Weasley. That only left himself and Granger.

Draco glared as her figured loomed near. She plopped into the chair next to him, completely oblivious to the contempt. Her hands fumbled with her text book and she nearly upended her cauldron as soon as it was set up. Someone in the room snickered.

He couldn't help it; Draco was curious by nature. "What's got you flustered, Granger; got a T in Charms for being unable to fix that ugly mug of yours?"

She heard him. The muscles in her jaw flexed; her teeth ground together. Her deliberately slow and calming breath was audible. If she wasn't thoroughly riled before, she was now.

"It's completely understandable, failing, you know. I honestly doubt Flitwick could do much to improve your looks." Draco didn't know why he was egging her on. He should have kept quiet, not looked her direction, and completed the potion without so much as a "pass the frog livers".

Hermione still seemed impervious to Draco's attempts to annoy her. Rather, she didn't acknowledge him. In fact, her hands were very steady as she counted drops into the cauldron. Was he making her feel better? He set his scowl firmly in place and grabbed the ladle. The only reason partners were even needed was because the potion had to be stirred constantly, switching directions after a changing number of stirs. As soon as the last Willow Twigs were added, Draco began counting.

One… two… three… switch… one… two… three… four… add spider webs… six… switch… one… switch. He looked ahead in the book and memorized the next few sets of stirs before he turned back to the cauldron. He tried to ignore Hermione as she had been to him. Every few seconds her hands would come into view, the same ones that had gripped his thighs in his dream. He mentally slapped himself. That was not okay to think about. He already was going to have to be especially careful to guard that if legilimency was used on him again.

Four… five… six… seven… eight… switch… one… Damn her legs look nice… His eyes had wandered up from the rim of the cauldron to her knees, then her thighs, held tightly together beneath the skirt. His breath hitched.

"Malfoy!" Her voice shattered his temporarily silent world. Had she caught him staring?

"Keep stirring…"

Draco's hand had stilled when his mind had taken a stroll with his eyes. Disgusted, he bit down on his tongue and focused his every ounce of attention on the ripples of the liquid in the cauldron. Thankfully, his pause in stirring hadn't ruined the project.

"Ron, no!"

Every head in the class snapped up to where Potter and Weasley were working. Harry was flinging the wooden spoon about trying to clear the deep purple smoke that had engulfed the two of them. Draco smiled, certain Weasley had added too many drops of lilac juice.

"Idiot," Draco and Hermione intoned. They both gave each other a sharp look, which was held for a moment too long. He couldn't turn away though, not from the dark brown eyes that had thrown him awake that morning.

"Now, now, everyone return to your potions," Slughorn advised as he stepped back to help Potter and Weasley clear up the mess. Draco quickly snapped his head back down and stirred as if his very life depended on the accuracy. His free arm rested in on his thighs, over his groin area. He didn't know what had just come over him, but he knew he needed to find Pansy as soon as possible.

Two weeks later, Pansy walked into the Great Hall for breakfast completely disgruntled. She hadn't been able to sleep peacefully since the night Granger had caught her and Draco in the tower. Granger, that bushy-haired, leggy seductress. Pansy couldn't even be bothered to censor her thoughts anymore. Every night she inexplicably dreamt of the Gryffindor girl in ways that made even her blush.

In one, they had started out by going skinny dipping in the lake, which gave Pansy a fantastic view of Hermione's curvy figure in the moonlight. In another, she had tied Pansy to a chair and slowly removed every piece of her suddenly tantalizing school uniform. The sex always varied from hurried and excited to painfully slow and passionate. It was during one of these dreams that Pansy realized she and Draco hadn't had sex everywhere in the caste, they had yet to make it into the Gryffindor common room.

As she slumped into her seat, Pansy sighed. Oh Draco. Every morning after these dreams or after classes she shared with Hermione, Pansy would have an overwhelming need to find release, fast. She and Draco would go at it at least once an afternoon now. Later she would lay in bed writhing beneath her own fingers, her eyes shut tight with the image of a half-dressed Gryffindor standing over her. None of it made any difference. As soon as her eyes fell on Hermione again or her mind took over in the night, the need would come back.

Pansy was torn over so many things. She hated that her body had turned against her like this. Draco had always been more than fantastic as a partner, why now was she suddenly so drawn to women? A woman. A Gryffindor woman at that! She forcefully scraped the spoon into her bowl of porridge to release some frustration. Pansy couldn't even say it. She couldn't look Draco in the eye after a quick shag and tell him that though he had made her cry out in bliss, it just wasn't enough anymore.

She wondered if he knew though. Draco's eyes, the only indicator he ever had of his internal workings, seemed to say something to her when they finished. When he rested his forehead on hers and looked deep into her eyes. It was almost as if he wanted to say "what is it? Why isn't this right?"

She didn't have an answer of course. Pansy didn't know why heat pooled at her core when Hermione walked by. She didn't know why the thought of licking another girl's wet cunt sounded to enticing. She didn't know why when she shut her eyes while Draco pounded into her and only thought of Hermione; her hair and tits bouncing in sync.

Thinking over the whole situation had been a bad idea though. Just sitting at the breakfast table and pondering the girl had caused Pansy to soak her underwear. She finished her last bite and excused herself. If she was quick, she'd have just enough time to slip back into her dorm and get herself off before class. It was embarrassing, the need she had, and it had to stop.

Right as she passed through the doors to the Entrance Hall, she spotted Granger, alone. She looked angry as she marched down the stairs. Pansy didn't mean to stare; she didn't want to be caught looking, but the delightful sight of the sexy witch walking her way kept her gaze fixated. The books Hermione held to her stomach pushed her breasts up and out. Fearing she'd do something stupid if she stayed, Pansy quickly turned to the stairs that led down to the dungeons.

Five minutes later, her skirt was up, her legs were wide, and her fingers were pumping madly. Pansy had never called Hermione's name out loud. In all of the releases she had given herself over the last fortnight, keeping the dorm constantly perfumed with her scent, she had always had the sense to keep quiet. But everyone was at breakfast and she couldn't get the image of those perky breasts, ready to be taken in by her own mouth, right there in the Entrance Hall.

Pansy's front two teeth bit down hard on her lower lip. The name came out in a strangled cry. "Hrr-my-nee!" The wave of relief and euphoria that crashed into her stilled everything but her wildly beating heart and heavy breathing. Her head fell back on to the headboard and then she looked to the side. There, on her nightstand, was a small slip of paper with a large "W" emblazoned on the top.