A/N: Hi, hello, it's me. I haven't posted in a while, but I've got a few weeks until uni comes and claims my ass, so I'll try and post as much as possible. Hope you enjoy. This is a flashback from Year 7.

Excuses are what we need to get through life. Tiny little pockets of gold that free us from the tormenting thoughts that keep us up at night. I wouldn't know where I'd be without excuses, without the ability to rectify my decisions, my actions, with lying reason.

And I had lied all week, keeping my experience with Draco Malfoy in Slytherin Tower a secret, even to my two truest friends. Perhaps because it felt good to keep something just for myself, or maybe because they would look at me with a different set of eyes if they knew I had allowed him in… penetrating my protective bubble.

Draco had redeemed himself to somewhat of a degree in Harry's eyes, especially after he had fought with us, opposed to against us, when we battled Voldemort. Though Ron was unshaken. His brother had been killed. His family had been torn apart. And blood was harder to wash off of a conscience than a few bad memories.

Harry would have understood with less hatred.

Ron would have just hated, and hated… and hated some more.

Alas, Ginny could tell something was different. She noticed me flushing in the face whenever a seventh year came passed, dressed in emerald robes. Though I hadn't said much, other than that I felt a little sick and shaky, and maybe the nerves of my unfinished homework was weighing too close to home.

As Thursday came around, six days after our secret meeting, I saw Malfoy standing in the courtyard, talking to Isobel Wretching. She was a pretty girl with blonde hair and fluttery, doe-eyes. A student who would have been better suited for Hufflepuff, opposed to Slytherin. Though it was her fathers affiliation with the dark arts that caused the sorting hat to take an unexpected turn, and one that saw a brief relationship with Draco, in question.

I saw him smirk, the bruising on his face now alleviated entirely. He wore his shirt sleeves down during the day, not wanting to show off that Death Eater mark. Though Isobel was reaching over, playing with his hand.

The image I'd been keeping of him in my head burned to nothing, and I walked past with a vigor that rustled a small wind, alerting him as I went.

Really, what was I expecting? I didn't want us to be friends outside of our arrangement, though I didn't expected to be toyed with. I was Hermione Granger, not some common room slut. If his… areas… were touching other… areas… I didn't want them near mine!

I thought of myself as a virgin, if not for the few times with Ronald.

Though I doubt they could be considered as sex, as they included no passion, no romance, no touching of the explicit kind. It was just a romp on his bed after quidditch practice, and then another time at The Burrow, when I'd been wearing a little dress and we'd let the mood take us. But still, I'd never… orgasmed. He did. But I had just rocked about on the bed for the best part of ten minutes.

If I ever had experienced a climax in life – not involving the happiness I got from a new book – it would have been in private, with one of those vibrating wands from Va-Va-Broom. And I'd never expect Draco Malfoy to be able to deliver anything other than selfishness, so what was I expecting? A bit of loyalty… from the man who nearly killed Dumbledore?

My thoughts continued to hiss like a hot kettle, and continued well into even the night.

Friday morning came, and Draco didn't so much as glance my way in The Great Hall. I shamefully tried to steal a glance, one that would confirm I hadn't made up everything in my head, though as Isobel Wretching flaunted herself over his lap, feeding him a grape from the bouquet on the table, I stood and marched across the room.

I'd been played. A fool.

It was the one day I performed poorly in Potions class, and messed up an entire batch of Sickleweed Milk. A little elixir meant to cure Fizzlebumps. The cauldron exploded and one of the Ravenclaw girls had to go to the hospital wing, riddled with pimples.

I'd been given another free pass, and sent to Hagrid's for the afternoon, to help tend to a few of the magical creatures kept near his hut. I said nothing, letting him prattle on about his dealings in Scotland, and picked the feathers of a pheasant to feed to three untamed creatures. The professors were essentially letting me off every bad mistake I came to make, and for what… because I helped save the school? Or because they knew I was traumatized?

I was beginning to feel like a victim, and not the girl who could cast without a wand.

"I'm going to bed early." I told Hagrid, just as the sky began to darken. He bid me farewell, and watched as I climbed the steps to the castle, not even bothering to have dinner in the Great Hall. In my dormitory, I had a few leftover boxes of chicken pastries, quickly heating one with a spell that cooked it well, tucking into it between a soapy shower and getting my bag ready for the weekend.

I was meant to be visiting mum and dad in London, after the ministry reversed my memory spell on them. It would take a few more sessions to regain their full memory of me, though they were getting better with every visit.

Dad remembered my birthday a few weeks ago, and mum had managed to cook my favorite dinner. Small steps, though big with this kind of magic.

I paced the length of my room, searching for my dress robes, when I remembered I had left my witch's hat and cape in the common room, by the fireplace.

Lord have mercy.

I glanced at the clock and saw it was just after seven o'clock, and that most of the students would be having dessert by now. The girl's dormitory was empty, and I would have a chance to sneak and grab it, after my shower.

Still, I wanted to be careful.

I exchanged that fluffy, white towel for my pleated skirt and white button up shirt, not bothering with tights or a bralette. Though I did take a minute to slip into my knickers.

I crept downstairs, snatched up the bundle of black fabric strewn over the armchair, and ran back up within the matter of sixty seconds.

Clearly, it wasn't enough time.

As I bolted the door, wanting to change before the girls had chance to return, I saw the window ajar– the light breeze rustling the papers on Ikera's writing desk. Her owl fluttered in its cage, and made the wet ends of my hair brush icily against my breasts. I ran over and went to clasp it shut, though as I did, I saw a figure lounging on one of the beds.

It was Draco.

"What the hell are you doing in here? These are forbidden quarters to a Slytherin, let alone a boy!" I yelled, reaching for that towel to cover my chest. I was suddenly aware of how hard my nipples were.

Draco had an arm tucked casually behind his head, dressed in a white shirt similar to mine, the buttons loosely fastened. His emerald tie amiss.

"I knew you would back out of our arrangement, and I wanted to come remind you of what we agreed on." He said, playing with a smirk the way he had played with me last Friday.

"You're right." I spat. "I wasn't going to meet you, after I'd seen it was nothing but a cruel joke to you. I couldn't be bothered with your games."

At this, he sat up, bridging toward the edge of Ashley Wellings bed. Her teddy bear looking skeptical beside his hand as it tightened into the mattress.

"This isn't a game to me, Hermione."

Again, the use of my name felt like a slap, and I'd almost prefer him to use the insult. Mudblood. At least I could expect it.

"Friday night. I'm your distraction. We keep to the plan as follows."

"I don't want you to be my anything if you're going to be sleeping around. I don't know what diseases you'll be collecting."

He almost grinned, almost– if it wasn't for the seriousness he read in my glare.

"I'm not shagging Isobel Wretching. I'm not shagging anyone."

My breathing stilled, and I didn't know whether to believe him. What good would he have in lying? I would find out eventually… women always found out. Though with the way he now stood from the bed, sauntering over, narrowing the space between us, I allowed myself to believe him. If not to keep him right here, standing in front of me, but because I did, truly – honestly, really – feel distracted for the first time.

"The door is locked." I managed to say, just a whisper.

It was my way of saying I agreed, I consented.

His eyes didn't leave mine, but he nodded very slowly.

"My hair is too wet… to go to the tower." I followed on, as his eyes dragged down my tendrils of wet curls, my chest as it was still disguised beneath that towel.

"And… although me and Ron have partaken in things in the past, I really don't—"

"Drop the towel." He said, cutting me off.

I swallowed loudly, unable to move my gaze from his very serious, blue one. My fingers unlocked from their hold, and the towel fell as a bundle of white to the floor, revealing my crinkled white skirt, and the alert pinch of my pink nipples, visible now as the damp from my hair made the material transparent. He reached down and unclasped the first few buttons, my breasts – that had gotten so much more fuller in the past year – falling out, making me gasp as a wind tousled through the open window.

He had climbed the wisteria on the outskirts of the building, all to come up and here and see me. He wasn't playing any games. Not when his pride was so obviously dropped.

The Malfoy name coincided with pride.

He circled back to Ashley Wellings bed, and sat himself back on its edge, crooking a finger and beckoning me forward. A bright and immediate blush rose to my cheeks as I sauntered forward, my breasts bouncing as I did.

He held up a hand and I stopped.

No better than a dog.

An owl.

"Are you wearing anything under that skirt?"

"Yes."

"Good."

In a sudden twist of movement, he clambered his hands around my back and pulled me into his lap, causing me to gasp. I resisted the urge to squeal– I was not that girl. Though I could only swallow the saliva as it pooled in my mouth, watching as he laid himself onto the mattress, staring at me and my perky, upright breasts, in my school uniform.

With two, great hands he planted them on my rear and pushed me with such force, I slid up his body and stopped with my wet, slick underwear rubbing along his face. I jerked forward as his nose rubbed into my clit, and grabbed the bannister of the bed, lifting myself from his face with apology.

Though no, this is what he wanted.

"Sit back down." He ordered, in a voice that was as wilful as magic.

I felt obliged, if not under a spell, to do as he commanded.

With a tear, I felt his hands pull the cotton of my panties free, throwing the shredded material to a discarded corner of the room. Then, he perched me willingly onto his mouth, and with the most pained cry I'd ever released, I shivered dramatically as he began licking my folds.

The pleasure shocked me so much, I lifted up again, though Draco wasn't having any of that. He forced me back down with his hands, now holding my waist and hips like a seatbelt, making my tits thrust upwards as I bucked and grinded, unable to stand it.

"Oh my god… oh my god… Oh, god… Oh my… Oh." I whispered feverishly, biting my fingers, then grabbing the bed, then grabbing at his white wisps of hair between my thighs, then back again to my mouth to chew. I felt it deep within my stomach as tension built, his tongue slithering from my pussy hole, up my clit, and back again. Wagging like a dog's tail, flicking that bundle of nerves that hadn't been teased by anything other than my small hand, or that vibrating wand.

Though this wasn't a wand… this wasn't skin… this was wet, slithering skill. This was an ice cream in the boiling heat, a puddle on dry pavement– a forbidden lust, making it only tastier. The noise he released made me wonder if he could breathe, as I'd gotten so slick so quickly, it must now be soaking his face, his nose, his jaw. Though I didn't care– selfishly, all I could see, feel, hear and breathe was the aching, unconventional desire to cum.

I needed it so much, I began sliding my cunt against his face, grinding against his nose as if it were a bump in the road– feeling the breeze as it came from the window and ruffled the end of my skirt, exposing my rear. As if he knew, he let go of my waist entirely, and planted his hands like two dinner plates against my ass, squeezing and slapping, knowing I wouldn't leave now even if I had the capability.

I'd never leave.

I never wanted this feeling to leave.

And then, suddenly, there was pain.

Pain that cut through the pain, but somehow, only intensified it. Brought it to a new level that brought tears to my eyes, causing me to open them and stare ahead, shocked.

His thumb had made its way into that sacred little hole between my ass cheeks, degrading what I thought I knew myself to be. I wasn't as pure and white as the others had made me out to be, I wouldn't be the wife to endure one sex position in bed for the rest of my life.

I was a creature who enjoyed every morsel of humiliation when it came from the hands of my enemy. I was a mudblood. I was whatever he wanted to be, so long as he didn't stop.

I found myself backing my rear into his hand, hissing as his thumb twisted, corrupting what was left of Little Miss Granger.

The downstairs door clicked to the common room, and I could hear the girls giggling from dinner. Talking, though not quite coming up yet.

Please, I would kill them if they so much as came near this door. I needed to finish. I needed to climax. I needed to release the tension building so quickly, so fast.

"I'm close." I whimpered, which didn't change his rhythm.

I didn't want him to. His tongue was moving so perfectly already. It didn't need to accelerate or so down.

One of his hands slipped from my pert buttocks, though not the one penetrating my hole, and it pushed the skirt down from his face, revealing his blue eyes. I couldn't look at him! No, I couldn't… I couldn't come to terms with the fact it was Draco Malfoy about to get me so far, and it was Draco Malfoy with his tongue buried deep into my cunt.

I threw my head back, feeling that hand now on my breast, pulling my nipple so hard I thought it might pinch off. He devoured me like a machine, with a bit of him– other than his cock– everywhere. And he watched with the lowest, predatory growl, as I overcame the hurdle and came.

I reached forward and grabbed Ashley's teddy bear, stuffing it into my mouth and biting down hard, knowing whatever scream left my mouth would alert everyone downstairs. My stomach clenched in as I shook and trembled, tightening my asshole around his thumb, releasing my juices in hot, sweaty relief.

I couldn't remember saying his name, though the long, whiny, drawn out word 'fuck' came as a mewl, softer than any kitten. Like a doll, I collapsed senselessly to his side, quivering only slightly.

I could see his cock was rock hard within his trousers, and his face was a shiny mess.

The scent of my arousal was everywhere.

I could hardly breathe.

"Unforgivable." He said, swallowing what I could only imagine was more of me.

"Hmm?" I barely mumbled, still panting.

"The word we're using whenever we need this. No questions asked."

"Unforgivable." I said, a little drunk on ecstasy.

"Good girl."