Chapter 21

Giddy Glee

Pollux Tower on the edge of Hogwarts Castle was drafty in the winter. The frigid cold of frost crawled upward over the stone walls. Fingers of ice reached in through cracks, clawing its way in. The sharp gusts of winter outside burst through. It burned with every breath.

The heat of Draco Malfoy's chest perfumed the air with his cologne. Hermione felt the vapors off his body as the warmth battled the chill in the air. Her hand rested against his chest. In her desperate want for their kiss to continue, her knuckles buckled through the dark fabric.

Her cheeks flushed as she noticed and released.

He dipped his face low, not allowing their eyes to stop their connection. The give in his expression of that of need. His patience worn from their separation. A holiday was long without the muse of another. Their connection was that of need and urge, spoiled in their momentary denial and release of the game they played. The reunion of a quick snog only fed their wild desires rather than satisfied. Even then, in the isolated tower of Hogwarts where they'd neither be disturbed or found, Hermione's body readied for what might come.

The charged pause of their conversation only fed the revelation of their worst fears and wildest dreams: there would not be a rejection through her lips. The implication, a growing taste against her tongue. It gained strength. The taste poured down the back of her throat into the wildfire of her torso where her aching beast of lust dwelled. Assumption brought consciousness to the animal. Like the call to a fight, hormones flooded her blood stream.

Tingles ignited her chest, spread down her length like a fire, until only one source was alive with the consciousness of lack of touch. A ring of ache formed upon her breasts. Her nipples hardened. The center of her core burned with the rutting raw edge of desire at one look through his clouded, fairy-like eyes.

He made her weak. He pushed her limits to distant desires she was not strong enough to deny. Their seductive darkness muttered to the demons within her own flesh. They begged for entanglement against his own, demanded it even.

Her lips hadn't the strength to plead. Only look.

Her eyes flashed down to the line of his lips with hunger. Back to him. The want pooled through her doe eyes with the promise of ecstasy.

Draco moved. His hands slid beneath the shoulders of her robes and dropped it to the floor as his eyes remained in her sight.

The weight removed from her body, a layer of freedom given, her chest moved in exaggerated breaths. The beating against her breastbone fueled the rising excitement.

Hermione stood in full view as he perused the length of her body at his leisure, sure to notice every curve and savor each feature without fear of repercussion. The blistering heat of his gaze traveled up the inner stretch of her thigh, then jumped to the heave of her breasts through the thin knit top. Heat, like a blush, spread across her chest.

A sheer darkness clouded his eyes. Something within awakened. The only goal was to satisfy that of the most primal urges a body needed. His throat tensed with a single swallow.

"Turn around," he instructed in a tone of another dimension. He was possessed. The respectable gentleman Malfoy heir was forgotten at the door. In there, he was nothing but a wizard with a witch.

The groan split through his lips as her arse came to view shot a delighted burst of tingles through her folds. Her knickers went warm.

The separation of their touch abruptly became too much. Draco pressed into her back. One hand laced delicately around her throat as the other cinched her waist until not a millimeter of space was between. As her breath moved through her mouth, a delighted sigh in wicked relief, the animal in Draco's skin breathed in her heat like a rutting beast. His arm fell from her waist to her stomach. Fingers walked against the soft leggings until the faint edge of her knickers alerted him to the closeness of his search. He knew what he sought. And he knew what it did to her.

Draco's lips pressed into the tenderness of her throat. His words were soft murmurs to the blaring sound of her lust. "Something about you, pet, has all my senses gone. I find myself fantasizing about this exact moment every waking minute. A maddening repetition."

She gasped out when the tip of his finger pressed against her clit. It was the start of an intensity she'd never felt. Only dreamed. The strong hold against his body as he used it for his will was more thrilling than it had been on the clock tower.

He knew how to be so severe in his torture. The pressure was lessened. The rotation barely felt through her knickers and pants.

"Imagine my shock when in the middle of the library, when I wanted to make you mine right there in the aisle." The grip on her throat tightened ever so slight. She gasped. Hips thrusted forward right into his palm. The very pussy he wanted to own. He wanted it. It plagued his very thoughts. "Next time. You'll think twice, yes?"

A shot of his breath pushed through her ear. His hoarse whispering no matter how threatening encouraged her lust rather than dimmed. The way he touched her without question, without thought, he took what he wanted from her and in the moment where her resistance and pride mounted, a wave of pleasure swept them away.

Her mind reeled as he pressed into the side of her face in dense breath. Draco sought control. The groping had stopped, but his taut embrace of her body remained. The thought to stop was forefront. He wanted her to resist so that he might stop himself before he passed the edge of themselves.

Hermione's courage mounted. "If this is your punishment, I might wear them every day."

The raw sexual tension in her tone added to the haze of primal desire. A need to be fulfilled as all living things felt. A release of control at the hands of another. The center of an obsession that surrounded his mind in an unending fog.

He pulled her to face him. She was lost in the pull of the depths of her body. Her beast was strong. It howled for release. One hot touch to ignite the fire that would consume her. A licking flame over her flesh. The hard friction of her body as it was used for what it was made.

Draco gripped her chin. It raised.

Instead of the wild licking flame of lust, there lived two hard moons of icy despair.

"If you wear them again, it shall not be this pleasant. Of that, I promise."

With that, he let her go. Unfulfilled and in need. She struggled for lucid thought as he was set to go on his way. Descended a few steps, Draco turned. Her body screamed, begged, crawled with hunger to be pleased.

"Come, pet. Let's get you in something appropriate," he said coolly.

Hermione grabbed the robes from the floor. Their dust remained embedded in the dark fibers as it slid over her. The protection of her body amongst the loose flowy robes that hid all elements of her body.

It was a silent hike back to the castle. Her body blistered under the guise of indifference when truly all she wanted was to shag. It fueled a fire, once of desire, now of anger. Once they breached the castle walls where life surged around them, warmth in the very air, it was quieter still.

Draco led her directly to the Fat Lady portrait on the wall. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"How do you know where the entrance is?" She questioned. "Only Gryffindors are supposed to know."

He gave a sharp look. "A bit of thought riddles most secrets. Remember that. There are not many things I cannot learn."

The DA flashed through her mind. Draco had proven a direct interest in the group. Would she be the one to compromise the group because of his obsession?

Hermione stepped through the portrait with a renewed sense of caution. Her bitterness not entirely separated from the teasing he gave to her in the tower. He was a wizard of depth. The bottom of his vengeance was still to be discovered. The hatred of her friends led him to shocking lows. It was not unfounded to believe that rage inside him might force his hand to ensure they are all punished.

Drogon watched her change clothes with a distinct disapproval. She knew that look.

"Stop it," she muttered. "It's easier to let him have his way than fight. You know what happened last time."

What she would have rather preferred was that fight. She wanted to hex his legs until they jittered and shook him to the ground. The smirk wiped off his face as a bat dragged out of his nostril. Anything to level the burn of rejection.

She slipped her uniform trousers over her hips and buttoned them closed. "Don't wait up."

Drogon accepted his last scratching before she bolted out the door.

Hermione was with Draco all day. They were mostly quiet. Things felt different since the Tower. Draco was tense and silent. It was as if he was lost in thought, but angry at what he thought of. More than once he exhaled out of his nose with the air of irritation. She tread lightly. Those times were not the times to press the length of his mood as much as she yearned to prod into those vulnerable areas.

It was not the time. There was more at stake in the depths they were within. She was forced to remain the quiet, obedient pet. For now.

Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower later that evening only moments before Ron. He wore a soft grey jumper. The sparkle in his blue eyes the focal point of his presence. She felt herself staring into them with a bit of awe. Ronald was a handsome wizard. It might not be obvious, but he was.

The warm smell of Gryffindor Tower welcomed them home as it always did. In one wild burst of serenity. Hot cinnamon swirled in the air. The crackling fire held a happy reception for every student within its reach. A mighty hearth in a cold school was a blessed thing. It gave some semblance of love for the Tower the Gryffindors called their own.

She smiled as her best friend entered the room with her by his side.

"Ronald," Hermione said softly. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah." He shrugged.

Her hand gestured toward the fluffy couch. He obliged with a seat in the middle. She took the seat next to him, but a proper length away. The last thing she wanted was more reason for Draco to believe there was something romantic between Ron and her.

In fact, she needed his attention off of them entirely. The DA was at risk. Draco's rage would only fuel him further to find them all out so that he might punish Ron for whatever reason his mind deemed it right.

Hermione was adorned in the light of trust within her best friend's eye. He was comfortable, unbothered by her request. His back leaned against the support of the overstuffed cushions. Arms stretched across the back. One arm almost seemed to surround her in her seat.

She held her breath. "You know, I think, there is a witch who has feelings for you."

That made his attention heighten. He leaned forward.

"You do?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I overheard it in the dormitory a while ago, and judging by the way she watches you; I think it is genuine."

"A Gryffindor, eh?" He rubbed his chin. "What's her name?"

There was a moment where she thought to lie. It was a disturbing thing to reveal to a friend that she respected so much. Her lips pursed tight. But as she watched Ron look upon her with such mutual favor, it was wrong to hide the information she knew would make him happy just to save herself the hassle of socializing with the witch.

"Lavender. Lavender Brown."

His forehead wrinkled as he absorbed the news with a rather serene expression than the dramatic flair that was so loved by Lavender Brown. "Really? I had no idea. Hardly noticed the witch before."

This was where it hurt to tell him what a nice girl she was when Hermione could not stand the witch in more than ten-minute doses. It was nothing to do with her appearance but rather the personality of a witch that was rather whimsical than rational. Ron was not so far vested in logic as Hermione was, so there was a chance it would not seem off-putting to him.

"She's rather pretty, don't you think?" She asked with as much force as she could muster. "And she's Gryffindor, so that's convenient. She loves animals, just like you."

Ron nodded along. "I do like animals."

"Since Harry is out with Cho, and I'll be out with Daphne, perhaps you might ask Lavender to Hogsmeade for Valentine's Day. Might be a nice time to break the ice."

He startled. "On Valentines Day? Won't that give her…the wrong impression?"

The way he looked so shaken made her want to pinch his cheek for being so cute.

He had no idea what he was in for with that witch.

"Just tell her you'd like to get to know her better and if she is free, you'd like to spend some time window shopping in Hogsmeade," she elaborated. "That sounds simple enough, right?"

He agreed it was straightforward.

"But what about money? I don't have much. Not for me and her."

"I'll give you a bit for some hot cocoa or something."

"You don't have to do that, Mione."

She smiled. Her hand touched his against his knee. "I know, but I want to. Who knows? You might have a really nice time together."

Ronald agreed to ask her. It was a huge relief that he was open to a date. Once Draco figured it out, it would calm his suspicions. Perhaps he might loosen his obnoxious hold on her like any moment she might be whisked away by another wizard's wand.

Hermione and Ron waited in the common room for Harry. He had lessons with Snape once again. He arrived just before Hermione and Ron were due to start patrol, but he was wildly erratic. It raised their suspicions.

"Did something happen?" She asked.

He was coated in a layer of sweat. His chest kept breathing as if he was exhausted. Harry's green eyes went mad in the confines of their sockets.

"No." His voice was forceful. "Well, maybe. Yeah. I think. I think I saw into his mind again. Voldemort's. I saw the Department of Mysteries…" His voice trailed off. Ron and Hermione surrounded him with concern. Both of them knew how precarious it was to have an unspoken connection between their minds. Hermione chewed her bottom lip until Ron touched her wrist with a look of comfort. "You know how they said he wanted a weapon. A weapon he didn't have last time. I think, I think it's there. In the Ministry. He knows something is there."

She could read Ron's face like a book. He remained unconvinced that was what had Harry in a stir.

Harry then turned away. "I, uh, I'm tired."

It was not like him. Well, as much as himself as he could be.

"Nothing else happened?" Hermione asked. "You're sure you're alright?"

He paused. A solemn frown pulled his face downward.

"Snape brought me back. He jumped through my memories to that night," he said quietly. "Made me watch him die. Again."

Cedric. The graveyard. Voldemort.

It was an intense moment in Harry's life. One that still tortured him at night. What an unfair place to start their training.

She swallowed back her emotion. "You're not supposed to let him in, Harry. You're supposed to fight."

"Yeah, mate. You can't just give in. He's going to try to hurt you any way he can just like Voldemort would," Ron added. "You can't give up."

Their best friend fell quiet. His face dark with shadow and despair.

Dumbledore's Army had turned Harry's life around. His spirits were higher than the start of last year. It was all thanks to the welcome distraction and renewed purpose of one's hands that gave all their members courage to join. They all needed something to fight away the demon's of Cedric's death.

Professor Snape offered Occlumency because of the weakness in Harry's mind. There was a vulnerability that put them all at risk.

He had to hold strong against the forces of evil. He was the one who mattered.

"I won't." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I won't."

Harry ascended the staircase toward the boy's dormitory. Each step a quieter fall of sound. It concluded with the closure of a wooden door.

Patrol was due to start any minute.

"Come on, then. We best head on." She sighed.

Term just started and it was already too long for her liking. It wasn't about learning or exams any longer, but protection and the looming threat of evil in every action there was. Life was no longer simple. The muddled colors of grey bled through the lines of right and wrong until there was no clear separation of the two.

Hermione herself was lost to the sea of grey.

"Actually," Ronald said as he slid his hands into his pockets, "I'm going to stay behind."

"But Ron. It's our duty."

He nodded. "I know that. I do. But, Harry needs me. He isn't right tonight. And we can't leave him alone to stew in it."

It was expected of a house Prefect to tend to their duties. There was nothing to enforce it, but it was demanded by their honor to function accordingly. Hermione carried that weight around with her everywhere. She dismissed points from her own house for rule breaking. That was difficult work. But it was done without question.

Hermione saw the commitment as not an option. It was something they had to.

"McGonagall trusts us to do this," Hermione said.

"I'll make it up to you. I swear to it."

He already started to pull away from her. His eyes traveled up the stair after Harry.

As much as she hated to, she swallowed back her pride and allowed him to leave her alone in the dark of night to patrol a deadly castle. That meant that she had to run and grab mittens and a hat to explore the darker, colder parts of the castle. Drogon sat atop her bedspread. His tail flickered in a wave as she approached.

She regarded the cat as she layered more warmth atop her body. "Fancy a stroll?"

There were a few giggles from across the room. The girls were painting their toenails with a spread of magazines on the floor. Many boasted beautiful models in all sorts of cutting edge witch fashions that were rarely saw in London. France dressed more modern. Japan was right behind them, too. Uganda started to show expansion of fashion into the modern era.

English magical peoples were traditional. Even those who were seem as non-traditional were rigid with magical tradition. Robes and cloaks and pointed hats. It was a common occurrence for all families to be seen in such clothing.

It was the reason Hermione preferred muggle clothing to witch. The witch in London was thought of as a cosplayer or some weird woman who cut her own hair and raced naked through a forest at night. Muggle fashions had a wide range of what the statement might be. It was easy to blend with calmer, muggle tones. She was a witch no matter what attire she wore. Flowy robes did nothing to amplify her magic.

Lavender fussed over a magazine from Uganda. The model was bold. Her head was shaved bald. A gold chain laid overtop the naked skull with the regal balance of a crown. The deep rich ebony of her skin glowed beneath the white linen shift dress as it laid fitted against her body.

It was beautiful.

"Godric. Don't you think we'd look so much better like this?" She flashed the cover to Romilda. "That head chain would look stunning on you, Mil."

"Our mums would kill us before we could dress like that," Romilda said. "If I said I want to wear trousers outside school, she is bothered. Witches wear robes. That's just the way it is."

Hermione was not acknowledged as she collected her cat from her bed. None of her dorm mates were interested in what she might have to say on the matter.

Drogon bounded down the dormitory stairs. She followed.

They hopped through the portrait hole together. Drogon had an impressive leap for his size. The cat never required her assistance. With his attitude, she knew not to offer it either.

The night was heavy. It hurt her eyes to peer through the dense darkness. The light of her wand was little compared to the immense black beyond that stretched for miles beneath the roof of the castle.

It was her cat that moved through with no qualms about what rested on the other side. He ran ahead, having to stop and wait for her to catch up before he could resume on his journey.

Her breath was a puff of smoke in front of her eyes. An ethereal Patronus.

"How are you not frozen?" She muttered down at the bounding cat. "Even my tongue is cold."

He meowed up at her.

"You're smaller than me. You should be shivering just the same."

Patrol in the castle was a boring job. Often it was thankless. Very few were caught out of bed after hours. Especially since Draco Malfoy became Prefect and could not be punished by any other Prefect.

It was nice to have a partner. She liked having Ron to talk to, or at least give company throughout the late hours. Time passed quicker that way.

"How long has it been Drogon? Two hours, you think?"

She checked her wand. Nope. Twenty minutes.

"We're going to be here a while." She groaned.

They carried on in silence. The castle creaked and groaned with ghosts and age. Wind shrieked throughout the corridors. The winding echoes of Peeves shenanigans were a haunting threat with awful cackling.

Their sounds were as soft as a cat's paw as they moved through the corridors. It was an empty sheet of black. No one stirred their patrol. Not even the ghosts of the castle, who were often active within the rise of the moon.

Drogon and Hermione were on their way for the last of their patrol down to the last floor. It was late. Her eyes were heavy as she blinked back her exhaustion.

Through the black, they heard a soft sound. It came up from the Grand Staircase. Hermione peaked her head over the railing. Drogon, too, stuck his head through the slats to peer through darkness.

His ears shifted backward. The white of body wiggled away and down the stair. She had to run to keep up with him. His tail was all she could see as she moved. It bounced along the trail toward the sound.

She knew he was tracking the source, whatever it was. Her trainers tapped the wood steps with as much grace as she could muster in a rush. There was no point in alerting them to her presence.

Her nose knew the moment they came close to the courtyard. The sharp sting of fresh air filled her body with prickling. Wind burst against her exposed nose and cheeks. The fibers of her clothes spread, as if in welcome, as the cool wrapped around her body in the cold embrace of the afterlife. Quickly, she wrapped the scarf around her face as much as she could.

Drogon hissed in the distance. A sign that there was someone out there. She chased after the sound.

He paced back and forth, hissing all the while and yowling when the person dared move.

Hermione approached without worry. "It's past curfew. All students should be in bed, you know. I'll have to deduct house points for this."

The figure turned around. It revealed a soft, frightened face. Blonde length rested as her shoulders, a pair of sparkling, wide eyes of sky blue shined in ghostly glow in the blue light of a Lumos spell.

Hermione lowered the wand from her face. "Astoria? What are you doing out here?"

The witch looked down at her feet. "I'm sorry. I could not sleep. I just needed a bit of fresh air. Please. I didn't mean any trouble."

She was so soft spoken than Hermione had to lean in to hear her. Drogon's hiss was louder than it.

"Hush, you." She muttered at the cat. She forced a smile. "Sorry. He's not very charming. I don't know why I put up with him."

Astoria seemed to ease the slightest bit. Her eyes at least raised to level.

"He is very pretty."

"Thank you," she said back. "Would you mind continuing this inside? It's frigid and I can't feel my fingers."

The witch nodded. She followed alongside without a sound. Her steps were soft, inaudible. The small puffs of her breath dissipated just as swift as they appeared. Everything about her was minimal.

It was eerie to be in such a witch's presence with little impact. Gryffindor was not a place for those who were timid, unseen. That was a trait that was meant for the serpents of Slytherin with whom valued silence and all-seeing eyes.

Astoria gave a soft smile when she caught Hermione's gaze. She blinked away, turning her attention to her own path through the corridors where there was an absence of gusts of the winter air.

Breath finally came in lung-filled deepness as the tepid heart of the castle air flowed easily.

Finally, she was warm enough that she didn't tremble with a shiver every minute. She sighed as she pulled the scarf and mitten from their seat. "I've not caught you before. Do you sneak out of bed often?"

The witch's eyes went wide. "No. No. I stay in the dormitory. I've never."

Hermione believed that to be truthful.

"What were you doing out there? You know its easy to freeze in those temperatures. No one could have helped if you'd gotten hurt. There are reasons why you aren't permitted out of bed, after hours. It isn't safe being one of them."

"Forgive me. I did not mean to cause trouble. I just…" Astoria rubbed beneath her eyes. "I just needed a moment to myself."

A quiet came up between them. It was not often that a young Slytherin needed assistance. Hermione, herself, experienced a first in her years.

"Are you okay?" Hermione inquired.

It was not common for a witch to suddenly become a rule-breaker without prompt. Astoria was much too timid of a witch. Something else was afoot in her life.

Astoria's bottom lip trembled, however, she nodded.

"I know the stress of third year can be overwhelming."

"It is," Astoria replied with a squeak. "It can be filled with strife."

It was Draco and Pansy's duty to service their younger house mates. Neither were doing their jobs as Prefects if there were third years sneaking out for a break in the middle of the night.

Hermione touched the witch's shoulder, forgetting that it was not necessarily smart to do such a thing to pureblood Slytherin, and attempted to comfort the best way she knew how. "Is it class? Are you struggling with your coursework? Because there is tutoring."

"No. It is not my assignments."

Shocking.

"Are there tensions in Slytherin house?"

The poor witch nodded her head. "Much."

Damn it, Draco. If he wasn't so focused upon who Hermione spent her time with, he might have focused upon the students that needed help within his house. What was Professor Snape thinking making Draco and Pansy Prefects?

Hermione rubbed the witch's back. "Do you want to talk about it?"

It was not her place to pry into the inner depths of the Slytherin den. She already knew too much the way it was. Still, if Astoria was struggling, she needed to help in any way she could.

"Wouldn't it be, awkward? For you."

"Course not. I've learned to be not weird about all that. Thanks to Draco."

Astoria was suddenly overcome with shivers. Hermione frowned. The poor girl was not covered in much protection from the cold at all. She had to be freezing. Hermione offered her mittens and her scarf.

Orange was not Astoria's hue. It pulled away from the angelic image of her perfect posture, glide of a walk, and soft rosy glow of a blush through her creamy skin.

The witch sniffed. "I feel rather awful and guilty. Like I've done something wrong. It is not fair. I have had no choice in the matter. Pansy gives me death glares all day long. It makes me want to cry. Daphne says just to do as I'm told." She shook her head. "I don't want to."

Hermione swallowed. "Pansy can get under the skin. She gets under mine all the time."

"How can someone be so jealous? Just because we're Draco's girls doesn't mean - ."

"Pardon?" It just erupted out of Hermione's mouth. "What did you say?"

Astoria stared blankly. As if she did not understand.

"You said 'we're Draco's girls'. What do you mean?"

The blue eyes doubled in size. "You mean." Her lips parted in a soft gasp. "You don't know?"

The air changed around them. Hermione felt a shift in the demeanor of Astoria. She slipped out of Hermione's touch.

It was quizzical. Or rather, it felt tense but not.

"Do you mean to say you like Draco?" Hermione asked. "I'm not angry, of course. I understand it."

Astoria sniffed once more. "He didn't tell you?"

She shrugged. "Tell me what?"

"He's…asked me to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day evening. It is the start of our courtship."

Being struck by the Knight Bus would have been more likely than the words that came out of Astoria's mouth. Hermione was stunned into silence. A million thoughts rushed to her mind at once. Firstly, she felt the urge to curse Astoria. The protective need to stake her claim at the wizard clouded everything else. It was the only thing that made sense.

It was Astoria's words that rang through in clarity. Her guilt. She did not want to court Draco.

Daphne told her to do it though. Daphne, Hermione's friend, who invited her out on Valentines Day. To distract her from finding Astoria and Draco together?

Merlin. They were both going to pay!

Mostly Draco, for being a two-faced sneak. And lying to her.

He had the bullocks of a dragon to accuse her of being a slag for wearing leggings when he was the one courting another witch while sneaking off to grope her!

The shock was not to be hidden. Hermione felt it drain from her features onto the floor. It kept coming. An unending wave of complete disbelief and anger.

Astoria dirtied her face with an ugly frown. "I'm so sorry."

That stabbed at the prideful heart of the Gryffindor.

Hermione waved her away. "Back to your dormitory. Please. Curfew is a serious rule. Stay in your House until morning. Next time, I'll be forced to levy a punishment."

That was the last she remembered of the night. The next time her mind gained consciousness of itself, the morning sun rose in the sky and it was time to ready for a day of class. Her eyes burned from crying through rage. She used a charm that Ginny taught her. It freshened up the dark bags beneath her eyes, the bright red rim, the sickly appearance of her unwashed face.

She donned the uniform skirt. It was a modest length at her knee, as it was supposed to be. Perhaps, she might wear it a bit higher. A bit of her thigh showed to the light of day. It was pale. The purple lace of her veins a constant throughout the virgin flesh of her legs.

A jumper was tossed back into her trunk as she snatched out the foil packet of pills she hardly needed now. She placed two bras over top one another. It gave a false swell. Let the bastard realize just what he was going to have to deal with.

Draco Malfoy was an arrogant son of a witch if he thought she wouldn't find out about his secret girlfriend. What hurt more was that he acted normal. He remained the same as she remembered. The breakout from Azkaban didn't move him as strongly as her presence did. He walked closer in the halls. His hand always possessively outstretched when others tread too close for his comfort.

It set her teeth on edge how many times his eyes flashed their happy swirl at her. The toying of her desire as those watchful grey eyes noticed the dimension within her blouse and the rising of her skirt sent her ripples of fury.

If he was so pleased with her, then why was he starting a courtship without another witch?

She snapped her quill in two. They worked in the library on a Charms assignment. His eyes rose from his parchment. The broken tip rested in the center of their table fixed between him and her.

"That is the second quill you've broken today," Draco pointed out. "Either you don't know your own strength or something has you bothered. Out with it, pet. Tell me what's on your mind."

Oh, you slimy, piece of dung.

Should she explode in the middle of the library with a room full of witnesses? A swift curse might appease her fury.

Had the tides been reversed, if she were the one with a secret boyfriend, what would he do? When he thought that Ron was her boyfriend, he managed to get the twins and Harry kicked off the Quidditch team like a slippery snake. A staged fight in front of a crowd of spectators. It was one of his best acts yet.

Perhaps it was the edge of becoming mental that convinced Hermione to be wicked in her revenge, or even want it, but she opted for a plot. A plot to placate her awful, dark desires in lieu of the actual desires she thought he might satisfy himself.

"I'm just anxious about Valentines Day," she lied with a giddy glee. For once, the lie felt good. Delirious even. "Never been out on Valentine's Day before."

"You're not on a date." He snarled. His upper lip curled. "It's a girl's day. Not a romantic outing."

Oh! That was just classic. Be angry at the thought of her on a date whilst he has one planned with another witch. Would he find hidden places in the castle to grope her behind Hermione's back? Would he touch her body as he learned to with hers? Would there be hidden snogs out of sight?

Hermione swallowed back the burning fury. It hurt. Yet, she managed to find whatever it was inside herself that yearned for revenge and used it as a shield back to the blissful ignorance of her blinded love for him.

"But what about you? What will you do on the day of romance?"

She fluttered her eyelashes for good measure. Innocence. It had to be innocent, subtle, naïve. He could not know she knew.

That was a challenge seeing as all she wanted was to hex his balls off.

Draco took a moment too long to answer her. The fabrication of a falsehood, she knew it well. It took a while to learn his tells, but she knew that he was swift with truths like a whip, but his lies were smoother, thought out.

The beating in her heart sped with anger. It took every ounce of restraint to hold her tongue behind her teeth.

"I'll finally have the chance to go for a fly without zipping back here right away," he said.

"You won't go to Hogsmeade? I thought we might meet up later in the day, walk back to Hogwarts together."

"Well you'll just have to wait to see me until the next day."

That was not like him. Even he had to hear it.

Hermione clicked her tongue. "Really? What if I meet a wizard in Hogsmeade who fancies a cuppa? Who's going to repel his advances?"

Oh. It turned worthwhile when he met her gaze. The tension was so delightfully delicious. She wanted to suck his face to consume all the joy she felt from his indecision.

Is that what he felt like always? It was intoxicating.

"I'd hope that you would, pet," he hissed. "Just remember who owns you."

How could she forget?

She was his pet.

His only pet.

A/N: first off, thank you for all the support on this story! It's been a wild ride trying to assume the head space to write something like this. Stockholm was a small idea when it started that I've crafted into something so much more; It is going to be a series called 'The Years'. This being the first story in the collection. Secondly and most importantly, your comments and kudos and likes and reviews give me such purpose in my writing. I'm very interested in hearing your thoughts on my works. It helps me become better than I was. I hope that reflects. I very much love being in this community. Although J.K. Rowling has done her damnedest to make Harry Potter to stand for something it surely did not, I hope that all my readers know that I stand with trans lives and rights. I believe that even Harry Potter shows that acceptance of those different from us is monumental for the world. If ever this becomes a political statement to be associated with the franchise because of her statements, it will be considered to abandon the stories in lieu of other more accepting and beautiful stories. Again, thank you for all the support and love. I am truly blessed. Somehow when I stumbled into reading a Dramione fanfiction, I had no idea just how it would change my life for the better. It's been considered that I write another Hermione pairing story with someone other than Draco (*gasp* I know) Who would you also like to see better represented in the fanfiction community? Let me know your thoughts.