Contrast

A/N~ Finally! A new chapter! Sorry of the wait, but this I was having major issues with this one. Draco was not cooperating and it took me a while to whip him into shape. Mmm………*drools*…….what? Oh, sorry, got lost in a daydream for a second there.

Major thanks to those of you who reviewed. I have specific “Thank You”s at the end of the chapter. Just know that even though I may not point you out, each and every one of you have my constant gratitude.

MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT! It has been brought to my attention that I need a beta. So, if you would like to volunteer, I just have a couple of requests. I would like it if you were familiar with the story and I would need you to get back to me in a timely manner. That’s all. Let me know by way of reviews, and don't forget to leave me an e-mail address. Or you can e-mail me. My address is with my profile.

Oh, and my dear and lovely MistressMalfoy, you are my muse. Without you, this chapter would have never made it and I would be in a mental institution. Thanks times infinity!

Now read the chapter already….jeez!

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Insomnia was a bitch. Draco couldn’t sleep, though it was nothing new he had experienced since becoming an undercover Death Eater. It was rare during the past 8 months that he would get a full night’s rest, but ever since arriving at Grimmauld Place a week ago, it had gotten worse. He found himself awake for most of the night, usually remaining in the confines of his far too small and second-class bedroom until it became too stifling and claustrophobic. He would then either go into the library and read or go up to the next floor and work out. He would return to his room and hour or two later, hoping that either the mental or physical excretion had worn him out enough to cause him to be too tired to stay awake. But it wasn’t until the first light of morning would dimly shine behind his closed curtains that he would finally be able to fall asleep. Usually he wouldn’t wake up until mid-afternoon, causing him to be accused of being a lazy prat by Weasley and Potter. Draco didn’t mind too much, he had always been somewhat of a night owl, but it was when he would wake up to a less than stellar reflection that he became irritated. Luckily, sleeping until whenever the fuck he wanted to hadn’t interfered with his extremely good looks often.

Draco first contended with sleeplessness the day he arrived home from Hogwarts. He walked into Malfoy Manor and was greeted by his mother lightly kissing him on his cheek and giving him one of her infrequent, yet extraordinary, smiles. Only seconds later, she ordered the waiting house elves in the foyer to take care of Draco’s trunk, returning to the imperturbable and cool mistress of the house without delay, and told Draco that there was an owl for him in the study that was adjoined to his massively grand room full of all sorts of expensive and highly envied paraphernalia. He instantly knew what it was in regards to for he had taken it upon himself, and at Potter’s insistence, to make the necessary arrangements to let it be known that he was ready and willing to join the ranks of the Dark Lord in the form of a well written letter full of his best bullshit to his bonkers Aunt Bellatrix. So when he read the summons to appear before the Dark Lord and declare his loyalty to the barking mad nutter, Draco was not surprised.

He spoke with his mother during dinner while they ate the formal and ornately lavish dining table and told her that he had decided to take over his father’s place as a follower of the Dark Lord. He didn’t fancy lying to her, but there was no way he could tell her the truth without endangering her or himself. While she wasn’t quite a Death Eater, she wasn’t exactly open-minded either. She nodded elegantly and sipped her tea before saying that she understood that he felt it was his responsibility to do so, and that she hoped that he would be careful, for his sake more than anyone else’s. She said she had no desire to see the only two people she loved rotting away in Azkaban.

Draco nearly chocked on his mulled wine when the word “love” escaped her pale pink lips. The expression had never been uttered in the Malfoy household, well not that Draco knew of. He was aware that his parents cared deeply for one another, but what they said to each other privately was none of Draco’s concern, and while he was certain that he loved his mother, he told her in so many sappy and uncharacteristically emotional words. Frankly, the whole notion was quite disturbing. So, feeling extremely uncomfortable, he stood up from his chair, placed a kiss on his mother’s cheek, and said goodnight.

It was that very same night that he apparated to where he was directed to go by the letter; a large mansion the exuded both nefariousness and foreboding in the middle of nowhere. One would have to be as fuckwitted as Weasley to not feel the dark power that cloaked the place. Draco was met by his aunt at the doors and led into a cavernous room, where masked and hooded Death Eaters lined the walls and his “master” was sitting on an elaborate and disgustingly gaudy throne. There he knelt before the Dark Lord while being looked upon by his faithful followers and professed his undying devotion despite the pain in his knee from the cold stone floor and the near undeniable urge to jump to his feet, deck the fucking twat in his no-nosed face, and claim he would never submit to anyone, no matter how insane and powerful they were. Alas, Draco kept his body still, bit his tongue and focused on how much he hated Potter for talking him into going through with this.

He reminded himself to keep his mind blank, for it was well known that the Dark Lord was incredibly skilled at Legilmens. Draco was grateful that both Snape and his father had trained him from an early age in being proficient in Occulmens to avoid any invasion of his mind, because at that exact moment he felt the Dark Lord poking and prodding his inner most thoughts, mind-fucking him to the nth degree. Draco made himself think of how much he despised Potter (which happened to be true at the moment) as well as all Mudbloods, blood traitors, and Muggles. He thought of the responsibility he once felt to his father, seeking his approval. But most of all, he thought about how brilliant it would be to live in a world ruled by the Dark Lord. What that bloody thick bampot didn’t know was all of it was complete and utter bolloks.

After a moment of the wanker making himself at home in Draco’s subconscious, Draco felt him withdrawal from his head and was told to rise. The Dark Lord told him it was time to test his dedication to the cause (these damn wizards and their fucking causes) while grinning madly. Draco feigned indifference as he saw a bloke, who couldn’t have been a year or two older than Draco, walk up to him unstably. It was obvious that he was under the Imperius Curse evident by his glassy and glazed over eyes and his mouth hanging slightly open. He reminded Draco of a much smarter and more alert Weasley.

“Are you my servant Draco?” the Dark Lord asked in a voice low and sinister.

“Yes Master.” Draco answered dutifully.

“Will you prove it?” he hissed.

“Yes Master.” Draco repeated. He didn’t know what peeved him more, having to refer to the egomaniacal serpent as his master or having to actually obey his orders. He was definitely going to have to kick a few house elves later to compensate and regain his sense of superiority.

“I want you to torture and kill this worthless Muggle. I trust that you know what I am alluding to.”

Draco glimpsed at the unmoving Muggle in front of him, still under the curse, before bowing his head at his supposed leader.

“You have power, my faithful servant; I can sense it, thriving off of your skin in waves.” The Dark Lord hissed, his unnaturally red eyes shining with anticipation. “These repulsive Muggles spawn filth and have no place in our world, my world. Curse him, drive him mad with suffering, and make him understand that he is not fit to breathe the same air as you, as me. Damage his soul my boy, make him yearn for death.”

“As you wish My Lord.” He stated calmly.

Draco watched as the Dark Lord waved his hand dismissively, releasing the Muggle from the Imperius. Instantly his blue eyes widened in shock and fear as he took in his surroundings. Draco smirked at him coldly, pretending to take delight in the Muggle’s newfound horror. He knew he would have to do this sooner or later, perform an Unforgivable Curse. Though he had never actually executed one, he was taught by his father and aunt that he had to be in a certain frame of mind to implement them both accurately and effectively.

So while the filthy Muggle was on his knees, pleading for his life at Draco’s feet, Draco tuned him out and remembered all he was told about Muggles; how they were wretched, dirty, and a waste of space. Draco recalled it all and gathered it until it turned into rage and hate surging through out his body. He told himself repeatedly that he wanted and needed to cause the Muggle excruciating pain. Slowly he withdrew his wand and stared down at the pathetic bloke, who was now sobbing uncontrollably, and maliciously smiled.

“Crucio.” Draco said in a steady voice coated with disdain, echoing for all to hear.

The Muggle immediately fell to the floor, clutching his stomach and moaning loudly in agony. Draco had never heard anything so horrendous in his life, and he was completely aware that he was causing it. He was also aware of the dark power flowing in his veins and he could then understand why the Dark Arts had drawn so many witches and wizards in. It was almost intoxicating, but not enough to pull Draco in. He was stronger than that; he wasn’t like those other corrupt weaklings.

“More Draco,” He demanded greedily. “He doesn’t feel your hate, your contempt enough. Though he is pain, he doubts you.”

Draco knew the Dark Lord was a fanatic for torture, a sadist even, and if he was going to be accepted into his band of miscreants, he needed to embrace the darkness lurking inside him. He took a deep breath and concentrated, conjuring up one of the many hideous dark spells his father had taught him. Softly proclaiming the words that he had only said in the confines of his father’s study, Draco watched as his wand emitted a bust of silver light and engulfed the convulsing body of the Muggle. His screams did nothing to drown out the deafening cracking of every bone in his mangled body breaking.

Despite the previous cruse, Draco continued to keep his wand pointed at the man and administer the Cruciatus Curse. He saw the Dark Lord stand up gracefully and glide over to him out of the corner of his eye, all the while the sound of Parseltongue surrounding him, assailing his mind like a hypnotic melody. Draco knew he was pleased, and when he lost sight of the snake, he immediately felt his presence behind him, his ghostly white hands hovering over Draco’s head, his shoulders, his arms, his hand, his wand, basking in the dark magic radiating off of Draco, thickening the atmosphere of the whole room. He nearly jumped when he felt an ice cold hand grasp his right wrist lightly, rising Draco’s arm and cutting off the curse abruptly.

“Please, please…I can’t take anymore.” The Muggle groaned, his voice dripping with anguish and sorrow that was made apparent by the tears streaming down his common face.

“Do you hear?” The Dark Lord whispered in Draco’s ear. “Do you hear how he begs for his death? Finish him Draco. Harness your power, embrace the darkness within; kill him.”

Once again, Draco bowed his head and lowered his wand to the Muggle sprawled out on the floor, now emitting small whimpers of distress. Draco almost felt sorry for the poor bastard, but he knew that if he was going to convince the Dark Lord that he was truly loyal to him, he was going to have to implement his facade of apathetic and cold callousness.

“Avada Kedavra!” Draco shouted loudly and clearly and a blinding flash of green light shot out of his wand, striking the Muggle in his chest. When the intense glow faded, Draco was seen by all standing over the dead body of yet another worthless Muggle who was considered unfit to live on the same plane of existence of such mighty and remarkable wizards and witches.

Draco continued to look down at him. He appeared as if he was sleeping, save for his limbs being frozen in distorted and unnatural positions from the Cruciatus Curse and all his bones being fractured, but there was no mistaking the fact that we was dead. Draco had tortured, he had killed, and he would most certainly have to do it again. He fucking hated bloody Harry fucking Potter.

He noticed that the Dark Lord was no longer standing behind him, and for a moment Draco wondered if he had imagined the whole thing, but he knew that while he had an extraordinary imagination, he could never fabricate something so overwhelming, so malevolent, and so fucking powerful. He knew it had all happened, it was all real, when he looked over at the once vacated throne and saw the demonic serpent descend upon it and his long fingers curl slowly, beckoning to Draco.

As Draco stepped over the lifeless form, kicking it for good measure, he felt a chilling sort of discontentment settle in the pit of his stomach. Draco wasn’t sure if it was remorse for what he had just done, an uneasiness that he knew he would have to do it again, or if it was the lime-seared prawns he had for dinner. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. He had never felt guilty for anything he had ever done, and although he knew it was probably wrong to kill what was considered innocent people, he wasn’t going to let it plague him. He had a job to be done, and he was determined to let nothing get in the way of it.

Draco strolled over to the Dark Lord and kneeled before him once again, banishing all thought and emotion from inside him.

“Your will is done My Lord.” He said firmly.

“You have proven your loyalty to me young Malfoy. I am most certain your father would be proud of you. Now arise and receive the mark that displays your allegiance and commitment to me.”

Draco stood, rolled up the sleeve that covered his left forearm, and held out his unblemished skin to the Dark Lord. The cool tip of his wand met with Draco’s arm and at the sound of an incomprehensible incantation, Draco felt his arm burning painfully. He refused to show any sign of the white hot ache that was afflicting him, and kept his eyes closed until he felt the sensation yield. He looked down upon his once pure unmarked skin to now see a black skull with a snake coming out of its mouth in place of the tongue.

He had seen it so many times before, on his father, his aunt, Snape, but it appeared entirely different on him. He would have the Dark Mark on his arm for the rest of his life, paying homage to his deceit and cunning, and ultimately to his, and probably Potter’s, victory over the prick who burned it onto him. It would be a constant reminder to keep in mind his reasoning for joining these fucking criminals, to keep him sane when he felt the pressure building, to keep him from allowing the darkness and power of it consume him. He may have maimed his perfect flesh, but it was a small price to pay for saving his even more perfect arse.

That night, Draco saw what it was really like to be a Death Eater. He may have had the mentality, but it was nothing compared to how some of the others conducted themselves. Copious amounts of eating, drinking, torturing, raping, and fucking. All sorts of depraved debauchery that Draco would have never thought his father would have taken part in. Of course he may not have, because when Draco was invited to join in, his refusal was taken without any argument, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a witness to it all. That was the night that Draco had trained himself to become desensitized when in the presence of his Dark Lord and brethren, to not let his surroundings effect him, to bury the fury and repulsion he felt until he could let it out safely, to remain impervious to it all. And that was the night Draco became an insomniac.

Over the next 8 months, Draco led his double life while growing accustomed to his abnormal sleeping habits. He followed the orders given to him by the Dark Lord, going on missions and performing numerous cruel and heinous curses. He played the devoted and compliant Death Eater and did what he was told all the while attending secret Order of the Phoenix meetings and relaying all information he knew to Dumbledore, Potter, Weasley, and Moody, who were the only members present besides him and Snape at said meetings. He never stayed at Headquarters long, wanting to avoid Granger, even though Potter told him there wasn’t any chance of encountering her. He was good on his word, the vow he made to keep Granger the fuck away from Draco all those months ago on the stairway at Hogwarts.

He hadn’t stopped wanting her, even during all that time he hadn’t even seen her once, and yet he still hated her with a passion that was all consuming, but it was a passion that he could temporarily dismiss by fucking some no name witch who resembled her whenever he fancied. It was only a slight annoyance, but one that he could control. But when he saw her that night in the kitchen when Snape brought him to Grimmauld Place, the desire he had managed to subdue finally broke free.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, with her hair darker, smoother, and longer, and yet just as wild as it had ever been. She was skinny, too skinny, and Draco couldn’t miss the fit form of her, the tone of the arm that held her wand as she steadily pointed it at him, her small muscles visibly tense under her white short sleeved shirt, the Muggle jeans she was wearing sitting on her slim hips, too low to hide her flat stomach and baggy enough to show that she had lost weight, but not too much because her breasts, fucking hell her breasts, were as they had been during school: full, firm, fitting into the palm of his hands perfectly, as though they were meant for only him. She had also grown taller, but so had Draco, so it made no difference. And then he saw her face, what he knew he shouldn’t have looked at, but couldn’t stop himself.

Her skin, her smooth skin, was pale, paler than he had ever seen it, and he wasn’t sure if it was from her surprise and ultimate fury at seeing him or if she just hadn’t been out in the sun for weeks, maybe even months. Her eyes, those fucking eyes that no other slag he fucked could ever duplicate, were of course flashing with anger, with hate for him, but there was something else. They were hard, bitter, tormented. They had seen war, they had seen blood, they had seen death, and yet, they hadn’t seen nearly as much as his did. And her lips, pink, wet, full, and set in a straight line of disapproval and anger.

Draco studied her while she did the same to him. And he felt it. He momentarily forgot about the searing pain in his side and leg, because all he could feel was the attraction, the want, and the bloody fucking desire for her and along with it came the hate, the hate he had regulated, the hate he used when he needed to without actually thinking about her. And now the flood gates had burst open and he was fucking drowning in it.

He wanted to attack her, to throw her slim body up against the kitchen wall and hurt her, fuck her brutally and viciously. He wanted to get it all out of his system. He wanted to tell her she was dirty, she was beautiful; she was a Mudblood whore, she was his Mudblood whore. He needed her to know, to know that he hadn’t stopped wanting her, but he hadn’t stopped hating her either. He was so close, just a breath away from fucking her against that wall with the old browning wallpaper, burying himself deeply inside of her, so hard, so relentlessly, and so satisfyingly that the whole fucking house would fall to the ground.

Instead, Draco sat at the table, barely listening to the exchange of words between Potter and Snape, chiming in only when necessary, smirking at Granger, relishing in the expression of shock and outrage that appeared once she realized what had been going on behind her back. He even supplied her with a contrast, although it wasn’t spoken directly to her, and just as he expected, she had a retort, without actually responding to him. It almost made him laugh aloud, but he was thankful he didn’t, for he was sure that if he did, not only would his wound more than likely start bleeding despite the minor healing charm Snape did, but it also cause the pain to become slightly unbearable. He wasn’t weak, and he didn’t want to give the impression that he was, so he just kept on smirking.

And then Potter and Weasley helped him to his room, the entire time being subjected to Draco’s teasing, for they knew just as well as he did that Granger was furious with them. They brought him into a room on the third floor, sat him down on the bed that was too small for Draco’s comfort, and waited silently in the room for Snape to return. He suspected both sods were working on their cover stories, because even when Draco told them that if he was disturbed in the middle of the night by the horrifying sound of them shagging, he was going to curse both of their dicks off, all he was met with was a “Fuck off” and “Shut up”. That was it. When Snape arrived, both Potter and Weasley left the room without saying a word, Potter walking into his room across the hall and Weasley going to his a few doors down. Once again, Draco almost laughed, but thought better of it.

As Snape administered Draco with several potions and healing spells they could hear yelling, a lot of it, coming from the floor below. It was muffled, but both of them knew what it was about, who it was about. After it stopped and silence fell over the large house once more, Snape cleared his throat and Draco, who had been staring up at the ceiling as he laid down and listened to Granger’s enraged voice, looked at Snape expectantly.

“I hope you aren’t planning on picking up where you left off at Hogwarts Draco.” Snape said conversationally as he handed Draco yet another vial to drink.

Swallowing the sour liquid, Draco looked up at his former professor dispassionately.

“I am sure I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Snape rolled his eyes and begun organizing the various potions on the dresser for Draco to consume over the next few days.

“I am certain you do. Just remember that you are once again under the same roof as Potter and Weasley, and in a much closer proximity than Hogwarts was. They are protective over her, even more so now that we are in the middle of war. Do not do anything stupid Draco.”

It was now Draco who rolled his eyes. He shifted his position on the bed, wincing at the slight pain that crept up in leg and stabbed him in the ribs, gazing at Snape stonily.

“It isn’t any of your concern. Nor is it Potter’s or Weasley’s. I do whatever strikes my fancy, and so does she, in theory.”

Snape frowned and made his way to the door and opened it. Stopping at the threshold, he turned to Draco.

“You are flirting with disaster. She is dangerous.” He warned stoically

“Since I left school I have done nothing but flirt with disaster and nearly everything that crosses my path is dangerous. I am quite adept at dealing with it.”

Draco saw Snape nod his head in understanding as he stepped through the door and into the hallway, closing it softly behind him.

It was at that moment that Draco realized that he could do absolutely fuck all to help himself when it came to Granger. He would continue to hate her, to want to fuck her, and he wasn’t going to deny it, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to act on it. He would be aloof and distant, and act as though her presence had no effect on him whatsoever. Hell, perhaps Granger would be the one to initiate it, to tell him she wanted him to fuck her mercilessly because she could never truly resist him. He would do nothing, and she would be the one craving him.

But after a few days in the shiteous hell-hole that was Grimmauld Place, Draco knew that no such confession was bound to happen. She was avoiding him, and he was sure that it helped that he was to stay in bed for a couple of days in order to heal fully. Potter or Weasley were the ones who brought his meals up to him, and aside from that, he was left with nothing to do and no one to talk to except for when either one, or both, of the tossers passed by his open door or supplied him with some small form of entertainment. When he was finally able to get out of bed, he barely saw Granger at all. When they did happen to come across each other, she practically ignored him, muttering only a few words in his general direction, usually at the insistence of her two wanking mates.

Even during the Order meeting that Potter had set up to out Draco as a spy and secret member or the Order, she barely even glanced his way. Not even when some of the shocked members had a few choice words for him for the dastardly deeds he was forced to commit or when he stood up to give his own disposition on the subject. At one point he flat out stared at her, despite Potter clearing his throat in growing annoyance or the Order members becoming confused by his blatant eye-fucking of the girl. She still wouldn’t acknowledge him with more than a fleeting glance. It was infuriating!

What made it worse was every time Draco was in the same vicinity as her, his attention would immediately focus on her mouth. It was those lips, those fucking pink full lips that he kissed fiercely so many times, the lips that had been around his cock, the tongue that swirled around his erect member methodically, and the warm wet mouth sucking him off to the point of an earth-shattering orgasm. If she wasn’t biting her bottom lip, she was licking them, causing them to glisten subtly. At one point she actually ran her delicate index finger across the soft surface of her lips in deep concentration. Any time she spoke, ate, sighed, or did anything that remotely had to do with her mouth Draco would feel his blood rush south to his groin in excitement. And although he wanted to fuck her up against some random inanimate object at the very sight of her, he kept himself distant, composed, and even disinterested while on the inside he wasn’t nearly any of those. She had made him want her more than ever, and he despised her for it. It was after the forth day of him being at the Headquarters that Draco made it his personal vendetta to fuck her up and make her a jumble of need and loathing as she had done to him. He would challenge her, and he would win.

So from then on, whenever he passed her in the hallway or entered a room she was leaving as he was entering as she was known to do, he would brush up against her sensuously or have his fingertips come into soft contact with any part of her exposed skin. Her reactions did not disappoint, for every time Draco would do either, he was aware of the faint blush that would adorn her cheeks and the quick flash of desire that would shine in her eyes before being replaced with irritation or anger. He would merely smirk at her knowingly or raise his eyebrows deviously and tell her he hated her. Yesterday, when he stepped out of the bathroom and stepped around her as she made to go in, Draco blew lightly just behind her left ear and saw her skin erupt in tiny bumps, knowing that she was particularly sensitive in the area. She swiftly turned around and smacked him, quite hard actually, in the arm, and told him she fucking despised him before stomping into the bathroom in a huff and slamming the door in infuriation. Draco chuckled softly despite the slight pain he still felt in his side, knowing that he was getting closer to breaking her down.

Draco sat up in his bed, a smile dancing on his lips as he recalled their little encounter. Sleep was too far off. He glanced at the clock next to his bed, informing him that it was around 1:00 in the morning. He tossed the blankets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. He could go up to the next floor and work out as he had done the past few nights. At Moody’s persistence, he had developed a mental and physical régime that would keep him fit in both aspects immediately after becoming a Death Eater. Draco didn’t mind, it gave him something to do at night, and even if now he had started training with Potter and the whole lot. No, he didn’t feel like sweating right now unless it was the cause of a certain type of physical work out that had Granger moaning and writhing underneath him.

And then he felt it; the slight burning on his left forearm that informed him that the Dark Lord was requesting his follower’s presence. Draco knew he was exempt, for Snape had told him the Dark Lord wanted to be certain that Draco would be given the right amount of time to become fully healthy again. He did not miss the contempt in Snape’s tone of voice, and Draco wasn’t sure if it was because of the mere distaste he had developed for being a Death Eater or if he was jealous that Draco was quickly becoming the Dark Lord’s favorite and he was a little jealous. He of course asked Snape about it, and was met with a scathing look of disregard and was told to mind his business. Draco concluded that it was a little of both. The big cry baby.

Draco stood and stretched his arms above his head, standing on the tips of his toes so he felt it all the way though his toned torso and down his legs, causing his gray pajama bottoms to fall low on his waist, slightly exposing his pelvic muscle. He was thirsty, he needed water. Cool refreshing water to tame the bothersome tingling he still felt. He opened his bedroom door, not caring to put on a shirt. As he made his way down to the kitchen he knew that no one other than him would be up at such an hour, so he needn’t care about his state of undress.

* * * * *

Why in the bloody hell was she up at such an hour?

Draco stepped down from the last stair only to see Granger standing at the sink with her back facing him, some dim light emitting from the wand she had placed on the kitchen table while she drank water from a glass. She was wearing a white tank top, the kind that blokes usually wear under their Muggle shirts and loose fitting dark red pajama pants, the bottoms pooling around her bare feet. Her hair was unbound, flowing down her back like a brown waterfall. Feeling the familiar pang of passion, Draco took another quiet step towards her. It was obvious she hadn’t heard him; otherwise she would have probably turned around, glared at him for a few moments, and left the room.

He smiled and walked slowly, his uncovered feet keeping his anonymity. When he stood a few meters from her, he finally spoke, his voice soft but teasing.

“A little late for you to be up, isn’t it Granger?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice and Draco was certain she would have dropped the glass in her hand had it not been centimeters from the counter where she placed it before turning around to face him, her heated eyes narrowed and her breath coming out in short gasps. Her dark eyes swept over him, taking in his slightly disheveled hair, his unclothed upper body, the way his bottoms hung on his hips, every part of him all the way down to his feet and back up again. Draco couldn’t help but smirk when he noticed that her breathing had not slowed, and had the kitchen been lit a bit more, he was sure he would have been able to see the desire she tried so hard to conceal over the past few days.

Granger must have realized that she was staring, because she shook her head imperceptibly and lowered her gaze to the floor. After a moment, she sighed heavily and raised her eyes to look at Draco, her face stony and expressionless.

“What do you want Malfoy?” she asked, her voice just as impassive as her features.

“Water.” He responded simply, pointing to the tap as he made his way past her, his arm brushing hers. He opened the cabinet next to the sink to retrieve a glass and filled it up with the clear liquid before bringing it to his lips.

“Fine. I am going to bed. Goodnight.”

She turned around and started walking in the direction of the stairs.

“Wait.” Draco said after swallowing the cool water in his mouth, causing her to stop in the middle of the room and face him. “I’m not done talking to you.”

“Well I am.” She stated.

“Too bad.” He challenged as he put his glass on the counter next to hers, turned around, and took a step towards her. Right then he concluded tonight was going to be the night to break her, to get her to admit that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was going to destroy her, because he was tired of being randy all the time, he was bored, and he needed to get his rocks off. One might even say it was for some skewed and corrupted shits and giggles.

“Piss off Malfoy.”

Draco smirked at the sound of annoyance barely breaking through the surface of her trying-too-hard-to-be-toneless delivery.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He drawled.

Granger huffed and ran a hand through her hair until it got obstructed by a tangle and crinkled her nose at the block. Draco’s hands itched to do the same, to bury his hands in her soft hair and yank her head back as he attacked her mouth with his.

“Ever the arsehole, aren’t you Malfoy?” she asked as she brought her hand down to her side.

“You have been avoiding me, and, if I might add, doing a damn fine job of it.” He said, disregarding her half-arsed insult.

“I have been busy. In case you weren’t made aware, we are in the middle of a little occurrence called a war.” She replied smartly and slowly in a tone one might use while speaking to a 6 year old.

“Don’t get sarcastic with me, Granger. You know what I mean.”

She sighed again. It was already starting to irritate Draco.

“Maybe I have, but like I said, I have been busy. I don’t have time to play your games Malfoy. My attention is needed elsewhere. If your knickers are in a twist because the world isn’t revolving around you for once, it isn’t my problem.”

Draco scowled at her, but he couldn’t help but admire her sheer bolloks.

“That doesn’t explain the fact that you hardly even look at me or speak to me, and when you do you are cool, calm, and collected. Taking a page from my book? Stealing my old mantra?”

“Excuse me?” she asked crossly.

“Oh you aren’t offended Granger, so don’t act like it. You have adopted my front, my pretense of nonchalance. Only it doesn’t look as good on you. See it makes me appear mysterious, aloof, and sophisticated even. And you just seem to have a bug up you bum the size of an emus.”

Granger scoffed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest, resulting in Draco’s eyes leaving her face to travel downward. He could vaguely hear her saying something like “How dare you?” and caught words like “arrogant”, “prat”, “egoistical”, “training”, and “busy” again. Blah fucking blah. The meaningless words that she was spouting had no effect on him. All Draco could focus on was her glorious breasts being pressed together and up by her arms.

“Are you not wearing a bra Granger?” he asked roughly, not caring that he interrupted her tirade. His gaze returned to her face just in time to see her mouth cease its incessant prattle and hang open tantalizingly as her eyes widened.

“What?” she stammered.

“You aren’t wearing anything under that tank top. And it’s white.” Draco stated, suddenly aware that his mouth was watering while he moved his head slightly to see if her nipples were visible through the fabric in the dull glow of the kitchen.

“How observant of you.” Granger responded, moving her arms so they concealed most of her chest. Prude.

“You know what?” Draco asked as he took a step closer to her. “You are a tease Granger.”

“I am not.” She said incredulously, tightening her arms so that she was practically hugging herself.

“Yes you are. But you are the worst kind of tease. You don’t know you are doing it, or do you?”

“Bloody hell Malfoy; is this what you wanted to talk to me about, because if it is then I have got to say that this is one of the most pointless conversations that I have ever had.”

“Then perhaps we should stop talking.” Draco told her, taking another step, which she noticed this time. She mirrored him by taking a step back and wrapping her arms around her even more.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Granger, put your fucking arms down. I can’t see anything, and it isn’t as though I haven’t seen them before, numerous times.”

She eyed him doubtfully before lowering her head and removing her arms marginally to examine how see-through her shirt really was. She must have been appeased, because she lowered her arms completely, and let them rest at her sides while she glared at Draco.

“Why are you doing this Malfoy?”

“I thought that was obvious.” He took two more steps forward, while she took two back.

She lifted her chin rebelliously, and though there was little light, Draco could see the defiance flashing in the depths of her eyes.

“I thought I was a disease. I thought you hated me.”

Draco smiled carnally as he advanced on her, glancing quickly at the wall behind her. The wall that she didn’t know she was so close to, the same fucking wall that she was in front of that night when all he wanted to do was slam her against it.

“Oh, but I do hate you Granger.” His voice had become deeper, menacing, drenched with loathing and hunger, and he continued to approach her as she backed up. “I fucking abhor you. You are the bane of my bloody fucking existence. But that doesn’t change the fact that ever since you burst into this room, into my fucked up life, a week ago, all I have wanted to do is fuck you.”

At that moment Draco took the last step and her back hit the wall. She tried to move aside, to escape him, but he wouldn’t let her, not anymore. As her shoulders left the wall, he grabbed them and pushed her back violently, causing her to gasp audibly. He pressed himself into her, melding his hard body to hers. She felt warm and small, and her shallow breaths pressed her breasts into his chest with each intake of air. Draco leaned into her, brought his nose to her hair, and smiled. She still smelled like cinnamon and books.

“Don’t Malfoy.” She warned harshly.

“Do you know what I was thinking of the other day?” He asked her as he bent his head to bring his lips to her ear.

“I was thinking of that first time we fucked.” Draco answered for her. “Do you remember Granger? We were having a row, screaming at each other in that empty class room. We were both so pissed off at each other. You, because I left you in the Restricted Section after I let my mask slip while you sucked my cock so expertly, and me because you knew absolutely nothing about what you were speaking of. Your eyes were on fire, and you looked like you wanted to hit me. You were so fucking sexy.”

He darted his tongue out and licked her ear before he continued, his hands still holding her there, his fingers digging into her flesh.

“I told you I had to be strong, so fucking strong because you were making me weak, and you told me to show you. I put you on McGonagall’s desk and ripped open your shirt. Your tits were so fucking beautiful, straining against your bra. I bit you, remember? Right here.” Draco said as his left hand left her shoulder and moved down to tweak her nipple through her shit. It did not escape his attention that it was already pebbled, nor did it when she quietly moaned at the contact.

“And then I pulled your knickers down and drove into you. You were so fucking wet and tight. It was the best thing I ever felt. And I fucked you on that desk so fucking brutally that I thought that it would break in half. And then you came, and I could feel you clenching me, surrounding me, milking me for every drop of come that I poured into you. It was fucking amazing. Do you remember Granger?”

He pressed his erection into her thigh, eliciting another small moan, but no answer to his question. It was no matter. He knew from the way she had stopped struggling against his hold and was arching her back, pressing herself into the hand that was still placed on her chest that she was so close to giving in to him once more.

“What about that night near the lake, during the storm? I know you remember that. We were arguing again, and you pushed me, so I pushed you back. You were fighting it, but you wanted it, just like right now. I put your arms above your head, held you by the wrists,” Draco moved his hands, slowly bringing them down her arms until he had her wrists in both of them, and brought them above her, his actions matching his words, “and I slammed them onto the ground” he said as he slammed her wrists against the wall, “because you like pain, don’t you Granger? It turns you on, just like being restrained does, because for once, you aren’t in control, and you love it.”

He bit down on her neck, his teeth sinking into her skin viciously, and he heard her suck in air through her teeth before muttering, “I fucking hate you.”

Draco licked her skin and lifted his head, ignoring her oath.

“I was so fucking hard for you.” He pressed his cock against her again, more firmly, emphasizing his words. “I ripped your knickers off; I had to be inside you, to make feel it, how much I wanted you, how much I needed you. I fucked you there, on that wet and muddy earth, more animalistic and savagely than I had ever fucked anyone before. And then you told me exactly what I needed to hear, after some persuasion of course. You finally admitted that you were mine. And although we haven’t even seen each other in 8 months, it hasn’t changed Granger, you will always be mine. I still have your knickers, just like I still have you.”

Draco raised his head and stared into Granger’s brown eyes. Yes, there was hate there, but there was also lust. He smirked at her, and her expression turned to one of rage. She moved her head away, refusing to look at him. Draco shifted both of her wrists into his left hand as he brought down the right and grabbed her stubborn chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Get off of me Malfoy.” She growled.

“Why?”

“Because I hate you.”

“Do you really want me to let you go?” he asked teasingly.

“Yes.”

“You are a liar.” Simply put.

“Fuck you!” she spat at him.

“I may fucking detest you Granger, but I can admit I still want to fuck you until there is no tomorrow. I don’t deny anything. And all there is in you, in your dirty blood, is denial. You want me, I know you do, otherwise you would be putting up a much better fight, becuase deep down, you want me to drive my hard cock inside your wet cunt right now, but you feel that just because you hate me, and I hate you, you have to deny what you really want.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you wet for me Granger?”

She said nothing, just stared at him with blazing eyes as the tip of her tongue swept across her parted lips.

“I’d wager everything I own that you are, dripping for me, waiting for me. I am certain that you want nothing more than for me to fuck you, right here in up against this wall. I am sure that the instant I am inside you, whether it be my fingers, my tongue, or my dick, you will come so hard and fast that you will see stars.”

“I fucking hate you so much Malfoy.” She repeated.

“Believe me Granger, the feeling is mutual.”

Before she could protest, Draco captured her lips with his fiercely, and they were just as soft and warm as he remembered. She immediately opened for him, her tongue madly coaxing him into her mouth. Their tongues dueled rapidly, each determined to come out victorious. When Draco teased her, bringing his mouth slightly away from hers, she jerked her head forward and seized hi back, before doing the same to him. When Draco bit down on her bottom lip, she moaned angrily and duplicated his attack. When he pushed his lips so hard against hers that it caused her head to hit the wall, she used all of her strength to fight back. Granger met Draco move for move, determined to not let him triumph. But when Draco released her chin to shove his hand under her shirt and roughly palm her breast, and she tore her lips away from his to lean her head back to rest on the wall and groan huskily, Draco knew he won.

Draco’s mouth moved lower to her neck, licking, sucking, biting, making her moan and quiver against him. His hand grasped her harder, relishing the feel of any part of his skin meeting with hers. He wasn’t sure if it was her flesh or his that felt like it was on fire, and the only comprehensible thought he had was that he was burning for her, that touching her wasn’t enough, he needed more.

Easing her legs apart with his foot, Draco situated himself in between them, thrusting his hard cock against her again. He could feel the heat diverging from her center, through the too many layers of cloth, enticing him, inviting him to reacquaint himself with the pussy he spent so many nights fondling, tasting, fucking.

When Draco glided his hand out from under Granger’s shirt and rested it on her stomach, her heard her softly whimper at the loss of contact, as though she was trying to stifle the sound. Draco smirked wickedly, moving his lips down from her neck to lick the soft skin on her collar bone.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you Granger? You want more.” He muttered in a throaty deep voice.

She groaned this time, a little louder as Draco’s fingertips played at the waist of her pajama bottoms teasingly. He knew she was trying to suppress the pleasure she was experiencing, her groan a testament to the disappointment at the removal of not only his hand, but her self-control as well.

“Don’t deny it, not right now, not when I am so close to giving you what you want, what you need. Tell me you want more Granger, because we both know you do.”

Draco could sense her shaking her head no, refusing to give into him, but her hips betrayed her rejection when she jerked them up smoothly as Draco dipped his hands beneath the waist band of her bottoms and knickers, his index finger slowly and languidly stroking her folds. He was right, she was wet, drenched, and he couldn’t help but growl at the warmth and stickiness coating his digits.

“Tell me.” He urged, unable to cloak the carnality divulging his need as he continued to torment her.

She moaned in frustration before releasing a breathy “More” that Draco was sure he would have missed had he not been waiting for it.

Without warning, Draco plunged his long middle and ring fingers into her cunt, and at the intrusion he wasn’t sure if it was him or Granger who groaned in approval. He moved in and out of her with vigor, pushing into her deeply before drawing out almost completely and then driving into her again brutally and quickly while rubbing her clit with skillful force. Just as he predicted, it didn’t take more than a few moments to feel her inner walls contracting around his fingers and heard her breathing become more labored as her moans grew louder. Draco released her wrists to cover her mouth with his free hand and muffled the scream that escaped as she came violently, somewhat mindful that her orgasm would more than likely wake the whole house.

When she viciously bit the palm of his hand as she came down from her climax, he plummeted his fingers into her painfully, hoping to duplicate the pleasurable pain she had just inflicted on him. She surrendered another sound of satisfaction and Draco felt her hands immerse themselves into his hair, fisting it roughly to bring his mouth to hers so she could kiss him fervently, her tongue matching his unfaltering ministrations. He seized the back of her head, entangling his fingers into her soft tresses, deepening the kiss, devouring her mouth hungrily.

Draco didn’t know how long he stood there, pressing her into the wall, snogging her as though his life depended on it, pumping his fingers into her so harshly and fiercely that he was sure she would be bruised the next day. All he knew was that he had broken her, she could never be as careless and indifferent as him, she was too passionate, and no matter how hard she tried, her emotions would always betray her. He had never known a victory so arousing.

After she came for the third time, Draco withdrew his fingers at the same time he retracted his lips from hers. They were both breathing hard, staring each other down, stormy silver eyes boring into dark brown, silently speaking volumes of equal amounts of lust and loathing. Draco brought his fingers up to his mouth, covered in her juices, and licked them hedonistically, delighting in the tangy sweetness that belonged only to her. He had gone too long without tasting and couldn’t resist.

Leering smugly, Draco let her out of his embrace, took a step back, and watched as Granger closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. Ha! She had come undone and he single handedly caused it. He broke her, he diminished her defenses, and she knew it. Now they were even, she was in the same fucked up condition he was. It may have been considered mean, but since when did Draco give a shite about that? It was much more entertaining than being nice.

“Feeling conflicted Granger?” He mocked. “Attempting to separate your hate and desire only to realize that it is practically the same thing? Welcome to the fucking hell that you put me through each and every fucking day. It isn’t so easy to deny it now, is it?”

She lifted her head from her hands and glared at him, unmistakable disdain etched on her face, flashing in her eyes.

“You think you are so fucking smart you sodding git? Well guess what? I have been just as fucked as you the moment I laid eyes on you a week ago, if not sooner. You think you have fucked me up, brought me down to a level playing field all by yourself? Did you ever consider that I let you do that to me? I could have gotten you off of me if I really wanted to, just like you said, but I didn’t, and do you know why?”

Oh no, this was not good. Damn his arrogance. He should probably work on that. No, wait, that was apart of his enthralling charm. Shite. She was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer her. Shouldn’t a question like that be rhetorical? Apparently not.

“Because you were so overwhelmed by my devastating handsomeness and enthralling seducing abilities that you instantly felt the need to come or else you would implode?” he responded slowly.

Wrong answer.

Granger pushed herself off of the wall and stood in front of him, even more furious. She looked like she was ready to slap him.

“No, because I knew you would be the first to cave. That’s right Malfoy. You forget how well I know you. I know how your distorted mind works. You think I didn’t know that you were just fucking with me, the heated glances you threw my way, brushing up against me every chance you got? I knew you were fucking with me, but I was fucking with you too. You were right, I took a page from your book, I used your tactic, and it worked on you just as it did on me in the past. It was nothing but a competition Malfoy, and I won, not you. It was you who threw me against that wall, it was you who snogged me, it was you who put your hand in my knickers, and it was me who drove you to do all of those things. You lost, I won, and now, it is over.”

She flashed him a boastful smile laced with poison and turned to walk towards the stone stairs and out of the kitchen as Draco felt anger flowing through out his veins. She played him and she fucking won too. There was no way he could negate that. He had never hated her more than he did at that moment.

“It will never be over, you fucking Mudblood bitch.” Draco said spitefully. He knew she heard him by the way she paused briefly before continuing her ascent and disappearing to the next floor.

Draco walked over to the counter where his glass of water sat. He picked it up and drained the liquid. It was still cold and it calmed him enough to where he wasn’t shaking with rage. Now if only it would get rid of the painful erection tenting his pajamas, he would be all set. How could he despise her yet still long for her so much? How was it that he wanted to do nothing more than fuck her and hurt her at the same time? Bloody fucking hell!

Resisting the urge to throw the empty glass across the room, Draco set it in the sink and growled in resentment. He would let her have her fucking victory, allow her to bask in her triumph, because while defeat was sweet, revenge was sweeter, and he fully intended to ruthlessly wreak vengeance on her. As far as he was concerned, now that he had lost, there was nothing left to lose.


A/N~ Smut! Yes! I had to give you guys some, since there have been two whole chapter without it. The nerve of me! Anyways, did you like it, did you hate it, or do you want to be my beta? Either way, leave me a review and I will love you forever!

Chocolateveela~ I was so not tired of you or your reviews. I would say that I am happy I made you cry, because I love invoking all kinds of emotions in my readers, but it sounds sort of mean, so I won’t. I have tried to write original material, some poetry and what not, but nothing so serious. My dream is to be a writer, but I don’t have any ideas that really get the creative juices flowing other than the one you are reading. If I ever do get published, I will let every single person I have ever talked to know.

Lilium~ I take your props, and I say a-thank you! I hate it when I read fanfic that isn’t written very well either. It takes away from the story, so I am glad that you approve.

Lola~ Wow, just wow! Thanks so much, especially for deciding to review for the first time. I hope you aren’t disappointed this time; there is plenty of smut for you to enjoy. Also, I tried really hard to not make that least chapter boring, and I am relieved that I succeeded.

Kayy~ There was no quickie, because then you guys would know whether or not Ron and Harry are gay, and I cannot divulge that information just yet. Muhahaha!! Sorry.

Madeleine~ I can’t believe I have a fan in Sweden! It is amazing that this website transcends all continents and any one from any where can read my story. It makes me feel incredibly small in this world. I promise I will try my best to keep this story from becoming horrendous, but if it does, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I would absolutely hate for that to happen. You offended me in no way, and I hope you review again.

Notthyfriend~ See? I asked for a beta. I know I need one. Also, Harry is in Hermione’s business because she is his best friend and he is over protective of her. Sometimes he is a jerk without realizing it. Maybe, just maybe, she will call him on it one of these days. You haven’t upset me at all, so don’t worry about it! :- )

Molly~ Holy shit, you compared me to J.K.R. Let me just tell you, as unbelievable as that is, it totally made my day, my week even. Thank you for your kind words!

Prufrockgirl~ Okay, something I have to ask something you that has been bothering me ever since I saw your penname. Did you get your name from “The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot? If not, please disregard my extreme dorkiness for all things literature. I can’t help it; I was an English major and have a degree in the subject.


Okay, that's all I have to say. Kisses to you all!

Roberta