Slaughter

AN: Thank you for all your lovely reviews! Oh and Ginger? 'Malaysian' means something from Malaysia, hope that cleared it up for you :) I hope you all like this chapter, it was hard as for me to write, but I think I was mostly procrastinating (I'm a terrrible procrastinator haha). I was trying really hard to keep Draco in character.. so I'd really appreciate your reviews telling me how you think I did :)













“Ohh Draco do you like that?”



He stared down at the dark haired girl with the page-boy haircut kneeling between his legs who was currently planting kisses in a trail down his stomach. He really wished that she’d stop talking and just get on with the job at hand, so to speak. Running a hand through her short hair, Draco pushed gently but firmly southwards, hoping that she’d take the hint and do something productive with her cherry lips other than talk. Taking the hint, Pansy busily got to task, expertly unzipping his pants and pulling them down just enough to free his cock, which she took in her pretty lips and began to work her hands up and down.



Leaning back, Draco shut his eyes and tried to relax. He was so tense lately, and it was all Granger’s fault. She seemed to be everywhere these days, dogging him about their stupid duties, the rules, constantly hovering over his horizon. She was in all of his classes, raising her hand so very high in the air until it seemed like she was going to jump out of her chair with excitement to answer yet another question. ’Professor, I believe its... Professor, I think it’s... Professor, the properties of a dung beetle are..’ All day long he had to listen to her high pitched, earnest little voice squawking on about something or other. God he couldn’t even enjoy Pansy’s expert ministrations on his cock, not that there was much going on in that department right now. Shaking his head and groaning he opened his eyes and raised a single eyebrow in question of why she had stopped. He hadn’t told her to do any such thing, and Pansy was usually so obedient.



“Draco, you’ve gone soft.”



“Well don’t fucking stop, it’s not going to get hard again purely from the power of you staring at it.”



He snarled angrily at her, a scowl spreading across his face as he spoke. Merlin he’d gone soft from frustration. It was a credit to Pansy’s unspoken love for Draco that she simply silently smiled at him and went back to work with a renewed effort, without any of the snickers he knew he’d get from any number of other girls in her position. ‘Draco Malfoy cant keep it up’, they’d whisper in the hallways as he walked past. The old cliché came to mind; ‘this has never happened to me before.’ Shutting his eyes again he blocked out any thoughts of Granger, focusing on the pure sensation of Pansy’s skilled hands teasing his balls with gentle caresses as she worked to get him hard again. But the little bitch kept sneaking into his mind, like a cut on the roof of your mouth that you knew would heal if you could just stop tonguing it, but you cant.



Granger in class with her hand constantly up, like a dog begging for a treat. Granger trying not to hex him as he called her a mudblood yet again. Granger standing there in her pristine, perfect little uniform, babbling on at him about lists to be made. No sneaking her skirt an extra two inches shorter like the other girls, no slightly too tight shirt designed to show off her assets to the greatest advantage, no not her. No, just the plain, regulation uniform, subconsciously sending out signals to boys that screamed at them to keep away.



As he slowly felt himself stirring back to life, Draco found himself imagining walking up to her as she was babbling on at him about something and slapping her across the face to shut her up. Granger falling in a heap at the floor by his feet from the force of his slap, where she belonged. On the floor; no make that in the dirt, with all the other dirty bloods. His palm marking that ivory skin, bleached from hours in the library, crimson.



He groaned softly, not noticing that he’d made the sound. Fully hard now, a sweet vision of Granger formed inside his head; stumbling to stand up, grabbing onto his arms to help her stand, him pushing her back down to the floor with a sadistic grin. Granger whimpering, realising her place, a fat tear rolling down her face over the crimson spot where he had marked her. Granger defeated, admitting to him that he was superior to her in every way.



By this point his breath had become rapid, the head of his cock glistening with a bead of pre-cum that Pansy eagerly licked off. Granger’s perfect uniform ripped and dirty, hanging from her shoulders and revealing tantalising glimpses of what lay beneath the yards of fabric. Granger kneeling in front of him, in the dirt where she belonged, her uniform completely gone now, laving his cock with her tongue, looking up at him with her big melted chocolate eyes –



No!



But it was too late, and all too soon Draco found himself shuddering to a climax, fisting Pansy’s hair within his hand to keep her in place as he pumped his hips upwards, forcing his cock down her throat deeper. And all the while visions of Granger were dancing in his head. He kept Pansy in place with his hand until he was completely spent, imagining the silky black strands of hair to be a mass of bushy brown curls, with her head held down and his eyes shut it was almost too easy to replace the girl in front of him with his fantasy.



Then suddenly it came to him what he’d just done. He’d actually jerked off (because that’s all Pansy was to him really, vicarious masturbation) while thinking about the mudblood. Merlin, this was not good. He suddenly felt dirty, unclean, the sweat beading on his brow unclean, he needed to shower right now, wash the thoughts out of his head. Scrub them out, he amended, knowing that no quick Scourgify was going to get the images out of his head. Unclenching his fist and letting Pansy’s hair free, he pushed her away with the same hand that had previously held her close. She sprawled on the floor in just a bra and panties (Draco took a moment to wonder exactly when she’d undressed herself), reminding him of what he’d just fantasised about.



“Get out.”



“But Draco... I thought we could maybe...”



“Out. Now.”



She scrambled up from the floor, picking up her skirt as she went, shimmying into it at the same time as she toed on her shoes. She buttoned her shirt last, disappointment and unshed tears shining through her eyes as clearly as if she wore a neon sign around her neck. Draco didn’t care, he needed her gone. He sat woodenly on the bed, staring down at his knees, working hard to keep his face blank even as his mind raced. Why Granger? Why not any other girl in the school? Why had he thought about her? He’d never thought about her before, other than to make fun of her and to curse her existence. Merlin, this was all her fault.



He stood, pacing around the room, zipping his pants as he did so and letting them slip to their natural place, low on his hips. He let out a loud curse, followed by a quick succession of “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” Scraping his hands through his hair, Draco paused his pacing in front of the large mirror that dominated one wall of his room. Staring at the reflection back at him, the bare chest that glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, the platinum hair in disarray, the stormy grey eyes that were slightly panicked. He took a deep breath, and then one more, watching his face slowly become the cocky mask he’d let perfected over the years slip into place once more and tried for a smile. It was shaky, but once the facade was back in place he felt better.



“Get it together you pussy.”



He spoke harshly to himself, focusing on the situation at hand. So he’d accidently thought about Gran- the mudblood (he corrected himself automatically). One time meant nothing, he’d been angry with her before Pansy had begun, so it wasn’t totally surprising that thoughts of her had snuck into his mind. No, it was completely understandable. ‘Yes, completely understandable, fantasies about one of the people you hate worst in the world, everybody does it.’ a snarky little voice in his head whispered.



The person in the mirror looking back at him didn’t look convinced, the smile was gone, and there were cracks in the mask. His frown was too big, he wasn’t supposed to show his feelings unless he wanted him. ‘A Malfoy is always in control’, Draco heard his father’s voice sternly reminding him, as he’d done so many times throughout his childhood when Draco had lost his temper over some thing or another. ‘It’s always better to remain in control, let your opponent get angry, make mistakes. Malfoy’s are above that.’ Draco wondered how his father would react to this. He let out a loud, frustrated scream. What the hell was wrong with him? Alright, he simply needed to deal with this, and not make a big deal out of it. He was letting his emotions get the better of him.



Objectively speaking, there was nothing wrong with what had happened. Something happening once did not mean it was going to happen again, and it certainly meant nothing. He repeated this sentiment to himself over and over again, that nothing had happened, and that if he just put it out of his head and forgot about it then everything would be fine.



He was always happier once he had a plan, and so with one more deep breath Draco slowly but surely began to think about all the other girls he’d ever fucked, rating them on skill, body, post-coital behaviour. Daphne Greengrass, a seven for body, five for skill and after-sex behaviour; her sister had been much better even though she was a few years younger. Tanner Marshel, four for body, but she had fat girl mentality and was always really grateful for the attention so she gave it her A game each time. A Nine for skill he decided. He continued on in this way, focusing on the girls he’d known, refusing to let any thoughts about bushy brown hair or chocolate eyes into his mind.



After about a half hour of this, Draco was feeling much calmer and was ready for bed. Pulling off his pants once more, he slipped between the sheets in nothing but his boy-leg briefs, and shut his eyes, soon sinking into a sweet oblivion.



His dreams were a tangle of colours and sensations, bright lights and shadows. A faceless girl was riding him, her head thrown back in abandon as she worked her body frantically up and down, thinking only of her own pleasure, a field of blue grass, the blades softly exploring his flesh, caressing it with their soft tendrils. A dark hallway, laughter echoing through it as he ran down it, searching for something but for the life of him he didn’t know what. The dreams slid cohesively into one another, into one long thread of dreams that made sense in that perfect way that they only did in a dreamland where you questioned nothing. The girl was what was prominent though, clutching at her own full breasts, pulling and twisting her nipples, wrapped up in her own pleasure to the extent where she thought nothing of using him, riding him hard. She gasped and moaned, her face still hidden from sight in the darkness that seemed to envelope everything around them. Faster and faster she rode him, panting like a bitch in heat. Draco reached up, licking the sweet salty sweat from her neck, as frantic as she was, taking her hips in his hands. In the way of dreams, it was soon over, skipping past the most important moment, the girl lay beside him now, exhausted, spent, a fine sheen of copper coloured perspiration marring her perfect ivory skin. Draco ran a finger down the slope of her breast, collecting beads of the substance on his fingertip, bringing it to his lips. It was thick, unlike water, almost like... blood, but dirtied somehow.



Mudblood.