Restless

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For two people that shared a bathroom and common room she made herself remarkably scarce.


Twice now, she had left him notes, very polite note, asking him to please handle the prefect meetings without her. The first note claimed she had an urgent meeting, which couldn’t possibly be rescheduled, with her Head of House.


Tonight’s excuse was even more pathetic; she supposedly had left her potions essay in the library and hadn’t realized until an hour before tonight’s prefect meeting that the said essay was missing and luckily she had just remembered where she had left it.


Oh, she was most assuredly hiding from him.


Draco crumpled her note in his hand. He was finished waiting her out. His brief taste of the little Gryffindor princess had not been enough for him. He intended to immerse himself in her fully and frequently.


Draco enjoyed dominating others. He liked asserting his authority; after all, he had learned from the best since the time he was old enough to stand at his father’s knee. However, with Granger, this was more than a little slap and tickle. The dance of sexual tension that played between them, their battle of wills was driving him fucking crazy. He had grown tired of the sycophantic attention he received from the opposite sex. It bored him. She, however, never bored him. Thoughts of her finally submitting to him had led to many a sleepless night. And, she would submit to him because Draco Malfoy ALWAYS got what he wanted.


He got such a rush from her spit and fire. She was a little hellcat, just waiting to be tamed. He didn’t want to break her but he did want to bend her. He wanted, no needed, to dominate and exert his authority upon her, she was his and she would learn that quickly. The cherry on top of the icing (he smirked at his pun) was she was a virgin. His little kitten was untapped, exquisitely passionate, and ripe for the plucking. She would be all his, no one else’s. She’d belong to him. She may not know that yet but she would. This current battle of wills was over. Her little game of hide and seek would end tonight.

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Hermione stared into the fire lost in her thoughts. She was sitting in one of the overly plump, squishy chairs in the Gryffindor Common Room she, Harry and Ron had claimed as their own since first year.


She’d gone into hiding and was so disgusted with herself. Torn between pusillanimity and anger. She was a Gryffindor for goddess sake. She didn’t run away to lick her wounds, she faced things head on. That was until now. Now she spent her evenings here in the Gryffindor Tower and used the prefect bathroom for her evening ablutions.


She rubbed at her temples. She hadn’t just gone into hiding, she was specifically hiding from him and what made it worse was she knew he knew she was hiding from him and knowing that he knew exactly what she was doing was the very reason she could no longer continue on like this. She had responsibilities after all. She sighed.


Oh but Gods, that night, oh sweet Goddess that night.


She groaned and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and flushed from head to toe, heat pulled low and tight in her body until dampness seeped between her thighs. She squirmed in her chair. He had spanked her, SPANKED HER . . . then gave her the most intense orgasm of her life. She was in turn humiliated, embarrassed, mortified and so incredibly aroused.


What was wrong with her? She should be furious with him. Yet all she could think about was that hand smacking her, those fingers touching her, moving in and out of her. Desire sparked within her as she thought of his very talented hands and fingers. Goddess help her, she wanted his hands all over her body. She wanted him to continue to exert his dominance and control over her.


Oh Gods, she pressed her hands against her flushed cheeks, there had to be some kind of defect within her surely. When had she become such a masochist? With one word or one look, he had the ability to make her ache with want. The world had surely tipped on its axis.

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The day after “that” had happened; she made her way down towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Moving into her usual spot between Harry and Ron, trying to act as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She had sat down then sprang up from the bench. That had bloody well hurt! Her bottom still ached. She looked up to find a hot, silver gaze staring directly at her. The bastard had actually had the audacity to smirk at her.


“What’s wrong, ‘Mione?” Harry asked.


“Oh, nothing, Harry, wait I see it now. Someone left something on the bench.” She made a move to flick the nothing off. She looked up and locked gazes with Malfoy once more as she tenderly sat back down pushing her robes under her to cushion her bum. He lifted his glass, that damn smirk still and place, and saluted her with his pumpkin juice. The arse. She glared at him wanting to do nothing more than wipe that smirk clean off his face. As if he could read her mind, he cocked his eyebrow at her and slowly shook his head as if to tell her to mind her attitude.


Her eyes widened as pink swept across her cheeks. She could feel her heart start to beat faster. She looked away quickly, squirming slightly due to a familiar dampness between her legs. Taking a big gulp of tea, she tried to swallow the butterflies dancing wildly in her throat and tummy. She turned to Harry and Ron trying to pretend “He” didn’t exist.


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She shifted in her squishy chair staring into the firelight. Just the thought of him admonishing her with a look caused her to squirm. She had desperately wanted to wipe that annoying smirk right off his face, the prick. “Hmmm, I wonder what it looks like.”



Hermione sat up. Her face flaming, wait no; she didn’t just think about that. She had been thinking about that stupid smirk of his. Yes, his face . . . his stupidly, beautiful face. She growled into her hands, shaking her head.


“Arghhhh”, so this is what she had been reduced to. A simpering, whimpering idiot of girl that was no different from one of his gaggle of admiring geese. Why was it when she was near him she felt a mad rush of adrenalin surge through her? It was like the feeling you got before you took that first big drop on a roller coaster.


Truth be told, she liked that he pushed back and did not take any of her guff. She liked his arrogance, self-assurance and she definitely liked his ability to make her lose control. For the first time in her life, she had been able to just let go.


On one hand it had been liberating, on the other hand, it had terrified her. Maybe this was why Ron and she hadn’t worked out. They had neatly stepped into their prescribed roles: Hermione becoming a mini-Molly and Ron a lumbering-Arthur. She dictated the balance of their relationship. It wore her out completely and shot the spark, zest, and zing between them right out the window. They were much better friends than would-be-lovers.


No, if she were honest with herself, she needed a man who could dominate her, not the other way around.


Sighing she rose up from the chair and closed her robes around her. She had rounds to make and really couldn’t shirk anymore of her Head Girl duties. She grabbed her wand, kissed Harry and Ron on the cheek, then left the common room.


She finished her rounds quickly, leaving the dungeons for last. She made a slow circuit in no particular hurry to get closer to the Slytherin Commons but she wanted to ensure an empty Heads common room by the time she got back to her dorm.


As she walked by the Potions classroom, she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath in anticipation of walking into any Slytherins, specifically a white blond Slytherin until she began to let her breath out slowly through pursed lips. She rolled her head,concentrating on letting the tension ease from her shoulders and flow out of her. Finishing her rounds with no surprises occurring, she headed towards her rooms. She whispered the password and peeked into the HCR.


Safe! Not a white blond head in sight, she walked in closing the door behind her. She tiptoed quietly up the stairs approaching her room.


“Hello, Granger.”


She whipped around to see Malfoy leaning against his doorway, arms crossed over his chest.


“Malfoy,” she acknowledged with a brief glance and turned back towards her door.


“Did you find your essay?” he drawled.


“I did, yes, right where I left it on that back table I had been using earlier today by the . . .” She trailed off, she was babbling. And he knew it – the bastard. He smirked, watching her intently. She was beginning to feel like a very small mouse being eyed by a very large cat.


“Can I help you with something?” She squeaked out in a very high voice.


“I never realized how much of a Hufflepuff you were, Granger,” he said in a low, deep voice.


“What are you on about, Malfoy?” she schooled her face into what she hoped was a reserved and bored façade.


“Gryffindors are supposed to be known for their courage, their fearlessness. How very disappointing to find you have neither.”


“If you just intend to spout nonsense, Malfoy, just save it. I’m tired and want to go to bed.” She moved back to her door. Why wasn’t her door opening? The hairs rose on the back of her neck.


“We will talk now, Princess.” His voice low and silky. Merlin, he was right behind her, how did he move so quickly? She whirled around to face him and he stepped closer deliberately breaching her personal space.


Her eyes widened.


Draco towered over Hermione effectively trapping her with both his gaze and body against her door.


He placed his hands on either side of her head, palms flat against her door. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Ohhhh, he always smelled so good. Damn him. She could feel her carefully erected shields begin to crumble when he moved his body against hers and she could feel the warmth and hardness pressed against her. She looked up at him, unconscious of the invitation she offered as she tilted her head back against the door her curls falling riotously around her shoulders. Her body tingled with anticipation, desperately wanting to feel his hands on her again. As he looked down at her, his look dared her to not move, not bolt as he gazed down upon her full red lips and those lovely dark chocolate brown eyes.


Draco was captivated. She smelled sweet like finely spun sugar. He wondered if she would taste as sweet, would she melt in his mouth? He intended to find out.


Lowering his head, he crushed his lips against hers. Gods, the taste of her mouth was warm and soft. She tasted like caramels and apples. He sucked on her lower lip, running his tongue across it then biting softly down into that plumpness. Hermione felt desire ignite within her, a rush of heat shot straight to her quim. She gasped with need and opened her mouth.


Never having been a man to pass up a perfect opportunity, he plunged and locked his mouth to hers.


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A/N: Please review!
Thank you Margaritama, beta extraordinaire, you da bomb, Girly!