False Pretense

A/N: This was loads of fun to write and I'm sorry margaritama! I shall keep all my stories to myself. Lol j/k. When you're hit with the muse bug you're basically screwed and I have tests to study for but no...I want to write stories. ACK!!!

Songs:
Mutilating the Turnover
All-American Rejects – Gives You Hell
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SL8GIqhrhI

Better Late then Never
Rihanna – Disturbia
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6zdhHLvT7k


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Mutilating the Turnover
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Dinner passed by excruciatingly slow and, for once, Hermione wanted to bang her head on the table and just growl like a mad woman. Draco had pranced in half an hour later, waltzing to the table while girls of every house swooned and whispered giddily about whatever rumors swarmed around him that day, and decided to sit abnormally close to her. His knee often wacked her leg when she crossed it and instead of giving her the pointed look she expected, he grinned and winked. Winked!

“How has your first week been, Draco?” McGonagall asked, leaning over from the Headmistress’ chair.

“It has been very….productive,” Draco shrugged, cutting his steak into small strips. “I am thoroughly enjoying the challenges I am presented with.”

His eyes lingered on Hermione for a second but she simply rolled her eyes and went back to her chicken. Draco snickered at something Flitwick piped up about a student getting caught in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Dinner disappeared just as it had arrived and Hermione felt full but was eager for dessert. She stiffened in her seat as dessert arrived and watched out of the corner of her eye when Draco placed an apple turnover onto his plate and proceeded to put one onto hers.

“What are you doing?” Hermione growled, pulling her plate away from Draco – who was holding her ‘supposed’ apple turnover on his fork.

“What does it look like, Granger?” Draco purred, grinning at her as he plopped the turnover onto her plate, “Inter-house unity? Ring a bell?”

“I’d like to ring your neck,” Hermione snapped, glaring at the turnover as if it had insulted her mother.

“Have you spoken to Hermione about your patrol routes, Draco?” Professor Sprout asked, nibbling on the end of a licorice stick.

Draco nodded and grinned wickedly, “Yes, Professor, we spoke very closely earlier today about it.”

His eyes flashed to hers and she had the urge to grab her fork and stab him in the jugular. He pursed his lips lightly before turning back to Professor Sprout and Flitwick.

“I wouldn’t mind talking closely with Professor Granger in the near future. She is quite pleasant behind closed doors.” Draco continued, nudging Hermione with his elbow.

She wanted to saw her arm off and then whack him over the head with it but she just gritted her teeth. Professor Sprout didn’t seem to catch Draco’s off hand comment and merely nodded.

“Oh wonderful, and you don’t mind?” Professor Sprout asked, “We would surely trade locations if Hermione hadn’t made schedules for the entire year….”

“I wouldn’t put it past Professor Granger to have everything neat and tidy,” Draco replied with a shrug, “But no, I do not mind. It will let me catch up with my old friend.”

His eyes glimmered under the torch light, causing Hermione to want to leap to her feet and smash his face in with his goblet and the bottom of her shoe. Too bad she never wore heels or else she would gladly stick it up his arse all the way to the hilt. Then again, he’d probably enjoy that. Stupid prat.

“Oh lovely,” Professor Sprout nodded in agreement, returning to her conversation with Flitwick.

“I’m going to kill you by the night’s end, I know it,” Hermione grumbled, stabbing at the turnover with her fork.

“What is up with you and torturing your food?” Draco asked, leaning unusually close to her, “It hasn’t done anything to you.”

“I’m just visualizing what I want to do to an annoying git sitting beside me,” Hermione snapped, flashing wicked eyes at him.

“Oh honesty,” Draco sighed with faux emphasis, “Professor Snape isn’t that bad.”

He shot Professor Snape a sympathetic look before chortling quietly. Professor Snape was currently pushing the apple pieces from the turnover and placing it on the side of his plate. Hermione clucked her tongue and made a stabbing motion into her turnover, watching the apples squirt out of it.

“I wasn’t talking about him, Malfoy,” Hermione nearly snarled, ripping her turnover into pieces.

She froze when she felt his hand on her thigh, not high enough to be anywhere dangerous but still touching her. Draco leaned in, his breath sweet with sugar, and whispered, “I know that, Granger. I just like getting under your skin but…I wouldn’t mind getting under something else.”

He slowly pulled her robes up a little, the fabric brushed against her skin so lightly that it sent shivers and electric pulses straight to the apex between her thighs. She jumped and scowled at him, pulling her fork under the table and poked him hard in the hand. Draco hissed and pulled his hand back, examining the four little holes on the top of his hand. Small droplets of blood dripped across his hand and Hermione felt triumphant. She quirked both eyebrows and smirked at him.

Draco simply pulled his napkin from his lip and wiped the blood, crumbling it up and tossed it onto his plate. He glared at her and turned to join Professor Sprout and Flitwick’s conversation. Hermione shifted happily in her seat and reached over for another turnover, daintily cutting it and thoroughly enjoying herself. She felt Snape’s gaze on her and turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head and cleared his throat, returning to his meal.

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Better Late then Never
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At nine o’clock the hallways were barren. It was strange considering Hermione never remembered curfew being so early, but then again she hadn’t really abided to such rules. She knew they lowered the curfew after the war and made all teachers select Prefects who would receive extra training with the basics of defense Aurors first learned. It was more of a privilege for others interested in becoming Aurors to become a Prefect and, in return, there were hardly any problems.

Patrolling had become strict regimens after the war. Not even teachers patrolled alone, but as a result they spent longer times patrolling and went to different areas. Snape having stepped down at Head of Slytherin House was now paired with McGonagall, leaving Hermione to deal with Draco. It was as if the fates were trying to push her buttons with this bloke, not that she wanted to have him push her buttons. She was content with patrolling alone and, for once, hated that she had already taken the liberty to write down who was patrolling with who and when.

Hermione climbed from Gryffindor tower and made her way to the dungeons where she would meet blasted Draco and do the two hour patrol. It was always a little chilly at night, even during the summer, so Hermione wore thicker black wool robes and shoes with two pairs of socks. She noticed that the corridors to the dungeons were far draftier. Given that the dungeons were always a little creepy, Hermione shivered as she waited by the designated meeting point.

“You’re early,” came a sooth drawl from her right.

“I’m always early,” Hermione mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Draco wore a dark emerald cloak that was buttoned high into his neck. He reminded her of a young, blond, attractive Snape by the way he looked. His hair was slicked back, as if he had just gotten out of the shower, and he had an unnatural glow to his skin. Maybe that was why she heard loads of rumors that he was a ‘god’ in bed, or against the wall, because he certainly did resemble one at that moment. He walked in the same fashion, as if he were floating over the stone ground. Draco came to a stop next to Hermione and smirked at her, waggling his eyebrows.

“I see you’ve dressed up for me,” Draco purred, leaning in as Hermione moved forward in an attempt to avoid him.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Hermione said, walking a few steps ahead of Draco.

“I like to take my time, Granger,” Draco replied, striding over to meet her.

Damn those long legs. She would have to sprint to get away from him, but that was immature and she was an adult. If he couldn’t be mature about this, then it was his problem and not hers. Draco lit his wand as they climbed the staircase to make a sweep through the halls beside the dungeons. No one said anything as they moved; Hermione entered one door and lit her wand, nothing. Draco did the same with another room and both returned at the same time, nodding curtly.

They reached the end of the library corridor when a large gust of wind blew past. Her robes lifted and she shivered heavily, rubbing her hands together. Hermione was about to take a step when she collided with a hand holding out a pair of black dragon hide gloves. Her eyes lingered on them and followed the hand to the arm to the shoulder and to the face of its owner.

“It’s just gloves, Granger,” Draco muttered when she raised her eyebrow, “Last thing I want to be blamed for is if you got sick.”

He shoved the gloves into her chest and moved ahead of her. Hermione watched his back and narrowed her eyes. This man was off his rocker, plain mad and nutters. First he was trying to get into her knickers and now he was treating her as if she had rejected him. In reality, she had but nothing he ever said could be taken seriously. Could it?

Hermione shoved her hands into his gloves and felt warmth travel up her arms and through her limbs. His hands were so much larger then hers, as was evident from the size of his gloves. She quickly caught up to him and made sweeps of the corridors and nooks where students often were caught snogging. Draco glanced over at her when she was around to round the corner and watched her freeze.

Rushing quickly, Draco was about to ask if she was alright when she knocked back into him. His lips were parted but she covered his mouth before he squeaked out a sound. Draco frowned and pried her hand from his mouth, about to snap at her for touching him when he heard it. Squishing. Panting. Moaning.

Her eyes were wide and she was blushing heavily. Apparently, miss goody-two-shoes had never come across students actually shagging in the corridors. He knew every spot like the back of his hand, of course, and could only chuckle silently when she tried to muster enough courage to break it up. Draco and Hermione leaned over the side of the wall, very much like teenagers, and watched two students rut on top of one another.

A Slytherin boy was thrusting heavily into the quim of a Gryffindor girl, her feet dangling in the air with a pair of knickers hanging from her ankle. Draco mentally groaned at having to write to the Slytherin boy’s parents, especially considering that his family often dined at the manor with his parents. As for the girl, she would hardly be considered attractive, even if he were a sixteen year old student. Then again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Hermione inhaled and took a frozen step but when she parted her lips to scold, nothing came out. Draco rolled his eyes and stepped out in front of her.

“Oi,” Draco said loudly, causing the couple to topple over from behind a suit of armor. “I’m sure I don’t have to ask you two what you are doing, but I’d advise you to zip it up Stebbins.”

“P-Professors,” Blakely Stebbins, a sixth year Slytherin said in shock, rummaging to pull his pants up. “I’m…we’re…I…Uh…”

“That will be enough, twenty points from Slytherin and…”

“Twenty from Gryffindor, Ms. Fletchly,” Hermione interrupted, finally having found her voice.

She appeared from around Draco and quirked an eyebrow as the young mousy blond tried to pull up her skirt and button her blouse.

“Detention as well,” Draco added, sounding a little bored, “This Friday in the dungeons. Don’t bring your wands, you won’t need them. Now, scram.”

They nodded in unison and ran into one another before bounding off to their respectful houses. Draco spun around and grinned at Hermione.

“Better late then never, Granger,” he teased, poking her with his wand, “I bet you’ve never seen that before.”

Hermione scoffed, “Like you’d know. I’ve been here three years and I’ve seen…a lot.”

Draco chortled and shoved his wand into his pockets, “A lot huh? Then why did you go numb and look as if you caught Potter and She-Weasel shagging on your textbooks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione sniffed, tilting her head up as she moved past him.

Draco’s hand shot out and grasped onto her arm, pulling her back against the wall. Hermione let out a grunt and gasped for air when her back hit the stone wall behind her. She frowned and moved against him, pushing on his chest.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, rummaging into her pockets for her wand.

“Tell me you’ve never thought about it, Granger,” Draco breathed, holding his hand up to reveal her wand twirling between his slender fingers. “Tell me you’ve never thought of me shagging you up against this wall. Rough. Hard.”

Hermione’s face grew pink and flustered as she parted her lips, “Give me my wand, Malfoy. I won’t hesitate to knee you in the groin and ruin any chances of you having offspring.”

“Mmm,” Draco purred, rubbing his nose against her neck, “Is that a promise?”

“Get off me!” Hermione growled, shoving him as hard as she could.

She swiped her wand from his hand and then slapped him. Her palm stung from the slap, even through the dragon hide gloves. Draco’s head spun to the side but he quickly snapped it back, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Lunging for her, Draco grasped onto the back of her neck and pulled her sharply to him, his lips collapsing around her mouth. Hermione struggled as he chewed and nibbled at her plump lips, tasting the mint from his toothpaste.

She brought her hands to his shoulders to push him back but he only pushed harder against her. His tongue traced over her lips, seeking entrance and she did the one thing she shouldn’t have. She let him. Hermione’s head was reeling as their tongues played with one another. Draco’s grasp on her loosened and he pushed her lightly against the wall. Hermione moaned into his mouth, tilting her head back to correct the awkward angle between them, Her hands traced over his arms lightly feeling the muscles beneath his robes.

Draco pulled from her slowly, their kiss eliciting a small pop once they parted, and he smirked. “I take that as a yes.”

Hermione pushed him back and stormed off across the corridor, her cheeks flushed and lips red. Draco, however, leaned one arm against the wall and grinned. He brought his fingers to his lips and wiped the sweet taste of her kiss from him before strolling down the other end of the corridor to finish his patrols.