Poison

Chapter Four - Deeper In

She was roused from slumber by the soft light filtering through the window, but it was still enough to make her squint as she opened her eyes. She was in his bed, lying between his legs. She pulled herself onto her elbows wearily, and looked at him. He was very handsome, when his face wasn’t twisted into his usual sneer. The sight of him lying there, her legs on either side of him and one of his hands possessively holding her calf muscle caused her breath to catch in her throat. Her eyes studied his face, so peaceful as he slept. Her gaze drifted down to his broad shoulders. She could see tiny round bruises on his arms, and felt a little guilty knowing that she’d put them there. She took in his chest, with its barely-there sprinkling of fine blond hairs, which darkened under his navel and trailed down to his now flaccid manhood. She’d never actually just studied a naked man before, and this particular man had an uncanny ability to get her blood boiling for good, or for bad. His breathing quickened, and she at once knew he was waking. She felt the hand holding her leg tense, and watched as his mouth twitched. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

She was lounging in front of him, still wearing the tiny tank from last night. Her exposed body was pale in the dim light. He noticed her nipples were hard, straining against the fabric - meaning she’d been studying him, and she liked what she saw. He felt all the blood in his body rush south. His eyes dropped down to the soft flesh of her stomach, and then lower to the valley between her thighs. She blushed when she realised how exposed she was to him, and wriggled to try and close her legs, but he reached up and gripped her knee to stay her. She glanced down and watched as he grew, her eyes widening.

She shook her head to snap herself out of it.

“No, not now. We’ve got classes today,” she said, jerking her leg free of his grasp before rolling off the bed. She grabbed her boxers from the floor, and yanked them on. But before she could flee entirely, he grabbed her and pushed her into the door leading to the common room. He leaned a hand on either side of her head, and she lifted her chin to look at him. His silver eyes were cloudy with desire, and his trademark smirk was nowhere in sight. His mouth claimed hers and, now resigned to her fate, she surrendered. Resting her hands just above his hips, she pulled his body in close so it was flush against her. He broke away before the urge to ravish her against the heavy oak door at her back overwhelmed him.

“See you in class, Granger,” he whispered huskily, moving away from her. He grabbed his boxer shorts from the floor, giving her any eye-full of his taut rear end. He heard the bang of the door being flung open as she fled, and a snort of amusement escaped him. Shaking his head, he made his way towards the bathroom. At least she hadn’t kicked him.

* -* - *- *

She couldn’t concentrate on what Professor McGonagall was saying. All she could do was try not to look back at the blond sitting across the aisle from her, feeling his gaze on her like a caress. He couldn’t make himself stop looking. His eyes ran up her leg to the swell of her breast, the curve of her elegant neck, the pink of her pursed lips, the flutter of her lashes as she blinked, and then back down again. His cock was hard, and he desperately wanted to grab her and shag her senseless in the middle of the floor.

He knew that she could sense him watching her, even if she thought he couldn’t tell. Her breathing was heavy, and there was a shine to her skin. She kept squirming under his scrutiny, as if she knew what he was thinking, and the thought was making her excited. He wondered what the hell was happening to them. It wasn’t as though they were going to be some kind of terrific love story. He didn’t even like her. She was snobby and self-righteous. When he’d first realised that he desired her, he had thought himself under some kind of sick and twisted spell cast on him by an enemy. He had tried every kind of counter curse he could, but the longing was still there. He didn’t think she liked him either. He hadn’t really given her any reason to, and he didn’t like to ponder the “what ifs” of things that couldn’t be changed.

Why wouldn’t he stop looking at her? She was having trouble focusing just being in the same room with him, but having him practically undressing her with his eyes from the next row across was becoming particularly unnerving. She shifted again, the heat in her core making it hard to sit still for any length of time. All she really wanted was for him to whisk her off somewhere to ease the pressure. She didn’t understand why this was happening to them, but when she didn’t stop him from kissing her this morning, she knew it wasn’t going to just end with a polite, “Well, thanks for that”. She wished he would stop. People were going to notice if he kept leering at her like that. She did not want anyone to know about this, and she certainly didn’t want it to get back to Harry and Ron. Although the problem would be solved if it did, because the boys would probably rush back here and dispose of the miserable ferret. After all, Harry had been looking for any reason to hex Malfoy since the night of Professor Dumbledore’s death.

She hazarded a glance at him. It was a big mistake that only served to further arouse and frustrate her. His eyes were darkened with lust, and when he caught her gaze, he smiled at her lazily, knowing full well that he looked extremely sexy when he smiled that way. Her breathing quickened again, and she almost moaned out loud. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and the smile dropped from his face as his eyes dropped to watch the tiny pink protrusion. He was nearly panting with excitement.

Thankfully, the lesson ended before any of their classmates, or worse, Professor McGonagall, could notice the heated exchange between the two. The students around them began to pack up their parchments and books as the Professor yelled their homework assignments over the noise. They were slower to pack up their own belongings, still throwing furtive glances at each other, and were soon the last students in the room. McGonagall hurried them up, gesturing them towards the door. They made to go through it together and their arms touched, sending a jolt of awareness through them. Hermione was almost afraid that McGonagall would see the sparks flying between them at the seemingly casual contact, but the Professor simply closed the door. They were left standing in the now-deserted corridor, staring at each other hungrily.

Giving in to his urges, he dropped his bag and just grabbed her, pulling her close and pressing their lips together. She moaned at the contact, opening her mouth to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He turned them slightly, backing her against the wall as he pushed his tongue further into her mouth. One hand dropped to her waist, and slipped under her jumper. Yanking her shirt out of her skirt, he slid his hot palm along the curve of her hip, into the small of her back. One of her hands was tangled in his hair; the other slid down his neck and under the fabric of his shirt to rest on his shoulder.

Suddenly there was an echo of footsteps in the hallway, and he broke the contact between them. Taking a step back, he looked her up and down. Gods, she looked so delicious, with her hair mussed, her lips red and swollen and her clothes askew. Reluctantly, he grabbed his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He leant forward slightly, his cheek just touching hers.

“Don’t take too long at dinner tonight, Granger,” he whispered into her ear. The tone could not be mistaken, and his hot breath on her ear and neck sent shivers down her spine. Then he turned and sauntered away. Leaning her head against the wall for a moment, she tried to get herself under control before heading to her next class. She just hoped she wouldn’t lose too many house points for being late.