Pretty Girl

Reviews:
Morgan80Snape: I’m very sorry to keep you waiting! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

jd: I’m glad my story tastes so good.

Fallen Star: I’m glad you love this story and that you are finding things in it that you love.

Clare1984: I love a good slap in a story. Especially when it is placed just right and adds to the dramatic and sexual tension. I love infusing humor into stories at the most random times, I kind of get a kick out of forcing my morbid sense of humor on an unsuspecting fic. Yeah Hermione’s fighting it all right, isn’t she? She just needs to man-up and accept how nice he looks naked!!

Brayzen: I don’t believe I ever condoned the killing of innocent people. However, if you knew your history, you would see that after the Americans celebrated feasting with the Native Americans, which is exactly what they did. We celebrate a holiday that is supposed to be about working together and helping out neighbors, but what did the Americans do next? They tried to wipe out an indigenous race of people. So no, Thanksgiving is not about the celebration of killing innocent people, which is something I never said it was, but Americans do have short memories. They like to gloss over the fact that we killed a lot of Native Americans because they were ‘savages’, forced them onto reservations, destroyed their culture and then tagged them like they were animals. So if you have a problem with how I present the history that actually occurred, and that I don’t sugarcoat it with a nice little ‘and we all worked together for the common good!’ then I don’t need your patronage of my story, because it has nothing to do with my writing or this story. Thanks!

kazfeist: I worked really hard to keep them on the same level. I think it is very important that they both fall into this mess with the same velocity. Thank you for the review!

LittleMissPrincess: I’m glad you approve! I wanted them to stay the way they are.
Kefira Hajari: I AM a Southern girl. Sort of. Technically, I live in the middle of America (Missouri) but MO was a Slave State, meaning it was a Southern State, even though the Mason-Dixon Line bisected the state, so it was sort of half and half. My mother is from Baton Rouge, which is waaaaaay South, so maybe that’s where I get it from? Enjoy this next chapter!

Enjoy!!


Chapter Four

He was watching her again.

Gods damn him, he was watching her again. He was beginning to notice all her little quirks, slowly becoming obsessed with the timing of her movements. She always bit down on her lip when she was deep in thought. In class she would place the tip of her quill at her mouth, the feather accenting her skin beautifully. At dinner she ate slowly, meticulously, savoring every crumb of food. Then her pink, pink tongue would flick out and swipe at the corners of her lips, picking up any left over bits of food. He watched her in class furiously scribble notes, listening intently to whatever the teacher was saying, even if it was bullshite. She was so intense, so focused, so disciplined that he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if that attention was directed at him.

Only at him.

He shuddered as he thought about it, the voice of his teacher being drowned out by the mess in his head. She would be just as meticulous with his body as she was at the dinner table, savoring over every bit of skin, taking her time to lick down his white flesh. No doubt that she would have a fierce determination when it came to pleasuring him. She would close her eyes as she arched her back while she rode him, her hair falling down to tickle at his thighs. She would bite that damn, insufferable lip as she closed her eyes, racing them both towards their passionate finish.

He breathed in deeply, his eye narrowing down to almost nothing.

This would not do. He had to stop this.

He could not imagine what would happen if someone found out. Not only would this bring his life to an untidy end, but there was also the fun and very probable fact that is would destroy Hermione’s life as well. The Dark Lord would find some reason to hurt, and possibly, kill his parents as well, thinking that Lucius had caved to his wife’s demands. The Dark Lord always thought that the Malfoys were too soft on their only child, and that they should all be honored that Voldemort thought Draco could be of much assistance to the Cause.

As if was, Voldemort could not wait to get his hands around Draco’s neck, branding him with the Dark Mark, and setting him up as a spy within the Order.

Draco’s life was well planned out for him. Too bad falling for the mudblood hadn’t been in the cards.

It struck him with sudden clarity. He was falling for the filthy bitch. He could not get her out of his thoughts, he longed to touch her and taste her, to ride her body into oblivion, but he also longed to just talk to her. He longed to walk with her and hold her hand like a normal boyfriend could. He wanted to show her off, take her home and parade her in front of his parents. He wanted them to see that a commoner, a muggle born, could be the pride and envy of all. He wanted to shove her accomplishments, her accolades, and her beauty in their faces in a defiant and triumphant testament that they had been wrong all this time.

Not for the first time, he realized he was well and truly dead.

*

The rat bastard was watching him again. Hermione considered for a second, thinking that term was better applied to Pettigrew. Fine, then. That motherfucking spawn of deatheaters was watching her again. She could feel his eyes boring into her and it turned her stomach. He had shown up in her dreams last night again and, against her desires, had arrived naked. Maybe it was in accordance with her desires, because dream-Hermione had subsequently given him the fuck of his life.

Granted, she had almost no idea what she was doing in regards to sexual intercourse, but her dream self had been able to work magic on the young Slytherin’s body, employing tricks and giving him pleasure in ways that seemed to defy her logic and reason.

Her shoulders itched from where he was staring at her.

She fought the urge to turn around and mutter a hex at him. It was really getting annoying. It had been a little over a week since his declaration on the deck of the Astronomy Tower. She had confronted him after the meeting, but that obviously had not been enough. She was going to have to do something about his clear obsession with her.

If anyone saw the looks he gave her, or the way he concentrated on her, disastrous events could take place. If his feelings were actually genuine, he had picked one hell of a time to fall for a mudblood.

But then again, Hermione was banking on the idea that this was all an elaborate joke. She knew Malfoy was smart, second in their class, and so it did not make sense for him to risk so much on a joke at her expense.

She also knew he was cruel and unusual, which aided the little voice inside her head that said he was not joking around. He was too focused on her for it to be an elaborate joke. Of course her sense of self-preservation wanted to chalk it up to a joke, but that little voice inside her head said that this was no joke. Her mind was warring with itself, the larger and louder part telling her to ignore him, and that he’d go away because he was only being cruel and the smaller part whispering that those looks and those words could not be false.

Her head was beginning to hurt.

The bell rang and she watched as Snape strode over to Malfoy and whispered in his ear.

The boy’s eyes narrowed and, defeated, he nodded once. Hermione’s breath caught as he swung his eyes to her, the malice and fire clear as his silver eyes burnt into her being. She watched as he gathered his things, his eyes locked on hers, his stare holding heat that was not sexual in nature. Swallowing, she hurriedly shoved her books in her bag and turned on her heel, racing from the Potions classroom.

*

Draco was not amused. To say he was pleased would be a bold-faced lie. To say he was anticipating spending his evening with Snape would be an exaggeration of the truth.

As a matter of fact, he wanted to kick his Professor in the teeth right now.

Snape had insisted that Draco drag himself down to his office after dinner so they could discuss his ‘little problem.’ Draco chewed on the inside of his lip as he thought over the ridiculous phrasing of that question. As far as Draco was concerned, he did not have a ‘little problem’. Everyone else in his life had the problems and he was just being dragged along for the ride.

He had shot daggers at Snape’s retreating back after class, only to find her staring at him. Well, since she was the cause of his ‘little problem’ then she should get the full brunt of how he felt. He hadn’t meant to make her run off, but apparently he had stared at her little to aggressively. He hadn’t meant to put the full weight of his anger into his eyes, but she had nearly wet herself at the look on his face, running for the classroom before the big, bad, blond deatheater’s son could eat her.

He paused in his walk down to his Professor’s office. Eating her would be just fine.

He allowed himself a brief image to flash through his mind, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply, before continuing on his descent into the Dungeons. He nodded at some fellow Slytherins that were walking through the hallway, the students giving back their own acknowledgment before slithering off to do whatever dark deeds in whatever dark corners they could find.

Draco stopped in front of his Professor’s door and knocked once. The door swung open and Draco stepped inside, striding purposefully to the open door that led into Snape’s inner office.

The imposing teacher and deatheater was sitting behind his desk, grading papers. Draco sat down in the blasted uncomfortable chair in front of his mentor’s desk and waited. He knew the dour wizard would acknowledge him when he was ready and so Draco sat there, arms folded across his chest.

Snape began to shake his head, his quill making angry, red slashes on some unfortunate’s paper. “Damnable dunderheads,” he said after a few minutes, before pushing the paper away from him and looking up at Draco. “Do unfold your arms. It gives the impression that you would rather not be here.”

Draco breathed in deeply through his nose and uncrossed his arms, letting them rest at his sides. Snape gave a sharp nod before getting up and fixing himself a drink.

“Of course, I would fix you one myself, but I’m sure they have laws against professors giving students alcohol. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to think I slipped some Veritaserum into yours. I’m sure you will realize the gravity of the situation and tell me the truth on your accord,” Snape downed his drink and poured himself another, walking back to his desk and settling down into his comfortable chair. “Let’s not mince words. I have seen what is going on and I’m sure your father would not be pleased. What the hell is going on with you and Miss Granger?”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, the idea of telling Snape the truth not even registering in his mind. “Nothing.”

Snape eyed his charge and then slammed his drink back, fixing Draco with a heated gaze. “Bullshite,” he intoned, his voice showing no emotion. “You know I could jump into that little, pointed head of yours and garner all the information I desire. And again, what are you doing with Miss Granger?” Snape began to tap his finger against his desk, a clear sign that he was annoyed.

“I thought it would be fun to play with her,” Draco sighed, never breaking eye contact with his professor.

Snape blinked and then stopped tapping his finger. “Play with her? In what way?”

Draco shrugged, wondering if his lie would work. “I want her to fall in love with me, sir.”

Snape raised his eyebrow at his pupil. “And what purpose would that serve?”
Draco held himself with dignity and pride. The mocking voice of his teacher bothered him, but he had gotten himself into this stupid lie so he might as well compound upon what Snape would, no doubt, see as an idiotic plan.

“I want her to love me so deeply that when I betray her, her whole world will crumble, Sir. I want to wrench her from the hands of Potter ad Weasley, make it so she has no one but me, and then destroy her with my betrayal.”

Snape cocked his head to the side, considering his student for a second. Draco blanched when the dark wizard began to chuckle, his head shaking from side to side.

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say, Draco. Get out and don’t let me catch you staring at her again. You looked rather foolish, like you wanted to throw Miss Granger on my Potions table and ravish her. Get out, boy.” Draco could tell that Snape wasn’t truly angry with him, and that he didn’t believe him either. Draco stood and bowed slightly, then turned and left Snape’s office.

So Snape didn’t believe his plan. Replaying the conversation in his head, he groaned. He didn’t believe his plan. He was rather surprised that Snape hadn’t screamed and cursed him. Surely Snape knew that Draco falling for a mudblood right now could be the demise of all of them. Surely he knew that and it was clear that the Potions Master hadn’t accepted Draco’s piss poor excuse either.

Draco barked the password to be allowed into his Common Room and strode to his room. He did not acknowledge any of his sycophants that were waiting for him and instead slammed his door shut. He quickly stripped off his clothes and got into bed, his silk sheets bathing his naked flesh in a pleasurable feeling. What he wouldn’t give to have Hermione’s naked flesh flush against his sheets as he pounded into her.

Disgusted with himself, he rolled over and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come easily.

*
A/N: Well, it’s been a while. I know some of you will be mad about Snape’s portrayal, but it’s all for the ‘greater good’.

See, this is what happens when you don’t have a laptop and you have to go home where you don’t have a computer. Stupid winter break!!

I am back! And ready to fight the good fight!!

Fun Fact: I am taking a class on medieval philosophy regarding religion and politics. So if my next story is influenced by that, you’ll know why!