Bittersweet

Hermione was floating. There was no other way to explain her happiness.

She and Ron were dating! They had kissed—or rather, snogged until they were both quivering and he had quietly said he would see her at dinner. When she had asked why he was suddenly dismissing her, he had placed her hand on the bulge in his pants, and she had turned very red before telling him shyly Ok and fleeing the scene.

Initially, she had been planning on heading to the library, but was too excited to sit still. Instead, she had decided to go for a walk, hoping to calm herself down, through the castle.

Soon she found herself in a very familiar hallway—not far from the Room of Requirement—and wondered if perhaps she should pop in when she saw Malfoy coming out.

He looked like a gothic model, wearing nothing but black, yet pale with his longish equally pale blond hair.

His eyes locked on her, and he smirked.

Not even Malfoy could crush her spirits. She was in love! Love!

“Hello Malfoy!” She cheerfully said—and did she skip?—as she made her why by him. She might have, “Wonderful world, isn’t it?”

Malfoy felt his cock stir to be on the receiving end of her smile, so he could only conclude that it was entirely her fault, what followed.

“Awfully happy today, Granger?”

“Yes, I—“

His hand lashed out to painfully grab her arm, and she gasped in surprise, reality finally breaking through to her—this was Malfoy.

“Well I can’t have that, now can I?”

“Lemme g—“

She was stunned when he brought his hand over her mouth to silence her and, one arm around her waste, dragged her into the Room of Requirement.

He let her go, and as she reached for her wand, he disarmed her with an, “Expelliaramus!”

“Ah-ah-ah, can’t have you tossing curses in my direction, now can I?”

She was shaking now, her fear plainly visible. Hermione might be proud, but she wasn’t stupid. Only a fool would not feel fear in a moment like this.

“Malfoy, I don’t know what your game is, but when I tell Dumbledore—“

He laughed, and there was a raw tension as she waited, anticipated his next move. Was he finally going to kill her?

He lunged, and she found herself on the floor, pinned between his powerful legs, and she wildly tried to force him off, but it only seemed to make him happier, her distress.

Even then, she had not been aware of his intention, not until she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her belly—he was practically sitting on her, and she froze in horror.

As if to emphasize his point, he looked down at her look of frozen horror and rubbed himself against her, smiling like a villain.

She began to struggle more wildly then, and the only sounds for a few moments were light gasps and grunts, and she frantically clawed at him, tearing his skin, and he snarled, slapping her in response, and she cried out.

“Don’t, don’t—“

He pulled up her skirt and tugged her underwear down, plain cotton knickers, and he laughed derisively, “So fucking typical, Granger.”

She was crying, and bidding for one final moment to escape, she rolled over and tried to crawl away, but he caught her ankle and flipped her over back onto her back, and her head slammed against the ground so that she briefly saw stars.

She was dully aware of something big and hot pressing against her, as if seeking entrance, then screamed in agony when he tore through her, breaking her hymen and rendering her in two, it felt like.

She tried to escape, but he held her still, “Fucking mudblood, I hate you, do you hear me, I hate you.” He was hissing this as he began to move in and out of her, every movement causing her to cry out in agony.

“Stop, oh God, stop, it hurts--!”

“You don’t like it, Granger?” He sneered, “You don’t like my pureblood cock inside you? I thought all mudblood whores loved nothing more than to take it hard and wherever they can get it,” His face, in repose almost pretty, had twisted into something harsh and violent as he raped her.

His eyes rolled back in his head as he came, jerking against her as he filled her. The orgasm had ripped through him, even more satisfying than when Pansy had sucked him off, and he saw spots before his eyes when he opened them again.

“Fuck,” He breathed, covered by a fine sheen of perspiration, resisting the urge to slump on her and instead arched away from her, still deeply buried in her.

After a few moments, he slowly pulled out of her with a wet pop, the sound of bodies separating, and immediately she scurried backwards, pulling her body protectively into a fetal position.

He stared stupidly at the blood on his cock, now soft, and smiled wistfully.

Of course Granger had been a virgin.

She had been perfect.

He would fuck her again, if he did not have practice soon.

Why not fuck her again? Later?

He carefully scourgified himself, then glanced at Granger, finally trembling before him and felt his lip curl again.


Obliviate!” He pointed his wand at her, then quickly took advantage of her confusion to scourgify her and fix her clothing.

Good as knew, minus the virginity, he thought proudly.

He left her like that, and for the first time in months went about his day happy.