This Subdued Fire

The next morning was a revelation of sorts for Hermione.

She eased out of her bed with a soft grunt. Her muscles protested their previous unaccustomed activity. Hermione walked over to the dresser mirror and searched her reflection for some sign that she was changed. It told her nothing. She looked the same as before, totally unremarkable. Although it did look as if she\'d had a rough night. The last vestiges of her bruises had faded to a sickly yellow color and her hair looked like she\'d fought with a particularly vengeful cat.

She prayed that she\'d done the right thing in sleeping with Malfoy. But deep in her gut she knew he would betray her at some point. This made her wonder why in the hell she\'d agreed to his blackmail in the first place. The bedside clock gave a shrill chirrup, signaling the start of the day. She dragged herself away from the reflection and into the bathroom to become presentable to the world.
***********

Malfoy lounged in the decadence of his bed, scribbling away in his journal. He thought back on the events of the previous evening with a grin pasted on his face. He wanted to shout his victory over Granger to the world. Yet, for all his arrogance, he couldn\'t bring himself to violate their agreement. In his own way, Draco Malfoy was a man of honor. The best he could do was to tell his journal, and unlike Tom Riddle, he made sure his journal told no tales.

(...despite Granger\'s obvious inexperience in sexual matters, it would seem that her enthusiasm for the activity is boundless. That is, of course, once you get past the rather parochial strictures with which she binds herself. However, I find that to be part of the fun, making them come to you. I must admit, it was a triumph of mine to finally have her. Granger is my Mme. de Tourvel. I feel that she is an apt pupil when it comes to the amatory arts and after much instruction, will make quite a satisfactory bed partner. I was also pleasantly surprised to discover how lovely she looked in the throes of passion. God, that was such a cliched expression but it was particularly apropos. I think if she ever made the effort she could give Blaise and Pansy a run for their money. Speaking of whom, I think Granger could far surpass either of them in bed. As schooled as they are, their responses are too sophisticated. There\'s no spontaneity. In short, they bore me. Both Blaise and Pansy have become clinging whiners and there\'s no potential for any real amusement. Granger, with that world-class brain of hers could probably provide an endless source of entertainment in that area. I look forward to the task.)

Malfoy re-read his entry and smiled. This was certainly going to be a lovely morning.
************

Malfoy was seated at his usual place in the Great Hall - between Pansy and Blaise. They\'d taken the positions of Crabbe and Goyle, who\'d subsequently taken to seating themselves across from the trio. The problem with this was that Malfoy had a hard time seeing around their massive bodies. As a result, he frequently missed out on much of the little dramas that took place at each table.

He ordered the two monoliths out of his direct line of sight and when they scrambled to new posts, Malfoy surveyed the room, looking for Granger. He didn\'t see her at her usual place next to Potter and the two Weasels. Slightly disappointed, he returned to his breakfast, thinking that he would see her sometime during the day. As it was Saturday, there were no classes.

As luck would have it, Malfoy didn\'t see her at all until dinner.

Malfoy felt a small indefinable emotion stir within him. It was somewhere between lust and guilt. Hermione looked an absolute wreck. There was nothing of the joy from the night of the butterflies in her expression today. Her eyes looked rather hollow, skin sallow. She scraped those wild curls into a severe knot at the nape of her neck. It was not a style that suited her at all. Still, Malfoy couldn\'t help the sudden rush of blood to his head.

She still looked very good to him. And as a Malfoy and a connoiseur of beautiful things, that meant a great deal. It wasn\'t that she was beautiful. She wasn\'t in the least. But there was something about her - something...just something. And having had Hermione once, he meant to have her until he got tired of her. It was the convincing that was going to take some doing. The girl had an incredibly strong will when she wished to exercise it.

But judging from her responses the previous night, Malfoy decided that it would be simpler to appeal to her baser instincts. Not give her too much to think about. It was going to be a quite a task, sidestepping the minefields of her fertile mind. Although, he thought with a grin, it was a task that he felt that he was most definitely up to.

Hermione, for her part, didn\'t even seem to notice that Malfoy was there. She scurried into her seat and refused to meet his eye. She knew he was staring at her, waiting for something. She refused to give him the satisfaction. The fact was, she felt like dirt. Her actions scared her. The guilt was eating away at her.

She refused to let her friends see it though. Hermione showed up at the dinner table to a chorus of \"where were yous.\" Even Ron showed some concern. She brushed them off with an \"I went to the library.\" Most went back to their food and conversations. Others were not so convinced.

Ron fired his opening salvo. \"What do you mean, \'you went to the library?\' I was in there and I didn\'t see you once.\"

\"I did leave and come back. I probably wasn\'t there when you were. Besides, I was sitting at a back table.\" Hermione picked up a roll and buttered it calmly.

\"Trust me, Herm. I\'d have known if you were there.\"

The soft tone of Ron\'s normally boisterous voice made Hermione look up at him. Ron\'s eyes glittered with something she\'d never seen in them before. She had an internal shiver.

\"Well, I was there. Either you believe me or you don\'t. That\'s a judgment call you\'re going to have to make for yourself.\" She made herself sound so sensible, so composed, that Ron had no choice but to back down.

\"Hmm,\" was all he said, sounding unconvinced.

(Underneath it all, he cares,) she thought. But she merely gave a Gallic shrug and went back to her dinner.

The conversation ebbed and flowed around Hermione. She listened with only half an ear. The other one and a half were on What Draco Malfoy Was Doing Over There. She noticed that Pansy and Blaise were falling all over him as usual. Milicent Bulstrode seemed to be cozying up to Crabbe...or was it Goyle. Did it really make a difference?

Some of the newer Slytherins, the ones a couple years below her, were also making googly eyes at Malfoy. Pathetic really; she made a face at them. There were a couple of blondes and a redhead. Draco, true to form, lapped up all the attention lavished on him. He accepted it as his due. Just for being Draco Malfoy. Hermione\'s hand itched to slap the smugness from his face.

The irritation, the hate for Malfoy was a familiar feeling, one she embraced rapidly. That other feeling, the one she wouldn\'t dare put a name to, she pushed down. Strictly in the name of sanity, mind you. It would be insane to suggest that Hermione Granger, Our Head Girl and Mudblood Extraordinaire felt the sting of the green eyed monster.

And underneath it all, guilt. Horrible, horrible guilt. It gnawed at her. She\'d not slept with Harry or Ron, despite countless opportunities. They loved her, each in their own way; cared about her. Yet she hops in the sack with Malfoy at the first chance she got. She felt guilty about that. She felt like she betrayed not only herself but her friendships, indeed, the whole of Gryffindor House.

One of the key elements of being a Gryffindor was that you despised Slytherin. That always went without saying. And no matter what Lavender or Parvati or any of the other Gryffindor girls said, not one of them would compromise themselves by being involved with a Slytherin, let alone the supreme Slytherin.

When Ginny and Draco had their brief, ill-fated thing or whatever, Hermione envied the younger girl. Hermione was not only jealous of the fact that Ginny managed to snare the boy who was arguably the best looking in school but she also the fact that Gin had the absolute nerves to throw an eon of tradition to the wind, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin and Weasley vs. Malfoy and date the blond boy.

However, Hermione could see now the reason for the breakup. Ginny didn\'t pose much of a challenge for Malfoy. The youngest Weasley had an affinity for bad boys, courtesy of Tom Riddle. No one knew what transpired between Ginny and The Boy Who Would Become Lord Voldemort. Riddle certainly wasn\'t talking and neither was Ginny. Hermione was insanely curious but couldn\'t work up the nerve to ask.

Hermione could understand what made Ginny turn to Tom. For a small time she was once outside the magic circle of Ron and Harry\'s Friendship, with a capital F. It happened on more than one occasion and it was admittedly because of something she did. Frankly, she was still on the outs with Ron, who was still sore about their breakup.

Before Hermione could ruminate further on these depressing thoughts, she felt a tickle on the back of her leg. Looking down, she saw a feathery white spun Sugar Quill. She snatched the quill up and looked around. Malfoy was enjoying the attention lavished on him. No one was paying her any attention; Ron, Harry and Seamus were having an animated conversation about Quidditch.

The quill appeared to be pre-inked. Hermione rummaged around in the pockets of her jeans and came up with a scrap piece of parchment. She uncreased the paper and began to write.

*What is this about?* She queried.

The letters on the page broke apart and rearranged themselves.

*I want you to meet me in our spot. 11 o\'clock and don\'t be late.*

The quill was obviously from Malfoy.

*I have no intentions of meeting you anywhere at anytime, Malfoy. Our agreement was satisfied. You gave your word of honor.*

Once again the letters rearranged themselves.

*This has nothing to do with that. I thought you might be curious as to what else there is.*

Hermione was admittedly curious. The few late night fumblings she\'d shared with Ron or Harry left her thinking \"is this all?\" The two boys were typically awkward and clumsy. Draco, though, had a tutored touch, something of a slow hand. And that intrigued her. However, getting into any kind of relationship with Malfoy, even a purely sexual one, was a dangerous proposition. Then again...the damage was done. And Malfoy was, if nothing else, relatively discreet about certain things. No one knew about the whole thing with Ginny until it was over. And everyone knew that if his father knew he was shagging a Muggle born, Malfoy would very likely be cut off from the family fortunes, which were extensive.

*So you\'re offering to be my tour guide. How very very thoughtful. Thanks but no thanks. I\'m not stupid, you know.*

*I never said you were stupid. It\'ll be our little secret. Come on. What have you to lose?*

What *did* she have to lose? If no one knew she could indulge herself to her heart\'s content and no harm, no foul. And Malfoy was devilishly attractive. Suddenly Hermione knew how Eve felt when being propositioned by the serpent. Hermione\'s mouth quirked up at the corners thinking of the serpent, for is that not what Malfoy is? She scripted a response before her better judgement could take hold.

*We shall see.*

*I look forward to it.*

Hermione could picture his sly grin. It matched the one quirking the corners of her own mouth.
***********

During the course of the evening Hermione joked with Harry, bantered with Ron and generally betrayed none of what was going on in her head. She was good at that. Everyone knew that she mulled over a problem until there was one piece, one clue that gave her an \'a-ha!\' moment. She was famous for her \'a-ha!\' moments. They assumed she had some such similar thing going \'round her brain.

They weren\'t too far from the truth. Hermione was trying to solve the problem of Malfoy. What in the hell was she to do with him? She couldn\'t bloody well go on sleeping with him. Even she wasn\'t naive enough to not know that he was merely toying with her. Even more puzzling was the fact that he wanted to continue their carnal relationship. Malfoy\'s thoughts on Muggle-borns were well known around the school. She thought it might be related to their shared powers. But it couldn\'t be all that. It never once entered her mind that Malfoy could be intrigued by her.

Yet intrigued he was. The performance he put on, with all the girls clamoring for his attention, it was all for her benefit. So that she would see that even if she was his current choice of sex partner, she could be replaced. And quickly replaced at that. Malfoy saw the slight look of disgust that flashed across Hermione\'s features when she saw him. He grinned. It was just the sort of feeling he wished to arouse in her. He wanted every girl to be in competition for him. Especially her. Still surrounded by all his friends in the Slytherin common room, he couldn\'t shake his thoughts of her.

She thought she was too good for him, with her plebeian bloodlines and *ugh* middle-class upbringing. Just because she was a bloody Gryffindor and one of Potter\'s damned best-friends. Ever since third year when she\'d slapped the hell out of him, he\'d been waiting for his chance to get back at her. Catching her out after hours, practising wandless magic and stretching her talents had been a stroke of supreme luck. It appeared that God did, indeed, heed the prayers of the wicked.

And he\'d enjoyed just about every moment of their encounter. All except that flash of pain that lit her eyes and rippled through her body. He honestly never expected her to be a virgin. He\'d thought that she\'d long ago been deflowered by Potter or Weasel. It was a strange sense of satisfaction that neither of them had been the one to storm the castle walls, so to speak. Thinking of Hermione\'s tight, unused body made him shiver in anticipation.

He thought about how, even in her exhaustion, Hermione\'s eyes burned fever bright above her cheeks. There was an innate sparkle in them that intrigued him so thoroughly. He saw her smiling at her friends across the dinner table and knew she was mulling over the problem of him. Draco rather liked being chief in Hermione\'s thoughts. It soothed his vanity.

Something tugged at his reverie. It was Pansy\'s nasal voice, whining about something stupid, as usual.

\"Well, Draco? Who\'s it to be?\"

Draco looked at Pansy from across the big table in the Common Room. \"Excuse me? I was woolgathering, Pansy dear,\" Draco drawled, knowing she lapped it up when he doled out the endearments.

Pansy took the bait and blushed, not unbecomingly.\"I wanted to know who you were taking to the Seventh Year Ball. Me or Blaise.\"

\"Now, now. It\'s much too soon to know. I may just go alone.\"

His pronouncement had the intended effect of making Pansy spin off in a tizzy about how a boy like him shouldn\'t be going stag. She ended with, \"...and it just isn\'t *right*, Draco!\"

Blaise, who was sitting on Draco\'s left spoke up. \"As much as I hate to agree with her,\" Blaise
replied slowly, with a hint of ennui. \"I have to admit she\'s right. You of all people shouldn\'t be going alone. It wouldn\'t be good for your reputation.\"

As she spoke, Blaise\'s hand slid from its resting place on his knee to his inner thigh. The weight of her hand burning through the thin wool of his trousers had a pleasant effect on him. He smiled silkily at Blaise.

\"Well, Blaise...I might take you, if you\'re a good girl.\"

Pansy looked most put out while Blaise looked triumphant. She moved her hand higher, Pansy none the wiser about what took place under the table.

\"And we both know I\'m *very* good, don\'t we Draco?\" She gave him a light squeeze.

\"Oh, yes. But how much better would you be by then?\" He took her hand off his throbbing member.

\"I could be the most excellent of girls if you would give me a chance to...demonstrate my talents.\" Blaise was most shameless, Draco thought.

\"Hmmm...well, it remains to be seen ladies. And now I bid you adieu.\" He rose from the table and glided from the room.

As he left, he could feel Pansy\'s and Blaise\'s eyes on his back. His ears picked up the faint rumble of thunder in the distance and it made him smile.

(Someone\'s a little upset. I wonder who...) Draco\'s smile widened.