Jealousy

As it turned out Malfoy hadn't matured as much as she had thought. He still whined like a two-year-old when he got hurt.

"Hold still."

"Granger! That bloody hurts! Quit poking me."

"Do you want me to heal this or not?"

"Healing isn't supposed to involve all that prodding. If you weren't a sodding muggle you'd know that. Doctors have to poke and prod. Healers know better."

She graciously chose to ignore his snarling because he was sporting a huge black eye earned in her defense. "I wouldn't poke you if you'd quit squirming around."

"I'm certain that Madame Pomfrey doesn't jab like that, and it only takes her one try."

"That's the wand movement in the book. If you like Madame Pomfrey so much, go to her."

"Your flaming boyfriend gave me this bruise. The least you can do is heal it. I was rolling on the ground like bleedin' common trash for you. You'd think you'd be a little more gracious."

"Well maybe if you'd shut up for five minutes I could concentrate and heal your stupid little bruise. I am grateful. That's why I don't give you another shiner to match this one and walk out of here."

"You had better be grateful after all I've done for you…"

"This whole thing was your idea Malfoy!"

"No," He almost sang. "I seem to recall you laying out this particular plan." She took a deep calming breath. In through her nose, out through her mouth. "Maybe your memory is faulty, along with your dismal judgement in friends and lovers."

She tried the spell again. "Mucilaginousio" and spun her wand in a small circle before pointing it at the large purple bruise. Malfoy was right about the wand movement; it worked better if she didn't jab quite so much. This time almost all of the swelling was reduced and some of the color faded. She tried it again with less of a jab and more of a swivel and was rewarded with almost unblemished skin. She couldn't help her pleased smile. She immediately turned to some of his other, smaller bruises and healed them quickly. It was all in the wrist. "I'm not sure of the spell to get rid of the abrasion over your eye though…if we go to the library I can look it up."

He touched his eye, almost hesitantly and gave her a long look. "That was nicely done…Thank you." There was something about the way he was looking at her, the tone of his voice, that let her know that wasn't what he'd originally intended to say. She realized with a start that she was very close to him, her breath in his face, her body almost touching his. When she'd been concentrating before he hadn't seemed too close, but all of the sudden he seemed to be an overwhelming presence and she had to step back to get her bearings. "Right then, let's go."

Hermione dried her suddenly damp hands on her skirt and glanced down at herself. She quickly did up her blouse, pulling at her skirt to straighten it. Malfoy took the hint and started to put himself to rights as well. There was no way she would ever be caught in the library looking freshly kissed and indecent. There was nothing to be done for her hair without a sink full of water and a mirror so she just pushed as much of it behind her ears as she could manage. She wished she hadn't left her robe lying on the window seat. The story was probably all over the school by now.

"Back to get our robes?"

He nodded his head, pushing himself off the desk he'd been sitting on. He opened the door and gestured her through and Hermione had to hide a small smile. Opening doors and being polite to her was beginning to become a habit for him. Then she frowned because in all of her time at Hogwarts she couldn't once remember Ron holding the door open.

Granger had the most delightful way of wriggling her ass when she walked. He'd never noticed before because she was either wearing her Hogwarts robes or those horrid baggy pants, jeans, whatever. But that short little pleated skirt gave a whole new meaning to legs up to her neck. He was fascinated with the bounce around her thighs as she bounced on ahead of him. Every third or fourth step there would be enough swing in her step to get a glimpse of the lace around her thigh high stockings. If he hadn't seen them for himself, he would have never believed she had them on.

He knew for a fact he'd never seen her wear stockings before which meant that she had put them on special just for today's scene. That made it ten times hotter.

His mind flashed on some naughty librarian porn in his fathers' collection and he quickly looked away from her nicely shaped behind, trying to force his mind elsewhere. If he didn't get control of his thoughts he was never going to get control of his body. Even a naïve virgin like Hermione would eventually realize that he had a hard on the size of a summer sausage. But like a polarized magnet his eyes were drawn back to the girl in front of him.

And try as he might, he couldn't get the scene from the window seat out of his mind. He had thought he could be all business about it. He'd been with dozens of girls just as pretty, if not more beautiful than she was. He was a man of the world. But when he'd stepped back and taken in the scene he'd known he was in trouble.

She was the very picture of seduction just as he had intended her to be. Unfortunately for him, he had felt very seduced, and a telltale bulge in his pants.

Just from looking.

Her hair a sexy mess around her face and shoulders, a wayward curl nestled against her chest. Which he had a tantalizing glimpse of, since her pristine white blouse had been un-buttoned. Her skirt riding up her legs, black lace from her stockings hinting out from underneath.

Oh yeah, he was definitely in trouble. But it had been too late to back out and the horrible unbiased truth was that he hadn't wanted to. Just the thought of climbing between those milky white thighs had him revving at the engine, all systems go. She'd of course been too nervous to know just how much trouble she was in.

And then touching her. Even now he shuddered at the memory of hesitant kisses and undulating hips. Arching her back for him, offering her neck, letting him run his hands up her silky thighs. If bloody Weasley hadn't shown up he had no doubt he'd have shagged her into the ground.

Just now had almost been even worse. Her bent over him, half undressed, her scent all around him. Her hair brushing up against him, her cool fingers on his skin. He'd had to resort to snarling at her. It was either that or kiss her senseless again, only now he had no excuse. He didn't fancy being slapped silly.

Again.

Now he was following her like an obedient puppy down the corridors. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why he was tagging along. Mission accomplished, the whole school had no doubt that he and Granger were hot and heavy. No reason to be hanging around with the girl. He ought to be down in his common room fending off snide remarks and getting patted on the back for bagging the Gryffindor prize virgin. He just couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her ass. Leaving would mean leaving behind the view as well. He was a Slytherin, he was just being lecherous. Right? Right! It made perfect sense.

Maybe Voldemort had messed around with a Mudblood and that's why he was so barmy.

The taste of her was still in his mouth.

Her scent was on his skin.

He was in trouble.

What he really needed to do was go fly for a bit. Clear his head. Although he couldn't imagine flying with a woody to be too comfortable.

She stopped abruptly and he realized that they had reached their destination. She handed him his robe, wordlessly shrugging into her own. The fact that he had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't realized where he was jolted him out of his preoccupation. It was very unlike him. He blinked as his eye candy was put away and squeezed his eyes shut.

This was not good.