Twisted Game

TITLE: Twisted Game
SHIP: D/Hr Goodness
RATING: NC-17, just to be safe
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in the Potterverse. If I did, I’d be rolling in cash on a nice beach on an island somewhere in the Carribean, sipping watermelon slushes to my heart’s content. However, all characters and canon situations belong entirely to the Queen of the Potterverse, JKR. I humble myself before her and beg not to be sued. The intentions of the fic are good in nature. No profit was made from the writing of this fic. The plot is mine. Anyone caught stealing it without my written(e-mailed) consent will be cursed and tattled on/reported. It is intended to be a one-shot that was inspired by staring at a drawing of the Dark Mark one fine day... I don’t think I’d be able to pull another chapter out of this even if I wanted to. I love it the way it is. Enjoy! ^_^
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Twisted Game

“Draco,” Hermione moaned out in the dead of night. Her body felt on fire where he touched her, and she didn’t feel like she could take his torture much longer. She snaked her fingers through his sleek blonde hair as his were... elsewhere, causing her to only be able to form only one coherent thought–

“Oh, Merlin, Draco!” She was biting her bottom lip to keep herself from crying out like that again. Merlin only knew what would happen if they were found out. Harry and Ron would most likely kill him, and she couldn’t have that.

“Draco, stop,” she breathed out as she reached out for his hand.

“What is it, ‘Mione?” he asked, his voice rough and laced with unslaked lust.

“I want you,” Hermione answered him in a nervous sort of voice.

“That’s what I’m here for, love,” he said, nuzzling into her neck; something that made her toes curl up with pleasure.

“No, Draco,” she began. “I want you in me this time.”

He stopped and looked down at her, holding himself up. She’d never consented to that before. When they first started these meetings, he’d been eager to do it; he’d always asked and she’d continually shot him down. She’d said she wanted to wait for the right person, the right time, when she was ready.

No way, he thought to himself. I can’t be... There’s no way. We’re supposed to hate each other, he thought. But then again, there they were doing everything short of shagging on the floor of the transfiguration classroom.

“What?” To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

“You heard me, Malfoy,” she said, giving his trousers an eager tug toward her.

“Are you sure?” he asked her. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” she said in a rather breathy voice as she ran her foot up the inside of his leg.

“Alright,” he agreed cautiously as they fell into an awkward silence that seemed to drag on for what felt like an eternity, drinking in each other’s gaze. Finalit wit was too much for him, and he leaned down to capture her lips with his. This kiss was anything but chaste; bi, ni, nipping, sucking her bottom lip. She groaned into his mouth, making him dig even harder in between her thighs, his hardness grinding into her through his trousers.

He broke away, regaining control over his body as he continued to rub himself against her slowly, against all better judgement. It just felt too damned good. He almost jumped when he felt the coolness of the air bite his skin where she began placing kisses all over his neck, licking here, biting there.

“‘Mione,” he half groaned, prying her attention from the smooth column of his neck, “if you don’t like what I do or you change your mind, just say so and I’ll stop.” Merlin, he hoped he sounded more convincing than he was feeling. If she did ask him to stop, he knew she’d likely have to use force or curse him as he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop himse


“I won’t stop you,” she stated. “Now quit delaying. I know what you want to do,” she whispered. “Do it,” she finished, pulling him down to her, crushing her lips to his. Draco opened his mouth against hers, coaxing her to open her mouth to him by running his hot, wet tongue across her bottom lip. She gasped at the sudden feeling of his tongue on her lip in conjunctionh onh one sneaky hand sliding up her back inside of her shirt.

Seizing the opportunity, Draco thrust his tongue into her mouth, caressing hers with his own. She complied completely, returning his actions as her hands went to his waist to free his shirt from his trousers. A bit nervously, she undid each button, traveling upward. She broke away from his lips and ran her hands over the smooth, pale skin of his torso. Slowly, he sat back and pulled his shirt off, letting her look at him in all of his glory as she sat up, leaning back with her hands on the floor to support herself. His eyes were dark with lust and passion when she chanced a glance up at his face.

She was quite the erotic sight sitting before him. Her hair was mussed up and she was flushed, breathing a bit laboredly, too. She had both legs bent at the knees, her skirt riding up almost to her waist presenting him with quite a lovely view as he was situated, leaning back onto his knees, in between them. Unconsciously, she darted her tongue out and ran it across her lips. Draco spurred himself into action and leaned forward to capture her lips again, forcing her back down all. ll.

Her slender fingers found their way into his silken tresses again as his found their way to her knickers, deftly removing them and sliding her skirt up all the way to her waist, not having the patience to rid her of it. an an act of sudden boldness on her part, Draco felt Hermione’s clumsy fingers fumbling with the clasp on his trousers. He nearly laughed to himself at the inexperienced actions of the Gryffindor. He was used to the well-practiced hands of girls like P Par Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. Not some virginal prude that didn’t have a clue. In a way, though, her lack of knowledge kind of turned him on.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt the sudden pressure of a small hand squeezing him through his boxe He He shuddered almost uncontrollably when she gave him a second squeeze. Maybe snew new a little something after all.

“Granger,” he growled in a nearly feral voice, reaching down to hold her hand away from him, “don’t.”

“Why?” she asked him, looking innocent enough.

“Trust me,” Draco answered, releasing her from his grasp.

Nodding in agreement, Hermione’s hands went back to the waist of his trousers and pulled them down as far as she could as he kissed her again, hips cps colliding with hers with a bruising force. After some maneuvering, Draco found his trousers had traveled all the way down to his ankles and his boxers were in very near danger of going the same way. He stopped her hands and pulled them above her head, entwining him fingers in her own, her tongue massaging against his as he kissed her again. She quivered and clamped her thighs against his hips as she felt him through the suddenly all too thin material of his boxers.

It wasn’t that she was scared, because she was. And it wasn’t because she was nervous; that she was, too. But she’d heard stories from her dorm mates about boys and their... respective body parts. From what she knew from their many encounters before, Draco was well endowed, or as Parvati would have put it, a big boy.

Draco sensed her trepidation and released her hands. He stroked her cheek with one hand as he stopping kissing her, his other hand slipped inside of her shirt aga


“You still sure?” he asked.e noe nodded after a short thought or two. He bent down and placed soft, small kisses along her neck and jawline.

“Please, Draco,” her small voice interrupted him from continuing his actions. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Relax,” he coaxed, giving her the smallest of smiles and kissing hentlently. “I’ll go slow.”

A few kisses and several touches later found his boxers discarded along with his trousers. Her arms were around his neckldinlding herself to him as if he were a life preserver as she gazed up into his silvery eyes. He supported his weight against the force of her pulling downward on him and found it in himself to whisper “I’m sorry,” to her right before pushing his way in. She took a sharp intake of air and gave a tiny whimper as she clutched him even tighter than before.

“You alright?” he asked in a deeper voice than what she had expected.

He felt her nod against his shoulder, her fingernails beginning to dig in. Slowly, as controlled as he could manage, he shifted backward, drawing out of her, and then pushed back in only a bit faster. In an almost painfully slow pace, he continued this movement until he felt her relax a bit and lean back onto the robes they had situated earlier on.

“I’m alright, Draco,” she said to him in a quiet voice, and then whispered, “let go.”

So he did. He picked up the pace of his movements, beginning to drive in and out rather than gently push. He felt all ten of her fingernails digging painfully into his back as he continued to burry himself into her over and over. He felt her tighten around him and squeeze her legs tightly around him as a tiny whimper escaped her throat.

“Relax,” he told her again, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead.

“I can’t,” she said in a strained voice.

“Just let it happen,” he forced out in somewhat guttural tones. “I promise it’ll be good.”

She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shs hes he felt her entire body seize up underneath him.

“Oh, Merlin, Draco,” she moaned out in a fit of ecstasy. The feeling of her orgasming against him drove him over the edge, too. Draco gave an animalistic grunt and pushed himself off of her, rolling over to her side.

Breathing hard and still a bit dazed, Hermione turned her back to him and he flung his cloak over their bodies. Draco wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her back against himself and slid the other under her head for her to lay on. Her delicate hands went to the forearm of his left arm– the one she was laying on– and began to trace over the pattern of the Dark Mark with soft, butterfly-like touches as they lay there for the very few tender moments they’d be able to steal from the night.

“Did it hurt?” she asked.

He was a bit surprised at this. Somew alo along the line it had become a silent agreement that they wouldn’t discuss the Dark Lord or Draco’s involvement with him even though he’d noticed her fascination with tracing his Dark Mark with her fingers, never really touching it but not quite being able to resist. He leaned his chin into her shoulder as he watched her run her index finger over the black marking and thought of how to answer her.

“Yes,” he finally said, laying a tender kiss on her shoulder as he continued watching her.

“How...?” she trailed off, not knowing whether she really wanted to know or not.

“It’s a spell similar to Mosmorde,” he ied.ied. “Only, instead of creating a shadow of it in the sky, it burns it into the flesh.”

“Burns?” she asked, wincing at it. She looked closer at the Dark Mark on his arm. It looked more like a tattoo, inked into the skin, than a burn.

“Yes,” he stated. “It’s an icy, cold sensation tharns rns through the skin and body. It leavemarkmark like this. Not a burn, like charred skin.”

“Why?” He knew that question was the one she’d ask next.

“Ask me again if you really want to know the answer,” he said bluntly. This was not something he particularly wanted to tell her and he desperately hoped she’d change the subject.

“What did you have to do at your initiation?” she continued to pry after some thought.

“You don’t want to know,” Draco answered.

“But what if I do?” she asked, turning her head to face him.

He exhaled hard. “You won’t like it.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“What do you want to know?” he knew he shouldn’t let her ask. She was definitely not going to like anything she heard.

“Did you have to force yourself on anyone?” she asked, her voice timid as she turned in his hold to face him.

“No,” Draco’s eyes lacked no conviction.

“Torture?” her voice raised a bit.

He pulled one of her hands to his chest and held it there. “Yes.”

She tensed in his arms at his confession, as if she’d expected something else.

“What– what curses did you use?”

“Some pretty nasty ones,” he told her. “Some you’ve heard of, read about. Others, the nastier ones...”

Hermione nodded, understanding what he was trying to communicate. There was a bit of a lengthy pause before she spoke again.

“Did killkill anyone?”

Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to see this particular reaction.

“Yes.”

“How– how many?” her voice was significantly higher than normal and she was shaking slighin hin his hold. She had damned good reason to be, too. Here she was, a Muggle-born, lying in the arms of a pure-blooded Death Eater and murderer. Yet for some reason unbeknownst to her, she didn’t feel him as a threat.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked her, opening his silvery-grey eyes to stare into her wide brown eyes.

“Yeshe bhe breathed her answer out, starting to shake.

“Three Muggles and a wizard,” he stated calmly and then added, “at my initiation.”

“At your initiation?” she gasped. “You’ve... you’ve killed more?”

He simply nodded this time, afraid of what his voice might do.

“How– how many ... total?” She waited, holding her breath, for him to answer, knowing that it wouldn’t be the least bit pleasant.

“I’ve tortured at least thirty and killed nearly half,” his voice was t but but honest, almost as if he held absolutely no remorse for torturing and killing so many. He knew this would come as a shock for her.

Scratch murderer; replace with serial killer.

“Why?”

“I can’t answer that,” he replied. “You know it.”

“Would you kill me?” she asked in a somewhat pleading voice.

“No,” answered Draco honestly. Even if he was ordered to, he knew he couldn’t kill her. He just couldn’t.

“If I– if I asked you–”

“You know I couldn’t, Hermione,” he stopped her midsentence, already knowing what she was going to say. “They’d kill me for disobedience.” She nodded, sadness misting over her eyes. “If I asked you to come with me– be with me– would you?” he asked, bringing each of her fingertips on one hand to his lips.

“You mean join you? Change sides?” she asked in a shocked voice.

“Yes,” he breathed out, kissing her palm and then the pulse at her wrist.

“I don’t know, Draco,” she answered, wanting desperately to say yes to him, to give into him and what he was offering.

“Come with me,” he said, rolling her onto her back and pinning her under himself.

“Draco, I–”

She stopped when she felt his lips close over her neck and his tongue swirl over the flesh enclosed in his lips.

“I’m asking you,” Draco whispered into her ear. “Come with me. Be by my side. I swear no harm will befall you as long as you are with me.”

“What about Ron and Harry?” she asked, brushing a few stray tendrils out of his eyes.

“I can’t protect everyone, love,” he answered. “Only you,” he said as he bent down and kissed her. “Say you’ll come with me.”

Hesitantly, Hermione reached her hands up to caress his face, feel his soft, pale skin underneath her fingertips. She knew she was condemning her friends and sealing her own fate with four simple words, but she couldn’t help herself. The allure of the promise in his eyes, his touch, his kiss, was just too much. They spoke of forever, not just until she was no longer of any use.

“I’ll come with you.”
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AN: I hopu liu liked that. There will most definitely be more from me later. Also, be a good reader and do your duty! REVIEW! Please. Flames are welcome. I will use them to roast my marshmallows to make \'Smores and warm my tootsies(feet)! Constructive criticism is ALWAYS welcome, as is mindless praise and worshipping. J/k. Quit reading my psychobabble rev review! ^_^