Sweeter the taste

Title: Sweeter the Taste
Author: Polar Thestral/Belinda
Summary: Asserting power through sex is always fun, but revenge makes it all the sweeter.
Ships: Draco/Hermione, Blaise/Draco, Blaise/Hermione and a pinch of Voldemort.
A/N: I apologize, lol. I really wanted to write this story ever since there was a conversation on the Quiet Ones about injecting Voldemort into the Blaise/Draco/Hermione triangle. I was sitting in my History of Sexualities lecture the other day when this idea came to me and I just had to write it. While it’s not my first smut piece it is my first Potter-smut piece, and I felt a little weird about it, but hopefully you guys like it. Inspiration comes from everywhere…so let’s just acknowledge Stanley Kubrick’s ‘Eyes Wide Shut’, Monica Azzolini for great lectures and J.K Rowling for creating the vengeful character of Draco Malfoy.

**

He could see down twenty floors from his position. It wasn’t enough. The Tower of Antiquity is what the Dark Lord called it. It was hard to stand inside its walls and not know exactly what your place was in his scheme of things. You had to be here, to have a place in society; you had to have no shame in order to elevate yourself. And the Dark Lord found it amusing to watch the debaucheries of once noble men, quitquite eager to lower themselves just to please him.

Unfortunately the silver haired man was still a little restrained when it came to whoring his body. It was quite a good body, and he strangely preferred it free of venereal diseases. Draco Malfoy stood in the centre of the circular glass floor of level twenty one. The central Antiquity Tower of London, and Voldemort’s very own residence (or so it was suspected). He could see, down, down, down past every floor to the blurry figures moving at the very bottom.

Vertigo threatened to make him look up and scuttle to the side but he didn’t want to show another weakness. He could see all of the people moving beneath him, and beneath [i]them[/i], getting smaller and smaller and smaller. More inconsequential with every level down. He didn’t want to look up. So he gritted his teeth through the nausea which comes from being so far above everyone else.

There was one other glass ceiling, glass floor. Above him. And someone up there was looking down on him as well. The Dark Lord found peculiar joy in letting his followers blatantly see their place in this new world. You could do anything you wanted in this den of pleasure, so long as you don’t fuck around with the person above you. They were perfectly welcome to fuck whomever they chose (willingness didn’t even come into it, nor pleasure really); he was a ‘boy’ to any who were patronising enough to stroll downstairs and put him in his place.

“No hard feelings, right Draco?”

Not Malfoy any more.

Draco.

He lifted his head, not high enough to see the glass above, but high enough to lock eyes with his visitor. A man who had come downstairs just to flash Draco his newly acquired smug grin. Draco glared him straight into his devilish brown eyes.

“I see you still don’t know your place.” This was the man who just yesterday had been a boy, whining about Draco’s own father putting his ass to good use. The man who had turned Draco himself into a boy, just to say he’d bested a Malfoy. An old friend. An enemy. A better. And no difference between any of the terms. Blaise Zabini, how Draco truly loathed him at that moment. The scars on his back still prickled uncomfortably under his robes; he hadn’t been allowed to apply a healing salve. Bastard. Draco lowered his eyes and watched Crabbe and Goyle raping some unseen figure two floors down. His lip curled. Goyle really did have a hairy back.

“How may I be of service?” Draco spoke softly still staring through the ground, through skin and bone, to that dark place where he kept his best malice.

“Don’t be like that, Draco. Why, not two days ago you were telling me that I should look elsewhere for pleasures and power, instead of settling for one screw and the lowest rank. I thought you’d be proud of me.”

“Indubitably.” He gritted. Turning on his heel, he bumped through the crowd of wizards toward the table filled with glasses of pumpkin juice. He wondered what they were drinking upstairs, but stopped himself from looking in the goblet Zabini was holding nonchalantly in his hand.

“Don’t turn your back on me, my boy,” Blaise laughed, “you know what happened yesterday. It’s awfully insolent of you.”

A million curses raced through Draco’s mind. His wand was in his pocket, he was quicker on the draw. He could turn around and rip Zabini’s skin from his body. He’d done that to someone on one of his dark raids. Messy but satisfying. He imagined the man screaming and writhing…he sipped his pumpkin juice and smiled pleasantly.

“Power has gone right to your head.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Malfoy.”

Malfoy. Not Draco. Draco hid his smirk by taking another sip of pumpkin juice. Blaise was obviously finding his new place in the scheme of things a hard one to maintain in the face of his old squad leader.

“There’s always someone above you.” Draco drawled.

“I hope you haven’t spent all day looking up my robes.” Zabini quipped and snatched the goblet out of Draco’s hand. “If you were looking elsewhere you would have seen that there is nothing but sky above my head.”

“And God of course.” Draco said sarcastically. Perhaps Zabini didn’t know that Voldemort wouldn’t lower himself to touch anyone outside the upper-most circle of Antiquity Tower. That’s why his greatest enemy was chained to the wall up there, the new regime had been put in place with Potter screaming in the centre of a Dark revel. Circles. A victory ceiled with a most vile rape. Draco was dizzy just thinking about it.

“Next time a deity stops around for a good shag I’ll tell you how it went.” Zabini chuckled, swiping a finger across Draco’s jaw line. The paler boy prevented the stiffening of his limbs, but not the hostility of his eyes. A caress like that two days ago might have been welcome. Not now.

“Does this mean the Dark Lord has replaced your prize with another one?” Draco spoke as clearly as he could.

Zabini stiffened, then glared at him.

“He prizes [i]me[/i], Draco. He took nothing from me. He merely saw fit to elevate the best man for the job. Lestrange wore out his usefulness a long time ago.” Blaise’s dark eyes glittered as he threw his head back and laughed. “He had the gall to refuse Voldemort access to his wife.” He shook his head for a moment, chuckling.

The laugh died when Draco raised his eyes to stare at his friend’s face blankly. Blaise stepped toward him placing the gold goblet down on the table with a sharp clink. Draco’s eyes dropped, feinting submissiveness. It smelled like port, looked like it. Draco wanted to taste it, but held himself back. Blaise’s hand touched Draco’s cheek, swiping the hair that dangled down away from his eyes. “I’ve never seen a body torn apart so fast.” He whispered like it was an endearment.

Draco looked up, saw something over Blaise’s shoulder and smiled.

“You wouldn’t touch me twice in two days. Won’t your lover be upset with you?” Draco asked with mock concern. Blaise stiffened.

“She knows that I—”

But Blaise didn’t finish, for Draco had bent down on one knee and lowered his face. Blaise fumed for a moment at being ignored, then turned around gracefully to bow at his Lord.

“Just the Death Eater I’ve been searching for.” Voldemort’s eyes gleamed red as they swept crisply up Blaise’s form and down again.

Draco stared through the floor and met a pair of familiar blue eyes. His expression didn’t change but she smiled, waving slightly, her dark hair tumbled and swayed around her shoulders. And he was tempted to take what Pansy was offering. Get his pride back by ing ing her onto her stomach and doing the same thing that Blaise had done to him so mercilessly.

**

[i] “Who’s on top now, hey Draco? How does it feel?”

Like being torn in two. But Draco had gripped the duvet beneath him and gritted out, “Oh…have you started? I didn’t notice.”
[
*
**

“—yay say stand, Master Malfoy.”

Draco looked up in time to see Blaise ascending the stairs, looking nervously at the Dark Lord over his shoulder. Draco suppressed his grin. He wished he could see the Dark Lord’s chambers tonight, he wished he could hear that bastard screaming for mercy. No one above him but the sky? Looks like one of those pretty fluffy clouds was going to give him a right fucking.

“You disappoint me Master Malfoy.”

Draco blushed, hopefully his Lord hadn’t been spying on his thoughts because they wouldn’t be appreciated.

“All this time, boasting of your part in bringing Potter to me but you have done nothing since.”

Draco didn’t bother to tell him he’d been in charge of rounding up most of the missing Order members once Voldemort had taken down the ministry. But really, why mince words with a despot?

“You haven’t done your part in preserving...order…where it is much needed.” As the Dark Lord swept his eyes about the room, Draco noticed that many of his fellow Death Eaters were drawing back, turning ach ach other to hide their fear in sordid kisses, or running downstairs with a sudden urge to dominate.

“I apologize, my Lord.” Draco lied.

“Come, come my boy…I know you far too well to believe such insincerity.” The most frightening part of this was the easiness of the Dark Lord’s tone. No ferocity. But playfulness, wickedness. Draco was frightened. “Are you happy for your ally from that quest? Mr. Zabini has proved…most deserving.”

**

[i]“Blaise…” Her voice choked, as his arm wrapped around her waist pulling her into the lines of his own.

“She’s mine.” He spoke. Draco looked at him with disgust, looked at her with hate. The wand pointed at her face didn’t quaver, nor lower.

“Blaise?” Like sandpaper. Hadn’t she figured it out yet? Amazing how the delusional could still guzzle at sand even when the mirage of water was fading. Draco opened his mouth to tell the bitch to shut up, when another voice laughed.

“Calm yourself Draco, Mr Zabini can have his fun. For now.” Lord Voldemort had found entertainment elsewhere. His movement pulled Hermione’s eyes to the struggling and screaming figure on the ground.

“H-Harry….” She tried to pull away but Blaise held her close, whispering soothing words that made her face distort, tears run down her cheeks. How could he tell her he loved her and let her watch….And Potter…poor, poor…Potter. It really must have stung quite frightfully. [/i]

**

“He’s besotted with a mudblood.” Draco sneered.

“You don’t think it right he should be promoted above you?”

**
[i]
“AHHHHHHH!” Harry was screaming and screaming – he probably should have stayed unconscious. Draco watched the scene impassively, almost boredly. Picking out some of the dirt left under his nails from the fight. He was ashamed to admit that they’d come close to getting away, three pathetic teenagers, against thirty or so trained death eaters. Decadence was obviously making them quite lackadaisical.

“Stop it!” she was screaming, stamping her foot and slapping at his comforting arms. Ungrateful bitch. That could be her down there. Even at her most helpless she still thought her opinion mattered. A mistaken impression he hoped Blaise would quickly rectify. “Stop it! Stop it! You’re hurting him.” It was hard for Draco to hold back the urge to mock her. That was kind of the idea, Granger.
[/i]
**

“Perhaps I did it to see how you would react.” The Dark Lord’s whisper was dark and inviting. Draco snapped out of introspection to stare at his Lord’s slitted nose, he couldn’t quite meet those crimson eyes without blanching.

“My Lord?”

“You are lazy and ungrateful. You do nothing to show the world your position and do not revel in the power I have given you. You are lucky I have not sunk you to the bowels of this hovel like a broken whore. Your father has pleaded your case; powerful wizard he says, but awfully squeamish when it comes to matters of the flesh. Is that true?”

**

[i]“Ah…mmm…” She purred, arching against the man above her, biting down on her lips, flushed cheeks glowing. Her purr turned into a growl when he bit down on her lower lip. Draco covered his snigger with a trembling hand. Purring and growling, she truly was a lioness.

“Blaise…” She sighed, and his lips silenced her, arms quickly readjusting her body beneath him. Those arms were wrapped possessively around her hips and they were suddenly so close together. Their breath syncopated, her hands scratching down his back like a wanton.

He watched them through the magic mirror in his room next door. He saw the flash of green light reflect against Blaise’s back as he arched his hips forward into her.

He knew what it was, heard the tell-tale crackle of the fire behind him. The voice that spoke was even more distinctive.

“How is Blaise doing with the mission you gave him?” Lucius Malfoy asked, his voice turned up a little with amusement. Must have seen the reflection.

“Splendidly.” Draco muttered.

Her voice screamed out, bringing his attention back to the mirror. That’s what ecstacy sounds like. Stupid bitch.
[/i]

**

“I know what it is you want, and I have to say the thought amuses and intrigues.”

Draco’s heart was pounding fast with fear and adrenaline. But mostly excitement. He knew the Dark Lord liked to cause confusion and animosity amongst his ranks, if they turned against each other they could be no threat to him. Draco had no loyalty left for Blaise, he was a slytherin, but as arrogant as a Gryffindor when it came to family pride. Zabini had had the gall to try and break that apart. His deepest desire was to visit back on his friend a vengeance that would far outweigh the betrayal Blaise had committed against him.

What was this offer that was trembling in anticipation upon his Master’s lips?

“I understand you now, Master Malfoy. No petty displays, you want to be truly vicious. You don’t see the point in putting those beneath you in a place they have already filled.” The Dark Lord stepped forward, circled Draco for a moment and the young Malfoy’s skin turned cold. “I do not agree with you, but your…arrogance…your desire to put down your equals.” The Dark Lord’s face twitched for a moment. “I understand. How could I not…indulge your desires, I never gave you your reward for bringing Potter to me.”

Draco’s head snapped up.

“You think I don’t know he was tempted?”

**
[i]
Draco’s eyes flared, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe Blaise would be fool enough to actually confide in him about it. He grabbed the front of Blaise’s robes and slammed him into the wall.

“Did she slip you a love potion or just hide it up her cunt?”

“Stop it. I told you because—”

“I know why you told me, you’re clearly cracked.” He pushed Blaise harder into the wall with pure revulsion.

“You don’t understand. She loves me. I’ve never felt this way before. I can’t lose her, Draco.” Blaise whispered, and his eyes had that stupid glazed look that children sometimes get when the newest toy broomstick comes out. Zoom, zoom and a squeal of delight. How pathetic. Draco was panicking but he performed his best incredulous laugh. Releasing Blaise from his tight hold, he condescendingly patted his cheek.

“You’re so adorably obtuse. Did this great love she bears you come before or after you told her about the Weaslette?”

Blaise’s face turned ashen. “Th-that was an accident.”

“She doesn’t love you. She doesn’t know you, what you’re capable of, what you’ve been all too willing to do for our cause. Though I do suppose she will have some indication of who you are when she finds out where all of your romantic inclinations really came from. But no matter. Who knows? Maybe she’ll understand, doves will coo and you’ll frolic happily ever after with butterflies….but she certainly sobbed brokenly in your arms about what thosebad, nasty death eaters did when that little chit’s body was found…didn’t she?”

Blaise shoved at Draco’s shoulder, trying to move his taunting friend away, Draco pushed back. They both went for their wands at the same time, Draco was fastest, and the ebony length of his wand was quickly pressed fiercely up under Blaise’s jaw. His friend gasped and dropped the grip on his wand. His chocolate-dark eyes quivered backward and forward with trepidation.

“You underestimated me. If you betray me for a mudblood, I will not smile pleasantly and let you go. I will kill the both of you, but I’ll make sure you get to watch everything I do to her first. You cross me and I’m sure I’ll be at my most inventive.”
[/i]

**

“I assumed—” Draco started.

“It is not your job to assume.” The Dark Lord hissed. “He stays loyal because of the gift I gave him. I don’t reward my Death Eaters unless there is something in their pleasure that keeps them more closely bound to me.”

“And what would my…pleasure…give you?”

Voldemort’s lipless mouth twitched with amusement. “I enjoy a little pain in my consorts. Tears are quite gratifying, are they not?” Voldemort raised his hand to reveal an old fashioned key. Draco recognised it, had been taunted with it, had even thought of stealing it occasionally (which must be how Voldemort concocted this plan – by reading his mind). The Dark Lord scraped the cool tip against Draco’s cheek, then titled the boys face up with it. “You give him a nice show.”

Then the key was placed into his hands, and Voldemort had apparated away with a pop. The key was trembling, the four charms that kept her locked out of sight and out of mind, hummed against his skin. His fingers closed around it, brought it close to his chest, the black heart confined within his ribs trembled with the joy of it all.

**

“Hello, [i]Her-mi-one[/i].”

He watched with amusement as she stiffened. Not the voice she was expecting.

Reading. He should have known he’d find her in this position: curled on to her side, hand against her cheek and bushy hair, elbow on the ground, curled up and reading some stupid book that was useless to her now. He was disgusted that Blaise was big enough a sap to actually get her the book.

She closed it slowly, her dark eyes arrowed in on his face. Still so angry, most of the other women on her level were far beyond carig what the Death Eaters did to them. But Blaise didn’t want to break her. He wanted her to love him again.

Sap.

“Hello, Draco.” There was something in her eyes, something calculating. Draco liked it. He closed the door behind him and leant back against it. He tucked one leg beneath the other and slumped against the heavy wood behind him, just watching her stare at him.

“You don’t seem particularly upset at my appearance.”

“I expected you.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, her reaction was to stand and meet his eyes.

“I’m not an idiot. I know you don’t want me, but I also know that I represent more than any other person in this building. I’m Harry’s best friend and a muggleborn—”

“Mudblood. No point in being politically correct when we’re amongst [i]friends[/i].”

“How do you want it? Should I just spread my legs and grunt on command?”

“Vulgar. But considering my last request, I’ll let it pass.”

She raised her eyebrow, hands on her hips, fingers thrumming an impatient beat against the bared skin of her waist. She was wearing just a light brown skirt and the same coloured top. Muggle clothing. Blaise obviously preferred her to bare it all. No sense wasting time stripping his exclusive property every time he trotted down here. A [i]horny[/i] sap.

Draco looked at the mirror along her wall. His eyes automatically began to shine with eagerness, his blood running hotly beneath his cool skin. Yes, she did symbolise so much.

“I suppose you haven’t heard the good news yet.”

“Someone shoved a pineapple up your father’s ass?”

“No. But I’ll tell him you recommended the idea. He is, after all, always ready to try new things.” Draco took a step forward, she didn’t retreat, and he was pleased to see her lips struggling to restrain her amusement. “Your beloved has risen in the Dark Lord’s estimation.”

“He is not my beloved!” She hissed, hands clenching against her sides. Draco noted the gesture with a grin of pleasure. This would be easy.

“He says you’re still panting for it, still clawing at his back like a lioness in heat.” His eyes perused her, hooded and lustful. Her face flushed, he knew his act of voyeurism would help him out one day. “You couldn’t have loved those golden boys of yours too much. Well…at least Ron never had to see you whore yourself, Harry on the other hand…” He let the sentence trail off with a breathy laugh.

She made a sudden movement as if she would have launched herself at him and ripped his head off. Her hand twitched by her waist, where her wand used to be stashed. and and long ago snapped in two. She stopped herself, shifted and raised her chin, the only sign of defiance she assumed he would let pass. He could very well have her killed for the gesture, but that wasn’t why he was here.

“I never said I [i]believed[/i] him.” He continued and walked closer to her. “While there [i]is[/i] some passion in hate, trust me I know,” his eyes flicked over the deepening rouge on her cheeks, “there are limits. To betray someone you love…how could you want him after that?” He asked the question innocently, reassuringly, he was on [i]her[/i] side like the good, upstanding, moralistic murderer that he was. He reached out slowly and took her elbow in an elegantly gloved hand. She stiffened but let him lead her closer to the mirror.

“No need to shudder. I will have you Granger, I’ll have you spreading your legs for me as you so quaintly put it.” She was glaring at him as he stroked her face, leather felt so rough against skin so fair. “I’m letting you decide how I do it.” Draco looked at the mirror for a moment, she followed his gaze in confusion.

Her confusion turned to alarm when Draco stepped intimately close, mere inches were between them, inches filled with the scent of his aftershave, his hand was curled around her nape, pulling her face beside his. Cheek to cheek. He massaged her head where his hand rested, playing with skin and hair. She stared at her own reflection when he began to whisper.

“You were his exclusive property, but he’s being taught [i]his[/i] place tonight. And the Dark Lord has given me the honour of partaking in his game.”

She went to pull away but Draco clenched his hand warningly at the back of her neck, his other arm wound around her waist, trapping her completely against his chest. His lips nibbled on her earlobe, tongue tasting the sweat that was gathering there. His words were coaxing, his hands alluring – she had to desire the same thing, she [i]had[/i] to.

“I have a particular urge to break his heart.” He moved his face lower to trail teeth and tongue up the side of her neck. One of her hands shot up to clutch at the elbow of the arm holding her head in place. She gasped out a shaken breath. “I thought you might…” he moved back and deliberately let her watch him slowly remove one leather glove, “[i]share[/i] that desire.” His hand was so pale when he reached his hand up to shift one of her curls back behind her ear. Just the type of hands she expected a rich bastard like him to have. “Just like a woman…The best way to break a man, is so to go for his heart.” Draco removed the other glove and let them both drop with a clear snap to the ground. Both hands move to her face and cupped her cheeks, angling her eyes up to his, so that she could see what he meant. What he was asking her. His fingers moved coaxingly against her skin.

Interest prickled at her temples, intrigue furrowed her brow, and her cinnamon eyes became incredulous when she understood what he was saying. It was probably a good thing that she didn’t know he had given this exact speech (without the seductive undertones) to Blaise three years ago.

“You want me to enjoy it.” She said with disgust visibly apparent on her face, her eyes raked up and down his body as if he had just been shat from the air. He felt the urge to backhand her, but restrained himself. He was Draco Malfoy, and no one looked at him like that. Like [i]he[/i] was beneath [i]her[/i]. The bitch lived on the lowest floor!

“I thought you Gryffindor’s had pride. This is the only way you will ever get any type of revenge.”

“I don’t want revenge, I want freedom.”

“The first part of that sentence was a lie, the second – impossible. Use your brain or has it been glazed over with two much spunk for you to function properly?”

“He’d never believe I want you.”

Draco chuckled patronisingly, cupping her face in two hands. “You wanted him. Oh how you wanted him. Who do you think told him what to say?” She flushed in embarrassment and he grinned. “I expect your lovely boyfriend has been expecting this for some time, why else would he lock you away? You doseriseriously think anyone else wants to touch you Granger?” He said. “tut-tut vanity is a terrible sin. There is no mystery in shagging you, most of upp upper death eaters have already seen you in action.”

Her eyes widened slightly, though she was doing her best to hide the blushing alarm still present in her after all this time.

“Yes, we kept a frequency graph and everything. Made bets on who would come first. Do you want to know who won the pool?”

“You’re disgusting!” She was trembling. He liked it, and pulled her closer, wanting to feel the vibrations of her hate skittering across his body. He pressed her to him, whispering the poisonous words into her ear.

“[i]I[/i] did. I won. Your face has so many tells, and I’d wanted to take you down so long that I had studied them all. I even knew when you were faking it. I know exactly how to get you off. Don’t you want to take advantage of that?” He stroked his hand down her spine, ran his fingers along the small of her back and briefly let them trail down over the globes of her ass. She flinched away from his touch, inadvertently into his groin. She gasped. Yes, he was aroused, how could he not be with her trembling like this in his arms? “I want you too, it might be the most malicious feeling I’ve ever had, but I’ll make you feel so fucking good you’ll never want me to stop.” His lips softly swept her cheek, breathing on the small trail of saliva he left in his wake. He was completely aware that her hips had lifted against his as he’d done that. She was coming around. “Vengeancel mal make it all the sweeter.” The words were husky, spoken against the column of her throat as she arched backwards.

Yes. She felt it. In her blood. A sigh. Yes, [i]yes[/i].

She didn’t speak it, but the breath of heavy air that puffed against his lips was a blatant invitation. He grinned roguishly and captured her mouth with his. She responded automatically, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, hands straight into his hair, and mouth opened beneath his. Warm and wet, he felt his heart jump in response, and his own hands travelled down, swept her slight form up into his arms. He didn’t move her far, just knelt on the ground with her legs around his waist and let her fall slowly backwards. When she hit the ground she arched in a way he had always remembered, grinding the curve of her body into his groin. He smiled at her, yes, perfectly [i]faked[/i], but Blaise had never seemed to notice before, maybe he wouldn’t now either.

He stayed on his knees above her, and the view was great from there. She had submitted, but it was a dark submission, to an idea rather than himself. The thought irked him. She could pretend and convince Blaise that Draco had her writhing, but he’d much prefer it if he could get back at both of them simultaneously – have her screaming for more, have Blaise somewhere high above his head screaming – no, no, no – while Voldemort abused him over and over again. The thought made Drso hso hard he wanted to tear Hermione’s clothes off and show her body no mercy.

No. Restraint. He wanted to stifle every faked cry, until she was trembling because she couldn’t help it, and writhing because of rapture.

His hands made quick work of his outer robes, sliding them slowly off his shoulders. His wand was in his hand when the robes had fallen completely away, and with a single wave all the buttons on his black shirt had come undone. He slowly let his body slide forward, balanced on his hands above her. She was watching him her hands tucked up beneath her breasts, her body limp, passive. He closed the gap so slowly he could feel the shaking strain of his own shoulders when his lips met hers.

He swiped his tongue out quickly to lick a damp stain across her parted mouth, then whispered. “He needs a better view.” His hands grabbed her waist harshly and pulled hard, sliding her body two feet across the floor. Centre stage, he smirked sardonically. His hands squeezed her hips until they shifted uncomfortably, then he relaxed against her, settling onto her thighs. She was breathing more shallowly now, probably regretting this position, regretting her partner with the same passion she was hoping another partner was raging somewhere unseen.

Determinedly she raised her hands to his shoulders and pulled him down to her for a scorching kiss. She closed her eyes and willed her body to fire, her mouth massaged instinctively against his, the thrill of physical pleasure starting a pulse in her lips, her blood and the limbs slowly melting from their stiffened state. He indulged her for a moment, pushing her back into the ground and taking command of the kiss, reflecting her urgency with every stroke of his quick tongue, then his hand touched her neck intimately. Viciously. He pushed her down and pulled his own body back. Hyes yes were dark, his body humming, it had been too long. He should have taken advantage of the position the Dark Lord had been kind enough to give him. All those bodies warm and (mostly) willing – all those bodies he could have used to sate whatever sadistic side had pulled him into Hermione’s arms.

He raised an eyebrow at her and touched her hip. She responded, sliding her legs out from beneath him, they curled to the side, and lifted up to rest on either sif hif his waist. Draco closed his eyes in pleasure as he felt the heat between her legs cradling him against her body. He felt so much closer to her. So much more ready in this position. And she felt so much more submissive, so much more real. Then her right leg turned and lifted slightly to slide her foot against the back of his thigh. She stared into his eyes, cinnamon lights twinkling as she scraped the arch of her foot from his knee down to his ankle and back again. Their limbs intertwined, her thighs squeezed. His whole body shifted in an upward motion against her in response. It was a challenge. His cells were screaming, [i]I accept, I accept[/i], while his mind was still reeling from the glitter of such an invitation.

When her hands moved to embrace his shoulders again, he was faster, gripping her hands he slammed them into the ground on either side of her head and growled. “Stay.”

“Make me.”

His lips silenced hers and he bit down playfully on her tongue, Blaise was shunted to the side, this was the war of two bodies, not three. His hands slid down the inner line of her arms, across her collarbone. He found the deep vee of her shirt and quickly muttered a charm against her sinful mouth. The shirt thinned beneath his hands and he tore it in half. He didn’t see where it landed, he was too busy lowering his face into the valley of her breasts.

She made that humming noise. “Erhmmm” high pitched and reluctant. He grinned swiping out his tongue to taste the sweat settling there. His hands stroked the side of her body, running tenderly along the outer edge of her breast. The centred heat of his mouth, the teasing flicks of his fingers made her body tighten. She felt it. That urge to press outwards: but left or right? She wanted [i]pressure[/i]. Hard friction. Then the teasing rock of his hips commenced and she felt insane. The only part of him that was really touching her with any force was his mouth, and it was in a place that would have been quite satisfied with light petting. She went to move her hands and explore for herself…her punishment was having his hands leave her body completely and snap her wrists back to the ground.

She growled at him in annoyance and was surprised when a roguish grin spread across his face at the sound.

“Grrr yourself.” He said with a chuckle. She flushed. Next time she would have to clamp her lips closed, she didn’t want him to think she wanted him any more than any other warm body offering to slap Blaise’s empty declarations of love back in his face. It was really like sleeping with Belthazar to piss off Satan in her mind. Nothing good would come of this but a feeling of satisfaction, and she wanted him to hurt so badly.

His hands stayed on her wrist a little longer, his eyes darkly warning her that if she moved again he might not be so lenient next time. Then his hands started that ridiculously slow journey across her skin. She hated how that skin prickled, tensing in awareness, because she knew the path he would take—

“Are you afraid I might turn you on if I touch you?” She said boldly. His hands froze at her shoulders and she sighed with relief.

Blue eyes, jagged like ice, glared down at her.

“You should learn your place.”

“You’re on borrowed time, pal, my place is not beneath you.”

“But you’d like it to be…I can smell how aroused you are Granger, it’s quite a potent musk.” He tilted his head sardonically.

“Not aroused, [i]annoyed[/i].”

“Liar.”

“Oh yeah well prove—“ She squeaked, for his hand had quickly moved between her legs, ripped up the egde of her skirt and now his fingers were cupping all the proof he needed. Her mouth froze open in shock halfway through her sentence. A slow smirk spread across his face as he smoothed his fingers over her panty-free mound. Her body jerked. Aside from the fact she could [i]feel[/i] it (and it felt awesome), she could also [i]hear[/i] how wet she was, as he stroked his fingers down and…and in. She bit down on her lip to muffle her moan.

“Are [i]you[/i] afraid to let me know how hot you are for me, Granger? Because it’s a bit late.”

Her own hand trembled, slowly moving from its place on the ground. She kept her eyes locked on his the whole time, jerking and gasping to his delight every time he slowly moved his fingers in and out of her body. Her hand moved to his chest turning down the smooth skin to slide over his pecs and down... Her eyes glinted as his head descended toward hers, hand moving in faster and firmer circles against her clitoris. Then she cupped him through his trousers and Draco groaned over her lips. Their hands rubbed at each other, eyes shadowed, lips tugged at by teeth and swiped at by tongues. She could feel his breath. Taste it. The temptation to kiss her again was too much and he closed the small gap between their mouths and kissed her deeply. No hesitation.

Both of their hands faltered in the rhythm of their strokes, it was an awkward position for sure, but the kiss was spectacular. Something had shifted up a gear, the stakes raised. His penis throbbed and stiffened beneath his trousers, she squeezed gently and then gave up maintaining her concentration, even as his hands went back to caressing her breasts. Hard. He was so forceful about it, not gentle at all. And it hurt. It hurt even more that she kept getting those tiny prickles of pleasure when he squeezed her nipple, and the greatest feeling of disappointment when he drew his hands away for a moment. She felt bruised and pleasured, if it wasn’t for his teeth she was sure she would have fallen right into his mouth they were pressing their faces so close to each other.

Her hands pushed at his shirt and he helped her tear it off him, but didn’t give her time to observe the white expanse of his chest. His mouth was back on hers, his skin was causing all kinds of horrible, pleasurable pangs in her own as skin moved against skin. Her hands slid over the muscles on his back, shifting beneath his taut skin. When she felt a pattern of ridges on his shoulderblades and lower back she paused, moving her mouth away from his. He followed her lips intending to kiss her again, but she stopped him with a hand against his chest.

“You and Blaise were always really close.” She spoke. “And now he’s promoted…” She laughed, it all suddenly made sense, Draco’s sudden desire for revenge. How hilarious. Draco didn’t understand her trail of thought until he felt her fingers tracing the scratch marks all down his back. “Did the big bad Blaise make you his bitch?”

“No, he already had one of those locked in the dungeon.” He snarled.

In retribution she curled her nails into the old wounds. Draco hissed then groaned. His hands gripped her waist and pulled her hips up into him, his own pushed down. He really wanted to fuck her until she didn’t have the ability to speak. Nothing nice ever passed over her lips.

“Ah...,mmm.” She hummed as a thrill of pleasure went up her spine. It felt amazing, like sore muscles being massaged. Draco’s lips returned to the valley between her breasts, his hands traced circles on the soft skin of her stomach. Then he turned his face and blew hot air along the inner curve of her right breast. Hermione’s whole body tautened in expectation. Oh my, he knew. He knew. He had watched her. No, she wouldn’t respond, she tried to hold it back, but the sheer expectation of what she knew he was going to do…yes….she sucked on her lower lip as his tongue swiped gently at the underside of her breast.

It was so tentative that she thought he didn’t know, but he was only teasing. The next moment he returned his mouth in a vicious suction that made her whole body arch up in the direction of his m, he, he bit down on the soft plume of flesh, massaging her other breast with a barely shaking hand. Oh bastard, bastardbastardbastard. He knew her weakness.

“Oh….don’t stop.” She said and hated herself for it. His tongue soothed the bite wound and she almost came to pieces, the feelings dragged through her gut, past her racing heart to settle in her womb. “Dr-Draco…” She shuddered, her hands raising to the back of his head. When he looked up to grin smugly at her, she yanked his head up to hers, taking siege of his mouth. The way his body collapsed against hers, clutching her close, letting her lead made her want to snigger: ‘not so smug now are you…bitch?’

“Enough.” He whispered. “I’m convinced.”

Hmm. So was she.

She was shifting instinctively against the floor, already knowing she was terribly aroused. Her breasts felt heavy, her heart was hammering and her hands were shaky as she helped him undo his fly and kick off his pants. It was hard to concentrate on them until they were off his feet, she could feel his erection against her thigh and she just wanted to clamp her legs shut around him and ride herself to completion. He continued to struggle with the garment until it was free of his feet then he turned back to her quickly and captured her mouth beneath his again. He collapsed against her and she sighed, loving the feel of his sweating skin. That wonderful grinding slide of friction they had between their naked torsos. His hands pushed open her thighs, sliding along that soft inner skin and angling her leg up around his waist.

His hand delved down to the wetness of her vagina again, he inserted one finger, two…then he couldn’t be bothered waiting. She was already swinging her head from side to side, clutching at his shoulders, pleading him with her eyes to get on with it. So he did. He raised himself up and guided himself into her with one sharp push. She cried out, hips automatically clenching at first entrance.

“Yes.” He hissed.

He felt spectacular. It had been too long, or she wouldn’t have felt this good to him. He understood the saps addiction, she was wonderfully warm, her whole body clenched and pushed and writhed. She was an eager slave, every death eaters dream. He closed his eyes to stop himself from exploding. The pleasure was exhilarating, just knowing that people were watching, that this was forbidden on so many levels, that he was taking something that had only belonged to Zabini for so long. And then there was her, her hot mouth suckling at his throat eagerly. He arched his head to the side allowing her more access as she arched a little away from the ground, shifting her own body against his erection. Draco steadied his body with a hand and then shifted his hips fast and hard up against hers. She bit down on his neck and they both moaned. So good. She clutched his shoulders, rising with his thrusts, a breathless smile on her face. He grabbed her elbows with his hands, shifted her arms back to the floor. She frowned at him until he pushed hard with his feet, going deep inside her and hitting just the right spot. She cried out, eyes wide and his fingers intertwined with hers, trapping her hands against the ground.

They climbed together, the rate of Draco’s thrusts increasing each time he slammed his hips into hers. And her moans were getting louder and louder, helpless nerve trembling rushed all over her skin until she was randomly caressing and kissing the man moving above her. Draco’s teeth scraped across her cheek, and then he buried his face in shoulder, breathing in the scent of cinnamon that lingered throughout her hair. His testes were tightening so were her legs around his waist, he knew they were both close. He lifted her, angling his hips so that he was grinding against her clitoris with each stroke. She screamed out, her orgasm raced through her quickly, turned taut muscles lethargic, and spreading a wonderful white wash of euphoria over her senses. He growled at the feel of her nails opening up the wounds of last night and making them her own, the sharp pleasure of that sting had him coming in two more strokes.

He collapsed against her, uncaring of his own body weight. He just wanted to breathe that smell of sex and cinnamon and sweat. It was the smell of victory, really. The happiness reserved for a truly malicious bastard bubbled up inside his chest as he felt palpitations of pleasure all over his body. She shifted her hips, angling them in a not-so-subtle hint to get off her. He was staying right where he was, her body was a perfectly comfortable place to sleep and it felt so good to have her warmth so close.

She bit down on his shoulder and Draco only just managed to hold back his laugh. He shifted on his hands, moving his upper torso away from her. Her breasts rose and fell with her unsteady breathing; her beautifully dark eyes were hooded as she stared up at him, struggling to regain her composure. He tried to convince himself that his breathing was steadier. They stared at each other for a moment then Draco let his head fall of its own accord. She gasped and pulled back a little, a stupidly timid gesture really considering he was still inside her. After a moment she relaxed and raised her head slightly to accept his kiss. Conciliation, his mind whispered. His tongue had other ideas as it slipped past the lips beneath his. Mmm, it was his turn to bite down on the instinct to purr across her mouth. It wasn’t his fault really; revenge really did have the sweetest flavour.


The End