Dangling

Dangling

Hermione knew that she was playing with fire, but it was so pretty and warm and she knew that the burn would be so pleasant.

The halls were dark and quiet as Hermione rounded that night. She was still puzzling the vague implications of Draco’s parting words the other night as she headed down near the Slytherin dungeons to check for students that believed they were exempt from the curfew that ruled the entire castle.

She looked behind her a couple of times, sure that she heard footsteps when there shouldn’t have been any. Perhaps it was Malfoy's hints or just the chill of the hallway, but either way something was causing gooseflesh to ripple over her skin and shivers to roll threateningly down her spine.

She passed the tapestry that guarded the Slytherin dorms and turned left, intending to circle around and head back to the safety of the Gryffindor quarters when she heard a pebble skitter across the floor and felt it hit the heel of her shoe. Her wand at the ready, she licked her lips and was preparing to charm a light when a voice cried out from the darkness.

“Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Silencio! Petrificus totalus!” the voice cried, and she felt herself stiffen as her brain muddled with confused thoughts and her wand clattered noisily to the floor of the dungeon passageway. She tried to identify the voice but was distracted by the floaty feeling in her head and the sudden lightness that flooded her being. She was levitated and moved out of the hall and into an unfamiliar part of the dungeon rooms.

Hermione opened her mouth in a silent cry when a cloth was bound around her head and over her eyes, then a red tinge scattered across her closed lids as she heard the muttered whisper for light. “Ah, Hermione. You look particularly fetching tonight.”

She was pushed backward until stones dug into her shoulder blades and the curves of her buttocks, and then her wrists were secured with cool iron cuffs above her head. “There now. You look perfect. Well, almost perfect. The robes will have to go.”

In all her seventeen years, she had never felt so helpless. An unseen hand reached for her and unzipped the front of her robe, then her tie was stripped from around her neck and her shirt unbuttoned with the great haste. The stupefy spell seemed to be wearing off as she breathed in an unfamiliar scent of maleness and tried to place it in her mind; she knew it was Malfoy, simply from the familiar way he touched her.

Hermione’s mouth opened in a soundless gasp as she felt a callused fingertip run down her body from her throat to her serviceable white cotton underclothes. “Should have known you would wear these type of knickers, eh? Nothing lacy or satiny for our practical Hermione.”

Hermione tried to beg but her throat was closed to all sound; she couldn’t even whimper. Her assailant watched her mouth moving and said, “Well, you want to ask me to stop, but you can’t, can you? Maybe deep inside you don’t want me to stop. After all, Hermione, you haven’t had much experience now, have you?” She couldn’t shake her head because she was still immobilized by the previous spell, but he answered for her. “No, not our perfect golden girl. Beloved by all professors because of her thirst for knowledge. I wonder, what other thirsts dwell deep in that creamy bosom?”

Hermione’s creamy bosom was then cupped in warm hands. Her nipples responded immediately to the light touch, even through the thin fabric of her cotton brassiere, and she was regaled with a low chuckle. “Oh, look how easily you have fallen into my hands. Let’s see them then.”

A wand touched the fabric between her breasts and her bra was ruined, hanging uselessly from her upraised arms. She felt her breasts spring free and heard a muttered comment about her gorgeous rack. She stood stock-still as the same hands lightly brushed over the rosy peaks tipping them and felt the aching need for more as the caresses became more feverish and less controlled.

She cursed her paralysis when she felt lips close over one of her erect nipples. What she wouldn’t give to throw her head back and thrust herself deeper into that warm, willing mouth. The other hand never left off tweaking her neglected nipple, keeping it erect and fully sensitized to the slightest movement of flesh against flesh. A pulsating ache had set up shop in her groin and she was completely powerless to ease it as her breasts were ravaged one after the other until her breathing was short, gasping pants of pent-up desire.

One of those tantalizing fingers hooked in the fabric of her knickers and they followed her bra into ruin, hanging from one thigh like a torn flag. Cool air wafted over her skin, then warm breath as the unknown tormenter dropped to his knees in front of her. She heard the dull thud of cushioning cloth only seconds before her leg was lifted over a shoulder and fingers invaded her most private area.

“My, you are wet, Hermione; seems that you liked that bit of my mouth on you. I wonder how you’ll take this then.” Something wet twirled in her navel as hands touched and memorized her bare skin; then unimaginable pleasure coursed through her as what she barely identified as a tongue twisted between her sodden lips and touched the pearly bud of nerves that dwelled deep inside them.

She wanted to sob. She wanted to scream. She was unable to do either. She stood there, with shaking thighs as she was teased nearly to the point of release, then brought back to the verge of complete insanity. Time and time again her tormenter (savior) taunted her with the vision of her orgasm. When his fingers joined his tongue in the torturous pleasure she wished that she could sink her fingers in his hair and hold him in one place.

When her arousal was staining her thighs and she was trembling uncontrollably, as her mouth o’ed around a silent plea for release, she felt him climb to his feet once again. “You seem to require yet more attention, Hermione. Perhaps now is the time then.” He left his query hanging between them as she heard a zipper being undone. No, her mind screamed—not that! Oh please, another way but not…

She felt the heat of him long before he touched her. His breath tickled her mouth with unspoken promise until he finally allowed his lips to brush against hers.

“You should know, I’ve wanted to do this since our encounter the other night,” he whispered against her lips, and then his tongue was in her mouth. He pulled away slightly and realized his error, whispering a harsh, “Finite,” against her throat. He kissed her again and she kissed him back, massaging his invading tongue with her own as he held her in place with chains and his own body. She could feel the length of him pressed between them against her stomach and marveled at the feel of it. She wished that she could see it, but her luck was already pressing the limits.

He hooked her knee over his elbow and she realized that he was going to take her right there against the wall. Reaching above the cuffs, she grabbed the chains with both fists to give herself extra balance as he positioned himself at her entrance. He murmured sweet words against the soft skin of her breast and he thrust himself into her to the hilt.

The pain was excruciating and immediate. She wanted to scream but the spell was still upon her so she caught her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down until she tasted blood in her mouth. His lips were on her throat and trailing to the soft spot under her ear. “I’m sorry, pet—I didn’t know. Is it easing up a bit?”

Hermione nodded slowly and he reached down to hook her other knee with his arm. “Well then,” he said cryptically before moving his hips slowly against her.

She was amazed at how so much pain could melt and merge into so much pleasure. The fire that had started in her groin seemed to redouble on itself as he moved in small circles, allowing her time to accustom herself to his size. He was larger than she’d expected and she felt inexplicably full but not uncomfortably so. In fact, the sensation was driving her quite out of her mind with need, truth be told. Although completely and effectively immobilized by her position, hanging from her wrists in chains and from his elbows by the knees, she was able to press her heels against his arse and urge him deeper inside her. She heard his exclamation of surprise at her bold action but he obliged her, pulling out almost all the way before easing into her with an excruciating slowness that was driving her up the wall, literally.

His movements became rougher after a time, his thrusts more erratic as she strained to reach the promise of pleasure that she had seen within her reach a short time before. She felt like one raw nerve ending, exposed to the elements as his pubic bone scraped against her delicate flesh and rubbed her deliciously closer to her heightened passion. Her breasts were smashed against the silky cloth of his shirt as he leaned in to capture her lips once again, their tongues warring for dominance as they climbed higher toward completion. His hands were braced on either side of her against the wall; she could feel his arms at her sides as they rocked against one another with abandon.

She realized that sometime during their joining he had begun to speak to her in low tones, whispers of passion against her skin, and she listened closely to see if she could ascertain his identity. “Hermione, so close…never thought it could feel this good…so tight, so hot, like wet velvet around me…”

His breath was coming in short gasps as he came closer and closer to losing control, his head resting on her soft breast as he moved deeper and harder into the core of her. “Hermione, I can’t hold on much longer,” he groaned and she shook her head to tell him that he didn’t have to only seconds before her entire body clenched in a spasm of delighted mindless pleasure. She shuddered against the cold stone as he began pounding into her without thought or reason, then joined her. She could feel the heat of his juices as they jetted deep inside her and mingled with her own, pouring out of her as quickly as they went in.

He buried himself inside her to the hilt, reveling in the throbbing of her around him as she hung from the wall, limp and spent. “God, Hermione,” he whispered, regret tingeing his voice with sadness. “I wish…” She felt his forehead pressed against her own, his cheek to hers, and was surprised to feel the cool trail of tears as they trickled down his cheek to wet her jaw.

She could almost feel his remorse as he released her legs to allow her to stand on rubbery knees. She strained to hear his clothes as he rearranged them, then his footsteps as he walked away a safe distance.

Draco pointed his wand at her and muttered, “Finite Incantatum,” then mumbled an unlocking spell at the manacles. As they released her she collapsed, almost hitting the ground before he rushed to lend her support, grabbing her around the waist. Her hand came up to drag the blindfold from her eyes and she looked up at him, her mouth open but nothing coming out.

“I didn’t know,” he said, his eyes avoiding hers. “I didn’t know, I just figured…”

“I’m not a slag, Draco,” she said flatly, rubbing her wrists. His arm still supported her and she looked up at him, willing him to look at her until he complied. She saw the self-recrimination in his eyes and knew that nothing she said could make him feel any worse than he was already.

“I told you not to wander the dungeons alone.”

Hermione looked up at him and flashed him a look of annoyance. “I can’t skive off my duties simply on your word, Malfoy. If I’m assigned to patrol the dungeons, I do it. Simple as that.”

He let her go and she fell gracelessly to the floor, her legs still unwilling to support her. “What if it hadn’t been me? What if it was one of my more unsavory housemates? Or worse, a group of my housemates? What would you have done then?” he said, pacing furiously as he raked his fingers through his hair.

“I couldn’t have done anything. Just like a few minutes ago.”

He squatted down next to her and tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. “Hermione, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t plan any of it. I just wanted to teach you a lesson about wandering around alone. There are unscrupulous wizards out there and this is a particularly bad time to be a witch…Merlin knows what they would do to you if they catch you, just because you’re friends with pot-head and the weasel…”

“I can take care of myself, Malfoy. I think that you’re the one who needs to worry. Especially now.” She stood up, shaky on her feet, and slipped out of the torn underclothes, tossing them into his face. “Here. A souvenir, so you can remember your lowest prank yet.”

He stood quickly, towering over her small frame. “I told you, I didn’t plan…oh, what the hell. You don’t believe me. You never will.”

“Oh, I believe you, Draco. You let your hormones rule you and took advantage of the situation. Finger-fucking me wasn’t enough this time, so you took it to the next level.”

He grabbed her arms and gave her a slight shake, her head falling back to look up at him. “No, it wasn’t enough! Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about that night? You can’t know.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I have never been this—this—”

“Enraptured? Poisoned? Obsessed?” she supplied helpfully.

“WEAK!” he yelled, shaking her again. “Weak, completely weak! I can’t stop thinking about you and the way that you felt in my arms. Can’t get the sound of your moans out of my head or my dreams. Fuck, Granger, I’ve hated you for six years and now all I want is to shag you into the ground!”

“So you shagged me into the wall instead. Good choice. That should make this obsession go away, Malfoy.” She pulled herself out of his grasp and reached down to pick up her school uniform and her robes. She dressed herself with shaking fingers with her back to him, turning when she felt she was presentable once again.

“I would expect you to treat me no different than before, Malfoy.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

Hermione held out her hand imperiously. “My wand?”

He took it out of his robe pocket and placed it in her palm, then found it pressed beneath his chin. “I would hope you have enough sense about you to understand this. Do not speak of this with anyone. Do not brag, boast, or gossip about me. Do not look at me. Do not speak to me. I know hexes that you only have dreams of, and none of them are unforgivable. I will not hesitate to use them if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone.”

He gave one succinct nod and the pressure of the wand was gone from his throat. He looked down at her, small but mighty, and saw a soft smile gracing her mouth.

She made her way to the door of the hidden room and paused. Turning back to him, she gave him a measuring look. “You aren’t the only one who has dreams, Malfoy,” she said cryptically, then the door opened and closed behind her and she was gone.

Draco sank down on the cold stone floor and rested his head on his hands.