It Must Be Done

Author's Note:
This is my first attempt at a fanfiction and I hope I don't disappoint. I've spent too much time letting this story just sit on my sidekick (yes I work from a sidekick) and gather electronic dust. I must have re-worked the whole thing dozens of times and I'm letting you know right now that its only going to be a two-shot. Let me know what you think if you are so inclined. :)


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Chapter One: I'm Not Paralyzed, but I Seem To Be Struck By You


"Wanker!" exclaimed an exasperated Hermione Granger as she dropped her books onto the table with a loud thump and earned herself more than a few suprised and amused looks. Two of the looks she received, however, were more than a bit frightened; Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley had never seen their Hermione use such language before, and especially not in the middle of a study hall. Exchanging looks with Ron, who shrugged and made it a point to avoid the situation as he hunched over his Potions essay with a newfound ferver, Harry rolled his eyes slightly before turning his full attention towards Hermione.

"What's he done now, Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, nodding in the direction of Ron.

Hermione's mind was swimming with thoughts of all the different ways she would love to hurt Draco Malfoy. His snide comments and sense of entitlement had stopped bothering her their first year at Hogwarts and had steadily become the very bane of her existence. Now that they were all in their seventh year, Hermione had had just about enough and then some of the boy's rude behavior.

There wasn't a single thing she had that he didn't spoil. Her friends? Malfoy always made it a point of his to pick on all of them. Her family? She was, what he so despicably referred to as, a mudblood; so he even managed to make her feel bad about her parentage from time to time. He truly poisoned everything! Hermione couldn't even enjoy being Head Girl in her final year because guess who was Head Boy. That's right. Draco Malfoy.

At the moment, Hermione was only seeing red. She had no idea that Harry was trying to get her attention and when she finally did, she rolled her eyes.

"It has got nothing to do with Ronald! Honestly, do you think that he's the only thing that will get me upset?" she pratically shreiked, whipping her Transfiguration textbook open to a random page and beginning to read, though she wasn't taking any of it in. She instantly felt bad about it, though, when Harry continued to look at her, dumfounded.

Sighing, Hermione tore her eyes away from the pages and looked around the room, causing a few nosy pairs of eyes to dart back down to their owner's notes. It was hardly fair for Harry to be so shocked. He took his anger out on Hermione and Ron all the bloody time.

But, Hermione reminded herself, I'm not Harry. I handle things better than this. And with a newfound appreciation for herself and her manners, Hermione looked back at Harry and shrugged.

"Sorry. It's just nerves." She lied. "Being Head Girl is loads more work than I thought, that's all."

That last bit was a serious lie and anyone who had ever been Head Girl or Boy at Hogwarts would tell you so. Being in the position of Head Girl was everything Hermione had hoped for. It was a nice little tower more or less to herself with her own bathroom and sleeping quarters all decked out in red and gold. It was helping plan all social events and having a say in all the little things going on at Hogwarts that involved the student body. It was having the ability to set up Prefect schedules and do rounds. It was amazing and it was all Hermione had ever wanted. . .except for one not-so-little thorn in her side.

It was horrible to have to share her tower and her glory with a Slytherin, but it was hell, absolute hell to share it with Draco Malfoy. It wasn't even that he talked to her, because he didn't. It was the sheer fact he was there. He was there all the time. It seemed that whenever she had free time, so did the he! It was driving Hermione mad with irritation. She could only guess that he'd done it on purpose to get under her skin. And that's why Hermione had decided that she was going to ignore him from now on. She would simply tune out all the nasty nothings he came up with and focus on her studies. After all, that's what Hermione did best.



Later that night. . . .


Priceless. thought Draco Malfoy as he laughed alongside his cronies: Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. They were on their way to the Great Hall for dinner and yet Draco still couldn't get the pleasant memory out of his head.

The name of the kid whose hands they had grabbed the ugly bullfrog from, Draco had no idea. Quite frankly, he didn't bloody well care. All he cared about was seeing the mudblood's face when she screamed.

He had known that Granger would want solitude for her studies; therefore she would either go to the library or to the Head's Tower. Seeing as how she'd gone in the direction of the library from their last class - the two shared the very same schedule - Draco had followed her, meeting Crabbe and Goyle on the way and nicking the frog from some scrawny Hufflepuff first year.

When Granger left to go get a book, they had shoved the frog into her bag and waited in the shadows for it all to unfold. When it did, she let out a shriek that got her kicked out of the library and left her thoroughly embarrassed. By the time Granger had gotten into the corridor, the three Slytherins had been waiting for her and Draco had said something about how she, being the filthy mudblood she was, should be used to such bog-dwelling, revolting creatures. She had merely glared at him, so he had gone on to tell her all about how disgusting her parents were as well. After that bit, Granger had raised her hand to hit him then thought better of it and sauntered off down the hall.

It had been priceless. Absolutely priceless because she'd backed down. He had won this round and it felt oh-so-good. He couldn't wait for the next go.

Filling his plate with a piece of roast and a scoop of mashed potatoes, Draco's eyes unconsciously wandered to the mudblood. "Disgusting." He said out loud, dropping his silverware and pushing his plate away from him. The very sight of her made his skin crawl in revulsion. How was she even allowed to exist? It hardly seemed fair for the rest of the wizarding world to have to put up with such an annoying, know-it-all, 'wannabe worthy'.

Draco still twitched whenever he thought about how every single year Hermione Granger had topped him in every single class. It made his stomach twist when he thought about how her and her beloved Harry Potter were always off saving or protecting the common good with their little tag-along, Ronald Dirt-Poor Weasley. The thought of that last pathetic wizard actually made Draco laugh out loud. Ron Weasley - all the Weasley's actually - were, in fact, so horrendously poor and pathetic that it filled Draco with mirth.

He could only imagine what it must be like to be outshone by everyone around you; not to mention how horrible it must make Ron feel to be so bloody useless. And, of course, any situation where a member of the Golden Trio felt horrible, made Draco feel spectacular. Draco himself would never stand for anyone being better than him.

But someone was. And that someone was Hermione Mudblood Granger.

He decided in his first year, after seeing just how annoying the filty girl could be, that he would make it his personal mission in life to make Granger miserable. The fact that she was Saint Potter's best friend only made things that much sweeter when they went Draco's way. That was why he rushed to get to the Head's Tower before Hermione tonight - and every night. She never walked into a relaxing common room that was lacking a certain Slytherin prince. He had to make sure that when she got there, the first thing she would lay eyes on was the person she hated the most. It was Draco's little way of saying 'I hate you' whenever Granger walked through the portrait hole.

Tonight would prove to be no different.

As the portrait swung open, Hermione saw Draco smirk at the book he was reading. With her luck, Draco would choose tonight to acknowledge her existence and try and aggravate her to no end. He would, undeniably, realize that she was trying to ignore him because he had that sense that every person being ignored has. The one that alerts you to the fact that you are, in fact, being ignored.

That was Hermione's gut-feeling about how tonight would go and she could only hope that she was wrong. She really didn't feel like getting worked up.


"Where have you been, mudblood? Its an hour after dinner. Servicing your ickle Harrykins, I presume?"


Yes. This was the luck of Hermione Granger.

Straining to act is if the annoying blond was not present, Hermione grabbed Hogwarts, A History off the shelf and plopped herself down onto the opposite side of the couch from where Draco sat. She was determined not to acknowledge him and all but buried her nose in the pages.


Draco's smirk grew as he saw that he was being ignored. He always did love a good game. The name of tonight's game was 'Hermione Granger' and he intended on breaking her willpower and getting a major reaction from her. Pent up hatred was always fun to watch as it was released. But to get the desired result, Draco would need to keep talking. So he did.

"I don't blame you, Granger. It must be the only way a bookworm such as yourself could get friends." He saw her shift, clearly annoyed, and continued on. "I mean, you must realize how dull you are. And you're quite annoying to be around, always telling people what to do."

As Draco continued to watch the girl opposite him, he realized that she must not have understood what he'd meant by 'service'. He stifled a laugh and spoke again while she pretended to read.

"That must be why you give it to the two of them so easy. You really are desperate for friends. Though I can't even begin to imagine those filthy mudblood lips on any part of my body."

At this, Granger's face flushed with comprehension and anger and her eyes shot up from her book, boring into his own with the most hate-filled glare he had ever seen.

As she rose, Draco smirked. He'd done it. He had elicited a reaction and it hadn't even taken much. It was only after a few glorious seconds that Draco noticed two things: one being that Granger's glare had not wavered in the slightest, and the other thing he realized was that his wand was on his bedside table. A small tingle of fear crept up the back of Draco's neck as he felt his smirk almost falter. It didn't though; he held it, not wanting to let her know he was uneasy, and tried to calm himself. This was Granger after all and she would never seriously injure him. She wouldn't risk expulsion. Nevertheless, he couldn't supress his anxiety when she pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.

Uh-oh.

"How dare you. How dare you even suggest that! You are actually telling me that I have to blow my way into having friends?!" Hermione's voice was about ten decibal levels higher than normal, sounding more like several shrieks than a few sentances. "Oh, because you're so bloody wonderful that everyone follows you around for your dazzling charm and golden personality, am I right?" Though her voice had stopped making her sound like a chipmunk, Hermione still sounded not-quite-right and she took deliberate steps closer to the twisted boy in front of her.

As Draco opened his mouth to speak, Hermione cut him off.

"Wrong." She said simply, placing both hands on her hips, wand no longer raised, and rolling her eyes. "You're pathetic, Malfoy. Buying your way into relationships as well as everything else." She paused, leaning close to him and sneering. "All you know how to do is follow mummy and daddy's orders. You've never once thought for yourself and that's a well-known fact."



Draco couldn't believe the crap this bitch was spewing out of her filthy mouth. Sure, Draco didn't have the soft, oooey-gooey friends and relationships that people in the oh-so-wonderful house of Gryffindor had, but that was because he neither wanted nor needed them. The very thought of the way everyone cared so bloody much about each other these days made Draco sick. The only thing that had ever really mattered to Draco was himself and his family.

Well, perhaps 'family' was too general a term, for the only other person Draco truly cared about would have to be his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was the only one who had ever shown him real compassion throughout his whole life; she was the exception to Draco's 'It's All About Me' outlook. His number one priority was saving his own skin and there were very few things that he cared about otherwise. His mother was very special indeed. So, he supposed, 'family' mattered to Draco. Family and pride and nothing else. That was how he liked it.

Yet even Draco could not deny that something in the way Granger had spoken made him sound pathetic. Pitiful. And why the bloody hell did she feel she knew things about him? Was it so painfully obvious to everyone that Draco Malfoy was his father's lapdog?

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. Wait a second. . . . . he thought to himself, confused. If someone had asked him moments before what exactly he was to his father, he would have said henchman. Lapdog had never crossed his mind before, but now that he thought about it. . . .

Ever since Draco could remember, the ideas and beliefs of the Malfoys had been beaten into him. And then, if he ever let himself slip just a little, the beatings would return. It was always Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, who performed these 'acts of responsibility' as he called them. Lucius believed strictly in the teachings of the Dark Lord and even though, over the summer, Harry Potter and his goody fucking two shoes friends had forced said Dark Lord into what was sure to be another long exile, Lucius's wand hand was kept painfully strong.

Draco couldn't even begin to count the number of times he'd been cursed with Cruciatus. Trying to count would mean diving into the memories of himself as a five year old at least, maybe younger; Draco couldn't remember. What he suddenly did remember as he pulled himself from his thoughts was that a filthy, intolerable mudblood was doing something to his mind. She was making him think about things he never wanted to think of again and making memories of his abuse resurface after years of drowning them out.

Yes. It was clear. Granger was messing with his mind. She always was good at those silent spells, wasn't she?



Hermione watched with grim satisfaction as different emotions played across Malfoy's face. It went a little something like this: anger, shock, realization, bewilderment, pain, confusion and then, when his steel eyes met her mohogany ones, fury.
She couldn't help but wonder what conclusions Malfoy had come to about himself, but surely they were deep and confusing and Hermione would have laughed out loud were she alone. Was it possible that she was making the prat re-think everything he'd ever believed?

I should think not.. Hermione told herself. That would go completely against that bad luck of mine.

In all honesty, she would have loved to see Malfoy crack. She'd always wondered what got to him and this is what it was. Family.

"I see I've got you thinking. That must be a new sensation for you, Malfoy. I would guess that Mummy Death-Eater's ickle Draco doesn't even have to think at home because there, like everywhere else you go, you don't do anything for yourself."


Draco had had quite enough of the little mudblood bitch thinking she had him under control. See that was the problem with those softies Draco hated: they talked too much. Well, the correct term was 'monologuing' and it was usually set aside for the bad guys. But sometimes the good guys gor stupid too. Granger must have been holding this all back for a very long time. She couldn't even see that she wasn't watching him. That's probably why she felt she was in control of the situation. But she was wrong. Draco may have been wandless, but he wasn't going to sit here and take her shit for another second.

"You're probably the biggest coward I ever-"

Hermione's words were cut off as she was pushed back hard, making contact with the bookshelves that outlined the fireplace. She hadn't expected Draco to move so suddenly, nor had she expected him to have the sense to deliberately knock her wand across the room. It was a whole ten seconds or so before she noticed each of his hands were wrapped tightly around one of her wrists, pinning them on either side of her head. She was trapped.


Draco had her right where he wanted her: at his mercy. For just as she had wanted to unleash all seven years' worth of anger and frustration, so did he. But what to do now that she was incapacitated?

While different ideas ran through Draco's mind, he couldn't help noticing how very, very close their bodies were, couldn't help realizing just how perfect her breasts felt against his chest with every rise and fall of her own. She was obviously breathing hard and Draco was trying his best to force all thoughts of Mudblood Granger's breasts out of his mind. He needed to concentrate on the hatred he felt for her, not the way she made him think about his life seriously or the way her body now put his own on hyper-aware mode. His senses were tingling with what Draco would swear was rage. He simply would not allow himself to think it was anything else.

"I am not a coward." He said menacingly, gripping the girl's wrists tighter and inclining his head, leaning closer to her in an attempt to be threatening. She tried to move away from him but could not due to the bookcase. Apparently, the threatening aspect had worked. "You know nothing about me or my way of life, Granger, so don't act as though you do. Its pathetic to think that you would actually try and turn me against my own family with your petty words. In my world, people's thoughts are changed a little differently." He smirked, not missing the terror that flashed in Granger's eyes for a split second. That split-second later, she seemed to regain her calm and glared at him.

"Still you call me pathetic? Please, Malfoy, spare me. I know I'm better than you. In fact, there really isn't a single positive thing that I don't trump you in." Hermione smirked as she saw renewed fury in his eyes. She went on, "Grades, responsibility, knowledge and even my family." His eyebrow raised at that comment and he actually laughed out loud.

"Let me tell you a little something about family greatness and which families 'trump' others, Granger. Pureblood families, such as my own, are a source of great pride and power. Your pitiful muggle family is nothing compared to a pureblood family. Muggles can't do anything right. They can't even have children properly! Look at what your parents produced!" Draco looked over Hermione in a meaningful way and went on. "A filthy, no good, skanky mudblood."

At that last comment, Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're still on that whole thing? Malfoy, I'm better than you. I'm better than you in every possible way. Blood doesn't matter anymore. Everyone sees that its the truth. Everyone knows it but you!" she laughed this time and shook her head as if she couldn't believe what a poor soul stood before her.

Draco dug his nails into Granger's wrists, making her wince. The only thing that he knew to be somewhat true in that statement was that yes, everyone supposedly knew something about the bookworm, but what they knew was far different than what she was thinking.

It was a known fact that Hermione Granger had blossomed into quite a delicious-looking flower. At least, that's what every boy in Hogwarts said. The thought made Draco's stomach knot up. He looked away from her hideous face and wrinkled his nose. How could anyone find her attractive?

The thought alone of those dirty mudblood lips and skin on Draco made his own pale skin crawl. It was then that he realized he was, in fact, touching her skin. He was still pinning her wrists to the wall and his pure blood screamed at him to release the sack of filth that called itself a witch and take another shower. But just as he was about to do so, the girl's chest rose once again and made that too-wonderful brush with Draco's chest.

She certainly didn't feel like one big bag of dirt shaped like a human. She felt. . .soft and warm, just like any other girl. She didn't smell vile either; her scent was a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon. Cinnamon. . .her eyes were something along that color, weren't they? Draco lifted his gaze from the books he had been staring at and looked back into Granger's eyes. Yes. Cinnamon was accurate, though at times he could recall them being a honey or chocolate color. . .



What in the name of Merlin is wrong with me?! Hermione shrieked inwardly at herself. Though she was getting serious satisfaction out of telling Draco off (she had been waiting seven years now), she couldn't help but feel a bit of pity rise within her. Could it be that she was actually hitting the nail on the head? Maybe Malfoy had had a tough childhood? The thought of that almost made her laugh again, but perhaps that was the truth. He had to have gotten his nonsensical, outdated beliefs some way or another. Maybe, just maybe there was more to Draco Malfoy than met the eye.

Hermione's gaze now rested on Malfoy's chest, which was well-toned just like the rest of his body; she could feel it against her, though she would never have admitted to such thoughts out loud. Now Hermione pulled her eyes away from his chest and their eyes met. She didn't look away, rationalizing that if she did, he would think she had backed down. And she was not about to give him that satisfaction. To her suprise, Malfoy's grey eyes had touches of blue in them and did not harbor the unadulterated hatred that Hermione was sure shone brightly in her own. What was he thinking?

"Kiss me, Granger."

Draco said it without realizing what he was asking for and when he did realize, he didn't care. He needed her. He'd realized this only seconds before, but knew it was true. The two of them, so excruciatingly different, complimented one another so very well and he was determined to make her see that.

"Are you mad?!" Hermione squeaked, feeling her blood rush to her cheeks, painting them red under Draco's scrutiny. Was he serious? How could he. . . ? It felt so wrong. So very, very wrong. She looked away from him, trying to assemble her thoughts. He squeezed her wrists hard, clearly annoyed with the loss of eye contact, and she whimpered again, glaring back into his eyes.

"Kiss me, Granger." He said again. Only this time, there was a strain to his voice, a need that Hermione could not decipher. It wasn't just lust - she'd heard that plenty of times from some of her own experiences - it was. . .raw, true. He needed her and, she realized with slight horror, maybe she needed him too. For what, she had no idea but Hermione had never felt a need for her that was this intense. She suddenly didn't care that this was the boy she'd loathed for the whole seven years of her Hogwarts life. Right now he was different. He was himself uncovered, like some treasure buried deep within a nasty shell.

Searching in his eyes, Hermione saw no hint of mirth, she saw only that raw need that was effectively making her knees weak. She blinked a few times then leaned forward tentatively, licking her lips in anticipation and hesitation. Could she really take this step? She felt like if she did, she would never be able to look at Malfoy the same way again. But as that thought ran through her head, she found herself closing the distance between the two of them and, at last, her soft lips met his.

Instantly Draco pulled back, shocked. It was as if her lips were full of some offensive electricity and he wasjust now realizing his mistake. He saw Hermione's cheeks flushed red once again and figured she was trying to determine what was going through his head; however, Draco had no intention of enlightening her.

She'd kissed him. She'd actually taken those soft, yielding lips and pressed them against his own. Draco couldn't help but take a step back. He had felt electricity alright, but it had been one that had ignited a passion within him like never before. It fightened him. She was a mudblood, after all. . . .right? Could he still let himself think that word after feeling himself react so strongly to just one kiss? Draco didn't know, but he bloody well wanted to find out. His resistance to this need was fading.

"M. . .Merlin, Granger." He said, staring at her in amazement.


Hermione felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. He'd sounded so sincere, so needy and desperate. . .and she'd fallen for it, hadnt she? She'd fallen prey to a new form of Draco Malfoy Torture. She was so frustrated, so full of anger that she didn't know what she-

"Do it again." He whispered, breaking her train of thought. The look of shock on his face was only just starting to fade and was now being replaced by a look of lust. She looked up at him, confused.

"I'm sorry, wh-" but her question was cut off when Draco quickly pressed his lips against hers, not letting the fact that her mouth was open go to waste. He slowly slid his tongue into her mouth, earning a squeal of suprise from her, and began massaging her tongue with his own. He could hardly believe what this was doing to him. The fact that it was so very wrong, made it that much more of a turn-on and so very, very right.

Hermione was currently lost in Malfoy's kiss. She hardly remembered what she used to think of the blond Slytherin and when she realized how good he tasted, her memory failed her even worse. Without meaning to, she moaned into their kiss and caused him to emit a soft groan, barely audible against even the quiet crackling of the fire.


Once Draco realized that Granger would not slap him across the face and run, he loosened his deathgrip on her wrists, rubbing them soothingly before letting his fingers trail down her arms, causing goosebumps to creep up at the fairy wing touches. This girl was so easy to excite that it was driving Draco mad with desire. He guessed that nobody had ever touched her like this and that made him all the more determined to take her and make her his.

Draco's hands continued their journey down her body, stopping only to brush against the sides of each of her breasts. He got the effect he'd wanted. She gasped, breaking away and staring at him like a deer in wandlight and he smiled at her. Draco Malfoy, sworn enemy of all things mudblood, had bloody smiled at her. He realized that he didn't want her to be afraid and he hoped that the small gesture was reassuring.

It was.

Hating the fact that their lips had seperated and hating even more that it was her own fault, Hermione used her newly freed hands to pull Malfoy closer, once again claiming his lips in an impassioned kiss. His hands now rested on her hips; she could feel them grip hard as their lips met and Hermione nearly melted right then and there. Her own hands held fistfulls of Malfoy's robes and rested on his chest, moving up and down slowly every now and then. She had never felt like this before and was sure that it had something to do with the boy she was currently having a tongue war with. Though what she was feeling about said boy she couldn't put her finger on. Did she still hate him? Probably. But that was yet to be determined.



Draco couldn't keep his hands still for more than a few seconds. He had to feel more of the suddenly beautiful girl that was pressed against him. It was as if a veil had been pulled off of his eyes and Draco was seeing Granger in a whole new light. He simply had to have her as his. Only his. Withdrawing his tongue from her mouth, Draco bit Hermione's bottom lip gently before bringing it into his mouth and sucking softly. She moaned lightly and his hands couldn't stay put any longer.

Slowly, Draco slid his right hand back up the witch's side and once he reached her chest, he smirked, releasing her lip and beginning their battle for dominance once again. As he distracted her with his tongue, Draco slipped both of his hands under Granger's robe at the shoulders, pushing it down and hoping she would let him take it off.

Not a second later, Draco felt the girl's arms leave their place at his chest to drop to her sides. Not wanting to keep her hands off him for longer than neccessary, Draco hurriedly slipped the robe off and took her wrists in his hands again.


As Malfoy's hands circled around her wrists again, Hermione tensed. Even her lips stopped moving. A moment earlier he had done this in order to incapacitate her. Was that his motive now? Perhaps his plan all along was to. . .rape her? She felt him pause for a moment and pull back from their kiss to look at her.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Granger." His voice was light, mocking as usual but with a lot less of that 'I hate you' vibe. It was more. . .playful?

"No need to be afraid." And with that, he lifted her arms, letting them fall over his shoulders.

"Who's afraid?" she asked him, wrapping the once again freed arms around his neck defiantly and raising an eyebrow. She could feel Malfoy's hands trembling every time he almost gathered enough courage to touch her breasts and it gave her a much-needed confidence boost. Was he actually worried about hurting her or making her uncomfortable? A few minutes ago, that notion would have been laughable. Now? Well, Hermione wasn't so sure.


As her arms wrapped around him, Draco felt himself snap back to reality. What the hell was he doing with Granger in the middle of the Head common room? Surely this was not the right place for these kinds of things. He was itching to pick her up and take her to his room, but he figured that with Granger, he'd take it slow.

He looked down at her with his signature smirk and said. "I was under the impression you were, Granger. You're shaking like I've never seen."

That much was true. Granger was trembling like a scared little girl and Draco didn't know what to make of it. Was she, in fact, scared? Did she think that he would kill her if she didn't do this? Was his Death Eater reputation really that bad now? The idea was ridiculous since he wasn't even a Death Eater. Never was. His decision hadn't had to happen thanks to Potter and company; he'd have to thank them for that one day.

Draco's anxieties were quelled, however when he saw Granger roll her eyes, and when he felt her take his left hand and place it on her left breast. "I believe yours were the hands that were trembling, Malfoy." She said with a satisfied smirk of her own as he grimaced. She then made a little squeak when he squeezed her breast without warning.

"I don't 'tremble', Granger and you will pay dearly for that." She almost felt a spark of fear go through her, but it was instantly replaced with the now familiar electricity that having Malfoy's mouth on her own created. The kiss, combined with the hand that was now massaging her breast, caused Hermione to moan again, adding vibrations to the already stimulating kiss.



Deciding after a few moments that Granger's clothing was downright offensive, Draco undid her tie and threw it to the floor then proceeded to all but rip the buttons on her blouse, pushing the material over her shoulders and letting the now disheveled shirt hang from where it was still tucked into her skirt. As Draco moved his hands to her back, ready to unclip her bra, he felt Granger bite his lip and, without meaning to let it slip out, groaned loudly, pushing her harder against the bookshelves and grinding his hips into hers.

Hermione gasped and broke their kiss again. She'd just felt Draco's erection through his pants and it shocked her. She was, in all respects, a prude and the contact that made her heart skip a few beats also made her realize what was happening. She was now heavily snogging the boy who had made her and her friends' lives a living hell at Hogwarts for the past seven years. . . . What in Merlin's beard was she thinking?! She had to put a stop to this; she simply had to. This was not an option for Hermione Granger. Not an option.

As she opened her mouth to say something, she heard her bra fall to the floor and felt a thumb brush over her nipple that had instantly gone hard, reacting to the cool air around her. Moaning, Hermione briefly lost her train of thought. Draco seemed to have taken her open mouth and shocked expression a little differently and grinded against her once again. "What's the matter, Granger?" he asked before kissing her neck softly, making her close her eyes in response. "Never gotten a man aroused before? Not hard to believe. . ." he was now licking his way up to her ear; she shivered. "We are talking about Little Miss Dull, are we not?" he asked before taking her earlobe and sucking it softly as if knowing that her mind was telling her to stop this and daring her to try.


Draco could not seem to even entertain the idea of Granger stopping whatever this was. He'd never felt this fire before. It burned and licked him in all the right places, melting away the icy exterior he'd worked so hard to keep and igniting a passion within him that he never even knew existed. Having her against him felt so good that Draco was starting to wonder if this went beyond lust. It certainly felt like it could be more to him and he was prepared to face any and all consequences if Granger did, in fact let this happen. And let her be damned if she didn't. He'd hated her before. He could make himself hate her again, right?



Hermione had never been called dull by anyone other than Draco Malfoy since first year and it still bothered her slightly when he said it. Pushing him off of her, Hermione took what he'd said and ran with it. Her mind had needed any reason at all to justify running away from this situation and the way Malfoy was making her feel. It was dangerous.

She wondered what exactly it was that he was making her feel as she pulled her shirt back up from where it was previously hanging limp, held only by her skirt. Buttoning said blouse up, Hermione's mind raced, trying to work out exactly what the hell she had just let happen.

And how she could have possibly let this happen? Draco Malfoy was a ruthless bully who, undoubtably, would have some sort of documentation - photos perhaps? - of this night and would use them as blackmail sometime soon. If he didn't have the proof, he would just spread the story around the school in hopes that people would believe him; most wouldn't, of course, but the rumor would still cause people to look at her in a new light and question the good girl they'd known for all their years at Hogwarts. Even Malfoy could play the needy rich boy, and he did it so excellently that know-it-all Granger had fallen for it.

"Granger?! Granger-Wait!" Draco called, turning around and proceeding to follow the Head Girl as she made her way to the stairs. Draco knew that unless she invited him up those stairs, they would transform into a slide and send him rolling down to the floor. He could not follow if Granger went up and they would, most likely, go back to their hate routine after an awkward week or so. They would never think or speak of this incident again.

But Draco couldn't handle that.

Hermione Granger - the bloody Golden Girl! - had touched him in a way that made his heart beat a little louder and faster in his chest. She'd opened his eyes to the horrors of his own life, she'd made him really think and she'd done it all in a matter of a few minutes. Draco was captivated by this and hardly wanted to be deprived of it. She was the forbidden fruit. She'd come with sacred knowlegde and sensations that Draco simply could not let himself forget. He wanted her to himself and he needed her.

He needed her more than ever now that he'd tasted her.


Walking briskly up towards the first two steps, Hermione felt those familiar tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. How could she have let this happen? How could she have let herself get so lost in the way his body felt against her own? She brought her fingers to her lips in remembrance of their kiss then shook her head. She couldn't let herself think about this ever again.

"Granger get back here. Can we talk about this at least? Granger!!!"

She ignored him, forcing herself to focus on anything but the sweet drawl she yearned to turn and run to. Anything but the agonizingly delicious scent that still lingered on her face and neck and, of course, anything but the taste that was still driving her crazy.

He continued to call her, getting angry now, and she quickly started to make her way up the steps. Malfoy couldn't follow her here. As she was about to make the turn on the middle of the small, stone spiral staircase, his urgent call of "HERMIONE!" made her freeze in her tracks.

Maybe she'd heard wrong.

"Wh. . .What did you just call me?" she asked, turning around on her step and staring at him with wide eyes. She didn't even acknowledge the tiny voice in her head that begged her to realize that this was a ploy to get her back downstairs.

That familiar hint of need echoed against the walls just as the name itself did and Hermione was, again, on the verge of crying. She hardly knew why, but she did know that something inside her brain was screaming at her to run up those stairs. A situation involving a Malfoy was dangerous one. A situation that may involve her heart was even more so.


As the name reverberated in the prolonged silence, Draco stood shocked. He was probably even more suprised than Hermione that he'd actually let her first name slip. He had never, never called her by her first name. . . . .ever and now that he had, he felt as though he wanted to say nothing more. The fact that he hadn't even realized what he was saying was scaring Draco. He was usually the definition of self-control and he never let his urges or emotions get the best of him when they were as ludacris as the ones he was now having.

It was obscene and utterly frighteneing that he would be more or less content with making an about-face and heading off to his room just to say 'Hermione' over and over to himself like some kind of stalker. He truly would have. But he wanted to talk to the girl as well.

"Hermione." He said simply, giving her a small smile and looking up into her honey eyes. Immediatly he noticed that a tear was making its way down her cheek and his face fell. He wouldn't dare ask her what was wrong; he hadn't lost all his former self when he'd called her 'Hermione' and his pride wouldn't let him look as though he cared.

If circumstances had been different this might have been funny. Here he was, the Slytherin Prince running after a mudbl-muggleborn Gryffindor like some kind of lovesick idiot and he was suddenly worried about what would become of his ego if he asked her what was wrong? Yes, quite humorous from an outside perspective, but Draco's thoughts were all on the girl who now dropped down so that she was sitting on a step, face in her hands as she, without a doubt, let more tears fall down her rosy cheeks.



Who did he think he was, throwing her name around like that? The way it made her feel was so intense that Hermione had needed to sit down so as not to lose her balance and fall. He had called her Hermione and, so it seemed, not had an ulterior motive; he'd sounded genuinly irritated and confused. How could he have though? And how was it that he could vex her so?

It drove Hermione mad that something as simple as Malfoy saying her first name got her so emotional that she was on her way to a breakdown. He was a prat even when he wasn't trying. And to Hermione's disgust, she laughed a bit through the sobs.

In no way shape or form did this mean that Hermione was ready to call the bastard 'Draco'; not a chance. But it was definitely a start.