Wicked Game

Chapter One: Teaching Lessons or Sweet Revenge


“Hey, handsome.”

The heavy oak door opened slightly, revealing a waterfall of raven curls in the crack between the mass of wood and its frame created. Slender fingers, finished with polished nails the colour of red wine, tucked a few strands behind a jewelled ear, ensuring the girl who had just spoken be no longer hidden behind a curtain of waist-long hair.

Batting her dark lashes in an alluring manner, she pushed the door open wider and stepped into the cosy study. She quietly cast a locking charm as the door swung shut behind her and flashed the only occupant of the room a salacious smile, not once taking her rain forest green eyes off the young man lounging lazily in front of the merrily crackling fire.

The young man in question looked up from his reading at the creaking of the study door. He took his time in closing the book on his lap and waited for her initiative move, eyes like molten silver glinting in the light of glowing flames

He knew exactly why she had come; for the same reason she had sought him out every other spare minute of the last two weeks. And even if he hadn’t known before, upon seeing her attire even the dumbest of gits (namely the Weasel) would have known her purpose.

Sweet Merlin, she was being so completely obvious. Black skirt riding just a little too high on her shapely thighs, obligatory school tie removed and white blouse opened just one button too many, revealing skin the colour of dark chocolate, hair spilling out around her shoulders. Hell, her whole outfit just screamed ‘FUCK ME’.

But if she wanted it, she would have to come get it. He wouldn’t make a move in her direction. She was the one who wanted him, the one who needed him. He was in control, even if she liked to think of it the other way around. That girl really thought she could use beauty and sex and willingness as a means to an end on him – foolish little vixen. He wasn’t one to be played; he wouldn’t let her have it. She’d find that out soon enough.

As she entered the room, her hungry eyes greedily took in his appearance as they roamed over his body appreciatively. It should have been a crime to look so unbelievably sexy in a plain, boring school uniform. He had removed his black robe, sitting in the upholstered chair in only his plain white shirt, top button undone and tie loosened around his neck. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his book resting on his black uniform trousers as one foot rested on the ground, the other carelessly dangling over the armrest. It was all regulation, but he wouldn’t be Draco Malfoy if he hadn’t at least changed one item to make the look his own. His silver belt buckle resembled a serpent with emerald jewels for eyes and his trademark silver ring was always given pride of place on his right hand. The look of him sitting there all relaxed next to the fire really was a tremendous turn-on . . .

“You seem a little tired. I guess that’s the effect of the Quidditch try-outs you’ve had all day. How are you going to study when you’re so drained?” She was taking small steps towards the deep green-winged chair he currently occupied, swaying her hips lasciviously in the process. He placed the book on Quidditch tactics onto the posh side table to his left and offered her a sly grin, running his fingers through his hair while he stifled a fake yawn with the back of his free hand.

“Why, Kea, now that you mention it, I must admit I do feel a little drowsy. It’s almost curfew anyway; what are you doing out and about this late?” He gazed at her quite innocently before putting both of his feet firmly on the dark wooden floor.

In one graceful movement she was sitting on his lap, slowly resting one leg over the thigh of the other one so her already short skirt rode up just two inches higher, revealing more of her firm thighs. Her right hand slid slowly up his lean chest whilst her left toyed with the short sleek hair at the nape of his neck. She leaned in close, so her left breast was pressed against his chest.

“Well, Slytherin Prince, I thought you could do with something to wake you up before you have to go patrolling the castle with that repulsive Mudblood. And I know just the thing,” she whispered seductively, her hot breath tickling the sensitive skin below his ear before she gave his earlobe a flick with her equally burning tongue.

He flashed another sly smile and proceeded to lift his right arm off the winged chair’s armrest to sneak it around her soft waist. He arched one perfectly shaped dark blond eyebrow in mock surprise, leaning his head back slightly. “Oh, yeah? And you’re sure that it will help?”

Her almond shaped eyes flashed at him from under thick lashes, leaning in so close that their noses were touching. She murmured softly, “Most definitely.”

It didn’t take the young witch long to eliminate the inch of space that kept their mouths apart, and she pressed her full red lips firmly against the young man’s. Asking permission to explore the heat of his mouth, she ran the tip of her tongue over the junction of his lips, which parted for her immediately. He let his eyes slide shut while his free hand found its way up her long legs with excruciating slowness. Her grip on the soft strands of his blond hair tightened, pulling his hot mouth eagerly closer, deepening their kiss.

His scent fogged her brain; the slightest hint of expensive cologne and leather added to his very personal note was just breathtaking.

She shifted slightly against him, in order to straddle his strong thighs without breaking their now urgent kiss, never loosening her fingers in his hair or the grip she now held on his neck. He could clearly feel the heat radiating from between her legs as his elegant fingers travelled up under her skirt now, stopping occasionally to draw little circles on the bare skin they found there. He knew this drove her wild.

Impatiently, her left hand slid down his neck and released his green and silver school tie. Panting, they broke apart unwillingly so the girl could dispose of the unnecessary cloth. The moment the tie was gone, the young man gripped her waist with both firm hands and pulled her against him so every inch of their bodies were touching. She gave a surprised but very approving moan, throwing her head back and revealing the stretch of her bare neck to his now hungry eyes.

Draco grinned; she was so predictable. In the previous thirteen days he had learned all of her reactions to his touches and motions. He could play her like an instrument. One thing was to be sure, though; she liked it rough. A little caressing and then pure sex; Mommy and Daddy would be so disappointed in their sweet ‘innocent’ little girl.

Oh, well, he had more pressing matters to attend to, as this would be the last time he would have the Jamaican beauty Kea Pandorra. Which was a shame, really. Merlin knew this girl was a blast, but he had grown tired of her. Two weeks of fun between the sheets was enough and the sooner he got his revenge, the better. Besides, there were plenty of other stunners in his year that were practically begging for his attention. Which was no surprise really; what with his good looks, cunning, heritage and bad-boy reputation. But if he wanted to make his revenge even sweeter than it was now, he had to give her the best shag of her sorry life.

Planting a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses down her enticing neck, he gently alternated between nibbling and sucking the more sensitive flesh at her collarbone and the little valley between her breasts. Her breathing sped up, leaving her gasping for air and running her polished nails through his soft hair once again, a moan slipping out from between her lips.

***°***

His heart racing and his breathing ragged and shallow, he collapsed heavily on top of her, effectively trapping the equally spent Jamaican between his body and the tabletop of his study desk. Finding it hard to breathe, she kissed every inch of the Slytherin Prince’s skin she could reach and gently trailed her fingertips over the reddened skin on his sweat-covered back, where she had left tiny half-moon marks and welts from her fingernails.

Lazily, he eventually parted from her, propping himself up on his elbows to face away from the girl. He let his head fall back while giving his heartbeat time to go back to normal, just like his breathing. After a few moments, he moved back over to the fireplace as they had relocated to one of the two majestic desks at the other end of the Head Students’ cosy private study.

Not that he was suddenly cold, no – not after that – but he didn’t want to face his revenge with his pants down. He searched for his trousers and boxers and once found, he slid them on, a sly smile gracing his features as he walked back over to the dark beauty.

She sat up and slipped off the table to meet him halfway across the room, smiling back at him – though their two smiles were for two very different reasons. Once she reached where he was standing, she looped her arms around him, kissing him gently, slowly and thoroughly. Only due to lack of oxygen they broke their kiss, Kea leaning back slightly to look into eyes which were like gathering rain clouds.

“So, have you found your players for the Quidditch Team already?” she murmured softly, leaning into him as she buried her head in the crook of his neck. He held her firmly so she couldn’t see the cruel smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, nor the malicious glint in his eyes.

“Some of them, yes.” His words were slightly muffled by her hair.

“Then who is your new keeper? Have you found one yet?” She asked; emerald eyes wide open, eager to hear his answer.

“What does it matter?” he asked dismissively. His revenge was so close.

“You know that I am a pretty good keeper, right? And I thought that, you know, since we were lovers, that I could maybe get to play that position? If you don’t find anybody else good enough, I mean . . .” Her brow furrowed and she bit her bottom lip, hoping for her wish to come true.

“Lovers?” he responded coldly. He had become perfectly still by now, his hand no longer playing with the thick afro curls cascading down her back. With satisfaction, he noticed that she held her breath. “Who ever said we were lovers?”

The icy tone of his voice caused goosebumps to spread all over her body and Kea licked her suddenly dry lips. “Well, y-you . . .” she trailed off, swallowed, then started again more firmly. “I mean, we’ve been together for two weeks now, Draco. As far as I know only very few witches had the privilege to be around you for this amount of time. I mean, you do care for me, don’t you? So I am inclined to call us lovers.” She held her breath once more, not daring to move or even blink.

All of a sudden, he chuckled. “Merlin, Kea. You can’t be serious?! You really thought I loved you?!”

She recoiled from him like she’d just been slapped, stepping back against the desk and gripping the edges for support.

He grinned coldly at her; this was getting better by the second. He had expected her to fall madly in love with him – who wouldn’t? – but was still pleasantly surprised at his acting abilities. She really believed that he loved her back? Her shock-widened eyes showed him the proof.

Excellent.

He looked at her with a cruel glint in his eyes, his silver orbs hard like polished steel. Draco’s merciless trademark sneer snapped right in place, Kea flinching under the boy’s scrutiny. “Shit. And I always thought you were intelligent. I mean, you are an excellent student.”

He shook his head slowly, hands in his pockets as he sighed in mock disappointment. Without any haste, he strode back over to his chair and sat down, arms resting on the armrests. He shifted uncomfortably and reached under his arse, pulling two of Kea’s ripped off shirt buttons up. He threw them into the flames and brought his eyes back to rest on the still naked Jamaican.

She watched him with enormous eyes, never once shifting. She slowly licked her ruby red lips, brows furrowed when she cast her eyes down. Looking up again, she said, “But you . . . I thought that—”

“You thought that sleeping with the Captain would guarantee you a free ticket into the Quidditch Team!”

She started at the harshness of the young man’s voice. She was in a whole lot of trouble now: he knows! She felt like she’d been slapped full force for the second time in two minutes.

“But I’ve got some news for you. Using sex to get your way, in your career or elsewhere, is neither intelligent, classy or sexy, nor is it Slytherin. On the very contrary, my dear, it is slutty and obnoxious.” His words cut through her like a knife. She trembled violently.

Good.

His eyes flashed with malice, hard like rocks and so reminiscent of his father’s when he said the next words, pronouncing each syllable carefully and enjoying the way it made her start.

“You are a disgrace to the Slytherin intelligence. A disgrace to the whole house, and most of all, to the name.” The evil grin on his face widened. Kea stared at him, eyes narrowed, but still unable to snap out of her stupor.

“You know, I had you figured the minute you walked up to me at the Quidditch stands after my private flying session last week, “ he said, his tone suddenly conversational. “You’ve mentioned a little too often and around the wrong people that you’d do anything and everything possible to make it into the Team this year.”

It was quite handy to have a good grip on one’s housemates. And the fact that his childhood friend and confidante Pansy Parkinson was actually his lover came in handy, too. She always delivered him the juiciest gossip on a silver platter. Just the way she had done with every word Kea had said the last four years. Pansy didn’t see Kea as a serious rival in regards to “her” Draco – in her opinion nobody was a threat to her position in his life – but she thought he should know everything in regards to the Jamaican anyway. Girls.

“You see, you’ve made a severe mistake. I am a true Slytherin. They don’t call me the ‘Prince of Slytherin’ for nothing. Furthermore, I am a Malfoy. Which inherited me my wits and cunning of which I’m very proud. Of course that’s where my good looks come from, too, but that’s beside the point. The point is. . . .”

Draco rose gracefully to look straight at the Slytherin girl. The fire behind him made his blond hair glow like a halo around his head; his features were in the shadows, yet his eyes, sparkling with anger, could be seen perfectly clear in the contrast.

“. . . that. . . .” He took a step towards her, hands hanging loosely by his sides.

She looked worried now, almost as if she contemplated the possibility of him being rude enough to slap her.

But he only stood there, an evil smirk still pulling at the corners of his mouth. He looked quite dangerous; his eyes narrowed as they were, his stance firm. She felt herself shudder involuntarily from his intimidating demeanour. But no, he was far too well-bred to do something as low and common as laying a hand on a girl. At least that was what she kept telling herself.

“You can’t outwit me, Kea.” He tilted his head to one side slightly. “I am no one’s means to an end.”

He stared her down for only a few seconds before she lowered her eyes, head hanging in defeat. “I thought you cared for me. . . .” It came out so soft, it was barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

Draco shook his head. “Sweet Morgana. You really didn’t notice, did you? And you still don’t get it.” He all but smiled now, incredulous. How the hell did she get sorted into Slytherin? That shabby sorting hat must have been washed too hot. Should’ve been a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff. . . .

“Do you really want me to spell it out for you?” His eyebrows shot up in question. “You didn’t use me. I used you.”

Kea closed her eyes at those words. She felt the tears well up. No, she wouldn’t cry – even though the Slytherin boy’s gaze was intense, burning holes into her skull.

“I played you like some kind of new instrument. Figuring out its mechanism, understanding the way it worked, pushing different buttons and mapping the responses in my mind, learning all the different functions and then playing how I pleased. Not too difficult, really; not with you, at least. Which is the same exact reason why I stopped. Sad as it is, you were boring. You are beautiful, truth be told, but that sadly doesn’t make up for your obvious lack of Slytherin-worthy cunningness. I’d figured you to be smarter. My fault.” He sighed, “Now pack your things and go. I’ve got more important things to do.”

His icy gaze left her eyes and he turned around to watch the flames of the merrily crackling fire. But not before looking at her once more with nothing but pure disdain.

Kea felt the salty sting of tears behind her eyelids. She kept her eyes downcast, so he wouldn’t see the unshed tears that made them sparkle. But then her pride kicked in. She couldn’t let it end like this. She had dignity after all. How could he dare?

In a weak attempt to get back at him for what he’d done to her, she said the first thing that came to her mind.

“I’ll tell everybody that you raped me! That you forced me! That you put me under the Imperius! They’ll believe me! You’ll lose your badge and they’ll lock you up in Azkaban, just like your bloody father! Y-you bastard! I’ll make you pay for this! Just you wait!” She all but spat the words at him with all the strength she could muster, but was betrayed by the cracking of her voice; she sounded weak. But that didn’t keep her from glaring at him; eyes narrowed and glinting with tears, shimmering with emotion.

He didn’t see it, for he had his back to her, but he needn’t look at her to know this. Merlin’s balls, he’d humiliated and used her, knowing how she had had a crush on him since third year. She had even once tried to make him jealous by purposely snogging his best mate Blaise Zabini right in front of his nose last year. Anything to coax a single reaction out of Draco Malfoy. Come to think of it, Blaise and Kea had been a quite an adorable match. But now her pride had a scratch and a pretty deep one at that. Her heart was bruised if not broken. She was very deeply hurt and of course she was on the verge of tears.

Fine with him. She deserved it.

Draco flashed her a quick pitying glance over his shoulder. “No, you can’t.” That wicked smirk was back. “For one thing, the whole school has seen you putting on a show for me since Christmas break in third year. And for another, girls always come to me willingly. They throw themselves at my feet just like you did. Only most of them do it more subtly. I do not force myself on a girl. I’m a Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake, I have my pride and standards. I would never sink so low as to force myself on a girl. And as a last thing, leave Lucius out of this. I have no father. So don’t you ever mention that name in my presence again. Leave now and stop making a fool of yourself; this is just pathetic.”

She knew he was right. And she should’ve known – that he knew. She should have expected that he’d humiliate her. That he’d make her pay. But she’d successfully pushed her worries aside, losing herself in Draco and what he did to her. A girl could always dream, right? And she did love him. Dearly. Yes, of course she’d wanted to make it into the team, but all of this had been about Draco, too. If she had succeeded in her plans, then she’d have had it both: the so far untamed Prince of Slytherin and the Keeper position.

How foolish of her to believe that she’d had the tiniest of a chance to succeed. How foolish to believe that she could make him care, make him fall in love with her.

Everybody knew how he was; that he never harboured any romantic feelings for any of his mistresses. He was the Hogwarts heartthrob, right along with The Boy Who Lived. He was a lady-killer, yet a ladies man, and the girls accepted it. He treated them with respect, always let them down gently and made them feel valued.

He’d never once made a girl feel like dirt, the way he’d just done with her. No, he never told the witches that he got bored of them, or that they annoyed him, even if that was the case. He’d never had any complaints in that department. But she, Kea Pandorra, had tried to use him. As a means to an end.

Him. The Prince of Slytherin, the one and only Malfoy heir, the teen who nearly killed Dumbledore on behalf of the Dark Lord, a young wizard awfully familiar with the Dark Arts, the son of Lord Voldemort’s former most loyal servant, a young man who was plotting, scheming, sneaky, intelligent and very influential.

She had actually tried to fool him, something no one ever dared to attempt. And with good reason, as she now knew. He never hurt anybody physically, no, that was such a common thing to do. He tore his opponents to pieces in a far more effective way – he finished them off and got them down on a mental level. That asked for proper cunning and instinct, something that made him the ultimate Slytherin.

Dear Merlin and Morgana, she had fucked up big time. And the fact that he’d lowered himself to play dirty with her only proved her right.

“Draco, I’m so sor—”

“I don’t care. Leave. I’m done with you.” He didn’t even bother to look at her.

Kea winced, his words cutting straight through her like the Killing Curse. But she refused to cry. Her lips trembled, but she would not cry. No, she wouldn’t, could not give him the satisfaction. So she squeezed her eyes shut, but that alone couldn’t keep the tears from falling any longer. Soundlessly, they escaped her eyes, staining her face in seconds. Hastily, she got dressed, fixing her shirt with a repairing charm. She lifted the locking charm with a mumble and with one shaky hand on the cold door handle, turned around to look at him one last time.

He heard her hesitate and smiled smugly into the hot flames.

What a pity; already time for the final blow.

Draco turned his head to look at her, eyes sparkling bright with satisfaction as he took in the girl’s tears, his features relaxed. “By the way,” he said casually, “just ‘cause you mentioned it before. The new Keeper is Rasha, your ravishing, talented twin sister. The guys say she’s a blast between the sheets, very inventive.”

Kea briefly squeezed her eyes shut at the revelation, tears still falling freely in silence. Rasha had always been the better one of them. She always had the better marks, the cooler friends, the hotter guys, the more beautiful clothes. Kea had been second choice all of her life when put next to Rasha. And now this. Well, at least he hadn’t slept with her.

Without a sound, Kea turned and pressed the handle down. Draco’s mocking, “Have a nice day, honey!” following her out the door.

The Slytherin Prince heard the heavy wood swing shut and his smug grin grew wider. Oh, sweet revenge.

That fool. She wouldn’t try again. Had she really thought he wouldn’t notice? That really was a severe insult to his intelligence. And he definitely didn’t take something like that kindly in any way. He was a Malfoy after all. The best of Slytherin and extremely proud of his intelligence. Couldn’t say it often enough. Merlin damn it, he was the fucking Head Boy! Kea Pandorra had better show him some respect. The only person to match his cunning and intelligence was bloody Granger of all people.

Oh, shit, GRANGER!

He whipped round to check the grandfather clock next to the study desk. Fuck! Five minutes till patrolling!

Draco mumbled a cleaning spell and pulled on the rest of his discarded clothes in a rush, quickly checking his appearance in the silver serpent-framed full-length mirror. Thank Merlin he was extremely good at wandless magic.

He ran long fingers through his tousled pale-blond hair, successfully sleeking it down and sighing in relief. Three minutes to spare. Now he looked his usual, devilishly handsome self again. Except, of course, for his still slightly swollen lips, but he was perfectly fine with that. Made him look thoroughly kissed, which was the truth and it went with his reputation. So, actually, that was normal, too.

But then something caught his eye – a small oval bruise marred the pale skin of his neck. Hell, Kea! That love-crazed witch just had to give him a hickey! Don’t get him wrong, there’s nothing to say against a hickey, just not one from her.

Draco rolled his eyes, grunting his annoyance while casting a quick healing charm on the unwelcome reminder of the foolish beauty. Content once more, he winked at his reflection, which grinned smugly back at him, and strode out the door with the supreme arrogance that was his and his alone.

Only to bump straight into a very annoyed looking Hermione Granger.

Perfect. Well, at least I don’t have to search for her. As if that ever was the case. . . .

The Head Girl glared daggers at him and hissed, “Watch where you’re going, you prat! Now get a move on or we’ll be late!”

Draco grimaced in innocent mock-affront, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ while his eyebrows shot up, nearly vanishing under his hair. What a warm welcome!

“Good evening to you, too, Granger,” he said sarcastically. “Now, tell me, what’s gotten your knickers in a twist?” Draco’s mouth curled into a mocking grin.

“Get your bloody robes and do it fast!” was all he got for a response, the petite brunette practically fuming.

They stood only a few inches apart, Hermione’s arms folded over her chest, her posture tense from focusing all her strength on not lunging at him or otherwise physically harming the Head Boy.

Draco for his part simply raised an eyebrow and Accio’d his robes to save time, his silver gaze never leaving the girl’s honey brown orbs. He pulled the black robes on, sneering down at the slightly shorter Gryffindor.

“So, tell me, you and the Weasel still not making any progress yet?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at him with undisguised anger, her usually gentle eyes flashing dangerously. Not that Draco cared. In fact, he ignored this completely, carrying on instead, looking at her pityingly.

“No action? At all?” He shook his head in mock sadness, his brow furrowed as he ignored the fact that the Head Girl’s face was turning redder with every passing second, her expression becoming grimmer and grimmer.

Draco leaned in close enough for her to breathe in his unique scent and dropped his voice down to a conspiratorial whisper. “Between you and me,” he said, pointing his finger at her, then him and back a few times. “You know, another guy would probably do the trick.”

That’s it! Enough! Who the hell does he think he is? Both Merlin and God?!

“Fuck off, Malfoy! That’s none of your bloody business, you sodding asshole!” She all but yelled the words at him, making him take the smallest of a step back. Raging, she stormed out of the Head Student common room, robes billowing behind her.

Of course she knew she ought not to lose her temper like that, using such rude words, least of all with him. But after that ridiculous stunt Ron had just pulled – again – she had been short of temper anyhow. Add the stupid prat’s taunting and the pressure she was under with all of her duties and the studies for her N.E.W.T.s, she just didn’t have the nerves to handle all of this anymore. She just had to get all the stress out of her system one way or another.

She was sure she would regret her outbursts sooner or later, but she just couldn’t stop herself right now, not with her self-control being all but zero at that moment. She would get a grip on her temper later, but with Malfoy around she couldn’t calm down in an instant. Not a chance.

“Tut-tut. Such language from the Head Girl!” Draco clucked his tongue, shook his head in fake shock and followed Granger out of the portrait hole, his smile soon one of malicious glee as he walked only a few inches behind her.

“If you keep on throwing fits like that, my dear Head Girl, I’m afraid I might have to cast a silencing charm on you. Can’t afford to let you disturb a peaceful night’s sleep and wake the whole castle because of your little problem,” he warned her innocently. His silvery grey eyes glittered with amusement, while the girl’s eyes narrowed even more, her expression hard.

“Oh, so you do know how to cast a silencing charm, dear Head Boy?” Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and whipped round sharply, causing the Slytherin hot on her heels to bump into her for the second time that evening, startled.

“Of course I do.” His face lit up with amusement, one eyebrow shooting up. “Don’t tell me you can’t cast one?” he mocked her, sneering.

She ignored his comment and continued to stare at him, doe brown eyes still narrowed and glinting angrily. “Fine! So the next time you have one of those poor, completely delusional girls over for a quick shag, remember to make use of your spell knowledge because there might be others around who don’t want to hear you. Maybe they actually want to study!”

That said, she swiftly turned around again, marching off with full speed.

Malfoy gazed after her for a moment, startled, then his expression changed, steely grey eyes alive with mirth. He caught up with the Gryffindor in a few long strides, matching her pace.

“Jealous? You know, first of all, you could go to your bedroom to study and cast a charm to silence all the noises from outside. I’m sure you could come up with one. But if it really bothers you so much that some people do have a healthy love life that you can’t think of such a spell, then I might possibly consider casting one on my private rooms. Though I have no clue what incentive I would ever have to do this.

“Although, you do realise this is all only if I can remember in the heat of the moment. One tends to forget about their surroundings, not to mention everything else while caught up in the other person.” He winked at her. “Not that you would know about that, of course.” He grinned mischievously. “You know what? I’m actually feeling sorry for you. If it helps, I could be the generous, cooperative, conscientious, and let’s not forget charming Head Boy that I am, and give the Weasel some hints. Then you could have some action of your own and maybe you’d loosen up a bit. Yes, in fact, I think all you need is a good, thorough shag,” he mused, still walking next to the bushy haired witch with a cat-like grace most students envied him for.

Bloody buggering hell! Will he never shut up?!

“Aren’t guys supposed to be terribly tired and worn out after having sex? So why don’t you just shut up and give us both a break so you can spare my nerves and recover yourself?”

“Bet you read that in a book, didn’t you? But to answer your question, I’d say that depends on how fit that person is.” His tone was all conversational now. “As I am in tremendously well shape, it takes more than a shag to ‘wear me out’.” He grinned. “Wouldn’t you agree? Or do you wanna check first, so you can be sure?”

His fingers went straight to the fastener of his robes.

“Shut it, right now, or I’ll forget my manners and status and hex you into the next bloody millennium, Malfoy! I’m dead serious!” She didn’t even look at him, only picked up her pace. Couldn’t he just for once keep his bloody big mouth shut?! She knew he was just mocking her, provoking her, being his usual, insufferably arrogant, obnoxious pureblood self.

Stop it, ‘Mione, no remarks about bloodlines. That’s low. Really low.

But why, why did he always know just which buttons to push, how to hit home? His whole appearance was mocking her. He had obviously tried to sleek his hair down, but one could tell somebody had thoroughly ruffled it. And then his lips, they were still slightly redder than they would usually be. A blind person could tell he’d been thoroughly kissed. And he was in high spirits; post coital, she could tell. Harry always was particularly high-spirited after some one-on-one time with his girlfriend Ginny and he always looked as traitorous as the Slytherin did at that moment. God damn it, yes, Malfoy was right! She envied him for his obviously busy love life! She was nineteen now and still the ultimate Gryffindor virgin. She was sexually frustrated. Fact. If only things weren’t always so complicated with Ron.

She took a few deep, calming breaths. Malfoy knew nothing. He was just mocking her at random. Wasn’t he?

Something’s definitely off with her. . . .

A good metre behind Hermione, Draco was genuinely pondering the tone of Granger’s last words. Yes, of course they were hissed angrily and with annoyance, but there had been a peculiar and barely noticeable edge to her voice. But what exactly that edge was, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She hadn’t really sounded like her superior, know-it-all self. Come to think of it, she hadn’t sounded like that since the beginning of term. Why could that be? Despair? No. But perhaps something like it. . . .

Well, maybe he’d been right with his out-of-the-blue taunting? Maybe she really had some troubles with her dim-witted excuse for a boyfriend? If that really were the case, then that edge would have probably been real frustration. Sexual frustration? That would be too good to be true! Hell, he’d never let that one go.

He grinned to himself. Wouldn’t put it past Won-Won to fuck the simplest things up. Like bedding the sexually frustrated Gryffindor virgin.