Against You

Author's Note: For the time being, labeled a one-shot as I'm never sure when I'll get back to this. I just felt like writing this and this is my first time writing in this fandom! Actually, this is my first fanfiction where I've leaned so heavily towards the "Adult." Enjoy!
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"Don't, don't, don't say that!"

Her voice rebounded off of the walls and into his ears, each word piercing him. How could he not say it, though? Day after day the spent together distinguished as the Heads of their prestigious school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, arguing, planning, strategizing, arguing again...For all the pain and suffering they had caused each other over the years, this Draco Malfoy was very much smitten with one Hermione Granger. If you asked him why, he wouldn't be able to answer. Rather, he would only get a bit of a smirk in the corner of his lip, one part devious, and equal parts captivated by the thought of her.

Until today, he worked his Slytherin ways, craftily creating Heads' meetings for the most silly of matters. He once called her in on a re-evaluation of their common room, claiming that the furniture reflected neither of their tastes and were not sufficient for intelligent thought. Hermione had given him quite the queer look, but as he transfigured (most grudgingly) one bland pillow into one of a rich crimson lined with pale gold, she quickly jumped on the project, feeling no small amount of victory over the forever unbearable Draco Malfoy.

Draco did these things, day after day, hiding behind the mask of Head Boy of Hogwarts, savoring every minute with her. He had thought to himself that she was just a source of entertainment; his own personal Gryffindor to torment as he pleased. What he hadn't expected was what a wonderful scent she had and how her eyes were absolutely gorgeous when they sparked, whether in excitement or in anger (though towards him, usually the latter). He thought he could keep this charade up, once he realized he had more inappropriate feelings towards Hermione. Draco was never one to expose any weakness after all, or at least, not until tonight.

"Listen, Granger," Draco pleaded, "I just need you to know, to really KNOW, with your infinitely large brain, that I. Like. You."

"Just shut up! This is just, just, some idiotic way of getting to me!" she yelled (More like screeched, Draco thought), aiming a pillow at his head with her wand.

Luckily for Draco, he had fast reflexes. Rather unluckily for Hermione, he had closed the gap between them with said reflexes. Her wrist was in his hand, and his heart was pounding like crazy, and he knew, he just knew in all his Slytherin wisdom, that what he was going to do was the most dangerous thing of all.

He kissed her. Though according to Hermione, it was less of a kiss, and more like a searing, crushing, all-encompassing contact between two beings more meant for each other than any two other beings on planet and--Oh dear, his tongue was soft!--nothing could compare to this moment right here.

Yet, it was still wrong, so she pushed him away, turned her back, and marched straight to her room like the good Gryffindor girl she was, the good girl she was expected to be. It was quite a shame that she hadn't turned, for just a moment, to take a good look at what Draco looked like at that moment. His face flushed with surprise, affection, anger, arousal--everything--but his eyes filled with disappointment and heartache.

Behind that wooden door, Hermione had slumped against it, heart beating, adrenaline rushing and her body tingling from head to toe. This was wrong, wrong, wrong, but her entire body was singing, "Right, right, right!" He was a lowly, arrogant, conniving spawn of evil, destined to create pain. That's what he was and that's what he always would be. Nevermind that he had been considerate it taking patrols, settling Prefect disputes and practically giving her the common room whenever she needed it. Nevermind that his eyes seemed lighter, more carefree than she had ever seen them.

"Malfoy always lies," Hermione whispered to herself, willing herself to believe it as strongly as she did before, but her body could not do it.

Even as she fought against it, she found her hands squeezing the soft flesh of her thighs, her traitorous brain wishing it was his skin instead that she was touching. An image flashed before her for a moment, of what he would have done: of what, somewhere, deep inside her, she wanted him to do.

"Listen, Granger," Draco pleaded, "I just need you to know, to really KNOW, with your infinitely large brain, that I. Like. You."

Quick as the snake he was, he lunged towards her, his arms wound tightly around her waist and his lips crushed against her's. The kiss was rough. Chaotic. Reluctant. Prying. Exciting. There weren't enough words in the world to describe the way Hermione Granger was being kissed right now, only that she knew that it was lighting a fire within her soul.

Wet softness pressed now against her lips.

Oh sweet Merlin, she thought as his tongue probed for entry. Honestly, she could not have denied him even if she wanted to; her body had already melted into his. They were no longer two separate people. Rather, they were all arms and legs and minds of one unit. Her arms tangled into his pale hair while Draco's arms slipped under her garments to grasp at the heated flesh underneath them.

His hands on her breasts, on her bum; they were roving everywhere aching to feel each inch.

"Too much clothing," Malfoy growled, clumsily ripping buttons from her blouse and very well destroying the zipper in her skirt.

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at his fumbling. It was so enthralling to be able to work him into such a frenzy that he forgot his very identity, and with a whispered spell, she Vanished all of their clothing. Their breaths caught at the sight of each other in their purest state of being. Reverence befell them as they realized that each was not what they expected and as their eyes met, another spark.

It was she who lunged towards him, this time, nearly toppling him over with her naked body. She should have been shy, embarrassed, ashamed, but all that coursed through her veins was arousal and something more. He had always created a violent reaction in her, and this was no different: only its form was different from the scathing remarks and withering glares sent his way. In its stead were open-mouthed kisses and gyrating hips.

Somehow they made it to a bed (who's, they couldn't be sure), where they rolled and toppled over one another, skin to skin, pure magic in the contact.

He was on top of her now, pinning her wrists down at her sides as he paused for a breath. Draco stared into her hazel eyes and smirked his same smirk before diving down for her breasts. She squirmed and bucked as his wet mouth made contact, but he held her down, firmly suckling first the right, then the left. Hermione couldn't help the gasps that escaped from her mouth, the whimpers as he teased a nipple and the moan as he finally entered her.

With legs wrapped around him tightly, Hermione moaned, "M-malfoy..."

With this, Draco paused to look at her flushed face. He pulled back slowly, very nearly leaving her completely, whispering, "Draco. Call me Draco."

He slammed his length back into her, wrenching a scream out of her as he continued his frenetic, pleasurable pace. He wanted to hear her say his name, his name, HIS name, dammit, and he wouldn't stop until Hermione screamed it.

Hermione could feel the coil tightening inside of her as he rocked astride her hips, her legs resting upon his shoulders. He was in so deep, and he was filling her up so well, and ohmygod-it's-so-close-now...!

A muffled cry from the Head Girl's quarters roused Draco from his disappointed daze. That couldn't have possibly been Granger, could it? Because, if it was, he could have sworn he heard his own name.